The Last Dragon [Book One]

by LeRoy Clary

  If I ever located and fell in love with the right woman of my station, Elizabeth would be my biggest supporter. If she discovered me in a tryst with a royal, she might have me whipped or exiled. Not because she would want to, but because it was her duty. There are rules to flaunt and others to live by.

  “Damon!” Tam called again as she rushed up to me and took both of my hands in hers.

  There was no way to extract them without offending her, so I half-turned, made sure we were alone and pulled my right hand free. With it, I pointed to a stone bench. Using a tone that hopefully relayed my pleasure at the encounter and that there were always a few moments to sit with her and talk.

  Her smile grew more intense if that was possible. She turned to stroll over to the bench with me, and as she did, my other hand slipped from hers. As any good servant would do, I rushed ahead and wiped the bench free of leaves for her royal bottom to sit upon. She appreciated the attention.

  A pair of young royal males emerged from the depths of the garden. They had been out of my sight, hidden by a spreading red rose growing shoulder high. Above that, a weeping willow drooped, concealing them from sight, for whatever nefarious deeds they were up to. It didn’t take the intelligence of any sort to read their guilty expressions. They fled the garden as if the fountain belched fire at them.

  While standing innocently beside the stone bench, Tam sat primly and patted the seat beside her. The boys wouldn’t cause us any problems because they were too anxious to get out of our sight. As for me, I knew both their names, their parents, and their royal positions, and knew to avoid sitting beside Tam. Who else might enter to enjoy the fountain and find us?

  “What are you doing here?” Tam asked with a giggle.

  “Elizabeth needs me to deliver a message to her cousin, Carol. It’s not critical, and there is a little time to spend with you before I have to leave.”

  “Wonderful. It has been so long since we’ve talked. What, with everyone departing the palace, there is nobody to talk with. Not to be close to, like you.”

  I keyed in on the part about everyone leaving the palace. “Where are they going?”

  “It’s a secret,” she whispered with a conspiratorial smile.

  Good. Her actions indicated she would share the secret with me, but bad because then I’d be in her debt. That wouldn’t do at all. However, knowing her, her immediate family, and her friends, provided other names to seek out, if needed. Reducing the circle of people who might tell her something in confidence eliminated to a few, and from those few, we could find who is absent from the palace and why. She might also mention a dragon which would draw my full attention.

  The idea of a dragon seemed key to what we searched for. Not the dragon itself, but the location, one which I did not wish to visit.

  “Nobody who truly likes you would ever ask you to break a confidence,” I said, egging her on.

  Her eyes twinkled. “If you really want to know.”

  The truth was, I didn’t. Obligations to share secrets are always to be avoided unless they are obligations owed to me. “Listen, if I don’t hurry and find Carol, Elizabeth will be upset. That’s how it is with us servants. It was good to talk to you again.”

  She smiled, but her eyes told a different story. She wanted me to stay. Turning to wave after hurrying away brought another smile to her, and the notice of a woman watching from a second-floor window. She was the dour wife of a fur trader. The woman spoke only to upset others with her tales and lies. Before I entered the building, she would be spreading her tales of Tam and me meeting in a secret tryst.

  My feet carried me to the door of the apartment on the second floor with the window that overlooked the fountain, one of the better suites of rooms for those who are not royal. An alcove across from the door provided a convenient place to sit and wait.

  It didn’t take long. The nasty woman pulled her door open and emerged like a snail from a shell, oozing, and slimy. She eased the door closed before she noticed me.

  “Hello,” I said pleasantly.

  “I saw you two,” she said, pointing in the direction of where the fountain was located. It was an accusation, plain and simple.

  I smiled but refused to object or deny.

  “I saw you meeting that royal girl who’s so fond of you. Tam is her name. You did it when there were no others around like it was planned.” She could have been pleasant but chose a different path to follow. “So, don’t tell me what these eyes saw and what they didn’t.”

  That was like poking a sharp stick at me and sure to hurt Tam. My eyes fell on the note to Carol clutched in my hand. A little magic had shifted the ink around using a minimal amount of effort, reforming the letters until I was satisfied. Then my eyes raised to meet hers again, ignoring the defiant stance. “I am here to speak with your husband, not you, and before you ask, not about what you saw or didn’t see.”

  “Why do you want him?” She moved as if to block the doorway.

  “Princess Elizabeth wishes me to speak to him about his royal concession for trading furs in the kingdom. Is he here?” I raised the scroll and indicated my desire to enter.

  “Why would she want you to talk with him?”

  “Elizabeth’s duties about the palace are ever-expanding, and she has me gathering information on several royal concessions, and who we will choose to operate them in the coming years. Of course, she is far too busy to do the groundwork, so that lowly task is assigned to me and she will certainly follow my recommendations. Now, I really must speak to your husband.” My voice and general tone hadn’t taken on an angry edge, at least not yet. Telling this woman not to spread tales wouldn’t work. She needed a reason. Losing a comfortable living would qualify.

  The woman’s jaw rested on her ample chest in shock and fear. She threw the door open and attempted to smile as she waved me inside. A large man sat on a stool, three stacks of furs before him. He was examining one under the bright light streaming in through the window, and when satisfied, placed it on the stack to his left. He was probably sorting them according to quality.

  The woman barked, “Princess Elizabeth sent him here to see you. Get up and treat him well.”

  The tall man shivered at her tone and stood until the top of his head nearly touched the beams of the ceiling. He reached his paw of a hand to envelop mine as he jovially said, “Big Henry, most call me. Can’t think of a single good reason why.” He chuckled at a joke he’d probably repeated a thousand times. “What can an old fur trader like myself do for you, son?”

  The woman raced to the serving table and poured two glasses of red wine, my least favorite. “Call me Damon. I have come to discuss the royal concession for furs, as instructed by Princess Elizabeth.”

  “Tell me more,” he said, pointing to an empty chair for me. “Is there a problem?”

  I glanced at the woman who had now spilled the wine while pouring and attempted to wipe it up. Her hands were shaking. However, it was not fair to threaten Big Henry for his wife’s onerous actions. I handed him the scroll with the new phrases my magic had placed on it and allowed him a moment to read the few words. Nothing there was a lie, just careful phrasing that indicated Elizabeth wished me to safeguard all was well and proper with a variety of royal suppliers. If ever asked about it by the king or one of his ministers, she would readily admit she had followed up on a few unfounded rumors—all for the benefit of the kingdom and well within her province.

  Big Henry said, “My prices are fair, my furs top-quality. There has never been a problem.”

  “Elizabeth is concerned with the appearance of propriety. Those selling with the royal commission must be above reproach in product and quality, and they also must maintain the highest moral standards. She will not permit any hint of scandal or rumormongering.” Was there the flick of his eyes to meet those of his wife?

  He turned back to me. “Have you any reason to suspect that may be the case?”

  “No.” I carefully refused to make eye contact with the
wife as she placed the wine beside me. Instead, I continued, “Please understand, this is not only investigating your commission but others as well. If there is found a reason for concern, you will personally and in confidence share my finding with Princess Elizabeth.”

  He fingered a lynx fur that would cost a year’s salary for most people. He hefted it and stroked the softness. My heart pounded. If he offered it to me in any manner, I’d head directly for Elizabeth, and we would begin such an investigation as described.

  Instead, he held it out and said, “Feel this one, Damon. Tell me what you think.”

  I touched it briefly and warily, fearful of what was to come. The fur was as soft as any I’d ever encountered. Then he placed it aside as I waited for the ax to fall. The bribe.

  “Damn shame,” he muttered. “A valuable animal. Yet, this pelt was cured to deceive. It was probably taken from an animal found dead. Acid was used on the inside of the skin to make it feel softer and pliable, but it won’t hold up and is no more than a fake. The coloring was dyed and will fade. Worse, after the single season, the fur will have all fallen out by the handful.” He callously tossed it to the pile on his right.

  I breathed again. He was not bribing me but teaching a lesson for his trade. A quality fur should last a lifetime, not a single season. Representing that flawed fur in a sale to the royalty in the palace might cost him the right to do business there. The loss of the commission would mean his furs would sell for half of their present worth.

  “If you had sold that one?” my voice sounded strained, as well it should.

  “Never happen. But, to answer your question, if it somehow had been sold, my commission would be obligated to make it right. Another fur, or a refund, the customer’s choice. It’s bad business to steal small copper coins when there are gold ones to be earned.”

  I enjoyed Big Henry. More than that, I liked him—and his honesty. Standing, intentionally without tasting the wine his wife poured for me, we shook hands. On another day I might have stood in the doorway and listened, for I believed the man would be having stern words with his wife. My pride didn’t need to hear them because she would never embarrass Tam with her foul rumors.

  I could have headed back to tell Elizabeth of the absence of people. However, being so close to the royal wing where those closest to the king resided, I decided to venture there and observe. There might be more to learn. Perhaps something that would prevent the trip to Mercia.

  No sooner had the door shut to the fur trader’s rooms than the door to another suite opened, as if by accident. I didn’t believe that for a second. A tall, thin young man shuffled out, his nose in a book. It was Twin, the newest of the palace mages, and the last person I wished to encounter. I’d avoided him since his arrival in the palace almost a year ago. If his magic powers discovered mine, all the levels of hell would burn.

  I angled to the left side of the hallway and continued walking, allowing him to read his book without interruption or making eye contact. Speeding up would draw his attention, so my pace remained the same sedate stride, and I kept my head down.

  “Damon, isn’t it?”

  My ears burned. Not only had he noticed me, but he knew my name. “Y-yes, Damon.”

  “Have you a moment to spare?”

  CHAPTER SIX

  T win, the newest and youngest mage in the palace, knew my name, and his use of it tied my tongue in a manner that didn’t happen often. He scared me. I pulled to a stop and peered up at him while trying to remain calm in my outward appearance. Twin topped me by a head. His features were sharp and thin, his skin pale. The fingers holding a book were long and delicate. My fear of him discovering my small-magic prevented me from remembering how to properly address a royal mage. “I am in a hurry to complete an important task for Lady Elizabeth, but of course if you only need a moment.”

  He reached out and gently took my hand in his to shake. The long finger wrapped all around my hand, as a parent grasping the hand of a child. He said in a friendly enough voice, “I have long hoped to spend some time with you. There are good things people say about you and would appreciate your input on a variety of subjects.”

  The idea that a royal mage, even if he was the fourth in palace seniority, wanted my input on anything, released my tongue. With a spur of conversational inspiration certain to impress him, I said while raising my eyebrows in surprise, “Really?”

  “Yes, really,” He smiled warmly, finally letting go of my hand. “You’re in a hurry, but do you have a time that we might meet and discuss a few items of mutual interest?”

  All very proper and innocent, or so it seemed. However, no matter how much friendliness he projected, he was a mage and therefore, not to be trusted. I said as if lathering soft butter on warm bread, “If you give me a hint of the subjects, I can come to our meeting prepared.”

  His eyes swept the hallway in both directions making sure nobody else was within hearing. Then he moved closer, and his voice grew softer as he leaned to whisper in my ear. “What do you know about dragons, Damon?”

  The book he held in his hand tilted forward as he bent at his waist, perhaps an accident, but I didn’t think so. There was an illustration on the page. It was a sketch of a dragon. “They do not exist. At least, not anymore.”

  “Wyverns?”

  I said, demonstrating my new knowledge of the subject, “Those are not true dragons. If you wish to know about them, you might ask Princess Anna, who is from Mercia and has first-hand knowledge. What little I know pales in comparison.”

  “How would one go about contacting this princess?”

  “Oh, she is visiting here in the palace, staying in the east wing, I believe. She will be here for a few more days, but I’m not certain about that, and you might wish to hurry to speak to her before she departs.”

  Twin placed his right hand on my shoulder and gave me a little squeeze as if I was a puppy who had peed outside the house for the first time and he was rewarding it with his gesture. He said, “We will meet soon and discuss things again.”

  “Soon,” I lied. He would never corner me again in such a dangerous manner. My shoulder quivered where he’d touched me, and with my small magic, I understood it was more than a simple touch. The surge of magic I felt from his hand almost made me faint in reaction. Since it was not intended for me to feel, I couldn’t and didn’t react, or he would wonder, but that made it no less real.

  Twin had transferred intense feelings to me with that gentle touch. After it, a person was supposed to like him, to trust him. The problem was that the mage might not even know or understand what he’d attempted. Or, he might. He may have learned as a child that people responded positively when he touched them in such a certain way while allowing his thoughts to run free.

  Which brought up another idea. If he didn’t like a person, would his touch increase that dislike? For the ten-thousandth time, I cursed the restricted ownership of books about magic that might reveal such information. The mages and sorceresses kept a firm hand on them, and nearly all were guarded with spells to prevent others from reading them. My small magic might enable me to read them without issue, but I didn’t know for sure and being caught would tell them I was more than I wished for them to know.

  My feet fled down the hallways, ignoring people who turned my way. My eyes centered on the floor, and my legs churned. They slowed when reaching more familiar grounds nearer my home because arousing speculation by my haste would be criticized. Elizabeth would have to hear everything—and she would have questions, comments, additions, and conclusions to be drawn. The evening would be hard for me and was sure to end with a head-pounding headache.

  Hardly had I begun to explain when Elizabeth railed, “Twin? You allowed him to speak to you alone?”

  “It wasn’t my fault. Besides, listen to what he said. He asked me to meet with him and discuss what is known of dragons.”

  Her lip curled in distaste.

  “My suggestion for him was that dragons do not exist, and
he might wish to speak with Princess Anna about wyverns if he is interested. The book in his hand was open to a page with a dragon illustration.” I took a well-deserved breath and waited.

  Kendra’s normal sweet smile had vanished and been replaced by a tight-lipped snarl. She perched on the corner of a table near Elizabeth, ready to leap to her service, and she clearly didn’t like what I had to say, either. Her dark eyes smoldered, and her olive skin flushed. Our similarities continued to astonish me.

  Both of us had the same dark brown hair and eyes, our skin was darker than most, and our features were long and thin, in a way that we believed were noble in appearance. The little I remember of our parents was the same, both were dark and handsome.

  Elizabeth had taken us in when we were about ten, as close as we can determine. We were living on the streets, stealing what we needed and fighting for scraps. Yet, we could both read, and our math included mastery of basic algebra and some geometry. What we didn’t have were parents or many memories of them.

  Both of us had vague images in mind of our pasts and our parents but believed they had been absent from our lives for a couple of years when we found Princess Elizabeth—or she found us. The remembrances had been quickly fading with the demands of survival of everyday life without a family. Neither of us had specific information about what had happened, other than the impression of violence.

  Believing us extraordinary from the beginning, Elizabeth had gone to her father when she was thirteen and asked for a reward to be posted for information about my sister and myself. She convinced him that we may be the children of wealthy traders or even royals of another kingdom, and they would be indebted for our return. After several interviews he had with us, he also was convinced there was more to us than could be explained.

  He quietly posted rewards in foreign lands for information about a pair of missing children. He hired discrete investigators and had one of his best manservants control the flow of information. Wythe was appointed to follow up on any leads without alerting anyone in the palace. If word of us spread locally, some might take the opportunity to use that knowledge to lie and increase their own means. The man who gathered the information, Wythe, was an elderly man of considerable learning and a respected scholar. Until he died a year later, he prowled the seaports near Mercia seeking information from common seamen and captains alike, as he too was convinced we were from afar and that is the only port in the kingdom of Dire. His documents and conjectures disappeared with his death, although there was no reason to believe them missing and his death had any connection. Nor, did it directly involve us at our young ages.