Uighara took him through a door and into a back room behind the choir, just as the hymn came to a close. An acolyte was peeping through some curtains, a lookout for two others who were taking swigs from a carafe of wine as red as their robes. They lost all colour in their cheeks when confronted by Uighara. The boy with the carafe returned it to the table and dropped to his knees. The other two followed his lead.
“Forgive us! Don’t tell Brother Brennan.”
Uighara snorted. “I need not forgive anything here, seek it from the Lord, or Brother Brennan if you prefer. I need one of you to take this message to the Lord’s High Admiral.”
The boys were shocked; none made a move to take the message. Each waited for the other to do something. Pelegrin remembered being caught in a similar situation. He also remembered the thrashing Brennan gave him.
“You there,” Pelegrin selected the lookout, he’d less likely smell like wine. “Come on then, take it, quick and quiet. You know what he looks like?”
The boy nodded, he took the note from Uighara and left through the drapery. The Lord’s High Admiral had never missed the evening service in his life. Pelegrin knew he would be seated in the front row with perfect posture, his fresh pressed blue uniform, adorned with medals of iron and bronze, his rigid attention on the sermon.
Uighara guided Pelegrin out of the choir’s recess past several guards into the High Priest’s receiving room where they found Brother Brennan tasting the wine from a small table of refreshments.
He swallowed the wine with an awkward smile. “Brother Uighara! Does the High Priest know you have returned? I have not had notice on his appointment list.”
“Be at ease Brother, no notice was given.”
“Would you like to make an appointment then, I’ll get the book and see if he can fit you in. He is so very busy, as you know.”
Brennan removed himself from the room. Pelegrin chuckled as he made himself comfortable on a red velvet seat by the wall. He picked several grapes from a fruit bowl and enjoyed the juicy crunch, cleansing the aftertaste of bile from his palate. Uighara did not sit. He was motionless save his whispering lips, his hands held together, praying for an appointment or praying Brother Brennan didn’t return. Perhaps, praying that the Lord’s High Admiral would rally the armada to end the rebels once and for all.
Pelegrin waited and Uighara prayed. The seats grew uncomfortable; too soft for Pelegrin’s liking. He was used to life at sea with the constant movement of wind and wave shifting the deck under his feet. He paced, listening to another hymn finish and the even tones of the High Priest leading a prayer.
“Is this the same night, or have I slept a day, or four? When did we leave Rum Hill?”
“This very night,” said Uighara, his hands still clasped in prayer, eyes unmoved from the door.
“But, how?”
“A miracle of the Lord’s power. Let that be enough.”
Pelegrin found himself staring at the door as well, wondering about the events of the day. The impossible distance travelled in a moment. No steed could match that pace. It was faster than a ship with an air savant feeding the sails, faster even than a dragon.
“We must find a way to use this power! Can you imagine what we could do?”
“Indeed, I can.”
The pipe organ played a joyous tune, leading the congregation and choir in the final hymn for the service, The Chosen’s Return.
There was movement in the other room and a heated voice rose in a berating tone. The voice continued in a rant with no opposition for several minutes then went quiet and a moment later the door opened. Brother Brennan entered first his head lowered and face red.
“The Lord’s most Holy, High Priest of Jando.”
Pelegrin and Uighara dropped to their knees and bowed.
“Rise Brother Uighara, Commodore Pelegrin, take my blessing.”
Uighara kissed the High Priest’s proffered hand, then rose to his feet. Pelegrin also kissed the outstretched hand, but could not rise, his legs overcome by weakness. He had never received an audience with the High Priest and never expected to find the old man so daunting. His sacramental vestments radiated power like it was the Lord himself standing before them. The silken robes of white were woven with a thousand black stars and each one stared at him, judging his soul. A black stole scarfed his neck, hanging on either side of a thick iron chain, the last link on each end bent open. This was the chain of Saint Jan, the very one that the Lord broke to set him free.
“Rise child.”
Touched by awe and nervousness in equal measure, the Commodore snapped his gapping mouth shut. He tested his legs and found them strong again, rising with aplomb to stand before the holiest of the chosen.
“Is this your proof, Brother Uighara?”
“He will affirm my testimony, Your Grace.”
“Brother Brennan, invite the Lord’s High Admiral in, would you.”
“Your Grace,” Brennan bowed his head. “Shall I bring more refreshments?”
The High Priest furrowed his brow and shooed him away, “Did I ask for that? Stop trying to think for me. Go!”
Brennan hurried away and the High Priest huffed, raising a hand to the heavens in a plea for help. He took a bunch of the plump red grapes in hand and sat on the elegant bone seat at the back of the room. It was a humble model of the grand Lord’s Throne, which resided in the temple proper. This one was raised on a small dais, just enough to set it above the other seats in the room, lending the High Priest the authority of any conversation. The legs were stout femurs and the arms were indeed arms. A humerus, radius and ulna ending neatly with a full hand of varnished white fingers.
The High Priest inspected each grape before eating. “Nice to have you here in the flesh again, Uighara. This project has been diverting you from your obligations to the Temple.”
“Respectfully, Your Grace, my work will serve the Lord’s interests far more than sipping wine and listening to the Council’s trivial debates.”
“Bah! You left me with Brennan. Brennan! That fool doesn’t know his carpals from his tarsals.”
“Is there something from the Council meeting I missed that you wish to discuss before the Lord’s High Admiral arrives?”
“Don’t get glib with me. You know very well the agenda was devoid of interest. Why else would you leave me?”
Uighara refrained from reply.
“You there,” the High Priest thrust a skinny finger. “Firstborn Pelegrin, eh?”
“No, Your Grace, my elder died in—”
“Tragedy, yes it was. I remember, he thought he had the little ones cornered too, eh. As sure as sin, he was.”
Brennan burst through the door, saving Pelegrin from a response.
“The Lord’s High Admiral,” he announced.
“Well, of course it is! Now, shut the door as you go.”
“Are you sure you don’t need any refresh—”
“GO!”
A flash of energy burst from the High Priest’s hand, encircling Brother Brennan and ejecting him from the room. The door slammed shut.
Pelegrin’s father wore a face of cool reserve and dutifully dropped to his knee before the High Priest. “Your Grace, I thank you for this audience. I hope the Commodore has not imposed.”
“Rise, let’s not pretend you have anything presently to thank me for.”
The Lord’s High Admiral abstained from greeting Uighara and stood before his son. The Commodore saluted the chief military commander, who returned the salute with crisp authority.
“I have reports that you lost the fleet in your command, can you account for this?”
Pelegrin swallowed, sunk by a wave of pride to see his father and torn by a tempest of guilt for the loss of his men.
“Juniper was docked at Rum Hill on resupply. We were ambushed in dock by rebel forces. They lured Templestone and Fearless to dock and seized our ships with heavy losses to Jandan forces. Five pirate vessels intercepted Deliverance and Lord’s Flame, as
sisted by rebels on our hijacked vessels.”
“Kobb?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Jaspa?”
“No, sir, this was Delik; the son we thought had fled. Kobb has Jaspa at his hideout on the Hoard Islands.”
“You know this, how?”
“Kobb was gloating, sir, he gave away that he and the rebel command were plotting together.”
“I presume they let you two go to pass on this information.”
“Yes, sir.”
The Lord’s High Admiral withdrew a message from his inside breast pocket. “And this?” He waved it around. “Do you corroborate this?”
“Sir, I have not read it.”
“Then you had better do so and explain yourself.”
Pelegrin read Uighara’s detailed message. It outlined the same information he gave his father with the addition of the miraculous transport home to Jando. Further, it included a recommendation to approve the use of specially armed and warded barges to capture a dragon to sacrifice.
“Sir, I don’t know about the capture of any dragon.”
“No, you don’t. What of the ... How does he call it? ‘Blessed transportation’. What say you?”
“It is true, sir. Though I don’t understand it. In one moment we were in Rum Hill, the next here in the Lord’s High Temple. Uighara is very ... adept with the gift. He—”
“The Lord himself will be the judge of Uighara. So, you say it works for us then, the chosen?”
“I stand before you as proof, though I do not know how it is possible.”
The Lord’s High Admiral considered them in silence.
The High Priest leant forward. “Share your mind. Does this satisfy your earlier reservations?”
“Somewhat, Your Grace.”
Uighara clutched his hands in fists “What could possibly remain an impediment to you understanding? Everything is for the benefit of the Lord’s work in this land. We have a chance to crush the rebellion that gnaws at our heels, destroy the pirates that harry us at sea, and smoke out the nest of evil dragons. Do you not see? The grand new dawn of the Lord is upon us!”
“I see risk, I see a trap, and I see your grasping insidious schemes coming to naught but grief.”
“Father, this is our chance to end it. We outnumber them. What trap could hold the armada?”
“What trap could ambush five of our finest ships? Your command outnumbered the rebels at Rum Hill. Yet you and this scheming Calimskan outcast stand as the only survivors.”
“Many more survive, they—”
The Lord’s High Admiral barked his son down. “Enough!”
“Yes, sir.”
The High Priest finished the last of his grapes and rose from his chair. “Tell me, Admiral, do we have the superior force for the engagement?”
“Yes, of course, Your Grace.”
“Would the death or capture of the rebel leaders, rid us of their insurgency?”
“It would mark their decline, Your Grace.”
“Would Jando benefit without dragon’s harassing the coast every year?”
“Yes, but how can you trust him? How do we know he isn’t in cahoots with the Golden Shield of Calimska?”
“I trust no man, I trust their deeds. Brother Uighara’s work with the infidels has borne us black powder and cannon, silk and steel. He has delivered your own son to safety. What has your tenure as Lord’s High Admiral built for our nation, eh? The rebellion has grown stronger. Merchant ships avoid our ports for fear of piracy. What of that, eh?”
The Lord’s High Admiral was not to be defeated, even as his arguments crumbled around him. “Your Grace, every trade we make favours Calimska. We suckle at their teat till seasons come, then they leave us to the dragons, hiding behind their sorcerous corruptions.”
Uighara sneered. “And that truth will remain as long as the dragons do. They stole the Lord’s treasures and divided it among themselves. He won’t rule this orb from a throne of bones. His chosen will gather unto him all Oranica’s treasure, and they will build him a seat of gold, silver and platinum, studded with precious gems, enough to envy the stars. And he will rule again.”
“This is preposterous! I will not be sermonised by you!”
“Father, please listen.”
The Lord’s High Admiral turned on his son. “You listen! And fall in line, Commodore. You’d choose the ravings of an exiled shiner over your commanding officer? Uighara has no military experience and this entire strategy is flawed.”
The High Priest rapped his knuckles on the bony arm of his chair. “Then you must improve the strategy.”
“Your Grace, I cannot advi—”
The High Priest cut off the Lord’s High Admiral. “I have heard enough. You called for more proof and rightly so. Such has been provided. I will summon the Council and make my proclamation. You can abide by my authority or resign your post. What is your choice?”
“I abide your authority, of course. Your Grace, I wish to install Commodore Pelegrin to Admiral of the fleet, and recommend we reserve a fifth of the armada as a contingency.”
“Agreed. Now then; let us rally the faithful.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Sanctuary
The delicate blush of dawn kissed the rolling sea. Elrin stretched his back, thinking of his bed in Calimska, hoping the next night’s sleep would involve something other than a barrel. Minni rested against a crate beside him and Amber lay on the deck, her head cradled in Minni’s lap. Minni had a protective arm draped over the girl while Hurn lay across the deck, a barricade of muscle fencing them off to sleep in safety.
They had talked into the night, sharing stories and telling jokes, forgetting the blood and battle of the day past. Delik and Tikis had spent the night in Kobb’s quarters, Minni wouldn’t say why. Elrin guessed they were smoothing out their differences for what was to come. They could have their secrets as long as they let him find the Dragon Choir. With Amber safe, they had the key. Even if the prophecy was a cartload of rot, having Amber on their side had to be a good thing.
With dawn came the change of shift. Crew from below decks emerged to trade their hammock for a day of sweat. They were in high spirits, whistling and singing bawdy tunes as they took to work. Elrin navigated past the arms and legs of his new friends, careful not to tread on anyone. Minni woke, alerted by the movement. She relaxed, seeing it was just him and raised her arms up in a deep stretch, arching her back and yawning.
Bone Dancer led the column of ships, Juniper behind her, sleek and powerful. The three larger Jandan galleons trailed behind with the rest of Kobb’s ships holding the rear of the line. Flashes beamed back and forth along the convoy as Kobb’s captains practised with the solargraphs, most likely exchanging crude jokes rather than important strategic information.
Elrin took a trip down to the mess and returned with pickled eggs and salted fish, rousing Hurn and Amber from their slumber to eat. Over the simple breakfast they watched the convoy wind through a warren of turquoise channels like a great serpent of sails. They past islands with luxurious golden beaches encircling patches of rich green forest, some long and narrow, others no more than the size of a single ship. The islands grew in size and the water calmed, shielded from the swell of the open ocean.
“Quick!” Elrin waved them over to the side of Bone Dancer.
Minni went to find out what the fuss was for. “What’s wrong?”
Elrin pointed down through the water. “Look!”
The reef on one side of the ship was shimmering under a blanket of coins. Treasure littered the shoreline and smothered the beaches in gold from distant lands. How many ancient kings with empty vaults would have mourned for this fortune, snatched up by greedy dragons through the ages?
They were actually here. They’d come to the Hoard Islands.
Elrin ran to the other side of the ship, eyes wide with amazement. Minni followed, waving over Amber and Hurn to see. Great mounds piled across another island, its mantle of riches so thic
k, trees had no room to grow. It was barren save the precious treasures.
Erin shook his head in disbelief. “There is so much here. How would a dragon possibly miss any of it?”
Minni gave him a nudge. “It looks nice to a Calimskan maybe, but there is a good reason we rid ourselves of precious metals for the Surrender Moon. That’s the last moon before the dragons descend to collect. Here on the coast it’s gold to the grave.”
“Even a little bit?”
“Sure, take a piece and see if you make it through the season.”
“Why would a mighty dragon bother me for one little gold coin?”
“A mighty dragon wouldn’t, it’s the young ones that sniff out the small stuff.”
“I could defend myself from a small dragon, couldn’t I?”
Delik walked up beside them with a chuckle. “You might survive one, but what about the next, and the next? What about a pack of the bastards, each with an aching to please their sweetheart? What then?”
“I would bury it.”
“Sure beats holding it in your pocket,” said Minni.
Delik shook his head. “It’d be gone by seasons end. Fools still try though.”
“So how does Kobb get away with keeping all his silverware?”
“That’s not his,” said Minni.
Delik chuckled. “Prisella rules the roost, Kobb just polishes her collection.”
“Then I’d take it to Calimska, before the season began. I’d be rich and safe there.”
“Not with that dead letter you wouldn’t,” said Minni. “Your escort on the other hand. They’d do just fine after your delivery.”
“Maybe so,” said Delik, scratching his stubble. “But even without his bounty he’d have Stoneheart’s toll.”
“And the carry laws,” added Minni.
“Alright, alright, I yield.” Elrin dipped his head to Minni and Delik in mock defeat. “The rebellion’s finest have obviously considered doing the same.”
Delik gripped Elrin’s shoulder, enjoying the banter. “Considered and applied without success. Minni can tell you the story.”
Dragon Choir Page 19
