After a satisfied nod, Cheddar glanced down at the two young dragons. “Alright, you two. I need to get back to work.”
Xoc whined and looked at him.
“I know, handsome, but it can’t hit us in here.” Cheddar pointed. “Go sit with Zolin. He’ll protect you both while I do this, okay?”
Come. Zolin, sitting on his belly to the side, spread his forepaws in a welcoming gesture. We will be safe over here.
After quiet chirps, Xoc and Citlali padded quickly over. They sat within Zolin’s forelegs and he curved them around the two.
You will make a fine father.
Mayhap. Zolin’s tone was slightly dismissive, but the feeling that came through the link as he looked down at the two little anxious ones was warm and loving.
Jessip kept the smile from his lips and turned back to the sign and the letter being painted.
Cheddar’s steadiness of hand was incredible. His strokes were confident and ruler-straight, and even the amount of paint on the brush was always perfect. Before any stroke could streak from lack of it, Cheddar would dip the brush into a paint can. His years of practice at calligraphy was serving him well on this project. Before Jessip even realized, ‘Dragon’ was complete.
Cheddar examined the paint on the other end. Only two letters must have been dry, because that’s all he rolled up. He unrolled more canvas from the bolt, then returned and started on the next word.
“What are you going to do after your guild training is complete?”
Jessip blinked. “Complete?”
“Yeah. When people get to whatever craft rank they want, they usually head off to get some kind of employment with their skills.”
Jessip drew his brows together. “I never actually thought about it. I was so happy to have bonded a dragon that I didn’t even think beyond that.”
Cheddar nodded. “It is something of a life-changing thing, isn’t it?”
“Yes it is. Before . . . well, before certain things, I wanted to be a guard in the Caer. That wasn’t really a dream position or anything though.”
“Actually, an argument could be made that we are guards of sorts.”
Thinking on that, Jessip watched Cheddar apply more paint to the heavy cloth with deft strokes.
Dragonlinked could be thought of as guarding people against various things, he supposed, nahual not the least of them. So, in a sense, his desire had come to pass. And in a way much more satisfying than he ever imagined possible. He glanced at Zolin, forelegs around Xoc and Citlali, and his lips curved in a little smile.
“I guess that’s one way to tell the weather to piss off.” Terry, hands on his hips, stood just outside Sharrah and Cheddar’s bedroom, admiring the barriers.
The rain had picked up considerably. There was now a pool nearly a foot deep at the bottom of the barrier, even though water jetted out of the six inch opening toward the drain.
Cheddar chuckled. “Can’t let a little thing like rain keep me from my work, now can we?”
“Speaking of which,” Terry approached the long swath of canvas, “I came to see where you were on that. How goes it?”
“Fairly well, actually. Based on the maximum height I could paint a letter on this, I tested how wide each could be made without appearing too distorted. Then taking the available length of the bolt into consideration and the width of the letters to be used, I determined the spacing between the letters and words to make the sign wide enough so there was room for the dragons to be able to hold up the sign, hover, and be far enough apart to not hit each other’s wings as they did so.”
“Oh.” Terry raised his brows and nodded. “That’s genius. How many will hold it?”
“All of them. Xoc, Citlali, Nelli and Tenoch, with Mia and Kisa on the ends.”
Jessip drew his brows together. “How is the sign going to be unrolled?”
“Hmm.” Cheddar paused in his painting. “I thought the one who unrolls it would just hold the rolled up sign on top of their forelegs, but that’s pretty awkward, isn’t it?”
“Make a roller that the sign is rolled onto, like a big version of those rolling pins with handles that spin,” Terry said. “Mia or Kisa, whichever will carry it, holds the handles and the sign can unroll off of it.”
“That could work,” Cheddar said. “But I think there should be a braking mechanism so that the sign doesn’t just fly off of it uncontrollably.”
“I bet Renny could make it,” Jessip said. “He’s a woodworker. Or, well, he was before he joined Dragon Craft.”
“Great.” Cheddar smiled. “See what he thinks of the idea.”
+ + + + +
In the palace’s private gardens, Fillion watched as Master Gella, the High Lady at her side, quickly approached him and Coatl.
“I’ve got a team performing a security inspection on the inn and its personnel,” Master Gella said. “As for your people, the trip via train was a pleasant one, I am told, as was the portion completed since then, and they now await us at the agreed-upon location.”
“Excellent.” High Lady Hasana’s skirts brushed the large paving stones of the walkway as their quick steps came to an end. “At least some things worked out perfectly.”
Fillion ducked his head in a quick bow. “Some things, my lady?”
“My entourage’s train trip, versus why I did not travel with them. I remained here to get contracts from the last of the initial companies that will be part of my Fair Deal plan. I was finally able to work out terms and get the final one taken care of today. It’s frustrating that the two that took the longest are based here in Delcimaar, the seat of my supposed power, but at least I got the contracts before I had to leave.”
“I see.”
High Lady Hasana smiled at Coatl. “Hello, handsome.”
Coatl chirped and bobbed his head. My lady.
Fillion shook his head. That she’d addressed him that way made Coatl happier than he was letting on. Fillion was more concerned with her safety, however. “Master Gella, the path we’ll fly out from Stronghold, is it the same they will take on the way in?”
“It is. Why?”
“Good. If anyone is lying in wait, we’ll be able to locate them on the way while High Lady Hasana is safe with us.”
Master Gella nodded. “My thoughts exactly.”
The subject of their discussion smiled at him. “You’re not going to try to convince me not to go?”
He drew his brows together. “No, my lady. You have to go.”
She held out her hand toward him and turned to Master Gella. “See? He understands.”
The master investigator scowled. “Ma’am, I understand the necessity of it. That is not my concern. I’m worried about whether it’s safe there. Stronghold merely simmers now, but it could boil over into violence again.”
“Which is why I must go.” A glint in her eye, High Lady Hasana tilted her head. “Have there been more riots or large fights of any kind?”
Master Gella let out a short breath. “No, ma’am.”
“Have the patrols detected any people with thoughts of inciting more riots?”
“No, ma’am.”
“And your network, have they heard any whispers of anything untoward?”
Master Gella pressed her lips together. “Aside from what we’re currently investigating, no, ma’am, they have not.”
Fillion shared the master investigator’s concern. After all, there was an organized group in Stronghold working to slander the High Lady and do who knows what all else. But she was the leader of the country. She had to make an appearance to let the people there know that she was doing her best to help them. And Stronghold on the night of the festival was the perfect place to make her announcement.
High Lady Hasana smiled at Master Gella. “Well, all that being the case, I should be fine. Besides, I trust my security detail to ensure that I am kept safe. And you and yours will be doing your part, too, I am certain.”
“That we will, ma’am.” From Master Gella’s tone,
it was clear that anyone who attempted anything would be dealt with harshly.
The High Lady walked over to Coatl and patted his neck. “Shall we, then?”
Fillion hastily removed a riding belt from the saddle bag and moved to place it on her waist.
“If I could do that?” High Lady Hasana held out her hand. “Aside from my smallclothes, I hardly ever get a chance to dress myself at the palace.”
Fillion blinked. “O–Of course, my lady.” He handed the heavy leather belt to her. As she looked it over, he handed another to Master Gella.
“At least when I go somewhere secretly as Ana, I get to pick the outfit and dress myself.” After wrapping it around her waist, High Lady Hasana slid the belt through the buckle frame and slipped the two prongs through the holes in the leather of the belt. She pulled the end of the belt through the other side of the frame, looked up, and smiled. “And while there isn’t much involved, I still rather pride myself on being able to get ready to ride a dragon. Especially my magnificent man, Coatl, here.”
A very happy rumble came from Coatl. I really like her.
Fillion closed his eyes. Just great. Yes, well, most people who’ve met her, do.
He let out a sigh. “My lady, please. Don’t swell his head any larger than it already is.”
A light, happy laugh spilled from her. “I can’t help it. He’s the handsomest dragon I’ve met.”
“Technically, he’s the only dragon you’ve met, my lady.” The sparkle in Master Gella’s eyes belied her dead-pan tone.
The High Lady placed a finger to her lips. “True. I did attend a bonding, but with all that happened, there wasn’t time or occasion to congratulate the mothers. I really should meet more dragons. But later. My coach awaits.”
She turned, lifted her skirts with one hand, and with the other, grabbed the pull strap. Using Coatl’s hastily raised foreleg as a step-stool, she pulled herself deftly into the saddle. After a brief moment arranging herself, she turned to them with a very self-satisfied smile on her lips.
The leader of the nation sat on his dragon, skirts pulled up in a mass around her waist, her long legs mostly exposed, and her fancy-expensive-shoe-clad feet in the stirrups. Her silk stockings, held up with black stays, were white.
Fillion observed that the High Lady had rather nice legs. Gregor would have been glad to have seen them.
She raised a brow. “I’d have worn pants under, as I have before as Ana, except that they might be revealed as I climbed the steps into my coach and my retinue would be scandalized.” She drew her brows together. “That’s something else I may have to change, depending on how often I get to work with dragons in the future. If I had pants made in the dragonlinked style for those times, pants of a purpose . . . hmm.”
“Speaking of my lady’s retinue . . .” Master Gella mounted up quickly. “We really should go.”
Fillion made for the saddle.
What would a job position here at the palace for a dragonlinked be like? Would it be fun? Or would it be boring? What was life like in the palace, anyway? Aside from that one meeting with the High Lady—Master Gella had hustled him through the hallways so there really hadn’t been time to take anything in—he’d only ever sat in the gardens with Coatl.
As enormous power flowed over and through him and Coatl, and as mist swirled within the glass-like violet sphere above, he decided that it would probably not be very exciting. Whoever took such a job would need something to keep them occupied in the lulls between flying the High Lady around.
The geometric sphere vanished, leaving the cloudy opening to distant lands. Coatl took them through, and then hovered, waiting for him to end the gateway spell.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?”
The voice from behind made Fillion look over his shoulder.
Gaze on Stronghold’s outskirts several miles away, High Lady Hasana said, “That we can be here on the other side of the continent as if simply stepping through a door still astonishes me.”
“Well,” he noted, “this is only possible, ma’am, because Coatl and I spent a great deal of time getting here the old-fashioned way first.” He glanced at the portal, and after a quick spell, it faded to nothingness. “A gateway can only be opened to where one has already been.”
“Still,” she turned to him, eyes bright in the sunlight, “once one dragonlinked has been somewhere, she or he can then open a gateway for others, and then they will have the destination, correct?”
“Yes, ma’am. We’ve actually made use of that procedure.” He glanced beyond the High Lady to Master Gella and caught her eye. “Which way?”
The master investigator pointed to a road in the distance. “Take that to the west. I think a two thousand foot altitude should be plenty to keep us from being too noticeable. He can still sense people at that height, correct?”
“Yes.” He nodded. Let’s go, big guy. Two thousand foot altitude. If you sense someone, drop to riot patrol altitude to determine whether they think of the High Lady.
With a rumble, Coatl beat his wings faster as he turned for the far road.
Let me know if you sense anyone thinking about her being near, because the only ones who should know she’s here are her people waiting at the coach.
I will.
When Master Gella had asked for his and Coatl’s assistance with this a week or so ago, she mentioned that, aside from four people, no one knew the exact route the High Lady would be taking to Stronghold, and in fact, not many even knew she was going there.
He’d wondered aloud why they didn’t just take her directly to the city.
“She cannot travel to an event like this without her security detail and retinue,” Master Gella had explained. “Coatl is a fine dragon, but he cannot carry the nearly two-dozen people involved, not to mention the luggage and other gear. Additionally, we don’t want questions raised about how closely the Dragon Craft Guild works with the High Lady, nor do we want people wondering how it is that she was on both sides of the continent on the same day. Thus, we had her people and transportation leave with enough time to make it to the festival while she stayed behind to work in secret. Once we deliver her, she and her caravan will be able to arrive in Stronghold in as perfectly ordinary a manner—and apparent travel time—as we could wish for.”
All that had been well and good. Right now, though, he felt a responsibility to keep the High Lady safe. Coatl, Master Gella and himself could do so on this trip to the carriage, but what if there were assassins lying in wait for the High Lady’s caravan as it slowly made its way to Stronghold?
Master Gella said we travel the route she will on the way there, so I will be able to sense them if there are people like that waiting.
I hope so.
I, too, do not want her harmed.
Fillion reached down and patted Coatl firmly on the neck.
With a rumble, Coatl angled his glide to the left to catch another rising column of warmer air.
Fillion took a breath and sat up in the saddle. The road led mostly in a direct line west, but it did meander a bit around obstructions. Master Gella would tell them if they had to head another direction. Until then, it was a matter of getting as comfortable as possible for the flight and keeping an eye out for anything that looked suspicious.
A nervous hour and a half passed with only one side-track around a small village, and he was wondering if they would ever arrive, when Master Gella shouted over the rushing air.
“Over there!” She pointed to a barely discernible clearing in a wooded area about two miles north of the road.
I see it. Coatl banked right. There is no room in the clearing. I will land at the edge of the trees.
Sounds good, big guy. He turned back. “He’s taking us down to the edge of the trees!”
Master Gella nodded. “Perfect!”
It didn’t take long to dismount and put the gear back in the saddle bags.
High Lady Hasana patted Coatl on his large cheek. “Thank you, Coatl. Would that
I could ride with you more often.”
You have but to ask, my lady.
Fillion shook his head and smiled at his bond-mate’s presumption. Not that he would object. It was a pleasure sharing the joy of dragon flight with those of like mind.
High Lady Hasana chuckled and turned to Master Gella. “Shall we?”
“Yes, ma’am. They’re on the way.” Master Gella tucked her ’writer into her jacket and turned to him. “If you and Coatl could remain here please? The fewer of her people who know how she arrived, the better. Besides, the High Lady will be changing clothes with her double before she and her retinue head back to the carriage, so . . .”
Fillion chuckled. “Of course. We’ll await your return.”
Coatl chirped, then lay upon the ground and set his chin on his forepaws.
As they disappeared into the trees, Fillion idly wondered at the life of a person who had doubles. It sounded frustrating. Sneaking about and then either having two sets of clothes, or having to trade clothes, like right now. The thought that the High Lady was changing just over there made him wonder if her smallclothes matched the white silk of her stockings, or the black silk of the stays. White would be best, he decided, with black trim of some sort.
That is correct.
He turned to Coatl. What?
They are white with black trim.
He raised his brows. How on Lethera do you know that? Did you get a peek or something as she climbed up?
A strong feeling of outrage came through the link. I do not . . . peek. She thought of them briefly when she saw you looking at her stockings.
Oh. Sorry. He turned and leaned back against his bond-mate’s large shoulder. The High Lady had good taste, then. Unlike Gregor. Half the time the young man’s socks didn’t even match. He never seemed embarrassed by it, either.
Fillion frowned. You know, now I think about it, it’s actually a breach of her privacy for you to tell me about her smallclothes.
It is? Coatl lifted his head and turned to him. I should apologize to her, then.
Good gods, no!
Why not?
It will probably embarrass her horribly if she finds out you told me about her underwear.
Of Gods, Trees, and a Sapling: Dragonlinked Chronicles Volume 4 Page 61
