A Dragon for William

by Julie E. Czerneda

  Was it? Werfol chewed and swallowed while he considered the question. The story pages were still wrapped around his stomach and should, he thought, be dealt with to keep Momma from truedreaming. The rest? He bumped his brother with his shoulder and grinned. “Yes. Better than all right. I’ve something to show you tomorrow.”

  For the turn would come again, every sunset. They didn’t have to go back to Marrowdell for magic.

  It had been here all along.

  Epilogue

  The Westietas’ Midwinter Beholding that year would later be considered the start of a new era for Rhothans and Ansnans, of Vorkoun and Mondir, alike. Following the festivities, the Baron Westietas, though exiled, provided a way forward in dealing with the Eld concerning their train outside of Avyo and the court. He revealed the result of secret consultations with a prominent Ansnan engineer, who was present at the gathering to the consternation of many. The best route for the tracks was not, as feared, through the northern—Rhothan—portion of their city, meaning most would be destroyed. The best route was to utilize the causeway itself, the Ansnan providing assurance the massive structure was more than able to bear the load of track and traffic combined.

  With this, the baron and chancellor’s joint proposal to build a maintenance facility for the train’s engines and a station to receive passengers and goods was received with cheers and vows of investment.

  Any who brought up the baron’s current exile and lack of power in Avyo, who dared claimed Prince Ordo wouldn’t stand for Vorkoun acting independently and they were reckless to try, were drowned out by the joy of those seeing the chance for a peaceful, profitable future.

  Though the baroness quietly took note of their names before having a conversation with their other Ansnan guest.

  * * *

  “Weed. Your toad’s in my bed again. It’s—it’s clammy!”

  Werfol smiled into the dark. “That’s because it likes you.” He’d wondered where the house toad had gone, had worried, in fact, it might have chosen to stay in the edge. How it had returned to their bedroom unnoticed was, quite simply, among the tricks house toads could do. “Maybe it’ll start laying eggs.”

  There was the sound of blankets being tossed and a plop! “Not in my bed!”

  A moment later, Werfol felt a weight settle on his foot. It wasn’t too heavy.

  It felt just right.

  * * *

  It wasn’t the next evening, or the next, but three before Werfol finally brought his family, with Dutton but without the house toad, who wouldn’t leave their improved fireplace, along the path leading to the ossuary. A cloud caught on the furthest mountain peak sparkled with snow, but the sky was clear.

  The sun, low.

  They’d dressed warmly, being out so late, and brought lanterns for the walk home. Momma and Poppa, like Dutton, wore swords and pistols over their coats, having been warned of the nephrit and other dangers. But Werfol suspected they’d be safe. After all, Dauntless and Spirit weren’t in their stable.

  They weren’t here either, not that he could see, but he didn’t doubt they were being watched.

  Semyn shivered. “Are you sure I’ll remember?”

  “The kruar did,” Werfol reminded him. “You will,” he promised, not that he could or should, but he hoped more than he’d hoped for anything and that had to count.

  Poppa adjusted the pack he carried. He kept looking around, as if expecting a sign. “I’ve walked this path my entire life. And at sunset,” he said, sounding a little frustrated, as if somehow he’d missed the obvious. “How could I not know?”

  The edge wasn’t obvious at all, so Werfol grinned. “Things hide.”

  Momma nodded, her eyes busy too. “Wise of them. Lead the way, sweetling, and we’ll follow.”

  Werfol stepped in front, though he grew a little scared until he caught a glimpse of dark brown hide in the brush beside the path and knew he’d been right. The kruar were here and would guard them.

  He wasn’t entirely sure he could tell where the edge began, having been busy being chased by the Round Man—who’d turned out to be a hired assassin and had given Momma interesting names before being turned over to the Ansnan authorities in Mondir, that being another part, she’d told them, of building peace.

  They walked together down the path. The companionable crunch of leaves and soft breaths of family wrapped themselves around Werfol’s heart. There were no secrets left, except for the house toad which wasn’t so much a secret as a guest disinclined to be shared, disappearing if anyone else entered their room. He and Semyn had decided to accept the toad’s wish, it being impossible to prove there was a toad. Unless there were eggs, but thus far, they’d not found one. Semyn had told the toad to lay them in the kitchen, for the cook, but who knew if a toad listened?

  He walked out of the shadows of the forest, the swath of song stones—of scree—to one side, bright and white. Werfol pointed. “I was in the middle, over there.”

  “Shall we wait here, then?” Momma asked. “The stones would seem to belong more to the Verge than to us.”

  Werfol wished he’d thought of that. Still. “I think we should go in a little. To be sure.” He led the way over the tightly packed stones, to a spot where they could all stand together. Before they’d taken two steps, Semyn grabbed his hand. “Weed—I remember. I remember! It’s all true. Wisp and Jenn and Marrowdell.”

  The brothers hugged one another and bounced for joy, not noticing how their fond parents—and the famous Dutton Omemee—wiped their eyes.

  Then Poppa eased off his pack and knelt, gently tipping out the contents. The stones from inside rolled and clattered as they joined the others, but were otherwise silent.

  To Werfol’s deeper sight, they had faces, but they were frozen in grimaces and horrible screams. Probably dead, he thought sadly. Even so, they’d decided as a family that the stones in the house rightly belonged here—another reason for the delay in coming, for it took two masons much of a day to pry them—carefully—from the fireplaces.

  Dutton made to speak, then stopped.

  For the turn had come. Nephrit snarled from the forest and larger things howled. The kruar roared, quieting them all.

  Eyes popped open and Semyn let out a gasp. The scree weren’t hiding, not at all. The entire slope of the mountain stared at them in a most unsettling manner.

  Werfol pulled out a hammer. It wasn’t big, being a toy hammer he’d kept in the chest in their bedroom with the stuffed bears and Goosie and odd things neither he, nor Semyn, were willing to part with quite yet.

  Stubby little hands reached out pleadingly.

  On impulse, he gave the hammer to the scree closest to the silent ones.

  The scree’s wide wrinkled mouth turned up at the ends and it struck the nearest silent stone with a mighty blow.

  Eyes blinked, slowly, one at a time, and Werfol held his breath.

  Encouraged, the scree with the hammer began smacking all the stones, over and over. Its neighbors joined in, rolling into one another until the air rang with a sound like bells.

  Then every scree stopped, and it was very quiet indeed.

  Until one of the stones from the house reached out and took the toy hammer, then smacked itself. The tone produced was so sweet and pure Werfol felt tears come to his eyes, and it only got better as the others grabbed for the hammer and smacked themselves and each other and the people watching had to laugh.

  The turn passed. The scree became white little stones again and the air filled with the quiet of peace.

  “Hearts of our Ancestors,” Poppa prayed after a long long moment, “we are beholden for this gift and for our son’s precious sight.” He let out an unsteady breath. “And I want a map of where the edge meets our world here. Sooner than later.”

  “Agreed,” Momma said. She bent down to kiss Werfol on the head. “Home for something warm by
the fire first.” Then she bent, a little less far, to kiss Semyn. “Be brave.”

  Because in a few footsteps, his brother would forget what had happened, and think only that they’d come to see the sunset, and Werfol wished with all his big heart it were otherwise.

  But he wasn’t turn-born, like Jenn Nalynn, and couldn’t wish things true.

  Semyn put his hand on Werfol’s shoulder and gave him a little push. “Don’t worry. Weed will remember for me and I’ll believe him. That’s how it will be,” in his high, but adult voice.

  The truth shone in his face. Before they could all start to cry again, Werfol pushed back, making his brother stumble into Dutton, but he was smiling and Semyn was too.

  “That’s how it will be,” he echoed, making it a promise.

  Wishes Do Come True

  Prince William, who was the greatest prince the kingdom had ever had, stood on the top of his tower surveying the land and all his happy people.

  Beside him stood his little brother Simon, who wasn’t as brave about being so high and held onto the railing. “What’s going to happen?” he asked.

  “You’ll see.” William laughed. “Did you bring your flute?”

  “I did.” Simon was learning to play it and could almost do some songs.

  “Play your favorite note.”

  His brother brought the flute to his lips, then stopped. “I don’t have a favorite,” he confessed, being an honest person most of the time. “I do,” he added with a hopeful look, “have a best note. I can do that very loud.”

  William smiled. “Play it. As loud as you can.”

  Simon played the note, and it was loud. So loud was the note, it broke window glass and made Cook’s new cake fall flat in the oven. It made people at the far ends of William’s kingdom come outside to see what could be happening.

  And it brought a dragon, flying from the clouds.

  Simon ducked behind William, peering out. “Is that—is that—”

  It was, but it wasn’t, but William didn’t bother to explain. This dragon was a faded gold, like old metal. As it came closer, Simon edged out to see, then pointed eagerly. “Look!” he shouted, no longer afraid, because this dragon had big purple dots under its wings and on its belly, just like the toy goose he slept with almost every night.

  This dragon beat its great wings a final time, landing gently behind them on the top of the tower. It had not one but two beautiful saddles on its back, the frontmost larger than the rear. Both had handles and stirrups, and a ladder hung down in welcome.

  This dragon smiled a friendly, if toothy, smile, and bent its long neck to regard them both. Its eyes were as big as dinner trays but weren’t rainbows. These eyes glowed with a warm golden light when it asked, What is your wish, Prince William?

  And William, who was the bravest prince there had ever been, and also the smartest, knew he had no reason to fear or doubt. “Show us our kingdom!”

  Climb aboard, this dragon invited, and so they did.

  William took up the jeweled reins, made sure Simon was secure behind him, then gave the command:

  “Fly!”

  CONCERNING THE DENIZENS OF MARROWDELL

  Aunt Sybb (the Lady Sybb Mahavar, nee Nalynn), aunt to Jenn Nalynn. Spends summers in Marrowdell, winters at home in Avyo with her husband.

  Bannan Marerrym Larmensu, brother of Lila, rider of Scourge. Former Vorkoun border guard. Truthseer and, in Marrowdell, farmer.

  Cheffy Ropp, born in Marrowdell. Helps his family in their dairy.

  Dusom Uhthoff (Master Dusom), village teacher in Marrowdell.

  Gallie Emms, mother of baby Loee.

  Jenn Nalynn, born in Marrowdell under magical circumstances. Turn-born.

  Loee Emms, daughter of Gallie.

  Old Jupp (Wagler Jupp), great-uncle of Riss. Former secretary of the House of Keys in Avyo. Currently writing his memoirs.

  Riss Nahamm, great-niece of Wagler Jupp.

  Scourge, the Larmensu warhorse. In Marrowdell, his true nature as a kruar was revealed.

  Wisp the dragon, Jenn Nalynn’s dearest friend and protector.

  CONCERNING THE DENIZENS OF VORKOUN

  Aunt Kinsel, Emon’s father’s sister.

  Bish Fingal, one of Emon’s companions. Betrayed him in Mellynne and killed by Dutton as she tried to kill Emon.

  Breeta, new Westietas’ smithy.

  Chancellor Rober Milne, chief administrator of Vorkoun.

  Cheek, one of Emon’s crows.

  Dutton Omemee, one of Emon’s companions.

  Emon Westietas, father of Semyn and Werfol, husband of Lila. Baron, holding the seat for Vorkoun in the House of Keys.

  Fullarton, head of Vorkoun’s Potter’s Guild.

  Gore, administrator of waterworks in Vorkoun.

  Herer, one of Emon’s companions.

  Issan, Semyn and Werfol’s former tutor.

  Lady Estaire, member of a Vorkoun noble house. The Worst Liar, according to Werfol.

  Lila Westietas, nee Larmensu, mother of Semyn and Werfol, wife of Emon, sister of Bannan. Baroness.

  Revis, Westietas’ housekeeper.

  Scatterwit, one of Emon’s crows.

  Semyn Westietas, elder son of Lila and Emon, brother of Werfol, nephew of Bannan. Heir to the barony.

  Sendrick, Westietas’ new butler.

  Tess, twin to Tixel. New staff. Liar Twin, according to Werfol.

  Tixel, twin to Tess. New staff. Liar Twin, according to Werfol.

  Werfol (Weed) Westietas, younger son of Lila and Emon, brother of Semyn, nephew of Bannan.

  CONCERNING OTHERS MENTIONED

  Glammis Lurgan, collector.

  Tir Half-face (Tirsan Dimelecor), former Vorkoun border guard. Bannan’s friend and companion. Has taken service with the Lady Mahavar in Avyo.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  This story began as a gift to a family friend on the birth of her first child. As happens to writers, the idea of “A Dragon for William” grew and grew—as did the child, gaining a brother while I was busy with other stories. Joy is wont to multiply.

  So it is with gratitude that I thank you, William, for inspiring the story Werfol wrote, and you, Colin, for reminding me of the importance of brothers. Oh, and your parents, Mark and Lauren, who did all the hard work.

  I’d like to thank Bob Milne, who ran the wonderful review blog about books called “Beauty in Ruins” and has been my good friend for years. He is, as you may have noticed, Chancellor Rober Milne, in this story. Another appearing here is Ioana Bertrand, Ioana the Cook, who volunteered to be my alpha reader and check my facts. Thank you! Any remaining mistakes are mine. Last and not least, our friend Norman Cates from New Zealand, who has graciously allowed me to use Namron Setac for the mysterious new tutor. I hope to see him costume that one!

  Thank you, Sheila Gilbert and Joshua Starr, for letting this story grow as it did, and helping me get it right. I offer virtual pies to the folks in production and to Katie Anderson who designed this gorgeous cover.

  And thank you Sara Megibow, for having A Turn of Light on your nightstand. It’s pretty great, knowing my agent loves toads too.

  However far we are apart,

  Keep Us Close

  About the Author

  Julie E. Czerneda is the author of the Species Imperative trilogy, the Night's Edge fantasy duology, and the Stratification novels. She is a multiple Aurora Award winner, and was a finalist for the John W. Campbell Award and the Philip K. Dick Award.

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