The Little Dragons

by Rowan Starsmith

  This was a depressing refection, for what were the possibilities? A second Dragon took him? The Dragon that snatched Keiran dropped him in favour of Gleve? The soldiers would have no reason to kill a Healer, would they? But they might have taken him with them.

  “If Gleve were free and uninjured, where would he go?

  “He’d come here,” Keiran reluctantly admitted.

  “And he may yet,” Maida said, “But meanwhile, I think the important thing is to get that sketchbook of yours to the School. It might be very, very important. We’re lucky it wasn’t damaged or lost already.”

  “But what if Gleve …”

  “If I hear of him, I will go and get him if I can,” Maida promised, “And if he turns up here, I will send him after you. Wouldn’t he want you to complete your joint mission?”

  “But at the School, I’m a King’s man. Why would they believe me?”

  “Ask for Mother Peg. Show her the sketchbook.”

  The evening he left, Keiran was slow and reluctant. Maida reassured him, there was nothing to be gained for Gleve by staying. She had prepared a pack for him with food for the journey, freshly filled a travel lantern with fuel. Keiran finally hefted his pack to his shoulder and wrapped his arms around Aymeric, held him for a long time. As the hug continued, Aymeric’s face transformed from delight to concern. Keiran stepped back. “You be good,” he said. “I’ll be back soon.”

  “No,” said Aymeric, shaking his head. “Go.”

  “No, dear brother. You must stay here and take care of Maida.”

  Aymeric folded his arms across his huge chest and shook his head. As Keiran turned to go, Aymeric followed. “No, no, Aymeric. You must stay here,” Keiran insisted. Aymeric just planted himself and waited, too large for either Keiran or Maida to restrain by force.

  “Time is passing,” Maida said after awhile.

  “I don’t think I can go without him,” Keiran said.

  “Obviously,” Maida said. “Wait here.” She ran to the pantry and quickly prepared another, larger, pack of food. Returning to the courtyard, she silently handed it to Aymeric, who instantly displayed the delighted expression he had worn since Keiran was restored to him. “Take care,” Maida said, kissing them both. “The Mother be with you.” And she watched them disappear, the rambling giant and the slender youth, into the forest.

  Chapter 99: Anglewart

  Ermin stood before his King’s desk with several pieces of parchment in his hand. “We have two people in the Eastlands trying to claim your reward, Your Highness,” he said. “And their descriptions match—a young woman, an old woman and a blue Little Dragon, traveling eastward on the trail to the Healer’s School. One report comes from a couple in an isolated cottage along the road, the other from a drover, who identifies the old woman as that witch from near Tummel.” A shiver traveled up Anglewart’s spine. “All of this matches reports from a spy I have placed as housekeeper for a witch here in the Westlands. She says there are stories among them about a Little Dragon and some connection with that old Crone.” He lowered the papers, looked expectantly at the King.

  Anglewart ran his hand over his tired eyes. “These aren’t the usual vague rumours, are they? How are we going to find out more?”

  “It’s that old witch we need to question.”

  “You know the law won’t allow us to interfere with one of the witches.” Ermin’s eyebrows rose. “Come now, we would never get away with arresting a senior one like her.”

  “What about the young one that lives with her? She’s got to know what’s going on. We could snatch her for some questions.” He said questions with a twist of his mouth, a little torture, he meant.

  “We’d be little more likely to get away with kidnapping a witch in training.”

  “She’s not a witch in training. Just the old woman’s servant.”

  Anglewart’s eyebrows went up now. “Is that all she is?” Ermin nodded.

  Chapter 100: Odd and Gimlin, King’s Men-at-Arms

  “So what do you think of this?” Odd said, swinging his lantern as he walked.

  “Not much,” said Gimlin, his companion. “Would you hold that bloody thing still?”

  Odd let his light stop swaying. “So we’re supposed to snatch a servant away from one of them witches? You know what they can do to you?”

  Gimlin shivered.” Everyone knows that, turn you into anything they want.”

  “Hate men too, don’t they? Fancy going home with no balls, Gimlin?”

  Gimlin shivered again. “So we got to be very, very careful, like they told us. Get her when she leaves the place, so the old witch thinks she just got lost in the woods, hurt herself, got et by a Dragon.”

  “Yeah, simple.” It was Odd’s turn to shiver.

  Chapter 101: Melisande

  On the night of Jessa’s wedding, Head Mother Mabonne invited Melisande and Imelda to her reception room. When they got there, they could hear the organ playing joyful music in the Cathedral. The large set of double doors that Melisande had always wondered about stood open. Propped inward, they revealing a shallow balcony with an ornate railing and a view of the High Altar of the Cathedral. Melisande looked down and realized they were completely hidden from the congregation gathering in the large church, not only because of their height above the floor, but because the opening was covered by a filmy curtain. Head Mother Mabonne pointed out an identical balcony, except without the curtain, facing this one from across the nave. It belonged to the reception room of the Head Father of the Men’s Retreat House, she explained. This pair of balconies allowed the Head Father and Mother, along with anyone else they saw fit to include, to observe services they were not allowed to attend. In the case of the Head Father, these were only the services of the Women’s Retreat House, because they were allowed to attend public celebrations and royal events. The women, on the other hand, could attend only their own services.

  Melisande and Imelda watched intently as glittering nobles filled the pews, their voices rising along with the music. “Will you be seated?” Mother Mabonne asked. There were three padded chairs arrayed behind them. They did as they were asked, but leaned forward, their elbows on the railing, so they could see everything unfolding in the nave. Most people they knew, of course, and they exclaimed back and forth, pointing out one or another of their friends or acquaintances below.

  Just before the wedding was to begin, the two royal families about to enter this important alliance were guided up the aisle by the ushers and seated in the front rows--Prince Locheil’s brothers and sisters were there, along with four pews full of extended family. “They always were a handsome lot,” Imelda remarked.

  The royal family of the Westlands included Anglewart’s brothers and sisters and their families and, of course, Melisande’s relatives. “Oh Imelda,” she whispered at the sight of her own sisters and brothers still dressed in mourning black. “It hasn’t been quite a year since my ‘death,’ has it?”

  “Look,” Imelda whispered. “Your Aunt Amaris. That woman never ages.”

  “Oh what I wouldn’t give for a visit with her,” Melisande said, and Head Mother Mabonne gave her a disapproving glance.

  Last of all, Lochiel’s mother, Queen Calantha, entered on the arm of her oldest son and was guided to her seat in the front row. Behind her came her husband, King Leo of the Southlands.

  The door on the far side of the altar opened and the groom’s party entered the church. Lochiel came first, tall, slender, displaying his nerves by rubbing one hand in the other. Melisande studied him. She could not see his face very well from so far away, but she remembered meeting him when he and his parents came to negotiate the union. He seemed a gentle, if perhaps shy, young man. She fervently hoped that he would provide a loving union for her beautiful Jessa.

  Behind him came his best man, Melisande’s second oldest son, Eldrin. They were the same age and had been friends since they were very young. Melisande took her breath in at the sight of Eldrin. A passionate rider, he
had grown into the straight, confident posture of the skilled horseman. “Look how tall and strong he’s become,” she whispered to Imelda.

  “We tend to remember them as they were when they were much younger, don’t we?” Imelda whispered back.

  Behind Eldrin came his brothers Torrie and Farrell. “Oh look at them,” Melisande raised her handkerchief to her mouth and could not say more. They were indeed handsome young men. Torrie and Eldrin were, in different ways, images of their father, although Torrie, to his own dismay, had interited Melisande’s short stature. Farrell was in all ways a young male version of herself.

  There was a pause, filled with shuffling and expectation, then the organist leaped into the traditional wedding processional. Below them all heads turned to watch King Anglewart, tall and powerful despite his aging face and greying hair, dressed every inch the monarch he was, advance up the aisle with Jessa on his arm. Despite herself, Melisande’s heart gave a little lurch at the sight of him.

  Jessa carried as much ivory silk as a skilled seamstress could possibly fit on to her small but sturdy body. Her face, of course, was veiled and four serving women, all close young relatives, carried her train. She held a huge bouquet of blue and white lilies, the colours of Anglewart’s house, and Melisande thought she could see the flowers trembling in the young woman’s hands. What a weight we put on our children, she thought, the full load of our royal blood, our family pride, our ruling power, our aspirations to dynasty.

  The music faded as they reached the head of the aisle. The Priest stepped forward and asked the ritual question: who would give this woman to this man? Anglewart responded in his deep voice and stepped back to take his place in the front row. The priest reached for Jessa’s hand. She turned to give her bouquet to one of the women who had just arranged her train in a becoming curve down the altar steps. The Priest placed her strong young hand in Lochiel’s. Melisande imagined that she could sense the young woman’s joy, or at least she hoped that was what Jessa was feeling. Under the stern eyes of the Warrior God the ancient words meant to tie a young woman’s fate to that of her husband began.

  Chapter 102: Odd and Gimlin, King’s Men-at-Arms

  “So’s that her, then? The one we’re s’posed to take?” Odd muttered to his companion. He and Gimlin crouched in the bushes beside the path. Ahead of them the trail opened out into a tiny clearing. Light shone from the windows of a cottage. A woman of the Earth People walked across the yard, her lantern casting a bright circle on the packed earth. She entered another building, likely a barn, because they could see her light shining in the cracks between the rough boards of the walls.

  “I reckon,” whispered Gimlin. “But what I want to know is where’s the witch?”

  “Bet she’s in the cottage. She’s old, remember? They can live to be a hundred, maybe two hundred years old.”

  Gimlin shuddered. “I don’t care how old she is. I don’t want to meet her.”

  “We won’t, idiot.” Odd spat into the dirt beside them. “We’ll get the young one when she comes out of the barn.”

  “What if she yells?”

  “That’s your job. I’ll grab her. You put a hand over her mouth.”

  “Right.”

  “Right.”

  “So now we wait?”

  “Now we wait.”

  And they waited, and waited. Gimlin stretched his legs. “Shh,” hissed Odd.

  There was no sound from either cottage or barn. Odd said: “Don’t s’pose they know we’re here? You know those witches can see through walls, don’t you?” Gimlin shifted his weight. “Shh,” Odd hissed again.

  A shadow passed by, visible in the cracks between the boards of the barn. “There, she’s coming,” said Odd. Both men raised themselves from where they were sitting on the ground to a squatting position, and waited. And waited.

  “How do we know the witch isn’t in the barn?” whispered Gimlin.

  “Shit,” muttered Odd.

  “Shhh,” Gimlin admonished this time. He craned his neck to try and glimpse the stars between the trees above them. “What time do you s’pose it is?”

  “Night was already part gone when we got here, damn those cowards in Tummel.” It had taken some time to find anyone ready to tell them which path led to the witch’s clearing. A little boy finally pointed it out, just before his mother jerked him away and made the sign of the Warrior God, the same as everyone else they had asked. “I think I see light,” Odd looked hopefully into the trees to the east of them.

  Gimlin stared uncomfortably in the same direction. “Yeah, I think so too.” He looked back at the cottage, where nothing had changed. “All right, we’ll go back to Tummel and put up at the tavern for the day, then come back tomorrow night. Hey!” he exclaimed as Gimlin started off down the path to Timmel before he had even finished. “Wait for me.”

  Chapter 103: Anglewart

  At the reception following his daughter’s wedding, King Anglewart looked down from the high table at his hall filled with revelers. It was not his usual angle, because the high seats normally occupied by the King and Queen, had been given, as tradition dictated, to the young couple. On the far side sat King Leo and Queen Calantha beside their handsome young son. Beside him, in her mother’s former chair, sat Jessa, flushed and excited and as beautiful as any young woman he had ever seen, except, of course, her mother. His heart was stabbed by an unexpected dagger of love and sadness mingled. As if aware of it, Jessa turned to look at him. Her hand was resting on the arm of her chair, under the table. He reached for it, held it in his own. The callouses were fading, but her hand would probably always show the legacy of hard work she had endured growing up. Oh my daughter, he thought, you will have to keep them covered to pass as the pampered Princess you are supposed to be. He squeezed it. She smiled at him, joy and trepidation mingled in her eyes.

  The King turned his attention again to the room before him and something caught his eye. By the wall two men stood, heads together, consulting intensely. One head was young and wore the heir’s crown. The other was sprinkled with grey—Ermin. The King’s eyes narrowed. Since when did they know one another so well?

  The next evening, shortly after bidding farewell to the Southlands party as they departed for home, Jessa one of them now, Anglewart called Ermin to him. “Is the date set for my marriage to Thalassa?” he asked.

  “There are some problems, your Highness.”

  “The meat vendors?”

  “Yes, also some scrambling to find enough fabric for the ladies’ dresses. You know women; they can’t wear the same thing to two weddings.”

  A beat of silence went by before the King roared, “I don’t care about the women’s dresses, nor the meat for that matter. Let’s get this wedding date settled and the ceremony arranged. Now!”

  Ermin blanched, then bowed deeply and started toward the door.

  Next Anglewart summoned his eldest son. “It’s time you did some work with a group of soldiers in the field,” he said. “Pack your things. As of tomorrow, you are taking over command of the border patrol between the Westlands and the Eastlands.”

  Torrie opened his mouth, but no words came. He tried again, “But, your Highness, Father …”

  “No buts,” the King said through clenched teeth. “Go.”

  Chapter 104: Maida

  The sky was lightening. Maida rushed to finish her milking. There was so much work without Rafe to help. She seemed to be constantly running behind. On top of that, there was a weight of loneliness upon her. With Mother Peg, Keiran, Rafe, and her beloved Liandra all gone, the cottage echoed with emptiness. The clearing seemed abandoned. And where was Gleve? With no conversation to fill her nights, and sleeping poorly during the day, she worried about what had become of him. Her concern washed away the last of her anger at him for breaking his promise to talk to Mother Sarah at the Spring Equinox Gathering.

  The sun was uncomfortably close to rising when she picked up her buckets at the stable door and prepared to run across
the courtyard. She checked the sky and could see a faint outline of a Dragon on the eastern horizon. Slopping milk in her haste, she scurried across the yard and through the kitchen door.

  She had set the milk pails on the counter and pulled the shutters of the kitchen window closed when there was a huge racket in the yard, a beating of air, a scraping and scrabbling. Maida froze, afraid to even peek.

  A second later, there was a knock on the door. “Maida? Are you there?”

  Maida gasped and lunged for the door. “Liandra!” She grabbed Liandra’s sleeve and pulled her over the threshold, then stopped as if turned into a statue, horrified. The yard was completely filled with the feet and tail of a glittering blue Dragon.

  Liandra put her arms around her shocked friend and began to laugh. “Maida, dear, it’s all right, really.” At that moment, Roxtrianatrix slithered through the open door and darted in circles around the two of them, chirping in what could only be delight.

  As Liandra released her, Maida wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

  The Dragon in the yard bent over to peer in through the door, its reptilian snout filled with teeth and its eyes filled with slowly turning colours, like a spinning pinwheel. Maida gasped and leaped back, farther from the door, trying to pull Liandra with her. “This is Alethilion,” Liandra said, indicating the Dragon at the door with her hand. “Roxtrianatrix’s father.”

  Maida made breakfast while Liandra told her the story. “Where is Mother Peg?” she asked.

  “I last saw her on the Barrens. I assume she made her way to the Healers’ School.”

  “You assume?”

  “She wasn’t very far away from it, was she? I have no way of checking, and I don’t want to talk about her. I want to talk about us. Please, Maida, come to the mountains with me.”

  “But Mother Peg told me to take care of the cottage.”

  “Maida, look at how she treats you! Besides, she may not come back for months, even years, maybe never.”