The Dragon Caller (Brightmoon Book 9)

by Pauline M. Ross

  “Ah, Garrett! Do come in!” An elegantly manicured hand waved him towards a chair. “Please, sit down.” As he gestured, a waft of perfume fluttered.

  Whenever they met, Garrett felt grubby and unkempt, and very, very old. His face showed his whole history, one of fist fights and misjudged training sessions and a life lived under a blazing sun. Oh for smooth, unblemished skin, and a body not criss-crossed with scars. And a little more height. There were advantages to being small enough to escape notice in a crisis, it was true, and more than once an enemy had made the fatal mistake of underestimating him. Besides, being short had given him a fierce desire to beat everyone to pulp, and he’d worked hard to be capable of it. But by the Gods, looking up at people all the time was very tedious. Sadly, even magic couldn’t make him taller, no matter how much he wished it.

  “Wine, Garrett? Do try this one, it’s from a very promising new vineyard near Thar-briana.”

  “Gods, Jonnor, what are all these people for? Women in the entrance hall, and those two blocks of wood who saw fit to show me to the door. What’s that all about?” He slumped into a chair, legs stretched out.

  Jonnor raised his eyes to the ceiling with a sigh. “Good morning, Jonnor. How are you, Jonnor? What a pleasant day, Jonnor.Any of these would be acceptable but no, you have to come in here whining like a child.What have you done? It’s all different.That’s myjob, Garrett, to be the public face of Amontis, and let me tell you, the customers like the girls who greet them, and they like being escorted to my office.”

  “Well, I don’t, and since I’m not a customer, there’s no need to make the effort with me. Shall we get down to business?”

  “I suppose so.” He poured wine for himself but not for Garrett. “And how is everyone on the island?”

  “Fine. Everyone’s fine.”

  “Kestimar? No worse?”

  “Just the same as ever.”

  “And Tella?”

  There was always that softer edge to Jonnor’s voice when he talked of Tella. Garrett suspected that he’d rather fancied himself in love with her at one time, and even now there was a tenderness towards her that belied the utter selfishness of the man in other ways. Well, Garrett couldn’t quarrel with Jonnor’s taste in women, for he’d been half in love with her himself, once. More than half, perhaps, and not his restrained, sensible half, either. She was the kind of woman to attract men like wasps to a honeypot, and many a man harboured a secret passion for her, if the truth were known. She’d never favoured Jonnor with any particular attention, but Garrett couldn’t fault him for his devotion over the years.

  “Tella’s in her usual excellent health.”

  Jonnor grunted. “What are Kestimar’s wishes this time?”

  “His orders are here, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary.” Garrett fished two crumpled sheets of paper from a pocket, making a valiant attempt to smooth them out.

  Jonnor took hold of them by the fingertips, looking at them distastefully. He laid them out on an angled writing box, and then picked up a writing stick, making swift marks here and there on each paper. For all Jonnor looked like a foolish aesthete, he was as sharp as a dagger when it came to the business, and made his dispositions with admirable decision.

  Garrett stared blandly into space, pretending to take no interest. Jonnor thought his marks were out of sight, but to Garrett it was not so. His magical ability was a small but useful one – to look through another person’s eyes and see exactly as they saw. With a quick shift in his mind, he was able to see the papers spread out and note every mark that Jonnor made. It had taken a while to work out the meanings of the marks but now Garrett knew instantly which instructions Jonnor planned to comply with, which he would delay and which would be ignored altogether. He never used the information, but it gave him inestimable pleasure to see the small ways in which Jonnor defied his superior, and Kestimar’s bewilderment when his clear instructions inexplicably failed to bring the expected results.

  “Anything else?” Jonnor said, laying down the stick and scooping up the papers into a neat pile.

  “I’m to tell you that he’s disappointed in the delay to theSundancer, and he wants to know if it’s true about Lukran day Norre taking his custom elsewhere.”

  “Pfft, what nonsense!”

  “No truth in it, then? Contracts being drawn up as we speak?”

  Jonnor reddened slightly. “It’s not quite that simple. Norre is a complicated man who needs to be… coaxed into an agreement. He needs to feel he is in charge of the process.”

  “Even when he isn’t? I hear his wife is the one in charge.”

  “You hear wrong,” Jonnor said, eyebrows snapping together. “Why do you listen to gossip, Garrett? I have Norre well in hand. If you want gossip, there are more rumours of dragons near the islands. People think it’s only a matter of time before they find their way to the coast.”

  “No point worrying about what may never happen. Especially if it involves dragons. If they want to eat us all, there’s not much we can do about it.”

  “Well, that’s where you’re wrong,” Jonnor said smugly. “This whole building is dragon-proof. Stone exterior, metal shutters to cover all the windows, and essential supplies in the basement, in case we get trapped here. The dragons will get bored and fly away long before we run out of food.”

  Garrett laughed. “And water? Where does that come from?” Jonnor’s lips compressed into a puzzled line. “Don’t tell me your only water source is the well in the yard at the back?” He shook his head, amused. “First rule of siege warfare – secure your water supply. Then food, then defensive strategies.”

  “And what wouldyou know about siege strategy?” Jonnor sneered. “You can barely read and write.”

  “No, but Kestimar can, and he’s had a proper education, too. He understands all this stuff. Believe it or not, there was a time when he looked kindly on me, and let me pester him with questions. He taught me everything I know about sword-work and battle tactics and warfare. Used to talk for hours, and had the whole canteen mesmerised. He was always bitter and angry, but he had flashes of friendlier behaviour, too. Then Tella showed up and he settled for bitter and angry on a permanent basis. Gods, he was angry! Things got difficult after that. But he’s got a sharp mind, and you’d better not forget it.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do!”

  “Ack, Jonnor, don’t get uppity. We’re all on the same side, aren’t we? You, me, Tella, Kestimar…”

  “So who’s on the other side?”

  Garrett folded his arms. It was an interesting question, with many possible answers. “Everyone,” he said eventually. “Everyone who isn’t us is on the other side.”

  “That’s a very pessimistic view of life,” Jonnor said.

  “True. But it’s kept me alive all these years, so I’m sticking to it, if it’s all the same to you.”

  3: The Midwinter Moon Inn (Ruell)

  Ruell bounced into the room, his grin stretching right across his face, he was sure. He spotted Garrett in the far corner, already eating, and waved expansively. Weaving through the tables, he yelled his news from half way across the room.

  “There’s a school starting up! And they’ll have a library! And anyone can go there, and read their books. Isn’t that amazing?”

  Garrett just laughed. He always laughed at his enthusiasm, and Ruell found it annoying.

  Pulling out a chair, Garrett said, “Sit, get some food and ale inside you, then tell me all about it.”

  A server materialised beside their table for Ruell’s order. “Oh – a tall one, please, and a bowl of… whatever he’s having.”

  Nodding, the man headed off to the kitchen. TheMidwinter Moon Innhad changed in the last few years. Garrett had told him that when he’d first found the place, it had been half brothel and half rowdy field-workers’ ale house, with a few cheap rooms to let upstairs. Now there were curtains at the windows and rugs on the floor, a stylish dining room with an even more stylish cook, an
d the field-workers had moved on to somewhere cheaper. The girls were still there, though, but lodged in a discreet upstairs room now.

  Ruell’s ale came almost at once. He took one sip, then grinned at Garrett. “A library! You know what that means?” He drummed his fingers on the table in excitement.

  “A lot of books?” Garrett hazarded.

  Ruell snorted with laughter. “Of course, but there will be dragon books, bound to be. Finally, I might learn something.”

  “You must have learnt a lot already, with all those books you have back on the island.”

  “Only seventeen. Well, eighteen, now. Yammar found me a new one, with pictures. But eighteen’s not much.” He leaned forward, as if his inner fire might melt even Garrett’s cynicism if he were close enough. “Aproper library will have hundreds of books. Thousands, maybe. Can you imagine anything more wonderful?”

  “But they won’t all be about dragons, will they?” he said. “Yammar’s shop has lots of books, but he rarely has any about dragons.”

  Garrett was such a misery, sometimes. Always looking on the gloomy side. Plodding through life, never standing up to Kestimar, neverdoing anything. But he was kind enough, in his way, so Ruell tried to suppress his irritation.

  “True, but there are bound to be some, and they said I can go there whenever I want, and borrow any books that interest me.” He picked up his tankard, but his arms were waving about so much that quite a bit of ale sloshed over the sides.

  “They?” was all the response Garrett made.

  “Darro and Famri. They’re in charge of the school. They open officially next moon, but I can go and help them sort the books if I want.”

  “Darro… Famri… What sort of people are they?” Garrett said.

  Gods, this kind of suspicious questioning was tedious, but Ruell took a deep breath and tried to speak calmly. “Nice people! They’ve been approved by the kylerand, so it’s all proper and legal and everything.”

  Ruell’s stew arrived just then. For a while the two ate in silence, and Ruell’s bad temper evaporated somewhat.

  “Where is this school?” Garrett said, eventually, reaching for the bread to mop up his gravy.

  “The old corn exchange, at the fork.”

  “I know it.” Garrett took a bite of bread, chewing thoughtfully. “Maybe I’ll go and see them tomorrow.

  Ruell threw down his spoon. “Oh, are you protecting me again? You think I can’t go anywhere without your approval? I’m old enough to make my own way, you know.”

  “I know. But your own way… worries me, sometimes. You’re twenty years old, Ruell, but have you ever been with a woman? Or a man, if that’s how it takes you.” Ruell flushed bright red. “There are plenty of girls would be happy to keep you company if you wanted, but you take no interest in them. It’s all dragons, with you.”

  “I suppose you think I should be spending all my time with a sword in my hand, pounding the sand at the training court. Just because you do—”

  “No,” Garrett said quickly. “I don’t expect you to be a swordsman.”

  “Well, my father does!”

  Garrett had the tankard half way to his lips, but at this he set it down slowly. “Your father?”

  “Kestimar, of course.”

  “Did your mother tell you he was—?”

  “No, but who else could it be? I know it’s not official – no papers or anything – but they’re as good as married, aren’t they? And that means he must be my father, doesn’t it?”

  Garrett took a long draught of ale, then set the tankard down. “Does it matter who your father is?”

  Ruell rolled his eyes. “Are you insane? Ofcourse it matters! How could it not matter? It’s about who I am, what sort of person I am.”

  “Kestimar’s not a very admirable person, Ruell.”

  “You’ve never seen any good in him, have you? Of course he’s bitter, losing the use of his legs like that. Anyone would be. But he’s a great man underneath that grouchy exterior.”

  “A great man?” Garrett said mildly. His lips quirked as if he was trying not to laugh.

  “Oh, you’ll never admit it, of course. I know you hate him, so you’ll never see any good in him, but he was very important back on the Karningplain, and that’s why he’s in charge now. I daresay you never knew him then, before he met my mother, so you don’t understand. Maybe you’re just jealous.”

  Garrett slammed his tankard down on the table, and folded his arms, his face angry. A spasm of fear ripped through Ruell’s gut. Had he gone too far? He’d suspected Garrett envied Kestimar for years, but he’d never said so, and who knew how Garrett would react? There was a violent streak in him that meant no one crossed him without consequences. But common sense reasserted itself. This was Garrett, after all. He might be a grumpy old mule at times, but he would never hurt Ruell, never. And as he watched, Garrett mastered his emotion and when he spoke again, his tone was even.

  “Tell me about the book Yammar found for you.”

  Ruell was instantly alight with happiness. “It’s wonderful! Look.” He fished in his bag, and produced a book with painted wooden boards for a cover. “It’s strange, because the pages just unfold, see? You can turn them in the regular way, or you can just spread them all out.” He slid down the table to the dry part and opened the pages out into one long strip.

  “Pictures!” Garrett said, shifting his chair to see better. “These are beautiful. Look at the detail on those wings! Gorgeous.”

  “They are, aren’t they?” Ruell said. This was better! His book even brought a genuine reaction from Garrett. “I’ve got some better pictures in one of the books on the island, though. These are a bit too small to show all the ridges properly.”

  “That’s a peculiar picture,” Garrett said. “What are those two doing – fighting?”

  “No – mating!” Ruell said, with a laugh.

  “Dragons mate in mid-air,” Garrett said. “Everyone knows that.”

  “No, that’s not mating, that’s just the dance. Like a courtship. They mate on the ground.”

  “Really? Does it say that in one of your books?”

  “No, I—” He stopped, and flushed. “Look, I just know, all right?”

  “Have you seen dragons mating? Because I’d be worried if I thought you’d been that close to one.”

  Ruell hesitated. A part of him yearned to tell Garrett everything, to explain it all just so that someone else would know. Being the only one to know the secret was such a heavy burden. If only he could share it with just one person, to be able to say,‘But what does it mean? And why? Why does this happen to me? Why am I not normal?’ But Garrett had always scoffed at his dreams.

  In the end, he shook his head. “No, I’ve never seen them.”

  Garrett’s gaze was unwavering and in the end it was Ruell who looked away, uncomfortable.

  “You finished eating?” Garrett said. “I’ll get these through to the scullery.”

  But as soon as he stood up, one of the servers appeared to whisk away the used plates and wipe the table clean. Garrett grunted. Ruell knew he hated being waited on.

  “Well, that’s it, then. Meat’s over for another evening.”

  “Are you going upstairs tonight?” Ruell said, gathering up his book.

  “I might. You want to come with me?”

  Ruell flushed and hung his head, embarrassed. “Don’t think so.”

  “Why not? You’re old enough – have been for a while, to tell truth.”

  “I don’t know… I’d rather read.”

  Garrett sat down again, pulling his chair nearer to the table. “Ruell… tell me honestly, don’t you want to? Because I know when I was your age, it was all I thought about. I couldn’t afford brothels then, so I spent all my free time trying to persuade women – any women – to lie down for me. Or stand up or whatever they wanted, so long as they’d lift their skirts. Most men I knew were the same. There wasn’t much good in that stupid war I was dragged into, but
at least there were women, and no payment or persuasion needed either. That part of it was wonderful. But you don’t seem interested in women at all. If you’re not – if you’rereally not interested, then I’ll leave you be, but if you’re just a bit nervous or you’re not sure how it goes, well, this is the best way to get past that. What do you say, eh?”

  Ruell hung his head. It was so tempting to just take his book back to his room and bury himself in words and images anddragons. So much easier. You knew where you were with a dragon. But he yearned to go with Garrett, to choose a woman, to plant himself inside her and do what men did. Whatnormal men did. And surely it wouldn’t happen again, would it?

  “I… I wouldn’t mind,” he said, his voice not much above a whisper. “Iwould like to, but…”

  “But…?”

  “Something happened… about three years ago…”

  “Ah,” Garrett leaned back in his chair. “So… you tried it and… I’m guessing that something went wrong, was that it?”

  Ruell nodded once.

  “Would it surprise you to know that things go wrong quite often?”

  “Really?” He looked up in surprise and sudden hope.

  “Oh yes. It’s not just you. Things happen… or don’t happen, sometimes. Or they happen too quickly or not quickly enough. We’re all human, Ruell, and when you put two humans together there’s no knowing quite how things will go. But the women here are very nice, so they’ll make it all easy for you, if you want to try it. Just tell them you’re new to the business and they’ll show you exactly how to… um, get the most out of it, shall we say.”

  Ruell gave a bark of laughter. “All right. I’d like that. Thank you.”

  So they finished their ale and went companionably out into the passageway that ran the length of the building, past the fancy new dining room with its rush of servers to and fro, past the mingled aromas and clatter of pans in the kitchen, past the entrance and the main stair, to a discreet archway half hidden by a curtain. Beyond it was a narrow, uncarpeted stair tended by a bored guard who smiled at Garrett and nodded them past. Up the stairs, boots thumping on the treads almost as hard as Ruell’s heart was pounding. Finally! He would be a real man at last, and there was nothing to be afraid of, not here, not this time. It would be all right, this time.