The Dragon Caller (Brightmoon Book 9)

by Pauline M. Ross

  Mikah glared at him, and Garrett could see him debating whether to assert his authority with a slap-down, or to let it go. Eventually, he shrugged, and turned to his troop. “Right, you four, the roots cellar. You lot take the cheese cellar. The rest of you, with me to the harbour. Let’s see if we have any ships left.”

  That was a possibility that hadn’t occurred to Garrett, and for a moment his heart ran cold. What if the dragons had torched the ships as well? They couldn’t swim across the strait, and it could take them days to build a raft. It might not even be possible, if every piece of wood had burned. Then what would they do?

  But a quick jog out of the palace relieved him of any anxiety on that score – the two ships and three fishing boats still bobbed at the wharf, undamaged. And as soon as he was thinking clearly again, he remembered the little cove on the north side of the island where the boatmen kept a couple of small boats under a bush ready for shellfish diving, so there would have been a way off the island, and he wouldn’t have to resort to his glass ball and reveal its magic to the world.

  He was fiercely protective of his magic. Just like his ability to see through other eyes, he’d kept it hidden away, using it seldom and only when it wouldn’t be detected. Except for Tella, and perhaps that had been a mistake, because people had wondered at her glowing beauty and looked at him suspiciously. Yes, that had been a mistake. The less the world knew of a man’s secrets, the safer he was.

  And his greatest secret, the one he must never, ever tell, was one that would bring such destruction as would destroy the world. Even now, he shuddered to think how close he had come to watching it happen. So as the ships were made ready and the little band of survivors – no more than half the islands’ residents – filed down the hill to the wharf and onto the ships, and they sailed away from the Windblown Isle, perhaps for ever, his mind was elsewhere, remembering. He remembered another egg child, all grown up and looking at him with such love in her eyes.

  He’d killed her, too, and he knew he’d kill every one of the monsters, if need be.

  16: A Fast Ship (Ruell)

  Zamannah wasn’t surprised to see them.

  “We saw the flames, even from here, and the watchers said they saw dragons flying around. They seem to have gone, though.”

  “For now,” Garrett said. “They’ll come back, apparently. All Ruell’s eggs hatched in the flames, so there are thirty-four… thirty-three baby dragons on the island at the moment.”

  “Great stars above!” Zamannah said. “Will they come here?”

  Garrett shrugged. “Let’s hope not.”

  He didn’t look at Ruell, or seem to expect him to answer the question, which was just as well. Ruell didn’t think he could string two words together, still less make a coherent contribution to the discussion. He was exhausted, he ached all over from lying on the hard cellar floor, and his head was full of images too horrible to think about. Yet he couldn’t forget them. Maajhasha’s nose breaking through the window. Flames lapping round him in a golden cloud. Mother and Kestimar there one moment, the next nothing but ash.

  And Garrett – Garrett, the man he’d trusted all his life, murdering that poor child with icy disdain. He knew Garrett was a violent man, and not the greatest respecter of law or morality, but he’d imagined that he had at leastsomescruples. Well, he was wrong about that. The man was bad to the core.

  And yet… he was still Garrett, still his father, still the man he would trust with his own life. Maybe he had some reason for what he’d done? It was very difficult.

  So Ruell hung his head and let them talk, Garrett telling Zamannah everything that had happened, and then arranging accommodation, discussing ships and routes and money and a great many other things he didn’t care about at all just then.

  “Ruell?” Garrett’s voice was gentler than usual. “Do you want to go and catch up with your sleep? I have a few things to do, but Zamannah will look after you.”

  Ruell gave a quick nod, then turned and walked away without a word.

  “Same room as before,” Zamannah called after him.

  He gave a wave of acknowledgement, and plodded up the stairs to his tiny room. It was hot and stuffy, so he pushed open the shutter, then threw himself down on the bed, fully clothed. He expected to fall asleep instantly, but his mind was too busy for sleep. He shifted restlessly this way and that, but no position was more conducive to sleep than any other, and now his empty belly was protesting the long gap between meals.

  Eventually, he went in search of the kitchen where some honey bread, still warm from the oven, resolved one of his problems. But there was nothing to be done about the memories haunting him. He settled down to chop beans and shell peas for the noon soup.

  When Zamannah came in, he looked at the bowls full of vegetables and said, “That should be enough, Ruell. Yes, tip them all in the pot. Excellent! Thank you for your help.”

  “Anything else you’d like me to do?”

  “Not just now. The taproom is swept and tidy, my morning regulars have tankards in their hands, and the soup is cooking. Later, when we get busy, I shall be glad of your assistance, but for now, perhaps you might like to have an ale yourself?”

  Ruell shook his head.

  “Do you want to talk about anything?”

  Another shake of the head.

  “Of course, but remember that—”

  The door flew open and Jonnor burst in, his clothes more than usually bizarre – a blue silk coat, a lace-trimmed shirt and a bright red hat sporting several feathers. “Ruell! Thank the Nine! I’ve been looking all over the place for you. The whole town is seething with rumours. People are even saying the palace has burnt to the ground, but I’m sure it can’t be as bad as all that. Here you are, after all and perfectly all right.”

  He patted Ruell genially on one arm and laughed, quite relaxed, and suddenly the man’s ostentatious silk coat and feathered hat were too much for Ruell’s self-control.

  “Not as bad as all that?” He snapped. “It’s far, far worse. Everything is gone – everything! The palace is a burnt-out shell, my dragons are on the loose and Mother and Kestimar are dead. How much worse could it be?” Zamannah put a plump, white hand on his arm with a hushing noise of distress, but Ruell shook him off angrily. “Don’t try to shut me up, not when he comes in here looking like he’s going to some fancy ball and trying to make light of it. It’s fine for him, he’s still got his home, and thosestupidfeathers in his hat!I’mthe one who’s lost everything I cared about. I’mnot all right! I’ll never be all right again!”

  To Ruell’s astonishment, Jonnor’s shocked face crumpled in anguish. He buried his face in his hands and wept.

  Ruell looked anxiously at Zamannah, who whispered, “He was very fond of Tella.”

  “Fondof her!” Jonnor’s head shot up, eyes two slits of anger despite the tears on his cheeks. “I was more thanfondof her. Iloved her, as no one else did. No one!” The anger melted back to tearful grief again. “No one ever loved her the way I did, following her everywhere she went, even when it seemed there was no hope. But I never gave up trying, not as long as there was blood flowing in my veins. There was always a chance, you see. I always thought that one day she’d realise what she’d thrown away and come back to me.”

  “You and Mother?” Ruell’s eyes widened in astonishment. “You were her lover once?”

  “No.” His chin lifted with quiet dignity. “I am – Iwas her husband.”

  ~~~~~

  Garrett returned to the tavern late in the afternoon, very hot and cross. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Jonnor, and here you are sitting around drinking wine and… Oh Gods, I’m sorry. Of course you’re upset. I’m so sorry. Where did the wine come from? Because I wouldn’t mind some myself.”

  Ruell took a glass down into the cellar, and filled it from the wine barrel. When he went back upstairs to the kitchen, Jonnor was crying again, and Garrett was sitting beside him, an arm around the other man’s shoulders.


  He reached for the wine with relief. “I had no idea,” he said, helplessly. “Yet it explains a lot.”

  “She was always restless,” Jonnor said tearfully. “Even when we were first married.”

  “How long were you together?” Garrett asked.

  “Ten years. We had three children… that is to say, she had them, I don’t think I could honestly lay claim to any one of them. Certainly not the youngest.”

  “Where are they now?” Zamannah said, stirring batter briskly in a bowl, while his cook prepared fish at the other end of the table.

  “The two eldest were left behind in the Karningplain when the rebellion happened, so I’ve no idea what became of them. The youngest was left behind on the southern coast when everything there fell apart. She’s with her father so she’s probably fine. And then there’s him.” He jerked his head towards Ruell. “He’s fine. He brings dragon fire down on us all and destroys everything, but he walks out of it without even a light singeing. Naturally, nothing hurts him.”

  “That’s unfair,” Garrett said, withdrawing his arm abruptly. “This isnot Ruell’s fault.”

  “Well, it isn’t anyone else’s fault, either,” Jonnor sneered. “Who else could have brought the dragons to the island? And I suppose we’ll get them here, next.”

  That was something that was worrying Ruell. Even though the dragons were far away now, he was still conscious of them in his mind, and that meant that they were conscious of him, too. They could decide to seek him out again at any time.

  “It’s all right,” he said quietly. “I’m going away, far enough that the dragons can’t find me.” Unexpectedly he felt tears pricking his eyelids. It was hard, being a dragon caller, or whatever he was.

  “Where will you go?” Jonnor said, his tone softer. “Is there anywhere safe from dragons?”

  Ruell was still fighting his tears, so it was Garrett who answered. “We’re going to Mesanthia, just as soon as I can organise a ship, and that’s why I was looking for you this afternoon, Jonnor. We need one of the Amontis ships. Speed is essential, and they’re the fastest things on the water.”

  “Even the fastest ship can’t outrun a dragon,” Jonnor said.

  “No, but if we can get moving quickly, we can get beyond their reach,” Garrett said. “Will you release one of the ships to us?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” Jonnor snapped. “Have you any idea what those ships are worth? It’s my responsibility to keep the Amontis businesses running now, and—”

  “Whatever for?” Garrett said.

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Why keep them running now that Tella and Kestimar have gone?”

  “Because it’s all that’s left of hers!” Jonnor cried. “I have to keep them going, in her memory.”

  Garrett said nothing, but Zamannah’s spoon stilled and even the cook paused, his knife suspended in the air. And very slowly realisation dawned on Jonnor. His eyes flicked to Ruell, then back to Garrett and finally to Ruell again, where they lingered.

  “I suppose I owe something to her son, too,” he said quietly. “He was special, she said, her magical dragon baby, that was how she described him. They did something to her, you know, when she was sent away from the Karningplain. Poisoned her, and made it impossible for her to have any more children. So they said, and so it seemed. For years there were no children, but then, that winter in the dragon cave…” He glared at Garrett. “And don’t think it wasyour superior seed that did the trick, because it wasn’t.”

  “No, I imagine it was the magic left in the dragon cave,” Garrett said.

  “Probably. Whatever it was, she was pleased about it, and she enjoyed him more than her other children. She was always so maternal with him, so protective. She’d want me to take care of him now that she can’t. So you’ll have your ship, Garrett, if you can get together a crew for it.”

  “That’s no problem. I’ve got volunteers already. A lot of people have been displaced by the palace burning, or lost friends or kin. They want to get away from here.”

  “Fine. You can have theSundancer and I’ll deal with Norre.”

  “Thank you, Jonnor,” Ruell said, his voice still tremulous. “You’re very kind to me after…” The rest of the sentence was left dangling, although there were many ways it could have been completed.After I brought the wrath of the dragons down on us all. After I got my home burned down. After I killed my mother.

  To his surprise, Jonnor smiled, and reached a lace-frilled hand to stroke his cheek. “You look like her, you know. The hair isn’t quite right, or the nose, but around the mouth and chin, and when you smile… Ah well.” He heaved a sigh. “I shall never forget her. She wasn’t a good wife to me, but I never wanted anything but her happiness. She was happy, I think, wasn’t she? It suited her, being a queen. She made a splendid queen.” Another deep sigh. “And I shall maintain the Amontis businesses, as a memorial to her.”

  Garrett’s voice cut across these sad thoughts like a woodsaw. “What about the ship, Jonnor? The sooner we can get away—”

  “Yes, yes, yes, I’ll arrange everything. It’s brightmoon, so I can have supplies ordered this evening and loaded first thing tomorrow. Then you can be off by noon, I should think.”

  “No sooner?” Garrett said. “I’d like to—”

  A door banged somewhere, and voices could be heard in the tap room, just a murmur at first and then louder. Footsteps pattered on the wooden floor and the kitchen door flew open. Framed in the doorway, Famri.

  Ruell’s stomach twisted painfully. That was all they needed, the Tre’annatha involved. She’d seemed like such a pleasant, friendly person at first, but she’d betrayed him, led him into a secluded spot where she and her cronies could hit him over the head and abduct him. And to what purpose? He still didn’t know. Yet there she stood, smiling as if nothing had ever happened.

  “Here you are!” Famri said, looking at Ruell. “You poor boy, what a dreadful experience for you! Such a nightmare, but clearly you are coping bravely, which is exactly as I should have expected of you. It is the greatest relief to find you safe. Is there anything I may do to aid you in your distress?”

  Before Ruell could say a word, Garrett moved smoothly in front of him, unclasping his sword. “I think not.”

  It was a tone that Ruell knew well, the implacable tone that brooked no opposition, but Famri perhaps didn’t recognise it. She gave a trill of laughter. “How sweet of you to defend him, Garrett, but there is no need, not with me.”

  “There’s every need, as you know perfectly well.”

  “Garrett, why do you—?”

  “Out! Now! And don’t come back!”

  He half drew the sword and even Famri couldn’t misread the signs. Still, she wasn’t afraid. “You are not going to run me through with that thing, Garrett, not in cold blood, here in Master Zamannah’s kitchen. Let us be adult, shall we? I should like to talk to Ruell about his situation and offer the hand of friendship, and it is discourteous of you to threaten me.”

  Zamannah unobtrusively picked up his bowl of batter and retreated to a corner. His cook watched, the fish-gutting knife held ready.

  “Not threatening,” Garrett said, sweeping the sword from its sheath and holding the point a handspan from Famri’s throat. “I’m telling you. If you don’t leave, right now, I’ll run you through where you stand, and don’t imagine I’m bluffing. I’ve had enough of you.”

  “Oh, Ruell,” Famri said, leaning sideways to talk round Garrett. He wasn’t a tall man, but he bore an imposing quantity of muscle, and to anyone else he would be intimidating enough to inspire instant compliance. Not to Famri however. “I do feel for you, Ruell, with no one but this barbarian to protect you. Did he tell you what he did to me?”

  “I didn’t touch you,” Garrett said, but the sword wavered slightly.

  Ignoring him, she went on, “He broke into the school and stole the books I had set aside to give you. Then, when I discovered him in the act, he threatened to
rape me, and kept me prisoner while he made good his escape.”

  “He didn’t, though, did he?” Ruell said. “Rape you, I mean. He says a lot of stuff, but he won’t do most of it. He’d never rape you.”

  “Of course not! He is all talk. I am not afraid of all this waving about of swords. He will not hurt me.”

  Ruell chewed his lip thoughtfully. “Not so sure about that. When he’s got a sword in his hand… he’s liable to do what he says. I’ve seen him kill without a second thought. Not sure I’d risk it, myself.”

  “He’s given you fair warning, too,” Jonnor said. “We’ve all witnessed that, haven’t we?” He turned to Zamannah and the cook who nodded reluctantly. “See? You’ve had enough notice of his intent to satisfy the law.”

  “The law!” she said, astonished. “The law would condone cold-blooded murder?”

  “Of course,” Jonnor said, eyebrows lifted in surprise. “You’ve entered his territory without invitation, he’s told you to leave and he’s advised you of the consequences if you stay, and the whole of it’s been heard and witnessed. Nothing to complain of in that.”

  “May the Spirit of us all protect me from such barbarians,” she said, raising her eyes to the ceiling. “In civilised parts of the world, murder is a serious offence, and a woman alone visiting a friend to offer aid and consolation in a time of sorrow would be made welcome, not greeted with unprovoked violence.”

  “How unfortunate for you that we are not in a civilised part of the world,” Jonnor said smoothly. “You have two choices, Mistress Famri. You can leave, and keep your life, or stay and lose it. Which is it to be?”

  17: Confrontation (Ruell)

  Ruell could see that Garrett was not inclined to back down, and he could hardly blame him. If it was true that Famri herself had arranged for Ruell to be hit on the head, Garrett was bound to be suspicious of her. But it didn’t look likely that she would simply turn around and go away, either, not until she’d at least talked to him. With two such stubborn people, things could only end badly. Unless…