The Dragon Caller (Brightmoon Book 9)

by Pauline M. Ross

  He said timidly, “Garrett, I don’t mind talking to Famri. That can’t hurt, can it?”

  Garrett spun round, looking at him in surprise, almost as if he’d forgotten Ruell was there. “I suppose not.” The sword slid smoothly back into its sheath, but he didn’t fasten the clasp.

  “But not in my kitchen,” Zamannah said quickly. “We need to see to the roast, and start cooking the fish. The taproom is still quiet…”

  “Of course,” Famri said, swirling on one heel and striding through the door.

  Garrett tapped the hilt of his sword and winked at Zamannah. “Don’t worry, I’ll get all the blood scrubbed off the floorboards before your evening customers arrive.”

  “Go on with you,” Zamannah said with a weak smile, flapping his hands at them. “I have a supper to prepare.”

  The taproom was almost empty, with just a small cluster of bones players in one corner. Famri had taken herself to the other end of the long room and was sitting composedly at the bench behind one of the larger tables. She smiled and gestured for Ruell to sit opposite her. He looked questioningly at Garrett, but he nodded, so Ruell sat, although perched awkwardly on the edge of the chair. Garrett stood to one side, his sword hand flexing. Jonnor seated himself at the head of the table with the wine glass he’d remembered to bring. His flamboyant clothes and the rich fabrics Famri wore looked very out of place in the taproom with its worn and stained furnishings, and the overpowering smell of stale beer and cheap lamp oil.

  “Now then, Ruell,” Famri said, with a kindly smile, “we must talk about your future. However difficult things are, you must begin to make plans, do you not agree?”

  He glanced at Garrett but he was impassive, so Ruell nodded.

  “Good. It seems that you cannot return to your little island, so you will need to make your home here. I should be happy to offer you a home with us, at the library… Garrett? What is it?”

  Garrett had made a strangled sound, but he said nothing. Ruell looked at him for clarification, but when he still would not speak, Ruell said, “We’re going to Mesanthia.”

  “Mesanthia?” She laughed lightly. “Oh, really? And what will you do there, pray?”

  “Find out about dragons,” Ruell said.

  She laughed again, and it was not a pleasant laugh, of a friend sharing a joke. It was more the superiority of an adult amused by the foolish misunderstandings of a child. Ruell felt humiliated, and yet he couldn’t say why.

  “You know, Ruell,” she said, and there was a hardness about her face that chilled him, “there are other places in the world with knowledge, other ways to find out what you want to know. The homeland has knowledge that pre-dates the Catastrophe.”

  “You said you didn’t want to take him to the homeland.” Garrett’s voice sounded harsh, and his hand rested on the hilt of his sword.

  “Nor do I,” she said sharply. “Were you not listening? He can stay here, at the library. I can send for whatever books and materials he requires.”

  “I can’t stay here!” Ruell blurted out. “If the dragons come looking for me, the Bay will be burnt to the ground, too. I can’t risk that, so I have to go. Garrett’s going to take me to Mesanthia.”

  “It’s a very long way to Mesanthia,” she said thoughtfully. “Somewhere nearer, perhaps…”

  “We have a fast ship,” Ruell said, and then wondered if he shouldn’t have mentioned it. But neither Garrett nor Jonnor gave any sign of annoyance. Garrett stood as still as a statue, and just as impassive, while Jonnor leaned languidly back in his chair and sipped his wine, although he was listening intently.

  “A fast ship?” Famri said. “TheSundancer, I presume? There are those who would question your right to it.” Ruell must have shown his dismay, for she gave a brittle laugh. “That ship belongs to Lord Norre.”

  Jonnor gave a half smile. “Not so.MasterNorre has not yet paid in full. Until he does so, and the title transfer papers are drawn up, theSundancer belongs to Amontis, and who has a better claim on it than Ruell dos Amontis, the son and heir of Tella di l’Amontis?”

  Ruell said nothing, although he’d never heard himself called by that name before.

  “ButLord Norre has paid a large deposit to secure that ship! You cannot just give it away!”

  “Did you not hear me? It is already Ruell’s ship,” Jonnor said calmly. “He may do with it as he pleases.”

  “The law may disagree with you.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Then you had best prepare yourself for a visit to the House of Justice,” she said. “I imagine that once Lord Norre hears of your plans, he will initiate the legal process to prevent your departure.”

  “Perhaps he may not hear of it before the ship sails,” Jonnor said, with a wider smile.

  “I shall ensure that he does!”

  And Jonnor actually laughed. “You are very sure of yourself, Mistress Famri, but you are a stranger here and consequently know nothing of our ways. Here is the legal position. Master Norre paid a deposit to secure a ship, built by Amontis, of a certain size and specifications, to be supplied at a certain date, with some latitude allowed for unforeseen circumstances. That is what the documents say, the perfectly legal and fair documents drawn up by Amontis lawyers, overseen by Norre lawyers, and signed by Master Norre and myself, with all the proper witnesses and seals and taxes paid. Nowhere is it specified which ship is to be supplied. A ship, that is the only commitment. Not theSundancer, merely a ship.”

  She glowered at him, biting her lip.

  He continued relentlessly, “Even if that ship were entirely the property of Master Norre, Ruell could still take it, quite legally.”

  “Nonsense,” she said, but there was no force behind it.

  “Under the Emergency Practices Law of the Sea, of the year 517, anyone may commandeer a vessel at any time, if in fear for their lives from hostile pursuing forces. I think dragons qualify as hostile forces, don’t you? And even if there were no dragons involved, and Ruell simply felt like going for a sail, there is no offence committed until the ship is under sail and beyond the limits of coastal authority, which is deemed here to be three times the distance of the harbour wall at high tide. At that point, the ship’s owner may make a complaint to the House of Justice.”

  “You think you are very clever, I suppose.”

  “Not clever, no, but I know the law in these parts better than you do. I also know everything that goes on in this town, and along the coast. Which is how I know that Norre has also paid a deposit to Shipbuilder Lethryan for a similar ship. Since he only wants one, I don’t suppose he’ll mind if the other one is used elsewhere, do you? Which is why Ruell will be leaving for Mesanthia on theSundancer as soon as it’s ready to sail.”

  For a moment she was silent, and Ruell could almost see her mind working. “Well, if you are set on Mesanthia, Ruell, I can be of service to you. I know people there who can help you.”

  “Garrett knows people, too. He’s been to Mesanthia before.”

  “I daresay.” Another titter. “But I knowimportant people, who will open doors for you. People who can introduce you to all the wisdom of history, people who will treat you with respect and dignity.”

  Ruell licked his lips, wondering why Garrett didn’t speak. But even though he was silent, his face had relaxed into something approaching a smile, so Ruell felt comfortable in saying, “Garrett knows important people, too.”

  She reached across the table and grabbed Ruell’s wrist in a firm grip, her eyes glittering. “Let us not play games, Ruell.Myfriends in Mesanthia far outrank any lowlife scum that Garrett may have encountered.”

  “Don’t think so,” Ruell murmured. And then, because he could see the mischief in Garrett’s eyes and understood the joke, he added, “And I don’t think the Keeper’s Protectors would like you calling them lowlife scum. I mean, it’s a bit rude, isn’t it?”

  “TheProtectors?” She tittered. “Is that what he told you? What a barefaced lie!”

>   Ruell stood up, his chair scraping so loudly that the chattering bones players suddenly fell silent, and turned to stare. “That’s enough!” Ruell said, his voice blaring into the sudden silence. “I won’t have you insulting Garrett, who’s never harmed me and never told me any lies. Unlikeyou, Famri. You’re not welcome here. You’d best leave or I’ll get Garrett to throw you out. Or maybe he’ll spit you on his sword. Can’t say I’d blame him.”

  For a heartbeat… two… three… she glared at him, unmoving. Then, without a word, she rose and walked steadily to the door, head high.

  As soon as the door closed behind her, Ruell’s confidence deflated like a puffball, and he collapsed into a chair.

  Jonnor slid his half-empty glass down the table to him. “Splendid, young man! You have balls after all.”

  “So do you, my friend,” Garrett said. “That was nicely done.”

  Jonnor grinned and held up his hands deprecatingly. “I know everyone thinks I’m a useless popinjay, but sometimes if people believe you’re a fool they relax their guard and tell you things. And by the Nine, I hate the Tre’annatha! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a ship to organise. Be down at the harbour at noon, and we’ll have you aboard and on your way to Mesanthia before a dragon can flap its wings.” He winked at them as he headed for the door.

  “Best not to joke about dragons,” Garrett muttered, finally fastening the clasp on his sword, and sitting down on the bench vacated by Famri. Scooping up Jonnor’s discarded wine glass, he downed the contents in one mouthful. “Well, that went better than expected. Jonnor the hero – who’d have suspected? Not me.”

  “Is that true, all that stuff about the law? And Master Norre ordering two ships?”

  “No idea,” Garrett said cheerfully. “Sounded good, though, didn’t it? I see now why Tella put Jonnor in charge here. He’s good with words, and he has a certain air about him that these wealthy folk respond to.”

  “His accent changed, too,” Ruell said. “But I suppose if he was really married to Mother, he must have been something quite high-powered in the Karningplain, too.”

  “A Karningholder, yes. One of the ruling class there, although I’d never, ever have guessed it of him. He was a raging mass of bile and unrestrained temper when I first knew him. I thought he must have been a shopkeeper or maybe a junior clerk. Or a Skirmisher –he was handy enough with a sword, and properly taught, unlike me. I wonder what his family name was?”

  “Is that how it works there – a family name? So that’s why he called me Ruell dos Amontis.”

  “I suppose so,” Garrett said, frowning. “Not sure how it works with their kind. I’d have thought a son’s name should come from the father, myself.”

  “What’s your family name?” Ruell said shyly.

  “Never had one. I was brought up in the temple orphanage, where I just had a number – forty-eight seventeen eighty-three. I ran away as soon as I’d learnt how to pick pockets.”

  “So where did the name Garrett come from?”

  He hesitated, then gave the slightest of shrugs. “First time in prison. I had an empty purse on me, one I’d stolen some time before. It had the name Garrett stitched inside it, so the guards wrote that in the book. Thought I might as well keep it.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Not sure. Seven, I think.”

  Ruell stared at him, his heart aching for child-Garrett. He’d never guessed his early life was quite so bleak. Garrett was rough-hewn, and far too liable to turn to violence, and Ruell would never quite forgive him for murdering the egg-child, but then he’d never been taught any better. Ruell couldn’t find any words, so he went round the table and slid along the bench to Garrett, wrapping him in a tight hug.

  “Yes, yes, but that’ll do,” Garrett said gruffly. “Don’t feel sorry for me, Ruell. I’ve done all right, everything considered. Look, there’s a while yet till supper, and you’ve had a rough night. Why don’t you go and catch up on your sleep? I’ll bring a tray up for you later.”

  Ruell nodded. Hewas tired, it was true. His little room was even hotter now, airless in the afternoon heat. He pushed the shutter open as far as it would go, and threw himself down on the bed. Exhaustion overwhelmed him and he dropped into a restless doze, the laughter of customers and the clatter of pans in the kitchen bringing him halfway to wakefulness again and again.

  But then he woke more abruptly to full alertness. A different sound, softer but close at hand. He lay still, straining his ears to catch it. There! A soft squawk, like a bird, then an odd sort of skittering sound.

  “Ruell? Found you!”

  Then he was hit by a wave of happiness that made him burst out laughing. He rolled over and opened his eyes. Perched on the window sill looking in at him, practically bouncing with excitement, was a tiny green and brown dragon.

  18: High Rock (Garrett)

  Garrett almost dropped the tray. When he’d knocked on the door, Ruell had answered with a chirpy “Come in!” as if he hadn’t a care in the world. And when Garrett had unlatched the door and backed into the room carefully, trying not to spill the tankards of ale, the first thing to meet his gaze was Ruell sitting on the bed with a beatific expression on his face.

  And a dragonet in his hands.

  “Shit, Ruell! Where did that thing come from?”

  “From the island, of course. Where else?”

  Hands shaking, Garrett set the tray down on the floor. At once the dragon gave a squawk that even Garrett could understand, hopped down to the floor and dived his head into the stew. It withdrew at once, with a much louder, more agitated squawk.

  Ruell laughed. “It’s hot, you silly dragon! Wait until it cools down.”

  Garrett deftly retrieved the two tankards and passed one to Ruell. “I hope it hasn’t got a taste for beer, or I’ll have to wring its scrawny neck. Itmustbe one of yours from the island, mustn’t it? I mean, there can’t be more than one batch of newly hatched dragons, can there? But… what thefuck is it doing here?”

  “He was looking for me. Yannali has a particular—”

  “Yannali? Why do you call it that?”

  Ruell looked at him, puzzled. “That’s his name. They all have names, Garrett. Anyway, Yannali has a particular affinity for me. He’s been following me. He was very happy to find me.”

  “I daresay, but…”

  The dragon gingerly stabbed at the stew, eventually managing to pull out a piece of meat, which it dragged onto the floor and began to eat with relish.

  Ruell laughed. “He’s hungry. Look at him gobble it down!”

  “It can’t stay here,” Garrett said, in gentler tones.

  “No, I suppose not, although… I’ve no idea how to get rid of him.”

  Having fished all the lumps of meat out of the stew, the dragon began on the chicken wings. Ruell hastily snatched up the bread, and began to break off lumps to chew.

  “How am I supposed to persuade him to go away?” he mumbled through a mouthful of bread.

  “Can’t you… I don’t know, maybe just tell him? You can talk to him mentally, can’t you?”

  “Yes, but…” Ruell looked bewildered.

  “Then explain. You’re going far away, where he can’t follow. He has to stay on the island where the adults will find him and take him off to lead a blameless dragon life in some rocky outpost of the continent. Tell him that.”

  But the dragon looked at Ruell with such sorrow in his expressive eyes that even Garrett felt its pain.

  “I’m not sure I can convince him,” Ruell whispered.

  “Try. Keep trying until you succeed. Better for him if he goes back to his own kind, and far, far better for us. Do you want any more supper?”

  Ruell shook his head, retrieving an apple from the tray before the dragon could eat that, too.

  “At least keep the thing out of sight,” Garrett said. “I’m going back to the taproom for some human company.”

  When Garrett checked later, Ruell was fast asleep on the be
d and the dragon was nowhere to be seen. Garrett checked under the bed, just to be sure, but finding no dragon lurking he felt it was safe to curl up in a blanket on the floor and snatch some sleep.

  ~~~~~

  When morning came, Garrett was relieved to see there was still no sign of the dragon.

  He shook Ruell awake. “Time to go. We have a ship awaiting us.”

  Ruell grunted, rolled over, grunted again, and opened one eye. “Already?”

  “’Fraid so. You got rid of your little friend, then?”

  With a nod, Ruell said, “I told him what you said, about living with his own kind, and after a while he flew away.” But his voice was heavy.

  “It’s too soon,” Garrett said, resting a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “In a year or two, when we’ve sorted out how this dragon caller business works, we’ll come back and you can have all the dragon friends you want. But until then, until you can be sure of controlling them, it’s better this way. Besides, I think a baby dragon is better off with other dragons rather than humans, don’t you?”

  That brought another nod.

  “Good. Let’s go, then.”

  They had few possessions, apart from the clothes on their backs, Garrett’s weapons and the bag containing his magic glass ball, so preparing to leave took no time at all. Zamannah was there to see them off, hugging each of them tightly.

  “Be careful, friends,” he said.

  Garrett laughed. “We’ve already survived dragon fire. I think we’ll be fine.”

  But Zamannah was unsmiling. “But you have made an enemy here.”

  “Famri? Not sure what she can do to us, frankly. She got to Ruell once, but I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen again. I know she’s Tre’annatha but—”

  “Exactly. Never trust a Tre’annatha. And they are everywhere, friend, in every town along the northern coast, and spreading all the time. You seldom see them, because they live in their underground nests like the rats that they are, but there are multitudes of them, all the same.”

  “They’re not violent, as a rule, though,” Garrett said. “What Famri did was unusual. They work through manipulation and cracks in the law. And some of them are good people.”