The Dragon and Rose

by Gerhard Gehrke

  He had been waiting by one of the windows and looking outside as the last of the pink light vanished from the sky. Now he picked up the quarterstaff and glared as the nobles whispered to one another. He saw in their eyes a cautious delight. Here they were, facing the fel who had killed their boldest just weeks before. And here the brute was, unfettered, with a practice weapon, and ready and eager to fight.

  “Is this the same fel?” a blonde noblewoman asked. “He looks smaller.”

  “You’re just sober,” a woman in a fancy off-the-shoulder dress said. “Hey, champion? Lady Claudia says you’re going to put on more of a show this time. From what I saw of your last performance, you butchered your opponents after they were down and disarmed. Will we see better sportsmanship?”

  Digger studied their faces. “Care for a demonstration?”

  The gathered nobles laughed as if he were joking. But the guards had their hands on their sword hilts and remained tense.

  But Fancy Dress wasn’t finished. She pushed past the guards and laid a hand on Digger. He smelled roses on her skin and alcohol on her breath. This wasn’t her first glass of wine.

  “You made me some money on that last round,” she purred. “How about a repeat performance? Hmm. But it looks like you’ve taken a few blows lately. How are you feeling?”

  The closest guard was watching him intently but didn’t pull the woman away.

  “If you’re betting on me, then give me a heads-up about what’s coming tomorrow.”

  “That’s the spirit. But I haven’t heard a peep from Lady Claudia or anything about this new venue. It’s all been such a secret. Lady Claudia has assured us that we won’t be disappointed. I hear this theater is a bit rustic. Fine by me, I say. The catacombs have so much pomp and window dressing. What I want to see is a match where the winner truly earns it.”

  All he wanted was for her to stop touching him. But she squeezed a shoulder and ran a hand down his flank before patting his thigh and butt.

  She whispered into his ear. “My money’s on you again. I understand there’ll be two rounds. The preliminary will be short. Should be easy for you. Round two is where the surprises lay, and Claudia won’t tell me anything about that. But if I learn something, I’ll be back.”

  One of the men in an apricot-colored shirt with pointed collars cleared his throat. “Estrella, quit fondling the champion, eh? If he gets all hot and bothered, he’ll be too distracted to win anything.”

  “I’m sure he’ll have time to cool off before tomorrow. But you’re right. Come on, gang. Lady Claudia wants us up in the ballroom. Our champion needs his time to practice.”

  He watched them leave. While the crowd in the catacomb gallery had been mostly unseen by him, he held no doubts this group had been part of it. These were the queen’s inner circle, her court, the nobles who supported her and allowed her catacombs to be successful. He had no idea if the queen would even hold her bloody contests if it wasn’t for people like this.

  One of the guards remained at the door.

  “There’s food?” Digger asked.

  “You’ll have something brought to you.”

  “Have my brother sent down. I want to see him.”

  The guard didn’t seem willing to do much of anything but finally ducked into the corridor and spoke with someone.

  Fifteen minutes later the guard returned. “Your brother isn’t able to come right now.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like I said, he’s not coming. Make yourself comfortable. Supper is being brought down.”

  Digger felt the tension rising in his chest. He followed the guard and planted a palm on the door to keep it from closing.

  “Move your hand.”

  “The agreement was my brother stays safe. Where is he?”

  “He’s fine. But it’s like I said, he’s not coming.”

  As the guard tried to push the door shut, Digger threw his weight against it and knocked the guard back. A second guard was fumbling to draw a sword from its sheath. Digger drove his shoulder into him and knocked him back against a wall, sending a framed painting crashing to the floor. Digger thrusted the flat of his hand into the man’s chest. The guard gasped and fought to catch his breath.

  The first guard began shouting, “Help!”

  “Where’s my brother?”

  The guard was backing away. “He’s still here in the castle! He’s safe! Nothing has happened to him!”

  “Don’t make me ask where again.”

  “He’s in the kitchen! He didn’t want to leave to come see you.”

  “All right. Then you’re going to take me to him.”

  HE MARCHED THE GUARD along by the arm. The one who had his wind knocked out of him was trailing behind them, sword in hand. More guards fell in and followed, one with a crossbow leveled and aimed. But Digger kept charging up the steps and down the long hallways, trying to remember which passageway led where. Then the smell of food hit him and he only had to follow his nose.

  Monty and a dozen other cooks were busy in the kitchen, where pots simmered and the spacious prep stations were covered with various dishes in the early stages of plating. Monty had a knife in hand and was mincing scallions, oblivious to his brother’s presence.

  Digger stood in place and gaped. “What are you doing?”

  “The green onions should have gone into the broth when it was started this morning.”

  Digger released the guard and slammed his palms down onto the cutting board. Monty flinched and dropped the knife.

  “Why are you in here working?”

  “They were going to ruin the broth.”

  “Forget the broth! I asked to see you. Did it slip out of your head that we’re prisoners here?”

  The kitchen had fallen silent but for the hiss of the pots on the stove.

  Monty’s voice was small. “I didn’t forget. I just wanted to help—”

  “Help what? Help the queen and her friends stuff their faces? They’re here to see me and more of our kind fight and die. And you’re here playing kitchen with them.”

  “I’m not playing. This has never been playing. And if you’d open your eyes you’d see it’s our kind here too.”

  There was more than a few fel among the kitchen staff. One of the guards moved towards Digger.

  “Touch me and I break your hand.”

  “What are you going to do, Digger?” Monty asked. “You agreed to fight in her new games. You didn’t ask me. Sofia left the castle this morning and didn’t come back. Did you miss that? I’m also a prisoner here. And now I’m all alone and you expect me to just sit and wait for news about whatever’s happening?”

  “I didn’t ask because you were tied up in Sofia’s apartment. Now we’re both here and I’m glad you found a way to keep yourself occupied.”

  He brushed past the guards crowding the kitchen door. They led him back to his bedroom. His mind was racing, his throat felt thick, and he had no words when the guards locked the door.

  Monty was right on one point.

  They were both the queen’s captives once again. Monty was making the best of it. It was his brother’s way of coping.

  But at any moment the queen would change their deal to suit her. He realized she’d wait until the last moment to do so. The games weren’t until the next night. He had until then to come up with a plan to get them all out of there alive.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  SHRILL WHISTLES SHATTERED the night’s silence.

  The guards on the walls were lighting lanterns, the glow visible through the small window in Digger’s room. He rose to listen. After a series of shouts both inside and out, the sounds faded.

  Digger pulled on his clothes. Checked the door. “What’s going on?”

  The sentry didn’t answer.

  Digger backed away when he heard guards hurrying towards his room. When the door opened, a group of guards stood with weapons drawn.

  “He’s still in here!” Corporal Dario shouted.


  “Turn around,” another guard ordered. He entered and pressed Digger against the wall before frisking him. There was nothing to find.

  Another man looked under the bed and made a search of the small room.

  Digger kept his head against the wall and his arms spread. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

  “Nothing you need to worry about if you’ve been here all night,” the corporal said.

  “I disagree. Everything that happens here concerns me. And since you’re here and seem surprised I’m still in my room, I’d say I’m involved. Is my brother okay?”

  The corporal gave an order to another man, who hurried off. “He’s going to check.”

  “And what about Isabel? Did she come back to the castle? And Lady Sofia?”

  “We didn’t have instructions to keep them here. Just you and the chef. But we’ll know soon.”

  “What’s happening out there?”

  The corporal didn’t answer. A few minutes later the departed guard came running back and reported.

  “The chef’s still in his bedroom. He’s fine.”

  “Was his pureblood lady friend with him?” the corporal asked.

  “No, sir.”

  “Check on our other fel guest. She might be with Sir Jamie. Then I’ll report to Lady Claudia.”

  Digger faced the corporal. “Did someone break into the castle?”

  “No. But someone killed a city watchman and put him on a horse and sent him to the front gate.”

  Marcus. He wasn’t done. And he was sending a message either to him or the queen. Another dead guard would terrify the men of the castle. Judging by the tense soldiers around him, it was working.

  “The sheriff was looking into the murders in the city. He needs to know about this.”

  “He’s gone.”

  “Then who’s going to investigate?”

  The corporal was distracted when a new guard came in and whispered something to him. The guards began to leave.

  “Wait,” Digger said. “Take me out to see the body. Maybe I can help.”

  “It’s bad enough that you’re inside the castle. The last thing we need is for a fel to be running loose. Go back to bed and be glad you’re not in the dungeon after what you pulled. And you’d better get some sleep. From the sound of it, you’ll need your strength tomorrow.”

  THERE WAS LITTLE TO do but wait and listen. Judging by the sounds, the castle remained on alert throughout the night. Sometime in the early morning the corporal showed up again at Digger’s door.

  He handed Digger the manacles. “Put these on.”

  “It’s early. I was planning on sleeping in.”

  “It’s your brother. He tried to slip out and he won’t drop a hatchet he’s holding. So either help us or we handle this.”

  Digger snapped on the manacles and let the guards escort him through the castle and to the main stairway. On an upper walkway above the foyer stood Monty, backed up against the banister. He held a hatchet that doubled as a meat tenderizer in one hand and a boning knife in another. Three guards with drawn swords had him surrounded. The only way out was to jump over the bannister.

  “Monty, what are you doing?” Digger asked.

  “Getting out of here.”

  “We can’t do that. We’ve talked about this.”

  “No, you talked. Sofia’s not back yet and now it’s morning. Didn’t you hear? Whoever it is out there killing people murdered someone else.”

  “Yeah, I heard. But they’re not letting us leave. Put the weapons down.”

  Monty shook his head. “I’m not getting locked up in my room.”

  “We don’t have a choice.”

  “It seems you keep making the choices for me.”

  Jamie appeared next to the corporal. He was wearing a long nightshirt and carried no weapon and looked out of place among the guards. He pushed aside the tip of a sword aside that was pointing at Digger.

  “Can I be of assistance?”

  “Best stand back, sir,” the corporal said. “We’ve got this under control.”

  “Perhaps you and your men do, but this latest commotion has made enough noise to wake the dead. Monty, you remember me from breakfast and the bar.”

  “You’re Isabel’s boyfriend.”

  “Yeah. We haven’t really spoken. But she told me you’re an amazing chef.”

  “I don’t care about that right now. Lady Sofia left the castle yesterday and hasn’t come back.”

  “She had a guard with her, didn’t she? Where did she go?”

  Monty’s eyes were darting between the soldiers and back to Jamie. “To the Dragon and Rose.”

  Digger sighed. “Look, she probably got to checking on things and had a few drinks.”

  “Maybe. But we don’t know that. And with that killer having just been there, you don’t know she’s safe.”

  “Then there’s a simple solution,” Jamie said. “Let me get dressed and I’ll go there now.”

  Monty nodded eagerly. “I’m going with you.”

  “That’s not possible,” the corporal said. “You and your brother stay here. And Sir Jamie, Lady Claudia won’t want you out on your own. We can send someone to get a report from the guard watching the bar.”

  Jamie looked between the corporal and Monty. “I think this requires a more deliberate hand. I’m going. Monty agrees to put his weapons down and will wait for my return. Detail a couple of guards to come with me, Corporal. We check on Sofia and bring her back here if possible. Is that acceptable?”

  The corporal nodded deferentially.

  “Okay,” Monty said. “Bring her back.”

  He then looked at the hatchet and knife as if surprised. He placed both on the floor. A guard grabbed him and yanked him towards the stairway.

  “Take it easy with him,” Digger said. He tried to pull away from the corporal but two guards kept him in check.

  “Show’s over, boys,” the corporal said. “Get our guests back in their rooms. We’re all going to take it easy. Because this has been enough excitement for one night.”

  Digger watched as Monty was ushered away. Two of the guards went off with Jamie and out the main doors. Jamie didn’t appear to be bothering to take the time to get dressed. The faces of the other guards around Digger looked tired.

  “I’m not going to have any trouble with you, am I?” the corporal asked.

  “Not as long as Monty isn’t hurt. The watchman who was killed last night—what happened to him?”

  “He was a messenger from the stockade. Gutted like a fish and lashed to the saddle of his horse. His intestines were dragging behind him. Also had someone else’s finger with a ruby ring shoved into his mouth. And now there’s a rumor this killer is one of your kind.”

  “Not a rumor,” another guard growled.

  Digger showed off his manacles. “I was trying to help and look where it got me.”

  The closest guard gave him a shove. Once again he was locked up.

  There he stayed for the duration of the day. Servants brought in meals. But he wasn’t given access to his practice room. He paced. Stretched. Slept until early evening, when he was collected and brought out to the waiting carriage in time for his appearance at the theater.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  THE SOFT CHIMES OF the nightstand clock brought Claudia up from a deep slumber. She had set it to allow herself an extra hour and twenty minutes of sleep, as she wanted to be well rested.

  Game day.

  Months before her next catacombs would be ready, truly, but being forced to adapt was blossoming into what would be a spectacular outing if even half of what she planned for the evening bore fruit.

  She washed and dressed quickly, her two chambermaids efficient in getting her prepared and needing few instructions. One of the girls brushed her hair out in order to fix it in place with a barrette studded with flecks of diamond. Each tug of the brush brought pain, but Claudia’s attendant had been admonished to never hold back in making it perf
ect. Claudia endured it without wincing.

  Claudia tended to her own metal hairpin and set it so the jewel at the end would catch the light.

  She was wrapped in a girdle, which was cinched tight. Her attendants brought out a teal trumpet dress and put it on her. It was snug around the hips and Claudia worried about climbing in and out of the carriage. But this was her newest dress, fashioned by the Yao sisters in Altea and the first of a new line that would be produced in one of Claudia’s own garment factories. A pink waist sash with a dangling bow was the final adornment. Claudia slid on her rings and chose a simple aquamarine necklace before examining herself in the mirror.

  “Time,” she said.

  One of the chambermaids brought her a bracelet watch and put it on. This one appeared to be working.

  With a final dusting of her face, Claudia exited her bedroom. She needed a report on where the preparations were. But first she wanted to check on her houseguests. There had been an incident that morning but she had been assured her champion was back in his room and unharmed.

  The captain over the castle guards met her in the clock room. “It was the fel chef. He tried to leave and we stopped him. He stole some kitchen tools and threatened one of the guards.”

  “And no one was hurt?”

  “No, my lady. They’re both locked up and under guard. My apologies.”

  “Yes, of course. Things happen. But do please be sure nothing else goes wrong. It’s a busy day. A game day. And I do want everything to be perfect.”

  The captain nodded and bowed, moving his mouth as if trying to find the right words.

  “Spill it.”

  “I was debating sharing the night’s report, but I think you need to know what else happened. Another of the city watch was killed. His body was placed on a horse and sent to the castle.”

  “Oh? Describe it.”

  “My lady?”

  “Oh, you heard me.”

  “It was truly gruesome. He had been stabbed through.”

  “Go on.”

  “Ma’am, are you sure?”

  She let out a long sigh. This captain wasn’t going to do. He had been adequate for the past few months, but he had been the one in charge during her last catacomb games. The castle had suffered an intruder who had fed a guard and a stableman to one of the trolls and then absconded away with both giant creatures. And now he was showing reluctance to share information?