Master of Dragons

by Margaret Weis

She could have argued and probably got her own way, but, remembering that she might be pregnant, she didn’t want the seed jounced out of her, and so she chose to accept the prince’s decision. She would follow along with the rest of the baggage, as one of the knights remarked. Evelina heard him, but she didn’t mind. So long as the baggage was carried into the prince’s castle, that was fine with her.

  She rode behind the servant—a young lad of fourteen who smelled of garlic and had pock-marked skin. Her escort set a leisurely pace. As they sauntered along, they came upon Jorge, sitting on a piece of driftwood, mending his net.

  This time, he carefully kept his eyes on his work.

  Evelina held her head high, pretending not to notice him. But when they had ridden past, she glanced over her shoulder.

  He was a fine-looking man. He would give her a fine-looking son. Evelina sighed a little sigh and then set her face forward. She was pleased. She had Marcus bound by chains of iron that, if he chose, could be chains of silk. Evelina meant what she had said about loving Marcus. She did love him in her own way. Her love was a selfish love, founded on her own self-interest, but, in her experience, that was how love made the world go round. As for Marcus, he would get over his snit. He was a man, and she had never met the man she couldn’t lure into her bed. She could still feel Marcus’s kisses from last night, and she’d seen desire prick him this morning. He’d get over being upset and—once he’d married her—(she was aiming for marriage now, after what he’d put her through last night) she would make him glad he did.

  And her son would be a fisherman’s son. Not the son of a monster!

  30

  MARCUS MET WITH NO FURTHER UNTOWARD INCIDENTS ON HIS journey home. He and his escort arrived back at Idylswylde in the early hours of the morning. Upon sighting the walls of the castle—black and grim against the gray light of dawn—he could not contain his impatience and outdistanced his escort. His clattering arrival at the gatehouse startled the sleepy guards. Hearing the pounding of a horse’s hooves, they thought that some dire event had occurred. They were on their feet, with weapons at the ready, when Marcus came galloping up. Apprehension turned to relief and pleasure, and they welcomed the prince home, and sped him on his way through the outer walls.

  As he rode beneath the battlements, he looked at the cannons, lined up in a row on the wall, etched starkly against the light of the morning, black against pearl. The cannons crouched on the walls like some cold, unfeeling beast, ready to breathe fire and death on their foe. The sight was an arresting one and struck him forcibly, so that he slowed his horse. He’d seen the cannons often enough. He couldn’t think why the sight of the guns should so disturb him now.

  And then he understood. He was seeing them with the eyes of dragons. He was seeing them now as he’d seen them in his wild dance through dragon dreams.

  The cannons. Soulless monstrosities. Able to carelessly take what is given only once and, when lost, is lost forever.

  “Man cannot breathe fire and you can,” Marcus said to the dragons aloud. “We have made all things equal.”

  He rode on.

  Word of Marcus’s recovery had traveled faster. His parents had been up all night, watching for him. When he stood before his mother, safe and whole, Ermintrude flung her arms around him and clung to him, crying, and he could not help but shed a few tears himself. Edward received his son with few words and a firm embrace. The old seneschal, Gunderson, stood by, watching the reunion with heartfelt pleasure.

  Ermintrude was shocked at her son’s gaunt appearance and wanted to carry him off to be fed and pampered and put to bed. Marcus agreed to food, but said firmly that he needed to talk to his parents immediately on a matter of the utmost urgency.

  His father, looking grim, and his mother, looking apprehensive, accompanied their son to the king’s study.

  Marcus had been thinking all the way home on how to convince his father of the terrible threat facing them, a threat coming from an enemy kingdom that had bordered theirs for centuries, yet one no one had seen or heard of. Even now, if the king went hunting for his enemy, he would not find them. And this was an enemy whose capacity for destruction made the armies of the King of Weinmauer look like little boys playing at war with wooden swords.

  At least, Marcus thought, Draconas has been here before me, to prepare the way. This won’t come as a huge surprise.

  Eating cold meat and bread, Marcus told his tale from the beginning, mixing lies with the truth where it was apparent that not even his loving parents would believe his story.

  He told about how he’d run off with Bellona, which they already knew, and how he and Bellona had met up with Draconas, who had helped them find and enter the kingdom known as Dragonkeep, a kingdom hidden by illusion, a kingdom that was perhaps already marching to the drums of war. He told them about Bellona and her brutal death, and saw tears slide down his mother’s face. He mentioned Ven, and his father’s face darkened.

  Ermintrude caught Marcus’s eye and shook her head, warning him away from that subject. Marcus understood and went on.

  He had to bring up Evelina and he did so, though only briefly, speaking of her as a young woman who had been a prisoner in Dragonkeep and telling how they had escaped together. He gave Evelina credit for her courage and her resourcefulness, for he had decided to make the best of the situation. He’d realized, on the ride home, that the situation might resolve itself. She claimed she was pregnant, but if he hadn’t slept with her, how could that be? If she did turn out to be pregnant, then he must have done what she said, though he had no idea how. And in that instance, he would not bring any child into the world to hear, as he had heard, the whispered word “bastard.”

  What he did not tell his parents was how he’d been drunk and fought a dragon and danced through dragons’ brains.

  He thought he got through his story about Evelina pretty well—until he saw his mother’s expression. Marcus flushed and coughed and shifted back to the most urgent matter.

  “You already know all this I’ve been telling you, Father,” said Marcus, after a pause to refresh himself with a mug of ale. “Draconas said he told you.”

  Edward, looking grim, walked over to stand by the window. He stared out at the mountains.

  “I saw the army for myself, Father,” Marcus said, speaking to his father’s back. He didn’t mention how he’d seen it, in a wine-soaked dream. “Only the River Aston separates our nation from theirs. The river runs slow this time of year. They can ferry an army across it in no time.

  “And their army is terrible,” he added. “An army unlike any that has been seen before on this earth. One we can’t possibly fight. But one that we have to.”

  Slowly, Edward turned to face his son. The king’s expression was dark, but not with disbelief. Marcus knew his father. Edward had dismissed Draconas because he neither liked nor trusted the dragon-turned-man. The king had not dismissed the warning, however. He’d been thinking about it ever since. Perhaps he and Gunderson were already making plans. Marcus breathed an inward sigh of relief.

  “The dragons mean to conquer all of humankind, Father. Not all the dragons. Some, like Draconas, are opposed to this. But there are others, many others, who are in favor.”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to add that he’d been inside their thoughts, he’d seen the vibrant colors of fear and outrage in their minds. He swallowed the words with his ale.

  “We have one thing in our favor—the cannons,” Marcus went on, when the king didn’t speak. “This is the battle you’ve prepared for all your life, Father. Well, maybe not quite. You envisioned fighting dragons themselves, not humans wielding the power of dragons. No matter how strong their magic, a cannonball plowing into their ranks will leave them a mass of bloody pulp—sorry, Mother.”

  He turned to her, afraid he’d upset her. Ermintrude shook her head and sighed.

  “All this talk of war,” she mourned. “Just when there’s the loveliest young woman I want you to meet.”

&
nbsp; Edward and Marcus regarded her in mute astonishment.

  “She has just arrived,” Ermintrude continued calmly. “Her name is Izabelle. She is the daughter of the Earl of Cantwell and a distant cousin. You played with her when you were children, Marcus. I don’t suppose you remember, but she does.”

  With another one of her leaps, which were not so illogical as they appeared, Ermintrude added, “And when do we meet Mistress Evelina?”

  Marcus opened his mouth, only to close it again as Edward broke in impatiently, “My dear! Now is hardly the time!”

  Ermintrude tapped her reliquary. “There is a time for all things, Edward. ‘A time for love and a time for war.’ So the Church teaches us.”

  “So it does, my dear,” said the king. “But most times, war takes precedence. And it must now. I think you have a plan in mind, my son. I would be interested in hearing it.”

  Marcus breathed an inward sigh. He was spared for the moment.

  “I was thinking we could send a small force north to slow the dragon army’s march. Then feint a retreat, draw them back to Idyls-wylde castle, which is their objective anyway.”

  Edward nodded his head, approving. “I have been thinking much the same thing.”

  He turned to Ermintrude. “You should pay a visit to your father in Weinmauer, my dear. If you left this evening, you and your ladies—”

  “Don’t talk rubbish, Edward,” interrupted Ermintrude crisply.

  “You would have an armed escort—”

  “—of knights who will be of much more use on the field of battle than trotting along after me. I won’t hear of leaving, Edward, so save your breath. Carry on with your war and leave me to my business.”

  Edward and Marcus exchanged glances.

  “Draconas says that the dragons fear the cannons. He warned that they may attack them prior to the battle. Have they tried?” asked Marcus.

  “The only dragon who has come calling is Draconas,” Edward said wryly.

  Recalling the loathing for the cannons he’d seen in the dragons’ minds, Marcus was surprised. “I find it odd that they haven’t attacked.”

  “So did Draconas,” said Edward. “I don’t, however. You have the answer—the dragons won’t face the cannons. They don’t have to. They are going to send these wretched humans of theirs to the slaughter.”

  Marcus pondered. That answer was logical, though not altogether satisfactory. His father was implying that the dragons were cowards, hiding behind humans, and that wasn’t true. He found the fact that the dragons hadn’t tried to destroy the cannons disquieting. He would have liked to discuss this with Draconas, but Marcus had been ordered to “stay in his room.” Recalling the ancient and powerful force that lay outside that room, waiting for him, he considered this advice sensible.

  His father laid a hand on his shoulder.

  “You look about ready to drop, my son. Go to your rest. Gunderson and I will do what needs to be done to start this war in motion. No, my son, I insist,” Edward added, seeing Marcus ready to protest. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to leap into the saddle and ride off this instant. Today I’ll be sending out messengers, warning the crown prince and the barons to the north to fortify their borders and prepare for an attack.”

  “From an invisible kingdom. They’ll find it hard to swallow,” said Marcus.

  “Weinmauer is not invisible,” said Edward imperturbably. “They’ll easily believe that his troops are on the move. I’ve already called the muster. We’ll have men and equipment set to leave tomorrow.”

  Marcus was amazed and, apparently, his father saw that in his face, for Edward added, with a touch of bitterness, “I may not trust Draconas, but I’m not a fool. No matter what he tells you.”

  “Father,” said Marcus, “this army we face is like no other army on earth. The soldiers fight with weapons that are not of this world. Their armor is made of the scales of dragons. I think we should warn our people what they face.”

  “Should we?” Edward returned. “Won’t they think we are lying or worse—raving lunatics? I encountered the mad monks. I saw one of them send Draconas flying across the highway with a wave of his hand. I saw a wall that wasn’t a wall and a feeble old woman turn herself into a fire-breathing dragon. Nothing anyone could have told me would have prepared me for that.”

  “They’ll think they’re under attack by the Devil,” said Marcus, shaking his head. “At least tell the knights and the barons.”

  “I’ll discuss it with Gunderson,” said his father. “Perhaps you’re right. After all, even if they don’t believe me, they’ll know better to say it to my face. And they’ll be prepared when the time comes. I will summon the messengers and prepare the letters. You spend some time with your mother.”

  Marcus looked at his father in silent appeal.

  Edward clapped Marcus on the shoulder. “Courage, my son,” he said softly and left the room.

  Marcus turned reluctantly to face Ermintrude, thinking he would rather be facing the dragon.

  The queen rose ponderously to her feet, her silk rustling. She clasped her hands over her broad stomacher and said briskly, “You made love to this girl and now she claims she is pregnant with your child and you must marry her or buy her off. Is that what you are not telling me?”

  “Mother!” Marcus felt his face burn in embarrassment.

  “Don’t worry, my son. She cannot trap you like this. You are a prince of the realm and she is . . . What is she? What do you know about her?”

  “Nothing, really,” he said, keeping to himself the facts he did know.

  “I thought as much. How many times did you make love to her?”

  “I don’t remember making love to her at all,” Marcus admitted. “But there was wine . . . and she was . . . was there . . . beside me . . . when I woke up . . .”

  “Do you love this girl?”

  Marcus hesitated. “She was so pretty and she was in danger. We were both in danger. We had only each other . . . She was brave and level-headed and—”

  “You thought you were in love with her.”

  “Yes,” he said. “I was even tempted . . . But I don’t think I did. I just don’t remember!”

  “Does she love you?”

  Marcus’s flush deepened. “I think she does. I didn’t mean to lead her on. It’s just—”

  “You are young and thrown together in dangerous and romantic circumstances.” Ermintrude sighed. “I understand, my dear. Don’t blame yourself.”

  “But I do blame myself. I have to take responsibility and, well, she made threats.”

  “Did she, now,” Ermintrude said, her eyes flashing.

  “She was distraught and didn’t know what she was saying. And I mean to take care of her anyway.”

  “You will stay out of it,” said Ermintrude firmly. “I will deal with Mistress Evelina. And, yes, you will take responsibility. We’ll arrange to care for her and her baby, if she’s truly pregnant, which she could hardly know for certain yet.”

  “Mother, I don’t want any child growing up under the shadow of being called a bastard. Not like—”

  “Not like you?” His mother, who was really his stepmother, squeezed his hand. “I know how difficult it has been for you, dear heart. I am sorry, so very sorry. We tried to protect you, your father and I. But you are the son of a prince and people will talk. It will be different for this girl. We’ll marry her off to some good man who will care for her and the child. We’ll see to the child’s education. In the meantime, you will meet the Lady Izabelle.”

  Marcus shook his head. “The last thing I need is more women in my life, Mother.”

  Ermintrude smoothed out her skirts and patted her jewel-encrusted headpiece into place. She adjusted her many rings and her numerous bracelets. Marcus recognized the signs. She was arming for battle, just as any knight, and he knew he’d lost before he’d begun the fight. He was the son of a king, and king’s sons had no say in who they married.

  “Your father and I ha
ve already agreed to the wedding,” said the Queen. “The young lady is lovely and quite charming. You two played together as children. She still remembers some of the stories you used to tell her. The Lady Izabelle already knows about your magic. You used to conjure up fairies for her as a child. She told me all about it. Do you remember?”

  “No.” Marcus tried to think back, but memory of his childhood ended and began in a cave with Draconas. “I don’t think much about that time if I can help it.”

  Ermintrude patted his hand. “Go get some sleep. You’re falling over on your feet.”

  “I told Evelina she could have new clothes. She really was very courageous, Mother, and she did help me escape from Dragonkeep. She deserves something for that.”

  “She’ll have every comfort,” his mother assured him. “She will be well treated. She can live in the castle until we make other arrangements for her, so long as she behaves herself After you’ve had a good rest, you and the Lady Izabelle can take a nice walk along the battlements. She’s interested in the cannons. You can show them to her and explain how they work.”

  Marcus did not believe for one minute that the daughter of an earl would be interested in cannons, but he let it pass. He knew what his mother was about. Ermintrude embraced him, hugging him as close as her hooped skirt would permit.

  “I am so glad you are home, my dear one. I prayed to God, day and night. And now I must go to the chapel to thank Him. Sleep well! I’ll send Joseph to wake you in a few hours.”

  Ermintrude hurried off, wiping her eyes as she went. Marcus went to his bedchamber, thinking that he would lie down and try to sort out his tangled thoughts. Weariness put an end to that. He fell asleep and, if he dreamed, his dreams were not the dreams of dragons. Just the ordinary gray dreams of humans.

  31

  EVELINA ARRIVED AT THE CASTLE IN A POURING RAINSTORM, A DAY and a night after Marcus’s return. Drenched and exhausted, she had to be lifted off the horse, for she was so stiff and saddle-sore she could scarcely move. Consequently, she was in an ill humor that was not improved upon discovering that the only person to meet her was a crippled-up old retainer named Gunderson, who had only one eye.