“Answer my question!”
Takatin waved the girl off.
The pesan glanced at them both, bowed, and left, closing the door behind her.
Returning to the papers he’d been reading, Takatin said, “The prisoner was captured in one of the villages along with a dragon. He is a Laminae, or is working with them.”
“The Laminae? That’s preposterous. They don’t even exist anymore. What proof do you have?”
“His own words. He says the Hour of Creation is a lie and that dragons are not the creatures Yrdra created.”
“So? There are many who believe that. Since when do we ‘capture’ people from the villages who don’t believe as we do?”
“It is not I who do this. The umeri have spoken. The boy and the dragon must be executed.”
Cirtis stared at him. “There was a vote?” If there had been, his options would be much more limited.
“A quorum voted last night, yes. There was no tie, so you were not bothered, as it was late.”
That scheming bastard. “We cannot do this. The Laminae that were executed nearly a century ago had killed people. Besides which, there are laws now. We can’t just kill someone for no reason!”
“Heresy isn’t enough of a reason?”
“Heresy? We aren’t a religious order, Takatin. We merely serve our purpose, killing the evil creatures Yrdra created.”
“A purpose cloaked in lies.”
“Not one minute ago the boy saying the First Principle is a lie condemned him as a Laminae and to death—now you say the same thing?”
Takatin’s jaws worked, but he said nothing.
“Killing an innocent boy is going too far. Do you really think Lady Hasana’s investigators will ignore a request from the Dragon Craft Guild to check into the murder of one of their members?”
Muscles in his jaws still twitching, Takatin looked down at the papers before him. “Perhaps you are right. I might be able to convince the umeri to spare the boy’s life, though I make no promises.” He looked up. “My hands are tied with the dragon, however. They feel its death will be an example to all who doubt the Order’s reason to exist, and to all who think we do not serve our purpose.”
Takatin returned to the documents. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Capu, I have my day to start.”
The man’s behavior troubled Cirtis. Though concerned, he kept his face serene as he made his way through Bataan-Mok. Nearly all members now allied themselves with one of the major factions, but even so, many still looked to him for strength. A nod, a smile, a raised hand in greeting, all lifted morale. As long as Capu Cirtis looked calm, looked in control, the state of the Order was assumed to be good. He’d had to redouble his efforts, lately, with the caustic mood hovering over the Order like a heavy lid on a boiling pot. The interesting thing was, the odd tension in the air had been replaced today with expectation, promise, and excitement. All because of Anaya.
News of the dragon had spread like wildfire. Cirtis had stopped by Daelon’s Plaza earlier to check in on her. As he’d approached the plaza, he heard laughter. Children, young pesani, laughing. And it was the laughter of wonder and joy. When he entered the large courtyard, he saw why. Anaya was incredible, beautiful, even. She did not fit the image of the savage beast attacking and killing people that old stories so often painted of dragons. She merely lay there calmly, iron shackles on her legs, occasionally watching those that watched her. She had even chirped—chirped!—at a few people. Many watching her seemed excited by and, at least to his eyes, enamored of the fettered creature. He couldn’t blame them. Even in chains she looked majestic and regal. In fact, it seemed her placid nature was actually working against the attitudes that some hoped to instill with her capture and execution.
He frowned, then quickly cleared his expression.
Aeron would not be happy when he learned about the execution. Cirtis had tried to think of a way around it as he walked the hallways to the gaol, but nothing presented itself to him.
The large door opening revealed a room, the opposite end of which was sectioned off with bars. Aeron was in there, laying on a shabby bed. Cirtis stepped in the room and the heavy door clanged shut behind. A flicker of recognition passed across the boy’s features, but it was quickly replaced with a blank expression.
Aeron stood. “Who are you?”
Good. He had quick wits. Observers were not the only ones who watched and reported. Reading lips was likely a widely held skill. “I am Capu Cirtis, young man. Some would say I am the leader of the Corpus Order.”
There was a small stool off to the side. He grabbed it and made his way to the iron bars.
The seat creaked when he sat upon it. He made sure his back was to the guards. “I was able to convince Takatin to spare your life, or at least to say he would try. I am going to speak with recent acquaintances, though, to see if there is anything we can do. I have some people I can count on, but these new friends have more reach.”
Aeron glanced at the guards.
“Don’t worry about them, they cannot hear us. They are deaf and mute.”
“Deaf?”
“Yes. They cannot be tempted or swayed by words they cannot hear, and they cannot spread words they should not hear.” Cirtis glanced about the room. “This place is for special prisoners. Though it has not been used in decades, truth be told.”
“Special?”
“Revolutionaries. Seditionists.”
Aeron grunted and sat on the floor just on the other side of the bars. “Why get help? Don’t you trust Takatin?”
Cirtis frowned. “I do not. His actions worry me, and his motivations are unclear.”
“I think he feels betrayed.”
“Betrayed?”
Aeron nodded. “By the Order.”
“I know he is upset about the Hour of Creation, but—”
“When do you think your friends will be able to help me and Anaya? From what I was told, we don’t have a lot of time.”
Cirtis stared at the boy. “I’m sorry, Aeron, but we can’t save Anaya.”
“What? Why not?”
“The umeri want to make an example of her.”
“We have to save her, Capu.” Aeron gripped the bars.
“There are many arguments that can be made against executing you, but I can think of none for a dragon.”
“She’s a person, not some animal. And apart from her being my friend, our very souls are bonded, her and I, linked magically. If she dies, it may kill me. And even if it doesn’t do so outright . . .” The boy’s gaze lowered. “We can’t let her be killed.” He looked up. “We have to save her.”
The boy’s emotions were clear to see and it pained Cirtis to witness them. “Aeron, she’s enormous, she’s shackled to stone blocks, and an entire hand watches over her day and night. Even could we somehow remove the manacles without being seen, it’s not as if we could just—just tuck her into a sack or something and spirit her away to safety.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
Aeron’s eyes narrowed. “By all the gods, that’s it!” He got up on his knees, close to the bars. He looked eager. “During the execution, where will I be?”
“I . . . don’t know. Still here, perhaps, or if we are successful, you’ll be free.”
“Can you arrange it so that I am with her? Or at least within ten feet or so?”
What was the boy planning? “I can. But you’ll both be in Daelon’s Plaza, surrounded by what will likely be every man, woman, and child in Bataan-Mok, including two hands. How are you going to get away?”
The dragon boy smiled. “We’ll use a giant sack,” was all he said.
+ + + + +
Willem blinked. That . . . might actually work, Anaya. How is he doing anyway?
He is well, though nervous. Capu Cirtis tried to convince Nesch Takatin to stop the umeri from executing me and Aeron, but he was only able to stop them from killing Aeron. It seems they want to kill me to show that they still hunt dragons.
I
diots. Do you think Capu Cirtis just needs more time to convince Nesch Takatin not to let them kill you?
I am not sure. Capu Cirtis does not trust him. The man’s feelings are shrouded, muddled. He is difficult to read. Aeron is worried.
Willem would be nervous, too, if he were stuck in Bataan-Mok, in gaol, with no friends about. He patted Balam’s shoulder and glanced at Polandra. She was waiting patiently for him to finish. And you? How are you doing?
I am . . . okay. Not being able to fly is the worst I must endure.
Willem looked up at the star-filled heavens. A dragon not being able to fly, not being able to soar up there was be a terrible thing indeed.
At least I am out in the open, in the courtyard. Aeron is held in a little room inside, with not even a window to see the sky.
Well, if his plan works, you’ll both free of that place two nights from now. Hold on to that thought.
I will.
We’re going to head back to the Caer and tell everyone of the plan. Tell him . . . tell him to be strong. You be strong, too.
And you, Willem. You be strong, as well.
Willem nodded. Yes. He had to be strong, too. He turned to Polandra. “Thanks for letting me talk to her.”
She smiled. “Of course.”
Balam rumbled and rested his chin atop Willem’s head. We have chosen well.
Willem reached up and patted his neck. Yes we have, love. And those bastards will not take them from us.
After one last slap on his neck, Willem mounted up. “Let’s get back and let them know.”
+ + + + +
Fillion twisted his lips in a grimace and leaned back against the table. Why did it have to be now?
He turned to Guildmaster Millinith. “The place I left her?”
She nodded and tapped the ‘writer. “That was her request.” She closed the cover and set it aside on her desk. “It shouldn’t take long, she just wants you to drop her off in Delcimaar.”
Fillion crossed his arms. “It’s not that, it’s just that they aren’t back yet.”
She lifted a brow. “Well, if you stop wasting time, you may even return before them.”
He let out an exasperated breath. “Fine.”
With a wry smile, she said, “Go on, then.” She turned her attention back to the work on the desk.
Fillion blew air past his lips and trotted out the door. We’re going to pick up Gella, big guy.
At the other big city?
Yep. She needs a lift to Delcimaar.
What of Anaya and Aeron?
I know, I know. I want to know how they’re doing, too, but if we hurry, we’ll be back in no time.
Gregor got Coatl ready while he changed. Fillion stripped off his clothes, grabbed the riding gear, and tossed it all on the bed. While quickly getting dressed, he thought about what had happened to Aeron.
The whole thing had put him out of sorts. He felt confused, upset, relieved that Aeron and Anaya were so far okay, but also . . . disrespected. That was the main thing. Dragons and dragonlinked risked their lives to protect people, and something like this happens? Fillion shook his head.
He met them in the courtyard and slipped on the riding jacket. “If I’m not back before they are, make sure you mark well what they say. I want all the details.”
Gregor nodded. “I will.”
Fillion mounted up and started the gateway spell. Let’s go, big guy.
With a rumble, Coatl leapt into the air. Wings beating, he took them up and through the portal.
They emerged high above the low hill with Stronghold a short distance away.
Well, Fillion amended, the distance was short if you were flying on a dragon. Which he was. He reached down and patted Coatl’s neck. Can you sense her?
She is below us.
She is? Fillion searched the area again. Master Gella emerged from behind an outcrop and made her way to a large clear area to the side of the hill. Coatl angled down for a landing there.
“Fillion, Coatl, it’s so good to see you two again.” She smiled at them.
His bond-mate chirped at her.
Fillion nodded and said, “Well met, Master Gella. It is good to see you, too. How goes the investigation?”
“Very well. It’s nearly complete.”
“I see. Was the Korovite being used to counterfeit coins?”
“Indeed it was.”
“And was National Transportation involved after all?”
“Oh, yes. They’re in it like pollen in honey. I’ve got people in Stronghold gathering the last pieces of evidence we’ll need against them right now. They should be finished soon. There’s another team, accompanied by a number of guards and sorcerers, that will ‘borrow’ a train tonight, and begin the journey south to the desert camp. In the meantime, I’m going to start the wheels turning on the case against National Transportation once I get to Delcimaar.”
“Wow. You’ve got a lot happening right now.”
“In a few days we’ll shut them down in the flats, transfer ownership of the mine to the national mint, and arrest Tiberius in Stronghold. As far as National Transportation itself, so much of the company is involved that I’m not sure it will be allowed to continue operations. The High Lady may force them into dissolution.”
“Dissolution?”
“Shutting the company down for good. That happens when too much of it is involved with illegal activities. Otherwise, a stewardship is put in place until the removed management can be replaced.”
“I see. Shutting them down would be unfortunate. I’d feel sorry for their employees who would no longer have jobs. At least those who knew nothing of their illegal activities. I know they’re still having problems here in the East.”
“It would be unfortunate, yes. But we shall see.”
We should hurry. They will be returning soon from the South.
“Ah, yes, Coatl, you are right, we should hurry.”
Master Gella accepted the riding belt from Fillion and began strapping it on. “I didn’t mean to take you from a patrol route. Any dragonlinked could have carried me to Delcimaar.”
“Oh, no, it’s not that. Those . . . people from the Corpus Order have taken Aeron and Anaya prisoner. They’re going to execute Anaya in a couple of days. Willem and Polandra go down there each night to see how they are doing while we plan a rescue. They should be returning from tonight’s trip soon.”
“They’re going to kill Aeron’s dragon?” She looked at Coatl. “No. Fillion, you can’t allow that to happen.”
“You’re talking dragons to boys, Master Gella. We’re looking into every possibility to prevent it. Worse comes to worst, we’ll break them out by force.”
Coatl barked in agreement.
“I must get started on this case against National Transportation, otherwise, I’d return with you to Caer Baronel and offer whatever help I could.” She climbed into the saddle behind him. “But for now, get me to Delcimaar so you can return home for any news. Just be sure to tell Guildmaster Millinith to contact me if she needs anything. Anything, hear?”
“Yes, ma’am. I will. And . . . thank you Master Gella.”
“It is you and Coatl and your entire guild who deserve my thanks. I’d be nowhere near where I am now in the investigation without all of your help.”
Pride surged through the link, pride that Fillion felt, too. Coatl crouched slightly, then he leapt into the sky. His enormous wings beat again and again as he took them up and away.
Chapter 22
Sulday, Secundy 18, 1875.
Morning
Takatin glanced around the table. The umeri present were agitated. Faint chimes, the tinkling of crystals, filled the room. He disliked being summoned by them, but it appeared they had good reason. Or, at least they thought they did.
He glanced at Umeron Gomda. “Shall we begin? I dislike meeting this early.”
After a few bangs of the gavel, silence fell across the table. With a glance at a few of the members present, Umeron G
omda said, “This delegation brings word to you, Nesch Takatin, from the umeri.”
Takatin raised a brow. “And what do all the umeri want me to know?”
“Not all the umeri,” the Umeron amended, “but a number of them.”
Takatin waited.
“You must move up the execution of the dragon to tonight.” Umeron Yiska pounded the table with his fist.
The skeleton-thin umeron was at least seventy years old, if Takatin had to guess. “Ridiculous.” He waved off the suggestion. “There are three days of viewing before the execution. It has always been so.”
“And with good reason,” Umeron Gomda added. “This allows the people to see the dragon, to witness the evil we protect them from.”
“You,” Takatin continued, staring at Yiska, “more than many, know how many years it has been since the last dragon execution.”
“Fools!” Umeron Yiska leaned forward in the chair. “Have you not sensed the change in the Corpus Order? Have you not heard the whispers in the hallways? All from having that thing here for only one night. It is more dangerous than we imagined.”
There were murmurs of agreement around the table.
Takatin looked back at him. What did he mean, dangerous?
“You talked of this in the meeting earlier,” Umeron Gomda said, “and we listened. But it is still unclear—”
“You didn’t listen closely enough, it seems.” The old man gripped the armrests of the chair. “The mood in Bataan-Mok used to be tense and anxious. People were taking sides again! All that stopped once the dragon was brought in, once they’d seen it.” He grimaced. “There is something wrong with the beast.”
“We must kill it.”
Takatin missed who had spoken, but all around the table heads were nodding.
“There is a consensus,” Umeron Gomda said, though he seemed reluctant about it, “that the dragon should be executed tonight.”
Consensus? Takatin narrowed his eyes. So they weren’t going to bring it to a vote. Then perhaps he could remind them that while they sat in their meetings debating and deciding, he was the one who actually made things happen.
“Tonight?” Takatin shook his head. “Impossible.”
A Storm in the Desert: Dragonlinked Chronicles Voume 3 Page 42
