That stung her. She had neglected them sadly. And now that she needed their help, she wondered if she had the right to ask. Friendship carried a responsibility just like royal blood and loyalty to the principles of fair and honest government.
At the moment she didn’t know which responsibility was greater. She leaned toward her friends, hoping their love for each other would carry them into adulthood and through additional responsibilities together.
“I really need your help,” she whispered to them. “You are the only ones I can truly trust with this quest.”
Miri and Chastet smiled and nodded, seemingly satisfied—for the moment.
They continued on their way, exchanging only idle chatter. Linda ran her fingers around each bridge latch on either end of the span. So far they’d all been recently oiled. She also caught signs of random boards weakened or split. If a heavy troop of soldiers managed to get onto the bridges before they were destroyed by a retreating populace, they’d probably break those boards and get stuck, or fall into the muddy river.
The water looked shallow and sluggish. Shouldn’t it be running fast and clear with spring rain and snowmelt?
Before she had time to figure out that question they crossed onto the island that bustled with brightly colored merchant stalls. As usual the permanent storefronts with rich fabric and lace, custom-made boots and shoes, and jewelry lined the cobbled street closest to the bridge leading to the homes of the wealthy nobles, ambassadors, and royals.
Miri and Chastet lingered in front of a display of fine silk damask in rich jewel tones. Another day Linda would have been tempted as well.
“We need to find the eggs,” Linda whispered to her ladies and Lillian.
“The produce stalls are that way,” Chastet said, waving toward the west, the embankment closest to the boats bringing food from the interior of the continent. It was empty today. The few stalls left open had only a few wilted vegetables and no breads. Most of the merchants had closed up shop hours ago. A number of them looked dismantled.
Further evidence that something was wrong with the farms and the river.
“Not the kind of eggs you can eat!” Linda protested, reluctantly returning her gaze to the ladies and Lillian. “These are special eggs, magical eggs, about so big.” She put her two fists together, one atop the other. Briefly she described the red and black monstrosity Lucjemm had showed her.
Miri’s and Chastet’s eyes went wide with wonder and fear. Did Linda see a glimmer of pride in their expressions as well? Pride that she trusted them with this important mission.
“We need to spread out and look in each and every stall, especially toward the ports. The eggs come from the east, by ship.”
Her ladies hesitated before they nodded agreement. Lillian studied the cobbles.
“Whatever you do, do not touch the egg if you find one. Come find me instead.”
“H . . . how will we find you?” Miri asked. Her voice was so low Linda had to strain to hear her.
Linda hadn’t thought about that. She’d gotten so used to knowing where Glenndon was, that she assumed everyone could find anyone just thinking about it.
Think! she told herself. Think like P’pa. Or Glenndon.
Drawing a deep breath for courage she looked at all three of her companions, except Lillian, who still refused to meet her gaze. “Miri, you take Lillian. She has a magical talent so she can seek me, mind to mind. Chastet, you come with me. I can find Lillian’s mind. If worst comes to worst, we’ll meet back here when the Temple bells ring for afternoon prayer.”
Lillian shook her head. “Don’t leave me, Highness,” she pleaded, eyes still firmly on the ground.
“We have to do it this way. We don’t have time to search the entire island if we stay together. We have to finish this today and report back to the king.”
“I’ll take care of you, Lillian. I promise.” Miri took the girl’s hand gently. “And when we get back, I’ll let you try on some of my gowns. We’re almost of a size, I’m sure we can find something that fits you that you can wear to court.” She fixed Linda with a telling gaze and turned away, toward the lesser stalls on the way to the exotic portside establishments. “Does anyone call you Lily? You’re so pretty and fair, I think that fits you better than Lillian.”
“I like Lily. My twin calls me that. But no one else does. Do you have old gowns you aren’t wearing anymore in lavender and pale green? Val likes darker purple, and no other shades, but I like to mix . . .”
“Looks like we’ve been dismissed,” Chastet muttered.
“Looks to me like she’s taking better care of our troubled guest than I ever did,” Linda muttered with regret. “Come. We have to find those eggs before afternoon prayer.”
Two hours later Linda and Chastet stood before the same gaudy tent Lucjemm had taken her to. They’d approached from the south, having found nothing resembling the red and black egg. Miri and Lillian came into view two alleys north. Miri shook her head in disappointment.
They all looked and acted tired, dusty, and much in need of rest and refreshment.
“We saw some porcelain and jeweled decorations in blues and greens and white,” Miri reported. “Nothing like what you described.”
“I smelled no magic in the eggs we saw,” Lillian added, but she refused to look up. She was hiding something.
Now was not the time to ask. Too many people jostled them. Any one of them could be paid to eavesdrop. Had she seen that short pudgy man in shades of clashing yellow and orange before?
Linda frowned as she scanned the jumble of odd wall hangings, ornaments, bits and pieces of metal, beautifully sculpted but of little, or at least little discernible, use. The wooden casket with soft lambswool lining was nowhere in evidence. Neither was the merchant who offered the diverse collection for sale.
“Excuse me,” Linda called, hoping someone, anyone, hid behind a black and red tapestry at the back of the tent. “Is anyone here? Do you have any exotic eggs for sale?”
“Sold ’em all,” came a quavering and elderly voice. “Young lord bought all three. Every time I have one of those cursed eggs for sale, he buys ’em. Pays more than they’re worth.”
Linda grew cold all the way past her bones to her stomach and heart.
CHAPTER 44
“DA, WHAT AILS YOU?”
Jaylor roused from the miasma of fatigue to focus on Glenndon. He stumbled on the last step before the landing at Glenndon’s room. “I’m missing something,” he mumbled.
“Besides Mama?” A wry chuckle escaped Glenndon as he held Jaylor’s arm with one hand and opened the pivoting door with the other.
Jaylor didn’t want to admit how tired he was, or how grateful for Glenndon’s supporting arm. “I always miss your mother, even when she’s only a half mile away.” He leaned heavily against the wall while Glenndon closed the door and straightened the tapestry over it.
“So what are you missing?” Glenndon rounded on him, arms crossed firmly across his chest while he inspected Jaylor.
“Not sure. Something flitting around the edges of my awareness, like a moth battering against a lighted window, then disappearing when I go to investigate.”
“Know the feeling.”
“Something about the iron flagpole.”
“We’ll figure it out once I complete my quest and have my staff. But there is more wrong with you than an uneasy feeling.” The boy shoved his shoulder under Jaylor’s arm and led—half carried—him toward the bed.
“I’m just a little tired. You should eat and rest before your quest tonight.” He negotiated the two steps up to the bed. Were they truly unstable or was that just his knees shaking? Then he gratefully sank into the soft mattress.
Stargods, he wished Brevelan was here to soothe him with her quiet songs and hearty broths. She made it so m
uch easier to think through troubling problems.
“When did you sleep last?” Glenndon asked, too discerning for his years. “Or eat for that matter?”
“I . . . I don’t quite remember. I’m not truly hungry, just empty.”
“Your pulse is racing and unstable. Rest while I order food. Then you sleep. Then I bring in Maisy. She used to be a midwife, now she’s a seamstress. What she is, and always has been, is your spy.”
“You’re getting too observant and used to princely authority,” Jaylor muttered.
“Practicing for when you retire and I take over the University.” Glenndon flashed a cheeky grin.
“Looking forward to that day. Do you think the palace kitchen can come up with something as homely as yampion pie?”
“They keep it on hand for me. Not as good as Mama’s but the best thing for restoring a body after throwing a big spell.”
“And . . . and since your mama isn’t here to object, a chicken?”
“Of course. Perhaps some slices of wild boar as well?”
“Wake me when it comes. And don’t let me sleep too long. I need to be ready . . .” He wasn’t sure if he finished that sentence or not before sleep claimed him.
Can we fly? Valeria asked the dragon she shared this strange new body with.
(I have been with you since the beginning,) Lyman reminded her.
She winced mentally. He’d always been in the back of her mind, but she hadn’t known he was there. Not really. Just sort of an uneasiness whenever she thought too hard or got too tired to sleep.
But slept she finally had, long and hard, until she awoke in the strange library room underground. She remembered nothing of the hours that had passed since the . . .
(Transformation.)
I know you can read my mind since we are one mind now. But can we fly? She groomed her right front paw while she waited for a response. They had performed the task of finding that strange letter for Da and Glenndon. Lyman had needed her help sniffing it out. No one but Lillian expected anything more of them at the moment.
I have always longed to fly. I dream of it sometimes.
(I have not flown since . . . since I was little more than a dragonet. I do not know that I remember how.)
Oh, she sighed with disappointment.
(I too have often longed for the freedom of the skies.)
Can we try? Just a short flight to begin. We don’t want to get too tired and be stranded far from the palace. And Lillian. Valeria wished mightily that Lillian could join them in this adventure.
(I know a place to launch into an updraft. That will help,) Lyman agreed.
Valeria allowed him command of the cat body, and they scampered up and around and along corridors until they found a door propped open with a much-folded lace-edged handkerchief covering the lock so it would not latch. For half a moment Valeria longed to stroke the fine linen and dainty lace.
Such luxuries belonged to a princess, not to the humble daughter of a magician who spent most of her days working in her mother’s garden, getting her hands filthy and giving her nails ragged quicks.
(Our princess and her adventurous brother have made entry easier for Indigo, and now us,) Lyman said.
At last Valeria had an excuse to rub her whiskers against the soft cloth. She sniffed the handkerchief to see who had handled it last. Lucjemm was with them.
(That boy is everywhere the princess is!)
I do not like him. He smells of lies. Why does the king trust him with his daughter?
(As a very young man, many generations ago, I had a tutor who quoted a very old text. ‘Keep you friends close, your enemies closer.’)
Valeria had to think about that for a moment. Know thy enemy. Da says that a lot in strategies class.
(You are very young to be taking strategies. Isn’t that class reserved for journeymen?)
Who said I was a student of strategies? Doesn’t mean I haven’t listened in.
(Then use your excellent brain to open this door and keep the lock block in place.)
Valeria had to study the problem. I don’t think there is a way.
Lyman heaved a heavy sigh; their entire body rippled with the expulsion of air. (Very well then. We shall have to return by a ground entrance or an open window.)
Thinking together, they used extended claws to pull the door open just enough to insert an entire paw, and then squeeze their body through a narrow opening. The handkerchief fluttered downward onto their back. Valeria luxuriated in the way the silky fabric caressed their fur for a long moment before shaking it free so that it landed off to the side, away from foot traffic. She didn’t want it to get any dirtier than necessary.
The long spiral staircase looked strangely familiar.
(I have been here before. Many centuries ago. You have not.)
In her own body, Valeria would have trudged up those endless stairs, one by one, her feet dragging heavily, her lungs laboring. Actually she never would have attempted the stairs, insisting Da or Glenndon carry her.
(That is why you never grew stronger. You never tried small steps, only big ones that exhausted you. So you never tried at all.)
A bit of guilt stung Valeria. Everyone expected me to keep up, all the time. When I couldn’t, they kept pushing harder until I had to insist on giving up before I got sick. That didn’t sound exactly right, but close enough.
(We can’t fly if I can’t trust you to keep going.)
Oh. But I do want to fly, even if only a short way.
(Short we shall keep it.)
I smell Indigo.
(He was here with the princess and her escorts. He marked the way for us, almost like he knew we would come.)
Dragons don’t regard time like people. They let it flow forward and back. We plod along a straight line, ignoring all other possibilities.
(Who told you that?)
You did. In a dream. I dreamed of flying, she replied on a chuckle.
(I have been chained to human bodies for so long I forgot that. Now I have the chance to be a dragon again. If only for a few moments.) Lyman stopped beside a narrow door leading off a narrower landing. He stood on hind feet, placed paws on the wooden panels, and leaned all of their weight against the portal. A latch clicked and then the door popped outward, swinging easily.
Before it could swing shut again they leaped through and onto a flat roof that overlooked a rose garden two stories below. Palace towers rose around them like so many giant trees, stretching toward the sky. Some bore conical roofs, others open parapets with crenellated barriers.
Valeria gasped at how high they were, higher than she’d ever climbed in a tree. But her view of the city and the Bay was blocked by tall buildings and those towers.
Lyman lifted their head to sniff the breeze. Valeria smelled grass and plowed fields and the brackish river. The land smelled dry. Had they had any rain recently?
(We fly west,) Lyman said. Their whiskers twitched, helping them judge the strength and direction of the breeze. (Warm, off the plains. We’ll have a good updraft.)
Shouldn’t the air move inland from the Bay? she asked, puzzled by all the weather lessons Mama had taught her and Lillian.
Rather than answer, Lyman stretched their wings. The air caressed the sensitive flight feathers. Their feet didn’t want to stay anchored, so they took five running steps toward the eaves, growing lighter, more buoyant with each stride until the updraft caught them just as they stepped off into . . .
Nothing.
The land fell away below them. Lyman found a path around a sand-colored tower with a red roof, then over the enclosed training arena where men bashed each other with blunted swords, and up over the palace wall.
Higher and higher he flew until the delta islands shrank to dull dots surrounded by the riv
er sparkling in the afternoon sunlight.
Isn’t this far enough? Valeria asked as the river bent to the north. Fields of bright green stretched below, on and on until they faded to dull brown at the horizon a long, long way away.
(Glory in the wonder of flight before your hesitation and fear takes control of your mind. Enjoy yourself. Let me take charge. This may be my last flight ever.)
I’ll make sure we fly again before we transform back to my body.
(We may not have time. Time is a wonder, and a menace.) He paused for a long moment, flapping their wings when the updraft shifted. They rose up to catch another and glided onward.
I don’t know, Lyman. We need to go back. Now.
(Just a few moments more, little one. Trust me.)
Valeria wasn’t sure about that. This seemed too risky. She didn’t want to collapse with fatigue so far from the palace and help. She looked for a good place to land where she could rest. A hilltop maybe to make launching into flight easier?
What’s that? Valeria pointed toward an array of colored tents and banners spread out behind one of the rolling, rounded hills.
(The enemy.)
We have to go back!
(I can’t. I’ve stretched our strength too far.) They dropped awkwardly, faster and faster, as the pull of the land overcame the wind’s ability to hold them aloft.
I was afraid of this. I’m never going to trust you again.
They stumbled and rolled when they met the crisp meadow grasses.
Sharp pain jolted up their front paws to their shoulders and spine. Valeria sighed at the return of familiar aches. Lyman remained strangely silent.
Nothing hurt as long as she lay still. The tiniest movement sent spasms of sharp pain the length of her spine.
“Well, what do we have here? A bit of magic that must be destroyed? Or a spawn of dragons that threatens my soldiers?” a young man of noble bearing sneered as he strode from the encampment toward them. A thick black snake draped about his neck, flicking its red, forked tongue at them, glaring at them through beady red eyes. As it writhed to stay in place, three pairs of leathery wings unfurled and refolded.
The Silent Dragon: Children of The Dragon Nimbus #1 Page 30
