A bubble of magic littered with black and red sparkles enclosed both the snake and the young man. No mundane weapon could penetrate that shield to harm either of them.
“Yes, my lovely.” The young man stroked the snake with affection. “The magic in the cat’s blood will feed you well. We will grow stronger when you feast upon it.”
We have to run. We have to warn the king!
(We can’t move. Our hind legs aren’t working right.)
CHAPTER 45
“WHERE’S VALERIA?” Glenndon asked Old Maisy after eating both his meal and Da’s. Jaylor seemed asleep for the rest of day. He needed it.
The venerable seamstress sat in a pool of sunlight beneath the window of the family sitting room. Her needle flicked in and out of a frothy mint green material with lavender trim making nearly invisible stitches. Her chair rocked to the timing of a brisk dance tune, setting the pace and spacing of her needle.
“Went off with you. I daresay it’s not my place to keep track of all the mortal souls that run in and out of the palace, appearing out of nowhere without warning. Constant interruptions to my sewing. I’ll never finish this dress in time for court tonight, and your lovely sister Lily will have to be humiliated into wearing that plain homespun. A great shame it is. A lady like the Senior Magician’s daughter not being able to hold her head up among her peers . . .”
“Maisy,” Da interrupted with a thundering echo behind his voice that demanded attention. “Maisy, Valeria came ahead of us some time ago. We presumed she’d be here, with her twin, Lillian. Those two are never far apart. Didn’t you leave any food for me, Glenndon?”
Glenndon shrugged out of habit and rang the servant’s bell.
“And don’t I know it, my lord. So alike and yet so different. Pretty and delicate, beautiful and full of life. Ain’t neither one of them complete without the other. Midwifed them both and despaired at saving the little’un let alone her mother. Torn between my duty to both the babe and my lady. Figured the babe that survived and her older brothers needed their mam more’n you all needed a sickly baby without my precious Brevelan to take care of them. But miracle of miracles Old Lyman came to the rescue and took the decision away from me. He saved Val for us all. Special child she is. Beyond special . . .”
“Maisy, where are my sisters?” Glenndon cut through her patter.
“Well, young sir, Your Highness, or is that high and mighty . . .”
“Maisy!” he yelled, drawing on every trick his father had taught him.
She closed her mouth with an audible snap.
“Where are the twins?”
“Lady Lillian went off with Her Highness and her ladies; said something about Market Isle and eggs. Though why the Princess Royale should be shopping for eggs when there’s ample kitchen staff to do it I don’t know. Speaking of which, I told the scullery boy to bring a plate of eggs and meat and yampions when you rang the bell again. Should be here in just another minute or so.”
Glenndon shook his head with fearful understanding. Linda had gone to seek out the importers of the Krakatrice eggs. “I have to go after Linda,” Glenndon said. Instinctively he reached for his sister’s mind and met a wall of cold fear.
“What about Valeria?” he asked Maisy again.
“I . . . I don’t know,” Maisy admitted reluctantly. Her needle paused in midstitch and a tear welled up in the corner of her eye. “I can’t find her in my mind. Haven’t been able to since she transformed into . . . into that thing.” She gulped and returned to her task. She plied her needle in an uneasy rhythm that matched her rocking body and her heartbeat.
Glenndon reached out for the familiar pattern of Valeria, making an effort to define the search minus the aftershadow of Lillian’s personality superimposed upon her twin.
Another cold wall of fear rose up and slammed him between the eyes. He recoiled, stumbling backward as if slapped.
“Where?” Maisy demanded.
“West and south. I can’t get a firm location. She’s too scared to let me find her.”
“Scared to thoughtlessness or scared you will find her and come after her and endanger yourself?”
“Both.”
“Glenndon, can you transport in, grab her, and get back here as fast as you can? I’m too weak and hungry to do it safely,” Da asked, clearly shaken.
“Don’t like that spell,” Maisy clucked her tongue and rocked faster. “Tricky it is. And dangerous. But sometimes . . .”
“Linda?” Glenndon asked. “How much trouble is she in? Should I go after her first?” Glenndon paused a moment to clear his thoughts of Valeria’s terror. Hard to do. Then Linda’s aura rose up bright and shiny in his mind, reassuring him of her safety. Her concern was for Valeria and what she had learned.
“Linda is on her way home with much haste. She has bad news. Her ladies come more slowly with Lillian,” he told Maisy. “Don’t let her go anywhere else when she returns.”
“Fine. I’ll have Fred meet her and escort her home. You go get your other sister,” Jaylor ordered, his voice rising to his customary roar as he grabbed a plate piled high with food from a boy in servant livery who barely had time to knock on the door before being dismissed.
“What are you waiting for, boy?” Maisy asked. Her chair rocked harder and faster. “Can’t let my little Valeria get hurt ’cause you are too timid to go rescue her.”
“Are we all your personal possessions?” he asked.
“No. You’re all my special babies. Children of Brevelan and Jaylor. The royal ones too. All my special babies. Watched over every last one of you for the Circle I did. Now git afore I take a paddle to your backside.”
“Yes, ma’am.” A half chuckle helped him clear his mind and pinpoint the source of Valeria’s fear.
A wide, grassy meadow, dry and turning brown for lack of spring rain, rolling mounds with drooping trees on the crest. Battle Mound, where he and Fred had first arrived. Row upon row of tents and armored men. . . . Where were Father’s spies? Hadn’t they watched Valeria fall into their midst?
Or maybe they hadn’t known what to do with a flying cat appearing in the sky.
Indigo, can you get me a little flaming diversion? He knew the purple-tipped dragon hadn’t taken himself very far away. He just didn’t know where his friend hid.
(I can try. Without the Tambootie my flames are weak.)
Anything you can give me will help. I just need their attention away from Valeria for ten heartbeats.
(That I can manage!)
Glenndon closed his eyes to clear his mind of everything but his memory of Battle Mound and the heart of Valeria’s fear. The moment he had a firm image of her flywacket body cringing away from something . . . awful, he sent himself to her side, one heartbeat before he left the security of the palace walls.
He opened his eyes to the reality of a large black snake, with six leathery wings, coiled and ready to strike with bared fangs that dripped venom.
A mighty roar right over the top of Valeria made the snake look upward. It hissed at the dragon-shaped shadow that flew out of the blinding glare of the sun.
A ball of flame shot downward igniting the tents and sere grass.
Men yelled and ran, arms flailing in panic.
(Run, little one, run!) Indigo called to her.
Valeria yanked her mind free of the snake’s hypnotic power.
Lyman! she screamed at her companion.
Silence. He was still enthralled by red eyes and flicking tongue.
“Valeria,” Glenndon whispered.
She forced control of the cat body away from Lyman and swiveled her head to the left despite the sharp pains down and back up her spine. There! In the shadow of the only tree within the army camp, she caught a whiff of Glenndon.
Then smoke filled her nostri
ls and near blinded her.
A wisp of air across her whiskers told her that the snake’s tongue flicked again in her direction, tasting the distance between them. The snake’s need for blood overcame its natural fear of fire. Or did it welcome the spreading flames as more fuel for its growing hunger?
She saw a ripple of muscle along its entire length.
With every bit of effort she contained she stretched her wings and used her front legs to pull her out of the snake’s reach.
Another push and she was in Glenndon’s arms.
“Stargods! When did you get so heavy?” he muttered as he staggered.
She risked a look back. The snake firmed its coils, head swaying, tongue flicking.
Easier to close her eyes than risk immobility beneath its gaze again.
Lights sparkled around her. Time stopped. Bright coils of life enfolded her even through closed eyes. They reminded her of the awful snake. She wanted to look away, find safety in cool darkness.
(Look, look carefully, my child,) a feminine voice called to her. A soft, protective voice that loved her and wished only the best for her.
She opened her mind and looked at all the lives that touched her own: Lillian in soft, velvety lavender and green, Glenndon in rich royal rose gold, Da in a braid of bright red and blue, Mama’s gold and rust and brown, Indigo in brilliant purple.
And herself.
Gentle violet shimmered around her.
(You have found your own aura, little one. Now you are ready to become yourself.)
What does that mean? I have always been myself.
(Have you truly?)
And then the world crashed around her as Glenndon crumpled to the plank flooring amid the stone walls and lush furniture of the palace.
Old Maisy caught her as she fell from her brother’s arms.
Valeria relished the security and love of the old woman for a moment, gathered strength and courage from her.
“Tells us what we need to know,” Maisy crooned to her between phrases of an old lullaby.
The one you call Lucjemm. He leads the army that will march toward the city at dawn. The snake commands him.
“I know, I know, baby. But it is not yet time to reveal this to your Da or the king.”
Who knew the old woman could be strong enough to squeeze the breath out of her?
If she bit and clawed her way free Maisy would drop her. She couldn’t risk that. No more hurts. She’d had enough of hurting.
CHAPTER 46
“GIVE IT UP OLD MAN and get out of that body! Leave it to the little one so she can heal!” Old Maisy growled through clenched teeth.
“S’murghit, Maisy, what are you doing?” Linda shouted as she dashed from the corridor into the parlor. She wrapped her hands around the old woman’s throat, pressing on her windpipe, just as she’d been taught by Fred to disable an attacker.
Old Maisy gagged and released her fierce grip on the flywacket. Glenndon dove to catch the heavy black cat. They both looked around dazed.
“What is the meaning of this?” Jaylor roared from the doorway, blocking everyone’s exit. He looked tired and drawn but alert and very angry. There were no tunnel entrances from this suite. “Maisy, you have been loyal to me and mine since before Glenndon was born,” Jaylor continued shouting. As if he didn’t care who heard.
Linda kept her hands on the old woman’s throat, but released her pressure on the vital airway. Suddenly, the seamstress who had been with the royal family for as long as she could remember deflated into a smaller woman, nearer P’pa’s age than the bossy middle-aged one she’d projected. She smelled of an exotic, aromatic spice and towering woodlands. Where had the robust, older gabble-mouth who always smelled of fabric and dyes and fresh laundry blowing in the wind gone?
Maybe Linda should ask where she had come from.
“Maisy, I’m waiting for an explanation,” Jaylor said, tapping his foot. His hands wove an intricate pattern and his fingertips began to glow.
“Valeria says there is a connection between Maisy and Lyman,” Glenndon wheezed, still lying on his back with Valeria sprawled on his chest. The huge black cat spread her front legs to encircle his neck, like a child clinging to a trusted caregiver. Something about her hind end looked wrong, and one wing drooped half-unfurled.
“Well, Maisy?” Jaylor demanded. He nodded to Linda to release her prisoner.
Reluctantly, Linda lowered her hands and stepped away from the woman. She stared at her hands in fascinated horror, wondering if she really could have taken a life. She trained nearly every day to do just that with a sword.
The purpose of her training became terribly real.
She shuddered and pushed the self-defeating loop of thoughts aside. Glenndon and Valeria needed her. She had to help them.
Maisy glanced at Jaylor from beneath lowered eyes. Linda sensed that she weighed and assessed her story even as she opened her mouth to explain herself.
“Loved the old man I did when I were young, he masquerading as a journeyman magician in Lord Jemmarc’s father’s household, when he was just a minor landholder, subject to Lord Krej. Told me his history, Lyman did. Born a dragon, living out the centuries in different bodies. Helping, he said. Giving life to children who was dying.” She paused for breath, uncharacteristically, but before anyone could interrupt the tale she continued.
“I were a serving girl with a bit of magic in me. Eyes and ears for Lord Jaylor when no one else trusted me. He was in and out of the household within days. Didn’t know why then, still don’t. But love him I did. Broke my heart he did.” She paused, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath that set her entire body trembling. Then she steadied. Her body seemed to flash into old age with twisted, arthritic fingers. “When Lord Jemmarc’s eye went a-roving, I had no reason to hold back and gave myself to him, seeing as Lyman didn’t need me no more. Never truly did.” She straightened and resumed her familiar stout figure. Who knew which illusion was true.
Linda felt deep in her gut that the ancient crone was the disguise, meant to gain sympathy for her frailty.
Cunning as a dragon, Glenndon echoed her thoughts. She probably learned that trick from Lyman.
Linda sensed that Glenndon shared his thoughts with Jaylor. The Senior Magician gave a half nod of agreement.
“What does loving an ancient magician who is really a purple-tipped dragon have to do with trying to strangle my daughter?” Jaylor asked.
Maisy’s gaze wandered around the room, fixing everywhere but on the Senior Magician. Finally she allowed her eyes to linger on Glenndon and the flywacket.
Linda knelt beside them, one more layer of protection for poor Valeria.
“I knew he’d taken up residence in little Valeria’s body. You’d recalled me to the clearing by then, to cure Glenndon’s putrid sore throat. The dragons called me they did. Said I had to cure their special golden child. They couldn’t and no one else quite knew how. Banished the fever I did but couldn’t fix his scarred throat. Took our little Linda to do that. She’s a good healer that one, needs training though. You didn’t need me to watch Jemmarc, so I gave up my son to him. Mind-blind he were as a babe. Not so sure about that now.”
She’s Lucjemm’s mother? Linda shot to Glenndon.
An interesting wrinkle.
“I knew what was happening to little Valeria. Knew by the shadows beneath her eyes. Only knew it ’cause he’d told me his history. Shapechanger and trickster as well as flitting from body to body as he needed. Knew it in my soul as well as my mind.” Maisy looked ready to shrink again. But this time defeat and disappointment weighed her down instead of illusion.
Linda ran her hand along Valeria’s spine, trying to find the source of her awkward position.
“Can you take her into your lap?” Glenndon whispered, his voice cra
cked with a suppressed cough. “She’s too heavy on my chest.”
Linda shifted to sitting cross-legged on the floor, an undignified position her mother would sorely reprimand her for. She didn’t care.
Between the two of them, she and her brother levered the huge cat body into her lap, leaving the disposition of the royal seamstress to Jaylor.
Glenndon drew three huge breaths, restoring his lungs. Then he let his eyes cross as he breathed more normally, deeply, on a count of three, until his eyes glazed in the first stage of a trance. Then he ran his hands over the black fur, not quite touching. Long strands of fur rose to meet his palm.
“At first I thanked Lyman for saving our little girl.” Maisy finally looked up into Jaylor’s face, begging him to understand her dilemma. “But then little Valeria kinda woke up and fought him for control of her mind and body. Most times she succeeded, but it cost her. You know how frail she is. You know what it costs her to work any magic at all, and she does it for both herself and her twin . . .” She stopped abruptly at the revelation of that secret.
“So that’s why . . .” Jaylor’s face lit up with understanding. “But that doesn’t explain why you tried to kill my daughter!” He stepped closer to the seamstress, eyeing the sharp scissors in her apron pocket.
“He’s too stubborn, too greedy for life. Oh, no, not Master Magician Lyman. He won’t let go of anything. Saved himself from death over a hundred times by stealing someone else’s body. Justified it by saying there was always one more chore for him, one more up and coming magician what needed mentoring, one more anything, any excuse at all not to give up and let go of this life like any respectable human. But he ain’t human. He’s a dragon. Has a different sense of time and death, he says. Knows when the time will be right and it ain’t come yet. And now he nearly got our girl killed because he wanted to fly again. Greedy old man.”
The Silent Dragon: Children of The Dragon Nimbus #1 Page 31
