Tab jumped to her feet. Fontagu grabbed her wrist. ‘Where are you going?’
‘We can't leave here,’ she said. ‘That will only take us further away from Tattoo's world. She has to go home.’
Fontagu held on tight. ‘We can make a lovely home right here. We'll get some nice fresh straw. You can brush her twice a day.’
‘Let go of me!’ Tab struggled against him.
‘And oats for her to eat. Yum, yum. She'll learn to love it. You watch. So much nicer than some nasty old desert,’ he wheedled.
Tab wrenched her hand away and sprinted for the door. She threw it open and looked up. She could hear Tibbid's cries ringing through the streets, urging people to return to their homes and to brace themselves for the coming tumult as the city neared a vortex.
Tab thrust both hands out, steadying herself in the doorway, hardly daring to look, but unable to look away. The sky was undulating, swollen in ugly yellows and greys, like an old bruise. Clouds roiled and a series of deafening peals of thunder shook the ground. The sails bulged, deflated and bulged again.
The sky seemed to spin faster, but it was Quentaris that was spinning, twisting and plummeting through the vortex. The timber shuddered under her hands. The sky was a blur now. Her head whirled. Her stomach heaved and churned.
She cast her eyes skyward one more time, and this time Quentaris pitched. Tab saw through the spinning vortex to the calm skies they were leaving behind. The sky-traders’ city skimmed on the edge of the vortex like a stone skipping across the top of a pond.
Why aren't they following us in? she wondered.
Then, for just a few seconds, Tab saw her friend, Melprin, straight as an arrow, dive-bombing the city, wrenching sails and rigging in her huge talons, throwing them out into the open sky or deep into the mouth of the vortex. With a bellow of fury the dragon tore away one of the smaller masts and thrust it through one of the buildings like a javelin. The sky-traders’ city listed and Tab could see one of her propellers hanging askew.
They couldn't follow even if they wanted to. The dragon had cast them adrift.
Tab held her breath, waiting for Melprin to pull back, to turn, to follow Quentaris into the vortex, but she was in a frenzy of destruction. Tab gripped the doorframe tighter still, until her knuckles were white. She was awed by the power of the dragon, the grace of her fury.
Tab's guilt and regret washed over her. It was her fault the dragon had lost her egg. Melprin had saved her again and again. If they left her behind Tab could never make it up to her.
The Roofie's Find
Captain Verris frowned as he strode along the parapet, swivelling his head this way and that, barking out commands. Various guards approached to deliver reports or send messages. High above them the skysailors scampered about the rigging, shouting orders to each other. Storm's City Watch jogged through the streets in formation, arms at the ready, rounding up the last of the sky-traders left in the city after the fracas.
Most Quentarans stayed in their homes, peeking through windows and out of doors, waiting for word that the coast was clear. Others had already emerged and now stood at the City Wall peering over the edge, trying to catch a glimpse of the new world below. Earlier, Tab herself had taken a brief glimpse at the mountain range spread untidily beneath them like a rumpled sack.
Tab ran beside Verris, struggling to keep up. She was puffing, and on the verge of tears. She had already tried talking to Storm, to Chief Navigator Stelka, even to Captain Bellgard, but nobody was listening. It had been hours since they had come out of the vortex. She had returned to Verris once more. Someone had to hear her sooner or later, and it seemed to Tab that Verris was her best bet.
‘We have to go back. Why won't you believe me? Tattoo has to return to her world. Now! Quickly! While we know the vortex is still there.’
It had crossed Tab's mind that the navigators might not be able to find the vortex again, that it would disappear like others had in the past, and then they would be stuck. Tattoo would be trapped here, and Melprin would be trapped there.
Chances were that the dragon would tire. The rage that fuelled her would fade away. The sky-traders would defeat her eventually. What would they do to her? Chain her up and keep her below decks? Starve her to keep her weak? Worse? Just the thought of it created a great big lump in Tab's throat, as if she had swallowed an apple whole.
Captain Verris stopped suddenly and turned on his heel. Tab ran into him. ‘Oof ! Sorry,’ she mumbled, embarrassed.
He put his hands on her shoulders. ‘Tab, I'm busy right now. We have no idea where we are, or what threats may face us. Can't you see that we have to prepare the city? If we go back we will have to face the sky-traders again, and who knows? Maybe Tolrush will have caught up with us by then. Do you see? We can't go back. I know you are worried about your little pony, but everybody is working together for once. Everyone except you.’
‘My little pony!’ she spluttered. ‘Didn't you hear what I said? The sky-traders attacked Quentaris over “my little pony”.’
‘We don't know that for sure,’ Verris interrupted. ‘You said yourself they had been planning it from the beginning.’
‘But Fontagu …’ she began.
Verris waved his arm dismissively. ‘Yes, yes. You said. Fontagu's evil scheme to trade in the elixir of youth.’ He sighed. ‘When you get as old as I am you will find that a lot of people think they have found the key to eternal life, and even more people are foolish enough to pay them for it. Let me give you a little tip, my young friend.’ He leaned in closer to her. ‘Live well today.’
‘But it's true!’ she protested.
‘All right!’ He held both his hands up. ‘Go! Bring this pony of yours to me. Prove it!’
Tab let out her breath in a whoosh. ‘Thank you!’
She swung around and sprinted back the way she had come, back through the streets and alleys to the slaughterhouse.
When she arrived the door was ajar. Tab leaned against the outside wall catching her breath. Odd, she thought. Fontagu wouldn't risk anyone looking in. Something was wrong.
She peeked through the door. Fontagu lay flat on his back on the floor. His cloak had ridden up and Tab could see his long, scrawny legs. She crept inside warily, but couldn't see anyone else. The stable was empty. ‘Tattoo?’ she called out. She closed her eyes and reached out with her mind, but all she heard were panicked birds and rats, and a few pets in surrounding houses. The equen queen was not nearby.
‘Fontagu?’ Tab leaned over, poking him in the chest experimentally with her toe.
Suddenly Fontagu awoke with a snort and Tab jumped back, letting out a little shriek.
‘Attacked,’ he mumbled. ‘Monster. A giant. Tall as two men. Must have had six axes, at least. A great club hanging from his belt. Foul breath.’
‘What happened to Tattoo?’ she asked.
Fontagu sat up slowly, feeling his skull, and looking at his fingers, as though he expected to see blood. He looked over at the empty stable and pursed his lips. ‘Stolen!’ Then he sighed. ‘Probably in a pie by now. Still, I am lucky that the beast spared my life.’
‘Which way did he go?’ Tab asked.
Fontagu stared at her. ‘Didn't you hear what I said? I was ambushed! He came up behind me, and whack! Down I went. Coward. I didn't see which way he went.’
‘You didn't see? I thought you said it was a giant beast with six axes,’ Tab said.
Fontagu put a hand on his chest. ‘I could have been murdered!’
Tab jumped up and jogged to the door.
‘Where are you going?’ Fontagu scrambled after her.
‘Back to the council,’ she called over her shoulder.
‘Don't leave me here! What if he comes back?’ He stood, brushing himself off. ‘I'm coming with you.’
‘I thought you were almost mortally wounded,’ Tab said, looking him up and down.
‘The equen must have healed me before she left,’ he explained as the two hurried through th
e streets towards the Archon's Palace.
Tab smiled to herself. She had been running around Quentaris all day, and if there had been a giant monster wielding six axes she would have seen it, or heard someone talking about it. On the other hand, a man slightly taller than Fontagu with one axe, whom had merely startled Fontagu into a faint, could move around Quentaris entirely unremarked upon.
Normally when Tab walked down the dim stone corridor to the throne room she could hear voices echoing off the cold walls inside the chamber, but today it was silent. She had almost decided that the throne room was empty. But when she inched the heavy, wooden door open, she saw the council sitting around the great table.
Standing to one side was a slender man whose name Tab didn't know, although he looked faintly familiar to her.
In the middle of the table was an oval object. At first Tab thought it was a hooey ball, but then her heart skipped in her chest. It looked just like Melprin's egg!
‘How in the name of the odd gods?’ Tab began. Then she realised where she had seen the slender man before. He was the roofie with the lute she had heard singing to his friends as she rushed up the stairs to Melprin's tower. He must have heard Melprin crashing through the wall of the tower. He would have been underneath them when they were flying. He must have caught the egg when it fell from Tab's arms.
On the table Melprin's egg quivered and then was still. There was a definite smell coming from it – a hot, acrid, sulphurous smell.
‘How long did you say it's been doing that for?’ Chief Navigator Stelka asked, gripping the edge of the table.
The roofie bit his lip. ‘Just after we emerged from the vortex, I think. I was a little bit distracted before that, with the fighting and everything.’
The egg cracked a little – a hairline, right across the top, and the members of the council pushed their chairs back from the table.
‘And the city dragonkeeper is… ’ Bellgard began.
‘I … I thought it was purely a ceremonial role,’ Florian stuttered.
‘You're the city's dragonkeeper?’ Storm asked.
‘No. Well … I hold the amulet of the dragonkeeper, but you can have it back. I don't think anyone expected me to take care of a real one!’
‘Does anybody have any idea what a baby dragon eats?’ Verris asked, looking around the table.
‘Limbs would be my guess.’ Tash Morley laughed, but it was a shrill, panicky sound.
The egg cracked a little more and a hot, metallic odour emerged from it in a steamy waft. It smelled like the smithy's furnace. The council members pushed their chairs back a little more.
‘I suppose I could convince Vrod to give up his store of spoiled boingy deer meat,’ Verris mused aloud. ‘Can your magicians contain it? Mesmerise it somehow?’
Stelka shook her head. ‘I don't know. Perhaps for a short while. You must understand that we have focused all our efforts on navigation. Many of the other crafts have been overlooked. There would be something in the ancient texts, surely, but it would take time.’
‘I vote we throw it over the edge,’ Florian said. ‘Now!’
‘How do you abandon something that has wings and a strong sense of smell?’ Storm asked him. ‘It will come after us!’
‘Then lock it in the dungeon!’ Tash Morley implored. The egg rolled on its side towards him, trailing smoke. He shrieked and drew back.
‘For how long? It's a dragon! Who knows what it can do? You want an orphaned, angry dragon soaring around Quentaris?’ Florian asked, edging further backwards.
‘Then what would you have us do?’ Stelka snapped. ‘I have no idea how long these things take to mature. Do you? It might hatch fully fledged. It could be a tantrum-throwing toddler for fifty years – maybe a hundred! We could be plagued by this thing for generations.’
Around the table, members of the council nodded solemnly.
‘Maybe Tab should take it,’ Florian suggested. ‘She's supposed to be able to talk to it, isn't she?’
Verris said, ‘The dragon needs a parent. We have no choice. We go back.’ His eyes settled on Tab's face for a second and he winked. ‘The first person to disagree can take this egg home with them.’ He fixed the council with a stony glare. None challenged him. Their eyes were glued to the egg.
In the Dungeon
Tab was in the dungeon when they crossed the vortex the second time. For a while she slept, and then she had been staring at the egg, watching it quiver and roll across the floor, trailing a waft of pungent smoke like a church incense burner. She had tried covering it with a dirty, old blanket she found, but the fabric began to smoulder, and filled the cell with acrid smoke, so she took it off again. She was afraid of what would happen when the egg finally opened, but for the time being, at least she could warm her hands by it.
Soon the dungeon bars started to vibrate and the ground shuddered. She clung to the metal shafts in the doorway, imagining the whole city collapsing on top of her, crushing her into shredded meat.
Low cries and grunts came from nearby cells as the turbulence tossed the other prisoners around in their cells. The egg rolled toward her and Tab held it steady with one hand, ignoring the burning sensation. It was preferable to having the egg smash against the wall, releasing a disoriented, frightened baby dragon in a small space.
After a while the trembling stopped. Tab let go of the egg, leaned her back against the bars and waited. Other prisoners called out to each other. From their conversation Tab guessed they must have been the sky-traders that Storm and her City Watch had rounded up after the previous vortex-jump.
Tab took out her Loraskian mood stone and turned it over in her hand. It seemed cloudier than it had been before, but it could have been the light.
Soon she heard footsteps coming down the stairs – too light and quick to be the prison guards, and too soon to be conquering sky-traders. She dared hope it was her friends and was delighted when they called out to her.
‘I can't believe it's you!’ Tab thrust her hands through the bars and Philmon and Amelia grabbed one each.
‘You must be starving! We brought you some bread and cheese.’ Amelia pushed a muslin-wrapped package between the bars.
Tab rocked back on her heels and loosened the cloth quickly, tearing great chunks of bread. She took the canteen from Philmon's outstretched hand and poured the water into her mouth.
Amelia and Philmon told her about their adventures fighting with the sky-traders, how Amelia had protected the Archon's Palace, holding the wall in place with her skills in levitation when the fortifications were almost breached, about their trip back through the vortex, and about what awaited them on the other side – not one, but two sky-cities!
‘Tolrush?’ Tab asked, wide-eyed. Quentaris had left her enemy city behind not long ago. As Verris had reminded her, it was only a matter of time before Tolrush found them.
‘No, it's a new city,’ Amelia answered. ‘It's huge.’
She told Tab about the enormous battle city bound by metal and studs. Of colossal, robed soldiers, with dome-shaped helmets easily seen with the naked eye, even from this distance, how they could hear the drums pounding, punctuating the soldiers’ training drills, and intricate ceremonies with coloured flares.
‘The sky-traders are sending up flares in answer, but we don't know what they mean. They are both just floating there at the moment, but there's a new battle in the air,’ Philmon added. ‘You can feel it.’
Tab took out her mood stone again, and her friends followed suit. The gems were definitely darker and cloudier than they had been, although it was hard to make out the colour in the dingy light.
‘Must be the Loraskians,’ Tab mused tucking her gem back into her pocket.
Then Tab remembered seeing Torby. So much had happened that she hadn't had a chance to tell her friends how she had seen him in the window and how he had sent down a gust of wind like a hug. ‘Stelka seems to think we would be a distraction to him, but I don't know. If I was sick I'd want to know th
at someone out there cared about me getting better.’
Amelia and Philmon promised to go past the window when they could, in case Torby was looking out again.
‘And Melprin?’ Tab asked between mouthfuls.
‘She's made a real mess of the sky-traders’ city,’ Philmon said, grinning. ‘You should see it! Their sails are torn, masts are down, buildings are rubble.’
‘But where is she?’ Tab asked.
Amelia shook her head. ‘Nobody has seen her.’
All their eyes turned towards the egg.
‘What are you going to do?’ Amelia asked.
Tab sighed. ‘The council believes that when it hatches I'll be able to talk to it, or maybe meld with it to calm it down, but I'm not sure if I can. I only know one dragon, and she isn't like a cow, or a rat, she's …’ Tab trailed off. ‘I can't explain it, but it doesn't work that way.’
‘Nice friends you've got – throwing you in here as if you were a crook,’ Philmon observed.
Tab said nothing. It was not so long ago that she was just a dung brigader. The only reason she was useful to the council was her powers. If she could subdue the hatchling, well and good. If not, she was disposable anyway.
Better the dragon remain enclosed in a dungeon than out on the city streets causing havoc.
‘Maybe it will bond with you? Maybe it will think you are its mother?’ Philmon whispered.
Amelia thumped her cousin's arm. ‘It's not a chicken, Philmon!’ She turned to Tab. ‘I could stay here with you,’ she offered.
Tab smiled gratefully. ‘That's really nice of you, but there's no use us both getting scorched. Has anyone seen Fontagu, or Tattoo?’
‘Tattoo?’ Philmon asked, frowning.
‘The equen qu …’ Tab began, but then she remembered where she was, with all those sky-traders in the cells around her. ‘You know, the pony from the sky-traders,’ she murmured.
The Equen Queen Page 5
