The Book of Air: Volume Four of the Dragon Quartet

by Marjorie B. Kellogg

  “Hey, nah,” admonishes Luther gently. “Speekin’ evil kin bring it to ya.”

  “I think my fear of him brings him to me. But you’re right.” Chastened, Erde studies the blank building facades rising like canyon walls about them. “I’ve never seen a really big city, except Big Albin, and it was all in ruins. This isn’t the way a big city’s supposed to look?”

  The dog pack races ahead, then circles back to run ahead again. Luther watches them as they approach an intersection several blocks away. “I’m jes’ sayin’ it doan look like eny city I evah bin in. Okay, I ain’ bin ina lotta dem, but lookit dese walls, nah. No doahs or windahs? How yu gonna git inside anya dese places?”

  “It could be a fortified city.” Erde’s personal idea of a wall is tightly laid stone with only the smallest of openings, to hold in the heat and keep out the enemy. “I remember thinking in Big Albin that the dwellings were all full of holes. So many doors and windows! And such big ones. It seemed so . . . exposed, compared to what I’m used to. When you’re from a different time and place, you arrive with all sorts of different definitions and assumptions, remember. I mean, this city is probably as real to the people that live here as Big Albin is to you.”

  Luther rakes a hand through the silver forelock that falls nearly to his nose. “Yu t’ink we’ah in sum odda time agin, den?”

  “Oh, I should think so. Most assuredly. And a long way from my time, too. That’s why we felt so bad when we got here. The distance.”

  “Long wich way? Inta da fuchah, or inta da past?”

  Erde considers, then asks the dragons’ opinions.

  I CANNOT TRAVEL TO ANY TIME BEFORE MY AWAKENING. WHERE A PORTAL CAN TAKE US IS ANYONE’S GUESS. THE RULES MAY BE DIFFERENT.

  Luther shakes his head when Erde relays this. “Dis kint be da past. I ain’ no expert, but I seen pichurs.”

  “Then it’s the future.”

  “Fuchah to wat?”

  “To your time. And mine, too, of course.”

  “Dere ain’ no fuchah afta my time, gal. We’re in da lass days.”

  Now Erde must tread lightly. Among the Tinkers, Luther is one of the most devout believers in the faith that Gerrasch has been preaching. Her own and the dragons’ understanding of the situation might not completely coincide with Luther’s expectations for the world’s salvation by “the One.”

  “Perhaps the very last days will come a bit later than you’ve feared.”

  “Wize dat?”

  “Because we’re here. So there must be some future at least, after yours.” She doesn’t ask the dragons to weigh in with their ideas on this issue. She’s positive they’ll agree with her, and she knows herself well enough to admit that if she’s sure she’s right, she’ll want to push Luther until he accepts her version over his own. She really must learn to allow other people their opinions. Only a child, Erde reminds herself, assumes that its perception of the world is the only correct one.

  Still . . .

  No. Erde scolds herself and lets the subject drop.

  The dogs have stopped at the intersection up ahead. They’re milling about uncertainly while four of them search out the trail in each of the possible directions. Earth has been lagging behind as usual, so Erde welcomes the chance for him to catch up.

  Lingering at the corner, she spots something down the side street: a flick of motion, a dark shape against the bright pavement? It’s gone when she looks for it, leaving only an afterimage of memory.

  “That’s odd . . .”

  Luther’s looking in the opposite direction. “Watsit, gal?”

  “I saw . . . like a person, maybe.”

  “Yeah? Weah?”

  Erde points, down the pale, empty street. “It’s gone now.”

  “Doan worry. I’ll keep my eyes opin.”

  She lays a hand on the dragon’s claw as he looms up behind her.

  I’m sure I saw something. Someone.

  Earth rumbles comfortingly. Water has hitched a ride between his ivory horns, so that he seems to be wearing a diaphanous crown of iridescence.

  You are very quiet, dear dragon.

  I AM TROUBLED.

  WE BOTH ARE.

  Erde is impressed that Water’s voice can remain so present and coherent when her physical being is so ephemeral.

  Why?

  Earth answers reluctantly. SAY NOTHING TO LUTHER. DO YOU PROMISE?

  Yes, of course. Why? What is it?

  OUR SISTER IS HERE.

  What? Really? Are you sure?

  WE SENSE HER VERY STRONGLY.

  How wonderful! Why didn’t you say so? It’s all we’ve hoped for!

  YES.

  But the dragons are not rejoicing as she would expect them to.

  Well, where is she? Let’s go find her!

  Instinctively, she turns toward Luther.

  SAY NOTHING!

  But he’ll want to help!

  IT’S NOT THAT SIMPLE. WE KNOW SHE’S HERE, BUT WE DON’T KNOW WHERE.

  WORSE THAN THAT. IT’S AS IF SHE’S . . . EVERYWHERE. SO . . . DIFFUSE.

  But, Lady Water, so are you, and that doesn’t seem to be a problem.

  Water’s dancing motes draw closer together. IN SHAPE PERHAPS, BUT NOT IN MIND.

  Diffuse of mind. Erde tries to imagine it, but while her imagination might be far-ranging, her sense of self is very firmly rooted inside her head. Her thoughts all emanate from a central location. She watches Luther encouraging the dogs to settle on a single trail to follow.

  Can you explain this another way?

  Water’s shape shifts slightly to reflect her words. HER PRESENCE IS VERY STRONG BUT IT’S NOT . . . ORGANIZED. LIKE THE PARTS OF HER CONSCIOUSNESS HAVE BEEN SPLIT AND SCATTERED.

  Oh. Is that so dire? Dreams seem like that sometimes.

  A VERY GOOD ANALOGY.

  Down the street, Erde sees another flicker, the slightest bit of moving darkness. She decides to ignore it.

  Could she be asleep and you’re listening in on her dreams?

  WE DO NOT KNOW.

  Earth’s great head sways side to side. He’s unhappy with his own ignorance. But Lady Water, as always, has a plan.

  WE’RE WASTING TIME WANDERING ABOUT HERE AT RANDOM. WE SHOULD GO BACK, GATHER THE REST OF OUR FORCES, AND PLAN OUT A LOGICAL SEARCH.

  I DO NOT ENTIRELY AGREE, BUT NOW THAT WE’VE BEEN HERE ONCE, IT SHOULD BE EASY ENOUGH TO GET BACK AGAIN.

  Erde judges this information safe enough to relay to Luther.

  He nods, patting the dogs, who have gathered around him uneasily. “I wudn’t mind sum reinforcemints. Dis place iz creepy.”

  “What about the hounds? We can’t desert them.”

  “Bring ’em. Blin’ Rachel cud use sum gud dogs like dese.”

  As if inspired by his praise, one of the scout dogs announces a trace worth investigating. Her sharp barks bring the rest of the pack racing to confirm her discovery.

  “Look, they have the trail again!” Erde cries. “Oh, dragons, let’s stay with them a while longer! Surely we’ll find Rose and the others soon, and if anyone’s hurt, Lord Earth can help them! I know N’Doch could get into trouble away from your sensible and steadying influence. But he’s also quick and resourceful on his own.”

  IT’S PAIA THAT WE WORRY ABOUT. SHE IS THE MOST VULNERABLE.

  Erde sees she will have to beg. “Please! Just a little while more?”

  UNTIL THE NEXT TIME THEY LOSE THE SCENT.

  The pack surges ahead, as if held back until the dragons relented. But despite their high excitement, the dogs do not risk getting out of sight. They double back expectantly in twos or threes, with long loping strides and lolling tongues. Erde hurries after them. Yes, the town is creepy, but most of her deepest fears involve darkness, so it’s hard to be too afraid in the middle of an empty street in broad daylight. Still, like the dogs, she glances back. She’s left Luther and the dragons farther behind than she’d intended. She slows to wait for them, and notices a difference in the facade
s just ahead. Slight, but a point of interest in this bland landscape. One section of wall is slightly recessed, creating a band of shadow and a shallow courtyard. The recess contains a bank of windows, five tall rectangles. Intrigued by the possibility of seeing inside one of these endlessly blank buildings, Erde drifts over. But she finds the windows entirely opaque, a mere outline scratched on the solid stone.

  Except for the one in the middle.

  Erde moves closer. Here, the featureless gray is less solid, less flat. Like a very dirty window. She rubs the smooth surface gently with her palm, and the view through it does sharpen, but less because she’s cleaned it than as if her action has stirred something within, dissipating a shrouding fog. A shape appears, the hooded head and shoulders of a man. By the time she’s recognized the silhouetted profile, the figure has turned to stare at her.

  Erde shrieks.

  It’s the hell-priest. Smiling.

  She whirls away blindly, crashing into Luther who has run up at the sound of her scream. She flails in his arms, then backs against him in panic.

  “Look! Look! It’s him!”

  Luther looks. He sets her aside and goes up to the window to press his nose to the now opaque surface. “Ain’ nobuddy deah, gal. Kin’t see nuttin’. Yu say yu look’d inside heah?”

  “Yes! Yes!”

  But Luther sees nothing, and Erde begins to doubt herself. When the dragon arrives, she retreats into his shadow to find comfort in his warmth. “Am I imagining things?” But it persists, like a bad smell in the air around her, that horrid intruding presence that makes her feel dirty and violated.

  YOU ARE, BUT THEY ARE TRUE THINGS.

  “He’s here? Brother Guillemo is here?”

  NOT IN BODY, NOT YET. BUT YOU SENSE HIM WATCHING. AWAITING HIS CHANCE.

  “Even in the Mage City, he can come after me?”

  I AM RECONSIDERING MY ASSUMPTIONS ABOUT THIS PLACE.

  The weight of his tone is unusual, even for a dragon somewhat given to gloom. Erde catches her breath. “How so?”

  THIS IS CERTAINLY THE CITY THAT I SAW IN DREAMS. BUT IT MAY NOT BE WHAT I THOUGHT IT WAS. WHAT I HOPED FOR.

  The dragon’s voice in her mind is so disconsolate that Erde shoves her own terrors aside. But you must not give up that hope, dear dragon! Never!

  PERHAPS WE MUST LEARN TO GO FORWARD EVEN WITHOUT HOPE.

  There’s always hope. Probably we haven’t yet come to the part of the city where the Mages live.

  Water’s mote-cloud swells with sudden impatience, chittering like a swarm of disturbed insects.

  THERE AREN’T GOING TO BE ANY MAGES! IT’S AS I’VE SAID ALL ALONG. YOU MISTOOK THAT PART OF YOUR VISION. BUT IT DOESN’T MATTER. IT’S ENOUGH THAT YOU DREAMED THIS CITY, SO YOU’D KNOW IT WHEN YOU SAW IT THROUGH THE PORTAL. THAT’S WHAT GOT US HERE. SO STOP WORRYING ABOUT MAGES. MAGES ARE A MYTH.

  Leave him alone! Erde flings a quick glare at Water, then looks away, ashamed at having reprimanded a dragon.

  NO, LISTEN! WE ARE THE MAGES. IF OUR SISTER IS HERE, AND I’M SURE SHE IS, WE ARE THE POWERS WHO MUST SEARCH HER OUT AND FREE HER. WE CAN’T LOOK FOR ANY HELP OTHER THAN OURSELVES.

  “Dese dogs’re getting’ antsy,” Luther warns.

  “In a moment, Luther!” Erde tastes her own irritation like a mouthful of bile. She’s torn in too many directions, and feels Earth’s hurt and indecision as if it was her own.

  TIME TO MOVE. AS LONG AS WE STAY HERE, WE MUST KEEP FOCUSED AND ON THE SEARCH.

  GO SEARCH BY YOURSELF!

  BROTHER, LISTEN TO YOU!

  The big brown dragon has hunkered down stubbornly. His plated hide has lost its bronzy sheen. Erde thinks he looks like a mountain of mud.

  I NEED TIME TO CONSIDER!

  LISTEN TO ALL OF US! HOW DID WE GET SO DISAGREEABLE ALL OF A SUDDEN?

  “You mean, it’s not just me?” Erde asks.

  WE’RE PRACTICALLY DROWNING IN IT. IF IT WEREN’T FOR THE DOGS, WE’D HAVE BEEN BROUGHT TO A COMPLETE HALT WITH POINTLESS ARGUING.

  Earth lifts his head to gaze around as if to locate the source of this contagion of despair. YOU’RE RIGHT. IT IS POINTLESS.

  IT’S EXACTLY WHAT OUR BROTHER WOULD WANT—FOR US TO BE AT ODDS WITH EACH OTHER. DIVIDE AND CONQUER.

  THEN WE SHALL DENY HIM SUCH SATISFACTION.

  Earth rises out of his crouch with an alacrity that astonishes even Erde. He is a force again, a glimmering mountain rolling between the towering buildings, a crown of light between his horns. The dogs gain courage to range farther ahead, yipping and crying. Their chorus ricochets along the walls, back and forth, until the faceless blocks are alive with dog voices.

  Luther shrugs uneasily, then moves after the dragons. “If dere’s anyone about, dey shur know we’re heah.”

  Sure enough, from far off along the canyons of stone, a whistle sounds. The dogs pull up to listen. The whistle comes again.

  Luther nods. “Summun’s callin’ ’em.”

  “But who? Oh! It could only be . . .” Erde plunges forward as the dogs streak away after the call. “Wait! Don’t run away! We’ll never find you!”

  As if they’ve understood every word, half the pack splits off and circles back, dancing and bounding with impatience at the glacial pace of the dragons and humans hurrying after them.

  They are led down a long, straight roadway, discovering occasional evidence of the passage of other animals. Erde finds this soiling of the perfect streets very cheering. Signs of earth, signs of life, in a lifeless city. Hope warms her heart again. She’d been lacking it so desperately. How clever of Lady Water to recognize this dark disabling mood, and alert them in time.

  The dog pack wheels right, into a district of narrower streets and rougher pavements. The trail grows crooked, evasive. It curves and crinks and cuts aside here and there at sharp angles, where buildings have been placed oddly, in the middle of a road. The light is dim, and the shadows deeper. Erde shivers. Is she belatedly feeling the effects of the transport, or is simple exhaustion confusing her perception? Several times, a street that has seemed clear and open is abruptly a dead end, with a hidden escape leading off at a sharp angle, barely wide enough for the dragon to pass.

  “This is a mysterious sort of place,” she murmurs. “it’s like a maze or something.”

  Earth complains that he’s scraping his hide against rough walls on both sides.

  Luther drags his hand along the face of a building. “Dis look like old stone, nah. Da reel t’ing. Not like before.”

  Erde agrees. The city does feel more like a real place here, more rough-hewn, less impossibly perfect. More like the towns she knows from her own life. The doors and windows are smaller. Because they seem more real, they frighten her. Out of any one of them, after all, might spring the hell-priest. And in the confines of these torturous alleys, there’d be no escape.

  What am I thinking? I have two dragons and a strong man beside me! The despair has crept back to wind itself around her like a rampant vine. Erde rips it loose, resolving to resist it. As she makes this promise, the twining streets seem to open out. The hard edge of the shadows eases. There is moisture in the air, where she had noticed none before. She can breathe again.

  “Phew!” Luther mutters. “Das bettah!”

  “You felt it, too?”

  “Wat’s dat, nah?”

  “The despair again. Closing in.”

  “Guez I did, den,” he replies thoughtfully. “Gotta keep da fait’.”

  “Yes. I shall have to be more vigilant.”

  WE MUST ALL BE.

  UH-OH . . .

  Erde wonders at Water’s tone—half alarmed, half ironical—but not for long. Paying such alert attention to their emotional states has disabled their external awareness. They have come into a surprise cul-de-sac where the only way out seems to be the way they came in. They’re surrounded by high curved walls, like the walls of a castle yard. Dark water drips from between the huge dry-laid blocks, striping the stone with moss and green slime. I
n the silence, Erde hears it flowing into the drainage well in the center of the courtyard. It seems to fall a very long way before it hits the surface of the water below.

  “Outa heah, quick-like!” Luther turns, then freezes. The big knife he carries is already in his hand.

  Blocking their escape are two scruffy, grim-faced archers and a pack of alert and snarling dogs. Erde is sure they’ve been betrayed. But she can’t imagine how she could mistake the hell-priest’s hounds for the dogs of Deep Moor. Then she feels Earth’s dragon laugh gently rock the ground.

  “Margit? Lily?” She barely knows them through the dirt and blood darkening their faces. She races to embrace them, but is stopped by their raised and loaded bows. “It’s me, Erde!”

  “Prove it,” growls Margit, squint-eyed over the shaft of her arrow.

  “What? Have I changed so much?”

  “Not enough, is more like it,” Lily calls. “We need to know it’s really you!”

  They’re both much gaunter than Erde remembers, with a cruel angle of hardship and suffering in their shoulders that was not there before.

  “Of course, it’s me! Who else do you know who travels with dragons?”

  “What dragons?”

  Erde gapes at them. She can understand them not knowing Water for a dragon, but they’d have to be blind to miss Earth, with the size he’s grown to. But when she turns to point him out, she sees he’s stilled himself and gone invisible. No wonder.

  I think you must show yourself, dragon, before these good women will believe me.

  Earth agrees, and flicks back into visibility.

  Lily lets out her breath and lowers her bow. “Erde? Is it really you?”

  Margit looks Luther over carefully. “Who’s this one? Another dragon?”

  “This is Luther, who came along to help me.”

  At last, Margit eases back on her bowstring. This releases the dogs, who bound about in animal joy, untouched by whatever horror has darkened the lives of the two brave scouts. Their tunics and riding leathers are in tatters. Margit’s gold-red braids, her glory, are dull and streaked with gray. Lily’s head is bound with a stained linen bandage and a livid scar crawls down one side of her face.

  “You both look awful!” Erde blurts.

  “Well, thanks for that high compliment.” A brief flash of tooth hints at Margit’s old ironical grin. “We’ve seen some strange things since we’ve been in this demon-ridden hellhole. How did you get here?”