Eona: The Last Dragoneye e-2

by Alison Goodman

  The pearl! A cold wash of understanding broke through the thrumming in my head. I snatched my hand back. With all my strength, I pushed Kygo away.

  He staggered back. “What are you doing?”

  I groped for a way to stop the confusion in his eyes. A reason that was not the pearl. “It’s the dragons.”

  His confusion snapped into something more savage. “Is it? Or is it Ido?”

  A sound from farther up the track wrenched us both around:

  Yuso and Ryko, their guilty withdrawal making it obvious they had witnessed more than the last few moments. I turned and ran down the track toward the village, the muffled thud of my footsteps sending wisps of ash into the heavy air.

  In the last of the daylight, Vida and I sat silently on the seawall and watched the arrival of Master Tozay’s boat. It was an ocean junk with three lugsails, the horizontal bamboo battens across the sailcloth like the ribs of a folding fan. The white painted eyes on its prow — eerily lit by the lanterns on deck — stared at me with flat accusation. Silhouettes on board darted to and fro with the business of anchoring. I kept my gaze fixed on the three small figures at the front. Was one of them my mother, straining to see if I waited on the beach?

  “Are you ready, my lady?” Vida asked, pushing herself off the low stone wall. “My father will want to turn on the high tide. The more distance we can put between us and the cyclone, the better.”

  Was I ready? We had at least four days ahead on the boat as we rounded the Dragon’s Belly — the large mass of land in the southeast — to reach the rendezvous in the east. Four days with a mother I had not seen for ten years, two powerful men who hated each other, and friends who did not trust me. I turned to watch the trail of lanterns heading up the east cliffs: the villagers were shifting their lives into the nearby caves. Weathering a deadly cyclone and a vengeful army in a network of dark, dank caverns seemed far less daunting than the boat journey ahead.

  A splash brought my attention back to the junk. A small tender had been lowered over the side. Four figures climbed down a rope ladder into the vessel and pushed off, an oarsman pulling strongly toward shore. None of the silhouettes looked like a woman.

  Kygo and Elder Rito stepped down on to the beach, the rest of our troop gathering behind them. Beyond them, two men shoved Lord Ido onto his knees in the sand. Kygo called Dela to him and gave her low-voiced instructions that sent her heading toward us. She trod heavily across the sand, part of the right side of her face bandaged; a sword had sliced her cheek open and taken off half her ear.

  She bowed. “His Majesty commands the presence of his Naiso.”

  As she raised her head, I saw the mute apology in her eyes. For a moment I could not understand her guilt, then I remembered the small bathhouse betrayal orchestrated between her and Vida. It seemed distant and pale in comparison to what had happened on the beach.

  I stood and gently squeezed her shoulder, feeling the tension in her body ease a notch. “How are you, Dela? Vida tells me it is a nasty wound.”

  She touched the tight bandage. “It is not going to help my good looks.” Although trying for lightness, her tone rang hollow. With a quick glance behind us, she pushed something into my hand: the small leather pouch that held my ancestors’ death plaques. “You should take these for now.” A shake of her head curbed my protest. “They are the only things your mother gave you. You should be carrying them when you meet. Show her you never forgot.” She leaned closer, her voice lowering. “Maybe she will know more about your ancestress.”

  Reluctantly, I took the pouch and slid it into my tunic pocket. Wrapped in leather and hidden away, Kinra’s plaque posed no real threat. Still, it made me uneasy to carry it.

  Dela patted my hand. “Come. His Majesty is waiting and he is not happy.”

  “I can imagine,” I muttered, and led the way back across the sand.

  As we approached, Kygo’s eyes stayed steadfastly on the approaching boat. Ido, however, kept his gaze on me. He had been bound again, this time with his hands behind his back and, judging by the awkward shifts of his shoulders, as painfully as possible — a deliberate show that Lord Ido and his power were still under the control of the Emperor. And perhaps Kygo was not above some private malice, too.

  Forcing myself to ignore Ido, I bowed to Kygo, but he gave no flicker of acknowledgment. I took my position at his left shoulder. The tender bumped into the rise of the shore, and all four occupants vaulted out, grabbing the edges and pulling it on to the beach. The solid, stocky shape of Master Tozay strode across the sand, flanked by two other seamen. The fourth man stayed beside the beached boat.

  Tozay’s pace increased, pulling him away from his men.

  Anxiously, he scanned the people behind us. I saw the moment he found Vida: his stern features softened, and his head bowed in relief, or maybe in a prayer of thanks. With a small nod to her, he continued toward us, his men at his side again. They dropped to their knees in the sand and bowed.

  “Rise, Master Tozay,” Kygo said. “You are indeed welcome.”

  Tozay sat back on his heels. “We were not sure what to expect, Your Majesty. We saw the fireball.”

  “An opportunistic betrayal that Lady Eona and Lord Ido quashed,” Kygo said. “Together.” Beyond its surface meaning, the single word clearly had some other importance between the two men.

  Tozay took in the Dragoneye’s kneeling, bound constraint. “I see,” he said dryly. “And will Lord Ido require separate, lockable quarters, Your Majesty?”

  “Yes,” Kygo said shortly.

  I cleared my throat, the sound turning Kygo’s face toward me, eyes narrowed. Did he think I was going to intercede on Ido’s behalf?

  “Is my mother on board, Master Tozay?” I asked quickly. “Is she all right?”

  Tozay bobbed his head. “Your mother is well, Lady Eona. She awaits your arrival eagerly.” He glanced back at his ship. “If you please, Your Majesty, we must make a move if we are to sail on this high tide.”

  The man waiting with the tender bowed as Kygo, Tozay, and I approached. Kygo stepped into the small boat first, taking the stern seat. Tozay took my hand and helped me on board, the pressure of his hold directing me to the prow seat. He sprang in nimbly between us and took the oars as his men pushed us out into the water. With his strong strokes we were soon midway between shore and ship, a cooler sea breeze diluting the smell of burnt death that drifted from the land. “What news?” Kygo said.

  Tozay glanced back at me.

  “You can speak freely,” Kygo said. “Lady Eona is now aware of the major part she will be playing in the events to come.” We stared at each other: it was no small thing for him to trust me with whatever Tozay had to report. “Lady Eona is now my Naiso,” Kygo added. His words felt like an apology and an absolution, all in one.

  I caught the quick lift of Tozay’s eyebrows as he turned back to his rowing. “We’ve had more reports of land disasters— floods, earthshakes, mudslides — particularly in the south and west regions.”

  I looked up at the darkening sky, the wheel and dip of a few white gulls bright against the heavy clouds. It made grim sense; all of the dragons connected to the pure south and west compass points were in exile, whereas the easterly and northern compass points still had the presence of the Mirror Dragon and the Rat Dragon to create some balance in the earth energy. Not a lot of balance, though, and not for long if Ido’s judgment about the decline of our power was correct. Surely he would have known that killing the other Dragoneyes would create this turmoil.

  “The tavern whispers are getting louder in their call for the Right of Ill Fortune,” Tozay added. “We are getting some good recruits.”

  I straightened on the hard bench. The Right of Ill Fortune proclaimed that an emperor whose reign was besieged by too many earth/water disasters could be denounced by the people and replaced with a ruler who was favored by the gods. A way to end Sethon’s reign without war.

  “The whispers are not loud enough, nor quick e
nough,” Kygo said, squashing my hope. “If my uncle would not honor Rightful Claim, he would certainly quell any attempt at Ill Fortune. Still, such unease will work for us. The people are beginning to realize that he does not have the good will of either the gods or the last two Dragoneyes.” His eyes flicked to me then back to Tozay. “What news of my uncle’s progress?”

  “The lure is working, Your Majesty. Sethon is personally marching his men to the east at a punishing pace for the final strike. The numbers, however, will be bigger than we anticipated.”

  “How much bigger?”

  For a few moments there was just the rhythmic splash of oars and the slap of waves against the prow. “My spies estimate at least fifteen thousand,” Tozay said.

  I pressed my hand over my mouth. Fifteen thousand soldiers? Were Ido and I expected to kill so many? The cold sensation of killing four hundred a few hours ago slid down my spine.

  Kygo’s silence was eloquent. “Has he drawn from his other battalions?” he finally asked.

  Tozay shook his head. “No. Mercenaries.”

  Kygo blew out a long breath. “It is not as good as him weakening his other forces, but it is better than an alliance. And bringing in paid foreigners will not endear him to the people, either.”

  Tozay snorted. “Sethon has never sought the Hua-do in any way.”

  Kygo tilted his head in agreement. “Is the east preparing? Stripping the land?”

  “There is not much to strip after five hundred years without a dragon’s blessing. But all is being done as you ordered,” Tozay said. “There will be no food for his men. The tribes are preparing maps and scouting enclosed ground.”

  “Enclosed ground?” I asked.

  “Areas that are reached through narrow gorges and paths,” Kygo said. “It is where a small number can attack a large.”

  I leaned forward. “How small is our number, exactly?”

  Kygo shot a glance at Tozay.

  “We are four and half thousand,” the master fisherman said. “And two Dragoneyes.”

  I licked my lips. “I don’t know if even Ido will kill fifteen thousand men,” I said.

  Tozay stopped rowing, and looked over his shoulder at me. “He will if you compel him.”

  I swallowed the dryness in my throat. “What if I don’t?”

  Tozay’s face hardened. “Lady Eona, when you stepped into my boat with the palace in flames behind us, you told me you wanted to join the resistance. What did you think you would be doing?” He glanced at the burned hillside. “Quickening crops?”

  “Enough, Tozay.” Kygo’s voice snapped with command. “The Covenant of Service was put in place for a reason. It is better if Lady Eona finds it hard to break than if she does not. We don’t want another power-hungry Dragoneye like Lord Ido, do we?”

  I stiffened at the edge in his voice. Perhaps I was not completely absolved.

  The master fisherman turned and began rowing again. The hull of the junk loomed ahead of us, one round painted eye watching our approach like a startled horse. I pressed my hands together, the grim war-mongering temporarily pushed back by the impending reunion with my mother.

  “What is she like, Master Tozay?” I asked, breaking the heavy silence. “My mother, I mean. Has she said anything about me?”

  “Lillia does not talk much,” Tozay said gruffly. “But you are the image of her in face and body.” He heaved once more on the oars, the impetus taking us to the side of the junk and the rope ladder. “You will see for yourself in a moment or two.”

  I craned back my head to look at the people watching over the raised side of the deck. The ship lanterns behind them cast their figures into silhouette and hid the details of face and form from me. There was, however, one small, slender shape mirroring my intense search.

  A sailor quickly descended the ladder and landed lightly in the boat, his deferential bow rocking us to and fro. He took charge of the oars as Kygo mounted the ladder, all the people disappearing from the side as the emperor stepped on board. I followed, with Tozay close behind. The swinging, jolting journey up the wood rungs was, I’m sure, only a few moments, but it felt like a full bell.

  Strong hands pulled me up onto the solid deck. I caught a quick image of rough faces and weathered skin before everyone lowered into bows before the Lady Dragoneye. Three rows of men — and one female figure — on their knees, heads bent, waiting for me to release them.

  “Rise,” I said, my voice cracking.

  As Lillia sat back, our eyes met. I saw fear and hope and a strained smile that held ten years of loss. Tozay was right: we were the image of each other.

  Lillia pressed herself against the bulkhead as the deck-boy set a tray down on the fixed table in Master Tozay’s command cabin. The master fisherman had ushered Lillia and me to its spacious privacy once everyone else was on board, calling for tea as he led us down to the mid-deck. We had passed the locked compartment where Lord Ido was already incarcerated, the guard dipping into a duty bow and flattening himself back against the door as we made our way along the narrow passage. Tozay had glanced back at me, watching my reaction. Perhaps he thought I would wrench the door open and release the Dragoneye.

  “Sir.” The deck-boy’s agonized whisper was loud in the thick silence that had descended across the command cabin. “I have forgotten the hot water.”

  Master Tozay jerked his head toward the hatchway. “Be quick.”

  I picked up one of the nautical instruments from the lipped shelf behind me. It was a brass compass of some sort, its dial gleaming in the extravagant glow of the three large wall lanterns lighting the cabin. I turned it over and over in my hands, glad to have somewhere to focus. Even through my unease, it was occurring to me that Master Tozay was not quite the simple fisherman turned resistance fighter that he professed to be. He cleared away the star charts spread across the table, his pace quickening as neither Lillia nor I made any move to speak. The boy returned, hurriedly mixed tea and retrieved water together, and with a bow backed out of the cabin.

  “I will leave you two alone, my lady, to get acquainted,” Master Tozay said, slipping the last scroll into one of the neat slots built into the bulkhead. He glanced across at Lillia’s downturned face and clasped hands. A quick bow, and the door closed behind him.

  Above us came the calls and creaks of the junk getting under way. I returned the instrument to the shelf.

  “May I pour you some tea?” I asked.

  She finally looked up. Although the weight of time had softened the taut lines of her face, it was more or less the same oval as my own. Perhaps her chin was less stubbornly set and her nose longer, but her mouth had my upward tilt and her eyes the same wide cast. I knew the expression on her face, too. I had worn it many times myself — an overly courteous mask designed to avoid irritating a master or mistress.

  “No, please, allow me, my lady,” she said and crossed to the table. She picked up the brewing dish, deftly pouring a measure into the first bowl.

  I chewed my lip. She could not seem to scale the mountain of my rank. “Thank you,” I said — then took a breath and climbed my own mountain. “Mother.”

  Her hand shook, spilling some of the tea onto the table. Slowly she placed the brewing dish down, carefully cupped the first bowl, and carried it to me. With a bow, she held it out. As I reached, we both paused, staring down at the meeting of our hands. Both were long-fingered, with a thumb almost at right angles.

  “We have the same hands,” I said, wincing at my too-bright tone as I took the bowl.

  “They were my mother’s hands, too,” she said softly. She chanced a fleeting look up at me. “Charra. Your grandmother.”

  “Charra? I have her death plaque.”

  “You still have it?”

  I silently thanked Dela. “Yes, and the other one, too.”

  My mother caught the emphasis and looked away. She knew something about Kinra.

  I placed the bowl on the table and retrieved my leather pouch, upending it. The two
plaques slipped out onto my palm. With a shaking forefinger, Lillia touched Charra’s memorial, then pulled out a worn cloth bag that hung on a string around her neck. She opened it and withdrew another death plaque, a replica of Charra’s.

  “I had two made when my dear mother died — may she walk in the garden of the gods,” she said. “I knew he wanted to get rid of you as soon as she died. I had to give you a link to your family. To me.” She stroked the plaque again. “He was afraid of Charra.”

  A sour lump formed in my throat. “Do you mean my father?”

  Lillia gave a strained laugh. “No, not your dear father. Charra loved him as if he was her own. No, he died — drowned in the terrible Pig Year storms. Do you not remember?”

  I shook my head, and pain crossed her face.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I do not remember much at all.”

  “I suppose it is to be expected. You were only four when he joined the glory of his ancestors. I married another man, a year after.” She studied me. “You do not remember your stepfather, either? Or what happened?”

  “No.”

  “Probably a good thing,” she said grimly. “He said he’d provide for all of us — you, me, your brother, even Charra — but when things got hard, he said he would not keep another man’s useless daughter. It was enough, he said, to raise another man’s son. He sold you to a bondsman.”

  “Why did you let him?” The question came out too harshly.

  “‘Let him’?” She frowned, puzzled. “He was my husband. How could I gainsay him?”

  “Did you even try?”

  I would have fought for my daughter. I would have fought as hard as possible.

  She turned her head away from the veiled accusation. “I begged the bondsman to sell you into house service.” Her voice dropped into a whisper. “Did he?”

  “Yes.” It was partly true — I did start off in the salt farmer’s house as one of the kitchen drudges — but what would be the use of telling her the whole story? The farmer’s wife who eventually sent us all to the salt when her husband noticed us, and the choking misery of the long days, and the nights spent with breaths held, listening for the tread of the whipmaster.