Mistress of Dragons

by Margaret Weis

  Wrapping himself in his blanket, Draconas laid down on the grass near the dwindling fire and shut his eyes, hoping the king would heed his own counsel and remain silent. Edward sat staring into the dying fire, silent and pensive, his thoughts turned inward, for which Draconas was grateful. He was thinking he should have another mental talk with Braun. They now had proof that Maristara had given humans the forbidden gift— dragon magic. And that these humans were no longer being kept cloistered in Seth. They were being sent out to hunt him. What is Maristara up to? What is she after, she and her partner? Draconas was trying to settle these questions in his mind, when Edward again broke in on his thoughts.

  “I love Ermintrude, I truly do,” Edward said suddenly. “We’re lucky in our relationship, I suppose, considering that neither of us had any say in the matter of our marriage. We met each other, were wedded, and bedded all on the very same day. Our love isn’t the love you hear about in the minstrel’s song, love that aches and burns and drives a man to either do glorious deeds or drown himself in the river.”

  He hummed a few bars of a minstrel’s lay, then sang part of it in a rich tenor.

  Great anguish locked in the weary heart fierce bitterness borne secretly, mournful expression without joy, dread which silences all hope, are in me and never leave me: and so I can neither be healed nor die.

  “Still,” he added lightly, when he was finished, “that type of love can’t be very comfortable and I am quite comfortable with Ermintrude and the children.”

  His tone grew more serious, his voice softened. “I would give my life for the children. They are my future. They are my immortality. That’s why I must do everything in my power to drive away this dragon. If our children are our future, I have to make certain that their future is secure. Isn’t that right, Draconas?”

  Draconas said yes and went on following his own bleak trail of thought. Humans with dragon magic. Humans were more than capable of destroying themselves without dragon magic. He could not imagine what they would do to each other if they possessed this powerful weapon.

  “Or what they might do to us,” Draconas said to himself.

  For that was, of course, why the dragons were nervous. A human with dragon magic might not be a dragon’s equal when it came to battle, but he would certainly be far more formidable than he was now. And an army of humans possessed of dragon magic . . .

  They will be waiting for me at the pass. These strange monks, armed with dragon magic . . . the enchanted barrier, keeping me from entering . . .

  And keeping anyone inside that kingdom from leaving.

  Draconas was so struck by this realization that he sat up and threw off his blanket.

  “What is it?” Edward asked, mildly alarmed.

  “Anthill,” Draconas answered, covering. Standing up, he shook imaginary ants out of his blanket and changed places. Lying back down again, he added, “That was a charming song you were singing. Perhaps you’d go on with it.”

  “It is not a charming song. It is a very doleful one, but anything to shut me up, right?” Edward said easily. “Very well. I’ll sing and you think. I trust that eventually you’ll tell me what it is you’re thinking about. Eventually,” he added with a grin, “you’ll have to.”

  The king began to sing, his tenor rolling out into the darkness.

  And as her lute doth live or die, Led by her passion, so must I; For when of pleasure she doth sing, My thoughts enjoy a sudden spring . . .

  There is going to come a time when Edward is going to dig in his heels and refuse to budge until all his questions have been answered. Knowing humans, that time will be a most unpropitious one, Draconas said to himself. He made a mental note to be ready for it and then went back to examine his earlier premise.

  No one is able to cross the enchanted barrier to enter Maristara’s kingdom, but people are able to get out. Humans possessed of dragon magic are in the world and Seth is the obvious source.

  A taste for human flesh, so Braun had claimed. Perhaps that was how it had started. A dragon spies for Maristara. She pays him with humans intended for his dinner table. But then this dragon discovers that the humans can be of more use to him than to his stomach. If he has been on the receiving end of human slaves for three hundred years, he might well have an army of men possessed of dragon magic. He and Maristara could be plotting to take over cities, countries, nations.

  What intrigued Draconas was the fact that these humans were being smuggled out of the kingdom. There had to be some way to remove them so that they were not missed. At some point in or around Seth the barrier must have a “gate” left open. And Draconas had an idea where that might be.

  Dragons are cave dwellers. They are born in caves, the hatchlings breaking through the leathery shells of eggs that have been deposited in the darkest recesses of the deepest caverns. Here the younglings remain for a hundred years, living off food brought to them by their parents, sleeping and eating and growing until they are strong enough to leave the caves and catch their first painful glimpse of sunlight. The sight of light is terrifying for most young dragons. Draconas remembered it clearly, remembered hiding his head, longing to creep back into the comfortable, safe darkness. He remembered the way being barred by his mother. He had no choice but to suffer the light.

  Over time, he grew used to the sun and came to enjoy it. But when he dreamed, he dreamed of cool, dark caverns.

  Maristara is no different. She is comfortable in underground rooms and tunnels and what better place to hide that which she does not want others to see, for most humans loathe and fear dark, confined spaces. Upon first arriving in Seth, Maristara would have done what any dragon would do—she would take up residence in a mountain cavern, tunnel it, build it, shape it to suit herself. Which meant that there would be an entrance . . . and an exit.

  “Braun,” called Draconas, his thoughts tinged with sweet, warm colors of satisfaction, “the dragon must have a back door to her lair. I’m guessing her lair is in the Sentinel peak in the Ardvale mountains. The back door must be easily accessible to humans. See if you can find it.”

  The sixth day dawned hot and sultry. No breeze stirred the limp leaves. The air was humid. Sweat poured off their bodies. The horses’ heads drooped as they plodded along. Edward fanned himself with his hat and said he smelled thunder.

  They were in the desolate foothills of Ardvales, picking their way among scrub pine, fallen timber, and bits of the mountain that had broken off and tumbled down the steep slope. The river Aston flowed in the valley beneath them, to their east. The river circled eastward round the mountains from its source far to the north. A part of the river stole into Seth, rising to the surface to form a large lake in the western part of the valley, then diving underground again. They had crossed the Aston several times on this journey, for it was a winding, meandering river, with innumerable branches and tributaries.

  “Once commerce between our two kingdoms must have traveled up and down this river,” Edward remarked. “Strange that all has been so long forgotten. Perhaps I can change that.”

  Draconas answered, “Yes.” He ceaselessly scanned the mountains, searching for the “back door,” though he didn’t really expect to find it. It would be concealed, at least from those whose eyes were at ground level. Braun would have a better chance at spotting it from the air.

  The day wore on. The sun blared, brazen and oppressive. Draconas, who generally cared very little for his physical comfort, felt as if he were being slow-roasted. Waves of shimmering heat rose off the rocks. The mountains wavered in his view.

  Edward abruptly reined in his horse, jerking on the reins so that the animal whinnied and shook its head in irritation.

  “The dragon,” he said in a tight voice. “It’s up there.”

  Draconas squinted into the cobalt sky to see Braun, massive wings outspread, soaring upon the thermals, gliding across the face of the mountain, his neck curved, his head bent. He was close to the borders of Seth. Maristara and her priestess—the be
autiful face in the topaz—must be on alert.

  He hoped they were. Keep the pressure on. Humans under pressure often acted carelessly or foolishly and, in this regard, dragons were no different.

  “You’re mistaken,” said Draconas coolly. “That is a heron.”

  “A heron!” Edward scoffed. “Don’t you think I know a dragon when I—” He stared, blinked his eyes, stared again. “You’re right, by Our Lady. It is a heron. But I could have sworn ...”

  “It’s the heat,” said Draconas. “It plays tricks on a man’s eyes. I have seen what I thought was a blue lake in the middle of a desert, only to find nothing but sand. Look,” he added, changing the subject, “to the west. There is your thunder.”

  Blue-gray clouds, shimmering with white lightning, bubbled and boiled and roiled rapidly over the tail end of the mountain’s spine. The storm moved so fast that with a crack of lightning and a crashing boom it was on them, soaking them with rain in an instant.

  Edward laughed for the sheer pleasure of the cool water on his hot skin and from the exhilaration that comes from witnessing one of nature’s spectacular furies. Taking off his hat, he tilted his face to the sky, enjoying the feel of the water rolling down his sweat-soaked body. Draconas cast half a glance skyward, saw Braun riding the storm winds.

  The dragon spoke to him, glee-tinged images appearing in Draconas’s mind.

  “I think I have found what we seek. I’ll show you where to look. Watch for my sign.”

  Draconas wondered how he was supposed to see anything in the lead-gray murk. He lost sight of Braun in the trailing clouds, but kept an eye on the area where he’d last seen the dragon. The rain pelted down harder. Draconas cursed beneath his breath.

  A sudden blaze of light flared on the mountainside, drawing his eye. Draconas stared hard, marked the spot where the pine tree had caught fire, presumably struck by lightning. Draconas gauged the distance, searched for other landmarks, although a burnt and smoldering pine should not be that difficult to locate.

  Braun veered off, steering clear of the mountain so that the strange eddies of the storm winds did not catch him and slam him into the rock face. The dragon took to the air, climbing through the rain, seeking calmer skies.

  “Be wary,” Braun warned, as he flew away. “I knew to look in this location because last night I spotted torch lights wending their way up the mountain. Maristara is entertaining visitors.”

  “I was right,” said Draconas.

  “So it would seem,” Braun replied.

  The leading edge of the storm passed quickly, taking with it the black clouds, the blinding lightning, the booming thunder and torrential rains. Gray clouds and gentle, steady rain settled in. Draconas watched the darker gray smoke rise from the burning tree, mentally calculating the distance and the time it would take to travel to that place.

  When he found a route he liked, he turned his horse’s head and started off to the northeast. Edward put his sodden hat back on his head, thought better of it and removed it, draped it over the pommel of his saddle to dry.

  “I thought you said the pass was over there.” He pointed to the west, the direction they had been traveling.

  “It is,” said Draconas. “I’ve changed my mind.”

  “Just as you changed a dragon into a heron?” said Edward.

  “You know that such a feat is impossible, Your Majesty.”

  “I know that you call me ‘Sire’ or ‘Your Majesty’ only when you want to lull me into good behavior. I have seen you do the impossible—in a flawed jewel you showed me a flawless woman. I am not a child, Draconas. Nor am I a fool.”

  You are neither child nor fool, Edward. You are a pawn. A small and insignificant piece in a very large game. You see only the square on which you stand. You are not capable of seeing the entire board and thus you must move as I direct. And if I must sacrifice you to the greater cause, I will not hesitate to do so. Humans wielding dragon magic have the power to destroy us all.

  Lifting his head, Draconas looked into the gray mass of clouds, beyond which Braun had flown. The dragon flew in blue skies and calm winds, leaving Draconas on the ground, in the rain.

  “On thinking the matter over, I have decided to see if I can find another route into the kingdom,” he said, continuing to ride, not looking back. “An underground passage—one that might be free of enchantment.”

  “And free of crazed holy men?” suggested Edward.

  Draconas smiled, but he kept his smile to himself, his back to Edward.

  “I could stop here and refuse to budge until you tell me what is going on,” Edward continued, “but I won’t. Why, do you ask? Do I trust you? No, not particularly. You are a man of secrets. You make it impossible to trust you and that’s fine with you because you don’t want to be trusted. Perhaps you think I ride with you out of curiosity. That is true. And you think I am desperate. I am, I freely admit it. This blasted dragon has my kingdom by the short hairs. But there is another reason.”

  Edward paused, then said quietly, “If I made my stand and you refused to answer me, I would have no choice but to turn my horse’s head and ride back home. And I am not ready to go back. Not yet. I have enjoyed these days. For the first time in my life, I am free. I am not king. I am not husband. I am not father. I am not the bearer of sins. I am not the answer to questions. I am not the solution to problems.”

  Edward paused again. The rain had let up, but the clouds remained bunched above them. The smoke from the burning pine rose to clasp the storm’s chill trailing fingers.

  “I must go back to that,” Edward said. “I want to go back. But not yet. Not,” he added, with his sudden, mischievous smile, “while I have such an excellent excuse not to. So, lead on, Draconas. I follow.”

  Six hundred years ago, when he’d first taken on this form, Draconas had made a mistake. He had come to like and admire a human. Because of him, the human had died and Draconas had nearly lost his sanity. He had sworn to himself, never again.

  He repeated the words. Never again.

  8

  AN IMPORTANT CEREMONY WAS BEING CONDUCTED IN the monastery in the mountains of the kingdom of Seth.

  Tonight was Coupling Night, as it was known. On every night of the full moon, twelve men selected by the Mistress of Dragons from a list presented to her monthly by Seth’s king were brought into the monastery under heavy guard. Twelve priestesses, chosen by the Mistress, awaited them. Men and women would pair off and spend the night together. The next morning, the men would be escorted out. Nine months later, if all went well, twelve babies would be born.

  The selection of the men was strictly adjudicated by the Mistress. No nobleman was able to whisper into His Majesty’s ear that a worthless son should be chosen, nor could a wealthy merchant offer bribes to so honor his family. The men had to be of high moral character and must have performed a deed of heroism, compassion, or self-sacrifice that could be attested to by witnesses. Although the men chosen would never know their children, the honor of being selected would follow them throughout their years.

  Each man was dressed in his finest, arrayed as a bridegroom for his wedding. No raucous laughter or crude jokes accompanied this bridegroom’s party, however. The people of Seth honored the sisters who protected them from the dragons. The ceremony, which would insure the continuation of the Sisterhood, was a sacred one. The bridegroom and escorts proceeded up the mountain in hushed reverence.

  They came at twilight, after a day of heat and torrential rain. The sky had cleared at last and the evening star glittered on the rose-red and saffron horizon. Bellona’s warriors, clad in metal armor that had been polished to high sheen, met the men at the gate that led through the high wall into the monastery.

  Bathed and shaven, their hair combed and adorned with garlands, the men were dressed in simple white robes and walked barefoot, to show their humility. One by one they entered, to be searched for weapons by the guards. Their names were checked against the list and, if all was well, they were adm
itted. Friends and family bid them goodbye and called blessings upon them, though wives sometimes gulped back their tears, for this honor was a bittersweet one to the woman who would spend the night alone.

  The men were escorted by the warriors into the monastery’s garden, where the sisters awaited them. All the members of the Sisterhood were present; those with whom the men would mate lined up on one side of the quadrangle, the remaining sisters standing opposite them. This night, Melisande would be the one to greet them and welcome them in the name of the Sisterhood. Customarily, the Mistress of Dragons would have performed this duty, but she was so ill that she could not rise from her bed.

  As the Mistress’s body grew weaker, her spirit burned stronger, or so it seemed to Melisande. The Mistress’s voice was a thin, quavering whisper, but her orders were clear and coherent. Her hand trembled with a palsy, but the grasp of that hand on Melisande’s was firm.

  “This night is so important to our future,” said the Mistress, lying back among the pillows. “I should have given the instructions before now. But there is so much to do ... so much ...”

  “Rest yourself, Mistress,” said Melisande. Seated on the edge of the bed, she smoothed the gray hair back from the woman’s forehead with a gentle hand. “You will be with us for many more Couplings. You are ill from the strain of driving away the dragon we saw today. You should not have risen from your bed so soon. Soon you will be well again.”

  “The shadows draw close around me,” said the Mistress. “Tomorrow morning you will come to me, Melisande, and we will begin the death watch.”

  “Mistress, no!” Melisande choked back her tears. The Mistress would be displeased with her for crying. “Not yet. We cannot manage without you. I cannot! I am not ready.”

  “You proved your readiness during the battle with the dragon.”

  “I have so much yet to learn ...”

  “You will manage, Melisande. We all do, when the time comes. And know that I will be with you,” said the Mistress, patting her hand. “I will always be with you. Now,” she added briskly, “dry your eyes and attend my words.