The leader quickly passed the beautiful thing—it must’ve been the soul, I could imagine nothing so fitting—to a lackey, who tucked it under his shirt and spirited it out of my sight. All members of the camp, who’d been as transfixed as I was, jumped to attention.
From somewhere deep in the bushes, a guard appeared, dragging someone behind him. We were found out, I realized, but it was not Badger who’d been caught. It was Madoka.
I drew back from the trees at once—it would do none of us any good if I was caught as well. Badger and I had planned to meet where we’d left her, and I could only hope he was soldier enough to stick to the plan rather than barge into the middle of a very tense situation and try to rescue her right away. The soul momentarily unimportant, but not altogether forgotten, I hurried back to meet him, hoping I would find him waiting for me where last we’d all been together.
He was, face mottled with anger, hands braced in fists.
“Calm down,” I told him, first and foremost. “Your anger will do her no good.”
“She’s been captured by those…” he said, searching for a word. Apparently he was unable to find it, and he spat into the sand, looking startled by his own vehemence. “You saw what they have done—”
“I have seen it,” I told him, and grasped one of his large hands in both of mine. “Don’t worry. We will save her.”
I wished I’d had a plan to back up my words, but one would come soon enough. With Madoka as our distraction, we would take my prize from their leader, as well. We had our trump card. Now we needed only to play it.
THOM
In the end, it was Sarah Fleet who kept Rook from attacking Kalim.
“Look,” she said, standing and speaking in a voice far louder than I ever would have expected from such a short, stout woman. “You kill that desert rider, you feel good for a little while, sure, but you don’t learn anything. Get your hands off his throat and let him say something. Just might turn out to be interesting.”
I would have been the first to admit that I was worried—I did not want Rook to continue manhandling our guide, of course, but neither did I want him to release him and be attacked himself. It was an awkward situation, no other way of looking at it, and I was feeling somewhat trapped by everything when Rook unclenched his hands from where they were holding on to Kalim’s cowl and whirled away.
My brother, of course, was ready to be attacked. When Kalim made no move to go after him, he straightened halfway, still poised like an alley cat ready to jump.
“I have not misled you, as you seem to believe,” Kalim explained. “Some time ago—perhaps three weeks, it was not so far back as all that—a new magic came to our people. I was the one who found it: carried into the desert by a man who did not know the ways of the sand. He was dead, and I buried him, and thus the gods gifted this magic to me. As I am prince of my people, it was a sign. I was to inherit the tribes. Even my enemies agreed.”
“Got a regal air about you,” Sarah Fleet conceded, just to be difficult, which was a behavioral trait she seemed to greatly enjoy exhibiting. By my calculations, according to Kalim, Havemercy’s parts had been traveling since the crash, while Rook had been in captivity—tortured—and then recovering in Thremedon with me. She had a considerable head start on us, then.
“I thank you,” Kalim said, though he still looked a little bit uncomfortable to be addressing her directly.
“You’re gonna have to be a hell of a lot clearer than that,” my brother said, his tone no less dangerous. He still mistrusted words more than anything else, and especially when it seemed as though someone was employing them to keep him from the information he needed most.
“It was stolen from me,” Kalim continued, the look on his face growing dark. “By rights, any leader may challenge another if he feels it is his place to do so, but none had come forth to challenge me in the custom of our people. Thus, I was convinced that all supported me; but I was wrong. One of my enemies—a leader of a lesser tribe and one of my half brothers—crept in at night like a filthy rat to take what was not his. When I woke in the morning, my symbol of inheritance was gone, and with it my right to unite the tribes under my rule.”
“That’s a real sad tale, Kalim. You’re breakin’ my heart,” Rook said, in a tone that I knew all too well. I could easily predict what would come next too, and I stepped closer to the center of the conflict in case it became necessary to prevent another fight from breaking out. “But I’m not all that interested in who gets to plant their ass in a throne of sand, you got me?”
“I…do not follow,” Kalim confessed. Seeing the set of my brother’s shoulders, and Kalim’s basic inability to grasp the facts from Rook’s more colorful language, I knew what I had to do. I sent up a prayer to whatever foreign deities might currently have their ears open over the desert and waded in.
“What we’d like to know, Kalim,” I clarified, “is if you could be a bit more specific about this magic you found. It was a physical object with a form to it, yes?”
Kalim nodded, stretching his hands apart to indicate dimensions. “Form, yes,” he said. “About the size of a nursling just born, and clear like blown glass, though not nearly so fragile. There were bands of gold wrapped about its body, one about the top, and one about the bottom, so as not to obscure the wonders within. Inside the glass were the movements of a machinery I did not understand—a part of the magic, no doubt, beyond my understanding—but it had gears and workings in bright gold, the likes of which I had never seen. Traders have brought all manner of…what is the word? Mechanical, yes? They bring these mechanicals to our people, but I had never seen the equal of that magic which I myself, with these hands, took away from the dead man.”
I was privately fascinated by the tale, and the description of the mysterious object thrilled me, though I couldn’t even begin to guess at its nature. Kalim had a way of speaking that was truly rare, persuasive and absorbing both in one. It was a skill I wished more of my professors in the ’Versity had exhibited, but there was no point in thinking about that now.
I could tell by my brother’s face that Kalim’s story had not illuminated him in any of the ways he’d been hoping for, and I frantically raced to try to think of something—anything—to keep the tension from boiling over.
“Well, slap my ass and call me Nellie,” Sarah Fleet said, breaking my concentration. I’d all but forgotten she was there, which seemed downright impossible considering how much trouble she went to in order to make her presence known at all times. There was a queer look on her face all of a sudden, and for a brief moment both her eyes were fixed on the same target: Kalim.
“I do not understand your request,” Kalim said.
“It’s a saying, dear,” Sarah Fleet told him. “Just me reacting to what you found out there. But I never thought it’d end up in a place like that, no sir. Not that I’d mind if you took me up on it—just in passing, and just thought I’d mention. I’ll explain it to you sometime. You’re a handsome one, but unfortunately I’m all business tonight.” She let out a sharp, unexpected whistle. “And too bad, ’cause I’m betting I could teach you a thing or two about slapping and Nellies.”
“Woman,” Rook began, as Kalim blanched a full shade paler. “Get down to the point.”
“Don’t you hustle me, airman,” Sarah Fleet said. She huffed, rubbing her hands together and adjusting her glasses. She seemed reluctant to part with her information, for whatever reason, and it occurred to me that this was in all likelihood the most company she’d seen since her exile. Perhaps she wished for us to stay a while longer, keep her company somewhat in all this expansive, sandy darkness.
It didn’t seem particularly fair to me. Especially when she made such excellently seasoned rice pudding—just the barest hint of cinnamon dusting the top.
“Do you recognize Kalim’s description?” I prompted her, as gently as I could. I was still wary of her—as wary as I’d ever been of Havemercy herself, in fact—but she wasn’t a dragon. She was
just a lonely old woman whose skills had gotten the better of her.
“Any one of us who worked on the dragons back in the day would recognize something like that,” she said finally, giving Kalim a sharp look. Her eyes passed over to Rook, and I saw him shoot a glance at the compass they’d made on the table, Rook’s blood mixed with Sarah Fleet’s, puddled together in Havemercy’s scale. “It just so happens that this here desert rider found a dragonsoul.”
“Beg pardon?” I asked.
“A what?” Rook demanded.
“Dra…gon…soul,” Sarah Fleet repeated slowly. “You idiots got sand in your ears? It’s the guts of what makes a dragon your dragon. Weren’t you listening before? Magicians aren’t mechanics. We get some say in what goes where, but it’s not like we all had the skills to build those pretties from the ground up. ’Course, old Alan—he worked on a real beauty, named her Proudmouth—built that thing with his own two hands and made the rest of us look bad, but he was the exception. There’s one in every bunch. What we worked on was the heart and soul of th’Esar’s little pet project: how to make our babies live and breathe—without them doing any actual living and breathing, mind. Dragonsouls’re what kept them alive, say, and fuel’s what kept them in the air. All the rest was just a home to what we came up with, like putting a soul inside of a body, so that’s what we called it. Wasn’t a heart; those were made out of cogs. And it wasn’t a brain, ’cause those were made out of cogs too. So we played Regina a little bit, got fancy. Sounded good at the time. You catch my meaning?”
“So,” I began slowly, to give Rook a moment to collect himself, “their relative…personalities…”
“Never supposed to happen that way,” Sarah Fleet said. “By the time I got brought in, they said th’Esar was already boiling mad about what he thought was our little trick, sneaking bits of ourselves into the dragons to keep them from being his. They were just supposed to be flying machines, I guess, but the men and women who put their blood and sweat into the project had different ideas. Guess you could say we were all pretty attached, after spending years trying to craft ’em. Some of us didn’t have families or children; those of us who did spent all their time working on the dragons rather than visiting with the families they did have. Why, there was one woman who treated hers like it was a baby. I’d catch her cradling that thing in its work blanket when she thought no one was around. Yeah, we were real special all right. Bat-shit bell-cracked you might say, but everyone who creates something’s always a little bit off in the head region. Otherwise you don’t have any imagination.”
“So that’s what Kalim had,” Rook said, for confirmation more than anything else. He looked a little calmer, though his anger was still lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for a chance to reveal itself. “Had it, then lost it.”
Kalim scowled darkly.
“Sounds like.” Sarah Fleet shrugged. “Judging by the way that needle went, too, I’d say the dragonsoul he picked up belongs to our girl. Just in case you were curious. Call it a hunch. And if I’m right about someone wanting to put her back together, well. They’d need the soul, that’s all I’m saying. It’s kind of a key ingredient. Like cinnamon.”
Rook whirled back around like the crack of a whip, and Kalim immediately tensed, clearly expecting my brother to start another fight. When he didn’t, Kalim lowered his hands and looked at him curiously.
“I did not understand a great many things about the witch’s speech,” Kalim confessed. “Nor do I understand the sudden nature of your assault, Mollyrat Rook.”
“I need to find the guy who stole your magical inheriting-whatever,” Rook told him, calmly. “And then I need to kill him.”
“Easy there, tiger,” said Sarah Fleet. “Is that any way to convince someone to do you a favor?”
Kalim was frowning, clearly thinking something over before he replied next. “I believe that I can take you to him,” he said at last. “It is his men that we were pursuing, before we came upon you and the rakhman. They are not difficult men to track, as their leader is a proud man, and like all proud men he leaves his mark wherever he goes, not mindful of any dangers the desert might hold for him. I can lead you to him, but I must be the one to kill him, Mollyrat Rook. It is a matter of honor.”
One look at my brother’s face told me all I needed to know regarding what he thought about that.
“Guess we can fight over that honor when the time comes,” Rook offered. “That’s if we’re not fighting over the dragonsoul first.”
“If I choose to give it as a gift,” Kalim said, “that is different than it being taken from me. For a king, or even a prince, it is a desirable thing to be generous. But I must first dispose of the man who took it, and my men will follow me for the chance to restore our honor.”
“But when the dust settles, I take the soul home with me,” Rook said, just to confirm.
“What you do with your soul is your own business,” Kalim said, eyebrows raised. “But if you speak of the magic, then I may be able to make this gift to you, yes.”
“That would indeed be incredibly generous of you,” I said quickly, believing it almost too good to be true and not willing to let Rook’s temper interfere with the deal.
“Then we shake upon it,” Kalim exclaimed, offering his large, callused hand. Rook took it, and they looked for a moment or so as though they were going to arm-wrestle. Then, abruptly, Rook released him, and Kalim smiled very subtly, just like the slight shifting of the sands against the touch of the wind. “This is good,” Kalim went on. “Now we are allies.”
“Never needed allies,” Rook muttered.
“Now, Rook,” Sarah Fleet warned. “Play nice with the other boys.”
“When we go back in time and you give me your tit to suck,” Rook replied flatly, “then we’ll talk about what I can and can’t do.”
“Fair enough,” Sarah Fleet said. “You’ve got a mouth on you like nothing I’ve ever heard.”
“And you’re ugly as a brick shithouse,” Rook countered.
“They do not like each other?” Kalim asked me privately. “Because you have come all this way, through dangerous territory, to see her—and this is how they speak?”
I watched them, standing next to one another, Rook tall and hard and lean, Sarah Fleet short and soft and round. They both turned on me the moment I let my gaze linger, and I looked away hurriedly, trying to pretend I’d been studying the design of one of Sarah Fleet’s dining chairs.
“Boy’s gonna catch flies in that mouth of his,” Sarah Fleet said.
“I’m working on it,” Rook replied, “but he’s even more fucking stubborn than I am.”
“Serves you right, then,” Sarah Fleet said. “Now go on and get the fuck out of here.”
Rook was stalling, I realized suddenly. He hadn’t enjoyed this kind of easy banter since he’d been able to ride—and Sarah Fleet had said nothing about this dragonsoul having a voice. It was just a piece of the “mechanicals,” as Kalim would have said; its form and vision were gone, and only the theory remained.
In any case, all contemplation aside, Rook was clearly reluctant to depart. If only we could have taken Sarah Fleet with us, I thought, then banished the very idea from my mind. As difficult as it was to travel with Rook, it would be unimaginable to travel with someone like Fleet.
“Thank you for your assistance,” I said tentatively, finally allowing myself to return my attention to Sarah Fleet.
She tilted her head to the side and scratched her neck. “Work that stick out of your ass,” she said, by way of you’re welcome.
Rook snorted, and I tried my best not to feel too humiliated. Perhaps I was doomed—no one like Rook would ever find reason to respect me—but Rook elbowed me in the side, a little too hard, I thought, and I stumbled forward.
“I’ll…consider the advice,” I mumbled, then, somewhat more forcefully, “in the spirit it was given.”
“Attaboy, Thomas,” Sarah Fleet said. “You boys want to come back this wa
y when all this hoopla’s over, I’ll be more than willing to tell you some stories about Havemercy when she wasn’t any more than a fat little baby.”
Rook’s jaw hardened, and I saw him stiffen. “Maybe,” he said.
Just maybe.
Then we turned and filed out into the night, me to face the camel, Rook obscured by darkness. The moon was high, the stars so bright I could count each and every one of them and recognize a few constellations from my textbooks, but I was too distracted to remember their official names properly.
“This is what matters,” Rook said to me suddenly.
“I know,” I told him. “We’ll find it.”
“Damn right we will,” Rook replied, “even if I have to fight every last one of these bastards single-handed.”
“Well,” I said, “not quite…single-handed.”
“You’d just get in the way,” Rook said, but I thought I could hear him grinning, and he didn’t even laugh when I dragged myself up bodily onto Bessie, which was an olive branch if ever I’d seen one. Heartened by his good mood and the promise of some conclusion ahead of us, I hushed Bessie as she snorted at my weight atop her. If I could last this one out, then so could she, the cruel, spiteful animal.
“You coming, Thom?” Rook asked. Like I was a person, a friend, someone to counsel.
I wiped the fresh sand from out of my nose. “I am,” I said.
“Excellent,” Kalim told us. “Now we ride hard.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
MADOKA
People had this saying: Don’t ask how can things get worse when you don’t want to find out the answer. It was a wise saying. I hadn’t stuck to it, and now here I was, being talked at by people in a language I didn’t understand, with everyone shouting at once and my hand hurting so bad I thought my arm was going to fall off.
I’d stopped trying to explain myself or even plead innocent when the sound of my voice’d earned me a boot to the face. They didn’t appreciate my words. I didn’t appreciate theirs, either, but the thing was, I wasn’t the one holding all the dice so I wasn’t the one who got to call the shots, and it was shut up fast or get kicked to the sand again, so I chose the first option, thanks very much, and hoped that’d earn me a short reprieve.
Dragon Soul Page 29
