An enormous laugh erupted from the man, settling down to chuckles as he waved her to a chair. He took the one next to it and said, “I apologize. But I wanted you to see her, to meet her with no preconceptions. I take it you have?”
She sat. “I did. She’s beautiful.” Looking at him, she was suddenly overcome with emotion. “Oh Isandath”—tears sprang to her eyes—“they live!”
“There, there,” a handkerchief appeared in his hands and he dabbed at her eyes. “Why do you cry?”
Are you in danger? Alarm shot through the link. I do not understand what I am feeling from you.
No, sweetling, just overwhelmed and relieved.
“I’m sorry.” She took the cloth square from him and wiped her eyes. “Sneaking back in here has my nerves all a-jangle.” She handed it back to him. “I was very surprised to see her and so happy that we, that the Order, had not killed them all.”
“And did she bring her child? Did you meet?”
Renata wouldn’t have been able to keep the smile from her face had she wanted to. “She did. We did. Isandath, dragons are magical creatures. Literally.”
“What do you mean?”
“Shortly after I met Nayra’s daughter, Xochi, a very strong spell, the Bond, linked us. Not only can I hear Xochi, I can feel her,” she touched her chest. “It’s almost as if we were physically linked.”
“This is incredible.”
“Even now, I can sense her, anxious, as she waits for me.”
“She is here?”
“No, but she’s not too far. She’s waiting in the desert.”
“You shouldn’t have brought her anywhere near here. It’s dangerous!”
“We won’t be long. We’re leaving, going north.”
“North?”
“To look for the boy with the dragon. It’s not his pet, Isandath. It’s his bond-mate. He must be bonded with the dragon like Xochi and I. We’re going to find him and learn what he knows of dragons.”
Isandath nodded. “Yes. It will be better to get Nayra’s child away from the Order.”
“It’s more than that. Xochi says we have a purpose, that all bond-mates do. Unfortunately, that purpose isn’t yet clear to her. We hope the boy and his dragon know more about it.”
“I see.” He stood and quickly made his way to a desk. “I’m going to give you some money. It should be enough to purchase a horse and have some left over for food. Foraging and hunting will provide you with much, but some staples you’ll only be able to buy. I’m also including a quick map to the village across the dessert.” He returned and handed the satchel to her. Looking at her uniform, he said, “You’ll probably want to buy plain clothing, too.”
She fingered her sleeve. “I happened to hold onto this when I left. It worked getting me in.”
“That may not have been the best idea, it turns out. For they know you left and are looking for you.” He smiled. “But I would wager that no one expected you to come in, bold as a sand-shrike, pretending to still be Manisi.”
“They’re looking for me?”
“Yes. So we must cut your visit short. You must leave, now.”
Wishing she could stay even a little longer, she slung the satchel over her shoulder. “Alright.” She stood and walked to the door.
As she opened it, Isandath said, “Renata.”
“Yes?”
“Take care, my child. And when you find this boy, let me know what you learn. Send a letter as my bother. I get one from him every now and then, so it won’t seem out of place. I slipped his name in there, too.”
Renata placed her hand against the satchel. She looked at Isandath and nodded. “I will. Thank you Isandath. For everything.”
She practically ran out of the room, fighting back tears.
You feel sad.
I am, sweetling. Isandath was the only friend I had in this gods-forsaken place. I might not be able to come see him again.
She slowed her pace when she got to the main halls, not wanting to raise suspicions.
I am a Manis. I own this place. Everyone is below me. I am Manisi.
A Crusani boy glanced at her, and she returned a hard, stone-faced stare. He looked away quickly, eyes lowered.
This was going to work! She’d be back to Xochi and would give her an enormous hug in under an hour.
“Renata?” Polandra stared at her from a side hall, eyes wide. “You’ve been in the sun. I hardly recognized you.” Her expression cleared. “They’re looking for you.” She headed back down the passage she’d emerged from.
“Polandra, wait.” Renata hadn’t recognized her either in that Crusani uniform.
The other girl increased her pace and Renata ran to her, grabbing her arm.
“How dare you.” Polandra tried to wrench her arm free. “You aren’t a Manis anymore, even in that uniform, You’ve been purged. You have no right to put hands on me!”
“Polandra, please!” Renata released her. “Let me explain.”
“I don’t care. I’m supposed to report you. Ironic, isn’t it?”
“You were right.”
Polandra paused in turning away. Looking back, she said, “About what?”
Renata let out a loud breath. “Everything.” She indicated an alcove in the hall and the bench within. “Can we . . .”
Polandra glanced at the seat, looked at Renata a moment, and nodded.
Renata slumped onto the bench and Polandra sat as far away from her as she could.
“I shouldn’t have reported that girl all those years ago.”
Polandra stared at her silently.
“And I shouldn’t have done what I did to you, after. I’m sorry. You were right about my supposed friends, too. They made my life several kinds of hell when I became Crusani. As did you.”
Polandra looked uncomfortable, glanced away, and clasped her hands in her lap. “I’m—I’m sorry for that.”
“Still,” Renata said, “I deserved it. All of it.”
Polandra looked back at her, expression unreadable.
“I don’t know how I became that person, how I—” She looked at Polandra, searched her eyes. “Have you ever wondered about what the Order tells us?”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s all a lie. They’ve lied to us, all of us, from the beginning. They’ve betrayed us, Polandra.”
“Do you have sunstroke?” She seemed angry.
“I’m serious, Polandra. That’s why I left. To confirm what I heard.”
“What you heard?”
Renata stared at Polandra a moment and came to a decision. “I’m going to trust you, Polandra. I’m going to trust you with a man’s life.”
Confusion and worry darkened the other girl’s eyes. “A man’s life?”
“The man who told me the truth about the Order. The man who opened my eyes. I’m going to give you his name. I want you to go to him, talk to him. It will take a while, maybe even a year, but then I want you to go see for yourself. I think you deserve to know.”
+ + + + +
Gregor almost talked himself out of it three times on the way to the Dragon Stable. But he kept coming back to two points. One, his father was asking for help. Lord Eldin was asking for help. Two, he could always stop sending information if he ever felt uncomfortable about it.
He frowned. That was the issue, though, wasn’t it? He already felt uncomfortable. Lord Baronel was nothing like what his father had lead him to believe. The man seemed to genuinely care about his people. Sure, he was interested in making Caer Baronel a better place, but he did so in order to better support the people living in and around the Caer. He’d even had that special memorial service for Dayna.
He stopped dead-still at the side of the cobbled road for the fourth time.
“Hey, watch what you’re doing!” A man stepped out from behind, apparently nearly colliding with him.
“I’m sorry!” Gregor called out. “I’m sorry,” he said again, nearly a whisper. The grumbling man never
even slowed.
Gregor started walking again.
Dayna. One of those gods-damned creatures had killed her. And on the day of her funeral, he’d vowed to fight nahual to avenge her. Fat lot of good his promise had been.
He clenched his jaw. Fine. He’d ask about the investigation team and join it, if possible. He should be able to continue working at the infirmary and help with the investigation. Maybe. And then he could decide whether or not to send anything to his father on a case by case basis.
As he approached the Dragon Stable, he spied a wagon being loaded farther down the road at the Magic Craft Hall. Crates, some small, some large, sat upon the wooden cart, and people brought more out from the building. He wondered if it had anything to do with the construction going on at the Dragon Stable.
The stable did not look as he remembered it from the Question and Answer, months ago. The framework of a new building sat to the side of it, and there were workers all over the place. This would certainly qualify as something his father might like to know about.
He walked over to a woman who seemed to be in a position of authority. “Excuse me,” he said, “I’m looking for the investigation office?”
She turned to him. “It’ll be through that door, yonder.” She pointed at the far end of the building.
He nodded. “Thank you.”
After knocking a few times, he decided the best thing was to go inside. With all the construction, he wouldn’t be surprised if even pounding the door went unheard.
The office was large and neat and completely empty of people. Shelves lined the walls, some with books, some with notebooks, and there were two narrow tables along each side wall. The middle of the room was dominated by two large tables surrounded by chairs, and a large desk sat near the back wall. To his left was an open door.
Maybe the investigation people were in another part of the offices. He stepped through, toward the middle of the building, and stopped dead in his tracks for the fifth time.
“Alandra’s merciful heart.”
There was the dragon, laying on the floor, head resting on her forepaws, eyes locked on him.
“Y–You’re big. A big girl. I think I remember that you were a girl, anyway. Gods, you’re amazing.”
A quiet rumble—a purr?—came from the dragon. It sounded happy.
“Hello. My name’s Gregor. I was, ah . . .” Lost in taking her all in, a head shake put him back on track. Pointing behind, he said, “I was looking for the people in charge of, ah . . .” A quick laugh, sounding half-crazed, escaped his lips. “I’m talking to a dragon, and you probably don’t even understand me.” He looked around. “Well, there’s no one else here to talk to, so why not? Right?”
He walked further into the large area. The dragon, what was her name again? Andrea? Althea? Anna? He couldn’t recall, but she raised her head and watched him.
Those eyes. They saw him. Her gold eyes held intelligence. “You do understand me, don’t you?”
Her head dipped and raised.
That was a nod! Goosebumps raced across his skin and he let out another laugh, rubbing his arms. “Incredible!”
It sounded like the door back in the office opened.
“—better prepared for next week’s test. You passed, but barely.”
“Yes, sir. It’s just been so busy lately.”
“No excuses, Aeron. You must keep up with your studies. Now, where’s our guest? Anaya told you someone—Ah! There you are.”
Two people walked out of the office. Master Doronal, if he remembered the man’s name right, and a boy—Aeron, he supposed—perhaps fourteen or fifteen.
“I didn’t mean to bother the dragon,” Gregor said. “I was looking for the investigators and thought perhaps they might be in another part of the building. Name’s Gregor.”
“Anaya says you weren’t bothering her.” Aeron smiled at the dragon. He turned to Gregor, his expression becoming more serious, and looked him over. “She likes you, says you’re nice. In fact, she says you’re a candidate. A good candidate.”
“Candidate?”
Master Doronal, looking more interested, said, “I do apologize for no one being here to greet you. One of our members is away on business. What brings you to the investigation office, Gregor?”
“I, ah, wondered if I could join the team, help investigate nahual. But something he said . . .” He turned back to the boy, Aeron. “She told you I was a good candidate? I didn’t hear her say anything.”
Aeron tapped his temple with a finger. “Anaya speaks in your mind, and I can talk to her that way, too.” He smiled proudly at his dragon.
“That’s amazing.” Gregor looked at Anaya. “She’s amazing.”
“How did you learn of the investigation team?” Master Doronal had a polite expression of curiosity on his face, but his eyes were sharp, probing.
“From Lord Baronel, sir. He mentioned it years ago at Dayna’s funeral. I thought of inquiring then, but I, ah, I needed time. Along the way I joined Healing Craft. But I’ve always wanted to do more to fight those damned nahual, and do so more directly.”
“Dayna.” Master Doronal looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, “The girl from the survey team?”
“Yes. We were . . . on the team together. After she died, I didn’t know what to do. I thought that perhaps healing arts was my path forward. If we’d just had a healer with us, then maybe . . .” He shook his head. “Anyway, I was eighteen at the time, beyond the normal age for starting in a craft. But I spoke with Master Inndrus at the infirmary, begged him to let me join, explained why I had to. He allowed me to transfer.”
Master Doronal seemed to be studying him. After a glance at Anaya, he looked back. “Our investigators have no need for healers. As you well know, the infirmary is more than capable of handling their healing needs.”
It felt like a blow to the stomach. Gregor’s shoulders slumped and his head lowered.
I failed, he thought morosely. I failed Dayna.
Do not worry.
He looked around. The quiet voice had sounded young, perhaps that of a child. He glanced at Aeron, but the boy wasn’t near enough for a whisper to be heard. Besides, Aeron was watching Master Doronal.
Gregor frowned. He’d been sure it was the boy. Though, now that he thought on it, the voice had actually sounded more like . . . a girl.
His eyes widened. In shock, he looked at Anaya. The dragon was watching him.
“Still, a vow in her memory? You have passion. Good.”
“Sir?”
“How many crafts do you have under your belt?”
Master Doronal’s question caught him off guard. “I, ah, I’m apprentice rank in, let’s see, two crafts, I’m journeyman in three, and I’m adept in healing.”
Master Doronal nodded. “Well, it appears you can stick with a task. That’s good, too.”
Gregor stood straighter. This didn’t sound as much like a dismissal as it had at first.
“What do you think of dragons?”
“Dragons?”
“Yes.” Master Doronal walked over to Anaya. “How do they take you? Are you frightened of them?” He ran his hand along her neck, patted her back.
“No, sir. I think they’re incredible.”
“I see. Well, unfortunately, as I said, our investigators have no need for healers.”
Gregor’s shoulders slumped again. Had he been wrong about the conversation?
“Dragons, on the other hand . . .” Master Doronal smiled. “If you’re willing to become the world’s first dragon healer, I think we may have a place for you on the team.”
+ + + + +
Kline was running late. He’d had to spend quite a bit more time at the last station yesterday than he’d intended, explaining how the man would be fired if the rules and regulations clearly outlined in the Station Master’s Manual were not held to.
If the station masters didn’t do their jobs, how was Kline supposed to keep things running smoothly at the stations und
er him? It was incredible that so much explaining had to be done before the man had finally understood.
Kline shivered and rubbed his arms. Even with the coat, the cool night air was chilling him. Flicking the reigns, he said, “Let’s get there soon, Peaches.”
The mare increased her gait to a trot. Kline hated traveling at night, and he wouldn’t have had to, if that insufferable jackass had just done his job.
An owl, somewhere behind, made its quiet, haunting call. He shivered, and this time, not from the cold. He’d read the reports as well as heard rumors about nahual. They seemed to only attack at night. He again cursed the man for not doing his job. Nightfall was several hours past and he had nearly another to go before he arrived at Station 24.
At least the man was fully on-board now. The more efficient we are, Kline had explained, the more money we make. The more money we make, the more we can pay our employees.
That was the company line, anyway. Kline knew better.
He glanced at the trees. The little illumination provided by the lantern hanging on the saddle made them more menacing, not less. Damn that man!
Finally, Station 24 appeared before them. Dark, it sat alone, ten miles outside Sufferer’s Hollow.
He shivered again. Who in their right mind would name a town that? And even more to the point, who would want to live there?
“Neddrick!” He hitched Peaches to the post, and after unstrapping the small lantern from the saddle horn, he walked up the steps. “Station Master Neddrick!”
Why were there no lights? Company rules clearly state that at night, the office and porch should be well-lit with the attendant seated and visible at the fare window. True, they weren’t fully operational yet, but employees were supposed to be performing their routines. And stations didn’t close at night until—he checked his pocket chronometer. Oh. It was later than he’d thought. Still, the lanterns were supposed to be unshielded. And there was supposed to be a sign in the window instructing customers to knock on the back door in an emergency, to wake the attendant.
Neddrick might be a friend, but that was no excuse for laxity. He looked in the window, but it was too dark to see the entire office, even with the glimmers of light from his hand-lantern, so he pounded on the door to its left. “Neddrick!”
The Bond (Book 2) Page 10
