The Dragon's Egg

by Pauline M. Ross

  “Did the Second Protector explain our various abilities to you?” the Keeper said.

  “Xando? He said something about it – fire, water… erm, I forget.”

  “The ability to read emotions in others,” she said. “I have been watching you all ever since you met Second in Minaar, so I know Hanni was not being entirely honest. Better to talk without her around, do you not agree?”

  I couldn’t argue with that.

  “There is one request I would make of you before we start,” she said. “You have seen this egg that Drusinaar came from, I think.”

  “A piece of it. We had it with us, but it got lost when we were captured by raiders and sold into slavery.”

  “You have had an adventurous time,” she said, mildly. “You must tell me all about it, one day. And I should love to hear of the Karningplain, for I have never been so far south. But the egg. If you can remember the shard clearly, that will be enough.” That puzzled me, but again she knew exactly what was in my mind. “Memories – we can read your memories. But only if you permit.”

  “Oh. All my memories?” I certainly didn’t want anyone trampling about in my head without restraint.

  “No, no. Only those you choose to share. All you have to do is remember the egg shard, exactly as you saw it. Can you do that, Garrett?”

  “I can try.”

  She asked me to kneel in front of her, while she held my head lightly in her hands. Slender hands, cool against my skin. I closed my eyes and tried to remember the time I’d seen the egg shell, and held it in my hands, felt the little tingle of magic in it. I thought of the Lady’s room, and the Lady herself on her chair, Marisa and Drusinaar facing her. I was to one side, watching. Marisa reached into her bag and brought out the piece of shell. The Lady asked me to look at it, and I got up and went across to take it. It was quite light, it seemed to me, but then I had nothing to compare with.

  The Keeper withdrew her hands, startling me. I’d forgotten she was there. I hadn’t been aware of her in my mind at all. Perhaps there was a slight warmth, but it could have been my imagination.

  “Fascinating,” the First protector said. “Is it the same?”

  “I believe so. Which means that I was right – the hoard Xando and I found were not dragon’s eggs.”

  Drusinaar made a little sound, half gasp and half moan. “Hoard?” she whispered.

  “Oh, yes,” the Keeper said, turning to her with a soft smile. “There were hundreds of them. Hundreds more like you, Drusinaar.”

  ~~~~~

  I can’t tell how long we sat in that little room, while the Keeper talked to Drusinaar. Sometimes she asked me a question, too, but I had little to contribute. Servants came and went with refreshments, and the First Protector and I nibbled a bit, but the two women were engrossed. The Keeper tried her memory trick with Drusinaar, but it didn’t work, for some reason. Maybe too much magic in her.

  The Keeper was fascinated by Drusinaar’s glass ball. She’d never seen anything of the kind before, but then they seemed to be mostly a Tre’annatha thing. Drusinaar had no reservations about handing it over to the Keeper. She trusted her implicitly. Just as with Hanni’s friend, however, when the Keeper held the ball, nothing happened – no swirling colours. It must have been so firmly attuned to Drusinaar that nobody else could use it.

  Eventually, the Keeper sighed. “Well, Drusinaar, you are a mystery to me. I have never met anyone like you before. Indeed, I have never even heard of anyone like you, but I think you must have come from the hoard of eggs that Second and I found. No dragon could have entered down those narrow tunnels, so the egg must have been taken by human hands, I think. The eggs were large, but one person could carry one in some kind of sling or pack. If your egg was removed, and then the dragons found it, naturally they would have assumed it was a dragon egg. Hence the fight. But the distance involved, from the mountain where the eggs were hidden to the coast where the dragons were fighting! It defies belief. So perhaps there was another hoard nearby.”

  “More than one hoard?” I said. “By the Nine!”

  “It is supposition, but logical, I think. And I think Hanni’s supposition is also logical – that Drusinaar is a mage-experiment. The Catastrophe could only be averted if the mages all died, every last one, but they expended much effort trying to ensure that mage-craft could be restored afterwards. The Keepers were the repository of much knowledge, but the mages were secretive. We do not know all the ways they tried to keep magic alive. Perhaps Drusinaar is one of those ways, and the Keepers – the old Keepers – were to help her reach her potential.”

  “You mean – become like a mage?” I said.

  “Yes. All the evidence is that Drusinaar has some innate magical ability, but she cannot use it properly. Sometimes it bursts out, if she is upset, and the glass ball obviously amplifies the effect, but she needs something else. She is curled up in her cocoon, if you will, but only sunshine and warmth will allow her to emerge as a butterfly. All we have to do is find the right kind of sunshine.”

  Drusinaar said nothing. She never said much, but lately she’d been almost silent. She watched, though. Her eyes were constantly moving, taking everything in. I was sure she listened too, although how much she understood was impossible to guess. More than we realised, probably.

  She’d certainly changed on the journey. Or maybe it was the glass ball, I don’t know. But her eyes rarely flickered now, her voice wasn’t flat any more, and occasionally she’d ask a question. It may have been my imagination, but I thought her hair was growing a little thicker. But there had been no more outbreaks of fire or lock-picking or rain-shifting, for which I was grateful.

  The Keeper and First Protector had some discussion without words, talking to each other in their heads. I’d seen Xando do it, but it was still peculiar. After a while, they both laughed at some secret joke.

  The Keeper turned back to Drusinaar and me. “We are agreed,” she said, still smiling. “I do not believe I am the Keeper that you are looking for, Drusinaar, and I do not hold all the knowledge of the human race, as the Keepers of old did, but I want to do what I can to help you. I am the Keeper of the Spirit of Mesanthia, and if you wish it, I will show you the Wisdom of the Spirit, to see if it means something to you. Would you like that?”

  “Yes, please.” Drusinaar’s eyes gleamed with excitement.

  “Very well. I have some boring meetings for the rest of today, but I can see you tomorrow morning.”

  “Thank you, Revered One,” Drusinaar said.

  As we drove back to the guest house, with an escort of armed guards, Drusinaar tucked her hand into mine. “I like the Keeper,” she said. “She has lots of magic, like Xando and the other one.”

  Beneath all the surface oddness of her, there was an affectionate little person in there. I liked it when she held my hand. She made me feel very protective towards her, like an older brother, looking after a little sister who wasn’t quite fit for the world.

  “The other one?” I said. “Oh, the First Protector. Yes, they share their abilities.”

  “Yes. Like mages. Like egg-people.” She smiled at me, and rested her head on my shoulder.

  Sometimes Drusinaar scared me.

  27: The Arena (Garrett)

  By the time we got back to the guest house, Zarin was a lot calmer although he wouldn’t look me in the eye. Xando was still with him, sitting beside him and murmuring away in his soft voice.

  “So why did you do it, old man?” I said, kneeling in front of his chair. My anger had dissipated as soon as the Keeper’s Guards had Drusinaar safe in their care, but his betrayal still puzzled me. After all we’d been through, and the tricks we’d had to use to keep her away from the regular Tre’annatha and out of the Program, I couldn’t understand how he could just hand her over, as if she was no more than a piece of wood.

  “She would be better in the Program,” he hissed, with a spurt of the old fire. “That was what the Guardian wished for her, and it is what I have alwa
ys thought, too. They are experts at dealing with anyone with an ability. They would know best how to help her. This Keeper means well, but what does she know about such matters?”

  I said nothing, but I felt uneasily that he was right. Whatever she was, this Keeper, I doubted she was what Drusinaar was looking for. But that was hardly the point.

  “Didn’t it cross your mind that you shouldn’t just whip Drusinaar away from under the Keeper’s nose? It’s like being invited for a meal and stealing the spoons.”

  Zarin exhaled noisily. “It never occurred to me. I just thought that Dru would be better off, and I would be getting something that I wanted, too. It seemed a harmless enough scheme when the Magister Most High explained it to me.” He rubbed a hand across his eyes, and even his voice seemed tired. “You know, Garrett, I am not impervious to the irony of this. Here you are, a professional gambler and cheat, lecturing me about ethics, and you are quite right to do so. I used to think I was so much better than you – cleverer, better educated, better in every way that mattered – and if that failed me, I had the virtuous carapace of my religion to protect me from the censure of the world. I was very smug, I can see that now. Yet for all that, your moral judgement is sounder than mine.”

  “This hideous journey has knocked the stuffing out of all of us,” I said. “It’s been hard to work out which way is up. Not to mention that the Lath left you high and dry, with your religion in question.”

  “That is true. It is very hard to know what to believe in any more. I know you have no belief in the Gods, Garrett, but even you must believe in something.”

  “I believe in myself,” I said at once. “I’m the only person who’s never let me down.”

  Zarin eyed me sideways for a moment, then he began to laugh. “You know, Garrett, there is a good man hidden inside your rough exterior. To my surprise, I find I am beginning to like you. I should have listened to you more.”

  “Taken you long enough to realise it,” I said with a grin.

  Hanni sat on the other side of the table, saying nothing, and although her face showed no anger, there was a distinct air of resentment about her. We told her everything that had been said and done in the Keeper’s Tower, and she asked a thousand questions, especially about the eggs the Keeper had seen. I answered everything, as best I could remember, and even then she oozed displeasure at being excluded. She thought Drusinaar was her exclusive property. Her experiment.

  I thought Drusinaar was very much her own property, and becoming more so by the day.

  Late in the afternoon, just as the sun was going down, the First Protector came. He’d left off the mail and weapons, and was wearing only a sleeveless shirt, but that didn’t make him any less formidable. The muscles in his arms and chest were impressive, and there was a tattoo of a snake on one arm, although rather faded. He was a man I’d rather have with me than against me in a fight, that was for certain.

  “Well, Master Zarin,” he said, “it seems you have been the victim of a deception. The Tre’annatha you met at the Academia is not employed there in any capacity, and could not have arranged work for you. She took your friend under her wing some time ago, and used him to obtain a variety of information.”

  “Ha!” Zarin said, eyes flashing. “I suspected Yhur was up to no good. He was most disrespectful towards me. He even addressed me as ashanok. That is far too familiar for our connection.” His fists were clenched, as if he wanted to punch his so-called friend.

  Xando murmured something to him, and almost at once Zarin became calmer, his fingers uncurling. I wondered if Xando was using his magic to soothe him. That would be a clever trick to have. I could have made good use of it on a few occasions.

  The First Protector smiled, white teeth gleaming against his dark skin. “I believe your friend was just as taken in. He was only trying to do a favour for a supposed superior. How was he to know she was nothing of the sort? The Academia is such a huge place, and anyone may walk in and out. Checks are only made on those requiring access to the books. It was clever, but they are devious, these people. No offence, Xando.”

  Xando smiled. “I am outside the Program, so you may speak of them as you please. Does this mean that Zarin will face a lesser penalty?”

  “I don’t think he needs to fear execution, but there must be some penance. You will be closely watched for a while, Zarin, so don’t leave the guest house without permission. That goes for all of you, in fact.”

  Hanni glared at him, but it seemed a sensible strategy to me.

  “May I have some more books, please?” Drusinaar said. “I have read everything here.”

  “Of course,” Xando said. “Tell the Steward what you need and she will arrange it. Well, it is time I returned to the Isle. Are you coming, Zak?”

  The First Protector nodded. “Later. I have somewhere I have to go first. Perhaps you’d like to come along too, Garrett?”

  “Where to?”

  The teeth gleamed again. “You’ll see, but I think you’ll enjoy it.”

  My mind roved over the possibilities. A tavern? A brothel? A gaming house? Whatever it was, it would get me away from Zarin’s long face and Hanni’s simmering discontent. “Fine. All right if I go, Drusinaar?”

  “Yes.” Then, after a pause, “Enjoy yourself.”

  Xando disappeared in a carriage, but the First Protector and I walked side by side through the lamplit streets. He was the second most important person in Mesanthia, but he carried no visible weapons and he had no guards. But then, he could call upon fire, if he needed it, and his mental ability could presumably detect if anyone approached him with evil intent. A powerful man, in multiple ways.

  It was still hot, and from the treetops above us insects screeched a repetitive song. Once or twice I heard scuttling in the drains edging the road. Drifts of cooking smoke brought tantalising aromas to my nose.

  “May I ask, First Protector… um, Revered One…”

  The teeth flashed again. “For tonight, call me Zak.”

  “Zak, then… Will there be food wherever we’re going? Because I think I may have missed a meal.”

  He rumbled with laughter. “There will be food. And drink. And entertainment the like of which you will not have seen anywhere in the world.”

  “I’ve been around a bit, you know,” I said mildly. “Seen a few sights in my time.”

  He just laughed.

  We had been joined by a trickle of other people walking on the same street, and in the same direction. The trickle became a stream, and then a flood. We approached a high, multi-windowed building from which came a great noise of many people.

  “This is the arena,” Zak said. “We will go in this way, by the private door.”

  He turned smartly aside from the moving mass of people, and into a quieter alley, where a discreet painted door stood open, light flooding out. Several beefy armed guards stood aside as we entered, with respectful bows. Then up two long flights of carpeted stairs to a curving corridor, with many doors. More armed guards patrolled, but we passed them by.

  “Here we are,” Zak said, opening one of the doors.

  It was like a room, complete with comfortable furniture, decorated panels on the walls and rugs on the floor, except that one wall was completely open. And beyond it, the arena, a circle of sand, ringed by tier upon tier of spectators.

  “Oh, a tournament,” I said in delight.

  The servants brought food and drink, and not the dainty stuff I’d grown so tired of, but meat and hunks of bread, cheese and plain fruit, with wine or ale to drink. Friends of Zak’s drifted in, and the evening became one of those all-male affairs, with jokes and ribald stories and good-humoured teasing, a comradeship which wrapped around me like a familiar old riding cloak, warm and comforting. It was many years since I’d been part of a group like that, without any bitterness or anger or jousting for position.

  Eventually the moon rose far enough to light the fighting pit and the tournament began. There were contests for any number of we
apons, including some I’d never seen before, but naturally it was the swordplay which enthralled me. My companions were knowledgeable about every contestant, and happy to explain subtleties of strokes or defensive manoeuvres. They trained from the age of five, they told me, and even twelve-year-olds could enter a tournament. I could tell as much. Such grace, such precision, such speed! Skirmishers, the professionals of the Karningplain, were like a herd of kishorn, by comparison.

  I was ashamed to call myself a swordsman in such company. But then I’d never had any proper training. I’d learnt to use knives in self-defence, but I’d never even handled a sword until I was dumped into the middle of a war. It took me about three days to get over the shock, and realise that the best way to survive was to be better than my fellow warriors. But practising relentlessly wasn’t enough, I needed skills. So I watched them all, picked out the few who knew what they were doing, and pestered them until they taught me all they knew. That was how I fell into Kestimar’s path, and I’ve never quite worked out yet whether that was a piece of good luck or bad.

  There have been many memorable evenings in my life, although most of them involved women, it had to be said. That evening was up there with the best, a display of the art of swordwork that I would never forget. And they kept the best for last, a great bear of a man wielding two swords who took on three opponents at once. He moved those blades so fast they were nothing but a blur, and for all his size, he was the nimblest fighter I’ve ever seen. He was breath-taking, defeating his three challengers without apparent effort.

  The crowd erupted with delighted cheers and stamping of feet. A popular champion.

  “Do you believe me now?” Zak said with his ready smile. “Didn’t I tell you I’d show you sights you’ve never seen before?”

  To my embarrassment, I could only agree to it with a bemused laugh. How had I ever thought I had any talent with a sword? What a fool I was.

  “Would you like to come to the training grounds for a bit of practice some time?” he said.