The Dragon's Egg

by Pauline M. Ross

  Sometimes we just played games. She would light a glowing ball in her cupped hand, and I made shadow-shapes on the wall to amuse her – hares and eagles and moundrats and dung beetles. She giggled, one hand over her mouth. “Do another one!” she’d say, and I did.

  I was under her spell, that was the truth of it. I’d always been drawn to her, almost from the first moment, but I’d never seen her as a lover. Now she was everything a man could wish for, and I was almost completely happy. If we could have turned around and gone back – to Mesanthia, to the Western Keep, anywhere – and been a couple in the ordinary way, I would have been the happiest man alive. But the eggs, the wretched eggs, that she was determined to wake up, they spoilt everything. And she was a mage, I had to keep reminding myself. She was not like me.

  “Can you really see into my mind?” I asked her once.

  “Only when we touch,” she said, taking my hand and smiling in that new way she had, that made my heart turn somersaults. “Now I can feel whatever you feel – the way you love me, bewilderment when you don’t understand, desire when you make love to me. But now—” She dropped my hand again. “Nothing. When I grow into my powers, I will be able to see into every mind, and change the way people feel, so that they will gladly do my bidding. Not you, of course – unless you try to leave me. I couldn’t allow that, could I?” And she laughed happily, as if it was a great joke.

  I shivered. Such power as she would have, one day. Fifteen years, she’d said. That was how long it would take to reach her full powers. But I could see the changes in her every day, almost every hour. Each time she made a glowball, it was a little stronger. One time she made water jump from the flask, where it sat in my hand, straight into her mouth. Another time she carved our names into the wall of the tunnel, using just one finger. And then she started tramping around in my mind, dredging up memories from years ago, things I could barely remember myself, and asking about them.

  It was frightening, and that’s the truth. Even as I adored her, she terrified me.

  We walked on and on, and we must have ended up in the very heart of the mountain, for the tunnels led downwards, always downwards.

  And there it was, glowing softly, a vast cavern with a smooth stone floor. Heaped up in the centre, a mountain of eggs. My jaw dropped. There must have been hundreds – no, thousands of them, looking almost the same as real dragon’s eggs, except that all of them were identical in size and shape and colour. There were none of the little variations that marked real dragon’s eggs.

  Drusinaar squealed in delight and raced across to touch them. “Look, Garrett! So many! This is wonderful – I never expected such a hoard. Come and feel them.”

  They were warm, it seemed to me, even though they looked like marble. There was the faintest tingle of magic, that was all. But Drusinaar was almost quivering with excitement.

  “We have to— Oh, look!”

  She pointed, and there, near one of the several tunnel openings around the cavern perimeter, stood four of the oddest creatures I’d ever seen. Small but upright, with ragged brown clothes, and big blue eyes that whirled. Their faces were strangely human, even though it was obvious they weren’t human at all. Maybe I was numb from all the bizarre things that had happened, but I felt no fear. They didn’t look frightening, and anyway, I was with Drusinaar.

  Drusinaar called out to them in some language I didn’t understand, and they chittered back, bobbing their heads about. One of them took a few running steps forward, then stopped and bowed deeply.

  “They’re morodaim,” Drusinaar said cheerfully, as any normal person might say ‘They’re moundrats’ or ‘They’re goats’, as though it were some completely usual thing to encounter.

  “Morodaim?” I said helplessly. I tried looking through their eyes, but I couldn’t do it. They were just too different from humans.

  “The dragon helpers. They used to keep the dragons’ nests clean. If ever you get lost in these tunnels, they’ll show you the way out. Don’t look so anxious, Garrett – they’re quite harmless. Now, can you help me carry this egg over to one of those braziers over there?”

  “Braziers?” The eggs had befuddled my brain so much I hadn’t even noticed them there, several of them placed around the walls. They were huge things on five legs, with a large burning basket and then a holder on top where, presumably, the egg was supposed to rest as it was flamed.

  So many of them! I had the deepest sense of foreboding about those eggs. And she was going to crack them open, and release the creatures inside – creatures like her. I tried to imagine thousands more Drusinaars, but my mind wasn’t big enough. That was far, far more than the number of mages whose combined power had almost destroyed the world.

  But I didn’t argue. There was no point, for her heart was set on it. So I carried the egg across to the nearest brazier. It wasn’t as heavy as I’d expected, but even so, the receptacle for it on the brazier was way out of my reach.

  “Now what?” I said, resting the egg at my feet.

  She said something to the morodaim again, they chittered back at her and then vanished. A little while later, they emerged pulling some kind of platform device on wheels, with ladders and a basket on one side filled with dusters on sticks. A cleaning platform. But it did the trick, for I was able to scramble up the flimsy ladders and, with a stretch, place the egg in the basket. It was just as well I was short, because the platform was designed for the child-sized morodaim. A more normal-sized man would never have managed it.

  “So how are you going to flame it?” I said, remembering Marisa’s tale of Drusinaar’s egg, and how big a fire it had needed before the egg cracked.

  “I don’t know,” she said, with a frown. “The mages didn’t talk about that part. I suppose they thought it was obvious. But it has to be a very hot fire. I don’t think I have the power for that.”

  She held out one hand, and flames appeared from her fingers, larger than before, but still small, sad things.

  “No matter,” she said. “The brazier has a huge burning basket. All we need is wood, or fuel of some kind.”

  A flick of one finger brought one of the morodaim running, and Drusinaar said something that sent them running off again. This time they were gone for longer.

  “I’ve sent them for something to burn,” she said. “Decent wood, I hope. Then we’ll be able to get started.” Her eyes glittered with excitement.

  “Are you sure this is such a good idea?” I said. It was feeble, but I had to try. “Do you really want to bring back more mages? Why not leave the eggs for now? Then you would be the only mage in the world. You would be a queen – an empress.”

  “I will be anyway,” she said, with an indifferent shrug. “I’m the first, so of course I will rule. But Garrett, don’t you understand – these are my people. They’re all like me, exactly like me. I want to be surrounded by mages, just as you are surrounded by your people. You wouldn’t want to deny me the company of my equals.”

  “How many equals will you need, for company?”

  “All of them, of course! They are living souls, they deserve to be free, don’t they? I’m going to waken all the eggs in this hoard, and then, while the morodaim look after them and help them grow, I’m going to find all the other hoards. And you’re going to help me, Garrett, as my consort.”

  “What if I want to be free?” I said quietly.

  She laughed merrily. “Silly boy! You love me, so you’re going to stay with me for ever, and help me rule the world.”

  Oh, Drusinaar, so confident, so powerful, so terrifying.

  It was an age before the morodaim came scuttling back in pulling small carts full of wood. This time they didn’t need me, for they willingly climbed the ladders on their cleaning cart, passing chunks of wood hand to hand up to the topmost one, who lobbed it into the basket. It was a big basket, and the chunks were very small.

  “This is going to take a long time, and I don’t think I’m needed,” I said. “Do you mind if I sit over t
here and check my crossbow? I’d like to be sure it wasn’t harmed when it got dropped.”

  “Of course,” Drusinaar said absently, without taking her eyes from the brazier.

  I found a spot to sit against the wall, and pulled out my crossbow. It was so beautiful, the black wood sleek and smooth, the odd circular grain giving it an unusual charm. People had their own beauty, but a work of craftsmanship excited a different kind of admiration in me. I’d had a sword once, one that I’d bought with some of my winnings in Bennamore, and it was the most exquisite thing imaginable. I’d take it out sometimes in my room at night, just to admire the way the light caught it, and the perfectly balanced heft of it in my hands.

  That didn’t last long. Kestimar had coveted it, and before long he’d found an excuse to take it from me. Then he tangled with the mages down at Dristomar, and the sword got twisted out of shape. He was a fool, sometimes, Kestimar. He never had much judgement. There are times when it pays to push back, and times when you just have to drift along. Knowing the difference, knowing exactly the right moment to move, that’s the real skill in life, just as in combat or in battle. Drift, drift, drift, and then, when it’s least expected, you pounce.

  So I ran my hands over the crossbow, feeling every inch of it for damage, for the slightest misalignment. The ratchet mechanism still worked perfectly. I fitted a quarrel, primed the bow, checked that everything was as it should be. And then I sat, holding it loosely in my hands, enjoying the solid weight of it, the elegance of it, the strange magic buried deep within it.

  The morodaim finished their work, the brazier filled to the brim. Chittering, they stood aside, watching.

  And Drusinaar, as I knew she would, turned to me with a smile of such joy on her face, such eagerness, such love. And I loved her too, with every single part of my body.

  Then I raised my crossbow and shot her through the heart.

  Epilogue: The Return (Garrett)

  It took me the best part of the winter to get back to the west coast, working my passage, or gambling for small coins to pay for cheap inns and seats on carrier wagons. I took the Coastway to Minaar, and then the seagoing cargo barges. Gods, but I was sick of the water by the time I got to the Golden Coast. From there, I travelled by land, keeping my head down and avoiding the Tre’annatha authorities.

  By the time I got close enough, the nightmares had almost stopped.

  Then most of a moon to find a captain brave enough, or foolish enough, to take me across the water to the Windblown Isle. Kestimar’s fearsome reputation was widespread, I discovered. The merchants had quickly organised themselves into well-armed convoys. Lacking unprotected ships to prey on, Kestimar had taken to raiding small farming settlements along the coast with fire and sword. No one wanted to tangle with him.

  But I moved from port to port, and asked around, and gambled enough to build up a sizable purse as temptation, and eventually I found someone greedy enough to risk it. Even then, he made sure that Kestimar’s fast little sword ships had been seen heading north, and he would only take me part way – I would have to row the rest of the way myself.

  I insisted on daylight, though. I knew there’d be a watch day and night, and I wanted them to see me arrive, in case of misunderstandings. No point trying to explain that you’re friendly when you’re full of arrows.

  That was a good move, as it turned out. Someone on the clifftop must have recognised me, for they held off on the arrows. There was a welcome party at the pier, bristling with swords, but I’d expected that.

  “Hey there! It’s me, Garrett!” I yelled, as soon as I was near enough. Drawing the oars into the boat, I raised my arms to show that I was unarmed. “May I come ashore?”

  The boat drifted nearer to the pier, and nothing was said. Taking that for permission, I set to the oars again, and drew alongside the pier. Two men jumped into the boat, and hauled me to my feet.

  “Hey, no need for that! I’m a friend of Tella’s – your Queen.” Then a face I recognised. “Mikah! Thank the Gods! Tell them who I am.”

  He chewed his lip uncertainly, but he spoke readily enough. “Garrett’s an old friend. He was sold to the slavers. Not sure how he got loose again.”

  That made me laugh. “What, did you think I’d be chained to an oar for the rest of my life? No chance. I won my freedom. Who’s in charge here? You there? Look, I’ve come to talk to Tella, that’s all. I’m an old friend of hers from Karningplain days. I promise you, I mean no harm to anyone here.”

  Fortunately, there were two or three who remembered me. Their commander wasn’t one of them, but he was a sensible man, a battle-toughened veteran judging by the array of scars on his face and arms, and older than many of Kestimar’s men. He nodded.

  “Best if we take you to see her,” he said. “She can decide what to do with you.”

  “Fine by me.” One of them picked up my pack, and the roll containing my sword. “I’ll expect to find everything just as I left it,” I said conversationally. “I’d hate to have to kill you.”

  They escorted me in silence up to the palace. They must have had some sort of signalling system from the cliffs, because Tella was waiting for me. Not in the pillared splendour of the grand chamber from my first visit, but in a smaller room, bare apart from a single chair and a cushioned window seat. She hadn’t had time to put on one of her silk confections, but she looked magnificent, all the same, although I thought she was tired. There were small wrinkles at the edge of her eyes, and her skin had lost some of its lustre.

  But her smile was as dazzling as ever. “Garrett! What an unexpected pleasure. Gentlemen, you may leave us. Garrett will not harm me. Yes, leave his gear, too.”

  They shuffled out, one or two looking curiously at me, but I guessed most had known Tella long enough not to be surprised at her orders.

  “Now, come and sit beside me,” she said, ushering me to the window seat. “You’ve lost weight, Garrett. Have you had a rough time?” She brushed aside a lock of hair that had fallen over my face. “But you escaped the slavers and now you’ve come back to me.” She must have read my expression, for she corrected herself at once. “Ah! You’re not here for me. Evading the law? No? Unfinished business with Kestimar?”

  “No, not that either. I have no quarrel with Kestimar, and if he’ll leave me in peace, I can live with him.”

  “You want to stay, then?”

  “Yes, if you’ll let me. You offered once, but I had a job to do, then. Now that it’s done…” My voice wavered, but Tella didn’t notice.

  “This is excellent news. Your arrival is very fortuitous, Garrett, for I have great need of your services just now.”

  My heart sank. A quiet life, for once – was it so much to ask? To settle down into obscurity, do a day’s work and sleep dreamlessly at night, with no complications.

  “Tella, I—”

  “It’s Kestimar – he’s out of control. He’s destroying everything. He needs to be – dealt with.”

  “Dealt with?”

  “Got rid of.”

  “No.”

  “Garrett, no one else can stand up to him. They’re all terrified of him, and it makes them stupid. But you—”

  “No. I’ve done enough killing in my life, and I want no more of it. I’ll not even make an exception for Kestimar. He can die in his bed of old age with my blessing. If you want him dead, you’ll have to kill him yourself.”

  “Well, maybe I will. And then you can help me run this place, and—”

  “No, Tella,” I said with a sigh. “You chose to make yourself a raider, to live like a parasite preying on honest folk. If you want my advice, get your people to turn their hands to sensible trade – farming, and fishing, and suchlike. Or brewing – the ale’s dreadful along the Golden Coast, you could make a fortune. Or join up with a shipbuilder and make more of those sword ships. They’re much needed round here.”

  “Hmm. I still don’t know why you came back.”

  I rummaged in my pack. “I brought back s
omething that was stolen from you.” I held out the glass ball.

  “Oh, my ball! I—” As soon as she took hold of it, she screeched and dropped it. The inside of it swirled an angry black.

  “I’ve never seen it do that before,” I said, puzzled. When I picked it up, the black cleared and it was just plain glass. But maybe its dip in the pool had changed it. Despite a lot of practising, I still hadn’t managed to see anything in it, but its magic had shown me the door out of the refuge in the mountains, and I could make fire, too, just a little. It was attuned to me, now, just as it had once been attuned to—

  “You’ve broken it, Garrett. You’d better keep it.”

  “Fine.” I tucked it away again. “But if you want to know, I’m here for the boy – my son. Ruell. I’d hate him to grow up with no better father figure in his life than Kestimar.”

  Her face softened. “Ah, Ruell! Yes, he needs his father. I thought he might have tempted you to stay when you were here before, but you insisted on leaving. I’m glad you changed your mind.”

  More than my mind had been changed. I’d travelled round half the continent, and seen sights I’d never have believed, and been torn into tiny pieces by all that had happened. I wasn’t sure I could ever put myself back together again, not the way I was before. How could I go back to that mindless drifting, the constant search for new excitement? Tella had given me a great gift, and I hadn’t even realised it, at first.

  “So you won’t make difficulties, then?” I said.

  She smiled. “No. But I won’t allow you to force your way into his life, either. We’ll introduce you gently.”

  “Fine. We can start as soon as you like.”

  “Patience, Garrett, patience.”

  ~~~~~

  It wasn’t long before I bumped into Mikah again. He was fletching arrows in the armoury where I’d been sent to sweep the floors. I rested on my broom for a moment. “Thank you for speaking up for me the other day. Some of these folk are a bit twitchy with a bow.”