by Alex Bledsoe
I nodded. “And you are . . . ?”
He sat up and yawned. “Chester Lesperitt. You’ve met my daughter.”
I said nothing.
He waved one gloved hand at my inner office. “Can we talk privately? There are many things I need to tell you, and I’m sure you have many questions.”
I escorted him to the inner office, closed and locked the door and sat behind my desk. He went to the window and discreetly peered out, as if watching for anyone spying on us. Satisfied, he sat in the guest chair.
“First, I want to thank you for trying to save my Laura. I wish you had succeeded, of course, but I also appreciate the effort.”
I licked my dry lips and, as casually as I could, asked the question whose answer I both anticipated and dreaded. “So how do you know Liz Dumont?”
“Oh, I’ve known Liz all her life,” he said. “Her and her sister Cathy. Haven’t seen them in years, but when they were children they came to my church with their parents.”
I sighed and rubbed the bridge of my nose. Of course, of fucking course. Harry Lockett even told me Lesperitt came from Bonduel, original home of the Dumont sisters. How had that not registered? Maybe Candora’s whack to my head had done some permanent damage after all.
“I can’t tell you how surprised I was to see her here,” he continued.
“So did Liz know Laura?”
He shook his head. “Liz and Cathy left before Laura was born. They really weren’t with us that long; it’s just that they stood out: beautiful redheaded twin sisters, just on the cusp of womanhood. They attracted a lot of attention.”
“No kidding,” I agreed. “So why are you here?”
“In Neceda?”
“In my office.”
“You were the last person to see Laura alive. She knew something, something more important than you can imagine. Something people were, and are, willing to kill for.” He paused. “Did she tell you?”
I shook my head. “She didn’t tell anyone. That’s why they’re still out there looking for Lumina.”
He sighed with relief and showed no surprise that I knew the name. “That’s good, Mr. LaCrosse. That’s very, very good. That just saved your life. You have no idea what they’re seeking, no idea.”
“A dragon egg?” I said nonchalantly.
His eyes opened wide in surprise. “She did tell you.”
“No, she didn’t. But I’m paid to make connections.”
He sighed. “In this case, you’re wrong.”
“You just said I wasn’t.”
“No, I just said that it wasn’t a dragon egg.”
“Then what is it?”
He tossed his hair wearily from his face and said, “Two dragon eggs.”
“Two.”
“Yes. Two nascent gods awaiting the moment of their creation.”
“They’d be hundreds of years old,” I pointed out.
“That doesn’t matter. The fire within them, the spark they inherit from their parents, never goes out. The eggs will stay viable until something destroys them, or triggers their hatching.”
“What triggers them?”
“No one knows.”
“But you believe they’re there.”
“I know they are, Mr. LaCrosse.”
I pulled my bottle from my desk, took out the cork with my teeth and drank a long swallow. It tasted better than any drink I’d ever taken. I did not offer any to Lesperitt. “And just how,” I asked wearily, “do you know? Have you seen them?”
“Yes,” he answered simply. “Laura found them long ago, still beside the skeleton of their mother, Lumina, during a religious pilgrimage. We were waiting for the right time to bring them into the open again, so that they might be tended and worshipped. But when that ass Tempcott showed up, waving his skull and making outrageous claims, Laura believed his lies, believed he was sent by Solarian. But she was smart enough not to give away our secret. Then Marantz got involved, and . . . my girl died.”
I looked at the bottle, but still didn’t offer it to him. I was a hard-ass, after all.
“When Laura realized what she’d gotten into, it was too late. I discovered Marantz sent her to Neceda ahead of Tempcott, so I came here as well. She escaped from the men trying to force her to reveal the location, and came to me. I was all she had.”
He paused, and his eyes grew shiny. “She was such a pretty little thing, and to see what those awful men had done to her . . .”
Well, my ass wasn’t that hard. I passed him the bottle.
He continued, “We went to the cave, found the eggs and hid them somewhere else. That’s how this happened.” He held up the gloves. “The eggs were still hot enough to scald, which we didn’t know until it was too late. Do you know dragon burns never heal?”
He took one glove off to show me his hand. It looked like he’d stuck his palm flat against a cooking stove sometime within the last day. Laura’s hands had looked the same. Worse, the faint odor of rotted, overcooked meat filled the room and threatened to gag me. “You can’t imagine how much this hurts. These gloves are the only way I can even function, but they do nothing for the pain. But the eggs were too important to risk falling into Tempcott’s hands. After we moved them, we split up and planned to meet back here in Neceda. But she never arrived until . . .” He looked down and sighed with the weight of the truly lost.
There was no denying the reality of his injuries, and his story held together and explained a lot. Well, except for the part about real dragon eggs. “Okay, so why tell me all this now?”
He wiped his eyes on the backs of the mittens and looked up at me. “Because, Mr. LaCrosse, I had this same conversation with Liz, and she went to find the eggs for herself. And she hasn’t come back.”
chapter
TWENTY-THREE
I
dragged the little gnome across town to the inn where Argoset and his pet Gargantua kept their rooms. I was probably too rough about it, and at least one person on the street roused himself from his post-hanging merriment to complain that I shouldn’t treat an old man that way. I didn’t care.
Before this, in my office, Lesperitt provided the rest of his story. When Liz failed to return by yesterday evening, he’d gone to Gary Bunson first thing this morning to report her missing. Gary had brushed him off before he could mention Liz’s name, he was so wrapped up in the upcoming hanging. That rang true, all right; anything that required Gary to actually do his job, especially amid the chaos of a public execution, would’ve sent him skittering under the nearest table like the cockroach he was. Then Lesperitt approached Argoset, who listened politely and promised to look into it. Since Argoset had not mentioned this to me at all in Gary’s office, either he forgot or he knew more than I first thought he did. He didn’t strike me as the forgetful type, so it was time to pile everyone in one place and start kicking until someone talked.
Just before we left my office I asked Lesperitt one last question, the one I really needed answered. “Why? Why would Liz even care about made-up dragons, after all this time?”
He looked at me with an almost infinite weariness. The back-lighting through the window gave him an infuriatingly serene, holy demeanor, and he spoke with the patience of a priest addressing an acolyte. “Have you ever believed in anything, Mr. LaCrosse? Especially when you were young, not yet aware of how ugly the world can be? We do anything to hold on to that spark that says the world is a magical place where gods can be found and touched. Even as old, cynical adults, that hope never fully goes away. That’s why she went. For the chance, however small, to touch a god she had once believed in.”
I did know a thing or two about belief, and about gods that could be touched. But I’d never shared that story with anyone, even Liz. I tried not to dwell on the fact that now I might never have the chance. Instead I said, “Even if dragons once existed, even if they existed now, they’d just be animals. Big lizards or snakes or something. Not gods.”
He smiled at me in what he probably m
eant to be a compassionate and sad way. It came out patronizing, and restoked the fury he’d momentarily doused with his feel-good mumbo jumbo. I grabbed him by the back of his collar, shoved him ahead of me toward the door and growled, “Yeah, well, keep your gods to yourself, pal. You better hope nothing happens to Liz, or you might be seeing your daughter sooner than you think.” It was a cruel thing to say, but I was in a cruel mood.
A short walk later we went through the lobby of the Saraden’s Sword, the only inn ritzy enough for an envoy from Sevlow. Its small tavern was usually reserved for guests only, but a hanging was a special occasion, and the revelers would have simply broken in had they not been freely welcomed.
Slats Pickering, the inn’s owner, was halfheartedly trying to keep the drunks under control. He looked up, smiled and said, “Hey, Eddie, what are you—” But something in my face made him abruptly fall silent.
“What room is that guy from the capital in?” I demanded. I must’ve radiated bad humor, because the patrons gave me plenty of room.
“Seven. The suite. Top of the stairs to the right. He’s in there right now.”
“And that big guy with him?”
“Eight, right next door.”
“The rooms connect?”
“No.”
“Seen the big guy today?”
“No. He left this morning and hasn’t come back.”
I nodded curtly. Some days it was good to be intimidating. I slapped a coin on the counter. “Send someone to get Gary Bunson, and when he gets here send him up to that room.”
Pickering nodded. I pushed Lesperitt up the stairs to the indicated door. It was the only room in the place that had a separate sitting room and bedroom, the closest thing to classy accommodations to be found in Neceda. I put my ear to the wood and heard nothing over the noise from downstairs. I started to knock, but decided I’d been polite enough under the circumstances. I drew back and, despite the protest in my hip, kicked the door open.
Argoset, shirtless, looked up sharply from the basin where he was washing his hands. The sudden movement splashed water onto the girl seated in one of the padded chairs. She gasped, “Hey!” and covered her undergarments, all she currently wore, with her hands. Through the bedroom door behind them, the rumpled sheets confirmed what their state of undress implied.
“Is there a reason for this intrusion?” Argoset said, in a voice that could probably reduce cadets and stable pages to tears.
It was less successful on me. I slammed the door behind me and shoved Lesperitt toward one of the other chairs. “Sit down,” I said, and he obeyed. I stepped challengingly close to Argoset. “This guy told you my girlfriend disappeared. You did nothing about it, and you didn’t mention it to me when I saw you this morning. I’m going to find out why.”
I turned to the girl in the chair. I’d recognized her at once. “For a girl so worried about her cherry, you gave it up quick enough, didn’t you, Nicky? Or do you prefer ‘Your Highness’?”
Nicky’s mouth opened to protest, but she thought better of it. Instead she nodded and said calmly, “A worldly man like you would know there are many pleasures for men and women that don’t involve that, Eddie. How did you recognize me?”
“Your face is on some of the money.” And that really was true, but I’d been inclined that way by her delirious mutterings about her brother, Ricky. “Ricky and Nicky,” were common slang names for Frederick and Veronica in Muscodian gossip, often used in rude rhymes about their supposed decadence. The clincher had been a fresh look at the official portrait in Gary’s office that morning. “Great way to keep an eye on your brother, too, for a girl not concerned with her modesty.”
Nicky stood, and her poise was definitely regal. She pulled a robe on over her undergarments. “I seem to have a hard time keeping my clothes on around you, Eddie.”
“I’ve heard that all my life.”
She did not smile. She no longer looked like a vulnerable teenager, but like a hard, professional politician. “The fate of Muscodia is far more important to me than to my idiot brother. I can’t keep him from behaving like the moron he is, but I can ensure that he does as little damage as possible until he either grows up or debauches himself to death.”
“And leaves you next in line for the throne.”
She cinched the belt tight. “I thank you for your kindness to me, Eddie, but this is a matter of state and you, as a private citizen and an immigrant, are not involved.”
“That’s the first wrong thing you’ve said, Princess.” I drew my sword; in the small sitting room it loomed very, very large. “I got involved when Marantz’s hatchet man dropped me, this guy’s daughter and the best horse in the world off a cliff. And I’m in it until someone either pays for that or drops me off a much higher cliff.”
Argoset made a move, probably innocuous, but I slapped his bare stomach with the flat of my sword anyway. “You’re not up to it, fancy pants, and I’ve got no compunctions about gutting you right here. I don’t like liars or king’s lackeys, and you’re both. So why didn’t you tell me that this little bozo sent Liz off into the woods?”
Argoset winced and clutched his stomach; the blow would leave a red mark, but nothing serious. He cast a look at Nicky, who said nothing. “It seems you’ve forced your way into this issue far enough to become a legitimate part of it,” he said to me, and tried to step closer. The point of my sword stopped him. He raised his hands in a gesture of capitulation and stepped back. “All right, fine. But please listen carefully. I’m going to pronounce a few words. They’re harmless words. Just a bunch of letters scrambled together. But their meaning is very important. Try to understand what they mean.” He spoke softly but with real urgency. “Glaurung. Scatha. Vermithrax. Solarian.”
“Lumina,” I finished.
“Lumina,” he said with a nod.
I almost laughed aloud. These were the names of famous storybook dragons everyone in the world knew from childhood. “So you believe this dragon-egg bullshit, too.”
“I believe in my country, Mr. LaCrosse. Muscodia has been the butt of jokes for too long. We have trade routes we don’t tax, borders that allow any riffraff to cross, and a king so self-involved he truly thinks he’d be mobbed by grateful citizens if he steps outside his castle.”
I looked at Nicky. “I don’t mind being called ‘riffraff,’ but are you going to let him talk about your father like that?”
“Yes, because he’s right. I love my father, and as a parent he’s the kindest, gentlest man you can imagine. But as a head of state he’s an utter failure. And Frederick is just like him, except for all the new vices he keeps inventing for himself.”
“And you’d be better?”
She had the dignity of royalty, and the certainty of untested youth. “I wouldn’t be perfect, no. But I would be better.”
Argoset actually made a fist and held it up to show how serious he was. “If they’re real, think about the power possessing those eggs would bestow on us. Not only could we prove the existence of gods, for those who need to believe in such things, but we’d also have the ultimate deterrent, a weapon so powerful that no one would dare attack us for fear of unleashing it.” He smacked his fist into his other palm for emphasis, which just made him look silly.
“And if they’re not real, which they aren’t?” I said.
He shrugged. “Then no harm has been done.”
I was cosmically tired of people shrugging things off. My blood began to simmer. “Except that this man’s daughter is dead because of it,” I said, nodding at Lesperitt. “And I was damn near killed. And Liz . . .” I choked on the words and couldn’t finish the sentence. My chest grew tight at the thought.
“None of that had anything to do with us,” Nicky said. “That was all Gordon Marantz’s doing.”
While my eyes were on Nicky, Argoset moved to his left, toward the hook where his sword hung along with his jacket. I poked him in the stomach again and he stopped moving. “So Muscodia gets a big stick to wav
e at the other backwater countries. And you get the princess, for bringing the dragon home instead of slaying it. Not a bad promotion for a career soldier.”
“I love her,” he said with a nod to Nicky. “And it’s mutual.”
I chuckled. They had no idea how angry I was. “Nice. Where’s your gorilla Marion, anyway?”
Argoset blinked in surprise. “Marion? He has his own room. What does that have to do with anything?”
“I’m not sure. I’m digging through this Lumina nonsense because it’s personal, but I’m also on retainer to find out why your boy killed Hank Pinster and burned down his stable.”
Argoset said nothing. I smacked him in the stomach again and said, “I know he did it.”
Argoset gasped at the pain. “You knew that man didn’t kill the moon priestess, too.”
He was quick; I had to give him that. “Touché. But I saw how Hank was murdered. There’s no one else within a week’s travel strong enough to do it that way.”
For a moment I thought I’d have to smack him again; then he blurted in defeat, “It was an accident. Really, I swear.”
“What happened?”
“Marion said he was going to ask around, see if anyone had seen Mr. Lesperitt. Usually the local blacksmith knows everyone, even the people who don’t live in town.”
“Why would you want to find me?” Lesperitt asked in a thin voice.
Argoset turned to him, one eye warily on me. “Because once Marantz killed your daughter, you were the only link to the eggs. Luckily, you came to us.” Then he sighed and shook his head. “I took Marion out of prison two years ago to basically stand behind me and provide the, ah . . . scale I might lack. I’m not that intimidating, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. He went through military training, took his oath to the king, never gave me any indication he was capable of anything like that.”
“What was he in prison for?” I asked.
Argoset looked down. “He murdered a man over a woman. Killed him with his bare hands.”
My knuckles were white on my sword hilt. “No indication,” I repeated. “So when Hank told Marion he didn’t know this old man, your boy didn’t believe him.”
