Dragonsbane

by Shae Ford

  It’d certainly been worth the wait to see just how horribly Chaucer’s head would swell: he wound up having to wrap his face in bandages and call the session short.

  But now, as that still-swollen eye glared down at him, Thelred realized that it was Chaucer’s turn to do the stinging. He was about to find out if it’d all truly been worth it.

  Chaucer’s boots dragged as he stepped around to the front of his desk. He spent a long moment folding up the piece of parchment he’d been reading. His fingers slid along each crease with deliberate slowness, pinching them tightly at their ends. When he’d finally shoved the parchment inside his coat pocket, he tsked and shook his head.

  “Tell me, thief … why were your little rat ears planted against my door?”

  Why were you allying with our enemies? The words leapt to the tip of Thelred’s tongue just as the sword at his chest dug in. He grit his teeth. “I wasn’t listening. I was just —”

  “Thelred!”

  Aerilyn swept in, her eyes already wet with tears. She threw herself upon Chaucer and gasped: “Please don’t hurt him, chancellor. He isn’t well —”

  “Aerilyn?”

  She spun as if she’d just taken an arrow to the back. “Countess D’Mere! What a surprise. I didn’t expect to — oops.” She went to drop into a quick curtsy and tripped instead — barely managing to catch herself on Chaucer’s coat. “Oh my, I’m so terribly sorry!”

  “It’s fine, it’s fine. Stand up, girl,” Chaucer grouched as he propped her onto her feet.

  Thelred realized that the only thing that might save them now was the fact that Aerilyn and the Countess seemed to know each other. He hoped they were on good terms … though judging by the look on the Countess’s face, they weren’t.

  Her hands curled into claws at her sides. She stared at the bump beneath Aerilyn’s dress with her lips sealed shut. The skin around her eyes had paled … yet the arches of her cheeks burned a furious red.

  “What happened to you?”

  Four words. Four simple words, and the room filled with ice.

  Chaucer — that complete and total idiot — chose that very moment to let out a laugh. “This is what becomes of a pirate’s whore,” he said, waving a hand at Aerilyn’s belly.

  The Countess’s eyes snapped up to him. “Indeed.”

  Two syllables — two thrusts of a knife. Thelred could hear each flick of her tongue twisting in and out. But Chaucer went on laughing, deaf to the danger.

  Aerilyn placed her hands over her stomach protectively. “My husband and I are expecting our first child, Countess.”

  “Husband?” she hissed.

  “Yes, Countess. I’ve got a few months left to go. I expect I’ll get quite a bit more swollen before then — but we’re ever so excited. Please, Countess,” tears sprang into her eyes as she looked down at Thelred, “please don’t hurt him.”

  There weren’t enough swears in the Kingdom. Had he known every mage-word and half the desert tongues, Thelred didn’t think he would’ve ever been able to express his profound … displeasure with Aerilyn.

  The whole icy edge of the Countess’s gaze swept across him. “Your husband is a pirate?”

  Her stare made the backs of Thelred’s eyes ache, but he tried to meet it. He knew full well that Aerilyn was bargaining for their lives — whether she realized it or not was another matter.

  “Yes, Countess — well, at least he used to be a pirate. Now he runs a merchanting business out of the Endless Plains.”

  Chaucer snorted. “He stole the whole business, more like. The giants refuse to deal with anybody else.”

  Slowly, the Countess’s lips slid out of their harsh line and bent into a purse. “He runs the whole plains, does he?” When Aerilyn nodded, her fists unclenched. “Your father would be pleased to hear that.”

  “I’d like to think so, Countess,” she said quietly.

  A long moment passed and Thelred could hardly stand to look. He glared at the ceiling and tried not to breathe too deeply. After a moment, the Countess waved to her guard and the sword lifted from his chest.

  “You may leave.”

  Thelred couldn’t believe it.

  Apparently Chaucer couldn’t believe it either, because he sputtered and said: “Wait a moment — there’s still the question as to why that thief was listening at my door.”

  All eyes turned to Thelred. And as he had nowhere else to look, Thelred turned to Aerilyn.

  Limp, she mouthed.

  “I … was headed to my chamber when my leg began to ache. I stopped for a moment to catch my breath, and your guard must’ve thought I was up to something.”

  Aerilyn raised her brows, silently urging him on.

  So as much as he hated it, Thelred forced himself to groan. “It’s sore every other day, but that blasted damp heat makes everything worse. I’m sorry if I’ve caused you any trouble.”

  He made a great show of wincing as he pulled himself to his feet. Aerilyn stepped up and draped one of his arms across her shoulders. “I’m sure he’ll feel better in time for the session,” she said as she helped him towards the door.

  “I do hope you’re right.” When Thelred turned, he saw the Countess watching him through a smooth mask. “You ought to go upstairs. Lie down for a while and give that leg a rest.”

  The words burned his tongue like venom, but he forced himself to spit them out: “Yes, Countess.”

  With Aerilyn helping him, they limped down the hall and into the ballroom. A few chairs were gathered in a corner of the chamber. Aerilyn sat him down and propped his leg up before she settled in beside him. One of the servants must’ve seen the sweat drenching Thelred’s tunic: he brought them both a goblet of water before returning his duties.

  “Listen to me carefully,” Aerilyn said the moment he was gone, “I need you to tell me everything you heard exactly as you heard it.”

  Thelred didn’t see what good talking about it was going to do. But he’d dealt with Aerilyn long enough to know that she’d just squawk at him until she got her way. So he told her everything he could remember.

  When he was finished, she looked slightly disappointed. “That’s it? That’s all they said?”

  “What? Were you expecting it to be worse?” Thelred hissed. “Chaucer’s signed on with the King!”

  Aerilyn waved a hand. “That was bound to happen eventually. We can’t exactly bargain our way out of trouble, now that the Duke’s dead. So Chaucer knows it’s either war or surrender.”

  “I’d choose war!”

  “Then it’s a very good thing you aren’t chancellor,” Aerilyn retorted.

  Thelred couldn’t look at her. He was far too furious. He took a steady drink of water, wishing it were something a little stronger. When he turned back, he saw Aerilyn had a leaf of parchment clutched in her hands.

  It was the very same leaf he’d seen Chaucer stuff into his coat. “You snatched that when you tried to curtsy, didn’t you?” Thelred guessed.

  She smirked. “I’m a little uneven at the moment. That doesn’t mean I’ve suddenly gotten clumsy.”

  “Where did you learn —?”

  “Lysander teaches me all sorts of things,” she said impatiently. “Now be quiet while I read.”

  Thelred looked her over. “But where did you hide it?”

  She made an indignant sound. “You aren’t allowed to ask a lady about her hiding places! Honestly, Thelred — I don’t think your manners could be any more ghastly.”

  While she read, Thelred hunched forward and tried to block her from view. They’d been sitting for no more than a few minutes when one of the forest twins appeared across the room.

  He stood, bold as a southern wind, and watched them without blinking.

  “One of the Countess’s dogs is following us,” Thelred growled.

  “I’m not surprised. She’s got an awful lot riding on this vote.” Aerilyn sighed and leaned back. “They’ve already drafted a treaty. This,” she waved the parchment, “is a
detailed list of all the things the King expects to get from the seas — not the least of which is an invasion of the mountains.”

  So that was what they’d been talking about, the claiming of new lands and the stretching of reach. Crevan had lost his grip on Titus … and he was planning to use the people of the seas to get it back.

  “That isn’t a treaty — it’s a trap,” Thelred growled. “If they haven’t starved to death, they’ll be beaten to scabs at the summit. Any man not lucky enough to die in battle will freeze to the mountainside trying to climb back down. It’s madness.”

  “Especially since there’s already an army in the mountains,” Aerilyn muttered, her eyes on the twin.

  Thelred had forgotten about that. He had to stuff a fist against his mouth to keep from swearing aloud. “We have to do something … what if I have the men steal the voting chalice?”

  “Then they’ll just put their votes in a bowl, or something. The chalice makes no difference.”

  “Well, then we’ll tamper with the votes.”

  “How? Unless I’m very much mistaken, you and I have gone to all the same meetings,” Aerilyn snipped. “There’s no secret room anymore — after Colderoy got elected, the council decided it wouldn’t risk another tampering. The chalice sits straight at the front of the ballroom and Chaucer never lets it out of his sight. And, since that nasty incident with the bees, he makes certain to keep it well beneath the balcony,” she added with a glare. “Fiddling with the votes isn’t going to be an option.”

  Thelred glared back. “Fine. Then why don’t you think of something?”

  She watched the servants bustle about for a moment, her lips twisted in a frown. Then she gasped so suddenly that it made Thelred jump. “Yes, there it is! See here.” Aerilyn pointed to a line on the conditions list. “All forces shall be supplied with weaponry and armor in the fashion of Midlan.”

  Thelred thought about it. “Crevan’s going to send them marching up the mountains dressed like a lot of scabs from Midlan … why would he do that?”

  “I haven’t got a clue. But that isn’t really what’s important, is it? We can’t stop the vote, but I think …” she smiled as she glanced over the list, “I think I might’ve figured out a way to buy us a little time. The last thing we need is for our friends in the mountains to get caught between Titus and Crevan.”

  For once, Thelred agreed. “What do you need me to do?”

  “Just sit somewhere and stay out of trouble.”

  Thelred didn’t like the idea of slumping around and leaving everything in Aerilyn’s hands. But if she was going to be running around the castle all day, he knew he couldn’t keep up. “I’ll just go upstairs, then —”

  “No!” She grabbed his shoulder tightly. “Um, I mean, it would probably be best if you stayed around people at all times. Never be alone, not even for a moment.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ve got every reason to believe the Countess will kill you the second she gets a chance.”

  Thelred’s throat went dry.

  “My father was one of her top merchants,” Aerilyn explained. “She used to visit us often. Once, when I was a little girl, I told her that a boy from the village had kissed me on the cheek. He disappeared a week later and was never heard from again. I can’t prove it, but I think my father might’ve … paid her to protect me.”

  A chill rose up Thelred’s spine. “It was probably just a coincidence.”

  “It wasn’t,” she insisted. “I knew the Countess was a bad woman. I’d heard all sorts of nasty rumors. When I asked my father why he kept working for her, he said: I owe her a great deal. In fact, I owe her everything. That was the only answer he would give me. I don’t like to think about it,” she said, cutting over the top of Thelred’s question. “Just please … don’t go anywhere alone for a while. At least until I return.”

  She stood — then promptly sat back down. “Oh, and you should probably find some excuse to stay in the ballroom. I expect Chaucer will come looking for you shortly. He’s going to offer you a spectacular deal: your life for the Endless Plains. Don’t take it.”

  She tried to stand, but he snatched her down. “What in high tide are you talking about?”

  She made a frustrated sound. “D’Mere thinks you’re my husband, but Chaucer knows you’re not. So why didn’t he out you immediately?”

  Thelred groaned. “Because he’s going to use it for leverage. Things would be much simpler if you merchants just killed each other off like civilized people.”

  She smiled wryly. “Simpler, yes. But not nearly as fun. Now, if there are no more questions, I really must —”

  “Wait.” Thelred grabbed her wrist. “You think the Countess killed a boy for kissing you on the cheek?”

  “I can’t prove it, but yes.”

  “Perfect. And now she thinks I did that to you,” he thrust a hand at the bump beneath her dress, “so I suppose it’s only a matter of time before I’m slowly tortured to death.”

  She smiled sweetly. “Don’t be ridiculous — it could be quick. Farewell, my dear, dear love.” She grabbed him by the hair and planted her lips against his forehead.

  He wiped it away with his sleeve.

  She was wrong. He could tell by the way that blasted forest guard was staring at him that his death would be a long and torturous affair. The Countess’s knife probably wouldn’t start at his important bits …

  But he bet she’d get to them eventually.

  Chapter 28

  The Lurch

  Countess D’Mere couldn’t sit still. She paced back and forth through her chambers, listening to the surf as it crashed against the rocks beneath her window. The rhythm reminded her to breathe deeply. She tried to time her breaths to match the waves.

  And she waited.

  The high-pitched moan of her door stopped her pacing. One of the twins had come to fetch her. She glanced to see which hip he wore his sword on. “Is it done, Left?”

  He turned sideways, and she knew he meant for her to follow.

  D’Mere’s heart beat faster with each step through the winding halls. She didn’t know who that cripple was, but he wasn’t Aerilyn’s husband. The pirate captain she’d written about in her letters was a handsome man — she remembered his face had been drawn on the back of one of the pages.

  The man Aerilyn was with now was a scowling lurch — probably one of her servants. Had he been the Captain Lysander she loved so dearly, D’Mere might’ve considered sparing him.

  But the lurch knew too much.

  Left broke from the side passages and led her down the main hall. She grew more frustrated the closer they got to the ballroom. “You had very specific orders to keep things quiet …”

  Music drifted over the top of her words. It wasn’t part of a ballad, or even a ballroom dance. No, this song coursed through the halls like a single, powerful thought — the inner musings of the man who played it.

  Left walked straight into the ballroom, turning to glance at D’Mere over his shoulder. He caught her eye and led her with his chin. Then he marched to join his brother.

  It was the lurch who played the piano. He was hunched over the keys; sweat hung thickly in the creases of his tunic. That horrible stump of a leg creaked each time he shifted his weight. The rough red on the back of his neck stained him against the finery of the room.

  And yet … that music.

  It covered over everything else — it hushed the councilmen and slowed the servants’ work. Ladies wandered in from all corners of the castle, peeking at him from behind their fans. Slowly, the ballroom began to fill.

  They pulled chairs from the tables and turned them around so that they faced the piano. Councilmen in their gold-embroidered garments sat next to merchants’ wives. Maids gathered at the back of the room, their chores half-folded in their arms. All were united in their gazes, their silence. Every ear equally captivated by the music’s spell.

  While the lurch sat under the watch of so many ey
es, there would be no dealing with him. So D’Mere resolved to wait.

  The front of the room had suddenly become the back. She took her place at a table near the head and turned her chair around. Before long, Chaucer appeared. The music seemed to have no effect on him: he strode straight through the crowd, arms clasped behind his back, and halted beside the piano.

  “What a charming ballad,” he said loudly.

  The music stopped.

  “Is there something I can do for you, chancellor?” The lurch’s voice was like two stones grinding against each other — every bit as unrefined as that whittled lump that hung from his knee.

  Chaucer smirked. “Yes. I was wondering if I might ask you to join me in my office. There are some things I’d like to —”

  “Oh, there’ll be plenty of time for business later,” one of the councilmen said. “I was actually beginning to enjoy myself. Let the lad finish his song!”

  Others murmured their agreement. One of the ladies started an applause that drowned out Chaucer’s protests. The stern line of his lips snapped upwards for a moment as he surrendered. He raised his hands and walked away … the skin beneath his beard turning redder with every step.

  Now this was a song that made D’Mere smile. A clever trick — one designed to keep the lurch out of her grasp and away from Chaucer’s office. As she listened with her mind tuned to this realization, she began to enjoy it.

  Music poured from the lurch in a rush, softening his edges. It was a burst of white water against the rocks, a contrast that drew her attention. And perhaps it was because the music and the lurch were such an unlikely match that D’Mere felt her lips bending into a smile.

  She rather liked surprises.

  The lurch’s hands danced across the piano’s keys for an hour more. People drifted in and out — disappearing upstairs before returning clad in their session garb. Councilmen donned blue coats over their tunics, while councilwomen wore broaches adorned with delicate blue shields.