The Last Dragon 4

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The Last Dragon 4 Page 23

by LeRoy Clary


  *He says that he will be waiting at the docks at dawn every day until you arrive. He has all the information you require.*

  *There is something you are not telling me.*

  *He has agreed that Kendra can go to her dragon. And he is sending me along with her.*

  The last came as a relief. I’d know what my sister was up to because of Anna. Also, Will’s message that he had the information we required was welcome. They had gone to Landor to find if we could persuade the kingdom to help us. The message was not clear. *Can we count of Landor to help?*

  *Will believes so. He has another meeting today and is confident.*

  *We will talk later,* I told her. *I’m very busy right now but tell both of them things are going well here, or we think they are.*

  I looked up to find Bran standing in front of me. He’d climbed down from his carriage to check on me. I wondered if I’d been using my lips to form the words in my mind again. That was a habit I had to break.

  “Are you ill?” he asked.

  “No. I just needed time to sort out a few things. This is an important day for us. The ball, and all.” My words sounded weak to my ears, and Bran knew I was lying. Not about what, but in his expression, he knew.

  He said, “Money aside because there are always a few coins to be earned with a horse and carriage in Malawi, I am here because the two of you interest me. You came into our city as dirty travelers, and in a single day, you have fine clothing fit for the king’s ball. You have an agenda, a mission, and are not the common travelers you seem.”

  “Is that a problem?” I asked.

  “Perhaps. We shall see. But I give you fair warning. If you are part of the strange happenings in the palace these days, I will fight you.”

  He had my full attention now. “What strange happenings?”

  “New people, like you, arrive from the north and are quickly appointed to positions of power. The palace usually has only one mage in residence, and that has always been true, but beginning a few years ago, more arrived. There are now six.”

  “Six seems excessive,” I agreed while cringing that six mages might be there to intercept me. I wished Kendra was here to locate them with her power. She could have warned me and kept me from walking into a possible trap.

  “Other mages came and went, but none now for almost a month. That too is odd, that those here remain, and no new ones arrive. It is not the normal way.”

  I paused before my next question, knowing Bran’s hostility could be triggered if asked wrong. I needed to ask in such a way that wouldn’t reveal what I was looking for. “How do they arrive? Ships or caravans?”

  It was his time to pause. “Neither. All of them enter the palace from the east gate and depart through the same. Now that you mention it, I’ve never seen one near the docks or the overland routes.”

  So, I’d given away unintended information with my question. That was a warning. I glanced at the tower to our left and said, “That is the West Tower, you said. Will you take me to the East Tower, if there is such a thing?”

  “There is.”

  I was not quite finished. I said, “Listen when we first met, you told us the old king has three sons. The king is ill, a son recovering from an accident. I want to know more about them. All of them. I assure you we support your king.”

  Seated in the carriage again, he told me about one prince, an expert rider, falling from a horse that spooked. He was riding alone and would have died on the trail he rode if not for accidental discovery by a poacher. I wondered why the horse was spooked, or if it had happened. The youngest son was a familiar story, too. He was chronically ill throughout his childhood. Now that he was near twenty, his health had failed again about a year ago. A medical attendant, one highly respected in his homeland was brought all the way from Kaon to care for him—at the recommendation of a mage.

  Kaon. That didn’t surprise me. The medical attendant probably pinched a measure of poison into the prince’s food daily.

  As bleak as it sounded, at first, I almost smiled. The familiar pattern was a known quantity. Knowing the enemy gave hope to understand how to defeat it. The right person reaching the ear of the king could convince him. Bran said the king’s health was failing but he still ruled. The right person to speak to the king was Princesses Elizabeth.

  The carriage rolled past government buildings, apartment houses, and the most common, two and three-story buildings with small businesses on the ground floor, the owner’s living quarters above. Often the third floor, the least desirable because of the stairs to reach it, a rental to bring in additional income. The streets were clean, the outsides of most buildings recently painted in various shades of brown and tan.

  The stores had placards or signs attached to the walls beside the doors. A shoe indicated a cobbler, a needle and thread, a seamstress. The people were happy, the appearance prosperous. I knew that as the Young Mage got his grips into Malawi, that would change as it did on other kingdoms.

  Bran kept up a monologue of interesting points of interest, where to eat a good meal, what had taken place at a location, and more. He told of the defense of the palace from the south rampart, and the damage to the wall still showed in the form of repairs and scars. Soldiers in bright uniforms marched on the ramparts. Banners and flags flew.

  But not all was as well as it seemed in Malawi. As the carriage turned to travel north on the east wall, I shook off my speculation and started watching the buildings, roads, and all else. I didn’t see what I wanted.

  Bran was watching me. “We came this way for a reason, didn’t we?”

  “I thought I’d recognize something.”

  “What are you looking for?”

  Trust? That’s a funny word as I’d discovered with the bladesmith. Nobody fully trusts another, so the word is about how much trust to give each individual. Bran hadn’t earned that trust yet, at least not much of it. Still, I didn’t have all day to search for what I wanted. I said, “I’d heard there was a Waystone near here and I wanted to see it and look at the carvings.”

  He turned away from the wall at the next intersecting street and said, “It’s down this way.”

  The houses grew smaller and more separated from each other. In a patch of woods between two stood a Waystone, almost hidden by trees and covered in vines. I climbed down, wondering why I hadn’t felt my powers increase as we got closer, and there had been no tingling of the nearness of essence. It seemed like a large gray rock the size of a large room in the center of a city.

  Closer inspection revealed the familiar style of carving, better preserved in the drier climate. I wiped my hand across an icon that looked like a house—and felt only the smallest tingling sensation that may have been my imagination. The rock was cool to the touch, not generating the warmth I expected.

  I worked my way around the entire Waystone, cleaning the icons and gaining no additional knowledge in doing so. There was no entrance, no door or way to get inside. Branches from trees growing close hung over it and without too much effort I could climb one and stand on the rounded top.

  All that would be there was stone. Mages were often old and didn’t climb trees, even to transport themselves. The Waystone was dead or dying. The dragon egg inside needed to be replaced or recharged, however, that was accomplished. I believed it needed a new egg, but the last dragon was not providing them these days, so traveling between this Waystone and others was stalled. That explained why no new mages arrived or old ones departed.

  Bran said abruptly, “The mages leaving, and arriving always come here, the locals say. They think it is a holy place, a place to pray before traveling.”

  “Do they come here on horseback?” I asked.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Me neither. And no mages have come here for weeks?”

  “That is a rumor, but true, I think.”

  I believed him because the Waystone felt almost dead.

  Anna came to mind. *Kendra has secured passage on a ship. We sail a
t dusk.*

  *Guard her well. She is not making rational choices.*

  *With my life.*

  I said to Bran, “Please take me to the Black Swan.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Elizabeth was still in the garden, circulating with guests. She flitted from one to another like the bees moving from flower to flower in spring. She spent a little time with one, more with another, never outwardly questioning them, I was sure. But she was a master at palace intrigue, and the Black Swan Inn was little different than Crestfallen.

  I would have expected her to be dressing for the ball. Bran promised to return at sunset to carry us to the ballroom, but we relieved him for the rest of the day. I sat, sipped tea, and watched.

  A gentleman came to my side and asked permission to sit with me. I agreed, introduced myself, and learned he was the owner of several cargo ships. We talked little, mostly commenting on the comings and goings of others, and he taught me a new game.

  “See that man and woman walking towards each other?”

  “I do.”

  “I will act the part of the woman,” his voice raised in pitch to speak in a higher octave. “You are a very ugly man.”

  Catching on, I said gruffly as they greeted each other, “But I have money.”

  “And with my beauty, I’ll convince you to give me all your money.”

  We laughed and ignored the disapproving looks cast our way. The wealthy, for some odd reason, like people to be quiet. He said, “That couple under the Gardenia bush? You start.”

  I covertly looked their way. They sat across from each other, both leaning over the small table to speak confidentially. I said, “My wife is understanding about these things. A man has desires.”

  Using the high-pitched voice, he said, “You must leave her and only love me.”

  “You can trust me,” I said. We exploded into laughter again.

  He said, “What is your business in Malawi?”

  “We have a few messages to pass on and then we have to depart.”

  “Your ‘sister’ does not look like you.”

  The statement put me off. Not because it was not true, but because I suddenly believed the man was pecking at me for information like a chicken pecking for the last bit of grain on the ground. I said, “Long story.”

  “I love long stories.”

  I stood. “Wonderful. Perhaps tomorrow I can tell it to you, and we can play the game of pretending to become others, too. For now, I must take care of a few urgent chores.”

  I walked past Elizabeth, caught her eye, and flashed our two-finger signal for a warning, and looked over my shoulder to wave to the man as I hurried into the inn. She knew to be careful of him.

  Once inside, the woman who had initially greeted us asked if we were pleased with the inn and could she be of service. I said, “Yes, you can. A man has mentioned a business opportunity, but I do not know him. Would you allow me to point him out?”

  She said stiffly, “We do not give out information or recommendations about guests.”

  We were at the rear door of the inn, peeking out. She might not profess to give out information, but her nose was in the crack just as far as mine. I whispered, “There, sitting alone near that woman in the green dress.”

  “He is no guest of ours. I do not know who he is, and you were right to bring him to my attention.” She spun and hissed at a maid, “Find and send Ben Hammond to me. Look in the security office for him first.”

  “I did not mean to get him into trouble.”

  “We cannot have people wander in here and make false claims about their business. Imagine if you had been cheated.”

  I thanked her and climbed the stairs to our room. The idea he was an interloper nagged at me, even more so when it struck me that he’d initiated the conversation and sat beside me. His pleasing personality aside, he’d controlled the conversation. If he was that good, he was dangerous. And he had been intent on speaking only with me. I tried to remember if he had any trace of Kondor accent or even that of Kaon.

  I pulled my sword and admired the workmanship again, twisting and turning it in the light to find any sign of repair in the reflection. There was nothing but a perfect blade. I touched the edge lightly and looked at my thumb. A slight cut of skin, so shallow it didn’t bleed told me the blade was sharper than at any time since it had come into my possession.

  The new scabbard was slim, the silver metal tips had a dull sheen, and it fit perfectly. I moved my new clothing to a bench and laid down on my back in the narrow bed. While thinking about why the man in the garden had singled me out, and why I was on the hard bed that was little more than a cot when a soft bed the size of my old room stood in the center, my eyes closed, and I slept the sleep of near mental and physical exhaustion.

  Late in the day, Elizabeth returned.

  I sat up and asked in a groggy voice, “Find out anything?”

  “Plenty. Most of it of no value, but I hear there are new people in high positions, and all seem to come from the north. How about you?”

  “There are six mages in residence at the castle when there is usually one. I went to the Waystone on the east side of the palace and it is either dead or dying. Nobody has used it in a month. I think the mages are stranded here.”

  “Interesting. It confirms much of what I’ve found.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Elizabeth regulated me to the alcove while two women dressed and fixed her hair. I dressed without help. The clothing she’d ordered for me appeared almost military, the trousers cut too narrow for my liking and the neck of the shirt too high. A banner of green went over my left shoulder to the right side of my waist. A new belt had appeared to carry my sword, also polished to reflect light.

  To further enhance the military cut, green stripes matching the banner went down both outside seams of my pants. The new boots with hard heels added to the impression. I stood and looked down at myself, pictured my new beard-style and haircut, and realized my sister would walk right past on the street without recognizing me.

  A woman approached and asked permission to do something with my hair. I saw no reason to refuse. She used a scented oil to tame the wayward strands and gave me a few words of encouragement.

  Elizabeth called for them all to depart. I left my alcove and found a princess had arrived in her place. My old friend stood near the foot of the bed dressed in a satiny material of butter-yellow. It shimmied as she moved. I’d never seen her so lovely.

  The balls at Crestfallen were competitions between all the unmarried women, intended to attract the most eligible men. Even the married competed, yet none compared to Elizabeth. I couldn’t even guess what her dress had cost.

  A golden stone the size of my thumb hung on a gold chain at her throat.

  She said, “Yes?”

  “If that does not attract attention, I don’t know what will.”

  She smiled. “I do. The dress is nice, but I need to ask you a question. The golden halo you made for me, will the color match of my dress?”

  “It is the same. I can adjust it if need be.”

  “What does it take for you to maintain it? I mean, what if I ask you to make it appear and keep it in place all night? Even while you’re busy dancing or talking?”

  Remembering the incident of the personal rainstorm, I’d held it in place while joking and playing. Even napping, in a manner. It may have slipped then, but I would be awake all night. “I can do that.”

  “Good. We will be formally announced. Our arrival will be after most of the other guests, and instead of hiding, I want to make such a scene the king invites me to meet with him. Your crown will help do that.”

  I gave her a slight bow.

  She continued, “Practice making the crown here. Match the colors exactly. Adjust the amount of glow to maximize impact. I want every eye looking at me, every mouth to drop open at my appearance. Can you do that?”

  I sat and looked at her as she stood alone. I reached for essence and d
abbled it around her head in the vague shape of a crown, the center open. It grew taller and overshadowed her face. I reduced it, and adjusted the color to match her gown better, then played with intensity. Too much and she lit the room like a candle.

  I finally got it right. Her crown was the gold hue of a summer sunset, not lighting the land as the sun in daylight, but as dusk on a clear twilight when all eyes are drawn to the last rays of the day. I fixed it in my mind. Duplicating it and maintaining all evening it would be no problem, not even while I talked or listened to music. Despite what she’d said, I didn’t believe I’d be doing much dancing as I watched and protected her.

  I glanced at the small windows and found it was full dark. I’d been at it far longer than expected. “I’m ready.”

  “Will it do as I asked?”

  “And then some.”

  She lifted a linen robe. “Help me into this. There is one for you too.”

  They were simple, colorless, baggy, and lightweight. They would keep dust off us while in the carriage. Bran was waiting at the front door of the Black Swan, wearing all black, from hat to shoes.

  He helped us climb in, and without a word started the trip. I leaned closer to her. “Excited?”

  “Yes. Listen, if you must drop the crown after my entrance to keep any of the six mages at bay, do so. I want the king all to myself for a few heartbeats.”

  “How much of a scene can I make?” I laughed.

  She didn’t. “You can burn down the ballroom if that’s what you need to do. Keep those damn mages and any sorceresses away from the two of us while we talk.”

  “They, the mages, I mean, will know how your crown is made. One of them may make it disappear and I might not be able to stop him.”

  “No matter. It is the initial impression we are going to make. After that, we’ll do what we must. You are authorized to do any trickery without asking me for permission. You will stop any of their antics, and if that is not clear enough, you are authorized to use your sword. Do I make myself clear?”

  “You do.” I sat back and considered her instructions. She was worried and that was to be expected. She was also in command. Instead of asking my opinions and discussing them, she told me the results she wanted. I’d become more of a tool than a friend.

 

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