Servant of the Crown

by Duncan M. Hamilton

  “I hope you burn in each of the three hells,” Renaud said.

  “Good to see you too. Please, sit.”

  The guards shoved Renaud into a chair.

  “You may leave us, thank you,” Amaury said. Knowing better than to question him, they did as they were told.

  “Why did you bring me here, Amaury?”

  “I want you to sign a document stating that you wholeheartedly support my appointment as Protector of the Realm.”

  “I’d rather walk back to the dungeon and heat up the torturer’s irons myself,” Renaud said. “Even if I sign it, I’ll be back in a cage before nightfall.”

  “Brave talk,” Amaury said. He wanted Renaud to be as opposed to him as he possibly could. He didn’t want the man to entertain even the slightest hope that he might be able to strike a bargain. “And you are right. You will die in that cage, Renaud, and you will most certainly be back there long before nightfall, no matter what happens next, but let me put it another way.

  “You wholeheartedly support my appointment as Protector of the Realm. You want to sign a document saying as much.” Renaud’s face twitched, once, then again. Amaury concentrated on his desire to the exclusion of all else. He changed the thought slightly, refined it, focussed it.

  “I … I was delighted to hear of your appointment as Protector of the Realm,” Renaud said. “I’d be honoured to make my sentiments public.”

  “Ha!” Amaury said, sitting back in his chair and throwing his hands up in delight. He had it now. “Perfect, and I appreciate the gesture, Renaud, but it really isn’t necessary.” He rang the bell on his desk. The guards entered. “Take Renaud back to the cells. I won’t be needing him again.”

  They took the prisoner by the arms and led him out again; there was a bewildered expression on his face. Amaury watched them go, considering what he had just done. It appeared he achieved the desired effect—but not by framing it as a conscious want. Instead, he’d had to develop the thought into a more visceral desire. That seemed to run contrary to what dal Drezony had believed. Still, what had she known? She was a little more skilled at creating magical lights than anyone else, but that was about it. There was so much more to magic than she had been able to comprehend, and it was now all at his fingertips.

  He took a deep breath and drummed his fingers on his desk. He didn’t want to get ahead of himself. He had convinced one man who hated him. That was a long way from convincing thousands of people at one go. Or was it? His words and thoughts had addressed Renaud. From the balcony, his words and thoughts would address a mass of people. One target in both cases, after a fashion. The power he needed was all there. He could feel it. But to allow so much to course through him? The thought sent a shiver across his skin.

  CHAPTER

  40

  It didn’t take Solène long to find out where the dragon was being kept. A few topics dominated Mirabay’s conversations, and the great golden dragon, being readied for public display, was one of them. Despite the anger and tension that filled the city, people talked about it excitedly—who wouldn’t want to see a living, breathing creature that up until a few months previously had been a thing of legend?

  From a vantage point across the street, Solène surveyed the building—an old, open-air duelling amphitheatre that despite extensive and obvious recent work still showed signs of having been neglected for many years. Looking at the lattice, ironwork dome, she wondered how they hoped to keep the creature contained by such means. Reaching to the Fount was now as natural an act as drawing a breath; the Telastrian steel welded into the bands appeared benignly, strips of darkness outlined by the glowing blue energy of the Fount. Clever, she thought. She suspected some of her former brothers and sisters from the Order must have been responsible for that. She couldn’t imagine the labourers had come up with it by themselves.

  They presented a problem—the labourers. Solène could see a number of them moving about and was confident there were even more she couldn’t. That she would have to wait until darkness was a given. Even with magical help, she wouldn’t be able to do what was needed with watchers nearby. Once the alarm was raised, all hell would break loose, and that might mean the dragon not getting away. Solène had no idea how long it would take the goldscale to adapt to enlightenment—would it happen instantly, as it had with her, or would it take longer because the dragon was coming from a baser state? She needed to make sure time was available if necessary.

  Solène had decided to try to find somewhere to wait until dark when people around her began to chatter excitedly, as if sharing important news. She couldn’t quite make out what was being said, so she went in search of one of the city’s many criers. When she found one, he was repeating the same message over and over—the Lord Protector of Mirabay would be making an announcement to the people that afternoon.

  The sun was already high overhead and people were starting to head toward the palace. Returning to the old amphitheatre, Solène saw that the labourers had stopped work and were talking to each other. A moment later, they set down their tools and disappeared from sight. She smiled when she saw them filing out of the entrance. It looked like she was getting the opportunity she needed.

  She waited until the men had disappeared, and then, ever cautious, Solène draped herself in a magical shroud that made her almost impossible to see. She crossed the street and entered where the workmen had departed. A dark tunnel ended in steps that led up to light beyond. Two armed men stood at the opening, silhouetted by the light, but as soon as she spotted them, they crumpled to the ground in a slumber from which they would not wake for hours. Solène’s eyes widened—she had put them to sleep almost without thinking—her desire had become reality as soon as it had entered her head. As satisfying as that was, it was proof that she had to be more careful with her thoughts than ever before.

  She hurried into the amphitheatre proper, with its circular stone tiers of seating rising up and out like ripples on a pond. Nearly completed timber scaffolds supported a viewing platform around the top of the amphitheatre. The arena’s floor was covered with the domed cage that Solène had seen from outside. Contained within was the goldscale. Solène’s heart sank when she saw her. The vibrant, healthy-looking creature she had seen at the temple was now a shadow of its former self. It was curled up and mournful. Its flesh was stretched tight over its bones, and Solène could make out the shape of its ribs beneath its gleaming scales. It was a tragic thing to see, and she was terrified that she had come too late.

  Solène checked the amphitheatre over again to make sure she was alone—it looked as though the two sleeping guards were the only ones who had remained behind. She wondered what the Prince Bishop planned to say, but her curiosity could wait. With luck, he would be gone soon and whatever he said would be rendered irrelevant.

  Her first obstacle was getting to the goldscale. She walked around the cage’s perimeter until she found a small, human-sized gate. Though the gate was locked, Solène didn’t even have to touch a finger to it to open it. The recently greased hinges turned without a sound, and Solène was inside. She wasn’t sure how the goldscale would react to her being so close—it was still a base creature, and Solène very much doubted it had received good treatment from other humans.

  She approached slowly, not sure if it was asleep or awake. An untouched, fresh-looking carcass sat on the sandy ground beside it. If the dragon woke hungry, hopefully it would choose that, rather than Solène. The dragon’s eyes opened lazily, first a thick gold outer eyelid, followed by a wet, gossamer-like inner lid that hinted at the brilliance of what was beneath. When it too opened, Solène’s breath was taken by the magnificence of the two gleaming azure orbs.

  “I’m a friend,” Solène said, not knowing if the creature understood her, or even heard her. “I’m here to help you.”

  It continued to stare at her with its intoxicating blue eyes, but didn’t move.

  “Your friend sent me to help you,” Solène said. “Pharadon, the red dragon.
He said you are ready to be enlightened, so I brought you this to drink from.” She took the Cup and a small leather flask from a pocket in her cloak, and held them out to show the goldscale. It did not react.

  Solène filled the Cup with water from the flask and proffered it to the goldscale. No response.

  “You have to drink from it,” she said.

  It gave no sign that it heard her.

  Even with its mouth closed, Solène could see some of the dragon’s fangs, and had no desire to get too close. It seemed she had no alternative, however. She gritted her teeth and got down on her hunkers, then shuffled forward in as unthreatening a way as she could. The last thing she wanted was to get eaten by the dragon she was trying to help.

  “You must drink this,” Solène said. “It will help you.” She extended the Cup, doing her best to keep her hand from shaking and spilling every drop before it reached its intended destination. Where the dragon’s mouth opened slightly—where those fierce-looking teeth could be seen—she did her best to pour the water in. Some splashed against her face and dripped to the ground, but Solène reckoned enough got to where it needed to go.

  The Cup empty, Solène dropped onto her backside, drew her knees up to her chin, and looked at the dragon. It appeared no different. What do I do now?

  After what seemed an age, the dragon’s inner eyelids slid down, then up again. Solène thought she might be imagining it, but something about them seemed different—the vibrant blue seemed sharper, more defined.

  “So weak,” the dragon said, its voice rasping and sibilant.

  “It worked,” Solène said, allowing herself a laugh. “I’m Solène. What can I do to help you?”

  “Gold.”

  Solène frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “Gold,” the dragon said again, its tone strained and airy.

  Wracking her brain, Solène remembered Pharadon asking for gold at the temple before placing a coin under the dragon’s head. She hadn’t asked why, but it was obviously important. She pulled her purse from her belt and whisked through it with her index finger, praying that she would spot the glimmer of gold. She let out a breath of relief when she did, and fished the coin out.

  As gently as she could, she pushed the coin in under the dragon’s jaw, then sat back to wonder what it did.

  “Has that helped?” she said. She allowed herself to see the Fount, and instantly understood. Just as Telastrian steel seemed to soak up, store, and discharge the Fount’s energy, gold similarly seemed to serve as a conduit for the magical energy. Ambient energy—a beautiful swirling blue glow—drifted toward the coin, then was sucked into it and channelled into the goldscale. For a moment she watched the process in fascination, until she realised the dragon had spoken again.

  “I’m sorry?” Solène said.

  “Ashanya,” the dragon said. “I am Ashanya.”

  Solène let out a laugh of joy. “I’m Solène,” she said, once again.

  “Thank you for helping me.” The dragon’s voice was still weak and thin, but she seemed a little less lethargic now. “Where is the redscale?”

  Solène smiled sadly. “I’m sorry, Ashanya. He’s gone. He asked me to come and help you. We need to get out of this place as soon as you’re ready. As soon as we can.”

  Ashanya lifted her head, then tried to stand but lurched to one side. Solène could see the strain on the dragon’s face as she forced her weakened limbs to obey her, but eventually the goldscale stood on all fours, wavering gently as she struggled to maintain her balance.

  “You should eat before we go,” Solène said. “We have a long journey ahead. You’ll need your strength.”

  Ashanya nodded, and lowered her head to sniff at the carcass. “Step away,” she said.

  Solène did as she was asked, and Ashanya let out a narrow jet of intense flame. The air filled with the smell of cooking meat, reminding Solène that it had been some time since she’d had a decent meal herself. While Ashanya ate, Solène turned her attention to the cage. With the reinforcement of Telastrian steel, there wasn’t much she could do to it magically. Any Fount energy she directed at it by way of magical craft would be absorbed and dispersed. Short of taking conventional cutting tools to it, she couldn’t think of a way through, and there certainly was not the time for that.

  She looked around for any sign of weakness, but the work all looked solid, each crossing of the cage’s bands being both riveted and welded. She turned back to Ashanya, who was finishing her meal.

  “Can you break through this?”

  Ashanya looked up at the cage, still chewing, then back at Solène, and shook her head. Solène scratched her chin for a moment, then smiled. Ashanya was enlightened now. Just like Pharadon, she could take on human form. An alarming thought popped into her head. If enlightened dragons could take on human form, did that mean she could…? Solène shook the idea from her head—there wasn’t time to think on it now.

  “You have to change form into a human, Ashanya,” Solène said. “Then we can walk out of here.”

  Ashanya frowned, her face remarkably expressive. “I don’t know how.”

  “You’re enlightened. A few moments ago, you didn’t know how to speak, but now you can, because you’ve been listening to humans, and learning, even if you didn’t know it. You’ve seen many of us, you know what we look like.” She grimaced, remembering how Ashanya was forced to defend herself in the temple. “You know what we are, inside and out. You can shape the magic to make it happen now that you’re enlightened. You just have to desire it.”

  Ashanya nodded, and her eyes narrowed in concentration. For a moment, nothing happened. Then her body started to change. It wasn’t an enjoyable thing to watch—indeed, in that moment, Solène was glad that her stomach was empty—but the process didn’t take long. In only a matter of seconds, a raven-haired woman with dark eyes and full lips stood before Solène. There was something familiar about her, but Solène couldn’t put her finger on why. She was thankful that Ashanya had also managed to create clothes.

  “This way,” she said. “Quickly.” She led Ashanya through the gate, past the unconscious guards, and into the tunnel that led back out to the street. Just as they reached the exit, two armoured men stepped across the threshold. One of them fixed his stare on Solène.

  “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

  Solène swore silently—it must have been time for the next shift of guards to take over. The men were still standing out on the street—visible to passers-by. If she knocked them out, people would see and the alarm would be raised. If she and the dragon had been only seconds quicker, they’d have been free and clear.

  Then Ashanya stepped forward and the guards did a double take.

  “I’m sorry, my Lady,” one of them said. “I didn’t see you there.”

  “Get back to work!” she barked.

  Ashanya’s voice sounded completely different, but Solène did her best not to show her surprise.

  “Of course, my Lady. Sorry, my Lady.” They both shuffled past and continued down the corridor.

  “We need to get out of here,” Solène said. “Fast. They’re about to find the other guards.”

  Ashanya nodded and both women started to run.

  CHAPTER

  41

  At least I’m a big draw, Amaury thought, as he stepped out onto the balcony. There were people as far as he could see, filling the square beneath the balcony and funnelling into the streets beyond. He couldn’t begin to speculate how many were present. Better make this good, he thought. From the balcony, he had a magnificent view over the top of the city, one he rarely bothered to appreciate. Now that it was his, he viewed it with considerably more affection and a sense of almost paternal pride.

  Mirabay was a beautiful city, with the river flowing lazily through its centre; before him, the cathedral stood imperiously on the Isle, and beyond it, on the left bank, the spires of the university rose above the rooftops. The parapets and imposing towers of the city
walls stood, foreboding, defiant, a statement that the city would stand for ages and never be taken by force. Mirabay was the finest city in the world, and it was Amaury’s job to make sure everyone knew that.

  Ysabeau had arrived at the palace a short time earlier to report that the menagerie was ready to be opened to the public. He intended to play up this good news in his announcement. He had captured the dragon. He had kept the people safe and he had brought this great trophy back to Mirabay so that all could share in his magnificent achievement. He had wondered if he should charge them for the privilege. The kingdom’s coffers were always strained, all the more so now with the mercenaries he was having to hire to bolster his manpower. The dragon could prove to be a major source of revenue—there was not a person in the city who would not want to see it, and he was certain it would draw visitors from miles around.

  Thinking further, Amaury realised charging to see the dragon was not the right move if he wanted it to help him calm the populace. It would fan the flames he wished to extinguish.

  He took a deep breath, forced a broad smile, and walked forward to the edge of the balcony. The greeting he received was unwelcome, but not entirely unexpected. The gathered people started booing. There were insults mixed in—occasionally a voice rose loud enough for Amaury to make out individual words. Some he found particularly cutting—“limper” was one he’d always particularly disliked, and added to his irritation that he still hadn’t had the chance to apply any of the Cup’s power to his old injury. The pain was as pronounced as it had been in some time, and attending to it was long overdue. Perhaps today, when he was finished here—there was little more he could do to prepare.

  “People of Mirabay,” he said, in his most stentorian tone. The crowd didn’t quieten. If anything, the jeering and booing grew louder. “People of Mirabay!” Still no reaction.

  Amaury took a moment to stifle his rapidly growing anger, then shouted “Silence!” His voice boomed out, startling even him. Had he used magic? He wasn’t sure. One way or the other, it had worked. The crowd had fallen silent. It was eerie to see so many people and for things to be so quiet.