Master of Dragons Page 7

  “We had to act fast to repair the damage that had been done. Fortunately, Draconas provided us with the means. He came up with the idea of the human king mating with the human female— a High Priestess of Seth—producing a son that would be strong in the dragon-magic; a son who would then be sent in to deal with Maristara. Draconas later abandoned that plan, but Grald and I saw how it could be useful to us. I persuaded Draconas to go through with it. The humans mated and the female was impregnated. Then Grald also planted his seed in the human female, impregnating her with a child that would be half-human, half-dragon.

  “Even that went awry. Grald’s orders were to abduct the human female and carry her safely to Dragonkeep before impregnating her, but he could not control the lust of the human body in which he is housed. Still, all would have been well if Draconas had obeyed my orders. He was supposed to bring the two babies to me. He took it upon himself to defy me, however. He had developed a bond with these humans, and he felt guilty about being the cause of the death of the mother. And he now knew that there was someone in the Parliament in collusion with the dragons. He felt he could trust no one among us.”

  “He was right,” Malfiesto growled.

  Anora ignored him. “Grald feared that Braun had discovered the location of Dragonkeep. Whether that was true or not, we’ll never know. We couldn’t chance it. He argued that Braun had to die and, reluctantly, I agreed. I was afraid that Braun’s death would only increase Draconas’s suspicions, which it did. He tried to keep the children hidden from us—an impossible task, for they had the dragon-magic in their blood, and that meant that, sooner or later, they must open their minds to us.

  “Grald and I found the half-dragon child, but Draconas intervened before we could capture him and spirit him away. Draconas warned the child against using the magic and, wonder of wonder, the child obeyed him, at least until he reached manhood and found himself in trouble. Then he turned to his father. Grald discovered his half-dragon son and rescued him from humans, who thought he was devil-spawn or some such superstitious nonsense.

  “The other child, the king’s son, went insane, as do so many human males with the dragon-magic, and we hoped he would die and we would not have to worry about him. But Draconas meddled in this and saved the boy. Not only that, Draconas taught him how to use the magic. The boy grew to manhood and is one of the strongest in dragon-magic we have produced. And one of the most dangerous,” Anora added grimly, “for the prince has the ability to enter the minds of dragons, something no human has ever been capable of doing before.

  “Worse yet, the king of this human nation, reacting out of ignorance and fear, began to develop the first human weapon built specifically to slay dragons. The weapon is not a threat to us, of course—one blast of fire will melt it where it stands. For the first time in our history, however, humans are actually daring to take a stand against us. Again, due to Draconas’s conniving, the prince, Marcus, found the location of Dragonkeep. The king will undoubtedly lead his human armies against this city. Our plans are endangered. The lives of all dragonkind are threatened. We must act—”

  “You keep speaking of plans, Anora,” Malfiesto interrupted, using the dragon’s name, not her august title of Prime Minister. “What plans are these? I think we have a right to know. And were you party to the two dragons’ criminal behavior all along?”

  “To answer your last question first, no, I was not party to what Grald and Maristara were planning. I was as furious as you when I heard that they had seized a human kingdom. That was before I knew the danger humans posed to us, however. When I became aware of that threat, it seemed to me that Maristara and Grald had the right idea. Use the dragon-magic in their blood to control the humans. Rule over them. Prevent them from creating these terrible weapons. Not only will this benefit us,” Anora argued. “Such a prohibition will also benefit the humans. Let us face facts. Humans first invented these horrible weapons to kill large numbers of their own kind. We will stop them from harming each other, as well as ourselves. In the future, when humans come to view our intervention rationally, they will thank us.”

  “Thank us for enslaving them,” Draconas muttered in Lysira’s mind.

  Some of the dragons were nodding sagely, evidently favoring Anora’s position. Others glowered, not pleased with what they were hearing, among them Malfiesto, which surprised Lysira, for his dislike of humans was well known.

  Lysira did not know what to feel. She was terrified of the destructive force of the humans’ weapons, yet, she was troubled by the idea of dragons making humans a slave-race, as Draconas was saying. She grieved over the loss of her brother and was furious at how casually Anora spoke of slaying him. Yet, Braun had always been a troublemaker, a meddler. If only he’d let well enough alone! Now she was the last of their noble house and, if what Anora said was true, her children might be among the last dragons ever born. . . .

  She momentarily lost track of what Anora was saying and caught hold of the thread in the middle.

  “For two hundred years, I have been working with Grald and Maristara, developing our plans in secret. We hoped—at least I hoped—that we would never be forced to use such drastic measures. I hoped that the human inventions would fail and that they would grow weary of pursuing them. I underestimated the human desire for conquest and power. As for the nature of our plans, I cannot reveal them to you.”

  The dragons muttered at this. Tails snapped in irritation, wings rustled, claws scraped.

  “By law, Prime Minister,” said Malfiesto, “you are required to tell us.”

  “I have broken so many laws, old friend, that one more will not matter,” Anora replied. “And I am no longer your Prime Minster. I resign from that post. Who will side with me?”

  Dragons spit and snarled, snapped and roared. Heads swooped down in fighting stance, wings lifted, tails thrashed. Malfiesto bellowed, actually using his voice, something unheard of, to try to make the other dragons see reason. Three of the young males, incensed, flew off. Two of the females left with them. Others remained behind to argue and debate.

  “There’s nothing more you can do here,” said Draconas, and Lysira, thankfully, left.

  Once outside, she lifted her wings and soared into a night spattered with stars. She breathed deeply of the fresh air and felt better.

  “Where are you, Draconas?” she asked, free, at last, to speak openly with him.

  “I am here,” he said. “In your mind. Whenever you want me, this is where you will find me.”

  “I mean, physically, where are you?” Lysira persisted.

  “It is better that you do not know,” Draconas replied. “Not that I do not trust you, Lysira, but two members of your family have already died by violence. I do not want to risk a third death, especially of someone I care about.”

  Lysira’s colors shimmered, dazzling her with their brilliance.

  “I can use your help, however,” Draconas continued. “I need eyes to see and ears to hear. But only if you are willing.”

  “You mean, only if I agree with your side of things,” said Lysira slowly. “I’m not sure I do agree, Draconas. What Anora said frightens me.”

  “Anora has been blinded by fear, Lysira. She is able to see only one path—a path that leads to doom. Many paths exist, and some are bright with sunlight.”

  Lysira did not immediately reply. She watched the ground skim beneath her. Humans were small as ants in her sight, and they could not see her at all. She realized, suddenly, that she’d never seen a human except from this vast distance.

  “I will be your eyes, Draconas,” Lysira agreed. “It is time that I looked at the world. But I want you to know beforehand that I will never do anything to betray our people. Even if that means going against someone I care about. What do you need me to do?”

  “I need to know what has happened to the king’s son, Marcus. I do not dare try to contact him, for Anora and the others are searching for him and, if they find him, they will kill him. This is what he looks
like.”

  An image of a human came to Lysira’s mind—youthful, comely, with fair hair and hazel eyes. He did not, she was forced to admit, look like a monster.

  “And what do I do when I find this human?” Lysira asked.

  “Warn him,” said Draconas. “Warn him that he and his people are in danger.”

  “And he will use his cannons to try to slay us,” said Lysira sadly She shook her head. “I do not think—”

  “Lysira,” said Draconas gently, persuasively, “Grald does not mean to make these humans slaves. He means to slaughter them.” Lysira kept her colors to herself.

  “Please, Lysira. You said yourself. Our people have gone mad with fear. We have a chance to stop the madness.” Dragons are always loath to take action. “I will think about it, Draconas,” Lysira said.

  8

  NIGHT STRETCHED DARK ACROSS THE RIVER. THE WATER SLIPPED out from underneath him. The river flowed ever onward, uncaring about the vagaries of time. Marcus steered the boat nearer the sunken cavern, and his fears grew, compounded by the fact that he had no idea how far he was from the cavern.

  The first and last time Marcus had traveled the river had been during the night. He had not been paying attention to his surroundings during that first journey. His attention had been divided between keeping an eye on the boats of the monks ahead and watching for snags and other dangers in the river. He had very little reckoning of the passage of time—how long it had taken him and Bellona to travel from the sunken cavern to the site of Dragonkeep. Had it been minutes or hours? He looked back on that night and he couldn’t be certain.

  His rowing slowed. He thought he detected a change in the air, a different smell; one that was not of green and growing things, but the smell that he remembered from the cave, a smell of wet rock and slime. He felt a change in the temperature, as well—a chill, musty breath flowing from a gaping mouth.

  Evelina felt it, too, for she began to rummage about for one of the blankets she’d scrounged. Wrapping it around her shoulders, she huddled into it.

  “What a horrible stench,” she complained. “It smells of death.”

  Marcus shifted direction, rowed toward the shoreline.

  “Catch hold of that branch,” he told Evelina.

  “Are we stopping?” she asked eagerly, unwinding herself from the blanket long enough to do as he said. She grabbed hold of the branch, and the boat swiveled around to nose gently in among a shadowy tangle of reeds and rushes and willow trees.

  “Just for a little while,” he answered. “I want to wait until long after midnight to enter the cave.”

  Evelina gave a little screech. “As if it won’t be terrifying enough! You’re going to make it easy for the monks to catch us.”

  “Hush, keep quiet,” Marcus warned. “I don’t want anyone to see us or hear us. I’m not going to make finding us easy for anyone.”

  He planned to use his magic to conceal the boat from view, cast an illusion over it, so that anyone looking at the boat would see only dark, flowing water. Such illusions never work, Draconas had once warned him. Someone always sneezes. But Marcus could think of no other way to avoid the monks, if they were in the cave.

  He shipped the oars and tied the boat up securely. The boat bobbed gently in the water. He picked up one of the blankets, toyed with it a moment as he thought over what he had to do.

  “I hate to ask this of you—” he began.

  “Ask me,” said Evelina. “Please. I will do anything.”

  He regarded her steadily. “I am going to use my magic to hide us and the boat.”

  He paused, waiting for her reaction. She continued to gaze at him.

  “Yes,” she said. “Go on.”

  “You’re not afraid ... of the magic?” he asked hesitantly.

  “No, of course not,” she told him. “Why should I be afraid of you?”

  His heart warmed to her. No flinching, no shrinking away, no talk of “devil’s work.” Just calm acceptance.

  “I am very tired, and I must be strong and well rested to use the magic.”

  “You need to sleep. Of course,” said Evelina briskly. “Go ahead. You sleep and I’ll keep watch.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  She shook her head. “I only wish I could do more.”

  Marcus drew near Evelina and kissed her on the cheek.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  Evelina blushed and lowered her eyes. Marcus lay down as best he could in the bottom of the boat. Evelina fussed over him, making a pillow of another blanket for his head and helping him to find the most comfortable of uncomfortable positions. Closing his eyes, Marcus gave himself to the rocking motion of the boat.

  The confusion one feels as the mind sinks slowly into sleep stole over him, so that he was rowing again, and then he had no oars, but he was still rowing, and the boat slid into darkness . . .

  Evelina put her hand to her cheek. She could still feel Marcus’s kiss, as though it had burned her like the hot irons they used to brand the mark of shame on prostitutes. Evelina was pleased with herself. She had recovered in a few moments all the ground she’d lost with Marcus during the trip.

  She sat with her chin in her hands, thinking back to their conversation. He’d been pleased when she’d told him she wasn’t afraid of the magic. Well, she thought, why should she be afraid of it? She didn’t believe it. Any of it.

  “Seeing is believing” the old saw went, except that it wasn’t.

  Evelina had known the truth of that from the time she was a very small girl and she’d watch her father swindle the gullible with a bean under a walnut shell. See the bean? I’ll put the shell over it. Three shells. The bean’s under one of them. See it? Yes, there it is. Now, I’ll just switch the shells around. Are you following the one with the bean under it? Yes, sir, I can see that you are. You are a man of perception, sir. Now, I’ll bet you money, sir, that you can’t tell me which shell the bean is under. Of course, I’ll lose, you being so very perceptive, sir, but it’s an honor playing with someone so keen-sighted. That shell, sir? Are you sure, sir? Well, well, well . . . I guess you weren’t watching so closely after all, sir. You owe me .. .

  Of course, the secret was that the bean wasn’t under any of the shells. Ramone had palmed the bean before the game started and slipped it back before it ended, sliding it under one of the walnut shells as he lifted it to shift it about. A trick to fool the gullible. Nothing wrong with it. All men and women were tricksters and liars. One had to be to survive—even Marcus, a prince, the man Evelina loved as she’d never loved anyone else in her short life (with the exception of Evelina). She had no illusions about him.

  Evelina had seen all manner of fantastic things in Dragonkeep: a monk with hands made of blazing fire, snow falling on a warm day in the morning sunshine, Marcus bringing down a building by pointing at it. She’d seen herself walk through a solid stone wall. Wonderful tricks, all of them. She could make a fortune with such fakery by taking it on the road like that poor sod, Glimmershanks. She’d didn’t know how the tricks were done, but that didn’t matter. Before Ramone had taught her the secret of the shell game, she’d thought the bean had really vanished.

  Evelina didn’t know or care how Marcus’s tricks worked. She was determined to win this game of love, and if this meant that she had to pretend to believe the bean disappeared, it was a small price to pay for the jewels and the castle and her son being an abbot.

  “He can lie to me about magic all he wants,” murmured Evelina, gazing at Marcus fondly as he lay sleeping at her feet. “Just as long as he lies with me.”

  Her little joke amused her for all of several seconds and then she yawned and slapped irritably at a mosquito and looked around at the river, which held nothing new for her, and at the trees, and there was nothing interesting about them either. She heaved an audible sigh and glanced at Marcus, half hoping he’d hear her and wake up.

  He didn’t stir, and she realized he was ‘deep in slumber.

&nbs
p; “After all, he needs his rest,” she reflected. “If he’s going to get us safely through that horrible .cave. Why do we have to go that way anyhow? There are lots of other routes we can take to his home. His home. His castle. I wonder how many rooms it has. Dozens, probably. And food that goes on forever. Peacock tongues and suckling pig and wine from golden goblets and servants to wait on me and sweetmeats and sugared almonds and why, why, why did I have to think about food?”

  Her stomach grumbled. Evelina tried to recall when she’d last eaten. She remembered Ven bringing food to her and she remembered flinging it to the floor in a fit of temper. Henceforth, she resolved, she would make certain she ate first before she flew into a rage.

  And then all she could think about was being hungry. Evelina had been hungry before in her life; very hungry, sometimes, when one of her father’s schemes had failed to produce any income. She looked again at Marcus. Bending over him, greatly daring, because the boat rocked alarmingly whenever she moved, she kissed him on the mouth. She let her tongue slide over his lips and was gratified to feel his lips move, ever so slightly, in response.

  Evelina sighed and sat back, her blood tingling. Wrapping herself in her blanket, she gave herself up to tantalizing daydreams of their lovemaking. When even that grew boring, she yawned and yawned again and again after that. Her eyelids drooped. She slid into sleep and then sat up with a start.

  “I said I’d keep watch,” she reminded herself. “But I’m so tired. No one is coming for us. We’re safe enough-. It’s not fair that he gets to sleep and I don’t. I’ll just shut my eyes a moment.”

  Having absolved herself from blame, Evelina closed her eyes and drifted into sweet slumber.

  Thus it was that the dragon found them.

  Fortunately for them, the dragon was Lysira.