The Toymaker's Hoard

by Megan Derr

  Cadmus sighed. So much for getting any work done. Maybe he could just drink a lot of coffee and push through. Hopefully no new clients would come trickling in.

  The bedroom door slammed open, making him jump, and Harren burst into the hall like the house was on fire. He looked around frantically—and then slumped in relief when he spied Cadmus.

  Dragging himself to his feet, Cadmus asked, "Are you all right?"

  "I was worried you'd left," Harren said gruffly. He crossed the space between them, gripped Cadmus's shoulders, and leaned up to kiss him.

  Cadmus stiffened in momentary surprise, but then fell easily into the kiss, drawing Harren in and gentling it, savoring that he apparently could still do this.

  When they eventually drew back, both panting, Harren said, "I'm sorry. Please don't give up on me. I promise—"

  Relief and happiness curled through Cadmus. "We'll sort it out. I shouldn't have stormed off."

  "No, it's fine, obviously you'd want to—"

  Cadmus let out a pained cry, dropping to his knees and clutching at his chest, where it felt like someone was stabbing him right in the heart. Tears streamed down his face, vision fuzzing. No, it couldn't be. But all of a sudden the exhaustion and wooziness made a lot more sense.

  "Cadmus! Cadmus, what's wrong?" Harren gripped his shoulders, cupped his face. "Get a healer!" he bellowed, and Cadmus faintly heard the sound of feet. Then more voices. Sula, maybe.

  But second by second, the voices and everything around him faded. The pain consumed him. The violation. Someone was stealing his hoard. They were ripping it away piece by piece, taking pieces of him right along with it.

  He sobbed, everything suddenly too much—too loud, too bright, too much. He wanted his nest. His hoard.

  "Cadmus, come on, we'll get you—"

  "Get away!" Cadmus roared as pain ripped through him again, like being cut open with a sawblade. "It's mine! It has to be given back!" He jerked back as Harren tried to touch him again and pushed away, stumbling toward the stairs and practically falling down them, fear and pain making him clumsy.

  Then he was finally outside, able to smell and feel properly. Sobbing the whole time, he made his way home.

  Chapter Five

  He could feel the ruin of his hoard before he arrived. It had been torn from the shop, from its home. It was a hole in his heart, a chasm in his mind.

  When he arrived, the shop was in shambles. Somebody had broken the lock and torn everything from the shop that mattered. All his display pieces were gone from their shelves and glass cases. The back rooms had been ransacked, every basket, box, and shelf emptied. His gears, wheels, and other parts. His tools. All his jewels, gold, silver. The fine woods, fabrics. Every piece he'd been working on, including the gifts for Harren and Sula. No, no, no.

  He collapsed on the floor of the workroom sobbing, curled in on himself from the pain and agony. Gone. His entire hoard was gone. All 7,876 pieces.

  When he could manage to stand again, he went around the savaged workroom, fixing everything he could, looking frantically for any stray cog, screw, pearl, or bit of silk that might have been missed and left behind.

  As he came up empty, the pain slowly turned into rage. Vidner. That fucking wyrm. Cadmus would tear out his heart and eat it in front of him. How dare that worthless little snake steal his hoard.

  Growling, eyes turning the red-orange of hot coals, Cadmus heaved to his feet once more and headed out of the shop, leaving the broken door gaping behind him.

  People started to greet him and recoiled in fear. "Where's Vidner?" Cadmus bellowed, smoke trickling from his nose and mouth, heat emanating from and driving people even further away.

  Finally the daughter of the bakery woman said in a faint, trembling voice, "I think I saw him go down Butcher Street."

  Cadmus rumbled approval and surged onward. Scales dotted his hands, neck, and face, itching under his clothes as they slowly spread. Ordinarily, he had a care, and even in an especially bad mood could force them back down. But right then, he didn't care. Let them see his scales. Smell the fire. Be afraid of him. When he found Vidner and whoever else had helped steal his hoard, Cadmus was going to burn them alive, reduce them to bone and ash.

  He turned onto Butcher Street, nearly gagging at the smell. But then, beneath the smell of blood, meat, and rotting carcasses, he caught the barest trace of Vidner's old sea water stench. Because like all lindwyrms his favorite foods all came from the ocean. Tuna, dolphin, shark, and more. Stupid, awful ocean.

  It was faint, and it was probably dumb luck he'd caught it at all, but it was enough to follow the trail. Stupid, he should have figured out where Vidner lived the moment he'd started up his harassment campaign. But he'd assumed Vidner was like any other wyrm and would eventually grow bored and move on. That would teach him.

  An ogre with a blood-smeared apron tentatively approached, a deep scowl on his face. "Hey, there, dragon. You're scaring good folk—"

  "Back off!" Cadmus roared, voice turned rough-edged as his draconic nature consumed him more and more. "Unless you want to end up like the men who stole my hoard, stay out of my way."

  The ogre went gray at the mention of his hoard being stolen and ran back into his shop, the door slamming so hard the bell above it fell to the street and rolled into the gutter.

  Word seemed to spread quickly after that, and by the time he reached the end of the street, it was empty, save for a couple of people standing bravely by to give warning should Cadmus finally lose control.

  A stout woman, part elf by the ears and brown skin, tentatively stepped forward. "Who are you seeking, Master Dragon?"

  "Vidner and whoever helped him. It would have taken several people to do it as quickly as they did."

  "Him," she said flatly. "Everyone knows that rotted wyrm carcass. He lives over on Shady Hill Row."

  "Thank you. I owe you fair trade. See me when all of this is done. Do you know my shop?"

  She smiled crookedly. "It'd be hard not to know of the dragon toymaker. Happy hunting."

  "Good fortune." Cadmus prowled on, letting rage overtake him again, cutting through alleyways and side streets to take the shortest trip to the moldering area known as Shady Hill Row. Nothing but thieves and cutthroats there. Even the police only went there when they had no choice, as more than a few of them had wound up in the gutters and river.

  Vidner's stench was stronger here, mixed in with the smell of other wyrms and like creatures. Slithering, slimy, sneaky cretins all of them, interested only in stealing and hurting. Lindwyrms, serpents, and drakes were good and kind by nature, but not here. In Shady Hill, they were all contemptible.

  A trio of snickering fools came up from behind, grabbed him. Cadmus roared loudly enough the street fell silent, rounding on the fools and slicing out with his claws, his gloves shredded and lost somewhere along the way. One screamed and stumbled back, falling into a puddle of sludge. The other two fled, one holding a wound on his side, the other clutching a damaged arm.

  Cadmus loomed over the one still lying in a puddle that smelled strongly of piss and shit. "Where is Vidner?"

  "He lives in the r-red house. Don't hurt me more."

  "Don't mug people," Cadmus growled and bared his teeth, making the man yelp and quaver.

  Then he stormed off down the street, headed for the dull, half-collapsed red house at the end of the block.

  But when he got there, it was empty. Recently vacated, by the freshness of Vidner's stench. Cadmus bit back a bellow, but only just. His hands were entirely scales now, gleaming ember-orange that seemed to flicker like flames in the sunlight coming through cracked, dusty windows.

  Where had the bastard fled?

  The creak of boards snapped him to attention, and then he felt it: a piece of his hoard. Cadmus whipped around and stared at the man holding a pistol at his side. "Give me back my hoard!"

  "I don't have it!"

  "Lies!" Cadmus roared. "You're carrying a piece of it! Give it to me!" />
  Instead, the man lifted the pistol and fired, catching Cadmus dead in the chest. If Cadmus had been less angry, more in control, the shot might have been fatal. But his scales were out now, so all the shot did was send him stumbling back and knocking into a wall. He shook himself, got his bearings, and charged the man with a roar, shifting as he did so, so that the whole of the front room was filled with a dragon the blazing orange of a setting sun, fading to pink, red, and ending on violet at the extremities and tips of his folded wings.

  He slammed his tail into the man, shattering his chest, leaving him dead within seconds. Growling, smoke trickling from his nostrils, he flipped the man over and shifted back to human form so he could pick through his clothes.

  After a couple of minutes, he found a gleaming emerald-cut diamond as large as the first joint of his thumb. He'd bought it fifteen years ago from a jeweler who was selling off everything he had in order to retire. It was one of 103 pieces he'd bought from that man; seventeen had been used in automatons, nine in clocks, and eleven in music boxes. The rest were waiting, like this one, to find the perfect home in one of his creations.

  Clutching the diamond tightly, Cadmus searched the house until he managed to find some new clothes. He tucked the diamond into a pocket, then left the house in search of the rest his hoard.

  With one piece of it back, it was possible to follow the trail of the rest, though if he was reading his diamond correctly, the hoard had been split up and was going in several directions. Cadmus nearly started weeping again, but his anger still outweighed his grief for the moment.

  He focused on the largest, heaviest pulse of his hoard, following the essence of his heart and soul that he'd bound up in his beloved treasures, making them a part of him forever or until he chose to give them away.

  At the end of Shady Hill, where it intersected with Post Run and led on to the docks, a group had gathered to stop him. All Shady Hill residents, with perhaps some stragglers from elsewhere, Cadmus couldn't be entirely certain.

  They had swords, machetes, and other improvised weapons—even a few torches, he supposed for form's sake, given it was broad daylight. "Leave me be!"

  That just resulted in screaming and shouting he didn't bother to listen to. At least this time he managed to get his clothes off before he shifted, though it was a near thing between that and avoiding the angry villagers.

  But as they were met with the full measure of an angry inferno dragon, they wavered. Cadmus sent them packing once and for all with the very flame that gave his race of dragons their name.

  Once they'd rethought defending the dubious honor of their compatriots, Cadmus pressed on, this time not bothering to shift back, his precious diamond tucked into the pouch situated right where his chest started to curve into his underside, safe behind flesh and scales.

  He followed the trail of his hoard to an expensive trade ship, three masts and bright blue sails that must be costly to maintain. Ignoring the screams and cries around him, spewing warning flames at anyone stupid enough to test him, Cadmus heaved onto the ship and roared. Several sailors fled to the gangway, others simply jumped overboard into the filthy water of the harbor.

  Shifting to human, ignoring the frigid sea air on his bare skin, he hauled the quivering man who seemed to be captain in close. "Where is my treasure!"

  "I don't know a damned thing—"

  "I can feel it!" Cadmus roared, his claws coming out, tearing into the expensive wool and velvet of the man's vivid scarlet jacket. "Part of my hoard is here and you will give it to me!"

  "Fuck you!" the man suddenly said. "I bought it fair and square—"

  Cadmus threw him aside, sending him slamming into the main mast, head cracking against the hard wood. "Where is my treasure!"

  Then he heard it—splashing. The crash of heavy objects, like trunks of metal and jewels, thrown into the water. With it went the feel of his beloved hoard. Cadmus wailed, pain and anguish cutting through him. There was much he could do as a dragon, but bodies of water were out. Even baths that went on too long began to hurt him, for water was anathema to inferno dragons.

  As his grief was once more subsumed by rage, Cadmus shifted back to his true form and set to destroying the ship. He shattered the masts, set the sails aflame, burned and ripped and shattered everything he possibly could, until he was able to reclaim one last tiny chest that had not yet been thrown overboard. Scooping it up in his jaws, he fled the rapidly sinking ship.

  By that point, the police had finally caught up to him, fanning out to encircle him, along with grim-faced wizards. Cadmus ignored them all and simply curled around the little chest he'd managed to salvage, shoving it open so he could see and touch each piece inside: forty-three gears made of gremlin steel, two bars of gold, six bars of silver, a set of twelve watchmaker's tools with griffon-bone handles. A velvet bag that held eleven circle-cut rubies and fifteen opals of various cuts. Another bag that held diamonds intended for watches and clocks—twenty-five of those. A bag of gold coins, outdated and no longer in circulation but which he kept for the fond memories of his first lover. Sixteen of those. A bundle of silk scraps he bought from the local seamstress to use for his miniature furniture and clothes—forty-two of those.

  Good to have it back, but it was such a tiny measure of what was lost. The rest at the bottom of the sea, gone forever. Cadmus cried, the sound a rough, ragged noise in his true form. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. He'd bothered no one! He kept to himself and made treasures for others, treasures that contained him. One jealous, greedy bastard and this was what he got.

  He felt the lash of magic and roared, throwing it off and sending the wizards and police rushing back with a wash of flame. A few of the wizards tried to cage him in ice or force him to change, but Cadmus was immune to such piddling magic. They'd need to find something much stronger than city wizards if they wanted to contain him.

  Eventually they withdrew, keeping him surrounded but not attempting to mess with him further. Cadmus continued to ignore them, cuddling his treasure, mourning what was lost, and keeping track of the rest of his hoard, which was moving further and further away from the city. No doubt Vidner was with some of it, cackling at his triumph, certain he would figure out from the stolen display pieces how Cadmus made his automatons run on their own. But a wyrm couldn't feel a dragon's essence; only dragons could do that. He'd stolen everything, broken Cadmus like an egg dropped on pavement for nothing.

  Cadmus cried, wishing everyone would just go away and leave him alone.

  How long he sat there, he didn't know. Voices, other noise, the feel of wizards and even sorcerers, came and went. But nobody dared to touch him, even though a sorcerer probably could have chained him.

  Then a voice that mattered broke through the grief, and Cadmus stirred with a soft, rumbling growling. He lifted his head slightly and stared with sore, tired eyes at Harren. In his true form, colors were washed out, more like various shades of brown than anything else. But Harren, already important to him, was iridescent and rimmed in gold light. Not hoarded, but so very close.

  His face was drawn, eyes dark, as he took another couple of steps, arms and hands spread in a show of peace. "Can I come close? I won't hurt you, Cadmus. I just want to make certain you're all right."

  Cadmus rumbled and stretched his head out, offering it tentatively and whining softly when Harren touched him, those soft fingers gliding gently over his scales, rubbing the ridges over his eyes and behind his ears. For someone who'd never really interacted with dragons, he certainly knew how to touch one.

  "I'm sorry this has happened to you," Harren said quietly. "It's beyond cruel, even I know that, and I know very little of dragons and their hoarding. I should have taken time to learn more after we got closer. Will you come with us? No one will take your reclaimed treasures from you. We simply do not want you hurting anyone else or anyone trying to hurt you. Please."

  Cadmus growled and cried, but he could not resist the soft pleading words of someone he had a
lready come to care about in so short a time. Withdrawing, he shifted back to human, still clutching his hoard close, adding the diamond that tumbled free as his pouch vanished. Tears blurred his vision, and it was miserably cold even for him, but he didn't look at anything but the sad remains of his hoard.

  "Here," Harren said, gently helping him to his feet and wrapping his own coat around Cadmus's shoulders. "I'm having proper clothes brought to the station for you. I wish I could take you home, but my authority only extends so far."

  Cadmus nodded and leaned gladly into him as Harren led him to a waiting carriage. Angry and frightened voices surrounded them, but Cadmus tuned them out. He slumped in relief and exhaustion as the door slammed shut and the carriage jarred into motion.

  He put the battered chest holding his treasure on the seat beside him, then sat back and closed his eyes, enjoying the quiet and privacy of the carriage. But as the silence stretched on, it became oppressive with the dread and fear he could not continue ignoring. Dragging his eyes open, he looked at Harren, but the anger and disgust he'd feared weren't there. Harren only seemed to be worried still. "I'm sorry. I don't even remember everything. I know people are dead. That's bad enough, but I know this puts you in a miserable situation. Please don't feel you must help me or anything. I deserve whatever I get."

  "You are a victim, not a criminal!" Harren said, voice ringing through the small space. "I saw your shop, all that was missing. I've been told of Vidner already, and he is guilty of a capital offense. Once I find him, I'll charge him and whoever else was involved with that and every other last single crime I can think of. By the time I'm done with them, they'll be lucky to ever leave a prison cell. I am so sorry this happened to you. I will do whatever it takes to recover all of your hoard that I can."

  That set Cadmus to crying all over again, though his eyes were already red and raw from tears. "They threw so much of it into the harbor. It's gone, it's gone, it's gone."