“That snake, Briciu, did it himself,” Toby said. “We can’t let them get away with it, Verity. Not with killing your father, who was a really good man, and making it look like it was Taz’s fault. There aren’t any other politicians or businessmen who care a toss about the dragons and he did. And then that Briciu tries to kill you, too. They think they can just dispose of people whenever they like without consequences.”
Uncle Nic cleared his throat and said, “I fear the chain won’t be enough to clear Toby and Taz in the balloon crash, my dear. Although we will have Captain Lewis’s testimony as to where the chain was found, out of context it looks like any other piece of damaged chain and there’s really nothing that ties it to the balloon. Also, the Magistrate is on the board of Widderwinds Amalgamated and is another of Briciu Sieke’s cousins. They come from a large and prominent Frostingdungian family, the same one your stepmother is related to.”
“But we can’t just let them get away with it!” Verity said. “Widderwinds is the same company that locked up the wizards and drained their power, according to Sid the Sorcerer.”
“We would not be able to stop them in an Argonian court of law,” Uncle Nic said. “I believe I am possibly the only attorney in Queenston who is not what might be called a wholly owned subsidiary of Widderwinds.” He thought for a moment. “We need a change of venue and the magistrate is unlikely to grant one.”
“We need more than that!” Verity said hotly.
“We do,” Toby said. “Malachy Sieke plans to make meat animals out of dragons as if they were livestock, and market the kibble as food for people. I saw the proof of it at Hide-In Valley Farms.”
Romany said, “If we cannot get justice in Queenston, then we’ll get it here.”
“How?” Toby asked.
“Leave that to me,” Romany said.
“What are you going to do?” Verity asked.
“You really do not want to know, my dear, but for the time being, it does not involve me leaving.”
Ephemera’s hands flew to her bosom, which had begun to vibrate, her shells sounding like a chorus of chattering teeth. “Oh, dear. Verity, I am going to need your help. The shells from the cave appear to be restless. I believe they want translating.”
The Shell Game
The Archives held more than stories and songs. The rows and rows of long shelves set into ice and holding seashells big and small also held public records, dating up to the Great War and shortly after, when modern administrations began housing them in Queenston. “We have some of the early printed ones,” Ephemera told her, “But they don’t do well here—it’s too humid for them. But I think we may find some of what we need there, nevertheless.”
Verity found the public records restful for the most part. They largely consisted of figures and concerned factual material so they gave her headaches less often than the bardic chronicles or the great sagas or even stories with a touch of poetic license. The chamber where they were kept branched away from the main, miles long crevasse. A soft blue light emanated from the icy surfaces. Ephemera had told her the light was a legacy Princess Pegeen the Illuminator, who had been the archivist way back before the Rowan family took the throne. Since the Archives were to be heard rather than seen, brighter light was not deemed necessary,
Ephemera disappeared. When Verity looked up from her work and didn’t see her, she grew alarmed, although her aunt’s bouts of forgetfulness had been brief and infrequent of late. She showed up again just as Verity was about to go looking for her.
Her brown homespun bodice was bare of adornment and no longer rattled, but her hand dipped into her pocket three times, bringing out shells. “These are the shells that self-recorded when the wraiths escaped from the cave. We need to know who they were when living, where they made their homes, and what their powers were, if you please. Then in the more recent records, see if you can learn what happened to their holdings when they didn’t return from the cave. When you’ve learned as much as you can, record your findings in one of the larger shells and label it.
Verity nodded. She had to search through Ephemera’s shells for the one recorded by Sid’s wraith and sort through the beads in her pocket to find the one that had allowed her to understand the material held in the shells.
In his narrative, Sid had identified several of his fellow captives. None of the others had recorded the events leading to their death, so she began matching names with powers and powers with places.
The first bead with the power to communicate with dragons, the one her mother had given her, was actually in an old language called Pan-Elven. At one time animals of all sorts, as well as the magical races of fairies, brownies, gnomes, trolls, dwarves, giants, and so forth had used it to communicate with each other. Anneinez Dragonspeaker had been something of a specialist in the dialect of the great beasts. She apparently got on with the smaller ones, too. When her shell began to speak, several of the ghost cats emerged from the walls to perch on Verity’s chair, or pace back and forth on the table. One sat on the top of her head. It was weightless and she was only aware of it because its tail kept swishing back and forth across the back of her neck. The bead Verity’s mother had given her must have been made of the residue from the sorceress’s magic, as it was the one that translated her shell, too. That shell held so many marvelous stories, originally spoken by the tongues of dragons, that hours passed before Verity reluctantly set it aside to interpret others.
She got more of the names of the conclave of captive magicians from the shell inhabited by one of her father’s own ancestresses, Sybil the Seeress, who was able to see the present, wherever it was happening. She saw the gathering of her colleagues from all over the country, but since she lived in a gingerbread cottage in what was then a fairly isolated space in the woods, she was unable to warn the others. When the escort came for her, she had stuffed her pockets with pieces of edible shutters and shingles that she nibbled on instead of eating what she called the compliancy cakes. She had her crystal ball with her for the trip, but could not warn the others of the trap.
Hiding the Pea
When Verity was safely installed in the Archives, Ephemera invited the others into the kitchen for hot cider and cookies.
Romany bit into a cookie as if it were the neck of an enemy. “These people will stop at nothing until they’ve destroyed everything about Argonia that once made it great. They have stripped it of its great magic and magicians, dug up the mountains for their mines, cut down forests to build the railroad, degraded the dragons from guardians to drudges, and even attempted to murder my daughter. Since the time they first set foot here to help us, our allies and their descendants have rolled over and plowed under everything we once valued and honored until all has become an instrument to add to their profit and power. I have been searching all eras since the time of my birth to find a way to defeat them, but nothing works. They are unstoppable.”
Ephemera smiled unpleasantly, “I’ve thought of one thing that might stop them.”
“What?” Romany asked. “Do you have an army concealed on the premises?”
“No, but I have all of you. Or rather, Argonia does. And what’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander.”
“What do you mean?” Romany asked.
“The current rulers drained our people of magic, a source of our power. Their power comes from their ill-gotten fortunes. What if we drain those?”
Toby Draws a Bead
Verity’s research had gone as far as Nigel the Necromancer and she was starting on Tagliaferro the Transformer when Toby came into the records room, bearing a mug of cocoa, which he set in front of her before saying, “Excuse me, Miss Verity, but Taz and I have a task, and your young dragons would be a lot of help if only they could understand me. Your aunt says you’ve something you use to talk to them. Could I have the loan of it?”
“You lot have been plotting, haven’t you?” she asked. She knew very well when people wanted her out of the way.
“We have!
” Toby replied, sounding pleased.
“Why am I being left out of it?” she asked.
“I’m afraid it requires deception, Miss. And we all know by now that you must always speak the truth and that lies cause you pain. Your uncle said something lawyerly about plausible deniability. It’s a good plan though, and if it uses deception, it’s only to redress injustices brought by greater deception.”
“I can see where my curse would be a liability in that case,” she said with a sigh, and gave him one of the beads she and the young ones had made. She wasn’t sure it would work for him, but later in the night she heard his steps in the corridor and sometime later the rush of wings. His was only the first departure that night. By morning, the ice fortress was emptier than it had been when she first came, since now there was no Sgt. Foote, Isabelle, or Toby. Since Toby had taken Loveday and Copperwise as well as Taz, the only dragon remaining was the convalescing Vitia. Uncle Nic and Gypsy—well, Princess—well, Mother—were also gone.
Her work was interrupted by roaring that was both frightening and pitiful. Rising for the first time longer than necessary to use the chamber pot, Verity rose, stretched painfully, and followed the bellowing through a serpentine corridor blocked by a massive door built into the ice. On the other side of the door, the corridor continued, but off to one side a staircase and a long broad slide made of ice led to the top of the glacier, where the damaged dragon lay. Pulling another bead from her skirt, Verity approached Vitia and said, “Never mind, Madame, your children will come back soon enough. Toby will take good care of them, and Taz will take them under her wing. I don’t know what’s going on, but I suppose we’ll find out soon enough. Meanwhile, although I can’t sing very well yet, I could hum you the lullaby I used to sing your babies to sleep.”
The great dragon wasn’t exactly a receptive audience, but neither did she roast Verity alive.
Relocating the Rations
A letter from Attorney Balgair demanding Malachy Sieke’s appearance at foreclosure hearings in Queenston drew him away from the property. In his absence, the dragons enjoyed their part of the mission, which involved hunting. They didn’t care for the part where they had to give their kill to other dragons—those who previously had been content to live on kibble. Toby salvaged a certain amount of the treated kibble while the delighted dragons burned the fields with great panache, swooping, searing and scorching little patterns in the crops until the burning patches met and the whole ranch was ablaze.
Sgt. Foote and Brazorian railroaders from the Velasco/Drague run took over from there with a borrowed boxcar full of the salvaged treated grain and a switch engine driven from the farms to the repair depot at Wormroost.
Attorney Balgair’s first assignment, as a human, was writing the letter that lured Malachy Sieke from Hide-in Valley back to Queenston. The letter was not signed by Attorney Balgair, but by a supposed creditor who was threatening to foreclose on Hide-in Valley Farms. Balgair sent a separate, signed letter to Captain Lewis, containing a letter of credit and instructions on scuttling a certain Frostingdungian vessel with cargo that would be bound for Hide-in Valley. The packet also contained the handsome dress uniform of an admiral in the navy of a foreign country and a ticket for a particular deluxe train trip north.
The foxy lawyer next composed invitations he had printed, engraved, embossed, and delivered by liveried messenger to the city’s elite, who also served on the board of directors of Widderwinds Amalgamated.
He collected Madame Marsha, (who had designed and tailored both the admiral’s uniform and the livery to look authentically official and exotic) and the entire tribe of Gypsy Molly’s nomadic relations and took the night train for Wormroost Station, stopping along the way to do a bit of bribery which thoroughly delighted the trolls, who decided to take a long-overdue vacation to the seashore.
One-Time Only Opportunity
Noble Sir and/or Madame,
You have been recommended as one who can advise me on how best to develop the potential of an important scientific discovery. In the utmost confidentiality and secrecy, you have been selected to learn more about this discovery and the part you may play in its growth.
If you would like to know more about the potential for investment in this warm water year-round port on the previously unsurveyed northern coast of Argonia, you will board the specially chartered northbound night train and a luxuriously appointed first class accommodation, meals included, will whisk you north to a special presentation by Her Royal Highness, from whose lands originate the warm current creating the port.
Be sure to pack for a long weekend at our summer palace. Pack warm clothing, extra socks, and currency. This opportunity will not be repeated.
Sincerely,
Her Royal Highness,
Aakanksha, Maharani of Klandestan,
Acting Regent of Kashnkari
Sophronia sniffed and handed the letter back to Briciu. “Why was she sending it to me?”
“She probably intended it for your step-daughter, but of course, you, in loco parentis, would be the one to make the journey. I will accompany you as your protector, of course.” He was a bit suspicious to say the least, but he didn’t want to miss out or neglect being included in the pay-off if it was on the level and if it wasn’t, he could get himself included in the plan and perhaps protect his mutual interests with Sophronia as well. For generations there had been talk of a mythical port in the far north of Argonia, beyond where anyone had traveled over land or sea.
“Naturally. I don’t understand why all the urgency, though. Why can we not go when it’s more convenient? I have a fitting at the dressmaker’s tomorrow afternoon, and we’re invited to the Magistrate’s get-together on the weekend.”
He handed her a second letter, this one with Magistrate Sieke’s regrets that due to unforeseen circumstances he had been forced to cancel the party. “This is an enormous opportunity, Sophronia. It will have a huge impact on the way the country does business. A warm water port so far north will give our ships access to unknown lands and their treasure. This Kashnkari, for instance, sounds promising.
“I suspect His Excellency also received a letter from Her Highness. I suspect that all of the Best People have. This may be what we need to turn your limited control of Verity’s estate into a sizable fortune of our own.”
The shrewdness of his insight was reinforced when, upon boarding the train and being shown into the velvet curtained, Miragenian carpeted, gas lit first class passenger car, they found Magistrate Sieke and virtually all of Sophronia’s dearest friends among the social, political, and financial elite of Queenston already comfortably seated on the opulently upholstered divans, sipping drinks from gold-rimmed crystal flutes and nibbling little cakes on translucent china plates embellished with golden dragons.
“I’ve not heard of Princess Aakanksha until recently, but she appears to be quite wealthy,” Magistrate Sieke’s fourth wife, the petite blonde and always beautifully dressed and bejeweled Felonia said.
“Aye, m’lady, you have the right of that!” said a person in an elegantly formal admiral’s uniform. “She’s the unmarried daughter of the late Maharajah of Kashnkari, who was killed in a tragic elephant accident with the rest of his family, save Her Highness and her infant brother. Filthy rich—excuse me, your lordships—fabulously wealthy and always funding scientific expeditions, the Maharajah was, which is how I came to know of the royal family. Poor little princess is a lonely girl, though, with nobody to arrange her marriage for her except a bunch of greedy old wazirs and such.”
“How sad,” Briciu said, dropping the hand holding Sophronia’s.
“Pitiful,” the admiral agreed.
“I suppose that’s why the immediacy,” the Magistrate said. “As a regent, the Maharani will have only a limited time to act as she sees fit before the young prince comes to the throne.”
Everyone agreed that he must be right.
When Malachy Sieke boarded at the Hide-in Valley Station, he smelled of
smoke. Behind him came a disheveled young lady whose blonde curls were blackened with soot and behind her came a porter, lugging a steamer trunk. “Idiot,” she said to the porter. “Do you think I want to change in public? Put this in our private compartment.”
The porter said, “The Pullman car is not yet available, Miss.”
“What nonsense is this?” she demanded. “The Maharani’s message specified first class luxury transportation. That surely includes a sleeping car!”
“So sorry, Miss.”
“The Maharani shall hear what I think of this!” the girl said with a flounce, and sat down beside a tray of little cakes, one of which she stuffed in her mouth, no doubt hoping it would give her something further to complain of. Instead, rather to the relief of the other passengers, she took a second cake and a third.
The lack of the Pullman car was somewhat compensated for when they reached the troll bridge, went over the troll bridge, and did not have to stop at the troll bridge.
“Are the trolls on holiday?” The Magistrate asked the swarthy conductor. Although the other passengers were relieved the trolls were absent, the magistrate was not pleased since he got a percentage of the troll toll and had authorized no holiday.”
“Her Highness took care of their fees in advance, sir,” the conductor replied with a bow.
“She must be some powerful highness!” the Minister of Mines said.
The admiral, who sat in a corner with his head tucked between the window and the top of the bench, his hat tilted over his eyes, smiled piratically.
The conductor drew the velvet curtains to allow everyone to rest before their final destination.
The Dragon, the Witch, and the Railroad Page 30