Secret of the Dragon

by Jessica Drake

  I helped Tavarian back to the underground palace, where he fell asleep almost immediately. As he snored softly, the two of us snuggled in while the dragons slept, I stared up at the ceiling, brooding over the implications of what we'd learned. Using the spell on the boar had taken a lot out of him—even more so than the tree. Would he faint if he used it on the autocrator and it took too much out of him?

  Don't be silly, I chided myself. Tavarian had nearly passed out, yes, but that was after an hour of practice. He would be refreshed and ready when it came time to face the autocrator. I just hoped he didn't miss and accidentally hit anyone else, because we'd only have two or three shots before he burned out completely.

  That's what back up plans are for, I told myself. I pulled a small glass perfume bottle from my pocket and held it up. The tiny bit of moonlight filtering into the tent glinted off the polished glass. It was too dark to see the liquid, but I knew it was a lurid green--a special poison derived from the juice of a tiny mushroom. If I could get close enough to spritz this at the autocrator, he would be dead within minutes.

  But that was a last resort, to be used only if Tavarian didn’t have a clear shot. If Tavarian used the spell and failed, there would be no opportunity to get close to the autocrator. Because the two of us would be dead.

  9

  The next morning, the dragons took us to Zuar City. Serpol used his magic to keep us hidden as we soared through the sky in broad daylight, and we set down in Briarwood Forest, just ten miles away from the west gate. A shiver raced through me I scanned the familiar trees—the last time I’d been here, on what was supposed to be a stealth training exercise, we’d been attacked by a Zallabarian airship, and Ullion had nearly lost his dragon. Zara and I had managed to bring it down with Rhia and Ykos’s help, but the show of force had been terrifying, our first glimpse of what the Zallabarians were truly capable of.

  "Be careful, Lessie," I said as I hugged her goodbye. "Remember, reconnaissance only. No barbecuing until we give the go-ahead."

  "Spoilsport," she huffed affectionately. "I'm the one who should be telling you to be careful. You're about to go into the enemy's lair, and you don't even have dragon hide to protect you."

  "I guess we'll both have to be careful, then," I said lightly, trying not to let my doubts crowd in. I'd spent enough time last night thinking of all the ways this could go wrong--now was the time for action.

  Serpol flapped his wings, and the three dragons shimmered out of existence, cloaked by his magic. As they took flight, the wind from their wings kicked up dust into our faces, forcing me to shield my eyes. Apparently Serpol's spell didn't hide their presence completely--I wondered what an airship crew would think if they saw a bird fly into one of the dragons, splatting against a huge, invisible beast. They would probably be baffled. The ridiculous thought made me smile.

  "We should disguise ourselves now," Tavarian said. "Did you pack your change of clothes?"

  "Yes." I pulled a simple blue dress and bonnet out of my bag. My boots--spelled to hide the sound of my footfalls--would stay on, but the dress was long enough to hide them, and it had a specially stitched pocket in the skirt to tuck my dragon blade into. I pulled on the outfit while Tavarian changed into trousers, a red-and-white checkered shirt, and a navy blue vest. A pair of round spectacles went onto his nose, and he used his magic to alter his face, softening his angular features to make himself appear more ordinary and dulling his arresting silver eyes to a faded, unassuming blue.

  "Your turn," he said, cupping my face in his hands.

  My cheeks tingled as his magic worked its way into my skin, and I watched in the reflection of his eyes as he made my nose and cheeks rounder, my lips thinner, my skin darker. My eyes became dark brown and slanted, and the stray curls peeking out from beneath my bonnet turned coal black.

  "Huh." I pursed my lips as I studied my new look. "I kinda like it." I couldn't have looked more different, but there was something appealing about that. Like I was reinventing myself.

  "Good." Tavarian pecked my forehead, then took my hand in his. "Now let's go. We have a lot to do."

  We set out on foot, hand in hand, with our packs slung across our shoulders like a married couple on a journey. Which, in a way, we were--not married yet, although perhaps we soon would be, but we were a couple on a journey. We walked for about an hour, discussing our plans for the day, then stopped in a village where we changed into more respectable clothing and hired a carriage to take us the rest of the way.

  Like last time, there were guards stationed at each gate, screening the entrants. I noticed that this time there were two lines: One was made up of merchants, driving carts or traveling with donkeys, entering the city to sell their wares. They were regulars who already had passes, and were waved in quickly. The second line, which we stood in, was made up of travelers planning to visit friends or family or here for business.

  "Names?" the guard asked as we rolled up.

  Tavarian poked his head out the window. He looked down at the guard with such an air of superiority that I had to choke back a laugh. "Mr. and Mrs. Brighton," he said in a snooty voice. "My wife and I have traveled all the way from Littington after hearing that the dragon rider estates are being sold off. We hope to acquire some new pieces for our home."

  "You're collectors, then?" the guard said. He took in Tavarian's velvet hat and the gold watch chain hanging from his waistcoat pocket, no doubt deciding whether or not we were wealthy enough to travel all this way just for some antiques. He scribbled something on the pad he was carrying, then handed us a sheet of paper. "You'll need a trading pass, then. This'll last you a week."

  "A week is sufficient." Tavarian tucked the pass into his pocket, then turned away, clearly dismissing the man.

  I wondered whether it was wise to provoke the guard in this way, but the man let us through without incident, though he was a bit grumpy about it.

  "Guards are used to entitled toffs treating them like the help," Tavarian said, reading the look on my face. "It would have been more suspicious if I'd been deferential."

  "Right." The affluent customers who came into the Treasure Trove acted the same way, expecting to be waited on hand and foot. And, of course, Carina and I put up with it because we wanted the money. I imagined the guards had been told to let all traders through; the city needed all the gold it could get, since the occupation was putting a crimp in the nation's economy. People were a lot less likely to travel and spend their money when there were Zallabarian guards everywhere, watching for even the slightest hint of suspicious behavior. That kind of atmosphere really put a damper on vacations.

  Though I desperately wanted to see Carina and our shop, we traveled straight to Dragon's Table instead, where we booked a room at an exclusive hotel known to be frequented by Zallabarian officers and officials. Tavarian and I had packed a small fortune's worth of gold to help solidify our cover as wealthy merchants, so the suite we were shown into was lavish, with plush furnishings and priceless artwork decorating each room, a large four-poster bed, and a bathtub big enough to fit four people with room to spare.

  "I wondered what they'd done with the dragon rider academy," I said softly as I stared out the tall window in the suite's living room. I could see the academy from here, and my heart twisted at the sight of Zallabarian flags flying from its towers and turrets instead of the dragon rider family emblems. Memories rose in my head--of Lessie's first flight, of Major Falkieth's warfare lessons, of time spent in the stables, of long walks with Rhia and exciting adventures with Jallis. It felt like another lifetime ago.

  "At least they haven't torn it down," Tavarian said, coming to stand behind me. The Zallabarians had turned the academy into a barracks for the soldiers, who were out doing drills in the fields. I wondered how the Zallabiaran soldiers felt, practicing in the very spot our dragons had once used as a playground. There would still be huge prints left in the ground from dragons running and playing. Not to mention dragon dung, some of which was gigantic, de
pending on the size of the dragon. As cadets, we’d had to clean the field every week, and I smirked at the thought of the Zallabarians being forced to do it when they moved in.

  Tavarian and I washed up, then went downstairs to the hotel's restaurant for lunch. As we waited for our food to arrive, Tavarian leaned across the table and slid his hand into my hair, a tender look in his eye. I might have thought he was simply being romantic, if not for the sparks of magic pricking at my ear. A second later, the background noise came sharply into focus, and my eyes widened as the vague buzz of sound turned into real conversations.

  "What do you mean, you are out of lobster bisque?" a woman complained to the waiter. She sounded like she was right next to me, but when I craned my neck, tracing the sound, I saw she was five tables away.

  "Get this salad out to table nine!" I heard someone else say from all the way in the kitchen. The voice was quickly swept away in the tide of other conversations. Overwhelmed, I resisted the urge to clap my hand over my ears.

  Tavarian took my hand in his. "A hearing-amplification spell," he said. "I know it seems like you're being bombarded with sound right now, but you can control it. Just pick one conversation and focus in on it. The others will fade out as you follow the trail of sound."

  The waiter brought us our soup, and I did as Tavarian said while eating spoonfuls of seafood chowder, picking one conversation thread at a time, deciding whether it was worth listening to, then moving onto the next.

  "I have to say that this Elantian food is getting tiresome," a captain was saying. "I miss my wife's home cooking."

  "Why don't you bring her out here?" the other officer asked. "We're stuck here for at least a year. If I had a wife at home, especially one who could cook, I'd have brought her out here first thing."

  "I thought about it," the captain said, "but I don't like the mood of the city right now. The Elantians are growing more and more restive, bucking against authority, ignoring curfews, hosting secret meetings. You'd think we would have beaten them into submission by now."

  "They are a stubborn people and not used to being on the losing side," the other officer said. "It will take them time to accept their defeat."

  "Yes, well, in the meantime I don't feel safe bringing my wife out here," the captain grumbled. "She's safe back home, with her family, so she'll stay there unless the situation changes. I'll just have to put in a request for leave in a few months. Don't want her to forget she's still married."

  "That's an odd way of saying that you want to see her because you miss her," the officer said, sounding amused. "Still, it isn't so bad here. After all, the autocrator is coming to visit, isn't he? He wouldn't come if he didn't think it was safe."

  "The autocrator will have a personal army guarding him at all times," the captain said. "Of course it'll be safe, for him."

  We listened for another hour, but didn't hear anything of note. The officers in general seemed very tense about the autocrator's visit and determined to protect him at all costs. Rumors of rebellion were swirling around in the streets. Not great for us, since it was putting them all on edge.

  But at least it meant the spies and recruiters we'd planted were doing their jobs.

  After lunch, Tavarian went out to scout the most likely venues for the autocrator's visit, since no one knew exactly where he'd be staying yet. Feeling tired, I retreated to the suite and lay down for a much-needed nap.

  I was just nodding off when a sharp knock at the door startled me awake. I bolted upright, my hand slipping beneath the pillow next to me, where I'd tucked away my dragonblade. "Who is it?" I called.

  The door flew open, and two Zallabarian soldiers marched in.

  "Why I never!" I scolded, using my best scandalized tone as I jumped to my feet. My heart rate sped up as they pinned me with identical, narrow-eyed stares, taking in my rumpled hair and the simple shift I'd stripped down to sleep in. "How dare you barge into my room like this!"

  "Sorry, ma'am," the guard on the left said, though he didn't sound sorry at all. He was a strawberry blond, while his partner was a brunette with a hooked nose. "The governor has ordered us to check into all hotel guests. Where is your husband?"

  "Out shopping," I said stiffly. "I planned to join him, but I was feeling under the weather, as you can see."

  "We'll have to come back and speak to him separately, then," Hooked Nose said. "Where is your permit?"

  I produced it for them, and the guards were silent for a minute as they studied it. "A trade permit?" Strawberry Blond asked. "For what?"

  "My husband and I are merchants," I explained. "We have a special fondness for antiquities. When we heard that the dragon rider estates were being sold off, we couldn't resist coming out here, even though it is a long way from home. I am somewhat of an expert, you see."

  "An expert?" Hooked Nose snorted, as if he couldn't believe a woman like me would have any interest in antiques. He dug out a box from his pocket and popped it open to reveal a heavy gold signet ring. "I just bought this. It's supposed to be the signet ring for House Yanorin, close to two-thousand-years old."

  I held back a snort of my own--my treasure sense barely made a peep, which told me this ring was a cheap knockoff. Still, I made a great show of taking the ring and inspecting it for a minute. "It's a fake," I pronounced.

  "A fake?" The soldier scowled. "I bought this from a reputable dealer!"

  "It's a fake," I repeated and scored the side of the ring with my finger. The gold flaked away, revealing copper beneath. "Real signet rings are solid gold. Not to mention that the design of the seal itself is not quite accurate." I knew all the house emblems like the back of my hand.

  "Unbelievable." Hooked Nose took the ring back, shaking his head. "Well, it seems you are who you say you are. I'll be having a talk with that dealer."

  "You should go to the Treasure Trove next time you’re looking for antiques," I suggested, inwardly getting a kick out of sending the enemy to my own shop.

  "Isn't that in the Lower City?" Strawberry Blond asked. "They don't sell high-quality items like that down there."

  "My husband and I stopped by there earlier today, and we found the shop to be surprisingly well-stocked with valuable items." I tried not to bristle at the insult. It would seem that our location would always work against us, no matter how good of a reputation we'd built up. "If you are a collector, I would recommend a visit."

  "I'll keep that in mind." Hooked Nose inclined his head. "Thank you for your time, Mrs. Brighton."

  The two soldiers left, and I locked the door behind them, though I knew it was no use. I was sure I'd locked it before and they'd entered--they must have a master key that gave them access to all the rooms. I imagined that these searches and interrogations put a damper on the guests' experience, but I hadn't heard anyone complain about it over lunch, so they must not mind too much. I wouldn't be surprised if the hotel had been stolen from the original proprietor and given to a collaborator, someone who wouldn’t mind giving Zallabarian soldiers free run of the place.

  Wired from the exchange, I went to the bar to pour myself a drink, then settled in a chair by the window with a book, hoping the wine and the story would allow me to relax. But an hour later, someone knocked on the door again.

  "Who is it?" I called, a little exasperated. What was the point of renting a private suite if people were going to bug you anyway? I might as well have camped out in the lobby instead.

  "Sergeant Hickley," a man called back. After a moment, he added. "The one with the phony signet ring."

  "Oh." Hooked Nose. Frowning, I set the book aside and went to answer the door, my stomach tightening with nerves. Why was he back? Did something about my story or behavior set him off? Palming a dagger, I slid it up the sleeve of my left hand, loosely cradling the tip in my palm just in case I needed to use it.

  "Sorry to bother you again, ma'am," the sergeant said when I opened the door, "but I require your services."

  "My services?" I stared at him, non-plussed. />
  "As an antiquities expert. I have some more items I need verified, quite important ones, actually. You will be compensated for your time."

  "I see." It was on the tip of my tongue to refuse, but I didn't want to arouse his suspicions. A legitimate trader wouldn’t balk at any business opportunity. Besides, making friends with him might prove useful. "I will help if I can. When does this need to be done?"

  "Preferably now."

  “Very well. Give me a minute to make myself presentable.”

  I changed back into my day dress, then left Tavarian a quick note explaining where I was going. The sergeant took me to a house a few blocks away, where I was shown into what had once been a parlor room, judging by the sideboard and the pretty pink-and-white striped wallpaper. My treasure sense went nuts as we approached several long tables that had been arranged in rows, and I hid a wince as I muted the sound, which was like a cacophony of bells clanging in my head. There was a fortune’s worth of relics and valuables here.

  "Where did you find these?" I breathed, picking up a priceless vase. The ceramic gleamed softly in the light streaming in through the windows, and I admired the painstakingly detailed floral designs painted onto it. "This is Golden Age. Worth at least fifty gold dorans."

  "Really?" The sergeant seemed pleased. "I'm glad to hear that. We confiscated these from a dragon rider's estate. Most of them will be sent back home to Zallabar, to be displayed in museums, but my fellow officers and I would like to present a few of the most valuable ones to the autocrator. A sort of souvenir to commemorate this visit, if you will."

  "I see." My stomach turned sour at the thought of the autocrator getting his hands on any of these, and I was appalled at the idea of our relics being displayed in foreign museums, as if our country had already been relegated to the annals of history. But I hid those thoughts behind a bright smile and said, "I'd be more than happy to assist."

  The sergeant wanted me to verify that everything on the tables was genuine, so I spent the next two hours painstakingly studying each object, even though my treasure sense told me in an instant which items were most valuable. Part of me was tempted to declare some of the pricier pieces as fakes, but I didn't want to push my luck just now. I didn't need that coming back to bite me later if the sergeant used a second person to verify them.