Daughter of Dragons

by Jack Campbell

They were nearly among those buildings when Kira heard the tramp of feet and the sound of some metal objects clanking against each other. "Jason! Follow me!"

  She ran into the shadow of the nearest building, crouching behind the stairs at the entry. Jason had just joined her when several men and women came into sight not much more than ten lances away. They all wore stout leather armor on their chests and shoulders, and all carried short swords as well as hardwood truncheons. One also carried a pistol in a holster at his hip.

  "It's a night patrol of the city watch," Kira whispered to Jason.

  The patrol paused to look around the open area for any signs of trouble. Kira, still watching, held her head absolutely still to avoid giving them any movement to spot.

  The leader of the patrol gazed up at the wall and saluted, speaking in a normal voice that carried easily in the quiet of the night. "All's well, daughter."

  Kira felt a momentary jolt of worry that her mother was here, then realized that the patrol officer had saluted the statue atop the wall.

  "What would happen if we didn't salute her one night?" another officer joked.

  "I don't know, and I don't want to know," the first replied. "And you don't want the captain finding out you didn't do it. He was on that wall with her when they broke the legions, remember? If he hears you didn't respect the daughter he'll rip your hide off."

  "Do you think her daughter is coming here? With that Urth kid?" a third asked.

  "No telling. If we see them, we take them in. Those are our orders."

  "What if the girl doesn't want to be taken in and she really is anything like her mother?"

  "Then," the leader of the patrol replied, "we will all earn our pay and hopefully none of us get hurt too badly. But we do our jobs. We take them in."

  "The daughter's girl wouldn't hurt cops," another said.

  "I hope not. But the Urth boy is another matter. We don't take any chances with him."

  "Why's the daughter's girl running away with him? Something doesn't fit."

  "Maybe he took her hostage. I don't know. Nobody else does, either. That's why we take her and him in if we see them. And if he makes any false moves, we take him down any way we need to before he can hurt us or the daughter's girl."

  Kira gritted her teeth. It was easy to fight bad people trying to do bad things, but what about good people trying to do something bad because they thought it was good? How could she hurt any of those police if they confronted her and Jason? But if the police were poised to hurt Jason at the slightest sign of trouble, how could she prevent him from being hurt or killed?

  The police moved on, and Kira edged closer to Jason. "Listen. If we get trapped by the police or any other authorities here, I will bluff them as long as I can while you run. Don't hesitate when that happens. Just go, as fast as you can, and keep trying to hide."

  "I can't do that," Jason said. She couldn't see his expression well in the dark, but he still sounded sullen.

  "Jason, if the police pick you up, people will be talking about that on far-talkers and your mother will find you."

  "I'm just supposed to run away and leave you to face everything alone?"

  Kira sighed. "Jason, you heard them, didn't you? They think you're a threat. They might—"

  "I thought we needed to get to the harbor before dawn."

  She stood up, recognizing that continuing to argue would be futile. "Do what I said."

  He didn't answer, following silently as Kira moved quickly along side streets, listening for more police and trying to avoid encounters with the few other people out in these hours before dawn.

  As they passed the third wall from the water, Kira looked upwards. Somewhere on that wall, Sergeant Kira had died. She wondered what the namesake she had never met would think of her.

  Was it just a coincidence that a light breeze chose that moment to play with her hair?

  She pushed the pace, Jason doggedly keeping up with her even though she heard occasional grumbles under his breath. But it was getting close to dawn by the time Kira poked her head cautiously around the corner of a building on the waterfront to examine one of the piers where outgoing ships sold passenger tickets. "Wait here," she whispered to Jason, before dashing across the street.

  The big board where sailings and prices were posted was easy to find, but so was a large notice also posted on it. Made of oddly glossy paper, it showed a picture of Jason that must be a "photo" like the old ones the librarians had. Apparently, despite Jason's shock at the use of actual paper, the Urth ship was capable of printing those notices. She peered closely at the notice, trying to see how it had been printed. Whatever method had been used, nothing on it looked like it had been done by hand. Kira looked down the pier, seeing other copies of the notice posted at the booths where the tickets were actually sold.

  She ran back to Jason and shook her head. "They have pictures of you posted. I was going to have you buy the tickets again, but they'd be certain to recognize you. And they'd be certain to recognize me."

  "So we can't get tickets? The only way to get them is in person?"

  "We couldn't exactly preorder tickets through an agent!" Kira rubbed her eyes, tired and trying not to become frantic. Dawn was getting nearer. Time was running out, and she didn't have a plan. "Let's go down and check the other piers. Maybe we can buy passage on a cargo ship. There are going to be workers starting to show up very soon and we have to avoid being seen clearly by them."

  They darted from shadow to shadow, street to street, Kira trying to keep to places where the shadows loomed like solid pools of black. She strained her senses for signs of danger, hearing the skitterings of rats and once jumping in alarm when a wharf cat darted past. But someone must have spotted them despite Kira's precautions. They had just reached the warehouses fronting on the cargo piers when three figures emerged out of the night as if they had been Mage creatures summoned into existence. Kira froze in mid-step, staring at the old-model Mechanics Guild revolver in one of the men's hands. The other man and a woman held daggers. Even in the dimness Kira could see that the hard faces of the three held no trace of mercy.

  The man with the revolver jerked the barrel toward the alley entrance the three had come out of. "In there."

  Kira judged her chances and didn't like the odds. Her pistol was still in its holster, since anyone seeing her walking around the city with a weapon in hand would have notified the police for sure. In the time it would take her to reach into her jacket and draw the pistol, the man with the revolver could fire several shots.

  If it looks like you don't have a chance, don't throw your life away. Wait until they make a mistake, Aunt Bev had advised Kira.

  She hoped the three were only thieves. "You can have our money."

  "We'll take the money, and a lot more besides," the man remarked with a derisive laugh. "What are you worth? We already know the boy can earn us a big reward. But how much will the daughter pay to get you back?"

  "Maybe," Kira said, trying to keep her voice level, "you should be worrying about what the daughter will do to anyone who hurts her daughter."

  "Ain't planning to hurt you, girl," the man said. "Not much, anyway." He grinned unpleasantly. "You ever had a real man before?"

  "A real man wouldn't be asking that question," Kira said, not having to feign the contempt in her voice.

  "You'll see otherwise!"

  "Vac," the woman warned. "We can't waste time."

  Jason finally spoke, his voice that of the sullen teen again but with a quavering undercurrent of fear. "You're…you're not going to hurt me, are you?"

  Kira was surprised that her foremost emotion at that moment was disappointment.

  "No, boy, not as long as you're good," the man said with a scornful laugh. "Both of you, in the alley."

  Kira, with the revolver pointed at her, began moving slowly toward the alley, watching for any opportunity, her body tense, adrenaline urging action, any action, while her mind commanded patience.

  Jason fo
llowed Kira, slouching along with a defeated posture. What had happened to him? Had everything good she had seen of Jason since they left her home been an act?

  The man with the pistol kept close enough to Kira to threaten her but far enough off to stay out of her reach. None of the three appeared worried about Jason, who was acting and sounding thoroughly cowed.

  Jason suddenly moved, throwing himself at the man with the revolver. They stumbled sideways, hitting the wall on one side of the alley. The revolver went off as the man's finger jerked on the trigger, the bullet slamming into a pile of trash nearby. Both Jason and the man fell, Jason wrestling with him for control of the weapon.

  The second man was just turning to lunge at Jason with his dagger when Kira exploded into motion. Her body followed years of training in self-defense. She darted forward and planted a hard punch from the waist in his kidney, causing him to reel back, staggering with pain. Aware of the remaining threat, Kira pivoted as the woman rushed in, leg lashing out with a kick that narrowly avoided the woman's dagger slash. The kick caught the woman square in the gut, doubling her over. Kira stepped closer, slamming her stiffened palm against the side of the woman's head, which snapped to one side as the woman fell.

  The man with the dagger had managed to straighten and was coming at her this time, moving awkwardly. Kira dodged to one side, twisting around to slam a kick against the man's back as he stumbled past. The kick drove him against the other wall of the alley hard enough to knock him out.

  As the second man dropped unconscious, Kira spun toward the first man and Jason. The man, substantially out-weighing Jason and clearly stronger, had twisted around on top and was gradually forcing down Jason's arms. Jason had a grip on the revolver but was losing the battle to control it.

  Kira stepped closer and lashed out with a furious kick that connected with the side of the man's head, knocking him off Jason. He tried to stagger to his feet, but Kira slammed another kick into his head that hurled him against one side of the alley, the revolver flying unheeded from his hand.

  "Are you all right?" Kira gasped as she pulled Jason to his feet.

  "Yeah," Jason said, breathing heavily and staring at the three unconscious bodies. "You're really dangerous. Do you know that?"

  "It runs in the family. That was an act? Sounding frightened and all?"

  "Yeah. I learned a long time ago that being underestimated is my best weapon." He seemed to be slightly in shock, staring at her. "They would have killed you."

  "Probably not," Kira said. "But they would have hurt me. I owe you." She heard the rap of hardwood clubs against stone streets. "The police heard that shot. They'll be converging on this spot. We have to run."

  Jason still seemed dazed so she tugged him into motion, straight across the street to the warehouses on the waterfront. "Where are we going?" Jason asked. "What's that noise?"

  "We're going to hide in that warehouse," Kira said. "The noise is police using their clubs to rap out a simple code and exchange information with other police in the area."

  "They communicate over distance by using wooden clubs?" Jason seemed impressed again.

  "Yeah, guy who came from Urth in a big silver bubble ship." She knelt by the door into the warehouse. "Oh, sweet, this is an easy one."

  "What do I do?"

  "Try to look like a wall." Kira worked frantically, knowing that she had only seconds to pick the lock. The welcome click came and she pulled it open. "Inside."

  She shoved him in first, sliding through after and closing the door. She caught a glimpse of a pair of patrol officers running down the street, but neither seemed to be looking toward the warehouse.

  Closing the door, Kira beckoned to Jason and wove her way through the barrels and crates crowding the warehouse. She kept going until they reached the large doors giving access to the quay.

  Someone was talking on the other side of the closed door leading to the water. "If they shut the street down we won't be able to get our workers in here. You'll have to wait."

  A gruff woman's voice answered. "We have to make the tide or lose most of a day."

  "We can't load you without workers! If the police seal off the street because of whatever caused that gunshot The Son of Taris will have to wait just like everybody else."

  The Son of Taris must be a ship, Kira realized. One eager to sail. She ran from crate to crate, looking for any marked with that name.

  There. Several crates, one of them more than a lance-length wide and about as deep. "Here, Jason. This crate is our ticket out of Dorcastle. The shipping label says it's a big metal casting so there should be a lot of packing in there. Help me get it open."

  She grabbed one of the pry bars left leaning against another crate and passed a second one to Jason. The argument outside was continuing, more voices joining in, while sound from the street was growing in volume as more police arrived and excited crowds of workers gathered. Kira could only pray that whatever noise she and Jason made breaking into the crate would be masked.

  Kira levered the pry bar, Jason helping with his, the top of the crate rising with a protesting squeal from the nails holding it shut. Kira waited, but the argument outside continued with no sign the noise had been noticed.

  She looked inside. A large, heavy casting. Packing material filled up the volume left empty inside the crate. Despite her nerves screaming for her to act as quickly as possible, Kira took a moment to study the inside of the crate, then yanked out some of the packing material on one side. "Can you fit in there?"

  Jason grimaced, but squeezed himself inside, half-curled around the casting. Kira shoved a bit of the packing back inside to cushion him, then yanked out more on the other side of the casting to fit her. She ran back into the warehouse a ways with an armful of the discarded packing material, tossing it into a dark spot between two stacks of crates, then retraced her steps.

  And as she stared at the Kira-sized rat's nest she had made within the crate, she hesitated, unable to move. This was quite likely a life and decision. She hadn't thought things through because there was no time for that. Did she dare trust her instincts? She wasn't her mother. She was the person who looked like her mother.

  Kira glanced over at Jason, who was looking back at her, waiting for their next move. He trusted her. Should she repay that trust by leaping into the dark?

  What made you decide to save Father the first time you met him? Kira had asked her mother years before.

  Her mother had spoken slowly, as if wanting to make certain that Kira remembered every word. I had to make a decision, and not making a decision would've been a decision to leave him to his fate. I couldn't do that. So I decided to save him, and he followed me, I don't know why, and because we kept moving we managed to survive.

  Not making a decision was making a decision not to move. A decision to fail. Kira inhaled deeply, nerved herself, and wriggled into the nest in the crate, using one hand to pull the top of the crate back into place from the inside. When she got far enough inside, Jason was able to grab the top and help her.

  They matched up the nails to the holes, then pulled as well as they could from the inside. "That's not tight," Jason whispered to her frantically.

  "I know!" Kira whispered back. "Shhh!"

  She heard the big door nearest the crate opening, and footsteps approaching.

  "This is the cargo for those swabs on the Taris. Get it moved so we can get them off our backs."

  "Hey, this one's damaged." Kira waited with a sinking heart as she heard the two workers running their hands over the top of the crate.

  "It's just a little loose. Pound it tight and they'll never know."

  Blows from a pry bar on the cover of the crate echoed painfully inside it, and soon thereafter the crate jerked as it was being moved out onto the pier to be loaded into The Son of Taris. Sunlight formed tiny threads of brightness along the seams between the planks making up the crate. Kira caught a clear whiff of the sea, grateful that the openings in the seams of the crate were large
enough to admit a little air.

  The dock workers walked into the warehouse to get more cargo. Kira heard the tiniest whisper from Jason. "Now what?"

  "We wait," she breathed in reply.

  "And then? What will happen once we're on that ship?"

  What would her mother do? Her father had told her the answer to that. "We'll improvise."

  "Improvise?"

  "Do you have a better plan?"

  The workers returned and fitted tackle to the crate. Kira felt it swinging upward and over, her stomach lurching at the motion. After hanging for a short time that felt much longer, the crate began lowering to the shouts of those outside. The light leaking in through the small gaps in the boards vanished as the crate entered the hold of The Son of Taris.

  Kira lay in the crate, fighting fear of being in the dark, confined space, wondering if the air inside the crate was growing fouler without a breeze to drive fresh air inside, and wondering what would happen next. Had she just doomed herself and Jason?

  Chapter 9

  Flying on a Roc should have been terrifying. Mari didn't know why it wasn't. After all, not only was she high in the air, so high that houses looked like small toys, but as a Mechanic she knew that it was physically impossible for something like Rocs to fly. The fact that the Mages insisted the Rocs weren't real birds, that they were imaginary, shouldn't have been any comfort. But then, Mages insisted that the entire world and everything in it was imaginary, illusions created by people. And there was something immensely comforting in the strength of the Roc beneath her. She lay along the upper back, the vast wings stretched out on either side, feeling the Roc's muscles moving beneath a cushion of feathers which were each large enough to overtop Mari's height if stood on end. Mage Saburo sat in front of Mari, just behind the Roc's neck. Hunter, Saburo called his Roc. Among the other changes since the fall of the Great Guilds, Mages who created Rocs were now allowed to name the creatures they created.

  A flight without stops all the way from Tiaesun to Danalee was a lot to expect from Rocs, but both Mage Saburo and Mage Alber insisted that their birds could do it. Neither one would have admitted to basing their assessment on their pride in their birds, because pride was an emotion they would not admit to, but Alain had reassured Mari that if the Rocs faltered the Mages would admit to error and bring them to ground short of Danalee.