Spine of the Dragon

by Kevin J. Anderson

  It was a warm night and she opened the balcony windows. Though she ate alone, the table set out for her could have seated ten people and fed twice as many.

  Taking Erical’s suggestion, she had requested a selection of Prirari cheeses: yellow ones with a hard rind, pale white cheeses veined with gray-blue mold, soft creamy cheeses mixed with dried berries. Some were smoked, others mild, some so strong they made her eyes water, but she tried them all, knowing the servants would probably report back to the cheesemakers. She sampled two types of Prirari apple wine, a dry and crisp variety that paired well with some cheeses, and a far sweeter vintage that she sipped for dessert.

  Servants brought in basins of steaming perfumed water. It was not exactly a bath, for the people of Prirari did not believe in baths or full immersion, but she scrubbed her face, rinsed her arms, and soaked her feet, and felt very refreshed.

  Through the open windows, she could hear sounds from the square below: musicians playing on multiple flutes, conversations in the streets, water splashing in a large memorial fountain. The outer walls of the governor’s mansion were bedecked with vine trellises, and the sweet smell of the night-blooming lilies wafted in on the breeze.

  Iluris was satisfied with the procession so far. She’d seen great examples of her people, and she didn’t feel sad or worried. She still had four districts to visit, many people to interview, and she knew her successor was out there.

  A sudden shout came from the hawk guards below. Iluris yanked her feet out of the basin of fragrant water and searched for a weapon. Was there an assassination attempt? She had been lulled by the serenity of Priestlord Erical, the marvelous godling, the warm reception in Prirari District. The uproar came from the floor below, and she heard the distinctive voice of Captani Vos.

  Iluris hurried to the window, looked down, and was shocked to see a wiry girl climbing the vines from the window just below. She had brown eyes, torn clothes, and ragged dark hair. The guards tried to grab her as she climbed the trellis, but the girl kicked at them with a bare foot. Climbing faster, she grinned roguishly, rather than in terror. One of the new hawk guards, young Nedd, used his sword to hack at the thick vines, breaking one loose. The girl lost her footing and swung, then snagged the adjacent trellis and kept climbing up toward the empra.

  Guards pulled down on the severed vine, and the girl snatched a different one, scrambling higher, but the trellis splintered, the vine snapped, and she began to fall toward the street below. Her dark eyes met Iluris’s for just an instant and the girl’s look of determination changed to disappointment.

  Captani Vos caught the girl’s foot with a gauntleted hand as she tumbled. She kicked again, but Vos and Nedd pulled together and raised the scamp back to the window and dragged her inside.

  The empra hurried to the door of her own suite to find two hawk guards standing alert, their faces tight. “What is happening downstairs?”

  “An intruder, Mother, possibly an assassin.” Indignant, Cyril refused to let her pass.

  “You are safe here,” Boro assured her.

  “I saw the girl,” Iluris said. “She didn’t look like an assassin.”

  Boro looked at her with a solemn expression. “One never knows what an assassin looks like, Mother.”

  “I want to see her. Take me downstairs, now.”

  Cyril blinked in alarm. “Is that wise? She could still be dangerous.”

  “You are my hawk guards. I assume you can protect me from a little girl?”

  Iluris pushed past them, and the two young guards followed her to the stairs and down to the next level. Inside the room, torn green vines were dragged across the sill. Vos, Nedd, and two other hawk guards held the girl, who wore a ragged shirt and rough-spun pantaloons with frayed cuffs. She struggled like a street cat. Nedd tried to tie her wrists together, but she kept breaking one hand free and striking him in the face. When she saw the empra, the girl renewed her thrashing.

  Iluris stepped forward, and the others in the room fell silent. “You’re caught, young lady. Do you really expect to escape my hawk guards?”

  “Maybe. They’re mostly incompetent.”

  Annoyed by the insult, Nedd tightened his grip, but she stopped fighting now that she had the empra’s attention.

  “She probably meant to stab you in your sleep, Mother,” said Captani Vos.

  “I wasn’t asleep,” Iluris said. “Did you find a knife on her?”

  The captani looked at his other guards. “We haven’t searched her yet.”

  “Then you’d better do so.”

  They quickly and roughly patted down the girl’s patched clothes, but to their consternation, they found no weapon.

  “Maybe she meant to scare me to death,” Iluris said, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “I just wanted to see you,” the girl insisted. “And to see if I could do it.”

  Iluris studied her. She had a pointed chin, high cheekbones, a roughly shorn mop of hair. Her large eyes and thin body gave her an ethereal appearance. “What is your name?”

  “Cemi. Don’t ask for my family or my lineage. It’s not impressive.”

  “She would have been disruptive, Mother.” Vos looked embarrassed. “We are sorry for the disturbance. We will deliver her to the Prirari authorities.”

  “You should be more sorry that you let me get so close,” Cemi interrupted with a snort. “Elite guards! What kind of protectors are you, if you let me climb within a few feet of the empra’s private chambers? I’ve been watching you all day. Hawk guards are supposed to be the best, the most loyal, the empra’s adopted sons! Yet, I slipped through the square below and sneaked into the governor’s mansion. They thought I was a servant! Then I got to the window and started climbing.” She sniffed. “I would have made it, too.”

  “But you didn’t,” said Vos. “We stopped you.”

  “Only at the very end. I did slip past five ranks of guards.”

  Iluris was both curious and impressed. “And how did you do this?”

  Cemi huffed. “Through observation and a quick wit.”

  “Certainly not with modesty,” Nedd grumbled.

  Klovus scuttled in, looking flushed. “Excellency, I heard you were in danger.”

  “She was never in danger,” Cemi said, before anyone else could respond. “I made it this far with the blessing of the godling. I made a sacrifice at the temple and prayed for a chance to see the empra.”

  Klovus looked at the dusty girl and scowled. “What kind of worthy sacrifice could you have made?”

  “I caught a rat. It was all I had.” She narrowed her brown eyes, challenging him. “Have you ever given all you had, Priestlord? Isn’t that what the godlings value in a sacrifice?”

  Iluris found herself chuckling. “How old are you, girl?”

  “Too young,” said Klovus.

  “Fifteen,” said Cemi. “I think. It’s not as if anyone celebrated my gift day each year.”

  “Fifteen … Do you know that I was only seventeen when I became empra of all Ishara?” She clucked her tongue. “My poor dear father accidentally fell from a tower window.”

  “Sounds too clumsy to be a ruler,” the girl quipped, to the gasps of the guards, the chamberlain, and Priestlord Klovus.

  “Maybe he just deserved it.” Iluris liked the girl’s scrappiness. She gestured to Captani Vos. “Have her brought upstairs. There’s far too much food for me to eat, and we may as well share it, so I can talk with her more.”

  They looked at her, horrified, but Iluris insisted. “If she made a sacrifice in order to speak to me, we wouldn’t want to insult the Prirari godling, now would we?” She left the room and headed down the corridor, calling over her shoulder, “I’ll expect the girl in half an hour—cleaned up and in fresh clothes.”

  Cemi yanked her arms free of the guards. “You heard the empra. Bathing water and new clothes!”

  Iluris smiled as she walked to the stairs, with Cyril and Boro hurrying to follow her. Cemi had nearly made it up into
the private chambers. With a little help and perhaps more training, she might have succeeded. Something about the girl intrigued her. Iluris decided it was worth investigating further.

  41

  THE Utauk trading ship entered the well-defended harbor cove on Fulcor Island. A Commonwealth warship was anchored at the mouth of the cove, while another patrolled the waters farther out. Five smaller vessels were tied up to a network of piers attached to the gray cliffs at the waterline.

  As Mak Dur expertly guided the Glissand through the reefs, the sailors flew flags with the prominent Utauk circle to declare their intentions. The navy patrol ships let them pass, and the vessel tied up to the only remaining slip on the wooden pier inside the harbor cove. Sheer rock faces blocked the only access up to the fortress on top of the cliffs. A wood-and-metal staircase was attached to the exposed rock, leading from the dock up to a cleft in the cliff, which granted access into the walled garrison.

  Hale looked at the smaller boats sharing the pier and recognized one Commonwealth vessel, perhaps a mail boat or supply ship. The others, though, were of a different design. He frowned grimly.

  Isharan vessels, as he had feared.

  The garrison soldiers were glad to see the trading ship, knowing that the Utauks brought amenities beyond their basic military rations. Because of the island’s defenses, there was no easy way to unload the Glissand’s goods and deliver them to the fortress at the top of the cliffs. The sailors had to carry the supplies up the steep, zigzagging staircase to the cleft high above. The crack opened to stone tunnels that led up inside the walled garrison.

  Hale changed into fresh crimson and black silks, tidied his hair with a tortoiseshell comb, and tugged on his shadowglass ear pendant for luck. He looked like a respectable merchant captain.

  He climbed the steep, exposed steps behind one man with a keg of ale on his shoulder and another man carrying a sack of dried beans. Because of his rank—and because of his missing left hand—Hale wasn’t asked to help carry the heavy cargo.

  At the top of the staircase, the traders entered the deep, cool shadows of the cleft. There, a thin man waited for them in an Osterran military uniform that looked wrinkled and threadbare. Hale had not visited Fulcor Island since his trading days a dozen years ago, but he recognized dour Watchman Osler, the garrison commander who had been stationed at this outpost for years. Osler had defended the strategic fortress against several skirmishes with the Isharans.

  Hale raised his good hand. “Greetings, Watchman. I am merchant captain of the Glissand. We trust our merchandise is welcome.”

  “Reminders from the outside are always welcome,” said the watchman. “For the sake of the Commonwealth, we stand guard against the evil Isharans and hold Fulcor Island at all costs, but some of my soldiers do get homesick. Your delivery will keep them happy for a while.”

  Osler’s face sagged, as if his years on the bleak island had made him bleak as well. His stringy hair was long and gray, and could have used a wash; his cheeks were grizzled with gray whiskers. After such a long assignment here, with little contact from the outside, the watchman didn’t tend to his personal appearance as he would have back in the Convera military headquarters.

  Hale, though, prided himself on his appearance, knowing that an impression lasted long after a meeting. “On this trading route, how could we not make your lives a little brighter?”

  He looked around with an intent gaze, watching the mood of the soldiers, but nothing seemed suspicious even after the horrific sight they had seen as they approached the island. What of all those victims they had seen thrown from the high walls down to the churning reefs…?

  “We are delighted,” said Osler, without even the hint of a smile on his face. “The amenities you bring will be most appreciated. I’ll have the cooks prepare whatever we have left for a feast, if you want to call it that. No need for rationing now that you’ve resupplied us.”

  “Cra, I’m happy enough with a feast of bean stew, old potatoes, and dried meat.” Hale kept his voice light, though his mind was filled with questions. He wanted to ask about the unexpected Isharan vessels tied up in the cove, but an Utauk leader was always careful when gathering information.

  Watchman Osler led him through the cleft in the rock, which was lit with flickering lanterns that smelled of fish oil. They climbed a set of wide stone steps and emerged into an open-air courtyard surrounded by the towering fortress walls. Inside, he saw several large barracks, an armory, a dining hall. Against the far wall stood the largest structure, a tall main keep with two wings, the roofs of which rose higher than the surrounding wall.

  On the barracks buildings, the soldiers put up swatches of colored fabric to remind them of their homeland. Around the barracks were garden plots, the sandy soil mixed with either guano or human fertilizer. Several buildings had cisterns on their roofs, open to the sky to catch rainwater from the frequent squalls.

  Hale nodded in satisfaction. “It looks like you have everything you need here, Watchman.”

  “We have the necessities, but that’s not enough to keep the soldiers happy. I know you brought fine cloth, sweetmeats, fresh fruits, and exotic treats, but when the nights grow cold and the sea wind blows hard, we need firewood and warm blankets. Did you bring those as well?”

  Hale bowed. “Since we were coming to Fulcor, we took on exactly those items at the port of Windyhead.”

  The Utauks spread out blankets and unloaded their items inside the walled courtyard, where the soldiers could haggle over luxury items, food, or mementos from home. The energetic preparations reminded Hale of a small Utauk camp gathering.

  The garrison soldiers were not wealthy, but they did have an allowance to spend when they went to Convera on leave. If the Utauks did their job right, those men would spend most of their coins here. Watchman Osler was indulgent with his men, even allowing some of the soldiers on patrol duty to come down so they wouldn’t miss out. Three soldiers were engaged in a bidding war for a thick multicolored blanket.

  Hale wondered how such men had thrown those victims to their deaths in the sea.

  Walking among the blankets, Osler studied the displayed wares. “Is that all of your goods? Your ship seemed larger than this would indicate. Are you holding anything back?”

  Hale drew a circle in the air. “We have other stops to make on our route, Watchman, but you have first pick of our goods.” In many ports, a trading ship could take on new merchandise to add to their inventory, but alas Fulcor had no goods to offer.

  Osler’s frown made his weathered face look even more rugged. “And where do you go next? Sailing all the way out to Fulcor Island is quite a diversion. Perhaps back to the northern coast of Osterra?”

  Hale responded with a casual smile and a dismissive gesture. “Utauk traders travel wherever we expect to find customers, but we don’t report our routes or give away our secrets.”

  The watchman remained suspicious, and his voice took on a deadly edge. “If you’re going to Ishara, you’ll be sorry. They’re not to be trusted. They’ll steal from you, kill you.”

  “We’ve never had trouble,” Hale said. “Our trading partners know they have to treat us fairly.”

  Osler’s expression grew even more threatening, which sent a chill down Hale’s spine. “You could be carrying weapons for Ishara. Maybe I should confiscate your cargo to make certain it doesn’t fall into enemy hands.”

  Hale fixed him with a hard gaze. “You wouldn’t want to do that. Utauks are neutral and always have been. The war has been over for decades, and I doubt Konag Conndur would want you to start a new one.”

  “Maybe the Isharans will start a new one,” said Osler. “We suspect that the empra is making plans for a full invasion of the Osterran coast, after Mirrabay. We captured part of their underhanded navy, ships that ventured too close to Fulcor Island, disguised as fishing boats. It was an act of aggression.”

  “You mean those boats we saw tied up to the piers below?”

  “We capt
ured one just yesterday, two others in the past month. The Isharans are growing bolder, much more dangerous.”

  Hale had seen Isharan warships before and knew full well that these boats were of a different design. “They look more like civilian ships. Fishermen, perhaps.”

  Osler let out a laugh. “Just a clever ruse. They are spies. Our warships captured them and brought them here. After we interrogated the enemy aboard, they were sentenced and executed.” He straightened his shoulders, showing no hint of guilt. “Every one of the men and women refused to provide any information, so we threw them from the cliffs.”

  Hale forced himself not to shiver visibly. “If you got no information from them, isn’t it possible that they were just simple fishermen and their families?”

  Osler’s eyes stared toward the gray fortress wall, but seemed to see right through it. “Enemies are enemies.”

  Hale decided it would be unwise to argue and he felt suddenly anxious to leave Fulcor Island.

  42

  THE beginning is the end is the beginning.

  For the time being, Glik had been around enough people, had wrapped herself in the Utauk circle and reminded herself that she was just one thread among many in the great tapestry of her tribes. She was also a special thread, an orphan, possessing a vast Utauk family … and none. Since the loss of her ska, her thread had frayed.

  Inside the circle, and outside the circle.

  Ori had been her family, her partner, the link to her heart and to her world, and now all Glik had were powerful visions, nightmares, and driving forces that she couldn’t understand on her own. She needed another ska, her own ska. Through the heart link, they could control and interpret the shadowy dreams together.

  To do that, though, she had to go far away, by herself. As she often did.

  Shella din Orr had given her blessing, clucking a tongue in her mostly toothless mouth. “A girl your age should be playing with others, learning a trade, flirting with boys, finding romance.” The old woman cackled. “But you are a seeker. I’ve always known you were special.” She reached out with a gnarled finger to draw a circle around Glik’s heart. “When you explore the world, be sure you bring your information back to me.”