Kingmaker (The Dragon Corsairs)

by Margaret Weis

  “Nothing is going to happen to you,” said Amelia. “And if it does, you will have Dalgren to deal with it.”

  “The theory being that if we can’t escape it, he can set fire to it,” Kate said, laughing.

  “Not exactly what I had in mind, but that would do in a pinch,” said Amelia. “My one worry is that His Majesty will be expecting Sir Henry, not two servants.”

  “Trust me, Miss Amelia, Thomas won’t be at all disappointed to find Kate instead,” said Sophia.

  Kate picked up the basket, and the two women hurried out to the cab. They were early, for they did not plan to meet Thomas until after one of the clock, but they needed to reach Dalgren’s cave while they still had daylight, in order to avoid his traps.

  Amelia waved good-bye from her door. The last sounds Kate and Sophia heard as their cab drove away were Bandit’s dismal howls.

  “He does not like being left behind,” said Sophia. “I hope he will not misbehave and do something naughty. The last time I left him alone he ate one of my shoes. Do you think we remembered to pack everything?”

  “If we didn’t, it’s too late now,” Kate said, adding somberly, “We have told Thomas we are coming. He has faith in us.”

  “I wish Phillip knew we were coming,” said Sophia, sighing. “He must feel so hopeless and despairing.”

  “He will be filled with hope soon,” said Kate.

  Sophia smiled, but her smile turned into a sigh. She clasped her hands together to stop them from shaking, and huddled into her cloak. “I know I shouldn’t say this, but I’m a little frightened. I am glad you are with me, Kate. You are so bold and not afraid of anything.”

  Kate shook her head. “I’m more than a little frightened. I’m a lot frightened. If we are caught sneaking into the palace, Sophia, they will think we are assassins and they will hang us. Not even Thomas would be able to save us.”

  “Nothing will go wrong,” said Sophia. “Our plan is a good one. It will work.”

  “It has to,” said Kate.

  * * *

  The cab driver dropped them off on the outskirts of the city not far from the harbor, close to the coastline. From there, they walked to Dalgren’s cave. They managed to avoid the traps and arrived just as the sun was setting. Dalgren was waiting for them, and he greeted Sophia with respect and courtly courtesy.

  “I have been telling Sophia that riding a dragon is much like riding a horse,” Kate told him.

  “It is not!” Dalgren objected, indignant. “I am nothing like a horse.”

  “Yes, you are,” said Kate, giving a meaningful glance at Sophia. “Especially for someone who has never ridden a dragon!”

  Dalgren coughed. “I was about to say, Your Highness, before Kate interrupted me, that riding a dragon is much safer and easier than riding horseback.”

  “I am certain you will take good care of me, Dalgren,” said Sophia.

  “You and I will sit on his back in this area, just in front of his shoulders between where the spines on his neck end and those on his back start,” Kate told Sophia. “I would ordinarily put my dragon saddle there and we would be securely strapped in. But I don’t have a saddle, which means we’re going to have to ride bareback. I’ve done it before and, while it isn’t very comfortable, it’s safe, so long as Dalgren doesn’t do any barrel rolls.”

  “He’s not likely to, is he?” Sophia asked, alarmed.

  “Of course not, Your Highness,” Dalgren said, snorting smoke at Kate.

  “I’ll sit in front and you’ll ride pillion,” Kate continued. “I’ll hold onto his mane and you’ll hold onto me.”

  “Will there be room on Dalgren’s back for Thomas and Phillip?” Sophia asked.

  “We will be snug,” Kate admitted. “But Dalgren says he can manage.”

  “This will be an adventure for me,” said Sophia, trying to sound brave. “Not even the countess has ridden a dragon.”

  Kate consulted the watch. “It’s only six of the clock. Now I know what we forgot to pack—food.”

  “I don’t think I could eat anything,” said Sophia.

  Kate didn’t think she could either, but she didn’t want to say so. They sat down to wait.

  Time passed so slowly that several times Kate thought the watch had stopped. Finally she had the satisfaction of shining the dark lantern on the watch and seeing the hands at eleven.

  Kate stood up. “We should leave. It’s early yet, but we need to watch for the patrol boat and I’m not sure where it will be. Dalgren can’t land until it has reached the end of its run and starts sailing back toward the palace.”

  She put on the griffin-rider helm and helped Sophia put on hers. Kate drew in a deep breath to calm her nerves. “Is everyone ready?”

  “Ready,” said Sophia, stoutly determined.

  “Ready,” said Dalgren.

  Kate rubbed his snout, climbed up on his foreclaw, and pulled herself up onto his back by grasping the lowest spine of his mane. She then reached down for Sophia, who scrambled up awkwardly onto Dalgren’s foreclaw and handed Kate the basket. She then gave Kate her hand and Kate hauled her up onto Dalgren’s back.

  Sophia took her seat a little breathlessly and put her arms around Kate’s waist. When she was settled, Kate wedged the basket between Dalgren’s shoulder blades and his spine.

  Kate cast a questioning glance over her shoulder.

  “Are you all right?”

  Sophia gave a tremulous nod and her grip on Kate tightened.

  “Here we go.”

  Kate patted Dalgren on his neck, giving him the signal that he could take off.

  Dalgren would have ordinarily made a long, loping run along the cliff, spreading his wings wide to catch the wind and then glide on the air currents. He did not have room to run, however. He had to spread his wings and leap off the side of the cliff.

  Kate felt her own stomach drop and she couldn’t imagine what Sophia must be feeling. She was clutching Kate so tightly Kate had a hard time drawing breath.

  Dalgren caught an updraft, and soared effortlessly into the Breath.

  “That was the worst part!” Kate shouted to Sophia.

  She didn’t know if Sophia heard her or not. Between the helmet and the rushing wind, she doubted it. But Sophia must be feeling more at ease, for she slightly loosened her grip.

  Dalgren silently glided over the slumbering city of Haever. He had flown out the night before to view the landing site, watch the patrol boat, and observe the movements of the palace guards. Dragons could see well at night, for they preferred to do their hunting after dark.

  The day had been clear, but the mists of the Breath rolled in with the setting sun. Sky and ground seemed to Kate to have switched places, for the sky above her was black, while the street lamps below glittered like orderly rows of stars.

  When the palace came into view, its magic-encrusted walls glimmering silvery white, Dalgren turned south, flying toward the stables. He flew low, watching for the broad boulevard known as King’s Way that ran in front of the palace and would let him know when he was near the wall.

  Kate glanced back at Sophia. She no longer sat rigid with fear, but was relaxed, gazing down at the breathtaking sight of a city at nighttime.

  Kate understood her fascination. One could see the same view from the windows of a yacht or a wyvern-drawn cab. But the experience of seeing the world unfolding beneath the wings of a dragon was different, more exhilarating and awe-inspiring, perhaps because riding on the back of a dragon was the closest humans would ever get to flying themselves. Kate could feel the ripple of Dalgren’s muscles, hear the creak of his wings. She was one with the dragon, as though when he spread his wings, she spread hers.

  As the boulevard came into sight, Kate gave Dalgren a pat on the neck and he nodded to indicate he had seen it. He soared over the wall about a mile south of the entrance. The grounds below appeared dark and deserted. Even if someone had been around, Kate doubted if they would have seen or heard the dragon silently glidi
ng above the treetops.

  Dalgren grunted and shifted his head to the right, his signal for Kate to look that direction. She could see the lights of the patrol boat coming into view. The boat had reached the southernmost point of the figure eight and would be turning back, probably sailing now over the field where Dalgren intended to land.

  The dragon rose slightly and flew farther south, allowing the patrol boat time to leave the area and sail northward until it reached the end of its route; then it would turn and head back to the south.

  Once the boat had flown past the field and was headed back toward the palace, Dalgren began his descent.

  Kate shouted, “Hold on!” and Sophia did as she was told, clasping her arms tightly around Kate.

  Dalgren raised his wings and plunged straight down toward the ground. As many times as he and Kate had performed such landings, she could still not find the courage to look down. She concentrated on watching the patrol boat to see any change in its routine that might denote the lookout had spotted them.

  Dalgren landed on his back legs first to absorb as much of the shock as possible before dropping down on his front legs. Kate hardly felt a jolt; she knew Dalgren had taken extra care because of Sophia.

  Safely on the ground, Dalgren lowered his head, folded his wings at his sides, and wrapped his tail round his legs to make himself as small as possible.

  Kate took off her helmet and turned to help Sophia remove hers. Sophia had to gulp in several deep breaths before she could speak.

  “Are you all right?” Kate asked worriedly.

  “Oh, Kate!” Sophia gasped. Her eyes shone. “I don’t know what to say. That was wonderful, marvelous, terrifying, awful, and exhilarating—all at the same time.”

  Kate smiled. “We will make a dragon rider of you yet. But now we have to hurry.”

  She nimbly climbed off Dalgren’s back and dropped down onto his leg, then grabbed the basket and helped Sophia dismount. Once they reached the ground, Kate took a moment to get her bearings and give Sophia a chance to catch her breath.

  Dalgren nudged Kate with a claw. “How did you like that landing? Gentle as a baby bird. I hope the princess wasn’t too shaken.”

  “She didn’t even know we were on the ground,” said Kate. “She thought she was still floating among the clouds.”

  “Truly?” Dalgren asked.

  “No.” Kate scoffed. “And why can’t you land like that when I’m on your back instead of smashing nose-first into the ground and rattling every tooth in my head? We’re setting out now. Watch for my signal.”

  Dalgren grinned at her. Small flames flickered from his jaws. “You watch for mine!”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  The afternoon of the mission to free Phillip, Thomas made the uncharacteristic move of seeking out Smythe instead of actively avoiding him. He found the chancellor in his office with his aide-de-camp, studying a large map of the Aligoes. He had stuck a pin in the city of Wellinsport and surrounded the island with other pins, presumably representing the Rosian navy.

  “According to King Ullr—” Smythe was saying as Thomas entered.

  The aide caught sight of him and said in a loud whisper to Smythe, “Sir! The king!”

  Smythe turned from his task with an impatient scowl.

  “How may I serve Your Majesty?” he asked.

  “You may serve me by attending a dinner engagement tonight,” said Thomas. He indicated two letters he was holding. “I have invited the Reverend Jeddah Blackthorn and the Reverend Elijah Byrd. We need the support of the Reformed Church and I understand that these two reverend gentlemen hold great influence with their flock. Since you are a follower of that religion, it seems logical that you should be the one to entertain them.”

  Smythe stared at him in slack-jawed disbelief. The man seemed utterly confounded to the point of being rendered speechless.

  Thomas held out the two letters. “I am sorry I did not consult you sooner, but the gentlemen only just sent word that they would be available tonight, after services. I have made arrangements for dinner to be served at ten of the clock. The hour is late, but I wanted to accommodate you, as well as the reverend gentlemen, for I know they hold services until nine and that you are generally in attendance. I have informed them that you will be hosting them.”

  He handed over the two letters of acceptance. Smythe took them and gazed at them in awe.

  “I have studied the words of these gentlemen since I was a child,” he said, sounding dazed. “My father taught me to read using the writings of Reverend Byrd.”

  Smythe was red in the face, his hand trembling. He swallowed and replied in a voice husky with emotion, “I … I do not know what to say, Your Majesty.”

  Thomas was surprised to see Smythe so genuinely touched and deeply affected. He wondered, not for the first time, how Smythe managed to reconcile his seemingly deeply held spiritual beliefs with the ability to brutally murder those who threatened his ambition.

  “Dinner will be served in the Small Dining Room, a more intimate setting than the Grand Dining Room that will allow you and your guests to talk without interruption. I have invited both gentlemen to spend the night in guest rooms in the palace. I trust you will see to their accommodations.”

  “Certainly, Your Majesty,” said Smythe. He swallowed, then added, “Thank you, sir.”

  Thomas walked away, pleased with his success. Smythe would be busy the remainder of the day arranging for the servants to open guest chambers and air them out, wash the linens, clean and dust, consult with the cook and the steward and insist that they serve ale, not wine. With dinner served late, Thomas felt confident that the theological discussions would last into the morning hours.

  Bolstered by Smythe’s emotional reaction to the prospect of meeting his spiritual idols, Thomas was reasonably certain that he had disposed of the chancellor for the night.

  Thomas changed into his evening attire. He had arranged to dine with his finance minister and the chancellor of the exchequer in order to keep up appearances, though when he returned from his dinner at the hour of eleven of the clock he realized he had no recollection of a word they had spoken. He trusted he had not agreed to anything too outrageous.

  The instructions in the Gazette had told him to wear evening attire as though attending a late-night party, so he did not change for the mission. Since he was going out, he added his tricorn, a silk-lined cloak, and silken scarf to his attire.

  To conceal his absence, he took several bolsters and arranged them in the shape of his slumbering form, then covered them with the sheets. He placed his nightcap over the end and drew a heavy down-stuffed satin duvet over his “head” until only the tip of the nightcap remained visible, and closed the bed curtains.

  As he finished this operation, he heard the clock strike thirty minutes past the hour of midnight. Anxious to be prompt for his meeting, Thomas quickly secreted a dark lantern beneath his cloak, slid two small pistols into his pockets, and left the palace by the “family” door, heading for the garden and the sundial where he was to meet Sir Henry.

  Thomas was early, but he preferred walking outdoors to restlessly pacing his room watching the hands of the clock slowly crawl toward the hour of one.

  He located the sundial and sat down on a cold stone bench. Gazing about, he reflected that a garden in winter was as somber and mournful as a graveyard.

  The palace was some distance away, the magical walls shimmering with an eerie white light. People thought it beautiful and perhaps it was, but tonight Thomas thought it looked spectral, ominous. Near the frozen fish ponds, the shrubs and fir trees, wrapped in burlap, were ghostly shapes in the night. The ornamental wrought-iron fence against the glowing backdrop of the palace walls resembled prison bars. The thought made him shudder.

  Thomas could not sit still. He took out his watch, noted the time, shook his watch in irritation and held it to his ear to make certain it was ticking. He occupied his mind by studying Offdom Tower, or at least what he could see of
it from the garden.

  The square, squat tower stood by itself, detached and dark and foreboding. Thomas could see a single light shining in a window in the guardroom at the top. The guards kept a light burning all night. No light burned in the window in Phillip’s cell.

  He was probably trying to sleep, for only in sleep could he forget for a few hours that he was a prisoner. And even then, only if he did not dream of being locked inside four walls.

  “Not long, my friend,” Thomas promised softly. “Not long.”

  He again looked at his watch. The hands had actually moved, nearing the hour of one. He should start watching for Dalgren.

  Thomas did not know where the dragon was going to land, but he could guess it would be in the open field near the stables. He searched the sky, staring into the mist-shrouded darkness. He listened intently, hoping to hear him if he could not see him.

  What he heard was the faint whirring of airscrews. The patrol boat was sailing almost directly overhead. Thomas did not think those in the boat could see him through the mists, but he took no chances and hid among the shrubs. The boat continued on its way, reached the end of its run, and turned back toward the palace.

  Thomas looked up to catch a fleeting glimpse of a dark winged shape drop down through the mists and disappear behind the garden wall. He quickly walked back to the sundial, trying to calculate how long it would take for Sir Henry to dismount from the dragon, enter the gate at the far end of the garden, and make his way toward the sundial.

  Thomas waited what he considered a reasonable time, but when Wallace did not come, he began to wonder uneasily if something had gone wrong. He rose to his feet, hoping to locate Dalgren, but the dragon had utterly disappeared in the thick darkness.

  Thomas grew increasingly worried, and then he heard movement in the darkness and saw the quick flash of a beam of light shine from a dark lantern. He could tell by the sounds that more than one person was out there. Fearing the plot had been discovered, he slipped back into the shrubbery and saw two figures, hooded and cloaked, approaching the sundial. Oddly, one was carrying what appeared to be a picnic basket. The two stopped near the sundial and took off the helms they were wearing.