“Yes,” Nedi broke in. “Let’s discuss the Council. And I’m glad you’re doing better, Gerald,” she added as an afterthought.
“Thanks. So, what did you tell them?” Gerald asked. “When you asked for the parlay.”
Nedi grimaced. “As little as possible. I didn’t want them to know exactly what’s on this side of the border spells, or who put them up.”
“Don’t you think they’ll figure that out when we come out on dragon back tomorrow?” Gerald asked.
“It’s one thing for them to know once they’ve agreed to the parlay,” Nedi said. “But I didn’t want to give away any information beforehand.”
“All right. So what do they know?”
“I kept it all very vague,” Nedi repeated, “but I told them all of the missing royals are here and none of them have been harmed or will be harmed. The Council isn’t looking at all this as someone trying to change the system. They’re viewing it more as…well, an act of war. Only they don’t know who’s to blame. The kingdoms have been unified for so long, there’s no one obvious to point the finger at. There aren’t any real enemies on this continent, no one’s quibbling over borders or trade rights or any of that, and there haven’t been any signs of an invasion from overseas—and that’s not really the kind of thing you can miss.
“On the other hand, all of the marriages, and royal families joining with each other to create deeper bonds between specific kingdoms, has a lot to do with why there’s peace here and why, as a whole, everything runs fairly smoothly. So…an attack on that marriage system is an attack on the backbone of the Thousand Kingdoms.”
Gerald opened his mouth, but Erick kicked his good leg lightly under the table. “You don’t need to argue with us about it,” Erick reminded him. “But tomorrow, I’d go very heavy on the ‘mistreatment of the guardians’ angle and very light on the ‘I don’t want to marry’ angle. You’re not going to get very far if they can dismiss you as a spoiled prince having a tantrum.”
Nedi nodded. “We want to hit them with three main points: enslaving the guardians is wrong; the questing system is outdated, and we’ve already put together an alternative system that accomplishes all of the same things and has the same benefits without any of the drawbacks.”
“They’re not going to agree right away, of course,” Erick said. “But we have to convince them, at the very least, that we’re not trying to destroy the Thousand Kingdoms—and that we won’t inadvertently destroy them by doing this. The showcase is all ready to go. We’ve gotten a pretty enthusiastic response to it, too, from the royals, even the ones who had to be, um, persuaded to come along. And we’ve already got at least a dozen budding romances merely from having everyone in the same place for weeks. Besides, the dragons don’t think the Council can break through the border…but if they try to, that would be just the excuse some of the dragons need to start attacking them.”
“So,” Omar broke in, “that means if we can’t convince them we’re in the right, we could go ahead and carry out the showcase and ignore the Council entirely. If they can’t get in, they can’t stop us. And I don’t think I mind that much if the dragons chase them off.”
“Except we want this to become a permanent thing,” Erick reminded him. “We could go rogue for this year, sure, but what about the future? It would be back to the quests and the collars. We have to prove the benefits and that, at the very least, this method is worth a trial period. Besides…we only rescued the guardians who were currently assigned to towers. How many more are still out there in reserve with their collars still on? And what’s to keep the Council from enslaving more?”
That was a sobering thought. Gerald’s eyes were drawn automatically to the scars circling the dragon’s neck. They can’t do that again.
“All right. So we’ll parlay,” Gerald said. “I’m guessing you’ve already got safeguards planned to keep them from spelling us once we leave the border?”
“We signed a binding parchment guaranteeing the parlay would be completely free of violence or coercion, both physical and magical. The worst they can do is not listen to us, and then we’ll simply have to keep talking until they do.”
She frowned at Gerald. “So you better eat up and rest up. You’re not looking very imposing right now.”
“I’ll try to get sick on a more convenient schedule in the future,” Gerald said sourly. “And I think the dragon will be imposing enough for all of us.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
BUT THE NEXT morning he was no longer so sure of that. It wasn’t that the dragon looked any less imposing than usual; it in fact looked quite intimidating. It had taken great care with its grooming and all of its scales were spotless, its claws were polished, and its harness was clean and the piedlings had even traded out the brass rings and linkages for gold ones. It looked much more like royalty than Gerald did. The piedlings had taken liberties with his wardrobe as well, but the formal clothes didn’t suit him. He always felt awkward in them, and as a result, no matter how well they were tailored, they never seemed to sit right on his frame. His silver circlet weighed heavily on his head after so many weeks of not wearing it or even thinking about it, and he was horribly conscious of his leg. Calin had flatly forbidden him to even consider walking on it. He had yet to see his canes and he had a feeling he wasn’t going to see them for quite some time.
Omar, Erick, and Nedi were likewise primped and polished and outfitted formally. The piedlings had even found or made decorative sheaths for Omar’s knives, which Nedi ruled made them ornamental and therefore permitted, although Omar was strictly forbidden from drawing them, “and it would be better if you try not to even touch them.”
Nedi was completely in her element and Erick couldn’t stop smirking, pleased that all of his magical trickery was about to be recognized by the very people his spells had been causing so many problems for. Gerald thought they would present a much better picture if he stayed behind. Once again he felt like he was back in Andine, the odd one out, the gawky prince ruining the dignified royal tableau.
Omar nudged him. “It’s going to be fine,” he said quietly. “You’re going to be fine.”
“What are we going to do when we get there and they want us to dismount? I can’t imagine they’re going to want to parlay while we’re looming above them on dragon back. You three can stand there and talk to them. I can’t.”
“There will be a table,” Nedi broke in impatiently. “People don’t just stand around and negotiate!”
“Well, how am I going to get to the table?” Gerald persisted. “Calin won’t give me my canes, and I thought we were trying to hide my injury anyway. If they knew how I got it, that would be all they would need to say our plan is too dangerous to be sanctioned.”
“I will put you where you need to be,” the dragon said. “Do not worry about the details. The Council will be too busy looking at me to look at you too closely.”
“Now let’s go,” Nedi said impatiently. “It won’t do at all to be late.”
Gerald let Omar boost him up the dragon’s side, with Calin watching with a frown. He almost hoped the piedling would speak up and say he shouldn’t go, that it would tax him too much so soon after his fever. But she stayed quiet and then the dragon was launching off the ledge and taking them to the parlay with steady wingbeats.
They crossed the border some ways away from the Council encampment, too far for Gerald to see any detail, but the size of the camp was crystal clear even from a distance. He whistled softly and Omar glanced at him, and then followed his gaze toward the tents and people blanketing the ground.
“That’s right,” Omar said thoughtfully. “You didn’t see it when we flew in.”
“How many of them are going to be at the parlay?”
He thought he had kept his tone admirably steady, but Nedi seemed to find the question ridiculous nevertheless. “Four,” she said. “The same as us.”
“Four Council members,” Erick corrected. “They wanted to bring a secr
etary or aide-de-camp or some such thing as well. We said all right, so long as they weren’t a magician.”
At least we won’t be outnumbered. He almost smiled then, realizing if something went terribly wrong and the supposedly binding agreement against harm was broken, they were the ones with the advantage in a fight. Several thousand pounds of fire-breathing advantage. But then he glanced once again at the scars on the dragon’s neck and his budding smile died before it touched his lips. This wasn’t the time for humor.
The parlay site came into view almost immediately. For the Council members, it would be a half-hour horseback ride; for the dragon, it was mere minutes away. The site was already prepared, with a large, rectangular wooden table surrounded by sturdy matching chairs sitting clearly visible on a flat outcropping. Gerald noted there was plenty of space for the dragon to land and the outcropping had an unobstructed view of the surrounding area in every direction. There’s nowhere to set an ambush, no way for anyone to sneak up on us. He pushed aside the thought that of course there was a way—magic.
There was no sign of the Council delegation at the site or approaching it. The dragon circled the table, reducing its altitude but not yet dropping down to land.
“Where are they?” Gerald asked.
“They’ll want to make a show of their entrance, too,” Nedi said calmly. Then, to the dragon, “Go ahead and land. Let’s force their hand.”
The dragon flew two more slow circuits before folding its wings in and landing as instructed. As soon as it touched the ground, a blinding pulse of white light erupted in front of them.
Gerald squeezed his eyes shut against the painful brightness and bit his tongue to keep from yelping in surprise. It’s just light, it’s just light, it’s not hurting us. He reflexively tightened his grip on the dragon’s harness nevertheless. Next to him, he heard the sound of Omar drawing a knife, and behind him, he heard Nedi say, “Erick—” in a too-controlled tone of voice.
Then everything was drowned out by the dragon’s roar. It was like thunder, if thunder were sentient and furious and right next to his head.
And the light faded away, leaving blotches in Gerald’s vision when he cautiously opened his eyes. The Council representatives were there now and he realized the light must have been a byproduct of a teleportation spell. Of course they wouldn’t want to show up dusty or tired from walking or riding. And Nedi did say they would want to make an entrance. The spell must have been preset, triggered by their party reaching the parlay site.
Gerald noted with satisfaction they didn’t look nearly as calm or as dignified as they had no doubt hoped. The dragon’s roar had left them somewhat disheveled, as if they had just walked through a windstorm.
“I thought we said there would be no magic,” Nedi said stiffly while the Council tried to regain their equilibrium.
There were three men and a woman, all middle-aged, and a younger man clutching a sheaf of papers and looking at the dragon with saucer-sized eyes. The four Council members were dressed identically, in gray trousers, navy blue tunics, and tall black boots, with their cloaks of office—woven from magician’s wool, which was all colors and no color at once, a shimmery light show—fastened with silver cloak-pins. The pins were the one thing that set their outfits apart—each one was a personal symbol, like a royal crest, and would, if one were familiar with the symbolism, identify each individual by their country of origin, school of magic, and rank within the Council. To Gerald, they were merely ornamentation.
“No harmful magic,” the woman corrected. She had lost a handful of hairpins to the dragon’s roar and several of her braids had come undone. “We did no harm. It was a simple transportation spell.”
“With a rather nasty—and completely unnecessary—light show built in,” Erick said sourly. “You could easily have transported here without the bells and whistles.”
“Says the young man sitting on a dragon,” one of the men snapped. His blue eyes were icy. “I daresay you can hardly accuse us of showmanship when you pull a stunt like that.”
“I am not a stunt,” the dragon said, a growl in its voice. The secretary gulped and clutched his papers closer to his chest.
Nedi cleared her throat loudly. “How we got here is not the issue. Why we are here is. Shall we stop with the posturing and take our seats?”
The Councilwoman gave Nedi a small, approving smile. “Quite right.” She turned and strode toward the table, and her daring in turning her back to the dragon galvanized her companions into action. The secretary sidled after them sideways, like a crab.
“Now,” Omar said quietly in Gerald’s ear. “None of them are looking.”
The dragon folded its forelegs and sank into a crouch, and Omar helped Gerald down and to the table. It was only a few yards away, and Erick likewise took Nedi’s arm, so it didn’t stand out that Gerald was leaning on Omar’s arm. If they walked a bit slowly so Gerald could disguise his limp, no one seemed inclined to comment.
Once they were all seated and the secretary had taken out pen and ink, the Councilwoman nodded briskly. “Well,” she said. “I suppose we should start with introductions. I daresay you are not quite what we were expecting.”
“What were you expecting?” Gerald asked curiously. Nedi had been right to say there was no clear enemy, either within the Thousand Kingdoms or abroad, to lay the blame on if the Council thought the royals had been kidnapped; he wondered what explanation the Council had come up with among themselves.
But the Councilwoman simply smiled and proceeded to introduce herself and her colleagues as if Gerald hadn’t spoken. “I’m Arika, Speaker of the Council of Ten; this is Ivan, also of the Ten”—indicating the blue-eyed man to her right, who inclined his head gravely—“Pejman, of the Hundred”—the man to Arika’s left, darker than Ivan, with a neatly-trimmed beard, who smiled at them— “and Sosha, of the Ten,” she concluded with a nod at the one sitting to Pejman’s left, who bowed, his long black hair gathered into a neat tail hanging down his back.
The secretary, who still looked ill at ease, got no introduction.
“I’m Princess Nedi of Eria; this is Prince Gerald of Andine; Prince Omar of Yevin; and Prince Erick of Anadac.”
“Four of the missing royals,” Pejman observed, his eyes dancing in amusement.
“I assure you, we know exactly where we are,” Nedi replied. “And where the others are. None of us are missing. We are simply no longer being tracked.”
“To what purpose?” Ivan asked sourly. “I suppose your presence here leading the parlay means we can take it as writ that you were not taken and are not being held against your will. So I am quite interested to hear your explanation for willfully disrupting the system that keeps the peace in the Thousand Kingdoms.”
Nedi cast a meaningful look at Gerald and he cleared his throat. “The system is out of date and built on the very violence you claim it is meant to avoid,” he said carefully. “What good is peace when its foundations are soaked in blood?”
Ivan scoffed. “Such melodrama, young man.”
“The system depends on the guardians,” Gerald persisted. “Guardians that are enslaved by spells. Guardians that are treated abominably, that are mistreated, that are injured out of both negligence and malice.”
“Animals,” Ivan said, waving a hand dismissively.
“Oh?” Gerald said, his voice tight with anger. “Is that how you justify it? The dragon speaks, quite eloquently; it is intelligent; it does magic; it has thoughts and feelings and a life of its own. And yet it was captured and collared and used as a tool; silenced, bound, and separated from its own kind. The collar was not even replaced as it grew. It was left to dig into its scales, to fester and rot, leaving the dragon in constant pain and leaving it with a permanent scar.” The dragon leaned over and rested its chin on the table, forcing the Council to look at the discolored, knobby ring of deformed scales that circled its neck.
“You’re saying all of that is all right because it is an animal? I would no
t treat the scrawniest stewing chicken the way the Council has treated the dragon.”
“I did not deserve this,” the dragon said, not angrily, but flatly, a simple statement of fact. Gerald thought that cold tone was more intimidating than its anger would have been.
“It’s not only the dragon, either,” Gerald said. All four Council members were staring at the dragon’s scars and Pejman’s tawny cheeks had gone pale. Even Ivan didn’t seem inclined to interject again. “Every guardian we saw—and that was every single one currently bound to a tower—was mistreated. Those with voices were silenced. Those with magic had it bound out of their reach. Those with partners or offspring were separated from them. Most had similar wounds from ill-fitting collars. Even the ones not harmed by neglect were there for the express purpose of being harmed by the rescuers—and they could barely even defend themselves with all of the restrictions imposed on them,” he said, remembering the amarok, the great white wolf, its fur stained with blood.
“We can’t have the rescuers harmed,” Ivan said, finding his voice.
“But we can have the guardians harmed?” Gerald retorted. “Look, you said it yourself, the Thousand Kingdoms are at peace. Do we really need to train our royals as warriors? Do these quests really need to be stained with blood?” Ivan opened his mouth, but Gerald pressed on, speaking over him. “The point of these quests is to pair up the royals, isn’t that right? To form marriages and alliances.”
“Correct,” Arika allowed.
“There are better ways to do so. And we have found one. That’s what we’re doing here, that’s what all of the royals are doing here. Finding a better way.”
There was a moment of silence after Gerald’s proclamation and he laced his fingers together under the table to keep his hands from shaking. The dragon withdrew its head—the wood of the table creaking and groaning as it was freed from its weight—and the Council and the royals were once again facing each other with their view unimpeded.
“This system has been in place for decades. Centuries,” Sosha said, speaking for the first time. “It has worked for all that time.”
Royal Rescue Page 28