When he looked back a few minutes later, Oz was still following, openly and in comfort. Satisfied that Oz was taken care of, he turned to Ruskin. “What’s your problem with Oz?”
Ruskin kept his gaze on the road, his expression stony. “It’s only a four-hour ride, my lord; not enough time to list the problems I have with him.”
William glowered at his agent, losing patience. “How about you tell me the top two or three, and I’ll decide whether I want to hear the rest.”
Ruskin sighed and lowered his head. After a moment he looked at William and his face softened. “I apologize, sir. But something about him sets me off, and it’s made me forget myself. You’ve been more patient with me than you needed to be, and I thank you for that. But you’ve asked my opinion, and I must be honest with you or I’m not doing my job.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “Oz is a bum. He has been his whole life, and from what’s said, he had quite the role model for it. You have a kind heart, my lord, wanting to do well by a man who once mistreated you, but you risk your well-being and finances by bringing him into your home. And to such a post, sir—most butlers are in service for decades before they run a household, and raising him to such an exalted position is a mockery of the system.”
William smiled wryly. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Ruskin, I enjoy mocking the system.”
“It can use a touch of mockery, sir, but not like this. It’s a rebuke to anyone who’s been in service, and experienced people won’t work under a man who has no experience himself. That’s a problem, because you’ll need more staff soon, especially once you’re married.”
William frowned, more to himself than to Ruskin. “I know you have a vision of how my household should be run, but have you considered that I may have other ideas? I’m not crazy about having a bunch of people running around the place, people I barely know, doing things my mother raised me to do for myself.”
Ruskin shook his head. “Life changes when you change stations, my lord. Commoners don’t often become nobles, but when they do, those changes are inevitable. But your household isn’t my main concern with him.”
“Then what is?”
Ruskin hesitated. “He’s a drunkard’s son. I’ve known too many, and they all follow one of two paths. Either they reject their father’s behavior and become hard-working citizens, or they follow the father’s footsteps into a life of laziness and debauchery. It’s clear which road he has taken.”
“I don’t think it is,” said William. “Did you smell beer on his breath? Didn’t he ask for work, and promise he would learn the job?”
Ruskin shook his head. “If there’s one thing a drunk is good at, it’s making promises, sir. That, and stealing to feed their habit.”
“Well, I have little enough to steal,” said William. “Jack, you haven’t said anything for a while.”
“Why bother?” asked Jack with a touch of hurt in his voice. “That gash on your head may have healed, but the bump must have shaken your brains loose. Or maybe you’re trying to live up to those stories about you. But it’s your choice, and I hope you don’t end up regretting it. My dad taught me that it’s fine to feel sorry for someone, even help them if you can, but putting someone like Oz in a position of trust…I’m sorry Will, but that’s insane. And worse, you gave him Cora’s legendary bacon.”
“So neither of you believes he can change?” asked William. “That his life is somehow written for him before he’s had a chance to live it? That doesn’t give me much hope for myself, let alone the world.”
“A river can change course, my lord,” said Ruskin. “But it’s rare, unpredictable, and most often the result of forces too powerful to control. Mark my words, sir. I’ve seen it too many times to doubt it; this will end badly.”
Chapter 6
William rolled over in bed and groaned, ignoring the thumping from his bedroom door. He sighed as the knock on his bedroom door came again. A week had passed, and Oz still hadn’t learned William’s preferred waking time. “Give me another hour, Oz,” he shouted. He pulled the blanket over his head to block out the light seeping past the curtains, but had barely closed his eyes when the knocking repeated. Throwing the sheets off, he grumbled to himself. “Come in,” he yelled, knowing he had no other choice.
The door creaked open and Oz entered, looking both sheepish and frightened. “I’m sorry, sir. I know you said I shouldn’t wake you early, but there’s a d-dragon at the door asking for you.”
William bolted upright. “Really? A dragon? But it’s a week early.”
Oz’s eyes bugged out. “Uh…how often do they come here?”
“Every forty days,” said William. “They fly me to the hive to speak with their queen.”
“Wow!” said Oz with a look of awe. “You’ve flown on a dragon?”
“Well yes…it’s the only way to get there quickly. Is it a big dragon or a little one?”
Oz gulped. “I hope it’s a big one, sir, because it’s taller than me. I would have shown it to the waiting room like Ruskin told me to do with visitors, but…”
William chuckled. “No, probably best that you didn’t. The little ones are just messengers, no bigger than a pigeon. There’s always one around the barony in case I need to send her a message, but it stays hidden until I call for it. Anyway, you’d better set out my warmest clothes…it looks like I may be visiting the queen ahead of schedule.”
William dressed quickly in woolen pants and his thickest coat and bounded downstairs to greet the visitor. As expected, a silver drone was waiting for him on the front lawn, reflecting the morning sun in dazzling brilliance. “You’re early,” said William to the drone. “I wasn’t expecting one of you for several days.”
“William Whitehall,” said the drone by way of greeting. “My queen requests your presence at your earliest convenience.”
“I got that much from my butler,” said William. “Oz, stop hiding behind the door and come say hello. He’s perfectly safe.”
With great trepidation, Oz slid out from his hiding place, and stepped slowly toward them. “It’s so big…and shiny,” he said. “How can it fly if it’s so big and made of metal?”
William shrugged. “My friend Maya—she’s a scientist as well as a doctor—says they shouldn’t be able to. But that just means we don’t know how they do. Anyway, you’d better get used to seeing them.” He turned to the drone, who was waiting patiently. “Have we flown together before?”
“This is the first time I have been honored with this task. My hope is to earn a chance to mate with my queen.”
“Then we must name you. Oz, what shall we name our new friend?”
Oz turned to him, startled. “Why doesn’t he have a name already?”
“The dragons don’t name themselves. Not names as we understand it. I have trouble telling them apart—the drones anyway.” He turned back to the drone. “Well, since you’re looking for love, how about we name you Adonis?”
The dragon looked at William with an expression that looked like boredom. “Other drones have told me of this human need to name us,” said the drone. “If this name pleases you, then I am satisfied.”
William shrugged and grinned. “It seems better than calling you ‘number seventeen’ or something like that. Well, we mustn’t keep the queen waiting…let’s go.” The drone lowered its head and William climbed on, settling himself in front of the beast’s huge wings, grabbing its spiky spinal ridge for stability. Without warning, the dragon beat its wings, sending Oz jumping for cover. A powerful leap, and they were airborne. A quick glance showed William that they had already cleared the manor and were wheeling around to fly over the nearby trees. A moment later they were following the Faywater River east toward the mountains.
The rising sun offered little warmth, and the rush of wind did nothing to help. At least it wasn’t raining though, and the clear sky presented a better view than he was used to on his winter flights. He would choose a flight through cold, clear air over mist and rain
any day.
Below, the river shrunk to a silver ribbon that wound through farmland and forest, leading them past familiar places: the beaches near Rebel Falls where gold had once been discovered, long since panned out, the prospectors having moved far upstream in search of greater riches; the vast lumber yards where timber was cut and floated downstream to eager customers; the town itself, with its numerous buildings and fields; and finally, the giant falls for which the town was named.
The ground rose once they passed the large plume of mist, and the trees began to thin. They passed huge plots of land dedicated to flocks of sheep destined for trade with the dragons, red flags marking the corrals where the sheep were ready for slaughter. The fields had multiplied steadily since William and his friends first discovered the dragons, long ago surpassing the book trade they themselves had helped establish. William gazed with a little jealousy at the farms below; it seemed a much simpler arrangement than a barony, with fewer people to manage and easier profits—but much harder work.
Snow appeared in increasing amounts as they reached the foothills. The mountains themselves came into view, and William shivered as the air became even colder, tendrils of freezing wind sneaking through his warm clothes to tickle his skin.
Up they rose, matching the height of the nearest peak, and William spotted the landing area ahead. Well hidden from the lower ground, and inaccessible by foot, it represented the safest entry into the dragon hive. The drone approached the rocky plateau, snow billowing as its huge wings beat to slow their descent. After a soft landing, William slid from the drone’s neck, his joints creaking from three hours of freezing stillness. He patted the beast’s back. “Thank you, Adonis.”
He found the Ambassador waiting for him at the tunnel entrance, as always, his distinctive black and silver markings contrasting against the snow. “Any idea what this is about, Hermes?” asked William, using the name he had given him when they first met. “Every forty days until today. I hope nothing’s wrong.”
“Hello, William Whitehall,” answered the Ambassador. “The queen has a favor to ask of you.”
“Of me?” asked William. “What does she want? I’m not sure what I can do for her that others can’t do better.”
“I will let the queen ask you herself. Come with me.” William followed the Ambassador into the tunnel, and together they descended the long, winding path. The tunnels had been widened since he first found them, allowing for increased traffic of the huge, lumbering cargo dragons that carried ore from distant outreaches to the central smelting and crafting areas. They were better lit as well, the odd, nearly spherical lanterns set into the raw rock every thirty feet or so. William still hadn’t learned how they worked, and dragons had yet to agree to trade them, refusing to explain why.
The tunnels were cleaner, too. Once littered with debris, the dragons had somehow learned how to sweep the clutter away, including the occasional small gemstone that the dragons once considered garbage, at least until they realized humans would pay for them. How they swept the tunnels was a puzzle to William. Only a few dragons had hand-like appendages in place of wings, but as far as he could tell they were all allocated to crafting tasks. To put a broom in the hands of a crafting dragon would be a waste of skilled labor.
They passed the smelting room where huge dragons ingested rocks from the ore piles and hyperventilated until flames shot from their throats. William paused long enough for one to spit out a small, glowing ingot of metal.
A few twists and turns later, the Ambassador left him at the queen’s den, a small room snuggled at the bottom of the labyrinth of tunnels where she could best be defended against an enemy attack. Her radiant beauty robbed him of his breath, as it always did, no matter how many times they met. Of course, she was designed to do exactly that, to elicit awe from both her subjects and her visitors. But she was beyond mere beauty. Her scales, unlike the metallic ones of her brood, appeared crystalline, and without any apparent internal source of light seemed to emanate a clear, white glow from within, brighter than her surroundings. She seemed to light the room herself. The gold trim of her wing tips and delicate spine ridges only enhanced the effect.
William bowed to her; she bowed back, a ritual they’d developed together after many visits. It was not a requirement or protocol, but more of a private joke between them.
Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “It is good to see you, William my brother. Thank you for accepting my invitation.” Her voice was as clear and cool as the light that shone from her, with an almost musical quality that he found soothing.
“Hello, Padma my sister. You’ve never sent a drone outside of our arranged times,” said William. “I figured it must be urgent.”
“It may be,” answered the queen with a somber nod. “One of my offspring is causing a crisis of sorts. You will recall when we first met that I asked a favor of you.”
William’s hand instinctively sought the crook of his elbow. “When a dragon queen pierces my skin and withdraws blood and who knows what else, it’s hard to forget. We became family of a sort that day.”
Padma’s eyes sparkled again. “Your life-code has been added to our own, with good effect. In my last hatching, I included more of your life-code than before. With one exception, the results were similar.”
“And this lone exception?” asked William. “What happened?”
Padma hesitated. “This one hatchling fails to thrive. It has grown, but less than a common labor dragon should. Also, its scales do not match those of its brethren, nor has it learned our speech.”
“No tweets? No whistles or toots?”
She shook her head slowly. “None. It follows instructions, but never has it spoken. It is sickly and slow, and yet I sense a potential that I fear may not be realized.”
William scratched his head. “So, what are you going to do?”
“I am unaccustomed to rearing dragons with undefined roles. I have hatched new varieties of dragons before to answer new needs, and have done so in response to our trade with humans, but it is always deliberate and with known consequences. This is new to me. What do your people do with children who cannot thrive in their surroundings?”
He exhaled and relaxed. So that’s what she wanted—advice. He shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t know if I can help you with this, Padma. My people don’t have a good history of dealing with misfits, especially children. Most often they simply suffer as they are, while the lucky ones might be sent to a foster home with more resources.”
“A foster home?” asked Padma, her expression inquisitive. “Please explain.”
“A home of another family, or a distant relative. If a parent can’t care for their child, they might try to find someone willing to raise them as their own.” William paused as the truth sunk in, staring at her in disbelief. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? You knew all along about human foster homes, and you want me to foster this troubled child of yours.”
“You are a distant relative, are you not?”
William began pacing as he rubbed his forehead, willing his brain to devise a way to escape this request. “Well, yes—in a way, I suppose. But what do I know about raising dragons? I’m not set up for this, and I’m having enough trouble running my barony as it is. I’ve seen how dragons eat—I don’t have the money to feed a dragon, not of any size, and I don’t have time to hunt for it either. Besides, I only have a small amount of forest on my land, and I’d run out of game in no time flat.”
“We would compensate you for the expense,” said Padma. “Three dragon iron bars every ten days. This is more than we pay for a drone’s expenses, and I would add a small bonus for your kindness.”
William stopped pacing and stared at the ceiling as he worked the numbers. Then he looked at her in surprise—he would come out ahead, and by a large margin. Why such generosity?
Another thought crossed his mind. “How on Esper do I care for a dragon? I don’t know the first thing about it. I can’t devote all my time to it either
. I have a barony to run.”
Her sparkles dimmed as she shook her head slowly. “I am at a loss myself, William. This troubled child, as you call it, defies all my instincts to care for it. I can have the Ambassador instruct you, but I am relying more on your own wisdom in this matter than ours.”
William laughed. “I’ve never even raised a human child, Padma. What sort of wisdom do you suppose I have that you don’t? For that matter, I’m probably not even the best human for this task.”
“We’ve discussed this before, William. You think less of yourself than others do, especially me. I have read the books written about you. Are you not celebrated among your people? Remember that of all beings on this world, I selected you to add to our life-code, and with good reason. Only your misplaced humility has compelled me to doubt my decision.”
William rolled his eyes and smirked. “Misplaced humility…I wish Jack could hear this. He says I’ve lost my mind for rescuing an old enemy. Well, I’ve adopted one dependent; I may as well have another. I just hope word doesn’t get around, or I’ll have everyone pawning off their unwanted children on me.”
The sparkle returned to Padma’s eyes. “Once again, your generosity impresses me, brother. I look forward to hearing how my youngling fares under your care. I will have the Ambassador take you to it now.”
“It? Not him or her?”
“Worker dragons are sexless, William. Without the ability to breed, gender is irrelevant. But had its development continued along another path, it would have been male.”
The Ambassador returned and brought William through another series of tunnels. The path seemed familiar, and when they reached the end he was not surprised to recognize the massive cavern. “This is where you first brought us as prisoners, isn’t it?”
“I prefer to remember you as being our guests,” said the Ambassador.
“We weren’t free to leave though, were we?” said William with a wry smile.
The Ambassador refused to meet his gaze. “I didn’t say it wasn’t true, only that I would like to remember it differently. And here is the dragon who will be your guest.” The Ambassador indicated a small alcove. Inside the dimly-lit room lay a dragon, its dingy brownish-green scales rougher and shabbier than any other William had ever seen. Gaunt to the point of emaciation, it reminded him of a stray dog far beyond the capacity to fend for itself, ready to surrender to death—though it was twice the size of any dog. His heart sunk. The poor creature needed nursing, not just parenting, and William doubted he had the capacity for it. But left here, it would surely perish. Better to try and fail than give up. And he needed the money…
Skyrider of Renegade Point Page 6