Dragonbards

by Murphy, Shirley Rousseau

  “We don’t know,” said Afeena.

  “No one has seen it,” said Neeno. “It is locked in a cave in the old quarry.” The little gray owl sat rigid. “Quazelzeg’s soldiers have sealed the entrance with boulders. They feed the monster through a hole at the bottom. Oooo, its smell is so vile that even the winged jackals will not go near—though the guard lizards do; they are drawn to the stink. We can hear the monster through the wall of boulders, scrabbling at the stone.”

  “We can hear it breathe,” said Afeena. “We can hear its screams when it feeds. In another cave, behind iron doors, they raise the food for it.”

  “What is the food?” Teb said.

  “They raise rats for it,” said Afeena. “Thousands and thousands of huge rats, each as big as six of us. They chase them into barrels and roll the barrels to the creature’s cave door. They pull only one stone away, and chase the rats through by banging on the barrel.”

  “Ooo-ooo, it must be immense,” said Neeno, “the number of barrels full of rats it eats.”

  “When do they feed it?” Kiri asked.

  “In the morning,” Neeno said. “At first light.” The tiny owl walked around Kiri’s tea mug and flew to perch on her shoulder. When Elmmira, sitting close to Kiri, lifted her nose to the owl, he rubbed his beak against the tan cat’s whiskers.

  “Where is the quarry?” Teb said.

  Garit took a clay pot from a shelf and poured fine white sand onto the hearth for mapmaking. With a dulled arrow from his quiver, he began to draw the coastline of Aquervell, the city and harbor, the palace north, the old quarry beyond. North of that lay a newer, open quarry, below the mountain where the big flanged lizards lived. At the foot of the mountain was the cave of the monster.

  Neeno said, “The monster’s cave is perhaps a mile north of the palace. The slave children are caged in the palace courtyard. They are kept mind-dulled with cadacus.”

  Teb nodded. “And it is with cadacus that we will free them.”

  The owls’ eyes widened.

  “We will drug the monster,” Teb said, “and drug the winged jackals that guard the palace.”

  “And how will you avoid Quazelzeg’s soldiers?” Garit said.

  “Let’s hope the human ones are sufficiently drugged on their own—and hope all of them are in the middle of their orgies. How many slave children are there?”

  “Maybe thirty,” said Neeno. “Ooo, maybe more.”

  “We’ll help any way we can,” Garit said. “We have plenty of cadacus from King Sardira’s stores. We can work it into raw meat for the jackals.”

  “Well need a barge,” Teb said, “to get the children away. The dragons can’t carry so many.”

  “We’ll have a barge,” Garit said, “when and where you say. And wagons to meet it.”

  “Off the tip of Aquervell. From the night we leave until . . . until we meet you.”

  “How will we drug the monster?” Kiri said.

  “We’ll drug the rats they feed it,” said Teb. “They should like cadacus cakes.”

  Garit woke three of the ladies who helped in the palace kitchen. They came out yawning, to set about making a paste from flour and water, well laced with the white drug. They spread this out on boards to dry, while the bards prepared drugged meat for the jackals. The next morning, the drugged wafers were cut into squares and packed into two leather bags. It was dawn when they were finished. Musty old clothes had been found for all of them. The owls said the winged jackals sniffed everyone, and that was the smell they were used to.

  Neeno chose four owls to fly with him and Afeena, to serve as messengers. The bards could not rely on silent speech, so close to the dark powers.

  “The stone gate that closes the palace courtyard is locked at night,” Afeena said. “The lock is made of stone. Quazelzeg sleeps with the key on a chain around his throat. The key to the children’s cage and their chains hangs somewhere in the palace, perhaps the scullery.”

  The bards meant to leave Dacia just at dark, to come down over Aquervell late enough so Quazelzeg and his captains would have turned their thoughts to their evening’s entertainment. They made two plans, both depending on Neeno and Afeena. If the two bard children were in the outdoor cage, the dragons had only to melt the bars. They would be out of Aquervell within an hour.

  If the bard children were not there, the owls would slip into the palace beneath a loose shutter and steal the key, and Marshy would be locked in, chained among the slaves with the key in his pocket. He would wait there until the bard children were returned, then release them. If they were not returned, the plan grew more difficult.

  “How do we know there will be extra chains?” Kiri said.

  “There are always extra chains,” Neeno said. “Many children die there.”

  As we could die, Kiri thought. She could see the worry in Gram’s eyes, but Gram always smiled brightest when she was concerned. The great cats were very quiet as they rubbed against them in a gentle farewell. The cats would leave at dark for Nightpool, to join the other speaking animals in the raid on Sivich.

  Garit said, “You promised me once, Tebriel, that I would be with you when you took Auric Palace.”

  “But I won’t be there, either.” Teb cuffed Garit’s shoulder. “I’ll make it up to you. You’ll be back in Auric one day, training colts and youngsters there.” He hoped nothing happened to Garit, waiting on that lonely barge.

  When the bards loaded their bundles onto the dragons’ harness, both Seastrider and Windcaller complained that they felt like pack horses. Iceflower and Marshy remained silent. They carried no extra weight, only six small owls who, all together, couldn’t weigh a full pound.

  The dragons rose into the evening sky, the owls clinging to Marshy’s shoulders, their feathers blown back. They stared up with awe at the dragon’s huge, beating wings.

  A thin moon was beginning to rise; the sky was not yet dark. Before long they could see Aquervell, a wide black smear of land spreading across the pale sea. The wind grew cold. The little owls huddled down inside Marshy’s tunic. By the time they reached Aquervell’s coast, the sky felt like ice. The harbor lay below, dimly lighted. When we leave Aquervell, Teb said, we’ll burn the ships, to keep them from following us. Beyond the harbor, Quazelzeg’s castle rose into the night sky, lit by torches set along the high wall.

  Pray that the children are in the cage, Teb said.

  I am praying. As they circled, Kiri looked down at the slave cages and the little heaps of blackness huddled inside. The jackals stared up at them from the courtyard and the wall, their wings spread for attack. Teb undid a bag of the drugged meat. As Seastrider dove, he dropped the pieces into the courtyard. The moment the jackals smelled it, they began snarling and fighting over it, their inky shapes thrashing among the shadows. When two jackals flew up at Seastrider, she spit flame at them. They dropped back, but others came. Teb knocked them away. He didn’t want to use his sword, and have them dead or wounded for Quazelzeg to see. One grabbed his arm and hung on. He hit it in the face, then pulled its jaws open. It fought him, twisting in the air. He freed his arm and threw the beast down to the pavement, clenching his teeth with the pain of the bite. The owls hissed and dove around him.

  “The drug is beginning to work,” Afeena said. “They are beginning to stagger.”

  “Did you find the bard children in the cage?” Teb said.

  “No,” Neeno said. “We did not.”

  “Look again. The boy has red hair, the girl is dark.”

  “Yes, Tebriel. You told us.” They dove away, but returned shaking their heads. “We do not think they are there.”

  Seastrider dove. Teb slipped from her back to the wall, slung his rope over the spikes, and dropped down to the courtyard. In deep shadow, he moved along the cage, looking in. He didn’t want to whisper—children trained to drugs could not be trusted. He searched the cage for some time. He could see the children well enough in the torchlight to know the owls were right. The two bards were not
there.

  Were they in the cellars? He could slip into the palace. There was not a stir of life, no human guard. It would be easy.

  Yes, and foolish, Seastrider said. Your anger must not make you foolish.

  She was right. A foolish risk, with too much at stake. But he burned to go, burned for action, burned with hatred of the dark. He went along the cage again, then swung to Seastrider’s back as she lifted straight up with a powerful sweep of wings, to join the others.

  Kiri knew Teb’s hand was hurting where the jackal had torn it; she could feel the pain making him irritable. She was seared by his impatience that the children weren’t in the cage, and by his terrible hatred of the dark. It frightened her to see him so angry—that kind of hatred could lead him into some fatal mistake. And the plan they must now use would put Teb and Marshy alone, among the soldiers of the unliving.

  Chapter 14

  In the palaces of the dark, the unliving replenish their powers by torturing their captives. They sustain themselves by breaking the human spirit—oh, I pray to the Graven Light for my children. The unliving must be driven from Tirror.

  *

  The little owls darted through the moonlight, leading the dragons over a deep, shadowed chasm. Ahead rose the mountain, its rocky face pale in the moon’s glow and alive with giant lizards oozing over its ledges. Lizards were crowded at the foot of the mountain, too, around the wall of mortared stone that sealed the monster’s cave. When the dragons dove at them, spitting flame, the lizards fled.

  The dragons settled before the mortared wall, and the bards slid down and stood looking. The stink of the monster was like rotten meat. The door at the bottom was just large enough to herd a few rats through. Next to the wall was the cave where the rats were kept—the bards could hear them squeaking and fighting behind the iron door. Two dozen wooden barrels stood waiting to be filled.

  “How do they get the monster out?” Kiri said.

  Teb examined the wall. “Maybe there’s another way, back in the caves.”

  “Whatever that creature is,” Seastrider said, “it is certainly no dragon. No dragon ever smelled like that.”

  The bards unstrapped the bundles of cadacus wafers from the dragons’ harness and began to empty them into the barrels. They sprinkled handfuls of dirt on top, so the wafers wouldn’t be seen. The rats would stir them up, seeking the smell of food. As the bards filled the barrels, they could hear stirrings behind the monster’s wall, as if the creature was snuffling and scraping along the stone. Suddenly it began to scream. The dragons leaped at the wall, belching flame.

  “Get back,” Teb shouted. “Do you want to free that thing?” He tried to imagine the shape of the creature, but it touched his thoughts only as writhing darkness. “Come on. Before we all throw up.”

  Marshy, Kiri, and Teb mounted up, and the dragons leaped skyward, sucking in fresh air.

  They circled the highest peak and found a lizard cave. When the giant lizards attacked, the dragons killed them. For over an hour they battled the creatures, pushing the bodies down the mountain into the ravine. The bards swept lizard dung and trash from the cave and laid out their gear. Two pairs of owls went to steal the key to the slave cage and to search for the bard children. Kiri cleaned Teb’s arm where the jackal had bitten it; then she put on salve and bound it.

  The owls were gone perhaps an hour; then Theeka and her mate swept in on the wind, to drop onto Teb’s arm.

  “What happened?” Teb said. “Where are Neeno and Afeena?”

  “Ooo, on the wall, Tebriel,” Theeka said. “Waiting for you. They have the key to the slave cage. It was not in the larder, ooo-ooo, but deep inside the palace, beside the door to Quazelzeg’s chambers. Ooo, what a tangled warren of halls.”

  “Did you find the children?”

  “We could hear children,” Theeka said. “There were lights in a cellar. Ooo, we heard ugly laughing, and a child screamed. We tried to get in, but there was not a hole big enough. We could see the children through a crack. We could not see the bard children. You will have to use the other plan.”

  Kiri glanced at Marshy.

  Teb laid a hand on the little boy’s shoulder. “You can change your mind. No one would think the less of you.”

  “It will be best if I go right away,” Marshy said. “I’m ready—old clothes, musty smell, and all.” The little boy squeezed Kiri’s hand and climbed onto Iceflower’s back.

  Teb put on the hooded cloak Garit had given him, like those worn by Quazelzeg disciples. He hugged Kiri and held her. “You have the rope and the rest of the drugged meat. Don’t leave here until the owls come for you. It could be a few hours, it could be tomorrow night.” He cupped her face in his hands. His look was deep and searching. “It will be all right, Kiri. Be careful . . . for me.” His eyes darkened, and he held her to him fiercely. “You . . . it will be all right.” He held her tight for a long moment, then turned away as if it were easier to leave her quickly. He leaped to Seastrider’s back, Theeka and Keetho swept up to his shoulders, and Seastrider beat up into the night with Iceflower close behind.

  Kiri watched dragon and dragonling lift above her and disappear beyond the mountain. She felt lost, torn away from Teb, and she was cold with fear for him. Windcaller stretched out before the cave entrance, watching her. The two owls who had stayed went inside the cave to grub after insects in the rough walls. Kiri stood staring at the empty sky for a long time, trying to be with Teb in her mind. But her vision was stifled by the closeness of the dark. She strained for any sound, and heard nothing. At last she turned back into the cave, drank some water, and lay down with her head on her pack. But her stomach felt empty with terror. Very soon Teb and Marshy would be alone within the walls of the unliving. Windcaller said, “You were not afraid all those years you spied for Dacia.”

  “Yes, I was. You didn’t know me then. I was afraid for myself, and for Papa.”

  “Oh,” Windcaller said. “But you did your job anyway.” She gave Kiri a stern look. “Your fear cannot help Tebriel and Marshy. Only your strength and your cleverness can. You must rest and be ready.”

  Kiri scowled at Windcaller and closed her eyes, knowing she couldn’t rest.

  *

  As Seastrider and Iceflower circled above the palace, the only movement in the courtyard was the shadows thrown by the torches, leaping across the still bodies of the jackals. The dragons dropped to the wall, left Teb and Marshy there, and banked away toward the mountain, out of sight.

  Teb looped his rope over a spike and went down, his hand never far from his sword. Marshy swung down close behind. They moved toward the slave cage, skirting the drugged jackals. Inside the cage, the children were a dark mass of sleeping bodies huddled close together. Neeno swooped down from the top of the cage and laid the key in Teb’s hand. Teb unlocked the gate, and they slipped in, to search, staring into sleeping faces.

  They searched for a long time. The two bard children were not there. A dozen chains hung empty. Marshy chose one, and they tried the key to make sure. Yes, the same key unlocked both gate and chains. Marshy locked the steel cuff around his ankle. Teb left him, locked the gate behind him, and passed the key in to Marshy. Marshy hung it on a cord around his neck, underneath his clothes, and settled down in a position of sleep. If he didn’t use the key, if they were still there at dawn, Afeena would return the key to the palace before the dark soldiers woke.

  Teb followed Afeena’s faint flutter as she led him to the outbuilding she had chosen. There, she dropped to his shoulder, to speak softly.

  “Neeno and I will be on the roof above you. We will wake you if they bring the children back, or . . . if there is need.”

  Teb ducked inside and settled down against some barrels, listening for the first stirrings of the jackals. He had an ugly picture in his mind, of a jackal flying up to snatch a little owl from roof or wall. He had not dared drug the creatures enough to leave them asleep when Quazelzeg’s soldiers came out at dawn. From his position in the shed
he could see part of the courtyard and the slave cage.

  He did not mean to sleep. He dreamed of Thakkur, and felt his love powerfully, and then his admonition, Take care, Tebriel—take care . . . He woke to a fluttering “Ooo-ooo” that jerked him from sleep with his hand on his sword.

  “Shh, Tebriel.” Afeena fluttered before him in the graying darkness. “They are coming to take the slaves to the fields. The two bard children were in the cellar! They are being brought up to the courtyard now.”

  “Did you return the key?” “I did.”

  Teb pulled his loose cloak over his sword, moved back among the tools, and knelt beside a wooden plow as if examining the blade. Soon there were footsteps behind him. He heard tools being taken up, men’s voices, then, from the yard, the clang of the metal slave gate. Chains rattled, and a voice barked, “Wake up, you filth. Get out of there, get in line.”

  When there was sufficient commotion in the toolshed, Teb rose, took up half a dozen hoes, and joined the other men. The sky was a flat, heavy gray. The guards were featureless black shadows within their hooded cloaks.

  The slave children were marched toward the fields, the limping ones slapped along by the guards. Teb could not see Marshy. The procession was flanked by growling jackals that had come awake irritable and snapping. As it grew lighter, Teb pretended to cuff the children, and he swore at them in a low, angry growl, mimicking the other guards.

  On their left lay fields of cadacus plants, waist high and heavy with pods. The sky was growing lighter. But the woods on his right were still thick with shadow. He saw Marshy ahead, stumbling along in a group of children. He searched for the boy with red hair and the dark-haired girl and watched among the trees for the owls. Jackals began to fight among themselves, biting children as well as each other. Suddenly four small shapes winged between the shadowed trees, and Teb felt easier. If he or Marshy was discovered, it would be only minutes until the owls alerted the dragons. He had no sense of the dragons’ voices in his mind, or of Kiri.