“If he truly is dead,” said Patch.
“Enough of that!” said Barver. He sounded tired. “Tobias and Alia were certain of it. You’re just tormenting yourself! The bones of the dragon children must be found and destroyed. We go to Lord Drevis at once. Agreed?” He looked to Wren.
Agreed, she signed. Tiviscan it is, but I’ll have to be the one who goes to meet Drevis.
Patch heaved a sigh, and nodded. “True,” he said. “I’d probably be recognized and arrested before I could even see Drevis, and Barver would cause utter panic. How long do you think it’ll be before you can change into human form?”
Wren looked down at the circles in her fur, over half of them blue now. A couple more days, maybe.
“There is one more thing,” said Patch. “Alia warned me there would be a heavy price to pay for returning to Tiviscan. That might not just mean me. We could all be in danger. Are you both absolutely sure you want to do this?”
Wren stood proudly on her back legs and solemnly quoted Barver’s mother. You are all that stands against the End of the Skies! she signed. I think that has to be more important than our safety.
They landed well before dawn in forested hills over a mile away from Tiviscan, after two days of almost non-stop flight. Barver’s shoulders had started to cause him discomfort, but with the help of Duffle’s ointment he’d kept going.
During their journey, almost all of the bead-like markings on Wren’s fur had become blue again. It wouldn’t be long before she could change into human form; then she would set off to Tiviscan Castle and contact Lord Drevis.
In the meantime, they rested. Barver was exhausted, and fell asleep within minutes of landing. He was restless as he slept, muttering Genasha’s name often, and calling for his mother. Patch took his little tent from his bag and set it up for himself and Wren, and soon they were asleep too.
When Wren awoke, she roused Patch and showed him that her band of markings was completely blue. Patch sat up and stretched. He looked outside the tent, and reckoned it was mid-morning. They’d had three or four hours of sleep at the most, and could have done with far more, but they had a job to do.
Soon they were all up and ready. They looked at each other, wary of how important their task was.
“We should get on with it,” said Barver.
Wren nodded. Time to change! she signed. Back in a minute. She scampered off into the privacy of the trees. There was a blood-curdling shriek, and a few moments later Wren reappeared in human form, brushing down her clothes and looking somewhat flustered.
“Right,” she said. “So that still hurts.”
“How bad was it?” asked Patch.
“Like being turned inside out while somebody hits you with a mountain,” she said. “Here I go, then. Wait here for my return, hopefully with Lord Drevis by my side. Wish me luck!”
They muttered a reluctant farewell, and as she went they found it very hard not to follow.
Wren walked through the forest and joined the road to Tiviscan. She could see the Castle ahead; wooden scaffolds encased the lower walls and the cliff face, as the work to repair the damage from the dragon attack continued.
For mid-morning, the town seemed empty and subdued. When she reached the main Castle gate, there was almost nobody around, and it set her nerves on edge. The gate itself was shut, so she knocked at the guard door.
The wooden flap in the door opened, and a Piper in Custodian uniform looked out at her.
“Yes?” he said, sounding fed up. He looked Wren up and down. “What is it, young peasant?”
Wren glanced down at herself, and had to admit she was a bit grubby. “I’ll give you that one,” she muttered under her breath. “But don’t push your luck.”
“I didn’t quite catch that,” said the Custodian.
“I have an important message to deliver to Lord Drevis,” said Wren.
The Custodian frowned. He turned his head behind him. “Hey!” he called. “Dana! Get over here and listen to this!” He turned back to Wren, and she really didn’t appreciate the dismissive look on his face. Another Custodian joined him – a woman, looking just as dismissive as he did.
“What’s up, Klaus?” asked Dana.
Klaus smirked. “This…person wants to give Lord Drevis an important message.” The two Pipers looked at each other for a moment, then turned to Wren and burst into laughter.
Wren felt a nugget of anger building inside her. She glared at them. “I mean it,” she said. “It’s important.”
When the laughter faded, the woman sighed. “Lord Drevis is attending the Convocation, girl. He should be back here this evening. Who shall I say is asking after him?”
“My name is Wren Cobble,” she said. “What did you say he’s attending? A Convoc-what?”
The Pipers smirked, and Wren’s nugget of anger grew. “A Convocation, girl,” said Dana. “A gathering of the greatest Pipers in the lands!”
“Okay,” said Wren. “Can you just point out where the Convocation is happening, so I can go and find Lord Drevis?”
Klaus shook his head. “Honestly, child. Just get yourself off home. We don’t have time for games.”
“I warn you!” said Wren. “This is of the utmost importance!”
The smiles vanished. The Pipers both narrowed their eyes. “Listen, you insolent little pig,” said Dana. “Run along, if you know what’s good for you. Understand?” She shut the flap.
Wren seethed for a moment, then stepped forward and knocked repeatedly. This time, it wasn’t just the flap that opened – it was the whole guard door. Wren took a few wary steps back, as both Pipers came out. They didn’t seem at all friendly.
“That’s it,” said Dana. “You’re coming with us. A night in the cells will teach you to show respect to your betters.”
Wren let out a huge sigh. “You really did ask for this,” she said. In her right hand were half a dozen daisy chains. She calmly threw one at each Piper, as they watched her with bemused scorn.
She’d made several stops as she’d come through the forest, so that she could gather and prepare a selection of useful flowers and plants. Underath’s books had many complicated spells, far beyond her understanding, but she’d memorized a few humble little enchantments.
With the daisy chains, she’d tried a simple cooperation spell. She wasn’t entirely sure it would work, but she kept her fingers crossed. As long as the targets didn’t regard her as much of a threat, and so had their guard down, she reckoned she had a good chance.
Klaus bent down and picked up a daisy chain; so did Dana.
“What’s this?” said Klaus, wide-eyed. His voice was oddly sing-song, like a dreamy child.
Dana grinned at her daisies. “Pretty!” she said.
Wren smiled. Her spell had certainly done something. “So, where is the Convocation taking place?”
The two Pipers nodded, their grins not slipping for a moment.
“In the Monash Hollow,” said Dana. “The Council members are all there, as are most of the Elite Pipers from the Castle and many more who have travelled far.” She waggled her finger at Wren. “Not us though. We’re not there. We’re here.”
“It’s not fair!” said Klaus. “A big party to celebrate the Death of the Hamelyn Piper, and we’re missing it all! I mean, we’ve been helping out with preparations all week, but do we get to enjoy it?”
Dana shook her head. “Nuh uh!”
“Feasts and dancing!” said Klaus. “Games and challenges! And we have to stay here and watch the Castle.” He frowned in a way that a grumpy five-year-old would have been proud of. “We’re missing all the fun!”
Dana stuck out her lower lip and nodded. “Yuh huh!”
“Fair enough,” said Wren. She was done here. She turned round and started to walk off.
“Hold up!” said Dana. She looked at Klaus. “Weren’t we going to chuck her in a cell?”
The two Pipers blinked and shook their heads as if they had water in their ears. The spell was
slipping, and rapidly. Wren delved into a pocket where she’d put some little bunches of clover stalks that she’d bewitched for an emergency. Quick as a flash, she snapped a bunch in two. “I can go about my business!” she said. “You should go and have some tea now!”
Dana nodded. “You can go about your business. We should go and have some tea now.”
Wren felt a surge of pride at how well that one had gone, but Klaus was scowling at her.
“Hang about!” he said. “Is she…is she using witchcraft?”
Dana scoffed. “What, a good-for-nothing ruffian like that? Get a grip, Klaus!” They both shared a laugh, and then looked around with surprise. Wren, it seemed, had vanished.
“Where’d she go?” said Klaus.
“Fast runner,” shrugged Dana. “Good riddance to her.” She walked back through the guard door.
“I don’t remember there being a tree out here…” said Klaus. He moved towards the tree for a closer look.
Wren felt like a bit of a fool, standing there with her arms stretched out to her sides as the Custodian Piper peered at her. The tree-glamour was the only magical disguise she’d managed to learn in all her time poring over Underath’s books, and while the birds had always been fooled by it, she felt a huge relief that it had worked on the Piper too.
She felt something land on her arm.
“Ooh!” said Klaus. “A woodpecker!”
Wren gulped.
“Come on, Klaus,” called Dana. “Your turn to make the tea.”
“Yeah, okay,” said Klaus, and off he went into the Castle, closing the guard door behind him.
Very carefully, Wren turned her head and stared at the bird. “Really?” she said.
The woodpecker blinked. For a moment it looked confused, and then, decidedly embarrassed, it flew away in shame.
Wren returned quickly to Barver and Patch, and told them about the Convocation. She was still rather cross about the way she’d been treated by the two Custodians, but she didn’t mention it; nor did she say anything about the spells she’d cast. Tempting as it was to boast, she wanted to keep that kind of thing quiet for now.
Barver wasn’t exactly impressed by the news. “Pah!” he said. “A celebration of the Hamelyn Piper’s death is hardly a strong message of anger to send to the dragons, is it? They badly damage the Castle, and what’s the response? ‘You did a terrible thing, dragons, but also we’re really happy about it thanks.’”
Patch nodded. “They clearly are happy about it,” he said. “A Convocation is rare. There’s an annual Spring Festival held in Monash Hollow, but turning it into a Convocation makes it a much larger affair – with the greatest Pipers from near and far, not just ordinary Pipers and trainees.”
“Well, that’s where Lord Drevis is,” said Wren. She looked at Patch. “Lead the way!”
Monash Hollow was a wide circular area of grassland to the east of Tiviscan, surrounded by woods. Barver, Patch and Wren took position on a neighbouring hill, giving them a good view of the Hollow that let them appreciate how big it was – at least half a mile across.
Even so, every part of it was covered in tents and people. There were plenty of non-Pipers at the Convocation, including people running food and clothing stalls. It was no wonder Tiviscan had seemed so quiet; most of the population were here, either making a little money out of the huge event or simply enjoying the spectacle.
The sounds that reached them contained celebration and excitement and – naturally enough – music. Patch could hear the playing of the Garland Reel, a traditional spring melody that accompanied the Garland Dance. He spotted those who were dancing, and smiled as he watched. The Garland Dance was essentially a game – pairs faced each other holding hands, dancing quickly sideways in a long line, and at different cues in the music the pairs had to change what steps they were doing. Those who got it wrong had to leave the dance, and as the music sped up the changes grew more frequent until only two dancers remained.
In the middle of the Hollow was a series of temporary structures, including a vast and impressive stage, which had been decorated as a towering mock-up of Tiviscan Castle made of painted cloth and scaffolding. It must have been at least a hundred feet high.
“Wow,” said Wren. “Whoever did that has put in a lot of effort.”
Patch looked at the throng, astonished by the sheer number of people. With a slight tremble he imagined how bad the toilet pits would be by the end of the day. “I loved the Spring Festival each year,” he said. “But they were nothing compared to this! Look at how many Elite Pipers are attending! Such an opportunity for them to pass on their knowledge and experience. See that side?” He pointed to a fenced-off area where sheep grazed. “The Drover and Arable Elite are demonstrating their farming skills there. And if you look to the left –” there was a wide expanse of ground that had been churned up into crater-pocked mud – “the Battle Elite are showing off what they can do.” He thought back to his own battle training. He’d learned that what generals most valued was anything that boosted morale or – when a fight was at risk of being lost – gave the fighters a frenzied bloodlust. Patch had hated those lessons. The role of the Battle Elite in war typically meant treating soldiers as nothing more than weapons: using Songs to stop them caring about their own lives. Yet he’d been fascinated by Songs like the Push, and its close relatives – blasts of destructive force could be launched with incredible precision by the best of the Battle Elite. Patch had never quite mastered the precision side of it, but the destruction part was fun, when lives weren’t being threatened. “Whatever Song you can think of, somewhere out there will be a place for interested Pipers to learn more.”
“What’s the massive pretend Castle for?” asked Barver.
“Spring Festival always has a central stage for a tournament,” said Patch. “I imagine the Convocation Tournament will be even more thrilling, given how many Elite are present. I mean, they’ve really pulled out all the stops with that stage, haven’t they? Look at the size of it!”
“A thrilling tournament?” said Wren. “What kind of things do they do?”
“Lots of contests to pit the best against the best,” said Patch. “For Custodians it might be chasing someone over obstacles, say. It can get very exciting.”
There were Pipers on the stage as they spoke, but little movement. “They’re not doing very much,” said Barver, frowning.
Patch squinted until he recognized the uniform. “They’re Arable Elite,” he said. “It could be a race to see who gets some seeds to germinate and sprout first, or who can get water to flow uphill the fastest.”
The three of them watched intently. After a few minutes without any activity to speak of, a whistle blew and one Piper celebrated by leaping up and down.
“Germination race, probably,” said Patch.
Wren shook her head in disbelief. “Gripping entertainment,” she said. “Gripping.” Then she set off to find Lord Drevis.
When she emerged from the trees at the edge of the Hollow, Wren was half-expecting to be stopped and questioned by some more surly Custodians. Instead, the people were friendly and smiling, enjoying their day.
She headed for the mock castle stage first, thinking that perhaps the Council would be near the centre of the action. The stage itself was empty at that moment, so she went round towards the rear to see if she could spot anyone important-looking. She was sure she could hear activity going on further within the structure, and took a closer look at one of the large sheets hanging down around the exterior – canvas, it seemed, painted to resemble castle stonework. She was about to have a peek behind it when a hand grabbed her shoulder and firmly turned her round.
A large man was giving her a very disapproving glare.
“No access,” said the man, his voice oddly emotionless. “Go.”
“Oh, I was just—” started Wren, but the man clearly wasn’t going to take any nonsense.
“Go,” he said again, in that same impassive way. Wren noticed that his
eyes didn’t seem to carry any emotion either – not anger, or annoyance. Not even boredom.
“Go,” said the man once more, giving her a shove.
“Okay, okay,” said Wren. “No need for that. I’m going.”
She thought about trying another part of the stage area, but there were other men around, dressed almost identically to the one who’d shoved her. Instead, she headed out into the crowd, passing a woman selling iced buns.
“Pay him no mind, my sweet,” said the woman, smiling.
“You saw?” said Wren.
The woman nodded. “They’ve been helping set all this up, but they’re not the friendliest souls. I suppose they just don’t want anyone messing about near their centrepiece! Think of the work it took!” The woman looked up at the mock castle looming high over them.
Wren’s gaze followed. “I suppose you’re right,” she said.
“Here,” said the woman, handing her one of her iced buns. “No charge! You deserve some kindness after that.”
Wren grinned and thanked her. She ate her bun, glancing around the Hollow, looking for any sign of the Council. At last she saw a group of Custodian Pipers emerge from a particularly impressive tent. They were followed by five overly serious-looking men and women in robes that must have weighed a ton. As they neared the stage, she could see their faces clearly, and recognized them from Patch’s trial. The Piper’s Council! Her opportunity to speak to Lord Drevis would come soon enough.
Once they reached the stage, the Custodian Pipers and the Council members walked up some steps at the side. Wren watched from a little way back as the Custodians held up their hands, signalling for quiet. When the general hubbub had settled down, a Custodian spoke up with a loud, clear voice. “Ladies and Gentlemen, and Pipers in Attendance!” he called. “The Lords and Ladies of the Council will hereby make an announcement regarding the events to be held this evening! I give you Lord Drevis!”
A Darkness of Dragons Page 23