The Last Dragonlord

by Joanne Bertin

  “Yes. But if you’re hungry, Dragonlord, Gevianna can bring you something,” Rann said, mistaking his meaning.

  “Only if you join me, Your Highness,” Linden said, catching the nurse’s eye. She smiled her thanks.

  “I’ll fetch some bread and cheese right away,” she said as she rose from the grass. She made them both a courtesy and set off.

  Rann watched her for a moment and then turned back to Linden. “Dragonlord,” he said shyly, “could we play a game while we wait?”

  “Of course, lad,” Linden said, and set Rann down again. “What would you like?”

  “Hide-and-seek. You hide and Bramble and I shall find you”

  “Well enough; but wouldn’t you like to hide, instead?” Linden asked, remembering his own childhood. He’d always hated being the Seeker.

  Rann heaved a martyred sigh. “Bramble always gives me away,” he said in disgust. “He bounces.”

  Linden hid a smile. “I see. Very well; you cover your eyes and count, and I’ll hide.”

  “Good!” Rann clapped his hands over his eyes and began chanting aloud. “One. Two. Three …”

  Linden turned and ran as quietly as he could through the garden. He ducked beneath the thickly hanging branches of a weeping willow. This shouldn’t be too hard for Rann, and as long as he kept still, the keen-eyed wolfhound shouldn’t spot him. Linden parted the branches slightly; if he craned his neck he could just see the prince between the bushes between them.

  Rann dropped his hands and sang out gleefully, “Ready or not!” But the boy had taken only three steps when Lady Beryl came around a hedge and caught him up. She bore him away, protesting every step. Bramble followed with head and tail hanging.

  It happened so fast that Linden had no time to protest. By the time he reached the spot where he’d left Rann, neither prince nor governess were to be seen.

  Gevianna appeared, bearing a tray. She looked at him and sighed. “Lady Beryl, Your Grace?”

  Nodding, Linden asked, “How did you—”

  “She does this all the time, Dragonlord. The moment I leave Rann alone, she pounces on him even when it’s not time for his lessons. Sometimes it’s even Duke Beren. I swear they spy on us.”

  “Indeed?” Linden said softly. “Thank you, no, Gevianna; I’m not hungry.” He waved the nurse away.

  She left him. Linden stood alone beneath the lowering sky and brooded.

  Otter tried to tell his stomach that there was nothing left, but his stomach refused to listen. Once more the bard leaned over the rail while that same troublemaking stomach tried to vomit up everything he’d ever eaten. When it gave up in exhaustion, Otter slid weakly to the deck, an arm wrapped around one of the posts of the rail, his eyes closed as he curled up like a miserable hedgehog.

  It was some time before he paid attention to his surroundings. At first he thought the water sloshing around him was from the pelting rain. But when some splashed onto his lips and his befogged mind said Salt!, he came to himself enough to look around.

  And wished he hadn’t. A wall of green water was about to crash down on the stern of the Sea Mist. Maurynna and the first mate had their backs to it, blind to the danger. He pointed frantically.

  The wall reared higher, its top curling down to engulf the little ship—and disappeared. Moments later it reappeared.

  “What the—?” said Otter in bewilderment.

  Maurynna finally noticed his pointing finger. She looked back at the wave towering over her and merely nodded. Cupping her hands to her mouth, she yelled, “Don’t worry. It won’t get us! It only looks like that because we’re at the bottom of the swell right now. Each wave will slide under us—watch!”

  He preferred not to, thank you very much. But he couldn’t tear his fascinated gaze from each wave that threatened to devour the Sea Mist—and didn’t.

  Maurynna worked her way to him hand-over-hand along the safety lines strung across the quarterdeck. Keeping one hand on the line, she gripped his shoulder with the other. “How are you faring?”

  “I feel as though I’m going to die and afraid I won’t,” Otter joked weakly.

  “Quite frankly you look awful. I don’t think the storm will go on much longer, and the moment it’s over you’re going to your cabin.” A fresh burst of wind blew a loose strand of long black hair across her face. She pushed it back. Her odd-colored eyes sparkled.

  “You’re enjoying this!” he said in astonishment.

  She looked surprised. “Of course I am. The whole crew is. This really isn’t a bad storm, Otter; look how much canvas we have up. And we’re making wonderful time. With luck we’ll make port tomorrow.”

  “Gods help me,” Otter moaned. “The girl and all her crew are mad. Just let me get to dry land and I’ll never set foot on board a ship again.” Thank the gods I never told her what’s waiting for her in Casna. She’d have all the bloody sails up in this bloody storm and the bloody crew paddling with whatever they could find. “I ought to make you wait until your birthday for your surprise. It would only be just.”

  But Maurynna only laughed at him and made her way back to the ship’s wheel, calling out, “Remember, Otter—I want that surprise when we reach Casna!”

  Fourteen

  Linden, sitting to one side of Kief, leaned forward, studying the document on the table before them. On Kief’s other side Tarlna did the same.

  So this is the warrant granting the regency to Beren, Linden thought to himself.

  It had reappeared just this morning; a bewildered archivist brought it to the council chambers and delivered it directly into Kief’s hands.

  “I don’t understand how it got in that drawer, Dragonlord,” the baffled Ferrin had said as Kief slid the scarlet ribbon from the rolled parchment and smoothed it out. “And it’s pure luck we found it at all; if the palace reeve hadn’t needed to examine some older tax rolls …” The man shrugged.

  Had it been, Linden wondered, some kind of honest mistake after all? That his convenient excuse of a servant’s error was the truth? Surely if this had been done deliberately, the thief would have destroyed the document rather than take the chance it might be found again.

  Likely they would never know.

  He read through it a second time. It purported to be in Queen Desia’s own hand, and from what he could see of the other documents from the late queen scattered across the table, it certainly looked to be.

  The A’s aren’t quite right in this section, Tarlna said, tracing a circle with her finger around one paragraph. Do you see the difference?

  Kief picked through the other sheets of parchment. Finally selecting two, he said, But they match the A’s in these. Perhaps Desia didn’t write this in one sitting. Perhaps she wrote one part at her desk and another on—I don’t know—a tray on her lap or something. That could account for that slight wavering.

  Linden nodded in agreement, then looked up at a muffled cough from one of the council. Until then, the room had been still, its quiet broken only by the breathing of the council members and the furtive shuffling of feet and shifting in chairs. Forty pairs of eyes met his. Forty accusing stares said, “What’s taking you so long? Get on with it!”

  Only one pair of eyes refused to meet his: Beren’s. The duke stared at the table before him.

  On a whim, Linden asked, “Duke Beren, the prince’s supporters claim that you forged this. Is that true?”

  Beren met his eyes then. Although the blood surged to his face in an angry tide, the man said quietly and firmly, “Your Grace, I have never forged anything in my life. Anyone who says I did that lies.”

  He’s telling the truth, Linden thought. Yet—something’s not quite right.

  Maurynna stood in her favorite place in the bow, the polished rail warm under her hands, and watched the shore off to port. She could smell sun-baked earth and the green scent of fields and trees now.

  Familiar landmarks counted off the miles. First the ruined tower on a cliff, then the beach that seemed so inviti
ng and whose waters hid rocks like shark’s teeth.

  Then came the old fortress—still watching for sea reivers centuries gone—that told them the mouth of the Uildodd River was perhaps a candlemark’s sail. Above her the great woad-blue sails cracked and snapped as the Sea Mist came hard about to sail closer to the shore. The Erdon banner stood out from the mainmast, its silver dolphin dancing in the wind.

  She studied the position of the sun when they finally turned into the Uildodd itself. They would make Casna well before it set.

  It will be good to see Aunt Elenna and Uncle Owin again. And very good to see Maylin. Why does the only female cousin close to my age have to live in Cassori instead of Thalnia? she wondered idly. And Kella! I wonder if she’ll remember me. Maurynna balanced against the roll and pitch of the ship, staring across the brown expanse of the river. The wistful thought came: I wish I could have grown up here instead of Thalnia. The Vanadins have always felt more like my family than any of the others since Mother and Father died. Ah, well; what’s done is done.

  Behind her the bosun bellowed orders. “Furl all sails save the mizzen,” he cried in a voice hoarse from years of outshouting gales.

  She listened to the sailors’ bare feet thudding across the deck behind her. Soon the Sea Mist would dock. Then she herself would supervise the unloading of the Assantikkan palm wine. She’d trust no one else with that. And—finally—off to her aunt and uncle’s house and a bath.

  She ran a lock of hair through her fingers. It was stiff with salt. That bath would feel good. She’d not have long to wait for it now. The docks were just off the starboard bow.

  She just hoped Otter wouldn’t wait to reveal his surprise until the Solstice. While she was certain whatever it was would make a wonderful birthday present, she didn’t think she could wait that long. Not with all the mysterious hints he’d been throwing out. If he waits that long I will keelhaul him.

  “Good silver for those thoughts, Rynna,” Otter said from behind her.

  She turned. He stood, legs braced against the pitch and roll of the deck. One hand toyed with the broad leather strap of his harp’s carrying case running diagonally across his chest.

  Maurynna smiled sweetly. “You wouldn’t like them,” she said.

  He laughed. “Still planning to keelhaul me, then? But if you do how will I ever introduce you to Linden Rathan?”

  “Very well, I won’t—but just because you’ve promised to introduce me someday. Gods—to meet the Dragonlord who knew Bram and Rani! But until then … Perhaps a week in the crow’s nest instead.”

  “Don’t even think it, my fierce little seahawk. I’d sing off key the entire time just to annoy you.” Otter turned serious. He said, “Rynna, in case I forget to warn you when the time comes, I know how much you’d love to ask Linden about his time with Bram and Rani, but whatever you do, don’t ask him about Satha. He still—Ah, just don’t. If he volunteers information, that’s one thing. But don’t ask.”

  Astonished at the sudden change in subject, Maurynna asked, “Why? Can you tell me?”

  “I don’t know if I should.” The bard ran a hand through his iron-grey hair. “Oh, hang it all—you might as well know what has been dropped from the tales over the centuries.

  “Rani woke Satha from a magically induced ‘sleep’ that had gone on for a century or two. Yet Satha had had enemies in his own time; Bram and Rani guessed that someone got to him before the protection spell that was part of the magery was complete and cut his throat. But the spell was so powerful that Satha’s soul was bound to his body—which began rotting over the ensuing years. He terrified hardened mercenaries. Imagine what he did to a boy of sixteen who’d never been away from his father’s keep until he ran away to join Bram and Rani.

  “Then one day Linden took a blow that was meant for Rani. It would have killed him but for Satha, who, when he had been truly alive, was Healer as well as Harper. You know how much a Healing can hurt, don’t you, even with a skilled Healer? Satha,” Otter finished grimly, “was not gentle.”

  Maurynna shivered in the hot sun. “I always thought that the part about Satha being undead was, was—”

  “A bardic embellishment? Unfortunately no. It was quite real.”

  Otter stared out across the water. Maurynna studied him, thinking that he still looked drawn and pale from the storm, and waited for more.

  He continued, “At one time Linden frequently accompanied me on my bardic journeys. More than once I had to throw something at him to wake him up from a nightmare when we were camping. I learned,” he turned to her once again and now there was a twinkle in his eye, “after the first time not to shake a Dragonlord out of a bad dream.” He made a motion suggesting someone flying through the air. “Linden is damnably strong.”

  Maurynna winced at the image in her mind’s eye.

  The Sea Mist came across the swift current of the Uildodd. Otter lurched for the rail as the ship tossed. Muttering a curse under his breath, he clung to the rail.

  Maurynna swayed with the cog’s motion. “Yerrins,” she said with smug superiority. “No sea legs at all. Lucky for you there were no bad storms this trip.” She went to oversee the docking.

  “No bad storms?” he yelled after her. “What in Gifnu’s nine hells hit us yesterday, then?”

  The last of the sails came down and the ship bumped against the pilings. The sailors tossed lines to waiting dockhands. There were far fewer workers than usual. Maurynna wondered if there was some trouble with the Dock Guild. She frowned. The Assantikkan wine had to go to the warehouse as quickly as possible; if left sitting on the dock it would soon sour in the hot sun.

  Breaking into her gloomy thoughts, Otter said, “I’ve never seen a dock so quiet.” He squinted into the afternoon sun. “Shall we go on to your aunt’s now?”

  Maurynna half laughed, half groaned. “Otter, don’t tempt me that way. I have to stay while the wine’s unloaded.” To Otter’s halfhearted offer to stay with her, Maurynna said firmly, “No. But I’d appreciate it if you’d go on ahead and warn them that I’ve docked.”

  And that will make certain that you get some rest. Aunt Elenna will take one look at you, my troublemaking friend, and pop you right into a bed. Good luck arguing with her!

  Otter tried not to look relieved, and failed.

  Maurynna slipped the bracelet from her right wrist. “Here; take this as a token since you’ve never met them before. Hire a wagon for our baggage and tell the carter to take you to Owin and Elenna Vanadin’s house. It’s on the little lane behind Chandlers Row. Tell them I’ll want supper and a bath, please.”

  “I’ll do that,” Otter said. He slipped the bracelet into his belt pouch. “And don’t worry; I’ll take good care of this.”

  “Thank you,” Maurynna said. “Then I’ll meet you at the house later.”

  Otter set off down the gangplank. Maurynna found one of the regular dockhands. “Jebby—where is everybody? Why are there so few workers?”

  Though tall for a Cassorin, the stocky woman who led this crew of dockhands came only to Maurynna’s shoulder. Jebby shook her head, her lined face sweaty, and ran the back of her hand across her forehead. “All the docks is shorthanded, Captain. Every merchant and his cousin is here. Daresay they’re reckoning that between the Solstice and what’s happening in the council, everyone’ll be flocking to Casna. They’re right. Can’t find room in a tavern to lift your elbow.”

  Jebby fumbled in her belt pouch and pulled out a strip of grimy cloth. She tied it around her forehead. “Best get to work now.” She ambled off, yelling, “Go on, you lazy wharf rats! Move your asses!”

  Maurynna looked down at herself ruefully. Her second-best tunic and a good pair of breeches—no, it wouldn’t do to ruin them. And best take off the other bracelet; she might catch it on something. She pulled her hair sticks from her belt pouch. Twisting her long hair into a bun, she stabbed the sticks through it and called, “Give me a few minutes to change my clothing, Jebby, and I’ll be back to he
lp.”

  She went up the gangplank to her cabin.

  The council was just breaking up for the day when Linden felt a tickle at the back of his mind. For a moment he wondered what it might be, then recognized it: the feel of a truehuman mind seeking contact with his. And there was only one such mind he knew well enough for that. He waved Tarlna, who was speaking to him, to silence, tapping his forehead with his two middle fingers in the Dragonlords’ signal for mindspeech. Tarlna nodded and herded a few council members away from him.

  Otter! You’re in Casna already?

  Yes, by the mercy of the gods, came the tired reply.

  The exhaustion he felt through the contact alarmed Linden. What’s wrong? Are you ill?

  Not since that damned storm ended. I’m too old for this gallivanting about, boyo.

  Linden remembered the dark sky he’d seen yesterday morning. You got the storm while at sea? My sympathies. It never made it here, more’s the pity.

  The next words came with more of Otter’s old spirit. Then I bloody well wish you’d gotten it and not us. That madwoman Maurynna and her crew enjoyed it! They claimed it wasn’t a bad one at all.

  Linden nearly laughed aloud at the outraged disbelief in Otter’s tone. Where are you now?

  I’ll be on my way to Maurynna’s family’s house as soon as the carter finishes loading the wagon. They’re also merchants, though this branch is landbound—the Vanadins behind Chandler’s Row. Once I’ve dropped off our luggage, do you want me to meet you somewhere?

  No, Linden said firmly. You’re exhausted. Don’t argue with me, Otter. You forget that I can feel more through the mindlink than you can. And I don’t like what I am feeling. You’re ready to drop. When you get to the—Vanadins, did you say?—you are to eat a light meal and then go to sleep. Is that clear? And just in case you get any notions to the contrary, that’s Dragonlord’s orders.

  Yes, Your Grace, came the meek—and relieved—reply.

  Tell me when you’re settled; I want to make certain you reach the house in one piece. Until tomorrow, then.