by Mirren Hogan
They didn't just wear gloves of steel, he realised after a moment. Metal chain fabric rattled under their uniforms. He saw a small section hanging down over their groins, tiny rings bound to each other. During the Dragonwar, soldiers had worn something similar, to ward off blows from weapons. It wouldn't protect their face if a toucher had a mind to attack them there, but it'd keep the rest of them relatively safe. Or so the history books said.
He raised his hands to either side. "You don't need those swords, I'm not going to try anything."
"Good," the woman said, clearly not believing a word he said, or maybe not caring. One step out of line and he'd be dead anyway. No cause for her to be concerned. She gestured for him to follow her.
Keeping his hands up, he walked, trying to take in everything as they went. Although they passed through several corridors, he found he couldn't tell one from another. At one point he thought he heard distant screams, but they cut off abruptly. Either the doors weren't as sound-proofed as Bakel had said, or someone had closed a door. At any rate, the sound had unnerved him further.
If it bothered the woman or her lackeys, they gave no indication. He'd like to think they hadn't heard, but it seemed more realistic to assume they were accustomed to it.
They arrived outside an open door and the women led them all inside. She turned and gestured to a chair.
"Sit," she ordered.
Daven sat. The reasoners stepped back, close enough to react if he did anything threatening. Instead he lowered his hands to his lap and tried to look as harmless as possible.
The woman stood in front of him, looking at him as though he was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe.
"I am Peris Zand," she declared.
For a moment the significance of this eluded him. Then it clicked into place. Zand.
"Any relation to General Zand?" Daven asked. He tried to sound polite, but the corner of his eye was focused on the sword near his left shoulder.
"He is my brother," she replied.
Daven assumed he was supposed to be impressed. "I see," he said.
"Yes." She pulled over a chair and lowered herself into it. "But I am in charge of this holding. Here, it is my word which is law."
He'd have thought her a little delusional, but her eyes were clear. She was simply stating a fact.
"You are magin," she stated, "what is your area of skill?"
"I'm a healer," he replied.
She gave him a flat stare.
"I'm a toucher," he added.
She shot a triumphant look past his shoulder and he wondered if he'd been some point of contention. He couldn't imagine anyone disagreeing with her, these four in particular. Perhaps she was the type of person who liked to remind people when she was right.
Peris looked back at him. "Of course you are. Now, you've come a long way to free one crazy old woman? Why?"
He shrugged. "I don't know her, I was just along for the ride."
She cocked her head and spoke in a scathing tone, "You break into the most secure holding in Dargyn, just because your companions told you to?"
"When you put it that way, it seems a bit stupid," he replied ironically, "I suppose I'm a fool for a pretty face."
She didn't miss the dig. Her eyes flashed with anger. It passed and she smiled. Whatever power she wielded here, or in Dargyn at large, it far outweighed any concern about her age and looks.
"So you were with a woman?" she pressed.
He considered denying it, but what would be the point? The reasoners who caught him had to have seen Emmin as well, and possibly Bakel. Peris was asking questions she knew the answers to, to find out how honestly he'd answer. The safest option was to tell her the truth. Maybe later when he needed to lie, he could get away with it.
"Yes I was," he said, "two women if you count the older one. And a man," he added, hoping to buy some good will.
Peris nodded. "And who were these people?"
"Magin," he replied. "The man was the older woman's son. The younger woman was his daughter."
That news took Peris by surprise. Her head jerked back slightly. "Interesting."
He knew from her response that they hadn't mange to catch Emmin or Bakel, not yet anyway. That was encouraging.
"Very well then, you have two choices, magin." She used the word like it was an insult. It seemed that his name was of little interest to her. "You obey, or you'll be sent back to Paryos and die."
"Back to . . ." It was his turn to twitch in surprise.
"Oh yes, I know who you are, Daven Issel," she replied, looking smug. "A picture of you has been printed and circulated to every reasoner in Dargyn. I know your mother is a draakin." If magin was undesirable, then she considered draakin repulsive. Her expression suggested so at least. "I also know your father works for us."
"He what?" Daven felt as though he'd choke on his own breath.
Peris smiled. "You heard me. He works side by side with my brother now. Right where we can find him if you choose to do anything untoward."
Daven's world flipped upside down. Nothing he was hearing made any sense. And yet, it did. Del had been offered positions in Paryos before; it was possible he'd take one eventually.
"So, what's it to be? Will you cooperate?"
"That depends on what you want," he said weakly. The soup in his belly churned and threatened to come back up.
"It's very simple." She crossed her legs at her knees. "I have an infusion of goris, blade blush, leaf and fada root. In the right combination it should prevent children from being born with magin abilities."
Daven frowned, working through the idea in his mind. It was a potent combination. It might work if they knew what caused the abilities in the first place. Something in the body or brain, if the elements she'd suggested were involved.
"Say that's possible," he said, "what do you want me to do about it?" He could mix the concoction if that was what they wanted. Even in large doses it wasn't toxic.
"I want you to take the infusion. The same will be given to a magin woman. Then you'll impregnate her."
His lips dropped apart. "I'll . . ." He swallowed. Fewer innocent people would die if the magin were eradicated, and this was a more humane way to do it. It would certainly be an interesting experiment. But fathering a child . . .
"You have a magin woman willing to do this?" he asked.
Peris laughed softly. "Who said she needs to be willing?" she asked.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dashka knew the day would come, but when it did, it still filled her with nerves. She was sure her magical ability was written in the guilt all over her face.
"What do you think they want?" she asked. She glanced over at Kaida who walked beside her. She'd have feel more heartened if the older women didn't look almost as anxious as she felt.
"Reason only knows," Kaida replied, licking her lips. "But when the officials call us down to the office, it's usually because they need us to carry them somewhere, or help with some kind of disaster." She stopped, mouth agape. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound so flippant."
"It's all right," Dashka said quickly. A lump still formed in her throat at the thought of Aunt Mabyl, and the way she'd died, but she couldn't expect Kaida to watch every word she ever said in case she offended her or reminded her of it. "I'm glad you were there that day." Her life would be very different if she hadn't. She would have returned home and spent her days in Huberth's library, too wary to venture back out into the world. She never would have bonded Nehko and he might have died.
If it wasn't for Mabyl and the others whose lives had been lost that day, she might almost be grateful the train did crash. At any rate, she couldn't dwell on it any longer.
"Really. It's fine. Are we allowed to refuse a job if we don't want to do it?"
Kaida snorted. "Does Nehko like to eat?" she asked.
"Of course—oh. They pay that well?" Dashka had more than enough braids to cover her expenses, but she'd come to understand that it wasn't the case f
or the rest of the draakin. She didn't dismiss the possibility that this was how the reasoners wanted it. People who needed goodwill were always easier to control than those who didn't. She considered suggesting that someone else take this job, whatever it was, but decided it would be best to comply. Failing to do that would mean drawing attention to herself. Others might need the braids, but she needed the relative anonymity.
"That depends on what they need," Kaida replied, "but more than that, we need a roof over our heads. One that doesn't come with a door that locks from the outside."
"You think they'd do that?" Dashka shivered in the warm air. The idea of being arrested after all she'd been through was something she didn't want to contemplate.
"I think if they had an excuse to be rid of us, they'd take it. In the meantime, we just go along with what they ask."
Dashka hesitated, before saying, "I have enough braids to keep us all for a while." She turned her head and caught Kaida's wry smile. "I know you don't want to leave the hall, but maybe we could fix it up a bit."
"It could use it," Kaida agreed. "There's more chance of it crumbling around us than anything else. We could put in a request while we're at the office."
"We have to ask to spend our own braids? Uncle Huberth—"
"Is free to do as he pleases, isn't he?" Kaida asked.
"Yes, but . . . Oh. But the Dragonhall is so old, surely it history alone would make them want to preserve it?"
Kaida nodded."It was built by the draakin two hundred years ago, with the help of King Habal."
"And hasn't been touched ever since?" Dashka guessed. "It's such a shame."
"It is, but we could ask to do some small repairs," Kaida said. "Anything more than that might be refused, or used as an excuse to move us on. Upsetting the status quo isn't worth the hassle if that's the result." From the look on her face, Dashka knew she was thinking about her son, not the crumbling building.
"Maybe the status quo is the problem," she said softly.
"Those are rebellious words, draakin Dashka," Kaida said, her smile faint, but eyes warm as though she were teasing.
Dashka sighed. "I know, I just . . ."
Kaida patted her arm. "I know, believe me. Maybe some day." She nodded forward and pressed her lips into a line.
The official's office was nothing special from the outside. It was neither big, nor imposing. Compared to the Dragonhall it was tiny, but what it lacked in grandeur, it made up for by being newer and better cared for. None of the stone facade was cracked, the foundation looked straight and solid. A window on the front of the building was clean, the sill gleaming with oil.
Dashka hadn't noticed any of that the first time she'd been here, but she'd been grieving then. All she'd wanted was to get dry and clean, and then get on the first train home. That seemed like a lifetime in the past now.
She pushed the door open and stepped inside. The same woman she'd spoken to then, was still seated at her desk, at just the angle to give them a look of disapproval as they entered. Dashka could almost see her thinking, horrid draggers, why must I speak to them?
"Garag Jul is awaiting your arrival," she said as if they were late rather than coming as soon as they'd gotten word. She rose and tapped on the door behind her, pushed it open and said something Dashka couldn't hear.
"Go in please." She sat back down and returned to her work.
Dashka raised her eyebrows at Kaida, who smirked and gestured for her to precede her.
Garag Jul's expression was as pleasant as the womans. He looked them both up and down and didn't seemed to much care for what he saw. The feeling was mutual, but Dashka kept her mouth shut. This man had more power than the average resident of Dargyn. That alone terrified her.
"You are the leader of the draakin now that Gallanor Gul is deceased," he declared, addressing Kaida.
Dashka turned to her, taking in her look of surprise. She shouldn't be, none of them were more suited to the role than she was.
"Thank you, sir," Kaida replied. She sounded resolute, but Dashka saw the look in her eyes. It wasn't a position she'd relish, but she'd do it because she had to. Even if the offical hadn't made the decision, the draakin needed her. The latter alone would be enough for her. She was nothing if not dedicated to the dragons and their riders.
"Yes, yes." He looked down at his cluttered desk, located a piece of paper and handed it to Kaida. "You're to go to Anje. Three magin were spotted in the area. Here are their descriptions. You are to look for them and report to the officials in Anje. They are extremely dangerous, do not try to capture them yourselves."
"All right." Kaida took the paper and glanced at it.
Dashka saw relief on her face. None, then, were her son Daven. She glanced at the official who was was watching Kaida with heavily-lidded eyes. He'd chosen her for this to see her reaction. Whatever he'd gleaned from this, Dashka couldn't tell. Perhaps it was nothing more than the perverse pleasure of making draakin squirm.
"We'll leave immediately," Kaida replied.
"Good." Garag nodded and waved them out.
Her heart in her mouth, Dashka followed Kaida, only keeping her words inside until they were a safe distance away.
"Are we really doing this?" she asked, "hunting magin?"
Kaida looked pale, making her hair seem redder than ever. "We don't have a choice. Chances are they'd be long gone before we get there."
"Surely they've thought of that then?" Dashka asked, looking back toward the office.
"I would think so, "Kaida replied, "but they may have reason to think these people would stay in the area." She offered the paper to Dashka who skimmed it.
"Anje Holding?"
Kaida shrugged. "There's a map at the bottom of the page."
"You're not worried about this?" Dashka asked, "what if they can tell—"
"Shhh," Kaida urged, "if you start talking like that, you're going to draw attention to yourself. Take a breath and calm down. We're going to do this, and it'll be fine. You can stay back with the dragons. All right?"
Dashka did as she was asked and exhaled through pursed lips. "I'm sorry, I just didn't expect to be asked to do something like this."
"Neither did I, but it happens once in a while."
"Have you ever caught any?" Dashka asked, her breath gone again.
"No," Kaida replied, half-laughing, "they usually bring us in after the reasoners have searched for days. Then they blame us for not finding them. I suppose they must save face somehow. However—" her expression sobered, "We've had to transport them in the past. I try not to think about what they do to them when they get them there."
Dashka's mouth formed an O. "I'm sorry."
"No, I am," Kaida said, "I should have told you about this before you bonded Nehko. You should have had the chance to weigh up the good and bad before you decided to stay with us."
"I still would have bonded him," Dashka said firmly. "He needed me. I can put my fear aside for his sake." She hoped that was true.
"You'll have to," Kaida told her. "And no matter what, remind yourself that being a magin is illegal. You can't do anything that will end in them finding out, even if it means letting the reasoners execute them."
"Have you ever seen that happen?" Dashka asked, her breath hitching.
"Once," Kaida replied, "now let's get our dragons and get going, we've stood here for long enough."
Dashka nodded, noticing people were looking at them, wondering why they were standing there talking in low voices. So much for being inconspicuous. Still, the need for caution grated on her. Being a magin and a draakin was something she should be proud of. In the past, it would have made her one of the most powerful women in Dargyn. The fate of those around her would have been in her hands, to do with as she pleased. The offical and the woman in the office would have treated her with respect and deference, not derision. Had they forgotten that dragons could incinerate them with barely a thought?
The idea gave her a flash of savage glee, but she quashed i
t down. She wasn't a killer and she wouldn't ask Nehko to be one just because people were rude.
"Yes, let's get them. It'll be nice to get some air and see more of Dargyn."
"It will," Kaida agreed, "Anje is nice this time of year."
They started back toward the hall, but Dashka glanced over her shoulder at the office. Maybe some day.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Dashka had never been scared of heights, but sitting on the back of a dragon, a long way off the ground was still disconcerting. She tried not to look down, but seeing trees look tiny was entrancing.
You will not fall, Nehko assured her.
"Are you certain?" she asked, "It's a very long way down. I'd prefer not to end as a body full of shattered bones on the ground. Or on someone's roof," she added as they soared over a farmhouse and a series of ploughed fields.
He rumbled, sending vibrations through her legs which she found oddly soothing. I have never dropped anyone. Do not worry so much, you are not alone in the sky. I am here. And Risper and Kaida are just ahead. We will not leave you behind.
"Thank reason for that. I'd hate if you disappeared all off a sudden," she said dryly, "since I can't fly."
You can sing, he replied.
She started to laugh, until his words sunk in. "Just because I can, doesn't mean I can fly. Does it?" More likely she'd scream all the way to the ground.
Singers have been known to save themselves from heights, he said, but I've never heard of a dragon dropping anyone in order to find out if they can survive.
"All right," Dashka said slowly, "let's not test that theory."
He rumbled again. Very well, if you insist.
"Oh I do, very much so. Have you ever wanted to drop anyone?" Her question was met with silence, after which she flushed under her riding goggles. "Of course you wouldn't," she replied quickly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you."
You didn't. I was just unsure how you would take it if I admitted that I had. Only once though.
"Can I ask who they were?"