“Perhaps. Who knows how they do what they do, but sometimes their own nature gets in their way,” Orwell replied. “What do you think, Master Historian?”
Diamedes had refused the food but did take a glass of wine. The Aquinian flavor was unmistakable and somewhat expensive in Ulatha, far to the west, but here in Balaria, the crossroads of overland trade and seafaring transit lanes, it was more affordable. Diamedes set his cup down and cleared his throat. “Well, based on facts I’ve collected over the last few decades, I’d say they will have someone here. In fact, they already know who it is and when their representative will arrive. The fact that we don’t know is typical for them.”
“They only have a couple more days, if the date given is correct,” Toray said.
“Correct,” Diamedes said. “I suspect they will arrive very soon.”
“So, if you don’t mind my asking,” Toray said, looking around the table, “how is it that a justiciar is commanding Ulathan troops? Shouldn’t the duke have sent one of his commanders?”
“You’ve obviously been secluded out here for way too long, Master Toray,” Edwin said, looking at the man. “Gaius Orwell was one of Duke Uthor’s champions for many years and has only recently accepted his appointment to justiciar.”
“I thought the position demanded one to have a bit more tact and an objective outlook,” Toray said, confusion crossing the man’s face.
Diamedes looked to see if Orwell would take offense, but the justiciar seemed to ignore the conversation as if bored with the topic. Diamedes answered before Edwin could. “If I may, Ambassador Toray, the duke has decided that Justiciar Orwell can both command and execute law and order if necessary, and that made him a logical choice for these negotiations.”
“You mean meeting,” Toray corrected.
“With the Kesh, all meetings involve negotiations.” Diamedes held his verbal ground.
“Enough of this talk,” Orwell said. “I represent the duke, and that is final. What matters now is the content of the meeting and how it will affect all of us. I sense the Kesh are up to no good as usual.”
“See, I said one with more tact,” Toray replied softly at Diamedes, but it was obviously audible to everyone at the table.
Orwell simply laughed and poured his own wine, not waiting or motioning for a servant to do it for him. “I’ll be more diplomatic in the actual meeting, Master Toray, no need to worry yourself.”
“What’s that commotion there?” Toray asked, looking across the bay, down to the large docks and wharfs at the city’s center.
“That would be a Balarian corsair arriving,” Orwell said, taking his freshly poured glass of wine and sipping it.
An angular ship was entering the harbor and was forced to pass the starboard side of the Hammer and its array of deadly weapons. Diamedes understood now why the justiciar had positioned the ship where it was. It could defend itself against any newly arriving ship and at the same time set sail, catching the strong southern winds that swept the outer bay and allowing it to depart quickly instead of struggling to free itself from the lesser sheltered winds when in dock.
The man knew his military strategy well, Diamedes thought. Still, what was going on down at the docks?
“It looks like the Dagger’s Edge,” Edwin said, shielding his eyes with his hand and peering into the bay.
“What ship is that?” Orwell asked, now curious at the commotion on the dock.
Edwin motioned for a servant and whispered into the man’s ear. The servant took off, running out of sight around the side of the villa. Edwin returned his attention to the bay before speaking. “The Dagger’s Edge is the Balarian corsair that left here a few weeks ago. It is long overdue and was supposed to have transported a Balarian contingent as well as the Kesh wizard and his apprentice on their expedition.”
“Well, it seems to be making quite an arrival,” Toray added. “Why are there so many birds above the ship?”
“I thought you’d know about the sea scavengers living in an ocean city,” Orwell said, taking his eyes off of the bay and looking at the Tynirian ambassador.
“Well, I try to stay away from vultures and the like. What did you call them? Sea scavengers?” Toray asked.
“Yes, I’ve seen them in port cities where there is a lot of fishing, crabbing, and the like, as well as on beaches when large beasts wash ashore. They pick at their dead bodies, scavenging what they can, always near the ocean,” Orwell said.
“Well, there seems to be something drawing their attention. The entire flock is hovering around that Balarian ship,” Toray said, looking intently at the ship arriving.
The ship furled several sails and almost came to a complete stop near the main dock, not far from where their skiff had been docked. In fact, Diamedes fancied he could see the skiff’s lone mast peeking up from the other side of the massive wharf. The Dagger’s Edge sat near the dock for some time before finally getting ropes to the dockhands who were newly called from other parts of the harbor system, and at least two dozen of them pulled, bringing the Balarian corsair alongside the dock, berthing neatly opposite of their skiff.
A large crowd had amassed at the dock itself, and people could be seen motioning, a slight murmur of the crowd floating up to greet the Ulathans even from that distance.
The men sat mostly in silence, observing the ordeal until the servant returned, panting and struggling to regain his breath.
“Yes, Andrew, do tell, what is going on down there?” Edwin asked the man.
“Dragon!” He panted, breathing heavily, hands on his hips. Diamedes was impressed with the man’s feat; that was no small run.
“Nonsense, man, talk some sense,” Toray exclaimed, mildly annoyed by the preposterous declaration.
The man composed himself before speaking. “The Balarian expedition brought back a dragon’s head. A blue dragon.”
There was silence around the table till Diamedes spoke. “Bloody hell.”
Chapter 5
Balax
Seth was content to have returned to Balix, despite the sometimes grimy nature of a port city that large. It was his city, and returning, he felt the same contentment that a traveler feels when sleeping in their own bed again after a long absence.
Their arrival had electrified the entire city. On the large flat space of the Dagger’s Edge’s bow, they had brought back the head of the blue dragon. Graz, the large northern barbarian, had spent considerable time hacking at the creature’s neck until finally severing it from its massive body. Their group had pulled several claws and scales and kept them as souvenirs and to sell or trade as part of their victory.
Captain Eiry was mostly silent on the return trip, having lost the overseer and over half of his troops. In fact, only eight were still alive and only two were uninjured out of twenty soldiers. Still, the assassin thought that twelve lives plus a fat bureaucrat was a small price to pay for killing such a nemesis.
The Kesh wizard Kaylor had explained to the captain and the Balarians how the beast would come out to feed and wreak havoc and instill fear along the entire coast once its period of hibernation had ended. There were some doubting looks at this last claim, but the wizard simply explained that they needed to eliminate the creature before it could regain its strength and begin its murderous rampage on the Balarian shipping lanes and coastal fisherman that dotted the sea shore from Balaria to the far southern shores of Safron and as far north as the seafaring barbarians.
“Welcome back, Seth,” Azex said, nodding at his most competent and dangerous assassin. “You’re overdue, but the reason is now obvious.”
The two men sat at a table at a nondescript window in a building that looked like almost every other building in the city. The table overlooked a window, and the two men watched as gawkers continued to arrive to see the head of the dragon. Word had traveled fast and far, and most would not believe the tale until they had seen it first with their own eyes.
“The governor will continue with the meeting?” Seth
asked his boss, continuing to watch the spectacle on the docks.
“Yes, the conclave will start the day after tomorrow. Despite the commotion you and the Kesh have initiated, they will not delay the meeting.”
“Don’t blame me. It was their mercenary northerner that struck the killing blow. I would not have believed it myself if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”
“Yes, the warrior is not to be underestimated. This explains much about the Kesh,” Azex said coolly.
“How so?” Seth asked, sincerely wanting to understand his boss’s logic. Despite being the better assassin, Azex had a mind for strategic matters that superseded what Seth thought, and for that lone reason, Azex was the grandmaster and Seth was the employee.
“You fail to remember the rumors when the Kesh arrived months ago with the mercenary. Most felt the wild barbarian a poor choice as a bodyguard. Some even thought the Kesh mad to use the northerner. Turns out that misdirection and a serious display of false weakness is something the Kesh do, and they do it well,” Azex said.
“No, I remember well. I also remember a few other things I said that were disregarded, but I’ll not bring them up again,” Seth said, watching as Azex took his eyes from the docks and looked intently at Seth. Seth saw the machinations within that gaze as the two men assessed each other silently before Azex responded.
“You are becoming wiser, if not less vocal, in your summations,” Azex said, returning to his observation of the docks. “I’m glad to hear that the matter with Caras has been dropped. That particular rivalry would do nothing for our organization, especially now. We need to stay sharp with this many rivals in such close proximity to each other.”
“You’re referring to the Tynirians and Ulathans?” Seth asked.
“Yes, amongst others, but those realms despise our kind and they, too, are particularly good at what they do. Not many realms could bend the will of the Kesh and force them to change a conclave that they ordered. That takes courage,” Azex said.
“Or stupidity,” Seth offered. Azex didn’t return the look but didn’t seem to agree with Seth. “Perhaps they want to provoke the Kesh?”
“That would be unwise,” Azex responded flatly.
Seth decided to change the subject. “Has the ban held?”
Azex did look at Seth this time, speaking calmly. “Yes, Jayrel has agreed, and his guild has suspended activities for the duration of the event.”
“Then there isn’t much for us to do,” Seth responded casually.
“Actually there are a few things.” At this, Seth perked up, wondering what his grandmaster could have in store for an assassin. “You’ll need to perform some enforcing, and do it strictly.”
“Lone wolves?” Seth asked.
“Of course, this time Jayrel wants them eliminated. He intends to clean house with this suspension since the time can’t be used profitably.”
“And you agreed?”
“I did. We can use the overall suspension to our advantage and weed out a few informants as well. It bodes well for both our organizations. We’re long overdue for a house cleaning, anyway.”
“I would agree with you on that count,” Seth said, returning to look at the docks.
“I see the engineering team has arrived . . . How on Agon did you manage to drag that beast’s head onto the ship?” Azex asked, curiosity in his voice.
“It wasn’t easy,” Seth answered, watching as a horse-drawn set of carts arrived and men dressed in brown leathers with burlap shirts started moving around the ship, some boarding it while others were seen taking out long lengths of rope and a few pulleys. “In the end, we needed a bit of help from the wizard.”
Azex looked at Seth, interest in the grandmaster’s eyes. “Pray tell, what did the wizard do?”
Seth laughed. “He shrunk the head to the size of a human’s. The effect lasted for almost a full day before returning in size and knocking a few of our sailors down in the process.”
“Hmm, the Kesh could do that, eh?”
“Yes, there is a lot of things they can do, and I think we’re just beginning to scratch the surface. Do you know what Governor Richtor has planned for the head?”
“I do. He intends to mount it in the city square on top of a special stone column. Some say he’ll rename Merchant’s Square to Dragon’s Square. It does have a bit of a ring to it, but the entire ordeal is rather dramatic for my tastes.”
“The Kesh agreed?” Seth asked.
“He did, after claiming the horns and the beast’s brain. Research, he called it, or some such nonsense. No doubt the horns will be used in elixirs to assist men in their husbandly duties. I’d imagine many apothecaries would like to have a potion for that,” Azex said.
“Seems a petty use of the creature’s corpse. You’d think they would do something different with it,” Seth said.
“It doesn’t matter. The Kesh informed us that there was a dragon nearby waiting to end its slumber and attack during the transit of Dor Akun, and the Kesh was correct. Now we don’t need to fear something this dreadful in the near future. What? You disagree?” Azex asked.
Seth shook his head. “I’m worried. There’s more to this than we can see, and I’d be disappointed if you overlooked it.”
Azex narrowed his eyes. Was his prime assassin challenging his authority? He chose his words carefully. “What could we possibly be missing, Seth?”
Seth returned the intense gaze of his grandmaster and then took a deep breath. “Another dragon.”
The large dragon slithered from the ocean into its cavern just off a solitary grotto on a desolate island near Balaria. Its scales gleamed a bright blue, and its eyes were brighter yet. The wings shook, flinging water in all directions as the rivulets from the salty water ran down and around its armored body.
The smaller creature, also winged, scaled, and wicked-looking in nature, sat silently watching its master return to its lair. The most striking difference in the two creatures, other than the size and color, was the bulbous stinger tail of the smaller wyvern drone. The poisonous gland was what marked the wyvern as different from the Draconus species.
With great effort, the dragon crawled along the sandy edge of the water toward its seaweed-crusted mound that it preferred to sit on. Before reaching it, it suddenly stopped, and like a cat clearing a fur ball, it hacked and shot out a large wooden plank. The beast shook its head as if in disapproval and moved to lay on the bulk of seaweed, sand, and mud.
“Nasty ship?” the drone asked, its voice soft, head lowered in deference to the dragon.
The blue dragon took a moment to settle and then looked around, seeing its servant. The grotto was illuminated from the sunlight that was reflected from its sparkling, clear waters. The shimmering effect within the cavern gave a serene disposition to the otherwise dark and dangerous lair.
“I detest the taste of wood,” the dragon stated, not expecting an answer, “and the humans are smaller than I remember them.”
“It’s the effect of the sleep, Your Grace,” the wyvern drone said. “You’ll feel better soon, I’m sure.”
The dragon was about to answer when it stood and circled, using its long claws to rake the bed of seaweed and burrow gashes into the hard soil, making it more comfortable, and then resuming its place again atop its rotten bed. “I don’t think the ship I destroyed was the same one,” it said.
Before the drone could answer, the dragon coughed and then lunged its head twice toward the sandy beach before vomiting up what looked like a half-digested human white shirt, a colorful red and blue bandana, and what must have been a large bone, a human femur, in fact, if the wyvern remembered human anatomy correctly. The drone allowed the dragon a moment to compose itself.
“Did it not have the colored banner I described to you, Your Highness?” asked the drone, continuing to sit at the water’s edge.
“It did, though there was no sign or smell of Sheela,” the dragon answered, blinking several times to clear its eyes of seawater that had
drained from its horns and head.
“Perhaps they washed the scent away?”
“Impossible, Cyprian,” the dragon said, steeling her eyes toward the drone. “I would know if my sister’s blood was spilled on the deck of that foul ship. You doubt me, little one?”
The nature of the relationship would have been clear to any casual observer, yet the drone seemed to take no offense. Indeed, it would seem the creature was accustomed to its role as the subservient of the two and would not fight its fate. The creature lowered its head ever so slightly and lowered its eyes, looking only at its master’s claws before speaking. “No, Your Royalness, no doubt whatsoever. I simply find it annoying that the ship was not the correct one. I know how it pains you to be inconvenienced over such things.”
The disposition of the drone seemed to assuage the dragon’s rising anger and frustration. “Very well, Cyprian, perhaps you can track it down again for me? This time be a bit more careful and . . . shall we say, detailed in your information?”
“As you wish, Ela Elektra. Do you wish for me to leave now?” The drone raised its eyes a tad, still not daring to make eye contact.
The dragon thought for a second before responding. “Leave immediately. See to it that you return by sunset, and this time inform me from where my sister’s killers came. I will see to it personally.”
“Yes, Your Royalness, as you command.” The drone moved toward the exit, diving through the water and swimming, and then he would fulfill his mistress’s demands. He only knew that he didn’t want to be a human right now.
Chapter 6
Revenge
“Yes, a party tomorrow night to celebrate the opening of the Kesh conclave,” Richtor said to several members of various realms, brought together to discuss the formalities of the gathering.
“We don’t like being kept in the dark, Governor. When will the Kesh arrive?” one of the barons said, his tone demeaning despite being at the Balarian’s main governmental complex. Several other leaders and representatives nodded in approval. It was obvious that the Kesh were not in favor with most of the realms in Agon.
The Blue Dragon: A Claire-Agon Dragon Book (Dragon Series 2) Page 5