by Kyra Dune
“What–”
Micayta shot her brother a warning look. “Don’t.”
Pytaki clamped his mouth shut, finished taking off his boot, and crawled under the sheets. He glanced at her briefly before rolling over to face the wall.
Chapter Twenty-One
It was dark and quiet, but the air was charged with an electricity that sent shivers through Micayta. She had no idea where she was, or how she came to be there, but somehow she knew she wasn’t alone. There was something else there in the darkness. Something alive. Something watching her.
The darkness erupted in flames. Micayta jumped back, shielding her face with her arm. The flames circled her. The heat was so intense it took her breath. And then the dragon was there before her, crimson scales aglitter, black eyes staring down at her with a mocking expression.
Micayta reached for her dagger, but it wasn’t there. She was alone, weaponless, defenseless, the flames drawing closer, forcing her to choose between being burned alive or inching ever closer to the monstrous dragon.
From out of the darkness came a black wolf, moving between Micayta and the dragon. The wolf had something in its teeth and as it approached, the flames drew back. Micayta held out her hand and the wolf dropped a small, blue stone into her palm. The stone was cold and perfectly round. Its surface pulsed with a pale blue light.
The dragon let out a roar of pure rage and fury, letting loose with a blast of killing fire. There was a blinding flash of white light and then….
Micayta woke with a scream, flailing her arms and legs so that she fell off the small bed and onto the cold floor.
“What’s going on?” Pytaki cried, his voice several octaves higher than normal. “What’s happening?”
Micayta lay on her back, heart hammering wildly in her chest. The heat of the fire felt so close, the grey eyes of the wolf so real.
“Micayta?” Pytaki’s voice was on the edge of panic now.
“It’s okay.” She reached up over the edge of the bed, searching until her hand found his. “I’m fine.” Her throat was so raw and parched she felt as if she’d been breathing fire in her dreams, rather than shrinking from it.
“Are you sure?” Pytaki clung to her hand and his nails bit into her flesh.
“Yes. It was only a dream. Go back to sleep.” She managed to shake off his hand and push herself to her feet despite the tremble in her legs.
She stumbled against the table and almost knocked the lamp oil over in her frantic desperation for light. Not until the lamp was lit and she was standing in the puddle of its light did she draw an easy breath.
Pytaki was sitting up in the bed, the sheets clutched with one hand, eyes wide and bruised-looking in the shadows outside the lamp’s glow. “It sounded like someone was killing you.”
“No one was killing me.” She shivered as she thought of the flames. “I told you, it was a dream.”
“It must have been pretty bad,” he said. “What were you dreaming about?”
“Nothing. Just go back to sleep, okay?”
Pytaki shifted his attention to the closed door. “Where do you think Tech went? It was getting dark already when you kicked him out.”
“How should I know?” She leaned against the table, head hanging. “He probably went back to Alansa.” Yes, she could see him there by the fire with the beautiful silver haired healer, looking lovingly into each other eyes. She pressed her hands a little harder against the tabletop.
“Do you think he’ll come back?”
“Will you please go back to sleep, already? We don’t need him. He’s nothing but trouble.”
Pytaki dropped his gaze to the bed. He seemed about to say something, but he must have thought better of it, because he pressed his lips into a thin line and lay his head back on the nearly flat pillow.
Micayta sat on the floor with her back to the wall, aware that there would be no more sleep for her tonight. Morning couldn’t come soon enough.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Do not open this door for anyone,” Micayta said, giving her brother her sternest obey-me-or-die look.
Pytaki nodded.
“I mean it, little brother. No one. Not even Tech.” Micayta hesitated. “Especially, not Tech. And don’t go downstairs, no matter how hungry you get. Just wait here until I come back.”
“Okay,” he said. “I’m fourteen years old; I think I can manage to spend a few hours alone without getting into trouble.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
Pytaki grinned, a rare sight these days. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
Micayta drew on her cloak. “I won’t be gone long.”
“I’m not worried.”
She was worried. She didn’t like the idea of leaving him alone now, when everything was so jumbled and uncertain. But she could see no way around it. She could hardly drag him all over the city while she looked for a job.
Drawing the hood of her cloak up over her head, Micayta gave her brother one last warning look before pulling the door shut and heading downstairs. She could only hope he would obey her and remain in the relative safety of the room until she returned.
There were a couple of men sitting in the corner, leaned over bowls of steaming stew, and one lone man sitting near the door. Micayta paused at the foot of the stairs as the lone man stood and pushed the hood of his cloak back.
Jaysir smiled. “Good morning, Micayta.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you, of course.”
She frowned. “Why?”
His smile only widened, lighting his eyes. “You’re a suspicious one, aren’t you?” He dropped a coin beside his empty mug. “I thought you might like a little company while job hunting.”
Micayta crossed the common room to where he stood, aware that the two men in the corner were now watching them. “And how did you know where I was staying?”
“As Head of Defense and Commander of the Guard, I make it a point to know such things.”
She considered what the man behind the counter had said the night before and decided it might not be a bad idea to spend a little time with Jaysir to see if she could find out anything without having to actually ask about it.
“I suppose I could use the company.”
“Wonderful.” He offered an arm, which she reluctantly took.
A chill wind stirred eddies of snow around their feet as they stepped outside. It was a gray day, as it was always a gray day, and cold, but the air was clear and sharp. No signs of impending snowfall.
Jaysir drew in a deep breath. “It’s a beautiful day.”
A couple passed by them in threadbare cloaks, huddled together as they walked. Micayta followed them with her eyes. “I’m not sure I’d go so far as beautiful.”
“Yes, well we do what we can for those who seek shelter within Phadra’s walls, but our resources are strained.”
“How long have refuges been coming to the city?”
They moved down the sidewalk. “It started some ten years ago. I was a young guardsman then, about your brother’s age, and I was at the garrison when two wagons came in bearing a dozen passengers between them.
“That was the first we heard of a dragon and it sounded so impossible at the time, but the proof was there before our eyes. All but two of them were badly burned and there was a look in their eyes when they spoke that made it impossible not to believe.”
“What happened to them?”
“Three of the youngest children died. The others were treated by a local healer, a woman named Alansa. She and that man of hers, I think his name is Tech, they’re odd that’s for sure. But she is some kind of healer. Rather amazing actually.”
Micayta kept her gaze focused straight ahead. “The barkeep at the Paradise told me my best bet for a job is New District. Can you show me the way?” Anything to get him off the subject of Alansa and Tech.
“Of course.”
They turned off the street at the next corner and
soon came to a residential area that had clearly once belonged to the very wealthy. Once-grand homes had declined far beyond the point of disrepair. Peeled paint, sagging porches, and cracked marble were only the beginnings of the problems. Judging by the heavy snow drifts and lack of foot traffic, Micayta guessed these homes hadn’t been occupied for some time.
“You won’t find much, even in New District,” Jaysir said, “and what you can find is apt to be of the low paying, back breaking variety.”
“I’m not afraid of hard work.”
He chuckled. “You sound like my mother. Worked every day of her life at some menial task with never a word of complaint. A good woman. A strong woman. But she was old before her time and with so little to show for it.” A bitter note crept into his voice. “That’s why I joined the Guard. To better myself.”
“You certainly did that, and quickly too.”
Jaysir smiled that disarming smile. The one that caused a little flutter in her chest. “Yes I did. It wasn’t easy, but I’m far beyond what my parents were and proud of it.”
Micayta could certainly understand a desire to not be like your parents. “I used to work as a barmaid. Whatever work I find here can’t be worse than that.”
“Things can always be worse.”
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “That’s comforting.”
He laughed. “Forgive me for letting my pessimistic side show.” He gave her an appraising glance. “I’m sure you can handle anything that comes your way.”
Heat crept across her chest as she met his gaze. It was ridiculous; he couldn’t possibly be flirting with her. She didn’t need the benefit of a mirror to know what she must look like, let alone how she must smell. Besides, she didn’t want him flirting with her anyway. Not that she thought he was.
They’d moved past the dilapidated manors to a street lined mostly with empty buildings. Here and there a sign still hung professing what services could be purchased therein, and from these buildings seemed to issue a rather steady flow of customers. Those who passed them along the street took the time to nod at Jaysir before moving on about their business.
“You’re certainly popular,” Micayta said.
“I do my job and I do it well. People can appreciate that.”
“They credit you as the reason the dragon hasn’t attacked Phadra?” She bit her lip as soon as the words were out. She could almost kick herself for mentioning the dragon. She’d meant to see if he would bring it into the conversation.
“I don’t know about that.” There was a slipping to that easy, smiling demeanor and charm.
That slip was enough to prompt her to push a little further. “Would they be right in the assumption?”
A pinched line appeared between his eyes for the briefest of moments, then he was smiling again. Everything easy as you please. “Who knows why a dragon might do whatever a dragon might do. Perhaps the city is simply too large to attack. Perhaps the dragon hasn’t come this far. Whatever the reason, we count ourselves blessed.”
Micayta slowed as they reached an intersection that branched off right and left as well as going on straight. It was to the left that her gaze was drawn, to a street lined once more with homes, these of brick in shades of brown, white, and red. As she stared down this street, her vision blurred and she felt an almost irresistible urge to turn in that direction.
“Micayta?”
She gasped, only now aware that she had been holding her breath, stopped there in the middle of the street. She forced her eyes to focus on Jaysir. “Sorry, I guess my mind was wandering.”
“Am I that boring?” He grinned playfully.
“No. Not at all.”
He lifted an eyebrow, suggesting her tone wasn’t exactly convincing. “Come on, New District isn’t far.”
Micayta glanced over shoulder once as they continued on, not that there was anything to see. At the end of the street they came to the wall which surrounded Phadra. There was an iron gate in this wall that was guarded by two men bearing steel-tipped pikes. The men snapped to attention upon seeing Jaysir.
“At ease,” he said. The men relaxed to an almost normal stance. “My friend and I will be passing into New District for a short time.”
“Yes, sir, commander.” One of the men turned toward the wall, where a wheel had been affixed. This wheel was identical to the one Micayta had seen upon first entering the city and was attached to the gate by a long chain. When the man turned the wheel, the gate lifted almost soundlessly.
Jaysir and Micayta passed beneath the open gate, leaving the road behind them. A shallow trail, clearly worn there by the passing of feet, led from the gate to the haphazardly placed buildings of New District.
“What was that all about?” Micayta asked. “The gate and the guards? Are these people citizens of Phadra or its prisoners?”
Jaysir sighed. “When the refugees first started to arrive they were given shelter in the city proper. But they kept coming. Droves of desperate, frightened people. Until it became a problem for those already living within the city walls. The commander before me extended the walls with use of metal fencing and moved most of the refugees into what he deemed New District. But there was some trouble, hence the gate and the guards. Which reminds me,” he reached into his pocket and withdrew a flat, gold disk scratched with markings that were unfamiliar to Micayta.
“This will enable you to pass freely from the city proper into New District and back again.”
Micayta stared at the disk. “Why would you give this to me?”
“If you come down here on your own, you’ll have to show this to the guards to get through the gate.”
“I understand that. But why are you giving it to me?”
Jaysir chuckled. “Are you always this suspicious or am I a special case?”
“Not suspicious, just cautious. Whenever people offer you something that seems to have no strings attached is when you have to be the most careful. Everyone has ulterior motives.”
“And what ulterior motive do you suspect me of?” A slow smile spread across his face.
Micayta felt the heat rising into her cheeks. A fact that annoyed her greatly. “You tell me.”
“You’re not the first person to be given such a pass, nor are you the first refugee allowed to live outside New District. I’m not like my predecessor. I prefer to take things on a case by case basis. So here,” he held the disk out to her, “try a little trust. It won’t kill you.”
She wasn’t entirely convinced of that, but she took the little disk anyway. “Let’s get on with this.”
“Right this way.”
Two women passed them as they went on, both carrying baskets of laundry upon their shoulders. “Washerwomen,” Jaysir said in answer to Micayta’s unspoken question. “Most likely the only kind of job you’re going to find.”
Micayta glanced back at the women, trying to imagine herself doing such a job. The thought was not an appealing one. Certainly she’d served people while working the “Broken Wing” and had put up with a lot from those who’d had a few too many, but somehow that seemed far preferable to dragging around other people’s laundry all day.
In the New District was an open area, in the center of which sat a well. There were a couple dozen people crammed into the small space; talking, laughing, hawking wares from hand-drawn carts. A few dogs chased their way through the crowd, followed by a string of giggling children.
The square was surrounded by what seemed to be the only thoroughly solid structures in New District, tall buildings of brick whose weathered appearance suggested great age.
“This is the social center of New District. I don’t get down here much, but I can guarantee you’ll learn more about the city on both sides of the gate right here than you will anywhere else.”
Micayta was learning a little something already, simply by observing the difference between the way the people were treating them now and the way they were treated on the other side of the gate.
&n
bsp; Where before there had been nods and smiles, here there were only hostile looks from those who looked their way at all. Mostly they were treated as if they didn’t exist. This gave Micayta the uneasy feeling that she was putting herself at a disadvantage by being seen down here with Jaysir.
Jaysir led her down a side street to a long, one story building. “This is it. The washhouse. It’s your best bet for a job in the city. Unless, you’d rather change your mind?”
She gathered that he meant changing her mind about staying at the garrison, but preferred not to show it. “What other choice do I have?”
He shrugged, smiling. “You never know. Opportunity could be around any corner. You might want to keep your options open for a while; after all, you have plenty of coin left from selling your horse.” He turned back toward the street. “I have to be getting back to my post. Come see me anytime.”
He was halfway up the street before Micayta thought to ask how he knew anything about her selling the horse and she wasn’t about to call him back in order to ask. She had no idea what he was talking about, but she thought his words were something more than idle talk.
A woman came out of the washhouse with a basket of laundry on her shoulder. She looked tired and drawn. Micayta watched her walk up the road and turn the corner. Could she really stand to do that, stand the down looks and the snide comments that were certain to come with such a job? She could bat off a drunken flirt with a touch of amusement, but being looked down at over someone’s nose was apt to rile her temper.
Jaysir was right. She had money enough at the moment, it might be best to look around and keep her eyes open for a better opportunity. Micayta left New District the same way she’d come, though her passing garnered less negative interest with Jaysir no longer at her side.
Micayta showed the small gold disk to the guards at the gate and they let her pass with no trouble. The wind had picked up, whistling around the tall, empty buildings that loomed over her, brooding and silent. She shivered, breath frosting in the chill air.
A sudden cold terror washed over her. This was too much like the night of the dragon’s attack with the empty buildings and the listless wind. Something moved and she whirled, heart leaping into her throat. Nothing but a scrap of trash drifting across the street. She let out a short, sharp laugh that echoed off the buildings.