The Birthday Dragon

by Lee Abrey

  “This is private, Azrael,” said Nanny Black.

  “No, Nanny,” said Azrael, “it’s my fault.” We both turned to look at him. He shrugged. “If Mother’s going to go after my friends I’m allowed to talk about it.” He put on an innocent face. “I might have been traumatised,” he added, then spoiled the innocent look by looking smug. I couldn’t believe it.

  “You told everyone?” I said. “What in Galaia’s name for?” Nanny looked shocked.

  “Revenge,” Azrael said, and turned to walk out. I grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him back. It made him wince but I didn’t care.

  “Don’t you walk away from me!”

  “It wasn’t revenge on you, Polo,” he said, quietly, rubbing where my fingers had dug in, “you were collateral damage.” I wanted to weep. Anger and sorrow were biting at me in equal parts.

  “How did you even know?” I said.

  “After I went to see you,” he said, “you collected that silk wrap of Mother’s from the lounge. No reason to do it if it wasn’t her in your room.”

  “Gods,” I said, feeling sick, “Azrael, aside from being exceptionally nasty to your mother, you do understand I might end up being thrown out? The king doesn’t like Saraia.”

  “Aye,” said Nanny, angry with Azrael now, “did you think of that while you were being mean to your mother? Not very princely of you.” Azrael started shouting that if Saraia wanted special treatment she could act like the princess she was supposed to be.

  “What do you think a princess is,” said Nanny, sounding annoyed, “some doll who sits in a tower? Stupid boy! She’s entitled to some fun.”

  “She gets plenty of fun,” said Azrael, sounding equally annoyed, “she doesn’t have to do my friends!” Nanny looked at me.

  “Were you forced?” she said, and I sighed.

  “Of course I wasn’t forced,” I said finally, “I’m not discussing this. Out of my room, both of you. You want to shout at Azrael, Nanny, go take him into his own room.” Azrael was pouting at me. Nanny was glowering at Azrael. “I will not be drawn into this,” I said, “I did nothing wrong.” I gave Azrael a dirty look. “Unlike some people.”

  They wouldn’t move, so I left. One of the doctors was walking down the corridor. I checked with him, was there any reason for me to stay there? He said providing I came back once a day for a blood pressure check, I could go back to my quarters. I grabbed an empty box and went back into my room, which Nanny and Azrael were just leaving, still shouting at each other.

  I left a note on the bed, threw my books and other bits and pieces into the box, then used a wheelchair to carry it back across the citadel to my quarters. There I could lock the door. It wouldn’t keep Bernard or the other servants out as they had master keys, but gave me privacy. Bernard said he was going for lunch, so I asked him to drop the wheelchair back on the way.

  ****

  From the main entrance, I limped with my stick down to the stables, downhill all the way and taking my time. I found Magpie and his tack, which wasn’t hard as he started whinnying to tell me where he was, and his gear was in the main tack room on a neatly labelled saddle rack.

  I didn’t plan to walk more so left my stick hooked over his stable door. Saddling and bridling wasn’t easy but Magpie was very polite, lowering his head for the bridle and not trying to nip me or evade anything. Again I was sure he knew I wasn’t well and was favouring me.

  We went exploring Peterhaven. I hadn’t ridden round it, only gone to specific places. There was a lot to see. I remembered my charge accounts and began to regret leaving the stick behind. The temptation to get off and explore was huge, but I stayed in the saddle, figuring my leg would thank me for it, noting places to come back to. Magpie was enjoying himself, swaggering along. I noticed a pretty girl looking at me from the pavement. I smiled a little at her. She nudged her friend and I heard her say something like,

  “Look, it’s him, the one who saved the prince!” Someone near her heard it. They stopped to stare, told others why they were staring, and then there were people shouting my name and saying,

  “It’s the boy who saved the Crown Prince!”

  “Well done, lad!”

  “Thet save the king!”

  “A hero,” called someone, “can I buy you a drink?” Everyone started cheering and before I knew what was happening, they surged into the street, which Magpie took as a declaration of war. I barely controlled him as he plunged, trying to bite and kick. I desperately reined and heeled him out of there, shouting apologies, thanks, and more apologies. You weren’t supposed to go above a trot in the city but I pushed him into a canter for half a block before slowing back to a trot. I looked back over my shoulder.

  People were standing in the street waving and I waved back, glad Magpie hadn’t killed anyone. It spooked the horse, and me. I decided it was probably better to go back to the citadel. For all Azrael and I joked about me being famous in Peterhaven, it had never occurred to me that I was known outside the tiny circle of the citadel.

  That people on the street would be trying to buy me drinks and calling me a hero, well, I didn’t know what to do. I would wear something that looked like a groom’s clothes next time, with perhaps a hat, so people wouldn’t notice me. Magpie snorted.

  “Yes,” I said aloud, “and we’ll paint you all one colour.”

  ****

  Chapter 32 - Something Stupid

  At the citadel gate, I knew one of the men on duty and was waved through. I was so relieved to be home. The mob scene in Peterhaven had been unsettling. I wondered when Citadel Hill began to be home. It was the end of the first week of January and I’d been there since early September.

  Riding up the short steep path to the stables instead of the hairpins they had for the coaches, I decided that walking all the way back to the citadel uphill was asking for trouble, so I collected a groom to ride Magpie back, and remembered to get my walking stick too. The groom, a man I knew named Roger, was sitting side-saddle up behind and we were talking about Magpie’s bloodlines, which he knew more about than I did, having worked at the Acordia stud the stallion came from, so I was rather interested.

  About a hundred feet ahead of us someone was having trouble with a stocky bay cob, a very solid animal, large for a pony and small for a horse, up to taking an adult’s weight despite its smaller size. As Roger and I stopped talking, the frankly circular rider was pitched off onto the roadway. Although a spongy bioplas, it was plenty hard enough when you fell on it. I told Roger to hold on, touched my heels to Magpie and he sped up, so we were right there when the boy did it.

  Still holding onto his whip and the reins, he got up and began to thrash the cob, which tried to get out of the way. The boy kept a tight and cruel hold on the bit while he lashed the poor creature across the face and neck. The groom and I were of one mind.

  Roger was off Magpie and running towards the lad, shouting at him to stop. The boy saw us, hit the cob one more time and then began to cry. I was a bit slower dismounting but hobbled up fast, leaning on my stick. I stared. It wasn’t a child, it was Azrael’s half-brother, Young Perry. He was very short, only about five feet tall, something I hadn’t really noticed in the hospital, and incredibly wide.

  “H-he bit me!” said Young Perry. “You saw it! The p-pony b-bit me! He’s savage! H-he should be put down!” For a second the groom and I stared, astonished at the nerve of him. Then I snapped.

  “Lying little toad!” I said. “He did not! Give me the reins, you’re not getting anywhere near a horse again until you learn how to treat one!”

  “I saw it,” said Roger, “he didn’t bite you, but even if he did, you do not hit a horse like that and you never hit a horse around the head!” I snatched the reins. A crafty look came over Young Perry’s face and he lashed at me with the whip. I jerked back but the thong caught me across the cheek, narrowly missing my eye. Any normal person I’d have hit him with my walking stick, but he was a good foot shorter than I was, and second-in-line to
the throne, so I resisted the urge. Turned out I could have hit him anyway as I was about to be accused of it.

  “Help!” he screamed. “Help! Murder! Help! Help!” He kept screaming. The groom and I looked at each other.

  “Sometimes,” Roger said to me, looking thoughtful, “if you wish for it, it comes true.” I smiled and asked him to hold my stick. Then I waded straight in, ignoring pain from my arm and hip and blocking Young Perry’s attempts to whip me. I dropped him hard, facedown onto the bioplas. Then I thrashed him across the arse with his own whip as hard as he’d hit the cob and as many times. I hit him one last time.

  “And that’s for hitting me in the face, you nasty little pillock,” I said, “Roger?” I offered the crop. The groom grinned.

  “My turn? Reckon another five good strokes are what any boy who hit a defenceless animal deserves. Only you were a bit soft on him, lordship, reckon the little turd deserves it harder.”

  At which point Young Perry tried to get away. I think he was confused, because he came straight at me across the ground, bawling and squealing. Roger gave chase and got in a couple of hits then saw something behind me, shouted a warning, and I spun round. I’d completely forgotten about Magpie.

  He was already twitchy, now some Giant Slug wriggling towards me was more than he could bear. Magpie snaked his big head, teeth bared, making squealing sounds, stamping his hooves then half-rearing, pawing at the air, trying to get past me to get at the boy. I leapt in front of Young Perry, shouting and waving my arms at my horse.

  By the time Roger and I caught Magpie, who was determined to stamp on the Giant Slug and mystified as to why we wouldn’t let him, there was a crowd gathering and Young Perry was still screaming about being murdered.

  As Young Perry was now accusing me of trying to kill him and demanding Magpie and the vicious cob were put down, the king was notified. Both Perry’s histrionics and the way he stuck to his story were remarkable. I was glad the king knew me and also lucky that Roger the groom was part of it all. Being a peasant he was considered a good witness and above any Blood feuds.

  As more witnesses from every class came down from the citadel or across from the new fort, it became very apparent that Young Perry was lying. People in the crowd kept saying aye, they saw it, the groom and the blonde lad were telling the truth.

  Even with more than fifty eyewitnesses saying he was lying, Young Perry still wouldn’t shut up. It was a plot, probably started by Azrael, to kill him. I had to stand for some time while it was sorted out but then was allowed to resume my journey back to the citadel. I handed Magpie over to Roger, who already had the cob, and he gave me my stick.

  “I’ll put some arnica and witchhazel on this one’s nose, poor bugger,” he said, “keep the bruising down a bit. He’ll not be fit to ride for a few days. Hope the poor thing doesn’t end up head-shy.” Roger winked at me. “And Magpie gets carrots for being such a good boy.” I laughed.

  I decided to walk back with Theo, who had sent Young Perry off to the infirmary to be checked out, with some guards to protect him.

  “Nothing wrong with him, of course,” said the king, “but had to do something to shut him up.” He grimaced. “Nothing worse than a whiner. And cruel to animals? His mother’s brought him up all wrong.” I nodded politely though personally I thought there was more wrong with Young Perry than an over-indulgent mother could answer for. “He can’t stop eating, you know,” the king said, and shook his head. “The servants got tired of being sent to the kitchens in the middle of the night, and keep at least three meals in the suite ready to go for after midnight. If they don’t have food for him all the time, he starts bawling, throws himself round in tantrums.”

  “At his age?” I said. “Maybe the boy does need a doctor, that doesn’t sound healthy.” Theo grimaced again.

  “His mother says it’s puppy fat.” I managed not to laugh. Puppy fat was a normal chunkiness which mortified the person with it but disappeared with full adolescence, and of course people carried different amounts of fat, some were just plump, others thin, it was how our bodies were. However, then there was obesity, and Young Perry was several times the size he should have been, especially widthways.

  “Well, living here,” I said, “getting some exercise, all the walking, that’s got to help.” I didn’t think he’d lost any weight since he arrived, quite the opposite. Theo shook his head.

  “I caught him having a pony sent to outside his rooms,” said the king, “so he could ride round the citadel to meals and the baths, after we banned him eating main meals in his rooms.” I shook my head too. “There’s something wrong with that boy,” he went on, “Gods forbid he ever has to be even the heir, let alone king. He might be my grandson too, but Azrael needs to breed and soon.”

  I wondered if Theo knew I’d done Saraia, and as if reading my mind, he said, “Heard about you and that southern witch.” I wondered if I’d misheard him. Had he said bitch? He made a shrugging motion. “You’re a good influence on the boy.” I smiled though I had no idea how tumbling Azrael’s mother made me a good influence on her son.

  “I try to be,” I said. Theo laughed.

  “People tried to tell me you were gay,” he said. I decided to be honest.

  “I’ll do almost anything, sire, but I like women.” He thought I was very funny and clapped me on the back.

  Bewildered, I wandered on with him, chatting about this and that. Though it sounds as if we were alone, he had eight guards, a private secretary and various Hangers On with him, about twenty people altogether.

  ****

  Chapter 33 – Gossip

  Back in my suite, with Bernard’s help I had a wash, changed, and almost immediately there was a knock on the door.

  “Anyone you don’t want to see?” said Bernard. I shrugged.

  “A few,” I said, “but don’t worry, unless they’re armed, let them in.”

  “Afternoon, Highness,” I heard Bernard say and braced myself. Which of the various highnesses around the place was it? At least two of them were probably angry with me. I heard Azrael say hello. “Are you armed, Highness?”

  “No, Bernard,” said Azrael, sounding puzzled.

  “Very well, Highness, you may enter.” Azrael came in, followed by two of the big black cats, who walked past him and into the suite, disappearing towards my bedroom. Azrael followed more slowly, looking back over his shoulder at Bernard. Then he looked at me.

  “Can we talk privately, Polo?” he said.

  “I don’t know,” I said honestly, “I think my rooms are a sieve when it comes to privacy.”

  “I meant without Bernard here,” he said.

  “Oh, sure,” I said, “Bernard, is it afternoon tea yet?”

  “It is, lordship,” he said, “shall I order you something?”

  “No, we’ll go down,” I said. Azrael looked at me.

  “I do need to talk to you, privately,” he said, and I nodded.

  “We’ll go outside,” I said, “but I missed lunch, I need some food.” Bernard left. “It’s alright, Azrael,” I said, “I was angry earlier but after what I’ve just been through with your half-brother I’m thinking your behaviour, though silly, was mild in comparison.”

  “With my half-brother?” he said.

  For once the gossip hadn’t reached Azrael before I could tell him, so we caught up on my adventures on the walk to the tearoom, collected some trays, and loaded ourselves up with coffee and snacks. Theo was there and nodded and waved, we waved back and jerked our heads at the outside. He waved us out.

  We took trays out into the park, finding a quiet spot in the shade where we were reasonably sure nobody could see us. If they couldn’t see us, they couldn’t lip-read. We had no guards. There was no current security alert, and Azrael was considered safe inside the citadel grounds. For a while we sat and ate.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, finally.

  “You’ve got cake crumbs on your chin,” I said. He sighed and wiped his chin on his sleeve. “
It’s alright,” I said, “I think I know why you did it.” I paused. “And it wasn’t vengeance on your mother.” He nodded. “You were feeling nasty though,” I went on, “but it’s because you love me.”

  He looked at his fingers. I didn’t blame him. Being outed as ‘in love’ when the other person doesn’t reciprocate is hard to look in the eye.

  “I could cope with most things,” he said, “anyone you might love. But not with that.” He paused, his voice a whisper. “I’m sorry, Polo, I tried not to. To love you.” I smiled, reached over, and patted his hand.

  “Aye,” I said, “I know.” I sighed. I squeezed his hand then moved mine away. “I don’t love you, Azrael, not like that. Not like a lover.” His voice was still a whisper.

  “Say the word,” he said, “I’ll run away with you. I will, Polo. I don’t care about the kingdom. We could be just us and I wouldn’t have to be a prince.” I’d be happy to go but I didn’t love him. I set my heart to be like stone.

  “You’ll get over me,” I said. He looked mutinous. The scar down his cheek made him look harder and his thinness added to it. He was no longer the pretty boy I did in the woods. A lean young man had replaced him.

  “I won’t,” he said. I grinned.

  “Don’t close your mind to it,” I said. I knew enough about life to know that he and I knew nothing, not about love. Not much about most of life either, but love in particular.

  “You’re not over me,” he said. I shook my head.

  “Nothing to get over,” I said, “I love you as a friend. Not as anything more.”

  “Don’t close your mind to it,” he said, and I laughed. A robin landed on the grass, looking hopeful, and I flicked some cake crumbs toward it. I sighed and turned to look at Azrael.

  “What part of, ‘you have to marry and your wife has to bear children’, don’t you understand?” I said. “Without your children, the kingdom has no heirs, or at least none it wants.” He gave me a long look. “With your half-brother next in line,” I said, remembering Theo’s words, “you need to sire something, quickly.”