Past Imperative [Round One of The Great Game]

by Dave Duncan

  Creighton directed the pony down a side road. He made his Hrrnph! noise. “Ultimately the people who are so eager to put your head over their fireplace are the group we refer to as the Chamber. It has no official name and its membership varies from time to time. This is a little hard to ... Look at it this way. You know that His Majesty's Colonial Office doesn't operate in England. The Home Office doesn't operate overseas. But the two would cooperate if—oh, say a dangerous criminal wanted by one of them escaped into the other's territory. They'd pass the word. With me so far?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Well the Chamber doesn't operate here—its members have no power at all in this, er, environment. The Service that I belong to doesn't operate here either, but we're allied with a sort of local branch that we usually refer to as Head Office, although the relationship is informal. We help each other out from time to time—in matters like this, in recruiting, and so on. They were the ones who got your father appointed D.O. at Nyagatha, of course, as a favor to us. He, in turn, did certain favors for them while he was there. The two organizations have similar aims and goals, so we cooperate with them and they with us, but you understand that here I am only a private citizen, with no authority."

  Hrrnph! “Now, the opposition here is as variable and poorly defined as the Chamber—knock one down and two more spring up—but at the moment Head Office is tangled with a really hard bunch they're calling ‘the Blighters.’ It's a very apt description! Blighters here and Chamber there both oppose the aims that the Service and Head Office aspire to, so they're natural allies. It's the Blighters who killed your father and who are after your hide, as a favor to the Chamber."

  Which was all very clear, Edward thought, but it had told him nothing except meaningless names. “Would you mind defining a couple of terms, sir? Where exactly do you mean by ‘here'? If the Service you refer to is not the Colonial Office, then what is it? What sort of people make up the Chamber, and the Blighters?"

  "That's a deuce of a lot of defining. As for what sort of people, well Mr. Goodfellow is one example, although he has always remained neutral until now."

  This was definitely too much to swallow on an empty stomach. “Sir, are you telling me these groups are made up of gods?"

  Creighton sighed. “No, they're not gods, not in the sense you mean. They may act like gods, and they do have supernatural powers. The one you met is a faint shadow of what he would have been in Saxon or Celtic times, and he cured your leg out of kindness, because he'd taken a fancy to you. Snap of the fingers, you might say."

  "If he's not a god, then he's some sort of numen, or woodland spirit, or a demon, or—"

  "He's a man, like us. Born of woman. He's a stranger, that's all."

  "Well certainly! But—"

  "And I won't define ‘stranger’ either. Not yet. He has a store of mana and I'm sure that a long time ago he was much more powerful than he is now. Yet he was probably always a pygmy in his class, whereas some of the Blighters are giants—look what they've achieved in the last month. This bloody war in Europe was provoked by them. Head Office have been struggling to prevent it for years. The Blighters outmaneuvered them. Now it's happened, utter disaster. But on that level the battle is over, and the big bad wallahs can sit back and savor their rewards. They can also turn their attention to other things. Like you."

  Mr. Goodfellow had said very much the same thing about the war, Edward recalled, and whoever or whatever Mr. Goodfellow was, he was no ordinary mortal.

  The dogcart had left the village and was bumping across a common on the far side, heading for some trees by the river.

  "You see,” Creighton added in a terse tone, as if he was tired of explaining things to a very thick child, “part of the trouble has been that both Head Office and the Blighters have been so occupied with political conniving these last few months, that they had no real assets to spare for peripheral matters such as doing favors for friends. That's why they just sent a crazy woman against you. They say she truly is crazy, by the way. She's a Balkan anarchist with a bad case of bloodlust. In other circumstances, they could have disposed of you without any trouble. On the other hand, had things been normal, Head Office could have defended you better."

  "So it canceled out?"

  "Perhaps it did. But now Head Office are in disarray. They have lost badly and will need time to lick their wounds. The Blighters are about to reap an enormous harvest of mana. This is definitely a good time to do a bunk!"

  "But I don't have any choice—” Edward said, and then stopped in astonishment. The dogcart had rounded the trees and was almost into an encampment of Gypsies—half a dozen wagons and a couple of tents. Smoke trickled up from a central fire. Small children were running for cover and several dark-garbed men had turned to inspect the visitors. Gypsies?

  "Any choice of what?” Creighton demanded, reining in the pony.

  "I mean I'm going to enlist, of course. There's a war on!"

  Creighton turned to him with an air of exasperation. “Yes,” he said. “So there is. I've been trying to tell you."

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  35

  "YOU SHOULD HAVE TURNED OUT THE LAMP BEFORE YOU went to sleep,” T'lin grumbled. “Waste of oil. Come on."

  Rubbing her eyes, Eleal stumbled out of the tent behind the big man and hobbled after him as he strode in among the sleeping dragons. There was no sign of Gim or Goober. She was stiff and cold. She must have slept a couple of hours, because the sky was bright, and she could see the mountains. The stars had almost gone, but Ysh's tiny blue half disk and Eltiana's fiery point still shone. It was going to be a fine day.

  "This is Lightning,” T'lin said, stopping so suddenly Eleal almost bumped into him. The dragon twisted his long neck around to inspect her. She rubbed the big browridges automatically, and he snorted warm hay scent at her, perhaps approving of her size.

  T'lin inspected the girths. “He's not as young as he used to be, but he's wise, and he won't even notice your weight.” He lifted Eleal effortlessly to the saddle and began adjusting the stirrup leathers.

  "Hill straps?” she said apprehensively. Lightning was large, making her feel very far from the ground already. She had never ridden except on the flat. Truth be told, her riding experience could be described as extremely limited.

  "Just buckle them loose for now, so they don't flap. I'll tell you when to tighten them. There. Now let's see how far you can make him go. That way.” He pointed west, upstream.

  "That's not the way to Rilepass."

  T'lin's big hand closed fiercely on her knee. His face in the twilight was hard as rock. “I know that, Little Missy. And understand one thing: You don't argue or talk back on this journey, all right? This isn't a joyride to amuse a usefully nosy little child anymore. This is serious, and I didn't ask for the job of rescuing you."

  "I'm sorry."

  "Good.” He snorted. “Your business is costing me a lot of money. It may cost me my life, or even my soul. And when I say ‘Do this!’ you do it. Don't waste a moment. Clear?"

  If he was trying to frighten her, he was succeeding. She had never heard him speak so sternly. “Yes, Dragontrader.” She gripped the pommel plate with chilled fingers. “Lightning, Wondo!"

  Lightning turned his head around again and stared at her with big eyes, their glow still just visible in the fast-brightening dawn.

  "Wondo!” Eleal shouted.

  Lightning lifted his head high and looked over the rest of the herd. Then he faced Eleal and yawned insolently, showing teeth as big as her hand.

  "Shouting doesn't help,” T'lin sighed. “Kick him."

  Eleal kicked in her heels. “Wondo! Zaib!"

  Uttering a muffled belch of disgust, Lightning lurched to his feet and Eleal found herself staring down at the top of T'lin Dragontrader's turban. The dragon strolled insolently forward, picking his way between his sleeping mates, but in a moment he began to curve around. He did not want to leave the herd.

  With much kicking and
directions of Whilth! and Chaiz! she directed him to the open meadow and tried Varch! He eased into a feeble pretence at a run, but in a moment he looked behind him and slowed down again. Then he began to curve to the left. Eleal drummed her heels on his scales and scolded. He straightened momentarily but soon started edging around to the right. In a few minutes she admitted defeat, afraid she was about to be taken ignominiously all the way back. “Wosok!” she said, and was relieved when her stubborn mount accepted the compromise. He lay down, still disgustingly close to the herd and facing toward it.

  Another dragon had risen from the mass and was approaching at a slow run. It came willingly as far as Lightning, and then balked. Gim shouted angrily; Eleal was secretly pleased that he did no better than she had done. His mount settled on the grass, nose-to-nose with Lightning as if to compare notes on this disgraceful waste of valuable sleeping time.

  "Stupid lizards!” Gim muttered. His pack and lyre were strapped alongside the baggage plate at his back. His face was pale and unweathered under the black turban, unconvincing as the face of a wrangler. “Why all this wosok and varch stuff anyway? Why not teach them to understand good, honest Joalian?"

  Eleal restrained a snigger—what Gim Wrangler spoke was a long way from true Joalian. “Because common words like ‘run’ may differ between the dialects. The dragon commands are the same all over the Vales, and they're very old. So T'lin says,” she added to forestall argument.

  Gim grunted.

  "You'll like Sussland,” she said cheerfully. “It's much warmer and more fertile than Narshland."

  "And the people riot all the time."

  "Sussia's a democracy.” She hoped that was the right word. “They meet every year to elect the magistrates."

  "So do we. The adult men, anyway."

  "But in Narsh the elections are a foregone conclusion. In Suss it's always a free-for-all. So T'lin says."

  Gim mumbled something sadistic about the dragon trader, ending the conversation. The two of them sat in shivering silence, not even looking at each other.

  The east was growing brilliant and color had returned to the world. Lightning was revealed as a nondescript dun, Gim's mount was a glacier white. Eleal realized that the city gate was clearly visible now, so she must be visible to the guards on the parapet. Eventually she could stand the quiet no longer. “He's not bringing the whole herd?"

  "Evidently not.” Gim twisted around in his saddle to see what was happening. Nothing was. “Maybe they're going to head off in the opposite direction after we leave,” he added, sounding as if he'd just thought of that. “Lay a false trail."

  Then a third dragon emerged from the herd and came racing toward them. It was dark-colored and soon recognizable as Starlight, but he seemed to have no rider. He slowed as he reached the watchers. Someone cried, “Zomph!” shrilly, and he continued on at a smooth run.

  "Gods preserve me!” Gim said, kicking angrily. “Wondo, Beauty, you scaly horror! Zomph!"

  Beauty and Lightning rose as one, taking off after the newcomer. The meadow rushed past so fast that the wind seemed to fade away. Dragons were a smooth ride.

  "Zomph!” Gim yelled again, but Beauty and Lightning were already going flat out. Gradually Beauty fell behind, despite Gim's curses. Starlight was still pulling ahead, making a race of it.

  Then he veered to avoid a clump of bushes and Eleal caught sight of a small figure cowering over in the saddle, almost hidden by a bulky pack strapped to the baggage plate. Garments streamed in the wind, stirrup leathers and hill straps were flapping free. The light flashed on a strip of steel, but she had already guessed that the rider must be Sister Ahn.

  Apparently Gim had not realized that T'lin was missing. He could do nothing about it even if he did. Eleal twisted around and stared back at the dawn. Already the camp was invisible and the city was receding into the distance, with the spires of the temple dominating its skyline. Another dragon was coming in pursuit.

  The old woman must certainly be crazy. She would be killed if she fell off. “Zomph!” Eleal yelled, kicking madly. Lightning could go no faster, though. He was breathing hard, while white steam poured from his nostrils. Starlight was younger.

  The river had disappeared. The bizarre little caravan was racing along an obvious track now, with scattered cottages and dry stone walls. The hills of Narshslope marched alongside to the north, drawing no closer. The sun rose suddenly and in minutes the dragons were chasing their own long shadows over dry wheel ruts and scraggly grass.

  So Eleal Singer had escaped from Narsh, if not yet from Narshvale. As far as she could remember, the western end was closed. Rilepass led north to Sussland and Fandorpass east to Lappinland. There were other passes to the south that she did not know, leading to Tholand and Randorland, but she recalled none to the west. Soon she thought she could see brightness in the distance, probably morning sun sparkling on the dew-wet thatch roofs of a village. That must be where this road went, and probably where it ended.

  Then a largish stream blocked the way. The trail dipped to a ford and Starlight balked, because dragons disliked water. He wheeled around, apparently with no objection from his rider. Lightning made gasping sounds of approval, and slowed. The three dragons came together, uttering joyous roars, nuzzling each other in greeting.

  Gim's jaw dropped when he saw the old woman crumpled in the saddle. He leaped down, shouting “Wosok, Starlight! Wosok!"

  Eleal made Lightning crouch before she dared dismount, and then she went to help Gim. The old woman seemed unconscious, but her twisted hands still held a fierce grip on her staff and the pommel plate. Carefully avoiding the sharp-looking sword, the youngsters dragged her from the saddle and lowered her to the grass like a heap of washing.

  She blinked up at them, her eyes watering. When she spoke, though, her creaky voice sounded amazingly calm. “The Maiden be with you, child. Introduce your friend."

  "Gim Wrangler, Sister."

  "He is not mentioned,” Sister Ahn proclaimed, as if dismissing Gim from consideration. She struggled up to a sitting position and began tucking white strands of hair back under her wimple.

  "He rescued me from the temple."

  "The god rescued her!” Gim said.

  Sister Ahn nodded. “Praise to the Youth. But the Maiden is worthy of thanks also. I did not injure the dragon with my sword, did I?"

  Gim bent and inspected Starlight's flank. Starlight turned round and puffed grass-scented steam at him.

  "A couple of faint scratches on his scales. Nothing serious."

  "How did you make him leave the herd?” Eleal demanded.

  "I gave him some nice hay and told him how beautiful he was. It is always best to pay in advance, whenever possible."

  "The dragon trader didn't know, did he?” Eleal said.

  Sister Ahn frowned at her, and then suddenly smiled. Probably her smile was well intentioned, but it seemed just as gruesome as it had two days ago, involving much crunching of wrinkles and a display of lonely yellow teeth. “Sometimes action must come before explanation,” she explained wryly. “I always wanted to try a ride on a dragon!"

  She took a firm grip on her staff and held out an arm. Gim helped her rise, studying her with rank disbelief.

  "You've never done it before?"

  "I implied that, did I not? Had I not overheard you, young man, I would not have known the correct command. Now, what place is that?” Apparently her watery eyes were not as useless as they seemed.

  "Morby, sister. Just a little place."

  "Never heard of it.” Her tone implied that it was therefore of no consequence.

  "It has a wonderful bakery,” Gim said wistfully.

  The fourth dragon arrived in a scramble of claws, being greeted by belches from the others. T'lin Dragontrader seemed to hit the ground running before it had even stopped. His face was flushed with fury and he towered over the nun.

  Sister Ahn attempted to straighten, but the move merely emphasized her hump. Her long nose was about l
evel with the middle of his chest.

  "You stole my dragon!” His fists were clenched.

  "Borrowed it, merely. Time was short and you would have argued."

  "By the moons, I would have argued! And now I suppose you expect to accompany us to Sussland?"

  He was speaking much louder than usual. The dragons were all watching curiously. Eleal caught Gim's eye. He did not seem to know whether to be amused or concerned. Neither did she.

  "Accompany you? I don't know anything about you,” the old woman proclaimed. “You are not mentioned. It is written, Before the festival, Eleal will come into Sussvale with the Daughter of Irepit. This is Thighday. The festival begins tonight, does it not? You don't expect to negate holy prophecy when the goddess Ois failed, do you?"

  T'lin shook his fists futilely and then grabbed his beard with both hands as if to keep them from doing violence to the maddening old woman. Starlight was Dragontrader's personal mount. They had been together as long as Eleal could remember. She had never seen rage portrayed so clearly, not even when Trong Impresario played Kaputeez in The Vengeance of Hiloma.

  "Is that so? Really so? As I understand your discipline, sisters of the sword always offer value in return for service."

  Sister Ahn nodded complacently. “Always."

  "Today the price for passage to Sussland is one million stars, payable in advance!” T'lin pushed his bristling red beard almost into her face. “Well?"

  She raised hairless brows. “Or something greater?"

  "Greater? Name it!"

  "Your life, my son. Without me you would presently be chained in the city cells."

  T'lin made a choking noise.

  "Why do you think the guard did not come after you?” she asked pityingly. “Do you believe they are all so stupid, or that the priests of Our Lady are?"

  T'lin wavered. “What did you do?"

  "I told them I had seen a black dragon with two people aboard climbing over the wall and heading in the direction of Nimpass. A mounted patrol left immediately and all the rest went back to—"

  "You lied?"