Dragon Choir

by Benjamin Descovich

  “Forget the red powder, you’re supposed to be helping.”

  Delik huffed. “If the prophecy of the Key isn’t helping, there must be another prophecy that mentions the Key?”

  “Only my own.”

  “Well, what is the problem? There must be some daft riddle in it that gives you an idea.”

  Minni was quiet. Saying it over in her head, keeping it to herself. She had the nerve to chastise him about trust. Delik had never heard a peep about the prophecy of the Lock. She kept her mouth shut about her own while she nagged him and Tikis about theirs.

  If Ona planted a seed, it would grow; life was simple. The Muden of Gren could not sway the will of the gods with their prophecy. Who were they to think stirring the pot of portent and scooping out winners would alter the outcome of the struggle? The gods would do as they pleased and he would do what was right for his people. He’d fight the Lord himself if it returned Ona’s sacred soils back to his kin.

  Delik drained the last of his tea. “Bah! Keep it to yourself then. Prophecy is getting us lost in our own importance.” He reached for the pot to pour another, offering Minni a refill first. Her cup was full, though her plate was empty. Delik noticed his own plate remained untouched. So he ate, enjoying the sharp cheese and sour pickle.

  Minni sipped her tea, leaning back in her chair. “Maybe so, maybe because we are important.”

  “So we are tools of the gods then. A scythe to reap, a shovel to dig a grave.”

  “Why not keep those tools oiled and sharp, so that they do a better job.”

  “What would the old Muden of Gren say if they heard you call them sacred oily rags of Ona? Fit only to keep rust from our blades, that we better serve her will.”

  “In your case they’d prefer to be a whetstone and hone out that dull edge.”

  “You’re the one who can’t figure out your job. Take a sharpening yourself!”

  Elrin walked down the steps of the house, his eyes still clouded with sleep. “What are you sharpening?”

  Minni’s freckled cheeks hinted red. “How long have you been up?” Her eyes were wide, worried the Calimskan might have caught a whisper of their conversation.

  “Just now. I’ve a splitting headache. Did I sleep long?”

  “Not long enough it seems.” Delik waved him over. “Pull up a chair, I’ll pour you a tea.”

  Elrin took a seat and thanked Delik for the warm brew. “I was thinking about what Kobb asked Pelegrin at dinner last night. You know, about the black powder.”

  Minni gave Delik a slight nod. She didn’t think Elrin had overheard them, though her winsome eyes for the young man betrayed a bias to that conclusion.

  Delik passed Elrin his half eaten plate of food. “What were you thinking?”

  “For one thing, you rarely see cannon on ships docked at Calimska, and there are none on our battlements. We don’t use them. Yet Pelegrin says the Jandans get their black powder from us. Don’t you think that’s strange?”

  “I guess the Guildmaster thinks a fireball from a sorcerer is better than shot from a cannon,” suggested Minni.

  “Maybe. But, Calimska doesn’t trade in shell like coasters. We trade in precious metals. The Guildmaster’s golden shield protects us through dragon season and before him we had Daniakesh; our patron dragon.”

  Delik liked the way Elrin thought. He had a knack for seeing a problem from a different angle. His Calimskan blood painted him inquisitive, but he hadn’t been stained by the arrogant superiority most shiners wore with pride. “So what are you getting at?”

  “How is Jando paying for the black powder and cannon? Shell wouldn’t make trade, neither would bone. Are they trading in treasure, from here?”

  Delik shook his head. “The only gold they’d have would be from the Surrender Moon. That wouldn’t balance the trade. No lad, it’s slaves and livestock. Jandans see them all the same. Wagons full of my people are sent under heavy guard to Calimska. Separate wagons are loaded full of black powder. They’ve been doing it for years.”

  “I’ve lived in Calimska all my life and the only shankakin I’ve seen are labourers and traders, never a slave. The hamlets and farms around Calimska have plenty of livestock. Why would we trade something so powerful that we don’t use, for something that we don’t need? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “They’re moved on to inlanders for profit. I’ve witnessed the inlanders take them myself,” said Minni. “Calimska must collect the shine from them.”

  “We don’t have slaves. It’s illegal to keep a life.”

  Delik tapped his finger on the table. “What rot! Calimska still has slaves. If I had the shine I could march to the trading post and buy one right now!”

  Elrin wrestled to find the right words, at pains to defend the City of Gold. “It’s legal to buy slaves from outside the city walls, like at the trading post, but once bought, they are free. They usually work for their buyer to earn a living and are free to leave as they wish; it’s really a market for cheap labourers. I’ve heard stories where men with cruel intentions have abused the laws, but it’s more common for wealthy houses to buy slaves just to free them. They dress them up and parade them around. It improves their standing in society. Shows we are above all that.”

  Minni crossed her arms. “So, either guild authorities are breaking their own laws and selling Jandan slaves for a profit or they are buying them from Jando and giving them away to inland traders.”

  Delik wished he had better information about what happened after Calimska received the slaves. Minni had her eyes in the city, but spies were expensive in the golden nest and rarely worth the shine. It was a tough job knowing what to ask if you didn’t know what you were looking for. “Calimska is involved nonetheless. It doesn’t change anything.”

  “Doesn’t change what?” Elrin’s face was an annoying cross of curiosity and expectation.

  “The slave trade in Jando is only half the problem. We’ve tried to stop the convoys sending slaves to Calimska with raids, but they were too well guarded and we suffered heavy losses. For our plan to succeed we have to stem the flow of black powder. It is the only way to weaken the Jandans for the long term. It is their power. It brings them more slaves, and buys them more powder. To free the people we have to stop the powder.”

  “I want to help you. I know my way around.”

  “I thank you lad. We could use your help, but that dead letter will be a problem. We’ll have to dig a way around it and get you home.”

  Elrin got out of his seat and wrapped his arms around Delik in an awkward, but brief, back-slapping hug. The young man grinned like a boy flying a kite.

  “Bloody shiner’s and your customs! A hand shake’s fine enough for most.” Delik cleared his throat. “Alright then, that’s enough of the nonsense. We’ve got a spot of work to do here first.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  A Letter

  Elrin stacked a slice of cheese and a pickle. “What of Amber and Hurn? Shouldn’t they know about this? They could help too.”

  “Not yet,” said Delik. “Keep this to yourself for now. They’ve both just found a moment of freedom. I’ll not burden that child with any more than I have to and I’m not sure Hurn would understand the greater plan.”

  “Hurn’s no fool,” said Elrin, adamant the ogre was smarter than he appeared. “And Amber is the Key to working the Dragon Choir. You have to let her know what you want it for. It’s the right thing to do.”

  Delik crossed his arms, scalding Minni with a disapproving glare.

  “Don’t give me that look!” Minni wasn’t to be left wearing Delik’s objection alone. “I thought Elrin could help me interpret the prophecy from a different angle. He thinks Amber is the key.”

  Delik huffed, reframing his glare on the young man. “Is that right?”

  Elrin squirmed, but didn’t back down from his hypothesis. “Who else could it be? She fits the prophecy perfectly. We have to tell her sometime.”

  “This prophecy b
usiness is Minni’s charge. She will make that decision.”

  A deep rumble of Hurn laughing rolled down the pier, interrupting the conversation.

  Delik pointed his finger at Elrin. “Not a word.”

  Elrin chuckled and nodded. “Fine, I’ll keep quiet, but you’re being far too cautious. She’d help us more if she knew.”

  “Caution has kept me alive so far.” Delik collected the empty plates and stacked them on a side bench. “Only a fool trusts a smile alone.”

  The cottage lurched, sliding the plates towards the edge. Delik caught them before they fell to the floor while outside, Amber’s giggles bubbled though the air, propelled in a fit of hysterics. Hurn’s indelicate footfalls hurried to the centre of the deck, levelling the cottage again, but drawing loud protest from each timber that bore his weight.

  Elrin ran to the door just as Hurn pounded out a knock that almost shook it off its hinges. A gentle knock from the ogre would wake the dead. He opened the still quivering door and was greeted by a pair of contagious grins.

  “Well, look at you two!” Elrin crossed his arms with mock disappointment. “Did Kobb send you off already? Causing a ruckus were you Amber?”

  Amber giggled then shook her head, nudging Hurn to say something.

  Hurn obliged her. “Kobb says finished lifts for today. Says, go.”

  “That was quick,” said Minni.

  “No whips, no chains. Hurn Ga Kogh move fast.” Hurn sized up the doorway and frowned. He stooped and twisted his body sideways, half crawling to get through.

  Amber was taken by another giggling fit.

  Delik hustled over and stood in front of the ogre, their eyes level, preventing him from crawling inside. “Easy lad! You’ll get yourself stuck in here. Wait outside, would you.”

  Amber stopped her giggles and helped Hurn to back out.

  Elrin smoothed over Delik’s abrasive direction. “Why don’t we all sit out on the deck? We don’t want you getting stuck outside with two fearsome warriors all by yourselves.”

  While the rest of them sat down amongst the planters on the deck, Delik set to work. He made a quick circuit picking ripe tomatoes, curly kale and fresh green beans from the little garden. Lastly, he plucked a handful of herbs then busied himself about the kitchen, chopping and boiling and frying.

  The air soon filled with delicious aromas of warm spices, frying garlic and onions. Delik knew his way around a kitchen. He called for Elrin to help hand out plates full of steaming vegetables. Spiced potatoes occupied one side and a fry up of kale, tomato and beans, the other. Elrin’s stomach groaned even though he had not long had a snack.

  Delik handed two overloaded plates to Hurn. “I hope this is better than what the Jandans served.”

  Hurn sniffed it before he ate. His face lit up.

  “That’s it lad, tuck in.”

  Elrin took a plate each for Tikis and Fjhor who still sat on the pier. They both refused the food until Delik intervened and insisted, bringing a wineskin to share amongst them.

  Tikis skewered the spiced potatoes on his claws and dropped them into his mouth, slavering the morsels down. “If brood mother found Tikis eats cooked foods, she would bite this head off.”

  Delik took a swig of the wine and passed the skin around. “So what have you two been nattering about?”

  Tikis drank then offered it to Fjhor, bypassing Elrin. “Nattering?”

  “Talking,” said Fjhor, taking two great draws from the skin.

  Tikis blinked twice, clicking a strange chuckle before he went back to his meal.

  Elrin watched the tattoos on Fjhor’s face rhythmically pulse, as if they had a quiet breath or heartbeat. “You must have some stories to tell, Fjhor? Where did you get those tattoos?”

  Fjhor handed the wineskin back to Delik and ate his meal without acknowledging the question. His attention was dispersed, though he had no trouble concentrating on eating. His plate was empty before the wine made it back around for a second swig. He took another long draw before his attention jolted into focus.

  The tattoos swirled over his tanned body. “You are all requested to attend a welcoming feast this eve. You are free to explore Kobbton until then. An escort will wait for you here.” Fjhor passed the wine to Delik and marched away without a farewell.

  Delik shook the wineskin, and replaced the cork. “Strange fellow.”

  “Don’t think I frightened him off asking about those tattoos, do you?”

  Tikis chuckled. “That one doesn’t taste of fear, tastes of spirit world.”

  “He smells like wine now.” Delik tossed the empty wineskin to Tikis. “Did you make friends?”

  “Spoke of blades and the sea. That one is Storm Islander.”

  “Anything on Kobb?”

  Tikis hesitated to answer, flicking his eyes over Elrin. “Wash these dishes now, shiner,” he said, pushing his empty plate aside. “Generals talk now.”

  The young man was relieved to be offered an escape. Tikis made him uneasy, always eyeing him over, assessing him. The drakkin radiated certain violent death. Those teeth and claws, that dominating muscular frame—he was made for battle. In the drakkin’s presence, Elrin felt better conditioned for a library, knowing words were a flimsy defence in raw combat. He couldn’t shake the image of Tikis eating the brains of that officer. It was a challenge just to look the drakkin in the eye, sitting so close. Elrin sensed Tikis’s mistrust, for what; he didn’t know. It was unwarranted, yet guilt brewed inside him for no other reason than an uncertainty of his innocence. Perhaps the young man had broken a drakkin greeting custom or needed to prove himself through some tribal ritual.

  Delik took the plate away from Elrin and stacked it on his own. “Elrin is one of us now, Tikis. We can trust him.”

  The drakkin blinked at Delik and then at Elrin, saying nothing for a moment. Elrin sensed a turbulent mix of acceptance and scrutiny.

  “Time in the hand beside the Lock does not make this one the Key.”

  Tikis might be a lethal warrior, but his grasp of the prophecy was loose at best. Elrin found himself correcting the drakkin, his enthusiasm for accuracy overcoming his fear of death by tooth and claw. “This one is not the Key. I think you’ll find it is that one.” Elrin tipped his head in the direction of Amber sitting with Hurn and Minni, juggling spheres of water.

  Tikis curled up his lips, revealing sharp and numerous teeth. Elrin tensed, cursing himself for being a know all, preparing for a blow that would crush his skull. Instead, Tikis slapped Delik’s arm, sounding his aspirant choked laughter.

  Delik chuckled along with Tikis, so Elrin thought it best to accompany them. His awkward laughter aside, the young Calimskan found himself a little less scared of Tikis. He was making progress up the food chain.

  As quick as mirth arrived for Tikis, it vanished, leaving his scaled features impassive once more. He darted his tongue about, tasting the air in all directions. “When do we start?”

  “Not yet. We’ll attend Kobb’s welcome feast first. We need to find out what he is planning for certain. I don’t want any surprises.”

  “What does knowing Kobb’s plans matter? Whatever that one wants makes a quiet escape harder. These ones should go now.”

  “Go where?” asked Delik. “We can’t all swim like a bloody drakkin. We need my father for a start. He knows the way. I think Kobb expects us to escape; maybe he wants us to. Why do you think he gave us free rein until tonight?”

  “That one is a slow bird. That one thinks there is no escape. Might think these ones are better at sea bottom, out of that one’s way.”

  Delik shook his head. “No, he could have done that long ago. He needs us, like we need him ... We wait.”

  Tikis rose to his feet, hulking over Delik and Elrin. “Tikis does not wait. These ones should not wait. These ones should walk this place. Scout and hunt for information.”

  “That is a fine plan, but no escape. Meet back here before dusk. We’ll share what we have found.”

&nbs
p; “Done.” Tikis dove off the pier with a quiet splash, disappearing in the shadows under Kobbton.

  Delik and Elrin told the others about Kobb’s feast. Delik paired them off to scout around Kobbton, Delik with Elrin, Amber with Hurn, and Minni alone with the shadows.

  After a few moments walking through the sprawling town, Elrin noticed they were being followed. It wasn’t Fjhor or any of his men, nor was it one of Kobb’s crew in motley colours. This man was dressed simply, like a fisherman, tanned skin and bare foot, trousers cut at the knees. He remained at a distance as they meandered across the decks and bridges, but when Delik and Elrin arrived at the busy market area, he closed in. Elrin instinctively reached for his dagger; it was there, safe and unseen. Delik pulled Elrin’s arm, urging him into a brisk walk, bumping their way through the crowd.

  Their pursuer increased his pace, gaining on them thanks to the locals thinning in the wake of Delik and Elrin barging through.

  Elrin spotted something in the man’s hand. “I think he has a knife.”

  “Right then, get yourself out of this market. Double back and I’ll meet you at the guesthouse. Go as fast as you can.” Delik melted into the crowd, dodging behind carts and produce stalls.

  Elrin pushed and nudged ahead. It was slow going in the press. He stood taller than most of the crowd, his raven hair became a beacon in a sea of blonde and brown, marking him the easier quarry. Elrin barged his way behind some fruit stalls and tripped into the fish market.

  The fish might have been fresh that morning, but the sunny day had ripened them enough to make him gag. He pushed on, trying to escape the stench and the man who followed him. Skirting around the fishmongers, he leapt across a rowboat onto a platform leading away from the markets. The man was not behind him any longer, so Elrin pressed on in a different direction, he didn’t want to be flushed into an ambush.

  After so many different turns, Elrin was out of breath and lost. He ran up a gangplank and across a wide deck broken by large hatches. The ship had a lonely mast rising above a small timber cabin. The door was painted black with golden wings. Elrin ran in and shut the door, leaning against it to catch his breath. It was dark inside, but his dagger emanated a soft glow, enough to discern a stairwell leading down.