The Dragon Writers Collection

by DragonWritersCollective

  Brodar’s voice halted her. “You never answered my question, Gráinne.”

  Gráinne looked over her shoulder and replied, “You never asked me one directly.”

  The Bovan released a thunderous laugh, and Gráinne continued on her way. She passed near the circle of dancers just as Glendoque revolved to the spot closest to her. He turned to face her, and she saw for the first time that his eyes were reptilian, a shade of rich amber with golden starbursts. From parted lips slid a forked tongue, which flicked and then slipped back between Glendoque’s lips and behind his teeth. Then, he hissed at her, before continuing on in the revolution. Had he been a snake, it would have terrified her to see the eyes and tongue, to hear the hiss. She hated snakes. But he wasn’t a snake, and his hiss wasn’t terrifying. It was seductive, more seductive than any sound she’d heard. Gráinne wanted to run away from him, to make her legs move, but they wouldn’t until Glendoque disappeared behind the bonfire. Gráinne hurried to find Lan, all the while thinking of the dancer and becoming more and more agitated.

  You. And. I. Need. To. Speak. Privately. Now. The hair on Gráinne’s neck stood on end; the voice in her head held an edge she’d not used with Lan before, even when she had snarled and growled at him in the kitchen.

  “If you will excuse us,” Lan said to the two clan leaders with whom he’d been talking, “The Marquessa and I have a matter to discuss before the meeting.”

  Gráinne stomped over to a spot among the boulders far enough away from others to assure privacy. She sat on a large boulder with her back to the clan leaders. “What have you done? You spoke to Brodar about the ship?”

  Lan stood facing Gráinne, his ears darting occasionally as if alert to intruders approaching. “Yes, I did, and I have a plan that may work if you can convince at least a dozen males to come with us. I am trying to keep all of us alive, woman. Have you thought about what your husband will do when he finds out we left the island? Maybe you do not care about your own miserable life, but do you care about mine or Caera’s? Do you know what he will do to us before he kills us? I do, and I have no desire to experience that again. If we bring something back that contributes to his estate, we might, and I mean might, survive.”

  Before Gráinne could speak, he continued, “Even with a new ship, I have no idea how I can justify bringing back others to settle a land he wanted to see dead and barren!”

  Lan’s words stung. They brought back her visit to the southern cave and her feelings of inadequacy at not being able to prevent the deaths of the realm’s citizens. The innocent. She’d chosen a path of resistance, a path she believed neither Lan nor Caera would have chosen alone. Yet they’d come with her. Caera had come voluntarily. She wasn’t altogether certain why Lan had come, but he was here with her, and he was going back to the island. She couldn’t fault him for trying to survive. Still wrestling with the urge to turn around and seek out Glendoque, she fidgeted. “What did you tell Brodar? I cannot convince anyone of anything if we do not have our facts . . . and our plan in order.”

  Drumbeats picked up their pace.

  “And make it quick. Time is short,” she said.

  Lan sighed and stepped closer to Gráinne. He explained the details he’d worked out to pay for the ship and get settlers back to Incorrigible. His plan consisted of four parts—delivery of the goods on the outstanding contract, an agreement to fulfill at least one more delivery contract, silver, and nominal fares for settlers.

  “A working crew of settlers,” he said quietly. “Using settlers as crew members saves us the expense of hiring a crew, and that savings will net us greater profit on the delivery contract. Moreover, using settlers as crew members will save us the expense of hiring a crew for the journey home. We can effectively reduce the outlay of silver for the ship.”

  “But what about the fares, Lan? Look at these beings. They have nothing. How will they pay for their fares?”

  “They have a lot more than you think. They have established trade in a town not far from here. They do still have their trades. Those who do not work as crew members can send goods to sell when the ship fulfills its first delivery contract. Proceeds from the sale of their goods will help raise funds for the fares.”

  Gráinne felt uneasy.

  “Fares are necessary for the purchase of the ship, and we are giving the settlers at least two ways to pay those fares. I did not tell Brodar all of this. He only knows we have a way for settlers to earn the fare. When he saw you, he ended our conversation.”

  A final drumbeat sounded, and an eerie silence ensued for a second before the noise of activity in the cave swelled. Gráinne looked over her shoulder and saw that a number of other settlers had joined the clan leaders. Some were taking seats on the ring of boulders. Time was up. She’d have to trust Lan. “I will do my best to remember it all. Let us not keep them waiting.” Goddess, help us.

  “I told you she has no power over me,” Lan whispered.

  Gráinne looked at him in time to catch the smirk she now was certain she’d missed the first time she’d heard him speak those words. Finding an empty boulder next to Brodar, she took a seat. Lan stood within hearing range of her. As she looked around the ring of stones, the only face she recognized was Caleb’s.

  A couple of stragglers scurried into the last places in the ring. None of the other cave’s inhabitants ventured near the ring though some watched from a distance.

  Brodar stood. “We gather at the fires to hear the words of Gráinne Roisin Ferrane MacKenna Seetan, Marquessa of Vandovir. Do any object to giving her voice?”

  Both the remembrance of her name and the call for objections surprised Gráinne. Looking from face to face, she sought signs of impending challenges. Some of the beings looked down. Others shook their heads, but none stood or gave a signal she recognized as outright objection.

  “Gráinne, you may speak to the council of clan leaders.”

  Inexperienced in giving public speeches, Gráinne felt a pang of regret for not having practiced what she wanted and needed to say. She rose. “Thank you for your hospitality. You have reason to be proud of this place you call home,” she said, motioning with her hand to indicate the boundaries of the cave. “I, too, am proud of the place I call home.” A wistful look washed over her face as she continued, “My home is an island one weeks’ journey by ship from Port Firth. It is called Incorrigible.” She took a deep breath. “And it is uninhabited.”

  “Tell us why, Gráinne. Tell us all why none live there,” one of the clan leaders called out, his tone a clear challenge.

  Gráinne looked toward the left side of the ring in the general direction the words had come from. “Because my husband hired mercenaries to kill every inhabitant and burn what remained.”

  “And you want us to live under the rule of your husband?”

  This time, Gráinne saw that a humanoid male was the clan leader pressing her with questions. She stiffened her posture to stand at her full height. “No. My husband is not the ruler of Incorrigible, nor will he ever be. My mother ruled the realm, and I am the only living heir of her bloodline. She is dead, and it is I who now must serve Incorrigible.”

  “I knew her mother, and she was a kind and decent ruler who respected all who lived or sought refuge in her land,” Caleb said.

  When the objector did not ask another question, Gráinne continued. “I have come to offer ownership of land above ground, the right to practice your trades for profit, to farm, to fish, to shepherd. I offer my loyalty. It will not be easy work for any of us. There is much to be done, and all must work side-by-side to rebuild what the mercenaries destroyed.”

  “How do we know the mercenaries won’t return?”

  Gráinne looked at the same humanoid who now had asked several questions. “What is your name?”

  The male looked around nervously. “Samuel.”

  “Samuel,” she said, her voice calm but serious. “Your questions are fair ones. And the mercenaries? Only the Goddess knows what will happen. I am
no goddess. I am a servant of the realm of Incorrigible, and I say we must work together to protect ourselves from any who threaten our peace, not just mercenaries. My homeland had no army, no plan to protect those who could not protect themselves. It was a mistake for my mother to allow the Council of Elders to disband the army and to rely solely on the protection of mages and mystics and diplomats. Though the Goddess knows I will make many mistakes, I will not make that one. Those among us who are capable of bearing arms, those who know the ways of war, and those who can build structures of defense will help the rest of us learn how to defend ourselves. We will not wage war, but we will not be caught defenseless again.” Gráinne waited, but Samuel did not respond.

  A woman’s voice sounded from the right side of the ring. It belonged to the woman Caera had spoken to about the mushrooms for the brewing stew. “Where will we live until we can build homes? I have a child to consider.”

  Murmurs of agreement spread around the ring.

  “In the castle with me,” Gráinne replied. “It is the safest spot on the island, the easiest to defend, and the most intact.” She felt glad she’d taken the risk of going to Incorrigible and had surveyed the damage.

  More murmurs spread around the ring.

  “I am sure you have questions about the land and realm, as well as questions and concerns about the journey from here to Incorrigible. I can tell you of the wonders of my homeland, but I believe you would be better served by asking Caleb to tell you. He is one of you, and you know already that he is truthful.”

  “Yes, yes,” said one of the clan leaders.

  “My assistant, Lan Noire,” she said, turning around to point to him and then turning back to the clan leaders, “will answer your questions about the journey. To reduce the burden of fares for all settlers, we seek a crew of able sailors. Lan can discuss those details with you. But know,” she cast a glance at Lan and continued, “fare is requested, not required.” She didn’t look at Lan, but she could sense him squirming. “Once we know how many wish to make the journey, we would like to include you in making the final plans. My proposition is a serious one, and I know you will need time to consider and discuss it amongst yourselves, as well. I wish you well no matter what your choice may be.”

  Brodar rose, and Gráinne took her seat on the boulder. “Clan leaders, you have heard the words of Gráinne Roisin Ferrane MacKenna Seetan, Marquessa of Vandovir. Take her proposition to your clans.”

  As Brodar’s words ended, clan leaders jumped up off their boulders and ran in all directions. Inhabitants who had stood in the distance moved toward the huts closest to the circle of stones. Gráinne thought they might be the huts of the clan leaders or clan meeting places. She turned to Brodar, who remained standing. “How long will it take for the leaders to return with their decisions?”

  Brodar shrugged. “A few days? Some will have questions for Lan, no doubt. For others, it will not matter. Many have tired of salvaging what they can and moving on.”

  Gráinne motioned to the huts. “They are resourceful.”

  “True, but each time the soldiers have pushed us farther away from Port Firth, our losses have increased, as has the danger. During my last trip to find a place to settle, the soldiers came to the woods and burned the camp. The night after I returned, the soldiers came back and almost discovered the men hidden in the back of Wren’s wagon. My heart beat so fast I thought it would explode.”

  She thought about the panic she’d felt when she’d feared Lan had told Slyxx about the rot and her deception. She feared Slyxx’s return as much as the cave dwellers feared the return of the soldiers. “Do you think they will come back?”

  Brodar’s shoulders rose, and his chest swelled with air. He snorted as he exhaled. “I pray not.”

  “Thank you for convincing the clan leaders to allow me to speak.”

  “I didn’t do it for you, Gráinne. I did it for those who are unhappy here, those who yearn for sunlight and civilization above ground. I cannot offer them what you can.”

  Gráinne grinned at the Bovan. “You are not as tough as you appear.”

  Brodar laughed and winked.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Protective

  Gráinne walked slowly and leisurely back to the guest chamber. Most of the huts and tents were unoccupied, their owners at the clan meeting spots listening to the leaders explain the proposition. A few children still played games and dodged between the makeshift homes, not seeming to notice her. The relative solitude gave her a chance to more closely examine the settlement. With rare exception, only cooking and washing necessities sat outside the homes. She decided the inhabitants must have kept personal belongings inside, and she wondered how cramped some of the homes must have been if they were filled with trade goods and the necessities for daily living.

  “There you are!” Caera called out from the hole at the top of their quarters’ ladder. “What did they say?”

  Gráinne climbed the ladder and stepped into the chamber before answering. “They need time to think about it. Their clan leaders are telling them what I said. Lan will be answering questions for a long while, I suspect.”

  Caera laughed. “He will like that. He likes to feel important.”

  The more Gráinne got to know Caera, the more perceptive she found her to be. “Yes, he does. And what mischief have you been up to?” she asked.

  “Ohhhh! Come and see!”

  Caera pointed to the metal bowl in the center of the room. It was now surrounded by a tripod, and a cooking pot with steam rising out of it perched above a fire in the bowl.

  Gráinne and Caera walked over to the pot and peered inside, almost bumping their heads together. Mushrooms and green and yellow strands of some kind of vegetable bubbled up and sank, disappearing into the boiling broth. The steam had a sweet, nutty scent that set Gráinne’s mouth to watering.

  “What is it?”

  Caera beamed as she pulled her head back from over the pot. “Vegetable stew. Fiona gave me some of the mushrooms. You remember her. The woman with the little girl. The child’s name is Fiata. She is a sassy one, indeed, but smart, I tell you!”

  Gráinne smiled to see that Caera had met someone with whom she could share her joy of cooking. “What are the vegetables?”

  Caera beamed again and pointed to the walls of the chamber. “The ferns! They are delicious! The green ones are savory, and the yellow ones are sweet.”

  “I wish I had learned to cook.”

  Caera smiled. “You have your own gifts.”

  Gráinne cocked her head at Caera, remembering the dream she’d had about the ladybug. “That is what someone once told me in a dream.”

  “A dream? But it is true. You can ride a horse. That is a gift. You tolerate Lan better than anyone could. That most definitely is a gift!” The two laughed, and then Caera said, “Sit down, and we will have a bowl of stew. I have been itching to find out how it tastes, and it smells ready now.” She toddled off to the back of the chamber and returned with two bowls and spoons.

  “What is back there?” Gráinne asked while Caera ladled stew into a bowl and handed it to her.

  “Cupboards, supplies, more places to sleep.”

  Gráinne blew on a steaming spoonful of stew and then sucked its contents into her mouth. “It is delicious, Caera.” After a few more bites, she asked, “What have you learned about the inhabitants here?”

  “Oh, theirs is an interesting story. They come from many different lands. A few are from Port Firth. Some are stranded travellers. Others came to Port Firth to trade or work. Some just happed upon the encampment in the forest.”

  Gráinne was confused. “I did not see an encampment in the forest.”

  “It is not there anymore. The soldiers destroyed it. That is why they live here now.”

  “Why did the soldiers destroy the encampment?”

  Caera shrugged. “Ignorance? Fear? Who knows? The soldiers told them they were not welcome and could not trade their goods or sell their wa
res in Port Firth.” Caera giggled. “They do anyway. They have secret contacts there who help them when they can.”

  Gráinne thought about John and wondered if maybe he was one of the secret contacts. “And the traders who are not expected to return for a moon. What do you know of them?” she asked, wondering if all of the trade goods had gone with them. If so, she wasn’t sure the inhabitants would have any goods to send on the ship when it made its trip to fulfill the delivery contract.

  “Not much, but I know they are travelling on foot and with carts.”

  Gráinne smiled. “You have learned a lot. You should be a scout.”

  Caera laughed. “Mmhmm. My mother always said I was too inquisitive for my own good.”

  Gráinne laughed.

  “It is going to take at least three fortnights before we can leave for Incorrigible,” Lan said.

  Gráinne started at the sound of his voice. She hadn’t seen or heard him approaching.

  Caera looked up from her stew. “Want some?”

  Lan shook his head.

  Gráinne frowned. “Why such a long delay?”

  “We have a delivery contract to fulfill as soon as the Cailleach Bheur arrives.”

  “Then you have figured out how to pay for the ship?”

  “Yes. And we will have silver to tide us over for the delay. That is, if we can find a Captain.”

  Gráinne’s heart sank. “But you said no Captain would take the contract.”

  “None that we know of, but Brodar says there is one who may have the nerve to brave the curse. A Scot named Fenn MacMoragh.”

  “Can we speak with him?”

  “He does not live here.”

  Gráinne’s heart sank again. “Where does he live?”

  “Nobody knows.”

  Frustration was seeping into Gráinne. “Then, how do we find him?”

  “He is in Port Firth.”

  Gráinne slurped down the last of the broth in her bowl and chucked the spoon at Lan. He dodged it and laughed.