The Little Dragons

by Rowan Starsmith

  Peg shot her a silencing glance. “Well, who knows?” she said. “Even if they did see something like that, do you think Anglewart would not keep the information to himself? I’m sure he would kill the poor brave man who made it back and told him just to be sure such a powerful possibility remained only in his hands.”

  Tess sighed. “And maybe the man with the message would know enough not to say anything in the first place.” The other Old Ones nodded.

  “I think you are right, Peg. This search must mean the Kings are sorry they destroyed the Little Dragons, and the Dragon Priestesses with their knowledge,” Tess said. “Or at least Anglewart must be having second thoughts.”

  “The problem is that they can only think in terms of war and power over people. I think they want to find the Little Dragons for that, as weapons, or maybe to communicate to the Great Dragons, to use them as weapons.”

  “Oh Peg!” said Tess. “Sometimes you are the ultimate cynic!”

  “Well, you know they’re offering rewards for anyone who can come up with a weapon that will kill Dragons,” Peg snapped back. “Maybe they want Dragons to kill Dragons.”

  Nell broke in. “Where do you think they came from, the Little Dragons?” she asked, a question that was almost a Ritual itself among the Healers.

  Sarah spoke. “I sometimes wonder if the Dragon Priestesses didn’t share their knowledge before they were all killed because they thought they could communicate with us from the Spirit World.”

  “They used to be able to do that, didn’t they?’ said Joelle.

  “My Teacher said so,” Sarah responded, “But that skill too had something to do with the Little Dragons, and died with them.”

  Chapter 8: Gleve

  Gleve’s stomach was tied tightly in a knot. All he wanted was to unleash his long legs and stride toward home. He couldn’t wait to see Father Mallory’s face when his beloved Teacher found out Gleve would be staying with him. He also worried about Father Mallory. He had left prepared meals and buckets of water drawn and set in a row under the kitchen cupboard. But had it been enough? Was Father Mallory having to struggle back from the pump with heavy pails or climb up and down the treacherous ladder to the cool room under the kitchen? What if he became ill while Gleve was away? The neighbours had promised to check every day, but would they?

  And now he had to travel with this grouchy old woman who was treating Maida so badly, and he had to see her all the way home. That meant facing Maida, although he knew he would have to sooner or later, and probably better to do it sooner. He rehearsed the words over and over again, trying to find a way to say it: he had broken his word to her; he had not spoken to Mother Sarah. Maida knew, of course, how intimidating the Old Ones could be. Surely she would understand. Wouldn’t she?

  It was all Gleve could do to follow Mother Peg’s snail-like pace. He held the lantern up to light their way and reminded himself to keep his impatience out of his face. Of course he never questioned that he would accompany her home. What young, strong Healer would leave an Old One to travel for days through the woods alone? But he spoke with her as little as possible, and now she wanted to take him off of the main road, out of their way, travelling an almost-invisible little path to show him something.

  Mother Peg glanced at him with those sharp, raisin eyes of hers. “We’ll be back on the main road before you know it.” How do the Old Ones read your mind like that? he wondered. She took the lantern from him and went ahead on the narrow way, in her maddeningly slow hobble. He had no choice but to follow, placing his feet carefully in her shadow.

  The old woman stopped so suddenly that Gleve nearly ran into her. She looked around, creasing her brow. Oh no, he thought. On top of everything else, she’s lost. But a moment later her brow cleared. “Here,” she said, as she pushed through some bushes.

  Gleve came behind her, stepping in front from time to time to remove fallen branches from the path, returning to trail the old woman. He almost ran into her again when she stopped. Then he took in his breath, impatience suddenly forgotten. Before him the lantern cast its light into a tiny, overgrown clearing.

  Although there were many stories about these ancient wayside shrines of the Dragon Priestesses, he had never seen a Dragonstone before. It was badly weathered, but the skillfully-carved Dragon still twisted gracefully around his stone tree trunk. Its eyes immediately captured him. Pitted as they were by time, and shadowed in the dim light of the lantern, they still looked at him, through him, considering his very heart, his every possible secret. He would have expected an image of a Dragon, come upon by surprise in the dark forest like this, to fill him with fear. But it didn’t. Instead, he was flooded with peace and strength. Some kind of loving power radiated from the stone and filled him with warmth.

  He became aware that Mother Peg was watching him. Now she quietly shifted her cane and reached out a bony hand. She was pressing a small pouch of Sacred Herbs into his palm. He loosened the string and shook some free. They closed their eyes and prayed, taking in the calm radiating from the stone dragon.

  “Bless you, young Gleve,” Mother Peg whispered, “And bless your new Healing practice. May it be your generation that rediscovers the knowledge of the Dragon Priestesses and brings our People and the People of Kings back into the light of day.”

  She handed him the lantern again and hobbled slowly forward to scatter the herbs at the feet of the Dragon. As soon as she stepped back, Gleve went forward to place his gift as well. When she finally turned to go, he was surprised to find himself reluctant to leave.

  “Has Father Mallory not shown you the way to any of the surviving Dragonstones in the Northlands?”

  “He has often said that he would, but we just never got around to it. You know what he thinks of putting effort into the memory of the Dragon Priestesses.”

  “Would he still be able to do it?”

  “It would be difficult, but maybe, with help.”

  “You must make him take you—soon!” Mother Peg looked Gleve straight in the eye. “When the Kings destroyed them, more survived in the Northlands than anywhere else. There were more there in the first place, because it is so close to the mountains where the Dragon Priestesses had their School, and the King’s men had more trouble finding them because the country is wilder, and closer to the Dragon’s dens.” She paused, studied him. “It is important, Gleve, that you find out where they are. Father Mallory knows and we can’t afford to lose any more of the little knowledge we have. Tell me you understand how important it is. Promise me you’ll find them!”

  He held her eyes. “I understand how important it is, Mother Peg. I will ask Father Mallory to show me the way as soon as I get home.”

  “Well then.” She nodded and turned back to the road, satisfied. He let out a held-in breath. On their way again, finally.

  Chapter 9: Maida

  Maida was trying to resist looking out the window. Every time she did, Rafe clambered up from his favourite stool by the hearth to look as well. Sometimes he managed to set down his dish. More often it hit the floor and scattered food all over the room. From experience, Maida knew better than to give him pottery dishes or serve him much at one time. Rafe ate out of a shallow metal bowl. It made more noise hitting the flagstones, but at least it did not have to be picked up in pieces. The small servings meant she had to refill the bowl over and over again, because the big lad had a huge appetite, but that meant she could remind him each time that she wanted him to sit up straight, eat one bite at a time, use the spoon. In spite of this, by the time the food was half-consumed, he would forget and slouch over the bowl pushing the last of the meal into his mouth with his hand. If it were soup or stew, he would sometimes tip the bowl up and drink from it.

  Maida had to restrain herself from laughing more often than she lost patience with him, mostly because he was always so delighted with the food, with his precious metal bowl, with everything. It was rare to see Rafe’s round face wear any expression but a happy grin.

 
Tonight, however, he was grating her nerves. It was difficult not to look out the window. She had been expecting Mother Peg to return last night, or even the night before. Sister Edda, Brother Klaus and Apprentice Gleve had come through just a day after Mother Peg left for the Gathering. They would see her safely home, but Maida worried anyway. Mother Peg was her responsibility to care for, and, despite the Healer’s denials, her elderly body was getting very fragile. Always a tiny woman, now she was bent over and walked slowly, using her stick for support. What if she became ill or was injured along the way? What if they couldn’t get her to shelter quickly enough when daylight came? However, there was nothing to do but wait.

  In the meantime, Maida had precious little time left for learning. She had one of Mother Peg’s Healing Journals open on the table, memorizing the herbs for coughs. Stimulating expectorants for a wet cough: elecampane, squill, cowslip, bittersweet, heartsease, white horehound, balm of Gilead, asafetida, blood root, mouse ear, queen’s delight, rue, thyme, bryony, caraway, snake root, violet. For a dry, nervous cough, calm it with relaxing expectorants: coltsfoot, marshmallow, comfrey, plantain, ribwort, linseed, licorice, aniseed, lungwort, hyssop, ephedra, sundew, skunk cabbage, Irish moss, euphorbia.

  She resisted looking out the window again. Rafe, finally finished eating, was watching Maida intently, his big round face echoing her worried expression. “It’s all right, Rafe. Mother Peg will be home soon.” She turned back to the Journal in front of her. Some cough remedies have a broad range of effects and should be used when there are complex symptoms: lobelia, garlic, ginger, mullein flowers, red clover, lovage, elderflowers.

  Rafe stood up and stared out into the night. He turned to her, his habitual grin restored, and said, “M’Peg.” Maida looked. There was a little twinkle of light bobbing among the trees. Her heart beating hard, she closed the thick Journal and carried it to the shelf in Mother Peg’s room. She had left a pebble to mark exactly where it stood, a millimeter in front of the volume on one side, two millimeters back of the one of the other side. She placed the book, pocketed the pebble, and gave Rafe a guilty look as she returned to the kitchen. Thank goodness he couldn’t speak, not that Mother Peg would listen to anything he had to say anyway.

  “Mother Peg?” Maida called in the direction of the approaching light, her own lantern held high.

  “Yes, yes, it’s me,” came back the response.

  Maida hurried along the path to meet the Healer, Rafe bumbling along at her heels. “We were beginning to worry about you.” Did her voice sound normal after her quick, guilty trip to the Old One’s room? Sometimes she thought the old woman could read her mind, let alone her voice. At least this time there was important news to provide an excuse for breathlessness, disturbing news.

  “No need,” Mother Peg snapped. “I have company.” She turned to indicate the tall young man behind her. “Meet Father Mallory’s new co-Healer.”

  “Oh Gleve, you can stay with Father Mallory then?” Gleve nodded. Maida looked up at him, searching for his eyes, but he looked away. She bit her lip. He had not kept his promise. “Hi Rafe,” he greeted the large man trying to be invisible in the shadows.

  But what did she expect? It would take huge courage for an Apprentice, or even newly Received Healer, to carry a complaint to the oldest of the Old Ones about the second-oldest. It’s just that he seemed so angry on her behalf, she thought maybe …

  “So will you stay for the day, rest and have something to eat? Mother Peg asked Gleve.

  “Thank you,” he told her, “But there is still some travelling time left this night. I think I’ll go on to Tummel.”

  “Well now you’re free of this slow old baggage you can run ahead on those long legs of yours.”

  “Mother Peg! Don’t say that. I always learn something new when I’m with you.”

  “Now, off with you,” she said. “And greetings to that old curmudgeon you work with. And make him show you the Dragonstones.”

  “I will.”

  Gleve did not even glance at Maida as he handed her Mother Peg’s travelling pack and lantern. He turned briefly to wave as he left the clearing, striding so quickly he was almost running. As she watched him go Maida’s bitterness sat on her tongue waiting to be swallowed again.

  Maida turned to hand the pack to Rafe, but he would have none of it. He did not give Peg the choice the Healers gave her on the Barrens. He just picked her up and started walking toward the cabin, an even larger than usual smile lighting up his face. “Stop that, you big oaf,” she squawked. “Put me down.” Rafe ignored her, as usual. Maida bent to pick up Peg’s walking stick, dropped as she was lifted off of her feet, and followed.

  “Not right through the door,” Peg demanded. “Put me down here.”

  Rafe obeyed, setting her down as gently as he could in front of the cabin door. Peg impatiently tugged her bodice and blouse back into place. “Oaf,” she said. “At least let me walk into my own home on my own feet.” Rafe simply smiled back.

  The door was open, pouring light out onto the hard-packed earth at their feet. Maida and Rafe stood respectfully behind her, but behind them the chickens began to gather, noisy in their welcome, or was it just interest in being fed?

  Mother Peg raised her hands and gave the Blessing of the Threshold: “Ancient Mother, bless this house. May it always have warmth for sharing, food for eating, and peace for healing.”

  After a brief pause, Mother Peg lowered her hands. Maida came up and held out the walking stick. The Old One took it, hobbled inside and stopped to make a critical examination of the room.

  Maida, too, looked around the cabin, seeing it through Mother Peg’s eyes. Maida was proud of her housekeeping. The fire crackled on the hearth. Its resinous perfume mingled with the sweet scents of herbs hanging in neat rows from the beams above. Pots of vegetable stew and herb tea sat warm by the fire. The stone floor was swept, the table, shelves and counters scrubbed clean. The supper dishes waited for attention, but they were neatly piled. Maida watched the old woman’s eyes fall on Rafe’s dirty bowl and spoon still sitting on the hearth, bits of his meal scattered around it. She stared just long enough to communicate her disapproval.

  Maida carried Peg’s travelling pack to the Old One’s room off the kitchen, resiting one more check for signs of her risky forays into the Journals. When she returned she set a chair by the fire and helped Peg sit before carrying Rafe’s utensils to the kitchen and returning with a damp rag to clean up the mess. On the second trip she brought a spoon and a bowl, which she filled from the warm pot of stew.

  Rafe sat down on his low stool at his beloved mistress’s feet, beaming joyfully at her. A little drop of spit travelled down his chin, as often happened when he was tired or emotional. “Don’t stare at me, Rafe,” Peg told him, “I feel like a carnival act in the town square.”

  He looked down at his huge hands, but couldn’t maintain it for long. In minutes he was staring worshipfully at her again. Maida glanced out the window where the darkness was thinner than it had been. She turned to Rafe. “I think it’s time for chores, my friend.” After setting a full cup of hot lemon balm tea beside Mother Peg’s chair, she fetched the milk bucket from the storeroom and led Rafe out to gather the goats and chickens into their safe stable for the day.

  Maida returned to the cabin with the bulge of an egg in her apron pocket and a full bucket of milk in her hand, alone. Rafe slept in a cot in the hayloft over the stable. “He wanted to come back and sit with you again, but I told him you were too tired and would soon be going to bed yourself,” Maida told Peg.

  “And that’s true, so put that milk in the cool room and come and tell me what’s on your mind.”

  Of course the old Healer, as usual, read her like letters on a page. Maida put the milk away and returned with a cup. She pulled a second chair up to the hearth. “I was trying to hide my worry until you’d had a day’s rest.”

  “You know better than that.”

  Maida filled her own cup wi
th tea and topped up Peg’s before she spoke. “We had a visit from one of the King’s Men while you were gone.”

  “Well then. And what would bring some clanking man-at-arms to this humble cottage? Some sickness the King’s Healers can’t figure out?” Peg snorted.

  “He is more than ‘some clanking man-at-arms.’ He’s one of King Anglewart’s Bailiffs. He said one of the King’s daughters has got herself in trouble.”

  “As in, indiscretion-with-a-man trouble?”

  “Exactly. Because she is the King’s daughter, and already engaged to the son of another King, her father doesn’t want to feed her to the Dragons. Instead, they want to send her away, before anyone catches on. They want her to grow large and have her baby out of sight while they spread a story about a visit to relatives in the East.”

  “And they want us to find someone to take her in?”

  “They know you are the one with the skills to take care of her, see her through her labour and delivery and return her unharmed. He even hinted that they think you can disguise the fact that she’s no longer a virgin.”

  “They want me to take her in?”

  Maida nodded miserably. “I suppose having lost one daughter in the incident with the captive Dragon, they want even more to protect this one.”

  “More likely the coming marriage is an important alliance for King Anglewart.” Peg sighed. “And what about the baby?”

  “They want us to find a foster home for it.”

  “And no one is to know about the royal blood.”

  Maida nodded. “Well, at least we may learn more about the captive Dragon,” she said.

  Peg groaned. “The timing couldn’t be worse for entertaining a resident spy.”

  “Why?”

  “The Healers at the Gathering finally gave their blessing to my project of searching for missing bits of Dragon Priestess lore. I have a list of people I want to talk to. It will be almost impossible with a member of the King’s household here.”

  “Can you say no?’

  “You know better than that, my girl. It could well mean death to say no to him, although it might eventually mean death to say yes.”