Eynon stood tall on his flying disk and expanded the protective shell around his body a few inches, turning its color red-gold. He used more energy from his red magestone to generate crackling flames around him and shaped a transparent cone of solidified sound in front of his mouth to amplify his voice.
“LAND AT ONCE OR BE IMMOLATED!” he said, trying to make his voice sound deep and menacing. It cracked twice and only ended up being deep, but he’d gained the dragon riders’ attention. He made the flames around him burn brighter to reinforce his message.
“Thunder and lightning!” one rider exclaimed.
“What does immolated mean?” asked another.
“Burned alive,” said Sigrun. “We’d better do what that thing says.”
One of the riders on the far side of the wing of dragons tried to run for it, but Eynon stopped her with a small fireball a few feet ahead of her mount’s nose. He pointed to a broad limestone outcrop near a square of well-tended woodlands on the edge of an estate below. The riders descended.
Eynon saw Rocky hovering close by and created a red sphere of particularly tasty solidified sound to guide the wyvern down as well. He saw that Rocky carried something in his claws—it was Nûd. Thank goodness! thought Eynon.
Rocky landed on one side of the flat expanse of rock, gently placing Nûd on a bed of green moss. All twelve of the dragon riders touched down on the other side, their eyes tracking Eynon floating a few feet above them.
“DISMOUNT!” Eynon commanded.
The riders reluctantly climbed down from their dragons and stood by their arrowhead-shaped heads, helping them stay calm. Their dragons’ gold scales flashed in the afternoon sunlight and shimmered red where they reflected Eynon’s fiery, designed-to-intimidate form. He noticed that the riders—ten girls and two boys, from what he could tell—all carried knives and axes on their belts. A short boy had a one-handed crossbow and a tall girl had a short sword with twin gold dragon heads as its hilt.
“DISARM!”
Eynon burned a circle the diameter of his flying disk into the rock twenty paces in front of riders. Each one in turn stepped forward, removed their weapons, and put them in the dark circle. The tall girl with the short sword was the last to approach. She tossed her knife and hand-axe into the circle but didn’t move to unbuckle her sword belt.
“Do what he says, Sigrun!” urged one of the girls. “You don’t want him to burn you.”
“My parents gave me this sword,” said Sigrun over her shoulder. She looked at Eynon defiantly. “Turn me to ash if you want, but you can’t have it.”
“YOUR SWORD IS OF NO IMPORTANCE!”
Eynon was making things up as he went along, but was used to dealing with stubborn people.
Sigrun continued to stand her ground.
“YOU CAN RECLAIM IT WHEN YOU’VE RETURNED MY GOLD!”
“There’s gold in those bags?” asked a girl.
“We’re rich!” said another.
“We’re dead if we try to keep it,” said Holgir, the boy with the crossbow.
Sigrun was still standing in front of the circle burnt into the rock. She stared up at Eynon. He saw she wore two large gold broaches pinning an embroidered apron of fine white fabric to her bright yellow shirt.
“Those bags are ours by right of plunder,” said Sigrun. “Any gold they have belongs to us now.”
Eynon admired the girl’s courage, if not her wisdom. He thought about telling her he was plundering it back, but tried another approach.
“THAT GOLD IS MEANT FOR THE KING OF THE BIFURLANDERS, NOT FOR YOU!”
His statement didn’t prompt the reaction he expected. Instead of showing fear, Sigrun laughed. So did the other dragon riders behind her. Even their dragons snorted.
“WHAT?” said Eynon, too surprised to continue his act.
“King Bjarni is my father,” said Sigrun. “If you’re taking it to him we’ll help you load it back on your wyvern and see to your companion. We’ll even escort you to the fleet.”
“He’s the cute one,” said the girl with the longest braids.
“UM…” said Eynon, his flying disk slowly descending without him consciously directing it to do so. The cone in front of his lips faded away.
“Come on, team,” said Sigrun, waving to her companions. “Grab your weapons and start carrying bags.”
Eynon touched down and dropped his flaming façade. He was eager to check on Nûd.
“The skinny one isn’t much older than we are,” said a girl.
“He’s still a wizard,” said Sigrun. “Treat him with respect even if he did try to scare us to death.”
“I can still throw fireballs,” said Eynon, but any hint of menace had left his voice. “Can you help me see to my friend?”
“Bring your healer’s kit, Rannveigr,” said Sigrun. She’d retrieved her knife and axe and looked Eynon up and down like a judge trying to tell if he was lying about who owned a pig. Rannveigr and Sigrun walked past Eynon, heading for the bed of moss near Rocky where Nûd had been placed. Eynon followed them, wondering who was being taught a lesson. He saw Chee sitting on the moss near Nûd’s head, stroking his hair.
“When we finish moving the gold, can we have lunch?” asked the boy who wasn’t Holgir.
“Lunch would be good,” said Nûd, leaning up on one elbow. “I don’t know where I am, but I’m hungry enough to eat a wisent.”
Chapter 21
Merry
“You look so much like your father,” said Princess Gwýnnett when she and Merry were seated in a not-so-cozy corner in the princess’s suite. Gwýnnett had contrived to have her chair look like a throne, six inches taller than the ones around it. Merry’s chair had wide arms and a broad seat. It was so thickly padded that Merry felt like she’d rolled into the center of an old feather bed and faded into its folds. She perched on the edge of her seat to avoid disappearing entirely.
Merry smiled and nodded. She expected she’d be doing a lot of that during her conversation with the princess.
“I had a crush on him when I first came to the palace,” said Gwýnnett. “He was a dashing young man then. One of the heroes of the battle at the gates of Nova Eboracum. My late husband, Prince Dâri, was a hero, too, you know, but he wasn’t skilled at polite conversation.”
Smile and nod. Don’t eat or drink anything. Count your fingers.
“Your father was more than just a soldier,” the princess continued. “He read books and was friends with that wizard. What was his name?”
“Doethan,” said Merry.
“Yes, that’s it,” said the princess. “Though he went by Llandoethan then. A nosy fellow. Always getting into other people’s business. Would you like some tea, dear?” She gestured toward a pot on the table in front of them with two finely made cups beside it.
“No thank you,” said Merry.
“As you wish,” sniffed Gwýnnett, “but you’re missing out on a treat. It’s delicious.”
Smile and nod.
“Anyway, I don’t see why he had to come back to Brendinas after all this time. It’s rude, that’s what it is. He should have stayed away far to the west and kept making fertility potions and healing farmers’ broken legs.”
Keep my mask up. Don’t let her see how much I want to respond. She knows much more about Doethan than she wants me to think.
“He should have stayed along the Rhuthro, like your father,” said Gwýnnett. “Salderwen is a wise man—smart enough to leave court when it was sensible to do so, and wiser still to stay away.”
Merry turned up her palms, smiled, and nodded.
“You’ll tell him that, won’t you? Next time you see him?”
Nod, then smile.
“Good,” said Gwýnnett. “I knew you’d understand. And if you see Llandoethan, give him the same message. I understand the two of you are quite close. What’s he like, dear? You know… is it true what they say about wizards.”
Merry knew Princess Gwýnnett was trying to provoke a reaction fr
om her. The princess must have spies that told her Merry spent time in Doethan’s tower when she made trips down the river to Tyford. It didn’t matter if Gwýnnett believed Merry was sleeping with Doethan, so long as the insinuation prompted Merry to say more than she should.
“I don’t understand, Your Highness,” Merry replied haltingly, like she was ten, not almost sixteen. “What do you mean? People say lots of things about wizards.”
“There are rumors about what they can do with solidified sound,” said the princess.
“Oh yes,” said Merry, pitching her voice to sound younger. “I’ve seen Doethan walk across the Rhuthro without getting his feet wet using circles of solidified sound.”
Gwýnnett smiled and nodded. Merry could sense the older woman’s brain calculating more points to anchor her webs as she sought another approach for her interrogation.
The princess lifted a plate off the table and presented it to Merry. “Try one of the currant cakes, dear,” she said. “They’re quite tasty.”
“No thank you,” said Merry. “My brother used to tell me the currants were midges from the local marches.”
Blast! thought Merry. I should have stopped at “No thank you.”
“And how is Salder doing in the north these days?”
Caught, thought Merry. She couldn’t prevent her mask from slipping for a moment and took an extra beat to say, “How is my brother doing? He’s not doing anything—he’s dead.”
“Oh dear. I’d forgotten. My condolences on your loss.”
The princess looked as sorry as a fox in a hen house with feathers caught in its fur.
Merry lowered her head as if she was about to cry, but really to hide her face. She considered the fact that Gwýnnett knew Salder was alive and probably knew he was in Riyas.
Blast!, she thought. Damon had a mole in his spy network, and that put her brother at risk.
“Were you there when the Tamloch wizards invaded the western marches this morning?”
Everyone else seemed to know about the battle, so Merry didn’t see any need to dissemble.
“Yes. I was at the quarry near the Coombe where the Tamloch wizards came to dig for magestones.”
“And were they successful?” asked Gwýnnett.
“Who?” asked Merry. “The invaders or the defenders.”
“The invaders, as you call them,” said Gwýnnett. “I’d have thought that was obvious from context.”
“Forgive me, Your Highness, I was up early, and it’s been a long day.”
“Take your time, then,” said Gwýnnett. “Do have some tea—it will wake you up.”
Merry shook her head and went on.
“We drove the Tamloch forces away, but they did manage to collect several buckets of green magestones.”
“Did they?” asked Gwýnnett. “That’s fascinating. Verro pulled it off.”
The princess licked her lips and made Merry think of a cat who’d finished a bowl of cream.
Merry tried to analyze Gwýnnett’s words. It seemed like she was less interested in Dâron’s success than Tamloch’s. That made no sense. Her son was king of Dâron. She’d have to share what she’d heard with Queen Carys and Astrí and Damon to see if they could figure it out. It was time to leave and find them.
The princess had continued to speak and Merry’s mind only now caught up to what her ears had heard.
“It’s too dangerous for you to return to Applegarth or Upper Rhuthro Keep,” Gwýnnett had said. “You should stay here in the palace with me, where you’ll be safe.”
Did Gwýnnett really intend to hold her prisoner?
“I appreciate your generous offer, Your Highness, but Damon expects me back in the antechamber to the king’s study. He’s probably wondering where I am already.”
“Nonsense, young lady. You’ll be much better off nearby, where I can ensure your continued good health. I’m confident whoever Damon is, he’ll understand. I can send word so he won’t worry.”
“Thank you, Your Highness, but…”
“No, no, it’s settled,” said Princess Gwýnnett. “I’ve got a very cozy room for you just down the hall. It’s quite private.”
Merry smiled and nodded. If she was going to be imprisoned, she’d go gracefully, then do her best to escape as soon as possible. She was a wizard, after all, if rather new at the profession.
“Guards!” called the princess.
A man and a woman in sky-blue royal Dâron livery, gold-plated armor, and tall helms topped with blue feathers entered and bowed to the princess. The man lumbered, but the woman had the grace of a dancer, or a well-trained swordswoman.
“You know where to take her,” said Gwýnnett.
The guards bowed again and helped Merry to her feet. With a hand on each elbow, they steered her out the door and down the corridor.
“The princess is so kind to give me my own room,” said Merry. “I thought I’d have to find an inn nearby, but she’s saved me the expense.”
The guards didn’t react, even though Merry added a thick layer of sarcasm to her tone, like mortar between stones in a castle’s curtain wall. After more steps than expected, Merry was standing in front of a door more appropriate for a treasure room than guest accommodations. It was banded with iron reinforcing stripes and looked like it would take hours for an axe to chop through. The door had a small viewing panel protected by vertical iron bars and a hinged section at the bottom that opened from the outside.
For delivering the prisoner’s meals, thought Merry.
The man took a key from his belt and opened the door. Merry tried to examine its details so she could fashion a duplicate from solidified sound, but the man blocked her gaze with his body. The door swung wide, its hinges making a terrible squeak.
It makes sense not to oil cell doors, though Merry, distracting herself from her current situation. I’d better get away now, before I’m inside.
She called on her magestone’s power and sent four blasts of tight light against the back of the lumbering guard’s head. The man fell forward onto the cell’s hard stone floor and moaned. He wouldn’t be getting up soon. Merry turned to deal with the other guard when she saw the woman had removed her helmet. It was Nyssia, Gruffyd’s fiancé, the woman from Brendinas she and Eynon had met on their first day down the river.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again,” said Nyssia, tossing her long blonde braid.
“The pleasure is all mine,” said Merry.
“Under present circumstances, I’m sure that it is,” said Nyssia. “I hadn’t realized you were a wizard. Nice work dealing with my colleague before I had to. He’s not one of my favorite people. Neither is Princess Gwýnnett.”
Merry smiled and gave a small bow. “Good to know we’re on the same side.”
Nyssia looked left and right down the hall. “We are if you support Queen Carys,” she said. “Now we’ve got to get you out of the palace. Follow me.”
Chapter 22
Damon
“Where’s the girl who was with me?” Damon asked a stocky young man in royal guards’ livery. “I told her to wait.”
Gruffyd, the stocky young man, was standing inside the antechamber to the king’s study along with several other men and women in armor. Unlike his fellow guardsmen, Gruffyd was smiling.
“Merry was never very good at following orders.”
“You know her?” asked Damon.
“We’re childhood friends,” said Gruffyd.
“Huh,” said Damon. “Where did she go?”
“Astrí came to take her to the queen,” Gruffyd replied.
“Who is Astrí?”
“The old queen’s personal wizard, of course.”
“Carys has a personal wizard now, does she,” said Damon, mostly to himself.
“One of the older guards told me she’s been serving the queen for decades.”
“Really?” Damon rubbed his chin. “Decades…” he said softly.
The old wizard studied Gruffyd for a few secon
ds, taking in the young man’s stocky form and heavy broadsword.
“I didn’t know,” said Damon in a more conversational tone. “I’ve been away from court for a long time.”
“I just got here,” said Gruffyd. “This is my first assignment.”
“I see, young man, uh…”
“Gruffyd.”
“Yes. Guardsman Gruffyd. I’m going to borrow you.”
“I can’t leave my post,” said Gruffyd.
“I’ll take care of that,” said Damon.
He returned to the door leading to the king’s study and pounded on it. The other guardsmen in the antechamber saw Damon’s wizard robes and wisely decided to do nothing.
“Dârio!” he shouted. “I need one of your guardsmen for a few hours.”
The king opened the door and stuck his head out.
“This one?” said Dârio. “Gruffyd, isn’t it? Do what Damon asks of you until I tell you otherwise.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” said Gruffyd, bowing.
“You don’t have to bow when you’re on duty,” said the king.
“Sorry, Sire.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it after a few more weeks,” said Dârio.
The king stepped into the antechamber and turned to Damon.
“See that you return him in one piece.”
“I’ll try my best, but no guarantees,” said Damon, smiling.
“Consider it a royal command.”
“I said I’d try,” said Damon.
“You’d better do more than try, old man. It’s important you succeed.”
Damon nodded to Dârio.
Gruffyd shifted his weight from foot to foot, sensing that the young king and the old wizard weren’t really talking about his health.
“You there! Henddyn,” said the king to an older guard.
“Sire?”
“Find that young lady in the wine-colored dress, the good shah-mat player, and send her in,” said the king. “We have unfinished business.”
Dârio winked at the older guard.
“Then see that we’re not disturbed.”
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