“Quick!” he whispers. “Gimme the dragon thing, you know, the jewel . . . your grandmama’s pin!”
She blinks at him. He mimes fiddling with the door, and she gives him back a steady, searching look while she pulls her right-hand pocket inside out and unpins the red stone. He sees her overcoming heavy reluctance in order to hand it over to him. He smiles at her. “You’ll have it back in a minute.”
In less than that, he’s used the pin’s long-pointed fastener to pick the lock. They’re inside a narrow inner hallway, lined with doors. The blood red stone is warm in his palm. He remembers how he’d felt sure it was alive, when it was stolen and resting in his pocket. As jewelry goes, the thing’s unnatural, but he finds that comforting now, and lets his thumb trace the miniature dragon carved into its polished surface. He hands it back without a qualm. “That did the trick, huh?”
Now her eyes are full of admiration for his cleverness. N’Doch laughs. She’s an easy mark if she’s wowed by an easy piece of juggling like that. But it makes him feel good anyway. He starts checking behind doors down the hall. Most of them are closets, filled with the long white tunics that the flappers wear, and shelves full of linens and candles and boxes of incense. But the door at the end leads them into a small antechamber, hung with soft, sound-absorbing draperies, and from there through a curtained arch into darkness.
They both stop short at the archway. They are in a huge, domed room. It’s the deep blue of the zenith just after sun-down, and it sparkles with a thousand electric stars. In the center, a big golden throne waits in a lavender spotlight.
“Oooh,” marvels the girl, turning to stare all around her.
“Look later.” N’Doch has just noticed the ring of chairs set one next to the other all around the wall. There’s a “guest” seated in every one of them, sitting, dozing, staring in meditative poses, or chatting with neighbors. He grabs the girl’s hand and makes a beeline for the outer door. He’s almost there when a “guest” rises to stop him, a youngish woman who lays a pleading hand on his arm.
“Will the Mahatma return to us soon? Will I have my Reading today, do you think?”
“Er . . . she’s busy right now,” he replies helplessly.
She grips his arm harder. “Please, ask her to hurry. I do so need her to tell me what to do about Mama.”
“Do whatever you feel like,” N’Doch wants to say, and finds that he actually has. He doesn’t know why but he’s unreasonably pissed at this woman. “Go out into the streets. See what’s really happening. Go read a PrintNews.”
The woman stares at him. Cautiously, she draws her hand away. N’Doch moves on.
Outside, the light and heat are blinding, even though it’s getting on toward late afternoon. The sky is a lurid yellow, thick with dust. He hears sirens and gunfire from several directions now. Copters race and hover like birds of prey, and off to the south, twin plumes of oily black smoke curl up from the Palace district. Another coup, no doubt of it. Since none of the past coups have ever seemed to change anything, N’Doch can’t see why this one should get Baraga in such an uproar. Can’t he just lay low like everyone else until one side or the other runs out of ammunition?
N’Doch suspects now that the answer could be found in a detailed and daily reading of PrintNews. He has that sinking feeling he gets when he’s understood something big enough to make him realize how little he knew before he understood it.
On the terrace outside the door, groups of “guests” are gathered around the vid screens built into neat stucco pillars here and there. He takes the girl over to look, certain for one insane moment that the vid stations have seen the light at the same moment that he has, and are broadcasting actual news of the coup. But the “guests” are watching one or the other of the late afternoon series with total absorption, as if completely unaware of the chaos outside the gates. N’Doch finds himself angry at them, too, and he drags the girl away quickly to avoid a scene he’s not sure he would even be able to explain to himself.
He leads her around toward the back, sticking close to the house, staying under trees and behind bushes where he can. He makes her trot briskly across the open lawn and gravel driveway between the house and the grove. A few shots ring out, but they are distant, random fire. N’Doch slows once they’ve reached the trees, but the girl runs on ahead of him, following the call of her dragon, eager to see him after so long. Of course, it hasn’t been so long, just since the morning, but even N’Doch will admit it feels like an eternity. By the time he’s made it to the clearing, she’s already got herself pressed up against the big guy between his paws, with his great horny snout bending over her protectively. But she looks up at N’Doch with a wondering gaze and exclaims, “He thinks I’ve heard the Summoner!”
Water shifts and stretches her neck.
—I think she’s heard someone else entirely.
N’Doch senses the dragons’ restless, edgy mood. Don’t want to rush this, he thinks. I gotta sell it to ’em right, or they’re not gonna buy it.
He smiles, he hopes ingratiatingly. “Well . . . when you’re done arguing about her story, I’ll tell you mine.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“But what temptation could it have meant?” the girl is asking.
N’Doch is stretched out on the soft thick grass. One part of his brain is wondering why it’s so much cooler in this clearing than it is outside. The other is watching the girl for a sign that she’s kidding, because he just can’t believe she doesn’t know the answer to her question. Of course, she can’t see what her face does when she talks about this dude back when. She thinks she’s telling out her dream story like it could’ve happened to anyone, like it’s just some coincidence she’s dreaming about this guy, but if he could hand her a mirror to look at, the glow in her eyes might just about blind her.
N’Doch considers her question answered, and wants to move on to the next one, which is, what’s wrong with her being tempted? This Köthen sounds like a courageous dude and he’s straight with his men and all, and him being a baron like the girl’s father should make him just about right for her, at least as far as N’Doch sees it.
So he says all this, and the girl shakes her head, then blushes furiously and clams up. Both of the dragons stare off into the trees that rise around in an oh-so-perfect circle, pretending like they’re not even involved in this conversation, so for a while, there’s a silence so big you could drive a couple of APCs right through it. Instead, N’Doch sits up, and drives through it himself. Might be a leftover from his irritation with the Glory-guests, but he’s suddenly tired of coddling the girl like she’s in nursery school. Time she grew up a little.
“So what’s the deal? You hot for this dude, or not?”
An instant later, he wishes he could be the girl hearing Water’s relayed translation. First, she looks blown-away astonished. Next she gets stony mad. Her whole body pulls itself up and gets taller.
“What’d you say to her?” N’Doch’s just sure the blue critter’s got a smirk hidden somewhere.
“In my father’s court,” the girl gets out finally, “such insulting remarks would not go unpunished.”
N’Doch spreads his hands. “Where’s the insult? You like a guy’s looks, what’s wrong with that?”
“To imply that I would have such base thoughts, such . . .” But she can’t even say it out in words.
“C’mon, girl, don’t get all huffy. It’s just sex. It’s no big deal.”
Water finally decides to lend him a hand.
—It is a big deal if it’s what she’s supposed to be resisting.
N’Doch is dogged. The girl is still stonyfaced and looking away from him, but he won’t have one of his favorite pas-times being labeled base or insulting. “It’s not the sex that’s the big deal, y’know what I mean? The sex is just the bait. The question is, why is the trap being set?”
—Point taken.
“Yeah, it’s pretty simple, don’t you think? Something wants her back there,
so it puts this cool handsome dude in her path. She said herself it might be the loony priest calling her into these dreams.” N’Doch is surprised to hear himself discussing all this as if it’s a series of rational events with your normal type of cause and effect. Maybe he’s starting to take this “Quest” thing seriously.
The thought of the priest makes the girl set her high-toned anger aside. “Yes, it could be. He was there in my head and he said I would never wake . . . Oh. I can’t ever go to sleep again.”
—I will watch while you sleep.
—Watching may not be enough, brother. Whatever Power is doing this, it seems sure it has found a weakness worth exploiting.
—But surely, sister, I can protect my companion. . . .
—Can you? I wonder. I am inclined to suspect our brother Fire in this also, using the priest as he would have used Lealé. He will know our secrets and our ways. Our companions will be vulnerable to him.
The big dragon rose up on his haunches and dipped his horned head. For some reason, N’Doch thought of a great tree tossed with wind.
—You are too free with your accusations, sister! You offer no proof of Fire’s involvement but your own suspicions.
—You will recall, brother, that I remember him and you do not.
Earth draws his head into his shoulders until his neck’s nearly disappeared. Making himself like a rock, N’Doch notes. Stubborn. But N’Doch likes him for wanting to believe the best about this other brother he has no memory of. So maybe he’s dead wrong, but you gotta hand it to the big guy for trying. N’Doch would never stand for someone dumping all over Sedou.
“If it is Fire, who saved me from him?” asks the girl. “And who is the prisoner in the wood?”
—It’s the Summoner. It must be!
—Whatever saved your companion’s life fought off a dragon. The only power capable of thwarting a dragon is another dragon.
—That’s assuming it was Fire who threatened her, but . . .
—Who would know to seek a dragon’s help but another dragon?
—Sister, listen! I recognize this Presence from my companion’s report, this Voice that is not a voice. It’s the One who’s been calling me since I awoke!
—But, brother, you don’t think it odd that our sister Air has not been heard from?
N’Doch has learned a thing about dragons: They love to argue. Particularly in ways that seem to lead the debate away from the obvious solution, like they wouldn’t want all the fun to be over too quickly. N’Doch has no patience for this. He figures they should be doing it on their own time.
“Why can’t it be both?” he demands loudly. He’s glad to have the fourth dragon brought into the mix, ’cause then he won’t have to be waiting for any more of ’em to turn up.
Both dragon heads swivel to stare at him. The girl, bless her, actually giggles. N’Doch guesses she’d prefer answer to argument also. So then it’s another one of those APC-sized silences, during which N’Doch notices for the first time that he hasn’t been hearing the sirens or gunfire from outside, even though, looking through the trees toward the house, he can see torn shreds of smoke rising from the streets beyond the compound wall.
He gets up. “You guys just give it some thought, eh?” He turns away and walks into the first row of trees. The air around him feels very . . . well, blue. He still hears nothing, but then, as he moves farther in, faint sounds come to him, more like cap pistols and mosquitoes than gunfire and copters, even though the house is no more than two hundred yards away. He backs up a few steps into silence, moves forward back into the zone of sound. He grunts and returns to the clearing. Everyone there is in exactly the same position they were in when he walked away. “You know,” he says, “there’s something weird about this wood, too.”
* * *
The suddenness with which the debate was stilled told Erde that N’Doch had hit upon a true understanding. He did have a gift for cutting to the simplest explanation. It was not a gift the dragons appreciated, as fascinated as they were with the subtle and the complex and the ambiguous. But this time, his answer was so compelling, he got no argument.
Earth’s inner rumble was hopeful.
—Could it be? Our sister Air is the Summoner?
—There is logic to it. She is the eldest.
Water fastened onto the idea as if it had been her own.
—But who could hold her prisoner?
—I think why is the only unanswered question, brother.
“If you go into the wood, maybe she can tell you,” Erde offered. “Maybe she just couldn’t speak to me.”
“We oughta go back and check it out.” N’Doch wandered restlessly, obviously ready for action. “We’ll have to really work on Lealé to get her to let us in again.” He paused. “But first . . . are you ready to hear why that might be even harder than it should be?”
Erde thought she might have sensed reluctance in him, but told herself he was just pausing for effect, the way Cronke the bard used to do at a particularly critical point in a story. “Of course,” she said, to hurry him along.
N’Doch smiled, but not his usual easy smile. It was something much more complicated. “Most times, this’d be about the worst thing that could happen. But now I’m not so sure. I got an idea that might turn it in our favor. Guess who Lealé’s rich boyfriend is . . . ?”
* * *
It would have been safer and more sensible to stay behind in the grove with Earth, as N’Doch suggested, but Erde felt that Duty refused her such luxuries. Besides, if she stayed behind, she’d have nothing to distract her from the disturbing thoughts that N’Doch had put into her mind about Baron Köthen. To think she might be in love with him was one thing—young girls did that sort of thing all the time. It was perfectly proper. But the possibility that she might be having . . . lustful thoughts? The very idea shamed her. Surely she was better brought up than that. Yet N’Doch seemed to think such thoughts were natural, as he put it, “no big deal.”
So the strange noises and tension outside the grove seemed preferable to the strangeness inside her head, even though N’Doch did warn her that it might be getting dangerous out there. She understood that a battle was being waged, not with crossbows and lances but with the terrible weapons called guns. N’Doch described their magic to her: They shot many arrows without shafts and they could kill at a very great distance.
Water would come with them of course, so once again, N’Doch sang the song about his lost youngest brother that enabled the dragon’s transformation. Erde thought he sang it even more poignantly than before, and she was delighted to see little Wasser again.
N’Doch took the lead on the way out, cautioning them both to stay alert and move quickly. With shame, Erde recalled how she had once questioned his worthiness as a dragon guide. She hadn’t then understood how very different this new world would really be, how different would be the knowledge and skills required for survival in it.
He stopped as they emerged from the deepest part of the grove, just where the outside sounds became audible. “Here’s where they start being able to see us again.” He hunkered down to survey the compound. Erde could feel that heat radiating toward her in waves. A few more steps forward and it would close around her again, making the sweat rise on her instantly and filling her lungs with dust.
N’Doch touched her arm suddenly and pointed. A thing shaped like a dragonfly sat on the grass at the far end of the grounds. As they watched, parts of it began to rumble and rotate.
“Someone’s leaving,” N’Doch murmured. “The Big Man himself?”
Several men sprinted from the side of the house toward the dragonfly thing. Wasser counted under his breath. Just as the men disappeared into the machine’s belly, a series of loud pops came from over the compound wall, like the noise of ice breaking up on a river in spring.
“Ha! Missed!” N’Doch’s wide mouth curved into a tight grimace that was almost a smile. “Hard to tell, but it looked like him to me. Damn!”
Erde glanced at him sideways. She would have thought he’d be relieved if his enemy Baraga was leaving. Now he wouldn’t have to employ the elaborate ruse he’d described, by which he could protect them all by turning this terrible man’s greed and self-interest to their own advantage. It had sounded like a very risky proposition to her, largely because it did involve putting themselves into Baraga’s hands. Earth had not liked this scheme overmuch. He remembered the dogs at Baraga’s beach. So Erde was glad that the man was leaving. Not having to deal with him at all seemed by far the most preferable situation.
But N’Doch was crestfallen. As the dragonfly lifted into the heat-shimmered air and glided away into the smoky yellow sky, he watched after it as if it had robbed him of some priceless treasure.
“Damn!” he said again.
“It will be easier to talk Mistress Lealé into helping us now,” Erde reminded him.
“Yeah. For sure.” But his tone was so dispirited, she couldn’t even ask him why. He waited until the dragonfly was out of sight, then waved them to their feet and forward. When they cleared the last of the trees, he made them speed up for a run across the open lawn to the house. Again, Erde heard that odd, sharp crackle in the distance, like embers popping in a fire. Gravel sprayed up a few feet to her right.
“Keep low!” N’Doch hissed. “Head for the bushes!”
Gravel and dirt spattered Erde’s cheek, from the left this time. Wasser sped forward. N’Doch grabbed Erde’s hand, nearly yanking her off balance.
“Move! They’re shootin’ at us!”
He ran, she ran, then he shoved her hard down behind a thick row of bushes hugging the side of the house. Wasser was already there.
“From the south, I think.”
N’Doch nodded, catching his breath. “Didn’t expect this quite so soon.” Together they scanned the rear of the compound: the long low building that stabled the riding machines, the high wall behind it, and the crumbling facades of the buildings that crowded up against the wall and gazed down into the grounds, Erde imagined, with envy.
The Book of Water Page 30