Calen ran forward again immediately. “What is it? What’s wrong? Where’s Meg?”
Jakl just looked at him.
“I’m guessing the dragon hasn’t learned to speak since we saw him last,” Serek said, coming up beside Calen. Anders was a step or two behind, looking a bit unnerved.
Calen shot his master an irritated glance. “This is not the time to be sarcastic!” he said. “Something must be really wrong.” He turned back to the dragon, searching for signs of . . . he didn’t know exactly. A recent fight? A clue? A note from Meg strapped to his back?
Jakl flattened himself farther down on the ground. That message seemed pretty clear. Calen started to climb up.
Two pairs of arms pulled him right back down.
Calen rounded on the mages angrily. Serek put up his hands in a placating gesture. “Calen, just wait for a second. Let’s think about this.”
“There’s nothing to think about! Meg must be in trouble. I have to go help her. Right now.” He swallowed and looked at Anders apologetically. “I’m sorry about pushing you. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“No,” Anders said. “You should not have. It’s incredibly dangerous to interfere with another mage’s spell in progress. But I understand why you did.”
“I really didn’t even have to,” Calen admitted. “I forgot. Dragons are pretty much immune to magic. You couldn’t really have hurt him.”
Anders looked somewhat skeptical at this but said nothing. Calen decided that Serek could be the one to explain. He needed to get going.
“Calen,” Serek said again.
“What?” Calen said impatiently. At Serek’s darkening expression, he made himself take a breath and added, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. But Meg . . .”
Serek nodded. “Yes, I know. But we need to be smart about this. At the very least, Anders and I should go with you.”
“I beg your pardon?” Anders said, turning to look at Serek.
“We need to get ahead of the Magistratum. The dragon can move a lot more quickly than horses can.”
“Yes, certainly, but where exactly would he be taking us? Is it possible to, ah, steer this creature?”
Jakl turned his head toward the older mage.
“No offense intended, Mr. Dragon,” Anders added politely.
“His name is Jakl,” Calen said. “And he’ll be taking us to wherever Meg is. After that . . .”
“Can he carry all of us?” Serek asked.
“I don’t know,” Calen admitted. He turned to look at the dragon. Jakl was pretty big. It seemed like he could fit four people on his back. The three of them, plus Meg when they found her.
Jakl threw himself back against the ground, with what seemed obvious impatience. “I think that’s a yes,” Calen said.
“All right,” Serek said. “Jakl, please give us just a moment to collect our things.”
“Can he understand you?” Anders asked as the two men hurried back toward the picnic and their packs.
Calen couldn’t hear Serek’s response and didn’t really care. He itched to get moving, to find Meg. He leaned forward and stroked Jakl’s long neck. “You’re itching to get out of here, too, aren’t you?”
Jakl cocked an eye at Calen but otherwise didn’t move.
“Don’t worry,” Calen said. “We’ll help you. Everything will be all right.” He said that last part several times, for both of them. His mind was spinning with all the possible things that could have happened. All the recent talk about big, terrible events and dire predictions and his personal involvement in whatever danger was approaching was not helping. If anything happened to Meg . . . but no, she had to be all right, at least for now. Maybe in trouble, but not . . . not really hurt or anything. Certainly not . . . certainly still alive. Otherwise Jakl wouldn’t be here, seemingly okay. He held on to that thought and tried to feel better.
Anders’s voice rang out suddenly from where they’d left the horses. “Good-bye, Franny! Good-bye, Posy! Good-bye, Killer! Be nice!” Calen turned to see Anders looking after the horses as they trotted back along the road, back toward the Magistratum.
“That should confuse our pursuers, at least for a little while,” Anders said to Calen as he walked back over to where the dragon waited. Serek was still putting a few last items into his pack.
“How did you get them to head back home?” Calen asked.
“Oh, horses always want to head back home. I just helped by creating a little illusory carrot to start them on the way.”
“Illusory carrot?”
“Just what it sounds like. A fake little image of a carrot, dangling just out of reach. It will fade fairly quickly, but by then they’ll be well enough on their way that they’ll be dreaming of their stalls and fresh hay and whatever else horses like about being home. And I imagine they’ll run into whoever’s been sent after us before they get all the way back, anyway.”
“How do you do that? With your magic? Your spells before were like that, too, weren’t they? The ones you sent at the door and back down the road behind us. Like you tell them where to go and what to do.”
Anders considered him with interest. “You really can see what mages are doing when they cast, can’t you? That’s very impressive, Calen. My goodness. Well, in a sense you’re right — that’s exactly what I’m doing. It’s a bit like casting a series of spells that I want to happen in sequence, and then sending them off in a little bundle. I can show you more about it once we’re done running through the woods and flying through the air and all of that.” He turned his gaze to Jakl. “So what’s it like, riding a dragon?”
“Terrifying,” Calen said at once. Jakl looked up, his expression almost showing signs of indignation. “Well, it’s true,” Calen said defensively. “We go very high in the air and very fast, and I always want to throw up a little bit.” And this would be the first time he’d ever ridden Jakl without Meg there with him, he realized. Not wanting to look like a coward in front of her was usually what made him hold himself together. He hoped he’d manage not to scream or faint this time, without her.
And then Serek was there, and it was time to go. And as eager and desperate as he was to get moving, he’d now had too much time to anticipate the ride, and climbing up onto Jakl’s back was a hundred times harder than it had been just a few minutes earlier. Meg needs you, he told himself firmly. So stop whining and just hold on.
Serek sat behind him, and Anders behind Serek. It felt a little odd to have Serek’s arms around him — Serek wasn’t exactly the hugging sort, after all — but Calen knew he’d be grateful to have someone holding on to him once they were up in the air.
Jakl waited a moment, apparently making sure they were all settled, and then he launched himself into the sky.
Calen closed his eyes and concentrated on not falling. He could hear Anders whooping with excitement behind him. If the mage thought fast-moving horses were fun, he must be loving the dragon. Calen hoped the old man was holding on, at least. Serek didn’t say anything, but Calen thought he felt just the slightest tightening of the arms around his waist.
After a while Calen was able to make himself open his eyes. Not that it mattered, really. Mostly all he could see were clouds, with occasional glimpses of trees and landscapes below. He wondered where they were going. Maybe they should have discussed some kind of plan, he realized belatedly. He’d have to trust that whatever they needed to do to help Meg would be obvious once they arrived. He hoped the ride would be quick. He hoped they all made it there in one piece.
He hoped Meg would still be okay when they got there.
THE SUN — IT WAS DEFINITELY THE sun — had moved some hours across the sky when the sound of a distant heavy door opening and closing made Meg and Tessel both turn to face the bars of their cell. In a few moments, heavy footfalls approached, and then a pair of Lourin guards appeared. “We’re taking you to see the king,” one of them said. “You’re not going to give us any trouble, are you?”
�
�No,” Meg said. “Not at all.”
The guard who’d spoken nodded once. “Good.” He gestured, and the other guard inserted a key into the lock and swung the door open.
Meg and Tessel began to try to struggle to their feet, which was awkward with their hands tied behind them. The first guard hesitated, frowning, then spoke to his partner. “Untie their hands, Borle. They’re not going anywhere.”
“Thank you,” Meg said. At least the guards weren’t being unnecessarily cruel. That seemed promising. Although it still made her uneasy that they had thrown the princess of a neighboring kingdom into the king’s prison in the first place.
Borle untied them and then stood back, letting them exit the cell under their own power. At first Meg’s arms hurt even more after being freed, and she heard Tessel gasp with pain beside her, but after a few moments the pain began to dull into prickly pins and needles. The first guard led them back up the corridor between the cells, with Borle following behind them. All the other cells they passed were empty.
The guards took them up several flights of narrow stairs, and then down a long hallway, until they reached King Gerald’s throne room. The first guard stepped forward and bowed, announcing, “The prisoners, Your Majesty.”
“Thank you, Stefan,” the king replied. He was sitting on the single throne at the center of a raised platform in the front of the room. There was no queen of Lourin; King Gerald was older than Meg’s father was, but for some reason he had never married. There were rumors that he would be wed to one of the daughters of Baustern when she came of age; Meg felt sorry for her, if that were true. It couldn’t be any girl’s wish to marry a man old enough to be her father — maybe even her grandfather, by that time. A princess must marry for the good of the kingdom, but still . . . some matches must be harder to accept gracefully than others.
Stefan and Borle retreated to the back of the chamber and took positions on either side of the doorway.
“So,” King Gerald said, beckoning them closer. “You’re the one responsible for our recent troubles.”
“No,” said Meg emphatically. Politely, but emphatically. “I assure you, King Gerald, I am not. I came here, in fact, to try to discover the truth of what’s been happening, so I could clear my dragon of blame. And there’s —”
“If that’s true,” a familiar voice said from behind Meg, “Why come in secret in the middle of the night?”
Meg turned to see the woman she knew was Sen Eva striding into the room. She still looked like a stranger, but Meg had no doubt. She wanted to scream, to weep, to run away, to fly at the woman and try to scratch her eyes out. But she made herself stand still, hiding her fear and anger. Tessel tensed visibly beside her but kept silent. They watched Sen Eva walk up and stand beside the throne, as if she belonged there. Could King Gerald know who she really was?
“I’m sorry,” Meg said. “I don’t believe we have been officially introduced. Who are you?”
Sen Eva’s eyes twinkled at Meg, but she said nothing. King Gerald said, “Delana is one of my trusted advisors. She has been with me for many years, and I rely greatly on her guidance.” There was an odd cadence to his speech when he said these words. He was lying, of course, but Meg had a terrible feeling that he thought he was telling the truth.
“Delana asks a good question,” the king went on. “Why would your parents not send you to speak with me directly?”
“They did not send me at all. I came on my own, to see if I could prove that my dragon is not responsible for the attacks you have suffered. To be honest, I did not think you would simply take my word for it. I had hoped to find some evidence to clear his name.”
“I’m afraid I find that very hard to believe,” King Gerald said gravely. “The evidence seems very clear to us. And when Trelian’s response to our warning is to send someone here in secret . . . well, you can see how that does not help to convince us that you have nothing to hide.”
“It wasn’t Trelian’s response. It was just my own —”
“It doesn’t really matter,” the king said. “My people are frightened and angry, and I have a duty to protect and reassure them. And truly, if you did come without your parents’ consent, that hardly makes you less of a danger. We assume your dragon carried you here, rogue princess; summon him now, so we can destroy him and put all of these fears to rest.”
“What?” Meg said. “No! I swear to you, he is not responsible! Don’t you want to find out the real truth?” Calm, calm, she had to say calm. “Killing my dragon will not protect your people if there is some other creature behind the attacks.”
The king did not even seem to hear her. “We have called representatives and witnesses from all the districts to a public execution,” he said. “We will go there now, and you will call your dragon.”
“King Gerald, please,” Meg tried again. “Think about this. Even if I could somehow summon him here, what would stop him from attacking you, if that’s what you think he is capable of? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“We will be ready for him this time,” he said. “You will call him, and you will keep him from acting against us. We know that he protects you. If we have a knife to your throat, he will not attack.”
Meg felt her mouth go dry. If we have a knife to your throat — how could he so casually discuss such a violent threat against the princess of another kingdom? Was King Gerald really not worried about the risk of starting a war with Trelian?
Her breath caught in her throat. Starting a war . . .
Meg’s eyes darted back to Sen Eva almost against her will. That’s what this was all about. Sen Eva was still trying to start a war. Trying to set the conditions for the portal mage to return. She must have been planting the evidence against Jakl from the beginning. That, and then influencing the king somehow to make him believe that Trelian was attacking.
“Please. You . . . I don’t believe you are thinking clearly,” Meg said. Her voice sounded a little desperate to her own ears. It wasn’t that she was worried they’d really be able to hurt Jakl. Even if she could make him appear right now, he wouldn’t allow them to get close enough to hurt him. She was far more worried about him hurting them. If they threatened her physically, she didn’t think she’d be able to control his reaction. He would attack. And it would be her fault, and people would die, and there would be war. Sen Eva would get what she wanted, and Meg would have helped. And from everything Calen had told her, Sen Eva’s succeeding in bringing the portal mage back would be a very, very bad thing.
She could not let that happen. “King Gerald, if you’d just let me help you discover who is really responsible —”
“We know who is responsible,” said Sen Eva. “Really, child, why continue to deny it? Call your dragon, and let us put this matter to an end.”
“No,” Meg said. She kept her eyes on the king. “Please, you’re not listening. I can’t —”
“You must,” the king said. “It is the only way.” He reached up and patted Sen Eva’s hand, which was now resting on his shoulder. “Delana assures me it is so.”
“Your Majesty,” Meg said, “this woman is not who she claims to be. I don’t know what she has told you, but she —”
“Now you’re just being foolish,” the king said. “I know exactly who she is. Delana is one of my trusted advisors. She has been with me for many years, and I rely greatly on her guidance.”
Meg felt a chill as he repeated the words he’d said earlier. Sen Eva’s smile widened confidently. “Call your dragon,” she said. “Now.”
“I’m sorry, King Gerald,” Meg said. “I can’t do it. It’s not possible. If we could just figure out some other way . . .”
The king nodded as though he had expected this. “Delana said you would not be reasonable.” He nodded to Stefan and Borle. “We will be forced to take drastic measures in order to secure your cooperation.”
The guards came forward. Borle took hold of Tessel and bound her hands behind her again. Tessel looked at Meg, her eyes wide
.
“No, you don’t understand,” Meg said. “I can’t summon him. He’s — he’s waiting for me where we left him. I can take you to him, but I have no way to bring him here.”
“Now, Princess,” said Sen Eva. “I know that’s not the truth.”
“Let’s go,” King Gerald said, rising.
“Please, Your Majesty —”
“Bring them,” he said over his shoulder. He walked out ahead of them, Sen Eva at his side.
“I’m sorry,” Stefan murmured, binding Meg’s arms as well. Then the guards walked them out after the king and Sen Eva.
They were led down another long hallway and down stairs and out to a kind of public amphitheater. It was packed with people, except for a large cleared space in the front, which was blocked by barriers and armed guards. An excited muttering began when they saw the king, but it turned angry when Meg and Tessel were brought into view. They hate me, Meg realized. They think I control Jakl, and they think he killed their people and burned their farms.
She felt herself hating them back in response and had to force herself to remember it wasn’t their fault. Sen Eva was manipulating all of them somehow. She was responsible. She was the enemy.
The king led the way up onto a raised platform at the front of the amphitheater. Meg was horrified to see a tall, black-hooded figure waiting for them beside an empty chair and a small table. The insignia on his chest marked him as the castle torturer. Trelian didn’t have one of those, but she knew other kingdoms sometimes did. Lourin was apparently one of them.
Judging by the look on her face, Tessel recognized the significance of the black figure as well. She shot another terrified look at Meg.
Meg had to do something. She couldn’t let them do what they were apparently planning to do. But she couldn’t summon Jakl even if she wanted to; he wasn’t here. And even if she could do it and somehow keep him from burning them all into cinders, she couldn’t let them kill him. Not even just because she loved him. In this case at least, love and duty served the same end. If they killed him, she would almost certainly die, too. And when her parents learned that she had died here in Lourin, Sen Eva would still get her war.
The Princess of Trelian Page 14