Viper shook his head. How far would the dragon have to go to find horses?
Poor Lorel. It would break her heart to lose another horse. Not to mention she’d be forced to abandon the wagon and hundreds of Crayl steel weapons.
With luck she was safely in Noran by now. Thunderer, please don’t let her come looking for him. The Kyridon’s quest was more important than he was. He couldn’t tell through their link, the rare moments he could sense it, how close or how far away the serpent was, only that it was somewhere north. Shouldn’t it by farther east by now?
But that raised another question, one he doubted the dragon would answer. How long had he been trapped in this abuelo-snake lair? Days? A lunar? It felt like a year. How much time did he have left before the quest unraveled, and the Mindbender attacked his home?
Chapter 18.
Going up the miswoven mountain was bad enough, but it snipped her thread she’d have to creep back down the other side. Up, down, up, down. Boring.
The grassy, rocky mountain towered over her, but it was the wrong fraying mountain, just one more bump in her road. From this angle, she couldn’t even see the kid’s prison.
Weaver’s cold toes, this place was ugly. Scrawny birches and rotted tree trunks dotted the rocky hillside. Volcanos smoked on both sides of her, cutting off any easier route. If the Weaver blessed her thread, none of them would spit fire while she was anywhere near here.
At least there was grass growing up between all them rocks. The nags didn’t have nothing to complain about. Well, not much, anyway. They acted as bored as she felt.
Lorel guided the team up another switchback, but she admitted to herself that if she didn’t mess with the reins, the roans chose the same path she would’ve. No wonder the kid hid his nose in a book. Driving was just plain boring.
Wheels crunched over lumpy stone. The wagon rattled so hard she heard Crayl steel and copper pots jangling inside. That meant stuff would be all over the floor again. She’d have to clean up the mess before Tsai got back. The girl freaked out over the strangest things.
The front right wheel crunched even louder, and something felt off on that side. She reined the team to a halt and jumped down to inspect it.
Weaver’s chamberpot. The thread-snipping wheel was broke. Now what was she gonna do?
Deep breath. Study the damage, noodle brain.
On closer inspection, only one spoke was broken, not the whole wheel. She could fix that. Even knew how, sorta, though she’d never done it by herself. Her lunars working in Edmond’s stable were paying off.
This was as good a place as any to stop for repairs. Not very defensible, but with a good view in all directions. Nothing would sneak up on them. She unharnessed the roans and set them free to graze.
Kyri-thing poked its nose under the door. “This one inquires as to the rationalization of disrupting locomotion.”
That didn’t sound like a question. Just to razz the longwinded worm she said, “Little words, toad.”
It looked down its flat nose at her and pulled its head inside the wagon.
But before it got the door closed, Izzy darted outside.
Kyri-thing snatched at Izzy with its fangs, but missed.
For a chewed-up boot, that little thing could move. It jumped clear off the driver’s seat into the grass. It bounced up the mountainside like it planned to reach the kid that very day.
Lorel chucked a rock in front of the escaping rat-dog. “If you run off, we can’t help you rescue the kid, Loom lint.”
Izzy paused, hopped around slowly, and skulked back to the wagon. Its black-pearl eyes seemed to peer up at her.
“We’re trying to get to him as fast as we can.” Lorel knelt in front of it, for all she felt dumb talking to what used to be a boot. “Every time you run off you slow us down.”
Izzy hopped over to the broken wheel and leaned against it. Was the fraying thing sulking? How could a toy sulk? The kid had way too much magic if he could give feelings to a chewed-up chunk of leather.
Shaking her head, Lorel pulled a hatchet out of the trunk and hiked to the scraggly birch with the longest, straightest branches.
Four should do. Three to practice on, one to make into a spoke, not necessarily in that order. Any extras she’d save for future trouble.
Given all the rocks on this mountain, maybe four wouldn’t be enough. She chopped off another branch and dragged them all back to the wagon.
She better set up camp before she started carving new spokes. Digging a fire pit and gathering dry wood didn’t take all that long.
Tsai rode down the hill and stared at her. “I gather the wheel needs repair.”
That was so obvious Lorel didn’t even bother to nod.
“But why the firewood?” Tsai swung out of Sumach’s saddle and looked up hopefully. “Did you find his matches stash?”
“Crap. No, I just forgot.” How could she forget eating cold weeds for ages and ages? “I’ll look again later. Right now I want to start peeling off the bark while there’s good sunlight.”
Tsai glanced up at the noon sun and nodded. “You know what you’re doing?”
“More or less.” No point in lying. The results would speak for themselves soon enough. “Go find us something to eat. And some water.” Just her luck she’d break a wheel seven thousand miles from the nearest creek.
Tsai nodded again, grabbed a leather bag and a small empty cask out of the trunk, and tied both behind her saddle. She remounted Sumac and rode back up the mountain.
The team ambled after the girl. That meant there was water on the far side. She should’ve kept going. The wheel would’ve held out that long.
Or she might’ve broken the rim. Stopping here was smartest.
Lorel chopped off the ends of her five branches, keeping them a foot longer than the old spoke, and trimmed off all the twigs. She oughta dry them over a fire, but without matches, green wood had to do.
Now she needed real tools. Planning to raid the kid’s carving drawer, she clambered into the wagon.
What a mess. And the scimitar was on Tsai’s bed again. Lorel put it back on the kid’s bunk before Tsai had a chance to fuss about it. She cleaned up the wagon a bit, ignoring Kyri-thing the whole while. The overgrown wiggler was much better at sulking than Izzy was.
When she could get the drawer open without pushing through pots and magical weapons and clothes on the floor – her clothes, she hated to admit; Tsai never left her stuff out – Lorel chose a drawing knife, a scraper, and a rasp. Chisels wouldn’t help none on this job.
Scraping off bark and shaping wanna-be spokes to match the old ones took the rest of the afternoon. She was so done with the whole project before she’d finished the fourth branch, but she kept on working. Best to finish all five. Who knew how long a green-wood spoke would hold up.
Maybe an hour before the sun would set between the peaks, Tsai rode back in with a bag filled with green crap. Water sloshed in the little cask, enough to drink but not enough to bathe in.
And Lorel really wanted a bath. She was all covered in bark and wood shavings. Dinner came first, though. “Catch a fish?”
“Nope.” Tsai swung out of the saddle, stripped the gear off her horse, and carried her haul to the cold fire pit. “You hate raw fish, anyway.”
Sumach shook all over and wandered off to graze. The roans ambled down the hill and joined her. Nice that somebody was getting food they liked, even if it was all green crap.
Her belly grumbled. “I’m hungry enough to try it again.” Weeds weren’t gonna fill her up. They never did.
Izzy hopped over and inspected the serdil-hide bag.
Tsai wrinkled her nose. “That thing is so creepy.”
Lorel snorted. “You made it.”
“I never dreamed it would move.”
Izzy tilted back on its boot heel and wiggled its little forearms.
Tsai squeaked and backed away. “Just too creepy.”
Lorel laughed. “It’s just friendly. D
on’t fuss so much.” She set the more-or-less finished spokes next to the broken wheel and gathered up the kid’s tools. He’d strangle her if she lost one.
“Are you finished?” Tsai walked around Izzy and studied the pile of spokes. “Can you replace the broken one now?”
“Later. I gotta carve out the broken ends before I can put the new ones in.” Lorel stood and shook bark and wood chips out of her clothes.
Tsai eased the carving tools out of her hand. “Get cleaned up.” She climbed up to the driver’s seat, opened the door, and grumbled, but pushed something out of her way and scooted inside the wagon. She gave Lorel a dirty look when she crawled back outside.
Lorel stopped swatting at herself and held up both hands. “I swear I put it on the kid’s bed. Maybe the toad put it there.”
Tsai rolled her eyes. “You really think that thing has a sense of humor?”
“It tells jokes sometimes.” Weird jokes, or at least, she thought they were jokes. Hard to tell with all them big words.
“You’re a good bean, Too Tall.” Tsai marched back to Sumach and unsaddled the mare. “Only you could think that beastie was funny.”
“I never said it was funny.”
Kyri-thing pushed the door open and slithered out onto the driver’s bench. “This one makes no attempt at humor. This one observes nothing entertaining in the Fire Heart’s selection of a custodian.”
That almost made sense. Lorel paused to work through all the words. “You mean the scimitar wants her to carry it around?”
“Oh, no.” Tsai jumped down from the driver’s platform and stomped to the edge of their camp. “You can’t make me carry that bog-rotted thing. I don’t want to fight a Mindbender.”
“The swordling is the first chosen of the Guardians.” The legless lizard arched its neck and glared at the girl. “Does the swordling refuse the Quest?”
Lorel sighed. That chatter worked on the kid, but it’d never work on nobody with a little sense. She arched her eyebrows in Tsai’s direction, winked, and glared at the overgrown wiggler. “We agreed to your quest, toad. But we ain’t always happy with the way you run things. How come I can’t use the scimitar?”
Tsai nodded and almost smiled.
“The Zedisti swordling is the Anchor. Its influence will be obligatory elsewhere.” The slithering toad tilted its head. “Is the Anchor unaware of the magic residing in its bahtdor-bone swords?”
“Magic?” Her voice squeaked higher than Tsai’s when Izzy got too close. “The kid never said my swords got magic.”
“All bahtdor-bone weapons are transformed through enchantment.” The stupid snake tilted its head to the other side. “Setoyan bone-carvers are valued for their ability to generate said magic. The hatchling displayed formidable aptitude in an infantile stage to warrant instruction in their techniques.”
Fraying longwinded worm. She thought its babble meant the kid learned magic as a baby without ever knowing he did. That didn’t surprise her one bit.
Her empty belly growled. Tsai’s answered.
She needed to end this conversation, anyway, before the toad tried to make Tsai swear to chop up a Mindbender all by herself. The girl had too many brains to agree to a suicide mission.
Lorel scooped up Tsai’s provisions bag, yanked it open, and winced. Green crap, top to bottom. “We gotta find the kid’s matches. Else we gotta rub sticks together like the Tabans do.” She sat down next to the cold fire pit and poked at the wood. Messing with sticks might be worth a cooked meal.
Tsai took a deep breath, like she was reining in her temper. “I’ve heard the priests in Bodora-Simni make holy fire with flint and steel.” She picked up her saddle and stowed it inside the bottom trunk, and pulled out a pair of large wooden bowls.
They kept so much crap in those three trunks, sometimes Lorel thought the kid magicked them somehow. By accident, knowing him. “We got plenty of steel. You know what flint looks like?”
Tsai waved a mosquito away from her face. “I’ve seen it a few times. I’ll watch for it. But I don’t know how to make fire with it.”
“I can figure that part out.” It surely oughta be easier than rubbing sticks together. Her dad said it took ages, the time he saw it done. She still wondered what he’d been doing on Taba. That island had one wild reputation, and Dad couldn’t stand nothing strange.
“No point in worrying about fire tonight.” Tsai took the bag away from her, poured the greens into the bowls, and handed the larger portion to Lorel. “Enjoy your salad.”
Izzy hopped over and peered into her bowl.
She held chunk of green in front of its nose. “You want a bite?”
The rat-dog skittered away hastily.
Tsai snorted, and shoveled leaves into her mouth.
“That’s what I think, too.” Lorel stuffed the green crap between her teeth. It even tasted green. Kinda bright green. Not too bad. “What is this stuff?”
“Who cares?” Tsai frowned at a leaf before eating it. “Ask Viper, once we find him. All I know is he said was safe.”
Lorel slapped at a bug crawling on her face. Her palm came away with three smears of blood. “Thread-fraying mosquitos.” She needed the kid back soon, before the Loom-breaking bugs bled her dry.
But how was she gonna get him away from a dragon?
Kyri-thing slithered down from the driver’s seat.
What did it know about dragons? She needed to start planning.
She set aside her half-eaten bowl. “Hey, toad? How do I kill the dragon?”
Tsai’s jaw dropped.
The legless lizard coiled up next to the front wheel and stared at her like it might really be listening for a change. “This one emphatically condemns any attempt to injure an air lord.”
“Attempt to injure… You mean I can’t hurt the Loom-tangling thing?”
Tsai groaned. “Are you suicidal?”
The stupid snake ignored Tsai and stared at her.
Nobody was being helpful today. She needed answers, not whining. “Then how we gonna rescue the kid?”
Kyri-thing dipped its head. “This one shall negotiate for the hatchling’s release.” It seemed to shrink a little.
Negotiate was one of the kid’s favorite words. It meant haggle. Nobody haggled with dragons. “You mean you ain’t got no idea.”
It reared up and stared down its nose.
Yup. It didn’t know, but it wouldn’t never admit it. “You really think he’s still alive?”
“This one assures the swordlings that the hatchling thrives.” Kyri-thing slithered under the wagon and into the forest on the far side.
Lorel watched its tail disappear into the brush. “I ain’t none too sure I believe you, toad. Not that I’d say so to your face.” She picked up her bowl and shoved more green crap into her mouth. “My grouchy father taught me that much good sense. Sing to the Weaver that the kid took me traveling before me and the old man murdered each other.”
Tsai stared into her own bowl. “I miss my dad. Mama, too. They never could understand why I wanted to become a warrior, though.”
Lorel’s hand froze halfway to her mouth. “Same here. Mom helped me hide my swords, but more like she thought I’d outgrow them. Dad freaked out every time I mentioned fighting.” She snorted. “And I was always fighting with somebody.”
“Same here. That’s why they saved up money for the sword school.” Tsai’s shoulder’s drooped. “But I let them down when I quit.”
“Hey, you got a job as a caravan guard.” Lorel shoved the last green chunk into her mouth. How she wished for real food. A rabbit. Pepper-stuffed chicken. Pot roast and gravy. Just thinking about it made her mouth water.
“And I wound up as a slave.” Tsai pushed her half-eaten greens in Lorel’s direction.
Yuck. She wasn’t near hungry enough to eat more green crap. She nudged the bowl back to Tsai. “You eat it. You weren’t never no slave. And now you’re part of a quest to save the world.”
Tsai rolled her e
yes, but picked up her bowl again. “May the saints of the Seven Temples protect me.”
Chapter 19.
A fish! The indigo dragon had brought a seven-foot-long albacore. Its steel-blue back still glistened with sea water. Its sides shimmered in silver iridescence. It was easily the biggest, most beautiful fish he’d ever seen, and there was a long strand of seaweed tangled around it.
Viper’s mouth began to water long before Surizhan left the cavern. His abused stomach rumbled.
Leysamura ripped open the fish’s gut. Blood spurted over her chest.
That fish was so fresh its heart was still beating. Or had been before she ate it.
He would not beg. He had some dignity left. Though not much, according to his growling belly.
Albacore roasted inside a wrapping of kelp. Oh, lightning strike the Shuttle, he was drooling on his jacket.
He wiped off his chin, sauntered out to the cliff, sat on the edge, and watched the dragon eat.
Leysamura glanced over at him. “I suppose you want a piece.”
“If you don’t mind sharing.” He swallowed a mouthful of saliva and tried to paste an indifferent expression on his face. “Or even just the seaweed.”
“The weeds? Certainly you can have those.” She lifted the strand with her claw tips and draped it around his head and torso.
Icy sea water trickled down his hair, his chest and back. He bit into the seaweed before bothering to untangle himself. Crisp, slightly sweet, the ruffled seaweed made an ideal salad. The strong saline flavor he’d disliked a lunar ago now tasted of bliss.
His stomach gurgled. It had been so long since he’d tasted a vegetable, his insides probably didn’t know what to do with it. He chomped into another leaf anyway.
“All right, you can have a bite of fish, too.” The dragon nibbled off a thick chunk and spat it onto his grill.
Dragon spit. All over his dinner. Maybe it he could singe it off.
No point in fussing. He’d eaten worse lately.
She devoured the rest of the gigantic fish as if it were a long, soft loaf of bread.
Saliva pooled in his mouth. Bread. Just a crust of bread.
Dragon's Child (The Mindbender's Rise Book 4) Page 14