Izzy hopped out from under the wagon and bunted against Tsai’s leg.
Lorel laughed. “So that’s where you went. You got lots of smarts for an old boot. Food?”
Tsai waggled her nearly empty bag. “I found a few greens and some cattails. Saw a bunch of fish, though, before the mountain blew up. I’ll grab one for Baybid’ba’ir, and more for us if I can.”
Fish couldn’t be as good for Baby as bunnies were, but they were better than nothing. Maybe her snares had –
Brush crackled like a herd of wild horses were tramping toward them. Way more than their three, no matter how big the roans’ hooves were.
“What is that?” Tsai drew her sword and backed toward the wagon.
Good defensive pattern, if the noisy beasts were big enough they couldn’t run under the wagon. “Get closer to a wheel.”
Tsai nodded and moved three steps to the side.
Lorel started to draw her long sword, but Baby Bear was still in her left arm. “Weaver’s cold toes. You think I got time to stick Baby inside?”
“Take the time. But hurry.”
Hurrying was a good idea. Lorel jumped up to the driver’s platform, but glanced over her shoulder before she lifted the door.
The miswoven slithering toad was wiggling toward their camp. Sing to the Weaver, it had a bunny in its mouth.
But a whole herd of overgrown deer was following the legless lizard. The lot of them moved slow and lazy, not like they were worried about a couple of very hungry hunters.
Tsai lowered her sword. “Aren’t those things what Viper called elks?”
“Seems like it.” Lorel sat on the driver’s seat and watched the parade.
Most of the critters stopped at the tree line, but one followed Kyri right into camp. The poor beastie’s eyes were glazed, like it was sick. Or drugged.
“You got a new pet, toad?”
Kyri paused near the fire, opened its mouth, and shook its head until the bunny fell out. “This one encountered the ungulates and influenced a female into tolerating manual lactation. Do the swordlings comprehend the methodology to induce lactation?”
This gotta be the strangest stunt the longwinded worm had pulled yet. “Little words, toad.”
It actually sighed. “The infant guardian needs milk. Do the swordlings know how to remove milk from an udder?”
Sing to the Weaver! It’d been worried about Baby. “I don’t. Never seen it done, neither.”
“My people don’t drink milk.” Tsai sheathed her sword and crossed her arms. “I’m not touching that thing.”
Kyri turned its snout in Lorel’s direction.
“I better learn quick, I guess.” She eased down from the driver’s platform and handed Baby to Tsai. “Find me a bowl, would you?”
Tsai cradled Baby Bear and nodded. “I hope it doesn’t kick you. I would if you poked me there.”
She’d do worse than kick anybody who prodded her privates with cold hands. Bitter blood, she’s slice them into ribbons if they touched her there at all.
“Mau?”
She couldn’t see Baby, since Tsai was digging around in the trunk, but she could hear her clear enough. “We’re working on it, sweetie.”
The stupid snake tilted its head. “This one recommends the anchor warm its phalanges.”
Warm her… hands? That made sense. She tucked her fingers under her armpits and kept them there until Tsai brought her the bowl.
But when Tsai carried Baby Bear closer, the elk sniffed the air and stomped the grass.
“This one suspects the ungulate abhors the scent of serdil.”
“Got it.” Tsai backed away hastily.
Lorel waited until the elk held still before she knelt beside it. Now what should she do?
A soft, round bag dangled between the critter’s rear legs. A pair of finger-long pegs dangled below the bag. Those must be the tits. Didn’t milk come out of there?
She held the bowl up close and gently squeezed one tit.
Nothing. No milk, no reaction. The fraying elk didn’t even wiggle.
“Mau?” Baby Bear squirmed in Tsai’s arms. Could she smell the milk, even though Lorel couldn’t get to it?
She tried again, moving from tit to tit. It still didn’t work. She better figure it out soon. Baby was hungry. “Is there a trick to this?”
Tsai backed away even farther. “Don’t ask me.”
Kyri slithered a little closer. “This one recollects that firm, downward pressure on each teat is required.”
Weaver snip her thread. She understood all them words.
But how hard did she want to tug on the titty of a critter the size of the roans? If it kicked her, it’d cave her skull in.
“Mau?”
She’d risk it. She squeezed and tugged downward. Hard.
The elk’s flank twitched.
A skinny stream of hot milk squirted into the bowl. “Sing to the Weaver.” She tugged again, more gently this time. More milk splashed into the bowl.
Baby wiggled and whimpered. Tsai hummed and mumbled to the puppy, but kept her distance from the milking action.
Once she got used to leaning on the overgrown deer, Lorel relaxed a little. Its coarse fur smelled of musk and pine sap. Its soft udder warmed her fingers. With her head tight against the elk’s flank, she could hear its sleepy breathing and feel its gut rumble.
Her hands got sore from squeezing so many times, but finally she had over a cup of milk. More than Baby could drink at one time.
She crawled out from under the critter.
The elk jumped straight up, spun around, and galloped into the forest. Brush shuddered and crackled as the herd galloped away.
“Blood in the Weave. I was hoping we could keep that beastie.” Lorel climbed to her feet, carefully balancing the bowl of milk.
Kyri just moaned. It laid so flat in the grass it looked like a snake rug.
“Oh, you was holding it somehow. Thanks.” Silly toad didn’t often admit it knew a little magic. Never when the kid was around. It must want him back something fierce. And it must like Baby.
“Mau! Maauuuu!” Weaver, that little voice was loud.
“Sentakai, could you please sit down?” Tsai had Baby clutched against her shoulder, but the puppy was wriggling so hard Tsai looked ready to drop her.
“Mau! Maaooooouuuu!”
“I’m hurrying, already.” Lorel dropped to sit in the grass near the fire.
Tsai swung Baby into Lorel’s lap.
Baby Bear stuck her snout into the bowl of milk, but immediately came up snorting bubbles out her nose.
“That’s what you get for being greedy.” Lorel tugged the bowl out of reach, stuck one finger into the milk, and held it close to Baby’s mouth. “Here, lick it up slow.”
Baby licked her finger clean, all right, but fast. And then she bit that finger hard enough to draw blood.
“Yikes! I forgot about them sharp little teeth.” Lorel scooped up a handful of milk and dribbled it into Baby’s mouth. This time the puppy sucked on her fingers. “Shouldn’t we have a cloth tit, or something?”
“Don’t ask me.” Tsai crouched next to Kyri. “My family never kept puppies for pets. We cooked them.”
“Yuck.” Baby seemed happy sucking milk from her hand, so Lorel kept on dribbling it into her. “Whatcha doing?”
Tsai stroked the snake’s head. “I think Kyri’s hurt.”
The overgrown wiggler twitched a little. “This one… is more fatigued… than anticipated. This one… must suspend consciousness… for the interim.”
“I think it means it’s tired.” Tsai stood, strolled closer to the fire, and picked up the bunny carcass. “Will it help if you eat the rabbit?”
Weaver’s cold toes, she was giving away their dinner? What were they gonna eat?
Baby slurped hard on her fingers. Lorel scooped up another handful of milk.
The snarky snake had managed to get the food Baby needed. Maybe it deserved dinner more than they did. �
��Go ahead and eat it, toad.”
“This one… is appreciative, but… has no… appetite.” It closed its eyes and got even limper.
Lorel shrugged. “Dress the bunny out, would you? Save the guts for Baby. I’ll run to the creek and get stew water as soon as she’d done here.”
Tsai blinked at her like she’d said something stupid. Now what’d she–
A high-pitched squeal shuddered across the meadow.
“What was that?” Tsai dropped the little carcass and drew her sword.
“Sing to the Weaver! My snare finally caught a bunny!” Lorel hugged Baby tight, and the puppy licked her face. “Take Baby and I’ll go get it.”
Tsai sheathed her sword. “Finish feeding her. I’ll find it.” She took off running, and trotted back just a few minutes later, bunny in hand. “Roasted rabbit, anyone?”
“Sounds like the best food since Sedra-Kei.” Lorel looked over at Kyri, who was still flat in the grass. “Unless you want it, toad?”
No answer.
Tsai walked over and started down at the snake. “I think it’s snoring.”
Baby licked half the milk out of Lorel’s hand and snuggled down in her lap. Seconds later she was limper than the toad.
“I think this one is snoring, too.” Lorel cradled the puppy in one arm and eased herself out of the grass. She carried the half-empty bowl to the wagon and sat it on the driver’s platform. “You need a hand?”
“Just more firewood.” Tsai already had one bunny skinned, and was starting on the other one.
“You’ve gotten quicker than the kid at getting supper started.” Lorel turned and stared at the mountain that was the kid’s prison. Poor little guy must be wondering if she’d abandoned him by now.
Tsai looked up at her. “What’s wrong?”
“Just worrying. Toad can’t find the kid no more. How’ll we ever find him?”
Izzy popped out from under the wagon, bounced a few times, and hopped in the direction of the kid’s mountain.
Lorel slapped her forehead. “Not again.”
Tsai stood up and stared at the little rat-dog’s retreating backside. “It’s sure ready to go.”
“Weaver’s chamberpot. It promised to stop doing that.” Lorel hugged Baby tighter and strolled after the old boot. No point in running. It could move fast for a while, but it always slowed down when it headed under the trees.
She caught up with it where the grass dwindled into dead leaves. “Not today, Izzy. Soon, I hope, but today you gotta wait.” She seized it around its middle, wedged it under her arm with Baby, and patted it on the head.
Black-pearl eyes stared reproachfully at her. She’d swear the chunk of chewed-up leather was sulking.
Loom lint. She was getting as fanciful as the kid.
She collected a handful of firewood and hurried back to camp. No way was she gonna think hard on how much magic it would take to make an old stuffed boot have real feelings.
Chapter 25.
Leysamura sat up in her nest and unwound from a sleepy Zhanamuriel. “You’re sulking again.”
He was not sulking. He’d been sitting on his shelf, trying to figure out another way out of the cavern. Not that he could tell her that.
She sauntered to her cubbyhole cavelets, rummaged through one, and held up a dark red oval with torn edges that was as long and wide as her palm. With a gleeful grin that looked very odd on her draconic face, she strutted back to his shelf. “Here, entertain yourself with this.”
Viper accepted the oval yard of red stuff gingerly. It was soft and pliable, not woven like cloth, but far too fine to be leather. “What is it?”
“Dragon egg lining.” She arched her neck proudly. “From my egg. I’ve managed to save it all these centuries. That’s just a bit of it.”
“I’m impressed.” Who would save their own egg lining? Why bother? His mother saved all her babies’ birth cords, and just the memory of those dried-up ropes still made him gag.
She sat down and watched him intently. “It looks like fine-grain suede, but if you make a bag out of it, it will hide magical items from wizards. Unless you’re a dragon yourself, it’s impossible to see us inside the web of power.”
He’d read about the web of power somewhere. Maybe in the list of sorcery levels. Or in one of Trevor’s lectures?
Would she tell him more about it?
Leysamura shook her head as if she’d heard him thinking and chose to change the subject. “You’ll need the diamond chips to cut my egg lining. Nothing else will.”
“Now wait a minute.” He held up the soft leather. It draped over his hands like thick silk. “If this stuff is so tough, I assume that dragon hide is equally resilient, even a new infant’s.”
She nodded.
“So how did that ‘hero’ kill the baby?”
“Humans are very inventive.” She glared down at him. “It was slow and messy. Do you really want to hear the details?”
Acid roared up his throat. He’d been through ‘slow and messy’ torture, himself, and had been lucky to survive it. “I’d rather not,” he whispered.
“Good.” She picked him up, held him against her jaw, and measured the space with the fingers of her other hand. “I need a string as wide as your finger, and long enough to loop freely over your head.” She plunked him onto the shelf.
How humiliating. Now he was her sandblasted measuring tape. But he’d best keep on her good side. “If that’s what you what, that’s how I’ll do it.”
Leysamura turned her back on him, strutted to her nest, and curled up around Zhanamuriel.
Viper sighed and carried the egg lining through the tunnels to his workshop. If he hurried, he’d finish in time to watch the girl in the crystal for a few minutes, and to do some exploring before the dragon woke up and stopped him.
The leather was as tough as she’d promised. It cost him several hours of sweat to cut a single even strip of the proper width and length. Many attempts and uncountable swear words later, he decided the last cord he’d cut was good enough. He couldn’t slice the membrane any straighter.
He stood and stretched his legs. She’d be alert by now. He’d try exploring again later.
With a weary sigh, he strolled out to meet the dragon.
Leysamura was awake and watching for him. She sauntered over to the cliff before he said a word.
“This will do nicely.” She plucked the cord out of his fingers, meandered away, and placed it in the cubbyhole she’d used to store the earrings.
That was it? Wouldn’t she tell him why she needed a yard-long cord?
She curled back around Zhanamuriel and laid her head on the dry grass. The sandblasted dragon went to sleep.
He shrugged and wandered back into the tunnel.
Avoiding the suicide notes written on the walls, he watched the play of dark along the tunnel walls. Darkness and the weight of the mountain pressed down on him.
Darksight was far too gloomy for comfort. He summoned the energy to create a will-light. The pale glow floated above him, but he waved it out of existence. Not worth the trouble.
He walked through the fungus beds, now and again breaking off an ear and stuffing it his mouth. The rubbish was tasteless foul, but it wasn’t worth the effort to roast it.
Finally he wound up inside his workshop. He stared at the abandoned diamond tools, wishing he had the strength to put them away. Thunderer defend him, he was so tired.
His gaze landed on the unused egg lining.
He was supposed to entertain himself with that stuff? Anything would be better than staring at walls covered in despair.
If he ever got out of here, what would be most useful? There was just enough leather left to make a decent-sized pouch. And a belt, if he joined the smaller pieces. He had a dozen wobbly, discarded cords to lace the fragments together. Twice that many, if he sliced them lengthwise. This project had potential.
A purse would be useful. He would get out of here. If he stopped believing that, he might as
well throw himself down one of the shafts. Assuming he could find one deep enough. Most of the blasted shafts were only ten or twenty feet deep. Merely breaking a couple of bones wasn’t part of his plan.
Freedom or death were his only options.
He grabbed a diamond-shard knife and began cutting.
∞∞∞
Hours later, Viper pulled the drawstring on his new purse tight and closed the overlapping front flap. He examined his handiwork critically. Not bad, though the tribe’s leather smith might call it an amateur effort. At least, she would until she tried working with dragon egg lining.
The effect was handsome, nonetheless. The fabric was port red, almost blood red, softer and finer than highest grade kid leather. Crossed, double laces at the sides formed an elegant pattern.
From a distance, the purse looked delicate.
But it only looked flimsy. Three worn-out diamond knives and many hours labor bespoke its true character.
The belt had been as hard to make, since he’d had to drill and lace together five small scraps. The lacing pattern gave it a stylish appearance, and the overlapped parts made it adjustable.
It needed to be expandable. He suspected he looked like a walking skeleton. He certainly was hungry all of the time. No, not hungry. Starving.
Bread. Just a little butter. A wrinkly, dried-up apple.
He shook away the thoughts. His mouth watered, but he had nothing to eat but fungus. Roasted or raw, he was desperately tired of it.
One day at a time. This pouch was a pledge to himself. A promise that he’d escape to the world beyond stone tunnels someday. To meadows and trees and cities. And people.
No need to die. He’d find an escape route soon.
He tied the purse to the belt and grinned. Purse-snatchers, beware. They’ll have to snatch him along with his money, and Lorel would sharply object – with the point of her sword. Nobody could steal his treasures now.
Of course, first he needed to catch up with Lorel.
He stowed the larger scraps of dragon egg lining inside the pouch. There must be something else he could make from it.
Viper stood and brushed sand and leather scrapings out of his clothes.
He’d see the open sky again, someday soon.
Dragon's Child (The Mindbender's Rise Book 4) Page 23