“Yeah.” Renata looked grim. “Some even give those too-long-gone a tea made from groundsel to hasten their departure.”
“They . . . kill them?” Liara’s eyes were wide.
“At that point,” Polandra shook her head, “there’s no saving them. Death is a blessing.”
“That’s weird, then.” Aeron twisted his lips.
Renata looked at him. “What’s weird?”
“Anaya and I flew Nesch Takatin’s dreams to see if we could find out what his plans were. At any rate, one dream was more like a nightmare. There was an enormous creature in it with the torso of a woman and the body of a sand wasp attached to her waist. There were dragon wings on her back, too. She attacked Bataan-Mok, the sand wasp body stinging the building over and over.”
“That is definitely weird.” Willem stared at him, brows raised.
“Toward the end of the dream, Takatin appeared, yelling that he would save them.” Aeron frowned. Why had the man said he would save them? He wasn’t doing anything but watching the creature attack over and over. And why had he been crying?
Aeron set that mystery aside and turned to Anaya. Sharrah was still cleaning Anaya’s wounds. Oddly, her body began to tremble and a tear fell from her cheek.
“Sharrah?” Aeron pushed Gregor’s hand aside and stepped closer to her. “What is it?” Had he missed something in his cursory examination at the dunes? Was Anaya hurt worse than he’d seen?
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“For what?” Cheddar asked the question Aeron was thinking.
Sharrah’s voice was quiet. “For the longest time, I was worried that dragons were not natural, were not . . . like us. They’re so different, so . . . perfect.” She looked up at Anaya. “But just look at her. She feels pain.” Sharrah looked back the the wound. “She bleeds like we do, can be hurt like we can. Dragons are like us.” She looked up again. “I’m sorry I didn’t think so before.”
Anaya tilted her head and then licked Sharrah’s cheek.
Aeron said, “I think she accepts your apology.”
Anaya chirped in agreement.
Lips twisted in a half smile, Sharrah said, “Okay.” She wiped her cheeks then returned to tending the raw scrapes.
Once Gregor was satisfied that Aeron’s forehead was clean enough, it didn’t take long for him and Sharrah to finish dressing Anaya’s wounds.
“There,” Sharrah said. “Anaya should be right as rain in no time.”
Feel better, dear-heart?
I do, though there is still pain.
It will fade as the scrapes heal.
Balam moved next to her and the two dragons began chirping at each other.
Tonight, or maybe in the morning, I’m going to give you a nice brushing, dear-heart.
That will be good.
“While they get caught up,” Aeron said, watching the two dragons, “let’s get to the office.” His shower would have to wait.
Guildmaster Millinith stood once everyone had been seated. “Aside from minor injuries,” she glanced at Aeron’s forehead, “the rescue effort seems to have gone as planned.”
“Not exactly,” Aeron said. “For some reason, Nesch Takatin was going to execute her himself.”
Millinith frowned. “But as far as anyone has been able to determine, Nesch Takatin is not working with the old guard, so why is he so bent on killing Anaya? A dragon he knows is part of the Dragon Craft Guild. Why would Nesch Takatin want to draw that kind of attention?”
“I don’t know,” Aeron replied. “It was weird. He kept trying to say it was the umeri, that it was the Order who wanted her dead. But if that was the case, the executioner would have been there.”
“It’s almost as if he’s deliberately trying to provoke us.”
Aeron turned to Fillion. It did seem as if Takatin was going out of his way to incite the ire of the Dragon Craft Guild. But why—
“Why would Nesch Takatin want to do that?” Gregor asked. “You’d think he would want as little attention as possible on them due to their ties to National Transportation. Especially with what those people are doing in the flats.”
Fillion twisted his lips. “That camp was pretty secure. It was very hard to get anywhere within it.”
“Isandath told me that Nesch Takatin had a visitor from National Transportation drop by several times,” Polandra said. “As often as those visits were, I’m guessing the person came from the camp.”
“The Nesch having visitors isn’t too unusual, though,” Renata noted. “He’s usually the one important guests or visitors first meet. The Capu is the ideological leader of the Order, so to speak, but the Nesch handles most of the day-to-day things, including meeting with important outsiders.”
“So Nesch Takatin is likely the one that worked out the land purchase deal with National Transportation,” Gregor said.
Renata nodded. “Probably.”
“Nesch Takatin,” Fillion murmured, “and National Transportation.” He frowned.
“None of this explains Nesch Takatin’s actions,” Guildmaster Millinith said. “What are his plans?”
“What if—” Fillion sat up. “What if the special investigator got the grit from Nesch Takatin?”
The Guildmaster turned to him. “He’s NT?”
“Maybe.” Fillion’s brows drew together. “It seems completely at odds with what someone in his position would want to do, but . . . everything he’s been doing is off.”
“Why, though?” Cheddar shook his head. “It beggars belief.”
Aeron agreed. With all the things Nesch Takatin had been doing, it almost seemed as if the man wanted to—
Eyes wide, Aeron said, “Groundsel tea.”
“Tea?” Lord Baronel looked confused.
Aeron looked at Fillion. “By the gods, Fillion’s right. NT is Nesch Takatin.”
“What makes you so sure?” Master Doronal looked at Cheddar. “Like he said, it beggars belief.”
Aeron looked from Master Doronal to Guildmaster Millinith and then to Lord Baronel. “In a nightmare Anaya and I witnessed while flying his dreams, Nesch Takatin screamed out that he would save Bataan-Mok from the monster stinging it.”
“The monster with the body of a sand wasp?” Willem asked.
“Exactly,” Aeron said. He stared down at the table, thinking out loud. “On the face of it, everything this man has done seems ridiculous. Why draw so much attention to the Order? Why anger an entire craft guild? The thing is, what if he considers the First Principle to be sand wasp poison eating away at the Corpus Order?” He looked at Renata. “Tell me, what is the only way to help someone when that poison has pulsed through their heart for over a century?”
Renata raised a hand to her mouth and whispered, “Groundsel tea.”
Polandra sat forward. “He means to destroy the Order?”
“What is groundsel tea?” Lord Baronel looked from Renata to Aeron.
“A brew made from a poisonous plant, Lord Uncle.” Gregor’s voice was quiet. “It’s used for euthanasia.”
Lord Baronel raised his brows. “I see.”
“If that is his purpose,” Guildmaster Millinith said, “then all his actions make sense.”
“We cannot let him succeed.” Renata stared at Aeron. “As flawed as it is, the Order is too important to the region.”
“Yeah,” Aeron nodded. “We want the Order changed, not destroyed.”
“We have to stop him,” Fillion said. “It’ll be the equine flu all over again, but instead of the East, it’ll be the villages that suffer.”
“Because we know his true plans,” Master Canneth said, “it should be easy to thwart them.”
“There are two major issues we’ll have to address,” Master Doronal said. “First, we need to prove that all or most of the illicit activities the Order undertook were Nesch Takatin’s or were at his urging. Second, and this is just a continuation of your previous efforts, the people of the Order need to be shown that killing dragons is n
ot their purpose, killing nahual is.”
“And they need to accept it.” Polandra stared at him.
“Exactly,” Lord Baronel said. “Any organization is its people. If you win their hearts over, the Order will follow.”
“As far as the first issue,” Guildmaster Millinith said, “I think I know someone who would be interested in finding out exactly who was assisting National Transportation at the flats.”
“Master Gella.” Fillion smiled.
“Indeed.” The Guildmaster looked at Aeron. “As far as convincing people, I think Capu Cirtis had the right idea. We will continue doing patrols in the South as we were, we just won’t be doing so to assist manis patrols anymore. We will kill the nahual ourselves and then drop them off, as visibly as we can, at the village nearest to where we found the nahual. And don’t be shy about fighting a nahual in view of people, either. The more that see what we do, the better.”
“You will still avoid manis patrols, though,” Master Doronal said, “correct?”
“Absolutely,” Guildmaster Millinith said. “Fighting nahual is difficult enough without having to keep an eye out for a hand. And, too, I don’t want any more of us captured.” She turned to Polandra. “You’ll need to continue meeting with Isandath to obtain updated patrol routes, so that we can adjust ours to where they will not be.”
Polandra nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“In fact, I want you to go down there shortly and have Ikan speak to Isandath. See if he has any news about reactions to today’s events.”
“Will do.”
Aeron frowned. All this was well and good, but sand was starting to chafe in his crotch. He surreptitiously adjusted himself and the skirt. “If you don’t need me for anything more, Guildmaster, I’d like to go get a bath.” He twisted his lips in a grimace. “I’ve got sand everywhere.”
“I don’t have anything more. Unless the masters have something? Or Lord Baronel?” She looked at the others.
Master Canneth and Master Doronal shook their heads.
“Well,” Lord Baronel said, “I don’t have anything either, except to say that it’s good to have you and Anaya back home.”
“Thank you, my lord. It’s amazing to be back home.”
Aeron nearly ran to his room at the other end of the building. After stuffing a change of clothes in his satchel, he glanced in the den at Anaya. Balam was with her, and they were chirping at each other. Balam would occasionally touch his nose to hers. Smiling, Aeron made for the Bath Hall.
He nearly fell asleep in the tub. It was so warm, so soothing, and so peaceful. But this was most definitely not where he wanted to sleep tonight. He wanted a nice, comfortable bed that had a mattress stuffed with something other than hard, lumpy grass. With a relaxed sigh, he sat up and got to finishing his bath.
When the water drained out of the tub, he saw a shocking amount of sand in the bottom. Where in Yrdra’s deepest hells had all that even been? He washed it down the drain and grabbed a towel. The sooner he finished, the sooner he’d be back at the stable.
A cool evening breeze blew through his slightly damp hair as Aeron hustled along the cobbled road. At the intersection, a turner reached up with her tool and flipped the mirror on the street lamp. Its light bathed the road below. Aeron glanced down the other street and saw another member of the light crew working on the street lamps down that way.
He’d always taken them for granted. The street lamps, the light crew, even the cobbled streets themselves. Hells, he’d taken everything in the Caer for granted. And he shouldn’t have. No one should. Everything could be taken away at any moment. Accident, illness, nahual, or someone with a confused idea of how to fix something. You never knew what could snatch away all you took for granted.
Maybe that’s why he felt this odd shimmer of excitement, of expectation. As he walked into the courtyard, he realized that the same feeling came through the link from Anaya. He felt slight pressure in his chest, and each beat of his heart was strong. He almost felt breathless, too, and a tingle filled his belly, spreading outward. He felt more alive than he could ever remember feeling before. Was it because he was home? Because they were home?
As he walked in the dragon door, he spied Anaya and Balam still chirping at each other, touching noses and cheeks. Aeron left them there and stepped into the study.
Willem was sitting in the desk chair, reading. He smiled when Aeron walked in. “Was your bath nice?” He stood and set the book on the desk. “I bet they didn’t even let you bathe while you were held captive.”
Aeron dropped his satchel on the floor.
“It’s odd,” Willem said. “I’ve had this strange but nice feeling the past hour, almost—”
Aeron closed the distance and threw his arms around Willem.
Willem, knocked a step back from the impact, returned the embrace. “There was a lot happening when we finally got to you and Anaya, so I waited. You don’t know how difficult that was. I wanted to do this, and I wanted to check every inch of you to be sure you were okay, the moment I saw you.”
Face pressed into Willem shoulder, Aeron said, “In that gaol cell, I missed a lot of things, but you I missed the most.” He took a deep breath. “Now I feel like I’m home.”
Willem’s arms around him, the hints of leather and feed still lingering in the air of the converted tack room, and even the faint hum of the thermal conditioner, it all made Aeron happy. His heart was beating faster, too.
Willem took a quick breath. “What—”
From the link, the excitement and expectation from Anaya surged, and was accompanied now by something like hunger.
Willem gulped and exhaled sharply. “What is Anaya doing to Balam?”
Aeron looked out the door to the den. Anaya was making a strange sound as she stroked her cheek along Balam’s neck. She then leaned back and suddenly bit Balam. The bite was not hard, not enough to puncture hide, but it wasn’t a nibble either.
Aeron stared. He could feel the green dragon’s neck in his mouth, muscles firm but gently yielding. The heartbeat pulsing in it began to quicken.
Balam let out a low, extended rumble. At the same time, Willem let out a breathy sigh.
Aeron’s heart was racing and he began to pant. Other parts of his body were responding as well. “What is happening?” He looked at Willem. The blond boy’s face was flushed and he was panting, too.
Mouth open, Willem stared at Aeron. “I think . . .” He took another breath. “I think we both know what’s happening.”
A loud thump from the den followed by the building shaking drew their attention. Anaya was circling Balam, tail thrashing about. It hit a support and the building shook again.
Guildmaster Millinith, Master Doronal and Master Canneth appeared in the office doorway.
“What in hells is going on?” Guildmaster Millinith looked in at the two dragons.
“Anaya!” Aeron took a step in the den. “Not in here! You’ll bring the building down around us!”
Anaya spun on him. Still rumbling oddly, she looked around at everyone and then back at Balam. She let out a roar and raced out the dragon door for the yard. Once there, she leapt into the sky.
Letting out a rumble that turned into a roar, Balam tore after her.
As their wing beats faded, Guildmaster Millinith walked in the den. “Would someone like to explain what that was all about? What’s gotten into Anaya and Balam?”
“I think it’s fairly obvious,” Master Doronal said. He glanced down and then back up to Aeron’s face.
Face warming, Aeron quickly placed his hands in front of his tented trousers.
“The link allows emotions to pass either direction,” Master Doronal said. “I would imagine very powerful emotions would have very powerful responses.”
“Yes,” the Guildmaster said, “and?”
“And,” he continued, “Anaya is well over a year old. Balam is just about the right age, too.”
Brows drawn together, she looked at Willem and the
n at Aeron. She looked at his face, no doubt noting his flushed cheeks, then she glanced down at his hands. Her eyes widened. “Oh.” Her cheeks reddened. “I see.” She hastily looked away and said, “That is, I understand.”
Turning to Master Doronal, she said, “Perhaps we should continue our meeting in your office. To give them, ah . . . privacy.”
The Guildmaster hurriedly made her way back to the office. Moments later the sound of a door opening and closing could be heard.
With a smile, Master Doronal said, “Best wishes for a viable egg her first time, Aeron.”
Face hot, Aeron nodded. “Thank you, sir.” The feeling of cold water suddenly washed over him and he gasped.
“What is it?” Master Canneth took a step forward.
The stable faded from Aeron’s view. Instead he felt and heard bubbles streaming, felt her legs and wings—his legs and wings—pulling through the water. Balam, their pursuer, chased behind. With a cunning bark, muted and bubbly, they turned and waited.
“They’re underwater, in the lake,” Willem said.
Aeron blinked, back in the stable. A torrent of emotions, senses, and sounds came from Anaya. Everything was rushing through the link.
“And she’s—” Willem gulped. “We have to go.”
Aeron nodded furiously and turned to follow him. Glimpses of wings, legs, tails, and of tumbling in water, filled his mind. That and what Anaya was doing.
“I’d suggest shutting the doors.” Master Canneth’s voice came from behind. “Lots of visitors pass through.”
They slammed and bolted the bedroom doors.
+ + + + +
Nesch Takatin’s voice boomed out. “Silence! One question at a time!”
Surprisingly, the umeri quickly complied. In the tiered seats arrayed in a semicircle, faces stared at him. About twenty feet before the podium, Capu Cirtis watched from the Capu’s chair at the front and center of the seats. The man didn’t attend many meetings of the umeri, but this was different. Everything about today had been different.
Nesch Takatin rubbed his lip. “Again, we do not know what occurred. When the mist appeared, I saw the boy and dragon . . . sink into the ground, fall downward. There was a brief glimpse of sand dunes before the mist vanished, and all that remained of the platform was what you’ve seen.”
A Storm in the Desert: Dragonlinked Chronicles Voume 3 Page 47