The Dragon Caller

by Pauline M. Ross

  Garrett had no idea how to respond to her. If he showed the least understanding of her meaning, he would merely be confirming the truth of the rumours. Yet if he said nothing, she might still notify her superiors. And above all, there was the oddness of having such a conversation at all with a Tre’annatha. Was she truly on their side? No, it was better to assume that, like all her kind, she was on her own side, forwarding her own plans and was just trying to manipulate him to that end.

  “You are discreet,” she said, when he made no response. “I like that. Yes, I approve. Then let me be as plain as I can. I think Ruell should leave here as soon as he can.”

  “To go where?”

  “That doesn’t matter, and whatever he decides, he shouldn’t tell anyone. But if Ruell wants to be safe, he should go to the Plains of Kallanash. If he has any magic in him, it will be ineffective there and he will not be vulnerable.”

  Garrett knew that to be true, although it was too far away to be a practical option. For the first time he began to suspect Famri was genuine in her advice. But one question burned in his mind.

  “Why?” he said. “Why by the Nine would you tell me this?”

  She gave a rueful half smile. “Just because I am Tre’annatha, Garrett, doesn’t mean I have to believe everything my people do and say. I would love to have magic back in the world – true magic, not just your little pleasant moments. I want to banish all illnesses, and war, and food shortages, and unhappiness. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

  “I don’t believe in a perfect world,” Garrett said.

  “Well, perhaps there’s no such thing, but a great many improvements could be made. But the price that has been paid – that is still being paid – to uncover magic and nurture it… oh, Garrett, the evil that is done! You cannot imagine. Anyone with the least sign of ability is locked away for ever in the Program, and even with all our efforts, no progress has been made. It is not working, and I cannot in good conscience see a boy like Ruell trapped. So he must leave, and soon. I can keep Darro under control for a while, but Ruell should not delay.”

  Garrett pondered that. “I find it interesting that you’re in charge,” he said slowly.

  “A woman, you mean?”

  “Yes. In fact, it’s very unusual to see any Tre’annatha women, isn’t it?”

  “Indeed. Mostly they hide away, but I am a queen now, Garrett. I have produced my three children, and now I am free to go where I will. I am supposed to be looking for a place to start a new nest, but there is no compulsion. No one tells a queen what to do. So you see, you may trust me, for I’m not being ruled from the homeland. I’m completely on Ruell’s side, and when I say that he should leave, I am very sincere.”

  “I believe you,” Garrett said, and it was no more than the truth. If she were pretending, she should be making a living in dramatic performances, because he’d never seen more convincing acting. She genuinely wanted Ruell to run away, he just wasn’t sure why. “I’ll talk to him about it, and see how soon we can gather some guards and—”

  “Ah, no,” she said. “Much, much better if he goes alone.”

  “Alone? Not even one friend for company?”

  “Best not,” she said crisply. “A boy of his age, wearing worker’s clothes – he can travel anywhere and not attract attention. He’ll be quite invisible. But guards, even one bodyguard, like yourself – no, a man carrying a sword can never be inconspicuous. Ruell must be alone.”

  And that was when Garrett knew that she was lying.

  7: A Short Cut (Ruell)

  Ruell had never been happier in his life. He sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by great mounds of books, turning pages in stunned wonder, as Darro opened box after box, burrowing industriously and every few moments emerging triumphantly with another treasure in his hand. Not many were particularly about dragons, unfortunately. “This is about the empire, it will surely mention dragons,” Darro would say. Or, “This might have something, it describes mountains and that is where they breed.” Ruell didn’t care, he was too mesmerised by the wealth of literature suddenly available to him.

  In the end, he found just one book solely about dragons, and another four with a chapter or two that looked interesting. “May I read these?” he asked Darro.

  “Of course, of course. We have no proper reading tables yet…” He looked about helplessly.

  “Should you like to take them to the inn to read, Ruell?” Famri said.

  Ruell looked up at her vaguely, so engrossed in his books that he’d almost forgotten about her. “Oh, I’m staying at—”

  “Thank you, that’s very kind,” Garrett said. “We’ll bring them back tomorrow.”

  Darro wrapped the books in a piece of sacking, tied up with string, and the two Tre’annatha came to the entrance hall to see them off. As soon as they were out in the street, Ruell said, “Why did you interrupt me like that? They’ll think you’re rude.”

  “I don’t care what they think of me,” Garrett said, his tone missing its usual lightness. “I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

  “But they’re so kind! Why don’t you trust them?”

  “I don’t trust anyone, Ruell, and that’s why I’m still alive and a lot of good people I’ve known are dead. The fewer people who know where you’re staying the better. The Tre’annatha might be totally trustworthy, but who’s to say that they won’t bump into someone who isn’t, and if they happen to mention you…”

  “All right, I get that, but does it matter? Who gives a pair of candles where I stay or what I do? Oh—” His face changed, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “You mean, if I’m… what we talked about? People would fight over me? Do you really think—?”

  “I don’t know, Ruell,” Garrett said, and he sounded tired. “I don’t know anything any more. When I came back to the island, I thought it would be nice, easy work. A little guard duty, watch you grow up, keep out of Kestimar’s way, a pleasant rest after all the upheavals. And now… this.”

  “Sorry,” Ruell said, guilt gnawing at him. “I really didn’t mean to be such a trouble to you.”

  Garrett smiled, the abrupt change of mood lighting up his gaunt features. “No, no, not your fault! You are what you are, and you should never apologise for it. I’ve just got out of the way of watching my back all the time, and it’s hard to get back into it. Like taking a moon or two off the training, it hurts like all the Vortices when you start up again. Don’t take any notice of my grumbling. I’m probably worrying about nothing anyway.”

  ~~~~~

  Garrett went off to attend to a long list of commissions for Tella and Kestimar, promising to return the next day to take Ruell back to the school to return the borrowed books.

  “You’re not coming back here this evening?” Ruell said, disappointed.

  “No. Better if I keep to the usual arrangement. Less talk that way. Keep out of mischief, all right, or I’ll feed you to the fishes.” But he grinned as he spoke.

  Ruell spent the rest of the afternoon in the tiny little room he’d been assigned at the tavern. It was usual for him to spend the hour after midday resting – the stillness, his mother called it, for it was a habit brought from the Karningplain where she’d grown up, and everyone on the Windblown Isle abided by it. Immersed in his new books, the hours disappeared and he was dismayed when Zamannah poked his head round the door, and apologetically asked for his help in the kitchen.

  Then there was a long evening in the scullery, up to his elbows in sudsy water, as Zamannah, his cook and the cook’s daughter rushed in with empty tankards, bowls and greasy platters in great mounds, and rushed out again with armfuls of clean ones. It was long after midnight before the deluge of unwashed dishes diminished to a trickle and he could escape to his bed. There wasn’t enough moonlight to read by, and he didn’t like to use Zamannah’s precious candles, so he sat wakefully upright in bed, his head full of dragons and empires and firestorm hatchings, half dozing until the sun rose high enough for him to see the pa
ges clearly.

  By midmorning, he had read everything relating to dragons at least twice and was getting restless. So many words, and yet so little information. Dragons and their callers must have been so commonplace and well understood that no one thought to explain the basics. One book talked blithely of legions of dragons, and how‘the first hundred may be deployed as an exploratory advance guard, to test the enemy’.Thefirst hundred? His mind tried to grasp how many dragons the earliest empresses must have had at their disposal, and failed.

  A tentative tap on the door was followed by Zamannah’s head. “Someone to see you.”

  “Me?”

  “She asked for you by name. Says she is from this school down at the corn exchange.”

  “Oh, Famri?”

  “She did not give a name.”

  Famri looked incongruous standing in the middle of the big room, her leather coat almost brushing the floor, the tavern’s few patrons eyeing her warily. In this quarter of the town, her rich clothes, the money pouch hanging openly from a strap over one shoulder and her confident air were all equally unusual. She seemed unconcerned by the attention, smiling widely when she saw Ruell.

  “There you are! I have good news for you. Darro has found a whole box of dragon-related books that were overlooked yesterday.”

  Despite the thrill of excitement that pulsed through him, Ruell was surprised enough to say, “Really? I thought we looked at every box, and never saw one with dragon books.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe it was mislabelled. Will you come and have a look?”

  “Of course. Let me get my bag, and the books you lent me yesterday.”

  He skipped out of the room and set off up the stairs two at a time.

  “Ruell.” Zamannah’s quiet voice reached him from the bottom of the stairs.

  Turning, he said, “Yes?”

  “Would it not be better to wait for Garrett? He will want to go with you, I am sure.”

  “Oh… but that will be hours yet, and if he’s very late, there might not be time before we have to get back to the ship. He’ll understand, I’m sure.”

  “Even so… this woman is a stranger.”

  “Famri’s a friend. It’s fine, Zamannah.”

  They were half way to the town before Ruell was struck by an oddity. “How did you know where I was?”

  “You told me yourself.”

  “I… did I?” He couldn’t remember doing so, but he didn’t like to contradict her openly.

  “Or… maybe you told Darro. I forget, now.”

  And that was so unlike her usual confidence that Ruell was puzzled. He was so busy trying to remember what he’d said that when he again took notice of their surroundings he found himself in a street he’d never seen before.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To the school, of course. This is a short cut.”

  “I don’t know this place at all.” Unlike the familiar harbour roads and the wide main streets, this was a narrow alley hemmed in by tall buildings with shuttered windows, with a putrid smell in the air from heaps of decaying rubbish. Ruell thought he saw a rat behind a pile of debris. If only he could turn back and find a more familiar route! But beside him, Famri strode along without the slightest hesitation and he had no wish to appear cowardly. He lengthened his stride to keep up with her and tried not to look behind whenever he thought he heard a scuffling noise.

  So it was that he never saw his assailants at all. There was a thump on the head, a pain, something smothering his face and then darkness.

  ~~~~~

  The first thing he saw when he came to was Garrett’s concerned face bending over him.

  “Thank all the Gods! He’s awake!”

  He was on a low bed in a darkened room. Another face loomed over him, not one he knew. An old woman.

  “Any pain, young man?” she said, in quavering tones.

  Surprised, he realised there was none. A slight ache in one temple, perhaps, but nothing else. He shook his head.

  The old woman cackled. “Powerful stuff, that moonrose paste. You sleep well tonight, be right as weevils tomorrow.”

  “What happened?” Ruell said, struggling to sit up.

  Garrett put an arm behind him, and hoisted him effortlessly upright. “You were attacked by thugs, and in the middle of the day, too. The kylerand will be concerned about that.”

  Ruell’s head was full of clouds, and he couldn’t think. “Where was I? Is Zamannah all right?”

  “He’s fine. You were in the heart of the town, in one of those little alleys behind the new shops. A short cut, Famri said.”

  “Famri! I remember – Famri was there too! Is she hurt?”

  “No, I’m fine.” She emerged from the gloom. “Several people heard my cries for help, and came to our aid. The thugs were driven off, and we brought you here to the candle-maker’s shop. Someone sent for the healer.”

  “And for me,” Garrett added. “So all’s well, and no harm done. Nothing was stolen, and your skull was thick enough to survive the assault, it seems. Master Wendrall, might we borrow your cart so that Ruell doesn’t have to walk to the ship?”

  And then there was the slow, careful walk from the candle-maker’s little bedroom above his shop, down the stairs and into the cart in the yard. He was a bit dizzy, and glad of Garrett’s supporting arm. The cart was small enough that Garrett could push it single-handedly, albeit slowly. With thanks and farewells, they made their ponderous way down the main street and then along the wharf to where their ship awaited. Beyond it, the sun dipped towards the horizon.

  Ruell frowned, confused. “Why is it nearly sunset already?”

  Garrett helped him stand up, and brushed off the bits of candle wax that spotted his clothes. “Let’s get you settled in the cabin, and then we can talk about it.”

  They had barely taken two paces towards the gangplank, when shouts and a rush of feet brought an agitated Jonnor to their side. Even after running all the way along the wharfside road, he still looked immaculate, without a hair dislodged, although he was somewhat out of breath.

  “Ruell! Are you all right? I heard… and then someone saw… Garrett wheeling you down the road. Some kind of attack…? Whatever happened?”

  “I’m fine. Just a bump on the head, that’s all.”

  “Thank the Nine! And Garrett was there to defend you.”

  “No, I…” He looked helplessly at Garrett, not quite sure how to explain.

  “Ruell was with one of the Tre’annatha from the new school,” Garrett said.

  Jonnor said, “Ah!” as if Garrett had explained something, and the two men exchanged looks, which left Ruell wondering if there was something the two of them knew about the Tre’annatha that he didn’t.

  “He’s fine now,” Garrett said. “The healer’s paste did its work. He’s just a bit shaken, that’s all. You might want to check on the Tre’annatha. She says she wasn’t hurt but still, it must have been an unpleasant experience for her.”

  “And a newcomer to the town, too,” Jonnor said. “What must she think of us? I’ll make sure she’s not too distressed by the affair. Perhaps I’ll take her out for a meal, to help her settle in.”

  “Good idea,” Garrett said.

  Again Ruell felt there was some unspoken understanding between the two that he wasn’t privy to, but his head was too stuffy for any clarity of thought, and his legs were wobbly, so he said nothing.

  When Jonnor had gone, Garrett helped him up the gangplank and then down into the little cabin, chasing out the two cooks sitting gossipping there and closing the door firmly, despite the heat.

  “Now, tell me what happened, starting from when you left Zamannah’s tavern, and don’t forget to tell me the hour.”

  Ruell leaned back on the bench, resting his head against the lockers behind. Still no pain, just a dull throb and some dizziness. It felt good to be sitting down.

  “It was midmorning when Famri came. She said—”

  “Wait… came where?” />
  “TheGolden Chicken.”

  “So she knew where you were? That’s odd!”

  “Yes. I wondered about that, too,” Ruell said. “She said that I’d told her or Darro, but I don’t think I did.”

  “Hmm. Curious. And this was midmorning?”

  “Yes. She said they’d found more dragon books… so I went with her. Zamannah tried to stop me, but I went anyway. She took me through a short cut and that’s where we were attacked.”

  “So… well before noon?”

  “Oh yes. I’ve been out cold for hours,” Ruell said. “That must have been a real crack on the head. Lucky I wasn’t hurt worse… or killed. And lucky there were people near enough to come to the rescue.”

  “Oh yes, very lucky,” Garrett said, with an edge of sarcasm. “Tell me about this business of being hit on the head. What did it feel like? Exactly, mind.”

  “Just a thump. I can’t tell you much more than that, except that it hurt.”

  “And then?”

  “I was knocked out! That was it.”

  “Nothing between the thump on the head and being unconscious?”

  The boat rocked gently, and above them, shouts and footsteps indicated that they were untying from the dock.

  Ruell closed his eyes, trying to remember what had happened. It wasn’t easy, with his head so full of clouds. There had been something… but what? Voices? No, not a sound, not something seen, it was— ah! A memory. “I fell onto something, material or a coat or something. Not sure what.”

  “Like a cloth? Did it smell at all?”

  “Yes! It did! I’d forgotten that, but… it was a weird smell, not like anything I could place. What does that mean?”

  “That’s a good question,” Garrett said thoughtfully. “Whatdoes it mean? I can’t answer that, but I can tell you who attacked you.”