A Dragon Born

by Jordan Baker

  "You are a generous man," he said. "For one more copper, we will make sure your ship stays safe. There are many theives about, but for a copper, they will know to respect you. For one copper, they will respect you for at least the number of fingers on your one hand."

  Aaron shook his head, wondering if the thieves the man spoke of were the same people who would be keeping the ship safe. He handed the man two more coppers.

  "Watch the ship for two hands worth of days and if a man with a red beard and a scar comes to the ship, let him do as he pleases," Aaron told him. While he did not feel too badly about taking Malek's ship, if the pirate showed up looking for it, there was no point in having him make trouble, since the ship was his, despite his other crooked dealings.

  Aaron left the docks, making his way into the city and he marveled at the bustling business that took up almost every open space. It reminded him of the vendors at Forsina, though Ba'shan had many times the number of traders and people, haggling over prices and wending their way among one another, shoulder to shoulder in an infinite number of directions. Unaccustomed to walking among such a large number of people, Aaron found himself bumping into them and he apologized repeatedly, but the people of Ba'shan did not seem to care. Indeed, they jostled one another without pause as they pushed their way through the crowds, on their way to their next destination, whatever it might be. Aaron quickly realized that this was just the way of things and he did his best to weave his way through the press of people as he explored the city.

  Not wanting to stand out, Aaron stopped at a garment shop to buy some robes and a headscarf like the ones the people of the desert wore. He pulled aside the cloth door covering and entered to find a man sitting amid endless piles of different colored fabric and walls hung with endless robes and other articles of clothing.

  "Hello," the man said. "I am Kempo, clothier of kings. How may I be of service to you good sir?" Before Aaron could respond, the man continued. "You are from the north, yes? I can tell from the cut of your shirt and those trousers. I am very knowledgeable of such things. Do you seek desert clothing or a new outfit such as the one you wear. I can make anything. What can I do for you?"

  "Thank you, Kempo," Aaron said. "I am Antal, and I would like some proper clothes for the desert." Aaron decided to use the name he had chosen for himself at Forsina.

  "Antal. You are a fighter, yes?"

  "Have you heard of me?"

  "No," Kempo said. "You wear two swords on your belt and you walk with power. I notice these things. I am the clothier of kings."

  "How many kings have you clothed?" Aaron asked.

  "Every one of my customer is a king, or a queen," Kempo told him with a smile. "Although, I have dressed some princes and quite a few princesses as well."

  "So, I am a king?"

  "While you are in my shop, you are the king of clothing. Your wish is my desire, so long as you've gold to spend, of course."

  Aaron shook the change purse at his waist.

  "I do not have much gold, Kempo," he said, "but would a few coppers and maybe a silver or two outfit me as well as a baron or a duke? I do not have to be a king."

  "I have heard of these barons and dukes, but we do not have them here. For a silver, you can be a prince. For two silvers you can be a wealthy prince or make a poor king. For two silvers and a few coppers, you will be as well dressed as any."

  "Then I will have two sets of clothing for two silvers and a few coppers," Aaron said.

  "Two? You did not say you wanted two outfits. That would be twice the price."

  On his way through the city, Aaron had noticed all the people of Ba'shan haggling in the market, arguing openly about prices, some even insulting each other and spitting on the ground to show their disagreement. Aaron had learned about the markets of Ba'shan in the books Tarnath made him study, and he knew that it was part of the way the people of the desert dealt with one another, but he did not want to spend half the day arguing with the man over the price of a robe and a scarf, or two for that matter.

  "I will give you one more silver, making three and five coppers," Aaron told him. "That is my offer or I can find someone else who will sell me some clothes."

  "Good sir, are you having a bad day? Does the breeze not cool the air under the hot sun? Have I offended you in some way?"

  "You have not offended me, Kempo," Aaron said, knowing that Kempo was the one who was offended, or at least feigned being so. "I appreciate your desire to bargain, but let us say that I am having a bad day."

  "It is never a good day for business when one is in a dark mood," Kempo told him. "Still, you cannot go to the desert in such clothing as you wear, so I will do what I can with these coins you offer. I am the clothier of kings, and I hope you will remember me when your mood is better and your purse overflowing."

  "Thank you," Aaron said.

  "I must ask you though. These swords at your belt, you wear them in the old style. It is impressive to see one from another land respect our old traditions while so many of my own people no longer do."

  "The old style?"

  "Yes," Kempo said. "It is the Ansari way, never to show the steel unless there is blood to be drawn, and to cover the hilt so that all with a blade are equals until tested. It is a sign of respect."

  Aaron had noticed a number of people in Ba'shan with weapons at their waists or on their backs held by short leather straps instead of scabbards and their hilts unwrapped. He had not thought anything of it, for many of the people who carried weapons in Maramyr did the same, though he did notice a few jewel encrusted weapons worn by those who appeared to be better dressed than many.

  "It is also tradition where I am from, for similar reasons," Aaron told him. "But I know a little of the Ansari ways, and I am glad to respect the traditions."

  Kempo smiled. "Perhaps you know Ansari, a little. Let us find these clothes and I will accept your offer of three silver and five coppers. You will be a king today."

  Aaron left the shop, dressed in a fine robe of dark blue fabric, with a cream colored headscarf which he left open at his face and a matching wide sash at his waist that covered his leather belt from which his swords hung in their scabbards, which Kempo had wrapped with fabric, covering the dark leather. Over his shoulder, he carried a cloth bag Kempo had convinced him to buy for an extra copper, and it had room enough for the second set of robes and a few other items he had bought. From a distance, Aaron looked like most of the other people in the street, and from the look of the fabric compared to that worn by many others, Aaron knew that the clothier had made him look like a king.

  Aaron thought about returning to Malek's ship, but there was a chance that the pirate would come looking for it, so he decided to take a room at an inn of sorts on the far side of the city, where the buildings seemed older, or different from the others for they were taller, round in shape and made of stone. After haggling with the innkeeper, he made his way up a round flight of stone steps that wound their way around an open air, inner courtyard where food cooked over fire pits and various exotic looking drinks were served. He made his way up past several balconies and opened the wooden door to the room the innkeeper had pointed out to him and was pleased to find that it very spacious and had a wide bed made of stuffed fabric, set off the floor on a wooden pallet. A large cushion sat in the corner near a tall window and a low table, and Aaron dropped the cloth satchel next to it and found a basin of water atop another table next to the wall, above which was a glass mirror.

  When he stepped in front of the mirror, Aaron was surprised at his appearance and he realized it had been some times since he had seen his own reflection. His travels from Forsina and across the sea to Meer then to the east had darkened his skin and the rough growth on his face was starting to thicken into a beard. In his desert clothes, were it not for the light color of his hair and beard, he could almost pass for one of the Ansari. Aaron wondered how difficult it would be to color his beard and even his skin, and he was surprised to see his face change
in the mirror. He realized that his thoughts had transferred to the sphere and, similar to what happened when he wanted to be invisible, the power of the sphere also allowed him to change his appearance. Aaron knew it was only an illusion, but it might prove useful. He tried a few different things and discovered that he could give himself almost any appearance he wanted, but seeing no point in it, he let the pattern revert back to his normal features, though he darkened his hair and skin somewhat. While he was inspecting his handiwork, there was a knock at the door. Aaron opened it and found a young boy standing outside.

  "Is there something you need?" Aaron asked.

  "I am Tash," the boy said. "The man there, he said you might want a door keeper."

  "A door keeper?"

  "Yes. You have things. They will need keeping safe. I will keep the door for one copper."

  Aaron laughed. He was starting to get the impression that there was always an extra copper to be spent at Ba'shan. He reached under his robe and pulled out a copper coin and held it out to the boy.

  "For as many days as fingers," Aaron told him. "You keep watch."

  "Yes good sir," the boy said as he snatched the coin from Aaron's fingers. He ran over to the rail that overlooked the inner courtyard and he grinned at the innkeeper. A moment later, the boy ran along the balcony and dragged a small, wooden bench over to the wall next to the door to the room and then sat down. "I will be here. If you need things I can get them for you..."

  "For a copper, right?" Aaron asked. The boy grinned and Aaron went back inside the room.

  He walked over to the open window on the far side of the room and looked out over the city of Ba'shan. The room was high enough that it allowed him to see most of the city, which continued some distance further inland and, at the edge of the city, he saw what looked like a large palace that loomed above the smaller buildings below. Aaron rubbed his eyes, wondering if they were playing tricks on him, for it appeared that the palace was not only larger than the others in the city, but many times larger, so much so that the other buildings, which looked to be of a similar size to the one he was in, were dwarfed by it. Beyond the enormous structure that also swept in either direction, Aaron could see the sands of the desert stretching out to the horizon, and it was as though the sands were held back by the palace, which protected the city from the unforgiving sea of sand.

  "Tash," Aaron called. A moment later, the boy opened the door.

  "Yes, good sir."

  "What is that large building at the edge of the city?"

  "That is the warrior palace," he said.

  "It looks like a big place, like it is larger than the other places."

  "Oh yes, it is very big. A giant place it is," Tash told him.

  "Does anyone live there, like a king or a lord?"

  "No," Tash said. "There are no kings or lords."

  "What is it for then?" Aaron asked. "That place must be used for something."

  "Oh yes. It is the warrior palace," Tash told him again. "Many great fights there. Are you a warrior? Will you try to become king of the warriors? Those are the only kings. Champions."

  "What about Forsina," Aaron asked. "I thought the circles were where the warriors fought."

  "Forsina?" Tash wrinkled his nose, thinking for a moment, then he smiled. "Yes, the circles of the west. Many fighters there too, but they come to Ba'shan to the warrior palace for true Ansari battles."

  "I did not know that," Aaron admitted.

  "You do not know Ansari?"

  "I am learning," Aaron told him.

  "It is wise to know Ansari."

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  "What are their numbers?" Cerric asked, looking over the map that was spread out over the table in the command pavilion. He glanced up at his generals, the Lords Mirdel, Barant and the commoner, Nathas.

  "The scouts estimate twelve thousand foot and two thousand horse, your highness," Nathas told him. "A force of another thousand fighters is within a half day's march of the city and one of the mages sent word of several hundred horse riding in from the west."

  "That is all?" Cerric was surprised at how few the Kandaran numbers were.

  "We outnumber them by many times," Nathas said. "However, the walls of Kandara are thick and it may take some time before we can break them."

  "Bah," Cerric said. "The walls will be down within a day once we begin the attack. We will take Kandara with ease."

  Duke Mirdel glanced at Nathas, remembering the bet between the two of them and Lord Kaleb, then he turned as Calexis entered the pavilion, her voluptuous figure gliding across the floor. She took a seat on a nearby divan and a servant brought her a cup of wine.

  "Don't mind me, good lords," Calexis said. "Please, carry on."

  Cerric stared at his queen lustfully. Every time he moved, he could still feel the cuts across his back from where her claws had dug into him when they had enjoyed a few moments together this morning and he looked forward to taking her atop the Kandaran king's bed.

  "I noticed your son, Draxis, constructing something at the smithy," Cerric said.

  Calexis was pleased to hear him acknowledge Draxis and she hoped her husband might be warming to her young, half-Darga prince.

  "Yes, he is fashioning weapons he believes will be useful against this Duke Boric, if he shows himself again."

  "I have met Duke Boric," Nathas said. "He is an exceptionally strong man, but neither I nor anyone in Maramyr had any idea that he was some kind of creature."

  "The Kandaran line has hidden its secrets well but, in truth, they are much like the Darga, though they are too proud to admit their relation," Cerric said, not knowing how he knew the things he knew but he realized it must be the knowledge of the god. "It will be justice to see them rent to pieces by their own kind, who they have long despised."

  "Prince Draxis looks forward to doing just that," Calexis told him. "He also hopes to win your admiration."

  "Good," Cerric said. "I would that every soldier and mage were motivated to please me, for that is the true order of things. Now tell me, my Generals, when will our forces be in position?"

  "We are a half day's ride and a full day's march from the city walls, my lord," Berant said. "The passes to the east are closed and guarded. The mountains to the north are impassable and we have several divisions moving west to close off those routes as well. The Kandarans are effectively trapped. We can begin moving toward the city on the morrow and begin the siege the following day."

  "Very good," Cerric said, then he turned to Nathas. "Captain General, you and Brigade General Kaleb will lead the forward troops against any the Kandarans put to field. Twenty thousand foot and three thousand horse should suffice. I expect to see great things from you in this battle. Draxis and his Darga also wish to distinguish themselves in this battle, so they will accompany you. The remaining forces will be under the command of Lord Generals Mirdel and Berant. I expect you to coordinate the siege engines and the mages, to bring down the walls of Kandara once their soldiers have been defeated. Make whatever preparations are necessary. Now, I have not yet decided when the attack will begin, but we will move to the Kandaran city on the morrow so they may witness the glory of our armies. You are dismissed."

  "Yes, your highness," Nathas said, and Mirdel and Barant echoed him.

  Nathas glanced back as he followed the two lords out of the pavilion and saw Calexis hand Cerric a cup of wine. Despite what so many of the stories told, he knew it was seldom the kings who led the battles, but so often they would walk onto the bloodied fields, after the soldiers had died, and claim their victories. Mirdel said he was fatigued from the trip and he made for his own pavilion to rest up for the coming battle, though Nathas wondered if that might include a bottle or two of wine. Berant, who at least made some effort to fulfil his duties, which Nathas appreciated as a soldier, went off to inspect the construction of the siege engines, which had begun now that the forests had given way to open fields. Nathas continued through the encampment and saw clouds of blac
k smoke rising from the area where the smiths had set up their forges, making weapons and other implements in preparation of the coming battle. He walked toward the smoke and found a strange looking young man, working with the smiths and several mages, who were adding their fire to the forges. They appeared to be forging long, thick, iron chains attached to large metal spears with barbed hooks protruding from them.

  "Prince Draxis," Nathas said as he approached. "I see you are busy at work."

  "You are Nathas, yes?" Draxis said, his serpentine voice rasping from behind his pointed teeth.

  "Yes," Nathas said. "I am the Captain General of the Army. King Cerric has just confirmed that both you and Lord Kaleb will be part of the primary attack upon the Kandarans. He has commanded that I will lead the battle, personally."

  "That is foolish," Draxis said. "The mages have not said it, but I can tell from their words that you are the better commander of the three Generals. Kaleb is also regarded as an able commander. Why would Cerric put you at the front?"

  "Perhaps he wishes to show the Kandarans how superior the Xallan and Maramyrian forces are."

  "The Kandarans are able fighters," Draxis said, "but they are no match for my Darga. You would be wise to let my warriors kill them."

  "If I were wise, I would have become a fisherman or a shoe maker," Nathas said.

  "I do not understand what you mean by such a thing," Draxis said. "It matters not. Cerric is a fool to put weak soldiers and good commanders in the battlefront for the Kandarans and their Duke to cut. You would be wise to avoid the Kandaran Duke."

  "Are you making these weapons with him in mind?" Nathas asked.

  "Yes. Boric is like a Darga, but many times larger and very strong. He will kill many Darga and many warriors and soldiers with his axe if he is not stopped."

  "I am glad to see you thinking of the lives of your warriors and the soldiers," Nathas said.

  "The warriors dream of returning to their homeland. This is that land, and they wish to become what they once were, great and powerful. I understand their desire for power, for I too desire it. The soldiers seek justice against the Kandarans who think they are better, who live on stolen land and come down from the mountains to ravage their people. I will give them this justice as their lord and commander and they will give me their loyalty and I will command them in many battles to come."