Dragon Soul

by Danielle Bennett

  “Well,” Madoka said, “at least you’re being honest with me.”

  “Come now,” I told her, “I am always honest. Let us make a few ridiculous demands from this man. That should lend to our air of absolute authenticity.”

  “What, you mean like the blood of a virgin and six hares collected by the light of the full moon? That kind of thing?” Madoka asked.

  “Oh, no,” I told her, shaking my head gravely. “The full moon won’t occur for weeks yet, and I don’t think we want to spend that long in the company of these bandits, however hospitable they have been toward us thus far.”

  “Yeah, real hospitable,” Madoka muttered, glowering. “I feel just like the emperor making his rounds.”

  “Ah, but I imagine you’re far more handsome than he is,” I confided with a wink.

  “Thanks,” said Madoka, not at all amused by my antics. She was so terribly sober that it stung me to the core. Between her and Badger, I was liable to develop a complex about my wiles and charms.

  “A lady always appreciates a good compliment,” I told her, a gross hint on my part, but a gift as well, since Madoka seemed to enjoy rolling her eyes at me. Anything that would distract her from the growing problem in her hand—which was now spreading to her arm.

  I swished my skirts in a businesslike fashion and set off to have a conversation with my new acquaintance Abbud. Madoka trailed reluctantly in my wake, clearly not at all enjoying her part in this endeavor. I was sorry to put such a burden on her when she was already so beleaguered, but she was my trump card and the ace up my sleeve. She was the witch they were all so afraid of, where by contrast I was simply a foreign woman, and not a terribly imposing one at that.

  Without her, I wasn’t very impressive. That was all it came down to. It was a change of circumstances that I wasn’t yet accustomed to, but I was certain I’d see the humor in it soon enough.

  True to what I already knew of the leader of the bandits, he was sitting near the extinguished fire pit and sharpening a good blade. Perhaps he’d sensed something on the wind, or perhaps he was merely honing a stolen item to bring out the best of its potential. I did hope it didn’t have anything to do with our own little party, but there was only one way for me to be sure of that. I settled myself down next to him, arranging myself as daintily as I could when the seat beneath me was little more than a tatty blanket spread over the sand. There was less shade here, since the pit had been built near the center of the camp, but it didn’t seem to bother Abbud any. He was better accustomed to such climes, whereas I was going to be in need of a good parasol if I wished to keep my complexion.

  Madoka hung back behind me, practically looming over the both of us, though Abbud was not a small man. Her reluctance could very well work to our advantage in this situation, though. To those who did not know what made her hesitate, Madoka portrayed the expert witch—one who was too good to sit down in the sand with the rest of us commoners. It was an unspoken show of superiority, whether she meant for it to be taken that way or not. She was practically a natural at this.

  Abbud neither spoke nor looked up when I sat down next to him, which was a sign of just how unimportant I was in the tribal hierarchy, I supposed.

  “She needs some things for the ceremony,” I said, keeping to my role as the servant of a great witch. I didn’t like to brag, but it was something I was exceedingly good at, as well. Keep your eyes down and don’t speak unless you’re spoken to were the only two rules a servant had to follow, and those just so happened also to be the basics of espionage.

  It was rare that I ever played a role so suited to my natural personality.

  Abbud paused in sharpening his knife, but when he looked up, it was at Madoka, and not me. I wasn’t exactly his “type”—a fact for which I was exceedingly grateful. He grinned at her—Madoka evidently satisfying some requirements I myself lacked—and then turned his attentions back to the knife.

  “What things?” he asked, only he used a different word for things than I had, which was a very small thing to be embarrassed over, yet I was kicking myself all the same. There were so many strange little variations in the desert dialects that I hadn’t yet managed to get a solid grasp on all of them. In fact, I was rather ashamed to admit that I’d let them go neglected in my studies, simply because I hadn’t ever needed them before today. Now I was paying for my hubris.

  “Freshwater,” I said at once, “but it must be collected under the light of the moon. She told me the ritual cannot be performed until nightfall,” I emphasized, on a sudden inspiration. Under cover of darkness, we could escape much more easily—not to mention that we wouldn’t have to concern ourselves with making our way through the desert under the full sun. Madoka and I hadn’t discussed beforehand the nature of the items I’d be asking for, but somehow I knew she would approve of this extra detail. “She will also need fire. And something made of copper,” I added. “It must be pure to counteract the gold workings in your magic, she says.”

  “What’re you telling him?” Madoka asked, whispering at me sharply.

  “And she requires the pelt of some great predator of the desert,” I told him, taking her words for instructions. “Your camels won’t do at all.”

  “That…may prove difficult to find,” said Abbud, his tone of voice not remorseful in the slightest. Convince me, it said. “Fire is simple enough. That we have much of. But the other items—the water we may take readily enough from the oasis, but it is more precious to us than gold or simple copper, another thing you have requested. As for the animal, it would take a campaign of at least a few days to stalk down a suitable beast, not to mention the difficulty in killing it.”

  “He’s being coy,” I told Madoka in her native tongue. “Testing you, I think.”

  “What?” Madoka asked, looking tense. Underneath that, she was angry—the very picture of the weapon of a violent god. “What kind of test? Can’t I just hold my hand up and threaten to blight him and his ancestors with it? Because you just say the word, and I’m on it.”

  “I don’t think that will be necessary,” I told her, working very hard to keep the smile from my lips. “We’re looking to cement his trust in us now. Intimidation is all well and good for convincing a man to open up negotiations, but it can also breed suspicion. I want everyone to be well away from wherever you are to begin our little ceremony, not creeping at the sides of the tents.”

  “Well, great,” Madoka said, kicking the sand in an idle gesture of frustration. “How am I supposed to pass a test when I can’t even understand the questions?”

  “That is what you have me for, Madoka,” I told her smoothly, figuring that was enough conversation to suitably convince Abbud that what I was about to say had come from Madoka and not myself.

  She made an irritated noise when I turned away from her again, and I silently made a vow that I would somehow make it up to her.

  “She says that she has seen a trinket of copper on one of your men,” I told him, which was almost the truth. The man who’d taken Madoka so roughly by the hair that night had been wearing a locket, badly tarnished. The sort of thing a young girl kept as a memento of her lover, though it didn’t surprise me that a bandit would allow it to fall into such a state. Copper was copper, however, even if I’d pulled the idea straight out of my ladylike rear end. “The fur does not have to come from a live animal—she never said as much, that was simply your assumption—and she points out that many of the rugs and blankets in your own tent are the skins of once-powerful beasts.”

  He nodded, looking not at all put out by my arguments, which he seemed to accept came from Madoka herself. My hunch had been right, then, and he was simply testing the keenness of her mind as it related to her supposed expertise in the field of magic. We were asking Abbud to trust us with the most valuable object in his camp; it was my job to ensure that we seemed worthy of that trust.

  “As for the water,” I continued, when it seemed he had nothing to interject, “she understands what a precio
us commodity water is, to someone whose home is the desert.”

  “My home,” Abbud agreed, releasing the knife to stretch out his arms and fingers as wide as they would go. I got the feeling he wasn’t just speaking of the camp.

  “Precisely,” I agreed, as Madoka shifted her weight behind me, clearly bored but unwilling to show it. “You value water above all else, and that makes you clever, but in order to obtain the power of her magic for your own, you must put your desire for that power above everything else. Do you truly wish to hold the land in your hands? To secure your rule not only for yourself, but for your future sons and their sons, as well? Such power takes a sacrifice. If you are unwilling to make it, then you do not deserve to wield this magic. Perhaps it is too great for you,” I added, bowing my head as if in apology. I did hope I hadn’t gone overboard with the threats, or implied he was too much like a Charlotte-born chicken. Goading a man’s pride was a dangerous game, and it required the ultimate finesse. I would have managed it without question if I were speaking in my own language, but there was always the chance I would not wrangle his words properly, and one or two of them may have gotten away from me. These were delicate negotiations, wherein the slightest awkwardness could sour everything.

  I could feel Abbud staring at the top of my head, while I kept my eyes firmly averted from his face. I’d told Madoka that now was not the time for intimidation—and it most certainly wasn’t—but I was fairly certain that the only thing guaranteeing my safety right now was the fear Abbud had of my companion. I was, and not for the first time, exceedingly grateful for her presence. Rotting arm and fevered mulishness aside, she was utter perfection.

  “It will be done,” Abbud said at last, after a few long moments of breathing like a wildebeest. “The items will be brought to my tent. The witch can perform her ritual in there.”

  “She must be alone,” I cautioned him, just in case he was getting any ideas about taking himself a witch-bride. “And left uninterrupted.”

  “In my tent,” Abbud assured me, “no one will disturb her.”

  I supposed I’d have to be satisfied with that, and pray to whoever was listening that he included himself in that account.

  In the hours we had before nightfall, Madoka and I took the time to carefully hash out our plan, such as it was—if it could even be ranked as a plan at all.

  Madoka was the only one who could pass along information to our third ally—to make sure Badger knew his duties—since of everyone, Abbud’s men were least suspicious of her. Or most suspicious, but watching for other cues than a simple human betrayal.

  During all this ruckus, when the members of the camp were focused on their leader’s tent and the actions within, Badger would cut loose a pair of camels and make his way to the back of Abbud’s tent. It would be difficult to miss, since it was the largest. Madoka would then pass the dragonmetal out beneath the tent to him, and afterward escape herself. That took care of the pair of them, and I could concern myself with my own getaway when the time came.

  It was merely fortunate for everyone that I didn’t require a camel of my own. I could ride with Madoka for the initial burst of speed, but since I didn’t tire, it would prove unnecessary later on. I didn’t intend to burden Badger unduly—any more than I had to, of course—and stealing three camels when only two were needed definitely qualified as such a burden.

  Besides, if the distraction I was planning worked out the way I’d hoped, no one would be looking in my direction when the time came for me to slip away.

  In my personal luggage, I carried with me certain things that a woman in my position must necessarily have about her at all times. Among them was a small ration of gunpowder, suitable enough to create a flash explosion, though the methodology was clumsier than that with which I normally preferred to work. The fire I’d requested would be more than enough to set it off, and the copper I’d requested would turn the flames to an unnatural blue color—one I was willing to bet these men of the desert had never seen in their lifetimes, nor knew of from their grandfathers, et cetera. The fur and the water were for Madoka herself, in case things sprang out of control too quickly, or the pain in her hand made her clumsy. I planned to have her soak the skin and wrap it around her own body as protection—though she would still need to be swift in order to avoid any risk of danger.

  “You must light the compound only after you’ve passed the dragonmetal out to Badger,” I told her. “And only when you’ve got one foot out the door yourself, do you understand?”

  “I’m starting to think it might’ve been easier just to stick my hand in the damn thing,” Madoka said gruffly.

  I patted her on the back. A very sisterly gesture, I thought, though her body stiffened when I touched her—as always. “If you change your mind, you can always try that instead,” I assured her, “and see what happens next. I have no idea what would occur, but of course it is all up to you in the end.”

  Madoka snorted, an eloquent noise that let me know all too well what she thought about that as a backup plan.

  Then we waited.

  I enjoyed my position, almost invisible—though every now and then I did feel the weight of some bandit’s eyes upon me, measuring my movements. It was a lucky fact indeed that they were far more caught up in the promise of some great spectacle, and for the time being, that spectacle had become—in their minds—manifest in Madoka herself. She could look after herself even in this state; I fully trusted her. And this distraction gave me ample time to pass all the stages of our plan over to Badger, who was currently enjoying life as a prisoner, tied efficiently to a palm tree.

  At least he was in the shade. Besides that, I’d already slipped him one of my own knives, and he’d be out of bondage easy as a prostitute sleeping with a rich man, as they said back in Thremedon.

  After that, I was left to my own devices. I pretended to be very interested in a local tree in order to avoid the advances of a lonely young bandit who was apparently desperate enough to try anything and less interested in more archaic forms of magic than the mundane sort two bodies could achieve when they rested together. I was flattered, I wished to tell him, as it had been a long time since I found myself on the receiving end of such attentions, but now was hardly the time. In any case, I gave him the slip, attended to the camels, assessed all possible cogs in the gears that might potentially arise, and prepared myself for everything I considered a viable threat to our well-being and, even more important, our success.

  I was ready by nightfall.

  All too quickly, it was evening, and I found to my surprise that my own pulse had quickened with the excitement of it all. Tonight we were going to make off with a prize more valuable than I had ever before brought back to the Esar. I would be rewarded, certainly, but it was not the prospect of riches or esteem that fueled my excitement. Rather, it was the promise of another job well accomplished, the most difficult mission my liege had ever sent me on, succeeded and surpassed. There was nothing so satisfying as meeting the Esar’s expectations. He gave me the tasks he would not or could not trust to anyone else, and I continually delivered. This mission would be no exception.

  If I hadn’t been surrounded by bandits and murderers, I might well have kicked up my heels to express my delight.

  Then again, I couldn’t afford to rest on my laurels just yet. No need to count the chickens when the eggs had only just been laid.

  “Derga will bring your witch her ingredients,” said Abbud, slipping up to me like a shadow in the night. “I will bring her the magic.”

  “Very good,” I said, trying to sound as though everything was going according to plan. For all intents and purposes, it seemed to be.

  The rest relied upon Madoka. They were leading her inside already and I was now no more than the playwright who must be content to sit in the audience and wait until the curtain fell to learn just how it had been received by the masses. I drew closer to Abbud’s tent.

  Good luck, I thought. And with all luck, she’d perform ve
ry well, and wouldn’t need it.

  THOM

  Needless to say, I had not been deemed fit by either my brother or Kalim to ride with the rest of the party into battle.

  Admittedly, I did not believe that I was the best suited for such a job, nor did I particularly wish to learn the skills of such a trade so quickly before I would be called upon to use them. I was not, nor would I ever be, a desert rider. They were right not to trust me or encourage me, and I should have been grateful that—at the very least—Rook cared enough about my well-being to stop me from doing something quite hazardous. Sensibility and good common sense told me all these things, and there was no reason to ignore such principles now, when they’d aided me my whole life.

  And yet I was incapable of feeling anything other than left out.

  I spent the rest of the day sulking and attempting to enjoy the views; my ink had run out, but I still had my graphite pencils, and here and there I attempted a few notes upon the statues, the garb, the camp life itself. Everyone operated efficiently, like the gears in a well-made machine. Everyone clearly had a designated place, or duty, and they saw to it without any confusion among the ranks. No one seemed to be speaking, and yet they worked with a synchronization that I had only ever imagined coming from a great deal of communication. At any given point there was no one who was not seeing to some matter of business—but then, I was observing the tribe under extreme duress. This was an observation of how a foreign tribe prepared for battle, and hardly a slice of normal life. And yet it reminded me of something—another time I had sat to one side and diligently attempted to parse the working mechanism of fourteen men who appeared to have as little as possible to do with one another outside the sphere of their work.

  Every man here had a purpose, except of course for me.

  Come now, Thom, I told myself, it is important to record history as it happens. And when were theories useless? I was a thinker, not a fighter, and the world was always in need of thoughts.