PRINIVERE lumbered forward, revealing a shadowy cavern containing several sacks as well as Benton Collins' overstuffed and battered backpack. Korfius trotted over to sniff at the contents, but Collins got there first. He could scarcely wait to paw through his things again. First, he wanted his watch. Then he would look for anything else he had brought to this backward world that might aid in rescuing Zylas. He could no longer recall every tiling he had packed.
Collins jerked out the rolled up T-shirts first. Uncomfortable in the wet, grimy clothing he had worn through the swamp, he tugged off his shirt without worrying about propriety, more concerned about not smearing slime across his torso. He pulled on a clean, black pocket tee and his only other pair of jeans. He added a pair of dry socks. Though he needed a bath, he felt much more comfortable in clothing steeped in the familiar essence of Era Ultra. He still worried that the perfumy aroma of deodorant might give him away, but he could not resist brushing his teeth.
Around Collins, his companions plotted with a solemn thoroughness that revealed their desperation. He missed much of the conversation; Prinivere did not always generalize her sendings, and Vernon could communicate only with her. From what Collins could gather as he sorted through his possessions, Ialin planned to impersonate a particular merchant with a macaw switch-form. Aisa would play his wife. They would have to disguise Falima as a mule, since all Barakhain horses worked only as guards for established governmental entities. Vernon would remain a mouse until Zylas' return to man form and could hide in any pocket or crevice.
Collins found his watch buried with his keys and beeper under his clothing. He flipped it around to look at the face. To his surprise, it read almost 5:00 A.M. He had not realized how much time he had spent traveling back and forth from the castle to Prinivere's various hiding places, and he now understood why even his frantic excitement floundered through hovering exhaustion. He strapped the watch to his wrist. Falima, he knew, would switch next, which explained why she was the only one the renegades planned to disguise in a form different than the one she currently held. It also meant they had to wait until 6:00 A.M. just to start working on her. That still left them a solid five hours to free Zylas, but any delay seemed intolerable.
Collins separated out a handful of Turns and Tylenol. Concern for Zylas kept him wide awake despite the wee morning hours. The constant state of alert stress had not yet touched off a headache or a boil of stomach acid, but he wouldn't be surprised if it did soon. He could feel the early prickles of beard on his face, but it was not yet enough to bother with shaving. He put the matches in his pocket. He could not think of a use for the mini tape recorder and fold-up binoculars, but he believed the jerky, Snickers bars, and dog biscuits might prove useful when he faced off with Barakhai's carnivores. When? Collins groaned at the realization. He had already started planning for something he had just dismissed as impossible. His friends would talk him into doing it, he felt sure; and Prinivere's attempts to remain neutral, to leave the decision wholly to his conscience, would only make him more certain to agree. He wondered how this group of Otherworld creatures had come to know him better than he knew himself.
Believing Prinivere entirely ensconced in three other minds, Collins did not expect an answer; but he got one.*Because you're an easy read, Ben. A good man with a good heart.*
Warmed by the compliment, Collins flushed, biscuits clutched in his fist. "I-I didn't know you were listening in on me." *I have to. Once again, you're our only hope.* to free the dragons, Collins finished, turning his gaze, as well as his attention, to Prinivere. *Yes.* As if feeling his eyes upon her, Prinivere lurched around to face Collins.*But also to rescue Zylas.*
Collins nodded, then realized he did not understand. So far, the plan Ialin and the others had outlined left no place for him. *The king will be expecting us to attempt a rescue.*
Collins' mouth set in a grim line, and he passed the dog biscuits from hand to hand. He wondered why he had not seen it before. King Terrin could have executed Zylas immediately or tortured him for information. Instead, he had given the renegades a limited amount of time to come to his aid. There could be only one logical reason for such a strategy. King Terrin knows we'll come and even when, within the space of half a day. He wants to catch more renegades, ones who'll be easier to intimidate and question than Zylas.
Collins had no experience with reading dragon expressions, and that unnerved him. When she gave no reply, he continued thinking his part of the silent conversation to her.
We can't let anyone go. *What choice do we have, Benton Collins?*
We Collins started and stopped. We could… He shook his head to clear it and only realized Korfius had approached when one of the biscuits jerked in his hand. He watched the dog gently ease it free of his grip. There was no prudent way to finish the sentence. They could either attempt a rescue or leave Zylas to die. Suggesting they could risk lesser figures in the movement seemed judgmental and cowardly at the same time. What do we do? *We,* Prinivere measured the word so that it referred only to herself and Collins.*We free the young dragons.*
After-
Prinivere's raised claw stayed him.*Once the dragons are with me, we can use magic to save Zylas and anyone else captured in the meantime. If their rescue attempt fails*we'll still have you.*
Collins barely felt Korfius tug the second biscuit from his hands. His mind went utterly blank.
Prinivere did not press. In the background, Collins could hear the discussion growing more heated. Switch times and switch-forms did not match, and they debated the pros and cons of representing themselves as a new group rather than trying to pass for a known entity.
Finally, Collins managed to think, I'm the ace in the hole? He rolled his eyes. God help this mission. *You can do it,* Prinivere's faith came across as unwavering, to Collins' chagrin. It seemed far more likely that all of them would die.
Prinivere sent Collins nothing more, and the gaps in the other conversation told him she had turned her attention back to them. As promised, she left the decision to him, though she had burdened him with understanding. He would rather have remained ignorant. He wished he had something more than raw guesses to bet on, some knowledge of the future that could guide him to the course most likely to bring all of them out alive. Prinivere had a definite point. At some point, Collins would have to make the decision about whether or not to enter the lair of the carnivores. Serial plans depended on the success of the first one, while simultaneous ones did not. Rescuing Zylas did not require Collins, since no one had to enter the royal chambers. Freeing the dragons depended entirely on him.
If they don't get to Zylas in time, if Falima gets hurt or killed, I'll blame myself forever for not going with them. Collins bit his lip at the thought of his friends dying because of his decision. Frantic worry assailed him, making concentration even more difficult. It astounded him how swiftly these people had become his closest companions, how Barakhai had become every bit as real as the world he had once considered unique in the universe. But if I'm the reason the plan fails, I'll suffer worse. He looked at the objects around him. None of them could help with freeing Zylas. If he still had Ms multitool, he might feel otherwise; but that had vanished at the castle.
His fear of death receded beneath the horror of living with the knowledge that he had let his friends die rather than assist them. Collins knew he could not leave until he saw as many as possible to safety. "Prinivere?" he called.
The dragon swung her enormous head back to him. Huge, emerald cat's eyes steadied, gleaming with anxiety but demanding nothing.
"When you said 'we' would free the dragons, you meant-?" Collins had no words to finish the question disguised as casual statement.
As always, Prinivere went straight to the heart.*I'm a switcher. I can't directly accompany you. But-*
The last words seemed to hover tangibly in the air.
Collins waited, scarcely daring to breathe. *I can stand at the entrance. My roar-*
This time, Prinivere did not have to
finish. "Scares everyone. It should scare the carnivores away, and-" This time, Collins broke off. Though strong and terrifying, her roar did not carry far. "Couldn't you turn me into something… mean? Something even a carnivore wouldn't mess with?" *Like a dragon?*
Collins' desperate idea had not gotten that specific, but he felt a small glimmer of hope. "That would do."
Prinivere's eyes gleamed, and the edges of her enormous mouth twitched.*If I could do that, the Curse would no longer matter. I could just zap everyone into whatever shape he preferred.*
Collins was thinking more along the lines of an illusion.
Prinivere did not wait for him to form the words.*I'm limited to human faces. I could make you unusually ugly…*
"Not necessary." Collins saw no purpose to that. With his luck, an illusion like the one she described would remain stuck in place forever. He looked at his scattered belongings, gaze skipping from clothes, to toiletries to the bits of technology. "I've got it!" He snatched up the tape recorder.
Prinivere's head cocked sideways, like a dog trying to make sense of lilting English. She verbalized the details his thoughts supplied her.*It's like that thing you called a photograph. Only sound.*
Collins had never thought of it that way. He scrambled to a crouch. "Right. It captures a sound and allows me to replay it. A few roars into this should keep me safe for a while, as long as I can rewind." Now that he knew he would not have to change into period clothes, he stuffed the jerky and several biscuits into his front jeans pockets. He put the candy bars into his shirt pocket and crammed the fold-up binoculars into the back pockets of his pants. Looping the recorder strap through his belt, he pushed the machine into its own strap, affixing it. "I'm ready."
Prinivere snorted out a noise that sounded like laughter. Every head swayed toward her, and all conversation ceased. Clearly, she did not do that often.
Collins flushed at the attention. He had gone from abject refusal to leaping almost blindly into the task in moments, without much external convincing. He had spent some time in consideration, but the thing that had finally pushed him over the edge was the realization that he had the ability to come up with solutions for a problem that had once seemed insurmountable.
Prinivere detailed her own timetable.*I'll need to use the illusion magic on Ialin to get him to pass for the merchant. Aisa's fine as she is, and I don't have any spells to turn a horse into a mule.*
Ialin nodded grimly, tucking a small hand into his filthy, well-worn tunic. "We'll handle that. But I might need some help whipping up a cart and wares, and I'll need some richer clothes." He glanced at Prinivere. "Vernon?"
Prinivere remained silent for several moments as she sorted out a conversation with a mouse who had reasonable, but imperfect, overlap.
While he waited, Collins swiped the deodorant across his armpits and sorted the Tylenol and Turns, half of each into the two bottles. One he returned to the pack, and the other he forced into the biscuit pocket. By the time he finished, he was no longer anticipating Prinivere's reply, so her sudden presence in his mind startled him. *Vernon always has clothes, but he's having trouble grasping the concept of what a merchant might wear. We can fake product. I have a few spells that could help there…*
Ialin's and Prinivere's conversation turned private, leaving Collins alone with his thoughts. Too much consideration would lose the current surge of motivation. The conditions the dragon had described in the caverns could lead to any number of possibilities, from a dangerously lawless society to one that had consumed itself in a matter of a few scant years. As a scientist, he had learned to examine all the possibilities. In Barakhai, he worried that approach might paralyze him into total inactivity. At least, he could count on Prinivere's spell from his last visit to help him master any language they might have constructed during the centuries of isolation. Collins would have the technological advantage; he doubted any king would have provided deadly prisoners with anything they could learn to use as weapons.
Collins did think of more items he might find useful. He emptied his pockets back into his backpack, atop the spare clothing and toiletries. The Snickers had softened from his body heat, and was malleable in his grip. He chose his pocketed items more carefully: the pack of matches in his T-shirt, the tape recorder still looped onto his belt, the beef jerky and a few dog biscuits at his hips.
"Nervous?" Aisa squawked suddenly.
Collins jumped, nearly braining himself on an overhang. He studied the parrot, who returned the favor, head cocked. She balanced on a prominence, two toes on each scaly foot stretching forward and two backward. Speckles of dirt and parrot dandruff stippled her otherwise brilliant plumage. "Apparently," he finally managed with a smile.
"I would be, too," Aisa admitted. She straightened her head. "You should probably take some torches." She hunkered down, measuring distances before launching herself from the stone. Once in the air, she went from clunky to graceful, gliding effortlessly around the craggy interior to land on a box near where Collins had found his pack. "In here."
"Thanks." Collins dropped his pack and headed toward her.
Korfius looked up from where he lay, straight-legged and sideways, on the ground. His tail whacked the dirt, but he did not bother to rise.
Collins hefted the lid of the trunk to reveal a stack of wood wrapped at one end in oily rags. He took a half dozen, adding them to the load in his pack.
Aisa settled on the lip of the open lid. "You're up to this task?"
Collins did not know how to answer. "I hope so."
"Zylas depends on us. On you."
Collins wondered why the parrot/woman felt a need for this awkward conversation. "I've already said I'd do it. You don't have to convince me."
Aisa shifted from one bird foot to the other. "I know."
An uncomfortable silence ensued, and Collins suddenly wished he had not sounded so accusatory. The last time he had come to Barakhai, the renegades had brought him here by subterfuge and won his allegiance with half-truths. lie wished they would stop trying so hard to ascertain that he made all his own decisions, free from coercion. All choices involved at least a little duress, and he was not at all sure that, if his mission failed, he wanted full responsibility for his own death. Or worse, for Zylas'.
Aisa broke the hush. "I just want to make sure you don't commit yourself to something dangerous in ignorance."
"In this case, a certain amount of ignorance is unavoidable." Collins strapped up his pack and hefted it, testing its weight. He had to balance bringing anything he might find a use for against making a burden that might slow him in a life-or-death run for safety. He realized he could always drop it should speed became the determining factor. Can't outrun most predators anyway. He looked at Aisa again, still gripping the lid with first one claw, then the other. It suddenly occurred to him that she was not talking to reassure him, but herself. She had a dangerous mission ahead of her as well. "But I'm definitely going forward with it. If you, Ialin, and Falima can't rescue Zylas, I will."
Where Aisa's enormous black beak met the wrinkly white skin, it pulled taut, a birdie smile that compressed the fine, tiny feathers that formed the black stripes around her eyes. "I'm new to the special operations team."
Despite his own concerns, Collins had to suppress a grin. Those words sounded hilarious from the mouth of a parrot, even though he knew she had surely chosen others. The translation spell did a remarkable job with slang and jargon.
Aisa did not seem to notice Collins' lapse. "I didn't expect to get thrown into something so big so quickly. Our spies are good, but they can't know everything, everyone. Plans go awry; sometimes informants get caught. There are gaps… " She shook her head, dislodging a feather. "I don't know if I can fake through those well enough, especially in bird form. More nervous, worse overlap."
Collins could hear the difference discomfort made in her speech even as she explained it. Some of his fellow graduate students deliberately procrastinated before a major project, claimin
g they performed better under pressure. Clearly, stress had the opposite effect on Aisa. He tried to put her at ease. "From what I've seen so far, you're smart and capable. Don't lose your head, and you'll do fine." He could scarcely believe he found himself in the position of senior operative. Scrawny and bookish, he had never harbored any illusions about becoming a James Bond or a Walker, Texas Ranger. With his straight B average, he was not even destined to become one of those genius scientists the evildoers kidnapped to force them to help with some nefarious plot. He stroked her just behind the nostrils. "If I can do this, you can, too."
Aisa closed her eyes, clearly enjoying the touch as much as the pep talk.
Falima approached at that moment, and Collins watched her every fluid movement. There was nothing delicate about this woman, from her broad face to her chunkily muscled limbs, yet she still managed to carry herself with remarkable grace. She paced deliberately, yet every step seemed light and buoyant. Though built more for function than appearance, her unadorned dress swirled around well-proportioned curves. She would fill a size ten better than a model's two, but she needed that extra space for voluptuous breasts and sculpted hips that made her waist disappear. In his world, her naturally golden skin might make sun worshipers jealous or some doctor worry over jaundice. He loved the shape of her face, the imperfect set of her features, and the long hair, as black as ebony.
As Collins' fingers stilled on her face, Aisa opened her eyes. Without a word, she spread her wings and glided back to Ialin and Prinivere.
"I just came to say… " Falima lowered her head and kicked at a stone on the ground. "I mean we may not…" She looked to Collins to finish her point, but he could not. He truly did not know what she was trying to say.
Falima heaved a heavy sigh, then finally met Collins' gaze. Her eyes looked as untouched and beautiful as a blue-tiled pool before the swimming season, but depthless and bright. The black forelock that fell around them made an exotically stunning contrast. She was to Collins the loveliest creature on any world, and he realized without a hint of doubt that he loved her. "We're both going on… very difficult missions… and…"
The lost Dragons of Barakhai bob-2 Page 16