The Bond (Book 2)

Home > Fantasy > The Bond (Book 2) > Page 9
The Bond (Book 2) Page 9

by Adolfo Garza Jr.


  “Yes, yes, Lady Lora’s custom is most appreciated, that is true. But you did help me with my little . . . problem last year.”

  “Well, I made suggestions for your diet, which not only helped with your problem, it made you healthier. How is your wife, anyway?”

  “Much happier, thanks to you!”

  Gregor chuckled. “Yes, well, she’ll be happy that you will live a longer, healthier life as well, I’m sure. Anything for me today?”

  “Actually, I think . . . yes, yes. A letter. Though, not from Lady Lora, I don’t believe. Different handwriting.” He slid a thin envelope across the counter, through the window.

  Gregor examined it. The handwriting of the person who’d written the delivery address was only vaguely familiar. Though, there was a seal on back—his fingers felt the blob—perhaps that would be a clue? Turning over the letter revealed his family crest pressed into the colored wax.

  Was it his father? He twisted his mouth in a frown. Probably another request to join the company.

  He looked at Master Malho, waved the letter, and said, “Thank you.”

  “Any time, Journeyman. Any time.”

  Gregor,

  I have not written to you as much as I probably should have, for which I apologize. I get news of your life from your mother, so, perhaps that is why I tend to forget that you may wish to hear from me directly.

  At any rate, from what Lora tells me, it sounds like you are doing well with your chosen craft, Healing, and I want you to know this makes me proud.

  Lora also tells me that Baronel has a dragon. At first I thought your mother was playing some kind of joke on me, but I have heard this from other sources as well. I wonder if you could keep me apprised of anything you learn about this dragon. You may feel that this goes against loyalty to the lord of your caer, but I don’t think it is too much to ask. After all, Baronel does what he wants as long as it pleases him. Why shouldn’t we as well?

  All my love,

  Lord Eldin

  + + + + +

  Millinith sat at a table in the investigation office, waiting for the others to arrive for the meeting. Her fingers drummed on its wooden surface as she stared at the letter she’d received this morning.

  I should have anticipated this, she thought. The masters, too. Of course dragons would change things. How could they not? And when something new comes along, people used to the old ways panic.

  When ether writers were first announced, paper producers formed an organization opposing them, fearing letters would stop being written if the ether writers went into wide use. Never mind that ether writers were expensive, requiring several dozen enchantments and at least four sorcerers to produce a single pair. She shook her head. Letters would be written for decades, if not centuries, to come. But change makes people uncomfortable.

  And if you have a vested interest in the old way—

  “Would you like some hot tea?”

  Millinith’s entire body jerked. “Aeron! You startled me.”

  He gave out an embarrassed laugh. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “No, it’s not your fault. I was distracted. I received some troubling news with the mail today. And, yes, thank you, hot tea would be wonderful.”

  “News?” He handed the mug of tea to her, steam rising from its top.

  “I’d prefer to wait until everyone was here to tell it.”

  “Of course. I’ll just finish getting things ready.” He headed back to his study on the other end of the building.

  Taking a sip of the hot tea made her smile. It was sweetened just the way she liked it. Not too much, not too little.

  What had she been thinking about? Vested interests. Who else would be concerned with the impact dragons would have? When would the next letter arrive?

  The masters were the last to walk in, coffee mugs in their hands.

  “Before we begin,” Millinith said, “I think I should tell you about a letter I received.”

  Master Doronal and Master Canneth exchanged a look.

  “A letter?” The magic master stared intently at her.

  “From my aunt, Caryn.” Millinith looked down at the missive. “She owns the stage coach and mail delivery business that services our area.”

  She cleared her throat. “Anyway, about the letter. She asked me about ‘the dragon.’ She’s heard rumors about how quickly Anaya can get around and wants to know if Lord Baronel plans to use her in that capacity. Say, to deliver mail or people.”

  Pushing the letter away from her, she said, “I know—we know—that isn’t the case. But people are going to come to their own conclusions if we don’t do something about it.”

  “We’ll certainly have to address that issue,” Master Doronal said, tapping his lip with a finger. “And soon.”

  “Yours wasn’t the only letter received today.” Master Canneth looked concerned. He indicated himself and Master Doronal. “Lord Baronel called us into a meeting earlier. The Animal Craft Guildhall sent him a letter. A formal inquiry into his planned use of his dragon.”

  Millinith frowned. The Animal Craft Guild, too?

  A rumble came from Anaya’s den, and Aeron looked toward the door.

  Willem looked over as well. “What is it?”

  Aeron’s face flushed and he said, “Um. Anaya said she wasn’t Lord Baronel’s dragon.”

  “Of course you’re not,” Willem said, loud enough for her to hear. “We know that.”

  “Not everyone does, though,” Cheddar said.

  Millinith sat down, stomach in knots. “That’s not what’s important about all this.” She looked at Master Doronal. “Could this be a coincidence? Both my aunt and the craft guild thinking along these lines? At the same time?”

  “It’s possible,” the magic master allowed. “At any rate, we foresaw something like this.”

  “Oh?” Sharrah turned to Master Canneth.

  “Yes,” he said. “Though not this quickly.”

  Master Doronal looked at Millinith. “I’m going to need you to leave for Delcimaar. You’ll take two business applications with you to be filed at the Bureau of Business Affairs. Also, the three week trip there should give you plenty of time to continue your mastery studies. Especially as it will take just as long to return.”

  “What?” Millinith was stunned.

  “It may be coincidence that your aunt is concerned about dragons, but Master Canneth, Lord Baronel and I are of the opinion that someone is trying to get the Animal Craft Guild upset with us. That person or organization obviously feels threatened by some potential of dragons.”

  “Which is why,” Master Canneth said, “we need you to submit those applications. As a business concern, our effort with Anaya, with dragons, will have more protections than if it were just a sort of hobby.”

  Millinith nodded. “I see.”

  “A stage leaves tomorrow,” Master Doronal said. “I’d like you to be on it.”

  Aeron looked at the magic master. “Why two applications?”

  “We anticipated some resistance to dragons,” Master Doronal said, “though not so soon, and not so directed. We want to submit two, each with a different business focus, so that even if one is successfully defeated, we’ll have a chance to get the second one approved.”

  Sharrah nodded. “Makes sense.”

  “I’ll give you directions after the meeting,” Master Doronal told Millinith, “for my family’s residence. You’ll stay there while in Delcimaar. Also, I’d like you to give the second application to Erindia, my mother. She’ll turn it in. I don’t know that our efforts are under that much scrutiny, but it can’t hurt to submit them separately.”

  Millinith had to agree. There was definitely something suspicious about the two letters arriving so close together.

  Aeron cleared his throat. “Speaking of dragonlinked, there is another one out there, somewhere.”

  All eyes turned to him.

  “Last night Anaya and I felt the Bond spell. We sensed
the two of them for a moment before the feeling faded.”

  A happy rumble came from Anaya’s den, contrasting with the shock on most of the faces in the office.

  Chapter 5

  Therday, Secundy 16, 1874.

  Mid-morning.

  Eyes closed, arms spread wide, and leaning into the rush of air, Aeron sat astride Anaya, filled with the joy of flying.

  Her little bark of happiness brought a smile to his lips. It will always be fun to fly, dear-heart.

  It will.

  Opening eyes revealed they were in a sea of broken clouds far above the lands surrounding Caer Baronel. The cottony puffs made a patchwork of shadows and light across the plains below and the line of hills to the north.

  Anaya banked to the left, sharply, and plunged into a wall of mist. Deeper and deeper into the cloud they flew, the light dimming and the air growing even cooler. Tiny drops began to form on his goggles, crawl to the sides, and blow away. Sensing excitement and mischief through the link, he quickly lowered himself, clamped his legs to the saddle with the leg-locks, and gripped the hand-holds tightly. Not a second later, Anaya went into several barrel-rolls. Faster and faster they spun as she slowly drew her wings closer to her body. Then, trailing a plume of water vapor, they burst out into the bright sunlight. His whoop of joy was echoed by a happy, low rumble and a roar.

  It was absolutely amazing to fly with Anaya, but it also brought peace of mind, allowing clear thought. When Aeron had too many concerns, coming up here seemed to leave some of the worries behind, letting him focus on one thing at a time. Like the masters turning the investigation into a business.

  Some mention had been made of protections that a business enjoyed, but what exactly were they? Physical protection? No, more like legal protection, probably. Which would help, he supposed. Especially if someone was working against them. But who would be the owner of the business, who would be in charge? As long as it was Lord Baronel and the masters, that would be fine. They’d been doing a fair job leading their group so far.

  You could be in charge.

  Aeron blinked. Me?

  You.

  I’m not sure I want to be in charge.

  Why not?

  I’m having enough trouble being a dragonlinked, a good dragonlinked, much less leading them all.

  Do not discount yourself.

  Aeron twisted his mouth. Lead the dragonlinked? It just seemed like it could be a lot of trouble.

  And, he thought, what if I’m terrible at it?

  He set that problem aside and turned to a different one. His announcement two days ago about another dragonlinked had stirred up a frenzy of activity. The masters wanted to step up their efforts to get more dragonlinked. They approved Aeron’s idea about expanding the Dragon Stable, and construction with that aim had started today. The noise, workers, and the odd lookers-on were more reasons he’d decided to come flying with Anaya.

  While others worked to address food and shelter, Aeron wondered what else he could do. The practical spell lessons with Master Doronal were interesting and fun, and they’d certainly help him be a better nahual fighter. But was there nothing else? As the first dragonlinked, it seemed like he should be doing more.

  Well, what about that? If he didn’t want to forever be the only dragonlinked in Caer Baronel, they needed more—

  We should go to House Yaot. We can ask if any dragons would like their children to find bond-mates.

  You mentioned that before, but would it be that easy? From the way you described the workings of House Yaot, it seems like we’d have to convince the Queen that bonding is a good thing.

  I do not think convincing her is required. As long as we convince a few dragons, we will succeed.

  The masters had seemed to like the idea of going to House Yaot, too. Aeron had misgivings, however. There were a lot of dragons there. What if they didn’t like that Anaya and Aeron were bond-mates? What if they didn’t like him going to their home? Dragons were very nervous, after all.

  Aeron sighed. So many things to think about.

  Right now, though, he wanted to get back and do a recap of the spells he’d be tested on this afternoon. Just because he was dragonlinked didn’t mean he could slack off on his sorcery.

  Let’s get back, dear-heart. I need to study a bit.

  + + + + +

  Seemingly of its own mind, Renata’s left hand kept returning to her hair, stroking and feeling the back. With a frown, she lowered her arm and walked with as much confidence as she could muster.

  Without a mirror, she couldn’t be sure that her hair was still short enough to not draw attention. Nayra and Xochi had described it as best they could, but she’d like to have been able to confirm it for herself. She hoped it was, or this would be a very short trip. Heart beating rapidly and hands damp from nervous sweat, she strode along the south wall of Bataan-Mok.

  As she approached the archway, she grabbed the bottom of her Manisi tunic and tugged it, making sure it was aligned properly. Then she straightened her shoulders and rounded the corner.

  It was beautiful, she grudgingly admitted.

  Heavy stone columns and smooth walls were lit by the desert sun. The looming structure must have taken decades to complete. It was awe-inspiring. But it was all illusion. Like gold leaf artfully applied over lead, you had but to scratch the surface and its true nature was revealed.

  Her long legs quickly covered the ground to the bottom of the stairs. She looked up the fifty feet of steps. Only a little more to go.

  It bothered her how quickly Manisi attitudes—indoctrination?—returned. The way to walk, the way to hold your expression, the way to think, the way to be. Falling back into it was alarmingly easy.

  The two guards knew the uniform, of course, and it was clear they respected the position as they were both wary of meeting her eye. Duty overrode custom, however.

  “Pardon, Manis,” the older of the two said. She doubted he had reached his twentieth birthing day.

  She turned eyes upon him as if she beheld a lizard, or an ant. Certainly not someone anywhere near her status. “You spoke?”

  “Yes, Manis. I–I must inquire as to why you come in the north entrance.” He did not meet her eyes, merely stared forward.

  It was a fair question. The north side of Bataan-Mok backed upon the dry desert lands at the bottom of the Scars. Most travel was through the main entrance on the south side.

  “Manisi training is for Manisi. We do not explain our actions to . . . others.”

  “Of course, Manis.”

  A quick, sharp salute from the two guards and she was allowed to continue on her way. The threshold was passed. Out of the sun, she immediately felt cooler. And calmer. Maybe this would work after all.

  Xochi’s progress had been impressive, or so Nayra had told Renata. Never had her children picked up flying so quickly. It must be the memories, the large dragon conceded. Being able to tap into her mother’s memories of flying gave the hatchling an advantage other young dragons lacked. After only two days, Nayra had pronounced Xochi fit to fly on her own. Even so, she’d said, Xochi must pace herself to avoid injuring flight muscles.

  Are you are thinking of me? It seems like you are.

  Xochi, I told you that I need to concentrate for this. But yes, I was thinking about you. A surge of love came through the link and she sent one back. That dragon was inquisitive, reckless, and never seemed to slow down unless she was asleep. Even so, Renata would protect the hatchling with her own life, if need be.

  They could stay at the caves, maybe forever, but that wouldn’t truly keep Xochi safe, wouldn’t keep dragons safe. Renata was convinced that finding the boy was key. Thankfully, Xochi had been quite taken with the idea of leaving as soon as possible, of finding the mystery boy. And Nayra agreed that it would be best for her daughter to be away from here, away from the Order.

  Nayra warned Xochi about dangers to avoid, gave her advice on flying exercises, told her of foods to look for and avoid, and generall
y doted on her like any mother would. Xochi listened intently and dug up memories of everything she could, confirming them with her mother. Much of what they spoke of meant nothing to Renata, though every now and then she was able to get a sense of what they discussed through the link. As for herself, Renata had thought about what she would need for the long trip. She would not leave, however, until she spoke with Isandath.

  Are you there yet?

  Xochi’s eager voice brought a smile to her lips, which she quickly wiped from her expression. Sweetling, I told you that I would need to focus while I was in here.

  I am sorry. I just wish I knew what was happening.

  Two guards entered the hallway ahead, chatting as they made their rounds and occasionally glancing at those they passed. Renata avoided eye contact.

  I am a Manis. I belong here. I am superior.

  Hoping they wouldn’t see the beads of sweat on her nose and upper lip, she strode confidently down the hallway.

  They didn’t even notice her. With a mental sigh of relief, Renata continued to Isandath’s rooms. I should be on the archive floor in a few minutes.

  Once out of the main halls, she quickened her pace, almost jogging down the hallway. Halfway down the passage, she suddenly stopped. Hand reaching out, she touched the glass surface of a large mirror. It was the one from the dream that wasn’t a dream. Shaking off the odd sense of having been here many times, she continued on her way.

  I’m at Isandath’s door. Almost finished! A sense of happiness, of excitement, came through the link.

  A quick rap with her knuckles was followed by his invitation to enter.

  His eyes widened and a smile spread across his face when he saw her. The smile lessened somewhat, and he said, “Come in, come in!”

  Renata took a quick glance down the hallway, then closed the door.

  “My child,” Isandath said, taking her in his arms, “why have you returned?” He held her away, looked her over. “It seems desert life suits you. You appear to be hale and . . . happy.”

  She looked at him, and despite wanting to be very cross, she smiled. Shaking her head, she said, “A dragon?”

 

‹ Prev