by Kailin Gow
Slowly, Wirt became aware of a second voice mixed in with Roland’s. It was hard to hear, so hoarse and croaky that it was barely audible, but it was there.
“We do not have time for patience. I have been patient. Now, you need to succeed. There cannot be any excuses.”
“I’ve told you,” Roland said, “everything is going well. I know what I’m doing. You just need to trust me.”
“And you need to remember your place.”
For a moment, just a moment, Wirt thought he saw genuine fear flicker across his new roommate’s features. It was all the worse for being bathed in that strange green light. Whatever was in that box, it terrified him.
“I didn’t mean-”
“Silence.”
Roland hung his head, and several seconds passed. Finally, the show of contrition seemed to be enough for whatever was in the box.
“Tell me about the progress you have made so far,” the voice demanded.
“I’ve managed to get close to the girl,” Roland said. “That was easy. She likes me enough that she won’t be a problem. As for the other boy, it’s just a matter of time before I’m able to drive a wedge between them. He’ll be cut off, weak.”
“You’re certain?” the voice from the box demanded.
Roland nodded. When he spoke, his voice still held a trace of fear, but it was also determined. “I’m certain. You can count on me.”
The voice in the box seemed to be satisfied enough with that. “Then we will strike mid-term. There will be only one chance, so we must not fail.”
“I won’t.”
“If you do, you know what will happen.”
“I won’t fail,” Roland insisted, and shut the lid of the box. It meant that Wirt could see far less of him, but also that there was no chance of Roland spotting that Wirt was awake. Wirt tried to make some sense of what he had heard. It was obvious that Roland was planning something. Or at least, that something else, whatever it was that lived in that box, was planning something, and Roland was carrying out its instructions.
Wirt really didn’t like the sound of the words “strike mid-term”. Words like that could mean almost nothing good. In fact, they almost certainly meant the exact opposite. They meant people getting hurt, or worse, in Wirt’s experience. And the people in question? Wirt had a horrible feeling that they were going to be close to him. After all, Roland had said that he had been getting close to a girl as part of this plan, and one girl he had definitely been getting close to recently was Alana.
So why was Wirt still lying in the dark, doing nothing? Shouldn’t he get up, conjure a light, and leap over to accuse Roland? Of what though? Talking to boxes? Somehow, Wirt suspected that wouldn’t get him very far. Oh, he could go to Ms. Lake, or even to the headmaster, but then it would just be his word against Roland’s, and Wirt didn’t even know what it was the other boy intended to do.
No, he needed more information before he could act. He needed to know what Roland planned, and exactly what was in that box. Which meant that for now, all Wirt could do was roll over and try to get back to sleep. Somehow, he didn’t think it would be that easy.
Chapter 9
Wirt hopped back as flames licked at his feet, then stumbled as a small, scaly form slammed into the back of his knees. Thankfully, Alana rushed forward to shoo a baby dragon back before it could get too interested in Wirt. Not that Wirt imagined the little creature would want to hurt him deliberately, but the small dragons seemed not to understand that humans weren’t as durable as they were. Instead, they treated them just the way they would their fellow dragons, which seemed to include flaming at them to get attention.
“Remind me why we’re here,” Wirt said.
Alana smiled. “Mostly because someone did so well with the unicorns that Sir Percival is prepared to trust us with his pet project.”
The project in question was a huge cave, located on one of the further reaches of the academy’s transport system, where small dragons, barely hatched for the most part, frolicked and flamed their way through childhood. The idea was to build up dragon numbers by giving the little creatures a safe place to grow up. It seemed to Wirt like an odd thing for a former dragon hunter to do, but then, Wirt guessed that it might just be Sir Percival’s way of ensuring that he had plenty of dragons to fight in the future.
In theory, the knight was meant to be in there with Wirt and Alana, supervising as they babysat the little creatures and teaching them more about the conservation of magical species. Unfortunately for Wirt and Alana, Wirt had made the mistake of mentioning where they were going to Llew on a visit to his cave, and now the dragon was sitting outside with Sir Percival, reminiscing about old times while Wirt and Alana had to do all the work.
There was a lot of work, too, mostly because the dozen or so small dragons there were boisterous little things, every bit as playful as a human toddler, and about as coordinated in some respects. Already, a small green-scaled one had managed to fly into a wall, and had howled until Alana had gone over and rubbed its injured nose better.
Of course, one of the others had promptly tied her shoelaces together, managing to hold a human form just long enough to finish off the knots before gamboling off back into the main group. Apparently, dragons of that age were far too young to go around transforming themselves into other forms, but someone seemed to have forgotten to tell the dragons that. They shifted and changed almost at random, so that at any given moment, Wirt and Alana were trying to control a mixed group of multi-hued dragons and human toddlers, at least one of whom would take a few stumbling steps towards one of its fellows before leaping on it in full dragon form.
“We should give them their lunch,” Alana suggested after an hour or so of watching the dragons. “I think they’re getting hungry.”
Wirt was about to ask what made her say that when he felt something on his foot. He looked down to see one of the smallest dragons chewing on his sneaker, the way a puppy might. Except that puppies generally didn’t come up to his waist.
“Get off,” Wirt said, and the dragon gave him a hurt look before backing away, letting out a mournful little gout of flame, leaving Wirt feeling a little guilty for the sharpness of his tone.
Though he felt slightly less guilty when a couple of dragons attempting to race one another to the other end of the cave succeeded in knocking him sprawling and Wirt found himself facing a hungry looking circle of the creatures. “I think you’re right, Alana,” he said. “It’s definitely time for their lunch. At this rate, we’re both going to end up as dragon snacks.”
“They wouldn’t mean it,” Alana said, moving over to the large sack that Sir Percival had brought with him, which apparently contained enough provisions even for a ravenous horde of baby dragons. “They just don’t know any better.”
Wirt didn’t point out that it wasn’t a thought that would make them feel much better while they were being eaten. After all, Alana had a point of sorts, and the dragons would probably feel a little better once they’d had a chance to eat properly. Wirt went over to help Alana with the sack and found that it was full of cuts of raw meat. Big cuts, too. There were whole sides of beef in there, as well as other, less identifiable things.
Together, Wirt and Alana pulled them out of the sack, tossing the meat to the baby dragons, which fell on it with the kind of enthusiasm that suggested they had only just gotten their meal in time. Several of them blew fire on the meat with cross eyed looks of concentration, flame grilling it instantly before gulping it down in big swallows.
Most of the dragons took a nap after their meal, curling up like cats on the stone floor and letting out little spurts of flame as they snored. A few, however, gathered round Wirt and Alana.
“Want a story,” one demanded, clinging to human form just long enough to get the words out before looking up at them expectantly as a dragon once again. The others seemed to share the sentiment, because they sat still, waiting. So Alana told them a story, all about a princess who found people deliv
ering spinning wheels to her room at three in the morning, and what her father had done to them as a result. It didn’t take long to recognize Priscilla at the heart of it, but the dragons seemed satisfied. Particularly when Alana started to illustrate the story with illusions. Her one of King Wilford shouting was especially good.
It wasn’t long before the little dragons curled up and went to sleep with their friends, leaving Wirt and Alana alone in the cave.
“You’re very good with them,” Wirt said.
“It’s probably all that practice looking after Priscilla.”
Wirt nodded. “Have you thought what you’ll do if you don’t… I mean…”
“If I don’t make the elite class, and so can’t be anyone’s advisor?” Alana shook her head. “That isn’t an option.”
They sat in silence for a while then. Briefly, Wirt considered opening up and telling Alana about Roland. After all, they were alone here, with the only people likely to overhear young dragons who wouldn’t understand. The trouble was, Wirt suspected Alana wouldn’t understand either. She would say that Wirt had dreamed it, or that he hadn’t seen it properly. It was obvious from the amount of time that she spent around Roland that she liked him.
Did Wirt owe it to Alana to say something anyway? If she was getting close to the boy, then surely Wirt ought to warn Alana about the kind of person Roland was. Wirt thought about his promise to Spencer to keep an eye out for Alana. This had to come under it. Even when there was a good chance that it would hurt Alana’s feelings, Wirt had to say something.
“Alana, I-”
“Wirt-”
They both stopped, in an awkward, silent moment when Wirt wasn’t sure whether to say anything or not. Alana went on before he could make up his mind.
“Wirt, I’ve had a really good time today, here with you. I just wanted to say… I just wanted…”
Alana leant towards him, and Wirt knew that she meant to kiss him, the way they had kissed once before, back in the previous term. Wirt could still remember that kiss. It had been sweet, and gentle, and almost perfect. Would this one feel the same? Would this one be even better? After all, Alana was, if anything, even more beautiful this year than she had been, and Wirt knew that the moment was exactly right.
Well, not exactly…
There was his promise to Spencer to think about, after all. Wirt was pretty sure that doing his best to look out for Alana didn’t include kissing her. In fact, it was about as big a betrayal of his friend as Wirt could think of. One that would undoubtedly destroy their friendship if Spencer heard about it. For all that Spencer and Alana were officially over, Wirt was sure that the other boy still had feelings towards her. Knowing that, could he really kiss her here, like this?
Wirt knew the answer even as he stepped back, away from Alana.
“Wirt?” Alana’s expression was hurt. Confused. “What is it?”
Wirt wanted to explain. Wanted to make her feel better. The trouble was, he couldn’t think of anything he could say that wouldn’t just make things worse.
“I’m sorry, Alana, I just can’t.”
Alana looked, if anything, even more hurt by that, but she didn’t have a chance to say anything, because one of the dragons ran up to her, having finished its nap. Wirt recognized the one that had bumped into the wall earlier. It transformed into a human toddler, clutching its mouth.
“Look Miss, my tooth is all wobbly!”
The child changed back in that moment, and as it did, something fell from its mouth. A tooth. Wirt watched it tumble. Then there was an armor clad shape throwing itself between Wirt and the dragon, as Sir Percival dove full stretch to catch the tooth before it could touch the ground.
“Honestly,” the knight said, “do you two want to spend your afternoon fighting un-killable skeletal warriors?” He looked around him. “Still, a good job with the little ones, overall. You can both head back now if you like.”
Wirt didn’t need any further prompting, and it seemed that Alana didn’t either, though the little dragons seemed sorry to see them go. The two of them headed back up through the tree, up to the student common room. Alana didn’t say anything to Wirt on the way, and quickly broke from him once she got there.
Roland was there, of course, playing his guitar for the other students. To Wirt, the way he played seemed to be all showing off and volume, but the other students obviously liked it, because several of them had gathered around. He stopped playing as Wirt and Alana entered, putting his guitar down.
Alana rushed over to him. Genuinely rushed, as though she couldn’t wait to be in his arms. Roland, for his part, was only too happy to enfold her in a hug that seemed totally protective. Why would she do that, so soon after almost kissing Wirt? Unless Alana had been just looking for comfort like this from Wirt, and now that she couldn’t get it… As Roland led Alana to a corner of the room, holding her hand and talking softly to her, Wirt cursed himself for his stupidity.
He still couldn’t believe how fast Roland had managed to move in on Alana though. Maybe he should have told her what he’d seen, if only to stop things getting this far. As it was, it was almost certainly too late. Roland even looked at Wirt over Alana’s shoulder, smirking in a way that made it clear what his thoughts on the matter were.
Wirt turned and stalked in the direction of their room without a word. He was starting to really hate Roland.
Chapter 10
At breakfast the next morning, Roland wasn’t in the cafeteria, which left Alana free to sit with Wirt and Spencer, though Wirt noted that Alana hardly said anything to his former roommate. Apparently, the wounds caused by their breakup over the summer still hadn’t healed completely.
Alana also seemed very careful when she talked to Wirt. She hardly mentioned the cave full of baby dragons, and she certainly didn’t mention almost kissing Wirt. Wirt couldn’t be sure whether that was just because she didn’t want to hurt Spencer’s feelings or because Wirt had missed his opportunity, though.
Alana did talk about Roland. Apparently, she and the new boy had spent plenty of time talking the previous day, and now Alana couldn’t wait to share everything she had learned. She told them how Roland had been privately tutored before coming to the school, how he’d spent the summer working in his family’s business interests, and how he was this sensitive guy, really whom Spencer and Wirt would really like, if only they gave him a chance.
“Give him a chance,” Spencer echoed. “After what his father did?”
“You’ve got to put the past behind you,” Alana said. “After all, it wasn’t Roland who did anything, was it?”
“If you like Roland so much, maybe you should have had breakfast with him,” Spencer suggested.
“He was busy, or I would have,” Alana shot back and looked like she might have had more to say, except that Priscilla chose that moment to come in, bubbling with excitement.
“Oh, Alana, have you heard?”
“Have I heard what, Priscilla?”
“Daddy’s here, and he has an announcement to make. He wants to see us down in front of the tree. Well, me and Robert, really, but I’m sure he meant you too.”
“Robert hasn’t been practicing Fooling again, has he?” Wirt asked. It was apparently a perpetual disappointment to King Wilford that his son seemed to be more interested in jesting than in rulership, while his daughter was… well, Priscilla. The princess shook her head though.
“He doesn’t do that anymore. At least, not where people can see, and apparently, jesting to yourself just isn’t the same. Robert’s even started jousting, just to keep Daddy happy. He isn’t very good at it.”
Wirt could imagine. Robert was to the traditional noble pursuits of fighting, riding and preparing for war approximately what a lead weight was to flying. Still, if he was making an effort to avoid his father’s notoriously bad temper, that was something.
“So we need to head downstairs,” Priscilla said to Alana, and twirled about. “Do I look all right?”
Fo
r once, the princess actually did, the sky blue dress she wore suiting her a lot better than most of the things that she generally picked out with the aid of her magic mirror.
“You look fine, Priscilla,” Alana said. “Now, do I have time to go back to the room and change, or-”
“Oh no,” Priscilla said. “Daddy’s waiting downstairs now.”
That earned Priscilla one of those pauses that seemed to crop up so often in conversations with her, as those around her strove to make the necessary mental adjustments to keep from shouting at her.
“You mean that we’re keeping King Wilford waiting?” Alana asked. “King Wilford, who hates to be kept waiting?”
“Um… I guess so,” Priscilla said, and Alana hurried off with her. Wirt and Spencer followed in her wake. Not that Wirt wanted to risk attracting any royal anger, but he also wanted to see what was so important that King Wilford would just show up like that over it. Besides, some part of him wanted to make sure that Alana was all right. After all, the king was not someone who tolerated people who didn’t do as they were told immediately.
So the four of them hurtled through the tree’s transport tubes, finally arriving at the tree’s entrance hall and then heading out into the field beyond it. King Wilford was indeed there, accompanied by a retinue of knights, talking to Ender Paine about something that was probably to do with the running of the school. After all, the academy sat in King Wilford’s kingdom, and he had a permanent position on the management board as a result.
Robert was there too, dressed like a royal prince for once rather than a Fool, wearing an outfit of crimson velvet along with a sword that seemed out of place as it hung at his waist. From what Wirt knew of him, Robert was hopeless at things like sword fighting. Indeed, it said a lot about the prince that, in almost every respect, Priscilla was a better candidate to take over her father’s kingdom than he was.