Summon Your Dragons

by Roger Parkinson

  There were benches and tables scattered across the floor. They were ranged around a large, central pillar that rose to the roof. Most of the benches were empty because it was too early for the evening meal. A few old folk sat toothless near the fire, calling advice to the kitchen servants who seemed too busy to listen.

  The bustle near the fire, and the advice, ceased when Menish entered the room. A member of the old folk’s group rose and walked towards them, smiling a greeting. One of the women by the hearth followed him.

  “Sire! You've returned at last! For days now we've watched for you.”

  The man’s eyes flicked to Adhara and Menish smiled.

  “No doubt you had plenty of eyes willing to watch.” He turned to Azkun and Keashil. “This is Yarol, he's in charge of my house. He'll provide you with whatever you need while you stay here. If you need food or drink come to the hall. For clothing or other needs ask Yarol directly.”

  Menish turned to the woman. “Neathy, I've some special duties for you. Here are Keashil, her son Olcish, and Tenari. I want you to take care of them. Keashil is blind, but she plays the harp better than any other I've heard. Tenari doesn't speak, we think she's suffered great harm. Take them to the women’s lodge and show them welcome.”

  “Sire? The lad's a little old…”

  “They don't know our ways, leave him with his mother a few days and we'll see.” Neathy nodded, though she looked concerned, and led the women and Olcish away. Tenari made no protest at being separated from Azkun and Azkun himself felt relieved to see her go. She was the eyes of the Monnar and he was out of her sight now.

  Menish turned to Azkun.

  “You have the freedom of my home. The hall is the place where we gather in the morning and evening for food and company. You may not wish the former but you're welcome to both.

  “Althak and Drinagish will show you to the men’s lodge, a hall where the unmarried men sleep. The women’s lodge, where Neathy has taken Tenari and Keashil, is forbidden to men and the men’s lodge is forbidden to women. Do not take Tenari there under any circumstances and do not enter the women’s lodge yourself.

  “Now that you know the rules, let's refresh ourselves and meet back here for the evening meal.”

  The men’s lodge was much like the main hall, except it was smaller and there was a privy in one corner. A few forgotten sleeping furs lay on the straw and there were carved, wooden chests along the walls containing the personal effects of those who lived there. Althak and Drinagish found their chests and pulled out fresh clothing to replace their travel-stained garments. Hanging on the wall above Althak’s chest was a Vorthenki shield with a dragon painted on it. He hung the one he carried beside it.

  “It was my father’s,” said Althak when he saw where Azkun was looking. “He brought it from the north. I don't use it myself but I keep it in his memory.”

  Azkun changed into the clothes Vorish had given him to wear in Atonir, including the golden cord Tenari had tied about his waist.

  “Where is Hrangil?”

  “He has his own chamber, with all his books and things,” said Drinagish. “There aren't many such rooms here, most of us have to sleep in the lodges. Even me, though you'd think I'd get some preference now I'm the heir.”

  “M'Lord said you could have your own chamber when you're twenty,” said Althak.

  “And that's years away.”

  “Little bitch!” said Neathy when they returned to the main hall. Tenari had a ripening black eye and Neathy’s face was scratched. “She seemed placid enough so I thought I’d help her to the privy and look what I got!” She ran her hand along the scratches on her face. “She can look after herself from now on. If she wasn’t simple I’d call her out.”

  Keashil had said she needed sleep more than food so she had remained in the women’s lodge. Olcish had accompanied Neathy and Tenari back to the main hall. It was still almost empty and there was no sign of Menish.

  “I don’t expect to see those two for hours yet. You know what they're like.” Neathy winked. “Olcish, you could get a bowl of mein and take it to your mother if you want. No one would mind.”

  “I'll stay here,” the boy declared. “With the men.”

  “You can come back,” said Althak. “But take her a bowl anyway. She'd like it.” Olcish nodded and silently fetched a bowl of mein for his mother.

  Drinagish and Althak also fetched bowls of mein from the pots on the hearth. Tenari resumed her blank stare at Azkun. The bruise under her eye gave her a somewhat malevolent appearance.

  “Have you eaten, Neathy?” asked Althak picking up a bowl for her and offering to fill it.

  “No, I’m not hungry, but I suppose she is,” she said with a shrug. Althak put the bowl down.

  “She doesn't eat.”

  “What, never?”

  “Not since we found her. That was weeks ago now.”

  “She looks thin to me. Still, she won’t want the privy I suppose.”

  “Probably not. All she does is follow Azkun around. The only time she seemed more alive than she does now was in the palace of Atonir. It seems Meyathal isn't so much to her liking.”

  They sat at a bench near the fire and ate.

  “What's been happening while we've been away?”

  “Much and little.” Neathy shrugged. “Marayhir has been kicking up a stink about some cattle raid of Grath’s. He says it was illegal but his clan chief ruled against him so he wants to appeal to Menish. He refused to let Adhara make the judgement, which she was pretty annoyed about, so he's had to wait here until Menish arrived back. You can imagine how we all feel about that.

  “Your friend isn't eating. Won’t you have some mein?”

  “He doesn't eat either,” said Drinagish.

  “It's becoming fashionable by the look of it. I suppose he doesn't talk either?”

  “I speak. But food and drink are abhorrent to me.”

  “So you'll starve yourself to death?”

  “I do not need food. The dragons sustain me.”

  Neathy nodded slowly.

  “I thought you looked a bit Vorthenki. Be careful with talk of dragons in Meyathal. We don't like Vorthenki ways. There are few enough of us who will give Althak a civil greeting.”

  Azkun said nothing. He would have liked to explain to Neathy that she had not understood but this did not seem the time or the place. Besides, he was distracted by something.

  A tiny terror lurked in the far corner of the room. It was dimly lit there, the few windows did not light it well and the fire was too far away. He could hear a rustling and could see a grey shadow with murder in its heart. His attempts to shut it out were futile. He felt trapped. His back legs would not work and his front paws could only drag him across the straw on the floor while a gaping mouth leered over him. Something held his tail and he squeaked. The jaws closed on the back of his neck with a stab of fire. Darkness engulfed him.

  He shuddered; his hand knocked Drinagish’s bowl. “Careful!”

  “Oh, Kimi has a mouse!” shouted Neathy as a tawny cat carried its kill across the room towards them. “Here, Kimi, good boy.” The cat dropped the mouse on the floor near them and chirped with self-satisfaction. Neathy picked up the cat to stroke it but it wriggled free. Picking up its prey it carried it nearer the fire where it could devour it in comfort. Azkun was nearly sick.

  “That's the third mouse he's caught this week. The cooler weather drives them indoors, of course, and they've forgotten their peril. And he loves it.” The last remark was half addressed to the cat who looked up, licking its lips. To Azkun it had a cruel beauty about it. The flecked, tawny coat was hard to see on the straw that covered the floor. He suspected it would blend into almost any background. Its large eyes and ears were ever alert for more victims even as it ate its present kill. Unlike Vorish’s indolent cat this one seemed terrifyingly predatory.

  He felt two beasts being killed not long afterwards, reminding him that his friends were no less predatory, but they wer
e far away and he felt them less than the mouse. Azkun stared at the fire and tried to forget death, willing down his fears with memories of the dragon.

  Later, as the sun set, Menish’s folk began to arrive in the hall for the evening meal. Azkun did not want to stay. The death of the mouse had wounded his soul. He wanted to take his agony away to some quiet corner. But there were no quiet corners. As the evening deepened into night more and more people entered the palace. Many were Menish’s own folk, those who tended his herds and fields. Others were guests, either residents of the town beyond the walls come to welcome their King home, or visitors from the fringe of tents around about.

  Unlike the Vorthenki the Anthorians had no tradition of speech making before getting their meat and their women served themselves. Azkun was surprised. The atmosphere was not as oppressive as it had been in Vorish’s hall. People wandered about talking and drinking. They seemed relaxed and happy, though each wore a sword. They were a contradiction. He saw the cat pestering one man for some meat. It climbed onto his shoulder and sat with its cheek beside the man’s face watching his every mouthful. Occasionally the man reached behind his head and stroked the cat and, in return, it snuggled against his neck. It was absurd. Swords and claws and teeth, all tokens of death, and yet there was affection displayed openly. Azkun did not understand it.

  “Hey, Grath!” Drinagish shouted as he saw the northerner enter. They made their way across the hall towards him, Drinagish nodding greetings as he went. Althak also greeted a few people, but several turned away from him. It was as Neathy had said, Althak was not universally popular in Menish’s hall.

  Drinagish and Althak greeted Grath warmly. To Azkun he seemed changed from when he had travelled with them in the north. But, of course, he was cleaner and dressed in court clothes now. He had some tale of raiding cows for them, a double raid on the same herd, which he told with relish. Azkun did not follow it very well. He was trying to avoid watching them eat.

  Not long after Grath arrived Menish and Adhara entered the hall. The general noise of conversation subsided for a moment then rose to a cheer of welcome that Menish answered by climbing onto one of the benches and, with a smile, signalling for silence.

  “By Aton, you all look well fed and ready to hear where I have been for the last few weeks.” There was a hearty chorus of yeses around the room. “Well you can wait until I've eaten. I'm not going to spend a moment longer up here with the smell of good Anthorian meat in my nostrils.”

  There were good-natured protests, but mostly laughter as he climbed down and made his way to the food. Some time later, when he had eaten and moved among the crowd, and consistently shrugged off questions about where he had been, he climbed back onto the bench and spoke to them.

  “Now that we've all eaten I'll tell you my tale,” he began amid laughter. He proceeded to give them a general description of his travels, though several things were left out. Azkun and Tenari were described as homeless wanderers and he left the impression that they had joined them from the pirate ship just as Keashil and Olcish had. He spent some time describing the fight with the pirates, dwelling on the valour of Drinagish and Althak, but he did not mention Thalissa at all. Their stay at Deenar was carefully described. Some of those present remembered Darven. Menish gave the impression that the Vorthenki chief was instilling Anthorian manners into the barbarous folk of the Vorthenki coasts, which was partly true.

  When he told them of their time in Atonir he became serious. Vorish had heard from somewhere, he told them, of a possible attack from Gashan. It was only a rumour as yet, but Althak, Hrangil and Azkun were going north to see. Meanwhile they should all sharpen their swords “…for we may be hunting Gashans in the spring.” The spring games would produce a gathering point for the scattered folk of Anthor and, depending on what news the expedition brought back, they would take those ready to fight and march north when the games were over.

  Chapter 22: Menish's Court

  The next morning Menish held court in the main hall. While last night’s gathering had been an informal affair, mainly dedicated to eating and drinking and exchanging news, today’s was more carefully organised.

  The benches and tables were pushed back to the walls and those who attended sat on the floor as they traditionally did in the Anthorian tents. There was no throne in Menish’s hall but there was a central pillar that he sat beside. Althak explained to Azkun that this represented the main post of a tent, the traditional place for an Anthorian chief.

  Menish declared the court in session and asked for the first complaint. A man about Menish’s age rose to his feet to speak. Azkun heard a woman near him mutter “Oh it’s Marayhir again” with disgust in her voice.

  “Three times this year my herds have been raided, twice by the King’s own household. I would like to ask when it became lawful for the King to raid his people’s herds.”

  “Marayhir, I've not raided your herds. Anyone of my household will tell you that I've been journeying for weeks, not raiding. Who of my household has raided you?”

  “Grath. I've witnesses who saw him.”

  Menish shrugged.

  “Grath is a member of my household, as you are at the moment. But your herds are not my herds. Neither are Grath’s. Don't say that I raided your herds.

  “Were the raids unlawful in any other way?”

  “Ah, yes, yes they were. He took all my best cows, most of them in calf. More than half of my breeding stock. They will have calved by now.”

  “I protest!” Grath stood up. “On no occasion did I take more than half of what was there-”

  “I had three hundred cows, now I have less than one hundred. You northerners can't even count your fingers-”

  “Grath, how do you answer?”

  “What he says about his cows is true, but there were two raids. I took as much as the law allows both times. No more than half the breeding stock there.”

  Laughter rippled through the room and someone cheered. Marayhir was not popular, even Menish grinned.

  “Is this true, Marayhir? How much time was there between the raids?”

  Marayhir looked surly. “There were two raids in a sense. They were only a day apart. The raiding party lay in wait overnight and attacked again at dawn. It might as well have been a single raid.”

  “And were the cows in calf, Grath?”

  “Some of them, not many. Marayhir does not manage his herd well. Many were thin and ill. Hardly worth raiding-”

  “Damn you, northern dung! Say that again and I'll see your guts writhing on the ground when I open you with my sword!” He drew his sword and brandished it above his head.

  “Silence,” shouted Menish. “Put away your weapon, Marayhir. If you attempt to draw it again within my court I'll confiscate your herds and send you on your way with no more than a crust of bread.”

  “I was sorely provoked-”

  “If there was no substance in Grath’s claim you would have ignored it. Now here is the judgement of the King in this matter.

  “First, I take exception to Marayhir’s accusation that I was involved in these raids. We have an ancient law: the King may not raid and no one may raid the King. Though most of you ate enough of my meat last night.” This brought a murmur of laughter. “That is the law, it hasn't changed.

  “Second, Grath’s raids were lawful. He took no more than half the breeding stock.” A muttering came from Marayhir. “It seems that precious few of your folk were guarding them if Grath could raid you two days running.

  “But Grath said they were hardly worth raiding and it is a hard thing to lose so many in such a short time. I rule that Grath returns one hundred of the cows. I'll send Drinagish with you to help you count them.”

  “And the calves!” shouted Marayhir. “You've forgotten the calves.”

  “I've not forgotten the calves. You'll treat my house with more respect in future, Marayhir, if Grath is allowed to keep the calves. You'll also keep better watch on your herds in future for the loss.”


  There were two other disputes for Menish to settle: one of them related to a caravan raid and the other to a feud that was becoming tiresome to others. The former was a case where the clan chief had ruled against the caravanners and they had appealed to Menish who reversed the decision. The second dispute was more complex.

  The feud concerned two families of the Romarbol clan who had an argument over a grazing area in one of the eastern valleys called the Githal. The feud, as such, was not Menish’s concern but a member of each family, Traan and Gilth, had been involved in a raid against their common enemy, the Rithyar clan, and the unheard-of had happened. The two men had started quarrelling in the heat of the raid, drawing swords without the formality of challenging a duel. In the confusion the raiders were driven off and the Rithyar clan were delighted with the situation. The other raiders were furious. Their clan chief did not want to judge the matter so it was passed to Menish.

  It took some time to hear the views of all those involved and Menish was weary of the case by the time they were finished. There was no simple answer. Traan and Gilth would not agree. The other raiders wanted compensation for the failure of the raid. There was only one decision that would come near to satisfying all parties.

  “Here is the judgement of the King. It's not right to expect compensation for cattle not raided. Raiding always has its risks and those risks must be accepted. You should choose your companions more carefully in future. But Traan and Gilth did badly to fight each other when they had agreed to join the same raiding party. We've no law against it but it was not a noble action. I rule that they can settle their differences before us all in a trial of strength this afternoon. In doing so they can repay those of their raiding party they let down by providing a good fight. They'll be forbidden to duel for the next three months on any matter. And they both lose the use of the grazing land they fought over for that period.”