Dragonshadow

by Elle Katharine White

  I yelped as Alastair’s fingers dug into my arm. We spun around. An old woman dressed in the plain livery of a household servant stood in the corridor. The corridor that had, just a moment before, been empty.

  “Who are you?” she said again.

  “Alastair and Aliza Daired,” Alastair answered. He did not relax his grip on my arm. “Lord Selwyn commissioned us—”

  “You should not have come.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Lord Selwyn should not have sent for you. Go home.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Did you not hear me? Go home!”

  “Madam, you must know I can’t do that,” he said coldly. “Where is he?”

  She turned away. “If you will not leave, then look to the lake, but know that you waste your steel here. You cannot protect us.”

  “Is Lord Selwyn at the lake now?”

  “Yes.”

  She watched us in silence as we started back along the winding hall. When I looked over my shoulder, she was gone.

  Akarra had not left the courtyard. She paced along the east wall, sniffing the wind. When we told her about the old woman and what she’d said, she agreed to investigate the lake at once. “I thought I’d noticed something over on the eastern shore. There’s a commotion.”

  Neither she nor Alastair suggested I stay behind in the castle.

  We flew east over the quay and the castle promontory. A lantern hung from the end of the quay, its rays piercing the nighttime mists rising from the lake, and soon we could see for ourselves the tumult onshore. Torches bobbed by the water’s edge, and the sound of shouting and splashing reached our ears as Akarra landed on the beach at the edge of the circle of light. The shouts ceased. In the silence, a voice cried out. “Who goes there?”

  Alastair announced us and a second man, one with long silver hair, stepped forward. I recognized him immediately. He even wore the same wheel-and-trident pin as his portrait. “Lord Daired! Thank the gods,” Lord Selwyn said. “And . . .” His expression went carefully blank. “Ah. I see you brought Lady Daired. Well. Yes. I’m so glad you’ve arrived.”

  “One of your servants told us to come here,” Alastair said. “What’s going on?”

  Selwyn beckoned us over to the shore. “Bad business, my lord. Come see.”

  The crowd parted to let us pass, and I caught everything from suspicion to disappointment on their faces as they took in the sight of their first Daireds. One bearded man even sneered.

  “I told you about the girl who went missing, didn’t I?” Selwyn said.

  “Yes.”

  “We found her.”

  A girl’s body lay on the stones at the water’s edge, her hair tangled with waterweeds, her dress ragged and torn. Her face and neck were swollen to a nightmarish size, the skin mottled green and livid. Eyes that might’ve once been blue stared at something we could not see, their surface now clouded by water and decay. Her flesh looked one careless touch away from falling off her bones. I covered my mouth as Alastair crouched next to the corpse.

  “When did you find her?”

  “Brigsley-Baine did.” Selwyn nodded to a short, plump woman in the robes of a cantor hovering at the front of the crowd. “Not a half hour ago.”

  “That’s right, Your Lordship,” Cantor Brigsley-Baine said. “I was out for my nightly stroll when I heard splashing from the lake. Merfolk don’t usually come this close to town, so I went to see what was the matter. A few of them were towing poor Isolde’s body there. They pushed it up on the shore and swam away.”

  I looked out across the lake. Dark shapes floated a hundred yards from shore. When they saw us, they ducked underwater and disappeared.

  The townsfolk backed away to let Akarra through. She leaned close to examine the body. “How long had she been missing?”

  “A few weeks.”

  “No bites or claw marks, khela,” Akarra muttered. “And no defensive wounds I can see.”

  And no heart removed, I thought.

  Alastair nodded. “Lord Selwyn, Cantor Brigsley-Baine, do you know how she died?”

  “We think drowning, my lord,” the cantor said, “but the Lake Meera merfolk have never been malicious before. We can’t imagine why they’d wish to harm her. Isolde was a sweet girl, and she knew better than to provoke the water-folk.”

  Akarra reached out with one wingtip and touched the girl’s cheek. Her head lolled to the side—a horrible sight I felt confident I’d be seeing again in my nightmares for weeks to come—but something about the motion seemed odd too. Akarra nodded. “There. It wasn’t drowning. Her neck was broken.”

  The cantor gasped, and she and a number of others made the fourfold gesture as if to ward away the evil that had touched their shores. Selwyn straightened and addressed the townsfolk. “Friends, go home. You can do nothing more tonight.”

  “Sir, what about her body?” the cantor said.

  “The girl served my house for many years,” Selwyn said. “She had no family but us. Castle Selwyn will see to it she gets a proper pyre.”

  With grave mutters and the quiet shuffle of feet the bulk of the crowd dispersed, taking their torches with them. Most that remained wore the navy livery of the castle. A man with the four-cornered hat of a magistrate came forward and plucked Selwyn’s elbow. “My lord, a word?” Selwyn drew the magistrate aside, taking care to stay in the light of the torches. I listened to the two men as Alastair continued to study the corpse. “The guildmasters will not be happy to hear of this,” the magistrate said.

  “I’d hope not.”

  “Of course, sir, but there are already whispers among the dockhands about the earlier, er, misfortune with the Idar. If the rumors of an unknown monster spread beyond the lake, trade will be affected. It’s all we can do to keep the ships coming in as it is. The right ships,” he said, with a brief glance over his shoulder. I followed his gaze and saw he referred to the bearded man—the same one who had sneered. He was speaking with the cantor.

  Selwyn looked off into the shoreward darkness. His fingers tugged at the edge of his surcoat. “I’m aware of that, Polton, but what would you have me do? Gag every dockhand?”

  “No, sir. I’m merely suggesting circumspection. Perhaps avoid mentioning Mermish involvement in Isolde’s, ah, discovery, until we’re more certain of our position with the merfolk. If this Idar business has turned the lake denizens against us, a dead chambermaid may be the least of our worries.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, for one, the merfolk may not be willing to keep the channels clear when the ice sets in, and with the channels blocked—”

  “This wasn’t the doing of the merfolk, Magistrate,” Akarra cut in.

  Both men looked at her. “It wasn’t?” the magistrate asked.

  “If they’d killed her, they wouldn’t have waited so long to push her body ashore,” she said.

  “She’s right. This is something different.” Alastair stood. “I don’t think she was killed near here at all.”

  “You see?” Selwyn said. “Your guildmasters have nothing to worry about. Lord Daired has everything in hand.”

  “Well.” The magistrate sniffed. “I suppose.”

  “Tell your dockhands there is a dragon in residence at Castle Selwyn. That will quell the gossip for a while,” Selwyn said.

  “It might, I grant, but—”

  “For gods’ sakes, go home, Polton.” A new voice spoke from behind us. It was the bearded man, who I now noticed wore the red cloak of a Ranger. He had a hint of a Noordish accent. “That’s what His Lordship is trying to say.”

  Magistrate Polton huffed and turned on his heel.

  “Goodnight, Lord Selwyn. Lord and Lady Daired,” the cantor said, and she followed the magistrate toward town, leaving the Ranger with us.

  “I’m so sorry to welcome you this way, Lord Daired,” Selwyn said, though he didn’t look at us as he spoke. His eyes were still fixed at some invisible point in the darkness beyond the
beach. At a cough from the bearded man he made a vague motion in his direction. “This is my, ah, friend, Captain Owin Rhys of the Lake Meera Free Regiment. I’ve invited him to stay on at the castle in your friend Master Gorecrow’s absence.”

  “Theold isn’t here?” Alastair asked.

  “No, though I can’t imagine what kept him. I expected him days ago.”

  Rhys gave Alastair a theatrical bow. “In the meantime, I trust you won’t turn away the assistance of a poor Ranger, humble though it may be.”

  “We can discuss the details of your contracts later,” Selwyn cut in before Alastair could reply. “Come. We really must return to the castle. Rhys, give me your cloak.”

  “What?”

  “Your cloak, man.”

  “Why?”

  “We need to carry her body up to the castle.”

  “Absolutely not!”

  “Lord Selwyn, I’d like to take care of the pyre,” Akarra said. “Here. Tonight. There’s no need to take her all the way up to the castle.”

  He gave her a sharp look. “Are you sure?”

  “You said she had no family?”

  “No. But she had friends who may wish to say goodbye. She had been a chambermaid in the castle for years.”

  “They won’t want to see her like this.”

  He glanced at the bloated corpse, then looked away. “All right. Do what you must. Lord and Lady Daired, the castle is this way.”

  “Go,” Alastair said. “We’ll follow.”

  “You—oh, very well, but you’d be wise not to linger. And watch your step on the cliff stair. It can be treacherous in the dark.”

  Akarra lowered her head as Selwyn’s retinue started up the path to the castle. “Can you burn her body?” I asked when they were out of earshot.

  “It will take some time, but yes, I can. She’s not water-born. But that’s not the only reason I want to stay. I want to try to speak to the merfolk. They may be more willing to talk about what happened if there are no humans around.” She helped Alastair remove the panniers but nudged us toward the castle before he could unbuckle her saddle. “I don’t mind leaving it on for one night. You have enough to carry.” Voices rose and fell from somewhere along the path. The distance muddled the words, but Selwyn’s irritated tone was unmistakable. “There,” she said. “You’d better go keep things civil.”

  The path to Castle Selwyn wound along the shore and past the lantern-lit quay before angling upward along the brow of the cliff. We went slowly, heeding Selwyn’s warning. Dirt and gravel gave way to stone steps. Moss made the risers slippery, and if it weren’t for the moon, the stairs might’ve been almost impossible to navigate. At least the wall bordering the cliffside of the path gave the illusion of security.

  Selwyn’s return had breathed life back into the castle, and we passed two footmen with torches near the gate that bordered the castle grounds. They relieved us of our panniers and gave us directions to the Lake Hall, where they said our host had just gone in to dinner, but I heard nothing beyond the word dinner. We hurried inside.

  The Lake Hall would’ve been hard to miss. Doors three times the height of a troll stood propped open with blocks of marble, each carved in the shape of a merman brandishing a trident. Inside, windows along the southernmost wall provided a breathtaking view of the lake and the moonlit mountains beyond. Delicious smells wafted toward us from a table beneath the window: roast waterfowl and sweet boiled pumpkins and stewed tomatoes and a dozen other dishes I couldn’t name. Only three places had been set around the table. Rhys lounged at one end, idly spinning a pearl-handled fork on a plate already streaked with gravy. Selwyn paced in front of the windows. He stopped when we entered. “Ah, good. Your dragon was able to provide a pyre for the poor girl then, Lord Daired?”

  “Akarra is seeing to her, yes,” Alastair said.

  “Excellent.” A door opened at the end of the Hall, admitting a handful of servants carrying chairs, plates, and cutlery. They set them out and disappeared as quickly as they’d come. “Sit, please,” Selwyn said. “You must forgive the lack of formality. Rhys and I had just sat down to dinner when the alarm went up from the lake and I didn’t have time to order places for you. I wasn’t certain when you’d arrive.”

  “Are you expecting someone else, Lord Selwyn?” I asked, taking the seat between Rhys and the empty chair on Selwyn’s right. The plate before it was untouched.

  “My wife will be joining us shortly,” he said. “Now please, eat! Enjoy yourselves. You’ve traveled a long way and I’m sure tonight has been more eventful than you were anticipating.”

  He didn’t need to ask us twice. I spooned out a small mountain of stewed pumpkin onto my plate, realizing as I did how much I missed eating with utensils.

  “I must confess I’m surprised to see you here, Lady Daired,” Rhys said. “I understand you were—are—a nakla.”

  “Hm?” I managed to tear my attention from the food long enough to answer his question. “Oh. Yes.”

  “Is it true what they say about the Battle of North Fields? Did you really wheedle the cure for lindworm venom out of a coven of lamias?”

  I set down my spoon. His question stretched before me like the rest of my life, and I wondered how many more conversations with strangers I’d have to start from the bottom of that pit in Cloven Cairn. “Yes, I did,” I said, willing myself to remain calm.

  “Ye gods. For once the bards are right: you must be the bravest woman in Arle.”

  “No,” I said quietly, and thought of red hair and brandished steel and the tears on her bloodstained cheek, “not the bravest.” I cleared my throat. “Captain Rhys, can you tell me anything about the maid who died?”

  “And you came all this way just to join your husband on a contract?” he continued, ignoring my question.

  “Well, yes.”

  “Pardon my inquisitiveness, but why?”

  Perhaps because I’m tired of people like you equating nakla with helpless. “I’m a healer. I hoped I could help.”

  “Ah. A much worthier motivation.” He raised his glass. “Your good health.”

  “Thank you—I’m sorry, worthier than what?”

  “You haven’t heard what they say of Lady Selwyn?”

  I shook my head.

  “Well, well! If that’s the case, I won’t spoil the surprise. You’ll see soon enough,” he said, and smiled.

  It was hardly more than an upward tilt of the corner of his mouth, but it brought a cunning light into his eyes that I couldn’t help but notice. Owin Rhys of the Lake Meera Rangers had the smile of a man who would trust his life to the power of his charm, or failing that, to a quick knife in the dark, no questions asked. I wondered as he turned back to his food how many times he’d been on either side of that hypothetical knife. Faint scars showed beneath his close-cropped hair and across his forehead, some with the ragged edges suggestive of a Tekari’s talons, some much cleaner. A few looked rather new.

  “Captain Rhys, do you know what killed Isolde?” I tried again.

  “The maid? No idea.”

  “Did you know her?”

  “I’d seen her around the market at Morianton once or twice.”

  His dismissive tone hinted that line of inquiry was sure to be cold. I changed tactics. “What do you know about the slain Idar?”

  He shrugged over a mouthful of fish. “No more than the rest of the townsfolk, my lady. Lord Selwyn had the bodies cleaned up before an hour had passed. Couldn’t have them bleeding out on the beaches now, could he?” he added with a wink.

  What is that supposed to mean? I wanted to ask, but at that moment a door opened near the wall of windows and a figure slipped inside. If I’d not been facing Rhys, I would’ve missed it, so quietly did it open, but the motion drew my eye, and seeing the person it admitted, I forgot even my disgust with the captain.

  Growing up with Anjey, I thought myself inured against a certain degree of beauty. I’d thought wrong. Even her portrait had lied. The woman who entere
d the Lake Hall left light and loveliness dancing in her wake. The artist in me fumbled for pencils, charcoals, anything to capture the delicate lines of her face, her expression of sweet melancholy, or the way the candlelight reflected off the waves of her hair, so black it was almost blue, so shiny it looked wet. She came closer and I gave up. If Guildmaster Tornay could not do justice to this woman’s beauty, neither could I.

  Selwyn sprang to his feet. “There you are, my dear! I was beginning to worry.” Alastair stood and bowed. I found myself curtsying as she took the seat next to mine. “Lord and Lady Daired,” Selwyn said, “allow me to introduce my wife, Lady Cordelia Selwyn.”

  She didn’t look at either of us, fixing instead her enormous, unblinking eyes on her husband. “Niall, Mòrag said the child has been found. Is it true?”

  “Yes, but let’s not dwell on that now, my sweet—”

  “She is dead?”

  “Yes.”

  “The merfolk pushed her body ashore near Morianton,” Rhys offered. It earned only a thunderous glare from Selwyn. Lady Cordelia didn’t acknowledge him.

  “I will mourn her.” She lowered her head. The air grew still, as if the room itself waited for its mistress’s permission to breathe again. Her lips moved but no sound came out as she touched four fingers to her forehead, lips, and heart. Then, as if nothing had happened, she raised her head and turned to me with a smile so honest and innocent it would have made all the bards of Arle weep for joy. She laid a hand on mine. Her skin was milk-white and cool to the touch. “We did not expect you.”

  “I’m sorry, Lady Selwyn, I hoped you—”

  “You are most welcome.”

  “Ahem.”

  I jumped in my chair. The old woman from the portrait hall had appeared silently behind us. She set a covered plate in front of Cordelia and scowled at the sight of her lady’s hand on mine. Cordelia withdrew it.

  “Will my lady be requiring anything else?” the woman asked, her tone suited more to a governess chiding an unruly pupil than a servant asking leave of their mistress.

  “No, Mòrag.”

  “Very good, my lady.” She uncovered the plate and left as silently as she’d come.