Dragon Assassin

by Piers Anthony

  “Never!” she flared. “You’re an ass and a scoundrel to even think it! She was always the perfect child and the perfect young woman, and she adored the king. Now get out of here before I lose my temper.”

  Her attitude was starting to get to me. I reacted as I tend to, with similar ire. “Not until my job here is done. I think you know something.”

  “You accuse me?” she demanded, furious.

  “No. I simply want to know what you know, so I can do my job. What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Nothing.” She turned to go.

  I stepped quickly to cut her off. I stared her hard in the face, assuming my best interrogative manner. “Tell me.”

  Her mouth opened in the beginning of a snarl. Then it froze. Then it transmuted to wonder. Then something else. “Gods of Hell!” she swore softly.

  “What?” I asked, annoyed.

  “My Lord! You’ve got it!”

  “Got what?”

  “You’re royal!”

  I remembered Dubi’s narration of my father’s origin. “By a bastard route, maybe. But that’s not relevant to this investigation.”

  “You’re in line to be king! Oh my lord, I apologize for doubting you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Matron recovered some of her equilibrium. “You don’t know, do you!”

  “You are being clear as mud.”

  “The royals—they all have magic. Mostly subtle, but devastatingly effective when they choose to use it. The princess can reduce a man to jelly by kissing him. Your power is similar, only it’s in your eyes. You have the love stare.”

  “The what?”

  “You can look into a woman’s eyes and seduce her. You must have had your sudden conquests, back where you came from. That’s your magic.”

  I thought about the cheating wives I had tailed, and wound up cheating with myself. It had seemed natural at the time, but now I wondered: had I unconsciously compelled them with my stare? Magic did work on Earth, when brought there, as I had seen. That would explain a lot. She was probably right about me. “I didn’t know,” I said somewhat lamely.

  “You thought it was your personal charm? You’re charming as an angry scorpion! But you’ve got the power. I’d get into bed with you now, if you asked.” She shuddered. “Please don’t ask.”

  “I—won’t ask,” I said. “I apologize for using my—my power on you. I thought I was interrogating you.” As I had interrogated women in the past. When they got really friendly I had supposed that maybe they were trying to distract me from awkward questions. Now I realized that it was more than that.

  “Don’t let the princess kiss you,” she said. “That’s what I wasn’t telling you before.” She didn’t realize that I already knew that detail before I talked with her. “But be fair: don’t compel her with your gaze. Keep it muted. Then maybe the two of you can work together to find the assassin.” It was obvious that she no longer questioned my legitimacy.

  “Fair enough,” I said. I had a lot to process.

  I left her and made my way down to the ground floor, where Dubi was waiting to intercept me. “You learned something!” he said, seeing my face.

  “I learned something,” I agreed. “But not what I expected.”

  Chapter Seven

  I next asked to see the princess.

  Dubi obliged, summoning her magically. I waited in what Dubi called the Dragon Room. Tapestries of the creatures hung from the walls, many of them depicting a beautiful creature flying high above the ground. This creature did not look like Fiera. Bigger, more fierce. More images of dragons were in the many of the room’s stained glass windows. The Dragon Room indeed.

  The princess came in a moment later as I was gazing up at another such tapestry. This one depicted a massive beast flying low over a castle, and belching a long plume of fire.

  The princess came to me, her eyes cast down, her hands folded in front of her. I said, “Thank you for coming.”

  “Dubi asked me to cooperate with you.”

  “I’m here to help,” I said. “To the best of my abilities.”

  “And what are your abilities?” She continued looking down.

  “Finding bad guys.”

  “You are an investigator, I’m told.”

  “It’s a living,” I said.

  “Investigating crimes is what you do for a living?”

  “Not always crimes,” I said. “Sometimes I’m hired to gather information for my clients.”

  “I see,” she said, and stepped over to me, and gazed up at the tapestry. “You snoop for a living.”

  “I’m a helluva good snoop.”

  “So you say,” she said, and I sensed she was being playful. “Why have you summoned me, Sir Roan?”

  “I have questions for you.”

  She turned her head to look at me, but I shifted my gaze lower, to her slender neck, her bared shoulders, to the way her embroidered blouse fit her snugly.

  “So ask them?” she said.

  Admittedly, I found myself distracted by the curves of her body; in particular, her rounded chest. I had not realized that the beautiful princess also possessed a beautiful body.

  I swallowed and reminded myself that she was, in fact, my adopted aunt, even though I knew that was a stretch. After all, I had no idea that I had another family in the Realm. And, perhaps more importantly, she wasn’t blood related.

  She’s still your dad’s stepsister, I thought.

  That was, of course, assuming that I hadn’t lost my mind completely, which I suspected I had. Or, more likely, in the middle of the world’s most vivid dream.

  “How old were you when you were adopted by the king?”

  “I was three and a half.”

  “Do you have any memory of your parents?”

  “I only have a memory of a great fire and screaming and weeping, and, finally, the smell of burned flesh. It is, in fact, my first memory.”

  Jesus, I thought. I nearly asked Fiera to verify her claim for me, until I remembered the dragon was loyal to the princess first and foremost.

  True, came Fiera’s thought.

  And then it occurred to me that Fiera had, undoubtedly, reported to the princess on the validity of my own thoughts and intentions.

  Indeed, Sir Roan. She is aware that you find her highly desirable, and that you have a newfound awareness on your personal magic. I have warned her to avert her eyes from yours.

  But she just looked at me—

  I warned her, true, but she wanted to see for herself. I remind you again, human, to treat my mistress with respect. Any manipulation on your part will end tragically for you.

  Jesus, I thought.

  I doubt your deity will intervene. The princess also knows that your father was the bastard child of the king, her adopted father. She is aware of your internal struggle.

  Is anything private? I asked, exasperated.

  Not between me and the princess, human.

  Enough. I decided to close my thoughts for the moment. I needed to know my thoughts were safe—and all my own.

  “What’s your name?” I asked, realizing I’d only been calling her “the princess.”

  “Rose,” she said. She’d gone back to gazing up at the tapestry.

  “Princess Rose,” I said. “Very beautiful.”

  “Thank you, Sir Roan.”

  I swallowed. Her voice had a musical lilt to it. I remembered Dubi’s own voice back before he’d used the translation spell. He had sounded as if he were singing. I detected some of that now in the princess’s voice.

  So beautiful, I thought.

  “Where did you live prior to being adopted by the king?”

  “An orphanage. It was terrible.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, and couldn’t imagine the conditions of a medieval-type of orphanage.

  I saw her nod. She reached out and touched the frayed hem of the tapestry. She had long and slender fingers. She wore a silver ring on her thumb..
.a ring with a carved image of a dragon.

  “It wasn’t so bad. A man came to visit me often. He was kind to me.”

  Bingo, I thought. “What else do you remember about him?”

  “He taught me magic, and would often sit with me for long periods teaching me various illusions.”

  I was about to ask what kind of illusions, when a flame appeared before my eyes. It danced briefly, then disappeared in a puff of smoke.

  She giggled shyly next to me and bumped me with her hip, which sent a shiver of pleasure through me. She said, “That was my first trick.”

  “So you are a witch, too?” I asked.

  “Potentially, but that is not the path I have found myself on. I am first a royal.”

  “I see. Do you have any other memories of this man? What is his name?”

  “He never told me his name. I called him uncle.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “A long beard. Piercing blue eyes. A smile always on his lips. He was so kind to me.”

  “Have you ever seen him again?”

  She released the hem of the tapestry and sighed deeply. “Yes and no.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I dream of him often.”

  “Tell me about your dreams.”

  “He comes to me often and apologizes. Always apologizing.”

  “For what?”

  “I do not know.”

  “You miss him,” I said. It wasn’t a question. I heard it in her voice.

  “Often.”

  “Do you have any other memories of him?”

  “Only good memories. Kind memories.”

  “And that was when the king came for you?”

  “Yes.”

  I was tempted to put my arm around her and console her, as I felt her sadness. But I didn’t know what was acceptable protocol when dealing with a royal. More important, I didn’t want an instant tan from Fiera.

  Instead, I pointed to the tapestry, and the image of the dragon setting fire to a castle. “Some dragons are cruel?”

  She giggled. “Perhaps, but this is the Dragon King.”

  I blinked. “Dragon King?”

  “The Dragon King is a bedtime story we tell our kids here in the Realm, although many believe it is more than a bedtime story.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Well, according to our legends, the Dragon King will descend upon high—a mountain some believe—and lay waste to our enemies. It is said that he will come when the land most needs him. There are some who hold out hope for him, especially now.”

  “And do you, too?” I asked. “Hold out hope?”

  She looked away. “Yes.”

  “Well, that’s quite a bedtime story indeed,” I said, and pointed to the burning castle. “And this here...”

  “Would be our enemy.”

  I nodded, and looked at her—but not into her eyes. No, not yet. And perhaps never again. Instead, I focused on her full lips, especially the fatter lower lip that was presently gleaming wet. I swallowed.

  “Where were you on the night of your father’s assassination?”

  “Am I a suspect, Sir Roan?”

  “I don’t want you to be—but everyone, at this point, is a suspect.”

  Those lips smiled. Those magically delicious lips. I suddenly wanted her to kiss me, badly. I wanted to feel those lips on my own. I could do it, too. I needed only to look into her—

  Down boy, I thought. Today is not a good day to die.

  She said, “I was asleep in my bedroom.”

  “Was, ah, anyone with you?”

  “Do I have an alibi, you mean?”

  “Er, yes.”

  “And you ask if I was with, perhaps, a lover?”

  I felt myself blushing mightily. Not common for me. As an investigator, I have asked far more intimate questions. But here, now, with a beautiful princess, I felt my face burning with embarrassment.

  What’s come over you? I asked myself. “Yes, I suppose,” I managed to say.

  Her lips curled up mischievously. “No, Sir Roan, Master Investigator. I was alone. I am, of course, a virgin.”

  The embarrassment turned into sweats, and I might as well have been a silly school boy with his first crush. ‘I, um, see...” My voice trailed off.

  She giggled some more. “You are cute, Sir Roan. Never have I seen a man blush so brightly.”

  “I, um, maybe I’m coming down with something.”

  “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

  I needed to change the subject before I completely fell apart here. “Do you recall anything suspicious on the day of your father’s assassination?”

  “Suspicious how?”

  “Anything out of the norm? Anything that struck you as odd?”

  “No...except—” She stopped.

  “Except what?”

  “It’s really nothing.”

  “Please, it might be important.”

  “It was just a dream.”

  “A dream?”

  She nodded. “Just a silly dream I had the night before his death.”

  “Did you mention the dream to Dubi? To anyone?”

  “No, of course not. It was just a silly dream.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “I dreamed of a fleeing figure.”

  “Who was he?”

  “I do not know.”

  “Where was he fleeing to?”

  She took my hand and led me across the room and pushed open a window. She pointed beyond the castle. Below, a dense forest surrounded the castle and spread as far as the eye could see.

  “Into the forest?” I asked.

  She shook her head, and now I followed her pointing finger to what appeared to be a distant, conical mountain that belched steam. It was, by all appearances, an active volcano. “He fled to the mountain?” I asked.

  “The Mountain of Fire, yes.”

  “Was the fleeing figure your father’s assassin?”

  “I do not know.”

  I stared at the smoking, distant mountain. “Does anyone live there?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Let me guess,” I said. “Lord Mephisto.”

  “Why, Sir Roan, you are an ace detective.”

  “When was your father killed?”

  “Two nights ago.”

  “How long is the journey to the Mountain of Fire?”

  “Four or five days on horseback—surely, you aren’t giving much weight to my dream, Sir Roan.”

  I was, admittedly, torn. Any good investigator wouldn’t give any consideration to a dream. Then again, most detectives didn’t find themselves magically transplanted into a magical land.

  Having studied the scene of the crime, I was certain that only an archer who was magically held aloft could have committed the crime. A lone archer, no doubt. The bolt held some evidence of being magically tampered with, as well. So, was there perhaps two of them? Wizard and assassin? Or were they one and the same? Or had the wizard stayed behind, while the assassin fled?

  I didn’t know, but I was beginning to think that there might be something to Princess Rose’s dream. A dream she’d never divulged until now. In this business, I’ve learned to trust my hunches. And my hunch told me now to follow-up on the princess’s dream.

  Fiera, I thought, opening up my thoughts once again. Find me Dubi.

  Found him. He’s on the way.

  A moment later, the old wizard stepped into the Dragon Room, and I told them my plan.

  Chapter Eight

  “There are two stages of my plan, such as it is,” I told them. “First we four go to the forest nearest the turret where the king was killed, because there is likely to be evidence of someone recently there. A bowman or a mage, or both. Ground support. That evidence will implicate Lord Mephisto. Then I will go see Lord Mephisto for a candid dialogue.”

  Princess and Wizard both stared at me as if I had lost what little wit I had. “Surely you jest,” Dubi said after a moment.

&
nbsp; “Not at all,” I assured them.

  What a ploy! Fiera thought. I had forgotten to shield my mind. I hastily remedied that. You can come too, I thought to her. You’re one of the four.

  “How can you know what we’ll find, before we check?” Rose asked.

  “And if Lord Mephisto is guilty, it would be absolute folly to place yourself in his hands with any such charge,” added Dubi.

  I eyed them both. “You hired me for a job. Are you going to let me do it?”

  Rose and Dubi exchanged a weary glance. “We can at least check the forest,” the princess said.

  “But we had best summon the guards,” Dubi said.

  “No. Too many people will likely mess up the evidence. Just us.”

  Dubi winced, but let it be. “At least we’ll have Fiera.”

  More than sufficient, the dragon thought smugly.

  We went to the forest. It was larger from the ground than it had looked from above. The trees reached up in stately columns, with branches spreading out to intercept most of the sunlight before it had a chance to warm the forest floor. There were only a few straggling bushes, most of them starved out by the gloom. Even so, it was not safe for Fiera to fully spread her wings. She would be ground-bound here.

  “What are we looking for?” Dubi asked.

  “Scuff marks,” I said. “Dropped items. Anything that someone might have inadvertently lost in the darkness.”

  “There’s a lot of ground to cover,” Rose said. “Maybe we should separate and each of us check sections.”

  “No,” Dubi said immediately. “Separation in the field is dangerous.”

  “Then make two parties,” Rose said. “I will go with Roan. You go with Fiera.”

  Dubi glanced at the dragon, who made a rippling shrug, going along with it. That was interesting, as she was bound to the princess. We separated, moving left and right along the edge of the forest.

  Soon we were out of sight of the other two. “Exactly why are we here?” Rose asked me, stepping enticingly close.

  “Well, it’s called crime scene investigation. Sometimes the smallest things can have enormous significance.”

  “That’s interesting,” she said. Her lovely face was only inches from mine.

  “But we have to examine the ground and the tree trunks,” I said. “Not each other.”