Of Dragon Warrens and Other Traps

by Shannon McGee

  I could do none of that when I could not focus. Upset with her though I was, Aella had taught me a way to make the buzzing stop. I needed to do something. Preferably something physical.

  If I knew the layout of the city better, I’d have gone for a walk, but I didn’t trust myself not to get lost, and I didn’t want to chance running into her ladyship. I wasn’t a fool. I knew what set she belonged to. At least, I thought I did. I wasn’t interested in having my suspicions confirmed.

  Instead, I collected my things and went to the bathing room. Blessedly, besides a servant who was wiping the walls down and gathering errant used towels and wash cloths from the floor, the room was empty.

  Without preamble this time, I stripped and entered the pool. It was not so soothing as the first time. Immediately I was struck by the realization that the fizz I had felt in the water wasn’t just from the heat—I had been feeling the magic. How I could have missed that before?

  Sitting still didn’t feel right. I tried it at first, thinking perhaps I didn’t need to do deal with this the way Aella had taught me. I tried to breath mindfully, as Nai used to do. It was no good. My nerves were pinging around inside of me too hard to be ignored. That was just as well. I didn’t really want to be sitting still anyway.

  The floor sloped in the pool, so the water was deep enough at the center and I could swim without feeling too silly. I began to do laps. It felt good to move. My body was strong and weightless, and I relished the feeling of my arms slicing through the water, my legs chopping behind me. The more I swam, the more the magic within me receded into a vague hum. Absently I wished that there was a training yard that I could have practiced in, because this was working, and it wasn’t likely that the pool would always be this empty.

  After the fourth lap, I had the rhythm and space down, and I let my eyes shut. Nai and I used to swim in the shallow parts of the river when the summer got hot enough. Every year, far too early in the spring, she would beg me to go swimming, and I would complain that it would be too cold. She would call me a wimpling, and sometimes I’d push her in. She would grab me as she fell so I got pulled in too, or she’d splash me from within the water. We’d swim until our teeth were chattering and then lay on the shore until the sun had dried us, talking about everything. We’d stay totally still, trying to draw in as much of the weak sunlight as possible.

  I could still smell the hard scent of the river water and the richness of the sandy shore. That place was so different from the overwhelmingly humid room I was in now, with its lemon smell and shadowy sandstone walls.

  I stopped abruptly, and the current I had created rushed past me. Gods, I missed home. I missed my best friend. I wished I could talk to her. She’d have laughed and made what was happening into a grand adventure, not a nightmare. I missed my mother, who would have held me and told me everything would be all right. I missed my father, who would have reassured me that things like this happened all the time and just needed to be dealt with. I even missed my brother, who would have told me all about the history of magic until it wasn’t scary anymore.

  Moving into the corner of the pool, I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes, willing myself to breathe evenly. My throat felt thick and tight. I felt so lost. I wanted home, with its icy mountain winds and the sheep, and my pony. I wanted home, where everything was simple and laid out in front of me.

  “Taryn…”

  Startled, I looked up at Aedith. She was standing a few feet back, near the door. I scrubbed at my cheeks for what little good it did. “How did you know I would be here?”

  She raised a brow. “A serving woman told me that one of my mercenaries was making a mess, sloshing around in the bathing pool.”

  Surprised, I looked around. She was right. My kicking had caused the water to splash up over the sides of the pool. The whole of the surrounding floor was covered in great glistening puddles. When I had looked back to Aedith, ready to apologize, she had walked over and was sitting next to me. I winced as she let her legs dangle in the pool.

  “Your breeches…” I said uselessly.

  “They will dry. Come here.”

  To my abject shock, I saw she was holding out her arms. I was too tired to resist. I curled against her legs and let her stroke my back as the sobs came, hard and heavy. Eventually, I wasn’t sure after how long, I ran out of tears.

  Snuffling, I leaned back. “I’m sorry. It all came rushing back, and it just… I’m just…” Weak. I’m weak and silly, and maybe that’s why she didn’t tell me about the magic. Maybe now she’s sorry she took me on.

  “I know,” she said, and the kindness in her voice caused me to look up in surprise. “You have this new responsibility that you never asked for. You can’t go home. You can’t rely on the people you thought you could. The people you’re left with are strangers who fight and kill for a living. You don’t know if you’ll ever feel normal again.”

  Mutely, I nodded.

  “I felt the same way when I found out I was pregnant, and then again when I left Aella’s father. I was so angry. Both times. I wept and I raged. I hadn’t asked for the gods to give me such a responsibility. I had my own plans. I just wanted a gods’ cursed break. I felt like a leaf swept along by a storm—helpless. Now, I think we can both agree that’s not true.” She smiled down at me. “Neither are you.”

  “It’s all so much,” I whispered. I couldn’t imagine Aedith ever feeling helpless. She was probably the strongest person I had ever met. My throat was rough from crying. “It’s all so much to learn and deal with. I don’t think I’ll ever get my head above water. I thought when I became a mercenary I’d be done with feeling that way.”

  “I don’t think life ever really stops surprising you. You think—oh, now that I’m older, a mother, a mercenary, I’ll be able to handle anything. Then something happens, and you’re set on your rump once more.” Aedith chuckled grimly. “Leastwise, that’s how it has been for me.”

  “That’s not exactly comforting,” I pointed out. “I don’t even know if I can get off of the ground this first time.”

  “You will. We will help you.”

  I didn’t even know if I could trust her, but I couldn’t say that when she was being so kind. “I am grateful to you, I just wish,” I tugged at a braid, “and I know this sounds silly, but I wish I could talk to my best friend.” I stared down at my fingers, which had begun to shrivel.

  She arched her eyebrow at me. “Doesn’t sound silly to me. That’s what I did when I needed help. It would be well within Ito’s abilities to connect the two of you.”

  “But I can’t!” I exclaimed. “If I talk to Nai, then my bad luck will bleed into her. Everybody knows that. I couldn’t do that to her.”

  “You didn’t mind bringing your luck along with us,” she said mildly. “And we’ve done pretty all right.”

  “You’re all warriors. You’re prepared for the risk!”

  “Don’t you think she might want to take that risk?”

  Vehemently I shook my head. “I couldn’t ask her to. It would be wrong.”

  Aedith looked thoughtful for a moment, then she stood without preamble. “I’m going to go talk to Ito. Come and see me when you are through here. There’s much that needs sorted out.”

  “Yes ma’am, but—”

  There was no stopping the commander when she got that look on her face. It looked a lot like the face Aella made often, like when she had been determined to prove that she could stand on her horse as it was moving at a trot.

  By the time I had hoisted myself out of the pool, Aedith was already squelching out the door, leaving a trail of water in her wake. As I hurried to dress and follow her, I heard a distant cry of distress, as a maid moaned something about “barbarian mercenaries.” If I’d been in a better mood that might have made me laugh.

  When I had dressed, I made my way slowly toward Aedith’s chambers. Ito was in the same hallway, so if she was in his room I could wait outside for her. It turned out I didn’t need to.
Through Aedith’s door, I could hear several people talking, sometimes all at once.

  There was Belinda’s honey-sweet voice flowing along next to Ito’s, and Aedith, punctuating with her alto staccato. And a fourth voice that I did not recognize. I reached for the door to knock, but my fist froze an inch away from the door. I did know that voice. She hadn’t… had she?

  “You think I don’t know that?” A beat. “Well, where is she?” Nai’s familiar voice sounded like it was coming from far away, but the demanding tone was all too familiar.

  The murmured replies were too indistinct for me to understand. “Aedith?” I hissed through the door. The voices stopped. “Aedith, please?” As the door opened, I stepped to the side so I couldn’t be viewed from within the room. At my meaningful look, Aedith shut the door softly behind her. Her legs were dry. She must have changed, or perhaps Ito had magicked them.

  She held up a hand to forestall my outrage. “You could not ask it of her. It was well within my abilities to do so.”

  “But I told you—” I growled, before an outraged Nai sounded through the thick wooden door.

  “Taryn, shepherd’s daughter and mercenary extraordinaire, you get your tail in here or by the gods I will ride until I find you in whatever pile of sand you’ve got yourself set up in, and I will tan it!”

  Nonplussed, I blinked at my commander, who was smirking. “I thought I liked her,” she said. “Come on, young one.”

  I trailed after her, hidden largely by the bulk of her frame. First, I saw Belinda, who waved at me with a conscious smile, then Ito, who was perched on Aedith’s bed, his eyes shut. I could feel that he was working magic. It flowed from him in pale green ribbons to drape over the mirror that hung on the wall above the bedside table.

  Despite the fact that no one stood in front of it, that mirror was not empty. It held Nai, from the top of her head to her shoulders. She gasped when she saw me, and I clapped my hands over my mouth, shock making my knees wobble. It was really her. Her laughing hazel eyes and the natural wicked curve of her lips were both familiar and strange after all these months apart. Her dark hair was longer and drawn into a high ponytail. She must have been doing some sort of work earlier, I realized dimly. She only wore it up out of necessity.

  Ito opened his eyes, and with a deep breath, he rose. “We will give you ladies the room.”

  Only when the door had shut behind him and the two women did I dare to speak. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “I told my commander—I told Aedith that my luck would bleed into yours, and that I might contaminate you if I reached out to you, even through scrying.”

  Nai actually rolled her eyes. “Don’t be stupid. First of all, you didn’t reach out to me, she did. Secondly, she asked me if I wanted to speak to you, and she told me she’d understand if I didn’t. I said I didn’t give five turns beneath the dirt what superstitions said. You’re not Michael, and your luck isn’t his. I’m just so happy to see you.”

  “I’m happy to see you too. How have you been?” Tentatively, I came closer to sit on the bed.

  “How have I been? I’ve been kneading dough and on a leash about this long.” She held her hands a few inches apart. “Forget about me. Look at you! You’re as red as a lobster at the winter festival, and don’t think I didn’t notice that you’re in breeches. Do you wear those all of the time?”

  I blushed. “Yeah. I do. It makes riding and training simpler.”

  “Training!” she crowed. “So, you really have become a mercenary? You didn’t go to your mother’s family? Or keep to looking after their horses?”

  “No, I—” Pride swelled within me as I spoke, and I leaned in, “I actually saw a dragon yesterday. We were sent into the sewers to clean out a drake warren.”

  Nai’s eyes were as wide as serving platters. “Gods, Taryn—what took you so long to scry me? You could have at least written! You’ve no idea how worried your parents were when you never sent word, even through someone else.”

  That thought sobered me. Nai wasn’t from Nophgrin. A part of me had always retained hope that I’d be able to speak with her. My parents were mountain folk, born and raised. They were firm believers in the fire’s justice. They had helped me to escape, but I knew that they would not speak to me now. No matter what Nai said about me being separate from Michael, it would be wrong.

  “How are my parents?”

  She rubbed her neck, looking away guiltily. From what I could tell from the dim light, she was in her own bedroom. I wondered if she had any new tapestries. “They’re all right. They had a bit of a rough patch after you left. People swore they wouldn’t buy wool from them—idiots. As though it was their fault. And where else were they going to get it? It’s all mostly calmed down now. My parents and I go over there a lot. Sometimes I help with your—with their herd.”

  “Thanks, Nai,” I whispered. “It’s good to know you all are looking out for them.” I was petting my braid. I forced my hand down to my lap. “Will you tell them that I’m all right?”

  “Yeah, of course. But… there’s something else. I just have to ask.”

  “What is it?”

  “Have you…This is going to sound too strange. Have you seen Benjamin?”

  “Benjamin?” Whatever I had been expecting her to ask, it was not this.

  “Yeah.” She scratched her noise, looking embarrassed. “I’m sorry to even bring it up, but he and Martin and—”

  “And Corey,” I supplied.

  “Right!” she agreed, looking relieved. “So, they did end up finding you. Corey and Martin said they did, but they also said you robbed them? I thought that couldn’t have been right.”

  It was my turn to feel a little shame. “No, we did take their supplies. They attacked Aella and me a few weeks after we left Nophgrin. It was the best way to assure that they went home.”

  “That makes a little more sense than how Corey told it. He made it sound like you lot saw them and attacked them unprovoked.”

  I shook my head, remembering how scary that run-in had been. “Not hardly. They wanted to bring me home to burn me. I asked Aedith to cut them a break, because… well, I understood why Benjamin was so angry.”

  “And you didn’t see Benjamin again?”

  I thought about it. “No. I’m sorry.”

  “Ok, are you sure? Because, that’s the thing. Benjamin didn’t return with the rest of them.”

  I gaped at her. “What do you mean?”

  “Martin and Corey both came back fine enough, if a little worse for wear, and they had quite a story to tell about how you had gone savage. Benjamin though, he didn’t come back with them. It’s part of why your parents have had an even rougher time. The boys said that Benjamin sent them on ahead. He told them he was going to make one more go at bringing you to justice. We sent out messengers to the surrounding cities looking for him but…” she trailed off with a shrug.

  “I never saw Benjamin again after that day,” I said, my head swimming with the news. “I’m sorry. I wish I could help more, but I just don’t know.”

  She nodded. “I sort of figured you wouldn’t know anything. It’s a big world. Anything could have happened to him, alone and without supplies.”

  Guilt cut sharply through me. She was right. With no supplies or weapons, he could have been caught by an early winter storm, been attacked by a gryphon, or even attacked by normal robbers. Benjamin. That stupid man. Why hadn’t he returned to Nophgrin with the rest of them? Had he truly let his pride deprive Beth of another father?

  “I’m sorry,” I muttered again. “I didn’t know. I really thought that he had gone home.”

  “You’re not responsible for what he did. I only wanted to check, for Beth’s sake, to see if I could get any news on him. Truly Taryn, I can see you’re fixing to dwell on this. Don’t. He may yet come home.”

  “But—”

  “No. You aren’t responsible for the choice he made. I can understand why he made the first attempt, but when that failed, he could have
—should have—come home with the boys. He was responsible for them, and he was responsible for his wife and daughter.”

  I nodded slowly. I actually agreed. If I was honest, it made me angry that we had let him go so easily. If we had taken him to a local town for their guard to deal with, at least his family would know where he was, and my parents wouldn’t have had more blame cast their way.

  “Now,” Nai said, probingly, “there’s something you aren’t telling me. Aedith said you needed me now more than ever. After everything you’ve been through…what’s happened now?”

  Mind still partly on Benjamin, I held up a finger so she would wait a moment while I checked out the door. None of the other three were there. I guessed they were in Ito’s room, waiting for me to finish.

  I inhaled and exhaled gustily, then I met her eyes. Best to spit it out. “Nai, I have magic.”

  Her mouth popped open in an o and she gaped at me a moment. Then, “How?”

  “Michael,” I said, curling my lip on the name. “Something he did before we found him out. It was supposed to make me an extra juicy sacrifice for the ritual he was performing, but he messed it up.”

  “Gods,” she settled back against the wall her bed sat against, looking as flummoxed as I felt.

  “Yes, I’d like to have a talk with them,” I said dryly. “But there’s more.”

  She leaned forward, eyes intent. “Say on.”

  “I found out today, but I’ve an inkling that at least the mages and a few others have known this whole time. One of our mages was supposed to have drawn it out of me when we confronted Michael, but clearly it didn’t work. Somehow, and I don’t know how, I didn’t realize that until today.”

  “How could you not realize a thing like that?” She furrowed her brows at me in confusion.

  “I don’t know. Not long after I left Nophgrin it all faded. The fight, the magic—everything. At the time I thought it was the shock, and I didn’t want to stir up the memories anyway, so I let myself forget.”