Tessa was no where near ready.
Trumpets blared a fanfare. The crimson-clad man strutted forward, peered down his rather long nose, and made his demands in a loud voice. “Speak Guardsman. Who have you there? What manner of miscreants have you brought for King Mythorne the Great’s justice?
“Speak now, Sir guard, and Mythorne the Wise will listen and pass judgment that is both just and wise.”
The guardsman who had captured them stepped forward, went down on one knee, and brought his closed fist to his chest. Tessa thought it was probably a gesture of fealty and obedience to the king—not that she really cared. She was far more interested in what the man was accusing them of.
“A foreign wizard, Sire, and her servant. We caught them sneaking around the Dragon tunnel. Looked like the mage was breaking your law. She’s been inside. We caught her coming out.
“Ya want us to feed them to the magecats now or later?”
Fright and dire need had a goodly part in the process, she was sure, but whatever the reasons, Tessa found her voice and what had to pass as a plan. Bringing every bit of her princess arrogance and her scraps of dragon knowledge into play, she confronted the king. And, she neither knelt or made any other gesture of courtesy or respect. She said, pitching her voice low but meant to be heard, “If you do, King Mythorne, you’ll never find another wizard powerful enough to rid yourself of the fiery beast that plagues your land.”
The guard started to say something, but Tessa had the floor and she intended to keep it.
“It is common knowledge,” she said, looking only at the king, “that you have been calling mages in to help you in this task. Well, I have come in answer to your call. And now, you need call no more. Only I know her name. Only I can banish her for eternity.”
Drawing herself up to her full height, she said, making sure her voice rang through the assembly like a great bell. “I am the most powerful wizard in the world. And I, and only I, can send her forth to her own land, bespell her into never returning to your fair shores.”
That knowing a dragon’s name bestowed power to the knower was probably as untrue as the rest of the balderdash whispered about concerning dragons. But, true or not, it was believed, and repeated often with every assurance of it being fact, that that was exactly what knowing a dragon’s true name did. At least, that’s what Tessa vaguely remembered hearing bandied about among the wizards and lesser folk at Outer Isles Court—when such a thing still existed.
It was a pretty slender foundation for a grand plan, but she hoped the king held the same belief, and with allowing herself a fraction of relaxation, waited for him to speak.
Before the king could answer, one of the court wizards, a tall man with a red nose, close-set eyes, and a voice that rasped across her already frayed nerves, leaped into the fray.
“You lie, you foreign dog. I have searched every record extant. The dragon is nameless. You have no power over her.
“As chief wizard in his majesty’s court, I call challenge and demand satisfaction.”
The mantle of his absolute power had touched the king, left him sunken-eyed, short of breath, and cold, with most human feelings wrung from his gaunt frame. He looked at Tessa, measured her with an unknown measure, and evidently came to his own conclusions. Conclusions that did not bode well for her future health—or, as far as that went, her future, period.
Wheezing and coughing, the king asked, “Duel arcane? To the death?”
The wizard nodded and his voice was full of distant thunder when he bowed slightly and said, “To the death.”
Tessa swallowed hard, tried to maintain her calm—a nearly impossible task under trying circumstances. Ideas scurrying through her mind like a herd of terrified mice, she finally came up with what would have to fill the moment, give her time to devise a plan both real and lasting.
Hiding her shaking hands in the full sleeves of the wizard robe, Tessa took a deep breath, swallowed again, and then bowed, not too deeply, to the king before she embarked on her plan—feeble as it was.
Calling all her princess arrogance into her voice, she said, “My particular school of wizardry does not duel to the death, and even if it were allowed, I would never demean myself by dueling with an inferior wizard. It simply isn’t done.
Practically sputtering with outrage the wizard screamed, “Duel or die,” and made some sort of throwing gesture in her general direction.
Smelling enough like rotten cabbage to turn her stomach, the first mage bolt lashed out, wrapped around her, and faded into nothingness. Not that she could actually see it, but Tessa felt it, like thistledown, a breath and a floating, and nothing more.
The immunity to magic that had set her apart, maimed her in her mother’s eyes, was serving her well, keeping her from all harm—as far as wizardry was concerned. And she knew she had to use her advantage, play the role she had chosen as if her life depended on it. It probably did.
Waving her hand in a dismissive gesture, shooing the snarling wizard away as if her were an unwanted gnat, Tessa looked around. She inspected the place as if she were in a position to buy it—if it met her high standards. Her insolence brought a response from the king and the priests, but it wasn’t directed at her.
The were deciding on their own course of action by holding an impromptu conference. They mumbled, gave little darting glances in her direction, and moved closer together to mumble some more.
Tessa ignored them all, or pretended to. She continued her lazy survey of the shadowed courtyard and that surrounded it, waiting with well-concealed fear for whatever was to happen to do so. It didn’t take long.
The voices stopped. The king stepped out of his circle of advisors and asked, “Foreign Wizard, speak you true? Can you, indeed, release my land from the hunger of the dreadful beast?”
Keeping fear out and airy indifference in her voice, she answered a question with a question. “Why would I lie?”
“I know not the answer to that, but you are overly young and a female besides. I would know if you are strong enough to . Show me your power. I must know if you are what you pretend.”
Thinking fast, scrambling through was passed as her brain, she gave the only answer she could find. But she imbued it with every bit of princess arrogance she owned. “Sir King, I will prove myself to the dragon and to no one else.”
Wheezing even more than before, he said, “If that be your answer, so be it.” He sighed and said, “Let the duel continue.”
It wasn’t the outcome Tessa wanted, but she didn’t dare give way to panic. She had to continue on the path she had taken. “If that be your command, Sire, I have no objection to him expending his puny powers needlessly.”
Without bothering to speak further, she turned her back on the king’s tame wizard and continued her survey. The castle was in good repair, and very obviously prepared for and attack from the air. One that involved gouts of fire from an angry dragon’s mouth. There was no wood anywhere visible. The stables, the towers, the storerooms, and all else were roofed with slate. Every single blade of grass was gone from the paved courtyard.
But despite all the preparation, the care that had been taken to forestall an attack, the odor of fear was almost as strong as the stench of magic. And the strongest scent was coming from the king himself. King Mythorne, the King of Summer, positively reeked of fear.
She was wondering why when Luther shouted, “Look out, Prin . ” He grabbed her by the arm, jerked her to one side. Something sizzled through the air. And explosion brought down a clatter of stone. Another mage bolt crashed into the wall of the guardroom, doing some minor damage.
The mage bolts could destroy everything they touched, except Tessa, and she knew it. Pulling free from Luther, and stepping well away, to put him out of harms way, she stood still, made herself a target for the wizard. He threw bolt after stinking bolt. She could see them, in a vague sort of way, but the smell was more than enough to tell her they existed and were getting more numerous as the wizard grew m
ore and more incensed.
Beyond a tickling in her nose, an overpowering urge to sneeze, and a roiling in her empty stomach, she remained untouched by the barrage of dire and arcane power.
The court wizard, on the other hand, was beyond reason, beyond rational behavior. The rise of the full moon, which poured a strong silvery light into the shadowed courtyard, showed him in all his disarray.
Tessa really thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head, but they didn’t. His face got redder and redder. He continued blasting away with his stinking magic, but failing in his quest to do her harm. Finally, his robe drenched with sweat, his mouth contorted with anger, he called up a new weapon, or rather several new weapons. He screamed, “Release the magecats! No lying chit can withstand the power of their claws and fangs.”
Angry and showing it, King Mythorne commanded, “Desist! You idiot! Would you let your overweening pride destroy my entire kingdom?”
If he had ever had any, the wizard had lost what few wits he had, given himself over to his terrible rage, his burning need to destroy Tessa where she stood. He ignored his king’s command, clapped his hands together, and began screaming anew. “The magecats! Release them now!” His face contorted even more, twisted as if he were a madman as he pointed a bony finger at Tessa and screamed, “Kill! Kill her now!”
Some underling released the beasts.
Chaos erupted in the courtyard. Men ran. Men screamed. Thing fell, clattered.
Bent on protecting her from the new danger, Luther leaped to her side, tried to pull Tessa to a place of safety. She jerked free, walked with every appearance of calmness toward the cats.
She didn’t know what fearsome beasts the others saw, but what she saw touched her heart, made her throat ache. The magecats were, to her true seeing, only large Silvafells, ice-white cats with glowing eyes of ruby red. Although she had never before met one, Tessa knew them for what they were: the elusive mountain cats that lived in the far reaches of Winter, her mother’s homeland. The cats reminded Tessa of her mother—and brought new tears to her heart for the mother she had loved and lost.
But there was no time to weep for old sorrows. She had to take care of the worries at hand—and that included the Silvafells. Fell beasts for true, but gentle animals, terribly vulnerable to the magic of human wizards, they shunned mankind as a rule, but magic was a lure they couldn’t resist.
These were enslaved by the wizard’s power, forced to act through the spell that bound them. They had been treated poorly, abused. Their silvery hair was matted, burned in places. They were dirty, probably hungry, and beyond that, they were terrified.
Their terror touched her. Feeling nothing but pity and the need to give comfort to the poor beasts, she walked to one, knelt down, held out her hand. It lifted its head, looked at her without hope, and made a piteous sound, one that begged for aid.
Luther was as terrified as the poor beasts, but not for himself. “No! No!” he yelled. “They’ll tear you apart.”
Ignoring him and the spitting, snarling wizard, Tessa lifted the cat, held it close to her heart, and began murmuring reassurance. “Poor baby. It’s going to be all right. Shhhh. I’ll take care of you.”
It trembled still, but was just starting to relax, when another of the cats, still in the wizard’s thrall, leaped onto Tessa’s shoulder, holding on with needle-sharp claws. Because the magic that drove it couldn’t touch Tessa, it crouched there, offering her no harm beyond that inflicted by its grasping paws. She reached up, rubbed it with one hand, and heard the gasps of horror and disbelief that came from the panicked courtiers and guards.
Then, abruptly, the noise stops. Absolute stillness holds the courtyard. The king breaks it with a harsh command. “Archers.”
Tessa turned her head to watch as he pointed toward the irate wizard and said, “I name Wizard Rill traitor and pronounce his doom. Death.”
He realized his peril. “Your Majesty, I . ” His protest was cut short by a rain of arrows. He fell at the king’s feet. The monarch gave him a scant second’s regard before he turned away to give further orders. Some of which interested Tessa greatly.
“Throw the traitor on the midden. Give Wizard, what was it your man called you? Oh, yes, Prin, wasn’t it?”
It would serve as her new name as well as any. Tessa nodded.
“I thought as much,” he wheezed out. “Give Wizard Prin the traitor’s quarters and cage the magecats. Now.”
He turned with a flare of purple robes. Took two steps, halted, turned back to scowl at Tessa. “We are wise to the greedy ways of wizards, Prin.” He stopped to cough and take in a wheezing breath. “It is true our kingdom has suffered greatly. We would do almost anything to relieve our peoples’ pain. But, know this. The dragon’s need for treasure has sorely depleted my treasury. My subjects stagger under the burden of the tax I’ve had to impose. So, ask what reward you will for this great service, but do not be overweening in your demands.”
Although she knew, from what the Pearl had told the dragon, that King Mythorne planned to cheat the victorious wizard, give him the Outer Isles, a kingdom that no man could use. But her poor plan, hastily conceived and dreadfully incomplete, hadn’t reached the point of what else she should have as a reward. That would have to wait until later, until she could find a moment to complete her own plans, know her own needs.
Lifting her chin, still holding both cats, she stood, returned the king’s gaze for a long moment before she said, “The deed is vast, even for one of my great powers. At the moment, I will need to repair to my chambers, spy out the enemy in my scrying bowl. Then I must have time to meditate, commune with you land, prepare myself for the coming battle. When all is in readiness, I will ask for a just and suitable reward.”
She held the king’s gaze a moment longer and her voice was soft, but firm, when she added, “Rest assured, it will not be small.”
The cat in her arms, stirred, whimpered softly. Before the king could turn away, Tessa made her first demand. “For now, the magecats, all of them, stay with me.”
King Mythorne hesitated, looked at the priests, the other wizards, and finally said, “Those two you hold only. The other three must return to their cages. It is too dangerous to .
“Wizard Prin, you hold guest right in my court. The cats are killers. I cannot allow . ”
Tessa was adamant. “All of them stay with me, in my chamber, uncaged. I have no fear of them doing me harm.”
“So be it,” he said at last. “But on your head lies the guilt if they harm any one of my subjects. And guilt, even for mighty wizards, does not come without dire consequences. Remember that, Wizard Prin.
“You, too, must bear my wrath, feel the sting of my justice.”
Followed by priests, mages, guards, and a horde of hangers-on, the king strode back into the castle proper, leaving Tessa, the five magecats, and Luther to the mercies of the crimson-clad court official.
“Come,” he said, carefully keep his distance from the cats, with several swift backward glances, either to make sure Tessa was following or that the cats weren’t creeping closer to his heels, he led them into the great hall.
But he didn’t even hesitate long enough for them to look it over. Grabbing one of the large candles on a stand by the door, he hurried them up the steep stair that ran up the right wall and disappeared into the floor above. They were scarcely at the top before they heard a door creak open.
The official, sounding breathless and frightened, said, “Wizard Rill’s former quarters. I will send slaves with a repast, to tend to your other needs, but I fear I must . ”
He leaped inside the room, lit one of the candles there, and was back in the hall before Tessa could shape words of thanks or ask any questions.
Licking his lips, fear plain on his face, he backed away from Tessa and the cats, and literally scurried back down the hall before he finished whatever it was he had been going to say.
The sound of his running feet hitting the stone of the hall fl
oor was still fading in the distance when Luther hustled her inside the room and closed the heavy door behind them. He waited until he had lit every candle in the room before he turned to face her. Glaring at her, sounding as if he were in danger of choking to death, he asked, “Are you crazy? What in the name of . Magecats hanging on you like pets? By the Great Egg, what have you done? Don’t you know that no king can afford to allow a mage as powerful as you to . ”
For the split second it took for his meaning to become clear, Tessa stared at him. Then, her mouth dry, she gave voice to her latest fear. “He will have me killed?”
“I don’t know. That, or something worse, as soon as you rid this land of Herself. He’s a frightened man . ”
Tessa couldn’t argue with Luther’s assessment of the king. She had been raised in a palace, knew kings feared power in others, but there was no way she could take back what she had done. Besides that, the poor magecats needed care, needed to be set free. They were in need as much as the dragon and the other princesses. They all needed her. All of which made her own need to come up with a workable plan all the more urgent.
So urgent that she couldn’t stand still, needed to do something, but first she had to address Luther’s fears. “Well, we’d better thing of something quick. If you don’t want to meet my fate, you’d better help me come up with a plan.”
He had no immediate answer, but he stayed well away from her and the magecats.
Pondering all their needs, she wandered around the room—which seemed pleasantly cool after the heat outdoors. The magecats, except the one she still held in her arms, left her for the refuge the curtained bed provided.
The black stone walls were bare of ornament. The window opening narrow and deep—more arrow slits than actual windows. The floor was bare stone. There was a table, the bed, and two chests, which seemed to fill the small chamber too full.
The Dragon of Summer Page 5