The Cracked Slipper

by Stephanie Alexander

  Thromba might feign annoyance at Eleanor’s curiosity, but she could tell he and the other miners respected her for it. They watched with admiration as Eleanor and Teardrop followed Gregory and Vigor on long scouting rides and gave her thoughtful answers to her never-ending stream of questions. They even offered her shots of their preciously horded rock gin. To pass the time she joined them at cards and strikestick, and even though she lost every game they didn’t mind. Their colorful language became as polite as any Godsman’s when they saw her coming. The euphemisms she overheard when they weren’t aware she was listening were enlightening, to say the least.

  One cold night Thromba invited Eleanor and Gregory to join the miners for an outdoor roast. One of the men had killed a passing buck, and the smell of fresh meat permeated the air. She sat in front of Gregory, between his bent knees. He draped a dragon robe over the two of them and wrapped his arms around her. She leaned into him. He kissed her temple and the fuzz on his cheek was pleasantly scratchy. Thromba’s old terrier inched so close to the cooking meat Eleanor feared the dog would singe his hair.

  “What about the dragons?” she asked. “Won’t they smell the meat and…come out?”

  “They rarely come out. We feed ‘em so well there’s no need for it,” said Thromba.

  Eleanor enjoyed the excellent meal, and the men’s stories of mishaps and adventures, rookie miners and grouchy dragons. The drink flowed and a few of the men sang tavern songs. Gregory joined them for the choruses. As the evening wound down a young man Eleanor knew only as Jeb spoke to Thromba.

  “Come, Mattie, give us a song,” he said.

  “No, boy,” said Matt.

  “Yes, please, sir, one of those old ones, that make us think of home.”

  “Why do you want to feel sad? Do you want to make the lady sad?”

  “On the contrary, Mister Thromba, I would love to hear your song,” said Eleanor.

  Thromba shrugged. “All right, then.” He didn’t stand, or even sit up straight. His high, sweet voice belied his rough exterior.

  I left a girl in the south

  Where the Clarity flows

  As soft as the silken

  Gown of my rose

  I come to the north

  To work in this hole

  To buy her a ring

  So she’ll salvage my soul

  It’s dark down below

  But in the dark I can see

  The light in her eyes

  When she looked at me

  Maybe the light

  Is nothing but fire

  Maybe the dragon

  Will come when I tire

  And carry me back

  Where the Clarity flows

  I fear that another

  Has stolen my rose.

  His voice tapered off, and the men watched the flames. Thromba broke the silence. “Ah, there you have it, boys. Another cheerful miners’ tune to end the night.”

  “It was lovely, Matt, thank you.” Eleanor wiped her eyes. She and Gregory excused themselves to retire.

  “It must be lonely for the men, so far from their families,” she said, as they got ready for bed.

  Gregory pulled off his boots. “Oh, I don’t think they dwell on it when they’re sober. They like the pay just fine.”

  “Are they ever allowed a visit home?”

  “We can’t exactly stop the mining so they can go on holiday, Eleanor. Besides, we have a two-year wait list for these jobs. It can’t be that bad.”

  “They don’t have any choices closer to home.”

  “It’s late. I don’t want to discuss this right now.”

  And the conversation ended. Eleanor puttered around the room, waiting for him to fall asleep as he usually did when he’d been drinking. At the sound of his even breathing she slid under the robes. She wasn’t angry. They had been getting along fine, but she couldn’t help but wish Dorian could have heard Thromba’s song. It would have made sense to him.

  CHAPTER 20

  The Most Stubborn, Disobediant, Brave, Exasperating Woman

  “Eleanor, come, wake up. You’ll want to see this.”

  She squinted into Gregory’s face. “What is it?” she grumbled.

  “Don’t you want to see a dragon?”

  “Are they transferring them?” She sat up.

  He grinned and yanked back the covers. “Hurry, fair lady. Dragons wait for no one, not even a Desmarais princess.”

  She jumped out of bed and pulled a long tunic over her head. She bounced around on one foot as she tried to hop into her leggings. “Where are my boots?”

  He threw them to her and she yanked them on. She didn’t bother brushing her hair, just twisted it in a thick knot around itself. She wrapped a robe around her shoulders, grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, and followed Gregory out the door and into the mine yard.

  It looked like all the mine personnel, magic or not, plus half of the soldiers, had assembled in the yard. They held blazing torches in the dim early morning light. The unicorns formed a white wall between the seventh cave and the first. Eleanor waved at Teardrop, who joined the end of the line.

  Gregory elbowed through the crowd and Eleanor ran to keep up. He stopped beside Matt Thromba. Thromba had never led a transfer, and the pressure showed in his nervous hand ringing.

  “You’ll be fine, you have my utmost faith,” said Gregory.

  Thromba exhaled. “Thank you. I’m glad to hear you say it.”

  Gregory took Eleanor’s hand, and they moved behind the line of men and unicorns. Thromba called out, and the men hushed.

  “All right, boys, you know the plan. We have thirty-six dragons to transfer.”

  Thirty-six! thought Eleanor as Thromba went on.

  “…and sixteen males. From cave seven, which will go inactive, to cave one, which has been mined of all Fire-iron and is ready to go active again. Tremor!” he called.

  One of the unicorns broke from the crowd. “We are ready, Thromba.”

  Tremor walked to the entrance of the seventh cave, and called out in the same shrill whinny Vigor had used to summon the wild mares in the marsh. As answering cry came from the bowels of the cave. The orange glow brightened, and Eleanor could feel the temperature rising, as if she were approaching the hot ovens in the kitchen at Eclatant. Two unicorns trotted from the mouth of the cave and whinnied again.

  A different cry answered them. It was a sound like none Eleanor had ever heard. She could not call it a roar, or a snort, or a scream, but it had elements of all of them. Others joined the first, until the very air vibrated. Streams of pebbles slid down the steep valley walls. She grabbed Gregory’s arm as the first dragon emerged.

  It was at least as tall as her father’s house in Maliana, with a dark green hide that sparkled in the glow of the men’s torches. It shrieked and threw back its head, spraying fire into the air. Tremor reared on his hind legs. He whinnied and shook his head. The dragon collapsed on its front legs with a rumbling growl, and crept close to the stallion’s face.

  Eleanor found she saw a resemblance between the two creatures. Both had long, thin faces, although the dragon had three horns and teeth hung over its black lips like giant arrowheads. Long, folded scales sprouted down its neck, in a sort of mane, and tapered off at neatly folded brownish green wings. Its tail, capped with more long scales, swept the ground. Powerful rear legs clenched with its shifting weight, and it clicked the talons on its shorter arms. It stared at Tremor with half-closed orange eyes. She could not hear what, if anything, Tremor said to the dragon, but its growl subsided to a low rumble. It sounded absurdly like a cat’s purr heard through the court caller’s megaphones.

  The dragon stood and lumbered toward the first cave. It passed the other unicorns, slowing every few steps, and they responded with reassuring whinnies. The next dragon appeared, followed by two more of Tremor’s unicorn guides. The first dragon called to the second, who screamed once in return. Both creatures seemed eager to get underground.

  The
transfer continued for nearly an hour without much fanfare. Eleanor thought she must have miscounted when there was a break in the procession.

  “This will be the last one,” said Gregory. “I wonder what’s taking so long.”

  Tremor paced at the mouth of the cave. Dark smoke rolled from under the ground. Tremor sent two of his fellows down below, and when after a few minutes they did not return, Thromba called to him to send two more.

  Without warning, and with an earsplitting scream, and a new dragon burst from the cave. Stubby horns revealed her as a doe.

  “Ho!” Gregory yelled. “Nestlings!”

  Three baby dragons, about the size of saddle horses, squealed and circled their mother’s feet. She screamed and shot fire at the wall of men and unicorns. The men fell back. The unicorns just shut their eyes. As Gregory steered Eleanor toward the cabin she caught a flash of white behind the dragon’s legs.

  Teardrop had somehow been pushed from the line. She was pinned between the raging dragon and the canyon walls. As the dragon backed and reared, her massive tail, all wrathful muscle, swung in a deadly pendulum.

  “Teardrop!” Eleanor screamed.

  Teardrop zigged, looking for a way around the mother dragon. The dragon’s tail came down hard and clipped the mare across the shoulder. Teardrop slammed into the rock wall. She cowered, stunned and heaving.

  “Teardrop!” Eleanor yanked free of Gregory’s grip.

  “Eleanor, stop!”

  She ran past the startled guards and into the chaos.

  “Get back!” Tremor snorted.

  “I won’t!” She yelled to be heard over the dragon. “I’m going to help her.”

  “You can’t, and we must control this situation.”

  “I will, damnit!” She tried to get around the stallion but he stepped in front of her again. “Get out of my way!” she stormed.

  He lowered his head. “If you insist on this foolery at least let me help you.”

  Gregory was shoving past the guards, but she climbed onto Tremor’s back before he could reach her.

  “Eleanor!” Gregory screamed.

  She clung to Tremor’s mane as he raced at the dragon. Her eyelashes stuck together in the blinding heat. Tremor dodged and wheeled as the dragon spit fire. Two other unicorns flanked them.

  Tremor skidded to a stop. Eleanor leapt off and ran to Teardrop.

  “Hurry!” Tremor called.

  Foam dripped from Teardrop’s muzzle as she pressed against the wall. She wasn’t bleeding—her thick hide was nearly impenetrable—but a raised welt marred her shoulder. Her eyes rolled.

  “Teardrop,” Eleanor tried to keep her voice calm over the screams of the dragon as it went after Tremor. “Help me. Take me back to Gregory.”

  Teardrop swung her head at Eleanor’s voice. Her dark eyes came into focus. “Why are you here?” she whispered. “You will be killed.”

  “So you must take me out.”

  Teardrop nodded, and Eleanor grabbed her mane and pulled herself onto the mare’s back. “Go, now,” she called. “I need you to get me past this dragon.”

  Teardrop scraped at the ground with one hoof and pricked her ears. She watched Tremor and his helpers and the mother dragon. She spotted an opening and dove for it. The dragon spun and swung her tail again. Eleanor held on as Teardrop leapt. They barely cleared the spinning spikes.

  They came to a stop past the line of unicorns, and Eleanor’s legs gave out when she slid to the ground. Gregory caught her, cursing and kissing her.

  “Dammit, Eleanor,” he said. “You’re the most stubborn, disobedient, brave, exasperating woman.”

  She sat on the ground with her head between her knees. The magicians bustled around Teardrop. They tried to examine her injury, but she snorted them away. She stood over Eleanor, breathing down the back of her neck.

  Eleanor raised her head as Tremor called a dozen of his fellows into the skirmish. The doe blew fire, but more unicorns pressed in and she backed down. Her children squeaked and smoked around her. Tremor stepped from the line and knelt on one knee. To Eleanor’s amazement one of the nestlings crept out from under its mother’s belly and slunk toward him. The doe hissed a warning. Tremor stood, and gently touched the baby dragon with his horn.

  The doe exhaled a long blast of fire, but this time there was no fight in it. The other baby dragons came forward, and Tremor touched them all before nudging them toward the new cave with his muzzle. Their mother let our several low whistles and followed them.

  Once the doe disappeared under the ground, Thromba ran to Eleanor and Gregory. “Dear HighGod, sire,” he said. “It was a botch-up, and the princess nearly roasted.”

  “No, Thromba,” Gregory said. “We both know you can never tell how the does with nestlings will react. Last year we lost three men to a new mother. Not so bad, really.” He knelt beside Eleanor.

  “Are you angry with me?” she asked.

  “No,” he said. “How can I be angry? But you must be more careful.”

  He helped her stand on her shaky legs. She ran a hand over Teardrop’s withers and the white hide twitched under her fingers. “Does it hurt?” she asked.

  “Some, but we heal quickly.”

  “Princess,” said an airy voice behind her. It was Tremor.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I’m sorry if I made things more complicated.”

  Tremor lowered his head. “I thank you,” he said. “For reminding me of what is important.”

  Six weeks in the North Country is a long time. Eleanor had seen enough to fill several Fests worth of dinner conversation, and she had enjoyed her husband’s company. He was as tender and sober as she had known him, and he continued to impress her with his diligent attention to the mine operations. Their disagreements were mostly around his habit of destroying any semblance of order in their tiny cabin. Eleanor and Gregory had never occupied the same space for more than a night, and never without the assistance of a troop of servants dedicated to preserving order around the chaotic prince.

  Eleanor could hardly blame him. He had never needed to take care of himself. On the other hand, years of meticulously fighting off dust in the hayloft had left her fastidious to a fault. Gregory’s mining tools, leftover dishes, and muddy boots all over the cabin drove her to distraction. She asked the miners to bring her a washboard, and took to scrubbing his clothes as well as her own. She might respect the miners, but she did not want to smell like them, nor bed someone who did. In light of past arguments, however, their spats were quickly forgotten.

  Unfortunately, her goal of falling desperately in love with him again did not happen. Up here she had only a bunch of dirty men and scaly beasts for competition, and she had no doubt Gregory would return to their old routine when they returned to the palace. Maybe the past month would have made up for what she faced at home if she hadn’t known any different, but she did. By now Dorian had returned to Eclatant, and she was no closer to keeping her promise to Rosemary and forgetting him than she had been the morning of their tumble in the broom closet.

  She missed him, simply, every day and in every new experience. She stored up anecdotes to tell him, hoping she could do justice to the people and land and creatures around her. She wanted to hear him retell his stories of his first year here, now that she could appreciate what it must have been like for a boy of seventeen fresh from the lush forests of the Lake District. Twice she sat down to write to him, but nothing she wanted to say was safe to put to paper. She tucked the half-finished notes into a feed sack and asked Teardrop to take them into one of the active caves. She fed her words to the dragons’ breath.

  She took long rides across the foothills when Gregory was otherwise occupied, as he would not approve of her wandering on her own. She wondered what he thought could bother her with Teardrop’s protection, but decided the solitude was worth it. It would be in short supply when they returned to Maliana.

  A week before they were to leave she called her mare to a halt at the top of a ste
ep ridge. She recognized the gray dot that was Thunderhead by the white patch on his breast. He floated lazily on the currents. Even a mile from the Mines the smell of Fire-iron dust hung in the air. She took off her gloves and buried her hands under Teardrop’s warm mane. The wind blew into her eyes and she wiped them.

  “We will be going home soon,” said Teardrop. “It won’t be long until you see him.”

  “How do you do that?” asked Eleanor.

  “What?”

  “Tell me what is on my mind before I say it.”

  “I can see him, inside you, looking out.”

  Eleanor nodded. In her way, Teardrop always made perfect sense.

  CHAPTER 21

  My Highest Regard

  Eleanor stood at the foot of her bed, unpacking her personal valise. Jewelry, perfumes, books and stationery were spread over the light silk bedcover. She had opened all the windows, and was enjoying the warm MidAutumn morning after so many long damp days in the North Country.

  Chou Chou fluttered through the window and lit on her head. He flapped his wings as she leaned over and untangled a pearl necklace.

  “Ouch, Chou.” His talons dug into her scalp. He dropped a folded sheet of plain white paper into the valise. She crossed her eyes and looked into his upside-down face. “Get down, you’re making me dizzy,” she said.

  He dropped onto the bed. “From Frog,” he whispered. “He asked that you burn it.”

  Eleanor glanced at Pansy hanging clothes in the wardrobe. “What else did he say?”

  “You know Frog,” said Chou.

  She nodded. Dorian had named Frog for his croaking voice, but the raven rarely used it with anyone but his master.

  Eleanor excused herself loudly and went to the bathing room. She closed the door behind her. She leaned on the tub, afraid to read the note. Eleanor and Gregory had arrived at Eclatant late the previous night and gone straight to bed. She and Dorian had not spoken since he left Solsea.

  Her hands shook as she unfolded the paper.

  Dear Lady,