Dragonhunters

by Sabrina Chase

  The cottage looked much tidier than it had during Dominic’s residence. Michel, the former carter, and his sister, Amay, lived there now. They were still wary of the magic of Peran but strangely willing to work there, and they had painted and planted flowers and generally made the cottage look quite charming.

  “I hope Michel is not too disturbed by all this,” Ardhuin remarked, reminded of their coachman’s aversion.

  “Well he was rather chatty, for him.” Dominic knocked at the door. “But perhaps he just wants his house back.”

  Estelle, their housekeeper, was inside. She seemed quite relieved to see them.

  “The poor lad has something troubling him. I do hope you can help,” she said. “And he has not been eating well. It’s no wonder he fell ill.” She gave a disapproving sniff.

  “Is he infectious?” Dominic looked alarmed.

  Estelle shook her head. “Worn to the bone, and his foreign clothes, too.” She led the way back to the tiny bedroom.

  There was hardly room for three extra people, or even the bed. Ardhuin stood in the doorway and studied their unusual visitor. He was asleep, but restlessly. He had heavy black hair, ragged and unevenly cut, and skin a warm tea brown. From what she could see, he was slender in build and not very tall either. His face was gaunt.

  Dominic had been staring at the man, and when he looked at her he gave a slight shake of his head. No geas.

  “Do you recognize him?”

  Ardhuin shook her head. “Of course, if he had been in disguise earlier…‌”

  The man shifted on the bed, groaning. His eyes flickered, then blinked open, staring at her, then at Dominic. They held no sign of recognition.

  Dominic picked up the glass of water beside the bed and helped him drink. “Are you feeling better? Can you talk with us?”

  “Dono? Albanais?” The man’s voice was rough, and he spoke with a strong, choppy accent.

  “Do you understand Alban?” Ardhuin said in that language. His eyes brightened.

  “Yes, miss. I have more words.”

  “What is your name?” Dominic asked. His Alban was rusty, but he could manage.

  “Sonam, sir.”

  “Just Sonam?”

  Sonam nodded.

  “I am told you came seeking my great–‌uncle. That you knew both of his names. What did you wish with him?”

  Sonam gave her a bleak look. “My teacher told me to go to this one, Yves Morlais. But he is gone. I do not know what to do.”

  “Your teacher. A magician?” Dominic asked. Sonam nodded, warily. “What is his name?”

  “Forgive. I am not to say, there is danger.” Now Sonam looked frightened. “The servant said, Oron’s house now belongs to his female relative. Are you this one?” he asked, glancing at Ardhuin. “Do you know who speaks for Oron?”

  Ardhuin hesitated. It was risky to reveal too much when she knew nothing about Sonam or who had sent him. The geas was not the only way to ensure obedient service, and it was possible Denais knew she would watch for it and use something else. “Yes, I know. But there are powerful enemies who would also like to know. How do I know you have not been sent by them?”

  Sonam nodded. “Yes, very bad enemy. So my teacher tells me, not to say his name unless I know. My teacher gives me this to show to magicians.” He glanced at Dominic.

  “Yes, please show me.”

  Sonam reached inside his shabby, odd–‌looking jacket and took out a cloth drawstring bag. He tugged on the opening until the bag was completely open, a circle of cloth held flat on his hands. In the center was a dull silver metal box with heavy inscribed decorations. A dark blue stone, polished but asymmetrical, was mounted in the center. It did not appear to have hinges or any means to open it.

  “Interesting. A stasis field, but only around the top.”

  Ardhuin inched her way into the room to stand behind Dominic, placing one hand on his shoulder. She got a shield ready in front of them both, then tightened her grip slightly as she removed the stasis field. The little box jumped, the lid coming free, and she leaned forward to see what was inside.

  It was an animal skull, only a few inches long, delicate and strangely familiar. It had many sharp teeth, a long snout, and slanted eye sockets.

  Dominic started. “It’s magic! The creature itself was magic? But how…‌there was some other creature you mentioned, that had magic,” he said, turning to look at Ardhuin. “That fossilized scale, from the expedition.”

  “A dragon,” Ardhuin breathed. “But this is not a fossil. It is still bone. And so small!”

  “Wait, wait.” Dominic put both hands up to his head. “I know I’ve heard something about this. Or read it. That book, Drakon Atlantea…‌no, wait. Dragons in Asea. Why is that familiar? Connected to Baerlen somehow.”

  Then she remembered. MacCrimmon. He had gone to someplace called the Tian Shan to look for dragons, and they couldn’t find him.

  Ardhuin squeezed Dominic’s shoulder again and left the room. He followed her out.

  “Did MacCrimmon send him?” he asked, his voice low, when she explained what she had guessed. “He’s still alive?”

  “MacCrimmon may have sent the box, but what if it was stolen? Sonam could still be an agent of Denais, trying to attack us. Did you notice anything else unusual about that box?”

  Dominic shook his head. “The only magic was the stasis, now gone, and the traces of magic in the skull. Magic I don’t recognize. Why would MacCrimmon want to contact your great–‌uncle specifically, instead of the Mage Guardians in general? Were they close friends? Why the secrecy?”

  Ardhuin felt herself go cold. “Because for some reason he thought the others could not or would not help him. Perhaps he knew or suspected the others were dead.”

  Dominic was silent for a moment, his expression worried. “We still don’t know for sure Sonam was sent by MacCrimmon. Even if he was, he won’t answer questions except from Oron’s heir, and I doubt he’ll believe you are Oron’s heir without a lot of proof.”

  “And if MacCrimmon didn’t send him, we don’t want him to know.” Ardhuin sighed. “I wonder…‌can we use the Justice rose without causing suspicion?” And did it have any open blooms? She couldn’t remember.

  “I should think so. Even when I know what to look for, it isn’t obvious. We can have Estelle bring in a bouquet, as if to brighten up the room, and return later.”

  The Justice rose had one bloom just beginning to open, fortunately. Ardhuin picked a few ordinary roses to surround it and they put Dominic’s plan in action. While they waited, Ardhuin searched her great–‌uncle’s papers to see if MacCrimmon had sent any letters, or other reason for him to want to speak to Oron, but found nothing. Dominic found the volume of Drakon Atlantea and skimmed it for hints.

  When they returned, Sonam was awake and regarding them warily. He had returned the little box to its bag, which was resting on the table by the bed, next to a vase with the roses. Given the tiny room, the rose was quite close to Sonam. He would be unable to escape the magical effects with it so near.

  Best to ask some questions he would be more willing to answer first. Ardhuin smiled at Sonam. “Do you know the name of the creature that came from? My father is a naturalist, but I have seen nothing like it.”

  “It is…‌I do not know the word in this language. My people call it kai–‌ling,” Sonam said.

  “Where are they found?” Dominic asked, engaged in trimming a lamp.

  Sonam frowned, a puzzled expression in his eyes as he rubbed his throat. Good, the rose was working.

  “You must have traveled far.” Ardhuin sat in the chair so she could watch Sonam’s reaction. “Did MacCrimmon send you?”

  Sonam gasped and choked, clawing at his throat. His eyes went wide, staring at her as he struggled to breathe.

  “You won’t be able to lie,” Dominic said. “You can be silent if you wish, but you can’t lie. It’s clear you recognize his name. Is he still alive?”

  Sonam closed
his eyes, swallowing hard. “Yes.” Then, gathering strength, he stared at Dominic fiercely. “I will not say where he is. It is a hidden place. I will only tell the one who speaks for Oron. You can kill me, I will not speak!”

  He really is alive. Ardhuin felt a sudden rush of relief. Yes, there was Jan, but now she knew there was another experienced Mage Guardian. Somewhere. Now she had to convince Sonam to trust them.

  “I am sorry, but we needed to be sure. Those dangerous men that threaten your teacher are not the only ones. I am in danger too.” She stood and invoked the gloire. Through the shimmering golden wall of magic, she met Sonam’s startled, suddenly comprehending eyes. “I speak for Oron. What message does Alastair MacCrimmon send? Why has he sent you instead of coming himself?”

  “He is very sick,” Sonam whispered, closing his eyes as if in pain. “He built a powerful namas…‌magic wall around the valley, to protect it. He had no more strength left, and the enemy was still there. After the wall he used the magic…‌I do not remember the name. He lives but does not breathe. And then I hid him. He told me to come here, seek help. That Oron would hear the hidden words and come.” He drew a deep, almost sobbing breath. “It took many months to travel here from the Sky–‌Holding Mountains. Now I am sick too. How will I return in time?”

  Dominic raised his head, staring at Sonam. “Wait. Hidden words? Hidden where?”

  “He said he had hidden words. I do not know. He said…‌he said Oron would remember the place.” Sonam’s expression grew more and more distressed, and he turned his head restlessly on the pillow. “Please. You must help him!”

  Dominic stretched out a hand. “We will do our best. But without…‌”

  Ardhuin drew in a breath. Even MacCrimmon could not send a message so far and leave it here, in Oron’s house, nor could he expect Oron to go where he was just to find out what he wanted. But MacCrimmon had sent the little dragon skull. She picked it up. A magic creature would naturally have residual magic in its bones. Perhaps a trace more would be hard to detect. Her great–‌uncle, presumably, would already know of such a trick. He had not mentioned it to her—‌but she had Dominic.

  She turned the skull over in her fingers. At the base of the skull was a hole where it had once connected to the spine.

  “Do you see anything unusual there?”

  Dominic peered at the base of the skull. “No, only the same—‌wait. A little bead, very bright. I don’t recognize the spell, though. It’s so small.”

  Brightness, to Dominic, meant power. What spell was both strong and small? That MacCrimmon would expect her great–‌uncle to know he would send?

  Then she remembered. She’d thought it was just a parlor trick, something he had done to amuse her. A way of catching her words as she spoke them, putting them in a bubble, and then letting them go when she gave the signal. It had never failed to entertain her, all those years ago.

  “Listen carefully. It will only work once.” Ardhuin focused her power, giving it the slightest ringing pulse to break the bubble.

  A weary, rough voice echoed from the dragon skull. “Yves. Sorry, but I’m calling in that favor now. I’ll do what I can to keep the people here safe, but it won’t last forever.” The words were interrupted by a hacking cough. “And neither will I,” the voice continued, sounding even weaker. “It’s not just for them, though. It’s Compact business. I don’t dare say why, even in this message. You get here, you’ll know. If this gets out, it will make Guedoc look like an apprentice. I’m counting on you, Yves. If you can’t come yourself, for God’s sake send another Guardian or all hell’s going to break loose.”

  The little town on the Turjik Sea was named Baftu, and that was about all that Gutrune had been able to discover in the few days she had been there. The locals were poverty–‌stricken and sullen, rarely talking and when they did, their dialect was so thick her few words of the language were useless.

  She had managed to find some of the baggy peasant women’s clothing, including a large kerchief to hide her unusual hair. It was not a perfect disguise, but it did allow her to buy food in the tiny market without attracting too much attention. To prevent her pale eyes betraying her foreign origin, she kept them lowered or squinted.

  A broken–‌down and abandoned shed, which apparently had previously housed goats, served as shelter. It also had a view of the local telegraph office, so she could see when the lone government official left for his very long luncheons or went home for the night. Then she could pick the crude lock on the back door and send her own messages. It was too dangerous to be seen in the telegraph office itself, especially before the spy and his gear had left the town. She could not be sure he did not have other confederates watching.

  If Preusa sent the assistance she requested, she could blend in with the crowd and do more. At present, however, there was not much she could do. She’d give them a week more, then she would have to move on. Best to tell them that now.

  A drizzle of rain fell on the muddy street outside. An hour passed with no sign of anyone, not even a trudging fisherman. The telegraph officer opened the door, grimaced at the rain, then stepped out and quickly locked the door with a heavy, old–‌fashioned iron key before hustling down the street for his lunch.

  Good. He’d be late coming back, too, to avoid the rain, knowing there would be few customers waiting for his return. She waited a few more minutes to make sure the man would not return for something, then began to ease silently out of the collapsing shed. It was awkward breaking in every time she needed to use the telegraph, but easier than in the other smaller towns where she had needed to tap into the line itself and risk discovery.

  A familiar–‌looking man appeared in the street, wearing Aeropan clothes and carrying a large satchel. He stood in front of the closed telegraph office and looked up and down the street. Gutrune drew in her breath. Stoller.

  She put her fingers to her mouth and gave two short, sharp whistles. Stoller’s head whipped around, and he quickly made his way to the shed.

  “How did you find me? I was just going to send a message.”

  Stoller smiled. “This is the third town I’ve been to. Your brother gave me a list. Said, find the telegraph office and look around it. Are you well, miss?” His eyes widened momentarily when he edged into the shed, and he coughed.

  “I think there were goats,” Gutrune said. “Are they watching the ports as I asked?”

  He shrugged. “They got the message, but they didn’t tell me more than that. I brought some clothes for you, and money. I figured you might be needing them. Your brother said to tell you he’s sending some people as soon as I confirm your location.”

  That might actually be good news. Stoller didn’t have a codebook, so they would not send coded messages—‌and a “no” would not need to be coded.

  “What did you do with the rest of my gear?” Gutrune asked. She still had the original load of ammunition she had taken with her to the cave, and the rifle hidden in a bundle a peasant woman might carry, but a pistol would be useful now.

  “Left them at the last big train station, to be sent for. What’s your plan, miss? Wait for reinforcements?”

  Gutrune thought wistfully of the clean clothes in the satchel, but only for a moment. She had work to do, and now that Stoller was here, she could do it.

  “The spy kept his gear in a building near the dock. He only took a few boxes with him, and maybe there will be other information there. It’s guarded, so I’ll need a distraction to get inside.”

  Stoller cast his eyes heavenward and gave a resigned sigh. “I’ll arrange it, miss.”

  Chapter 6

  Dominic opened the double seadragon doors to the library and went over to where Ardhuin was seated at the big desk. She was puzzling over a rough sketch, biting her lip in thought.

  “Still working on the wards? I thought you cast new ones when we brought Sonam in.”

  She looked up, blinking at him. “Well, yes, but that is just temporary. MacCrimmon�
�s message means we will have guests again soon, whether we like it or not, and Henri can’t come get me every time he needs to let someone in. Estelle would like Amay to be able to come to work earlier than I like to get up, too.” She smiled mischievously.

  Dominic put an arm around her shoulders and kissed her cheek. “You mean before noon?”

  “Court business tires me. Besides, you seemed quite content to stay yourself.”

  He affected a look of high dudgeon. “How could I leave you alone and defenseless?” Ardhuin laughed, and he grinned.

  Henri entered the library carrying his tray. “Telegrams, madame.”

  “Your use of the plural disturbs me,” murmured Dominic. “At this rate, we may as well simply pay the postboy to come by every hour.”

  Henri bowed. “I have already taken the liberty of tipping the lad a few guilders, but it was quite unnecessary. He appears delighted to have the frequent necessity of coming to the house.”

  “Truly? I hope the rumors about frogs haven’t started up again,” Dominic remarked.

  “I couldn’t say, sir.” Henri bowed again and left.

  “I’ll help you decode them,” said Dominic, pulling up a chair.

  “Oh, thank you.” Ardhuin sighed. “They are both rather long, but I suppose that is to be expected with Sonam’s news. One from the Ministry of Magic, and one from Detection.”

  “I’ll take the Detection one.” Dominic reached for a blank sheet of foolscap and a pen. “I suppose as annoying as it is to have a station in Baranton, it would be even more awkward to wait days for a reply.” Not that they would have been allowed to do that—‌the only real alternative would be for them to return to Rennes, and Ardhuin would dislike that exceedingly.

  When both messages were legible, Dominic was relieved to see that the respective court ministries had stopped objecting to the invocation of the Compact and started providing useful information. That had taken two exchanges of telegrams. Sonam had been able to provide enough detail that they had a better idea of where MacCrimmon was and how long they had before the vital stasis on MacCrimmon wore off.