However, at some time during the night the beast, or part of it, had been there, judging by the shiny object, which proved to be a delicately wrought silver coronet inlaid with blue stones. She picked it up and turned it over in her hands, then carried it over to the full-length mirror in the center of her dressing table.
The blue did pick up the blue in her eyes, brightening what could sometimes be steely undertones that belied her sweet expressions when she was trying to wheedle something out of one of her admirers. And the silver did show up well against her golden locks. But sapphires were lesser stones and silver was not gold. If this was a gift from the dragon—and what else could it be? —what did he think she was, anyway? Some child to be fobbed off with cheap baubles?
When the dragon appeared behind her in the mirror, the wretched creature asked, “Do you like it?”
Before she could express her disappointment, the beast added, “There’s more where that came from. I bestowed upon you a mere trifle compared to what I could give you. If I wanted to.”
“It’s very nice, Dragon. I can wear it in council chambers or during archery practice, but I had in mind something a bit more upmarket? Sapphires are such practical stones, but don’t you feel they lack authority and grandeur? I was thinking gold with diamonds and emeralds. Perhaps in a matched parure of necklaces, bracelets, brooches, clips and earrings?”
“I seem to recall seeing something like that from time to time. For a very good friend, I could rummage around in my hoard and see if they turn up.”
“Or I could help you,” she said.
“Aren’t you afraid I’d eat you?” the beast asked with a sly gleam in its eye.
“I thought you lot didn’t do that sort of thing anymore.”
“We haven’t for years, but due to the current food shortage, the matter is open for renegotiation.”
“Oh,” she said. The truth was, she wasn’t really accustomed to thinking of dragons as dangerous. They were big, of course, but so were carriages and trains. They were, or had been, simply part of what made things work, except of course, now they weren’t. “But you wouldn’t eat a friend, would you? Like me, for instance?”
“Of course not. Not if you were my friend, Princess Malady.” She thought she heard him mutter under his breath “—unless I was very, very hungry.”
“Er—what do I call you?” she asked, following her deportment instructor’s cardinal rule of social intercourse, when in doubt, make small talk. “‘Dragon’ seems to be rather a general term these days, as it could apply to so many.”
“Durance,” the dragon replied, “the Vile.”
“So, Durance, your lair is in the castle, I presume?” she asked, still conversationally, but now that she was trying to draw the beast out, her demeanor seemed to have become inappropriately coy.
“The castle that was,” Durance said. “Many castles ago.”
Malady was confused. So far as she knew, this was the only castle that had stood here. Ever. But history wasn’t her best subject.
“I’m wondering why I can talk to you,” she said. “You’re not by any chance a handsome prince cursed into dragon form until a beautiful princess kisses you?”
A deep hissing sigh rattled the roof tiles. “Just wear the headpiece, will you? Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to look a dragon’s gift in his mouth?”
Malady blinked three times. “No.”
“Well, don’t.”
“But I want to choose my things,” she said stubbornly. She had begun to feel the dragon had gained the upper claw in their relationship, and she didn’t like it.
“Consider me your stylist,” the dragon said, and slithered down the stonework.
She wanted to stamp her foot and have a good pout and maybe tell the uncles to have the beast removed, except that Durance promised her even more wonderful things.
“My uncles think I spend too much on finery,” she told Durance one day after a particularly trying interview on the Budget and the Economy. “But I haven’t spent anything for weeks except on dresses. They think being a royal is all about boring stuff…”
“They are peasants. They plot against you. Did you know? I hear them through the council chamber windows. They have no respect for their betters.”
Malady sniffed, offended. “They think they know better than I do because they are men and older, but I tell you, Durance, they have no class, no sense of occasion.”
“And you do, pretty, pretty princess. It is your Faerie lineage, no doubt.”
“Faerie lineage? What do you mean by that? Faeries aren’t real and even if they were once in this country, I’m from Frostingdung and they have never been real there. I think.”
“Believe what you will, but blood will tell,” Durance said. “Do you think it a coincidence that you are the one who’s been chosen? I am a castle dragon who has lived in the bowels of this palace for many generations. I certainly know a Faerie princess when I see one.”
Malady was very disappointed in the uncles, though she expected a certain amount of plotting. She’d planned to play them off against Durance to ultimately force him to cough up the crown jewels and whatever else he had in his hoard. She’d considered the dragon untrustworthy, but if he was to be believed, her uncles were even more scale-brained than he was. Good thing she’d convinced Uncle Marquette, from her mama’s side of the family, to come for a visit. He adored her. She was sure of it.
Chapter 12: The Fountain Pen Pirate
Marquette Fontaine did not aspire to be the scourge of the seas. He just wanted to own them, and more importantly, to own the land adjoining them. Beachfront and water view property were always good acquisitions. With the economies of both Frostingdung and Argonia in extreme flux, which naturally affected the economies of the adjoining countries, people on dry land were liquidating their assets for low, low prices. The Queenston Bank had enjoyed an unusual run of foreclosures on business properties now that the businesses were put out of business when their source of power was having a collective pout and had slithered away from its duty stations.
This presented no catastrophe to Marquette, who saw the circumstances only as a great opportunity to take advantage of the downturn. His agents were collecting properties not only in Queenston, but also all up and down the coasts. Though he usually preferred to rule what he thought of as his private empire from the comfort of his fashionable manor house in the town of Rosegilt, the largest city in Suleskeria Province, his niece’s invitation to visit her in Queenston was too tempting.
Nubile young nieces in positions of power struck him as a versatile commodity. You could of course marry them off to someone more powerful, but then dowries might be involved, or you could seek to be the power behind the throne, which, with someone of Malady’s temperament was a risky proposition indeed, or you could marry them yourself, especially after having fostered a warm if distant relationship beforehand. She was actually a niece by marriage—his first wife had been her mother’s sister, though there was a tangle of family interconnections between them as well. The other uncles were not particularly clever fellows, old, dull, and unimaginative. He was certain he could take full advantage of the situation far more effectively than any of them, while maintaining the impression that he was only coming to help.
He had one of his ships loaded with Frostingdungian goods to replace those not currently being produced in Argonia, thanks to the dragons, or rather thanks to the absence of dragons in the work force. He also carried a map case full of his most recent acquisitions, including the holdings of a major shipping company whose properties included a number of small company port towns. He’d always had a horror of dragons in the past but recently had begun to feel quite fond of them.
His stateroom and an adjoining cabin were full of frills and trinkets of the sort Malady favored. Marquette had gone through three wives already, the latest meeting her timely demise only a few months ago. Malady was old enough for marriage, and as de facto regent of Argonia, was extre
mely eligible as well. He wanted to remind her of her fondness for her dear uncle—her fun uncle, before his brothers and cousins decided to marry her off to some minor noble in some obscure hole of a country. With her beauty and sense of occasion and his brains and business acumen, they would make quite the fashionable power couple.
He sighed. He knew he was fantasizing. Malady was a handful, spoilt and willful. Even with the training he was much too busy to give her, she was unlikely to cooperate with his plans without interference. He would end up either having to bribe her, bankrupting himself, or beat her into submission, which he had found in the past to be counterproductive.
Although the sea was calm with only the gentle rocking motion that made him sleepy, he had no wish to remain belowdecks where it was dark and not a little smelly. Besides, it was good for morale for the men to see their leader.
They greeted him with a salute. ‘Cap’n,’ each would mumble as he passed although in reality he was not the captain but the owner of the ship. But ‘captain’ was a rank these rough fellows respected. They called the man who ran the ship and saw that it got to where it was supposed to go with as few seagoing hazards as possible “skipper” or “skip,” a title Marquette could live without. ‘Captain’ had dignity.
At a cry from the crow’s nest he looked aloft to see the lookout gesturing leeward. The sun glinted off his spyglass as he raised it for another look.
“What is it, man?” Marquette called.
But the man now was staring fixedly at an object too far for Marquette to see without a glass.
Whatever they might think of him, Marquette was still young enough, slim enough, spry enough to climb with the best of them. He grabbed the ropes to climb, but the lookout was on his way down. “Mermaid, sir. I swear. I never heard of a ship spotted one swimming, but like a dolphin she was, or a seal, but her tail is all shiny scales, looked purple sometimes, green others.”
Marquette grabbed the spyglass. “Where?”
The sailor swung his arm to the starboard bow, “About there, sir, close enough I could see her long green hair when she surfaced, but when she spotted us, she dove back down again.”
“After her!” Marquette cried. Spying the skipper, he gave an order, “Get on it, man, and sharpish. We’ve a mermaid to catch!”
“Oh, I wouldn’t do that, sir!” the lookout said.
“Why not, pray? Has it not occurred to any of you that such a creature could show us the location of any and all sunken treasure in her domain? It’s said there’s many a vast fortune down there.”
“Aye, sir, so I’ve heard. But ’tis bad luck to catch a mermaid, sir. Them as tries it never makes it to port.”
“If they don’t make it to port, man, how would anyone know it had anything to do with a fish woman? I gave an order and I expect it to be followed. Skipper?”
“Aye, Milord, we’ll give chase, but I fear we may have lost her.”
“While your seamen stand around arguing with their betters. No wonder!” he said, but just then there was a yell from another sailor who spotted the creature and this time the ship was in position to give chase.
Hours later, weary from pacing the decks and straining his eyes to search for the mermaid, he decided there might be something to the superstition. They were far off course, and he was about to order that they forget the creature, correct their course and sail on to their original destination when the song began.
Sirens’ Lips Sink Ships
Eulalia was peeved. Honestly, a girl couldn’t go anywhere without some stupid ship following in her wake.
Typically, one did not lure ships from a swimming position. One sat upon conveniently located rocks and brandished comb and mirror while serenading sailors, the better to wreck ships.
She did not frequent these waters, however. On the way from her Atoll, she had caught up on the current gossip with the always well-informed schools of fish, the octopus and her seal cousins. Only pressing family matters were important enough for her to abandon her post and look where it had got her! When she couldn’t lure ships to her, it seemed she had encountered them anyway. No time off, ever. No help for it.
Popping up long enough to confuse her pursuers, she hoped, she turned on her siren.
After the first eight bars, she dived deep and swam back under the ship and took a detour to the coast of Frostingdung where her distant selkie relatives welcomed her to their rocks and they had a good natter about a recent adventure full of juicy details.
What she did not reckon on was that the ship was already headed for the same ultimate destination as she. Giving chase to her had merely delayed it.
Leaving her friends, she swam beneath the rough water surrounding the Horn, surfacing only as she neared some sheltering rocks offshore from Horn Haven. She signaled her arrival to Erotica by blowing on a conch shell that could be heard for miles at sea.
It was also heard aboard Marquette Fontaine’s ship, which crept up on her while she was under water and had a net waiting for her. Before she quite knew what happened she felt a weight drop on her head and shoulders and then she was suspended over the deck like a landed salmon, sailors laughing and gloating over her while she fumed.
“What are we to do with a woman who’s all scales belowdecks, Captain?” One of them asked, poking her through the net so it swung to and fro in a way that was unharmonious with the movement of the waves. She spewed. He and the others laughed even harder. “A seasick mermaid! Well, I never!”
“Don’t worry about that, brave boys,” the overdressed merchant with the bright buttons and braid told her tormentors at large. “We’re quite close to port. I want something else entirely from this one.”
“You mean like treasure?”
Eulalia saw her opportunity. “I know where to find treasure. Let me go and I’ll tell you.” She didn’t really care who had treasures. They were not the kind of treasure she was interested in. Once she was free, if this ship was on the sea, she’d see to it that the treasure was soon back on the ocean floor where it belonged.
“Tell me, and I’ll let you go,” he echoed, but as she should have known, he didn’t, even after she gave him the details of the story she’d gathered from the seal people.
Marquette knew that the gods and all the fishes were on his side that day, because as he pulled into port, his ship slid neatly into the dock and moored next to none other than the reported treasure ship the fish woman had just named, the Belle’s Shell, which was in the vulnerable position of being loaded at that point.
“We have our work cut out for us this day, boys,” Marquette said, and gestured toward the smaller ship. “Take possession of yon ship and bring me the treasure. Which we’ll divide evenly after tariffs, excise tax and other taxes, plus expenses are deducted.”
He said the last line quietly, after the men had begun boarding the target ship.
Unexpected Guests
The sun bloodied the horizon as it sank into the sea. Along the trail, the trees snapped and shivered in the wind as Verity, Bowen, Fiona and Clodagh and Kiln descended the long hill leading into Horn Haven. The closer they drew, the darker it grew.
Down in the harbor, the Belle quaked in her berth while a second ship, outlined against the draining light, disgorged torch-bearing sailors? Pirates? brandishing weapons.
Mr. Bowen kicked his mount, but Verity restrained him by grabbing the reins. “Don’t.”
Fiona was not to be held back. “Another ship’s come in! I don’t believe Madame was expecting another for another two weeks. I’d best get back to work!”
“Fickle wench!” Bowen muttered under his breath, scowling as the Belle was overtaken.
Fiona paid him no mind and clucked at her mare to proceed.
He jerked the reins from Verity’s hand. “We’re needed,” he said, and galloped down the hill.
Clodagh and Kiln held back, the three ghost cats that had attached themselves to her flickering between her and Verity. Her clay face was impassive, but her ey
es were frightened.
“No need for you to come,” Verity told her. “Unless Kiln…”
Clodagh shook her head and protectively put her arm around Kiln’s neck. The dragon whimpered and buried his snout in the folds of her skirt.
“Very well, then,” Verity said, and led her horse down the hill.
In the gathering gloom and groaning wind, no one paid them any attention. They approached Erotica’s house from the rear. Fiona opened the back door and dashed inside, leaving it ajar. As Verity entered, she heard the other girl’s footsteps pounding up the steps of the back staircase. Verity charged down the hall into the kitchen and parlor.
The Spa and Brothel staff, clad in loose silk robes, lacy underthings or even less, crowded against the windows, sharing a spyglass to watch the drama in the harbor.
“Who’s that?” Verity asked the woman with the spyglass.
“Dunno, but they’re attacking your ship.”
Verity took the glass, trying to discover the identity of the attackers.
They swarmed the Belle’s decks, and though she couldn’t hear everything that happened in the harbor, the invaders were plainly whooping and hollering, possibly emitting war cries. The Belle’s crew responded stolidly, and no doubt with cursing, but they had been plainly at a disadvantage and had been taken by surprise.
A cannon cracked. Flying streaks of charcoal cloud unmasked the moon to reveal the black flag flapping from the second ship’s top mainsail. No sooner had the boom died away than they became aware of another sound, a high, wailing keen that seemed to come from everywhere.
Erotica came running into the room and snatched the glass from Verity. “Eulalia!” she said grimly, then handed it back. “On the strange ship.”
The Redundant Dragons Page 13