Books Of Barakhai - The Lost Dragons Of Barakhai Part 17

Ialin continued as if he had not noticed the sudden breaking of the bird's silence or the error clearly intended to test his ident.i.ty, "Came upon an unexpected load of vilegro. Thought I'd bring it by before it gets unusable. If I'd known I'd come at a bad time, I'd have waited a few more days."

"Half a day would have been enough." The chamberlain sat back with his mug. "The rat will be dead at midday."

Terror flashed through Ialin. Before he could think to suppress it, his nostrils flared and his hands clenched in his lap. Aisa seized another death grip on his ear. Though glad for the distraction of the pain, Ialin swiftly found it unbearable. He grabbed the jagged, black beak, winching it open with thumb and forefinger to free his aching ear. "d.a.m.n it, Frida. That hurts!"

"I'm sorry." Aisa hunched into herself remorsefully, feathers ruffled and beak low.

"A hanging?" Ialin tried to keep his question matter-of-fact, though his voice broke a bit at the end.

"No." Jarvid studied his guest. "The king's Otherworld adviser came up with something more interesting that didn't require taking the rat outside where the traitors might manage a public and humiliating rescue." He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Just between you and me..."

Ialin knew Eshwyn might interrupt with something sarcastic about the presence of the two guards making them four, but he did not wish to distract the chamberlain from what seemed like a crucial point.

" she scares me. She's always had a wicked streak, hut it's as wide as the a.n.a.le River since the fire damaged her and Prince Hardin. You know, she actually tried to talk His Majesty into letting her breedthose dragons. Making more dragons. Deliberately. Can you believe such a thing?"

Ialin could scarcely believe his luck. Apparently, Eshwyn held high favor with Jarvid to have become privy to such secrets. He plastered a look of horror on his conjured features. "That's all Barakhai needs.

A whole flock of enormous, carnivorous, magic-wielding monsters soaring through its skies." He shook his head. "You're right. The girl is mad." He tried to add casually, as a natural extension of the conversation. "But His Majesty is a wise man." The compliment came easily. Though the rebels struggled against his policies, especially his prejudices against magic and Random unions, they found the king himself reasonably just and intelligent most of the time. "Surely, he wouldn't let her do something so stupid."

"Of course not." The chamberlain took another sip of wine while the guards stirred restively. "He reinstated their executions, which should have happened years ago. Carrie went crazier than usual. It was a marvelous debate, though it was a foregone conclusion, of course. She did manage to talk him into letting her he the one who... ended their suffering." Jarvid dropped back into that secretive whisper. "The guards haven't had to perform a single execution in over a year. They just bind the condemned, place him on a cart, and turn him over to Carrie. I think she actually enjoys killing."

Ialin hunched into himself, hoping it was not a common trait among those of Carrie Quinton's world.

He did not wholly trust Collins' judgment, but he did not believe the man would intentionally harm them.

His blunders seemed more a result of ignorance and incompetence than cruelty. Ialin dropped his own head to his chin, and his volume fell to Jarvid's level. "So she put the dragons to death?"

Jarvid shrugged. "She must have. No sign of them since she led them into the mustier regions of the dungeon. The old torture area. As far as I know, no one's used those old devices for centuries, certainly not His Majesty, nor King Terrin's father."

Another hot wave of horror shot through Ialin. If he believed Jarvid, and the chamberlain's confidences seemed sincere, the royal family had had nothing to do with moving the dragons. Quinton had duped them just as she had the rebels, and only Prinivere's mind reading had rescued them from believing the same lie. But how does one woman handle the care and feeding of dragons alone? He bated the answer that seeped into his mind. She's feeding them... the condemned. Nausea flooded his gut, and acid crawled up his throat. But how does she come and go safely through caverns filled with the descendants of carnivores to do it? Ialin cleared his throat and swallowed painfully, forcing a return to the mindset of Eshwyn the merchant. Is all this even true or just another test? He looked up in time to see the chamberlain gesturing subtly to one of his guards.

Ialin gritted his teeth, clamping his fingers in his lap, hoping he had not made a serious miscalculation.

"So," Jarvid said carefully. "How did you know about the dragons? This is the first time I mentioned them to you."

"Indeed." Ialin scrambled to save his cover. "I thought it more polite to take the details from context rather than question your memory or your sanity." It was a bold move that might offend the chamberlain, hut it seemed the best way out of a bad situation. Thus far, he had performed better than even he had expected. He had antic.i.p.ated switching to his second plan long before now and worried that his and Aisa's switch-time might come upon them during an inopportune situation.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Then you won't mind one more test, Eshwyn?"

Ialin folded his arms over his chest. "Actually, I'm tired and irritable and sick of the games. There's no law that says I have to offer the king my best wares first."

Jarvid chuckled, this time without amus.e.m.e.nt. "Of course not, but who else could afford to pay youwhat they're worth?"

Ialin could hardly argue the point. "Haven't I proved myself well enough yet?" He had little choice hut to dissuade the chamberlain from any tests now, before he administered one. Ialin might manage to pa.s.s it; he had so far, but he dared not take the chance. His best gamble lay in pretending to take offense at treatment he considered unconscionably rude.

Jarvid ignored Ialin's protestations. "Did you bring what you promised the younger princess on your next visit?"

Ialin dodged the query, keeping the edge in his tone. "I brought only vilegro." He ran a hand down Aisa's back, a prearranged signal for her to start looking for an avenue of escape. If he distracted the guards, she might manage to evade them.

The chamberlain held Ialin's gaze. "Very well. Tell me what you promised her, then."

"That," the hummingbird/man replied stiffly, "is between me and Princess Lahtishah."

"Is it?"

"It is."

Jarvid's dark eyes glinted like diamonds. The guards' hands drifted toward their belts. "Then tell me, Eshwyn. What did I ask you to bring?"

The possibilities were endless. Only one answer seemed to provide better than the same miniscule odds. "Sir, you asked for... nothing."

"Is that your answer?"

Ialin read tension in every line of Jarvid's face. He hedged his bets. "If you asked for a specific item, I don't recall it."

"Even if your life depends on it?" The chamberlain made a gesture that sent one guard to the door and the other to wrap his fingers around his hilt. "Because... it does."

There was nothing more Ialin could say, nothing except a wild guess or a plea for his life. He shrugged one shoulder, Aisa rising and falling with the movement, and hoped she took the cue. The instant the door swung open, revealing all five of the guards who had brought Ialin there, Aisa swooped toward them.

Swords rasped from sheaths.

Concerned for Aisa's safety, Ialin scooped up his mug and hurled it at the clot of guardsmen in the doorway. Wine splashed the front rank, spoiling their aim, and the macaw wove through them in a blur of blue and gold. The mug caught one in the shoulder, staggering him into the woman who had earlier taken Ialin's arm. Both crashed to the floor, but the others split around them, two chasing after the retreating bird, the other two, including the elite guard who had opened the door, charging for Ialin.

Ialin remained in place, not bothering to run. He could never make it through the guards alive, and his death served no purpose. One of the chamberlain's elite guardians hurled himself at the still-seated guest.

Ialin ducked under his wildly waving sword. The man crashed against him, sending the chair careening over backward. Ialin twisted with the fall, following the momentum in a light backward somersault to spare himself serious injury. He never made it to his feet. A guard's sword at his throat stopped him in an awkward crouch, and the elite guard's weight pinned his legs to the floor.

Ialin held out his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I won't fight; please don't hurt me." He kept his voice steady, revealing none of the cold squiggles of fear dancing through his chest. To sound defiant might goad them to attack, but helplessness panic was also known to arouse some dogs to go after prey.

Jarvid's other bodyguard hauled the chamberlain out of harm's way. The guards who had fallen scrambled to their feet and moved to block both exits.Jarvid stepped toward Ialin, to the obvious discomfort of his bodyguard. "Disarm yourself, rebel."

Ialin forced himself to remain calm and as still as his racing metabolism allowed. His successes of the last hour had made him believe the original plan might work, but he had already antic.i.p.ated its failure. The a.s.sault on Opernes Castle was not yet lost. He glanced at the guards who held him in place. "Do I have permission to move?"

"They won't harm you," Jarvid promised. "So long as you cooperate."

The elite guard shifted his weight, freeing Ialin's legs, dragging some of the silk pantaloons with him as he moved. He stared at Ialin's ankles, looked at the chamberlain, then inclined his head toward the bared flesh between Ialin's cuffs and shoes.

Jarvid followed the gesture, then nodded in understanding.

Ialin knew they had found the crafted scar. By the grace of all G.o.ds, let it fool them. He rolled his eyes to the sword at his throat, pretending not to see the exchange.

The blade retreated slightly. With stiff, nighty movements, Ialin relieved himself of the utility knife he carried and tossed it to the floor. As he did so, he signaled Vernon with a touch to find a safer hiding place among the several layers of clothing he wore to pad his scrawny frame. The rest depended upon how thoroughly the guards searched him. If they simply patted him down, they would find nothing and believe him as large as he appeared. If they stripped him, the game would end here.

Jarvid's brown eyes met Ialin's again. Miraculously, they had softened. So far, he seemed to be convinced by Ialin's second, more mundane masquerade hidden beneath the first. The scar perfectly matched that of the bear/man, Draezon, well known to the royals since he had rescued a royal cousin, as a toddler, when she became hopelessly lost in a cold, dark forest. Bears were not usually liked or trusted. Of all the legal citizens of Barakhai, they were most likely to revert to cannibalism. Draezon had never done so, however, one of the few durithrin who learned social graces and interacted deliberately with the city folk. Once, he had blundered into a snare placed for a murderer. He had panicked in bear form, nearly severing his foot. The castle staff nursed him back to health, where he became a favorite of the children. The injury had left the familiar scar that Ialin had copied onto his ankle.

"Why, Draezon?" Jarvid asked softly.

Ialin thought he heard a hint of pain in the chamberlain's tone. He lowered his gaze, familiar with the bear/man's idiosyncrasies and comportment. They had worked together on several scouting projects for the rebels. "Y-you know... who I am?"

"Why would you turn against us? Against your liege? Against those who helped you in your time of greatest need?"

Ialin kept his head down, evading the chamberlain's gaze, as Draezon would. "I haven't turned against anyone." He balanced his explanation carefully. He needed to find the words that would keep him alive but still land him in the dungeon, nearer to Zylas. He had considered his backup operation as long and carefully as the original plan that his friends all knew about and a.s.sisted him with. If the royals discovered his true ident.i.ty, they would kill him or, at best, place him in a container too small for his animal form to escape. A man who morphed into a bear could be safely kept in the regular prison, though its widely s.p.a.ced bars would easily allow a hummingbird pa.s.sage. "I never intended to hurt anyone, nor have I. I just wanted to make sure you didn't either."

Footsteps pounded up the stairway, and the two guards who had chased after Aisa returned, still panting from the chase. "She got away, sir," one announced.

Jarvid's teeth clamped together, and his breath escaped in a sharp hiss that corresponded perfectly with Ialin's relieved sigh.Despite the simultaneity of the noises, the chamberlain heard. "Are you finding joy in our misfortune, Draezon?"

"No, sir." Ialin finally raised his head. "I'm finding joy in an innocent woman's fortune." Now, he met Jarvid's dark stare. "I'm willing to accept her punishment as well as my own."

The elite guard snorted. "You can only die once, traitor."

Jarvid raised a hand that silenced the guard. "I'll listen to Draezon."

Ialin resisted the urge to glare at the guard. The gentle bear/man would not act in such a petty fashion.

"The parrot has little overlap and knew nothing of this mission. I took her with me only as a prop."

"And your mission?" Jarvid asked matter-of-factly.

Ialin shook his head. "I can't answer that."

The chamberlain's eyes narrowed.

Before he could speak, Ialin threw the man a crumb. "But I can tell you my reasons."

Jarvid took the bait, though he still looked dangerously perturbed. "Your reasons for turning traitor?"

"I don't see it that way. I see it as protecting my children."

"You're a Regular," Jarvid reminded the man he a.s.sumed was Draezon.

Though Ialin came of a Random union, he could not argue the point when it came to Draezon's background. "And my wife, too. My goose wife. Our children-"

"-are perfectly legal Randoms, sanctioned by the kingdom, who have done very well for themselves."

"And others." Ialin allowed a smile to cross his lips, trying to appear like a proud father. "A dog guard in Ash-tar, awarded for courage. And a chipmunk who finds help for those in trouble in the most remote woodlands. The best children a father could have."

The smile returned to Jarvid's face, a careful echo. "Most fathers would say the same about their children."

"Perhaps." A full concession might diminish Ialin's point. "But your new law makes my children...

criminal."

Jarvid shook his head, while the guards remained silently in place, attentive to every word of the exchange, to every movement of their prisoner. "The law isn't retroactive. It won't change the legitimacy of those already born. In fact, His Majesty delayed the inst.i.tution of it to allow not only those inside their mothers to come into the world honestly hut allowed several extra months for Random couples who wished to marry or to create another baby or litter before the ban was struck. I believe that more than fair, don't you?"

"Reasonable," Ialin gave where he could. "Which I always expect from His Majesty. "But had I lived at a later time, my love for Cellia would have been forever denied, my children would not exist..."

Though Jarvid's expression revealed sympathy, his words did not show the same understanding.

"Love denied is difficult, but fatal only to the weak of heart. Eventually, you would have found a bear to love and marry. I know it's hard to imagine others in the place of the children you have, but you would have loved your bear children as much as your current ones. Lesariat cats trade kittens all the time; it's the ones you raise, the ones who call you 'Poppa' that you love, no matter where they come from or how they appear. Life would not be worse, I a.s.sure you. Only different."

Ialin considered his next approach. He could have discussed the flaws in the king's decree all day and appreciated the chance to get heard by a member of the royal family, a feat he could never haveaccomplished on his own. But he could feel the pressure of a switch to bird form that would come upon him too soon for long conversations.

Apparently interpreting Ialin's silence as skepticism, Jarvid continued, "Marriage and mating laws have limited the royal family much longer and more harshly than any others." He shrugged. "Some sacrifices are necessary for the good of Barakhai and her future. It's up to all of us to make them."

Ialin thought he detected a note of deeply engrained sorrow. Running only on instinct, he tried, "Like you, sir?"

Jarvid's eyes widened in clear surprise. "I've loved and lost," he admitted. "To marry a switcher would mean forever leaving a family that needs me."

Ialin knew that a formal, permanent union with a switcher would strip Jarvid of his royal status, yet he had little to lose by consorting with whomever he chose to in secret. A child born of any such liaison would a.s.sume the form of the mother forever and, therefore, be considered a Regular. To a.s.sure herself and her offspring special treatment, she would gladly claim not to remember a tryst that would seem to have occurred in animal form.

"What about the creatures denied Regular marriages who arc now forbidden from Random ones as well?"

Jarvid's lids rose even further. "You mean... vermin?"

"Yes."

"You think we need more vermin?"

Having risked his life to rescue one such vermin while another lay hidden in the folds of his clothing, Ialin found an answer difficult. "I'm not sure that would harm anything. But even setting aside that part of the argument, snakes and mice spend half of their lives as people, too. Shouldn't they have a right to extra hands on the farm, offspring to try their patience and bring tears of joy to their eyes? My younglings are the source of my greatest joys and sorrows."

Jarvid retook his seat, though Ialin remained on the floor. He rubbed his naked, dimpled chin. "An interesting point, worth consideration. I could discuss that with the king's brother. Perhaps Prince Hardin and His Majesty would he willing to work out an arrangement with widows and orphans, those with unwanted or excessive offspring."

Stunned silent, Ialin remained in place. The enmity between royalty and rebels had gone on too long for meaningful dialogue. The king had long ago made it clear that he would jail or execute any rebel who dared set foot, claw, or wing on the castle grounds. Yet, the rebels might find an ally, albeit a harsh one, in the chamberlain for visiting merchants. Of course, the "compromise" fell far short of acceptable to any but the most conservative of the rebel forces. Most would settle for nothing less than complete freedom when it came to creating families and choosing mates, and Zylas would never consent to what now amounted to an absolute ban on mating for those animals considered undesirable. Ialin had to agree. For now, the kingdom had chosen to breed out only vermin. How long before the prohibition spread to include others the royals found less desirable until whole groups of creatures disappeared from the world forever?

It was an argument Ialin did not have time to make, even if he believed it might prove fruitful. None of this mattered anyway if they managed to liberate the dragons and they could lift the Curse that had so long plagued the world of Barakhai. "Chamberlain Jarvid, I'm afraid I have nothing more to say."

Jarvid nodded as the guards studied him expectantly. Finally, he spoke the words that Ialin hated but needed to hear. "Take him to the dungeon. When court is finished, King Terrin will deal with him." Hegave Ialin a pleading look. "I like you, Draezon. I hope you'll think things through and decide to talk willingly."

Ialin gave no reply as the guards of Opernes Castle led him away.

Chapter 10.

COLLINS buzzed to bleary awareness without any memory of having fallen asleep. He ached all over. Why? A warm tongue ma.s.saged the flesh between the crudely bound tatters of his shirt. Korfius, his mind told him. He opened his eyes to fuzzy grayness. Dusty mucus glued his eyelashes together, and he raised a hand to wipe the mess away. At his movement, the animal stiffened with a high-pitched yelp that ill-suited a hound. Toenails sc.r.a.ped over Collins' already abraded back, and a puppy much smaller than Korfius skittered and tumbled into view. The world followed: a dirty, rocky dreariness that denned the inner reaches of a cave. Memory flooded hack and, with it, panicky understanding. Before he could stop himself, Collins screamed.

The puppy scrambled into retreat, whip-tail tucked between its legs. It ran behind a boulder and disappeared from Collins' sight.

As the sound echoed gradually into silence, Collins cringed at his own stupidity. A terrified shriek of distress. No, that won't attract more carnivores. He turned his attention to his injuries. His back and scalp felt as if someone had slashed them repeatedly against a giant grater. Every breath reminded him of his bruised ribs, and his hip and head throbbed. He had suffered broken bones on his last visit to Barakhai and did not think he had any now, though his left arm sagged. He supposed he might have fractured his collarbone, dislocated his shoulder, or torn some tendons there.