Timothy Zahn - Dragon and Slave

The dragon rearranged himself, and Jack felt the familiar sensation as he leaned out over the wall again. It was an awfully handy trick, that, as Jack had learned many times already. Too bad the dragon couldn't carry anything over the wall with him. If he could lean far enough outside to unlock the door, they'd be out of here in nothing flat.

But no. The dragon couldn't actually reach outside. All he could do was stretch far enough to look around.

He was certainly doing a lot of that right now. Jack could feel the sensation on his back shifting back and forth as the dragon hunted for a good spot to put their mousehole. He could feel Draycos stretching to the limit—

And then, suddenly, the dragon was gone.

Not shifted. Not moved somewhere else on Jack's skin. Gone. Lost somewhere in the fourth dimension.

Dead.

A breath caught like broken glass in Jack's throat. "Draycos!" he gasped.

And then, to his astonishment and relief, the dragon's voice came faintly through the wall. "It is all right," he said. "I am here."

Jack let his breath out in a huff. "Don't do that to me," he snapped. "Where are you?"

"I am outside," Draycos said. "I apologize for frightening you."

"You'd better apologize," Jack growled. "Why didn't you tell me you could do that?"

There was a slight pause. "Because I did not know I could," Draycos said. "In fact, I did not even know that it was possible."

Jack opened his mouth. Closed it again. "What do you mean, you didn't know it was possible?"

"To the best of my knowledge, no K'da has ever done such a thing," Draycos said.

"I believe we have made history tonight, Jack."

A bad taste was starting to collect at the back of Jack's throat. "I don't like this, Draycos," he said. "You can call it making history if you want. I call it something going wrong."

"In what way?"

"I don't know," Jack told him. "But the last couple of times you looked over walls you felt sort of loose. Like you were getting ready to slide off or something."

"Which is precisely what has just happened."

"Yes, I understand that," Jack said. "What I'm wondering is if my body is rejecting you or something. Like sometimes a person rejects an organ transplant."

There was another silence from outside. "That has also never happened in the history of my people," Draycos said. "If a species can serve as host, that ability does not change." "Only you've never tried humans as hosts before," Jack pointed out darkly.

"Who knows what quirks we might have?"

"True," Draycos admitted reluctantly. "Still, there is little we can do about it."

"Except maybe think about where we can find another host to have waiting on standby," Jack said. "If it ever happens that you can't attach to me, you've only got six hours before you die."

"I remember, thank you," Draycos said. "But for now, we still have a mission to accomplish. Can you pass the key under the door?"

"Sure," Jack said, pulling open his shoe flap and digging it out. "Do you feel sick or injured or anything?"

"I appear to be unharmed," Draycos said. "It felt very strange at the time, though."

"I'll bet," Jack grunted, sliding the key out through the narrow gap. "Here."

"I have it."

Jack hunched his shoulders to stretch them. Only now, as he waited, did it suddenly occur to him that all their work and cleverness might be for nothing.

The key he'd stolen had been to the slave hotboxes; but there was no guarantee that the frying pan didn't have a different lock entirely.

And then there came a click, and the door swung open, letting in a rush of fresh air.

Jack let out a breath. "Okay," he said, trying to sound casual. "Well. Let's get to work."

The first job was to see if they could fix the door so that Draycos could get in and out the usual way. Or at least, the usual way for poet-warriors of the K'da.

Fortunately, it turned out to be easier than Jack had feared. The extra slab of wood that had kept him from sliding his hand outside turned out to be a simple add-on, attached to the bottom of the door frame with three nails.

With the door closed above it, the nails were impossible to reach. With the door open, though, it was simple. At Jack's direction, Draycos used his claws to pry up the slab. The three nails came up with it, and Jack had him slice them off so that they were even with the wood.

Now, when the slab was back in position, it looked as solidly in place as if it were still nailed there. It even fit tightly enough against the frame on both sides that a slight bump wouldn't knock it loose. But with a little pressure, Jack could push it out to drop onto the ground outside.

"Or I can take it in with me and slide it back into position from inside," he explained to Draycos as he tested the fit. "Either way, the Brummgas will never have a clue."

"Unless they try pushing on the slab themselves," Draycos pointed out thoughtfully. "Tell me, where are the ends of the nails I cut off?"

"Uh..." Jack glanced around. "Here they are," he said, picking the three pointy ends off the ground. "I was going to toss them into the bushes."

"Give them to me," Draycos said. "Then lift the slab out of the way."

Jack did so. Draycos delicately shoved the nail points back into the holes where they'd originally been, pressing them into place with his claws. "There," he said. "Now if anyone examines them, they will conclude the nails simply rusted through and broke."

"Maybe," Jack said doubtfully. "They don't look all that rusted to me."

"It will take a close examination to show the truth," Draycos said. "They are not likely to have the time—"

He broke off, his ears twitching around toward the house. "Someone is coming," he said quietly. "Not a Brummga."

Carefully, Jack peeked around the side of the frying pan. There was a figure coming toward them, all right, silhouetted against a crack of light from the open kitchen door. Definitely too small for a full-sized Brummga.

Her Thumbleness?

"Inside," Jack hissed, ducking back around the front. Draycos was holding the door open; scooping up the wooden slab, Jack scrambled inside. The dragon eased the door closed, and as Jack poked his hand through the opening he heard a soft click as Draycos locked the door. A second later the key came sliding through the gap, followed by a brief weight on Jack's outstretched hand as the dragon came aboard.

There wasn't enough time to hide the key in his shoe. Instead, he shoved it out of sight beneath the copper mesh behind him. Even if Her Thumbleness had come to drag him back to one of her games, Gazen would probably toss him back in here as soon as she got tired of him again. He could hear the footsteps approaching.

"Jack?" a familiar voice called. "Are you in there?"

He felt Draycos twitch. So the dragon was surprised, too. "Yes, I'm here, Lisssa," Jack called back. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you think I'm doing?" Lisssa countered disgustedly. "I'm Her Thumbleness's newest art project."

Jack winced. "I'm sorry," he said, and meant it. Bad enough to be dressed up in a clown suit and made to perform magic tricks. Having to stand there while Her Thumbleness gleefully ran a paintbrush over your body would be ten times worse.

"When did you get here?"

"They came and got me this morning," Lisssa said. "That Wistawk—Heetoorieef—told me they'd put you in here."

"They did it twice, actually," Jack said, rubbing at the bruises on his ribs.

"You'd better get back before she misses you."

"Not a problem," Lisssa said. "Her Thumbleness is having a long bath in that swamp off her room. Are you hungry or anything?"

Actually, he was starving, now that she mentioned it. "I'm okay," he said.