Mary Herbert - Dragon's Bluff

The Knight Officer was breathing heavily, her face cold with anger.

“Release her,” Lucy told the turban. Like a whisper, it unwound from the Knight’s head, flowed back to Lucy’s arm, curled up on her chestnut hair, and stared malevolently at Venturin.

The Dark Knight shook her head as if to be sure the thing was gone. She studied Lucy for a long moment and glanced back at the street where her Knights had been. Finally she picked up her dagger and shoved it back in its sheath. “All right. Ten percent.” Venturin’s mercenary bent took over. “And if you so much as bruise one of my Knights, I’ll burn this town myself.”

“Seven,” countered Lucy. “With luck you won’t have to go far.”

“Eight will buy my silence about this little affair.”

“So will fear, but it’s a deal.”

“How do I know you are not lying about all of this?”

“You don’t. But what is there to lose? If our plan fails, you go to Malys about Fyremantle. We will provide the information you need and the location of his lairs. You will have done your duty in bringing a malefactor to her attention. If we succeed, you will be rich.”

“Where is this alleged money coming from?”

“Ah,” Lucy said with a slight smile. “We can’t tell you everything.”

The Dark Knight shot a quick look at the turban, then she turned on her heel and strode to her horse.

“Be here at dawn on Visiting Day,” Lucy called after her.

Venturin did not respond. Stone-faced, she collected the reins of the loose horses and mounted her own. She spurred her mount to a canter and led the riderless cavalcade away. The sound of hooves pounded on the road and dwindled away toward the west end of town.

Lucy leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. As the dust settled, the workers warily poked their heads out from the windows, doors, and ruinous gaps of the old buildings.

Challie came out the doorway of a gaming house several blocks down the road and joined Lucy. A faint smirk tilted up her mouth. “They’re trussed like chickens and spitting mad. Lysandros’s men have the Knights in a safe room under the Game Cock. He says his guards will keep an eye on them.”

The sheriff grinned, remembering the look on Venturin’s face when she realized her Talon had vanished. “That should sour her wine for a while.”

Challie picked up a shovel and drove it into the dirt. “I just hope this works, because if it doesn’t, there’s going to be some dragon-sized trouble.”

The paddleboat arrived later than expected. It came chugging into the harbor under full steam, pulling a laden raft and aided by teams of powerful, sleek dolphins. Ulin saw Lucy and Challie standing on the wharf and waved to them. He was off the boat and running toward Lucy before the boat had come to a complete stop.

Lucy took one look at the eagerness on his tired, haggard face and melted into his arms. “Oh, thank goodness, you’re here,” she gasped. “I was getting so worried.”

“Hello to you, too.” Kethril strode up the dock. “We got the treasure. It’s all there—every chest, box, and bag. We cleaned out the lot. We’d better hurry if we’re going to unload it.”

Lucy’s face took on a look of wary determination. “Oh, no, not you. You come to the Jetties with me.” She took her father’s arm and steered him toward the wharf.

“Daughter, you wound me with your mistrust,” he said mournfully.

“The Magistrate, Notwen, and the dwarves are going to handle this one,” she said. “Ulin, are you coming?”

He nodded wearily. “We need some food, then we’re going to get to work on Notwen’s trap. We didn’t expect to take so long.”

The three of them began the long walk to the Jetties. Behind them, the chugging sound of the steam engine filled the small harbor as the boat cast off and headed for whatever place Challie and Notwen decided to hide the dragon’s cache.

Walking between the two men, Lucy looked at them carefully and saw that both of them were dirty, tired, and worn. Kethril’s expensive robes were gone, replaced by an old tunic and tattered pants that had seen a great deal of work but very little soap. Her father was limping slightly, and Ulin moved as if every muscle hurt. She did not ask any questions, keeping them to herself until she could get the two men to the Jetties, seat them at a table, and bring them a pitcher of ale. Aylesworthy took one look at them and yelled at Bridget to bring platters of stew and freshly baked bread.

While the two men ate, Lucy and Aylesworthy curbed their impatience. Lucy told the innkeeper the treasure had been secured, but both of them wanted to hear about the dragon’s lair and the theft.

At last Ulin pushed his ale aside and asked for wine. When it was brought, he stretched out his long legs and took a long, appreciative sip.

“So?” Lucy prompted. “What happened at Fyremantle’s lair?”

“It wasn’t technically a lair,” Kethril answered. “It was only a stash of his stolen goods. He could not keep it at his known lair for fear of Malys finding it.”

Ulin chuckled and glanced at the gambler with something akin to respect. “Your father may be a thief, a gambler, and a morally poor example of a man,” he told Lucy, “but he has courage, imagination, and a lot of gall. His observations of the hiding place were accurate up to the small matter of booby-traps.”

“Booby-traps?” Lucy and Aylesworthy said together.

Pulling the map out of his tunic, Ulin tapped a finger on the spot marked Secar’s Point . “The stash was exactly where the map is marked, in a dormant volcano just to the west of the Point. It was down in an old volcanic tube that you could not see unless you were standing right on top of it. Malys would never have seen it from the air. We would never have found it if Kethril hadn’t known where it was. He was right, too, about the guards. There were none. I guess Fyremantle didn’t trust anyone with the location of his secret hoard.”

Some of the other customers in the inn, hearing Ulin’s voice, moved their chairs closer to listen to the tale. Aylesworthy hurriedly refilled Ulin’s wine goblet.

“We arrived at the Point shortly after sunset and hid Notwen’s boat in a small cove. At daybreak, we hiked up to the volcano to find the cave and determine what was needed to remove the treasure.”

“Fyremantle was there,” Kethril interrupted him. “That greedy little worm was adding to his stash from taxes collected at one of the Khur settlements. He stayed there all day, counting and gloating. It was disgusting.” He broke off and saw Lucy, Ulin, and Aylesworthy staring at him. “What?”

“You’re a fine one to talk about counting and gloating,” Lucy said.

Ulin took up the tale again. “We had to wait until Fyremantle left before we could enter the cave. One of the Vigilance fighters found the first booby-trap when he tried to open the stone that blocks the entrance. A cloud of acid burned his lungs and ate his skin. His death was slow and agonizing. That made us think twice about moving too quickly, so we waited until the next day when we could use the daylight to help us see. It was a good thing we did. Once we got the stone door open, we found the tube was infested with cave lizards.” He stopped and shuddered. “I don’t know if you’ve ever seen one, but they’re nasty creatures. These were about three feet long, mottled gray, and very aggressive. They scooted over the ceiling of the tube and were on us before we even knew they were there. They use their long tongues to grab a victim and pull him in range of their teeth. One of those lizards isn’t too difficult to beat off, but five or six of those things chewing on your arms or legs is very frightening. They almost killed one of the dwarves before we got to him.”