Mary Herbert - Dragon's Bluff

“What did you do?” Lucy asked, wide-eyed.

“Light,” Ulin replied. “They hate light. The sunlight drove them from the entrance and I used some magnesium flashpowder in the interior.”

“The tube is quite long,” Kethril added. “And there were scorpions and several pitfalls and a sand trap. Fyremantle was taking no chances. It was hours before we finally found the chamber where he hid his stash. We worked for a full day to neutralize the booby-traps, crate up the goods, and haul it out of there. By the time we finished, there wasn’t so much as a coin to toss to the lizards. It was a beautiful operation,” he finished enthusiastically. Like most thieves, he enjoyed a good heist.

Ulin gave Lucy a slow weary smile. “It was a successful attempt. Except for Lysandros’s man and the wounded dwarf, we got out of there with little injury or loss.”

“So what do we do now?” Aylesworthy asked as he topped off Ulin’s wine.

Lucy looked at her father and her betrothed and said, “Sleep. We can work tomorrow.”

“No, no. I need to help Notwen,” Ulin said, but he made no move to stand up.

“He probably needs sleep as much as you. I will go check on him. Aylesworthy, if you could see these two to bed, I would appreciate it.”

“Absolutely, Miss Lucy.”

Kethril started to argue, but the food, the ale, and the lack of sleep finally caught up with him. He sagged back in his chair and grinned at nothing. “It was a good heist,” he murmured.

The eve of Visiting Day came on a brisk wind and a warm sun. While the kender prepared for the picnic and festivities, the Vigilance Force set quietly about removing the elderly, the lame, the sick, and the younger children to safe camps in the dusty hills. The number of sentinels on the Rock and around the town was doubled. Most of the fishing boats moved out into the bay and sailed east for the open waters of the sea, leaving behind a few older and damaged boats tied at the docks. Traveling merchants, visiting Khurs, and other transients quickly abandoned the town, as did a few dozen of the permanent residents.

Those who remained swallowed hard and went to work creating a new festival ground on the south side of town around the large area of bare ground where the large hole had been dug. The hole was prepared and filled in now, and Notwen’s dragon trap was carefully camouflaged among the abandoned buildings. In and around the open street and buildings the men scythed the scrubby grass and the weeds and cleaned out the debris. They put in a large fire pit at the edge of the trap, and at Notwen’s direction, the women set out trestle tables over the tamped earth of the excavation. The plan, he said, was to lure the dragon between the buildings and onto the trap. Other folks cooked food and hung lanterns and decorations of flowers, dried grasses, and ribbons. Two large oxen were butchered and left to roast overnight in the fire pit. The smell of roasting meat soon filled the town, and Lucy thought that alone would distract Fyremantle and lure him from his perch on the Rock.

Meanwhile, Ulin and Notwen remained hidden in Notwen’s laboratory, poring over plans and working on concoctions only they could understand. The trap was as ready as they could make it, but they spent hours double-checking figures and thinking of more ways to slow the huge beast.

Lucy retreated to her room and spent that evening perfecting half a dozen spells until she could cast them in her sleep. Most of them were spells she had done years ago at the Academy. A few were new ones she devised to protect herself or others from the dragon, and one was a special spell Ulin asked her learn. Her spellcasting was flawless, but to her dismay, even with the help of the turban, the spells went awry or failed more than half the time. Exhaustion finally forced her to stop, but she was frustrated at her failures and deeply worried. She could not afford to fail tomorrow when the red dragon appeared for his tribute.

Challie woke her the next morning with a mug of cooled cider and two hard-boiled eggs. “There’s more if you want it, but if your stomach is like mine, you won’t be able to eat it.”

Lucy quickly found Challie was right. As soon as she got out of bed and went to the small table, the enormity of their task for that day sank in its claws and twisted her stomach into knots. She drank the cider, ate one egg, and had to give up. “Do you want the other?” she offered.

Challie shook her head. “I’ve tried to eat, too, and can’t. Bridget is in the kitchen fixing these enormous meals, and no one can eat them. Even Cosmo is off his feed.”

The dwarf sat on the edge of her chair, twisting her hands. She wore the blue tunic and baggy pants that made up her uniform, and her silver axe hung at her belt, but her face was pale, and the dark blue of the tunic only enhanced the dark circles around her eyes. “Lucy, I’m nervous,” she admitted. “I never thought I’d admit this, but that dragon terrifies me. I have never been so close to a dragon before. What if I can’t do what I am supposed to do?”

Lucy stood by her friend’s chair. “I know,” she said. “All of us are terrified. I won’t hold you to this, Challie. If you want to leave, one of the Fox’s men can take you to one of the camps in the hills.”

“No,” the dwarf said vehemently. “I will not run. I made an oath to serve you and this town, and I will, but … I will be very glad when this is all over.”

Lucy couldn’t agree more. To occupy her mind, she put on her clothes, meticulously brushing the dust from her pants and tunic, donning everything so it all hung just right. She fastened her belt around her waist and slid her dagger scabbard to her right side. Her leather boots slid on easily, and she tucked her pants’ legs into the soft cuffs. Last of all, she picked up the turban from its resting place on the table and gently set it on her head. The moment when the creature returned to its preferred place never failed to amaze her. It wrapped itself happily about her chestnut hair like a cat snuggling into its bed for a nap, and the pleased mental thoughts of its consciousness settled around her in a comforting aura. Taking a deep breath, she half-bowed to Challie, and the two of them left the inn to face the day together.

Shortly after sunrise, the familiar figure of Knight Officer Venturin was spotted riding along the road into town. A sentry quickly steered her to the festival site where the sheriff was waiting for her. When she reached the street, she slowed her horse and looked around in surprise at the picnic preparations.

Lucy barely nodded to her as she handed Venturin a packet. “It’s all there: a map, tax records, and signed statements. Keep riding until our messenger catches up to you. I will not reveal your name to Fyremantle, but keep the information in case you need it in the near future.”

Venturin glowered down at her from the saddle. “My men?”

Lucy whistled loudly and pointed down the street. From the Game Cock, two men led a Dark Knight out the door. It was quite obvious, even from a distance, that he had been enjoying himself. He waved drunkenly to his commander. “As you can see, they’re fine.”

“Who is this messenger? How will he be able to catch up with me?”

“The messenger is on loan from a friend. It is a hawk, specially trained to deliver messages. It will find you.”

“One of the Silver Fox’s?” Venturin demanded. “Is he involved in this?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“I’m not surprised.” The Dark Knight snatched the packet from Lucy’s hand. “Don’t try to cross me, Sheriff.” She spurred her horse around and galloped southeast toward the Desolation.

Mayor Efrim had told Lucy that the tax collection in Flotsam usually occurred around midafternoon on Visiting Day. Fyremantle collected the taxes from several places and usually needed the day to cover all his obligations. This day, they hoped, would not be different.