Alison Goodman: Eona: The Last Dragoneye

“I am going to be ill,” I said.

As I turned toward the flooded ditch, Vida’s iron grip pulled me around to face the lieutenant. There was no time to object. Doubling over, I retched out a thin stream of water and foul bile at his feet.

Haddo jumped back with disgust. I retched again, bringing up more of the bitter liquid.

“Please, sir, my mistress needs to lie down,” Vida said, the weight of her body edging me toward the man. In reflex, I pushed back. She dug her fingernails into my arm until pain and a sharp pinch bent me over again.

The lieutenant retreated another step, then looked up at his men in the cart. They were both smirking at his discomfort. “Well? Is it clear?”

The man holding the mattress let it drop. “Yes, sir.”

“Then get out of there and let this poor lady rest.”

The men climbed down and, with a salute, returned to the waiting troop.

As they walked out of earshot, Haddo said softly, “Do not be distressed, madam. My own wife had the same kind of sickness … afterward.” He gestured at my white robe. “We found good fortune at the Moon Lady Waters. I’m sure the gods will return your health, too, and favor you with another son.”

I summoned a weak smile.

“Since we are set in the same direction,” he continued, “you and your husband can travel with us to the next village. It will be safer and quicker.”

“That is very generous of you, Lieutenant Haddo,” I said, forcing gratitude into my voice. “But we would not wish to keep you from your duties.”

“My troop is crossing the mountain, anyway,” he said. “And I am sure the gods would want me to assist your pilgrimage. We should reach Laosang village before nightfall.” He bowed and walked away, no doubt to tell my husband of our good fortune.

Vida eyed me as I spat out the last of the bile.

“Next time, don’t fight me,” she murmured, guiding me to the cart.

I longed to shake off her hands, but I was too weak to climb back inside alone. And I had to admit her quick wits had saved the day, if not my dignity. Without missing a beat, she bent to one knee at the back of the cart, the other knee raised — a good maid offering her sick mistress a mounting-step. Although it was tempting, I did not take the opportunity to tread heavily. I crawled onto the pallet and heard Dela trying to reject Haddo’s offer. Every attempt was courteously turned aside; the man was intent on helping us. It seemed our clever ruse had become our trap.

“Well, I am very grateful, sir,” Dela finally said. We had no choice but to accept — blunt refusal would make the lieutenant suspicious. “It will be a relief to have your protection.”

Vida pulled down the back flap, the strain in her face a mirror of my own; every moment we spent in the company of these soldiers could mean discovery. And now we were traveling alongside them.

“Forward, then,” the lieutenant called.

Silhouettes moved along the canopy as the cart jerked into motion. The front hatch slid open and Dela leaned into the cart.

“Are you all right back there, wife?” Her voice was all consideration, but her eyes were fixed on Ryko’s hiding place.

“I will be glad to stop for the night, husband,” I answered.

Dela nodded. We all knew there was nothing we could do for the moment or, indeed, for as long as we were surrounded by Sethon’s men. Ryko would have to stay where he was until darkness gave us some cover to extract him.

Dela cast one more anxious look at the floor, then withdrew.

I rolled onto my side and carefully lifted the edge of the straw pallet, ignoring Vida’s soft hiss of protest. Pressing my cheek against the floor planks, I whispered, “Tonight,” just in case Ryko could hear me over the rumbling of the cart. It was unlikely, but I could not bear to think of him in that tiny space with no idea of what was happening or when he would be able to escape.

I fell onto my back as another rise of nausea soured my throat. Near my feet, Vida was stuffing the mess of food boxes and bedding back into the traveling baskets.

“Here,” she whispered, passing me a fresh flask of water. “You need to rest. Drink a little, but take it slowly or you’ll vomit again. It is like you have been hit hard on the head, and there is no remedy for that, except rest.”

“You knew I’d be sick out there?”

She shrugged.

No sympathy, but what did I expect? A tentative sip of water made my stomach churn. I replugged the flask and nodded my thanks, but Vida had already turned away. I was still the killer of her friends. I stared up at the cloth canopy, searching for thoughts that would not bring guilt or fear. It was a futile effort.

At first, I could only think of the soldiers around us, and Ryko trapped beneath me. Then came the ghosts of those I had killed. I tried to push away the stark image of the Beseecher crushed under the fisher house roof, but his lifeless face became every face in my mind: men swept away by roiling seas, women buried in their houses, children torn and bloodied.

I took a shuddering breath, hoping to clear my mind of such grim imaginings. Instead, I saw my dying master convulsing in my arms, Lord Tyron beheaded on the road like a traitor, and the terrifying moment when I knew Lord Ido had slaughtered the other ten Dragoneyes and their young apprentices. So much death, and most of it in the name of Ido’s ambition. Even the villagers had been killed by his power as much as mine.

Why did Ido save me? Ryko was right; Ido did nothing without some gain for himself. If he was still after my power, he could have had it at the fisher house; I had been defenseless. I shuddered, remembering the first time he had forced his way into my mind, during the King Monsoon test. He had not only taken over my power, but my body, too. Yet this time he did not try to take either. Perhaps Ido was truly a changed man. Still, I would not gamble on his transformation: darkness was woven too tight into his nature. It was more likely he was trying to force an obligation upon me — to save him from Sethon. Did he really think I would risk my life to rescue the man who had killed my master and the other Dragoneyes?

“Laon, take your team and fan out to the south.” It was Haddo’s voice, near the front of the cart. “Sen, your team goes north. Remember, there is no bonus if the young Dragoneye lord is hurt in any way. The emperor is not fussy about the others. Corpses will do.”

I heard Vida’s soft intake of breath. When I looked across, she was staring at the canopy, face drained of all color. Her eyes flicked to mine — a fleeting admission of fear — then she straightened her shoulders and continued stacking our belongings in the traveling baskets.

Beneath my sleeve, I stroked the folio with its rope of guardian pearls and sent a prayer to Kinra: Keep us safe . The gems shivered and clicked, but this time I found no comfort in their tight embrace.

IT WAS DARK by the time our cart lurched to a standstill in the courtyard of the Laosang village inn. The sudden lack of noise sharpened the sounds around us: Haddo ordering his men to their billeting duties, the low of our hungry oxen, and the clang of kitchen pots. Soft yellow light edged the canopy and brought more detail into the cart. Vida had wedged herself upright between two of the larger traveling baskets. Her pale face was hollow from exhaustion. Throughout the long day, I had been lulled into uneasy naps by our slow swaying progress and the patter of intermittent rain on the canopy. Vida, however, had made a point of staying awake the whole time. I scrubbed at my eyes, strangely irritated by her stoicism.

The front hatch slid open and Dela peered in at us.