Mickey Reichert - The lost Dragons of Barakhai

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 anticipated 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 amusement. "Of course not, but who else could afford to pay you what 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 pass 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 anticipated its failure. The assault 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 gods, 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 assisted him with. If the royals discovered his true identity, 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 spaced bars would easily allow a hummingbird passage. "I never intended to hurt anyone, nor have I. I just wanted to make sure you didn't either."