Ширли Мерфи - The Dragonbards

Teb was silent. He knew very well how clever Kiri was at moving in the shadows of palace passages, at losing herself in attics and niches. But he did not like to take her into danger. He felt a strange and unsettling need to protect her.

“I want to go with you.” She touched his face. “All the war against the dark is born of danger. You can’t protect someone. I want to be with you.”

He took her hand and looked up at Colewolf. Colewolf nodded. There is no way one can skirt danger, Tebriel, either here or in Aquervell.

Teb clenched his jaw, very torn. “Kiri—Kiri and I will leave at dusk.”

Thakkur said, ‘The otters will prepare dried fish and roots for your packs.”

Camery put her arm around him. “Will you draw me a map of Windthorst? I haven’t seen it much from the sky, only from horseback—and that so many years ago.”

They got a piece of charcoal from the fire and crowded into Thakkur’s cave, where the stone floor was smooth and pale. Thakkur and Charkky and Mikk were very interested in the map Teb drew. Marshy curled up on Thakkur’s sleeping shelf, absorbing the strategies of war. Hanni had disappeared.

“The mountains curve in deeper here,” Teb said, tracing along the center of the continent. “There is a village here, and the river starts here.”

“We can station mounted troops along the ridge,” Camery said. “In clefts at the foot of the mountains, and along the river.” She smiled. “Seven dragons breathing fire should send Sivich’s army careening into Ebis’s lines like rabbits into a snare.”

Colewolf nodded, his gray eyes alight. He was going to enjoy this operation.

“While we’re routing Sivich’s armies,” Camery said, “rebel troops can come up from our coastal villages to clean out Auric Palace and secure it.” She looked at Charkky and Mikk. “Would you two be willing to ride one of the dragonlings, to rally those troops? From the sky you can follow all the action. You have worked with the coastal folk, and you know the lay of the palace.”

The two otters gawked, their whiskers stiff with excitement. “Hah,” Charkky shouted, “we’ll do that! Oh, yes, we will. We’ll ride a dragon!”

“I’ll get busy on a harness,” Kiri said, nearly laughing at the otters’ excitement.

Mikk twitched his whiskers at her. “We’ll help. We sew very well—Tebriel taught us.”

No one noticed Marshy’s look of annoyance. No one had included him in any plans.

“Are there still winged jackals in the palace?” Camery asked.

Thakkur smiled. “Not anymore. There were, until the wolves went with Charkky and Mikk to clean them out. They fed their bodies to the sharks.”

*

Marshy left Thakkur’s cave before the bards were finished. No one noticed him leave. No one had asked him to help. No one asked what he could do to help, or what he wanted to do. He limped along the top of the cliff, scowling out at the sea. He could see the dragons far away, circling over the water, diving for fish.

They hadn’t asked because they meant to leave him and Iceflower behind, in Nightpool. He kicked at the black stone path. They thought he was too small and Iceflower still too weak. Well, they were wrong. Iceflower was all well now, with Mitta’s potions. And he was a bard, as much as they. He had powers, too. He headed for the meeting cave, filled with anger at the older bards’ unfairness, wanting only to be alone.

He didn’t see Hanni at first, curled up in a little white ball before the mosaic of the white dragon. When he did see the little otter, he went to sit on the dais, beside Hanni. The otter looked up at him, yawning.

Hanni felt worn out after the vision. He had wanted Thakkur to snuggle him close again and make a bed for him in his own cave, but the old otter had been so busy with the bards, with the terrible business of the captive children. Hanni had come back to the sacred cave and curled up on the dais near the sacred clamshell, watching the play of sea light across the walls.

The two youngsters looked at each other.

“They don’t want me to help them,” Marshy said. “They think I’m too little.” He stared at Hanni. “I could help. They will need me.”

“How?” said Hanni sleepily.

“I am the only bard small enough to pass for a slave child. They haven’t thought of that.”

Hanni touched Marshy’s cheek with a soft paw.

“I could pass as a slave,” Marshy said. “I could get them out.” He stared at Hanni. “They think I’m too young and too little, and that is the very thing that makes me just right.”

Hanni looked hard at Marshy, his dark eyes shining. Marshy looked back, sullen and angry. Hanni rose and approached the sacred shell.

The small white otter reared up before the shell and began to mutter in a soft, chittering voice. Soon the surface of the shell grew dark. Dull lights moved deep within, became streaks, then shafts of sunlight falling between cage bars, to touch the faces of children sleeping on a bare stone floor. Dirty, thin children, chained to the bars by their ankles.

When Hanni began to whisper, darkness tumbled across the clamshell. The next scene was from the sky, looking down upon the red-walled palace. They could see the slave cages in the shadowed corner of the courtyard. Yellow-clad soldiers appeared, driving the slaves out behind lashing whips. Marshy saw the dark, pleading eyes of the girl slave looking up in fear, almost as though she knew they were watching.

Suddenly the little otter turned from the clamshell and hunkered down on his belly, his nose tucked under his foreleg, his eyes squeezed shut, and he was shivering. Marshy stood staring, terrified for him.

Thakkur found Marshy on the dais, kneeling over a limp puff of white fur. The old white otter pushed Marshy aside and scooped Hanni up. He stood looking from Marshy to the clamshell.

“So,” Thakkur said.

“He brought a vision,” said Marshy.

“It must have been terrible,” the old white otter said.

“No worse than before.” But Marshy was filled with the hopelessness in the faces of the two slave children.

“Hanni may have seen—or felt—more than you.” Thakkur sat down on the edge of the dais cradling Hanni against him, chittering to the young otter. When Hanni didn’t stir, Thakkur carried him out into the sunlight and along the path to his own cave and disappeared inside.

Marshy stood irresolutely on the ledge, looking toward Thakkur’s cave, then toward the diving dragons. When suddenly the water below the cliff heaved, and Iceflower thrust up through the waves to stare at him, he was very glad to see her.

“You are angry and afraid. Come onto my back.”

Marshy scrambled to her back, and she lifted away from the cliff, over the open sea.

High on the wind, she said, “Now tell me what has happened.”

“It’s the child slaves. I want to go. We can help, but Tebriel will never let us.”

She turned her head to look at him. He stared back into her wide green eyes.

“I could pass as one of the slaves. I could get inside to them.”

“How would you get them out?”

“With Tebriel and Kiri on the outside, I could. But he won’t take me!”

“Have you asked him?”

“He’d only say no. He thinks I’m too small—that you are still too weak. But look how strong you are.”

“Tell Tebriel that.”

“He won’t listen. If they wanted us to help, they would have said so when they were making their plans.”

Iceflower bowed her neck. Their minds joined, secure in the same unfolding thought. She gave him another long look; then they flew higher into cloud, to make their plans.

Chapter 12

I feel complete trust in only a handful of our soldiers. Garit is one. I would trust my life to Garit. It was he who taught the children to ride, who trained their first ponies—he has been like a brother to us.