The Dragonbards

Chapter 13

Those who enslave our nations come from other worlds. What creatures might they bring through to help them?

*

“What is it?” Teb asked. “What frightens you? We know there is danger in Aquervell, but you look . . .” He watched the owls shifting uneasily. And what could frighten these great cats, who were such courageous fighters?

Neeno folded his wings close to his body, and looked back at Teb with round, serious eyes. “Quazelzeg has brought a monster into Aquervell, from some distant world.”

“Ooo-ooo, something terrible,” said his mate, Afeena. “A monster from beyond the Doors.”

“What kind of monster?” Teb said.

“We don’t know,” said Afeena.

“No one has seen it,” said Neeno. “It is locked in a cave in the old quarry.” The little gray owl sat rigid. “Quazelzeg’s soldiers have sealed the entrance with boulders. They feed the monster through a hole at the bottom. Oooo, its smell is so vile that even the winged jackals will not go near—though the guard lizards do; they are drawn to the stink. We can hear the monster through the wall of boulders, scrabbling at the stone.”

“We can hear it breathe,” said Afeena. “We can hear its screams when it feeds. In another cave, behind iron doors, they raise the food for it.”

“What is the food?” Teb said.

“They raise rats for it,” said Afeena. “Thousands and thousands of huge rats, each as big as six of us. They chase them into barrels and roll the barrels to the creature’s cave door. They pull only one stone away, and chase the rats through by banging on the barrel.”

“Ooo-ooo, it must be immense,” said Neeno, “the number of barrels full of rats it eats.”

“When do they feed it?” Kiri asked.

“In the morning,” Neeno said. “At first light.” The tiny owl walked around Kiri’s tea mug and flew to perch on her shoulder. When Elmmira, sitting close to Kiri, lifted her nose to the owl, he rubbed his beak against the tan cat’s whiskers.

“Where is the quarry?” Teb said.

Garit took a clay pot from a shelf and poured fine white sand onto the hearth for mapmaking. With a dulled arrow from his quiver, he began to draw the coastline of Aquervell, the city and harbor, the palace north, the old quarry beyond. North of that lay a newer, open quarry, below the mountain where the big flanged lizards lived. At the foot of the mountain was the cave of the monster.

Neeno said, “The monster’s cave is perhaps a mile north of the palace. The slave children are caged in the palace courtyard. They are kept mind-dulled with cadacus.”

Teb nodded. “And it is with cadacus that we will free them.”

The owls’ eyes widened.

“We will drug the monster,” Teb said, “and drug the winged jackals that guard the palace.”

“And how will you avoid Quazelzeg’s soldiers?” Garit said.

“Let’s hope the human ones are sufficiently drugged on their own—and hope all of them are in the middle of their orgies. How many slave children are there?”

“Maybe thirty,” said Neeno. “Ooo, maybe more.”

“We’ll help any way we can,” Garit said. “We have plenty of cadacus from King Sardira’s stores. We can work it into raw meat for the jackals.”

“Well need a barge,” Teb said, “to get the children away. The dragons can’t carry so many.”

“We’ll have a barge,” Garit said, “when and where you say. And wagons to meet it.”

“Off the tip of Aquervell. From the night we leave until . . . until we meet you.”

“How will we drug the monster?” Kiri said.

“We’ll drug the rats they feed it,” said Teb. “They should like cadacus cakes.”

Garit woke three of the ladies who helped in the palace kitchen. They came out yawning, to set about making a paste from flour and water, well laced with the white drug. They spread this out on boards to dry, while the bards prepared drugged meat for the jackals. The next morning, the drugged wafers were cut into squares and packed into two leather bags. It was dawn when they were finished. Musty old clothes had been found for all of them. The owls said the winged jackals sniffed everyone, and that was the smell they were used to.

Neeno chose four owls to fly with him and Afeena, to serve as messengers. The bards could not rely on silent speech, so close to the dark powers.

“The stone gate that closes the palace courtyard is locked at night,” Afeena said. “The lock is made of stone. Quazelzeg sleeps with the key on a chain around his throat. The key to the children’s cage and their chains hangs somewhere in the palace, perhaps the scullery.”

The bards meant to leave Dacia just at dark, to come down over Aquervell late enough so Quazelzeg and his captains would have turned their thoughts to their evening’s entertainment. They made two plans, both depending on Neeno and Afeena. If the two bard children were in the outdoor cage, the dragons had only to melt the bars. They would be out of Aquervell within an hour.

If the bard children were not there, the owls would slip into the palace beneath a loose shutter and steal the key, and Marshy would be locked in, chained among the slaves with the key in his pocket. He would wait there until the bard children were returned, then release them. If they were not returned, the plan grew more difficult.

“How do we know there will be extra chains?” Kiri said.

“There are always extra chains,” Neeno said. “Many children die there.”

As we could die, Kiri thought. She could see the worry in Gram’s eyes, but Gram always smiled brightest when she was concerned. The great cats were very quiet as they rubbed against them in a gentle farewell. The cats would leave at dark for Nightpool, to join the other speaking animals in the raid on Sivich.

Garit said, “You promised me once, Tebriel, that I would be with you when you took Auric Palace.”

“But I won’t be there, either.” Teb cuffed Garit’s shoulder. “I’ll make it up to you. You’ll be back in Auric one day, training colts and youngsters there.” He hoped nothing happened to Garit, waiting on that lonely barge.

When the bards loaded their bundles onto the dragons’ harness, both Seastrider and Windcaller complained that they felt like pack horses. Iceflower and Marshy remained silent. They carried no extra weight, only six small owls who, all together, couldn’t weigh a full pound.

The dragons rose into the evening sky, the owls clinging to Marshy’s shoulders, their feathers blown back. They stared up with awe at the dragon’s huge, beating wings.

A thin moon was beginning to rise; the sky was not yet dark. Before long they could see Aquervell, a wide black smear of land spreading across the pale sea. The wind grew cold. The little owls huddled down inside Marshy’s tunic. By the time they reached Aquervell’s coast, the sky felt like ice. The harbor lay below, dimly lighted. When we leave Aquervell, Teb said, we’ll burn the ships, to keep them from following us. Beyond the harbor, Quazelzeg’s castle rose into the night sky, lit by torches set along the high wall.

Pray that the children are in the cage, Teb said.

I am praying. As they circled, Kiri looked down at the slave cages and the little heaps of blackness huddled inside. The jackals stared up at them from the courtyard and the wall, their wings spread for attack. Teb undid a bag of the drugged meat. As Seastrider dove, he dropped the pieces into the courtyard. The moment the jackals smelled it, they began snarling and fighting over it, their inky shapes thrashing among the shadows. When two jackals flew up at Seastrider, she spit flame at them. They dropped back, but others came. Teb knocked them away. He didn’t want to use his sword, and have them dead or wounded for Quazelzeg to see. One grabbed his arm and hung on. He hit it in the face, then pulled its jaws open. It fought him, twisting in the air. He freed his arm and threw the beast down to the pavement, clenching his teeth with the pain of the bite. The owls hissed and dove around him.

“The drug is beginning to work,” Afeena said. “They are beginning to stagger.”

“Did you find the bard children in the cage?” Teb said.

“No,” Neeno said. “We did not.”

“Look again. The boy has red hair, the girl is dark.”

“Yes, Tebriel. You told us.” They dove away, but returned shaking their heads. “We do not think they are there.”

Seastrider dove. Teb slipped from her back to the wall, slung his rope over the spikes, and dropped down to the courtyard. In deep shadow, he moved along the cage, looking in. He didn’t want to whisper—children trained to drugs could not be trusted. He searched the cage for some time. He could see the children well enough in the torchlight to know the owls were right. The two bards were not there.

Were they in the cellars? He could slip into the palace. There was not a stir of life, no human guard. It would be easy.

Yes, and foolish, Seastrider said. Your anger must not make you foolish.

She was right. A foolish risk, with too much at stake. But he burned to go, burned for action, burned with hatred of the dark. He went along the cage again, then swung to Seastrider’s back as she lifted straight up with a powerful sweep of wings, to join the others.

Kiri knew Teb’s hand was hurting where the jackal had torn it; she could feel the pain making him irritable. She was seared by his impatience that the children weren’t in the cage, and by his terrible hatred of the dark. It frightened her to see him so angry—that kind of hatred could lead him into some fatal mistake. And the plan they must now use would put Teb and Marshy alone, among the soldiers of the unliving.