Dragonbards (11 page)

“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.

In the palaces of the dark, the unliving
replenish their powers by torturing their captives. They sustain
themselves by breaking the human spirit—oh, I pray to the Graven
Light for my children. The unliving must be driven from Tirror.

*

The little owls darted through the
moonlight, leading the dragons over a deep, shadowed chasm. Ahead
rose the mountain, its rocky face pale in the moon’s glow and alive
with giant lizards oozing over its ledges. Lizards were crowded at
the foot of the mountain, too, around the wall of mortared stone
that sealed the monster’s cave. When the dragons dove at them,
spitting flame, the lizards fled.

The dragons settled before the mortared
wall, and the bards slid down and stood looking. The stink of the
monster was like rotten meat. The door at the bottom was just large
enough to herd a few rats through. Next to the wall was the cave
where the rats were kept—the bards could hear them squeaking and
fighting behind the iron door. Two dozen wooden barrels stood
waiting to be filled.

“How do they get the monster out?” Kiri
said.

Teb examined the wall. “Maybe there’s
another way, back in the caves.”

“Whatever that creature is,” Seastrider
said, “it is certainly no dragon. No dragon ever smelled like
that.”

The bards unstrapped the bundles of cadacus
wafers from the dragons’ harness and began to empty them into the
barrels. They sprinkled handfuls of dirt on top, so the wafers
wouldn’t be seen. The rats would stir them up, seeking the smell of
food. As the bards filled the barrels, they could hear stirrings
behind the monster’s wall, as if the creature was snuffling and
scraping along the stone. Suddenly it began to scream. The dragons
leaped at the wall, belching flame.

“Get back,” Teb shouted. “Do you want to
free that thing?” He tried to imagine the shape of the creature,
but it touched his thoughts only as writhing darkness. “Come on.
Before we all throw up.”

Marshy, Kiri, and Teb mounted up, and the
dragons leaped skyward, sucking in fresh air.

They circled the highest peak and found a
lizard cave. When the giant lizards attacked, the dragons killed
them. For over an hour they battled the creatures, pushing the
bodies down the mountain into the ravine. The bards swept lizard
dung and trash from the cave and laid out their gear. Two pairs of
owls went to steal the key to the slave cage and to search for the
bard children. Kiri cleaned Teb’s arm where the jackal had bitten
it; then she put on salve and bound it.

The owls were gone perhaps an hour; then
Theeka and her mate swept in on the wind, to drop onto Teb’s
arm.

“What happened?” Teb said. “Where are Neeno
and Afeena?”

“Ooo, on the wall, Tebriel,” Theeka said.
“Waiting for you. They have the key to the slave cage. It was not
in the larder, ooo-ooo, but deep inside the palace, beside the door
to Quazelzeg’s chambers. Ooo, what a tangled warren of halls.”

“Did you find the children?”

“We could hear children,” Theeka said.
“There were lights in a cellar. Ooo, we heard ugly laughing, and a
child screamed. We tried to get in, but there was not a hole big
enough. We could see the children through a crack. We could not see
the bard children. You will have to use the other plan.”

Kiri glanced at Marshy.

Teb laid a hand on the little boy’s
shoulder. “You can change your mind. No one would think the less of
you.”

“It will be best if I go right away,” Marshy
said. “I’m ready—old clothes, musty smell, and all.” The little boy
squeezed Kiri’s hand and climbed onto Iceflower’s back.

Teb put on the hooded cloak Garit had given
him, like those worn by Quazelzeg disciples. He hugged Kiri and
held her. “You have the rope and the rest of the drugged meat.
Don’t leave here until the owls come for you. It could be a few
hours, it could be tomorrow night.” He cupped her face in his
hands. His look was deep and searching. “It will be all right,
Kiri. Be careful . . . for me.” His eyes darkened, and he
held her to him fiercely. “You . . . it will be all
right.” He held her tight for a long moment, then turned away as if
it were easier to leave her quickly. He leaped to Seastrider’s
back, Theeka and Keetho swept up to his shoulders, and Seastrider
beat up into the night with Iceflower close behind.

Kiri watched dragon and dragonling lift
above her and disappear beyond the mountain. She felt lost, torn
away from Teb, and she was cold with fear for him. Windcaller
stretched out before the cave entrance, watching her. The two owls
who had stayed went inside the cave to grub after insects in the
rough walls. Kiri stood staring at the empty sky for a long time,
trying to be with Teb in her mind. But her vision was stifled by
the closeness of the dark. She strained for any sound, and heard
nothing. At last she turned back into the cave, drank some water,
and lay down with her head on her pack. But her stomach felt empty
with terror. Very soon Teb and Marshy would be alone within the
walls of the unliving. Windcaller said, “You were not afraid all
those years you spied for Dacia.”

“Yes, I was. You didn’t know me then. I was
afraid for myself, and for Papa.”

“Oh,” Windcaller said. “But you did your job
anyway.” She gave Kiri a stern look. “Your fear cannot help Tebriel
and Marshy. Only your strength and your cleverness can. You must
rest and be ready.”

Kiri scowled at Windcaller and closed her
eyes, knowing she couldn’t rest.

*

As Seastrider and Iceflower circled above
the palace, the only movement in the courtyard was the shadows
thrown by the torches, leaping across the still bodies of the
jackals. The dragons dropped to the wall, left Teb and Marshy
there, and banked away toward the mountain, out of sight.

Teb looped his rope over a spike and went
down, his hand never far from his sword. Marshy swung down close
behind. They moved toward the slave cage, skirting the drugged
jackals. Inside the cage, the children were a dark mass of sleeping
bodies huddled close together. Neeno swooped down from the top of
the cage and laid the key in Teb’s hand. Teb unlocked the gate, and
they slipped in, to search, staring into sleeping faces.

They searched for a long time. The two bard
children were not there. A dozen chains hung empty. Marshy chose
one, and they tried the key to make sure. Yes, the same key
unlocked both gate and chains. Marshy locked the steel cuff around
his ankle. Teb left him, locked the gate behind him, and passed the
key in to Marshy. Marshy hung it on a cord around his neck,
underneath his clothes, and settled down in a position of sleep. If
he didn’t use the key, if they were still there at dawn, Afeena
would return the key to the palace before the dark soldiers
woke.

Teb followed Afeena’s faint flutter as she
led him to the outbuilding she had chosen. There, she dropped to
his shoulder, to speak softly.

“Neeno and I will be on the roof above you.
We will wake you if they bring the children back, or
. . . if there is need.”

Teb ducked inside and settled down against
some barrels, listening for the first stirrings of the jackals. He
had an ugly picture in his mind, of a jackal flying up to snatch a
little owl from roof or wall. He had not dared drug the creatures
enough to leave them asleep when Quazelzeg’s soldiers came out at
dawn. From his position in the shed he could see part of the
courtyard and the slave cage.

He did not mean to sleep. He dreamed of
Thakkur, and felt his love powerfully, and then his admonition,
Take care, Tebriel—take care
. . . He woke to a
fluttering “Ooo-ooo” that jerked him from sleep with his hand on
his sword.

“Shh, Tebriel.” Afeena fluttered before him
in the graying darkness. “They are coming to take the slaves to the
fields. The two bard children were in the cellar! They are being
brought up to the courtyard now.”

“Did you return the key?” “I did.”

Teb pulled his loose cloak over his sword,
moved back among the tools, and knelt beside a wooden plow as if
examining the blade. Soon there were footsteps behind him. He heard
tools being taken up, men’s voices, then, from the yard, the clang
of the metal slave gate. Chains rattled, and a voice barked, “Wake
up, you filth. Get out of there, get in line.”

When there was sufficient commotion in the
toolshed, Teb rose, took up half a dozen hoes, and joined the other
men. The sky was a flat, heavy gray. The guards were featureless
black shadows within their hooded cloaks.

The slave children were marched toward the
fields, the limping ones slapped along by the guards. Teb could not
see Marshy. The procession was flanked by growling jackals that had
come awake irritable and snapping. As it grew lighter, Teb
pretended to cuff the children, and he swore at them in a low,
angry growl, mimicking the other guards.

On their left lay fields of cadacus plants,
waist high and heavy with pods. The sky was growing lighter. But
the woods on his right were still thick with shadow. He saw Marshy
ahead, stumbling along in a group of children. He searched for the
boy with red hair and the dark-haired girl and watched among the
trees for the owls. Jackals began to fight among themselves, biting
children as well as each other. Suddenly four small shapes winged
between the shadowed trees, and Teb felt easier. If he or Marshy
was discovered, it would be only minutes until the owls alerted the
dragons. He had no sense of the dragons’ voices in his mind, or of
Kiri.

As half the children were herded into a
field, Teb saw the red-haired boy. The child had stumbled, and a
guard kicked him down into the mud, knocking off the dirty cloth he
had tied around his head. His hair was red as flame. He had a
fresh, bloody wound across his forehead, and his face and arms were
bruised. Teb saw Marshy looking, but when a guard paused, Marshy
felt Teb’s fear and turned back, and began to hoe sullenly. The
guard turned away to snap a cadacus pod off a bush, crack it open,
and lick the dry fibers inside.

Teb moved ahead, keeping his face down. He
looked for the owls but couldn’t see them. A lone jackal was
winging low in the sky, but he knew the owls wouldn’t let
themselves be taunted by jackals. He stood slackly, like the
guards, seeming to stare at nothing as he searched the ranks of
children for the girl. None of the guards paid any attention to
him. The two un-men seemed caught between waking and that silent,
stony staring the unliving did in place of sleep. The rest seemed
simply sullen, or drugged.

Teb couldn’t see the girl. Hardly aware he
was staring at the red-haired boy, he felt the child touch his
mind.

Don’t stare at me—turn away! Who are
you?

Teb reached to hit at a child near him,
turning his back on the bard child.
I’ve come to get you out.
Where is the girl?

In the next field. Don’t trust her.

But she—

Don’t trust her.
The boy went silent
as, ahead of them, guards began herding some of the children
together, teasing them, making them crawl and grovel, then trying
to make them lick the cadacus pods. Some children refused, fighting
with terror. Others took the drug obediently. When the obedient
children groveled, the guards shoved them and laughed. They beat
the children who refused the drugs. Teb watched, feeling sick,
keeping himself still with a terrible effort. Marshy’s silent cry
was pleading,
No, Tebriel—don’t let
them. . . .

The redheaded boy jerked around to stare at
Marshy.

Teb watched, fists clenched. They would risk
everything, they would risk the bard children, if they helped.

We
can’t,
Marshy!

He tried to meet the redheaded boy’s eyes,
but the child’s face had gone closed and stupid. There was another
scuffle, the guards swore, a girl screamed with fury, then voices
were lowered. The guards sent the children back to work. Two
soldiers started down the lane toward Teb dragging a girl between
them.

It was the bard girl, her dark hair tangled
around a pale oval face. She was fighting and shouting. “You
promised! You promised you wouldn’t hurt me!” The soldiers dragged
her toward Marshy, jerked Marshy out of the field, and shoved the
two toward Teb. At once, he was surrounded by guards, their swords
pricking his ribs and throat. When he whistled to signal the owls,
a guard hit him across the face.