One Realm Beyond (40 page)

Cantor had hidden under one of the coaches. Just after he’d gotten settled, two of the men came and sat down less than a yard from where he’d folded himself behind a long tuft of grass. He could hear their conversation well enough, and what they said was of great interest. But he feared if they stopped gabbing for a minute, they’d be able to hear him breathe.

Another man came by with small loaves of bread, bowls of stew, and a couple of bottles of foul-smelling spirits. The men guzzled the liquor and downed the meal with the manners of barnyard pigs. Luckily, their slurping and belching covered any noise Cantor might have made.

The bottle must have loosened their tongues as well as warmed them. Cantor listened and congratulated himself on picking the right carriage.

“Hey, Bolar. Do you believe that stuff about dungeons under the realm building?”

“Why wouldn’t I believe it?”

“I sometimes think they tell us those things to make us toe the line. That most of it’s not true.”

“They don’t need stories of torture and endless years in dark holes to keep us in line.”

The first man remained silent.

“You’ve never thought about breaking their trust and running away, have you, Kreeg?”

Again the man was quiet.

“That kind of thinking will get you killed. You know that, don’t you?”

The first man’s answer was barely above a whisper. “I’m tired of being afraid all the time.”

“You’re afraid?”

“Yes, I am. And if you want to say you’re not, go ahead. But I won’t believe you.”

Now the second man took a turn at being quiet. Finally he cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m not stupid enough not to be scared. But there’s nothing for it, Kreeg. We’re stuck.”

“Sometimes I think being in the dark hole would be better than being in the light, working with fear riding on your back.”

“We get paid. We have uniforms and good grub.”

“Listen, Bolar. When was the last time you went someplace just because you wanted to? Like to the market. Or to visit someone.”

“You mean you want to visit Kinni. All this is about Kinni, isn’t it?”

Kreeg didn’t answer.

“We knew when we got chosen — ”

“Taken.”

“All right, taken. We knew when we got taken that
everything before was gone. You can’t go seeing Kinni or anyone without making it dangerous for them.”

“I know. They find out I’ve gone to see Kinni, then they think I told her something to tell someone else. Then she’s dead and I’m dead.”

“Right.”

“But I don’t even know anyone to tell something to. And I don’t know what the something is that I’d be telling.”

“That’s good, Kreeg. It’ll keep you alive.”

“You think the dungeons are real?”

“I know they are.”

“How?”

Bolar looked around, then shrugged his shoulders.

Kreeg poked him. “How do you know they’re real?”

“I saw the door.”

Kreeg lifted his head and surveyed the area around them. Cantor slowed his breathing, willing the tiny puffs of air silent. Kreeg bent his head back to his friend. “Tell me.”

“This morning, the main guard brought in a dragon. She was knocked out. Drugged, I think. When they unloaded her, the cart shifted. One of the guards had his foot under the wheel, and it got smashed. They made me take his place.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true.”

“They had a cart with a drugged dragon in it for all to see?” Kreeg shook his head. “Right, Bolar.”

“No, no. I didn’t say that.”

“You did.”

Bolar wiped his hand down his face. “She was covered up with a tarp.”

“So how’d you know it was a drugged dragon? How’d you know it was a she?”

“Because I went with them. I helped carry her. We came to the door, and we put her down. The tarp slipped and I saw her tail, but I just pretended I didn’t see anything. They told me to go back. I started to walk away, and I heard one of them say she’d never get out of the dungeon.”

Kreeg didn’t speak.

“I know a dragon tail when I see one, Kreeg. And the guard said it was a she.”

“You better forget you saw or heard anything.”

“I forgot it already.”

Silence filled the night air. Kreeg stirred. “Where was that door?”

“Under the bridge, through a tunnel, and into a cellar where they keep stuff for the kitchen. Behind the sacks of flour.”

“I thought you said you didn’t remember.”

“I don’t.”

“I think you do.”

Kreeg made a swift movement. Bolar grunted. Kreeg stood. Bolar fell over. Kreeg wiped his knife in the grass and sheathed it. He picked up the bowls and walked back to the carriages closer to the house.

Cantor’s leg had gone to sleep. He moved out anyway.

TROUBLE, DEEP

C
antor inched up the hill, keeping to the bushes and tall grass. His leg tingled as he approached the top, and he felt he could stand now if he had to. Two small furry creatures sped past him. The second one spoke in a high, raspy voice, but still managed to sound like Bridger. Ahma’s Tom would have barked, but Cantor did not expect Bridger to meow. His dragon seemed to have better control while shifted into another shape.

“Hurry!” said Bridger-cat. “Bixby’s in trouble.”

Cantor stood and hobbled as quickly as he could over the remaining few yards. He flattened himself just before the crest, then rolled to the other side. He studied the decline and spotted movement. Cautiously approaching the nearest bush, he waited to see if these were his friends or an enemy. One form in the shadows looked like a pile of clothing. When he saw two smaller shadows circling and sniffing, he decided the cats had found Bixby. A plaintive moan prodded him to his feet.

As Cantor rushed to Bixby’s side, Bridger transformed into his dragon shape. “It’ll take me a few minutes to get myself big enough to fly with all of you on my back.”

Cantor nodded and knelt beside Bixby. She’d curved herself into a ball and held her head with both hands. Jesha rubbed against her.

He turned Bixby into his arms and cradled her head against his chest. “What happened?” His breath stirred the wild curls on the top of her head. He couldn’t see her face.

“My head. That man! He tried to get into my brain.”

Cantor held her with one arm and struggled to retrieve his water bottle with the other hand. “Here. Drink this.”

Tipping her face up, she took a few sips, but the grimace twisting her face didn’t lessen. “Pour it on my head.”

He dribbled some over her hair and on her neck. She sighed with relief. He gave her another sip.

“Keep pouring,” she begged.

Bridger hovered close by, gradually increasing. “I’m trying to hurry. It takes a while to go from cat to flying dragon size.”

Cantor was about to snap at him for chattering at his back when he realized something. He glanced up at the dragon. “I’m rushing you, aren’t I?”

“You’re radiating urgency like the sun puts out light. A constant, even if a temporary constant, can’t help but feel these things.”

Cantor closed his eyes and took a precious moment to order his thoughts. He needed to work
with
Bridger. Bixby’s life might depend upon it. “Dukmee will have something to heal her.”

Bridger leaned closer. “Do you have a spare cloth?”

Shifting Bixby again, Cantor handed the dragon a washcloth out of the hamper that had held the water bottle.

Bridger took it and trotted down the hill and across a field. When he returned, the rag was soaking wet.

“There’s a stream down in the glade.”

Cantor took the cloth, folded it, and draped it over Bixby’s forehead.

Jesha jumped onto Bridger’s shoulder. The dragon stroked her. “She’s nervous.”

Cantor poured more water into Bixby’s hair, ignoring the cold trickles that ran down his arm where he held her. “Why?”

“Those men are evil. That house has a malevolent air.”

“Did you learn a lot?” Cantor looked up at his friend.

Bridger nodded yes and then wagged his head no. Then shrugged. “Bits and pieces.”

“Me too.” He took off the cloth, turned it over and replaced it with the cooler side down. “Maybe when we get back to the vilta, we can put all the pieces together.”

“I’m almost ready. Can she fly?”

“If I hold on to her. Dukmee will know what to do.”

Bixby moaned. “No, no, no Dukmee.”

Cantor propped her up a bit more. “What’s the matter, Bix? You like Dukmee.”

Her head flopped to one side, then back. “No.”

Bridger frowned. “Has she ever had to drink a healer’s potions?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, that would explain her not wanting to go see Dukmee. His potions are sometimes abominable.” Bridger flapped his wings. “I’m going to make a seat and straps. Then I’ll be ready.”

Cantor realized the dragon had been stretching diligently. He was now the size of an elephant. Jesha sat on his head.

He had to depend on Bridger to get Bixby to safety. “Are you all right? You didn’t do that too fast, did you?”

“I’m fine, but I couldn’t do this over and over without making myself sick. The shifting isn’t hard, but changing sizes is tricky.”

Cantor gently laid Bixby down, stood, and then scooped her up.

“I don’t know how I’m going to climb up there and carry her.”

“That’s no problem. Or I guess it could have been a problem, but I thought of it and so it’s not now. Put her down on my wing, climb up, and I’ll lift her to you.”

Bridger stretched out a wing so the tip rested in front of Cantor.

Cantor followed the instructions. When he was settled, Bridger rolled the tip of his wing over Bixby. As he raised his wing, Bixby slid toward Cantor.

“Be careful!” Cantor unhooked one leg and reached toward the slipping girl. “She’s going catawampus.”

Bridger deftly tilted the wing and corrected her wobbly descent. “Got her?”

“Yes. Wait until I get us situated again.” He pulled his cloak from a hamper and draped it over Bixby’s still form. He put a jacket on, and invited Jesha to come ride in Bixby’s lap. Her furry warmth would help.

When Cantor gave the signal, Bridger jumped into the air and circled higher and higher above the hill.

Cantor watched the scene below grow smaller. He wrapped his cloak tighter around Bixby and Jesha in response to the
chill in the higher air. Now that they flew just below the clouds, he expected Bridger to take off in the direction of the vilta. Instead, he continued to circle.

“Bridger, do you know which way to go to the vilta?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then why are we going in circles?”

“I put a powerful amount of muscle in that wing to lift Bixby. Now I have to balance the pull so we can go straight.”

“Oh, like rowing with only one oar.” Cantor accepted that as a logical outcome. Earlier in their acquaintance, he would have chalked the mishap up to Bridger’s ineptitude. “Did you know that was going to happen?”

“Well, no.” Bridger’s loop became wider. “But I’ll know next time.”

The dragon managed to straighten his path after several more orbits.

Bixby moaned.

Cantor held her closer. “It won’t be long now.”

All the lights were out at the vilta. Cantor used the electricity generated from his hands to jolt the lock of one of the side doors. Bridger carried Bixby into Dukmee’s library and laid her on the couch. Jesha leapt onto the sofa and found a place next to Bixby’s shoulder to curl up and keep watch.

Cantor went to wake the healer.

He knocked softly on the door to the man’s bedroom.

“Coming,” Dukmee called from inside. The door opened, and the healer appeared, looking disheveled. He pulled on
his robe and tied the sash. “You’re distressed. Tell me what’s happened.”

“It’s Bixby. She’s ill.”

“Where’ve you been?”

Cantor explained as they walked through the corridors. “We discovered Totobee-Rodolow was missing, and after dinner, we went to find her. We thought first she would be at a market, but at the first one we checked the merchants behaved strangely whenever we mentioned her. We decided the situation was worse than we first thought, so we headed for the vilta to consult you.”

“You might have consulted me before you left.”