Silver Dragon Codex (18 page)

Worver pushed through the bystanders, shooing them away with sweeping gestures. “Stand back, good people. I’m sure there’s been some sort of misunderstanding.” He shoved aside Bobbo and one of the other clowns to come to a clucking halt beside the White Robe of Palanthas. “That’s Ebano! He’s our master mesmerist—a hypnotist beyond compare.”

Jace could see Worver twisting his mustache around
one finger while his strange monkey jumped from shoulder to shoulder. “Attacked you, you say?”

Ebano lay face down, spread out on the ground between them. His dark robes were scorched by the acid. The air had the pungent stench of singed fabric and burned flesh. Jace wanted to get a better look at Ebano’s wounds, but there was no way to find out if the mesmerist was still alive without risking Worver seeing them among the crowd. They’d have to wait and see.

“He came to my wagon, wouldn’t stop pounding on it, and when I answered, he used magic on me. Illegal magic, I’d imagine.” Mysos scowled. “He’s certainly never been to any Tower of High Sorcery that I’ve ever known.”

“Well, that is something! Used real magic, hmm? I’d never have believed it. I thought his whole hocus-pocus thing was just sleight of hand.” Worver’s pet, Tsusu, leaped down to the ground and started poking at Ebano, leaning in close to see if the dark-skinned mesmerist was still breathing. The scaly little monkey jerked back and started chittering. “Still breathing?” Worver asked his pet. “I see.”

Cerisse gripped Jace’s arm. “Ebano’s alive!”

Jace hushed her quietly, shooting her a smile.

“Perhaps he was under some sort of spell when he attacked you.” Worver smoothed his mustache.

“A spell?” Mysos barked. “Are there more illegal wizards among your performers?”

“What? No!” Waving his hands in distress, Worver protested, “That’s not what I meant! I meant, you see … that perhaps one of the mesmerist’s spells backfired. He might have been cruelly manipulated by his own magical mental control, some dark hypnotism. Or perhaps one of his recent subjects took the joke poorly, you see, and came back to cause him trouble. It wasn’t any of us! Yes, I’m sure that’s what happened. Poor Ebano. How tragic.”

“Wasn’t this one of the men who went with the dragon?” Mysos’s sharp eyes took in everything, flicking from the dancing monkey to Worver’s uncomfortable shifting. “How is it that he has returned and she has not?”

Stumped, Worver glanced back and forth among the performers, trying to look anywhere but at Mysos’s face. “Well, ah, perhaps he was sent ahead … to tell us how they’re doing?”

“We have to get Ebano out of there,” Jace whispered to Cerisse. “If you cause a distraction, he’ll have to notice. Maybe open the horses’ pen so he has to stop them from getting out? That might give me a chance to grab Ebano, get him out of here, and tend to his wounds. It’s not a very good plan, but I don’t have any other ideas.”

“Do you think binding his wounds will help?” Belen asked softly.

“Maybe. I can’t tell how bad he’s hurt.” Jace cursed under his breath, glad that they had stopped by the big top to pick up their things. The short sword at his belt felt very reassuring right now. “Do we have another option?”

“If you want a distraction,” Cerisse brightened, “I can do that.”

“All right.” He shared a smile with Cerisse. Impulsively, she reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently. It made him feel better, being close to her, like he wasn’t so alone in all this trouble. He wrapped his fingers around Cerisse’s for a moment. “While you get the horses, Belen and I will … wait, hang on. Where’s Belen?” Panicked, he dropped Cerisse’s hand and lunged upward, looking around at the crowd in horrified realization.

Belen had moved away from them to the center of the crowd. Before he could yell out her name or get her attention, Belen stepped into the clearing. She faced Worver and Mysos with almost regal calm. “I have returned,” she said simply. All eyes locked on her. Jace could see the open confusion of the clowns, Mysos’s relieved half smile, and Worver’s grin of hysteria.

“This man is a companion of mine.” She gestured to Ebano. “Can his wounds be healed?”

Worver strode to Belen’s side and took her elbow, pulling her close. “Belen, my dear! There you are! It’s so good to see that you’re all right!” From where he stood, Jace could see that Worver’s grip was far too tight for comfort. To answer the lady’s question, Mysos took a moment to kneel next to Ebano and inspect the fallen man’s burned robes and pained skin. While he was looking at Ebano, Worver was trying to drag Belen away. When the ringmaster spoke, his voice was low and quiet so Mysos wouldn’t hear him. “I assume our little friends are roaming about?”

“No,” Belen said clearly. “They’re dead.”

“What is she doing?” Cerisse gasped, holding tightly to Jace’s arm.

“She’s protecting us. If Worver thinks we’re alive, he’ll have to keep trying to kill us. Now get down, he’ll see us.” Jace grabbed Cerisse’s shoulder and pushed her back, ducking quickly behind a pile of feed bags.

Worver tugged on Belen again, trying to maneuver her toward his red wagon. Unwilling to be moved even an inch, Belen jerked her arm out of the ringmaster’s grip and glared at him. Worver started to speak, but Belen cut him off, demanding, “Can you heal Ebano, Worver?”

“What?” Worver blinked. “I don’t know what you mean, my dear—”

She cut him off again, her eyes flashing. “You healed
Hautos when he was hurt by the werewolves. You healed Francis the Firebreather. Others. Can you heal Ebano?”

“Minor incidents! Petty injuries!” Worver said loudly, waving his hand in dismissal. He pitched his voice low again and hissed, “I don’t see any reason to help Ebano since he has attacked our guest.” Worver’s eyebrows flew up and down like butterflies. “I would be better served if I let him die, poor fellow. Unless, of course, you’d be willing to make it worth my while?” His eyes flicked over the crowd and his voice dropped so low that Jace could barely make it out. “I’d so much rather have you part of the circus
willingly
, dear girl, but I’ll take the best I can get.”

Belen bit her lip, looking down at Ebano. Mysos was shaking his head somberly as he looked at the dark-skinned mesmerist’s wounds. Ebano’s body lay broken and crumpled on the sandy ground. Jace knew immediately what Belen was thinking. She wouldn’t give her word unless she meant it.

“I’ll do it.” Belen’s voice was heavy, weighed down by defeat.

Worver relaxed visibly and broke into a smile. “There, there, my dear Belen. A tragedy, I know, but I shall make every endeavor to see that you are well cared for. But you’ve gotten out of all that trouble, and you’re here! Wonderful.
I see that the experience has educated you. Very good, my dear. Then there’s nothing else between us. Now, tell me, do you promise not to make trouble? To let bygones be bygones?” The ringmaster’s tone sharpened slightly.

“I will—if you heal Ebano.”

“A trade, my dear? Very well. If I heal Ebano of these wounds, you will stay. You’ll sign the legal contracts with the White Robe that will make me officially your caretaker? You won’t cause trouble?” No one else seemed to be paying much attention to the ringmaster. Their attention was focused on Mysos and the fallen Ebano.

Belen faced Worver squarely. “You have an agreement, you beast. Now make good on your part of the deal.”

Worver smiled and stepped away. “Mysos, is he alive?”

The White Robe looked deeply concerned. “Yes. I’m no healer, but these wounds are significant. I don’t know if he will recover, and if he does, I’m afraid he will be crippled by the injuries.” Mysos’s hand lingered on Ebano’s unmoving shoulder. “I am sorry, my friend, for whatever insult I did you that brought you to this end.”

Worver bowed, fluffing out his short cloak and doffing his top hat. “This is a circus, my lord Mysos. You’d be amazed at the recovery time of even the most serious wounds. Our healers are well trained to deal with injury
garnered while performing our amazing feats.” The ringmaster spun on his heel, never letting go of Belen’s elbow. “Hautos, my horned companion! Come here and gather this poor fellow. The rest of you, go back to your duties—the crowd hasn’t left the big top, and we’ve little time to spare gawking about. Go on now, go on.”

The minotaur stepped out from the crowd. He flexed his tremendous muscles and made soft gruff sounds in response to the ringmaster’s commands. When he walked past Mysos, the wizard stiffened. “You’re quite sure everything will be fine?” asked the White Robe.

“Yes, yes, trust me on that.” Worver tried to take Mysos’s arm as he’d taken Belen’s, but the White Robe pulled away and brushed off his sleeve where the ringmaster had touched it. “Now, then, why don’t you and I and the lady Belen step into my wagon? I’m sure you must be very interested in her trip.”

“Yes, I am. And I have those contracts you’d mentioned, the magical ones that will enforce our agreement. Assuming the lady is agreed, that is, and that she has no further information that will change the situation.” He looked at Belen sternly.

“No, none,” she answered, her silver hair flowing over her shoulders as she walked toward the wagon. “I went to Angvale, but there was no one there. I … I did attack the
village. I deserve to be punished, and I surrender myself to it without argument.”

Mysos looked impressed, even if his brows were still knitted. He nodded once for emphasis, and then turned toward the wagon.

“Fine, just fine, that’s settled, then.” Worver tossed a look back over his shoulder. Hautos was hefting Ebano, pitching him face first over his bull-sized shoulder with a snort. Worver smiled sweetly. “Hautos, you know what to do?” He stepped aside, hand on the minotaur’s shoulder, and gave him some whispered directions. The smooth smile never left the ringmaster’s face.

The minotaur snorted deprecatingly, little shots of steam whistling past the big brass ring in his nose. He carried Ebano off, glowering at anyone brave enough to take even a single step to follow. Worver led Belen and Mysos into his wagon as the crowd slowly began to disperse, uneasy whispers floating among the performers.

“Oh, Jace.” Cerisse wiped at her face with a sleeve, leaving a dirty smudge along her cheekbone. “We can’t let her sign those papers! If she does, that horrible Worver will have won, and Belen will literally be his slave. She’ll belong to the circus like some sort of property!”

“Yeah, and who says that he’ll only use her for the circus? With a dragon on his side, Worver could do a lot
worse—and use the circus to cover up all the things he does. This is awful.”

“Can’t we go in there and stop it?”

“No. Not until Ebano’s all right.” Jace sighed. “Belen knows that this is the only chance Ebano has to be healed. We’ve got to follow Hautos, help Ebano, and then come back and save her.”

“Then we’d better do it fast. Belen will keep her word. She’s too good a person to break it, even if Worver’s a stinking cheat.” Cerisse bit her lip. “So what do we do?”

Gloomy and angry, Jace thumbed over his shoulder. “We follow Hautos. If he can’t heal Ebano, then the whole thing’s off and I’m going to go right into that wagon and tell Mysos everything—no matter what happens to me.”

“Jace!” Cerisse’s faded smile regained a bit of its certainty. “You’d do that? But it’s dangerous—Worver wouldn’t think twice about killing you. He didn’t hesitate to throw us in that cage.”

“I don’t care.” Jace’s stomach sank a bit. Cerisse was right. Despite the fact that he’d been brave—they’d all been brave!—against the werewolves, the chimera, and a hundred little dangers along the way, this was different. Heroes didn’t get blackmailed.

“You must really care about Belen.” The little dirt smudge on Cerisse’s cheek had grown larger, a brush of
damp brown dust against her lightly tanned skin. “I think it’s great that she has a friend like you, Jace, who would go through so much to help her out. No matter what, you’re there for her. You always have been.”

“You did the same thing.” He tried to keep the minotaur in sight, waiting until the beast was several steps away before he started moving. “You went with us to protect her and help her out. That’s what good friends do.”

“I wasn’t—” Cerisse stopped and shook her head. “What I’m trying to say is that I hope … well, I hope that everything works out for both of you, Jace.”

“It will, I promise. No matter what Worver tries, we’ll find a way to stop him. Look! Hautos ducked behind the sharpshooter game.” Jace pointed. “We’d better hurry.”

Cerisse looked away. “Yeah, we’d better catch up before he has a chance to do anything despicable. I don’t trust that minotaur.” Jace nodded, and they trotted quickly after the strongman. Hautos was easy to track—he didn’t bother to skulk, and he was far too big to hide behind anything smaller than an elephant or a fully loaded wagon. He walked through the circus, away from the big top, toward the wagons that usually held the stores and extra tent canvases. “Where is he going?”

Jace squinted. “Not toward any of the herbalists, that’s for sure. Duck!” They jumped behind one of the
many-spoked wheels of a large wagon. The minotaur swung his heavy head back and forth, looking around for witnesses. He shuffled Ebano over his shoulder, evoking a soft groan from the wounded man, and then strode directly toward a small, shabby-looking wagon off to the side. While they watched, Hautos reached for a big brass key at his belt and unlocked a heavy wooden door at the rear of the wagon. After opening it, he tossed Ebano inside with a callousness that made Jace wince. After another scathing look around the wagon, the minotaur climbed inside. “Jace, look! The wagon didn’t move when he climbed inside.”

“So?”

Cerisse rolled her eyes. “You may be a tightrope walker, but I guess you don’t know anything about balancing. If something as big and heavy as a minotaur climbs on one end of a tightrope, the whole thing slopes toward it, right?”

He blinked, startled. “You’re right! But it didn’t! So there must be something equally heavy in the wagon that kept it level despite Hautos’s weight—like a big, solid rock.”

They crept up on the wagon, slipping closer as Hautos slammed the heavy door. “Look!” Jace whispered.