The Dragon of Despair (101 page)

“Can you make it down these?”
she asked Blind Seer.

“The fit will be tight,”
he admitted,
“but I believe I can manage.”

Firekeeper took the lead and went down, gripping the railing tightly. Something about the twisting stair—or maybe the throbbing increase of the dragon’s presence within her head—made her own feet seem alien to her. She was glad when she was on level floor again, and sought to hide her disorientation by drawing her Fang and polishing it dry on a bit of her vest.

Grateful Peace stood barefoot near the base of the stair, holding his lantern up to better examine the larger room in which they found themselves. More pipes and various incomprehensible bits of machinery crowded along the walls.

“Mostly,” Peace stated without preamble, “these are for working the fountain. The hot water emerges from a natural spring and is piped up. The cold is piped from somewhere below—another spring I would guess. However, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if at least some of this intricate mess is a blind to cover another door.”

Firekeeper nodded, though she had only understood part of what he said.

“What can I do?” she said, focusing on something concrete to keep the dragon’s unspoken but intense anxiety from clouding her thoughts further.

“There should be other lanterns here,” Peace replied. “Find them and light several.”

Firekeeper did as Peace requested, locating the proper locker immediately with the assistance of Blind Seer’s nose. While she checked the wicks and oil, she heard noise from above and then bare feet on the stair.

Elise was the first one down and promptly sat on a narrow bench to dry her feet and put on her shoes.

“Derian and Edlin,” she informed them, grinning mischievously, “decided to relocate the four guards from outside to that upper room. If the stones of Aswatano have a chance to dry, their friends may think they got bored and went off for a glass of wine.”

“Good idea,” Firekeeper said, touching flame from Peace’s lanterns to those she had prepared. “Can we lock door again?”

“Edlin is going to try,” Elise replied. “If not, he and Derian will at least move a cabinet or two into the doorway to make it harder to get through.”

“Good thought,” Firekeeper agreed, “or if cabinet not move, put men tied up against door.”

Elise relayed this suggestion upward via Doc, who was making his own descent.

Six humans and one Royal Wolf, all more or less damp, made the lower chamber rather close, so Peace sent Derian and Edlin back upstairs while he continued looking for the exit he knew must be there.

“At least I believe it is,” he confided worriedly. “Firekeeper, can the dragon tell you anything about how we reach it?”

“No,” the wolf-woman answered promptly. “This place is all since it was bound. It knows there is live water near it, for the water is involved with its binding. Live water and living stone. That is all it knows.”

“Do you feel the dragon’s thoughts more intensely in any direction?”

“Down,” Firekeeper said. “When we come down it grew louder.”

“But not east or west?”

Firekeeper shook her head. Her own emotions were in an uproar. If this was a dead-end and Peace could not find the way to the dragon then Firekeeper couldn’t be blamed for not stopping Melina. She would not have to bind the dragon herself. She would not have to pay the price. But then Melina would win.

Hope warred with fear until Firekeeper didn’t know what she hoped or what she feared, but the dragon’s awareness that Melina was coming for it was as real to her as the odor of Blind Seer’s wet fur.

Firekeeper could tell from Peace’s expression that he was about to admit defeat when Doc said:

“Grateful Peace? I think I may have something here.”

Peace turned, his gaze alight with surprise.

“Yes, Sir Jared?”

“I’ve been looking at the pipes,” Doc said, “tracing them like I would the vessels in the body that carry blood.”

“Yes?”

“And this lot over here,” Doc indicated a mass of piping on the northeast segment of the wall, “doesn’t seem to do anything.”

Peace hurried over to the section Doc was inspecting.

“See?” Doc said, pointing to a curving pipe that looked no different from any of the others to Firekeeper’s eye. “It starts there and ends there, but as far as I can tell it links into neither the hot nor cold water systems.”

Peace held his hand up to the pipe in question, then gripped it in his hand.

“Neither hot nor cold, simply chill.” He rapped it with his knuckles. “Nor does it carry water. Sir Jared, this may be our answer!”

It did not take long then for Peace to find how this one section of pipes swung clear from the wall. Once the pipes were moved away, Peace’s expert eye found the thin outlines of a door cut into the dressed stone and a keyhole concealed in what appeared to be a natural flaw in the stone.

Firekeeper stood close, holding a lantern so that Peace would have light enough to pick the lock.

Blind Seer spoke to her.
“So, Little Two-legs, we could have done this without a pack, you and I, could we?”

Firekeeper wanted to kick him, but felt the truth of his accusation.

“If we were not about to go on a hunt,”
she said,
“and this room were not so small, I would lay myself at your feet and show you my throat and belly.”

Blind Seer sneezed his satisfaction.

“Just don’t forget. Like knows like best.”

A sharp click announced that Grateful Peace had convinced yet another lock to yield to his skill.

“This door also pulls outward,” he said. “There do not appear to be any traps, but we should take care when we go through. Tell Edlin and Derian they can join us now.”

“I go first,” Firekeeper said, “with Blind Seer.”

“So the lantern light doesn’t spoil your vision,” Peace agreed, but something in his tone made her think he might be teasing her. “Then I will go second since I may see things you two do not.”

Firekeeper did not disagree—though her real reason was that she wanted no one to stop her if she decided to do something they might find impulsive. When all were ready and lanterns turned to the merest glows and shielded so that their light would not give undue warning of their coming, Firekeeper put her fingers into small depressions in the stone and pulled against the heavy stone door. It glided easily on unseen tracks, swinging back and revealing a steep stone ramp curving gently downward.

“Now,” Firekeeper said, almost to herself, “very careful, very quiet. We go.”

XXXIX

FOR A LONG, SILENT MOMENT
Citrine stared at her mother, awed and intimidated by the wonderfully terrible vision in crimson, gems, and gold that had emerged from the steaming portal.

Then, realizing she was cringing, Citrine straightened her shoulders, ready for whatever punishment Melina might deem fit. As the moments passed in slow, shuddering breaths, Citrine realized that there was no anger upon Melina’s intricately painted features, only wonder and a strange, gleeful calculation.

“How long have you been following me, Citrine?” Melina asked, the jewel-hung chains on wrists and waist ringing as she knelt to meet Citrine’s gaze.

“Since you left your rooms,” Citrine replied softly. “You were carrying a heavy bag. I thought I could guess where you were going. So I followed.”

“You could guess,” Melina prompted. “How could you guess? This place is a secret.”

“Our secret,” Citrine replied in a nearly inaudible whisper. “I have known about it for days and days now. I…”

She decided to give up the entire truth and be done with it.

“I’ve followed you before, Mother. I had to know where you were going.”

She waited for the slap across her cheek, the angry admonishment that would make her ears ring and her face blaze brighter than the rising welt. Neither came. Melina only looked thoughtful and maybe the tiniest bit sad.

“Why did you need to know where I went, Citrine? To tell your friends what I am doing?”

Citrine choked around a sob she didn’t know was hidden in her throat.

“I don’t have any friends. Nobody cares about me. The others only care about the things the king wants. I was just a tag-along, crazy baby.”

Melina reached out and, careful not to mar her attire, drew Citrine close. The elaborately detailed dragon that spread its wings across Melina’s breast made a hard pillow, but close to her mother’s scented warmth Citrine didn’t care. And when Melina finally spoke she said what Citrine had always wanted to hear.

“I think, Citrine, that you have turned out the best of my children, the very best of all. Sapphire was always so headstrong, so sure of herself. Jet was just a sniveling flatterer underneath. Ruby and Opal…”

Melina dismissed her middle two daughters with an indignant puff of breath.

“But you, little Citrine, so devoted, so passionately devoted. You’re the very, very best of all.”

Citrine wanted to weep she was so happy, but she knew she daren’t. Close up she could see that Mother’s paint went all the way down her neck and even lower. Tears might smear the tiny little characters written upon Mother’s pale skin. That might make Mother mad and Citrine wanted nothing at all to spoil this perfect happiness.

Eventually, Melina released Citrine and rose with regal majesty to her feet. Her beautiful silk robe was soiled with dust from the floor and Citrine hastened to brush it clean. Her happiness when the dust didn’t cling and ruin Mother’s beauty made the child’s smile radiant.

Melina took Citrine by the hand.

“Come, darling, let me show you the secret place I’ve found. It’s hidden behind this steaming curtain. Close your eyes and follow me.”

Citrine obeyed the gentle tugging of Mother’s hand. She’d never dared cross the steam herself. Though she had followed Melina to this point, she had never been this near. When Mother had not returned for so long Citrine had crept closer, wondering if the steam concealed a tunnel rather than a cave, as she’d always assumed. In her haste to make sure she wasn’t left behind, Citrine’d forgotten to be stealthy and the clatter of rolling pebbles had brought Mother forth.

Now the steaming heat filled Citrine’s lungs with wet fire and made her head light, but that lasted only for a moment.

“Open your eyes,” Melina said, and Citrine gratefully breathed in mouthfuls of marginally cooler air.

Citrine found herself in a cozy room shaped something like an egg. Mother’s bag rested on the smoothed stone of the floor along with the clothing she’d been wearing when Citrine had followed her. Lovely ornaments were placed here and there on the floor, but Mother didn’t give Citrine time to closely examine them.

“Tell me, Citrine, did you hear what I told Tipi to tell you?”

“Yes, Mother. You said you’d come to see me, even if it was late. That I needed to eat a good dinner.”

Melina smiled, evidently pleased, even though Citrine hadn’t obeyed her commands. This puzzled Citrine a little, but then she realized that Mother was happy that Citrine loved her so much that she would disobey to be close.

“Do you believe I would have come to see you?”

“Oh, yes, Mother!”

Melina pinched Citrine gently on one round cheek.

“It’s nice to be believed, but let me show you proof of my intentions, darling. Look what’s in my bag.”

Melina handed Citrine a folded bundle of fabric. Its weight warned Citrine that it contained more than cloth and so she unwrapped it very carefully. She soon found herself gaping in astonishment at a crimson silk robe not too different from Mother’s own, a pair of embroidered slippers, and a tangle of jewelry. To Citrine’s delight, there was even a dragon breast pectoral—it was made from dry paper mash, like the costumers had used to make her apple costume, but it was beautifully painted so unless you looked closely you couldn’t tell the difference.

“Mother! Everything, it’s just like what you’re wearing!”

“That’s right, my darling,” Melina purred. “Tonight I planned to reward you for being such a wonderful, faithful daughter. I am going to let you help me with a very important project.”

Citrine stood straighter, trying very, very hard to be worthy of her mother’s trust.

“I’d like to help, Mother.”

“I am going to work a great magic tonight, Citrine. Does that scare you?”

“No, Mother,” Citrine insisted, though in reality her insides were twisting at the thought. She remembered how she and her cousin Kenre Trueheart used to scare themselves silly with the rumors that Mother worked magic.

Melina didn’t seem to see her fear, but went on calmly, “This magic will make me the mistress of something so powerful that you and I will no longer need to worry about what those fools in the Primes think. They will listen to what I want and be glad for an end to their endless bickering and debate.”

Citrine nodded, almost understanding. Certainly she got tired of the way the voices in her head could argue at her. It seemed reasonable that the Primes would be glad to stop arguing, too.

“The spell we will work tonight will awaken a dragon, Citrine.” Melina’s pale eyes were shining now, lit from within by the intensity of her vision. “A real flying, fire-breathing dragon! I was going to bind the dragon to myself, but a few days ago I had a thought…”