The Dragon's Lair (18 page)

So she did forgive me eventually. But every time she has smiled since then, her mouth has been tightly closed
.

I wish I could make her laugh out loud again. But I don't know if it's ever going to happen
.

"I think he should check," said Ida to no one in particular. "Her clothes are always wet, but I think that's because she's not housebroken."

"Maybe it's just spit?" Clemency suggested, while Ida snickered.

"Time to go," said Tuck hastily.

"Good fortune in your endeavors," said Regis. He let out a long, low whistle, and in response two of his guards came running into the room. "Give these gentlefolk whatever supplies they ask for, and let the children eat all they want at the festival. Then give them safe passage across the bridge and wish them safety on their way, as I do."

"Thank you, sir," said Ven, "and best of luck to you as well."

"Call me Regis," the River King said. "I never did take well to 'sir.' "

They started toward the stairway when Amariel suddenly froze. She walked away onto a small balcony to the south, then waved for Ven to follow her.

On the balcony was a strange, twisted telescope with a small red stool in front of it.

"Is that the strange, twisty-looking thing in your dream?" Ven asked.

The merrow nodded.

"Would you like to look through it?" Regis asked. "It faces the southern sea."

Amariel said nothing. She climbed up onto the stool and peered through the lens while the River King adjusted it for her. Finally she nodded excitedly, and he stepped away, allowing her to enjoy the view.

"What is it you see?" Ven asked.

"Shhh," whispered the merrow, continuing to stare through the telescope. "I see an underwater city, with a great dome of bubbles to hold in the air."

"The thing must twist until it can see inside her head," said Ida, smirking.

Ven scowled at the Thief Queen's daughter, then when Amariel was done took a turn looking through the odd device. At first all he could see was an endless expanse of sea past the great forest to the south, but after a moment a ring of clouds came into view.

"I—I think I see the Floating Island!" he said excitedly. "Char, come look at this!"

The cook's mate stepped up to the eyepiece. "I dunno what you're talkin' about," he said after a moment. "I see a large field o' grass, like a meadow or sumthin', where a picnic's takin' place. Strange. I could swear I've seen that place before."

The River King smiled. "You have," he said. "The telescope only shows you real places you've been to that you dream about."

"Let's see," said Clemency. She took Char's place, stared for a long time, then shook her head and stepped away.

"What did you see?" Ven asked.

Clem shrugged. "Just the sea. Oh well. I don't dream very much. I sleep the sleep of the Just."

"Just what?" Amariel asked. Clemency shot her a sharp glance.

"The Just—you know, the people who have nothing to be ashamed of."

"They loaned their sleep to
you
? You didn't have any of your own? Hmmm. You must have a
lot
to be ashamed of."

Clemency took a step closer to the merrow, but Ven jumped in between them.

"How about it, Saeli? Do you want to have a look?"

The Gwadd girl nodded. Char boosted her up, and she stared into the lens for a long time. Finally she seemed satisfied and stepped down.

"What did you see, Saeli?" Clemency asked.

"Home." The word came out part growl, part sigh.

"How 'bout you, Ida?" Char offered. "You gonna look?"

Ida shook her head vigorously.

"This way, then," said Regis.

They followed the guards down to the courtyard where the wagon was waiting. While the servants fed and watered their horses and filled the wagon with extra supplies, the children gobbled down sweets and berries, cheese and sausages and biscuits and all the fresh cider they could drink. By the time Tuck summoned them, they were full and happy and chatting excitedly.

They waved goodbye to the River King, who had come to see them off.

"One last boon?" Tuck said as he mounted the wagon board.

"Name it," said Regis.

"Once we've crossed the bridge, forget that we were here. Remember nothing but our good wishes."

The River King smiled. "I do that every day," he said. "Happy travels to you, whoever you were."

The wagon clattered as they drove away over the floorboards of the enormous bridge, leaving the beautiful river palace behind.

They made their way out of the fringe of the forest, heading north toward the Wide Meadows. They stopped to rest that night, and the night that followed, and the night that followed that, sleeping in the fields without a fire, the horses and wagon hidden in whatever copse of trees they could find.

Strangely enough, the farther they traveled from the river, the more they could hear its song in their dreams.

Those three days and nights blended together. They took to sleeping in the daytime and traveling when the sun went down to avoid the dark birds that had followed them across the wide river and that hunted them by day. Though it made them tired and cranky, trading day for night kept them safe.

Until the dark birds began looking for them at night as well.

12
Dragon's Breath

My mother is not a patient woman
.

Or maybe she is. But because her patience is spread across thirteen children and my father, who requires a certain amount of patience himself, it wears thin sometimes. You can tell when it's gone fairly easily, because someone usually ends up with a cauliflower ear
.

Whenever my brothers argue, my mother's eyes start to get narrow. This is the first sign of danger. My only sister Matilde and I are pretty good about noticing this change, and we usually make ourselves scarce whenever it occurs. But my brothers are typical Nain. They are pigheaded and love to argue
.

My mother is a typical Nain mother. She likes to have peace after a long day of arguing
.

So around dinner time, she's had enough Nain nonsense
.

When Petar or Osgood or Jaymes or any of the other brothers begin to act pushy or grumpy, my mother gets very quiet. This is the second sign of danger. My mother is a woman of few words in good circumstances, so when she gets quiet, it's like all the air was suddenly sucked out of the room. It's hard to miss this change, but if my brothers or my father are in the mood for a good, rowdy argument, they sometimes overlook it
.

To their peril
.

The third sign that my mother has had enough is when she rises from her seat. This one is easy to miss, because she usually does it very quietly and quickly. Before you notice, she has sunk her fingertips into the top of your ear. She pinches harder than the vise in my father's factory, which brings any argument to an immediate halt
.

Then she slams your head into the head of whoever you're arguing with
.

The result is the peace and quiet she expects
.

And sore ears
.

And occasionally unconsciousness
.

This is a tactic I have seen the mothers of all my upworld Nain friends use, too. I even wondered if Mrs. Snodgrass was part Nain, because when I first came to the Crossroads Inn I saw her bash together the heads of two guests who had had too much to drink and were arguing in the tavern
.

It made me feel at home right away
.

I myself have been the occasional recipient of sore and swollen ears over the course of my short fifty-year lifetime. It's a feeling I don't relish, and one I have never had the urge to visit upon anyone else
.

Until I traveled overland with my friends
.

I am feeling my eyes beginning to narrow
.

T
HE WIDE MEADOWS PAST THE GREAT RIVER WERE ACCURATELY
named. Once they had left the River King's palace behind, the Enchanted Forest faded from view over the southern horizon. The little towns and settlements along the river grew fewer and fewer as they traveled east, and soon all they could see was waving highgrass dotted with occasional copses of pioneer trees.

As civilization disappeared, boredom began to set in. Daysleeping was hard on them all, especially Ven, whose Nain eyes saw well in the dark but did not shut out the light of the sun well. His sleep was fitful, with haunting fragments of dreams that left him tired when he woke.

The lack of sleep did not improve the tempers in the wagon, either. Ven felt his fingers itch from time to time, as if they wanted to pinch ears and bang heads together.

Tuck had taken to teaching them how to live as a forester does. He gave them lessons in fire building, tracking, finding water and cooking over a campfire. It kept their hands busy as well as their minds.

Every now and then another wagon would pass by, or a traveling caravan of people on foot. If they were well hidden, Tuck and the children would let them pass without making themselves known, but sometimes it was necessary to smile and wave to keep from looking suspicious.

One day, just such a caravan was approaching from the north when Ven noticed something behind it.

At first he thought the clouds in the summer sky were hanging especially low. He stood up and squinted. After a moment, he could see that the clouds were up where they were supposed to be in the welkin of blue.

What he was seeing, hovering just above the highgrass, was billowing smoke.

"Blimey!" Char said beside him. Ven jumped. "Look a' that! The field's on fire!"

Ven pulled out the jack-rule from his pocket. His hands were trembling so much that he almost dropped it in the tall grass around him. He opened the lens that saw far away and peered through it.

The caravan he had seen coming in the distance was not a slowly moving line of carts with goods bound for market but a scattered group of wildly rocking wagons and people running, mostly children, their faces pale with fear. The white smoke was hovering over blacker clouds that hung above rippling orange waves of fire, some of it burning wide swathes of grass, some of it ripping across what had once been thatched roofs of houses and a barn.

Amariel grabbed his arm, almost making him drop the jack-rule.

"Fire!"

"I know—"

"Is it the king? Is the king trying to set fire to you again?"

"No, no," Ven said quickly. He pulled away from her grasp and stared through the lens again.

Past the billowing smoke he could see dark shadows of men and women beating the grass with what looked like blankets and sticks. A line of figures snaked from what appeared to be a pond to the largest of the blazes, passing buckets of water along to the center of the fire. To the north, another more distant group was shoveling dirt onto the grassfire, their dark shapes blending in with the smoke.

"Ven, get up here and drive the cart," Tuck shouted as he vaulted down from the wagon board. He came around to the wagon bed and dipped a rag in the water barrel. "Keep well ahead of the flames—head east, just out of range." He wrung out the rag and tied it around his nose and mouth.

"Where are you going?" Ven asked.

Tuck nodded in the direction of the bucket line. "To lend a hand."

"I can go, too," Char offered. "I had ta help put out a fire at sea once."

"I can help," added Clem, who had just finished praying for rain.

Tuck nodded. "Get a kerchief and come along."

"Me too," Ven started, but Tuck waved him away.

"No, Ven—you stay here and keep the others safe. You're Nain—it's best if you stay out of it. Clem, Char—stay only at the edges and keep away from the flames. Help beat the sparks out—nothing more." He turned and waded into the smoke.

I felt as if I had been slapped across the face. For a moment I couldn't move, sitting in the back of the wagon as my friends climbed over the edge and ran off to help Tuck
.

I wasn't certain why being Nain meant that my assistance was any less valuable, but then I thought back to what the king had said
.

First, you must understand that each of the kingdoms over which I am high king has its own ruler, its own set of laws. I may be in charge of all of them, but only loosely. Some of the kingdoms don't get along very well
.

Could my being here make the people of this region blame the Nain for this fire?
he thought. His stomach turned at the possibility.
Especially since the king is hoping that my being here will help end the hostilities, not make them worse
.

Next to him Amariel began to choke and cough. Ven turned and saw that she was holding on to her neck where her gills had been, struggling to breathe. His stomach tightened at the grayness of her face. Beside her, Saeli was keeping low, trying to keep the smoke away from herself and the keekee in her braid.

His hands shaking, he jammed the jack-rule back in his pocket, fumbling with the button. His handkerchiefs fell out and onto the floor of the wagon; one blew over the side into the burning grass. He scooped the other two up from the wagon floor and shoved them into his pocket behind the jack-rule, finally getting the button to close.