The Dragon's Lair (9 page)

Ven looked down at her feet. She was rubbing them in the sand, as if to clear the webbing between the toes.
She said something about that desire getting stronger when merrows finally set foot on dry land
, he thought, not sure whether to rejoice in her possible change of heart or to be worried by it.
Maybe now that she has, the call to see it is stronger than the horror of what just happened
.

"Do you want to come exploring, then?" he asked hopefully. "You know, go overland beyond the Great River with my friends and me?"

"Of course not," said the merrow, still looking off into the city.

The bells of the clock tower began to chime, filling the morning air with sweet music. Almost as if by magic, the noise of children playing, fountains splashing, and the clopping of horses' hooves began floating toward them on the sea wind.

Ven sighed and held out the cap again. "So what do you want me to do with this?" he asked.

The merrow did not say anything for a long time. Finally she ran her hand up and down her arm.

"Hold on to it for the time being," she said. "Let's go have a look at the city." She did not take her eyes off Kingston, but extended her hand to Ven. "Just for a moment. Then you can give it back to me and I'll go back to the sea."

"Whatever you want," Ven said, happy to have her on land for a little while at least. "I can only stay for a moment longer—I have to meet up with Tuck and get underway. But if you want to take a peek, I guess I could help you do that. Put one foot in front of the other and just keep moving. I won't let you fall." He took out one of the three clean pocket handkerchiefs his mother insisted he carry with him at all times, wrapped it around the cap, put it carefully into his pocket and buttoned it securely.

"You better not," said the merrow, still watching the city.

"Hold still a minute," Ven said. He picked the seaweed out of her hair, then took her hand again. Together they started across the dry, soft dunes to the packed sand that led to the cobbled streets of Kingston, sprawling and wobbling a little less with each step.

They were almost to the first row of shops when a rainbow flash caught Ven's eye.

A blazing streak of shimmering light.

That he had seen before.

In the fortune teller's tent.

Deep inside the Gated City.

5
Madame Sharra

V
EN'S HEAD TURNED TO THE LEFT, FOLLOWING THE FLASH
.

In the light of the morning sun, a long dark shadow clung to the side of a nearby building where the cobblestone streets began. Ven saw the rainbow glimmer again as the shadow took shape and stepped into the cobbled street.

Standing there in the light was a tall, thin woman with golden skin and eyes that matched. She was watching him with a steady gaze that he remembered from the first time he had seen her, deep within her dark tent in the Gated City.

"Madame Sharra?" he asked in wonder.

The golden woman continue to watch him but said nothing.

Ven turned to Amariel. She was still fascinated by the buildings of Kingston, where the doors were now beginning to open and the streets starting to fill with people.

"Amariel, wait here, please, and don't move," he said. The merrow nodded distantly, still watching the waking city. He took a few steps closer to the golden woman.

"How did you get out of the Gated City?" he asked.

The Reader's eyes narrowed slightly. Ven knew immediately he had asked the wrong question.

"Why are you here?" he asked, trying again. He looked back at Amariel, who had not moved. Behind her, the people of the town, the farmers' carts, the merchants, even the fountain seemed to be moving very gradually, as if Time had slowed down around them.

Madame Sharra's gaze remained steady.

"I came to find you, Ven Polypheme," she said. Her voice had a strange dryness to it, an old, ancient sound that felt like magic in Ven's ears. "I wanted to see if you were still alive."

"Oh. Well, thank you," Ven said awkwardly. "I'm fine, thank you."

"For now," Madame Sharra said. She looked deeply into Ven's eyes. "I also came to find out how long that will be true."

Ven glanced back at Amariel again. She seemed frozen in place, like the rest of the world around him. "Should I be worried?"

"Look at me," the fortune teller directed. "My time here is short. As yours may be."

Not knowing what else to do, Ven obeyed.

Madame Sharra stared down at him. She was more than a head taller than he was, and her golden eyes were hypnotic. Ven found himself staring back, feeling warm and cold at the same time. He had no idea how long he stood there, his gaze locked with Madame Sharra's, but finally she looked away, breaking the lock.

"What do you see?" Ven asked.

The Reader of the scales shook her head. "When I look in someone's eyes, I can often see the footprints they will leave in the sands of Time in the course of their lives. Even when they are no longer in my presence, I can occasionally see their paths. Sometimes those paths go on for great distances, into almost endless horizons, because their lives will be very long. Sometimes those paths are very short, because death waits beyond the next hill."

Ven swallowed. It felt like a cobblestone from the street was lodged in his throat.

"And? What do you see for me?"

The golden woman exhaled.

"From within the Market, when I looked for your path, I could see nothing," she said. "But the Gated City is under a cloud at the moment, a cloud brought about by your actions, I believe." She smiled slightly. "For the first time in a long while, the walls actually hold the residents in."

Except you
, Ven thought.

"It is the prison it was meant to be, at least for a moment. Many of those who dwell in the deepest recesses of the city are not pleased with this change. Perhaps the cloud of their anger kept me from seeing your future clearly. I wanted to know for myself—so I have come to see if I can get a better look."

"Why?"

"Because your destiny, and that of the dragon scale cards, seem to be entwined."

Ven's face flushed hot. "What does that mean?"

"I'm not certain," said Madame Sharra. "But the gift you received from the scale you chose, the one that you carry in your palm, has never been given to anyone in the history of the Deck. For thousands of years, people have sought answers from these cards. The cards seem to favor you for some reason—a scale known as
The Endless Mountains
in particular. You did not select this scale in your reading within my tent—but it tried to get your attention, humming and vibrating on the table beneath the glass where your hand rested. It has continued to hum with the same vibrations since, as if it were calling to you. I need to know why."

The tall golden woman bent down and scooped up some sand from between the cobblestones of the street. She curled her long fingers into a fist, then stood up straight again and held it out over Ven's right hand.

"Your palm," she directed.

Ven opened his hand. It was shaking, either from nervousness or excitement.

It could have been either one
.

The last time we met—which was the first time we met as well—Madame Sharra had used sand to read a little bit of my fortune. But she had poured it from a tall hourglass onto a glass table and passed her own hand over it. The sand had taken on shapes. First it looked like an eye, which she said meant someone was watching me from afar. Then she passed her hand over it again, and it took on the shape of a bird, the sign of the albatross. She said the albatross was acting as the eyes of someone who was watching me, which made me very nervous
.

But she had never put sand into my hand before
.

The long fingers opened. The sand sparkled gold as it fell into the picture of the hourglass in Ven's palm.

And passed right through it onto the street below.

Ven blinked in surprise. He stared at his hand, which seemed as solid as it had always been.

On the cobblestones the sand had taken on the shape of a crown.

Madame Sharra's golden eyes went from the street to Ven's face.

"Though you were born to a common family, you are destined to be in the company of royalty all your life, Ven Polypheme," she said. Her voice was as sandy as the cobblestones. "Before that life ends, you will have met several different kings and queens, some who will trust you, some who will not. Some will seek to protect you. Some will seek to avoid you. And some will seek to destroy you."

Ven sighed. "I know."

"Whether you live to see another birthday will depend on your ability to correctly determine the intentions of any king or queen you may encounter," Madame Sharra said. "Remember, not every king wears a crown."

She stared into his palm a moment longer, then shook her head. Ven thought he saw a flicker of sympathy in her eyes, but when she looked back at him it was gone, replaced with the steady gaze.

"Alas, I do not see anything for you beyond the next horizon, Ven Polypheme," she said. "I hoped that coming here to you would clear the clouds from your future, but it is not to be. I fear for the future of the Deck, since its fate is tied in some way to your own."

Ven felt cold run through him like an icy river starting at his head and seeping through his veins to his feet.

"I'm going to die, then?" he said. His voice cracked as he spoke the word
die
.

Madame Sharra smiled slightly.

"We are
all
going to die. That is the waste of a question. If I had demanded a goldpiece of you for this reading, it would have been an expensive mistake. Questions worth paying for are
when
? Or
how
? Or
where will I die
? But these answers I cannot give you, because I do not see your path. I only know that soon you will be lost to the sight of the world."

Ven's face was growing hotter. "Do you have any suggestions? Any advice?"

The Reader smiled more broadly.

"Live as much as you can in the time you have left. It is the same advice I would give to anyone whose fate I was reading, no matter how long or short the path of their future footprints."

Ven inhaled deeply, then nodded.

Madame Sharra opened her hand. In it was what looked like a piece of thin black stone in a smooth oval shape. She held the black stone over his palm, then tapped the picture of the hourglass with her index finger.

"Here's another suggestion—use the power you have been given wisely. It would be far better to waste a magical gift than to misuse it. But when you believe the moment is right, do not hesitate, lest you lose the opportunity." She placed the black stone in his hand.

"Yes," said Ven, his curiosity itching fiercely. "Thank you. What's this? And can you tell me how to—" He stopped speaking. Madame Sharra was looking behind him over his head. He turned quickly.

Time was moving again.

The merrow was gone.

Every question that had been tumbling over itself to get out of his mouth dried up and disappeared.

"
Amariel!
" Ven shouted.

He dashed across the cobbled alleyway to the main street where the shops stood. He looked both ways, and, not seeing her, ran into the town square where the mongers' carts were beginning to gather with the morning's wares.

After a few moments of looking around desperately, he spied her standing on the other side of the fruitmonger. He hurried around the melons and cherries in the large wooden cart and came up beside her. She was staring into a wagon, her face white with horror, her hand in front of her mouth.

Ven followed her gaze. He found himself looking into a fishmonger's cart, filled to the brim with flapping, gasping bass and cod, their silver and white scales glimmering dully in the morning sun, their eyes cloudy and dull. Cats of all colors and sizes were rubbing up against the monger and his cart, while the man pushed them away, counting his wares.

"Amariel, don't go off like that without me," Ven scolded. "You could get hurt." His mouth snapped shut. Amariel looked like she was going to be sick.

"Is this how humans treat all seafolk?" she asked, trembling.

"No, no, of course not," Ven said. He took her by the arm and led her gently away from the fishmonger. A number of the cats left the wagon and followed them as they walked away, rubbing up against Amariel's ankles and meowing hungrily. Ven pushed them away with his feet to keep her from tripping over them.

"I thought merrows ate fish, too," he said, heading back toward the abandoned pier. The cats continued to follow them, chasing the merrow, their voices growing louder.

"We do," said Amariel. "But one at a time—and under the water, where their spirits can go back to being part of the sea. We don't take a whole school of them and leave them,
alive
, to dry out in the sun and smother to death—it's
barbaric
. I feel ambergris in my throat." She looked down at the cats, then wiped her nose. "Can you make them stop?"