The Tracker (6 page)

Then they were past the orphanage and traveling down another Lighmoon street. Master Maraudi stopped at an inn for them to have a late lunch, and because it was a humble place, had Dieter stay with the horses to guard their belongings. A meal was sent out to him. Striking up a conversation with a married couple of traders at another table, Master Maraudi subtly steered it to gossip of the royals. Arden would not have thought anything of this before, but now he understood the deliberation in it. The man wanted to know what was being said, and who was saying it.

There was nothing in the traders’ chat of Princess Briala except a bored comment about her wedding soon to come. The rest was snippy remarks that concerned the gross inequality of having Loria’s goods sold in Odri when Odri’s goods were not sold in Loria.

So word had not gotten out yet, at least not to these traders. Arden listened in on the chat at other tables. All of it was inconsequential. If the princess could be caught and returned speedily, then as far as the populace knew, nothing at all had happened. That brought back his thoughts to unfortunate Keth, tasked with changing the course of a set mind, and also his unfamiliarity with the creature called the tracker. That part did not interest him very much. He had a penchant for animals, but that did not engender a great love of them. He had liked them more before they became his sole responsibility and reason for being. Yet they put money in his pouch, and he was pleased when Master Maraudi paid for their meal and he did not have to breach the ties.

Then they were on the road again, coming to the end of the city and traveling past cultivated fields and farmhouses. In time those gave away too, and Master Maraudi turned them onto a side road called Clopsing that wound through the thin trees and rocky slides of uninhabited land. Three roads connected Lighmoon to Brazia, and to pass the time, Arden debated with himself why they were on this one. The best and shortest was the Noster, paved and guarded the entire way, but that had small tolls on either end and was always crowded. The worst was the Rambles, which was roughly cut through the hills and filled with the kinds of people who wanted to avoid being seen. Guards were dispatched there often in search of criminals. The longest of the routes was Clopsing, which their horses were trotting down steadily now. It added a couple of hours to their travel time, but it seemed to Arden that it was the least likely to arouse interest. Thrifty traders and poor travelers chose it, and pickpockets didn’t often lurk around its curves because it went so out of the way.

Little Hav dragons were sitting in a tree along the road, screeching and flapping their wings as compatriots chased after bugs and battled over the ownership of branches. The tree was splotchy with singe marks and it reeked of shuffle. All of the dragons were battle golds, too common for the perindens and having a lifespan of a scant year. They killed each other long before second birthdays rolled around, even though they were capable of living up to five years. Dieter broke into laughter as a flying battle gold spontaneously combusted while chasing another one around. “Jest then now! Why do they do that, friend? You must have the reason.”

“Dragons of several breeds have two connected stomachs,” Arden said, raising his voice to be heard over the screeching. “One for food; one for fire. If they start to spurt fire but forget themselves and swallow it into the wrong stomach, they explode. All of them are stupid, but the blues and battle golds could be argued to be the worst. They lay the biggest clutches of eggs and that’s probably to compensate for so many of them not living to adulthood.”

Dieter hadn’t listened to half of it. He was turned in the saddle, eagerly watching the dragons in the tree. Keth made a face at the racket and was moved to speak. “I never have cared for dragons. The noise and the smell. No disrespect intended, penchant.”

“None taken. I don’t care for them either,” Arden said, and Master Maraudi chuckled at a penchant not liking the focus of his penchant.

Battle golds weren’t even pretty to look at. Their scales were singed and gray, torn and missing altogether from fighting. The horses flicked their ears and tails in annoyance, Keth’s ready to spook as dragons lifted from a branch. Arden calmed it down with an unspoken command.

“Must have been amazing to witness, the old dragon wars,” Dieter said wistfully. “Hav troops storming south with legions of these little fellows; Lorial regiments coming east with their bigger ones. They don’t use them anymore, no one. Why is that, Master Maraudi? Don’t you want one on your shoulder to help you out in a fight if someone were to attack the palace?” He ducked as a fighting clutch of battle golds flew over his head.

“They’re very hard to train,” Master Maraudi said. “A horse, a dog, they have minds set for commands. A dragon? Not so much. They would be more likely to set the palace on fire than help me defend it. Unless you have a penchant to direct them, and our fellow Arden here has few his equal, they aren’t the best choice for warfare. So they are no longer used.”

“Can you make them stop?” Dieter asked about the fighters. Arden reached into their minds.
Find bugs
. The battle stopped at once, and they soared in different directions to seek out worms and flies. Arden called one back and told Dieter to lift his hand. The dragon landed on his palm and sat there companionably before Arden directed it back to the tree.

Dieter shouted with thrill. “Better than freaks! That’s worth a copper!” He passed one over and Arden at first refused it. But the boy insisted and the copper was duly transferred to the pouch at Arden’s belt. Likewise entertained, Keth gave Arden a nod. They left the tree behind, the sound of the screeching and the smell of shuffle following along for another quarter of a mile.

It was early evening when they reached the outskirts of Brazia. Master Maraudi guided them through farmland and streets of sagging gray homes to a hill where far grander abodes resided. At the base of the hill were guards, who allowed them to pass but stopped someone in ragged clothes who was pushing a cart full of fine fabrics. “No peddlers!”

“But I live here!”

The guards laughed in his face and one said, “Don’t try that with us again. Get back to the Straits where you belong.” The peddler swore at them and rolled his cart away.

Some of the homes upon the hill were nearly as grand as the palace. Two stories, three stories, one was four rising high into the air and with three cupolas. Exotic plants grew in gardens behind the fences along the street. The carriages traveling up and down it were white and gold, and a proud Halulus drew the finest one of all.

Their search party appeared shabbier and shabbier as the homes grew more extravagant. The property belonging to Lord Zamin was astonishing even in the growing night. They pulled into the driveway, Master Maraudi speaking to a guard posted there, and Arden looked around at the clipped gardens and splashing fountains. The mansion was enormous, and a light burned in every window. That anyone beneath the king could have so much money amazed him.

Master Maraudi was displeased. It was almost dark and the tracker wasn’t even in Brazia yet. The guard assured him that the beast was truly on its way. Its behavior was so abhorrent that transferring it slowed everything down. Lord Zamin had relayed to his staff to send his apologies and his promise that the beast would be ready to go in the morning. Neither was he on the property. Business had called him down to town and he was staying the night there in an inn.

They were taken to the servants’ quarters. Even that was grand, a two-story house with large windows overlooking the mansion and driveway. A pair of rooms had been set aside for them, and a third was rapidly found once the housemother discerned that there was a woman in their company. Dieter and Arden were given a room to share. It had two big beds and an attached washroom.

“I’ll enjoy this, and so should you, friend,” Dieter said as he settled down under the covers. “If we’re led on a right merry chase around Odri or the wider world than that, we won’t be seeing regular beds for some time.” He was asleep within the minute.

Arden was not yet tired, so he sat at the window. The moonlight was bright and the sky full of stars, and the sound of the splashing water from the fountains was soothing. The voices in the other rooms softened, as the housemother was knocking on the doors of people who were speaking too loudly, and then Arden was alone in this night as everyone slept. In time, he drifted in the chair, his head to his chest, and awoke at a crack of a shout. “Do
not
remove his shackles once he’s in the stall! Let him sit there in them all Dagad’s-night!” Another voice answered, swearing loudly. Dieter rolled over in his sleep and mumbled, but did not rouse further. Arden expected the housemother to fly down the hallway with a knock and a thorough scolding, but the voices had come from outside.

Out the window, servants were rushing around with torches. They were going back and forth to a wagon upon the driveway, lifting away bags and helping down a man as someone cursed at the top of his lungs. There was a cage in the back of the wagon, and a figure was moving around violently within it. The tracker! It could be nothing else but the beast. Someone out of sight was swearing at him. Bars clanged as Arden rubbed his sleep-swollen eyes.

The swearing and clanging continued. Arden did not like to see animals abused, even those with foul tempers. He had an advantage, of course, and no need to get frustrated. People could be goaded to violence when they could not simply walk into a recalcitrant animal’s mind and make it do what they wanted. Tolaman was one of those people. He had been so rough with the towel on the unicorn’s horn, back when he performed tasks like that, that she wouldn’t come near him even now for any reason. The monkeys hurled shuffle at him, and the pegasus seemed to take a special pleasure in finding a way to step on Tolaman’s foot, or knock him over by suddenly lifting his wings to stretch them.

Perhaps Arden should offer his help, and he wanted to see this incredible creature that could track down the princess using just a scrap of her clothing. He had only ever heard of specially trained dogs that could perform such a feat, and that was what this beast had to be in part. Slipping on his clothes, he let himself out into the hallway and crept past the bedrooms to the front door. Then he was outside and hurrying to the driveway, the moonlight reflecting in twinkles upon the glittery rocks that lined the garden paths.

Someone was shouting. “Oh, no, not back here with you shuffle-suckers! Did you miss having your favorite pet to kick around, Yanlou? Webber? Well, here I am! Get your hands out of your pants and line up! And there’s homely little Grelda, making eyes at Dudney and he won’t ever look at her! He’s too busy making eyes at that curvy hot piece in the blue bonnet! And she never looks back at you, does she, Dudney dear, poor fellow? No, she only pants after women. So many love stories in this cursed place that will never get written, so many sad hearts!” Laughter. “Who’s trying to sleep out there?” The laughter became a wordless yell to disrupt it.

“Shut up, you!” The bars clanged again. The yelling man swore undaunted. It wasn’t the driver, who called to the servants to finish the unloading swiftly so he could get to the barn. Luggage was heaved and footsteps scurried, people going to the barn and the mansion and the servants’ quarters. The swearing and rude comments only increased in volume and depravity as guards hopped into the back of the wagon. One maid passed Arden with a squeak of fright over her packages.

When he was almost to the driveway, the driver flicked his whip and drove the wagon on to the barn. The door to the mansion closed behind a butler. Two guards remained in the driveway, one with a metal pole. He tapped it on his palm and laughed as Arden appeared from the path. In surprise, the man said, “What brings you out so late, penchant? Was it the yelling? Apologies. He’s a terrible creature.”

“That was the
beast
yelling?” Arden asked.

“Sure, sure, a foul mouth to match his disposition. Don’t you have talking animals where you’re from?”

Arden nodded. They had a school of mermaids in an exhibit near the squelly pools. It was hard for anyone to understand their speech, since the small degree of human language they had mastered was liberally sprinkled with words from their animal tongue. They showed little propensity to learn more. Visitors to the perindens tried to talk with them, but mermaids were just overlarge fish that shared a resemblance to humans in the upper body. They didn’t concern themselves with small talk or figurative chat; their conversations were devastatingly literal and usually concerned their only interests of fish and grooming. Even their songs were about these matters, raised to the heavens in their lovely, burbling voices.
Green fish, blue fish, slow fish, fast fish, chase fish, catch fish, eat fish. Then brush hair.

Dagad alive, they were dull. Just as dull as dragons in a different way. Mermaids were definitely not capable of swearing with such fluency as that creature in the cage. After seven years of seeing Arden’s face daily, the mermaids still didn’t even know his name, or care to learn it, or they didn’t understand that he
had
a name. They were fish, after all, and very easy for him to command when necessary because they had so little intelligence.

Shouting erupted from the barn and he looked over to it in alarm. The guards at his sides were perfectly calm. One said, “No troubles, penchant. He hates to be put in his stall.” A resounding clang echoed through the dark garden. After another bout of yelling, guards and servants exited the barn. One closed the door.