Dragonback 03 Dragon and Slave

  He felt Draycos twitch. So the dragon was surprised, too. "Yes, I'm here, Lisssa," Jack called back. "What are you doing here?"

  "What do you think I'm doing?" Lisssa countered disgustedly. "I'm Her Thumbleness's newest art project."

  Jack winced. "I'm sorry," he said, and meant it. Bad enough to be dressed up in a clown suit and made to perform magic tricks. Having to stand there while Her Thumbleness gleefully ran a paintbrush over your body would be ten times worse. "When did you get here?"

  "They came and got me this morning," Lisssa said. "That Wistawk—Heetoorieef—told me they'd put you in here."

  "They did it twice, actually," Jack said, rubbing at the bruises on his ribs. "You'd better get back before she misses you."

  "Not a problem," Lisssa said. "Her Thumbleness is having a long bath in that swamp off her room. Are you hungry or anything?"

  Actually, he was starving, now that she mentioned it. "I'm okay," he said.

  "Yeah, right," she said. "Here, I brought you this."

  There was the sound of something scraping against the wood beneath the door. Jack tensed; but before he could move, Draycos's rear legs bulged out from his ankle to press against the wooden slab and hold it firmly in place. "I swiped a few of these from the kitchen," Lisssa added as something round and thin slid faintly into sight. "They're cold, and they didn't taste all that good hot. But they're probably better than what you've got."

  "Grilled sand would be better than what I've got," Jack grunted, prying up the copper mesh and pulling the round thing all the way in. It was some kind of pancake, he decided as he lifted it to his nose. It smelled odd, but no worse than some of the things he'd eaten in his travels around the Orion Arm. "Thanks."

  "Hang on, I've got three more," Lisssa said. "Catch."

  She passed the rest of the pancakes through the narrow gap. "Hope that'll tide you over," she said as Jack pulled the last one in. "It's getting chilly out here. You going to need a blanket or anything?"

  "I'm fine," Jack said. "I don't want to sound ungrateful, but you'd better get out of here before one of the patrols sees you. I don't want your beating on my conscience."

  "Oh, that's right," she said with an audible sniff. "You still have a conscience. I forgot."

  "So humor it already," Jack said. "Thanks for the food. Now get lost."

  "What about that blanket?" she persisted. "I've been in hotboxes before. They're pretty miserable at night. And you don't even have scales to keep you warm."

  "I'll be okay," Jack insisted. "Besides, you'll never get a blanket in through that gap."

  "I suppose," she agreed reluctantly. "Look, I'll see what I can do. Don't go anywhere, okay?"

  Jack grunted. "Funny."

  "I try. See you later."

  The footsteps moved off. "To the wall," Draycos whispered.

  Jack pressed his back against the wall behind him. Draycos shifted, paused for a minute, then shifted again. "She has returned inside," he reported. "I saw no patrols that might have noticed her."

  "Good," Jack said. The last thing he wanted right now was to draw curious Brummgan eyes in this direction. "Well, that was different."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Lisssa sticking her neck out for me," Jack said. "Or for anyone, for that matter."

  "Yes," Draycos said thoughtfully. "Perhaps the experience of being one of Her Thumbleness's playthings has given her a new view of life."

  "I think that only works with K'da," Jack said dryly. "But we can ask her about it later. Right now, we need to get moving."

  "That may not be easy," Draycos warned. "She implied she would return with a blanket."

  Jack hissed between his teeth. He was right, blast it. "And if she strolls by when we're not here . . .?"

  "Then we shall be burned cinnamon bagels," Draycos said solemnly.

  Jack grimaced. "Toast, Draycos," he corrected. "We'll be burned cinnamon toast."

  "My error," Draycos said. "Still, the point remains. What do you suggest we do?"

  "You got me, buddy," Jack said. Blast it, and blast Lisssa, too. "I guess we wait."

  "And if she does not return, or does not return soon?" Draycos asked. "What, then, about Noy?"

  "We don't have a choice," Jack bit out irritably. "I don't like it any better than you do. But if she comes and tries to stuff a blanket under the door, she's going to push that slab inside. She wouldn't be able to get it back out, even if she wanted to. And the first Brummga who saw it . . ." He shook his head. "Burned cinnamon toast, all right. Butter side down."

  There was a moment of silence. "There is one alternative," Draycos said. "You could stay here while I tend to Noy."

  "Right," Jack said with a snort. "He's lying in bed when a gold dragon pops in to have tea and scones with him. Nothing strange about that. Definitely nothing he'd think to mention to anyone else."

  "He will not see me," Draycos promised. "I can deliver the food and juices without him noticing."

  "No," Jack said firmly. "We can't risk it."

  The dragon seemed to sigh. "Then Noy will have no help. From anyone."

  Jack bit down hard on his lip in frustration. But Draycos was right. "Fine," he growled. "So go. Just be careful."

  "I will," Draycos said. He lengthened his stretch off of Jack's ankle, pushing the wooden slab outside.

  Jack stuck his hand through the gap; and with a surge of weight, Draycos was out. "I will be back soon," the dragon promised softly through the door as he pushed the slab back into place. "Do not go anywhere."

  Jack rolled his eyes. "Everybody's a comedian," he muttered under his breath.

  But Draycos was already gone. Settling himself as comfortably as he could in the cramped space, Jack began nibbling on the cold pancakes Lisssa had brought. And tried hard not to think about the danger out there. To Draycos, and to Noy.

  It was going to be a very long night.

  CHAPTER 25

  Draycos didn't see, hear, or smell anyone as he made his way across the starlit ground toward the kitchen door Lisssa had used a few minutes earlier. From the way she had made sure to leave it open when she left the building, he suspected he would find it locked. It was.

  Jack, of course, would have simply picked the lock. A highly useful skill, and one that Draycos had practiced hard during their travels between planets aboard the Essenay. But his paws were not as nimble as Jack's, and he was not yet good enough to manage such a feat. Certainly not in the dark. Certainly not with a Brummgan patrol due to appear around the corner at any moment.

  Fortunately, there were other ways. The Chookoock family had built their mansion with broken-edged stonework all across the outer walls. Very decorative. Also very easy to climb.

  He had reached the third floor when he heard the sounds of the approaching Brummgan patrol on the ground below. By the time they actually appeared, he was crouched motionless in the shadow of a stubby smoke vent. They passed by without so much as breaking stride and disappeared around the corner of the building. Shifting his grip on the stones, Draycos continued on his way.

  In warfare, he had long ago learned, it was usually impractical to make detailed preparations before a battle. Either the enemy came from the wrong direction, or they came with the wrong number of troops, or they used a completely unexpected strategy. Sometimes they were inconsiderate enough not to show up at all.

  But a good warrior still did what he could to prepare first, second, and even third plans ahead of time. On occasion, such plans even proved to be useful.

  As it happened, this was one of those occasions.

  The windows of Her Thumbleness's room were protected by alarms like the one Jack had found at the gatekeeper's house the night this mission first started. Unfortunately for the Brummgas, they had no idea that an enemy had already been inside their fortress.

  Not only inside, but with the time and freedom to study the windows at his leisure. Last night, as both Jack and Her Thumbleness slept, Draycos had examined both the alarm and
the window lock itself, and had disabled both.

  At least, he hoped he had disabled them. Easing a claw through the gap between window panes, he gently pried the panel open.

  No alarms went off, nor did the sound of breathing from inside change. Opening the window just enough to allow him to slip inside, he dropped silently to the floor beneath it.

  There he paused, senses alert. He had already noted how soundly Her Thumbleness slept, and there was little danger of her awakening even if an entire field army of K'da tromped through her bedroom. Possibly not even if they'd brought a section of percussion masters and concert drums along.

  Lisssa, however, was another matter. Draycos still remembered her moving about in her bed as he returned to Jack that first night. If she was here, he would need to be especially careful.

  But there was no hint of her Dolom scent anywhere in the room. Apparently, she was down in Jack's old bed in the underground slave quarters.

  He closed the window and made his way across the room. All was quiet out in the corridor. Opening the door a crack, he took a deep sniff.

  The cleaning crew had not yet made it to the stairs. But on the other hand, the Brummgas hadn't been in their rooms for very long, either. If last night's pattern still held, he had perhaps two minutes before the stairways and corridors began to fill up. Bracing himself, he pushed open the door and slipped outside.

  Warrior's luck was with him. He made it down the hallway and the stairs, avoiding the traps and tripwires Jack had located last night. The entry chamber, too, was deserted.

  He was crouched safely in a dark corner of the kitchen when the first Wistawk slave came stumbling tiredly in to collect his equipment.

  The sorting out of buffers and sprays and cleaning cloths took only a few minutes. Then they all headed upstairs, and Draycos once again had the kitchen to himself.

  The slaves' food locker was much smaller than the huge freezers and irradiators that held the food for the Chookoock family. But it was big enough, and adequately stocked. He chose several packages of pre-cooked food, then added a dozen different juice bottles to his pile.

  The next step was to find a way to carry everything back to the slave compound. Fortunately, many of the packaged foods came in identical handle bags made of a rough, dark-brown cloth. A little ingenuity, and he was able to combine three of the bags into a sort of backpack. A quick check out the kitchen door, and he was bounding across the open ground toward the sports area, the thorn hedge, and the slave compound beyond.

  He couldn't head directly in that direction, though. There were still the hidden guard posts to consider, scattered along the paths between the various hedge openings and the house itself. Much as he would have liked to deal with those Brummgas, this was not the time for it. Veering in a wide circle to the northwest, he headed for a more remote section of the hedge.

  There were no guard boxes in this area. No patrols, either, at least none that had passed by recently. Apparently, the Brummgas didn't think any trouble could come at them except through the openings they themselves had put into the hedge.

  Of course, once he was over the hedge, there would still be a lot of slave territory for him to search. Or maybe not. On his first night's exploration, he'd seen four small buildings off by themselves. With luck, one of them would be the isolation hut Noy had been sent to.

  Ahead, the thorn hedge appeared, forming a darker patch against the dark sky. Draycos picked up speed, judging his distances; and at the right moment crouched down in his run and leaped.

  Even with the extra weight on his back, the jump was an easy one for a K'da warrior. He hit the ground with a muffled rustle of dead leaves, and ducked into the shadow of a nearby bush.

  There was no sign of Brummgas. No scent of them, either, as he carefully tasted the night air around him.

  But there was something odd, he realized as he inhaled deeply. A faint scent that smelled just vaguely familiar. A scent that reminded him somehow of Noy.

  Noy?

  He sniffed harder, swinging his head back and forth to try to locate the source of the scent. It was there, all right. Somewhere to the north, he decided. North, and a little above him.

  Above him?

  He frowned upward. Surely Gazen's isolation hut wasn't built up in the trees. Besides, the scent wasn't strong enough to be coming from Noy himself.

  He hesitated; but his instincts said this was worth checking out. Making sure his backpack was secure, he headed north.

  Almost immediately, the "above" part began to make sense. Behind a clump of bushes the ground began to rise, and he found himself climbing one of the many low ridges he'd already noted in this area. The scent was still faint, but growing stronger with each step, and he continued on until he reached the very top of the ridge.

  And there, camouflaged with dead leaves and grass, was a large mechanical device built from branches and bits of metal and wire and plastic.

  It was a glider. And not just a glider, but a glider sitting on a makeshift catapult.

  For a minute Draycos walked around the contraption, marveling at the ingenuity of its design. He was mostly a ground warrior, and certainly no expert at flying machines. But he was familiar enough with them to know a properly built one when he saw it.

  This one was indeed properly built. All it would take would be some cranking on the catapult, a stretching and tightening of the elastic ropes already in place, and the glider would shoot off the ridge and soar into the sky.

  Directly into the lasers and flame jets waiting in the white wall.

  For a moment he stood there, the breeze vibrating against the straps of his backpack. Had its builders learned about the lasers and abandoned their scheme? Or were they still ignorant of the deadly dangers lurking at the top of the wall, and were merely waiting for the proper time to attempt their escape? Should he disable the craft to make sure none of the slaves took off to their deaths?

  But no. He would warn Jack, certainly, and through Jack try to warn whoever had created this marvel. But it wasn't his place to destroy it. Turning away from the glider, he headed east.

  The first of the small huts was empty. In the second, he found Noy.

  He crept up on the hut from downwind, sampling the air carefully as he went. If the Brummgas were still looking for whoever had been digging into their hedge, they might have left a guard to watch the boy.

  But there was no scent in the area but Noy's. Once again, it seemed, Gazen and his people had ignored an obvious security point. Mentally shaking his head, he eased the door open.

  He had hoped to be quiet enough that the boy would sleep through his visit. But even as he pushed the door open, he realized he had miscalculated. Noy was only half-asleep, tossing and turning on his cot, muttering softly and incoherently under his breath.

  And as the breeze whistled through the hut, Noy's sweaty face turned toward him. The half-open eyes went a little wider . . .

  Draycos froze in the doorway, waiting for him to shout or scream. But all that escaped Noy's lips was a small whimper. "Are you here to take me?" he whispered.

  The tip of Draycos's tail curled in a frown. "What do you mean?" he asked.

  "Is it time?" Noy asked, his voice a little louder and trembling like a flower in an earthquake.

  "Time?"

  The boy took a shuddering breath. "Is it time for me to die?"

  CHAPTER 26

  Draycos's first instinct was to get out of there. To duck out of sight, pull the door closed with the tip of his tail, and come back later when he could deliver his package without being seen. In Noy's feverish state, surely the boy would decide afterward that this had been just a dream.

  But the very unexpectedness of Noy's question had nailed his paws to the floor.

  And now he was stuck. Because there was no way he could leave a sick child wondering if he was about to die. Especially not when he thought the appearance of a K'da warrior was the omen of that death.

  "No," he assured the boy
in his calmest voice. "It is not time. Not at all."

  The boy blinked. "But—"

  "I have brought you some food," Draycos explained. Coming all the way into the hut, he closed the door behind him. "Also some fruit juice," he added. "You must be very thirsty."

  The boy stared as Draycos came around the side of the bed, never taking his eyes off the K'da for a moment. "You are thirsty, are you not?" Draycos tried again as he slipped off his backpack.

  Noy nodded silently. "It is well that I brought this, then," Draycos went on, choosing one of the bottles and prying off the seal. "I hope you like . . . I believe this is called grappo juice." He held the bottle toward Noy.

  The boy's mouth worked as if he was trying to say something. His gaze had shifted now from the K'da's face to the bottle, and the claws holding it. "Go ahead," Draycos said encouragingly, moving it a little closer to him. "It will be good for you. Drink."

  Slowly, Noy took the bottle. Staring down into it, he lifted it to his mouth.

  A few drops slithered down the corners of his lips. But most of that first drink made it inside where it belonged. "How does it taste?" Draycos asked.

  Noy looked up at the K'da, then back into the depths of the bottle. "A little funny," he said.

  "Yes, that is the way of a fever," Draycos agreed. "Foods often do not taste normal."

  Noy drank again. Then, all at once, the strength seemed to go out of his arms. The bottle started to slip from his grip—

  Draycos's forepaw snaked out smoothly, catching the bottle before it could fall. "Very good," he said as he set it down beside the cot where Noy could reach it. "Perhaps you should rest now. You can drink more in a little while."

  "Okay," the boy said. He was starting to sag a little, and his breathing seemed more labored. "Could I have—" He paused, looking around as if searching for something.

  "Another drink?" Draycos suggested, picking up the bottle. "Certainly. Allow me to hold it for you."

  The boy drank deeper this time before coming up for air. "Still tastes funny," he said, panting a little. His eyelids were definitely sagging now.