The Little Dragons

  “Don’t forget not to tell him about the Little Dragon unless he asks, and then in just the vagest terms,” Jessa reminded Eldrin.

  “I think he long ago decided killing the Dragon Priestesses was a mistake, but for your safety, I will remember.”

  Chapter 141: Anglewart

  The King rose to his feet, leaning heavily on his walking stick, to greet his children. When they entered the chamber, his heart twisted in his chest. They were clearly battered, exhausted and sad beyond what anyone should be asked to bear. He held out his arms. Jessa—no, he reminded himself, Liandra—ran into them and held him hard. He felt a sob or two shake her shoulders before she gulped down a couple of deep breaths and pulled back to look at him. “Father,” she said. “We didn’t dare hope …”

  He looked to Eldrin, held out his other arm. The boy, now made a man by his trials, hesitated. He had never felt his father’s touch in affection before. After a minute, however, he came forward for a brief hug, albeit a little stiffly.

  Once seated, Jessa looked at Eldrin and said: “First plan.”

  He nodded agreement. Anglewart looked from one to the other, his eyebrows raised.

  “My Lord,” Eldrin began.

  “I’m no longer your Lord,” Anglewart reminded him, and smiled. “In fact, you are mine.”

  “Not yet. I’ve just read the Westlands Constitution of the Realm.”

  “You have?” Anglewart’s eyebrows rose again.

  “I’m the Heir Designate until there’s a Coronation. You, however, are King until death, and you don’t look very dead to me.”

  Anglewart threw back his head and laughed. “My horseman son has become a lawyer.” A minute later he returned to seriousness and said, “My dear son, I am not dead, but I came very close to it. I was saved by a brilliant Healer of the Earth People.” Eldrin’s glance slid over to Jessa, surprise on his face. “But I have injuries that will never heal, and I feel older than the mountains. I have also made some terrible mistakes. The citizens of the Westlands believe me to be in retreat here, a remnant of a man. I think they deserve a vital young King, with a clean page to write on.”

  “Father, I am, as you just said, your horseman son. Ruling involves more than riding horses. Torrie had little enough preparation for governance; I have had none. Life in the Realms is about to change.”

  “Oh?” Anglewart interrupted. “Why do you think that?”

  Edrin flushed a bright pink shade. “I don’t know. I just think so. It’s a long story.”

  The King nodded. “Go on,” he prompted.

  “If things begin to change, or not, the people of the Westlands need an experienced hand at the helm.”

  “Where is Ermin?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him yet.”

  “Hmmmm.” The King nodded thoughtfully.

  Eldrin surprised him by shifting forward, out of his chair, settling on his knees on the floor. “My Lord, I mean, Father, if you would come back to rule, I could learn from you, and Ermin, of course, and prepare to take my turn.”

  “Eldrin, get up. I am not your Lord. All right, perhaps legally I am.” He looked into Eldrin’s beseeching eyes but also felt the ache of his aging and wounded body. He dropped his head into his hand, rubbed his forehead. “I’ll think about it,” he said. “Do what you need to do to heal your men. Find Ermin to conduct the day-to-day business of the Realm. Arrange your brother’s funeral. We will talk again soon.”

  It was a dismissal. Eldrin and Jessa got to their feet, but before they could bow and leave, Anglewart addressed Jessa. “My daughter, before you go, is there anything I can do for you?”

  She had not planned to say it, but found the words right there on her tongue. “I would like to visit the Lady Merrit,” she said. “She lives across the Square, in the Women’s Retreat House, but I don’t know how to arrange it.” She glanced at Eldrin. He looked puzzled.

  “Be seated,” Anglewart said. “Let’s see what I can do.”

  Chapter 142: Melisande

  Melisande had seen the carriage standing in the Square. It did not surprise her to get a message from the Men’s Retreat House as soon as it pulled away. When she discovered Jessa in Anglewart’s chamber, there were delighted shrieks a long hug. “My dear,” said Melisande, standing back to look her daughter over.

  Jessa, in turn, studied her mother, instantly taking in, Melisande saw, her white veil. “Lady Merrit, I mean, what do I call you?”

  “How about Mother? At least in private, and yes, I am now Head Mother Merrit. Head Mother Mabonne died the week after Torrie’s coronation. She appointed me her successor.”

  “I didn’t hear.”

  “We didn’t hold a large public funeral because the Coronation was so recent and preparations for war had begun.

  “Have you taken your full vows as a Sister then?”

  I know. It’s unusual for a Widow to be Head Mother. I promised Mother Mabonne that I would start the process of preparing to make my full profession.”

  Jessa smiled. “You will make a good Head Mother.”

  “Thank you, my dear. I’m so sorry about Locheil. Is he …?”

  “He lives, but he is very, very ill. I need to find an Earth People Healer for him, and the others.”

  “That we can do,” said Melisande. “And you, dear Jessa, you look so thin and tired.”

  Jessa’s eyes were on Anglewart. How much did he know about Liandra? Dare she ask? She decided to ask but say as little as possible. “My sister,” she said. “Is there any word of her?”

  “Not since we had word that she was snatched by Dragons.”

  Jessa’s face paled. “Snatched by Dragons?”

  “Did you not get my letter?”

  “No, not before we started out to join the army.”

  Anglewart and Melisande spoke in unison. “We?”

  Jessa’s face went from white to red. “There’s a story to tell.”

  “Just a minute while I ask for a pot of tea,” Melisande said, going to the door.

  The story took more than one pot of tea to tell. When Jessa reached the part about Roxtrianatrix’s arrival on the battlefield, she paused, questioned Melisande with her eyes.

  Melisande glanced at the King. “No, he doesn’t know that part,” she said.

  “What part?” Anglewart asked.

  And so Anglewart learned what Melisande knew of their other daughter’s story, and learned where Little Dragons come from. He blushed furiously. Melisande turned to Jessa. “Men are such prudes,” she said.

  Much later, when Jessa had left to return to the Infirmary with Melisande’s promise to send Marle, Anglewart let out a deep breath and let his head rest on the back of the chair. “I am so tired,” he said, and he certainly looked it. “But we need to make a decision, soon. Eldrin has asked me to return as King.”

  “Do you want to?”

  “No.”

  “Do you think it would be the best thing for the Realm?”

  “I have to admit, I do. He has no training in statecraft. I told him to rely on Ermin, but Ermin betrayed me and now his young King is dead and his old King is still living. If I were Ermin, I’d have left in advance of the returning army. Who, then, does Eldrin have to teach him?”

  “And who better than you? You have been a good King, Anglewart.”

  He turned to her, a look of amazement and gratitude on his face. “Do you really think so?”

  She nodded. “The crown will go to Eldrin all in good time.”

  “I think he would prefer it to be never. You know his passion for horses.”

  “Kings can breed horses.”

  “But servants do most of it. I think he would like to manage a stud himself.”

  Melisande laughed. Anglewart reached for her hand. “But if I become King again,” he said, “I will need my Queen by my side.”

  “You won’t marry a Rodolph, now that you have the chance again?”

  Anglewart shook his head, his eyes expre
ssing his love for her.

  “But my vows to the Women’s Retreat House, and my position as Head Mother, I ….”

  “You are not yet fully professed, and your entry vows were taken under an assumed name. I think we might be able to get around them, perhaps with the promise that if you are ever widowed, you will take your place in the Women’s Retreat House again.”

  She squeezed his hand. “May that not happen for a long, long time, but I am officially dead. You held a huge public funeral for me.”

  “I’ll call all the nobles together and confess the terrible error I made.”

  Melisande was almost overwhelmed by sadness. “My dearest, I love you, you know that, but stop thinking like a lover and think like a King. You were officially engaged to a Rodolph. Even if she then married your son, she is a widow now. Her family might accept that you do not want to marry your son’s widow, but you owe it to them to marry another woman of their family now. They might feel justified in assassinating you if you don’t. At least they would break their alliance with you and become powerful enemies once more. Your whole Kingdom would probably split over such an action.”

  Anglewart’s head had dropped into his free hand while she spoke. There was a long silence. She squeezed the hand she held once more and he squeezed back. He turned to her, his eyes filled with his pain. “Such a stupid, arrogant, power-hungry thing I did. It will haunt me to my grave, and perhaps beyond. I guess it will have to be enough that you, at least, have been ready to forgive me and love me again.” He gave her a sad smile. She lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it, her tears trickling over his scarred knuckles.

  Chapter 143: Maida

  Maida used the stars to keep herself on a southward course. She needed to travel south to the Westlands, then east, but wondered how she would know when she had crossed the border. In the end it was not difficult to tell. She began to encounter villages, mostly those of the King’s People. She stayed out of sight, hoping to find an Earth People’s village and a Healer. She tried to remember who had a practice near the northern border of the Westlands, but her mind was blank. Her feet were blistered and raw. She wanted some salve and bandages for them.

  As night began to fade, she was stumbling with exhaustion. She spotted a clearing ahead and pushed herself to reach it. Breaking out of the woods into the open, she stopped abruptly. There were two woodcutters in the clearing, not as tall as most King’s people, but strong-looking. They were tying the wood they had cut into bundles, ready to carry to their village, which must lie ahead on the path, since she had not passed one on the trail behind her for some time.

  Maida wished she had been more cautious in her approach. Now it was too late. They were staring at her and one had lifted his lantern to see her better. “Well, well,” he said. “And who’s this on the trail so close to morning?”

  “Sir,” she said, and then because they were obviously waiting for her to explain herself, “I’m looking for a Healer, an Earth People Healer.”

  “Ah, well,” said one of the men, slightly taller than the other. “There just might be one nearby, close enough to take you there on our way back to Lipkin.” His eyes narrowed. “What’s it worth to you?”

  Maida could stay on her feet no longer and sank to her knees. The second man jabbed the first in the ribs. “Fool, she’s in rags. She ain’t got nothing to pay with. She’s sick or something, isn’t she? Why else’s she looking for a witch?”

  The first man took a step or two closer to Maida and held his lantern up, examining her, especially her pack, which now hung limp on her back, almost empty of food. “Yeah,” he said. “She ain’t got nothing.” He turned back to heft his load of wood. The other man followed suit. “So follow us, then, but mind you keep up,” he said.

  Maida wanted so badly to find a Healer that she roused a bit of strength from somewhere to get to her feet and stumble along behind them. They walked quickly. She despaired of losing sight of them. Just when she thought she had, she found them waiting by the meeting point of the trail they were on and a much smaller one that veered away from it. “There,” said the slightly taller man. “The witch lives up there. It’s not far.”

  Maida thanked them and turned to take the smaller path, but wavered on her feet. “You should take her there,” said the shorter man. “Won’t take a minute and she’s going to die on the path and the witch’ll blame us.”

  “If I’m going up to the witch’s cabin, you’re coming too.”

  They dropped their loads on the main path and took Maida’s arms, one on each side. They marched her quickly up the path, traveling crabwise most of the time because it was so narrow. Just a few yards in they arrived in a small yard containing an even smaller cabin. It was lit and warm looking. A tall woman appeared outlined in the doorway, a lantern in her hand. “Who’s there?”

  Maida immediately recognized her voice. Sheil, Kendra’s Apprentice, although she must be a Sister now to be here in the Westlands practicing on her own. Sheil stepped forward, lantern held high. The two woodcutters dropped Maida and disappeared in a rustle behind her. She staggered and landed once more on her knees.

  “Maida! What are you doing here? And what’s happened to you?”

  With overwhelming relief Maida accepted Sheil’s hands to rise and then fell into her firm embrace, tears already pouring down her cheeks and into the bodice of Sheil’s dress.

  Chapter 144: Odd and Gimlin, Former King’s Men-at-Arms

  Odd and Gimlin ran back to where they had left their bundles of wood sitting beside the path. “Did you hear what the witch called her?” Odd said, breathless.

  “Maid, or something.”

  “No you idiot, Maida.”

  “So?”

  “That’s the one we were sent to find, in the Eastlands.”

  Gimlin thought for a moment. “The name was something like that.”

  “So, what are we going to do?” Odd led the way back to the village, speaking over the load of wood on his shoulder.

  “What’d’y mean, do?”

  “The King wants her, you fool. There’s probably a price on her head.”

  “The King’s dead.”

  “Well the new King then, why wouldn’t he want her too?” Gimlin plodded on behind his friend, not responding. Odd turned to face him, walking backwards. “So how well has this worked out, cutting wood for a living?”

  “What living?” Gimlin sniffed.

  “Exactly. So why don’t we turn back into soldiers and take her to the capital? Collect whatever reward there is for her and start collecting army pay again?”

  Gimlin frowned. “They might feed us to the Dragons.”

  “The Dragons beat them, didn’t they? They won’t be going anywhere near them for awhile.”

  “So, you want to grab her and take her to the King? The new King?”

  “Sure. We’ll just say we’ve been looking for her all this time and finally found her.”

  Gimlin shrugged, unsure.

  After selling their loads of wood to the innkeeper for a few pennies and a mug of ale, however, Gimlin was convinced. After a day on a pile of mouldy hay in the innkeeper’s barn, they went to the small cave in the woods where they had hidden their King’s livery. Mice had nibbled a hole or two in the leather jerkins, but there was enough left to wear. They hid themselves in the woods all the next night, watching the road south from the witch’s cabin. When no one came, they hid under a fallen tree for the day and slept. The next night they resumed their watch.

  Chapter 145: Maida

  Maida felt much better leaving Sheil’s cabin, her feet salved and bandaged, a new pair of leather shoes on her feet, food and fuel in her pack, comforted, well fed and, after sleeping nearly around the clock, rested, although sometimes rest was not a good thing, she reflected. It gave her some spare attention for her broken heart.

  She took a side trail that Sheil had told her would avoid the village of Limkin. She had traveled only a few hundred yards, however, when a very
ragged King’s Man-at-Arms stepped into her path. In a confusing flash, she thought that he was one of the two woodcutters who had led her to Sheil’s cabin. There was a footstep behind her, but before she could turn or cry out, a dirty hand was clapped over her mouth.

  Chapter 146: Anglewart

  Standing in his study, Anglewart was acutely aware of how bent his body had become, and how lumbering his walk now that he must lean heavily on a stick. When he last stood here he had been tall, straight, agile and athletic. When last he stood here, Ermin was beside him. Now it was Eldrin.

  He had watched his eldest son’s funeral from the balcony of the Men’s Retreat House, sitting in the third row, so he would not be obvious to the congregation below. Across the cathedral the Women’s Retreat House balcony was curtained, but he knew Melisande was there. He wished so much to be with her, holding her hand. Recent history had faded and he grieved for the young son that was so eager to learn, so eager to do well as Heir and eventually, King. He knew it must be worse for Melisande, who knew the children so much better than he did.

  His middle son gave him a look of apology. “I don’t know where anything is here,” he said. “In fact, what I know about the business of the Kingdom would fit on the hilt of my sword. It never occurred to me to prepare for this.”

  “Nor me.” Anglewart looked at the papers on the desk, lifted the top ones to look beneath. He turned slowly and surveyed the neat piles of documents on the shelf beside him. “It doesn’t look to me as if anything has changed since I left, except for the daily business.”

  “Torrie left it all in Ermin’s hands, while he prepared to march on the Dragons.”

  “Ermin knows the business of this room well. We have done it together for almost thirty years. So, where is Ermin now?” The King had to work to keep a dark tone from creeping into his voice with the question.

  “I think he’s gone. When we arrived back here I searched everywhere for him. All I could find was a gatekeeper who said he left the night before, mounted and with a heavily loaded wagon behind him. He gave another name, but the gatekeeper recognized him.”