The Little Dragons

  Chapter 15: Maida

  “Each Dragon Priestess had a lifetime bond with only one Little Dragon.” Peg sat on her stool and consulted the notes she had made that night. “If the Priestess died, her Dragon would join the Great Dragons or refuse food and drink and follow its mistress into the Spirit World. If a Little Dragon died, its Priestess became a Senior Teacher in the Order, but was never paired with another Little Dragon.” Walking by with an armload of hay, Maida had never seen the old Healer as excited about anything as she was about this project.

  “Remember old Thomas? Grimson’s father?” Peg asked. “His aunt was a Dragon Priestess. She used to come and visit Thomas’s mother with her gold Little Dragon. Of course, the Dragon Priestesses were never separated from their Dragons. They went everywhere with them.”

  “I wonder what it was like having a Dragon in your house?” Maida shivered a little at the thought.

  “I asked Thomas that,” Peg said. “He said the Little Dragons were frightening, especially to children, because they sat quietly on the Dragon Priestess’s shoulder or the back of her chair and stared at the other people in the room.”

  “Oh my!” Maida exclaimed, trying to imagine a Dragon’s, even a Little Dragon’s, eyes on you. With no idea what a Dragon’s eyes looked like, she pictured them as a larger version of goat’s eyes.

  When Mother Peg had scanned all of her notes for that night, she closed the precious Journal and set it carefully on a shelf Rafe had built for her behind one of the beams in the stable. She had decided to keep her current Healing Journal as well as the Project Journal well away from the Princess’ eyes and came to the stable when she wanted to work on them.

  The chickens had settled on their perches and Maida was milking the last of the goats. Rafe had finished his work and eaten the supper Maida had brought to the barn for him. He yawned.

  “Ah Rafe, my lad,” said Peg. “You are a good beast of burden. Now I think you should be seeking out your bed.”

  Rafe glowed with pride at what he took to be words of praise and, in this context, they were. Carrying Mother Peg on her rounds taxed even his strength. He yawned again and climbed the ladder into the loft.

  Peg addressed Maida. “And how are you surviving with our self-centred royal guest?”

  Surprised by her mistress’s concern, Maida paused for a moment, milk pails in hand. Then, suddenly, her face crumpled and she was weeping. “I don’t know … how much longer I can stand her!” she sniffed. Peg walked over and put her hand on Maida’s arm. This further demonstration of caring released a flood of tears from Maida. She set down the pails, put her hands over her face and sobbed. Peg awkwardly patted her arm.

  Then Maida started. “Look at the light! We must hurry back to the house!” She picked up the pails while Mother Peg used her cane to struggle to her feet. Maida paused at the door and looked up into the grey dawn sky. Suddenly she gasped and stepped back. Peg nearly ran into her back. The air around them filled with the slow flap flap flap of wings. Unmistakable—a Dragon. The creature’s long shadow passed through the farmyard, black on grey. It hadn’t seen them, because it didn’t double back for a better look. The flap flap of its wings slowly disappeared into the distance. Maida’s heart was pounding. “That was close,” she said.

  Mother Peg let out a long breath behind her. “Make sure there’s not another one hunting with it.”

  Maida carefully searched the sky in all directions. “I don’t see anything. Let’s go!” She led the way with her buckets of milk. Peg came after, crossing the farmyard as quickly as she could.

  Princess Liandra was sitting in a chair beside the hearth, bent forward and very pale. “Are you alright?” Maida set down the milk pails and moved toward Liandra.

  The Princess immediately took control of her face and straightened up. “I’m fine!” she said, emphatically, then turned her attention to her skirt. She still wore the dress she had come in, dingy and a little tattered now, but in moments she had re-arranged it regally around her pudgy feet in their equally battered satin slippers. That done, the Princess started whining, “Where were you? I’m bored. I don’t want to go to bed yet. Talk to me. Or better, yet, read to me.” Liandra was intrigued with Maida’s ability to read and often requested another Folk Tale from Brother Findlay’s book.

  “Perhaps you would find it entertaining to help me strain the milk and put it in the cool cellar,” Maida suggested.

  “Princesses don’t work with milk.”

  “Well then,” Maida said, her voice rising a bit, “Princesses will just have to accept their boredom.” She turned away and set the milk buckets on the wooden self beneath the kitchen window.

  Mother Peg settled herself in the chair on the other side of the hearth, her keen gaze fixed on the Princess. Liandra squirmed in her seat. “If you want to talk,” Mother Peg said to her, “ Then perhaps it’s time we talked about your pregnancy.”

  The Princess drew herself up straight in the chair, her face reddenning. “I am not pregnant!” she declared. Maida stopped and turned around. Mother Peg’s jaw dropped open. Liandra looked defiantly from one to the other. “Stop gaping at me! I am not pregnant!”

  “Then why are you here?” Peg asked her.

  “Because my Mother thinks I’m pregnant. But what does she know? She went all hysterical, on and on, about ‘lying down’ with a boy, or a man. She tried to make me tell her who I’d ‘slept with.’ I have never lain down with any boy or man, or slept with one. When I could get a word in, I asked her if I could get pregnant if I never lay down with a man, and she said no. Therefore, I am not pregnant!”

  “Hmmmm.” Peg looked thoughtful for a moment. “It’s late this morning, and we all need sleep. But come evening, will you let me examine you?”

  The Princess turned even redder and jumped to her feet. “No, no. no. It always hurts when Healers … You are not putting your dirty claws on me, you old crone!”

  Peg’s face darkened as well and she opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, Maida stepped in. “It’s all right, Princess Liandra. Your body is your own here. No one will do anything you don’t want.” She cast a sideways glance at Mother Peg who scowled but said nothing. “Mother Peg is just offering to try and see if there is something wrong and that is why your moon bleeding doesn’t come.”

  That morning, Maida helped Liandra take off her dress. What a silly design, she thought, impossible for the wearer to unhook by herself. No choice but to have a servant. She hung it carefully, although it was starting to look more like a rag than a dress. She picked up Liandra’s silk nightdress, shook it out and gathered it to place over the Princess’s head. “You won’t let that old witch touch me, will you?”

  Maida stayed gentle as she pulled the folds of silk carefully down over the Princess’s body, helped her into bed and pulled up the covers, but her vision had narrowed to a tiny, red dot. She had reached the limit of her patience and she knew it.

  She spoke slowly, in a clear, hard voice. “Mother Peg is one of the most Senior and best Healers in the whole Realm! You are lucky to have her caring for you. We didn’t ask for your company any more than you asked for ours. We are doing the very best we can for you. I don’t want to hear another disrespectful word about her, or about me, for that matter!”

  Liandra shrunk down and pulled the sheet up protectively around her chin. She looked frightened, and Maida had a sudden surge of fear as well. What have I done? she thought. This is King Anglewart’s daughter. “I’m sorry,” Maida said, her voice much smaller now. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.” She turned and ran down the stairs from the loft.

  When Liandra called Maida to help her dress that evening, she was quiet. They both were. Mother Peg and Rafe had gone off on one of their expeditions. Liandra descended the stairs, sat at the table opposite Maida and ate one of the open-faced sandwiches Maida had made from cured meat that had come in the box of supplies from the Castle. Then she reached across the table, offering the o
ther half quietly to Maida. Maida, shocked, looked into the Princess’s face for confirmation. What she saw was the first little inkling of humility she had seen there. She accepted the sandwich with thanks.

  Chapter 16: Gleve

  “Gleve,” Father Mallory called from inside the cabin.

  “Coming,” Gleve called back from the garden.

  “Hurry,” the old man said. Gleve picked up his basket of herbs and vegetables and ran.

  The patient’s eyes were open, peering through the still-swollen yellow bruises. He gripped the edge of the blanket with his broken hands and stared in puzzlement around the room, stopping to study Father Mallory as he stood beside the hearth. His brow was creased, clearly trying to figure out who the old man was.

  Gleve carefully sat down on the edge of the pallet. “Hello,” he said. “We’ve been waiting for you to wake up.” The troubled eyes left Father Mallory and peered at Gleve. The young Healer suddenly felt a little shiver travel through him. The patient’s eyes were a clear, jewel-like colour of blue, startling in contrast to his dark hair and the even-darker stubble of beard that now covered his chin.

  The patient tried to speak. “Where …?” was all he managed to say before his voice disappeared into a croak.

  “You are in the cabin of Father Mallory, a Senior Healer, and I am Gleve, his Apprent … Co-Healer. We are caring for you.” Gleve paused while the beautiful blue eyes studied every inch of his face. “Who are you?”

  The young man’s brow creased again, now with a look of panic. “Don’t know …can’t remem …”

  “It’s all right,” Gleve told him. “Are you hungry?” The patient nodded, stiffly. “All right. I’ll get you some soup and then we’ll see if you can sit up to eat it.”

  The meal took the rest of the night, as Gleve slowly, gently, helped the patient to sit up and carefully spooned soup into his mouth. He was clearly ravenous. After Gleve had wiped his chin, straightened the sheet and helped him settle again, the patient rewarded him with a tiny smile, soon ended by a wince of pain from his damaged face. The young King’s Man then fell into a deep sleep.

  Gleve studied him. As his face healed it became obvious that it was long and fine-boned, probably handsome. His hands, too, as the broken bones healed, emerged as unusually long and delicate, not the usual build of a King’s Man travelling the roads of the Realm. More like an artist or musician, the kind of King’s servant that rarely left the Castle.

  Gleve felt awe at his Teacher’s skill and patience. According to the Order, he and Father Mallory were both fully qualified Healers, but could he have set all those fine, bird-like bones back into their original places? The patient was lucky; he would probably have full use of his hands again, important if he were an artist of some sort.

  Chapter 17: Jessa

  On Sunday afternoons, the residents of the Women’s Retreat House were allowed to see visitors, even the servants if they had relatives outside. Each season, Ev’s mother’s sister gathered as many family members as she could and brought them to fill the visiting room. And fill it they did, from wall to wall, most of them standing because they outnumbered the chairs. They shuffled uncomfortably in their coarse clothes, a tightly clustered group of dark-skinned Earth People, out of place in the realm of the fair-skinned Sisters. They stared with big eyes at the fixtures in the room, the few furnishings, the shiny paint on the walls.

  Jessa, hidden in the dark hallway, studied them through the open door. Ev made her round of the room, hugging and greeting each aunt, uncle and cousin. She had a few words with each, news of their lives, words to, from or about others who could not come. Her mother’s sister, as always, waited until last. She always stroked Ev’s face and hair as they talked, as though her love was too great to be carried by words alone, or as if she could cast spells as she spoke. Jessa knew that this woman would have been a witch if starvation had not forced the family to come to the town and sell themselves as servants. Ev’s mother, too, had witchcraft in her and the longing to cultivate it, as did Ev herself.

  This time there was a very old woman with Ev’s aunt, a dried-apple face shrouded by a heavy cloak and hood, a knarled walking stick held in an equally knarled brown hand. Ev did not seem to know her. There was clearly an introduction going on, and Ev bowed her head in respect. Next Ev’s aunt patted Ev’s arm and moved away, leaving her in conversation with the old woman.

  Chapter 18: Tess

  She was small and plain, this great-granddaughter of the famous Calla. She kept her face down as manners required in the presence of an Elder, but glanced up to Tess’s face from time to time, obviously curious. These moments gave Tess a glimpse of large, serious and surely intelligent eyes. “I understand you are the daughter of Stella.” The girl nodded slightly. “Who was the daughter of Remaude.” Again a tiny acknowledgement. “Daughter of the great Healer Calla.”

  The child surprised her by looking up, directly into Tess’s eyes. “Have you come for me? Is it time?” she asked, her voice tight with held breath.

  “What are you talking about, child?”

  “My mother, she told me the Old Ones would send for me when it was time.”

  Tess’s mind raced. What on earth was this about? It must be important. Her Healing sense was tingling. “Time for what?” she asked.

  “The Key,” Ev said, dropping her eyes again.

  Chapter 19: Jessa

  Jessa heard the swish of a gown brushing the hall floor. She ducked behind the door just before Sister Alfreda arrived to announce that time for the visit was up. Ev and Jessa suspected they gave this notice before the time allotted was really gone, knowing that it took the family almost as long to say goodbye as it did to say hello.

  Sister Alfreda went into the visiting room and began shooing Ev’s relatives out like so many chickens in a dooryard. Behind her back, Jessa stepped into the doorway again. The old woman was clutching Ev’s arm, staring hard at her. Ev pulled back a little and Sister Alfreda came right between them, taking the old woman by the shoulders and turning her toward the door. The crone almost lost her balance. Several nearby family members converged to hold her up, but she twisted back around, seeking Ev. Instead she saw Jessa standing in the doorway.

  Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open, displaying gums without teeth. She made a move as if to come forward, but the people around her did not let go. They cast frightened glances at Sister Alfreda and began to half carry the crone backwards toward the door. Alfreda, however, had caught the old woman’s reaction and whirled toward the hallway in a swirl of grey skirts. Before she finished the motion, Jessa had flown into the stairwell and away.

  Chapter 20: Tess

  Tess crumpled toward the pavement. The strong lads on either side of her guided her to a nearby mounting block and carefully set her down. One of them supported her while the other called to one of the young women to fetch water from courtyard pump. Remaude’s other daughter, Marle, was at her elbow. “Mother Tess, what’s wrong?”

  Tess could not take in enough breath to speak. She reached for the leather bag that hung from her belt, held it out toward Marle.

  “Something in here?” Marle opened the pouch, held it out. Tess pointed at a small bottle of Shock-Remedy. Marle lifted it from among the other items in the pouch. “Drops,” Tess managed to say, and opened her mouth. Marle carefully opened the bottle and used the little stick inside to place several drops on the old woman’s tongue. Even struggling with her breath and heartbeat, Tess noticed the woman’s confident hands. Yes, she would have made a Healer.

  The remedy moved through her pathways, calming and healing. Marle knelt before her holding her hands. When Tess recovered enough to walk, still with the support of Marle’s strong sons, they made their slow way back to Marle’s rooms in the carriage house of the wealthy home where she worked as a servant. When Tess finally sat before Marle’s fire, a cup of hot tea in her hands and only the two of them present, Marle asked, “What was it you saw?”


  “A dream,” Tess said. “Come to life. An omen.”

  “What does it mean?”

  “I don’t know.”

  By the next evening Tess could still not answer Marle’s question, but she had certain pieces: the young King’s woman from her dream, Ev’s Mother’s message that someone would send for her when it was time, the Key, she had said. Whatever the Key would unlock, Ev seemed to know what and where it was. “How often do you see young Ev?” she asked Marle.

  “At least every season.”

  “Could you go back to her soon? Would those awful Sisters let you in?”

  “Of course. They know I’m Ev’s next of kin. They let me visit when I please.”

  “Go to her,” Tess said, fiercely, “Tell her that yes, the time has come. I am sending for her. Can she leave there?”

  “No.”

  “She must find a way. We must find a way.”

  Chapter 21: Jessa

  “Who is that old woman? Jessa asked Ev as she plopped her mop back into the bucket. They were washing the floor of the hall outside the kitchens.

  “She’s a Healer, an Old One. Her name is Mother Tess.”

  “Is she a relative of yours?”

  “No. My Aunt Marle brought her. She wanted to meet me.”

  “Why?”

  Ev leaned on her mop, frown lines between her brows. “I thought I knew, but she didn’t seem to know what I was talking about.”

  “What do you mean, you thought you knew?” Ev turned away, bent her back over her work. “All right, all right,” Jessa said. “Earth People secrets.” Ev gave her a sharp look, but just kept on sliding her mop in big crescents across the flagstones. “And why did she look so shocked when she saw me?”

  Ev stopped mopping. “Is that what she reacted to? You? In the doorway?”

  Jessa nodded. “So what was that all about?”

  Ev shook her head and leaned on her mop, studying her friend. “I have no idea. I really have no idea.”