Closing her eyes, she imagined how she looked, a specter of a girl with green eyes shining from the darkness of a hood-shadowed face. Her silhouette drew the portrait of a traitor, the personification of evil wearing a dress and cape.
She reopened her eyes, unable to keep from cringing. The boots pinched more than just her skin; they pinched her heart. Her costume felt like a suffocating cage.
Holding the bag that once housed the black egg, Zena whispered in Koren’s ear. “You have been without chains for a while, but that was in the Basilica. Now that you are outside, our trust in you will be tested. Remember my instructions. When the prince comes, you must guide him with your eyes so that he can land at your side. If he falters, his image will be tarnished. Do not allow that to happen.”
“I will remember.” Koren scanned the people streaming in from the various work camps—miners and labor children from the two mesas, dirty and hardened from their backbreaking tasks; rock haulers from the river, tanned and muscular, though bearing cuts from sharp edges and lashes from cruel taskmasters; log cutters from the forest, the strongest of them all, yet slouched as they displayed the sorrow of their dangerous occupation; and, finally, various house servants, mostly girls and older women. The women of childbearing years would likely appear at the ends of the lines, either as the camp helpmates, or slow to arrive simply because pregnancy made walking such a distance difficult.
Dragons flew in from every direction, some watching over the lines to make sure no human strayed, and some coming from the forbidden barrier wall, border guardians who looked every bit as fierce as stories about them portrayed.
The people, now numbering close to a thousand, pressed closer, and the dragons, perhaps a hundred or more, made a semicircle behind them. No human would be allowed to miss this momentous occasion, save for the cattle children, who, if Tamminy’s prophecy proved true, would likely be slaughtered before the day was over.
Koren pressed her lips together. No, that couldn’t happen. She wouldn’t let it. Hadn’t Taushin promised freedom? Yet he had made no mention of exactly which slaves he would set free. Everything seemed so nebulous, so uncertain. She was caught in a trap. Still, one advantage remained. Taushin needed her eyes. They would be her ultimate leverage. If he allowed even one slave to die, she could refuse to serve him … couldn’t she?
When everyone had gathered, whispered voices sounded like wind whipping through dry grass. Some stared at Koren, including Madam Orley, who stood about three rows back. She neither smiled nor frowned, though the deep lines in her forehead gave away a host of emotions. She was worried, very worried.
Some onlookers watched with tightened fists and firm jaws, as if more angry than frightened. Koren knew the gossip flowing through the crowd had named her as the object of their fears. This kind of assembly was unique, as was her presence with Zena, so whom else could they blame? The cloaked redhead standing before them like newly crowned royalty was an obvious target.
Koren pinched the fringe of her robe near the embroidery and frowned. She did look like a pompous princess who had risen above her peers, supremely cocky and too proud to step down among the commoners. Any frightened grimace she could make to the contrary would be useless. Her elevated position as a dragon representative contradicted any verbal or facial disavowals.
Zena raised her arms and called out, “Dragon citizens and human servants of Magnar, the time we have awaited for centuries has finally come to pass. You have heard stories about the predicted arrival of a prince hatched from a black egg, fanciful tales of doom that would shame the most eloquent liar, but you have also heard wise prophetic utterances of a glorious new future that will soon prove to be true.”
A low murmur ran through the crowd, followed by the buzz of whispered voices. Koren strained to listen, but the actual words seemed of less importance than the tone—fear and distrust. Most humans knew of Tamminy’s dark prophecies, and those were likely causing the stir.
While Zena blinked at the sky, apparently waiting for Taushin to appear, Koren searched for Tamminy. There he was. The old dragon bard stood near the back of the crowd. Had he flinched at Zena’s critical words about tales of doom? Were his own songs flowing through his mind—glorious for dragons but wretched for humans? Was he now ashamed of them?
She blinked and refocused on the humans—Taushin’s orders. He had commanded her to scan for negative expressions—frowns, scowls, anything that might indicate a rebellious attitude. Yet there were so many. Which ones should she choose to focus on? Taushin had said that some slaves would need encouragement, so the dragons would round them up and bring them to her. As a Starlighter, she could tell them tales that might raise their hopes. Everyone would have to cooperate to bring about the desired future.
“Now,” Zena continued, her voice rising in pitch and fervor, “I introduce to you the prince who has hatched from the black egg. Taushin!”
The dragons roared, some interspersing deep clucking noises, perhaps indicating their pity for the humans now that their doom was drawing near, while a smattering of applause radiated through the human crowd, most of it coming from those closest to the dragons.
A small shadow passed over the audience. Koren looked up and found Taushin high in the sky, flying slowly downward. It was time to provide a landing path. She whispered to Petra. “Stand behind me so he’ll have room.”
After Petra moved out of the way, Koren swept her field of vision from Taushin down to the floor of the portico, repeating the motion several times. Taushin had to compensate for the difference between her angle and his, but they had practiced successfully within the Basilica. Out in the light of day, it would probably be easier.
As if gifted with perfect eyesight, the small black dragon followed Koren’s sweeping arc flawlessly. Then, with a graceful flutter, he settled at her side.
Koren looked him over. Indeed, he was growing quickly. With his body erect and his neck extended, his head was now out of reach of her hand, even if she stood on tiptoes. As he folded his wings, his jet black scales glistened in the light of Solarus, highlighting the lovely lines in his chest, shoulders, and flanks. He was truly spectacular. And for some reason, his eyes no longer glowed blue. They were now a blend of brown and black, typical of many dragons in the land.
He glanced at her, his ears twitching. That was the signal. He couldn’t see her, of course, but he wanted to make pretense that he had no handicaps, at least until the proper time.
She took a step forward and spread out her arms, fanning her cloak. As she opened her mouth to speak, her arms and legs trembled. Maybe no one would notice. Fortunately Taushin had provided her with an opening script, but at some point she would have to speak on her own.
“My fellow humans,” she called with a voice deeper and more resonant than she expected, “you know me as Koren, the servant of Arxad, the noble priest who has acted as your faithful intercessor throughout the generations. I learned a great deal under his gentle tutelage, including the fact that I am the fulfillment of a great prophecy. Some of you know the story of Cassabrie the Starlighter and how she failed in her quest to set you free from your captivity. She was a prophetess, not your deliverer. She acted as a forerunner, preparing you for the final Starlighter who would usher in the new king of the dragons, the prince hatched from a black egg.”
Keeping her eyes focused on Tamminy, she paused for effect. Then, lowering her arms and pulling her cloak to herself to make it swirl, she added, “I am that Starlighter.”
A new buzz passed through the crowd. Humans glanced at each other, whispering in confused or frightened tones. Koren waited for the next step.
Tamminy lifted his head higher and spoke above the murmurs. “The new king was prophesied to be handicapped. Yet this young dragon appears to be in good health. In fact, he is quite a fine specimen. If he is the expected king, what is his handicap?”
Koren resisted smiling. Taushin had predicted Tamminy’s protest, almost word for word. Resuming her orator??
?s tone, Koren kept her stare trained on the old bard. “Taushin is handicapped indeed, for he is blind, born without vision so that the Creator’s power can be displayed more fully in him.”
The crowd again erupted in whispers, louder this time. Tamminy gave their confusion a single voice. “How can a blind dragon fly? We all saw him maneuver with elegance and precision. It is impossible.”
This time Koren allowed a small smile to break through. She grasped Petra’s hand and pulled her to the front. “Can a child without a tongue communicate?” She turned to Petra and spoke to her in sign language, saying, “Tell us why you are happy.”
Koren glanced at Taushin. He had said that no one would question this odd device, signing to Petra when she had no trouble hearing. It made for a dramatic illustration.
Petra used her hands to reply, making sure everyone could see her, just as she had been instructed.
Madam Orley spoke up. “That child can say more with her hands than most people can with their voices. Lacking a tongue never stopped her. She is saying that she is no longer a slave. Taushin has set her free.”
“In the same way,” Koren continued, “the new dragon king has overcome his handicap in a unique manner. He is able to see through my eyes.”
As a hush fell over the crowd, Tamminy’s scaly brow lifted. “I am sure we would all be edified by a display of our new king’s abilities.”
A murmur of agreement rose from the crowd, and heads bobbed like driftwood on the river.
Koren’s smile faltered. Again Taushin had guessed correctly. Why were these people so predictable? They seemed like mindless bodies ready to be filled with any notion Taushin wished to inject.
Turning, she swept her arm toward Zena. “Tamminy, soon you will observe and believe.”
Taushin lowered his neck, allowing Zena to place the egg bag over his head. With his face covered, he turned toward the Zodiac.
“Now,” Koren said, again looking at Tamminy, “what do you wish to show me so that your new king can prove his miraculous vision?”
Tamminy extended his neck toward the dragon at his side and whispered in his ear. After the two conversed quietly for a moment, Tamminy again focused on Koren. He scraped a claw on the ground and lifted a small stone from the cobbled pavement.
“A pebble,” Taushin called out, his voice muffled by the bag.
Tamminy tossed the pebble into the air and caught it in his mouth.
A laugh erupted from the bag. “They say that prophets sometimes speak hard truths, my good bard, but I do not think eating pebbles will enhance your songs.”
As laughter spread from one smiling face to another, Tamminy spat out the pebble and joined in. “Well, Taushin, you have certainly made a fool out of this old bard, but perhaps you can explain another miracle. I have known Koren for quite some time. She has often paused to hear one of my poems. I will never forget her green-eyed stare of wonder. So could you tell us how she now has blue eyes? They shine so brightly, I am sure we all can see them.”
Madam Orley spoke up again. “I can see them. She always had green eyes when she worked with me.”
Koren blinked. Blue eyes? How could that be? Had her connection with Taushin changed her that much?
Taushin lowered his head and let the bag slide off. Then, turning back to the crowd, he spoke with a voice that nearly thundered. “Hear me, dragons and humans alike. You have seen for yourselves that I am indeed the dragon hatched from the black egg, your new king. I have overcome my handicap, and I am able to see through this gifted girl. The Starlighter’s transformation is merely a sign that I speak the truth.”
As another hush descended, Taushin lowered his voice. “Those who recognize my authority, those who help me establish a new kingdom, will surely be rewarded. And those who resist will fall by the wayside.”
“It is not that I doubt you,” Tamminy said. “I am merely wondering what Magnar has to say about all this. His control over this land has been complete and long lasting, so what of our allegiance to him? Although he has been reclusive of late, why is he not here?”
“Your question is just,” Taushin said as he spread a wing toward Koren. “Our Starlighter will give you the answer and prove her gift at the same time.”
Koren bit her lip. The final prediction came true. Now it was time for her to perform without a script.
Taushin backed away, signaling for Zena and Petra to give Koren room. “Now, Starlighter,” he said. “Tell us a tale. Where has Magnar gone and why?”
Jason trudged to the top of a snow-covered ridge and looked out over a shallow valley of white, sprinkled with evergreens protruding from the wintry blanket. With the ridge curving around the valley in an enormous circle and rising to mountains on the far side, the scene appeared to be a bowl filled with ice, snow, and …
Squinting as Solarus glittered on the frosty landscape, he said out loud, “A castle?”
At the far side of the bowl, an immense structure sat at the foot of a snowcapped mountain. Although ivory-colored stone covered most of the outside, something red coated the cylindrical shapes of three turrets on the top floor.
Uriel joined him on the ridge, puffing clouds of vapor. “Yes, that’s the place—my prison. And, like a fool, now I’m marching right back into the icy enclave.”
The old man’s wrinkled face gave away his concern. Why should they trust Arxad’s word that someone in the Northlands might help them? Maybe it was all a ploy to get them thrown into a prison so they couldn’t complete their mission.
“We’ll just have to be careful,” Jason said, touching the hilt of his sword. “I wasn’t planning to walk right up to the front door.”
Cassabrie giggled. Of course not, Jason. No one can get there on foot.
Jason raised a finger, a sign he and Uriel had agreed upon to indicate he was speaking to the Starlighter within. “Cassabrie, I’m tired of playing games. Just tell me. Who is there?”
No matter how many times you ask me, I will not say. I am under strict orders.
“Suit yourself.” Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Jason strode over the ridge toward the castle. With the first step down the slope, an odd sensation tickled his feet and began running up his legs. Was it dread? No. He wasn’t scared, at least not much. Excitement? Not really. Exhaustion had drained that away miles ago. What could it be?
“You’re feeling it,” Uriel said. “I can tell.”
“I do feel something. What is it?”
“The dragon. Whenever he was near, I got so jumpy I felt like hopping right out of my skin.”
Jason shivered, casting some of the sensation away. Should he and Uriel duck under the boughs of the evergreens? If the dragon flew patrol nearby, it would be better to see it before it saw them.
After locating a forested area to the left, Jason strode quickly toward it. Unfortunately, he couldn’t avoid making a trail in the snow, but if they could find some ice, perhaps a frozen river, maybe they could throw off any potential pursuer.
The snow grew so deep, they had to lift their arms and wade through waist-high powder. Jason cut the path, making it easier for Uriel. With Cassabrie providing plenty of body heat, the icy crystals didn’t bother him at all.
Finally, the snow hardened, and they stepped up to a compacted path. With various tracks from deerlike hooves and feline paws, it appeared to be the main thoroughfare for this desolate land.
Uriel pointed. “It leads out of the woods toward the castle.”
“I see. Straight into the open where we’ll look like ink splotches on a sheet of white paper.”
Go to the castle, Cassabrie said, this time with firmness in her tone. There is no use wasting precious minutes. If you want help, that’s where you’ll find it.
Jason raised a finger again. “You said I couldn’t get there on foot.”
You can’t. Just go. You will see.
Rolling his eyes, Jason looked at Uriel. “Cassabrie says we should go to the castle—that we’ll see how to get th
ere.”
“If you think that plan is best. I do prefer the comforts of the white dragon’s prison to this exposure. We will not last long out here.”
“Comforts?” Jason asked. “So that place wasn’t as bad as you said?”
“It’s all relative, my friend. I never said my accommodations were uncomfortable, only that I was imprisoned. Whenever freedom is lost, even luxury becomes nothing more than overdressed chains.”
“Was the dragon cruel?”
“No. Not at all. He was … well … I don’t know how to describe it. Magical, perhaps. Mysterious. You would have to be with him to understand.”
“Let’s hope I can skip that experience.” Jason drew his sword and followed the path. As they emerged from the forest, he looked up at the sky, so clear and impossibly blue it seemed unreal. No dragons patrolled the area, only a golden eagle drifting lazily between them and the castle.
After tramping silently for nearly half an hour, with Jason scanning the sky every few seconds, they reached a river capped by a coat of blue-tinted ice. He looked back at Uriel. “Did you cross this river?”
Uriel shook his head. “The dragon flew me over it and dropped me off beyond the ridge.”
Jason set a foot on the ice and leaned his weight forward. It seemed solid. Yet Cassabrie had warned about not being able to go on foot. Falling into frigid water would be a terrible way to prove it.
“Look.” Uriel pointed at a layer of snow over the ice. “Those tracks are from a hefty animal, and they go to the other side.”
Jason walked to the river’s edge, closer to the tracks. Indeed, they appeared to be those of a bear, and a big one at that. It had to weigh at least as much as the two of them combined. “Cassabrie?” he said, raising a finger. “What should we do?”
Well, what does the evidence indicate?