The Dragon's Lair

  All along the sides of the castle near where the roofs met the walls was a walkway with stations where guards were walking back and forth, crossbows in their hands, patrolling.

  Beyond the walls Ven could hear the sounds of merriment and laughter. Music was playing in the open-air courtyard, and occasionally a firework would shoot off, brightening the sky with colorful sparkles, to thunderous applause and a chorus of oooos and ahhhs from inside the palace walls.

  Char was standing beside him.

  "Wouldn't the Spice Folk love that," he said. "It makes me almost wish they were here, so they would stop stuffin' their glitter up my nose while I'm sleepin'."

  "They only do it because they like you," Ven said absently. "Didn't you hear Clem?"

  "Yeah, right. So what now?"

  Ven stood and walked toward the front of the wagon, trying to keep from stepping on his friends in the dark. He climbed over the seat board and sat down next to Tuck.

  "What do we do now?" he asked the Lirin forester.

  "If you want to cross the river at night, you will have to be brought before the River King," Tuck replied. "If you can wait until morning, you can just pay a hefty toll and they will probably leave you alone."

  "What time is it?" Ven asked.

  "Just barely past nightfall," Tuck said. "We'll be out here without cover for almost nine hours if we wait."

  "Sounds like a bad idea to me," Ven said. "I guess we may as well take our chances with Regis."

  "As you wish," said Tuck. "Better wake the others." He gave the reins a gentle tap as Ven turned and climbed back into the wagon bed.

  Char was already shaking Clemency, who stretched and yawned next to the water barrel. In turn, Clem woke Saeli, who sat up, rubbing her eyes, the keekee yawning and rubbing its eyes from atop her head as well. Ven made his way over to the sacks of grain and carefully poked Ida, who snorted in her sleep and rolled back over. He jabbed her with his finger again.

  "Come on, Ida, shake a leg," he said, moving to the back of the wagon. He bent down beside the sleeping merrow and gently touched her shoulder. "Amariel," he whispered. "Wake up."

  The merrow stretched and sat up, her long dark hair gleaming silver in the moonlight.

  "I was having the most wonderful dream," she murmured. "I was dreaming about a palace—"

  "Like that one, maybe?" Ven said, pointing to the bridge.

  The merrow's mouth dropped open, and her eyes grew wide.

  "Almost exactly," she said. "I wonder if it has a strange twisty-looking thing like it did in my dream."

  "What kind of a twisty-looking thing?"

  Amariel yawned.

  "I don't remember," she said. "It was something you looked through, I think. But it's fading already. You wrecked my dream."

  "Sorry about that," Ven said. He started back to the front of the wagon, nudging Ida with his toe as he passed her.

  Tuck had maneuvered the wagon to the entrance of the passageway that spanned the river. He stopped at a respectful distance and waited for the guards to come around the corner of the elevated walkway.

  "Hail!" he called to them. "Good evening. We seek passage through to the other side."

  Two of the guards atop the wall pointed their crossbows at the wagon, while a third one laughed.

  "You hardly look as if you can afford the expense of our opening the gates this late," he said cheerfully. "Are you sure you don't want to wait until morning?"

  "Alas, we cannot," Tuck answered. "We need to keep to our schedule."

  "So be it," said the guard. "You'll have to plead your case to the River King. Be warned, however, he's in the midst of merriment, and he does not take interruption well."

  "Thanks for the warning," said Tuck. "Please let us in all the same."

  While the two crossbowmen kept their weapons trained on the wagon, the third disappeared around the corner of the wall. A moment later, two massive signal fires sprang to life on either side of the passageway, flooding the riverbank with light.

  It looked for a moment as if the sun had come out in the middle of the night. Everyone in the wagon fell back, crying out in pain and shielding their eyes, except for Ida, who was still snoring away.

  In the bright light I could see that the palace of the River King was far more beautiful than I had imagined. It was built of many different kinds of wood and stone of all different colors that had been fashioned into a great mural of pictures, some showing scenes of sailing ships, others representing great forests, still others depicting people I did not recognize, probably historical figures. I also saw that to the south where up until now we had seen fields stood a great forest on both sides of the river. From the maps I had seen in the king's castle, I wondered if this was the beginning of the Enchanted Forest that both the king and Tuck had mentioned.

  I had heard no tales of the Enchanted Forest, but the name was enough to set my curiosity flaming as brightly as the signal fires.

  A great grinding sound could be heard over the noise of merriment beyond the wall. Slowly, the gates of the passageway across the river began to open.

  Ven turned around to see the heads of four of his friends peeking above the provisions.

  "Somebody kick Ida," he said. "She needs to wake up now."

  "Whoa, not me," said Char hastily. "I need both my legs, thank you. I've managed to sail all my life without gettin' a peg leg. Don't wanna change that now. You want her kicked, you kick her."

  A slamming sound echoed in the night as the gates opened all the way.

  "This way!" shouted a voice from inside the walls. "Hurry—the longer the gates are open, the more it costs you."

  Tuck clicked to the horses, and the wagon lurched forward with a jolt. Ida sat upright, slapping at the sacks of grain around her as if she'd been attacked.

  "Well, good evenin', Your Majesty," said Char sarcastically. "We're enterin' the palace now. Ya might wanna freshen up and put your tiara on."

  "Whoa," said Ida as the wagon approached the gate. "It is a palace."

  "River King," Ven said. "Therefore, palace."

  Ida looked over at the merrow. "Since we're goin' to meet a king, p'rhaps you should wear your fancy ball gown, Amariel," she said. "Since he's a thief of sorts an' deals in river traffic, he shouldn't have a problem with it bein' so ratty."

  Ven felt his temper snap. "Leave her alone!" he shouted. "Stop being a brat. She's done nothing to you."

  "Stop yelling, Ven," Clemency said. "It doesn't help."

  "Yes it does," said Ven. "It keeps me from slapping her."

  "You do an' I'll spit in your eye," retorted Ida smugly. "Or I'll get your friend to do it for me."

  "Everyone be quiet," commanded Tuck. There was a ring to his voice that sounded like that of the king. The children fell silent.

  They passed under the arch of the wall, the wagon wheels clattering on the wooden planks of the bridge. The light from the signal fires was doused, and they found themselves in the darkness of the tunnel leading beneath the palace wall.

  A few moments later light returned as the wagon entered an enormous courtyard. Beyond the wall, huge fires burned in roasting pits over which oxen and ducks, turkeys and pigs hung on spits, turned and basted by servants in bright colored clothing. A large band of brass horns and stringed instruments was playing in the center of courtyard, filling it with merry music. And everywhere were people, Lirin and human, talking, laughing, and exchanging money.

  Two guards from either side of the tunnel stepped forward and took hold of the horses' bridles.

  "Dismount," the one on the left said to Tuck. "And bring your passengers with you. Leave your goods."

  "Do you hear that, children?" Tuck said, looking directly at Ven. "Leave all the provisions and supplies in the wagon." His eyes fell on Ven's pocket, and Ven nodded his understanding. He climbed out of the back of the wagon, followed by Char, Clemency, Saeli, and finally Ida. Only Amariel remained in the wagon bed, staring at the sea of humans and Lirin.


  Tuck extended his hand to her.

  "Don't be afraid," he said. His voice was more gentle than Ven had ever heard it. "Come with us."

  "I'm not afraid," Amariel said. "I just don't like the way this place smells."

  "Liar," muttered Ida. Clemency snorted softly.

  Tuck shot a glance at the girls, who went silent. He turned back to the merrow, who gave him her hand, and Tuck helped her out of the wagon.

  Two more guards came forward and signaled for the group to follow them. Tuck led the way, followed by the children, past tables piled high with sweet-smelling pastries reeking of cinnamon and sweet sugar glaze, enormous steaming vats of hot spiced cider spilling clouds of delicious vapor into the air, fruit platters bearing mountains of strawberries and clouds of whipped cream, and wheels of cheese that dwarfed even the largest one that had been delivered to the Crossroads Inn earlier that morning.

  Was that really just today? Ven wondered as he passed a fountain of sharp-smelling liquid that bubbled and fizzed as it cascaded in waterfalls over stones made of ice. It seems like so long ago already.

  They were led halfway across the courtyard and then turned to the north toward the front of the river palace. There, a giant winding staircase made of polished wood reached up to one of the highest angled sections of the magnificent building.

  The guards stopped at the bottom of the stairs. One of them pointed to the top.

  "Up you go," he said. The other started up the staircase in front of them.

  "Thank you," Tuck replied. "Come along, children."

  They climbed the stairs, one by one, making three complete revolutions before reaching the top. When they stepped out onto the platform beyond the staircase, they stopped and gazed in wonder.

  The staircase opened to a giant room with soaring ceilings held up by glossy wooden beams. The room was ablaze with light from bright torches on every wall, held by sconces that looked like silver human arms. In a stone fireplace in the eastern wall of the room a mammoth fire glowed, sparking every now and again in bright colors that matched the fireworks in the skies above the palace. Trees grew through the floor, their roots seemingly lodged in the mud of the river below, their branches extending up through the ceiling and into the night sky.

  In the middle of the beautiful room stood a polished wooden throne with a glorious tapestry behind it, its arched back set in gleaming coins that ran in channels down the wooden arms of the throne as well. It stood in the middle of an equally glorious carpet atop a platform with two steps leading up to it.

  Sitting on the throne was a tall, broad-shouldered man with what appeared to be strong arms and legs, a barrel chest and a rounded belly. His hair was curly and black, his face wide and jolly and rimmed in a thick black beard. In spite of the grandeur of his throne room, he was dressed simply in the clothes of a riverman and he wore no crown on his head. In his hand was a long, curled pipe of polished wood with a beautiful inlay. No smoke came from its bowl.

  The expression on the man's face was solemn, but his black eyes twinkled.

  "Well, well," he said. "What have we here?"

  "This man insisted on nighttime admittance, Regis," said the guard who had escorted them up the stairs. "I explained the penalties, but he insisted."

  "Did he, now?" said the River King. "Must be a foolish man. What did he have to ferry across?"

  "Only standard provisions, fruits, grains, vegetables, water and the like," said the soldier. "Strangely, it only appears to be enough for personal use. There is certainly not enough for sale. And some streaks of fresh human blood in the wagon."

  "Any arms?"

  "Only a crossbow and a quiver full of bolts. Looks to be of Lirinved manufacture."

  "Interesting," said the River King. "We have Lirinved through here every now and then, but not often, and almost never at night." He looked at Tuck directly, as if sizing him up. Then his gaze turned to Ven.

  "But then, he's not the leader of this expedition, is he?" Regis asked, smiling darkly. "This gentleman may be your guide, but you are the reason for the summoning of my guards, the entering of my palace at night, the interruption of my revels. Am I wrong?"

  "No, sir," Ven said hesitantly.

  "Good—honesty is good," said the River King. "It may save you at least some of what you have."

  He rose from his seat and came over until he stood directly in front of Ven, looking down at him from the platform.

  "What's your name?" he asked flatly.

  "Ven Polypheme, sir."

  "Polypheme, eh? There's a family of shipwrights by that name that make excellent sailing vessels. Any relation?"

  Ven thought about the wisdom of his answer, and about how far away his family was. If he knows my father, it's probably to my advantage, he thought. If he's met one of my brothers, on the other hand, maybe not. "A distant one," he said finally.

  Regis nodded. "Well, then, welcome to my home, Ven Polypheme. You appear to be in good company." He looked around at the group. "Between you and your friends, I imagine you speak many languages."

  "A few," Ven said. He wished his voice didn't sound so uncertain.

  The River King smiled, showing beautiful white teeth.

  "Good," he said. "That might be the only thing that saves your lives."

  11

  The River King's Riddle

  WHY ARE YOU THREATENIN' US?" CHAR EXPLODED. "WE'VE DONE nothin' to you!"

  "Shhh, Char," Clem whispered.

  Ven coughed as the River King turned in the direction of his best friend, the look in his eyes deadly.

  "He has a point, sir," he said, hoping to draw the king's attention back to himself. "We are willing to pay the toll for night crossing. Why does that mean our lives are in danger?"

  Regis watched Char a moment longer, then turned back to Ven.

  "Because you have fresh blood in your wagon," he said. "It's not the juice of meat that you are carting to sell across the river—it's human blood, spilled recently. I am responsible for this region, as well as for this bridge. I mean to see that anyone who crosses through my palace is worthy to do so—and those who are not, well, they don't make it across. It's as simple as that."

  "That's my blood." Char pointed to the bandage on his head. "Spilled by accident. Surely you're not gonna hold that against us."

  "How is worthiness determined?" Tuck asked, forestalling Regis's answer.

  The River King spread his hands open wide.

  "By means of a simple riddle," he said pleasantly. "If you answer it correctly, you will gain my favor and free passage over my bridge. If you answer wrong, or cannot answer it at all, you will be charged whatever I deem appropriate for you to pay. On good days, that may be in coin, and maybe you have enough coin to pay the toll. On bad days, well—let's just hope this is not a bad day."

  Ven could hear Clemency, Saeli and Ida all sigh at the same time.

  "What's the riddle?" he asked.

  The River King's eyes glinted merrily. He stepped down from the platform and walked in front of each of the children, sizing them up carefully. Finally he pointed to Char, Clem, and Ida.

  "Step back, please. You three have no chance of answering this riddle." The children looked at each other, then took a step back. Regis turned to Tuck. "Now, you, sir, on the other hand, might be able to do so. Would you like to make your attempt first, or last?"

  "First," said Tuck without hesitation.

  "Very well," said Regis. He rubbed his hands together with pleasure. "Fleethe sidriel mux, atonay var. Nidley, hrenx."

  Tuck said nothing.

  "Can you answer the riddle?" the River King asked.

  "As I do not speak that language, no, I cannot," said Tuck.

  "Ah, well," said Regis. "Too bad. Anyone else like to try?"

  I had never heard those words, or any like them, before. My command of the Nain language was rusty, but I was certain the words were not in my native tongue. Clearly they were not examples of the Lirin language, either, or Tuck
would have known them. For all I knew, they might have been a magical countersign or some sort of religious incantation. I glanced over at Clemency, but her face was blank.

  Less than one turn of the sun ago, McLean had said that I had the feel of a big day about me.

  I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that we were about to learn whether or not it was a bad day shortly.

  The River King turned to Saeli.

  "How about you, little one?" he asked, his voice as smooth as honey. "Would you like to take a stab at it? Fleethe sidriel mux, atonay var. Nidley, hrenx."

  The tiny Gwadd girl shook her head, then burst into tears. Clemency stepped forward, watching the River King, and put an arm around her shoulders.

  "Now, now, buck up, lass," Regis said cheerfully. "Maybe your friends have a better idea." He looked at Ven. "Well, young Polypheme? Do you know the answer?"

  "No."

  "Tut, tut," Regis clucked, "this isn't going well at all. What a shame." He looked at last at the merrow. Amariel was white as a ghost. "One more time," the River King said. "Any guesses? Fleethe sidriel mux, atonay var. Nidley, hrenx."

  "Yes, it is," the merrow said.

  The smile faded from the River King's face. He regarded Amariel seriously.

  "Excuse me?" he said. "What do you mean?"

  "Yes, it is," Amariel repeated. "I'm agreeing with you."

  "You understand the language?" Regis asked.

  "I think so."

  The River King leaned closer to her. "And what do the words mean?"

  The merrow's brows drew together. "You don't know?"

  Regis coughed. "Well, no," he admitted. "If I knew what they meant, it would hardly be a riddle, now, would it?"

  Amariel shrugged. "I suppose not," she said. "But it's only a riddle for you, then, isn't it?"

  Regis cleared his throat. "Your point is well taken," he said. "What do the words mean?"

  Amariel glanced at Ven, who nodded quickly. " 'Kindly stop dumping your horse dung in the river,' " she translated. " 'It's disgusting.' "

  The River King's jaw dropped. "That's it? Are you certain?"