"Not without my friend," Ven said. "He's of no use to you."
"He is if he is a spy," Garson retorted. "Keeping him here as a hostage prevents the Lirin from finding the routes into our mountains, should they desire to attack us. Save your breath. You're not getting him back—even if he does live."
"Oh, for goodness' sake!" Ven shouted, exasperated. "The Lirin blame all their problems on you. You blame all your problems on the Lirin. You both think the other is going to attack, when neither of you have any interest in doing so. Let me propose a deal."
Garson folded his hands patiently, but his eyes were dark and piercing.
"Propose."
"If I can discover why the dragon is really attacking your settlements, you will give me back my friend," Ven said. "And if I can determine how to keep the dragon from attacking you ever again, you will return to the Lirin what you have of theirs. Is it a deal?"
Garson wheeled back as if struck across the face.
"You disrespectful whelp," he said through his teeth. "What we have does not belong to the Lirin in any way—it belongs to us. Or, more correctly, to itself. It is a dragon's egg—and we found it, we did not steal it, in spite of their accusations of theft. We have it in the warmest, safest place on this island—the proof being that we have had it for centuries, and neither Scarnag nor the Lirin have ever found it. It is our hope to hatch it, and rear it with great love and gentleness, but to also train it to defend our kingdom. In this way, we hope to ease a small bit of the agony we feel for the loss of Ganrax, who was so young and special.
"So, no—I will promise you nothing about the egg, as if I would even believe such a prevention was possible. But I am a fair man. If you can discover the reason the dragon has a vendetta against the Nain, I will allow you to ransom back your friend. Agreed?"
"Agreed," said Ven. Unlike Alvarran, who was of an unfamiliar culture, he knew Garson would expect a handshake, as any Nain would. So he held his hands up in the air and climbed down from the wagon, then offered his hand.
"You are very grown up for a beardless Nain," Garson said as he shook it. "It's unfortunate that you are choosing to throw your life away and die young, much the way Ganrax did. In his case, however, it wasn't his fault. In yours, it is. Make certain you write to your family before you approach the dragon's lair. They should get to hear from you one last time—unless your letter burns when you do."
"Do you know how to get to the lair, and where it is?"
Garson smiled. "I do—we all do, because the beast now occupies the magnificent fortress that was built for the little wyrmling Ganrax by Nain long ago. I will draw a map for you, but the easiest way to find it is to follow the sun west and follow the wind south. If you do that, you will come upon a lake so clear that you can see all the way to the bottom. At Crystal Lake, follow the stream that flows southwest, and you will eventually find a large, circular mound coiled like a great serpent. That is the dragon's lair. It's a magnificent structure, which is nice, as it is the last thing you will ever see."
"Thank you for the directions," Ven said. "Take good care of my friend. I will be back for him shortly. And then, depending on what I find, I will propose my offer to you again."
Garson laughed aloud. "Well, if I had to waste a bolt on a Lirin spy, at least it was worth it to have gotten to spar with you, Ven Polypheme. I wish you were going to live longer—you would be fun to talk to. Good luck—I hope it's as painless a death as possible. But I doubt it will be."
Ven bowed and returned to the wagon.
"Clem," he said, "you drive. You're the tallest."
Clem nodded silently and climbed onto Tuck's seat on the wagon board.
Ven climbed into the back.
"All right," he said to Char. "On to the last piece of the puzzle—and the only one from which we may not recover."
21
A Decision for the Ages
THEY TRAVELED IN SILENCE, JUST AS THEY HAD SINCE THE BIG fight over the cap.
Ven tried hard not to think about the merrow. She had become pleasant, never spitting, glaring or even disagreeing with anyone anymore. The picture in his hand itched, reminding him that unless by some miracle her cap could be found, he only had one option left for her.
One night he ran his hand through his pocket again, as he had done a million times before, just in case he had missed it. It was not there, of course, but instead his hand brushed the jack-rule. Having nothing better to do, and being afraid of the dreams that would come with sleep, Ven took the tool out of his pocket and examined it idly.
The fact that this tool had been the pride and joy of both his father, Pepin, and his great-grandfather, Magnus the Mad, had made it a favorite of Ven's, too. He had received it from Pepin on his fiftieth birthday, the last time he had seen anyone in his family. He was only about twelve in human years, but he felt much older.
He ran his fingers over the beautiful folding ruler, admiring its tiny hinges and the tools hidden within it. There was something soothing about it, a vibration that reminded him of his family, and of home.
Homesickness started to overwhelm him, so he quickly put the jack-rule back in his pocket.
As he did, his fingers brushed the smooth envelope of Black Ivory that had been next to it.
Carefully Ven withdrew the envelope and ran his fingertip over the sharp edge of the dragon scale card that stuck out of the top. He had not taken it out or even looked at it since the night Tuck had become so angry at him.
Put that bloody thing away, Ven. Do you want the dragon to find us?
N—no.
Well, I can feel it when you pull it out of the Black Ivory—it vibrates so strongly that my teeth sting. So if I can feel it, don't you think a dragon can? Perhaps from miles away.
Interesting, Ven thought now as he examined the Black Ivory sleeve. Here we are, so close to the dragon's lair—maybe this will come in useful after all.
He shook Char awake, then the others. The girls rubbed their eyes in confusion, wondering why the sky was still dark.
"I have a thought," he said to them.
Ida rolled over, preparing to go back to sleep. "Don't worry—it will die of loneliness in a minute or two. Good night."
Ven nudged her with his toe.
"Wake up, Ida," he said quietly. "I have something important to tell you—all of you."
"What is it?" Char asked drowsily.
Ven held up the sleeve.
"This is a wallet of sorts, given to me by Madame Sharra just before we left on this journey," he said. The other children blinked, and Ven felt a sudden rush of pleasure and relief at finally being able to spill the secrets he had carried so long. "It's made of a substance called Black Ivory, which is basically stone that is completely dead. Anything housed within Black Ivory is almost impossible to detect, even by someone who is very good at reading vibrations on the wind."
"Like a dragon?" Clem asked, staring at the sleeve.
"Yes. As interesting as that is, what's inside the sleeve is even more interesting—it's one of the cards she uses to tell fortunes in the Thieves' Market."
"You're kidding," said Clem, now fully awake.
"I'm not. She appeared to me in Kingston and tried to read my fortune, because she said she was unable to see a path for me beyond the next hill. In other words, she doesn't think I have much of a future."
"What does that mean?" asked Ida from the corner of the wagon.
"I don't know," said Ven. "Maybe I'm about to die." He held up his hand as Clem gasped. "Who knows? It could mean anything. But one thing I am determined to have it mean is that I make a good decision about what to do with this gift.
"When we were in the Market, before the Queen of Thieves got hold of us, Madame Sharra told me in my first reading that most of the cards in her deck were really dragon scales that were given freely by the dragons long ago, when the world was pretty new. Those dragons gave these scales to do something very noble, something that saved the world. Each scale came from
a different dragon. A little bit of each dragon's magical lore, the power it could use that came from the earth itself, is still in the scales.
"Each time a new dragon is born in the world, the scales grow in power. That has always been a rare event, but it is even more so now. That power dwindles as each dragon dies as well. One day, as man or Time finally destroys the dragon race, the scales will be nothing more than cards with images on them no one can see any longer. At least that's what Madame Sharra said."
"What's your point?" Ida asked impatiently.
Ven sighed. "Inside this sleeve is one of those cards. I have no idea why she gave it to me—when I looked back to ask her, she was gone. It's called the Endless Mountains, and that's what the picture on it looks like. I would show it to you, but if the dragon's in his lair, he will immediately know that it, and we, are here.
"I've decided the scale would be a good offering to this dragon, Scarnag," he went on. "I have to get him to trust me, and I think this might be the thing to do it."
"You're a funny one to talk about trust, Ven," Clemency said quietly.
"I know. I know, and I'm sorry. I haven't been very trusting, or trustworthy, and if we all live through this, I am hoping you will all let me make amends to you. Learning to make amends is what everyone the king sent me to needs—the Lirin, the Nain, maybe even this dragon. He killed a baby dragon named Ganrax—at least the Nain think he did. Maybe he just told them that he did. Who knows? But we never will find out unless we try. Since I don't seem to have that much time left to me, I guess I'm the one to do it."
"How?" asked Clemency.
"I think I just need to give this scale to him. Maybe it was his in the first place—I bet he was one of those old dragons who donated a scale to that noble undertaking that saved the world. I need to get him to trust me. If I give it back without asking for anything in return, in a gesture of trust, perhaps the dragon will tell me what I need to know to save Tuck, and maybe the Nain in the process."
"Even if you do, you're never gonna get those Nain to give the Lirin back that dragon's egg," Char pointed out. "Never in a million years."
"Maybe not," said Ven. "But one thing at a time. First I have to survive the scourge of the Island." He stood up and stretched. "And even before that, I need to tell you all that I'm sorry for not trusting you as I should have, and for making you feel you are less important to me than you are. After my family, you are the most important people in the world to me. If I live, I will make amends to each of you by telling you the truth about Amariel, as well as any other secret I still have left. If I don't, please believe that I love each of you very much—and get safely home."
He looked down at the sleeve with the scale in his hand.
"Now, while I still have feet, I'm going to leave some footprints in the sands of time."
22
Into the Jaws of the Beast
AFTER HE HAD HUGGED ALL HIS FRIENDS GOODBYE, EVEN THE passive merrow, Ven followed the stream that flowed southwest, as Garson had said.
The stream wound into what must have been, centuries before, part of the basin of the Great River. The ground was damp and marshy, perfect to surround a dragon's lair, Ven realized, because anything fleeing the cave would become bogged down in the mire.
I'm not worried, he thought. Death was in the back of his mind, but it did not hover like a threat, but rather lingered, a little bit like someone holding the door open for him.
Finally he came to a circular mound, part of a giant hillside carved to resemble a coiled serpent. Ven held his breath. The structure was magnificent and terrifying at the same time, with battlements that seemed impenetrable surrounding it.
He traveled all the way around the hill to the far side to find the entrance. It was an enormous portal, shaped like the open mouth of a massive serpent, stalactite fangs hanging from the roof both inside and outside. Even as calm as he was, those pointed stone spikes made the hair on the back of his head stand up.
He was but a few steps from that frightening entrance when a voice, deep in tone and hissing in vibration, blasted his ears.
"Ah, how long it has been since a young fool has come calling at my door," the terrifying voice said. In spite of its depth and hiss, it was also smooth and sweet like honey. "And a Nain, at that. What are you doing here, boy? Can youth no longer find less painful ways to die these days?"
"I did not come to die, unless you insist—"
"Yes, if I do, you will."
"—but rather with a gift instead," Ven said into the large opening.
There was a moment of silence, then a deep and nasty chuckle.
"A gift? How nice. Actually, they used to call that tribute. Today they call it a bribe."
"Not at all," Ven objected. "A bribe is a payment of a sort to get something in return. There is nothing I want from you except to return what I have with me, if it belongs to you."
"And if it does not, but I still want it, you know that I will take it, yes? Out of your dead hand, if necessary?"
"Yes," Ven agreed. "I know you can do that if you want. I'm hoping you won't, of course."
"Of course. So what is this gift?"
"I would be happy to show it to you," Ven said. "May I come in?"
The dragon laughed an extremely ugly laugh.
"Oh, yes, by all means, come in. I loved delivered food."
Ven stepped over the threshold and into the cave.
Beyond the serpent's mouth was a tunnel that glowed with red light, twisting in a spiral down to the ground below the hillside. Ven followed the tunnel, turning round and round in ever-smaller spirals, going deeper and deeper below the surface. His Nain eyes adjusted quickly, and he stared, fascinated, at the beautiful drawings and maps of the world that had been painted long ago on those walls.
"I hear that Nain are rather tasty roasted and dipped in chocolate," came the rumbling voice as he traveled deeper into the cave. "Do you have any objection to being devoured that way, if it satisfies my curiosity?"
Ven shrugged. "If you're going to devour me, chocolate seems fitting, as it's one of my favorite dipping sauces," he said as he walked. "But, being Nain, you should probably roll me in nuts as well before you eat me—Nain are very fond of nuts. Of course, you could also soak me in rum before you roast me—Nain are also very fond of rum."
"Oh, you are going to be delicious, I can just tell," said the dragon's voice.
"Good," said Ven. "I would hate to leave a bad taste in anyone's mouth, even a dragon's."
All along the way, the dragon taunted him. Sometimes the voice threatened, sometimes it hissed, but every word it uttered was a threat of ugliness that grew the closer he got to the bottom.
As he descended, the light from the lair at the bottom of the tunnel grew almost dazzlingly bright. Ven had to shield his eyes to be able to even see where the tunnel walls were.
Finally, just as he was about to turn the corner, the voice spoke more loudly than it had up until that point.
"Wait!" it said sternly. "This is your last chance to leave, boy. I've toyed with you long enough. If you round that corner, there will be no turning back."
Ven paused, still calm.
"I know," he said.
He came around the corner.
At first his eyes were almost blinded by the radiance of the inside of the dragon's lair. It was filled from the floor to the top of the ceiling with treasure that sparkled as if all the stars in the sky had been swept up and left in there.
But what was most amazing was the kind of treasure it was.
The center of the cave was an enormous vault of books of every sort. Maps and globes and scrolls hung on the walls, were piled on tables or even in stacks on the carpeted floor, rising all the way to the ceiling.
In the center of the room sat the dragon, the beast known as Scarnag. At first the sight of him took Ven's breath away. He was so big that his body almost filled the enormous chamber. He seemed to be formed from living earth itself, his brown, clay-li
ke hide striped in colors of purple and vermillion, red and green and aquamarine. His head was roughly shaped, with cruel spines descending all the way down his back to a tail that had softly rounded spikes on it. In the stone-like claws of one hand he was playing idly with some ruby-red gems. Puffs of acid smoke emerged like clouds from his nostrils.
On his broad, blunt nose rested a pair of eyeglasses.
Ven blinked in surprise.
"Do I have the pleasure of addressing, er, Scarnag?" he asked politely.
The dragon let loose a growl that rocked the walls like thunder.
"Yessss, you do," he hissed. "And do not let my appearance fool you. Just because you caught me reading doesn't mean I'm unwilling to spill your blood. I'm just unwilling to spill it on my books. Where's this gift you mentioned?"
Ven pulled the Black Ivory sleeve from his pocket.
"Here," he said.
The dragon snorted, unimpressed.
"I have plenty of Black Ivory. This whole cave is made of Black Ivory. How do you think I spare myself from stupid knights and Nain dragon hunters seeking revenge?"
"The sleeve is not the gift," Ven said. "It's what's inside."
"I see," said the dragon. "Well, what would that be?"
Carefully Ven pulled the scale from the sleeve and held it out to the dragon.
"This," he said simply.
The dragon reared back in surprise. His eyes glinted angrily, and acid smoke poured from his nostrils. For a long moment, he was speechless. When he could finally form words, they came out in an angry hiss.