The Dragon's Lair

  "So what will it be?" Ven asked. "North or south?"

  Saeli coughed, stood up, smoothed her rumpled hair, and pointed south. The keekee poked its head out of the hair at the base of her neck and pointed its tiny finger downriver as well.

  "I don't think we want ta be headin' north, no matter what," said Char. "I say we take our chances with the River King. Felonia may want you and Ida back, Ven, but when we were in her cages, she kept tellin' her guards to shoot me first. It might be nice for someone else ta have that honor for a while."

  "South it is," Ven said.

  Tuck said nothing, but clicked to the horses. The wagon rumbled off, leaving the roadway and heading slowly over the southern fields as the sun began to climb down the sky toward nightfall.

  9

  Heading East by Way of

  the South

  In our family, there's an old expression: "He's had one too many turns at the forge." It refers to someone who hears something and takes it in the wrong way, or finds meaning that no one else does in it. This is because the forge is a loud, hot part of the factory where ore is melted and shaped into steel on an anvil, usually by being banged on with hammers. When you've been working the forge for a while, your ears ring so much that you can barely hear what is said to you, and often you just hear pieces of it. So it's easy to misinterpret what people are saying. It also can mean someone who thinks he understands a situation perfectly, but in truth has it totally wrong.

  I was never really trusted to work there much, but back at home in Vaarn I was often accused of having had one too many turns at the forge.

  I suddenly understood why.

  Amariel is the most interesting person I have ever met. Maybe it's because I've never spoken to anyone who has a tail. Maybe it's because she's the first and only merrow I've ever gotten to talk to, or because she saved me from drowning when no one else could. Maybe I was sick with cold and saltwater fever when she told me all her merrow tales and sang me all her songs, because they have taken root in my brain. Each time I see her, I miss her when she goes back into the waves, because I am afraid I may never see her again.

  I am so happy she finally agreed to come with me. While my friends and I may be in danger from the Thief Queen's spies, at least we have each other, and Tuck. If I left Westland without taking Amariel with me, she would be waiting around the abandoned pier, wondering what had happened to me. She might feel abandoned herself—or, worse, she might be worried that something had happened to me, like I know my parents did when the Fire Pirates sank my father's ship.

  Worst of all, she might have stayed, waiting for me, and gotten caught by the Raven's Guild when the underwater tunnel was unsealed. Without her family, her school of other merrows to protect her, she wouldn't have had a chance. I am so relieved she decided to come along, not just because I miss her when she stays behind, but because I would never stop worrying about her. She is special to me.

  So I foolishly expected that my friends would like her as much as I do, or at least enough to welcome her into our group. They are all special to me as well, even Ida, who was being so obnoxious that I was almost tempted to leave her behind. But that turned out to be wrong-headed thinking, because it's not just Ida. Everyone except Saeli had made Amariel feel uncomfortable, frightened, or mad.

  Even Char, my best friend.

  And they don't mean to.

  Just like she has made them feel the same way with her strange misunderstandings of the dry world, her distrust of humans, and her tendency to spit.

  If there was anything I was certain of when I went to town this morning, it was that my friends would like Amariel and she would like them, too. I guess she was right when she told me to stop assuming how anyone else would feel.

  Because clearly I've had one too many turns at the forge.

  BY MID-AFTERNOON, THE MOON HAD RISEN. IT FLOATED IN THE pale blue sky, a white shadow of itself, fading in between the clouds passing in front of it.

  Tuck had suggested that the children take a nap, because they would arrive at the southern bridge well after nightfall, and it was a good idea to be awake and fresh when crossing the Great River. After a good deal of jostling and shoving, the six of them managed to find places in the wagon to lie down somewhat comfortably in between the bags and barrels. Clemency positioned herself near the wagon's side to keep Saeli from banging into it if the wagon should rock. Ida arranged a small mountain of grain sacks and snuggled down into it. Char curled up in the front of the wagon near Tuck's seat. And Ven lay down in the back end next to Amariel, who had moved as far away from the others as she could.

  "Are you feeling better?" he asked the merrow, who was shivering a little as the sun started to go down.

  "Not really," Amariel admitted. "I still don't like humans. But the dry world is interesting, I'll say that."

  "You aren't getting used to my friends, just a little?" Ven asked hopefully.

  "Well, the Gwadd is nice at least."

  "Just Saeli? You don't like any of the others?"

  Amariel sighed. "In case you hadn't noticed, Ven, they don't like me."

  "Give them a chance," Ven urged. "Once they get to know you, they will."

  "You really don't understand," said the merrow. "This is one of the reasons merrow mothers tell their merrowlings not to trust humans. Even when we look like them, even when we have legs, they can tell we're different. And humans don't like anyone who's different. Surely you must have found that to be true."

  Ven thought back to his first day on the Island. Char had flagged down a farmer to give them a ride to the Inn, but when the man discovered that Ven was Nain, he refused to let him into the wagon. Char, in turn, refused to accept the ride, and the man drove off, hurling insults at Ven.

  It was no different than what his brothers had experienced many times in Vaarn.

  "Yes," he said reluctantly. "I've had a few humans be nasty to me because I'm different. But as you can see, there are more of them who are nice, who don't care whether I'm human or not. Wasn't Mrs. Snodgrass kind to you?"

  "She was," said the merrow. "But she knows the sea. So she doesn't count. The rest of your friends aren't happy that I'm here. You wish they were, and maybe some of them will be, but right now it's very uncomfortable. Just leave it alone for a while, Ven. You aren't in charge of whether or not I have a good time in the dry world. I made that decision on my own. You're just in charge of keeping my cap safe and not letting anyone touch it, or even see it. As long as you do that, everything will be all right."

  Ven smiled. "I will. I promise. I'll try not to even open my pocket unless I have to."

  "Good," said the merrow. "Now, stop being such a blabbermouth and let me get some sleep."

  Ven waited until her eyes were closed and she was breathing steadily. Her mouth was open, and he noted that the edges of the lines that had once been her gills fluttered slightly each time she took a breath. When he was sure she was asleep, he rose and moved to the front of the wagon where Char was lying on his back, staring at the passing clouds, and lay down beside him.

  "You all right?" Ven asked his roommate.

  "Define 'all right'."

  "How's your head?"

  "Stopped bleedin'," Char said. "Feels like it was bein' used as an anvil all day."

  "I'll bet," said Ven. "Sorry."

  Char rolled on the side.

  "Would you like to tell me what the heck is going on, Ven?" he asked. "When I woke up this mornin', I knew it was gonna be a bad day; Murphy wrote it out for me just in case I wasn't sure." He pulled the leg of his trousers and pointed to the cat-scratch M. "But if I'd had any idea just how bad, I'd of climbed back inta bed, pulled the pillow over my head, and let the Spice Folk, Cadwalder, and Murphy do their worst to me tryin' to make me get up. I think you owe me an explanation at least."

  "I know," Ven said quietly. "Everything happened so quickly that even I don't know exactly what's going on."

  "Any little bit o' clarification will help. Yo
u came inta the Inn and said we was leavin'—then you went to town, and you came back with a wagon, a driver who's a great shot, and the weirdest girl I've ever met. I liked the way you was actin' like the Cap'n, but I think ya may have a mutiny on your hands soon unless you start explainin' what's goin' on here."

  "Do you remember the man who helped us carry the parsnips into the kitchen this morning?"

  Char looked perplexed. "I guess so."

  "That was the king."

  "What king?"

  "King Vandemere," Ven said. "I'm not joking. He had to sneak out of his own castle to get an urgent message to me, that ravens were gathering in huge flocks all throughout Westland and were even being seen east of the river. He knows about the Thief Queen, and wanted us to get away as soon as we could—all of us that might be in danger. He left Tuck with us to get us safely out of Westland, because he's a Lirin forester, and knows the lands east of the river better than anyone."

  "So where'dya go this mornin', then?" Char asked.

  Ven swallowed. He wanted to be honest with his best friend, but he felt that too much was known about the merrow already.

  "To town," he said simply. "To get supplies."

  "And your friend Amariel," Char said pointedly. "Who I never heard of 'til today."

  "Well, given the warm welcome she received from my other friends, perhaps you understand now why I didn't introduce her earlier," Ven said. "Mostly I haven't told you things because the time has been short, Char. But just in case you think I'm not sharing the important stuff, take a look at this."

  He held out his hand with the Black Ivory sleeve.

  "What's that?" Char asked.

  "It's a kind of stone called Black Ivory that's made into boxes and sleeves used for hiding powerful or magical things," Ven said softly. "I saw Madame Sharra in Kingston—"

  "Madame Sharra?"

  Ven clapped his hand over Char's mouth. "Keep your voice down," he cautioned. "She came to find me—I don't know how she got out of the Market when Felonia apparently isn't able to. She said she wanted to know why she was unable to see any future for me. And after she read my palm, she still couldn't see anything."

  "Blimey," Char whispered. "Does that mean you're gonna die?"

  "I asked the same thing. I don't know. But it doesn't look good."

  "Sorry to hear that, mate," Char said. "But I guess at least we'll go down together."

  "I hope not," said Ven. "Sharra gave me this stone, but she didn't explain anything about it. When I looked at it with the jack-rule, I could see it was a sleeve, like a wallet or a sheath for a sword—and there's a dragon scale inside it."

  "A dragon scale?"

  "Shhhh—stop repeating what I say," Ven said crossly. He put the stone in his pocket next to the merrow cap and the jack-rule, and buttoned it carefully. "Yes, a dragon scale, like the cards she uses to tell the future. It has that strange writing that we saw in her tent, and a picture of a lot of mountains. I have no idea why she gave it to me. She only told me that she saw the path of my future disappearing soon, and to live as much as I can in the time I have left."

  "Oh, man."

  "So that's what all the secrecy and hurry is about. We're trying to get away from Westland and Felonia's spies as quickly as possible. And in the meantime, there's a few things the king would like to us to do if we can."

  "Uh oh," said Char. "Like what?"

  "There's a dragon running amok and burning Nain settlements somewhere in the fields north of where the Gwadd live," Ven replied. "The king doesn't want us to get in the dragon's way, but he says if we can find out why the dragon is so angry at the Nain, we can trade that information to the Nain for something the Lirin want. And if we get what the Lirin want, we can trade that to them for something the king wants."

  "An' what does the king want?"

  "I'm not sure," Ven said. "But he gave me a message to deliver to the king of the Lirin, a fairly grumpy man known as Alvarran the Intolerant."

  "Great name," Char muttered. "I can tell already he's gonna be fun ta deal with."

  "Probably," Ven said, smiling slightly. "But he's the least of our worries. In addition to getting over the river, away from Felonia's thugs and spies, the message King Vandemere asked me to deliver to the Lirin king makes me pretty nervous all by itself."

  "What was the message?"

  "The king made me memorize it exactly as he said it," Ven said. "It went like this: 'King Vandemere states that if you will send him the greatest treasure in your kingdom, he will swear fealty to you and ever after will call you 'sire'."

  "Man, oh man," Char whispered. "What the heck does that mean?"

  "I don't know," Ven said. "But 'sire' is what someone calls a king when he is that king's subject. It sounds almost as if King Vandemere wants whatever the Lirin king has so badly that he is willing to give up everything, even his throne, to get it. And if the human king gives up his throne to the Lirin king, imagine the problems that will come about. The Nain and the Lirin don't like each other much in Serendair. King Vandemere is high king over many people that call themselves kings and queens on this island. If he gives up and walks away from that job, I bet there'll be all-out war."

  "Wonderful," said Char. "So why do you want to help the king do anything? If you're gonna die soon and all?"

  "I think that's what Madame Sharra meant when she said I should live as much as I can in the time remaining," Ven said. "And I want to help him in any way I can. The thought of undertaking those missions is like a big puzzle to me, and it makes my curiosity burn like crazy. I want to find out all I can about this place we're living in—and if I can help the king in the meantime, all the better.

  "So now I think I've told you about all I can tell you," he finished. "Sorry I didn't have time to do it before we left. But I had the suspicion you would've come anyway."

  "O' course."

  "Then trust me when I say I don't know exactly where we're heading, or what we'll meet, but it should be an interesting adventure. And it's the only chance the king and I know of for us to escape Felonia and be safe. In the meantime, while we're gone the king is going to have someone he trusts spread the rumor in the Gated City that we've left on a ship. If we can stay away long enough, things should die down there and we can go home to the Inn."

  "Hope you're right," Char said.

  "Hey, Polywog, can you come and give your friend a poke?" Ida called from near the back of the wagon. "She's snoring like a drunken sailor, and she's keeping me awake."

  Clemency groaned. "That's funny, Ida," she retorted sleepily. "You keep all of Mouse Lodge awake sawing wood every night. You're a fine one to complain about someone else snoring. And what do you know about drunken sailors, anyway?"

  "More than you think," said Ida. "When they're asleep, it's the best time to take their money off'a them."

  "Sorry I asked," Clemency said. "I'll say an extra prayer for you tonight, Ida." She rolled over and went back to sleep.

  "Everybody just be quiet," Ven said. He stood up and climbed back through the wagon to where Amariel lay and crouched down beside her. He shook her gently, then, realizing the sound she was making was due to the loss of her gills, he positioned himself between her and the other children to mask the noise and settled down to sleep.

  When he woke the sky was dark. The moon was glowing brightly now, casting a silver sheen over the fields, and flooding the wagon with pale light. Char was beside him, shaking him gently.

  "Oh, man," he muttered. "You gotta see this, Ven. Now I know why this Regis can call himself the King of the River."

  When the king asked me to make note in my journals, it was because he wants someday to have a book of all human knowledge, and a book of all the world's magic. He was hoping I'd be the one to find those things out in the world and make notes and pictures of them, so that one day he could use them in those books.

  When I saw what Char was talking about, I decided to start signing every drawing I do in my journals with my initials
from now on.

  Because I have a really bad feeling I'm not going to be the one who finishes them.

  10

  The King of the River

  VEN SAT UP.

  They were at the edge of the river.

  The hazy light of the silver moon made it seem almost as if it were morning. The moonlight glittered off the river, making shining pools that spun in the current, then broke apart like silver coins and floated on.

  Spanning the river from the near bank to the far shore was a tall arched bridge under which many wide gates could be seen. Water flowed freely through the metal bars, swirling around the stanchions as it passed beneath the bridge. Ven caught his breath. The bridge was easily four times the size of the enormous one to the north where he had crossed the river several times before, the bridge where the ravens had been waiting.

  Amazing as the bridge was, it was no match for the marvelous structure atop it.

  Rising above the vast bridge was a palace, or at least something that looked like one. It was a huge building made of many interesting angles and towers, all of them filled with glass windows

  that looked in every direction. The roofs of each section of the building appeared as if they were shingled with pieces of gleaming metal. Those shingles caught the moonlight and made them shine like the stars reflected in the water of the river.

  A passageway that spanned the river crossed west to east through the middle of the building. Ven imagined that the passageway was several times wider than the bridge to the north. At least four wagons could cross the river at the same time side by side. The passageway had a metal grate in front of it, the same as the arches in the water flowing north to south.

  The castle was built on massive stilts that would allow even the tallest of barges to pass beneath it easily. On the far bank Ven could see a horse path like the one on the far bank of the river near the northern bridge. Only this path was much wider, with great planks attached to pulleys that seemed as if they were there for the offloading of huge bales of goods.