Dragon Mage

"You carried the bolt of cloth to the village."

  Shilo realized the trip to the village was a test. If she could carry the fabric to the village, she could carry a dragon egg.

  "But there are four eggs." Shilo was talking to herself now, and had leaned away from Nidintulugal. "Four trips from somewhere under Babylon. I'd have to get a wagon to get them out of the city. They have wagons, don't they?" She remembered seeing one on the street. "Does the village down the hill have a wagon?" She could take that into Babylon. "Four trips."

  "You will be risking your life, Child of Sigurd. And you will need help." The dragon looked at Nidintulugal.

  A profound silence settled in the cave.

  Deep in the hill, no sounds from outside could be heard. There was just the rhythmic breath of the dragon, echoing against the walls, its force stirring Shilo's hair like a strong breeze.

  "I will aid Shilo. It is the will of Shamash that—"

  "Accepted, priest. But your help alone will not be enough," Ulbanu interjected. "Four eggs, four people, four hearts and minds, four wills, four with courage."

  Four, Shilo thought, like the four dragons pictured on the lid of the puzzle box.

  "More priests of Shamash?" Shilo looked to Nidintulugal.

  "Perhaps." He rubbed his chin and shifted forward on the balls of his feet. "They must be made to understand about dragons and the threat of demons. Priests would believe me."

  Unless they think you're mad, Shilo thought. Then they'll try to lock you up.

  "Priests, they would stay silent on this matter if I asked them."

  "I guess it's settled then," Shilo said. "This is all pretty dangerous, Mission Impossible skullduggery, and no Tom Cruise in sight. But if I want to get home, I'll give it a shot. We'll sneak into the city and—"

  "No." Ulbanu had closed her eyes. "Priests of Shamash are not the answer. They believe in their god, but not in magic. They will think you a demon, Shilo, or touched by one. There is too much risk in approaching them. Besides, the temple is watched."

  "I did not believe in magic," Nidintulugal whispered. Louder: "I will convince them, great dragon. I will find a way to reach the priests and—-"

  "There is another way." The dragon's lips quivered, sending ripples in the pool of saliva beneath her jaw. The image of a devastated land shattered, the chittering of demons receded, and the floor's stony appearance returned. "I sense two others who will aid you, Shilo, priest. I call them even now, and they will come. You will soon find them in the courtyard."

  "In Babylon?" Shilo didn't like the sound of this.

  "Where you appeared in the city," Ulbanu continued. "They believe in magic and dragons, and if you are convincing they will follow your instructions."

  "Wh-who? "

  The dragon didn't answer this, as she started humming, a dissonant tune that Shilo instinctively knew was some sort of spell. "Ulbanu, you said you'd teach me how to use my magic, you said—"

  The humming continued for several moments more, growing louder and causing the cavern to shake.

  Nidintulugal looked on wide-eyed, and Shilo wondered just how much of all of this he really believed. Spiderweb-fine cracks appeared in the cavern floor, and Shilo worried that the hill would come down on top of them. But then the humming stopped and the cavern settled. Ulbanu opened her eyes.

  "You gained things in the village, Shilo. Bring them."

  Shilo decided against repeating the question, and retreated to the other chamber and brought in the net bag. She started to pull out the clothes, looking for a dry spot on the cavern floor to place them.

  "No, the nuts."

  "Nuts?" How did the dragon know what shed traded for? She shook her head; the dragon seemed to know a lot about a lot of things. She reached for the bag of nuts.

  "Sit."

  Shilo likened herself to a dog in obedience school, but complied.

  "The nuts ..."

  Shilo put them in her hands, turning them over, feeling the smoothness of some of the shells, and the wrinkled roughness of others. "I need a better disguise than just the clothes, don't I, Ulbanu?"

  "Yes." The dragon seemed pleased that Shilo comprehended the point of this lesson.

  "But how? What's nuts got to do with—" Sherwood Forest! Shilo thought. She'd read a story about Robin Hood and his Merry Men, and how one of them needed a disguise and so made a dye from walnut shells. "I need to have darker skin, don't I?"

  "As will your new companions," the dragon said.

  "How can I—" Shilo juggled the nuts so she could take off all of her rings. Then she cupped the nuts close to her, stared at them, and concentrated. Like ice cubes, they melted in her hands and turned into a paste that she rubbed on her arms and face and legs and feet. There was just enough to cover her entirely, and when she was done she looked into one of the pools of saliva, using it as a mirror. "Wow. It worked."

  "Your magic, Shilo, is to manipulate things. You altered the nuts because you willed it. Use your newfound skill well."

  "Wow," she said again. She replaced her rings, careful not to spread the nut dye on them.

  Nidintulugal gaped at her, his gaze alternating from her hands to her face, his lips moving, but no sound coming out.

  "But my hair. I don't think nut shells will work on that."

  Nidintulugal shook his head to clear his senses and retrieved Shilo's net bag. He fumbled with it for a few moments, then cinched the tie cord and placed it on Shilo's head like an odd-looking hat. It was similar to some of the head coverings she'd seen women in Babylon wear.

  "Your companions come, Shilo, priest. Though the journey will take most of a day, it would be best that you be in the courtyard to meet them. Pity if they would draw the attention of Babylon's guards."

  Shilo selected the brown robe and put it on. No time for that bath, she glumly decided.

  Wouldn't want one now anyway; it would only wash off her new skin. For a brief moment she thought about the tennis shoes, much more comfortable than these sandals. She grabbed up her old robe, and the other one she'd traded for in the village. She figured she might need them for the two others the dragon had summoned.

  "I don't suppose my magic will let me fly or run really fast to whisk us back to Babylon?"

  Ulbanu gave a disconcerted sigh. "Your magic, Shilo—"

  "—allows me to manipulate materials. I know." She offered the dragon a weak smile.

  "Wish me luck, huh? "

  "I wish you well," the dragon returned.

  IT WAS STILL DARK WHEN THEY REACHED THE VILLAGE, THOUGH

  the sky was lightening ever so faintly in the east.

  "I will need something different to wear," Nidintulugal said. "A ... disguise ... as you name it. And you will need more nuts for the people we are to meet in the courtyard."

  On the trip down he'd asked her how she would notice the two who would help them. Shilo merely raised her eyebrows and gave him a "how do you think" look.

  "They will look out of place," Nidintulugal said to himself.

  "Like a fish pedaling a bicycle."

  It was his turn to raise his eyebrows.

  Shilo had expected him to find the village elder or mayor, the old gentleman who'd tended to her feet. Instead, he crept around to the eastern edge of the village, plucked a man's robe off a line, reached in through a few windows to gather bowls of nuts, and then scuttled to what passed for a barn. Every few minutes he held his finger to his lip to make sure Shilo stayed quiet. Like I'm going to make a racket now, she thought.

  Inside the barn he pointed to a four-wheeled wagon and a large, two-wheeled cart. He selected the latter, which looked sturdier and less worn, and pulled it outside, cringing when the wheels creaked as they moved. He did his best to silently hitch it to an ox, and to put the small bowls of nuts in it. The village had one ox and a big horse. Shilo had gestured to the horse, but he shook his head and led the ox through a pair of buildings and down the widest village street. A few people were stirring; hushed conversatio
ns and the clanking of pots drifted out of windows. Shilo took off a pair of her silver earrings and placed them on the windowsill of one of the homes where he'd appropriated the nuts. She breathed a sigh of relief that no one had stopped them.

  He turned the ox north and started in that direction away from the village. Shilo tugged on his belt.

  "What do you think you're doing?"

  Nidintulugal gestured with his head toward the village. "Gehud watches us out his front door. And Nurthar saw us out his window. Let them think we go to the north.'

  Shilo fell in beside him, deciding not to stay with this ruse long. She didn't have to. As soon as they'd passed out of sight of the village, by following a curve in the road, Nidintulugal put on the borrowed robe, and took the ox off the road and started southwest.

  The land sloped down, and so they would not be spotted by any villagers—unless they came out onto the road and purposely looked in this direction. A mile later, they made their way through tall grass, the stalks so high it hid them at times.

  "Now you have me confused, Nidin." Shilo reached over and scratched at the ox's neck.

  She was walking on the opposite side of the ox now, talking across it to Nidintulugal.

  "You stole that robe and this cart, this ox, bowls of nuts. Stole them." She had put her two spare robes in the cart, glad to have her hands free.

  "Borrowed them, Shilo."

  "Not very priestly, whatever you want to call it. And there's no borrowing—the nuts."

  Her brow furrowed, and she opened her mouth to press the matter.

  "I will return these things, Shilo, if I am able. And pay them for the nuts."

  "Able?"

  "If demons become involved, I ... we . . . may not live through this. But if we do, I will return these things and compensate the people for their use." Nidintulugal's face was lined with worry. "I could not simply ask to use these things, though my friends in that place would have allowed it. They would have wanted to know what I needed these things for."

  "And a priest of Shamash does not lie."

  "I would have told them, yes. Though I would not have mentioned the dragon."

  "Just dragon eggs."

  "Eggs. Just eggs."

  Shilo smiled at that. While the priest wouldn't lie, he wouldn't necessarily tell the complete truth. "You would make a good politician in my time, Nidin."

  "I do not understand the word. Politician."

  "That's all right. I don't understand politicians either."

  The banter ended, Nidintulugal tugged the ox into a reasonably fast pace. Shilo thought the horse would have been the better option, but as she watched the animal's muscles ripple in the growing light, she realized the ox was stronger, maybe younger, and should have little trouble pulling a cart filled with four heavy dragon eggs. They could have traveled faster without the ox and cart, but then they would have to deal with acquiring something similar in Babylon. Perhaps Ni-dintulugal didn't have anyone to borrow these things from in the city, Shilo thought.

  They traveled through what was left of the night, staying off the road and not seeing the squad of guards that marched toward the village, led by the Hand of the Hand.

  17 Ibingbal's Disruption

  EKURZAKIR STOOD BEFORE THE HAND OF NEBUCHADNEZZAR, face glowing with pride. He'd presented the items on the shopping list, which made Arshaka smile. Ekurzakir had not seen Arshaka smile in many days, and so he decided to reveal the rest of his information, rather than save it—to make his employer supremely pleased.

  "There are people in this city, Hand of Nebuchadnezzar, who deal in rumors and secrets."

  Arshaka nodded as he sniffed the special ink. "And they gave some of their secrets to you." It was not a question.

  "Yes, Hand."

  Arshaka looked up and waited. Fie did not press Ekurzakir. His expression admitted that Ekurzakir had something promising to disclose and would relish the telling.

  "The girl traveled to a village north of here, a place of farmers and shepherds."

  "Ibinghalr"

  "Yes. I do not know if she is still there, but I have assembled a dozen guards to accompany me. If she is hiding in Ibinghal, we will take her and bring her back to the city. If she is not there, we will discover where she is."

  Arshaka was obviously pleased and disturbed by the news.

  "While I want this girl, Ekurzakir, I wanted as few as possible involved in her capture. One dozen guards ... I would have chosen three or four of my closest men. Still, my men have come up empty-handed so far." King Nebuchadnezzar would be away for weeks, and had left Babylon in Arshaka's more than capable hands. On his return, the king might learn nothing of the girl, and certainly nothing of Arshaka's plan. "Until it is too late."

  "Your pardon, Hand of Nebuchadnezzar?"

  "Nothing, Ekurzakir. You brighten my day with this information."

  Ekurzakir did not try to hide his smile.

  "I was going to keep this information to myself for a time," he admitted. "I wished to come by the girl and bring her here to surprise you."

  "Surprises are not always good." Arshaka's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. "Better that you told me. Better that you keep no secrets, Ekurzakir."

  "Yes, Hand of Nebuchadnezzar. By your will, I go to lead the men to the village of Ibinghal."

  "You have my leave," Arshaka said. He reached out and clamped his hand on Ekurzakir's shoulder, applying a little pressure, which could be taken either as friendship or a warning. Arshaka meant it as both. "Hurry, and be successful."

  Ekurzakir rushed from Arshaka's apartments, wishing he'd not told the Hand of the girl's possible whereabouts. If for some reason he was not successful, things would not go well for him.

  "Then I simply must be successful," he said to himself, racing through the streets and down the Processional Way, where the dozen were gathered. He had a horse waiting for him, and was quickly on it and through the tunnel that led out of Babylon. He prayed to Ishtar, Marduk, and Shamash as he went. "Please let me succeed. My prosperity is tied to the Hand of Nebuchadnezzar."

  He pushed the guards to a brutal march, his mind churning with the possibilities of his reward. He recalled the crone Sarazel's words of his riches and power to come, and he drew that notion into his heart. He'd assembled the men shortly after he left her den, ordering supplies to last them three days, which should be more than enough. If the men needed more, they would trade with the village or with herders; he had more gold links in his pocket. But they should not need more. They would reach the village by the following morning, allowing only for a brief stop to rest his horse and for the guards to nap.

  This endeavor would have been easier had they waited for the morning. The men would have been well rested. To leave in the late afternoon drew the attention of people in the courtyard.

  They marched without speaking, the only sound that of their sandals scuffing on the road and the measured clop of the horse's hooves. He didn't stop until deep in the evening, and then the noise was the buzz of insects and his men's snores. Ekurzakir could not sleep.

  They resumed the march earlier than he'd planned, but he noted that his horse was still in reasonable condition, and he desperately wanted to gain the girl.

  Sarazel's words still hung strong in his mind.

  Ekurzakir was so intent on the journey and reaching Ibinghal as soon as possible that he did not look to the field to the west of the road. Had he done so, or had the sky been a little lighter, he would have noticed an ox pulling a cart, and a young couple setting an equally determined pace. He would have questioned them, as he would have considered it suspicious that they did not use the road. And he might have discovered his prize right there.

  But Ekurzakir did not see them, his eyes fixed on Ibinghal.

  The guards came into the village as everyone was stirring. Ekurzakir was quick to find Ibinghal's spokesman, the elderly man named Hre-Threndal.

  "Honored one of Ibingbhal ..." Ekurzakir began. His tone was silky, c
opying the manner he'd heard the Hand of Nebuchadnezzar use when trying to exact information or favors. "It is with sadness that I disrupt your fine community. But as the sun rises, so arises the need for your cooperation."

  Hre-Threndal stood straighter. Guards from Babylon had visited Ibinghal before, when bringing goods to trade for crops or sheep or when wanting water from the well during a long march. But this was something different; the old man could tell it from Ekurzakir's bearing.

  "How can we of Ibinghal assist the men of King Nebuchadnezzar?" Hre-Threndal tried to sound formal.

  As when Shilo had appeared in the streets, all the villagers had turned out of their homes to be part of the assembly. Whispers filled the air.

  "We humble people are loyal to the great king of the great city." Hre-Threndal added a slight bow, which a few children in the throng mimicked.

  Ekurzakir slid from his horse and passed the reins to a broad-shouldered young man. "Water for her, please, and brush her if you will." The horse's nostrils and lips were flecked with foam. The man obligingly tugged her toward the barn and paid attention to her front leg, which she favored.

  Standing on his toes, Ekurzakir scanned the crowd. Ibinghal was a good-sized village, with nearly two hundred residents. He looked for the pale-skinned girl the Hand of Nebuchadnezzar had carefully described.

  "You harbor a foreigner," Ekurzakir said. "She is a young woman, about the age of her." He pointed to one of the taller girls toward the front of the crowd. She giggled and hid her face in her hands. "But she has pale skin."

  "And spots on her face." This came from the woman in the green robe. She shifted her gaze from Ekurzakir to the red snake ring on her index finger.

  "Yes, fetch her for me." He added, "Please," and smiled.

  No one in the assembly moved, and none spoke.

  Ekurzakir cleared his throat and fixed a stern gaze on the woman. "We mean her no harm, but she must be brought back to Babylon. She stole from one of King Nebuchadnezzar's most trusted men, and she must be made to answer for that."

  Still nothing from the villagers.

  "I said she will not come to harm, will likely be ordered to clean stables and floors, simply made an example of." Ekurzakir could tell there were doubters in the assembly, and he immediately wished he'd brought half this number of men. Why would a dozen armed and armored guards be required to capture one young woman? Arshaka had been correct; fewer men would have been better.