Rhapsody, long accustomed to dragons attempting to enchant her with their gaze, averted her eyes while remaining focused forward.
“That’s a badly informed assumption. Surely you can assess the contents of our pockets and our packs, down to the last copper piece. You know that we only have traveling money and a few low-quality gems of tender.”
The dragon chuckled.
“True enough, though you have quite a lovely little emerald ring on your left hand. I assume that’s the symbol of a marriage vow, rather than a signet of state? At least I hope it is; otherwise, your initial description of your queendom hardly mattering was truthful after all.”
The thudding silence that followed echoed in the cavern.
Rhapsody exhaled and counted to ten.
“It is, in fact, my wedding ring,” she said.
The dragon tilted its head, regarding her with interest.
“Hmmm. That, and an extremely cheap locket of low quality gold around your neck, containing—” He seemed to concentrate for a moment, then shook his titanic head. “A copper piece, which at the height of its value was worth three pennies, and is not even regular in its striking; thirteen-sided, how strange.” His head righted itself again. “You truly are a strange queen, Rhapsody, Friend of Elynsynos, whatever else you are. Really, Your Majesty, haven’t you at least a crown of some sort? I like crowns.”
“Not with me. It resides in my realm. And it does not belong to me, but to my people.”
“What a shame. So did you plan to offer me your wedding ring in payment for this boon?”
“I did not,” Rhapsody said sharply. “But if that’s your price, you may have it. The vow it represents does not reside within the ring, but within my heart and that of my husband. The ring is only a symbol.” She inhaled slowly.
“And, while it is of fine quality, with some very pretty sparkly diamond dust surrounding the stone, and very old, it is, as I said, very small, most likely to fit your similarly small hand,” said Witheragh. “It would be insignificant among my collection. So you may keep it. What else do you have to offer in payment?”
“Do you not even wish to hear my request first?”
“No, actually,” said the dragon, and the amusement in his voice dimmed somewhat. “I care nothing for the races of man, as I believe I’ve already stated. You are the gateway of the Unspoken into this world, an unnecessary evil and a complication in keeping the Earth safe from what lies below. That is all I care for, Your Majesty, the guardianship of what really matters. So while this negotiation has been both amusing and pathetic, you are, as you said to me, wasting my time.”
“The boon I am requesting fits precisely into what matters to you,” Rhapsody said coolly. “It may be what prevents a shattering of the Shield. And it is easy enough for you to do, if you accept my request.”
“Speak it quickly then,” said the beast. “And be prepared to leave quickly thereafter.”
“I am asking your aid in guarding my child,” Rhapsody said. “In spite of your belief that I am uninvited at the doorstep of the kingdom of the Nain, I do, in fact, have an invitation.” She thought she could feel Gyllian smile behind her. “It is my intention to ask Faedryth for refuge for my child, whose lineage I have already told you of. That child is sought by one who is in league with at least one F’dor, housed in a body of Living Stone; I need not tell you what their ultimate goal is, I assume.”
Again the cave was filled with devouring silence.
“All I ask is that you increase your vigilance at the doorway of the Deep Kingdom,” Rhapsody continued. “If you guard this front entrance, and make it your second-highest priority to do so, I have been assured none can enter the Nain realm from any other doorway—do you agree with that assessment?”
The dragon’s eyes narrowed, making the vertical pupils expand sideways. It seemed he was thinking for a moment.
“I do,” he said finally.
“Let none pass that you do not know for certain belong here,” Rhapsody said. “None whatsoever. Are you willing to do that for me?”
The draconic head raised up slightly, looking down at her at an angle.
“I suppose, as I have already said, it would depend upon the price you are willing to pay.”
“I have already told you I would give you my wedding ring.”
“And I have already told you that I do not want it.”
“Well, what do you want, then?” Rhapsody demanded impatiently.
A cruel smile spread over the dragon’s face.
“Nothing much,” he said casually. “It’s a simple request you are making, so I will be fair. All I want in payment is, hmmm, let me think, let me think—all right, I have it. Just to show you what a fair and reasonable beast I can be, I will ask only a lock of your hair in payment.”
“Rhapsody,” said Gyllian quietly from behind her, “no.”
Once more the cave fell to silence.
“Why do you want such a thing?” Rhapsody asked.
The dragon rocked his head from side to side, and shrugged, a motion that she had seen Elynsynos make.
“It’s pretty,” he said nonchalantly. “And it’s gold; I like gold.”
Rhapsody exhaled evenly. She was well aware of the threat of such a seemingly mild offer. A lock of hair was the story of a person’s life, and elements of that story could be retrieved and manipulated by Namers; the possibility of what other beings might be able to do with such a rich resource of personal information was staggering.
And terrifying.
Rhapsody did not care.
“When Elynsynos was teaching me the canon of the Wyrmril, she told me a little about you, as she did each of the living dragons of the world,” she said quietly.
“Oh?”
“Yes. She said that you were materialistic, a hoarder of treasure, but not greedy; that you were curmudgeonly and occasionally petty, but not utterly unreasonable, as she described some others. She also said that you were a wyrm of your word and trustworthy; that the Nain had not made a foolish alliance with you, even if they pay dearly for it. So I am ready to believe, based on the word of my dear friend and a dragon of epic status, that you will not make a bargain with me that I need to fear the breaking of. Would you say that was reasonable?”
“I would,” said Witheragh. “But if you doubt my word, what does any assurance from me matter?”
“I do not doubt your word. I am also not fool enough, no matter what you have come to believe, to be unaware of the risk of giving what you ask to a dragon in payment for something that should be incumbent in your stated mission anyway.”
She drew Daystar Clarion.
The dragon reared up, shock on its enormous face. The billowing flames raced down the sword’s blade, reflecting in the beast’s wide eyes.
Rhapsody reached over her own shoulder and seized the root of the fall of shining golden tresses that she wore bound in a black ribbon. Her hair had not been cut, at Ashe’s humorous insistence, for several years, and reached to just below her knees when unbound. She looked at the burning blade in her hand.
Slypka, she said. Extinguish.
The fire that licked the epic blade disappeared, snuffed for a moment.
For the first time since entering the cave, Rhapsody looked directly into the dragon’s wide eyes.
With one smooth, almost vicious slice, she severed the entirety of the fall of golden hair at the base of her neck, just above the ribbon.
She struggled to ignore the gasps behind her, then held the sword at her side again until the flames returned a moment later. She sheathed the blade, then wound the long fall of gleaming hair like a rope and tossed it over the river of fire.
“Here,” she said. “Take it all.”
The dragon’s artificial voice gagged on its words. “Wha—”
“A larger amount should serve to remind you better of your promise.”
Like lightning the beast’s claw shot out and seized the hair, dragging it quickly up and
away from the molten river racing beneath it.
“We have a deal,” Rhapsody said. It was not a question.
Witheragh stared at her. He withdrew his claw and held the hair up before his eyes on a talon as a wide smile wended its way across his face. When he looked back, his eyes were absent the condescending expression that had been there from the moment he came to the river.
“We do,” he said.
“Then let us go in peace,” Rhapsody said. “Remember your promise; guard this doorway, and keep my child safe.”
“I will,” said Witheragh. He coughed awkwardly as Rhapsody bent to retrieve her pack and turned to go. “Do you have any word of Elynsynos?”
Rhapsody stopped and looked at him again.
“I do, sadly,” she said. “I sent my most trusted scout, along with the Invoker of the Filids, to her lair, bringing healers in case she was found injured. There was no sign of her at all. The lair was sealed.”
Witheragh nodded. “As we all feared.”
“My husband stands to hold the land as he can,” Rhapsody said, shouldering her pack. “He is her direct descendant, Llauron’s son. He will do the best he can, along with the Invoker, to keep that part of the Shield intact.” She smiled slightly. “And he will appreciate your help in keeping his child safe, I can assure you, though he will not like the price. Farewell and thank you. Enjoy the hair.”
“Wait!” the dragon called as she walked back to rejoin the other women. “Where is this child I am guarding—this great-grandchild of one of the Five Daughters? Can—can I see him?”
Rhapsody’s smile was broad in return.
“Not today, I think,” she said mischievously. “That is an honor that you don’t deserve yet; I’m sorry. With all due respect, you’ve been obnoxious, and the prospect of mixing chocolate with cheese when stuffing a smoked Lirin—ugh. Revolting. And I never said the child was a boy. When I return from battle, if you have done your part and guarded my child well, perhaps then you will have merited it, and I will introduce you. Goodbye, Witheragh.”
She turned and made her way back to the women, taking her walking stick from an astonished Melisande and signaling to the others to come forward and follow her.
Melisande lagged behind for a moment, rooted to the spot on which she had been standing by the look of utter shock on the face of the beast before it turned and vanished back into the shadowy darkness of the massive cave beyond the Molten River.
Then she ran to her adopted grandmother and took her hand, fairly dancing with glee as they passed by the Molten River and traveled on to the gate of the Nain kingdom.
“Me? I’m your most trusted scout?”
“Well, of course. Come along, now.”
47
Once inside the massive tunnel that led to the gate of the Deep Kingdom, the leadership of the group changed. Rhapsody stepped back into the rear flank and took Meridion and the heavy cloak of mist from Krinsel, whose face remained stoic but whose body seemed happy to be relieved of the burden. Rhapsody took Gyllian aside before they went forward.
“How long to the gate?”
“A league and a half.”
The Lady Cymrian sighed. “I’m not sure Krinsel is up to that long a trek without rest.”
Gyllian nodded. “We can take refuge in one of the side-cavern barracks. If we come upon soldiers, I will address them.”
“Of course; thank you.” Rhapsody reached for Melisande’s hand. “Come, Melly—we are going to rest for a little while, have some supper, and feed Meridion before we go on. Help me put the cloak on, will you? I need to keep him covered at all times.”
The little girl nodded excitedly and helped her adopted grandmother pull her hood up. She kissed the baby’s head, then stepped away, pulling up her own hood, grinning widely.
The women followed Gyllian deeper into the earth, feeling the weight of the mountains rising above them growing heavier as they traveled. The tunnels were dark, utterly lightless except for the occasional glowing spore; Analise’s globe cast wide blue shadows in the dark main corridor, dimly illuminating the evidence of the rough-hewn tunnel making a slow change to smoothly engineered walls, ceilings, and floors with drainage runs and air vents.
Along each side of the main corridor smaller access tunnels yawned; before one of them to the right, Gyllian stopped, listened for a moment, then motioned her companions inside.
The four women and the little girl followed the Nain princess into what appeared to be a bunker of a sort, with a towering ceiling and side walls lined with what looked in the dark to be wide shelving.
“Close your eyes,” Gyllian said. She felt around in the darkness and a moment later a series of torch sconces, much like the ones that lined the hallways of Ylorc, sparked to life, smelling slightly of rancid oil.
When Rhapsody opened her eyes again, she saw that the shelves were actually bunks, made to house fifteen score or more soldiers, stacked on top of one another and connected by a series of ladders. By her estimation of the number of access tunnels, this single main corridor housed somewhere in the vicinity of twelve thousand soldiers.
And it was but one of many such main corridors that she had seen at the opening of the Deep Kingdom.
“Sit, please,” Gyllian said, indicating the lower bunks. She pulled her pack from her shoulders, laid it on the floor of the barracks tunnel, and started to pull the remains of bread and cheese stores and thin water flasks from the depths of it.
“We should eat and get back on the move as soon as we can,” she said quietly, handing bread to Analise and Krinsel, cheese to Melisande, and a waterskin to Rhapsody, who had sat down on a nearby bunk and was preparing to feed Meridion. “These outer troops have the widest sweep in their patrol routes, and will be gone for longer than most of the others, but they will return eventually; it would be best if we were gone when they do.”
The women nodded and set to eating, all except for Rhapsody, who took a quick drink from the waterskin, then put Meridion to the breast and wrapped him carefully in the mist cloak, humming a gentle tune of calming. Melisande came closer and sat down by her side, munching her cheese, and leaned up against her, loosing a deep sigh. The Lady Cymrian put her free arm around the little girl and smiled down at her.
“How are you holding up?”
The young Lady Navarne nodded, her mouth full, and caught a crumb of cheese as it threatened to fall from the corner of her lower lip.
“Mmmm fine.”
“I had no doubt. You are so brave and strong, Melly; your brother will be so proud of you when he hears all the impressive feats you have accomplished. You will be a great woman one day, because you are an amazing young lady.”
“I have an amazing example,” Melisande said, brushing away the last sands of the cheese. “I cannot believe you slashed your hair off like that. I almost cried—but I was so proud of you. The look on that dragon’s face when you threw it across the river—” The little girl stopped, at a loss for words.
Rhapsody chuckled. “It’s only hair, Melly; it will grow back.”
Melisande’s face grew solemn.
“Ashe would have had a fatal fit if he had seen that.”
“Perhaps, but I doubt it. One of the many things Ashe and I have in common is a willingness to do whatever it takes, no matter how much we dislike it, no matter how much it costs us, to take care of you and your brother and your little cousin.”
The Lady Navarne’s face lit up like the sunrise.
“Is Meridion my cousin?”
Rhapsody smiled.
“Well, in a way. Your father and Ashe were as close as brothers, so that pretty much makes you cousins in all ways that matter.”
Melisande sighed dramatically.
“Good. The only other cousin I know that I have is Malcolm Steward, and he’s a pest.”
Rhapsody laughed in spite of herself. “Oh, come now, Melly, he’s just a toddler. All babies are pests when they are his age.”
Melisande shook her hea
d vehemently.
“No, they’re not. I am very certain that I was not a pest when I was his age—”
“You might ask your brother if he agrees with that assessment. I can assure you, all five of mine thought I was one.”
“Well, I may have been annoying, but I didn’t whine and cry for everything I wanted. Malcolm’s so fat that he won’t even go and get a toy if he wants it, but rather sits on the floor and bellyaches and points at it.” Melisande leaned back and began a realistic rendering of the half-mewing, half-whinnying noise of her young second-cousin, to Rhapsody’s barely hidden amusement. “The servants, and even his parents, grab whatever he wants and rush to get it to him just to make him stop his caterwauling. It’s awful.”
Rhapsody’s face grew thoughtful.
“Perhaps he is just missing his father,” she said, more to herself than to Melisande.
“Missing Tristan?” Melisande frowned. “Is he in battle?”
Rhapsody turned to her. “He’s with Ashe, or at least nearby.” She laced up her shirt, wrapped Meridion in the cloak again, stood carefully, and pulled Melisande to her feet. “Now, come along. We have a Nain king to meet.”
* * *
The dark feeder corridor that they rejoined had gone on for almost twice as long as they had traveled already when they began to see a glow in the distance.
Rhapsody turned to Krinsel, who was following at the back of the group.
“Are you up to carrying the baby again?” she asked quietly. “Please don’t fear to decline, Krinsel; I want you to feel secure.” The Bolg midwife nodded, and Rhapsody transferred the mist cloak and the sleeping infant to her, then moved up to behind Gyllian.
“Is that the gate up there?” she asked the Nain princess.
Gyllian smiled slightly. “I fear not; that light is the entrance to the main thoroughfare to the capital city. But the palace is not too far past the gate.” Rhapsody nodded, adjusted her pack, and took Melisande’s hand.
They continued on in silence. The light from the tunnel opening ahead was brightening their way, and every now and then they could see figures passing by, their bodies of thicker mass and broader stature for the most part. As they neared the opening, Gyllian pulled her hood down.