The Thief Queen's Daughter

  “What’s the bad news?” Ven asked.

  “It involves a dragon.”

  “Oh,” Ven said. “Why is that bad?”

  The king blinked. “The dragon seems to be fairly annoyed with the Nain.”

  “Oh,” Ven said. “How annoyed?”

  “Torching the countryside annoyed.”

  “Oh,” Ven said. “Should be interesting.”

  The king laughed. “I will need a day or two to put things together,” he said. “Talk to your friends, but only inside the inn. Get your Singer friend to help you keep the discussion off the wind. I will send for you when I’m ready. In the meantime, rest up and get some good food into you. You deserve it, after your time in the Market.”

  “Actually, Your Majesty, ever since meeting the Rat King, I haven’t really been very hungry,” Ven said. “I’m beginning to realize how lucky we are to have all that we do have.”

  “Then that may explain the second whisker,” the king said.

  * * *

  My hand went immediately to my chin. And he was right.

  There, just at the place where my neck meets the underside of my jaw, I could feel another little hair, smaller than the first one. But it was a sure sign that my beard was coming in.

  I couldn’t have been happier. Among the Nain, a man’s beard is the story of his life.

  Looks like I might have an interesting story after all.

  * * *

  25

  The End—and the Beginning Again

  THAT EVENING, VEN WENT TO TOWN WITH NICHOLAS FOR HIS last rounds. While Nick was busy collecting the messages, Ven went north, out to the abandoned pier, and sat quietly on the edge, waiting for a glimpse of multicolored scales or a red pearl cap.

  While he waited the sun began to set. Great streams of light were breaking through the clouds, like golden ropes. The thinnest clouds had formed what looked like a glowing road into the west, in colors of pink and yellow and white, leading to a burning orange sun at the horizon.

  When finally there was nothing more than a sliver of the sun left, Amariel’s head popped out of the water just off the pier.

  “Well, I see you’ve learned not to shout,” the merrow said, flipping her tail and splashing Ven with droplets of salty foam. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to tell you about the Gated City,” Ven said, sitting cross-legged on the pier. “You always say I owe you stories in return for all the ones you told me those nights I was floating on the wreckage. I don’t have that many to tell, but as I learn some, I thought I’d start paying you back.”

  The merrow considered, then nodded.

  “All right,” she said. “Tell away.”

  So Ven began with their entry into the Outer Market, trying to put each part of the story into terms that a sea-dweller would understand. He noticed as he went on that more and more heads seemed to appear, bobbing in the water some distance away from shore. They never quite crested the surface, but Ven was fairly certain they were listening as well.

  When his story ended, the heads disappeared.

  The merrow floated backward, allowing her beautiful tail to flip out of the water.

  “Well, it seems there really is a lot to see in the Dry World,” she said casually, drawing patterns in the gentle waves as they crested under the pier. “I guess that explains, at least a little, why you always have more important things to do than come to explore the depths with me.”

  “Nothing I have to do is more important to me,” Ven said quickly. “It’s usually more important to someone else, someone who gets to tell me what to do. But I really do want to come with you someday.”

  “Hmmm,” said Amariel. “I’ll believe that when it happens.” She started to drift away. “But next time you get sent on one of these great adventures, let me know. Maybe I will be in the mood that day to come with you and see what all the fuss is about.”

  Ven sat up like a bolt of lightning had hit him.

  “Are you serious?” he asked excitedly. “Do you mean it? You would give me your cap and grow legs? And come with me?”

  The merrow smiled.

  “Perhaps,” she said, preparing to dive. “Perhaps not. We’ll see when the time comes.”

  “Yes,” Ven called as she disappeared below the waves. “We’ll see—I’ll see you tomorrow! Or the next day.”

  He ran all the way back to the inn, astonishing Nicholas by beating him there.

  26

  One Last Thing That Needed to Be Said

  * * *

  So as soon as I got everything packed for my journey I went to dinner. The inn was warm and full of laughter, with McLean’s bright music making the room even more cheerful.

  It felt good to be home.

  For all that she had put us immediately to work, Mrs. Snodgrass fussed over us the whole night, making certain we had seconds at dinner and extra helpings of Felitza’s scrumptious desserts. Felitza even told Char she was glad he was back, and saved him an apple fritter, his favorite. He’s been acting giddy ever since. If he doesn’t quiet down soon, I’m going to smother him with my pillow or, better yet, let the Spice Folk into our room while he is sleeping. They like to torture him even more than they like to torture me.

  After this crazy adventure in the Gated City I have really come to understand why the king felt the need to fire me in front of his court. I know he was trying to protect me. Just because I can’t be the Royal Reporter in the eyes of the world doesn’t mean I can’t be the king’s eyes as he asked me to. I will take my lessons from what the king did himself when he was the equivalent of my age, and go about my business, a simple, unimportant kid and his friends who mean nothing to anyone in this place.

  That way I may be able to see the hidden magic of the world more clearly, without anyone seeing me doing it.

  One thing I learned from all this is that each person has the chance to be what life decides for him, or to make life what he decides it will be. Ida actually taught me this, though I definitely can’t tell her that now. She could have been the Thief Queen’s daughter with the beautiful name. Instead she chose to be Ida No, royal pain and general nuisance, all alone in the world except for her mates at the Crossroads Inn, a place for kids who have nowhere else to go.

  I’m glad she made the choice she did.

  One day, if she lets me, I will tell her so.

  At dinner I asked my friends if they wanted to come overland with me, past the Great River, on another uncertain quest that involves discovering why a dragon is destroying the countryside. I expected to get stares at best, and pelted with food at worst. Instead, I got five excited companions who can’t wait to go exploring with me. Even Ida said she’d come if she wasn’t doing something better.

  She then gave me a long list of what would qualify as “better,” including having the mumps, hitting herself in the face with a hammer, and privy-cleaning duty.

  I bet she comes anyway.

  And as soon the king lets me know the supplies are ready, I will go see if Amariel wants to come, too.

  But tonight, I have a letter to write.

  * * *

  * * *

  Dear Mother Mum,

  It was wonderful to receive your letter. I want to assure you that I am following everything you have taught me in life as much as I possibly can. I am striving to always be polite, well-mannered, and clean, though in truth that last one does not always happen. But I do try. I will keep trying to behave in a way that would make you proud, even though you are not here to see it.

  All is well with me. I am healthy and hope that you and everyone else back home in Vaarn are, too. I will be going on a journey soon that may allow me to meet actual Nain who live as Nain do. I will write and tell you all about it.

  I have some chores to finish before I can go to bed, but I just want to say that I am very grateful for all the time, attention, and guidance you have given me all my life. I benefit from the things you have taught me every day.

  The
y have made me who I am.

  Along with my gratitude, and greetings to Father and my siblings, I send you

  All my love,

  Ven

  P.S.—My beard has finally begun to grow in. I think you should be the first member of the family to know that.

  P.P.S.—If you haven’t put my teacup away yet, please do. I won’t be home for a while. But I will come home one day, and when I do, I promise that night I will be on time for tea.

  * * *

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  In addition to the luminaries whom I thanked in the first volume, and who still deserve thanks but not actual space in this book, I would like to acknowledge the following helpful people for their contributions to our ongoing archaeological dig:

  First and foremost, Dr. Alexander Vandersnoot, Vaarn expedition leader, who has handled every aspect of the dig as well as updating our blog at www.venbooks.com;

  Edward “Dip Dip” Hillenbrand, our expedition’s litter bearer, for transporting all our equipment (and, of course, me);

  The Flower Sisters, Ella Rose Violet Daisy Iris MacDoodle, and Liliana-Susana-Banana-Chochita-Burrita Valentine, Gwadd caterers extraordinaire, who have kept our archaeological dig team fed and happy through months of dirty, backbreaking work (see their ad in this month’s edition of The Flower Gourmet);

  Madame Hildegarde Frint, Mistress of Manners and Decorum, for keeping a civil and serene atmosphere among traditionally coarse field-workers. I would especially like to thank her for ransoming me back from the chief of the Womba Looma tribe, and hereby promise to never again spit mango juice at anyone during a sacred Tongue-Waggling ceremony. (It really was an accident, Hildy.)

  Sir Austen Frappier, famed socialite, for adding cuteness and beauty to an otherwise bleak seaside setting;

  Sergeant-Major Blanche McGivney, the Iron Goddess of Mercy, for her vise-like grip on discipline in the ranks and maintaining the dormitories;

  “Amazon” Julien Thuan, zookeeper and animal handler of the Royal Menagerie of Sorbold, for his assistance with research regarding prehistoric dogs;

  And a grudging acknowledgment of the extremely shoddy work of Hoy T. Toity and Gobble D. Gooke, our interpreters, who really need to practice their Kith diphthongs (lawsuit pending—thanks a lot).

  —EH

  Elizabeth Haydon is now working

  to restore the third volume of

  The Lost Journals of Ven Polypheme,

  The Dragon’s Lair.

  Turn the page for a sneak peek for your eyes only.

  VEN WAS DREAMING OF FIRE PIRATES CHASING HIM THROUGH THE hold of a dark ship when he felt his shoulder being shaken.

  He opened his eyes. He could see nothing but inky blackness all around him.

  The moon had set, taking any light with it. The stars that had been so bright the evening before had disappeared behind racing clouds. All he could feel was the breath of the wind, rustling the grass around his head.

  It smelled like the burnt porridge in the bottom of Char’s cooking pot.

  “Get up,” Tuck said quietly. “It’s time to go.”

  Ven sat straight up and looked around. He could see the shapes of his friends beginning to move as they, too, shook off sleep. He knew they could see even less than he could, except possibly for Saeli.

  “What’s burning?” he asked nervously.

  Tuck’s voice came from behind where he sat. Ven had not seen him move.

  “Fields,” the Lirin forester said. “The grasslands to the north of here, I’d wager.”

  “Is it the dragon?”

  Tuck came around in front of him and crouched down. “Maybe. If it is, this fire has caught and spread from a spark. But this itself is not from the beast. Can’t miss the smell of dragon’s breath.”

  “Wh-why?” Char stammered from the darkness next to Ven. “What does it smell like?”

  The forester was helping Clemency to her feet. He turned and looked at Char for a moment, thinking.

  “There’s a dirt smell to it, like wet firecoals,” he said at last. “But sharper, like acid or pitch had been poured into the smoke. Once you’ve smelled it, you never forget it. It haunts your dreams.”

  “Great,” Ven muttered. “My dreams aren’t haunted enough.”

  “Let’s move out,” Tuck said, hoisting his enormous pack onto his shoulder. “The night-hunting ravens sleep when the moon goes down. Those that hunt by day will be up with the sun. We have to travel fast.”

  Ven nodded and slung his own pack onto his back, as did the others. They followed Tuck’s dark outline over the fields, stepping through the highgrass that billowed like waves on the sea.

  After what seemed like an eternity of wading through endless scrub, they came to the thicket where their horses stood, the wagon hidden among the trees. Tuck tossed his pack into the back of the wagon and helped the children in, then climbed up onto the board and took the reins.

  “Go back to sleep,” he said over his shoulder.

  “Yeah, that’s gonna happen,” Char said under his breath.

  “May as well rest while you can,” Tuck replied. Char jumped. He had forgotten how sensitive the forester’s ears were. “Not a good idea to deal with a dragon when you’re tired.”

  “I, for one, don’t think it will be hard to fall asleep at all,” said Clem, shoving aside a sack of cornmeal and moving away from the water barrel, which had leaked a little and dampened the floor of the wagon. “I feel like I could sleep for days.”

  Not me, Ven thought. His scalp was on fire, his fingers tingling. It was all he could do to keep from peering over the edge of the wagon, but Tuck’s warning was still ringing in his ears, drowning out his curiosity for the moment. Stay down, children. It’s best that anything passing by thinks you are cargo, nothing more.

  Surrounded by blackness, his mind was racing. Ven tried to think of home, of his family, of boring lessons in school, anything to get his thoughts to settle down and allow him to fall asleep again. Hard as he tried, nothing would stick in his brain except the thought that at any moment they might be face to face with an ancient beast able to grant them a wish or swallow them up without having to chew. Despite the danger, the possibility that they might actually be seeing something that most people had only heard about in tales was making his heart pound.

  Even more thrilling was the knowledge that, should they avoid the dragon altogether, he might be meeting Nain for the first time, in the mountains, and maybe he would see how his own race really lived. That alone was enough to keep him from being able to sleep.

  He thought of the letter he would write to his family, telling them that after four generations, a Polypheme had finally returned to the mountains and had met downworld Nain. While these Nain were not the ones from whom his family had descended, it would still be fascinating to see how they lived and to speak to them in the language Ven had only ever used with his family and a few of the Nain that worked in his father’s factory in Vaarn. I wonder if they will be able to understand me, he thought. No Nain I’ve ever talked to has ever been inside a mountain, either.

  His thoughts raced even more wildly in his head. Maybe I can finally make up for disgracing the family by making a good impression on those of our own race. With that thought came sudden panic. What if the language I’ve learned has changed over the years? What if what I say means something totally different in their tongue? I could be insulting them and not even know it. With my luck, I will start a war between Nain cultures. His mind was churning along with these crazy thoughts, but Ven was unable to stop them.

  Inside his shirt pocket, the thin sleeve of Black Ivory vibrated slightly. Ven put his hand on top of it and was surprised that he could feel warmth, even through the fabric. There was a pleasant buzz on his skin, even through the smooth stone. Without thinking, he slid the tip of the dragon scale out of the protective sleeve and ran his finger over the edge.

  * * *

  The rim of the scale was so finely tattered that it felt a
s soft as flax, but I knew that if I pressed too hard it would slice through my skin to the bone. There was a hum that tickled my fingertip, a feeling of old magic that shot through me, all the way to the roots of my hair, to my toenails as well. Even the two whiskers on my chin vibrated.

  In that magical buzz there was a sense of joy. That’s really the only word I can think of to describe it. Just touching something so ancient, so magical, made me feel good all over.

  Even in the scary darkness, even running from those who sought us by night, and those that would return with the day’s light, I was excited.

  At least I was until I was grabbed by the throat.

  * * *

  All of the breath choked out of Ven. His head spun woozily and he felt sick as he was hauled out of the wagon and up onto the board behind the horses.

  Tuck’s voice spoke quietly in his ear, its tone deadly.

  “Put that bloody thing away, Ven. Do you want the dragon to find us?”

  “N-no,” Ven whispered.

  Tuck’s grip on his collar tightened. “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?”

  “Sorry,” Ven said. He pushed the scale back into its envelope, and the envelope back into his pocket. The vibration vanished, taking with it the joy that had been coursing through him a moment before.

  Tuck shook his head in disgust and released his grip on Ven, who slid off the board and clattered back into the wagon. The eyes of the other children were wide, staring at him in the darkness. Ven’s face flushed hot in embarrassment, so he turned around and settled back down between two sacks of carrots, pretending to sleep.