A Storm in the Desert: Dragonlinked Chronicles Voume 3 (13 page)

Keep your good heart. It is part of the best of you.

He turned back to the fading sunset. “I thought I was done.” The last ray of sunlight faded to darkness. “With the formation of the guild and the progress on the Guildhall, I thought that I had time to relax and just be a dragonlinked. Train, patrol, fight nahual, and have time to take glorious naps.” He looked at Polandra. “Not as big a dream as yours, perhaps, but it was nice to think that we were done with threats to us.”

That is a good dream.
Ikan rumbled from the other side of Polandra.
Naps are good.

She chuckled, then turned to Aeron. “I don’t think anyone is ever done with threats to their well-being. There are times of calm,” she nodded, “but a storm will always come, eventually.” She walked to Ikan. “We should go now, while searching eyes adjust to darkness.”

Some time later, in the middle of nowhere, Ikan angled down to land. A large and deep ravine had been their route the last mile or so. Ikan had flown within it, below ground level. Anaya set down next to him and settled her wings on her back.

Aeron could see nothing of the place Polandra and Renata had told them of. “Where is it?”

“Bataan-Mok?”

Aeron nodded.

“A few miles farther west.” She dismounted. “We can’t see it because of the walls of this arroyo.”

“Why are we stopping here?”

“Ikan can speak with Isandath from here.” She turned to Anaya. “No speaking in group, please. Though we are not too close, patrols do go out farther than this. It would not do for someone to overhear.”

Anaya rumbled an acknowledgment and Aeron hopped to the ground.

“Alright, Ikan,” Polandra placed her hand on the dragon’s neck.

Above, the sky was an ocean of stars, twinkling. With the clear weather, they gave enough light that Aeron could see around the place well enough. It was like any dry ravine he’d ever seen. Rocks, course sand and pebbles in patterns that spoke of flowing water, and not much else. It was getting surprisingly cool, too, at least for what he thought a desert should be like.

Aeron leaned back against Anaya and waited. When her warmth began to penetrate the riding jacket, it felt good.

Polandra closed her eyes and rested her cheek on Ikan. “Isandath’s disappointed that someone tried to kill Anaya and shocked that it was Nesch Takatin who ordered it.”

Not being able to talk to the man himself made Aeron feel helpless. “Is there any way we can meet with him? I don’t like having to go through a dragon intermediary, no offense to you, Ikan.”

Ikan rumbled and Polandra smiled, patting his neck.

A moment later, she said, “Isandath will meet us in an hour at a tavern in Pashi. It’s the largest village and the closest one to Bataan-Mok. He sometimes takes dinner there, so it will not seem out of the ordinary.”

“They don’t have a Dining Hall in Bataan-Mok?”

“Yes, but he doesn’t enjoy taking meals in the cafeteria. I think Renata used to bring meals to his room and dine there with him, but he didn’t want curious minds to link him with people who eventually leave, so he and I did not continue that tradition. As there aren’t many in the Order that he likes well enough to dine with, he occasionally eats in the village.”

Aeron grunted. What was it like to not have any friends to eat with? He himself liked food too much to pass up meals entirely. He’d just find a place at a table and eat.

“We’ll leave our dragons here. Pashi is not far. We’ll walk.” After rummaging around in her saddlebags, Polandra removed two flowing robes. “Here, put this on over your gear.”

“What are these?” He took the loose garment and watched as she put hers on.

“Robes that many here wear. It should keep our riding gear hidden and let us blend in, a bit.” She twisted her lips. “Though, your skin is a little pale. Still, in the dim light of the tavern, we should be fine.”

“Good thing you thought to bring two of them.” Aeron slipped it over his head.

“Yeah, I got that one from Renata. I figured we might need them.”

“This is Renata’s? I’m wearing a girl’s robe?”

“There’s no such thing as girl’s or boy’s. They’re the same for everyone.”

Aeron grunted and adjusted the robe so it sat his shoulders properly.

“Let’s go. I want to get there before Isandath does, so we all don’t arrive at the same time.”

Aeron followed her down the ravine.

They’d been sitting in a booth in a darkened corner of the tavern for at least a quarter hour. Aeron turned his head and glanced about the place again. They should have sat on the other side of the booth, facing the room. Keeping an eye on everything would have been easier.

Something hit him on the shin, hard. “Ow!” He tried to keep his outburst quiet.

“Shut up. And stop looking around at everyone. You look suspicious.”

“You kicked me?”

“I will again if you don’t relax. We don’t want to stand out. Just sit there. Drink your iced cider. Isandath will be here soon.”

He had half a mind to kick her back, but she was right. They were in enemy territory. He needed to be more careful. He took a casual glance to the side.

The tavern didn’t seem to have a lot of people in it, though the muted light made it difficult to see how many actually sat in the booths along the walls. A few tables in the central area of the room were occupied, but each had only one or two people. The dinner crowd must have already come and gone, or had yet to arrive. Aeron wondered what time was dinner time in these lands. At Caer Baronel, dinner was an hour or so before sunset, depending on the time of year. And speaking of dinner, the pleasant aromas wafting through the place were making him hungry. His stomach grumbled. The unknown spices smelled remarkably good.

Polandra kicked his foot.

“What now?” he whispered, upset. “I already stopped looking about like a tourist.”

Someone slid into their booth, on the other side.

Aeron stared at the man facing them. He had short, black hair, graying at the temples, but even in the dim light, his eyes sparkled when he smiled.

“Polandra, it is incredibly good to see you again. How are you and Renata doing?”

“It is so good to see you, too.” Polandra’s voice had changed. Where before she’d spoken in quick, clipped bursts, now she sounded more normal, and you could hear how happy she was just by her tone. “I am doing well, as is Ikan. Renata and Xochi are also doing well.” She glanced at Aeron. “We have been treated very nicely.”

“Excellent. I am glad that you four are doing well.” He turned his gaze on Aeron. “And who might this northerner be?”

How did he know—

“This is Aeron.” She leaned closer to the man and whispered, “The dragon boy.”

“Aeron.” His smile got bigger. “I cannot tell you what a pleasure it is to meet you.” He twisted his lips. “And yet, I just did.” He chuckled. “I have long wanted to meet you.”

Aeron smiled. This man reminded him a great deal of Master Doronal. “I’m happy to meet Renata’s friend. And Polandra’s.”

“Yes. Friends are far and few between in that place, especially now.” He waved down a serving boy. “Huilacho, three bowls of tł’izi stew.”

“Yes, Uncle Isandath.”

As the server ran off, Aeron looked at the man sitting across the table. “He’s your nephew?”

“Hmm? Oh. No, uncle’s an honorific in this case. A kind of title of respect. If I were a bit older, he would likely have called me grandfather.” Isandath leaned closer to them and lowered his voice. “What became of the manis that Ikan spoke of?”

“We have him confined.” Polandra glanced at Aeron. “We spread a rumor that he’d been killed in the attack.”

Aeron nodded. “Nesch Takatin threatened to harm his little brother—a recent recruit—if Stoltz didn’t kill Anaya. We felt that if everyone thought the manis had been killed, the boy would be spared anything.”

“A good plan. Ikan said that Capu Cirtis sent the manis to ask for help?” He turned to Polandra.

“So the fighter claims. That was one thing we wanted to meet with you about. We also wondered if you had learned anything since I left.”

The arrival of their meal put off the discussion. Three large bowls of steaming stew were placed in front of them, and a wide, woven grass bowl, a heavy cloth draped over the top, was set in the middle of the table.

“Ah!” Isandath moved his bowl closer. “This is probably the best tł’izi stew you’ll find anywhere in all the villages.”

The boy smiled. “Enjoy your meal.” He hurried away toward the voice of someone calling for service.

“Let me know what you think, Aeron.” Isandath lifted the heavy cloth and removed a warm flatbread from underneath.

Aeron grabbed a spoon and tried a bit of stew. “This tastes great!” He grabbed a flatbread and took bites from it between spoonfuls. “What is—what did you call it?  Tleh-tseh?”

Isandath chuckled. “Close enough. It’s a popular goat dish made with squash, onion, and other ingredients.”

“It’s fantastic!”

Isandath nodded and dug into his own bowl. “It’s why I come to this tavern to eat.” He glanced at Polandra. “As to what I’ve learned, well, the unease within the Order extends even to the Umeri. Of all the factions, three have moved to the forefront, and I suspect a fourth works in secret.”

“What do these factions work toward?” Polandra tore off a piece of flatbread and used it to scoop up a bit of stew. She then popped it in her mouth.

“Well, there is what I’ve come to think of as the old guard. They hold to the traditions and attitudes as they’ve been. Dragons are evil and must be destroyed.”

Aeron couldn’t help but make an irritated sound.

Isandath glanced at him and smiled before returning his gaze to Polandra. “Another group I call the isolationists. They want to stop wasting limited resources patrolling far and wide and, instead, want manis patrols to stay in and around the villages keeping the peace. They dislike wasting time and effort looking for dragons, which they think are only creatures of fancy.”

Polandra chuckled. “They’ll be in for a surprise sometime in the future.”

Aeron smiled, imagining the faces on those people when a dragon flew overhead.

“There is a group,” Isandath said, “a mysterious one out of legend, really, that nearly everyone thought had disappeared. The Laminae.”

Polandra’s spoon stopped on its way back to the bowl. She whispered, “They exist?”

“They do. I’ve actually met with them.”

“Who exists?” Aeron looked from one to the other.

“The Laminae.” Isandath glanced around the room. “They want to stop the killing of dragons.”

“They sound like good people.” Aeron tried to scoop up some stew as Polandra had, with a piece of flatbread, but failed miserably.

“They killed people in the past.” Isandath frowned. “A great number of people.”

Aeron was aghast. “Why would they kill people?”

“It was nearly a century ago,” Polandra said, “a more violent time. Dragons were much more in evidence, as well. I’d be surprised if more than a handful of people alive today have ever seen one. There was a great deal more resistance to the idea that dragons might not be the creatures Yrdra created.”

“Exactly.” Isandath nodded. “Laminae leadership at the time used any means available, including murder, to try to change the Order. Besides the fact that they were going against the Principles, their use of violent tactics was the main reason their members were hunted down within the Order and executed. In fact, Laminae attacks are why manisi began to be trained in hand-to-hand combat and sorcery in the first place.” He frowned. “A different set of skills had been used to that point for capturing dragons.”

“Everyone was sure the Laminae had been eliminated,” Polandra murmured.

“A few survived and rebuilt the group,” Isandath said. “They use different methods now, or so they say. Changing the Order is still their goal, but they wish to do so with less violent means than their predecessors.”

“I wonder if Capu Cirtis is in that group.” Aeron wiped the bowl with a piece of flatbread and then popped the tasty morsel in his mouth.

“That would certainly explain why he’d send the manis to ask for help,” Polandra said.

“I do not know,” Isandath said, “but I can find out.”

Aeron pushed the empty bowl away and sat back in the booth, completely satisfied. That had been a fantastic dinner. “You said there were four groups?”

Isandath scooped up the last of his stew with his spoon and ate it. He dropped the spoon into the bowl. “Yes, but their agenda remains unknown.”

Aeron drummed his fingers on the table. “The guild is trying to determine a course of action, but first, we need to know as much as we can about what is going on within the Order. Can you find out more about that group?”

“I can. And the Laminae can help with that, I’m sure. They control the Observers.”

A quiet gasp came from Polandra. “They do?”

“Secretly, of course,” Isandath said. “But yes.”

“What are observers?”

“Spies,” Polandra nearly spat the word. “The Order spies on itself.”