A Storm in the Desert: Dragonlinked Chronicles Voume 3 (49 page)

I feel comforted, in a way, by how little hatred I have sensed in most of them.

“Look at the ceiling.”

Aeron glanced up before he thought to wonder who could be speaking in the quiet voice.

“Don’t look at me suddenly.”

As casually as he could, Aeron looked around the room and then at the two watchers. They were supposed to be deaf and mute, weren’t they?

The left one, lips barely moving, spoke again. “Your dragon will be executed tomorrow night.”

Sure that the other guard had eyes on him, too, Aeron struggled to keep his face emotionless. It was not easy.

What happened?

“Our mutual friend thought you should know, so that you might ready your plans sooner.”

They’ve moved up your execution to tomorrow night! Why would they do that?

It does not matter. When Balam and Willem return, I will tell them.

Eyes still on Aeron, the man’s face remained impassive, expressionless. Aeron looked away. Was he one of Capu Cirtis’s people, or was he one of those new friends he’d talked about? Whatever the case, the watcher did not speak again.

The hours passed excruciatingly slowly, with Aeron unable to stop thinking about the moved up execution. Their plan should work, but even so, the thought of someone killing Anaya chilled him to the core. What if something went wrong? His plan had been based on what Capu Cirtis had told him about past executions. What if the Order changed how the execution proceeded? They moved up the night, after all, who’s to say they wouldn’t change anything else?

Aeron rolled on his side, toward the wall. He wasn’t one for prayers, but he sent a silent one out anyway.

Ulthis, if you’re really out there, help me save your other creations. Or at the very least, help me save Anaya. Please.

They are here.

Thank the gods! Tell Willem I miss him.

He misses you, too.

Have you told them of the change to tomorrow night?

I did. Willem says not to worry, they are ready.

Aeron hoped so. Still, as he waited for sleep to take him later that night, he went over the plan again, looking for ways to adjust it should something change.

+ + + + +

Takatin stared at the ceiling, light sheet covering his chest. It had required a great deal of work, one didn’t change something like that easily, but tomorrow night, one part of his plan would be complete. Then he could turn his attention to figuring out what to do about the loss of his birder.

‘At its core, the Order is honorable.’

Takatin frowned as the boy’s words returned to him. They had done so more often than he liked. Why? The core of the Order was rotten, not honorable. The blight of the First Principle was spreading through the organization like . . . like the poison from the sting of a sand wasp.

The dreams from the other night had been unusual and strange. The first two had almost been like reliving those events, so detailed had they been, while the last one . . .

He shook his head. At any rate, the Order needed the same treatment as anyone stung by the slow to anger desert creature.

He turned on his side.

Still, something nagged at him. Some vague feeling of unease. It was ridiculous. His hands were clean. He’d done nothing but suggest, point things out. What others did was not in his control. If they took measures more drastic than he would have, that was their doing. He couldn’t be blamed for that.

Turning on his back to face the ceiling again, he let out a breath.

Cirtis was of a mind with the dragon boy. But the man had been trying for decades to fix the Order. Was that not enough time to prove the inadequacy of his methods? The Laminae had tried too, nearly a century ago. Tried with measures of a level unmatched even by anything National Transportation had done. Tried and failed. They’d had their turns.

Takatin rolled on his other side.

Years ago, he’d started by testing the waters, talking with people, listening. He spent a great deal of time going over the reports from the Observers. He found a few core people and began laying the groundwork for future efforts. Then National Transportation had come, and it became clear: It was his turn, now.

He rolled onto his back.

Wasn’t it?

Takatin frowned. Damn the boy and his words!

“You are sure your people are ready?” Cirtis stared at the silverlocks. A slight dawn breeze  momentarily bent a few of the upward stalks.

“They were ready yesterday, so the change to tonight will not be an issue. Incidentally, I was unable to find a single previous instance where an execution was moved up as it was for Anaya.”

Cirtis glanced at Isandath. All contact with the Laminae was now through the master archivist. Looking back at the garden plot, Cirtis said, “I suspect some of the old guard, as you call them, began to worry at the reaction people have had to the dragon.”

“Capturing her, bringing her here, was perhaps the worst thing that they could have done.”

“But it has been a boon for us.”

“Indeed. She’s as magnificent as Nayra. No, I take that back. She’s even more so, because of her self-assured confidence.”

“Nayra?”

Isandath didn’t reply immediately. When he finally did, his voice was quiet. “The Order was not as successful in eliminating dragons as it supposed. There are a number that remain, in hiding.”

Cirtis slumped a bit. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders that he no longer need support. “That is incredibly good to hear. I had feared—” He sat taller and took a breath. “Good. Perhaps redemption may one day be possible for us.”

“Just remember that you cannot yet be thought to be allied with the Dragon Craft Guild. Aeron’s plan is a good one. Let the rest of us do what needs be done from the shadows while you continue as you have. Your time will come.”

“The blades provided you with the updated patrol routes for this evening?”

Isandath nodded. “They did. I will go to Pashi and deliver it to one of our friends this afternoon.”

“How will they know to meet you there? Don’t they normally contact you at night?”

“Anaya will tell them. Some friends arrived this morning in order to keep communications open in case Takatin or the umeri decide to change something else.”

“Prudent,” Cirtis said. “But I still do not understand how they speak to each other.”

“If you are lucky, perhaps one day you will.”

He glanced at Isandath. The man’s lips curved in a small smile while he stared straight ahead. Cirtis looked again at the silverlocks. “Ulthis willing.”

+ + + + +

Due to the near panic some of the umeri evinced yesterday, and their strident request to change the execution to an earlier day, Takatin set aside some time after lunch to see what exactly they were so worried about. He stood in the shade in one of the covered walkways around Daelon’s Plaza. Leaning on a pillar with his arms crossed, he stared at the dragon.

To his surprise, it just lay there, chained but unconcerned, occasionally glancing at someone nearby, a pesan, usually. It exuded calm and patience. The seemingly serene creature was the most un-dragonly dragon he’d ever heard tell of. And perhaps because of that, m
ost of the faces of those standing about, watching it from a distance, showed no trace of fear, or hatred, or even dislike. Instead, there was interest and wonder and awe.

“We should have killed the beast last night, like I suggested.”

Takatin glanced at Umeron Yiska. He, too, watched the people watching the dragon. The man apparently spent all his time, now, watching the dragon and the crowd’s reactions to it.

“Killing it last night would have been a wasted opportunity,” Takatin said. “I want as many people as possible to witness the execution. Doing it tonight allowed us to announce the change to the villages.”

“Even so, the thing worries me. Have you seen the people watching it? They are not disturbed by the beast at all. And no wonder.” He gestured. “Look at it! Why isn’t it frightened by all the people in the plaza staring at it? Why doesn’t it pace? Why doesn’t it look about nervously, or at least whine, or howl, or growl? Instead it . . . chirps . . . and sits there as if deigning to allow us to look upon it.”

“It does seem to have a noble bearing.” Unsure why he’d chosen those words, Takatin looked side-long at the umeron to gauge his reaction.

The man merely frowned and made a warding motion at the dragon. “It’s unnatural.”

“It dies tonight,” Takatin said. “You can take some small measure of comfort from that.”

“We should have killed it last night,” the umeron insisted.

Ohs and ahs from the crowd drew Takatin’s attention. The dragon had stood and unfurled its enormous wings, stretching. When it arched its back and extended its forelegs like a cat, the chains running from the shackles to the stone blocks rattled and clinked. The beast then settled its wings upon its back, lay down, chin upon its paws, and stared at a nearby pesan girl.

With a slight bob of its head, the dragon let out a chirp at her.

The girl and her friends screamed in delight and started chatting excitedly.

Surprised to be smiling, Takatin quickly cleared his expression.

‘You’re just killing the wrong things.’

He clenched his jaws. Aeron and his damn words. Spinning on his heel, Takatin walked away.

+ + + + +

Willem stood when Polandra entered the cave. “What did he say?”

She glanced at him while unrolling a piece of parchment. “It will happen at sunset. It’s tradition, apparently, and that one, at least, they are following.”

Willem frowned and looked at what she’d brought. “That the new routes?” The parchment was covered with lines and notes: a hand-drawn map.

“Yeah.” Polandra studied the notations. “So, how did they change the routes to free another hand for the ceremony?” She looked it over a bit and then grunted. “Damn.”

“What?”

“Even as shorthanded as they are for patrols, they’re being extra cautious.” She tapped the map. “See this? There will be a patrol passing nearby during the start of the execution. It seems a little too coincidental.” Her lips twisted into a grimace.

Did something happen?

Not really. I just found out that there’ll be a lot of manisi near them tonight.
A flicker of worry came through the link.
Would you like to come to the caves?

I must stay here at the Caer for now, so that we can let everyone know what happens there.

You’re worried, though.

I am. But everyone comes to visit me and comforts me. I am glad that we have friends like these.

Me too.

He stared at Polandra. After a moment, he said, “I’m sorry.”

“Hmm?” She looked up from the map. “For what?”

“I—” He cleared his throat. “I haven’t always thought kindly of you. I was jealous of the trips you and Aeron took together. But that was just my insecurity. You’ve been nothing but a friend, and I am sorry that I haven’t always been the same to you, at least in thought.”

Polandra opened her mouth, blinked, and then closed it. She stood up and smiled. “I accept your apology, though none was needed. Friends forgive each other for misunderstandings.”

Willem smiled. “That’s true.”

She turned back to the map. “I mean, it’s not as if I’d kissed him or anything . . .”

His eyes grew large, then he burst out laughing. “Liara told you?”

Chuckling, she nodded. “Yeah.”

“Gods. I hope she didn’t tell everyone.”

“Oh, no. She’s only told me.”

Willem twisted his lips in a grimace. “She can be pretty forward.”

Polandra’s lips curved in a smile. “That she can.”

“But you know what? She has a good heart.”

Polandra glanced at him.

“That’s important.” He leaned over the map and tried to make out what the symbols meant.

“Good frosting and good cake.”

Willem looked at her, wondering what she meant, but she was staring at the map. Hadn’t she said something about cake and frosting before?

“Luckily,” she said, “the changes to the routes will make it even easier for us to get in position. We’ll have to keep an eye on that patrol, though. I wouldn’t put it past Takatin to have the route be a feint, and instead, they head in to Daelon’s Plaza. The courtyard sits right off the concourse from the entrance. Maybe Fillion can watch them.”

“Right.” He looked at the map. “If they look like they are heading in to Bataan-Mok, maybe we can do some sort of diversion to distract them, so Aeron and the others don’t have three hands to deal with.”

Polandra nodded. “Yeah. The others should be arriving soon and we can talk about it then.” She stood and turned to the short tunnel leading to the cave mouth. “Twilight is an odd time of day. The light changes, becomes strange. Even so, we’ll all need to be careful not to be spotted. We’re going to be flying there just before sunset, after all, while the sun is still up.”

“At least it will afford us a little protection. It will be in anyone’s eyes that looks the direction we’re heading in from.” Willem glanced down the tunnel. The cave mouth opened on a desert vista bathed in late afternoon light. The sun would set in a few hours, and by then, Aeron and Anaya should be back.

No, Willem thought, they
will
be back. They will.

+ + + + +

Aeron paced back and forth along the bars of the cell. He took normal steps now, though he’d earlier discovered that his cage was about six of his feet—heel to toe—in width and almost exactly eight of them deep. Hands clenched at his side, the skirt had no pockets, he stared unseeing at the dusty stone floor as he walked. Each time he reached the wall on the right, however, he’d glance at the heavy door while turning around. Not at the guards. The one had not uttered another word. No. It was the door that occupied him now, and when it would open.

Where is Capu Cirtis?

Though Aeron didn’t know the exact time, he knew it was late in the day. The man had said he could get Aeron near Anaya, but how? And when? Would Aeron be bound, or free to walk about? The same questions had plagued him for some time now. When would he get answers?

He’d started this ‘patrol’ of the front of the cell to do something with all his nervous energy, but it wasn’t helping much anymore. His breathing was faster, now. It sounded a little like panting. Each heartbeat was heavier and almost hurt. And his stomach, too, felt off. As he paced along the front of his cell, he took deep breaths to try to calm himself.

The plan will work. The plan will work. The plan—

They are all here, at the caves.

He stopped mid-stride and stood taller. His mind went still, the nervous thoughts silenced. His heart slowed along with his breathing, and he felt the anxiety leave his body, replaced with calm determination. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then he turned toward the door and sat on the cool stone floor.

Good.

The plan would be in motion, soon. He was confident it would work but was ready to do whatever it took to see it through. Besides, his friends would be here with him.

He’d sat there for perhaps ten minutes when the door opened.

Capu Cirtis stepped through. A guard entered behind him, then approached the cell. When the cell door was unlocked, Aeron stood.

“Come,” Capu Cirtis said. “I thought you might want to freshen up a bit before the ceremony.”

Aeron’s brows drew together and he stared at the Capu.

What happened?

Capu Cirtis just arrived. I think he’s going to take me to you.

Anxiety and excitement came through the link in equal measure. Aeron felt the same.

He stepped out of the cell. “Thank you.”

“There is less than an hour,” Capu Cirtis said, “so we should hurry. Come.”

Aeron followed the Capu out of the room. The guard who’d unlocked the cell followed them along with another who’d been in the hallway outside.

The sound of the large door closing came from behind.

“We understand that the dragon may mean something to you,” Capu Cirtis said, as he walked along the dim hallway, “as you are in the Dragon Craft Guild, so the Nesch and I have agreed that it would be a kindness to let you say goodbye to your friend before the, ah, conclusion of the ceremony.”

He
is
taking me to you. To say goodbye.

Goodbye?

That is the excuse he came up with to let me be near you. Of course, there will only be a hello.

Aeron lost track of the passages they took, so many were they, but eventually, they came to a wider hall and stopped before an archway. There was a wall just inside the arch, but a peek within revealed openings—doorways?—on the left and right, and the sound of running water came from them. There must be some kind of room or rooms beyond.

“These are the pesani baths,” Capu Cirtis said. “You have perhaps ten minutes to freshen up before we must leave for Daelon’s Plaza.” He gestured to the archway while the two guards moved to either side of it.

Aeron walked in and took the right doorway. There were no indications as to which was for boys and which was for girls. He hoped he’d guessed right. It turned out that it didn’t matter. Both doors went to the same place.