Chronicles of the Red King #3: Leopards' Gold (18 page)

“What news do you have?” Zobayda begged. “We have learned not to trust the chancellor’s men.” She glanced at her ring. “But how can we continue like this, virtual prisoners in our own home?”

Llyr sat beside her and removed his helmet. He noticed the children staring at his knives and grinned. “Yes, I can turn bones into steel,” he said. “As for news …” His cheerful expression fell away, as though it had been a mask. “It is grave, the news, and I wish I didn’t have to give it to you.”

“What? What?” Guanhamara came closer to the wizard. “Tell us!”

Llyr looked at Zobayda and then at the king’s children, his eyes resting on each face for several moments.

“To begin …” He ran a hand through his damp yellow hair. “Last night, Wyngate lay beside Rigg. He lay on the cold stone floor and would not move all night, for he said the bellman might dream, and he might talk in his sleep. He might murmur a word or two that could tell us who opened that window and let two strangers in.”

“And did he?” asked Guanhamara. “Did Rigg talk?”

“Not in his sleep,” said Llyr. “He recovered a little, woke up, and cried for water. And Wyngate was there with the water almost at once. Poor Rigg was so pleased to see a friendly face he broke down in tears, and that’s when Wyngate asked him, ‘Who let this happen to you, Rigg? Who do we have to fear?’”

There was a tense silence in the room. They waited, almost afraid to know Rigg’s answer. Elin and Zeba crept closer, their bare feet making no sound at all on the king’s thick carpet.

At last Zobayda asked, “And did Rigg answer? Did he see the man who let two strangers into our castle?”

“He did.” Llyr buried his face in his hands, shook his head, and stared at the sky turning bright in the window.

In a hushed voice, Guanhamara asked, “Who?”

Llyr took a deep breath and said, “It was your brother Borlath.”

Zeba gasped, but no one else said a word. Had they guessed? Had they known all along?

Zobayda said, “But why? What reason could he have for throwing away our chances, of weakening the strength of our marvelous spell-wall?”

“He told me once,” said Llyr, “that he had no time for spells and wizards. ‘We should be able to defend ourselves,’ he said, ‘without resorting to magic. Where’s the pride in that?’ And then he put his face very close to mine and almost whispered, ‘Imagine what it’s like, wizard, to know that you will die before your father? That you will never inherit his castle, his treasures, all this?’ And he waved a hand at the courtiers in their bright clothes, the horses, the guards, the dogs and geese and children.”

Zobayda sighed. “I think I knew, but couldn’t bear to accept it. Envy is a dreadful thing. Resentment, even worse. They warp you. And now he’s in the forest with the king.”

Llyr lifted his head and stared at the painted ceiling. “He’s here.”

“What?” Zobayda exclaimed. “Borlath, here?”

“He rode in a short time ago, alone. The leopards behaved very strangely. They prowled about him, growling. He kept an eye on them and wouldn’t dismount until two of the chancellor’s men came to help him. And then he told us that all the knights were dead.” There was a cry from Elin, but Llyr pressed on. “They were set upon by bandits in the middle of the night. The king was captured and badly wounded. Borlath was the only man to escape.”

“Lies! All lies!” cried Guanhamara.

“The king can’t die,” Zobayda said quietly.

“It’s not that,” said her niece. “I know the knights aren’t dead, and I know the king can be rescued.”

“How do you know all this?” asked Llyr.

Guanhamara twisted her hands together. “I saw it, I dreamed it. I saw a cloud, hanging on a lake as smooth as glass, and I know my father and his knights were there. I know it.” Her eyes filled with tears and she stamped her foot.

“Calm yourself.” Zobayda got up and put her arm around Guanhamara. “I have dreams and often they come true.”

“But what do you do about them, Aunt? What use are dreams if we can’t … If we can’t do anything about them?”

Zobayda looked thoughtful. “We’ll just have to think how we can find this cloud that sits upon a lake, and rescue your father and his knights.”

“The eagles could tell us,” said Petrello. “They can see everything from up there.”

He nodded at the sky through the window.

“I wish I could fly,” said Guanhamara, and slowly, very slowly, she turned her head and looked at Tolly.

Petrello found himself doing the same, and in a moment, everyone but Zeba and Elin was looking at Tolly. Poor Tolly’s face turned crimson. He stared at the floor and shuffled from one foot to another.

“I’ll go,” said Tolly, in the quietest voice imaginable. “But not alone,” and he looked at Petrello.

Petrello felt slightly dizzy. How could he and Tolly fly above the forest? The air couldn’t hold them up so high. Tolly might have wings, but he didn’t. And yet he couldn’t let his brother go alone. He grinned at Tolly and said, “Then I’ll come with you.”

P
etrello and Tolly were alone on the battlements. Llyr had offered to come with them, but Petrello said no, they must be on their own. If they failed there was nothing anyone could do.

The sky was a clear blue, the wind so gentle it hardly ruffled their hair.

“D’you think I’m a coward?” asked Tolly, frowning.

“I wouldn’t like to go out there all by myself.” Petrello stood by an opening in the wall. The forest was still emerging from the dawn mist, the birdsong lifting out of it, soft and muffled. He had suggested they leave from the battlements because he remembered how the wind had pulled the king’s cloak into the sky, how it had held it up so powerfully. His hand reached for the sword his mother had left for him. Zobayda had found it in the queen’s dressing room. His name was on a label tied to the hilt. So she believed in him after all. He wouldn’t let her down.

“D’you think I can lift you?” Tolly sounded doubtful.

“The air will carry us.”

Tolly’s dark wings were spread behind him. In the airy light, the colors in the black shone like jewels. He flapped them slowly, once, twice, and then, suddenly, he was in the air.

“You’re going without me?” cried Petrello.

“No, no. I was just trying them out.” There was pride and panic in Tolly’s voice. He kicked the air, and rose even higher. “How do I get down?”

“Wish it!” called Petrello. He had no other suggestions.

Tolly closed his eyes, stopped flapping, and landed, rather heavily, on the battlements. “Ho!” He coughed. “I’m all shaken up.”

They laughed together, nervously.

“Climb on my back,” said Petrello. “You know, like you do when we’re playing horse. I’ll hold your legs very tight; then, when you rise into the air again, I’ll come with you.”

“D’you think so?”

“I know so.” If not certain, Petrello was at least hopeful.

Tolly gave a short run; he jumped. Now he was on his brother’s back, his arms around Petrello’s neck. His wings came down, the tips brushing Petrello’s arms. And then they were in the air.

They sailed over the wall and the air held them. Petrello told himself he wouldn’t look down, but he did. He could hardly believe what he was seeing: his own feet with nothing solid beneath them and, far below, the castle gardens, fast disappearing now. The wind grabbed his legs and they flew out behind him. Now they were over the forest, and he could see deer in a glade, staring up at them.

Something hot touched his foot. He gasped. Were Tolly’s wings on fire? Before he could shout at his brother, a great whoosh of air knocked them sideways. Tolly shouted, but the wind filled Petrello’s ears and he couldn’t hear the words.

A huge shape swept through the air above them, flames shooting from its snout. It was Enid, her great wings and tail creating a wild gusty draft.

Once the dragon was ahead of them, she stopped cavorting in the air and began to glide. Petrello was immensely glad to see her. With a dragon on their side, nothing seemed impossible.

They watched the trees pass beneath them for mile after mile. They saw glades and rivers, rocky hills, banks of flowers; they saw hares running, birds’ nests and heronries, but never a lake as smooth as glass. Tolly’s wings became as much a part of him as his legs and arms. He began to control them with ease. But although Petrello believed in those great black wings, he never lost the feeling that the strong current of air beneath them was somehow connected to him.

“Let’s make some circles,” Petrello shouted to Tolly. “We’ve been flying south for a long time, but the lake could be in the east or the west.”

“Agreed!” Tolly took off at a frightening speed. He circled above the trees, he zigzagged, bobbed, and tilted. And Enid never left their side. She seemed to be enjoying the exercise; her flames began to shoot alarmingly close and Petrello had to shout, “No, no, no, Enid!” She seemed to understand and moved off a little.

At least she’s keeping us warm
, thought Petrello.
Otherwise we’d be freezing cold up here.

Ravens, hawks, larks, and swallows swung away from the unlikely creatures that frolicked in the air. Even the eagles kept their distance.

Gradually, Enid’s warmth stopped reaching them. She was still close by, twirling and whirling along, but Petrello’s feet were getting colder and colder. The forest below had lost some of its greenness. In fact, the more he stared at it, the less like a forest it looked. Was that snow lying on the topmost branches? It couldn’t be. It hadn’t snowed for weeks.

Enid’s flames began to flicker, like candles in a breeze, and then they died altogether. The dragon made a choking sound. She blinked, coughed twice, and then, all at once, she began to drop toward the forest. She flapped her wings, but it seemed to be an effort. The dragon turned her head and looked up at the boys, her expression anxious and questioning.

“Trello, I can’t feel my wings,” called Tolly. “We’re going down.”

Petrello sensed something dragging his legs. He kicked out at empty air. And then, below them, he saw a pale cloud, lying in the center of a lake as smooth as polished glass.

There was nothing they could do to stop their rapid tumble through the sky. Petrello watched the lake come closer and closer; they were about to fall into the icy-looking water when, with one last desperate beat of his wings, Tolly veered to one side. They landed heavily on a stony beach. Petrello let go of his brother’s legs and they rolled apart.

For a moment, they were both too stunned to speak. Petrello could see Enid crouching on the stones a short distance away. Her crested head drooped and a low gloomy grumble came from her throat.

“Enid, what happened?” Petrello asked, not really expecting her to hear.

But she lifted her head and ambled over to him.

“It was like a cold power, dragging us down,” said Tolly, pulling himself upright.

Petrello sat up and patted the rough scales on the dragon’s neck. She grunted with pleasure and a tiny flame appeared at the end of her snout. Petrello was glad to see it. “I thought you’d lost your fire,” he told her.

Tolly was staring hard at the cloud. Following his gaze, Petrello saw that it wasn’t an ordinary sort of cloud. It was more like a giant white nest. Thin, wormlike strands snaked into the air above it, and long, feathery stuff extended from all sides. Petrello recognized the poisonous fungus that Llyr kept for rare and powerful spells.

“Can anyone be alive in there?” Tolly murmured.

“Yes,” Petrello said fervently. “The king. He has his cloak.”

“How do we reach him?”

“We must fly above the cloud….”

“And drop into it?” asked Tolly. “We’d be choked to death.”

“Let’s think.”

They turned and walked toward a copse of birch trees growing beside the lake. Enid followed, thumping over the shingle like a heavy bag. They had almost reached the bank when they noticed a man standing very still beside a silvery birch.

Even as they looked, more figures appeared. They were much smaller than the first. They massed behind the man as though they were afraid.

Tolly and Petrello stopped. “Shall we fly?” Tolly whispered.

“I’m not sure,” said Petrello.

And then the man called, “Enid, welcome! Welcome, Princes!”

Tolly and Petrello exchanged glances. It seemed that the strange man was a friend. They followed Enid’s example and continued toward the bank. As they drew closer, they could see that the man’s dark hair clung to his scalp like a cap of silk. He wore a rough hempen shirt and breeches made of some shiny animal hair. His feet were bare and the skin of his handsome face was pale and sleek. The crowd of children was dressed like the man; some of them looked related to him.

When they reached the stranger, he said, “You don’t know me, of course. I left the Red Castle ten years ago, when you were but a few weeks old; I think you must be Petrello.”

“I am. And this is Tolomeo.”

The man took first Petrello’s hand, and then Tolly’s. “I’m Tumi,” he said, “and some of these rascals are my children.”

All the children grinned at the princes and dipped their heads, as they called out their names. They spoke so fast, Tolly and Petrello remembered none of them.

Tumi studied the boys’ faces for a moment. “I saw your wings,” he said to Tolly, “and knew that you must be Timoken’s sons. You are both like him, if a little paler. But then your mother is very pale skinned. I trust she’s well.”

Petrello hesitated, and Tolly said, “We don’t know.”

Petrello added, “We’ve come to find our father. We believe he is in that smothering cloud. Our mother and our brother Amadis are also somewhere in the forest.”

“But we don’t know where,” Tolly burst out. “And we don’t know how to rescue our father.”

“We’re in a bit of a fix,” said Petrello.

Tumi’s face became very grave. He looked at the cloud and said, “Yes, certainly a fix. You’d better come home with me, and we’ll try and sort this problem out together.” He turned to the children. “Get your baskets and bring them along, as fast as you can. Don’t linger by the water. Ketil, you’re in charge.”

The tallest boy in the group said, “Yes, Father,” and the children all ran down to the water’s edge. There they proceeded to haul in dome-shaped fish baskets, tied with twine to large pebbles on the beach.

Tumi led Tolly and Petrello around the edge of the lake. Enid came lolloping behind. She never took her eyes off the cloud until they came within sight of a very strange house. It sat above the water on tall wooden stilts, and a plume of gray smoke curled from its round clay chimney. Petrello wondered how they could possibly reach it without getting very wet. But as soon as they were opposite the house, Tumi called, “Sila, Timoken’s sons are here.”

A door opened and a long ladder was thrust out. The end splashed into the water a short distance from the bank.

“Take off those fine boots, young men,” said Tumi. “We have to paddle now.”

The boys sat down and pulled off their boots, while Enid watched, a slight suspicion creeping into her yellow eyes.

“Can Enid come in with us?” Tolly asked.

Tumi glanced at the trees leaning close to the beach. Petrello could see now that the topmost branches were hung with the deadly fungus that filled the cloud. “The dragon shouldn’t stay out here,” Tumi said. “Go and meet my wife. I’ll deal with Enid.”

Petrello climbed the ladder first. He didn’t know what to expect when he reached the top, and was astonished to see such a beautiful room inside the odd-looking house. Colored carpets covered the floor and the walls were hung with polished shells, beads, crystals, and shining stones. In one corner, a log simmered in a small iron grate, and around the walls there were mounds of bright blankets and cushions.

Tolly stepped into the room. He stood gazing at the walls while a woman, standing by the door, clasped both the boys’ hands. “Welcome,” she said warmly. Her round and gentle face was framed by hazel-colored curls and soft lines ringed her large brown eyes. “I’m Sila,” she said, and then, turning to Petrello, “And you are Petrello.”

“How did you know that?” he asked.

“I knew by the little breeze you brought in with you,” she said. “We left the Red Castle just after you were born, and I remember your mother saying that you brought a little storm into the world with you. All the pretty covers, the cloths and shawls and baby blankets went flying about the room.”

“Really?” Petrello hadn’t known this.

“There, you’ve done it again,” she said, and Petrello noticed that the crystals, the beads, shells, and stones were all jingling in a tiny breeze.

Sila laughed. “They named you Petrello after the bird that thrives on stormy seas.”

“I didn’t know that,” said Petrello. “I think I must have lost my storminess for a while.”

“They named me Tolomeo,” said Tolly, “because my mother came from a place called Toledo.”

Enid’s snout appeared in the doorway. She seemed to be smiling, though it was hard to tell. It might have been a grimace for, behind her, Tumi’s groans were getting louder and louder. Suddenly, Enid’s whole body burst through the door, with Tumi tumbling after her, his hands still on her thick tail. “Dragons aren’t meant for ladders,” he puffed.

Enid shuffled into a corner, looking a little bemused.

A moment later, the children appeared with their baskets of fish. As soon as they saw Enid, they dropped their baskets by the door and ran to make a fuss of her. They knew she was a dragon because of the many stories their father had told them.

Tumi sat in the open doorway and gutted the fish, while Sila hung a cauldron of water above the fire. And as Tumi worked, he told the boys how he and Sila had left the Red Castle to live on the lake, because Tumi missed being near water. Their friends Karli and Esga had come with them, and Timoken himself had helped to build their house, “with that wonderful way he has of multiplying a plank,” Sila put in.

“All our children can swim like fish,” said Tumi. “And I mean fish, for they can stay under water for a long, long time.” He put down his knife. “And that is how we plan to rescue your father.”

“How?” asked Petrello. “Why is he there? And what is that cloud? Who made it?”