Meghan's Dragon (8 page)

Chapter 19

“I recognize those horsemen,” Meghan whispered. “They’re personal guards of our baron and they wouldn’t be here unless he sent them looking for me.”

“Why don’t I zap ’em.”

“Stop,” the girl hissed, pulling Bryan down again as he began to rise. They were hiding in a patch of tall grass not far from the road, a spot they had reached by running down the small stream they were crossing when Meghan’s magically enhanced hearing had told her horses were coming. Bryan had heard the horses before her, but he hadn’t said anything.

“Is this your idea of a quest? Running from everybody who wants to stop you?”

“They’ve passed now.” Meghan sighed in relief and stood. “I recognized the men but I don’t know them. Maybe they have wives and children at home and they’re good husbands and fathers. Besides, men don’t have feathers to burn, and even if you could kill them, it’s not the right thing to do.”

“It is in every game I ever played,” Bryan retorted grumpily.

“This isn’t a game,” the girl responded, stamping her hiking boot in the grass. “How can you be so eager to kill when you’ve never been a soldier except in your dreams?”

The young man shrugged as the horses disappeared from view. “I don’t know. Just seems to be the logical thing to do. And I’ll tell you one thing for sure. If you keep grabbing me every time I want to fight, one of these days you’re going to get us both killed. From what you’ve told me, unlike my previous life on Dark Earth, there’s no second chance around here.”

“But we didn’t get killed, and we barely got our feet wet. Do you want to break for lunch?” she added, knowing that food was the most effective way of improving Bryan’s mood. She glanced over with a small smile, looking forward to seeing his face change at the suggestion of eating, but he was staring at something high in the sky.

“That hawk is eyeballing us,” Bryan stated flatly.

“Are you sure?” Meghan asked, all of her faculties coming to attention. “Near,” she muttered under her breath as she stared up at the circling black dot. “Nearer. I can’t make out the eyes. Maybe it’s hunting something else we can’t see.”

“It’s looking right at us,” Bryan insisted. “I could always tell when somebody was staring at me.”

“But it’s not a somebody, it’s a hawk. Unless—I should have thought of this. Can you kill it from here?”

“You want me to toast the bird?” Bryan asked in surprise. “I don’t know. It’s awfully high and my fireballs seem to fall apart with distance.”

“I can’t tell without being closer but I think it’s being controlled. It’s not the kind of magic our people use, but the natives of New Land have different abilities. Supposedly a shaman can occupy an animal with his spirit and see through its eyes. But why would a shaman be interested in us?”

“Gold for your bounty,” Bryan said. “Anyway, if he’s going to stay that high, the only way I’d get him with a fireball is if I made it big enough for everybody around to see.”

“Let’s not worry about it,” Meghan decided. “Maybe it’s just a regular hawk, and even if it is controlled by a shaman, maybe he’s just curious.”

Chapter 20

“What’s with that clown?” Bryan whispered as they entered a roadside inn.

He didn’t need to point out to Meghan the object of his query, who was dressed in a spectacularly tasteless suit of clothes. Each of the man’s limbs was encased in a different-colored fabric, and his vest was a patchwork of striped and polka-dotted scraps. Seemingly oblivious of the attention he was receiving from adults and children alike, the man looked perfectly at ease as he sat alone at the common table, devouring his dinner like a trencherman.

“He’s a harlequin,” Meghan replied excitedly. “If he’s not a member of Rowan’s players, he likely knows something about them. Let’s join him.”

“You’re not going to offer to pay for his meal, are you?” Bryan asked suspiciously.

“You seem to worry a great deal about how I spend my savings,” the girl retorted as she dragged him towards the common table. “Have you even spent a single copper of the money Hadrixia gave us?”

“That looks like prime rib he’s eating,” Bryan said, ignoring Meghan’s question. “You promised if I spent the afternoon practicing that new thing you’d buy me whatever I wanted for dinner.”

“That new thing I showed you is basic magical energy storage and it could save your life one day,” she whispered. “Now let me do the talking.”

Meghan put on her brightest smile and sat down at the table directly across from the harlequin, patting the spot on the bench next to her for Bryan. The stranger looked up, swallowed whatever was in his mouth, and opened the conversation.

“I see you’re not afraid of a little color, unlike our country friends.”

“Oh, no. I’m a great admirer of performers,” Meghan said. “My husband and I are on our way to join up with Rowan’s players, if he’ll have us.”

“Is that a fact?” The man looked skeptically at the young couple. “You don’t seem the theatrical types, if you don’t mind my saying.”

“We’re both new to the business, but we’re willing to work our way up from the bottom,” Meghan said.

“What have you been doing until now?” the harlequin inquired.

“We were both in food service,” Bryan said. “Speaking of service, how do I get what you’re having?”

“You could fight me for it,” the man suggested mildly. “I’ve already lost once today. If I hadn’t taken the precaution of hiding my last silver in my mouth when I heard the bandits coming, I might have been entertaining these good people for a scrap of bread, rather than dining on the Ploughman’s Special.”

“You were robbed?” Meghan asked. “Was it three men, one of them with a scar running from his eye to his mouth?”

“Friends of yours?”

“They thought so, but I convinced them otherwise,” Bryan interjected, drawing a sharp look from Meghan. “About that food…”

“I see you have limited experience as a traveler,” the man said. “My name is Laitz, and I’m on my way back to Rowan’s troupe myself, so perhaps we can travel together. As to your meal—Waitress!”

The harlequin didn’t seem to speak this last word any louder, but his voice cut through the noisy conversations in the tavern like a foghorn. A young woman whose hands testified to her spending the day in the fields before coming to work in the inn materialized at the table, and the background noise returned to its usual level.

“What’ll ya have?” she demanded.

“Ploughman’s Special,” Bryan replied immediately. “And a pitcher of beer.”

“Ploughman’s Special,” the waitress bellowed in the general direction of the kitchen. “And for the little lady?”

“I’ll have a half a chicken with a potato and whatever greens you’re serving,” Meghan replied, trying her best to sound like an experienced traveler.

“We’re outta chicken,” the waitress replied.

“Do you have any rabbit?”

“Outta rabbit.”

“Meat pie?”

“Outta pie.”

“What do you have?” Bryan interrupted.

“Ploughman’s Special. You’re late and it was a busy night. Got cheese if you want. Maybe some vegetable soup.”

“Another Ploughman’s Special,” Bryan ordered. He turned to Meghan. “I’ll finish it if you can’t.”

“Thank you,” she replied sarcastically, as the waitress bellowed the order and disappeared.

“It’s quite good, really,” Laitz said. “Worth every bit of eight coppers, though I anticipate some hungry days before catching up with Rowan.”

“So these guys took your purse but they left your clothes?” Bryan asked curiously. Now that he knew that food was on the way, he was happy to engage in conversation.

“The bandits took everything, including the clothes off my back, but the one who went through my bag pointed out that my professional suit would be difficult to sell and wasn’t anything he would be caught dead in. The other two agreed, and they seemed to derive a great deal of amusement from leaving it with me. I have to admit that it draws a very different reaction on the road than what I’m used to on the stage.”

“How long have you been with Rowan’s players?” Meghan asked.

“I traveled with them for almost five years, but six months ago, I made the mistake of taking a castle job as the duke’s jester when the troupe completed its engagement there. It seemed like a wise career move at the time, steady pay and limited travel. I soon discovered that Rowan was right and that you can’t entertain the same people seven days a week.”

“Why not?” Meghan asked.

“Material gets stale,” Laitz explained. “If you do two shows a day for a few days and then move on, nobody gets tired of your repertoire. Try staying the same place for a few weeks and they’ll be pelting you with rotten fruit. After a fortnight in the castle, I found myself making up jokes on the spot to try to get a laugh out of them. It wasn’t long before I made the mistake of doing an impersonation of some of the duke’s idiosyncrasies. That earned me three months in the dungeon.”

The waitress returned and placed a pitcher of beer and two leather cups on the table before moving on without a word.

“I’ve never seen Rowan’s players,” Bryan said, filling both cups from the pitcher. “What sort of performances do you do?”

“Our main event is always a play, either a comedy or a tragedy,” Laitz said, eyeing his own empty cup. “Depending on the setup, we often did small skits all around the castle during the day, in order to drum up interest. At festivals, we frequently performed battle reenactments, sometimes playing against a different troupe. Haven’t you ever thrown coppers on the stage for a well-acted death?”

“Whenever I got the chance. Is that the pay? Whatever coins people feel like throwing on the stage?”

“Rowan covers all of our basic road expenses, plus a fraction of the take, which depends on your role and seniority,” Laitz began to explain, but just then, the waitress returned bearing two Ploughman’s Specials, and Bryan stopped paying attention.

Chapter 21

“We make better progress in the dark because we don’t have to get off the road every time we hear horses,” Meghan explained to Laitz.

“Were you bitten by a horse as a child?” the harlequin inquired. “They don’t eat people, you know, unlike chasms one might wander into after dark. When we left the tavern I assumed we were just heading down the road a bit for some peace and quiet before choosing a campsite.”

“Don’t worry,” Bryan said, “I’ll tell you if there’s a hole in the road before you fall in. So what’s your magic?”

“Bryan!” Meghan remonstrated. “It’s very rude to ask somebody about their magic like that. I’m sorry, Laitz. He’s from a village outside Castle Trollsdatter, and they don’t have very good manners there.”

“Trollsdatter? Sounds made-up to me,” Laitz commented. “And I’m not offended by your husband’s question. I appreciate a little honesty after that last gig. My magic is creating illusions.”

“Really?” Meghan asked in excitement. “I’ve read about that, but it’s so rare.”

“So is reading,” Laitz replied, causing the young woman to clamp a hand over her mouth. “Look. It’s obvious that the two of you aren’t the typical castle servants running away to join the players and see the world. That’s your business, and I’m not going to pry, but I’m a good ten years older than you both and I’ve been traveling since I could walk, so maybe I can help.”

“What does it mean to create an illusion?” Bryan asked.

“I’d show you right now, but it doesn’t work in the dark.”

Bryan struck a bright white fireball and grinned at his companions.

“You could have warned us first,” Meghan complained. “My eyes were adjusted for the dark and now I can’t see a thing.”

“That’s almost as nice as the orbs Rowan’s lighting man creates for our night performances,” Laitz said. “Can you keep it steady for a couple of hours?”

“I think so, I haven’t tried,” Bryan replied.

“You won’t go hungry if you can. There’s always work in theatre for a good lighting man. Bring down the brightness a couple of levels. A little more. Can you focus the light in one direction rather than shining like a ball? That’s good.” Laitz closed his eyes for a moment, his look of intense concentration contrasting with his garish costume. “What do you want to see?”

“A dragon,” Meghan and Bryan answered simultaneously.

The corners of the illusionist’s mouth twitched up, but he maintained his composure and began gathering the night air towards himself with repeated movements of his arms. At the same time, he wiggled his fingers in a calculated manner that made it look like each hand was playing a stringed instrument. A series of flickering shafts of light seemed to grow out of nothing before him.

A dark blob formed in the center of the projection as Laitz continued to groom the air with his hands. The shape slowly transformed into a cross, which then began to flesh out as a head on a long neck, giant wings, and a very long tail. The dark color lightened into a grayish hue, and the dragon’s mouth slowly opened, displaying a ghostly collection of dagger-like teeth. Then a sudden gust of wind blew the illusion away.

“I hate working outside,” the illusionist groused, but he looked rather pleased with himself. “All the same, the number-one rule of show business is to always leave them wanting more.”

“How did you do that?” Bryan demanded. “I thought I saw something familiar at the beginning, but then you just lost me.”

“Bryan!” Meghan reprimanded him again. “What did I tell you about asking professionals about their magical trade secrets?”

“I don’t mind,” Laitz said. “Your husband has a quick eye for a country bumpkin from outside of Castle Trollsdatter. I tried training most of the players in Rowan’s troupe as assistants over the years, but none of them had the aptitude.”

“I saw something too,” Meghan said, since the illusionist was open to discussing his craft. “It reminded me of how the light coming through an arrow slit sometimes looks almost solid, as if it’s made up of little particles of light.”

“It’s dust that you’re seeing,” Laitz explained. “There are some basic tricks related to the location of the light source and preparation of the performance space, but the toughest part to learn is manipulating the dust for shapes and colors. There was a single light shaft in my dungeon and nothing else to do, so I’m better now than I ever was. Unless Rowan has picked up a top-notch illusionist in my absence, I’m sure he’ll welcome me back.”

“Can you do any shape, or just things you’ve seen?” Bryan asked, extinguishing his night lighting.

“Any shape, but it’s easier if you know what you’re looking for before you start,” Laitz replied with a laugh. “Dragons are always the first thing the audience asks for, and if the wind hadn’t come along, I could have shown its wings beating. For performances, I seed the illusion space with colored dust while I’m making my arm passes, rather than gathering in whatever particles happen to be floating around in the air.”

“Teach us,” Bryan suggested. “We can be your assistants.”

“Can you both do basic levitation?”

“Yes,” Meghan replied. “I’ve never tried manipulating dust because there didn’t seem to be any reason.”

“I hate bringing this up, but all I have left to my name is the two coppers in change from the small silver I spent on dinner.”

“Training for food,” Meghan suggested. “It’s a good deal for all of us.”

“You made the offer, you buy the food,” Bryan grumbled.