The Last Dragon: Book Three Page 3

  “I see you hiding over there,” my voice was soft, intended for his ears alone.

  “You heard me cough but didn’t see me. Damn this smoke.”

  I faced the direction of the voice, and even though my eyes could not see him well, I spoke as if I could, thinking that might confuse him slightly. Toying with one so skilled at deception and blending into the background had its rewards on a boring sea voyage. “You have two masters, Will. What orders did my father give to you after I hired your services? And do you think me such a fool that I didn’t realize he thrust you at me as if it was my choice to hire you?”

  “Damon, Kendra, the cripple, and both little girls left the ship before the dragon attacked Trager.” He ignored my question as he filled me in on what my friends had done.

  “Before?” I heard my confused voice.

  “Yes. I saw them safely off, in a large rowboat. The dragon didn’t attack until sometime after they were gone.”

  Pausing to consider the strange tales concerning my friends, I said, “Do you think the incidents connected?”

  “Why would I think that?” he asked, seeming genuinely confused at why I would ask the question.

  To cover my slip of the tongue about Kendra and the dragon, I said, “The two things happened the same night.”

  He said, after a slight delay, “The dragon looked like the same one that killed the Wyvern in the afternoon. It is more reasonable to think the true-dragon is demented, hungry, or angry. Maybe it believed more Wyvern roosted in the city and it hates them. How could the escape of your servants and the city burning be connected, if I may ask?”

  “They couldn’t,” I snapped too quickly for my ears. Then I quickly added, “Is the smoke clearing?”

  “Not over the city, I think. But the ship is pulling away from the shore. I think we will see and breathe easier in a short time.”

  I fixed him with what I hoped was a stern and officious glare. “You evaded my question. What orders from my father that I do not know about are you following?”

  A momentary breeze cleared the smoke between us. He was not smiling. “I am to ensure your safety above all else, even my own. If required, in my opinion, I have his orders to bind you, throw you over my shoulder, and carry you on foot all the way back to Dire.”

  At last, the truth. Will would carry me across the sea on his shoulder if required. The words sounded like the king, my father. He’d also given me instructions to locate and speak with the king of Kondor, if possible. If not, perhaps I could get a message to the king without the knowledge of the Council of Nine. He’d given me other tasks as well, and I had managed to get Damon and Kendra aboard the ship, too. He would be proud.

  “I hardly think that will be necessary,” I said with a snigger.

  He said, “We both hope so, but I gave my sworn word.”

  “You will do as I order?”

  His answer was immediate. “With my life . . . as long as it does not conflict with your father’s orders.”

  I faced away from him to hide my smile. My father had his servants. I had mine. Kendra and Damon were going to try to reach Kondor by going on foot, taking a land route around the storm at sea. Perhaps from there, they could provide help for me, or even disperse the mages who were preventing the advancement of the Gallant. That the mages were so intent on preventing me from reaching the King of Kondor was becoming more evident with everything we learned, but not why.

  A council had replaced the king, all the rumors said, but they didn’t say if the king was dead or alive. My father had nearly fallen into the same trap, and he sent me to offer the help of Dire in defeating the mages, should the rightful king still be alive. He was a distant cousin I’d never met, but no matter. My job was diplomacy until more information became available.

  However, until reaching the capital of Kondor, the fabled city of Dagger, I could do nothing. As the ship moved deeper into the bay of Trager away from land, the smoke dissipated, and Will disappeared, as well. The sailors set more sails in the light breeze, the ship leaned to port, and the bow pointed at the opening that would carry us out of the bay and into the open sea.

  I went to my cabin, a generous term for a space barely large enough for a bed, and smaller than my shoe closet at Crestfallen. I stored my clothing and personal items in the adjoining cabin. The people sent with me by my father on the mission included a scribe called Soren who thought well of himself and rumor said he deserved that credit.

  Lady Grace was too polite, and barely royal, but the title was inherited even though she worked in the castle library as an administrator. I’d known her since childhood and trusted her with my life. The last was Soren, a minor scribe, but said to be more proficient than those twice his age. They were assigned as if I couldn’t tender a deal on my own or write it down. Each of them brought cases of scrolls, empty sheets of paper, pens, ink, and even bound books to refer to.

  And of course, there was Will in the shadows. My personal and secret protector. I’d expected him to travel with Damon and Kendra. I had hinted he should, and look after them also, but he had one job above all others, which was to protect me. So, he refused to leave my side, or my door, or my back where he might be concealed at any moment. It made me self-conscious. If my butt needed scratching, Will would be there to see it.

  He would also defend me with his life and what more could I ask? That all sounded optimistic. All of us had an important job to do in the strange land across the sea. After trying to nap in my cabin and failing, I returned to the deck and found it clear of smoke, more sails up, the deck again open for passengers to stroll and stretch their legs after being cramped in their tiny cabins. I walked outside and faced the wind, letting it blow my hair back from my face. Then I looked ahead to clear blue skies.

  I turned to my right, to look off the starboard side of the ship and my eyes found the line of dark gray clouds sitting on the far horizon to the south, flashes of lightning like tiny lightning bugs in summer. I glanced up and found a single Wyvern circling high above. I had no doubt the mages controlled it. It was watching me, or so I believed since the eyes were far too weak and the Wyvern too high to tell—but it was my impression.

  From the circles it flew, it was watching the ship, but that also meant me. That the creatures were being controlled in some unknown manner was becoming more obvious. I believed they provided the power for the mage’s magic to work like the true-dragon provided Damon his small-magic abilities, only it took far more of them to provide the same amount of Essence.

  The thought of Damon and his small-magic always made me smile. I remembered the cocky young royal who bored me with his childish tales of how he would someday defeat all the enemies of Dire by commanding the great generals. At my signal, Damon had drawn the moisture from the outside of a bottle of wine and concentrated it on the material of the boy’s satin pants, at the groin, so it looked like he’d peed himself. As quickly as he noticed, the dull meeting was over.

  Once, Damon had made a young royal, one who believed himself a great dancer, trip at a ball to the delight of every observer in Crestfallen. There had also been a girl my age who had tried to move in a boy I liked, and Damon had forced her to spill wine down her front. He’d performed such acts to protect and help me since our first meeting, often with hilarious outcomes. I felt the grin growing and tried to restrain it.

  I missed him! And his sister, my best friend.

  I felt as if the circumstances of becoming an adult were closing in and the fingers of them were tightening around my neck. They started to squeeze. I felt faint. And then, as if I was a child that sat again on my father’s knee as he instructed me in how to properly behave like a princess, I drew a deep breath, steeled my mind, and prepared to meet whatever challenges came my way.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Damon

  As the morning star found its way above the eastern horizon and escorted the sun above the peaks of the far mountains, the Slave-Master and I were still playing the same game o
f blocks with my freedom at stake.

  He said, “Why are you called Damon?”

  “I am an orphan, along with my sister. That is the name she used for me, so it is now mine.” I contemplated my next move at the game of blocks quietly, my eyes never leaving the assembled blocks on the small table in front of us.

  “Do you speak the language of Kaon?”

  “No.”

  “A damon in our language is a minor demon or irreverent god. It is a clever being who often appears unexpectedly and uses nasty tricks to have his way. A trickster. Is that who you are, Damon? A trickster who does horrid things to have his own way.”

  Instead of instantly denying it as my impulse suggested, I gave it some thought. The first thing that came to mind was that everyone encountered who spoke Kaon would think of me in that way. Perhaps until arriving back on the shores of Dire, I should change my name and be called by another, one more respectful. It was something to think about but not now. His revelation had already distracted me from the game, which was probably his intention. His definition might even be a lie to disrupt my winning streak while I fretted. I snapped sternly, “The name fits.”

  He laughed in a way that made me wonder if he was teasing about the name or if Damon meant what he said. I didn’t trust him at all. I’d have to ask one of his guards what the word meant and hoped the Slave-Master hadn’t instructed them to agree with is definition in advance to trick me.

  Everyone else, including his almost naked women and muscular guards, were asleep. The Slave-Master was a formidable and determined player, bluffing only enough to keep me honest. The equal piles of coins he’d originally distributed had ebbed and flowed across the board all night. Once, near midnight, he’d had me almost broke, but two sixes on my tiles had won a small pot for me, then another larger pot followed, and eventually, I had most of the coins moving my way as the tide of the game shifted to me.

  Then, the tide changed again, and the coins returned to his side. Part of that was my fault. I’d wagered too much on a middling pair of fives. His stack grew to twice the size of mine, but as luck is fickle, the next hand had three threes dealt to me, a winner most of the time. I raised his bet, and he called. A portion of his pile returned to my side. We were nearly even again.

  The night had passed without much talking. The Slave-Master was used to winning, and he was a fierce competitor. I chided him about losing, and his eyes became flat, his attention redoubled, and he won three hands in a row. I shut up.

  He yawned and said, “Will you trust me to keep our piles in my keeping until we can continue our game tonight? You can count them to make sure you have the same amount when we continue to play the game this evening. Right now, I need some sleep.”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “Then, you can place the money into two purses and keep them on your body if you lack trust in me.” He didn’t sound offended.

  I used the same flat tone as him. “No.”

  “No? What the hell do you mean, no?” he screamed loud enough to wake everyone in the camp.

  I raised my eyes to meet his and said softly, “I understand that I am your slave outside of this game. Within the game, you agreed to play dead-man’s rules. That means we don’t stop until one of us wins and the other is out of coins. If you wish to forfeit the game, please say so and accept you are the loser and that I have earned my freedom.”

  His face grew red with anger. He slammed a fist down. “I didn’t expect the damn game to last all night. I can’t stay awake. Besides, we have to move the camp and prisoners today. There is a lot of walking before we reach the slave houses in the city of Prager.”

  I fixed him with my best stare and refused to flinch or stand. To make my position clear, I slowly dealt the next hand and examined my tiles as if interested. When I met his gaze again, I said piously, “Yet you expect me to go out there in the desert sun and march in leg-irons all day after being awake all night, and then play my best game against you tonight? Hell, you’ll probably ride in the shade on top of a wagon with all these pillows and carpets where you will sleep the day away. Then you will play when I’m so tired I can’t stand upright without help. No.”

  He had the decency to look chagrined because I was right.

  I continued, “Send your guards and slaves on ahead, if you want, but if you try to quit or suspend this game, you had better kill me now because if you do not, I’ll spread the word to every kingdom that has a scribe to read what I’ll tell them about you. The Slave-Master of Kaon is a cheat at blocks and does not keep his word. Never gamble with him and spread the word to everyone you know.”

  He drew in a huge breath and allowed it to escape as a low whistle. “At this rate, the game could go on for days.”

  “You should have thought of that before accepting the rules.” I wouldn’t allow him to wiggle free. A hundred times during the night I’d been tempted to use magic to change the spots on the tiles and had resisted. Adding or removing one spot would have given me the game a dozen times over, yet I’d held off to be fair. I hadn’t found him cheating once, and I could honestly say the same for me. We were perfectly matched.

  Besides, he knew nothing of my sister and her pet dragon waiting to swoop in a rescue me—which meant he was overmatched. With her help, I could go free at any time, but he didn’t know it. However, there was the integrity of the game to consider. I would beat him fairly.

  He turned to the nearest guard and ordered the camp broken down and moved. He ordered them to remove the tent over our heads, and if necessary the carpets and everything else. If the game was still in progress, they were to depart quietly, leaving only the small table we used, and we would catch up. Then, he turned his attention back to defeating me with renewed vigor.

  They struck the tent. The carpets were removed, rolled and loaded on wagons. We moved only enough for the last one to be taken from beneath us. I ignored the slaves and guards, all of which were staring in fascination at the crazy pair of us, neither as much as looking up to see what was happening.

  He was more than a good player. He was very good. He was prideful in his skill at the game. Aside from that pride, he had few detriments, and his pride was how I’d use him to get my way when the time was right. He also had a ‘tell’ when happy. Twice he had powerful hands that might have ended the game, but I forfeited the pots early and lost minimal amounts because of it. Watching for his left cheek to twitch was not cheating. He was free to do the same to me as part of the game.

  Gradually, the stack of coins again shifted my way. Gradual because greed always loses at games of chance, so I had to play conservatively. We had both played cautiously early, protecting the coins we had rather than risking them on aggressive bets. He saw the subtle shift in my style and played a little more aggressively, which was a poor choice for him. Twice he lost hands he shouldn’t have played. The game reached a point where one good deal would allow me to take the remainder of his coins. His face grew redder as he realized the squeeze game I now played. I took no risks and bet only small amounts or folded my hand unless I had a sure winner. He won a few coins here and there, and I did the same. However, I took all the larger pots, or I didn’t play. He grew frustrated.

  Near midday, he glanced at the only three remaining coins in front of him. His hand was probably marginal, but he lacked the coins to continue playing if he lost them. He slid all three to the center as a final challenge. A bluff. I saw no sign of the facial tic that indicated he held any power tiles, so I carefully matched his wager. When exposed, his hand was poor, mine worse. The pot was small. Instead of scooping up the winnings, he settled himself back and said, “Why?”

  “Why?”

  “You knew you would lose that hand. You held nothing but played, anyhow. That is not like you.”

  I said, “Perhaps I misjudged.”

  “What have I missed?” He settled back, pulling away from the table as he considered what happened. His voice was as cold as a mountain stream in spring. “
You knew I’d win that miserable hand and yet you played anyhow, drawing my full attention at the prospect of a winning hand. Are you trying to delay the game by letting me win small amounts, so it continues forever? If it is your plan, that won’t work.”

  “I admit that I did it to distract you, but not to delay the game,” I said.

  “Why? That makes no sense.”

  I placed my tiles in front of me, face down. “Your only bodyguard who remained here to protect you was taken prisoner at the point of an arrow while we played that hand. He is now tied with strong rope and is weaponless.”

  The Slave-Master nodded once. He accepted my explanation without even glancing behind to see if it was true. He knew it was. “So, you were playing two games.”

  I lowered my eyes to the table. “This one is not over. You are a good player.”

  He didn’t turn as my sister advanced into the clearing with the massive guard hobbling in front of her. His hands, legs, and ankles were tied. She used my sword to prod him now and then and to remind him of who was in command.

  “Are you ready to leave, Damon?” she asked.

  “No,” I muttered. “I have a game to win.”

  “If you lose?” the Slave-Master asked.

  I looked at him, his dark skin glistening in the heat. “I gave you my word. The rules remain the same.”

  He bent over the table and examined his new tiles. I watched for the tic but decided it could be from a good hand or from the respect I gave him in keeping to our rules. He ignored Kendra as if she was not there. I didn’t see or hear the girls but assumed they were close.

  Kendra said to me in the tone equivalent to a sisterly eye-roll, “You’re going to sit there in the hot sun and play that silly game all day?”