A Sword for a Dragon (20 page)

This was ridiculous, he couldn’t rape someone who was chained to a bed. His desire had vanished.

“You are a soldier? You look a little young to be a soldier.”

“Dragonboy, one hundred and ninth dragons, Marneri Second Legion.” He said it with pride.

“Dragonboy? What does this mean?”

“I am paired with a dragon. I take care of him. We fight as a team.”

“I have heard that dragons fight in the armies of the North, that they are very terrible.”

“They are when they’re aroused.”

“And you have brought these terrible monsters to Ourdh?”

“Yes. We fought the enemy four days back, up north from here.”

“And you defeated the enemy?”

“Big battle.”

“Yes, that was what they were expecting when I was abducted.”

“When you were abducted?”

Her lip curled. “Did you think I was some common street whore?”

“To tell the truth, no I didn’t.”

“Well, you have some wits at least. I am Miranswa Zudeina, and I am here because my evil, hateful aunt had me abducted. She wishes to steal my inheritance.”

He sucked in a breath, astonished.

“My father died recently. He was a Dneej and a great merchant. He hated Aunt Elekwa. Some say she poisoned him. He would not leave her anything in his will. I would have inherited everything.”

“Why should he leave anything to this aunt of yours anyway?”

“Elekwa is the first wife of the emperor’s brother, and very powerful. We always believed that she poisoned my mother, she was jealous of her beauty.”

“So you think she killed both of your parents?”

“Yes. My father could not hide his hatred of her.”

“Hmm, sounds like your father bequeathed you a lot of trouble then.”

She agreed with a toss of her head. Then she broke into tears. His heart was rent.

“And now,” she sobbed, “now I am condemned to be raped here, over and over again for the rest of my life.”

Relkin had never met with such outright injustice.

“I will not let it happen!” he exclaimed.

“You will help me?” She seemed surprised.

“Of course. We’re going to get you out of here right now.”

“The slave master will take you.”

“He can try.” Relkin pulled his knife.

“You will be castrated and sold as a gardener.”

Relkin didn’t give it a second thought. There was a single window in the room, and he opened the shutters. Below, there was a small courtyard with the backs of other buildings on the far side. There were several doors, some of them open.

“All we have to do is climb down and go out through one of those buildings.”

“And then what? We’ll be in the middle of Kwa, and you will be a thief. Thieves they sell in the slave market. I will be returned to the slave master, and they will beat me and chain me up again.”

“No, we’ll go to the legion and tell General Hektor. He will not allow this.”

Her eyes came alive at this. “How far is it to your legion’s camp?”

“A mile or so, we can be there in ten minutes if we run.”

She licked her lips, looked to the door, and calculated that this was probably her only chance of escaping the horrifying fate that Aunt Elekwa had arranged for her. No one would ever find her here and with Daddy dead, she had no protector. She would stay here chained to the walls in Zedd’s whorehouse until she was too old and worn-out to serve anymore. Then she would be sold to some other slave master and taken on the rural circuits to service old men in the villages.

“Let’s go.”

He levered away the links connecting the chains to the cuffs on her wrists.

“We’ll get those off you once we get you to the camp.”

Miranswa was an agile girl, and though not gifted at climbing, she managed well enough until they reached the ledge atop the first-floor window. She slipped and fell the rest of the way, landing by chance on some bales of hay stacked along the bottom of the wall.

Relkin was down beside her in a moment, and together they ran across the courtyard and darted into an open doorway. Behind them there came a hoarse shout of rage. Then they were plunged into darkness and found themselves inside a room thick with batshooba smoke. Men were sitting around small tables drinking kalut and smoking batshooba through large water pipes that gurgled.

At the sight of Miranswa, who wore only the silk robe provided by the whorehouse, the men jumped to their feet. Shouts of anger and astonishment arose.

By the time they reached the door, they were being pursued by a dozen or more men who bellowed as they came, enraged at this insult to tradition and taboo.

Outside in the street, Miranswa’s clothing was just as problematic. In Ourdh, all women wore the garub in public and kept their heads covered. A woman wearing a silk robe tied at the waist and nothing else would be arrested and quite possibly hanged in public after a brief trial.

Relkin dragged her into a small, hole-in-the-wall shop that appeared to sell cloth. The owner appeared, a short round man with an oily smile. His face purpled at the sight of Miranswa, and then Relkin had his dirk up against the man’s throat.

Miranswa found some black cloth, a fine woolen. A mark along the side denoted it as woven in faraway Cunfshon, by deft hands in old Defwode. Hurriedly she cut herself a large piece that she contrived to wrap around herself and pin together in front like a garub. She cut another piece and wound it around her head. For a veil, they took the man’s handkerchief. Relkin dropped a couple of pieces of silver from his purse into the little man’s nerveless hand, then they fled.

The shopkeeper had emerged from his shop and was yelling after them when Relkin waved down a ricksha pulled by a pair of men chained to the rail. Miranswa climbed aboard and shouted something in Ourdhi to them, and the men took off at a fast walk. Relkin crouched in the back next to Miranswa and looked behind them.

The shopkeeper and his fellows were standing in the midst of the avenue waving their fists, but no longer pursuing them.

However, Relkin knew, they would soon run into the pimp and his guards.

“We need to get out of this ricksha soon. Get another one. The pimp will be after us.”

“No need,” she said. And then she gave the ricksha men new orders, and they began to turn to the right and then entered another, smaller street, a narrow place running between rows of two-story mud-brick tenements. Miranswa turned them again, and they entered a slightly grander street.

Relkin was beginning to feel lost. There was no sign of pursuit behind them.

“Where are your friends?” she asked.

“The camp is in an arena, they use it for chariot racing.” Miranswa conversed with the ricksha men and soon had them heading north along a small avenue lined with large three-story houses, some of which were surrounded by gardens brimming with flowers. Quite soon the walls of the arena became visible, and Relkin realized that he was going to be in a great deal of trouble. How was he going to explain this away? He’d be lucky if he wasn’t flogged out of the legion.

Porteous Glaves fidgeted in his tent. This night would be the making of him or the breaking. He had decided that there was no other way.

The moment of decision had come when General Hektor had refused his plea for compassionate leave and ordered him to remain at his post. There was a sloop, the
Ivory
from Talion, in the port of Kwa. It was heading back to the Argonath shortly. Porteous Glaves had hoped to be aboard when she left.

Glaves wore a massive bandage on his forehead where the surgeon stitched a long shallow cut. The surgeon had seen many such wounds. He remarked to General Hektor in Glaves’s presence that normally men got up and fought on with blood in their eyes. With such a wound, they didn’t lie prone on the battlefield until the fighting was over.

Hektor had turned to Glaves with brooding eyes and told him curtly to return to the Eighth Regiment. Glaves had made his decision then and there.

Glaves exhaled and poured another glass of the Ourdhi wine. His eyes fell on something, and he guffawed suddenly. No one would ever discover the truth, he’d make sure of that!

Leaning against the side of the tent was the captured banner. He’d had Dandrax bring it to him from the dragonboy’s tent. Porteous intended to send it back to Marneri that very night with a long note attached that would explain how Porteous Glaves had personally captured the banner after leading a heroic charge that broke the enemy line and ended the battle.

His messenger would be the captain of the merchant sloop
Ivory
, which would sail within the hour and be in Marneri in a week.

Glaves poured more wine and rolled it around his mouth, savoring it. The local wines were very good, rich and fruity, with a degree of complexity. He wondered how General Hektor was enjoying the wine at his dinner with Major Breez.

Glaves was moved to chuckle at the thought. Soon, very soon he would be released from this mad adventure. Within days, he’d be on a ship himself and on his way back to a glorious reception as a war hero in Marneri.

There was a movement at the flap. Dandrax looked in.

“Visitor for you, master.”

It was Captain Streen of the
Ivory
, a lean-faced fellow from Vusk.

“Commander, I will put in to Marneri for you within the week. Once we beat out of the gulf of Ourdh and get around the Cape, we’ll be running in front of the wind the whole way.”

“I am very grateful to you, Captain, as will be the people of Marneri to whom you will be taking this token or our conquest here in Ourdh. The morale of the city will be greatly improved, you can be certain.”

“And I will be a gold piece to the better, correct?”

“Ah, yes, of course. You will go at once to Master Ruwat, and you will give him this letter. He will pay you.”

“Well now, Commander, I do like to be paid in advance in matters such as this when I’ve not dealt with the shipper before.”

“Captain Streen, are you doubting my nature? Be assured that I have no need to stint you for your coin. And besides, this is for the cause.”

“Aye, that it is and I honor you for it, but if I trimmed my sails for the cause every time, I turned around, the
Ivory
would not be mine for long. We must make money, and I must get my cargo to Talion as soon as I can.”

“Captain, I am shocked at such a lack of patriotism, but I must put it down to the vagabond life lived by those who go to sea. I will give you five silver pieces, and when you see Ruwat, he will give you five more.”

Glaves altered the letter to Ruwat and then bade the Captain farewell.

With a sour chuckle, he poured himself more wine. Silently he toasted the future. Just a few more days of this, and he, too, would board a ship for home. Porteous Glaves drank deeply and then emitted another roar of laughter.

At the gate to the arena, Relkin and Miranswa climbed out of the ricksha, and he paid the ricksha men with two copper pennies.

The guards held them while a message was sent at his request to Captain Hollein Kesepton, who served on the staff of General Hektor. A few minutes went by, and then the Captain appeared. He seemed flustered.

“What is it? This is no time for jests.”

Quickly Relkin explained. Kesepton ordered that the girl be taken to the quarters of the weather witch. Then he sent Relkin back to his post.

“You and the others will be punished for this you understand. Right now we have more important matters to deal with.”

“Others?” said Relkin, trying to keep up the pretense.

“Swane and the rest. They were clever enough to mistake a priest of Auros for a pimp, and he took a dislike to young, arrogant foreigners hunting for whores in his neighborhood. So he arranged for them to get a beating. They were dumped at the gate here from a dung cart.”

Relkin gave a low whistle. So he’d been right, after all. In a way.

He noticed men rushing by, there was an air of tension and confusion.

“What has happened?”

Kesepton’s brow furrowed. “While you’ve been out rescuing fair maidens, General Hektor, Major Breez and the chief surgeons have been poisoned. Their wine at dinner, I believe.”

“But how?”

“We’ve been lax about accepting food and drink from the local people. Something like this was bound to happen sooner or later. The enemy here is well represented throughout the country. Anyone could have slipped them a poisoned bottle.”

Kesepton dismissed him, and Relkin returned to the 109th dragons with his thoughts in a whirl. He found the dragons still fast asleep, but the dragonboys were wide-awake. Dragoneer Hatlin sent for Relkin and put him on punishment detail at breakfast.

Swane of Revenant and the others were in a group drinking some hot soup. They had bandages on blackened eyes and bloodied noses.

“You were right, Relkin, we went with the wrong man,” said Shim, whose little snub nose had been broken in the beating. “How did you make out?”

Relkin restrained any urge to boast. Mono’s eyes were blackened, and his face was rubbed raw where he’d been dragged along a street. Swane of Revenant was huddled over, he didn’t look up.

Solly Gotinder, who tended Rold, a big brasshide, was stirring some soup in a pot.

“So our man from Quosh is back. How was it?”

Relkin accepted some soup. It was hot and salty.

“Not what I expected.”

Solly chuckled, “At least you didn’t get beat to a pulp.”

“Well, whatever will be, you know. We all make choices in life.”

“That’s right. Now you got punishment detail in the morning. You better get your head down for a while.”

“What’s the rumor mill saying about what happened to General Hektor.”

“Well, they’re hunting for whoever it was that gave them the wine. But we’ve all been accepting gifts from the locals, so I don’t think they’ll have much luck. Anyway, I heard that the general had about half a glass of the wine. He’s unconscious, but he’s alive. Major Breez is dead and so is one of the surgeons.”

“So old Pax is commanding officer then?”

“Right, but there’s trouble with the Kadeini. They want General Pekel.”