Dragon Kiss (15 page)

“None, really,” said Audun. Performing tasks for the dragon king and his council didn’t seem to count as a job.

“A son of the privileged class? There are a lot of you looking for work just now. We’ll try not to hold it against you.” Smugsby chuckled with his mouth open, showing Audun the gaps between his teeth. Turning to the other man he said, “Write that down—no prior work experience. What about skills?” he asked, turning back to Audun.

The dragon-turned-human thought hard. As a dragon he had plenty of valuable skills. He could fly, swim, hold his breath for a long time, find things by their scent, and slide down the ice on his belly. As a human he couldn’t do any of those things, except maybe the belly sliding. He could grip small items easily now and his skin was more sensitive without his scales, but he didn’t think the steward would find either of those things impressive.

“I assume from your silence that you don’t have any skills,” said Smugsby, as the other man’s pen scribbled away. “So tell me, lad, why should I hire you?”

Audun’s expression brightened. Here was a question he could answer. Swinging the sack onto the table, he took out the tankard and handed it to Smugsby. “Because I brought you this.”

Smugsby glanced at the tankard and scowled. “I should give you a job because you brought me an ordinary tankard? The thing isn’t even made of silver! Do you honestly think I’d demean myself by accepting anything less?” He glanced at the man beside him, who was writing down every word. “Scratch that out, Pringle. I told you there have been rumors that the king might start looking at the books.”

The man beside him looked pained. “I’ll have to redo the entire page. Scratch-outs aren’t allowed in the official records.”

“So do it,” snapped Smugsby. “But first you can escort this young scallywag out of the castle.”

Pringle sighed, crumpled the piece of parchment, and stood up. “Come with me, young man. You shouldn’t have wasted Master Smugsby’s time like—”

“But you haven’t even tried the tankard!” Audun told the steward. “Fill it with your favorite ale. Or wine if you prefer,” he said, talking faster as Pringle came around the table. “It’s a magic tankard. Fill it once and it will never be empty again.”

Smugsby quirked one eyebrow. “Magic you say? Now, where would a boy like you get a magic tankard?”

Audun was about to tell him that he’d bought it at the Magic Marketplace, but Smugsby waited only a heartbeat or two before saying, “I like a man who can be discreet. Pringle,” said the steward, as the other man reached for Audun, “do as he says. Fill it with ale—no, make that an expensive wine just in case, then bring it to me. If this boy is telling the truth, he’ll be rewarded with a job, but if he’s lying to the king’s steward, I’m sure they can find room for him in the dungeon.”

While Pringle went to do the steward’s bidding, Smugsby sat back in his chair and smiled at Audun. “You’ve provided me with entertainment, boy, something I rarely get these days. If you are telling the truth, I’ll have a magic tankard and a boy working for me who has enough skill to beg, buy, or steal one, any of which would be useful to me. If you are lying, I’ll see you thrashed and thrown into the dungeon for the rest of your days, which would be diverting in itself. Ah, there you are, Pringle. I hope you got me something tasty. I’ve worked up a thirst talking to the young scamp.”

Smugsby took the filled tankard, being careful not to spill a drop. Tilting his head back, the portly man began to drink. Both Audun and Pringle watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he took one gulp after another. Audun glanced at Pringle as the steward continued to drink. The man had looked skeptical at first, but his eyes grew wider and his jaw began to sag as Smugsby showed no sign of stopping. When the steward finally lowered his hand, smacked his lips, and sighed, Pringle ran around the table to look in the tankard. Even from where he stood, Audun could see that wine filled the tankard to the brim.

“Excellent!” Smugsby said, wiping his face, which had grown pinker with each gulp. “It looks like I’ve got a bottomless tankard, and you, my boy, have got yourself a job.”

“What should I write down?” asked Pringle, picking up a new sheet of parchment.

“Write that the boy is intelligent and will do admirably as my new assistant,” said Smugsby. “Then take him to get a new suit of clothes and his sleeping assignment.” He smiled as he turned to Audun. “You’ll start work in the morning. Come see me then.”

“But what do I do about the other applicants?” asked Pringle. “Don’t you want to see them?”

“Not today,” said Smugsby, smiling into the depths of the tankard. “Tell them to come back tomorrow. I’m going to be busy for the rest of the afternoon.”

Seventeen

P
ringle took Audun down another corridor and into a small room where he dug through a trunk and found a plain blue tunic and brown leggings, much like the ones he was wearing himself. He handed over a pin identifying Audun as one of the steward’s men and said, “You’ll sleep in the room at the end of the corridor. Take one of those pallets,” he added, indicating a pile by the door, “and find a space on the floor. You’ll be eating with the rest of the servants. At first light, be in the room where you spoke with Master Smugsby to get your instructions for the day. Now, be off with you. I’m a busy man and you’ve already taken up too much of my time.”

Audun nodded, too excited by his success at getting a position in the castle to think of all the questions he should be asking. While Pringle retreated down the corridor, Audun picked up the cleanest-looking pallet and hefted it onto his shoulder. A trio of maids so alike that they had to be sisters watched him walk to the end of the corridor with obvious interest, but Audun simply said hello and continued to the room, mindful that these girls looked as if they belonged together. Although he really didn’t know what a girl who didn’t belong would look like, he was certain that she wouldn’t have family around.

The room was larger than the one he’d been given when he first arrived at the dragon stronghold, but the walls were lined with rolled-up pallets so Audun knew that come nightfall he’d be sharing the room with quite a few others. In the meantime, the remaining hours until supper were his own and he decided that it was the perfect opportunity to go exploring and begin his search for the girl. Hoping to blend in, he changed his clothes and tucked his old ones inside the bedding on the pallet before setting it against the wall. He would find the girl right away, if he was lucky, and never have to come back to this room again.

Audun headed toward the Great Hall first, having passed the entrance in the corridor when he was walking with Pringle. Song of the Glacier had told him to look for an orphan girl who didn’t belong. Galen, one of the boys he’d found in the desert, had told him that all the children who’d been left without parents had been brought to the castle. Didn’t that mean that none of them really belonged? He’d have to find the orphans and see if one of the girls stood out from all the rest.

Once he stepped inside the Great Hall, he realized that it was bigger than the dragon king’s audience room. He stood gaping at the high ceiling and weapon-decorated walls until he heard a group of pages and younger squires making rude comments about the peasant from the country.

“Don’t pay them any mind,” a dirty-faced boy with scruffy brown hair said, stopping by Audun’s elbow. There was a smudge of ash on his upturned nose and one of his front teeth was chipped. He looked as if he couldn’t be more than nine or ten years old and the top of his head scarcely reached Audun’s chest. Obviously a servant, he was carrying rags and a bucket and was dressed in a soiled tunic and patched leggings with shoes so ragged that most of his toes were showing. Although humans rarely washed and usually smelled of body odor or perfume, this boy smelled like he’d rolled in a pigpen
and
hugged an old billy goat. Audun didn’t care. He thought most humans smelled bad, anyway. “They want everyone to think they’re sophisticated,” the boy continued, “but half of them are from the country themselves.”

“I’m surprised there are so many people here,” said Audun. “Did they all come with King Dolon?”

“Just the ones who are acting all puffed up like they’re something special,” said the boy, glancing at a young woman walking heedlessly through a cluster of people who stepped aside as she’d obviously expected them to do. “That’s Dolon’s daughter, Gabriella. She used to be called Gabby, back when her uncle was king. The nobles who are here were either Dolon’s friends or the ones who changed allegiances as soon as they saw which way the wind was blowing.”

“What about you?” asked Audun. “It sounds like you’ve been here awhile.”

“I have, one way or another,” said the boy. “My name is Jim.”

“I’m Audun,” he replied. “I’m pleased to meet you, Jim. But should you really be telling all these things to a stranger?”

Jim shrugged. “Why not? No one cares what someone like me thinks. To most of the people here, I’m practically invisible unless they need me for something. You will be, too, once you stop gawking and making yourself obvious. Just act like you’ve been here for years and know exactly what you’re doing.”

“Good point,” said Audun. “I’ll have to try harder.”

“You do that,” Jim said, backing away. “See you around,” he added.

Audun watched as Jim slipped through the crowd without anyone looking his way. People in the Great Hall made him feel uncomfortable, so he followed Jim’s suggestion and tried to act like he knew what he was doing as he started to leave the room. He had almost reached the door when it occurred to him that the Great Hall might be just the place to find the girl, since it seemed that nearly everyone passed through it. Instead of leaving, he walked to the wall as if to inspect a tapestry that he’d seen from a distance, intending to watch the comings and goings from the side of the room.

The sound of a scuffle in the middle of the Hall drew his attention. Jim was on his knees, cleaning up spilled ale. The same pages who had mocked Audun were now gathered around Jim, calling him names and trying to push him over with their feet.

“The filthy pig reeks! He’d do well to dump that water on himself, not the floor.”

“Maybe we should help him. Hand me the bucket, Ronald, and we’ll give him a bath!”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said Audun, putting his hand on the page’s shoulder. “No one deserves to be treated like that.”

“Who are you to talk to me that way?” asked the page. “You’re new, but I can tell from your clothes that you’re just a servant. You shouldn’t even be talking to me. I’ll report you and see that you get punished for this.”

“Really?” said Audun. “And while you’re reporting me, you should add that you were trying to keep another servant from doing his job, and because you both live off the king’s treasury, you’ve been wasting the king’s money. Just how kindly do you think he’d feel about that?”

“Why I . . . We were just . . .”

“I thought so,” said Audun. “If you don’t like the way someone smells, then stay away from him.” Nodding to each of the boys, Audun walked away, leaving the pages staring.

“We’d better get out of here,” Jim said, tagging along at Audun’s side. “They could easily change their minds and report you.”

Audun shrugged. “I’m not afraid of them.”

“Maybe not,” said Jim. “But I am. I appreciate what you did. No one has stood up for me for a long time, but I’m afraid this will only make things worse. Take my advice and steer clear of them. That’s what I do.” The boy gave Audun a pat on the arm, leaving a dirty handprint, then ran off through the door leading from the Great Hall.

Audun was disappointed in himself. He shouldn’t have butted into a conversation that didn’t involve him if he didn’t want to be noticed. But then, he couldn’t just let those older boys pick on Jim. It was getting harder and harder for him to blend in. Someone was sure to ask questions about him if he kept drawing attention this way. Taking Jim’s advice, Audun left the Great Hall.

He drifted through the corridors, learning his way around the castle while keeping an eye out for the girl, but when the light outside the narrow windows began to fade, he followed the scent of cooking food to the kitchen. Audun was a door away when he once again heard familiar voices and peeked into a room just off the kitchen. Nearly a dozen people were seated at a long table and among them were some of the men who had sat with him in the waiting room that very morning. Seeing Audun in the doorway, one of them called out, “So you got a job, too! Congratulations! Come in and join us.”

When the man slid over to make room for him, Audun took a seat, not knowing how to refuse.

“I’m John, and the ugly cuss on your other side is Gib,” said the man who’d moved over. “What job did you get?”

“I’m working for the steward,” said Audun, as he accepted a platter from a pretty girl with freckles and a friendly smile. Although supper wouldn’t be served for over an hour in the Great Hall, the servants who would be doing the serving there were already sharing their meal with a few friends and acquaintances.

“Lucky you!” laughed John. “I’m a server, until I find something better. I didn’t know it until I got here, but my brother Patrik got his old job back. He’s head baker and the best one this castle has ever seen. Here, try some of his bread. Then tell him how good it is. That’s him in the doorway.”

Dragons don’t eat much besides meat and fish, but Audun took a small hunk of bread and bit into it, just to be polite. The outside was crusty while the inside was soft and chewy, much like an oyster. He thought it was probably very good, if you liked bread, so he had no problem calling, “It’s delicious!” to the man in the kitchen doorway.

Patrik grinned and nodded, making Audun feel as if he’d finally done something right. No one seemed to notice that he didn’t finish the bread, although they made comments about how much sausage he was able to eat.

Seated with the new people were servants who had been there during King Cadmus’s reign. Audun learned that although the king, his family, and many of his nobles had run away or been killed, many of the servants who had stayed behind had continued working in the same jobs they’d held before.

As Audun listened to the conversations around him, it was the older servants who proved to be the most informative. While some gossiped about the love lives of their fellow servants and others talked about members of the nobility who had recently moved in, it was the woman seated at the end of the table who really sparked his interest. “I don’t care what you say about Princess Gabriella. She doesn’t hold a candle to my little Shanna! I was nursemaid to all four of Queen Floradine’s babies and was there when the good queen died at Shanna’s birth. That little one stole my heart. It was nearly the death of me when I heard that the poor darlings were lost in the desert.”

“She doesn’t seem very upset now,” Audun whispered to John.

Gib must have heard him, because he leaned closer and whispered, “There are rumors that the children still live. They say that those rumors are all that keep her going. Meg couldn’t stop crying the day they disappeared. We all thought their uncle Dolon had had them executed, but no one does that and then spends so much time looking for them.”

A man on the other side of Gib nudged the woman beside him and whispered something in her ear. She glanced toward the doorway and her mouthed crinkled in distaste. Audun let his gaze follow hers and was surprised to see Jim. When Audun smiled, the boy waved a greeting, but didn’t cross the threshold until Meg called, “Come in, boy. Look at you! You’re all skin and bones. I’ve seen boiled chicken bones with more meat on them than you have. Patrik, serve up a plate for our Jim, won’t you, please, darlin’?”

“He’ll do it, too, seeing that Meg asked,” Gib whispered to Audun. “Patrik has been sweet on Meg for years. He told me all about her long before I ever came to the castle.”

“Wouldn’t he give the boy a plate, anyway?” asked Audun.

Gib shook his head. “No one goes near the boy if they can help it, except Meg, that is. The rest of us stay away from him and he stays away from us. Get a good whiff of him and you’ll know why.”

Audun watched as one of the scullery maids handed a plate to Jim. The boy ducked his head and whispered his thanks, but the maid had already hurried away, holding her nose. Jim sighed and took the plate to the corner, where he sat on the floor with his back to the wall and tore the meat with his teeth. Audun decided that the boy must be ravenous.

“What about Davie?” asked someone farther down the table. “Any word on how he’s doing?”

“Dolon beat him the night before last when the poor man was slow to refill the tankards at the head table,” Gib told Audun. “No one’s seen him since.”

Smithson shook his head. “It wasn’t Davie’s fault that he was late. It was his turn to take the food to the south tower. You know he has a soft spot for those orphans, locked away waiting for their families to come for them. He always dawdles when he goes there. We’ve been shorthanded,” he said, glancing at the new servants. “It’ll be better now that you’re here.”

“What’s this about orphans?” asked another man who had also been hired that day.

“After he took over the city,” said Gib, “Dolon had his soldiers go through the streets, looking for orphans from wealthy families. The children were brought here to the castle. He said it was so he could take care of them, but he locked them in the south tower and sent word to their relatives that they should come fetch them. He told the head cook that we weren’t to give them but the smallest portions of food. ‘Let their relatives bear the brunt of their expenses,’ he said. We do what he orders us to, officially, but we can’t stand to see the wee mites go hungry, so we take a little extra when we can.”