“Perhaps we could ride one of the pieces when it breaks off,”
suggested Gantrell, licking the last of the fish from his fingers. His spirits had revived considerably with the warmth of the fire outside and hot broiled fish inside.
“Pretty dangerous, but perhaps a good idea,” agreed the Historian. “I have something else to try first, before we take that risk Before he could say what it was there was an ear-shattering
crackkk!
and fully a quarter of the south face of the floe slid into the sea with a vast splash and crash of waves. The remaining portion wallowed and pitched for several minutes before it became still on the water once more.
“Hurry, whatever it is!” cried Plume in terror. “We may go with the next one, willy-nilly!”
“If we go down,” Peter said shrilly, “I’ll never swim a yard with this cursed chain attached!”
“Stay here by the fire,” ordered Murdan. “I’ll be right back...maybe with salvation.”
The two nodded numbly and watched him toboggan down the north slope on his backside, dragging his arms to steer clear of drops and spires.
It took Murdan half an hour to find the Ice Dragon’s cave again, and he would have missed it even then if he’d not seen the frosty vapor of the beast’s breath from where he lay dozing in the entrance.
“Here, I say!” the Historian called, approaching cautiously so as not to slip into the sea, which was much closer than it had been that morning. “Better wake, Ice Dragon!”
“For goodness’ sake, why?” groaned Hoarling peevishly, rolling his ice blue eyes.
“The floe is breaking up and you’ll be in the sea shortly,” explained Murdan.
“Who cares? I could use a nice cold bath after my nap,” said Hoarling, but he slid himself from the cave and stretched his silver wings lazily.
“Cold water bath is just what the doctor ordered,” he said with a wicked grin. “Part of the joy of being an Ice Dragon, Sir Historian.”
“I need to ask you a favor,” Murdan said, ignoring Hoarling’s heavy humor.
“I’m already owed favors,” the beast grumped.
But he followed the man back up the hill as another piece of ice calved and dropped into the sea nearby.
“Why is that? Owed what?” asked Murdan when the noise had subsided and the island had stopped rocking.
“Your friend Constable came to me four years ago and I agreed to keep an eye on the Rellings for him. It was I who sent warning to Lexor last month when the Northmen started their silly march, you know.”
“No, I hadn’t heard that. If so, my thanks, Hoarling! You have more than fulfilled your part of the bargain with Retruance. But now I need you to help us ashore before we have to swim for it in freezing seawater—and we can’t take it as well as you, Sir Dragon.”
“I could do it easily,” agreed Hoarling as they approached the fire where Peter and Plume were squatting in a spreading pool of steaming water about the fire. “But why should I?”
Murdan introduced his companions and the Dragon settled down, just out of the reach of the warmth of the
little
fire,
to
haggle.
“My needs are simple, of course. But any Dragon worth his scales likes treasure. Gold! Pelf! Jewels! Dragon moolah! I have a few things hidden away somewhere—don’t even bother to ask where or how much!—but I can always use more. I did a favor for Constable out of professional courtesy, but you...you can afford to pay in good, old-fashioned treasure.”
“Eduard Ten will reward you in the matter of the warning of the Relling attack,” said Murdan earnestly.
“You can be sure your reward will be generous.”
“I like diamonds particularly, the blue variety that look just like ice. And sapphires, too. I prefer silver to gold myself, as far as metals go...”
Another ice facet cracked away and rumbled menacingly into the water. Half of the floe Murdan had first seen from the Relling sloop was already gone. It was early afternoon and the sun felt quite warm, making the Ice Dragon pant for breath and seek the shade of a precariously overhanging pinnacle.
“Well?” asked Murdan. “Diamonds and sapphires and silver aplenty, if you require them. I give my word as Royal Historian!”
“You are my witnesses, then,” said Hoarling to the exiled lord and his spy. “You’ll vouch for me, if it comes to a disagreement on this price?”
“Agreed,” said Peter, quickly. The ice rumbled under them again.
“May we depart now?”
“Let’s go,” shouted Hoarling over the sound of the ice slide. “Where away, Lord Historian?”
“Toward Lexor,” yelled Murdan, staggering as the ice rocked and tipped far over. “Our militia is mustered and marching on the capital even now.”
“A problem there,” said the Dragon, lowering his neck so all three could climb onto his broad shoulders, slippery with hoarfrost, although it was well after midday. “There’s a high winter storm between us and the capital. I must keep away from such stormings—lightning means great heat. Best to avoid it—and avoid the Relling armies, too, I should think, for your sakes. They may have captured Lexor by now, don’t you fear?”
“Where can you take us, then?” asked Peter. “We could go for Override or my brother’s Achievement at Morningside. Granger must be raising his levy of soldiers.”
“He is,” said Murdan.
“But that far south is highly uncomfortable for me,” objected the Dragon, shaking his head. “I can’t stand the heat. I suggest we go around the storm to the north and fly north of the Snows. You can make your way south through Summer Pass to Overhall if you’re lucky, Historian.”
“Head to Old Place, then,” decided Murdan with a nod of his head.
“It’s my mother’s Achievement north of the Snows and within a few days’ journey of Overhall.”
“We’re off, then!” cried the Ice Dragon cheerfully.
Just as he leapt into the air, the floe split in two right under them, from pinnacle to base deep under the water, and the two sides of the berg fell apart into Athermoral Strait, pushing up tremendous waves and making a racketing roar.
By then the Ice Dragon was airborne and heading west by a bit south, toward dark storm clouds across the horizon.
Chapter Nine
Katydid
A Dragon’s flashing speed was of little use, Tom found, when it came to tracking something, especially another Dragon. No wonder it had taken them so long to find a trace of Arbitrance over the years!
Tracking was something you had to do in small steps, very carefully.
Retruance, on leaving Knollwater, began a tortuous flight path, swinging miles to the north and south of the line the soldiers at Knollwater had agreed was the kidnapper’s escape route.
“It’ll take us forever and a day at this rate,” the Librarian complained impatiently.
“No easy way,” replied Retruance. “I could go faster only if we had Furbetrance here to help us.”
“Can’t you call him?” Tom asked. He confined himself to scanning the ground and waterways beneath them. There
might
be some sort of sign there, he thought.
“He’s on his way,” replied the Dragon tersely. “Now, please, let me concentrate. Papa’s trace is recent and strong, but he laid down a difficult trail—purposely, I must think.”
Tom apologized for his impatience and fell silent to let his Mount find the way.
He’d been dozing in the soft early-afternoon light for some time when his rest was disturbed by an abrupt change in course. Retruance was swooping to the ground beside a pleasant little lake rimmed with sandy beaches and set among wide, neatly furrowed fields separated by dense hedgerows and scattered groves of fruit trees. Beside the lake was a tiny white cottage and a high-peaked, brown-painted barn.
“What’s up?” the Librarian asked.
“Not up. Down!” said Retruance. “Papa must have passed directly over this cottage, and in daylight, earlier today. The country people here might have seen him fly over.”
The only person they saw when they landed before the cottage was a little girl with flowing auburn hair, arcing back and forth on a swing hung under an elegant ash at least fifty feet tall.
“Little lady!’ called Retruance softly so as not to startle the child.
“We’d like to ask you and your folks some questions.”
But the lovely child continued to swing back and forth, pushing herself with the toes of one bare foot on each pass.
“She’s deaf,” said a new voice. “Her name is Katy.”
A young woman in an eyelet lace apron over a plain gray frock stepped from the cottage door, wiping her hands on a towel. She seemed untroubled by the sight of the huge beast and his armed rider in her door yard.
“Oh, my dear young lady!” cried Retruance sadly, turning to her.
“I’m terribly sorry!”
“It
is
sad,” agreed the woman, bobbing a polite curtsy to them.
“She’s been so for several years. We don’t know why, sirs.”
“If we may, we’d like to ask if you’ve seen a green-and-gold Dragon pass over—something like this one, but slightly smaller, more golden—
this morning or late yestereve,” said Tom. He introduced himself and the Dragon and the farmer’s wife curtsied yet again.
“I’ve heard tales of the Constable Dragons,” she said soberly. “They seemed like fairy’s tales then—but now I see they’re quite true.”
“Most likely highly exaggerated,” said Retruance modestly. “Have you or your little girl seen a Dragon, ma’am?”
“Not I!” said the woman, whose name was Phoebe. “I would have remembered! But perhaps Katy did. She’s always watching the sky as she plays. She makes fullest use of her eyes, since her ears do not serve her now.”
She walked around to the front of the swing and smiled lovingly at the child, signaling for her to stop her swing and come to her arms.
Once she’d picked the child up, she turned her about and showed her the huge Dragon.
“This is Katy,” said Phoebe proudly. “My only child.”
Katy’s bright brown eyes grew almost as big as pie plates, and her mouth fell open at the sight of the vast beast so near, yet she showed no fear.
“Mama! Mama! A truly, truly Dragon!” she cried in delight, reaching out to touch Retruance’s nose, which he’d brought close to her.
“Can you tell her that I am vastly pleased to meet her?” he asked Mistress Phoebe. “I’ve rarely seen a more beautiful child, ma’am. Tell her that, too.”
The mother made a series of quick but graceful movements with her right hand, which Katy studied intently. When the message was understood, she turned in her mother’s arms and smiled brilliantly at the Dragon.
“You are the most...most...pretty and shiny thing I have
ever
seen,”
she said in an awed whisper.
Retruance blushed bright crimson—Tom had never seen a Dragon blush before—and bowed his head shyly. The little girl smiled serenely at the Librarian while the mother signed to her their names.
“I read,” Katy said to Tom when she understood that he was a Librarian. “But I have only three books. Do you have a lot of books at home, Sir Librarian?”
“Hundreds and hundreds!” Tom said with a laugh, his heart warming to the child. “When I get home, I’ll send you some. What kinds of stories do you like best, Katydid, my love?”
It was obvious that the child had learned to read lips a bit, for she immediately began to tell Tom what books she would like best.
“Picture books with lots of pictures, of course,” she cried enthu-siastically. “And stories about knights and castles and, yes, Dragons, and beautiful Princesses, and wicked stepmothers, too.”
“I have a very beautiful Princess as my wife,” Tom told her. “She would love to meet you, I know. She even has a stepmother, but this stepmother is very beautiful, too, and kind and generous. Someday maybe my own Princess and I will have a little girl just like you, Katydid. Then you could come and play with her and teach her to speak with her fingers.”
“I’d like that,” replied the child earnestly. “But won’t your little girl be able to hear? Or would she be all deaf, like me?”
“I don’t know,” said Tom, rubbing his nose to keep his voice from breaking. “But it wouldn’t make any difference. We’d love her just the same, and maybe even more.”
“My Mama and Daddy love me just as much,” exclaimed Katy.
“Can I ride on the Dragon’s back? On Re...Retruance, I mean?”
“Of course!” cried the Dragon, and he lifted the child very carefully to his head, explaining through Mistress Phoebe that Companions usually rode thus, rather than on a Dragon’s back.
“If she sat back there,” said Retruance, “she couldn’t see over my head, you understand.”
“So high!” crowed the deaf child in absolute delight. “But you’d best set me down now. Mama might worry about me.”
Once the child was safely on the ground, Phoebe invited the travelers to enter her home and share lunch with them. Her husband Martin, she explained, was working in a far field.
“We came here after the child’s illness. We were happy in Rainbow, near the great falls,” she explained. “But crowds confuse her.
Besides, we all love it here, even if it’s lonely at times.”
They elected to sit on the neatly sheep-cropped lawn under the dozen or so majestic ashes—Retruance had pointed out that he couldn’t even fit his head through the cottage door—and ate bright yellow melon slices and scrambled-egg sandwiches on toast and drank thick, red tomato juice made from the fruit in Phoebe’s own kitchen garden.
Katy ate heartily and watched her visitors’ and her mother’s lips to make sure she didn’t miss a thing—and to avoid interrupting the words she could not hear, Tom noticed. She still had much trouble reading the Dragon’s lips, however.
Retruance asked her mother to ask Katy about seeing a Dragon, and to their surprise the child nodded her head emphatically.
“Oh, yes!” she cried. “This very morning. I thought just now it was you, Retruance Constable, but it was another Dragon, I think.”
“Are you sure it was a Dragon, dear?” her mother asked. “Could it have been a great, big hawk?”
“No, Mother,” said Katy, positive as only a seven-year-old could be. “It
was
a Dragon—just like Retruance! Only not quite so big, perhaps. And shining gold, instead of mostly green. Retruance is mostly green, and hawks are brown and white.”