Dragon Stones (47 page)

Ponn stayed very still as the scavengers picked the craggy stones clean, until he heard a whirring sound and the door began to descend, groaning in its track; then he quickly pulled back and ducked through the hole, into the warm, stinking tunnel on the other side.  Dim light came from somewhere up ahead, giving him the hope of a way out.

He would hate to be among the refuse that slid down the chute the next time this door opened.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

After passing through the castle gate, Diasa and T'Sian entered a wide, churned courtyard.  The open space smelled of horses, straw, sweat, earth.  T'Sian heard flies buzzing nearby and quickly spotted a heap of manure off to the left, shielded from the elements by a wooden cover.  A large overturned wheelbarrow lay beside the pile, along with a few shovels; a small cultivated area nearby appeared to have been allowed to go fallow, perhaps in anticipation of winter.  "So this is what the interior of a man-castle looks like," she said.  "It is even more squalid than I had imagined."

"Not up to the standards of your cave, eh?"

"My lair is not a
cave
.
"  T'Sian sniffed the air.  "This place reeks of garbage and filth, and I am sure that I smell those accursed birds."

"Tolaria did mention an entire aviary full of them."

"Yes.  And when my fire has been restored, I will find them and roast them."

"I'm sure that will improve the odor.  Hush, now."

After a moment, T'Sian said:  "Did you just tell me to hush?"

"Only until we're well away from the guards.  Then you may complain all you want."

T'Sian eyed the keep.  The gravel path on which they walked led to a wide opening in the stone wall, blocked by a partially lowered portcullis.  Guards stood on each side of the entrance, beneath little roofs to protect them from the elements; these looked remarkably similar to the shelter over the manure pile.  The men watched as Diasa and T'Sian passed by, but did not challenge them.  A short corridor waited beyond the gate, leading to a large, wide, well-lit hall.  Drying, muddy straw littered the floor, while torches lined the walls; those near the doors and windows were unlit, while others, farther back in the depths of the castle, provided guttering illumination.  A number of doorways and arches beckoned, while stone stairways led both up and down.  "So many ways to go," T'Sian said.  "Where would a creature such as Qalor have his laboratory?"

"Somewhere that fires and explosions wouldn't damage the rest of the castle.  A separate wing, or perhaps underground," Diasa said.  "We can't just wander the castle looking for it, though.  We'll arouse suspicion."

A number of people populated the room:  Servants about their business, pages in feathered caps, giggling ladies whispering behind raised hands as they bustled through.  "Ask one of these fools," the dragon said.  "Someone must know."

"No, not here.  We can't just walk in the front door and start asking about Qalor. I work for Gelt, I'm supposed to know these things."

"What do you suggest, then?"

"The kitchen staff," Diasa said.  "They'll know.  More to the point, they'll tell; such servants are cheaply bought or easily threatened."

"Very well.  And where is the kitchen?"

"You're the one whose nose tells her everything," Diasa said.  "Let's follow it and see where it leads."

Tolaria was bored and worried, a bad combination; boredom left her mind at leisure to wander down different avenues of conjecture about what the others were doing, and worry ensured that all of those avenues ended in disaster.  How long had they been gone?  She wished she had some sort of timepiece, or that the castle bell were audible here, so she could know for sure how long it had been.  The triangle of sun creeping across Diasa's bed served as a crude measure of time, but it was hardly specific, and in any event she had lost that when the building next door had begun to block the light.

How had it come about that all three of her companions were trying to break into Dunshandrin's castle, leaving her here alone?  Madness.  She almost wished she would slip into another of her involuntary trances and get a glimpse of the future; not that it would do her much good.  She probably wouldn't remember it anyway.

If only she could be more like Ponn's daughter!  The child, well rested now, had been amusing herself by pulling straws out of the mattress and bending them into animal shapes.  She presented each one gravely to Tolaria, as if offering them for sacrifice, though without saying what sort of creatures they were supposed to be; Tolaria had accumulated quite a menagerie of mystery beasts.  Perhaps they were denizens of the Enshennean jungle, things that the girl had seen creeping around outside her windows at night.

Frustrated, she lay down on her cot, staring at the cracks in the ceiling, a prisoner with nothing to do but wait.  Before long, she felt a small finger poking her on the shoulder.  She turned; Prehn was holding up another figurine, this one formed from several bits of straw twisted together to create what looked like a very large snake.  Perhaps it was supposed to be the dragon.  "Thank you, Prehn," Tolaria said, taking it and putting it with the others.  She could almost imagine it opening its vast jaws and slurping down the other miniatures.

Then, because it was more enjoyable, she imagined it swallowing Torrant and Tomari instead.

The dragon had done it; she'd found her way through the cold, dim corridors, bringing them to the kitchen, where servants toiled at the thankless task of feeding their betters.  Diasa could feel heat radiating from the wide, open archway, and for the last several minutes had been able to smell the odor of cooking food.  T'Sian had obviously smelled it all along, though, and had been able to tell where it was coming from, despite near-constant complaining about how dull her senses were when in human form.  Diasa wondered if it was really true, or if the dragon was being disingenuous.

T'Sian said:  "Now what?"

"Now we go inside and have a chat with the staff."

"Will we threaten them?"

"Not at first," Diasa said.  "They should cooperate, if we ask the proper questions in the proper tone."  T'Sian seemed a bit too disappointed by this response, so Diasa added:  "Let me do the talking."

"Fine.  You talk.  If that does not work, then I will threaten."

"Fair enough."

They entered the kitchen.  Diasa felt moisture break out across her face as the heat of the room closed around her like sweaty fingers.  She counted four ovens of varying sizes, lining the wall opposite the entrance; huge fireplaces stood to the left and right, while a large central fire pit burned directly ahead of them.  Cauldrons hung on hooks over the pit, while long-handled pots and massive frying pans simmered in the hearths.  Soups, vegetables, meats, stews; the riot of odors rendered any individual food undetectable, except for the dominant smell of baking bread.  Kitchen staff bustled about, ignoring their visitors.  This did not surprise Diasa; their chief interest would be in making themselves invisible, lest they should be called upon to perform some particularly unpleasant or arduous task or singled out for blame because someone had disliked his afternoon meal.  Diasa grabbed one of them by the wrist as she passed by.  It was a slip of a girl, wearing a smudged tunic that looked like it may once have been a feedbag.  She stared at Diasa with huge, hunted eyes.  "Yes, my lord?" she said; then, realizing her mistake:  "I mean, my lady?"

Before Diasa could speak, T'Sian said:  "We're looking for the alchemist."  Diasa shot the dragon a look of exasperation, but T'Sian merely smirked, her unnaturally wide mouth curling up at one edge.

The girl looked puzzled.  "Qalor?  He's not allowed in here, not since he put a potion in the soup.  Everyone knows that."

Intrigued, Diasa almost asked what kind of potion it was; instead, she pulled the girl aside, near one of the fireplaces, so that the roaring of the flames would help drown out their words.  T'Sian followed slowly, throwing fearsome glances at any who looked her way; she was rewarded with cringes and quick aversions.  How had Ponn managed to develop a rapport with this creature?  But of course, T'Sian considered everyone in the castle to be her enemy, and doubtless held each of them personally responsible for the slaughter of her hatchlings; she couldn't, or didn't choose to, appreciate the distinction between people like these kitchen workers, who were little better than slaves, and the lords who dwelt in finery above.

The servant girl had begun trying to pull away, pointing vaguely at the fires and whining protestations about her work.  "Be quiet," Diasa said.  "We know Qalor is not here.  We were on our way to his laboratory and got turned around in these accursed corridors.  How do we get there from here?"

"I don't know."

"She lies," T'Sian said.

"I'm not lying!"

T'Sian elaborately inspected her long, pointed, gleaming fingernails.  "I think you are."

"You've never brought food to him?" Diasa said.  "He's never asked for a special platter in the middle of the night?"

"We're not permitted in the laboratory," the girl said, eyeing T'Sian the way one might watch a man who was waving a sword and muttering to himself.  "There's a dumbwaiter."

"A waiter who cannot speak?  Can he lead us there?"

Now she graced Diasa with the same stare she'd given the dragon; obviously she thought they were both mad.  "It's not a person, it's a little box.  We put the food in it and lower it down.  He puts the dirty plates back and raises it up."

"What nonsense is this?" T'Sian said.  "A little moving box?"

"Show us this dumbwaiter, then," Diasa said.

The girl pointed at a small, square door in the wall, which Diasa had originally taken for a lesser oven.  "That's it, right there."

Diasa and T'Sian stood before the dumbwaiter, which the kitchen maid had opened, revealing a boxlike cavity.  It was large enough to accommodate a human such as Diasa, T'Sian thought, or even herself, although her own mass would likely overwhelm whatever wizardry allowed it to move up and down between the floors.  "How does it work?" she said.

"It's something to do with water, that's all I know.  You turn the knob and it moves.  Left is for down, right is for up."

From behind them, someone said:  "Qalor built it a few years ago, after they blocked up the main entrance to his suite.  He said it worked by
hydraulics
, whatever that means."  T'Sian turned to regard this new speaker, a fat man in a dirty smock who had apparently decided to wander into the conversation.  He shooed the girl away, then took her place between Diasa and T'Sian.  "What are you two doing here, then?"  He looked at Diasa.  "I don't believe that you're a guard."  Then he turned to T'Sian.  "And I don't know
what
you're supposed to be."

"Pray you do not find out," T'Sian said.  Diasa made a noise that she took to be a warning, but she ignored her companion's displeasure.  "This has gone on long enough," she said.  "Diasa, secure the entrance to the kitchen."

"What?"

"Keep anyone from leaving."  T'Sian grabbed the fat man by the shirt and hauled him close.  His eyes widened in shock; the nearby kitchen staff stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at this marvel.  Cursing, Diasa ran for the doorway, drawing her sword.  T'Sian was not sure if she got there in time to keep everyone in the kitchen; nor did she care.  "Listen, man," she hissed to the wide-eyed cook, "we are here to see Qalor.  We want to go to the place where he performs his work.  You say this so-called dumbwaiter goes there?"

"Yes," the man said, his once haughty voice reduced to a most satisfying squeak.

"T'Sian!" Diasa cried.  "There's more than one door!"

She was right; the kitchen workers had begun to flee, pushing and shoving each other as they escaped through a narrow opening half-hidden behind a stack of casks.  They would no doubt alert the soldiers, who would then come with weapons and armor and try to kill the intruders.  T'Sian did not fear much for her own safety, although it was possible they would harm Diasa with their puny blades.

Did she care if that happened?  She wasn't sure.

She turned back to the fat man and said:  "These places where you make your fires.  They have chimneys?"

"Yes, of course."

"Does Qalor's laboratory share them?"

"I … I think so."

Diasa returned to T'Sian's side, sword sheathed; evidently she had decided it was pointless to guard the front exit when everyone had left through a different one.  "You're completely mad," Diasa said.  "Did you know that?"

"I am not mad," T'Sian said.  "I am a dragon, and I will act like one."  She tossed the pudgy man aside; he crashed into a table, fell to the floor, and scurried away on all fours like a beaten animal.  "Diasa.  Into the dumbwaiter."

"
What?
"

T'Sian picked Diasa up, shoved her into the boxlike space, and wrenched the knob to the left.  The dumbwaiter dropped out of sight, taking its startled-looking passenger with it.  That taken care of, T'Sian turned to the largest hearth, which—if these men had any sense—would have the widest chimney.  She marched straight into the fire, feeling its warmth tickling her skin.  Another opening gaped at its back, beyond a waist-high barrier of stone; T'Sian leaned over the half-wall, peering downward.  The chimney looked more than large enough to accommodate her body; the alchemist's nefarious experiments no doubt required copious ventilation.