Dragonoak (16 page)

“Alright, Felheim!” someone called out, “Was wondering where
you'd got yourself to!”

They
didn't care. Or they did care, but only in a way that made their
night brighter. No one stopped me, no one jumped in front of me or
tried to drag me away; how much easier the last month would've
been, had I trusted them enough in the first place.

It wasn't difficult to find a pane, even in a town as busy as
Mahon. Kouris was sat outside
Siren
Song
, surrounded by a flock of pirates I
didn't recognise, but who certainly seemed to know her. They caught
sight of me before she did, and faced with their raised brows and
wide-eyes, Kouris glanced over her shoulder.

She
grinned wider than anyone else had, and not because I was a
necromancer. Because I'd finally managed to drag myself out of the
hut.

“Alright, Varn,” she said, smirking over my shoulder. “What's
managed to bring you back here?”

“Nothing,” Varn grumbled, arms folded across her chest. “...
business.”

“Aye,
I'm sure,” Kouris said, more than familiar with Varn's attitude. “I
take it you're Atalanta, then?”

Atalanta
had already rushed over to shake Kouris' hand, and with a bow of
her head she said, “I'm terribly glad I have this chance to meet
you, dragon-born, even if I can't stay for more than mere minutes.
Do allow me to buy you a drink the next time we happen to be in the
same port.”

“Not
about to turn down a free drink. You picked a good one there,
Varn,” Kouris said, and turned to me. “What's going on,
yrval?”

Tugging
on her sleeve was enough to get her to rise to her feet, and Kouris
followed me over to a quiet corner. All eyes were still on me, but
at least no one could overhear us.

“Atalanta and Varn came to find me. The
Queen
wants to meet me. I've no idea
how she knows what I am, but I've got to go,” I said, words rushing
out of me. “I can ask for her help, Kouris. Even if it doesn't
work, even if she won't help us, I
have
to try. It's the best chance
we've had so far and I can't waste it.”

Ears
twitching, Kouris said, “Alright, yrval. Let's be off.”

“I think
I need to do this myself!” I said, wincing. I didn't want Kouris
thinking that I wished to be without her, but I'd spent so long
relying on her, on the others. It was finally my turn to do
something for them. “It'll be fine. Atalanta said I don't have to
be gone for more than a week, and Varn seems... well, you know
Varn, don't you? So it'll be okay. I'll go to Chandaran and talk to
the Queen, and I really think—”

“Yrval,”
Kouris said, gently cutting off my ramblings. “It's alright. You
can do this.”

I bit
down on my lower lip, grinning because she was, and when she opened
her arms, I barely hesitated. I wrapped my arms as far as they'd go
around her, holding her as tightly as she held me, and leant back
enough to place both hands on her face. Tilting me back, she
pressed her lips against mine, tusks brushing against my cheeks. I
laughed through my nose and she eased herself back, reluctant to
let me go, but doing so anyway.

“Go on.
Go have a word with that Queen for us,” Kouris said, shooting Varn
a look that made her hold up her hands defensively.

Back at
the carriage, Varn hoisted herself into the back, falling down on
one of the padded benches. I sat opposite her, preparing myself for
the jostle of the road. It'd been a long time since I'd gone
anywhere that couldn't be reached by boat, and I worried that I'd
traded away sea-sickness for another sort of discomfort.

Atalanta
took the reins and guided us out of Mahon, and I felt every loose
pebble and bump the wheels rolled over. Eyes closed, I told myself
that it couldn't be as bad as being on a ship during a storm, that
I'd spent most of my old life on roads like these, and my stomach
just about managed to settle. I caught a glimpse of Mahon as it
vanished, and the sea became nothing more than a dark strip below
the horizon.

“What's
with Kouris?” Varn asked. “She your girlfriend?”

“What?
Kouris? No,” I said, tilting my head towards Atalanta. “Is she
yours?”

Arms
folded across her chest, Varn leant towards me and said, “Yeah?
What of it?”

Eyebrow
raised, Atalanta glanced back and said, “Aren't I
lucky?”

Canth
was a flat, arid land. Ancient mountains had begun their descent
back to the ground and the few trees that survived the onslaught of
the sun twisted up towards the sky, branches bare. Villages cropped
up around scattered oases, but it wasn't until the river Qart came
into sight that I began to see cities and towns. The river was wide
and fast-flowing, bridges cutting across it every five or ten
miles, and square, sun-baked houses were interspersed with patches
of green. It was the only place vegetation would grow, this far
from the jungles lining the coast, leaving the rest of the country
deserted.

We took
the fast route, not the scenic one. We rarely came within a quarter
of a mile of the river, only stopping in order to take an inn for
the night. I was resistant to the idea, at first, but Varn hooked
an arm around mine, giving me no alternative. The innkeepers were
happy to give a room to those in Queen Nasrin's service, and looked
at me warily until one of them explained what I was.

I wasn't told to leave. The innkeepers clasped my hands and
insisted –
insisted –
that we take our rooms for free. Varn and Atalanta would sit
on their side of the tavern table, talking endlessly, Varn allowing
herself to smile whenever she forgot I was there, but my thoughts
wandered and I made for poor company. I touched little of my food,
and when it came to sleep, found I had no more luck doing so in a
bed than I had on the road.

I found
myself climbing from my room's window, and spent the nights sitting
with Musashi and Fiennes.

On the way to Chandaran, I discovered that moving forward was
something entirely distinct from bravery. I was doing what I knew I
had to, and I was terrified. Had the carriage's wheels not rolled
across the dry ground, I never would've gathered the strength to
walk of my own volition. It wasn't the thought of what awaited me
that scared me so; I had met with Queens before. I had
kissed
a Queen, short
days ago. Had I stayed in Mahon, entirely motionless, I would've
been no less scared.

“What's she like?” I asked Atalanta, sat beside her in the
box-seat. “Your Queen, that is. If I'm going to meet her, I should
probably know
something
about her.”

“Why, Her Majesty is all that a Queen ought to be. Merciful
and just, as powerful as she is beautiful, and – of course –
endlessly wise,” Atalanta replied playfully. “Her Majesty is a good
woman, Rowan. She's the first ruler in
centuries
to think of Canth before
her own comfort. Her family has sat on the throne for eight
generations, each one hoarding more and more wealth within the
palace, going further and further to ignore Canth's
plights.

"The country, unfortunately, isn't fond of having a Queen. I
feel that half the citizens would prefer an infant to sit on the
throne, could they call him their King. When I was six, I told my
father that I was indeed a girl, and that I was to be called
Atalanta, from that point on. And do you know what he said?
He turned to my brother, laughed, and said
Thank the gods she figured that out. We coulda
had a traitor in our midst.
Terrible man,
but hardly extraordinarily so.

“Still, the palace used to have ceilings of
gold
. Can you believe
that? Her first act as Queen was to have them stripped away, melted
down, and used to aid cities at the mercy of a famine.”

That was
something. If she was willing to break down her own palace to help
her subjects, then perhaps she'd be willing to help me, if it meant
healing the masses.

“How
long have you worked for her?”

“Five
years. From the day of her coronation,” Atalanta said, holding the
reins out and encouraging me to take them with a smile. “I have
known her for a lot longer, however. Twenty years, I believe. Ever
since she was sixteen. Prior to serving her, I was a bounty hunter,
often contracted by her father.”

Loyalty,
then, was nothing new to her. I gripped the reins, finding it
easier to relax with a task to focus on.

“What
about Varn?” I asked, still marvelling at her ability to fall
asleep whenever and wherever she chose.

“Varn
has been with us for two years. I was sent to investigate what
turned out to be a minor incident in Port Mahon, and had the
pleasure of meeting her,” Atalanta said, glancing back at her. “I
returned several times, of my own choosing. Somehow, Varn found it
within herself to leave her ship and her crew behind. I hear the
pirates still aren't terribly pleased by it.”

“They're
kind of bitter,” I said, remembering Reis' words. “But I think
they're still too scared of her to do anything about
it.”

“Rightly
so,” Atalanta agreed.

Chandaran came into view early that afternoon. It was
situated alongside the Qart, where the river was so wide that boats
headed back and forth across it. At a guess, Chandaran was half the
size of Isin, though it covered almost as much land; the buildings
were low, rarely more than two stories high each, all of them the
colour of sand. I'd accepted the fact that not every settlement
could be as colourful as Mahon, and as we headed through the grid
of streets, I felt excitement growing within me.

The
sight of people going about their daily business, dragging goats to
market or fetching water from the wells that dotted the streets,
mingled with the smell of spices sold on the back of carts, and all
the sounds that rose into the air became part of the background. I
wish I'd taken more of it in, but there was only one thing on my
mind: the palace.

People
stared at me, but I no longer cared to indulge my unfounded fears.
I was there. I'd made it.

Like
everything else in Chandaran, the palace was a low building, all of
it on one level, save the four towers on the corners. A plain,
dreary looking fence circled the perimeter, patrolled by a handful
of guards. Even if Queen Nasrin was eager to donate what she could
to her people, she couldn't compromise her own safety.

The
gates were opened at the sight of Varn and Atalanta, guards
snapping salutes as we rolled by, and Musashi and Fiennes guided us
through the large, unattended gardens. Fountains and ponds had been
left to dry up and stubborn weeds twisted into the cracked
stonework.

Inside,
it wasn't much different. The guards at the front doors of the
palace were left to attend to Musashi and Fiennes, and Atalanta led
me through the bare, dim corridors. As we headed through the
palace, I didn't see a single portrait lining the walls, though the
stone was discoloured where frames had once hung. The carpets that
remained were threadbare and hardly any better than the stone
floors, and not a single torch was lit where it didn't need to be;
nor were there any ornaments lining cabinets that were no longer
there.

“Her
Majesty is busy,” a guard stationed outside of an unremarkable door
said.

“Her
Majesty will be busy kicking your head in if she knows you wasted
our time,” Varn said, catching up to us. Half a second later and
the guard was stepping to the side, clearing his throat. He glanced
over and saw me for what I was, and instead of looking upon me with
awe, something between respect and apprehension mingled in his
expression.

Having
bigger things to worry about, I ignored it.

Atalanta
held the door open for me and I stepped in, followed by the pair of
them. The room was nothing short of cluttered. Bookcases lined the
walls, broken up by windows letting in a stifling breeze, and in
the centre of the room, a low table was covered in what looked like
a year's worth of letters and scrolls. A chaise lounge ran behind
it, occupied by a striking looking woman in a bright orange
sari.

She was
incredibly lean, with braided hair trailing down to the feet tucked
up beneath her, and she bowed forward, glued to the letter she was
writing.

“I'm busy,” she stated flatly, not looking up until she'd
finished reading the sentence we'd caught her in the middle of. Her
stern expression faded at the sight of me, skin and eyes
unmistakable, and she broke out into a smile. “Ah. So there
was
a necromancer to be
found. Welcome, welcome. Do excuse the mess, won't you.”

Queen
Nasrin's pleasant greeting helped me to relax, but my jaw was fused
shut. Where did I start? What should I say? Would it be better if I
made my intentions clear immediately, so that she didn't feel as
though she'd been misled?

Seeing
me struggle for something to say, Varn took it upon herself to
introduce me.

“This is
Rowan of the Northern Woods,” she said.