Hatch (The Dragons Of Laton) (40 page)

“Thank you, Ammon!” Without another word the big man set him down and turned to busy himself stoking the furnaces.

Ammon chuckled as he and Fulgid walked to the door. “You’re welcome, Derek. I’m glad the eggs are ok.” When he got back to the courtyard, Theo and most of the other dragons were waiting while a few still circled overhead.

Stalwart had come back out of the hold and was talking with Theo. “I’ve never seen so many at once! Strange beasts, they literally threw themselves into the flames by the hundreds!”

Ammon looked over the blackened and smoldering courtyard. “It was all a diversion. They were after the eggs.”

Theo looked up at the scorch marks Ebony left on the side of the palace. “I would never have thought them to be a cunning creature, but to sacrifice hundreds for just a few dozen eggs? For what purpose?”

Stalwart snorted in disgust. “To end a dragons life before it can begin! They will do anything to kill a dragon, especially the eggs. If it weren’t for dragons, the Kala-Azar would be unstoppable. A few years ago they wiped out an entire village to get to a single egg. We have been defenseless against them for fifty years, and keeping the dragon population up has been a challenge. Two or three dragons in one place for very long will draw them out within a few days. So as soon as the eggs are laid, we separated them and disperse them over a large area in hopes that some of them will live to adulthood.”

Theo whistled softly. “It’s amazing any lived at all! It seems as if they can pass through walls without being seen. I don’t know how so many could sneak up on us so easily when guards are posted on the walls and buildings surrounding the palace. I’d understand one or two escaping detection, but hundreds upon hundreds?”

Stalwart nodded. “Most of the time you don’t know they are there until they’re upon you. Still, I’ve never seen so many at once, and it’s likely we’d all be dead if our new king here hadn’t raised the alarm.” He peered curiously at Ammon. “Pardon me for asking, sire, but how did you know? We were all inside the Hall. You couldn’t have seen them coming, and I was sitting in the front row near you, and your…uh…queen, so if anyone had come in to notify you, I’d have seen them!”

Ammon laughed nervously. “Queen? Oh she’s not the queen, that’s El, Sasha’s granddaughter.”

Stalwart looked at Ammon for a long moment with sympathy in his eyes. “Pardon me again, sire, but perhaps you don’t understand what happened in the Hall today?” Ammon looked at him blankly and he sighed. “I was afraid as much. I suspect there are many differences between our lands. Perhaps I can explain. Tell me, who owns the palace in
Gaul?”

Ammon frowned. “The king.”

Stalwart nodded. “And who owned it before the king did?”

Ammon and Theo exchanged looks and Theo rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “It has always belonged to the king as part of the throne. Whoever holds the crown takes possession of it.”

Stalwart tapped his temple with a thick finger. “That makes sense if you rule a small place like Gaul, but in a large nation like DoTaria it’s a bit different. We call the throne The Seat of Power, and by law it is located in the palace of the largest city, making it the Place of Power. Occasionally that location changes as populations move from one place to another and the royal family owns a palace in each city. The last change is what caused the rift between the Houses.

Centuries ago this city was nothing more than a small mining operation owned entirely by the House of Celest. When a large deposit of calentar was found, the population grew, and Laton quickly became the largest city in all of DoTaria, which elevated the House of Celest to the most powerful of all the Houses. Because Laton was originally just a mining town, there was never a royal palace, and when it was announced that the Seat was moving to Laton, the House of Celest objected. They were willing to accept the throne, but they refused to give up the only thing they owned, the very land the city was built on. Without the land that was their birthright, their House would be dissolved to nothing. I suppose if they had owned land elsewhere like most Houses do, none of this would have happened.”

Confused, Ammon began to rub his temples. Politics always gave him a headache. “So why didn’t the Seat just use part of the palace and leave the rest to the House of Celest?”

Stalwart shrugged. “Because the law states that the Seat and the Place of Power must be one. There can be no division, it must be whole ownership, otherwise whoever owns the Place of Power could have too much influence on the Seat. The debate went on for years before the smaller Houses began to take sides. Each side demanding either Celest surrender their birthright, or the royal family surrender the throne to Celest.

The deep division might have led to war if the Kala-Azar hadn’t suddenly become such a problem. Even after all this time there are still feelings of doubt as to the validity of either side as ruler.”

Ammon felt as if his head was spinning. “Okay, but what does all that have to do with me?”

Stalwart flinched uncomfortably. “The merger Sasha proposed and accepted by the Hall combined the two Houses into one, effectively ending the dispute. Now the Seat rules at the Place of Power.”

Ammon looked over at Theo. “Do you understand what he’s saying?” Theo shook his head.

Stalwart grimaced uncomfortably before continuing. “The Hall has the ability to merge a House with another…in this case by marriage…if it decides it is for the greater good of the kingdom.”

Ammon felt his jaw drop. The man couldn’t be serious! “Are you telling me the Hall just…married me…to someone?”

Stalwart nodded. “Yes sire, I’m afraid so. You will be required by the Hall to merge the head of your House to the head of the House of Celest.”

Ammon felt the heat rising into his face. “And who would that be may I ask?”

Stalwart looked away from Ammon to stare uncomfortably at the ground. “Uh…well sire, the head of the House of Celest would be the Lady Sasha.”

***

Sasha slowly returned to her chambers from the Hold. It was strange that the attack of the Kala-Azar seemed almost planned. It definitely was not typical of the unorganized and random attacks in the past. She fervently hoped it was mere coincidence.

She pushed the heavy wooden door of her chambers open and entered the sitting room where a small pot of water steamed over the fireplace. A cup of tea would be welcome after such a stressful day. She lifted a poker and stirred the dying coals in the hearth. Her ancient ears barely heard the soft footsteps behind her and she turned to admonish El for trying to sneak past her again.

“I specifically instructed you to…gahh! No! No! It isn’t possible! It cannot be you! NO…! Please NO!”

The wrought iron poker slipped from her grasp and fell noisily to the floor, unheard by anyone else in the palace.

***

Ammon was furious as he stormed into his chambers. How dare that crazy old woman do this to him! How dare this bloody Hall agree to it! Of what use was the power he possessed as king if he couldn’t even decide who he married? Fulgid scurried past into the sitting room just as Ammon slammed the door behind him with a satisfying crash. If he knew how, he would immediately call another Gathering and renounce the throne and everything that comes with it. In fact, if Sasha had been there, he’d gladly have handed it to her and be done with it. Forced marriage was wrong, but being married to that crusty old pile of rags was more than he could handle.

He unbuckled his belt and tossed his sword onto the polished desk and sulked into the bedchambers. Fulgid walked beside him and suddenly stopped in mid step to stare at the balcony curtains. His ears swiveled and his head twisted to look at Ammon and then back at the balcony. Ammon carefully drew the curtains back to reveal El standing there, her tear streaked face was red and her eyes puffy.

With a snort, he walked back into the room and dropped into a chair and propped his feet up on a table. “What do you want?”

El sniffled, dabbing at her eyes with a small lace handkerchief. “I’m sorry Ammon! I wasn’t…I didn’t know! I mean, I knew she was up to something, but I didn’t know what! Honestly, I had no idea! I can’t believe she’s done this to you!”

Ammon rubbed his temples with his fingers. “I nevered want to be king, but they forced me into becoming one. As if that wasn’t bad enough, now they’re marrying me off to a crotchety old woman old enough to be my grandmother! You know what, El? All I ever wanted was to live a quiet, peaceful life farming. When Erik said my life was no longer my own, I didn’t fully understand what he meant until now. Married! Pah!”

El gingerly sat on the edge of the table by Ammon’s feet. Her voice was so soft it was barely audible. “I’m sorry. I wish it were…I wish I could change it for you, but I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Ammon closed his eyes and swallowed. A hard lump formed in his throat. “You can’t, El. It’s already done. From what Captain Stalwart told me, all that’s left is the ceremony, and I guess the Hall wants that done as soon as possible. Today!” He took a deep breath. “Perhaps it would be best if you go now.”

She sat quietly for a moment, then nodded. Her fingers brushed his hand lightly and then she left without saying another word.

He sat for a long time with his eyes closed, resisting the urge to break something. Any minute now they’d knock on his door and they'd escort him back the Hall where he'd be forced to marry an insane old geezer. Queen Sasha. He ground his teeth. He’d be anything that this was what she had in mind all along! What would happen if he refused? It wouldn’t matter; the merger would happen even if he weren't there.

He didn’t move or answer when the page knocked on the door. After the second knock, the page opened the door slightly and announced the Hall was in session and waiting. With a slow nod, he acknowledged the boy, but sat a bit longer anyway out of spite. Let them wait a few more minutes. Besides, wasn’t being late for your wedding was supposed to be good luck or something? If it was perhaps the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

The door swung open and Boris thumped his way in on crutches. He eased himself down on the edge of the bed and rubbed a knuckle across his thick moustache. “In all my years, I can’t say I’ve ever met anyone who led a life quite like you. There are people who dream of excitement and pursue adventures with all their might, but never really find it. You however, seem to attract it like flies to a manure pit. You know, some people might consider you a very lucky man.”

Ammon snorted and jerked his thumb at the door. “Lucky? Have you seen my bride?”

Boris nodded. “Aye. Well, there is that. Not exactly what you had in mind I’m sure. But perhaps she’s more than what she appears? Let’s hope so. If not you can always hope to go blind…and deaf. Losing your sense of smell probably wouldn't be so bad either.”

He groaned as Boris’ hardened face split in a wide grin. With a weak laugh Ammon spread his arms wide. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to take my place would you Boris?”

The big man’s laughter boomed through the bedchamber. “No, I think not! She’s much too old for my taste, but I’ll tell ya what I will do. Once this ceremony is over, come down to the Hold with me. Mabel cooks almost as well as she can sew, and she’s been pushing food down my gullet since I arrived here. There is enough leftovers to feed even that bottomless pit of a stomach of yours!”

Ammon reluctantly stood up and waited for Boris to get to his feet. “I think I’ll take you up on that invitation Boris. At least for ten, maybe twenty years or so.”