The End of Time (2 page)

Prince Loden tugged at the hem of his embroidered tunic and jutted his chin. “I wish to speak to Umber.”

“Lord Umber is not well,” Balfour said. “Your Highness,” he added dryly. His face, Hap saw, was flushed a dark shade of red.

“What, moping again?” the prince asked with a sigh. “And after I’ve taken the trouble to come all the way up to this dreary rock.” He waited for a reply, but Balfour only stared back. Loden’s eyes narrowed. He seemed poised to rebuke Balfour when he noticed Fay standing nearby. In an instant his features rearranged themselves into an expert simulation of warmth and charm. “And who is
this
?”

“My name is Fay. And this is my niece Sable.”

“Fay,” Loden said, taking her hand and kissing it. “How can it be that you and I have never met before?”

“We only just arrived, after escaping from Sarnica during the revolt,” Fay said. A blush flooded her cheeks.

“Yes, I have just been informed of this uprising,” Loden replied. “A monarch overthrown, I hear.” Loden’s glance darted toward Hap, and Hap felt the fine hairs on the back of his neck quiver like grain in the wind.

“A cruel tyrant, sir,” Fay replied. “And his son. The world will miss neither of those monsters.”

“Aunt Fay was the princess of Sarnica,” Sable chirped. “But she didn’t want to be. Lord Umber and Happenstance saved us!”

Loden bent with his hands on his thighs and smiled broadly at Sable. “Did they really! Still, we mustn’t make a habit of casting down monarchs, don’t you think?” He straightened and chuckled at his own joke, and Larcombe laughed with him. “Of course, I would say that—I am the prince of Kurahaven, and heir to the throne of this magnificent kingdom.”

Bile rose in Hap’s throat when he saw Fay’s head tilt in admiration and heard the gasp of delight from Sable. Fay bowed her head. “Forgive me, Your Highness. I did not know whose presence I was in. I feel so ashamed, dressed in these ragged clothes . . .”

This time Loden took both her hands. “My lady, no apology is necessary. You have my gratitude, in fact. I have spent many days mourning the death of my dear brothers. So my sadness has been as deep as Umber’s, but perhaps easier to understand. Now I find my spirit soaring again, just to look upon your face.”

Fay bit her bottom lip. “I am sorry for your loss, Your Highness.”

Hap glanced at Balfour, who looked ready to vomit.

“You are as kind as you are lovely. But where are you staying while you visit my fair city?” Loden asked her.

It’s not your city yet,
Hap thought bitterly.

“Balfour has arranged for us to stay at an inn,” Fay replied.

“An inn! I won’t allow it,” Loden said. “I’d sooner plant a rosebush in a pigsty. You will come to the palace and stay in the rooms we reserve for visiting royalty.” Sable gasped again, and Loden turned to her. “Would you like that, little princess? The view will take your breath away, as your aunt has taken mine. Do you see my wonderful palace over there, the color of sand, rising above everything else? Do you see the balcony under the great clock tower? That is the porch outside your room!” Sable’s mouth hung open as she stared at the soaring tower.

“Please tell me you’ll stay. I can always command you . . . I am the prince, you know!” Loden grinned and winked at Sable.

“You are kind, Your Highness,” Fay said, looking downward. “But Balfour has—”

“I’m sure my subject Balfour would want you treated like the royalty you are,” Loden said. He took her hand and gently pulled, leading her to his carriage. “Besides, I must hear about this revolt. A prince has to keep informed about such things. Really, I insist you come along, you and your lovely niece.”

Fay shot back a look of regret, and called out as she stepped into the carriage. “Good-bye, Happenstance. Balfour, you will send word as soon as Lord Umber recovers?”

“You can be sure of that,” Balfour said flatly.

“That could be many weeks, unfortunately, if I know Umber,” Loden said, shaking his head. “These bouts of sadness are all too frequent.” He closed the door behind Fay and ambled back to where Balfour and Hap stood. “Tell me, you green-eyed whelp,” he whispered, leaning down. “Does Umber fancy this one?” He smirked as Hap’s eyes watered and his jaw trembled. “I think that answers my question!”

Loden and Larcombe climbed into the carriage, the driver atop cracked his whip, and the white horses pulled the carriage in a tight circle and back down the causeway. Balfour watched it roll away with a hand clamped over his jaw, tapping his cheek with one finger.

“Just think: That wretched sack of goblin droppings will be king one day.”

 
CHAPTER
3

Umber was brooding on the bench under
the tree of many fruits. He lifted his chin an inch and stared at the trio before him. Hap’s heart ached to see the sunken cheeks and the dark crescents under his eyes.

“What?” Umber muttered.

“We’re going on a journey,” Balfour told him.

“Leave me alone.”

“Please, Lord Umber,” Hap said. “Come with us.”

Umber turned his face aside and tucked his hands under his armpits.

“Go ahead, Oates,” Balfour said. “Gently, now.”

Oates seized Umber by the arm, hauled him off the bench, and tossed him across his shoulder. Umber thumped the broad back weakly with his fists. “Put me down, you miserable oaf.”

“Blame Balfour,” Oates said, and he led the way down the stairs, where they stepped onto the lift that would take them to the waiting carriage.

Curious stares followed them as they walked up the plank and onto the deck of the
Bounder
. Captain Sandar watched with a bemused smile as Oates carried Umber through the hatch to the lower deck. Oates came out a moment later, shaking his head. “He said mean things to me.”

“Don’t take it personally,” Balfour began to say, but Oates was suddenly staring at the crowded docks like a fox that had spotted a rabbit. Without a word of explanation, the big fellow raced down the plank, which bounced merrily under every heavy step. Hap saw a figure in the crowd spin and run. A terrible limp slowed his escape, and as Oates closed in, the stranger ducked behind a stack of cargo.

Sophie peered down from the railing with her hand shading her brow. “Who is Oates chasing?”

Oates looked left and right, and then leaned over to peer behind a row of crates. He reached down and pulled a flailing figure up by the collar, and then tossed whomever it was over his shoulder just as he’d carried Umber, but not as gently. When this fellow kicked and punched him, Oates squeezed his midsection, and the struggle ended. Soon Oates was back on the
Bounder
, where he dumped the man rudely onto the deck.

The stranger landed on his stomach, and then turned over, coughing and wheezing. The face was covered with half-healed bruises, and the nose, which once was straight, had been bent to one side, but Hap still recognized the man. He spit the name out like a bug he’d nearly swallowed. “Hameron!”

“Saw him skulking around on the dock, watching us,” Oates said.

Hameron got to his knees, rubbing an elbow, and glared at Oates. “I would have come on board if you’d asked, you beast.”

Balfour grinned down at Umber’s rival. “Hello, Hameron. Umber wondered if you’d made it through the rebellion alive.”

“Barely,” Hameron said, standing up and wincing. “But this leg will never heal right. And look at my nose, my face!” He poked his bent, broken nose. Hap noticed that a third of his teeth were missing.

“Looks like you took a beating,” Balfour said, trying to temper his smile.

“Yes. Because somebody released a bunch of angry prisoners who decided to take their wrath out on me,” Hameron replied, glaring at Hap.

“You’re lucky they didn’t kill you,” Hap replied. It wasn’t his way to talk back to adults, but he couldn’t help himself with Hameron.

“Hmph,” Hameron said. “Well, I lost everything, thanks to you people.”

“And you’re following us for what reason?” Balfour asked. “Revenge?”

“Hardly,” Hameron said. “I’m not the vengeful type. But I am destitute, and it’s all Umber’s fault. It’s compensation I want.”

“Compensation?”
Balfour looked at Oates, and they both roared with laughter.

Hameron puffed out his chest and crossed his arms. “Restitution for my losses. And my suffering! It’s only fair. Those were
my
dragon eggs that Umber stole. And I had to escape from Sarnica with nothing but the clothes on my back and the coins in my pocket.”

Balfour bent with laughter, and finally wiped the tears from his eyes and collected himself. “Oh, you are an amusing fellow, Hameron. Compensation, ha-ha!”

Hameron’s mouth cinched tight and his face turned purple. “I demand to speak to Umber. And speaking of which . . . why did this great buffoon carry Umber onto the ship?”

Balfour shook his head and chuckled again. “Oh, you’ll speak to Umber eventually. Not yet, though. But I think we may have something in the way of compensation for you, Hameron.”

Hameron raised an eyebrow and waited.

“See, you’re going on a journey with us,” Balfour told him, thumbing toward the sea. “And if you help us do something, Umber might see fit to reward you. How much of a reward will be up to him, but you know he’s a generous soul.”

“Help you do
what
?” Hameron’s eye narrowed to a squint.

“Ah—this is why your appearance is so timely,” Balfour replied. “You’re just the man to help us take the dragon eggs back where they belong. Since you’re the one who stole them in the first place.”

Hameron’s jaw dropped like a trapdoor. “Take them
back
? Tell me you’re not that crazy!”

“We truly are,” Oates said, shaking his head.

“That is more dangerous than you can imagine,” Hameron said, backing away. “Sorry, Balfour. You can leave me out.” He turned to limp down the plank. But after a nod from Balfour, Oates’s meaty hand clamped down on his shoulder. Hameron shrieked.

“Lock him up till we’re at sea, Oates,” Balfour said. He tapped his fingertips together. “You know something, Hap? I think I’m getting the hang of this adventuring stuff.”

The sea billowed with long, rolling waves, so that the
Bounder
was rarely level. She rose up one watery slope, burst through its foaming crest, and plunged down the other side.

Sophie nudged Hap with her elbow and pointed to the starboard railing, where Hameron leaned over, sending a jet of half-digested food into the green sea. He turned toward them, sweaty and pale-faced, and wiped the corner of his mouth with his sleeve. “I
despise
ocean travel,” he said. A deep, wet hiccup followed, and he leaned over the rail once more.

Sophie turned away to hide her smile. “Come on, Hap. Let’s go see Jewel,” she said. They fetched a pair of fish from the galley and went down to the hold, at the bottom of the ship. The steps ended at the carpenter’s walk: the aisle that ran the length of the ship and was used to find and repair any leaks that sprang up during a journey.

The vessel was alive with conducted noise and vibration. There were groaning beams and planks, dim steps and voices of sailors above, and the muffled rush of water washing past the hull. It occurred to Hap that they were standing below the waterline, inside a bubble of wood.
Don’t think about that,
he ordered himself.

The carpenter’s walk divided the hold, where barrels of food, fresh water, rum, and beer were stacked high. Plenty of storage space remained, since this was a merchant ship, but this journey was not for commerce. Their primary cargo was a small chest filled with crystalline dragon eggs, and a cage with an infant dragon that was small but growing fast.

“Hello, Jewel,” Hap said, as he and Sophie sat beside the cage, next to where the thick main mast was rooted at the bottom of the ship.

The dragon had been sleeping with her head resting on her scaled legs. She lifted her face and opened her sapphire eyes. The long mouth cracked wide, and she squeaked out a yawn. The copper-colored scales shimmered as she stretched her limbs. Her tiny wings fanned out, experimented with a single tentative flap, and folded tight against her back once more.

“Jewel is such a perfect name,” Sophie said. “Did you or Umber give it to her?”

“It was Sable’s idea,” Hap said. Sophie’s head dropped, and she seemed to shrink beside him. Hap frowned, wondering what the problem was this time. All he’d done was answer the question. “Here, Sophie, give Jewel the fish,” he said. “I think she likes you better, anyway.”

That night Hap was summoned to the main deck, where he found a small group waiting: Balfour, Oates, Sophie, Captain Sandar, and Hameron. Hameron was partially recovered from his seasickness, but he still clung to a stay with a handkerchief pressed to his mouth.

Balfour nodded at them. “Follow me, please. Umber should hear this discussion.” He led them to a cabin at the front of the ship, knocked twice, and opened the door.

They crowded into the room, with Oates pushing Hameron ahead of him. Umber was slumped on a chair with his chin on his chest. His eyes rolled up to look at his visitors, and then down again as if the effort was too great to sustain. “Told you I wanted to be left alone,” he mumbled.

“My apologies, Umber,” Balfour said. “But we need to figure out exactly how we’re going to return these eggs.”

Umber just shrugged. Hameron gave him a sour look. “What’s the matter with him?”

“Put off by your presence, perhaps,” Balfour said.

Hameron sneered and turned to Oates. “What’s the matter with Umber, Oates?”

“He falls into these moods, and we never know when he’ll come out,” Oates replied.

Hameron dabbed at a corner of his mouth with the handkerchief. “Always knew there was something nutty about him.”

Balfour cleared his throat loudly. “You all know why we’re on this journey.”

“To suffer a brutal, fiery death,” Hameron muttered.

“That’s enough of that,” Sandar snapped. He stepped so close to Hameron that their noses nearly touched. “You will respect my passengers, and you will say nothing more against Lord Umber, Hameron. It’s a long swim home if you don’t.”

Balfour twiddled his thumbs and looked sideways at Hameron. “Our mission is to return the eggs and the infant dragon to the land where they belong. Hameron, you were the one who found them. If you’re so concerned for our safety, maybe you could advise us on how to pull this off.”

Hameron crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. “You ruined my life, all of you. And kidnapped me for this journey, against my will. Why should I help you?”

“This ship is going to the dragon’s lair, Hameron, with you on it. So you’ll be saving your own skin, too, mind you,” Balfour told him. “And I think you can expect some reward for your help. It was compensation you were after, wasn’t it?”

Hameron’s jaw worked from side to side. “How
much
compensation?”

“That will be up to Umber. Enough to put you back on your feet, though, I imagine.”

“My weight in gold,” Hameron said.

“I beg your pardon?” Balfour replied.

“That’s what I demand. I’ll tell you how to safely return the dragon eggs. But I want my weight in gold in return.”

“Preposterous,” Balfour began, but he was interrupted by a weak, emotionless voice.

“He can have it,” Umber muttered.

“Umber, really,” Balfour whined.

“I don’t care,” Umber said. His eyes were shut, and he rubbed at one lid with his fingertips. “Anything to get this over with. Just do what he says. And get out of my cabin, all of you.” He stepped out of the chair, never straightening, and flopped onto his bed, facedown.

Hameron smirked at Balfour. “You heard him, old man. Do what I say. This is my expedition now.” He turned to Sandar. “You have a map of Chastor, I presume? Fetch it for me like a good captain. We should leave dear Umber to marinate in his despair, and gather at the dining table. Suddenly I’m feeling quite hungry.”

Hap lingered for a moment after the others filed out. “I hope you feel better soon, Lord Umber.”

Umber never looked up.

The others were at the table, gathered around the map that Sandar unrolled. Hameron’s lip curled as he looked at it. “This is the best map you’ve got?”

Sandar glared. “The land is full of dragons. Mapmakers tend to avoid it, like everyone else.”

“Ugh,” Hameron said. “My chart was better. But I guess this will do.” His fingernail rasped across the parchment and stopped. “Here. See that notch in the coast? It’s like a bite taken from the land. That little crescent is where the dragons have their nests. It’s easy enough to spot if the mists aren’t too thick. There’s a sharp point of rock that juts out of the sea a few hundred yards from the shore. I call it Hameron’s Needle.” Hap looked at Balfour, who watched with his nostrils flared wide.