Dragonlinks (2 page)

She hurriedly changed her clothes under Jeme's watchful eye. The elderly chambermaid was regretting her duplicity. Downstairs the count's telling of the folktale was already gathering momentum and eliciting much merriment.

Jelindel smiled inwardly. Encouraged by his early success, her papa's tale could last an extra ten minutes. The dance, depending on the antics of the participants, another twenty minutes. She could spare no more than thirty minutes then before returning to the dining hall. It was considered extremely ill-mannered to depart from one's own family banquet.

Jeme was deep in thought. She loved Jelindel like a daughter, but nobody really understood her. In some ways she was like a boy, full of energy and ready to take on any physical challenge. She roamed the rooftops of the mansion, explored the spaces within the ceilings and wriggled into the chimneys. She crawled within the spaces between the wall panels of her father's study, listening in on conversations that foreign kings would have cheerfully killed to learn of, then lurked in the shadows of the basements, listening to carters complain about long hours, heavy loads and lazy horses as they delivered their sacks and barrels to the Mediesar household. Within the boundaries of the mansion's outer walls she could go anywhere unseen and learn any secrets that she wished.

This was not the sort of lifestyle that a daughter of the Skelt nobility was generally allowed to follow, but Jelindel knew this too and was careful with whom she shared her knowledge. Everyone knew a bit, but nobody knew everything. To her family and the servants, Jelindel was just a boisterous girl who occasionally did things that were not entirely suitable for a female child of the nobility. It was perhaps because of this uniqueness that Jelindel had many friends.

There was yet another side to Jelindel, however. She travelled. She learned about the world by reading all the books in her father's library, and even learning some of the languages used in faraway lands. She stole into the rooms of her brothers and borrowed the books that they were supposed to be studying, even Lutiar's treasured books of the arcane; she did the same with official papers left lying about in her father's study. She read the accounting books that her mother used to run the household, and even
corrected mistakes in her arithmetic. Best of all, she studied books on the heavens, then spent nights lying on the roof slates of the Mediesar mansion and its outbuildings and studying the motions of moons and the patterns of stars. There was no book in the house that she had not read at least twice.

Although Jelindel never ventured alone beyond the garden walls, she travelled further and saw more than any merchant who sailed the seas yet never looked beyond ships' cabins, warehouses, wharves and inns.

All day between chores Jelindel had gazed through the window at the patches of blue sky, imploring the family gods to keep the clouds away, and now at sunset the clouds were retreating over the horizon.

Tonight was not only the lunar eclipse of Reculemoon, it was one of the few nights of the year when the other two moons would be absent from the sky. Even the glimmers of the faintest stars would be visible against the black vault of space. Jelindel was desperate to be outside to see the whole of the night sky for the few minutes of its full glory.

If Jelindel thought the day both hectic and frustrating, Jeme found it no better. As dusk spread its mantle over the port city of D'loom, Jeme was doubting her own actions. She would now have done anything to dissuade Jelindel from going outside.

She began telling the fourteen-year-old how dangerous it was on the stables' roof, never suspecting that Jelindel would be far safer than anyone else in the mansion.

‘You'll take care out there?' she kept repeating hopefully in her peevish, worrying voice. ‘Just over to the lowest of the stables' rooftops, mind, and no further than the outer wall.'

‘I love you and I worry about you too,' Jelindel wheedled, ‘but do not worry, I have been out there dozens of times on dark nights. And thank you for the opportunity, dear Jeme. I knew you would rescue me.'

‘Hush, child. Last time you nearly got caught by guards.'

‘And that is why I am dressing as a stable boy this time, instead of just wearing a dark cloak. Now
please
, Jeme, just give me the breeches. The sky is clear and the eclipse is only minutes away. I don't want to miss a single moment!'

Jeme handed Jelindel a bundle of rough-spun clothes, holding it at arm's length by two fingers.

‘I washed 'em three times but they still smell of horses and stables,' she warned. ‘Stables especially. Horrid smelly things from horrid smelly men.'

Jelindel wrinkled her nose as she held up the patched brown breeches, then gritted her teeth and pulled them on.

‘It smells as if these have not been washed in a lifetime,' she said as she drew a stained cotton tunic over her head.

‘Until yesterday they hadn't,' said Jeme. ‘At least you both look and smell the part of a stable boy.'

Jelindel sat back in her favourite reading chair and pulled on a pair of tattered boots.

‘Now the chair will smell too,' wailed Jeme.

‘The boots are too big,' Jelindel retorted.

‘'Tis why I gave you two pairs of woollen socks. Now mind to lace the boots tightly – and don't scuff them; they're Lutiar's and he thinks they're away being oiled.'

‘Lutiar's a pig. I should return them full of horse dung.'

‘Don't talk like that about your brother!'

‘Why not? He poisoned my rainbow fish last week. And poor Papa. Did you see his face when Lutiar arrived with his horrible friends? Had it not been for Merinda's sake, Papa would have banished him from the dining hall. I am sure of that!'

‘Your brother is a worry,' Jeme admitted. ‘It's a boy thing, I am sure. He will grow out of it.' She sighed. ‘It is the wild company he keeps that holds him back.'

Jelindel buttoned her tunic and presented herself to Jeme.

Jeme stood back more from the smell than to admire Jelindel's new persona. ‘Oh, Jelindel, just look at you! Little white hands and face against all that dirty brown roughweave. You look like a shabby little barn owl.'

‘You're right,' Jelindel said, regarding herself in a mirror. ‘All this disguise yet my hands are as white as milk.' She went to the garb rack and selected a pair of fine leather gloves from a hook. ‘These will pass for dirty hands,' she declared.

She slung a bran bag over her shoulder, then stood before Jeme with her hands behind her back.

‘How do I look?' she asked, chin up and grinning broadly.

‘Like you're a grubby street urchin who's just stolen a sugar fig and is proud of it.'

‘As long as I look like a stable boy watching the eclipse from the roof, then I don't care.'

‘Well, pull that cap down further or someone will see that you have long hair pinned up in a bun. Why don't you forget all this nonsense? Stay within and read one of your father's nice books about the heavens.'

‘I've read them all! I know them better than he does.'

‘As it is he'll have a fit if he sees what you've done to yourself. He might even invite all the guests outside to the gardens to watch the eclipse.'

‘Knowing Papa he would rather be in his study, drinking plum wine and writing his next speech denouncing the Preceptor. Do you think I would dress like this if Papa was willing to spend ten minutes in the garden with his own daughter?'

‘All this fuss to watch a moon go dark.'

‘It's actually to see the stars grow brighter,' Jelindel sighed. ‘Papa's charts and almanacs are filled with stars that are normally drowned by moonlight, Jeme. One of the three moons is almost always in the night sky, but not tonight.'

Jelindel posed before the mirror again. ‘Besides, I think I look quite smart in a rakish sort of way. It could become a new fashion mode.'

Jeme eyed the girl's door dubiously.

‘What can I tell your mama if she comes looking for you?'

‘Mama rarely comes looking for me, Jeme. Why would she do so now?'

‘'Tis the way the world works,' Jeme said despondently. ‘Now there's one more thing you need, Jelindel.'

Jeme held a handybelt out to her. ‘Strap it on tightly. There are a few coppers in the pouch and a knife at the side. Just don't touch the knife. The stablehands use the cursed things for everything from scraping horses' hooves to cutting cheese for lunch.'

Jelindel pulled back. ‘Erk. Has it been washed?'

‘Not since the day it was forged.'

‘Do I really need it?'

The kindermaid shrugged. ‘I know it's only a detail, but “perfection is measured in tiny details”, or so say the sages. Be wary, Little Owl, and attend your stars quickly. I'm wanting to be back in my own bed, pretending to be none but myself.'

Jelindel snuffed her bedchamber lamp and climbed out through the window, closing the shutters behind her. Cautiously, she worked her way down the ivy to the garden bed. There were guard dogs on the prowl, of course, but they knew her scent … or did they? She was wearing a stable boy's reeking clothes!

For a single moment Jelindel stood petrified among the shrubs, trying to decide whether to scrabble back up the ivy or sneak across to the stables before the dogs noticed her. If they barked, her father would punish her; if they mistook her for a stable boy lurking near the mansion she was dead.

There was a soft push at her back. Jelindel gasped but the dog simply snuffled and whined softly. She tentatively patted the coarse, short hair of the bullhound's head. Satisfied that she had a right to be there, it loped away over the sheep-cropped lawn, leaving little blots of fading blackness on the moonlit grass where its paws touched.

Jelindel strode quickly over to the stables and quietly climbed the wall before any more dogs came over to investigate. The next one might bark first and sniff later.

Reculemoon was all but eclipsed as she took a leather-bound sheaf of star charts and a tiny flask of wormglow from her bag. As the last of the light faded from the sky the city itself seemed to become hushed as well; then the constellations of stars blazed out from the black sky.

The fantail of the bird of paradise was near the zenith,
while Delotia the Huntress was half above the horizon, her hair in breaking waves of fine stars.

Jelindel had only a handful of seconds to marvel at the celestial masterpiece before a sharp yelp of alarm pierced the night's silence and made her sit bolt upright. She looked about for the source of the noise but the entire city was shrouded in the dark veil of the eclipse.

A dog? The dogs only bark for a good reason, she thought, as she glanced across to the tall house where two windows showed lights. Why only a single yelp? If they had caught a real intruder there would be barking and growling and the screams of someone being torn apart. All was quiet now, so whatever it was, it was not important.

Jelindel turned back to the sky, greedily sweeping her eyes over the glorious spectacle. This sight was worth any punishment, any discomfort, she thought; then her lips whispered dreamily: ‘This is true freedom and absolute beauty. I want this to last forever.'

A shriek echoed out from the mansion, shattering the hushed darkness of the eclipse. It was a cry of complete terror, and from a woman's throat. Immediately, clashing weapons began an irregular, discordant chime.

Jelindel stood up on the wooden shingles, realising that something terrible was happening but scarcely able to believe it. There were more screams, and cries of pain that were cut short. The thief-bell began to ring, then the entire ground floor of the mansion burst into flames as if it had been soaked in lamp oil.

Jelindel froze. Panic hovered just above her, then descended and paralysed her limbs. Her heart hammered urgently, but she was unable even to cry out.

Something monstrous was happening, something so terrible that it was beyond her understanding. There was one final scream and the bell stopped ringing. Now she clambered shakily down off the stable roof and in among the bushes of the garden. As she pushed her way through some greenberry shrubs, dark figures began leaping from windows. Their forms were lithe shadows outlined by the hungry flames.

Through sheer instinct rather than terror, Jelindel crouched and remained still. She counted six of the deathly dark shapes. They merged in and out of the shadows cast in the garden by the fire, making splotches of dark on the lawn as the dogs had done. Jelindel's eyes widened. They were footfall spells: enchantments to change sound to blots of darkness.

Jelindel knew at once that these were lindraks, the royal assassins. Where were the bullhounds? she wondered in despair. Even those soft-treading, deathly quiet intruders could not have got past the bullhounds.

Five lindraks flowed soundlessly over a wall, like shadows that had been cast by drifting smoke. The last one slowed, stopped, then turned in Jelindel's direction.