Dragon's Bait (8 page)

"Oh my," said Selendrile, suddenly right beside her. "Then it's not likely to have been mislaid."

Alys was ready to strangle him for not having told her when he'd had the chance. How
could
he have taken the risk of stealing Griswold's chalice right out from under everybody's noses? But apparently the townsfolk read her furious expression as shock and dismay, for nobody asked her what was wrong.

Selendrile looked at her calmly and evenly, then raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Then, with an expression of chagrin since she was obviously not jumping in and playing her part as he expected, he said, "Just like at Saint Toby's."

The murmur of voices intensified. Was everyone who'd been in the church crowded around them in the square?

Slowly and deliberately Selendrile said, "Maybe it wasn't somebody from Saint Toby's who stole those candlesticks after all. There must be a thief going from town to town stealing from churches. We
were
lucky not to get set
upon on the road. Did anyone see any strangers loitering about the church?"

In Alys's opinion he'd gone and convicted them. But nobody pointed out that
they
were strangers. "Maybe," Alys said, sure that the crime was written plain on her face, "we should tell Father Donato and Inquisitor Atherton that there was a similar theft at Saint Toby's church."

The crowd surged around the corner toward Atherton's house. Atherton was standing outside, one hand on the tether of his readied mount. Straightaway, Alys's gaze went to the saddlebag. If she'd made the hole too large, people would see that it had been made intentionally. If she'd made it too small, the coins wouldn't fall through and all that she'd have accomplished would have been to enrich her enemy. She forced herself to look away from the bag and now saw that Father Donato was out here, too. By the look of them, he and Inquisitor Atherton had been arguing.

Selendrile caught her arm as though the crowd's jostling had caused him to lose his balance, but Alys had been looking at him and knew that wasn't the case. "Stay back," he hissed into her ear. He made his way forward as Atherton cast an annoyed glance at all the noisy people.

"Quiet!" the Inquisitor bellowed.

The townspeople stilled, so Alys could hear Father Donato say in his thin and whiny voice, "But why
must
you go now, when the church has been burglarized and we don't know how, and the villains might strike again?"

Atherton was aware of how many waited for his answer. "I already told you, I'm urgently needed in Tierbo for an exorcism."

"But surely tomorrow is soon en—"

"The boy they sent said it couldn't wait. In fact, he's supposed to be here now"—Alys ducked to avoid the searching gaze that passed over the crowd—"and if he doesn't hurry, I may be forced to leave without him. As for the burglar, just put three trustworthy men inside the church, lock the doors, then post three more men outside. I'm confident you can handle everything until I return."

Alys wasn't confident Father Donato could handle anything. He seemed a mild little man on the verge of being overwhelmed by life.

By this time, Selendrile had made it to the
edge of the crowd. People were calling out to Atherton, telling him about the theft of the silver candlesticks from Saint Toby's church, urging Selendrile to step forward and speak up, demanding attention in a confusion of voices that even Alys, knowing what they were saying, couldn't sort out.

Atherton's horse became suddenly skittish. It snorted and sidestepped and threw its head back in wide-eyed terror. Alys recognized that reaction from the cart horses that had brought her to the hill where she'd been staked out as dragon's bait. She glanced again at the saddlebag. The horse was shying away from Selendrile, but since the dragon-youth stood so close to everybody else, anyone would have assumed the size and noise of the crowd was the problem.

Atherton dragged on the bridle but to no effect. Finally he said, "I've got to get away before this foul beast steps on someone. Just set up guards to watch the church, and guards to watch the guards, and I'll be back as soon as I can." He swung up into the saddle and dragged hard to the right, which was toward the crowd in the street, which was exactly where the horse didn't want to
go. The horse reared, then landed back on all fours with what was probably bone-jarring force.

Alys, who was looking for it, saw a coin fall to the packed earth.

As Atherton guided the horse into the street, Selendrile swooped in and picked up the coin. "Inquisitor," he called.

The horse reared again, and the saddlebag lost another coin. Atherton craned around to see what was the matter.

"You dropped this." Selendrile held up the coin so that it sparkled goldenly in the light of the nearby torches.

"Not mine," Atherton said, obviously annoyed with the interruption, the horse, and the world.

"Not mine either," Selendrile said. He held the coin up as though to let its owner claim it.

"There's another one." Alys pointed. "Under the horse."

Atherton's head swung round at the sound of her voice, and she stepped behind a wide woman lest he recognize her too early.

Someone else from the crowd retrieved the second coin.

"It's not mine," Atherton snapped when the man held it out to him. He sounded ill-tempered to have to admit it. "Now move out of my way. I have work to do."

Selendrile moved in closer. "Well, maybe you should hold it in safekeeping until the owner shows up."

At his approach, the horse reared again. This time several coins were jostled loose.

"They're coming from your saddlebag," someone pointed out.

"Nonsense," Atherton answered.

Another coin dropped onto the little pile, and the sound of it was clear in the silence that had settled over the crowd.

Father Donato came forward, wringing his hands in agitation. He licked his lips several times before he could bring himself to say what the townsfolk were already muttering amongst themselves. His voice was so soft, Alys could barely hear. "Perhaps we should take a look in that bag," he said, "just to ... take a look."

Furious, Atherton swung off his horse. But as soon as he'd untied the bag and started to hand it to Father Donato, the entire bottom
ripped out. Gold and silver coins poured onto the street, along with the silver candlesticks, the golden plate, and Saint Emmett's chalice.

"I—I—" Atherton moved from shock to suspicion in the interval between two breaths. "Somebody put these things here."

"Obviously," said the man who had tried to give Atherton the second coin. "Which just leaves us with the question of why you were so anxious to leave."

"Oh dear," Father Donato said, looking as though he were about to wring his hands off. "Oh dear, oh dear."

Atherton scowled. Although his words answered the townsman, he was looking at Father Donato. "I've been called to Tierbo for an exorcism, you silly little man."

"Tierbo's a seaport," someone pointed out. "Lots of smugglers, lots of opportunities to sell stolen goods."

"I did not steal these things," Atherton shouted.

"Oh dear, oh dear," Father Donato repeated.

Atherton grabbed him by the shoulders. "There was some boy, sent to call me to Tierbo.
That's where I'm going, and all we need to do is find him—"

That sounded like Alys's signal; she poked her head out from behind the wide lady.

"There!" Atherton cried. "There he is!"

Alys looked behind her and to both sides.

"You! You, boy!"

Alys stood there, as though waiting, like everybody else.

Atherton let go of Father Donato and pushed through the crowd to her. "Are you a simpleton, boy? I'm talking to you."

Again Alys looked to either side.

"Tell them about the man with the voices. Tell them that it wasn't my idea to go to Tierbo but that you summoned me."

"What?" Alys said.

He grabbed her by the front of her shirt, which she hadn't anticipated.

"Let go," she cried, twisting. The last thing she needed was for him to realize she was a girl. "I've never seen you before."

"You were here this afternoon!" Apparently he was too frantic to notice anything amiss. "Tell them you were here."

"The boy was with me," the cloth merchant said, "talking about working for me."

"He came to my shop, too," someone from behind called out.

"And mine." That person added, "And he sure don't come from Tierbo."

"Terrible thing," Father Donato said in his nervous little whisper-squeak, "terrible. Nothing like this has ever happened before. We'd better take a look in your rooms, Inquisitor Atherton."

"There's nothing amiss there," Atherton answered. Then he swung back to Alys and stuck his finger practically into her nose. Very quietly, very firmly, he said, "You were here."

"He can't have nothing to do with the thievin'," someone pointed out. "
He's
the one
told us
about the thievin'."

Two of the townsmen took Atherton by the arms and marched him back to his house, with Father Donato as the reluctant leader.

Too many people jammed into the house, so that Alys and Selendrile couldn't even see into the doorway, but it didn't take long before they heard someone cry out that there was a large leather bag full of gold in Atherton's clothes chest.

Selendrile motioned with his head for Alys to move away from all the people. At the next street, he turned to look back. "Well," he said, "what do you think? You don't look as pleased as I would have thought."

Alys had to stop to consider and realized she didn't feel as pleased as she would have thought. "I'm sorry Father Donato had to get involved," she said. "He seemed like a sweet man."

"Ah," Selendrile said.

She looked up at him sharply, trying to decide what that was supposed to mean.

"Maybe it'll be better with Gower," he said.

"Maybe," Alys agreed.

I
N THE DARK ALLEY
behind the church, Selendrile resumed dragon shape so the two of them could leave Griswold without having to wait for the gate to open in the morning.

"Try not to pull my arms out of my sockets this time," Alys grumbled. With her back to him, she couldn't tell whether he'd already changed into a dragon and couldn't answer or if—still human—he simply chose not to.

In another moment she felt his talons wrap around her waist, enclosing her. She felt a twinge of panic and dug her fingers tighter into the bundle of his clothes, but she didn't have time to shut her eyes before her feet left the ground.

With slow, powerful beats of his wings, Selendrile carried her up, higher than the town
walls, higher than the trees, higher than the church steeple. At first she was disoriented, looking down on everything from the air, trying to make sense of half-familiar streets and buildings dimly lit by candles and torches and hearth fires, till her eyes began to cross and dizziness bubbled up in the space behind her eyes.
As soon as my stomach catches up to the rest of me, I'm going to be in serious trouble
, she thought.

But in another moment they'd left the town behind and were in the countryside and higher yet. Now the ground was too far away and too unreal to be frightening. Selendrile stretched his wings to catch an updraft, and fields and woods unrolled beneath them as he glided effortlessly on air currents. His grip around her waist was firm without being painful, and steady enough that she didn't worry about slipping loose. At die speed they were traveling, the rush of the wind past her ears was deafening. Still, by the time she saw that Selendrile was getting closer to the ground, she suddenly realized how disappointed she was at that thought. She laughed out loud at herself, and the sound was strange to her ears and, a moment later, was left miles behind.

With her feet once more on the ground,
Alys again found herself dizzy, but this time it was a giddy, pleasant sensation. She let Selendrile's clothes drop to the ground so that she could hold her arms out and spin around, with her face up to the stars, wishing she could hug them to herself. "That was wonderful!" she announced. "I love flying!"

She let herself fall to the ground and lay on her back watching the sky spin above her.

When things were finally standing still in their proper places again, she pointed up to a dark wisp of cloud shrouding the moon. "Next time"—she giggled—"if there is a next time—wouldn't it be fun to fly through a cloud—like diving into a big pile of unspun wool?"

Selendrile sat down beside her to pull on his boots. "You can't feel them."

Alys rolled over and propped herself up on an elbow. "What do you mean? Are they too high up for you to reach?"

He shook his head. "I can reach them. But they don't feel like anything. Well," he amended, "some of them are a bit damp. What's the second part of your plan?"

Slowly Alys sat up. The silhouettes of the hills to her left were suddenly familiar, and she
realized Selendrile had brought them to land just a short walk from the village of Saint Toby's. She rubbed her chilled arms. "I don't think," she admitted, "I'll be able to use the same disguise as I did in Griswold. I've lived with these people all my life, and men's breeches and a hat aren't going to fool anybody."

"All right," Selendrile said equably.

She sat looking at him, and he sat looking at her.

"Well?" she finally asked.

He sighed. "Assuming we can work around people recognizing you, what would you like to see done?"

Alys considered. "Gower wanted my father's land so that he could expand his own shop. His wheelworking is very important to him. I think I'd like to see him lose his shop, ruin his reputation."

"Easy to do. What about the daughter?"

Alys remembered the glee with which Etta had embellished the false accusations her parents had made, and how she'd suggested burning Alys at the stake. She felt a tightness in her chest and was suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. "I want her to be accused of the same
thing I was, to know that she's innocent and to have nobody believe her. I want her to be just as scared as I was."