Dragon's Egg (5 page)

Mella nodded. She was having a hard time taking her eyes off the Egg. It was so dark it almost seemed to glow, she thought dreamily. It was like a
hole in the air. She forgot to say farewell to Roger when he left. She forgot to argue that he should not spend his coins on what was, after all, her quest.

After a while she shut the box again, to keep the Egg's heat contained, and stowed it at the bottom of her sack. Yawning, she moved over to the bed and stretched out on top of the shabby quilt. She'd had less than a night's sleep, and this seemed like a good time to catch up. Her eyes had just drifted shut when she heard the door swing slowly open on its hinges. It must be the servant come to make up the fire. But she couldn't be troubled to open her eyes and make sure.

M
ella had terrible dreams. She seemed to be drowning in black water; it pressed down on her face, keeping air from her lungs. She fought to swim, but her arms and legs wouldn't obey her. She could only float limply, helplessly, as she was tumbled over rapids and bumped against stones and at last dragged over the edge of a huge waterfall. The pool at the bottom was so deep that she never stopped going down.

It took a while for Mella to understand that she was awake. She was cold, as cold as if she truly were at the bottom of the deep black pool of her dreams, and she was lying on something rough and uncomfortable. What a terrible inn
this was. The beds were hard as stone. She tried to reach up and rub her face, but something was wrong with her hands.

“Mella!”

Someone was calling her. It was Lilla's turn to light the fires. She should hurry. Then it wouldn't be so cold.

“Wake up. Mella, please. Wake up.”

Lilla would never say please. Puzzled, Mella opened her eyes. It took her a few moments to realize that she was looking at her own hands, tied together at the wrists with fine, strong cord. Then fear burned away the last of her sleepy daze, and she sat bolt upright with a gasp.

She was sitting on the ground in a small clearing in the woods. It was a dark night, but the flickering, shifting orange light of a small fire let her see what was around her. Roger was not far away. His hands, like Mella's, had been bound together in front of him. Another rope was around his waist, tethering him to the back wheel of a wagon. Twisting around, Mella discovered that
she was tied the same way. The rope was too short to allow her to turn and get at the knots unless she could free her hands.

“Thank goodness,” Roger said, keeping his voice low. “I thought you were never going to wake up. I was getting worried.”

“I'm
still
worried.” Mella found her voice shaking. She tried to steady it. “What happened? I was in our room at that inn….”

Roger shrugged. He was picking at the cord around his wrists with his teeth. “Someone grabbed me from behind in the marketplace. He put something over my face. It smelled terrible. When I woke up, I was in that wagon. You were there too.”

“But who—”

Roger nodded at something across the clearing. Mella's question died in her throat.

A man walked out of the darkness between two trees, carrying an armful of firewood. He dropped the sticks to the ground and came over to crouch on his heels near Mella and Roger.
With his head tipped a bit to one side, he seemed to be looking them over as if they were dragons he was considering buying for his herd.

The firelight was at his back, casting his face in shadow. Mella could only get a glimpse of fair hair, smooth against his skull, and the glint of gold on one hand. The merchant, she thought. The one from the inn.

Suddenly, without speaking and without warning, the man reached forward and slapped Roger hard across the face. Mella gasped, but Roger didn't cry out, or even put up his bound hands to wipe away the trickle of blood that came from his nose.

“Leave those knots alone, or I'll tie your hands behind you,” the man said pleasantly. “And you'll find that's a much less comfortable way to spend the night. Well, my little guests. I'm so pleased to see everyone awake. Did you have nice dreams?”

He chuckled when neither of them answered.

“We must not be strangers to each other. You
may call me Alain. It's as good a name as any. And you need not fear; I am no murderer. Indeed, I'll take very good care of you. Your father will pay handsomely, I'm sure, to have you back in one piece.”

His eyes on Roger, he hardly seemed to notice that Mella was there. Somehow that made Mella angrier than being kidnapped and drugged and tied up.

Roger sat up very straight. His voice, when he spoke, was sharp. Mella stared at him. He didn't sound like friendly, inoffensive Roger anymore. He sounded like someone you wouldn't want to cross.

“And how long do you think
you'll
stay in one piece after my father has me back?”

Alain laughed again. “Why, as long as you want your little friend there to stay alive.” He nodded at Mella, who felt her throat go cold and tight. “She'll make an excellent passport into the next kingdom, or even the next. It was very considerate of you to provide me with a hostage.”
He reached out toward Roger's face again. Mella flinched, but the man only ruffled Roger's hair.

“Let's understand each other now. If you do as I say, I'll treat you well enough. But any trouble you cause me, you'll quickly regret. Meanwhile, let's see what gifts you brought me, shall we?” He got to his feet and walked around to the back of the wagon.

“Is your father rich?” Mella hissed at Roger.

“Very,” Roger mumbled. He was chewing on the knots again.

“But how did that man know?”

Roger shrugged. “He must have—” He broke off and quickly lowered his hands as Alain came back around the corner of the wagon, carrying Mella's sack and the leather pack full of Roger's belongings.

Mella burned with helpless anger as the merchant emptied her sack, scattering its contents across the grass. “Let's see what we have here. I'd be a poor host to let my guests get cold, wouldn't I?” He tossed Mella's cloak at her. She wrapped
it around her shoulders as best she could with her hands tied and watched while Alain picked up her coral necklace, dangled it from his fingers to examine it in the firelight, and flicked it aside into the grass. “Worthless. But what's this?” He picked up the metal box that held the Egg.

Mella exchanged a desperate glance with Roger as Alain flipped open the lid of the box. His eyebrows lifted.

“It's a firestone,” Mella said quickly. “If you put it in the fire overnight, it will keep its heat all day.”

“It's valuable,” Roger added earnestly. “Worth…I don't know how much.”

Still ignoring Mella, Alain looked at Roger with narrowed eyes. “I have never heard of a firestone.”

“They're very rare,” Roger told him. “It was a gift to my father. There are only five in the world. But you have to put it in the fire. If it grows cold, all its magic will be gone.”

Alain studied Roger thoughtfully. Then he smiled.

“Put it in the fire, must I? And if I do, what then? It will burn to nothing? It will explode, perhaps?” He shut the lid of the box. “No, I'll take this to a business acquaintance of mine. I'm sure it must be important; you were so anxious to have me destroy it.”

He dug through Roger's pack—an extra shirt, a dagger in its sheath, a small leather-bound book, a water-smoothed stone, an intricately curled shell. Something wrapped in a scrap of linen looked like it might be precious. Alain unwound it with interest only to find two birds' eggs, each a pale, unearthly blue, packed in dried moss to keep them safe. Alain snorted and crushed them between his thumb and finger. Roger, who hadn't made a sound when he was struck, winced.

Hefting Roger's purse in his hand, Alain frowned at its weight and poured its copper and silver coins into his hand. “Not much for your father's son,” he said, sounding offended, as if Roger had cheated him in a bargain.

But Mella, even though surprised at Roger's wealth—she'd rarely seen so many coins together at one time—could not take her eyes off the box that held the Egg. It had not been in the fire since the night before. It would be getting cold, too cold.

She felt cold as well, with despair. Bad enough that they were in this man's power. But even if they could somehow manage to escape, it would be too late. The Egg would be dead.

Roger looked apologetically at Mella.
I tried,
his eyes said.

After dropping Roger's woolen cloak across the boy's lap, Alain went back to his wagon. With his own cloak and two blankets, he made himself a comfortable bed near the fire. He set the box with the Egg next to him, and beside it he laid a sword in its sheath, ready to his hand. “I sleep lightly,” he warned them. “If you're wise, you'll try to get some sleep yourselves. We've a long journey tomorrow to a place where I can stow you safely before I begin my bargaining.”

For a time, Mella thought she could see glints of light from his half-open eyes. But finally she dared to believe that he was actually asleep.

“What will we do?” she whispered at Roger.

“I don't know.” He was back to working on the knots with his teeth. “He won't kill us, at any rate.”

“But the Egg—it'll get cold!”

“I know.”

“Well, then?”

“Well, what?”

“We have to—I don't know—we have to do
something
!”

“What, exactly, do you think we should do?” Roger asked patiently.

Mella found his calmness too exasperating to bear. “It's not
my
fault we're here,” she hissed angrily.

“So it's mine?”

“
My
father's not the rich one! No one would hold
me
for ransom. And it's all very fine for you to say he won't kill us. You mean he won't kill
you.
”

Roger didn't speak. Mella felt a little ashamed of her temper, until she realized that the reason Roger had not answered was because he was not listening. Instead, he was staring at something over her shoulder.

“What's—” He swallowed. “What's that?”

Mella turned to look.

E
yes. There were eyes in the tangled darkness between the trees, yellow spots of light a foot or so off the ground. They shifted and blinked and seemed to be creeping closer.

Dragons. Wild dragons.

One, bolder than the rest, was slinking quietly across the grass. Long neck stretched out, belly close to the ground, it crept toward the fire where Alain was sleeping.

“Is it going to…eat him?” Roger whispered, horrified.

“It's the Egg,” Mella whispered back. “They want the Egg.”

The dragon stopped. It sniffed around the box
holding the Egg and backed cautiously away from the fire, settling down in the grass with its nose toward the Egg.

Something brushed against Mella's side. She jumped, stifling a yelp that surely would have awakened Alain. A small brown dragon, a female, crept out from under the cart. It bared its fangs at Roger, who squirmed as far away as his bonds would allow.

“Hush,” Mella breathed, hoping to soothe the creature. “Hush, all's well….” Which it wasn't. More dragons were creeping in from the trees, closer to the fire and the Egg. If Alain slept as lightly as he claimed, any minute now the soft sighs and hissing, the rustle of clawed feet and long tails through grass and fallen leaves, might awaken him. And then? Mella couldn't imagine.

The little dragon beside Mella was quivering with urgency, her whole body pointing toward the Egg like a hunting dog on a scent. Without thinking, Mella put her bound hands out to scratch behind the dragon's ears, exactly as she would
have done to one of her own herd. And she thought of an idea.

She laid her fingers against the dragon's neck and tried to make her mind very quiet and still.

Help,
she thought.
Help me.

Nothing. Or did the dragon press a bit closer to Mella's side?

Help me,
Mella urged.

Was she imagining it, or did she sense something of the dragon's mind? It wasn't as clear as a word or a thought. But there was a yearning, an excitement, a delight. The Egg was pulling the wild dragon like the moon pulled the tide.

I am the keeper,
Mella thought.
Help me.

The dragon's head swiveled around. Large yellow eyes, glowing dimly in the dark, studied Mella.

Mella held out her bound hands.

The dragon turned back to the Egg and crept off through the grass.

Mella could have cried. She'd been so sure. So sure the dragon would hear her, would help her.
But it had been foolish. A keeper could sense her own herd and know in her bones when her dragons were hungry or ill or frightened. But she could not do the same with another's herd. And these were wild dragons, not tame at all. Nothing in them was attuned to a keeper's mind.

The wild dragons—were there six? Ten? More? It was hard to tell in the fading firelight—settled down, their scaly skins changing color to blend perfectly with the dry grass and bare earth. Only the twitching of a tail from time to time betrayed their presence.

Roger was back to gnawing on the bonds around his wrists. “They
are
related,” he muttered indistinctly at Mella. “If they…wan' the Egg…tha' much…”

“Could we talk about it later?” Mella hissed and began to chew on her own knots. But Roger had a considerable head start. Before she'd made any progress, he'd loosened the knots enough to seize the loops around his wrists with his teeth and drag them over his hands, taking a fair bit of skin along
with them. He twisted around to get at the ropes holding him to the wagon wheel.

“Hurry,”
Mella whispered urgently, with a frantic look at Alain. He lay still as stone by the fire.

Roger spared her a quick look as he yanked at the knots behind him.
What do you think I'm doing?
it said clearly. Mella could have screamed with impatience. Finally the last knot yielded to his tugging, and he scrambled over to work on the cords around Mella's wrists.

A low laugh came from across the clearing. Roger froze and Mella's head snapped up to stare at Alain, who was sitting beside the fire. In no hurry, he reached out to seize a branch and stir the coals with it. The flames brightened, and in their light Mella saw Alain's teeth as he smiled.

“Very noble. You might have run off yourself, but you stay to help your friend. I expected no less of you.”

Roger's gaze moved quickly from Alain to the edges of the clearing, back and forth, measuring distances.

“I'm quite a pleasant host, if my guests are obedient,” Alain went on. “But now you've proven that you can't be trusted. A shame. Things will—”

“Sorry,” Roger whispered to Mella and bolted for the woods.

Mella cried out, mostly from surprise. It was for the best, of course. If Roger escaped, he might be able to rescue Mella or get help. Obviously, it was better for one of them to be free than both captive.

That didn't stop her from feeling abandoned.

But Alain had been expecting such a move. He didn't even bother with his sword as he leaped up to chase after Roger, and he would have caught him easily, if he had not tripped over a dragon.

The creature rose with a startled squawk, beating its wings and hissing as Alain fell. Alain swore and looked back to see what had brought him down, but Roger looked back too. His hesitation let Alain, now on his hands and knees, lunge forward, get a hand on Roger's ankle, and send him headlong.

The dragon, a small brown female, made a dash
for the safety of the cart and huddled there, hidden behind the wheel Mella was still tied to. She puffed out clouds of steam, warm and damp against Mella's back. The other dragons didn't move, trusting to their stillness to keep them hidden.

As Mella watched helplessly, Roger thrashed, trying to kick Alain off. But he was no match for a full-grown man. In a moment Alain had him pinned to the ground, one hand on his shoulder, the other clamped around one wrist. With his free hand, Roger scrabbled up a handful of dirt and gravel and threw it in Alain's face.

Alain simply turned his head aside to shield his eyes and shifted his grasp from Roger's shoulder to his wrist. “Anyone would think you'd learned your fighting in the gutter,” he said mildly. “Quite enough of this.” Getting to his feet, he yanked Roger up as easily as if the boy were a doll stuffed with rags. With one hand twisted in the neck of Roger's tunic, pulling it tight enough to cut off his breath, Alain dragged his captive back toward the
wagon. Choking, Roger stumbled after Alain, unable to do more than pull at his collar, trying desperately to loosen it.

Mella felt as if something were clamped around her own throat.
Stop it. You're hurting him!
She bit back her foolish words. Of course Alain was hurting Roger; that was the point. The dragon hidden behind her lashed her tail angrily as Alain came near. The tail spike pricked Mella's arm.

Alain threw Roger facedown in the dirt and knelt beside him, pinning the boy with a knee in the small of his back. Pulling the long silk scarf from around his neck, he used it to tie Roger's hands behind him.

He wasn't looking at Mella. Why should he? Roger was the prize, the one he wanted. The wild dragon under the cart had gone still, huddling close to the earth.

Mella twisted around as much as the rope holding her to the wagon wheel would allow. “Hush,” she breathed. “Hush, stay still, hush now….”

“I did warn you,” Alain said. Roger, his face in
the dirt, made a muffled sound as his captor yanked the knot around his wrists tight. “If you'd done as you were told, we might all have been spared this unpleasantness.”

Mella didn't know if the dragon understood her or not. Probably not. The creature stayed still out of instinct, hoping danger would pass her by unnoticed, and didn't stir even as Mella began to rub the cords around her wrists against the sharp tail spike.

One strand gave. Two. Three.

“You've no one to blame for this but yourself,” Alain told Roger as he used the boy's own belt to tie his ankles together. “There. A night spent like that may teach you to obey your elders.”

The last cord snapped. Mella's hands were free.

Roger, squirming to get his face up off the ground, lifted his chin and saw Mella twisting around to work on the ropes that held her to the wagon wheel.

“I'll make it next time,” he said hoarsely, rolling over and struggling to sit up. “You're a fool to
think this will work. Someone will come after me. And—and you—”

Keep talking!
Mella thought, as if she could shout the words into Roger's mind. She tugged frantically at the rope. The cord was thin, the knots tight.

“Such defiance.” Sitting back on his heels, studying Roger, Alain smiled. “Really, it's not quite what I expected.”

“And you can't—you don't even know enough—” Roger was clearly running out of ideas. Alain frowned.

“You're stupid!” Roger burst out wildly. “A smuggler, I bet. A criminal. You'll never be able to—”

“Oh, for pity's sake. Another?”

Just as the knot gave way under Mella's fingers, Alain, with a sigh as though he were losing patience at last, got to his feet. In two long steps he was at the wagon, his hand around Mella's upper arm, lifting her clear off the ground.

“You've picked up some bad habits from your
friend,” he said. “It seems you need a lesson in obedience as well.”

Mella felt as if her arm would snap off at the shoulder. She kicked wildly. Alain laughed. The dragon hidden under the cart dashed out and sank her teeth into the back of Alain's knee.

With a yell, Alain let go of Mella's arm. The little dragon dodged out of the way as the two humans fell together, and Mella kicked and rolled her way free.

Alain rose to his hands and knees to find himself face-to-face with a wild dragon. She flapped her stubby wings frantically and hissed steam into Alain's eyes.

Mella scrambled to Roger's side and yanked at the belt around his feet.

Alain fell back, a hand to his face, and staggered up. Limping badly, he ran for his sword. All across the clearing dragons were rising from the grass like shadows coming to life. Hisses and growls echoed from every side.

Mella got Roger's feet free as Alain reached his
weapon. Dragons surrounded him now. He swung the blade, and they danced lightly and easily out of the way.

“Maybe you should run,” Roger whispered as Mella tugged on the scarf around his wrists.

“No, I've almost—”

“Look—”

One dragon after another darted in toward Alain and then fell back. Alain was good with his sword, but it was like trying to fight mist. The little brown female crouched to avoid a swing of the blade, leaped up, and fastened her teeth in Alain's sword hand.

Alain howled in pain and dropped the weapon. The scarf around Roger's hands came loose and fell away.

“Come on!” Roger was up, pulling at Mella. But her feet foolishly stayed planted. “Mella!”

“The Egg!”

The dragons pressed in close around Alain's knees. One must have bitten him again, for he cursed, twisted, lost his balance, and fell.

That's how they hunt,
Mella thought, horrified. A pack of wild dragons would worry and harass their prey until it fell. And then…

She remembered Alain hitting Roger, choking him. She remembered how lightly and easily he had threatened her own life.

But to stand and watch him eaten, bite by bite…

“Stop!” she shrieked.

Roger was running forward. He snatched up Alain's sword from the ground. And the dragons, after all, did not swarm forward to finish off the fallen man, but drew back.

Mella ran too. She looked around for a weapon and grabbed a gnarled piece of root from Alain's pile of firewood.

“Surrender!” Alain gasped, on his knees. His hands, one bloody, were spread out pleadingly. “I surrender, young knight.”

Roger stood before him, both hands on the hilt of the sword, the tip just inches from Alain's throat. The weapon was heavy for him. The blade trembled a little and caught the firelight.

“It is against the rules of honor to strike an unarmed man,” Alain said humbly. “I ask mercy.”

Roger hesitated. His face, smeared with dirt, was doubtful.

Mella brought her piece of firewood down hard on the back of Alain's skull.

“I'm not a knight,” she said, looking across Alain's crumpled body to Roger's astonished face. “I'm only an innkeeper's daughter. We don't have to worry so much about the rules of honor.”