In the Time of Dragon Moon (4 page)

Voyage to Dragon's Keep

Egret Moon

August 1210

V
AZAN
WAS
RIGHT
. Queen Adela didn't listen when I warned her that the journey would be perilous for her. I was told to bring my medicine trunk along and leave my opinions behind.

Her Majesty was seasick on the voyage. She blamed me for her foul mood and putrid stomach, so I was relieved on the fourth day when the sailors spotted land at last, and thankful to be mixing her potion in the ship's galley for the last time.

I rolled up the ridiculous, bell-shaped sleeves of Bianca's cast-off gown, then stirred the brew, chanting the plant names.
My medicine will work,
Father said.
I am the healer who will cure her. Trust me.
I did trust him and his medicine, but I wondered. Was I skilled enough?

The bapeeta powder darkened the simmering potion. I'd added an extra dose to calm Her Majesty before we reached Dragon's Keep.

When fists pounded on the door, I slid the bolt aside to find Prince Desmond. His clothes reeked of sweat and spilled ale.

I held the door firm. “The queen's remedy is nearly ready, Your Royal Highness.”

He forced his way in and kicked the door shut with his boot heel. The jolt rattled the pots hanging from their hooks. He wrinkled his nose. “Stinks in here.”

“It must be the whale oil lamp, Your Royal Highness.”

I turned away. He stepped closer, wrapped his arms around me, and pressed himself up against my back, his wide hands gripping my waist. I tensed. I'd seen these same hands slit an old man's throat back in Devil's Boot. “What are you doing, Your Royal Highness?”

“You know what I am doing.”

Holy Ones help me
. Offend the prince and I'd end up with my neck in a noose. I touched his arm to free myself and felt a scaly rough patch of skin under his sleeve.
Dragon scales,
I thought, withdrawing my hand.

“You must let me go. I have to bring this remedy to Her Majesty now.”

“Remedy? Mother thinks she has to have more children to please my father, but I don't need any royal snot-nosed siblings crawling underfoot.” Desmond's ale-breath was hot against my neck. In public he looked at me as if I oozed maggots. He had never touched me like this before, but his favorite, Bianca, had stayed behind on Wilde Island. I was here.

His hands slid down my waist and lingered at my hips. My insides crawled. “I like this gown, Uma. So much better than the filthy boy's clothes we found you in.” The night he learned I was female, he had had me whipped in front of him for my deceit. I gritted my teeth as my skin tore under the jailer's whip while Desmond watched.
I'm surprised you did not scream,
the prince
said later, sounding disappointed. That was a little over three weeks ago. The scars had healed. The painful memory hadn't.

“And you've done things to your hair.” He tugged the braid I'd carefully tied with a blue ribbon, jerking my neck back so hard my head hit his shoulder.

Keep calm. Think what a castle maiden would say.
“Such flattery, Your Royal Highness, but I have to take the infusion from the fire now.”

“Are you saving your virtue? Who would stoop to marry you?” He nibbled my neck, then sucked my skin the way he ate swan meat off the bone. I felt his breath on my cheek as he began to slide his fingers up the front of my laced bodice.

The door swung open with a bang. We flew apart, but not soon enough. Sir Geoffrey Crooked Nose had seen us in a backward embrace.

“Her Majesty wants to know what has been keeping you so long.” His face was hard in the shadows.

Desmond grunted, brushing past him. Sir Geoffrey turned and glowered at the door after he left before he faced me again. “You had better watch your step with him if you don't want your head on the chopping block.”

“I did not . . .” How could I say this? “I did not ask for His Highness to come inside, Sir Geoffrey. Please don't think—”

He looked at me a moment longer. Said nothing and left.

I wiped Prince Desmond's slimy kiss off my neck with three vicious swipes. Would he come to me again when we made landfall? Please, Holy Ones, I would have a door that locked.

• • •

W
HEN
I
REACHED
the deck, just barely managing not to spill the entire potion on the way up the rocking stairs, I heaved a breath. A few stars hung in the twilight sky. Prince Desmond stood at the prow with his mother, father, and Lady Olivia, taking in Dragon's Keep, our first sight of land. Sir Geoffrey hovered near the royal family with the rest of King Arden's private guards. I held back in the shadowy doorway, hoping the prince would leave his mother's side.

I couldn't bear to go near him.

The prince cracked a joke. His father laughed and pounded him on the back. He turned to his mother, and said something I couldn't hear from my hiding place. Queen Adela looked past him as if he weren't there. I caught his brief, hurt look before he faced forward again.

The island's black mountains lay like a sleeping bear atop the sea. Tiny specks of light winked near shore. We would arrive soon. Queen Adela needed to take her potion before we landed. Still I held back, sick at the thought of crossing Prince Desmond's path.

Sir Geoffrey pointed at the sky above the dark water. “Look, Your Majesties!”

Two dragons sped toward us, the green and copper-scaled kind that can grow as large as warships. But as they flew closer, I saw they were no bigger than Vazan.
Young dragons then,
I thought. And then I saw the riders. A rare sight for me. In my village only a few chosen elders flew on reds. Vazan had never let me ride her.

I watched them wing closer to our ship. Prince Desmond sometimes rode an old dragon who'd spent the last few months of his life dining on table scraps near the king's stables—not what I considered to be much of a dragon. Not like the noble Vazan. Not like these.

I watched transfixed. The dark-haired figure sitting proud on his dragon called down to us.

“Welcome to Dragon's Keep!” He caught sight of me by the door as his dragon skimmed down. The beast's wing knocked against the mainsail. I gripped the doorframe to steady myself as the ship tilted to the right. The queen let out a wild scream.

“Get away, dragon!” Desmond shouted, waving his arms overhead.

The coppery green beast backwinged out of reach. “I'm your cousin Jackrun Pendragon,” called the rider over the queen's piercing screams. “Here with my sister, Tabitha. Don't you recognize us?” I looked from Jackrun to Tabitha, saw her neck scales shining in the ship's torchlight.

Desmond threw his head back. “Get away from my mother, clodpole!”

I hurried toward Her Majesty, tripping over the coiled ropes on my way to the prow, spilling more precious remedy on the deck before finally passing the chalice to the king. “Your Majesty, please give her this,” I pleaded. “It will calm her.”

He held it out to his frightened wife. “My dear,” he shouted over her wails, “it is my brother's children flying out to greet us. They mean us no harm. Drink this. It will soothe you.” She reared back like a wild horse, her eyes darting from chalice to husband, her face contorted with confusion, but she seemed to understand at last. I heaved a sigh as she drank the warm brew and pressed the empty silver cup against her flushed cheek.

“That's better,” King Arden said, wrapping his arms around her. “You're all right now.” He shot me a grateful look as he handed back the chalice. I lowered my eyes. The calming effect in the potion did not work that quickly. For now, the king's arms supported Her Majesty while Lady Olivia patted her back, murmuring soft words like a mother soothing a frightened child.

Jackrun Pendragon glared at his cousin before he cupped his hand to his mouth, calling down to his aunt and uncle. “Please forgive us for startling you, Your Majesties. We came to escort you across the bay.”

He signaled his sister and flew ahead of the royal vessel. The dragons dove over and under each other as they moved toward the distant harbor, coiling a golden chain of fire for the ship to follow.

Sir Geoffrey hummed the fairies' song “Fey Maiden” under his breath as the shining fiery chain lit the dusky sky ahead of us, spilling gold reflections on the dark water below. Mother had taught me all the verses.

In the enchanted woodland wild,

The Prince shall wed a Fairy child.

Dragon, Human, and Fairy,

Their union will be bound by three.

And when these lovers intertwine,

Three races in one child combine.

Dragon, Fey, and Humankind,

Bound in one bloodline.

O Bring this day unto us soon,

And forfeit weapons forged in strife.

Sheath sword, and talon, angry spell,

And brethren be for life.

Three races in one child combined. The “child” in the song was Jackrun, a young man now, leading us toward his island with chains of dragon fire.

In that moment, on that ship, four months after leaving the only home I had ever known, I was watching my own fate. But at the time, I merely prayed he was not at all like his cousin.

Pendragon Summer Castle, Dragon's Keep

Egret Moon

August 1210

T
HE
CASTLE
ON
Dragon's Keep was built like the castle back on Wilde Island, but smaller. It perched like an ornamental hat on the distant bluff with high towers and a crenellated guard wall. King Arden called it the summer castle, a place he'd visited with his family when he was a boy. His younger brother and his family lived here year-round now.

“Carry the physician's trunk,” Sir Geoffrey called to a cabin boy. I turned as the lad rushed toward me.

“No, thank you. I have it.” No cabin boy would take my father's precious medicines. I'd carried it onto the ship, I could carry it off.

“It looks heavy,” Sir Geoffrey said. “You are sure?”

“Yes.” He'd looked out for me from the start. I didn't know why. Sir Kenneth passed us, his arms and neck muscles bulging as he hefted one of the queen's trunks more than twice the size of mine. I glanced up at Sir Geoffrey. “I never thanked you for what you did for Father and me,” I said in a hushed tone so no one on the busy deck would overhear. “If there is anything I can do to repay—”

“Think nothing of it. I chose to offer the food. They were starving you. A dead physician cannot heal anyone.”

He saw me start and realized his words made me think of my father, but it was too late to take them back. I knew he hadn't meant to hurt me.

“I'm sorry for your loss,” he said, lowering his head a little to make his speech more private. “I am sure you miss your father.” He paused, adjusting his belt. “I have to go, but if you should need anything . . .”

I looked down, feeling his kindness, unable to speak.

He stood a moment longer before walking across the gently rolling deck.

The ship creaked like old bones as I struggled down the gangplank with the trunk and took my place at the end of the procession walking two-by-two down the long curved quay for shore.

An enormous dragon twice the size of the ones who'd escorted us in swooped down and landed by the welcoming party, folding his wings and shaking himself a little as a seabird will do when it alights on the beach.

“Welcome to Dragon's Keep, Your Majesties,” he hissed, his voice like rough rocks tumbling down a ravine. King Arden gave him a hurried nod and whisked his wife up the beach toward the waiting horses.

I rested the Adan's trunk at my feet. The dragon's spicy breath loosened the hair at my temples, warmed my body. Closing my eyes, I was home, bathing in the steaming pools in the hills far below Mount Uther's volcanic rim. I could almost smell the slight sulfurous scent, mixed with the delicious odors of the lush green forest.

When I opened them again, I saw I had stayed too long. The king's men had stepped past the great dragon and we were left alone.

“I am Lord Kahlil. Welcome to Dragon's Keep.” His low, rumbling voice greeted me in Euit. I was surprised. Dragons are masters of many languages, but our tribe is small now. I thought only the reds still bothered to learn our tongue.

I'd learned to guard my speech among the English, but just this once I let my words sing. “Thank you, Lord Kahlil. I am the queen's physician, Uma Quarteney. I am full in being here,” I said in formal Euit before reverencing him with a bow and a hand on his scaly foot. The scales were leathery and warm.

Lord Kahlil gave a low, smoky sigh. Mother had told me stories about this dragonlord. He'd been a friend to the Pendragons for generations. Jagged scars ran down his long neck. A few teeth were missing, but the rest of his fangs looked sharp enough to eat his prey, bones and all. I hitched up my skirts and lifted Father's trunk.

“You carry a great weight,” he said.

“I guard the queen's medicines.”

“I do not mean the trunk.”

A shiver raced up my spine. Great dragons like Lord Kahlil, who lived a thousand years or more, had a long view. They saw patterns far beyond what we could see. Did he see “a great weight” in my past, the losses I carried since the English came, since Father died, or was he speaking about the future? My future.

I was working up the nerve to ask Lord Kahlil, when he turned and began to walk up the long beach toward the castle.

Suddenly the dark shore felt vast, like the waters I'd just crossed.

I stood in the darkness with nothing but the summer's night wind surrounding me, until a ring of torchlight encircled me, and a man's strong hand reached for Father's trunk. He'd sneaked up from behind.

I started, turned, and came face-to-face with Jackrun Pendragon. “Let me help you with that,” he said.

I held the trunk firm. “I can manage.”

His hand was still out. I caught the scent of sweat, the peppery aroma of dragons coming off his skin. “The beach is tricky in the dark. Driftwood lies everywhere like a giant's bones. You'll need a hand and my torchlight if you don't want to fall.”

Our eyes locked. He seemed to read my hesitation, note my tight grip on the trunk.

“You've nothing to fear,” he said. “Let me introduce myself.”

“I know who you are,” I said. His face was much leaner than his cousin's, but he had the same well-shaped nose over full lips. Traces of his Persian heritage showed in his gold-brown skin, and dark curls. Fiery rings surrounded the dark pupils in his green eyes.

A swirling gust, swift and hot, stirred us both. Lord Kahlil wheeled overhead, coming closer with each spiral, his great wings outstretched like sails, the night clouds deep red above him. Jackrun's black cloak and my gray one slapped against each other like battle flags.

My hair ribbon flew off, and Jackrun chased after it, returning just as the beast winged out to sea.

“What was that?” I asked, still watching the retreating dragon. “Was he angry with me or—”

“Not angry, I'm guessing. I think he sees you have the help you need.” He reached again for the trunk.

I paused. It
was
heavy. “Just carry your end.”

He cocked a smile. “As you wish.”

I tucked the ribbon into my mother's woven belt, watching Jackrun out of the corner of my eye as we walked up the dark beach toward his father's castle, the trunk swinging to and fro between us.

Jackrun slowed his pace as we skirted a large driftwood log. “My dragon, Babak, startled the queen. I saw you bring her a potion. You calmed her. Are you her lady's maid? Tell me your name so I can thank you properly.”

Jackrun Pendragon had waited on the beach to thank me?
“I am no lady's maid. I'm Uma Quarteney, the queen's physician.”

He stopped. “You must be a very gifted healer to have risen so high in your profession at such a young age.”

I gaped at him. A fluttering sensation passed along my chest as if my secret fox mark moved below my collarbone. No one had ever called me a gifted healer.

“Did I say something wrong?”

I tightened my grip on the trunk. He knew nothing about me.

He kicked up the sand as we walked on. “What ails the queen that she needs to bring her personal physician with her?”

Infertility. Madness.
“Weak stomach,” I said, landing on a half-truth. She
had
lost her appetite at sea. I wasn't about to discuss her real maladies with her nephew.

“Well, thank you for what you did back there, Uma Quarteney.”

We climbed the wooden stairs up from the beach to the grassy bluff, then stopped three stones' throw from the castle to rest and catch our breath.

Jackrun jammed the torch handle in the grass and got on his knees. Running his fingers along the dragon carvings encircling the Adan's trunk, he said, “Very fine workmanship. Matches the pattern in your belt. Who made it?”

“A woodcrafter carved it for my father down in Devil's Boot.”

“Where is your father now?”

I couldn't speak past the ache in my chest.

“I'm sorry,” said Jackrun. “I did not mean to—”

I fingered the silky places on my belt where Mother had woven her red hair into one of the dragons. She didn't know what had happened to Father, unless Vazan had flown home to Devil's Boot and told her. My hands went clammy.

Jackrun stood again. “I'd like to see Devil's Boot someday.”

“It's a lush and dangerous place,” I said with pride.

“Yes, with a living volcano, so I've heard.”

That living volcano had saved us when I was small. I had terrible memories of the English army burning our village, marching us south, closer to the mountain. When we reached the foothills, Mount Uther had rumbled, and spewed smoke and molten lava. The English army fled. We celebrated that year and every year after that with our explosive volcano dance. The only dance the red dragons admired, aside from the one we did on Dragon Moon.

Jackrun said, “I plan to explore all of Wilde Island.”

“You've never seen it?”

“We've kept clear of it.”

“Why?”

“It is a long story, Uma Quarteney.”

“Because you are the Son of the Prophecy?” I asked.

He looked surprised. “Some call me that. The firstborn with dragon, human, and fairy blood was supposed to be king, able to rule everyone, every race fairly. My mother married the wrong brother for that.”

I rubbed the long scar on my palm. “Rule every race fairly? Even the Euit people? My people?”

“Of course. Your people deserve respect like anyone else,” he said.

Not if you ask Prince Desmond,
I thought. “That would be very different than it has ever been before.”

“It was all a dream anyway. My mother made her own choice. She infuriated the fairies, especially my grandfather. My parents fled Wilde Island to escape his vengeful magic, and took sanctuary here before I was born.”

“And you've been safe here on Dragon's Keep?”

“It depends what you mean by safe. We haven't gone unpunished.” He hefted my father's trunk.

I blocked him. “I will take one end.”

He shook his head. “You guide us up to the road with the torch while I carry it for you, Uma Quarteney.” I surprised myself, letting him. He carried it along the bluff toward the castle with ease.

“It's a long way from Devil's Boot to Pendragon Castle. I envy your journey. You must have seen the whole east coast of Wilde Island along the way.”

He looked wistful, imagining a pleasant journey on horseback, not at all like the one I'd taken locked in Prince Desmond's jail cart.
As soon as Mother sees you and your boy here, she'll realize you're a fraud. Healing infertile women. Ha. That's a joke. I bet you used your prick, old man.

Jackrun must have heard me moan. I hadn't meant to make a sound. “You're tired after the long voyage,” he said. “I'll take you to your room. Then I'll have to leave you and dress for dinner. My mother has planned an elaborate feast. The Great Hall will be crammed with islanders to welcome the king.”

“But no dragons?”

He laughed. “I would love to squeeze them in, but our Great Hall is not
that
great.”

“The queen will be relieved.”

“And you? Will you be relieved?” He looked at me out of the corner of his eye.

“I won't be there.”

“Why? You must be hungry after the voyage.”

“I have work to do.”

The wind followed us through the open double doors, troubling my torch and the ones in the wall sconces. Servants hurrying down the hall with food trays stopped to bow to Jackrun before going on.

We mounted the spiral stairs in one of the four castle towers. “Tell me about the red dragons who live down south near your volcano,” Jackrun said. “I've never seen one.”

“They are fiercely independent.”

“Like you?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I had to fight to carry this heavy trunk for you,” he said, setting it on the third-floor landing. “Reds are too independent to take refuge in Dragonswood, I've heard.” He opened the door. “Your room, my lady.”

Inside, he lit the torches on the wall, the candles on the table. I sneezed from the thick dust, and looked around. Splintered chairs were stacked in one corner by a coverless bed. The worktable I would need to prepare my medicines was slanted. The rickety wardrobe door hung askew. A storage room for castle cast-offs.

“I'm sorry about this, Uma.” Jackrun grabbed some rushes from the floor and waved them around at the thick cobwebs. “I'll send a servant upstairs to clean your chamber right away.”

I grabbed some rushes and did what he was doing, both of us waving our arms as if we were greeting an exuberant crowd. We worked until our rushes were thickly matted. Evicted spiders scuttled along the walls heading for refuge in the piled chairs and behind the wardrobe. The room reeked of rat piss. I missed my small, friendly hut back home with its bed of fresh reeds, with the scent of the mountainside that could not be kept out. No amount of cleaning would change the intense confinement of these thick stone walls.

But I didn't feel completely lost in the tower room until Jackrun bowed and took his leave.