Master of Dragons (39 page)

His strength gave
out. He fell back among the pillows. Edward remained standing in silence, his
face averted, so that his son could not guess what his father was thinking.
Edward had his hands clasped behind him, and the fingers clenched and opened
and clenched. He glanced back at Marcus and then walked out of the room.

Marcus would have
sighed in bitter disappointment, but it hurt too much. Outside the room he
could hear raised voices, among them his father’s. Marcus assumed the king was
giving orders for the knights and what was left of his army to return to
Ramsgate, though it did sound as though someone was daring to argue with the
king. His father’s voice grew cold with anger, and that ended that. There was
silence.

Marcus’s shoulder
throbbed. Every breath hurt. Add to that the pain in his heart, that no amount
of poppy syrup could ease, unless he took enough to ease him out of this life.
Realizing he was thirsty, he was eyeing the water pitcher and thinking in
frustration that he would have to summon a servant just to fetch him a drink,
when the door opened and the court physician entered, accompanied by several
assistants bearing rolls of linen bandages.

They all bowed to
the prince, then continued a conversation started before they had entered the
chamber.

“We will bind His
Highness’s arm tightly to his side,” the leech was saying, the wide, full
sleeves of the gown that marked his office billowing around him importantly as
he walked. “And wrap the bandages tight around the rib cage. That
might
keep His Highness from puncturing a lung,” the physician added with a sniff
that indicated he’d be shocked if it did.

“What’s going on?”
Marcus demanded.

“We’re making you
ready to travel, Your Highness,” said the physician, his mouth pursed and his
face pinched. “His Majesty’s command. Against my advice.” He sniffed again. “If
this journey kills you, Your Highness, don’t blame me!”

“I won’t,” Marcus
promised, jubilant.

They filled a
wagon with straw, hoping to cushion the journey for Marcus as much as possible.
The roads were rough. He would be bounced and jolted unmercifully. To protect
him, the physician wrapped Marcus in so many layers of bandages that they would
have probably stopped an arrow better than plate armor. The leech handed him a
cup filled with a honey posset, liberally spiked with poppy syrup. Marcus eyed
it, but didn’t immediately drink it. He knew he would probably need it
eventually, but he didn’t like the feeling it gave him of stumbling about in a
dreamy haze.

Though the
physician had warned against movement, Marcus forced himself up and out of bed,
grimacing not only at the pain of his injuries but also at trying to move while
swaddled like a newborn. He was struggling into a shirt, trying to pull it over
his head with one good arm and his teeth, when he felt a hand touch him. Warmth
flowed through his body. Warmth that healed, not dulled.

Marcus couldn’t
see—the shirt was over his face—but he recognized the touch.

“Draconas,” he
said, thankfully. “Where did you spring from?”

“Hell—if you
believe the gossip that is running rampant through your populace,” Draconas
replied grimly. “Hold still and let me work my magic on you. I can only give
you ease. I cannot heal you fully. There is not time.”

“Thank you for
that, at least.”

“Don’t thank me.
My motives are purely selfish. I need you and I can’t have you dying on me.”

“At least you’re
honest.” Marcus managed to poke his head up out of the shirt collar. “Now that
you’re here, you should speak with Father—”

“I haven’t time.
Besides, Edward does not trust me much, and he’s going to trust me less after
he hears the news I bring. I cannot find the dragon army.”

Marcus paused with
his arm half in and half out of the sleeve. “What? I don’t understand. You
should be able to see them clearly from the sky.”

“You are right. I
should
be able to see the army from the air, but I can’t. I have spent the
night searching for them. My dragon eyes should be able to detect them, even in
the dark. I know they are out there, but I cannot find them. And it is not due
to Maristara.

She has retreated
back to Dragonkeep, to nurse her wounds and save her strength for the final
battle. My guess is that the female warriors are responsible for hiding the
army from my sight. They have the dragon-magic, and they are as strong in it as
your mother and the other priestesses of Seth. They used such magic to fend off
my kind for hundreds of years.”

Marcus slowly
realized what this meant. “The army could be anywhere—right on our doorstep—and
none of us would be able to see them—”

“
You
can
see them, Marcus. That’s why I’m telling you. I believe it is because the magic
they use is akin to the magic you use. It is the human factor in all this that
plays havoc with my ability to penetrate the illusion. I will continue to
search. The women who cast this magic have to rest sometime. The magic weakens
them— the ‘blood bane,’ Melisande called it. The magic will take its toll, and
if their spells weaken or falter, I may be able to locate them. In the
meantime—”

“I will keep
careful watch.” Marcus tried to sound confident, though his heart sank. That
heart sank still further, as he watched Draconas’s expression grow darker. “Yes,
what other bad news do you bear?”

“I was not going
to tell you this, Marcus, because I did not have enough information to give
you. I have to tell you, now, however, even though my fears are vague and
ill-defined. There is another dragon involved in this plot to conquer
humankind. She is powerful, one of the most powerful of my kind. Indeed, she
was, for many years, our leader, honored and respected. Fear changed her. Fear
consumed her. She is your most dangerous enemy, Marcus. Far more dangerous than
the late Grald or the wounded Maristara.”

“And let me guess,”
said Marcus. “You can’t find her, either.”

“I’m still looking
for Anora, and so are others,” Draconas said. “But, in the meantime, you must
remain vigilant and on your guard, both in your little room and out of it.”

Draconas picked up
the draught of the opiate and tossed it into the slop bucket. “Sleep if you must,
Marcus, but keep one eye open and one ear uncovered. And ride to Ramsgate as
swiftly as you can.”

INSIDE THE CASTLE
OF THE KING, SURROUNDED BY EVERY LUXURY, fed three meals a day—or more, if she
wanted them—Evelina was not happy She paced back and forth, back and forth
inside her chambers. A cage—even a gilt one—is still a cage.

The axe-faced
woman dogged Evelina’s every step. She was not permitted to go out of her room
except in the company of Axe-Face, the reason being that no proper young
unmarried
girl— and it seemed to Evelina that the woman spoke that hateful
word with a relish—would think of venturing into public without a chaperone.
Evelina chafed against this. She was certain at first that she was being
singled out for punishment. She was forced to concede, however, that whenever
she caught sight of the Lady Izabelle (which was as often as the jealous
Evelina could manage), the lady was always in the company of an older woman.

Evelina was not
permitted to speak to any one, particularly any man, which stricture she
considered extremely harsh and unfair. There were several very comely
men—particularly among the Her Majesty’s knights—who would have been glad to
amuse her. Although the Queen’s Guard were preoccupied with news from Aston
Castle, receiving daily reports from the messengers who were riding back and
forth, some found time to take note of the pretty girl who, it was bruited
about, had caught Prince Marcus in her web of golden curls, amongst other
attractions.

One or more of
these knights had taken to being on hand whenever Evelina was outdoors for her
daily walk in the garden. She was, of course, stalked by Axe-Face, who actually
pinched Evelina’s arm when she smiled at a handsome young lord who had first
smiled at her. The unsightly bruise pained her for days, and Evelina never
picked up a knife to slice her meat but that she indulged in fond thoughts of
slicing up her chaperone.

Evelina was not
permitted anywhere near the Royal Quarters, and thus she was forced to give up
a notion she’d entertained of chumming about with the Queen and endearing
herself to her. Evelina saw the Queen or the ladies-in-waiting only from across
a vast expanse of lawn or at the end of a mile-long hallway she wasn’t allowed
to enter.

The only other
person Evelina was allowed to talk to was the serving girl who brought her
meals to her. This was also the only time Evelina ever escaped Axe-Face, who
dined with other high-ranking staff members of the Royal Household. The serving
girl loved to gossip, and Evelina was an avid listener, so they got on well.

At first all the
servant could talk about was the war. The news was good at the start. The king
had ridden off to Aston Castle merely to humor Prince Marcus, who everyone knew
was mad. (“Begging your pardon, m’lady, but that’s what Cook says an’ she’s
worked here for nigh on twenty years and the stories she tells, you wouldn’t
believe, and it’s only proper you should know, seein’ the horrible way they’re
treating you, which isn’t right, you being a fine lady yourself, if you
are
down on your luck . . .”)

Then something
went wrong.

According to the
servant, a messenger arrived in the middle of the night. They woke the Queen,
and she and Gunderson and some barons who’d been hanging about eating the king’s
food and drinking his wine held an emergency meeting, after which the barons
looked grim, the guards on the walls were doubled and the local militia was
drilling in the courtyard.

The next day, dark
rumors started. A stable boy overheard a groomsman who overheard one of the
barons saying that the king’s army had been defeated by an army of demons who
had the fires of hell at their command. By that night the rumors had spread
into the city—Satan’s army was on the march. This was the Apocalypse.

Shops closed. Inns
emptied. Churches filled. The atmosphere around the castle grew increasingly
tense. So pervasive was the mounting tension that it roused all Evelina’s
instincts for self-preservation. Her interest in Marcus waned considerably as
she heard horror stories from the servant about castles under siege, cut off
from food supplies for months, so that the people inside were forced to eat
rats, until they ran out of rats and eventually ate each other.

“If the demons don’t
eat us first, m’lady,” said the tearful servant.

Thus it was that
when Axe-Face made Evelina the offer, Evelina jumped on it with both feet.

“The
ladies-in-waiting are being sent home under guard,” the woman told her. “Her
Majesty has most graciously offered to dispatch you to a place of safety, as
well.”

“Under guard?”
Evelina asked eagerly, thinking of several of the handsome young knights she’d
seen around the castle.

“Of course,” said
Axe-Face coldly. After all, Evelina might be carrying the king’s grandchild.

Evelina was
ecstatic. Not only would she escape the drudgery and dullness of her life in
the castle, she would be furnished with male companionship for the journey. She
didn’t care where she was going, and she was packing for the trip when the
serving girl shed new light on the matter.

“So you’re leaving
us, are you, m’lady?” the serving girl said, plunking down Evelina’s food-laden
tray. “I can’t say that I blame you. I’m to leave, as well. They’re paring down
the serving staff to the bare bone, so Cook says. Cook volunteered to stay. She’s
ever so brave. The Queen had tears in her eyes when she thanked her. Cook says
she’s going to see to it them demons don’t make a mess of her kitchen.”

Evelina, flinging
clothes into a bag, scarcely listened.

“Prince Marcus is
coming home and it seems he isn’t mad at all. He turned out to be a hero,
though he’s bad hurt, we hear. The Lady Izabelle is going to stay on to nurse
him. I call that romantic, don’t you?”

Evelina halted and
turned around, silken chemise in hand.

“Prince Marcus is
returning to the castle?”

“Yes, m’lady. I
thought you knew.”

“The Lady Izabelle
is staying here with him? Is that what you said?”

“Yes, m’lady. The
Queen wanted to send her away with the others, but the lady said that she had
agreed to be his wife and that this, in her eyes, was the same as wedding vows.
She wasn’t going to desert him in time of danger.”

“The prince is a
hero, you say? Not mad?”

“No, m’lady, not a
bit of it! He led the knights against them terrible demons himself. Men fell
all around him, and he rode on and slew a lot with his bare hands and then he
fell and all the knights rushed to his rescue and he managed to escape, though
he’s grievous hurt, or so I hear. Cook’s fixin’ her special healing broth for
him right now.”

Evelina began to
take her clothes out of the leather bag. “Then I’m not leaving either.”

“Oh, my lady. How
brave!” The serving girl gasped.

“How could I?”
Evelina asked, her voice soft. “If my prince is ill, he might call out for me,
and then the Queen would
have
to let us be together. She wouldn’t be so
cruel as to keep us apart!”

“I suppose that’s
true, my lady,” said the serving girl, though she sounded skeptical. “But won’t
you be afraid?”

“Not with my
prince at my side,” proclaimed Evelina. “ ‘If I must die, at least let it be in
his arms.’ “ She’d sung that line many a time in taverns. It never failed to
set all the drunks to sobbing into their ale.

The
ladies-in-waiting and most of the serving staff departed, Axe-Face among them,
to Evelina’s joy. Her Majesty had not been at all pleased to hear Evelina’s
refusal to leave and was going to order her away even if it meant tying her to
a horse. Before that could happen, however, the king and his knights and
soldiers and Marcus arrived at the castle, turning everything upside down. King
and Queen had far more urgent matters on their minds than Evelina.