The Dragon's Lair (11 page)

His voice grew more gentle as he saw the looks of shock on their faces.

"Remember, stay down, children. It's best that anything passing by thinks you are cargo, nothing more." He got out of the wagon, picked up the vegetables and fruits that had spilled over the sides, tossed them back into the sacks, and mounted again.

"
Het
," he said to the horses. The team lunged forward, dragging the wagon, then smoothly began the journey east toward the Inn.

"How are you feeling, Amariel?" Ven asked as they slid down below the sides of the wagon, trying to get comfortable.

"Like one of the fish in that cart."

"Oh," Ven said. "I'm sorry it's been a difficult morning. But it will get easier once we're on our way."

"It had better," said the merrow. "For your sake."

Ven couldn't help but smile. "At least you're not going human," he said. "You still sound very merrow to me."

"Thank goodness for that," Amariel said. "Just make certain no one but you touches my cap."

"I will," Ven promised.

The wagon rumbled east into the rising sun. As it climbed higher in the sky the birdsong became louder and the warm wind picked up, rustling the bags and the children's hair. Amariel smoothed the scales that had once formed her tail, looking nervous as they grew drier.

"I hope when I return to the sea this will go back to being the way it was," she said. "I really did have a very beautiful tail."

"Yes, you did, and I'm sure you will again," Ven said. "Try not to worry."

"Don't tell me what to do," said the merrow. "I'll worry if I want to. It's not
your
tail. Hmmph."

In the distance a dog began to bark. A moment later, another joined in, then another. Ven shifted to his side and peered between the slats in the wagon.

Up ahead to the south he saw the gleaming walls of the White Fern Inn.

Mr. Whiting, the owner, was standing in the middle of the lush green front lawn, whitewashing the sign. He put down his brush, then turned and looked in the direction of the wagon.

Ven's stomach sank.

Mr. Whiting is one of the most evil men I have ever met, maybe the most evil. He accused me of theft and murder and had me arrested and locked up in the palace dungeon while the king was away on a state visit. His guard dogs are evil as well. They about tore my friend Nick to shreds on his way home from town one night. Mr. Whiting used them to frighten people away from the Crossroads Inn so that his own place would always be full. He even got Vincent Cadwalder, the steward of Hare Warren, to work with him against Mrs. Snodgrass. I find that strangest of all, since Cadwalder's own parents were murdered at the crossroads when he was a baby, and Mrs. Snodgrass took him in. She has been as much a substitute mother to him as she is to everyone else who lives in Hare Warren or Mouse Lodge
.

Mr. Whiting had to pay to repair the damage his dogs did to the Crossroads Inn, and has been warned by the constable to stay away from it, and from me. The fact that Mrs. Snodgrass did not take everything he owned, or, worse yet, have her husband visit him along with the crew of the Serelinda, shows what a forgiving and kind woman she is. She even forgave Cadwalder, whom she had taken care of all his life
.

I am not as forgiving as Mrs. Snodgrass
.

I still don't understand why Mr. Whiting is not in jail
.

The muscular dogs barked even louder as the wagon came nearer to the White Fern Inn. They chased each other around in their pen, faster and faster, becoming one great swirl of black and brown fur and snarling teeth. One of them sent up a baying howl, and the others joined in, filling the air with the sound of unnatural screaming.

The horses slowed their pace. Ven could hear Tuck speaking softly to them, encouraging them forward.

Ven reached over and took Amariel's hand. It was shaking.

"Don't worry," he whispered. "They're behind a fence."

"Don't speak, children," Tuck said.

Ven jumped. His words to Amariel had been as soft as he could make them. He was not sure she had even heard him over the hoofbeats, the creaking of the wagon, and the noise of the howling dogs.
Tuck's ears are very sensitive
, he thought.
It must be a Lirin trait, because McLean has it, too
.

The wagon rolled on, even more slowly. Ven lay as low as he could behind the sacks of food and provisions, keeping his eye on the hole between the slats.

As he watched, the neatly pressed sleeves of the innkeeper's shirt came into view.

Ven held his breath.

Then he could see the shoulders of that shirt as Mr. Whiting crouched down, staring at the wagon. His great hooked nose passed by the same hole Ven was watching through.

Then his eyes, dark and menacing, bore into Ven's through the slats.

The dogs screamed louder, their jaws slathering and foaming, as they threw themselves against the fence. Ven could see the wooden gate buckle, nearly opening. He heard Amariel gasp beside him. He rolled over to see her, white and wide-eyed, and clapped his hand quickly over her mouth.

Suddenly the back gate of the wagon rattled. An even higher, more horrifying scream tore through the air as a streak of brown and black fur leapt from the ground.

And hurled itself onto the children.

7
Leaving Safety Behind

V
EN THREW HIMSELF ONTO AMARIEL, LEAVING HIS BACK EXPOSED
to the attack he knew was coming.

He braced himself, keeping his hand over her mouth.

And tried not to yell as he felt his back being gouged and scratched. He clenched his teeth, waiting for the bite, and closed his eyes.

As something ran up his shoulders and through his hair, then disappeared into the sacks.

Ven opened one eye. His face was right next to the merrow's. Her eyes looked like giant green marbles above his hand.

"Was that a cat?" he whispered. "That felt like a bloody
cat
."

Amariel nodded.

"Not a dog?"

The merrow shook her head. Beneath Ven's hand on her face, she was trying to keep from sneezing.

Ven let his breath out slowly. His back and neck were throbbing.

"Sorry to have bothered you, sir," he heard Tuck say to Mr. Whiting. "Must have picked up a stray in town."

"Harumph." Mr. Whiting coughed unpleasantly. "Be on your way, man. You're upsetting my dogs, and probably my guests."

"My apologies again," said the forester. He clicked to the horses. The wagon lurched, then began rolling east again.

Ven took his hand off Amariel's mouth. He lay still until he knew they were well out of sight of the White Fern, then sat up and ran a hand over his shoulder. It was bleeding slightly, and the gouges on his back stung.

"Bloody cat," he muttered again.

"Better than one of those dogs," said Tuck from the front of the wagon. Ven jumped again, having forgotten the forester's sensitive ears. "And better than you being noticed."

"Well, that's certainly true," Ven said. "But I'm not looking forward to digging that thing out of the provisions. We certainly don't want it in the wagon."

"Just to let you know, Ven, if you ever jump on me like that again and cover my mouth, I'm going to bite you," Amariel said.

"I wouldn't blame you," Ven admitted. "But I was just trying to keep you safe."

"Hmmph," said the merrow.

The cat did not emerge before the wagon came in sight of the crossroads. Ven rose up on one knee and saw that Char and the others were waiting in front of the Inn, their belongings tied up in small cloth bundles. They were hiding in the shade of an enormous rosebush that Ven did not remember seeing before. He waved to the merrow to come next to him.

"See those people?" he said, pointing. Amariel nodded. "Those are my other friends. See? There's nothing to be worried about. The tiny little girl over by the flowerbed is Saeli. She's a Gwadd, not human at all. Gwadd are an old race of people who love the earth and live in hilly fields, I think. Saeli's very nice, and she's also very shy. She can talk, but she has a very odd voice, so she prefers to speak in flowers."

Amariel looked puzzled. "Flowers?"

"Those anemones you saw in the windowboxes in Kingston, the pretty ones? Those were probably flowers." Ven pointed to wildflowers growing in the fields along the road. "Like those."

"How can somebody
speak
in flowers?" asked the merrow.

"It's hard to explain. Sometimes when she wants to say something, flowers appear at your feet, or a vine gets long and tangly, or a bush grows bigger."

"Never mind," said the merrow. "You're making my head hurt."

"Saeli is so gentle that you can't possibly be afraid of her," Ven went on. "She's—"

"There you go again, telling me what I can and cannot feel," Amariel interrupted. "You should really stop that. Wait 'til you come under the sea with me. We'll see if
you
can keep from being afraid of stuff that doesn't scare
me
. I, for instance, have a good many friends who are sharks. I can't wait for you to meet them."

"You have a point," Ven admitted. "Sorry. Anyway, the tall girl with the dark brown skin—that's Clem. Her real name's Clemency. She's human, but she is the curate-in-training for the Spice Folk who live in the Inn." He stopped at the look of confusion on the merrow's face. "This isn't making any sense to you at all, is it?"

"Not a bit."

"All right, then, I'll stop trying to explain and you can just meet them," Ven said. "I know they're going to be excited to meet you."

The merrow let loose an exasperated shriek. "See, there you go again, Ven," she said. "You don't know
anything
about how they are going to feel. Who do you think you are, King of the Sea?"

"Definitely not," said Ven.

"I know you are trying to make me less nervous, and that you want to help. Just stop trying to make everything all right and maybe it will be."

"Good enough," said Ven. "We're almost there."

The wagon slowed as it approached the Inn. Ven could see Ida and Clem sorting through a large canvas bag, and Saeli finishing her daily maintenance of the flowerbeds. Char had come out from behind the rosebush and was standing at the edge of the road, his hand shielding his eyes, and was waving excitedly.

Amariel tugged at his sleeve.

"That's the boy who was fishing for birds," she said.

"Yes! His name is Char," Ven said. "He's the one I told you about—my roommate."

"Roommate?"

"We share the same bedroom at the Inn."

"Bedroom?"

"A room where you sleep."

"Well, sleep I know. What's a room?"

"Oh boy," said Ven. "This really is going to be a challenge for both of us to keep anyone from finding out you're a merrow." Amariel looked even more nervous. "Tell you what—if there's something that you don't understand, just grab my elbow, and I'll explain it to you when no one is listening."

"
Great
," said the merrow. "Then they'll all think I'm
stupid
."

"No, they won't," Ven said. "No one who meets you could ever think you're stupid. You're very smart, and that's obvious."

"How diplomatic you are," said Amariel. "Now, quiet down. I want to hear what everyone is saying." She leaned up over the wagon boards and looked around at the Inn and the wide green fields leading off to woods, her eyes still glowing with wonder.

The wagon came to a halt outside the Inn. Amariel grabbed Ven's elbow and pointed to the golden griffin that was painted on the door. Ven explained quietly what it was.

"Yo! Ven! Hoay!" Char called as he ran alongside the wagon.

"Shhh," Ven said in return. "We're trying to leave without everyone in the world knowing we're gone."

"Well, the Inn is empty of guests. Cadwalder's asleep. And the other kids are takin' stock of supplies and cleanin' the basement, so 'til someone comes along on the road, no one's here to see us."

"Are you sure Cadwalder's asleep? We had a close call with Mr. Whiting when we passed the White Fern."

"Quite sure," Char said. "Or in bed, at least. The Spice Folk are watchin' him."

"Good. Is Nick coming with us?"

Char shook his head. "No. He's got to work. He didn't come inside the Inner Market anyway, so the Thief Queen never saw him. He says he'll be careful, and good luck."

"All right," Ven said. "Char, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine. This is Amariel."

Char blinked. Ven glanced to his right where the merrow had been sitting, looking out over the fields.

She was gone.

Ven turned around. The merrow was crouched behind a large barrel.

The back of the wagon rattled as Char opened the gate.

"Don't worry," Ven whispered.

"Shut up," the merrow whispered back.

Char's thin face and dark, straight hair appeared over the back of the wagon, along with the rest of him a moment later. He looked at the merrow, then his eyebrows drew together in surprise.

"Hi," he said.

Amariel just stared at him.

"Ven, what's goin' on?" Char asked. "What's she doin' here?"

"She's coming with us," Ven said. He stepped over a sack of beans and tried to get to the merrow. Amariel slapped at him.

"You sure?" Char asked doubtfully. "She don't look like she partic'ly wants to. And where did she come from?"

"She's just a little nervous," Ven said as the merrow slapped at him again. "She came from town—and I've known her for a long time."

"What are you
talkin
' about?" Char demanded.

Ven turned around. "Look, Char, I don't have time to explain now. This is all you have to know—her name's Amariel. She's my friend, and she's coming with us. Now go get the others and let's get out of here."

Char shrugged. "You're the boss, I guess. Or at least the biggest target." He whistled for the girls. "Come on, step lively. We need ta get underway."

Saeli wiped her hands on the grass and scurried over to the road. She picked up a tiny gingham bundle and came over to the wagon. Char boosted her up, and Ven helped her aboard. She sat down in the back next to a bushel of apples. Then she caught sight of Amariel.