The King of the Crags (23 page)
‘While Jaslyn is impatient and has little love for her mother. Your point?’
‘My point?’ Jehal laughed, but before he could say any more, a second messenger threw himself to the ground in front of them.
‘Your Holiness!’ he gasped. ‘It’s not the north. It’s the King of the Crags! The King of the Crags is coming!’
19
Silence
For all practical purposes, Jaslyn was a prisoner. She’d heard the new speaker’s summons and she’d flown south without an inch of doubt inside her. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted her mother freed or hanged, but in many ways that was a question that missed the point. Her mother would prevail. She would win because she always won, and Jaslyn would be tossed in her wake like a leaf in a storm.
She’d flown to Southwatch and then to Evenspire and then, quite to her surprise, all her dragons had been taken away. By her own sister. As jailers went, Almiri was as kind as they came, but a prison was a prison, and Jaslyn chafed at the invisible chains that held her to the ground. They might as well have cut off her legs.
‘You’re mad,’ Almiri said when Jaslyn had told her where she was going. ‘Speaker Zafir will throw you in a tower and have your head too.’
‘And
you’re
afraid,’ was Jaslyn’s reply. It hadn’t been a good conversation after that. Maybe Almiri was right and Zafir was a monster. Did it matter? Not to go was to concede defeat, wasn’t it? Jehal, who most certainly
was
a monster, who surely had his hand up Zafir as far as it would go, would waggle his fingers and make the speaker issue whatever decrees pleased him. Not to go meant no one would be there to challenge him, yet here she was, trapped by her own big sister as if they were both ten years younger and Almiri had been left in charge for the afternoon so their mother could go hunting. After days of frantic preparation, she suddenly found herself with nothing to do except to sit with Isentine and watch Almiri’s Scales at their work while her riders kicked their heels in the vastness of the Palace of Paths.
you’re
afraid,’ was Jaslyn’s reply. It hadn’t been a good conversation after that. Maybe Almiri was right and Zafir was a monster. Did it matter? Not to go was to concede defeat, wasn’t it? Jehal, who most certainly
was
a monster, who surely had his hand up Zafir as far as it would go, would waggle his fingers and make the speaker issue whatever decrees pleased him. Not to go meant no one would be there to challenge him, yet here she was, trapped by her own big sister as if they were both ten years younger and Almiri had been left in charge for the afternoon so their mother could go hunting. After days of frantic preparation, she suddenly found herself with nothing to do except to sit with Isentine and watch Almiri’s Scales at their work while her riders kicked their heels in the vastness of the Palace of Paths.
‘This is as close as I can get to them,’ she sighed. ‘
My
dragons. Just because she’s my big sister, why does she think she can get away with this?’
My
dragons. Just because she’s my big sister, why does she think she can get away with this?’
Isentine had a faraway look in his eyes. ‘Your Highness, this is the first time I’ve been away from Outwatch in five years. Should I be honest with you?’
‘Always. Someone has to be.’ They walked together among the buildings of the inner eyrie. Jaslyn knew they wouldn’t be allowed out onto the landing fields, that Almiri’s soldiers had orders to stop her. They were watching her now, a company of them, never too far away.
‘I thought, when you asked me to fly with you, that I would never see Outwatch again. I thought that we would fly to the Adamantine Palace and that we would both die on the speaker’s command. I thought you were foolish and reckless. I thought you should have come here to see your sister. That you should have come to plan a war together.’
Jaslyn growled: ‘If that’s what you thought then why didn’t you say anything?’ Even here within the outer walls of the Palace of Paths and its eyrie, most of the buildings were guarded. A few of them carried the sign of the alchemists on the doors. Somewhere not far away was the hatchery; the guards were unlikely to let her near Almiri’s precious eggs though.
I might smash a few in my impatience to be away.
I might smash a few in my impatience to be away.
Isentine ignored her. ‘That’s what Queen Almiri really wants and you know it. You do yourself no favours spurning her and sulking out here, Your Highness.’
‘I’m not her little sister any more, Eyrie-Master. I have almost three times her dragons at my beck and call.’
‘You should listen to Hyrkallan now that he’s back . . .’ Isentine kept on talking, but Jaslyn suddenly wasn’t listening any more. Or rather she wasn’t listening to
him
. She was listening to someone else. Or something else. A voice, inside her head, so faint she could barely even hear it, and yet so loud it filled the world.
him
. She was listening to someone else. Or something else. A voice, inside her head, so faint she could barely even hear it, and yet so loud it filled the world.
Who are you?
She froze. Two and a half months had passed since she’d last heard that voice in her head. The same voice. Except then it had come from a dragon half dead from poison, who’d breathed its last that same day.
A chill ran through her, down her spine and right to her toes, freezing them to the spot. Her jaw fell open. Her heart began to race.
‘Silence?’
I remember you.
A venom came with the thoughts, a snarling anger.
A venom came with the thoughts, a snarling anger.
Isentine was looking at her, concern on his face.
We will break free of you. One day. One day
.
I told you that.
The thought seemed to fade into the distance. She could almost feel something being wrenched out of her. Whatever it was, her heart went with it.
.
I told you that.
The thought seemed to fade into the distance. She could almost feel something being wrenched out of her. Whatever it was, her heart went with it.
‘Where are you? Silence!’
‘Your Highness?’ Isentine had an unforgivable hand on her shoulder. ‘Your Highness!’
She closed her eyes. All she wanted now was to fall to her knees and weep. With a heave and a shudder, she shook Isentine off and looked around. At least a dozen of Almiri’s soldiers and servants were watching them.
‘You forget yourself, old man.’ She slapped him.
Mother would have taken your hand and cut it off, even though you were her dearest friend. That’s why I’m not ready to be her. I’m not ready to be anything. All I want is Silence. I want my dragon back. That’s all.
Mother would have taken your hand and cut it off, even though you were her dearest friend. That’s why I’m not ready to be her. I’m not ready to be anything. All I want is Silence. I want my dragon back. That’s all.
Isentine staggered away, bowing as best he could, apologising and yet still asking whether anything was wrong. Jaslyn didn’t know how to answer. The voice in her head had seemed more real than anything, a pinpoint brilliance of colour in a world of hazy greys. Now she wasn’t sure.
Did I imagine it? I can’t ask if anyone heard a voice because there was no voice to be heard.
She took a deep breath and clutched at her head.
Did I imagine it? I can’t ask if anyone heard a voice because there was no voice to be heard.
She took a deep breath and clutched at her head.
‘Your Highness! Please!’
‘I heard a voice, Isentine.’ Her face went very hard as she looked at him, willing him to simply listen, to be silent and to believe her. ‘I heard a dragon. It spoke to me in my thoughts. It was Silence. He remembered me, Eyrie-Master. He remembered everything. He remembered
me
.’
me
.’
Isentine didn’t say anything. Jaslyn could see the disbelief in his eyes, the refusal to even try to understand, but he didn’t speak, didn’t even shake his head.
He thinks I’m mad. Maybe I am. Mad with grief, mad with loss, but I
know
what I heard.
He thinks I’m mad. Maybe I am. Mad with grief, mad with loss, but I
know
what I heard.
‘Your Highness,’ he said at last, ‘if he is here, where is he?’
Jaslyn shrugged. ‘Close, I would think. I don’t know. But I have to find him. I have to know that it’s true, that they come back and they remember!’
‘Then let us find him. He was yours after all, and if Her Holiness Queen Almiri has a dragon in her eyrie of the colours of smoke and ash and coal, she will not keep it secret for long.’ He didn’t believe her. He’d never believed her. He’d spent forty years and more working with dragons. They’d never spoken to him in his head; they’d never died and been reborn and remembered anything. As far as Isentine was concerned, they’d never done anything except hatch, eat, breed and eventually die like any other animal. Yes, when one died, another was born and their numbers were always the same, but to Isentine that didn’t mean anything. They were still animals. As long as they had their potions.
None of that mattered. If he helped her, then she would show him and he would have no choice but to believe her. She stamped her foot and glared at the soldiers. ‘They won’t let us roam around among my sister’s dragons.’
‘No, Your Highness.’ Isentine shook his head sadly. ‘Unless . . . Your Highness, I’ve badgered and cajoled Queen Almiri’s eyrie-master and been steadfastly refused. The order comes from the queen herself. But if you promised you would join Almiri in her plans for war . . .’
‘I do not
want
a war.’ Then Jaslyn almost smiled. She wagged a finger at her eyrie-master. ‘I see. You would have me join her council but not her war.’ She walked quickly now, forcing Isentine to hobble along as best he could in her wake. ‘Very well. She can have me at her table, but I will not throw my dragons into some foolishness.’ She took a turn, out of impulse, down a narrow alley between two low stone storehouses with long windowless walls.
want
a war.’ Then Jaslyn almost smiled. She wagged a finger at her eyrie-master. ‘I see. You would have me join her council but not her war.’ She walked quickly now, forcing Isentine to hobble along as best he could in her wake. ‘Very well. She can have me at her table, but I will not throw my dragons into some foolishness.’ She took a turn, out of impulse, down a narrow alley between two low stone storehouses with long windowless walls.
‘Hey! Your Highness! Stop!’ The voice came from behind her. It sounded like one of Almiri’s soldiers, so Jaslyn ignored it. ‘By the command of the queen, you are not permitted to enter . . .’
She reached the end of the alley. Several soldiers were in pursuit, but the passage was narrow, the soldiers were armed and armoured, and Isentine was a frail old man, hobbling slowly and in the way.
‘Move aside, sir!’
‘I am Queen Shezira’s eyrie-master, you insolent fellow! And I’m going as fast as I can.’
Jaslyn watched them for a second, smiled, and walked briskly into the eyrie. Not because she particularly wanted to but simply because she could. She wouldn’t get very far. There would be other soldiers to get in her way. She wasn’t sure what they would do if she refused to stop, if she physically tried to push them out of the way. They surely wouldn’t dare to lay a hand on her, not even on the queen’s order.
She did stop though. Her path led her to a huge stone barn. Its immense black doors were ajar and a warm wind blew out at her from inside. The air reeked of hatchling and heat and death. Several soldiers stood between her and the door, but the smell would have stopped her anyway. Her face tightened. The smell was one that every eyrie knew. A hatchling had died.
As she stood there, she heard Isentine, still shouting at Almiri’s soldiers, and then the soldiers arriving behind her.
‘Your Highness, by order of the queen, you are not permitted—’
She spun around and slapped the speaker across his face, then turned straight back again. She didn’t move, only watched as the great black doors swung open.
‘One of your queen’s dragons has died,’ she said, very quietly. Anyone who worked in an eyrie, even the guards, ought to know better than to do anything except be still and to watch until the alchemists and the Scales had done their work.
Four Scales dressed in heavy leather gauntlets and overalls emerged, dragging behind them a heavy stone sled. The dead hatchling lay on the sled, curled up. Not covered by anything in case it caught fire. Two alchemists followed behind. They carried silver bowls hanging from chains in their hands and they swung them back and forth, gently sprinkling water and their potions over the hatchling’s sizzling scales. All six men wore masks. The alchemists made potions that mitigated the worst effects of Hatchling Disease, but the strain of the disease from a dead hatchling was the most virulent of them all. Even the Scales were not immune.
Jaslyn stood very still, watching as they dragged the dragon away. She felt the heat of its death fade as the body was pulled out of sight. When they were gone she moved very slowly, surrendering herself to the soldiers behind her, letting them walk her to the edge of the eyrie and into the inner walls of the Palace of Paths, towards Almiri and her council. None of that seemed to matter now. She was lost, swallowed by a delirious kaleidoscope of glorious hope and crushing despair. Never mind that the colours had been all wrong; she knew with a certainty that she couldn’t understand that the dead hatchling had been her Silence.
Reborn.
Remembering.
Which made it all true. Every bit of it.
20
The Council of Kings and Queens
Vale stood on the walls as the skies darkened with dragons. After thirty years in the Adamantine Guard, the sight of so many still made his heart trip. He’d never seen them in such numbers before, even when all the kings and queens had come together at the passing of Iyanza to name Hyram as the next speaker. They flew in from the west and circled over the palace and then began to land around the edges of the Mirror Lakes. The speaker’s eyrie was already full, but that didn’t seem to trouble them. They’d brought their own, he slowly realised. Everything they needed. The excitement inside him felt strange and he wondered what was stirring him so. Later, as the skies cleared and the first riders walked their dragons to the palace gates, he understood. Thirty years in the Guard. He’d seen kings and queens and speakers come and go, but in all that time the King of the Crags had never come out of his mountains to the palace. It made you wonder why this time was so special.
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