Eona: The Last Dragoneye Read online

  It was as if all of the air had been sucked from the cart. They were searching for us; I had known it as reports and warnings carried to the fisher village, but now it was real. Now it was soldiers around us with orders to capture or kill. I clenched my shaking hands.

  “No, sir,” Dela answered.

  “Check the cart,” he ordered his men with a jerk of his head.

  I pressed myself deeper into the straw and tried to relax my limbs into a listless sprawl. Beside me, Vida rearranged her fierce intensity into meek servitude. We glanced at one another, momentarily bonded by the threat.

  The flap at the end of the cart lifted, and two men peered in with swords drawn. They scanned the cart, both of them skimming across my white clad figure to pause for a moment on Vida’s body.

  “A woman and her maid, sir,” the older of the two reported.

  Their officer appeared, and they both made way for him. He was younger than I expected, with a good-humored face dragged down by weary responsibility. Hanging from a length of leather around his throat was a red jade blood amulet. I had seen them before on ranked soldiers: a carved plea to Bross, God of War, for protection in battle. A blood amulet only worked if it was received as a gift, and one carved from red jade instead of the usual ox-stone would have cost a lot of money; someone wanted to keep this soldier alive.

  He was staring at my white robe, a stricken look on his face.

  “Sir?” one of his men prompted.

  The officer’s eyes flickered, then focused on me.

  “My apologies for intruding, madam,” he said gently. “Now I see why you journey at this time. I am Haddo, Lieutenant of the East Mountain Patrol.” He bowed. “You will understand that I must ask you to step down while we search your cart.”

  Vida straightened. “Please, sir, my mistress is not well.” Her voice had taken on the soft lilt of service.

  Haddo ignored her protest. “If you will step down, madam.”

  “Of course.” I busied myself with gathering up my gown, trying to hide my trembling hands. Below me, I felt Ryko’s desperate presence like another pounding heart.

  Vida hurriedly took my arm and pulled me upright. “Lean on me, mistress.” Her body was tense against mine.

  Hunched under the canopy, we moved toward the lieutenant, our progress slow and awkward. It was not all an act—after two days of lying in the cart, I could hardly move. With every shaking step, my nausea increased.

  Vida helped me down on to the roadside, softly fussing with the hem of my gown as we stepped around a puddle. When I turned to face the lieutenant, I finally saw the true extent of the threat. A troop of twenty men surrounded us: mainly foot soldiers with swords, but also a small number carrying deadly mechanical bows. There was no way we could we fight our way out. Vida’s grip tightened.

  “Is my wife all right?” Dela called.

  “Stay where you are!” Haddo ordered. He nodded to the two waiting soldiers. “Search it.”

  They climbed into the cart. I could not watch—surely my face would be a map that led straight to Ryko—but I could not look away. The older man flipped open the traveling baskets, one after another, and dug through them, scattering food, clothing, and bedding. The other soldier lifted the thick straw mattress, sending up a swirl of dust. He speared it with his sword, once, twice. Then his attention turned to the floor. Beside me, Vida sucked in a tense breath. My stomach tightened into a rush of intent.

  “I am going to be ill,” I said.

  As I turned toward the flooded ditch, Vida’s iron grip pulled me around to face the lieutenant. There was no time to object. Doubling over, I retched out a thin stream of water and foul bile at his feet.

  Haddo jumped back with disgust. I retched again, bringing up more of the bitter liquid.

  “Please, sir, my mistress needs to lie down,” Vida said, the weight of her body edging me toward the man. In reflex, I pushed back. She dug her fingernails into my arm until pain and a sharp pinch bent me over again.

  The lieutenant retreated another step, then looked up at his men in the cart. They were both smirking at his discomfort. “Well? Is it clear?”

  The man holding the mattress let it drop. “Yes, sir.”

  “Then get out of there and let this poor lady rest.”

  The men climbed down and, with a salute, returned to the waiting troop.

  As they walked out of earshot, Haddo said softly, “Do not be distressed, madam. My own wife had the same kind of sickness … afterward.” He gestured at my white robe. “We found good fortune at the Moon Lady Waters. I’m sure the gods will return your health, too, and favor you with another son.”

  I summoned a weak smile.

  “Since we are set in the same direction,” he continued, “you and your husband can travel with us to the next village. It will be safer and quicker.”

  “That is very generous of you, Lieutenant Haddo,” I said, forcing gratitude into my voice. “But we would not wish to keep you from your duties.”

  “My troop is crossing the mountain, anyway,” he said. “And I am sure the gods would want me to assist your pilgrimage. We should reach Laosang village before nightfall.” He bowed and walked away, no doubt to tell my husband of our good fortune.

  Vida eyed me as I spat out the last of the bile.

  “Next time, don’t fight me,” she murmured, guiding me to the cart.

  I longed to shake off her hands, but I was too weak to climb back inside alone. And I had to admit her quick wits had saved the day, if not my dignity. Without missing a beat, she bent to one knee at the back of the cart, the other knee raised—a good maid offering her sick mistress a mounting-step. Although it was tempting, I did not take the opportunity to tread heavily. I crawled onto the pallet and heard Dela trying to reject Haddo’s offer. Every attempt was courteously turned aside; the man was intent on helping us. It seemed our clever ruse had become our trap.

  “Well, I am very grateful, sir,” Dela finally said. We had no choice but to accept—blunt refusal would make the lieutenant suspicious. “It will be a relief to have your protection.”

  Vida pulled down the back flap, the strain in her face a mirror of my own; every moment we spent in the company of these soldiers could mean discovery. And now we were traveling alongside them.

  “Forward, then,” the lieutenant called.

  Silhouettes moved along the canopy as the cart jerked into motion. The front hatch slid open and Dela leaned into the cart.

  “Are you all right back there, wife?” Her voice was all consideration, but her eyes were fixed on Ryko’s hiding place.

  “I will be glad to stop for the night, husband,” I answered.

  Dela nodded. We all knew there was nothing we could do for the moment or, indeed, for as long as we were surrounded by Sethon’s men. Ryko would have to stay where he was until darkness gave us some cover to extract him.

  Dela cast one more anxious look at the floor, then withdrew.

  I rolled onto my side and carefully lifted the edge of the straw pallet, ignoring Vida’s soft hiss of protest. Pressing my cheek against the floor planks, I whispered, “Tonight,” just in case Ryko could hear me over the rumbling of the cart. It was unlikely, but I could not bear to think of him in that tiny space with no idea of what was happening or when he would be able to escape.

  I fell onto my back as another rise of nausea soured my throat. Near my feet, Vida was stuffing the mess of food boxes and bedding back into the traveling baskets.

  “Here,” she whispered, passing me a fresh flask of water. “You need to rest. Drink a little, but take it slowly or you’ll vomit again. It is like you have been hit hard on the head, and there is no remedy for that, except rest.”

  “You knew I’d be sick out there?”

  She shrugged.

  No sympathy, but what did I expect? A tentative sip of water made my stomach churn. I replugged the flask and nodded my thanks, but Vida had already turned away. I was still the killer of her friends. I star
ed up at the cloth canopy, searching for thoughts that would not bring guilt or fear. It was a futile effort.

  At first, I could only think of the soldiers around us, and Ryko trapped beneath me. Then came the ghosts of those I had killed. I tried to push away the stark image of the Beseecher crushed under the fisher house roof, but his lifeless face became every face in my mind: men swept away by roiling seas, women buried in their houses, children torn and bloodied.

  I took a shuddering breath, hoping to clear my mind of such grim imaginings. Instead, I saw my dying master convulsing in my arms, Lord Tyron beheaded on the road like a traitor, and the terrifying moment when I knew Lord Ido had slaughtered the other ten Dragoneyes and their young apprentices. So much death, and most of it in the name of Ido’s ambition. Even the villagers had been killed by his power as much as mine.

  Why did Ido save me? Ryko was right; Ido did nothing without some gain for himself. If he was still after my power, he could have had it at the fisher house; I had been defenseless. I shuddered, remembering the first time he had forced his way into my mind, during the King Monsoon test. He had not only taken over my power, but my body, too. Yet this time he did not try to take either. Perhaps Ido was truly a changed man. Still, I would not gamble on his transformation: darkness was woven too tight into his nature. It was more likely he was trying to force an obligation upon me—to save him from Sethon. Did he really think I would risk my life to rescue the man who had killed my master and the other Dragoneyes?

  “Laon, take your team and fan out to the south.” It was Haddo’s voice, near the front of the cart. “Sen, your team goes north. Remember, there is no bonus if the young Dragoneye lord is hurt in any way. The emperor is not fussy about the others. Corpses will do.”

  I heard Vida’s soft intake of breath. When I looked across, she was staring at the canopy, face drained of all color. Her eyes flicked to mine—a fleeting admission of fear—then she straightened her shoulders and continued stacking our belongings in the traveling baskets.

  Beneath my sleeve, I stroked the folio with its rope of guardian pearls and sent a prayer to Kinra: Keep us safe. The gems shivered and clicked, but this time I found no comfort in their tight embrace.

  CHAPTER THREE

  IT WAS DARK by the time our cart lurched to a standstill in the courtyard of the Laosang village inn. The sudden lack of noise sharpened the sounds around us: Haddo ordering his men to their billeting duties, the low of our hungry oxen, and the clang of kitchen pots. Soft yellow light edged the canopy and brought more detail into the cart. Vida had wedged herself upright between two of the larger traveling baskets. Her pale face was hollow from exhaustion. Throughout the long day, I had been lulled into uneasy naps by our slow swaying progress and the patter of intermittent rain on the canopy. Vida, however, had made a point of staying awake the whole time. I scrubbed at my eyes, strangely irritated by her stoicism.

  The front hatch slid open and Dela peered in at us.

  “I will arrange for a room, wife.” Every crease on her face was marked with dark dirt, like the painted lines of an opera mask. “You, Vida, see to your mistress and then come and help Solly clean the cart and prepare it for tomorrow.”

  A good plan, especially as most of Haddo’s men would be busy with their own needs for an hour or so. We met one another’s eyes, silently acknowledging the risk.

  “Here is your cloak, mistress,” Vida said, forcing brightness into her voice. She handed me the garment. “You must wrap up against the night air.”

  Dela was waiting for me as I clambered out of the cart. She offered her hand, in her role as husband, and frowned with concern as I sagged against her body.

  “Are you all right?” she whispered in my ear, bracing me.

  “It’s just travel cricks,” I said. Then I caught the aroma of meat and rich gravy. My empty stomach clenched into a growl. All nausea gone. “By the gods, I’m hungry.”

  The magnificent smell was coming from the inn’s tavern across the courtyard. The two-story building formed one side of the large cobbled compound, a space that could easily take eight of our carts side by side, and just as many lengthwise. Out in front of the tavern were three rows of wet eating benches, all empty. Red paper lamps were strung under the eaves, and the ground floor shutters were open to catch the cooler night air, showing a few patrons eating at long tables inside.

  I pulled toward the promise of food, but Dela stood firm.

  “We cannot eat in there,” she said.

  Of course: a rich merchant couple would take a private room, especially if they were on pilgrimage. I slumped back against Dela.

  A thickset man—the innkeeper, by his striped outer robe— had emerged from the tavern and was making his way toward us. He paused every now and again to brusquely direct soldiers to the two low-set buildings on either side of the gateway. From the blessing flags that hung across the windows, I could tell the buildings were normally used as pilgrim dormitories. Now they were barracks.

  “We need to move the cart,” I murmured to Dela.

  She grunted assent, then nudged me back a step. I winced at such a basic mistake—a good wife always stood behind her husband. The innkeeper approached and bowed, his eyes registering Dela’s heavy waist pouch and my fine linen robe.

  “Greetings, good sir, and welcome,” he said. “It is a relief to see at least one paying customer.” A wry smile softened his words. “Are you seeking rooms? I can offer you as many as you want for an excellent price.” He lowered his voice. “This trouble in the city is dreadful for business. And coupled with these bad floods and earthshakes, no one is traveling if they can help it.” His eyes found my white robe again. Realizing his blunder, he quickly added, “Your wife’s devotion to her duty, even in such dangerous times, does you great honor.”

  Dela nodded at the tacit apology. “One room will be enough, thank you.”

  The innkeeper bowed again. “And dinner? My own wife makes an excellent pilgrim meal. We can serve it in your room.” He tilted his head at the passing soldiers. “You’ll not want to venture downstairs once they get into the rice wine.”

  “Yes, we’ll take dinner,” Dela said. “My servants can have whatever is being served in your tavern.” She looked around the compound, then motioned the innkeeper closer. “I mean no offense, my good man, but is there somewhere safer I can put my cart? My servants will stay with it, of course, but I would prefer to have it out of this main thoroughfare.”

  “Out of harm’s way,” the innkeeper agreed. “I have a stable around the back with room enough for your oxen and cart. For a small fee I can feed the beasts, too.”

  “Accepted,” Dela said, touching forehead and heart to seal the bargain.

  The innkeeper repeated the gesture, then nodded at Vida standing quietly behind us, a traveling basket in her arms. “A word of warning: I wouldn’t make your girl sleep in the cart, even if your man does.” He rubbed his forehead. “I can put a pallet in your room for her.”

  “For a small cost?” Dela asked blandly.

  The innkeeper laughed. “No cost, good sir, no cost. I would not have any female at risk in my establishment. She can eat in the kitchen, too.”

  “That is very kind,” Dela said, bowing.

  “You,” the innkeeper called to Solly. “Take the cart around the back to the first stable.” Then he motioned for us to follow him to the lodging house.

  I stayed one step behind Dela and kept my head down. Even so, I managed to see Solly lead the oxen and cart along a narrow alley between the main house and the compound wall. It seemed our luck had finally changed; with the cart hidden in a back stable, Solly would have plenty of time to help Ryko slip away to find the Pearl Emperor.

  Yet a small voice inside me whispered that it was too easy. My disquiet doubled at the sight of Lieutenant Haddo watching us from across the courtyard, a still figure among the industry of his men. If he discovered Ryko, I had no doubt he would put the puzzle together and realize we were his quarry.
There was a keen mind behind that youthful façade. And if he did unmask us, then it would come down to a fight. Five against twenty. His eyes met mine, a sweet concern in his face. I looked away—the modest goodwife—my heartbeat hard in my chest.

  The innkeeper held aside the red door flags of the lodging house and ushered us inside. I hurriedly followed Dela over the raised threshold into a foyer that was little more than a corridor and stairwell. Gone was the rich enticement of stewed meat and gravy. Instead, the smell of rancid matting soured the air, the burn of fish oil from two dirty wall lamps adding to the stench. At the end of the passage, a back doorway opened to an outside area—judging from the tang of manure on the slight night breeze, it led to the stable yard. Somewhere out there Solly was stabling the oxen, waiting for a chance to free Ryko.

  Vida and the innkeeper entered the narrow space, and I was forced back against the edge of a steep staircase, its handrail patched with mismatched wood. I caught Dela’s eye; she had covered her nose and mouth with her hand, trying to hide her disgust. Beside the luxury of her palace home, this place was a hovel. Still, it was good compared to some of the inns my master and I had endured five years ago.

  The unwelcome memory cut through me like acid. Even though my master was dead, his betrayal was still raw. That long-ago journey was before he had deliberately had me crippled; I was newly delivered from the slavery of the salt farm, learning to act like a boy, and reveling in the freedom to move without the bite of a whip or the weight of a salt bag. Then my master secretly arranged to have my hip broken to hide my sex and make me untouchable. All in the pursuit of the power and money he craved. In the end, he regretted causing me such pain—he told Chart as much—and even came to love me in his own way. Perhaps now that I was healed and had the power of a dragon, I should forgive him. Yet my rage was as hollowing and hot as ever.

  The innkeeper unhooked one of the oil lamps and climbed the stairs. We filed up behind him, me struggling with my long gown, Vida straining under the weight of the traveling basket.