Fool’s Quest

The depredations of this dragon are just as damaging as if we were facing an invasion by a small army. The creature is “small,” I am told, by dragon standards, and yet her hunger seems insatiable. The shepherds dare not put their flocks out into the higher summer pastures, for even with men and dogs watching over them the dragon swoops in and takes what she pleases. As many cattle and sheep die in their headlong flights as by her claws. The best breeding stock of cattle and horses were, for a time, safe if kept within barns or stables, but even that is no longer the case. There have now been three reports of the dragon using claws and powerful sweeps of her tail to demolish buildings to get at the cattle inside.

Will homes and humans be next? The situation is intolerable. As king, you must offer us some kind of solution, whether a negotiation or a military response. There are rumors that Skill-coteries are able to communicate with dragons. Those of my shepherds and farmers who have been brave enough to stand and either offer this dragon selected stock or threaten her have been ignored. At the least, cannot you send a coterie here to attempt to reason with this creature?

—From the Duke of Farrow to King Dutiful

I stood as if turned to ice. I tried to make my mouth form words. “What do you mean?” I managed at last, but I knew what she meant. As impossible as it seemed, there was only one explanation.

“Like you did,” she said. “They went into a stone, like you did. And they took Bee with them.”

I felt the world halt around me. My ears rang. “What stone? Where?” I could not find enough air in my lungs to make my questions more than a whisper.

Shine blinked. She spoke quietly, in a puzzled voice. “He tricked us. The Chalcedean who seemed kind. He found us and he took us back to Dwalia. And Vindeliar and a few of the others. They were hiding because Chalcedeans were near. Almost as soon as she saw us, she made us all hold hands.” She scowled suddenly. “As if it were a game. A children’s game. Soula held my hand too tight, digging her nails in. The bitch . . .”

Her voice ran down. I held my breath. Let her talk. Ask no questions. I could see how fragile she was, how tenuous her focus on us. She reached toward Riddle suddenly with a shaking hand and her voice went breathy. “Dwalia took out a scroll. And a glove, a very thin glove with silver on the fingertips. But it wasn’t pretty. She put it on. And she touched the stone and—”

“Shun! Sweet Eda be praised! It’s you! Shun!”

Foxglove had halted my guard a respectful distance away and the Rousters had bunched behind them. Lant and Perseverance had ridden forward to see why they had halted, and now he flung himself from his horse and raced toward her.

“Lant!” she cried, and then she shrieked, “Lant! Lant!” She flung herself into his arms and I did not want to see the terrible race of emotions that went across his features. I hoped no one else could know what they meant. He held her, but not as she clung to him. He held her as a thing lost to him, while she wrapped herself in his arms as if she had finally and safely reached home.

“I thought you were dead! I saw them kill you. And then they kidnapped me!” Her dull calm was gone. Safe in his embrace, her hysteria was rising.

“Shine. What stone? Where?” Riddle demanded. He seized her by the shoulders and turned her back to face him. She tried to hold on to Lant’s shirt but at Riddle’s warning glance, he surrendered her and stepped back. Did he look relieved to have her taken from his embrace? She looked confused and panicky, but Riddle put his fingers on her chin and turned her face to his. “Shine. Look at me. We may be able to get Bee back right now. What stone did they enter? How long ago?”