Servant of the Crown Read online

  The noise had been loud—certainly loud enough to have woken the beast. Perhaps this dragon was in one of the thousand-year sleeps the old children’s tales spoke of. The thought she’d had earlier returned. What was more impressive a feat—slaying a dragon, or capturing a live one?

  She clapped her hands hard, then again. The sound rang sharply through the temple and everyone flinched, even the soldiers.

  “What in hells are you doing?” Hangdog said.

  “It’s out cold,” Ysabeau said, clapping again. “It must be some kind of hibernation.” She clapped one last time, then shouted as loud as she could, then laughed.

  “Tresonne, that last town we passed through. Get back there fast and have the smith build us a cage. I think you know how big it needs to be!”

  “You want to capture it?” Hangdog said.

  “Why not? Better than leaving it here, don’t you think?” If this didn’t impress her father, nothing she ever did would. Bringing home a live dragon … The thought brought a smile to her face. She walked forward and reached out. Ysabeau hesitated for a moment—was this the most foolish thing she’d ever tried?—then placed her hand on the dragon’s snout.

  It didn’t feel how she expected it to, but then again, she had no idea of what to expect. She’d seen snakes in menageries, but never touched one. The dragon’s scales were hard, but not like pieces of slate—more like a boiled leather cuirass, but thicker. They were warmer and softer to the touch than metal or stone, but looked like they were made from beaten gold. She wondered if there was any actual gold in the scales. If there was, the scales on this creature would be worth more than the king’s fortune.

  The beast was breathing, albeit very slowly. Ysabeau counted twenty of her breaths for one of its, although she was breathing faster than normal. Her heart was racing, too. It would take far more than a gentle touch on the nose to get the dragon into a cage. She tapped it and immediately sprang back, but it didn’t react. She moved forward and tried twice more. Still nothing.

  “We’re capturing this creature, and we’re bringing it back to Mirabay with us.” It might have been taking a risk, but the reward? The prestige of possessing a captured dragon would far outweigh any power that silly little cup could give him. Magic had too many limitations—far more than her father seemed to realise. Reputation didn’t.

  She wanted it, but it was a big task and they had to move fast. Who knew when the creature might awaken? They’d all be in serious trouble if it wasn’t constrained by then.

  “You go with them,” she said, pointing at Hangdog. After the way she’d shut him down when he’d tried to tell her his name, she didn’t want to have to ask it now. “Do whatever it takes to speed the process up. I don’t know how long it takes to make a cage, but I want one here tomorrow. Understand? Magic, manpower. Whatever. It. Takes.”

  He looked at her with an expression of disdain. Clearly her time frame was unrealistic, but that was why she was sending him. During her time at the Priory, she’d seen impressive feats that would have taken a team of people days to complete, carried out in only a few hours. That was what she needed from Hangdog and the village’s smith.

  “A wagon also,” she said. “The biggest one you can find, and a team of oxen to haul it.” She moved around to the dragon’s side and wondered if she was biting off more than she could chew. It was large, but it was far smaller than the other one she had seen. The wagon would still need to be big, though, to support the weight of the cage as well as the creature. As she thought on it, they might need more than one.

  “Tresonne, judge for yourself if we’ll need more than one wagon and team to move it when you see the finished cage. It’ll be best to assemble the cage around it, so have the smith make it in parts that we can assemble here. Bring him back with you to finish the work. Also a team of men with blocks, tackle, and line, and struts to get the whole thing out of here.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Tresonne said. “I’ll rustle up as much help as I can. Better to have more than we need than not enough.”

  She was fast coming to appreciate Tresonne. He didn’t say much, but when he did, he was worth listening to. The academics had huddled and were watching the exchange.

  “Have you completed your task?” she said.

  One of them shook his head.

  “Then I suggest you get back to it. Tresonne, as fast as you can, please.”

  “Ma’am.”

  She turned her attention back to the sleeping dragon as Tresonne and Hangdog left the chamber. This wasn’t going to be easy. Then again, the things worth doing never were.

  PART TWO

  CHAPTER

  16

  Ysabeau didn’t sleep, and barely took her eyes off the dragon for a day, a night, and another day, as she waited for Tresonne and Hangdog to get back. Magic kept her alert and functioning, but there was only so long she could burn that particular flame before she paid the price. With luck, she’d be long gone before it came to that.

  The academics worked industriously, making sketches, taking rubbings, and copying inscriptions. They had decided their time in the temple was best spent acquiring as much information as they could. They could take the time to study and interpret it when they were back in the comfort of their university buildings. She reckoned it was the right decision—it was always best to make hay when the sun shone. You never knew when the clouds would close in. Nonetheless, she was intrigued—what secrets were hidden in those indecipherable-to-her carvings?

  She felt sorry for the scholars when they chattered excitedly about the books they would write about their discoveries. Each expected his name to go down in academic history. Solène suspected none of the knowledge discovered in this chamber would get far beyond her father’s office, and there was a distinct chance these three men would end up floating down the Vosges when their usefulness had passed. Knowledge had value only so long as it was controlled. When everyone had it, its power was gone. Her father, who knew that well, was not a man to give to others what he could hold on to himself.

  Noise at the entrance to the temple came as a huge relief. She had been on edge for a long time now, and her heavy use of magic was making her jittery. She walked up the ramp from the main chamber to the open-topped room that served as the entrance.

  Tresonne peered over the edge.

  “I think we’ve got everything we need,” he said. “We’ll start lowering it down.”

  The cage came down in six sections; bolt clamps around the edges would affix each section to the next. Ysabeau inspected the work, hoping it would be strong enough if the dragon woke up. The bars looked like good-quality steel, and the welds all appeared to be sound to her inexpert eye. It was as much as they could do, but might still count for naught if the dragon was strong enough to smash its way through. It would be best for all involved if it remained in hibernation, but that seemed like too much to hope for.

  True to his word, Tresonne had brought help—half the village, it seemed. Ysabeau was ambivalent about letting any of them see what was down here. There was enough gold in the statuary and reliefs to make them all wealthy, and certainly more than enough to tempt even the most honest to theft. There was an easy solution to that, once they had finished their work, but killing most of a village’s able-bodied men seemed excessive, even to her.

  There was another solution available, but she wasn’t sure it was wise, considering how much magic she was already using. Still, short of murdering a great many innocent men, she couldn’t think of a better way. They were coming down here to pull a dragon out from what they probably assumed was a cave. With their minds already open to the idea, creating the necessary illusion to feed that belief required far less magic than it might have otherwise. Still, shaping that magic would be a test of her skill at the best of times, and now, tired as she was, it would be a true challenge. She had never backed down from one before, though, and didn’t plan on starting now. She explained to Tresonne and Hangdog what she planned to do with her i
llusion, and instructed them not to mention anything about the temple’s true appearance, and to act as though it was a plain cave.

  The men looked about themselves nervously as they carried the sections of cage down the ramp and into the main chamber. To their eyes, thanks to Ysabeau’s work, it appeared to be a natural chamber in the rock, complete with stalactites, stalagmites, and echoing drips of water. Their shocked reaction to the sleeping dragon was so strong that she was amazed they didn’t drop their burdens or pass out. Once the cage sections were in, they brought down a number of logs to use as rollers under the assembled cage. It was going to be a big job, but she could see it all coming together.

  The men needed some encouragement, and then threats, from Tresonne, to get them to bring their sections of cage right up to the creature, but their fear of him seemed to win out over a sleeping dragon. All the while, Ysabeau stood aloof, pretending to be foreboding, but really doing her best to maintain the illusion.

  Tresonne joined her to watch the growing accumulation of equipment and tools.

  “What else do you have up there?” Ysabeau asked.

  “Two of the biggest ox wagons I’ve ever seen, and two teams of eight. I’ve left some men up there to rig up a pulley to lift the caged beast. Most of it has to be made from scratch, but it’s just a bigger version of the ones they use to haul bales of hay into the barn lofts, so they know what they have to do.”

  “Excellent,” she said.

  “We can use the oxen to pull it out and onto the wagons.”

  Ysabeau nodded, wondering if even that many oxen would be enough to hoist the dragon and the cage. They might need magical assistance. Unfortunately, while she could leave the cave illusion to its own devices for short periods, she could not afford to neglect it for long, nor could she divert much of her focus or energy from it.

  She wondered if Hangdog might be able to help with the heavy lifting. The last thing she needed was for a line or pole to break, and dump the caged dragon back to the chamber floor. So much could go wrong and everything hinged on the beast remaining asleep. It was a pretty precarious task, but the rewards would be huge. It was unthinkable, to possess a living dragon. The prestige it would bring …

  The first challenge was to work out how to get the dragon onto the bottom piece of cage, or it underneath the dragon. This was the part of the process she reckoned presented the greatest danger. If it was going to wake, this was when it would happen, and what creature liked waking up to find it was being stuffed into a cage?

  “Bind its snout,” she said, not sure why the thought hadn’t occurred to her earlier. She was certain it could do plenty of damage with its horns, claws, and barbed tail, but it was the thought of being eaten, or having parts of her body bitten off, that inspired the greatest terror in her.

  She waited, and waited, but no one stepped forward to do as she ordered. “Bloody cowards,” she muttered, then picked up a coil of rope the village labourers had brought in. She looked at the three-strand rope—simple hempen fibres—and wondered if it could possibly be strong enough to keep the beast’s jaws locked shut. Still, it was the smart thing to do, no matter how close to danger it put her.

  She looped the rope over the top of the dragon’s snout, then tried to shimmy it underneath. With each gentle tug, her heart jumped into her throat, but the beast remained asleep, no more disturbed than it had been when she had tapped its snout. Satisfied with its position, she tied it off, then repeated the process until there were six wraps. That done, she stepped back and gave all the men who had been too afraid to do the job a filthy look before topping up the cave illusion. Each refresh required less time and energy, but she was tired. More tired than she was willing to admit.

  “Now,” she said, “how are we going to get it onto the bottom section of cage?”

  “We could roll it on,” one of the villagers said.

  “Roll it?” she said. “You were all just too afraid to put a rope around its snout, and now you want to roll it?”

  “Its teeth are tied up now,” he said.

  He obviously hasn’t paid much attention to the claws, she thought. “Anyone else have any other suggestions?” It didn’t strike her as the ideal solution, but she couldn’t come up with anything herself. If it hadn’t woken up so far, maybe they’d get away with it.

  “Get the top, bottom, and three sides of the cage assembled beside the creature,” she said. “Leave one of the long sides open. Actually, attach it at the top. Someone can climb up there and hold it open until we get the dragon inside, then drop it down so the others can secure it fast.”

  She gestured for Tresonne and Hangdog to join her.

  “I can’t think of a better way to do it, can either of you?”

  Hangdog shook his head.

  “No,” Tresonne said. “Trying to rig up a pulley system to lift it would be difficult. This is probably the best way.”

  “There’s a good chance we’ll wake it up,” Ysabeau said. “I’m not having this mission fail. Gather up the academics as quietly as you can and move them to the entrance chamber. At the first sign of trouble, get them and their work back to Mirabay as fast as you can. After we get the creature caged, we can send them back down to finish up while we’re getting it loaded for transport.”

  “Do you really think it’ll stay asleep?” Hangdog said.

  She shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine, but if we return to Mirabay without it, we’ll be back here by the end of the week to fetch it. Mark my words. Better we do it now and surprise the Prince Bishop. He can be very generous when he’s pleased with you. If we can pull this off, the reward will be immense—for all of us. I can promise you that much. Let’s get to it.”

  The villagers had nearly completed the construction of the cage. Some men had begun to lay out the logs forming a track along which they could roll the cage. The fact that they’d done this suggested they thought the plan would work, which was something. She’d long since learned that when a person believes a thing will happen, they’re far more likely to make it so. She wasn’t at all sure she shared their confidence, but she knew they had to try.

  It was amazing, what a little fear could do to motivate people. The workers all knew that the sooner they had the dragon in the cage, the sooner they would be able to go home to their families—and the more likely it was that they would be alive come morning. To Ysabeau, a faster finish meant she could drop her illusion sooner. She might even be able to find some space on one of the wagons where she could sleep for an hour or two on the way home. That was a very attractive thought.

  She walked around the cage, giving each of the bolt clamps a cursory test. It was all for show, really—her strength, even if she enhanced it by magic, could not compare to a dragon’s. Still, she reckoned it was good for morale, and it at least confirmed that they’d all been properly fastened. As she surveyed the entire construction once more, she realised she was delaying. It was time to get on with it.

  “Do we have poles we can use as levers?” she said, studying the sleeping dragon.

  One of the villagers nodded and headed off, presumably to fetch them. It would be difficult work, and not only did she want to keep the dragon asleep, she didn’t want to injure it. Perhaps adding some magic to the mix might speed something up. She was about to call for Hangdog, but she’d already run him hard in the last few days and needed what energy he had left to keep the block and tackle secure. She didn’t have enough energy of her own left, not if she was to maintain the cave illusion—so it would have to be done the old-fashioned way.

  The villager returned, carrying a tied bundle of staves. They looked flimsy, but she hoped the combined force of all of them would be enough. She wished she had something better to go on, as she lined the men up along the dragon’s length, each armed with a stave.

  “As gently as you can,” she said.

  They advanced and worked their staves in under the dragon. Realising she was standing a little too near the creature’s sn
out for comfort, Ysabeau took a few steps back. If it woke, she would be the first thing it saw, and possibly ate. That prospect didn’t do much for her.

  The men began to put strain onto their staves. The dragon remained motionless at first. After what felt like an eternity, its body started to lean with the force, but it remained asleep. The men were red-faced and sweating, putting all their effort into the task. The dragon lifted, then toppled, and as easy as that, it was lying on its side in the cage, still soundly asleep.

  There were sighs of relief all around, one of which came from Ysabeau. As soon as everyone had taken a moment to revel in the fact that the beast had not woken and killed them all, they pounced on the cage, closed the open side, and fastened the remaining bolt clamps.

  Ysabeau did her best to look calm and collected, when all she wanted to do was let out a cheer of joy. They’d done it. They’d actually done it. Now all they had to do was get the beast out of there and back to the city, but the hard part was done.

  CHAPTER

  17

  Gill and Solène reached Castandres, the village dal Ruisseau Noir had chosen, after dark on their second long day of walking. It had taken time for the river to carry them clear of the city and for them to extract themselves from the water. Gill had thought it better not to risk the main roads and any larger settlement. Unable to acquire horses, they had had no option but to walk. For many hours.

  While they walked, Gill had plenty of time to ruminate over all the little things he’d neglected while planning their mission into the palace. If only he had had more time to prepare.… Money, horses, and a change of clothes topped his list, but despite the time he spent picking over the details, he could not escape the spectre that was lurking in the back of his mind. He was the one who had messed it all up. Him alone.

  He should have killed Amaury straightaway, without so much as a “Remember me?” or a “Prepare to die.” But he hadn’t been able to leave all the things that boiled around in his head unsaid, and even then he’d not got even half of it off his chest. Because of his delay, the Cup had been used. Pharadon’s only hope for his species was lost, and Amaury, who hungered for power like no other, had as much of it as he could handle.