Chapter 18 - The Tower of Stovologard
(7314)
Tears fell
down Roztov’s smoke and soot covered face as he gathered up Broddor’s bones and
armour. Floran tied up a gendarme’s abandoned cloak into a makeshift bag and
they placed all the remains into it.
‘We cannot
tarry, Roz,’ said the wizard.
‘This is my
fault, Tup, from the beginning. He didn’t need to come, he didn’t need to be
here. I just wanted him to come on this stupid adventure because I thought it
would be fun.’
‘I know, but
the dust is settling now, soon the dragons will come again.’
‘What will I
tell his father?’
‘That he
died slaying a dragon. What better way for his son to die?’
Roztov
sniffed and wiped his eyes, smearing soot across his face. Smoke billowed down
the narrow street, blown by dragon wings further back where the street met a
larger thoroughfare.
Floran
stepped up onto a pile of rubble and held out his arm to shoot more fire flies
into the clouds of smoke and dust. Unseen, there was the sounds of men falling
over in armour and crying out in pain.
‘What is the
plan?’ asked the wizard calmly.
‘I... I...’
stuttered Roztov as he came to himself. He stood holding the top of the bag
that Broddor’s remains were in. ‘I’m not sure about flying out. Shape-shifting
into anything large is hard here and once we were above the rooftops I think
the dragons would have us.’
‘More rats?’
Roztov was
watching down the street behind them while Floran looked over the ruined roof
that blocked the street ahead of them. He could see gendarmes and dragonriders
gathering, a group of shadows in the smoke that were looming closer.
‘Maybe,’
said the druid. ‘Maybe if I did some rats and you did some bees.’
‘Worth a try
I suppose. You know what direction to go in?’
‘Well, I’m
not sure going back through all our mouse holes is a good idea. Wait...’
Roztov threw
his arms in the air as a volley of arrows was fired at them. A wall of air
pushed them all upwards to clatter harmlessly on the walls of the buildings on
either side.
‘The dragons
are watching us,’ said Floran with a gesture upwards.
‘Save your
fire flies for the men on the ground, I don’t think another dragon will come
down here.’
Floran
nodded and fire off a volley of his own, five fire flies, whizzing through the
air, each finding a target and knocking them to the ground. The others
scattered.
Another
shape came flying towards them, and Roztov raised his arms again, but it was a
seagull, gliding in fast. It landed clumsily at its feet and fell over. It then
turned into Meggelaine.
‘For the
sake of Etruna, what’s the hold up? Ghene said to wait for you, but I was worried
sick. Come on will you, we’ve found a good place to hide, where is Broddor?’
she said all in one breath.
‘Dead,’ said
Roztov dully.
Meggelaine
looked at the dirty bag in Roztov’s hand and let out a sob. ‘No.’
She took a
few steps backwards, as if trying to retreat from the reality of their friend’s
death. ‘No, Roztov, no. Not Broddor, not after all these years. How did... how
can it happen? Broddor is indestructible.’
‘It was
anti-magic sweetie. The dragon got him,’ he gestured at Neith’s corpse, ‘but he
got it.’
Meggelaine was
crying and sobbing. ‘But they can come back, Roztov? Didn’t a Holy Knight of
Aerekrig come back one time?’
‘I don’t
know, Meg. I think that was just stories.’
Floran was
the only one watching the street. ‘They are getting closer.’
Roztov
looked up and Meggelaine looked around. Gendarme’s, holding tall shields, were
slowly advancing down the street. There were men behind them carrying spears.
‘I don’t
want to kill any more of these men,’ said Roztov. With a grunt he held out his
hands then with his palms down pushed down on the air. Twenty steps in front of
them the street buckled and the cobblestones bounced up. The gendarme’s held up
their shields, but they were in no great danger as the cobbles only jumped from
the ground a few feet. The earth ahead of them flowed and shifted until there
was a deep trench ten feet wide. As they stood, wondering what to do, five more
fire flies whizzed towards them, but they exploded more or less harmlessly
against their shields.
Floran
looked back over the rubble. ‘There are more down this way too.’
Roztov and
Meggelaine clambered up over the dead dragon’s neck and onto the collapsed
roof.
There was a
large group of men milling around at the end of the street, getting organised
for an advance.
‘I can see
Honni at the back. He’s still with them,’ said Roztov. ’I don’t want to, but I
wonder if we should kill him. How much has he told them about us I wonder? It
would be better to still his tongue.’
‘No!’ cried
Meggelaine, even as the tears for Broddor still fell from her cheeks. ‘He’s
just a man, what about his family? We don’t know why he betrayed us.’
‘The wretch
bears a lot of responsibility for Broddor’s death, Meg.’
‘That’s not
who we are Roz!’ chided the fressle. ‘Maybe we can grab him and take him prisoner.
We can take him with us, then he can’t tell anyone anything.’
‘I’m not
sure...’ Roztov said as he looked down at the scimitar in his right hand, then
the bag in his left.
‘Listen, we
can’t just...’
Floran
stepped ahead of them and shot off a magical arrow, a bolt of yellow magic,
that lanced towards the group of men. It hit Honni squarely in the chest and
exited out of his back before evaporating.
‘Tuppence!’
cried Meggelaine.
‘No longer
an issue,’ said Floran with finality.
Roztov
looked out across the fallen roof, then looked back at the street where he had
created the chasm. The gendarme’s were laying beams to cross it.
‘Roztov, we
need a plan,’ said Floran.
‘Right,
right,’ said the druid as he looked around. ‘Well, it looks like seagulls are a
possibility in this place. Me and Meg can get out like that, at least.’
Roztov,
rubbing his chin, walked over to where a slain gendarme was lying.
‘The smoke
is clearing, but if I raised another fog...’
Floran,
understanding straight away, joined Roztov.
‘He’s about
my size. I like this plan. Make a fog, then you two fly off. I’ll get lost in
the crowd.’
‘It’s too
dangerous,’ said Meggelaine as she joined them.
‘Don’t worry
Meg,’ said Floran. ‘If I get into trouble I’ve got a few more tricks up my
sleeve.’
‘Och, fine,’
sighed Meggelaine. ‘Head to the docks when you get away then, but go three
streets back, right? The street with all the carts in it. I’ll etch a druidic
rune on the door of the tenement we are in. We are on the top floor, but come
quietly as there are people living on the lower floors.’
Roztov was
already summoning a druidic fog, his arms raised as a thick mist swirled about
them.
‘See you
soon, Tup.’
He then held
the bag of Broddor’s remains close to his body and changed shape. Man, bag,
bones and all turned into a seagull and took off into the air.
Meggelaine
held up her arms for a hug. When Floran bent down she hugged him and kissed him
on the cheek. ‘See you soon, Tup.’
Once she too
had flown off, Floran sighed and scratched the back of his head. He then
dragged the body of the gendarme into the open doorway of the nearest tenement
building to find a place to hide while he changed into the armour.
Fish were
caught in the seas north of Stovologard, by skinny men and women in long narrow
boats. At this time of year they only went out when the sea was calm and the
skies clear, which was rarely. Still, the fisher’s wharfs were one of the few
places where birds flew on the island, a large and aggressive type of herring
gull with distinctive black hoods and yellow beaks. They picked through the
piles of fish bones and shells or robbed bread from the dole carts, not even
the dragon stench of smoke and sulphur kept them away.
Two of them
landed clumsily on a street three rows back from the quayside. They then hopped
through a broken window and into an abandoned room. Here they turned into
Meggelaine and Roztov.
‘There are
families on the second, third and fourth floors. I’ve met some of them already,
they are all lovely people. We’ve got the whole of the sixth floor to
ourselves, the windows are all broken and boarded up, which is perfect for us,’
explained Meggelaine as they walked up the central stairwell.
Roztov, with
the bag of armour and bones over his back ran his right hand over the plaster
as they climbed.
‘Look at the
brick work here Meg,’ he said quietly. ‘At least a hundred years old. And see
the remains of the plaster? It was once painted. More than one colour too,
these would have been…’
He trailed
off as he thought of what Broddor would be saying to his observations.
Meggelaine, realising this, hurried him along.
‘Time for
all that later, Roz. We’ve got more important matters to attend to right now.’
At the top
of the stairs were three boarded up doors and one that stood slightly open.
Within the apartment, in the room that offered the only view of the docks,
Ghene, Tankle and Arrin sat warming themselves at a small fireplace.
‘Broddor and
Tuppence?’ asked Ghene as he stood up.
‘Tuppence is
on his way,’ said Roztov. He then went to the corner of the room and gently
laid down the sack he was carrying. ‘Broddor is dead.’
Ghene
listened in dismay, and then in quiet contemplation as Roztov told the story of
Broddor’s death. Roztov changed the ending so that it was Broddor that killed
the dragon. Not that it mattered, he thought, but the dragon may well have died
from the injury it had received in the chest anyway. That and the fact that it
had had a roof land on it, perhaps the last sword thrust had only hastened its
end.
Ghene let
out a deep sigh at the end of the tale and said, ‘Well, there is no better way
for a dwarven warrior to go I suppose.’
‘But so far
away from home!’ blurted out Meggelaine. ‘This is all my stupid fault. He
survived goblin wars, necromancers, the undead, two-headed giants, you name it.
And now here, he dies… Oh Roztov.’
Roztov sat
down by the fire and hugged Meggelaine to him like a child.
‘They can
come back though Roz? I heard that, or read it, or Broddor told me, or
something, about the Holy Knights. Sometimes the come back?’
‘I don’t
know Meg. I always thought that was just legends, but maybe.’
‘There are
tales of ancient Dynar, that they could bring back the dead,’ put in Ghene.
‘But those are sad stories and they never turn out well.’
‘That’s no
use Ghene,’ said Meggelaine, her voice muffled from her face being buried into
Roztov’s chest. ‘Bloody stories of people coming back as goats that could talk.
Honestly.’
‘I merely
mention it.’
‘Anyway,’
sighed Roztov. ‘We need to return his remains to his family and the armour to
the temple. It’s all we can do.’
Two hours
later Floran returned, dressed in gendarme armour he caused a stir on the stair
well when he was spotted by some of the other residents, but they relaxed when
he kept on going up. As he got to the top floor he removed his helmet.
‘Only me,’
he greeted them as he entered.
‘I warned
you about the people that lived here, Tup you idiot,’ said Meggelaine as he
entered. ‘You will have given them all a scare.’
‘I
apologise,’ said Floran. ‘It didn’t occur to me. Is there anything to eat?’
‘Here on the
table, this is all that is left. Hard to believe it’s only just lunchtime,’ she
observed.
Meggelaine
did her best to supply them with a meal from the bags they had managed to take
with them that morning. They talked of the battle.
‘That was a
disaster from start to finish,’ said Roztov as he chewed on some dried and
spicy vegetain meat, ‘A total mess, we can’t go through all that again.’
‘Agreed,’
said Ghene. ‘We need to stay hidden from now on, like mice under the
floorboards.’
Meggelaine
busied about the table, but there was little for her to do since they were
eating the food cold and with no plates or cutlery, so she found a broom and
started sweeping the floor.
‘Mice under
the floorboards,’ she muttered. ‘There is mice here alright, their droppings
are everywhere. This place needs a good scrub.’
Roztov
finished his food and went to sit back by the fire, trying to keep away from
the fressles cleaning frenzy.
After he too
had finished eating, Ghene turned into a rock lizard and scurried off down the
stairs to take a look at the docks. He blended in well, rock lizards were
everywhere, either scampering around in the shadowy parts of the streets or
climbing up and down on the sides of buildings. Sometimes the smarter ones were
kept as pets or companions for children. The even more intelligent ones were
given messages to deliver or other small errands.
The others
either sat by the fire or quietly went about the top floors of the building
looking for furniture that was still functional and anything else of interest.
Floran and
Arrin found a good bed on the fifth floor that still had a clean enough
mattress underneath its dust cover.
‘It looks a
bit heavy to drag upstairs, my lord,’ said Arrin.
‘Yes, maybe
if Roztov turned into a bear he could carry it, but then, we are trying to keep
our presence low key. A bear would probably draw attention.’
‘The people
in this building have already seen us, can we trust them?’
‘I don’t
know. From what I gather though, people moving from one building to another is
not uncommon. Many people in the population are outcasts. That means they are
not servants of the dragons. Not free men exactly, more like outlaws, but most
folks turn a blind eye to them, even the gendarmes. I should imagine the people
in this building assume we are outcasts.’
The walked
together to a window and peered out through the dirty and broken glass.
‘Fog moving
in again,’ said Arrin. Then after a long pause he said, ‘I can’t believe
Broddor is dead.’
Floran
sighed. ‘His death sits heavily on me, indeed. I will miss him greatly.’
‘Can he be
resurrected, truly?’
Floran
thought for a moment or two and then said, ‘We will return his remains, and the
armour to his people. The armour is sacred and will be passed onto the next
Holy Knight. There must always be twelve, apparently. As to bringing him back.
No. My people, have tried for a thousand years to cheat death. They who
practice necromancy are a blight on my nation and the nations around it. Even
Roztov’s first wife took this dark and evil path after the death of… Well, those
who seek to defeat these forces of darkness believe that the dead must stay
dead. I am one of them, the Vizards of Heshmatiye, we destroy the undead
wherever we find them. My friends forget themselves. They talk of the danger to
the world of Garamuda, the dragon known as “Old Bones” on the one hand, but
then talk of taking our friend back from the land of the dead on the other. It
was double-thinking like that, which led to the mess Nillamandor is in now. The
mistakes made in Al-Hamdalla should not be repeated… I find I am delivering a
lecture, I apologise.’
Floran
smiled and bowed then finally said, ‘They will come to their senses after a few
days. Sadly, we are much practiced at burying our friends.’
Ghene
returned in the evening, bringing food and drink he had acquired from a dole
cart down at the docks.
‘Free beer,’
he explained. ‘Free bread as well. Once a week, or some time period anyway, the
carts come around to feed the populace. They can take as much as they want.’
With the
beer they toasted the memory of Broddor, standing in the tenement apartment, by
the light of the small fire in the hearth. Ghene eased himself into a dusty
armchair and nibbled on a crust of the rock hard bread.
‘You need
the beer to soak the bread in,’ he muttered. ‘The docks are teaming with
gendarmes and busy with fishermen and other workers. I am not a nautical
person, but ships arrive with coal and other rocks, perhaps from another
island? The city is somewhat agitated, it could be because of us. We get a good
view of the docks from here though, I think we will be safe for a while.’
‘You say
that,’ said Roztov as he paced around the room, ‘but can we trust the other
people in this building? We thought we could trust Honni.’
‘I cannot be
sure, of course, but he did know we were outlanders. These people are under the
impression we are outlaws and not connected to all of today’s incidents. Each
evening we can skulk about as rock lizards and listen into their conversations
if you like.’
‘Might be an
idea,’ replied Roztov before taking a large swig from his beer bottle. ‘This
stuff has been honeyed. It’s not mead though. There is bugger all alcohol in
it.’
‘The locals
call it Sweetheart. It’s stout,’ said
Floran who was now sat on a broken down couch in the shadows at the rear of the
room.
‘Broddor
would have hated it. It tastes like that stuff you get in those little villages
on the west coast of Boreland.’
‘That’s it!’
said Meggelaine as she took another swig. ‘That stuff had a peaty taste from
the water though. This stuff tastes of smoke, but otherwise it’s the same. Oh,
that time on Boreland, when we were chasing those creatures down into their
lairs, what were they?’
‘Niffilbins.’
‘Oh Etruna,
yes,’ said Meggelaine as she put her bottle down and rubbed her feet by the fire.
‘We call them something different in Tormland though. Broddor got cornered by
six of them and then dragged off. We were an hour looking for him, I was really
worried he was dead...’
Meggelaine
sniffed and rubbed the tears from her eyes. ‘Those tunnels were like rabbit
holes, just twisting around everywhere. He got lost and turned around, and then
when he popped up out of the ground, just like a... just like a rabbit really
and shouted “I appear!” it was so funny. We all laughed, but we had been so worried.
They had witches you know, they could have done anything to him.’
Roztov
finally sat down beside her and she rested her head on his side.
‘It’s never
going to be the same now, Roz.’
Ghene was at
the window now, catching glimpses of the lights down at the docks through gaps
in the smoke and fog. ‘We can send Floran down with some of the gold we have left
to get some decent supplies. I can’t live off stale bread and sugary stout.’
‘We should
all be super careful,’ said Meggelaine, ‘We should lay low and let things
settle for a while.’
‘Yes,’ said
Ghene with a hint of uncertainty.
‘Listen,’
chided Meggelaine, ‘I know what you two are like, but it all got really messy
today. Should we just leave the city altogether do you think, for a while? I
don’t have much sympathy for dragons, but all those poor gendarmes and dragonriders
we killed, at the end of the day they were just doing their job.’
‘I know,’
said Roztov. ‘It got out of hand, but we are so close now.’ He sighed, finished
his beer and gently laid the bottle down on the hearthstone. ‘Close, but this
will be the hardest part. How can we take a ship from the harbour unnoticed?
How can we sail it with five people even if we manage to steal one?’
‘Not
counting me, eh? Charming,’ muttered Meggelaine.
‘Six then,
but even so.’
‘One thing
at a time,’ said Meggelaine, giving advice that she herself never followed.
‘I’m going to start by cleaning the room next door. It can be for me and Tankle
to sleep in.’
Later that
night, Roztov and Ghene sat on the roof watching the fog roll past.
‘I want to
get in the main tower, take a look inside. We need to find what’s going on with
Dreggen. He may be in the city already,’ said Ghene.
‘I agree,’
nodded Roztov, pulling his black cloak closer around his body. ‘We’d best keep
it from Meg though, she’s close to cracking.’
‘Oh, she complains
a lot, but she’s tough,’ said the elf. ‘You should see her in Council
meetings.’
‘To be
honest, I’m not that far away from cracking myself. I don’t need a half-crazed
fressle on my hands as well. We’d better be gentle with her tomorrow.’
‘Of course.’
‘I don’t
know how we go on without Broddor now. How can we? It’s... I don’t know, he was
the heart and soul of the Company.’
‘We go on,
by going on, Roz. Despite how it may feel sometimes, we are doing important
work here. Everything we learn on this island, if we can get it home, will be
of great worth. If we can prevent some sort of unholy alliance between the
dragons here and Garumuda then perhaps even Broddor’s death will have been
worth it.’
‘Maybe, Ghene,’
replied Roztov. Then sat in silence for a while after that, watching the
harbour lights.
Ghene and
Roztov took the last watch and woke Meggelaine just before dawn.
‘It’s your
watch, sweetie,’ said Roztov as he gently shook her shoulder.
‘You are all
dressed, where are you going?’
‘Just for a
little look around. Nothing serious.’
‘Don’t go
anywhere near that tower,’ she said as she sat up from her little bed and
rubbed her eyes. ‘I know what you are like. You and Ghene will be drawn to it
like moths to a flame. A giant tower full of Etruna-knows-what, it’s
irresistible to fools like you.’
‘We won’t go
near it.’
‘Think of
poor Broddor. None of us are indestructible.’
‘I know,’ he
said as he ruffled her hair, ‘We need to scout though. We can’t just sail away
from this place, not without being spotted. We need to gather information.’
Meggelaine
sighed. ‘Pass me my tunic. Well, go then, if you must, but if you love me, then
take care.’
‘We will,’
said Roztov. As he leaned over to get her shirt he gave her a kiss on the
forehead. ‘See you later sweetie.’
Ghene was
already waiting for Roztov on the roof. ‘All good?’
‘She’s on
edge, but surviving. Anyway, let’s go.’
They turned
into rock lizards and scampering from rooftop to rooftop they headed directly
towards the huge central tower of Stovologard.
Meggelaine
and Tankle shared a room, but when she woke, she noticed that Tankle was not
around. Arrin was still asleep where them men’s bedroom was, snoring quietly.
With no one to make breakfast for, after she was dressed and had eaten, she
went downstairs to the room where the big double bed had been found. As she
suspected, Tankle was asleep in it with Floran. She did not wake them, but with
nothing better to do she started trying a few doors to see what was to be seen.
She went
down another floor and reaching up to the handle, found a door that lead into
what would have once been quite a fine apartment. In a glass cabinet she saw
what looked like a decent dinner service.
‘I’ll take
this upstairs,’ she said to herself. ‘They can eat off this, the bunch of
savages, leaving crumbs everywhere.’
Meggelaine
started sorting through some of the cups, saucers and plates. It all had sat
here for years, but she could see it was good quality. She hummed a little tune
as she worked, then stopped as she notice a little girl watching her from the
doorway. She was dressed in a long black cloak, but her hood and mask were
pulled back. Like many of the people Meggelaine saw around here she had a black
line of soot across her eyes.
‘Oh hello
dear,’ said Meggelaine. ‘Oops. You won’t understand a word I’m saying.’
Meggelaine
noticed the girl had a dirty bandage on her left hand. ‘Let’s take a look at
that dear. Come closer, I won’t harm you.’
The girl
hesitated, but who she saw before her, was so small and childlike as to appear
utterly harmless. She said something in draconic that Meggelaine didn’t
understand. The girl watched as this miniature woman approached her and took
her hand. Meggelaine unwound the dirty bandage and looked at the infected wound
beneath it.
‘Oh, that
must be terribly sore. Let me heal that for you.’
The girl
gasped as blue light began to glow between their hands, but did not draw away.
‘That feels
better doesn’t it?’ asked Meggelaine as the wound healed.
The girl
held up her hand and smiled in wonder. She then looked down at the fressle and
walked back to the door. She gestured to Meggelaine to follow her.
‘Well, fine
dear,’ said the fressle, ‘but I’m coming back for that dinner set.’
After he
woke, Floran kissed Tankle goodbye and went down into the streets to buy food.
He was the only one that spoke the language and had learned to pass himself off
as someone from the south. When he returned at lunchtime he found Meggelaine
had set up another clinic. Tankle had been pressed into acting as a nurse again
and met Floran on the stairs as he came up, carrying two bags of shopping.
‘She’s at it
again, Tup,’ said Tankle.
Floran
sighed and entered the room that Meggelaine was using. There were two men
there, one of whom was sat on the floor as the little fressle looked in his
mouth.
‘If Roztov
catches you doing this you’ll get into trouble Meg,’ said Floran. ‘He’ll
probably say that if word gets about that there is some kind of magical midget
in this house then you’ll bring the gendarmes down on us, don’t you think? I
don’t want anyone to be angry with you.’
‘I know, I
know,’ said Meggelaine, ‘But this man has an abscess the size of a quail’s egg.
Take a look.’
Floran
peered into the man’s mouth, then grimaced and took a step back.
‘Nasty.’
The man gave
him a pitiful look.
‘Well, at
least move your clinic over to the other side of the street. Then you can keep
it secret from Roz.’
‘I will, I
will. I’ll do it after I’ve attended to these men. Once you’ve put the shopping
away, go over the road and find me a good place, would you dear?’
Floran
smiled and said that he would, and left before he was given any more jobs to
do.
Later that
evening, Roztov and Ghene returned to the top floor, flying in through the
broken window. Floran and Arrin were playing cards at the table.
‘Where is
Meggelaine?’ asked Roztov.
‘She’s doing
house calls,’ replied Floran in a measured tone.
‘Oh for the
love of... I’d better go get her.’
They
returned together some time later, Roztov carrying all the small gifts
Meggelaine had received from the people she had healed.
‘You should
be more careful, Em,’ chided Roztov gently as he set down all the gifts on the
table. ‘Someone is bound to tell on us.’
‘Well, you
two went to that tower didn’t you?’ she retorted tartly. ‘Didn’t you?’
She gave
Roztov and Ghene both a pointed look.
‘We did,’
admitted Roztov. ‘But it was all fine. Let’s just eat dinner, shall we?’
That
evening, their main room that was now filled with more furniture, dragged
through from other abandoned rooms. None of it was in very good condition, but it
was usable. Tankle and Arrin sat at a table playing a board game that they were
making up the rules for. Meggelaine, Roztov and Ghene talked together, sat on
the armchairs by the fire. Floran sat at the back of the room, in his favourite
place where it was darkest. All of them were still eating.
‘The tower
is incredible,’ admitted Ghene. ‘Bigger than one of the Dynarian mariners
tower’s of legend. There are no armed
men there, they hardly need gendarmes to guard them, but there are plenty of
human servants attending to their needs. Lots of rock lizards too, running
errands and delivery messages. Each dragon has their own retinue of servants,
sometimes in their own livery. We saw a lot of coming and going.’
‘Anything
that might help us?’ asked Meggelaine.
‘Nothing
today, but it’s where everything happens. It’s the centre of the city.’
‘Probably
spent most of your time arguing over the crafting of pillars,’ she muttered.
‘In actual
fact, you raise an interesting point,’ said Roztov. ‘Who indeed crafted that
entire edifice? There are carvings reminiscent of the Chasm, and yet it all
much newer. I saw some human mason’s carrying out repairs and they knew what
they were doing. It must be aided by magic to stand so tall and we did see some
dragons using magic.’
‘But most do
not,’ said Ghene. ‘Perhaps they number the same small amount as in the nations
of men. We’ve not come across any areas of the tower dedicated to the study of
magic though. Perhaps they don’t.’
‘We’ll find
out at some point,’ said Roztov before returning to the topic of architecture. ‘They
have these big long halls, with tall vaulted ceilings. The dragons keep their
own chambers. Some are organised into broods while the nobles have virtual
palaces all to themselves. On the higher levels there are, well, how to
describe them, like town squares, where the dragons meet and discuss things.’
‘We didn’t
go all the way up,’ said Ghene. ‘It was reminiscent of the Spire though, in
layout. Slightly less refined in appearance, more solid.’
‘We talked
to some of the other rock lizards too, they are a happy lot. They have no
knowledge of their kin in the Chasm. The serve the dragons only for the joy of
it,’ said Roztov.
‘And yet,
not all their servants are so happy,’ added Ghene. ‘We saw a dragon throw one
of its human servants from the window for some minor slight. They punish the
humans too, by incinerating them. I talked to a woman who told me that if one
of them falls pregnant they have to hide it or the dragons will kill them. They
want to keep the human population down, perhaps because there are too many to
feed, I’m not sure, and they slay any woman within the tower who they find with
child. They smuggle their babies down into the tenements to be raised as
foundlings.’
‘That’s
horrible,’ said Meggelaine. ‘This place...’
‘It’s
dreadful, but think about this, compared to countries like Lunaria or Gnarlwold
back in Nillamandor the people here are still better off. Better fed for a
start.’
‘Oh, don’t bring
up Gnarlwold Ghene, I’m at the end of my tether as it is.’
The
conversation stopped for a while as a tin of biscuits was passed around.
Roztov
looked over the back of his chair, offering the tin back to the others. ‘Are
you still awake, Tup?’
‘Still here,
yes,’ replied the wizard, waving the tin away.
‘What news of
the harbour, what news on the streets?’
Floran
cleared his throat then gave his report. ‘Things seem normal, well, normal for
this place. People are getting on with their lives. I heard talk of the dragons
we killed today, but it was discussed with no great urgency.’
‘Surely they
must have every gendarme in the city looking for us after that though?’
‘Yes, but
they think we we’re Spire dragons in disguise. From what I gather from
listening to the gossip at the dole carts it is attributed to Spire dragon agitators,
these things are not uncommon apparently and since the recent escalation of war
with the south such an attack had been expected.’
‘I suppose
that makes sense.’
‘Apparently
the Spire has always been sending spies into Stovologard,’ continued Floran,
warming to the theme, but not rising from his couch. ‘Dragon’s in disguise,
like Mordran, that’s why some of the Stovologard dragons have those blue
talismans, as a means of detection.’
‘But they
are still looking for us?’ asked Roztov.
‘Yes, but
they are trying to detect dragons disguised as men, which we are not. That may
help us stay hidden. The feeling I get is that no one would ever believe that people
would be powerful enough to fight dragons head on.’
‘Could be,’
mused Roztov. ‘Tomorrow, ask about why there so many empty and derelict
apartments. Stovologard feels past its prime, I wonder what happened.’
‘I can, but
I don’t think anyone knows. They keep no history and learning is not
encouraged,’ replied Floran with a hint of scorn in his voice.
‘It is
passing strange,’ said Roztov munching on a honey-coated biscuit. ‘I hope we
get to stay long enough for me to understand how this city actually works.’
The next
morning they ate breakfast together, sweet honey rolls and a form of jellied
fruit that was thick and chewy.
‘They eat
this for breakfast?’ asked Meggelaine. ‘It has an earthy taste. Blackberries
went into this I think.’
‘Try one of
these cakes, there is something that tastes like chocolate in it,’ said Floran
passing over a paper bag.
‘This is
good, I think that might actually be real cocoa in it, and some kind of fruit.
When you go out, ask them what went into these will you?’
Floran bowed
and said that he would. He was too polite to point out to Meggelaine that this
was not information that anyone needed to achieve any of their current goals,
just as he had not pointed out the night before to Roztov that his questions
about social history and architecture were also of limited value to their
current predicament. When he went out into the streets and talked to the
friendly people there, in truth he spent a lot of his time talking of
inconsequential matters. Floran was quiet by nature, and draconic was not his
native tongue, but he felt he was doing his best. The first thing he planned to
find out was how the pieces moved on the game board they had discovered in an
abandoned apartment and what the symbols on all the playing cards meant.
Floran was
first to leave, taking two empty bags with him. As she tidied up the breakfast
things, Meggelaine chatted away to her fellow druids. ‘Listen, I was thinking
Roz, if you must go into that tower, why not find that girlfriend of yours and
see if she can help us?’
‘Shumakkak?’
asked Roztov as he swallowed a mouthful of roll, ‘but she’s a chasm dragon, how
can she help us here?’
‘Not her,
you dolt, the other one!’
‘You mean Lorkuvan?’
‘Etruna’s
love!’ groaned Meggelaine. ‘How many other dragon girlfriends do you have? Go
find her, see if she can help.’
‘Yes,’
joined in Ghene. ‘We need to know what’s
going on. Roz, hunt down that dragon you shagged.’
Roztov put
down the roll he was eating. ‘Ghene is using Stykian slang words on me now.
Listen, you two. Firstly, I did not shag Lorkuvan. Secondly, she could be
anywhere, and thirdly she may owe me a favour, but are dragons known for the
returning of favours? Not that I know of.’
‘It’s worth
a try though,’ said Meggelaine.
‘I agree.
She’s a diplomat, correct? She must have some sense then. I’m sure if she’s in
the tower we can find her. You should talk to her. Find out if she knows
anything. We need to know what’s going on.’
‘Don’t get
distracted,’ sighed Meggelaine. ‘If you find out anything about you-know-who
that’s fine, but getting off this island is the most important thing. I can’t
take much more of this and its Arrin and Tankle I feel sorry for.’
The
conversation stopped for a while as Meggelaine joined the other two at the fire
with three bottles of stout. They popped the corks and each took a swig.
‘Cheers. This
is barely drinkable,’ said Roztov. ‘I could murder a cup of tea.’
‘Shagging
dragons. Who is going to believe it when we get back?’ said Meggelaine in a
sudden outburst of laughter. ‘Well, what was it like then? I’m surprised
Broddor never asked you.’
‘He knew I am
a gentleman,’ replied Roztov primly. ‘And I would never reveal the secrets
between a man and err... a dragon. Well, regardless of the circumstances I hold
it as a general rule never to bandy around a ladies name.’
‘Get her,’
said Meggelaine pointing her thumb at her friend. She was about to say
something about what his wife’s opinion on the subject might be, but then
thought better of it and held her tongue, something that for Meggelaine was a
considerable achievement.
After they
had finished breakfast, Ghene and Roztov returned to the tower of Stovologard
once again, disguised as rock lizards. They split up and worked their way
through the floors and stairwells, looking for anything they could find that
might lead them to Lorkuvan.
Roztov
thought they had no chance of finding her, reasoning that she might not even be
in the tower anyway, so instead spent most of the day examining the
architecture and asking the other rock lizards about it.
He was
hanging out in the impressive entranceway of a dragon’s apartment when a tall
man in expensive looking robes came out with a rolled up parchment and waved it
at him. ‘You there!’ said the man. ‘You look like a fine fellow, can you
deliver this for me?’
Roztov the
rock lizard looked up at the man. ‘Where to?’
‘Three
levels up, the apartment of Lady Fiewa. It has a blue door, ask for directions
when you get to the third floor. You know your numbers?’
As the man
talked he fastened a collar around Roztov’s neck then tucked the scroll into a
slit in the leather.
‘No
worries,’ said Roztov getting into character. ‘You can count on me, boss.’
‘Good chap,
there will be a bowl of scraps in it for you.’
Roztov
scampered off and had no great difficulty in finding the apartment of Lady
Fiewa. It did indeed have a blue door, tall and decorated in lapis lazuli. He had no way of
opening it, so merely scampering up it and through the ventilation gap above it
into the courtyard beyond.
His breath was taken away by what he saw on the other side, a green
marble space, with tall ferns and orchids growing in pots the size of
cauldrons. There was a fountain in the middle of the space and the sound of
trickling water drew him towards it. It was like being in the opulent garden of
a Stykian noble. There were hundreds of plants, big and small, the marble
columns had well tended ivy climbing up them, and there was even an area of grass
near a set of tall windows. It was a whole other world from the smoky city just
a few hundred meters below.
There was a young man re-potting plants not far from the fountain. He
looked up as Roztov approached. ‘Yes?’
‘Message for
Lady Fiewa, boss,’ he replied, pointing at the collar on his neck, still
enjoying being in the character of a cheeky rock lizard.
‘Just go in,’
said the young man, pointing at a doorway with his trowel.
Roztov
scampered up some steps and through the open doorway. There was an elegant corridor
beyond it, with tall paintings mounted along one wall, landscapes depicting
scenes from around the island of Tanud. Whoever had painted them had an eye for
beautiful scenes, mused Roztov as he paused to admire them. Here was one of a
quaint mountain village, with its tall roofs, there was one depicting a sunset over
the Chasm, the Spire a silhouette in the distance.
He was
admiring another picture, trying to figure out whereabouts it could be
depicting when a female voice from the other end of the corridor spoke. ‘It’s
the forest south of the Chasm, a mountain called Eldernarra is what you see in
the distance. I’ve never known rock lizards to be interested in art.’
Roztov
turned to see a tall lady, in her early sixties, dressed in a green velvet
gown, with long white hair tied back in a braid. ‘Oh, sorry, lady. Got a
message for you.’
Come into
the study, said the lady as she turned and left. Roztov scampered along behind
her and entered another, smaller, area that was also full of plants, but had a
writing desk and several bookcases in one corner. There was an open window
across from the desk that offered a view north across the city to the fog wall
beyond the harbour. She went to it and beckoned him up onto the windowsill. He
raised his head and she unfastened the collar from his neck.
‘Go to the
kitchen my lad, the cook will give you some scraps.’
‘Oh aye,
fair enough,’ said Roztov, but his eyes were still drawn to the view. There was
a strong wind blowing from the south and this was the clearest view he had of
the city since he had got here. It was incredibly impressive, in a ramshackle
sort of way. He could see thousands of tenement buildings, there black roofs
all leaning in on each other like drunks at a wake. His eyes followed the lines
of the streets, he thought he could see where they had fought against Neith,
then carefully he traced the route he thought led to where they were now
living.
Lady Fiewa
had finished reading her message and looked up. ‘You linger?’
‘I can see
me house from here.’
‘You are an
unusual sort of fellow for a rock lizard,’ she said as she walked back over to
the window. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Err...
Roztov.’
‘You are a
city lizard?’
‘I guess so,
probably,’ replied Roztov. ‘Tell you what though, how come you have such a
fancy apartment, seeing are you are not a dragon? I like your garden.’
‘You do, do
you?’ she said as she looked him in the eyes with a curious expression.
Roztov,
realising he was probably slipping out of character hopped down from the windowsill
and made for the door. ‘Anyway, kitchen, and all that. Cook, is it? Scraps,
yummy yum yum.’
‘Just one
moment,’ said the lady as she raised her arms to cast a spell. Yellow light
surrounded Roztov and he gulped, ‘hey steady on’ as he turned to look at her.
As he
turned, he grew taller, until he was a man again. He held up his hands, palms
out to show he meant no harm. ‘I’m not here to cause trouble.’
He flinched
as Lady Fiewa raised her hands to cast another spell.
