Chapter 18 - The Tower of Stovologard (7314)

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.