Dragon and Slave

CHAPTER 23

He woke up in stages, passing from simple darkness to not-so-simple confusion, and finally to the realization that he was not at all comfortable.

"Are you awake?" Draycos's voice asked quietly in his right ear.

"I think so," Jack said, prying his eyes open.

The darkness didn't change. "Or maybe not," he amended, blinking a couple of times. He still couldn't see anything. "Where are we?"

"Back in the frying pan," Draycos told him. "You cannot see anything because it is night."

"Night?" Jack echoed, frowning. The last thing he remembered was Her Thumbleness trying her best to make a rag doll out of him. "How long was she beating on me, anyway?"

"Not long," Draycos said. "The guards came in only a few seconds after you lost consciousness. They took you away from her."

"Did anyone see you?"

"No," the dragon assured him. "I was not required to assist you in combat."

"Oh," Jack said, feeling vaguely disappointed. He'd always assumed that if things ever got seriously dangerous, his private K'da poet-warrior would be out of his collar in an instant to protect him. "Gazen ordered you returned here after the guards rescued you," Draycos went on.

"At that point I decided there was no reason to wake you. You have had very little sleep the past few days and needed the rest. In addition, I did not think there was much we could do until nightfall."

"Right on all counts," Jack said. He did feel better, actually.

Though that feeling was likely to change the minute he started moving around and found out what kind of new injuries Her Thumbleness had thoughtfully provided.

Carefully, gingerly, he probed at the ribs where the spoiled little brat had kicked him.

And got his second major surprise of the evening. The skin was definitely tender, but there was no sign of muscle or bone damage.

But that was impossible. That kick had sent him flying halfway across the room...

Frowning, he moved his fingers to his legs, and then to his shoulders. Again, there was nothing more serious than a few bruises.

"I did not fight, but I did what I could to protect you from harm," Draycos said. "When I could see where the blows would be striking, I raised my body slightly from your skin to take some of the impact on myself."

"You're kidding," Jack said, blinking in the darkness. "I didn't know you could do that."

"The ability is not common," Draycos said. "I was only rarely able to do such things with my last Shontine host, Polphir. I was never able to do so with any of my previous hosts."

"I guess K'da skills improve with age," Jack said. "You're more like wine than dogs."

"Pardon?"

"Wine improves with age," Jack explained. "And we have a saying that you can't teach an old dog new tricks."

"Can you not?"

"Can you not what?"

"Teach an old dog new tricks."

"I don't know," Jack said. "I've never owned a dog. Any idea what time it is?"

"It is likely after midnight," Draycos told him. "The noises from the house have been largely silenced."

Which meant the Chookoock family had largely gone to bed. "That's all I needed to know," Jack said, wincing as he sat up straight and pressed his back against the copper mesh. "Better check and see if the coast is clear."

He had wondered if having the mesh between his back and the metal wall would make the gap too wide for Draycos to see over. But apparently not. "There is no one currently visible," Draycos reported as he shifted around on Jack's back.

"However, from the sounds of footsteps I have heard, I believe there is a regular guard route that passes between us and the house."

That could be trouble. "How often do they come by, and how soon until the next one?"

"I do not know precisely," Draycos said. "But from counting your heartbeats as you slept, I estimate they come past four times per hour. The last one was just before you woke, so we should have at least ten more minutes."

"Good enough," Jack grunted, moving carefully in the cramped space. "Okay, here's the plan. I pick the kitchen door. We raid the slaves' storage locker for food packages and as many juice bottles as we can handle."

"You are hungry?"

"It isn't for me," Jack said, his fingers probing the edge of the copper mesh where the door met the floor. There had to be a break there somewhere, where the door swung upward.

"For Noy, then?"

"Bingo," Jack said. "I'm not going to just sit back and let him die out there.

At least, not if there's anything I can do."

"I am pleased," Draycos said softly.

Jack grimaced. "Yeah, well, don't start handing out the warm fuzzies just yet," he warned. "I'm not doing this for any noble K'da warrior ethic reasons. I just remember being sick once when Uncle Virgil had to go off on a job, that's all."

"How old were you?"

"About Noy's age," Jack said. "I was already pretty good at taking care of myself, so it shouldn't have been a problem. Only the sickness made me so weak I

couldn't go make myself any food. By the time the fever was gone, I was too dehydrated to get more than a few steps from my bed without getting dizzy. I was scared I was going to starve to death."

"What happened?"

"I died, of course."

Draycos's head rose up from his shoulder. "What?"

"Well, obviously, Uncle Virgil got back in time," Jack said with a snort.

There it was: the gap in the mesh. He wiggled his fingers through it and felt around for the similar opening under the door that he'd used in the slave hotbox to let Draycos out. "But I still remember how scared I was lying there all alone. I don't want Noy to..."

He trailed off. "What is it?" Draycos asked.

It took Jack two tries to get the words out. "There's no gap under the door," he said quietly. "At least, not one big enough for me to get my fingers under."

Draycos slid around onto Jack's right arm. "Let me see."

Jack kept his hand steady as a clawed digit lifted from his hand and probed the area. "There is an extra level of material beneath the door," the dragon said.

"Like an extra chunk of door sill," Jack agreed. "Leaves only about a quarter of an inch to spare, just enough to let some air in."

"Yes," Draycos said, the claw scratching gently at it. "Still, it is only wood.

I would have no trouble cutting through it."

"Yeah, but the guards would be bound to notice," Jack said, shaking his head.

"They'd wonder how I did that. Don't forget, so far Gazen hasn't bothered to do a real search of me and my clothes."

"Or your shoes," Draycos conceded. "A good point. We certainly do not want him to find the comm clip now."

"Not to mention the hotbox key we borrowed," Jack said. "Or you."

"No," Draycos murmured. "But perhaps there is another place where I could create an opening that would not be noticed."

"I don't know where," Jack said, turning with some difficulty and pressing his back against the side wall. "But you're more than welcome to look."

The dragon rearranged himself, and Jack felt the familiar sensation as he leaned out over the wall again. It was an awfully handy trick, that, as Jack had learned many times already. Too bad the dragon couldn't carry anything over the wall with him. If he could lean far enough outside to unlock the door, they'd be out of here in nothing flat.

But no. The dragon couldn't actually reach outside. All he could do was stretch far enough to look around.

He was certainly doing a lot of that right now. Jack could feel the sensation on his back shifting back and forth as the dragon hunted for a good spot to put their mousehole. He could feel Draycos stretching to the limit—

And then, suddenly, the dragon was gone.

Not shifted. Not moved somewhere else on Jack's skin. Gone. Lost somewhere in the fourth dimension.

Dead.

A breath caught like broken glass in Jack's throat. "Draycos!" he gasped.

And then, to his astonishment and relief, the dragon's voice came faintly through the wall. "It is all right," he said. "I am here."

Jack let his breath out in a huff. "Don't do that to me," he snapped. "Where are you?"

"I am outside," Draycos said. "I apologize for frightening you."

"You'd better apologize," Jack growled. "Why didn't you tell me you could do that?"

There was a slight pause. "Because I did not know I could," Draycos said. "In fact, I did not even know that it was possible."

Jack opened his mouth. Closed it again. "What do you mean, you didn't know it was possible?"

"To the best of my knowledge, no K'da has ever done such a thing," Draycos said.

"I believe we have made history tonight, Jack."

A bad taste was starting to collect at the back of Jack's throat. "I don't like this, Draycos," he said. "You can call it making history if you want. I call it something going wrong."

"In what way?"

"I don't know," Jack told him. "But the last couple of times you looked over walls you felt sort of loose. Like you were getting ready to slide off or something."

"Which is precisely what has just happened."

"Yes, I understand that," Jack said. "What I'm wondering is if my body is rejecting you or something. Like sometimes a person rejects an organ transplant."

There was another silence from outside. "That has also never happened in the history of my people," Draycos said. "If a species can serve as host, that ability does not change." "Only you've never tried humans as hosts before," Jack pointed out darkly.

"Who knows what quirks we might have?"

"True," Draycos admitted reluctantly. "Still, there is little we can do about it."

"Except maybe think about where we can find another host to have waiting on standby," Jack said. "If it ever happens that you can't attach to me, you've only got six hours before you die."

"I remember, thank you," Draycos said. "But for now, we still have a mission to accomplish. Can you pass the key under the door?"

"Sure," Jack said, pulling open his shoe flap and digging it out. "Do you feel sick or injured or anything?"

"I appear to be unharmed," Draycos said. "It felt very strange at the time, though."

"I'll bet," Jack grunted, sliding the key out through the narrow gap. "Here."

"I have it."

Jack hunched his shoulders to stretch them. Only now, as he waited, did it suddenly occur to him that all their work and cleverness might be for nothing.

The key he'd stolen had been to the slave hotboxes; but there was no guarantee that the frying pan didn't have a different lock entirely.

And then there came a click, and the door swung open, letting in a rush of fresh air.

Jack let out a breath. "Okay," he said, trying to sound casual. "Well. Let's get to work."