Eona: The Last Dragoneye

CHAPTER THREE

IT WAS DARK by the time our cart lurched to a standstill in the courtyard of the Laosang village inn. The sudden lack of noise sharpened the sounds around us: Haddo ordering his men to their billeting duties, the low of our hungry oxen, and the clang of kitchen pots. Soft yellow light edged the canopy and brought more detail into the cart. Vida had wedged herself upright between two of the larger traveling baskets. Her pale face was hollow from exhaustion. Throughout the long day, I had been lulled into uneasy naps by our slow swaying progress and the patter of intermittent rain on the canopy. Vida, however, had made a point of staying awake the whole time. I scrubbed at my eyes, strangely irritated by her stoicism.

The front hatch slid open and Dela peered in at us.

“I will arrange for a room, wife.” Every crease on her face was marked with dark dirt, like the painted lines of an opera mask. “You, Vida, see to your mistress and then come and help Solly clean the cart and prepare it for tomorrow.”

A good plan, especially as most of Haddo’s men would be busy with their own needs for an hour or so. We met one another’s eyes, silently acknowledging the risk.

“Here is your cloak, mistress,” Vida said, forcing brightness into her voice. She handed me the garment. “You must wrap up against the night air.”

Dela was waiting for me as I clambered out of the cart. She offered her hand, in her role as husband, and frowned with concern as I sagged against her body.

“Are you all right?” she whispered in my ear, bracing me.

“It’s just travel cricks,” I said. Then I caught the aroma of meat and rich gravy. My empty stomach clenched into a growl. All nausea gone. “By the gods, I’m hungry.”

The magnificent smell was coming from the inn’s tavern across the courtyard. The two-story building formed one side of the large cobbled compound, a space that could easily take eight of our carts side by side, and just as many lengthwise. Out in front of the tavern were three rows of wet eating benches, all empty. Red paper lamps were strung under the eaves, and the ground floor shutters were open to catch the cooler night air, showing a few patrons eating at long tables inside.

I pulled toward the promise of food, but Dela stood firm.

“We cannot eat in there,” she said.

Of course: a rich merchant couple would take a private room, especially if they were on pilgrimage. I slumped back against Dela.

A thickset man — the innkeeper, by his striped outer robe— had emerged from the tavern and was making his way toward us. He paused every now and again to brusquely direct soldiers to the two low-set buildings on either side of the gateway. From the blessing flags that hung across the windows, I could tell the buildings were normally used as pilgrim dormitories. Now they were barracks.

“We need to move the cart,” I murmured to Dela.

She grunted assent, then nudged me back a step. I winced at such a basic mistake — a good wife always stood behind her husband. The innkeeper approached and bowed, his eyes registering Dela’s heavy waist pouch and my fine linen robe.

“Greetings, good sir, and welcome,” he said. “It is a relief to see at least one paying customer.” A wry smile softened his words. “Are you seeking rooms? I can offer you as many as you want for an excellent price.” He lowered his voice. “This trouble in the city is dreadful for business. And coupled with these bad floods and earthshakes, no one is traveling if they can help it.” His eyes found my white robe again. Realizing his blunder, he quickly added, “Your wife’s devotion to her duty, even in such dangerous times, does you great honor.”

Dela nodded at the tacit apology. “One room will be enough, thank you.”

The innkeeper bowed again. “And dinner? My own wife makes an excellent pilgrim meal. We can serve it in your room.” He tilted his head at the passing soldiers. “You’ll not want to venture downstairs once they get into the rice wine.”

“Yes, we’ll take dinner,” Dela said. “My servants can have whatever is being served in your tavern.” She looked around the compound, then motioned the innkeeper closer. “I mean no offense, my good man, but is there somewhere safer I can put my cart? My servants will stay with it, of course, but I would prefer to have it out of this main thoroughfare.”

“Out of harm’s way,” the innkeeper agreed. “I have a stable around the back with room enough for your oxen and cart. For a small fee I can feed the beasts, too.”

“Accepted,” Dela said, touching forehead and heart to seal the bargain.

The innkeeper repeated the gesture, then nodded at Vida standing quietly behind us, a traveling basket in her arms. “A word of warning: I wouldn’t make your girl sleep in the cart, even if your man does.” He rubbed his forehead. “I can put a pallet in your room for her.”

“For a small cost?” Dela asked blandly.

The innkeeper laughed. “No cost, good sir, no cost. I would not have any female at risk in my establishment. She can eat in the kitchen, too.”

“That is very kind,” Dela said, bowing.

“You,” the innkeeper called to Solly. “Take the cart around the back to the first stable.” Then he motioned for us to follow him to the lodging house.

I stayed one step behind Dela and kept my head down. Even so, I managed to see Solly lead the oxen and cart along a narrow alley between the main house and the compound wall. It seemed our luck had finally changed; with the cart hidden in a back stable, Solly would have plenty of time to help Ryko slip away to find the Pearl Emperor.

Yet a small voice inside me whispered that it was too easy. My disquiet doubled at the sight of Lieutenant Haddo watching us from across the courtyard, a still figure among the industry of his men. If he discovered Ryko, I had no doubt he would put the puzzle together and realize we were his quarry. There was a keen mind behind that youthful façade. And if he did unmask us, then it would come down to a fight. Five against twenty. His eyes met mine, a sweet concern in his face. I looked away — the modest goodwife — my heartbeat hard in my chest.

The innkeeper held aside the red door flags of the lodging house and ushered us inside. I hurriedly followed Dela over the raised threshold into a foyer that was little more than a corridor and stairwell. Gone was the rich enticement of stewed meat and gravy. Instead, the smell of rancid matting soured the air, the burn of fish oil from two dirty wall lamps adding to the stench. At the end of the passage, a back doorway opened to an outside area — judging from the tang of manure on the slight night breeze, it led to the stable yard. Somewhere out there Solly was stabling the oxen, waiting for a chance to free Ryko.

Vida and the innkeeper entered the narrow space, and I was forced back against the edge of a steep staircase, its handrail patched with mismatched wood. I caught Dela’s eye; she had covered her nose and mouth with her hand, trying to hide her disgust. Beside the luxury of her palace home, this place was a hovel. Still, it was good compared to some of the inns my master and I had endured five years ago.

The unwelcome memory cut through me like acid. Even though my master was dead, his betrayal was still raw. That long-ago journey was before he had deliberately had me crippled; I was newly delivered from the slavery of the salt farm, learning to act like a boy, and reveling in the freedom to move without the bite of a whip or the weight of a salt bag. Then my master secretly arranged to have my hip broken to hide my sex and make me untouchable. All in the pursuit of the power and money he craved. In the end, he regretted causing me such pain — he told Chart as much — and even came to love me in his own way. Perhaps now that I was healed and had the power of a dragon, I should forgive him. Yet my rage was as hollowing and hot as ever.

The innkeeper unhooked one of the oil lamps and climbed the stairs. We filed up behind him, me struggling with my long gown, Vida straining under the weight of the traveling basket.

The air was no better on the second floor; the day’s damp warmth had carried the fishy stink throughout the house. The innkeeper led us along a short passageway that ran between the sleeping chambers, each divided from its neighbor by paper walls. There would be no unguarded talk tonight.

“My best room,” he said, sliding open a flimsy screen. “Since there are no other guests, I’ve put you at the back of the house, so you won’t get the tavern noise.”

It was surprisingly spacious. Two bedrolls rested against the far wall, ready to be laid out, and a low eating table stood in the center. There was no rancid straw matting — a godsend— although the large gaps in the bare planked floor let in weak lamplight from the foyer below. A stained screen in the corner shielded a night bowl from the sleeping area, and a shuttered window promised fresh air.

The innkeeper hung the lamp on a hook just inside the doorway and bowed us into our accommodation.

“I’ll have your dinner and the extra pallet brought up by next bell,” he said.

Another pleased bow took him from the room. We waited in silence until his footsteps descended the stairs and were lost in the lower level of the house.

Finally judging it to be safe, Dela murmured, “Vida and I will go and help Solly.”

“What about me? What can I do?”

“You’ll have to stay here. No merchant woman would enter a stable, let alone wander an inn by herself.” She saw the rebellion in my eyes. “I know it is frustrating, but only a whore or a servant girl would venture downstairs, especially with these soldiers about. You must stay in character.”

“I know, Respectable Woman Overcome with Grief,” I said sourly. “Maybe I can keep watch for you.” I crossed to the window and pushed open the shutters, but the view was of a ramshackle building beyond the compound wall, lit ghostly by the three-quarter moon. The room did not overlook the stable yard.

Dela patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll be back soon.”

Reluctantly, I nodded. “Tell him ‘good fortune,’ then.”

With one last squeeze of my shoulder, Dela headed into the corridor. Vida dumped her basket on the ground and, without a backward glance, followed. Their two shadows moved along the paper wall and disappeared.

For a mad moment, I wanted to run after Dela and tell her she should wait until the inn was asleep to free Ryko. Then again, perhaps this was the right time, when Haddo and his men were setting up their camp, and a bondservant cleaning out a cart would blend into the background.

I slid shut the screen door and surveyed the room again. The place suddenly felt like a prison. I counted my paces across the room: eighteen. Twelve took me its length. For almost five years I had lived as a boy, and even as a lowly candidate I’d had more freedom than this role as a woman. I should be downstairs, helping Ryko, not measuring a room with my feet. I grabbed a handful of my long gown; even the clothes were designed to hinder movement. With the hem tucked into the sash, it made walking easier, but I still had nowhere to go.

I pulled off the mourning headdress and dug my fingertips into the tight coronet of braids; either Dela or Vida had taken care to weave my hair into the style of a grieving mother. At the salt farm, I had seen my friend Dolana do the same for a woman whose son had died from the Weeping Sickness. Although we had tried to comfort the poor woman and observe the death rituals, her grief had grown into madness until she had torn out her own hair and blinded herself with salt.

My thoughts returned to Lieutenant Haddo. A kind man, obviously touched by a son’s death himself, but still a soldier with orders to capture me and kill my friends. I tossed the headdress onto a bedroll and crossed the room again. Our pilgrim masquerade seemed like a flimsy shield against such ruthlessness. One mistake, one tiny moment of inattention, could destroy us all. Still, I was practiced in pretense; lying for my life was second nature.

My restless pacing was interrupted by the arrival of a serving girl. She hauled in the promised pallet and murmured a timid reassurance that our food was on its way.

When she was gone, I squatted under the lamp and unwound the pliant black pearls from my arm to release Kinra’s journal. There was no use dwelling on the threat of Haddo and his men. It merely stoked my fear. Instead, I forced myself to study a page of the precious folio, recognizing only one of the faded characters: Duty.

In the few days of recuperation at the fisher house, Dela had started to teach me Woman Script. It was usually passed down from mother to daughter, but I had been sold into bond service before I was taught its secrets. My progress with it was painfully slow, the task of reading the uncoded parts of the journal complicated by the ancient form of the script. Even Dela was having trouble translating it, and I still knew only ten or so characters, not enough to discover what I desperately needed to know: how to control my power and ward off the ten bereft dragons.

The soft sibilance of voices broke my concentration. Were Dela and Vida back already? I strained to hear who was talking— two men, in the foyer below. Not my friends, then. I pushed the folio back under my sleeve. The pearls slithered up behind it and held the small book tightly against my forearm.

On hands and knees, I pressed my eye to a generous gap in the planking. Below me, all I could see was the dimly lit foyer wall and floor. Whoever was talking was out of my sightline, and too far away for their words to be distinguished. Did I dare creep to the stairwell and listen? Dela would be furious if she found out I had left the room. But there was no real danger— I could run back to safety if anyone mounted the stairs. And maybe I would hear something useful rather than just waiting for the others to return.

Gathering my skirt, I stood and carefully slid the screen door open. The corridor was clear. As I edged closer to the top of the staircase, one of the muffled voices sharpened into Haddo’s crisp authority.

“… and I’ll need to restock with rice and some of that salted fish. Same as before.”

“I haven’t been paid for the last lot.” It was the innkeeper, his tone rising into peevish complaint.

“You’ll get it on our next pass over the mountain,” Haddo said. “Right now, my problem is hungry men, so have the supplies ready. We’re moving out at the dawn bell.” There was a pause and then Haddo asked, “Tell me, do you know the whereabouts of the merchant who arrived with us?”

“I think he’s out back overseeing the stabling of his animals.

Why, is something amiss? They don’t bring more misfortune with them, do they? I gave them my best room, too.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure the lady’s misfortune will not taint you or your inn.” The lieutenant’s voice was wry. “I just want to offer them an escort tomorrow. That door leads to the stable yard, doesn’t it? Or must I go round?”

My heartbeat quickened. If Haddo went outside now, there was a chance he would see Ryko. I tried to estimate how much time had passed since Dela and Vida had left the room; not even a quarter bell. It was possible that Ryko was still being freed. We could not risk it; just a glimpse of the islander would give us all away. I had to stop Haddo. A few short steps took me to the top of the staircase, Dela’s warning loud in my head. She was right. I could not go downstairs; no respectable woman would approach two men by herself. I had to stay in character.

“All I’m saying is she’s got the markings of a lost one,” the innkeeper said. “I’ve seen a lot of them on their way to and from the Moon Lady Waters, and some of them never come right. He’d be better to return her to her parents and move on to one who can produce a living son.”

I clutched the handrail, his harsh words bringing a sudden, desperate idea.

“Keep your voice down, man,” Haddo said, lowering his own. I strained to hear his next words. “… to the Moon Lady Waters as fast as possible. It worked for my wife.”

“I meant no disrespect,” the innkeeper said hurriedly. “Your wife was one of the blessed. Maybe this girl will be, too. Go straight through, it takes you into the yard. The merchant is in the far stable.”

If ever there was a time for skillful pretense, this was it. I yanked a few of my braids loose and, with a mute prayer to the gods, pushed myself forward, bundling my tucked skirt even higher above my ankles.

“Is that you, husband?” I called, running down the stairs. “I have seen him, husband. I have seen our son!”

As I rounded the tight landing, I saw the startled, upturned faces of Haddo and the innkeeper. I smiled and directed my quavering words at the lieutenant. “He is in our room, husband. You must come now.”

I took the last of the stairs and grabbed Haddo by the arm, trying to tug him up the first step. The man was immovable. “He is crying, poor little man, and wants his father.”

A silent, horrified exchange crossed between Haddo and the innkeeper; She is mad, it said. What do we do? I tugged at him again. Men were always quick to believe in the madness of women.

Haddo peeled my hand off his arm. “Madam, I am not your husband. I am Lieutenant Haddo. Do you remember me?”

“Of course I remember you, husband.” I smiled into his pity. “What a strange thing to ask. Come now, before our boy returns to his sleep.”

“I’ll get her upstairs, sir,” the innkeeper said. “You go get her husband.”

They had to be kept from the stable yard. I pictured the wretched ravings of the bereft mother at the salt farm. “Look, he runs out to play,” I said, hoping they could not hear the desperation in my voice. “Come back, son.” Praying that both men would follow, I pushed past Haddo, batting my way through the door flags into the main courtyard.

“Wait, son. Wait for Mother.” I aimed my words at a trio of soldiers walking close by. They turned, eyeing me with surprise.

“It is too dark to play outside,” I added loudly, focusing on the young man in the center. “Come inside.”

I felt his attention sharpen. “All right, let’s go inside and play.”

On either side, his companions sniggered, their approval sending him across the few lengths that separated us.

“What do you charge, girl?” He caught my wrist and jerked me against his body. One hand found my waist, the other brushed across my breast. I froze, his touch bringing another stark memory from the salt farm: the grabbing hands of the whipmaster, and Dolana kicking him away.

“Let her go.”

It was Haddo. The clipped command sent the soldier into a tense salute. Suddenly free of his restraint, I stumbled. Haddo’s iron grip caught my arm and held me up from the cobbled paving.

“Sorry, sir,” the soldier said. His friends edged back into the shadows. “I thought she was one of the local—”

“Use your eyes, Laon, not your prick. She’s wearing a mourning robe.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Practice your observation skills on guard duty. Now!”

The soldier saluted again and was gone. Haddo, his grip still tight around my arm, peered into my face.

“Madam? Are you all right?”

There was no doubt he could see the sanity in my eyes; I could not keep conjuring madness under such scrutiny.

“Lieutenant Haddo,” I said, frowning. “What am I doing outside? Why do you hold me?”

He let go of my arm. “You were”—he paused—”indisposed. But I see that you have now come back to yourself.”

I studied the ground, avoiding his keen eyes. “I do not remember.”

“It is sometimes like that,” he said, and awkwardly patted my shoulder. “My wife thought she could feel the breath of our boy on her cheek. It will get better.”

“Where is she?” It was Dela’s voice, coming from the lodging house.

The innkeeper’s bulk pushed the door flags apart. “This way, in the courtyard,” he said, leading Dela through the doorway. “You should not have left her without her maid. I can’t have madwomen running around my inn.”

“She is not mad,” Dela said, reaching into the pouch tied at her waist. “It is just grief and the rigors of the journey. Here, a small sum to ease your inconvenience.” She passed a coin to the innkeeper, then saw me beside Haddo. “Lieutenant, I believe you have also been of assistance to my wife. I thank you, and am sorry for your trouble.” She bowed, the courtesy stiff with anger. I had a feeling it was not part of her act.

Haddo returned the bow. “No trouble, sir. And no harm has come to her, although I suggest you do not leave her alone at this time.”

Dela gripped my arm tightly. “Come, wife. Let me take you back to the comfort of our room.” She pulled me toward the doorway, nodding once to the lieutenant. “Again, my thanks.”

Vida was waiting inside the lodging house foyer, holding the bundle that held my swords and compass.

“Do you think only of yourself?” she hissed, thrusting the bundle into my hands. “You put us all at risk.”

For a moment I closed my eyes, absorbing the familiar jolt of Kinra’s angry energy through the cloth. I knew Vida’s tongue was sharpened by grief and fear, but the unfair charge still stung. She had not heard Haddo’s intentions. Who was she to judge my every action? I clenched my fist, transfixed by an image of driving it into her face. Abruptly I turned and followed Dela upstairs, startled by the violence of my resentment.

At the landing, Dela turned to Vida. “Stay here,” she whispered. “Let me know if anyone comes into the house, front or back.”

Vida gave a sharp nod and pressed herself against the wall. “I know how to follow orders.”

I trailed behind Dela and braced myself as she slid the screen door closed behind us. Dressed as a man, her sharp features and spare frame lent her a stern handsomeness that had hardened into fury.

Two strides and she was upon me. “That was beyond foolhardy,” she said against my ear, each word like a slap. “I thought you had some sense. And yet you put yourself — you put us all— in danger!”

I hugged Kinra’s swords, my own fury rising. “Haddo was going to the stables in search of you. I had to do something. Or would you rather I sit by and let him find—” Caution made me stop, my abrupt silence also checking Dela. Our voices had become too intense.

She took a deep breath, then whispered, “In search of me? Why?”

“He wants to offer us an escort to the next village.”

Dela shook her head. “That’s bad news.”

I nodded. “At least our friend has gone, hasn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“And he is all right?”

“He has not been ‘all right’ since the village.” Her low voice was harsh. She pressed her palms against her eyes. “Forgive me, I am tired. He is well enough. And on his way.” With an effort, she rallied her authority. “You must promise you will not put yourself in danger again. We cannot afford to lose you.”

“I had to do something.”

“No, Eona, we had it in hand.” Her eyes held mine until I looked away. “At least your feigned madness will be a good excuse to stay here while Haddo and his men move on. If all goes well, we’ll know by tomorrow afternoon if our journey has been worthwhile.”

“Master,” Vida called from the passage, “the serving girl is here with your dinner. May she enter?”

Before long, the girl had set out our repast on the low table and left with Vida to show her the way to the kitchens and her own meal. I knelt on the dusty cushion opposite Dela and eyed the meager array of vegetables, rice, and pickles accompanied by a small bowl of tea to wash it down. Good pilgrim fare. It was a silent meal — with Vida in the kitchens and Solly guarding the cart, we had no lookout and could not risk a real conversation. I sensed that Dela did not want to talk, anyway. Her worry for Ryko was like another guest at the table.

After the serving girl cleared away the remains, Vida returned to the room, yawning, her fatigue so great that it blunted her hostility into clipped sentences and sidelong glances. All of us were tired and irritable with fear, but I was the only one not completely bowed by exhaustion, so I took first watch.

Both Dela and Vida were asleep as soon as they stretched out, fully clothed, on their bedrolls. I unwrapped Kinra’s swords and laid them carefully on the floor, ignoring their flare of anger. The compass had been bundled with them. I picked up the leather pouch and slid the heavy gold disc out onto my palm. It was divided into twenty-four concentric rings, the center point housing a huge round ruby and the outermost ring studded with smaller red gems at the cardinal points. The other rings were etched with pictures of the celestial animals and elegant Woman Script. The compass was meant to focus the Mirror Dragon’s energy and draw on the earth’s ley lines, but until I could use my power and read the ancient characters, it was little more than a beautiful decoration. I returned it to its cover and placed it next to the swords.

My waist pouch was next, quickly untied and laid beside the compass. Then I struggled out of my over-robe, glad to be free of it, and sat in my thin shift, listening to the faint sounds of the soldiers singing and laughing across the courtyard.

As my watch hours passed, I examined my decision to stop Haddo from entering the stable yard. Dela had called it foolhardy. Admittedly, there had been some risk, but the threat of discovery had been real. I could not have sat by while Ryko was in danger — it was not in my nature. There was a saying that the strength of a man’s steel was only known under the hammer of circumstance. If anyone had asked me a few hours ago, I would have said that nearly five years of boyhood had hammered me into constant fear and excessive caution. But now I realized it had done the opposite. It had shaped me into someone who stepped forward and reached for what she wanted. It was too late for me to tuck my hands behind my back and wait like a good woman.

Finally, at the toll of a distant midnight bell, I leaned over and shook Dela awake. She sat up immediately, groping for her knife.

“Your watch,” I whispered. “Nothing to report.”

She flashed a tired smile. “Didn’t I just lie down two minutes ago?”

“Four.” I returned her smile, glad that sleep had softened her anger and worry.

I settled back on my bed as Dela headed for the night bowl. Slowly, my focus drifted, dipping in and out of sleep, over and over again, as the inn eased into silence around us.

It was the unmistakable clash of blade against blade that brought me up on to my knees, still half asleep. The room was gray with predawn light. I struggled to my feet, listening for the direction of the threat.

Below, in the courtyard.

The sound of footsteps running along the corridor swept away my confusion. Vida was already crouched with a knife in her hand. Dela rolled off her pallet, tense and ready. I fumbled for my swords, their ancient energy burning into me.

The screen snapped open.

We all froze, gaping at the figure in the doorway.

Ryko.

The faint light from the window caught a thick wet shine across his face and chest. Blood. A lot of it.