Chapter 11

What fears he that would be king of kings,
great power bound in the smallest things,
the storm woke madness in dragon’s heir,
what portent restrains that conqueror fair,
shadows they move where none should be,
seek the power of one the world shall see.

– Diary of Cassandra Alm, 338 E.R.

Fools & Errands

Coria 15th, 642 E.R.

“Is it true what I have heard,” Maraline asked of the twins as she moved to sit beside them on a bench in the upper courtyard.

“And what have you heard?” Kiannae pressed, looking up from her book.

“That the dragon they captured in Osyrae is larger than any feral dragon on record,” Maraline countered.

“I would think you would know as much as us,” Kiannae said with a shrug.

“Were it so,” Maraline said with a huff of displeasure.  “Father will not speak of the matter to me.”

“We have only Jeoffrey’s estimations,” Katrisha offered, “but the reports do imply that it is unreasonably large for a lesser dragon.  It is possible he has overstated the matter.”

“Jeoffrey may have something of Mercu’s sense of humor, but on such a sensitive matter I have not heard him to exaggerate,” Maraline countered.

“I’m not concerned,” Kiannae said.  “The bigger, the better.  It will just prove all the more dangerous when it finally breaks lose.  That will disrupt any plans they have for us.”

“And if they do tame it?” Maraline shook her head.  “Then will it be better that it is such a massive beast?”

“That has yet to happen,” Katrisha offered.  “Lesser dragons are very temperamental, with intelligence approaching that of a human.  Smart enough to know that they only have to wait till they have the advantage.”

“I have heard that lesser dragons have been tamed in Napir,” Maraline said shrewdly.

“Only by other dragons,” Katrisha countered.

“And not well tamed at that,” Kiannae added.  “They guard wide tracts of uninhabitable land, but they must be kept in check by their elders.  Rarely eat people, but I think that’s only because we are not meaty enough.”

“How, horrid,” Maraline said nervously.

“Yes, so I am not worried so much by how big the one in Osyrae is,” Kiannae pressed, coming back to her point.  “More trouble for them.  Should not be a factor for us.”

Maraline paused a moment thoughtfully.  “I had heard you two were to travel around Avrale soon.”

“There had been plans,” Katrisha acknowledged, “but I do not think Laurel wished to, and present circumstances have given him excuse to postpone such a trip.”

“Wise nonetheless,” Maraline offered.

“I was looking forward to traveling,” Kiannae said a bit melancholy.  “To actually see more of Avrale.”

“It is a shame, though I do love returning to Broken Hill,” Marline mused.

“How was your time in South Rook?” Katrisha asked.

“Lovely,” Maraline said with a knowing smile.  “I find the urge to walk, would either of you care to join me?  I’ll tell you more.”

“I think I shall finish my book,” Kiannae answered.

“I thought you wished to see more of Avrale?” Maraline chided.

“I’m well acquainted with the castle, the rest of this book seems less familiar territory,” Kiannae countered with a laugh.

“You’ve already read that one,” Katrisha cut back.

“Still, less familiar,” Kiannae said a bit tersely.

“I’ll come,” Katrisha offered.  “Since my sister is growing roots in the ground.”  Kiannae scrunched her nose up at the characterization, but returned to her book.

“Well, come along then,” Maraline said, getting up, and straightening herself.

Katrisha give her sister a quick hug, and hurried after the princess, towards the north rampart.

“It really was a lovely trip,” Maraline said as Katrisha caught up.  “A caravan was in town, with a woman in charge of all things.  I’ve so rarely gotten to go down when the caravans come through Brokhal, and that was a treat to see a woman bossing around all those scruffy old traders.”

“Samantha?” Katrisha asked with piqued interest.

“I believe so,” Maraline said with some surprise.  “I only got to speak with her briefly, she was very busy.”

“I’m guessing you did not catch her last name,” Katrisha said with a wry smile.

“I do not believe I did, no,” Maraline said with curiosity.  “Her first would have slipped my mind entirely had you not known it.  How did you?”

“Did neither Kiannae or I ever tell you?” Katrisha asked a bit at a loss.

“I am uncertain what,” Maraline considered, “so please do.”

“Her last name is Peregrine,” Katrisha said with a laugh.

“As in,” Maraline seemed quite amused, and stifled a laugh, “our dear Mercu?”

“Oh yes,” Katrisha said.  “Seems he was to inherit the troupe, and wanted nothing of it.  Apparently his sister has never quite forgiven him.”

“Forgiven him?” Maraline seemed bewildered by the idea, and stopped at the steps that lead up the outside of the north wall.

“Oh yes,” Katrisha said.  “How would you feel if your brother, suddenly, and quite without sufficient warning advocated the kingdom to you?”

“Me, Queen?” Maraline laughed, but she seemed vaguely pleased by the idea.

“With all the petty squabbles that come with it,” Katrisha redirected.

“Mortified, I suppose,” Maraline acknowledged, and started up the steps.

“And there are not a great many Queens who actually reign, are there?” Katrisha added.

“No, that does sound tiresome.”

“There are fewer women among the trade princes,” Katrisha noted.  “So while I am sure she is quite happy to be rich, and defy convention.  It has been a load of hassle for her, and the perfect excuse to berate her older brother when they meet.”

“Ah, now that alone sounds worth it,” Maraline said with good humor.

“What has Adrian done to irk you?” Katrisha asked curiously.

“Nothing polite to speak,” Maraline said conspiratorially.

“Then I wish to hear it all the more.”  Katrisha laughed.

“You are terrible,” Maraline said in good humor.  “Still, no, no.  It is only a suspicion, somewhere I have seen his eye turn that I do not approve, and I would not forgive myself for speaking it aloud.”

“Are you certain?” Katrisha pressed.

“Yes, quite,” Maraline said, becoming thin lipped, and turned to look out over the forest far below.

“Speaking of where eyes turn,” Katrisha said stepping away from the topic the princess would not broach further.  “How did your trip to South Rook go beyond unknowingly meeting Mercu’s sister?”

“Spectacularly,” Maraline said with thinly restrained excitement.

“How so?” Katrisha asked, and hopped up onto the parapet beside her.

“I do think he truly likes me,” the princess said looking up at her less dignified younger friend, who thought nothing of having gotten up, and sitting there without a care.  She was a bit jealous of that, the carefree lack of restraint Katrisha often showed.

“Did you kiss?” Katrisha asked.

“What, no, no,” Maraline blushed.  “Nothing so forward, but we walked, we talked,” she grabbed Katrisha’s hand excitedly where it lay on the parapet, “we held hands!”

“So, just as we have done today?” Katirsha teased.  “Are we now to be engaged?”

The princess looked down at the hand she had grabbed, and released it turning a bit crimson.  “You are terrible,” she laughed.

“That is becoming something of a refrain,” Katrisha noted.  “Yet you seem amused.”

Another laugh.  “It means so much more for a young man and woman.  We are friends, dear Katrisha.  Lukus is a charming young, man and a suitor.  It means so much more.”

“As you say, I am glad you are happy,” Katrisha said with a smile.

“So very,” Maraline nodded.

Katrisha seemed thoughtful a moment.  “I’ve not heard word of a caravan coming into Brokhal.  Surely Samantha was headed north next?”

“West actually, I believe,” Maraline said, “to Wesrook.”

“That should mean they will come through Brokhal sometime soon then,” Katrish noted.

“I would think,” Maraline agreed.

“I must press Mercu about this,” Katrisha laughed.  “Can’t have him avoiding his sister again.”

⁃ ◇ ❖ ◇ ⁃

Coria 20th, 642 E.R.

“He road it…”  Laurel looked befuddled staring at the note that had been handed to him.

“What?” Mercu asked not following at all.

“He road the light forsaken dragon.”

“What!?” Mercu repeated wide eyed.

“Either Jeoffery has lost all sense, someone has fooled with the communication, or prince Vharen has literally flown off on the back of a black dragon into the western mountains of Osyrae.”

“So he’s seeking the favor of the General then, not the Queen,” Mercu said rubbing his forehead, and trying to pluck something sensible from an otherwise absurd statement.

“I guess, it makes as much sense as anything.  The dragon was captured in the north.  Evens out the potential insult.  Not that anything makes sense.”

“Surely the stunt won’t work.  Maybe he will wind up dead?”

“I’m not fully sure that will even be that much of an improvement.  He road the dragon for abyss sake.  Who…how?  There is no record of anyone – ever – riding a dragon.  Let alone a feral one.”

“I’ve heard some stories out of Napir.  One of Roshana’s younger daughters, very fond of a certain monk.  I mean it is just a story, but yes.  It is hard to believe.”

“It is far beyond hard to believe, it is terrifying.  It is tantamount to recognition.  It would fit with the claims that much of the black flight was bound to the blood of Vhale.  It hints at a birthright for him to make claim to the flight.  If he does that…even if he doesn’t.  If Vharen is instead killed for posing as a proper heir, if he is just too clever for his own good, then…”

“Then the old stalemate will tear Osyrae apart.  The throne will be vacant, the General and Queen will fight over the capital, and Osyrae will not pose an immediate danger to anyone, but themselves.”

“Maybe…”  Laurel passed the note to Mercu, “but what do you make of this last bit?”

“The pawn that would be queen may yet be in play,” Mercu read half under his breath.  “I haven’t the foggiest.”

“Maybe he really has gone mad.”  Laurel shook his head.

“If the King has flown off into the sunset,” Mercu asked, “who is reigning in his stead?”

“His uncle,” Laurel said dourly, “as if Vharen was not bad enough.”

⁃ ◇ ❖ ◇ ⁃

Rhaeus 7th, 642 E.R.

A woman with long chestnut hair staggered slightly as a nine year old grabbed onto her without warning from behind, while calling her name.  “Samantha!”

“What, who, how?” she growled as she tried to catch sight of the interloper, and caught two vaguely familiar green eyes staring up at her.

“You grew your hair back out,” Mercu said walking up behind the scene with an identical girl in tow.

“And I didn’t even have to guilt you into coming down this time?” Samantha asked a bit incredulously, and patted Katrisha on the head.

“No, that one took care of it for you,” he said nodding to the girl still hugging Samantha’s side.  “Seems she’s fond of you.  Fates know why.”

“So to which one do I owe the honor?” Samantha asked.

“That would be Kat,” Kiannae offered.  “Though I’m quite happy to see you as well.”

“Well then get over here,” Samantha gestured, and Kiannae obliged to accept a hug as well.  “My you two have grown,” Samantha said when the two relented to let her go.  “It’s only been a year hasn’t it?”

“Roughly,” Mercu nodded.  “I didn’t expect you to be back through so soon.”

“Me either,” Samantha agreed, “and I’m regretting trading routes already.”

“So you’ve heard?” Mercu pressed.

“About the bloody dragon?  Of course I’ve heard,” she growled.

“Not at all relieved to hear it’s flown off to the west then?” Mercu laughed.

“Not particularly,” Samantha sighed.  “Though thanks for the confirmation on that part.  I’ve no desire to be in Osyrae if that all goes sideways for them.”

“Not the most pleasant proposition, no,” Mercu agreed.

“So you buying me a drink again?” Samantha laughed.

“After last time?” Mercu chided.

“Fine, come into my wagon then,” Samantha shrugged, “but you are paying me for the bottle.”

Samantha peaked into wagon curiously for a moment, sighed, and then climbed in with the others behind her.  It somehow seemed even more cramped, and packed than the year before, and something red shifted on the bed in the back.

“Back already dear?” came the yawning voice of a young woman in a red robe, and with hair almost to match, who rolled over, stretched, and stood up, rolling her shoulders.

“I’m not your dear, you troublemaker,” Samantha cut back.

Mercu stood in the door to the wagon for a moment, and looked confused.

“Oh, who’s this handsome creature you’ve brought me?”  The woman laughed.

“My brother,” Samantha grumbled, “and his two little girls.”

“Ah, shame,” she pouted, and then laughed.

“Mercu, Sasha,” Samantha introduced.  “Best healer I’ve had in ten years, and most trouble I’ve had since you exiled yourself.  Sasha, my brother, the only person to ever cause me more trouble than you.”

“Charmed,” Mercu said uncertainly, suddenly wondering if risking another trip to the Grey Lamb would have been the safer choice.

Sasha squeezed past Samantha, who jumped slightly at something unseen.  The redhead threw her arms around Mercu.  “Nice to meet you.  Any brother of this darling woman is surely marvelous company.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Mercu said with more reservation than anyone present had seen him show – particularly regarding a lovely younger woman.

She peeked around Mercu, and gave Katrisha and Kiannae a very curious look, and then nudged past him to kneel down infront of them.  “You two,” she began curiously.  “You are an interesting pair.  Such bright auras, green eyes,” she tilted her head to the side considering Kiannae’s at length.  “You are Wren’s sisters, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” both answered in unison, and with some surprise.

“Did you tell her?” Mercu asked curiously.

“No,” Samantha looked a bit confused.  “I’ve barely mentioned you.  She is from the cloister though, up north.  I met Wren myself when I was passing through.”

“Yes,” Sasha said considering the girls curiously for a moment.  “I know Wren, though only really in passing.  Interesting little boy.  Strange to see the male of a line with so much stronger of an aura, but I’ve heard the rumors of how that came to pass.”

Katrisha looked a bit cross, and Kiannar frowned.

“Ah, yes,” Sasha said.  “Sorry, that was rather callous of me.  My condolences, I apologise.”  She stood up.  “Well, sit, sit everyone.  I’ll grab a bottle.”  Samantha glared at her for being presumptuous.  “On me of course, dear, take it out of my pay.”

“Mercu is paying,” Samantha countered.  “And I’m not you dear.”

“If the lady wishes to pay,” Mercu offered, and at a single sidelong glance from his sister started fishing through his coin purse.  He flipped her a silver coin.  She perked a brow pointedly, and he flipped her another.

“Good enough,” Samantha said, and took a seat.

Sasha slipped past Mercu again, and he suddenly had a guess as to what had made Samantha jump before, and stared a bit bewilderedly at a flash of the girls yellow eyes.  He took a seat opposite his sister, and looked at her in a way that begged answers.  Her returned glare if anything simply said he had no right to be giving her such a look.

“Sasha,” Samantha began as the twins attempted to squeeze in next to Mercu, and Katrisha found she had to sit next to Samantha instead.  “She struck something of a bargain I couldn’t refuse.  That left her without proper accommodations on the trip between Napir, and Niven.  Too many goods to be moved.  I relented, somewhat reluctantly, with no other option but to permit her to stay in my wagon for the trip.”

“Niven is quite a ways south,” Mercu noted.

“Yes it is,” Samantha agreed, as a bottle was set on the table, and three glasses.

“How she managed to strike the bargain in Niven, to move even more goods to Wesrook I am not sure.  I could have sworn she never left the Caravan.”  Samantha added.  “Again she made a convincing case for sharing arrangements, and that the bargain was again too good to pass up.”

“Very convincing,” Mercu acknowledged with a somber nod, “I’m sure.”

Sasha was grinning silently, like the cat that ate the canary as she opened the bottle with a pop, and poured.  Mercu glanced up at her, and then across at Katrisha, and down at Kiannae, who both seemed – to his liking – a bit confused.  Not that he had any strong objects to explaining, but he felt that Laurel might be more than a bit cross on the matter.

“Now mind you,” Mercu noted.  “Wesrook is rather a ways west.”

“Yes,” Samantha said, “and someone misspoke thinking we had open space for passengers.”

“Was that a problem?” Sasha asked.  “They did agree to pay very well.”

“For passage all the way to Mintercreek,” Samantha said tight lipped.

“So nothing unusual,” Mercu nodded, playing along, hiding his own amusement.

“I assure you,” Samantha said, “that I have been up to no mischief.  I can speak for no one else in this wagon.”  She gestured about exaggeratedly.

“We haven’t been up to mischief,” Katrisha protested, and got a funny look from Mercu.

“Well, there was that orb that went flying through open court last week,” Kiannae admitted.  “Still an accident, it should have expired before then…it was Katrisha’s any way.”

“Oh, I’m sure you two will get around to it,” Sasha said with a laugh, and took one of the glasses.

“They are nine,” Mercu noted, somewhat sternly, then debated the wisdom of his protest in the thin hope the girls were still ignorant of the subtext.

“I was eleven,” Sasha said with a perked brow, and took a sip.  She eyed Mercu over her glass in a way that made even him glance away.

Samantha took more than a bit of a sip herself at that.

“To mischief, still fun even one way,” Sasha offered a toast.  Samantha turned almost as red as the younger woman’s hair, and Mercu struggled to keep a straight face as he took a glass, and consented to look back up, and clink his to Sasha’s.

Samantha stewed for a moment.

“It’s not polite not to clink glasses,” Kiannae offered unhelpfully, and Samantha gave a wounded glance to the girl, before relenting to do so.

“We don’t have anything to toast with,” Katirsha offered, also unhelpfully.  “Not that we really like wine.”

“I don’t think the two of you need toast to mischief,” Mercu said matter of factly – on several levels – and took a drink.  The others did in turn, Samantha drank enough to need refilling.  Which Sasha did without asking.

“Not that I have any interest to further navigate this matter,” Mercu said tentatively.  “But I’m surprised you invited us in, given you knew you had a gust.”

“My fault,” Sasha offered.  “I’d gone out earlier, and I don’t think Sam noticed me come back.”

“I had not,” Samantha concurred, and took another drink.

“So what are your plans,” Mercu launched into, quite ready to change the subject.

“The plans had been to follow the course north through Osyrae,” Samantha said.  “With events there though…”

“The alternative?” Mercu pressed.

“That would be the east road,” Katrisha answered.

“Unless she plans to double back,” Kiannae countered.

“No good options,” Samantha agreed.

“There has been no sign of further activity on the east road, nor in the forest,” Mercu offered.

“And you would like your own sister to test that, would you?” Samantha asked tersely.  “You seemed pleased I wasn’t last time.”

“I would like no one to have to test that,” Mercu offered kindly.  “Still, I think it will let me plead a far more personal case for what the King would surely offer you any way.”

“A full escort?” Samantha asked hopefully.

“A large one even,” Mercu added.  “Anything to get trade moving on that road again.  One attack, however brutal, and that further even managed to run the bandits afoul of the Sylvans, has shut down trade with Helm completely.  Osyrae has little interest in our goods, and caravans coming from the south have been picked clean of most of what we want.”

“Plead your case then,” Samantha said.  “If I get the escort, I’ll make the run.  The profits will be worth it.  Assuming of course I can get a replacement healer, or keep the current one on.”

“I maintain,” Sasha said, “that I can be convinced.”

“Will it take more than a circuit out through Mordove, Lycia, and Palentia to convince you?” Samantha asked incredulously.

“Tempting,” Sasha laughed.  “I’m sure you can think of something.”

“I like her,” Mercu laughed.

“You would,” Samantha cut back.

“She seems nice enough,” Katrisha offered with some confusion.

“Oh, you are darling to say so,” Sasha said leaning over to pat the girl on the head with a smile.

⁃ ◇ ❖ ◇ ⁃

Jovan 20th, 642 E.R.

“Confirmation,” Laurel shook his head.  “After months of the capital left in the hands of his hardliner uncle…  Yet…no declarations, no fanfare.”

“You are babbling,” Mercu offered unhelpfully.

“Vharen has returned.  After riding off on a dragon.  No big show, no grand pronouncement, just back to business as usual…or whatever you can call that state of affairs.  Just nothing.”

“So the flight rejected him, nicely?” Mercu considered incredulously.

“I guess?”  Laurel ran his fingers through his hair.  “I mean there was a report that he was possibly seen back, and brooding over a week before this was sent.  I just don’t know what to make of it.  I want to take it all as a good sign, but this whole chain of events…seeking to capture a dragon, succeeding, and flying off into the actual sunset on it.  All this grandiose, unprecedented insanity…and now…nothing.”

“Hard to trust, I agree.”

“More troop movements, but none to our border.  Most north, some west – more enforcement along the forest border.  I think he may take one of the free cities, but they, just like the north…the Council will do nothing.”

Mercu grabbed Laurel by the shoulders, gave him a soft shake, and Laurel looked up, still bewildered.

“This is good news, such as good news comes these days.  There really isn’t anything to second guess, for now.”

“You are right.”  Laurel shook his head.  “I will compose this information for the Council, and send the message.  Then…” he laughed a bit darkly, “then I think I will sleep for a week, or until the surprise dragon attack burns the castle to the ground.”

“Good plan.”  Mercu nodded, and then was thoughtful a moment.  “Were there no more cryptic passages about pawns, and queens?”

“No – but he did say something about a shadow, a thief that goes unseen.”  Laurel shook his head.

“I hate to think that maybe we should pull him out of there.”

“I am getting concerned, as is the King.”  Laurel sighed, and set the message aside.

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