Dragon Chameleon: Episodes 5-8 (Dragon Chameleon Omnibuses Book 2) Read online

  “You’re going to bring them to the Bright Redemption and then – ”

  My hand whipped out of my boot, lightning fast, flinging the dagger at his chest. It stuck in his shoulder and he stumbled backward with a grunt.

  No time to wait! I snatched another one out of my boot just in time. He lunged forward again, lightning crackling from his hand. I flung the dagger. It twisted in the air as his hand shot forward, light erupting around it.

  The knife stuck in his palm at the same moment that the lightning struck me, searing my chest for a fraction of a second before it faded. I clutched my chest, fighting for consciousness, my hand fumbling for another dagger, but my arm was too heavy, my fingers too thick. Pain disrupted everything, freezing thought in waves, freezing movement in choking agony.

  “You have until tomorrow,” someone said. Someone who made pain.

  I slumped into the snow.

  Cold on my face.

  Feels good.

  Stars up in the black sky.

  So pretty.

  The world spun. My body was too heavy to move. My eyes too wide to shut. I breathed in but couldn’t breathe out again.

  My vision narrowed, the sky growing smaller, smaller, smaller to the smallest pinprick.

  And then there were hands on me, gathering me up out of the snow and pulling me onto the lap of someone warm with life.

  I closed my eyes and leaned into the sensation of safety. Maybe it would only last a few fleeting seconds. Maybe that was all I had.

  Chapter Six

  I WOKE TO WARMTH AND softness. My eyes snapped open and I scrambled to sit up. Uh oh. My knives were gone. Not just my knives, but my clothing, too – all except for my breeches – which were soaking wet from melting snow.

  “Shhh,” a voice murmured from behind me and I spun to see Zin watching me with a concerned look on her face.

  We were in the room in The Frosty Pint, and I was in the bed. Beside Zin, laid out across the floor, were the packages I’d purchased yesterday and my knives. She’d recovered six of them and lined them up in a row. She’d hung my wet clothes around the brazier that warmed the room.

  I’d never felt so ... cared for. Not since I was a child. It made me feel uncomfortable.

  I swallowed nervously. “Thank you, Zin.”

  Her nod was a quick jerk, like a frightened bird might give, but she met my eyes with her golden gaze. I felt my cheeks heat at the surprise of that.

  “It must not have been easy to get me up here.”

  My head pounded like a drum. The pain making me want to sink back into the bed. Saboraak? Are you there? Still nothing. Wherever they had her, she wasn’t able to talk to me. And that was not good at all. And how would I fool them into thinking I was Bataar if they had him, too? This whole situation was so far beyond my control that I was never going to be able to claw out of it.

  “Did you have help?” I asked gently.

  She nodded, a ghost of a smile flickering over her lips.

  “The innkeeper?”

  Another nod.

  “Did ... anyone else ... see you bring me here?”

  She shook her head, eyes wide.

  Perhaps we were safe here. But Shabren had found me here and once someone pulled those knives out of him and patched him up, he’d be back. At least he didn’t see Zin. At least he didn’t catch her.

  “We can’t stay here. It’s not safe. They’ll be looking for me.”

  She wrapped her arms protectively around her.

  “Look, don’t be scared, okay? I’ll keep you safe.”

  A ridiculous promise coming from a man who was weak as a kitten – a man she’d had to drag to his bed. But she smiled – a real smile, though a small one.

  “I’ll keep you safe, too.”

  I couldn’t stop shock from painting my face and her tiny smile deepened a hair at my reaction. She’d spoken real words. Not prophecies. Not crazy talk. Her real thoughts.

  I didn’t want to wreck this. It should be Zyla here. Or even Bataar. Definitely Saboraak. Any of them would have known how to handle this better than I did. I was pretty sure that if I said the wrong thing, she’d retreat back into herself. I was too rough of a character – too boisterous – for the responsibility of healing the broken.

  I tried the gentlest smile I could and said, “I think you already have. Thank you.”

  Her faint blush as she bit her lip didn’t seem like a bad reaction. She seemed nervous, but that wasn’t bad, right? I hadn’t broken her again. Or at least, I didn’t think I had.

  I pulled myself to my feet. I needed to dress and get back outside. There was light shining through the window. I’d been out all night. If I didn’t get moving, I wouldn’t have time to look for Saboraak and Bataar before I had to take Bataar’s place standing up to Apeq.

  “I need to go out and look for something,” I said gently. “In the evening, I need to go to the top level of Balde and stand in Bataar’s place to challenge Apeq for the right to rule here.”

  She nodded. “Up he goes but can’t come down, not unless he wears a crown.”

  I raked my hand through my hair, wincing. She was back to prophecy. I must have said something wrong.

  “It’s about you.”

  My eyes shot back up to hers. Oh. Not crazy again. Or at least, not yet.

  “They’re all about you,” she said shyly.

  I laughed. “I doubt that. Bataar says there are prophecies about him, though. Maybe that is one of them.”

  “It’s almost evening now,” she said simply.

  I felt like the breath was knocked out of me. No, no, no! It couldn’t be! I rushed to the window, pulling back the thick curtain and looked out the narrow slit to the world beyond. She was right. The streets had the subdued action of late afternoon, of business winding down and people growing less focused. The sun hung low in the sky – not quite sunset yet, but far from noon.

  I’d lost a whole day. I was out of time. I needed to decide – and decide right now! – what I was going to do.

  Should I keep my promise to Saboraak and go to the Seat of Judgment in Bataar’s place, or should I search for Saboraak and Bataar? They could be in trouble. They could be hanging from a ceiling somewhere, their souls being channeled into items ...

  But I wouldn’t know where that was. Could I even find it before midnight? The people who would know would be at that ceremony – Apeq for sure, and maybe even Shabren. I stared at the sun, low in the sky, counting out hours in my head. I barely had time to make it to Balde before dusk, never mind to find Saboraak or Bataar in a massive tri-peaked city.

  I didn’t really have a choice. It was go in Bataar’s place and try to see what I could do, or fret and busily search for something I had no hope of finding.

  I sighed.

  “I’m afraid that I’m going to need your help again, Zin.”

  Chapter Seven

  WE HITCHED A YUDAZGOAT ride to the peak of Balde. I’d noticed the carts carrying passengers all day when I was out searching for the supplies. It was faster than traveling by foot for two reasons – the yudazgoats could pull cargo up steep inclines at the same pace they could walk across a boardwalk, and the cargo tracks did not need to pass every house and business or weave between squares and statues. They simply went in straight lines from one hub to the next. Passengers sat in special carts constructed with high-backed benches that pivoted to accommodate the steep pitches and angles.

  Even with that mindful construction, the journey had been nerve-wracking. I could see why Ko’Torenthians used the passenger carts so rarely. The way the seats tipped and pivoted made me ill and the sheer heights and drops were made even worse when I realized my whole life depended on the surefootedness of a bad-tempered cart animal.

  We were carrying everything we owned – which was precious little – in the small packs I’d acquired – under our Kav’ai clothing. Our loose trousers tucked into knee-high soft boots and our heads and faces swathed in veils. The clothing was pro
bably very effective in the desert. On the mountain, it was miserably cold, even with thick cloaks for protection.

  Flaming Bataar and his flaming prophecies!

  I felt guilty for the thought. Bataar was in trouble somewhere and he needed my help. I shouldn’t be cursing his name. But why did he challenge Apeq at all? Why get into a war over the leadership of a nation he hated?

  I knew what I was doing. I was distracting myself from thinking about what came next. After all, even I had to admit that anything that could prevent war was worth trying. I’d seen war. Images flooding my mind at the very thought of the word – people screaming as fire consumed them. Bodies dashed to the side by raging dust demons. I clamped my eyelids tightly and shoved the thoughts away. The effort left me shaky and breathing hard. No, war was not something I could stomach again.

  But I hated the thought of standing up on that horrible platform again with Zin beside me. I was worried about her. Worried about me. Worried about failing.

  Zin was going to find Zyla in the crowd – I was betting she’d be there – and see if Zyla knew where Bataar and Saboraak were being held. She should be able to move unnoticed with all eyes on me. Or at least, that was the plan. It was the best plan I could think of to keep her safe.

  I shivered. It was the part where all eyes were on me that had me nervous as a rat in lantern light. I didn’t even know what I was going to say or do. I was just going to have to wing it.

  Unfortunately, the veil ruled out charming smiles, though I’d tucked my daggers into my sleeves and boots with care. It was too bad that I’d lost two right away. I would probably need every one I could get if things went bad. Six left. Six to use with care.

  Zin laid a delicate hand on my arm. I tried to smile confidently at her – she must be nervous! – but the veil was in the way, so I settled on patting her hand. I’d warned her that if things went south – if it looked like I wouldn’t get out alive, then she should run to Zyla. I was pretty sure that firecracker of a girl would take on the whole of Ko’Torenth to keep her sister safe.

  I swallowed hard as the yudazgoats crested the slope to the final stop.

  “You get off the cart here,” the driver said in a drawl. He was an oddly plain man and he’d barely said a word since we’d hired him. No flare for the dramatic at all. “No carts allowed on the top level but there are stairs here.”

  I passed him a coin – the agreed upon price – and helped Zin off the cart. Okay, Tor. Look lively. Things are about to get crazy.

  I was already scanning in every direction, looking for danger, trying to ignore the edgy feeling licking at the tips of my nerves.

  “The day of walking legends comes. A Legend returned for the north to fill the breach, to stop the leak of souls and death of power,” Zin whispered.

  We started up the stairs. There was no one else around, though the buzz of voices and noise of people filled the air above us.

  “You sure like those prophecies,” I said, still trying to keep my mind off what I was doing.

  “Truth laid bare.

  Souls spread out.

  Clear the air.

  Quell all doubt.

  He comes to reign and rule.

  He rakes us over fire.

  Before him bend the fools.

  They plummet from the spire,” Zin quoted.

  I left her to it. It seemed to calm her. They meant nothing to me. You could pull anything out of that and say it was the fulfillment of prophecy. I bet there’d be people bowing to the Exalted when we cleared the stairs. That could be bending fools. But, so could people bowing for the headsman’s axe. Or to gather up coins spilled from a slashed purse. Or any number of fool things.

  I was more concerned with real problems and real predictions.

  I swallowed, trying to wet my dry mouth and trying really hard not to remember my own predictions. This couldn’t possibly end well for me. Maybe it would end well for Zin if I gambled right. I tried to run my hand through my hair. The thick fabric wrapped around my head blocked the motion and I frowned. I felt ridiculous in this outfit. I felt like an imposter.

  We crested the stairs and the sound of a thousand voices fading to silence howled in my ears.

  I was an imposter.

  I should never have promised to do this. As I scanned the faces lining the boardwalk and looking down from the windows above the carved friezes, my head spinning with the thin air and the terrible anticipation, I knew I shouldn’t have made that promise to Saboraak. Where was my old dragon? I felt like a man missing a hand with her gone. All I had left of her was my promise to her.

  And what was a man without his word? I took pride in lies. I was proud of my ability to spin a story. But I’d never go back on a promise. Or at least, I hadn’t ever thought I would.

  The crowd parted on either side of me, silent as every eye turned to us. No one was dressed in the Kav’ai fashion today. That trend must feel dangerous on a day like today.

  Instead, they all wore the furs and leathers of Ko’Torenth. Many wore an Exalted house crest – flame, smoke, bird, or oak wreath. And many more than I would have expected wore the clothing of the Order of the Oak. There must be a lot of them in high society since common people were warned away from this level and this gathering.

  I peered at every face I could see as we slowly walked forward, looking for silver swirls in the eyes of the onlookers, but there were too many faces to check. Here, a long-chinned man wearing oak leaves glared at me. There, a young woman with flushed cheeks drew back in fear. Any of them could be Midnight Artificers, working with Shabren to steal the soul of my dragon.

  If I found out which ones they were, I’d give them a reason to pull back.

  It took long minutes to traverse the crowd. Why did anyone build a city on a mountain? Gathering a crowd here was miserable. No one could see what was happening. Everyone relied on word of mouth. Worse, it made everyone there vulnerable to attack. We’d seen that with the two golems Shabren had unleashed. Hadn’t these people learned their lesson?

  As I drew closer to the Seat of Judgment - the Ko’tor’kaen - my feet felt heavier with every step. It was only Zin’s calm presence beside me that kept me from turning around and going back in the other direction. If she could be calm, surely, I could be calm.

  It wasn’t until I was almost upon the strange structure – a platform sticking out from the top tier of Ko’Koren, held up by three arms – that I saw Apeq.

  He was smiling slightly as I approached, as if he already knew my secret – knew the sweating boy in the Kav’ai clothing was nothing more than a fraud.

  I felt a stab of ice run through me when I saw who was beside him. On one side, was Zyla, looking far too excited to see me. I’d be flattered if I really thought that look was for me, but I was dressed as Bataar and posing as him. I had no idea that the two of them had grown so close.

  On the other side, smiling broadly with a look of triumph on his face, was Shabren the Violet. He stood carefully, like he was injured – I guess even he didn’t heal from a knife to the shoulder overnight – and his hand was wrapped with bandages from my thrown knife. Today he wore Apeq’s house crest – the flame. And his eyes swirled with silver.

  Chapter Eight

  I ALMOST FAILED TO notice the other men and women on either side of Apeq, but now that we were close one of them stepped forward. He was a swarthy man with the Oak Wreath on his chest which made him an Exalted of House Ye’Kut. His thick-cowled cloak and embroidered coat marked him as wealthy, even if someone failed to notice the silver cloak-pin and silver-inlaid bracers.

  These others on either side of Apeq must be the other leaders of Exalted Houses. They were equally well dressed, heads held high as if they were too important to hunch against the cold. They stood in groups or knots – whether from the limited room of the boardwalks or because they were divided by faction, who could say? The women were equal with the men and wore equally fine clothing, their hair elaborately dressed in puffs and waves. T
ogether, they made a stern crowd.

  The man who stepped forward – Exalted of House Ye’kut - looked eager, his chin held high and his chest still as if he were almost holding his breath.

  Before we were fully in earshot, he began to speak to the still crowd. “We gather in the heart of Ko’Koren.”

  “Gather,” the people around me intoned together, placing two fingers sticking out from a fist to one shoulder as if in a salute. I almost jumped out of my skin. The nobility in Ko’Koren were some of the creepiest people I’d ever met. Anyone who liked chanting that much needed to be watched.

  “We gather as in times of old,” the Exalted of House Ye’kut continued, his dark hair blowing wildly in the wind as small flurries whipped up and then settled in the gusty breeze. At times, his words were strong and loud, and then one or two would be blown away, lost to the wind.

  “Gather,” the people echoed, their tone low and lamenting. At least I could follow what was happening in their echoes.

  Skies and stars, they were spooky!

  And that look Zyla was giving me – like I was some sort of bright hope on a distant horizon. Augh! Flaming Bataar and his flaming good looks and foreign ways. If I’d known she would look at him like that I’d have never let her ... well, it wasn’t like I’d let her, exactly. She’d made that decision on her own. Not that I objected, of course!

  And now I was rambling in my own mind trying to avoid the memory of that kiss and how warm and soft it had been. I was as bad as Zin. Maybe worse. I should be watching. I should be paying attention to this ceremony.

  A second Exalted stepped forward – a man too fat for this city. Any commoner stayed lean as a snake with all the constant climbing up and down on the stairs and ladders. The smoke swirl on his chest proclaimed him the Exalted of House Gamni. Seeing that smoke swirl made my arms itch where they were marked with the same swirling smoke. The Exalted of House Gamni looked different without his mask. His face had a hungry look despite his heavy frame.