Dragonback 03 Dragon and Slave (5 page)

And suddenly this plan wasn't looking nearly so good anymore.

The road wound its way through another section of formal garden,
then past the open sports field they'd seen earlier from the air.
Beyond the field a ten-foot-tall hedge stretched across the grounds, as
far to both sides as Jack could see in the backwash from the
headlights. The road led them through a narrow gap in the hedge, just
barely wide enough for the car.

Beyond the hedge, the landscape was rougher and wilder, with none
of the careful maintenance he'd seen in the grounds near the house. The
fancy stone road ended at the hedge, too, turning into a more ordinary
stone-embedded blacktop.

They had left the Chookoock family's personal compound. Now, they
were in the working areas of the estate.

The slave areas.

Jack stared out into the glow of the headlights, trying to
remember the layout he'd seen from the
Essenay
. But it was all
rather vague in his mind. His plan had always been to get into the main
house, and once it was clear he wasn't going to get there by going over
the wall he'd mostly lost interest in the grounds themselves.

But Draycos would have paid attention, he knew. The K'da warrior
was very good at details like that. That would help.

He only hoped it would help enough.

They were coming up on the edge of a forest when the headlights
finally picked up a group of buildings ahead. At first glance, the
setup reminded Jack of the Whinyard's Edge training camp, with a couple
of long barracks-style buildings mixed in with a few other structures
of different shapes and sizes.

But at second glance, it was clear this was a very different sort
of place. The paint on the buildings was peeling badly, and in many of
those spots the bare wood was discolored and rotting. The steps leading
up to the various doors were rough and unfinished, some of them with
the bark still attached to the wood.

The overall construction was poorly done, too. Not all the boards
seemed to fit right, and there were gaps in places where the boards had
been too short, or else had rotted away.

The car turned a little to the left as they approached the cluster
of buildings. Its headlights swept across and then steadied on a group
of what looked like three metal packing crates set out in the middle of
a wide circle of sand.

One of the Brummgas sitting behind Jack tapped his shoulder with a
finger the size and weight of a wrench. "Pick a number," he said.

Jack frowned. "Two hundred seventeen."

The Brummga made a disgusted sound. "Pick a number from one to
three."

In the privacy of the darkness, Jack made a face. Like he was
supposed to have known that. "Three."

"Number three," the Brummga told the driver.

The car angled a couple more degrees, and a moment later came to
rest with its headlights centered on the packing crate on the far left.
"Get out," the first Brummga ordered.

Jack obeyed, the aliens piling out alongside him. While the other
two stood guard, the driver stepped to the box and crouched down. There
was a large handle near the bottom of the crate, just above a narrow
horizontal slit, with a keyhole at one end.

The Brummga fumbled a key into place and turned it. Getting a grip
on the handle, he straightened up again, swinging the whole front of
the box upward. "Get in," he ordered, gesturing inside with his free
hand.

Steeling himself, Jack did so.

From the outside, the box had seemed pretty small. From the
inside, it seemed even smaller. He had to duck low to keep from
whacking his head on the ceiling as he stepped in, and if he'd tried
waving his arms around he would have dislocated both elbows. There was
a small pan in one corner; from its lingering aroma, it probably served
as the toilet facilities.

The driver didn't give him much chance to study his new quarters.
Jack was barely inside when the wall swung shut behind him, throwing a
brief gust of air at the back of his neck and plunging him into
darkness. There was another click from the lock, the sound of plodding
footsteps in the sand, and the hum of the car as it pulled away and
headed for home.

Leaving him alone in the darkness.

Well, not entirely alone. "Are you all right?" Draycos asked
quietly from his shoulder.

"Oh, just dandy," Jack growled as he turned around to face the
door and carefully sat down. The floor was plain sand, gritty against
the palms of his hands, and through his shirt the metal wall felt icy
cold against his back. Odd for a place that Gazen had called a hotbox.
"This wasn't exactly how I'd planned to spend the evening. You have any
idea where we are?"

"We are in the slave colony nearest the river," Draycos said.
"Approximately one-half mile from the edge of the Chookoock family
grounds, within the edge of the forest and near a large patch of the
bushes Uncle Virge noted."

"How wonderful it is to be here, too," Jack said, digging at the
sole of his left shoe. The molded rubber looked solid enough; but a
little prodding at the proper place found the secret catch and popped
it open.

There was a soft thud as the spare comm clip he had hidden inside
dropped onto the sand. His eyes were adjusting now, enough to see a
sliver of starlight seeping in through the crack beneath the door.
Retrieving the comm clip, he clicked it on. "Uncle Virge?"

"I'm here," Uncle Virge's voice came back instantly. "Careful,
lad. Not too loud."

"Don't worry, no one's going to hear me," Jack told him. "They've
got me stashed out in the slave quarters."

There was a brief silence. "Not in the mansion?"

"The echo you're hearing isn't from a walk-in closet," Jack said.
"They've got me in a tin room the size of the
Essenay
's
freezer."

"Very strange," Uncle Virge said, his voice frowning. "Gazen just
transferred a hundred and ten thousand into my service account at the
spaceport."

Jack blinked. "That much?" he asked, feeling oddly pleased at the
number.

"That much," Uncle Virge assured him. "For a sum that size, he
ought to be taking better care of you."

"Maybe not having me beaten to a pulp qualifies as gentle handling
in his book," Jack said. "What do you mean, he transferred it into your
service account? He didn't fork over real cash?"

"No, but that's okay," Uncle Virge said. "It's not like we were
planning to actually spend it. But I'm a little concerned about your
situation. This was supposed to be a quick updown hop, with you in the
main house the whole time."

"I guess Gazen didn't read the script," Jack said with a grimace.
At his right shoulder, Draycos's snout rose up from his skin, poking
into the air like a submarine periscope. "Just means we're going to
have to find a way back, that's all. I figure another day or two—"

"Quiet," Draycos cut in suddenly. "Someone is coming."

"I'll call you back," Jack whispered, and clicked off the comm
clip. He hadn't heard anything himself, but after two months of living
with Draycos he knew better than to question the dragon's ears. Tucking
the comm clip back into its hiding place, he hurriedly smoothed over
the sole.

He could hear the footsteps now, sloshing through the sand around
the hotboxes. They seemed slow and lumbering, rather like a Brummga's.
Uneasily, he wondered if Gazen had decided to send someone to beat him
to a pulp after all. A shadow crossed the light coming in from under
the door.

"Hello?" a gravelly voice called softly. "Anyone there?"

Not a Brummgan voice, he decided. That was a hopeful sign. And
despite the low pitch, he also had the odd impression it was female.
"Yes, I'm here," he called back. "Who are you?"

"My name's Maerlynn," the voice answered. "I'm sort of the
welcoming committee."

"I've already met the welcoming committee, thanks," Jack said
sourly, rubbing his shoulder where the Brummga had tapped him. "Large,
friendly sorts with big fingers."

"Are you hurt?" Maerlynn asked. "I may be able to get you some
bandages or salves."

Jack frowned in the darkness. Who
was
this person, anyway?
"No, I'm all right," he said. "What are you? I mean, what's your
connection here?"

There was soft sound like a glob of mud being thrown against a
wall. A chuckle? "Noy's parents used to call me the Den Mother before
they died. A human term, I suppose. You
are
human, aren't you?
Greb couldn't see very well when they brought you in, but he thought
you were. He said he thought you were young, too. Are you?"

Draycos's head rose again from Jack's shoulder. "Move to the side
wall," the dragon whispered into his ear.

Jack nodded and started to ease himself around. "Yes, I'm human,"
he acknowledged. "And I'm fourteen. I don't know if you count that as
young or not. Who's Greb?"

"One of my children," Maerlynn said. "He's sixteen, so he probably
does consider fourteen to be young."

"Yeah, I've known some sixteen-year-olds," Jack grunted. "What
about you?"

"I'm Maerlynn, as I said," she said. "I'm an Ysanhar. Female. And
I'm not going to give you
my
age."

"I wasn't going to ask," Jack said. He was in position now, with
his back pressed against the side wall of his prison. In their
two-dimensional forms, K'da had a handy trick of being able to see
through walls, provided the barrier was thin enough. From his angle,
Draycos might not be able to see Maerlynn where she was right now, but
she should come into view as soon as she headed back to the slave
buildings.

Assuming she
did
go back to the slave buildings. He still
wasn't convinced this wasn't some trick of Gazen's to get him talking.
"Are you a slave?" he asked.

"Everyone on this side of the thorn hedge is a slave," Maerlynn
said, an odd sadness in her voice. "You, too, it would seem. Here—take
this."

Something poked at Jack's feet through the crack under the door.
He reached down a hand, being careful not to pull his back away from
the wall. He didn't know what would happen to Draycos if he moved while
the dragon was looped over the wall that way, but it wasn't something
he wanted to find out the hard way.

His fingers touched an edge of rough cloth. "What is it?"

"A blanket," Maerlynn said. "It's going to get pretty cold in
there tonight."

Colder than this
? Jack wondered, suppressing a shiver. "So
how come Gazen called it a hotbox?"

There was a slight pause, just long enough for Jack to wonder if
he'd said something wrong. "You'll find out about mid-morning,"
Maerlynn said. "How long are you in for? Do you know?"

"He didn't say," Jack told her. "He just said I needed a lesson
about what it meant to cross the Chookoock family."

"I see," Maerlynn said. "Do you need anything else right now?
Food? Water?"

"No, I'm all right," Jack said.

"Get some sleep if you can," Maerlynn said. "I'll try to come talk
to you again later."

"Okay," Jack said. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." There was another slight pause. "By the way . . .
if any of the Brummgas ask, I'd rather you not tell them I came and
talked to you. We're not supposed to go near people in the hotboxes."

"I won't," Jack promised. Though how she expected him to explain
the blanket he wasn't sure. "Thanks again."

"Sure," Maerlynn said. "Good-bye."

The shadow vanished, and there was the sound of fading footsteps.
The feel of the dragon shifted again, and his head rose from Jack's
shoulder. "Well?" Jack asked.

"She is medium height and of a somewhat round build," Draycos
reported. "Her skin looks rough, somewhat like the outer coating of a
pineapple. Her head was covered with tendrils of a white substance.
Similar to human hair, but it did not look precisely the same."

"They're called featherines," Jack said. "Yeah, that's an Ysanhar,
all right. What were her clothes and shoes like?"

"Her clothing was well-worn and patched in several places,"
Draycos said. "Her shoes were in similar shape."

"And she headed back to the slave quarters?"

"Yes."

"One of the slaves, all right," Jack concluded.

"Was there doubt?"

"There's always doubt when you deal with people like Gazen." Jack
shook his head. "She isn't going to have a very pleasant night."

"I do not understand."

"She's probably wondering if
I'm
some kind of plant," Jack
explained. "I shouldn't have mentioned that I'd talked to Gazen. Most
of the slaves in here have probably never even heard the name, let
alone talked to the guy." He shivered, a violent shake that ran through
his whole body. "Geez, it's cold."

Draycos cocked his head. "Put the blanket behind you," he
suggested. "Drape it between you and the wall."

Jack did as instructed, folding the blanket in half first to
provide the thickest insulation possible. Now his chest was exposed to
the air, but at least he wasn't leaning up against the cold metal wall
anymore. "Good," Draycos said. "Now hold still."

And with a surge against Jack's shirt, the dragon leaped off his
skin. Twisting around in midair, he managed to avoid whacking his head
on the low ceiling and landed on Jack's chest and hips.

"Oof!" Jack grunted. Draycos had come down with his paws
straddling Jack's chest and legs, but even with most of his weight
supported that way there was enough left over for Jack to feel it.
"What did you have for breakfast? Cement omelets?"

"I am sorry," Draycos murmured, his breath warm on Jack's cheek.
"I was hoping I could help you keep warm."

"I appreciate it," Jack said. Having the dragon three-dimensional
certainly made the packing crate more cramped.

But on the plus side, the K'da was radiating a fair amount of
heat. Already he could feel the chill starting to leave his skin.
"Matter of fact, I appreciate it a lot," he added. "Thanks."