The Dragon Round (25 page)

“So what's he waiting for?” Jos says.

“Night,” Solet says. Ah is barely above the horizon and Med is lost again. “Mylla, flash the
Pyg
.”

There's no response. She flashes again. Solet reads the concern in her flashing. He doesn't want Barad dead, but if he is, what a song this tragedy will make. Still no response.

“It was a long shot,” he tells her. “It might not be dark enough for them to see the flashing at this distance. Jos, as soon as the survivors are on board, get us to shore as fast as possible. I have a plan to deal with the rider there. I will have that gray. In the meantime anchor a buoy and attach it to the dragon so we can dredge it up later and render whatever the crabs don't.”

Jos passes Mulcent at the top of the ladder. “Attack the rider,” the shipowner says. “I must have that dragon.”

Mylla sees the dragon look in Solet's eyes as he takes the oar. “As you indicated, the operation's at an end,” he says. “I assumed you were coming to relieve me now that the dragon's been taken. Jos can return us to Hanosh once we've gathered the survivors.” He takes off his goggles and bandana.

“Conditions have changed,” Mulcent says. “It's a fire-breather.”

“We aren't equipped to capture so small a dragon alive,” Solet says. “Certainly not one that's being ridden. The risks and costs are unpredictable.”

“Forget the risks!” Mulcent says. “Forget the costs!”

Sumpt appears on the ladder. “Did I just hear that?”

“Our arrangement,” Solet says, “calls for us to be paid in render or a percentage of its realized value. This dragon would be more useful ridden than as parts or a gland for milking. So where's the profit in my capturing it?”

“We can reorganize our terms later,” Mulcent says, “when we have more time.”

“Ah, but I am Ynessi,” Solet says. “We live for the present. Do you know that the old Ynessi word for ‘now' is the same as that for ‘forever'?”

No, it's not
, Mylla thinks.

“There's paper and ink in your cabin,” Solet says. “Let's draw up a new agreement quickly before we're attacked again.”

Mulcent shivers with rage, and he leads Sumpt and Solet below.

Mylla is amused. Her cousin has learned to play the Hanoshi game very well. When he was younger, Solet would have simply tossed those men overboard, taken the ship, then claimed the dragon for his own. Of course, he still might, given how the owners have treated him. They haven't learned to play the Ynessi game yet.

4

The trip to shore takes ten minutes and feels like ten hours. Time reasserts itself when a flashing comes from the beach. The
Pyg
made it. Barad made it. Kley has freed his remaining rowers, and hidden them and the surviving crew in the trees. A single archer guards them. Solet has Mylla tell Barad he'll need a dozen men in the surf to unload some cargo quietly.

The wolf pack has been mooring on the beach all week to get fresh water from a nearby stream, hunt small game, and track the dragon, so they know where to land. The partially submerged, partially aflame hulk of the
Pyg
rests nearby.

The gray dragon is nowhere to be seen in the remains of the day.
It can't have left
, Mylla thinks. It must be circling them or watching from a nearby roost. Although Solet often makes the best of a bad lot, this time Mylla can't be as confident as the rest. Unlike most of the crew, she doesn't remove her goggles and bandana.

As soon as the galley grabs sand, two large bundles wrapped in canvas are lowered off the bow into waiting arms, then several more bundles of various sizes, then Jos, who directs the party from the
Pyg
. Sailors and archers slide down after him and pull the
Gamo
farther onto shore. The whole operation lasts five minutes.

Solet retrieves a lantern from his cabin, runs to the bow, and throws one leg over the starboard rail to slide down a line to the beach. He says, “Stay on the
Gamo
, Mylla. Keep the owners in their cabins and the rowers at their benches. And be our eyes.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Something stupid.” He takes from a pocket a small roll of paper lumpy with a wax seal, and he hands it to her. “Hold on to this for me,” he says. “Just in case.”

On the beach Solet loads a
drop of phlogiston into his lantern's wick. It flames on touching the air and burns brighter and cleaner than any light Mylla has ever seen, illuminating the forty yards of beach between the
Pyg
and the
Gamo
. It gives the beach the warmth of dawn and touches the trees with spring. It shimmers on the galley's wood. Circling the light, Solet seems to glow himself.

Solet calls out to the gray dragon's rider in that voice only a captain has, “You want me. Here I am.”

A line of fire erupts thirty yards deep in the forest. Men hidden at the edge leap onto the beach as the trees catch. Mylla sees the dragon cruise above the flames before disappearing down the beach.

Solet turns to watch it. He continues calling, “Here I am. You want me. Here I am.”

At the edge of the dragonlight Mylla sees the gray racing back up the beach toward Solet. The Ynessi retreats past the lantern. The gray stretches out its claws. Solet holds out his arms, but when the dragon reaches the lantern, he falls backward. The
Gamo
's harpoon cannons, planted in the sand at the tree line, fire simultaneously. Their irons spread a cargo net between them that tangles the dragon and rider and sends them crashing to the sand.

Had it not been slowing to snatch Solet, the dragon might have been seriously injured. Had the rider not been strapped to his saddle, he might have been thrown. Instead, the dragon thrashes and rolls
while the rider tries to calm it and avoid being crushed. Sailors rush forward with rope and lash different parts of the net together. As the net tightens around the dragon it pulls in its wings and lays still.

Bodger and Gibbery come up to check their work and help Solet to his feet. Relieved he's alive, Solet gives the harpooners immense hugs. The Hanoshi do not hug. Bodger and Gibbery are too impressed with themselves to care.

Mulcent appears. He watched the action from the door of his cabin and slid to shore once it was over. He gives the harpooners a curt nod that says he'll remember their shots when their monthlies are remitted.

Solet turns to the rider, who glares at the toes of his boots, then up at him through the netting. “I don't know what's more shocking,” Solet says. “That you're alive, or that you're bearded.”

Mulcent says, “Who is he?”

“My former captain.”

“It can't be,” Mulcent says, peering at him. “He's dead.”

“Yes,” Solet says. “You have the
Comber
render as proof.” Jeryon gives Mulcent a long look at this.

The
Pyg
's deck collapses and the flames expand. Smoke blots out the stars. Fortunately the fire in the woods is burning inland, thanks to a breeze, and doing so slowly, thanks to a recent storm.

“So how is he here?” Mulcent says.

“A momentary lapse. I'll correct that.” Solet raises his finger blade, thinks, and says, “No.” He draws a knife from the scabbard inside his boot and holds it out to Mulcent. “You should have the honor.”

Mulcent looks at the knife with distaste.

Jeryon says, “Either you're as much of a coward as he is, or you're smart enough to know that you won't be able to ride this dragon without me showing you how.”

“How hard could it be?” Solet says. “He did it. It's a horse with wings.”

“Horses don't set you on fire if they don't want you on their
backs.” Jeryon says to Mulcent, “Let me go. Take me on again. I've always been devoted to the company. I'm sure you've calculated the profits of having a dragon rider. I'm your ticket to the Council.”

As Mulcent considers the offer, Solet slides between him and the dragon. “This was not our arrangement,” he says. “New or old.”

“You'll get your bonus,” Mulcent says. “You'll all get bonuses. So will the families of those who were lost.”

One sailor elbows another, they nod to each other, and they squat over the net. Two others join them in considering how to release Jeryon, but keep the dragon still.

Solet pushes them away and turns on Mulcent. “The gray is mine to ride.”

“If you killed the rider,” Mulcent says. “You failed.”

“I won't let you have it,” Solet says.

“It's not yours to let,” Mulcent says. “You don't have anything. And don't look to them. They aren't your crew, either. All this is mine.”

“You're the bread, Captain,” a sailor says, “but he's the butter.” After a moment, they slide Jeryon out of the net. One stands him up while the others retie the lashes. Gray squirms her head around to watch.

“First thing you both need to learn about this dragon is,” Jeryon says, “nobody owns her.
Comber!
”

He drops as the dragon lashes the sailors with fire. They spring in all directions, crashing into others, setting their clothes and skin alight and scattering them as well.

In the confusion, Jeryon limps toward the tree line. Solet slashes at him with his finger blade, but a flaming sailor gets in his way and gets slashed. Solet gasps as fire spreads to his sleeve. He drops and digs it into the sand. Jeryon vanishes into the woods.

Mulcent is apoplectic. “He's gone!” he
says to Solet.

“He'll be back,” Solet says, pulling off the remains of his sleeve.
“He won't leave his mount.”
Pity we'll be gone by then
, he thinks.
I really should finish him off
.

Solet looks around for someone to bring the dragon aboard the
Gamo
, but they are obviously occupied. Jos, Kley, and the captain of the
Kolos
have triaged the injured and pushed the burning dead into the sea.

Solet shakes his head and squats beside the dragon. A patch of net has burned away, but not enough for the dragon to escape.

Mulcent says, “Are you sure you should get so close?”

Solet says, “I don't think I'm in any danger.”

The dragon says, “Eeee!”

Solet shrieks, leaps away, and smiles. He creeps forward again, saying, “Did you hear what Jeryon said?”

“That no one owns her?” Mulcent says. “Nonsense. Everything can be owned.”

“No,” Solet says. “After that.” He straddles the dragon, grabs her neck with his thick fingers, and points her face at Mulcent. “The command.
Comber
.” The dragon enflames Mulcent's chest. Fire splatters up over his cheeks and drips into his crotch. His face starts to melt and his screams evaporate as he draws fire down his throat. He runs across the beach straight at Barad.

The lamp freezes. His eyes are wide open, but not seeing anything. Mulcent's shirtsleeves wick the flames along his arms, which spread as if to grab Barad. His hands drip fire. Mylla charges out of the darkness and bulls her candlebox into Mulcent, knocking him aside.

Barad doesn't see Mulcent stagger past him and, brought to his senses, head for the water. Barad turns to her. His lips pucker. She looks him straight in the eyes as they recall how to focus and says, “No.”

Solet and the dragon watch Mulcent collapse into the waves. “We are going to make a great marriage, you and I,” Solet says, rubbing its head. “I will call you Thea, after my sister. She is a ferocious woman.”

The gray wrenches its neck out of Solet's hands. It sees something huge sliding behind the
Gamo.
It glimmers green in the firelight coming off the
Pyg
. Solet says, “It can't be.”

Mylla and Barad hear a splash, a scraping of wood on wood and the rattle of chains as the bulk heaves through the shallows. They swallow their breath and slowly step away from the water.

Bodger and Gibbery bolt for the harpoon cannons.

Another concussion of wood on galley draws Sumpt from his cabin at last. He slams open the door. He coughs, his cheeks bulge, then he staggers to the larboard rail, where he bends deeply and vomits into the eye of the green dragon.

5

The green must have only been stunned by the iron sticking out of its face. Its skin has swollen around it, half-closing one eye. Pus oozes over its snout, dripping off the arrows still stuck there. It's clearly exhausted from paddling to shore with its tattered wings while towing the buoy, its anchor, and an expanse of foredeck from the
Kolos
by the chains still harpooned to it. It gazes at Sumpt with the contempt reserved for clerks presiding over long lines.

Sumpt gapes, attempting to breathe, and vomits again. The dragon grabs the larboard rail with a wing claw to stand in the shallows. The
Gamo
tips alarmingly. Sumpt falls to his knees and hugs the rail. With its free hand the dragon peels him off and carries him onto the beach toward Mylla and Barad. Its eyes are locked on the gray. Barad wants to run, but Mylla grips his wrist. “Don't move,” she whispers, “and it won't see us. It's not thinking food or enemy.” Barad moves only to slide his hand into hers. A lock of her hair flops free of its binding and drapes her eye. She doesn't dare push it aside.

As the dragon scrapes past them, Sumpt says, “Help me!” Barad bows his head. Mylla shakes hers slowly.

Sumpt looks to Solet, who's abandoned the bucking gray dragon and crawled beside Bodger, Gibbery, and their reloaded cannons. “Shoot it!” Sumpt says. “What are you waiting for?”

The harpooners hold their firing rods to a piece of lit charcoal in the sand and wait for the word. Solet holds up his hand. “Wait,” he says. “This operation is about to get infinitely more profitable.”