Gold Dragon, Page 3

  He hadn’t received much better treatment from the guards at the front gate, who had patted him down before letting him enter the castle, and told him he would have to leave his sword with them. Trip had been mortified when the guards abruptly changed their minds, saying he could go right in and that he and his sword should have a nice day.

  Azarwrath hadn’t confessed to the mind manipulation. He hadn’t needed to.

  “You can go in, sir,” one of these guards said, no doubt wondering why Trip had been standing in front of the double granite doors leading into the king’s solarium for a minute without knocking or saying anything. “Most of the others are already inside.”

  Yes, his senses told him that King Angulus, Sardelle, Zirkander, Blazer, Duck, and Kaika, along with a dozen people Trip didn’t know, waited within. Finding them all in there added to his nerves—was he considered late?—but maybe he would be able to slink into a back corner, unnoticed.

  As he lifted his hand toward the handle, a faint clacking noise sounded from around the corner of the wide corridor leading back to the castle’s main entrance. He didn’t have to reach out with his power to sense a dragon in that direction—Shulina Arya—though the noise was somewhat perplexing. She had shape-shifted and had a significantly diminished aura. Otherwise, he would have been aware of her approach much earlier. Was she in human form? Interesting. So far, he’d only seen her as herself or as a golden ferret.

  Ah, he sensed Rysha walking behind her. He smiled and stood tall, feeling much better about heading in to see the king with her at his side. From what he had observed before, she wasn’t intimidated by Angulus at all. Probably because she was noble-born and her family rubbed elbows with other noble people, kings included.

  “What is that?” one of the guards asked, picking up the rifle that had been at his side, its butt against the floor by his boots.

  “Wheeee!” came a young woman’s voice from around the corner.

  “You can’t do that in here!” someone shouted.

  As Trip was trying to sense exactly what the shape-shifted dragon was doing, she came around the corner, and he got his first view.

  Shulina Arya, in human form, rode some kind of wheeled board with a crate attached to the front half of it. Handlebars stuck out of the top of the crate, and she bent low, grinning as she gripped them and steered around the corner.

  A golden blonde ponytail set high atop her head flowed behind her, and her violet eyes gleamed with pleasure. Freckles splashed her cheeks and nose, and if Trip had to guess her age—her human age—he would have estimated sixteen or seventeen. She’d told them she was a few hundred years old, but that was young from the dragon perspective.

  “Stop,” one of the door guards cried, striding forward and lifting his rifle, as if someone on a crate scooter in the castle represented a great threat to king and country.

  The other one also sprang forward with his rifle.

  Trip, fearing for their safety if they tried to shoot a dragon, reacted on instinct. He used his mental power to jerk the weapons out of their hands. They flew back and landed in his grip before he could consider if he’d made a mistake—was there a rule against magically confiscating the rifles of castle guards?

  Shulina Arya barely seemed to notice the exchange. Still grinning, she waved and rolled past the double doors at top speed, continuing past the solarium and toward the courtyard garden, her wheels hitting the cracks between the floor tiles and sounding like trains riding the rails.

  One guard sprinted after her, his hand dropping toward a truncheon at his belt. The other whirled on Trip, eyes bulging as he spotted his rifle in Trip’s hand.

  “That’s a dragon,” Trip said, hoping that would explain everything.

  “You took my rifle, you witch.” The guard snarled and leaped for him.

  Azarwrath reacted before Trip did, raising an invisible barrier. The guard struck it chest-first and stumbled backward.

  “I’m just protecting you,” Trip rushed to say.

  Another “Wheee!” sounded farther down the corridor. Shulina Arya had found another corner to go around. The guard, boots pounding the marble tiles, could be heard running after her and ordering her to “cease and desist, right this instant.”

  “If you were to shoot a dragon,” Trip added to the glowering guard still in front of him, who had also pulled a truncheon from his belt, “the bullet would ricochet off its—her—defenses, and might come back to hit you. Or one of the priceless vases on those stands all along the hall. I’m trying to help you.”

  “Trip,” Rysha blurted, running into view. When she wore her uniform, as she did today, she usually looked professional and dignified, but right now, a frazzled expression stamped her face as she ran toward him. “She got away. Did you see—”

  “Stop!” the distant guard yelled as Shulina Arya came back into sight, her scooter somehow zipping along at top speed even though she wasn’t using her foot to push off the floor.

  She rounded the corner too quickly and brushed one of the stands holding one of the priceless vases Trip had referenced. It wobbled alarmingly before settling back to a stop.

  Rysha reached Trip’s side, and Azarwrath lowered the barrier so she could step close and grip Trip’s arm. He wasn’t sure if it was to push him to safety or because she needed emotional support.

  Shulina Arya rolled past them, looking like she was having far too much fun to stop caroming around the castle for a meeting.

  The double doors opened silently behind Trip. He might not have noticed except he sensed a familiar presence.

  Sardelle leaned her head into the hallway. “Is there a problem out here?”

  The guard that had been chasing Shulina Arya since the beginning raced past, his face red, his arms pumping and his truncheon clenched in his white-knuckled fist.

  “Uhm.” Trip groped for something more articulate to say, but he hadn’t started reading Duck’s vocabulary-laden classics yet, so fancy words eluded him.

  Sardelle watched, her face impressively serene. Or maybe she was just good at masking her thoughts.

  “Ma’am.” Rysha turned hopefully toward Sardelle. “Are Shulina Arya’s parents in there?”

  Sardelle’s serene expression shifted into one bordering on bemusement. “They are.”

  “Maybe they could convince her to—”

  Shulina Arya rolled back into view again, this time returning from the king’s vast audience chamber. “Coming through, human friends!” she called.

  Trip tugged Rysha out of the way as Sardelle pressed her back to one of the open doors to make way. The guard looked like he wanted to lunge forward and tackle Shulina Arya as she approached, but she wrinkled her nose, and he froze in tableau.

  She zipped past Trip, the breeze ruffling his hair, then weaved around some large potted plants as she disappeared into the solarium.

  Trip didn’t stretch his senses out toward the people inside—he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what they thought of the intruder, nor did he want to witness it if a legion of the king’s bodyguards tried to tackle her—but he still felt the ripples of alarm and surprise.

  “And to think,” Rysha said, her hand to her cheek as she looked through the open doors into the solarium, “meeting Shulina Arya’s parents was what I was nervous about today.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to bond with such a young dragon,” Trip observed mildly, still keeping an eye on the guards. They were both back in front of the door now, their glowers turning toward him. He offered them their rifles, hoping there wouldn’t be repercussions and also hoping they would forget he had used magic to confiscate them.

  There’s nothing wrong with a young and perky individual, Jaxi spoke into Trip’s mind—into all of their minds, he imagined.

  The soulblade was sheathed in her usual spot on Sardelle’s hip.

  Good morning, Jaxi, Trip thought. I’ve missed your commentary.

  He couldn’t say he’d missed listening in as Jaxi and Azar
wrath argued, however, and was glad they were usually separated now. Sometimes, they made up for lost time when Trip reported to Sardelle’s house for his lessons. It was hard to concentrate on magic with arguing voices in his head.

  Of course you’ve missed me. I’m not sure how you keep from falling asleep every time Azzy opens his mouth to drone on.

  His… mouth?

  His mental mouth. It certainly puts me to sleep. You must have excellent stamina.

  Azarwrath issued a long-suffering sigh into Trip’s mind.

  Trip looked at Rysha and smiled, thinking of suggesting that Jaxi could ask her about his stamina, but that seemed uncouth, so he refrained.

  Please, I doubt she remembers what your stamina is like, Jaxi said, apparently reading his thoughts. He must still be, as she’d observed previously, leaving his bank vault door open when he thought of Rysha. You two haven’t rutted since that disgusting alley in Lagresh.

  It wasn’t a disgusting alley. It was one of the less fragrant ones.

  You’re lucky she still wants to rut with you. Though she may not if you don’t remember to congratulate her on passing her test.

  Oh! Trip turned to Rysha, though she wasn’t looking toward him anymore. She and Sardelle had turned toward another newcomer striding up the corridor, this one with more dignity than Shulina Arya and a haughty upward tilt to his nose. Phelistoth. His silver hair was pulled back in a tie, and layered robes hung to his feet, straight and unwrinkled. He walked past them without a word.

  “It’s true that young and perky dragons are a pleasant change,” Sardelle murmured, then inclined her head toward the solarium. She gave the still-fuming guards a warm smile before leading the way inside.

  Trip didn’t sense her employing any manipulation, but they did seem to cool down a few degrees. Maybe they liked having pretty women smile at them.

  Rysha looked at Trip as they walked in together, and he sensed her excitement, that she wanted to share the news of her success.

  Congratulations, he whispered into her mind and touched her hand.

  Maybe he should have waited for her to say something, but he felt like a heel because he’d been distracted and hadn’t congratulated her already. He’d heard the news from General Zirkander the night before when he’d come home to the large mother-gathering in his living room.

  Thank you. I’m so excited. Rysha seemed comfortable with telepathic contact these days, which warmed Trip’s heart. She was growing comfortable with him. All of him and all of his eccentricities. I’ll get invited to go on dangerous missions now! she added.

  More dangerous than the ones we’ve already been on?

  She grinned, elbowed him, and nodded ahead of them. I guess we’ll find out soon. But, uhm, it would be nice to celebrate before we’re sent off on whatever the next mission is. She raised her eyebrows toward him. I haven’t seen you very much since we got back.

  Her tone seemed hesitant. Uncertain. Did she think he’d been avoiding her? Definitely not.

  You’ve been off training every time I’ve come by your barracks room to look for you.

  Oh? I hadn’t realized you’d stopped by. It’s true—I have been training a lot. I was terrified I wouldn’t pass the tests, and that I’d lose Shulina Arya and my chance to make it into the unit.

  I know. That’s why I didn’t hunt you down. I didn’t want to interrupt. And I’ve been training too. Not in the way of one-armed pull-ups but in the way of altering images on a printed page and redrawing them on another page.

  Her lips quirked. I’m glad you mastered the fish workbook.

  Just the first exercise.

  Do you want to come by tonight? Rysha asked. We could go to dinner and for a walk if it’s not raining.

  I would love to. A zing went through his body as he imagined partaking in the romantic beach walk with her that he’d envisioned for so long.

  They reached a large wrought-iron table in the center of the solarium and found all of the seats were filled. Rysha stopped behind someone in uniform, someone large, hulking, and hard to see around. The man, a few specks of gray in his short, dark hair, turned and glowered at Trip, though Trip didn’t think they had met before. Had everyone read that ludicrous newspaper article?

  Rysha saluted the glowering man. “Good morning, Colonel Therrik.”

  Trip also snapped up a salute. He recognized the name, if not the face, and suspected the officer ate those who didn’t salute him quickly enough.

  The colonel growled, returned the salute brusquely, and turned back around.

  I don’t think he likes having people behind him, Rysha thought. Some of the elite troops can be a touch paranoid.

  Trip was close enough, with his mind open to her, that he heard her silent words. Why? I promise I’m not going to squeeze his butt.

  I suspect he’s more concerned about getting daggers in the back than butt squeezes.

  Given what I’ve heard about him, I suppose that makes sense.

  A throat cleared near the head of the table. “Is that our powerful sorcerer?”

  Hells, was that the king?

  Someone else large and looming stood next to Therrik, and a cluster of officious-looking men with pads of paper and pens blocked the route to the table on his other side, so Trip couldn’t easily make himself seen. He chewed on his lip, debated on using his power to nudge people out of the way—or maybe he could levitate himself over all their heads for a dramatic entrance—but he decided to step up onto a sturdy-looking cement planter.

  Belatedly, as his boot slid into the loamy soil underneath a fig tree, he decided that might not have been the most dignified choice. Especially when Therrik stepped to the side, obviating the need for an elevated perch.

  King Angulus was indeed gazing in Trip’s direction, his broad face difficult to read. Trip decided not to pry into his thoughts. If his monarch was irked with him, annoyed with him, or simply unimpressed by him, he didn’t want to know.

  “Good morning, Sire,” Trip said, gripping the trunk of the fig tree so he could salute with the proper hand without falling off the planter. Belatedly, he realized he could step down from the planter, since Therrik had moved.

  Trip jumped down, but landed on a puddle leaking from the bottom of the planter and slipped. He pitched against Therrik, their shoulders bumping. Trip had encountered marble statues with more give.

  Therrik glowered at him again. Trip would definitely not be squeezing his butt.

  “My apologies for the tightness, Captain,” Angulus said, glancing at the shivering branches of the fig tree. “I wasn’t expecting someone to bring a vehicle to the meeting.” He looked to the side—somehow Shulina Arya had made it to the head of the table and stood near him, her hand resting on the handlebars of the crate scooter.

  “A vehicle?” Shulina Arya asked. “This small human toy?”

  “Perhaps I could make her a more compact version,” Trip said, feeling the urge to be helpful, especially since a lot of people sitting at the table, some he recognized and others he didn’t, were frowning in his direction. “Or a folding one.”

  “How does one make a crate fold?” General Zirkander asked dryly from one side of the table, shoulder to shoulder with Sardelle. She’d found her seat quickly. Maybe she had levitated.

  “It wouldn’t be that difficult, sir.” Trip eyed the contraption, ideas already percolating in his mind.

  “Don’t ask her how she got it,” Rysha whispered to him. “Or about the forlorn youth wondering if he’ll ever get it back.”

  “She stole it?” Trip’s mind boggled at the idea of a dragon mugging some teenager in a back alley.

  “She landed a couple of blocks away from the castle—I suggested we not come down in the courtyard and alarm any trigger-happy guards on the grounds—and startled some boys racing each other in the street. They fled, leaving their toys behind. She thought their racing game looked like great fun, so she took one of the scooters…”

  “I will most certainly ret
urn it,” Shulina Arya said, her human voice sounding every bit as perky out loud as it did when it resonated in Trip’s mind. “I simply wanted to try it. I—”

  An older man with copper hair stepped forward to draw Shulina Arya away from the table. He wore spectacles and a blue suit a size or two too large for him. An unlit pipe stuck out of one pocket. When he pulled her back, it was to join another copper-haired man with similar fashion tastes, though the second fellow wore quirky inventor’s goggles with the lenses lifted up.

  It belatedly occurred to Trip that those two were dragons. Between Phelistoth’s and Shulina Arya’s presences, he hadn’t noticed the pair in the back.

  “Are those… her parents?” Rysha whispered.

  “They are dragons shape-shifted into human form.”

  It seemed strange to refer to the two men—two male dragons—as a set of parents, but Shulina Arya apparently considered them to be that.

  “I see that everyone who was invited to this meeting is here,” King Angulus said, nodding around the table, and also toward those standing in the back.

  Trip was surprised he wasn’t holding this meeting in his big audience chamber, but perhaps he considered the table and the plant-filled setting more intimate than addressing people from the throne atop his dais. There was still room for servants to move around the solarium, filling drink glasses. If Trip hadn’t been wedged between Therrik, Rysha, and the fig tree, he wouldn’t have found the space that crowded.

  “A couple of dragons who inform me that they are scientists have come to speak with us,” Angulus went on, extending a hand toward the professorial types. “They’re not trying to solve Iskandia’s dragon problem, but from what I’ve heard already, it’s possible some of what they tell us will spark some ideas among our brighter minds.”

  Angulus looked at Sardelle and then at a bronze-skinned Cofah man with shaggy black hair who sat near the end of the table by Captain Ahn. Tolemek Targoson. Trip had met him the night his siblings had been removed from the stasis chambers.

  “Should I be offended that he didn’t look at me when he said that?” Zirkander whispered to Sardelle, not that softly.