The Lost Dragons of Barakhai Read online

  Apparently missing the sarcasm, Falima said brightly, “That’s it.”

  And Zylas continued in the same upbeat vein. “If you find them, we’ll figure out a way to rescue them when you get back.”

  “Oh,” Collins said, glancing between his companions to see if they completely missed the obvious or were just better than he was at nonchalantly stating the impossible. “So I don’t actually have to retrieve these dragons. Just look for them.”

  Falima’s smile seemed genuine, filled with joy at having Collins seriously consider the mission so soon after demanding to leave. “Right.”

  “In the king’s warded bedchamber.”

  “Right.”

  Collins blinked. “Okay. That all seems simple enough.” He hardened his tone to make it clear he believed they’d all gone mad. “So long as you ignore the fact that I have to sneak onto the castle grounds, into the castle itself, and to the king’s own bedchamber past a zillion guards and other royal employees all of whom . . . want to personally inflict on me the death of a thousand tortures. Or something worse.” He threw up his hands in disgust. “Are you crazy?”

  Zylas’ head swung toward Prinivere, who had obviously communicated with him alone. Then he addressed Collins. “Did I forget to mention you’d be disguised?”

  Collins continued to stare in disbelief. “That was implied, but I don’t think a little grease paint and a haircut are going to fool anyone this time.”

  Prinivere finally gave a sending to Collins. *He means disguised by magic.*

  At last, Collins began to understand. “By magic?” It had nearly killed Prinivere to cast the spell that allowed Collins to understand their language, and Zylas had sworn not to let her risk herself like that again. “The crystal?” he wondered aloud.

  *The crystal.* Prinivere confirmed. *I can make you look like one of the guards without harming myself. And another will go as your partner.*

  The nonverbal sending allowed Collins to understand that, by “your partner,” she meant that whoever went with him would go in the guise of the guard’s partner as well. He wondered what other spells Prinivere could now do that she could not previously manage but decided not to ask. It might violate some ethical protocol, which would greatly upset Zylas, who always insisted on proper etiquette and respect for the Lady. An instant later, he remembered that Prinivere could read his thoughts. She could choose to list her new abilities or to let him know if she would tolerate a direct questioning. “Who would this partner actually be?”

  Zylas piped in at once. “Me.”

  “You?” Collins’ brows shot up. “But you can’t get into the royals’ chambers.”

  “Nor can anyone else. That’s why we brought you.” The rat tilted his head into a pose probably supposed to appear brave, though it merely made him look quizzical. “I can get you there and back safely.”

  Falima wrung her hands. Clearly, she wanted to intervene, to keep Zylas out of harm’s way. However, to do so would mean putting a lesser value on Collins’ life.

  “Can you guarantee that?” Although he knew better, Collins dared to hope.

  Zylas’ head glided back to its usual position. “Well, no, but . . . no one can ever . . .”

  Collins forced a grin. “I was kidding.”

  “Oh. Well, then.” Zylas’ cheeks pulled across his muzzle into a ratty grin. It was a strange image, like a computer-animated commercial. “I’ll do my best. I’m not going to run out on you.”

  Collins wondered if Zylas had actually used slang or if the spell simply translated it that way. Spell or stone or both, he reminded himself, only then recalling that he still had not pressed Zylas on the details of a question that had occurred to him way back in his own world. “So what happened to your translation stone?”

  “I don’t need it anymore.” Zylas raised his head proudly.

  Collins doubted the rat/man had suddenly learned all the languages of both worlds, along with every animal tongue. The spell Prinivere had cast on Collins interpreted only human languages, and they had told him the crystal Zylas always carried was unique. Collins jerked his gaze past the crates to where Prinivere once again rested with her eyes closed.

  Zylas anticipated the question. “No, she can’t cast a spell that works like my stone did. But she was able to remove the magic from its container and place it directly into me.”

  Collins saw the pros and cons of such a maneuver. It meant Zylas could never lose his precious artifact; but he also could not lend it out as he once had to Falima and Collins. And the magic died with him, an event that seemed inevitable given the power and reach of those who hunted him. Now in his forties, Zylas had given the royalty problems since his youth. On the other hand, the stone could no longer be taken from Zylas or lost by him, and not having to carry it left his hands and mouth free. Zylas’ value to the cause became wholly clear to Collins for the first time: a wise, bold, honest, and determined man with near-perfect overlap and a means to communicate with anyone in any form. Falima’s instincts were right. The renegades could not afford to lose Zylas. “I’ll do it,” he said, the words out of his mouth before he could consider them. “But I can’t take you as my partner.”

  Zylas’ mouth dropped open, revealing his little pink tongue, and his crimson eyes bulged with distress and affront. “Why not?”

  “Because they need you.” Collins made a gesture that encompassed the entire cave. From the corner of his vision, he thought he saw the sleeping dragon smile.

  Zylas dismissed the argument. “We need you, too. And you don’t have any stake in this. I’m best-suited for the job, and I go.”

  Collins could not argue. He and Zylas did work well together, though he had to correct one thing. “Oh, I do have a stake in this. I, too, have loved ones suffering by the curse and the king’s decree.”

  Zylas’ determined look went instantly blank. “You do?”

  Even before he had broken up with a girlfriend with whom he had little in common, Collins had had few close friends. Aside from Korfius, his life had only grown more empty. “You, you dim-witted quadruped. I mean you.” He turned his gaze to Falima. “And others, here, too.”

  This time an unmistakable smile stretched the old dragon’s face.

  Chapter 3

  WHILE Prinivere slept and recovered from her excursion, Zylas reminded Collins of a castle layout he still vividly remembered. The grand structure towered five stories, topped by a crenellated rooftop fitted with ballistae and patrolled by guards. The four corner towers stretched another ten feet toward the sky, and Collins could not lose the memory of jumping from one of these, Zylas in his pocket, to a cart full of hay drawn hurriedly into place by goats secretly loyal to the renegades. The hay had barely cushioned his fall, and the cart had broken, leaving him a gashed and bloody mess with several broken bones and damaged internal organs. The basement held the dungeon, where Collins had spent a restless day and night while the castle staff waited for him to take a switch-form. The basement also reportedly contained food and wine cellars and storage rooms, though he had not seen them during his imprisonment.

  The drawbridge across the moat led to two courtyards opening onto the ground floor, which held the kitchens and various workshops. Above those, the library and great dining hall were familiar to Collins. He had eaten a meal there and sneaked out, through the library, to search the uppermost floors. The third level reportedly held the servants’ quarters. The guards slept in barracks, stables, and kennels in the inner courtyard. The superiors all had horse switch-forms, and the subordinates turned into dogs. In fact, Zylas had coopted Falima from a city guard force, and they had captured Korfius from that same force to keep him quiet after he found them on a hunt.

  At some point during Zylas’ description, Collins drifted into sleep. He came awake suddenly to find himself slumped over one of the wooden chests, his arm sticky with his own drool. Now in man form, Zylas conversed in soft tones with Prinivere, his voice an indecipherable rumble and hers, as usu
al, wholly inaudible. At the end of the chest, Ijidan gnawed at a piece of orange fruit clutched between his paws while Korfius watched curiously from the ground. A short, heavyset woman prepared a dining table on one of the other chests. He saw no sign of Falima.

  Collins rubbed the sleep seeds from his eyes, wondering how long he had slept. He still felt sluggish, though time would tell if that came of recently awakening or honest tiredness. From habit, he glanced at his watch, which read 10:42 and could not be right. For Zylas to have switched, it had to be after noon. He had missed his chance to set the time by Zylas’ change, as he had done on his last visit. The modicum of light that found its way through the heavy curtain of vines told him little. “How long was I out for?” he asked with a yawn.

  All of his companions glanced at him, but only Zylas answered. “Long enough to miss three people’s switches.”

  Though self-evident and not the information Collins had wanted, he did not press for more. The spell awkwardly translated their time system into units comprehensible to him, but he doubted they measured it the same way. Hours seemed to be the same length, as all the switch times he knew about occurred on an exact o’clock so long as he set his watch by one of them. The Barakhains just seemed more naturally in tune with time and its passage, not needing artificial conveyances, perhaps because they had to gauge more accurately. It would not do, for example, for Ijidan to become a man while clinging upside down chattering from some sky-high, finger-thin branch. “Yes, I see that. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not.” Zylas easily forgave the lapse, though he suffered most from the rudeness. “It means you’re no longer upset, you’re comfortable, and you’ve got the rest you need for the mission.”

  Comfortable was hardly the word Collins would have used, though he did not contradict. With a shrug that neither acknowledged nor disputed Zylas’ claim, he headed toward the albino. Middle age coarsened features that had probably once been handsome. His ever present broad-brimmed hat shielded the almost-colorless blue eyes and skin wholly lacking pigment. Thin, white hair fell to his shoulders, perfectly matching the nearly invisible eyebrows and lashes.

  “Lunch time,” the woman at the chest called suddenly, her voice shrill.

  Collins turned to see four plates piled with objects he could not yet identify. His stomach rumbled, and he realized he had missed breakfast. Graciously, he gestured at the dragon. “My lady?”

  *You go ahead, please,* Prinivere sent. *I’d rather wait a few hours and fill up in human form. It doesn’t take as much.*

  Collins had never fully understood many of the details of the change, including digestion. He did not question Prinivere but drifted toward the makeshift table and the food it held. He realized the woman tending to lunch could only be Aisa, and her appearance surprised him. He had expected someone more like Ialin: thin, androgynous, and flitty. Aisa seemed like a perfectly normal thirty-something, with swarthy skin, finely detailed features, and a calm manner that seemed almost slow. Her only exoticisms were brilliant golden hair, short-coiffed, and steel blue eyes. She gestured him to a spot, and he sat, cross-legged, in front of it. He waited until Zylas joined him, then Aisa, and finally the squirrel, who leaped to his place but did not remain there long. Throughout their lunch, he skittered to and from the table, taking a nut or a raisin, then scampering to a safe place to eat it.

  Korfius dived into a similar plate on the floor, eating it clean before Collins could do more than examine his own food. He discovered a mixture of nuts, dried fruit and vegetables, and shriveled bugs like those he might find on a windowsill. He picked out what he liked, particularly avoiding the insects, then looked to Aisa for conversation. “Prinivere would rather eat in the form that more easily fills her belly, and I got used to having a rat steal my food. I know Falima prefers to eat in human form. Am I right in assuming the smaller, lighter form is usually preferred when it comes to meals?”

  “Not necessarily,” Zylas said around a mouthful. “Depends on what the animal form eats, personal preference.” He swallowed. “Though it is her lighter form, Falima actually chooses to eat in human form as much as possible because a continuous diet of grass gets dull.”

  Aisa piped in. “And Zylas eats anything anytime in any form.”

  Zylas smiled, shoveling in another scoop of the mixture with a hand. “That’s about right.”

  Collins crinkled his nose at the thought of what a rat might eat. “Do you prefer eating like a . . . well . . . like a bird?”

  Aisa gave a small heave at the shoulders. “Have you ever eaten like a bird?”

  “No,” Collins admitted. “Is it hard?” He remembered his aunt’s cockatiel working on an apple slice, its beak shaving off miniscule pieces while most of the fruit wound up on the cage floor.

  Aisa took a drink. “Just constant. We eat just about our own weight in food every day.” She set the mug aside. “Between flying and opening seeds, we still have trouble keeping up.” She placed her free hand on the bulge of her belly. “Obviously, that’s not a problem in human form. I forget and eat like a bird, then wind up heavier than I like.”

  Collins laughed.

  Aisa looked affronted, and even Zylas gave Collins a glare.

  “You know, Ialin uses so much energy and needs so much food in hummingbird form, he can starve to death in an hour.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at Aisa or Ialin.” Collins resumed picking through his food, separating out the bugs. “It’s just that we have an expression where I come from. Eating like a bird means just pecking a few tidbits out of the plate. Eating very light.” He laughed again. “Boy, do we have that backward.”

  Now, his companions smiled.

  Zylas swallowed. “Your people wouldn’t be as in tune with animals.”

  Korfius whined and flopped a paw on Collins’ knee.

  Collins scraped the tidbits he had selected from the rest of the food on his plate, then dumped the discards on the floor. Immediately, Korfius pounced upon them. “Oh, we’re in tune with some animals. The ones we keep as pets.”

  Before Collins could take a bite of his own meal, Korfius had finished and placed his head on the man’s thigh, begging more.

  Collins’ own words reminded him how much he looked forward to Korfius’ transition, to the chance to ask the boy his preferences while in dog form. Korfius always seemed as happy as any dog, though smarter; but Collins worried that he might be missing some important need or desire. Like being human sometimes? He cringed at the thought of losing Korfius, though he would do whatever the dog/boy preferred . . . and like it. Absently, Collins dropped his hand to Korfius’ head and scratched around and behind the floppy ears. The dog closed his eyes, in clear ecstasy.

  Zylas watched the whole display as he cleaned his own plate. “I see that.”

  Aisa also studied Collins’ every action, exploring other details. “You’re not as skinny as Zylas and Falima described you, but I can see how you stay trim with Korfius around.”

  Collins just smiled, thinking it better not to explain that he usually did not give the lion’s share of his dinner to his dog. He did not wish to risk insulting Aisa’s meal preparation, as unappetizing as parts of it were to him. It made practical sense that a parrot would construct a mixed plate of seeds, pieces of fruit and vegetables, nuts, and small bugs, even in human form. “All dogs in my world eat like that.”

  “Ours, too,” Zylas acknowledged. “But we common folk don’t get to see them a lot, unless they commandeer our larders in the name of the king.”

  Aisa made a sound, half-snort, half-squawk, that startled Ijidan. Dropping his nut, he sprang to a chest and scuttled across it to hide, flatly pressed, against the opposite side.

  Collins thought back to the meal he had taken among the servants in the king’s dining hall but could not specifically recall being able to distinguish the dog guards from the horses. At the time, his need to investigate the royal bedchambers without getting caught overcame idle curiosity. The system its
elf seemed to preclude manners given the communal serving bowls, lack of utensils, and stale bread slices used as plates. He did recall some eating their plates, soaked with the juices of the stew, and others slipping their sopping bread-plates to the dogs beneath the tables. Collins continued to scratch Korfius’ head as he considered, then dropped that line of thought. More important matters took precedence. “So, when are we going to do this sneaking-in thing?”

  Zylas sat back, folding his hands across his abdomen and exploring his teeth with his tongue. “I’m thinking tomorrow, immediately after I switch. That’ll give me the most time to work before I have to worry about lapsing into switch-form in an inopportune place.”

  Collins nodded. “I could see how that might cause a problem.” He could not imagine any disguise that might allow a rat to pass for a horse. “Isn’t it more important to know when the guard you’re impersonating changes?”

  “Same times as me. That’s why I’m the best one to go with you.”

  Collins suspected the coincidence was none at all. Likely, they had chosen which guard to pose as based on the timing of his switch. “And my guy? The one I’m supposed to be. When does he switch?”

  Zylas glanced at Aisa, and they both smiled. “Perfect switch time.”

  Wondering about the private joke, Collins looked from woman to man and back. “What do you mean by perfect?”

  “Eight in the morning,” Zylas explained, and Collins appreciated that, this time, the translating spells turned the words the rat/man actually spoke into specific “clock” times he could understand. “And six in the evening. Human by day; animal by night. People would take some pretty daunting drugs to rebalance themselves to that schedule.”

  Collins recognized the two extra hours the guard spent in animal form, which confirmed him as a Regular. A Random would split the time equally in half. Though Zylas’ description implied that the other guard spent half his time in each form, Collins believed that one a Regular, too. Random horses, like Falima, were exceedingly rare, and Regulars who preferred their human form often took herbs to become more like Randoms in this one regard. He even remembered the Barakhain word for them: masuniat. The lesariat, like Korfius preferred their animal forms. There was also a word for those who embraced the dual nature of their lives, seeing it as right and natural, but he could not recall it. “So,” Collins guessed, “we go in when they’re in animal form, so no one sees two Teds or Maxes.”