The Dragondain (5 page)

Chapter
Three

Children of Dain

T
umbling
in the darkness, Jasper fought to regain his sense of balance, but the harder he struggled, the more he lost control. Eventually he landed, crumpled in a heap on what was surely a very thin rug covering a very hard floor. Painfully, he rolled upright into a sitting position, his eyesight blurred. Vague shapes danced before him, and he could hear sounds. The first he identified was that of a sword being drawn.

A voice shouted something in a foreign tongue. The moon coin pulsed, and in his head, Jasper heard: “Hold fast!” The trembling voice sounded young and scared.

Jasper threw up his arms protectively. Through the fuzziness, he could just make out the shape of someone pointing what must be a sword at him.

“Are you Lily?” said the nervous voice.

Several children giggled from somewhere behind. Jasper kept his hands up in the air, far away from the grip of his sword, and turned to face the sound of the giggling children. His vision was clearing, enough that he could make out three little girls sitting upright in a bed.

“That’s not a Lily!” the one in the middle laughed. “That’s a
boy
, silly!” And then all three laughed like it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard.

Jasper turned back to the boy holding the sword. He looked about ten or eleven. His sandy blond locks kept falling into his eyes as he nervously seesawed his weight from one foot to the other, the tip of his blade uncomfortably close to Jasper’s nose.

“I’m her brother,” said Jasper, as calmly as he could muster. The words came out a bit strangled, as the muscles in his throat fought to make different sounds than he’d intended.

“Whose?” said the boy, brandishing his weapon.

“Lily’s!” Jasper gasped.

“Oh, right,” he said, lowering his sword point. “Look, don’t go anywhere. All right? Just stay there. I’ll be right back.” Sheathing his sword, he scurried from the small room.

Jasper turned back to the girls and watched them leap down from the bed with a creepy catlike agility. They took a few timid steps in his direction. The leader wore a look of awe on her face, holding her open hand before her, as though reaching out for the moon coin. The others clung to her, one at each shoulder. They couldn’t have been much older than three.

“They’ve come,” the little one in the middle said, forming a fist with all her fingers save one. “The unbound are among us.” Her voice sounded nothing like any three-year-old’s Jasper had ever heard.

Jasper covered the pendant with his hand, his eyes scanning the room wildly, hoping he wasn’t alone with them. But he was.

“‘Unbound?’” he finally managed to spit out.

The little girl closed her eyes, brow furrowing in deep contemplation—a foreign look on a face so young. The other two, still firmly clinging to her shoulders, mirrored her intent expression.

“Is it the one who lives?” whispered the one clinging to her right shoulder.

“Or the one who dies?” whispered the other.

Jasper felt the hair rise on his neck and arms.

“Excuse me?” he stammered. “What did you say?”

The little girl’s open hand began to quiver, as though she were expending some great unseen force. Her chin twitched, and her tight golden curls jiggled.

Suddenly, the girl clinging to her left opened her eyes and straightened up, staring off with an oddly focused look, like she was tracking something with her eyes.

“Meeri,” she said, “Teague is coming back. Darce and Mama are with him.”

Jasper glanced to where the little girl was looking, but there were no windows—just a solid stone wall. And yet her little head continued to move as though tracking some swiftly moving object just out of sight beyond the wall of the house.

“They’re at the door,” she whispered. A second later, Jasper heard the sound of a door opening.

“How are you doing that?” asked Jasper.

Meeri, the girl in the center, opened her eyes and pursed her lips, a look on her face as though she had been foiled.

“Quickly,” she said, and in the blink of an eye their adult countenances faded. In a single catlike bound, they leapt backward and fell into the bed.

The boy, Teague, burst into the room. Close on his heels followed a teenage girl, not much older than Jasper himself. Last came a woman who looked old enough to be their mother, though she bore them no resemblance. Teague stopped dead at the edge of the rug.

“Get out of my way, Teague,” said the girl, and she checked him like a hockey player going after a puck just outside of the other team’s goal. As the two scuffled, the woman stepped forward. She was wearing a plain gray work dress, patched neatly. Her dark hair was loosely gathered behind her head, kept in place by a faded woven band. On getting her first good look at Jasper, her face fell, as though he wasn’t quite what she’d been expecting.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. But she recovered quickly, standing straight and knotting her fingers before her waist. “Well, then, are you all right?” She bent down, extending a hand. “Can you stand?”

Jasper gathered his legs under himself and slowly rose, tucking the moon coin inside his vest.

“I’m Cora,” she said, an amused grin beginning at the corners of her mouth. “This is Darce.” She motioned to the frowning girl staring at him with her arms crossed. “And I understand you’ve already met her brother, Teague?”

Jasper nodded.

“Ah, and those three little ones pretending to be asleep on the bed—those would be mine.”

The children on the bed giggled.

“I’m Jasper, Lily’s brother.”

Cora smiled warmly. “Nice to meet you, Jasper.”

After a long moment, Darce said, “Okay, so he’s here. Now can I go?”

Cora narrowed her eyes at Darce. “All right, you can go, but take him with you.”

“What?” said Darce, her eyes flashing.

“You’ll be going to see your father, I suppose?” said Cora, in a way that said she knew full well Darce’s plans.

“Yes, but—”

“No buts!” And Cora held up her hands. “You can take him with you, or you can come back outside and help finish hanging the laundry.”

Darce deflated. “Oh, all right.” She took a few steps toward the door, then turned on her heel and glared at Jasper. “Are you just going to stand there with that stupid look on your face?”

Jasper hastened to follow, but at the doorway Darce stopped and turned so fast that he bumped into her, which was a bit like bumping into a tree. Darce took a half step backward, and for a second Jasper thought she might take a swing at him; when she reached up, he flinched, to her amusement.

“Don’t worry,” she said, adjusting his collar, “I wasn’t going to hit you.”

They were so close now that Jasper could smell her hair.

Darce made a quick, military inspection of him. Then her eyes settled on his. “Don’t let
anyone
see that necklace. Father’s orders. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“No one,” she hissed. Her eyes flashed fiercely, adding a terrible weight to her command.

“Got it,” he said, fighting down the urge to salute.

Once outside, Jasper had to run to keep up with her. The streets were narrow, empty, and cold, except in the few places where the sunlight lent its bright warmth. The houses were packed on top of themselves and overhung their foundations, leaning into the streets. Jasper never once saw Darce look back to see if he was following.

Chasing the girl into a courtyard, Jasper got an eyeful of clear sky and his first sighting of the moons—half a dozen at least. Several appeared stationary, the rest moving at different rates of speed in various directions. The closest was deep-sea blue, and swallowed up half the sky.

No other sight could have brought the bedtime tales to life so vividly as the moons hanging in the sky before him.
Dik Dek
, he thought, unable to take his eyes off the great blue moon above.
And Taw, and Barreth, and was that one Min Tar? I’m really on Dain.

Many moments later, when Jasper finally came to his senses, he began looking for Darce. She was nowhere in sight. A dozen small streets and alleyways connected to the courtyard; she could have gone down any one of them. Not knowing what to do, he drifted to a gurgling fountain in the center of the courtyard.

Jasper scanned the houses facing the courtyard. They looked better-kept than the houses in the alleyways, but not by much. He thought it strange that no one should be out and about despite the houses being so densely packed. Jasper dipped his hands into the fountain. It was icy cold. To warm his hands, he unbuttoned the cloak he taken from the Tomb of the Fallen, and thrust his hands into his own jacket pockets, which were still full of LUNA Bars. Mechanically, he pulled one out, ripped it open, and took a bite. He had just begun to chew when a hand seized him by the elbow, gripping it like a vise. Darce spun him around, outraged and out of breath.

“What
are
you doing?” she demanded. “The fair is this way!” She gave a tremendous yank to get him moving again. The LUNA Bar flipped out of Jasper’s grip and fell into the fountain.

“Wait—”

“What now?” shouted Darce. She turned to look at him and stepped into a wash of sunlight. Her straw-colored hair turned golden, and her blue eyes danced with shadows and lightning bolts. Jasper felt the breath go out of him.

“What?” she shouted.

“It’s . . . nothing. Let’s go.”

Darce gritted her teeth and made a noise like an animal. She pulled on his elbow again and was off like a flash, only this time she kept a better eye on Jasper.

“Where are we going?” he called.

“To the fields.”

Jasper continued to marvel at the emptiness of the alleyways and streets that they were tearing through.

“Where is everyone?”

“Dragon Fair.” She didn’t speak the words
you idiot,
but Jasper heard them just the same.

Jasper was thrilled. “A Dragon Fair! Will there be dragons?”

Darce staggered, then stutter-stepped, then stopped. She turned and stared at Jasper with a withering look.

“What?” she said, her eyes twin storms.

“Dragons!” continued Jasper, getting more excited just thinking about it. “Will I get to talk to one?”

This idea caught Darce so off guard she flinched.

“Are you insane?” she asked, leaning forward. And though Darce was shorter than Jasper, it sure didn’t seem like it to him.

Jasper’s face fell. “What do you mean?”

Darce snatched Jasper’s collar, and once again he thought she meant to hit him. “Dragons don’t
talk
to you,” she said slowly, “they
eat
you!”

Jasper felt his mind reel off course. “But—”

“We’re celebrating killing one of the damn things.”

“Killing!” repeated Jasper, now feeling completely lost. “But why? Dragons are intelligent creatures. They’re friendly!”

Darce bared her teeth in a grimace. “I have lost friends to those fell beasts,” she said, and the anger in her eyes became so terrifying that Jasper had to fight the urge to sheer away from her gaze. “I’ll pretend you didn’t say that. But if you talk to me of such foolishness again, I promise you
will
regret it.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” said Jasper. “I’ll be more careful.”

Darce’s mood did not soften. “Come on then. We’re almost to the outer wall. Watch your step.”

Rounding a corner, they came upon a large, open tavern house. Above its doors hung a colorful sign depicting a huge singing clam. The big white pearl on the clam’s outstretched tongue appeared to bounce as the sign swayed in the light breeze. Ringing the great shell were four mermaids, also singing, in whose long flowing hair could be seen brightly colored seashells, green fish, little blue crabs, and orange starfish. The tavern was filled to bursting, and the proprietors had hastily set up taps and tables out in the street next to the big open windows. Still the crowds spilled out into the adjoining streets. Jasper thought them a shabby-looking lot, even though many were wearing their best clothes, but their merriment was clear and abundant.

A memory tugged at Jasper’s mind. More than a few of his uncle’s bedtime tales started or ended in one of the famed tavern halls of Dain. The Jabbering Tinker. The Bludgeoned Giant. The Tipsy Rinn. It made perfect sense that those who abandoned Perianth would bring to Bairne what they could to make them feel at home. And what’s more portable than a name?

“This is The Singing Clam,” said Jasper.

“Brilliant, brewmaster,” drawled Darce sardonically, dragging him through the crowd by his cloak. They ran past broken bits of wall that bordered broad, tilled fields. To their left, the long wall was in better repair the farther it swept away from them, and in less than a mile, it was fully intact. The opposite side of the valley was a mirror image. And at the valley’s terminus, a tall and grand city rose up behind the wall, all backed by breathtaking mountains.

The fields teemed with dingy tents and thousands of people. The clamor of their voices was raucous; Darce and Jasper had to shout to be heard. A haze of dust and smoke hung above it all.

Jasper tried to slow in order to get a better look at the city behind the walls, which looked vaguely familiar, but Darce kept dragging him onward.

“Where is this place?”

“What do you mean, ‘where?’”

“I mean what is the name of this place?”

Darce stopped.

“You don’t know where you are? How can you not know where you are?”

“Well, I know what moon I’m on.”

“Moon?” said Darce, looking incensed. “This is no
moon
!”

“Hey, this is my first time here. Cut me some slack.”

Darce folded her arms across her chest, tilted back her head, and stared at Jasper through the bottoms of her eyes.

“Just what part of Dain are you from?”

Jasper suddenly wished he knew what Lily had told them—and what she thought of these people. He wasn’t against giving out information to people he trusted, but Darce had put him on his guard.

“I’m not from Dain.”

“Not very likely. You flip between the common tongue and Dainish as though you’ve spoken it all your life. Granted, your accent is strange. It’s not a coastal one. It’s not even like your uncle’s.”

“My uncle has an accent?”

Darce rubbed her chin and Jasper could see she was deliberating. “Of course, no one travels much on Dain anymore, and the world
is
a large place. You could be from anywhere. My father says there are those who still brave the sea, and some even live to tell about it.”

“So how many languages are spoken on Dain?”

“There are only the two that I know of, but I’m sure there are others.” Darce took Jasper by the elbow again and yanked him forward. “Come on.”

“Wait, you haven’t told me where I am.”

Darce gave Jasper a knowing look, as if she was sure she was being played. “This is Bairne.”

Bairne,
thought Jasper,
Bairne . . .
“That’s not quite right,” he said aloud, more to himself than Darce.

“You talk just like your uncle. Now come on, we’re wasting time.”

“How long have you known my uncle?” asked Jasper, but Darce had given up trying to pull Jasper and was now walking away at a fast clip.

As Jasper took in the fair, he couldn’t stop thinking about how much it was like the Pennsylvania Renaissance Faire, only much larger, and with more realistic costumes. Darce was obviously searching for something, and she moved through the mass of people as though the rest of them were moving in slow motion. It was hard work, but Jasper found he could keep up with her as long he didn’t mind jostling and bumping into everyone he passed. Darce darted up and down long dirt and grass lanes, passing tent after tent. Some of them had their flaps tied open, and the fairgoers streamed in. The closed tents were made of heavier canvas, which gathered in folds on the ground.