King's Dragon: Chronicles of the Dragon-Bound: Book 2 Page 3

  She gave him a big hug once she had thrown the latch and opened the door. “Dax! It’s good to see you again. I’ll bet you haven’t eaten yet.” She looked at him reprovingly and tucked a strand of gray hair behind one ear. The older woman had been at the academy for as long as Dax could remember. She was also the thinnest cook he had ever seen.

  He smiled sheepishly. “Actually I had supper with Scarlet in Dinwiddie before I arrived. I saw your light on and wanted to say hello.”

  “You’d rather that than my cooking?” She shook a finger at him.

  “Now, Fanni.” He took her threatening finger in his hand and bussed her on the cheek. “I had business, but I wouldn’t mind one of your sweet rolls if there’s any left. Scarlet and I have had nothing but trail rations for the last two weeks, and I know I will not make BRC tomorrow morning.”

  She clucked with dismay and led him to the pantry. “There’s little enough left. Renshau has the cadets on special training details this week, and they come in hungry for breakfast and every other meal as well.”

  “Ah. Then I won’t trouble you.”

  “Now I didn’t say there was nothing.” She stepped into the pantry and pulled out a covered tray. She sat the tray down on the counter and swept the cover off the sweet rolls. “There be three.”

  “Three?” Dax smiled. “You will have me outgrowing my britches in no time.” Still, he took all three and put them in a small basket Fanni handed him. “You always know how to feed a growing boy.” He winked at her and picked up his travel bag with his free hand. He thanked her sincerely again as he left.

  Back across the causeway, he followed a dimly lighted path toward the officers’ quarters. Although he had told Renshau it was wasteful, the academy kept his small room available for him whenever he was at the academy. Tonight he was thankful. He wanted nothing more than to go somewhere quiet and private. There was no hope of that in any of the bachelor officers’ bunk rooms. When he opened the door, his room smelled musty from lack of use, but Dax knew he himself smelled musty from overuse. It would even out.

  #

  Noisy cadets at their midday meal crowded the dining hall’s large open space. Dax went through the serving line with the other cadets, but he chose a table in a quiet corner of the officers’ balcony overlooking the ranks of tables with their neat rows of gray-clad cadets. Down in the bustle of the main floor, he had been surrounded by a pool of silence. None of the younger cadets knew him, but they recognized his black officers’ coat. Dax had cleaned off a layer of road dirt, shaved, and trimmed his hair this morning, however his weather-beaten skin and prominent scar down his left cheek made the inexperienced students timid in his presence. Just as well too, he thought. He welcomed his solitude within the multitude.

  Solitude, that is, until Commandant Renshau appeared at his table. Dax stood up to recognize the man’s rank, but Renshau pulled up a chair and waved for him to sit down. “So, Commander Daxdendraig, you’re back. Going to report in anytime soon?” Renshau’s tone was gruff at first, but a smile broke across his face. The question finished as playful banter between friends. Renshau’s hair was steel gray, but his bearing was erect. The commandant was very old, but he was dragon-bound. Dragon-bound aged slowly.

  Dax sat down and smiled back. “I got in last night, but I wouldn’t dream of disturbing your slumber, Nale. It took most of the morning to make myself presentable for the cadets. I wouldn’t want to undermine your standards.” He sighed, picked up his spoon, and waved it over his soup. “I was going to come by later today. I really need to talk with you.”

  “Trouble with the Endellans?”

  “No, I just need some advice.” Dax stared off across the assembly of cadets below without really seeing them, thinking about blood and pain.

  Renshau arched his eyebrows. “Well, let’s make it dinner this evening at the residence. Bindle is up for a visit. Do you mind if she sits in?”

  The mention of Treyhorn’s name brought his attention back to the here and now. He smiled broadly. “I’d love to see Aunt Bindle. If we had been coming in from the south, I would have stopped to see her on the way back.”

  “It still amuses me when you call her Aunt Bindle.”

  “Well, she is my great-aunt. Since you are one of the few people who know, I like to say it to remind myself I have family.” Bindle Treyhorn had been his dragon-bound escort to Iron Moor after the hatching ceremony for Kahshect. Although Dax had not told anyone his true identity, Treyhorn, as a bastard relative of the Ambergriff line herself, had put the clues together on their trip. Her dragon, Namkafnir, had said Dax “smelled like family.”

  “Tell you what.” Renshau tapped the table with his finger. “Since Namkafnir is already in the area, I’ll send a messenger dragu to the Dragon Lands to see if Teycuktet and Kahshect can visit. We could have our own little conclave.”

  Dax’s first reaction was reluctance. He had hoped to have some time for quiet deliberation about his career as a mercenary commander. Still, he had spent plenty of time thinking on the long trip to Iron Moor—Scarlet had accused him of brooding at one point. Maybe he had done enough solitary contemplation. Having his bondmate, Kahshect, with him always helped him see things more clearly.

  Dax nodded. “Yes, maybe that would be a good idea.”

  “Fine. I’ll make the arrangements. In the meantime, dinner tonight? I’ve got something I want to run past you as well.”

  “I’ll be there. Give Bindle my best.”

  Renshau nodded and stood up. “See you this evening.” As he left, Renshau worked his way across the balcony, stopping to exchange words with several groups of officers. Soon Dax saw him down on the main floor, talking with a group of overawed plebes at a table.

  Since Dax had arrived at Iron Moor years ago, Renshau had been a father figure to him. He was the commandant, and every cadet looked up to the man. Renshau and Dax, however, were both dragon-bound. That took them off together to many formal and informal dragon-bound conclaves in both West and East Landly and even to Conclave Island itself. Dax had enormous respect for the man, and Renshau made it clear that he held Dax in high regard as well.

  #

  The commandant’s residence stood on a bluff overlooking the shore of the Circular Sea west of campus. It had a commanding view of the academy and the sprawling training grounds that stretched away in ordered, green geometry. Unlike the brick and stone architecture of the campus, the residence was a large, homey cottage of dressed logs stained dark with pitch and years. An academy steward answered the door and showed Dax in.

  Inside, the residence was more welcoming than the last time he had visited. Spring flowers brightened the entry table, and the furniture had been rearranged into a cozy grouping around the large stone fireplace. Dax smiled. Treyhorn must be spending more time at the academy these days. She and Renshau had a casual, on-and-off relationship that seemed to satisfy them both.

  Treyhorn met him at the entry to the great room and welcomed him with a hug and a kiss. She was a rangy woman hardened by her years outdoors, but she had a maternal side as well. He hugged her back with a smile. As far as Dax knew, she was his closest living relative, and she gave him the unquestioned acceptance of family. He took a deep breath and relaxed another bit. With both Renshau and Treyhorn present, Dax did feel at home.

  They ate in a comfortably informal room with windows overlooking the water. Over supper they exchanged news, gossip, and rumors of the academy, the kingdom, and the world at large. Once the food was gone, Renshau stood up. “All right, drinks on the deck,” he announced. “The sun will be setting soon.”

  He opened a cabinet near the doorway leading to the outside and took out a bottle two-thirds full of brown liquid. Holding it to the light, he examined it. “Three different malted grains roasted dark-brown, brewed, then aged twenty-five years in charred oaken casks. I save this for special occasions with other dragon-bound.”

  “And for no more than dragon-bound can drink, it would be a cheap t
reat at twice the price.” Treyhorn observed archly.

  Renshau smiled at Dax and winked. “Ah, but if you can only drink a little, why waste it on anything but the best?” He poured a small amount into three glasses and handed them around. The rich, redolent aroma made Dax’s mouth water. He followed Renshau out onto the platform. The deck had a commanding view of the water. Off to the right, the sun hung just above the ring of mountains surrounding the large inland sea. They each picked one of the big chairs and dragged them around to give them a view to the west. Just above the horizon ragged with the tops of craggy bluffs, a puffy cloud tinted pinkish orange at its edges divided the sun’s light into three large crepuscular rays boldly lancing into the darkening sky. The air was still warm enough to be comfortable, but puffs of cooler air off the sea held a reminder that it was not yet summer. Reclining in his chair, Dax swirled his drink and inhaled again to savor the aroma. He decided this was the time to tell them his decision.

  However, Renshau started the conversation. “You know, Dax, you really should be doing something more productive than chasing cattle-rustling Mencadi around the countryside.”

  For a moment Dax felt defensive. He had been going to say that he wanted a more substantial assignment, but now it felt like Renshau had implied he had been avoiding useful work. He started to speak up, but Renshau gestured for him to wait. “You’ve had more than enough experience, but lately there hasn’t been anything of real importance.” The older man smiled. “Now, however, I think there’s something coming along that may interest you.”

  Dax shook his head. “I’m not really interested in getting involved in the Vonander civil war. I don’t think I want another command.”

  “Well, of course you don’t,” Renshau replied and set his drink down. “I’m not talking about leading troops into battle, but something much bloodier.” He smiled broadly. “Politics.”

  Surprised, Dax looked at the man. “Politics?”

  Renshau nodded. “You have more than enough qualifications to take a position as a political advisor. That last special seminar you led for graduate officers, Command Implications of Supervisory Organizational Structures, showed a fine understanding of the business.” He paused and took a small sip of his drink. “Besides”—he winked—“you might say, politics is in your blood.”

  “So some lordling needs someone to keep him out of trouble?” Dax breathed in a few drops of the rich liquid from his own glass into his mouth. The taste was splendidly smooth and smoky, but it had a bite as well. “At least the Mencadi gave me a little exercise.”

  Renshau smiled and sat back in his chair. “This is a little more than petty politics. Tell him, Bindle.”

  Treyhorn had her glass in front of her chin, savoring the bouquet of her drink. She put the glass down on the arm of her chair and leaned forward. “Have you heard King Darius Ambergriff XI has died?”

  Dax’s eyebrows shot up. “No. Was it treachery?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not surprised that was the first idea that came to your mind, but no. We had word some time ago his heart was giving him trouble. His death was not unexpected, and it appears to be from natural causes.”

  He considered the information for a time. “Who rules?”

  “The transition was smooth.” Treyhorn picked up her drink again. “With the concurrence of the ruling Council of Nobles and the approval of the Assembly of Nobles, his daughter, Frieanna Delgatis, has taken the title Queen Dara Ambergriff III.” She smiled and made the motion of a toast to Dax. “The Ambergriff line remains unbroken.”

  Dax smiled and returned the toast. What did he know about the new queen? “She was his only child,” he observed. The crown normally passed down through the oldest male child, but West Landly had been ruled queens before. Dax had not returned to Tazzelton since he had fled the kingdom years ago. He had never met the woman or her father. “I can’t believe they would turn to Iron Moor for advice. Why would they bring in someone from the outside?”

  “They wouldn’t.” Renshau took another small sip of his whiskey. “No, Queen Dara seems to have set off on a long and happy reign. West Landly is doing quite well.” He smiled at Dax. “The request came from East Landly.” He nodded at Dax’s surprise. “They want someone who can act as an advisor and go-between for some delicate negotiations they have in mind with their sister kingdom on the other side of Chammanie Valley.”

  A tingle went down his back. The Great Mother had said his road lay to the east. Was this it? “What kind of negotiations do they have in mind? It can’t be trade. Both kingdoms already have free and open borders as part of their common heritage.” He looked up and saw both Renshau and Treyhorn smiling at him. “Ah,” he said as the reason dawned on him. “Queen Dara is unmarried?”

  Treyhorn nodded, picked up her glass again. She took a small sip. “We don’t know this officially, but the dragon-bound hear that King Kankasi of East Landly is thinking of marriage.”

  When the dragon-bound “heard” something, it was almost certainly true. While their bond prevented them from ever uttering a falsehood, so too the bond gave them the ability to tell when others were telling the truth—or not. Dax looked at her. “Do we know this from the king himself?”

  She shook her head. “We haven’t been that lucky, but we have two reports from dragon-bound who have talked with others in the East Landly court.”

  Dax did a little mental arithmetic. “King Kankasi is in his late fifties, is he not? And the last I’d heard, he was married.”

  “He is indeed,” replied Renshau. “His ambitions are for his son, Ruprek. They want to approach West Landly’s council before that group decides to marry the queen off to one of their own noble families. And . . .” He paused dramatically. “They need a plan.”

  Dax was puzzled. “Wouldn’t Queen Dara be in a stronger position if she acquired the support of one of the major factions within West Landly? I can’t see where making stronger ties between East and West would be of much benefit.”

  “Oh, East Landly’s ambitions go well beyond strong ties.” Treyhorn cocked her head to one side. “They see the possibility of reuniting the kingdom of Landly itself. Queen Dara is related to the East Landly royal line, and she currently rules in West Landly. A marriage to Ruprek would unite the kingdoms with a tilt toward East Landly.”

  “So they mean to undo what King Ambergriff III did when he split his kingdom between his twin sons?” Dax arched his eyebrows. “That’s no small ambition.” He considered for a time. “What do we know of East Landly? Can they really unite Landly under one rule?”

  Renshau sat there impassively, but Treyhorn pulled a face. “From what I’ve heard, I’m not impressed. Kankasi is a strong enough ruler, but he is impulsive and tacks this way and that. His attention span is short. However, his kingdom faces few real challenges, and things never get too far out of line before he goes haring off in another direction.” She shook her head. “I can’t see him as a unifying leader.” Dax made a note to ask her for details later.

  She paused to take the barest taste from her glass. “Prince Ruprek, on the other hand, seems to have no real thoughts of his own. Everything we hear says he is more interested in court life than he is in the kingdom. He’s untested, but we suspect he is weak. To be perfectly frank, Queen Dara would be a more likely person to serve as a focus for unity than either Ruprek or his father.”

  Renshau set down his glass. “However, it’s the marriage, not the unity, that this job entails. East Landly would like someone toward the end of summer.” He nodded to Dax. “I had you in mind. You’ve had enough different commands in enough situations to prove yourself as a military leader, but you’ve also shown a great deal of political awareness.”

  Dax smiled. He had drunk just enough of the liquor to feel a gentle glow in his belly. “Plus, you could tell I was getting tired of chasing raggedy bands of outlaws through the unsettled lands.”

  Renshau smiled in return. “Just so. I think it’s time you took on a ne
w challenge.”

  #

  As the sun crept lower to touch the horizon, the air cooled, and their conversation grew more personal. Dax was right about Treyhorn and Renshau. Treyhorn told him she had taken leave from her work at the Monastery of Newham. Now she was working to help Renshau with some changes at the academy.

  “Changes?” Dax put his hand on his chest in feigned shock. “I thought you had everything running smoothly, Nale.”

  “Well enough anyway,” Renshau chuckled. “However, Bindle’s right. Too many of our young women leave the academy before they reach class rank.”

  Treyhorn nodded. “We are experimenting with ideas, but it’s too soon to tell. The hazing is the worst part of it. A little adversity is a good thing to help bond the younger students. The difficult part is making sure our young women don’t get alienated before they develop a sense of belonging to the academy.”

  “Which is where you come in.” Renshau smiled and looked at Dax. “While we wait for the people from East Landly to arrive, how would you like a little project?”

  Dax looked at the man, suspicious of his smile. “What kind of project? Are you going to ask me to work with a bunch of girls? Whip them into shape so they can chase off Ugori horse thieves?”

  Renshau shook his head, picked up his glass, and took another small sip. “Now that would be a picture, wouldn’t it? Train the young ladies like you trained the Endellans, and I would soon have an all-male corps on my hands.” He set his drink on the wide wooden arm of the chair and leaned forward. “No, I had something else in mind. I’ve got a squad that needs a new advising officer. They are a bit down on their luck—no, they are well down on their luck.” He frowned. “There have been some transfers, and they haven’t bonded as group. Most are unis with a few dis. One tri. Their current ranking cadet, Dorin Tagget, is a second classman.” With a knowing look, Renshau added, “He’s been a second classman for three years.”