A Storm in the Desert: Dragonlinked Chronicles Voume 3 (50 page)

The large room was similar but entirely different from the tub room of the Bath Hall. Instead of tubs, there was a large . . . pool was the only word he could come up with. It ran across the entire back of the room. A two foot wall of solid stone fronted the thing, and a series of low steps allowed entry. Steam rose from the surface of the pool. Along the left and right walls, there were several sinks, each with washcloths and bars of soap. They were very low to the ground. There was a wooden stool before each one, and a small bucket atop each stool.

“You must hurry. The Capu should not be late to the ceremony.”

Aeron spun on the voice. A girl, or perhaps it was a boy, stood near the front wall, holding out a folded robe with both hands. A pair of smallclothes and an a’sano sat atop it. The robe looked like it might be his. It was the same pale green as the one the girls had bought him in the villages.

The pesan, Aeron assumed that’s what the child was, looked to be eight or nine years old. The kid’s head was shaved bald, and she, or he, was nearly naked. Polandra was right about the uniform. The a’sano Aeron was wearing had about ten times more material than that tiny loincloth hanging from a thin cord.

Faint chimes came from the gold hoops on the pesan’s ear. “Bathe and then change. Quickly.”

Aeron’s cheeks heated. He should not have been staring impolitely down there for so long. “Of course. Sorry.” He turned to the pool and pointed. “Do I bathe in there?”

“No.” The pesan walked to the nearest sink and stood next to the wooden stool. “Remove your a’sano and undergarments and sit. Use the bucket to get water from the sink and wet yourself. Use soap and washcloths as needed, then use the bucket to rinse, after. Towels are on the shelf, there.” After nodding at the shelves in question, the pesan glanced at the pool. “We do not have time for you to relax in there once you are clean.”

“Simple enough.”

Aeron stripped and sat before the sink. He filled the bucket with water and doused himself. The floor of the room must be angled, slightly. The water ran toward the sinks and into a narrow grating, what must be a drain system that ran below all the sinks. Grabbing a bar of soap, he lathered up his hair, snagged a washcloth, lathered it up, and made thorough use of it. As scarce as water likely was down here, this method of bathing made sense. When he was done, the bucket got tilted over his head, and sudsy water flowed into the drains.

Once he was clean, dry, and dressed, Aeron was surprised by how much better he felt.

The pesan held out a hand. Upon it sat a little pill. Almost in a whisper, the child said, “The real reason Capu Cirtis brought you here is so that I might give this to you without the guards seeing. Swallow it, now. It will be needed for one of the distractions.”

Aeron picked up the brown tablet and frowned. A distraction, eh? Capu Cirtis or the Laminae must have come up with another one. “I wondered about the bath. By the way, are you a girl or a boy?”

“Does it matter?”

Aeron grunted. “Good point.” He swallowed the pill, dry. It felt like it was stuck in his throat, so he had to swallow a few times, trying to get it to go down. “Ugh.” He grimaced.

The pesan said, “Go, now. Hurry.”

Aeron left the room.

“Good,” Capu Cirtis said. “It is time.”

Aeron followed the Capu, and the two guards brought up the rear.

Many hallways followed, these wider, more open, and decorated with vases, carpets, paintings, and such. A few people wandered about these well-lit passages, members of the Order, no doubt, or maybe visitors to Bataan-Mok. Most seemed to be heading the same direction as they were.

Aeron spied another pesan along the way and wondered how long would it take to get used to that uniform.

They are ready at the tower of rock. Fillion, however, has been asked to watch for a manis patrol that will pass nearby. He will not be part of those ready to try should the first attempt fail.

That’ll be okay. There are still three.

The rocky spire, Renata said it was called Daelon’s Staff, was the tallest of five towers of stone that stood like sentinels several hundred yards to the west of Bataan-Mok. It would serve as the perfect place for his friends to watch the ceremony in relative safety as well as assist him and Anaya with the plan.

Ahead, ruddy light came from the end of the hallway. Sunlight. Aeron quickly followed Capu Cirtis out into a large, square courtyard.

“Daelon’s Plaza,” the Capu said as he stopped just past the threshold.

The place was enormous. Aeron didn’t know where to look first.

Crowds of people filled the large, open space, talking, laughing, and jostling each other for better position. Behind him, to the left, and across the plaza, the walls were topped by covered walkways. A few people stood in their shade, staring down at the activity in the courtyard.

Large banners hung on the walls below the walkways, almost reaching the plaza floor. There was some kind of insect emblazoned on the pennons. Aeron’s brows rose when he recognized them from the Nesch’s dream, though these actually had insect heads instead of a woman’s torso. It was strange that they were here, and he wondered why they were.

To the right, the west side of the plaza had only a short wall, maybe four feet high, leaving the rest of that end open to the desert. It looked like an enormous window. Tall, thin spires of rock were visible through it, the sentinels, and beyond them, the distant horizon.

The middle of the courtyard was dominated by a low platform that was surrounded by ten manisi keeping the people back. She was there.

Anaya!

Her head lifted and she turned to him.
I see you!

Are you okay?

I am fine.

I can’t wait until we get home.

Willem can see you.

Aeron did not look to the spire where his friends watched.

Do they still have the spells on you to stop you from casting?

They do.

Alright. We’ll have to do something about those at some point.

The square stage she lay on appeared to be made of granite, all of one, enormous slab. Where had they gotten such a large piece from, and how had they brought it here? Large blocks of stone sat atop the platform, several feet in from the corners. From each of the four blocks, a heavy chain ran toward the center of the stage, to a shackle on his bond-mate’s legs.

Aeron followed Capu Cirtis to the left, to tiers of seats just outside the doorway. The covered section was set off with waist-high hand rails and was comprised of several rows of seats. Pesani were walking amongst the people seated there, handing out goblets of some kind of drink. Aeron hoped it was water. He could use some. That pill had left an odd taste in his mouth.

Nesch Takatin was already seated at the front. The man glanced at him, waved off a pesan trying to offer him a drink, and looked away. Many other people were seated in the section, dozens and dozens of them, all dressed the same. Faint tinkling came from earrings whenever one moved. Were these umeri?

The Capu walked to the front row and they sat near the end. Nesch Takatin, several seats in, did not look their way.

“Historically,” Capu Cirtis said, accepting a goblet from a pesan, “the Capu has presided over these. But, in order to get him to agree to let you say goodbye to Anaya, I asked him if he could.” He glanced at Nesch Takatin. “Of course, he was happy to.”

Aeron accepted a goblet, it was cool to the touch, and looked at the Nesch.

The dreams they’d flown, at least the first two, revealed someone who’d suffered loss, but also someone who definitely knew the truth of the First Principle and was upset that the Order continued with the lies. So why was he not working with the Capu to change the Order? Why did he want Anaya dead?

“Drink, enjoy.” Capu Cirtis raised his cup and nodded at Aeron’s. “I could not protect myself, it would appear suspicious, but you will be fine.”

What did he mean by that? Aeron glanced in the gold goblet. It looked like water. Good. He took a deep gulp and nearly choked. It was chilled white wine. With a frown, Aeron swallowed, suppressing a shudder. He hated white wine, it was much too dry for his taste. He set the goblet aside.

Capu Cirtis smiled. “Not partial to wine?”

Aeron twisted his lips. “Not white, anyway.”

A deep gong sounded and the milling crowd became quiet. Aeron looked around, wondering what it meant.

“It begins.” The Capu sat farther back in his seat.

Nesch Takatin stood and made his way out of the seating section and stopped in front of a podium a few yards beyond the rails. From where he sat, Aeron could only see the man’s profile, but he appeared to be excited.

After looking around at the people, Nesch Takatin raised his hands. “Bataan-Mok, visitors, and guests. Tonight is an historic night for the Corpus Order. Testament to the dedication and skill of our manisi fighters over the years, it has been four decades since the last dragon execution.” He placed his hands on the podium.

At those last words, uncertainty tightened Aeron’s chest. He glanced at Anaya to see what she was doing. The tawny dragon raised her head and watched Nesch Takatin.

“Not a single terrible beast has been seen since that time,” Takatin said, leaning forward. “No one has had to worry about encountering the fearsome things alone in the desert.”

Anaya cocked her head to the side and let out a little bark.

Far from sounding fearsome, she sounded happy, playful, even.

Aeron couldn’t help himself. He laughed. Surprisingly, wonderfully, he wasn’t the only one. Several in the crowd, Capu Cirtis, and even a few others in the seating section laughed or chuckled at her outburst.

Aeron looked at Nesch Takatin. His face was red, and a muscle twitched in his jaw.

“Tonight,” the man shouted over the chuckles. When the crowd grew quiet, he continued. “Tonight we will once again demonstrate and affirm our purpose, which is to protect the people of the villages by destroying the evil creatures that Yrdra created.”

Anaya chirped at him.

From somewhere in the crowd, a child’s voice could be clearly heard in the silence. “Aww, isn’t it just the cutest?”

Hands gripping the edge of the podium, lips curled in nearly a snarl, Takatin glared at Anaya. “Enough!” He turned to Aeron and pointed. “You! Say your goodbyes, for sunset is nearly upon us.”

Aeron now realized why the west side of the plaza was open to the desert. It was so the executions could be timed with sunset. A quick glance revealed Suule, swollen and ruddy, hovering between two of the tall rock spires, only minutes away from touching the horizon.

“Go,” Capu Cirtis whispered. “Now is your chance.”

Aeron stood and
smiled at Anaya.
You were perfect, dear-heart!

I thought it would be best to just be myself.

Aeron stepped onto the floor of the plaza, and strode over its large, square pavers toward the platform, to Anaya. Murmurs and mutterings started in the crowd.

“Who’s that?” “You don’t suppose that’s the dragon boy?” “Is that . . . is that
his
dragon?”

The sight of the heavy iron shackles on Anaya’s legs made him frown. No matter, they would soon be removed. He took the wide steps up to the platform and stopped next to her, staring into the beautiful gold eyes that stared back at him.

Utter stillness filled the plaza.

Throwing his arms around her neck, he hugged as tight as he could. “Gods, I missed you!”

With a chirp, Anaya lay her head upon his and wrapped him in her wings.

“It’s going to crush him!” “Someone save him!”

Aeron lowered his arms.
Let me free, dear-heart. We don’t want them to panic too much, and we have to start, anyway.

Anaya lifted her head and roared. In the stunned silence, she opened her wings and took a step back. Her heavy chains were loud in the quiet courtyard.

Aeron spoke so all could hear. “Anaya would never hurt me. She and I are bond-mates. Our very souls are linked.” He glanced at Nesch Takatin and then back at the crowd. “Dragons are not the fearsome things that you have all been led to believe they are. They are
not
the creatures Yrdra created.”

“Enough! You have said your goodbyes.” Takatin turned to the side. “Bring me the sword! It is time.”

Bring him the sword? Aeron turned to Capu Cirtis. The man looked as confused as Aeron felt. Where was the executioner?

“Lights!” Takatin looked up to the darkening sky.

Aeron felt pulses of magic from several locations, and large, sorcerous glows appeared around the plaza, casting new shadows with their illumination. At the same time, large braziers lining the walls erupted into flame. Their dancing, flickering light lit the banners behind them. The fire in one of the braziers was crackling quite a bit, shooting out sparks now and then.

A man brought out a long, heavy-looking sword. Takatin took it, turned it this way and that, testing its heft, and smiled. The smile got larger as he approached the platform.

Aeron frowned. Takatin had changed the ceremony, apparently. No matter. The plan would still work. Looking around, Aeron checked where the manisi were standing. It seemed they were all far enough away to be safe from the portal.