Dragonback 03 Dragon and Slave (22 page)

He was crouched safely in a dark corner of the kitchen when the
first Wistawk slave came stumbling tiredly in to collect his equipment.

The sorting out of buffers and sprays and cleaning cloths took
only a few minutes. Then they all headed upstairs, and Draycos once
again had the kitchen to himself.

The slaves' food locker was much smaller than the huge freezers
and irradiators that held the food for the Chookoock family. But it was
big enough, and adequately stocked. He chose several packages of
pre-cooked food, then added a dozen different juice bottles to his pile.

The next step was to find a way to carry everything back to the
slave compound. Fortunately, many of the packaged foods came in
identical handle bags made of a rough, dark-brown cloth. A little
ingenuity, and he was able to combine three of the bags into a sort of
backpack. A quick check out the kitchen door, and he was bounding
across the open ground toward the sports area, the thorn hedge, and the
slave compound beyond.

He couldn't head directly in that direction, though. There were
still the hidden guard posts to consider, scattered along the paths
between the various hedge openings and the house itself. Much as he
would have liked to deal with those Brummgas, this was not the time for
it. Veering in a wide circle to the northwest, he headed for a more
remote section of the hedge.

There were no guard boxes in this area. No patrols, either, at
least none that had passed by recently. Apparently, the Brummgas didn't
think any trouble could come at them except through the openings they
themselves had put into the hedge.

Of course, once he was over the hedge, there would still be a lot
of slave territory for him to search. Or maybe not. On his first
night's exploration, he'd seen four small buildings off by themselves.
With luck, one of them would be the isolation hut Noy had been sent to.

Ahead, the thorn hedge appeared, forming a darker patch against
the dark sky. Draycos picked up speed, judging his distances; and at
the right moment crouched down in his run and leaped.

Even with the extra weight on his back, the jump was an easy one
for a K'da warrior. He hit the ground with a muffled rustle of dead
leaves, and ducked into the shadow of a nearby bush.

There was no sign of Brummgas. No scent of them, either, as he
carefully tasted the night air around him.

But there
was
something odd, he realized as he inhaled
deeply. A faint scent that smelled just vaguely familiar. A scent that
reminded him somehow of Noy.

Noy?

He sniffed harder, swinging his head back and forth to try to
locate the source of the scent. It was there, all right. Somewhere to
the north, he decided. North, and a little above him.

Above
him?

He frowned upward. Surely Gazen's isolation hut wasn't built up in
the trees. Besides, the scent wasn't strong enough to be coming from
Noy himself.

He hesitated; but his instincts said this was worth checking out.
Making sure his backpack was secure, he headed north.

Almost immediately, the "above" part began to make sense. Behind a
clump of bushes the ground began to rise, and he found himself climbing
one of the many low ridges he'd already noted in this area. The scent
was still faint, but growing stronger with each step, and he continued
on until he reached the very top of the ridge.

And there, camouflaged with dead leaves and grass, was a large
mechanical device built from branches and bits of metal and wire and
plastic.

It was a glider. And not just a glider, but a glider sitting on a
makeshift catapult.

For a minute Draycos walked around the contraption, marveling at
the ingenuity of its design. He was mostly a ground warrior, and
certainly no expert at flying machines. But he was familiar enough with
them to know a properly built one when he saw it.

This one was indeed properly built. All it would take would be
some cranking on the catapult, a stretching and tightening of the
elastic ropes already in place, and the glider would shoot off the
ridge and soar into the sky.

Directly into the lasers and flame jets waiting in the white wall.

For a moment he stood there, the breeze vibrating against the
straps of his backpack. Had its builders learned about the lasers and
abandoned their scheme? Or were they still ignorant of the deadly
dangers lurking at the top of the wall, and were merely waiting for the
proper time to attempt their escape? Should he disable the craft to
make sure none of the slaves took off to their deaths?

But no. He would warn Jack, certainly, and through Jack try to
warn whoever had created this marvel. But it wasn't his place to
destroy it. Turning away from the glider, he headed east.

The first of the small huts was empty. In the second, he found Noy.

He crept up on the hut from downwind, sampling the air carefully
as he went. If the Brummgas were still looking for whoever had been
digging into their hedge, they might have left a guard to watch the boy.

But there was no scent in the area but Noy's. Once again, it
seemed, Gazen and his people had ignored an obvious security point.
Mentally shaking his head, he eased the door open.

He had hoped to be quiet enough that the boy would sleep through
his visit. But even as he pushed the door open, he realized he had
miscalculated. Noy was only half-asleep, tossing and turning on his
cot, muttering softly and incoherently under his breath.

And as the breeze whistled through the hut, Noy's sweaty face
turned toward him. The half-open eyes went a little wider . . .

Draycos froze in the doorway, waiting for him to shout or scream.
But all that escaped Noy's lips was a small whimper. "Are you here to
take me?" he whispered.

The tip of Draycos's tail curled in a frown. "What do you mean?"
he asked.

"Is it time?" Noy asked, his voice a little louder and trembling
like a flower in an earthquake.

"Time?"

The boy took a shuddering breath. "Is it time for me to die?"

Draycos's first instinct was to get out of there. To duck out of
sight, pull the door closed with the tip of his tail, and come back
later when he could deliver his package without being seen. In Noy's
feverish state, surely the boy would decide afterward that this had
been just a dream.

But the very unexpectedness of Noy's question had nailed his paws
to the floor.

And now he was stuck. Because there was no way he could leave a
sick child wondering if he was about to die. Especially not when he
thought the appearance of a K'da warrior was the omen of that death.

"No," he assured the boy in his calmest voice. "It is not time.
Not at all."

The boy blinked. "But—"

"I have brought you some food," Draycos explained. Coming all the
way into the hut, he closed the door behind him. "Also some fruit
juice," he added. "You must be very thirsty."

The boy stared as Draycos came around the side of the bed, never
taking his eyes off the K'da for a moment. "You
are
thirsty,
are you not?" Draycos tried again as he slipped off his backpack.

Noy nodded silently. "It is well that I brought this, then,"
Draycos went on, choosing one of the bottles and prying off the seal.
"I hope you like . . . I believe this is called grappo juice." He held the
bottle toward Noy.

The boy's mouth worked as if he was trying to say something. His
gaze had shifted now from the K'da's face to the bottle, and the claws
holding it. "Go ahead," Draycos said encouragingly, moving it a little
closer to him. "It will be good for you. Drink."

Slowly, Noy took the bottle. Staring down into it, he lifted it to
his mouth.

A few drops slithered down the corners of his lips. But most of
that first drink made it inside where it belonged. "How does it taste?"
Draycos asked.

Noy looked up at the K'da, then back into the depths of the
bottle. "A little funny," he said.

"Yes, that is the way of a fever," Draycos agreed. "Foods often do
not taste normal."

Noy drank again. Then, all at once, the strength seemed to go out
of his arms. The bottle started to slip from his grip—

Draycos's forepaw snaked out smoothly, catching the bottle before
it could fall. "Very good," he said as he set it down beside the cot
where Noy could reach it. "Perhaps you should rest now. You can drink
more in a little while."

"Okay," the boy said. He was starting to sag a little, and his
breathing seemed more labored. "Could I have—" He paused, looking
around as if searching for something.

"Another drink?" Draycos suggested, picking up the bottle.
"Certainly. Allow me to hold it for you."

The boy drank deeper this time before coming up for air. "Still
tastes funny," he said, panting a little. His eyelids were definitely
sagging now.

"It will taste better tomorrow," Draycos said, wishing he had had
more experience with human sicknesses. Too late, he wished he'd thought
to bring Jack's comm clip out here with him. Perhaps Uncle Virge could
have helped him know how to deal with it. "I will give you one more
drink, then I shall let you rest."

"No!" Noy gasped. His hand fumbled for Draycos's forepaw, gripping
it with an odd combination of desperation and weakness. "Don't leave
me. Please. Don't leave me."

Draycos twitched his tail in surprise. "I must," he said. "I
cannot stay."

"No," Noy said. His voice had sunk to a whisper, as if he had
already used up all of his remaining strength. "Please."

Draycos reached out with his other forepaw and stroked the boy's
sweaty forehead. A bitter memory floated up in front of his eyes: the
dead Shontine aboard his ship, the
Havenseeker
, after the enemy
ambush over Iota Klestis. Friends, companions, and fellow warriors; but
there had been nothing he could do for them. Noy, in contrast, was
almost a stranger.

But unlike those dead friends, there
was
something Draycos
could do for him. Something small; perhaps even something meaningless.
But something.

"Very well," he told the boy quietly. "I will stay with you, for
as long as I can. Lie down, now, and rest."

Noy's eyes were already closed as he sank back down onto his cot.
"Don't leave me," the boy murmured again. "I'm scared."

"I will wait with you awhile," Draycos promised, moving the food
and juice containers aside so that he could crouch comfortably beside
Noy's cot. "And do not be afraid. You have nothing to fear as long as I
am here."

Noy shivered once, his eyes moving restlessly beneath the closed
lids. Was he becoming delirious? Sliding even deeper into his fever?

Draycos sighed to himself, wishing even harder he'd brought the
comm clip. "I will sing to you," he said, for lack of anything better
to say. "A song of danger and courage, of fear and victory. Would you
like that?"

"Okay," Noy breathed, his lips barely moving.

And so Draycos began to sing.

Quietly, softly, gently. Songs of encouragement, and hope, and
strength. Some of them were the old ballads of the K'da that he had
learned as a cub. Others were his own songs, created from the joys and
sorrows of his own heart.

Songs that reminded him of his people, and of their war against
the Valahgua, and of the home they had been forced to abandon. Songs
that reminded him of the terrible responsibility that had been placed
between his claws.

Noy lay restlessly through most of it, his face and body twitching
in his sleep. Every so often he would wake up, and Draycos would give
him another drink of juice. He would then lie down again, and drift
back into his troubled sleep.

And Draycos would stroke the boy's forehead, or rest his forepaw
comfortingly on his shoulder, and resume his singing.

The night was near its end when the twitching and muttering faded
away and Noy seemed to settle into a deeper and more restful sleep. His
forehead seemed cooler to the touch, too, but Draycos had no idea
whether that was good or bad.

What he did know was that it was long past time for him to go.

"I must go now, Noy," he said. "I will come again later."

The boy just swallowed and rolled over. Sound asleep. Draycos
moved the food and juice bottles back to where Noy could reach them,
and slipped out of the hut.

The trip back to the Chookoock family side of the hedge was
uneventful. He reached the frying pan just as the stars were starting
to fade into a reddish glow in the eastern sky. "Jack?" he called
quietly, his snout pressed to the gap beneath the door.

There was no answer. "Jack?" he called, a bit more loudly. If the
Brummgas had come and taken him away . . .

"About time," Jack's voice came irritably from inside. "Come on,
come on—get in."

Draycos shoved the wooden slab inside. Jack's fingers appeared
beneath the door, beckoning impatiently. The K'da set his paw on the
hand and shifted into two-dimensional form, sliding up his host's arm
as he did so.

"Geez, but you had me worried," Jack muttered as Draycos moved to
his usual position across Jack's back. "I thought for sure you'd been
nailed. What did you do, take the scenic route?"

"Not precisely," Draycos said. "The errand took longer than
expected."

"No kidding, Sherlock," Jack said. "You have any idea what time it
is?"

"I know it is close to my six-hour time limit," Draycos said. He
hadn't realized just how close, actually, until now. The strength
flowing into him as he rested against Jack's skin made him realize just
how weak he'd been before his return. With Noy's illness filling his
thoughts, he hadn't even noticed.

"So what took so long?"

"I was with Noy," Draycos said. "He was afraid, so I sat with him
awhile and—"

"Wait a minute," Jack interrupted. "What do you mean, he was
afraid? He
saw
you?"