The Book of Earth (39 page)

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How will we find him in this mess?

Earth imaged himself signaling the mule and the she-goat. His low bugled cry was barely audible over the neighing of the frightened horses. The torch finally burst into flame, illuminating a man dancing in and out among the others, whacking a horse here or a man there with his fist or the flat of his sword. The sudden light revealed him to the men as a stranger, and to Erde as Hal. The lancers howled their rage and humiliation, and turned on him as one. Hal ducked away from the horsemen to find himself confronting a man on foot with a sword raised to strike. Slewing his own blade around to parry, Hal lost his footing in the mud. He staggered, then dropped and rolled sideways as the other’s sword sliced downward into the black ooze. The man was young and fast and recovered quickly for another chop while Hal struggled to regain his balance. Just before his downstroke, the man cried out and erupted forward, back arched and eyes wide. His sword went flying, nearly decapitating the man racing to help him finish the stranger off. Hal stared for a split second, uncomprehending, then scrambled to his feet as the she-goat rocketed past. She saw him, skidded to a halt, and raced back again, butting and nudging him away from the fray. He swatted at her in astonishment, readying his sword again and turning, but then the mule was there with her, much more persuasive with a hank of the knight’s sleeve between his big teeth and his broad chest pressed hard against Hal’s ribs.

The lancers were recovering. A few more torches had been lit. A foot soldier spotted the stranger being dragged off into the dark by two animals that had appeared out of nowhere. The man muttered, crossed himself, then squeaked out a warning. His fellows stared. Some hesitated, a few retreated. Several of the bravest shouted a victory cry and charged, torches flaring. Hal shook the mule off and began to run.

And there, looming up before him, huge and menacing in the flickering torchlight, was every reason that the soldiers had feared going into the forest at night. They stopped dead to take in the horned head and reptilian neck, the raking claws and burning eyes of the creature that the priest had warned them about.

A dragon.

Frantically conjuring Deep Moor in her mind, Erde saw
terror and dread drain all expression from the lancers’ faces. Stock-still, bathed in torchlight, they watched the stranger-warlock sprint to meet his dragon steed, his animal familiars racing by his side. At the edge of the darkness, the demons slowed, gathered, and disappeared.

“
Y
ou mean he could do that all along? All those miles on foot when we could have been traveling like that? We could be in Erfurt now. We could be in Nürnburg!” Hal was a tall shadow stalking around the dragon and waving his arms, simultaneously apoplectic and elated. “Can he take us to Erfurt? How many can he take? Could he take a whole army?”

“Heinrich,” said Rose patiently. “You don’t have an army.”

Erde sat cross-legged on the velvet grass of the clearing in front of the farmhouse, leaning back against Raven’s shoulder, busy with her writing slate. Beside her, a lantern gave off soft, comfortable light.

HE NEEDS TO KNOW WHO HE’S TAKING, she scrawled.

She could hear the she-goat and the mule grazing serenely in the darkness along the edge of the trees. The breeze was soft and Erde was warm again. She was overjoyed to be back in this magical place, and wished she could stay this time.

Raven read her message aloud.

“He needs to know them personally?” Hal demanded.

“I understand, I think,” Rose supplied. “He needs to feel them in his mind. Each person separately. It’s like a conversation.”

Beside Erde, Doritt muttered, “I knew they’d be back, but I didn’t figure it’d be this soon . . .” She’d been talking with Raven on the porch when the dragon materialized in the clearing. She said it had sounded like music coming out
of the air. At the very same moment, Rose had woken up out of a sound sleep. She’d heard a bell ringing, one clear ethereal tone, and knew they had returned.

“Well, then we’ll just appear in the market square and snatch Margit from the stake, right out from under Fra Guill’s pointy little nose!” Hal faced Rose, hands on hips, giddy with the potential of the dragon’s latest gift. “We could do that.” He turned to Erde. “Couldn’t we?”

Rose tilted her head in disbelief. “And reveal Earth’s presence to all his worst enemies?”

“But he can escape them now. Just picture it!” Hal did a boyish clenched-fist dance of anticipation. “It’ll scare the piss out of that priest!”

“No, it’ll only give him satisfaction to see his prophecies proven true. It will add to his power.”

“It will save a life.” Hal folded his arms. “The girl offered his help—now I’m calling on it.”

“Rose, if it’ll save Margit . . .” Raven murmured. “How else can we do it?”

Erde didn’t want to seem recalcitrant. She understood the knight was challenging her to make good on her reckless promise, or be left behind for sure this time—with the rest of the women. But she had to make sure the circumstances favored success. She held her slate into the light of the lantern for Raven to read.

“She says he’s never been to Erfurt.”

“So? Does he have to have been someplace already to be able to go there? That could be awkward.”

HE NEEDS TO KNOW WHERE HE’S GOING.

Hal stared back with one eyebrow raised. Raven giggled and he glared at her.

Erde tried again, writing very small to fit it all on the slate.

HE NEEDS AN IMAGE IN HIS MIND.

“Ah.” Hal turned away, deflated.

“Can he take an image from someone else’s mind?” asked Rose.

Erde smiled at her, then erased and scribbled briefly.

“She says, ask him,” Raven supplied.

Erde did not feel possessive about the dragon. It was actually a relief to have someone else who could talk to
him for a while. She reminded him to speak to Rose very gently, and while he was at it, to get a sense of Margit from her, to fix in his mind.

Earth was willing to try, now that the danger to his friends’ friend had been explained to him. He was nowhere near as phobic about fire as he was about water, but the idea of burning to death horrified him.

“If I can put an image into his head,” Rose reported, “he will know if it’s good enough.”

Hal cleared his throat. “I have no army, Rose, and you haven’t been to Erfurt in thirty years.”

“No, it confuses my Sight to go out into the world. But Esther has, and Lily, and I can read both of them fairly well.”

“Lily’s in no shape to do anything,” said Raven.

“Linden says Lily’s fine,” Doritt countered. “She’s just bruised and tired out.”

“And terrified and grief-stricken and . . .”

“Oh, well, yes. I thought you meant . . .”

Rose raised both palms in a warding gesture, and the younger women fell silent. The lamp glare caught in Rose’s short hair to make a fiery halo around her shadowed face. Out of the light came her voice, that voice that could not be disobeyed. “We’ll let Lily sleep, as Linden has prescribed and as she deserves. Raven, would you go wake Esther?”

“Lily would want to be here if she thought she could do anything to help Margit,” Doritt mumbled, a parting shot as Raven hastened toward the house.

“We’ll see how we do with Esther,” said Rose.

“You see, Esther’s our tale-teller,” Doritt told Erde. “She has the real eye for detail.”

Erde could feel the dragon basking in all their approval, and was glad for him. He was so proud of having done something right.

“Who was it on the road?” asked Rose.

“A party of Köthen’s men, coming out from Erfurt to hunt down royalists, no doubt.” Hal spat into the grass. “He’s so unashamed of his treason, his henchmen wear his colors openly. Rose, is there any chance Köthen’s holding the prince against his will?”

“You know far better than I, Heinrich, to what depths Köthen will stoop.”

“Thought I did,” Hal muttered. “Guess I don’t.”

“Well, there’s one piece of news Lily brought that might cheer you.” Rose waited until he’d stopped pacing to listen. “The Friend is secretly arming his followers.”

“What?”

She nodded. “And the forges in the villages are hot day and night, though there’s not a weapon to be seen when the soldiers come around.”

“Lily
saw
the Friend?”

“No, but she spoke to people who had. His existence is no longer in doubt. He was three days west of Erfurt when Köthen’s coup took place. The Friend halted his progress, which Köthen took as a sign either of acquiescence or cowardice. Apparently he doesn’t take the Friend or his notions any more seriously than you do.”

“Or he’s afraid if he does, Fra Guill will get after him,” remarked Doritt.

“I took the idea of him seriously. I just wasn’t sure I believed it.”

“Now you must. Lily’s source claims he’s got three thousand men out there and the number’s growing now that Köthen’s made his move.” Rose mimicked Hal’s stance, hands on hips, and her small straight body seemed more than a match for him. “Heinrich, the Friend has your army, waiting within striking distance of Erfurt and Nürnburg.”

The knight let out a snort of dismissal. “Peasants armed with sharpened rakes and plowshares.”

“But three thousand of them.”

“Three hundred, more likely, and every one an idealist who’ll turn tail the moment he’s faced with a trained fighting man.”

“You don’t know that.” Rose cocked her head at him. “Are you afraid of actually being able to take action, Heinrich? Do you prefer hopeless causes?”

Hal winced and scowled. “Of course not!”

“Besides, what if he is the lost prince you still believe in? Don’t you want to find out?”

“Of course I do!”

“Well?”

Erde scrawled on her slate, then got up and handed it to him.

Hal turned it toward the lantern, squinting. “Hmm, well, I guess I did, didn’t I.”

“Did what?” asked Rose.

Hal’s grin was sour. “Milady reminds me I told her I could make a soldier out of anybody.” He kicked at the grass irritably, paced around a bit, and stopped at Earth’s snout to grasp his horns as if for moral support. “If he really has taken the Dragon as his sigil . . . why would he do that?”

“Oh, one more coincidence, I’m sure,” teased Rose.

“It is significant,” Hal agreed, as if he’d thought of it all himself in the first place. “I’ll search him out, at least. See what he’s really about.”

Raven hurried quietly from the house with Esther stumbling in tow. “I put tea on. Doritt, would you . . . ?”

Doritt nodded, got up, and padded into the house.

Esther rubbed her long face with both palms. “Hello, Hal. Pardon my nightdress. I thought you’d left.” She smiled at Earth sleepily. “Hello, Dragon.”

Rose was brisk. “Sorry to get you up. Are you awake? We need your help with something.”

“So Raven told me. Erfurt. I don’t know. Think it’ll work, Rose?”

Rose took her hands. “Remember the time I needed to know what a certain person looked like who you’d seen only once?”

“I remember you had to get me very drunk before I could relax enough to be useful to you.”

“But it worked.”

Esther laughed. “I thought you were making it up. Or I was.”

Hal untied the plump wineskin from the mule packs and held it out with a serious grin. “Well? Let’s get down to business.”

E
sther recalled the location perfectly. Rose translated, and the dragon took them there. Erde was amazed at how easy it was.

The place was the back courtyard of a brick maker’s, on the edge of town. Hal knew it also. It was a royalist contact site. They had settled on it, after some discussion, as a relatively safe destination, likely to be deserted in the early hours of the morning, and large enough for the dragon to shelter comfortably while the others were reconnoitering.

The courtyard was cold and dark when they arrived, with the tall cones of the brick kilns along one side and hard packed ground underfoot. After so long in the open, Erde felt immediately penned in by the brick and stone of a town. The air smelled like smoke and snow. Frigid gusts of wind tore the grit off the brick piles and flung it in her face. Hal found a straw-filled corner of a storage barn for the dragon to wait out the hours behind the brick stacks, until his skills were needed. They stowed their packs in an empty feed bin and covered them with old hay. Hal left the mule outside the door. He said when the brick makers arrived at dawn, they’d recognize him and avoid the barn without questions.