The Dragondain (10 page)

“The peerin is the gateway to what lies beneath. It’s what you use to see what magic is around you, to build your spells, to alter things. Of course, you can only see what you know.”

Jasper didn’t quite understand that part, but he decided to let it go for now.

“You can’t use magic without a peerin?”

“No. Not normal people, anyway, although I’ve seen Arric produce wards and small things that he must have prepared beforehand and stored in his peerin. I’ve even seen him toss them out without opening his peerin. But that’s very unusual. Besides, storing things in your peerin is unadvisable, even if you plan to use it
that
day.”

“Why’s that?”

“Stored spells and hexes can fade and break down if you don’t use them. They can become dangerous. Mom cautions us never to store
anything
in our peerins, no matter how simple.”

“How do they become dangerous?”

“Mom calls it decay. The last thing you want is something foul brewing in your peerin.”

“What about things that have had magic put into them? Swords, amulets, wands, stuff like that.”

“That’s different, and very, very difficult to do. Only the most powerful lunamancers can alter how something will behave in the presence of magic.”

Jasper thought of Meeri again. Was she storing things in her peerin? Could she, like Arric, pull prepared things out of her peerin without opening it? Or was she just doing some kind of parlor trick? Whichever, Jasper knew he would need to keep his wits about him.

“What will the Lintel boys do now that they can no longer summon their peerins?”

“I don’t know. But I can tell you one thing: without a peerin, their lives are ruined. They’ve spent their whole lives becoming two of the best lunamancers in Bairne. But I’m sure they’ll figure out something. If not, Annora and Bree will have to fix it.”

“That lunamancer, Dyre Fellbard, seemed pretty angry. Is your mom in danger?”

“I doubt it. The contests, at least at the highest levels, can be very dangerous. Everyone knows that going in. It’s one of the reasons so many of the best lunamancers come to watch, so they can help if things get out of hand. But today, without their peerins, there was nothing they could do. And they were scared. Did you see their faces?”

“Ember didn’t seem afraid.”

“Ember? You could hit Ember with a brick and she wouldn’t flinch. I’ve heard bits of stories, late at night, when the adults talk of their adventures out in the wastes. It’s really bad out there.”

“How did it get like that?”

“It’s all Wrengfoul’s doing. My dad says that before he attacked, things were wonderful. But after Perianth fell, Wrengfoul poisoned the land. It’s been wrong ever since.”

“Were the dragons always bad?”

“Yes, of course. But there weren’t so many of them.”

“And none of them had wings?”

“Wings! Thank the moons, no! Can you imagine the destruction a flying dragon could bring?”

After a bit of silence, Jasper asked, “How do the healers survive out in the wastes?”

“It doesn’t seem to bother them. My dad says that the healers have some way of blending into the places they live. Around their homes, the land becomes healed. They’re scattered all around Bairne for miles and miles. Dad says things would be much worse without them.”

Jasper turned on his side and felt the moon coin slide off his chest. In the dark, he fitted it to his palm and carefully flicked loose the fob with his thumb. Back at the Ridgegate, with Nimlinn, the little golden moons had glowed a silvery white. For now, though, everything remained dark.

Chapter Seven

Stranger

D
arce
and Teague, along with Falin, Grimm and Andra, showed up at Cora’s house at dawn. Dressed in starched white doublets, they chattered only of swordplay and tactics and whom they were likely to compete against. They made their way straight to the breakfast table, where they fortified themselves with baskets of muffins, slathered in jam.

Between bites of egg, Ridley explained to Jasper that the archery contests would be going on at the same time as the swordsmanship, but that the archery rounds typically took longer. They would have to run between the two in order to catch as much as they could, he said, polishing off a muffin.

The second day of the Dragon Fair was different from the first. The crowds were quieter, and there were fewer children running loose. The arena where Annora and Bree had competed was now covered by one gigantic tent and guarded by Dragondain.

Andra was tying herself in knots trying to decide if she should risk watching Penryn try to extend his streak as reigning champion in the ten-and-under group.

“Well?” said Falin. “It’s your call. You want to see him shoot, or not?”

“I do,” said Andra, biting her lip. “But what if someone scratches, and they move my match up?”

“Then we won’t be able to get back in time,” stated Grimm firmly.

“You’ll be out,” said Falin. “They won’t wait for you.”

Andra’s attention flicked nervously from one brother to the other. “Well,” she began, “what are the two of you going to do?”

“Whatever you decide, we’re sticking with you,” said Falin, giving his sister a hard slap on the shoulder.

Andra made up her mind. “All right. Let’s not risk it.”

Jasper and Ridley said their goodbyes and promised a report on Penryn. On the way to the archery competition, they crossed paths with Byrne, Penryn’s older brother, running toward the swordsmanship fields. Byrne was tall, thin, and light on his feet. He waved and smiled but didn’t stop.

“Aren’t you going to watch Penryn?” shouted Ridley.

“Better hurry if you want to see him—the Mastran boy has scratched!” shouted Byrne.

“But don’t
you
want to watch him?”

Byrne didn’t reply. Either he was out of earshot or ignoring Ridley.

“That’s odd,” said Ridley.

“How do you mean?”

“It’s not like Byrne to miss a final round.”

The archery fields were long, and archers filled the crowd of spectators. Suddenly, an object about the size of an apple soared over the crowd’s heads, only to be split in two a second later by an arrow. The crowd roared.

“He’s started!” shouted Ridley. “Come on!”

Ridley and Jasper fought their way to a place where they could see what was going on. Shot after shot, it appeared there was nothing Penryn couldn’t hit. Stationary targets, swinging targets, impossibly small targets hurled into the air—it was as though it would have been harder for him to miss than hit. The older archers appreciated his skill the most, shaking their heads and chuckling after every shot.

“What will it be like when he can hold a real bow?” an old woman whispered.

“What will it be like when he wields his father’s bow?” said another.

“He’ll never see that bow,” said a third, “he has two brothers ahead of him.”

“Pity.”

“Indeed, but that’s the way of it.”

“His brother Alasdair has a fine eye, and Byrne as well . . . as long as the pressure’s not on.”

When Penryn finished his first round, Ridley tugged on Jasper’s shirt. “Come on, let’s go see Andra. It’ll be a little while until Penryn’s up again. Are you hungry?”

Jasper nodded. “But I don’t have any money.”

“That’s okay, my Dad slipped me some dragon scales this morning. They’re not high enough quality for armor, but they’ll get us something to eat.”

Ridley stopped at a stall selling something that looked very much like popcorn. The woman at the counter was youthful, with a baby on her hip. Behind her a group of young girls tended the long row of kettles in which the stuff was being popped. Alongside the kettles sat a group of old men and women, who did the bagging. While waiting in line, Jasper and Ridley noticed that one of the old men had stopped his work to stare at them.

“Somebody you know?” said Ridley quietly. Jasper shook his head.

The old man had a look on his face as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. With the aid of a young boy, the old man stood and began walking over to them on his shaky, spindly legs.

“Where did you get that?” he snapped, when he was close.

Jasper felt around his neck to make sure the necklace was well hidden. It was. Probing his chest with his fingers, he was relieved to find the lump of the pendant bulging beneath his vest.

The woman, baby smiling on her hip, gave the old man a look.

“Jaynus,”she said, “sit down. You’ll fall without your canes.”

But the old man ignored her, struggling forward with the boy in tow. Bent over, and in obvious pain, he forced his legs to carry him. His hollowed-out eyes never left Jasper’s.

“Jaynus,” he said to Jasper. “Where did you ever find it?”

Jasper and Ridley exchanged troubled glances.

“Sorry,” said Jasper. “But my name is Jasper.”

Jaynus smiled, revealing his few teeth. “Is it . . . is it still there? Tell me you still have it!” He began to pinch at a seam in Jasper’s vest. “I didn’t think to ever see it again. But of course, it wouldn’t be there now.” He laughed hoarsely.

The woman stepped to Jaynus’s side and tried to take his arm. “Jaynus,” she said. “Come back and sit down.” She turned to Jasper. “He has his good days and his bad.”

Jasper looked down at the boy standing at Jaynus’s side. His eyes seemed blank and vacant, like part of his mind was missing.

“Jaynus,” said the old man, leaning forward, almost whispering. “There’s still hope. Good! Good!” The sudden excitement put a strain on him. He dipped a little, as though he might sit down right where he stood, but the young woman took his arm and supported him. She motioned quietly for Jasper and Ridley to move along. “Jaynus,” she beckoned. “Come on, now. Let’s sit back down.”

Jasper and Ridley took a step back, and the old man became agitated.

“You’ll need Rinnjinn’s help,” he shouted. “He’s the only one left who will know how to use it.”

All of Jasper’s young life, he’d only ever heard that name spoken by his family. Hearing it come out of this stranger’s mouth, unbidden, was like receiving a bolt of electricity. Now it was Jasper’s turn to gape.

Ridley gave Jasper’s arm a tug. “Come on, let’s get out of here. He’s demented.”

“No. Wait.” Jasper looked into the old man’s eyes. “What do you know of Rinnjinn?” he asked.

The old man stared at Jasper strangely. With a sudden lurch, he grasped Jasper’s collar with both hands and pulled his face close. He seemed terrified now. “Are you not I?” he demanded.

“Tell me about Rinnjinn!” persisted Jasper. “How will he be of help?”

“Who are you?” the old man snarled. “Whom do you serve?”

“I—”

The old man tightened his grip. “This is mine. Give it back!” he said.

Ridley tried to wrench Jaynus’s withered hands from the vest, but an unexpected strength had filled the man, and a fierce, wild light had entered his eyes. The young woman tried to help, but she was hampered by the baby on her hip, and Jaynus’s grip was powerful.

“Jaynus!” she shouted. And then, to Jasper, “I’m so sorry. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s a very nice man. But his mind fades.”

Suddenly, the old man let go, dropping to his knees, wheezing and coughing. The little boy, looking agitated, even pained, wrapped his arms around Jaynus’s neck.

“Do you know of Rinnjinn?” Jasper quickly asked the boy.

“That one’s a mute,” said the young woman. “And daft in the head to boot. You should go!” she urged. “Now is your chance. Go, go!”

Ridley took Jasper by the arm and pulled him hard. “Come on!”

Jasper didn’t want to go, but it was obvious that his presence was having ill effects on the old man.

“Now, that was odd,” said Ridley, after they had gained some distance. “And you say you’ve never seen him before?

“Never.”

“It was like he knew you—at first. But then he started calling you by his own name. And he seemed to think your vest was his. Where did you get it? And who’s this Rinnjinn fellow? You sounded like that name meant something to you.”

“Do you know that woman?” asked Jasper.

“Not by name, but I’ve seen her working tables outdoors at The Tipsy Rinn.”

“Can you show me where that is sometime?” said Jasper, pinching at the seams in his vest.

“Certainly. It’s not far from Tavin’s.”

Jasper trusted Ridley, but he wasn’t sure how much he wanted to spill about Barreth or the Tomb. Not yet, anyway. But he didn’t want to lie to him, either, so he just let it drop.

They arrived a few minutes before Andra’s match. She looked very nervous, but her brothers stayed close—talking up her strengths, keeping her calm.

The arena was a long rectangle, and Andra’s opponent, standing on the other side, was a young boy of the same age and height, meaning he was tall for his age. A referee met them in the middle, gave instructions, and began the bout.

Within seconds, Andra was declared the winner, having scored a point on her opponent’s heart.

“Wow!” Jasper said to Ridley. “That was fast! Do they always end so quickly?”

“Pretty much.”

“Really?”

“Yep. That’s the nature of the sword. You either know what to do or you don’t. That poor sap facing Andra didn’t have a chance. Her brothers have been teaching her since before she could walk. They learned from Dubb. And Dubb,” Ridley shook his head, “he learned from his father. Do you remember last night, when Tavin told her she had bit of The Glaive in her?”

“Yes.”

“That’s what they all call him, The Glaive, but never to his face. There is no fiercer taskmaster. Have you noticed the scars on Dubb’s and Tavin’s forearms?”

“No. And it doesn’t sound like I want to.”

In Andra’s next round, Jasper wasn’t even sure what he saw happen—they moved so fast. The rest of her matches all fell the same way.

“I had no idea,” Jasper marveled. “In the movies, it always seems to take forever.”

“Movies?” asked Ridley.

“I’ll . . . explain it later.”

“Sometimes, in the final rounds, they can go a little longer,” said Ridley. “But that’s pretty rare. And it never happens against Darce. She’s ready.”

“Ready? For what?”

“To be Dragondain.”

“But she’s . . . just a girl.”

Ridley’s mouth dropped open. “Don’t ever say anything like that out loud again. And don’t even
think
it in her presence, lest she see it in your eyes.”

Jasper smiled.

“Do you think I’m joking?” asked Ridley with utter seriousness. “I’m not.
Never
. Do you hear me?”

“Okay,” said Jasper, and he did his best to sound earnest. “But Dragondain? How old is she?”

Ridley looked around nervously and lowered his voice. “She’s fourteen. And you can bet there are a lot of fifteen-year-olds this year who are very happy about that. The Dragondain start accepting at fifteen. Falin will be in this year, Grimm next. Nye would be in this year too, if he wasn’t—you know.”

“A healer—”

“Ssshh,” hissed Ridley. “You can’t talk about that, either! Not ever! Now, it’s true that most of the . . . of the people . . . you know, like Darce—”

“You mean girls?”

“You didn’t hear
me
say that,” said Ridley. “We’re clear on that, right?”

Jasper smiled. “What? Are you serious?”

“Tell me we’re clear on that,” pressed Ridley.

“Okay, okay. You didn’t say that.”

“Good.” Ridley assessed Jasper’s sincerity before continuing. “Like I was saying, the court usually waits until
they
are sixteen. Only there’s no set rule against letting them in at fifteen. It’s more of a custom than anything else.”

“I can imagine what Darce thinks of that custom, but you really think she’ll get in?”

“Are you kidding? Who’s going to tell her no?”

In between Andra’s rounds, Darce, Falin, and Grimm congratulated her with loud shouts and happy laughter. At these times, Darce seemed like a different person, one that Jasper previously couldn’t have imagined.

“She’s really quite . . . complex, isn’t she?” said Jasper aloud, and the way he said it, the word
complex
sounded a whole lot more like the word
beautiful
.

Ridley turned to get a better look at Jasper. “Huh?”

“Darce.”

“Darce what?”

“Is she . . . I mean . . . is she going out with anyone?”

“Darce? Are you insane?”

Andra finished her last round in less than a second, taking best in her class. Falin, Grimm, and Darce rushed the field and hoisted her up onto their shoulders. Andra held up her arms to the sky and laughed, her eyes and face radiant.

That night they all celebrated with a big dinner in Cora’s cramped little house. Quib served several plates of dragon jerky as a special treat. Jasper made do with only things he felt certain were vegetables, relying on his dwindling supply of LUNA Bars for protein.

Right before going to sleep, Jasper slipped under his blanket and pulled out the moon coin. Tripping the fob, he watched anxiously as a nearly complete circle of silvery white spheres appeared—all but Earth. Staring at the little moons, he wondered when—precisely—they might all glow. Figuring out the exact timing struck Jasper as a priority. It had been many hours since his last look at the coin. He’d arrived on Dain a little after noon, almost a day and a half ago. How much longer would he have to wait? Jasper tried not to let this worry him, making a mental note to write down everything he knew as soon as he got home.

First thing in the morning, Jasper checked the coin. This time, all the spheres lit up—including Earth. Propped up on one elbow, Jasper stared at the little circle that meant home. He closed his eyes and thought about all the things he had seen and done since entering the Moon Realm. Had he accomplished all he wanted to?

Someone in the next room laughed loudly, and a voice shouted, “Dubb!” Suddenly, Jasper was reminded of one more conversation he needed to have before leaving.

Dubb must have arrived sometime during the night. He was clearly fatigued, but standing in front of Cora’s breakfast table, he couldn’t have been happier. He already had an overfilled plate tucked into the crook of his arm and was filling a second. His coarsely woven, long-sleeved shirt may have once been white but was now peppered with the dust and dirt of a long ride, and his britches were made of dragon scales, a mixed-up patchwork of many colors introduced through constant mending. There were several small areas on his thigh where Jasper could see bare skin. When Dubb moved, the armor was utterly noiseless.

“How are Bree and Annora?” asked Jasper.

Dubb shoveled a pile of bacon onto his plate. He was swaying and humming loudly and showed no awareness of Jasper’s presence, yet without looking up, he handed Jasper an empty plate and pointed around to the various selections on the table. Cora appeared, fresh from the kitchen, and held out a basket. Dubb stared at it expectantly. She pulled aside the cloth napkin, revealing steaming biscuits marbled with red berries. Dubb’s eyes locked onto them, and his hand shot out, snatching one like a man half-starved. Holding it to his nose, he took in a long, intoxicating breath.