Callie, please! You have to leave, now!”
Leave! And go where?
Her father’s wistful, eager voice came through the keyhole. “My dear! We’re flying to the stars!” Shouting from below drowned him out, then, when Callie could hear, there came something about “your mother.”
“Go on downstairs, Father. I’ll talk to her. Calandra!” Beating on the door.
“Calandra!”
She stared out the window in a kind of hypnotic fascination. The monsters seemed uncertain about venturing into the open expanse of green, smooth lawn. They hung about the fringes of the jungle. Occasionally one lifted its eyeless head—they looked like sloths, sniffing the air and not much liking whatever it was they smelled.
A thud shook the door. Paithan was trying to break it down! That would be difficult. Because Calandra often counted money in this room, the door was strong, specially designed, reinforced. He was pleading with her to open it, to come with them, to escape. Unaccustomed warmth stole over Calandra. Paithan cared about her. He truly cared.
“Perhaps, Mother, I haven’t failed, after all,” said Calandra. She pressed her cheek against the cool glass, stared down at the expanse of moss and the frightful army below.
The thudding against the door continued. Paithan would hurt his shoulder. She’d better put an end to it. Walking stiff, erect, Calandra reached up her hand and threw the bolt, locked it fast. The sound could be heard clearly on the other side, and it was met with shocked silence.
“I’m busy, Paithan,” Calandra said firmly, speaking to him as she had spoken when he was a child, teasing her to come play. “I have work to do. Run along, and leave me alone.”
“Calandra! Look out the window!”
What did he take her for—a fool?
“I’ve looked out the window, Paithan,” Calandra spoke calmly. “You’ve caused me to make a mistake in my figures. Just take yourselves off to wherever it is you’re going and leave me in peace!”
She could almost see the look on his face, the expression of hurt, bewilderment. So he’d looked the cycle they’d brought him home from that trip with his grandfather, the day of Elithenia’s funeral.
Mother’s not here, Paithan. She won’t be here, ever again. The shouts from below grew louder. A shuffling sound came outside the door—another one of Paithan’s bad habits. She could almost see him, head bent, staring at the floor, kicking moodily at the baseboards.
“Good-bye, Callie,” he said, his voice so soft she could barely hear it above the whirring of the fan blades., “I think I understand.” Probably not, but it didn’t matter. Good-bye, Paithan, she told him silently, placing her ink-stained, work-calloused fingers gently on the door, as she might have placed them gently on a child’s smooth cheek. Take care of Papa … and Thea.
She heard footsteps, running rapidly down the hall.
Calandra wiped her eyes. Marching to the window, she slammed it shut, returned to her desk, and sat down—back stiff and straight. She lifted her pen, dipped it carefully and precisely in the inkwell, and bent her head over the ledger.
*
“They’ve stopped,” said Haplo to the dog, watching the movements of the rytans, seeing them keep to the jungle. “I wonder why—” The ground rumbled beneath the Patryn’s feet and he had his answer. “The old man’s dragon… . They must smell it. Come on, dog. Let’s get out of here before those creatures make up their minds and realize that there are too many of them to be scared of just one dragon.”
Haplo had almost reached the ladder leading to the bridge when he looked down and discovered that he was talking to. himself.
“Dog? Blast it! Where—”
The Patryn glanced back over his shoulder, saw the dog leap from the deck of the ship onto the mossy lawn.
“Dog! Damn it!” Haplo ran back across the deck, peered down over the ship’s rail. The animal stood directly beneath him, facing the house. Legs stiff, fur bristling, it barked and barked. “All right! You’ve warned them! You’ve warned everybody in three kingdoms! Now get back up here!”
The dog ignored him, perhaps it couldn’t hear over its own barking. Grumbling, dividing his attention between the monsters still lurking in the jungle and the house, Haplo jumped down onto the moss.
“Look, mutt, we don’t want company—”
He made a grab for the animal, intending to grasp hold of it by the scruff of its neck. The dog didn’t turn its head, didn’t once look back at him. But the moment Haplo drew near, the animal leapt forward and went speeding over the lawn, galloping toward the house.
“Dog! Get back here! Dog! I’m leaving now! You hear me?” Haplo took a step toward the ship. “Dog, you worthless, flea-ridden—Oh, hell!” Breaking into a run, the Patryn dashed across the lawn after the animal.
“The dog’s barking,” shouted Zifnab. “Run! Flee! Fire! Famine! Fly!”
No one moved, except Aleatha, who cast a bored glance over her shoulder.
“Where’s Callie?”
Paithan avoided his sister’s eyes. “She’s not coming.“ ‘Then I’m not either. It’s a stupid notion anyway. I’ll wait here for My Lord.” Keeping her back to the window, Aleatha walked to the mirror and studied her hair, her dress, her adornments. She was wearing her finest gown and the jewels that had been part of her inheritance from her mother. Her hair was artfully arranged in a most becoming style. She had, the mirror assured her, never looked more beautiful.
“I can’t imagine why he hasn’t come. My Lord is never late.”
“He hasn’t come because he’s dead, Thea!” Paithan told her, fear and grief shredding him, leaving him raw, burning. “Can’t you understand?”
“And we’re going to be next!” Roland gestured outside. “Unless we get to the ship! I don’t know what’s stopping the tytans, but they won’t be stopped for long!”
Paithan looked around the room. Ten humans, slaves who had braved the dragon to stay on with the Quindiniars, and their families had taken refuge in the house. The cook was sobbing hysterically in a corner. Numerous adult and several half-grown elves—perhaps the cook’s children, Paithan wasn’t certain—were gathered around her. All of them were staring at Paithan, looking for leadership. Paithan avoided their eyes.
“Go on! Run for it!” Roland shouted, speaking in human, gesturing to the slaves.
They needed no urging. The men lifted small children, the women hitched up their skirts and raced out the door. The elves didn’t understand Roland’s words, but they read the look on his face. Catching hold of the sobbing cook, they hustled her out the door and ran after the humans across the lawn, up the slight rise to where the ship stood on the top of the hill. Human slaves. The elven cook and her family. Ourselves. The best and the brightest … “Paithan?” Roland urged. The elf turned to his sister. “Thea?”
Aleatha grew paler, the hand that smoothed her hair trembled slightly. She clamped her teeth over her lower lip, and when she knew she could speak without her voice breaking, she said, “I’m staying with Callie.”
“If you’re staying, I’m staying.”
“Paithan!”
“Let him go, Rega! He wants to commit suicide that’s his—”
“They’re my sisters! I can’t run away!”
“If he stays, Roland, then I’m staying—” Rega began. The dog bounded up on the porch, shot into the hallway, gave a loud, sharp, single “Whuf!”
“They’re on the move!” cried Roland, from his vantage point by the window.
“When My Lord comes, tell him that I will be in the parlor,” said Aleatha, calmly gathering her skirts, turning her back, and walking away. Paithan started after her, but Roland caught hold of his arm. “You take care of Rega.”
The human strode after Aleatha. Catching hold of her, Roland scooped the elfmaid up in his arms, tossed her over his shoulder and carried her—head down, kicking and screaming and pummeling him on the back—out the door. Haplo rounded a comer of the house and skidded to a halt, staring in disbelief at the swarm of elves and humans suddenly appearing before him, all bound for his ship!