Below them the box was astir. “The queen has come. . . .”
“The queen? I don’t believe . . .”
In the arena, the bull faltered and fell to its knees. Soldiers galloped in and prodded it. More lizards were released, but they, too, faltered. The force of the dark and the force of the light crashed around them. Kiri strained, heady with the power that linked her and the queen and Camery.
But soldiers were dragging Teb toward the center pole. Fight them, Teb. Fight. . . we’re with you. . . . Her pulse raced; Camery’s face swam; the queen’s pale eyes seemed huge. Kiri saw the soldiers falter before they reached the pole, saw Teb spin, knocking soldiers to the ground, saw the bear grab the bull by the neck and shake it.
The bear had grown immense. It looked misty. What was happening? Shapes were dissolving, swirling. . . .
Something white like mist writhed in the arena, and the bear was gone; something gigantic and coiling, towering, a fog-thing growing denser, all pearl and silvery with light. A dragon shape—a dragon . . . and the dragon’s shoulder was red with flowing blood. A pearl-colored dragon filled the arena, its wings spread to darken the stands. The crowd cowered, silent.
The naked, blood-covered prince gathered up his dragging chain and climbed painfully to the dragon’s back. Nothing moved in all the stadium.
The dragon leaped into the sky suddenly, beating its wings across the stands so its wind tore at the cowering watchers. Kiri and Camery stared after it hungrily, pummeled by dragon wind.
There was no other sound but that wind.
The dragon swept away fast, until it was only a speck in the sky.
Then suddenly it was coming back, growing larger. But now there were more than one. “Four,” Kiri breathed. “Four.”
Four dragons filled the sky, two white and two black, now so low over the stadium that the stands and arena were dark. Their wind tore at the crowd. Huge green eyes looked down. Open mouths flamed. Teb looked down between the white dragon’s wings, laughing. Their wind was so strong that satin ripped from the king’s box. A woman shrieked. The stands exploded in panic, the thunder of running, of stampeding and screaming, filled Kiri’s ears.
One black dragon swept down so low his face was right above them, golden eyes blazing. Camery stared up, reached up to him.
Camery, he thundered in their minds. Camery . . . soon . . . I searched for you. You are safe. Soon . . . He banked, his wing sliding over them so Camery’s hands stroked ebony feathers. He lifted, twisting, blazing upward to join his brother and sisters.
The dragons swept higher as stampeding crowds fought to get out the gates. Dragon wings shattered the light when they banked. They twisted, then soared into cloud, moved fast away from the stadium, grew smaller. . . .
They were gone. Gone.
Kiri stared up at the empty sky, yearning.
Nothing moved in the arena. A tableau of bloody bodies, a few bleeding horses crowded at one end. Dead bulls, but no bear. The thunder of running and screaming still came in waves. Kiri looked down at the queen.
The four soldiers still stood at attention bearing her litter chair, but the queen did not look back. She lay sprawled across the litter chair unnaturally twisted, with the king’s jeweled knife through her heart.
Chapter 17
Kiri was not sure later how she and Camery managed to get out of the stadium, only that they kept fighting and pushing toward the nearest entry. They found themselves at last on an empty back street among the derelict buildings. Kiri’s thoughts were filled with dragons, and with the sight of the poor murdered queen. She was shivering.
When they turned to look back toward the stadium, they saw only a few stragglers wandering; the crowd, once stampeded, had been quickly absorbed back into the city. On the road that approached the palace, they saw the long procession moving upward, green uniforms and yellow. The flash of salmon pink would be Accacia’s dress.
“What did we do?” Kiri said. “What did we do back there? It was the queen’s power—the poor dead queen.” She stared at the empty sky. “Oh, the dragons, Camery. The dragons . . .”
Camery was crying. “Yes. Yes . . . He is Nightraider. . . . Oh, Kiri . . .” She dissolved into tears again.
Kiri watched her, glad for her but jealous, too. She couldn’t help the icy loneliness that gripped her. She knew quite well she should be filled with joy that there were dragons. She was, only . . . to know there truly were dragons made her yearning so much more powerful.
Camery raised her tearstained face, saw Kiri’s look, and put her arm around her. “There will be a dragon for you.”
They sat quietly for some time. Camery said, “The queen died for what she did. She died for Teb.”
“We didn’t know what she was,” Kiri said. “No one knew.”
“Dragonbard. She had the blood of the bards. That was why he locked her away.” Camery climbed onto a low broken wall, her grimy skirt blending with the stone. She pulled off the rag that covered her hair, and it spilled out golden. “Why did she come to the stadium? How did she know about Teb, what he really was? I can’t forget her eyes. She knew about us.”
“No one in the palace knew about us,” Kiri said. “The animals knew. And Papa and Garit, and Marshy. Maybe she didn’t know about us. Maybe she knew about Teb, and came there to save him. Then, when she sensed our power, she drew us there to the king’s box, to help her.”
“Maybe. But how did she know about Teb? And where is he now? Where have the dragons gone? Oh, Kiri, he was just a little boy the morning I watched him ride away a prisoner, his hands and feet tied. I thought he would die; I thought Sivich would kill him. And now—now he’s riding dragons.” She wiped away tears. “I can’t wait to see him, to talk to him.”
“I suppose he’ll return without the dragons,” Kiri said. “They would cover the city. Unless they can change into something small—tamer than a bear. They would be . . .” She stopped, stared at Camery, nearly choking. “Unless they can change . . . change into . . . Oh!” Her breath came sharply as the vision filled her mind.
“They’re not horses,” she breathed at last. “They never were horses. Two black stallions, two white mares. . . . No wonder Prince Tebmund’s horses were so wonderful. No wonder they were allowed to roam free.”
“Shape shifters,” Camery said, her eyes alight. “Dragons . . . shape shifters. All of a sudden the whole world is different.” She searched the clouds, the horizon. “Oh, Kiri, would they go to Gardel-Cloor?”
Kiri had been staring at the sky, too, praying they would return. She looked at Camery. “Oh, yes.”
Camery slipped down from the wall and tied on her dirty scarf to cover her hair. They went quickly down through the ruins.
But they had hardly reached the bottom of the rubbled slope when the city exploded into shouting, the clang of weapons, galloping across cobbles as the king’s soldiers pursued rebel forces. Camery drew the dagger from her boot, Kiri clutched her sword, and they moved in shadow into the city streets. Ahead, a band of the king’s men, unhorsed, fought against baker and tinsmith and tavern regulars who had stepped from their roles as useless drunks and now wielded weapons stolen from the king’s stores. The girls saw their own people attack and fall back into shadows, attack again, feinting, leading the king’s troops into traps; they saw their own people fall. They were motioned on each time, and they ran.