Kendra’s dragon laying an egg. No, it was already sitting on one according to Anna. Would it be fertile and hatch? Would it be a new source of magic? If so, who would know about the birth of a new dragon? Could they, meaning the Young Mage, sense it from a distance? Would he try to kill it?
Another thought interrupted my thinking. If we managed to delay replacing the egg in the Waystone, or Waystones, near Kaon, would the Young Mage’s power begin to fade? I sat beside Elizabeth on the stern of the military ship and watched the sun get lower in the sky without either of us speaking. My stomach was ready to turn, and it had nothing to do with the movement of the ship.
She finally said, “Got it all figured out?”
“There are more questions in my mind now than there were.”
“Same here.”
Bran joined us, his normal excited demeanor changed like a sharp knife that had been used to cut bone. He was dull, chipped, and not very pretty to look at. “I’m sick,” he groaned.
A sailor nearby laughed and called, “Don’t eat the greasy pork they’re serving tonight.”
Bran’s face paled even more.
“Crackers,” I said quickly. “Eat crackers and stay up here where there is fresh air.” I was thinking any mess he made might go over the side instead of having to clean it in the berth, and all of us smelling it. From the looks of him, it was only a matter of time.
He took my seat after casting a look that should have been a warning to the sailor that he’d made one too many jokes. If I was that sailor, I’d stay out of his way. If Bran felt better, he’d have taken a swing at the man.
The night air was warm, too warm to be comfortable sleeping. A sheen of sweat covered us all. In Dire, the air cooled as the sun set. I wished for that again.
Sleeping outside on the deck was a consideration if allowed. The sailors didn’t, but the confined space and old boots smell of the room where hammocks hung didn’t appeal. Bran would feel the same, only more so.
I went to the galley and grabbed a fist-sized loaf of hard bread, a few salted crackers, and sat in one of the four chairs bolted to the floor to keep them in place in heavy weather.
*Anna?*
One of the good things about talking with my mind is that I could still chew while doing so.
*Hello.*
*Are you camped at the base of the mountain?*
*Yes. Near the river. We have a path up to the dragon.*
*Our captain thinks we can sail up the river, at least, part of the way.*
She paused before answering, then said, *The river is low. There is a place where it is too shallow for any ship, but it is about halfway up the river and easily spotted. There is hardly any current.*
*Anything else?*
She giggled, which is funny when done mentally. I found myself grinning, and a sailor that entered the room looked at me warily. I must have seemed silly or daft. He took his food and departed with a backward glance as he reached the ladder.
I quizzed her on the letters, and she knew them all. I gave her three more. Yes, that was excessive maybe, but she had been doing so well and had the time to study.
I’d expected Anna to tell me more about what was happening with Kendra and the dragon. She had been quiet, too quiet. But if there was trouble, she would have shared that with me. I went into the sleeping room, which I called that because I didn’t know the correct name for it.
The smell of the sleeping compartment was not overpowering, but pervasive and unpleasant. Each breath gathered the accumulated smells born by people living in a small space. Instead of complaining, there were other things to try. First, I produced a faint fog, or mist, not much but enough to cool the room slightly.
To the fog, I subtly manipulated a few odors and made them friendly scents. I understood that even with magic, nothing is ever really created or destroyed. It is changed. A few scents were easy to make stronger, overpowering those I didn’t like. Others were reduced, a few eliminated, and even a few added, such as the scent of pine I’d been thinking about earlier. I sniffed and approved.
I went to the bow of the compartment, as far away from the exit ladder as possible, and strung a hammock for myself. The tricky part was getting in, but once that had been accomplished, I decided to let my mind wander again. There was something I missed, something my mind insisted on telling me. I refused to listen. That had been a routine for solving problems for years. Never think about it directly, but the mind will decide.
The mind decided it was time for me to sleep again. Instead of the restless, fitful sleep on the deck, this sleep was deep and dreamless. I heard others moving about the sleeping cabin a few times but managed to ignore them.
A sailor woke me. “The captain would like to speak with you, sir. He’s in the wheelhouse.”
The sun was up. I fought off the brilliant rays and followed the young man to the captain. He stood in the wheelhouse, at a table chest high, a chart unrolled in front of him.
A glance ahead revealed land. I looked down at the chart and found two tiny islands and a river inland. The chart gave depths of the water, even in the river.
He said, “Rivers are tricky. The bottoms change with time, or after storms. This one looks deep enough to sail you near your destination.”
Without thinking, I stupidly said what Anna had told me the night before, “The river is low. About halfway to the mountain is a shallow place you cannot sail past. You should let us off before that.”
His eyes told me of his anger, but I didn’t know why. I asked, “Is something wrong?”
“I do not condone liars.”
The heat in his words took me back. I said firmly, “If you’re talking about me, I do not lie.”
He balled his fists. “Do not take me for a fool. When we last spoke, you knew nothing of the area, not even where to find it on a chart. Now, you know the level of the river and the depth of the water, as well that there are rapids at the half-way mark. Yet, you claim you have not lied. Explain how that can be.”
He was correct in what he said. I didn’t feel like explaining I could “speak” over large distances just using my mind. I said, “Sir, there are things I cannot tell you, but I have not lied.”
He swung a backhand at me, not intending to strike me but to display his disbelief and disgust. No doubt, he’d treat me and those with me with less respect, and his tales would spread. There are times when a man, even the captain of a ship, needs to be gut-punched.
I smiled, which irritated him more. His mug was sitting in a ring cut in the wood to keep it from spilling or sliding in a storm. It gave me an idea.
I said, “As I said, there are things I cannot share with you. However, it appears you are almost out of drinking water.” I nodded at his mug. “May I?”
My finger lingered as he furrowed his eyebrows, trying to figure out what I meant. When his eyes drifted to the mug again, I let the water flow.”
He grabbed my finger, completely unexpectedly, and startled me. The water shot out of the end and struck him in the face before I could shut it off.
He examined my hand, fingers, tips of my fingers, and finally released me. “What sort of trick is this?”
“I cannot share what is happening and have no explanation to offer you, only that I have not lied and there are things I cannot share with you. Believe me or not. Just do as your king commanded and deliver my group and depart. And keep your tales of us to yourself.” I spun and strode away, feeling the eyes of him and the helmsman on my back.