Third Earth, page 9
“For the dragon king. Regent Menneth.” Mom stopped digging in Dr. Buchanan’s briefcase. “Or maybe not. Handing him a demand for money seems ungrateful after all he’s done.”
Oh yeah. Third Earth. Way to spoil the mood, Mom.
“Uh,” I said. “Regent Menneth isn’t a typical job. Don’t worry about a contract.”
Mom’s hazel eyes narrowed. “Why? What’s not typical about it?”
Crap. I walked into that one. Mom asked me a direct question, and I couldn’t lie to her. How could I answer without getting myself grounded?
“He needs additional help,” I smiled. “You know, the truth is pretty useful for kings and leaders, because, umm”—Why did I stammer like a moron under pressure?—“security and stuff.”
Mom handed Dr. Buchanan the briefcase. “Security?” she said, suspicious of my weak explanation. “Is there a war on Third Earth or something?”
“Not an open war,” I replied, grateful I didn’t slur with an accidental lie. “I think he’s trying to prevent one.”
She folded her arms, thinking. “Sounds dangerous.”
“My sun larva missions aren’t a walk in the park, Mom,” I countered.
“No, but at least I know what to expect with them. How long will you be on Third Earth? What if there’s no easy answer and Menneth keeps you there? You have your education to think about, you know. What kind of Arch Mage can you be without an education on your own planet?”
I clenched my teeth and answered with patience. “All valid points. I do intend to go to school, I always have. But I’m a wizard. I’ll live for hundreds of years. Menneth needs help now. I have forever to go to school.”
Mom’s eyes moistened. “But you don’t have forever with me.”
Ouch. A perfectly genuine guilt trip. Mom didn’t even mean to manipulate me with it; she only told me her true feelings. There was no nice way to respond without giving in.
“Are you asking me to pick between you and being Arch Mage?” I asked.
Blinking, she backed off with a nervous giggle. “Don’t be silly. I’d never do that. I’m just wondering how to submit an application through the proper channels so I can officially schedule some of your time.”
“Mom!” I yelled. That was deliberate manipulation. “Really? I’m trying to be responsible here. Like you taught me.”
“I can’t help it,” she yelled back with a hint of desperation. “I have to worry about you. It’s an immutable requirement for being a mom.” She rubbed her palm across her eye. “Go, help Menneth for now, but think about spending a few weeks at home after that.” She must have recognized how awful she made me feel because she grabbed me into a firm squeeze. “And please be careful. I’ve seen dragons, and they look dangerous.”
Perfect. Now I felt tired, scared, and guilty.
10
Secret—Tunnels, Plots, and Pasts
“Relax, Agnes.” Temnon leaned into the Jent Path. “I’ve been to Third Earth a bunch of times. You’ll be fine, I promise.”
I knew he had a passion for dragons. His mentor was a dragon, after all.
“You have an Aether Stone?” I asked.
“Well, not me. My family does. Menneth doesn’t hand them out very often, but the Odonatas have been allies with Third Earth since the Great Council. When the dragons found your world, they adopted practices of society and government. Third Earth used to be survival-of-the-strongest. They were brutal back then. Associating with humans changed everything for them.”
“Grimmal says they fought nobly against the demons,” Lumi said, her whiskers twitching.
“They did. A bunch of the noblesse improved their status in that fight.”
“Meaning?” Lumi asked.
“The noblesse are high-born dragons from dominant family lines. Regent Menneth rules, and the Vice Regent and Magnus Dux share second in command. The rest of the noblesse are ranked in seniority according to their birth, and their achievements. Status is very important to dragons.”
We were getting close to the wormhole. I formed a ball of light, about the size of a basketball. As soon as the rush of the wormhole pressed on my ears, I called to Lumi.
“Lumi, catch.”
Temnon watched with interest as she batted the ball into space. Nothing happened. I threw a few more at her, and she knocked them in different directions. They sailed away in a straight line. Thinking I had time for one more, I lifted my hands, when the smallest sudden movement caught my eye.
Did that last ball change angles? It seemed to be floating on a new path. Maybe, maybe not. I just wasn’t sure. Either way, no swirling vortex of tainted magic appeared.
Fine with me. Those things were dangerous.
As the security barrier to Odric’s throne room fell, Dame Maudine wrapped up her conversation with a woman with a face as round as an apple to smile at me. When I stepped down from the landing platform, a small, dusky-skinned child with huge, black eyes and an angelic smile darted over to wrap her tiny arms around me.
“Hi, Chiri,” I said as she squeezed her chubby cheeks into my armor. I nodded politely to the other two women. “Hello, Dame Maudine. Mistress Glaydn.”
“I know your plate is full, sweetness,” Dame Maudine said, walking up to me. “But this little one heard you were coming and insisted on showing you a few new techniques.”
“Yes, yes,” Chiri squealed. “Watch this.”
Magic, like the morning sun on fresh snowfall, twinkled between her outstretched hands. A small slab of light in front of her wavered and then solidified into a silver cup. It floated, held against gravity by Chiri’s illusionist power.
“Take it,” she directed. “It’s solid enough to hold.”
I hesitated; I’d already wasted so much time.
“Go ahead,” Temnon said, apparently reading my mind. “The regent can wait another thirty seconds. I’ll go check on the new armor King Odric made for us.”
“I’ll find Grimmal,” Lumi said.
She kept a wide distance from Temnon even though they headed the same direction. Still resentful about the broken tail, I guessed. She hadn’t taken to him like she had to me. Sciftans were picky about whom they respected.
Chiri’s illusion cup felt cold and hard in my grip, and when I flicked a finger against it, it sung with a metallic clang.
“It’s perfect,” I praised. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Bet you can’t make this illusion disappear,” she challenged.
“Chiri, my specialty is revealing the truth. Even the false realities of the siren clan.” In my hand, the cup wavered, and the sharp edges blurred until only light remained. “Whether or not I can make it disappear doesn’t prove how good you are.”
A frustrated huff blew from her short, wide nose. “I’ll beat you someday.” Her little chin lifted, the loss already forgotten. “Now, you make light solid, and I’ll vanish it.”
“I’d like to see that myself,” said her tutor, Mistress Glaydn.
“Me too,” added Maudine.
I produced a small ball of visible light, infused it with my desire to form a solid shape, and handed it to Glaydn. She turned it between her fingers to study it, her own magic testing the strength of my spell, and then she flung it into the floor. It hit the stone tile with a sharp crack and bounced back to her hand. Her mouth contorted into a half-impressed line.
“Much better, Miss Agnes. Your devotion is improving your skill.”
“Thanks,” I said, “but I can’t make the light look like anything other than light.”
“You are not an illusionist,” Glaydn reminded me. “You can manipulate light because truth is light, but illusions are the opposite of truth. I never expected your magic to work as an illusionist’s does. Don’t waste time on what you can’t do, focus on what you can.”
“That’s not very much.”
Mistress Glaydn scrunched her face, thinking. “I wish I knew how to help you, but your talent doesn’t follow typical patterns. I’m afraid truth wielding isn’t a concrete discipline, but an intuitive one. The best advice I can give you is to trust yourself and allow your magic to blossom on its own terms.”
She had a great point.
With a giggle, Chiri plucked the ball of light from her hand. “Your light is so happy.” Then she blew on the ball, and it disappeared.
“All gone.” I threw my hands in the air.
“I can do that too.”
The light in front of Chiri rippled, and she vanished from sight.
“Wha—?”
Mistress Glaydn chuckled at my surprise and lifted one of Chiri’s long, black braids. To me, the braid appeared to be floating on its own.
“She is a clever student, this young Jolo princess,” Glaydn praised. “She’s bending the light. She doesn’t physically disappear. Your eyes follow the light to what’s behind her.”
“Wow. Smart,” I said. I knelt and waved my hands in the bent light until I found her ribs and tickled her. “I can’t play any more today, Chiri.”
“When are you coming back?” she said.
I didn’t answer because I honestly didn’t know. Third Earth was a trap, even Menneth knew it. I’d better take care of one more thing before I left again.
“Dame Maudine,” I said, “this sounds weird, but can I talk to your silver rattle?”
Her smile held a dash of agreement and a pound of mischief.
Dame Maudine traipsed lightly down yet another palace hallway. She didn’t run, but I still had to hustle to keep up with her. Rather than scenes and images from nature or a color palette, this hall’s theme paid tribute to manufacturing. Pedestals with glass boxes housed intricate clockwork devices common on First Earth, devices that ran on illusionist light rather than gas or electricity like on Second Earth.
“Have you contacted your son about the spies?”
“Not a shrewd strategy,” Maudine said. “We don’t know how far the radicals’ influence has spread. Thayn is there if you need him. Otherwise, best be as silent as a ghost.”
“If Thayn is your son,” I said, confused by the order of things, “why isn’t he the king of First Earth?”
“He didn’t have the support of the planet. He’s not a wizard,” she stated matter-of-factly. “There have been non-wizard kings and queens in the past, but once a wizard comes along and inherits the Odonata name, the planet usually votes them to the throne. Unless they’re an idiot, but I must emphatically point out,” Dame Maudine argued with herself, “there have never been any idiot Odonatas.”
I vaguely remembered Nemantia explaining surnames to me once. “So, Thayn isn’t a wizard, so he’s not an Odonata. What’s his last name?”
“Rayden. He’s my eldest child with my dashing second husband, Caleet. Thayn takes after me more than his father, though.”
“And your first husband?”
“Jorgan Hiatt.” Maudine sighed and fanned herself with a papery hand. “He was a general in the Lanorian army. A stunning fighter. Caleet served in the royal navy. I had a thing for soldiers, I must admit.”
I sort of knew how she felt. I had a picture of Temnon in his military uniform under my pillow in my Apex.
Distracted by imagining Temnon, I nearly ran into Maudine. She stopped to look down the hall, both ways, and then grabbed my arm and dragged me behind a pedestal. A silver lighting fixture protruded from the wall. Maudine fit nicely beneath it, but I had to lean my head to the side to avoid smashing my nose on the curving metal.
“Um…” I started, but Maudine held a finger up to my mouth.
“Since we are in a hurry, and you are on official business,” she whispered conspiratorially, “I’m going to use a shortcut, but don’t tell any paladins, especially Jenz.”
Reaching up, she hooked her finger on the lighting fixture and pulled down. With a loud click resonating in the soles of my boots, a trapdoor dropped open and we fell. It was nothing like the smooth, open ride of a Jent Path, more like a twisting water slide without the water. Maudine whooped like a rambunctious child while I flung out my arms and legs to steady myself within the tube.
“This is my favorite shortcut in the castle!” shrieked Maudine with delight.
Gravity and magic flung us through loops and spirals, dips and rises. Equally dispersed spotlights lit the tunnel with a dizzying strobe effect. A few seconds later, we burst from the ceiling. Maudine landed with grace belying her age, and I crashed into the ground in a heap. Without my armor, I might have sprained my everything. I shot her an annoyed glare, but she giggled from the rush.
I climbed to my feet and the noble face of Philomenth Odonata judged me from her portrait frame with accurately painted eyes. We were in a hallway outside of the hospital wing, the one with portraits of famous wizards. The tube really was a shortcut; we traveled to the other side of the palace in a few seconds. That’s how the royal family got around so easily.
“That was certainly quicker and more dangerous than walking,” I mentioned. “I guess the paladins know about these secret passages?”
“Some of them.” Maudine brushed a bit of dust from the portrait’s frame. “My great-grandmother,” she introduced me to the painting. “Great-grammy Phil left these shortcuts all over the palace. They’re experiments in interdimensional physics. She invented mage doors you know, with a smidge of inspiration from the dragons.” Maudine scurried to the portrait of Henri Shavier and pushed a carved fleur-de-lis in the wooden panel next to it. “I’m not supposed to show them to anyone, but I’m old, so what are they going to do to me?”
The panel slid open and we entered her inner chamber. Humming tones that didn’t make a coherent melody, she picked through her odd little belongings on a wall of shelves.
“Here it is.”
Maudine placed the rattle’s handle in my outstretched hand. It convulsed as soon as it touched my skin, and I gripped the handle tightly to keep it from leaping to the carpet.
“Kinza, I know you’re mad at me,” I said. “I don’t blame you. I was rude last time, and I’m sorry.”
Maudine’s sharp eyes snapped to me. “You’ve spoken to her?”
“I’m sorry, Dame Maudine. I followed my magic here,” I said, as the rattle jerked repeatedly, jangling bells accompanying each abrupt movement. “Kinza helped me understand that just because something is scary, that doesn’t mean it’s evil.”
“Ah.” Maudine touched her nose, making a First Earth gesture that meant she understood something. “That’s why you were in here. Learning about the megalomag that was actually a sun larva.”
“Yes. I’m so glad I didn’t kill it, and it was because of Kinza. Ow!” A violent yank pulled me off balance, and I nearly fell. “Don’t be a jerk, Kinza,” I shouted at the rattle. “I have to tell you something important.”
The rattle’s egg-shaped bulb twisted, popping three of my knuckles, and it wrenched from my hands.
“Fine,” I huffed as it rolled unevenly across the faded shag rug. “I’ll tell you anyway. You can decide if you care.”
I telepathically shoved the dreams of the cramped space, the pain, and the dryness into the rattle. I repeated the booming voice of the captor and the plea of the prisoner. Find Kinza, tell her I’m alive. The rattle stopped rolling, but Kinza stayed hidden.
“Maybe it’s just a weird dream,” I said, rubbing my fingers, “but I don’t know much about your life, and I’d feel terrible if it means something important and I didn’t tell you.”
The rattle lay like a normal object nestled in the thick rug. Maudine gave me a helpless shrug.
“Okay then, Kinza,” I said lamely. “See you later. Sorry again. And thanks again for your help.” I turned to go. “I wish she weren’t so mad at me. Maybe she knows how to find dragon spies.”
A slight musical jangle sounded from the rattle, but when we both looked back, it hadn’t moved.
“You’ll be fine, sweeting.” Maudine patted my arm. “Your gift will oust the miscreants in time for our experiment with your friend, Kymm. Lord Chevlin and I are gaga with anticipation.”
“I may not make in back in time,” I said, secretly rooting for the test’s cancellation.
“Of course, political upheaval trumps scientific curiosity, but we’ll meet as planned in Kymm’s laboratory with our hope knickers pulled up to our armpits.”
I wasn’t sure what that meant.
Maudine used a conventional route to the war room where the Odonatas hunched over three sets of new armor and two collars. Layers upon layers of spells interacted with each other, covering the armor with spells so thick they hid the red mesh.
“Fire, toxic air, sharp implements, compounded tensile strength,” Claude muttered to himself, ticking items off a list.
“Acid?” Temnon asked.
“Got it,” Claude said. “I think we’re ready for Third Earth.”
“Acid?” I said.
“Dragons have individual talents,” Temnon gushed, approaching an official designation of stats-obsessed nerd. “Most have to do with enhancing predatory skills, like swallowing giants or poison spikes. Not all dragon talents are as benign as knowledge or peace.”
“Peace is a dragon skill?” I asked as King Odric handed me my armor.
“Regent Menneth’s,” he said. “A useful skill for the leader of the dragon world.”
“Why?” I said, tracing my finger among the swirling magic particles. “I thought they were civilized.”
“Compared to wild dragons,” Temnon said, grinning with excitement, “they’re practically saints. Wild dragons will think about whether you were a friend or a foe while they’re picking their teeth.”
“Forget it.” I dumped my armor in Temnon’s arms. “Mom will kill me if I get eaten.”
Odric chuckled. “Don’t let Temnon’s macabre fascination with dragons put you off. You’ll be with Dominath, and therefore, completely protected.”
That was true. Plus, I had new armor with so many new spells they wove into each other.
Serene, whispering, added one more.
“There are quite a few spells there,” I said.
