Silver Dragon Codex Page 9

  Belen silenced Cerisse with a shake of her head. “He’s absolutely right. If I let Mysos take me to Palanthas and put me in prison, even if I’m guilty, I never have to face this forest again. I never have to fix the mess I made in Angvale, and I never have to see”—her voice caught, and she had to push to continue—“I never have to see that empty nursery again.”

  She straightened, looking up first at the sun on the frosted windowsills, then back to Jace, Cerisse, and finally Ebano. “I’d just be hiding.”

  “So what do we do?” Cerisse asked, tugging nervously at her auburn braid.

  “I promised Mysos I would come back, and that’s what I’m going to do. But I’m not going with him to Palanthas. I’m coming back here, whether he likes it or not, and I’m going to find out who is really responsible.” She hugged Ebano impulsively, a bit of the circus dancer she’d been leaking through her radiant smile. “It’s late. We’ll stay here tonight, and then go back tomorrow morning. Mysos gave me three days. Once he hears what we’ve found, he’ll have to give me more time. We can find whoever did this. We can put things back the way they were.”

  “When we do,” Jace agreed with what he thought was an inspired flourish, “they’ll pay for what they did to the villagers, and to you.” Mother or not, Belen was still the most beautiful woman—dragon—he’d ever seen. Jace promised himself he’d never give up on trying to win her love.

  Ebano, for his part, simply stared at Jace with those enigmatic purple eyes.

  CHAPTER NINE

  elen’s silver wings reflected the bright morning sunlight, shining like falling stars over the thick green forest. They’d left Belen’s tower before the sun was fully in the sky, aware that the flight would take several hours. It was easier to go straight south than it had been to wander west in search of the tower. They knew where they were going, and the circus banners guided them as they came close. Eventually, those banners turned from bright spots on the horizon to fluttering pennants of silk, and Belen glided to the ground at the edge of the forest. “We’ll walk from here,” she said, transforming into her human guise, “so that the sight of a dragon doesn’t frighten anyone.”

  “That’s right,” Cerisse chuckled. “The noon show! We’ll get there right about the time everyone in the crowd is in their seats.”

  “We might even catch a bit of Hautos’s barbell juggling.” Belen smiled. “I can’t wait to see Worver and tell him everything. He’ll be so happy to know I didn’t hurt those people.” She beamed. Belen was much calmer this morning than she had been the day before. Having left behind the fears of the village and her anger at the tower, she walked down the path toward the circus with a light, determined step.

  The last of the crowd was trailing in when the companions reached the outer ring of circus tents. Brilliantly colored pennants and banners fluttered in the strong wind. Street music filled the air, and the musicians’ faces turned red as a clown’s nose as they blew into their instruments. A few stragglers were still making their way into the big three-ring tent, dragging unruly children behind them.

  The four friends passed the ticket-sellers with a friendly wave and a smile, passing beneath the gigantic, arched sign painted in reds and yellows that declared Worver’s Amazing Celestial Circus of Light to be both incredible and mind-boggling. Cerisse bought them all popcorn. They hadn’t eaten since they’d left the tower that morning, and Jace’s stomach was churning from the salty smell of buttered corn and sweet caramel apples.

  They slipped into the main tent, the sound of music jangling in their ears, and let themselves follow the crowd toward the seats. A performance was occurring in the central ring, highlighted by the blaze of three white spotlights. “That’s not Hautos,” Jace said, eyes widening. “What is Worver doing?”

  Down in the main ring, Worver had brought three large cages forward, each big enough to hold a horse. Inside these were man-sized wolves … no …

  “Are those werewolves?” Cerisse spluttered, choking on some popcorn.

  At a snap of Worver’s whip and a quick tug on a silver chain held tightly in his other hand, the werewolf in the first cage roared and rose up onto its hind legs, swiping at the air. Worver guided it out of the cage by the chain, dragging the beast by a thick leather collar around its neck. With a few more snaps of the ringmaster’s whip, the werewolf walked over to a stool and clambered upon it like one of Worver’s trained lions.

  “What is he doing?” Belen gasped. “Where did he get those werewolves?”

  “Mantano,” Ebano pointed, bursting in excitement. “Mantano!”

  He was pointing at the locks and links of Worver’s restraints. “Silver?” Jace asked. “Is that what ‘mantano’ means?”

  Ebano nodded in glee, finally learning the word he’d wanted. “Yes! Silver!”

  “That’s what you use against werewolves? Wish we’d known about that when they were attacking us,” Cerisse groused. Jace elbowed her and she yelped. “What?”

  “Those are people, Cerisse! Cursed and altered, but still humans who lived in the village of Angvale. They’re not performance animals—they’re slaves!”

  Worver’s voice boomed magically through the massive tent. “These amazing beasts are a remnant of royal wolf blood, once interbred with elves! Their twisted form—part elf, part wolf—is sign of their true nobility among the beasts of the forest. No predator can stand against them! No animal is their equal! You will see for yourselves in these few simple tricks that they have the form of an animal—but the intelligence of a man!” The crowd cheered wildly as Worver made the three werewolves do a few simple tricks—catching a ball and throwing it back, holding a hoop while another jumped through it, and counting to three when he showed them a row of brightly colored triangles.

  “I hope one of them breaks out of that collar and bites him!” Jace snarled. “How could he do this?”

  “He must not know. Worver would never enslave a person—he has to think they’re just unusual animals. He probably had someone looking for us in the woods around Angvale,” Belen guessed, “and found some of the wolves near the village. He might not even know what they are, other than magical beasts like the others he trains for the circus. We’ve got to get backstage and explain everything.”

  They crept backstage, pushing their way through crowds and sidling between rows of thrilled onlookers. The guards keeping audience members from the red curtains at the rear recognized them, greeting them in hushed whispers and quiet handshakes before pulling aside the velvet to let them slip past.

  Worver’s captured werewolves were rolled through shortly after, locked once again in their cages. The ringmaster followed behind them, rubbing his hands together in glee and chattering with the animal handlers. When his eyes fell on the companions, they opened as wide as platters, and he let out a joyful crow. “My dear, dear Belen! Jace! Cerisse and Ebano! You’re back! And you’re safe—thank goodness!” Worver clapped Ebano on the shoulder and reached to squeeze Cerisse’s arm. “Did you find what you were looking for? Mysos—that horrible mage—has had his fingers in every single nook and cranny of this circus. He’s nearly driven Hautos to drink, you know, with his poking about.”

  “No, Worver, actually—” Jace started.

  “Worver,” Belen said, “what are these creatures doing here? Don’t you know they’re dangerous?”

  “My dear, my dear! Let’s not forget what’s truly important—your well-being! Tell me, did you discover anything? Can we clear your name?” Before she could answer, Worver’s little pet, the strange horned monkey, ran up his leg and perched on his shoulder with a chirping hiss. “Yes, yes, Tsusu, you’re absolutely right. Perhaps we should have this conversation elsewhere, eh, my friends?” Worver winked, throwing his arm around Jace’s shoulder. The beast snarled down at the boy, a thin line of drool connecting its upper fangs and lower jaw. “Come with me. We’ll talk about it in one of the private wagons after these splendid beasts have been put away.”

  They foll
owed Worver as he extolled the virtues of his new pets, with Jace struggling to get a word in edgewise. “Those beasts …” the boy tried again as they wound their way through the next set of performers and out into the open area behind the main tent. Jace, Cerisse, and Belen hurried along behind Worver, trying to keep up with the ringmaster’s long, swift strides.

  “Oh, yes! Exceptional, aren’t they? Well, when you four didn’t return after a whole day, I sent Hautos after you to make certain you were all right. The storm and all—we were terribly worried, you know. Trees fell down from the winds, and the rain nearly made the roof of the tent collapse, the water was so heavy. Trouble everywhere! And then you, not coming home to tell us you were all right, what was I supposed to think?” Worver shook his head. “While he was out there looking for you, Hautos found these amazing creatures! They can’t be harmed. They are almost as intelligent as you or I—”

  “Almost?” Belen bristled, but Worver didn’t notice.

  “They learn quickly and are able to replicate any trick I teach them. They’re really quite amazing. They gave Hautos a bit of a rumble when he first captured them, tore into him quite fiercely, but the circus has ways of healing injured performers, you know that.” Quickly, he shifted the subject, eager to excite them with his find. “It was Tsusu who used silver on them first while we were trying to get them into cages. Wonderful idea! Worked like a charm.” Worver puffed up, smiling widely.

  “Hautos was hurt?” Belen and Jace shared a glance. Jace went on, “Ringmaster, he might be in serious trouble! They might have … uh …”—he fumbled for some justification, suddenly uncomfortable telling the friendly ringmaster the whole truth—“diseases!”

  “Oh, now, Jace my boy, don’t you worry about that. I’ve got secret healing ways to keep this circus in running order, you know.” Worver puffed out his chest and laid a finger beside his nose conspiratorially. “Didn’t Francis the Firebreather turn out just fine even after that unfortunate oil spill? And when Ringo, the lion, had that accident with his claw—well that worked itself out quickly, you remember? No worries, my dear boy, have no worries at all!” Worver slapped Jace’s shoulder, knocking the boy forward. “I love southern Solamnia! It seems every time I come to this area, something wonderful happens for the circus. First, Belen joined us—and you are staying, dear, aren’t you? You’ve found a way? Ah, right, right, not here, we’re almost to the wagon. Well, now, as for these magnificent beasts! Marvelous, just marvelous. They’ll bring in a lot of good solid coin, I can tell you that.”

  “Ringmaster Worver!” Cerisse broke in. “You can’t keep them!”

  “What?” he paused in the main clearing between the circus wagons. “Of course I can! They’re wild animals. No one owns them. Once we teach them a few more tricks, tame them a bit more, we can use them with the lions or let them perform on their own. You haven’t had a chance to watch them really go through their tricks yet, but they’re just—”

  “People!” Belen cried out at last, clenching her fists. “They’re people, Worver! You can’t treat them like animals! They feel and they think, and they have rights!”

  “Whatever are you talking about, poor girl?” Worver let go of Jace and reached to take Belen’s hand. He patted it gently, roughing the skin of her wrist as if to wake her from a faint. “They’re beasts! Splendid beasts.” He leaned closer. “Money-making beasts!”

  Jace’s skin crawled. Worver had always been a bit money-hungry, but the way he talked about those poor, cursed werewolves was awful—even if they’d chased Jace and nearly killed him. Jace struggled with it for a few minutes, trying to justify Worver’s point of view, but in the end he just couldn’t keep quiet. “I agree with Belen. It’s slavery to keep them. You have to let them go.”

  Worver patted his shoulder. “We’ll discuss it later, dear boy. First, I want to hear everything that happened to you and my dear Belen.”

  Tsusu howled softly on the ringmaster’s shoulder, running back and forth behind his head so quickly it jostled Worver’s top hat. “Now, now.” Worver let go of Belen and tried to soothe the beast. Turning to Jace and the others, the ringmaster said, “Let’s go inside and settle all this. It’s obvious that something’s upset you. Difficult journeys can do that to you. We’ll sit down and have a nice talk inside my wagon.” Worver reached for Belen’s elbow to encourage her along.

  Belen pulled her arm out of the ringmaster’s grip with a glare. “No. This is more important. Worver, aren’t you listening? Those animals you have locked up, they’re people under a curse, don’t you see? That’s what we found out.” She grabbed his sleeve and forced him to stop.

  “Are you sure, my dear? Perhaps you’re mistaken.” Worver looked flustered.

  “We’re very sure.” Belen met his eyes squarely. “You have to let them go.”

  “I … I can’t do that! We have shows planned, tickets that are already sold …”

  “I can’t work with a circus that keeps slaves, Worver.” Belen was unshakable, and Jace felt tremendously proud. She’d never stood up to Worver before. Maybe this was a little bit of the dragon coming out? Whatever it was, Jace agreed with it.

  “Me neither,” Jace chimed in. Cerisse was quick to nod. Jaced looked around to see what Ebano thought.

  Wait a minute. Where was Ebano?

  “You can’t possibly mean this, Belen! This is mutiny. After everything I’ve done for you?” Worver seemed genuinely hurt. He clasped one hand over his heart, his mustache trembling with woe.

  “I do mean it. I have to, Worver. I learned a lot while we were gone, and I know who—and what—I am now. There are things I just can’t allow to happen. I hope you understand.” Her voice shook a little, and Jace could see what it took for her to stand up to the man who had saved her in the woods and given her a home.

  “You really are the dragon?” Worver’s voice fell, his eyes wide. He looked at each of them, eyes questing for the truth.

  “Yes,” Belen said.

  Worver turned back to Belen, considering. “And you’re serious about leaving?”

  “Yes.” Belen lifted her head, her hair tossing about her shoulders. “And more, I’m going to free those werewolves and put them back in the forest whether you like it or not. I’m sorry, ringmaster, but you can’t convince me that keeping them is anything but slavery.”

  “Well, I don’t suppose I can convince you to change your mind, my dear, but I must say that you’ve put me in a very difficult spot. I simply can’t let them go. I’ve already got too much money wrapped up in them, you see.” He paused, sighed, and brushed his handkerchief across his forehead. “If you must go, I understand that, but please, at least allow me to offer you a place to stay the night and clean up. Here, there’s a spare wagon right beside the animal cages. You can go in there, wash up, and I’ll speak to Master Mysos and see if he’ll meet with you tonight or in the morning. You must be simply exhausted. You’re quite sure it’s not just the weariness talking?”

  “I’m sure, ringmaster,” Belen said through tight lips. “I won’t reconsider, and neither will my friends.”

  “Very well then,” Worver sighed, guiding them to a long red wagon with very thick beams holding up the flat ceiling. “Here, let me get the door.” He held it open for them, letting them pass him by and climb the stairs into the wagon.

  “A pity that it has to be this way, really,” Jace heard Worver mumble grimly as the acrobat climbed past the ringmaster and up the stairs. “And I had such glorious plans.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  t was dark inside the wagon, and only the light of the open door shed any detail on the inside. Jace’s first thought as he went through was that the ringmaster had put too much straw on the floor. He felt about in the darkness for any kind of chair or cot to sit on, cursing Cerisse’s shadow that blocked the majority of the sunlight streaming in the bright doorway. It wasn’t until the sunlight vanished behind them that he realized Worver had thrust Belen to the side, through another door, and
clanged that shut before slamming the entryway.

  Jace spun, nearly tripping over Cerisse, and realized that the inside of the wagon was lined with bars. “Worver!” he yelled, jerking on them in shock and frustration. “What are you doing?”

  Now that his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, Jace could see that they’d been guided into one of the big animal wagons. There were two cages in this wagon—one now contained Cerisse and Jace, while Belen sat up on the straw of the other where she’d been shoved. Jace panicked, grasping for his sword only to realize it’d been snatched before Worver shoved him. There were no animals in the cages—a small blessing—but the condition of the straw indicated that both sides of the wagon were normally occupied. It was likely that whatever lived here was performing in one of the rings—and would return whenever Worver said so.

  “Worver!” Jace yelled again.

  “Terribly sorry, dear boy.” Worver opened a slat in the rear of the cage, and Jace dived toward it. It was too small to slip through, but he wedged his hand in, hoping somehow to grab the ringmaster’s throat and throttle him. Worver easily dodged, and instead stung Jace’s hand with the little whip used to tame animals. “But there really is no other choice. A beastly pity! Your father was such an earner for the circus. I’d hoped you would be the same.”

  “What is this?” Cerisse wailed, scrabbling along the bars of the cage inside the wagon, looking for another way out. “What are you doing, Worver? I thought you were our friend!”

  “He’s going to kill us,” Jace snarled, jerking his hand back and leaning close to the open slat. “Or, at least, he’s going to try.”

  “Why?” Belen pounded on the wall. “Worver, you’ve always protected me, always helped me! What are you doing?”

  Outside, Worver sighed. “I have no other choice. You’ve pushed me into a corner, and I must act in order to save my livelihood—my circus, you see—and if I don’t, there are more than a few families that will be out of a job. Think of the Flying Wingates! Harwell, the clown family extraordinaire! The lions, the bears, the dancing dogs and their puppies—can you let them starve?”