“What does she want from you?”
“I’m not sure. I—do you think she could have known about the dragon?”
“Stands to reason,” said Franklin with a shrug. “You said her familiar was a snake, right? Did the dragon ever come out of her head?”
Chantel could not imagine a dragon emerging from Miss Ellicott’s very proper mouth, or a snake ever daring to crawl into her ear.
“We could ask him, I suppose,” she said doubtfully.
“I bet it didn’t,” said Franklin. “Otherwise what would she need you for? It’s obvious she wants you because you’ve got the dragon.”
“I didn’t, then.” Chantel thought. “And she told me she outgrew the snake.”
Franklin looked skeptical. “I wonder if she even had the snake.”
Chantel wasn’t used to hearing Miss Ellicott’s veracity doubted.
“I wonder if Karl the Bloody will think I’m dead now,” said Franklin.
“But he must’ve seen us rescue you—”
“Nah,” said Franklin. “He saw me captured by a big dragon. That’s what it must’ve looked like, if you think about it.”
He sounded hopeful.
“Why—” Chantel had been taught not to bring up difficult subjects. “Why would he—” she faltered.
“Want me dead? Because I don’t want to be a chieftain.” Franklin swung his feet, kicking the stone bench. “My older brother was supposed to be heir, but he died.”
“I’m sorry.” Chantel wondered if this was also her city’s fault. “Was it spotted swamp fever?”
“Nah. Crossbow bolt. In a battle with the warrior tribe of Shone. He died covered with honor. But you couldn’t see it for the blood.”
“Oh,” said Chantel. “Er. That’s too bad. But why do you have to be the heir? Couldn’t they just give the, er, job”—she wasn’t sure how these things worked—“to the person who’s best at, er, crossbow-bolting or whatever?”
“I suppose. But that would be me,” said Franklin, with a touch of pride. “I can shoot the head off a chicken at three hundred paces.” He frowned. “But I don’t like to. I mean, I like it better when it’s a stick. And in battle, you know, it’s not sticks or chickens.”
“I see,” said Chantel. “So you ran away. Well, you’re free of that now, anyway.”
Franklin looked doubtful. “I don’t . . . well, maybe I am.”
They talked of other things. They speculated about Lightning, and how old he was, and how many times he had been a snake and a dragon over the centuries.
It wasn’t until they were both too tired to talk anymore that Chantel remembered Franklin had wanted to look for a way out. But she didn’t remind him. They went back to the dragon’s lair.
There was no place to sleep except the dragon’s couch. It was squashily soft and covered with rich purple velvet. Franklin and Chantel got blankets from the chest and found places at the tail end of the dragon. Franklin fell asleep immediately.
Chantel did not.
First, for a long time she couldn’t stop staring at Lightning. He had gotten so very much bigger, and he was clearly an old and powerful dragon and not just a little creature she wore around her neck.
And he was snoring so loudly. Also, the waterfall was loud. And the tunnel beside it, down which the stream flowed, seemed like a place fiends might lurk. Things kept rolling over and over in her head. The sorceresses. The king. The patriarchs. Queen Haywith. She felt she had asked the queen the wrong questions. Queen Haywith had had Lightning beside her, under the apple tree. Had he once been her familiar? Had he crawled into her ear?
18
A POSITION OF STRENGTH
She must have fallen asleep eventually. Because later, she awoke to find the room bathed in a deep red glow.
She sat up. Gradually she took in the cave, the waterfall, and the sleeping dragon, and the woman perched comfortably atop his belly.
“Oh, good, you’re awake,” said Queen Haywith.
Chantel blinked and stretched. She gave things plenty of time to resolve themselves into one of those dreams where you only think you’re waking up. But when she climbed out of bed, the stone was warm and solid beneath her feet.
She looked over at Franklin. He was sound asleep.
Finally she said, “Good morning?”
“Good morning,” said the queen. “Is this the second time we’ve met?”
“Yes,” said Chantel, miffed that the queen didn’t remember.
“It is for me as well,” said the queen. “So much better when these things happen in order.”
“Will we—did we—will we meet a third time?” said Chantel.
“If we do, there will be a price to pay,” said the queen. “Magic is like that. Summonings particularly.”
“I don’t think I summoned you,” said Chantel.
“You must have.”
“I didn’t do any magic!”
“Let us surmise that you are a person with unusually strong summoning skills.” The queen looked down at the sleeping dragon. “But as this is only our second meeting, we are safe. On what may I advise you?”
“I don’t know,” said Chantel. “Er, can I trust Lightning?”
“It depends,” said the queen. “He is a dragon, and so he will always see things differently.”
“Will he hurt us?” Chantel blurted.
“These questions are too small, Chantel, girl from the May-Be.”
Chantel remembered the things she’d been wondering about. “Was . . . Is Lightning your familiar?”
“Something of that sort,” said the queen. She slid down from the dragon and came over and sat on a rock beside the pool.
“You’re a sorceress?”
“A Mage of the Dragon. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
Chantel described her visit to the castle. “Miss Ellicott used to have a snake for a familiar,” she added.
The queen looked startled. “Are you quite certain?”
“Miss Flivvers told me so. And Miss Ellicott said she outgrew him.”
“You don’t grow out of having a familiar. You grow into it,” said the queen. “If Lightning appeared to Miss Ellicott first—”
“Couldn’t it have been some other snake?” Chantel interrupted. She curtseyed. “I beg your pardon, Your Majesty.”
“No,” said the queen. “Another dragon would not have tried to manifest in Lightning Pass. That would have led to a dragon battle, which would have destroyed the city.”
“Oh.” It seemed to Chantel that the queen’s answers only raised more questions. “Are all snakes dragons?”
“If they appear as familiars, yes. That is, they have the potential to be dragons, just as the people to whom they appear have the potential to be more than they are. From what you describe, though, every step has been taken to prevent that from happening. And if Miss Ellicott never let the snake into her head, then—”
“I didn’t let Lightning into my head!” Chantel curtseyed again to cover the interruption.
“Do stop bobbing up and down,” said the queen. “You must have. At least, you had a head into which he could crawl.”
“Because I wasn’t shamefast and biddable enough?”