Dragon Assassin Read online

  Can all animals read thoughts? I asked the horse.

  I do not know, human. I’m only a horse.

  Another voice appeared in my thoughts. It was Fiera. His answer is a valid one, Sir Roan. As I scan his thoughts I can see he has never connected to another human.

  I see, I thought. I think. Is it common for horses to connect with their riders?

  As far as I’m aware, no, came the dragon’s reply.

  Then why me? I asked.

  I think it would be best to have the Magician Dubi answer your question.

  Am I going crazy, Fiera? I suddenly asked.

  You appear to be of sound mind, Sir Roan.

  Which is exactly what a hallucination would tell a deranged mind.

  Fiera chuckled. Be easy on yourself, human.

  Fine, I thought. Who was the man following us?

  I did not have time to orientate on his mind, but I did catch that he was reporting to someone on our travels.

  Any idea who?

  Sadly, no.

  I frowned and headed back to the market, where the princess was just wrapping up her purchases. She seemed unaware that I had been gone. Dubi scanned me quickly, and I wondered if he, too, could read my thoughts. Once we continued on, the magician rode up next to me. “You have made contact with your mount, I see.”

  “Er, yes. Is that a problem?”

  “Not a problem at all. But very interesting.”

  “Interesting, why?”

  Dubi didn’t immediately answer; in fact, he seemed to be debating something. We left the market behind us, and soon found ourselves on a cobbled path that led, I suspected, to the castle high above. After a few minutes, Dubi answered, “Only royal blood have such connections.”

  I laughed. “Royal blood? You’re saying I’m of royal blood?”

  “Trust me, I’m as confused as you are.”

  “But aren’t you like a master magician? Don’t you know everything?”

  Now Dubi laughed. “Hardly, Sir Roan. I am only the royal family’s personal magician.”

  “Kind of like Merlin,” I said.

  “Merlin, yes. A good friend of mine, but that’s another story. But, yes, I act in a similar capacity, giving counsel to the royal family as they see fit, and sometimes...”

  “Sometimes as you see fit,” I finished.

  “Well, yes. They trust my judgment.”

  “Why am I really here, Dubi? Your Class A guards are surely competent enough to sniff-out the assassin. Why drag me here all the way from my world?”

  Dubi’s blue eyes sparkled. “If I recall, Sir Roan, you came willing enough.”

  “Well, yes. In some ways, your appearance answered a call within me.”

  “A call for what, my friend?”

  “For something more in life, something different. Something magical. Something adventurous. I have dreamed of quests all my life.”

  The magician nodded. “In a way, we have heard your call, I suspect. In a way, I think your yearning was in response to us here in the Realm.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You were meant to be here, Sir Roan.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Roan reached out and placed a warm hand on my forearm. “You inherited your love of horses from your father, true?”

  “Yes. He was an avid rider.”

  “Did your father ever speak much of his past?”

  I thought about that. “No, not always. He was an orphan without a past. He didn’t know his parents.”

  Dubi’s eyes softened, and I caught the meaning behind him. “No...” I began, knowing my mouth had dropped open.

  “Yes, my friend.”

  “My father...”

  “Your father was in grave danger, and so the decision was made to keep him safe.” He held my gaze. “He was taken to your world.”

  “But...why?”

  “It is a long story—”

  “Then cut it short,” I snapped, then softened my tone. “Please. I need to know. I’m kind of freaking out here.”

  “The king had an affair with a woman who gave birth to a son...” he let his voice trail off.

  “My father,” I said, my voice so faint I almost couldn’t hear it.

  “Indeed. He was safe for a time.”

  I grabbed Dubi’s wrist, the gesture was enough to nearly pull the old wizard from his saddle. “My father was killed, Dubi. Under, I believe, suspicions circumstances.”

  The wizard didn’t struggle. Instead, he looked at me sadly. “Not suspicious, my friend. Your father was murdered, as well.”

  Something tore through me. Pain and anger. “I...” I struggled for words but couldn’t find them.

  Dubi laid a gentle palm on my hand. “Someone is systematically assassinating royal blood. You were going to be next. And so was...”

  I looked at the princess, my mouth dropping again.

  “Yes,” answered the magician. “The princess, too.”

  My spinning brain did the genealogical calculations. “That would make the princess my father’s half sister...my aunt.”

  “In theory. But she is not of royal blood.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The king was a very old man when he was assassinated, my friend. The princess came to him late in life.”

  “Came to him? She is adopted?”

  “Yes.”

  I thought I might get dizzy. Although I was still holding tightly onto the wizard’s wrist, I was fairly certain it was he who was keeping me from losing my balance upon the mount.

  “A lot to comprehend at one time, I know, my friend,” he said gently. “But better now than later.”

  I nodded, and released his arm. My father had been murdered. The princess was adopted. My father was of royal blood. I was of royal blood. Someone was systematically assassinating the royal family. I was next, and so was the princess.

  Yes, a lot to comprehend. Perhaps even too much. I thought of my father. We hadn’t been close these past two years. I had always thought he and I would rekindle our relationship. His premature death removed that option.

  Not death, I thought. His murder.

  “And you do not know who killed my father or my...”

  “Your grandfather? No, I do not. The assassin is unknown to me.”

  “So you need my help after all.”

  “Indeed.”

  I set my jaw and leaned forward a little in the saddle. “I want you to show me where my grandfather was killed.” I didn’t know much, but I knew how to solve a crime.

  “Very well, Sir Roan,” said the old wizard, nodding, and we continued up to the castle.

  Chapter Six

  Then I got an idea. I rode over to join Boffo. “That spy I chased—did you recognize him?”

  “You figure one criminal should know another?” he inquired caustically.

  “I figure he might. That man was obviously spying on the princess.”

  “Oh, unicorn turds!” he swore. He didn’t like me, but he had to help the princess. “Yes. He ’s a low-level skulker who does work for Lord Mephisto.”

  Bulls-eye! “And why would Lord Mephisto be tracking the princess?”

  “He’s a rival claimant to the throne. Distant lineage, no chance unless all royals are gone.” Then he did a double-take. “That’s why we were sent after the princess. Not for hostage, but for Mephisto to marry, so he could claim the throne. If by some freak mischance we killed the Warriors and actually captured her.”

  “You don’t approve?”

  “It’d have been fine with me. Until she kissed me. Now I want to cut his balls off and stuff them up his rump before I start torturing him.”

  What a difference love made! “Thank you,” I said unnecessarily, and rejoined Dubi. “That spy I chased—he works for Lord Mephisto.”

  “Who is number one on my suspicion list,” Dubi said darkly. “But we can’t prove it.”

  And couldn’t risk an accusation without solid eviden
ce. Ever thus. They did need my services.

  We came to the castle. It was a fine fortress in itself, with a moat formed by a divided river, massive outer walls, and lofty turrets. The drawbridge cranked down and clanked into place so we could ride across. I saw crossbows lining the crenelated wall immediately ahead; no unwanted intruders would pass.

  But once we passed the exterior battlements, the castle was surprisingly gracious. Tapestries were hung on the walls, and ornamental plants decorated the courtyard where we dismounted. Grooms came to take the horses.

  “We will rejoin you soon, princess,” Dubi said. Then he led me down a side hall, through winding passages, and up a spiral staircase to a crowded chamber about five stories up. It was lined with books and dolls.

  “I am not making much sense of this,” I said.

  “The king and his last mistress shared this suite, before she died,” Dubi explained. “It reflects their tastes.”

  “That mistress—would that be the nanny who took care of the princess?”

  “The same. The king and his daughter both adored her.”

  Albeit for different reasons, I thought. “She evidently liked dolls.”

  “So it was mooted. Actually the dolls were his, the books hers.”

  “He played with dolls?”

  “Not exactly. Royals tend to have magic. These are what you would call doovoo dolls.”

  “Voodoo,” I said.

  “Voodoo,” he agreed getting it right. “Every key person in the kingdom was represented here by his or her doll. When they did not properly honor the rules of the kingdom, he could make them uncomfortable. They soon fell in line.”

  “I can imagine,” I said. Voodoo dolls were said to transmit whatever they experienced to the people they emulated. Heat a doll’s feet, and the relevant person would find himself walking on coals, though none showed. There would be nothing he could directly do about it.

  I considered the dolls with new interest. Surely one was Lord Mephisto. Some were rather pretty females. “What of these?”

  “When the king got a hankering for the close company of a comely young lady, he would start removing her doll’s clothing and stroking its body. She would soon get the message, and report for bed duty.”

  “And if she was not inclined?”

  “She might be annoyed, but she would obey. The dolls can kill, if handled roughly enough. No woman was ever disinclined to the king’s face.”

  “But some might be angry enough to kill,” I said.

  “Unlikely. It was an honor to be favored by the king, so most were quite willing, and the others accepted it as the price of an excellent castle employment.”

  No real motive there, then. “Yet someone killed him.”

  “Yes. Here is the site.” He showed me out to a balcony. Here the chill wind swept smartly by, and the ground was far below. The wizard did not venture out onto the balcony, pointing instead. “He was out here when an arrow appeared, killing him instantly.”

  “But the ground is far away,” I protested. “How could an archer loose an arrow across the moat and to a target this high, to this effect?” Then I paused. “Could a Class A Warrior have done it?”

  “Yes, with difficulty. It would be a lucky shot, considering the ramparts and the wind, especially at night. But none would. All Warriors are totally loyal.”

  So they believed. “The arrow,” I said. “Naturally you examined it. Especially for some kind of magic assist.”

  “Naturally,” he agreed. “It was a standard issue type, effectively anonymous. There was undefined magic associated with it, perhaps to guide it, possibly to lend it extra power. Nothing I could identify with any certainty.”

  “Could the assassin have been closer?” I asked. “Riding a dragon or something?”

  Dubi choked. “Dragons are not steeds! They haul meat into the air only to carry it to their nests for more leisurely devouring. In any event, their flight is uneven. It would be extremely difficult to make an accurate shot.”

  True, Fiera’s thought came. I didn’t see her, but she was evidently close by. She picked up that thought. I am invisible. The archers defending the castle are nervous about flying dragons.

  So she stayed out of their sight. That made sense. “Then some other mechanism,” I said to Dubi. “A balloon, or magically floating platform.”

  “That might be,” he said thoughtfully. “In the confusion of the moment I did not think to search for any such artifact, and by the time things settled, it was too late.”

  “So it could have been a normal archer, supported by a rogue wizard,” I said.

  “It could have been,” he agreed. “Or a rogue noble with a bound wizard.”

  “Like Lord Mephisto.”

  “Like Lord Mephisto,” he echoed grimly.

  But I suspected it would not be as simple as that. The obvious suspect is not always the real culprit.

  “The princess,” I said, now that I had him alone. “Why did the king adopt her?”

  “I have pondered that myself,” he said. “I conjecture that he was becoming isolated, by the assassinations and his own choice, and wanted someone to sustain him in his old age, as a mistress would not.”

  “He wanted to be loved,” I said.

  “Yes. Not for his power, not to curry favor, but for himself. So he started with a child, a baby, and did everything for her. Also—” He faded out thoughtfully.

  “There was something about her,” I prompted.

  “There was indeed. She was a remarkably pretty baby, and grew into a beautiful woman, as you may have noticed.”

  “I noticed.”

  “But it was also the magic. The magic of royals tends to be personal, sometimes subtle. Her kiss—”

  “Even as a baby?”

  “Even as a baby, it was remarkably evocative. He saw her, picked her up, she kissed him, and he took her home and adopted her. That kiss established that there was royalty somewhere in her ancestry, making her legitimate.”

  I had an ugly thought, but it had to be explored. “So she seduced him, in her way, making him love her.”

  “Yes. She was always a remarkable comfort to the king.”

  “Could she have been planted?”

  Evidently the translation spell took that literally. “People do not grow like trees.”

  “I mean, could she have been placed in the king’s way by some other party, so that he would see her and be smitten by her, and thus that other person would have an unwitting agent close to the king? Perhaps to assume the throne?”

  He shook his head. “I do not like this thought at all. But it never occurred to me. This is perhaps one reason we need you: to think in ways we have not. Yet the princess is absolutely loyal. I can’t believe that she would ever betray the interests of the king, or the kingdom. She worshiped him, and reflected his interest in good governance. She is also a fine person in her own right.”

  I did not like this line of speculation either, and was glad to know the princess was as nice as she seemed. But I had a job to do. “She would not betray him consciously,” I said. “But if there were some avenue to her mind, planted, I mean set up in her infancy, that another person could use, he might cause her to think that his directives were her own thoughts. She could become the unconscious agent of a foreign power.”

  “This is sickening! But must be considered. Yet why try to assassinate her, if this were the case?”

  “To make it look as if she is another potential victim. So that no one would suspect her. Eliminate all the legitimate claimants to the throne, so that she alone remains, then use her to govern the kingdom as the regent of an unknown master.”

  He looked at me. “I hate this. The princess never kissed me, but I do love her. Such a thing would be an utter horror.”

  I knew how that was. “I don’t like the notion much either. But I have to consider it. It’s my job.”

  “It is a necessary job,” he said distastefully. “Like cleaning out the piss-pot.
What else do you require?”

  “Who took care of the princess when she was young? Before the nanny? There must have been a woman. She may know something.”

  “The Matron,” he agreed. “I shall summon her now.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “She surely has one, but it’s been lost in time. She is simply Matron.” He snapped his fingers, and a stout middle-aged woman appeared. “This is Roan, whom we fetched from Earthside. He is investigating the king’s demise. Cooperate.” Dubi departed.

  Matron oriented on me, her glower developing. She was evidently cooperating under duress. “We don’t like snoops here.”

  I fixed her with my gaze. “I am here to find out who assassinated the king, so that we can bring that person to justice. I have learned that he was slain by an arrow on the balcony. Do you know anything about that?”

  “Who did it? No. But I was the first to reach him. I was cleaning up here when I heard him groan and went to him. I was surprised, of course, as the king has a fear of heights. Almost never did he venture onto the balcony.”

  “Then why was he there at the time of his death?”

  “I suppose that is for you to find out, snoop. Anyway, it was only a minute or so, but already too late. He had been pierced through the heart. I summoned the guards immediately, but they found nothing. The assassin had gotten away.”

  “Naturally you saved his clothing, and the arrow.”

  “Naturally. I did not clean them, lest I obliterate some evidence of the source of the attack.”

  “That was wise. Did you see anything outside?”

  “It was dark.”

  Was that an evasion? “Was there anything? A light, an odor, a sound?”

  “Nothing. I have no idea where that arrow came from. It was as if it had been magicked out of thin air.”

  “That is possible,” I agreed. “That would eliminate the need for a bowman nearby.”

  “Are we done here?” she asked, plainly resenting my intrusion.

  “Not quite. You took care of the princess?”

  “Leave her out of this,” she snapped. “Her grief is bad enough without being stirred by outsiders.”

  “It is just barely possible that she is part of the plot against the king,” I said evenly.