As spring turned into summer, there was no reason to hope, but Root and Tangnost maintained their vigil beside Quenelda’s bed. One morning Root lay sleeping on a pallet as Tangnost sat watchfully by the fire, smoking his pipe, when a guard knocked on the door, interrupting his bleak thoughts.
‘The Queen’s Apothecary,’ he announced, with hope in his voice. Perhaps this one might succeed where all others had failed. He fervently hoped so.
An elderly man shuffled in, leaning heavily on his Arch Mage’s staff, back bowed with age, the triple-tasselled hood of the Artful Apothocaries Association leaving his face in shadow. Behind him, three apprentices carried the tools of his trade: a small portable cauldron, brass scales, weights and measures, a pestle and mortar, pouches and jars of ground herbs and leaves and crystals, unguents and pastes. The old man fussed about his apprentices’ preparations for a minute or two before turning towards Tangnost. He suddenly straightened and threw back his hood. Keen grey eyes flashed.
‘My Lord Constable!’ Tangnost made to bow.
‘Nay, man, no ceremony here,’ Sir Gharad urged him. ‘How is the child?’ A bony hand was laid against Quenelda’s pale cheek.
Tangnost shook his head sorrowfully. ‘No change, my lord.’
‘We feared it was so.’ The old man bit his lip. ‘I come bearing urgent news. It is no longer safe for the Earl’s daughter to remain here. With his armies successful in the north, the ‘Lord Protector’ has returned.’ His smile was ironic. ‘You may have heard the celebrations?’
Tangnost nodded grimly. Eager for victory, the city had gone wild; bonfires and fireworks had cracked and blazed till dawn.
‘A triumphal parade is being organized by the Guild, but our Lord Protector is already turning his attention to other matters. Since he heard the tales that Quenelda ‘died’ with her dragon, the Lord Protector has become most concerned for the child’s health. Already he has expressed his wish to care for her. He is to formally seek guardianship from the Queen’s Council in three days’ time. He claims the Earl wished it. Given their lifelong friendship, it seems a natural enough request. Because the young Earl Darcy supports him, the Council are bound to agree.’
‘You can’t let that happen!’ Root leaped forward to stand in front of Quenelda as if she were about to be dragged away.
‘Hush, lad,’ Tangnost admonished.
‘But the Queen! She—’
‘The Queen is powerless.’ The Constable balled his fist in frustration. ‘She rules in name only. The Council gives Hugo whatever he asks; they are utterly under his spell and cannot see their own danger. Who knows – they may even defy her wishes … We cannot take that risk. Many of her servants have been quietly replaced – few can be trusted any more; and the palace is guarded by the Lord Hugo’s troops.’
Root was on the verge of tears. ‘You can’t let him have her – he’s a warlock! If he finds out she truly is a Dragon Whisperer …!’
‘Do not fear, lad,’ Sir Gharad said, laying a reassuring hand on the boy’s shoulder. ‘We are not entirely helpless. The SDS may be diminished, but Dragon Isle still wields great power at the heart of the kingdom, and she will be safer there. Commander DeBessert attends the Queen at this very moment, and stays for the evening banquet in honour of the Lord Protector. While the Lord Hugo is being feted, we make our move. Two cloaked Imperials from the Commander’s escort will put down at the Hour of the Howling Wolf. The Queen will say that SDS battle apothecaries wish to see if they can cure the Earl’s daughter, and even the Lord Hugo and her Council will be unable to find fault with that. To protest would be to raise suspicion, and anyway, our Lord Protector is a busy man these days, and caring for a child should be the least of his concerns. You must prepare to leave at a moment’s notice, perhaps for ever.’ He glanced at Tangnost, who nodded grimly in understanding.
‘For ever?’ Root paused. He shook his head in confusion. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘I fear the Lord Protector will not forgive those who defy him. He cannot touch the SDS, nor are they answerable to any save the Queen. But you – you may never be able to return: your life may be forfeit.’
Suddenly the Queen’s Constable looked like nothing more than a very old man; a man who had lost his king, and now his protégé, a man he had loved like a son – the Earl Rufus. Unless they acted soon, Quenelda too would be gone. In spite of his fear, Root’s heart went out to him.
Sir Gharad felt a small hand take his, and looked down to find dark compassionate eyes that also had known the pain of loss. He blinked back tears. You found friendship in the most unexpected of places. He squeezed Root’s fingers gratefully.
‘Best get ready, lad,’ he said, voice cracking hoarsely. ‘And be careful; let none know our plans. All our lives would be in danger were we caught.’
Shocked to the core, Root nodded wordlessly.