Chapter 21
Ms. Angela, her disheveled hair hastily repaired with paperclips—a true reconstruction would have to wait—was sitting at her desk, reviewing files with forced calm.
The timepiece on her blotter began to chime four o’clock.
The trolls should have been here by now, and they were late.
How dare they make her wait, when her business was the only thing keeping them from destitution?
She decided to meet them at her new gate, rather than here at her desk, so that they could see her face from a distance, and stew in her displeasure as they approached.
She was beginning to thrust her chair back, when the furniture suddenly began to tremble.
What now? She’d left Angelo, gibbering and submissive, to scour the records room at the office in Merchants Lane, despite the interference of that self-important subordinate of his, and she’d deflected the interlopers at her gate, and now…
what? She irritably snapped up the clattering inkpot that was teetering tremulously over the edge of the shaking desk.
Were those nincompoops in the mine blasting?
Slamming the inkpot down on the blotter, she remembered that no one would dare blast without her approval. She rose uncertainly to her feet.
Outside, Potts was picking the dirt from his fingernails with the tip of his crossbow when his ears popped from a pressure change. Instinctively, he cast his eyes skyward, and his mouth fell open.
It was not unusual at this time of year for a flock of birds to fill the sky, as the seasonally fickle varieties abandoned the last wisps of autumn to wend their way to warmer climes.
Potts would have given practically anything to be seeing birds just now.
Instead, a flock of dragons was descending upon him, beating iridescent wings in thunderous unison like a multicolored flotilla.
As they sculled across a roiling sea of clouds, the birds got out of the way.
“Gods almighty.” The man’s first inclination was simply to stare at the awesome sight, but when it became clear that the flock was losing altitude right over the property he’d just been hired to guard, he half-heartedly loosed the arrow in a warning shot across the lead beast’s bow.
“Don’t even bother, sonny!” yelled a voice as it went sailing overhead.
He caught sight of the speaker—the short, squat old woman with knitting needles in her hair who’d threatened him with duckie scissors just an hour ago, now offering a rude gesture from astride a large dragon as she soared easily over the gate.
He promptly dropped his crossbow and ran, screaming.
Katherine, with Tilly, eyes shut tight, clinging invisibly to her tweed skirt, directed her winged mount to the freight entrance and waved to her companions to follow.
Each of the eight other fliers came gliding over the property in turn to land heavily on the gravel.
August dove eagerly from the back of his much larger companion as soon as he touched down and trotted over, beating his tiny wings and wagging his tail in excitement.
“Katty, the trolls!” Mrs. Chrysler said after alighting to the ground and running over to her. “I saw them from the air. They’re on their way here.”
“Melinda!” Katherine spotted the rockist, who was cradling her new press to her chest with one hand as she clung to her mount with the other.
“Oh, I hate heights,” the young woman said, blinking her eyes open. “I didn’t realize we’d be flying here.” She looked around uncertainly. “Are you sure this is safe? You know what you’re doing?”
“Not exactly, if we’re honest,” said Mrs. Chrysler. “Never done it before. Bit of a last resort, really.” The rockist’s face fell even farther.
Katherine smiled weakly at Melinda, not terribly thrilled with Mrs. Chrysler’s newfound penchant for honesty. “You stay here and keep an eye out for trolls,” she said, then addressed the dragons at large as she dismounted. “All right, spread out, please. And let’s get this door open!”
Ember and Mr. Scruffles hopped down lightly from their carrier alongside their mistress and began shouting instructions themselves. You heard her, you lot! the black cat said.
Auggie, you follow me, dear, said Ember.
Regina, shatter that lock, if you’d be so kind! ordered Mr. Scruffles.
All right, Mouser? Ember called as Ruben’s dragon eased itself to the ground, pounding its wings fiercely to slow its approach.
“What a rush!” the old man shouted. He drew his cane from his lap and brandished it like a rapier before sliding, a trifle shakily, to the ground.
Blep! The old cat on his shoulders vomited down the back of his stained poncho.
Little flames danced beneath the paws of the excited dragons gathered on the gravel as the greasy air ignited around them.
One or two of the larger creatures spouted experimental conflagrations into the sky, accidentally singeing the unruly shrubbery.
Melinda Storage recoiled, still seated on her mount and holding her press protectively.
“None of that now, please,” said Katherine. “We’re here to liberate some senior citizens, not burn the place down.”
“Where’s Sister Agatha?” asked Mrs. Chrysler, grabbing Katherine’s arm. “Wasn’t she riding the peach one?”
Katherine frowned. The peach dragon was there, shaking its head and pawing the ground happily, but it bore no rider. She creakily leaned over, scanning through the legs of the dragons and puffs of flame, but could not find her in the melee. “You think we should wait for her?”
“No, she’ll catch up. Look—the door is open—quick, let’s go!”
“Let’s not frighten the old people, now, everyone!” Katherine said. “Anyone bigger than a cow—that’s you three—stay outside, please!”
Melinda nodded, holding her reins tightly, while two other dragons peeled away to round the front of the building.
“The rest of you, follow us!”
You heard her! Mr. Scruffles said. Let’s get going!
Stay back out of the way now, August, said the large purple dragon as she nudged him protectively to the back of the queue.
And with that, a stream of two small and six large dragons, some with tongues lolling from the unaccustomed exercise, trotted into the hallways of Eagle Heights Active Adult Living Community.
“This way, this way!” Ruben called from what quickly became the middle of the charge, as he stumped along eagerly, if not swiftly, with the help of his cane.
Several suspicious orderlies were already at the entrance to the common room when they arrived, and they dove for cover at the unexpected influx.
The moment the dragons streamed inside, Katherine could feel the atmosphere of the room begin to change.
Here and there, drowsy faces lifted or transformed slowly into wakeful smiles, and arms outstretched toward the beautiful, gentle creatures that began to disperse among the armchairs, tables, and daybeds, gently nuzzling the residents or allowing themselves to be petted as they coaxed them toward the walls and away from the room’s center.
The dragons left a wake of alertness behind them, but it quickly faded as soon as they were out of reach.
“There it is,” said Katherine, pointing at the chandelier at the peak of the vaulted ceiling. “Remember, touch a dragon if you start feeling drowsy.”
Mrs. Chrysler examined the ceiling. “Ah, that is a nasty piece of work, isn’t it, Katty?”
“And I thought it was pretty,” Ruben snorted.
He scanned searchingly around him and fidgeted a bit with his scarf, muttering, “To think this whole time it was magicking everyone not buried under a stack of blankets. Look—” He suddenly pointed to the far end of the room, where a knot of people yet unreached by the dragons dozed in a circle of armchairs, their chins on their chests.
“It’s my friends, Gary and Eleanor and Jim and the rest! They’re still out of it.”
“Not for long,” said Mrs. Chrysler. “Let’s get that thing down.”
“Heads up!” Katherine shouted. A pair of orderlies was suddenly bearing down on them, evidently recovered from their shock. Mrs. Chrysler drew her duckie scissors.
“Their coats and hats, Katty!” she said as the uniformed men lunged. “Get their coats and hats!” She jabbed at the closest man, who hopped back just out of arm’s reach.
At Katherine’s feet, Tilly hissed and bridled and shot into invisibility, placing herself where the second orderly would easily stumble over her.
Upon crashing to the ground, he began swearing and struggling to stand.
Ruben knocked the fallen man’s hat off with his cane, and Katherine pinned him down with an Elvish boot and stripped his heavy coat away, throwing it over her arm.
The orderly grumbled drowsily and stayed on the floor.
“What have you done to Frank?” said his partner, grabbing Ruben by the shoulders.
“Just wait until—aargh!” Mr. Scruffles hurled himself at Ruben and the orderly, disappearing from sight mid-leap.
The orderly’s jaw dropped, and he released Ruben immediately as the fierce animal reappeared on his head, clutching the hat.
“Aaarggh, get it off! Get it off!” The man tossed his hat away, with the eager black cat still clinging to it.
Oh, my love, are you all right? called Ember, finally catching up to them through the legs of the oblivious August, whose wagging tail was sending a deck of cards cascading from a small table.
Yes, yes. Mr. Scruffles shook his long fur. I did manage to bite his ear, he added proudly.
The orderly hefted his partner from the carpet, threw him over his shoulder, and staggered from the room, presumably searching for reinforcements.
“Well done, Katty,” said Mrs. Chrysler, suppressing a yawn. “But that bounder will be back with more help soon. Let’s put your plan into action.”
“I still think I could reach that chandelier myself,” said Ruben. “With my cane, if we stacked some tables.”