The Malicarn #2
Buck hit his head hard against the stone wall as he fell.
He remained conscious, but was disoriented enough that he was unable to stop the rider as he leapt over him, down the staircase, and out the front of the granary.
There was yelling, the sound of a struggle, and when Buck managed to stand back up he saw, out the window, the dragon rider disappearing into the wheat field.
2.
Even with the window closed, Hannah could hear the shouts from the street.
She flipped through a book of maps, slumped in a chair in the corner of the Privy Council chamber, ignoring Sanderson and Quentin’s bickering.
It was Sanderson who had closed the window, despite the warm spring day, tired of listening to the mob outside the castle gates.
“The key to mobs is to ignore them,” Sanderson told the queen. “They only grow stronger if you pay them any mind.”
Why was everyone telling her to ignore the people?
There had been angry beggars nearly every day since the dragon fell, the crowds slowly growing.
Instead of people forgetting about the dragon, rumors were spreading that war was imminent, or that the dragon heralded more crop failures, or that the queen was planning on murdering children to appease the dragon gods.
At first this was out of fear, but lately, Hannah suspected, it was more out of anger.
The spring rains had not come, and the heat was baking newly sown fields.
It would, in fact, not be a fruitful harvest, and children would die.
“We have to send a contingent to the armories in the lower valley,” Quentin shouted as Sanderson riffled through papers. “We cannot risk another—”
“No, no! We start moving knights and armed men through the valley and the people will take it for what it is: an occupation.”
These conversations, which had been happening with increasing frequency, took place with Hannah present but silent.
The silence was a mutual and unspoken agreement between the queen and her advisors after her attempt to sneak away.
Listening but saying nothing meant that Hannah was going to be obedient, that she wasn’t planning on doing anything rash.
Allowing her to listen meant that the advisors weren’t going to exclude her from any discussions or sensitive matters of the realm.
They would make the decisions, but Hannah would know what all of the decisions were.
For the time being, that seemed to placate everybody.
Someone knocked and the door opened. A page walked in. “That man is here. The old blacksmith.”
“Oh, now he decides to arrive?” asked Quentin. “Fine, fine. Bring him in.”
Hannah turned the page in her book, looking over a map of the Malicarn. There was very little detail, and the map faded off soon after crossing into the eastern frontier. The seas which surrounded the Malicarn on every other side did not indicate what lands might be beyond them.
A moment later a short man, older than Sanderson, entered the room. He was dressed casually, as if he had worked a forge that morning. He bowed to Sanderson at first, but then realized his error and turned to bow at Hannah.
“My queen.”
“Sit, please,” she said, putting away the book. The man remained standing. “These are my advisors, Sanderson and Quentin.”
“Ah, yes, we have met, when you visited the River Lands last spring. I was in the crowd when you addressed us in the square.”
“I don’t recall,” said Quentin. “Did Alfred send you? He is the reeve in those parts?”
“No, no. I come of my own accord. My name is Jasper, and I have an urgent matter.”
“We do not usually hear petitions in the Privy Council,” Quentin said. “Certainly not from men of your, um, station. Why did you not present this to your queen at the hall this morning with the other petitioners?”
“Well, to be frank, sir, I found myself delayed. The crowds outside the city have grown thick. People traveling from their farms, unable to feed their families. And the mobs outside the castle gate itself. It was quite difficult to find a way past them without suffering a blow. They are quite heated.”
The public petitions were being curtailed anyway. Hannah spoke to only half a dozen people a day or so now, usually men known to the court, nobles or others of high renown. The common folk were being kept outside, for her safety.
“Well, you’ve made it this far,” Sanderson said. “What is it that’s so important?”
“My queen,” Jasper said, turning toward Hannah, “it concerns the dragon.”
“Speak directly to us,” said Quentin. “Your queen will still hear you, but we’ll be the ones with the answers.”
“Uh, yes, of course. My lords—”
“We’re not lords.”
“My good sirs, then. Since the dragon’s appearance rumor and fear has swept through the realm.
Stories about goblins stealing children in the night, the dead walking, great beasts rising from the depths.
Nonsense, of course, most of it. But there is one rumor that I believe is true: that the man who rode the dragon to the Malicarn is alive.
He’s alive, and he is still in the realm. An omen of war, they say.”
“War?” Hannah asked. “Who ever said anything about a war?”
“Now, now, Your Majesty,” Sanderson said, “there’s no war.
Some people are worried about this dragon, that’s all.
Maybe anxious about the next harvest, but that’s still some months off.
Plenty of time for the rains to come. No, I think what Jasper means to say is, some people heard a rumor of war, but like all the other rumors there is nothing to it. Isn’t that right, sir?”
“No! That is not right! There are whisper networks all over the realm. An underground, if I may call it that. I mean no disrespect, Your Majesty, but it is the truth.”
“How do you know of this underground?” Quentin asked. “Are you a part of it?”
“Not so much, no. But I do know of it. All men do.”
“This is an outrage! How dare you threaten your queen!”
“I come not to threaten. I seek help. I talk to people from all places, and they are afraid. Afraid of outsiders coming into their homes, goblins stealing their farms—”
“Those are citizens of the Malicarn,” Hannah said. “I do not like this tone.”
“Residents of the Malicarn, perhaps,” Quentin interjected. “But not citizens. A goblin is not a man, and—”
“I do not wish to hear such vile slanders!” Hannah shouted.
She tried to sound firm. “I do not even like the term. The outsiders are people, not goblins. Call them what they are. Men. This is known throughout the realm, though many choose not to believe it.” Gregorian had been pretty firm with Hannah about this very point, and he rarely got animated, so she followed suit whenever the topic came up.
“My apologies,” Jasper said. “I am simply repeating what I hear. People do not always trust the Crown, because of, well, because—”
“Because I am a young cripple who looks like a goblin?”
“Not my words, Your Highness. Simply what I hear. Believe me when I tell you that there is a dragon rider out there, somewhere, and enemies of the Crown hold him captive. It is not just a rumor.”
“What good could it possibly do,” Quentin asked, “even if it were true? The dragon is dead, they can’t get much use out of a rider now.”
“My theory is they plan to parade him about and incite the mobs to revolt. Whatever it is, if you haven’t anticipated it, you can be sure that your wizard hasn’t anticipated it.”
“What the hell does Gregorian have to do with anything?” Quentin shouted.
“But it’s just a rumor,” Sanderson said. “You may have heard it from someone you trust, but you haven’t seen this rider yourself, have you?”
“No,” Jasper said. “But there are, uh—” He paused, looking at Queen Hannah. “There are lots of people upset with the way the Crown has been run. No offense to you, sirs.”
“People are always upset with the Crown,” said Quentin. “That’s why we have a Crown.”
“I’ve heard just about enough of this,” Sanderson said. “You’ve gotten dangerously close to treason. I should have you hanged. Leave us.”
Hannah watched Sanderson push the man back out of the room, and Jasper looked at her, pleading with her to interfere. But she said nothing and a moment later he was gone and the door was again shut.
“Should we take him seriously?” Hannah asked.
“No,” said Quentin. “This is all a waste of time. Better to forget it. No more commoners in the castle, that’s what I say. The sooner everyone forgets about this dragon the sooner these crowds will calm down and go home, and—” He looked out the window and let out a heavy sigh. “Now what is that?”
A building was on fire, just beyond the castle’s outer walls.
“Looks like the Inns of Court,” said Sanderson. “Do you think it was set intentionally?”
“I’d rather not find out. We better deploy the barracks. Stop this from becoming a riot, or at least more of a riot than it already is.”
Both men left, ending Hannah’s official business for the afternoon.
She reopened her book of maps, trying to remember what Gregorian had told her about the lands across the sea.
It was very vague, just that great nations lived there, and it was safer to ignore them than try to establish diplomatic relationships.
She should have pressed him on this. He knew more than he was letting on.