A Fate of Dragons. Morgan Rice
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did you check the bottom of the pot?” Godfrey asked. “After you dumped it? Maybe it is still in the pot, at the bottom.”
Steffen shook his head.
“I checked the bottom,” he said. “I always do. There was nothing. Empty. Whatever it was, it was washed away. I saw it float away.”
“If it was metal, how did it float?” Gwen asked.
Steffen cleared his throat, then shrugged.
“The river is mysterious,” he answered. “Tides are strong.”
Gwen exchanged a skeptical look with Godfrey, and she could tell from his expression that he did not believe Steffen, either.
Gwen was growing increasingly impatient. Now, she was also baffled. Just moments before, Steffen was going to tell them everything, as he had promised. But it seemed as if he had suddenly changed his mind.
Gwen took a step closer to him and scowled, sensing that this man had something to hide. She put on her toughest face, and as she did, she felt the strength of her father pouring through her. She was determined to discover whatever it was he knew – especially if it would help her find her father’s killer.
“You are lying,” she said, her voice steely cold, the strength in it surprising even her. “Do you know what the punishment is for lying to a member of the royal family?”
Steffen wrung his hands and nearly bounced in place, glancing up at her for a moment, then quickly looking away.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry. Please, I have nothing more.”
“You asked us before if you would be spared from jail if you told us what you knew,” she said. “But you have told us nothing. Why would you ask that question if you had nothing to tell us?”
Steffen licked his lips, looking down at the floor.
“I… I…um,” he started and stopped. He cleared his throat. “I was worried…that I would get in trouble for not reporting that an object came down the chute. That is all. I am sorry. I do not know what it was. It’s gone.”
Gwen narrowed her eyes, staring at him, trying to get to the bottom of this strange character.
“What happened to your master, exactly?” she asked, not letting him off the hook. “We are told he went missing. And that you had something to do with it.”
Steffen shook his head again and again.
“He left,” Steffen answered. “That is all I know. I’m sorry. I know nothing that can help you.”
Suddenly there came a loud swooshing noise from across the room, and they all turned to see waste come flying down the chute, and land with a splat in the huge chamber pot. Steffen turned and ran across the room, hurrying over to the pot. He stood beside it, watching as it filled with waste from the upper chambers.
Gwen turned and looked at Godfrey, who stared back at her. He wore an equally baffled expression.
“Whatever he’s hiding,” she said, “he won’t give it up.”
“We could have him imprisoned,” Godfrey said. “That might get him to speak.”
Gwen shook her head.
“I don’t think so. Not with this one. He’s obviously extremely afraid. I think it has to do with his master. He’s clearly torn about something, and I don’t think it has to do with father’s death. I think he knows something that might help us – but I sense that cornering him will only make him shut down.”
“So what should we do?” Godfrey asked.
Gwen stood there, thinking. She remembered a friend of hers, when she was young, who had once been caught lying. She remembered her parents had pressured her every which way to tell the truth, but she would not. It was only weeks later, when everyone had finally left her alone, that she had stepped forward voluntarily and revealed everything. Gwen sensed the same energy coming off of Steffen, that backing him into a corner would make him shut down, that he needed space to come forward on his own.
“Let’s give him time,” she said. “Let’s search elsewhere. Let’s see what we can find out, and circle back to him when we have more. I think he’ll open up. He’s just not ready.”
Gwen turned and watched him, across the room, examining the waste as it filled the cauldron. She felt certain that he would lead them to her father’s murderer. She just did not know how. She wondered what secrets lurked in the depths of his mind.
He was a very strange character, Gwen thought. Very strange, indeed.
Chapter Four
Thor tried to breathe as he blinked back the water which covered his eyes, his nose, his mouth, pouring down all around him. After sliding across the boat, he had finally managed to grab hold of the wooden railing, and he clung to it for dear life as the relentless water worked away at his grip. Every muscle in his body was shaking, and he did not know how much longer he could hold on.
All around him his brothers did the same, clinging to dear life for whatever they could find as the water tried to drive them off the boat. Somehow, they held on.
The sound was deafening, and it was hard to see more than a few feet in front of him. Despite the summer day the rain was cold, and the water sent a chill through his body he could not shake. Kolk stood there, scowling, hands on his hips as if impervious to the rain wall, and barked out all around him.
“GET BACK TO YOUR SEATS!” he screamed. “ROW!”
Kolk himself took a seat and began rowing, and within moments the boys slipped and crawled across the deck, heading back for the benches. Thor’s heart pounded as he let go himself, and struggled to cross the deck. Krohn, inside his shirt, whined, as Thor slipped then fell, landing hard on the deck.
He crawled the rest of the way, and soon found himself back in his seat.
“TIE YOURSELVES IN!” Kolk screamed.
Thor looked down and saw the knotty ropes beneath his bench, and finally realized what they were for: he reached down and tied one around his wrist, chaining himself to the bench and the oar.
It worked. He stopped slipping. And soon, he was able to row.
All around him the boys resumed their rowing, Reece taking a seat in front of him, and Thor could feel the boat moving. Within minutes, the rain wall lightened up ahead.
As he rowed and rowed, his skin burning from this strange rain, every muscle in his body aching, finally the sound of the rain began to subside, and Thor began to feel less water pouring down on his head. In a few more moments, they entered a sunny sky.
Thor looked about, shocked: it was completely dry, bright. It was the strangest thing he had ever experienced: half the boat was under a dry, shining sun, while the other half was being poured on as they finished passing through the rain wall.
Finally, the entire boat was under a clear blue and yellow sky, the warm sun beating down on them. It was silent now, the rain wall disappearing fast, and all of his brothers-in-arms looked at each other, stunned. It was as if they had passed through a curtain, to another realm.
“YIELD!” yelled Kolk.
All around Thor boys dropped their oars with a collective groan, gasping, catching their breath. Thor did the same, feeling every muscle in his body trembling and grateful to have a break. He slumped over, gasped for air and tried to relax his aching muscles as their boat glided into these new waters.
Thor finally regained himself and stood and looked around. He looked down at the water, and saw that it had changed color: it was now a light, glowing red. They had entered a different sea.
“The Sea of Dragons,” Reece said, beside him, also looking down in wonder. “They say it runs red with the blood of its victims.”
Thor looked down at it. It bubbled in places, and in the distance, strange beasts surfaced from the water momentarily, then submerged. None lingered long enough for him to get a good look at them,