H - 108: I Can Wait (Patreon)

Kaln had not been so unprepared for anything since he’d been arrested on false charges by the Regency police. Even going nose-to-nose with Atraximos the Dread had had the benefit of a long lead-up and very specific instructions. But here he was, in a confrontation he’d never imagined, at every possible disadvantage, and with a pounding head and aching body from what was apparently the wrong way to teleport a person.

Still, he made do.

In a way, the misery of it all helped. His first instinct for such a confrontation would be to charm and cajole, but right at that moment he was being held upright mostly by sheer anger. Kaln straightened to his full height, raised his chin, and spoke with all the assertive poise three elder dragon wives had been able to bring out in him.

“Your Majesty, I presume. I believe it is customary in most cultures to offer one’s guest a seat, and some manner of refreshments? Or at the very least, the courtesy of an invitation.”

And though it was motivated by spite, he realized belatedly that this was exactly the right approach to take with the royal family of Boisverd. Given what they undoubtedly thought he was guilty of, trying to charm them would just make them angrier. His task now was to make it plain that he was not to be taken lightly.

Not an easy thing to achieve from inside a bottle.

“In fact,” Queen Henrietta von Holtzman replied, easily matching his poise and restrained outrage, “in most Vale cultures it is at least gauche to be seated in the presence of royalty. The rest you will simply have to forgive, master godling, as you are a prisoner, not a guest.”

Kaln thought about sitting down, but immediately suppressed the urge. There was a difference between insisting on his dignity and being a petulant little twerp. Only one would improve his odds of being taken seriously here.

“Your Majesty, I leave this in your hands,” said one of the other women present, the one who’d screwed the cap on Kaln’s bottle, whom he took for the Court Mage. She was a Valefolk of rather unremarkable appearance save for having hair the palest shade of blonde he’d ever seen—which was currently disheveled as if she’d just been sleeping on it, which one look at her deeply shadowed eyes and hollow cheeks indicated she had not.

The Queen turned her head toward the mage and inclined it in acknowledgment; the woman paused only to bow, then turned and stalked to the chamber’s only door in a clear hurry.

Kaln didn’t think it was too conceited to wonder what the Court Mage had to do that could be more important than this. Surely she wasn’t planning any further attack on Dragonvale. Whether or not these people were tangled up with the Entity, Kaln had to be what they wanted.

No, wait—Percy was still there. Did they think they could rescue her from the remaining dragons and the Phantom Legion? What else might they have put together to make that attempt? There was absolutely no telling what artifacts or lore the Entity might have been able to direct them to…

“Thank you, priestess,” said the Queen, turning to once again nod her head respectfully. “I will be sure to keep the Flock appraised of anything we learn.”

“I am, of course, willing to assist with the learning,” the much older woman replied in a careful tone.

“It is always a privilege for the Crown to have the opportunity to aid the Shepherd when she has need,” Henrietta replied with a calm that was much too calm to be believable. “Rest assured that we shall not neglect the fulfillment of this blessing. In the interim, I assure you we shall fully devote the Crown’s resources toward a satisfactory conclusion for all.”

Both women were silent for a moment, regarding each other with dangerously neutral expressions. It was Kaln who rescued them, having heard something relevant to his concerns in that speech otherwise full of nothing.

“Wait, this was your idea?” he demanded of the priestess. “Or…Anessima’s? What did I ever do to her?”

The priestess, a woman with a firmly upright spine and piercingly intelligent eyes despite her deeply-lined face and fully white hair, turned those eyes upon him for a moment.

“Each of us is, in some way, granted the opportunity to endure,” she said cryptically. Then with a bow to the Queen, she turned and strode toward the door after the now-departed Court Mage, but at a more sedate pace.

“I’ve sometimes thought I missed out, not being terribly religious,” Kaln commented. “It must be so handy, spouting barely-relevant proverbs whenever you don’t want to answer a question.”

“Nothing’s stopping you from doing that anyway,” commented the young man with them. Prince Franz, the brother Percy had often spoken of, looked to Kaln’s eyes to be approximately her age, which was possible, she having been adopted. A family resemblance to Henrietta was apparent in his face, though alone among the royals he had blond hair. Otherwise, none of them looked related to each other or to Percy.

Princess-Consort Etienne, for it had to be she, stood head and shoulders taller than her wife, with the posture and broad shoulders of a veteran soldier. To judge by the expression with which she was staring at Kaln, the Timeglass barrier between them was the only reason her strong hands weren’t currently around his neck.

“Franz,” Henrietta said quellingly before turning her attention back to Kaln. “Well then. Since we are all here, may we have the courtesy of your name, sir?”

“I don’t feel it’s excessively petty to point out that you haven’t given me even the courtesy of a bucket,” he replied, “but very well. I am Ar-Kaln Zelekhir, and I believe I know each of you by description. Percy talks about you a lot. It’s a shame we are not meeting under better circumstances.”

Henrietta’s face fell into even flatter lines, and Etienne actually bared teeth like an angry dog. Franz clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes.

“That,” the Queen said crisply, “is her Royal Highness Princess Perseverance to you, sir.”

Kaln considered his options for a moment, and decided that not only was it still not a good idea to try charming these people, but he really didn’t want to.

“I’m afraid that’s not up to you,” he said, folding his arms. “The lady in question has told me in no uncertain terms that she prefers to be called Percy. As she has been rather substantially inconvenienced by my household, I feel an obligation to grant her requests.”

Franz narrowed his eyes further, but the expression looked like sudden curiosity rather than anger. Neither of his mothers altered their stares an iota.

“What did you intend to gain by abducting my daughter?” Queen Henrietta demanded.

Kaln heaved a deep sigh. “I didn’t abduct her. The whole business was a great deal of trouble and little else. Not that it hasn’t been a pleasure, getting to know Percy, but…no, I might be the only person who needed this distraction even less than you. I’m afraid that was just Vanimax acting on his own.”

“Vanimax, the dragon?” Etienne burst out, taking an angry step toward him. “Why? What did he want? What did he do to her?”

“He did not harm her,” Kaln said hastily. “And I don’t think he had any real plans. It didn’t matter, anyway; the first thing we did was separate Percy from him, so he never had any opportunity to do anything. His mother very nearly killed him on the spot; I’ve never seen her so furious. I put a stop to that before she could, but only because we had a guest who’d just been through a terrifying experience, and the proximity of two brawling dragons is…less than calming. Especially if you’re not used to it.”

“No plans?” Henrietta demanded, letting open incredulity into her tone. “You dare suggest to me that a being as old and learned as an adult dragon would abduct a princess, in pursuit of no particular end?”

“Ah, well… Let me put it this way, your Majesty. You are the mother of a boy; you know what teenagers are like. They…act out.”

Franz raised his eyebrows and folded his arms.

“Neither my son nor daughter are prone to disruptive antics,” Henrietta stated warningly. “At least not deliberately, in Perseverance’s case.”

“Congratulations, then. I’m sure you are a worldly enough woman to appreciate how very fortunate you are in that regard.”

Her expression may have softened by the tiniest amount; at any rate, she deigned to give him a curt nod of acknowledgment.

Kaln shrugged again. “Dragons are physically mature at about a hundred years, but they spend that time doing little but hunting and studying under their mothers’ wings. They have very little, ah…life experience. In many respects, they are adolescents at that age. Vanimax had just lived through the demise of a father he despised and the sudden presence of a new authority figure in his life. He’s been…going through some things.”

The royal family of Boisverd stared at him in frank incredulity.

“Some boys paint dicks on walls, move haycarts onto roofs, or smash pottery,” Kaln said, spreading his hands. “A dragon in that phase of life…apparently abducts princesses. He did apologize to her, after a while. Not very well, but I believe he was sincere.”

“And yet,” Henrietta said icily, “you have not seen fit to return her.”

“That was the second thing we offered her,” Kaln said, “immediately after apologizing and assuring her that she would not be harmed. Percy requested political asylum.”

“She what?” Franz burst out. Henrietta gave him a quelling look, but Etienne only widened her eyes in an even more outraged expression.

“She stated,” Kaln explained, “that she believed she was a burden upon the state and an unintentional threat to your regime, and consequently feared for her life, and requested to stay with us for her own safety.”

“You fork-tongued, duplicitous little worm!” Princess Etinned roared, taking one long step toward Kaln’s bubble and raising one fist. In the face of such genuinely maternal rage he couldn’t help feeling a frisson of primal fear, but Kaln was both accustomed to the squabbling of dragons and separated from her by a wall of fortified Timeglass.

He folded his arms again and stared dispassionately.

“I see we have truly caught you ill-prepared,” Henrietta said icily, “if that was the best story you were able to concoct on the spur of the moment.”

“Our daughter knows she is loved here!” Etienne snarled.

“She does,” Kaln agreed. “She talks about all of you, often. I know she misses her family very much. All I know is what I have extrapolated from the bits and pieces she’s mentioned, but I thought from very early on that they paint a contradictory picture. Percy tells stories of a family that clearly cares about her very much, but also talks constantly about how she’s a drain on the royal family and causes nothing but trouble. I’ve been fairly certain for some time that she was misconstruing some parts of this, but it’s not as if I knew enough about the situation to argue with her. Nor do I want to argue with her. Things inevitably become more comfortable with familiarity, but I can’t exactly forget that she lives with us because a member of my family kidnapped her for, in essence, no reason. I feel kind of obligated not to push at her.”

“You are not improving your situation by impugning my daughter’s intelligence,” Henrietta stated. “Perseverance definitely knows better than to think her absence benefits either this family or the state, much less that we would harm her. Try again.”

“Does she, though?” Franz asked suddenly.

“Franz,” his mother warned, giving him a maternal look.

The prince was frowning now, though. “I mean…does she? Yes, getting rid of Percy wouldn’t gain us anything, and in fact has cost us politically on several fronts. I know that, Mother. Does Percy know that? I mean, has anyone ever explained that to her? In those exact terms? You know how literal she can be.”

For the first time, their unified front of simmering fury was cracked, the initial glimmers of uncertainty showing on all three royals’ faces.

“Or,” Franz continued more slowly when no one answered him, “was Percy’s last involvement with politics her formal recusal from royal duties, followed by years of Mother’s lectures about how royalty must sacrifice for the good of the nation, and people shooing her away whenever she asked about policy?”

And now that front was truly broken. Kaln watched in silence for a span of seconds at the royal family’s expressions evolved through dawning realization, and then into mounting horror, before one at a time their poise reasserted itself.

Henrietta was the first to get her formal mask back into place. “Your contention, then, is that you are keeping my daughter as…a guest, rather than a hostage, purely out of compassion?”

“Well it’s not exactly a hostel I’m running here,” Kaln said, permitting himself some outward exasperation. “I wouldn’t say compassion so much as…duty. Vanimax did carry her off, and I can only imagine how terrifying that must have been. All of us are of the opinion we owe it to her. But yes, that is why Percy is still in Dragonvale. It’s been made clear to her that we will immediately bring her back to Boisverd if she wishes—or take her anywhere else she might want to go. For the time being, she has preferred to remain with us.”

“And you are sufficiently equipped to comfortably house a princess?” Henrietta demanded.

Kaln winced. “That…took a bit of doing. I’m afraid her first few days may not have been all that comfortable. I really can’t emphasize enough how Dragonvale was not initially set up to be hospitable to mortals, but I worked on it as fast as I could. She has a clean and comfortable space now with ample considerations for her privacy, and we’ve managed to assemble everything else she felt was necessary for her comfort. And we have a proper cook now! I very much fear that aside from the bit where she was carried off by a dragon, the worst part of Percy’s experience was the first week when she had to eat my cooking. Once all that was arranged, she seems content.”

“How is she?” Franz asked. “I mean…is she okay?” Both his mothers glanced at him, but this time without intent to quiet him, instead immediately switching their focus back to Kaln to hear his response.

For his part, Kaln had by now allowed the overt anger to leak from his own demeanor. He still didn’t try to put on the charm, as he was still pretty sure that would just piss them off, but now let what he judged an appropriate gentleness enter his delivery.

“At this point, I believe Percy is thriving. As I said, it took some time. She went through a big change, the place took some work to get comfortable for a human, and as I can personally attest, learning to live with dragons takes getting used to. But lately, she’s seemed happy and engaged. She has been studying statecraft with Izayaroa, who believes she has an untapped talent for it.”

All three of them jerked back in surprise at that—barely perceptibly, but considering they were Valefolk and royals besides, Kaln took that as the equivalent of falling over in shock from anyone else. He politely kept going without acknowledging their lapse.

“There is a substantial library at the lair and Percy enjoys reading; she’s also up half the night stargazing most evenings with the telescopes I bought her. She says the mountains are much better for that purpose than the city.”

“You bought her telescopes?” Etienne demanded.

Kaln shrugged. “She requested them. As I believe I’ve said, I feel kind of obligated to give her whatever she wants. Percy spends a lot of time with Pheneraxa, and I think that friendship has been good for them both. She very understandably doesn’t care for Vanimax, but he’s tried to keep out of her way, and I’m afraid that’s the best that can be expected of that relationship for now. The other dragons she hasn’t developed much of a relationship with, but everyone tries to be considerate of her. I think the worst part of Percy’s days recently is that our chef has insisted on teaching both her and myself how to cook. Neither of us have much aptitude or interest, but…well, it’s best not to argue with the person who prepares your meals. And I think she at least finds satisfaction in learning a new skill. Or maybe I’m just projecting; I certainly find satisfaction in it. Percy…can be hard to read. But she smiles a lot more recently than she did at first.”

He stopped talking, and waited. The royals were silent for the moment, processing. They were now clearly doing their best to remain poised and give nothing away; only Henrietta fully managed it, but even Franz and Etienne’s consternation was just barely perceptible. Kaln left them to think.

He didn’t exactly have anything better to do.

“That is quite an account,” the Queen said at last. “If it is true, I owe you both thanks and an apology, sir…Zelekhir, wasn’t it? But that has most certainly not yet been determined.”

“That’s impressive,” Kaln said mildly. “A lot of Valefolk have trouble remembering the whole thing, after hearing it once.”

“It is a crucial skill in the realm of diplomacy,” Henrietta replied with the thinnest and smallest of smiles. “What matters most right now is the return of my daughter.”

“Sure,” he said lightly, “that’s been settled from the beginning. Percy is not a prisoner; I will have her brought back here immediately the moment she asks for it. In fact, I’ll be glad to carry a message to her for you. Something tells me she will want to come home, once she has some…misconceptions cleared up.”

It was odd, the small pang he felt at that idea. As brief a time as it had been…well, come to think of it, Percy hadn’t been in Dragonvale much more briefly than himself. She was part of…the community, if not the family. But it was most important that she be happy, and Kaln was not about to keep her from her family, not if their issues could be resolved.

“That is a gracious sentiment,” Henrietta said coolly, “but you are not trusted, sir, and this is not a negotiation. My daughter will be returned, with or without your consent.”

“I cannot advise you strongly enough not to try it without,” Kaln replied. “Anyone you send to Dragonvale to try to enter my home uninvited will meet exactly the fate you and generations of your ancestors have feared. And then matters between us will be even more…fraught. There’s a far more amicable solution right in front of us, you see?”

“And all I have to do is take you at your word,” she replied wryly.

“I did kill Atraximos,” Kaln said, permitting himself a grin. “Doesn’t that count for anything?”

“So you say,” the Queen mused. “But you also replaced him, and I cannot help thinking the Evervales entire are better off without you or any of your…putative ilk. What can you offer that is better than the absence of a dragon overlord?”

“A dragon overlord who likes you,” Kaln said evenly. “You will find that very good deal indeed, your Majesty. I am even willing to overlook this…misunderstanding. It’s not as if I can’t see your very reasonable concerns. The sooner you extricate me from this charming little jug, the less badly it will go for all of us.”

“Permit me to disabuse you of the notion that you have anything with which to threaten me, sir,” she said tightly. “I know not whether you have observed it yet, but that jug is impervious to both divinity and magic, with its cap screwed tight. Your dragons cannot find you no matter what craft they employ, and you will find yourself quite unable to control them. Unless I choose to extricate you from there, nothing you—”

She broke off with a disapproving clench of her lips when he burst out laughing; her wife and son both glared at him in affront.

“Is that what you think is happening?” Kaln asked merrily. “Oh, dear, I see the problem. I’m sorry to tell you, your Majesty, but I am not controlling those dragons by force. That’s my family you’re talking about. I assure you, they like me very much, and are going to be as alarmed by my sudden abduction as you were by Percy’s. Which is fair enough! But the difference is, they can and will come get me.”

“As I just explained,” she replied evenly, “they cannot find you.”

“I think that ploy of yours was entirely contingent upon them not bothering to try,” Kaln replied, and leaned one arm against the Timeglass in front of himself, smiling down at her. “So magic doesn’t work through this thing? Nifty. So all Emeralaphine has to do is scry for places big enough to contain a human that her magic can’t penetrate. I’m sure there are bound to be quite a few of those in the Evervales! Hopefully she checks this one fairly early on; the longer it takes to find me, the more unhappy she’s going to be. I maintain that she is not an unkind person, in her way, but she is…rather impatient.”

“He’s bluffing,” Franz said. He said it with confidence, but it was obviously projected confidence—obviously enough that even Kaln could tell.

“Of course,” Kaln added, “that’s assuming none of the dragons already happen to know this thing is here. I can’t help noticing that the door is not big enough for it to fit through. It’s been here longer than the…”

He paused, looking around the bare stone chamber.

“You wouldn’t take the entire royal family somewhere else,” he mused aloud. “That would create political waves and draw attention straight to your destination. No, this is in Boisverd—in the city proper. Are we actually in the palace itself? That would be a logical location.”

None of them answered, simply watching him with closed expressions and calculating eyes.

“They’ll find me,” Kaln said after a pause, smiling with absolutely unfeigned confidence. “When they do, you want me to be obviously free and happy and in a position to talk them down. There are already angry dragons in the process of zeroing in on you, and I am your only chance of averting the disaster your entire lineage feared most. It would be an ironic legacy if you brought that down on yourself after the death of Atraximos.”

“You do not…persuade, master Zelekhir,” Henrietta said. “But you have succeeded in introducing nuance which I must consider before I act. That, I will give you. It seems I shall indeed need to consider and gather information as quickly as possible. But until this due diligence has been done… Obviously it would be suicidally foolish to relinquish the only leverage I have on you.”

“You’d better pray I am telling the truth,” Kaln said quietly. “As it stands, in the reality I have described to you, Percy is among friends who will continue to provide for and protect her. If I were lying, you’d have just put her in unimaginable peril.”

“I have accounted for more than you know,” the Queen answered coldly, “and taken steps you do not imagine. I shall indeed pray for an amicable resolution, sir. That does not mean I shall recklessly gamble the fate of my realm upon the mere hope of one.”

Kaln heaved a sigh. “Well, fair enough, I suppose. Is it too much to ask for…a chair? Some water, ideally a few books?”

To his surprise, Henrietta dipped her head with an openly apologetic expression, which her son mimicked. Etienne just stood there looking skeptical and angry.

“I very much regret that I am not able to offer you even the hospitality most prisoners in my custody receive,” said the queen. “This is an unprecedented situation, master Zelekhir. I regret your discomfort. If the gods smile, I shall soon have reason and means to make it up to you.”

“Well, I suppose that’s a kind sentiment, at least,” he said lightly. “Feel like progress from where this discussion started.”

Henrietta smiled thinly. “I gather you are new to politics, sir. One should always treat others with courtesy—and that diminished standard only when kindness is impossible. Today, right now, I have you at my mercy and there appears to be nothing you can do about it. The world is vast and complex, and none of us can say what the next day will bring—or even the next hour. Courtesy is how we prevent these…regrettable necessities from becoming vendettas.”

“Sage advice,” Kaln said. “I guess that’ll do in lieu of some reading material, for now.”

“If you have spoken the truth,” said the Queen, “you shall be owed several great debts by my household. If you have lied, then a vendetta is exactly what there shall be between us, and those dragons will not get here soon enough to save you.”

They stared at one another in silence. Franz still looked troubled, but Etienne’s cold expression more than supported her wife’s.

“Is there nothing you wish to add to your case, then?” Henrietta asked.

Kaln shrugged. “You’re the one who rolled these dice, your Majesty. I already know how they’ll fall. I can wait.”

Slowly, she inclined her head to him once. “Then so you shall, for the time being. I hope we shall speak again soon.”

“Well, you’re the only one who can do more about it than hope,” he said.

“Is he one of those people who just always has to have the last word?” Franz muttered.

“I live in a jar,” Kaln said lightly. “You can afford to grant me that one little indulgence.”

“Then so I shall,” said Queen Henrietta. “Until then, Ar-Kaln Zelekhir.”

She turned and glided toward the door, her family falling into step behind her after giving him final, lingering stares.

“Drop by anytime, my door’s always open!” Kaln said, waving. “Figuratively, of course.”

The door thunking shut behind the royal family was an especially pointed rebuttal to that, but it was too late to come up with a better parting show now. With a sigh, Kaln turned in a slow circle, examining his prison.

Square walls of rough-cut stone, cleanly lit by Timeglass. Curved, impermeable, transparent prison threaded through with traceries of Timesteel. What was the use of that, exactly? Timeglass was already indestructible, it didn’t need reinforcement. Was something about this arrangement what made it invisible to both magic and divinity? If, for that matter, the Queen had told him the truth about that.

He didn’t even have room to properly pace—these confines were smaller than his cell in actual prison had been. Not to mention that the entirely curved surface around him wasn’t great for…anything, really. Kaln’s entire inventory of options seemed to be finding the least uncomfortable position at the very bottom of the jar and waiting.

Well, he could try some of those meditative exercises Emeralaphine had taught him, at least.

A soft grinding sound echoed through the Timesteel mesh filtering off the mouth of his bottle.

Kaln’s eyes darted about, looking for the source of the incongruous noise—for anything disturbing the conformity of the prison. He was slow to locate it, because it was directly under him.

The Timekeeper bottle was positioned in the center of the room, upon short legs of common stone bracing it in position. Below that was a round iron grate forming a drain.

This had just been pushed aside, and there was now a face peering up at him. A pretty face, if currently smudged from crawling through the drains. A smudged, pretty face surmounted by a cutely twitching pair of triangular ears.

Kaln flattened himself as much as he could against one side of the bottle, blinking down at her.

The Nhiyah grinned. “Hewwo!”

“Hewwo,” he replied politely. “Welcome to my humble abode. I’d offer you a chair and a snack, but it seems the management forgot to leave me any.”

“You’we siwwy,” she said, grinning even more broadly. “So whatcha in fow, handsome?”

“Kidnapping the Princess and plotting to overthrow the kingdom. I think. At least originally. Now, probably also for sassing the Queen.”

“Ooh, spicy! And didja actuawwy do aww that?”

“Just the last one. Though to be fair, I can’t blame her for suspecting me of the rest. Unfortunately it’s kinda hard to plead my case.”

“Because you wive in a bottwe?”

“Because I live in a bottle,” he confirmed gravely.

She reached up to lightly rap on the base of the bottle with her knuckles, producing only a dull tap. Despite the resonant shape of the structure, it didn’t ring or echo in the slightest. Timekeeper materials did not vibrate.

“Is this Timegwass?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“And…how’d you get in thewe? It wooks wike that thingy on the end comes off, but it’s still not big enough to get you thwough.”

Kaln grimaced, instinctually rolling his still-sore shoulders. “They used magic. Um…conjuration, I think? It hurt a lot. I gathered from the ensuing conversation that you’re not supposed to use that on people, and now I can personally attest why.”

The Nhiyah girl winced. “Ooh, yikes. So you’ww need a pwopew powtaw mage to get you out. Safewy, at weast.”

“I…I…think so?” Kaln said hesitantly. “I am…about eighty percent sure I understood what you just said.”

“Then you’we doing bettew than most,” she said, winking. “Aww wight, wemme see what I can do about that! I dunno beans about magic, so I’ww have to caww in some favows.”

“Um…far be it from me to look a gift cat in the mouth, but…” Kaln spread his arms helplessly. “Why? Who are you? How’d you get in here? Why would you want to help me out?”

“Good questions, aww,” she said solemnly. “Maybe if you’we a good boy, you’ww get the answews when aww this is ovew. Fow now, sit tight. I’ww send pwopew hewp as soon as I can.”

“I guess you know where I’ll be,” he said.

She grinned, winked, and squirmed backward into the drain, pulling the iron grate back into place. Once it had clicked into its stone housing, there was again silence; either the Nhiyah was utterly soundless as she wound her way through the drainage system, or those sounds just weren’t loud enough to make it all the way through the mesh cap of his prison.

Kaln looked down at the drain, over at the closed door, then for good measure, up at the ceiling. None of them held any answers for him.

“Well…this sure is a day I’m having.”