Free Mistress of Dragons by Margaret Weis Page A

angels save us,” exclaimed Ermintrude. “Are you one of those men who
fall apart at the sight of a woman’s tears?”
    Draconas’s
mouth twisted. “You have found me out, madame,” he said with a bow.
    “You
needn’t worry,” said Ermintrude, wiping her eyes. “I won’t cry anymore. It’s
just . . . you’re the first person who has ever claimed he could help and
sounded as if he truly meant it. But what was that you said about my husband
trusting you? Why wouldn’t he?”
    “My
methods are somewhat unorthodox—”
    “I
understand that they do not involve dancing naked in the moonlight,”
said Ermintrude, a hint of the dimple returning.
    “No,
madame,” said Draconas with a half-smile. The dimple was infectious. “They do
not.”
    “Ah,
too bad.” Ermintrude sighed. “I might have enjoyed that. He’s coming, Wilhelm,”
she called to the prince, who was shuffling this feet impatiently. “Please don’t
say anything to my son about what I told you, sir. We don’t want to worry him
or the other children.”
    Manners
required that Draconas kiss the queen’s hand, but she—in her distraction—did not
offer her hand to be kissed and he made no move to do so. Her tears were still
wet upon her fingers. Bowing, he took his leave of her, pleased with what he’d
found out.
    “This
is better than I had expected,” he remarked to himself. “A threat of war, all because
of a few burnt villages and some dead cows.”
    Going
off to wash his face and hands and satisfy the young prince’s curiosity with
some amazing lies about hunting dragons, he added inwardly, “Humans work so
hard to complicate their lives. It sounds as if this wretched king is every bit
as desperate as I hoped.”
     

5
    EDWARD
IV OF THE HOUSE OF RAMSGATE-UPON-THE-Aston was young to be king, only just
turned thirty. His father had died in his mid-fifties from drinking tainted
water while on a hunting expedition. Edward had almost gone with his father on
the trip, but had stayed home at the last moment when the young prince Wilhelm
had come down with a fever. Had Edward gone, he would have undoubtedly drunk
the same water and succumbed to the same illness, leaving his son, then five
years old, as king.
    Wilhelm
related the family history to Draconas as he washed his face and his hands in
the large bowl the servants brought to his bedchamber. Wilhelm rather prided
himself on having saved his father’s life.
    As
he washed and Wilhelm chattered, Draconas could hear other people, guests of
the king and queen, coming and going about the castle, which was crowded with
knights and their ladies, visiting nobility, entertainers and servants, and
hangers-on.
    The
knights were loud and boisterous. They had decided to make up for their
disappointment in regard to the dragon by organizing a grand boar hunt, which
was to take place on the morrow, and they were making ready. Their dogs trotted
at their heels, occasionally barking and snapping at each other, adding to the
commotion in the corridors. Wilhelm would have taken Draconas to the stables,
to show off his very own horse, but Gunderson tracked them down.
    “Master
Draconas,” said the old soldier, “His Majesty is at liberty to see you now.”
    “I’ll
see this remarkable horse another time,” Draconas promised.
    The
prince was disappointed at first, but then he thought how he could lord it over
his younger siblings by telling them how he had spent the afternoon with a real
dragon hunter, and he ran off in search of them.
    Gunderson
led the way to the family’s quarters. They passed through the main hall, now
filled with young men and their dogs and retainers, all discussing the upcoming
hunt. Conversation halted as they entered. They stared openly at the man
everyone in the castle now knew was a dragon hunter. Some of the looks were
curious, some intrigued, some openly hostile or suspicious. Draconas paid no
attention to any of them.
    Gunderson
preceded him up a spiral staircase cut