And who are you?” asked the King. After days of being marched westward, Gleve
stood, filthy and sore, at the foot of the throne in the King’s reception room, his head
bowed even before the officer guiding him pushed it roughly downward. For days he had
been looking at the ground because they had his hands tied so tightly behind his back it
forced him into the bent posture of an old man.
“Speak up,” the officer prodded him. His name was Pitley. He had been in charge of
the band of soldiers on the bridge. Just before coming into the room, he had instructed
Gleve to address the King as “your Highness” every time he spoke, if he was required to
speak.
“My name is Gleve, your Highness. I am a Healer.” Hopefully the provisions of the
treaty protecting the Healers would save him from torture, or at least make it a bit lighter.
“Look at me,” said the King. Gleve tried, but his bent back would not allow it.
“Untie him,” said the King.
Pitley made a point of cutting Gleve’s wrist lightly as he slashed away the ropes
binding him, not deeply though. Probably blood on the expensive carpets would get him
in trouble, Gleve thought. His spine and neck objected sharply, but Gleve forced himself
to straighten, his shoulders also complaining as his hands dropped to his sides for the first
time in many days. He looked at the King, saw a careworn and aging face, still handsome
and imperious, framed with neatly trimmed grey hair and beard. “So what to you know
about this incident on the Deep River bridge?”
“Very little, your Highness. I was traveling with a companion, hurrying to make it
over the bridge before daylight, when he was snatched by a Dragon.” Gleve’s throat
tightened. He fought to speak as if nothing important had happened. “The events that
followed were as surprising to me as they were to your soldiers.”
“And what were those events, as you saw them.”
“A large man came onto the bridge from the far side, waving his arms and shouting,
and then a… miniature Dragon appeared and flew in circles around the Great Dragon’s
head. It dropped my friend and came after us—me and your soldiers--and I saw no more,
Healer an abbreviated version of the story she had told Nell, Tess and Sarah. She tried to
read the old woman’s eyes, hoping to find regret there but seeing only impatience. “So,
you’re to be the second Dragon Priestess,” Peg said.
“Aren’t you glad?” Maida asked.
Reluctantly, Peg turned back to face her. “Of course,” she said. “How soon are you
due?”
“Four months, I figure.”
“I guess you’ll have Tess or old Sarah for your midwife.”
Ah, so that’s what was bothering the old woman. “I don’t think they’re experienced
enough,” Maida said.
Peg pinned her wth those black, raisin eyes in the old way. “What are you talking
about? They are the most experienced midwives alive.”
“They’ve never delivered a Little Dragon, have they?” Maida smiled.
Peg looked surprised for a moment, then, at least for someone who knew her as well
as Maida did, a little satisfaction crept over her wrinkled face. “Well,” she said. “Well
then.”
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