The messenger came at first light. The baron, it seemed, had spies and informants in the town and knew the second the party had arrived. It was gracious of him, Derrick had to concede, that he waited until they’d rested a bit before demanding their presence at his keep in the middle of the lake.

  Within an hour of the messenger’s arrival, Harlow had them up and breakfasted, and by the time the sun had pulled free of the trees, they were standing on the edge of the lake awaiting the ferry.

  “It’s cold,” grumbled Derrick. “He could’ve at least had the ferry waiting for us.”

  “The sun will warm us soon,” said Lenna. “And look, it’s going to be a beautiful morning.”

  She was right, annoyingly. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the breeze was slight enough that it didn’t carry a chill. The lake didn’t have a ripple on it.

  Derrick stepped out of the shadow of the trees and into a puddle of sunlight on the jetty. He let the warmth of it into his body.

  “See.”

  He smiled wanly. These four never let him be miserable.

  “There.” Harlow pointed out into the water. A single figure made its way towards them on a small raft. It held a long pole, which it used to punt the ferry along, and was still several minutes away from the shore.

  “Weren’t there any faster applicants for the job?” said Derrick.

  They waited while the ferry drew closer. An old man, beaming with the carefree smile of a person only interested in his own life, guided the high-sided vessel into the jetty and kicked open the ramp to allow them on.

  “You’re the ones the baron sent fer?” he asked.

  “Yes, we are they,” answered Harlow.

  “Very good. He waits for you in his keep… This business ‘as been driving him to near madness for weeks.”

  “What business? The townsfolk say there is no dragon,” said Harlow.

  “Well, they would say that. It’s… ah, not my place to explain; I’d only get it wrong. Best you hear it from the baron hisself. He won’t get the details wrong, and if he does, well, who’s going to punish him, eh?” He laughed to himself and waved them onto the boat. “C’mon, c’mon. The baron is a patient man but has his limits. Let us be away.”

  They embarked on the ferry, and the old man began punting his way back towards the island in the lake. The going was slow, and more than once Harlow offered to take over the pole, which was declined.

  By the time they reached the middle of the lake, the sun had broken free of the forest and was shining down with all its rays, forcing Derrick to throw back his hood.

  “Too hot now?” asked Lenna.

  He eyeballed her. “A little.”

  “It strikes me,” began Fandle. “That this is a poor way to get at the baron’s keep when there’s a dragon on the loose. We’re nice, easy targets here on the lake.”

  “The dragon won’t attack nobody, don’t fret,” said the old ferryman.

  “Don’t sound very dragon-like. From what I hear, they raze villages and towns to the ground.”

  “This one’s different. It… ah, it makes deals.”

  “Deals?” asked Harlow.

  The Ferryman nodded, “Yes. I don’t know the ins and outs of it, so I won’t say no more, but the baron is not very happy about it.”

  Harlow looked to Derrick. “Read anything about dragons making deals?”

  “No. As Fandle says, they usually come in, burn everything to the ground, and leave… with the gold if there is any.”

  “Hmmm,” said Harlow. He gazed out over the water.

  “We’ll be there presently. Then you can ask all the questions you have,” said the ferryman.

  The boat completed its journey in silence, each of the company lost in their own thoughts. It didn’t make a lot of sense; this was not how dragons behaved.

  The ferryman brought the boat to a stop at the jetty beneath the baron’s keep. A long, paved road led up a steep incline from the lake’s edge to a gatehouse complete with portcullis and guard. The red-brick construction loomed over the path. Its squat, round towers and high-spired roofs reminded Derrick of some of the portlier wizards back at Kheda.

  A curtain wall disappeared into the trees on either side of the gate. From the ferry, it hadn’t been clear there was a castle here at all; no evidence of one could be seen on the approach. Now that they were closer, the trees couldn’t hide it any longer. The curtain wall extended through the forest and probably encircled the whole interior of the island.

  No one stirred on the battlements. Wise, considering the aerial nature of a dragon. Anyone on guard up there would be picked off first.

  The guard at the gate waved them through to the bailey. A vast open space filled with a dozen ballistae in various stages of construction. A few were being hoisted onto the walls by rope and crane. If a dragon did attack here, they’d be filled with bolts the second they crested the wall. The town and the baron clearly had different views on dragons.

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  On the far side of the bailey, awaited the keep. Constructed of red-brick like the gatehouse and curtain wall, the keep rose high over the trees. A single thin, wispy tower, almost like a column of smoke, rose out of the canopy at the very top.

  “Magic,” whispered Derrick. “There’s no way a tower that skinny stays upright without magic.”

  “You’re right,” said Lenna, and Derrick cursed the elf’s superhuman hearing. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard him muttering to himself. “I wonder what purpose he has for a tower like that?”

  “Not important. All we’re here to do is get directions and instructions. Anything else is irrelevant,” said Harlow.

  “Yes, Dad,” said Derrick, and he flinched under Harlow’s glare. Grumpy again?

  The guard stationed at the main entrance stopped them with a raised hand and looked the party over. “You’re them that’s been sent by the Circle?” he asked.

  “We are they,” answered Harlow.

  “Good. My lordship has been growing ever fretful with each passing day. It will do his spirit good to know that professionals have arrived.”

  Professionals? Oh dear.

  “His lordship needn’t fret. We will see his task done,” said Harlow.

  The guard nodded and led the party through the vestibule to the keep’s great hall, where he stopped them at the threshold and turned to address someone they couldn’t see.

  “My lord, the, erm, the adventurers have arrived,” he said.

  “Then bring them in, Captain. Don’t waste time,” answered a frail voice.

  The captain saluted and gestured for the party to enter the room. Harlow led the way, his heavy plate boots thudding with each step on the dark wood floor. It was probably very expensive wood, an oak or rich mahogany from one of the islands in the west, but Leena would know more precisely. She was good at trees.

  The captain led them past a long table laden with food. Fruits, vegetables and meats from all corners of Feydern were on offer atop silver platters and plates. Derrick hadn’t seen such a spread since the graduation ceremony at the Circle.

  If the food on offer wasn’t enough of a display of wealth, then the tapestries hammered home the point. Huge floor to ceiling artworks depicted scenes of knights in glorious battle. What was glorious about it was lost on Derrick, but it wasn’t unusual to find such things in the homes of people who’d never held a sword, let alone been on a battlefield. If they had, there’d be a lot more brown in the weave.

  He scanned the artworks, and a common theme emerged.

  Dragons.

  A green dragon being slain in a forest, a blue dragon being beheaded on a mountain slope, a black dragon run through on desert sands…

  Beneath the largest tapestry, a scene depicting a knight clashing with a great red dragon in a cave, lay a broken sword on a black marble altar. The hilt was the same depicted in every one of the tapestries.

  A family heirloom? I wonder how it broke.

  At the far end of the great hall, upon a chair on a raised platform, sat the baron. A spindly old man with a long beard growing down to his wheezing chest. He turned in his seat as they approached, his sunken blue eyes tracking their passage from the door and up the rug towards him. He chewed on the air, ground his teeth in a manner that reminded Derrick of the mentally unstable, and scratched the skin over the top of his eye. When the silence following the last of Harlow’s footfalls was almost too much to bear, he stopped scratching and smiled.

  “You are the ones sent by the Circle, yes?” he asked.

  “Yes, my lord. We came as fast as we were able,” answered Harlow.

  “Good, good. I am Baron Higby Von Spright,” said Baron Higby. “You may continue to address me as My Lord.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “I sent for you to rid this barony of a terrible beast. Can you do it?”

  “I believe so,” said Harlow. “But…”

  “But?”

  “But the townsfolk say there is no dragon.”

  The baron sighed. “Yes. They conspire to keep the filthy lizard alive.”

  “Then what is the problem? Why are you so desperate to see the creature dead?” asked Lenna.

  The baron’s eyes narrowed. “The whys and whether-fors are not your concern. I am paying you to perform a task, and you will damn well do it.”

  “Apologies, my lord. She speaks out of turn.” Harlow cast a glare at Lenna. “We will of course carry out the task set for us.”

  “She does, and you will. But I shall humour your elven friend. I can’t have you hesitating at a pivotal moment now, can I?” He chuckled. “A few months ago, the villagers reported the arrival of the dragon in the silver mines north of the town.”

  “And you wish to have the mines operational again,” said Fandle.

  “Don’t interrupt! No, the mine was exhausted decades ago. It is of no value anymore.”

  “Then what’s the issue? The dragon isn’t harming anyone, the town is undamaged, and the mines are worthless. What trouble is there?” asked Lenna.

  “The dirty lizard has taken all the town’s gold.”

  “Not virgins?” said Fandle. “I was sure dragons took virgins.”

  “No, you’re thinking of hags,” said the captain. “They lure virgins into the woods and eat them.”

  “No, that’s children,” said Derrick.

  “Children don’t lure virgins into the woods,” said Mawlo.

  “No, the hags take – look, we’re getting off topic. The dragon stole the town’s gold, and you want it back.”

  “Finally, one of you shows they have a brain,” said Baron Higby.

  “Hold on, I’m lost,” said Fandle. “The dragon took the gold, but didn’t attack the town? How… why aren’t the townsfolk upset about it?”

  The baron sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. “It’s a crafty lizard. Craftier than any dragon I’ve heard of. It came to the shores of the lake one afternoon and spoke with the townsfolk. In exchange for protection, the dragon offered to safe keep their gold in its lair. They agreed and carted all their wealth to the mines so the dragon could sit on it.”

  “Willingly?” asked Fandle.

  “Yes, willingly. Now there isn’t a scrap of gold in the whole town.”

  “I still don’t see the problem,” said Lenna.

  “If there is no gold, I cannot collect taxes. Without taxes, I cannot pay the guard, the turnpikes, or the bailiff. Without taxes, I cannot fund repairs for the roads, the ferry or the town. The whole barony will fall to ruin without gold.”

  “Ah, now I see,” said Harlow.

  “About time. Now get up to those mines and deal with the creature before I lose what’s left of my patience.”

  “We will see it done, my lord,” said Harlow.

  “Then be about it. The sooner the lizard lies dead, the sooner I can return the gold to the town,” said Baron Higby. He waved them away, and the guard captain escorted them back out to the bailey.

  “My lordship is… feeling the strain. Queen Johannetta demands tithes, and without gold…”

  “We understand,” said Harlow.

  “The mine’s a little way north of town.” The captain pointed to the mountain slopes across the lake. “There’s a track, but it’s not been travelled in years. It’s likely in a terrible state.”

  “We’ll find the way. Thank you, Captain. We will see you when we get back,” said Harlow.

  “A word of caution, friends. We sent a detachment of men up to deal with the creature a few days ago… only one returned.”

  “How many is a detachment?” asked Derrick.

  “Twenty.”

  Mawlo and Fandle looked at one another. It was a look Derrick hadn’t seen on them before.

  Worry.

  “We’ll be fine. We’re trained for this,” said Harlow. “But thank you for the warning.”

  “You’re welcome,” said the captain. “And good luck. The sooner things get back to normal, the better.”