Loom hated the sea.
She hated the way it smelled, the way her hair clumped and tangled after saltwater dried in it, the way it tossed around boats of all sizes so that she could never truly get her footing on a vessel. She hated that she could barely go ankle-deep into the shoals without feeling like she needed to vomit.
And yet, at that moment, as she sat on the ledge of an arched stone window in Hraven’s Keep, watching the waves crash upon the craggy shoreline hundreds of feet below, she wished more than anything to be sailing away. Jutting out from the sheer cliffside below was a small dock filled with rowboats. She would have happily danced a jig on one of those boats rather than return to the High Council’s chambers and stand guard for another five hours while they listened to public grievances.
“Why do they even have these meetings?” she asked, turning to Danbury, her counterpart in mischief and no-goodery.
"Huh?" The gentle shek, shek, shek of the lean man to her side dragging his daggers across a whetstone abruptly stopped.
“I asked why they even bother with these audiences. It’s not like they ever actually open up their purse strings.”
“It’s all a sham. They have to make it look good, or else it’s pitchforks and torches up and down.” He lifted a dagger and eyed the blade’s edge, then ran it along the whetstone once more. “The pay’s not bad, though.”
“Assuming they don’t stiff us at the end of our contract, that is.”
“That’s why I’ve been gathering a little insurance during our stay,” he said, dropping his voice low. He jangled a small satchel hanging at his side. “You know we pass the Treasury every time we head to our quarters, right?”
Loom pressed her lips into a thin line. She hadn’t noticed, in fact. She’d been too preoccupied with the incessant sloshing of the waves outside her window each night to think about anything but abyssal depths and ravenous sea-creatures.
“Guess not,” he said when she didn’t reply. “More mead for me.”
"Can you do me a favor, Danbury?" Loom asked evenly. "Next time you consider getting us a gig playing soldier for a bunch of musty magistrates, stick one of those in your belly instead and save me the trouble.”
Her counterpart scoffed. "Let's not pretend this is the first distasteful thing we've done in the pursuit of coin.”
Loom frowned. He had a point. Guarding scum from their constituents was about the least scandalous thing they’d done in their illustrious career, but it still made her feel icky.
She wondered if Danbury was downplaying how much the gig bothered him. He seemed to be, given that he’d been nicking coins from the Treasury whenever the opportunity presented itself. He’d always been the fire of their duo, though, and with good reason: he was angrier.
They’d both come up in the same orphanage, but whereas Loom had been a lifer at the facility, Danbury had come in at the tender age of nine - old enough to understand what he’d lost, even if it hadn’t been much to begin with. His parents had been habitual debtors, and when they’d finally pushed things too far, they got cut off - literally.
So it came as no surprise to Loom that he was also a bit of a pinchpenny. Not that she ever complained - his thriftiness had often been the difference between going to sleep starving or merely hungry plenty of times.
“Hey! You lot!” A guard’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Break’s over. Everybody back to work!”
“Here we go,” muttered Loom, gently duffing the back of Danbury’s head on her way to the High Chamber’s entrance.
As she slipped through the oaken doors leading into the chamber, she could see the fun was already underway. On the far side of the room, seated around a table on a dais, several elderly men remained locked in heated debate, their voices carrying up into the arched stone ceiling. Besides the assorted guards, they were the only people in the cavernous space, which seemed almost comically oversized, to say nothing of its opulence. Silk tapestries illustrating Pelegatha’s history hung from every wall, and marble columns (aesthetic, not structural, according to Danbury) seemed to disappear into the ceiling.
The other night, during dinner, Loom had ventured that a full-size dragon could fit in the space, an assertion to which Danbury vehemently objected. They’d gone back and forth about it for hours, until the kitchen staff finally shooed them out of the great hall.
Checking that her rapier was at the ready, Loom took her position near the table and tuned in to the conversation.
"What if we redecorated the ballrooms?" squeaked Finance Minister Griede. "My granddaughter -- "
"Is a twice-baked fool!” blustered Chief Councilor Brambuck, his jowls quivering. "No one gives a fig what she thinks about the ballrooms. No, we should use the coin to expand the kitchens."
"Again?" drawled Markos, Captain of the Watch and youngest of the group. He was also Brambuck’s nephew, but he’d inherited no sense of decorum from his abscess of an uncle, and sat with one leg draped over his chair’s gold-plated armrest. "No. We need the coin to hire more men.”
Brambuck turned his gelatinous face toward Markos. “What about the taxes we levied against the commoners?”
“That’s enough to pay for filler like this.” Markos gestured lazily at Loom. She tightened her grip on the rapier and clenched her jaw, but otherwise remained stoic.
“I thought you conscripted some of the commoners?”
“It’s still not the same as a regular army. You can at least expect punctuality from soldiers. Speaking of which,” Markos added, his gaze meeting Loom’s, “where is your assistant?”
Loom’s anger fizzled instantly, annihilated by a fit of laughter that had only just begun to subside when Danbury entered the chamber.
"What's so funny?" he asked.
"They -- " Loom snorted. "They think you're my assistant."
Danbury scowled, eliciting fresh howls from Loom.
“Distasteful!” whined Griede.
"Unprofessional," lazed Markos.
"Regrettable," rumbled Brambuck. "Still, these scoundrels were the best we could find. It's not like we had applicants clamoring for this contract. Nobody wants to work anymore!”
“I have an idea on how we could hire better quality mercenaries and improve our standing army,” squeaked Griede. Markos and Brambuck leaned forward in their oversize wingback chairs.
“Do tell, friend,” said Brambuck gravely.
“We could levy a tax on the nobility.”
A palpable silence filled the chamber. Then all three men burst into laughter at once.
“Oh! Oh, Griede, you slay me,” chortled Brambuck. “All right, all right, let’s get to business. Bring in the petitioners!” He circled a hand dramatically overhead, and the guards hurried to bring in the first petitioner.
Loom watched as a steady parade of ordinary folk shuffled in, gawking openly at the admittedly extraordinary chamber. Most petitioners spent no more than thirty seconds in front of the Council before receiving a curt “no” and being shown to the door. One particularly ornery man managed to eat up five whole minutes before Brambuck, looking like he wanted to retch after being so close to the common rabble for too long, simply had him thrown from the chamber.
And so the hours dragged on until, finally, Griede announced their last petitioner.
“A farmer named Rendeck from Glavestown wishes to discuss the matter of, uh …” he trailed off. “This can’t be right.”
“What can’t be right, man?” thundered Brambuck. “Get on with it!”
“It says he wants to speak to the council about a dragon that’s threatening the region.”
“Oh, Powers sustain us,” moaned Markos.
“How can they sustain us when they curse us with this nonsense, nephew?” He gestured to the guard. “Bring him in.”
A few moments later, the guards escorted in an elderly farmer holding a wide-brimmed straw hat which he turned endlessly over and over in his hands.
“Th-thank you for seeing me, sirs,” he began. “M-my name is Latthias Rendeck and —”
“Out with it!” bellowed Brambuck.
“Yes, what do you want?” whined Griede.
“Yes, sir, sorry, sir! There’s … well, there’s a dragon! A great, big, emerald one with an enormous horn on its snout. It’s attacking our village, swallowin’ me sheep whole, and —”
“Why are you wasting our time?” Brambuck cut in. “Everyone knows we chased the dragons to the ends of the earth long ago.”
“But - but sir, if I may, I saw — ”
“Enough! Save it for the gin cart and your bumpkin friends,” Brambuck said, readying his customary flourish.
“Wait!” Griede held up a quivering finger. The other was scanning through his ledger. “Ah! Just as I thought.”
Rendeck wrung his hat in his hands. “Yes, sir?”
“You had a good year last year, didn’t you?”
“Why, yes, Master Griede, we certainly did, dragon notwithstandin’. The crops was —”
“I’m not interested in your plants or your fairy tales,” Griede mewled. “Since you’ve done so well for yourself, I propose an additional five percent tax levy against the Rendeck farm. All in favor?”
“Aye,” said Brambuck and Markos without hesitation. At the same time, Brambuck gave a flourish of his hand, and the soldiers started toward Rendeck, who was still stammering a response.
“But, Master Griede, sir, the dragon burned — hey!” He struggled futilely against the Pelegathan guards as they dragged him toward the edge of the chamber and threw him into the hall.
With the day’s petitioners done, Loom and Danbury started for the doors themselves, but stopped short as the guards swung the massive oak slabs shut with an ominous boom.
“Very funny,” said Danbury, turning toward the dais. “What, you want to renegotiate our contract?”
“My men in the Treasury reported a thief sneaking in and stealing coin on a nightly basis,” Brambuck said. “Know anything about that, scalawag?”
Loom’s heart sank. She sent a sour look toward Danbury, hoping he’d scrounge up a convincing lie for once.
Her counterpart smiled. “Sure don’t.”
Loom stifled a groan as Brambuck frowned.
“My men told me you admitted as much in the hallway not five hours ago!”
“Councilor Brambuck, I’m shocked a man of your intelligence would take such hearsay seriously.”
“Enough,” yawned Markos. “Kill them.”
The guards around the room's perimeter immediately drew their swords and began to close in. Loom unsheathed her rapier, backing up until she bumped into Danbury, who'd already drawn his twin daggers.
“Can you believe these bastards made us work a whole day before arresting us?” he whispered.
Loom found herself torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to brain Danbury with her rapier’s pommel for accepting the gig in the first place.
Then one of the guards lunged clumsily at her, and instinct took over. Channeling her frustrations with Danbury toward the nameless oaf who’d swung at her, she knocked his blade aside and socked him in the face, eliciting a satisfying crunch from his nose. As he staggered back, two others came forward. She ducked under a sluggish swing, then swept her foot across the floor, knocking one assailant onto his back. Before Loom could stand, the other guard brought his blade down. She caught it with her rapier, trying to redirect its force, but the tip of the sword still slashed her arm.
Loom cried out, rolling backwards and away from her opponent, then readied her rapier once more.
“If we get out of here alive, I’m going to kill you!” she shouted at Danbury, who was deflecting blows from two guards simultaneously. Up on the dais, Griede and Brambuck were on their feet, watching anxiously, and even Markos showed a glimmer of interest.
Then Loom noticed the thick beads of sweat rolling down Brambuck's swollen neck. It was the last straw on a heap of disgust that had been building for days. Suddenly, all Loom could think of was how satisfying it would be to slice his miserable throat open. Casting her usual restraint aside, she was about to lunge forward when an unearthly roar rattled the chamber.
The melee came to an abrupt halt as everyone looked toward the arched window at the back of the room. Loom could hear terrified screams echoing up from the streets below, along with city guards shouting orders. She glanced at Danbury as the heavy thudding of ballista fire from the ramparts reached their ears.
He looked more terrified than she had ever seen him. It was hilarious.
At least until a moment later, when an enormous, emerald-green dragon crashed through the chamber wall. It looked exactly like the one Rendeck had described, except for the ballista bolts - each as long as Loom was tall - protruding from its flank. There were also several fresh-looking holes in its wings. But if it was troubled by its wounds, the dragon didn't show it: there was only rage in its eyes.
As large as the creature was, it still only took up a fraction of the room. It dropped to all fours, letting out a roar that rattled Loom’s teeth.
To their credit, two of the guards were the first to react, screaming a war cry and rushing the dragon. It howled back at them, swinging its enormous claws and sending them both flying into a nearby wall with a grisly thud. As their limp forms crumpled to the floor, the other guards rushed forward. Markos drew his own sword and leapt over the table to join them.
“Idiot,” muttered Danbury.
The dragon spun to face them, its tail destroying one of the marble columns in the process. Before Markos and his men could attack, the dragon stepped forward, splattering Griede beneath its enormous foot, and blew a jet of flame at the men. Once the flames cleared, only their smouldering skeletons remained.
A sweating, trembling Brambuck stood alone on the dais. He looked from the dragon to Loom and Danbury.
"Save me!" he cried. "I'll double your contr--YAGGH!"
The dragon lunged forward, snatching up the Chief Councilor in its mighty jaws. Rows of powerful, pointy teeth instantly punctured the flailing man's balloon-like body in a dozen places. Still, Loom admired how he continued to pound meekly on the dragon's nose, sputtering some nonsense about how undignified and unfair it all was. In response, the dragon shook him like a dog that’s caught a squirrel, then tossed what remained of his screaming form up into the air. Brambuck nearly reached the top of the chamber before dropping straight into the dragon's maw. It swallowed most of him in a single gulp, though a few chunks of the soon-to-be late Councilor spattered onto the ground near Loom’s boots.
Silence filled the chamber. Loom met her counterpart’s gaze and they bolted simultaneously for the door, skidding back into the antechamber just as the dragon exploded through the wall with a roar that made Loom's hair stand on end.
"The stairs!" she cried. The thundering footsteps behind them had already stopped, replaced with a howling rush of air as the dragon sucked in a breath. She reached the staircase, but took the corner too fast and slipped, sending herself tumbling down the stone steps. No sooner had she crashed into the room below than Danbury leapt over her.
The stairwell suddenly glowed a bright orange. Loom’s eyes widened, and she rolled aside just as a gout of flame erupted into the room.
A moment later, she could see a panting Danbury backed up against the other side of the scorched doorway, his form distorted by the shimmering heat waves left by the fireball.
“The docks, then?” he said. “Dragons won’t fly over open water if they can help it, and certainly not for two morsels like us when they’ve got an entire city to flatten.”
Loom fought back a gag as the sulfurous scent of brimstone filled her nose.
“What are you, some kind of dragon expert?”
Danbury sniffed. “I’m a brute, not an illiterate.”
“Maybe not, but you still need to work on your sums,” Loom said, gesturing to a quivering figure beneath a long table nearby. It was Rendeck, clutching his wide-brimmed hat to his chest. “I count three morsels.”
“Oh, fine,” Danbury said, massaging his temples with his thumb and middle finger. “Come on, plowman.”
The farmer crawled out from under the table and made his way over with shaky steps.
“Thankee kindly for bringin’ me along,” he said, bowing slightly. “Do — do y’think I still have to pay them taxes?”
Danbury groaned and started toward the far side of the room, where another stone stairway curved down and out of sight. Loom and Rendeck followed, and before long, the group found themselves on the docks at the backside of the castle.
The slips were all empty now, the boats likely taken by other survivors. Only a small dinghy remained at the very end of the structure. An enchanted torchlight affixed to its prow gave off a soft lavender glow - small comfort for the dark journey ahead.
Loom sighed and started down the gangway alongside Danbury. Rolling waves lapped against the dock's thick pylons as they made their way to the vessel. Further out, the water was all white-capped chop.
She glanced over her shoulder to make sure the farmer was still with them, and saw him staring up at the burning city.
“Come along, Rendeck,” she called. “Unless you’d have a lady on the oars.”
Danbury snorted, but Loom’s words seem to snap Rendeck out of some sort of trance. He turned and hustled to catch up. Danbury settled himself on a thin plank of wood near the stern that served as a seat, grunting as Rendeck scooted in next to him.
Loom gripped the edges of the small boat as she sat in the front. Now that she was fully facing the city, she could see why the farmer had been staring. The dragon’s shadow towered over the doomed capital, superimposed on the rising smoke by the very flames it’d breathed into existence. The creature roared once more, and goosebumps raced up her arm. As she tried to rub them away, she caught a glimpse of the little window where she’d been looking over the sea no more than an hour ago and frowned.
“I suppose I need to be more careful what I wish for,” she muttered.
“Eh?” Danbury raised his voice over the crashing waves.
“Nothing. Let’s get moving.”
“Aye.” Danbury was struggling with the oars, which were awkwardly stowed under the seat. “Hey - did you manage to steal anything on the way out?"
“You were with me step-for-step! Did you see me steal anything?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t.”
“At least you made off with some.”
“Watch your melon,” Danbury said absently. Loom ducked as he freed the oars and swung one over her head. “Who says I’m sharing any of my treasure with you?”
“Har, har.” A thought occurred to Loom. “Maybe you ought to give some to Rendeck here.”
Danbury glanced over at the farmer, who wore a hopeful smile.
“Fat chance, plowman,” he said, shoving the other oar into Rendeck’s arms. The farmer’s smile faltered.
“Danbury!”
“What? I’m not a charity!” He pulled the mooring rope off the pylon, placed his boot against the wood, and shoved the boat into the sea. Loom stared daggers at him the entire time.
“Oh, have it your way,” he grumbled. “If we make port by sunup, I’ll give it some thought.”
Rendeck sat up a little straighter on his seat and began to row. “You got yourself a deal, mister!”
“Lucky me.” Danbury looked back at Loom and smiled. “Remember what we used to say in the old days?”
Loom nodded. “‘Experience is its own reward.’” The phrase was pat, but it’d helped them through some of their leanest times, when they’d come home empty-handed more often than not.
“Yep.” Danbury joined the farmer in rowing. “So, did you learn anything new?”
“Not a damned thing.”
The dragon roared again, swooping low over the cliffs above. A moment later, another explosion sent fresh showers of rock and masonry splashing into the sea around them.
"You know what? I take that back. I actually did learn something."
Danbury appeared nonplussed. “You did?”
“Yes. I learned that the High Chamber was, indeed, big enough to fit a full-grown dragon.”
“Oh, go soak your head.”
Loom’s cackle gave way to a groan as her roiling stomach threatened to empty itself all over Rendeck and Danbury.
She hated the sea.
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