Dragon Thief Box Set

Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

I lifted an eyebrow as suspicion arose within me. “Why me?”

“He specializes in magic teleportation. That is, the ability to travel,”

“using only magic, no feet involved,” I finished for him.

He nodded at me. “Yes. I’m surprised you know of that research. It’s a relatively new field.”

I snorted. “Not where I come from, but we don’t have magic to help us do it, just science.”

“They can be one and the same to those who know little of either,” he mused as he cast a curious look down at me. “But you say you have no magic where you come from?”

I shook my head. “Only the kind that has people hanging upside down in water tanks or making cars disappear.” There was a touch of confusion in those bright red eyes, so I shook my head. “It’s not real magic. Just some people pretending it is.”

“Then all the better my acquaintance should see you,” he told me as we came to an intersection.

The road continued on its merry way, though the graveyard fell away and was replaced by houses on either side. A new road led leftward, deep into the interiors of the hodgepodge of divergent dwellings.

I looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. “But why would he want to see me?”

“He’s been attempting to decipher some ancient tomes that may possibly indicate an ability to teleport between worlds.”

Some of the color drained from my face. “You mean I… I might have really fallen into some other world?”

“It’s possible, at least according to my friend.” A slight chuckle escaped him. “He is, however, rather eccentric, so I may be completely wrong about my guess.”

I hadn’t wanted to think about it, but what other possibility could there be? The portal, the odd and unfamiliar city landscapes and name, the wings on the back of the man who held my arm.

I was really glad for his holding my arm as my legs buckled a little.

“Easy there,” he whispered as he held me up. In one swift movement he slipped his arm out of mine and behind my back where he drew me against his side. “Whatever’s happened, it’s been tough on you. My friend’s home isn’t far.”

My guide turned me onto the new and winding road, and after only a short distance I noticed a change in the abodes. The small hovels gave way to larger and cleaner homes. They were downright stately with their covered porches and second floors. Some even had yards in the front, and the streets that crisscrossed the area were straight and well-kept. Not a speck of trash dared soil the elegant cobblestones over which many a four-horse carriage had driven.

A few of the stately abodes even had narrow alleys that divided the area into city blocks, albeit without any rhyme or reason when those alleys would pop up. Those back alleys hid little offshoots that ran into small courtyards, and tucked away in those spaces were the less than sightly fronts of small stables and the men who worked in them.

It was down one of these cloaked alleys that my guide led me. We reached about halfway down the hundred-yard road before he turned right onto one of the small offshoots. The opening to the courtyard was flanked by two tall stone pillars of flat rocks stuck together with expertly applied mortar. A tall barn-like stable covered the wall to our left and the backside of an L-shaped elegant house occupied the front and to our right.

The structure was of a hodgepodge of styles, from the simple cottage stone walls on the ground floor to the elegant wood-beamed Tudor on the second and third levels. Windows matched their respective fashions, with the ground floor being low and wide, and the upper floors being tall and paned. The presence of a covered walk with a high, sturdy gate on the left of the house stood out as an oddity from a more ancient fashion. A single light burned in a second-floor window, but otherwise all was dark and silent.

“Can you hold this?” he whispered to me as he held out the stick.

“I could use it,” I returned as I gladly took the broom and leaned a little bit of my weight against it.

The man reached into his vest and drew out a single small dagger. He stretched out his hand and nicked the blade against the stone column to our right. A handful of sparks flew out and died before they hit the ground. He tucked the weapon back into his belt and readjusted his arm around me.

“Now let’s see to your comfort,” he mused as he led me forward.

The rear door to the house opened and the soft light of a candelabra illuminated the well-lined face of an older gentleman. The glow made him appear to be a hundred, but he stepped back with the spry movement of someone less than half that age.

My guide stopped us near the threshold and grasped my elbows. His eyes smiled at me as he nodded at the home. “You’ll find good refuge here.”

Realization struck me, and I gripped the staff against my chest. “You’re not coming in, are you?”

He shook his head. “I’m afraid I’m rather too conspicuous to remain here, but don’t worry, I’ll see you later. It’s a promise.”

He stepped back and swept into a long, low bow. The next moment, he darted away and had soon disappeared around the corner onto the alleyway.

To say I felt adrift in a sea of apprehension would be an understatement. I was downright terrified as I turned my attention back to the rear door. The older gentleman hadn’t spoken a word, but his eyes lay on me. They looked kindly, or perhaps that was just my withered hope making me see things.

I gave him a sheepish smile and bowed my head to him. “H-hi. My name’s Millie, and he, um, the guy who was just here said I could stay…”

The older gentleman stretched out his arm that held the candelabra toward the interior of the home. I could just make out a long hallway that ran into the depths of the house and was swallowed by shadows. He slightly nodded in that direction.

The night was cold, and I was exhausted. A chill breeze made up my mind whether to run after the dark man or go into the house. I swallowed the lump in my throat and reluctantly slipped inside.

The older gentleman closed the door behind me and took the lead. His half dozen candles cast dancing soft shadows over the walls, but even in the weak light, I could make out some fancy molding and an elegant rug over the top of hardwood floors. The walls were covered in portraits and landscapes, and sometimes a combination of the two. Every now and again a niche revealed some regal bust or flowered vase. Judging by their ugliness they were no doubt worth a fortune.

We hadn’t reached the end of the hall when my silent guide stopped at a carved wooden door on our left. He opened it and led me inside where I found myself standing in a small but comfortable study. A fire crackled in the stone hearth and a large desk sat at an angle in the far-left corner. A few windows looked out on the side of the house, but the curtains were shut so tight I couldn’t catch a hint of a blade of grass.

The floor was covered in large rugs, but the walls were bare of any ornamentation. Two high-backed chairs sat before the warm fire, with a small table between them upon which sat a tray with a single glass and a tumbler beside that. A tall oil lamp sat on an end table beside the door and cast enough light to prevent me from tripping over the carpets.

The man slipped past me with the grace of a fox and grasped the doorknob. He caught my eye and nodded at the empty chairs before he shut the door behind him. It was an uncomfortable feeling hearing the soft click of the latch, though at least he didn’t lock it.

I clutched the broom against my chest and wandered over to the pair of chairs. The inviting warmth of the fire made me scoot between them to stand before the hearth. I leaned the broom against myself and stretched out my hands to warm them.

The broom slid down my left arm and I let out a little yelp. I did a juggle and a jig with the stick as it tried its best to slide into the flames. After a moment of tense dancing, I managed to grab it in both hands and press it against myself once again. A soft sigh escaped me.

And a soft chuckle escaped someone else.