Sable's Arc

Chapter 6 of 18

Sable reached the crossroads before the hunter finished coiling his new rope. He crouched by his pack, testing knots, a man built for climbing. She planted herself in his path. "You won't find gold up there," she said. He did not look up. "Everyone says gold. A dragon that never spends a coin, sitting on a pile." His hands kept working the rope. "You're the girl who tamed it. That's worth talking to." "There's no hoard," Sable said. "I've been in the cave. It's bare rock." He smiled without warmth. "A guard would say that." He slung the rope over his shoulder and started walking toward the north face. Sable's stone won't stop a man who wants to live rich. She saw it plainly. Words about a baby would only make the climb worth more to him. He'd take a live hatchling to sell. A voice cut across the road. "You're wasting your rope." A silver fox woman stood by the well, her dress crusted with gems that caught the light. She turned each stone as she spoke, as if reading them. This was Gemma Silvestre, a collector who could name the place every gem came from. She had come to Birchrot chasing a rumor, and rumors traveled together. The hunter stopped. "And who are you?" "Someone who knows gold," Gemma said. "There's none in that cliff. If there were, it'd have a shine to it, and this valley has none." She stepped closer. "But there's a hatchling. Worth ten hoards to the right buyer. The girl's guarding a live one." Sable's stomach dropped. Gemma had said the thing Sable feared most, out loud, to the one man who must never hear it. The hunter's eyes lit. "A live dragon." He turned back to the cliff, faster now. Sable grabbed Gemma's arm. "Why?" Gemma pulled free. "Watch." The hunter took three steps and stopped. From the cliff above came a sound, low and rolling, the great dragon waking. Its head rose over the roost. It had heard its child's name carried up on the wind. It did not roar. It simply looked down at the man with the rope, and the look was enough. The hunter's face went white. "A hoard sleeps," Gemma said quietly. "A mother doesn't." The hunter dropped his rope in the dust. He backed away, then turned and walked fast down the road, not once looking behind him. Sable stared at Gemma. "You told him to make him run." Gemma shrugged, already turning her gems again. "He needed to see what he'd climb into." Sable let out a breath. The hunter was gone. But the secret was out now, spoken at a crossroads where every traveler passed. Gemma looked at her sideways. "I didn't come for the dragon," she said. "I came for a stone called the Mirrorstone. You've buried one under a tree up there. I'll want to see it."