I called back to Foxglove. “Halt the guard. If I lift my hand, bring them at a gallop. If not, keep your distance.” She nodded, accepting the command but unhappy at not joining us, as both Riddle I urged our horses to a trot. Lant followed and I knew Perseverance would copy him. I wished they hadn’t. I kept my eyes on the rider. At first he showed no sign he was aware of us. The white fur coat convinced me that this was one of the Servants who had escaped the slaughter. As we got closer, he seemed to rouse himself out of a daze. He looked up at us, screamed, and kicked the brown horse he rode frantically, even as he tried to wheel it about. It turned to the rider’s command and broke into a trot, but we were already in motion and before the trot became a canter we were on either side of him. Riddle leaned forward and grabbed the reins, turning the horse sharply as the rider continued to scream and kick it. I knew that scream.

“Shine! Shine, stop! You’re safe! Shine, it’s me, Fitz—Badgerlock! And Riddle. We’re here to find you and take you home. You’re safe! Shine. Where’s Bee? Was she with you?”

The saddled white horse had jigged aside from us. It was evidently only following the brown because it had no idea what else to do. Riddle pulled his horse in, dismounted hastily, and approached Shine. She kicked at him, shrieked again, and then fell off her horse and into his arms. I dismounted, took her reins, and stood stupidly as he patted her back and told her she was all right, she was safe, she was safe now.

Her wailing slowly faded to deep sobs and then to breathless, shaking weeping. “Bee? Shine, where’s Bee? Shine, look at me. Do you know where Bee is?”

To Riddle’s gentle questions, she only shook her head wildly and sobbed louder. A terrible certainty was building in me. The white horse came closer. I ignored it until it stood near enough that with a calm step I could take the end of the dangling reins. Two horses. Two saddles. One rider. No Bee. The saddle on the brown horse was definitely Chalcedean-made. The one on the white horse was like nothing I’d ever seen before. High in the front and low in the back. It looked uncomfortable to me.

Bee, where are you? Did you ride on this horse?

“Tom Badgerlock.”

I turned in surprise. Her voice was thick from weeping. She’d pushed back her hood. Her hair was matted and hung in wads about her face. She’d lost weight, and the boniness of her face made her look more like Chade. Her lips were rough and her cheeks chapped red. She was still breathing hard but she had stepped clear of Riddle. The white fur coat she wore was enormous, hanging in folds around her. Her hands clutched her forearms and she hugged her body tight as if she might fall into pieces. She faced me and looked directly into my eyes. This was a different woman from the one who had demanded that all life must stop until we had purchased green stockings for her.

“Bee,” she said. “They took Bee.”

“I know,” I said. I tried to keep my voice calm and even. “They took you and they took Bee. But you’re safe now.” I drew a breath. “Bee. Do you know where Bee is now?”

“They took her,” she said again. “They took her into a stone with them.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Repercussions

The depredations of this dragon are just as damaging as if we were facing an invasion by a small army. The creature is “small,” I am told, by dragon standards, and yet her hunger seems insatiable. The shepherds dare not put their flocks out into the higher summer pastures, for even with men and dogs watching over them the dragon swoops in and takes what she pleases. As many cattle and sheep die in their headlong flights as by her claws. The best breeding stock of cattle and horses were, for a time, safe if kept within barns or stables, but even that is no longer the case. There have now been three reports of the dragon using claws and powerful sweeps of her tail to demolish buildings to get at the cattle inside.

Will homes and humans be next? The situation is intolerable. As king, you must offer us some kind of solution, whether a negotiation or a military response. There are rumors that Skill-coteries are able to communicate with dragons. Those of my shepherds and farmers who have been brave enough to stand and either offer this dragon selected stock or threaten her have been ignored. At the least, cannot you send a coterie here to attempt to reason with this creature?

—From the Duke of Farrow to King Dutiful

I stood as if turned to ice. I tried to make my mouth form words. “What do you mean?” I managed at last, but I knew what she meant. As impossible as it seemed, there was only one explanation.

“Like you did,” she said. “They went into a stone, like you did. And they took Bee with them.”