Book 7, Chapter Eleven – Eggsposed

Pandy’s first instinct was to panic. Her second instinct was also to panic, but the fact that Professor Beeswick only looked amused prevented her from bunny-hopping out of there.

“Where are they?” Augustus asked, inspiring a snorting little giggle from behind the Dragon as Thaniel popped his head out.

“I’m right here!” the boy said, and at the same time, an angry shout came from the front of the library. Augustus and Pandy exchanged glances even as Captain Reedsley began herding the children and his wife away from the sound. Obviously, everyone was in on this except Pandy and Augustus… and Healer Sinnett, who looked even more baffled than Pandy felt.

They had gradually migrated to the back part of the library, where the ‘boring’ non-fiction books for older students were kept, so it took a moment of weaving through shelves in order to reach the front. There, Pandy saw High Priest Hobart, standing with his hands raised to ward off the Skyrils who were diving at him while emitting screeches that sounded eerily like laughter. They only plucked at his clothes, making him wriggle and writhe as he tried to hold down his robe. This was mildly humorous, at least until Pandy caught sight of what looked like Thaniel’s crumpled body at his feet.

She started to run forward, frantically wondering how many Minor Heals she could cast with however much Mana she’d regenerated, and also how Thaniel had gotten here when he was definitely behind her just a second ago. Then one of the small, limp hands reached out and caught Hobart’s ankle, and the clearly-not-Thaniel stood with a fluid and Extremely Unsettling motion, pulling the priest’s feet out from under him.

Professor Beeswick stepped forward, and as he passed her, Pandy thought she’d never seen him look so serious. The Skyrils had appeared to be playing with the priest, but there was no humor on Beeswick’s face as he stalked toward the old man. As he did, something fell away from him like the shed skin of a snake – did Dragons shed their skins? – and Hobart stopped screeching things like ‘How dare you!’ and switched to a high-pitched scream.

By the time the Dragon librarian reached High Priest Hobart, his wings were raised and tense behind him, his taloned hands were curled, and far too many of his Very Sharp Teeth were exposed. “How dare you,” he snarled, with a hissing kind of rasp Pandy had never heard come from his throat before, “come into my Domain and threaten one of my charges? Why should I not simply rip off your head and send it to your compatriots?”

Reaching down to the cowering priest, Elarion’s talons tore through the fabric of the elaborate white robe the man wore. He grabbed enough of it to lift Hobart into the air, which probably should have been funny, because both of them were about the same height, except that Hobart weighed at least two Beeswicks, and Pandy was fairly certain that physics didn’t approve of things like that. Professor Beeswick obviously didn’t care about the opinions of Physics, because he shook the priest like a bull mastiff with a rat.

Hobart’s screams choked off, and he fell still, clutching at the Dragon’s scaled wrists as his toes dangled limply above the floor. The simulacrum of Thaniel – at least Pandy hoped that was what it was – moved, throwing open the door of the library to reveal a person wearing a black skinsuit and holding a piece of thick white material.

The person immediately lunged forward, slapping the material onto the simulacrum. The simulacrum, in turn, slowly collapsed into a puddle of vaguely Thaniel-colored goo and a Falconet school uniform. It was… disconcerting, to say the least.

Before the simulacrum even finished dissolving, Augustus was there, grabbing the black-clad man’s hand and twisting in a way that made Pandy flinch. The man ended up facedown on the floor, with Augustus’s knee in the middle of his back and his arm twisted further than was good for it. Pandy just stood there, feeling useless, until Professor Beeswick tilted his head toward the still-open door and she edged around the small group in order to close it.

As soon as it clicked shut, Augustus and Professor Beeswick exchanged tight, satisfied smiles. Augustus began patting down his prisoner, pulling weapons from extremely unlikely places and tossing them to the side. Meanwhile, High Priest Hobart had gathered himself enough to start gurgling out words while pulling at Professor Beeswick’s wrist.

The Dragon didn’t even seem to notice, watching Augustus until the Shadow was hog-tied and gagged before finally lowering Hobart back to the ground. His silver-blue eyes were cold as he spoke in a conversational tone. “Did you really think you could use the same trick twice? I told everyone – everyone – that I would not allow it, and here you are.”

He nudged the puddle of goo with his foot, using one toe-claw to turn over the fabric strip. Pandy could recognize Aetherbane fabric by now, and usually the symbols woven into it were so subtle as to be unnoticeable. This piece had soaked up a good bit of colored goo, however, and the symbols stood out, slightly lighter and shiny against the more matte background material.

Hobart had been rubbing his neck, and when he spoke, his deep, resonant voice cracked slightly. It really wasn’t fair that someone with a voice like that had turned out to be one of the bad guys. In Pandy’s old world, he’d be making millions doing voiceovers for movie trailers. Well, maybe not millions, because she didn’t actually think voice actors were paid that well. Maybe the really famous or recognizable ones, but-

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Dragon,” the High Priest all but spat the word. “I was simply going to take the boy to the temple so we could examine him more thoroughly. We have no way of knowing what kind of aftereffects such trauma might cause, and now look.” He waved at the goo, and somewhat to his credit, he did actually sound a bit horrified.

“Oh, I’m all right,” Thaniel said, poking his head out from behind a bookshelf about fifteen feet away. In spite of grasping hands, he stepped out into the open, holding up a familiar little poppet. “Professor Beeswick gave this to me after B- Lady Eurydice got kidnapped. He said I should use it if anybody tried to take me away again, and I didn’t really wanna go to the temple, so-”

He lifted it, examining the small doll with an expression of bemusement. “I didn’t know it could walk around, or maybe I woulda saved it and used it to go to class when I wanted to sleep in.”

Beeswick snorted, and Pandy would have sworn something vaguely tail-like moved inside his baggy pants. “It was mostly designed to distract an attempted kidnapper so you could escape while someone came to your rescue, but here in my Domain,” he waved around at the library, “I have both more power and more control over the products of my magic.”

Turning to Hobart, who looked like he’d managed to gather a bit more of his dignity, and was even trying to smooth down the torn front of his robe, the Dragon leaned in and practically hissed, “And I remind you that I also have you in my Domain.”

Hobart’s hands stilled, and he shot a panicked look toward the door, then toward the person Augustus was still kneeling on. That person was almost worryingly still, and Augustus pressed his fingers to the side of the person’s neck, then shook his head and stood. “We’ll get nothing from him, I’m afraid. Just like the others.”

This time Beeswick did hiss, and to Pandy – and everyone else’s – astonishment, the floor opened up and swallowed the black-suited form. Then the door simply vanished, even as the walls rushed in toward them, drawing closer as they stretched up and up, so far overhead that no hint of light reached the floor beneath their feet. The bookshelves vanished, revealing the rest of the group, including all of the children, who huddled together beneath the protective oversight of Lady Reedsley. Only Clara stood off to the side, her perfect brows drawn together slightly as she puzzled over the events taking place before her.

Without any particular fanfare, Professor Beeswick became Elarion the Dragon. He didn’t tear out of his clothes, didn’t even seem to fill any more of the space than he had before he became all reptilian coils and vast violet, blue, and pink-scaled wings. Yet somehow he was enormous, while everything else was small in comparison. He curved his long neck down to put his scaly snout in Hobart’s face and puffed out a hot, humid breath that smelled faintly of mangoes.

As he did, a second Dragon appeared, circling on silver and yellow wings to land on Elarion’s shoulder. She was a fair bit rounder than she had been when Pandy first met her, and flew rather awkwardly, leading to a somewhat unfortunate resemblance to a pirate Dragon with a pudgy parrot that was also a Dragon.

Elarion sighed, but didn’t shake her off. Instead, he repeated, “You are in my Domain, and while my contract is… not what I once believed it to be, one thing remains true. Anyone who attempts to harm a student in the Library is mine to do with as I will.”

Hobart was as white as his robe as he said, “I didn’t harm anyone! In fact, I came here to help Thaniel, and that is exactly what I was attempting to do when you began this unfortunate display. I have no idea who that,” he glanced toward the spot where the Shadow had vanished into what was now a very dark floor, and swallowed hard, “person was, but it was simply an unfortunate coincidence that-”

“Your magic didn’t start out particularly strong, did it?” Augustus said, moving to stand next to Pandy. “How many promising Light healers have died in the last few decades? A dozen? More? But I don’t remember you ever leaving the temple, even during the height of the plagues.”

The High Priest shook his head. “I was needed in the-”

Augustus didn’t let him finish. “You weren’t strong enough to heal anyone alone, and you weren’t innovative enough to come up with other remedies, so you stayed safe at home, filing paperwork and listening to the prayers of Ismara’s faithful. You were the presumptive High Priest, but only because no one more powerful survived. They were sent into the worst areas, and they died there. I remember talking to Grace about it, shortly after one of her teachers passed away. She was baffled that the woman had even left Knightmere, not because other parts of West Altheric didn’t deserve Light healers, but because the Water healers had already found a cure for that disease. It was slow, but effective, and there was no need to risk Priestess Petra, yet there she was, and there she died.”

“Petra? That was almost five years ago!” Hobart protested. “I wasn’t even High Priest then. You can’t possibly-”

“Blame you?” Augustus asked. “I can when you were the person who sent her there. High Priestess Lillian was ninety-seven by then. She fell asleep mid-prayer at least half the time, and she certainly wasn’t creating duty rosters and work assignments.”

He took a step forward. “But what she did do was continue searching for her successor. I know because Grace sometimes got letters from her, asking if she might consider returning. You simply kept climbing through the ranks by virtue of the fact that they no longer had people to fill those spots.”

Another step. “And then, shortly after Grace’s death, when other priests were having prophetic dreams of a coming catastrophe, you suddenly showed an incredible increase in power. You claimed it was a gift from Ismara, in order to allow you to help West Altheric against whatever was coming, and Ismara herself never appeared to refute it. High Priestess Lillian finally confirmed you as her official successor, not just a placeholder, and then she died. Peacefully and not entirely unexpectedly, but very abruptly.”

Hobart sputtered again. “Lillian was more than a hundred years old! She was welcomed back to the bosom of Ismara!”

“Except that Light healers often live to be a hundred and ten. High Priest Andrew was nearly one hundred and thirty when he died.” In a lightning-quick motion, Augustus pulled on High Priest Hobart’s robe. It tore easily, already weakened and holey after Elarion’s assault. There, in the center of the soft, exposed flesh, sat an oval crystal, milky white and about an inch across.