“To the mess, sir!”
“I see. As you and Lieutenant Slevoic are both so full of energy, you will put on your dress uniforms and guard my office door. Now. And Slevoic”—the captain held out his hand as the lieutenants turned to go—”give me your knife.”
Slevoic paused, then finished resheathing his knife. “No, sir.”
Silence fell hard in the hallway.
“What did you say, Lieutenant?” Suiden’s voice took on a basso rumble.
“I said, no, sir.” Slevoic looked over the captain’s shoulder. At me. All along the hallway, doors opened and heads popped out, and he raised his voice. “I refuse to go unarmed while Rabbit is not under restraints. Lord Esclaur was poisoned last night while in his company and he has just now tried to attack Groskin.”
For the first time in two days, Groskin met my eyes, ashamed. “That’s not true, sir. I overreacted—”
The captain rumbled over Groskin, flames leaping in his eyes. “You refuse a direct order, Lieutenant?”
Slevoic smiled, his face filled with taunting derision. “Yes, sir—hellfire and brimstone!” he shrieked as the very real dragon bore down on him. He scrambled backwards until he hit the wall, his gaze riveted on the flames licking out of Suiden’s muzzle. I pulled my blanket over my head, hoping that the captain wouldn’t find me in the dark.
“Do you really want to chomp the lieutenant, Suiden? I mean, he’s been hanging about with Ryson. No telling what he’s picked up.” I allowed a small opening in the blanket and watched as Javes the wolf appeared, placing himself between Suiden and Slevoic. He leaned against the dragon’s front legs and Suiden allowed himself to be stopped.
“You twist whatever you touch, Slevoic,” the dragon prince rumbled, and the windows shook. “And what you can’t, you break. But not my men. Never my men.” Barely fitting in the hall, Suiden’s wings scraped either side and the ceiling. He folded them tight against his body as his flames burned yellow-white. “Give me the knife.” Slevoic weighed surrendering his weapon versus having his arm and any other body parts ripped off. Or fried. He gingerly laid the knife in Suiden’s outstretched taloned claw and turned to escape downstairs.
“You haven’t been dismissed, Lieutenant,” Suiden said, and Slevoic froze, then pressed back against the wall. Suiden put his head to the door and looked into the room. “Come out from under there, Rabbit.” I emerged from under the blanket. “Where’s Jeffen?” Jeff came out from behind a footlocker, padding on black paws to the middle of the floor, avoiding the spider remains on the floor. Over at the other bunk, the healer stared down at the blue-eyed white wolf staring back at her. The royal griffins at the door shifted lion’s feet and ruffled their eagle’s feathers, while Groskin lay crouched down before Suiden in the hallway, the black panther’s ears flat to his skull. All through upstairs and downstairs I could hear the echo of animal sounds.
“Apparently Sro Cat’s final catalyst has happened,” Suiden said. “Can you change us back, Rabbit? Or are we stuck like this forever?”
“I don’t know, sir.” I swallowed, the now familiar metallic taste in my mouth, and my hands started to shake at the implication.
“Who cares? This is outstanding.” Javes squeezed past the royal griffins and ducked under Suiden’s head to come into the room. His yellow eyes were gleaming. “Is this how you’ve been seeing us, Rabbit?” He glanced down at his body. “What happened to our clothes?”
“Don’t know, sir,” I replied, my eyes on Suiden as the dragon turned his head to watch Slevoic.
“You don’t know? Perhaps we should ask the ambassador, eh?” The gray wolf sat on his haunches and looked about the room, his ears pricking forward as he saw Lord Esclaur. “I say, you too?”
As the two wolves eyed each other, I could hear the animal calls change into words as the world shifted once more. Laurel Faena entered the room carrying his staff, walking by Suiden in his brocade robe. Jeff was sitting on the floor, once more in his smalls. I looked down into my lap where my hands rested, and noted how they were still shaking. Breathe, I reminded myself.
“What has happened?” Laurel asked, as Jeff rose and, in a nonchalant way, moved to his bunk and snatched a blanket off, wrapping it around him. Javes had the presence of mind to also rise and now stood in his own splendidly bright silk robe, his quiz glass around his neck. Out in the hallway other faces filled the doorway behind Suiden, their eyes wide. Many were grinning—a few, though, were not.
“In good time, Sro Laurel,” Suiden said. He chose a burly trooper. “You will escort Lieutenant Slevoic to his quarters”—Slevoic jerked up and stared at the captain, his chest still heaving in his fright—”where he is to remain under guard until he is brought up on charges of insubordination. For a start.” Slevoic opened his mouth but, as Suiden gave a deep, rumbling growl, he shut it again, quick. The trooper slipped into his room, returning with sword and knife, and stunned looks followed them down as the men watched Slevoic being herded down the stairs. One, though, scowled.
“So,” Laurel said, looking at me. “What happened?”
“We were invaded by weavers—” I began, pointing to the flattened and fragmented spiders.
“We were hexed!” Ryson shouted out, causing everyone to start. (He must’ve not liked being a real sheep-biting, goat-tupping weasel.) The troopers shook off the shock of Slevoic being held accountable, and mutters of agreement swept through them.
“No one was ‘hexed,’ ” Laurel said, his voice mild, as he frowned at me. He then looked at the floor. “These weavers?” He brought the end of his staff down with a thump. “How many were there?”
“That was ten, sir,” Jeff said.
“A pox on the spiders—” Ryson said, and the muttering grew.
“What spiders?” the royal physician said. She left Lord Esclaur and moved over to where the spider pieces lay on the floor, and abruptly backed away again. “Everybody out of here. Now!” She grabbed Esclaur and hauled him up out of the bed. “Leave the blanket, my lord.”
“I’m bloody naked—”
“Do you want to be bloody dead?” The healer started pushing him towards the door, trying to pull the blanket off. “You know better, my lord. Why on earth did you stay in here?”
“But we got them all—” Esclaur began, turning his head to her.
The healer yanked him to the side. “You’re barefoot! Watch where you walk!”
Suiden stepped into the room and squatted down by one spider carcass, then immediately stood up again. “Ten Pale Deaths?” He moved quickly out into the hall, the royal guards also backing up. “Get your arses out of there. Now.” He looked at Laurel Faena. “You too, ambassador. Dying of their bite is very—unpleasant.”
I threw my blanket off and hurried to the door, Jeff and Laurel on my heels, making sure to avoid the weavers’ remains. “One crawled on Jeff’s hand,” I said.
“If you haven’t started convulsing by now, you weren’t bitten,” the healer said, as she examined Jeff’s hand. She then peered at me. “You didn’t step on any, did you, my lord?” Her gaze switched to Laurel. “Ambassador? Their venom goes right through the skin.”
Laurel and I checked our paws and feet, and heaved a sigh of relief when we saw they were clean. Javes looked smug, as he was wearing slippers that matched his robe.
“Rabbit probably called them—” Ryson tried again.
“Look,” Javes said, pointing.
I turned my head and stared. In the strengthening morning light I could see three more in the corners of the ceiling.
“Eleven, twelve, thirteen,” Jeff counted.