In The Lair of the Draca (Book 2)

In The Lair of the Draca (Book 2) Chapter 37: Green Envy

Wainrak and Franek huddled together in a small corner of the kitchen, clasping hands. The tiny enclave was filled with the fresh, wonderful smells of a meal fit for a Queen: seasoned leeks; potatoes ground in their own skins and seasoned with a mix of salt and buttermilk; mushrooms floating in a sauce with an olive-oil base; and the main course, which was a hefty goose that had simmered in its own juices for the past several days. Wainrak, who was quite used to fixing the Mistress's favorite meals to assuage her bull-sized appetite, had slaughtered and plucked the goose herself.

Tonight, however, food was the last thing on anyone's mind. Wainrak, who had always been rather pale in complexion, had now blanched beyond belief. Franek was mildly afraid the girl would faint. Liquid brimmed in Wainrak's dove-grey eyes, and her poor lips trembled as though they ached to weep, to sob...but she made not a sound.

"...you're sure this meeting was to be tonight?"

"Y- yes." Wainrak wrenched her hand free from Franek's grip and tugged nervously at her blouse collar. "Dragura said to come alone, although she wished me to bring a full-course meal that she insisted she and I would 'share'. ...Other than that, she has said little."

Wainrak rushed suddenly forward and threw her arms around Franek's neck, wailing in helplessness and misery, but unable to cry-- she had no tears left. "Oh, Franek, what am I to do? Dragura suspects something. She must! She will ask me where the Draca have gone-- surely they should have been back by now with the Star-Child that she seeks-- what am I to tell her?"

"Wainrak, you must calm yourself," Franek said soothingly, although on the inside her chilled organs were quivering. "If you arrive in the Mistress's bedchambers a trembling mess of nerves and tears, things will not go well for you. Need I remind you of the time you were almost killed?"

"But Franek, why?" blubbered Wainrak. "She will ask me about what is going on with the lower Draca-- that is what you want us to call them now, isn't it?"

"Yes..."

"She will ask me about them. About their change in attitude, habits, and the absence of noise at night. She will ask what we've been doing with them-- and for the Twin Moons' sake, what will I tell her? I have not yet had my own chance to 'walk the line'. You know more about the training program with these lower Draca than I do. Oh, why did Dragura not ask to speak with you?"

Franek stared grimly into a pot of bubbling brussel sprouts; Dragura typically liked them cooked with large amounts of fat, which now floated to the surface in greasy-looking little spheres. "You know the Mistress," Franek said softly. "Of course she would not ask for me; she wants to throw us off somehow; disarm us. Catch us in some sort of lie or half-truth, and then she will have perfect excuse to fly into a rage-- or more."

"Aiiiie!" Wainrak sank back against the kitchen counter and threw one hand dramatically over her eyes. "I am doomed, doomed to death this time for certain! Just fetch a carving knife from the bottom drawer and open my veins now, Franek...I won't be able to stand the torture. Just get it over with, please!" And Wainrak collapsed into a fitful bundle in a corner of the kitchen, covering her face with shaking hands and bawling her fright, like a calf which is dimly aware that it has been taken from its dam and is destined for slaughter.

"Calm yourself," Franek snapped, fighting mightily to keep the beginnings of panic from welling in her own tired breast. "Has anyone asked about the whereabouts of Yoo?"

Wainrak sniffled and looked up. "Yuchek, the bully? Well, no-- has she been missing?"

"She is dead."

Wainrak clapped a hand over her mouth. "But-- but how--"

"One of the lower Draca, who could not tolerate her teasing, flew into a rage and bit off one of her hands. Yoo promptly lost her mind and threw herself over the edge of the roof between two turrets." Franek sighed heavily. "Barely had her body time to float on the surface of the water in the moat than the water-draga had scented their 'dinner' for that evening and-- well, disposed of her."