Chapter 4 - The Shadows of Forgotten Isles

  It was in the twilight of a particularly wearying week—the kind when proclamations bred faster than facts could hope to keep pace—that a messenger arrived at the Fortress of Golden Ambition bearing tidings that would disturb even the Dragon-King's formidable capacity for self-assurance.

  The sun had begun its descent over the Churning Sea, painting the waters in shades of orange and gold that matched, not incidentally, Lord Donaldo's own brassy scales. The Dragon-King stood upon his balcony, rehearsing a new gesture for his next proclamation—a sweeping motion with one clawed hand that he felt conveyed both authority and magnanimity. Below, in the great hall, Rubius the Brownie attended to the evening routines, ensuring the kitchen sprites had not succumbed to vapors and that the Glimmering Slates were properly charging for the night.

  It was then that the doors burst open.

  A messenger, mud-spattered and breathless, stumbled into the hall. His cloak bore the insignia of the Castle of Records—a tower entwined with a scroll, signifying secrets kept and secrets revealed in equal measure. He clutched a leather tube sealed with wax of deepest crimson.

  "Rubius," he gasped, "this must reach the Dragon-King at once. The archivists say—they say—" He paused to catch his breath. "They say the shadows are stirring."

  Rubius took the tube, broke the seal, and unrolled the scroll within. His eyes moved slowly across the parchment, and as they did, his face adopted an expression that those who knew him well would recognize as profound resignation layered over genuine concern.

  He read it twice, then three times, hoping the words would rearrange themselves into something less troubling. They did not oblige.

  The scroll spoke of ancient records—ledgers bound in leather and stored in the deepest vaults of the Castle of Records, vaults so deep that even the archivists sometimes forgot what they contained. These were the Ledgers of the Silver Wings, documenting every journey taken aboard the vessels of a certain shadowy brotherhood that had once operated from a small, private island in the warmer southern waters. The brotherhood called themselves, in their own records, simply The Shadowy Brotherhood, though others had given them less charitable names over the years.

  The Isle of Forgotten Sins, the scroll continued, had been a place of peculiar entertainments and peculiar guests. And among those guests, according to the ledgers, the name of Lord Donaldo the Tremendous appeared with a frequency that might, to an uncharitable observer, suggest more than casual acquaintance.

  There was more. Much more.

  A woman had come forward—a Hidden Witness, the scroll called her—claiming that she had encountered the Dragon-King in her youth, at gatherings hosted by the Shadowy Brotherhood, in circumstances she now described as deeply unfortunate. The Castle of Records had conducted interviews. Four scrolls had been produced, documenting her testimony in meticulous detail.

  Only one of those scrolls remained in the public archives.

  The other three had vanished.

  (How does a scroll vanish from the Castle of Records, gentle reader? The archivists themselves could not say. They could only say that the spaces where the scrolls should have been were empty, and that the records of who had last requested them were likewise empty, and that the records of who had last requested those records were also empty, and so on, into a maddening regression of emptiness that the archivists called, in their private moments, "Tuesday.")

  Rubius tucked the scroll into his tunic and climbed the spiral staircase to his master's balcony.

  Lord Donaldo was still gesturing at the sunset. "And then," he was murmuring, "I shall say, 'The warlocks begged for mercy, but I, Lord Donaldo the Tremendous, showed none!' No, that is too harsh. 'I showed measured restraint, tempered with wisdom!' Yes, that is better. The people like wisdom. Rubius!" He noticed the brownie approaching. "Come, tell me which you prefer: mercy or wisdom?"

  "Your magnificence," Rubius said carefully, "there is a matter that requires your immediate attention."

  The Dragon-King turned, his golden eyes narrowing at the scroll in Rubius's hand. "What now? Have the warlocks launched more arrows? Is it Tuesday already?"

  "It is always Tuesday somewhere, your magnificence. But no, this is not about the warlocks. This is... closer to home."

  He handed over the scroll.

  Lord Donaldo read in silence. The smoke from his nostrils, which had been a lazy wisp befitting the peaceful evening, thickened into a steady stream. His scales, usually a cheerful brassy orange in the sunset light, seemed to darken at the edges.

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  "The Ledgers of the Silver Wings," he said slowly. "The Isle of Forgotten Sins. These are old names, Rubius. Ancient history. I barely recall—that is to say, I recall nothing of consequence."

  "The scroll says your name appears multiple times, your magnificence. Between the years 1993 and 1997."

  "Multiple times!" Lord Donaldo's voice rose, disturbing a flock of seabirds resting on the balcony rail. "Multiple times in four years! That is hardly—I mean, that is—Rubius, I flew on many vessels in those days. Many vessels. I was a busy dragon. A successful dragon. People wanted me on their vessels. I was in demand."

  "The vessel belonged to the Shadowy Brotherhood, your magnificence. The one from the Isle of Forgotten Sins. The one whose leader—"

  "I know whose leader!" Smoke billowed forth in earnest now. "Everyone knew them. Everyone visited that island. It was the place to be. Ask anyone. Ask—" He stopped, realizing that asking anyone might not produce the answers he desired. "We had a falling out, you know. Years ago. Long before any of this. Before any of these accusations."

  "Your magnificence, the scroll also mentions a Hidden Witness. A woman who claims—"

  "I know what she claims!" Lord Donaldo began pacing the balcony, his claws clicking against the stone. "These are lies, Rubius. Old lies, resurrected by the Deep Realm to distract from my victories. The warlocks are defeated, the republic is thriving, the camels are fleeing—everything is perfect. And what does the Deep Realm do? They send messengers with scrolls about thirty-year-old ledgers!"

  He stopped pacing and fixed Rubius with a gaze that attempted to convey certainty but instead conveyed something closer to desperate hope.

  "Rubius, where are the other three scrolls? The ones that vanished?"

  "No one knows, your magnificence. They are... missing."

  A long silence fell between them. The seabirds, sensing the tension, wisely remained on the rail but edged slightly farther away.

  "Missing," Lord Donaldo repeated. A slow smile spread across his scaly face. "Missing scrolls. Lost records. Vanished testimony. Rubius, do you see? This is not my problem. This is the Castle of Records' problem. They lost the scrolls. They are responsible. I will simply say—I will proclaim—that the entire matter is a Deep Realm conspiracy to destroy me with false documents and conveniently missing evidence."

  "Your magnificence, the scrolls existed. People know they existed. The Hidden Witness exists. She has spoken to the archivists. Her testimony—"

  "Her testimony is in the missing scrolls, Rubius. Without the scrolls, there is no testimony. Without testimony, there are only rumors. And rumors, my dear brownie, are merely opinions that haven't been properly disputed yet."

  Lord Donaldo returned to his gesture practice, though his movements were now somewhat agitated. "Now, about the camels. Do you think I should add a detail about their eyes? Wide with terror? The people love specific details. It makes the story more real."

  Rubius sighed—a sigh that carried the accumulated weight of twenty years of service, twenty years of gentle corrections ignored, twenty years of watching his master construct elaborate castles of self-deception on foundations of sand.

  He checked his Glimmering Slate. The headlines were already forming:

  "Hidden Witness Accuses Dragon-King: Where Are the Missing Scrolls?"

  "Castle of Records Launches Internal Investigation Into Vanished Documents"

  "Deep Realm Denies Involvement, Calls Accusations 'Distraction Tactics'"

  "Your magnificence," Rubius said quietly, "the Guild of Endless Scrolls will have this by morning. It will be on every Shimmering Mirror. The Storm-Hawks will screech. The Harpies will circle. The High College will consult their chicken entrails and issue statements."

  "Let them," Lord Donaldo replied, though his voice wavered slightly. "I have faced worse. I have faced the Windmill Giants. I have faced the Goblins of the Pass of Poor Decisions. I have faced the Warlocks of the Pheasant Throne, and look—they are defeated! Gone! Nothing!"

  "Your magnificence, the warlocks are currently meeting in the Palace of Seven Courtyards to discuss launching more arrows on Tuesday."

  "Details, Rubius. Mere details."

  The Dragon-King squared his shoulders and drew himself up to his full height, smoke curling defiantly from his nostrils.

  "Tomorrow, I shall issue a proclamation. I shall say that the Hidden Witness is a paid agent of the Deep Realm. I shall say that the missing scrolls prove nothing because if they proved something, they would not be missing. I shall say that I am the most exonerated dragon in the history of the republic. The people will believe me. They always do."

  He paused, considering.

  "Also, I shall add something about the camels. Perhaps that the camels themselves have come forward to deny the witness's claims. Yes, that is good. Camel witnesses. The people love camels."

  Rubius opened his mouth to speak. He considered explaining that camels do not, as a rule, come forward to deny anything, being beasts of burden with no particular interest in political scandals. He considered pointing out that adding more invented details might not be the optimal strategy when already facing questions about past associations. He considered suggesting that perhaps, just perhaps, a moment of quiet reflection might serve better than another proclamation.

  He opened his mouth to speak.

  Then he closed it again.

  "Very good, your magnificence," he said instead. "I shall inform the kitchen sprites to prepare extra parchment for tomorrow's proclamation. They will likely faint, but they always recover."

  As he descended the spiral staircase, his furry feet making their familiar soft scuffing sounds against the stone, Rubius glanced once more at his Glimmering Slate.

  The headlines had multiplied.

  "47,635 Scrolls Missing From Castle of Records, Archivists Confirm"

  "Loyal Opposition Demands Special Investigator"

  "Emir Benjamin the Cautionary Issues Statement: 'We Are Monitoring the Situation Closely'"

  Rubius tucked the slate away and headed toward the kitchens. The sprites would need encouragement. The morning would bring chaos. And somewhere in the distance, beyond the Churning Sea, the Warlocks of the Pheasant Throne were probably laughing into their tea.

  He muttered under his breath, so quietly that even he barely heard it:

  "Another storm on the horizon. They never stop coming."