Let Sleeping Dragons Lie by Garth Nix

Author:Garth Nix
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Allen & Unwin
Published: 2018-09-09T16:00:00+00:00

Prince Kendryk hardly ever slept these days. Finishing the mural, and finishing it quickly, was all that mattered. He could tell from the gloating in his grandmother’s voice that time was running out.

When he did sleep, he dreamed of the earth shaking and splitting open, and huge gouts of flame blazing forth, as though the very world was ending.

He was in the middle of one of these dreams when a rough hand shook him awake. He was confused for a long moment. Was the ground shaking, or was he? Had he finished the mural at last and brought his plan to completion, or was it all unfinished and the outcome still unknown? Sometimes he wished he could simply let it go, and maybe if the outcome for Tofte wouldn’t be so awful, he would have. Personal gain wasn’t what he craved, and never had been.

‘Look at him, sleeping on the floor like some common drab,’ the regent muttered. ‘Wake up, Grandson! I have better things to do than attend to madmen in belfries.’

Kendryk sat up, rubbing his eyes. The person shaking him was Lord Deor, the Chief Regulator. Kendryk flinched away from his rough touch, and Lord Deor stepped back, executing the merest sketch of a bow as he went. The scabbard of his heavy sword dragged along the ground with a harsh scraping sound.

‘He is awake, Your Highness.’

‘About time.’ She took Lord Deor’s place at Kendryk’s feet, not deigning to stoop. She towered over him like the throne she coveted, a tall structure of wood and gold that made anyone sitting in it look simultaneously very small and extremely self-important.

‘I have news of your great-uncle,’ she said without preamble. ‘The former king. You must brace yourself.’

Kendryk placed his outspread hands on the stone floor. ‘I am as braced as I will ever be, Grandmother.’

‘He is dead,’ she said. ‘I received word this morning. There can be no doubt.’

The news, though half expected, was still shocking. Kendryk’s eyes flooded with tears, and he sensed the world crowding in around him like the walls of a prison. Was he truly alone now? Did he have no one to turn to but himself?

Dragon, dragon, heed our call …

He looked up, past his grandmother, to the mural. It was so nearly finished. He had hoped for more time, but now, perhaps, there was none.

‘I see that you are as shocked as I was,’ Odelyn said without any trace of shock at all. Egda’s sister, the regent, the architect of everything that had befallen Tofte in recent months, had no lost love for her brother. ‘Knowing that it would be your wish, I have declared a state funeral for three days from now. The kingdom will pause in his honour and bid a final farewell to a great king.’

The slight emphasis on great was all for Kendryk.

‘Yes,’ he said through his grief. ‘That is a good decision.’

‘I thought you would be pleased, although …’ She took three steps in a half circle, coming around so he sat between her and a wide-smiling Lord Deor.

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