The Caged Dragon (Cycle of Dragons Book 1) by Dan Michaelson (miss read books .txt) 📗

but it had been built so skillfully that it was easy enough to believe that artisans from centuries before had managed to construct that way.

“Dad doesn’t like us going to Marshal’s Tower.”

“That’s just because he doesn’t like getting that close to the king’s men.”

She grinned at me. “You don’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s my first choice, but…” I flashed another smile at her. “For you, I’ll head there.”

As we forced our way through the crowd we came upon a circus troupe performing. There wereprobably a dozen of them, a combination of acrobats, dancers, and minstrels, accompanied by the sounds of people chanting and stomping around them. A strange furred creature crawled along one of the acrobats. It looked like a mix between a ferret and a squirrel. My gaze lingered for a moment before I tore it away. I had to pull on Alison to get her to come with me.

“We could watch just a little while longer,” she said.

“We could, but that’s not why we’re here.”

“We’re here to see all of this,” she said.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, nodding. There was no reason for me to tear her away. It would only upset her.

We reached another intersection, where a troupe of musicians were singing, their voices combating the chaotic sounds of the crowd, rising in an excited chant. Their clothing was dy ed in hues of deep greens in stripes of varying intensity with swirls of brown worked into it. The women’s dresses were all low-cut, revealing more cleavage than what was typical in the city, and the men had their arms exposed, showing off their tattoos. I didn’t know where they were from, but there was something fascinating about them.

They were good. Much better than the normal musicians we saw. Even I found myself listening to the song. It was a tale of the time before the kingdom had claimed Berestal.

“They’re from the Wilds,” Alison whispered.

“They have to be, to be singing a song like that,” I said. There was a vibrating energy to their voices, a rising chorus that was so distinct from how those within Berestal would sing.

“I’m surprised they would sing that kind of a song here.”

It was the kind of song that was bound to get noticed, but only if soldiers came around. With the crowd around them, they had a little time. I imagined them moving on if they were caught, regrouping and starting again.

I shrugged, sweeping my gaze around the crowd. We were jostled from behind, as people pushed us. I tried to ignore them, and to focus only on the minstrels, wanting to listen to the song, to be caught up in it.

“When I was with Joran and his family, his sister revealed that there are quite a few Vard supporters within the city,” I said, lowering my voice. It was difficult to do and still be heard, though I didn’t want to shout anything out about the Vard openly. Especially not with the king and his men here.

“Supporters?”

I shook my head. “I suppose that’s not quite the right word. I think they said sympathizers.”

“I’ve heard that,” she said. I looked around. There were banners for the king all throughout the city, though some still flew the old Berestal banner from when it had been free. “I don’t know if we had much of a choice. You’ve heard how Dad talks about it.”

“I don’t know what to make of what our father says,” she said. “When he talks about some of the things he’s seen and done, it’s almost as if there’s more to him than we know. Other times, I think he’s delusional.” She looked over to me. “Like when he talks about the darkness in the forest that attacked him.”

“I know,” I said softly.

“I wish that day had never happened.”

“Me too.”

We fell silent again.

The troupe was singing about how the rains danced as they pattered over the plains, and how the people joined together. There was something to the song that pulled on some part of me, almost as if it were trying to dig out some buried aspect that pulled on the longing within.

“I don’t recognize the song,” Alison said.

“I don’t think that we’re supposed to recognize it. It might be an original. It’s more about the message within the song.”

“I still can’t believe they would sing it,” she said.

The minstrels cut off suddenly, as they packed their instruments and began to disperse, spreading in every direction. I stared for a moment until five soldiers marched along the street, all dressed in maroon and gold , the silver of their helms glittering under the sunlight.

I chuckled softly. “It seems we were right,” I said.

Berestal was normally tolerant of such things, a tolerance born by how close to the border of the kingdom they were, but with the king’s men in the city, tolerance had changed.

“Still, they were here,” she said.

“And we shouldn’t be,” I said. “It’s time for us to keep moving.”

“I thought you were willing to stay,” she said.

“I am willing to stay,” I said, “but we don’t need to stay here.”

I took her hand, not wanting to lose Alison in the crowd, as I pulled her along. We headed down the street, following the flow of the crowd. There was a certain current to it. On one side the people seemed to be moving toward the Marshal’s Tower, but on the other side of the street, they were making their way toward the gate. “We aren’t going to be able to see anything when we get there,” I said, noticing just how many people were heading in the same direction as us.

“You don’t know that,” she said.

I frowned, shaking my head. “I don’t, but look how many people are around us.”

We reached another intersection, and Alison stopped, looking along the street before turning her attention back to the tower. “We could sweep around,” she said. “The crowds aren’t likely to be as thick in the other parts of the city.”

“Why do you say