(Path of the Dragon Mage: Exiled) 36. The Spy (Patreon)

Corvus returned to Solt’s estate a few hours before  dawn. That didn't leave much time to sleep. His exhaustion resistance  ability was going to get a workout.

No matter.

He took two steps off the sagebrush trail and then stopped. Every  lamp in the estate had been put out hours ago. He would have never  spotted the movement in the darkened doorway of the estate ahead without  the help of his Night Vision.

That was why the man did not spot him.

Corvus ducked back into the shadow of the brush just as an unfamiliar  man stepped out of the estate, carefully easing the wooden door shut  behind him. He wore dark clothing and soft slipper-like shoes that left  no prints in the hard-packed earth.

Corvus's heart raced. A thief? No, he carried nothing but a small  pouch on his belt. Likely for lock picks. An assassin? If so, he was one  without blood on his hands. Corvus had trouble seeing color with his Night Vision, but the man's clothing and hands were without stains.

Even stumbling drunk, he was certain Solt would have put up a fight if someone tried to end his life.

The man took a narrow path away from the estate that brought him  nearer to Corvus than he would have liked. Corvus held completely still,  trying to blend into the shadows.

It was with a heart-stopping jolt when he recognized the man's face.

He did not know his name. Many people came and went from the King's  palace. But Corvus was certain he had seen this man before… dressed in  the fine outfit of a clerk, perhaps.

He was not a noble. No man of good breeding would wear such un  ornamented clothing or do such distasteful work like breaking into a  home, himself. No, he was working on behalf of someone else from the  palace.

Corvus suspected he was a spy.

Who had sent him? His father? His mother? Aunt Sunli?

The last seemed the most likely as it was his aunt who sent him to Solt.

The egg, he realized. The spy is searching for evidence of my treachery to the crown.

He didn't have the egg with him, or a bag of holding in which to hide it. Did that mean he didn't find anything?

Corvus had to know for certain.

It was an agony to wait until the spy passed him by. Then, silently, Corvus turned to follow the man.

His boots were not soft-soled, and he had to step carefully not to  rustle dead leaves or snap twigs. The one thing he had on his side was  the darkness. He could see the spy, but the spy made no indication he  could see Corvus.
In fact, he did not turn Corvus's way once or cast  any glances back towards the estate. He walked along the path  confidently, as if he had used it several times before.

The end of the footpath wound around to a small cart trail that would  eventually connect back up to the road to Duckwater Village.

A second man stood waiting, also dressed in black and holding the  reins for two horses. He carried no lamps to light his way, but that was  no problem for Corvus.

He crouched in the shadows, using the sage to cover his dark outline, and watched.

Silently, the second man handed over the reins to the spy as he walked up, then gave him a look.

"No change," the spy said shortly. "Though the prince has sneaked out from under Cartwright's nose. That's not an easy feat."

The other man jerked back in surprise, though no noise passed his lips.

The spy waved. "I'm sure he's off tumbling a maid — being a regular  teenager for once. His clothing and possessions are still there, as well  as the unhatched egg. He'll be back."

Watching from the shadows, Corvus was certain he felt spiders crawling up his spine. Or perhaps it was shock.
They knew about the egg. They knew about him.

The second man did... something with his freed hands. He made several quick but controlled gestures.

"No," the spy said. "I told you there was no change. The prince has  it hidden under his bed, so I assume Cartwright doesn't know about it.  The alcohol must have pickled his brain."

Again, the man gestured with his hands. Corvus could see well in darkness, but he was still a distance away.

Squinting, he was certain he saw a shallow divot where the apple in his throat should be.

He was an Unspoken. Altered to keep the King's secrets. Just like the  man who had driven him in the cart from the palace. This was a man who  could tell no tales... though it seemed he had found some way to  communicate after all.

The spy snorted. "One of two fertile dragon eggs in the kingdom? No one will take the chance."

With that, he mounted his own horse. So did the Unspoken. Together,  they turned to walk them quietly down the trail. Even their tack was  specialty made not to jingle.

Corvus wished he had a way to follow the pair, but the road was  narrow and penned in on both sides by the sagebrush. If the humans did  not sense him, the horses surely would.

Besides, a new fear filled his heart. The man knew about his egg. He  had seen it, possibly examined it. What if he had somehow hurt it?

It was completely irrational — nothing known could pierce the shell  of a royal dragon — but once the two were out of sight down the road,  Corvus's feet flew back to the estate. He had to force himself to stop  before he barged through the front door and woke Solt.

Besides, the spy had thoughtfully locked the door on his way out… as well as oiled the hinges so they would not squeak.

Good thing Corvus had sneaked out through his bedroom window.

He opened it, tumbled in, and practically threw himself under the bed for the dragon egg.

It sat in its cloth nest, looking undisturbed. Pulling it out, he  cradled it in his arms and checked the shell for any striations, chips,  or breakage. There was nothing.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

The dragon egg pulsed weakly in his hands.

"That wasn't the first time he'd seen you. He'd come before... but  when?" While Corvus was asleep? He didn't seem concerned, or surprised,  to find Corvus gone. Considering he spent most evenings out of bed more  than in it...

Corvus shook his head. "Why didn't you tell me someone knew about you?"

The egg pulsed again. As what had become normal lately, the pulse had none of the vigor as before.

The dragonet inside was still weak, possibly sick. His fault. Roan's  quest was important, but he should have never put himself in the  position where the egg had to save him.

If she hatched, he could feed her. Warm her by the fire. Figure out what was wrong and fix it.

If only, he had her name…

Leaning against the bed, he tried to recall all the horsefolk names he'd heard tonight. "Kressa, Corliss, Marta..."

It had become a ritual of sorts. Or perhaps an act of desperation. He  had long run out of names he knew and out of every history book he  could recall. Thinking of new names was difficult. He tried, anyway.  There wasn't any harm, though it yielded no results.

Although it was highly doubtful his dragon would have a name of the horsefolk, he should at least try.

Soon, he was done. As always, there was no reaction. What if she were too weak to hatch?

I don't know that for sure, he thought stubbornly.

But he didn't not know that either.

What did he know for sure? Someone connected to the palace knew who  he was and that he had taken his dragon egg with him. The spy had called  him "Prince Corvus", though Corvus doubted his status as Cipherus's son  had somehow changed. More than likely, it was a force of habit or the  spy was being cautious because no one of low birth wanted to offend a  royal.

The spy also knew who Solt was and called him 'Cartwright'. Corvus  had already suspected Solt had been of that house though the  confirmation was nice.

But whom did the spy work for?

Likely his Aunt. She was the one who sent him to Solt in the first  place, so she likely knew where he was. Her daughter, Starella, had  included the dragon egg in his pack.

... Or so Sunli said.

For the first time, Corvus really wondered if Starella had anything to do with that at all.

The spy had mentioned there were two fertile dragon eggs. This was  new information as well. He had seen his father's dragon egg, once. It  had been listed as 'infertile' in the item description. But he had never  seen Aunt Sunli's or the King's.

If theirs were also infertile, he and Starella had the only two eggs capable of hatching.

Technically, we have equal chances to the throne. Or we would, if I were still considered a prince.

... The spy had called him a prince.

He was thinking in circles. His greatest concern was what to do next. He had to hatch the egg, both for her sake and his.

After all, the quest update had warned that failure was death.

For the first time, Corvus considered packing up his egg, clothing,  and some supplies in his bag of holding. Then he would saddle Merry-Rose  and ride out of here. Somewhere down the road away from Duckwater  Village.

He had an ever-growing collection of runes to help him, some middling  skills in combat. Hedge Witches were valuable. He could charm objects  and sell them for coin. He could search for the Daffodil dragon. She,  perhaps, could help him hatch his egg.

Taking up Kale the Horseman's offer and joining his clan was  tempting. Unfortunately, it would be the first place Solt looked after  the village.

The spy might be able to follow him there. And... no. It was not  worth the risk. The last thing he wanted to do was put anyone else in  danger.

Even if it meant leaving Gwen and Roan behind forever.

"I could run away. Travel down a new path all together…" he whispered  to the egg. Then he looked down guiltily at the shell. "But I still  don't know what to do about you."

There was one person who might: Larissa the Long-Eyes. She didn't  seem to have special knowledge about dragons, true, but she knew all  about the Paths.

"Your name's not Larissa, is it?" he asked the egg. "No? Long-Eyes, maybe?"

Nothing.

Well, it was worth a try

Corvus felt like he stood before a fork in the road of his own life.  Larissa might be able to advise him which direction to travel next.

Enough time had passed since the feral dragon escape. Surely, any suspicion in the village must have eased.

He only had two hours until dawn at the most. Three until Solt woke,  bellowing about breakfast. Not enough time to make it to the village and  back.

"We will see Larissa tonight," he promised the egg.