At the Sign of the Dancing Dragoyle

     Still, who said the dregs of Neopian society did not know how to have a good time?

     All the patrons present watched in awe as a Darigan Aisha danced and twirled on the stage to the upbeat tune a Pirate Buzz tickled out of an ancient piano. Next to the Buzz were a couple of fiddle players – a Brown Xweetok who tried to step with his rhythm but had to dodge a few stones thrown at him, and a Grey Vandagyre whose expression was a stark contrast to the music they created. But aside from the spectators unsatisfied with the Xweetok’s bonus jig, the audience was focused on the Aisha. Her captivating smile, her green eyes like emeralds worth stealing, and her beautiful red hair restrained only by a golden circlet.

     There were rumours of thieves who had tried to take her circlet or her bangles, or even the tambourine she shook and brandished. None of them succeeded.

     So, she continued to dance and hold everyone in thrall. No thief was as skilful as she, who could steal the hearts of everyone who saw her, from the first steps of her performance to her finale and her curtsey. Quite a few Neopoints were thrown onto the stage as she bowed and continued to flash her radiant smile. No one cared that in the Dancing Dragoyle, a smile could mean many things, or nothing at all. And no one certainly tried to steal any of the Neopoints that were tossed her way; soon she gathered all of them into her skirt and slipped backstage.

     The Aisha had just shaken out all the coins onto a convenient little side table when she tensed and reached into one of her sleeves for a dagger. When she whirled around, she found herself facing a Blue Zafara in a hood and cloak. She scowled and did not relax, even though the Zafara was unarmed.

     She knew better. This particular Zafara was always armed.

     “What are you doing here?” the Aisha hissed, baring her fangs. That did little to dissuade the Zafara, who merely smiled, lowered her hood, and stepped forward.

     “Is that any way to treat your old friend?”

     “You, a friend? Last I heard, the Zafara Double Agent has no need for friends. Only tools for her job. And yes, I know you’re a double agent.”

     The Zafara Double Agent sighed and spread her arms. “Some of your fans were calling you Caylanna. Is that your new name, then?”

     “None of your business. Who are you this time? Cylene? Zephyr? Bridget?”

     “First of all, Bridget isn’t even one of my names. Second, does it matter? You know who I am. And I know who you are. You were the Court Dancer.” The Double Agent took another step forward, and the Court Dancer finally motioned to store the dagger back into her dress sleeve before holding up a finger to her lips. “But for all intents and purposes, today, I am Zyria.”

     “Shhh. I’m still wanted, remember? And you haven’t answered my question,” said the Court Dancer, quick to steer their conversation back on track as she glanced around, hoping no one working backstage would hear them. Reaching out, she gripped the Double Agent’s wrist and pulled her into a cramped dressing room, locking the door behind them. The only source of light was a lantern that blazed into life at a snap of the Court Dancer’s fingers. The Double Agent looked around and, more out of habit than anything, began to memorize the layout of the room. The folding screen next to the vanity, sashes and necklaces dangling from the mirror, a single closet, just large enough to hide an average-sized unconscious Neopian…

     “Well, ‘Zyria’?” the Court Dancer demanded, emphasizing the Double Agent’s new alias.

     “Well, ‘Caylanna’, I’ll have you know that I’m looking for a certain Lieutenant Thaddeus.”

     Realization dawned in the Court Dancer’s bright green eyes.

     “From Lord Kass’ army? What do you want from him? More importantly, whose side are you on this time?”

     The Double Agent merely chuckled, but her expression quickly became grave. “Let’s just say he took something from me. He went into hiding before Lord Kass…well, you know what happened.” She let out a breath. “I’m tracking him down and the trail led to the Dancing Dragoyle. But there’s more.”

     “What?”

     The Blue Zafara’s lips curled into a mirthless smile. “Lieutenant Thaddeus…was the one who ordered your father banished from Darigan Citadel.”

     It was as if someone had flung the door of the dressing room wide open for a particularly cold and harsh draft to blow into the area. The Court Dancer’s eyes flashed dangerously, and she gripped the circlet still in her hair. She breathed in and out, leaning against what little section of unoccupied wall she could find. “Lieutenant Thaddeus…betrayed my father? And…and he’s here?” she hissed.

     “More than that,” the Double Agent whispered. “I think after taking a morphing potion…he’s disguised as someone here in the Dancing Dragoyle. Maybe even the owner.”

     “Wh-what?” The Aisha gasped, a hand flying to her mouth. “Old Leonie the Skeith and Lieutenant Thaddeus the Yurble – one and the same? You can’t be serious! He let me stay here, get a job…”

     “Which brings us back to why I’m here,” said the Double Agent smoothly. “I heard you became the resident attraction of this shady little tavern. Actually, that’s precisely why I am here. I know I always work alone, but this time, I need your help, I need to know what you know about the Skeith you and everyone else call Old Leonie – but really, any information about your fellow workers pointing toward Lieutenant Thaddeus would be useful.”

     The Court Dancer shook her head as she straightened up, glaring at the Double Agent.

     “You need my help. After all this time. You expect me to just say yes?”

     “Of course I don’t.”

     “What’s in it for me, then?”

     A flicker of melancholy crossed the Double Agent’s normally unfathomable face. “I have a lead that might help you find your father.”

     “What makes you think I want to go through all this trouble, going behind Leonie’s back, just for a chance to see my father again?”

     “Let’s be real, Morguss isn’t exactly a model parent,” the Double Agent replied, shrugging. “If you’re here, without her, presumably without any plans to return home, this means you’ve left her for good. But your father is alive. You still have family – doesn’t he care about you? Wasn’t he a field medic?”

     The Darigan Aisha frowned deeply, fingers closed around her circlet. “If he cared about me, he would have tried to come back for me. He would have taken me with him.”

     “You really think he would have had the time to come back for you with Lieutenant Thaddeus and the rest of Kass’ minions on his tail to make sure he never returns? You know what the penalty would have been if your father was caught.”

     Gritting her teeth, the Court Dancer pondered this. Finally, she pointed to the door of her dressing room.

     “Get out,” she snarled. “Get out before I take my dagger out again.”

     “So you will help me track the good lieutenant down?”

     “I said, get out!”

     * * *

     The Zafara Double Agent had, in fact, gotten out of the tavern after their reunion. But their conversation stuck to the back of the Court Dancer’s mind like a freshly thrown Sticky Snowball.

     Now, the Aisha stared at the door of Leonie’s office, which was backstage. She couldn’t believe that the Plushie Skeith that ran the Dancing Dragoyle could be a former soldier of Lord Kass’ army, but…there was so little she knew about him and the tavern itself, simply because she kept to herself, not asking too many questions. If she started asking, she reasoned to herself, she would look suspicious. Her hand hovered over the door handle, she breathed in, and pushed the door open.

     Leonie’s office was neat and tidy. The drawers had writing materials, meticulously arranged. The documents on his desk were all contracts related to the tavern, or bills. The Court Dancer scanned the papers as quickly as she could; at this time, Leonie would be cleaning the kitchen with Perez, Kyellan, and Flyweight, but what if the three tavern musicians were cooperative enough to help the Skeith finish the cleanup ahead of time?

     The cupboards were full of supplies. One even had a crossbow and bolts, even a jagged dagger – but none of them looked like standard-issue Darigan Citadel weapons. Cursing under her breath, she bent down and looked under the desk and cabinets and carpet, even tapped the floorboards…but her search proved fruitless, and she hurried to leave the office after erasing all traces of her presence therein. She even had to clear a strand of her auburn hair from the desk just to make sure.

     When the Court Dancer emerged from the office, thinking of searching Leonie’s bedroom next, she heard voices and ducked behind a stack of crates and crude props; some thieves had a flair for theatre and the Dancing Dragoyle was always happy to indulge would-be thespians.

     “…could’ve finished sooner if you didn’t throw that glass at Commac…”

     “It was all Flyweight’s fault, I was aimin’ for him! He tattled on me to Old Leonie!”

     The Brown Xweetok and Grey Vandagyre passed by the Court Dancer’s hiding place and paused; she tried not to move an inch or make any sound.

     “Can’t blame you, but thanks to you, we had to clean up broken glass! Remember the last time our customers found broken glass on the floor, Kyellan?” the Xweetok hissed.

     The Vandagyre sighed and rolled their eyes. “That Flyweight’s always been a pain in my tailfeathers since day one, Perez. Showin’ up to boss me ‘round like he’s some sorta commander…just ‘cause he plays the piano don’t mean he’s the boss o’ me!”

     “Yeah, yeah, but he’s been here before either of us. And it’s already gone to his head.” Perez scratched his cheek. “Hmm…yeah, sometime after that Lord Kass up and gone, he showed up. I remember it well – a Pirate Buzz with this long, curved dagger…”

     “Ya think he was with Lord Kass?”

     “Dunno. Maybe? He doesn’t really talk about himself, I just heard this one from Leeanne, the island Lutari regular from the Thieves’ Guild. And she wouldn’t lie about that. Probably.”

     “She’s got eyes everywhere. Kinda freaky, if ya ask me.”

     The Court Dancer did not move until Perez and Kyellan were out of sight, and she breathed a soft sigh of relief. Though she was outwardly relieved, her heart was beginning to race.

     I still need to search Old Leonie’s room. Just to make sure.

     * * *

     She waited until the Skeith had emerged from his room with a fresh change of clothes before slipping into his quarters on the second floor – though not without help from a lockpick she always kept on her person. Admittedly, she was impressed by how organized he was – and disappointed at how there was probably nothing of note in such a spartan room. But when she opened the bottommost drawer of his bedside table, she heard a rattling noise. The Darigan Aisha reached into the drawer, past pairs of socks and other accessories, and felt the bottom of the drawer loosen.

     Immediately she emptied the drawer – carefully arranging the items so she remembered how to put them back in place as she had found them – and pried the bottom part of the drawer open.

     It was full of leatherbound journals, marked with dates and years. Out of curiosity the Court Dancer selected the most recent one and flipped back to its earlier pages.

     “Caylanna once again performed to a full house,” she read softly, furrowing her brow at her fake name. “Every day I wonder if she is the Court Dancer, the one said to have mesmerized King Skarl’s court. She could be weaving a spell over her audience, but at least it brings in the money. I’ll have to tell her she did a good job again today.”

     A chill ran down her spine, but she shook her head, put that journal away and rooted around for the oldest one.

     The Court Dancer did not care about the pages detailing the opening of the Dragoyle, except for one important detail: the tavern had opened while Lord Kass still ruled the Citadel. Her lip curled; she was quite excited to tell the Zafara Double Agent that Leonie ought to be cleared of suspicion, if he was already running the place long before Lieutenant Thaddeus left Darigan Citadel.

     But that raised a new question.

     “Then…who is it?”

     Her brow furrowed, the Darigan Aisha started scanning the journals with the dates coinciding with the fall of Kass, looking up every now and then at the door, listening with all four of her ears.

     “Flyweight,” she said, the name leaping out at her on a journal. Her eyes flicked to the date and she bit back a gasp. Though she no longer returned to the Citadel after her flight from Meridell Castle, the Court Dancer remembered that date well.

     It was the day Kass had vanished. Most presumed that he was dead; others foolishly held on to the possibility that he might still be alive.

     A Pirate Buzz named Flyweight came to apply for a job today. What job exactly, he didn’t really care, but the poor guy didn’t really have much in the way of practical skills. He didn’t know how to cook beyond the basics, and didn’t sing or dance…but he did know how to play the piano, and it was only a matter of shaking the rust off. The rumours of cheap, temporary morphing potions being smuggled into Meridell seem to be true, though; I could have sworn that I saw Flyweight beginning to change back while he was in the restroom. Into what exactly, I didn’t know. But I saw purple fur and horns. Could he have been Darigan?”

     She shuddered and nearly dropped the journal. The sound of footsteps and someone jiggling the door handle told her to put the journal back, shut the secret compartment in the drawer, and replace all of Leonie’s things in it. Then she quickly ducked under the bed, grateful that the tavern owner remembered to dust under it.

     The Court Dancer was already looking for a good excuse in case Leonie found her, but she didn’t need one. Or perhaps, she needed a better one.

     When the door swung open slowly, it was not a Plushie Skeith that greeted her, but a Pirate Buzz, who looked around in the room. The Court Dancer braced herself to make a break for it in case Flyweight thought to search the bed.

     But he did not search the bed.

     The Aisha was about to breathe a sigh of relief, but it stopped in her throat when she saw him bend down to open the drawer that she had dug through a moment ago for the journals. Her eyes widened when she saw how quickly he pulled the journals out from the secret compartment, flipped through one of them –

     “Flyweight!”

     The Court Dancer tensed when she heard another voice – and saw a Plushie Skeith burst into the room.

     “What are you…” The Skeith gasped. “Where did you get those?”

     “You can’t lie to me anymore, Old Leonie,” the Buzz snarled, throwing the open journal at Leonie, who caught it close to his chest. “You also suspected that the Court Dancer was here, didn’t you? Why didn’t you tell me?”

     “I don’t have any proof Caylanna is the Court Dancer,” Leonie answered steadily, clasping the journal to his chest. “Besides, I’ve seen worse walk into my doors…Lieutenant Thaddeus.”

     The Buzz gasped, taking a step back. He rose a foot into the air, buoyed by his wings.

     “You have proof that I’m this…this lieutenant guy?”

     “More proof than I have for Caylanna as the Court Dancer. All this time she has been with me, she has not given me any trouble.”

     “Trouble?” Flyweight threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, just you wait. That little lady is trouble wherever she goes and would betray you to save her skin. Just like her father, Major Crandall of the Council of Kass.”

     The Court Dancer gritted her teeth, biting back a retort.

     “Leave my room,” Leonie hissed. “Leave and I’ll forget all of this happened.”

     “After I found out that you’ve been harbouring a Darigan Citadel fugitive? Oh no. I’ve seen her dance night after night. I know she’s the Court Dancer. And I’ll have you charged for obstruction of justice!”

     Flyweight drew a curved dagger from his back and swooped toward Leonie. The Skeith yelped in pain, clutching his arm and staggering against his bed. The Court Dancer winced at the sound, and finally darted out from her hiding place, her own dagger meeting Flyweight’s.

     “C-Caylanna?” Leonie whimpered. “What are you – “

     “Here’s your proof, the little scoundrel was sneaking around!” Flyweight sneered as he blocked her slashes and thrusts. “What do you say to that now, Old Leonie? For a plushie, you sure are soft in the head!”

     The Darigan Aisha screamed as she stabbed toward his wing with her dagger. It was a direct hit; Flyweight had tried to fly, but he staggered and dropped to the floor. She levelled her blade toward his head.

     “Well, that was fast. Stand back, I’ve got a morphing potion antidote.”

     “You!” the Court Dancer growled.

     A Blue Zafara stepped into the room casually, one knife in her palm and a small cloudy vial in her other hand, the contents of which she scattered over Flyweight. His appearance as a Pirate Buzz seemed to ripple and fade away, until a Darigan Yurble remained on the floor, glaring at the Zafara and the Aisha who had drawn their blades against him before sprawling into unconsciousness.

     “T-There you are,” gasped Leonie.

     “Oh yeah, I laced the antidote with a sleeping draught.”

     The Court Dancer scowled before hurrying over to Leonie, binding up his arm. “Did you always know, A – Zyria?” she demanded, glancing from her, to Leonie, to Thaddeus. “You knew Thaddeus was Flyweight all along! Leonie knew? Was this all…a setup?”

     “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” The Plushie Skeith smiled weakly. “I normally don’t get involved, if you know what I mean…but Zyria told me you might be in danger.”

     The Double Agent shrugged. “While you were investigating Old Leonie, I confirmed a few things. I found empty morphing potion bottles in Flyweight’s quarters – the cheap kind. A few of Lord Kass’ old documents. Correspondence with a Kass loyalist. And…exactly what I was looking for.”

     At those last words, she was not looking at the Yurble she was already tying up. Instead, she was looking at the Court Dancer.

     * * *

     “When Thaddeus left the Citadel, I knew he also had with him one other thing. Lord Kass had him investigate my past, and everything I was doing. But he didn’t believe it. Probably because I’m so good at my job.” The Zafara Double Agent winked as she leaned against the closet in the Court Dancer’s dressing room. “So, he took this information with him. I don’t know why he hasn’t used it, but I guess he did want to start a new life…until you showed up here, his ticket to redemption in Lord Darigan’s eyes.”

     “Instead, you’re going to deliver him to Lord Darigan. What a twist of fate,” the Court Dancer muttered as she sat in front of her mirror, brushing her hair. “Where’s that dossier now? The one with all the dirt on you.”

     “Burned beyond recognition. What a pity that not even you will get to read it.”

     “As if I wanted to. After you strung me and Leonie along in your plot to catch Thaddeus. But…ugh, I guess I should thank you.”

     The Zafara Double Agent chuckled softly.

     “But you did help me, so here’s my end of the deal.” She passed a folded slip of paper to the Darigan Aisha. “Here. I heard Major Crandall was seen around this village. Said to be a refugee from the wars. It’s not far, though it’s a bit of a trek.”

     “And that’s it? Are you going to leave again, Agent? Just like last time?” The Court Dancer adjusted her circlet and stood up, hands on her hips.

     “I do owe Leonie for making you go through his stuff, so I think I’ll come by when I’m not working. Maybe watch you dance now that you’re not going around hypnotizing others.”

     The Aisha held a finger up to her lips. “Shhhh. Thanks to you, Leonie knows my secret. At least he can keep secrets – apparently, he’s an expert.” She locked eyes with the Zafara. “You better show up. Or else.”

     “I thought you said I didn’t need friends, only tools. And you were the perfect tool.”

     “Which was not part of the plan, so you owe me for that, too. You can start repaying me by coming around the Dragoyle more often. I’ll make sure no one asks too many questions.”

     “Fair. I have a sleeping Yurble to deliver to Lord Darigan, but I’ll be back. While I’m gone, you could go see your father.”

     “How do I know this isn’t another one of your tricks, hm?”

     “No more tricks. I promise. I wouldn’t lie to you about this.”

     The Court Dancer unfolded the slip of paper clenched in her hand. Only one word was written on it – the name of a small village near the mountain range. She whispered that word reverently, under her breath.

     Trestin.

     The End.