ã€ŠThe Dragon Thievesã€‹


 1. Egg Snatchers

    Janu kept as still as he could amidst the tangled brambles, one scratched hand resting on the fine-woven rope bag beside him, the other making a fistful of cold Alaram soil. Little specks of firelight flickered in the dark between the distant trees ¨C not so distant that he couldn''t hear the guards calling to each other.

    Branches rustled on the other side of the bag. Janu glanced over, but could only make out the whites of Fraidun''s eyes as he shuffled in place. As fidgety as a gnat, he is. Janu said nothing. He couldn''t afford to. Not with the double-edged promise of a small fortune or imprisonment and death resting between the two of them. Not with half the Principality''s guards on the hunt.

    All they could do was wait. One eternal minute stretched into the next. His old knees ached. The scratches on his face and hands had already begun to sting. Chill spring air sapped the flexibility from his joints and it seemed the whole forest, bird and beast alike, held its breath with him. But slowly, slowly, the guards moved on. Their chatter and loud footsteps vanished. The wind wove a mournful howl through the trees in their absence.

    ''Finally,'' Fraidun muttered, and set the brambles rustling as he began to move again.

    Janu lunged across the bag and grabbed hold of his cloak. ''Wait!''

    At the edge of his hearing and high above, the wind ruffled like a sail not quite set to the wind. A moment later came the flap of large wings. The Prince of Alaram himself was hunting for them, his bonded dragon the only such creature in his realm.

    Janu eyed the bag with its thick protective padding. It would remain the only dragon for longer than anticipated.

    ''I think we''re clear now,'' he said when some time had passed without the sound of pursuit.

    Fraidun muttered something under his breath and wriggled out of the bush. Janu did likewise, wincing at every snap and scrape. They paused for a while once they were clear, listening to the silence of the forest. Tentative birdsong began to creep in to fill the void the search had left.

    Together, they reached into the brambles and edged the bag out of their hiding place, straining at the weight until the waist-high bundle was fully clear.

    ''Galnai''d better be where she said she would,'' Fraidun said, pulling a twig out of his long hair. His teeth shone in a grimace.

    ''She will be.'' Janu took hold of his two rope handles, one over each shoulder. ''It''s a good spot. She won''t find trouble there.''

    Fraidun grunted and took up his own handles. The bag lifted off the ground and bobbed in the air between them. ''If it''s so good, she might not find it.''

    Janu rolled his eyes and adjusted his ropes so they settled right. ''I gave her clear directions. Have a little faith ¨C even you could find it!''

    Without waiting for Fraidun''s reply, Janu set off through the forest. After a slight tug on the rope, Fraidun followed behind and the tread of their feet soon set the bag swinging in a steady rhythm. Just a short walk to the river and they would be near enough in the clear. Even decades after his family had fled here, even after looping in circles to obscure their trail, even in the dark of a new moon, Janu could still find his way.

    ''Reckon they''ll go to war over it?'' Fraidun asked after a while, his voice low.

    ''Hmm?'' Janu picked his way around a tangle of roots.

    ''The princes. Over the egg.''

    ''The princes are already at war.'' Janu had been a boy when the Kingdom of Avesh had split into three principalities ¨C three brothers constantly at each other¡¯s throats. It hadn''t been long before his family had chosen to leave.

    ''Pfft. Border skirmishes. You know what I mean. The prince here has a dragon. The Narathin prince hasn''t even got this egg yet, let alone hatched or bound it.''

    Raising his gaze to the canopy-broken sky in case said dragon had returned, Janu said, ''The prince has one dragon that would be a pin cushion the moment it tried anything big. He wouldn''t risk it.''

    ''No one''s killed a dragon in years.''

    ''And?'' He rolled his eyes and adjusted the rope. He could just make out the lapping of the river now. Ahead, pale reeds glinted through gaps in the trees. ''No one''s ridden a dragon into battle in years. You can''t very well kill what isn''t there, can you?''

    Fraidun just grunted again. They came out from between two of the trees and craned their heads above the tall river reeds. The river stretched out like a ribbon of black glass, dappled with ripples and the reflections of stars.

    Of course, the only thing notably not disturbing its surface was a boat. Shit. This wasn''t the sheltered river bend he''d told Galnai to wait at.

    ''She''s not¨C''

    ''We''re not there yet.'' Janu glanced around, trying to pick out any landmarks to point him in the right direction. ''Here.'' He pointed towards a strand of willow downstream. The silvery underside of its leaves shimmered in the faint moonlight. ''It''s this way.''

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    They set off again, sticking to the edge of the reeds, weaving in and out of trees. Ten steps in, a distant shout broke the silence. Janu froze. The padded bag swung into his back before Fraidun could stop, almost knocking him over.

    Further down the river, the light of a torch reflected from its surface.

    They''re combing the river. Janu swore under his breath. ''Come on. We need to beat them to the boat.''

    Faster than before, not caring as much about the noise they made, they followed the course of the river. With any luck, the prince only had enough men out here to search well in one direction, and they would logically pick downstream. But they couldn''t afford to rely on luck. Instead, Janu kept his gaze fixed on the willows. Firelight flickered and danced in the background, out of focus.

    At last they reached the willows. Janu paused at the edge of their leaves, taking another good look at the soldiers'' torches. It was hard to tell whether they had drawn any closer or not. Satisfied that they weren''t an imminent threat, he drew aside the curtain of leaves and ducked into the small cave behind it. Total blackness swallowed him.

    ''Hug the wall,'' he told Fraidun. At this time of year, the river flooded most of the cave. One misplaced footstep and they would be waist deep.

    A dim light winked into existence a few feet away. Only when he blinked and squinted could he make out the planes of Galnai''s face beside her shaded lantern. Her eyes glinted from the shadows.

    ''Took your time,'' she said. ''They''ve been past here twice already.''

    Janu grimaced and shuffled closer on the ledge circling the water. ''That''s good. They''re less likely to come back this way. Give us a little more light, will you?''

    Galnai opened a couple more shutters on her lantern and more light spilled out towards the cave wall. It picked out the edges of the long fishing barge she sat in and made the grey streaks in her hair shimmer gold. It also made her scowl hard to miss.

    ''They''ve set a watch further down the river,'' she said. ''Doubt they''re planning to move on any time soon.''

    With a sigh, Janu stepped onto the boat and adjusted his grip on the rope so he was facing Fraidun. He motioned for the man to join him and said, ''One thing at a time. Get the barrel ready.'' But he was already thinking how they might slip past the guards.

    Galnai set into motion behind him and, as quiet as she worked, the wooden taps of her removing the barrel''s lid and placing it against the floor of the barge made him wince. While he waited, Janu eyed the bag containing the egg. Would it fit? Eggs hardly came in standard sizes, but this didn''t look like the biggest he had seen. Still hard to slip past guards without a good disguise... but maybe that could work in their favour?

    ''Here,'' said Galnai, placing the barrel beside them. She had to stoop to move in here.

    Fraidun went to lift the egg again, but Janu shook his head. ''We should take it out of the bag.''

    ''Now?'' Fraidun pursed his thin lips and gestured at the barrel. ''How are we going to get it in there?''

    ''Carefully.'' He didn''t know how much damage a dragon egg could take ¨C and he didn''t care to find out. ''Let''s try it on its side. Keep the barrel steady.''

    As Galnai tipped and sat astride the barrel, Janu and Fraidun unwrapped the layers of bag and blanket swaddling the egg. Opalescent flecks in its dull brown shell caught the lanternlight. Judging it against the size of the barrel, he reckoned it should fit with room to spare. So he gave a nod and took as good a grip on its smooth shell as he could get. With Fraidun''s help, he turned it sideways and lifted it to clear the lip of the barrel, grunting at how much heavier it felt to hold like this. It scraped across the inside of the barrel as they shoved it to the bottom. Janu prayed the guards hadn''t come any closer.

    ''Haul it up,'' he said.

    Galnai got off the barrel and tilted it back to standing with help from Janu and Fraidun. The egg struck the far side with a sharp clack. Grimacing, Galnai shoved her hand in to steady it before it could start rattling.

    She flicked her free hand at Fraidun. ''Get the fish.''

    Fraidun muttered something under his breath, but complied and fetched the other barrel. Before long, they had stuffed the sides and top of the barrel with fish and resealed the lid.

    ''Okay, boss,'' said Galnai when they were done. ''What''s the grand plan?''

    Wincing at the ache in his shoulders and back, Janu took a seat on the nearest bench. ''Well, we can''t move until morning anyway. No one''s out with a fishing barge at this hour. So I figure we just need to find a way to get the guards away before then.''

    ''As simple as that?''

    Janu grinned. ''Well, we''ve been for a nice walk in the woods. Now it''s your turn.'' He cast an eye over her broad frame. ''Do you think you can carry the other barrel?''

    She turned her head to regard it, lips twisted in a scowl, and brushed a strand of hair over the hole where her left ear should have been. After a moment she nodded.

    ''Can you carry it fast enough to keep clear of the guards?''

    ''For a while,'' she said. ''And you''ll owe me a new back for it.''

    ''I can''t work miracles, but with the money from this'' ¨C he went to rap his knuckles against the egg barrel, then thought better of it ¨C ''I can certainly shell out for a good massage.''

    Galnai shuddered at the thought. ''Keep your share. Just someone else is doing the lifting next time. Give me that, then.'' She gestured to the rope bag and Fraidun passed it to her. A few moments later she had tucked the empty barrel inside it and hoisted the whole bundle over her shoulder with a grunt.

    ''Wait for me,'' she said, as if it needed saying. ''I''ll give this lot the runaround and be back by morning when I''ve lost them.''

    Janu nodded, but Fraidun asked, ''And if you don''t come back?''

    Galnai blinked her wide, hard eyes. ''I''ve not got my money yet. I''m coming back.''

    <hr>

    The two men took turns napping during Galnai''s absence. The steady noise of the river lulled Janu off to sleep as soundly as a feather bed, but Fraidun tossed and turned and muttered under his breath when it was his turn. Janu cast him periodic glances from where he sat facing downriver through a slight gap in the leaves, a corner of his lips twitching into a smile with each utterance. Fraidun had never slept well in all their years of thieving ¨C it went some way to explaining his dour attitude. But only some.

    At one point, when the first traces of sunlight had just begun to limn the world around them, a commotion erupted in the distance. They both lay stock still, listening to the hunting horns and shouts, wondering if Galnai had made it any distance at all. At length the sound ebbed and faded with neither of them the wiser. They settled back into their rhythm. Sleep came harder this time.

    By the time dawn truly came, a spring chill had seeped from the water through their keel and settled into Janu''s bones. Birdsong leapt from the trees and reeds in every direction, muted by the roof of their cave. A fine layer of sparkling dew covered every surface.

    Something bounded across the roof.

    Janu reached beneath his damp cloak and unsheathed his dagger. Fraidun did likewise and stepped out of the boat, pressing his back against the wall, gaze trained on the way they had come in.

    A hand reached through the leafy curtain and pushed it aside, revealing Galnai''s sweat-drenched face.

    ''Well?'' she said, panting and eyeing their two daggers. ''We''ve not got all day. Let''s get downriver and hope the prince doesn''t try to dock payment for his dragon stinking of fish.''

 2. Princes With Deep Pockets

    It took the best part of a day for them to leave the Alaram Principality behind them, stopping periodically to cast nets and pose as fishermen, and reach the much shorter stretch of shore belonging to the Narathin Principality. Of course, as brother nations ruled by brothers, they could have hardly missed the border. A fresh skirmish had just taken place, and ragged Alaram and Narathin villagers sorted through the dead side by side.

    They moored up as agreed upon ¨C beside a jetty sporting the umbrella-like crimson Narathin standard. A nobleman sat in a chair in its shade, sipping from a glass, sunlight glinting from the facets of his scale coat. He did not stand when they approached, but motioned to his bare-chested aides to help.

    ¡®You have the egg, I trust?¡¯ he called down as the last rope was being tied.

    Janu rested a hand on top of the barrel. ¡®It¡¯s safe in here, sir.¡¯

    ¡®Bring it to shore, then.¡¯

    Galnai had abandoned the rope bag and spare barrel during her chase, so they had to take care when passing it up to the aides on the jetty, and even then they almost dropped it. Only then did the noble stand, his face dark. He escorted it off the jetty himself, the thieves following behind like a gaggle of wet ducklings. The moment it touched the floor, he pulled an axe from his belt, wedged its blade beneath the lid and levered it open.

    ¡®It...¡¯ Janu bit his lip to refrain from laughing at the way the noble¡¯s nose wrinkled. ¡®It¡¯s under the fish, sir. To get past the Alaram guards.¡¯

    The noble said nothing, just gestured to his aides again and waited for them to clear the top layer of fish while he wiped his axe blade clean.

    ¡®It¡¯s in good condition,¡¯ Janu explained when the noble was finally able to examine it. ¡®We had no trouble getting it away. No harm done to it. They didn¡¯t notice it was gone for quite a while.¡¯

    Satisfied, the noble nodded. ¡®Good work. And my congratulations on stirring up such a fuss ¨C the prince must be beside himself, and my prince will only be too pleased to imagine the look on his face. What a blow this will deal him!¡¯ He let out a breath and gave the egg a wistful look. ¡®I may only hope to be so lucky as to see it hatch. Another dragon born outside the empire¡¯s talons, and our prince at last able to match his brothers¡¯ companions.¡¯ Then he smiled and made a quick gesture with his free hand. ¡®Your payment.¡¯

    The two aides hurried to a small ox cart and Janu refrained from mentioning how long it would take this dragon to reach a useful size once hatched. He was being paid for acquisition, not advice. And paid generously ¨C he smiled at the size of the chest they took off the cart. The noble¡¯s horse snorted beside it, its white hide and mane decorated with red paint in the Narathin fashion. A few hundred yards distant, a large group of brightly clothed soldiers made preparations to leave and another group of aides chivvied along a larger ox cart, fully enclosed and decorated with bright reds and yellows. Even the oxen wore silk coats and tassels on their horns. Their egg would be meeting the prince in style.

    ¡®Where would you say the nearest town with a good inn is?¡¯ Janu asked. The noble¡¯s aides started back from the chest with a satisfyingly large and bulging collection of coin pouches.

    The noble pointed his axe east and nodded along its path. ¡®Tanaff is only an hour¡¯s walk in that direction. Follow the stream and you should reach it before nightfall.¡¯

    ¡®Thank you.¡¯ He hefted the pouches the aides had just handed to him. ¡®And thank your prince.¡¯

    <hr>

    Having attached the coin pouches to their belts in tight bundles that would jangle as little as possible, they set off east. The noble¡¯s train, bedecked in all its finery with the two ox carts ensconced between the most elite troops, angled away from them south-east, towards the capital Naratha. They soon vanished beyond the horizon, a last glittering speck of armour and spearheads beneath the setting sun.

    Vivid red bands of cloud hung over Tanaff when at last they reached it, reflecting in scattered patches in the rushing stream. Painted wooden and clay houses jostled for space around the minaret of the local temple.

    Janu breathed a sigh of relief. His feet ached like they wanted to split in the middle, his legs felt ten times their normal weight and his hips burned with the weight of the coins he carried. Not that he was complaining, of course, only he wished the prince had included the small cart as part of their payment. Their jobs didn¡¯t ordinarily involve boats, or he would have brought a mule or two. With any luck, Tanaff would have some for sale. He could resell them upon their return to Athon.

    As they trudged up to the town¡¯s outskirts, shouting and screams drew their attention. Fraidun became so alert his ears almost quivered, and he stalked off towards the noise before anyone could react.

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    After a moment¡¯s hesitation, Janu followed.

    ¡®Let¡¯s not get involved in something we can¡¯t handle,¡¯ he said, noting that Fraidun had begun to finger the beads of the prayer necklace he always wore.

    Fraidun scoffed. ¡®Can¡¯t tell if we can handle it until we see it.¡¯

    Behind him, Galnai muttered, ¡®And it can¡¯t see us,¡¯ but Fraidun either didn¡¯t hear or didn¡¯t care to respond.

    They entered into a small village that was only separated from the town proper by a thin stretch of farmland. Fraidun had picked up his pace ¨C as had the shouting ¨C and it was all Janu could do to keep up with him. The houses they passed had their doors and windows shuttered and barred. From time to time a nervous face peeked out from behind a curtain at them, but for the most part they passed with no sign of other humans. At this hour, Janu would expect the streets to be full of people wandering home for the night.

    The shouting grew louder as they neared the town square ¨C townspeople raising their voices in anger, a soldier or perhaps two barking orders. Somewhere, a child wailed.

    ¡®Fraidun, wait!¡¯ Damn, but that man never listened. This wasn¡¯t their country, these weren¡¯t their laws, this wasn¡¯t the comfortable bed waiting for them in a cosy inn.

    Rounding the corner revealed the full scene. Market stalls lined the square, but they were all abandoned, some of their produce scattered over the floor. A palanquin emblazoned with the imperial dragon rested by the well in the centre of the square. Janu¡¯s blood ran cold. He grabbed hold of Fraidun¡¯s arm. A robed imperial official stood before the palanquin, flanked by two spear-wielding guards in silk and close-fitting maille. He held his crozier of office in one hand and a gilded scroll case in the other.

    So these were their laws ¨C the same laws that applied to every country on these godsforsaken islands since the empire¡¯s foundation. And that made it the last thing they wanted to stumble into.

    The crying child struggled in the arms of a soldier to the left of the square, reaching out for their parents somewhere in the thick press of townsfolk on the right. One man with rolling eyes and a fresh head wound sat propped against the far wall, a cluster of people tending to him as they cast nervous glances the soldiers¡¯ way. The crowd seethed with barely supressed violence, even with a recent example of what noncompliance meant sat right beside them.

    ¡®There is no need for all this fuss,¡¯ the official said. His voice cut through the murmur of the crowd, clear and resonant like a trained actor. ¡®Your children are in safe hands and will be given the utmost care and attention, the finest food, new clothes and shoes. This is neither punishment nor imposition. This is simply a matter of education. Good education. The best in the empire. We have made this mandatory for your children''s¡¯ benefit. There is nothing to be feared in schooling.¡¯

    As he had been speaking, the voices in the crowd had grown louder and more indignant.

    ¡®You gonna teach him to make nails?¡¯ someone shouted. ¡®He was going to be my bloody apprentice. Who¡¯s going to help around the forge now?¡¯

    A woman said, ¡®He only has six years on him. Six! You can¡¯t be taking him from us now.¡¯

    The other townsfolk chimed in.

    ¡®Shouldn¡¯t be taking them from us at all!¡¯

    ¡®What¡¯ll you be teaching ¡®em, anyway? And you¡¯ll be sending ¡®em back all high and mighty and forgetting their roots, I¡¯ll bet.¡¯

    ¡®We¡¯ve our own schools. We don¡¯t need your dirty imperial ones!¡¯

    On the other side of the square, the child had been reduced to quiet sobbing, his whole weight leaning limply against the arm of the soldier who held him. About half a dozen other children were being held by the guards, and Janu scanned the square to see if he was missing any more. He could just make out some between the skirts and trousers of the crowd, in a tight, protective huddle. And now he looked, he realised the guards had blocked off the streets behind them. They couldn¡¯t escape.

    Fraidun tried to shake off Janu¡¯s arm, his face dark.

    ¡®There¡¯s nothing we can do,¡¯ Janu hissed. Were there guards at the entrance to their street, too? He hadn¡¯t seen any.

    ¡®That doesn¡¯t mean we shouldn¡¯t try.¡¯

    ¡®You¡¯d be mad to go in there.¡¯ A creeping horror put all Janu¡¯s senses on alert. His grip on Fraidun¡¯s arm was so tight that he could feel the strain in his finger bones. ¡®You see how many guards there are. And what do you have? A dagger, no more. Or perhaps you would like to take some bread from the floor and throw it at them, hmm?¡¯

    ¡®Then I¡¯ll go without you.¡¯

    Galnai piped up from behind them. ¡®I¡¯ll have your money first. There¡¯ll be a nice chunk left even after paying for your funeral.¡¯

    A hiss of breath slipped from Fraidun¡¯s lips. He kept his gaze fixed on the square, on the children, on the soldiers making their way towards the crowd.

    Then he turned to look at them over his shoulder. ¡®Have you ever seen them capture a hatchling?¡¯ Fraidun asked, his teeth bared. ¡®A wild one, not bonded.¡¯ He continued without waiting for a reply, without even drawing breath. His gaze drifted into the distance. ¡®Because I have. When a hatchling calls out for freedom, all dragons fly to aid it, kin or no, no matter the number of arrows nor spears levelled against them. That is the natural way. The noble way.¡¯

    Janu stood with his mouth agape for several seconds before saying, ¡®Then let the nobles handle it.¡¯ The words came tumbling out of his mouth. ¡®Or the town guards. We¡¯re on our way there anyway. We¡¯ll let the authorities know. They¡¯ll sort it out.¡¯

    ¡®Really? You think they¡¯d do anything at all?¡¯

    Not likely, but there was a limited pool of people Janu could save right now. The townsfolk and their children weren¡¯t in that pool. Fraidun and his pigheaded morality was its sole occupant.

    ¡®I think it¡¯s our best bet,¡¯ Janu said. ¡®Besides, the only reason the princes aren¡¯t still fighting the empire is because they hate each other more.¡¯ That, and their lack of dragons. ¡®Chances are they don¡¯t agree with whatever this new law is. They might put up more resistance than you think.¡¯

    A woman¡¯s wail cut across the square and Fraidun twitched, but his shoulders sagged and the fight went out of his eyes.

    ¡®Fine,¡¯ he said. ¡®Fine. We¡¯ll have it your way.¡¯ And with the shouts and sobs of the townsfolk still ringing out behind them, they turned to resume their journey into town.

 3. Stupid Proposals

    Whether the Tanaffi militia cared about the plight of their townsfolk or not, Janu couldn¡¯t tell. All that mattered was that they had passed on their news and got involved without following Fraidun¡¯s idea of involvement. And that they had finally been able to get to the inn, a good meal, and a good night¡¯s sleep.

    In the morning, Janu and Galnai went in search of a good mule and some sturdy panniers for the coins and any other supplies. Fraidun had stayed in his room, either making up for lost sleep or sulking about the fate of the village children. To Janu¡¯s dismay, they could only find a donkey with a passion for biting hands, but it was better than nothing. It seemed docile enough with Galnai, so he let her deal with it.

    They spent the rest of that day resting, once they had stocked up on supplies. Janu bought the greasiest pastry he could find from the street vendors and sat down overlooking the fountain at the bottom of the temple steps. A small group of children were playing in it, carefree and ignorant of the priest shouting and waving his cane from the top of the steps. Janu wondered when ¨C or if ¨C the empire would send its soldiers and officials here to find children to ''educate''. Or did they only pick on the ones fewer would notice? The rural and the poor. What would become of the ones they had taken today?

    There wasn''t anything he could have done about it. Janu told himself that, but it didn''t quell the uneasy feeling in his gut.

    Logically, the prince should care. Those boys would one day be of an age that they could be raised for military service. If the empire kept them past that age, the principality would lose out on good troops. They might never return, if they found good employment elsewhere in the empire, or if the empire forced them to serve in their own armies. Perhaps that was the point. Perhaps it was as simple as the empire wanting to drain the princes'' troops until the warring stopped. Perhaps.

    In any case, he didn''t get paid to ponder politics.

    The next day, Fraidun emerged from his room, but said little, and they departed via the northeast road. Journeying back to their home in Athon would have been a lengthy affair had it not been for the river than ran from near the Narathin border through the Principality of Avesh and the original kingdom''s capital. It took them four days to reach a part of the river wide enough for barges. Paying for passage on one ferried them near twice that distance in just over a day, and from there they had access to the great port on the Bay of Kolkus.

    Janu drank in the scent and sight of the sea. It felt like home ¨C not the home of his childhood, but home nonetheless.

    Another day and a half''s voyage saw them safely among the narrow shanties of Athon''s portside district. They took their time ambling up the winding streets towards the central district, marketplace hubbub becoming more akin to a roar with each step closer. Only when they had passed through the silk market and the flower market did they stop ¨C right beneath the sign of The Siren Tree Inn. The windows of its three storeys blazed with light and hummed with laughter, the shutters thrown wide to let in the cool evening air, making the most of spring before it turned to summer.

    As ever, they took a private room on the first floor and ordered the finest wine and sweets.

    It paid to be a dragon thief.

    ''¡ªshould have seen the look on his face,'' Fraidun was saying as he waited for Galnai to throw her dice. ''Thought it was a real egg, right up until the rest of his troop walked over and his commander told him it was a rock.''

    Galnai snorted, more at the result of her roll than the tale, and moved her counter around the board, taking out one of Fraidun''s pieces. ''I wish I could have seen the Alarams'' faces when they found out the barrel was empty.''

    Janu raised his cup. ''I''m still amazed you pulled it off.''

    She narrowed her eyes. ''It was your idea!''

    ''And it worked. How amazing am I?'' Janu grinned, then slapped his pile of coins ¨C weighted by the sale of the mule. ''So what are you spending yours on?''

    ''Food, drink.'' The words came out choppy in Galnai''s thick accent. ''Retirement fund. The usual.''

    Fraidun made a noncommittal noise and shrugged. With enough wine in him, he could be quite chatty, and even normally he spoke more than Galnai, but he never opened up on the subject of money. The way he doted on his prayer beads sometimes, perhaps he was the sort of pious to give it all away and live on a pittance. Janu had never found out.

    ''Well isn''t that all boring? So financially sensible. Where''s the fun in that?''

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    Fraidun conceded defeat, refilled his cup then raised his eyebrow at Janu. ''You can talk. Just funnelling it into your house fund each time.''

    ''One day the bastard''ll sell.''

    ''Sure he will. And one day the empress will sprout wings.''

    ''He''ll sell.'' Every man had a price. So what if his landlord''s kept going up? One day the offer would be too tempting. ''Maybe even this week.''

    Galnai stared at him, the hint of a smirk twisting her lips. ''Well, if you''re feeling that lucky, how about a game to finish up the night?''

    With a dramatic sigh, Janu checked how much wine they had left and acquiesced, wondering which would prove more fickle ¨C the dice or his landlord.

    <hr>

    By the time the wine in the shared pitcher ran out, night had fallen. Galnai and Fraidun went their separate ways not long after. Janu had further to go to get home, but he sat nursing his drink alone, listening to the muted chatter of the rest of the inn, pondering what the new day might break. After he bought the house out, what next? He wouldn''t have much left afterwards, so he would still need to do the odd heist or two, but he could certainly take it easier.

    He had just tilted back his cup to get to the dregs of the wine when someone knocked on the door. Startled, he swallowed half of it the wrong way.

    When he had finished spluttering, Janu asked, ''Who is it?''

    ''A client.'' It was a man''s voice, and he couldn''t place the accent. ''Or a potential client. The innkeeper said I could speak to one of you now.''

    Janu sighed. He would have to have words with the innkeeper. Words like ''business hours'' and ''waiting until it would be more likely one of them was sober''. Still, the woman was a valuable go-between. He couldn''t often fault her for it.

    ''Come in, then,'' he said, and readied his dagger in case of surprises.

    The door swung open and a tall man stepped in. His face explained his accent ¨C as pale as Galnai''s, with eyes as round and brown hair light enough that it passed for bronze in the lamplight. It haloed his head in a ring of curls. He sported a trimmed moustache and wore a wool cloak stamped with bright patterns.

    ''You''re from Khunuchan,'' Janu said.

    Smiling, the man hovered in the doorway for a moment before taking a seat and tucking his hands between his knees. ''We make finer distinctions than that, but yes, you have the right continent.''

    Galnai had never been more specific than Khunuchan, but then she had never told them anything of her past beyond that. As far as Janu was aware, it was all one country, ruled by one prince. Maybe it was another principality situation.

    ''We''ve never had clients from Khunuchan. You understand what we do, right?''

    ''You steal dragons.'' Now that the man was seated, his cloak had slipped open. He wasn''t wearing armour, only a yellow tunic and baggy trousers fastened at the calf with leg wraps, but he did have a dagger on his belt. Not too unusual, but not too comforting, either.

    ''Eggs, mostly.'' Janu realised he had been staring at the dagger and brought his gaze snapping back up. Damn that wine. ''We can do dragons, but they''re more of a pain to transport and harder to bond afterwards, if a bond doesn''t already exist.'' Breaking the bond meant killing the bonded human, and no one could pay him enough for that. ''And you would need to be well prepared to ship an egg from here to Khunuchan. You wouldn''t want it to hatch aboard ship. You would have to, ideally, seek out an egg you knew had been laid only recently. Even then that would be no guarantee. Your ships and sailors would need to be equipped to handle a hatchling.''

    The man had nodded along throughout Janu''s speech, but the moment he was done he shook his head. ''Don''t worry yourself. No one''s sailing anywhere. This isn''t a contract for anyone in Khunuchan.''

    ''Really?'' Judging by the man''s clothes, Janu had guessed he was quite well off, maybe even sent by the prince himself. Princes were all after dragons these days.

    The man shrugged. ''I''ve heard the empire''s already planned to ship a few eggs over soon. Some trade agreement. They don''t need anything stealing when they can go through official channels.''

    Janu had heard the same. ''So what is it?'' He didn''t need to know who it was for. He never asked. In rare cases like with the principality, he might be told anyway.

    ''It''s a hatchling we need you to steal. Or rather, it will have hatched by the time you come to steal it.''

    ''Can we not move sooner?''

    The man shook his head. ''The egg is being held for hatching in the fort at Kurentim, at the foot of the mountains. I doubt you would want to break in there. It''s heavily guarded, with two dragons on constant watch. Unless you are so exceptionally skilled that it defies belief, it''s best to snatch it away when they move the hatchling.''

    Janu had heard of Kurentim. Anyone in his line of work had. It was the first stop eggs made once the empire had taken them from their nests, their staging point for transporting them further. He had stolen many eggs coming from Kurentim ¨C and so he was partly the reason they had stopped moving them further. All imperial dragons hatched in that fort.

    ''That''s a fair reason,'' Janu said, ''and something we can do, for the right price. But we don''t kill people. If you want the bond broken, you''ll have to deal with that yourself.''

    This time the man smiled. ''It''s actually good you say that. We need the bond intact. We need both the dragon and the human.''

    ''Kidnap, then. What are you planning to do to them?'' The words came out a little snappier than Janu had intended, but the longer this conversation went on, the less he liked of it.

    The man shifted in his seat. ''We want to examine how the bond works.''

    ''Torture, then? Experimentation?''

    ''Nothing like that. Just a live human bonded to a live dragon. Both will be well taken care of.''

    Narrowing his eyes, Janu examined the man across from him. His face was quite readable compared to Galnai''s, but it could be a good ruse. If not, he didn''t appear to be lying. If they could examine the bond, that would be valuable ¨C no one had properly managed to replicate the empire''s process. The results of a weak bond could be messy, embarrassing and expensive.

    ''Do you even know who it''s being bonded to?'' Janu asked.

    A sheepish grimace passed over the man''s face. ''The youngest daughter of the empress. Princess Popilia Phoca.''

 4. The Work of Generations

    Janu burst out laughing. Every time he came close to stopping, he caught another look of the Khunuchanian¡¯s forlorn face and began anew. Perhaps it was the wine. Perhaps it was that his proposal was so damned absurd. Only when his sides hurt so much that his wine threatened to make a second appearance did he finally force himself to calm down and take a few deep breaths.

    ¡®I take it,¡¯ the man said, ¡®that that means no?¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m sorry.¡¯ Janu still couldn¡¯t keep a chuckle out of his voice. ¡®I value my hide too much to attempt to kidnap royalty. That alone would be too much, but a dragon as well?¡¯ He shook his head. ¡®You¡¯re out of your mind. If you want to study the bond so badly, pick any other dragon. Pick any other rider. Find some poor girl, dress her up as the princess and sneak her in in her place ¨C that would probably have a greater chance of success. But this path you have chosen? Madness. Pure madness.¡¯

    For a few moments the man sat stock still, and Janu worried he had deeply offended him. But then he inclined his head. ¡®My employer is set on this dragon, I¡¯m afraid.¡¯ A lump moved in his throat. Fear of his employer¡¯s wrath or sadness that he couldn¡¯t accomplish his mission? ¡®I understand the risks, though, and I can see why you wouldn¡¯t want to take this on. Can you recommend anyone who will?¡¯

    ¡®No one is that mad,¡¯ he said, shaking his head. Then he corrected himself. ¡®No one halfway competent is that mad. If your employer is so set on it, they can send their own people. I look forward to hearing about their spectacular failure.¡¯

    ¡®It would be quite spectacular indeed.¡¯ The man¡¯s voice had a dark edge to it. Janu stiffened, but when he rose, he did so with his hands far from his dagger and his shoulders hunched. ¡®If you do change your mind, please let the innkeeper know. She knows how to contact me.¡¯

    ¡®Don¡¯t wait on it.¡¯

    The man paused by the door, opened his mouth as if to say something, then thought better of it and left. Janu listened to his footsteps receding, the buzz of good wine and laughter fogging his mind, the scale of what he had just been asked to do striking a bizarre point of clarity into it.

    Shaking his head, he gathered up his belongings and wandered downstairs, wishing the innkeeper goodnight as he handed back the cups.

    Tonight was a good night. When he stepped outside, a cool, fresh breeze ruffled his hair and he strolled through the dark streets towards his house in the masons¡¯ quarter. Candlelight flickered here and there through the shutters of a window, and the stars shone bright above him. He wished he had arrived earlier in the day, when the markets were still trading, so he could have bought gifts for his nieces and nephews. He had only picked up a few sweets in Avesh. With any luck it would tide them over for a while.

    He smiled when he rounded the corner onto his street. There was his familiar house, its three hand-painted storeys. He had painted much of the ground-floor walls himself as a child, and the charm of the memory almost made up for his shoddy artwork.

    Then his smile faded.

    ¡®Janu!¡¯ A shape detached from the shadows around the walls and his sister ran up to him, her skirts gathered in her hands, her sandals slapping against the cobbles. She rushed into his arms and squeezed him tight, then drew back. Tears glistened on her cheeks, but her face was tight with anger. When she spoke again, her voice was hoarse and scratchy.

    ¡®I argued with him all I could,¡¯ she said. ¡®He would hear nothing of it.¡¯

    Janu took hold of her shoulders, frowning. ¡®Nothing of what? What happened?¡¯

    ¡®The landlord¡¯ ¨C she drew a deep, shuddering breath ¨C ¡®has thrown us out.¡¯

    Rage boiled along his arms and into his heart, as if transferring from his sister¡¯s body to his. He peered into the shadows behind her, making out the taller form of her husband and four smaller shapes that must have been his nieces and nephews clustered around his legs.

    ¡®Why?¡¯

    She inclined her head, twisting her lips. ¡®So that his brother can move in. They move a family out for that, hey? What eunuchs. We had no warning. We have taken what we can, but we have nowhere to go.¡¯

    Janu fixed his rage on the light shining through the shutters. ¡®He¡¯s in there now?¡¯

    ¡®Both of them.¡¯ She nodded.

    Pulling a good handful of coins from one of his pouches, Janu pressed them into her hands and said, ¡®Take your husband and children to The Siren Tree Inn in the central district. Tell them I sent you, and book a good room for you all for the night. Save the rest of the money in case you need it.¡¯

    ¡®He still has most of our furniture. Our food. We took what we could, but¡ª¡¯

    ¡®The food is replaceable.¡¯ He squinted again at the shadows, trying to work out if that haphazard stack of shapes was the furniture they could scrounge. He thought he saw the flick of a mule¡¯s ear. ¡®Take whatever you have with you. If it won¡¯t fit in the room, the innkeeper might be willing to store them in the basement for now. Now go. Let me deal with that bastard.¡¯

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡®Be careful, Jun-Jun. Do not push him too far.¡¯

    Without another word, he patted her shoulder and stalked towards his house. His dagger burned at his hip. When laughter spilled from one of the upstairs windows, his hand flew to the hilt. He itched to draw it. Instead, as he drew near to the entrance and the concerned face of his brother-in-law, he detached the dagger in its sheath from his belt and passed it over.

    His brother-in-law eyed the dagger, then shrugged. ¡®You can still beat the shit out of him if you need to.¡¯

    Janu slipped through the door. A few scattered pieces of furniture remained in the entrance hall ¨C there the bench his father had carved, there the rug his mother had woven and sworn over when she got the pattern wrong, there the tiled floor that he had laid by hand, piece by coloured piece. The door to the courtyard stood open, and the garden his grandmother had planted and nurtured in her final years waved at him in the grip of the wind.

    Floorboards creaked above him. He made for the stairs. Outside, the clatter of hooves and iron-shod cart wheels heralded his family¡¯s departure. Whether prompted by this or something else, glasses clinked. Janu wished he had the height of the man from Khunuchan, or Galnai ¨C she actually had more muscle on her. Gods, maybe he should have fetched Galnai and Fraidun for this. But no, he had to be diplomatic here. He would only get his house back within the lines of the law.

    On reaching the top of the stairs he found his landlord and a younger man sat at the living-room table ¨C a piece his father and grandfather had worked on together. He blinked until the rage abided and his eyes could focus, by which time both men had their attention on him.

    ¡®Mister Mannit,¡¯ his landlord began with a half-smile resting on his face that Janu would have loved to punch off. ¡®I understand you have been away for business. You must not be caught up with¡ª¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯ve been caught up.¡¯

    After a pause, his landlord spread his hands. ¡®Then I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t quite understand what you¡¯re doing here.¡¯

    ¡®Nor I you,¡¯ Janu said. ¡®Per the terms of our tenancy, and per the law in this quarter, I require a month¡¯s notice and the opportunity to buy the property upon termination of contract. I have received neither of these, and yet my family is on the street.¡¯

    ¡®Oh.¡¯ Both the landlord and his son chuckled, and it was all Janu could do not to lunge for his throat. ¡®Oh dear, then I¡¯m afraid you haven¡¯t entirely caught up on new developments. The empire issued an edict last week that limits those laws to tenants who are also Harat-Lavician citizens. As an Aveshi, that rules you out.¡¯

    A hot lump rose in Janu¡¯s throat. ¡®The children were born here.¡¯

    ¡®To parents who were themselves not citizens, yes. If the location of one¡¯s birth determined one¡¯s citizenship, every man in the empire would be rolling his wife over the border to push out wailing infants. Besides which, is the contract in the children¡¯s name? No. It is in yours.¡¯

    ¡®But I¡¯m an imperial citizen, the same as you.¡¯

    The man¡¯s smile soured. ¡®We are not the same, and the empire¡¯s reluctant outer kingdoms are not equal to its core provinces. In all your time here, you would only need have done some service to Harat to be granted full citizenship. Your failure to do this simple act is your own problem.¡¯

    Janu could have thrown up in that moment. His insides churned like a hive of angry bees. It¡¯s not fair, the voice from his childhood came back to him ¨C the small voice made quieter by war and change after change, day after day. It¡¯s not fair. Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes. He forced them to go to further.

    ¡®I have the money,¡¯ Janu said. ¡®I can buy it off you, right now.¡¯

    ¡®You didn¡¯t have enough last time.¡¯

    ¡®I have enough now.¡¯

    ¡®And yet I forget,¡¯ said the landlord. ¡®Non-citizens can no longer own property. Per the edict, you see.¡¯

    Silence stretched between them for a few long moments. By the pain in his fingertips, Janu realised he had curled his hands into tight fists. He made a conscious effort to loosen them.

    ¡®How much would I have to pay for you to overlook that?¡¯ he asked. It was a stupid move. His landlord could very well take the bribe and report him to the empire the next day, if they even managed to get the paperwork through. Maybe he could forge citizenship. Maybe he could bribe an official. There had to be something.

    His landlord placed a hand on his breast, though the bitter smile never left his face. ¡®I admire your commitment. But this isn¡¯t a matter of payment, you see?¡¯ He placed a hand on the other man¡¯s shoulder. ¡®My son is getting married next week. He needs a place to live.¡¯

    And his father owned some dozen houses, but of course his son needed this one. ¡®How much would it cost for him to buy a house that my family hasn¡¯t already lived in for three generations? A nice new one.¡¯

    The man leaned back and regarded Janu. An appraising light flickered behind his eyes ¨C a look that Janu recognised all too well. The look of a man working out how much money he could make from a situation.

    ¡®Well, my son,¡¯ he said, though he didn¡¯t turn to look at him. ¡®I have seen some rather lovely new villas in the palace quarter...¡¯

    Janu¡¯s heart thudded in his chest. He didn¡¯t care what it cost, so long as he got the house back. ¡®How much?¡¯

    ¡®About fifty bezin, from what I have heard. Do you have that much to hand?¡¯

    Fifty bezin, the highest unit of currency in the empire. It was over half a government official¡¯s salary, over twice the price his landlord had last given him, and would swallow the entirety of his life savings without quite being enough. He did some mental arithmetic with his latest payment. Ten bezin short. Two more jobs and he would have it, but their jobs came so infrequently that that could take two or more years.

    Janu spoke slowly, not quite trusting his tongue. ¡®I can give you forty now. If you add the additional ten to buy the home, treat that as a loan to me. I¡¯ll pay it back, I swear on the bones of this house. Treat this place as collateral.¡¯

    His landlord rapped his fingers against the table, considering the offer. Janu wanted to haul him across it and yell at him to stop touching his family¡¯s furniture.

    At last he said, ¡®Very well. Your family can move back in. I will accept loan payments in lieu of your usual rent and consider the house yours when it is fully paid. However¡¯ ¨C he raised a finger ¨C ¡®don¡¯t consider me overgenerous. I won¡¯t wait forever to have back what is mine. You have one year. If you haven¡¯t paid the full ten bezin of your loan by then, this house is mine.¡¯

    Shit. But what else was there for it? ¡®I accept.¡¯

 5. Visitations

    Janu sat in the dim candlelight of the living room once the two men had left, staring into space. He honestly hadn''t expected them to leave, but they had ¨C after Janu had found and handed to them every last coin of his savings, and they had sat there counting it for the best part of an hour.

    One year. One year to pay back more than most people''s salary, not to mention keeping himself fed. If he saved all of it, no doubt he could live off his sister and her husband''s earnings, but that would make for a hard year. He and his sister had survived worse. The children, though... It wasn''t fair on them. So he needed a job. A job that would pay as much as possible, as soon as possible.

    The only available job that ticked those boxes involved kidnapping a gods-damned princess.

    Drawing a hand over his face, he found his gaze drifting to the outside wall, where a small tiled alcove held the idol of his family god, Tikkinik. It had followed him through the war in Avesh and all that happened after to this place. They had built that alcove themselves, as with most things in this house. Some distant relative had carved the idol itself. More tree than man, its twisted limbs reflected dull patches of candlelight. The branches growing from its bare skull seemed to writhe. The chipped gem it held in one hand to represent a siren fruit had seen better days, but its other hand warned away from it nonetheless.

    Janu wandered over and placed one of the sweets he had bought in the bowl at its feet. ''You''ve seen us through our other messes. I hope this isn''t a mess too far.''

    Then he blew out the candles, left the house and locked it behind him. Unwilling to leave it unattended so long, he rushed back to the central district. By the time he reached The Siren Tree Inn, his family had already settled down in a large room on the top floor. When he knocked, his brother-in-law answered. From the haggard look of his face, Janu might have guessed he hadn''t slept for days.

    ''Uncle Jun-Jun?'' His youngest niece spotted him in the gap between her father and the door. His sister had been tucking her into bed, but the child leapt up with a grin on her face and tried to wriggle free.

    ''Not now, Patha,'' his sister said.

    His brother-in-law stepped into the corridor and pulled the door to behind him.

    ''Any luck?'' he asked.

    ''Yes.'' Janu didn''t elaborate. ''The house is ours. But I think it''s best the children stay here for the night. You should go to the house. If you can stay awake, do that, and keep an eye on it. I don''t know if they''ll try anything.'' For fifty bezin, he hoped not.

    The man let out a sigh of relief. ''What about you?''

    ''I''d keep watch, but there are a few more things I need to do. Paperwork, things like that. I''ll need to go out on another job for a while, too. It ate up all my savings.''

    ''If there''s anything I can¡ª''

    ''No, no need. Just look after the little ones, will you? And here, give them these from their Uncle Jun-Jun.'' Janu passed him the bag of sweets.

    With a smile, his brother-in-law disappeared back into the room and Janu left without another word. Perhaps he should have waited until morning, but he knew he wouldn''t be able to sleep. Instead he let his feet lead him to Galnai''s apartment further into the central district. He took the stairs as quietly as he could, taking care not to trip over the drunk man sleeping between floors, and knocked on her door.

    Seconds stretched by. He definitely should have waited until morning. Just as he was turning to leave, though, footsteps approached and the door slid open a crack.

    ''Janu?'' Galnai muttered a few strong Khunuchanian words that were almost certainly expletives. ''The hells are you doing here? You know what time it is?''

    ''I... Yes, sorry.'' He hooked his thumbs into his belt to quash his urge to fidget. ''It''s been a bit of a night.''

    ''What happened?''

    Janu hesitated, then gestured at her room. ''Can I?''

    After a few awkward seconds when Galnai seemed to consider throwing him down the steps, she let him in. She kicked a stool across the room for him, settled down on her haunches at the other side, and listened to his account of the events with his landlord.

    By the end, she was shaking her head. ''For fifty bezin you could have bought yourself citizenship and a new house.''

    ''Not with this new edict.''

    ''Assuming he didn''t just make that up.''

    Janu thought back to the empire rounding up those children in Tanaff. ''I don''t think he did.''

    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ''Hmm.''

    Sighing, he tapped his feet against the floor and toyed with a point of his moustache. ''Look, the thing is that I need a big payday and I need one soon. And it just so happens a new client came to me last night... tonight, after you and Fraidun left.''

    Galnai''s expression remained unchanged. ''You won''t get ten bezin out of it, unless they''re after two eggs. Or unless you shaft us out of our shares, but you wouldn''t do that, would you?''

    She worded it as a threat, and for a moment Janu was too insulted to reply.

    ''Of course I wouldn''t!'' he snapped. ''If I were that desperate, I would go it alone, but I''m not that stupid either. No, I just suspect they''ll pay more.''

    ''You suspect? You didn''t get details?''

    ''I laughed him out of the room before he could elaborate.''

    Galnai narrowed her eyes.

    ''It''s a joint job. Steal the hatchling, kidnap the bonded human. All en-route from the fort in Kurentim. We''d already charge a good deal for that.'' He curled his toes, then continued, ''The kicker is that the bonded human is a princess.''

    Galnai''s glare could have cut iron. ''Yes, I can see why you laughed.''

    ''Yes,'' he said, wilting a little. ''Only it''s now the only chance I have to keep my home. I''m sure it''ll pay enough. I''m not asking you anything. I''m not after a loan or a bigger share. It''s just another job, with a little more risk than usual.''

    ''A lot more.''

    ''And reward commensurate with it.''

    ''You buy some bigger words with all those bezin?'' She raised an eyebrow, then shook her head. ''Look, I don''t think you''ve thought this through enough. Those ten bezin aren''t going to buy your house back. The forty you''ve already paid are down the drain. Your landlord never wanted to sell to you. You offered so many times, far more than that place is worth. Now he''s just found a way to get a cheap new house out of you and keep hold of yours. He''s tricked you. Again.''

    Janu reached into a pocket and took out the receipt his landlord had written once he had finished counting out the coins. ''I have it in writing. Look.''

    ''You people treat the written word as if it''s holy scripture,'' she muttered as she squinted, struggling to read. It took her a while. She had never been well literate to begin with, and this wasn''t her native tongue.

    When she had done, she folded it up and handed it back to him. ''So perhaps he is genuine, if you choose to believe the paper.''

    ''Think of it, Galnai. It doesn''t just benefit me. You''d finally have enough to leave this place.''

    She snorted. ''I have more than I need to leave here.''

    ''Then why don''t you?'' Janu had assumed she either drank or gambled it all away, or her rent was simply extortionate.

    Eyeing him sidelong, she said, ''Because when I do, it''ll be to retire somewhere a non-citizen can own property. A little cottage in the middle of nowhere, all to myself.''

    ''That''s it?''

    She nodded.

    ''Surely you can afford that already?''

    ''I can.'' Her eyebrows took on an affronted tilt. ''Just figured you two still needed me around.''

    Janu blinked stupidly at her for a few moments. ''We do, but... Well, this job should give us enough that we can all retire. How about you make it your last one? No more tripping over drunks on the way home. You could even buy a new stool.''

    ''One stool, no guests.'' She smiled. ''I do like the sound of that.''

    <hr>

    Leaving Galnai to finish her night''s sleep, Janu went in search of Fraidun''s apartment. He had only been there once before on a stumbling, winding route. Fraidun was a loud and angry drunk, and Janu had once had to haul him home, alternating between quizzing the man for directions and covering his mouth so he didn''t scream insults about the royal family through the streets. He hadn''t let him drink that much since, and that was a few years ago now.

    As it turned out, he didn''t need to remember, although he would have preferred finding Fraidun at home. Instead he heard his voice coming from an alley as he passed. Janu stopped and peered down it.

    At the far end of the alley, Fraidun stood haggling with a flushed prostitute in a state of undress. Each moment her face grew more flushed, and she drew herself taller. Eventually she snapped, drew her arm back and gave Fraidun such a resounding slap that Janu worried it would take his head clean off. He staggered to one side, reeling. The prostitute gathered her skirts, pulled her top back over one bared breast, and stormed off down a side alley.

    Janu stroked his beard, face set in a grimace. Fraidun surely wouldn''t appreciate him barging in now. His trousers weren''t even fastened. But Fraidun noticed him before he could decide what to do, fumbled to fasten his trousers without much success, then staggered up the alley towards him. His ordinarily golden skin was rosy, his long brown hair plastered to his scalp with... sweat, Janu hoped. Though he smelled like a brewery even from here, so perhaps he wore his drink.

    Not that it was any of Janu''s business, but how many times had he seen the man off home with his wits still about him only to end up in some alley like this?

    Gods, he had better not start shouting nonsense.

    ''Jaaanu!'' said Fraidun, spreading his arms wide. ''Fanss... seein'' you here.''

    ''Fraidun. Had a good night?''

    ''The bessss.'' He slapped an arm around Janu''s shoulders and drew him close, not noticing when Janu gagged at the stench. He waved his free hand in the air. ''Almos'' the besstes. Buh she... she charge for the bess. Too much. S''too much.''

    ''I''m sure it was.'' Janu sighed. ''Come on, let''s get you home. We''ve got a new job to look at.''

    ''Already? Gives us de... det... Gives us what''s it.''

    ''Not now. I''ll give you the details when you''ve sobered up.''

    A tic flashed through the muscle beneath Fraidun''s eye. Knowing that wasn''t a good sign, Janu hurriedly added, ''It pays. A lot,'' and hoped that would satisfy him.

    Either it did the trick or Fraidun had simply reached the sleepy stage of drunkenness, but they managed to make it back to his apartment without further incident. His was a rickety wooden construction right on the edge of the central district, nearer to the docks. Pigs snorted in their sleep in the small yard and a raggedy cat with one eye glared at them on their way up the stairs. It took a while to rummage through all of Fraidun''s pockets for his key, but they got into his room eventually.

    Once Janu had manhandled Fraidun onto his sleeping pallet, he pondered his next move. If this were a better part of town he might have stayed the night here and spoken to Fraidun in the morning. As it was, he valued his life, his teeth, the clothes on his back... So he quietly lifted the latch and slipped out, back towards The Siren Tree Inn. In the morning, he would take some of the money he had lent his sister and pay a runner to fetch Fraidun.

    Then he would get the fun of judging from Fraidun''s mood whether the wake-up call had involved a bucket of water or not.

 6. The Man from Khunuchan

    Morning announced itself with the usual chorus of bells and horn calls from Athon¡¯s many temples, and the gradual accumulation of footsteps and chatter in the streets outside. The birds, long awake themselves, had their music and conversation drowned out in a few short moments. Only the starlings nesting in the eaves of the inn broke through, loud enough that Janu had been awake just as long as they had.

    He had already paid and sent the runner. Now he sat and waited with a hot breakfast of fried flatbread and tea in their usual room, wondering in the clarity of morning what other high-paying job he might find himself if his crew wouldn¡¯t agree to this one. If only his skillset were wider, he could have tried ordinary thievery. It couldn¡¯t be too hard, could it? Gold and jewels were smaller than dragons and their eggs, after all, and the punishment for stealing it far kinder. Galnai had lost her ear for stealing a dragon in Khunuchan. If she had done the same here, it would have been her head ¨C likely after a good deal of torture.

    Janu shuddered, not as keen on his food as he had been a moment before. Perhaps that was the reason the man from Khunuchan was bold enough to ask so much of them. He didn¡¯t realise the full extent of their potential punishment.

    As he was finishing off the last bites of his meal, Galnai arrived. She gave the room a once-over before flopping down on a cushion.

    ¡®You won¡¯t see Fraidun any time soon if he went out spending his money last night,¡¯ she said.

    Janu nodded and finished chewing. ¡®Oh, he was all right. I bumped into him last night and took him back home. A runner should be fetching him right now. So does he do that often?¡¯

    She snorted. ¡®Every night after a job until his money¡¯s gone.¡¯

    ¡®Really?¡¯ He didn¡¯t know what had made him assume Fraidun was more financially responsible than that, but he had clearly been wrong.

    ¡®Have you set a time to meet with our contact?¡¯ Galnai asked.

    Janu shook his head. ¡®I assume he¡¯s staying close by. Maybe even in the inn. He said to ask the innkeeper for him if I changed my mind.¡¯

    ¡®Right then. I hope you¡¯re right, or we¡¯re in for a long wait.¡¯

    The wait that felt longest was the wait for Fraidun, who appeared an hour later with his hair still dripping onto the floorboards and his face still muggy from drinking. Janu asked the innkeeper to bring the man from Khunuchan in no less than an hour, then took Fraidun straight to the nearest baths to wash the smell and hangover from him. A near fruitless task, but a generous application of scented oil masked the worst of it and he looked more alive afterwards. If only they had had time to wash his clothes, or fetch whatever spare ones he might have owned back in his rooms. These were different to last night¡¯s clothes, but they still stank.

    They waited for their contact in silence, back at the inn. Janu saw no point in explaining more of the situation to Fraidun. He doubted a man in his financial situation would balk at such a high-paying gig, no matter the risk. He didn¡¯t particularly fancy having to point out the higher class of prostitute he would be able to afford ¨C or give the man false hope that they would even entertain an offer from him to begin with. What lasting good could money buy a man with no taste nor ambition?

    Exactly an hour after his message to the innkeeper, a knock came on the door and Janu bade the man from Khunuchan enter. He did so, warier than the first time with two more people to greet him. His wide-eyed gaze lingered on Galnai. Janu couldn¡¯t tell if it was thanks to her ear hole or if he had some objection to a woman being present. Galnai, for her part, stared back, her face even paler than usual. When Janu cleared his throat, they broke eye contact. Galnai brushed a strand of hair over her missing ear.

    ¡®I¡¯m glad you changed your mind,¡¯ the man said. ¡®My employer truly is set on this happening.¡¯

    ¡®Apparently so,¡¯ said Janu. ¡®And we¡¯ve agreed to give it more consideration. But before we get into specifics, we should talk payment.¡¯

    ¡®Name your price.¡¯

    Preparing himself to haggle, Janu said, ¡®Ordinarily we charge fifteen bezin for egg theft, twenty-five for dragon theft. We haven¡¯t been asked to kidnap anyone before ¨C those dragons were all either hatched before anyone was ready to bond them, or their bonded had already died. With that thrown into the mix, you¡¯re looking at thirty-five bezin.

    ¡®But you¡¯re asking us to kidnap royalty straight from under the empire¡¯s nose.¡¯ Fraidun shifted in his seat, but Janu continued. ¡®Ignoring the extra risk for a moment, we¡¯ll likely need to spend money to go into hiding afterwards. Bribe money, travel money, funds for new lodgings until things quiet down. That pushes it up to fifty. We¡¯ll need half up front as insurance for our families.¡¯ Not that Galnai or Fraidun had any family that he knew of.

    The man didn¡¯t even blink. He just nodded as if fifty bezin was small change. ¡®My employer can provide that.¡¯

    I should have asked for double. In disbelief, Janu asked, ¡®You are aware of the value of a bezin, right? You¡¯re not thinking of it like some Khunuchanian coin?¡¯

    His gaze flicked to Galnai and back. ¡®No. My employers just have deep pockets and little need for money.¡¯

    ¡®Well.¡¯ Janu leaned back in his seat. ¡®Must be nice being them. So that¡¯s settled. Fifty bezin.¡¯ Near enough fifteen each after expenses. ¡®So tell us what we need to know. So far you¡¯ve told me they¡¯re transporting the hatchling from Kurentim to Chorus after the bonding ceremony. What else do you know? Actually¡¯ ¨C Janu held up a hand ¨C ¡®before anything else, what can I call you?¡¯This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    That little flicker again. Why did he keep looking at Galnai?

    ¡®Ilarion,¡¯ he said, and while he nodded politely through Janu¡¯s introduction of the others, he was obviously distracted. He threw himself into the details as soon as Janu was done.

    ¡®I have it on good information,¡¯ Ilarion said, ¡®that the ceremony will be taking place on a Wednesday six weeks from now. No other members of the royal family will be in attendance. I expect they¡¯ll wait somewhere between a day and a week for the bond to settle before they travel back to Chorus.¡¯

    At this point he drew a leather-wrapped scroll from under his cloak and knelt on the floor so he could unroll it on the table. Galnai stiffened at his proximity, but he didn¡¯t notice, too absorbed in his work. Janu gave her a concerned glance, but leaned over to examine the map when he got no response.

    The map held little detail of towns and villages, but its coastlines, roads and terrain were the most detailed Janu had ever seen. He had only seen one continental map before. Most other maps he had seen were task-specific affairs: rough sketches of routes from one place to another, local maps of the boundaries between different towns. Was this a new creation? I showed only one of the empire¡¯s two islands: Zentilum, where the capital city of Chorus lay.

    ¡®There is a ravine the ceremony participants must travel though,¡¯ Ilarion said, pointing to a spot north of Kurentim. ¡®I recommend lying in wait at this location.¡¯

    Janu made a noncommittal noise. It was further into the mountains than he would have liked, but the only other good spots along that route were spots he had used before, and no doubt the empire would be extra cautious travelling through them even today.

    Out loud he said, ¡®We¡¯ll be hard pressed to get out of there without anyone catching us.

    Ilarion shook his head. ¡®There¡¯s a small goat path up the side of the ravine. You can enter and leave that way.¡¯

    ¡®Even then, by the time we¡¯ve finished hauling the goods up it, we¡¯ll have lost a lot of time. Even if we can get away without being noticed, which is possible, they¡¯ll have ample opportunity to catch up to us. They¡¯ll send word ahead to all the towns and villages to watch for us.¡¯

    ¡®Oh, you won¡¯t need to worry about that. You¡¯re going the other way.¡¯ Ilarion jabbed at a spot further into the mountain range ¨C further than even Zentilum. ¡®This is where I¡¯ll be waiting for you. You can hand everything over to me there and be on your way. If they don¡¯t see you leave, and you don¡¯t leave obvious tracks, they won¡¯t think to look that way.¡¯

    Fraidun huffed out an alcohol-scented breath. ¡®Long way.¡¯

    Janu realised he was tapping his foot against the floor and forced himself to stop. He looked Ilarion in the eyes. ¡®So let me get this straight: You want us to kidnap both a live dragon and a member of royalty from under the noses of imperial soldiers. Then you want us to haul both of those as fast as possible into the biggest, most desolate mountain range in the empire without getting caught or lost.¡¯

    ¡®Yes.¡¯ A flicker of mirth danced in Ilarion¡¯s unsmiling eyes. ¡®And I¡¯m paying you fifty bezin for it.¡¯

    No one spoke for some time. Ilarion, meanwhile, pulled another map from beneath his cloak. This one was more like the maps Janu was familiar with ¨C lines, distances, and landmarks.

    ¡®I¡¯ve mapped out the route you¡¯ll need to take from the ravine to our meeting point. As long as you take the right turns, you can¡¯t miss it. It¡¯s an old ruin, very old, more like a pile of boulders than anything else. You¡¯ll see it right at the centre of that valley.¡¯

    Janu eyed the spot he was pointing at, marked with a decent sketch of the very structure he had just described. ¡®Is it sheltered?¡¯

    ¡®There¡¯s no roof, but the sides make good shelter from the wind. If you set up a tent there and as long as no one has followed you, it¡¯s a good place to spend the night.¡¯

    A chuckle drew everyone¡¯s attention to Fraidun, who sat there shaking his head. ¡®What possessed you to wait for us right in the middle of dragon territory? You got a brain in there?¡¯

    Janu kicked his ankle and Fraidun shot back a glare.

    Ilarion struggled with his words for a few moments before saying, ¡®It¡¯s easier for my client, this way. Trust me, the dragons won¡¯t pose a problem. It may be deep into the mountains for you, but it¡¯s outside their usual range.¡¯ He gave a sardonic smile. ¡®For obvious reasons they don¡¯t like straying too close to humans these days.¡¯

    The only client who would find that easier was the kingdom on the other side of the mountains. Janu had already stolen a couple of eggs for them. Either they wanted more, something had happened to their existing dragons, or this was really all a cover for kidnapping the princess. The thought just made him exhausted. He focussed on the end goal: fifty bezin. Fifteen bezin all to himself, five when he had paid off his loan.

    Nerves started to kick in, then ¨C acid shivers of apprehension that threatened to weave their way into his voice. ¡®Do you have any information about how many guards she¡¯ll have?¡¯

    ¡®Our spies observed them on the way to the fort three days ago. There were about twenty guards and one carriage with its driver.¡¯

    ¡®Mounted or on foot?¡¯

    ¡®All mounted.¡¯

    That wouldn¡¯t make it easier for them to get away, although if their pursuers wanted to stay mounted, they wouldn¡¯t be able to follow them up the goat path. Janu owned horses, but they weren¡¯t the fastest. They would have to do, though.

    ¡®Is there anything else you need?¡¯ Ilarion asked.

    ¡®No,¡¯ Janu said. He looked at the other two in turn, but neither had anything to add. ¡®Are we agreed, then? We¡¯ll take this on?¡¯

    Galnai gave the slightest nod but nothing more. Ordinarily she would have had much more to say. And yet before this man: nothing.

    At least Fraidun spoke. ¡®Can¡¯t say I like the risk much.¡¯

    Cursing his luck, Janu asked, ¡®So you¡¯re out?¡¯ He should have laid out the situation earlier. If only he hadn¡¯t been so blasted drunk.

    ¡®Didn¡¯t say that. Just don¡¯t like it. Think it¡¯s worth another ten. Buy us a bigger cart, better horses.¡¯

    Janu opened his mouth, but Ilarion jumped in before he could say anything. ¡®Deal. Buy what you need.¡¯ After a pause, he added, ¡®But that¡¯s as high as we go,¡¯ like a man chronically unused to hiding his cards. He could have gone higher. Who in the hells was he working for?

    Galnai scoffed, and a blush flashed over Ilarion¡¯s pale face. The man stood abruptly, gathered the larger map from the table and nodded to them. ¡®I¡¯ll leave you to plan.¡¯

    After he left and had been gone for a few seconds, Janu turned to Galnai and asked, ¡®You knew that man?¡¯

    ¡®No,¡¯ she replied quickly. Then with more thought, she met his gaze and shook her head. ¡®He bears a passing resemblance to someone I once knew, that¡¯s all.¡¯

    Janu didn¡¯t believe her, but he had more important things to think about. They would have to hurry to reach their destination in time, and he began listing what he needed to organise in his head.

    Only much later did he realise that it should have been impossible for any ordinary spy to send news back from Kurentim so fast.

 7. A Rite of Passage

    Princess Popilia Phoca stood as still as she could while her two handmaidens dressed her. While she was used to the routine, the added complexity of these ceremonial clothes left her itching to tear free from their grasp. The extra time was a deviation that tugged at her brain, made her intimately aware of each passing second. The cowbells in the distance seemed to tick each one away, when she could hear them over the howl of wind past the open window.

    A chill gust of air passed over her neck and she shivered.

    ¡®Oh, will someone please shut that thing?¡¯ she asked. Summer hadn¡¯t truly begun yet. It was cool enough inside without extra help.

    Her tutor gave her a withering stare from across the room. ¡®The fresh air is good for you, your grace.¡¯

    Popilia knew it would be pointless to argue, but she curled her toes impatiently. A bass rumble reverberated through the painted stone around her from one of the dragons on watch in their towers. She craned her neck to try catching a glimpse through the window ¨C might as well make use of it if it had to be open ¨C and was rewarded with a shove back into a manageable position.

    ¡®Remember, your grace,¡¯ her tutor said as the handmaiden tied the final points, ¡®you are representing your parents and the entire empire here today. You must be on your best behaviour.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m always on my best behaviour in public,¡¯ said Popilia. ¡®But I would hardly call this "public". Who¡¯s watching? Just you and some soldiers and Critobulus.¡¯

    ¡®That¡¯s High Sorcerer Critobulus to you, child.¡¯ Her tutor sighed, gathered her skirts and took a cushioned seat by the window. ¡®And the soldiers are your public as much as any citizen. Just because they have sworn oaths to the crown does not preclude them from forming opinions. A body of soldiers with the wrong opinion of you is not something you want to exist.¡¯

    Popilia smiled thanks at her handmaidens and toyed with the glittering new ring on her left hand. ¡®Does it matter that much? I won¡¯t be around any of our soldiers for long.¡¯

    ¡®It will matter more then, your grace. Because then you will be around soldiers who have sworn no oaths to you, and the only thing protecting you from their opinion will be the oath of your husband. We start as we mean to go on, child.¡¯ She swept off the seat and took Popilia by the shoulders, positioning her in front of one of the handmaidens holding a small silver mirror. ¡®Make your behaviour a matter of habit now and it will not fail you in future.¡¯

    With nothing to say to that, Popilia remained silent. She turned this way and that to get a good view of herself in the mirror, finding some hint of the grandeur of her parents ¨C her mother¡¯s wide brown eyes, lined with kohl; her father¡¯s bronze skin; enough jewels and silk that she felt four times her weight. What small pride she felt fluttered in her chest. She wished they hadn¡¯t been too busy to be here with her, to watch her ceremony. Neither of her two sisters had been bonded to a dragon, and both were older! Only her parents and three older brothers had dragons, and only the eldest had one old enough to fly.

    Before she could get lost in daydreams of flight, her tutor fussed her out of their sleeping room. They had all shared it that night, tapestries and hangings keeping Popilia¡¯s bed separate in the large space. Kurentim¡¯s keep only had two small floors for its infrequent guests ¨C a far cry from the many rooms of the imperial palace in Chorus.

    They filed down the curved staircase together and emerged in the hall on the ground floor. Critobulus ¨C High Sorcerer Critobulus ¨C already stood there waiting. Several of his underlings flocked around him with scrolls and materials, all of them dwarfed by their master¡¯s freakishly tall frame. The cloak hanging from his broad shoulders only added to the effect, making him seem twice that size again and cutting his edges as sharp as those on his black beard.

    ¡®Princess Popilia,¡¯ he said, bowing with a polite smile and the semblance of a tree folding in half. ¡®I trust you slept well?¡¯

    ¡®Yes, thank you.¡¯ Once they had shuttered the window and hung tapestries over the shutters, the wind had been quite muted.

    ¡®That is good.¡¯ The polite smile disappeared, as did his apparent willingness for small talk. ¡®Your dragon is almost ready to hatch. With a short ritual, we will be able to accelerate that. My assistants have prepared the courtyard. Do you have any questions before we proceed?¡¯

    ¡®Well...¡¯ Popilia couldn¡¯t wait to get outside. She hadn¡¯t been allowed to see her egg yet. But she forced herself to calm down and think. ¡®What exactly is it you want me to do?¡¯

    ¡®One of my assistants will talk you through the steps once it begins.¡¯

    ¡®And what if something goes wrong. What if it... tries to eat me?¡¯ Was that a stupid question? How big were dragons when they hatched?

    Critobulus nodded, his face grave. ¡®It is natural to be worried about such an eventuality, of course. I assure you, the magic at play is quite strong. Were it to break free even for a moment, however, the guards would capture or kill it. A hatchling is a small, manageable thing, though still no laughing matter.¡¯

    ¡®Oh. They would only kill it if they had no other choice, wouldn¡¯t they?¡¯ A shadow of the embarrassment she would feel if she returned to Chorus having cost her parents a dragon wound through her.

    ¡®Of course.¡¯

    Popilia nodded, satisfied. ¡®I¡¯m ready, then.¡¯

    ¡®Then follow me, your grace.¡¯

    Critobulus turned with a dramatic sweep of his cloak and made for the door, preceded by two of his assistants, with everyone else falling in behind in a short and largely unobserved procession. Together they entered the cloud-dimmed daylight of the courtyard. As when she arrived, Popilia craned her neck up to each of the towers in turn to catch a glimpse of the dragon guards. She could only see one of their tails ¨C a rusty orange plume of feathers dangling from the lip of the observation platform it called home.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    ¡®Do they ever fly?¡¯ she asked.

    Critobulus peered back over his shoulder, then followed her gaze. ¡®Not when there are eggs or important persons such as yourself to guard, your grace. Otherwise, they are exercised regularly.¡¯

    Popilia¡¯s shoulders fell. So there was no chance of her seeing them properly during her visit, then. Her tutor must have noticed her disappointment, as she earned a sharp tap on the wrist from her cane. She straightened her back. A matter of habit.

    Their procession ended a scant few yards from the keep in the centre of the courtyard, where Critobulus and his assistants fanned out around the perimeter of a raised stone circle. Channels had been carved into its surface, funnelling to a ditch around the edge that must run into a sluice somewhere. It reminded Popilia of the channels carved into kitchen floors. There wouldn¡¯t be blood, would there?

    A bowl-like nest of hay rested in the centre of the circle, but no egg lay upon it. She looked to Critobulus for explanation, but he just gestured to a cushion beside the hay.

    ¡®If you could kneel there, please, your grace.¡¯

    Uncertainty gripped her. When she stepped up onto the circle, some sinister voice whispered warnings in the back of her head. Just superstitions. Just the memories of nursery tales coming back to haunt her ¨C tales of stone circles and altars and blood sacrifice. All long in the past, if it had ever happened. Get it out of your head, Popo.

    She knelt on the cushion. It didn¡¯t take away much from the hardness of the floor, and she shuffled to find a comfortable position. Then a door clanged open somewhere to her right, and four soldiers emerged carrying a palanquin. They marched straight onto the circle and set it down on one side of the hay, then flipped open a few catches and lifted the entire top off.

    Popilia¡¯s heart sped at the sight it revealed ¨C her dragon egg, as big as she was. It was a pinkish white with a texture like slate. Beneath the overlapping flakes of its surface, the inner surface was purple, and these glimpses taken all together seemed like veins. It shimmered a little, even beneath the clouds.

    Two of the soldiers took the palanquin away while the other two moved the egg off the palanquin floor into the middle of the hay before leaving with the floor themselves. The egg rocked a little after they had set it in place. Two of Critobulus¡¯ assistants began chanting in the canter¡¯s tongue, their voices layering over each other from either side.

    Intent on the egg before her, Popilia jumped at the approach of another assistant. The old man knelt beside her and held out two pieces of jewellery ¨C an inscribed metal collar and a jewelled filigree choker.

    ¡®What are these for?¡¯ she asked.

    ¡®Take them.¡¯ His voice scratched like rustling parchment. When Popilia reached for the items, he explained, ¡®The filigree is for you to wear around your neck. You must never take it off.¡¯

    ¡®Never?¡¯ She stared up at him, at his cloudy eyes. ¡®Not even bathing?¡¯

    ¡®Not even then.¡¯

    She examined the metal in her hand, leaving the other piece on her lap. It weighed next to nothing, but she knew small things could add up. How irritating would it be after a whole day, a week, a year? And around her neck? She had worn chokers before, but wearing one forever, she would feel like a prisoner, or a dog on a chain.

    ¡®Can I not just wear it on my wrist?¡¯ she asked. Surely they could adjust it smaller.

    ¡®A wrist can be severed. A neck...¡¯ He trailed off, searching for words.

    Popilia rolled her eyes. She had seen her first beheading when she was six. She got the picture.

    ¡®And this one?¡¯ She pointed to the thicker piece.

    ¡®That is for the hatchling. Once it hatches, you must go to it and place it around its neck.¡¯

    ¡®And when do I put mine on? Now?¡¯

    ¡®Not yet. Wait until the central stone begins to glow.¡¯

    Popilia nodded and held the choker and collar across her lap, staring at the large fire opal in the centre of the choker. At least it didn¡¯t look bad. Maybe they would work some magic on it to make it feel like it wasn¡¯t there at all.

    As she watched, Critobulus added his booming voice to the mix and the stone began to flicker. At first she thought it might be the light catching on it, but when she held her hand beside it, a gradual light sept over her skin. Within a few more beats of the chant, its glow became as bright as a candle flame. She unclasped in and put it on as instructed, fumbling with the clasp behind her neck until it clicked into place. Heat washed through it and dug into her skin. Thinking of her tutor, she refrained from itching, but her fingers twitched with the urge. Critobulus¡¯ voice lapsed back into silence.

    A sharp crack drew her attention back to the egg. The whole thing twitched, and the white flakes crusting its surface shivered.

    Popilia unclasped the collar, fingers trembling with excitement. She leaned forwards as if it would give her a better view, as if it would make her dragon hatch faster. She hardly dared breathe, and her lungs burned.

    Another crack rang out across the circle and a flake of outer shell fell to the pile of hay. The inner shell bulged in the gap where it had been, a snout or a tail or some other limb pushing at it from the inside.

    Should she get closer? She hated it when people weren¡¯t specific with their instructions.

    Two more cracks came in quick succession and a shower of flakes flew out from the egg. Hairline cracks webbed the visible parts of the purple inner shell. Popilia resisted the urge to go and help. Someone would have told her if she had to do that. Wouldn¡¯t they?

    The limb poked at the inner shell again ¨C definitely a snout. She could make out the curve of its mouth and the little horns on the tip of its nose. Then with a sound like tearing silk, it broke through. Glistening white and covered in slime, the hatchling extended its neck through the hole, reaching for its freedom so hard that the egg threatened to topple over. Before it could, a bulky section of tail tore through the other side and the rest of the tail came whipping out. The rest of the egg collapsed a moment later, and the hatchling stood there shaking shell fragments from its back and naked wings.

    Popilia began to stand, but Critobulus¡¯ voice shocked her back into sitting. He had joined the chant again.

    The dragon took a few confused steps around its shattered egg, its head wavering like a drunkard walking down a street. One of the assistants moved up with a wet towel and mopped the slime from it, but the dragon¡¯s eyes couldn¡¯t even focus on them. Instead, when the assistant retreated, its gaze slid over to Popilia. The deep purple of its eyes transfixed her. Like its egg, its downy skin was white mottled with traces of pink and purple. It was an ungainly thing with no feathers on its wings ¨C Popilia had imagined it coming out fully formed, but she had seen new falcons hatched before. She should have known better.

    Distant cowbells caught the dragon¡¯s attention, but only for a moment before its head went back to its drunken motion and it stumbled towards Popilia.

    The collar had grown warm in her hands. She raised it in front of her like an invitation, and the hatchling walked right up to her outstretched hands. It sniffed at them, rocking slowly from side to side. Popilia shuffled forwards so her knees touched the bare stone and clasped the collar around the hatchling¡¯s neck before it could react. At the same moment, Critobulus¡¯ voice grew louder and he raised his golden staff.

    In a flash, the world changed. It doubled itself, and Popilia saw herself through the dragon¡¯s eyes at the same time as she saw the dragon itself. Foggy confusion washed over her, and a thin current of panic and fear tugged at her heart. Dizziness set the world spinning, the horizon always shifting from one viewpoint to another.

    She shook her head, and the chanting stopped, and the dizziness passed. Her dragon lay down before her, head lowered, purple eyes fixed on the ground.

    The collar around its neck glinted beneath the dismal clouds.

 8. A Storm-Tossed Kidnapping

    Janu couldn¡¯t stand travelling upriver. Except for the rare occasions when the wind blew their way, it always felt like ten times the effort than it was worth. Yes, in principle it was faster than walking, but the shore crept past at a snail¡¯s pace when he stared out at it. The river from Chorus to their destination in the Zentilum mountains was better than most ¨C wide, deep, and with a prevailing inland breeze ¨C but for the past two days that friendly wind had blown against them.

    He hadn¡¯t planned to spend so long on the river, only a quick crossing. Or quick relative to the surrounding road network, anyway, in this especially swampy part of the country. Their boat route cut a diagonal across this wide, lazy stretch of water. Their horses couldn¡¯t help by pulling from a nearby bank. Even if they had stuck close to the sides, there was no true bank, only walls of half-submerged reeds.

    So instead, they rowed.

    I¡¯m too old for this. His back ached in a thousand different ways. He had worn off the blisters on his hands and blistered them anew.

    ¡®Are you grumbling back there?¡¯ Galnai called over her shoulder from ahead on the other side of the barge. She had never broken rhythm ¨C or a sweat.

    Janu heaved back on his oar. ¡®That¡¯s my bones you can hear,¡¯ he said. ¡®Grinding together.¡¯

    She chuckled, as did the wizened old bargeman sat at the tiller in front of them. He took his clay pipe from his mouth and pointed through the air with it.

    ¡®It¡¯ll be yer bones singing in relief, son,¡¯ the old man said. ¡®Not far from shore now. That¡¯s it right there. Shore and solid ground, and a good walk for yer horses.¡¯

    Janu span around so fast, he almost dropped his oar. True to the bargeman¡¯s word, there lay the sandy bank of the river. Jutting from the vast swathe of flat land beyond it stood the Kurentim mountains and their foothills, blue and hazed in the distance.

    He fancied he could hear his bones sing.

    The pulled up alongside a run-down jetty, unloaded their horses and parted ways with the bargeman, who went in search of the cargo he planned to pick up. For their own part, they continued towards the mountains, walking the horses to begin with so they acclimatised to having their legs on solid ground again.

    A week later when they reached the foothills, they stopped by a village Janu had frequented before and paid a visit to the blind old herbalist who lived there. She made the most potent sleeping powders Janu had ever used, and he had a feeling he would need as much as he could get his hands on, so he filled her purse and they rode away with a small pouch each.

    That was the predictable part of the plan done with.

    For the rest of their journey they followed the main road towards Kurentim, hard to mistake for others thanks to the extra care the empire lavished upon it. With three days until their destination, they turned aside, not wanting to be seen. They wove around the backs of scrubby hills and along the bottom of wooded gorges.

    On the fourth day, they emerged onto a broad, sloped plain above the lowest of the clouds. The road and the ravine Ilarion had mentioned formed a dark slash across the landscape to their right.

    Janu rode up to it with Galnai while Fraidun pitched their tents in the cover of a wind-carved rock.

    ¡®What do you think the best approach is going to be?¡¯ Janu asked.

    Galnai jumped from her horse and moved closer to the edge, crouching to assess it. They hadn¡¯t located the goat path yet, but they had plenty of time. If Ilarion¡¯s information had been accurate, they now had about two weeks to go until the ceremony, and they could expect the princess to return this way in the following week.

    ¡®There are a lot of loose rocks up here,¡¯ said Galnai, turning to look at the plain behind them. ¡®I¡¯d say we pile them up, wedge them in a way we can set them moving when we see them coming. Like we did in Medicia a few years back. Close enough that no one else gets to it first, far enough that they don¡¯t hear or see it fall.¡¯

    Janu nodded. For all the road¡¯s quality, they hadn¡¯t seen many using it past the last town, besides on market days when the Kurentim villagers ventured out with goods and cattle. Their preparations would likely go unnoticed. Even if villagers encountered the rockfall first, they wouldn¡¯t clear it in time. And if they saw the theft, well, how much did the average citizen really care to help the empire?

    ¡®Let¡¯s get started,¡¯ he said.

    <hr>

    Over the next two weeks they made quite a pile of rocks and boulders by the thinnest section of the ravine, partially hidden by a thick shrub that clung to the side of the cliff at a desperate angle. As they lay in wait, cooking only in the daylight on smokeless fires, the sky above grew grey and angry. Janu watched it churn above them, thickening by the day, carrying with it a cruel wind that cut through his clothes and into the skin beneath. The horses grew restless. Birds shot through the sky as if hurled by the hands of giants.

    On the second day after the supposed ceremony, the storm broke. Rain lashed almost horizontally across the sky. It cut into them like daggers when they dared to venture out and forced its way into every gap of their shelter. Lightning rolled through in great blinding sheets, the bellow of thunder never far behind. The horses screamed and bucked against the ropes that held them. They had to hobble them before they could tear themselves free.

    ¡®Do you think they¡¯ll wait this out?¡¯ Fraidun shouted to Janu above the din that lunchtime, with the sky still black as night outside the tent.

    Janu just shrugged. They couldn¡¯t know. Maybe the princess didn¡¯t want to stay in a miserable fort in Kurentim for another moment. Maybe storms scared her. Maybe they had a strict schedule to keep to. All they could do was keeping waiting, with one on soaking watch for their target, one on watch for their signal and the other trying to sleep.

    In the end, though, their watch was pointless. That night, Janu woke to a roar louder than thunder that reverberated through the very ground beneath him. Galnai ducked back into the tent, her hair dripping water all over Janu¡¯s feet.

    ¡®The rockfall¡¯s gone,¡¯ she said, teeth chattering. ¡®Storm washed it over.¡¯

    Janu closed his eyes. If the princess didn¡¯t come through here soon, someone else might clear the way and they would have to start all over, if they even had time. At least with the storm still raging, few villagers were braving the road.

    ¡®How well did it fall?¡¯ he asked.

    ¡®Go look for yourself. It¡¯s your watch. I¡¯m off to replace Fraidun.¡¯

    When he had left the scant comfort of the tent and crawled up to the edge of the cliff, reassurance washed into the small part of Janu¡¯s brained that wasn¡¯t numb from cold. The rocks had piled high, about the height of three men, and completely blocked the ravine. It would take a lot of work to move, or the storm would have already moved it for them.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Get a move on, Princess, Janu thought, and tucked his already cold hands beneath his armpits as he turned to watch for Galnai¡¯s signal.

    <hr>

    Another two days passed. The storm lessened, only an odd rumble of distant thunder returning to remind them of its presence. Rain had turned their campsite into a slippery patch of ankle-deep mud and heavy drops of it still swept in every few minutes on loud squalls. Janu had sent Fraidun out earlier to fetch gravel or branches to cover the goat path ¨C anything that might make them less likely to slip carrying their burdens. He was just finishing up at the bottom of the ravine now. No doubt he would be swearing when he returned to the top.

    Janu glanced right. The handful of villagers he had been keeping an eye on for the past few hours had just disappeared around a bend. He estimated another four or five hours until they reached the ravine and the rockfall.

    He shifted his attention back left and caught a momentary flash from Galnai¡¯s position. Had he imagined it? He waited, hardly daring to breathe.

    There: Two short flashes, a long flash, and another short one. Janu rummaged inside his belt pouch for his flint and iron, then used them to light the covered lantern he had been keeping beside him. It caught on the second attempt and he let it grow for a moment before returning the signal. For a while afterwards, nothing happened. Then two flashes came from Galnai¡¯s position. She was on her way back.

    Janu picked up a small stone and threw it down the slope towards Fraidun. He started at the impact and stared up at Janu, eyes narrowed to slits. In response Janu raised the lantern, pointed at it, and gestured for Fraidun to hurry back up. He got a rude gesture back, but he had expected no less.

    Heartbeat rising, Janu rushed back to the tents to start packing them up. It¡¯s really happening. Depending on how far out Galnai had spotted them, the princess, her guards ¨C and, most importantly, her dragon ¨C could be on them in a few short hours. They had to be ready. They had to be quick.

    <hr>

    A light drizzle veiled the ravine as the three of them waited in a bush halfway up the goat path, watching the first of the imperial guards ride into view. At once, the two foremost guards broke into a canter towards the rockfall to examine it. Janu thanked the gods for the storm ¨C enough trees and rocked had tumbled over the edge of the ravine elsewhere that their manmade addition shouldn¡¯t seem too suspicious. The rest of the convoy kept moving, either unconcerned or keen to get the carriage somewhere where all the guards could see it.

    Janu counted them all as they came to a halt a hundred yards from the rockfall, not far ahead of the bottom of the goat path. Twenty guards and one carriage with its driver, as Ilarion had said. But riding alongside them was another, freakishly tall on a horse as grey as granite, his brown travel cloak not entirely covering his finery, nor the golden staff he carried. Another noble, that was all. Ilarion¡¯s spies must have missed him. He bore no weapons beyond the staff and, like as not, that was only ceremonial.

    It was time. Janu tapped Galnai on the wrist, and together they took out the small pouches of snuff that had come with the sleeping powder, then closed one nostril and snorted it. A sharp scent raced through his sinuses and stung the back of his throat. He held back a sneeze, tapped Galnai¡¯s arm again.

    They crept down the goat path.

    At the front of the convoy, the noble was examining the rockfall with several off the guards. The others were standing by the carriage awaiting instructions, and one exchanged words with the passengers inside.

    Janu weighed the strength of the wind that whistled through the ravine towards the rockfall, judging how close he would have to be before letting the sleeping powder fly might be effective. Closer than this, for sure, and they had to stop behind another patch of scrub when the noble at the rockfall turned back.

    The noble gestured to the guards by the carriage and ten of them dismounted to walk over to the rockfall, leaving five to guard the princess. As they did, the noble began taking strange items from his horse¡¯s saddlebags and distributing them amongst the guards with terse instructions that the wind snatched away from them. An uneasy feeling fluttered in Janu¡¯s belly, but he couldn¡¯t let caution take too great a hold of him. As long as the bulk of the guards were up by the rockfall, they were distracted.

    One eye still on the guards, Janu stepped down the next stretch of the goat path. It brought him within twenty yards of the carriage. Not quite close enough to use the powder and guarantee getting all six.

    There was a bright flash ahead, and muted thunder crashed on the other side of the rockfall. When the guards turned to look, Janu scurried the next ten yards, then loosened the pouch of sleeping powder and threw its contents into the wind. It danced away, shimmering faintly, and made a solid grouping of the guards. One of them looked about, confused, and the next second they all slumped in their saddles. Their horses and those of their dismounted companions dozed, not quite asleep but not alert enough to cause any problems.

    Galnai rushed ahead of him, readied her own pouch, pulled the carriage door open a crack and blew the powder inside. Someone squawked in alarm, but the whistling wind and the body of the carriage both must have blocked the sound reaching the rockfall, for none of the guards turned. They were all laying out the components the noble had given them while the noble himself stood before the rockfall, supporting himself on his staff.

    Janu picked his way around the snoozing horses and slipped up to the other door of the carriage. He opened it as quietly as he could, although Galnai was making more banging on the other side than he could have hoped to match. He looked in and just caught the sight of skirts and slippered feet disappearing through the opposite door as Galnai made off with the princess.

    Three other women sat in the carriage, their heads slumped to their chests or on top of their neighbour¡¯s. One was far too old to be the princess. The other two, he would have easily mistaken for one, but neither wore any tight jewellery around their neck, and that was the mark of a dragon¡¯s bonded. Galnai had the right one.

    He almost missed the dragon itself. It was curled up at the bottom of the carriage, partly hidden by the women¡¯s skirts, only its horned white snout and tail poking out from underneath. It snored like a contented cat.

    Knowing his back would hate him for this later, Janu took hold of the dragon and dragged it towards him, straining against its weight. As soon as he could, he bundled the creature up in his arms, draped its head and tail over each shoulder, pushed the door closed again and hurried back to the goat path. Galnai was far ahead of him, already crouching at the first patch of scrub and keeping a watchful gaze over the rockfall.

    Janu wanted to look back, but pushed ahead. The dragon¡¯s downy hide tickled his cheeks.

    When he reached the scrub, Galnai had already forged ahead. He paused for a quick breather and looked back at the rockfall, frowning. The noble had his staff raised high, and fragments of sharp words whipped back on Janu on the gusting wind.

    Gods below, the rocks were floating.

    Each one peeled off from the top of the rockfall and floated down into the waiting hands of the soldiers, who passed them along the chain to be piled to one side. Another flash of lightning lit the sky, glittering all along the shaft of the noble¡¯s staff. Except he was no mere noble. Ilarion hadn¡¯t mentioned a blasted sorcerer would be here.

    Janu rushed up the goat path, the branches and gravel Fraidun had laid crunching slightly with each footfall. Galnai was still waiting for him at the last patch of scrub, distracted by the sight of the floating rocks. The sorcerer¡¯s voice had risen in volume, amplified somehow by the magic he worked, and echoed around them.

    ¡®Go!¡¯ Janu hissed. ¡®Move!¡¯

    A haze still hung in the air by the carriage, sleeping powder whipping this way and that in little vortices of wind, fanning out over a wider area. Just as Janu was about to move on, the chanting stopped. The sorcerer turned his head, sniffed the air.

    Shit. Janu leapt into motion just as he whirled around and shouted for the guards. The gravel skittered beneath his feet and bounced down the side of the ravine. The air tingled around him. Instinctively he ducked, and something skimmed the top of his head at high speed. A rock sailed off in his peripheral.

    Swearing, Janu pushed as hard as he could. Galnai had gone. He could hear their horses snorting and whinnying at the top of the cliff, and he willed Fraidun to move them out of the way before one of them caught a flying rock, even if that would leave him with further to run.

    Another rock smashed into the ground ahead of him. He slipped in the patch of mud it left but kept running.

    He emerged gasping at the top of the cliff a moment later. Galnai grabbed the dragon from him before he could say anything and shoved it into the cage on the back of their cart. The princess was already bound and gagged beside it. Gods, she looked so young. What was she? Ten? Twelve?

    Galnai sat in the cart and began binding the dragon¡¯s snout. To shouts below them, Janu ran up to the front of the cart and jumped on, shouting at the horse to go. It bounded forwards, the cart jerking behind it. Fraidun galloped alongside with the reins to Galnai¡¯s horse in his hands. He kept glancing back at the cart, at the princess bound within it, a look of disgust plastered across his face.

    They had done it. They had kidnapped the princess. Now they just had to survive.

 9. A Party Divided

    Forks of lightning tongued the sky in the mountains ahead, making stark black silhouettes of the peaks. Another storm rode in on the back of the last one, spawned by black clouds and the black mood of mountain gods. They galloped through cloying stretches of low cloud and winced beneath the blows of hailstones the size of eyeballs. A sharp one had slashed open Janu¡¯s cheek, and the blood kept washing into his mouth.

    Fraidun was saying something, arguing with Galnai now she had jumped back to her horse, but Janu couldn¡¯t make it out. He angled the cart to get closer and winced when it bounced over a rock.

    ¡®¡ªneed to stop,¡¯ he was shouting. ¡®Stop!¡¯

    Galnai shook her head at him, but Fraidun lunged forwards and grabbed her reins, bringing both their horses stamping and snorting to a halt.

    Swearing, Janu pulled back on his own horse. Galnai had pulled her arm back and looked all set to knock Fraidun from his saddle.

    ¡®What¡¯s going on?¡¯ Janu asked before anyone could get violent.

    Galnai turned to look at him, her teeth bared, and grabbed hold of Fraidun by his shirt. ¡®This idiot wants us to let the princess go.¡¯

    Fraidun slapped her hand away. His horse whinnied, the whites of its eyes showing in the half light.

    ¡®Well, we should,¡¯ he said. ¡®We hand her over and who knows what they¡¯ll do with her. She¡¯ll be a slave! Or worse!¡¯

    ¡®That¡¯s not what Ilarion told us,¡¯ Janu said.

    ¡®Oh what, and you believe him?¡¯

    ¡®I believe he¡¯ll pay us!¡¯ He thought of those fifty promised bezin. ¡®That¡¯s what we¡¯re here for. And you! You love sticking it to the empire. That¡¯s who she is.¡¯ He gestured to the cart behind him. ¡®Imperial through and through.¡¯

    Fraidun¡¯s face contorted. ¡®She¡¯s a child!¡¯

    ¡®So you¡¯d be fine shipping her off to an unknown fate if she was only a few years older? Come on, man!¡¯

    In the distance, trumpets sounded. The soldiers must have woken their horses and begun pursuit. Janu whipped his horse back into motion without waiting for Fraidun to respond.

    Fraidun caught up alongside a moment later, slamming his foot into the side of the cart and apparently not noticing. His face held too much anger for pain to register.

    ¡®Just drop her, Janu,¡¯ he said. ¡®Leave her behind. This isn¡¯t right!¡¯

    Janu snarled and half turned to him, one eye fixed on the way ahead. ¡®Blast your sense of right and wrong, Fraidun! The dragon¡¯s worthless without her. You know that. And you really think they¡¯ll stop looking for us and the dragon? No! They won¡¯t want to waste the bond.¡¯

    Instead of arguing, Fraidun leaned over to the rattling cart and grabbed for the princess. Janu reached back to stop him, but just then there was a thud and the whole cart lurched to the left. Galnai had jumped from her horse and stood now in a half crouch, poised over the sleeping girl.

    Hoofbeats thundered through the storm. Janu couldn¡¯t tell if it was from their pursuers or their own steps echoing from the rocks around them. He couldn¡¯t see far enough back through the gloom to tell. He dare not urge the horse any faster for fear the unstable cart would tip. In the cage, the hatchling reared its head, blinking in groggy confusion.

    ¡®Keep your hands to yourself, Fraidun,¡¯ Galnai said. Her teeth gleamed in the next flash of lightning.

    Fraidun stood in his stirrups, staring her down, and snarled at her. ¡®I¡¯ll follow my own gut. Heartless bitch.¡¯

    He reached for the princess again. Screaming a Khunuchanian curse that was all phlegm and rolling Rs, Galnai drew her dagger and struck like the lightning around them. Fraidun yelled and reeled back, clutching his hand. His eyes bulged, as wide and crazy as his panicked horse¡¯s, which danced off to the right.

    Whatever Fraidun shouted back was lost to the wind. When he galloped forwards again, only his right hand held the reins. He held his left to his chest, weeping blood.

    ¡®I¡¯ll have no part of this!¡¯ he said to Janu.

    Soaked, tired, and done with Fraidun¡¯s theatrics, Janu shook his head. ¡®Then you¡¯ll have no part of the reward. You¡¯d have spent it all whoring, anyway.¡¯

    Fraidun spat in the wind, gave them all one last glare, then hauled his horse around. He was lost to the gloom in an instant.

    Peace fell upon the cart, or as near to it as the storm would allow. Galnai made her way to the front of the cart and sat down beside Janu with a groan. Her horse ran dutifully alongside her ¨C Janu would never expect the same of his, but Galnai had always been the better horsewoman.

    He breathed a sigh of relief. ¡®You didn¡¯t have to stab him like that, you know.¡¯

    She snorted. ¡®Most men understand a sharp blade better than any number of stern words.¡¯

    ¡®Certainly doesn¡¯t leave much room for interpretation.¡¯The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    He kept his ears peeled for the sound of pursuit. Fragments of Fraidun¡¯s hoofbeats came in fits and starts on the wind, and once far off the distant trumpets blew.

    ¡®He could lead them right to us,¡¯ Galnai said.

    ¡®He wouldn¡¯t. They¡¯d punish him just as much for being involved. They wouldn¡¯t spare him.¡¯

    ¡®Have you always had such faith in his intelligence?¡¯

    Janu stayed silent. The new concern wound its way around his brain and nerves tightened his chest.

    ¡®Drive the cart for me, will you?¡¯ he asked, handing Galnai the reins, then reached beneath his cloak and brought out the map Ilarion had given them. He desperately tried to match the landmarks on the map to their current route, but he could barely make out the other side of the valley. Only in moments when lightning flashed could he make out their surroundings, and the sudden change in light left him blinded in the seconds afterwards.

    ¡®The first landmark¡¯s a leaning rock over the river,¡¯ Galnai said. The cart juddered and shook. Much more of this and the axle might break. ¡®Look, over there.¡¯

    Janu followed Galnai¡¯s outstretched hand to the centre of the valley, where a river glistened beneath the scant light. If he squinted, he could just make out a black mass cutting it in two. How Galnai could tell that was their rock, he had no idea.

    ¡®You¡¯re sure that¡¯s it?¡¯ he asked. When she nodded, he said, ¡¯You¡¯re blessed with better eyes than mine, then.¡¯

    ¡®Younger eyes.¡¯

    ¡®Ha ha.¡¯

    A scrabbling noise came from behind him. He turned to see the dragon clawing at the bars of its cage and trying to stick its nose through the gaps towards the princess. Attached, even with its bonded asleep. It had to be, really. If that was all it took for the bond to loosen, a lot more of the nobility would have been eaten in their sleep by now. In any case, the bars were strong iron. It wouldn¡¯t be getting through them any time soon.

    They followed the course of the river, rattling and leaping over every bump and divot. Galnai had tucked one of the tents beneath the princess¡¯ head, but the sleeping powder must have had a strong hold on her indeed for her not to have woken up yet.

    ¡®We should ditch the cart,¡¯ Galnai said as they approached the rock ¨C obviously the right landmark, now they were closer, leaning over the entrance to a small lake.

    ¡®Hmm. It¡¯ll be easy enough for them to spot. They¡¯ll track us from it.¡¯ Janu¡¯s spine and tailbone ached, though. He longed to be riding his horse instead.

    ¡®Not if we ditch it in the lake.¡¯ She sat upright, scanning the path ahead. ¡®Stop the cart here. We¡¯ll transfer everything to our horses, then drive the cart off the end of the rock so it sinks in the deep part. We¡¯ll go faster without it, and less obvious, too.¡¯

    Janu nodded and slowed to a halt, their horses¡¯ hooves clopping against hard stone. Galnai took charge of the princess, leaving Janu to wrangle the dragon. Given how sharp he knew their claws to be, he didn¡¯t bother attempting to tie its legs until he had shoved its nose in the remnants of the sleeping powder. Then he tied it to the back of his horse and unharnessed his horse from the cart shafts.

    They transferred everything else from the cart to their saddlebags, throwing what they didn¡¯t need into the dark embrace of the lake. Only when it was completely empty did they line the cart up with the landmark stone and begin heaving. It was heavy, sweaty work, at an angle that felt far steeper than it had first appeared. Step by step, they pushed. Perhaps a full minute later the load suddenly lightened and the cart tipped over the edge of the rock, scraping its bottom loudly on the way down and hitting the lake with a gigantic splash.

    Janu bent over and wheezed. His clothes stuck to him. If he had been made of iron, he would have rusted solid by now.

    ¡®Come on, old man.¡¯ Galnai slapped his back, though she was out of breath herself.

    To the sound of more trumpets in the distance, they mounted and rode off. Galnai led the way, taking them along the shore of the lake where the water would mask their footprints. From there they turned right towards the shadow of another valley. There the ground grew rougher, a shifting scree that constantly threatened to trip the horses. They had to pick their path with care. With the light fading still further, the best way they could do so was on foot. Every other step they took sent flat stones clattering and hissing over each other. Their feet shifted so often that they might as well have been walking through sand.

    By the time they reached more stable ground, the storm was easing, but Janu¡¯s whole body ached. His legs weighted him like lead, and it was all he could do to put one foot after the other. Even the horses were tired, foam flecking their mouths, heads downcast, half-heartedly tugging against their reins.

    In the absence of sliding scree and the quietening of the wind, they entered a world of eerie calm. The mountains to either side of them grew closer. The clouds flitted with luminous contours, and Janu even caught sight of the moon once or twice in the growing gaps.

    On the back of Galnai¡¯s horse, the princess shifted and muttered something in her sleep, though the gag muffled her words. Janu hadn¡¯t her trumpets for a while, so the thought of removing the gag tempted him ¨C she would wake terribly uncomfortable having worn it all night. But he couldn¡¯t guarantee they wouldn¡¯t meet imperial soldiers around the next corner, and they couldn¡¯t have her crying out to them.

    ¡®How far until the handover?¡¯ he asked.

    Galnai paused to examine the map, checking the landscape every so often for reference. The more she did so, the more worried Janu became.

    ¡®It¡¯s hard to tell,¡¯ she said at length. ¡®We¡¯re still heading in the right direction, don¡¯t worry. But as for our destination... it¡¯s another half day¡¯s ride, I¡¯d say. But it¡¯ll be very easy to miss in the dark.¡¯

    ¡®Ilarion said¡ª¡¯

    She snorted. ¡®Yes, I¡¯m sure he was telling the truth about the old stones. But we¡¯ll have to pick out all the right paths to get to it. That¡¯s the hard part.¡¯

    Janu sighed and eyed a nearby rock, resisting the temptation to sit down. He would never be able to leave again. Instead he examined the surrounding mountainside. A lot of them became sheer here, like many pillars of rocks pressed together to form one mass. He nodded to a section further up the path, just at the edge of his vision, where a dark void sat beneath an outcrop.

    ¡®Is that a cave?¡¯ he asked.

    Galnai looked over and folded the map away. ¡®Could be.¡¯

    Needing no discussion, they headed for the void. Janu wanted to cry when it proved to be exactly what he had thought ¨C a cave tall enough for them and their horses, deep enough that they might be able to risk a fire to get warm again. Warmth! He had forgotten what it felt like. Galnai left him to settle and unburden the horses while she she ventured outside for whatever firewood could reasonably be called ¡®dry¡¯.

    Once he had arranged the princess and the dragon side-by side at the back of the cave, behind the horses, Janu took the few dry logs and pieces of kindling they had stowed in their saddlebags and started a fire going. He huddled as close to it as he could, in part to hide its light, in part to dry his clothes and warm his trembling fingers.

    By the time steam was boiling from his clothes in great swathes, he considered the fire hot and stable enough for cooking. Though all he wanted to do was sleep, he set a pot of porridge over the fire with water from his water skin and sat there watching it. The smell wafted up to him, making his mouth water. Behind him, someone¡¯s stomach gurgled.

    He turned around. The princess was wriggling on the floor and had somehow managed to loosen her gag. She looked past him at the fire, its light reflecting from her eyes.

    ¡®Can I have some of that?¡¯ she asked. ¡®Please. I¡¯m hungry.¡¯

 10. The Mountain Pass

    The first rule of kidnappings, Popilia knew, was not to eat or drink anything her captors gave her. But no one had ever properly explained why to her, so she failed to see why she should pay any heed to it. The truth of the matter was: her mouth was bone dry, her stomach was caving in on itself, and her whole body ached. She itched at the corners of her mouth where the gag had rubbed. Eugh, I can still taste the cloth. Her stomach growled again.

    ¡®It¡¯s hardly fit for a princess,¡¯ said the man in front of her. The fire made him too much of a silhouette for her to make out many details. Just a pointy chin and comically bushy eyebrows.

    ¡®Yes, but I¡¯m hungry,¡¯ she said. A note of whining came into her voice that her tutor would have scolded her for. ¡®And how do you know what a princess eats?¡¯

    The man laughed ¨C a warm sound in this cold place. ¡®Why, everyone knows what princesses eat. Gold-covered berries and expensive spices and all the choicest meats.¡¯

    She sniffed. With it came a waft of wholesome porridge scent. ¡®Gold upsets my stomach. I prefer porridge.¡¯

    ¡®Alright then.¡¯ Her captor sighed. ¡®This is almost ready.¡¯

    ¡®Thank you.¡¯ Popilia scratched at her neck and brushed up against the warm filigree of her choker. She scowled, then remembered. Jerking upright so suddenly that, with her hands tied behind her, she almost overbalanced, she searched the cave for her dragon. It was curled up next to her, its breath hissing quietly between its teeth. Popilia hadn¡¯t sensed it in quite the same way as during the ceremony since then, but when she knew where to look, she could detect its presence. It formed a persistent ¡®pull¡¯ on her subconscious, like standing in the dark and knowing someone was right behind you, even when you couldn¡¯t see or hear them.

    ¡®Don¡¯t even think about untying her,¡¯ the man said.

    Popilia blinked at him. ¡®Her?¡¯

    ¡®Sure.¡¯ He spooned porridge into a little clay bowl and passed it to her with a wooden spoon. ¡®That¡¯s a female dragon. You didn¡¯t know?¡¯

    Popilia took the spoon and shovelled porridge into her mouth, shaking her head as she swallowed. No one had told her that, but they hadn¡¯t told her much. No doubt someone, somewhere, had plans and studs and breeding lines drawn out already. None of that would matter until her dragon reached maturity, though.

    Although, thinking of plans... ¡®Where are you taking me?¡¯

    ¡®To the person who hired us.¡¯ The man blew on his own porridge while he added more oats and water to the pot. Popilia hoped he was making seconds.

    ¡®And where will they take me?¡¯ she asked.

    ¡®They didn¡¯t tell me. My guess is the Ijaran Kingdom.¡¯

    Popilia wrinkled her nose. ¡®I don¡¯t like them. Their king just stinks and swears at everyone, and he eats so much food.¡¯ She had heard it took him over an hour to relieve himself after meals, and he had once eaten a whole side of lamb in one sitting. ¡®And his daughters are all mean. Why do they want me, anyway?¡¯

    A new voice called from the front of the cave ¨C a woman¡¯s, deep and thickly accented. ¡®It¡¯s your dragon they¡¯re after. You¡¯re just a bonus.¡¯

    Turning, Popilia got a clear view of the woman. She was tall, though not as tall as Critobulus, and built like a barge hauler. On one side of her face, where an ear should have been, was only a ragged hole partly covered by limp strands of wet hair. Popilia tried not to stare, but from the sour look that crossed the woman¡¯s face she wasn¡¯t successful.

    ¡®But...¡¯ Popilia licked her lips. Her attention shifted back to the filigree around her neck. ¡®My bond can¡¯t be broken. There¡¯s no point taking my dragon. They can¡¯t do anything with it. With her, I mean.¡¯

    The man by the fire stood up and passed a third bowl of porridge to the woman. No seconds, then.

    ¡®Most likely,¡¯ he said, ¡®they¡¯ll ask you to work for them.¡¯

    ¡®And if I say no?¡¯

    ¡®Could also be ransom,¡¯ the woman mused, ignoring her question. ¡®You¡¯ll find out soon enough.¡¯

    The man shot her a dark look, then said, ¡®We should all get some sleep, in any case. Wait for this storm to clear, and for daylight.¡¯

    Popilia straightened. ¡®But I only just woke up.¡¯

    The woman turned her way, brows lowered. ¡®And we were up that whole time. You¡¯ll sleep or we¡¯ll put you to sleep, princess. Your choice.¡¯

    Popilia was about to argue when she remembered the way the guards outside the carriage had fallen asleep, the way dust had glittered through the interior when the door had opened, and how she had seen her tutor slump before dizziness took her too. So she chose to sleep the natural way.

    Or, at least, she pretended to sleep. She stayed quiet and tried not to move, though the hard floor made that difficult. Her captors took it in turns to sleep, first the woman and then the man, who snored so loud that the cave echoed with buzzing. The woman kicked him once or twice to shut him up, casting concerned glances out at the darkness beyond the cave.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Her guards must be looking for her. How close were they? Popilia considered shouting out for help, but she could hear the wind howling outside ¨C surely that would snatch any sound away. And if she really was ¡®just a bonus¡¯ to her dragon, like the woman said, would they kill her for making noise? She didn¡¯t think the man would, but the woman... She wasn¡¯t kind at all. Though Popilia wouldn¡¯t be happy if someone chopped her ear off, either.

    The night passed quickly. She dropped off a few times and slept fitfully. When she woke the last time, her dragon had already woken, and she lay with her tail draped across Popilia¡¯s legs and her head curled against her chest. Popilia scratched her behind her ear ¨C or what she thought was her ear ¨C and she just blinked at her.

    You really are just a big, sleepy cat, Popilia thought. Somehow, the thought reached further than usual, like her mind stretched away from her body to encompass the dragon¡¯s, too. Can you understand me?

    The dragon inclined her head, which was something, but not a definitive answer.

    Can you talk?

    Nothing.

    Disappointed, Popilia looked around the cave. Both her captors were awake again. They crouched near the mouth of the cave, just visible between the legs of the horses next to her, and spoke in hushed whispers that Popilia could barely hear. The woman held a map, and they both examined it, gesticulating in one direction or another.

    ¡®Are we lost?¡¯ Popilia asked.

    They both snapped their heads up to look at her.

    ¡®No,¡¯ the man said. ¡®Just working out the best route. It¡¯s not far from here. We¡¯re getting back on the horses now.¡¯

    ¡®But I¡¯m hungry. And thirsty. And I need to pee.¡¯

    With a sigh and a questioning glance at the woman, the man walked over and untied Popilia¡¯s wrists before handing her a bag of dried nuts and fruit.

    ¡®You can eat those on the way.¡¯ He handed her his waterskin. ¡®Take a swig from this as well.¡¯

    She gulped it down, wishing it didn¡¯t taste so much of leather but not caring much. When she was done, the man took it back from her and gestured to the back of the cave where the remnants of last night¡¯s fire smouldered.

    ¡®You can pee there. We won¡¯t look.¡¯

    Popilia¡¯s lip curled as she eyed the open space, but sitting up to look had squashed her bladder and she was bursting now. So she squatted in her skirts and lifted them so the hem didn¡¯t touch the floor, keeping a watchful eye over her shoulder to make sure they kept true to their word. That they did ¨C too busy leading the horses out front to care.

    When she was done, she walked over to her dragon and tried to lift her without much success. The creature didn¡¯t struggle, but she must have weighed as much as Popilia herself. If only her wings worked and she could fly them away from here!

    ¡®Let me do that for you, princess,¡¯ said the man with a chuckle in her voice.

    A few steps away, the woman rolled her eyes. As the man picked up her dragon and carried her away, the woman gestured to Popilia. ¡®Come here, then. Let¡¯s get you on a horse.¡¯

    Popilia stayed where she was and shook her head. ¡®No.¡¯ She clasped her hands in front of her. ¡®I¡¯m staying here.¡¯

    ¡®No, you¡¯re not.¡¯ The woman walked towards her, backing her up against the wall of the cave. When she was a yard away, Popilia darted under her outstretched arm, but a moment later strong arms encircled her and pulled her from the floor.

    ¡®Let me go!¡¯ She twisted and kicked, but achieved nothing. The light of the outside world bobbed closer with each step, still grey and overcast, but nowhere near as bad as the storm when her carriage had stopped.

    The woman sat her down on one of the waiting horses and jabbed a finger at her. ¡®You jump off, I put you straight back you. You fall off, same story. Scream and I gag you again. You know how many bones you can break falling off a horse? Don¡¯t try it.¡¯

    Those were, at least, clear instructions. Popilia didn¡¯t intend to break them. She stared down the length of the valley, embraced by morning mist. To either side the mountains rose, steep and uninviting. She hadn¡¯t been awake for much of the journey here ¨C any of it, in fact ¨C so how could she even make it back home? Three people and two horses were easier to spot from a distance, at least.

    As they set off with her two captors leading the horses, the man turned to the woman and muttered, ¡®You don¡¯t have to go so hard on her, Galnai.¡¯

    Galnai grunted. ¡®Life doesn¡¯t coddle girls. Why should I?¡¯

    The man only sighed and trudged on, the ground squelching beneath his feet.

    Munching her nut mix as they rode, Popilia could almost pretend this was just some new adventure. They rode for the best part of that morning, the clouds thinning as they rose higher in the mountains. Soon she could guess at a rough time of day, as the sun began to peek through gaps in the cloud directly overhead. At the same time she spotted an odd pile of weathered stones in the distance, raised she guessed by human hands on a mound in the bowl of the valley.

    As they drew closer, she caught a flash of sun on metal and noticed a small figure standing in the entrance to the strange building. It remained there, watching, and eventually they had come close enough that Popilia could tell it was a man with pale skin, tall and wearing shining armour beneath a patterned cloak. He didn¡¯t come out to meet them, but waited until they were closer before beckoning them inside and disappearing.

    Her captors hesitated and glanced at the horses, but then the man followed the soldier inside, still leading the horse with her dragon tied to it.

    A clear path ran into the structure, with great blocks of stone towering up above them, their sides covered by the myriad pits and divots of time. The horses, until now quite flighty, seemed to relax in the close confines. When they emerged in a small clearing in the centre of the stones, they happily put their heads down to chew the sparse grass.

    ¡®I admit, Janu,¡¯ said the new man, gaze passing over Popilia and her dragon, ¡®I¡¯m impressed. You did such a good job describing the madness of our request that you had me convinced it was impossible. The rest of your payment.¡¯ He took a large pouch from his belt and handed it to Janu, who weighed it and began counting the coins.

    Popilia tried to sneak glances at the man when he wasn¡¯t looking her way. He was quite handsome, like a storybook prince with his sandy hair catching the light in waves. Even Galnai¡¯s gaze skittered away from his although, Popilia realised, there was something else behind that. Discomfort, somehow. She didn¡¯t like him, perhaps. Why?

    ¡®It¡¯s all there,¡¯ Janu said at last, tucking the pouch into his own belt. He glanced towards Popilia. ¡®What will happen to her?¡¯

    The soldier smiled and was about to respond when his smile faltered. He put a finger to his lips and cocked his head, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword.

    Popilia held her breath, straining to hear over the wind that howled around the stones. Then she heard it: hoofbeats, dozens of them, like distant thunder.

    Janu swore. ¡®Ilarion, take this horse and go. We¡¯ll take the other.¡¯ He gestured for Popilia to get off her horse but the soldier, Ilarion, shook his head.

    ¡®No,¡¯ he said, drawing his sword. ¡®It¡¯s too late. You won¡¯t outrun them. We have to hold them off.¡¯

 11. Clients With Claws

    It is all very well for a man in expensive armour holding a sword to tell you to fight, but Janu only had his dagger, his thick but hardly stab-proof travel clothes, and a firm desire not to die. So he darted down a passage that he hoped was a side entrance and poked his head out of the end.

    Oh shit.

    He counted about fifteen horsemen racing down the mountainside towards them. Pennants fluttered from their spears and the midday sun caught on the plates of their lamellar armour. They bore kite shields of matching colours, but each with its own design. And they were coming to kill him.

    Janu drew his dagger, for all the good it would do.

    Behind him, a horn blew loud and clear. Janu glanced back to see Ilarion reattaching it to his belt while Galnai tied the princess to a stone pillar.

    ¡®Your employers had better be close!¡¯ Janu called to Ilarion.

    Ilarion grimaced as he picked his helmet up from a pile of supplies. ¡®They¡¯re close. You hold off your entrance. We¡¯ll take the other two.¡¯

    Easier said than done. Janu turned back just in time to see four cavalry archers loose arrows at him. He dived to the side as one flew past him and the others clattered against the rock.

    Certain he had unwittingly picked the entrance with the most people coming for it, Janu gritted his teeth and risked another look outside. The spear cavalry had halted to dismount and the archers were wheeling for another volley. How much sleep powder did he have left? He put his back to the stone again and fumbled at his belt. He had portioned out two smaller pouches for the kidnapping and his main pouch, he felt by squeezing, had just under a portion left.

    He poked his head out again, but four arrows immediately shot towards him. He threw himself out of the way at the last second. The blasted archers had given up their wheeling and stopped right in front of his entrance. All he had wanted to do was get a quick glance at the grass to figure out the wind direction. He looked up to the clouds instead, hoping the wind up there was behaving near enough the same as down here. Just about perpendicular to the passage he stood in. He would have to aim to the side.

    On the other side of the stone building, there was a loud clack. An arrow flew end over end above them. So the archers weren¡¯t just on his side, then. He loosened the tie on the powder pouch, dagger at the ready, and took a step away from the wall. One good throw would do it. He eyed the wall ¨C high, but with a good arc and a lot of force, it might just go far enough. He heard footsteps approaching, drew his arm back and hurled with all his might. Then as fast as he could, he took a pinch of the anti-sleep powder from his other pouch and snorted it. Never put your faith in the wind.

    By the shouts outside, he must have got someone. Knuckles whitening on his dagger¡¯s hilt, Janu looked through the entrance. He¡¯d got the archers, thank the gods, and one had fallen straight from his saddle. Two of the spearmen lay on the ground with another four or five stumbling around in a daze. That still left a handful of heavily armoured imperial soldiers with full possession of their senses. One would have been too much.

    Janu held his dagger before him as the first of the spearmen charged. He met his eyes ¨C narrowed with anger, intent on his prey ¨C and felt the heavy pulse of his blood racing through his body. The wind roared as if to lend its own battle cry.

    The soldier thrust his spear towards Janu. He smacked the shaft aside with his dagger, tried to grab it, was almost pulled off his feet for his trouble. It came back his way almost too fast for him to avoid. As it was, it scraped the flesh of his left shoulder. He tried to stab the soldier¡¯s hand, but again the man was too fast for him.

    Another spear thrust at him from the side. Janu had to throw himself right back against the wall to get out of the way, and that left the way open for the soldiers to rush in.

    The wind roared again. No, not the wind. A black shadow swept over the stones. There was a whump outside, and the two soldiers fell sprawling as dust and stones and grass billowed past them.

    After a moments¡¯ blinking hesitation, Janu grabbed one of their spears and stabbed the men before they could rise, then again for good measure, trying not to think about the way their flesh sucked against the spearhead as he pulled it out. He tried to sheathe his dagger, missed, and dropped it on the floor with a muttered curse.

    Spear held before him in both hands, Janu hopped over the dead men and repositioned himself in the entrance. Half of the men and horses had simply gone. The others all rolled on the floor, slowly getting back to their feet. For a moment he wondered if the sleeping powder had somehow caught fire and exploded, which it had never done before. Then he heard the rustle of feathers cutting through air, and a noise like bellows inflating, and that black shadow passed over his face once more.

    Whump. A blast of air struck the ground, pressing the soldiers back into it. A horse fell on top of one of them, and the man¡¯s scream cut through the air.

    On the other side of the soldiers, a dragon with feathers the deep green of a pine forest spread its wings wide and landed.

    Janu backed away, never taking his eyes off the dragon as it turned. He had made a clear point throughout his career of never coming face to face with an adult dragon. It wasn¡¯t something he could steal. It wasn¡¯t a fight he could win. And yet here he was, with only a few ancient stones between him and certain death.

    The dragon stalked towards the downed soldiers, many-horned head held high, sharp claws poised to strike.

    Janu¡¯s back hit a stone pillar.

    ¡®Ow!¡¯ the princess said.

    Turning with some reluctance, he realised he had squashed her hands against the pillar she was tied to.

    ¡®Sorry,¡¯ he said, and looked up the other two passages to see where Galnai and Ilarion were. Ilarion, apparently unphased, was pulling his sword from a soldier¡¯s neck. Galnai had crouched low in her passageway, dirt caking her hair and clothes, her dagger held at the ready for enemies that weren¡¯t there ¨C unless you counted the massive white dragon finishing off the soldiers beyond the entrance.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    ¡®Galnai!¡¯ he hissed, and beckoned her over when she looked his way.

    She came crouch-running towards him, as if being half her height would matter if one of those dragons decided to arch its neck over and look inside the stones. Would the soldiers out there count as starters, mains, and desserts, or would they be the final course?

    ¡®What do we do?¡¯ Janu asked when Galnai had joined him in the centre.

    Galnai eyed the skies, empty for now. ¡®We be quiet. I think I saw a little alcove we could hide in around here. Sheltered from above. Untie her and we¡¯ll go.¡¯

    The princess craned her neck this way and that in the direction of the dragon noises. ¡®What if they¡¯re after my dragon? If they¡¯re looking for her? Do you think they can smell her?¡¯

    ¡®No need.¡¯ They all jumped as Ilarion called out to them. He laughed when Janu tried to shush him and sheathed his sword. ¡®They knew to come here for her. That is what they paid you for, after all.¡¯

    ¡®They paid us?¡¯ Janu¡¯s eyebrows shot so high he could feel them tugging at the rest of his face. He pointed to the white dragon, which had just delicately picked the tack from a dead horse and eaten it whole. ¡®The dragons? Since when did they use coins?¡¯ He felt a sudden, suicidal urge to run out and check them for pockets.

    ¡®Well, they don¡¯t really use them.¡¯ Ilarion took his helmet off an examined it ¨C it had a big scratch along one side where an arrow must have grazed it. ¡®But some of them have lived over a thousand years. They collect bits and pieces here and there.¡¯

    Even Janu¡¯s landlord wouldn¡¯t have described bezin as bits and pieces, and he had active earnings.

    ¡®Wait.¡¯ Galnai was shaking her head. It was the first time she had addressed Ilarion directly. ¡®You can communicate with them?¡¯

    ¡®Of course! They have a very detailed language when you take the trouble to speak to them, quite similar to some ancient human tongues.¡¯ He bobbed on his feet like an excited schoolchild, then reddened when he realised he was doing it. ¡®They speak most of the modern languages too, of course. They travel a lot.¡¯

    ¡®As do you,¡¯ said Galnai. ¡®How the hell did you go from being a levy troop to a messenger for dragons? And here, of all places!¡¯

    Janu eyed the two of them, not willing to interrupt so he didn¡¯t miss whatever history he had missed between them, but also distinctly aware of the dragons outside that were still dangerous no matter how many languages they spoke and how much they had paid them.

    Ilarion let out a heavy breath and met her gaze. For the first time, neither of them looked away. ¡®I was captured, the very first battle they threw us into. No great surprise there. And for all the good our lord ever did us, well, I swore loyalty to the prince the first chance I got. Most of us levies did ¨C the ones who still lived and weren¡¯t stubbornly holding onto...¡¯ He shook his head. ¡®I don¡¯t even know what they were holding onto. I think they just preferred death to change.

    ¡®In any case, I did well. The prince made me one of his bodyguard a couple of years later, and just over a year ago he tasked me to come here to learn what I could of the dragons. So here I am.¡¯

    Galnai made no response, just examined the man with narrowed eyes.

    Janu glanced outside to see the white dragon watching them with interest. ¡®Brave of you to assume they wouldn¡¯t eat you.¡¯

    ¡®I did observe them for some time first. I...¡¯ Ilarion bit back the rest of his words, rocking forwards on his toes as if it had been a very physical restraint from launching into more explanation. ¡®It would be best if I introduced you, I think. And better still if you untie the hatchling and the princess first.¡¯

    ¡®Yes, I like that idea,¡¯ the princess said, nodding her head with great enthusiasm. She wriggled her fingers where they were tied behind the pillar.

    Janu couldn¡¯t work out whether to be relieved or concerned that they were handing the princess to dragons instead of humans. For the hatchling, the difference was obvious. For her... He knew full well the cruelty of humans, but nothing of dragons besides their lethality and Ilarion¡¯s scant reassurances. But untying her was a positive sign, so he did as asked while Galnai unbound the dragon. When he stepped back, it was stretching its limbs and shaking out its wings, though its head always drifted back to watch the princess like an obedient dog.

    The princess rubbed her wrists, gave Ilarion an inquisitive look, then bounded along the passage towards the white dragon before any of them could react. The hatchling stumbled after her, its legs weak from being tied so long. They both stopped by the entrance, the princess peering out from behind the stone wall, the hatchling standing in the middle of it. It cocked its head this way and that, examining the larger white dragon which much the same curiosity as its bonded human.

    Ilarion stared after her and chuckled, then gestured for Janu and Galnai to follow him. They did so, although Janu couldn¡¯t muster anywhere near as much confidence as the princess. When a rumble sounded from the white dragon¡¯s throat, he almost turned back and ran. The green dragon had joined her and a stone-grey dragon sat off to one side, which meant the other way was probably clear now. But he certainly couldn¡¯t hope to outrun a dragon, even on horseback, if they chose to follow him. Maybe a moving target would be better sport.

    ¡®This is Ushuene-amaak,¡¯ said Ilarion, approaching the entrance, ¡®the eldest of all dragons and the closest to a leader you will find amongst them.¡¯ With the princess and the hatchling still blocking his path, he placed a hand on Popilia¡¯s shoulder. ¡®Go on. She won¡¯t bite.¡¯

    The hatchling emerged first, followed closely by Popilia and Ilarion. He made a low bow to the white dragon he had called Usuene-amaak. Noticing his actions, the princess performed a curtsy of her own.

    To Janu¡¯s astonishment, the dragon returned their gestures with a slow incline of her head, which was framed by an almost crown-like arrangement of four large, curbed horns. Gold and silver markings glinted from her feathers, and her golden eyes regarded them. When she spoke, her throat vibrated like a bird¡¯s and her mouth hung slightly ajar, but her lips didn¡¯t move.

    ¡®I thank you for the safe return of my daughter, Ilarion,¡¯ she said, her voice deep and melodic. In the next moment she lowered her head to the hatchling, examining it intently from all angles as its head turned to match her movements. When she was done, she flicked the end of her fluffy tail, and her next words were cooler. ¡®And by extension, these thieves you hired for the task.¡¯

    Janu froze. At once it hit him ¨C that all this time, the eggs he had been stealing were those of an intelligent race. That the hatchlings he had taken, the hatchlings that others bound to their will, were children taken from their parents. And one of them, twice the size of his house, was speaking to him now.

    ¡®I apologise that they have seen you,¡¯ Ilarion said. ¡®I had hoped that they weren¡¯t being followed.¡¯

    ¡®No matter. That is dealt with now.¡¯ Ushuene fixed her gaze more intently on Janu and Galnai. ¡®But they must come with us, now they know the truth. We will clean up here, and none will be the wiser.¡¯

    Janu opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it. No doubt if he refused to go with the dragons, he would simply become part of their ¡®clean up¡¯.

    Ilarion bowed his head. ¡®I will follow through the hidden pass with the horses.¡¯ And turning to Janu and Galnai, he said, ¡®Ride with them when they offer. They are hard to offend, but do at least try to be polite. You¡¯ll be safe with them, and I can answer any questions you may have when I catch up in a couple of weeks.¡¯

    Before he had finished his sentence, Ushuene two two great strides away from them, then leapt up into the sky and with one beat of her wings was away. The green dragon that had killed the soldiers on Janu¡¯s side of the stones paced closer and lay down. Its eyes, as far as Janu could judge their sentiment, held little kindness.

    With little other choice, they followed Ilarion¡¯s instructions and climbed onto the green dragon¡¯s back, all four of them clinging to whatever handholds they could find amidst the sparse spines that covered it. Ilarion himself had already emerged from the stones with the horses and their supplies, and the grey dragon was fastidiously piling corpses in one spot.

    Muscles bunched beneath them. The green dragon growled, stretched its wings out to either side and cleared the ground in one leap. Janu¡¯s heart leapt into his throat in the same moment. The ground rushed away beneath them.

    As they wheeled to follow the eldest of the dragons, flame burst from the mouth of the grey dragon left on the ground, licking over and consuming the pile of the empire¡¯s dead.

 12. The Realm of the Eldest

    Flying on the back of a dragon gave Janu some insight into how Ilarion¡¯s detailed map must have come about, with the shape of each mountain spine and glinting river laid bare below them. Only when they wheeled were such sights revealed. Otherwise, the green dragon¡¯s back was far too broad to offer a clear view of the world beneath. And, Janu found, he rather preferred to keep his gaze fixed on the rippling coat of feathers beneath his hands. The ground should never be so far away as that. To his relief, they spent much of the journey above the clouds, which cushioned the world below.

    When they passed back through the clouds, water droplets glistening all over, the dragon began a sweeping curve around the edge of a great lake. Janu couldn¡¯t help but stare at the view now.

    Dragons dotted the landscape. They lazed in the doorways of great buildings carved into the orange mountainside or fished and drank in the lake. A peculiar, musical hum filled the valley, wending through the rumbling conversation of its inhabitants. Trying to pick out the source of the music, Janu guessed it must be the series of precise holes and tubes carved into the rock face around them ¨C each time they passed, the hum grew louder. Either they caught the wind or the gust of passing dragon wings. The two were one and the same, really.

    They landed on a stone platform set into the ground above the lake, with a clear view of most of the valley. Janu didn¡¯t trust his legs, but managed to stay standing after sliding off the dragon¡¯s side. Galnai¡¯s face had taken in a greenish tinge, but the princess was grinning from ear to ear. Only the hatchling seemed unphased, swaying slightly in its usual manner by her feet.

    ¡®Thank you for¡ª¡¯ Janu began, but the dragon threw itself from the edge of the platform and flew away before he could finish.

    That left only the white dragon, Ushuene, who had reclined on a huge bench carved from the same rock as the platform.

    ¡®In the absence of my usual go-between,¡¯ she said, presumably referring to Ilarion, ¡®some explanation falls to me. This is Kimah-Kur, the heart of our society on this continent. You will not find its like elsewhere, nor will you find it at all should you attempt lead people to it.¡¯

    ¡®We wouldn¡¯t,¡¯ said Janu.

    She fixed him with her golden gaze. ¡®Would you not? Your livelihood is the theft of our eggs, of our hatchlings. Why would you not wish to profit from the greatest source of those?¡¯

    Janu looked down the slope at the dragons skimming the lake in search of fish. ¡®For a purely pragmatic answer: There are too many of you.¡¯ He turned back to her, his tongue dry and heavy in his mouth. ¡®Not that long ago, I thought stealing directly from the empire would be suicide. I think I have just readjusted my estimations. Taking any act against your kind, here, would be suicide a thousand times over.¡¯

    ¡®Yes, self-preservation is a powerful motivator.¡¯ She eyed the hatchling ¨C her daughter, Janu remembered ¨C by Popilia¡¯s side. ¡®Nonetheless, I will have you remain here until our work is done. There is no changing this. Too much is at stake. And what would be suicide for you would be a dark blow from your empire, with our own kin sent against us.¡¯

    Her words dredged the memory of that day in Tanaff from Janu¡¯s mind ¨C all those children separated from their parents for the empire¡¯s own ends. It was a story that always repeated. What the empire wanted, it took. What did not belong to it, it would twist to serve its purpose. Gods, he was beginning to sound like Fraidun. But Fraidun had been right. It almost would have been worth having Fraidun here with them, just to see his shock at the dragons¡¯ intelligence, at the knowledge he had been a cause of injustice for a people all along. That sort of knowledge might have driven the man mad.

    Just then, the princess piped up with a question. ¡®Why didn¡¯t you tell us? Why didn¡¯t you talk to us?¡¯

    Ushuene snaked her neck over to the princess. ¡®Why didn¡¯t you ask?¡¯ She left the question hanging for a moment before withdrawing a metre or so. ¡®Why is it the assumption that a living thing can be taken and changed before it is understood? Why is it that it must first protest?¡¯ She snorted. ¡®If you must know, whatever words we utter matter not. The very first dragon to be taken and bound was an adult. The draklings saw and relayed much of what happened that day. The battle was long, and his voice meant nothing to the sorcerer who bound him. Knowing he spoke did not stop them binding others.¡¯

    The princess opened and closed her mouth a few times, at a loss but stronger in the face of Ushuene¡¯s might than Janu would have expected of anyone her age.

    At last, when Ushuene had settled back into a comfortable position, the princess managed to ask, ¡®What¡¯s her name?¡¯

    Ushuene made a questioning rumble.

    ¡®Your daughter.¡¯ She gestured to the hatchling beside her. ¡®I don¡¯t know her name. She doesn¡¯t speak to me. I don¡¯t know if she can, if or she should be able to.¡¯

    The rumble caught as a hiss. ¡®Her name is Nazagin-pa. By rights she should be speaking now, yes, but the bond...¡¯ She shook her head slowly from side to side, and her lips pulled back to reveal the full length of her teeth. ¡¯I know not the extent of its magic. That is why we have taken these actions, why we waited for the bond to be formed before we recovered her. To study it.¡¯

    With these words, she again extended her neck and hovered above her daughter Nazagin, as if she could not quite bear crossing the extra distance to touch her.

    ¡®I am sorry, little one,¡¯ she said. ¡®This was the only way. We have tried others. Would that you could have known this and consented, before your hatching.¡¯

    Janu stood with his hands tucked into his belt, shuffling his feet. The princess was staring at her own, lost in thought, her face pale.

    It was Galnai who asked, ¡®So what happens now?¡¯

    Withdrawing from her assessment of Nazagin, Ushuene rose to her feet and extended one wing high in the air for a few seconds. ¡®For now, nothing. You rest. You regain your strength. You stay within the bounds of Kimah-Kur.¡¯ She moved her wing again, this time to gesture in a sweeping arc. ¡®You see around you our homes, each carved by our own hands. A few of these homes are currently unoccupied, either to death or to wandering¡¯s call. To you thieves we loan the home of Nazagin¡¯s father, who has returned to the land of his birth in the south east. Ilarion has used it during his time with us. You will be alone there, for now, but not unwatched.¡¯The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    Nodding, Janu eyed the entrances in the mountainside around them. With enough space for dragons to enter and move around, he dreaded to think how cold they must be come nightfall. And they wouldn¡¯t have their tents to shelter them until Ilarion arrived with the horses. Unless Ilarion had been allowed to make modifications, they would have to find enough firewood amongst the sparse shrubs to keep themselves warm.

    ¡®What about me?¡¯ the princess asked. Though her gaze had shifted from the floor, her face had grown paler.

    ¡®You will stay with Nazagin in the home of one of our shamans, Anshar-igdagalak.¡¯ Ushuene nodded behind them, and another dragon soared in to land near the princess. ¡®He will watch over you and observe the bond.¡¯

    This dragon was a mottled ochre and olive, much the same colour as the local dirt and hardy grasses. With all the feathery fronds dangling from his hide, he reminded Janu of an old banyan tree, and the broad scales visible beneath the feathers on his belly seemed like gnarled bark. Four tusk-like outgrowths sprouted from his lower jaw, and spikes jutted sideways from the end of his tail.

    Anshar inclined his head to Ushuene. ¡®Shall I take them now?¡¯

    ¡®Please do,¡¯ said Ushuene, ruffling her feathers. ¡®I would think on our plans in peace.¡¯

    ¡®Of course.¡¯ He turned to the rest of them. ¡®Follow me, then.¡¯ Nodding to Janu and Galnai, he added, ¡®Your lodgings are on the way to my home. I will show you the path.¡¯

    Instead of offering them a lift, Anshar walked off in the direction of the mountains. Janu rushed to catch up, but the dragon kept to a reasonable pace that only demanded a fast walk ¨C more of a struggle for the princess¡¯ short legs than his. Nazagin bounded along beside her like a newborn colt, unsure of the required speed.

    When Janu glanced back over his shoulder, he caught Ushuene staring back. He imagined his nieces or nephews being born without a name, a collar put around their neck, their mind bound to the whims of another.

    He wondered why the dragons had not yet burned the world of men to the ground.

    <hr>

    Their new home turned out to be well furnished, for humans at least. Janu had no idea what constituted furnishings amongst the dragons, beyond their stone benches. In any case, Ilarion had in his time here built a series of enclosed spaces from timber and cloth. Reluctant to intrude, Janu searched no further than finding tools and his stockpile of materials, which they used to fashion another three spaces alongside his.

    Janu did most of the fashioning, in fact. As he shaved and cut and hammered, Galnai wandered through Ilarion¡¯s space, saying nothing, only occasionally rustling a piece of paper to suggest her presence. Clearly she did not have the same compunction towards intrusion as Janu ¨C or her curiosity drove her past it. He did mind, in any case. This work reminded him of long days spent with his family when they first moved to Athon, of all the sweat and love poured into that house. If the dragons wouldn¡¯t let him leave, he wondered, would they let him send his bezin to his family? He doubted it.

    In the two weeks before Ilarion¡¯s return, they settled into a routine. Each morning, one of them would forage food to supplement whatever the dragons gave them, and the other would go in search of firewood. At midday they joined the princess for lunch. Janu and Galnai never spoke to her, not really, but they had drifted together as humans seeking human company.

    Popilia, for her part, had very little to do. She always looked at Anshar, her feet tapping with the energy of pent-up questions, but never asked them. From what Janu could tell, she spent most of the day clambering over the valley with Nazagin, earning dark looks from the dragons she passed. Nazagin herself had grown. Her wings already had a fluffy coat of feathers ¨C not yet ready for flight, but less scrawny than before.

    Galnai liked to walk through the terraced farms the dragons cultivated and watch them at work, digging furrows with more ease than any ploughman could hope for. Janu didn¡¯t see the appeal. It reminded him too much of how easily those claws could slice his own flesh.

    They filled the rest of their days with makeshift boardgames they put together from scraps of wood and bone, and they were playing one of their regular games by the entrance when Ilarion arrived at last. They heard the clip of the horses¡¯ hooves first, then their jumbled shadows fell across the mouth of the cave.

    ¡®I see you¡¯ve settled in,¡¯ Ilarion said. He eyed their additions to his space and gave a small nod, apparently satisfied.

    ¡®We haven¡¯t had much choice,¡¯ said Galnai, not looking up from the board.

    Ilarion led the horses in and tied them to a hook on the left wall before coming to squat beside them. At some point he had removed his armour in favour of the thick tunic that had lain beneath. He smelled of horse and woodsmoke and damp wool.

    ¡®Well,¡¯ he said, ¡®any lack of choice you had ends now.¡¯

    Janu perked up. Even Galnai lowered the piece she had been holding and looked to Ilarion for explanation.

    Ilarion¡¯s gaze flicked between the both of them. ¡®The dragons are happy you haven¡¯t misbehaved in my absence. They want your help with the next stage of their plan.¡¯

    They hadn¡¯t paid for the last stage yet, but Janu wasn¡¯t about to point that out now. Besides, he couldn¡¯t shift the feeling of their earnings being somehow unclean, despite the fact their unwitting theft of a sentient creature had, this time, been in its favour.

    ¡®They want us to steal another egg?¡¯ Galnai asked.

    ¡®No, not an egg.¡¯ He withdrew from his belt pouch a small leather-bound book and flipped through in search something. ¡®Some time ago, the empire stole an artefact from the dragons ¨C the horns of one of their greatest shamans, long dead and the only dragon whose soul never transferred to another after their death.¡¯

    When he found the page he was looking for, he turned the book around and showed them. Janu and Galnai both leaned in to inspect it. Two wide, blade-like horns had been carefully sketched in charcoal, with indecipherable patterns drawn in bands along their length alongside a series of knocks and scratches.

    ¡®This is what they described to me. The horns used to form part of a shrine, of sorts, outside the bounds of Kimah-Kur. The shaman¡¯s apprentices had carved his life story into his horns after his death, in lieu of his memories passing on directly. It became a sort of pilgrimage site. And then the empire took them.¡¯ He flipped the book shut again. ¡®The dragons believe they have been using the horns as an amplifier for their magic. Without them, the bonds between dragon and man might be more easily broken.¡¯

    Janu nodded. If it helped, why not? ¡®Do they know where they are now?¡¯

    ¡®That¡¯s where it gets difficult.¡¯ Ilarion grimaced. ¡®The brains behind the binding magic is the imperial high sorcerer, Critobulus Ypsilanti. If he keeps them anywhere, it will be under guard in his main residence, which is the imperial palace in Chorus. It won¡¯t be easy.¡¯

    Galnai scoffed. ¡®Kidnapping their princess "wasn¡¯t easy", but at least that was out in the open. And it was still crazy. This is outright insane.¡¯

    ¡®We should do it, though,¡¯ said Janu. He kept his voice quiet, scared that anything too loud would shatter his certainty. ¡®We¡¯d be doing something good, for a change.¡¯

    ¡®You sound like Fraidun.¡¯ She flipped the bone of her game piece between her fingers. ¡®And he thought our stealing was good because it got dragons out of the empire¡¯s hands into others, for the most part.¡¯

    ¡®And for the least part, it bought him all the whores he wanted.¡¯ Janu shook his head, noting how Ilarion had raised his eyebrows at their exchange. But think of it, though: think of what it means for the empire if they can¡¯t bind dragons anymore.¡¯

    ¡®Sounds like war, to me.¡¯

    ¡®Sounds like an equal footing.¡¯

    Putting the piece down with a sharp clack, Galnai turned to Ilarion. ¡®You said stealing this just makes the bond easier to break, right? It won¡¯t actually solve the problem?¡¯

    ¡®It¡¯s the first step to winning their freedom,¡¯ Ilarion said, and set his jaw in determination. ¡®And I¡¯ll be going to retrieve it myself. I¡¯m no thief, but I¡¯ve been around. I can try. Whether the two of you choose to join me or not is for you to decide.¡¯

    An unreadable expression that passed between Ilarion and Galnai as they held each other¡¯s gaze, and they left it to Janu to break the silence.

    ¡®We¡¯ll need to get a few more people on board,¡¯ he said, plan-building gears already grinding into motion in his brain. ¡®More supplies, too, and local knowledge. And I have a few things I need to sort in Athon first. But you can count me in.¡¯

    Galnai nodded to both of them, a mute but steadfast acceptance, and Janu¡¯s heartrate climbed.

    This was the big one. The heist to end all heists. If they could pull this off, they could do anything.

 13. A Bond Unbroken

    The day after the Khunuchanian man returned to Kimah-Kur was the day Popilia¡¯s new routine finally broke. Where before she might have woken to an empty hall or the low humming of her watcher¡¯s songs as he pottered about his home, today she woke to Anshar simply watching. Nazagin woke the moment she did, immediately alert, her downy hide shifting by Popilia¡¯s arm. They had slept beside each other every night since coming here, which had given Popilia more comfort and warmth than the little bedding the dragons had given her.

    ¡®Has something happened?¡¯ Popilia asked, worried at first that she had done something wrong.

    Anshar seemed relaxed enough. He shook his great head at her question. ¡®I would like to try something, that is all. Now that you have settled in here. It¡¯s nothing to be afraid of. I just want you and Nazagin to complete a... test, of a sort, while I make notes. Are you happy with that?¡¯

    Popilia blinked. ¡®Of course.¡¯

    ¡®Just what I wanted to hear!¡¯ he said and sprang to his feet, tail lashing in excitement. ¡®Stay there.¡¯  His wings brushed the ceiling, which had been painted in bright swirls and carved to match the stars¡¯ positions. Popilia wondered if he was going to look at his stars again, as he liked to do for much of the night, but the sun had already risen. Instead he made his way to his curved, multi-layered workbench with its piles of pots and bowls and dried ingredients.

    Wishing she had a change of clothes, Popilia stood and took a few paces to the side to see what Anshar was doing. Mixing something, by the look and sound of it. It must have been an easy recipe or one he already had prepared, for he turned around with a bowl cradled in one hand almost as soon as she had moved.

    ¡®What¡¯s that?¡¯ she asked. She wished she had asked what the test would entail.

    Placing the bowl on the ground in front of them, Anshar settled back into his previous spot. He dipped a claw in whatever mixture it contained, coating it white, and examined Nazagin while humming under his breath.

    ¡®This is a... catalyst, I suppose you could call it.¡¯ He reached out towards Nazagin, who shied back with a questioning glance to Popilia. ¡®No need to be afraid. It¡¯s only a dye, like on the ceiling.¡¯

    Popilia laid a reassuring hand on Nazagin, wishing she could speak, wishing she gave some indication of even understanding speech. The hatchling understood her reassurance well enough, though. She stayed still while Anshar drew his whitened claw in detailed patterns over her face, neck and chest. They appeared almost invisible except where they crossed over the pink and purple accents on Nazagin¡¯s hide. When he was done, he repeated the same patterns on his own feathers. Without a mirror, he managed to make them perfectly symmetrical and perfect matches for each other, even considering the difference in scale.

    ¡®But what does it do?¡¯ she asked.

    ¡®It gives me a certain insight into Nazagin¡¯s thoughts and feelings. So when you do something, or tell her to do something, I may be able to tell how the bond acts upon her.¡¯

    ¡®Can you give me the same markings?¡¯ She didn¡¯t like the idea of someone else being able to read her thoughts, and she wasn¡¯t sure it was fair to Nazagin, but what if it was the only way they could communicate both ways?

    ¡®No, child,¡¯ said Anshar, then paused for a moment, thinking. ¡®No, not just yet. Although it is an interesting proposition, thank you. We may try it another day, depending on what I learn here.¡¯

    Then he began singing. He did this so often that Popilia couldn¡¯t tell if he had simply become distracted, but after a couple of lines, the white markings flared yellow. As soon as they faded again, he stopped and nodded.

    ¡®Come with me, then,¡¯ he said. ¡®Let us walk for a while.¡¯

    So Popilia and Nazagin followed him outside, unsure what this so-called test would entail and when it would begin, if it hadn¡¯t already. From the curious looks Anshar kept giving them, Popilia suspected it had.

    In the course of their walk, Anshar asked Popilia to instruct Nazagin ¨C to run in a circle, to flap her growing wings, to go and fetch that stick over there. Each time, without fail and without hesitation, Nazagin complied, and a frown deepened on Anshar¡¯s brow.

    ¡®Do we have to keep doing this?¡¯ Popilia asked after the last task, as they watched Nazagin swimming in the hot springs above the lake. Either it hadn¡¯t washed the markings away or they were no longer essential for Anshar¡¯s magic ¨C she would have taken their disappearance as a convenient end to the test, otherwise. Her skin crawled at the gaze of the other dragons. Some had quit their bathing at the sight of their group and flown elsewhere.

    ¡®Yes, we must.¡¯ Anshar gazed down at her, the markings lending his face a fiercer appearance than usual, belied by his kindly eyes. ¡®I can sense your discomfort echoed in Nazagin¡¯s mind. Know that no matter your responsibility for this ill, your presence here and your willingness to help me is the key to righting it. Or so I hope.¡¯

    He turned his head to the sky and held it there as if searching for something. Popilia wondered if he could see stars even in the daylight.

    At length, he said, ¡®There are so many factors at play here. It is very rare that we shamans ever have to delve into human magic. It used to be that it was not so different from our own. But this binding magic...¡¯ He shook his head slowly, lowering it as he did, his neck snaking from side to side. ¡®It is a different breed. What I would give to know the mind of your Critobulus. My magic is already separate to that of my kin. My knowledge is more of the stars and less of the earth. Yet it is still far different to his.¡¯

    ¡®I don¡¯t like Critobulus.¡¯ Popilia scratched at her sleeve, shivering in a chill breeze that cut through the warmth of the springs. She wouldn¡¯t want to see inside that man¡¯s mind.

    ¡®Why is that?¡¯

    Looking up into his eyes, she shrugged. She tried to sort through her memories of him. The way he acted. The way he spoke.

    ¡®When he talks to you,¡¯ she said at last, ¡®he doesn¡¯t talk for conversation. Not out of any interest in you, nor out of any need to talk. He just talks because he¡¯s expected to, and he¡¯ll speak the amount he¡¯s expected to and no more. Whenever else he speaks, he isn¡¯t speaking with you, but at you. That¡¯s not to mention his concubines.¡¯

    ¡®Oh?¡¯

    ¡®He has three of them. No one ever sees them, but everyone knows. It¡¯s not... It¡¯s not the done thing.¡¯The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡®Hmm.¡¯ Anshar dipped his claw in the water, cleaning off the white dye that had stuck to it. ¡®I shall have to take your word for it. The habits of dragons and humans are somewhat different, I imagine. But I have no doubt your feelings are well founded. Often when our guts warn us of someone, it is right. Not always, of course, and it bears examination, but often enough.¡¯

    Did she need to examine her feelings towards Critobulus? It was he who had first bound dragons. If he knew about them when he did, like Ushuene had said, what did that say about him? With his attitude, she doubted her parents could have forced him. The thought of her parents knowing about the dragons and going ahead anyway sent a cold shiver through her gut. They wouldn¡¯t, surely. Not if they had a choice. Not if it wasn¡¯t the best option.

    ¡®Call Nazagin back,¡¯ Anshar said. ¡®There is one more thing I would like to try today.¡¯ He kept his voice soft. Perhaps he once again sensed some measure of Popilia¡¯s unease through his view of the bond.

    Nodding, Popilia brought the hatchling splashing back in to the rocks at the edge of the springs, where she lay down and crossed her forearms over each other.

    ¡®Now, Popilia, you may not like this next task, but please be assured that nothing permanent will come of it. Whatever happens may be fixed, and whatever pain there is will be brief.¡¯

    A spike of panic shot through Popilia and Nazagin¡¯s head shot up in response.

    ¡®What are you going to do to me?¡¯ she asked.

    ¡®I? Nothing. These are all tests of the bonds between you and Nazagin. I play no part in it. No, what I would like you to do is lay your palm flat, like so, and instruct Nazagin to cut across it with her claw. Fast, and not too deep. Just enough to draw blood. It is important that you will this to happen, that you go into it with as little reluctance as possible. You want her to do this.¡¯

    Popilia really didn¡¯t. She looked down at her hand, then at Nazagin. It sounded like Anshar could heal her as soon as it happened, at least, but still...

    ¡®Will you do this for me, Popilia?¡¯

    It would help. She told herself that. Whatever Anshar had her doing now might help make Nazagin free again. As much as Popilia had dreamed of flying on dragonback as her heart willed, she didn¡¯t want her romantic notions coming at someone else¡¯s expense. So she nodded. She lined up all the arguments in her head and tried to convince herself she wanted this, that it was just another court ritual with a little bit of added pain, or a needle stitching a wound shut. Necessary, and bearable.

    She held her hand out in front of her, palm up, and asked Nazagin to cut it.

    This time, Nazagin didn¡¯t comply. She climbed unsteadily to her feet, but just stood there, rocking back and forth as if trying to move with her feet caught. Her head snaked this way and that and her wings drooped. When she began shaking, Popilia looked to Anshar for guidance. Her heart ached in her chest, but she tried to ignore it, to still will her command as instructed.

    Anshar didn¡¯t notice her gaze for some time, his attention too caught in Nazagin¡¯s behaviour, the light behind his green eyes whirling. His nose inched back, second by second, until his chin rested on his neck like that of a swan. Only then did his gaze shift to Popilia.

    A shudder passed through him. ¡®That is enough, child. You need go no further.¡¯

    With a relieved smile, Popilia stopped all her efforts and ran to Nazagin¡¯s side instead. She threw her arms around the hatchling¡¯s neck and buried her face in the soft down.

    ¡®I¡¯m sorry,¡¯ she whispered. Even if Nazagin couldn¡¯t understand her words, she hoped she could understand how truly she felt sorry. ¡®I¡¯ll find you the biggest fish today. I promise.¡¯

    She had never fished, but the thieves had taken to fishing the lake themselves. Maybe one of them would teach her. A dragon could easily get them all the fish they wanted, but the thieves, she guessed, had needed a way to pass the time. For her part, Popilia felt she needed to do this with her own hands, to make up for how she had treated Nazagin herself. Besides, her tutors had never taught her to fish. It could be fun.

    ¡®That¡¯s all I need from you, as of now,¡¯ said Anshar. He took a few steps forwards until he could immerse his whole body in the steaming waters of the spring and did so, washing clean the white markings. When he emerged, he continued. ¡®I recommend you both bathe in the springs. Take the rest of the day to relax while I work through my findings. I will need peace for that. With luck, I will come up with something else we can try tomorrow.¡¯

    ¡®Do you know how it works?¡¯ Popilia asked.

    ¡®Not yet.¡¯ A deep rumble in Anshar¡¯s throat set the water rippling about him. ¡®But I will break that bond, no matter how long it takes.¡¯

    Nodding, Popilia took her outer clothes off and slipped into the water beside him. ¡®I hope so too.¡¯

    She stayed there for some time after Anshar had left, wringing out her underclothes and spreading them out on a rock to dry in the sun. When they had, and she had scrubbed all the markings off Nazagin¡¯s hide, she dressed again and left to find the thieves. By now it was midday, and the two of them had taken their usual spot on some rocks by the side of the lake.

    ¡®Where¡¯s Ilarion?¡¯ she asked after struggling to remember the man¡¯s name for a few steps. Since his return, Popilia had wanted to do nothing but ask him questions about the dragons ¨C those she thought too stupid to ask Anshar, mostly ¨C but he had been busy with the thieves. Well, that and she always found herself too embarrassed to ask whenever he wasn¡¯t busy.

    Janu looked up from his bowl of fruit. His beard and moustache had lost their trimness during his time here and were getting to be as bushy as his eyebrows.

    ¡®He¡¯s preparing,¡¯ he said after swallowing a mouthful. ¡®We¡¯re leaving soon, and he¡¯s coming with us. He¡¯s put himself in charge of sorting the provisions for our journey. Always nice to have a volunteer.¡¯

    ¡®Oh.¡¯ The thought of losing her only human companions hadn¡¯t occurred to Popilia until now. Her heart sank in her chest. It wouldn¡¯t be too bad. She didn¡¯t need people ¨C or not human people, when dragons were people too. But only Anshar would speak to her, and now even he was busy.

    Janu¡¯s smile softened as he read her face. ¡®I suppose you must be missing home, and your parents.¡¯

    Realising she still hadn¡¯t sat down, Popilia perched on the nearest rock. Nazagin curled up at her feet.

    ¡®Not really,¡¯ she said, but she missed the food and her clothes, and a few of the handmaids who were close to her own age. Home itself was polished and clean, a palace full of wonders... but familiar wonders. Here was new and exciting. How could she miss home while everything here was so interesting? She pushed her foot along the ground, making a little divot of sand. ¡®I don¡¯t see my parents often anyway. Not outside big meals and formal events. Maybe once or twice a year.¡¯ She always got excited to see them, but she realised now that there wasn¡¯t really anything to miss. There was some subtle difference between missing a thing and longing for it to begin with.

    ¡®I guess being a princess isn¡¯t as fun as it sounds,¡¯ Galnai said.

    Popilia snorted. She didn¡¯t have to see her parents to have fun. ¡®I just wish I could go back and tell them about the dragons. I¡¯d get them to kick Critobulus out. No, I¡¯d make him free all the dragons first.¡¯

    Raising an eyebrow but not looking up from her bowl, Galnai said, ¡®You overestimate your importance if you think they would agree to that.¡¯

    ¡®Of course I¡¯m important!¡¯ Popilia straightened, indignant, but the words sounded stupid and small in her mouth. ¡®If I weren¡¯t, I wouldn¡¯t be marrying a prince.¡¯

    Janu stopped with his spoon halfway to his lips and glanced between her and Galnai. ¡®It was my impression that all princesses eventually married princes, or kings, or some other man with a fancy title.¡¯

    ¡®Well, this prince is extra important. Prince Revor. He¡¯s from Khunuchan. I¡¯ll be the first Dreganor princess to marry into Khunuchanian nobility. That matters.¡¯ Her tutors had told her as much.

    ¡®It does, does it?¡¯ Galnai dropped her bowl with a clatter onto the rock beside her, leaving it to wobble in place. ¡®For sure, the parents you never see must love you greatly. The last I heard of your beloved prince, he was married and his wife with child. He would be five and thirty years now, by my count.¡¯

    Before Popilia could reply, the woman stood and left, taking long strides up the side of the valley. But she couldn¡¯t have replied if she wanted to. Her insides had frozen. There were no words in her head, only the echoes of childish dreams and romantic tales. More of those dreams had been about whatever adventures might await her and her dragon in the wilds of Khunuchan than the prince she would be travelling there for. Now all those dreams turned grey and tainted.

    The first of many tears rolled down her cheek. She barely noticed, and she only vaguely registered Janu coming to put his arm around her. All she truly noticed was the constant heat of the collar around her neck, the delicate shackle she could never remove, except in death.

 14. Combing for Cast-outs

    Getting out of the mountains took much less time and effort than getting into them. Janu wished they could have flown all the way to Chorus on dragonback, but too close into Lavician territory and the dragon guard would come to investigate. They didn¡¯t bother wild dragons on the edges of their land ¨C why scare away their best source of new dragons? ¨C but otherwise they liked to keep the skies clear. Especially now that many of their reluctant subjects had acquired their own dragons.

    To avoid their patrols and prying eyes, they instead had to set down in a tall forest north of the River Kim ¨C the same river they had followed into the mountains all those weeks ago. They had to make do without their horses. While they weren¡¯t pressed for time, Ilarion preferred to retrieve the artefact sooner rather than later, and Janu wanted to spend as much time preparing as possible. Leading the horses out on foot made little sense. Having a dragon fly them out would draw too much attention, if it didn¡¯t just scare the horses to death.

    Thankfully, boating downriver always beat a horse.

    They came ashore at a port not far past the old university, recently refurbished and extended by new imperial money. This was far enough from the estuary that they didn¡¯t have to deal with the smell of the fish market, though the wind wafted strong gusts their way from time to time.

    Ilarion dodged past a group of dockworkers stacking crates from a nearby barge, turning to address Janu and Galnai over his shoulder. ¡®I¡¯ll find us a place to stay. You take a look around, do whatever you need to do. We¡¯ll meet back at the university steps an hour from sunset, yes?¡¯

    Finding a clear spot, Janu held his hand up to the sky and judged the day¡¯s remaining hours. It was perhaps an hour and a half past midday now, which left plenty of time to explore the city.

    He nodded. ¡®We¡¯ll see you there.¡¯ If they didn¡¯t specify a meeting point, they would never find each other again in the chaos of this city. With all the new money pouring into Chorus since it had upgraded from royal to imperial capital, it had more traffic and more new construction than it knew what to do with. Ilarion only had to go a few dozen paces before disappearing into the crowd ¨C no mean feat for a man of his height.

    ¡®Where do you want to start?¡¯ Galnai asked. Her mood had been black since her revelation to the princess, and she had refused to discuss the subject again. Though Janu hadn¡¯t had a chance to ask without Ilarion present. Maybe he would try his luck today.

    Janu read the signpost by the dock exit, thinking. ¡®It¡¯s a bit early to hit the taverns,¡¯ he said, leaning close to Galnai so he didn¡¯t have to explain his thoughts to everyone nearby. ¡®How about we just walk for a bit, get a feel for the place, overhear what we can?¡¯

    ¡®It¡¯s as good a start as any, I suppose. Should we split up to cover more ground?¡¯

    ¡®No no, no need for that.¡¯ Janu scrambled for an excuse. ¡®You have better eyes than I do. I wouldn¡¯t like to miss anything.¡¯

    Galnai rolled her eyes. ¡®And you have more ears ¨C a fine pair we make. Lead on, then.¡¯

    They wound their way into the bowls of Chorus like the tourists they were ¨C completely aimless, stopping to read every signpost and dawdling past each market stall. Their true aim likely wouldn¡¯t be serviced like this. They needed rumours, gossip, anything that might give them some hint of how to get into the imperial palace. A marketplace had plenty of gossip, that was for sure, but Janu doubted it would be anything useful. Not in such an open space where any guard might overhear. So he kept a closer eye on the walls for any graffiti that hadn¡¯t yet been cleaned up. That was where he would find the real gems.

    As they walked, Galnai kept her gaze on the dark alleys and corners, on the shiftier denizens of the imperial capital. Janu had once assumed that this was her knack ¨C spotting the underbelly in plain sight. Her explanation had been simpler. As a countryside girl, she just noticed more of everything in the city, and there was a lower bar to the behaviour that put her on edge.

    A countryside girl. Janu didn¡¯t know much more about her than that. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, at the ear she had lost for thieving across the sea.

    ¡®So,¡¯ he said as they passed out of one of the streets on the edge of the fabric market onto a quieter path, ¡®how is it that you know Ilarion, exactly?¡¯

    The question annoyed Galnai enough that she stopped in her tracks, huffed and glared at him before moving on. He thought that would be the end of it, but then she said, ¡®He¡¯s my husband.¡¯

    Janu blinked. He had noticed a plain ring on her left hand before, but he had always assumed her a widow, or that she wore it just to ward off the attention of other men.

    What had happened there? What did he even ask as a follow-up? He had so many questions, and could see about half of them earning him a cuff around the head. Galnai didn¡¯t elaborate, and it took him another two streets to dredge up something safe to ask.

    ¡®You said he was a levy troop. I take it that was the last you saw of him?¡¯

    She nodded and came to a stop before a piece of graffiti ¨C nothing insightful, just a vulgar drawing of some imperial official. Her eyes focussed somewhere beyond it, nearer to Khunuchan than Chorus.

    ¡®Our lord was recruiting for a war against Yerediv,¡¯ she said. ¡®None of us wanted that war. None of us gave a shit about Yerediv. But they were rich and powerful and the lords got scared. So they raised the levies and marched off. They came through our village the week after we were married.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m sorry.¡¯ The words came to Janu instinctively, and did not match the hard, uncaring lines of Galnai¡¯s face.

    Her face darkened, and muscles worked silently in her throat. ¡®I don¡¯t remember if I was sad or not, after he left. Life went on. He could have pissed off whoring around the continent for the rest of his life and I wouldn¡¯t have cared a toss if it weren¡¯t for...¡¯ She shook her head and loosened some of the tension that had been gathering in her shoulders. It made her look smaller, somehow. ¡®A month or two after he left, it was his father who came to my bed.¡¯ She muttered something long and bitter in Khunuchanian.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Janu hooked his thumbs into his belt and gripped the leather hard, wishing he hadn¡¯t asked, wishing he could find something to say now that he had.

    Before he could think of anything, Galnai met his gaze. ¡®He¡¯s dead, for what it¡¯s worth. I killed him. Not long after the bastard told the bailiff¡¯ ¨C she tapped the skin near her missing ear ¨C ¡®to just take the one ear, so I¡¯d still look pretty on one side.¡¯

    Unable to hold her gaze, Janu examined the crude graffiti. ¡®Is that why you were so blunt with the princess?¡¯

    ¡®Life isn¡¯t going to hold her hand. Her parents certainly aren¡¯t. Why should I?¡¯ With a sad shake of her head, she set off down the street again. ¡®She¡¯s probably imagined some fairy-tale romance. She won¡¯t find any. All that man will ever do is use her.¡¯

    Another thought struck Janu then: Did Ilarion know about any of this? He didn¡¯t have chance to ask before Galnai stopped again and cocked her head at an advert painted in neat block letters on the wall.

    ¡®Sounds like a start, don¡¯t you think?¡¯ she asked. The darkness had slipped from her body, but lingered in her eyes.

    The advert was old enough to have acquired a layer of grime, but not to have lost its edges, with the largest text at the top reading ¡®Former palace guards ¨C your skills are not unwanted¡¯. Below it, the same hand had detailed job opportunities and the address of someone to apply to.

    Janu scratched his beard. ¡®Well, it¡¯s about the palace, sure, but I doubt any of those guards will tell us much.¡¯

    ¡®It¡¯s this that caught my eye.¡¯ She pointed to ¡®unwanted¡¯. ¡®Sort of implies they didn¡¯t leave by choice, doesn¡¯t it?¡¯

    ¡®Or that no one wants to hire snooty retired imperials.¡¯

    ¡®Doubtful.¡¯ She traced the outline of another word that someone had attempted to scrub off before repainting the advert. It featured a distinctly imperial slur that set Janu¡¯s hackles rising. His landlord had used it once or twice.

    So none of these former palace guards were from the empire¡¯s core kingdoms. How convenient. The crown must have been cleaning its ranks.

    ¡®Let¡¯s pay a visit to the taverns first,¡¯ Janu said. ¡®Pick the ones in quarters with fewer imperials, see if we can find any of these former guards. If that doesn¡¯t work, we can watch for people paying this lot a visit.¡¯ He nodded to the address. Loitering there would be too obvious, but a fair last resort. The more disgruntled the former guard, he imagined, the more likely they would find them at a tavern rather than proactively looking for work. Even if they had work, angry tongues had a way of gravitating towards alcohol. Just look at Fraidun.

    They visited three taverns in turn, each one taking them further into the belly of the city, closer to the high-density tenements near the noisy seaside docks. None of them gave them any leads, besides the last, where a group of foppish students had been loudly complaining about the number of their peers from outside the core kingdoms. If those people weren¡¯t good enough for the imperial palace, why were they accepted at the imperial university?

    Janu and Galnai slipped out of that tavern upon seeing an angry group of those people head towards the students¡¯ table. The shouts and clattering of a fresh fight followed them into the street. It served as confirmation, though. They were on the right track.

    The next two taverns turned up nothing. By now they were well within the poorer districts. Fresh graffiti cursed the empire in every alley and wherever the guards hadn¡¯t had cleaned lately. It came as no great surprise to Janu that many of the people they passed were from Aveshi families, just like him. Most hailed from the neighbouring Medician and Ijaran kingdoms ¨C crossing a land border was much easier than crossing the sea, after all.

    ¡®Two more,¡¯ Janu said as he spotted the crooked sign for the next tavern. ¡®Then it¡¯ll be time to head back.¡¯ He wasn¡¯t looking forwards to feigning ignorance in front of Ilarion now that he knew Galnai¡¯s full story.

    While this tavern seemed popular, it had no name to speak of. The written portion of its sign had broken off, leaving only a stylised painting of a four-winged drakling wobbling drunkenly by an empty mug as tall as itself. On pushing open the creaking door, a wall of sound and smell greeted them: laughter and singing and the stamping of feet where two men played lyras by a roaring fire; chatter from the patrons crowded around every table; ale both fresh and spilled; the stench of hot drunken men and salt-sprayed clothes. Thick spice hung in the air from whatever food they offered here, and Janu¡¯s stomach growled.

    ¡®This one¡¯s cosy,¡¯ he said, but from Galnai¡¯s sour expression he gathered the crowd unnerved more than enticed her.

    Finding a quieter corner, they ordered some small drinks and snacks and tuned their senses to the chaos around them. It didn¡¯t take long to single out a point of interest ¨C a man three tables away from them had gathered quite a crowd, their chairs all turned his way as they nursed their drinks.

    ¡®Had one for every meal of the day, he did,¡¯ the man was saying, his straggly brown hair dipping into his neighbour¡¯s ale. ¡®Took the small one for breakfast, the tall one for lunch and the fat one for dinner. Liked to take all three on feast days, I heard. Now where he found hisself girls like that, I don¡¯t know, but he¡¯s their head wizard, ain¡¯t he, so maybe he magicked ¡®em up!¡¯ He slapped his neighbour on the back hard enough that he coughed up a mouthful of drink. ¡®All it takes is a bit of magic and them lot don¡¯t care what you do, do they?¡¯

    A chorus of mutters made its way around his audience, though Janu noted it was mostly jealous remarks about the distribution of women ¨C even from some of the women present.

    ¡®You on about Critobulus?¡¯ Janu asked.

    ¡®Aye, that¡¯s the one. The holier-than-thou freak.¡¯ The man scowled, creasing a deep scar on his jaw. ¡®You know him?¡¯

    ¡®In passing. Buy you a drink and we can compare notes.¡¯

    With a toothy grin, the man checked the level of his mug, downed the contents, and nodded to Janu. ¡®Those are some notes I can get behind.¡¯

    Remembering the last time he had turned his back on Galnai and a drunk stranger, Janu sent her to the bar and made space for their new companion. He made his way over, his beer gut more obvious than the hint of former muscles. The crowd he had made around his former table dispersed, each to their own conversation.

    ¡®Take it you¡¯re one of the guards the palace just fired?¡¯ Janu asked.

    He nodded, one eye on the bar. ¡®Gave ¡®em the best years of my life, even changed my name for them. They just kicked me out like that meant nothing. Bastards, the lot of ¡®em.¡¯

    ¡®What is your name?¡¯

    ¡®Heketas.¡¯ He returned his full attention to Janu. ¡®And proud of it, even if they¡¯re not. So how¡¯d you know Critobulus? I don¡¯t recognise you from the palace.¡¯

    ¡®He threw a rock at my head.¡¯

    A laugh erupted from Heketas¡¯ chest, and he was still laughing when Galnai returned with his new ale.

    He wiped a tear from one eye with one calloused finger. ¡®How¡¯d you manage to piss him off so bad?¡¯

    Janu grinned. ¡®Not by doing anything the empire would approve of, that¡¯s for sure.¡¯

    Heketas took a swig of his ale. ¡®They don¡¯t approve of much these days.¡¯ He jabbed a thumb at his chest. ¡®Prime example.¡¯

    Nodding in sympathy, Janu weighed his next words against the strength of Heketas¡¯ resentment before speaking. The wrong reaction could be fatal. But this wasn¡¯t a man whose loyalties remained intact.

    ¡®Do you ever want to pay them back for that? For kicking you out the way they did?¡¯

    Eyes bulging, Heketas swept an arm around the tavern and leaned in. ¡®Why¡¯d you think I talk shit about them everywhere? This is the only place in Chorus I¡¯ve not been kicked out of.¡¯

    ¡®More than talk, I mean. Something more active. Because we have a job to do, and we could use your help with it.¡¯

    The grin that flashed across Heketas¡¯ face was fierce and feral. ¡®Damn right I¡¯ll help with that.¡¯

 15. Sisters of Circumstance

    Popilia never did get that fish for Nazagin. Galnai¡¯s words had flung the promise right out of her mind. It was only later, after she had dried her tears, assured Janu she was fine, and retreated to her section of Anshar¡¯s home, that she remembered. The tears came again, slower but more persistent. No matter how angrily she tried to pull herself together, they kept squeezing out.

    ¡®I¡¯m sorry.¡¯ She buried her head in Nazagin¡¯s feathers, repeating how sorry she was in an endless refrain. Sorry for the fish, sorry for the collar, sorry for not being clever enough to help Anshar get it off them both. For being stupid. They had both been promised to Khunuchan. Both traded like so much silk ¨C Popilia as bride, Nazagin as part of her dowry. Two more eggs were to be part of it, too. Two more dragons bound to servitude.

    Nazagin rested her head on Popilia¡¯s shoulder, her breath a steady, purring hum beside her ear. Over time, the sound soothed her enough that she didn¡¯t notice the tears or anything besides the breath, and her attention slipped from her apologies. She woke towards evening with sticky salt tracks dried onto her cheeks, Nazagin¡¯s flank forming a pillow beneath her, her wing draped over her shoulder.

    Sitting, Popilia stared out at the sliver of darkening sky where the entrance lay. Orange-tinted ribbons of cloud stretched across the distant horizon in dips between the mountains.

    ¡®I hope Anshar finds a way,¡¯ she said. And when she slept that night, her dreams filled with thoughts of sailing to Khunuchan anyway ¨C with her own agenda, with her own freedom, and with three free dragons beside her. What prince could hurt her then?

    <hr>

    Anshar wasn¡¯t home the next morning, and it didn¡¯t look like he had been at all overnight. Popilia spent most of the day at the hot springs, watching out for him in the valley. The springs had a good view over most of Kimah-Kur, but she didn¡¯t see him once. Of course, she saw the thieves. They left on the back of the grey dragon that had burned the corpses back in the mountain pass. It seemed like so long ago now. Still, she shuddered at the memory of those flames. According to Ilarion, that ability was a rarity amongst dragons. Most breathed only air, though to great effect.

    What would Nazagin breathe, she wondered? She didn¡¯t know what her mother could breathe, and Ushuene had never spoken to any of them after that first day, besides Ilarion. And the thieves were in her father¡¯s home ¨C he didn¡¯t even live here anymore. Popilia didn¡¯t even know if it was hereditary.

    Her dreams that night were furnished with dragon fire.

    Dawn¡¯s light barely woke her the next morning. When she finally blinked her eyes open, it was obvious why ¨C Anshar sat just outside the doorway, examining the intricate whorls of the grey stone sculpture that stood there.

    Popilia made her way outside, rubbing her arms for warmth in the morning chill.

    ¡®Have you found anything more for us to try?¡¯ she asked.

    Anshar turned his head towards her, sunlight highlighting the edges of his feathers in gold. ¡®I think I have,¡¯ he said. ¡®I hope I have. It is difficult to know, without trying. But in fact, what I aim to try today was your idea.¡¯

    After searching her tired memory, Popilia said, ¡®The thing you did with the markings? Where you read Nazagin¡¯s mind?¡¯

    ¡®That¡¯s the one.¡¯ Feathery fronds bobbed in the air as he nodded. ¡®I have had to make some modifications, of course, and I have little idea if the same magic will work on humans... Well, but that is why we experiment, isn¡¯t it?¡¯ He hummed a fragment of some upbeat refrain.

    ¡®When do we start?¡¯ His good mood was infectious, and Popilia¡¯s heart leapt at the thought of making progress. Her neck hurt where she had been scratching at the choker in frustration, and the morning breeze stung.

    Anshar chuckled. ¡®Break your fast first, child. This could take some time, and I have no wish for you to faint from hunger in the middle of the ritual.¡¯

    Though excitement made her stomach churn, Popilia followed his instructions. She didn¡¯t want to be the one to mess this up. It had to work. Her whole soul ached for it. She ate so fast that her chest felt like it might burst, and she had to sit still for a minute or two afterwards before she could bring herself to move.

    In that time, Anshar had already begun his preparations. He toiled at his workbench, grinding and roasting and mixing all the ingredients they would need.

    After her hasty meal, the aroma made her nauseous, but Popilia hovered close by with Nazagin and watched. At one point he even turned to the entrance and jumped into the air. Popilia ran to keep a clear view of him, but all he did was scrape a clawful of clay from the edge of the lake and fly straight back.

    He eyed her curiously when he landed. ¡®You don¡¯t have long to wait.¡¯

    True to his word, he worked for another minute mixing the clay with some sharp-smelling oils and fragrant herbs. When he was done, he arranged three large bowls on the floor around him, lay down, and motioned for Popilia and Nazagin to sit opposite each other before him.

    ¡®Lift up your head,¡¯ said Anshar, using a large spatula to pick up a clump of the scented clay, which had gained a light green tint from his additions. ¡®I need to apply this to the metal around your neck.¡¯

    Popilia smiled and lifted her chin. ¡®Will this remove it?¡¯

    ¡®If it breaks the magic, I should think so, yes.¡¯

    Clay slapped against her neck. She braced her hands against the floor to either side of her to keep herself upright ¨C a massive dragon could only be so gentle, it seemed, and Anshar had to press hard enough that the clay would stick. It cooled her skin where it touched, and its scent was soothing. Against its coolness, the warmth of her choker stood out stronger. Soon, she might be rid of the thing.

    ¡®You may find it difficult to breathe as it hardens. Try not to panic. The feeling will be more mental than physical, and I will try to be quick with the ritual.¡¯

    Popilia said nothing, afraid to disturb the clay. When Anshar moved on to Nazagin and her collar, Popilia clasped her hands in her lap and squeezed. Soon.

    When he had applied the last of the clay and curved his neck around to ensure an even coating of both their collars, Anshar put the bowl to one side and closed his eyes. He chanted a low, monotonous string of words that vibrated through the floor beneath them.

    As the last syllable rang out, the clay around Popilia¡¯s neck froze solid. She gasped and had to quell the same surge of panic Anshar had warned her about moments ago. She could still breathe. She reminded herself of that. But there was something base and instinctual about having such a solid mass tightened around her neck that her heart couldn¡¯t help but beat faster at it.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Anshar reached for the second bowl now. He did the same as he had before, dipping his claw into the dye, which was a deep blue this time. He drew the same set of sprawling patterns over Nazagin, though Popilia thought it had slight differences. It didn¡¯t reach to her chest like it had before, and instead the greatest density of lines concentrated around the ring of clay. He went further still, adding elaborate whorls to the blank spaces of the design that reminded Popilia of his beloved statue by the entrance.

    At last, he withdrew and examined his work. He gave a satisfied nod. Then he dipped a different claw in the third bowl, its dye a slightly lighter blue, and moved it towards Popilia.

    She closed her eyes, expecting Anshar¡¯s claw to scrape against her softer skin like a knife. When he touched her, however, his movements were so soft that she only felt the semblance of a fingernail brushing the fine hairs on her face. It tickled a little, and she had to hold in a shudder, but it didn¡¯t hurt in the slightest. She wished she had a mirror ¨C what a sight she must make! Like one of the tribal warriors of old.

    Anshar¡¯s humming prompted her to open her eyes again. He had his gaze turned up to the stars painted on his ceiling, his snout swaying this way and that. After a few more seconds of the humming, he broke into song ¨C not a monotonous chant like before, but words in a melody that wound into Popilia¡¯s brain like thick incense. Their markings began to glow and Popilia¡¯s eyes went out of focus as a patch flared at the tip of her nose.

    Across the room, the light in Nazagin¡¯s markings seemed to move. They travelled from the tip of her nose through all the intricate spirals down to the clay ring. There, the clay absorbed them. It soon glowed like daylight, and the glare at the bottom of Popilia¡¯s vision suggested hers was doing the same. Warmth embraced her neck, heating until it stopped just short of being painful. The scent of the heated clay drifted up and made her eyes water.

    Everything in the room began to distort as the song continued. A fuzziness descended over Popilia¡¯s mind. The stars on the ceiling above her wandered, trailing tails of paint behind them, weaving around each other to leave multicoloured strands. Her perspective couldn¡¯t stay fixed in one position. It wavered back and forth ¨C or perhaps she was swaying ¨C and the next moment almost seemed to double. The angles of her world expanded, its dimensions beyond the scope her brain could grasp, her vision no longer centred on herself but including her and all behind her.

    She cocked her head to the side, watching as her dark brown hair, normally braided, scattered over her shoulders. She wondered where Anshar had found such a big mirror and how he had managed to¡ª But no, she could still see Nazagin and the sky through the entrance. Her head pounded.

    Why can I see myself? she thought, and by the thought meant both the girl and the dragon. In this sprawling sense of self was something both new and familiar. A boundary had been crossed whichever way she looked at it, but in one sense she had simply passed from one side of it to the other, and in another sense the boundary was all she had ever known. Her thoughts ran in binary, two streams separating and mingling and, every now and then, turning to examine the other.

    Each examined the other now: Nazagin and Popilia, distance separating their bodies but not their minds. That much, they managed to grasp. The distinction between selves acted as a lifeline to drowning egos, one of them so newly formed.

    Popilia blinked rapidly and clenched her hands, using the sensation to anchor herself in the reality of who she was. She could still feel Nazagin with her, as part of her, but she knew where to draw the line between them now. Or so she hoped.

    Can you understand me? she asked again. If things had changed, perhaps¡ª

    I always could. The thought appeared in Popilia¡¯s own mind, but she knew she hadn¡¯t put it there. Across the room, Nazagin blinked at her, her gaze for the first time focussed and direct. I just couldn¡¯t respond. I don¡¯t think I knew how. There was... a fog. I can still feel it, a little, at the edge of my mind. Nazagin¡¯s gaze drifted to Anshar, who was still singing, and she shuddered. Please don¡¯t let it come back.

    Popilia was almost too amazed to take her words in. How long since Nazagin had hatched? Only a few weeks. At that age, her younger brother had been a screaming mess. What a difference, with dragons. Although if she could have read her brother¡¯s mind, who knew what she might have heard?

    Just then, the tightness around Popilia¡¯s neck loosened. Clay fragments trickled down her neck and fell into her lap, and Nazagin¡¯s clay ring disintegrated in the same manner. She threw her hands up to her neck, pulling away loose chunks of clay and throwing them onto the floor. When the last piece came free, she reached up again, expecting to feel smooth, uncovered skin.

    Her hand settled on metal filigree instead. No!

    As Nazagin shook her clay to reveal a still-intact collar, Popilia turned her gaze to Anshar. She hadn¡¯t noticed, but his song had stopped. An echo of it lingered in her memory.

    ¡®It hasn¡¯t worked,¡¯ she said. ¡®The collars haven¡¯t come off.¡¯

    Anshar let out a great snort of hair that lifted clay from the floor and flung it to the far side of the room. Popilia¡¯s hair billowed around her face.

    ¡®Has nothing happened at all?¡¯ he asked, tapping his two dyed claws against the floor and leaving bright dots in their wake.

    ¡®Yes, but¡ª¡¯

    ¡®I can think,¡¯ said Nazagin in her physical voice. It was an eerie cross between Popilia¡¯s and Anshar¡¯s voices, as if she had plucked both of them from the air and moulded them. ¡®I can feel.¡¯

    A fierce wave of pride and joy intruded on Popilia¡¯s consciousness. It felt wrong to muddy it with her own note of despair, but they had to get rid of the collars too, surely? She gave her filigree choker an experimental tug, but she could barely get a grip on it. It had been almost part of her skin since Critobulus had sealed it there.

    Anshar made a purring noise and lowered his head to inspect Nazagin. ¡®That is good. That is good indeed. Your mother will be very glad to hear it. The feelings you had before ¨C the fog, the tether. Are they quite gone?¡¯

    Nazagin wriggled her claws. ¡®Not gone, but not... there.¡¯

    ¡®Hmm,¡¯ With a less violent snort than last time, he turned to Popilia. ¡®Ask her to stand on her hind feet.¡¯

    Popilia did so, and Nazagin lifted her feet one after the other, body straining to follow the instruction, but brows lowered in confusion. At length, she shook her head and lay down with her legs tucked underneath her.

    ¡®You still felt a compulsion to follow her instruction, yes?¡¯ Anshar cocked his head.

    ¡®I did.¡¯ Again that wave of pride, and Nazagin flicked her tail. ¡®But I beat it. Now I get to try. Popilia, come over here.¡¯

    Before she could even process the words, her brain fuzzed like the confusion after waking from a faint. Her hands moved of their own accord and she had pushed off the ground by the time she realised what was happening. As soon as she tried to wrest her senses back to herself, she faltered and flopped to the side in a heap.

    She winced and rubbed her hip where she had landed. ¡®Ow. That¡¯s new.¡¯

    ¡®It is indeed. Most interesting.¡¯ Anshar¡¯s voice took on a sad note. ¡®Not quite what I had been hoping for, however.¡¯

    Popilia frowned, trying to think of this magic applied to the whole dragon guard. ¡®But if I can tell her what to do, and she can tell me what to do, and we can both refuse, then that¡¯s good, right? We¡¯re free to do what we want. We just have to... push. If you did this to everyone, no one would be able to use dragons anymore. And dragons could tell everyone exactly what they thought.¡¯

    Anshar tapped his claws again. As he thought, the tip of his tail began to lash in faster and wider arcs. After a while, his lips parted in a semi-smile that didn¡¯t move with his words. ¡®You are right. It¡¯s a start, and a path we can ill afford to forsake. My only concern is that with the bond still in place, in principle, the magic may be reworked from afar.¡¯ He shook his head. ¡®I will consult with Ushuene-amaak, but I imagine she will want me to proceed.¡¯

    His usual jovial hum returned. ¡®I will have much to do. Scaling this up, doing it without the clay or the markings... It will be difficult. But thanks to you¡¯ ¨C he brought his tail forwards and encompassed them both with one swing of the tip ¨C ¡®I have hope.¡¯

    Popilia smiled, and for the first time since arriving in Kimah-Kur, thought seriously about what she would do when she returned home. It would all depend on how her parents reacted to the dragons gaining their freedom, and the freedom to speak. Her stomach churned at the thought of them rejecting such freedom, but in her heart Popilia suspected that was exactly what they would do.

    If that happened, they could never know her part in this. It would be her secret to keep, forever.

 16. The Lay of the Land

    Janu could have skipped back to their meeting point with Ilarion, he was so happy to have found Heketas. An electric undercurrent ran through him, his every fibre straining for the challenge of the heist to come. With any luck the former guard would furnish them with enough details to bring a good plan together. With any luck, this would all work out.

    They stayed the night in the inn Ilarion had picked out ¨C fancier than Janu would have opted for, but not fancy enough that guests from non-core kingdoms would be sneered at. Contrary to Janu¡¯s expectation, Galnai seemed more at ease in his company now she had told her story. She even asked him a couple of questions about his time with the dragons once Heketas had gone to bed. Ilarion¡¯s answers, illustrated by his copious notes, consumed the remainder of that evening.

    Early the next morning, the four of them dressed and made their way out into the streets. Long shadows swept across the paving stones before them. When Janu squinted into the sunrise, he found the dusky forms of four dragons patrolling Chorus¡¯ skies.

    ¡®They really watch you from all directions in this city, don¡¯t they?¡¯ Janu said.

    Heketas followed his gaze. ¡®They can¡¯t see shit from up there unless they¡¯re turning. Backs too broad. They¡¯re mostly for show, or if anyone calls ¡®em.¡¯

    With his head cocked to the sky, Ilarion said, ¡®I would have thought they could see via the bond. I didn¡¯t think to ask if it worked like that.¡¯

    ¡®Who¡¯d you even ask?¡¯

    Ilarion shrugged. ¡®Friend of a friend.¡¯

    They had agreed to keep Heketas¡¯ information limited, for now. He didn¡¯t need to know they were working for the dragons, just that they were working to hurt the empire by freeing them, and that they needed to get into the palace to do that. He certainly didn¡¯t need to know they were the cause of the missing princess. Janu hadn¡¯t noticed it in the poorer quarters ¨C perhaps disgruntled locals had painted over them ¨C but many of the streets here had Popilia¡¯s likeness painted on the walls with requests for information on her whereabouts. A man might hate the empire, but value money more. Janu didn¡¯t know if Heketas was that kind of man.

    Two tributary rivers connected the River Kim, where they had arrived, to the imperial palace. Following one of these rivers through the richer districts made for an easy route. Bright flowering trees and shrubs lined the paths. When they reached the temple district, a ceiling of silk canopies greeted them. They stretched from one side of the river path to the other, each colour tinting the clean stone beneath. A far cry from even the richest districts of Athon.

    Eventually they emerged in the broad park in front of the palace and stopped there, gawking.

    Heketas gave them all a toothy grin. ¡®Tourists.¡¯

    Janu had heard of the palace: that this park was built on a solid bed of rock with tonnes of soil layered over it; that the rock was marble, and that¡¯s why the lake was called the Marble Basin. He hadn¡¯t really believed it, or pictured it. But there the palace sat, its long colonnades shimmering in a heat haze, a dome in each corner, a forest of minarets bristling within the walls, flanking the dome of the throne room. A near-perfect reflection of its grandeur sat upon the surface of the lake, its waters the blue of polished turquoise. From time to time a ripple broke its image.

    ¡®Is it true they keep serpents in the lake?¡¯ Janu asked.

    ¡®Oh, very true.¡¯ Heketas gestured for them to keep moving. ¡®You might see a few as we walk. Come on.¡¯

    Thankful for an easy ruse ¨C it was common enough to take a walk around the edge of the lake, thanks to the park ¨C Janu trailed along behind Heketas. Beneath the notes of fading spring blossoms, soil and grass, something musty permeated the air. It smelled familiar, though Janu couldn¡¯t place it. Similar to horse, but somehow dustier.

    Beside him, Ilarion drew a deep breath and said without hesitation, ¡®Smells like dragon.¡¯

    Heketas turned and raised an eyebrow as he walked. ¡®Well you won¡¯t be smelling the barracks out here, unless it¡¯s shit you¡¯re smelling. This¡¯ll be the serpents.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯ve heard they¡¯re related.¡¯Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Shrugging, Heketes said, ¡®Do I look like a dragon expert to you?¡¯ Then he pointed to the water by the side of the palace they were walking parallel to. ¡®It¡¯s stronger on this side, the smell. Not sure why. One of the gardeners said it¡¯s because there¡¯s a warm spot under the lake there, but it¡¯s not like anyone goes swimming in it to check, so I reckon he was talking piss.¡¯ His face turned thoughtful. ¡®Steam does come off it in winter, mind.¡¯

    Janu turned his words over in his mind while they walked the rest of the length of the lakeside. It wouldn¡¯t surprise him if the palace had underfloor heating in the form of a hypocaust, but for the heat to be localised in one point of the lake would mean there were rooms underground, and only on this side. Possible, but unlikely. And he couldn¡¯t think of a way to turn it to their advantage ¨C even if they could swim down there, it¡¯s not like they would find a door set into the bottom of the lake.

    ¡®Do you know what it is you¡¯re after, anyway?¡¯ asked Heketas. ¡®There aren¡¯t many ways into the palace. Knowing where you want to go will help.¡¯

    Ilarion gave him the same details he had given them back in Kimah-Kur: an ancient horn with detailed inscriptions, likely in the possession of Critobulus.

    Heketas spat on the ground at the mention of the sorcerer¡¯s name. ¡®You¡¯ll have a hard time of that, then.¡¯

    ¡®How so?¡¯ Janu asked.

    Their walk had taken them fully along one side of the palace and its lake, so they turned along the next edge as Heketas shook his head.

    ¡®There¡¯s a special guard watch I¡¯d get assigned, now and then. Critobulus does most of his work two levels down on a floor solely for his use. His room¡¯s directly beneath the chamber of magic, but there¡¯s something else down there. I never saw him go in, just heard about it from other shifts, and sometimes he¡¯d just... appear, out of nowhere. Wherever it is, the entrance is hidden. It¡¯s all carved out of the bedrock down there, and it¡¯s newer than the palace. I reckon he designed it himself.¡¯

    ¡®You¡¯ve not seen the artefact anywhere else?¡¯

    Again, Heketas shook his head. ¡®They¡¯ve got a lot of fancy stuff on display in there. Lots of stuff to guard and lots of stuff to look at when you¡¯re bored. I¡¯d have remembered seeing it. No, I reckon Critobulus likes his treasures like he likes his women: as many as he can get, all to hisself.¡¯

    At this rate, it sounded like Critobulus kept the artefact on his bedside table for the viewing pleasure of his little harem. Perhaps he kept all three in his mysterious dungeon. At least if the guards didn¡¯t know how to get in, they weren¡¯t likely to be, well, guarding it.

    He eyed the palace again. Now they walked along the rear wall, the twin gold-tipped minarets and large dome that formed the throne room loomed large over the palace walls. Their real problem would be getting through all of that to reach their destination. Just getting into the palace would be difficult enough, but Critobulus had set up shop about as far from any entrance as he could.

    They crossed a painted bridge over one of the thin tributary rivers that filled the lake and went on to join the River Kim. A ripple on the lake¡¯s surface caught Janu¡¯s attention. When he looked, he caught the curve of a scaled back slipping beneath the surface.

    ¡®How do you recommend we get in, then?¡¯ Galnai asked. Her jaw had set in hard lines ¨C a sure sign she was growing impatient.

    Heketas drew a deep breath, then pointed to the middle of the outer colonnade, where a wide archway made a gap. ¡®In the middle there, under the waterline, there¡¯s a grate that lets water into the lowest level. No idea why. I think Critobulus needed it for something. But that¡¯s the quickest way to get in.¡¯

    ¡®And I¡¯m guessing those serpents would find us a tasty snack if we tried to swim.¡¯

    ¡®That¡¯s why they¡¯re there. Certainly not for show. They stink up the place and leave their skins all over the southwest shore. And the prison likes to feed them their murderers and rapists, from time to time.¡¯ Heketas shuddered. ¡®It¡¯s not nice to watch.¡¯

    Ilarion stepped up to the water¡¯s edge, playing with one end of his moustache. ¡®It would be a long swim, anyway. We couldn¡¯t go by boat without being spotted, but we can¡¯t hold our breath for that long either. And we¡¯ll have gear to carry, I assume.¡¯

    Janu eyed the water. Seething with the passage of serpents beneath, it awakened a memory in him of times long past, back in Avesh before it split. Drakfish swam in the shallow swamp waters there. A woman had lived near them, her home as much a part of the swamp as the trees, her livelihood formed of its fruits and the magic needed to get them.

    ¡®If you give me enough time,¡¯ Janu said, ¡®I can solve the swimming issue. But I¡¯m not so sure about the serpents.¡¯

    Heketas looked over and scratched his chin. ¡®Well, if you have plenty of time, you can always wait for the full moon.¡¯

    ¡®What¡¯s so special about that?¡¯ If anything, that was the worst time to break in, with the night bathed in light. Even if they kept beneath the water, they still had to get in in the first place, and someone would surely spot them.

    ¡®There¡¯s something about the serpents and the moon. No idea what, but they fixate on it. Go into a sort of trance. People like to come to the lake to watch it, so it won¡¯t look odd to be about at night. And the serpents¡¯ll probably be too distracted to try eating you.¡¯

    ¡®Probably?¡¯ Galnai scoffed.

    ¡®Look, I¡¯ve given you what I have. They built this place for security as well as looks. You won¡¯t be able to get in by any other route and you¡¯re all ¨C we¡¯re all ¨C too foreign to even try getting jobs inside. You want to try sneaking through the whole palace? Be my guest. But if that¡¯s the case, I won¡¯t be coming with you.¡¯

    Janu spoke before anyone else could. ¡®That¡¯s okay. We¡¯ll take your route. But we need one more person for this to work. We need to hire a water witch.¡¯

 17. The Shape of Water

    Ordinarily, the journey from Chorus across the sea to what was now the Alaram Principality, in the centre of the Agnetavanian continent, would have taken weeks. Now, though, they had the advantage of dragon flight. Janu hadn¡¯t expected it to be an option, but Ilarion had ways of contacting them. He called upon one of the tiny six-winged draklings to relay them a message, and the reply came barely a day later. They took a small boat out to sea, far from shore, and waited.

    The waiting was the worst part. Being out at sea in something this flimsy had Janu clutching the sides, white-knuckled. When a blue-feathered dragon landed beside them an hour or so later, its waking almost capsized them. But the three of them ¨C Heketas had remained in Chorus to drink its bars dry ¨C managed to jump across in safety. With that, they shot above the clouds and winged towards their destination.

    Dragon sightings were common enough in the northern swamps of Alaram, near the great forest, that Janu felt safe landing near the village without attracting too much attention. But he only relaxed when he had both feet on the ground, watching the dragon until its hide blended with the sky and it vanished from sight. Seeing his childhood home from the air had been unnerving, like all his memories had compressed into one singular patch of ground and shrunk.

    Galnai marched over to the empty path that led to the village and looked up and down its length. ¡®Is this the same witch who does the siren fruit?¡¯ she asked.

    ¡®Well remembered,¡¯ Janu said. It had been a long time since their last visit, and that had been by land. They didn¡¯t need siren fruit often, and its danger made it hellishly expensive. ¡®I have a feeling we¡¯ll need more of that for this job.¡¯

    Ilarion came up beside them with a questioning look on his face. ¡®What are siren fruit?¡¯

    Exchanging a glance with Galnai, Janu said, ¡®If you¡¯d spent your time here with humans instead of dragons, you¡¯d probably know by now.¡¯

    ¡®Does siren fruit even do the same to dragons?¡¯ Galnai asked.

    He shrugged and began walking down the path. ¡®There are old stories about a dragon flying around with a siren tree growing out of its back, so I¡¯d guess so, but you know how stories go. But for your benefit, Ilarion ¨C when the fruit of a siren tree is ripe, its scent lures people in. You can¡¯t resist it. You have to find the tree and eat the fruit. Then its seeds start growing inside you, but the fruit has drugged you, so you don¡¯t care until it¡¯s too late. Sometimes the first anyone else knows about it is the screams when the drug wears off.¡¯

    Ilarion¡¯s pale skin had taken on a green tinge. ¡®And we¡¯re walking towards where those grow?¡¯

    ¡®Oh, they grow all over the place.¡¯ Janu suppressed a grin. It was a rare to tell someone about siren trees for the first time. ¡®But don¡¯t worry ¨C part of the role of a water witch is to monitor the swamp for siren trees. They don¡¯t fruit often, and when they do she can harvest them before they begin giving off too much scent.¡¯

    ¡®And what do you do with the harvested fruit?¡¯

    ¡®You can make two powders from it. The first is the one we sometimes use ¨C it¡¯s like an extract of the scent. It¡¯s good for luring people away from somewhere you don¡¯t want them to look. Just leave the extract somewhere in range and add water, and they¡¯ll be drawn to it like it was still growing. Less obvious than using sleeping powder. The second is just a drug, mostly used in ceremonies.¡¯

    Galnai added, ¡®They¡¯re both illegal, of course.¡¯

    ¡®Of course,¡¯ Ilarion said.

    They walked the rest of the way to the village in a silence broken only by their footsteps, which grew louder as the path transitioned to boardwalk over swamp water. Then the village itself emerged from between the thick tree trunks, the bright painted walls of its huts shining out from under their reed-thatched rooves. A few boats punted back and forth from the swamp, skimming beneath bunting that had been wrapped around the nearby trees.

    Tepet-amad hadn¡¯t changed much. It rarely did, beyond a few new floors being added to the existing houses with subsequent generations. Its problem, like many swamp villages, was that it only had one patch of dry land to build on, and it had exhausted the limits of that many decades ago. People preferred to build up where they could, though they had started building further out on stilts with connecting boardwalks in recent years.

    When they kept walking past the bustling village centre and towards the far edge, Ilarion asked, ¡®Where exactly does this woman live?¡¯

    ¡®She¡¯s a water witch,¡¯ Janu said, and pointed to a string of coloured lamps that disappeared into the swamp ahead. ¡®She lives out on the water. This is the safe path to get there. Make sure you stand on the grass tussocks if you can¡¯t see any ground.¡¯

    ¡®Couldn¡¯t we have just used a boat?¡¯

    ¡®We don¡¯t need it for this. Come on!¡¯

    Janu took the lead, sticking close to the lanterns and picking his steps with care. Soon enough the village was only a distant bright patch peeping between the trees, and the swamp surrounded them. Tree limbs creaked above them and to either side, and unseen birds answered them in hoots and whistles.

    ¡®At least this is warmer than the swamps in Yerediv,¡¯ Ilarion muttered.

    He wouldn¡¯t be so relieved if they had come here in the full sticky heat of summer, Janu was sure.

    Not long later, the witch¡¯s hut emerged from behind a tangle of reeds. It had been freshly painted a cheery orange. A teenage boy stood on a ladder out front, adding white patterns above the lintel. One of the witch¡¯s many children, perhaps ¨C she had too many to keep track of.

    Janu called out to him, ¡®Does Divya still live here?¡¯

    The boy¡¯s head snapped round and he wobbled on his ladder, but nodded. ¡®She¡¯s out right now, but you can wait inside if you want.¡¯

    Staying clear of the ladder, they filed into the witch¡¯s hut. As soon as they did, two young women looked up from their activities ¨C one sewing, one grinding herbs in a mortar and pestle ¨C and directed them to take a seat at a large table. Without a word passing between them or their guests, they served them mugs of steaming tea and plates of sweet smoked fish. Three younger children, two boys and a girl, peeked out now and them from the cracked-ajar door to an adjacent room. Divya had birthed her own small army of helpers, it seemed.

    Half an hour later, someone knocked their boots by the front door then stepped inside. A short woman, Divya hadn¡¯t aged much, though the crow¡¯s feet in the corners of her eyes had deepened, tugging at the swirling ochre tattoos on her face.

    ¡®All healthy,¡¯ she announced to her daughters. ¡®Two boys, and the second¡¯s a brawler.¡¯ Then she looked over to the table and her deep green eyes fixed on Janu. ¡®Is that you, Janu Mannit?¡¯

    Janu grimaced and stroked his scruffy beard, wishing he¡¯d remembered to trim it back in Chorus. ¡®It is. It¡¯s good to see you again, Divya.¡¯

    She smiled, spread her arms wide and sat down on the bench opposite them. ¡®And always good to see one of my best customers. You really should come by more often.¡¯

    ¡®The stuff you give me is just too good. You should water it down and it wouldn¡¯t last me so long.¡¯

    With a chuckle, she shook her head. ¡®So what is it you want this time, hmm? More siren fruit?¡¯

    Janu clasped his hands together on the table and leaned forwards. ¡®That¡¯s one part of it. The rest is... rather more involved. We need your help with something.¡¯

    ¡®Do you now?¡¯ She raised her chin, eyes narrowed, then waved a hand. ¡®Go on then. Out with it.¡¯This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    He eyed her children, still scattered about the room at their various tasks. ¡®It might be best if only you hear it.¡¯

    ¡®Pah! What do you take them for? Village girls? We don¡¯t gossip, unless it¡¯s among ourselves. Keep the boys away, though, go on.¡¯ With a snap of her fingers, one of the girls left to herd whatever other children might be listening at doors into more distant spaces.

    Telling Divya the whole truth would be the best approach. Janu had known that coming in, but it didn¡¯t make voicing all the details any easier. He hadn¡¯t even given those to Heketas, but... well, Heketas was a drunkard he¡¯d only just met, and he had known Divya at least in passing for years. So he told her all about the dragons, about how they could speak and think just as much as any human ¨C or more, per Ilarion¡¯s interruption ¨C and how they wanted to break the empire¡¯s binding of their kin. He told her about the artefact being kept in the bowels of the imperial palace and noted how her nose wrinkled at the mention of Critobulus.

    ¡®So we plan to steal it,¡¯ he said. ¡®But we need a way to get across the lake without being spotted either by the serpents or the guards. And then we need to cut through a grille to get into the palace itself. My first thought was of you. Can you help us?¡¯

    Divya chewed a bite of fish, mulling over Janu¡¯s words. When she finished, she said, ¡®It is a good thing I have taught my daughters my craft. Chorus is a long way from here.¡¯

    ¡®Then you¡¯ll help us?¡¯ He hadn¡¯t even mentioned payment yet. Given her usual prices for siren fruit, Janu dreaded to think of it. He had no idea how many more bezin the dragons might be sitting on.

    ¡®What the empire is doing,¡¯ she said. ¡®It is not natural or right. Not with many things, and certainly not with the dragons. Every year they encroach more and more upon the wild spaces, just as they encroach upon the lands of people who have no wish to be their subjects. The spirits grow restless. They sense there is a change at hand, but it is too great and abstract for them to counter. It is time a little of the wild had chance to hold the empire to account. Set their dragons free and see what change they might bring with their words of fire.¡¯

    ¡®What do you ask in return?¡¯

    ¡®Hey.¡¯ She folded her arms across her chest. ¡®You think a woman like me won¡¯t take an adventure for the sake of it just because she¡¯s a couple of decades past her prime?¡¯

    Janu grinned, not fooled by her theatrics. ¡®I think even the youngest of us adventure for money, and you have a large family to feed.¡¯

    ¡®Pah, they feed themselves most days.¡¯ But she leaned forwards to match Janu¡¯s posture and said, ¡®The siren fruit I will charge my usual for. I won¡¯t take payment for the rest of it ¨C there are useful materials I can gather from the lake serpents that are hard to come by around here. They¡¯ll fetch me more than I would charge, at any rate.¡¯

    He breathed a sigh of relief, tension draining from his shoulders. ¡®That¡¯s very generous of you. I don¡¯t know how to thank you for this.¡¯

    She snorted. ¡®Thank me by making sure this is as interesting as you¡¯ve made it out to be. Otherwise I might ask for backpay. When do you need me to leave?¡¯

    ¡®We need to make our move by the next full moon.¡¯

    ¡®That would be tomorrow.¡¯

    ¡®The full moon after next, then.¡¯ Janu really should have paid attention to that before he left. A moon cycle wasn¡¯t a long wait, though. ¡®We can fly most of the way there on dragonback, so there¡¯s no rush.¡¯

    ¡®Just as well. I¡¯ve got one siren fruit growing, but it¡¯s not ripe enough to harvest yet. Give me ten days and I¡¯ll have it for you. You¡¯re welcome as guests here until then, and I¡¯ve something you can help me with to stave off boredom.¡¯

    ¡®What¡¯s that?¡¯ Janu asked, worried he had just been roped into re-digging latrines or something just as foul.

    ¡®If you want to breathe underwater to avoid being spotted in the lake, we¡¯ll need drakfish scales. Just from one fish, mind, but they¡¯re a bugger to catch. I reckon the three of you should manage it in a few days, though, don¡¯t you think?¡¯

    He nodded, sure that catching one fish couldn¡¯t take them that long. ¡®It¡¯s a deal.¡¯

    <hr>

    He had forgotten all about drakfish. When they went out on the first day armed with spears and nets, all Janu had been able to tell Galnai and Ilarion was to watch for a large, whiskered fish with hide the colour of swamp water. In the first few hours they didn¡¯t see a single one. Only later, when they cut open a smaller fish they had caught to use as bait in Galnai¡¯s net, did they have their first encounter.

    A fast ripple made its way along the water¡¯s surface towards the net. It never slowed, and it broke clean through the net with its prize. Galnai plunged her spear in after it, but missed. A few moments later a brown blur the length of her leg leapt out of the water, snapping at Galnai with its many sharp teeth.

    Yes, he had definitely forgotten about the teeth.

    They abandoned the nets after that attempt and skewered bait onto sticks to place in the water. Each time, the drakfish were too fast for them. They just darted past, taking the bait along with its stick. Ilarion managed to land a blow on two separate occasions. On the first, his spear tip just glanced off the fish¡¯s thick scales. On the second, he only succeeded in breaking off one of its whiskers. He stood a little further from the water for the next few minutes, certain it would leap back out to attack him.

    The second day met with as little success as the first. As the light began to die however, Janu did notice a drakfish leap out of the water at a frog and strand itself on land several yards away. He ran to catch it, but it had propelled itself back into the water using its four short fins before he could reach it.

    On the morning of the third day, he woke with that image fresh in his mind. This time when he prepared the bait, he tied it to the end of a string and held the end himself. He kept a watchful eye on the water, not wanting to miss the tell-tale ripples that would warn of a drakfish¡¯s approach.

    ¡®That¡¯s just going to slice your hands when it takes it, you realise,¡¯ said Galnai from her spot a few feet away.

    Janu fixed his gaze on a set of ripples streaming towards him. ¡®Not if I¡¯m faster.¡¯

    At the last moment, he pulled the bait aside onto shore. The drakfish followed, jumping sideways with its teeth clamping around the bait. Janu tugged on the string, pulling it further onto dry land. Before he could reach for his spear, Ilarion jumped over to help. He pulled his dagger from its sheathe, grabbed the flailing drakfish with his other hand and plunged the dagger into its gills.

    Its tail battered the floor for a few moments, then grew still, and the angry light fled from its eyes.

    Ilarion lifted his hand and inspected several new cuts and scratches from the drakfish¡¯s scales and fins.

    ¡®I¡¯m glad we only need to catch one of these,¡¯ he said.

    <hr>

    The tenth day arrived, and with it the sight of Divya preparing her siren mask. It was these preparations that had woken Janu. Divya sang a little tune to herself as she rubbed scented oil into the decorated wood, which made an intricate face of paint and inlaid metals. Ilarion stepped outside to summon another drakling messenger ¨C they would leave as soon as Divya had prepared the fruit.

    As soon as Divya finished oiling the mask, she put it on and began sealing the edges where it met her skin with thick clay.

    ¡®You don¡¯t need to watch me,¡¯ she said with a dismissive wave of her hand ¨C though how she could tell given the mask had no eye holes, Janu had no idea. ¡®I need to wait for this to dry before we go anywhere. Help yourself to breakfast.¡¯

    So they did. By the time they were done, Divya¡¯s clay had dried, and she beckoned them over to the door. ¡®You want to watch, yes?¡¯

    Galnai grimaced. ¡®Don¡¯t we need masks as well?¡¯

    ¡®No, no. I¡¯ll leave you out of range.¡¯

    With some reluctance, they got up and followed her into her long boat, which she punted through the murky swamp water with unfailing confidence and apparently perfect vision. She kept going for about half an hour, following a trail of old and faded bunting through the trees. At last, she pulled up alongside a patch of dry land and motioned for them to climb out.

    ¡®The tree is just up ahead. Stay here, and you will be safe.¡¯

    Janu nodded and clambered ashore, the others just behind him. Chills prickled along his spine. Now that she had pointed it out, he could tell the siren tree apart from the rest. It stood a few hundred yards away. Its bark was blacker than the other trees, the undersides of its leaves shaded an unsettling tinge of purple. An orange speck that might have been its fruit nestled amongst a set of low-lying branches. He resisted the urge to hold his breath. If Divya said it was safe, he trusted her. At least a little.

    A pair of weathered cow horns jutted from the trunk at the waterline, the only sign of the creature that had died to seed this tree.

    Divya¡¯s boat inches across the swamp until it butted up against the trunk of the siren tree. From bow to stern, it barely stretched the width of the trunk. Divya hooked the boat to a rope that had been tied around the tree, then drew two poles out from the bottom of her boat. One bore a sharp, hooked saw, the other a net.

    Holding the net beneath the fruit, she set to work sawing at the branch it hung on. Janu wondered what would happen if she dropped it and it split on the bow of her boat. Would they still be a safe distance away then?

    Thankfully, he never had to find out. Divya cut and caught the fruit with the efficiency of someone who had done this a thousand times before, then settled back into her seat. There she retrieved the fruit from her net and set about doing something to it that Janu couldn¡¯t make out. At one point a smell like sweet strawberries and currants drifted across them and Janu took an involuntary step forwards before it disappeared. He blinked, confused for a moment, until he realised what that smell must have been.

    Not long after that, Divya unhooked from the tree and punted back to them. As they were boarding, she scooped up water from the swamp to wet the clay around her mask, then prized it loose. It left a contour of clay around her face, like a tide line on a beach outcrop.

    She scratched at the clay, and gestured to a clay-sealed pot with her free hand. ¡®The flesh of the fruit, safely stored, ready to be dried and powdered.¡¯ Now she gestured to a ball of wet clay. ¡®The essence of the scent, ready for you to use as soon as its coating dries.¡¯

    ¡®What do you do with the seeds?¡¯ Janu asked.

    Divya grinned and dangled a small pouch that she had tucked into her sleeve. ¡®I grind them and smoke them in my pipe. A cure-all, you could call it.¡¯

    Janu raised an eyebrow, but settled into his seat for the journey back to Divya¡¯s hut. They had everything ¨C and everyone ¨C he thought they needed now. All he had to do was hope Divya wasn¡¯t high on her own pipe smoke when it came time for the heist.

 18. Moon Trance

    Two nights before the full moon, the thieves gathered in the inn Ilarion had rented for a last feast before they either succeeded in their task or fell prey to imperial justice. They had spent the day combing the edges of the lake for shed serpent skin, and Janu wasn¡¯t sure how many baths he would have to take before the smell would come off. It was partly a favour for Divya, who wanted the materials for her payment, but also part of their new plan. Or rather, Divya¡¯s amendments to their existing plan.

    ¡®You think those puppets will do the trick?¡¯ Galnai asked. She leaned back in her chair, more relaxed than Janu had seen her in ages. Whether that was due to the excitement he shared over their upcoming job or simply a result of a happy amount of drink, he couldn¡¯t tell. It made a welcome change, in any case.

    Janu swirled his goblet, watching candlelight reflect from the spinning disk of honeyed wine. ¡®If Divya thinks it will work, then so do I.¡¯ He took a sip and savoured the rich taste. ¡®It does sound outlandish, I admit. But so do many things magic can achieve.¡¯

    She pulled a face. ¡®And I admit I prefer the people whose job it is to do magic to do the magicking. But I also like breathing, so I¡¯ll give her that part of the plan.¡¯

    Divya had effectively taken on the approach to the palace. Her approach would see them safely across, but for a distraction from the serpents she had asked them to acquire three serpent puppets. To these she would affix some of the shed skin, which would apparently fool the real serpents into thinking the thieves one of their own.

    Hard to believe, for sure. Janu had seen those wooden puppets when Ilarion had brought them back from the market, and the serpents would have to have terrible eyesight to miss the differences.

    He eyed Ilarion now, still unsure how much the man knew of what Galnai had told him on their first visit to Chorus. Bringing up the subject felt like it would be a betrayal of sorts. Then again, the last thing he wanted was for him to discover she had killed his father when they were all in the belly of the imperial palace. Secrets like that had a tendency to come out on their own, with an inherent spite that sought the worst possible moment.

    After his next sip of wine, he asked, ¡®So tell me more about Khunuchan. Galnai has told me a little, but not much. If you want an indication of how little a little is, she still teases me for simply calling it Khunuchan, though she never sees fit to correct me.¡¯

    Ilarion laughed ¨C a little, hesitant thing ¨C and Janu didn¡¯t miss the way his gaze flicked briefly to Galnai. ¡®Well, it¡¯s a broad subject. You¡¯ll have to be more specific.¡¯

    ¡®Ask him about dragons,¡¯ Galnai said, ¡®and he talks for hours. Ask him about home and he goes shy.¡¯ Her lips had curled into something resembling a smile, but her eyes bored into Janu.

    Janu returned her false smile with a more genuine one. ¡®A shy subject for everyone, then. Well, you¡¯ve already mentioned your time as a soldier. Tell us about before that, about where you grew up. That kind of thing.¡¯

    Ilarion shifted uncomfortably, perhaps as aware of the heat of Galnai¡¯s gaze as Janu was, though neither of them was looking directly at her.

    ¡®It was just... rural,¡¯ he said. ¡®Nothing of note. We just farmed the land, tried to make enough to get by, the same as everyone else around those parts.¡¯

    ¡®We?¡¯

    ¡®Oh, for crying out loud.¡¯ Galnai rolled her eyes and set her mug down on the table with a loud clunk. ¡®Stop digging into him, Janu.¡¯ She turned to Ilarion. ¡®He knows.¡¯

    Ilarion¡¯s gaze shifted between the two of them. ¡®Everything?¡¯

    ¡®Yes,¡¯ said Galnai, at the same time as Janu asked, ¡®Define "everything".¡¯

    Another glance between the two of them, except this time Ilarion¡¯s shoulders slumped. He heaved a great sigh, settled back against the wall and told Galnai, ¡®I know.¡¯

    Galnai looked at him, her expression unreadable, while Janu quietly sipped his wine.

    ¡®When the prince told me to come here, I asked for permission to go home first. I¡¯d only been allowed to write, before. The war wouldn¡¯t let me leave. Certainly not with home being the enemy. I wanted to see if you¡¯d come with me, maybe, or...¡¯ He shook his head. ¡®I heard what happened.¡¯

    ¡®Your mother told you?¡¯ Galnai snorted. ¡®She wouldn¡¯t have told a truthful tale.¡¯

    ¡®She didn¡¯t tell anything. She died a few months after father.¡¯ He looked Galnai in the eyes. ¡®Rumour says you killed him. I don¡¯t know if that¡¯s true, but I would have killed him myself if I¡¯d known. I¡¯m sorry.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m not looking for pity,¡¯ said Galnai, but her words were softer than usual.

    ¡®This isn¡¯t pity.¡¯ The muscles worked silently in Ilarion¡¯s jaw. ¡®When I figured out what had happened, what he¡¯d done to you, I wanted to dig him up and kill him again.¡¯

    ¡®How did you figure that out? Your mother was the only other soul that knew, as far as I was aware, and she only used the knowledge to make my life more of a misery than it already was, the cow.¡¯

    ¡®I asked the healer what happened. When she told me what herbs she¡¯d had to give you, and knowing the timelines by then...¡¯ He shrugged. ¡®It didn¡¯t take much to draw conclusions. He deserved worse than you gave to him.¡¯ Then, after a long pause, his face took on a pained expression and he added, ¡®You, uh... You really couldn¡¯t tell a flightless dragon apart from a real one when you tried to get away, could you?¡¯

    Galnai narrowed her eyes. ¡®You would have made exactly the same mistake back then.¡¯

    ¡®It¡¯s just such an obvious thing in hindsight...¡¯

    With a groan, Galnai turned back to Janu. ¡®Are you happy now? Are you satisfied?¡¯

    Janu lowered his goblet and grinned. ¡®Happy, yes. Satisfied? I¡¯m starting to think I should have charged them for this.¡¯ One airing of old ills and they¡¯re already bickering like an old married couple. Which they were, he reminded himself. Now he just had to hope they weren¡¯t the kind who would devolve into screaming matches at the first sign of proper friction.

    <hr>

    No screaming matches manifested themselves in the next two days, and the evening of the full moon saw their full crew assemble by the shore of the Marble Lake along with many of the other inhabitants of Chorus. Most kept to the two eastern sides, where they could watch the serpents meet the moon-rise face on. Janu and the others walked west instead, hoping to find a secluded spot to work from. A few tourists went the same way, either less bothered about the direction of their display or happy to await the moon¡¯s passage to their side of the lake.

    The surface of the lake itself rippled more than usual. Several serpents kept breaching the water to hold their long bodies erect and stare at the moon before sinking back in.

    Heketas led the way to an irrigation ditch in silence. While the ditch was covered, no grate protected the opening into the lake. They kept the water level too shallow for serpents to swim through. It was just dark enough even with the full moon that they might slip in the open end without anyone noticing. They waited for a cloud to pass over the moon just in case, though. As the serpents slid back into the water like sinking logs, the thieves crept out of sight.

    ¡®Who of you are the strongest swimmers?¡¯ Divya asked, crouching so that her lap made a dry platform to prepare her materials on.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    Janu exchanged glances with the other three and shrugged. ¡®Not me, I imagine. I was never much good beyond staying afloat.¡¯

    ¡®Janu!¡¯ She tutted at him but didn¡¯t look, grinding some paste in a small bowl. ¡®You grew up by a river.¡¯

    ¡®Yes, and something different bit me each time I tried to swim in it. Not all of us are clever enough to be witches.¡¯

    Further into the ditch, Heketas shifted on his feet, disrupting the flow of water with quiet splashes.

    ¡®We can both swim,¡¯ said Ilarion from somewhere behind Janu. ¡®Galnai and I, that is.¡¯

    ¡®Then you both get to hold puppets.¡¯ Divya beckoned at them. ¡®Give them here first, though.¡¯

    Ilarion unslung the three puppets from his shoulder and passed them to Divya, who looped their strings around her wrist to stop them floating away. Given the nature of their approach to the palace, Ilarion had had to leave his maille behind. In just a wide shirt and baggy trousers, the lie of his bulk had disappeared, leaving him scrawny and uncertain. He hovered like a nervous gull as Divya cemented smooth little stones in place over the puppets¡¯ painted eyes, muttering under her breath.

    Once she had finished, she added another ingredient from her pouch to the paste and stood up. The puppets wriggled on their strings.

    ¡®Are you ready?¡¯ she asked.

    Janu checked the seal on his belt pouches holding the siren fruit and other useful tools. ¡®All good here.¡¯

    ¡®And here.¡¯ Heketas¡¯ voice wavered. He only had to carry their rope tied around his waist, but from the sound of it he might as well be hauling lead. Likely he had had too much to drink last night, as with every night.

    Galnai patted the large waterproof sack she carried over one shoulder. ¡®It¡¯ll weigh less in the water.¡¯

    With all their weapons in it, Janu doubted the sack would be as manageable as she claimed. She had taken care to trap some air in it, though, so perhaps she was right.

    Divya took something shiny from one of her pouches and pressed it into Heketas¡¯ hand. ¡®Each of you take one of these, then.¡¯ She passed another to Janu, and he realised it was a scale from the drakfish they had caught. It felt warm in his hand.

    ¡®What are we supposed to do with these?¡¯ Heketas asked.

    ¡®Before you get in the water, place it under your tongue,¡¯ Divya said, and when he made a disgusted noise she added, ¡®Do you want to breathe or not? Now for the final touch.¡¯

    She went back around their group, smearing a stripe of thick paste beneath each of their noses. As soon as she did Janu¡¯s, a wedge of aromas drove itself up into his nose ¨C citrus and tree oils and swamp-bottom sludge, all in one package. He gagged, curling his fingers and toes tight to resist the urge to wipe it straight back off.

    Preparations done, Divya handed one puppet string each to Galnai and Ilarion, keeping the last for herself. On her right hand now she wore a set of pointed artificial nail caps that Janu had never seen her use before.

    ¡®Alright. We¡¯re good to go. On my signal.¡¯ Janu stepped up to the edge of the ditch where it met the lake and peered about. Overhead, the moon passed in and out of patches of cloud. Mirroring its visibility beneath it, the serpents slid up and down in place, their wide hoods flared, their bodies straight. Some would die of exhaustion during the dance, apparently, too exhausted from the energy required to stay so long erect.

    ¡®Don¡¯t forget the scales,¡¯ Divya said. Since she would be going first, she stood beside Janu. Her drakfish scale flashed in the corner of his eyes as she placed it under her tongue.

    No one was looking their way, that Janu could see, besides a couple of guards on the walls. He had to hope they were too distracted by the serpents.

    He tapped Divya on the shoulder. ¡®Go.¡¯

    She knelt by the water¡¯s edge then dived in, making barely any noise, and shimmied away like an otter beneath the surface. Her puppet trailed after her. Janu blinked, and the next moment he couldn¡¯t tell it apart from a real serpent. Squinting just made his eyes hurt.

    When he checked on the guards again, they hadn¡¯t moved, so he motioned for Ilarion and Heketas to go. Ilarion made a good attempt at mimicking Divya¡¯s entry, but Heketas just flopped into the water with a splash loud enough that Janu pressed himself back against the wall. He bit down on his lip, sure they must have attracted the guards¡¯ attention.

    ¡®Janu.¡¯ Galnai¡¯s whisper made him jump. ¡®I don¡¯t think Heketas can actually swim.¡¯

    ¡®What?¡¯ Glancing left, he could just about make out the dark, flailing outline of Ilarion and Heketas beneath their puppet. They hadn¡¯t gone far, or deep, and ripples disturbed the surface.

    Janu swore. The guards hadn¡¯t moved. ¡®Let¡¯s get after them.¡¯

    As Galnai slid into the water, he clamped his drakfish scale beneath his tongue. With the paste¡¯s scent already assaulting his nostrils, he couldn¡¯t even taste the scale, but its presence made his reflexes hover between swallowing and spitting it out. He pressed his tongue hard against the back of his teeth and crawled to the ditch¡¯s edge on his stomach. Water half covered him already. He shimmied out to the end of the ditch, took a deep, stinking breath through his nose, then plunged his head under and pulled himself into the lake.

    For the next few seconds he held his breath. Chill water stung his eyes, but he could still make out Galnai ahead of him. He swam three strokes after her before letting out and taking in an involuntary breath. He stopped in a momentary panic, but only the same stinking air flooded his nostrils.

    Divya¡¯s magic was working.

    Bubbles disrupted the view beyond Galnai. Between blinks, Janu saw that Ilarion had turned around, trying to deal with Heketas¡¯ flailing limbs. The man kept trying to break for the surface. Every now and then his face emerged from the bubbles, eyes screwed tight shut, neck muscles taut like cables. He only stopped flailing when Galnai reached in and grabbed him by the throat. His eyes shot open and he scrabbled at her hand.

    Galnai gestured at Heketas, then the direction of the palace, adding a few more pointed gestures into the mix for good measure.

    Heketas nodded. But when Galnai let stopped choking him, he automatically open his mouth for air and water rushed in. His eyes bulged and he shut his mouth only to choke again and spit out his drakfish scale.

    Janu thrust forwards through the water, his whole focus on the shimmering little thing. Reaching an arm forwards, he snatched at it, but it bounced off his knuckle and twisted away. He caught it on the third attempt. By the time he turned back around, the other three were directly above him. He raised his arms to start back up, then stopped.

    A shadow resolved in the distant water ¨C a round shape with a thinner strip stretching out to either side. Each moment brought it closer. Janu froze. He could see the serpent¡¯s body moving side to side behind it now. Would it notice him if he moved? Had it already noticed him? More important, perhaps: how long could Heketas hold his breath?

    The serpent must have been three yards away when it angled up, the solid wall of its hood sweeping past the other three. The frills on its tail trailed along Ilarion¡¯s head as it passed.

    Janu pressed on. He passed the scale to Galnai as soon as she came within reach, and she unceremoniously shoved it back in Heketas¡¯ mouth before clamping her hand over it. The man forced a breath through his nose, then blew out a stream of bubbles.

    Above their heads, the serpent examined one of the puppets. It nudged it with its nose a few times before growing bored and sliding away across the surface.

    The four of them resumed their journey to the palace, except this time, Ilarion and Janu each took one of Heketas¡¯ arms and pulled.

    When they reached the wall of the palace, Divya had already been at work for some time. The pointed tips of her capped fingers met by the base of the grate, funnelling a constant stream of water from the surrounding area into one narrow jet that cut straight through the stone. She didn¡¯t look up at their arrival, but untied the puppet from her wrist with her free hand. She grabbed the dangling end of the string and gave it a sharp tug, setting the puppet above drifting away from the wall. Galnai followed suit, as did Ilarion once he had let go of Heketas.

    Janu pushed Heketas up to the wall and let him go, hoping he would find a solid surface reassuring enough not to panic again. Then he used his hands to walk up the wall until he was just beneath the surface. Kicking to stay afloat, he took a small circle of smooth glass and a pouch of paste from one of his belt pouches. The paste, he applied just above the waterline by squeezing the pouch¡¯s contents onto the wall. Then he pressed the glass against it and held it there as hard as he could, counting ten heartbeats before letting go. The glass stuck. Satisfied, he pulled himself back down.

    Something struck his foot. He jerked away, pressing himself against the wall, but it was just the grate. Divya had just cut the last connecting piece and pulled it out. It fell away below them, bouncing off the wall a couple of times before moving out of sight.

    As Janu got closer, he realised there was a strong current pulling him closer to the new hole. Maybe it was stronger now they had taken out the grate. He tried to slow himself by clinging onto the wall, but it offered no handholds and his fingers only scraped over the stone. Behind Divya, the others didn¡¯t seem to be having the same problem, but he noticed a strange shimmer in the water around her, like a shield of sorts. Her pointed fingers moved in rhythmic patterns. She must have been holding them back.

    Janu grabbed the top of the opening when he reached it and crouched in the gap, feet pressed against the bottom edge. Water pressed against his back, but he couldn¡¯t see where it went inside. Beyond a foot or so, it all went white with motion. He threw a questioning glance Divya¡¯s way and she just passed the coil of rope over from Ilarion.

    He didn¡¯t like the thought of going in and not being able to get back out or signal for help, but he took the rope anyway. He wound one end through a few grate openings that remained around the cut edges, then tied it off and took a good hold of the rest.

    With a last look back at the others ¨C Divya¡¯s bored professionalism, Heketas¡¯ thinly veiled terror, Galnai and Ilarion¡¯s impatience ¨C Janu threw himself feet forwards through the gap. The current took him with the force of a galloping horse. One moment he was blind, water rushing all around, the rope burning in his hands. The next moment, he flew out into air and almost swallowed his scale in surprise.

    Just before he fell back into the stream, he looked down. Twenty feet down, the waterfall ended in a wide stream cut into the rock ¨C and another wall, with another grate.

 19. The Voice of the Mountains

    For what felt like weeks, Anshar, Ushuene and several other dragons discussed their next course of action. Maybe it was weeks ¨C Popilia kept forgetting to keep track of the days, and their edges blurred when she tried to count them in her memory. However long it took them, Nazagin had grown to the size of a horse by the time Anshar finally returned.

    The two of them were sitting at the lunch spot, Popilia kicking her legs against the side of her rock, Nazagin sunning her wings in the early summer heat. Popilia had her eyes closed, but she could get a feel for her surroundings through Nazagin¡¯s train of thought. Or some of them, anyway ¨C Nazagin¡¯s full attention lay on the dragons wheeling through the air above them. Impatience radiated off her. That soon turned to excitement when she realised one of the figures was Anshar, flying their way.

    Popilia opened her eyes in time to see him land. A strong, musty scent washed across her in his wake ¨C he hadn¡¯t bathed in a while, she gathered. It showed in the unkempt pattern of his feathers, too, and dust clung to the bottom of his fronds.

    ¡®It has been decided,¡¯ he said. Weariness hung on every word, but he held his head high. ¡®We break the bonds as much as we are able today.¡¯

    ¡®Today?¡¯ Popilia slid from her rock. Excitement bounced between her and Nazagin, but some of that earlier impatience remained. ¡®What took so long to decide?¡¯

    Anshar turned his head towards the distant white figure of Ushuene, who reclined in the spot where she had first spoken to them. ¡®We have much to be wary of, still. And a few items to consider. Namely, whether we should wait for the thieves to retrieve the carven horn or not. I argued that we should, as it would strengthen my magic while depriving Critobulus of any advantage. It would be ill for me to work this change only for him to redo it all the stronger.¡¯

    ¡®So why aren¡¯t we waiting?¡¯ No one told Popilia much, though she didn¡¯t know if anyone knew how the thieves were getting on. Who knew how long it would take them to return?

    ¡®Ushuene-amaak does not have enough faith that the thieves will be successful. Ilarion has been sending us favourable reports by drakling, but... well, even I must acknowledge that the man is an unfailing optimist. They will still play their part ¨C we will likely need the horn to fully break the bonds, and in any case it belongs to us ¨C but we will not wait for them.¡¯

    Popilia couldn¡¯t help but feel a little offended on the thieves¡¯ behalf. They had stolen her, after all. That was more impressive than some old horn, surely? She knew the palace, though. It wouldn¡¯t be easy. It wasn¡¯t even like some of the more fun castles her parents had taken her to with secret ways in and out that she could have told them about. Not unless Critobulus had made his own.

    Thinking of Critobulus, she froze, then asked Anshar, ¡®What if you start doing your magic and Critobulus decides to use the horn against you?¡¯

    Anshar huffed. ¡®That was my argument. We must only hope my magic is stronger, or his takes longer to work.¡¯

    ¡®That¡¯s not what I meant. If he goes to use the horn at the same time as the thieves are trying to steal it...¡¯

    ¡®Ah, I see.¡¯ Scuffing the ground with one foot, he said, ¡®We did discuss that possibility, briefly. Ushuene deemed it worth the risk.¡¯

    ¡®Oh.¡¯ Popilia¡¯s shoulders slumped and a weight settled in her chest. She hadn¡¯t known the thieves long and they had, after all, kidnapped her... but she had seen what her family did to people who wronged them. She hadn¡¯t seen what Critobulus did in the same situation, but it was certainly worse.

    ¡®They will be fine,¡¯ said Nazagin, her bright eyes sparkling. Reassurance nudged at Popilia¡¯s mind. ¡®They¡¯re good thieves.¡¯

    Sure Nazagin was only reacting to her discomfort, Popilia sighed, then shook her head. ¡®I hope you¡¯re right.¡¯ After all, if they didn¡¯t succeed now, when would she ever get to go home? And what state would she find home in?

    In the rest of the valley, dragons flew with purpose and those who didn¡¯t fly conducted their activities with more haste than usual. It had become a hive of activity as they talked. Following their movements, Popilia traced it all back to one of the far hillsides. She couldn¡¯t see it properly from here, but she remembered climbing all over it the other week ¨C there the cliffside formed a natural amphitheatre, and the dirt beneath had been packed tight into a bowl by the passage of many dragons. Musical wind tubes had been carved into each step of the amphitheatre so that a continuous tune played there, a fraction different wherever you stood.

    Anshar followed her gaze. ¡®Yes, it seems I¡¯m to have an audience for this ritual.¡¯

    ¡®Couldn¡¯t you ask them all to go away?¡¯

    He laughed, though it sounded more like a cough from his throat. ¡®I could, and they would like as not respect that. But it is after all a thing that affects us all, and perhaps a moment of history. I am not so fresh from the shell to let shyness overcome me, so don¡¯t you worry.¡¯ Then he turned and crouched down, holding his wings away from his body. ¡®Climb on now and I¡¯ll take you there.¡¯

    Popilia let Nazagin go first, scrambling onto Anshar¡¯s back like a lizard up a wall, with less grace. Then she followed and settled herself behind her. It would be far more reassuring if dragons all wore saddles, but she trusted Anshar to remember her and not turn upside-down during flight.

    As he bunched his muscles to jump, Popilia asked, ¡®Do you need us for this ritual as well?¡¯

    Leaping into the air, the rush of wind prevented Anshar from replying for a few moments. At last, with the lake speeding past beside them, he said, ¡®Yes, but as a focus only. You will be in no danger, and your bond will be at no risk of reemerging.¡¯

    That wasn¡¯t Popilia¡¯s fear. For several weeks, she had been privy to the pointed gazes of any dragon who noticed her. To have all of those semi-hostile eyes upon her at once... She wanted to curl up on Anshar¡¯s back and hide. Nothing in her imperial life had induced such anxiety as this. Everyone back home had at least always been ambivalent about seeing her.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    ¡®You don¡¯t need to sit apart, this time,¡¯ Anshar said. His casual flight had already brought them to the amphitheatre, its hum climbing over the noise of his wingbeats. He touched down at the edge of the bowl on his hind legs before dropping to all fours. ¡®Climb off here and sit together at the edge of the circle. I¡¯ll be standing in the middle.¡¯

    With a nod, Popilia shimmied down one foreleg and landed on the floor. Her knees ached at the impact. Anshar¡¯s bulk blocked out much of the amphitheatre seating except the very top and sides¨C perhaps all the attention wouldn¡¯t be on her after all.

    Murmurs that would have been ordinary conversation for humans travelled around the amphitheatre in the dragons¡¯ fluting language. Combined with the constant tune from the carved instruments, it felt much like standing at the bottom of a waterfall.

    Anshar began his ritual with neither preamble nor explanation. Critobulus would have made a public ceremony like this a show, but Anshar clearly considered his companions more witness than audience. He already had his bowls and jars arranged beneath a stone table at the centre of the circle. Then he dipped into several at once with claws on both of his forelegs and headed to the edge of the circle.

    In great sweeps and swirling arcs of black ash, he began to paint a pattern on the floor. He stepped lightly and held his tail above the ground, careful not to disturb any of the lines he had already painted, leaving the centre clear for him to move.

    Watching from the sidelines, Popilia recognised the general shape of the pattern. It matched the paint on his ceiling ¨C not fully, but in spirit and form.

    The dragons in the audience bobbed and bent their heads to follow Anshar¡¯s work, but their murmurs had fallen silent. Nothing remained to interrupt Anshar but the wind, and even that had ebbed.

    When Anshar reached Popilia and Nazagin, he drew a perfect circle on the ground around them. At its edges, he connected the surrounding patterns. How the ash kept flowing, Popilia had no idea. He rarely dipped into the central pots, but the ash kept coming, thick and dark. Even when he stepped up onto the table and connected all the outer patterns to a new web radiating from the centre, his lines never broke nor faltered. The lines themselves weren¡¯t always stark edges. Some faded into gradients on one or both edges. Some had no end and became lost to the noise of scattered ash around them. They lent a shape to the pattern, monochrome peaks and troughs forming a landscape too easy for Popilia¡¯s eyes to get lost in.

    A deep hum built in Anshar¡¯s throat, breaking his silence. Popilia waited for his familiar song or chanting, but it never came. Instead he modulated the pitch of his hum to harmonise with the wind¡¯s tune. All the while, he sat on the table and continued the patterns on his own hide. Only when he had finished did he chant one drawn-out line. It cut off suddenly, like a door had slammed on his voice. All the lines he had drawn glowed green. Particles of ash rose from the pattern and hovered in the air.

    Popilia held her breath, one hand on Nazagin¡¯s shoulder, expecting the light to die away like it had the other times. But it stayed, and after a few more seconds, Anshar began to sing.

    He began low and quiet, not much different to a chant. Moment by moment, he altered the notes and raised the pitch. The wind responded to his voice. The ash in the air made its passage clear, and it twisted like a living thing, changing as it did the tune of its music. In the audience, the dragons began to harmonise as well. Some hummed. Some chanted. Some joined with Anshar¡¯s song with no delay or hesitation.

    How did they know the words? Popilia eyed Nazagin. Was it some inherent dragon thing?

    Don¡¯t look at me, Nazagin thought at her. I don¡¯t know it either. But listen. Something is wrong.

    Popilia strained her ears. There was so much going on, she couldn¡¯t tell if anything was out of place. I don¡¯t hear anything.

    Then hear through me.

    The boundaries between their minds blurred, creating that strange world of impossibly wide angles that they had experienced in the last ritual. Popilia rocked back, struck by a sense of something else being there with them, as if the ritual circle was the base of a tree and invisible branches loomed above them all.

    That isn¡¯t it, Nazagin said. That¡¯s just Anshar¡¯s magic. Her thoughts grasped for understanding, but slipped off in frustration. I can¡¯t explain it. It just is.

    So Popilia searched for something else. Nazagin had said to listen, so she shut her eyes to concentrate better and Nazagin did the same. Something felt... off. It took three whole lines of Anshar¡¯s song for her to put her finger on it, and in that time his words grew harsher.

    Some other voice chanted alongside all the others. No, not alongside, but against, and in some broken key that clashed with everything it touched. When she opened her eyes, she figured she could see the shape of it in the currents of the wind-borne ash. Anshar must have noticed ¨C he stood tense, straight legged, straining with effort.

    Through the invisible branches came another sensation, brief and fleeting. Popilia tried to grab hold of it. It was like the touch of Nazagin¡¯s mind, but at great distance and unfamiliar. By the upwards glances of the dragons in the audience, she was sure they felt the same.

    The feeling passed. The discordant voice grew strong, almost to the point of forming distinguishable words. Familiarity tickled Popilia¡¯s brain. She had heard that voice before...

    Wind surged around the edge of the amphitheatre, picking up dust and ash from the edge of the bowl and flinging it into the air so that it made a hazy barrier from the outside world. It rattled through the wind tubes, gritty and chaotic. The tune faltered on a new foundation of static. Anshar¡¯s voice rang out louder than ever, but there was a desperation in it now. His gaze flicked back and forth in the storm, searching for something.

    In the next moment with a flash of green like sheet lightning above them, that sensation came back. The touch of many minds flooded into the circle and by their presence, joined the audience to it.

    Popilia reeled at the sudden mental energy of all those dragons opposite her, and more. Their shapes swirled ethereal in the ash trails of the circle, their flight harsh and anguished. Emotions radiated off them like furnace heat: desperate fear, deep-seated anger, and above all a gut-wrenching yearning to be free.

    The bonded dragons. Popilia balled her hands into fists, excitement barely breaking through the second-hand fear. If they were here, was Anshar about to free them?

    The lines glowed brighter. Anshar¡¯s tail weaved through the air around the table, stirring the ash currents like a ladle, but chaos still rippled through them.

    On the back of another howl of wind, the other voice returned, louder than ever, its words harsh and undeniably human. Undeniably Critobulus. For a second his voice overlapped with Anshar¡¯s, battling for control, and the suggestion of some great mind loomed in the spaces between his words. Then with an almighty whump a fist of air punched down from the top of the amphitheatre. It struck the floor, scattering the pattern. Ash and feathers and pottery fragments flew outwards in a wall of debris.

    Popilia screwed her eyes shut and shielded her face with her arms. Grit sandblasted her skin. Something hard bounced off her funny bone and she yelped in pain. The tip of a feather or a stick scratched the back of her hand.

    Then all fell silent.

    After a couple of seconds to catch her breath, Popilia opened her eyes. The light had gone. The ash had been wiped out, leaving only a grey smear on the ground and over Anshar¡¯s feathers. The ritual had failed.

    Anshar stood still in the centre of the circle, his foreclaws gripping the edge of the table, his throat pulsing as he panted for air. He shook his head, then pointed his gaze to the northwest, where Chorus lay. He ignored the increasing murmurs amongst the dragons in the audience.

    ¡®There is something else at play here,¡¯ he said. ¡®Something beyond the power of the horn.¡¯

    Popilia recalled the sense of another mind behind Critobulus¡¯ words and shuddered. Critobulus had a powerful ally. If Anshar and all these dragons couldn¡¯t stop them, just who were they? She hoped the thieves, stuck in the palace with no idea of any of this, wouldn¡¯t have to find out the hard way.

 20. Flight of the Dragon Guard

    It took Janu several attempts to pass the message back through the hole they had made that it was safe to enter. Every time he stuck his hand back through the waterfall he worried the force of it would send him flying and make him lose his grip on the rope. It almost did, but he managed to regain control. He only had time for a quick ¡®all clear; use rope¡¯ signal when he finally shoved his arm far enough before being pushed back out. At least, he hoped it was far enough. And he wished he could have warned them about the waterfall.

    Not wanting to be kicked in the face by whoever came next, he started climbing hand over hand down the rope. He would have preferred to loop the end about his back and slide down with his feet against the wall like they usually did, but two things stopped him. First, in the heat of the moment he hadn¡¯t thought to double-tie the rope. Second, as the roar of water just behind his head reminded him, he¡¯d likely stick his head into the waterfall and get swept away without thinking.

    He was halfway to the floor when the pitch of the waterfall changed. He fastened his grip on the rope just in time ¨C Heketas came shooting out of the hole, his momentum jerking Janu back into the water. It slammed into him, knocking his legs away from the rope. A second later he reemerged, spluttering, hands burning where they had begun to slip.

    When he looked up, Heketas¡¯ feet were about three inches from his face.

    Biting back some unkind words, Janu said, ¡®Watch out below you.¡¯

    Heketas just shivered and gave a hiss of pain. If he¡¯d slid down that far, he had probably scraped his hands raw.

    Janu kept going down, his shoulders burning, palms chafing at the bite of the wet rope. He had to be fast. Too slow and he would either run out of strength or the next person would land on Heketas¡¯ head. Or Heketas himself would ¨C if only they didn¡¯t need his knowledge of the palace. So far he had proved himself more liability than help.

    As soon as his feet touched the stream below, Janu swung aside and jumped onto the narrow ledge beside it, then moved along to make space for Heketas. He took the scale out from under his tongue and pocketed it, relishing the ability to relax his jaw muscles again.

    Darkness gripped the room ¨C he could only make out details by the dim firelight coming through the grate and whatever moonlight refracted through the waterfall. It wasn¡¯t much, but made the top of the waterfall seem luminous. A shadow obstructed it for a moment as someone else flew through the hole. The rope jerked again, but Heketas was heavy enough and far enough down that the motion didn¡¯t fling him into the water like it had for Janu.

    When Heketas joined him on the ledge, he made more pained noises and examined his hands. Pink watery blood covered them. The skin of his palms was tattered, with red patches where the rope had worn it away.

    ¡®Do you think we¡¯ll need the rope again?¡¯ Janu asked him.

    ¡®I bloody hope not.¡¯ He made a few experimental clenches of his hands, wincing. ¡®Didn¡¯t know that drop was there. We never went up the stream.¡¯

    If Heketas had known how deep this level was, and where the grate was, it surely wouldn¡¯t have taken much common sense to put the two together and realise it had to descend. But Janu didn¡¯t mention that. Or the lack of his swimming abilities. That was done and gone. They had to focus on the way ahead, now.

    Janu walked over to the next grate and knelt to examine it. It was exactly the same as the first, made of stone with no screws or any way to open it. Divya would have to cut through this one, too. At least the stream continued flat as far as he could see after it, but how many more grates would they have to get through? And how long until someone noticed the other was open? Below the waterline, it shouldn¡¯t be too obvious, but the lake water was clear enough that he couldn¡¯t count on that to save them.

    Five minutes later, everyone had made it to the bottom of the waterfall. Divya, being the best swimmer of all of them, came last and headed for the second grate at once. Janu didn¡¯t need to say anything ¨C she just set to work cutting. This time, he could see the water coursing up to her hand from the stream and forming into a thin jet by her fingers. Water witches must have many such tricks up their sleeves, known only to them.

    While they waited, Galnai unwrapped the bundle of weapons and handed them out. Ilarion visibly relaxed when she handed him his sword belt. Heketas examined his own sword for damage and wiped it carefully on his trousers ¨C perhaps not realising that his trousers were soaked and until then, his sword was perfectly dry. It had the imperial stamp on it, so must have been awarded during his service. Heketas had kept in it better condition than himself.

    Just as Divya was moving onto the last side, a deep bass note reverberated through the floor above them. Janu froze, his heart thudding in his chest. Distant trumpets sounded at the edge of his hearing.

    ¡®Is that the alarm?¡¯ Galnai asked, looking at Heketas.

    Heketas shook his head. A spark of awe flickered in his eyes, but his face had grown pale. ¡®Not unless they¡¯re planning to send the whole dragon guard down here.¡¯Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡®What do you mean?¡¯ Janu fumbled at his belt pouches for the second glass disc. ¡®What is it?¡¯

    ¡®It¡¯s the summons for the dragon guard. I¡¯ve never heard it before, but some of the older guards talked about it. It sounded during the war, whenever they wanted to rally the guard for an attack.¡¯ He stared up at the top of the waterfall. ¡®Gods, but I¡¯d love to see it. The whole guard in the sky at once. More dragons in one place than anywhere, surely.¡¯

    Ilarion grimaced, but said nothing and stepped over to join Janu. He managed to get the disc out and cradled it in his hand, squinting to get a clear picture. This glass should be linked to the one he had pasted to the wall outside, but it was poor magic, and he couldn¡¯t make out much beyond variations in light and shade that could have just been the glass itself. He held it against the pale stone wall above Divya for a better picture.

    Details resolved in the glass, first the pale surface of the lake reflecting moonlight, then the dark line of the distant shore. Serpents still rose and fell in their trance, their eyes glinting.

    ¡®I can¡¯t see anything new,¡¯ Janu said. ¡®We should have had one of your draklings carry the other glass around for a better view.¡¯

    Ilarion shook his head. ¡®They can¡¯t follow complex instructions. That would be beyond them.¡¯

    Trumpets sounded again, but with different notes this time.

    ¡®That must be the call for departure,¡¯ said Heketas, then muscled in next to Janu and Ilarion. ¡®Let me look at that.¡¯

    Janu suppressed a flash of annoyance. ¡®There¡¯s nothing¡ª¡¯

    Just then a dark shape passed onto the top of the glass disc, followed by another and another. Ilarion touched two fingers to the rim of the glass and muttered some words under his breath in something akin to the canter¡¯s tongue. The picture in the glass brightened until it was like daylight, and the view shifted closer to the shapes in the sky.

    They were dragons. Dozens of them, in every colour and size, bedecked in gold and silk that shimmered in the moonlight. Their riders bore bristling packs of javelins and held long, pennant-hung lances. Unlike their mounts, they wore exquisite armour over their silks and thick woollen cloaks over that.

    The thieves watched, breathless, as the dragon guard wheeled and flew from left to right, gaining speed until they had left the scope of the lens entirely. Like a spider, the thought of them being somewhere out of sight made Janu¡¯s skin crawl. It might not matter what they stole here if a company of claws and teeth was waiting for them when they emerged. But they had left, for now it seemed.

    ¡®Where are they going?¡¯ Janu asked. Not towards them, at least, but if war was the last time they had been called like this, what had prompted it now?

    Heketas ran a hand over his chin, leaving bloody streaks. ¡®That¡¯s east, if they don¡¯t turn again. Maybe southeast.¡¯

    From the way Ilarion tensed, Janu could guess at his thoughts. That way lay Kimah-Kur and the heart of the dragons¡¯ territory.

    ¡®We need to warn them,¡¯ Ilarion said at last.

    Heketas frowned. ¡®Warn who?¡¯

    Janu shook his head. ¡®We¡¯re not getting out the same way we came in. How are you going to get a message to them?¡¯

    ¡®I can try.¡¯ Ilarion eyed the waterfall. His hand drifted to the buckle of his sword belt.

    Divya spoke up before he could start undoing it. ¡®Don¡¯t bother. Is this a message to your dragons? If you tell me how to send it, I can do so for you ¨C it is no matter. If a drakfish can climb rapids, so can I.¡¯

    ¡®Dragons?¡¯ Mouth agape, Heketas seemed more like a fish in that moment than Divya. ¡®You have your own dragons?¡¯

    ¡®We don¡¯t have anything.¡¯ Ilarion¡¯s words were sharp. ¡®But we¡¯re working for the dragons, yes. For their freedom.¡¯

    Too many gears were grinding in slow confusion in Heketas¡¯ head for him to reply.

    Ilarion turned to Divya, who had two more bars to cut through. ¡®I have a whistle you¡¯ll need to blow above the surface. Don¡¯t worry about anyone hearing you ¨C it¡¯s pitched for drakling ears. Dragons can hear it if they¡¯re close enough, but I doubt it will be enough to turn the guard around.¡¯ As he talked, Divya nodded. ¡®Wait for a drakling to appear, then say to it, "Tell Ushuene-amaak: We think the empire is sending its dragon guard to fight you in Kimah-Kur. We saw them leave the night of the full moon." Then tell it to go.¡¯

    Divya made an impressed grunt. ¡®Draklings can understand all that?¡¯

    ¡®Understand? No, not exactly. They just know to relay the words.¡¯

    Janu hooked his thumbs through his belt and tapped his toes against the floor, chin against his chest. His nerves jittered and tingled along his spine. Over the long course of his thievery, he had learned to listen to that feeling, and it had never been as strong as it was now.

    ¡®Divya,¡¯ he asked, ¡®if you can get out, could you get the rest of us out as well?¡¯

    She nodded. ¡®We¡¯re not trapped here, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re worrying over. We can leave when you have what you came for.¡¯

    He twisted his belt in his grip, avoiding the others¡¯ gazes. He poured his thoughts out quickly so no one could interrupt. ¡®I think we should leave now. It¡¯s too dangerous. If the empire knows enough to send their guard out to Kimah-Kur, they might know enough to come after us. It¡¯s just a matter of finding us, and that¡¯s just a matter of time, so the sooner we leave, the better.¡¯

    ¡®Are you mad?¡¯ Ilarion took half a step forwards, his brow furrowed, his hand on the pommel of his sword. ¡®Now is the perfect time to continue. It¡¯s highly unlikely they know we¡¯re here, so if nothing else, whatever has taken them to Kimah-Kur will work as a distraction in our favour. And whatever that reason is, I should imagine it means the dragons need our help now more than ever. If we take the source of Critobulus¡¯ power away from him, they¡¯ll have the advantage. We can¡¯t deprive them of that. Not at an hour so critical.¡¯

    Janu closed his eyes. Fraidun wouldn¡¯t have even suggested they leave. He would have dived right in all the faster. And yes, that sort of thinking would have got him killed or jailed on several occasions, but he always wanted to help. In his heart, Janu could already feel a shadow of the guilt that would eat away at him if he walked now. It wasn¡¯t about money anymore. It was about doing the right thing and ¨C the one piece Fraidun lacked ¨C being in the right place at the right time to do that right thing.

    ¡®Ilarion¡¯s right, Janu.¡¯ Galnai kept her voice quiet but firm, and it just cut across the noise of the waterfall. ¡®We can¡¯t back out now.¡¯

    Opening his eyes, he saw the conviction on her face. Galnai, who never cared. Galnai, pragmatic to a fault. Galnai, ready to keep going with their mission no matter what it might cost them.

    Stone scraped behind him and he turned to see Divya lowering the grate into the stream. She spared a glance back over her shoulder. ¡®The way ahead is clear. You still want me to send that message?¡¯

    Janu let out a great rush of breath, then nodded. ¡®Send it. We¡¯ll keep moving. Let¡¯s find this horn and get out of here.¡¯

 21. Into the Fray

    In the aftermath of Anshar¡¯s failed ritual, Popilia and Nazagin made their way back to their temporary home. Neither talked to the other, though the sadness and disappointment of that morning spread between their minds as readily as any words could. Anshar himself remained at the amphitheatre, deep in discussion with Ushuene and the other dragons. Popilia hadn¡¯t even realised Ushuene had been at the ritual until the end, when she approached Anshar with her white feathers stained ash-grey on one side.

    As they reached the lip of Anshar¡¯s home, Popilia looked out over the valley. Clouds gathered in the distance, indistinct in the haze, like a grey veil around the mountains.

    She absent-mindedly ran her fingers over the whorls and knots in the sculpture by the entrance. How far did Critobulus¡¯ magic reach? Popilia pictured him watching them even now, a giant face hidden by the haze in the sky above, and shuddered.

    ¡®He is not a nice man,¡¯ said Nazagin, picking up on her thoughts.

    ¡®No, he¡¯s not.¡¯ Popilia didn¡¯t even know him. Not really. But who could do what he had done and be called nice? He was fully aware of the dragons¡¯ intelligence, and still he fought to bind them and keep them bound.

    Nazagin paced along the edge of the lip, her tail twitching with irritation. Her need crept into Popilia¡¯s mind: to be doing something, anything, to keep her mind off the ritual. Somewhere mixed in there was something like guilt, but the moment Popilia noticed it, it vanished with a flicker of anger. So she decided not to mention it.

    ¡®Do you want to try fishing?¡¯ Nazagin asked.

    Popilia nodded. Let her bleed off her pent-up energy. She needed to exercise her growing limbs, anyway. And with the adults occupied in talk, they might as well catch their own dinner.

    ¡®Let¡¯s go while it¡¯s quiet,¡¯ she said, and they set off back down the slope together, trying to fix their minds on anything else but the day¡¯s failure.

    <hr>

    When Popilia woke the next morning, it was to the familiar sound of Anshar rattling bowls and jars on his workbench. Except this time was different. As she stood to the side rubbing sleep from her eyes, Anshar picked out several of the smallest jars and placed them beneath the bench, on the floor. He had already painted himself with white and red markings. They didn¡¯t flow, this time. In fact, they made Popilia think of meat, with white dashes and curves as the bones and red joining them as muscles and flesh.

    ¡®Are you doing another ritual?¡¯ she asked, since there wasn¡¯t a chant or song to interrupt.

    Anshar glanced up from his preparations. ¡®I have done half of it. In a moment, I will do the rest.¡¯ He sighed. ¡®It has been to long since I have worked such magic.¡¯

    ¡®So you¡¯re trying a different way to break the bond?¡¯

    The muscles of his face tightened a fraction, and he shook his head. ¡®No, I was on the right track with yesterday¡¯s ritual, but it seems it is a magic that must be worked closer to the source. Or at the very least, there is something new for me to investigate, and I will not be able to do so sitting here.¡¯

    Popilia screwed her face up. ¡®The source? You¡¯re going to the palace?¡¯

    ¡®I am, yes.¡¯

    ¡®And you think no one will notice?¡¯ She cocked her head to one side, taking in the size of Anshar. Dragons didn¡¯t just walk down the street in Chorus, and when they flew, they always had riders. She tried to picture Anshar strolling through the park or swimming across the lake. If the dragon guard didn¡¯t try to kill him or drive him away, Critobulus would surely try to bind him. A lump caught in her throat. She couldn¡¯t let that happen to Anshar, but who was she to stop him?

    Pointing to the markings, Popilia asked, ¡®Will those make you invisible?¡¯

    ¡®Something like that.¡¯ He chuckled. ¡®We used to use this magic more often, you know, to walk amongst your kind undetected.¡¯

    ¡®Why?¡¯

    ¡®Well.¡¯ He picked up a large jug and poured its contents into a bowl of powder, then swirled the bowl before his face to mix it. One eye glittered at Popilia. ¡®Back then, you weren¡¯t quite so objectionable.¡¯

    A sweet, earthy smell wafted over from whatever concoction he had mixed. She drew in a deep breath, then wondered if just breathing the fumes would work any magic on her. Maybe they would both be invisible. She doubted invisibility ¨C or whatever this did ¨C would do them any favours. Anshar would just knock into everything in his path and make his presence obvious that way. Still, if it had worked in the past, surely it would work now.

    Anshar brought the bowl to his nose and sniffed, then gave a satisfied nod. As he hummed a few bars from a tune, the contents of the bowl began to steam. In one motion, he tipped his head back and poured the mixture into his mouth with barely a pause in the tune. He kept his head pointed at the ceiling, his eyes shut, and swayed from side to side with his music. It reminded Popilia of some old lullaby, but she couldn¡¯t place it.

    Between blinks, Anshar changed. He shrank, slow at first, then so fast that he looked like a deflating bladder. His tail retracted and disappeared completely. His neck reduced itself to a small stump. Each claw slid into the toe that held it like those of a cat. Instead of feathers, his hide became like cloth and his long fronds joined to become the folds of a long robe. A moment later, it wasn¡¯t Anshar that stood before the workbench anymore, but an old woman who barely came up to the level of the workbench. She had braided grey hair and wrinkled, nut brown skin, and when she turned to smile at Popilia, her gaze was clouded white.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡®Passable?¡¯ she asked, the only resemblance to Anshar¡¯s voice in its bumbling melody.

    Popilia realised her jaw had dropped open and shut it, nodding. Then she changed her mind and shook her head. ¡®They don¡¯t let just anyone walk into the palace, you know.¡¯

    ¡®Ah, but I am not just anyone, am I?¡¯ She winked and tapped her nose. ¡®I am the poor old herbalist who just happened to find the lost princess wandering around in the wilds.¡¯

    ¡®You¡¯re taking me home?¡¯ Popilia¡¯s heart leapt, though it was a shadowed excitement. The knowledge of everything Critobulus had done, of everything her parents had allowed him to do, lurked in the back of her mind.

    ¡®I am, yes.¡¯ Anshar set about packing the small jars on the floor into a rucksack. ¡®There is a large bounty on your head, you know. In bringing you back, I will gain access to the palace.¡¯

    Watching Anshar¡¯s industrious packing, Popilia wanted to join in, but she didn¡¯t have anything to pack. She had come here with a dragon and the clothes on her back, nothing more. A part of her rebelled at the idea of going home and needing to be dressed up and down so many times a day. Another part of her wondered if the palace guards would really let some old woman in because she happened to have found her. They would just pay her the bounty and take Popilia without letting Anshar past the gates. That¡¯s if they didn¡¯t get suspicious of how she ¡®happened¡¯ to have been found.

    So Popilia followed Anshar, now wearing the backpack, out to the entrance. Nazagin trailed behind her shoulder, her breath warm on her neck.

    ¡®What will you tell them?¡¯ she asked.

    Anshar stopped by the whorled sculpture. Behind her newly wrinkled form, Kimah-Kur was a hive of activity, busier than Popilia had ever seen it. A larger gathering of dragons that had been present for the ritual gathered where the amphitheatre lay, spilling out onto the ground around it with the steps full. Smaller gatherings kept breaking off and reconvening for discussion elsewhere. A few sharpened their claws and tail spikes on tall rocks.

    ¡®I¡¯ll tell them you were brave,¡¯ she said. ¡®That you waited for a moment when the thieves were distracted, then commanded Nazagin to break free and eat them. That you wandered in the wilderness for some time afterwards, lost and unable to fly to get your bearings. That you finally came across my house in the woods and asked for help.¡¯

    Eyeing up Nazagin with some trepidation, Popilia said, ¡®I don¡¯t think Nazagin is big enough to eat anyone now, let alone back then.¡¯

    Anshar made a strange laugh, half chuckle, half hum. ¡®Then I shall say you needed help with a terrible case of indigestion when you showed up. Believable enough?¡¯

    ¡®Maybe. At least you don¡¯t look like a thief.¡¯

    ¡®It is strange, how much stock your kind places in appearance to determine a person¡¯s nature.¡¯ She gazed out over the valley. ¡®Something else has happened. They¡¯re preparing for a fight. Come on, let us find out what¡¯s going on before we leave.¡¯

    They walked down the slope together, each of them marvelling at the continued activity around them. Popilia wasn¡¯t sure she had ever seen this many dragons in Kimah-Kur at once. Either more had flown in from elsewhere, or having them all stop their usual activities for whatever this was had simply revealed how many actually called this place home.

    Halfway to the amphitheatre, a white shape detached from the crowd and Ushuene flew over to meet them. She tilted her head from side to side to examine Anshar ¨C her new form clearly as much a novelty to her as it had been to Popilia.

    ¡®We have received word from the thieves,¡¯ Ushuene said. ¡®It sounds like they are in the palace as we speak.¡¯

    ¡®Have they found the horn?¡¯ Anshar asked, clutching her robes about her.

    Ushuene whipped her tail once in frustration. ¡®They did not say, so I imagine not. No, their message was a warning. They saw the empire¡¯s "dragon guard" flying towards Kimah-Kur. They could be here any moment. I was surprised the drakling outflew them, but it seems they don¡¯t know our exact location. Those I sent to scout the foothills spotted them combing the mountains to our south.¡¯

    A pained look creased Anshar¡¯s new face. ¡®My ritual must have drawn them to us. I should have conducted it elsewhere. If the horn¡ª¡¯

    ¡®You are not to blame for this.¡¯ Ushuene dropped her face to Anshar¡¯s level, her eyes narrowed. ¡®But I will hold you accountable if you don¡¯t get out of here before they arrive. It matters not how many failures it takes for you to succeed. We need you to finish this. Now fly from here, before it is too late!¡¯

    At the arrival of the grey dragon Popilia had seen at the standing stones, Anshar nodded. ¡®Good luck.¡¯

    Ushuene reared up again and raised her wings to leave. ¡®The bond is broken when the rider is felled. With luck, we shall free more of our kin today.¡¯

    Then with a sharp gust of wind, she was away, leaving Anshar, Popilia and Nazagin to clamber onto the grey dragon¡¯s back. Irritation prickled at Popilia¡¯s mind as Nazagin chafed to fly under her own power, but her wings hadn¡¯t developed enough yet. They still bore a good amount of hatchling fluff around the leading edges and where they met her back.

    ¡®Where do you want me to take you?¡¯ the grey dragon asked. Far in the distance, a trumpet sounded.

    ¡®As close to Chorus as you can get,¡¯ said Anshar. ¡®With their patrols occupied here, that might be further than usual. See what you find.¡¯

    Nodding, they grey dragon pounced up into the air, flapped three times for height, then angled off towards one of the lower parts of the valley wall in the west. With the morning sun at their backs, their shadow spread across the mountain before them, getting smaller and darker until it slipped over the edge completely and they followed above.

    Behind them, the trumpet sounded again, soon joined by another. Popilia whirled around in her seat. Just beyond the southern wall of the valley, a cloud of dragons approached. Sunlight flashed and gleamed in spots amongst them, and she could just make out a large banner flying beneath one of the larger dragons. It must have been half the entire dragon guard ¨C Popilia had only seen so many of them once before, for a jubilee parade. She could well imagine the gold that was catching the sunlight. Back then she had been awed and proud. Now, though... Their presence here was an intrusion. She dug her fingers into the feathers she clung onto.

    The dragons of Kimah-Kur rose up in one great swarm. Like a flock of starlings, their mass shifted and flowed, blocking the sun with their numbers. Then, as one, they turned to the south. Gleam the dragon guard might, but they had nowhere near the numbers of Kimah-Kur.

    Popilia wasn¡¯t sure the empire would win this one.

 22. Wandering in the Dark

    After the second grate, they ran out of ledge and had to wade along the fast-flowing stream. It chilled Janu¡¯s legs and ran as deep as his knees, the force of it threatening to knock him over. The firelight ahead of them gave him little to see by, but he could see an opening on the left up ahead. He tried to move as quietly as possible, but any nearby guard must hear their splashing.

    Stopping a moment, he waited for Heketas to catch up and took hold of his arm. ¡®You said you used to get assigned guard shifts down here, didn¡¯t you?¡¯

    Heketas blinked, then nodded. His face hadn¡¯t lost its shocked expression ever since he had heard them discussing the dragons. Janu hoped that wouldn¡¯t become a problem.

    ¡®Where did you stand guard?¡¯ Janu asked. ¡®Could you see the stream?¡¯

    ¡®No. Not this bit of it, anyway. It was... It was a weird duty. We just stayed in the barracks the whole time, bored as shit. Nothing ever happened. We just heard weird noises from whatever Critobulus was up to.¡¯ A hint of a grin crept back onto Heketas¡¯ face. ¡®Whether magic or women.¡¯

    ¡®And the barracks, do they have windows?¡¯

    ¡®It used to, but they all got bricked in before I ever went down there.¡¯ Heketas shrugged. ¡®I reckon Critobulus just got paranoid and didn¡¯t want anyone seeing where his secret door was. We weren¡¯t technically allowed out unless Critobulus called us, but the stream was the best place to go to piss. Just had to be careful to check Critobulus wasn¡¯t looking ¨C his chambers still have windows.¡¯

    ¡®If you weren¡¯t allowed out, what exactly were you meant to be guarding?¡¯

    ¡®Shit if I know. Not sure he even wanted us there.¡¯

    Janu stared downstream and sucked air through his teeth. If only his drakling-with-a-glass idea was feasible, they could have sent one to spy on Critobulus¡¯ whereabouts. The best they had was Heketas and his outdated knowledge of an infrequent posting. Make do with what you¡¯ve got, Janu.

    He pushed Heketas on ahead. ¡®You first. You know what to look out for. Let us know if the coast is clear.¡¯

    With a nod and a more determined expression, Heketas trudged forwards. He kept to the left side of the stream, so Janu made sure to follow in his wake. This approach kept them out of sight of anyone in the opening for as long as possible. No chatter or sounds of movement came from ahead, which could only be a good sign.

    At a quiet splash behind him, Janu looked back and picked out Divya¡¯s outline in the gloom. Their message was on its way, then.

    Instead of getting brighter the closer they came to the opening, the firelight dimmed. When they reached the corner, Janu looked around, confused. They hadn¡¯t passed any candles or lamps. And still it dimmed, even though they weren¡¯t moving. Sticking his hand out in front of him, he could only just make out his fingers.

    ¡®No one¡¯s there,¡¯ Heketas said.

    Janu flinched at the sound of his voice. ¡®What about the flame?¡¯

    ¡®That?¡¯ Heketas¡¯ silhouette shifted slightly. ¡®Just a lamp in one of the sconces. Someone must have left it lit. It¡¯s just about burned out.¡¯

    That left three options in Janu¡¯s mind: either someone had just left and gone into the palace, or they had gone through Critobulus¡¯ hidden door, or they had just forgotten to put more oil in their lamp. He didn¡¯t like any of those. Two left someone nearby or in their way. One still carried the possibility of a witness in Critobulus¡¯ windowed chamber.

    Heketas stepped out of the stream with a splash and a squelch. A few more squelches suggested he was walking around, and Janu winced at each one.

    ¡®Come on,¡¯ he called after a while. ¡®The windows are shuttered. We¡¯re all clear.¡¯

    ¡®Keep your voice down,¡¯ Janu hissed. ¡®What about the barracks?¡¯

    ¡®It¡¯s a thick door. They won¡¯t hear us.¡¯

    Biting his lip to cut off everything he wanted to say, Janu followed Heketas out of the stream. He emerged into a gaping blackness. Only the vague outline of a section of wall beside them was visible, lit by the dim orange glow of the oil lamp Heketas had mentioned. Beside its alcove lay the border of a window and the hint of a shutter pressed up against it.

    Janu patted the air around him until he found Heketas. ¡®Where are the barracks?¡¯

    ¡®This way.¡¯

    Picking up the lantern for what little light it would give, they shuffled across the room in the dark, arm in arm. A little circle of light haloed their footsteps, picking out the uneven surface of the floor beneath them, but it made no mark on the shadows until they reached another wall. Heketas inched along it, holding the lamp close. At length, they came to a door that stood slightly ajar.

    Janu froze. Anyone inside would have heard Heketas talking earlier. But Heketas went straight ahead and rubbed his hand on the door knob. When he held up his fingers to show Janu, they were covered in thick dust.

    Without saying anything, Heketas pulled the door open just enough to stick his head and the lamp through.

    ¡®It¡¯s empty,¡¯ he said, pulling back. ¡®Looks like it has been for a while.¡¯If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Janu let out a sigh of relief. ¡®Push the door to, then. Just in case.¡¯ Then he unhooked and uncovered the small lantern on his belt. The oil lamp fizzled out when he used it to light the lantern, but not before setting a steady flame going.

    As the lantern¡¯s light increased, more of the chamber they stood in revealed itself. True to Heketas¡¯ description, it had been carved out of the bedrock and remained unfinished. Deep gouges showed the marks of the tools they had used on the floor and ceiling, although the wall opposite the stream looked more like the result of a cave-in.

    Ilarion, Galnai and Divya stood in a crouching huddle by Critobulus¡¯ door, their forms far enough from the light that they were indistinct and fuzzy. They straightened when Janu approached and told them all was clear, and he lit the other two lanterns held by Ilarion and Divya. Together, they made everything a little clearer. Ilarion immediately drifted away, examining the floor.

    ¡®What now?¡¯ Galnai asked.

    Janu looked to Heketas. ¡®Did Critobulus always keep the windows open when he was here?¡¯

    Heketas shrugged. ¡®No way to know. We only crept out when the shutters were closed. We didn¡¯t stick around long enough to see if he was in when they weren¡¯t. But with how Critobulus is, I¡¯d guess he would want to keep an eye on whatever it is he does down here. Especially if us guards weren¡¯t allowed to watch it ¨C that would mean only him.¡¯

    More guesses. Janu didn¡¯t want to risk everything on those, but if Critobulus kept the horn in his chambers, they had to go in there. He made his way over to the door ¨C far sturdier than the barracks¡¯ door ¨C and reached for the handle.

    ¡®Don¡¯t.¡¯ Divya¡¯s voice whipped across the chamber.

    He froze. The handle was so close he could almost feel it. ¡®Why not?¡¯ he asked, lifting the lantern to check for anything that might indicate a trap.

    Divya walked up beside him, her footsteps squelching on the stone. ¡®Some magic has been set on this door. Look.¡¯

    She pointed to the doorframe. What Janu had at first taken for scratches and weathering turned out to be small letters carved into the stone. Identical letters mirrored each on the outer edge of the door itself. Nowhere he had ever broken into used magic like this.

    ¡®What would it have done,¡¯ Janu asked, ¡®if I¡¯d opened it?¡¯

    With a shrug, Divya said, ¡®Why should I know? This is all academic magic, for people who spend too much time in dark pits like this with their noses in books and ink on their fingers. The boy should get outside and learn some real magic.¡¯

    Janu sighed. ¡®I¡¯ll be sure to pass on your feedback if we see Critobulus. Can you work out what it does if you have enough time? Break it, somehow?¡¯

    She clicked her tongue. ¡®Go find something else to look at and let me work. I¡¯ll let you know.¡¯

    If she couldn¡¯t work it out, they could always try the loud and reckless route of breaking through the shutters. When he raised the lantern to them, he couldn¡¯t see any carved letters like on the door.

    Behind him, Ilarion said, ¡®There was a dragon in here.¡¯

    ¡®What?¡¯

    The man stood in a pool of lantern light, staring at the one rough wall, the muscles of his face slack and forlorn.

    ¡®A long time ago, they kept a dragon in here. Look.¡¯ Ilarion pointed to the floor, then traced long lines between it and the wall. Gouges ran along the path he traced. ¡®They dragged a dragon out of this room and into another one, then collapsed the entrance behind it.¡¯ Then he pointed out similar marks on the ceiling and the walls of the barracks. ¡®It was a big dragon. Very big, and likely very old to have reached that size. It looks like they ran out of room for it.¡¯

    Janu stepped away from Divya to take a closer look at the marks. ¡®Why would you keep a dragon somewhere like this?¡¯

    Ilarion scowled. ¡®If you¡¯re scared of it, and you don¡¯t want it to escape. Ushuene says that the first dragon bound was an adult, and it was a struggle to bind him. If the bond was weak as a result, Critobulus likely chose to keep it imprisoned for his own safety. In fact, this can¡¯t be any other dragon. With the size it is, it hatched well before anyone attempted a binding.¡¯

    ¡®Do you think Critobulus bound it to himself?¡¯

    Ilarion nodded. ¡®He doesn¡¯t seem the type to give someone else power before himself, does he?¡¯

    Joining them, Heketas said, ¡®It would explain where he goes off to when he disappears down here. He must have a way to get to it still.¡¯

    If only they had a convenient blood trail to follow ¨C a big dragon must take a lot of feeding. Nothing leapt at at Janu when he examined the floor, though. They all spread out over the room, trying to find a way through the filled-in section of wall. Janu didn¡¯t fancy trying to dig through it, not without knowing how deep it went, and not while any sound of digging would alert the floors above.

    When no more clues presented themselves, Janu decided to risk a look inside the barracks. Heketas might have been clueless in his day, but one of the recent guards might have known something, might have left some hint behind.

    The dust on the doorknob made a greasy film on his fingertips when he pulled it, and the air that greeted him hung thick with its dry scent. As Heketas had said, it was abandoned. The flickering light of Janu¡¯s lantern picked out the bare frames of old bunks, empty chairs and empty tables. A blackened fireplace stood in one corner, but it too boasted a thick coat of dust.

    Janu picked his way around the room with care. A staircase led out of sight by the far wall, and he didn¡¯t want to risk anyone upstairs hearing his movements. He shaded the lantern in that direction just in case. Nothing else stood out to him. No one had left any convenient ledgers or slates out in the open, and he couldn¡¯t see any trunks ready to be rummaged through. A fair amount of graffiti cluttered blank spots on the walls, but they were just the standard fare ¨C names, gossip, crude jokes and drawings.

    Someone spoke back in the main room, so he stepped out of the barracks and shut the door behind him. Galnai crouched in one corner, the others converging around her.

    ¡®What have you found?¡¯ he asked.

    She furrowed her brow. ¡®Maybe nothing. There are some marks here that don¡¯t make much sense unless a door opened here.¡¯ She traced the marks with her fingers. They seemed to go into the rock ¨C or around a hidden corner.

    In his head, Janu measured where the door might stand if Galnai¡¯s marks picked out one side of the frame. ¡®Can we try to pry it open?¡¯ No obvious gaps presented themselves. When he rapped his knuckles against it, it sounded just like any other patch of stone would sound ¨C not hollow at all.

    Without waiting, he pulled a chisel from his tool pouch and knelt next to the mark Galnai had pointed out to test for a gap. Instead of striking solid stone like he expected, it sank in up to the handle. Either side of it still looked like an unbroken stretch of wall. Still, it didn¡¯t budge when he tried levering it open, so he drew it up the gap, wiggling it from side to side to test for any hinges or catches.

    Halfway up, resistance fell away, and the chisel slipped into a bigger gap to the left. Janu reached his fingers in and felt around. It was just a hollow section of door with nothing in it ¨C perhaps a handle. He gave it an experimental tug and the whole door swing outwards, its edge suddenly obvious. Lighter than he had expected, it swung fast enough that he lost his grip and it slammed into Galnai¡¯s knee. She jumped up in surprise, but a satisfied smile pulled at her face.

    Ahead of them stretched a long corridor, its end lost beyond the range of their candlelight. Somewhere down there was a dragon. If they were unlucky, they would find Critobulus too.

    Only one way to find out, Janu thought, and stepped through.

 23. A Kindly Old Woman

    Popilia wouldn¡¯t have expected a villager on the outskirts of Chorus to be so shocked at the sight of a young dragon ¨C few wild dragons ventured out here, that was for sure, but the dragon guard patrolled the skies regularly. Maybe that was exactly why this tall farmer was scared, though. Not of the dragon, but of the empire he saw behind it.

    In any case, his fixed stare on Nazagin was making it difficult for Anshar to get through to him.

    ¡®I won¡¯t need it long,¡¯ she said, trying to position her new form between the man and the dragon. ¡®Just a few days, perhaps, then I¡¯ll return it. Or I can just pay you enough for a new one, if you want.¡¯

    After a few seconds, the promise of a large sum of money made its way to the farmer¡¯s brain and he turned, eyes widening. ¡®You sure, missus?¡¯ he said. ¡®Only, that¡¯s an awful lot.¡¯

    ¡®It¡¯s all right, dear.¡¯ Anshar gave him a crinkly smile and patted his arm. Laying it on a bit thick, Popilia thought. ¡®We need the wagon and horse more than we need the money.¡¯

    ¡®Oh. Well then.¡¯ He blinked at them like he thought every blink might wake him up from a dream, and his gaze kept sliding to Nazagin and back. ¡®They¡¯re both yours, then.¡¯

    Anshar handed over a bulging purse of coin that turned the farmer¡¯s eyes into saucers, then turned to Popilia. ¡®Climb in the back with your dragon now, girl, and I¡¯ll mind the horse.¡¯

    The horse in question hadn¡¯t stopped snorting and pawing the ground since it had caught sight of Nazagin. No doubt it would have run away if it hadn¡¯t been hitched to the shafts of the covered wagon Anshar had spotted before their landing.

    Popilia traipsed around the back of the wagon with Nazagin in tow. The farmer had been emptying when they arrived, and nothing remained beneath the stained cloth canopy beside a couple of benches built into the sides. She clambered in and took a seat as close to the front as she could get. Outside, through the open front of the canopy, Anshar stood soothing the horse. When she caught sight of Popilia, she gave her a nod.

    ¡®Come on.¡¯ Popilia gestured to Nazagin.

    Nazagin nudged a sense of reluctance her way, but placed a tentative foot on the end of the wagon. It tilted and creaked as she put her full weight on it.

    ¡®It won¡¯t break.¡¯ She could tell Nazagin saw right through her false confidence, but added, ¡®You¡¯ll be fine.¡¯

    With her neck and head hunched to avoid the roof, Nazagin jumped into the back of the wagon with a great thud, then dug her claws in at the front to keep herself from sliding backwards. The wagon stayed in one piece, though it felt a fraction lower than before.

    Nazagin shuffled around in a circle until she could coil into a comfortable position, then lay with her head resting on the front step. Of all the things Popilia expected to sense in Nazagin¡¯s mind in that moment, she hadn¡¯t expected to find such a strong distaste for the horse. What had horses ever done to her?

    On the tail of that thought, Nazagin sent a vague sense memory to Popilia: ropes around her mouth and limbs, being thrown up and down on the backside of a horse for hours on end, the rain pummelling down around her.

    Ah, yes. There was that.

    A moment later, Anshar appeared on the driver¡¯s step and took up the reins. She raised an eyebrow at Nazagin¡¯s nose on the step beside her and pushed it back with one hand.

    ¡®We¡¯ve already scared one farmer today,¡¯ she said. ¡®Keep yourself in there and close the covers, and we won¡¯t scare any more. We don¡¯t want to go drawing a crowd before we get to where we need, now, do we?¡¯

    With a grumble, Nazagin slid her head back inside and rested it on top of her wing, leaving Popilia to close the front and back flaps to hide them both. She left the front flap open a crack, just enough to keep track on the landscape outside but not let anyone else see in. Or so she hoped. She pulled back the broad hood she had been wearing and shook her hair out. The farmer had been too busy staring at Nazagin to notice the princess right in front of him. She made quite a good distraction.

    Anshar chivvied the horse into a walk and, lurching, the wagon trundled forwards. Ominous creaking from the axle beneath them suggested it wasn¡¯t happy with Nazagin¡¯s weight. Outside, vast wheat fields took up most of the view beneath the cloudy sky, broken only by rough farm buildings when they turned towards the city.

    Popilia had passed this way not too long ago, on her way to Nazagin¡¯s hatching and the bonding ceremony. It felt like an age. The winter wheat stood a good deal taller now, readying itself for harvest. On the horizon, Chorus sat as an indistinct bar of white. She could just make out a blocky skyline if she squinted.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡®How long until we get there?¡¯ she asked.

    Anshar replied without turning. ¡®Midnight, by my guess. So it¡¯s best if we sleep outside the city tonight and time our arrival for daytime. Everything appears more suspicious at night.¡¯

    Sighing, Popilia settled back against the edge of the wagon and fidgeted with the hem of her sleeves. Back in Kimah-Kur, the dragons were fighting for their lives. And here she was, just rattling across the countryside, doing nothing. All she really was was bait, but if being bait was what it took to help, then she wouldn¡¯t have it any other way. She closed her eyes and tried to think of what she could look forwards to ¨C fresh clothes, food made specifically for humans, the relieved look on her parents¡¯ faces. Her imagination could barely grasp onto them, though. The thoughts slipped away like sand between her fingers, and her gut swirled with unease.

    <hr>

    Boredom and scattered conversation with Nazagin and Anshar occupied the rest of that day. By nightfall, they had come to the edge of a small patch of woodland a half hour¡¯s ride from Chorus¡¯ outskirts. There they ate and fell asleep with their gazes fixed on the lights flickering in each window, one by one being snuffed to darkness.

    While they woke with the sunrise, they waited an infuriating hour or two so the timing of their arrival wouldn¡¯t be too convenient. Then, humming under her breath, Anshar drove the wagon on and they bounced out onto the wide imperial road, into the city¡¯s outskirts.

    Chatter and bustle surrounded them within a few minutes. Popilia ached to leap outside for a clear view, but she restricted herself to the small gap in the front flap. After so long with only dragons for company, she hadn¡¯t realised how much she missed humans ¨C not for anything inherently superior in their company, just not to feel so out of place, or watched.

    If she stepped out here, she certainly would be watched. Every now and then they passed a likeness of her, block printed onto fabric and pasted onto walls. While it wasn¡¯t a great match for Popilia, it was too close for comfort. She wouldn¡¯t even trust the deep hood of her borrowed cloak to ward against that.

    Not once did she hear the dragon guard or see their shadows. She wished she knew exactly how many had been sent out, and by whom. Critobulus? Her parents? Logic told her one could not act without the permission of the other, although she was beginning to doubt which was which.

    Half an hour saw them queueing for entry to the central city, and Popilia¡¯s anxiety gnawed at her more and more with each yard they rolled towards the gate. The walls loomed closer and closer until they took up almost all of the view through the gap. When she spotted the first guard, she nudged the cloth shut again and waited in blindness. Only the periodic clatter of hooves and wheels on stone, and the weary rocking of the wagon, gave her any indication of their progress.

    ¡®Next!¡¯ a man¡¯s voice called from up ahead. Again the wagon moved, and this time she could make out the guards¡¯ footsteps.

    The same voice came again. ¡®State your business in Chorus today.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m going to the palace,¡¯ Anshar said.

    ¡®You don¡¯t look like much of a tourist. What are you transporting in there?¡¯

    ¡®I found some Imperial property that was stolen, so I thought I would return it. Take a look if you like, just don¡¯t make a fuss.¡¯

    The guard said something to another one, but Popilia didn¡¯t catch their words. The next thing she knew, the wagon lurched as someone climbed onto the driver¡¯s step. They flung the cloth aside, letting bright light stream inside.

    Popilia squinted, trying to resolve the details of the silhouette in front of her.

    ¡®Princess Phoca?¡¯ The guard¡¯s eyes widened. He held out his hand to her. ¡®Come with me. We¡¯ll see you back to the palace.¡¯

    Thoughts raced in Popilia¡¯s head. She needed to stay with Anshar, and Anshar needed to come with her to the palace. With no time to compare options, she just recoiled and gave the guard her best glower.

    ¡®Touch me and I set the dragon on you,¡¯ she said.

    The guard snatched his hand away as if burned.

    Still hidden by the canopy, Anshar laughed. ¡®You wouldn¡¯t be the first she¡¯s set it on. I couldn¡¯t get much out of the girl when I asked what happened, but I suspect her late kidnappers may have had help from inside the palace, if you catch my drift. I don¡¯t think she trusts you lot an awful lot. I can take her to the palace myself, don¡¯t you worry. But I can understand you not trusting me. I won¡¯t argue at an escort, if you can spare one.¡¯

    Straightening a fraction, the guard tried to regain a semblance of professionalism. ¡®Of course we can spare personnel for the princess¡¯ safe return. Stay put. I¡¯ll call them now.¡¯ And he disappeared, letting the flap fall back down behind him.

    Not wanting to stay cooped up inside ¨C and not needing to know that her presence was known ¨C Popillia ducked through the flap and joined Anshar on the driver¡¯s step. Nazagin¡¯s head followed a moment later, nudging past their elbows to rest between them.

    Within a minute, rapid hoofbeats heralded the arrival of more soldiers. They passed through the gate in two lines and encircled the wagon in a heartbeat. Popilia tensed, but then they turned to face their direction of travel and the soldier at the front, his white horse patterned with red dye, gave them a friendly nod.

    With a click of her tongue, Anshar set the horse moving again. It walked on, head raised, ears perked up now it had the company of other horses to bolster its spirits.

    A shadow fell upon Popilia¡¯s own spirits as they passed beneath the gate, and try as she might, she couldn¡¯t lift it. If everything went back to how it had been before, when she returned home, then it wouldn¡¯t be longer before she was carted off again. Then there would be no familiar face on the driver¡¯s step and her journey would take her across a whole ocean into unknown lands. If they were the same unknown as Kimah-Hur, then she would be overjoyed. But they wouldn¡¯t be. They would be the unknown of foreign tongues and attitudes, of cities ruled by strange men, of a life laid out for her with some man she didn¡¯t know, but had heard enough of from Galnai to worry over.

    She eyed the soldiers around her, like the bars of a newfound cage. Let Anshar succeed. Let the dragons be free. Then maybe enough will change that I will be, too.

 24. A Well-Protected Library

    The moment Janu stepped into the corridor, his nerves quietened. Having walls so close to either side and not a window in sight left him far less exposed than the wide cavern he had just left. Even so, there was room enough for two to walk abreast, and Ilarion took up the lead alongside him. They both held their lanterns aloft, watching the darkness swallow the reach of their light until it slipped away to reveal a wall where the corridor turned.

    Janu couldn¡¯t match Ilarion¡¯s pace. The man had a glint in his eye ¨C the boyish excitement of an adventurer, not the caution of a thief. Even if his steps hadn¡¯t been so eager, his legs were longer anyway. So he rounded the corner first.

    Again, their lantern light met blackness. Janu¡¯s inner map had them moving parallel to the side wall of the barracks now. How far would this labyrinth take them? If this doesn¡¯t lead to the horn, I won¡¯t be impressed.

    Ilarion slowed a fraction, examining something on the walls as he walked. Before Janu could look at whatever had caught his attention, Galnai shouted something and a section of floor shifted beneath Ilarion¡¯s foot. Something clicked. In the same moment, Galnai shot her arm out and yanked Ilarion back by his sword belt. A dozen bolts zipped out of holes in either wall and clattered against the other side loud enough to echo. Splinters showered Janu¡¯s arms as he flinched away and protected his face.

    Ilarion staggered back against Galnai, his mouth wide in a comical ¡®o¡¯. Blood bloomed across the front of his shirt where it clung to his skin.

    ¡®Are you hurt?¡¯ Janu asked. His blood rushed in his ears, all his senses on alert.

    Touching a hand to his shirt and examining the result, Ilarion swore. ¡®I should have brought my armour.¡¯

    Galnai turned him half around by one shoulder. ¡®Eh. It¡¯s a scratch. You¡¯re fine.¡¯ When he gave her a wounded look, she added, ¡®You can go back and have Divya patch it up if you¡¯re so worried.¡¯

    ¡®No,¡¯ he said. ¡®We carry on.¡¯

    ¡®Hold on there.¡¯ Janu stuck his arm out in front of him, worried he would just walk back into the same trap. ¡®We don¡¯t know if it¡¯s just going to do the same thing again.¡¯

    Ilarion frowned. ¡®It just shot its bolts. Unless there are people back there, I can¡¯t see how the mechanism would reload.¡¯

    Janu reached forwards with one foot and pressed down on the plate Ilarion had triggered. A dozen more bolts shot out and shattered against the walls. The perplexed look on Ilarion¡¯s face might have been worth it if putting it there hadn¡¯t made so much noise.

    ¡®I see you haven¡¯t heard of repeating crossbows,¡¯ Janu said. ¡®Even if that¡¯s not what this is, we have no idea what kind of magic Critobulus can work. He might be conjuring up infinite bolts for all we know.¡¯ Janu was fairly sure no sorcerer could conjure something so substantial out of thin air, but ¡®fairly sure¡¯ wasn¡¯t something he often liked to hang his hopes on.

    He knelt down, examining the pressure plate. If they had something heavy enough, putting it on top would likely trigger the mechanism once, then leave it dormant until they removed the weight. But he had had to use a fair amount of force to trigger it just poking with his toes. None of their tools or weapons would do the trick. They could pile up furniture from the abandoned barracks, but that would make a lot of noise and create an obstacle course for them to climb over.

    ¡®Could we lever up the blocks?¡¯ Ilarion asked. ¡®The gap looks big enough to shove something through.¡¯

    Janu raised an eyebrow. ¡®What were you planning to shove in there? Your sword?¡¯

    The mere suggestion made Ilarion¡¯s hand dart to the hilt of his sword and turn aside as if to protect it. ¡®I was more thinking a long piece of wood. You looked in the barracks. Assuming there are beds in there, were they the kind with slats?¡¯

    All of the beds in the barracks had been bunks. Janu hadn¡¯t paid close attention to them, but more than likely they did have slats.

    He stood and nodded. ¡¯Good call. Let¡¯s go and check.¡¯

    They traipsed back up the corridor into the cavern, prompting a sarcastic ¡®that was quick¡¯ from Divya, still at work on Critobulus¡¯ door. Janu hesitated before reopening the barracks, wary of the racket they had made with the trap and the unknown potential of that staircase leading up. At last, though, he worked up the courage to go in. Nothing had changed. All was silent. Not a speck of dust had been disturbed.

    Picking out the first bed he saw, Janu lifted one of the slats away then, after a moment¡¯s hesitation, bundled a few more under his arms for good measure. They may need more than one to lift the plate, if lifting it even worked. And one slat alone might break. Best to avoid return trips where possible.

    When he returned to the main chamber, Ilarion peered at the ends of the slats.

    ¡®They might need shaving down to size,¡¯ he said. ¡®Do you have a knife somewhere in those pouches of yours?¡¯This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Janu inclined his head to the labyrinth entrance. ¡®Let¡¯s try them first. If not, Galnai usually has a knife.¡¯

    Galnai nodded. Little about this situation was their usual, but it was nice when the little things stayed the same.

    To Janu¡¯s dismay, upon their return to the trapped corridor, they soon discovered the slats didn¡¯t fit. So Galnai spent a precious few minutes crouched on the floor, carving the end of one slat into a thin wedge. All the while, Janu leaned against the wall of the corridor, anxiety forcing his gaze up and down its length every few seconds in anticipation of unwelcome visitors.

    ¡®That should do it,¡¯ she said at last, holding the slat up for someone to take.

    Ilarion took it and touched the thin end to the gap between the plate and the rest of the floor. ¡®Get ready with the others.¡¯

    Janu grabbed another slat as Galnai climbed to her feet. With only room for two abreast, she took up position behind the two men, though she took hold of a slat anyway, perhaps hoping to slip it between their legs if they needed help.

    Ilarion¡¯s slat slid in with little effort, and he pressed down to begin lifting up the stone. A moment later, the trap¡¯s crossbows twanged again. One bolt smashed against the wall, its splintered end flying back to slice across Ilarion¡¯s temple, but he kept hold of the slat. By now the gap had widened enough for Janu to wedge his own slat underneath. Together, they made smoother work of it. The stone slab tilted back and fell into the shallow pit that housed the pressure mechanism with a hollow thud.

    Careful not to knock the mechanism that stuck out from the ground like a wide pillar, Ilarion picked up the slab and set it to one side of the corridor.

    Janu swore. Beyond the slab they had just removed and beneath the next section of floor lay another pillar-like mechanism. When he crouched and peered from the side with his lantern held close, he could make out even more of them, stretching out to the end of the corridor.

    ¡®No one go rushing ahead,¡¯ he said. This would take a while.

    <hr>

    Some time later ¨C Janu wanted to say an hour, but all the heaving and grunting and nervous alertness had stretched his perception of time ¨C they stood at the far end of the line of traps, stone slabs leaning neatly against the wall in their wake. The gruelling work had littered the ground with broken bits of crossbow bolt and left them in a corner.

    More corridor stretched out before them.

    Armed with the last unbroken slats, Galnai and Ilarion took the lead. They shuffled as if blind, testing every inch ahead of them with as much force as they could bring to bear. Every mark on the wall or ceiling became a point of suspicion. Every crack in the floor became a potential trap.

    Nothing more lived up to that potential, however, and they came at length to a fork in the path. One branch went straight ahead, the other right. Both turned a corner not long after the fork.

    ¡®Doesn¡¯t look like he¡¯s made any marks,¡¯ Galnai said, examining the floor where the paths met. ¡®Nothing to say he goes one way or the other.¡¯

    Janu consulted his mental map. They had turned three times since the trap corridor, and now travelled parallel to the windowed wall of Critobulus¡¯ chambers ¨C which meant parallel to the path of the collapsed tunnel, too. If they carried on straight ahead and followed the corridor¡¯s turn to the left, that would in theory keep them closer to the tunnel. The right path would take them further away. They could always double back if they hit a dead end.

    As he explained his reasoning to the others, he took out a piece of chalk and marked the intersection to show which way they had come. It didn¡¯t live up to the title of labyrinth so far, but who knew how much more convoluted this would get.

    They filed along the next section of corridor, still checking for traps. Two corners and no traps later, they came to a simple wooden door. Janu spent some time prodding and poking it with the end of his chisel before deeming it safe to turn the handle, and even then he half expected a spike to shoot out of the woodwork and impale his hand.

    The door opened onto a completely empty room. Janu held his lantern aloft and stuck his head into the room without stepping through. Another closed door stood in the far right corner. The incongruity of it made the hair of his arms stand on end.

    Ilarion was about to step past him when Janu stuck his arm across his chest.

    ¡®Don¡¯t,¡¯ Janu said. ¡®As much as you¡¯ve proven a very effective trap finder, let¡¯s not push your luck.¡¯

    ¡®What can you see that I can¡¯t?¡¯

    ¡®Nothing. That¡¯s what I don¡¯t like about it.¡¯ Why would Critobulus put an empty room down here? It was smaller than the room he had tunnelled away from, so it couldn¡¯t have been the next stop for his captive dragon, and carving into the rock down here was too much hard work for a whole lot of unused space.

    Janu tapped his toes against the floor as he thought. ¡®Let¡¯s go back and try the other path. We can always come back here if it comes to nothing.¡¯

    With a sigh, Ilarion nodded his agreement and started back down the corridor. When they turned at the other path, they found a longer journey than the one they had just completed. The corridor twisted and turned without a door in sight until after the fifth turn. It took more effort for Janu to keep his mental map on track, now. They must have walked the length of the upper palace already, but they had still ended up walking parallel to the collapsed tunnel.

    Another plain wooden door blocked their way. It had no lock and no dust had gathered to indicate disuse, but then the same had been true of the other door. Whether that was a good or bad thing, he had no idea.

    Once he had satisfied himself with another thorough test of the door, Janu pushed it open. Relief flooded through him. Neat shelves of scrolls lined the walls and a desk stood ready with ink and parchment against the far wall. Well-worn rugs marked the most-used path around the room, drifting between the entrance, the shelves, the desk, and another door in the centre of the far wall. To the left, the room narrowed a fraction and the scroll shelves gave way for a stretch to jars and pouches of ingredients. Lantern light flickered from metal equipment laid out on another desk beside the ingredients shelf.

    ¡®All this to guard a library?¡¯ Galnai edged past them and stepped into the room, looking around with her nose wrinkled in distaste. ¡®If we don¡¯t find the horn in here, we¡¯d better find it in the next room.¡¯

    Ilarion joined her and began to light some of the candles dotted around the room. Firelight gradually suffused it with a gentle glow.

    The further they went, the more Janu suspected Critobulus had the horn hidden in his chambers. It was certainly more likely than having stuffed it inside a scroll here. They would find out if that was the case when they returned to Divya, if she had managed to break through. For now, all they could do was search.

    ¡®Let¡¯s get on with it.¡¯ Janu made a beeline for the ingredients shelf. The sooner they found the horn and got out of here, the better.

 25. Oversized, Overmagicked, Underground

    A quick search was all they needed to confirm the horn wasn¡¯t here. Critobulus kept his library meticulously clean and uncluttered. Out of frustration more than hope, Janu did a second search. He peered in the end of every scroll. He looked behind the jars of ingredients. He even checked for hidden compartments in the two desks.

    At the main desk, Ilarion stood reading the contents of a bound book ¨C the only such item in the library.

    ¡®Am I reading this right?¡¯ he asked Janu as he crouched to examine the underside of the desk.

    Standing with a groan, Janu peered over at the page he had open. In a small, neat hand of sharp angles and pretentious serifs, Critobulus had written down journal entries across several dates. They were old dates, several decades past. For Ilarion¡¯s benefit, Janu traced the words as he read them. ¡®Attempts to force the dragon to eat using the bond have been unsuccessful. Dragons bonded from the shell may be more controllable. Have requested the acquisition of eggs for further experimentation. Ritual suffices for now, but appetite is unknown and overfeeding a frequent mistake. Their majesties witnessed yesterday¡¯s feeding and were satisfied to continue investigation.¡¯

    ¡®What about that bit there?¡¯ Ilarion tapped at an entry on the next page, dated two weeks later.

    ¡®Bald patches beginning to develop on dragon¡¯s wings, suspect due to stress, confinement, or side-effect of ingredients in supplemented diet. Attempts to exercise in a secluded area were unsuccessful. As a first subject with imperfect bond, it will likely need to be kept in confinement indefinitely. Hypothesis: if overall growth continues, wings may shrink relative to body size and become redundant. Useful for poorly bonded dragons but otherwise does not make up for loss of flight ability. Will have to observe if the same occurs with a stronger bond.¡¯

    As Janu had read, Ilarion¡¯s face had grown darker and darker. When he reached the end of the entry, the man turned away with a hiss of breath and shook his head.

    ¡®If that first subject is the dragon he had in there¡¯ ¨C Ilarion jerked his head in the direction he must think was the collapsed tunnel, a way off by Janu¡¯s reckoning ¨C ¡®I¡¯ll hate to see what¡¯s become of him. Maybe that¡¯s why they¡¯ve stopped guarding the place. Not for Critobulus¡¯ paranoia, but because there¡¯s nothing left to guard. His experiments probably killed him.¡¯

    ¡®Him?¡¯ Galnai asked, a curious furrow in her brow.

    Ilarion grimaced. ¡®He was one of Anshar¡¯s students, long ago. Izimendalla. He lived free for almost three hundred years before they captured him.¡¯ Eyes sparkling with the echo of a kindred wanderlust, he added, ¡®Anshar said he was planning to travel the world. He never got the chance.¡¯

    In the silence that followed, Galnai examined Ilarion with open curiosity. He didn¡¯t seem to notice, too distracted by the thought of Critobulus¡¯ experiments, his gaze lost in the distance.

    At length, she asked, ¡®Why do you care so much for these dragons?¡¯

    Ilarion barked out a laugh that had Janu flinching at the volume. He gave Galnai an incredulous stare.

    ¡®Why? You¡¯ve seen them!¡¯ Ilarion made an expansive gesture, as if the entire population of Kimah-Kur stood in the room with them. ¡®A whole society we hardly know about, older than us, wiser than us, minding their own business until we came along and decided to ignore all that, to treat them just like any other animal.¡¯

    He rocked on his feet, closing his eyes for a moment. When they reopened, his tone had calmed somewhat, but sorrow tinged it. ¡®Even my prince wants to bind them. True, he doesn¡¯t know of their sentience like the empire does, but that is why he sent me here. To learn the empire¡¯s secret. To find out how to bind them ourselves. To give ourselves a fighting chance if they ever decided to expand North.¡¯

    Galnai cocked an eyebrow. ¡®We¡¯re not exactly swimming in dragons back home.¡¯

    ¡®Oh, we have dragons. Far out in the steppe. Bigger than most of the dragons here, from what I¡¯ve heard, but I haven¡¯t heard much. No one has, outside fairy tales. I¡¯m not the only person the prince has sent out to learn more, either ¨C there are expeditions underway as we speak.¡¯ He fiddled with the end of one moustache. ¡®I find myself hoping they have been unsuccessful, wanting to write him to send an ambassador, not explorers. But I daren¡¯t explain the whole story except in person.¡¯

    Closing the notebook, Janu held it out to Ilarion and said, ¡®Well if you want to make it there in person, we should get a move on. The horn isn¡¯t in here. We need to look elsewhere.¡¯

    Ilarion took hold of the book as if it had been smeared in dung, but tucked it into the empty weapons bag. ¡®Maybe we can free Critobulus¡¯ dragon while we¡¯re here.¡¯

    Janu crossed to the door they hadn¡¯t opened yet and began his usual examination. ¡®If it doesn¡¯t get us discovered, sure. Might make a useful distraction. But unless it¡¯s good at tunnelling, it¡¯ll be too big to fit through any of these passages. No dragon would fit.¡¯

    A grunt was the only acknowledgement he got.

    Fully expecting to find a half-starved dragon on the other side of the door, Janu opened it to another room, a little smaller than this one. He let out a relieved breath. It was noticeably warmer than the last room, but Janu couldn¡¯t see a reason for that. No suspicious emptiness this time, just a basic bed, all ready to use, and other necessities for overnight trips. Critobulus either enjoyed convenience or got fed up navigating his own traps too often. Or he liked to vary where he took his concubines. Who knew?

    He took a few steps further into the room. On the same wall as the door he had walked through, a hatch had been set into the wall. Janu had seen similar in rich houses once or twice, but tugged it open and peeked inside just to confirm. As he had expected, it was a lift mechanism for transporting food from another floor to this one and sending the empty dishes back.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    After shutting the hatch, he told the others, ¡®Keep it quiet in here. There¡¯s a shaft to somewhere else in the palace. Our voices might carry.¡¯

    The others filed in. Heketas cocked his head at the closed lift mechanism.

    ¡®Always wondered how Critobulus stayed so long down here without getting anyone to fetch him stuff from the kitchens. Wonder if the cooks know where it goes to.¡¯

    After a cursory look around, Galnai said, ¡®Unless Critobulus keeps the horn under his pillow, I don¡¯t think there¡¯s much sense us staying here.¡¯

    Janu shook his head and pointed to the next door. ¡®Have a quick look anyway. I¡¯ll get started on this.¡¯

    The door stood on the wall to the left of their entrance, which to Janu¡¯s internal map had it pointing right back at the collapsed tunnel and right where they needed to go. As with the other doors in this nest of twisting tunnels and chambers, it wasn¡¯t trapped. Or he thought so, anyway. The constant all-clears after that first corridor were beginning to gnaw away at his confidence. He twisted open the knob with a small hammer of trepidation beating at his heart.

    Another long corridor. Great.

    Behind him, furniture creaked and bedding flumped as Galnai and Ilarion searched every corner of the room. When Janu turned, Ilarion had even lifted up the bottom plate of the lift mechanism to check for anything that might be hidden beneath. Predictably, both came up empty handed.

    ¡®We¡¯ll need to get our slats out again,¡¯ Janu said, stepping aside just enough for them to see the yawning void of the corridor.

    Their shoulders sagged, but they picked up the slats from where they had left them propped against the wall and headed out, lanterns aloft in one hand, slats in the other. Then they tested their way along the corridor, inch by frustrating inch. The further they walked, the hotter it grew, and soon Janu¡¯s back, almost dry from their swim through the lake, was rebathed in sweat. Every step tightened a sense of unease in the pit of his stomach. Every sharp tap of the slats had him expecting a slew of bolts to hiss from the walls and made his back itch when they didn¡¯t.

    After far too much time for his liking, and still no sign of further traps, they reached the end of the corridor. Here it turned completely back on itself and split into two corridors running side by side.

    Janu let out a frustrated growl. ¡®Now he makes it into a proper maze?¡¯ He checked the glass disc against the wall and squinted. Nothing had changed by the entrance. The sky might have been a shade lighter, but it was difficult to tell with the flickering lantern light. How long had they been at this now? How long until Critobulus decided to come down here again, if he wasn¡¯t already waiting somewhere ahead?

    Too many questions. He wouldn¡¯t find the answers to any of them by standing still.

    They continued in the manner they had grown wearily accustomed to, turning corner after corner, marking each intersection they came across, retracing their steps after each dead end.

    ¡®I¡¯m starting to think this just leads to the palace¡¯s hypocaust,¡¯ said Galnai after a while, wiping sweat from her eyes. ¡®Though I can¡¯t see Critobulus building a whole labyrinth for underfloor heating.¡¯

    Janu shrugged and kept tapping his way ahead. ¡®Maybe that¡¯s on the level above us. We¡¯d still feel it down here.¡¯

    They turned another corner. Like the last one, this stretched into darkness ahead.

    ¡®Can you hear water?¡¯ Ilarion asked.

    Janu stopped tapping for a moment and strained his ears, but he could only hear his own heartbeat.

    Galnai nodded, though. ¡®It¡¯s faint, but I hear it.¡¯ She turned to Heketas. ¡®Is there another stream running through here?

    Heketas shook his head. ¡®Not that I know of. I¡¯ve heard the water for the fountains gets pumped from somewhere down here, though. Could be that?¡¯

    With a frown, Ilarion started forwards again, the tip of his slat tip-tapping the stone. ¡®I¡¯d think we¡¯d hear the pumps before we heard the water.¡¯

    Perhaps ten yards further down the corridor, Janu caught the first burbling notes of a stream as well. Ten yards beyond that, the corridor ended in blackness, hinting at some large, unlit chamber just beyond. Though Janu itched to snuff out his lantern, their task would be impossible without it. They couldn¡¯t find their way blind, let alone spot any more traps, and for all they knew, Critobulus had worked some ritual to let him see in the dark.

    If only such a ritual existed. If it did, Divya would know of it, but he wasn¡¯t about to traipse all the way back through the labyrinth to fetch her.

    As they approached the opening, the paved stone floor gave way to bare rock again. The four of them leaned their slats against one wall and sidled up to the end of the corridor, watching their little puddle of lantern light slide further and further without touching another wall. Heat pressed against them. It had turned the air into a thick sludge, forcing humidity down their throats with each heavy breath.

    ¡®What now?¡¯ Heketas¡¯ voice was the quietest Janu had ever heard it, and he barely did.

    Janu glanced about for any hint, but the cavern walls to either side were the same bare rock as the floor. He gestured with his lantern along the right wall. ¡®Galnai, you hug the wall to the right, see what you can find. I¡¯ll go left. Ilarion, Heketas, you head out into the middle. There must be something in here.¡¯

    Without another word, they split up, lone specks of light parting in the dark. Galnai¡¯s light flickered more violently than that of Janu and Ilarion¡¯s lanterns. She had taken a candle from one of the previous chambers, and its light illuminated the skin of her cupped hand or her chin or the nearby wall in fits and starts.

    Concentrating on his own path, Janu scanned the wall and floor for anything out of the ordinary. The best he found was when the hewn rock gave way to close-packed rubble, the peaks and craters of its surface casting harsh black shadows. This must be the other end of the collapsed tunnel, then.

    He slowed his steps and examined the ground as he walked. Step by step, the sound of burbling water grew louder. Just when he thought he could see the surface of a pool shimmering in the distance, he came across the first scratch marks. Dragon claws, Ilarion had said. They stretched away from the collapsed tunnel, out into the darkness.

    Following the marks led his gaze to Ilarion and Heketas, their forms periodically breaking the light from the lantern they shared. It barely picked out the floor beneath their feet. Then something else in the room did.

    Janu blinked. For a moment a warm light suffused the room, revealing Ilarion and Heketas in their entirety, casting long shadows on the floor behind them. Then darkness returned, even stronger than before. He squinted at the shadows beyond the lanternlight so hard that motes danced in his vision.

    A long, bass rumble ground through the cavern. It reverberated through the floor, sending the small bits of debris by Janu¡¯s feet skittering. Ripples caught the light on the distant pool, all emanating away from the centre of the cavern. Janu froze. His brain went blank. Panic sank its icy claws into his arms and chest and held them there.

    In the centre of the cavern, a fire-bright glow spilled into being, framed by the sharp teeth of a giant dragon¡¯s maw. The dragon reared up, the brightness of its flames casting half the cavern into semi-daylight. Its great horned head was the height of a small house, its skin a leathery, mottled brown. Fire spilled from its mouth in searching tongues, reflecting from the links of a great chain half embedded in the skin of its neck.

    Ilarion took two steps forwards and called up to it in the dragons¡¯ own tongue. The dragon may as well have not heard. Its mouth opened wider. The light of its eyes wheeled madly.

    ¡®Ilarion!¡¯ Galnai¡¯s voice snapped Janu out of his stupor. ¡®Don¡¯t just stand there, you blithering idiot. Move!¡¯

 26. Foreign Agents

    It was Heketas who shoved Ilarion to the side. They both sprawled onto the floor as a plume of bright fire roared out onto the ground where they had just been standing. Janu was already running, watching the others only to keep an eye on the dragon itself. But the fire hit the edge of the collapsed tunnel, cutting off his route to safety.

    In the blinding light that washed through the chamber, Janu caught a glint of white ¨C a long, curved horn tied to the chain around the dragon¡¯s neck.

    Shit. He couldn¡¯t think about that now. Escape first. If he dawdled, he would be the only one left trapped in here with the dragon, and that wouldn¡¯t end well. In desperation, he took the clay-covered siren fruit from his belt pouch and slammed it into the wall so the clay shell dented, but didn¡¯t break. Then he spun on one heel and threw it as hard as he could towards the pool.

    He didn¡¯t wait to see if it landed. The dragon was drawing breath again. The last of its fire breath spent itself against rock and stone. Janu pushed his legs as fast as they would go. In the sudden darkness, with the others¡¯ lanterns swallowed by the exit tunnel, he couldn¡¯t make out anything anymore. So he ran with his right arm outstretched, tracing the wall as he ran, hoping every second to find the tunnel.

    Chains rattled to his left. Teeth snapped shut like the springing of some great bear trap, illuminated for a brief moment by a fiery glow behind them. Too close, but not close enough. Janu sent a half-hearted thanks Critobulus¡¯ way for chaining his prisoner so effectively.

    A strange sound carried across the room, like the opening of bellows. Every hair on Janu¡¯s back stood on end. His legs quivered like jelly. Then with a hot whumph, a jet of flame barrelled straight towards him. Crying out, he threw himself forwards and the jet struck the rock just behind him. He scrabbled forwards on hands and knees, the soles of his feet burning, growing hotter each moment as the dragon located him and swung its head around.

    Light! Not fire light, but lantern light, barely perceptible before him. He sprang forwards and hit the edge of the corridor entrance with his head. Several hands grabbed him while he was regaining his senses and dragged him further in just as a sheet of flame swept across the entrance and his left side. Pain exploded in his arm and leg and shot through his body. Some godsawful noise bounced around the confines of the corridor and followed him as he moved until he realised it was his own screaming. He didn¡¯t stop. He couldn¡¯t. Not until he couldn¡¯t breathe, and then the screams just devolved into choppy gasps.

    His lungs burned, whether from the heat or his screams, he didn¡¯t know.

    ¡®You¡¯ll be okay, Janu,¡¯ someone was saying. Their voice swam in his head, making it unrecognisable. ¡®You¡¯re not on fire. It only just touched you.¡¯

    The flesh on his left side felt like it was being seared over a grill. He could still half hear roaring flames.

    They turned a corner, then stopped. Janu blinked rapidly, trying to make some sense of the figures in the dancing lantern light. Someone poured water over his arm and leg, then again, emptying whatever skins they had been carrying. Its coldness brought some sense back to him, enough for the figures to solidify into his three companions. It helped for one blissful moment before the heat came marching back. The skin on the side of his face felt tight.

    Janu tried to speak, but his voice came out dry and hoarse. ¡®Do I... Do I still have my moustache?¡¯

    Galnai let out a dark chuckle. ¡®Your face is fine, just a little pink. Can you walk?¡¯

    He didn¡¯t want to try, but he also didn¡¯t want them to keep dragging him along the floor like a sack of charred rice. So he stuck his unburnt hand up, waited for someone to grab it, and hauled himself to his feet with their strength for support. Static rang in his head. His companions¡¯ figures swam again, wheeling in the confines of the corridor. He swallowed a surge of bile and screwed his eyes shut against a sudden wash of dizziness.

    ¡®Walk him forwards,¡¯ Galnai murmured. ¡®Carry him if you have to. We¡¯ll have Divya check him over. Nothing better for a burn than water magic, I should think.¡¯

    Whoever had hold of his hand shifted their grip to his shoulder and guided him along the corridor. Janu forced himself onwards, one unwilling step after another, limping with every flare of pain in his left leg. After a few dozen steps, when he was sure his knees wouldn¡¯t betray him, he worked up the courage to glance at his left side.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    Patches of his shirt sleeve had been burned away. His skin shone out beneath it, raw and pink, blisters dotting it in a few places. Bad, but not as bad as it felt. He had half expected to see it burned clean through to the bone, black and oozing. A shiver passed through him nonetheless. He couldn¡¯t keep back the creeping sense of nausea burning at his throat.

    Their journey back through the last stage of the labyrinth, unhindered by a lack of direction or need to check for traps, must have been far quicker, but felt like an eternity. Janu dipped in and out of consciousness throughout, now nodding his head to each laboured step, now waking to find his cheek rolling on Heketas¡¯ shoulder. Distant roaring punctuated his breaths and footsteps, but he couldn¡¯t tell if it was the blood in his ears or the furious dragon.

    At one point he remembered the horn on the chain around its neck. They needed that horn. He tried to break away from Heketas to go back for it, but Heketas wouldn¡¯t let go. Some other hand gave him a gentle push from behind. When Janu tried to explain, he couldn¡¯t quite put the words together in any way they made sense.

    ¡®We¡¯ll put him on the bed in here,¡¯ Galnai said, raising her lantern as they came to the door to Critobulus¡¯ rest room. ¡®Beats walking him further. I¡¯ll go ahead and fetch Divya.¡¯

    Heketas and Ilarion followed her command, making a straight line for the bed as soon as they entered and lowering Janu onto it between the two of them. Galnai hovered to watch them, concern etching her features.

    Janu¡¯s left side wasn¡¯t burning anymore. His limbs were dead weights ¨C all of them, saturated with numbness. He shivered again. Some cold had pried its way into his brain and fogged his thoughts.

    Ilarion crouched before him, holding up his lantern so the shadow of his nose leapt across his cheek.

    ¡®His blood¡¯s all drained,¡¯ he said. ¡®Lie him down before he faints.¡¯

    ¡®I¡¯m not going to faint,¡¯ Janu said, but his protests didn¡¯t stop Heketas from pushing him down anyway.

    The fuzziness in his head grew stronger. He blinked to stay awake, focussing on Galnai¡¯s retreating form. The moment she opened the door to the library, she cried out and sprang back.

    With a shout, two palace guards burst through the door, their wide surprised eyes narrowing in a heartbeat. Galnai kicked one of them hard in the groin, but had to jump back again when the other thrust with his sword. Metal whispered against leather and Ilarion stepped forwards with his sword drawn. Heketas didn¡¯t join him.

    Janu tried to roll over. His breath came in small gasps that echoed in his ears. On his second attempt, he rolled onto his side but kept rolling off the edge of the bed. By some small miracle, he got his feet beneath him before he landed and dropped to his hands and knees instead of faceplanting the stone floor. Pain flared through his left hand and shin. His muffled scream joined the shouts and clanging metal around him.

    Using the side of the bed for support, Janu got to his feet. A sword skittered across the floor and bounced off the toe of his boot.

    Ilarion had his hands in the air, one guard¡¯s sword to his throat. Another guard pinned Galnai¡¯s arms to her sides as she swore and struggled to break free. Blood streamed from his nose, but he didn¡¯t loosen his grip.

    Janu groggily shifted his gaze from the dropped sword to the guards and back. Before he could attempt to grab it, two more guards entered the room, swords already drawn. One headed straight for him, skirting around the others.

    ¡®Leave it,¡¯ he said, like he might a dog.

    Janu complied, raised his hands, and¡ª The next moment his view had shifted several degrees. He stared at the ceiling, trying to piece events together. Rope scratched like biting fire where his left wrist was tied to his right. A shove in the small of his back sent him stumbling forwards. His view tilted to the floor and up again and his legs buckled beneath him as a wave of dizziness fuzzed the edges of his mind.

    ¡®¡ªetas?¡¯ said another guard behind him. ¡®Couldn¡¯t find more respectable work after they kicked you out, eh? Should have figured your lot would stoop this low.¡¯

    Scuffling broke out at Janu¡¯s back, stopped a moment later by a solid crack.

    The guard who had restrained Galnai peered around her at his colleagues. ¡®He still alive?¡¯

    ¡®Should be. Always had a thick skull, this one.¡¯

    ¡®Good. They¡¯ll all be wanted for questioning, I imagine. Can¡¯t be killing any before they¡¯ve had chance to explain themselves.¡¯ The guard glanced between Ilarion and Galnai, curling his lip. ¡®He can start by saying how much Khunuchan paid him to sneak their agents in.¡¯

    ¡®Agents?¡¯ Galnai laughed. ¡®I haven¡¯t been to¡ª¡¯

    A sharp shove from the guard cut her off. ¡®Shut it, you. And get moving.¡¯

    They traipsed through to the library, where more guards joined them. Either the dragon¡¯s roars had summoned them or someone had found out about the ongoing heist. Whatever the case, it was over. Janu couldn¡¯t concentrate enough to worry. His thoughts drifted sluggishly from one topic to the next, interspersed by flashes of blinding pain.

    Their journey passed in snatches. Library shelves gave way to bare corridor walls, to piled stoned slabs and broken bolts, to the hewn stone floor of the old tunnel entrance.

    Janu almost asked where Divya was, but stopped himself. She wasn¡¯t by Critobulus¡¯ door, and there weren¡¯t any more guards here. His gaze slipped over to the stream. Unless they had already found her and taken her away, she must be hiding somewhere. Or perhaps she had slipped away like a fish. Janu hoped that was the case.

    The guards took them through the old barracks, and the last Janu remembered of the journey was the sight of the old staircase, disappearing into the dark above, before he disappeared into the dark himself.

 27. Master Meets Student

    Popilia smelled the imperial palace before she saw it. Sifting through the closer scents of horses, spice and street food came the aromatic strains of the flowers cultivated solely in the palace gardens. It mingled with chapel sandalwood, with lake-borne serpent musk, potent even over this distance. She breathed in deep, but after weeks out in the open breathing dragon musk and Anshar¡¯s herbs, it all felt as artificial as the automata in the inner gardens.

    A small crowd had gathered around them on their journey from the city gate, drawn by the sight of Popilia. If they wouldn¡¯t have recognised her before her kidnapping, they certainly did now that her face plastered adverts across the city. Some called out to her. Popilia waved back sometimes, just to show she was okay.

    Others whispered amongst themselves. She caught the odd snippet or two over the hoofbeats of the guards ¨C either talking of her or of the strange rumbling noises coming from beneath the lake. The latter was hardly a new topic of conversation. The infrequent rumbling made a small local legend backed by its share of conspiracy theories and earthquake fears.

    Beside her, Anshar examined the skies. A patrol of dragon guard had been circling them for the past half an hour.

    ¡®How many dragons are held here?¡¯ Anshar asked, her voice pitched so only Popilia could hear.

    ¡®I don¡¯t know.¡¯ Popilia wished she had paid more attention to small details like that. The exact numbers had never been important in her education. That they had more than their enemies was information enough. Her brothers, no doubt, got fuller accounts. The older ones, at least. Anshar must have been thinking of the battle over Kimah-Kur, of how many dragons there had been there and how many might have remained behind. Even Popilia had thought that might be all of them. Apparently, she had been wrong.

    As the lakeside park came into sight over the heads of her guards, Popilia said, ¡®I know they¡¯ve been breeding them for decades.¡¯ The word ¡®breeding¡¯ stuck in her throat as she said it, now she knew the dragons weren¡¯t just like horses, that the guards might as well be forcibly breeding humans. ¡®That¡¯s probably why there are so many.¡¯

    Anshar made a noise in the back of her throat that might have been a humming rumble in dragon form. ¡®That would explain why many of those attacking Kimah-Kur were of similar ages. It is rare for multiple eggs to be stolen close together. Ages don¡¯t tend to overlap.¡¯

    Though the old woman hadn¡¯t mentioned the breeding programme directly, distaste had twisted her features. A stronger sense of distaste radiated from Nazagin. Popilia¡¯s skin crawled in sympathy.

    Then Nazagin pushed a further unwelcome thought into Popilia¡¯s head: It wasn¡¯t so far different, after all, to breed dragon with dragon against their will and to breed princesses with princes.

    At least I have a chance to object. Though Popilia wondered how much she was fooling herself.

    Another set of guards had formed a cordon at the water¡¯s edge, and their convoy slid into their midst before coming to a halt. Three long, orange-canopied boats awaited them. By habit, Popilia scanned the rippling lake for serpents.

    ¡®If you could dismount, your grace,¡¯ said the captain of the guard on his red-dyed horse. ¡®Your parents have been informed of your arrival. I¡¯m sure you¡¯re eager to reunite with them.¡¯

    She tried to imagine her parents¡¯ joy, couldn¡¯t. ¡®My friend gets to come with me, doesn¡¯t she?¡¯

    The captain cast a dubious glance at Anshar, but said, ¡®Of course. And naturally, your dragon also.¡¯

    Popilia suppressed a nervous giggle. Both her companions were dragons. Neither was hers. Maybe some day soon, people would realise that. For now though, she hopped down from the cart seat and followed the captain to one of the boats. Through the bond, she sensed Nazagin slide out from the back of the cart, eliciting panicked gasps from the nearby crowd.

    Anshar walked close by Popilia¡¯s shoulder, but the captain directed her to a different boat. Before Popilia could protest, the old woman had already graciously accepted the offer, smiling at the captain with genuine warmth.

    If Anshar wasn¡¯t worried about it, then Popilia certainly shouldn¡¯t be. And yet, as she stepped onto her own boat, that small separation between them twisted her gut. Her memory weighed in, dredging up all those times she had seen or heard prisoners fed to the lake serpents. How easy it would be, to push the old woman overboard. How fast could she turn back into a dragon?

    Stop worrying, Nazagin told her from a different boat again. Anshar knows what she¡¯s doing.

    Despite Nazagin¡¯s reassurance, Popilia¡¯s unease remained. She felt none at all over Nazagin¡¯s separation ¨C whether because she was more obviously a dragon or because their bond made her more an extension of herself, she had no idea.

    The boatmen pushed off from the lakeshore, their long punts rippling the water as they moved. A serpent slithered alongside them for a few yards, one eye regarding them with interest, before it slipped away. Before them, the wall of arches that marked the edge of the palace inched closer. A few soldiers stood unmoving by the guard posts that flanked the main entrance. Somewhere inside, someone was playing the harp.

    Popilia glanced across to Anshar. Her face had frozen, her gaze locked somewhere in the middle distance, her posture as rigid as the columns of the arches ahead. Popilia tried to ask Nazagin what had happened, but she had no idea. The bond was something they shared. Dragons still had to physically talk to each other to communicate. Anything else was magic, and that was a world neither of them had any insight into.

    Putting it out of her mind for now, Popilia focussed on the main entrance and the short marble platform where their boats would dock. Her tutor and two handmaidens stood in the shade of the great arch. She couldn¡¯t see her parents. Not long ago, she might have hoped to see them waiting further inside, but now she had more reasonable expectations. They didn¡¯t care. Not beyond saving face, shirking off the embarrassment of a successful royal kidnap.

    As soon as her boat knocked against the edge of the platform, Popilia stood and jumped across. The captain hurriedly moved to join her, a flash of surprise crossing his features, and was almost bowled over by Nazagin jumping from the other boat.

    ¡®Careful!¡¯ she said, and grabbed his hand before he could fall into the water.

    The captain reddened and snatched his hand back in fright. ¡®Sorry, your grace.¡¯

    Behind him, Anshar stepped out of her boat, flanked by two guards. They were eyeing her curiously ¨C she still bore that dazed expression, though she seemed more aware of her surroundings, at least. Popilia caught her eye, and Anshar mouthed one word. Though the shapes were indistinct, the meaning somehow came to her: Critobulus.

    Fear iced through Popilia¡¯s veins. She looked back to the arch, but besides guards, it still only held the familiar forms of her tutor and handmaidens. They emerged from the arch now and bowed. To Popilia¡¯s surprise, a softness lurked behind her tutor¡¯s usually stern eyes.

    ¡®It is good to see you returned from your ordeal, your grace,¡¯ she said. She even made another, deeper bow. ¡®I can only offer my sincerest apologies for failing to prevent your kidnap. If you wish it, I will resign in favour of another tutor.¡¯This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Popilia blinked. Did my parents put her up to this to save face somehow? Then, shaking her head, she said, ¡®If none of the guards could stop them, then you certainly couldn¡¯t be expected to. You don¡¯t need to resign.¡¯ Realising she might get away with a touch of cheek, she added, ¡®Has Critobulus offered his resignation? He was the only person present with magic, after all. You¡¯d think he could stop anyone.¡¯

    A glint appeared in her tutor¡¯s eye. ¡®That would be High Sorcerer Critobulus, your grace. And no, he has made no such offer.¡¯

    Ah, so all was back to normal, then. As normal as things could be. For Anshar¡¯s sake, Popilia wanted to ask more of Critobulus¡¯ whereabouts, but she refrained from doing so in case anyone became suspicious. She had never expressed much interest in the sorcerer before, after all. Not beyond a usual childish fascination with magic ¨C but Critobulus had always been too intimidating to pester about that.

    ¡®Are my parents waiting for me?¡¯ she asked, more out of politeness than hope, and gestured at Anshar. ¡®Or at least, someone who can reward the woman who found me and brought me home?¡¯

    Her tutor didn¡¯t even glance at Anshar. She just said, ¡®Of course. They¡¯re waiting for you in the throne room.¡¯

    Popilia blinked and almost said ¡®Really?¡¯, but nodded for her tutor to lead the way instead. Not that Popilia needed directions to the throne room, of course. Anshar needed a nudge, though, still half lost in some other world of hers.

    They passed through the guarded arch without incident, past all the plants and sculptures of the outer gardens, between the four tall columns that flanked the side paths to the library and gallery. If circumstances had been different, perhaps she could have shown Anshar around them, but looking at her face... Something was very wrong. Popilia clasped her hands in front of her to keep her nerves from fidgeting them.

    Ahead lay the inner walls, its two main reception rooms jutting out to either side of the entrance. A figure walked towards them there, backed by the decorated outer wall of the throne room, framed by the arch and the throne room¡¯s two tall minarets. The figure was tall, and walked with confidence ¨C and carried a golden staff.

    Critobulus.

    Fury curdled his features. He raised his staff, not slowing his stride.

    ¡®Step away from the old woman!¡¯ His voice lashed like a whip. ¡®Away!¡¯

    Popilia¡¯s tutor and handmaidens stopped mid stride, uncertain. Even the guards blinked in confusion, but only for a moment.

    ¡®You have brought the enemy into the palace!¡¯ he continued, still holding his staff aloft like a threat.

    Her escort scattered. Before any of the guards could come after her, Popilia threw herself towards Anshar and clung onto her arm, desperate to put herself between the old woman and the sorcerer if she had to. Nazagin leapt in front of the both of them and bared her teeth.

    Step aside. The words appeared in Popilia¡¯s head, not as if felt through the bond, but spoken between her ears by Anshar¡¯s true voice. The old woman smiled at her, her eyes kind. The less they realise you know about me, the better. The game was up before I stepped foot in the palace. This is the only way it must be, I am afraid.

    With those words, she slipped Popilia¡¯s hand from her arm and stepped forwards to confront Critobulus.

    Popilia stood there, slack jawed, only moving when the guard captain pulled her from the path onto some garden gravel.

    Critobulus began chanting, making her skin crawl with the magic of his words, bringing back memories of the bonding ritual and that stormy night of her kidnapping. Bits of gravel flew up to swirl around his staff.

    Anshar simply stood before him, saying nothing, her face calm and impassive.

    ¡®What have you done to Izimendalla?¡¯ she said.

    With a thrust of his staff, Critobulus flung a stream of gravel at Anshar¡¯s head. She reflected it with a casual wave of her hand and took a step forwards.

    Her voice hardened. ¡®I have touched his mind, sorcerer. Crazed. Senseless. The shadow of my former student. What have you done to him?¡¯

    The high sorcerer¡¯s eyes widened a fraction, but no more, and he bared his teeth against Anshar¡¯s determination. ¡®His power serves me now. And the empire.¡¯ He added the last as more of an afterthought.

    Another lash of his staff sent gravel whipping at the old woman. This time she sidestepped with one hand raised, and the gravel bounced off with a puff of air. Some of it flew out across the crowd. Popilia had to duck to avoid one hitting her between the eyes.

    When she stood again, streams of water had begun to arc over the walls of the palace, streaming in ribbons towards Critobulus¡¯ staff. There they began to twist and swirl and shimmer with ice.

    He tapped the base of his staff against the floor and snapped his fingers at the guards. ¡®Take the princess and her staff away. Then assist me in removing this... interloper.¡¯

    ¡®She¡¯s just an old woman,¡¯ Popilia said as the captain began to usher her along. ¡®What help do you need?¡¯

    Critobulus¡¯ lip curled and he shot her a dark glance, his pride stung, before turning back to his opponent. Popilia¡¯s view was momentarily blocked by her tutor and handmaidens hurrying along behind her.

    One of her handmaidens quietly asked, ¡®Who is she?¡¯

    Popilia didn¡¯t answer. She looked back over her shoulder as she walked, craning to see around her staff, around the guards that rushed to form a cordon. In the brief snatches of uninterrupted view, Anshar held her gaze.

    Get clear away, said the voice in her head. Find the thieves if you can. They found more trouble than they expected.

    What about you? Popilia asked in the same way she might of Nazagin, but Anshar neither answered nor displayed any sign she had heard.

    In the next moment, Anshar¡¯s gaze broke away, drawn to the shimmering mass of ice shards accumulating over Critobulus¡¯ staff. She spoke one word in the dragon tongue. Every shard exploded outwards. They scattered over the guards, slashing exposed skin and rattling from armour. Critobulus flinched back and redirected some with a short incantation, but blood dripped from the top of his left ear.

    ¡®Keep going to the throne room,¡¯ the captain said to her tutor, then drew his sword and walked back to his guards. They drew their swords as well, forming a bright ring of thorns around Anshar and Critobulus.

    Anshar glanced at Popilia again, just briefly, as if measuring something. Then she locked eyes with Critobulus. Her form shimmered like a heat mirage, there one moment, misshapen the next. Popilia¡¯s breath caught in her throat. She stopped mid stride.

    In the blink of an eye, a towering dragon replaced the wrinkled old woman. Anshar reared on his hind feet. His spiked tail lashed out and flung a whole row of guards back into the flowers and trees of the palace gardens. The other guards scrambled back, crying out in alarm.

    Only Critobulus remained where he stood, his staff held aloft in both hands now, his voice booming. Ice lashed around him in a miniature whirlwind. It slashed out at Anshar, pushing his fronds out sideways, cutting into the front of his chest. But Anshar began to sing, and with each bar of song the ice danced away in its own patterns.

    Then, with an uncharacteristic snarl, Anshar lunged for Critobulus, his clawed forelegs outstretched.

    ¡®Get along, your grace!¡¯ Her tutor tugged at her arm and hauled her around.

    Popilia was too surprised to protest ¨C she just staggered forwards for a few steps, through the arch of the inner palace. Her handmaidens looked on with pale faces, light on their feet as if the moment Popilia caught up they would be free to run.

    Something thudded behind her, and a pained roar briefly interrupted Anshar¡¯s song. Every instinct in Popilia told her to turn around again, but Nazagin saw everything, and she saw through her eyes. An arrow had embedded itself in Anshar¡¯s thigh. Up on the palace walls, guards hurried into place and knocked arrows. Someone had blown the horn for the dragon guard. Its cry juddered through the air.

    Anshar will beat them. Nazagin¡¯s pride and confidence battled a near-paralysing fear.

    They weren¡¯t far from the giant throne-room doors when Anshar¡¯s song increased in volume. The sky overhead darkened in an instant, then turned blinding white with a crash of lightning. It exploded into the wall of one of the reception rooms, cracking the brick. One of her handmaidens screamed.

    ¡®Into the throne room. Hurry!¡¯ Her tutor tried to push her through the door, but Popilia set her feet and turned back.

    She couldn¡¯t make out the whole picture through the arch. Anshar¡¯s head and wings weaved this way and that, alternately with the song or with some attack against his assailants. As she watched, he threw himself into the air and pounced upon the archer-lined battlements. Some archers went flying just from the gust of his wings. Others he cast aside with tooth and claw. A few loosed arrows and had them strike home, though, and a chunk of rock came hurtling up to strike one wing.

    Far in the distance, beyond the boundaries of the localised storm, the shadows of other dragons approached.

    With an exasperated sigh, her tutor grabbed her and pulled her into the throne room. Nazagin paced after her with some reluctance. The door slammed shut behind her. All that noise, all that thunder, shut away in an instant.

    Popilia tried to slow her racing heart, to push back tears, but all she saw in that moment was her two parents, standing small against the backdrop of their thrones. They held hands, and some faux concern held court in their eyes.

    A burning anger took hold of Popilia at the sight. She clenched her fists, opened her mouth to demand they let Anshar free, then remembered the dragon¡¯s own words to her: The less they realise you know about me, the better.

    She couldn¡¯t betray Anshar. Not now, even when it could cost him his life. She just had to hope he could hold his own against Critobulus and all of the palace¡¯s guards.

 28. Death Row

    A scream woke Janu from his stupor. A scream, and someone¡¯s grip suddenly tightening on his injured arm. He jerked upright with a cry of pain and almost headbutted Galnai.

    She let go of his arm and raised her hands in apology. Her face was pale and drawn, and tension drew her shoulders up around her neck. Heketas rocked back and forth in the gloom behind her, his knees drawn up to his chin, his hands wrapped around the back of his head.

    ¡®Who screamed?¡¯ Janu asked. His arm throbbed with pain, burning through fresh bandages where Galnai had squeezed it. ¡®Was it me?¡¯

    Galnai shook her head. Only then did Janu take full stock of their surroundings. Behind him, their small, dark room was closed off with a thick wooden door. Iron bars formed a small window at head height. Someone moved around behind it, making small clinking and thudding noises with what might have been tools, or perhaps their confiscated items.

    Ilarion wasn¡¯t in the cell with them.

    Clarity burned through Janu¡¯s mind. The guards, their capture, the cell, the screams...

    ¡®What are they doing to him?¡¯ he asked.

    The muscles of Galnai¡¯s jaw worked before she spoke, and she balled her fists again ¨C this time without Janu¡¯s arm in their grip. Beyond the paleness of her face, which Janu had initially mistaken for fear, a deep rage boiled in her eyes.

    At length, she said, ¡®Pulling his nails.¡¯ She scratched the material of her trousers with her thumbnail as if to reassure herself it was still attached. ¡®They¡¯ve only just started. But they won¡¯t stop.¡¯

    ¡®Why?¡¯

    ¡®Because they¡¯re bloody idiots, that¡¯s why.¡¯ She drew a deep breath. ¡®They see a khunuchanian face in the bowels of their palace, they assume it¡¯s a spy. So they want information.¡¯

    If they didn¡¯t get it from Ilarion, they would try to get it from Galnai. But from the look on her face, she hadn¡¯t got as far as considering that possibility yet.

    Slowly, unsure if he would be able to move without feeling faint again, Janu got to his feet. Pain shot through his left leg and set his vision swimming, but he blinked it away. He swallowed a rush of nausea. Galnai had bandaged his leg as well, and soaked both bandages with water, unless that was his own sweat.

    Janu trudged over to the cell door and peered through the bars. They were at the end of a long corridor of cells, with no sign of Ilarion. The movement he had heard might have been from further along, where the corridor opened up onto a room with desks and benches. The closest desk held an array of torture implements angled, he was sure, precisely so they could see them from their cell. Either that or the noise had come from one of the two guards standing to each side of the door. Janu could just about make out their shoulders if he moved his face close to the wood.

    He stared down the length of the corridor, wondering when the next scream would come, wondering what it would mean if it never did.

    At a noise from behind him, Janu turned. Galnai had stood and begun the pace the cell like an angry cat. From the grazes on her knuckles, she had already tried fighting her way out ¨C from the grip of the guards or through the cell door, or both. Janu¡¯s tired brain cycled through a dozen vague ideas for escape so threadbare that he couldn¡¯t even put words to the images. Nothing would work. They had nothing. They were stuck here. They were doomed.

    Another scream cut through the prison. Janu¡¯s hair stood on end. Animal fear tightened his gut.

    Galnai launched herself past Janu, sending him staggering against the wall, and shoulder-barged the door. ¡®Assholes!¡¯ she shouted, followed by something more colourfully offensive. ¡®He doesn¡¯t have anything to give you. We don¡¯t work for Khunuchan. They cut my bloody ear off. Why would I want anything to do with the place?¡¯

    ¡®Quiet in there!¡¯ one of the guards commanded in a weary voice. He added, ¡®Stupid woman,¡¯ half under his breath, but was lucky that Galnai had already paced back from the door and didn¡¯t hear him.

    Janu closed his eyes and leaned back against the cool stone of the wall. The coolness was deceptive ¨C leaning his arm against it burned just as much as dragon fire.

    Dragon fire. Damn the day he had started working with dragons. Damn the day he had stolen his first egg. Look what it had all led to. He couldn¡¯t even rest safe in the knowledge that his family would be cared for. He hadn¡¯t paid off the landlord yet. They would be homeless and clueless. Worse. A shudder passed through him and his breath spiked. The palace would connect him to them. They would all pay the price for this. He knew it in his gut. There was no vengeance like imperial vengeance.

    He drew a hand over the unscorched side of his face. If only he had told the dragons they couldn¡¯t do it. That the first task, kidnapping the princess and Nazagin, had been enough. That they were dragon thieves, not the sort of thieves who broke into estates and navigated traps and vaults.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    How could he get them out of this? He kept going over the question, even though there was no hope. He couldn¡¯t help it.

    Steps sounded in the distance. Janu stepped up to the window again to see a new guard walking towards them. He sneered at Janu when he noticed his attention, then turned to address the two guards at the door.

    ¡®Bring the traitor,¡¯ he said. ¡®That one has his sentence. It¡¯s to be carried out immediately.¡¯

    The guard on the left acknowledged the order and began unlocking the door, but the one on the right asked, ¡®Do they not need information from him?¡¯

    ¡®Pah. He betrayed his country, and his post. That¡¯s all the information they need. Everything else about him is worthless.¡¯

    ¡®My post?¡¯ Heketas had been curled up as far into the corner as he could get, but now he snapped his head towards the door with a new light in his eyes. ¡®What post is that? The one you didn¡¯t bloody want me for anymore? I was proud in that job. Bloody proud. And you just threw me out. Screw the lot of you. Betraying my bloody post. It was you what betrayed me!¡¯

    ¡®Sure it was.¡¯ The guard pulled the door open and, with his sword point flicking between Galnai and Janu to keep them in line, entered the cell. ¡®That¡¯s why you¡¯re giving thieves guided tours around the palace. Get up.¡¯

    Heketas didn¡¯t move, so the guard reached over and hauled him up by the arm. The man began screaming curses, bucking in the guard¡¯s grip, but the guard just slammed the pommel of his sword into Heketas¡¯ nose. Stunned, he staggered limply alongside the guard.

    Galnai¡¯s muscles bunched, but the guard was no fool, and kept his sword drawn and ready. So all she could do was watch, vibrating from the strain of inaction.

    ¡®What¡¯s his sentence?¡¯ Janu asked.

    The guard who had brought the news sneered as Heketas was brought out of the cell and his hands bound before him.

    ¡®A punishment fit for traitors, of course,¡¯ he said. ¡®Full moon has just gone. The serpents need a good feed.¡¯

    Silence fell over the corridor, punctuated by the cell door slamming closed. Then Heketas began to wail like an infant.

    Janu pressed himself against the door and shouted through the window. ¡®I can tell you what you need to know! Whatever you need. You don¡¯t need to do this.¡¯

    ¡®Save it, thief. Talking won¡¯t save any of you. And it won¡¯t unmake a traitor.¡¯

    So two of them led Heketas away, sobbing and dragging his heels along the ground. His dark, puffy face was the last Janu saw of him, and the staring intensity of his eyes haunted him for some time afterwards.

    Janu sank to the floor, trailing his hands down the wood. He couldn¡¯t help thinking of the serpent they had so closely encountered, and the fact that Heketas couldn¡¯t swim. What a death. Drowned if not eaten.

    Galnai resumed her pacing of the cell, her nostrils flaring, panting almost like an enraged horse. ¡®And what are you torturing us for, if talking won¡¯t save us, hey? Why would we talk?¡¯

    ¡®You¡¯ll talk to make it stop.¡¯ One of the guards¡¯ faces appeared by the window, his eyes sparkling with unkind amusement. ¡®Your friend¡¯ll be yapping in no time, and then he¡¯ll get the reward of a nice, clean death.¡¯

    A sudden movement from Galnai sent Janu leaping away. Her fist struck the metal bars of the window with a resounding crash that shook the entire door in its frame. The guard jumped away, laughing. Even with the door in the way, he couldn¡¯t keep a nervous edge from it. He turned his back to Galnai¡¯s stream of insults, and as he did so another scream echoed down the corridor. This was longer than the last, more drawn-out, broken into several fresh screams that rolled together, as if Ilarion were trying and failing to hold back each one.

    Galnai punched the door again, to no effect. Blood caked her knuckles. Only fury registered on her face, perhaps with the shadow of some second-hand pain.

    ¡®I¡¯ll tell you everything you want to know,¡¯ Janu called up to the guard. ¡®Who we¡¯re working for, why they hired us. The whole deal. Stop torturing him and I¡¯ll give you everything you want.¡¯ Shivers raced through him, electrifying his bones. He couldn¡¯t stop them. Even though Ilarion¡¯s screams had stopped, their echoes lingered in his mind.

    Why was Ilarion staying quiet, anyway? What would telling them betray? The empire already knew of the dragons at Kimah-Kur. The extent of their involvement would come as no great surprise. Perhaps they were just intent on pinning some blame on Khunuchan.

    The guard was staying quiet, too.

    Janu slapped his good hand against the door. ¡®Hey, are you listening? Hey!¡¯

    The man had just turned his head to reply when something else caught his eye. Janu had to stand again to follow his gaze through the small window.

    At the end of the corridor, another guard had appeared. He wore a butcher¡¯s apron dark with old stains and half pushed, half carried a limping Ilarion along before him.

    ¡®You done with him already?¡¯ the cell guard asked.

    The butcher grunted and gestured to the door. ¡®Just open it up, quick. They want as many hands as can make it upstairs.¡¯

    ¡®Problem?¡¯ The key scraped in the lock, and the guard¡¯s helmet blocked Janu¡¯s view for a moment.

    As soon as the door opened, the butcher threw Ilarion in. Galnai caught him ¨C a dead weight that almost knocked her over. Somewhere above them, a heavy thud reverberated through the palace structure, and an unmistakably draconic roar sounded.

    ¡®Sounds like it,¡¯ the butcher said, wiping his hands as he stepped out. He took the apron off and started away from the door. ¡®Sure they¡¯ll have it handled by the time I get there. Then I¡¯ll be back to finish the job.¡¯

    When the cell guard closed the door again, it was with a nervous glance to the ceiling. He clearly didn¡¯t share his colleague¡¯s calm certainty.

    Janu looked to the ceiling himself, pricking his ears for every minute vibration and far-off noise. Had one of the dragon guard¡¯s mounts broken loose, or had a rescue party come from Kimah-Kur? They surely couldn¡¯t know about their capture, and yet...

    He turned to Galnai, who had laid a pale, sweat-drenched Ilarion out on the ground.

    Kneeling next to her, Janu lowered his voice and asked, ¡®Can you get him into a state where he can move in a hurry? We might get a chance to make a break for it soon.¡¯

    Galnai gave the cell door a stare as if sizing it up for an attempt to body slam it from its hinges, but she didn¡¯t get up. She nodded.

    ¡®Don¡¯t think there¡¯s much we can do for him, but we can try,¡¯ she growled. ¡®And if we do get out, you¡¯ll be helping him. I¡¯ll need both my hands free to give those bastards hell.¡¯

 29. Familiar Faces

    Whatever battle raged in the palace grounds above their heads, it ended quickly. Janu kept an ear out as he helped Galnai tend Ilarion¡¯s wounds ¨C they had done more than just take two of his nails, and distracting himself with the noises above was half a substitute for averting his eyes. No wonder he had screamed. Janu would have fainted.

    In any case, it had only sounded like one dragon, and now it sounded like none.

    Janu mopped Ilarion¡¯s sweat-drenched brow. Galnai did most of the work, her hands completely steady, her face passive, set in studious concentration. The remaining guard had given her bandages, but little else. She made do. Ilarion himself had finally slipped into a troubled unconsciousness, twitching at every tug of the bandages.

    All the while, Janu listened. He couldn¡¯t hear any movement above them. But dragons made much more noise than humans. He could just be missing it. Or the battle could have taken to the air and the remnants of the dragon guard.

    After Galnai had finished securing the bandages, as they were doing Ilarion¡¯s clothes back up, the sound of many feet and clinking arms came down the corridor. Chatter came with it, too chaotic to make much sense of, but the laughter and camaraderie suggested they had not just suffered a defeat.

    Janu and Galnai exchanged a glance. No one was coming to get them. They were on their own.

    ¡®Fancy missing out on all that,¡¯ said the other cell guard from earlier, returning to his post.

    ¡®What was it?¡¯ his colleague asked. ¡®Sounded fierce.¡¯

    The guard let out a deep breath. ¡®Huge dragon. Wild one, but alone. Took out a few guys but the high sorcerer kept it mostly at bay. It¡¯s sorted now. Looked like a porcupine and still kept fighting. Took two of the dragon guard to kill it. Rest of the lads are just patching up down here and then they¡¯ll be right back up to clean the mess.¡¯

    ¡®Gods. Glad I wasn¡¯t up there.¡¯

    ¡®Crazy thing is, it was doing magic itself. You ever seen a dragon do magic before?¡¯

    ¡®No.¡¯ A pause. ¡®You sure no one was riding it?¡¯

    ¡®Positive.¡¯

    Janu stood up and went to the window, prepared to tell them just what wild dragons could do if it might change their minds. But his movement attracted the returned guard¡¯s attention,

    The man¡¯s beady eyes glinted through the barred window. ¡®We¡¯ll be shot of this lot soon enough, too,¡¯ he said. ¡®New orders. No more torture ¨C their word¡¯s no use to us. They¡¯ll be hung at first light, once the dragon mess is cleared up.¡¯

    Both guards laughed and started chatting, not looking into the cell any longer. Janu burned his gaze into the back of their heads. His whole left side ached from his burns.

    In the distance, movement suggested the rest of the guards were getting ready to go again.

    There had to be a way to get out. They had taken his shoes and belt, both of which had back-up tools sewn into them, but there had to be a way. Perhaps on their way to the gallows tomorrow, they could run. They wouldn¡¯t all make it, and he didn¡¯t know the way, but they had to try.

    It would leave them empty handed, though. It would make this all for nothing.

    They had to get out, and they had to get the artefact from the chained dragon. Heketas had died for it. A dragon had just been killed for it too.

    But how? Janu¡¯s brained ached. He had let his eyes go unfocussed, and only a sudden shift in the guards¡¯ posture brought him back to the present.

    ¡®Your grace?¡¯ one guard said. ¡®What are you doing here?¡¯

    Popilia strode down the corridor and stopped a couple of yards before them, her hands clasped in front of her. She made a show of wringing them, and though her eyes bore the sore redness of genuine recent tears, Janu was sure of some confidence lurking behind them. His heart leapt ¨C even more so when he noticed Nazagin behind her and her young handmaiden.

    ¡®You need to come quickly,¡¯ she said, her voice quavering. ¡®The dragon did something, with its magic. My parents are being attacked. You have to help.¡¯

    Nazgin¡¯s pointed head waved strangely in the air behind her like the languid dance of a serpent.

    The guard answered with a note of uncertainty. ¡®Why did they send you, your grace?¡¯

    Popilia¡¯s gaze darted to the side where Nazagin stood. ¡®They thought I would be safer away from them. And they needed all the guards up there to stay and help.¡¯If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡®Of course.¡¯ Now the guard¡¯s words were languid, and a pause came before his next words. ¡®That makes sense, your grace. Stay down here where it¡¯s safe. We¡¯ll go up and help.¡¯

    And, without another word, both guards filed past the princess and her dragon, leaving the cell completely undefended.

    Janu grabbed of the window bars. ¡®How did you get here?¡¯ The last he had seen her, she had been safe in Kimah-Kur. ¡®And what was all that with the dragon? Who was it?¡¯

    Popilia drew in a shaky breath, but it was Nazagin who answered. ¡®That was Anshar.¡¯ The hatchling¡¯s voice was stronger than last Janu had heard it. The semblance to Popilia¡¯s voice was still there, but mostly gone, veering far closer to Anshar¡¯s than it had before.

    ¡®We came to stop Critobulus,¡¯ Popilia said. ¡®And to help you. Anshar thought that trying the ritual closer to the source would make it work, but Critobulus saw through his disguise.¡¯

    The thought of a dragon as large as Anshar trying to disguise itself put Janu¡¯s mind on pause for a moment. By the time he shook the questions away, Popilia was already unlocking the door.

    ¡®Did you see another man out there?¡¯ Janu asked. ¡®A prisoner, pot-bellied, scar on his jaw.¡¯

    As Popilia swung the door open, she shook her head. Janu was about to ask if she had heard anyone being fed to the serpents, but thought better of it. It had happened, he was sure, whether she had heard it or not.

    A groan from behind Janu told him Galnai had hauled Ilarion to his feet. The man¡¯s face was tight with pain, his eyes barely focussing on anything around him, only brought into semi-consciousness by motion.

    ¡®Give me a hand, will you?¡¯ Galnai asked.

    Janu stepped in on the other side and helped manoeuvre Ilarion through the cell door. He tried not to think about the injuries the torturer had given him. Seeing them had been bad enough. The way Ilarion¡¯s breath hitched with each step made him wince in sympathy.

    ¡®I don¡¯t know how you¡¯ll get out of the palace,¡¯ Popilia said. She led the way down the corridor, Nazagin walking in step beside her, and kept casting worried glances back over her shoulder. ¡®How did you get in?¡¯

    ¡®There¡¯s a lower level.¡¯ Janu had half expected her to know everything about the palace, and had to set aside the image of her scampering around servants¡¯ corridors in her free time. ¡®We came in there, via the lake. Provided she hasn¡¯t been caught, there¡¯s a woman who can help us get out the same way. But there¡¯s something else we need to do first.¡¯

    Nazagin tilted her head. ¡®You found Izimendalla?¡¯

    ¡®Who?¡¯

    The princess and the hatchling exchanged a glance, as if dragging a spool of information out between each other. Then Popilia stopped, gestured for Janu¡¯s group to lead the way and said, ¡®He¡¯s Critobulus¡¯ bound dragon, and my¨C Anshar¡¯s former student.¡¯ She took a moment to recover from the trip in her words. ¡®They key to completing Anshar¡¯s ritual lies with him.¡¯

    Between them, Janu and Galnai moved Ilarion through the small prison complex. It was all new to Janu, but Galnai must have been conscious and not blindfolded when they brought them up here, because she knew the way.

    ¡®But if Anshar¡¯s dead,¡¯ Janu asked, ¡®how are we going to complete the ritual?¡¯

    ¡®Nazagin will do it.¡¯

    Janu glanced back at Nazagin out of the corner of his eye, at all her ungainly hatchling limbs. How long since she had hatched? Anshar had, he assumed, spent a lifetime learning to do what he could do. Ushuene had chosen no other dragon for the task of breaking the bond. A hatchling fresh from the shell surely couldn¡¯t match that. And yet... the look in Nazagin¡¯s eyes when she stared back at him was older than her years. A spark of Anshar-like mischief twinkled there.

    He turned his attention back ahead of him as they started down the stairs, Galnai first. ¡®Why did the guard believe you when you came to get us?¡¯

    ¡®That was Nazagin, too.¡¯

    ¡®Yes, but how?¡¯

    Nazagin¡¯s head appeared by his side, curving around the top of the stairwell. ¡®I can¡¯t rightly explain it. The "how" and "why" of things are still so jumbled...¡¯

    A pained mumble from Ilarion cut her short. ¡®Soul transfer. Anshar¡¯s, to you?¡¯

    It took a while to make out the words. By the time Janu did, Nazagin was already nodding. ¡®I didn¡¯t... It¡¯s not normal to receive a soul this young. But the alternatives were Izimendalla or one of the dragon guard. Anshar did what he could to avoid that, before he died.¡¯ There was a note of consternation in her voice, as if the death was something she couldn¡¯t quite believe. Did she remember it, from Anshar¡¯s view?

    The thought made Janu shudder.

    When they at last reached the bottom of the stairs, they found themselves in the abandoned barracks again. Its quiet was eerier than before. Janu found himself peering into every shadow, certain they must have posted guards now they knew people could get in this way, but the fight with Anshar really had drawn them all out.

    ¡®We should leave him here,¡¯ Galnai said, inclining her head to one of the bare beds. ¡®If we¡¯re set on going after that dragon, he won¡¯t be up to it.¡¯

    Ilarion made no protest, and Janu nodded. Between the two of them, they got him settled ¨C albeit uncomfortably ¨C on the wooden slats of the nearest bed, padded with a bundle of damp clothes. Only then did he try to rise, but his face immediately paled and he lay back down. It was hardly safe leaving him here, but safer than holding him out in front of a fire-breathing dragon.

    ¡®So how does your ritual work?¡¯ Janu asked. ¡®What do you need to do?¡¯

    Nazagin and Popilia exchanged another glance, and Janu felt Popilia¡¯s attention on the singed side of his body.

    Popilia said, ¡®We need to paint some patterns on Izimendalla. Then Nazagin can work the ritual. Maybe we can wait until he¡¯s asleep.¡¯

    ¡®You need to...¡¯ Janu closed his eyes and passed a hand over his mouth. ¡®This place will be swarming with guards if we wait a moment too long. Whatever we have to do, we have to do it now. Do you even have paint?¡¯

    She shook her head, her lips pressed into a thin line.

    ¡®Anything that makes a mark will do,¡¯ Nazagin said. ¡®Paint, powder, charcoal, blood. Dust, maybe, made into a paste.¡¯

    Janu nodded and pushed aside a wave of despair in favour of rationality. ¡®Let¡¯s get moving, then. Critobulus has a room with materials on the way. With luck, you can find what you need there.¡¯ Remembering the siren fruit he had thrown in the water before their escape, he realised they would likely need to improvise some defence against that, as well. He hadn¡¯t made things easy for himself, that was for sure.

    Then again, all his plans were easy compared to Popilia¡¯s. He turned to her and asked, ¡®How exactly do you plan to paint a dragon that¡¯s breathing fire at you?¡¯

    ¡®With luck.¡¯ She shrugged, then gave him a disturbingly sweet smile that he had never before seen on her, and didn¡¯t reach her eyes. ¡®And with you all distracting him.¡¯

 30. Staying Alive

    They decided to move Ilarion after all. Janu could have done without lugging his weight around, but the man made a good point ¨C there was a bed in the labyrinth, and if they needed to spend a while making paint, he could at least be an extra pair of hands. So they left the barracks with him limping between Galnai and Janu again, back into the darkness of the blocked tunnel entrance.

    Janu swore. ¡®We should have found a lantern to bring with us.¡¯ He couldn¡¯t even tell if the hidden entrance was still open or if the guards had resealed it. Water rushed and lapped at the edges of the stream to his left.

    A few light footsteps sounded from where Popilia had been behind him, then she scurried back with a dim oil lamp, one hand cradling its tiny flame. It didn¡¯t illuminate much besides her face.

    When she stopped, the footsteps didn¡¯t.

    Whirling to face the new sound, Janu reached for a dagger that was no longer there. Then the footsteps stopped, leaving his heartbeat thudding in his ears.

    ¡®Janu!¡¯ The voice was Divya¡¯s, pitched low but full of relief. ¡®I had about given up on you.¡¯ Something cracked, and a faint glow sprung to life where she stood, emanating from a small horn bowl in her hand.

    ¡®Divya.¡¯ Her name came out as a sigh. Janu half wanted to go over and hug the old woman. ¡®Come with us. We don¡¯t have much time.¡¯

    ¡®What, and get caught in the same spot as you did? Pah! You can¡¯t be serious.¡¯

    Popilia took a couple of steps closer to the woman. ¡®If we do this, we can free all the dragons at once, and the guards will have more to worry about than us.¡¯

    Divya blinked and stared down at the girl, her brow furrowed. ¡®So you must be the princess? You have a lot of faith, girl. Arresting us will be far preferable to facing angry dragons, I am sure.¡¯

    ¡®She¡¯s persuasive.¡¯ Janu recalled the odd mannerisms of the guards when she had come to rescue them. ¡®Magically so. I trust her.¡¯ And, as he said it, he realised he did ¨C in a wavery, gut sense that his mind didn¡¯t want to agree with.

    ¡®Hmm. So be it, then. I will do what I can, but do not doubt that I will escape again if I must. I don¡¯t have as much fondness for my clothes getting burned off as you do.¡¯

    Janu laughed, though her words drew his attention back to the incessant, hot ache of his left side. ¡®Let¡¯s get moving, then.¡¯

    <hr>

    Critobulus had more than enough inks, powders and dyes for Popilia to gather the supplies she needed. Her sheer efficiency in preparing the materials left Divya with very little time to patch any of their wounds, and Janu couldn¡¯t help but feel guilty when they delayed their progress for her to apply a balm to his burns. Relief overweighed the guilt soon enough, though. Coolness, as if from a fresh breeze, smoothed over his skin.

    ¡®Do not go getting burned again,¡¯ Divya told him, wagging her finger as if her were one of her younger family members. ¡®I will charge the next time.¡¯

    Janu was about to protest, but she took up a pot of paste, swiped her fingers through it and smeared a thick dab under his nose. He recoiled at the stench that struck him ¨C the same scent that had seen them through the waters of the lake without drowning.

    ¡®We¡¯re not swimming anywhere,¡¯ he said as Divya grinned wickedly.

    Turning to apply the same paste to the others, Divya said, ¡®You told me you needed something for the siren fruit. This is not much, but it is something. When we are in there, breathe through your nose only ¨C never your mouth. While you all dance around trying not to become dragon food, I will go and search for it. If I find it in time, I can seal it away. If I don¡¯t, well, those of us who didn¡¯t eat it can put the other out of their misery, I¡¯m sure.¡¯

    A hard lump formed in Janu¡¯s throat. He swallowed it away. He couldn¡¯t argue her point. He had seen a siren tree without ripe fruit, once, parts of a mangled cow skeleton jutting from the flesh of its lower trunk and roots. No one wanted to live through the beginning of that. Anyone faced with it would rather a quick death. The best they could do was give it to them.

    ¡®We should go now, then,¡¯ he said. ¡®Before the smell wears off.¡¯

    Without waiting for a response, he picked up a candle and started down the corridor that led to the last stretch of labyrinth. A scuttle of claws and light feet told him Popilia and Nazagin had followed straight away. He wondered if they would have been so eager if they had seen the dragon they were about to face.

    His candle flickered and danced, barely lighting the way. They would be blind again in there. The only light Popilia would have to paint by would be the flashes of the dragon¡¯s flame as it tried to burn them all.

    At the sound of a whispered argument behind him, Janu glanced over his shoulder. Orange light picked out the extremities of his companions¡¯ faces ¨C including both Galnai and Ilarion¡¯s. The man walked with the aid of one of the bed slats they had used to lever up the trapped floor tiles, his face taut with pain but his gaze lucid, if his pupils were a little wide. Divya¡¯s painkiller must have been good.

    Well, if he wanted to go with them, Janu wasn¡¯t about to stop him. He focussed on the way ahead, counting the turns in his mind. When they reached the last corner, he stopped and extinguished his candle, plunging them all into smoke- and paste-scented blackness.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    Popilia¡¯s voice broke the ensuing silence. ¡®Let us go ahead,¡¯ she said. ¡®Nazagin can see a little better in the dark.¡¯

    Though he wondered how much good a little better than ¡®not at all¡¯ would do them, Janu stepped aside. Air and dragon hide brushed past him a moment later.

    ¡®Follow us.¡¯

    Janu followed the sound of their footsteps more than their actual presence. He strained as hard as he could to pick them out from his own steps and those behind him. Only when they neared the end of the corridor did he realise he could see their outlines, albeit indistinctly. Deep scratching and rumbling sounds from further ahead told him the dragon was still awake, and something was splashing in the cavern¡¯s pool.

    They filed out into the cavern.

    To the left, where Janu had thrown the clay-encased siren fruit into the pool, a half-dozen lanterns lay abandoned on the floor. Their light picked out the form of several guards, stumbling about in the water or at its edge. Their shadows danced across the wall behind them, tall and misshapen.

    The dragon strained at the chains that bound it. It hadn¡¯t seen them enter ¨C it only had eyes for the guards, a constant growl-hiss emanating from its throat like a crocodile¡¯s roar. Tongues of flame licked between its bared teeth.

    Unfazed, Popilia kept walking towards the dragon, her and Nazagin both dwarfed by its bulk, pots of dye dangling from the makeshift belts and bandoliers they both carried. No questions, no doubts, no second thoughts. Janu envied her courage.

    Divya appeared by his shoulder. ¡®Leave her to do her bit. Come, while they are all distracted.¡¯

    After a moment, Janu tore his gaze away from Popilia and followed the others. They made their way towards the guards, who didn¡¯t pay them the slightest attention. They were too busy scouring the floor around them or splashing through the water, driven to distraction by the smell of siren fruit. Janu had seen its effects before, though only ever from a distance, and he had never stuck around for long afterwards. Every part of him recoiled. Run away, that sight said. Before you go mad as well.

    But all he could smell was Divya¡¯s scented dirt. He kept walking.

    As she passed the first of the guards, Divya gestured back to them and said in a stage whisper, ¡®Take their weapons.¡¯

    The guards still didn¡¯t react, so Janu approached the nearest. He had to keep dodging and dancing around the man¡¯s haphazard movements to avoid getting hit. When he reached towards the guard¡¯s sword belt, the man shoved him hard without even looking at him.

    Janu staggered back, almost tripping over a lantern. He waited for a moment with only the beating of his heart and the dragon¡¯s rumbling overhead in his ears. The guard just kept searching for the fruit. Janu had just been in the way. So next time, he approached the guard from behind. In a matter of seconds, he managed to unclip his sword from its sheath and tuck it under his arm. The guard continued his eternal search, and Janu moved on to the next.

    A scuffle ahead caught his attention. Galnai stood with her hands locked around another guard¡¯s spear, trying to pull it out of his hands. The guard clung on, tugging it as if he had simply got it stuck in a bush, but otherwise paying her no heed.

    Casting about on the floor around him, Janu found a hand-sized rock and hefted it. It was about the size of a siren fruit. He had no idea if this would work, but there was no harm trying. He tossed the rock underarm, past the guard Galnai was grappling, into the nearby water.

    All the guards¡¯ heads snapped around at the splash. Galnai¡¯s let his spear slip from his fingers and lurched towards the water, shoving one of his colleagues out of the way. Then a sheet of flame lanced down from above. Janu leapt away and landed on his tailbone, his heart hammering, his teeth snapping closed with the impact. Even the guards jumped back, though the hair of one had caught alight. He screamed an all-too aware scream and plunged his head into the steaming water at his feet.

    After a moment, the others resumed their attempts to disarm the guards, though they never turned their backs nor took their gazes from the dragon.

    Janu sat on the floor still, his stolen sword clutched to his chest, the giant, flame-filled maw of the dragon occupying his entire vision.

    Faint green lines glowed in the blackness behind the dragon¡¯s straining head and neck. Their odd patterns and swirls mapped out the lurking bulk of its body. Following them as best he could, Janu eventually found the tiny forms of Popilia and Nazagin, each working on a different line, clinging to the dragon¡¯s hide as it shook and bellowed. Great chains held it back, not budging an inch for its efforts. And on the chain around its neck still gleamed the horn.

    Janu got to his feet. The dragon wanted the siren fruit. While it wanted that, it was much like the guards ¨C it wanted nothing else, would react to nothing else.

    He started walking, then broke into a jog when it really sank in that the dragon wasn¡¯t paying him any attention. The side of his leg burned despite the balm. Galnai hissed something behind him, but he couldn¡¯t make out the words.

    Popilia looked up at the sound of his jogging, but kept painting. She had made quick work of it ¨C the paint almost covered what Janu could see of the dragon¡¯s hide. But gods, how much could he see? To say there were miles of it would have been an exaggeration, but it didn¡¯t feel that way. Its neck stood like the branch of a giant tree above him, stretched as far as it could go. The dark, mottled feathers of its forelegs grew closer. He examined them for handholds, tried to plan his route from claw to ankle to knee to the chain around the base of its neck. It wouldn¡¯t be easy, but it wouldn¡¯t be trying to kill him, at least.

    Lightning slashed across the room. Janu cried out and stopped in his tracks, throwing up his arms to shield his face. The next moment he was blind, blinking, eyes seared and watering.

    Above him, the dragon keened, a discordant hissing growl that set his teeth on edge. In a moment, a chanting voice thundered over it: Critobulus¡¯ voice.

    Janu froze. Another wave of light rolled across the chamber, but this time it stayed. He had nowhere to hide.

    A horrible screeching, grinding noise shuddered through the air. Fear gripped Janu¡¯s heart and limbs. He couldn¡¯t move except to look up, to where the chains holding the dragon to the wall were beginning to crack.

    That snapped him out of it.

    ¡®Run!¡¯ he shouted to Popilia, then again to the others as he turned, ¡®Run!¡¯

    He sprinted towards them, not the door, conscious of Critobulus standing there with his staff raised. If they all rushed him at once, maybe they would stand a chance, but he sure as hell wasn¡¯t trying to get past the sorcerer alone.

    One of the chains broke with a crack like thunder. Roaring, the dragon surged forwards and broke the remaining chains. Janu threw himself forwards and rolled, catching a glimpse of painted feathers rushing past him. Then with an almighty splash, the dragon shoved its face into the water. A guard screamed, the scream turning to gurgles then silence within a heartbeat.

    Janu looked over, holding his breath with trepidation. All was still bar the dragon, which raised its head slowly from the water, dripping crimson blood and green dye.

    It licked its lips, savouring the taste of siren fruit, and turned its attention to them.

 31. The Giant Awakes

    Popilia crouched amidst the rough feathers of Izimendalla¡¯s back, legs braced against his movements, one hand buried in the feathers of Nazagin¡¯s neck. Horror coursed through the both of them equally. In the last few moments of their painting, Nazagin had caught her first whiff of the siren fruit through Divya¡¯s paste. Tantalising, inescapable, even Popilia had been compelled to look in its direction through senses not her own.

    The smell was gone now, bar trace remnants. It had gone with a bite of Izimendalla¡¯s great jaws and an accompaniment of blood.

    In one of the palace tapestries, there was a scene of a dragon that had eaten a siren fruit, twisted mid-flight in agony with tree limbs sprouting from its hide. Legend ¨C or at least, her tutor ¨C said its drug-fuelled rampage before that point had seen a dozen villages destroyed. How long until that madness took hold of Izimendalla?

    Stay focussed, Nazagin told her, her mind¡¯s voice not betraying her fear. Anshar¡¯s warm strength lay behind it. This could work in our favour, and it may not be too late for Izimendalla.

    ¡®What can I even do?¡¯ Popilia peered around Izimendalla¡¯s neck at the cluster of thieves and slowly recovering guards.

    Get the horn and bring it back to me. That¡¯s it. Don¡¯t worry about anything else.

    Popilia turned at the absurdity of not worrying and met the startling brilliance of Nazagin¡¯s eyes. Certainty radiated from her, from the remnants of Anshar¡¯s soul within her. If she didn¡¯t know what she was doing, she at least knew better than Popilia.

    Something hard and metallic thudded into the floor near the entrance. A moment later, as Popilia turned again to begin her task, Critobulus¡¯ voice rang out in the first strains of a chant. Nazagin¡¯s voice immediately leapt in to challenge his behind her.

    Popilia set her jaw, remembering the whirlwind and thunder of the ritual in Kimah-Kur. She ran along Izimendalla¡¯s broad back. The base of his neck seemed miles away, and the muscles before it bunched and rippled as he stretched his malformed wings. Over his shoulder, the guards blinked back into awareness, their hands reaching for weapons that, for the most part, were no longer there. One still had his sword and drew it, glinting in the new light.

    ¡®Janu!¡¯ Popilia shouted, seeing him struggle to rise from the floor. ¡®Look out!¡¯

    One of Inzimendalla¡¯s back spikes tripped her and she missed the next moment, landing heavily on her hands and knees. The markings beneath her had begun to glow a sickly, pulsing green. When she looked up, Janu was frantically fending off blows from the guard with his right hand, clutching a couple of other stolen weapons in his left. Ilarion was trying to get to him, fending off three unarmed guards with efficient but exhausted swordwork.

    A sharp note of alarm from Nazagin made Popilia throw herself flat. Something whizzed through the air where her head had been and smashed against the cavern wall.

    Critobulus. She threw herself forwards before he could send another rock her way, gaze darting between the terrain beneath her and the battle ahead.

    Izimendalla¡¯s head swayed with the dual rhythm of the chant. Whether the conflicting tug of each stream of magic stayed his action or the effects of the siren fruit, Popilia couldn¡¯t tell. But it gave her and the thieves time to act.

    Galnai was charging spear-first towards Critobulus, hugging the wall, outside his notice. Ilarion cut through the last of the guards between him and Janu, but too late. A swift slice from the guard¡¯s sword came under Janu¡¯s clumsy guard and sank deep into his left arm. He yelled twice in surprise and pain, too shocked to parry the next blow. The next blow never fell ¨C Ilarion ran the guard through ¨C but the damage was done.

    At the sight of how limply the arm hung, Popilia blanched and tore her gaze away. Movement in the corner of her eye warned her of another rock. She threw herself forwards, landing flat on her face. The rock scored a burning line over her backside and she muffled a cry into Izimendalla¡¯s back, but kept moving, wriggling on elbows and knees. Ahead of her, perhaps another few seconds away, stood the edge of the great chain around Izimendalla¡¯s neck. But before that was his wings and, raised a little as they were, they would offer her some protection from the rocks.

    Popilia darted a glance at Critobulus and met his direct gaze. Shock jolted through her. It pushed her limbs into motion before she could even think, before she could process the whirlwind of dust and stone surrounding the coldness of his eyes. She rushed headlong for the safety of Izimendalla¡¯s wings, stumbling as he shifting his weight, but never falling. A constant hail of rocks whizzed by in her wake, and she had to hold up her arms to protect her face when Critobulus began anticipating her movement and aiming ahead.

    By the time she reached safety, a dozen cuts and bruises covered her arms and left side. Her hip pulsed with pain. One of her fingers was bent at an unnatural angle, but she couldn¡¯t even feel that one through the adrenaline.

    If my parents could see what you had done! she thought out of habit. She shook the thought free. Her breath came in gasps. Her teeth chattered at the end of every exhale.

    Just a little more. The thought might have come from her, or it might have come from Nazagin. She stepped forwards without stopping to work out which. The weight of Nazagin¡¯s ritual, the whispering knowledge and workings of magic, both tugged at the edges of Popilia¡¯s mind like half her brain was speaking a language she couldn¡¯t understand.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    ¡®Izimendalla!¡¯ Critobulus¡¯ voice boomed across the cavern as Popilia walked. Irritation sept from every crashing syllable. ¡®Finish them!¡¯

    With a groan like grinding ice, Izimendalla reared his neck up until his head scraped rocks from the ceiling. Muscles rippled all along his back, making Popilia dance from side to side to keep her footing. She lurched forwards as she came to the base of his neck and grabbed hold of the chain with both hands.

    ¡®Izimendalla!¡¯ Critobulus repeated the name like a mantra.

    Then, as Popilia hugged herself to the chain, madness swept over her ¨C ancient, festering madness, incoherent, filled with rage. It flooded her limbs with an alien warmth, a violent urge to action. And in amongst it all was a stubborn denial, a need to refuse the irrefusable. Further distant, she sensed a tinge of frustration, of arrogance, and knew without needing to think about it that that was Critobulus, through her bond with Nazagin, connected to the bond between Izimendalla and the high sorcerer.

    She shuddered and edged carefully around Izimendalla¡¯s neck, holding tight to the chain. But something in Izimendalla¡¯s psyche crumbled. His rage soared, but he could no longer refuse. He surged forwards.

    Popilia cried out, losing her footing to dangle by both hands. Beneath her, the thieves and few remaining guards scattered, but Ilarion was too slow. Izimendalla¡¯s clawed foot crashed down on top of him. Pinned to the ground, the man struggled to worm free, his face pale, his eyes wide as he stared at the dragon over his shoulder.

    Heat began to prickle over Popilia¡¯s head. She didn¡¯t look. She just moved along the chain, hand over hand, finding footholds where she could, swinging between handholds where she couldn¡¯t. Every moment or two, she glanced left, along the great curve of flesh, watching for the horn to come into view. The magic around her had become a riot of confusing sensation, making her dizzy if she didn¡¯t completely focus her thoughts on the task at hand. Nazagin¡¯s emotions trod a thin line between triumph and terror, and all trace of Anshar was gone.

    Someone yelled below her, more in frustration than pain. Closer to Critobulus, there was a dull thwack followed by a heavy thud. Above her, with a throaty wheeze like bellows expanding, Izimendalla drew in a breath.

    At last, Popilia caught sight of the edge of the horn. She hurried over, placed one hand around its carven surface and pulled. It wouldn¡¯t budge. She pulled again, examining as she did how it had been attached to the chain. The magic seemed more turbulent here, like all its ripples and eddies emanated from this one place, and her half awareness of it muddled her thoughts. It took her far too long to realise the horn¡¯s ends had been clamped in, like a gem set into a ring.

    The heat above her intensified. She glanced up for just a moment, long enough to see the white-hot flame gathering at the back of Izimendalla¡¯s throat, held back only by one last crumbling effort of will.

    Grunting with effort, she hauled her legs up, bunched them, then kicked at the clamps with all her might. Her feet struck then skidded off to the side, scraping her ankle against the metal. She stifled a cry behind gritted teeth. She kicked again. The clamp moved a fraction and she almost lost her grip on the horn as it wobbled in place.

    Come on. She just needed to get it out! Nazagin was doing the hard work. The thieves were dying. She just had to get a stupid horn.

    She yelled and kicked again, and again. Each time the metal moved a fraction more. Pain shot through her ankle. Something wet trickled down her leg.

    The intake of breath petered out into a dangerous silence. Popilia gave one last, desperate kick, and the horn fell free from that side of the clasp. She lurched down with it, scrabbled for purchase, just managed to get a grip on the chain again as it slipped from the other clasp. Magic snapped into focus around her, like a tuneless harp suddenly finding a clear note, and the tides of control shifted.

    Horror. Fear. They burst from Critobulus in that moment, as his mind truly opened to Izimendalla through their bond, as he witnessed the full scope of the dragon¡¯s maddened fury.

    Izimendalla¡¯s head snapped to the side. He bellowed out a thick stream of flame so hot it scorched Popilia¡¯s scalp. Popilia could only stare as it flew towards Critobulus. All the man¡¯s fear, any pain he suffered... Izimendalla could feel it too, but paid it no heed. The dragon¡¯s rage only increased as Critobulus used his magic to shield himself from the flames. They licked around him, scorching the bare earth, but leaving the man himself unscathed.

    With a guttural roar that shook rocks from the ceiling, Izimendalla leapt across the cavern in one bound and struck Critobulus down with the foot that had been pinning Ilarion. Pain shot across Popilia¡¯s side. She gasped and almost let go of the chain.

    Critobulus¡¯ magic could do nothing for him. His staff lay shattered on the ground. His fall had knocked the wind from his chanting. Popilia stared down from her vantage into his wide eyes, heart racing with his mounting terror, feeling the muscles in Izimendalla¡¯s neck set into motion. In that moment, Nazagin severed the ritual, but the horror didn¡¯t fade ¨C it just morphed into their own private emotion.

    Because Nazagin could look away, but Popilia couldn¡¯t.

    Izimendalla withdrew his foot. Critobulus¡¯ chest heaved, but he didn¡¯t have time to move. The dragon¡¯s head whipped down and in a snap of jaws, he was gone, leaving only a red smear and a deep gouge in the dirt. Only then did Popilia press her face into Izimendalla¡¯s neck and screw her eyes tight shut.

    Bones snapped and crunched above her. Various objects she didn¡¯t want to think about splashed and splattered over her back. Nazagin¡¯s sickness coiled around her, unsettling her stomach and making her wish she could ignore their bond, just this once, just for peace.

    It is over, Nazagin told her. It is safe.

    Over the course of several seconds, Popilia relaxed her hold on Izimendalla¡¯s neck and looked about her, trying to avoid the sight of the dragon¡¯s blood-flecked jaws. He was swaying in place, otherwise unmoving. On the floor, Galnai was holding a hand to her bloodied forehead, her back against the wall, Ilarion was wheezing and trying to sit up, and the new woman was tending to a motionless Janu.

    She bit her lip, but she couldn¡¯t bring herself to move. A quick glance up showed surprisingly little blood on Izimendalla¡¯s jaw, but from this angle he was some distant, unpredictable monolith.

    He¡¯s mad, she told Nazagin. You felt it too. What if he turns on us?

    Trust me. The reassurance behind her words was minimal. He is free, for the first time in a long while. He won¡¯t turn his teeth on that freedom.

    Doubtful, Popilia took a deep breath, loosened her belt enough to shove the horn through it, and began the slow climb across Izimendalla¡¯s neck and down. The threat of those mad jaws loomed above her. With every move across his hide, she willed him not to strike. She kept her eyes fixed to the way ahead, to the motion of her hands and feet, all her nerves quivering in anticipation.

    When her feet at last struck the ground, she breathed a deep sigh of relief... and turned, straight into Izimendalla¡¯s gaze.

 32. New Magic, Ancient Anger

    The whole room shook around Janu, and the light was fading. Bright magic illumination gave way to flickering candle light, and it seemed that shadow instead of flame leapt and danced over the rocks. He couldn¡¯t focus on any of it. His breath came in short gasps. A thousand needles juddered and poked behind his eyes. Someone was speaking loudly ¨C too loudly, the bass growls of their voice at the root of the shaking.

    ¡®We need to get out.¡¯ He tried to roll over and failed, pawing at Divya with his right arm. He couldn¡¯t move his left. ¡®Get off me. Let me up. The room...¡¯ It swam again before his eyes. He blinked and swallowed a lump of pain-tinged nausea. ¡®...falling.¡¯

    Divya glanced at him, her expression stern, but her eyes full of concern. Her appearance shifted from young to old to hideously burned with each shift in the light.

    ¡®You¡¯re going nowhere, Janu,¡¯ she said. ¡®Now stay still. The room is in better shape than you.¡¯

    Janu brought his right hand up and laid it on his forehead as if he could push back the headache that was building there. The loud voice kept going, pulsing in his skull, breaking only now and then for some quieter conversant to speak.

    ¡®Is that Galnai talking?¡¯ he asked. ¡®Can... tell her be quiet?¡¯

    He tried to push himself up again to see what was going on, but he still couldn¡¯t move his left arm. Glancing towards it, he gagged.

    ¡®Don¡¯t look!¡¯ Divya turned his face away, but he swatted at her hand and fought against her. Her hands were blood red, and she was cutting through something with a knife.

    Janu¡¯s gaze kept drifting away from the knife, towards his upper arm, where a too-tight strip of cloth wound around his flesh.

    ¡®It¡¯s too tight,¡¯ he said. ¡®I can¡¯t feel anything.¡¯ That was a lie. Every time Divya moved the knife, something tugged his arm. His vision wavered for a moment. Gorge rose in his throat.

    ¡®Ilarion.¡¯ Divya waved one red hand to the side, not taking her attention from Janu¡¯s arm. ¡®Ilarion, reach into my back belt pouch. There you will find a phial of white liquid. Find a cup, mix it with a little water, and have Janu drink it for me.¡¯

    Ilarion staggered over from the right, wincing, one hand held across his chest. His shirt was pink where it had been slashed over one shoulder.

    Janu wanted to keep an eye on him and on Divya, to find out what she was doing to his arm, but then his eyes found enough focus to make out, in the fading light, what stood further into the room.

    The dragon still lived. Red streaks painted its jaws ¨C he knew it must be blood, for Popilia¡¯s markings still visible on the rest of its hide were green. The girl herself stood there talking to it alongside Nazagin, practically nose to nose, but it didn¡¯t attack. Its head wove from side to side, and every now and then it drew its lips back in a silent snarl, but it didn¡¯t attack.

    At length, Janu realised the loud voice was his ¨C the dragon Izimendalla¡¯s. That realisation was like a puzzle piece clicking into place, and finally the noise resolved into harsh words spoken by an unpractised tongue.

    ¡®I feel Anshar amongst you, and yet I do not see him. What trick is this?¡¯

    Nazagin replied, and Janu had to focus with all his might to hear her.

    ¡®How much have you forgotten in your time trapped beneath the earth, old friend? You sense Anshar because he is within me, as any dragon¡¯s soul within another.¡¯

    Janu missed the first few words of Izimendalla¡¯s response, as Ilarion came over and cradled his head, tilting it up to give him a sip from a small bowl. Parched, Janu didn¡¯t care to object, but the damned drink was so bitter when it hit his tongue that he gagged and turned his head away, trying to spit out what he could.

    ¡®¡ªonly yesterday,¡¯ Izimendalla was saying. ¡®I am not so lost. But tell me, children, what was your intent in freeing me?¡¯

    Ilarion called back over his shoulder as he drew a small, stoppered skin from his belt. ¡®Freedom,¡¯ he said, ¡® for you and all your kin. That is all the intent we need, surely?¡¯ He unstoppered the skin and poured a small measure of its contents into the bowl. ¡®We freed you for freedom¡¯s sake.¡¯

    Izimendalla made a derisive snort. ¡®I could not have been the easiest target.¡¯

    Having swirled the bowl around, Ilarion put it to Janu¡¯s lips again and wouldn¡¯t let him shy away. This time, at least, the bitterness carried an overpowering kick to it. Warmth flowed down Janu¡¯s throat and burned through his sinuses.

    Through watery eyes, he watched Divya move something distinctly arm-shaped and distinctly unattached to one side. He found he didn¡¯t care much, though his mind kept poking up against it like a finger at a new spot.

    ¡®We also think you can help us,¡¯ Popilia said, though Janu had trouble focussing on her voice. ¡®Nazagin isn¡¯t strong enough to do the ritual Anshar came here for. But you are. Or, Nazagin says you are, at least.¡¯

    Look at the thing. Of course it¡¯s strong. Janu waved his free hand in the air to trace the giant form of Izimendalla, only realising halfway through that he hadn¡¯t spoken out loud. Ilarion¡¯s face wrinkled with such concern that Janu almost laughed at him. Whatever Divya was still doing over by his shoulder made little sharp hisses and let out puffs of scent like burning meat. She swore a lot. He should probably have found that worrying.

    ¡®What would you have me do?¡¯ the dragon asked.

    Janu tried to pay attention. He really did. But they kept going on about magic and bonds and horns, and about three words into each sentence he found his attention drifting. Ilarion was trying to talk to him, too, holding his hand, of all things. His voice grew a little more panicked each time Janu looked left. Divya even clucked at him for it once or twice.

    ¡®Are you cooking something?¡¯ Janu asked her after the second cluck.

    ¡®No, Janu.¡¯

    ¡®I can smell food.¡¯ His mouth was watering so much he kept having to swallow. ¡®Been a while since we ate.¡¯Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡®Janu!¡¯ Her voice snapped with exasperation. ¡®For the love of all things holy, be quiet and stay still. No, you do not smell food. You smell your own flesh burning.¡¯

    ¡®But¡ª¡¯ He lifted his head to check. The dragon was over there, and he didn¡¯t remember it burning him again since last time.

    ¡®No buts! Don¡¯t move. I am burning the ends of the blood vessels in your arm to stop all your blood flowing out of you, and every time you move, it is harder to burn the right spot.¡¯ As she spoke, there came another one of those sharp hisses, and he felt a small sting as that from an insect.

    Loud, semi-tuneful chanting spread through the room. Over Ilarion¡¯s shoulder, the dragon had taken the horn from Popilia. As Janu watched, it brought the point to its neck and cut a crimson line in the softer part of its hide above its underside.

    Janu tried to point at it, his efforts hampered by Ilarion¡¯s grasp of his right hand. ¡®You¡¯ll have to burn his, too. He¡¯ll bleed more than me.¡¯ After a drawn-out sigh from Divya, he rethought and added, ¡®I suppose he can burn his own, though, what with being a dragon and all.¡¯

    Izimendalla¡¯s chanting cut like a whip, full of anger and energy, cracking from the sides of the cavern like thunder. Popilia took a few steps back from him, consulting Nazagin with concerned glances and silent conversation. Dust began to swirl around the dragon¡¯s feet, darkening the room even further and making Divya¡¯s curses increase in fervour.

    One patch of warm light bobbed closer to them and Galnai appeared with a lantern held aloft. With her other hand she held a cloth to her forehead. Red streaks painted the side of her face, but Janu had seen Galnai weather worse injuries without complaint. She didn¡¯t need anything burning. As the dust picked up, she swatted at the air by her missing ear, scowling, and eventually moved the cloth to cover it instead of the scrape on her head.

    Ilarion looked up at her approach. ¡®Are we all clear of guards?¡¯

    ¡®Don¡¯t know. Had my face in the dirt.¡¯ She jerked her head in the dragon¡¯s direction. ¡®Imagine that one¡¯ll deal with them if they turn up, though.¡¯

    As Galnai took a seat beside Divya, Ilarion stared back at the dragon and whatever magic it was working. It clearly didn¡¯t need Popilia¡¯s help ¨C she was trudging across the chamber towards them with one arm raised to ward off the wind. Janu was accumulating quite an audience.

    ¡®We¡¯re overlooking one big problem here,¡¯ Ilarion said. ¡®We¡¯ve freed Izimendalla ¨C that¡¯s all well and good ¨C and Critobulus is dead... but how are we going to get him out of the palace?¡¯

    Even Divya paused in her work and glanced over to the enormous dragon, far bigger than even the collapsed tunnel entrance he had been brought in by. Janu chuckled at the thought of him tunnelling up through the palace grounds like a giant mole. That was the sort of thing Fraidun would have loved to see. Poetic justice, in a way, for the imperial family ¨C to be turned over and buried by the creatures they had enslaved.

    Galnai shrugged. ¡®It¡¯s all hard rock here, but he¡¯s a big dragon. Could just go straight up.¡¯

    Divya shook her head as she tugged on a length of bandage. ¡®Have you not been keeping track of where we are? Even if I couldn¡¯t feel the water above us, I know we have walked further than the width of the palace. We are directly beneath the lake. Going up might get him out, but it would drown us all. Not to mention it would flood the lower levels of the palace.¡¯

    ¡®Well, we can just use your scales again. And who cares if the palace floods. Idiots shouldn¡¯t have built it below water level.¡¯

    ¡®The servants would care,¡¯ said Popilia as she reached them. ¡®They¡¯re all quartered on that level. They¡¯ll be working in the kitchens down there, too. It might damage the eggs in the hatchery as well.¡¯

    Janu tried to gesture with his left arm, but it just provoked a string of curses from Divya. ¡®Just have him magic himself out.¡¯

    She ignored him, which he considered poor manners for a princess, and said, ¡®When they were building the palace, they drained the lake. I remember hearing about it, but I can¡¯t remember the details. I think maybe they diverted the rivers into the canals. But if they did it once, they might be able to do it again.¡¯

    Ilarion¡¯s voice was soft when he replied. ¡®What would we do? Just walk upstairs and ask nicely? You may be royalty, but I doubt your family would aid us in this regard. They have already shown they¡¯re not above torture.¡¯ His hand tightened on Janu¡¯s ¨C he must have forgotten he was holding it, but Janu couldn¡¯t wriggle free.

    ¡®I¡¯ll go upstairs,¡¯ Popilia said. ¡®You leave however you got in, and leave getting Izimendalla out to me.¡¯

    ¡®You¡¯ll have a hard time convincing them.¡¯ Another glance towards the dragon. ¡®Can you be confident he won¡¯t just attack whoever he finds up there?¡¯

    ¡®If this ritual works, they¡¯ll have other dragons to worry about.¡¯

    Just then, Nazagin poked her nose into Popilia¡¯s shoulder and the two exchanged a glance. Then the hatchling said, ¡®Anshar was able to disguise himself as a human to enter the palace with us. If Izimendalla can do the same ¨C and I think he can, easily, with the right ingredients ¨C he can just walk out. No one will need to drain any lakes.¡¯

    Galnai¡¯s gaze flicked around the group. ¡®So we¡¯re done here.¡¯

    Ilarion nodded. ¡®We¡¯ve done our job. We should get out of here and go back to Kimah-Kur.¡¯ He glanced at the dragon again. ¡®But if this ritual doesn¡¯t work, they¡¯ll still need the horn. If Izimendalla can¡¯t come with us as soon as he¡¯s done, will he let us take it?¡¯

    ¡®It¡¯s safer with you than in here,¡¯ said Nazagin. ¡®I don¡¯t think he would object.¡¯

    The ritual peaked, loud enough that the little stones beside Janu¡¯s head hopped and bounced along the floor, sometimes floating and moving in strange patterns where they met the current of the swirling wind. He found it difficult to concentrate on the others¡¯ conversation, almost drowned out as it was. He just laughed at the strain on their faces as they struggled to hear and be heard.

    Then the world tilted strangely, the floor turning into the ceiling, his blood rushing to his head, his limbs dangling in the air. Well, most of his limbs. One arm remained in a reddish patch on the floor, bobbing further and further away with each moment.

    Janu reached out to it, finding his right hand finally free of Ilarion¡¯s grip. ¡®My arm!¡¯ he said. ¡®You¡¯ve left my arm on the floor. Hey!¡¯ He flailed his arm around and managed to hit someone in the side, but no one replied. Maybe they grunted. He couldn¡¯t tell. After a couple more hits he found his arm pinned and, try as he might, he couldn¡¯t free it.

    The chanting diminished, letting several footsteps and the rhythmic swish of fabric become more noticeable. They acted almost like a lullaby ¨C Janu struggled to keep his eyes open, and every time he blinked they had turned some fresh corner away from the cavern. He caught fragments of an exchange between Ilarion and Divya, enough to know it was about him but nothing of real substance.

    At length, the roar of water almost entirely covered Izimendalla¡¯s voice, and it set Janu¡¯s head into a spin. Little drops of it struck him all over. He couldn¡¯t tell which way he was facing anymore ¨C up or down, towards the water or away from it. He couldn¡¯t feel anyone¡¯s hands on him anymore either, and a moment later he felt nothing but water all around. He settled into it as he would into a comfortable bed, as if he had always belonged there and never wanted to leave.

    A great current pressed against him, pulsing into the main body of water up ahead, but it didn¡¯t deter him. He laughed, though no sound came out, and gave a little shimmy like a drakfish leaping a rapid. In one burst, he speared through the current, water slipping around his form with no resistance, and emerged into some vast and empty depth.

    He would have quite happily hovered there for some time, rocked and cocooned by the water, but someone hauled him up by his arms. He emerged from the surface, spluttering, air unwelcome on his tongue, and opened his eyes.

    The sky was full of dragons ¨C dozens of them, wheeling and diving with no semblance of order. Some attacked figures on the ground or the walls of the palace, claws outstretched, teeth bared. Others rolled upside-down in flight and tried to cut the straps of the harnesses they wore.

    A few, soaring higher than the rest, seemed to fly only for the sake of flying. They made grand loops into the rosy dawn clouds and back, the rising sun glinting from their barding and filling their bright-coloured feathers with warmth.

    The empire¡¯s dragons were free, for the first time in decades, for the first time in most of their lives.

    Something trickled down Janu¡¯s cheek. Whether lake water or a tear, he didn¡¯t know, but he looked up at those bright dragons and smiled nonetheless.

 33. A New Order

    When Anshar had worked his magic, it had been a mesmerising experience, made terrifying only by Critobulus¡¯ interference in the first attempt to break the bonds of dragonkind. Izimendalla¡¯s magic was different. Popilia and Nazagin huddled by the cavern¡¯s entrance after the thieves left, weathering the angry might that Izimendalla poured forth. The sheer sense of it triggered something primal in the core of their minds. They resisted every urge to flee.

    We should go, Nazagin told her, her nerves still jangling along their shared bond at the shared sensation of Critobulus¡¯ final moments.

    Popilia kept her eyes fixed on Izimendalla. His blood glowed where it coated the end of the horn, a bright, furious crimson. Streamers of it whipped unnaturally in the wind. She far preferred Anshar¡¯s bloodless, natural magic to this. But perhaps this would work. After everything, she wanted to see it through to the end. Nazagin sensed as much, and her mood shifted to something gentler.

    If they find us here, with him, there will be questions, said Nazagin.

    There will be questions anyway. Popilia thought of all the things she needed to ask her parents. She couldn¡¯t just ask those out of thin air. They would know the questions had come from somewhere outside the palace.

    Then let us get them over with. We may even buy Izimendalla some time.

    As if Izimendalla needed protecting, now that Critobulus¡¯ hold over him was gone. Anshar may have died to imperial spears, but Izimendalla was so massive that Popilia couldn¡¯t imagine the same felling him.

    She nodded and, without a word to the chanting elder dragon, left the dim cavern behind. They were halfway down the first stretch of corridor when Popilia stopped, suddenly remembering the siren fruit. Horror rooted her to the spot and made Nazagin shudder against her side.

    We can¡¯t do anything about it. Nazagin was insistent, mentally nudging at Popilia to move on. If he keeps himself together through the ritual, that is enough. Kimah-Kur may be able to help him after that.

    Except Kimah-Kur was miles away and Izimendalla would be stuck underground if he couldn¡¯t stay sane enough to become human. But Nazagin was right ¨C they couldn¡¯t change that. So Popilia walked on, trying to push the thoughts of a great siren tree growing through the floor of the imperial palace out of her head. Her imagination echoed with the sound of Izimendalla roaring in pain, trapped and eaten from within. Then at some point, silence, and a tree they would have to burn if they didn¡¯t want to evacuate half the city.

    They picked their way back through the room with all the shelves and ingredients. She would have to convince her parents to let her ferry ingredients to Izimendalla, she knew. He wouldn¡¯t fit down here himself.

    She swallowed, her tongue dry and rasping in her mouth. The cynical part of her, having grown in strength since her abduction, gradually filled her belly with fear. She wasn¡¯t the eldest of her siblings. She had enough of those that really, if her parents took offence to her demands, it wouldn¡¯t hurt them to put her under house arrest and forget about her. She didn¡¯t matter. That was the truth of it. When she had been kidnapped, that bounty had just been saving face in the public eye. Behind closed doors, they didn¡¯t need to worry about appearances.

    And some day, they would ship her across the ocean to Khunuchan anyway.

    Just worry about today, Nazagin told her, taking the lead along the last stretch of corridor. Dye still swirled in patterns over her chalky feathers, but the edges were smudged and blurred in places. Her tail flicked from side to side as she walked, like a stalking cat¡¯s.

    Soon enough they came to the abandoned barracks ¨C still abandoned, despite all the noise Izimendalla had made. Somewhere far above, a bell tolled. With each step Popilia took to the next level, the noise of the palace grew closer: hurrying footsteps, shouting, the clattering of stock being moved in the armoury. She had spent enough time living here to know that wasn¡¯t normal. There was always movement, yes, but organised, predictable. This was more like a disturbed ants¡¯ nest.

    Without another word between them, princess and hatchling took the steps two at a time. They didn¡¯t stop when they emerged in the prison, and not a single guard remained to stop them. When they emerged onto the wide corridor that ran alongside the kitchens, they almost couldn¡¯t move for servants. It seemed the whole palace staff had come down here. Cooks, laundry maids, gardeners, stable hands and runners all milled about, their voices forming a constant buzz. Every now and then one would glance up, fear written on their face.

    They had come down here to hide.

    A chill gripped Popilia¡¯s spine. Nazagin was making good headway through the crowd, servants moving out of her way with cries and yelps as soon as they noticed her. Popilia knew the way to the stairs and because she knew, Nazagin knew. Neither of them missed the whispers that followed in their wake ¨C the ones about mad dragons, that maybe they should call the guards, and was that one of the princesses going up there?

    They had just reached the foot of the stairs when a roar echoed down from above. In the corner of her eye, the whole crowd flinched as one.

    Mad dragons. Had Izimendalla¡¯s blood-fuelled ritual gone horribly wrong? Popilia felt like lead weighted her legs as she took the stairs. Then instead of making her feel safe, the close confines of the servants¡¯ corridor trapped her. She hurried along, trying to find an exit that led to the palace proper. All the while, roars and shouts came loud if muffled through the wall.

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    At last, she found a door leading into one of the royal chambers. She didn¡¯t recognise this one ¨C it wasn¡¯t hers, that was for sure ¨C but the basic layout was the same. She hurried with Nazagin to the semi-open colonnade where her family would breakfast. The tables and chairs had been hastily moved to one side and guards stood by the columns, faces drawn, spears clutched tight in their hands.

    ¡®Princess?¡¯ One of the guards spotted her and stared, wide-eyed. ¡®You shouldn¡¯t be up here.¡¯

    ¡®Where else should I be?¡¯ She shouldered her way through the nearest guards, easy enough at her height, and found herself with a clear view of the inner courtyard and the sky above it. Someone grabbed her shoulder to stop her going any further, but she would have stopped anyway.

    Above them, a chaotic mass of dragons whirled and soared, decked in the livery of the dragon guard without any of the guard¡¯s usual order. One of the riders had ridden his last, and lay in the garden in a broken heap amidst the remains of what once had been an lute-playing automaton.

    Popilia dragged her eyes away from the bloody tangle. Nazagin still stared at the skies above, her eyes tracing the movements of the airborne dragons. A yearning to join them saturated their bond, and Popilia felt an ache behind her shoulder blades from wings she did not have.

    Their bonds are like ours, now, Nazagin told her. At first it wasn¡¯t clear how she knew, but then Popilia understood through the memories of what she had seen ¨C every time a dragon or their rider was injured, the other would react as if with the same pain. More than that ¡ª most dragons targeted not their riders, but those of other dragons, or sometimes humans on the ground below. Those were not forbidden. They did not hurt.

    And yet... We need to stop this. Popilia made the thought firm. The fighting had to stop. The retaliation could move no further, no matter how deserved. Every moment of destruction would make their task more difficult. How do we stop this?

    Let me try. The essence of Anshar stirred within Nazagin again, not taking over, just feeding information. That sense of seen-yet-unseen magic threaded delicately around her, making the hair on the back of Popilia¡¯s neck stand on end.

    When Nazagin spoke, it was with a voice that filled the space around them and echoed from nearby buildings. She used the dragon tongue, projecting her melody up into the heavens.

    Popilia didn¡¯t understand the language. Not yet. Every new word unravelled her understanding a little more. Still, she got a feel for it from Nazagin. She urged peace, spoke of Anshar¡¯s sacrifice, called for an urgent message to go to Kimah-Kur. Dragonkind had to know what had happened here, if their shamans hadn¡¯t sensed the change already.

    For a long while nothing happened above them. Several guards stepped back from Nazagin and levelled their spears, but Popilia stepped in the way. She was just opening her mouth to explain when, with great rushes of air like sheets being aired out, the dragons landed. They settled on rooves and thin-topped minarets, in tree limbs and on the ground beyond the inner courtyard walls. Most ¨C those who had taken perches ¨C were still young, just large enough to carry a rider in comfort.

    Silence settled with them. Popilia breathed out a sigh of relief. The guards made no move on her or Nazagin, too confused to act. Their eyes darted this way and that, taking in their giant new neighbours.

    ¡®You.¡¯ Popilia singled out the guard next to her. ¡®Are my parents still in the throne room?¡¯

    The guard hesitated and stared past her, at Nazagin, blank faced. When Popilia waved her hand in front of his face, he started stammering something, but a more senior guard behind him interrupted.

    ¡®They took refuge in the hatchery, your grace,¡¯ he said. ¡®Had you aimed to join them?¡¯

    ¡®Yes. Thank you.¡¯ Since the hatchery was directly beneath the throne room, she moved towards it, but the guard took a step to head her off.

    ¡®I can¡¯t let you in with that thing, your grace.¡¯ His gaze flicked towards Nazagin, whose anger lit a kindred spark in Popilia.

    The princess drew herself upright. ¡®You can. And you will.¡¯ She let her gaze drift around her little circle of guards. ¡®Did none of you see what just happened? My dragon¡¯ ¨C she had to force herself to say those words instead of her name ¨C ¡®is the only reason the skies are empty now. She spoke to her kin and they listened.¡¯ Now Popilia just had to do the same with hers.

    ¡®But dragons can¡¯t speak,¡¯ said a nearby guard.

    Popilia glared at him. ¡®You have ears. You just heard her. You don¡¯t know the language, but you must recognise words when you hear them, surely?¡¯ Without waiting for a response, she added, ¡®You¡¯ve just never been around a dragon that¡¯s allowed to speak before. But they¡¯re not slaves anymore.¡¯

    Every face around her held the same look of quiet and confused alarm. Either this was too new for them or they just couldn¡¯t process hearing it from a little princess. She rankled at the thought of the latter.

    In any case, they were too confused to stop her when she set off towards the throne room again. Only the guard who had stopped her before made a second attempt, but she shoved at his spear and he stepped back, blinking. That left the way to the building in the centre of the inner gardens clear.

    Popilia picked her way across the grass, around the strewn parts of dragon rider and automatons, towards the small side door set into the wide eastern minaret. It opened at a gentle push. She wasn¡¯t sure why that surprised her. Why lock and bar the door when the enemies were dragons, too big to fit? She doubted the roof would keep them out if they really wanted to get in here. But for now, they didn¡¯t. Popilia did, and Nazagin was small enough to follow.

    Light slanted down from thin windows as she crossed the inside of the minaret, falling upon rich carpets that muffled her steps. A latticed divider broke her view of the throne room ahead. When she rounded it, it was to find the great expanse of the throne room empty. A bright shaft of light picked out the thrones themselves, as if emphasising their owners¡¯ absence. The floor was warm, heated by the hatchery below.

    It felt like so long since she had last stood here, and she had so rarely seen it empty. She shivered, her tongue suddenly dry in her mouth, a sense of unease crawling up her neck.

    Nazagin eyed her curiously and nudged her with her snout. What are you scared of?

    Her parents¡¯ shadows sat on those thrones. It was them darkening her thoughts. The light would not dispel them.

    Popilia closed her eyes, drew a deep breath and told a lie to both of them: Nothing. I¡¯m not scared.

    Then let us go.

    So they did, without any more hesitation, and as they strode towards the stairs to the hatchery at the back of the room, the shadow of the thrones passed them by.

 34. Pardon Us

    Nazagin¡¯s egg hadn¡¯t come from the imperial hatchery, hence why Popilia had had to travel so far for her hatching. The small number of eggs she caught sight of when she reached the bottom of the stairs, each nestled in individual heated alcoves, were reserved almost exclusively for the dragon guard. Wild-born dragons were more prestigious. Popilia vaguely recalled someone telling her that dragons bred in captivity came out smaller and weaker, too.

    It any case, it struck her as an ignoble place to find her parents. She picked them out at the far side of the room, sheltering in an archway. Two of her brothers stood alongside them ¨C her second eldest off to one side trying to appear confident, the youngest held in the crook of their mother¡¯s arm.

    ¡®Popilia?¡¯ Her mother looked up at the sound of her approach, a lock of unkempt hair sliding over her cheek. But for that, her parents were much as she had seen them earlier. Only their faces were paler, more drawn, their eyes startled wide with the shock of the unfamiliar.

    ¡®It¡¯s so good to see you,¡¯ her mother continued. ¡®We had worried...¡¯

    Her father took a step forwards, his jaw set and eyes flashing in a way that sent a spike of panic through Popilia. She hesitated mid step.

    ¡®You can¡¯t bring your dragon in here, daughter,¡¯ he said. ¡®Take that thing out of here.¡¯

    He had drawn his sword. It nestled there in his hand like a shard of light, eager to flash into motion. She hadn¡¯t even seen him draw it.

    ¡®She won¡¯t hurt you,¡¯ Popilia said, and swallowed with some difficulty. ¡®And she won¡¯t be going anywhere.¡¯

    ¡®Don¡¯t be absurd.¡¯ He stepped forwards. The blade lost the light, darkening, seeming to drink in the shadows. ¡®This is no time to try proving yourself, daughter. The bonds between dragon and rider are broken. You cannot control her. You should count yourself lucky she hasn¡¯t already turned on you. We thought she had ¨C we sent out your tutor and the guards, but they couldn¡¯t find you.¡¯

    Nazagin bared her teeth and flexed her wings. ¡®You should count yourself lucky that I can¡¯t breathe fire, your grace.¡¯

    ¡®Imperial highness,¡¯ Popilia corrected out of habit, then grimaced at the hatchling. ¡®Sorry.¡¯ She turned back to her father. ¡®You¡¯ve misread the situation. Didn¡¯t you feel it, when it happened?¡¯ She had no idea where his dragon was, whether it had been nearby, if it had tried to kill him and been killed in return or just flown away. ¡®The bond isn¡¯t broken, just changed.¡¯

    ¡®A thing that does not work is broken.¡¯ He gestured up with the point of his sword. ¡®The dragons can choose to kill us. That goes against the point of the bond.¡¯

    ¡®You say "choose".¡¯ Popilia took her own step forwards, shoes crunching lightly over scattered rushes. ¡®So you know the dragons are capable of choice. You weren¡¯t surprised when Nazagin spoke just now, either. So you¡¯ve known all along: the dragons are just as smart as we are.¡¯

    Her father sighed, and the sound grated at her nerves like a rusty saw.

    ¡®Where are you going with this, Popilia?¡¯ he said. ¡®We live as we do now because of the dragons. We united the kingdoms because we were the first to tame them. You must understand the logistics of this ¨C if we didn¡¯t use them, someone else would.¡¯

    ¡®Did you never even consider talking to them first? What do we do when we find a new kingdom? We don¡¯t make them enemies, but allies ¨C isn¡¯t that what you¡¯re marrying me off to Khunuchan for?¡¯ Not that her family could exactly marry anyone off to a dragon, but the basic concept of diplomacy still applied. ¡®You didn¡¯t even try. You just made slaves of them.¡¯

    A muscle in her father¡¯s jaw twitched. ¡®Kingdoms are part of civilisation, Popilia. Human civilisation. We deal with them because we know they follow the same fundamental patterns as we do ourselves. There is no common ground between human and dragon, no point in diplomacy.¡¯

    ¡®Of course there is.¡¯ Nothing he was saying made sense. She could tell from the tightness in his shoulders, the indignance in his eyes ¨C he was just pulling excuses out of thin air.

    She hesitated before her next words, but a gentle nudge from Nazagin set her into motion. ¡®If you don¡¯t see any common ground, it¡¯s because you didn¡¯t look for it. I found it.¡¯ Or she was shown it, anyway ¨C she hadn¡¯t exactly gone looking. ¡®My kidnappers took me to the dragons. They treated me well. They seemed well enough part of civilisation to me. You shouldn¡¯t have¡ª¡¯

    ¡®Stupid girl!¡¯ her father snapped, his teeth bared.

    Popilia did her best to keep her composure, even when he stabbed the air in front of him with his sword.

    ¡®Ungrateful welp!¡¯ he said. ¡®What lies have those creatures put in your head?¡¯ The tip of his sword danced towards Nazagin. ¡®What lies does it feed to you even now?¡¯

    ¡®No lies.¡¯ She couldn¡¯t help her voice shaking. ¡®You know how the bond works. There are no lies within it, even now. Especially now.¡¯

    ¡®And what have they bid you do here, eh? Did you do all this? Do you know how many good men they have killed?¡¯

    ¡®If you listen, you¡¯ll realise you don¡¯t hear fighting anymore.¡¯ They must have been able to hear it all down here, only one floor from the surface. ¡®That¡¯s what we did. We asked them to stop, and they did. I wish we could have asked sooner. But they were fighting out of anger and revenge.¡¯ Izimendalla¡¯s rage still lingered at the back of her mind. ¡®Some of them have spent their lives with no free will because of what you let Critobulus do to them.¡¯

    ¡®And you expect me to be grateful for this?¡¯

    ¡®No.¡¯ She didn¡¯t know what she had expected, and she didn¡¯t care what he thought. Or so she told herself. And in the wake of the bravado she dredged up, she had to stop herself saying as much out loud.

    She took a deep breath and continued. ¡®Things need to change. You don¡¯t have much choice, now.¡¯

    ¡®Don¡¯t I? Critobulus can rework his magic.¡¯

    Nazagin cocked her head. ¡®Critobulus is dead. He was killed by the dragon he had chained up beneath our feet for decades. Izimendalla felt every moment of his death through the bond, but that wasn¡¯t enough to stop him. Can you blame him?¡¯

    Remembering an old family tale, Popilia added, ¡®Grandfather killed all his captors the moment he escaped the Satharathi dungeons, and hunted down those he couldn¡¯t for the rest of his days. This is no different.¡¯

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    Her father drew back as if the mention of his father in the same context as the dragons was a deathly affront. But before he could launch into another sentence, her mother detached herself from her brother and hurried forwards. Laying one hand on his sword arm, she guided it down towards the floor.

    ¡®Hear her out, dear,¡¯ she said. Her gaze flicked towards Popilia, but she didn¡¯t smile. ¡®See what options they want her to present to us.¡¯

    ¡®Hear her out?¡¯ He let his sword hang loose and turned to face her mother, gesturing to Popilia as he did. ¡®She should be in irons for her involvement in all this.¡¯

    ¡®They¡¯ve just wormed her way into her ear, my love. Perhaps we all would have been manipulated so at her age, no less in awe of speaking dragons. If we had only taught her all we knew of them, she might have been prepared not to be enchanted so.¡¯

    ¡®Age might excuse naivety, but not betrayal.¡¯

    ¡®But¡ª¡¯

    ¡®I have said my piece!¡¯ he snapped. ¡®There is nothing more to¡ª¡¯

    Someone clattered down the stairs and a guard emerged, slightly short of breath. He gulped in a lungful of air, eyes darting left and right as he took in the scene, then said, ¡®Your imperial highnesses. Your graces.¡¯ He bowed to each group of them in turn. ¡®An... ambassador?... has arrived and wishes to speak with you.¡¯

    Her father raised his hands in a shrug. ¡®Well? Are they an ambassador or aren¡¯t they?¡¯

    ¡®They are... a dragon, your imperial highness. They wish to discuss terms. The captain of the dragon guard is with them also, returned from the mountains you sent him to.¡¯

    The glare that came Popilia¡¯s way could have rivalled Izimendalla¡¯s fire breath. Her mother¡¯s knuckles whitened where she gripped her father¡¯s arm.

    ¡®And you sent them on their way, yes?¡¯ he asked the guard.

    ¡®Well... no, your imperial highness. The dragon guard don¡¯t have dragons anymore. They¡¯re not attacking us ¨C it would be madness to strike out. Respectfully.¡¯

    Again, the muscle of her father¡¯s jaw twitched. This time, however, he said nothing. After a moment he sheathed his sword and wrested his arm free of her mother¡¯s grip.

    Then he jerked his chin towards the guard. ¡®Take me to them. You come with me, daughter, but keep your mouth shut unless I tell you otherwise. Your existing... acquaintance with these beasts may yet prove some advantage.¡¯

    Popilia felt an odd mix of relief and anxiety bounce around in her chest. She wanted more than anything to keep arguing her case, but she knew there was no use. Instead, she followed her father as he took the stairs two at a time behind the guard, his robes lashing out around his ankles.

    I can eat him, if you want. Humour coloured Nazagin¡¯s thoughts, but there was a dark undercurrent to it that Popilia was almost afraid to acknowledge.

    She eyed her father, on the verge of considering Nazagin¡¯s offer, but she shied away at the last moment. Even if she had wanted it, actually following through would consign the both of them to a swift death. Nazagin wasn¡¯t exactly big enough to fight their way out of here. She couldn¡¯t even fly yet. Just thinking that fact made Nazagin grumble with annoyance. But even she had to acknowledge Popilia was right.

    The guard took them back up to the throne room and outside. Over the roof of the inner courtyard, between the small dragons that had come to roost there, the great white head of Ushuene-amaak waited between the four garden minarets. She watched them come, barely moving, her purple eyes glinting in the light. The palace had become her amphitheatre, the newly freed dragons her audience, Popilia¡¯s father her sport.

    The roosting dragons watched, too. Their gazes followed them through the archway to the outer gardens, and Popilia felt them on her back still when they emerged on the other side. Her father paid them little attention and just kept his steady stride. The guard, however, had his shoulders pulled tight to his ears and kept looking this way and that, as if expecting one of the dragons to swoop down and attack at any moment.

    From Nazagin flooded a fierce swell of pride, tinged with awe. Popilia recognised it ¨C the same feelings she had harboured about her own parents, not so long ago. She had surprised herself. Coming here, she thought she would have succumbed to the same feeling again, but it had never reappeared. The awe of a dragon was not so easily matched... or perhaps uncovering all their lies had been enough to put a stop to it.

    Ushuene dipped her head a scant couple of metres. The horns that formed her natural crown shone in the light, and the downy feathers of her head formed a bright halo at the edges.

    ¡®Greetings, Emperor,¡¯ she said. Popilia wondered if her voice was loud enough to reach anyone watching on the lakeshore. ¡®Would that the circumstances of our first meeting had begun more amicably. Alas, previous attempts at communication met with little success, and no little aggression.¡¯

    Her father stopped before the trunk of a tree that had fallen across the path. Its young blossoms had scattered across the floor at the impact, and the wind sent them jumping around his ankles. His left hand rested on the pommel of his sword, his right on his hip.

    ¡®And who might I have the pleasure of greeting?¡¯ he asked, his voice dry and tight with irritation. No doubt he didn¡¯t like having to look up to one he considered his inferior.

    ¡®I am Ushuene-amaak, eldest of the dragons, lived of over a thousand years, bearer of two other souls¡¯ long lifetimes. I cannot claim that all dragons will follow or agree with me, but they trust me to speak for them in this moment. So let us speak of how we may go on from here, Emperor. There is much to make amends for, many norms that must need fade for us to find peace.¡¯

    ¡®And my captain?¡¯ He nodded to another dragon sat further back in the courtyard, smaller than Ushuene but larger than most of the other dragons present. Fresh claw marks gouged its flank. By its left foreleg, the captain of the dragon guard stood straight-backed with his plumed helmet beneath his arm. ¡®Do you bring him here as a hostage in our negotiations?¡¯

    ¡®A hostage?¡¯ A deep, humming laugh rumbled from Ushuene¡¯s throat. ¡®Nothing of the sort.¡¯

    ¡®Your imperial highness,¡¯ the captain called out, bowing. Popilia had to strain to hear him. ¡®I simply flew here as escort. The dragons treated those of us who survived the battle well. Once I knew they were intent on diplomacy, well, I considered it my duty to the crown to bring their ambassador before you.¡¯ He bowed again to cap his sentence, and possibly to attempt calming a furious monarch.

    ¡®And how did your dragon not kill you as has happened here?¡¯

    The captain¡¯s next words came after a moment¡¯s hesitation. ¡®We came to an agreement. And I learned that he is no more my dragon than I am his human.¡¯

    Her father began to shake his head, then stopped himself, squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. ¡®Let me hear your proposal, then.¡¯

    Popilia eyed her father, unsure if he was taking this seriously or just humouring his unwanted guest. It seemed he had switched modes with that breath ¨C his irritation replaced with determination, his anger calmed, or redirected. This was the man who had formed an empire from warring kingdoms, who knew how to take any advantage he was given, how to weight the worth of any deal set before him.

    This was business now, not war.

    ¡®I am pleased to be heard,¡¯ Ushuene said, a light laugh behind her words ¨C as if anyone nearby could avoid hearing her. ¡®My proposals are fairly minimal, and easy enough to enact. First, there will be no more binding of dragons to humans unless both parties should consent to an equal bond. There will be no more dragon guard, I imagine, for no dragon will wish to serve in it. Should any decide otherwise, I will of course not stop them, but I doubt any hold such inclination. Second, any eggs in your possession will be handed over to our care. Third, we will have a representative in your court to speak for our interests and maintain a more civilised channel of communication than we have hitherto enjoyed. That is all.¡¯

    ¡®Fourth,¡¯ Popilia said, and startled herself a little in saying it. ¡®There is a dragon trapped beneath the palace. He was bound to Critobulus, and he has eaten a siren fruit. Promise you will help the dragons get him out of there.¡¯ To appeal to her father¡¯s self-preservation, she added, ¡®Before he grows through the floor. Oh, and the thieves who kidnapped me? The ones you had in prison? Pardon them. They were only helping do what was right. And I was helping, too.¡¯

    When her father turned, his composure slipped a fraction. For a moment she faced the full force of his stern glare. Then he turned back without acknowledging her words at all.

    ¡®This is a good starting point for negotiations... Ushuene-ammak,¡¯ he said. ¡®Let us see where we can go from here.¡¯

    And all around, the dragons and guards stood mute audience, waiting for whatever agreement would come.

 35. Reunions

    Janu was so weak and everyone else so tired that they struggled to make their way back across the lake. Divya, the most rested of all of them, had to near enough swim rings around them to keep the serpents at bay. Whenever Janu managed to keep his head fully above water for more than a moment, it was to the background rasp of her exhausted breath. Even Ilarion was flagging, and Galnai had her hands full dragging Janu.

    Just as he thought they were all going to drown there, barely a stone¡¯s throw from the walls of the palace, Janu spotted movement in the corner of his eye. He began to shout for Divya but stopped when he realised this wasn¡¯t another serpent, but a boat. It slid through the water towards them, punted along by a baby-faced palace servant.

    Two guards crouched at the bow of the boat.

    Instinctively, Janu tried to swim away, but his remaining arm just flailed in the water and his stump hit Galnai in the face. A wave of pain shot through him at the impact. Galnai swore, and Janu¡¯s vision went black for a moment.

    When he came to, the guards were looming over them, reaching out with both arms and suspiciously friendly expressions. Janu couldn¡¯t piece together their words until they were lifting him out of the water.

    ¡®¡ªgoing to hurt you,¡¯ said one in reassuring tones. ¡®You¡¯ve been pardoned.¡¯

    And the other muttered, ¡®But what if they¡¯s the ones got our lads killed down in the cave?¡¯

    The side of the boat scraped against Janu¡¯s back. He kicked out, not quite sure if he was still trying to get away or trying to help get himself into the boat. It didn¡¯t have either effect.

    ¡®That was dragons,¡¯ said the first guard.

    The boat balanced out for a moment as Galnai clambered over the other side of her own accord and the two guards passed Janu between them. They set him down in the bilge between benches.

    ¡®Heard it wasn¡¯t all dragons,¡¯ said the second. ¡®This lot were¡ª¡¯

    ¡®Look, we¡¯ve been told to pick them up, and we¡¯re paid to do what we¡¯re told. You have a problem with that, or do you want to sit around staring down dragons like everyone else?¡¯

    ¡®Well, no...¡¯

    ¡®Right then. So bottle it.¡¯

    Janu tried to make himself comfortable in the bottom of the rocking boat. Galnai had settled on the bench behind him ¨C her shin dug into his shoulder and the bench itself pressed into the back of his head. Only after a lot of shuffling did he manage to get into a better position. From there, he could take stock of their new situation.

    They were already punting back towards the palace, heading not for the pontoon by the main entrance, but a smaller one by the rear entrance nearer the throne room. A little glint on the wall told him the piece of glass Divya had enchanted to see for them was still there. A little to their right, Divya and Ilarion rested in a similar boat, delayed by the punter having to push a couple of serpents away.

    ¡®What have we missed?¡¯ Janu asked, realising only now that the swirl of dragons from earlier had stopped, and all of them had settled on whatever landing spot they could find. His vision swirled a little, as if the dragons¡¯ spirits were still up there, near invisible.

    ¡®Damned if I know,¡¯ said the kinder guard. ¡®All I saw was one second the dragons were throwing riders off their backs, the next they weren¡¯t. And a bloody great big one landed in the outer courtyard. It talked. I didn¡¯t catch all the words, but it talked. First time I¡¯ve ever heard a bloody dragon talk.¡¯

    The punt made periodic splashing noises, setting the odd quiet to a gentle rhythm. It was peaceful enough that Janu¡¯s eyelids grew heavy. He closed his eyes just for a moment, but must have drifted off, for the next moment with a thunk, their boat bumped against the side of the pontoon. Then he jolted wider awake when Galnai nudged him in the back of his head with her knee.

    ¡®Ow!¡¯ Wincing, he sat upright and rubbed his head. The pale stone of the palace walls was far too bright to his eyes, and he had to squint against the glare. The guards blocked it for a merciful second as they climbed out and turned to offer them a hand.

    Janu took hold of one of their hands and let them pull him up, staggering a little off balance. Beside him, Galnai hopped out without assistance.

    In the shadow of the carved colonnades, Janu¡¯s chest tightened. They only had the guards¡¯ words that they had pardons. Now, they had no reason to lie ¨C the thieves had hardly been in any state on the water to put up a fight ¨C but still... Not long ago, he had been imprisoned here. Ilarion had been tortured here. And now all that was forgotten?

    It was too good to be true, surely.

    ¡®This way,¡¯ said the guard, inclining his head for them to follow.

    ¡®Where will you take us?¡¯ Galnai asked.

    ¡®You¡¯re not in trouble. Really. But they said you needed medical help, and... well.¡¯ He gestured to the stump of Janu¡¯s arm, which Janu had to take care not to look at. ¡®It looks like you do.¡¯

    Ilarion limped over from where the other boat had moored, his shirt clinging from him and dripping onto the wood below. ¡®As long as your surgeon isn¡¯t the same man you had "tending" to us down in the prison.¡¯

    ¡®Old Hound?¡¯ The guard¡¯s lip curled. ¡®He was got by a dragon. Surprised it didn¡¯t spit him out again. You¡¯ll have someone proper seeing to you, don¡¯t worry.¡¯ And he gestured again to the path through the outer colonnade.

    Divya broke their inertia for them, following the guard without a moment¡¯s hesitation or trepidation. Janu couldn¡¯t fault her courage. No doubt she just wanted to go home. With her water magic, she probably could have zipped away before the guards could catch her. But she had stayed.

    The guards escorted them into the outer courtyard, which was at its narrowest here, barely a couple of dozen yards between the walls of the outer and inner courtyards. They didn¡¯t follow the wide path they had come in on ¨C a pardon didn¡¯t mean they could follow it straight into the inner courtyard and the throne room, clearly. Instead, they took a narrower path through the manicured gardens until they came to the corner of the wall. There they turned left, following the path of one of the streams that ran through the palace grounds.

    An eerie quiet still hung over the palace grounds. Beyond the babbling stream and a faint, inconstant hum of background chatter, only the occasional huff of dragon breath disturbed the peace. But for their size and those breaths, it would have been easy to forget the dragons were there altogether. As it was, they sat as mute sentinels, watching their progress.

    ¡®Through here,¡¯ the guard said, and led them across a delicate little bridge to a seating area in the outer colonnade.

    Janu peered over his shoulder as he followed and just caught a glimpse of a great white tail lying across the outer gardens around the corner of the inner courtyard wall. Then it was gone, and some new palace staff were guiding him to lie down on a cushioned stone couch. He complied, his clothes squelching with lake water. Galnai hovered opposite like a nervous dog, shaking off any attempts to look her over, redirecting people¡¯s attention to Janu and Ilarion.

    ¡®So,¡¯ Janu said, squinting up at the young man who had started to examine his wounds, ¡®your imperial medicine... Can it stick my arm back on?¡¯

    The man considered the question for much longer than Janu had expected for a joke. A worrying glint of curiosity took hold of his eyes. But then he shook his head. ¡®I might try if this were fresh.¡¯ And he muttered some gibberish about treatise and studies that Janu couldn¡¯t tell the start nor end of. He finished with, ¡®And you don¡¯t have the limb with you, in any case.¡¯ Which was, of course, the problem.

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    Then he poked and prodded at Janu¡¯s stump. With each movement, a wave of tingling shocks ran up Janu¡¯s shoulder and nausea rose to meet it. His head fuzzed. For a moment he couldn¡¯t parse anything in his vision. When he blinked groggily back into focus, the man had gone. Clouds had stolen away a good deal of daylight.

    Janu pushed himself half upright with his remaining arm. He felt heavier than usual. Someone had draped a blanket over him, but there was also a pleasant numbness pervading his body that made his movements a little sluggish.

    ¡®¡ªgood deal,¡¯ said Ilarion from nearby. ¡®If only it hadn¡¯t taken all that it did.¡¯

    The man reclined on another couch wearing a blanket in place of his shirt, his boots drying on the floor beside him, bandages peeking out from the top of fresh trousers. He had a healthier flush to his face than before, though it was still drawn. Galnai perched on the edge of the couch, chewing on a hunk of bread and cheese.

    Between Ilarion and Janu¡¯s two couches, Popilia had drawn up a small wooden stool and sat there, Nazagin¡¯s head on her lap, one hand scratching the downy feathers atop her head.

    Janu groaned the rest of the way upright and asked, ¡®What¡¯s a good deal?¡¯

    ¡®About time you stopped snoring.¡¯ Galnai huffed out a laugh. ¡®Deal¡¯s with the dragons. They¡¯re staying free.¡¯

    Looking about at the rest of the palace ¨C what little he could see of it from this vantage ¨C showed the dragons had all vanished from their perches.

    ¡®I¡¯m not sure anyone could have stopped them,¡¯ Janu said.

    ¡®Don¡¯t underestimate the imperial army.¡¯ Ilarion grimaced. In his service to the Khunuchanian prince, had he spied on the empire half as much as the dragons? ¡®They would have tried, and it would have been bloody enough for both sides. They wouldn¡¯t have got as far as they did, without any dragons of their own to begin with, if they couldn¡¯t hold their own against them.¡¯

    ¡®Even Anshar couldn¡¯t save himself,¡¯ said Popilia, sadness threading through her voice.

    Ilarion inclined his head. ¡®Critobulus was a piece of work. Most of this was his doing. Most, but not all.¡¯

    ¡®So what now, then?¡¯ Janu asked. ¡®We¡¯ve done everything we meant to do. It¡¯s all sorted. Can we just... go?¡¯ He glanced to his left, where the colonnade opened up onto the waters of the lake, only a short step down from floor level. The park around its edges seemed strangely empty, and he wondered if the guards had closed it down.

    Popilia nodded. ¡®A pardon¡¯s a pardon. You¡¯re all free to go, whenever you like.¡¯ She curled her lip. ¡®If it were up to me, I would let you stay for as many days as you liked, but my parents aren¡¯t exactly pleased with you.¡¯ She indicated the bread and cheese Galnai had. There was more on a table by the lake. ¡®The most I could do was get you one meal.¡¯

    His stomach clenched now the food had been pointed out, as if it had only been waiting for permission for hunger to strike. So Janu stood and made his way, teetering somewhat under the influence of whatever drug they had given him, to the selection of plates.

    As he picked through the spread, he glanced back to Popilia and raised an eyebrow. ¡®So, no chance we can collect on your bounty now you¡¯re back home safe, is there?¡¯

    The princess laughed, her teeth flashing. ¡®Hardly. I wouldn¡¯t recommend reminding my parents that you were the ones to kidnap me, after all. Besides, you didn¡¯t bring me back. If anyone should have received that bounty, it was Anshar.¡¯ On mentioning the dragon¡¯s name, her face fell. She shook her head sadly before asking, ¡®So what will you do? Ushuene still wants to pay you for your services, so you¡¯ll be home and rich.¡¯

    ¡®And without a line of work,¡¯ said Galnai. She brushed crumbs from her lap and shrugged at Ilarion¡¯s confused expression. ¡®What? We can¡¯t steal eggs from the empire if the empire isn¡¯t stealing eggs from dragons.¡¯

    ¡®You seem to be forgetting the "rich" part,¡¯ he said. ¡®You won¡¯t need to steal again, or work at all, I imagine. For my part, my work isn¡¯t over.¡¯ He sighed, and there was a hint of an unspoken question in the sidelong glance he gave Galnai. ¡®I have to return to Khunuchan and report to my prince. With all I have seen, with all I can relate to him... I hope he won¡¯t be as set on binding his own dragons now that the empire¡¯s bonds are broken. If he remains set on his course, I don¡¯t know I will be able to continue in his service. And he might not take kindly to my leaving.¡¯

    ¡®So just stay here.¡¯

    ¡®No.¡¯ He gave a firm shake of his head. ¡®Whether or not I gave my word, I need to report back. He will make his decisions without me, otherwise. He may have already started, if any other expeditions returned before mine. No, there are dragons in the wilderness back home, dragons he will try to tame if he finds a way. And I can show him a better way. I can reveal he only need speak to them, to treat with them as with any neighbour. With all I have seen, I have good cause to become an ambassador to such a neighbour.¡¯

    Janu remembered the thick book of notes Ilarion had compiled during his stay in Kimah Kur and said, ¡®You just want to keep studying them, don¡¯t you?¡¯

    He flashed a boyish smile. ¡®Is that a crime?¡¯ Then he shrugged as if to answer his own question. ¡®I miss it there, in any case. Milder weather and not a siren tree in sight. It¡¯s more home than home was.¡¯

    ¡®Home.¡¯ Janu chuckled and scratched at his beard. ¡®I have to get back and make sure I still have one. If the landlord has kept his word, I¡¯ll certainly have enough to pay him off. It¡¯ll be nice, to own it outright. We won¡¯t be so easily moved at some noble whim.¡¯ He knew that wasn¡¯t quite true, of course. The empire could happily change the rules of ownership, strip them of their land. But he suspected he was safe from that at least as long as he had a friend in the imperial household.

    ¡®Well, look at all you with your plans.¡¯ Galnai¡¯s mouth twisted into a rare smile. ¡®I¡¯ll just be glad to be out of this mess.¡¯

    ¡®What about that little cottage you were after?¡¯

    She shrugged, and Janu could have sworn her face reddened a fraction. ¡®Maybe some day, when I run out of other things to do. Might have a holiday first. Work out where I want to build it while I¡¯m travelling.¡¯ Then her expression hardened a little. She turned to Popilia. ¡®And you, princess ¨C are you still headed to Khunuchan?¡¯

    ¡®That¡¯s a long way off yet,¡¯ she replied, her voice quiet, her hand coming to a halt on Nazagin¡¯s head. ¡®I haven¡¯t spoken to my parents about it. Not yet. With luck, the betrothal will be broken anyway ¨C without eggs as dowry, what worth am I? I¡¯m sure they will try to think up something worse for me if that happens.¡¯

    ¡®If you like,¡¯ said Ilarion, ¡®I could try to help find you a more agreeable match. Someone closer in age, but still of good enough standing. I can¡¯t promise anything, but any proposal would only reach your parents after your approval.¡¯

    Popilia mulled the idea over for a few seconds, then said, ¡®I would appreciate that, thank you,¡¯ although the look on her face was still uncertain.

    Footsteps crunched along the gravel nearby. When Janu turned to look, he found an exceptionally tall woman with warm brown skin and flashing golden eyes striding towards them. Her hair was a fuzzy shock of white that drifted in the air like a halo.

    ¡®I am glad to see you well, friends,¡¯ she said with a smile on her lips and a familiar musicality in her voice. ¡®You may be pleased to know that we think we will be able to save Izimendalla. I have sent shamans down to work upon him ¨C they will try to cut the siren fruit out of his digestive tract. It would be too fine an operation on a human, but at his size, it should be possible.¡¯

    They all took on board her words with visible confusion. Janu¡¯s brow knit together as he tried to recall if he had forgotten some past ally in his drug haze. Only Popilia and Nazagin seemed nonplussed, if curious about the stranger¡¯s appearance.

    ¡®Do you plan to go down there yourself?¡¯ Nazagin asked.

    The woman perched on an unoccupied stool, stretching her legs out in front of her. ¡®When he is healed, I think I shall accompany him to the surface, yes. He may need help to know himself, and may not be able to fly once he returns to his own body. But for the time being, I have shunned mine simply for convenience. Too many were made nervous by my presence.¡¯

    At last, Janu made the connection between appearance and memory. A dragon in human form: Ushuene-amaak. In the change, she had kept something of her usual form, her regal bearing, her white-and-gold plumage. And the voice, too. Therein lay the most similarity. Slow understanding dawned on the others¡¯ faces, also. Or so he thought. Neither Ilarion nor Galnai questioned their new companion.

    ¡®Ushuene,¡¯ Popilia said, confirming his thoughts, ¡®I¡¯m sorry about Anshar. I should have found some way to stop them killing him.¡¯ A tremor crept into her voice. ¡®I should have¡ª¡¯

    ¡®There was nothing you could have done, child.¡¯ Ushuene stood again, the drapes of her white robes spilling along the floor, and walked to the edge of the lake. There she stood, framed by the pale stone of the marble arches, ripples of light playing over her skin where the water¡¯s reflections danced in the sun. ¡®Anshar made his choice, and his soul is not lost to us, remember. His memory and experience are in Nazagin¡¯s care, now, and it is her task to hold them to herself, as I hold to myself the two souls I was gifted. It was little enough price to pay for freedom, and one I imagine he would choose to pay again, would he not?¡¯

    Nazagin nodded at the questioning glance Ushuene gave over her shoulder, and the woman gave a satisfied smile.

    ¡®The path to this goal may not have been as any of us desired,¡¯ Ushuene continued, shifting her gaze between each of them in turn, ¡®but we cannot deny the ending. We are free. Free thanks to you, free thanks to Anshar, free thanks to Izimendalla. There is a long road ahead of us, to made the best of this freedom, to secure it for all our futures. But it is a road I and my kin will gladly travel.¡¯

    A serpent danced over the surface of the lake behind her, neck stretched as if to reach the sky, as if it too might grow wings and soar to its own freedom. And as Janu watched it, a great comfort settled over him. This was peace. This was closure. Whatever awaited him back home, he knew it would turn out okay, that he would be able to meet it fully.

    And yet, there were other dragons out there ¨C dragons hatched from eggs he had stolen, bound, he supposed, by sorcerers other than Critobulus. They would need freeing, too. Perhaps that was a job for younger folk with more arms to their name than he. Perhaps he still had adventures in him. Who could say?