Spark the Fire

by Melissa McShane

  This female’s very short hair showed off the curve of her skull, which Lamprophyre found intriguing and attractive. She also had a well-defined facial structure and large brown eyes that at the moment regarded Lamprophyre with as much curiosity as Lamprophyre felt.

  “Lamprophyre,” Rokshan said, “may I introduce Lady Tanura of Sachetan, your counterpart.”

  Lady Tanura bowed, a graceful, flowing motion Lamprophyre envied. “My lady,” she said, her voice high, like birdsong, “thank you for the invitation. I am most interested in meeting you.” She spoke with an accent unlike Rokshan’s, stretching out the vowels.

  “Thank you, my lady,” Lamprophyre said, returning the bow much more awkwardly. “Sachetan is south of Gonjiri, yes?”

  “It is. Far enough south that we do not abut upon dragon territory. But we would like to know your people better.” Lady Tanura nodded to Rokshan, who had vanished briefly and returned holding a glass of wine he offered to the ambassador. She sipped, and added, “I think you will find our people much less antagonistic than those of Gonjiri.”

  Lamprophyre heard her think that idiot Ekanath, wasting his chance, and said, “I’m afraid the people of Gonjiri were influenced by our first unfortunate interactions and some false old stories. The ones I’ve met who overcame those fears have been very nice.”

  “Sachetan does not have a tradition of wicked, terrifying dragons,” Lady Tanura said. “It’s unfortunate you can’t visit my country to see for yourself. I wonder, would your people be interested in an exchange of ambassadors?”

  “An exchange?” Lamprophyre hoped she hadn’t sounded too startled. “Ah, where dragons live isn’t very hospitable to humans. So probably not. But I’m sure if you were to approach Hyaloclast, she could make that decision.” It would almost certainly be “no,” but maybe if enough humans pestered the dragon queen, she’d grow tired of it and agree to negotiations.

  “Hyaloclast.”

  “She’s our queen. She’s the one who sent me to Gonjiri.”

  “Of course. She is also your mother?” Lady Tanura sipped her wine again.

  “She is, but that doesn’t really matter when it comes to politics.”

  “I see.” Lady Tanura’s thoughts remained placid, if calculating; too far away, but that’s a small thing and trade items, do dragons make things? “I understand dragons control the Parama Mountains, is that correct?”

  “That’s our home, yes.”

  “Have dragons found precious stones there? I’ve heard you eat stone.”

  Lamprophyre glanced at Rokshan. Was that public knowledge? She couldn’t remember who knew what anymore. Though it didn’t matter, did it, because it wasn’t as if that was a dangerous secret. “We do eat stone, and we’ve found deposits of minerals you humans find valuable, yes.”

  “Sachetan is famous for its garnet. We’d be interested in opening trade relations with dragons. Garnet for, well, it would depend on what you have. But I’m sure we could come to an arrangement.”

  Lamprophyre wished she didn’t feel like she was teetering on the edge of a precipice, her wings frozen and unable to take her to safety. Lady Tanura’s thoughts remained calm but curious, but there was an edge to them Lamprophyre didn’t like. Hyaloclast had specifically instructed her not to enter into any agreements, but did that mean concealing those instructions as well?

  “We would have to see,” she said. “At the moment, I’m just here to spread the word about dragons’ existence and learn more about human countries and customs. Hyaloclast would prefer not to interfere until we understand you better.” That sounded nice and noncommittal.

  “I see,” said Lady Tanura. “How interesting.” They’re hiding something, she thought. Lamprophyre’s heart sank.

  “Excuse me, Lady Tanura,” Rokshan said, “but my mother is here, and I’d like to introduce Lamprophyre to her.”

  “Of course.” Lady Tanura smiled and bowed. “I look forward to speaking with you again, my lady. Perhaps in a less public situation?”

  That sounded more ominous than Lady Tanura meant. Lamprophyre bowed and smiled without saying anything.

  “See? That wasn’t so bad,” Rokshan said once they were away from the Sachetan ambassador.

  “She thinks it’s suspicious that I won’t agree to trade,” Lamprophyre whispered. “I think I made a mistake.”

  “She’s an ambassador. They’re suspicious of everything. Don’t worry about it.” Rokshan came to a halt in front of the canopies. “Bow, and let her speak first,” he murmured.

  “What?” Lamprophyre said. Rokshan shook his head and bowed, so Lamprophyre did too, though she wasn’t sure whom she was bowing to. There didn’t appear to be anyone near enough to justify a bow.

  Beautiful creature, someone thought. Lamprophyre tried to hold her bow a little longer, wobbled, and stood rather than fall over. A group of females approached, five of them surrounding a much smaller female whose skin was unusually fair for a Gonjirian. That female wore a multicolored robe over the same kind of white clothing Rokshan wore, and her footwear exposed her blunt, bare toes. Her hair was arranged in an elaborate display of loops and curls atop her head, giving her the appearance of a flower in full bloom. She smiled as she drew near. “Rokshan, you didn’t say she was beautiful,” she said in a soft voice Lamprophyre had to strain to hear.

  “Mother, may I introduce Princess Lamprophyre, ambassador of the dragons,” Rokshan said, rising from his bow. “Lamprophyre, may I present you to her majesty Satiya, queen of Gonjiri.”

  “Your majesty,” Lamprophyre said, bowing again. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  Satiya said nothing, but walked closer and began to circle Lamprophyre, gazing at her steadily. “That notch seems designed for a human rider,” she said.

  Lamprophyre controlled her first response, which was to give the queen an angry set-down. “It’s just coincidence,” she said instead. “Though I’m sure humans and dragons used to take advantage of it all the time.”

  “Yes, the old stories. Anchala has been full of nothing else these last few months.” Satiya completed her circuit and came to a halt near Lamprophyre’s head. “Are all dragons as colorful as you?”

  “More or less.”

  “Well, it’s not as if you’d need to conceal yourself. I can’t imagine any creature capable of attacking you.” Satiya tilted her head like an inquisitive bird. “And you and my son are friends.”

  “We are.”

  “Astonishing. That a human and a dragon could have enough in common to become friends, I mean. But Rokshan has a gift for making friends, so perhaps it’s not so astonishing.”

  Lamprophyre looked at Rokshan, whose cheeks reddened. “It’s our differences that make us friends, I think,” she said. “We never run out of things to talk about, or to teach each other.”

  “That’s wonderful.” To Lamprophyre’s surprise, Satiya laid a hand on her forearm and drew close. “Watch out for him, will you?” she said in a voice pitched so low only Lamprophyre could hear it, and that with difficulty. “He’s still finding his place in the world, and I think you may be part of that.”

  “I…all right,” Lamprophyre said in the same low voice, though she was sure hers carried farther. Satiya smiled and patted Lamprophyre’s arm.

  “I’m so pleased to have met you,” she said. “I hope more dragons find their way to Tanajital. You are all very welcome here.” The queen’s thoughts echoed her words with such sincerity Lamprophyre stifled an impulse to say something sarcastic about the welcome she’d had.

  She watched the queen walk away, surrounded by her attendants, and said, “She’s very nice. I can see why you get along with her.”

  “Mother has always believed the best of me. I’m not sure why,” Rokshan said. “Come. Let’s see who else you can meet. My father’s not here, of course, but neither are Khadar or Tekentriya, so this might turn out to be a good event after all.”

  Three of her least favorite people, not attending. “I already f
eel more cheerful,” she said.

  Chapter Thirty

  Lamprophyre followed Rokshan back and forth between the canopies, watching humans eat those tiny morsels of food and drink wine. It was fascinating, actually, how they made food and drink part of the ritual. Dragons had no such traditions; they ate when they were hungry, and their gatherings for storytelling or art display or races were never diminished by the inclusion of food. But humans seemed to like it that way. She eavesdropped on their thoughts and learned most of them saw the food as a way to lessen tensions between themselves and other humans they were usually at odds with. Fascinating.

  She spoke with a number of other ambassadors and Gonjirian nobles, all of whom were wary of her, but not frightened. All the ambassadors wanted some kind of negotiation with dragons, and Lamprophyre’s tactful refusals strained nerves otherwise soothed by knowing they didn’t see her as a threat. After the fifth time she had to gently refuse a very reasonable suggestion, she was cursing Hyaloclast’s name and wishing the queen were here to manage things, if she was so hot on not building relations with humans.

  It took her several of these meetings to wonder when she would meet the Fanishkorite ambassador. But when she asked Rokshan about it, he shook his head. “Recalled,” he said in a low voice. “That means his king summoned him home. There’s no diplomatic contact between our countries right now—another reason to suspect they intend to come to war against us.”

  “Wouldn’t it make more sense for them to keep their ambassador here, to make you believe relations are more cordial than they are?”

  “Yes, and no. My understanding is that the ambassador’s withdrawal was the result of our ambassador to Fanishkor being recalled. All very polite, nothing anyone could take offense at, but it’s the first moves in anticipation of hostilities. I think, once we discovered how many spies they had in Tanajital, we couldn’t pretend any longer that things were normal.”

  “That’s more complicated than I think I can handle.”

  “Like I said, forthrightness is as much a weapon as duplicity,” Rokshan said. Lamprophyre hoped he was right.

  After nearly a thousand beats, she felt comfortable enough to leave Rokshan’s side and strike out on her own. Talking to people made her thirsty, and she wished she’d arranged for some cool, fresh water for herself rather than the nasty wine in those tiny glasses she couldn’t fit her mouth around. At one point, she reached the end of the canopies and took a moment to sit and look back over the display. From there, the background hum of many voices talking quietly mingled with the hum of many thoughts, a soothing effect. She checked the sky. Another thousand beats, and the event would be over. Nothing bad could happen in such a relatively short time.

  As if summoned by her thoughts, a trill of notes rang out over the gathering, causing the humans nearest Lamprophyre to turn and look at the far end of the park. Lamprophyre cursed herself for her optimism. Of course something bad could happen in that time. Something bad named Khadar. Why he’d decided to come, she had no idea, and she wished she’d insisted on not inviting him—but Rokshan had, with a grimace, said it would be unforgivably rude not to invite the High Ecclesiasts, and that included Khadar.

  The space between the canopies was crowded with people, so she made her way around them, following the sound of the music. There were paths through the park paved with tiny, round-edged stones, and Khadar and his entourage approached along one of them from the direction of the city. Instead of the green-curtained litter, Khadar sat on a chair painted gold—not real gold, Lamprophyre smelled—carried by the same four males who’d carried the litter before. This time, he wore a strange peaked hat on his short, dark hair, a hat whose green color matched his formal robe with all the pictures on it. None of the pictures were visible while he was sitting, but Lamprophyre remembered them well. She wished she could ask him if the pictures meant anything, but that was too civilized a conversation to expect out of the Fifth Ecclesiast.

  Lamprophyre found Rokshan under a green canopy, standing next to a female whose black hair cascaded past her waist unchecked. “What do I do?” Lamprophyre pleaded.

  “Don’t get close to him. There are a lot of flammable things around here. Sorry,” Rokshan said.

  “It would serve him right if you sneezed on him,” the female said. “He’s so full of himself it’s no wonder there’s no room for God.”

  Lamprophyre, startled at the female’s casual words, looked at her more closely. She wasn’t watching Lamprophyre; her attention was on the approaching procession. “I don’t think we’ve met,” she said.

  “I’m Anchala,” the female said, still not looking at Lamprophyre. “I was hoping we could talk, but it seems Khadar has made that impossible.”

  Anchala. Rokshan’s sister whom he did get along with. “Maybe later,” Lamprophyre said. “Once Khadar has done his worst.”

  Anchala laughed. It was a lovely sound not similar to her voice, which was rather rough, as if she’d been coughing. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  Rokshan said that unfamiliar, curt word whose meaning he refused to tell Lamprophyre. “I’m going to talk to him,” he said. “We should find out what he wants before he does something stupid.” He strode away in the direction of the procession. Lamprophyre settled on her haunches and strained to hear their thoughts. Anchala, right next to her, was easy: wonder if she has a mate, beautiful color, how many stories she must know. Rokshan wasn’t thinking anything coherent, but his irritation with his brother was clear. And Khadar’s thoughts were surprisingly not fearful. If anything, Khadar was filled with self-righteous indignation and the words bring the creature to the knowledge of the true God.

  Lamprophyre groaned inwardly. So Khadar wanted to convert her. That was a conversation that could not end well for either of them.

  Rokshan had reached the procession, which came to a halt as if he’d been the size of Lamprophyre instead of a slightly taller than average Gonjirian male. Khadar’s thoughts became too agitated for her to hear clearly, though his anger at being confronted by Rokshan was very clear.

  “Can you hear them?” Anchala asked.

  Lamprophyre shook her head. “They’re too far away.”

  “I meant their thoughts,” Anchala said.

  Lamprophyre jerked, startled. “How—why would you—”

  “I’ve made a thorough study of our oldest records,” Anchala said. “None of them come out and say dragons can hear thoughts, but the implications are clear. It’s true, isn’t it?”

  Lamprophyre decided she didn’t want to lie to the only one of Rokshan’s siblings he liked. “It is. But I’d rather no one knew.”

  “Yes, that would be quite the advantage.” Anchala stopped speaking again, but she was thinking you don’t need to be afraid of me, I won’t tell. Feeling awkward, Lamprophyre blocked her thoughts. Somehow it felt like more of an intrusion when the person knew you could listen in.

  With Anchala’s thoughts blocked, Lamprophyre couldn’t listen to Rokshan and Khadar either, but it didn’t matter, because the procession had resumed its steady pace toward the canopies. Rokshan walked beside Khadar’s chair. His face was set and angry, and Lamprophyre didn’t need to hear what he was thinking. Khadar’s expression was unfamiliar to Lamprophyre, though she’d become better at interpreting human facial expressions. She guessed, though, that he still felt that horrible self-righteousness.

  Carefully sniffing the air, she walked toward the procession. If she were going to set anything on fire, better it be well away from her guests. But Khadar didn’t stink of flowers on fire this time, just soap, as if he’d scrubbed well before arriving. Maybe she was wrong about him not fearing her.

  “My lady ambassador,” Khadar said before Lamprophyre could speak, “thank you for the invitation. May Jiwanyil’s grace fall upon all in attendance here.”

  “Jiwanyil’s grace,” came the murmur from behind Lamprophyre as the humans repeated Khadar’s words, somewhat raggedly as the sound reac
hed those who were farther away.

  “Thank you for coming, Khadar,” Lamprophyre said. “I’m glad we have no hard feelings over the accident.”

  Khadar’s bearers set the chair down, and Khadar stood. “You should address me as ‘your Holiness,’” he said. “It’s all right, I know you weren’t to know.”

  Lamprophyre glanced at Rokshan, who gave the tiniest nod of assent. So it wasn’t a lie, meant to throw her off balance. “Thank you for the correction, your Holiness,” she said, though she didn’t bow. “Is that how all ecclesiasts are addressed, or just you?”

  “All ecclesiasts except the Archprelate, who is addressed as Most Holy One,” Khadar said. “But you aren’t likely to meet him. He lives a life of pure simplicity, isolated from the crudity and darkness of this world.”

  Lamprophyre thought this was a bad way for someone supposedly responsible for the spiritual well-being of an entire country to live, isolating himself so he didn’t know anything about the people, but it was none of her business. “I’ll remember that, your Holiness,” she said. “I remember you said you don’t eat food unless it’s been specially prepared, but please join the gathering.”

  “Actually, I came only to speak with you,” Khadar said with a smile. “I have been troubled ever since our first encounter. You seem terribly misinformed about the nature of God, and I feel it’s my duty to instruct you.”

  “This isn’t the time, Khadar,” Rokshan said. “If you want an interview with the ambassador, you can come to the embassy.”