Spark the Fire

by Melissa McShane

  That was more accurate than Lamprophyre felt comfortable with. “I would never say that.”

  “You don’t have to.” Hyaloclast fixed her with a bloody gaze that increased Lamprophyre’s discomfort. “I’ve never liked how prone you are to comparing yourself to others,” she went on. “Particularly since those comparisons are usually your weaknesses against someone else’s strengths. You think I enjoy watching my daughter pitting herself against that wretch Coquina? Whose only positive features are beauty and a turn of speed? You are far superior to her, and yet you insist on holding her up as a standard you ought to aim for. That disappoints me.”

  Lamprophyre almost forgot to maintain altitude. “But…you never said…”

  “I don’t believe in coddling anyone, least of all my own child. You would never learn to fly unaided if I hovered beside you all the time. I wouldn’t have mentioned this now if you hadn’t just shown me how much you’ve grown in the last few twelvedays. You don’t need to prove yourself to anyone but you, Lamprophyre. Not even me.”

  “Oh,” Lamprophyre said. “But I wanted…” She swallowed. “I think your respect is worth having.”

  “That’s an honor I’m not sure I deserve,” Hyaloclast said. “But I appreciate it. And I am proud of what you’ve accomplished. Now—get back to that human city and warn them I’m coming. I had better not be shot at.”

  Lamprophyre smiled. “As if you’d feel it.”

  “It’s so undignified. Go on. Get.”

  Lamprophyre plummeted to the ground and gave Rokshan a leg up. “You ready for a night flight?” she asked.

  “I thought you said it was dangerous.”

  “I did. And?”

  Rokshan laughed. “Fly on, then.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  Lamprophyre swept past the great southern gate in Tanajital’s wall a third time. “I wish she’d get here already,” she complained. “I’m sure everyone’s sick of watching me fly loops around the city.”

  “You underestimate how dramatic your appearance is,” Rokshan said. She felt him shift as he waved to the soldiers on the wall yet again. “It’s not something humans tire of, watching a beautiful, powerful creature in motion. It’s why horse racing is so popular.”

  “I’m not sure whether to be pleased at the compliment or irritated that you just compared me to a draft animal.”

  Rokshan laughed. “If we could arrange for dragon races, that would make human fear of dragons virtually disappear. Imagine it, Lamprophyre. Humans choosing favorites, cheering on their chosen dragon…”

  “That’s either brilliant or the worst idea in human history. Though dragons do like to race. I know Bromargyrite and Porphyry of my clutch would take that offer in a heartbeat.”

  “It’s something to consider, anyway. I’m not sure how many of your people are interested in visiting the lowlands for an extended period.” Rokshan leaned forward and pointed. “I think that’s her. Them. Looks like more than one.”

  Lamprophyre coasted to a stop and hung hovering above the eastern wall. “It’s Hyaloclast,” she said, “and Leucite and Heliodor and Flint. She brought an escort.” Why Flint, who was as young as she was, Lamprophyre didn’t know, but it was comforting, as if otherwise the dragons would be antagonistic. Which was foolishness; Hyaloclast was here as a potential ally, and Leucite and Heliodor were open-minded—probably—and Flint was smart for all he looked beautiful and dim. Everything would be fine. Flint’s presence was still a relief.

  She flew out to meet the dragons above the plains to the north, the tilled ground making squares of every shade of green beneath them. They must look so dramatic against the cloudless sky, Hyaloclast and the midnight-blue Flint a stark contrast to bronze Leucite and Heliodor with her flame-orange scales and brilliantly gold wing membranes. Lamprophyre, with her scales nearly matching the sky, was the least exotic of the five.

  “The king will meet you on the training ground,” she said, pitching her voice to carry over the wind. “It’s where the Army practices military things. The palace isn’t big enough to fit all of us. Actually, it’s barely big enough to fit me in their great hall. So I hope you won’t feel insulted.”

  “Rational people take no offense where none is intended,” Hyaloclast said. “I’m interested in seeing this human city up close. Our legends don’t say how large they are, but even from here I can see it’s quite sizable.”

  “Tanajital is the largest Gonjirian city,” Lamprophyre said as their little group continued flying toward the city.

  “It’s also the second largest on the continent,” Rokshan said, “second only to Jyotini in Sachetan, which is farther south.” His voice didn’t carry as far as Lamprophyre’s, but Hyaloclast seemed to have no trouble hearing him.

  “Interesting that you have a wall surrounding the city even though it is breached by the river in two places,” Hyaloclast said. “How does that affect your defense?”

  “The river narrows an enemy’s assault so they’re forced to attempt an entry at only two places, both of which are heavily fortified,” Rokshan replied. “We also have several observation points along the river upstream and down, so an enemy would be hard pressed to sneak inside.”

  “I see,” Hyaloclast said. “And, four gates?”

  “You realize you sound like someone assessing Tanajital as a target,” Rokshan said.

  To Lamprophyre’s shock, Hyaloclast laughed. “I do, don’t I? Don’t worry, young prince, I’m simply comparing what I see to our stories of human cities of the past. I’m curious as to how much has changed over the centuries.”

  “There was a lot I didn’t know to expect,” Lamprophyre said. “Humans build a wide variety of buildings that all have names beyond ‘building.’ They create stairs and stack their homes atop each other. And they use materials we don’t know, such as glass—I mean, the kind of glass they have is very different from ours.”

  They swept past the wall and Lamprophyre led the group in the direction of the palace. “The dragon embassy, where I live, is that way,” she said, pointing. “Ahead is the coliseum, that’s the building with no roof and red arches. They have races there. And the palace is just beyond that.”

  All the dragons made noises of appreciation when they saw the palace with its gilded roofs. “I didn’t realize humans’ craftsmanship was so impressive,” Leucite rumbled. “It’s like piles of crystals dusted with talc, drenched in molten gold.”

  “It makes me hungry,” Flint muttered so Lamprophyre alone could hear. She giggled.

  They flew around the side of the palace to where the soldiers had built a wooden structure half a dragonlength tall. Stairs led to the top, which was a platform wide enough that Lamprophyre could have rested on it if she weren’t worried about crushing the thing. When she’d looked at it earlier that morning, the platform had been empty. Now, a gilded chair with a high back and a fringed canopy stood opposite the stairs, with a smaller but no less ornate chair beside it to the left. King Ekanath sat in the large chair, his hands gripping the armrests loosely as if he weren’t nervous, though Lamprophyre, listening to his thoughts, knew he was barely keeping himself from restlessly tapping his foot in anxiety.

  Tekentriya stood to his right, one hand resting on the high back of the chair, her bad leg thrust out in front of her. Her thoughts were angrier and less nervous than Ekanath’s: huge mistake and make us their vassals if we’re not careful and Rokshan thinks he has that beast controlled. Lamprophyre’s dislike of Tekentriya hardened.

  Satiya sat in the chair to Ekanath’s left, placid and peaceful as her husband was not. As Lamprophyre drew nearer, Satiya put her hand over Ekanath’s, and without looking at her, he turned his hand to take hold of hers. It was such a tender gesture it startled Lamprophyre, who’d thought the king incapable of such emotion. Anchala stood behind her mother, her long black hair tangling in the light breeze.

  Manishi, at the end of the platform some distance from the little group at its center, was dressed as inf
ormally as ever, but Lamprophyre scented stone and guessed she considered herself as well-clad as anyone. Though her position might have been determined not by disdain for her parents but by a hatred of her brother Khadar, who occupied the opposite end. Manishi’s expression was disdainful of the Fifth Ecclesiast, which put Lamprophyre in greater charity with the adept.

  Khadar’s thoughts, she didn’t want to listen to, but decided if he was going to attack her again, she ought to be prepared. He was mentally grumbling about having to be there at all and thinking dire thoughts about heathens in our midst, spreading apostasy and leading people astray.

  Colorful canopies shielded all the members of the royal family except Manishi, who had stepped away from the one intended for her. Lamprophyre landed a respectful two dragonlengths away and to the side, leaving plenty of space for Hyaloclast to alight in front of the stairs. The platform put Ekanath and the other humans face to face with the dragon queen.

  No one spoke. Lamprophyre realized neither ruler wanted to be first, probably because that would give up social standing, or usurp it, or something only rulers cared about. She took two steps forward and said, “Hyaloclast, this is Ekanath, king of Gonjiri. Ekanath, this is Hyaloclast, dragon queen. As dragon ambassador to the humans, I want to thank you both for agreeing to meet.” She hoped that was sufficient introduction to make them both feel they weren’t giving anything up.

  Hyaloclast stirred. “Your majesty,” she said, her voice deeper than usual, “it’s good to meet you. It has been centuries since a human ruler and a dragon queen came face to face.”

  “Then I am pleased to be part of making history,” Ekanath said. He rose and walked forward to the edge of the platform. “And I would like to apologize for the misunderstandings that have plagued our initial encounters.”

  Lamprophyre kept from falling over in shock. Beside her, Rokshan put a hand on her flank as if he needed its steadying help as well. Ekanath apologizing. What next?

  “As would I,” Hyaloclast said, and Lamprophyre swallowed an astonished squeak. “I would prefer us to move forward in amity and let those misunderstandings stay in the past.”

  “Agreed.” Ekanath offered his hand to Hyaloclast, who took it in her huge one with barely a breath of hesitation.

  “I understand from the ambassador,” Hyaloclast said after releasing the king’s hand, “that the humans of Gonjiri came north in response to a prophecy, and that you believe the intent of this prophecy was to bring humans and dragons together once more. How will this affect the Gonjirians currently settling in our territory, if the prophecy has been fulfilled?”

  “I’ve given that consideration in the last three days,” Ekanath said. “It’s true, we might withdraw from dragon territory entirely, but I think we would both benefit from a closer association. If it’s acceptable to you, I would like to maintain that Gonjirian settlement, and encourage dragons to visit so we can grow accustomed to one another. And, of course, dragons are welcome within Gonjiri at any time.”

  Hyaloclast smiled. “That’s ambitious. I’m not sure either dragons or humans are quite so civilized as to be that immediately accepting of one another. But I appreciate the offer. And I will send dragons south a few at a time, so as not to overwhelm our new allies.”

  Lamprophyre was practically bursting with questions, primarily ones about how Ekanath had become so enthusiastically cooperative in only a few days. Hyaloclast turned to her, and she immediately realized the dragon queen had heard her thoughts. “What do you recommend, ambassador?” Hyaloclast said. “How should we proceed, in your experience?”

  “Limit the dragons to visiting Tanajital at first,” Lamprophyre said. “Gonjiri knows about dragons, but the smaller towns aren’t used to seeing them. We can spread out to Kolmira and Suwedhi and farther south and east as time passes. I’m sure the humans here will tell others about us. And dragons should remember how small and fragile humans are, and try to see themselves as humans do. I have some human children friends who think of me as a very large toy, but their parents are always aware that I could hurt those children accidentally, just because I’m so much bigger.”

  “And humans should remember the same,” Rokshan put in. “While we can’t hurt dragons, we have any number of things, particularly artifacts, that dragons have no understanding of. We should remember not to take our knowledge for granted.”

  “Well said,” Hyaloclast said. “We will make this a slow process. It’s been centuries, after all—we don’t need to recover our lost relationship overnight.”

  “I would also like to discuss a military alliance,” Ekanath said. “Though Rokshan and Lamprophyre’s efforts have lessened the chance of a Fanishkorite invasion, Fanishkor is still a threat to Gonjiri—and to dragons, if I understand correctly. Something about the theft of an egg?”

  Heliodor and Leucite growled. Hyaloclast said, “That will not happen again. But yes, it appears we have a common enemy. We dragons are not interested in starting a war, but by the Stones, we will end one if it comes calling. So if Gonjiri chooses to attack Fanishkor preemptively, we will not join you. But we will enthusiastically support you if Fanishkor attacks. Is that enough alliance for you?”

  “That is exactly what I intended to propose,” Ekanath said. “I hope it will not be necessary.”

  Lamprophyre, listening in, found to her surprise that he was telling the truth. He was turning out to be not at all what she’d thought at their first meeting. Whether Hyaloclast considered tracking down Harshod’s superiors and killing them an act of war, she didn’t know, because Hyaloclast had already moved on to thinking about her next question.

  “I hope you will not take offense at our not permitting a human ambassador to live with us,” Hyaloclast said. “Our homes are not hospitable to humans, and there are also religious reasons why we do not allow humans to stay there permanently. Is there some compromise we could come to?”

  “A human ambassador living among the settlers would be close enough to relay information,” Ekanath said. “As to communication, my daughter Manishi has a solution.”

  Manishi picked up a large sack that looked to be made of the same fabric her shirt was and walked forward to join the king. “It’s a new development in magical artifacts,” she said, opening the sack.

  Hyaloclast and Lamprophyre both wrinkled their noses at the strongly bitter scent that emerged. “Chalcedony,” Hyaloclast said. “Very large pieces. I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  Manishi reached into the sack and withdrew a polished round of white chalcedony bigger than her fist. She handed it to Lamprophyre, then gave Hyaloclast a second piece almost the twin of the first, but half again as large. “These two are attuned to each other. You breathe on it—Lamprophyre knows how—and it allows you to speak to the person holding the other piece, however far apart you are.”

  “My ambassador will have a similar piece for speaking to me,” the king said. “It will cut down on misunderstandings and make coming to an accord much simpler.”

  “Fascinating,” Hyaloclast said. She sniffed the chalcedony, then ducked her head and sneezed. Every human on the platform tensed, but Hyaloclast simply wiped a hand across her nose and said, “Excuse me.”

  Ekanath relaxed. “I believe there is a banquet prepared—a formal meal,” he corrected himself. “If you’d care to join us, your majesty? There are many more things we can discuss, and I believe my daughter Anchala is anxious to speak with your entourage about dragon customs and history.”

  “Thank you, that would be most welcome,” Hyaloclast said. “Mother Stone knows we are happy to share our lost knowledge with you.”

  Khadar shifted. “Mother Stone,” he said, his voice angry and dismissive. “Your majesty, how can you allow these creatures to spread their heresy freely among the people of Gonjiri?”

  “Excuse me?” Hyaloclast said. Her words were polite, but Lamprophyre could hear her thinking heresy? Who is this whelp?

  “That’s inappropriate, Khadar,” Ek
anath said. “Show respect to the dragon queen.”

  “I refuse to allow dragons and their misguided religion—”

  “Shut up, Khadar,” Rokshan warned.

  “Misguided?” Hyaloclast said. Now she sounded angry. “Mother Stone, misguided?”

  “Khadar is overzealous. I apologize for his outburst,” Ekanath said. He strode to Khadar’s side and grabbed his arm. “Now is not the time—”

  Khadar shook him off, causing Rokshan to start up the stairs toward them. “I have a duty to this people that trumps your frightened diplomacy!”

  “You do not,” Lamprophyre said, following Rokshan. “You don’t believe any of that. You just don’t want to lose power!”

  “Don’t challenge an ecclesiast, ambassador,” Ekanath said angrily. Lamprophyre, aware that she couldn’t reveal she’d heard all of that in Khadar’s thoughts, fell silent.

  Khadar stepped to the edge of the platform. “Listen to me!” he shouted, raising his arms high. “Jiwanyil will not be mocked! The true—”

  He stopped speaking. No one moved. Lamprophyre watched Hyaloclast, fearing Khadar might have started the war she’d worked so hard to avert, but Hyaloclast stood perfectly still, waiting for Khadar’s next words.

  Khadar licked his lips. His eyes closed, and he swayed as if he were about to faint. Rokshan, halfway up the stairs, hurried to his side, and Lamprophyre put herself beneath Khadar to catch him if he fell. She didn’t like him at all, but he was still a person and she didn’t want to see him break his neck.

  Khadar’s eyes opened. Lamprophyre was within only a few handspans of him, so she saw clearly that his eyes, which had been the same brown as Rokshan’s, were not only now the green of new leaves, but the color completely covered his eyes, iris and pupil and white and all.

  He licked his lips again. “This shall not stand,” he said, or, more accurately, someone else said through his mouth; the voice was not Khadar’s, but that of a stranger who might have been male or female by its pitch. “The north cries out, the south pleads, and none shall stand in its path. Fear the ally, and make room for the stranger. The skies will burn.” White foam collected at the corners of his mouth that he licked away.