The Unbearable Lightness of Dragons

by Katie MacAlister

  “I’d like to engage a Summoner, one with experience with dragons,” I said. “Can you hook me up with one? I’m just outside of London, but I’m willing to go anywhere in Europe to speak with her.”

  Brom wandered past with a large bucket, heading for the shrubs again.

  “Her?” the man said, suspicion dripping from the word.

  “Or him,” I said quickly. “I’m good with either gender, so long as the Summoner has experience with dragon ghosts.”

  “Dragon ghosts?” the man repeated, his voice taking on a weary tone. “Madame, you are aware, are you not, that there are several types of spirits?”

  “Well . . . not really. I mean, a ghost is a ghost is a ghost, isn’t it?”

  “No,” he said firmly. “There are bound and unbound, released and unreleased spirits. There are alastors and alguls, as well as shades, revenants, and liches. A sentient being who is brought forth by a member of the Akashic League may take any one of those forms. How and when did the dragon you referenced die?”

  Nico, the green dragon tutor whom Baltic had reluctantly engaged for Brom’s education, smiled at me as he passed by carrying a large covered tray and a small hatchet.

  “Oh. Um, I’m not exactly sure.”

  The man sighed heavily. “Your chance of success in raising the spirit or entity will depend directly on the amount of information you can give the person assisting you.”

  I made a rude face at the phone. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to dig up more information, but really, I think it’s best that I talk directly to the person who will be doing the summoning.”

  Pavel, armed with a coil of rope, a small chain saw, and a plate of pastel-colored cupcakes, passed me with a determined look on his face, and disappeared into the yew shrubs.

  “Well . . .” The click of keys on a keyboard followed. “As it happens, we do have a Summoner who lists dragons as an area of expertise. Would you like to book her services?”

  I agreed, and provided the man with the necessary information, thanking him when he finally parted with the name and phone number I wanted.

  “Her services will not be cheap,” the man warned before I hung up. “Nor will she take kindly to a client who wastes her time.”

  “Oh, I don’t think we have that to worry about,” I told him, getting up to see just what was going on in the shrubs, all the while planning what I would say to Dr. Kostich.

  After admiring the new archaeological dig site (Nico had devised a way to incorporate lessons in history, botany, biology, and a little physical education in a manner that kept Brom’s interest), I returned to the house to call Maura Lo. She didn’t answer her phone, so I left a voice mail saying I was interested in hiring her services for help with a dragon spirit.

  “I don’t suppose it is any good asking you to reconsider your plans.”

  I looked at the man standing in the doorway, hands on his hips, face set in a disgruntled expression, my stomach doing an excited flip at the sight of him. I wondered if I would ever be able to see him without that little wibble of pleasure. I sure hoped not. “I want this to end, Baltic.”

  He shook his head, coming into the sitting room, pulling me into a gentle embrace. “It serves no purpose, mate. The weyr believes only what they wish to believe.”

  “Only because they’re too stubborn to see the truth, but we can help them overcome that.”

  His sigh ruffled my hair. “I wish that I could understand your desire to be a part of the weyr.”

  I snuggled against him, breathing in the wonderful Baltic scent that never failed to leave me a bit giddy. “I wish you could, too. But since you can’t, you’re just going to have to accept that this is important to me. To us. I don’t want Brom or any of our children growing up in the middle of a war.”

  A wicked smile curled his lips as he pulled me tighter, grinding my hips against his. “Our time would be better spent working on those children.”

  “Tempting, but I think I’d rather have weyr peace first, so you can stop trying to woo me into bed. I’ll just get my things and then I’ll be ready to go. Where’s your girlfriend?”

  He stared at me with a slight frown.

  “Thala.”

  “I cannot decide if your jealousy of her is amusing or irritating,” he said thoughtfully. “Perhaps it is both.”

  “I’m not—oh, never mind. Is she here?”

  “No.” He looked away, suddenly cagey.

  “Where is she?”

  “She went to Italy last night after you tempted me away with caramel. My son will not come with us to the meeting with the wyverns. I will not have him put in danger.”

  “I didn’t intend for him to come, not that I think there’s any danger. Nico is out with him digging up what Brom insists is an ancient peat bog. He’s hoping for Viking treasure, so I don’t think we would be able to get him away even if we wanted him to come with us.”

  “Good. He would not be safe.”

  “Don’t be silly,” I said, going out to change into something more suited to the dignity of a meeting with wyverns. I was upstairs, in the middle of donning a white lace jacquard coat dress, white lace stockings, and the engraved silver love token that Baltic had made me some five hundred years earlier, when I realized that once again he had adroitly distracted me from asking him a question I suspected he didn’t want me to ask.

  “You’d think he’d learn by now,” I said to myself as I trotted down the back stairs to check on a lime-garlic marinade I’d whipped up, making sure the chicken was soaking in it before I went out to rout Baltic from wherever he had disappeared.

  “There you are. Listen, I know you don’t want to tell me. . . .” I stopped speaking, blinking in astonishment as the love of my life marched down the stairs. He wore a calf-length black topcoat, black pants, and a long black tunic top that shimmered with light as he moved. “By the rood, Baltic! You look absolutely wonderful. Is the shirt beaded?” I peered closely at the tunic.

  “Do I look like the sort of a man who wears beaded garments?” he asked, the scorn in his voice counterbalanced by his pleased expression as I marveled over his outfit. “It’s dragonweave. I had some made for you, but it’s in Riga. I’ll have it brought out here, if you like.”

  “It’s gorgeous material,” I said, touching the tunic. “It’s like it’s covered in thousands of crystals but there’s nothing there but the fabric, is there?”

  “You will make a dress from it to wear in front of other dragons. I hadn’t thought we would have need of it, but I see I was wrong.”

  “Wow. It’s just . . . and you look . . . I could pounce on you,” I said, circling him.

  “I am happy to spend the time making love to you instead of meeting with the wyverns,” he offered politely.

  I laughed, gave him a quick kiss, then took his hand and tugged him toward the door. “Nice try. That outfit almost did it, too, but it’s more important that we take care of this. Oh, Pavel. I didn’t know you were coming with us. I’m glad, though. You can help keep Baltic from losing his temper with everyone.”

  Pavel emerged from his room next to the kitchen, clad in black pants and a slightly different black tunic. It, too, was made of dragonweave, but it didn’t appear to have quite such a glittery effect to it. I gathered that only the wyvern got to wear the really flashy version of the cloth, and I spent the next ten minutes in pleasant contemplation of just what sort of a dress I would fashion from the material that Baltic had had made for me.

  My second attempt to find out what Thala was doing in Italy was met with a look that I decided I wouldn’t pursue in front of Pavel. Although he might be Baltic’s closest friend, I hesitated to involve him in the discussion when Baltic obviously preferred otherwise. I was content to simply give him a look that let him know the subject wasn’t closed, and then I focused on driving us to the house he had built for me several hundred years before.

  “We have to talk to Kostya about giving Dragonwood back to us,” I said as I stopped j
ust shy of the willow and lime crescent that blocked the view of the house from the long drive.

  Baltic considered the redbrick Tudor mansion front, nodding at the house with approval. “Next to Dauva, it is the best of our homes.”

  I sighed as I gazed at it. It was utterly perfect, everything about it meant to please, from the location on the top of a gentle hill, to the center square tower, to the beautiful mullioned windows and stone quoins, all the way up to the parapets that were etched into the sky. The grounds were just as lovely, with a garden that I had designed myself, a crystal clear pond, and velvety green expanses of lawn that sang a sweet siren song to me.

  “Baltic—” I stopped, my throat too tight to continue.

  He took my hand and kissed my fingers. “It will be yours again, my love. I swear to you that it will.”

  “It wants us back,” I said, my eyes swimming with tears of longing as the essence of the house seemed to wrap itself around me, an essence that was heavily imbued with happy memories of our time spent there. “It needs us.”

  Baltic was silent for a moment, then brushed away a tear that escaped my eye, saying softly, “We will get it back.”

  I pulled myself together, squelching the pain, reminding myself that there was a long way to go before we could negotiate with Kostya for the return of the house. “Let’s tackle one thing at a time. It’s more important that we end this stupid war.”

  “I don’t see why,” Pavel said as we got out of the car. “Brom visits the silver dragons and has a green dragon tutor, and you meet with the mates. . . . Does it really matter if the war continues?”

  “Yes, it does. Just because things are amicable now doesn’t mean they won’t go all pear-shaped later, and I want us to be a part of the weyr so we have some protection if that happens.”

  Baltic sighed, but took my hand and led me up the stairs, at the top of which stood two large figures.

  “Good morning, Maata. Tipene. Are you guys banished to the outside, or are May and Gabriel not here yet?” I asked.

  Both of the silver guards greeted me, nodding to Baltic. “It was decided that all guards are to remain outside for your meeting.” Maata looked like she wanted to smile, but she held it back. “We were going to have a stroll around the gardens that you designed. Perhaps Pavel would care to join us?”

  “Oh, that sounds wonderful. I hope we’ll have time to join you later. I’d love to see the flowers again. . . .”

  Baltic gave me a little shove toward the big double doors.

  “Gardens. How delightful,” Pavel answered, looking as if he’d rather have his fingernails yanked out one by one.

  “It won’t hurt you,” I told him, laughing as he followed the two silver dragons.

  “Come. Let us have this over with,” Baltic said, throwing open one of the doors. I hesitated at the threshold, since the last time I had attempted to cross it, I’d been pulled into the beyond, the shadow world that paralleled our reality, where I had seen Baltic watching a bittersweet vision of our past.

  His eyes met mine. I tightened my fingers in his, smiled, and allowed him to see the love in my eyes before I crossed into the house.

  “Well, I might have known this would happen,” I said a moment later as a bone-freezing cold seeped into my awareness. The world shifted and lost color, resolving itself into a grey-toned scene that I realized was colorless because the building in which I stood was made of stone and metal. I rubbed my arms and looked with curiosity around what appeared to be a lobby of some sort. “Brr. Where is this, I wonder?”

  “I do not know, but I dislike it.”

  I spun around to find Baltic directly behind me. “You’re getting into more and more of my visions. I don’t know if that’s good or bad. I think this is the aerie.”

  “What aerie?” His eyes were as unreadable as his expression as he looked around and then grimaced. “Ah. The one that belongs to Kostya. End the vision, mate.”

  “End it? How am I supposed to do that? What dragons live in Nepal? Red?”

  Noise behind me had me considering the figures of three men who emerged from the other side of the lobby.

  “No,” Baltic said, grabbing me and pulling me backward, as if he feared we’d be seen.

  “They can’t see us,” I said, escaping his hold, curious now as to who the dragons were. I stepped into the lobby, pausing when a fourth man walked straight through Baltic toward the group.

  “Is it done?” the fourth man asked the others.

  One of the three nodded. “Aye. We have control of the aerie.”

  “Kostya?”

  “Locked in a storage room until his cell is readied.”

  “Good. I’ll pass that on to the chief.”

  “We’re right—this is where Kostya went after the destruction of Dauva,” I said to Baltic. “I remember Aisling saying something about him being held prisoner. But who are those dragons? What sept do they belong to?”

  “None. They are ouroboros. Come, mate, we have tarried too long. The wyverns are waiting for us.”

  The word “ouroboros” rang in my head like a bell. “I really want to see this, Baltic. I think it’s important somehow.”

  “It is not.”

  “How do you know that?” A sudden horrible thought occurred to me. “By the saints! Are these your dragons? Was it you who had Kostya imprisoned? It was, wasn’t it? You couldn’t kill him outright because of your past relationship, but you wanted him out of the way, so you had him locked up in his own hidey-hole?”

  “I am not responsible for this, no,” he said, his lips thinning.

  I avoided his hold and moved closer to the group of dragons. “Then you know who did.”

  “—how long we’ll have to stay here?” one of the men was asking the obvious leader. “It’s bloody cold.”

  “We’ll stay as long as we have to. You might as well see if there’s any food. The chief will be here at any moment, and I’d like to be able to tell her that all is taken care of.”

  “Her? Her who?” I asked no one in particular.

  Baltic looked bored and didn’t answer.

  “Still say it’s wrong to let her call the shots,” one of the three dragons said in a languid Southern U.S. drawl. “Not like she’s even really one of us.”

  “Don’t be such a snob. Her father was high up in the sept, and is said to have had the ear of the wyvern.”

  The man snorted. “Red dragons. All they want is to war.”

  “Which works to our benefit,” the leader said, cocking his head as if he was listening to something.

  “Who are they talking about?” I asked Baltic, a suspicion arising that I hesitated to name.

  His expression was shuttered. “Do you wish to stand here all day, or do you want for us to speak with the wyverns?”

  “Typical nonanswer, dragon. Who—oh!”

  A man appeared out of nothing, seemingly walking through the wall straight into the gathering. I gawked at him, taking in clothing that appeared to be from the turn of the twentieth century, as well as his less than solid form.

  “Is that a ghost?” I asked Baltic in a whisper as the figure drifted over to the group.

  He sighed. “Mate, we must leave now.”

  “Is it?”

  “Of a form. It is a shade. Your time is up, Ysolde. End this vision.”

  “My mistress comes,” the ghostly man informed the others, and over the howl of the wind beating against the stone of the building, I could hear the growing sound of a helicopter approaching.

  “I am leaving now,” Baltic informed me, dropping my hand, which he had grabbed in a futile attempt to pull me away with him. “Either come with me or do not, but do not expect me to agree to another meeting with the wyverns.”

  “Just a second, I want to see—Baltic!” I started after him as he strode away into the dimness of a corridor that led off from the lobby. I glanced over my shoulder and said, “I want to see who’s arriving. You know, don’t you? You know who was be
hind Kostya’s capture? And who these dragons are?”

  “They are ouroboros,” he repeated, pausing to let me catch up to him.

  “I wonder if they’re the same group as the one I’m looking for.”

  “You are not to look for ouroboros dragons,” he informed me in a haughty tone that he had to know would just irritate me.

  “Oh, I’m not? And why is that?”

  “They are lawless murderers, dangerous, and without any regard for life, be it that of dragons or mortals. They are the single biggest danger to the mortals you care so much about.” He opened a thick metal door and shoved me outside into a sunny but windy snowscape. Immediately the world shifted, and I found myself strolling into the dim coolness of a house that wrapped me in such a familiar embrace, I wanted to sink to my knees and cry with the injustices of life.

  “There you are. I was about to go look in the shadow world for you. Is everything all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Ysolde.”

  “I have.” I blinked a few times to clear my still-fuzzy vision, it finally resolving itself into the sight of May’s concerned face peering at me. “I’m sorry. We were sucked into a vision in . . .”

  The words trailed away at the sight of Kostya emerging from a side room.

  “I’ll tell you later,” I finished in an undertone.

  May’s eyebrows rose as Gabriel, who had been using his cell phone, hung up and strolled over to us. “Drake and Aisling have been detained, but they are only a few minutes away. Greetings, Ysolde.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Baltic.”

  “I’m sorry, it seems this house is just vision-central for me,” I said, smiling at Gabriel. “Thank you for coming. I’m sure you have better things to do with your time, but we appreciate it. Don’t we, Baltic?”

  “Not in the least,” he said pleasantly, but I could tell his hackles were up by the way he watched Kostya.

  Gabriel relaxed at that, his dimples showing as he wrapped an arm around May. “It is good to know that you are running true to form, Baltic. I wouldn’t know what to think should you be anything but hostile and surly.”