Dragon's Fire

by Gwynn White

  “I thought you were being regaled by Felix.” Meka sat on the tiny wooden plank next to him and gripped the chains. He lunged off, sending the swing up high.

  “Finally escaped.” Grigor rubbed his eyes. “What a day. Never again, if I have anything to do with it. And it’s not over. Felix gave me a dance card with about a hundred names on it!” He glared at Meka as if that were his fault.

  Meka grinned. “A hundred women will be hobbling around the palace tomorrow morning.”

  “Serves them right.”

  “Is Natalia’s name included?”

  “No. Felix said I need to meet more women. Widen my choices. Whatever the hell that means. All I know is that Natalia is not going to be happy with me.”

  Meka shook his head, wondering what Felix had against Natalia. But he had burned all day to tell Grigor about Lady Tatiana and Stefan Zarot to worry about that problem now.

  Before he could launch his story, Grigor spoke. “You haven’t snagged my girl? I saw you and her deep into each other today. She gave you something.”

  Meka dug his feet into the ground to stop his swing and then clipped Grigor on the side of the head with his open palm.

  “What?” Grigor demanded.

  “How can you even suggest that?”

  “Sorry. Just a terrible day with no signs of getting better anytime soon.” Grigor groaned. “From tomorrow, Felix is taking over my instruction. Apparently, all those confounded essays for Arkady have taught me nothing that really matters.”

  Meka grunted. “I have to agree with that one. Do you know what a letter is?”

  “Of course. They’re written correspondence sent from one person to another.”

  “Oh. If you know that, then I suppose it explains Natalia’s comment about me not being very bright.” He shrugged his embarrassment away. “Don’t panic. Your girl is safe. She thinks me as thick as fish dropping.”

  “She didn’t say that?” Grigor sounded shocked.

  Meka laughed. “Not exactly. But the meaning was there. She gave me a letter to give to her cousins. Zarot’s children.”

  But Meka could see that Grigor was no longer listening.

  Without warning, his brother jumped straight off his swing. He landed heavily, stumbled, and then spun around to face Meka just as the swing raced forward. It hit Grigor’s chest with a crack, but he didn’t even wince.

  “Dragon’s ass, Meka, I can’t do this. Not while I know there’s a real crown prince who should have been here today. And now I have to face this ball with all these people who think I’m something special when I know it’s not true. I can’t lie like this. I just can’t.”

  Meka brought his swing to a halt. “I know that. But you have to. What other choice do you have?”

  Grigor turned toward the gate. “I’ve been thinking all day of speaking to Lukan. If I just understood the reason—”

  “Whoa! Not so fast.” Meka wriggled off his swing and grabbed Grigor’s fancy sash to stop him leaving. “Taking Lukan head on is not the way to go. Or have you forgotten the guardsmen?”

  Grigor wrenched away. The Dragon brooch ripped through the sash, leaving Meka holding the sliver of red, black, and gold silk. “How can you say that? How can you let him manipulate us like this? You off on some stupid tour . . .” His face reddened with anger. “Tao said they would try and split us, and that is exactly what has happened. I’m not letting them get away with it. We have to have some control over our lives.”

  Grigor’s rebellion—surprisingly long in coming but now probably almost impossible to truly stem—wasn’t good news. To save his twin’s life, Meka had to try and contain Grigor.

  “I spoke to our grandfather’s old mistress today, Lady Tatiana. She was at our birth. She knows about Nicholas. She told me to speak to Stefan Zarot and to a man called Axel. You know, the one from the painting? She says they’ll give us answers.” Meka tossed the torn sash down onto the ground and gripped his brother’s shoulders. “Promise me you won’t say anything to Lukan until you hear from me.”

  Grigor’s jaw remained mulish.

  “I’ll send you letters.” Meka wasn’t sure if that was possible, but Vasily and Zarot had to be able to communicate with the palace. They must have had some system for moving letters around that didn’t include handing them to travelers just before balls. “Every week. That way, you’ll know I’m safe and that I’m working to free you—all of us—from this.”

  “And if your letters don’t come?”

  “They will, I promise you that. And maybe you can write to me. Tell me how you’re doing. Get Felix to help you post them.”

  Grigor huffed a deep breath. “Okay. But the day the letters stop coming, I’m going after Lukan. He can piss through his ass if he thinks I’m doing his crown prince stuff without some answers to my questions.”

  His twin being crude? That was usually Meka’s preserve.

  “And if I don’t like what he says,” Grigor continued, “I’ll tell the bastard he can drag Nicholas out of his cage to be his heir. And nothing you can say will change my mind.”

  Worry twisted Meka’s face, but he knew it was the best he would get from Grigor today. “Deal. Now, let’s go for a walk until you calm down. You can’t go into the great hall looking like you want to kill everyone.”

  Panting like a horse on a cold day, Grigor followed Meka out of the cage, across the garden, to the closest drawbridge. Without question, the guardsmen let them pass. Meka led Grigor to the stream Tao had taken them to the first time they had met their father. Like the lake, the ice had largely melted and the swollen river had burst its banks. They sat together in silence on the damp grass, watching the turbulent water rushing over logs and tree stumps in its path.

  Finally, Grigor spoke. “I miss him.”

  Meka guessed exactly who Grigor meant. “I do, too. I wish he’d come back.”

  Grigor cracked a grin. “Maybe he hasn’t been back because his biology lesson was a failure and he’s pissed off that you can’t accept he’s dead.”

  Meka smiled back. “Ever think that maybe he’s pissed off because you don’t think he’s alive?”

  Grigor sighed, then lay back on the soggy grass. “Either way, it doesn’t matter, does it? He’s not around.”

  Melancholic enough, Meka didn’t want to dwell on his missing father. Not when Tao had been had been right about everything: Lukan and Felix would never quit until they had torn him and Grigor apart.

  Chapter 46

  The sun had just edged its glowing forehead over the horizon when Meka arrived with Grigor at the garage where Vasily parked his black steam carriage. A guardsman stood at the controls, while another soldier worked the levers controlling a gantry above the vehicle. He first spewed coal into the hopper and then water into the boiler. They stopped what they were doing to bow.

  Meka acknowledged them with an absentminded nod. His attention was focused on Grigor, who hadn’t stopped seething since their discussion at the lake. Meka was so concerned about him that not even his first ride in a steam carriage could lift his mood.

  Grigor slumped down against the side of Vasily’s vehicle, looking at Meka with bloodshot eyes. Having been awake most of the night, Meka knew nightmares had plagued Grigor once he finally came to bed.

  “I’m scared for you,” Grigor said.

  “Don’t let bad dreams cloud your reality,” Meka replied matter-of-factly, as if he nurtured no fears about his trip.

  “Easy to say, Meks. Just come back to me in one piece.”

  “And you work at being alive when I get back, and not dead like those guardsmen.” Meka slapped Grigor’s shoulder. “You, me, and those bees.”

  Grigor managed a wan smile. “You, me, and those bees.” He kicked the steam carriage’s tires. “I wonder how many of these you’ll burn through before getting to Zakar?”

  “Hmm, good question.” Meka rubbed the stubble on his jaw—he hadn’t gotten around to shaving that morning. “Crazy question, too. Zakar�
�s on the other side of the empire, and I still have to get to Treven. How do Vasily and Zarot make it to council meetings? They must spend their whole lives driving back and forth across the empire.”

  “And there’s a sea crossing to get to Treven.”

  Meka and Grigor stared at each other. Meka opened his mouth to say there had to be another way people traveled when both Felix and Vasily appeared at the door. Both men bowed. Vasily headed for Meka and Felix for Grigor.

  Grigor sighed audibly, but Felix showed no sign of having heard it. He latched on to Grigor’s arm. “Say your goodbyes, my Crown Prince, because your brother and Count Vasily need to be on their way. They have far to go.”

  Vasily beamed at Meka. “Indeed, my dear Prince Meka. Such fun awaits us.”

  “Count Vasily, how long will it take to get to Zakar?” Meka demanded.

  “That is where the surprise starts—”

  Felix coughed loudly.

  Vasily’s mouth gaped like a fish’s. He snapped it closed. “Prince Meka, we will have plenty of time to discuss and answer all your questions once in the carriage. Best say goodbye to your brother so we can be on our way.”

  Meka wondered what Vasily and Felix were keeping from him and Grigor. But knowing he’d get no answer, he turned to hug Grigor.

  His brother clung to him as fiercely as he hugged back. And then Meka broke away and stepped into the carriage. The sooner they parted the better, or he would humiliate himself in front of the adults by releasing his unshed tears.

  Vasily lumbered his rolling frame into the door, making the whole carriage sag. Felix slammed the door shut. The guardsmen at the controls let out a shriek of steam, and they were on their way out of the garage.

  As they headed down the driveway, Meka watched Grigor until his brother was just a tiny spot next to Felix. The steam carriage crossed a drawbridge that led to a paved road between towering trees Meka had never traveled on before. He turned to Vasily for answers to his questions about the journey. Instead, his mouth dropped, all thoughts about their route and the timing of their trip blown away.

  Vasily’s face glowed a ghostly green, the light gleaming off the open pocket watch in his hand. Meka was sure it was a watch—until a shaft of light shot up into the air. Vasily pulled on it as if it were a piece of fishing gut. The light blossomed, and the air danced with pictures of unimaginable machines, the likes of which Meka had never seen. Each was labeled with clean, crisp text, similar to the type he’d seen in the falconry book Lukan had confiscated. They spoke of printing presses for mass-producing books, enormous industrial forges for bending steel, iron-clad ships for plying oceans, gargantuan locomotives and railing stock for moving crops—

  Meka leaned forward for a better look. Tentatively, he touched the closest picture, but his finger passed right through the light.

  It didn’t matter.

  He was captivated.

  That beam and the watch it came from were more beautiful than a thousand fish, more alluring than any stream. They showed him words and pictures that no book he had ever been forced to read contained. So, they were not only beautiful, they were intelligent, too. Could anyone ask for more?

  “What is this thing?” he breathed.

  “An informa, Your Highness, powered by a marvel called ice crystal. It is the window to the world.” Vasily pulled up a map of the empire and pointed to Gould, the capital of Zakar Province. “My home is there, in the true Heartland of the empire, where all the magic takes place. The magic I am going to be sharing with you.” Vasily smiled like a cat sucking up a mouse. “What I have shown you now is the merest fraction of the wonders that await you in my realm.”

  A million questions Meka had never known he had opened before his eyes. He guessed that many of the answers lay in that magical watch.

  That was when he knew he’d sell his soul to own an informa.

  Whatever Vasily wanted of him, Meka would do, just as long as he walked away from Gould with an informa in his pocket. When he got back to the palace, he’d share the treasure with Grigor, the person who had always sought knowledge the boring bookshelf in the palace could never provide.

  Anger at Lukan, Felix, Vasily, and every other member of the High Council welled up in him as he considered the words he’d use in his letter to explain this marvel to his brother. How dare they keep something as amazing as this to themselves? Why hadn’t Lukan let Grigor have access to the world? It would have made his brother happy. And perhaps if Grigor had been able to stuff his mind with all the things he wanted to know, his twin wouldn’t now be considering life-endangering acts in his rebellion against Lukan?

  Vasily snapped the watch closed, killing the light, and slipped it back into his pocket. “Prince Meka, you have entered a new world. One, I am convinced, at times will distress and concern you. Do not fear; all is well in hand. Now come. An airship awaits us.”

  An airship? Despite his fury, Meka’s heart thrilled at the concept of a ship that could fly in the air. Hiding that emotion from Vasily, he looked out the window for the first time since seeing the informa. The carriage passed through a set of steel gates in a wall easily fifteen feet high. The gates were manned by guardsmen. He wondered where they were in relation to the palace and then cursed for not taking more notice of the route.

  They drove past a row of vast buildings, three stories high at least, and Meka could only guess at their purpose until they stopped outside one with huge double doors gaping. A menacing black dragon, blazing gold and red flames from its maw, floated in front of it, tethered to the ground with four strong cables.

  Given the dragon’s monstrous size, Meka presumed it had been built in one of those colossal forges in Gould. Strangely, the dragon had two huge, black metal wheels protruding in the air from its hindquarters. If that wasn’t odd enough, the whole thing was suspended from an even bigger, even blacker balloon. It had to be the airship. A handful of guardsmen dressed in strange-looking one-piece uniforms hovered around it. Their uniforms didn’t resemble anything worn by the guardsmen who had been such a huge part of Meka’s life.

  Vasily gave him a patronizing smile and waved his huge hand at the airship. “Don’t be shy, dear prince. That is our transport.”

  Very irritating.

  Scowling, Meka hopped out of the carriage and, without waiting for Vasily, started toward the ramp leading to an open hatch in the dragon’s side.

  Despite his huge bulk, Vasily quickly joined him. Amusement rippling the folds in his face, the count watched Meka expectantly.

  Waiting for me to show fear.

  Meka gritted his teeth and took a tip from Grigor: Back as straight as an arrow, he strode unflinchingly into the dragon’s belly. A passageway yawned before him.

  “To the right, Prince Meka,” Vasily said behind him.

  Meka obeyed. The passage opened into a sitting area with four comfortable seats, two on each side facing each other. He chose one next to the eye-shaped window, slouching in it as if he had spent his whole life sitting in airships.

  Vasily gathered his silken clothes together and oozed down into the seat opposite him. It took a bit of shifting before Vasily stretched out his legs and folded one tree-stump-sized ankle over the other. “Flying time to Zakar, four days.”

  “Four days! Where do we eat? Sleep? Pee?”

  “On the Dragon’s Scale. That’s the name of this craft. You will be shown to your state room after take-off.”

  Four days trapped with Vasily? It was more than Meka could bear. He took refuge in the thought that they would have to stop to replenish their coal and water supplies. “How often do we stop for fuel?”

  “We don’t. Like my informa, this craft is powered by ice crystals.” Vasily tsked. “So much for you to learn in so short a time.”

  Meka was about to ask what he was supposed to do trapped on an airship for four days, but a high-pitched whine, followed by a juddering in his seat, drove all thought from his mind. Terror gripped him as the metal frame vibrate
d around him as if shook by a giant’s hand. He clutched his seat for support. It didn’t help. His throat locked as the unimaginable machine levitated straight up into the air. He watched the ground fall away in horror.

  Then Vasily laughed.

  Was it so funny that Meka had reached seventeen years of age with no concept of the real Chenaya lurking behind the Chenaya he had known all his life? Despite his terror, Meka stared at Vasily. The high-born’s head was thrown back in delight. Meka took in Vasily’s eyes, almost lost in folds of skin; his fleshy, moist lips exposing yellowed teeth; and his thinning, gray hair, swept across his head to hide a bald pate. It was the face of a man who always got what he wanted.

  Almost instinctively, Meka curled his fist, readying himself to smash it into Vasily’s mouth to stop him laughing.

  A hand appeared out of nowhere and grabbed his wrist. Meka tore his attention away from Vasily to see who dared restrain him. Eyes wide, he followed a brown leather sleeve up to the person’s shoulder. He did not need to look at the face to know it was Tao.

  How had his father gotten here? As far as Meka could tell, this part of the airship had been deserted when they had entered it. And what did Vasily have to say about the wild-looking Tao?

  Vasily carried on laughing, clearly oblivious of their visitor.

  “Vasily cannot see me or hear me, Meka. Only you have that privilege. I know I am uninvited, so if you wish me to leave, I will go.”

  Meka shook his head in confusion at Tao’s softly spoken voice into his head.

  “I’ll take that as a ‘please stay.’” Tao’s voice firmed. “Son, I’ve come to offer you a choice. You can fight Vasily and be destroyed. Or you can humor him and have knowledge. Pick one.”

  Meka looked from Tao’s serious face to Vasily. The count was still laughing. How much time had elapsed? And would Vasily laugh the whole way to Gould?

  “Time remains unchanged. I have merely bent the light to keep myself hidden—in exactly the same way I used to hide you boys from the guardsmen.”