by Cebelius
Mortals abandoned the road in front of her as she strode through the city, up the sloped and crooked streets toward the keep. No one spoke to her, and few dared stand in her presence to watch her go her way. As her concern was not with them, she paid no mind to those bold enough to remain.
A single, leonine figure resplendent in plate mail of his own was the only one to oppose her progress. He stood in front of the open gate leading into the bailey of the keep, and she paused and asked, "Who are you, to think you could hinder me?"
"My name is Commander Albrecht Ross. The city is my responsibility, and I have come to ask your intentions."
"I have come for the template. I will have him. Volai Hart will surrender him to me, or perish."
"Vicereine Hart is already dead. As I said, the city is my responsibility."
"Did you slay Volai?" the dragon asked, her curiosity piqued.
"No."
"Who, then? She was the only one here who might have given me trouble."
Commander Ross gave her a long look, then replied, "The template killed her."
Asturial's vivid memory of the template's surprising speed and inexplicable power caused her to give the lion man a slight nod as she said, "I believe this. Nevertheless, I will have him. Now."
"I'm not here to stop you, only to ask that before you tear up my keep, you come pay your respects to the Vicereine's remains."
"I have no respect for her remains."
Ross showed his teeth as he said, "That's because you haven't seen them. Would you do me the honor of accompanying me? The template is inside waiting for us in any case. He is ready for you."
The dragon smiled, though with a full-faced helm she knew he could not see the gesture. She said, "You make it sound as though he still intends to oppose me."
Commander Ross shrugged and said, "I asked him his intentions after it was explained to him that you would return. He said, and I quote, 'That depends on her.' If you'll follow me, please."
As he turned to walk away, the dragon expanded her senses. There were easily a hundred people in the windows and on the walls around her, intensely focused on her. She did not believe they would be a problem, but it interested her to know that so many were watching.
"Are these people intending to oppose me?" she asked as they ascended the brief mezzanine fronting the double doors that led into the keep proper.
"No one in my garrison will lift a finger against you. No matter what happens between you and the template, I would like to keep Florence out of it. Yesterday was a response to your surprise landing on the wall. The garrison responded without direct orders to the contrary."
"Foolishness, to fire on a dragon in any case," Asturial declared.
Commander Ross paused and half turned to look at her as he said, "It is an instinct to protect one's home, milady dragon. Even ants will swarm an offending boot, no matter that they cannot pierce the leather."
She hesitated, rolling her head from side to side thoughtfully before she allowed the point. "Well-spoken, Commander. I am not without some concern for the lesser races. My presence here in this form should be adequate proof of that. Lead on."
Not to mention this city tithes to me. I would be loath to lose that benefit. If this Commander Ross is newly installed as the city's regent, I will have to ensure he knows and will uphold the bargain I struck with his predecessor.
He turned and strode away, leading her down well-lit yet — to all appearances — abandoned hallways. At the last he stopped before a double door of dark mahogany with intricate engravings. He turned to face her and bowed deeply, holding the posture as he said, "What happens beyond this point is no fault of mine, nor of Florence. Please consider this, before you wreak havoc on my city. I have done all I can. I beg you: no matter what happens next, spare my people."
"Raise your head, Commander."
He did so. She reached up and removed her helm, revealing the face and wild red hair that she found most pleasing when sculpting her proxies. She had often been complimented on the contrast of symmetry and disorder, when she chose to use a flesh puppet to deal with lesser beings. She asked, "You honestly believe this template will give me further trouble?"
The lion man hesitated briefly, then said, "Yes."
"He simply does not know what a dragon is capable of," she scoffed, but Ross shook his head.
"It isn't that he doesn't know," the man said quietly. "It's that — to him — it honestly doesn't matter."
"Is he a fool?" she asked.
Ross shrugged, but did not speak.
Asturial was intensely aware of her own extraordinary might, and the difference in power between herself and most mortals. Her first impulse was to presume this template simply didn't understand, but she considered herself to be intelligent as well as mighty and she had not expected even the least of her proxies to be destroyed. The surprise seemed to warrant her curiosity, so she asked, "Is there anything else you'd like to tell me?"
Commander Ross hesitated, one hand on the door. His ears flickered backward to hide themselves in his mane, but at length he met the dragon's eyes and said, "Don't threaten anyone. Volai tried that and, well, you'll see."
What a strange thing to say to an armed and armored dragon proxy.
"I'll bear what you've said in mind, Commander. Now open that door and let me pass."
"Good luck, milady dragon."
And that, if anything, was even stranger.
With that, the lion man opened one of the two doors and stood just inside as she passed, then to her mild surprise he closed it behind her, leaving himself out in the hall.
The room she found herself in was no doubt meant to be impressive. It was broad and a colonnade marched down the length of the space toward a raised dais on which sat an ornate throne. Red carpet lined the center of the room, flanked by braziers, most of which had been banked and now shed little light. The exceptions were the two braziers directly in front of the throne. These were brightly lit, and revealed a strange tableau as Asturial walked the length of the throne room.
She had been here more than a few times, for Volai Hart not only had a tithing arrangement with her, she had on occasion provided Astur company, be that drink, conversation, games of chance, or sensual dalliance. The great naga had been intelligent and generally good company.
Now she is stone.
It was obvious at a glance that the statue mounted in the throne was the great naga herself. Her two left hands still held the Rod of the Heart, and the magical pulse normal for the staff was notably absent. Her slime familiar, always before seen posing as a sarong about her hips, was gone, but the rest of her jewels and ostentation remained on her statue.
The template himself stood at the foot of the dais, arms folded across a broad chest, waiting for her. He wore a simple, undyed woolen peasant's shirt, untucked, and canvas pants cuffed over well-made boots. The missing blood devil was there as a red silk sash around his waist. His black hair was ragged but short on top, and cut for what she felt must be martial advantage. As she stopped some ten feet from him she noticed a star-shaped scar just between his gray-green eyes.
He hadn't yet spoken, and she briefly thought he was the only person in the room, but after a moment she picked out inconsistencies in his shadow and noticed that someone was standing behind him. That person was significantly smaller than he, but the presence of such a one was no cause for concern. The dryad's mask, a magic of which the dragon knew, must have been given to this person.
I should allow the charade to continue as though I do not know. Whoever it is must be some form of protector.
Asturial cocked her head slightly, and listened. She could hear the hard, fast heartbeat of the template, but also several other beats, and heavy breathing. Her ears were elfin in this form and very sharp. The heartbeat coming from just behind the template was the only one of the four she could make out that seemed steady. That struck her as amusing, and further confirmed the unknown agent's role as a bodyguard.
The template's expression didn't change as he said, "I know what you want, but your methods don't exactly thrill me."
"My name is Asturial," the dragon went on, ignoring his comment. "You may call me Astur if it pleases you to do so. I am not interested in lofty titles. May I have your name?"
"Terrence Mack. I usually go by Terry."
Astur's lips twitched slightly in a smirk. "Terrence? It is an interesting name, one you seem destined to imbue with fame as time passes. You surprised me yesterday."
His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing further, and Astur felt it necessary to stifle her rising irritation. She said, "Very well, let us set small talk aside. You know what I want. What is it that you want, Terry?"
The question seemed to catch him somewhat off-guard, but after a moment's hesitation he said, "I want you to compensate the family of the guard you killed yesterday, and then leave Florence and its people unharmed when you go."
"Guard?" She tilted her head in genuine confusion.
"The man you used to batter down my door did not survive," the template said quietly. "His life cannot be restored, but he had family. You owe them a debt you can't ever completely repay, but at the least you should ask their forgiveness and ensure they have the means to look after themselves."
"This does not make sense to me, Terry," Astur said. "Just to be clear: you are asking me to remunerate the family of a creature who died failing to do his duty? What would I gain from such an act?"
"You asked me what I wanted. I told you," the template said, his voice still flat and hostile.
She pondered her reply for a moment, genuinely baffled by the man's request. At length she asked, "Would this act garner me the opportunity to bond with you?"
"Unlikely," he said. "I'm not in the habit of giving murderers who beat down my door what they want."
"Murderer?" she asked. "I did not intend to kill this person. I simply wished both him and the door out of my way, and chose the most expedient method to accomplish my desire."
"The fact that it was casual only makes it worse. Compensate his family, then leave."
She frowned and considered her options. She'd been warned not to threaten anyone and for the sake of simplicity had decided to heed that advice, but this template was making things needlessly complicated. Lesser beings were of no consequence, yet she felt if she was to have any hope of voluntary congress with this template, she must play his silly games.
I have waited so long for the opportunity to have a clutch of my own, and here is my opportunity. Templates are fragile; I must not risk accidental harm to him in the confrontation that may result if I show impatience now. He has already demonstrated willingness to fight me himself, and I am lucky that he survived his foolish assault yesterday.
"Very well. Where is this person's family, that I might approach them and determine adequate compensation?" she asked.
Terry blinked, clearly surprised by her acquiescence, then said, "Talk to Captain ... Commander Ross. He will know."
"May I presume another audience will be forthcoming once I settle this business?"
She was not accustomed to reading the expressions of mortals, and his were slight, but she had noticed that his heart had steadied in its beat.
He has calmed. All I need to do is demonstrate compliance, and I will make progress. This may be annoying, but I have ample time. He cannot fail to see the advantages of a bond with one such as I. I need simply play to his twisted morality. As a mortal himself, I should not be surprised that he does not understand just how inconsequential these others are.
"I'll speak with you again, but I make no further promises. I still would prefer you to simply leave."
She nodded, trying to appear reasonable as she said, "I approached you in the wrong way, but I assure you my intentions are not malign. I am unaccustomed to dealing with mortals, and I will make restitution where appropriate for my mistakes. My war-like appearance yesterday was simply to ensure I had the opportunity to meet with you. Volai had a habit of hiding things from me when she knew I was coming. I had no intention again today to attempt to remove you by force."
Hopefully templates are not scryers, and this one has no one with that ability in his employ. Lying so is a calculated risk. If I simply told him I'd changed my mind as a matter of overall convenience, who knows what the volatile creature might do.
Astur glanced from the unsmiling template to the stone figure on the throne behind him, and pondered the implications for a moment.
This template, or someone in his retinue, has some way to turn even powerful casters and eldritch to stone. It is fortunate the fool does not realize how truly resistant to magic a prepared dragon proxy is. There is no way such a broadly applicable spell would work on me. As long as he does not possess my true name, I am safe.
She offered a slight smirk and said, "I will handle this unfortunate business, then return. I look forward to discussing more ... joyful matters, in our next meeting."
As she strode back toward the distant mahogany doors, she bellowed, "Commander Ross! I would speak with you!"
One of the doors opened, and she passed through it without slowing as she said, "Tell me about this guard that I apparently slew yesterday ..."
8
Some Things Can't Be Taught
As soon as the mahogany doors shut behind the dragon lady, Terry sagged down into a seat on the lowest step.
"So what do you think of her?" Laina asked as she stepped into view along with Shy. The two crossed the space from the edge of the hall where they'd hidden themselves to watch the meeting, and stood before him. Shy looked curious, Laina concerned.
Terry shook his head and said, "Her scent was faint, and almost completely buried under the smell of oil and polish. Her armor stopped me getting a read. She doesn't have much in the way of facial expressions either."
Shy nodded and glanced down the length of the darkened room after the departed figure as she said, "Dragon proxies are creations of flesh and blood, but they are impermanent. That the woman we saw looks like the one you killed yesterday only tells us that she has preferences when it comes to how she makes her puppets, but that is all what you just saw is — a puppet. You must presume that everything you saw was deliberately shown to you."
"She didn't show me much," Terry muttered. "I'll admit, I expected that to go just as badly as yesterday."
Euryale folded herself onto the step just above and behind him, and leaned against his back, but said nothing. She'd been almost disturbingly quiet since yesterday, but at the moment Terry had larger concerns ... dragon-sized concerns.
I swear no matter how this wraps I'm getting the HELL out of here before some other monster shows up.
"Astur is clearly made of sterner stuff than Volai. She will be patient, and give you whatever you ask for," Shy said, looking toward the closed doors. "I would seriously consider granting her request, if I were you."
"She didn't seem like she was terribly interested in joining us," Terry said. "There's no point if I can't use the one bit of leverage I have to grow our forces. If she really is willing to give me what I want, then I should make sure she's willing to help us against the zone before I give her anything in return."
"You didn't ask her if she'd be willing to join us," Laina pointed out. "If she really does make restitution to Vaktosh's family, I think you should make the offer."
Terry nodded. He didn't like it, but he'd been genuinely surprised at the seeming about-face in attitude. The dragon seemed to want to do things 'the right way.'
If there is such a thing.
"So are we just going to sit here and wait?" Euryale asked. Her voice was low and desultory, and Terry cocked his head back in an effort to look at her. He came face to face with one of her snakes, and it tickled the bridge of his nose with its tongue.
"Are you still mad at me?" he asked.
"Not really. Being mad at you for being w
ho you are is silly. I'm just afraid for you. Dragons are really, really powerful. I could kill her easily enough, but it would be even easier for her to kill you before you have time to give me permission to handle things. If she strikes first ... I won't be able to save you. I want you to send me to kill her, now, before it's too late. I will go find her true body and turn her to stone. Then you will be safe ... at least for a little while."
He thought about it, then asked, "If you turn the main body to stone, what happens to the proxy?"
He felt Euryale shrug as she said, "Doesn't matter."
He glanced at Shy, who said, "Dragons are not the only creatures on Celestine too large to breed with templates in their normal forms. Most of them can create proxies — golems made of their own flesh and blood — to hold their will and act for them in situations that call for a lighter touch. If you destroy the main body, I suspect the dragon will become permanently invested in her golem. Instead of crafting a proxy, she will have to build a new dragon body from scratch. It will take her ... a long time, to recover."
"But it won't kill her?" he asked.
"Probably not, but I wouldn't swear to it. I'm not a dragon. I'm just giving you what I know based on second-hand knowledge of research that was conducted at the university where I once made my home. Dragons, as you may imagine, aren't keen on giving up their secrets."
Terry glanced back at the snake. It tilted its head to look at him, and he said, "Tell you what. If things get messy, I'll try and arrange to get you a meeting with the real deal. Still, be careful. Unless she's way dumber than I'm willing to assume she is, she now knows I have the power to turn people to stone, somehow. If she finds out you're the cause, we'll have lost advantage. Save your power for the full body. This proxy of hers?"