Dragon Rule

by E. E. Knight

  “Yes, we believe Queen Nilrasha had her murdered,” Ibidio said. “If you loved Halaflora, as I’m sure you did, you would want to see justice done.”

  He had loved Halaflora. Despite her weak constitution, she’d devoted herself to being a proper mate when they lived and worked as upholders in Anaea. After the initial embarrassment of a shared life and even having a mate had faded, he’d found himself looking forward to the time they spent together, and missing her if his duties called him away for more than a day. Beyond that, he was deeply grateful to her. She’d been the first of his kind ever to be, well, proud of him and eager for his company.

  Murder!

  In the Lavadome there had always been two standards for killing another dragon. One was in a duel—an activity participated in more by males than females—a practice the Copper had tried to end, as the richer and more powerful dragons could hire professional Skotl duelists and thus always win disputes at little risk to themselves. There were few enough dragons and more than enough enemies without killing each other off over insults and livestock theft. But even now, duelists were frequently pardoned if the fight was fair and the grievance just, otherwise. Especially in the case of professional duelists, they were exiled to the surface—though not out of the Grand Alliance, so several still found useful employment aiding a Protector.

  The other was deliberate murder. The Griffaran Guard saw to it that murderers were torn to pieces. In the case of a dragon murdering a hatchling, the bodies weren’t even burned, they were fed to the Tyr’s Demen Legion.

  “We even considered charging her with the murder of a hatchling,” Ibidio said. “Halaflora was so sickly she might as well have been freshly hatched, and she believed herself with a bellyful of eggs when she was killed.”

  “I don’t accept her cause of death as murder. She choked. Nilrasha tried to save her. I was there, I saw her eating enthusiastically when she should have been downing her usual tiny bites. You might as well charge me with killing her as well, for she choked.”

  “We have witnesses who say otherwise.”

  “I see your goal, Ibidio. You’d like me to give up my position as Tyr. You’re using my mate as leverage.”

  “I always thought of you as an interim Tyr until others, more worthy, grew to dragonhood,” Ibidio said. “You’ve wrought great changes, my Tyr, but there will be consequences even the wisest of us cannot foresee. You’ve put dragonkind in jeopardy with this Grand Alliance. My mate and his father believed it best to deal with humans in secret, or by proxy, or under carefully selected circumstances such as the men of Anaea. Now you’ve bonded us to the Hypatians, a corrupt and fallen branch of mankind who’ve had its day and should have been washed away long ago by the tides of history.”

  Behind him as always, Shadowcatch began to grind his teeth. It’s a wonder they’re not dulled down to nubs, the Copper thought.

  Ibidio’s response sounded carefully prepared. He had wanted to throw Ibidio off the track with a counteraccusation, but though Ibidio was well into maturity, she evidently still had a sharp wit. Perhaps he should keep to the subject at hand.

  “We know you cared for your mate. There’s no thought that you have been involved,” Ibidio said. “But as her mother and therefore the most aggrieved, I and the Imperial Line want justice for Halaflora.”

  The Copper drew himself up. He realized that in only having three sound limbs he’d never be as impressive as others, but he could still raise his neck high. “Had she been murdered, I would have seen to it, and no witnesses or traditions or circumstances would have availed the guilty party. But it was an accident. She believed herself with eggs and ate ravenously. But her throat muscles weren’t up to her desire—she choked to death. I felt the bone in her throat myself.”

  “Perhaps it was stuffed down there,” LaDibar said.

  “Shadowcatch, our Ankelene has formed a theory. I would like to see it tested. Tear down one of those banners, break its staff and see if you can stuff it down his throat.”

  Shadowcatch reared up, removed a tattered banner from its bracket. One of the Griffaran Guard cackled in excitement.

  “My Tyr, I meant no offense,” LaDibar said.

  “Accusing my mate of murder will have that effect on me, LaDibar.”

  “Threats won’t save Nilrasha, my Tyr,” Ibidio said. “I demand that my witnesses be heard and judged.”

  “Produce them.”

  “I’d rather spare you and Nilrasha the agony and embarrassment. I offer an alternative,” Ibidio said. “Have Nilrasha fully resign the office of Queen. She may remain where she is, officially in exile. She’s unable to carry out her duties, anyway; your sister’s attempts to be Queen-Consort prove it.”

  Why would Ibidio settle for Nilrasha resigning as Queen?

  “Produce your witnesses,” the Copper said. “I should like to hear what they say.”

  “You’re in no position to judge the believability of our witnesses.”

  “But I’m Tyr. I’ve always determined—”

  “He should step aside,” Wistala said. “Let another question your witnesses. In Hypatia, there are men who do nothing but hear evidence and decide cases.”

  “Human customs need hardly concern us,” NoSohoth said.

  “Very well, if you object to me questioning them, perhaps NoSohoth would be willing to perform,” the Copper said.

  They settled on a date to hear the witnesses two days hence in the old dueling pit, now being called the Voicehall. The name for it came from the new tradition that the Tyr listened to the concerns of any dragon and held questionings of important messengers and decided the fates of those accused of crimes.

  While finishing perfectly ordinary business the next day, NoSohoth lingered in the passageway leading off from the Audience Chamber.

  “Are you concerned about the questioning, NoSohoth?” the Copper asked.

  NoSohoth raised a wing to shield their words from the curtains dividing the passageway from the Audience Chamber. “My Tyr, I would like nothing better than to see this whole matter go away. You have more important affairs to oversee. I hate to see my Tyr enmeshed in this sort of scab picking.”

  “I’ll rely on you to judge fairly.”

  “My Tyr, if you would allow a faithful old servant to speak his mind for a moment.”

  “Yes?”

  “Ever since your mate was injured, you’ve been away a great deal, and these old ears, tongue, and nostrils have been filled with managing problems as best as I can until you return to validate my decisions.”

  “I’m sorry, NoSohoth. You’re absolutely right.”

  “I’ve been serving the Imperial Line through all four Tyrs and before, when I stood guard atop the Imperial Rock during the civil wars. I am weary and need a rest, my Tyr. I was thinking of retiring to become a Protector and spend my remaining seasons sunning myself in the Upper World.”

  “Oh, of course. I should hate to lose your services. Perhaps Anaea, it’s sunny there and there’s only two busy times, at planting and harvest.”

  “I was thinking Hypatia, my Tyr. I understand the climate in the capital city is very mild.”

  Hypatia! The Copper wondered just how tired old NoSohoth was. He’d been skimming a percentage of much of the trade that came into the Lavadome for ages. His hoard must be fabulous, wherever it lay.

  “Hypatia. That’s not exactly a Protectorate to while away one’s time in the sun, you know. You’ll be at the heart of the Grand Alliance.”

  “And it is in the keeping of your friend NoFhyriticus. A dragon has a rare sense and even temper, I will admit.”

  “You have both those qualities as well, old friend.”

  “My Tyr flatters me.”

  The Copper could see the reason behind NoSohoth’s desire. A Protectorate as rich as Hypatia—he could fill his resort’s bathing pools with silver if he wished.

  “Don’t speak of flattery. You deserve it.”

  “I’ll train a replacement, of course.
I was thinking, perhaps, of devoting myself to selecting and training one to take my place after the hearing of this accusation of murder.”

  “You doubt their evidence?”

  “I’ve only heard rumors, my Tyr, but it strains credulity.”

  “You deserve a reward for all your services past.”

  “And future, my Tyr.”

  “Yes, and future. When we’ve put this ugly matter behind us you may begin your preparations for becoming a Protector.”

  “Of Hypatia, my Tyr?”

  “If that is what you want, that is what you shall have,” the Copper said.

  He wondered if he’d just outbid Ibidio in this contest for justice.

  It was impossible to sleep, impossible to think—the Copper wanted to fly to Nilrasha and tell her about the predicament, but the questioning would be over by the time he could return. He lurked in his chambers and bath, like SiMevolant of old, brooding. No wonder he was so dour and sought refuge in the aroma of sweat emanating from plump human females.

  Could he send a swift messenger to Nilrasha, seeking her advice? No, she’d tell him to sacrifice her to preserve his status as Tyr.

  It seemed unfair that she couldn’t answer the charges with her own voice.

  The arrangement with NoSohoth was cold comfort. Too much could go wrong. It may all depend on the digestion of the audience when the witnesses were heard. He’d have to see about sending some bullocks from the Tyr’s herd around to the principal hills.

  A thrall announced that his Queen-Consort wished to see him.

  “Very well, show her in.”

  He had no interest in listening to Wistala’s latest complaint about one of the Protectors taking too many cattle or making a meal out of a bronze statue.

  His sister entered, followed by Rayg. What was she doing with him?

  “My brother,” Wistala greeted him. “DharSii has returned. He’s trying to learn more about the crystal statue taken from the Red Queen.”

  His bats had told him that DharSii was in the Lavadome, mostly visiting with Wistala. As for that crystal. . .Rayg had been experimenting with the crystal for years. For all its size, it didn’t seem to do much. He’d done much better with the smaller jewel AuRon had brought into the Lavadome when he delivered the Queen’s ultimatum.

  DharSii wanted permission from him to descend with Rayg into the depths of the Lavadome, Wistala explained.

  “Unless he’s interested in a show of lights, I don’t understand what he thinks he can learn.”

  “I’ve been studying what happens to the lights when we try to interact with the crystal,” Rayg said.

  Interact? What, could a piece of stone live?

  He needed to get his mind off of the upcoming questioning. “I’ll come. I’d like to see what DharSii is up to with my own eyes. I hope the great dandy doesn’t mind getting his sii dirty.”

  “The Ankelenes are slowly coming around to my opinion,” Rayg said.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s easier if I show you.”

  They met DharSii outside, and the Copper waved off the usual formalities, though he did offer the visitor a mouthful of coin. DharSii declined.

  “I’d rather keep my thoughts clear.”

  They descended through Imperial Rock, down into the livestock pens and storage rooms, and finally to slippery chutes coated with waste from dragon, thrall, and livestock. The Copper hadn’t been this low in the Lavadome since learning the few passageways into the depths during his time in the Drakwatch. The only things that thrived in this noisome mess were worms and brightly glowing cave-moss. Thick masses of dwarfsbeard hung from the ceiling like hedges.

  Rayg led them through a series of dripping passages. Unpleasant waste pooled and reeked.

  They passed along a natural watercourse that churned the muck out of the Lavadome and down. Here they picked up a cleaner trail again.

  Then they came to sort of a twisting passage that dropped like a root, with a root’s branching divisions. Rayg, hanging on to a rope thrown around the Copper’s neck, stayed on his feet.

  The party began to see pieces of crystal running through the stones. Cavern increasingly gave way to crystal.

  “We’re on Anklemere’s old road,” Rayg said. “After he was killed, dragons took out his stairs to make room for us to pass.”

  They came to sort of an overlook. The Copper thought the cavern looked like an unusually angry sea, the whitecaps frozen forever into blue-white still life.

  Lights like tiny drifting jellyfish ran inside the crystal caps. The lights waxed, sparked, waned, and flickered out like fireflies dying in the time it took to draw a long breath.

  “What is this?” the Copper asked.

  “It looks like fairy fire,” DharSii said. “But brighter. We get it in the sky in the far north.”

  “It reminds me of stars,” Wistala said. “What is it?”

  “Not even the Ankelenes know,” Rayg said. “Some believe that this is where the heat from the Lavadome is channeled and dispersed, the way wet drips off a mammal’s fur.

  “I can tell you one more thing. These lights—they’ve become more active. They start and burn out faster, and there are more of them. According to the Ankelenes, the only variation before was when the lava was more active. They would burn brighter, longer.”

  “Magic?” the Copper asked.

  “Magic is a cheap explanation for the inexplicable,” Rayg said. “A dragon’s fire may seem magical to many humans, but it’s just an oil fire with a little sulfur mixed in. With a few more chemicals it’s difficult to identify, because they react so strongly to air.”

  “Rayg’s practical,” the Copper said.

  “Let me see him create dragonfire in his workshop,” DharSii said.

  Rayg pulled up a chain from his overshirt. The crystal AuRon had worn, an unfortunate “gift” from the Red Queen for his emissary duties to the Lavadome. It glowed behind a metal lattice, like a tiny owl in a miniature cage.

  “Why the bars?” DharSii asked.

  “If I let it touch my skin, I become—overexcited. I can’t sleep. Or even sit down. For a few minutes it’s exhilarating, especially when I’m working on a problem. An hour is exhausting. A day would drive me mad.”

  “What’s the longest you ever had it on?” the Copper asked.

  “Three days. I think. It could have been less. One of your bats found me on the floor of my workroom with my nose bleeding. After that, I quit touching the crystal except for a few minutes at a time, by putting a finger or two through these bars.”

  “They’re obviously connected,” Rayg said.

  “Similar material, similar structure. Similar origins?” Wistala asked.

  “I believe you’re right, Wistala,” DharSii said. “You have an Ankelene’s mind in a Skotl body with a Wyrr temperament.”

  Wistala’s scale rippled at the praise. The Copper remembered their mother’s scale rising and falling that way when Father spoke to her.

  He wondered. DharSii was a well-enough-formed dragon with a good mind, but he struck him as one interested only in his own affairs. He wasn’t likely to make much of a mate, nor would he, the Copper suspected, mate unless it were somehow to his advantage. Perhaps he did wish to return to a position of importance in the Lavadome. If that was all, the Copper couldn’t help but think less of him.

  “There are records of the Lavadome dating back to Anklemere. It may be older, we just have no proof. The crystal NooMoahk had in his library that the Red Queen seized goes back to the days of blighter dominance, if not before.”

  “I would suggest it’s an engine of some kind, but beyond anything we could possibly comprehend.”

  “Ever since the Red Queen sent NiVom, Imfamnia, and myself to retrieve the object the blighters call the ‘sun-shard’ I’ve been curious about what she thought it would do. NooMoahk’s library yielded some pieces of information.

  “I believe there are three important pieces to this enigma. One i
s the Lavadome entirely, the second is the sun-shard. The third is a smaller crystal. They might be compared to your body—the Lavadome is the muscular meat, the sun-shard is the heart, and the third is the mind.”

  “So where is the third?”

  “It went from Silverhigh to Scabia’s Sadda-Vale. From there, she told me that a dragon named AuNor took it. He was fond of looking into it—according to Scabia it gave some visions . . . others nightmares.”

  “AuNor!” Wistala said. “My father’s father?”

  “The same. He passed down the traditions of the Silverhigh Star to you and your brother . . . or at least he began to.”

  “What is the Silverhigh Star?”

  “Order of the Silverhigh Star, is the proper name,” DharSii said. “A league of dragons devoted to improving dragonkind and its place in the world. From good dragons, better was one of their sayings.”

  “I’ve never come across anything about an Order of the Silverhigh Star among the Ankelenes. Though I’ve limited my studies to the physical sciences, for the most part,” Rayg said.

  “Its influence was waning even before Silverhigh fell,” DharSii said. “Your mother sang one of its songs to her hatchlings.”

  “If you find your missing piece of the puzzle, what will you do with it?” the Copper asked.

  “Unite the pieces. Very carefully.”

  “So it will belong to the Lavadome.”

  “It belongs to all dragons, I believe,” DharSii said. “I would like to examine your home cave. With Wistala to guide me.”

  Home cave. Bitter words.

  “My home cave is the Lavadome,” the Copper said. “For now, it’s also Wistala’s. She has duties here.”

  “Let me try to change your mind,” DharSii said.

  “If there’s nothing more, Rayg, I will leave.”

  Rayg ignored him, staring at Wistala in thought.

  The Copper turned tail and began the long climb back to Imperial Rock. He heard Rayg’s quick footsteps behind.

  Wistala and DharSii lingered behind.

  Wistala couldn’t take her eyes off DharSii. He stood there amidst the fairy lights, looking as though he were standing in a thundershower of fireflies.