Dragon Rule

by E. E. Knight

  “Oh, I am bringing in a few gardeners and such to help with the feast, seeing as we have visitors of distinction. Usually I’m only attended by a dozen or so.”

  NoFhyriticus discussed matters in Hypat intelligently enough as they dined. He was even aware of trouble in the north from the barbarians and recent Ironrider raids on Wallander, though King Naf of Dairuss and his Protectors had driven them off.

  Ripe young human females dressed in the sheerest of fabrics began a vigorous dance to a band of musicians playing in a high alcove. Once hot and puffing, they reached for elegantly shaped vases and began pouring warm streams of oil on each other’s bodies as they moved. The smell of the runoff filled the room.

  “The dance is entertaining enough—you can’t fault these humans for their flexibility, but the sweat on their adornments and in the oils makes for a pleasant atmosphere.”

  “I’m sure you can afford the best dancers in Hypatia.”

  “Only when my Tyr visits. Otherwise I enjoy the simple life.” He let out a long belch.

  “Where did you get all this coin?”

  “The Ironriders attacked another caravan, and that young dragonelle Protector of yours, oh, in those mountains with the blighters—Ulam, no, Uldam is it?”

  “Istach,” the Copper said, growing animated. “I expect great things from Uldam. It’s rich in cattle. It will make a good bulwark against the eastern kingdoms and the principalities on the Sunstruck Sea.”

  “Well, for now she did a fine job chasing the Ironriders away. The merchant prince of the Silkway gave me a partial share of the proceeds in thanks. Silks are much in demand with all the wealthier daughters of Hypatia, and the summer festival season is coming up. He had some never-before-seen colors that commanded fantastic prices.”

  “That’s humans for you,” the Copper said, taking another tongueful of gold. “Wasting their gold on frippery. They should buy a few more sword-arms to see off the Ironriders, rather than dressing their daughters like market dancers.”

  “We can’t just have our Protectors taking what they want,” Wistala said. “It causes resentment.”

  “Wistala,” the Copper said, “the more the Hypatians prosper, the more we will. Their achievements of late are largely thanks to the dragon half of the grand alliance.”

  “Still, we should be modest in what we consider our due,” Wistala said.

  The Copper waved away another platter of food. Wistala thought the bearers looked underfed: What cruelty it must be to carry such a weight of meat with your own belly empty. “We have to give them a generation to get used to us. Maybe two generations. What is that, thirty summers up there, or thirty-five?”

  “About that, my Tyr,” NoFhyriticus said. “Yes, Hypatia is growing rich again. The Princedoms of the Sunstruck Sea are sending their sons to Hypatia to learn at its libraries. Its fishing and trading fleets sail the Inland Ocean uncontested—and if that great canal ever gets cut, they’ll reach the wild western sea. Hypatian halls supporting Hypatian couriers and Knights of the Directory could be built even in the far north again, if you’d encourage it. You’ve inaugurated a blessed age.”

  “It’s important that the Hypatians thrive,” the Copper said. “They need to know their position in the world depends on dragons. Thanks to dragons Hypatian messages travel faster than their enemies, their armies can reach farther, their wrath felt even in the great east, if it should come to that. They will grow dependent on us, and eventually we’ll have a vast nation of thralls to do our bidding.”

  Wistala would have dropped a scale in shock.

  “But what about all this talk of the Grand Alliance. Allies should be equals,” Wistala said.

  NoFhyriticus chuckled. “You told me your sister was fond of the hominids, but I had no idea. Wistala, smell the facts: No two allies were ever equal. Sun and moon, horse and rider, frog and lily pad—each may benefit from the association, but there’s no equality to it. Hominids must remain below dragons, or we’ll just begin to dwindle again. We can’t outbreed them, and outwitting them by hiding only works for so long. We must groom a few of them to exist only at our sufferance, like the Tyr’s legion or his bats.”

  The Copper sipped a little wine. “We’ll start small, of course. Ceremonial tributes are already common. Soon we’ll start asking for regular fees from the great merchant houses. The ones who pay will enjoy our protection and see their non-Hypatian rivals pillaged. The ones who don’t pay—well, ships may be lost to mysterious circumstances, or caravans will find their dragon-protection suddenly called away in the middle of the Ironriders Sweep. Capricious fate will teach them the caution of buying our close assistance.

  “Before long only those who pay the Dragon’s Levy will see success. Once we have them used to paying levies, we can then see some of that wealth diverted to the Lavadome and the Protector’s resorts.”

  “It seems more than enough has already gone into this resort. Greed kills, NoFhyriticus. Well, if this is the future you have in mind, I want no part of it,” Wistala said, bristling.

  “Wistala, settle down,” NoFhyriticus said. “After dinner we’re to see some new trade goods brought over from the western side of the Inland Ocean. The humans there have discovered rich new quantities of gold and gemstones.”

  The announcement thralls began voicing a new arrival. Yefkoa of the Firemaids came in, following the tail of the Protector’s assistant.

  It appeared after-dinner plans would have to wait.

  “My Tyr,” she panted—Wistala thought that Yefkoa always flew as hard as she could to maintain her reputation. “Ayafeeia bids me tell you that NiVom’s come into the Lavadome. AuRon is with him. He’s been meeting with the leaders of the seven hills and been to Imperial Rock. She fears something is amiss.”

  Chapter 17

  The Copper, flying hard across the Lavadome with Shadowcatch and Wistala behind, had no idea which way he’d jump until he landed.

  They arrived late, with the Lavadome asleep and the oval at the peak of the dome dark. Perhaps it was his overactive imagination, but the Lavadome seemed hushed, holding its breath. Usually a young dragon or two was up flying.

  On the one sii, if Ayafeeia and Yefkoa were telling the truth, he’d just put his mate’s life in jeopardy. But NiVom wondered if his brother could be playing some sort of deep game, trying to sow division between the Tyr and his Protectors. Or make him look like a paranoid fool.

  He hoped it wouldn’t come to fighting. First, he’d assemble the Aerial Host. Then he’d replace a few of his Protectors with loyal members of the Host.

  He found himself hoping his brother was as nefarious as he thought him. He wouldn’t mind settling things once and for all with the Gray Rat.

  “Come with me, you two,” he said. “By the spirits, I hope you’re wrong.”

  Wistala and Shadowcatch followed behind as he wobbled his way toward the Tyr’s hall. He descended into Imperial Rock.

  The Griffaran Guard, who should have been waiting above the Tyr’s door, was absent.

  “NoSohoth!” he called as he went inside. “Where is everyone?” Even CoThathanagar, who was always lurking about looking for a new commission for a friend or relative, had vanished.

  He found NoSohoth in the throne room. NiVom, his scales shining white, stood under four griffaran with several of the court dragons, including LaDibar of the Ankelenes, BaMelphistran of the Aerial Host, and a couple of the Skotl and Wyrr patriarchs. His brother stood a ways apart, warily eyeing the griffaran. A few of NiVom’s dreadful gargoyles occupied a Griffaran Guard perch as well, clinging to each other with claws and wing hooks in an ugly ball.

  “I represent an alliance of my own,” NiVom said. “There are some dozen of us, Protectors all, who believe your rule has grown rather—erratic of late. There’s a rumor going around that you mean to groom AuRon’s daughter Istach to take your place. We won’t have it. Many of the dragons left in the Lavadome agree.”

  “We’ll see. Call the Aerial Host,” t
he Copper ordered.

  BaMelphistran stood still.

  “You just lost your leadership and your good name, NoSohoth! Send for AuSurath.”

  No messenger moved. The Griffaran Guard stood still, without an actual attack on the Tyr’s life requiring action, they had no reason to become a part of the conflict.

  The Copper felt a brief dizziness, as though the polished stone beneath his feet had suddenly fallen away and he was suspended in space. He lashed his tail to keep from fainting.

  “It’s already too late,” NiVom said.

  “Meaning?” the Copper asked.

  “We’ve just recognized a new Tyr.”

  Behind him, the Copper heard Shadowcatch’s teeth grinding louder than ever.

  “You, I suppose,” Wistala said.

  “No, I’ve no ambition to sit atop Imperial Rock. The twins, SiHazathant and Regalia. They’re handsome, popular, and performed heroically during the Wheel of Fire attack. Best of all, they’re of Tyr FeHazathant’s blood. They’re consulting with Ibidio now on which Protectors are backing them. Most of them are.”

  “Even Istach of Old Uldam?” the Copper asked.

  “Yes.”

  Well, it’s the smart move, the Copper thought. Istach would do the smart thing.

  “What about you, brother?” the Copper asked AuRon.

  His brother looked from the NiVom’s group of dragons to the Copper’s.

  “To tell the truth,” AuRon said, “I’m indifferent to who sits on top of this dank rock. But I don’t care for how this is being done—threats of bloodshed, meetings in the dead of night, everyone waking to find a new Tyr in place. Even my barbarian tribal neighbors in the north would call it rotten. Suppose we gathered all the dragons of the Alliance and put it to them?”

  “That sort of thing was tried before, in the age of Silverhigh,” LaDibar said. “The dragons just selected whichever demagogue promised them the most coin for their gold-gizzards.”

  “Most of the dragons in the Lavadome can’t be trusted with their own waste,” NoSohoth said. “It’s up to the leaders to decide, dragons with responsibility and foresight.”

  “You, too, NoSohoth?” the Copper asked.

  “I am not following one faction or the other, RuGaard. I’ve always served whomever is named Tyr, to the best of my ability.”

  AuRon snorted, then ambled over to stand beside his sister, behind the Copper.

  “I’m with you, my Tyr,” he said.

  “We can’t do this again,” an elderly Wyrr leader behind NiVom said. “Civil war. I lived through one, just in my youth. Smashed eggs, bodies strewn across the hills, starvation. It’s horrible. Spare us that, RuGaard. You’ll be remembered as one of the great Tyrs who knew when to step aside.”

  NiVom stepped forward. “It’s up to you, RuGaard.”

  “Why are you pressing for this, NiVom? I thought you wanted to be Tyr.”

  “We’ve worked out a new structure for the Dragon Empire. The Tyr is to remain in the Lavadome, the heart of the Empire. I’ll take charge of the Protectors in the Upper World. Right now the Protectors are badly coordinated, each is acting for his own interests and those of his lands, rather than for the Empire as a whole. That’s going to stop. I say again, what will it be? Civil war? You’ll have the weaker side.”

  “I’ll have the Firemaids,” the Copper said. “Ayafeeia warned me of this plot.”

  “The Aerial Host will side with the twins,” BaMelphistran said.

  “Then there’s an alternative?”

  “I’ll give you the same one you gave me, all those years ago. Flight. Leave the limits of the Dragon Empire and never return, or you’ll forfeit your life.”

  “Then try to kill me and be done with it,” the Copper said. “I’m not leaving my dragons. I know there are some still loyal to me.”

  “Not only will your life be forfeited, but so will your mate’s.”

  “Nilrasha! She’s not a threat to anyone. She plays a part in no faction”

  “Save your dwindling one.”

  “I’ll stand by him.”

  AuRon could never say why he spoke up thus. Years later, when asked, he simply replied that the words were out before he knew he had said them.

  SiHazathant and Regalia entered the Audience Chamber from the Tyr’s door. A more perfectly matched set of dragons would be hard to imagine—their red and green became deeper and more brilliant the closer they stood.

  “All hail, Tyr SiHazathant and Queen Regalia,” NoSohoth said.

  NiVom’s faction roared, the Copper’s stayed silent and still.

  “I’m glad to see you here, RuGaard,” SiHazathant said.

  “We’ve no wish to be enemies,” Regalia added. “You’ve done great things for dragonkind. But your hearts and mind are only half in the Lavadome. Your care for your mate does you honor, but a Tyr must devote himself to all dragons, not just one.”

  “Will you recognize me as your Tyr, RuGaard?” SiHazathant said, getting to the point in the manner of old FeHazathant.

  “I will not fight you,” the Copper said, tiredly. “Just let me return to Nilrasha. She deserves better than this. She sacrificed her wings for our cause.”

  “So it is to be exile,” Regalia said. “Very well, go in peace. Who goes with you?”

  “And I,” said AuRon.

  “But your mate—” SiHazathant said, looking at NiVom in doubt.

  “Natasatch is one of the Protectors backing you,” NiVom said. “She wishes to remain in her position as Protector.”

  “It will be a bitter exile for both of you, AuRon,” NoSohoth said.

  “Natasatch is perfectly capable of acting as Protector of Dairuss. Perhaps better, for she’s an armored dragon. One well-placed Ironrider arrow would slay me.”

  “We’ll allow her to visit you on your island now and again,” NiVom said. “But if you insist on not recognizing SiHazathant as Tyr, you must not be allowed to return to the Empire.

  “My Tyr must have his bodyguard,” Shadowcatch said, heavily. But then he did everything heavily. “I shall follow Tyr RuGaard wherever he goes.”

  “I will go with Tyr RuGaard as well,” Wistala said.

  For the first time, NiVom looked doubtful. “You’re leaving as well, Wistala?”

  “I’m his Queen-Consort.”

  “That’s an informal tradition. There’s no need for you to leave.”

  “Other than the duty I owe my brother. I abandoned him to his fate once. I won’t do it again.”

  “Very well. The banishment applies to you, as well, then.”

  “I am a Hypatian citizen by position,” Wistala said. “I’m not sure you can banish me from Hypatia. But I take it I am free of my oaths to the Firemaids?” Wistala asked.

  “That is for you to resolve with your conscience.”

  “I’ll not wait here,” the Copper said. “I hope you enjoy a quieter reign than I did, SiHazathant.”

  “Thank you, RuGaard. BaMelphistran, see to it that he leaves in safety and security, and is supplied with whatever he wants that will aid him on his journey. Do this if you value your position as head of the Aerial Host.”

  The Copper took one last look at the Audience Chamber, full of banners won in victories. He’d been at many of those battles. He’d miss the clucks and squawks of griffaran over him.

  “Why did you join me?” he asked AuRon as they returned to the plaza atop the Imperial Rock to take off.

  AuRon blinked. “It’s one way out of your crossbreeding of human and dragon society. I now have an excellent excuse never to return.”

  “What about your mate?”

  AuRon shifted his feet, as though trying to decide what to say. “She has a tooth for this sort of life. It’s not for me. She thinks of the Alliance as her home, not my island.”

  “It looks like your island will have to do for me. And Nilrasha, though she’ll have to make the journey on foot. If you’ll have us, that is.”

  “You may find it quiet
, after the Lavadome.”

  “I should very much like a little quiet. Let’s get a mouthful before we take off. I want to get to my mate’s cave before the news of this reaches her.”

  Chapter 18

  To the Copper, AuRon was entirely too cheerful about leaving the Lavadome.

  NiVom, with his gargoyle escort, relished watching him fly into ignominity, flapping along with the artificial joint doing its job—just.

  They took the swiftest exit they could, the south door, even if it meant a longer flight north to Nilrasha’s eyrie.

  The lands they flew over, the rough terrain south of Ghioz, made for poor eating. Nothing but thorn and cactus and foul mudholes. Game was scarce and the journey slow until they reached the Horsedowns.

  Men here were scarce, tribal, and what there were more or less worshiped the dragons. They happily let the dragons eat horses and ponies.

  Their escort fed themselves on wild horses, and allowed the exiles only their scraps. AuSurath proved his loyalty to the Lavadome by only giving them what dragons usually considered offal.

  While AuRon was too proud to ask his son for more, Wistala was under no such obligation to go. “You expect us to fly on gristle and hooves, nephew?” Wistala asked.

  “The loss of a few pounds will do you good,” AuSurath replied.

  Finally Shadowcatch, irritable because of all the flying, ambled over and picked up a horse half and glared at their escort, daring them to do anything about it. The Copper ate a few bits as a polite thank-you, but had no appetite. Even the juicy horse tasted like ash.

  Nilrasha’s eyrie no longer looked picturesque and cozy. If anything, it seemed horribly remote and lonely. Anything could happen to his mate here, far from witnesses.

  She had a visitor, although it wasn’t one of her favorites. Old Ibidio, mother to Halaflora and Imfamnia and Ayafeeia, leader of the Firemaids. The old battle-ax never thought the Copper and Nilrasha were worthy to dwell in Imperial Rock, let alone preside over it.

  Nilrasha looked worried and haggard. Entertaining Ibidio for who knows how long had taken its toll. Did she know?

  “My love, you arrive with quite a procession. I don’t think my refuge will hold them all,” Nilrasha said.