The left egg broke first, a claw grasping blindly out of the shell with silver light behind it. Then, on the right, a small reptilian head pushed through, slowly opened its eyelids to reveal wide eyes of sapphire blue. Instinctively, Kadka moved to help them, but Iskar restrained her.
“No,” he said. “They must do this for themselves.”
So she watched them work their way free, their movements uncertain and tenative—but somehow purposeful too, an intrinsic instinct passed down for centuries. In minutes, both were free, two dragonlings the size of large hounds. Fully extended, their necks would barely have reached above Kadka’s waist. They sat bewildered on the cavern floor, blinking at their surroundings. Bits of broken shell still clung to their silver scaled hides.
And now Iskar led her to them, gently picking a piece of shell from the head of one of his newborn siblings. It looked up at him, made a kind of keening whine in its throat. The other stumbled to his side, rubbed its neck against his leg to scrape away another stray shard.
Iskar stroked the ridges along the backs of their necks, and his voice trembled with emotion. “Welcome to the world, little ones.”
Kadka put her hand on his shoulder. “They are beautiful.” And they were, unsteady on their legs as newborn colts, silver hide gleaming in the dim magelight. As much as she had loved the stories of dragons her mother had told her when she was young, she had never dreamed that she would actually see one being born. Certainly not two of them.
At the sound of her voice, the dragonling on Iskar’s right turned to her, peered with wide eyes still growing accustomed to the light. It toddled toward her with that same crooning it had made for Iskar, rubbed its head against her hand. She knelt down. “Hello, tiny dragon. Is very good to meet you.” The dragon butted her playfully with its snout, and she laughed. “You are strong already. Will grow large, like your mother.”
The dragon answered with a contented noise in its throat, and lay down on the ground against her side. It lifted its head to its sibling with a kind of beckoning chirp, and Iskar led the other dragon over, then sat himself down beside Kadka. In moments, the two dragons were curled up against them, heads lying across their laps, fast asleep.
Stroking the necks of his newborn kin, Iskar turned to look at Kadka with a deep affection in his eyes. “Well,” he said, “I believe you have been adopted.”
_____
“Oh my,” Bastian said in awestruck tones as he fluttered down to land on Tane’s shoulder. “What a wonder.”
He’d come in with the rest of those who had stayed outside—they’d dealt with the remaining guards above. His men and the Silver Dawn agents had begun leading the freed prisoners from the cave. Tane and Indree stood with Tinga and Cestra, watching from a distance as Iskar and Kadka ministered to two newly hatched silver dragonlings. They’d all decided by unspoken agreement to give the newborns some space, but it was hard not to gawk as the first dragons born in centuries took their first breaths.
“It is, isn’t it?” Tane agreed. The dragons weren’t even doing anything much, just blinking large newly-formed eyes at the unfamiliar world they’d found themselves in, but somehow he couldn’t look away.
“They’re just so cute,” Cestra said with a delighted smile.
“Too cute.” Tinga shook her head in mock disapproval. “It’s disgusting.” She was a half-foot shorter than Cestra, but still it was the other girl who leaned against her, Tane noticed.
He understood. Tinga was small, but there was an undeniable strength about her. She’s the one who brought us all here, really.
“You know,” said Tane, voicing the thought aloud, “this is all because of you, Tinga. None of us would be standing here right now, including those dragons, if you hadn’t refused to stop looking for Cestra.”
Tinga ducked her head. “I didn’t actually do much. Mostly I just ran away from people and didn’t stop.”
“That’s the impressive part,” Tane said with a slight grin. “A lot of people were trying to stop you.” He turned to Cestra. “She never gave up on finding you. Not for a moment.”
Cestra’s pale, freckled cheeks flushed red. “I don’t know if I’m worth all that.”
“It wasn’t just you, Miss Full-of-herself,” Tinga teased. “There were other people to help too.” She squeezed her arm around Cestra’s waist and stretched up to kiss her on the cheek. “Anyway, you’re worth it to me.”
“Mister Carver is right, though, Miss Vreeg.” Iskar’s voice, drawing near. “My family owes you a great debt.” He and Kadka had left the little dragons curled up against one another, apparently asleep. Tane was mildly jealous—he felt like he hadn’t slept in days. “All of you have my deepest gratitude. My mother was not wrong—it has been a long time since so many came to the aid of dragonkind.”
Bastian was still eyeing the young dragons. “In return, I don’t suppose you would consider…”
Iskar shook his head firmly. “My siblings are not mine to give, Mister Dewglen. They belong to no one.”
“Ah, of course,” Bastian bobbed his head. “Quite right. Sentient beings.” A sudden, broad smile broke over his face. “And born on Audish soil! That makes them citizens, you know!” He puffed out his little chest. “Not every nation can boast that!”
“Quite an honor indeed,” Iskar said solemnly. “But I must ask you not to speak of this. Any of you. The world cannot know about them, not yet.” He glanced back at Thorpe; they’d bound her to the chair she’d used to hold her prisoners as she drained them. “There are others like her, who would find living dragons a very tempting prize. But I believe I can trust everyone here.” His sapphire eyes twinkled with slight amusement. “Even you, Bastian Dewglen. Criminal though you may be.”
“I’ll keep my mouth shut,” Tane agreed.
Tinga and Cestra both nodded. “I know most of the others who they took with me,” Cestra said. “I’ll ask them not to say anything.”
“And I can use some creative omissions in my report,” said Indree. “Even to Lady Abena. I need to account for the dead, but I can say that the fight was in the quarry. Maybe I got a tip that Thorpe was running experiments on the missing persons here. I’m just not sure she’ll keep quiet.” She tipped her head toward Thorpe, slumped unconscious in her chair. “And I have to take her in to custody. We need to know where all of her machines are—they’re too dangerous to let be.”
Iskar inclined his head. “Very well. There is no way to guarantee her silence without violence, and I… I am done with that.”
“For what it’s worth,” said Tane, “Thorpe will sound crazy if she starts talking about dragons from a prison cell. I don’t think anyone will believe her.”
“And maybe I convince her is best to stay quiet.” Kadka cracked her knuckles with implied menace.
Iskar smiled fondly at her. “If anyone can, it would be you. But you mustn’t harm her.” He dropped his eyes. “I have enough amends to make for those I hurt today.”
“Was to protect your family,” Kadka said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Is not something to be sorry for.”
“It wasn’t only Thorpe’s men.” Iskar’s voice was quiet, resigned. “I must hold myself accountable for both friends and enemies who died here. There is too much power in my blood to make excuses. I can never repay those who gave their lives fighting for my family, but I can rededicate myself to the path of peace. Which must include Felisa Thorpe, whatever she has done.”
“We shouldn’t have to hurt her,” said Indree. “Tane’s right. Without any official record to back her up, no one is going to listen. I just need to get to the egg she took before the Chief Inspector sends someone else poking around the manufactury. Which means I have to get moving soon. We should get the dead above ground.”
“Thank you, Inspector Lovial,” Iskar said. “I won’t keep you much longer. I will have my agents bring the fallen to the surface. But before you go—the tunnel from the quarry cannot remain open. I can find my way back
by other means, but that path is too easily seen. Your magic, and that of Mister Dewglen’s friends, could close the way.”
“I can do that,” said Indree.
“And of course my friends will help!” Bastian declared.
Tane gestured over his shoulder toward the entrance with one thumb. “Come on, then,” he said. “We’ve been down here long enough. I want to see if the sky is still up there.”
Chapter Twenty-six
_____
EARLY THE NEXT morning, Tane stood before a door in Stooketon marked with a brass plaque that read Lodestone Investigations. Simple and to the point, without a rearing griffon or terrible penny-dreadful name to be found.
Tane scowled. He didn’t want to be there, and particularly not alone—Kadka was busy helping Iskar acclimate to his new family situation. But there was unfinished business to attend to, so he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
He found himself in a small reception area, sparsely appointed but nice enough. Not exactly high-society living, but it rankled that there was more than one room at all. Tane had known Lefty took higher paying clients than he and Kadka did, but he didn’t like seeing the evidence.
A blonde haired gnomish woman sat behind the desk, and she looked up at him as he came in. “Do you have business with Mister Lodestone, sir?” she asked, although the arched eyebrow she cast over his well-worn clothes told him that she doubted he could afford it.
“I do,” said Tane. “Tell him Tane Carver is here to see him.”
The woman’s eyes glazed briefly, and then she nodded. “He’s free. Just through there.” She pointed at the door just past the desk, somewhat unnecessarily—there was nowhere else to go.
Tane strode through into the office. It wasn’t huge, but no smaller than his, even with the reception area outside. A work bench ran along one wall, strewn with tools and artifice parts, and a cabinet of filing drawers stood in the corner. At the center of the room was a large oaken desk, and Lefty Lodestone sat behind it, his coat slung over his chair. His false arm lay on the desktop, detached from his shoulder and surrounded in various tools; he was rubbing oil onto the pistons with a rag. When he saw Tane, he grunted in acknowledgment, but didn’t stop what he was doing.
“Carver. What do you want?” There was a slight challenge in the question.
“You know what,” Tane said bluntly. “I want a reason not to turn you in to the bluecaps for helping Thorpe.”
Lefty shrugged with one shoulder. “I do the job I’m hired for. This time it was to find the Vreeg girl. I don’t ask questions I don’t need the answers to.”
Tane shook his head. “Not good enough. You broke my restraints in Thorpe’s lab. Why? That wasn’t part of the job.”
“Only thing that was part of the job was finding her. Thorpe didn’t say nothing about being accomplice to murder.” Lefty smirked. “That costs extra.”
Tane studied him for a moment, and then, “I think you felt responsible. Tinga was too young for you to convince yourself you didn’t care. Same reason you saved those children from the fire when you were a bluecap. You’ve got a line you won’t cross, whatever you say.”
“Didn’t want to go down for something I ain’t been paid for. That’s all.” But Lefty scratched at the burn scar on his neck and broke eye contact there, re-applied himself to oiling the pistons on his detached arm.
“Right,” said Tane. “Just business. Except I don’t think potential customers would be thrilled to hear this story, would they?”
“Ain’t going to hear it.” Lefty glanced up once more, raised an eyebrow. “Wasn’t anyone there who’d tell, was there?”
He’s never going to give me the answer I want to hear. But maybe he’s already told me more than he meant to. The way Lefty had avoided Tane’s eyes when he’d asked about the fire could have been an answer in itself. Assuming my read on him is anywhere close to right.
There was no way to know for sure, but Tane made his decision. “No,” he said. “I don’t suppose there was.”
Lefty nodded. “Didn’t think so. That all?”
“Not quite,” said Tane. “You did save our lives. Technically. With the minimum possible effort. Even if it was you who handed us over to begin with, I suppose I should thank you for that.”
Lefty waved off the half-hearted gesture. “Keep it to yourself. Don’t go thinking I’m on your side, Carver. You’re the competition. I ain’t your friend.”
Tane snorted. “Don’t worry, I didn’t think you were. I don’t even know what being friends with you would look like. You’re not an easy man to like, Lefty.”
“You don’t know me. Maybe I’m swimming in friends. Just ain’t looking for new ones.” Lefty pointed over Tane’s shoulder. “There’s the door. I’m busy.”
“See you around, then,” said Tane. “Or not. That would be good too.” He turned, was reaching for the door when a sudden pressure filled his ears.
A sending.
Indree’s voice sounded in his head, urgent and commanding. “Tane. You and Kadka need to get to Stooketon Yard. We have a problem.”
_____
Kadka chuckled as the little dragon pounced on her, pinning her to the cavern floor. She made a show of wrestling back, playfully tapped the other dragonling on the snout when it nipped at her shoulder.
She still had the strength advantage, but not by much—it had only been a day, but both dragons were notably larger and stronger now. They’d been no bigger than dogs when they were born, and already they were more like Svernan wolves, their necks reaching closer to Kadka’s chest than her waist. And she could tell them apart now: the one wrestling with her was broader and heavier, with thicker ridges down the back; the one nipping at her shoulder had a more slender build, with taller, thinner ridges fanning down the spine.
Iskar laughed, watching. “Are you having fun? There will come a time when I have to teach them not to leap on people, you know.”
She rolled the young dragons off her and sat up, grinning at him. “Is just play. They are young yet. Can learn boring things later.”
Iskar sighed. “Not so much later as you might think.” He joined her on the floor, scratched both dragons under their chins. They crooned appreciatively. “Dragons mature quickly. Within the year, they will be asking questions I am not sure I can answer, and Mother will not be here to step in for me. I’ve spent years preparing for their birth, but little time on what would come after. I don’t know that I’m ready.”
Kadka put an arm around him. “You can do this. Have been showing people best things in themselves for longer than most have lived. And I will be here to help.” She grinned. “Could not keep me away from dragons if you want to.”
“That is a comfort,” Iskar said, with a slight smile. “But if I am going to justify your confidence, I cannot put off certain practicalities. They need names. I had thought to call one after my mother. Syllesk. A traditional draconic name, derived from Syllesia. I… thought you might have an idea for the other.”
Kadka considered a moment. “Boy or girl? Or… is different for dragons, yes?”
“It is,” Iskar said. “Some identify one way or the other, particularly if they spend time among the other sentient races and must choose a form to fit in, as my mother did. But the notion of male or female doesn’t inherently apply. And draconic names have no particular gender.”
“Then… maybe Nevka?” Kadka suggested. “Was my mother’s name. She always tells me stories of magic, and dragons most of all. Dragons were her favorite. Is because of her stories that I leave Sverna, come here. Meet Carver. And you.”
Iskar smiled. “A lovely name. It will do nicely.” He turned to the dragonlings. “But which is which? Do either of you feel like a Nevka?”
The heavier of the two little dragons nuzzled his hand—probably just reacting to the sound of his voice, but it was enough.
Kadka laughed. “Is decided, then.” She reached up to stroke the slender dragon’s neck. “And you are Syl
lesk.” The dragonling gave a purring keen in response to the attention.
“Well,” said Iskar, “that is one thing done, at least.”
“See? Is not so hard. Rest will come in time.” Kadka took his hand, moved in for a kiss.
A cough from behind interrupted her mid-lean.
“Bosh?” The lisp identified the speaker as Vladak. “Got some newsh you’ll want to hear.”
When Kadka turned to look, she saw Carver standing there too. He must have asked Vladak to show him the way—with the quarry route closed, the cavern was only accessible through a long, narrow passage at the end of a twisting maze of secret doors in the abandoned disc tunnels.
And he hated intruding on her more amorous moments with Iskar. He wouldn’t have come all that way without good reason.
Kadka jumped to her feet. “What is wrong?” She offered Iskar a hand, and he rose beside her.
“We need to get to Stooketon Yard,” said Carver. “I got a sending from Indree. Thorpe is dead.”
_____
“In here,” said Indree, and led them into the holding cells. “Quickly. If Durren gets wind I brought you in, we won’t have long.” She’d used Lady Abena’s name to get them past the uniformed constables outside—it helped that the Yard was in a furor, and no one seemed to know who was supposed to be where.
Tane saw the body as soon as he walked through the door. There was no missing it.
Three cells down, Felisa Thorpe was visible through the bars. A spike shaped like a crowned staff had been staked through her chest, pinning her against the back wall. Blood stained her rumpled white shirt, and her eyes were open, wide and sightless.
“Spellfire.” Tane winced. “She deserved some kind of punishment, but not like this.”
“How does this happen, surrounded in bluecaps?” Kadka frowned at the crowned staff jutting from Thorpe’s chest. “This spike…”
“The same as the ones the Mask used,” Indree confirmed. She unlocked the cell door and led them in. “I don’t know how it got so deep in the Yard, but here’s another familiar touch.” She took a handkerchief from her pocket, reached out, and twisted the crown at the head of the staff.
The Dragon Machine (Magebreakers Book 3) Page 19