Dragon Spawn

by Eileen Wilks

  “I’ll stay here,” Cynna said. When Rule looked at her, she grimaced. “I’m not being stubborn. At least I don’t think so. I have a feeling I should stay.”

  Rule hoped she was wrong. Normal rules didn’t apply to Rhejes, a fact Cynna enjoyed taking advantage of at times. He’d prefer this be one of those times, rather than a prompt she’d received from the Lady.

  The moment Cullen left with Ryder and Toby, Lily asked Sean, “How long has this guy been out of the country?”

  “Several years.”

  “Since he became an adult?” Lily persisted.

  “I, uh . . .”

  “Sean.” Rule looked at him. “Answer.”

  The man grimaced. “Yes. Leo got him away right after the gens compleo.”

  The gens compleo was the coming-of-age ceremony when a young lupus was brought fully into the mantle. “How many years ago was that?”

  “Five, I think. Something like that.”

  “You were there?”

  Sean nodded unhappily.

  “I take it the mantle accepted Mateo, and Victor didn’t kill him for failing to submit.” Both of which astonished Rule. Leidolf’s previous Rho, Victor Frey, had been a high dominant himself. He’d also been a narcissistic control freak who tolerated no whiff of dissent. “But how and why?”

  Sean shrugged. “I don’t know why Victor let him live. It’s not like Victor ever explained himself. Maybe it’s just that Leidolf doesn’t see high dominants the way other clans do. That’s what I’ve always heard, anyway—that the other clans kill their high dominants because their mantles won’t accept them. Is that true?”

  “Not exactly. If a young lupus is unable to accept the authority of the mantle, it usually means that the mantle can’t accept him. Not won’t, but can’t, so he either becomes a lone wolf or is killed. There have been exceptions. A friend of mine from Cynyr comes to mind, but he was—” Rule broke off, frowning. A car had pulled up out front. He heard the motor shut off, the door close . . .

  Lily was frowning, too. “I guess Ortiz was out of the country when all the clan members submitted to you, but shouldn’t Alex have told you about him?”

  “Yes.” Alex had some explaining to do. “Sean, you may answer the door.”

  Sean started for the door. A second later, the doorbell rang.

  “What are you going to do?” Lily asked.

  “Meet Mateo Ortiz.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “I don’t know,” he said curtly. Knowing what she wanted to ask, and hating the worry in her eyes. Worry he’d seen there too often lately, though his nadia was under the fond illusion she’d kept it to herself. Dammit, so what if he’d had a few bad dreams? That didn’t mean he was falling apart.

  He didn’t want to kill this man. If duty allowed, he wouldn’t. But duty could be a right monster at times.

  Sean announced their visitor and Rule stood. “Let him come in.”

  The man who entered was built short and square, as if he’d started out taller but had somehow been compressed into a shorter, broader version. Even his head had a squared-off look beneath close-cropped black hair. He wore old jeans with scuffed boots, a new brown T-shirt, and a small gold cross. His skin was warm and dark, his features a blend of mestizo and African. That came as no surprise. Mateo’s name was Spanish, suggesting that his mother was Mexican or Latin American, and his father would be considered black by the human culture.

  Mateo stopped several paces into the room. His eyes were very dark, heavily fringed with lashes. “You are Rule Turner?”

  The mantle in Rule’s gut stirred. It recognized this man. More than recognized—there was a draw, a sense that . . . ah. Yes. That explained some things. Rule nodded. “I am. This is my mate, Lily Yu”—he indicated her with a gesture—“and the Nokolai Rhej.”

  Mateo bent his head slightly in Lily’s general direction, then at Cynna. “I am honored to meet a Chosen and a Rhej.” His voice was deep and musical, the accent an odd but pleasant blend of Southern and Spanish.

  Lily had risen to her feet. “I prefer to be called Lily, and I don’t know if I’m glad to meet you or not. If what Sean told us is accurate, you didn’t come here to submit to your Rho.”

  “No.” Those dark eyes shifted back to Rule. He stood very stiff and erect. “Rho meus—voco y provoco!”

  “Shit,” Cynna said.

  “What did he say?” Lily demanded. “What did he just say?”

  Rule kept his feelings out of his voice. “He issued formal Challenge.”

  “Shit,” Lily said.

  * * *

  A FEW minutes later, they were all sitting at the kitchen table.

  Lily had not thought that asking Mateo to join them for coffee was an appropriate response. Mateo hadn’t, either, but after a pause he’d accepted—then balked when they reached the kitchen and Rule told him to have a seat. Rule had given him an annoyed glance as he pulled out his own chair. “I am your Rho. You may be determined to take my life—or to end your own, I’m not sure which—but you owe me courtesy.”

  The young man had chosen a chair on the other side of the table from Rule. He looked ready to leap up and defend himself at any moment, but at least he was seated.

  “Where have you been living?” Rule asked.

  “Guatemala. My mother’s people are Guatemalan.”

  “You’ve been there since the gens compleo? Thank you, Sean,” he added when Sean set a steaming mug in front of him. He hadn’t yet found a houseman or cook, so he’d asked Sean to make them a fresh pot of coffee. Normally he took care of such things himself, but at the moment he was being Rho.

  Mateo nodded.

  Sean distributed the other cups, managing to set down Cynna’s and Lily’s at the same time—a tricky matter of precedence there, with both a Rhej and a Chosen to serve—then Mateo’s. “Whose idea was this Challenge?”

  Mateo’s voice remained level. “I have Challenged. The Challenge was witnessed by others, even by a Rhej. Not our Rhej, perhaps, but a Rhej. You haven’t given formal response. You cannot—”

  “Clueo et accipio,” Rule said. I am named and accept. Not that he wanted to, but the pup was right about that much. He had no choice. “Did the idea to Challenge originate with you?”

  No response, other than a slight increase in the young man’s heart rate.

  “I didn’t think so. You’re not suicidal. Willing to die, perhaps, and weary of having to live apart from clan, but not truly suicidal. You can have no personal complaint of me, only what you’ve been told.”

  “I have heard enough.” Mateo leaned forward, his eyes blazing. “You do not put the clan first. Of all that may be asked of a Rho, that is the most fundamental—to put the clan first. And you have failed.”

  Mateo’s body language was a more direct challenge than his words. He reeked of seku, too. Rule’s lip lifted at that stink of dominance and aggression. Without conscious intention, he pulled on the mantle. “Sit back.”

  It had no effect. “You can’t force me to—”

  “You can’t be so ignorant you are unaware of what your body is saying. You are high dominant.” If he’d had any doubt, the mantle’s response—and Mateo’s lack of it—confirmed that. “You must know, better than most, how to keep from issuing challenge with every move you make. Unless you wish to be schooled in manners right now, you will sit back.”

  Mateo’s lip lifted, too. “Let us go outside now and see who is schooled! I have Challenged. You have accepted. What more is needed?”

  Rule wanted to. He didn’t intend to, but he wanted to leap on that insolent pup and teach him—

  “Mateo.” That was Lily, using her just-the-facts voice. “How old are you?”

  The young man blinked . . . and sat back. “Thirty-two, Chosen.”

  “Call me Lily. How many Challenges have
you personally witnessed?”

  “Only one, but I know of others, and—”

  “You know how Victor Frey responded to Challenges. You don’t know how Rule responds. You don’t know Rule at all. You’re offended because you think he isn’t taking you seriously, but he is not Victor Frey. Adjust your expectations.”

  Mateo drew in a deep breath. Held it. Let it out again. “If you are not simply playing with me, why are we sitting here, chatting?” He made the last word sound vaguely obscene.

  Rule had himself back under control. Mostly. “It is traditional for a Rho to seek to understand why a Challenge has been issued. Sometimes matters can be settled short of death.”

  “Victor never—” That much came out, but he stopped himself, darting a glance at Lily. “But you are not Victor. Very well. You would know why? Because you risk your life! Over and over, you have risked yourself, yet you have no heir. Alex acts as your Lu Nuncio, but he does not carry the heir’s portion of the mantle. You have not invested the heres valos in him or in anyone. You endanger the mantle.”

  Rule’s eyebrows lifted. “You would amend this risk by killing me?”

  “If you die in honorable Challenge, the Lady will see that the mantle goes where it should.”

  Rule stared. “That’s nonsense.”

  Mateo’s chin lifted. “The Challenge is holy to the Lady. When Arturo of Deroso Challenged his Rho back in the time of troubles—”

  “His Rho killed him,” Rule finished dryly.

  “So some say. Others say that Arturo was killed through treachery before the Challenge.” Mateo shrugged. “We do not know for certain. Those memories were lost along with the clan’s mantle when the Inquisition killed the Deroso Rho and his sons. But had Arturo met his Rho in proper Challenge before the Spanish authorities acted, the clan might have survived. The Lady would have moved to mantle to one in a collateral line who was unknown to the human authorities. She cannot act to preserve a mantle when a Rho is killed outside Challenge, but—”

  “The Santo Desafío heresy,” Cynna said suddenly. “That’s what he’s talking about. Lord, I didn’t think anyone even knew about that these days!”

  Lily frowned. “The what?”

  “Santo Desafío. Holy Challenge. You know that whole trial by combat thing that everyone believed back in the Middle Ages?” Cynna gestured vaguely, perhaps to indicate swordplay. “The idea was that God would finger the bad guy by letting the other guy kill him. That worked about as well as drowning women to find out if they were witches, but people were really into it back then. You can see why some lupi bought into it, only with the Lady doing the fingering instead of God. They claimed that the Challenge was sacred to the Lady—which is not what the memories teach—and that during Challenge she controlled the mantle directly and would determine where it went. Not a surprise that lupi who believed this were big on Challenges, especially when a new Rho took over. Got to make sure the mantle went where she wanted. But Santo Desafío pretty much died out after the Spanish clans were destroyed. They’d been its biggest proponents.”

  “I never heard of this Santo Desafío,” Rule said.

  “It’s not a part of the Nokolai memories,” she said, “because Santo Desafío didn’t take root in our clan, but it’s in some of the shared memories. Back then, the Rhos tried to tell everyone that the mantles didn’t work that way, and the Rhejes called it heresy, but you know how it is. People believe what they want to.”

  “Why heresy?” Lily asked.

  “It was a form of Lady worship, and that’s forbidden.”

  Mateo scowled. “I am Catholic. I worship God, not the Lady, but I know she is present in the Challenge, that it is sacred to her and—”

  “I’m Catholic, too,” Cynna interrupted, “and a holder of the memories, and I’m telling you that you’re wrong.”

  “With all respect”—Mateo sounded more condescending than respectful—“you are a Rhej, but not my Rhej. What Nokolai knows is not the same as what Leidolf knows.”

  “So what’s the bottom line?” Lily demanded. “You think the Lady can keep the mantle from being lost if Rule is killed in Challenge?”

  “Certainly. Such knowledge has been suppressed by the Rhos for obvious reasons. I do not criticize. Such suppression may have served a purpose I am unaware of. But if you stop to think about it, it is obvious the Lady would not allow a mantle to be lost.”

  Cynna rolled her eyes. “And the Spanish clans? Were their mantles lost because she was taking a nap?”

  “But those Rhos were not killed in Challenge, when she—”

  “But you don’t know that she can control the mantles in Challenge,” Cynna persisted. “You’re assuming that based on some idiotic mishmash of medieval theology and—”

  “Dios Mio—she gave us the Challenge! I do not know why Rhejes are so reluctant to credit the Lady’s power. Perhaps the long suppression of female authority in the human culture makes it difficult for you to see clearly, but it is obvious from—”

  Rule didn’t hear the rest. The outside voices were drowned out by one that didn’t involve his ears. One that could not be mistaken for any other. A voice as precise as crystal, as cold as the vastness between stars.

  Rule Turner. Lily Yu is correct about Tom Weng. He survived the explosion of the helicopter and is almost certainly still alive. You and she are owed an explanation. If you come to my lair now, I will tender it.

  “—does not convince you, the Lady’s own words when she spoke of—” Mateo broke off and was on his feet in a flash. “What is it?”

  Rule had risen from the table. So had Lily. Clearly Sam had spoken to her as well. They exchanged a glance, confirming that. “Your pardon,” Rule said, “but Lily and I must go now.”

  Anger tightened the young man’s mouth. “You take my Challenge lightly.”

  “No,” Lily said, “but you’ve been preempted by a dragon.”

  FOUR

  THEY didn’t leave that very minute. Rule sent Mateo to the guard barracks and called Alex Thibidoux, his Lu Nuncio for Leidolf. Alex didn’t answer, so Rule called his father—or rather, his Rho. They were the same person, but when Rule addressed Isen as his Rho instead of his father, he spoke differently. It was weird, but it worked for them. Isen was Rho of Rule’s birth clan, Nokolai; he had to know about the Challenge since there was a chance he’d lose his heir.

  While he did that, Lily spoke with Cynna, then arranged for the car to be brought around and for the guards who’d follow them in another car.

  Follow, not accompany. Not this time.

  Dragons guard their secrets well. They’d clouded the minds of an entire world to protect one in particular, and what Sam wanted to tell them might be connected to it, since it was about Tom Weng. As far as Lily knew, she and Rule were the only nondragons privy to the forbidden knowledge. They needed to keep it that way.

  Alex didn’t answer. Rule made another call, this time to Alex’s second. “Alex has gone for a run,” Rule told her when he disconnected. “He’ll call when he returns and Changes back.”

  Lily nodded. “Cynna’s fetching everyone who went to look at the kestrel nest. When she gets back, she’ll call the Leidolf Rhej.”

  “I need to speak with the Rhej as well, and I want to tell Toby myself about—”

  “She won’t tell Toby about the Challenge, and she wants you to hold off on talking to the Leidolf Rhej. She said this Santo Desafío stuff is Rhej business.”

  Rule grimaced but nodded. “Let’s go.”

  He gave her a sharp look when he saw his car waiting out front sans driver or guards, who were in the nondescript Toyota. She held out his keys. “We might need to talk about . . . things. Also, this way we can stop along the way and make out if we want to.”

  A grin flashed across his face. Rule always looked gorgeous, but it was his grin that made her heart stumbl
e. It lit up his face, wiping away troubles and years, worry and calculation, a grin as open as a boy’s—and as full of mischief. “We could do that anyway if you weren’t so prudish.”

  “I thought lupi considered it rude to indulge around others.” She hadn’t seen that grin much lately. She grinned back and dropped the keys in his hand. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

  “Clearly I’m doing something wrong if you’ve already forgotten—”

  “Driving, Rule.” She rolled her eyes, opened the passenger door, and slid in. “I meant that it’s been a while since you drove yourself.”

  “Ah. I thought you were referring to—”

  She closed the door, still grinning.

  Rule got a call before they were halfway down the long driveway. Not from Alex, but from Lily’s cousin Freddy. Leidolf’s finances had been a mess when Rule inherited that mantle. They still were, but for different reasons. Recent events had cost Leidolf a lot of money, and while the president had promised to reimburse them, governmental wheels turn slowly. They’d get the funds eventually, but for now Rule was shuffling money around madly.

  Freddy specialized in currency trading, one of the riskier forms of speculation. Done right, you could increase your investment quickly—if you were lucky. Rule had been using him to try to build Leidolf’s capital quickly, but had had to cut back because of what he called “Leidolf’s current lack of liquidity.” Apparently Freddie had some deal that needed quick action and thought Rule might want to increase his investment. Lily didn’t listen long, her understanding of the conversation quickly smothered by terms like “trade price response,” “resistance level,” “LIFFE,” and “pegging.”

  Her interest lapsed, too. She glanced at her watch.

  The Dragon Accords allowed dragons to lair almost anywhere they wished, though the way this was accomplished varied among the countries who were parties to the Accords. Here in the United States, that meant anywhere on public land, with exceptions for places like the White House and military bases, with subsidies paid to local and state entities whose land was claimed by a dragon. They could lair on private land, too, but the property had to be seized through public domain. That took time; most of the dragons hadn’t wanted to wait.