quo. I may be the greatest hypocrite in all of history, yet it may not be too late for me to make amends.'
'How?'
'While I've lost my rank and power, the matriarch remains in her position. I must speak to her. I must appeal to the last embers of her affection and ask her to end the centuries-old traditions that separate the sexes. I believe it's time to allow love to again play a role in the pairings of sky-dragons. It may be that she'll have me slain the moment she sees me. But what if she's as riddled with regrets as I am? The seeds of my words may fall on fertile soil. It's a slim chance, but I feel I must try.'
Graxen contemplated the words. The matriarch had shown such hostility toward him. Did that hostility mask a regretful heart? Would she listen to Metron?
'Why do you need me?' he asked.
'As a tatterwing, I cannot simply fly to the Nest. I can't make this journey alone, Graxen.'
'I've met the matriarch,' said Graxen. 'I don't think my presence will help your case.'
'But-'
'But I didn't say I wouldn't help. I can't condemn you for falling in love. I, too, have recently tasted this emotion. I've met a female who I want to be with and, against all odds, she wishes to be with me. It's why I was searching through this library.'
'You… were going to meet her here?' Metron sounded confused.
Graxen felt embarrassed, but he'd already said enough that he could see no harm in confessing all. 'No. I need information. Neither Nadala nor I have been trained in the, um… skills… of biological pairing.'
'Oh?' said Metron, still sounding bewildered. 'Oh! You mean you don't know how to copulate.'
'I chose not to use such crude terminology.'
'Crude terminology is one of the more enjoyable spin-offs of the process. However, it's understandable that you don't know what to do. Mating comes quite naturally to lower animals, but for thinking creatures the act can appear slightly absurd and impractical. I assure you, however, with a little practice everything makes sense. It's mainly a matter of changing the way you look at your body's plumbing. You see, the organs of reproduction and the organs of waste lie very-'
'Stop,' said Graxen, raising his fore-talon. 'I'm uncomfortable discussing this matter with you. Isn't there a book I could read? Some manual of instruction?'
'Oh,' said Metron. 'Why, most assuredly. There's a book for everything, you know. In fact, you're in luck. Albekizan's father was a collector of such manuscripts. The subjects are all sun-dragons, of course, but the biological differences between our species are mostly a matter of scale. The Prime Codex of Pleasure is an excellent reference work, due to the illustrations. Two of the five known copies reside in this library. I drew quite extensively from its pages during my encounters with-.'
'Enough!' said Graxen. Despite his intense interest in the subject, he was disturbed by the thought of learning details of the encounters between his parents. 'Show me the book. Then I'll take you with me to meet Nadala. I suspect she'll be interested in your mission. Perhaps she'll know of a way for you to see the matriarch.'
Pet gingerly touched his face. His left eyebrow was a hard, swollen knot. He wasn't certain he could open the eye beneath it-in the pitch black cell, there was no difference with his eyes opened or closed. He was missing three teeth, two on the top and one on the bottom. His hair was tangled and glued to his face by dried blood. His nose was too painful for him to explore its new contours. He couldn't breathe through it, which was just as well. He could taste hints of the odors that haunted the cell. He'd barely been awake earlier when the guards fastened the manacles onto his arms and legs. An earth-dragon had sullenly washed the floors by pouring stagnant water from a wooden bucket onto the area where the girl's corpse had been. The traces of urine and vomit that crossed his tongue were dreadful; he was glad his broken nose spared him the full impact of the stench.
He drifted in and out of wakefulness. He wasn't certain how much time had passed; though it felt as if he'd been here an eternity, he suspected he hadn't even endured a day, since the guards hadn't yet fed him.
In the tomblike silence, Pet's attention was drawn to a scratching, clicking noise nearby. A rat? No, the scraping was more metallic, like long needles tapping against iron. A moment later, a loud clank echoed through the chamber, the distinctive sound of a padlock opening. The hinges of the iron door groaned as they inched open. Dim light seeped through the ever-widening gap.
Two women squeezed into the doorway, their faces barely visible in the light of a small vial that glowed with a yellow-white phosphorescence like an oversized firefly. The women had shaved heads tattooed with serpentine designs; their bodies were hidden beneath heavy black cloaks. They moved barefoot across the floor toward Pet.
A yard away, they drew to a sudden stop.
'That's not Deanna,' one said.
'Help me,' Pet whispered, his voice sounding like someone else's as it passed through his damaged mouth.
'Kill him,' the sister who carried the light said, drawing her dagger.
'Wait,' the sister on the right said. 'I've seen him before. He's the one they chained before the crowd in the Free City. His face is messed up now, but I remember his hair.'
'That's me,' Pet said, summoning the strength to sit up. 'I was the one Albekizan tortured. You were in the Free City?'
'Yes,' the girl said bending down to take a closer look at his face. 'Is it true? You're the great dragon- slayer?'
Pet turned his head, ashamed that these girls were staring at his damaged face. He felt like a monster. 'I'm not a great anything anymore,' he whispered.
'We should free him,' the woman said, kneeling and grabbing his chains.
'Are you crazy?' the other one hissed. 'This isn't the mission.'
'Missions change,' the woman answered as she started working her lockpicks within the manacle that bound Pet. With a snick, the band loosened. He rubbed his free arm. It felt cold as ice.
'Were you here to save the other girl?' said Pet.
'We heard that Deanna was captured,' the girl said as she worked on the lock binding his ankle. 'Blasphet wanted us to make certain she was finally able to complete her suicide mission.'
'Shandrazel completed it for you,' Pet said. 'He killed her trying to make her reveal Blasphet's location.'
'Did she?'
'No.'
The girl holding the light-vial grumbled. 'We were going to kill one of our own, but we're rescuing some stranger now? This is going to be difficult to explain.'
The first girl finished working on the manacle. She stood up as it clattered to the floor. 'My name is Shanna,' she said. 'My companion is Lin. She wasn't at the Free City or she wouldn't question why I'm doing this.'
Pet tried to stand, but his feet were numb, and he wound up flat on his back. He sighed, and said, 'I was there, and I'm not sure why you're doing this.'
'All survivors of the Free City will forever be connected by our shared hatred,' said Shanna. 'If you go from this dungeon and kill even one more dragon, you will be fulfilling your life's most sacred purpose.'
Pet started to point out that Sisters of the Serpent worshipped the very dragon who'd designed the Free City, but decided that this was a bad time and place to launch an argument.
Pet again tried to stand. By bracing himself against the slimy wall, he was able to once more find his footing. His head felt heavier than it should be, swollen and throbbing. He was a foot taller than either woman. Shanna looked up at him with a curious emotion in her eyes. Admiration? Pet was used to seeing attraction in the eyes of young women, but admiration was something new. Lin didn't seem so impressed. She scowled at him with an expression that told him he would need to watch his back.
'If Deanna is dead, we're finished here,' said Shanna. 'We'll take you back to the leader. He can no doubt find a good use for the hero of the Free City.'
Pet found the idea of being to put to good use by Blasphet a rather ominous one.
Lin, the scowling girl, said, 'He can't be Bitterwood. He's too young.'
'Anyone can be Bitterwood,' said Shanna. 'He's not so much a man as a spirit. Anyone can open their hearts to him and become the Death of All Dragons, the Ghost Who Kills.'
'Are you Bitterwood?' Lin asked Pet.
