Dragonforge

'What was the point?' she asked, confused. 'She had no tongue. What could she have told him?'

'I don't think there was a point,' said Pet. He turned his body a bit more, and was now speaking directly toward her unseen face, barely five feet away. 'I think he's in over his head and doesn't know what he's doing. He's drawing on the lessons his father taught him: the real power of a king lies in the force and fear he commands.'

Jandra shivered at these words, remembering how Shandrazel had been energized by the thought of her serving as an assassin. Was she now part of the fear he commanded? And if Shandrazel had fallen back on the lessons his father had taught him, was she any different? She was drawing on Vendevorex's moral choices to guide her this evening.

'You never answered my question,' said Pet. 'Why are you here?'

'I've come… on a mission of diplomacy. I need to talk to Ragnar.'

'I can take you to him,' said Pet. 'But I don't think he's interested in diplomacy. Neither am I, to be honest.'

'I need to at least try,' she said.

'If diplomacy means surrendering Dragon Forge, forget it,' said Pet. 'We've paid for this fort with blood. We won't give it up.'

'Not even if it means more blood shed?'

'We've made our stand,' said Pet. 'Every man here would give his life to keep this town in human hands.'

'You might get that chance,' she said. 'Shandrazel's talking about burning this city to the ground. And, from what I'm told, it sounds as if Shandrazel's army might have lost their first attack due to bad luck. He says some sort of illness swept his army just after the attack began. Can you count on a mysterious illness a second time?'

Pet crossed his arms, looking stone-faced. He answered, in a cold tone. 'We don't rely on luck. Ragnar says the Lord is on our side. So far, he's been right.'

'You used to be so scornful of prophets,' she said. 'How can you be part of this?'

'I'm not the man I used to be,' Pet said.

'Look, this is getting us nowhere. Just take me to Ragnar. I should at least hear what he has to say. Maybe he can make a believer out of me.'

'Maybe,' said Pet. Then he paused again. He was now close enough that she could smell him. His scent didn't trigger the same erotic response it had the last time she'd been near him. Her senses were now more under control, for one thing, and he smelled especially ripe, for another.

Despite this, a small chill raced through her as she met his gaze. Before, when she'd looked into his eyes, though they had been beautiful as gemstones, they'd been empty; vacant windows into a vacant soul. The only emotion she'd ever seen inside him was lust. Now, his eyes were lit with something else-a hardness, a seriousness that told her Pet no longer desired her. He'd surrendered his life to a larger cause.

'Shandrazel hasn't sent you here to do something dumb, has he? You're not here to kill Ragnar, are you?'

Jandra froze. Pet couldn't see her face though he was less than an arm's length away. Was there something in her tone that tipped him off? Or had war simply left him with a greater degree of caution than he'd once possessed?

'I told you I'm here to talk,' she said.

'Good. Because you'd be dead in a heartbeat if you tried anything.'

Jandra was incredulous. Pet couldn't possibly be threatening her, could he? 'Why?' she asked, scornfully. 'His God would strike me down?'

'No.' Pet's open hand darted out. He clumsily struck her shoulder, rapidly ran his fingers down her arm to grab her bicep, and growled, 'I would.'

'Unhand me,' she hissed. His grip was solid; his rough and jagged nails were piercing the sheer fabric that covered her arms. 'Or I'll unhand you. You've seen what my powers can do to human flesh.'

He relaxed his grip, but still held her. They stood, unmoving, for several long moments. Pet stared at where he knew her eyes must be. She turned her gaze away. At last, he released her.

'As long as we have an understanding,' he said. 'You can follow me.'

Jandra dropped her invisibility as Pet led her into the house at the end of the street. She hoped Pet would take it as a sign of goodwill. Plus, it could prove useful not to have anyone else in the room know she could turn invisible.

The wooden house was modest and plain. The place felt claustrophobic compared to the abodes of sun- dragons or sky-dragons. They entered in a kitchen dominated by a large table built of roughly-finished pine, with stripes of black grime caked into its oily surface. A bushel basket of onions sat on the table and, from the smell, a fair number of the onions were rotting. Pet opened the kitchen door into a room with a fireplace. The heat washed over her in a wave.

Ragnar sat on a wooden chair by the fire. There was a woman sitting on his lap, her clothes in a state of disarray. The woman looked toward the door; her eyes were hard and indignant at the intrusion. A serpentine tattoo was faintly visible under the short dark hair that covered her scalp. A Sister of the Serpent? Jandra tensed. Shandrazel had said Pet was working with Blasphet.

Ragnar sneered as he caught sight of Jandra, his eyes wandering in disdain over her fine clothes and careful grooming. They had never been formally introduced. The last time he had seen her, in the Free City, she'd been disguised as a peasant.

'Who's this?' Ragnar demanded of Pet. 'Why do you disturb my counsel with Shanna?'

'Sorry,' said Pet. 'This seems important. Apparently Shandrazel wants to talk.'

'I'm Jandra Dragonsdaughter,' Jandra said, with a respectful bow. 'I'm here to speak for Shandrazel.'

Ragnar's face slackened. He stared at Jandra as if she were a ghost. It wasn't the reaction Jandra expected. After an awkward moment of silence, she decided to proceed. 'Shandrazel intends to take back Dragon Forge. Your most valuable weapon in the recent battle, your improved bows, will no longer have the element of surprise. The illness that swept his forces was a chance occurrence. You faced an army unfit to fight. When the dragons attempt to take this city again, you'll face certain death.'

Ragnar didn't say anything in response to her words. He continued to stare, his expression unfathomable.

Mildly rattled by the possibility that Ragnar was, in fact, a madman, Jandra tried once more to appeal to reason. 'There's still a chance that bloodshed can be avoided. I was at the Free City. I'm sympathetic to the cause of human liberty. Shandrazel, too, is a proponent of greater human freedom. Tell me your demands for the surrender of this city, and I'll carry them back to Shandrazel.'

Ragnar's face took on a gray pallor as he looked down at the floor. He said, quietly, 'I almost killed you as an infant, you know.'

Jandra cocked her head, perplexed. Was this just insane babble?

'What?'

'When you were a baby. A sky-dragon killed all my family save one, my infant sister. Later, he attempted to return her to me. But I knew she'd already been corrupted. I tried to kill you. To this day, I'm not certain what saved you. One moment I held a rock, preparing to smash your skull. Then I was struck unconscious by an unseen enemy. When I woke, you were gone. I was never certain of your fate.'

Jandra's forehead wrinkled in confusion as she stared at the nude man. His body was crisscrossed by a hundred scrapes and cuts, his hair hung around his face in tangles. There were clumps of horrible things in his beard that she didn't want identified. This was the leader of the rebels? He was so obviously insane, she couldn't believe anyone had ever listened to him.

'Wait a minute,' Pet said. 'Are you saying Jandra is your sister?'

'Once,' said Ragnar. 'Before the dragons stole her and infected her spirit. I've heard rumors over the years of a girl named Jandra being raised in the palace. She had the same name as my sister-I had blurted out her name to the dragon who'd stolen her. The powers attributed to the king's wizard, Vendevorex, were the same as those the sky-dragon displayed that night-command of fire and ice, and the power of invisibility. These are powers of the devil.'

Jandra felt the hair rising on the back of her neck, at least where it wasn't clamped down by her genie. 'My powers have nothing to do with the devil,' she said defensively.

'Perhaps you believe this,' Ragnar sighed. 'I regret that I couldn't spare you such corruption, sister. The fact that you come here as a representative of dragons rather than standing for your own race is proof that you're beyond redemption.'