spiced to eye-watering heat. Earth-dragons could never replace the skills of human farmers, carpenters, and craftsmen.
Of course, his own species was a poor substitute for human labor as well. Most sky-dragon males were averse to actual work. The majority devoted their lives to scholarship. Over the centuries they had produced poems, statues, operas, and lengthy treatises on every topic under the sun. They'd filled libraries and museums with their creations; but every one of those libraries had been built by the labors of men. The diet of sky-dragons was more sophisticated than earth-dragons-fish, fresh fruit, crusty bread, and vegetables in a rainbow of colors-and all of this was grown by human farmers and cooked by human slaves.
Vulpine had become a slavecatcher because it was one of the few professions available to his race that truly mattered. Slavecatchers were the invisible glue that held the world together. They were greatly feared among men. Their reputation for brutality was well deserved, but it did not spring from any innate cruelty. The poets, artists, and musicians of the world would starve if not for the work of slavecatchers. Men benefited from the system as well, as strict discipline allowed the war-prone humans to live in relative peace. Without the valiant efforts of slavecatchers, the world would spin into anarchy.
Who else kept order? The sun-dragons? Albekizan and his incompetent heir Shandrazel had done the world far more harm than good. Albekizan had triggered the human uprising with his inept attempt at genocide. Shandrazel had allowed the problem to explode by showing weakness, allowing a ragtag band of humans to defeat his army at Dragon Forge. Albekizan had lit a fire; Shandrazel had poured oil upon it. It was left to Vulpine to squelch the flames.
Fortunately, he would not be without allies. Aside from the slavecatchers, there was one more small subset of sky-dragon males willing to dirty their talons: the aerial guard, a hundred or so sky-dragons who served as protectors of the Dragon Palace.
It was these guards who now rose into the sky. A dozen of them quickly assumed an arrow formation and shot in his direction, ready to defend the palace. The living wall of sky-dragon guards that closed quickly in on Vulpine made his heart glad. It was such a waste that his brethren devoted themselves to studies and art-a martial sky- dragon was a glorious thing, a hundred pounds of muscle, bones, and scale that commanded the air like no other creature on earth. The members of the aerial guard were especially impressive. Red and yellow ribbons trailed from the mane of blue scales that ran down their necks and backs, coloration that matched the banners of Albekizan that still adorned the palace. In their hind-talons, the aerial guard carried long-spears, their razor-sharp tips dazzling in the morning sun.
The eyes of the aerial guard were hard as they neared. One by one, their gazes softened as they recognized Vulpine. Seventy years old, Vulpine was well known to all sky-dragons. He'd been Slavecatcher General for nearly thirty years, and he'd been present for the initiation of every last one of these dragons. All carried a two-inch long, talon-shaped scar below their right eye-a scar made by a branding iron that Vulpine himself had wielded, marking them forever as warriors.
'Greetings, warrior,' Vulpine called out to Sagen, the lead guard. Sagen was a fine specimen, his muscles moving beneath his azure scales like precisely-tuned machinery. Sagen was the product of one of the most respected bloodlines of the sky-dragons-his own. Breeding was strictly controlled among the sky-dragons, with all pairings guided by the Matriarch to capture the most worthy traits of the sky-dragon race. The upbringing of sky- dragons was strictly communitarian; they didn't form family units like humans or sun-dragons. While most sky- dragons knew their lineage, their loyalty was to their race, not their relatives. Still, Vulpine had always had an interest in each of his many offspring, and Sagen had made him especially proud when he'd embraced the warrior's path and begun his meteoric rise in the ranks of the aerial guard.
Vulpine and Sagen began to gyre in a tight orbit, looking across a circle little wider than their combined wingspans as the other guards spread out into a wider circle.
'Sir,' said Sagen, with a respectful nod of his head. 'What is the purpose of this visit?'
'I've come to see the High Biologian,' Vulpine said.
'Androkom is… unavailable at the moment,' said Sagen.
'You can speak the truth,' said Vulpine. 'I know that Androkom is either dead or in a dungeon. Chapelion should have arrived days ago with a squadron of valkyries from the Nest to overthrow him. The Matriarch opposed the appointment of Androkom as High Biologian due to his flawed bloodline. Chapelion was her choice; I assume you now serve him, though I understand that he may not yet be ready to announce this news.'
Sagen looked thoughtful as he continued to fly in his counter orbit, contemplating his answer. Vulpine assumed his son was under orders not to admit that Chapelion had accomplished his coup. At last, Sagen said, 'I cannot confirm your speculations, sir. I can acknowledge that Chapelion is currently a guest of the palace. I can personally provide you with safe escort to see him.'
'Of course,' said Vulpine, and the two broke from their gyre. Sagen barked out orders to his fellow guards and flew ahead, leading them toward the great open amphitheatre that served as the throne room of the sun-dragon king.
Vulpine opened his wings and tilted backward to slow himself, skidding ungracefully as he landed on the polished marble floor. He was tired from his flight through the night; the weapon he'd taken from Shay was slung over his shoulder and its weight threw him off balance. The amphitheatre was a half dome open to the west, which meant its interior was still in shadows in early morning. Torches lined the walls, flickering in the breeze stirred up by their landing.
At the head of the hall, seated atop a mound of golden cushions large enough for a sun-dragon, was a familiar blue form: Chapelion, master of the College of Spires. He was flanked on each side by a score of valkyries, female sky-dragons dedicated to the military arts.
Chapelion was younger than Vulpine by seven years, though a casual observer might not have guessed this. Vulpine had spent much of his life outdoors. Fresh air and exercise had left Vulpine stronger than many sky-dragons half his age, and a life on the hunt had left him with his senses sharpened. Chapelion, having lived a more sedentary life indoors, was pot-bellied with spindly limbs. His hide sagged on his frame. A lifetime of reading by lantern light had dulled Chapelion's eyes. He compensated with a pair of specially designed spectacles that sat atop his broad snout.
Chapelion's head was lowered as he scanned across several large rolls of parchment laid out on the floor before him. A trio of younger sky-dragons surrounded the elder biologian, quills in hand, jotting notes as he mumbled. Vulpine was so used to seeing tall, red-headed Shay in this role that his absence felt odd.
'Chapelion!' Vulpine shouted out in greeting. His voice echoed in the vast room; Chapelion was becoming hard of hearing in his old age, so Vulpine was used to adjusting his tone.
The dragon looked up, peering over the rim of his spectacles. He lifted his neck, looking more alert as he recognized Vulpine. 'Old friend,' said Chapelion. 'I'm happy to see you! I assume you've recovered my books?'
'No,' Vulpine said, drawing closer to the throne. He could see now that the pages spread before Chapelion were copies of maps, the ink still fresh. 'Unfortunately, I bring you neither books, nor slaves. Hemming and Turpin are dead. Shay survives; I encountered him last night, but made the tactical decision to retreat.'
'What?' Chapelion said. At first, Vulpine thought he hadn't spoken loudly enough; then he realized that Chapelion didn't believe what he'd heard. 'You fled from Shay? You let my books remain with him? In all the years I've known you, this is the first time you've ever reported such failure.'
Vulpine grimaced. 'I said that I retreated, not that I fled. In truth, my encounter with Shay was pure accident. He didn't have the books with him; if he had, I'd have secured them. However, I feel confident we shall catch him soon. He was in the company of Jandra.'
A deep furrow appeared in Chapelion's brow. 'Jandra? Should I know this name?'
'You should,' said Vulpine. 'Jandra was the human child that Vendevorex raised from infancy. I've heard she isn't his equal as a wizard, but she's still in command of formidable forces. I was traveling with Balikan and he was killed by Jandra. I had defeated Shay and was about to slay Jandra when a third combatant ambushed me from behind. I knocked him away but never saw him; he must have been invisible, a power attributed to the wizard.'
'Yes,' said Chapelion. 'I've seen Vendevorex turn invisible.' He paused, raising his fore-talon to stroke beneath his chin. 'That sentence doesn't sound accurate,' he said, softly, speaking to himself. 'I watched him turn invisible? Does that sound better?' Chapelion's voice trailed off as he mulled over the question in his head.
Vulpine waited patiently. Conversations with Chapelion were like this; a lifetime of dictating manuscripts had
