Lords of the Sky

revealed. Then a last descent down time-worn stairs to doors.

I found myself surprised to see them: I had begun to assume that no wood existed any longer in this decaying place, save what nature wound into the stone. But these were firm and black, banded with solid hinges of dark metal. And Bellek flung them open like some proud aeldor inviting guests into his sanctum.

Which I suppose he was and we were.

I could not help but gape: after what we’d passed through, this was magnificent.

It was a hall such as I’d not seen. Not in any place I’d been, not even Durbrecht. I thought not even Gahan- now his son and the ill-met regent-in Kherbryn could boast such a hall. As the yard where the dragons landed had been great, so was this chamber; and more.

It was vaulted high, with beams of stone like the ribs of some creature even larger than the dragons. My feet tapped out small steps on the floorstones, lost in the fading echoes of the far walls, which rose up tall as those beeches in Trebizar’s gardens, as high and wide and overwhelming. The floor was marble, pure white under the thick dust. My boots left tracks there. The walls were black as darkest night, save for where the rising ribs of floor lofted white beneath their layering of cobwebs, as if all this chamber were fashioned of a single thing, mingling. It was as though we stepped into the belly of a beast entrapped in the stone of the mountain. High windows like dragons’ eyes cut through on three sides, and as the sun rose higher, so light spread brilliant through the chamber, sparkling off the dust that filled the air. I went to one of those windows and looked out (what kept the glass so clean?) and gasped at what I saw. This chamber was cut from within some bulge of stone, jutting out over the panorama below so that I felt I hung suspended in the morning. I moved back to join the others, who followed Bellek across this wondrous hall.

I saw hearths filled with dead and ancient wood; and tables of carved oak set around with high-backed chairs of intricate design. Spiders’ webs strung their backs, and dust lay thick over the surfaces of the tables. From the vaulted roof hung chandeliers that were likely gold beneath the verdigris that dulled their luster. It was not easy to tell, for webs spun them around, and fat spiders dangled, horrid in the light.

I felt Rwyan tighten her grip on my hand. I saw Tezdal frown, disgust naked on his face. Only Urt seemed undisturbed, and I thought that was likely because he felt himself safe underground, away from the dragons.

Bellek followed an old trail through the dust to the far side of the chamber.

He’d not lied about the fire: it burned in the hearth there. Smoldering down now into sparking embers, but lit up quick enough when he tossed on fresh logs from the stack beside. There was a table there, before the hearth, of some dark wood; round and set with five chairs, as if we were expected. Bellek ushered Rwyan to a somewhat dusty seat, and I helped Tezdal lower Urt to another. We took places either side. Only Rwyan seemed at ease.

I was pleased to see the table clean and that the chandelier above was empty of spiders. (I’ve no liking for spiders.) So I watched as Bellek filled five golden goblets from a decanter of matching gold and wondered if the tarnish would taint the taste.

He said, “Drink, and welcome to the Dragoncastle. I’ll find you food.”

He went out through a door beside the hearth, and I looked at my companions. They looked at me: none of us had answers to the questions our eyes asked. I sipped the wine and said, “It’s good.”

Tezdal said, “What is this place?”

Rwyan said, “A Dragoncastle, as Bellek told us.”

I said, “It’s old. I never thought to see a place so old as this.”

Urt only sat silent and still, his body rigid; as if locked to the dusty chair. I should have comforted him or tried to, but I was caught up in such wonder at all I saw that I am ashamed to say I overlooked his predicament.

Bellek came back, laden with a platter of meat that he set down before us. He smiled and went away, returning with vegetables and bread; then brought us plates and knives. “Eat,” he said. Suddenly I found myself mightily hungry.

The meat was venison, spit-roasted, so that the outer flesh was charred, the inner bloody. The vegetables were barely cooked, and the bread was coarse. I cared not at all: I set to with a will.

“You must forgive me.” I looked up and saw that Bellek addressed himself to Rwyan. “I’m not much of a cook.”

She licked a droplet of blood from her lips and asked him, “Are you alone here, then?”

For an instant his eyes grew bleak. Then he smiled and shrugged and ducked his head. “Save for the dragons, aye. And have been for a while-hence this disorder.”

I said, “What of the other Dragoncastles?”

He answered me, “Empty of Dragonmasters.”

I said, “You’re truly the last?”

He only nodded in reply; there was a terrible sadness in the simple gesture.

I looked around and saw time’s hand all about me. I felt the weight of ages in the stone. I saw it in his eyes. I asked, “How long?”

He looked at me and smiled, and once again I wondered if I saw the glint of madness there. He said, “I’m no Mnemonikos, Daviot. I lose track of the days, the years; but … a long time.”

I said, “In Dharbek they believe the dragons dead and the Dragonmasters with them.”

He said, “As you’ve seen, they are wrong,” and laughed and filled our tarnished cups.

I asked him where the wine came from, the food.

He said, “Meat’s easy-the dragons do my hunting. The rest?” He paused, grinning mischievously. “I’ve some few friends. Such as may reassure Urt.”

I frowned, chastened by that reminder. I looked to Urt, who ate disconsolately, his head lowered toward his plate. He looked up at that, and I had seldom known his expression so easily read: it was one of hope and disbelief; and fear his hope should prove unfounded.

Bellek said, “There are Changed here, Urt. They’ve no fear of the dragons; no need to fear them.”

Urt said, “Where?” His voice was strident with hope.

Bellek said, “In the valleys. They’ve farms there; they gift me a tithe of their produce.”

Urt looked at him with wondering eyes. My own, I suspect, were wide with curiosity. I said, “How?”

The Dragonmaster laughed. I believe he enjoyed himself, spinning out all these tidbits of knowledge held so long to himself; now to be shared-but slowly-like long-hoarded treasures. He was more than a little crazed. Or saw the turnings of the world from a different vantage point from ours.

He said, “When the Truemen sorcerers created the Changed and left them behind in Ur-Dharbek, there were always some few who lived north of Trebizar. They learned early what I suspect that Raethe of yours knows now-that the dragons hunt men not as food, but for sport. Think on it! You’ve ridden dragons, you’ve seen them hunt.” He gestured at the meat cooling on our platters. “Deer are nothing to them. By the Three, they take a deer easy as a terrier a rat. They take the aurochs-and few men would face such a beast! No, they hunted the men who came here because they enjoyed the sport, and because men challenged their supremacy. And for a while they hunted the Changed of Ur-Dharbek for the same reason. But the Changed-forgive me, Urt-proved poorer sport than Truemen. I think it was likely that Truemen commanded magic earlier, and there’s a … taste … to that; one the dragons enjoy.”

He paused to drain his cup; refill it. I felt a horrid dread. I glanced at Rwyan. Bellek saw my look and the direction of my thoughts and said, “No fear there, Daviot. Anryale’s bonded with her now, and so she’s safe.”

I felt relieved; but no wiser.

I suppose my emotions showed, because Bellek continued: “In many ways the dragons are not so different to most animals. They guard their hunting grounds against intruders and oppose any threat to their welfare. Truemen were a threat, when they discovered the powers of the crystals and turned them against the dragons-”

He was interrupted by Rwyan, who said, “You know of the crystals’ powers?”

He grinned again. “Am I not a Dragonmaster? My power came from the crystals. These hills are rich with them, and the dragons eat them.”

“Eat them?” I gasped.

“As do birds swallow stones to assist their digestion,” he said, “so do the dragons eat the crystals. And over the ages, that’s changed them. They’ve a kind of magic now, and it rendered the easy pickings of Ur-Dharbek …