Lords of the Sky

not really a suggestion at all) that from henceforth the Lord Protector should govern under advisement of a Council of Aeldors, together with the chosen representatives of the sorcerers and the Mnemonikos. He was somewhat taken aback by our suggestion (our demand!) that the Changed of Dharbek be no longer indentured servants but enjoy the rights and privileges of free Truemen. But as that long night paled toward dawn and we told him what we knew and all we’d learned-and what might be the outcome did he refuse-he agreed those bonds should be struck away. His advisers were less ready to accept, but the word of the Lord Protector and the unspoken threat of dragonish retribution brought them around, to lip service at the least. I knew there must be factions within Taerl’s court, those who’d argue our design in the cities and the holds, but such dissent was not an immediate concern. For now it was enough that Taerl heeded us and smoothed our way. I knew there should be difficulties later as surely as I knew my mouth was dry from talking and my belly began to rumble; but it was begun. There should be much work for we new Dragonmasters in the days to come, but the first steps were taken and our world shoved in a new direction. For now we could do no more-save that one last thing that should likely prove the hardest of all.

That we discussed as food was brought, and we fell on it like the dragons on prey. There was no thought of etiquette: there was no time for such niceties.

Taerl perhaps lacked the stern fiber of his sire and surely the ambition, but he had all Gahan’s wisdom. He it was broached that final matter. He said, “Do we instigate all we’ve agreed, then well and good-I think it shall likely make Dharbek a happier land. But what of the Sky Lords?”

The sun was risen now, though it had no right to climb so high so early in the year. The chamber was already hot, even with opened windows, through which we heard the calling of the dragons. I feared they might grow hungry and set to hunting the streets.

Bellek had the same thought, for he wiped a careless hand across his mouth and pushed back his chair. “We know what we shall do,” he said, rising, “and these are details you discuss. I’ll leave you to them and take the flock ahunting.”

I nodded my grateful agreement, but it was to Urt the silver-haired Dragonmaster turned and asked, “May I ride Kathanria?”

Urt (who was already somewhat uncomfortable in this assembly) was taken aback. “You ask my permission?” he said.

Bellek nodded gravely and returned him, “She’s yours now, my friend. I can ride her only by your leave.”

Urt frowned and said, “You have it.”

I thought he’d sooner go with Bellek, but he made no move, and I watched the ancient Dragonmaster offer him a formal bow and walk away. I could not interpret Bellek’s expression, but I thought it strange.

As he left, Rwyan called, “You’ll choose your hunting ground with care, eh, Bellek?”

He laughed and told her, “Aye, lady. I’d not tear down what you’ve built. Not now.”

His laughter seemed to hang in the hot room. But I’d no time to muse on that: Taerl had asked a most pertinent question.

I glanced at Tezdal, who sat silent and somber, and said, “When we Dhar first came down into Kellambek, we slew the Ahn or made them slaves. That was wrong.”

Taerl nodded. “Hindsight would suggest it so. But are we guilty of our fathers’ sins?”

I said, “Do we not right them, yes.”

Taerl nodded again and allowed me the point: “So what do you … suggest?”

I said, “We drove the Ahn from their homeland, and it was that began the Comings. Save we make reparation, the Comings shall continue.”

From amongst the dignitaries assembled along the table, a man said, “With such allies as your dragons, we can defeat the Sky Lords.” I noticed he wore Mardbrecht’s colors.

I saw Tezdal stiffen, and Rwyan’s hand drop to his wrist, where his own gripped his swordhilt. Quickly, I said, “With our dragons we could ravage all Dharbek. But we’d sooner not. We’d sooner see peace-an end to the Comings; an end to war.”

Taerl raised a hand before the man could speak again. “I’d put my seal on that,” he said. And then demonstrated a fine quickness of wit. “Should that not be a great monument to us all, my lords? That we be the architects of such a peace? Think on it! The Great Coming defeat-” He bit back the word, giving Tezdal an apologetic smile. “No longer a threat; neither any Comings. Daviot’s College should mark our names for that, I think, and tell such tales of us as must live on down the years.”

I smiled. I could not, because the sun was bright, be certain, but I thought the Lord Protector winked at me then. He said, “So tell us how this peace shall be won.”

I said, “We must give back the Sky Lords’ homeland.”

I had expected outrage at that, and it came. Voices rose in dissent, screaming that we Dhar had bought that land with blood; that to return it to the Ahn should betray our forefathers. I feared Tezdal would take offense and draw his sword.

Taerl impressed me again then. He took his wine cup and hammered it so hard against the table, the gold was bent. I saw a gem fall loose, unnoticed as the wine that stained the Lord Protector’s sleeve. When he had silence, he said, “We shall hear Daviot out. Do you stay silent, and only listen. Or would you contest the argument with his dragons?”

He’d not the voice of an orator. Rather it was somewhat soft, but he affected so imperious a manner that he stilled them.

I murmured thanks and said, “Blood has been spilled down longer ages than any here can count. Ahn blood was spilled first, when we Dhar took the land. Then our fathers gave their lives against the Sky Lords, against the Comings. The right and the wrong of it both lie in the past-the future is ours to decide. Shall we perpetuate ancient wrongs? Or look to set them right? I think there is only one way to achieve that aim; and save we do, the Comings shall not end, but go on and on and on.”

The same dissenter muttered, “Save you take your dragons and destroy them. As any true Dhar would.”

It was Rwyan who answered, putting in plain words what I began to know, and (I think, then) feared: “We are no longer true Dhar, neither Daviot nor I. Nor is Urt any longer only a Changed servant gone wild. Nor Tezdal now only a Sky Lord. We are Dragonmasters now, and not like you. We are become different-we see this world through the eyes of our dragons, and they do not look out through the eyes of Truemen or Changed or Sky Lords. They see it different, and so do we. And we shall make it different! And you shall not prevent us! You cannot!”

She had not moved from her seat. Neither had she bathed nor changed her soiled clothing. She had run fingers carelessly through her hair, but no more than that. Her cheeks were dirty; blood dried brown on her shirt, and speckles clung to her cheeks. Her tan was paled by the weeks passed in the winter-bound Dragoncastle. Her blind eyes blazed fierce as emeralds held to fire, but the fire there came from within. I felt my love for her blaze even higher. I saw that Taerl watched her with awestruck eyes. That did not surprise me: she was magnificent, impressive. I was surprised by the expression on Tezdal’s face: it was one of pure devotion.

Someone said, “Do you threaten us, lady?”

And Rwyan smiled like some messenger sent by the Pale Friend and lowered her head once, a single gesture of confirmation that required no words to drive home its import.

Someone else said. “This is too much.”

I thought then we perhaps went too far. This was a delicate path we trod and better not sown with anger’s dissent but weeded clean from the start. So I asked, “Too much?” And pointed to the windows. “Is this heat too much? How are Kherbryn’s granaries? Or Durbrecht’s? Or those anywhere in Dharbek now? Are they filled? Are the cisterns and the reservoirs filled? Or do the streams run dry and the cattle die in the fields? Are the people hungry or fed well? Listen-I’m a fisherman’s son”-someone muttered, “I’m not surprised,” but I ignored so cheap a sally-“and some time ago I went home. The catches were poor then-how are they now? Does Dharbek prosper, or suffer famine? And drought?”

A voice I recognized now said, “You could end that.”

It belonged to a plump-cheeked man of middling years. His hair sat lank with sweat about a round visage