that suggested he suffered no great deprivation. I fixed him with my eyes and saw his drop as I said, “Yes, we could. We could likely take our dragons east to Ahn-feshang and destroy the skyboats readying for the Great Coming as easily as we destroyed those moored in Ur-Dharbek. Likely we could tear down the holds and cities of the Sky Lords as easily as we could Kherbryn.
Silence then, heavy and hot. The voice that broke it was Taerl’s: “How shall you do this?”
I said, “We shall go to the islands of Ahn-feshang and present to the Attul-ki the same terms-that they lift this gramarye destroying Dharbek and give up their dream of conquest.”
Taerl spun his dented goblet between his hands and said, “And in return they have back Kellambek?”
I shook my head. I said, “No. In return, they have the right to settle in Kellambek. To live and work alongside those Dhar and those Changed who live here now. Just as any Dhar or any Changed shall have the right to live in Ahn-feshang, do they wish.”
“That,” Taerl said, “shall not be easy, I think.”
I said, “No, it shall not be. Old hatreds fester like poisoned wounds and sully new flesh. But it might be done. And there shall be dragons in the skies above all the lands, to hold the peace.”
Taerl said, “Hold it? Or enforce it?”
I shrugged. “It must depend on men,” I said, “in the end. But must we Dragonmasters enforce it, then we shall. Think you that shall be worse than the cycles of war?”
The Lord Protector looked me in the eye. Then turned to Rwyan; and then to Tezdal. To the Sky Lord he said, “Can this be done? Would your people accept it?”
Tezdal said, “As well as yours. There will be some who … argue … but do you give us back our Homeland, then-yes, I believe we might win this peace.”
Taerl studied him for long moments and then laughed, shaking his head. “By the God,” he said, “my father would not believe this! Look at me!” He rose, kicking back his chair to turn, arms spread wide to encompass us all. I thought he was perhaps a little drunk, or tired by the long night’s talking. “The Lord Protector of Dharbek in earnest discussion of peace with the Sky Lords and the wild Changed. I heed a Sky Lord! And a Changed servant gone from his master across the Slammerkin. I listen to the words of a Storyman. And”-this with a not-entirely- steady bow in Rwyan’s direction-“a rebel mage. Is this not a wonder, my lords?”
I heard a voice then mutter, “Not from you, boy,” but when I looked down the table, I could not find the speaker. I thought it was likely that fat noble in Mardbrecht’s plaid, but I could not be sure. I watched as Taerl crossed to the windows and looked out over the ravaged yards of his palace. He set his elbows on the sill and said wonderingly, “They are all gone. Just as your friend-Bellek?-promised.”
The voice that had muttered before said, louder now, “Then we might slay them. All of them! Why not, Lord Taerl? Cut off the dragon’s head now, and when the other comes back-slay him, or buy him off.”
I saw the speaker now: it was indeed that plump supporter of Jareth. He rose from his chair in his enthusiasm. I saw that his belly was fleshed round as his cheeks. I saw also that Rwyan could no longer hold Tezdal back. I saw rage suffuse the Sky Lord’s face. I still could not believe anyone could draw a blade so swift.
It rose, lit bright by the sun that now spanned the room, glittering as Tezdal strode down the length of that long table. The nobility of Kherbryn cowered before him. Not one moved to halt him. The fat man shrieked: I was minded of pigs at gelding time. He raised both arms above his head and went tumbling over his turned chair as he sought to flee.
This, to my surprise, came from Taerl.
To my much greater surprise, Tezdal did halt. He stood over the quivering figure with lifted sword and naked rage in his eyes. I saw a pool of urine spread out from between the fat man’s thighs. It stank.
Taerl said, “I’d offer my apologies to you, Tezdal Kashijan, for the insult Gaerth of Mardbrecht gave.” He turned to we others and said, “I offer my apologies to you all.”
I watched as Gaerth scrabbled back. Tezdal let him go. He left a wet trail behind. I smelled feces. I wondered what the Lord Protector would do next.
He called the commur who stood guarding the doors forward and said, “Execute this traitor.”
I saw that the commur wore Kherbryn’s plaid; but still he hesitated.
Taerl said, “Do you take my order, or do you join him?”
There was a long silence.
This was akin to bonding with dragons: it was an instant of decision, in which future power becomes decided. I applauded Taerl: he saw the way and took it.
But I was not sure he should succeed until the commur sank his blade into Gaerth’s heart and the fat man died.
Then I truly thought we might succeed.
We lingered seven days in Kherbryn, but I saw no more of the place than I’d already seen from astride Deburah. We were cloistered in Taerl’s palace, locked in discussion, evolving stratagems, composing messages. Sorcerers came and went, deferring to Rwyan as if she were now mistress of their College, their magic sending word of all that had passed and ail that was to be down that occult web that connected the holds and keeps. Mnemonikos came, recorders of what we did, and eyed me as if I were some strangeling marvel. I knew some of them from Durbrecht, but it was as if lifetimes stood between us now, and they were strangers. Or-more correctly, I suppose-I was, for I could no longer pretend I was not different. It was as Rwyan had said: communion with the dragons made us something other than Truemen.
Urt spoke with his Changed fellows and through them sent word in addition to what his kind would hear as aeldors spoke and faceless servitors stood silent by. That should not be for much longer, I thought, for as the word was spread, it must become common knowledge that the Changed were more, and better, than Truemen took them for, and did all go well as we intended, they should find a place beside Truemen in Dharbek. We made it plain that no harm should come them, no retribution, on pain of transgressors answering to our dragons. I suggested that our new-found council grant a place to the Changed-Lan, I said, would likely make a sound representative.
And there were other suggestions-that aeldors such as Sarun and Yanydd have seats; I mentioned Cleton’s name.
In all of this Taerl proved himself far more than the ninny of popular suspicion. I thought he’d likely lived too long beneath the umbra of his father’s reputation, for he constantly demonstrated a quickness of wit, a ready grasp of this fluid situation, that impressed me. I thought that we should leave Dharbek in good hands when we quit our tenure. I had no doubt that we should, eventually. I was altered, I saw the world through different eyes: I missed Deburah when she hunted with Bellek as fervently as I knew I’d miss Rwyan, were we parted again; could I not “speak” with her, I felt an absence in my life, and when she returned, I felt a happiness I’d known before only with Rwyan. I knew we could not remain in Dharbek, not even after our intended journey across the ocean. I knew we must go back to the Dragoncastle and live there, for that was the natural abode of the dragons, and they’d not be happy elsewhere. I felt this as a wordless pressure in my blood, a soul-deep certainty that I could understand no better than I could deny it: it was a given fact and irrevocable. I began, albeit vaguely, to understand why Bellek had remained in that lonely place so long.
But I still did not know
But then that was the least of my concerns: we’d a future to build, a new world to fashion, and that occupied the larger part of my days and nights. It is no small thing to make a revolution.
Provisioned by the Lord Protector and clad in the fresh clothing he supplied us, we set out for Ahn-feshang on the morning of the eighth day.
It was early in the morning and the year, barely past dawn and barely Ennas Day, but the sun stood hot and heavy in a sky devoid of cloud, its blue silvered by the implacable heat. The weight of the Sky Lords’ magic lay hard on Kherbryn and all Of Dharbek, and as I mounted Deburah, I was aware of the hope we carried with us and the terrible burden of responsibility we gave ourselves. We had dictated terms-now we must make good our promises or be forever cursed.
