City of Dragons

else.

He felt Fente as a light touch on his thoughts. His green queen, among the smallest of the dragons, sent him consolation and her irritation with him. While you belong to me, you belong here, she assured him. Stop worrying about finding a mate. You will have years of your life to do that, decades, a long time by human reckoning. What I see is that both Heeby and Sintara have reached the city and that they can now fly and hunt, while I go hungry still. How will you get me to the city so that I can bathe and grow and fly? That should be the thought that fills your mind above all others.

A wave of calm flowed through him. It was tinged with pleasure and excitement that his dragon deigned to speak with him. Intellectually, he knew it was glamour. Emotionally, he was glad to turn away from his aching pride and toward the purpose the dragon offered him. He did have a place in the world, and he was of value. Fente told him so. Let his human cares fall away. He had a dragon to tend.

Alise was still considering Rapskal’s words. The others awaited her response. Tats stepped into that gap, lifting his voice to speak for the dragons. “As keepers, we have an immediate task as well. We need to get the dragons to the city. That is plain. Some of our dragons are capable of short flights. Achieving flight that will let them cross the river must now be our primary task.”

Mercor snorted. It was not a loud noise, but all turned toward the golden drake. “Keepers cannot teach a dragon to fly. Dragons must recall what we once knew. But Tats is right. It must be our sole focus, from dawn to dusk. Some of us have been trying. Others have been content to complain and sulk. Know now that those of us who master flight will leave you behind here, without regrets. Begin today. Become dragons or die here.”

The quiet that followed his words was somber. Of the dragons who had congregated, none spoke. When a short time had elapsed, Alise lifted her voice. “I’ve made a decision about the city,” she began.

“It does not matter what you have decided.” Mercor’s tone was gentle, almost kindly for a dragon. It was also relentless. “The decision is not yours. Rapskal has almost grasped the truth of it. The city lives and it awaits us. But it is not an Elderling city. They built it, and they lived alongside us. But Kelsingra was created for dragons. As soon as we can cross, Alise, we will revive the city. You are welcome to come with us. There have always been scribes, human and Elderling, who recorded our lives and thoughts. We have always elevated our poets and singers and those who celebrated our lives. You have a place among us. And honor.”

He swung his head, studying the keepers. “Dress as befits those who serve dragons. And go forth to the hunt today, all of you. Much meat will be needed, and giving strength to your dragon is now your primary goal. We will fly. When we cross to Kelsingra, you will all go with us, and the city will be ours again.”

Day the 2nd of the Fish Moon

Year the 7th of the Independent Alliance of Traders

From Detozi, Keeper of the Birds, Trehaug

To Reyall, Acting Keeper of the Birds, Bingtown

Reyall, I am happy to once more have birds cleared to fly to you and to tell you that all our news is good for a change. Since Erek and I have smudged our coops, we have not lost a single bird to the red lice. I have said little of how poorly Erek was initially received here by the other keepers and the Trehaug Master of the Birds. Now I am delighted to say that all have expressed awe at his wisdom in solving this crisis and are treating him as befits his skill and knowledge of birds. I am so proud of your uncle.

For that, of course, is my other good news. Despite many worries and the mishaps that plague any occasion, Erek and I are now wed. Our ceremony was held at the highest platform in the canopy, blessed by sun and a light wind fragrant with blossom and dancing butterflies. We would both have been content to speak our promise with considerably less formality, but as your grandparents had never expected me to wed, I think they felt a need to flaunt this wedding! And the beauty of that ceremony will be mine to keep for the rest of our lives.

And now comes the time when I must consider well what to pack up to take with me to Bingtown. And even harder, I must choose what to leave here and bid farewell to my own birds. I caution you to have your uncle’s cotes and coops in perfect condition for when we arrive! All he can speak of is seeing his birds again. I dread the veils I must don for the journey to Bingtown, and it is hard for me to think of walking veiled in his city by the sea. But, of course, being with Erek is well worth these sacrifices.

Detozi

Chapter Fourteen

SHOPPING

“I really don’t see what you think I can do about it. Or why I should do anything at all.”

Hest spoke the words knowing the reaction it would get from his father. The man had been determined to be unpleasant to him since the day he was born. Some time in his teens, he had realized that he might as well enjoy provoking him, as Trader Finbok was going to behave like a pompous fool to him no matter how well Hest spoke to him. And after his recent scare, it felt good to be defiant without flinching. So he said the words and then quite deliberately leaned back in his chair as if perfectly relaxed.

His father’s flushed face went a darker red, and his left eyelid twitched. He rattled in a breath through his red-veined nose. His features were more the product of his early years spent on the deck of a ship making trading trips to the north countries than his current fondness for dark wines. Not that he wasn’t drinking today. And an excellent vintage, too. While Hest waited for him to cobble a rebuke together, he sipped from his own glass. Yes. A very nice bouquet. Was that a touch of cherry? He held it to the winter afternoon light that was streaming through the windows. A lovely color. But the hand that held it was still bandaged, and the sight of it snatched away his pleasure in the wine. The cuts on his nose and chest had been fine and shallow; they had closed quickly and were easily concealed. But his hand was a daily reminder to him of the man who had terrorized and humiliated him. He set his teeth and then became aware his father was speaking.

“As to what you can do, you can go and fetch your wife home! As to why you should do it, for the sake of your family name. For your marriage. For the sake of getting an heir for your line. And to put an end to the gossip about all of it.”

“Gossip?” Hest lifted one sculpted eyebrow. “Is there gossip? I’ve heard nothing in my circles. My friends regard Alise’s abandonment of me as old news. Sad and dreary but totally unworthy of gossip. All the excitement was over months ago. By the time I returned from my trading trip to Jamaillia, well, the situation had settled. She was gone. I did my best with the woman, but she ran off. With my secretary. There was a bit of drama when it was presumed they’d been drowned in that flood, but now that we’ve heard that they are alive and fine, well, what more is there to say? She has left me, and quite frankly, her absence is a relief. I’m glad to let her go.”

Hest corrected the fall of lace from one of his cuffs. The shirt was a new one, in the latest style from Jamaillia City. He enjoyed how the lace held its shape in a half cup around his elegant hands even as he was privately annoyed with its scratchiness. Sometimes there was a price to pay for appearances. Rather like the price he’d had to pay to hire the ruffian who assured him he could track down and do away with the Chalcedean. The fellow he’d hired had an impeccable reputation for foul play. It had been rather exciting to meet him clandestinely in a filthy waterfront tavern. Garrod was a man a few years old than Hest, with ears so studded with tiny glittering earrings that they reminded him of abalone shells. “One for each man finished,” he’d told Hest.

“And soon you’ll add another,” Hest had replied, sliding the packet of money across the table. Garrod had nodded, his teeth white, his eyes confident. The perfect man for the job. At another time, Hest might have found him attractive in quite a different way. He smiled at the memory as he lifted his eyes to his father’s furious gaze.

Trader Finbok leaned forward and set his glass down on the table at his elbow. “Are you truly that stupid?” he demanded in disgust. “Just ‘let her go’? Walk away from the biggest opportunity that fate has ever tumbled into your lap?” He rose with a grunt to pace the room.

It was a large room with good light in the winter. Hest looked forward to calling it his own one day. Of