Kierion melded with Riona, “He has no right to prevent me riding you.”
“The council is the council. If Queen Zaarusha agrees to their ban, we dragons are bound to follow her edict.”
Tonio hung back. “I see from your expression that you feel this is unfair. After all, you were only with your best friend, whom you trust. Is that right?”
Kierion shrugged. What was the spymaster up to?
Tonio sat, steepling his fingers. “I have a delicate compromise,” he said quietly. “You may consort with mages if you agree to do me a favor.”
“And what’s that?” Kierion asked.
Tonio smiled, the type of smile a geezer in the Montanarian marketplace had given Kierion right before he’d nicked his purse full of coin. “You’ll see,” said Tonio. “Just the odd errand. All perfectly harmless.”
Dragon Stunts
It was dawn, once again, as Riona and Kierion headed out over the basin, but this time their saddlebags were bulging with Roberto’s fishing nets. He pulled his cloak tighter against the cold wind, and hunkered down on Riona’s neck. It was good to be outside again after being cooped up in the infirmary yesterday.
“This breeze should blow the last of the cobwebs from your mind,” Riona said as they flew toward the lake’s dark surface.
“I’m afraid the fish will still be asleep.”
“Do fish sleep?” Riona’s curiosity stirred in his mind.
Kierion laughed. “Who knows?”
They landed on the shore, and Kierion laid the nets out on the snow, then clambered back up into the saddle. Riona grasped the ends of a net and trailed it through the water.
“You know,” said Kierion, shaking his head, “using his nets makes me wonder how Roberto is.” A dark shiver snaked down his spine. It seemed so wrong to be preparing for a feast when their master of mental faculties was Zens’ captive.
§
Ezaara woke, gasping, her forehead beaded in sweat. She clutched her head, trying to clear the awful scenes from her mind. In this latest nightmare, Zens had held up his hands, squeezing them. A crushing pressure had tightened, like metal bands, around Roberto’s head. He’d collapsed, writhing on the stone, screaming. The band increased until his nose bleed.
Zens towered over a gasping Roberto. “You know you’re mine. I made you what you are. Everything you have, everything you’ve done, everything you will do, is because of me.”
000 had stalked in, claws dripping with green gunge. “Now, boss?” After a cursory nod from Zens, 000 raked Roberto’s chest. The green slime entered the wounds, dissolving in Roberto’s blood—limplock. He’d been poisoned and had a few days to live.
Ezaara’s heart was still rattling like a quiver of arrows. With such frightening dreams, no wonder she was afraid to sleep.
What if this was really happening to Roberto? Some kind of premonition, like her father, Taliesin and Lovina sometimes had?
She shook her head. Ridiculous. Although she had some talents, prophecy wasn’t one of them. Her hand flew to the comforting crystal at her neck. Oh, the teardrop was hot—not hot enough to burn, but hot enough to be uncomfortable. She touched it again. Yes, definitely warm. Strange. It shouldn’t be. She’d had it on the outside of her nightgown all night.
Ezaara got out of bed and dressed quickly. She touched the teardrop again. It was cooling already. Today was race day. Tomorrow, the council would rescue Roberto. In the seven days since she’d visited Death Valley, she’d rushed from flight training high on rocky crags, to strategy lessons in the main cavern, then to the target range—time and time again—training new dragon riders. Derek, master of instruction, had been observing her lessons. Shards, she’d been so distracted with Roberto being tortured, she was sure she’d done a lousy job, but yesterday, he’d given her the nod. After three moons here, she was now able to train new riders without supervision. The last task before she was inducted as Queen’s Rider was today’s race.
Zaarusha snorted. “Typical riders. I chose you back at the clearing in Lush Valley three moons ago. I knew you were right. But no, they had to perform mental tests and train you further … Ridiculous. They should trust their queen.”
“Roberto does trust you, Zaarusha. But dragons can be turned by swayweed. What if I was feeding it to you? Then the whole realm would be in danger.”
“At least you’ll be full Queen’s Rider with all the power to rule the realm after the race tomorrow.”
“What’s the race like?”
“Challenging but fun. They’ll test stunts and speed.” Zaarusha appeared at the archway between her den and Ezaara’s cavern. The queen huffed her breath out, warming the air. Ezaara scratched Zaarusha’s eye ridges. “Ah, that feels good, my favorite spot,” Zaarusha purred. “Your fingers are cold. You need a warm brew. Fetch your cup.”
She scalded the water. Ezaara added soppleberries to it, then sat back on her bed, drinking tea.
Feet sounded outside her door and someone knocked.
So early? Ezaara opened it to Tomaaz and Lovina. “Come in. Want some tea?”
“That would be great,” said Tomaaz, taking cups to Zaarusha.
Lovina drummed her fingers against a flat bundle wrapped in cloth, tucked under her other arm.
“What’s going on?” Ezaara asked.
Lovina chewed her lip. “I don’t know if Zaarusha will be safe at the race today. This morning I saw a vision and was overcome with a strong compulsion to paint. This came out.” She tugged the cloth away, exposing a painting of Zaarusha being swallowed by flame. The queen’s scales were blistered. Her wings charred and ragged.
Dread coiled in Ezaara’s stomach.
“I kept seeing it until I’d painted it.”
“It’s a shame you can’t see the dragon creating the flames. Then we’d know who it is.” Tomaaz brought the
