“When you see my sisters,” Amin said, “speak to them of our time as hatchlings. Remind them of the promise made under the moon. Then, they will know they can trust you.”
She turned her head forward and began to descend toward the far edge of the settlements outside the city.
Amin slowed enough for me to be able to talk to Yaltu without yelling directly into her ear.
“Tell me more about Brazud,” I said.
Yaltu nodded and sighed deeply while she gathered her thoughts. “The city of Brazud is ruled by King Demetrios. He is wicked. He kills for the minor offenses a child might make. He knows the Sitar. They support him, but some say he fears them. They say this is why he does not lead the people against them. But do not speak such things in the presence of others. It is punishable by death.”
I must have been making a face, because she glanced at me and added, “Please do not. He has no mercy.” Her face was a mask of mixed emotions.
I didn’t care about whether he’d show me mercy, but I nodded solemnly to keep Yaltu from worrying. If this king and I ever met, though, we might need to have a few words. Very few.
“So, he was appointed by the Sitar?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No, he captured power from the old leadership.”
I raised an eyebrow. “How did he capture power?”
She hesitated for a moment. I couldn't tell if the memory was a bad one, or if she had to think about it. I had to listen carefully when she spoke again, because her voice was almost a whisper.
“The Sitar had not been seen in many cycles,” she explained. “The people had become enemies of one another. Divisions of age, ancestry, and others caused the people to make war with each other. Those who remained neutral were considered traitors by all sides. People were killed. The world was full of fire.”
She was there; that much was obvious, but whether it was recent history or a long time ago, I couldn’t be sure. But I wanted to know how Demetrios had captured power, so I pushed onward.
“He took advantage of the chaos and appointed himself leader?”
“No,” she said in a hollow voice. “One of the people united the warring factions. Not with war or violence but with words. The people named him their leader. Demetrios killed him and claimed leadership as his own.
“The people were afraid. They did not want war to return. They did not want any more to die. They had known war and peace. They preferred peace, so they allowed Demetrios to rule.
“When the Sitar returned, he bowed to them and swore fealty. They allowed him to rule and granted him even more power. This is where we are today. This is our time.”
Struggles for power were universal across all systems, it seemed.
“Demetrios captured his power more than 20 cycles ago,” Yaltu continued. “He keeps the citizens entertained with bloodshed.”
I thought of cheap entertainment at the expense of others. It was the mindless holovids of the present day. It also kept the people at odds with one another. They did not have to compete among themselves if others did it in their stead.
I suddenly found myself pushed forward against Yaltu’s body, which was pleasant. Skrew’s body was pressed hard against mine, which was not pleasant. He gasped right in my ear, and I wanted to reach over my shoulder and hold his lips closed until we landed.
Amin flapped her wings hard as she brought us to a stop mid-air right in the middle of a thick cloud of acrid smoke. It would help to hide the exact spot where we landed, but it wasn’t pleasant. According to the feelings and sensations the dragon was transmitting, it was even worse for her. But her love of Yaltu was stronger than her desire to remain comfortable.
Amin continued her descent in small circles, kicking dust, pinecones, and litter into the air before landing gently in a small clearing next to a run-down but serviceable single-story house.
The building was constructed mostly of old wood. It appeared to have had recent maintenance, including several layers of cheap, green paint that were peeling from the wet and swollen panels.
We all dismounted, and Amin turned, ran a hundred yards, and launched herself into the air. The smoke kept her hidden, and she continued through it for a while before increasing her altitude. Doing so would help disguise our location if anyone happened to be watching. I hoped I would have the opportunity to spend more time with Amin. I guessed she knew a lot more about tactics and strategy than the average person on this planet.
After only a few steps toward the building, four small people resembling humans burst outside to greet us. Their large noses bounced as they ran, making them appear quite comical. Their faces were flat, and they had no neck to speak of. As funny as they looked, the combination made them appear quite comical, but I sensed a hidden power within each of them, a strength they kept to themselves until they needed to do otherwise. Their dirty faces and hands demonstrated either hard work or crippling poverty.
The leader took Yaltu by the hand and hurried us toward a fifth who was holding the back door to the structure open.
“You’ve returned to us,” the leader murmured reverently.
“I’d be in Skald’s clutches if not for the others,” Yaltu said as she entered the building.
As the door closed behind me, and my eyes adjusted to the near-blackness of the interior, little details began to emerge. The interior of Yaltu’s home was much nicer than the exterior. Woven rugs in brilliant colors covered most of the wood floor. Small guttering candles in simple, polished metal sconces adorned the walls, along with arrangements of dried flowers.
The furniture was sparse and utilitarian, far from what I’d expected such an elegant woman
