'Tell me, uncle, since you're so insightful this morning, how is it that, when their lover's thoughts begin to stray, even a blind woman can see through the most finely crafted lies as though they were glass?'
The eyrie-master gave a harsh bark of bitter laughter. 'You are asking me?'
'I learned from a master.'
Meteroa's face became unreadable, the way it always did when he was remembering things from a long time ago. 'That's women,' he said. 'Shower them with pretty words and they'll be insensible to almost anything. Why's that? Because all their capacity to think is occupied with watching every movement of your eyes and listening to every nuance of your voice, searching for the infidelity that they secretly know must be there. Treat them like dogs and they'll fawn at your feet. Throw them a bone now and then and they'll show you far more gratitude.'
Jehal grinned. 'Your advice is as uncompromising as ever. Now tell me about the alchemists. Are they done yet? No!' Jehal clasped his hands together. 'But first tell me about my white dragon. Is she as beautiful as she should be? Is she perfect?'
'So far, Your Highness, she is invisible.'
'She's what?'
'There is no white dragon, Your Highness.'
'What?'
Meteroa raised an eyebrow and a faint smile played around his lips. 'Queen Shezira hasn't told you?'
'Told me what?'
'Apparently the wedding gift you were hoping for has not arrived. Queen Shezira has quite a few hunting dragons resting at Clifftop, but none of them is remotely white.' Meteroa cocked his head and raised his other eyebrow. For a moment Jehal felt an almost overwhelming urge to punch him. He carefully unclenched his fists.
'The best dragon in her eyrie. That is what I was promised.'
The eyrie-master bowed. 'I have made some enquiries. As always, it is the alchemists who have been most pliable. It would seem that some sort of incident occurred on the way. As best I can make out, Queen Shezira came here by way of the Adamantine Palace, but the white did not, and someone took advantage of the opportunity to seize it while it was poorly guarded. However, although there were survivors, including the original alchemist who set out with Her Holiness, none of them has come here. A first-hand account is sorely lacking. You are agape, Your Highness.'
Jehal closed his mouth. 'And so I should be, Lord Eyrie-Master, for what you're telling me is preposterous.'
Meteroa snorted. 'If I didn't know that none of your dragons has been away, Your Highness, my first thought would have been that this was our handiwork.'
'Yes, but since you know that it wasn't, that leaves a rather intriguing mystery, doesn't it? I hope you can solve it swiftly, Eyrie-Master. That white is mine.' He frowned. 'Besides, why would I steal my own present?'
'Why indeed? Shall we move on to the alchemists, Your Highness? I understand they've nearly finished.'
Jehal spat. 'Forget the alchemists! I want to know what happened to my dragon. Unless…' He grinned. 'Unless Queen Shezira stole it from herself, just so that she didn't have to part with it.'
Meteroa shook her head. 'She isn't you, Your Highness. I think it unlikely.'
'Then who?'
Jehal scratched his head. To look after a dragon you needed an eyrie, and no one could be stupid enough to imagine that a pure white dragon would remain a secret for long, wherever it was hidden. So most likely the dragon would return before long. Meteroa was probably right about Shezira, so what was the point? Attacking Queen Shezira? Wasn't that incredibly dangerous? A huge risk to take, and for what? What could be worth such a gamble? What could anyone possibly gain?
A sudden chill seemed to fill the room. What might he do, confronted with this news? Why, someone who didn't know him too well might wonder if he'd call the wedding off…
No. No, she couldn't…
He turned his back on Lord Meteroa, waving him away.
'The alchemists, Your Highness? Grand Master Bellepheros wishes a discreet audience.'
'Yes, yes, yes. Let him come. Now go. I need to think.'
'Yes, Your Highness.' Jehal felt Meteroa bow and begin to back away. 'Once you have finished thinking, Your Highness, I trust you will share whatever wisdom you have found?'
16
The Outsiders
Sollos squelched through the mud with Kemir behind him. To his right, it grew deeper and stickier until it slipped beneath the waters of a mountain lake. To his left, the mud didn't seem to get any better at all, but the forest was thicker and there were even more roots and dead branches in the way. The sun had already dropped behind one of the peaks surrounding the lake, and in another half an hour it was going to be dark. At which point, Sollos thought grimly, we're buggered.
A couple of hours ago it had seemed a reasonable idea. Rider Semian had flown them deeper into the mountains. Sollos guessed they were about fifty miles south-west of their own camp when Semian had started to descend, and then banked in a half-circle around the shore of a lake. The settlement had been obvious enough, and Semian had found a place to land only a mile or so further around the shore. The day was nearly done, but the distance was short, and Sollos had been confident that they'd easily reach the settlement before nightfall.
Then they'd hit the mud.
'What we need are some boards,' grumbled Kemir. 'A pair of long wide boards. Our own mobile path. With a couple of eyes bolted into them to thread a bit of rope through so you can pull them back up out of the mud again. Do you remember that?'
'Aye. Going back a bit, though.'
'Yes. Being out here does that. I can't wait to get out of these shitty mountains. I really don't know why you were so keen to come back here.'
Sollos shrugged. In a way, it went against his own better judgement as well,
'Not that it matters now, I suppose.'
They trudged on. The sun sank lower, the sky darkened, and the mud didn't get any better. The settlement couldn't have been more than a quarter of a mile away. Sollos's legs were starting to burn with the exertion.
'My boot's stuck. Can I hate you yet?'
Sollos only half heard Kemir's complaint. He stopped. He had the distinct feeling he was being watched.
'Oh…' Among the trees, he saw a slight movement. Something was watching him. A snapper. Very slowly Sollos slipped the dragonbone bow off his shoulder. He began to string it.
The snapper advanced slowly. One of its feet sank into the mud. It took a step back and returned to watching.
'Do you-'
'I see it,' muttered Kemir. 'I was just thinking that the one good thing about this mud was that nothing big enough to eat us would be as daft as we are and try to walk through it.'
'It's on firm ground over there.'
'Oh good. Let's walk towards the half-ton man-eating ravening beast then.'
The snapper stepped into the mud again. This time it didn't withdraw. Instead it took another step, and then another. Sollos looked about, but trying to run away wasn't going to work. Most people faced with a snapper simply ended up eaten. The ones who survived usually did so by climbing a tree and managing not to starve to death before the snappers got bored.
Still, Sollos had a bow powerful enough to take down a dragon-knight. So if he hit the snapper in the right place… Except it was going to charge, any second, and his bow still wasn't strung. His hands slipped towards his waist, and to the two long knives he carried there. Waste of time really, facing a snapper with anything short of a lance. He could forget about his armour too. A snapper could bite through anything short of steel plate, and its
