and the screams and the roars of the dragons had echoed far into the tunnels.
'No, Princess. This means the dragons are gone. The Embers have won.'
'The Embers are dead, Jostan.' Speaking was a trial. Her throat was raw and burning, and every word was a battle against the smoke.
'Yes.' He was smiling, she realised. 'And the dragons ate them.'
She was missing something. She struggled upright. 'Why is that a cause for happiness, Rider Jostan?'
He frowned and peered at her. Twice he opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. At the third attempt words finally came out. 'I'm sorry, Your Highness. I thought you knew.'
'Knew what, Rider?'
'That the Embers…' He wouldn't look at her. 'Highness, the Embers took poison. The bottle that Rider Semian had around his neck, that was poison too. Dragon poison.'
'What are you talking about?' Dragon poison? No such thing. I would have known.
'The Embers, Your Highness, they went out there to die. They knew what awaited them.'
'Poison?' Would she have known?
He bowed his head.
And then it hit her – far, far later than it should have. 'Silence!'
Jostan stared at the ground. 'And Matanizkan and Levanter. I am sorry, Your Highness.'
'Sorry?' For a moment even the smoke didn't matter. Sorry? What use is sorry? My Silence! You've poisoned my Silence. Graceful, elegant, beautiful, perfect-
And trying to kill us, she reminded herself. Or was. No, best not to think about it. Would she ever have sacrificed Silence to save her own life? No. To save Jostan? Semian? No. To save anyone at all? She didn't know.
'I have to see!' She was already getting to her feet.
'No, Your Highness. Wait. It's not safe.'
She screamed at him. 'You've poisoned my Silence! I want to see him.'
'We have to wait.'
'Wait for what?'
'Wait for Rider Semian, Your Highness. He went out to watch. When they're all dead, he will come back and tell us.'
'When they're dead?!' She was rigid with fury. If she'd had claws, she would have torn Jostan to pieces. 'So they're still alive?' She pressed her face up close to his. 'There must be something to take this poison out of them. Poison the white if that's the only way, but not Silence. Not my Silence!' But there wasn't something. The alchemists wouldn't have an antidote. Why would they? And even if they did, it would take hours to walk back to where they were hiding, and hours more to get back to the mouth of the caves.
She turned and ran towards the entrance, heedless of the smoke, but Jostan pulled her down. 'Your Highness!'
'Silence!' She screamed and fought and tore at him. 'My Silence! Don't eat them! Don't!' But Jostan was strong, much too strong, and he wouldn't let her go. She ordered him, cursed him, berated him as best she could before the next coughing fit seized her, but his arms stayed wrapped around her and all her struggles were useless. 'Silence,' she whispered. Tears streamed down her face. Jostan still held her, but his arms were gentle now, and suddenly welcome. She rested her head on his chest and wept. Here in the murderous choking dark she didn't want to be a princess any more.
They crept down the river until they could see the massive pyre at the cave mouth, and there they waited for an hour, maybe longer, before she decided she couldn't bear any more. She was careful this time, waiting until Jostan was distracted before she ran, sprinting along the river bank and then diving into the water when the heat from the fire was too much. She heard Jostan shouting after her, but she didn't look back. By the time he finally caught her, they were already outside, thrashing in the river alongside the fires.
'Keep your head down!' shouted Jostan, and then they were past, and the air was suddenly cold and crisp and deliriously fresh. It felt so gloriously clean that she wanted to gulp it down as fast as she could. For a second she almost forgot about Silence.
And then she saw him. A hundred yards from the river, flat on his belly, eyes closed. Still.
'Your Highness! Wait!' But she didn't, and this time Jostan didn't try to stop her. She hauled herself out of the freezing river and ran as fast as she could, collapsing to the ground by the dragon's head. Silence was gone. She could already feel the heat burning him from the inside.
Jostan came towards her, then saw the look on her face and stopped dead in his tracks.
'Is he…'
Jaslyn shook her head. She couldn't speak.
'I… I should look for the others, Your Highness. Please be careful. The others… They might not…'
He should have taken her back into the cave, and they both knew it. She should have stayed there until all the other dragons had been found. He should never have let her escape in the first place, and her mother would probably have his head for being so careless. But for a moment Jaslyn loved him more than anyone in the world simply for leaving her alone.
67
The Balcony
Jehal watched through the eyes of one of the Taiytakei dragons. He saw the doors of the Tower of Dusk open and watched Shezira storm towards Hyram's keep. He grimaced. Like an arrow from the bow of a master archer, he mused. Straight and deadly and utterly predictable. And when Hyram cannot be roused, what then, mighty Queen? He took off one strip of silk and put on the other, to see through the eyes of the little dragon that he'd left watching over Hyram's bed. The Adamantine Guardsmen had taken Hyram from Zafir's rooms back to his own and put him to bed, just as their new mistress had ordered them. He should be snoring nicely by now. Everyone would assume he was drunk.
The bed was empty.
It took Jehal a couple of seconds and a close inspection to believe what he was seeing, but Hyram was gone. Despite all the poisons, somehow Hyram had woken up and got out of bed. The dragon found him a few minutes later, out on his balcony, leaning over the parapet. His face was slack and vacant and he was shaking; it was all Jehal could do not to laugh. Hyram could have ended up anywhere. As it was, it was a miracle that he hadn't simply tipped over the parapet and dashed himself to pieces on the ground below.
Now there's a thought.
He tore off the silk and fumbled for his boots. 'Kazah! Help me get dressed.' If Shezira got to Hyram and, Hyram could actually string a sentence together, there was just a chance that everything might unravel. He ought to feel afraid, he supposed. Or at least annoyed, alarmed, worried – something like that. Exhilarated though? Not good.
Which only made the feeling stronger. He grinned at Kazah. However this ended, he was definitely going to miss it once it was all over.
Shezira reached Hyram's keep expecting to have to take the place by storm and quite prepared to do so, single-handed if she had to. Instead, the doors were flung open for her, which made her pause. But Hyram was not a murderer. Whatever else he might do, despite all his betrayals, he wasn't a killer.
Nonetheless. She whispered to the two riders she'd brought with her, 'Stay close to me.'
Inside, an old man was waiting for her, so withered and bent he made even Isentine look young. She took a moment to recognise him.
'Wordmaster Herlian?'
He bowed, as best he could. 'Your Holiness.'
'I am here to see Hyram.' She could demand that now. Of course, the Guard might not see it that way.
'He's… Your Holiness, he's not himself.'
Shezira snorted. 'He's not the speaker and he's not a king. I can march straight into his bedchamber whenever
