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The Copper averted his eyes and swallowed.
“Well?” SiDrakkon growled.
Some of the Firemaidens were whispering among themselves.
“Sow—sorry.”
“Be careful with that necklace in battle,” Nivom said. “It gives foemen a good aiming point.”
The lounging drakes chuckled, and even SiDrakkon deflated a little. “Confound it, we were supposed to have more baskets of chickens. Where are they now?” He swung around and stalked back up the line.
Nivom edged closer. “What do you mean, your line was thick-bodied? You still live, so your line does.”
“Bad wing. I’ll never be able to mate.” At least the words came out with a dragonly inflection. He felt comfortable around Nivom.
“Nobody cares about those back-mountain rituals anymore. Well, almost nobody.”
SiDrakkon, satisfied at last with the preparations, set the column in motion. They left the Lavadome, with the tunnel guardians of the Drakwatch and the Firemaids raising their necks and trumpeting.
The families of the thralls in the baggage train who’d made the trip to the assembly camp added their own wails. Bits of wood and bone on string were passed from fathers to sons, or between mates. The Copper had been told a dragon could spend a lifetime describing the different good-luck charms and fetishes of the hominid races.
SiDrakkon placed him behind the thralls of the column, with the rear duelist dragon and the sissa of the Drakwatch. They came to the encircling river and he again took in the wonder of the high-walled cavern, with sunlight falling through the cracks and landing in golden slivers upon the fetid water. A group of hatchlings sunbathed under the watchful eyes of their mother, and two young dragons swam. Probably newly mated, the Copper thought with a pang.
There were boats drawn up for the thralls and provisions. The dragons all swam.
“You’ll need to ride in a boat, I expect,” SiDrakkon said as he watched the thralls load the last boat.
“No, sir. I’m a strong swimmer,” the Copper said, plunging into the water.
“Don’t come crying halfway across. Maybe one of the bodyguards will let you ride on their back, but I won’t carry you.”
“Of cowse not sir.”
“And stop that flapping lisping!”
“Y-yes.”
The Copper clasped limbs to body and swam off after the sissa.
At the other side of river—two bonfires marked the wade-out—the Copper was able to lose his shame again in the fascinating activity of loading and manning the rut-carts.
Here by the river ample cave moss lit the scene. A wide tunnel, with two shining bands of metal running off into its darkening length, left sun-shafted beachfront and disappeared back into the depths of the Lower World. The Copper was so used to the pool of yellow light coming down from the top of the Lavadome or the orange flicker of fat-lamps that the faint green glow of the moss seemed strange again.
Wheeled contraptions rested on the bands of metal. Some had sides; some were just flat platforms, but all ran on four or, rarely, six wheels. The wheels were small things, with lips along the inside that kept them in place on the iron bars. Specialized thralls, barefoot with thick leather belts and wrist braces, minded the oily-smelling joints and laid out and checked pulling lines.
They were dwarvish contraptions, of course.must have been directed at the blighter. Fourfang grinned, showing his sharpened teeth.
“What can you tell me about Bant?” the Copper asked Rethothanna.
She fluttered a griff at NeStirrath. “You mean what kind of food is to be had?”
“No. Our allies in the Uphold. What are they like? How do we keep the peace with them? What’s the nature of this problem SiDrakkon needs to solve? But if there’s some delicacy to be had…well, I’d hate to miss a new feast.”
“He is a promising young thing,” she said to NeStirrath. “Interested in the essentials. Very well. I’ll give you the essential for Bant: water. Bant’s either dry or rainy, depending on the time of year; the rainy season starts right around the summer solstice, usually a little before. It’s made up of rocky, rather dry plains that go lush during the rains and tinder-dry the rest of the year. There are three rivers, all flowing west to the Ocean of the Summer Sun, and it’s control of the rivers that’s everything, for there are rich forests full of trade goods and spices along the rivers. Very good land for herding on the plains, as long as the herds can get to water holes or the rivers in the dry season.
“The elves lived there first, along the rivers, but tribes of blighters came and dispersed them, though they didn’t quite get rid of them. A few still live on in the deeper woods or around the better-watered rock piles. A dwarf or two pass through, usually engaged in trade or craft with the ivory and hardwoods. Some tribes of men as well, distant relations to the Ironriders of the north, I believe, as fierce as the blighters when fighting on horseback.”
“So it’s hard to keep the peace between the groups?” the Copper asked.
