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He hurried toward the door, but SiDrakkon was already storming back in, his face spattered. “They’ll just have to get used to the idea,” he said. “I’ll be spending the rest of the day at the bath.”
“In all fairness,” SiMevolant said, “I don’t believe they were throwing their own dung at you. It was some animal’s. I think that makes a difference.”
SiDrakkon ignored him. “The rest of you, go through the Resort, and then to all the hills. Talk to your friends and let them know I’ll be Tyr, and there’s to be no fighting, no changes in control of the hills. No decisions of the Tyr will be voided, no policies changed, and all are welcome to petition me after a six-day mourning period.”
The line dispersed, with SiMevolant sighing. “I was hoping for a banquet….”
Save for Tighlia. She walked, a little stiffly, up to the Copper.
“I see your wings have come in,” she rasped. “What’s wrong with the odd one?”
“An old injury, Granddam,” he replied.
“You call me that just to annoy me, I expect. Well, I’m sorry for you. Come to my outer chambers tomorrow. I have an interesting piece of news for you. Oh, come now. I don’t bite, and after all these years I’m not about to start with you.”
The Copper spent the night in anxiety in the strangely empty Imperial Gardens, trying to make out figures on the milkdrinker’s hill. He wanted to go to Nilrasha, but she couldn’t be linked to him so publicly until he learned what Tighlia had in mind.>NeStirrath stuck his aging, tangle-horned head out of his cavern. “That’s no visitor; that’s one of the Drakwatch, but so long away he’s become a stranger. How are you, Rug—RuGaard. Wings up and out at last, I see!”
“Out, anyway. I’ve not managed up yet.”
“You have heard the news, I expect.”
“Yes. The Tyr is dead. What do you know of it?”
“It happened in his mate’s chambers. I had only a quick word with NoSohoth; he could tell me no more. He advised me to get back down here and ready the Drakwatch, saying those were SiDrakkon’s orders. So here I sit, awaiting further orders.”
“I’m going up.”
“Squeeze up the thrall passages, if you can. The great winding one is blocked by those waiting for news and spreading rumor.”
The Copper took his advice and made his way up to the Imperial kitchens, at some cost of scrapes to the poor, thin-skinned humans he had to squeeze by. He fought his way out into the gardens, past dragons, drakes, dragonelles, and drakka thronging the garden.
Some of SiDrakkon’s Skotl clan kept them back from the doors, exchanging rather profane insults with the catcalling Wyrr.
“We want NiVom back; he was an honest Wyrr!”
“Anklene, more like,” a Skotl roared back.
“Make a breach, you; I’m in the Imperial line,” the Copper boomed, a little surprised at how loud his voice sounded. “Let me in to see my family.”
“Air Spirit, even Batty’s turned up,” someone said.
“NoSohoth,” the Copper roared at the Tyr’s door. “I know you’re on the other side of that. Let me in.”
“He fought with NiVom at the Black River. Let him pass,” someone in the throng shouted.
“He’s a no-line half-wit.”
“Not even hatched in the Lavadome. What business is it of his?”
The portal opened, but the Copper didn’t catch what was said. In any case, the fat Skotl toughs made room for him.
“RuGaard, what a pleasant surprise on this tragic day,” NoSohoth said. Naturally he was the one dragon who pronounced his new appellation effortlessly, as though it had always passed his lips that way. “Follow me.”
Nervous thralls gathered in the shadows. Even the tiniest brazier was aflame, sending out soothing fragrances. At the larger versions blighters worked the fire with bellows.
“Where’s Tighlia? I wish to speak to her,” the Copper said.
“She’s obviously in a delicate condition, shattered by the loss of her mate. It happened in her sleeping chamber, you know. Tyr SiDrakkon is holding court in the Tyr’s chamber.”
