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SiMevolant would have to find new flowers to contemplate. The thought brought him some pleasure.
Rayg presented him with a rough version of the plan, a mixture of tunneling through the stalactite formations and a new platform added to one of the rising rocks, complete with a drawbridge.
“I made it draw up toward the Lavadome,” Rayg said. “I believe you are more worried about enemies getting down into the Lower World than threats coming up.”
The Copper wondered if Rayg knew more about the jealousies and rivalries and head-hunting going on in the Lavadome than he let on.
“It’s wide. Will it hold?”
“I thought you might like to take carts across. Yes, it will hold. The calculations are there, based on the materials I’ve seen. It’s dwarven notation; can you read that?”
“Hmmm. Do it well, and you’ll get your reward,” the Copper said, dodging the question rather than admitting that a thrall could do something he couldn’t, which seemed wrong in an indefinable way. “How long will it take?”
“Two years. Unless you give me more tunnelers and tools. A furnace on site would speed things up as well.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
It was rather nice to leave all the details and worries in the hands of Rayg. He left instructions to the Drakwatch and the Firemaiden garrison that everything he asked for should be given.
“It will take some time to assemble the materials. Maybe you’d like a little sun?”
Rayg’s eyes lit up. “The surface?”
“Yes. Plenty of food, too. It’s been a good summer; kern is coming out of our ears.”
They had to return for SiDrakkon’s mating, of course. They traveled light, bringing Rayg back to the works to supervise the first stages. A rickety catwalk replaced the gap in the bridge, and the Copper for once was slower than his mate, hobbled by his bad sii.
The Copper quietly warned the Firemaidens to watch Rayg, so that he didn’t use his authority to fashion an escape. The project seemed well begun, and Rayg liked his work and got along well with the other thralls, but there was no telling with hominids.
The Copper went so far as to have Rhea decorate him for the mating banquet, as she had for the first time he’d attended a gathering atop Black Rock. NeStirrath helped him prepare by having a pair of blighters paint his war decorations on his good wing.
SiDrakkon reopened the Imperial Gardens to show all the improvements. There were more statues and galleries and plant beds everywhere, and it had been redesigned so a lone dragon could walk the perimeter in something like isolation, at the cost of making the space less functional for multiple dragons to enjoy.
But then, as Imfamnia liked to remind everyone, “It is our garden.”
Halaflora set herself on some cushions near the banquet trench and spoke to her other sister, now grave in her Firemaid ring.
Their mating flight commenced with a long, expanding flight around Black Rock, then the inner hills, and finally the outer edge of the Lavadome. Thralls had been coached to cheer them from the rooftops and hills, and dragons who knew what was good for them trumpeted their well-wishes.
Imfamnia was in her element at the mating banquet, alternately roaring orders and simpering. The Copper was rather glad for a sickly mate rather than this whirlwind in painted scale. “This? This is nothing,” she said. “Wait until we get a new trade route open. I want everyone to shake off every scale they can. There are some new metal-based paints that will drive everyone mad with excitement when they see them. Such vivid colors!”
“Is it wise to send dragonscale directly to the merchant houses?” Rethothanna asked. “Especially for luxuries? I always thought it was wiser to bring scale to market indirectly, so its source would be harder to trace.”
“And what of it, if the source is found? We control every road and every river in the Lower World for many marches in every direction,” Imfamnia responded. “I’ve even heard the Wheel of Fire has been smashed in the last year by barbarians. Those dwarves had the only army capable of forcing itself anywhere near here, or so my mate says. Isn’t that right, Tyr?”
“Yes, the main threat against us in the Lower World is gone. And as for the Upper, the Ghi men got a lesson,” Tyr SiDrakkon said, for in the Copper’s heart there would only be one Tyr, and the title choked on its way out his lips. “We’ll teach the same to any who dare come against us.”
“War, war, war,” Ibidio said. “You make it more likely with your foolishness and bragging. There’s always risk in war. Always loss.”
The Copper suddenly noticed that Tighlia wasn’t at the celebration. “Where is my granddam?” he asked. “I would like to pay my respects.”
“The old has-been keeps to her room,” SiMevolant said. He’d had his claws painted up with gold striping and added black to his tail. The Copper thought he looked like a bumblebee among the coneflowers bordering one of Anaea’s kernfields.
“She doesn’t like being outdone by our beautiful new queen,” SiMevolant continued, bowing to Imfamnia. “Ladies, look to your mates, for no hearts remain true when Imfamnia passes. Beautiful Imfamnia.”
“I’m going to go see Tighlia. Will you be all right, darling?” the Copper asked his mate. She smiled up at him from her cushions and nodded.
“When has Halaflora ever been all right?” SiMevolant asked, and everyone waggled their eyebrows.
