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“Yes, bats go to and fro all the time. That message system.”
“Forget it. At least for now. I need every bat you can scrape up, big and small. But they’ve got to be smart, stealthy, sneaky.”
“That’s a good deal of flying on my part, m’lord.” Uthaned smoothed down his hair and straightened his ears. “A bat setting off on such a flight needs a full belly, and at my age the wing joints pain me.”
“Of course,” the Copper said. “You can practice on me. I’ll show you what to do.”
The Copper walked in the Gardens, thinking. Some of the dragon riders, new to the rock, explored it as well, curious about the underground garden with its strange, spiked, low-light plants, or admiring the view of the lava streams against the dome.
He saw a glimmer of gold, and turned.
“Oh, RuGaard. No, don’t sulk away. Your Tyr calls.”
The Copper turned and approached SiMevolant. He bowed.
“What does my Tyr require of his Upholder?” the Copper asked.
“Just a chat. You looked so queer when the governer-general walked out, I thought you were going to keel over like SiDrakkon. Your face looked just like his. Shocked.”
“I thought you arrived only after he died.”
“I meant to say after he was dead, of course. Anyway, speaking of deaths, superb job on my sister. The more I think about it, the more brilliant it is.”
“What do you mean?”
“The choking. I’ve heard all about it. I have my own sources and messengers, don’t forget.”
“It was an accident.”
“Of course it was. And if it wasn’t, you’ve got your jade set up to take the blame. You’ve got witnesses from two different species and three lines of dragons that can attest that you were nowhere near.”
“She was my mate. She was your sister. How can you speak like that about her?”
“Because she was my sister. Sickly from the moment she came out of the egg and I sat on her while I dined on my late brother.”
“I’m tired. I must beg your—”
SiMevolant flicked around the Copper and blocked his path. “Hold. Since you’ve shown such an aptitude for this, I’ve got a list. A tiny list, the briefest of lists; it’ll take you no time at all to work your way down. The first is your old teacher, NeStirrath.”
“I’ve got a list for you. Traitor. Cretin. Disgrace to—”
“Oh, please. Look, I’ve got a very clever weapon that will help you.” He reached behind his griff and passed the Copper a silver tube, very much like the ones SiDrakkon had kept his oils in. “It’s a dwarvish thing with a blade and a spring and a small vial of toxin drawn from—”
The Copper snatched it out of his hand before the tiny point projecting out of the end could be pointed in his direction.
He looked at the device. A little lever, a—what was the word?—trigger, was set into the side.
He pointed it at SiMevolant.
“Ah-ah-ah-ah,” the new Tyr warned. “Am I stupid enough to hand you an envenomed weapon, or am I so clever I’ve given you a harmless point to test your loyalty, hmmmmm? Or, as a sort of a joke, have I given you one that in fact fires backward out of the thin metal on the bottom? And why am I even putting such doubts in your head? It’s rather like looking at your image in a wavy pool, so many different possibilities in motion. Which do you think I am? Brilliant or an imbecile?”
“I think you’re mad.” He sent the tube spinning off the top of the Rock.
“You had your chance,” SiMevolant said.
“We both did,” the Copper said. “Let’s see how we compare in surviving the consequences.”
The next day the Immortal Memory group met, though it took twice as long for them to gather, and the Copper outlined his plan. NeStirrath improved on it, and a dragon from the Skotl hill promised to go up the western road and try to hurry things along.
