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“I don’t know, Tyr,” the Copper repeated.
“He’s lying. He’s an outcast; I’ll put my fringe on it,” a hard-edged voice said. A beautiful green dragon joined the others in the garden. She was rather fleshless about the hips, more so than Mother at her hungriest, and had startling violet eyes.
The dragons and avians dipped their heads at her approach, save for the Tyr, who tickled her under the chin with his tail. The golden drake in the garden bowed especially low.
“Now, Tighlia, how could you know that?” the Tyr said. “Do you know his parentage?”
“No. If I had, I’d order them to have such a cripple drowned.”
“Then do be quiet. I let you have your way with the drakka, don’t I? Let me see to this drake.”
He looked back at the Copper. “You found your way here through the Lower World? Down a river thick with dwarf trunks and demen boats?”
“Yes, Tyr.”
“You’re a drake of singular purpose,” Tyr said. “What did you expect to find here? Safety?”
The Copper wanted to tell the Tyr all about his dreams of protecting his kind from lying, torturing assassins, but when surrounded by all these great dragons, it seemed a silly hatchling fantasy.
“Have you had anything to eat this morning, my love?” Tighlia asked.
“Hot watered fat and a fresh sow’s head.”
“And your kern?”
“Haruuummm…”
Her claws rattled the river-smoothed rocks in the walkway between the door and a garden pool. “I’ll roast your cook. What you need is an elf, not that blighter.”
“But he can braise an ox so that it melts—”
“You’d sleep better if you’d just listen. And there’d be less groaning at your eliminations.”
“Tyr, I must get back to my command,” Yarrick said. “I won’t rest until I see the drake here settled here in the Imperial Resort.”
“What? A half-starved, bedraggled stray here?” Tighlia said. “The bones of my grandsire will crumble.”
The Copper wondered at her hostility. Did she know more of his deeds than she would admit? Why would she not tell the truth, if she knew it, as she was so clearly against him?
“Why, I think that’s a fine idea. We could use some new blood on the Rock.”
“Quite right, Grandsire,” the golden drake said. He crinkled up the corners of his mouth at the Copper, who started, fearing a bite.
“Perhaps we could discuss it later, at feast,” NoSohoth said.
“Delay, delay. You always counsel delay,” the Tyr said. “No, I like the idea. I’ll have him.”
“CuRassathath over by Wind Tunnel and his mate are barren,” Tighlia said. “He could go and live with them. They’ve a lovely hole.”
“There was a time when brave deeds merited a place in the Imperial Resort,” the Tyr said. “I’d like to restore the tradition.”
“You’re always cross and impulsive when you haven’t eaten properly,” Tighlia said.
“I’ve not been cross in years. Cry settled, for I’ve made a decision. NoSohoth, get it inscribed at once. This lad…Oh, dear, what was that name…?”
“I’ve no name, Tyr.” His wound throbbed, but he did his best to stand straight, neck up and head alert.
“I told you. An outcast,” Tighlia said. “And you wanted to settle him in the Black Rock.”
