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The thralls perfumed the air.
“HeBellereth, you believe the Ghioz will move against Hypatia?”
“They’ve massed much of their marching army at the passes on the east slopes of the Red Mountains. We couldn’t risk much over-flight of Ghioz itself because of the roc-riders, but there is much river traffic heading up to the Iwensi Gap, heavily laden barges full of grain. That and even more rocs in the south over the Sloai Horsedowns may mean thrust into Hypatia.”
“LaDibar, these rocs, are they fast fliers, or are they more for endurance?” the Copper asked.
“They’re said to be the farthest-flying creatures of the sky over a distance. Griffaran are said to be quicker in a fast flutter, but like dragons they tire after the first sprint.”
“Perhaps Ghioz used them to spread sickness to the Anaean crops,” the Copper said.
“The elves once won a victory in the Age of Wheels by sowing locusts in Old Uldam’s fields,” LaDibar said.
“Anaea is remote and little known,” HeBellereth said, tapping the sculpture of the plateau with his tail-tip. “That plateau cuts them off from all but the strongest climbers.”
“Or fliers.”
“Those hag-riders certainly knew it was important to us,” NoFhyriticus put in. “They attacked Anaea first.”
“Perhaps some of those roc-riders are former dragon-riders,” LaDibar said. “The principles of flight are the same. Same knowledge of winds and safe altitudes, same survival skills . . .”
“The Ghioz seem to be waging a subtle sort of war against us,” the Copper said.
“War! That’s quite an ascent from a few slave-raids,” LaDibar said. Growls of agreement came from the entrance. “Just because we can imagine them poisioning our kern doesn’t make it so.”
“We’ve just had a war, a hard one, against the demen,” NoSohoth said.
The room went silent. The Copper’s decade-long pursuit of a final victory over the demen had wearied the Lavadome. Every hill had suffered losses.
He knew there were whispers. That he was only settling an old score against the race who had wounded him.
“It served its purpose,” the Copper said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “There’ll be no more griffaran eggs stolen now, and we have vast new areas of the Lower World open to traffic. We can use the rivers again without fear, and the Star Tunnel could one day support many dragons.”
“We are short of wholesome kern now, my Tyr,” NoFhyriticus said. “You can’t eat cold, dark, and damp.”
“Still, we have losses to make up,” NoSohoth said. “It doesn’t help that we’ve lost promising hatchlings to the kern-sickness.”
“If it was the Ghioz, the Red Queen picked the perfect time to strike,” HeBellereth said. “Let the Aerial Host go to the islands, Tyr. I’ll burn their slaveships and smash their pens. The winds will be blowing hard in the Sunstruck Sea, they’ll affect those featherweights more than dragons.”
“Perhaps they wish us to do just that,” LaDibar said. “I agree, the Red Queen might know we’re weak now. If we attack her she could rally all Ghioz to the fight.”
“We attack her?” HeBellereth said, stomping his feet so Yellowsand Desert seemed in danger of gaining a few new canyons. “The Ghioz mass in the Horsedowns, stir up trouble in Bant, take slaves from our Upholds, and you speak of us attacking them?”
“Don’t forget the kern poisoning,” the Copper said. “As though we’re rats in some grotty waste-shaft.”
LaDibar stiffened. “That conclusion is utterly unfounded.”
“I have reports of winged birds above Anaea this summer,” the Copper said.
“My Tyr’s information is always very carefully chosen,” LaDibar said. “It always seems to support what my Tyr wants to do. We caught one deman raiding griffaran eggs and suddenly every lost egg is the fault of demen. If the Drakwatch had had trials in logical leaps during your famously long stay in the training caves, your scores would have astounded the Lavadome.”
“I have a scar from an egg-raid and still feel the pain in my firebladder when I grow angry,” the Copper said. “It’s started throbbing again just now, LaDibar.”
“My apologies, Tyr. But nature may have put the blight on the kern. Perhaps some new parasite has found its way to Anaea. Diseased crops are nothing new. Send an Anklene mission to investigate, and we’ll have an answer after observing healthy crops against sick ones for a cycle or two.”
“Years, you mean. We can’t do without kern for years.”
“Who else grows kern?” NoFhyriticus asked. “Perhaps we can trade, somehow, through intermediaries.”
