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NoFhyriticus the Gray, a mainstay for sensible advice, was much missed in his new role as Protector of Hypatia. He was an even-tempered dragon, both slow to anger and slow to trust. He was doing well among the humans of the Directory, but the Copper found himself absentmindedly waiting for him to speak at times, so used to NoFhyriticus’ counsel was he.
Of course he had HeBellereth, as the Aerial Host was much in need of rest and refitting after the expedition against the pirates of Swayport.
LaDibar was still a fixture. The Copper had tried making him an upholder, but he pleaded illness that prevented him from making “a proper exertion in duty, as a Protector should.” He had a vast storehouse of knowledge in that brain of his, however, so he was still useful to the court.
LaDibar still displayed the revolting habit of exploring his ears, nostrils, and gum line with his tailtip when deep in thought.
CoTathanagar had been reluctantly brought into his inner circle. While the Copper found him distasteful, pig-headed, and ambitious, he knew the ins and outs of Sreeksrack’s thrall trade, knew Ankelene politics, knew the hominids, knew which Skotl was forbidden to mate with a Wyrr, yet seemed to get along well with all the clans. Besides, the Copper found it useful to have someone around who, no matter what the job, could supply a name to handle it. And for the most part, those CoTathanagar put forward performed decently enough in their various responsibilities.
And then there were the Twins. SiHazathant the Red and Regalia. But the Imperial Line and the rest of the Lavadome usually just called them the Twins. Others didn’t seem to mind their familiarity, but they gave the Copper the shivers. Brother and sister, looking much alike, always at each other’s side, eating and sleeping together. Of course, they’d shared the same egg so by looking at it one way they were the same dragon, but still—an eerie, otherworldly air hung about them.
They were well-liked by the Ankelenes, too. Always experimenting on their thralls in matters of feeding and breeding and exercise. He’d told them to quit giving thralls dragon-blood; a victory toast among allies or a bribe to bats was one thing, but intentionally breeding a hybrid of something as dangerous as a human—he forbade it.
But they were sensible dragons, fond of feasting, and popular, especially with Ibidio’s little faction. She thought them a blend of AgGriffopse and FeHazathant.
Finally, there was Naf. When the Copper first introduced Naf to speak to his court, it had caused some consternation—a thrall addressing dragons as equals!—but they indulged their Tyr, who could be forgiven a blind spot and a soft heart now and then.
He wanted to discuss the matter of the oliban shortage.
“Drive the gatherers harder,” CoTathanagar advised. “A stout whip hand will get it flowing again.”
“Za! From what, twigs and bare stone?” LaDibar asked. “It’s whipping and greed that got us into this situation to begin with.”
“There’ll be fighting here, if we’re not careful in rationing it,” HeBellereth said, stating the obvious.
“Steaming it rather than burning it makes it last longer. But steaming only works in a small cavern,” LaDibar said. “Or if you stand right over the vat.”
“It must grow naturally somewhere else.”
“The Princedoms of the Sunstruck Sea are said to have it,” LaDibar said, examining the contents of a nostril on tailtip. “There are unexplored islands farther south as well, but the weather is so wild at the equinoxes, colonies or a regular trade would be difficult to maintain.”
“More difficult than us being at each other’s throats light and dark?” NoSohoth asked. Friends of his managed the oliban
trade and the Copper suspected—no, make that knew—he profited from the Imperial concession.
“We have news of the recent battles at Swayport,” HeBellereth said. “Remember that dragon who attacked you over the pirate ship? Four of the Aerial Host tracked him to his refuge. He’s outside now, in chains. The new flier, your brother’s son, was one of the party that captured him.”
What did they expect him to do, order him executed for serving humans in a war?
“Bring him to me.”
The black dragon seemed to fill the Audience Chamber.
“You’re not about to start a fight in here, are you?” the Copper asked.
“No. Whatever they told you, I came with your dragons and their riders willingly. I wished to meet you without fighting.”
“We shall see about that,” the Copper said. “Get those chains off him.”
Thralls brought pry bars and cutters. A few snips and clatters later, he was free. As free as he could be, surrounded by strange dragons and beneath the waiting talons of the Griffaran Guard.
“What is your name?” the Copper asked.
“Shadowcatch.”
“Shadowcatch, my Tyr,” NoSohoth prompted.
“My Tyr,” the prisoner finished.
