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“It’s no ordinary piece of quartz, or glass. It may be alive, though not as we know it. Many have died to gain or protect it.”
“Again with the sun-shard,” Imfamnia said. “It’s safe in the Lavadome, though I’d rather use it to impress the blighters. What do we care?”
“What is it for, then?” AuRon asked.
“It has something to do with the Wizard Anklemere, and the Lavadome, we believe,” NiVom said.
“Anklemere. I’ve heard of him again and again. If he was so powerful, I wonder how he was ever beaten,” Natasatch said.
“Like many would-be world conquerers, he was so focused on the horizons, he tripped over his own feet,” AuRon said. “That’s how King Naf tells it, anyway.”
“Tell us one thing,” NiVom said. “Your sister, Wistala, if it came between her brother and peace in the Lavadome, which would she choose?”
“Wistala and I have been long apart. She clings to her own ideals about dragons and hominids working together as equals. I know she believes in the Grand Alliance, and is doing her best to further it, but a Queen-Consort or whatever they’re calling her has many duties. I haven’t spoken to her since I became Protector.”
“Perhaps you could sound her out on the matter for us. No need to mention our names, though,” NiVom said.
Imfamnia glared at her mate, and AuRon was sure he heard griff being tightened to keep from rattling.
“She’ll certainly oppose Tyr RuGaard if she believes he’s not playing fair by the hominids she cares for,” AuRon said.
“The Tyr’s reign won’t last forever. I hope your sister is sensible about it, when the end does come.”
“I won’t regret it,” AuRon said.
Imfamnia relaxed a little. “Please, enough idle chatter about our good Tyr. There are all these rumors passing around about him giving up his position to be with his mate and selecting a successor. That sort of rumor gets tongues wagging. Remember, AuRon, and remember for him, Natasatch, this was just idle talk between neighbors. You, NiVom, were up too late working again. I suggest you rest your mouth and your body.”
As if some understanding had passed between them, Imfamnia called out thralls who tied bags of farewell presents around their necks. She opened the bags to highlight a few. Some were delicacies in pots, others trinkets of copper and brass, for wearing or for eating.
“I very much enjoyed this visit,” Natasatch said. “You know you are free to come and spend a few days with us any time.”
“Didn’t I say we would be great friends?” Imfamnia asked. “Perhaps we will come. I want to know what you eat to keep your claws so strong. Mine get worn down just handling fabric, I oath.”
The four dragons exchanged bows and the Protectors of Dairuss took wing. The thralls let out a loud cheer as they rose into the air. AuRon guessed they’d been ordered to, under pain of punishment.
They flew home over the course of a day’s journey of easy, brief flights, laden as they were by presents and trinkets. They opened one of the pots on a mountainside and enjoyed honey-roasted organ meats stuffed with smoked fish.
They passed the trinkets back and forth. Natasatch agreed that it was junk, but they might as well keep it against a rainy day when metal ran short.
Their little cave, looking out on the Golden Dome and Naf’s thriving, smoky city, in the early winter chill, was a welcome relief after the pomp of Ghioz.
They alighted. “Good to be back,” AuRon said. He wondered how soon he could get away to speak to Naf. There was much he wished to discuss.
“I smell Istach,” Natasatch said. “She must have come from the Lavadome with a message.”
In returning to the cave, they woke their offspring. Istach jumped to her feet.
“A dragon, a dragon has come, Father. He wishes to speak to you. He’s back in the deep room.”
AuRon recognized the odor of a healthy male dragon as he descended. The blazing, almost red-orange scales and the black stripes stood out even in the dim reflected light of the deep cave.
“Greetings, AuRon,” DharSii said. “Is this your mate and the mother of your quiet daughter? Honored to meet you, madam. I’m afraid there’s a war in the offing, and we may be on opposite sides of it.”>“Men rarely remember anything once the generation who saw it dies off. They’ve already half-forgotten Tindairuss and NooMoahk. Their deeds might as well be fairy tales, and they had a much more impressive alliance that freed a world. All too soon they were right back to fearing and hating us—not without cause, I suppose. One bad dragon can make thousands of men miserable. I wonder if we’ll ever work it out.”
“Quit wondering and start working to make it happen. Tyr RuGaard could use us. Imfamnia said she’d teach me all about being a Protector. By learning caution from you and charm from her, I’ll be formidable one day, I daresay.”
“Ever the practical dragon-dame. I don’t doubt it, once you get your teeth into a scheme you don’t let go. You’re the best part of me.”
They had a farewell meal the next morning, mostly broths made of animal fats with cold joint jelly so they wouldn’t be weighted down with heavy digestion in the air.
