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Alarm bells rang faintly in the town below and Varatheela saw watercraft being hastily loaded.
CuSarrath closed with the striped dragon. “Well, DharSii, like a bit of brass in a bag of gold, you show up again.”
“State your business,” this DharSii—or Quick-Claw—called.
“We have learned that the criminal RuGaard has broken his parole and is making mischief against the Empire here. He is to be turned over to us. I give you the Sun King’s word that he will not be harmed, but he will be rendered flightless and placed somewhere where he can be watched and attended properly.”
“Broke his parole, you say? How careless. By doing what?”
“Do you admit he is here?” CuSarrath asked loudly. CuSarrath was a bright enough dragon, but to his way of thinking, whoever made the most noise won an argument.
The striped red cleared his throat. “I admit to fishing with him from this tower. The sailfish are unusually large this year, CuSarrath. They must have had a rich winter in southern waters.”
“Ha,” CuSarrath said. “You admit it.”
“He gave his word that he would not reenter the Empire, and apart from a rather shabby trick by NiVom on the Isle of Ice, he hasn’t broken that word. Unless you claim Juutfod and the dragon tower, too. Shall I tell them about a change in allegiance? It might anger them—they’re almost a clan unto themselves and they value their independence.”
“We would, if those old saddlesore swaybacks and their gimpy hag were worth it. Bandy words all you like, but Juutfod is part of ancient Hypatia. Hypatia is part of the Dragon Empire.”
“Rubbish and nonsense,” DharSii said. “To listen to the Hypatians, the Eternal East is part of Hypatia, because Trader Iao of the First Directory once emptied his bladder in the sulfur pools while buying tea in Ya-ying. The nearest Hypatian hall is in Quarryness, and that’s more than a day’s gallop away. If you knew your Hypatian law, CuSarrath, unless a fast rider can cover the distance to a Hypatian hall in a day, any borderland is not legally part of the Empire.”
Varatheela did not follow politics, but to her it seemed DharSii was getting the better of the exchange.
“I’m relieved you know where the Hypatian hall is, DharSii. Tell RuGaard that he has three days to get his affairs in order and present himself at the hall in Quarryness, or we’ll come and get him and turn this tower into the legendary rubble-heap of Juutfod.”
“If anyone comes to Quarryness, it will be to buy mustard,” DharSii said. “It’s delicious on poached sailfish. It appears you have three days left to enjoy one, should you care to spend your time in the north more profitably.”
“Three days, DharSii. Tell him if he values his mate’s health and the dragon tower’s continued existence, he should appear.”
At this, the striped dragon looked angry. He let his gaze travel up and down CuSarrath’s fighting line, as if wondering how many he could cripple before being brought down. Varatheela tried to look resolute, but she couldn’t help liking this fellow.
Perhaps fearing a verbal riposte, CuSarrath executed a beautiful flip and reversed direction with two hard flaps. The other six Lights fell in behind him, all trained to turn in the same direction to avoid collision. Varatheela flapped hard and regained her position as second-rearmost by seniority.
They landed in wild country, exhausted. CuSarrath took pity on his fliers and volunteered for the first watch. No telling what might be roaming the woods—Varatheela knew in a vague sort of way that her aunt Wistala had killed a troll somewhere hereabouts.
When CuSarrath’s watch was over and the other dragons felt somewhat revived, there was some grousing about their empty bellies.
“Another cold, comfortless camp,” the oldest of them, AuHazathant, said. He was a leathery old red with thick scales growing in patches.
“Wish we’d just gutted it out and made it back to Quarry-ness.”
The dragon next to him groaned: “Tell that to my wings.”
“Who was that DharSii fellow? I believe I’ve heard of him,” Varatheela said. “He looked like a cross between a Skotl and a Wyrr. How often does that happen?”
“He goes back to Tyr Fehazathant’s days,” AuHazathant said. “I don’t know his clan background. He once commanded the Aerial Host. I was told he murdered the Tyr’s heir. He fled, but I don’t think he was ever formally convicted of the crime. If he did do it, he’s triply clever.”
Varatheela decided to probe. “I was told Queen Tighlia poisoned him.”
“I’d heard SiMevolant did him in.”
Varatheela yawned. “I’m too tired for gossipy history. Shall we be quiet now?”
“I wouldn’t mind a nice piece of sailfin this night,” AuHazathant said. “Any of you had it, mates? It’s so red you’d mistake it for beef. Mouthwatering.”
Varatheela felt her mouth go wet at the thought.
“So, we’re bringing in RuGaard. That’s the urgency,” she said.
