He raised his hands. "I don't want any trouble. I don't have any braids, I swear."
"You were playing Dragon Match and winning," the man said, "don't try to make a fool of me."
"I wouldn't dream of it." Travin cursed to himself. This brigand must have followed him with the intention of relieving him of the proceeds of a night's gaming. "Did you see me paying for drinks all night?"
The man grunted. "You got plenty left. Give it here or you'll feel the pointy end of my blade."
"You don't want to go doing that," Travin replied. Sweet Euru! He didn't feel like being stabbed tonight. Well, this morning if the glow to the east was an indication.
"I don't care one way or another. Braids!"
A sensible man might have just handed over the bag of coins. A sober one even. Travin just got angry and backed up a few steps.
"Keep going, friend. Find someone else to steal from. Or better yet, get honest work and make your own braids."
The man lunged.
Travin ducked and barely managed to stay on his feet. He staggered back a few steps and righted himself. Where was the brigand? Too late, he felt a slice across his arm and the heat of blood flowing freely.
He twisted and reached out with his left hand. He caught the man's wrist. It was slick with sweat, and meaty, but bare.
With a snarl, Travin drove his magic into his would-be attacker, forcing the man's body to stiffness. Teeth gritted; he let his anger overflow like a flood.
The brigand gasped, then began to rock back and forth, desperately trying to breathe. He sagged.
Travin pulled back his hand and let the man fall to his knees.
"I told you to leave," he said softly, although his stomach twisted at what he'd done.
"Gods forsaken magin," the man growled. He climbed to his feet, rubbing his throat.
"I did try to warn you." Travin gingerly touched his own shoulder. The gash was long, but not so deep that a healer couldn't fix it. At worst, he'd have a handy scar from it. The guilt at hurting another person, even a thief, settled heavily. "Be on your way before I tell the constabulary. Or finish the job."
At the last, the brigand turned and lumbered away down the road. Mercifully, he headed away from Tsaisa. He might well have alerted the authorities himself, and claimed Travin had accosted him. If not for the gash, they might even believe the man.
Travin stepped back into the trees, braced himself against the nearest trunk, and bent over to be sick on the ground. He didn't know how much ale he'd drunk, every drop came up now, along with the meal he'd eaten while playing cards. He vaguely recalled the draakin supplying food and a round of drinks for everyone present. Something about celebrating the hatching.
"Commiserations," Saldr had said, before downing a nip of liquor in a gulp.
The idea of alcohol made Travin sick again. "Never… Drinking… Again," he muttered to himself.
He moved a safe distance from the puddle he'd created and slumped down against a trunk. His gash still bled, but once down he couldn't force himself back to his feet.
The eastern sky was brighter now, the stars starting to fade. The chosen would bond in a few hours. Maybe he should get up and go, in case a dragonet changed his mind and wanted Travin instead. He snorted at the idea. To his knowledge that had never happened, and with his luck it wouldn't happen today.
Movement on the road drew his eyes and he thought for a moment the man had come back to finish the job. By the sound of it, he'd brought friends. Travin readied himself to get up and run, when a troop of King Drexin Sheid's men rode into view.
What were they doing here? Perhaps they had come to secure Tsaisa before a draakin brought the king in to attend the bonding. Of course, things must be safe for important people. Meanwhile Travin could have died not an hour ago.
Snorting softly, he closed his eyes and let weariness overcome him.
"You there."
He opened his eyes a crack. Two men, both in leather armour and bearing swords, stood over him.
"What's your business?"
"I'm just a bard trying to get some rest," he replied. Perhaps he should be more polite to men with weapons, but he'd had enough of them for one night.
One of the men looked at Travin in disgust and muttered something about drunkards. Travin started to take exception, but remembered they had swords. After the run-in with the brigand, he should keep a low profile for a while.
"Keep out of trouble," the first man said. "There's plenty of it around these days. A man up the road claimed to have seen a ghoul of some kind, hereabouts. Claimed it tried to take over his body." He smirked.
"Sounds like he needs to drink less," Travin said. Of course the man had made up the tale to cover his part in it. If he admitted a magin had done anything to him, they might start to wonder why. Doubtless he carried any number of stolen items on his person.
The first soldier chuckled. "He might at that. Smelled like he soiled himself."
Travin didn't bother to hide his grimace. "I'd do that too if I saw a ghoul. Luckily I haven't. Just the bottom of too many tankards." Euru, he just wanted to sleep.
The second man grunted and stepped back toward his horse. The first gave Travin a nod, which he responded to with a wan smile.
The sun slipped above the horizon as they rode on, bridles clinking, hooves crunching over the dirt of the road.
Travin realised he must be further out of Tsaisa than he'd thought. He curled up at the base of the tree and let sleep claim him.
5
Laynin left the celebration relatively early, just after midnight. Zannis had long since disappeared with some man or other and left her sitting alone. She could have joined a table of Dragon Match, but decided against it, although she'd spent a good few minutes watching Travin beat his table-mates. If he was disappointed about the hatching, he seemed to have recovered quickly. Perhaps he was simply the kind to try his luck with the dragons, but who had no real interest in riding one.
One of the first back at the annex, she was one of the first to rise in the morning. Only a few kitchen staff were up and working to make breakfast when she arrived. Ara, of course, was there already, and almost finished eating. Laynin had long suspected the woman slept sparingly, if at all. She gave her a nod before ducking into the kitchen for bread and tea.
Even this early, a dozen loaves of bread sat on cooling racks on a bench and a huge pot bubbled with water for tea. Others contained the beginnings of stew, soup or something equally tasty. A spit outside the kitchen would have a roast on it, with the older children assigned to take turns rotating it. Before bonding Risper, Laynin had spent hours doing the onerous task. The result was always delicious, but the work was tedious.
She grabbed a knife and sliced up a loaf of bread that was almost cold. She took two slices for herself and put the remaining slices on a plate for whoever came in after her. Other draakin might just take a slice for themselves and leave, but she liked to be considerate of the kitchen staff.
One gave her a smile of thanks and handed her a bowl of fresh butter and a clean knife to spread it.
"Thank you." Laynin worked to fix her food and pour tea from a ladle into a mug so she could get out of their way.
As she stepped out of the kitchen, she froze.
Two men in armour walked in through the same door she'd used, and stopped at Ara's table. While it wasn't unusual to see the king's men in Tsaisa, the expressions on their faces suggested they weren't here for the bonding.
She chewed her lip. The polite thing to do would be to retreat to the other end of the dining room, where she couldn't overhear. The problem was, she did want to overhear. At least she could avoid being obvious about it. A few steps took her to the nearest table, where she slid into a chair and placed her food down as quietly as possible.
A surreptitious glance toward Ara showed the woman either hadn't noticed, or wasn't concerned. Laynin let out a soft sigh and sipped her tea while the taller soldier spoke.
"
Draakin, we are under orders to inform you of events taking place to the south."
"You had better sit down then." Ara waved for one of the kitchen staff to bring food for the men. She looked as unruffled as always, but the soldier's tone chilled Laynin.
Rather than elaborate straight away, he and his companion sat and took a mouthful of bread and a sip or two of tea first. By then Laynin had almost finished hers, and excuses to linger were diminishing.
"So, you have news?" Apparently even Ara's patience had its limits.
"Yes, draakin. You'll be aware of King Tarlu Rosharias?"
Laynin suppressed a snort. Even the youngest children knew. Learning the names of all the kings and queens on the continent was almost as important as learning those of the dragons and the draakin. Some would argue it was more so, but she'd agree to disagree on the point. At any rate, the coup in Aarle, and his subsequent seizure of the throne some sixteen years ago, was well-known.
"Certainly," Ara replied, her eyes showing a hint of pique at the suggestion she was so ill-informed, or forgetful. "I understand the economy of Aarle has been sound, and indeed growing since he seized power. In spite of his dogged devotion to Euru, I gather he's popular with most Aarlish folk."
The soldier shifted in his chair. "Yes, well, that's accurate. Or it was."
"Ah. Is King Tarlu dead then?" Ara asked. "His heirs are fighting over the throne?"
"What? No." The soldier cleared his throat. "King Tarlu has invaded Alvarios."
Laynin almost choked on her last sip of now cold tea.
"Ah." Ara nodded as though she'd known all along. "Well that's unfortunate."
The soldier gave her an odd look before continuing. "He marched all the way to Thanthaltra, either undetected or at least unstopped. He took the capital in a matter of days, and has laid claim to the entire country. He's declared himself king of both countries."
"How long?" Ara asked.
"Two months at least. We received word in Karmale a month ago. General Sandvaal ordered a dozen of us to get word to the king, and to the draakin."
Ara nodded. "He's assuming I'll offer to fly you to Tharay, or to Paryos to warn King Percier in Paryos?"
The soldier looked embarrassed. "That was mentioned, yes. Indeed, I'm to ask if you don't. Sandvaal was most insistent."
Ara drew the corners of her mouth back. "Was he? Well, lucky for him I think this is important enough to warrant a dragon being sent. Did you hear any forewarning of Rosharias' intentions?"
"None." The soldier who had yet to speak, did so now. "Took us all by surprise. To be honest, we're concerned by what we've heard from people fleeing Alvarios. We've only met a few, but they're spinning a similar tale." He pursed his lips.
"And?" Ara prompted.
"They're saying he executed the king of Alvarios and his entire family. A bloody coup this one."
"So they say." the tall soldier said. "Those fleeing are fearing for their lives. We can't discount the possibility that he's planning something bigger than just taking Alvarios."
"You think he'll invade Marth next?" Ara asked.
The second soldier shrugged. "Can't discount the possibility. Some men can't handle just a little bit of power."
Ara looked over to Laynin, suggesting she'd been aware of her presence the entire time. Of course she had. The woman missed nothing.
"Laynin, once you're finished with your cup and plate, would you kindly go and fetch Luthin for me please?"
"Yes, Ara." Laynin got to her feet and picked up her crockery. She gave a half bow and hurried away while the soldiers looked her over like men who hadn't been alone with a woman for some time.
She stepped into the kitchen, slipped the bowl and cup into a sink full of warm water and gave them a quick wash. She set them aside to dry. Being helpful was one thing, keeping Ara Lucretia waiting was another.
Luthin's room was situated near the top of the Dragonhall. Laynin could have asked Risper to pass a message on to Sala to ask Luthin to come down but no doubt this was Ara's way of getting Laynin out of the dining room so she could ask questions she didn't want overheard. She probably had Nehko on alert if Laynin shirked the task, leaving her no choice but to trot all the way to the top.
Panting, she tapped on the door and waited a few moments before it swung open.
"Ah, Laynin, lovely one. Let me guess." Luthin Maralos lounged against the doorframe. "You remembered our time together and couldn't resist coming back for more?" He gave her a lopsided grin. He was tall and swarthy. When he smiled, it was with an easy, attentive charm, as though the person he bestowed it on was the only other person in the room.
"As tempting as that is…" And it was. She had no regrets about that night, even knowing he'd shared many a night with various women and men from the hall, and Tsaisa. Neither expected a commitment of any kind, just mutual pleasure, and he was a skilled lover. "It will have to wait for another time. Ara needs to see you in the dining room."
"Any time." He winked, then his expression turned serious. She told him what she'd heard. He listened carefully, then clicked his tongue. "We shouldn't keep her waiting then." He closed the door behind him and followed her down the stairs. His long legs soon had him overtaking her, so he had to stop and wait for her to catch up.
"I suspect we may miss the bonding," he said on the second landing.
She stopped for a moment. "I'd forgotten about that. How awful to have their moment overshadowed by something like this."
"I'm certain they won't let it bother them for long. It's not every day a person bonds a dragon."
"Well that's true, but people will be thinking about Rosharias and whether or not Marth will end up at war."
"Possibly. Come on, we should hurry." He held her hand and helped her down the last flight of stairs. Just before they stepped into the dining room, he let it go.
Ara was still seated at the table, her head bent, deep in conversation with the soldiers. Luthin cleared his throat and all three looked up, startled.
Laynin hesitated at the door, uncertain if she should step inside until Ara waved them both over.
"Luthin, Laynin, I have tasks for you both. These men require a ride to Tharay. From there, we'll be conveying word of Rosharias's actions to Paryos."
Laynin's heart leapt with excitement. She'd take any excuse to fly, and she hadn't been to Paryos in a long time. Her heart sank when Ara continued.
"Luthin and I will be going personally. Laynin, you'll stay here and oversee the bonding, and the ensuing feast."
Laynin's lips drew back, ready to form the word "but". It died unsaid as Ara gave her a stern look.
"Unless you don't feel up to the task?"
If there was anything which would make Laynin comply, it was the suggestion that she doubted herself. She straightened her back. "I can do it. Thank you for the honour." She didn't miss Ara's smirk. The woman knew her—and her pride—far too well.
6
Varn and Marlia wore identical masks of nervous excitement; a stark contrast to the hangovers of most of the others gathered.
Laynin wrinkled her nose at the smell of stale alcohol and noted the absences as well as those present. Zannis wasn't here, as well as another draakin her friend liked to spend her nights with on occasion.
Laynin signalled for the hopeful carrying a box of meat scraps to toss them to the dragonets. Uncurling from where he'd spent the night beside his dam, Zald spread his small wings and leapt at the first scrap. He caught it neatly and started to chew. Karm joined him a moment later, and it became a game for the hopefuls to see who could throw high enough to make the dragonets leap skyward for the morsel.
One, a red-headed girl with abundant freckles, threw a piece which rose almost to the height of the annex's roof. With a warble, Karm leapt, wings beating frantically. He lunged before the meat started its downward plunge, grabbing it in his mouth before landing gracefully. His adoring audience gave him a rousing cheer.
Apparently not wanting to miss
out on his share of the attention, Zald nudged him and spread his wings, ready for his turn. The same girl threw another piece, not quite as high as the previous one. He did a little leap sideways, stuck his neck out and caught it a handspan from the ground. He too got a clap from those gathered.
The meat gone, Laynin beckoned the chosen over and picked up a deep blue robe from where it sat, neatly folded, at her feet. One of them, according to Ara, had been made before she'd bonded Nehko, and worn by her for just that occasion. It looked a little faded now, but was still in good repair. The other robe was a little older, and looked as though the time to replace it was coming. Laynin made a mental note to speak to Ara about it.
She handed a robe to each of the chosen. "Put those on over your clothes. Wearing these is a tradition which goes back to the first bondings."
Was there a purpose to them? she asked Risper.
I believe it was prestige. Blue was a difficult shade to dye cloth. An enterprising person brought goris to the four kingdoms. Their blue berries work as a dye as well as a salve for pain in the body. The tradition remains.
Blue fabric is still the most expensive.
As you say.
Laynin stepped back to give them space to slip the robes over their heads. Varn had to shake his out, and grimaced, but didn't say a word. Laynin bit back a smile. The robe fell almost to his feet, and did look a bit like a dress. Still, he had the sense to know bonding a dragon would be worth being naked for. Luckily that wasn't the tradition.
"What did I miss?" Zannis said in Laynin's ear, making her jump.
"Nothing yet. Except to clean your teeth." Laynin waved a hand in front of her face.
"Sorry," Zannis said, not looking apologetic at all. "I did hurry to get here."
Her choice of words was clearly intended to breathe more of her morning breath onto her. Laynin elbowed her friend. "If you don't stop that, I'll feed you to Risper."
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