by Devin Hanson
Meria turned and saw the dragon Avandakossi sweep over the eastern mountains and approach Andronath. It was an unsettling sight. The Speaker might be comfortable with dragons, but they terrified Meria on a level below rational thought.
“Empty night,” Amir said quietly. “That is not something you get used to.”
“I think,” Michael said a little unsteadily, “that I will wait until tomorrow before trying the monoplane.”
Jules Vierra leaned over a map of Salia spread out on the table. One hand was wrapped around the hilt of her short sword, the blade of which was etched with her own collection of alchemical Sayings. One finger tapped the pommel unconsciously. She had her dark hair back in a braid, but a strand had worked its way free and was drifting in front of her face.
Numerous wooden markers were scattered over the map, representing best-guess locations of airships and troop concentrations. Most of the intelligence had been brought by alchemists returning to Andronath, but a steady stream of information came in through the Fraternity Sicaria, a branch of the Alchemists Guild that acted as a hidden policing agency and enforced the Guild’s strict laws.
A pair of wardens were going through a stack of mail, extracting data from the contents and making adjustments to the markers on the map according to what they found. Jules frowned as the marker for the Black Drake, Baron Priah’s private airship, was shifted from Galdaris to Ardhal. Corvis Priah was checking in on the development of his replacement fleet.
She allowed herself a tight smile. Without the resources of Andronath, creating new airships would be hellishly difficult. Of course, a properly trained alchemist should be able to carve an Airweight Saying, but the kind of person who scorned the traditions of the Alchemists Guild and broke off to be part of Trent’s rebellion was unlikely to have learned their runes very well. It was almost poetic.
Jules brushed the stray lock of hair back behind an ear. The movement of the airships in Salia showed they were following standard trade routes. If King Delran had ordered the ships to carry troops to battle against Andronath, they would be taking different paths. For now, at least, Andronath wasn’t in any immediate danger.
A door swung open, and quiet words in Maari were exchanged, then one of the wardens working on the map cleared his throat behind her.
“Yes?” Jules asked without looking up.
“Avandakossi has been spotted approaching the city.”
“And the Speaker?”
“It is too far to see. The Spear is preparing horses in the western stables.”
“Ava comes from the west?”
“As you say.”
Jules opened her mouth to ask more questions, and then shut it again. The warden wouldn’t know the answers she wanted. “Thank you. Send a runner; let Iria know I’ll be there soon.”
“It will be done.”
Jules gave one last look at the map and shook her head. She could spend all day staring at the map and it would change nothing of consequence. Iria would be waiting for her. Jules turned and left, leaving the wardens behind with their meticulous updating of the map.
The eastern stables weren’t far, and she resisted the urge to break into a run. Despite the lack of aggression from Salia, people seeing her run through the Academy would spread rumors. She didn’t want to cause an unfounded panic. She kept herself to a brisk walk and reached the stables just as the horses were being led from the stables.
Iria Mian saw her coming and waved. “I had an extra horse saddled for the Speaker,” Iria said. There was a spear of wardens wearing the insignia of the Speaker’s Guard mounted as well, one of which had the bridle of a spare horse lashed to his saddle horn.
Jules swung herself up into the saddle, trying to decide if she was angry with Andrew. On the one hand, going off on his own was dangerous. On the other hand, he had Avandakossi with him, and the dragon was fiercely protective; besides, it wasn’t like they could squeeze a spear of wardens onto Ava’s back with him.
By the time they had worked their way down the city and out the western gate, Ava was settling down on the far side of a low rise a short ride from the city. An unspoken agreement kept the dragon from landing within sight of the walls. There was no need to panic the citizens of Andronath unnecessarily.
The riders reached the little dell a few minutes later. The dell was one of Ava’s preferred landing spots, secluded but within an easy ride of the city. On the approach to the clearing, the horses started whickering and rolling their eyes, beginning to panic at the scent of burnt cinnamon drifting in the breeze. The animals could be driven to within a few dozen paces of a dragon, but it wasn’t worth the stress on the horses.
Jules and Iria dismounted and handed their reins to the wardens, making the final approach on foot. Andrew was sitting on a stone, his riding leathers loose, one hand scratching the dragon behind a horn. He was talking quietly with the dragon, his words a meaningless garble of grumbles and growls.
Ava lifted her head as Jules stepped into the clearing, then relaxed in recognition. Iria followed behind Jules until they reached a spot about halfway into the clearing then stopped, sitting back on her heels and letting Jules approach on her own. The dragon was finicky about who she let approach her. While Ava had never refused Iria’s requests to approach, Jules was the only one besides Andrew who didn’t have to ask permission.
Andrew stood up and swept Jules into an embrace. “It’s good to see you,” he said.
Jules leaned against him, the scent of his riding leathers mingling with the cinnamon in a combination that was rather pleasant. Whatever anger she had felt back in Andronath had faded away and she was happy just to see him safe again. “Where did you go?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was going. Ava kind of sprung the trip on me.”
“And I’m sure the thought of going for a ride didn’t make you go running as soon as Ava told you she was coming.”
“Well, that too. To answer your question though, Ava took us into the northern wastes. She showed me a city, or the ruins of one. Jules, it was enormous! Many times the size of Khar Bora.”
“In the wastes?” Jules pulled away far enough so she could tilt her head back and see Andrew’s face. He wasn’t joking. “There are cities there?”
“It was on the coast. I’ll tell you about it later, but that’s not the biggest thing. Hold on,” Andrew said a few words to Ava and got a grunt in return, then called Iria over. “It’s fine, she says you can approach. You should hear this too.” Once Iria had joined them, he gave a brief description of the confrontation between the dragons, and Ava’s determination to find those among the kossi who were willing to go back to the old alliance between man and dragon.
“But,” he finished, “while there are still Incantors living, most dragons won’t even hear of it. We need to do something about Trent and his friends.”
“This will not be easy,” Iria said. “The Salians have little respect for justice. We cannot simply ride in and slay the corrupted ones like we could in Nas Shahr.”
“She’s right,” Jules shook her head.
“There must be a solution,” Andrew insisted, “even if it isn’t immediately obvious. Ava will do what she can to convince the other dragons, but nothing speaks quite so loud as results. We find a few Incantors and kill them, and the dragons will see it as proof we mean what we say.”
“Let us not forget,” Iria said darkly, “that every day the Incantors go on living, innocents lose their lives to feed their power.”
“Of course.” Jules bowed her head, thinking furiously. If only Trent had not forced her hand and made her denounce her father. As things stood, she could not publicly appear in Galdaris. But if Baron Priah was in Ardhal, it was likely Trent and the rebel alchemists were there as well. Who else could turn the cast iron airship engines into airon? “There may be a way,” she said slowly. “We may not be able to move freely through Galdaris, but the smaller towns are not so heavily guarded.”
“The warden
s could capture any town in Salia,” Iria said doubtfully, “but it would send us into war. A full-scale war with Salia is not one I think we could win easily.”
“No. Tiny gods, no. I’m not talking about a military action. We only need to eliminate Incantors. A small strike force would be enough, one that could enter a town without remark.”
“We need to find them first,” Andrew pointed out. “We don’t know which town they are in.”
“Oh, but we do.” Jules explained the logic behind the airship movements.
“Ardhal.” Andrew sighed. “I’m going.” He held up a hand as both women turned to him to protest. “I’m going because I know the town. I grew up there, remember. And besides, I don’t need coddling. If we’re fighting Incantors, we’ll need the best. I can’t send wardens to fight alchemists, they’d be slaughtered.”
Iria sniffed. “I was killing alchemists long before you came to Nas Shahr, Andrew Condign.”
“You’re the Speaker, Andrew,” Jules said, “The only one. You can’t risk yourself.”
Ava shifted as voices rose and the humans fell silent as she swung her head around to peer at them. She rumbled, clearly asking a question. Andrew replied, his voice irritated, and Ava said something back. Having settled whatever she wanted clarification on, the dragon laid back down.
“What did Ava say?” Jules asked.
“She asked what the argument was about, I asked her what she thought I should do.”
“And?” Iria prompted.
“She said, ‘You are the Speaker.’ Typical.”
“What does that mean?” Jules asked.
“Ava seems to think it’s self-explanatory. As if pointing that out solves all difficulties,” Andrew grumbled. “In this case, I think she’s saying it is the Speaker’s duty to do the work that needs to be done.”
“Or she’s saying that you shouldn’t risk yourself,” Jules argued.
“And do what? Send you in my stead? Send Iria? Send wardens? How could I send people into danger that I’m not willing to risk myself? People, I might add, who are less qualified to face Incantors than I am. Out of everyone in Andronath, Jules, you’re the only one who might be better able to kill an Incantor.”
Jules crossed her arms and glared at Andrew. She knew he was right. Andrew hadn’t spent the last six months in idleness. Under the tutelage of Iria and the wardens, Andrew had grown competent in the use of sword and dagger, if still ludicrously outmatched by even the least of the wardens. When he wasn’t out sweating in the fields training with the wardens, he had been studying under Jules, expanding his knowledge of the science of alchemy and runing. And, of course, he had the Rune Song, the ability to create Sayings as needed and control the flow of alchemy as he willed.
He might be right, but she didn’t have to like it.
“Two spears,” Iria said, breaking Jules’s train of thought. “You may go, but with no less than two spears, including Adnan Hakhim and myself.”
“And me,” Jules said firmly. “I have connections to the Fraternity contacts in Ardhal. They will put us on the right track. And there’s no way I’m letting you go without me.”
“I’m glad I have your permission,” Andrew said sarcastically. “But what of the rest of the wardens? They left Nas Shahr to fight the Incantors. They would want to participate as well.”
“They had one home cut from beneath them,” Iria said dryly. “I pity the force that tries to take Andronath in our absence. Do not worry about the wardens overmuch. They know the value of a safe haven.”
“If we’re going, we must be swift,” Jules said. “It is only a day’s journey by airship to Ardhal, but if we wait too long, the alchemists may disperse.”
“We need a plan,” Iria countered. “Infiltration without information cannot help but go poorly.”
“Well, we can’t make a plan here,” Andrew said, rubbing his hands together. “I need a bath. I’ve been on Ava’s back since dawn and as much as I love her, I don’t love smelling like burnt cinnamon.”
Andrew turned to the dragon and crooned at her, unhooking the harness as he spoke. When he finished, he took a moment to rub the scales around her eyelid. Ava leaned into the scratches, then shook herself and stood. With a last rumbling reply to the Speaker, she launched herself into the air.
Jules turned her back against the gale of grit and twigs, then shaded her eyes to watch Ava ascend into the sky. With a last trumpeting bellow, the dragon swung to the north and disappeared over the mountains.
“She goes into danger,” Andrew said sadly. “I fear for her, but she must do what she can, just as I must.”
“She’ll be fine,” Jules said, slipping under Andrew’s arm. “You’ll see. She’s survived for two thousand years. I’m sure she’ll survive for a few more weeks.”
Chapter 4
Dragongas
Travis Bellwether hunched his shoulders as he rode on the wagon bench and fought the urge to whip his oxen into something faster than the lumbering pace they were traveling at. A dragon had been spotted far to the north flying into the mountains. In the middle of the day!
Andronath was still miles away. If he forced the oxen to go at the pace he wanted, they would be dead within the mile. Maybe, if the dragon returned, it would decide to eat his cargo instead of him. Fifteen wagons carrying alchemical coldboxes, crammed with a ton of meat apiece, and another five wagons loaded down with sacks of grain. For a city the size of Andronath, food had to be constantly shipped in. It was too far north to produce all of its own food, and the majority of imports from Salia were cargo such as what he was bringing.
Assuming he survived the trip, his goods would bring a high price. If the people of Andronath were desperate enough, it was possible he could demand payment in vitae. That was the optimum transaction. Failing that, he hoped to use the proceeds to purchase vitae in small quantities until he had enough to perform the large-scale alchemy on the airship engines.
According to the alchemists sitting safely in Ardhal, each engine required ten vials of dragongas, at a minimum. Travis had no way to tell if the alchemists were padding that number in hopes of skimming off the leftovers, but he strongly suspected it. Ten vials… how much could that possibly cost? Hopefully less than what he could earn with fifteen tons of meat and another five tons of grain. He dreaded the thought of having to make multiple trips, but maybe he could prove the concept viable and delegate the actual journey to some other unlucky sod.
Dragons were few and far between in the southern reaches of Salia, where Travis had grown up. It was unusual to see a dragon more than once a year, and nine times out of ten, they only flew at night. The further north you traveled, the more common dragon sightings were. In Ardhal, dragons were seen nearly every month, sometimes every week, but again, almost always at night.
Seeing a dragon during the day seemed like an omen of disaster. Every plodding step the oxen took, he expected the dragon to swoop down out of the clouds, or come surging up over a hill and fall upon the caravan, slaughtering everyone and everything.
How did people live up here, so close to the Northern Wastes? The alchemists relied on the dragons to perform their art, so they had to live close to where the dragons were, but the tiny gods only knew why normal people lived there too.
For his part, Travis had never been further north than Ardhal, and he had been perfectly happy with his life prior to this enforced trip to Andronath.
The road ahead took a hooked path around a mountain’s foothill. As Travis came around the bend, he got his first sight of Andronath. The city was built on a hill, too low to qualify as a mountain, but not by much. A great wall ran a full circle around the base of the hill, with buildings marching in terraced steps up the sides of the mountain.
Travis boggled at the sight. He knew, intellectually, that Andronath didn’t hide itself from the dragons, but seeing it with his own eyes was different from hearing about it second-hand from a merchant. They had red clay roofs! And he could see the glint of
window glass even from here!
Rising above the buildings were the cannon towers that gave Andronath its protection from the dragons. Those same towers had destroyed the Priah fleet that he was working so hard to rebuild. He noted with a sort of vicarious pride that at least two of the towers were still broken, their tops ending in rubble rather than the smooth domes of the cannon platforms.
With the city finally in sight, Travis felt himself relax. It was silly; if a dragon came down out of the mountains, there was no way he could reach the city in time. Even so, the sight of the tiled roofs of Andronath gave him a badly needed boost of morale.
The last mile to the south gate of the city seemed to take forever. He was close enough to the walls that he could almost convince himself that the oxen could possibly outrun a dragon. Then the walls were looming overhead. Then, at last, they were at the gate. Travis felt like cheering wildly. Another twenty paces and they would be safe.
A man in a robe of a sort of dusty brown color stepped out of the gate to meet him, holding up a hand for Travis to stop.
Seriously? A customs check outside the city?! It took an effort of will to keep himself from whipping the oxen into a trot and running the fellow over. He could apologize once he was safe. Only the belated realization that running down the customs official would doom his enterprise before it even started kept him from raising the whip.
“Good day,” the man said. He had a funny accent that Travis couldn’t place, and an infuriatingly calm manner. Didn’t he know there were dragons about?!
“Hello, my good man,” Travis said, forcing cheer into his voice. “If you don’t mind, I’ll take my caravan into the city and we can discuss the tariff there.”
“I do mind,” the man replied. “Andronath is closed to outsiders, or did not you hear?”
“Closed?” Burn it! There was no way he had come all this way for nothing. Maybe he could talk his way in. “But we’re hardly outsiders. This is a route we’ve taken year after year. Surely you have need of outside goods?”
