by Devin Hanson
Jules laughed quietly as they made their way back to the main deck. "Mostly dead. Between the first attempt to kidnap me and the losses at the brooder cave, they're down to barely a skeleton crew."
"Minus the three that were on watch."
Jules gave a wry laugh. "Minus them."
"How many could be left?" Andrew asked.
From a distant part of the ship, a bell started ringing and voices took up a call of alarm.
Andrew cursed. "Jules, time to run. We need to get to the deck now. And when we get there… just follow my lead."
"What's on the deck?"
"If the alarm was sounded, Ava said she was going to hold the airship hostage for my safe return. It's plan B."
"Hostage? Andrew, how does someone hold an airship hostage?" By the time Jules was done asking the question, Andrew had pushed past her and was halfway up the next stairwell.
Andrew heaved open the hatch door as the airship shuddered and swayed alarmingly. Jules cried out and ducked down, eyes wide with fear.
"Jules, do you trust me?" Andrew asked, pausing in the hatch and looking back.
Jules nodded slowly.
"Good. Then come on up. But don't make any sudden movements. I don't know how she'll react." He reached down and offered his hand to her. After a moment's hesitation, she took it and allowed him to pull her up onto the deck.
Which had become crowded.
Avandakossi had landed on the quarterdeck, crushing the wheelhouse to splinters. Her long neck loomed the length of the main deck, and she swivelled her head to focus on Andrew.
"Avandir," she boomed, "did you locate the kossar?"
Andrew felt Jules shudder and press herself against his side. Andrew had never had the opportunity to offer a woman protection, and he wasn't sure how to proceed, but he figured putting an arm around her shoulders was safe. "I have," he called back. "Should be right under you."
Ava shifted her weight around, making the airship rock, until she could peer into the door below her. The door had shattered as the frame was crushed out of plumb, and Andrew could see inside where a ruddy glow lit the walls.
"Tiny gods," Jules whispered. "Is that Ava? That's the brooder! You're speaking with her!"
Ava roared when she caught sight of the glow inside. Her great talons tightened, ripping furrows through the airon plates.
Andrew gave Jules' shoulder a squeeze before striding forward. Ava's head curved down above him, ready to shield him should he need it. "Trent Priah!" Andrew shouted. "Your airship is under my control. Come out of the cabin slowly!"
The balding man came stumbling out of the cabin, followed by Trent. He had a dueling pistol pressed into the small of the older man's back.
"Andrew!" Jules called, "That's my father!"
Lord Vierra's face was ashen with fear, his steps unsteady without his cane. His breath came in short gasps and his eyes rolled between the dragon looming over him and the pistol stabbing him in the kidneys.
Trent might have been equally afraid, but he covered it with a display of anger. He swung the pistol up and leveled it at Andrew, only to have Ava's head sweep down and interpose. Ava's throat rumbled, and fire coiled out from around her teeth.
"Trent," Andrew called, "Drop the pistol."
Andrew heard it clatter to the ground then a scrape of metal on metal as it slid across the deck. Ava's head rose, but only far enough that Andrew could see Trent. Andrew had to give him credit. It was an impressive display of bravado, if incredibly stupid. Lord Vierra had fallen to one side and huddled on his knees, sobbing, hiding beneath his arms.
"Lord Priah. You have something of the dragon's that she wishes returned."
Trent's eyes narrowed and recognition flashed over his face. "You! I should have killed you when I had the chance."
Andrew rolled his eyes. The presence of Ava hovering over him gave him a degree of confidence that he had never felt before. "I'm sure. Listen. This isn't really a negotiation. We're here for the egg and Jules." He looked thoughtfully at Duke Vierra. Jules had wanted him to know the man was her father. Andrew disliked the man intensely, but it wasn't his call to make. "Give it over, and we'll be on our way."
"What does he say?" Ava asked, her voice a deep rumble.
Andrew looked up at her in surprise. "You can't understand what he's saying?"
"He is not Kossirith," she said.
Trent glared at him. "What are you saying to that beast?"
Andrew ignored Trent. "He blusters," he explained to Ava. To Trent, he said, "The egg. Now."
"It's mine!" Trent screamed at him in sudden rage, the veins in his forehead standing proud. "I found it. You have no right to take it from me by force! I am a lord of the realm!"
"You are Ranno Kossar," Andrew replied, his voice iron. Without thinking, he used Ava's term for egg stealer. Behind him, he heard Jules' intake of breath. "Your life is forfeit if you do not return it at once."
The rage drained away from Trent's face and the fear returned, but it wasn't fear of the dragon looming over him. At least, it wasn't just that. Trent's gaze was fixed on Jules, who had stepped up behind Andrew.
"Do it, Trent," Jules ordered. "You heard the Dragonspeaker." Her voice turned formal. "You are Ranno Kossar, forbidden the Fellowship," she intoned, "I strip you of your titles and ranks. I cast you forth. Your right to the lore of alchemy is revoked. Should you practice it, your tongue will be cut forth and your fingers removed."
"You have no right," Trent croaked. He cleared his throat. "You can't pass judgement on me. You're not on the Council!"
"I didn't pass anything," she shot back. "You know the law as well as I do. The Dragonspeaker passed judgement."
Trent turned his gaze on Andrew and his face twisted with hatred. "This… this… gunny. He is no Speaker, dragon or otherwise. I don't care if he's somehow trained this beast to do his will. There are no Dragonspeakers, haven't been for two thousand years. That law is dust. It has no meaning!"
Jules stepped forward, mouth open to retort, and Andrew stopped her with a lifted hand. "What I am has no relevance right now. What matters is that you return the egg."
"Dragonspeaker or not," Jules said, "if you don't, the dragon will eat you."
Trent's face fell as the simple logic defeated the last of his bravado and he accepted the loss. Andrew felt a wave of relief wash over him and absently he reached up and scratched Ava under one massive jaw. It was the right place to scratch the dragon, he knew, somehow. "He's getting the kossar, Ava. It's over. We did it."
Chapter 21
Escape from Andronath
Andrew walked through Andronath's north gate as the sun settled down to the horizon. It had been two weeks since he had recovered Avandakossi's egg from Trent, time he had spent with Ava moving her nest far into the mountains where even the swift Storm Shadow wouldn't dare seek her out. He had carved the dragon four more kossarigan, enough to keep her eggs warm for the duration of their incubation even if one or two failed.
Jules had asked to be dropped off at Andronath despite Andrew's misgivings. She had argued that she had to be there to present their side of the story, or else Trent would have weeks to lie about what had transpired. It was a good plan, and Jules assured him that she wouldn't give Trent a chance to kidnap her again. While the nobles of Salia might overlook such methods of coercion, Andronath was a city-state on its own, and that kind of black-mask work wouldn't be tolerated.
He felt lonely, even walking into the bustling city. Two weeks spent with Ava had given him a drastically different perspective on how the world worked. There wasn't a man or woman he could see that he felt he could relate to. What would they say if they knew he could speak to dragons? What would their reaction have been if Ava had landed within sight of the city walls to drop him off?
The thought made him smile. It might even have been worth it.
A hand waving caught his attention and he saw Jules, standing on a barrel to see over the heads in the crowded street. A wagon
carrying a load of exhausted gunnies rumbled between them and Andrew watched them go by with a feeling of lost fellowship. He knew some of the people in that wagon, but none of them recognized him, or even looked up to see him.
Jules reached his side and turned to watch the wagon disappear into the city. "They're a sorry lot," she said quietly, without her old arrogance. She sounded like she felt for them. "You miss me?"
Andrew smiled. "I miss regular bathing. And yes. Of course I missed you."
"Milkin is dying to talk to you. And I have a lot of news. Good and bad," her eyes darkened and anger knit her brow. Then she smiled and the moment passed. "But that can wait until you've cleaned up and eaten."
They climbed the winding city street to where Professor Milkin lived, talking of inconsequential things, and Andrew slowly lost the feeling of not belonging. He'd lived on these streets for over two years and the familiarity gradually pulled him back to humanity.
Milkin was waiting outside on his porch, leaning on his walking stick and Andrew jogged the last stretch to embrace the old man.
"Well, my boy," the professor smiled, holding him back at arm's length. "You smell of dragon! Adventure looks good on you. No longer the underfed gunny, eh? Come inside! Come, come. I've a bath waiting for you and a meal in the pot."
Jules winked at him and waved him forward. "I warned him you'd be arriving today."
Andrew's stomach rumbled as the smell of baking bread hit him, but he followed Milkin to the side room where he had stayed after finding the scale. He accepted the bucket of steaming water and went to look at himself in the mirror. His beard had grown in during the last few weeks, and he decided he liked the look of it. He set about cleaning himself, scrubbing his skin until it turned pink and combing the knots out of his hair. It was starting to get shaggy again, but his stomach demanded he wait until later before cutting it.
Ava had hunted for him while he helped her move her nest. Hard work and all the venison he could eat had filled him out to the point where he almost didn't recognize himself. He probably weighed fifty percent more than he had when he had met Jules for the first time.
Clean, he dressed in his spare set of clothes. They had been washed in a stream without soap, but they were better than the dirt-crusted traveling clothes he had been wearing.
Jules pounded on the door, "Come out of there, we're starving here!"
"Coming, coming," Andrew's stomach grumbled. He gave his hair one last swipe and joined Milkin and Jules at the table.
Milkin had outdone himself. On second look, there was no way he could have cooked the enormous spread in his tiny kitchen and Jules' smug smile confirmed that she had it brought in. None of which mattered to Andrew in the least. After his admittedly poor cooking on the mountain, eating a professionally prepared meal with more than one or two ingredients was like ambrosia.
By the time Andrew started slowing down, Jules and Milkin had long since eaten their fill and were watching him pack away food with amused impatience.
"Okay, I can't wait any more," Jules announced. "You finish eating, I'll catch you up on current events. Most important to you I suppose, is that the Guild is recognizing you as an alchemist, provisional until you prove you can speak to dragons. That's the good news. The bad news is that Trent and his cronies have been campaigning against you and will likely toss out anything short of a miracle as insufficient proof. So, mixed bag there. On the one hand, you can practice alchemy without worry of repercussion. On the other hand, you'll not get the chance to prove yourself any time soon."
"Not everyone is so dismissive," Professor Milkin added. "There are some of us who take Jules' word for it, though any demonstration we'd gladly welcome."
Andrew smiled. He hadn't missed the old professor's use of reflexive pronouns. "So that's it?" Andrew asked. "He gets to just walk away from it all?"
"Until you prove you can speak to dragons, yes." Milkin nodded. "Such is the way those with power escape their responsibilities. I've been dying to ask you how you knew to call him out?"
"Eh?" Andrew asked, his mouth full.
"What he means," Jules cut in, "is how did you know to call him Ranno Kossar without learning the laws of the Guild? It's the worst punishment we have, to brand someone Ranno Kossar. They are expelled from the Guild without remit and banned from practicing alchemy on pain of death or permanent mutilation."
Andrew shrugged, "It's what Ava called him."
Milkin leaned forward, "Did she say what it means?"
"You don't know?" Andrew asked, amused.
"It's in the dragon tongue," Jules responded, "we know that much, but the exact meaning was never given."
"Oh. Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to tell you. It means 'egg stealer', or close enough."
Milkin and Jules exchanged glances. "That's it?" Jules demanded, "'Egg stealer'?"
"You wouldn't think it was a minor accusation if you only bore young once every thousand years, if you were lucky," Andrew retorted.
"Every… thousand?!" Jules sat back in her chair, eyes unfocused as she worked through the ramifications.
"Ava hadn't laid a clutch for two thousand years. I got the impression there might have been other opportunities, but various factors prevented it from happening."
"Well!" Milkin sat back and grinned at Andrew. "I imagine all sorts of misconceptions about the dragons will be turned on their heads in the coming years. If you ask me, the punishment for Ranno Kossar is entirely fitting."
Jules nodded, her face grim.
"So," Andrew said, bringing them back on topic, "if I prove that I can speak to Ava then Trent will be branded, like with a hot iron? And the Guild will recognize him as Ranno Kossar?"
"Figuratively, given his station," Jules said, "but yes. He will be forbidden to practice alchemy. Some more bad news on a different topic; while we were tracking down Ava, the Crown Prince of Salia and his wife were killed in an airship accident. Or maybe 'accident'. The kingdom is in uproar. Andronath is far enough removed that it is still relatively calm, but there is a lot of mobilization going on. If the king doesn't declare a successor soon, we're going to see skirmishes being fought and civil war in Salia."
Andrew remembered the king as he spoke at the airship crew graduation ceremony. He was a good ruler, Andrew supposed. He didn't really have any basis for comparison, but at least he had tried to make the lives of his people easier. More than could be said for nobles like Trent who were only concerned with their own power. "What does that make you now? Sixth in line?"
"Fifth," the professor corrected him.
"More bad news," Jules continued, ignoring the interruption, "somewhat more personal for me. My father suffered a mental breakdown on the Storm Shadow and still hasn't recovered. Trent is claiming a Maar airship was responsible for the assault on the Storm Shadow and for the mental state of my father. We don't know why yet. Probably because if he admits that Ava acted on your direction, he'd be admitting you can speak with dragons, which would be the same as barring himself from the Guild."
"He's trying to foment war," Milkin grumbled, "I told you this. He wants Salia to go to war with Nas Shahr."
Jules scowled. "But why would he do that? It just doesn't make sense. He doesn't gain anything by bringing us to war."
"Does he not?" Milkin reprimanded her gently, "Wars cost money. The Priah family is rich beyond even what your father used to have, by several orders of magnitude. What do you think the king would offer him if the Priah coffers funded this war?"
Jules bent her head and cursed. "Anything he wanted."
"And what does he want? He wants you, my dear. Or at least your position. With you father incapacitated, King Delran might just order the marriage. You could not ignore that order, Jules."
"I'd exile myself before marrying him," Jules said angrily, her green eyes flashing.
"Then hope the king does not declare war," Milkin said quietly. "If he does, you will have to move quickly. Best be prepared."
Jules frown
ed, but nodded. "I have plans in place. Ever since I got back to Andronath."
"Good. I believe that catches us up on current events. But enough about these gloomy topics!" Milkin announced. "Andrew, my lad, I believe you have a story to tell!"
Andrew laughed and popped a last bit of baked chicken into his mouth. "Alright. I suppose I had better start from the very beginning, otherwise you won't understand. When I was fifteen years old, my parents purchased a commission in Salia's first dragon-fighting fleet…"
Andrew slipped out of the front door of Milkin's little house when the sky was just lightening to grey. Jules looked up in surprise from where she was kneeling over her pack, tightening the last few straps.
"I've started getting up early," Andrew said in way of explanation. "It's really hard to sleep through a dragon getting up with the dawn."
Jules stood up and swung her pack onto her back with an easy, practiced motion. "I can't stay here, Andrew. It won't be safe if I do. Not for me, not for you, not for Milkin."
"I know." Andrew tightened the straps on his own pack, getting the weight to sit more on his hips.
"It won't be safe where I'm going either."
"Safe hasn't really been part of my life for the last several years," Andrew said dryly. "I kind of doubt it will start now."
Jules quirked a corner of her mouth up into a lopsided smile. "No. Not likely."
They walked side by side down the road away from Milkin's house. Andrew turned to look back at it as they rounded the bend, and had a feeling he wouldn't be seeing it or the professor for a long time.
"So," he said after jogging to catch up with Jules, "traveling with a gunny is kind of a drag. How about traveling with one of the Kossirith?"
"I could think of worse companions," Jules allowed, the hint of a laugh coming through in her voice. "You need to tell Avandakossi you're going?"
"I have a feeling she knows where I am." He looked to the north where he could feel an itch, a need to travel in that direction. "If I need her, she will come."
