Embers of Empire

by Michaela Strauther

  “Do you remember the time I snuck into your parents’ dinner party to steal the chocolate apples you had there? I snuck in through the back where your father kept all the cheeses—”

  “—and so it always attracted the mice—”

  “—so when I opened the door to see you I let out all the mice into the party and everyone had to leave because they were crawling under the tables and scaring everyone half to death!”

  “Like Yvette Mantau,” Julian wheezed.

  “Who?”

  “The lady from Onawa.”

  “Oh, yes! The rats ran up her dress!”

  “Yeah.” It was Julian’s voice. “And I took all the blame so your crazy mother wouldn’t kick you out.”

  “Thanks for that, Lynk.”

  Lynk?

  “No prob—”

  Something caught his voice.

  “—lem.”

  Sathryn heard Colette’s sudden laughter. “Looks like they found a way to entertain themselves.”

  Sathryn shifted her head, as if still in deep sleep, so that she could catch a quick glance at them both. Julian was staring down at her and Navier in slight confusion—and disappointment, if she was reading his face right. “No, you idiot, there is a book between them.”

  Julian leaned down just far enough to grab the book from between them, making Sathryn shut her eyes in fear he would notice her awareness. “Sises and Eruma. It’s the book I gave her.”

  “Why?”

  “Because her mother . . . and we needed something to do.”

  “What, you wanted to read it with her?” Her voice was mocking.

  “Whatever.” Sathryn felt him set the book back where it had been before. “At least she’s getting plenty of rest.”

  “Why’d she run out in the first place?”

  “Can you lower your voice, please?” he hissed. “You’re very loud, did you know that?”

  She laughed. “Yes. But you didn’t answer my question.”

  “I don’t know why she left. Maybe she wasn’t feeling well.”

  “‘Wasn’t feeling well.’ Right. She looked pretty fine to me.”

  “You can’t fault her. Her whole family is gone and she thought she was improving with the knives—well, until you came in and made her feel like she was helpless. Like she still sucked after practicing for years, not days.”

  “I’m very frank, you know that.”

  “Well”—Sathryn heard the old mattress on Julian’s bed crinkle, meaning he must have sat on it—“I’m going to bed. Wake Navier up and take him to your rooms. And try not to be so ‘frank’ tomorrow.”

  Sathryn hid her face as Colette approached the bed. “Wake up,” she said to Navier, shaking his body. He awoke looking quite stunned, but once he realized it was Colette, he laughed it off.

  “Good night, you two,” Julian called.

  “Good night!”

  “Good night, Lynk!”

  As soon as the door closed, Sathryn figured she would stop pretending. She rose and rubbed her eyes for effect. “Who’s Lynk?” She already knew the answer.

  Julian jolted. “Oh—um—it’s a nickname. A nickname for when I was younger, but Colette just doesn’t want to let go.” He laughed a little bit.

  “Oh.” She thought of calling him “Lynk” as a joke before realizing that his nickname had known him longer than she had, so she said nothing. “I’m going to bed.” She climbed under the blanket and set the book on the side table.

  “I see you’re reading it.” He gestured to the book.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you enjoying it?”

  She was, especially when she was reading it with Navier. Sometimes the book would mention things that “you wouldn’t know about unless you lived in Kingsland,” as Navier had told her. “Yes. Thank you for giving it to me.”

  He smiled a little bit. “You’re welcome.”

  She thought that Julian would ask her why she had left the training room so early, but he didn’t. He nestled down into his bed too, silently staring up at the new torchlight until his lids drifted shut.

  oday was the sixth day. Now that Sathryn already anticipated how perfect everyone else would be compared to her, blocking them out concentrated her efforts on getting better at knives rather than sulking over Colette’s skill.

  By the end of the long day of training, everyone had requests.

  “We need to have a feast,” Colette said.

  “No,” Julian countered. “You’re supposed to have the feast the last day before big events. This is the second-to-last day.”

  Colette, holding the bag she had brought with her when she first came, set her bag down and pulled from it a silk sack. It rattled with coins. “But on the last day we’ll be going over plans and training until we die and making sure no one is already dead.”

  Julian shrugged. “We can still have a feast on the last day.” He sounded very much decided.

  But Colette sounded equally as decided. She looked at Navier, who was smiling as usual.

  “It would be nice,” he said. “And tomorrow we can have what’s left over.”

  Colette just looked at Julian.

  “Fine!” He rolled his eyes. “Anything else?”

  “I’m in the mood for music,” Navier suggested.

  Even Julian couldn’t hold back his smile. “Harp.”

  “And a lute,” Navier said.

  “And a flute!” Colette called out.

  Julian laughed at her. “Since when could you play an instrument?”

  Colette shrugged. “Since I’ve been practicing.”

  Sathryn was confused. In Pomek, it was tradition to eat a big meal before or after big events: holidays, births, deaths, marriages. Sometimes, on special occasions, they even gave small gifts—a necklace or a weaving or a horse. But Julian, Navier, and Colette were all naming expensive items—did they want to buy them all?

  “Perfumes for luck!” Colette called out.

  “And sweets!” Navier said. “Lots of them. Chocolate covered . . .”

  “And a hatching show!” Colette said. That’s when Julian stopped her.

  “We can’t,” he said. “Those are too dangerous. Everyone knows everyone there, and they’re illegal.”

  In hatching shows and hatcheries, black-market dragon-egg hatchers would breed two dragons together to make crossbreeds. Sometimes they came out quite beautiful or interesting or odd, but occasionally, the crosses were uncontrollably aggressive, and the last thing any region needed was another round of reparations after another wild crossbreed burned down the area. Which was why they were illegal.

  Colette rolled her eyes and tapped her foot. “I don’t think you’re very much concerned with the law, Julian. I recall you going to some shows with me before. You weren’t much bothered by legalities then, nor are you now. Have you already forgotten why we’re here?”

  They were standing in the main room. Julian had ended training earlier to relax a bit, but instead of resting, they all wanted to wander the streets. Little did any of them know, Sathryn was still terrified of the streets, alone or otherwise. The image of the great black dragon overhead, the sky raining poison arrows, and Taz’s white face still gave her the occasional nightmare.

  “The last thing I want to do right now is get arrested,” Julian said.

  “No one ever gets arrested. There are even rumors of the kings going to hatcheries, and they’re the ones who made it illegal.” Julian still didn’t look convinced, so Colette rambled on. “Do you remember the last time we went? Do you remember when they hatched the cross between the Blue Fire and the Ravenor? The Blue Ravenor, they called it.”

  Julian laughed; his walls crumbled. “It had two heads.”

  Colette nodded. “And it was too expensive for us to take home. But now”—she held up her sack of money, perhaps more money than Sathryn could think of—“we have plenty. Why not take one with us?”

  Julian stood, contemplating, and then he nodded.


  “Delightful!” Colette exclaimed. “Then we all go down to the hatchery in the West District and watch a show, then split up and buy what we need.”

  Split up?

  Julian wasn’t bothered. “Groups of two. One group goes to get the feast food, the other buys our gifts.” Perhaps all the expensive perfumes and instruments and sweets were a Kingslander’s version of “small gifts.” “And we must be quick.”

  Colette groaned with impatience. “Let loose, Lynk. We can figure that out later.” She slipped a long knife into her belt, threw her coat over her shoulders, and slipped her bundle of money into her pocket. “I’m ready.”

  All four of them stood outside of Julian’s old house now, all with their coat collars high to hide their faces. Sathryn stuck herself in the middle of them all, between Julian on her right and Navier to her left. She tried to make it seem like she just happened to be there, but she was sure they all knew she was scared. Her movements were erratic and her breathing was quicker than usual. Though she’d been out around the region since her mother’s second capture—to go to the play with Julian—being out around the streets at night was different. The crowds of people were different; no longer were there families with young children and old relatives. And conceited, rich women and men throughout the day, though rude, were never mischievous or violent.

  But now, as they walked farther and farther toward what Colette had called the West District, the music and dancing of the main street at night faded into ambiguity, where everyone alongside the long, winding streets scrutinized her every step. And the sentries at every corner gave her no more reassurance, for they glowered at her from their respective posts just as everyone else did.

  Again, Julian looked calm, happy even. He looked as though he belonged here, because he did. His gait, like Navier’s and Colette’s, was direct and purposeful and fearless.

  The hatchery Colette had spoken of was deceivingly small on the outside—“Most of it is underground,” Julian said—giving it an abandoned ambience to its exterior. A small, wooden sign hung from the thick, iron door: The Peruvial Palace, it read. For a title so convincing, there was nothing to propose that the small, underwhelming shop had anything to do with dragons or eggs or hatching, or even to propose that the shop was open—no lights escaped from inside, the windows were covered, no one loitered about the edges of the building.

  “Are you sure anybody is here?” Sathryn asked.

  She thought it was a legitimate question, but at least for Colette and her loud giggle, it wasn’t a question that should have been asked at all. “They can’t be out in the open. They have to keep themselves as hidden as they can.”

  “Illegal,” Navier muttered. Colette shot him a mocking glance, then knocked a pattern of beats on the door.

  The door did not swing open. Instead, a slot in the iron door opened, revealing a pair of gray eyes and half of a strong nose. The man grunted. “You again?”

  Colette smiled. “Hello, Jela. Have you missed me?”

  The man rolled his eyes. “Missed you? This is a hatchery, not a comedy show.”

  Colette counted twenty gold pieces from her coat and pushed them through the slot in the door. “I don’t even come for the hatchlings anymore. I come just so I can see you. Password is ‘Onawa canoe.’”

  Jela shut the slot in the door, and Sathryn feared he would not let them in, but then, there was a click, and Colette pushed the door open.

  Jela ignored Colette once they were inside despite the smiles she kept throwing him. He led them to a set of winding stairs, then left them as they descended.

  “Seems like you have been here quite a few times since I last came,” Julian said. He and Colette were walking side by side.

  “Of course,” she answered. “All the time.”

  At the base of the stairs, opening up to a large room crowded with people, the sound that was quiet at the top of the stairs amplified. In the room, the wide benches were already filled by warm bodies. Finding a seat toward the middle of the rows of benches, Sathryn made sure she was lodged between Julian and Navier. Since they were underground, the smell of wet rock and sand soaked her senses and blended with the smell of bodies around her. Wet rock and perfume, she found, did not mix well together.

  “It’s quieter than I thought,” Sathryn said to Navier.

  “The crowds here are mellow,” he said. “At least until the bidding for the crossbreeds starts.”

  “Quiet!” Colette hissed. “They’re starting.”

  The woman up front, a tall, slender young woman with thick layers of clothing masking much of her dark skin, hauled a large trunk and a table onstage with the help of a young boy. “Welcome, everyone, to the Peruvial Palace!” She opened her arms wide, earning loud applause from the audience. “I am Lady Night, for those of you who do not know.”

  As she continued to speak, Julian turned to Sathryn. “Have you ever seen a show before?”

  She shook her head. “No. I have only ever heard stories.”

  “You’ll love it,” he said with a soft smile.

  Lady Night was still speaking. “—so I have only five eggs to crack tonight. But they are great crosses, so happy bidding!”

  She bent down, dress pooling about her feet, and cracked open the trunk. The first egg she pulled out was light turquoise and quite large. “This rare beauty is a cross between an Ohara and a Velda’s.” She placed it on the table. The little boy who had helped carry the trunk and table handed her a sharp knife before placing a wire cage on the table.

  “Is everyone ready?” she called out. The crowd shouted. Lady Night took the knife and cut a thin line around the egg, gently so as not to damage whatever lay inside. Then, she placed the egg within the cage and waited.

  Sathryn watched the egg crack open, revealing a small dragon the color of the egg. Was that it?

  But then, the woman pulled out another egg and the one inside the cage crawled from its egg and toddled around. Sathryn had never thought of dragons as being cute until then.

  The second egg Lady Night pulled out was bright red with black splotched around it. The crowd traded whispers about the room, for even the color of the egg foreshadowed its contents. “This one”—she began, holding it up for everyone to see—“is a cross between the fiercest dragon in the world and the rarest in the world: a Lucifer’s Phoenix, and a Blazing Hex.”

  She sliced the egg open once again as she did the first one. “The Lucifer’s Phoenix is rumored to be the dragon from which the Dragon Kings make their drug.”

  At this, Julian’s eyes got wide.

  “Remember that,” he whispered to Sathryn.

  “And since then, everyone has been trying to find something to cancel out that drug. Something that weakens their immortality so it’s easier to attack them.” She looked up at the crowd and grinned. “Or perhaps something that is toxic enough to kill them.”

  “How can she say that here?” Sathryn whispered to Julian. “In the region where the kings live. Won’t she get in trouble?”

  Julian, his eyes watching the egg crack open inside the cage, shook his head. “This hatchery is secretive. No one who doesn’t know the password can get in. Besides, anyone for the kings wouldn’t dare to do anything illegal, like attend a crossbreed-hatching show.”

  The crossbred dragon broke from its shell, a small, purple face peeking out above the ridged edge of the egg. “We have to get that dragon,” Julian muttered.

  Once spotting the little purple dragon, the toddling turquoise dragon wandered over to the purple and knocked its head gently against the other’s body, helping him from his shell. The purple dragon, in response, bumped his head against the turquoise. The crowd mumbled in discontent.

  “Looks like our Blazing Phoenix isn’t the brash, violent being we wanted him to be,” Lady Night said. She looked as disappointed as the crowd.

  Sathryn shot Julian a confused glance—or tried to. He and Colette were siphoning attention to each other—laughing, pointing at
the dragons, awwing at their cuteness. Instead, Sathryn looked at Navier. “Why don’t they like the purple one?”

  “Everyone is here to watch one dragon overtake the other. A fight. The most aggressive dragon is then bid throughout the crowd and sold to the one who can pay the highest.”

  “What would they want with an aggressive one? They don’t make good pets.”

  Navier laughed. “They train them and use them as weapons, guards, travel. It’s common for the rich to keep them if they like. They don’t do that back in Pomek?”

  She shook her head. Dragons in Pomek were strictly symbolic—used in shows or holidays.

  Lady Night silenced the dissatisfied crowd with a single long, dark, ring-adorned finger. “Quiet, everyone. We still have to bid these two and crack open three more.” Reaching into the cage, she held up the first dragon, the sleek, tiny turquoise one. Her voice was much less proud, less eager when she spoke. “Who will bid for this Velhara? He’d make an adorable pet. I’m starting the bid at twelve gold!”

  The man in front of Sathryn raised his hand.

  The bid for the small Velhara ended at twenty-two gold pieces. Lady Night collected the money, then set aside the Velhara for the young woman who had won it. All bidding prizes, as Lady Night said, would be given after the bid for everything was over.

  Then, Lady Night called out for the second, purple dragon, the Blazing Phoenix, which was at a base price of fifteen gold pieces. A plethora of hands shot into the air and waved like flags on a windy morning, including Julian’s hand beside Sathryn. The energy of the air shifted.

  Despite the Phoenix’s disappointing lack of aggression, the bids flew higher as the energy in the room shifted from dissatisfaction to intrigue. Once the bid reached that of two gold bricks, the river of hands dried to no more than a trickle. Julian’s hand was still straight in the air, never wavering, but he was now facing a rising bid against the woman who had bought the Velhara, an older bald woman with chains around her neck, and a few young men who looked like princes themselves.