by Rachel Aaron
“Yes, yes, it’s great for them,” Julius agreed. “But what are we going to do? It’s a hard room in there, and I was counting on the Qilin’s support.” He nodded through the door into the hotel ballroom, which was packed to the gills with dragons. Delegations from every clan sat at tables that had been set up in a circle, and despite this supposedly being a peaceful summit, every one of them looked ready to kill. “We could use some good luck.”
“You’ll be fine,” Marci said, rising up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Who needs luck when you’ve got friends in high places?”
She looked pointedly across the hall at Amelia, who was deep in conversation with the spirit of the DFZ. The city was dressed in her best glowing neon for the occasion, her beady eyes shining a bright, cheerful orange from beneath the shadow of her deep hood. Myron looked less happy standing beside her, but what mortal could feel comfortable in the presence of so many dragons? Except Marci, of course. She was used to it, and like everything else about her, Julius loved her for it.
“You’re right,” he said, taking a deep breath. “We’ll be fine.”
“You’ll be fine,” Marci said pointedly, handing him his cane. “We’ve got to go take our seats now. Knock ’em dead!”
Julius took the cane with a smile as Marci adjusted her long formal dress—which looked suspiciously like a wizard’s robe—and hurried to follow Myron and the spirits into the meeting room, Ghost trotting along behind her like the cat he pretended to be. Julius was still watching her go when he felt a familiar murderous presence behind him.
“You’re bringing that in, are you?”
Bethesda’s voice was scathing, and Julius turned to find his mother decked in gold from head to toe, glaring down her nose at the cane he was using to keep himself upright. “Really, Julius! I know you’re only a week into being miraculously raised from the dead, but if you hobble in there like an invalid, you’re going to look weak.”
“Not as weak as I’d look falling on my face,” Julius pointed out. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but until my fire finishes healing, it’s what I’ve got.”
“You could at least try to stand up straight,” his mother scolded. “That way, the others might think it’s an accessory instead of a necessity.”
Julius didn’t think there was any chance of that. Dragons had a sixth sense for weakness, and even after everyone’s contributions, his fire was still little bigger than a hatchling’s. Cane or no cane, he’d be outed the second they smelled him.
“Where’s Ian?” he asked, changing the subject.
Bethesda’s perfect red lips curled in disgust. “Where he always is these days, with Svena.” She shook her lovely head. “Cementing alliances is well and good, but this is bordering on ridiculous. The ex-Daughters of the Three Sisters are up to their snouts in debt to our clan, and we’ve already gotten our clutch out of them. There’s nothing left for Ian to charm out of the White Witch, so I don’t know why he’s still playing consort. We’re on top! He should be gunning for new conquests, not wasting his time hanging around old ones.”
“I’m happy for them,” Julius said stubbornly. “They seem well matched.” Not that he understood a relationship that seemed to be based on who could use the other better, but Svena and Ian were both dragon’s dragons, and it seemed to work for them.
“Well, he’d better pull himself out of her icy clutches soon, because we’re starting in two minutes,” Bethesda said, checking her phone. She grimaced when she saw the time and shot Julius the closest thing she had to a nervous look. “The plan is still on, right? You haven’t killed it or something stupid like that?”
“Why would I kill it?” Julius asked. “It was my plan.”
“Yes, but I like it,” his mother pointed out. “And you always destroy the things I like, so…”
“It’s fine,” he assured her.
“What’s fine?” Justin asked, suddenly appearing at Julius’s side.
“Everything,” Julius said, smiling at his knight. As always, Justin was dressed like a modern knight in military-grade spellworked Kevlar with his Fang at his side. Conrad was wearing the same as he stepped into place beside Bethesda. The only one who didn’t have a knight was Ian, but he didn’t seem to mind when he finally appeared.
“About time,” Bethesda snapped, eying his skewed suit and uncharacteristically rumpled hair, which was standing up in the back as though someone tall had been running her fingers through it. “Did you make sure Svena is still on our side?”
“It didn’t come up,” Ian said, neatening himself up in the hall mirror. “But I trust my consort to do what is best for our clan.”
“Which one?” Bethesda growled. “This is the problem with letting you bat for two teams. I’m never sure where you stand.”
“I stand where I always have,” Ian said, tugging his silk tie straight. “With my own self-interest, and that’s very well served by Julius’s plan.” His brown eyes flicked to his brother. “Shall we go in?”
“Any time,” Julius said. “We’re just waiting on Amelia.”
Bethesda rolled her eyes. “No point in that. This is her first big meeting as the Spirit of Dragons. She’s not going to make a normal entrance through the door. Just go in. It never pays to make dragons wait.”
That was a good point, so Julius motioned for Justin to lead the way. Proud as an armored peacock, the knight shoved the doors open, letting the Heartstriker delegation into the elegant ballroom where the rest of dragonkind was already waiting.
After greeting nearly every dragon in the world as they’d come through Svena’s portal, Julius hadn’t been too worried about seeing them all again now. As they walked to Heartstriker’s table at the front, though, he realized he’d drastically underestimated the situation. It was one thing to face all the clan heads when the world was about to end, but it was quite another to stand in front of them now. Back then, they’d had no choice but to listen. Now, things were far less certain.
Thankfully, he was saved by Amelia. As Bethesda had predicted, the Spirit of Dragons had been waiting to make her entrance. The moment the Heartstriker delegation was in place behind their table, completing the circle of the clans, she appeared behind the podium at the circle’s apex with a swirl of fire. There was quite a lot of fire, actually. The normal dress she’d been wearing just a few minutes ago had been replaced with a gown of living flames, and a crown of fire in the shape of a dragon crouched on top of her head. Even her shoes were made of fire, scorching the elegant hotel carpet and all but ensuring they wouldn’t be getting the deposit back.
She stood there for a moment, looking haughtily around the room as she waited for shocked silence to become reverent awe. When she was satisfied everyone was suitably impressed, Amelia began.
“Welcome,” she said in a voice as sharp as fangs. “As you know, but I never get tired of saying, I am Amelia the Planeswalker, Spirit of Dragons and your benevolent god. These talks were not my idea, but I heartily approve of them and thus have agreed to bless you with the gift of my presence. Since I could swat any of you like flies, I will not take sides since that would be king making, and I’m not looking to be one of those micromanaging deities. I will not interfere with any decisions for the same reason. You’re all free to act in your own best interests, as dragons should. However, since these are peace talks, I will incinerate anyone who attempts to break the truce. Those are the rules. Don’t break them. Now that we’re all on the same page, I’ll pass the stand to my brother, Julius Heartstriker, who surprisingly didn’t arrange this meeting today but has somehow managed to end up leading it. Take it away, Julius!”
She threw out a fire-wreathed hand toward him, and Julius winced as every dragon in the room turned to stare.
“Thank you, Amelia,” he said awkwardly, hobbling to the podium as fast as he could. He paused when he got there, looking around the room as his sister stepped aside to give him space. What he saw wasn’t very reassuring. When he’d arrived this a
fternoon, he’d thought the ballroom his mother had booked in one of the nicest hotels on the just-restored riverfront was ridiculously huge for their purposes. Now, he was wishing she’d gotten a bigger one. Even in their elegantly dressed human forms, the circle of dragons filled the room. He couldn’t even see Marci, Myron, and their spirits standing in the back through all the calculating scowls and measuring glances, but he knew they were there, and that gave him the courage he needed to begin.
“Thank you all for coming,” he said, lifting his voice since no dragon would ever respect someone who needed a microphone. “The world has changed a great deal in the last three weeks. The human governments are in disarray from the influx of magic and the rise of Mortal Spirits. We have also changed, our fires bound to the magic of this plane by our own Spirit of Dragons. Thanks to her actions, we finally have a true home again, and now more than ever, we need to work together to cement our future here.”
He tightened his fingers on his cane. Here it went.
“For too long, we have acted like barbarians, fighting and brawling over land. That savagery has taken its toll. There are fewer dragons alive now than there have ever been, and that is our fault. No human hunter or vengeful spirit, even Algonquin, has hurt dragons more than we’ve hurt ourselves through our greed and shortsightedness. That is why, if we wish to live long enough to enjoy the new life expectancy my oldest sister’s work has bought us, we dragons have to change. We proved we could work together when we defended the Great Lakes from Algonquin’s Leviathan. Now, for our long-term survival, we have to do it again. If we don’t wish to repeat the mistakes of our ancestors who destroyed their old home plane, we must come together as a species, if not in peace, then in alliance. It is my hope that, through these talks and the ones that will surely follow, the dragon clans of this world can surpass all who came before us by finding a way to coexist nonviolently for our mutual benefit.”
He paused there, holding his breath, but to his amazement, most of the room was nodding. Some, like Fading Smoke, looked disgusted by the idea of stopping the killing, but the vast majority of the faces looking back at him were relieved. They were all tired, he realized. Tired of death, tired of dwindling numbers and fading power. That wasn’t enough to bury all the centuries-old grudges, but it was enough to start, and Julius decided to push ahead.
“With this in mind,” he went on, “as the first act of this all-clan meeting, I am taking the opportunity to formally claim the DFZ as my personal territory, effective immediately.”
The room exploded.
“What?” cried Fading Smoke, almost knocking over his table as he surged to his feet. “You think Heartstriker can claim the richest prize in the world without a fight?”
Other clans were yelling similar things, then yelling at each other as the whole ballroom fell into one giant argument over who most deserved Algonquin’s city. The noise of it was so loud, Julius couldn’t hear himself think, but he made no move to calm things down, because that wasn’t his place. It was hers.
“SILENCE!” the spirit of the DFZ roared, making the whole building shake.
Every dragon snapped their mouths shut, swiveling their heads back to the podium, where the spirit of the city had appeared beside Julius, her orange eyes shining like spotlights in her rage.
“I am not a corpse for you vultures to bicker over!” she snarled, baring her sharp teeth. “I am the DFZ, the living city! I can choose for myself which dragon is fit to manage your affairs within my borders, and I have chosen Julius Heartstriker. Of all of you, he is the only one who stood beside the Merlin to save me. He was the one who kept up hope when all other plans failed and the one who died so that the Lady of the Lakes could have a second chance and we could all survive. For these reasons and more, Julius Heartstriker is the only one of you I trust as the dragon of my city. I will accept no others.”
She set her jaw stubbornly after that, glaring at the dragons as if she was hoping they’d be stupid enough to fight her on this. And sure enough, someone did.
“It’s not your place to tell us whom to obey, spirit,” Fading Smoke growled. “Why should we listen to you?”
“You don’t have to,” Bethesda said sweetly. “Even if you were stupid enough to ignore the will of the sentient city you’re so eager to exploit, the DFZ belongs to Julius anyway. You were there same as the rest of us, Arkniss. You know perfectly well that my youngest son was the one giving the orders during the defense of the lakes, because you obeyed them. That fight and what he did after is the reason we’re still here to bicker about this, which means the lands those actions won are Julius’s by right of conquest. It’s the same logic you used to claim your territory in Gibraltar, so unless you’re willing to give your rock back to the dragons of North Africa, you have no ground to stand on.”
“Bethesda is right,” Svena said, her pale face shocked as though she couldn’t believe those words had just come out of her mouth. “We all fought hard that day, but Julius Heartstriker was the one who led. Even I followed where he pointed, but none of us followed him into the final confrontation that defeated the Leviathan. For that alone, I back his claim. This city and all the Great Lakes belong to him.”
“Why do you say to him?” Arkniss said, his dark eyes wary. “You mean they belong to Heartstriker.”
“I am a Heartstriker,” Julius said carefully. “But our clan lays claim to the whole of the Americas. Even we’re not big enough to centrally manage all that land, which is why our clan has a long tradition of letting each dragon claim and run their own territory as they see fit. By claiming the DFZ, I am bringing it into Heartstriker’s shared territory, but I—not Bethesda or anyone else elected to the Council in the years to come—will be the one who controls dragon affairs in the city.”
When the other dragons started grumbling, Julius raised a finger. “Before you complain, this does not mean the rest of you will be cut off. As the dragon of the DFZ, my plan is to keep the city exactly what it is right now: neutral territory. I want to make this city a place where dragons of all clans can come together and talk without fear of being betrayed. Every one of you is welcome to work and profit and run whatever enterprises you wish inside my city. My only requirement is that you do so peacefully, no killing, no fighting, no clan wars. Furthermore, I also intend to offer myself as a neutral third party to mediate clan disputes so that they may be settled without the usual bloodshed.”
“So that’s your ploy, is it?” Arkniss snorted. “Play the peacekeeper? Make us come to you?”
“It’s not a ploy,” Julius said stubbornly. “It’s a hope. We’ve lost so many powerful dragons to stupid clan drama, including my own grandfather, the Quetzalcoatl.” His mother made a choking sound, which Julius ignored. “My goal is to stop that from happening again. It shouldn’t be hard. We’re dragons, the cleverest, sneakiest, most conniving creatures to ever live in this world. If we can’t talk our way through a problem, then it can’t be solved. We just need somewhere safe to do it, and that’s what I mean to build.” He thumped his cane on the burned carpet. “From this moment on, I am Julius, Dragon of the DFZ. Anyone who wishes to challenge me for that title may do so now.”
He stopped, listening, but the room was silent. No one, not even Arkniss, said a word against him. Then, slowly, Lao, the Qilin’s cousin who was filling in for the absent emperor, raised his hand. “The Golden Empire supports Julius Heartstriker’s claim,” he said calmly. “In this support, we honor our debt. Any who oppose him oppose us.”
“Heartstriker supports him, of course,” Ian said, speaking quickly before Bethesda could open her mouth and remind the other dragons in the room how much they hated her. “We feel that a neutral DFZ is in the best interest of all parties, and we will bring our full might against any who threaten it.”
“We also support him,” Svena said. “The youngest Heartstriker has long been an ally of my clan, and I can think of no better use of his skills than what he has proposed for this city.” She flashe
d Julius a cold smile. “He is, after all, the dragon who tamed Heartstriker. I think we are all eager to see what other miracles he can perform.”
The other clans seemed to like that, and Julius let out his breath at last. “Thank you all for your support,” he said, trying not to sound as relieved as he felt. “And welcome to my territory. Now…” He smiled wide. “What can I help you with?”
***
“See that?” Bob said, passing his binoculars to the Black Reach, who was sitting beside him on the scaffolding surrounding the still-under-construction hotel directly across from the one the dragons were having their meeting in. “What did I tell you? He had it in the bag the whole time.”
“You are no longer in a position to tell me anything,” the construct replied sourly, though he did look through the binoculars. “You made a lucky guess.”
“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Bob said proudly. “That, old friend, was skill. I know all my assets, and Julius is the most reliable, especially for something like this.” He sighed happily. “They’ll be calling him ‘Julius the Peacemaker’ and flocking to him with their problems before the year is out, mark my words.”
“Of course they will,” the Black Reach said. “Because you’ll be sending them, and spreading that ridiculous epitaph.” He passed the binoculars back to Bob. “It’s not actually predicting the future if you’re setting everything up, you know.”
“I don’t care what you call it so long as it happens,” Bob replied. “And neither should you. My little brother is in there building the future you’ve always wanted. You should be falling over yourself to help me help him.”
“Who says I’m not?” the Black Reach said with a cryptic smile. “I’m here, aren’t I? Despite that thing on your shoulder.”
Bob went pale in horror, his hands shooting up to shield his pigeon roosting against his neck. “Don’t listen to him, darling,” he whispered. “He’s just jealous you’re with me.”
