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Truly, all is well, and will soon, we hope, be even better as a cloud of doubt that has hung over the Bird Keepers’ Guild is dispelled.

Have faith in us.


CHAPTER NINETEEN
IceFyre

Thymara peered at the black dragon, trying to discern what was wrong with him. She took a half-step forward, and Tats seized her upper arm and drew her back. ‘He’s mad with pain.’ Tats said apologetically, ‘He isn’t one of ours, Thym. He might do anything.’

The battered black dragon threw back his head and roared again. The insides of his mouth and throat were bright green with red streaks. When he dropped his head, a red froth dripped from his mouth to sizzle on the paving stones. He stared around at all the gathered folk, his eyes swirling madly. Thymara could not tell if the sounds he was making indicated pain or whether he was threatening anyone who came near. He had not uttered a word that she understood. His half-folded wings were ragged and rent. Some of the tears looked old, but there were recent ones as well. He looked both healthy and yet battered. He lifted his head and roared again. Then he curled his head in and down and swung it from side to side.

‘Can’t we help him?’ Thymara spoke the words but didn’t step forward again. When the dragons sounded the alarm, their keepers had come running from all directions. Thymara had thought Mercor and the other drakes would drive the black intruder away, but they had let him land.

‘IceFyre.’ Sintara had confirmed for her when she had reached toward her queen. ‘Stay clear of him. I think he’s mad.’

All the keepers had gathered to stare at the oldest dragon in the world but they had halted at a sensible distance. Mercor, Sestican and Sintara were on the ground. Even they had not approached within striking distance of the black. The others circled overhead in a whirlwind of colours and wings. The keepers exchanged looks but no one approached him.

And into the midst of the chaos came Heeby and Rapskal, dropping through the circling dragons like a dumpling falling into soup. The red dragon landed ungracefully and her rider slid from her shoulder.

Tats gave a distressed groan.

‘What is he thinking?’ Thymara demanded of no one. Since their night in the well, she’d kept Rapskal at arm’s length. There had been moments, during a meal or a shared task, when he’d seemed to be his old self, and her heart had yearned for them to be friends as they’d once been. But then there were the moments when he seemed completely foreign to her, calling for death by dragon for the prisoners. Or, as now, dropping down into their midst in extravagant and fanciful dress. Rapskal had put a heavy shaft to one of the spear-heads he’d found in the old armoury and he brandished it aloft as he walked in a slow circle around the black dragon. The scale armour he wore over his Elderling tunic and trousers shifted as he walked, and it seemed to Thymara that he deliberately rocked his hips to encourage the movement. It was effective. The sunlight caught and bounced off it, making him gleam black and gold. Heeby wore a matching harness. A water-skin hung from it, and something that was perhaps a horn. Thymara could not identify the rest of the items that dangled from it. The red dragon jingled as she pranced to follow Rapskal, well pleased with herself.

He circled the growling and groaning dragon once before stopping directly in front of it.

‘Now what?’ Tats growled.

‘Rapskal, no!’ Thymara cried, but he did not react to that name and she would not call him Tellator.

Rapskal walked fearlessly up to the roaring black dragon, dropped to one knee before him and bowed his head. At the sight of him, the dragon’s groans suddenly stilled. Rapskal lifted his head and his voice rang out clearly. ‘Kelsingra welcomes you, Glorious One! How may we serve you?’ He swept a wide arm to indicate the outer circle of keepers and ship’s crew. ‘I am Rapskal, Elderling to Heeby, the wondrous scarlet queen. I and all my fellow Elderlings would be honoured to guide you to the Silver well and watch you drink. The baths await you, and attendants who would swoon with joy to groom every one of your glorious scales! As the dragons of Kelsingra have permitted you to come here, the Elderlings of Kelsingra stand ready to serve you. Tell us your need, O eldest of dragons, and we will rush to meet it.’

Silence flowed in to follow his words. The black dragon regarded him intently. Rapskal continued his obeisance, his face lifted fearlessly. At last the creature spoke. ‘IceFyre am I called by humans. At least one here recalls the old courtesies of your kind!’ His gaze swept over them all, dragons and humans. ‘By treachery, I am poisoned. Humans have done this to me, luring me with fat cattle filled with death. If you have Silver, then lead me there. But I did not come here seeking Elderling praises or even Silver, though I welcome both. I came to see if any dragons still live who are worthy of that name, if any would rise to avenge me against the ones who seek to kill dragons for their flesh.’

Rapskal stood and lifted his spear high. ‘If no other rises to serve in that glorious cause, I will go. Fearless Heeby and I will take to the skies and slay any who have dared to lift a hand against dragons.’

Mercor spoke. ‘I will lead you to the Silver and you may drink your fill. Then we dragons will speak of vengeance, when you are rested and all are gathered.’ The golden drake’s gaze swept over the gathered Elderlings and came to rest on Rapskal. ‘Do not speak for dragons, Rapskal. Not even Heeby.’ His tone was severe. ‘Dragons alone can judge the gravity of the offence, and dragons alone will determine if it is an uprising against dragonkind, or foolish herdsmen seeking to claim grazing beasts as theirs alone.’

Instead of calming the black dragon, Mercor’s words seemed to focus his anger. He lifted his head high, eyes whirling as he stared at the golden dragon. ‘Humans knew where I hunted, and deliberately put out poisoned cattle. When I ate, I slept, and awoke sickened and weak. Then they came out with nets to snare me, and spears to let my blood flow and basins to catch it. They did not seek to kill me because I had eaten cattle. They put out cattle in the hopes that a dragon might become prey for them! But I was not as weakened as they thought. Many I killed! And many more will I kill!’

‘Only if you live,’ Mercor pointed out calmly. ‘First, we must give you strength against the poison. This way to the Silver.’

Mercor wheeled and walked away. IceFyre let his gaze wander balefully over the gathered humans, Elderlings and dragons. Then he turned to follow Mercor. The other dragons fell in behind them, and the keepers parted to let the procession through. Heeby looked at Rapskal and then trailed after the others. Rapskal remained standing where he was. He looked mildly stunned.

The vortex of circling dragons shifted, and Thymara suspected they would land near the Silver reservoir and hold their council there. The keepers were left standing, looking at one another uneasily. Into the silence and stillness, Tintaglia descended. The blue queen had recovered most of her strength, but still lacked flesh. As she landed, Malta hurried to meet her. Like her dragon, the Elderling Queen was still recovering, but Thymara had to smile at her impeccable grooming. She wore not a tunic and trousers as most of the keepers did but a flowing gown with draped sleeves. Her face was still thin, but her hair had been dressed in meticulous curls heaped high on her head and framing her scarlet crest. Her face shone with welcome for the dragon who had saved her child.

Tintaglia accepted the welcome as her due. She looked after IceFyre’s vanishing procession. ‘He made no cry for vengeance when I was the one who was dying,’ she observed sourly to her Elderling. ‘Yet let them succeed in giving him a bellyache, and he will melt all their cities with venom.’ She snorted in disgust, and added, ‘Vain as he is, he is right. And so I will tell the rest of them. The time has come. The city of Chalced must be destroyed.’ She looked at her Elderling and added, ‘You should stay here. Dragons alone will decide what we will do next.’ Malta halted, startled, and Tintaglia strode away from her.

‘We have to take action!’ Rapskal was undeterred in his effort to rally them. ‘We must begin to ready ourselves to ride to war now!’

Thymara sighed, and Tats took her hand. Harrikin lifted his voice. ‘We know nothing of war. Is this our vengeance to take?’

Rapskal shook his head as he turned to confront him. ‘It’s as I told you! It’s not revenge. It’s self-preservation. They’ve given us no choice!’

‘I’m afraid he’s right.’ Thymara was shocked to hear calm, sensible Alise taking that stand. The Bingtown woman’s face was grave rather than fired with enthusiasm for war as she added, ‘You heard what he said. This wasn’t about a dragon preying on herds and cattle owners becoming angry. This is humans hunting dragons for meat, scales and blood. We have all heard Malta’s tale. We have seen Tintaglia’s suffering. The Chalcedeans we hold have admitted it is why they came, and now that they have failed, others will be sent. It cannot be ignored any longer.’ She was not speaking in a loud voice, but her words were clear and the keepers had begun to gather in a circle around her. Thymara thought that Leftrin looked as surprised as she herself felt, but he did not interrupt or contradict Alise. ‘I cannot speak for the dragons and what they will do, but at the least, humans should speak out against what the Chalcedeans are doing.’

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