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And then she was diving, diving alone on the tallest tower of the keep, ignoring the angry trumpeting from IceFyre that she was ignoring their plans. Reyn could do nothing but hold tight to her harness and bellow his terror as she arrowed straight for the side of the tower.

‘She comes like a blue star falling through the heavens. She is the Empress of Destruction, the Queen of Vengeance, and if I must die, let her deliver my death to me!’

‘That is her? She is like the fire inside a blue opal!’ Chassim stared, her eyes wide in terror and delight. Her body was behind his, holding him pressed against the stone balustrade so he could stand, watching the blue miracle streaking toward them.

Selden lifted his voice and found that not all music had fled from him.

‘She is both wise and terrible. Cleverness beyond cleverness is hers, swift-winged, sharp-taloned, and keen of sight. Tintaglia!’ His voice broke on the last word.

Tintaglia tipped back, giving them a view of her sparkling belly and the glittering claws on her feet.

Chassim held him tightly but her entire body was quivering. ‘Like glittering blue steel is she! Bring my death then, lovely one. We await you.’

But it was not her jaws that came at them, but her clasping front talons. Chassim staggered back from the brink as Tintaglia seized the stone balustrade of the balcony and clung, the wind of her battering wings a hurricane around them. The talons of her front feet scored and slipped on the balustrade; her hind feet were braced on the tower below. Cracks raced through the stone railing.

‘Climb up, climb up now, now, NOW!’ The man on her back was roaring the words, and then, ‘Climb now, now!’ commanded the dragon, the words echoing through Selden’s bones.

He tried hard to do as she commanded, but the weakness of his body betrayed him. He felt Chassim grip the back of his robe and push him forward. He caught at the strap on the dragon’s chest. The man on the dragon clambered down the harness, clamped a grip on his bandaged wrist and dragged him up. He screamed in pain and scrabbled feebly with his feet, then his hands found leather and iron rings to grip. Chunks of the balcony were falling away as the dragon tore them free in her desperate bid to cling to the side of the tower. The rider dragged him up and held him before him on the dragon’s back. Selden sagged forward, and then gripped tight as the dragon pushed off from the tower face. She swooped away from the structure as he screamed, ‘Chassim! No, go back, Tintaglia, fair queen! Chassim!’

‘I … am … here!’ Her voice was weak with terror.

He looked down. Chassim clung grimly to the rings of Tintaglia’s harness, her garments whipping in the wind as the dragon fell suddenly away from the tower. He more saw than heard her wild scream as they plummeted together.

Then, with a sickening lurch, the fall became a glide. With a beat, beat, beat of Tintaglia’s powerful wings, they slowly began to rise. Chassim, her teeth bared in a determined snarl, her hair a wild stream of glory around her face, climbed doggedly, ring by ring, until Selden’s reaching hand closed over her wrist. Wisely, she did not trust his grip, but he could not let her go. Ring by ring, she came closer and then was hugging him as tightly as the man who held onto him. He twisted to see the rider and found himself looking upon an Elderling such as Selden had seen only in old tapestries.

‘Sir, I thank you,’ he gasped. ‘Oh, Tintaglia, blue queen of the skies, most powerful and wisest of all dragons, I give you thanks.’

‘Little brother, I am always doomed to find you in the damnedest places,’ the rider said, and abruptly Selden knew that it was Reyn who clasped him so securely. ‘You look but two heartbeats this side of death,’ Reyn added.

‘If only you knew,’ Selden replied. He was suddenly dizzy and faint with relief. ‘What do you here? Whence come all these dragons?’

‘Don’t you know them?’ asked Reyn. Tintaglia was ignoring her riders, carrying them higher and higher above the city, away from the death and destruction below them. ‘You saw them encased, you saw them hatched! We come from Kelsingra, Selden, and we come to kill the Duke of Chalced for daring to hunt dragons for their blood.’

Selden felt Tintaglia’s assent to Reyn’s words course through him, strong with her anger.

‘But what of you?’ continued Reyn. ‘You sent us no word! Your sister thinks you dead and your mother fears she is right. What happened to you? I do not think you were in that tower willingly, by the look of you. And who is this you have brought with you?’

Selden drew breath but before he could reply, Chassim spoke for herself. ‘My name is Chassim. And if this glorious queen and her dragons are able to fulfil their mission today, by nightfall I shall be the rightful Duchess of Chalced. And in your debt.’

...

Day the 10th of the Greening Moon

Year the 7th of the Independent Alliance of Traders


From Selden Vestrit, Singer to Tintaglia, Kelsingra

To Keffria and Ronica Vestrit of the Bingtown Traders, Bingtown


Dear Mother and Grandmother,

I write this tiny scroll to be carried by Tarman to Trehaug and from there dispatched by Dunwarrow to Bingtown. A much lengthier account of my misadventures will follow, in a scroll far too heavy for any pigeon to bear. I will ask Alise to pass it to Althea to bring home to you.

For now, the essentials. I was betrayed by my companions. I was held captive, and eventually treated as a slave in Chalced. But I am alive, and once more in the incomparable company of the magnificent queen Tintaglia, to whom I owe my life and the restoration of my health. I do not wish to go into great detail about the trials I have endured, especially not on this tiny slip of paper. I will say only this now: I assure you, I am recovering and among good people.

You will doubtless hear many strange rumours about my role in the fall of Chalced and my friendship with Duchess Chassim. I will say only that the truth is undoubtedly stranger than any gossip you may hear, and the truth is what you shall have from me when the scroll arrives.

Mother, you ask me when I will come home to stay. Please do not take these words amiss. I am home. In Kelsingra, among the other Elderlings and near the dragons, I feel more at peace and more safe than I have felt in many months. My sister Malta is here, and Reyn, like a brother to me for so many years, and so many other Elderlings! The beauty of the country here is healing by itself, and I have access to thousands of records of Elderling dragon-poets who have gone before me. I am almost shamed to think I considered myself a singer, now that I have heard for myself the poets of old! And there are traditional songs that I must learn, songs for welcoming dragons, for celebrating the first flight of a hatchling, songs to thank dragons for sharing their presence with us. I think it will take me a score of years before I shall again claim I am a competent singer!

This does not mean I do not wish to see you. When my health permits, I will come for a visit. And I hope that in time you and Grandmother will be willing to undertake the journey to see me here. I would show you my city and introduce you to the keepers and the other dragons. Especially Tintaglia’s mate, Kalo. Such a handsome fellow, and so strong! I am as pleased to see her with him as I am sure you were delighted to see Malta settle with Reyn.

For now I must let this missive be enough, for I am already weary with writing this. Please be patient. A more detailed account will soon be in your hands.


As ever,

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Summer

It had begun rather formally as afternoon tea in the captain’s stateroom on the Paragon. But by the end of the first hour, it had become mugs of coffee on the foredeck of the liveship, with the figurehead fully involved in the conversation. Tarman was moored alongside Paragon at the docks of Trehaug. Alise wondered if the two ships communicated on a level that excluded humans but decided it would be rude to ask. It seemed decades since she had last been aboard Paragon. She looked back at her memory of the journey to the Rain Wilds and recalled her awkward conversation with the ship and with Althea and Brashen Trell. She laughed to herself, but no one remarked on it, for Paragon was in the middle of a lively tirade against the indignity of transporting chickens and sheep.

‘And I wish Tarman well with the nasty creatures. Worse than seagulls for squawking and mess on the decks.’

‘Perhaps so, but our boy is going to miss them,’ Brashen observed.

‘I think he’ll miss the fresh eggs more than he’ll miss the messes he’s had to clean up,’ Althea countered, laughing. She stood up and leaned to see past the deckhouse. ‘He and Clef have just about finished transferring the stock to Tarman’s deck. So we have perhaps ten more minutes of adult conversation before you are inundated with questions about the dragons and the One Day War.’

‘We’ll be happy to answer them as best as we can. Not that we were there for any of it. And if we are to believe what every dragon told us of it, then each one was personally responsible for the fall of the city and the death of the Duke.’

‘And the rise of a duchess,’ Althea added. ‘We’ve had bird messages from Selden, but they are not very satisfactory. We have only the bones of his tale, and each time he writes we learn a bit more, but he also tells us that still he cannot come home just yet. That there are still things he must “settle” there in Kelsingra.’ Her emphasis on the word ‘settle’ made it clear that she thought there was more going on than her nephew had confided. She looked from Alise to Leftrin, perhaps seeking confirmation or gossip.

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