AuRon couldn’t identify the creature, with a reach like a vulture’s wing and smaller back legs, a paunchy body, and a neckless head like an overturned bucket. As it moved it looked at him, two red eyes glowed briefly from the foliage. Then it jumped, breaking through twigs with a crackling sound, and flapped off on leathery wings.
Cautiously, he climbed the tree it had rested on and extended his head to its perch. Claw marks. He tested the air with his tongue, a sharp smell like the worst mammalian urine, that of a cat, perhaps, lingered in the air about its perch.
He suppressed a shudder. Whatever it was, it was the eeriest-looking creature he’d ever seen. He’d have to ask Naf; he’d spent more time in this part of the world.
But the road ran up toward clean sky. Wanting clean air and quiet to think, he followed it.
AuRon smelled blighter on the wind, and investigated, following the scents. He left the road and wandered downhill, crossed a stream and lost the scent, and only picked up on a new ridgeline where the wind had free play. Now he could hear the sound of hammer on metal.
He sensed a dragon above. Imfamnia passed overhead, and loosed a friendly call. She executed a queer landing, dropping her wings, rolling over, and crashing into the branches. Startled birds and mammals fled the collapsing canopy.
She rolled over to land on her feet as she dropped beside them.
“Out for a moonlit stroll?”
“I’ve seen blighter children jump into a pile of leaves or cornstalks much the same way,” AuRon said.
“There wasn’t a clearing nearby,” she said. “I wanted to warn you away from this gully. It leads to the camp of some of our forces. The Protector’s bodyguard, to be exact. It would be tragic if there were a misunderstanding.”
“I smell blighters.”
“You’re aware of the principle of always using foreign soldiery as your bodyguards? They’re less likely to betray you.”
AuRon had, but wasn’t used to hearing Imfamnia speak of matters other than scale care or grooming.
“You spend a lot of time worrying about being betrayed?” he asked.
“When you grow up in the Lavadome, it becomes a habit.” She reached behind with her elegantly shaped claws and began to clean twigs and bits of canopy detritus from her scale.
“Do you know much about the wildlife around here, Imfamnia?”
“I know the rats in our resort come in three colors, all ugly, and the birds make far too much noise before it’s decently light out. I’m no Ankelene.”
“I saw a big—it must have been a mammal. But winged, and not feathered, with claws—”
“Oh, that’s one of NiVom’s snaggletoothed bats. He’s hard at work breeding them into gargoyles. He found the method in one of those dusty old books we took from the blighters in Old Uldam before that DharSii could get his greedy sii into it.”
“How does one breed gargoyles out of bats?”
“I’m not sure, something to do with dragonblood and certain choice organs. CuRemom knows more about it than even NiVom, perhaps you should ask him.”
“Is that wise?”
“They’re loyal as dogs, always in hope of the next drop of blood, but you can’t really trust them without evidence. They’ll lie like a rug to get the next feeding. Your brother almost got there before us, feeding some bloodsucking cave-bats, but he just lucked into it and didn’t breed for effect.”
“Why?” AuRon asked.
“For the same reason your brother does, to have spies. Clever of him, using vermin that way. You can never have too many eyes looking out for you, but I hope he stops at four with these gargoyles.”
The more he learned of the Lavadome and its ways, the less he liked it.
“I hope my brother’s Grand Alliance doesn’t turn into a vast version of the Lavadome. Sounds as though it could end badly.”
“You’re a droopy drake, to be thinking of endings with a new world just begun.”
“It’s my nature, I suppose. When the sun is shining I wonder how long until the next rain.”
Imfamnia gave up on her scale, muttered something about leaving it for the thralls, and went snout-to-snout with him. “What kind of ending do you want, AuRon?”
Growing up in the Lavadome must also give one different ideas about personal space. AuRon lifted his head away. “For me?”
“Yes, and for dragons in general.”
“I’d like to avoid an ending. That’s why I believe that the farther we stay away from humans, the better. I don’t like binding our fate to theirs.”
“You think humans are the real threat?”
“My father did, and nothing I’ve experienced has caused me to change my opinion. The deadliest nondragon I ever met was a human. He killed many of our kind.”
“Are you speaking of the Dragonblade?” Imfamnia asked.
“Yes.”
“He was just one man. Any one man only has a brief period of health and vigor, hardly longer than a butterfly’s beautiful season in the air. Men rarely see things through; they make some fine starts but it all goes to pieces in a few generations.”
“You’re an odd one, Imfamnia. You can prattle on for hours about dipping one’s claw-tips in liquid silver, then shift to questions of existence.”
Imfamnia looked over his leathery skin, from behind the crest to tailtip. “Mate with me, AuRon.”
“What?”
“Oh, fly with me, then, if you must use poetic language. Take me up.”
“Imfamnia!”
“You find me attractive. I can tell. Your neck-hearts go pink. Usually you have to look at a dragon at just the right angle to tell, but your skin makes things so much easier.”
“I’ve no wish to be with anyone but my mate.”
“Your neck says differently. You’re not a badly formed dragon. You lost your tail at some point, I can tell, and it’s come back—though there’s still that distinctive notch. I bet that just makes you faster in the air. You could catch me in no time.”
“Let NiVom do the catching. He’s your mate.”
“Being mated to NiVom was strategy. He’s obsessed with his plots and plans and tests and breeds. I’m asking you for a little excitement. It’s been forever since I’ve been around interesting dragons. Just your bucolic Upper World accent makes me go all goosey. I can hear the whisper of pines and howling of wolves in it. Those dull warriors of the host, suspicious Wyrr messenger dragons, soft Ankelenes—you’ve really lived and achieved, I should very much like to hear your song. You back-to-nature dragons are keen on that whole lifesong tradition, I believe.”
“What do you know about my song?”
“Natasatch gave me a few details. Now don’t look like a decapitated horse, she’s very proud of you, even if she thinks your reclusiveness is a bit stifling. I don’t blame her for being fond of you. I see what she means now, with a moon like that above and your snakelike suppleness. I’ll wager that you’re delightfully flexible, and I hate some big male’s scale catching under mine and pulling as we fall.”
“I’d never dishonor myself or Natasatch in that way.”
She extended her wings and fluttered them. “Honor takes all the fun out of life. Come, we’re lords of the earth, and leaders among dragons. Don’t let silly old notions tie you down until you’ve died without ever having lived, like livestock waiting for the culling. Life is short.”
“Dallying with mated dragons is a sure way to shorten it even further. A hot lust for—”
“You’re still talking to me, I notice.”
AuRon climbed up one of the trees she’d broken in landing. “Good night, Imfamnia.”
He returned to their guest-cave. Natasatch was sleeping lightly and opened her eye at his return. “So, what do you think of our neighboring Protectors?”
AuRon swished his tail in indecision. If he told her about Imfamnia, there might be trouble, there’d definitely be some pain and doubt, and there was a slim chance she’d demand a duel of some sort. “They’re free with their food and coin and… feelings.”
“This is a fine resort they have. I suppose Ghioz is a rich Protectorate. Naf could never afford to build us something like this. I don’t think it’s such a bad thing to be free with your feelings and quick to make friends.”
The wind veered, blowing cold right into their cavern and AuRon dragged a twin set of curtains closed over their entrance. He spat into a fire pit in the center of the room. It warmed within almost immediately, and the smell of dragon-flame stimulated him. “Not if it’s genuine. This is all play acting. They might have been elves acting out a mime-battle.”
“Oh AuRon. Ever the crab, worried about the next turn of the tide. Don’t be foolish in refusing riches. Let go and enjoy yourself a little.”
AuRon almost let out an embarrased Naf-ish mule’s bray at that.
“I’ll keep a foolish constancy,” AuRon said.
“Not the words I’d choose. Our Tyr has built a wonderful thing. Dragons can help humans and humans can help dragons. You and Naf will be long remembered as great among your people. Our offspring will see peaceful days.”