Dragon Rule

Page 33

“You take your responsibilities as a Protector of the Grand Alliance seriously.”
AuRon felt better, having unburdened himself. He owed his brother nothing, but it was still the right thing to do. “I take the fate of dragons seriously. There are few enough dragons left in the world. I’m not interested in there being even fewer, which is what will happen if there’s a war between us.”
There was the noise of dragon voices outside. NoSohoth said in a booming voice, “The Tyr is in private audience. He must not be—”
An aged female’s voice: “Oh, none of your delays, you old puff-toad. I will speak to the Tyr. His Queen is guilty of murder and he must answer for the murder of my daughter!”
How had NiVom and Imfamnia moved so quickly? No one could have outflown him.
A group of dragons entered. AuRon didn’t know the Copper’s retinue well enough to say who was who, but it was led by an aging, but still formidable, female.
“What’s all this, Ibidio?” the Copper asked.
“It’s about your mate, my Tyr. We believe she is guilty of murder.”
Chapter 13
The Tyr ordered everyone up to the Audience Chamber. Anyone might wander into the old dueling pit, and he did not want old bloodstains revealed to just anyone.
The procession of dragons trooped all the way back up in anxious silence. The Copper was grateful for the delay. It gave him time to think. His first instinct, to declare Ibidio a mad dragon, would not go over well in the Lavadome. Ibidio had many friends, both open and in secret.
The Copper faced a formidable assembly. Ibidio might be described as the head of the “First Line” of the Lavadome, the principal root of the Imperial Line. Her experience dated back to the glory days of the establishment of the first Tyr, Fe-Hazathant, after the civil wars were over. With her were his descendants, the twins SiHazathant and Regalia, who shared an egg and a yolk sac before hatching.
LaDibar stood a little behind and in between. The seriousness of the occasion forced him to keep his tailtip from exploring various orifices for once. A few other dragons of the Imperial Line stood safely at the rear of the party.
Only NoSohoth stood a little apart, as if declaring his neutrality and waiting to see his Tyr’s reaction.
“Yes, we believe Queen Nilrasha had her murdered,” Ibidio said. “If you loved Halaflora, as I’m sure you did, you would want to see justice done.”
He had loved Halaflora. Despite her weak constitution, she’d devoted herself to being a proper mate when they lived and worked as upholders in Anaea. After the initial embarrassment of a shared life and even having a mate had faded, he’d found himself looking forward to the time they spent together, and missing her if his duties called him away for more than a day. Beyond that, he was deeply grateful to her. She’d been the first of his kind ever to be, well, proud of him and eager for his company.
Murder!
In the Lavadome there had always been two standards for killing another dragon. One was in a duel—an activity participated in more by males than females—a practice the Copper had tried to end, as the richer and more powerful dragons could hire professional Skotl duelists and thus always win disputes at little risk to themselves. There were few enough dragons and more than enough enemies without killing each other off over insults and livestock theft. But even now, duelists were frequently pardoned if the fight was fair and the grievance just, otherwise. Especially in the case of professional duelists, they were exiled to the surface—though not out of the Grand Alliance, so several still found useful employment aiding a Protector.
The other was deliberate murder. The Griffaran Guard saw to it that murderers were torn to pieces. In the case of a dragon murdering a hatchling, the bodies weren’t even burned, they were fed to the Tyr’s Demen Legion.
“We even considered charging her with the murder of a hatchling,” Ibidio said. “Halaflora was so sickly she might as well have been freshly hatched, and she believed herself with a bellyful of eggs when she was killed.”
“I don’t accept her cause of death as murder. She choked. Nilrasha tried to save her. I was there, I saw her eating enthusiastically when she should have been downing her usual tiny bites. You might as well charge me with killing her as well, for she choked.”
“We have witnesses who say otherwise.”
“I see your goal, Ibidio. You’d like me to give up my position as Tyr. You’re using my mate as leverage.”
“I always thought of you as an interim Tyr until others, more worthy, grew to dragonhood,” Ibidio said. “You’ve wrought great changes, my Tyr, but there will be consequences even the wisest of us cannot foresee. You’ve put dragonkind in jeopardy with this Grand Alliance. My mate and his father believed it best to deal with humans in secret, or by proxy, or under carefully selected circumstances such as the men of Anaea. Now you’ve bonded us to the Hypatians, a corrupt and fallen branch of mankind who’ve had its day and should have been washed away long ago by the tides of history.”
Behind him as always, Shadowcatch began to grind his teeth. It’s a wonder they’re not dulled down to nubs, the Copper thought.
Ibidio’s response sounded carefully prepared. He had wanted to throw Ibidio off the track with a counteraccusation, but though Ibidio was well into maturity, she evidently still had a sharp wit. Perhaps he should keep to the subject at hand.
“We know you cared for your mate. There’s no thought that you have been involved,” Ibidio said. “But as her mother and therefore the most aggrieved, I and the Imperial Line want justice for Halaflora.”
The Copper drew himself up. He realized that in only having three sound limbs he’d never be as impressive as others, but he could still raise his neck high. “Had she been murdered, I would have seen to it, and no witnesses or traditions or circumstances would have availed the guilty party. But it was an accident. She believed herself with eggs and ate ravenously. But her throat muscles weren’t up to her desire—she choked to death. I felt the bone in her throat myself.”
“Perhaps it was stuffed down there,” LaDibar said.
“Shadowcatch, our Ankelene has formed a theory. I would like to see it tested. Tear down one of those banners, break its staff and see if you can stuff it down his throat.”
Shadowcatch reared up, removed a tattered banner from its bracket. One of the Griffaran Guard cackled in excitement.
“My Tyr, I meant no offense,” LaDibar said.
“Accusing my mate of murder will have that effect on me, LaDibar.”
“Threats won’t save Nilrasha, my Tyr,” Ibidio said. “I demand that my witnesses be heard and judged.”
“Produce them.”
“I’d rather spare you and Nilrasha the agony and embarrassment. I offer an alternative,” Ibidio said. “Have Nilrasha fully resign the office of Queen. She may remain where she is, officially in exile. She’s unable to carry out her duties, anyway; your sister’s attempts to be Queen-Consort prove it.”
Why would Ibidio settle for Nilrasha resigning as Queen?
“Produce your witnesses,” the Copper said. “I should like to hear what they say.”
“You’re in no position to judge the believability of our witnesses.”
“But I’m Tyr. I’ve always determined—”
“He should step aside,” Wistala said. “Let another question your witnesses. In Hypatia, there are men who do nothing but hear evidence and decide cases.”
“Human customs need hardly concern us,” NoSohoth said.
“Very well, if you object to me questioning them, perhaps NoSohoth would be willing to perform,” the Copper said.
They settled on a date to hear the witnesses two days hence in the old dueling pit, now being called the Voicehall. The name for it came from the new tradition that the Tyr listened to the concerns of any dragon and held questionings of important messengers and decided the fates of those accused of crimes.
While finishing perfectly ordinary business the next day, NoSohoth lingered in the passageway leading off from the Audience Chamber.
“Are you concerned about the questioning, NoSohoth?” the Copper asked.
NoSohoth raised a wing to shield their words from the curtains dividing the passageway from the Audience Chamber. “My Tyr, I would like nothing better than to see this whole matter go away. You have more important affairs to oversee. I hate to see my Tyr enmeshed in this sort of scab picking.”
“I’ll rely on you to judge fairly.”
“My Tyr, if you would allow a faithful old servant to speak his mind for a moment.”
“Yes?”
“Ever since your mate was injured, you’ve been away a great deal, and these old ears, tongue, and nostrils have been filled with managing problems as best as I can until you return to validate my decisions.”
“I’m sorry, NoSohoth. You’re absolutely right.”
“I’ve been serving the Imperial Line through all four Tyrs and before, when I stood guard atop the Imperial Rock during the civil wars. I am weary and need a rest, my Tyr. I was thinking of retiring to become a Protector and spend my remaining seasons sunning myself in the Upper World.”