Up In Smoke
Page 38
‘‘What is it?’’ Cyrene asked in a whisper, trying to see around me. ‘‘Is that a bed?’’
‘‘Yes. Stay here. I’m going to see who’s in the room beyond,’’ I answered, gesturing the two of them back.
Maata made a noise of distress.
‘‘No one will see me,’’ I reassured her and, being careful not to disturb a couple more crates placed in front of the opened door, tiptoed my way across the bedroom. Carefully I cracked the door open just enough to see out.
All I could see was the edge of a wall, and the entrance to a larger room that evidently served as a living room. A man leaned negligently against the wall, his back toward me, but the long brown ponytail stirred memories.
Blue flashed as another man crossed the room, his hands gesturing as he spoke. ‘‘—be so unrealistic? What you ask is not possible at all. I will not put my sept in jeopardy by allowing it.’’
A woman’s voice answered. ‘‘Your sept, such as it is, is in ruins. The situation has changed, and we must change with it. With the silver dragons possessing a shard—and surely they will be given access to the green sept’s shard—we must gather together the remainder.’’
‘‘Who is it?’’ Cyrene asked in an almost silent whisper. Both she and Maata had crept up behind me, Cyrene kneeling in order to peer through the crack in the door, while Maata, a good foot taller than me, simply looked over my head.
‘‘Fiat, the man who may or may not be Baltic, and some woman, I don’t know . . . agathos daimon,’’ I swore as the woman marched over to stand toe to toe with Fiat. ‘‘It’s Bao.’’
‘‘You are allowing your greed for the dragon heart to override the reality of the situation,’’ Fiat answered, his eyes glittering wickedly. ‘‘That is a mistake your predecessor did not make.’’
‘‘Chuan Ren is not pertinent to this discussion,’’ Bao said dismissively, turning away from Fiat and moving out of my range of vision. ‘‘I rule the red dragons now, and they will follow my commands. If you wish for our aid in restoring your sept to you, then you will release the Marcella Phylactery and cease wasting my time.’’
‘‘And place myself in a weaker position than I currently occupy?’’ Fiat shook his head. ‘‘I see little sense in that.’’
‘‘You see little because you are shortsighted and ignorant,’’ Bao snapped at him.
Fiat jerked as if he was holding himself back from striking her, forcibly relaxing his hands as he tried for a lazy smile. He raised an eyebrow at the mysterious man who still leaned casually against the wall, calmly observing the scene. ‘‘And what of you, my old friend? What do you say to this change in plans the red wyvern demands of us?’’
‘‘I have never sought the dragon heart, not even when it was within my grasp,’’ the man answered slowly, his voice deep and slightly roughened, as if he wasn’t used to speaking. ‘‘So long as my own plans are not affected, then I have no opinion on the subject.’’
Annoyance flashed in Fiat’s eyes. ‘‘Such an attitude is admirable, but lacking in foresight. Your plans may well be affected should the red wyvern achieve her goal and reassemble the heart.’’
The dark-haired man shrugged. ‘‘It remains to be seen whether or not the heart wishes to be used.’’
‘‘Bah,’’ Fiat snorted. ‘‘The heart is there to be used. It has no will of its own. You have lived too long in the past, my friend. Times have changed, and with them, so have the dragonkin. We no longer cling to superstitious beliefs.’’
‘‘Yes,’’ the man agreed in a mild voice, but there was an undertone that sent a little skitter of fear down my back. ‘‘Time has changed.’’
‘‘But you remain steadfast, eh?’’ Fiat asked, his voice and posture aggressive. ‘‘That will not do. You must make a stand, right here and now. Will you support the red wyvern’s plan or our original one?’’
‘‘It matters not to me,’’ he answered, waving a languid hand at Fiat as he straightened up. ‘‘Give her the shard, or do not. But think twice about summoning me again without due cause. I may be antiquated in your eyes, but I do not suffer fools gladly.’’
At that moment the same copper-haired woman who had been in the square appeared at the far doorway. She glanced around the room quickly, causing Maata, Cyrene, and me to freeze, but apparently she did not notice our door was ever so slightly ajar. Her gaze settled on the mysterious man, and it was to him that she spoke.
‘‘I have made the arrangements. We should leave soon, though.’’
‘‘This is finished; we leave now,’’ he answered, strolling past a silently fuming Fiat, pausing to eye the blue wyvern for a moment. ‘‘You aided me when I sought succor, and it is for that reason I will offer you a piece of advice: the natural flow of power should always be to a wyvern, never away.’’
Fiat said nothing but watched as the man and woman left the room, leaving him alone with the red wyvern.
‘‘He is an old one, too old,’’ Bao said with a curl of her lip. ‘‘He does not understand the power there is to be had in adapting.’’
‘‘He is steadfast in all things,’’ Fiat agreed, wandering over to stand just barely in view, in front of a marble fireplace. Over the mantelpiece a pair of authentic-looking swords hung, crossed in the traditional manner of weapon enthusiasts. Fiat touched one of the swords, adding in a thoughtful tone, ‘‘But much of that comes from experience, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned over time, it’s to never underestimate experience.’’
‘‘It is not advice that will regain your position in the weyr,’’ she responded with acid frankness.
‘‘Perhaps not, but I have found a nugget of gold in that advice.’’
‘‘Power flows to the wyvern, not away,’’ she said in a mocking voice. ‘‘How . . . mundane.’’
‘‘Oh, it’s not what he said that I find valuable,’’ Fiat answered, his lips curled in a friendly smile as he tidied a small vase on the mantelpiece. ‘‘It’s the memory of when I first heard it that has provided me with a resolution to the current problem.’’
‘‘Yes. Stay here. I’m going to see who’s in the room beyond,’’ I answered, gesturing the two of them back.
Maata made a noise of distress.
‘‘No one will see me,’’ I reassured her and, being careful not to disturb a couple more crates placed in front of the opened door, tiptoed my way across the bedroom. Carefully I cracked the door open just enough to see out.
All I could see was the edge of a wall, and the entrance to a larger room that evidently served as a living room. A man leaned negligently against the wall, his back toward me, but the long brown ponytail stirred memories.
Blue flashed as another man crossed the room, his hands gesturing as he spoke. ‘‘—be so unrealistic? What you ask is not possible at all. I will not put my sept in jeopardy by allowing it.’’
A woman’s voice answered. ‘‘Your sept, such as it is, is in ruins. The situation has changed, and we must change with it. With the silver dragons possessing a shard—and surely they will be given access to the green sept’s shard—we must gather together the remainder.’’
‘‘Who is it?’’ Cyrene asked in an almost silent whisper. Both she and Maata had crept up behind me, Cyrene kneeling in order to peer through the crack in the door, while Maata, a good foot taller than me, simply looked over my head.
‘‘Fiat, the man who may or may not be Baltic, and some woman, I don’t know . . . agathos daimon,’’ I swore as the woman marched over to stand toe to toe with Fiat. ‘‘It’s Bao.’’
‘‘You are allowing your greed for the dragon heart to override the reality of the situation,’’ Fiat answered, his eyes glittering wickedly. ‘‘That is a mistake your predecessor did not make.’’
‘‘Chuan Ren is not pertinent to this discussion,’’ Bao said dismissively, turning away from Fiat and moving out of my range of vision. ‘‘I rule the red dragons now, and they will follow my commands. If you wish for our aid in restoring your sept to you, then you will release the Marcella Phylactery and cease wasting my time.’’
‘‘And place myself in a weaker position than I currently occupy?’’ Fiat shook his head. ‘‘I see little sense in that.’’
‘‘You see little because you are shortsighted and ignorant,’’ Bao snapped at him.
Fiat jerked as if he was holding himself back from striking her, forcibly relaxing his hands as he tried for a lazy smile. He raised an eyebrow at the mysterious man who still leaned casually against the wall, calmly observing the scene. ‘‘And what of you, my old friend? What do you say to this change in plans the red wyvern demands of us?’’
‘‘I have never sought the dragon heart, not even when it was within my grasp,’’ the man answered slowly, his voice deep and slightly roughened, as if he wasn’t used to speaking. ‘‘So long as my own plans are not affected, then I have no opinion on the subject.’’
Annoyance flashed in Fiat’s eyes. ‘‘Such an attitude is admirable, but lacking in foresight. Your plans may well be affected should the red wyvern achieve her goal and reassemble the heart.’’
The dark-haired man shrugged. ‘‘It remains to be seen whether or not the heart wishes to be used.’’
‘‘Bah,’’ Fiat snorted. ‘‘The heart is there to be used. It has no will of its own. You have lived too long in the past, my friend. Times have changed, and with them, so have the dragonkin. We no longer cling to superstitious beliefs.’’
‘‘Yes,’’ the man agreed in a mild voice, but there was an undertone that sent a little skitter of fear down my back. ‘‘Time has changed.’’
‘‘But you remain steadfast, eh?’’ Fiat asked, his voice and posture aggressive. ‘‘That will not do. You must make a stand, right here and now. Will you support the red wyvern’s plan or our original one?’’
‘‘It matters not to me,’’ he answered, waving a languid hand at Fiat as he straightened up. ‘‘Give her the shard, or do not. But think twice about summoning me again without due cause. I may be antiquated in your eyes, but I do not suffer fools gladly.’’
At that moment the same copper-haired woman who had been in the square appeared at the far doorway. She glanced around the room quickly, causing Maata, Cyrene, and me to freeze, but apparently she did not notice our door was ever so slightly ajar. Her gaze settled on the mysterious man, and it was to him that she spoke.
‘‘I have made the arrangements. We should leave soon, though.’’
‘‘This is finished; we leave now,’’ he answered, strolling past a silently fuming Fiat, pausing to eye the blue wyvern for a moment. ‘‘You aided me when I sought succor, and it is for that reason I will offer you a piece of advice: the natural flow of power should always be to a wyvern, never away.’’
Fiat said nothing but watched as the man and woman left the room, leaving him alone with the red wyvern.
‘‘He is an old one, too old,’’ Bao said with a curl of her lip. ‘‘He does not understand the power there is to be had in adapting.’’
‘‘He is steadfast in all things,’’ Fiat agreed, wandering over to stand just barely in view, in front of a marble fireplace. Over the mantelpiece a pair of authentic-looking swords hung, crossed in the traditional manner of weapon enthusiasts. Fiat touched one of the swords, adding in a thoughtful tone, ‘‘But much of that comes from experience, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned over time, it’s to never underestimate experience.’’
‘‘It is not advice that will regain your position in the weyr,’’ she responded with acid frankness.
‘‘Perhaps not, but I have found a nugget of gold in that advice.’’
‘‘Power flows to the wyvern, not away,’’ she said in a mocking voice. ‘‘How . . . mundane.’’
‘‘Oh, it’s not what he said that I find valuable,’’ Fiat answered, his lips curled in a friendly smile as he tidied a small vase on the mantelpiece. ‘‘It’s the memory of when I first heard it that has provided me with a resolution to the current problem.’’
