Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

VII

The manor was now his.

Pride and worry wrestled for control. Aurim’s mother had left for Talak the night before, leaving him in charge. He knew, of course, that Benjin Traske was supposed to keep an eye on him, but even still, the Manor was now most definitely his responsibility.

As he walked through the garden, Aurim grew more confident. The Manor virtually ran itself. Despite all those who had accompanied his father and the others to Talak, there were more than enough people left who understood the day-to-day running of the miniature kingdom. The young warlock was there more as the symbol of authority, the final arbiter, he decided.

He felt confident enough in himself that he was willing to try a spell. Not a grand, dangerous one, but a small yet complex incantation. Aurim glanced around. There was no one nearby. The closest structures were the stables, and there Ssarekai the drake and Derek Ironshoe, his human counterpart, would have their apprentices and workers busy. With most of the animals gone, the stable masters were hoping to give the buildings a thorough cleaning out-no small feat.

The younger Bedlam held his hands before him, palms up. With his mind, he sought the forces of the world, forces he thought of as part of the natural makeup of the land but what most folk simply called “magic.” The link was made and drawn upon with but a single thought; to an outsider, the action would have seemed instantaneous. Aurim knew that compared to his parents he was still a bit slow, but the potential-and to his disgust it sometimes seemed it would forever be only potential-was within him to be the greatest mage to walk the realm since his great-grandfather, Nathan.

The expectations people had of him were ofttimes daunting, which was perhaps why Aurim still had trouble with his control. Now, however, no such fears haunted him. In the comfort of his newfound role as temporary master of the house, he was able to use his new confidence to strengthen his will.

A bouquet of flowers formed in his open hands. The bouquet was a good foot high and as wide as his body. Bright colors running the full span of the spectrum decorated the arrangement. Flower after flower blossomed, only to give way to their successors, which in turn gave way, and so on. . . .

To someone standing some distance away, the warlock’s bouquet would have hardly seemed an amazing feat, considering the sort of things even a slightly competent mage was supposed to be capable of creating. It was only upon closer inspection that the complexity of Aurim’s spell became evident.

The flowers were not flowers in the literal sense. Up close, it was possible to see the multitude of tiny, glittering figures constantly rearranging themselves to create new patterns. Each figure was a round, almost spherical, clown no larger than a fly. They crawled, climbed, jumped, and even flew. Aurim did not directly control each movement-no mage he had ever heard of in his mother’s stories had had that much skill-but the young warlock did direct them in the manner in which they created the flowers. Their other actions were based on smaller subspells he had prepared in advance. The main spell, like so many others designed to hone one’s concentration, had no apparent value other than visual delight, but the practice itself prepared a novice spellcaster for the time when such manipulation of the natural forces might mean life or death. Of course, while the practice was important, Aurim also simply enjoyed such fanciful creations. It was a challenge to him to see what he could design next.

He was just starting to expand the bouquet when a commotion from the stables made him dispel his creation. A roar from within hinted at one possible cause of the trouble. There were still some riding drakes and horses in the stables, and it was possible that one of the former was not taking kindly to being moved so that the stable workers could clean its pen. If it was a mother drake, then there was even more chance for disaster.

With Ssarekai and his men inside, Aurim doubted that the situation was very critical, but it behooved him to see if there was any way in which he could contribute to a speedier conclusion. He hurried to the stables, only belatedly recalling that he could have saved precious seconds by transporting himself, and cautiously entered.

“Massster Aurim! You should not be in here!”

Ssarekai himself pushed the warlock to one side just as a long, scaly tail whipped their direction. Aurim regained his balance and watched as two drakes and a short, bearded man, one of Ironshoe’s helpers, struggled to keep a half-grown riding drake under some loose sort of control. The dragon men, one on each side of the beast, tugged at guiding ropes. The human stablehand, meanwhile, was attempting to use a pitchfork to prod the beast toward an open doorway just to the creature’s right. Two other humans stood to the side, one of them binding a wound on the left arm of the other.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, my lord! Nothing!” Ssarekai bowed quickly. He and the other dragon men in the stable differed in some ways from the warriors most humans saw. The reptilian riding master and his helpers resembled, for the most part, their fiercer counterparts, but unlike the Dragon Kings and their warriors, these drakes were without crests. Instead, they appeared to be wearing round helms that partially covered the inhuman faces within. No hissing dragon’s head adorned the top. Ssarekai and his kind were members of the servitor caste, a caste rarely seen, since most often servitors generally remained in or around the clan caverns.

The drake turned back to the struggling hands and hissed out a command that Aurim did not catch. The workers redoubled their efforts. Another pair of humans entered the stable. They raced to each side of the stubborn monster and joined the two drakes holding the guide ropes.

Slowly, the beast came back under control. Ssarekai hissed another command, this one evidently to someone beyond the doorway the men were trying to lead the riding drake through. There was an answering shout, then something outside and beyond Aurim’s view caught the beast’s attention and sent it scuttling almost gleefully through the desired entrance.

As the animal and its handlers vanished, Ssarekai hissed the drake equivalent of a sigh of relief. “I ssso much prefer horsssesss to sssuch ssstupid beasssts!”

It was strange hearing a drake speak so. “You like horses better than one of your own mounts?”

His companion smiled, revealing the predatory teeth. A forked tongue darted out and in. “People are alwaysss comparing horsesss to riding drakesss, but in my opinion, we should be comparing the ssstupid beasts like that one to your mulesss! Useful pack animalsss, but ssso stubborn! Horssses can be like that, but for the mossst part, they are quicker to learn and obey. I would choossse them over riding drakesss under almost every circumssstance.”

“I seem to recall that Derek Ironshoe seems fascinated by the qualities of riding drakes,” teased Aurim.

“Only asss animals of war! Massster Ironshoe wasss a cavalry sssoldier once.”

By this point, it was clear that there was no need for the warlock’s presence. Still, trying to give the appearance that he was as concerned as his parents were over the everyday running of the Manor grounds, Aurim asked, “How goes the cleaning, Master Ssarekai?”

The drake shrugged, a gesture more common to humans than to his own kind, but one he had picked up from his years working with Ironshoe. Ssarekai had been one of the first drakes sent to work for the Bedlams when they had been given custody of the Dragon Emperor’s hatchlings. He, more than most drakes, had come to an understanding with the humans who lived here. There was no one who lived at the Manor who did not respect the reptilian stable master.

“We are, asss I sssuspected, behind in our tasssk. Master Ironshoe hasss a group ssstill working on the ssstables where the royal mountsss are kept.” To Ssarekai, mounts used by the Bedlams were as royal as those utilized by Kyl or any of the Dragon Kings. It was debatable as to whom he was now more loyal. Aurim wondered whether the elder drake would depart with the others when Kyl finally left for the Tyber Mountains and his throne.

“Then, I probably shouldn’t trouble you anymore. I just wanted to make sure that everything was all right.”

Ssarekai nodded his head respectfully. “Your concern isss appreciated, Massster Aurim. Better to be sssafe, I always sssay.”

“Father would certainly agree with that. Well, good luck to you.” The warlock, his sense of duty satisfied, turned and started toward the doorway through which he had entered.

“And to you, my boy.”

Aurim stiffened. There was a sudden twisting in his stomach, as if someone had thrust a blade through him and now sought to add further to the agony of that thrust. The golden-haired sorcerer remained still, trying to understand the reason for his horror. Something concerning Ssarekai? What? Ssarekai had said nothing out of the ordinary. Aurim turned around. The drake was making an inspection of one of the stalls and seemed to have already forgotten his recent visitor.

Why do I feel like this? His stomach continued to feel as if it were being twisted. A sense of dread crept over him, yet Aurim had no explanation for it. The scene before him was hardly conducive to fear. Ssarekai was the most trustworthy drake Aurim knew, more trustworthy than most humans. The warlock’s only other choice seemed to be the stable, but since he had no part in the cleaning of it, for which he was thankful, Aurim could not see how the building could possibly unsettle his thoughts.

Perhaps sensing that he was not alone, Ssarekai looked up from his work. “Wasss there sssomething else, Massster Aurim?”

“No. Sorry.” What could he say to the stable master? Aurim backed out of the building, unable to tear his eyes from it until he was well away. Even then, the feeling of unease continued to shake him. So occupied was he, in fact, that the youth did not notice the trio that stood quietly talking to one another at the edge of the garden until he was almost next to them.

A breathtaking maiden with long, dark hair and exotic, narrow eyes filled his vision. Her face was a dream, her lips full and inviting. The dress she wore was the color of roses and did nothing to hide the lush form beneath it. Had he not grown up with her, played with her as though she were a sister, Aurim might have been spellbound. As it was, he could only think again of the fortunate male who would someday be Ursa’s choice. Peculiar as it seemed, however, that male would not necessarily care that much for her present appearance; he would likely prefer her in her true form.

Ursa was a female drake: sister, albeit from a different clutch of eggs, to both Kyl and Grath. She also bore the royal birth markings, which meant that while she could not be empress, the drakes not permitting such, the young female could be the mother of one. Ursa did not care about that, however. All she cared about was her best friend, her sister in all but the physical sense: Valea.

The two were together even now, but this time a third person was with them.

Benjin Traske looked up from what he had been doing and stared at him, stopping Aurim in his tracks with just that glance. Valea was partly turned to the scholar, as if the two had been in earnest conversation. All wore rather serious expressions, but whether those expressions had to do with whatever conversation he had interrupted or whether they concerned his own agitated countenance, the young warlock could not say. At the moment, that did not matter nearly as much to him as the reason for his own uneasiness. Flickering memories danced about in his mind, teasing him.

“Are you all right, Aurim?” Ursa asked, coming to his side.

“It’s nothing.” A face surfaced in his memory, but it was blurred and distorted.

Benjin Traske gently moved Valea aside. He walked over to Aurim and looked him in the eye. “You do not look well at all, lad.”

“It’s . . . night . . .” The warlock had no idea why he had mentioned nighttime, yet somehow it made sense. He tried to focus on both night and the face, trying to fit them together. “I thought I saw . . .”

“Look at me.” Traske took him by the shoulders. The two matched gazes. The scholar studied Aurim carefully. “I do not see anything. Your eyes look clear. Your face is a bit pale, but nothing terrible.”

The pressure on his mind faded. Aurim began to breathe easier. The memories slipped away, but they no longer seemed of any real importance. All that remained was a slight headache.

“Do you wish to lie down?”

He shook his head. “No, sir. It’s nothing. Just a little headache.”

The massive tutor released him. He still eyed the younger man closely. “Well, if it happens again, come to see me. A reoccurring problem is nothing to be ignored. I should be able to find some way to deal with it. You understand me?”

“Yes, sir.” It all seemed rather silly now. Aurim could not even recall what had caused the headache, which was already receding.

“Do you want someone to walk with you?” Ursa asked.

He found that he was a little embarrassed by their concern. At least Valea was not fawning over him. His sister remained behind the others, also concerned but only watching. Her mind appeared to be elsewhere, but at the moment Aurim had no interest in whatever it was his sister was thinking about. He only knew that he still felt ashamed at the fuss he had just caused.

Aurim extricated himself from Ursa’s hold. “I’m fine. I am. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“Not at all, lad.”

“If you’ll excuse me, then?” Executing a half-bow, the embarrassed youth departed quickly, leaving the others to return to whatever conversation he had disrupted.

What was I doing? he chided himself. Now they’ll think I can’t run this place on my own! Can’t even put up with a small headache!

Tramping across the Manor grounds, he turned toward the kitchens. Some food and water would do the trick. He was probably just hungry. Aurim had hardly eaten at all today. That was all it had probably been: a headache brought on by a lack of food. Considering his normal eating habits, his body had likely just not been used to so little for so long. I’ll feel fine after that! No more headaches!

The throbbing had already all but ceased, and as for the peculiar memories . . . they were once more forgotten.

In a private conversation some minutes after the fact, the Green Dragon informed the Bedlams that he had been unprepared for the request Kyl had flung before the rulers of Talak just prior to the supper’s end. Neither the emperor-to-be nor Grath had given any hint in previous conversations with him. It had startled the Dragon King as much as it had Melicard.

It had startled Cabe equally as much, although he had been able to hide his surprise better than most of the others. Only Darkhorse, who simply shook his head, and Grath, the only one with whom Kyl had, perhaps, discussed his decision, had seemed fairly calm about the matter.

The heir to the dragon throne had requested the opportunity to perform a special ceremony, one that he had claimed was long overdue. It was to be a private but formal ceremony, with wreaths and a speech of apology to both the city and its rulers. Kyl had claimed that he wanted to prove once and for all that the sins of the father would not be ignored by the son.

What was most stunning about the request was that the dragon heir desired to have this special ceremony take place before the burial chamber of Melicard’s father, Rennek.

At first the king had been dumbstruck. Then he had stopped just short of calling the notion something that certainly would have raised the threat of war between the two races. At last, he had looked to his queen for guidance. Erini had simply put one slim hand on his elfwood arm and nodded. That had settled it for Melicard. If Erini thought the idea had merit, the king could not argue. This was a situation where Cabe had known that Melicard would be unable to trust his own judgment. The warlock was rather surprised that the queen had so readily agreed to it, but he, like the king, trusted her intelligence.

That had been last night. By now, late in the morning, the entire castle, perhaps even most of the kingdom, would be astir with rumors. When exactly the ceremony was to take place was still undecided, but the master warlock hoped that it would be soon; if the event was delayed more than a few days, then Cabe feared that . . . well, to be truthful, he had no idea what might happen, just the feeling that something would happen.

“What could’ve possessed Kyl to make such a daring move?” he asked his wife as the two spellcasters walked the grounds of the palace. Unlike most visitors, the Bedlams did not require an escort. That did not mean they were not watched. Cabe could sense eyes on him: eyes, and weak, inexperienced probes. Melicard had himself one or two mages now, it seemed, but neither were of any high level of skill. The warlock knew that Gwendolyn had also noted them and found the probes almost as amusing as he did. With a simple spell, either Bedlam could have left the hidden mages following a false trail for the rest of the day. As guests, however, it would have been bad form. Melicard was only acting in the manner of all cautious rulers past and present. He was by no means either the most paranoid or the most troublesome.

“I am curious as to that myself,” the Lady Bedlam finally responded. “That even Lord Green had known nothing about it bothers me a little. I understand that Kyl did not need to consult anyone, but such an act should have, I think, made him think about doing so. You saw Melicard’s face.”

“Every variation.”

“Yes, well, we can thank Erini for his relative calm toward the end. Melicard’s parents have always been a touchy subject. Rennek IV was not the best of rulers, evidently, but he had a soft place in his heart for his son.”

“And too fragile a mind,” added Cabe. Ahead of them, he heard the laughter of a child and the sound of the queen’s voice.

“It is a clever suggestion,” the crimson-tressed enchantress admitted. “Now that Melicard has gotten over his initial confusion, he should be able to see that himself. It allows Kyl to show his willingness to admit to the terrors committed in the name of his sire, while at the same time it enables the king to show his people that he is strong enough to have the respect of the new emperor of the drakes. That no one but we will witness it makes no difference. Word will get out and that will be sufficient.”

“Providing it ever takes place.”

She grimaced. “I think I will urge Erini to convince her husband that it should take place either tomorrow or the day after that. Most likely the day after; with the formal reception this evening, tomorrow would make everyone feel hurried for time.”

Cabe looked at her, a wry smile spreading across his plain features. “Exactly who runs this kingdom? You? Erini? Lynnette, perhaps?”

Gwen had no chance to respond to his jest, for suddenly both of them became aware of the sound of soldiers running. The sound came from the same direction where they had both heard the queen and her daughter playing not a moment before.

No word passed between the two, but suddenly Gwen no longer stood at his side. Cabe hesitated only long enough to ready himself, then also vanished.

He materialized in the midst of spear points and sword tips. More than a dozen guards surrounded the scene, with yet another contingent arriving even as the warlock drank in his surroundings. Erini stood to one side, a small, delicate-looking girl holding her hand and two massive guards shielding them both from possible danger. Darkhorse stood near the center of the circle the soldiers had formed, but it was not the eternal at whom the weapons were pointed.

A drake cowered before the captain of the guard. Darkhorse was on the dragon man’s other side, looking more curious than wary.

“Pleassse! I meant no-”

“Be silent!” The captain struck the drake across the false helm. Cabe noted the lack of crest; the prisoner was one of the servitors, not a warrior. That did not mean that the drake was not capable of killing, but it did make it unlikely. They were generally not very aggressive for their race, even in dragon form.

It seemed doubtful that any of the drakes would be so foolhardy as to attack one of the royal family, even as a dragon. True, any one of the draconian visitors had the potential to become one of the legendary leviathans, but in Talak that was more likely to mean death to the shapeshifter than to his prey. It was reasonable to assume that Melicard had planned for such circumstances; the king would never have allowed the drakes in otherwise. And prior to the departure of the caravan, Lord Green had made certain to remind his folk that even an accidental transformation meant punishment . . . possibly at the discretion of Melicard himself.

To most drakes, Melicard was a demon in human guise. Cabe had been confident from the start that none of the reptilian race would risk themselves so.

Which brought up the question as to what had happened here.

“Captain, I command you to stop that.”

The guardsman looked at his queen, rather befuddled that she would give such an order. With evident reluctance, he lowered his hand. “But Your Majesty-”

“Stay here, Lynnette,” the queen whispered to the slim, ivory-skinned child. The young princess, despite her appearance, was no fragile flower, but this was one time, Cabe saw, that she would obey her mother without question. Erini stepped past the two reluctant guards and confronted the captain. “I gave you a command.”

Her words were spoken softly, but the soldier nonetheless paled. He saluted and stepped back.

The queen finally seemed to notice the Bedlams. “I am glad the two of you are here. Do you recognize this drake?”

Cabe thought he did, but Gwendolyn spoke before he had a chance to commit himself. “Osseuss, isn’t it?”

“Y-yessss, my lady!”

“He was trying to sneak up on the queen and the princess!” snapped the captain of the guard.

The drake shook his head. “Nooo! No!”

“Lies!” The soldier made to strike the drake again, but a glance from Erini made him falter. “My men saw him creeping around the trees, Your Majesty! Creeping around the trees and watching you and the Princess Lynnette!”

“And me!” rumbled Darkhorse. “Come, come, Captain! Do you think one drake is any threat to me?”

Even under the chilling gaze of the shadow steed, the veteran warrior remained steadfast. “I was doing my duty!”

“And very well,” soothed the queen. “I thank you for your concern, but I have my doubts as to the danger posed by this particular drake. Tell me, Osseuss; why did you come here?”

The dragon man glanced at the Lady Bedlam, who nodded to him and said, “Tell the truth.”

Keeping one eye on the captain, Osseuss explained, “I wasss lossst. The landsss, they are ssso beautiful, ssso well-kept! I wandered, then realized that I had become turned around. I thought I knew the way back, Your Majesssty, but found myssself here inssstead! I grew fearful, knowing that I wasss where I wasss not meant to be, and when I sssaw you and your daughter, my heart pounded! I was certain that I had condemned myssself by not paying attention!”

“Why is that?”

“A drake near the bride of Melicard the Terrible? Only for the royal party isss that possible! For the ressst of usss, that is surely sssuicide!”

Judging from the guards’ expressions, it was clear to Cabe that Osseuss was correct in that assumption. These men were ready to kill the servitor simply because he was what he was. To be fair, Osseuss should have known better, but if men could be foolhardy, then so could drakes. In some ways the races were too similar.

Queen Erini looked at the Bedlams. Gwen studied the cringing drake for a moment longer, then said, “I will vouch for him. His duties at the Manor concern the care of the gardens there. Osseuss has always been one of the most loving caretakers. I will definitely vouch for him.”

“So will I,” Cabe added in support. Unless Osseuss was a cunning mage comparable in power to the trio of spellcasters before him, his story was genuine. While neither Cabe nor his wife had delved into the drake’s thoughts, it was simple enough to read the truth in the emotions radiating from the mind of the servitor. There was true fear there, fear mixed with confusion and self-recrimination.

The guardsman was still not convinced. “But Your Majesty! We can’t just-”

“Are you questioning the word of our guests, Captain? If so, you will also be questioning mine, because I find I agree with them in this matter.”

As if that was not enough in its own right to crush what protest there was left in the officer, Darkhorse added, “And if you question the word of my friends, then know you that you also question my word!”

Seeing that there would be no more interruptions, the queen did the unthinkable. She held out her hand to the prisoner. He stared at it for several seconds, trying to decide what she intended. When it was clear that Erini did not plan to withdraw the proffered hand, Osseuss reluctantly took it. He rose, then executed a perfect bow.

“Can you find your way back on your own now?”

The drake hesitated. His reptilian eyes continued to flicker between the queen and the captain. A forked tongue darted out and in as he nervously considered her question. “I . . . I am not sure.”

“I would give you an escort, but I think that emotions run too high for that at the moment.”

“I will return him to his companions.”

Everyone looked at Darkhorse, whose attitude so far had been surprising. He had sided with a drake and now offered to see that same drake back to safety. It was almost amusing. Osseuss was at least as fearful of the eternal as he was of the guards.

“Are you certain you wish to do that, Darkhorse?”

The ebony stallion chuckled. “I thought I had just said so! Do you doubt my word, Your Majesty?”

“Never.” The queen smiled. “Thank you, then.”

“I am your servant!” Darkhorse trotted up to the still-anxious drake. The captain of the guard-and the rest of the guards, for that matter-retreated as the shadow steed neared the prisoner. “Come with me, dragon!”

Osseuss looked to his master and mistress for confirmation.

“Go with him,” Cabe responded. “There’s nothing to fear.”

It was clear that the servitor could have argued that point, but he nonetheless obeyed the warlock. The circle of guards gave way for the duo, the nearest soldiers wisely deciding to lower their weapons as Darkhorse trotted by.

Erini watched the strange pair depart, then summoned the recalcitrant officer to her. “I want you to know that your loyalty is commendable, Captain. These next few days will be difficult for all of us. Caution is good, but we must never lose control.”

There were many things that the guardsman probably wanted to say in response, but this was his queen and so he could only obey. The captain saluted her. “I understand, Your Majesty.”

“You may resume your duties, then. I wish you the best of luck. This will be a taxing situation for you and your men, but I have every confidence in your abilities.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

The captain organized his men and led them off in record time. Only four soldiers still remained, the personal guard of the queen herself.

“I thank you, Erini,” Gwen said when the captain was gone.

“It was a mistake; I saw that, too. I was glad that you were there to verify it for me, however. My skill at sorcery will never be as great as either of yours.”

“Yours is formidable enough. You have done us proud.” The queen had been the Bedlams’ first student and, so far, their most promising. The handful of spellcasters that had been brought to Penacles were, for the most part, folk who would never be able to do much more than light fires with a glance or lift small objects into the air. There were one or two who might go beyond that, but so far no one who had the potential to even remotely approach the power of either the witch or the warlock.

This did not mean that such did not exist. Cabe could count four whose powers were adequate at the very least. Three of those worked for King Lanith of Zuu. The other was a wanderer, a blond beauty who had used the name Tori and who had, at one point, attempted to seduce Cabe. Considering the way these four had turned out, the sorcerer wondered whether or not it was a good thing that so few others of any measurable might had appeared so far. The present crop of spellcasters was not by any stretch of the imagination a shining example of what a new age of sorcery might offer the world. Too many people already feared those like the Bedlams, who had done them no harm at all. If more like Lanith’s lackeys appeared, the reputation of sorcery would only be tarnished further.

Queen Erini had blushed slightly at the compliment. “I thank you for your confidence in me, Gwendolyn.” Her expression changed almost immediately. “But enough about that. I am glad that both of you are here. If you will excuse me for one moment. . . .” She turned back to her daughter and the remaining sentries. “I believe it is almost time for your lessons, is it not, Lynnette?”

The little princess made a very unladylike face, but under the queen’s steady gaze she finally nodded. “Yes, Mother.”

“I thought so. Then you had best be on your way-” Erini raised a hand as her daughter started to run off. “Not like that and not without some company. Also,” she added in softer tones, “it would be nice if I could have a hug first.”

Smiling, Lynnette rushed over to her mother, who leaned down and took the girl in her arms. They held one another tight, then Erini reluctantly allowed her daughter to slip away. Lynnette curtsied to the two mages, then returned to the guards. One pair followed the princess as she started back toward the palace.

Queen Erini sighed as she watched her only child depart. “It gets hard to watch them grow up so fast! I remember when she was but a baby!”

The Bedlams were quiet but sympathetic, understanding all too well the sensation the queen was experiencing.

“Enough of that!” The slim woman looked at her two old friends. “I am glad you happened along, because I have need to talk to you. Melicard has agreed to the ceremony taking place soon after the formal reception but has not set a specific day and time. Do you have any suggestions?”

Cabe looked at his wife, who smiled back at him. Turning her gaze back to the queen, the Lady Bedlam replied, “We were just discussing that very subject before we heard the soldiers!”

“And what did you decide?”

The warlock could not resist. “My wife the royal counselor thought that the day after tomorrow would be best. It would allow a day of calm for all of us after the excitement of tonight’s reception.”

Erini could not hold back her smile. “The royal counselor may be correct. I was thinking along the same lines. What time of day would the royal counselor suggest?”

“To be fair,” began Gwendolyn, giving Cabe a piercing but playful stare, “I think the royal counselor’s husband should contribute on that matter.”

“And what do you say, royal counselor’s husband?”

Unschooled in the eccentricities of proper royal behavior, Cabe had no idea what time of day would be appropriate for such a solemn ceremony. Thinking of his own preference, he hesitantly answered, “In the morning?”

Erini considered this for quite some time. Cabe hoped that he had not erred in some way. Better to face an angry Dragon King than try to muddle his way through the idiosyncrasies of the monarchy.

“Yes, the morning might work. I have always thought that there was something captivating about the first few hours of the day, something touching the soul.”

The warlock relaxed.

“I will take your suggestions to my husband. If he finds them agreeable, then they will be presented to Lord Kyl and Lord Green.” The queen hugged them both. “Thank you, both of you. I always know that I can depend upon your sage advice.”

“We’re glad to help in any way we can,” Cabe returned. Gwen echoed his sentiments. Erini was a good friend.

“The day after tomorrow,” repeated the slim monarch. “In the morning. Early, so that the wonder of a new day will touch us all . . . those of us who can appreciate morning, that is.”

“How fare the preparations for the reception this evening?” asked the Lady Bedlam, changing the subject.

“Everything is moving swimmingly. I have been planning for this day since it was first suggested some time back. The food will be ready. The ballroom is being prepared even as we speak. All the arrangements are proceeding exactly as I hoped.” Some of the queen’s high spirits faded. “Now, if only the guests could be so obliging. Not everyone thinks that peace with drakes is a good thing.”

Drakes eating and drinking alongside the cream of Talak’s leadership. Cabe tried to hide his own anxiety from Erini. It was one thing to have a private supper between the two rulers, but the reception invited so many new and unpredictable elements into the situation.

“I’m sure that they’ll-”

“Erini! Are you all right?” called a frantic voice.

They turned to see the king come rushing across the lawn. Behind him and having difficulty keeping pace with the distraught monarch were Baron Vergoth and Melicard’s personal guard.

“It is all right, Melicard! I-” The queen had no chance to say more, for the tall form of her husband suddenly enveloped her.

“I just spoke with the guards protecting Lynnette! Curse those drakes! I’ll have the whole bunch of them slaughtered, with that snake who would sit on the throne beheaded before the entire city!”

“Melicard!” Erini’s eyes were wide with fear, but fear for her husband and her people, not for herself. “You will do no such thing! Think what that would mean! The rest of the Dragon Kings would see no choice but to fall upon Talak with their full combined might!”

“I do not care!”

“But it was a mistake! The drake did nothing! He was lost and happened to wander too near. The sentries saw him and mistook his presence for a threat, but he was only trying to find his way back to the others. If anyone was in danger, it was him! Just ask Cabe or Gwendolyn.”

Melicard turned his unsettling gaze toward Cabe, who was forced to steel himself when the unseeing, elfwood orb fixed on him. “What is she saying?”

“The truth,” the warlock responded. He did not allow the king any time to argue. “It was a servitor drake. They’re more inclined to work than assassinate. This one was scared out of his wits. Your guards did their duty,” he added, not wanting to sound too recriminating, “but in this case they had nothing to fear.”

“Where is this . . . lizard?”

“Darkhorse led him back to the others. Both my wife and I will vouch for the drake, Melicard.”

“As will I, husband.” The queen forced the hesitant ruler to look at her again. “It was nothing. Perhaps the guards still worry because they are not used to even the presence of a drake in the city, but they were wrong if they told you that I was attacked.”

The king stilled, but the tension had by no means left him. Why did this have to happen now? wondered Cabe.

Baron Vergoth dared speak. “Shall we locate this drake, my lord? Question him ourselves?”

Melicard stared at his bride. Erini gave him a look of defiance. “No, Baron. Not this time. It seems we were mistaken.”

The aristocrat looked rather disappointed, but he nodded.

“Thank you,” whispered Erini. She hugged her husband, then gave him a light kiss. “And thank you for your concern.”

“I would give up all of Talak if it meant your safety.”

“Let’s hope it will never come to that, then, shall we? I think the people deserve better.”

With some effort, the king turned to the Bedlams. “I thank you two for your assistance in this matter. I also apologize for any inconvenience that this may have caused you.”

The sorcerer would have liked to have said something concerning the fact that the one who had suffered the most inconvenience was the drake Osseuss, but such a bald statement would not have sat well with the king. Instead, he replied, “I hope that this doesn’t make Kyl more reluctant.”

Beside him, Gwen gasped. For once, he had thought of the ramifications before she had.

Melicard, too, saw the possible consequences. “I will have a most sincere message relayed to the Lord Kyl. You also might inform him of my regrets, should you see him before the messenger does.”

“As you wish.” Cabe was too relieved about Melicard’s acquiescence to point out that he was hardly at the beck and call of Talak’s master. “I’m glad that everything is back to normal.”

“Nothing will be back to normal until those drakes are gone,” the lord of the mountain kingdom snapped. “Even after that happens, I doubt if we will ever be able to relax! For the sake of my family and my people, I hope that I am wrong, but the history of the drakes, at least during my lifetime, has been fraught with nothing but troubles.”

“Hopefully,” interjected the Lady Bedlam, “this visit will alter that.”

“Yes . . .” Melicard squeezed his wife hard, but his eyes never left the mages. “I hope it will, but you would all be wise to remember what I said earlier: if I find any proof, any at all, of a threat to either my family or my kingdom, I will take the drakes, no matter what the cost, and execute each and every one of them . . . beginning, I think, with Lord Kyl.” Melicard released Erini and began to turn toward Baron Vergoth and the guardsmen. “Now if you will excuse me, I have a reception to prepare for.”

The king, trailed by his men, stalked away, leaving in his wake three silent, thoughtful figures.