Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

XV

“They’ve killed him, Cabe. . . .” The Gryphon snarled, his claws unsheathing and sheathing. His entire body quivered with unreleased fury. His mane bristled as the lionbird struggled to maintain his control. “They killed Toos!”

Cabe Bedlam stared in horror at the grisly tableau before him. The regent of Penacles lay face forward in the Gryphon’s arms, a scarlet blossom of blood across his back. The bolt had penetrated so deeply that it had nearly burst through the rib cage, if the warlock was any judge. It was a wonder that the old mercenary had lived even the few moments he had. That he had done so had made the situation that much more tragic, for Toos had lived just long enough for the Gryphon to return, then had died almost in his former commander’s arms.

When the Gryphon had looked up from his so-far futile attempts to free the minds of Aurim and Ssarekai and warned about danger in Penacles, his companions had been stunned. Cabe knew that his old friend kept some sort of link with both his mate and his former officer, but not even the warlock had known how strong or immediate those links were.

The lionbird had not even paused to explain. He had asked permission to leave, received it, and had vanished, leaving the Bedlams to recover their wits on their own. Naturally, Cabe and his wife had followed as quickly as they could, but even then it had been too late.

The arena was in chaos. Guests ran about in full panic and there were shouts of “Assassin!” from all corners. Toos was sprawled on the floor of one of the boxes used by the chess players. Kyl was gone, evidently spirited away by his two bodyguards. Around the fallen regent and his former commander stood a wary and fearful group of human soldiers.

Cabe had never seen the Gryphon this distraught. It was clear to the warlock that he would have to handle matters for the moment. “Which way did the bolt come from?”

One of the guards pointed upward and to his right. He added, “Our men already give chase, Master Warlock! We shall have them before the hour is ended!”

The mage was not so certain. “Have you discovered how they got so close?”

The sentries looked frustrated. The spokesman slowly replied, “No, Master Warlock. . . .”

“This . . . smells of . . . of magic,” Gwen commented. Cabe glanced at her. There were tears streaming from her eyes, but there was also a hardening in her face. He knew that his own visage now held a similar cast.

He made a decision. Too much time had already passed. “You stay here with the Gryphon, I’ll-”

Cabe was interrupted by a group of pale guardsmen. Two of them carried bundles. An officer, a captain by rank, gave the Gryphon a half-hearted salute, which the lionbird did not even notice. Cabe signaled the officer his way.

“You know who I am?”

“Yes, Master Bedlam!”

“You can tell me everything. Have you found them?”

This last caused the captain to grimace. “In a matter of speaking, my lord. . . .”

“Please, Captain . . .” begged one of the men. In one hand he carried a glove that appeared to be full of some substance. The Bedlams glanced at one another, then Cabe indicated that the officer should explain his words.

Swallowing, the captain indicated the bundles two of his men were carrying. “I think . . . uh . . . I think this is all that’s left of them, Master Bedlam.”

“What?” For the first time, the Gryphon acknowledged the presence of the newcomers. Still clutching the form of his old comrade, he glared at the captain and added, “What do you mean?”

“One of the men s-saw it, Your Majesty.” The captain had the bundles brought forward. He also signaled the man holding the one glove to join them. “The assassin . . . he . . . he was . . . my lord . . . he was crumbling! Darion saw him and Darion doesn’t lie, Your Majesty!”

“Aye! I’ll swear to it, my lord!” added one of the guards laden with a bundle. The burly soldier looked around as if daring someone to contradict his words. “It’s truth!”

“Explain in more detail,” encouraged Gwendolyn Bedlam.

His arms filled, the guard called Darion used his chin to indicated his captain. “He said it all! I saw the man . . . it was a man, lordships-ugly and bearded. Looked like a northern type maybe. All I really saw was him look my way, then his eyes, they went wide, they did.” The veteran hesitated, still unnerved by the sight. “Then . . . then, he just went to pieces, like he dried out and crumbled to sand!”

The captain took over. “Your Majesty, we brought all that was left of him. Some others found a second figure, but he . . . he was already dust.”

The Gryphon looked up to his two comrades. “Could you . . . do you think you can verify . . . ?”

Gwendolyn nodded. Without a word, the two spellcasters took the bundles from the grateful warriors. The third man held out the filled glove toward Cabe.

“What’s this?” the warlock asked.

“It’s one . . . uh . . . it’s one o’ them, lordship.”

Cabe almost snatched his hand back, but if the guards had forced themselves to bring back some of the remains, it behooved him to do what he could with it.

The enchantress inspected her bundle. “What about the weapon? Where is it?”

There was something stiff in Cabe’s bundle. Gingerly, he opened up the cloth, which appeared to be some sort of glittering cape folded inside out, and discovered a crossbow. Oddly, there were no more bolts to go with it. “I’ve got it here.”

“These will need a more thorough examination later,” Lady Bedlam commented, her interest in discovering the truth for the moment overwhelming her sorrow, “but there is something we can do now.”

Both of them were already at work. Those who had gathered around watched in wary curiosity. To the eye, all that the two did was pass a hand over each bundle, Cabe also repeating the process for the glove and its grotesque contents. He gasped as his fingers traced patterns over the glove. It was as the guard had said; this had once been human. He could tell no more about the unfortunate assassin save that whatever had killed him was no ordinary sorcery.

“This . . . is . . . strange,” was all his wife could add at first.

From where he squatted, the Gryphon cocked his head. There was an unhealthy look in his avian visage, Cabe thought. “You said ‘strange.’ How so?”

“It reminds me of . . .” She looked at her husband for aid.

“We both know what it reminds us of.” The warlock hesitated, but when he saw the further tensing of the Gryphon’s body, he decided that a swift response was the better choice regardless of what results the truth might then bring. “It reminds both of us of Darkhorse. It bears his trace.”

“Or something akin to him,” interjected the enchantress. There had once been a time when Gwendolyn Bedlam would have been the first to call Darkhorse demon, but now she was his champion. He had saved the lives of all the Bedlams more than once.

“There is nothing we know of in all the Dragonrealm that is akin to Darkhorse.” Yet it was clear that the lionbird did not think the eternal was responsible for the day’s tragedy. He looked down at the still form in his arms and in a much gentler voice added, “But perhaps he, like old Toos, has become a pawn.”

“He’s still missing,” whispered Cabe, his blood going cold. He had feared that the shadow steed had been captured by the one who had set the magical snares, and now it seemed that that fear was likely a thing of substance.

The Gryphon started to rise, but could not without leaving the body of Toos lying alone on the cold floor. Freeing one hand, he waved the nearest sentries over. “Take him gently. Bring him to his bedchamber and have the doctors clean him up as well as they can. I also want a pair of you to take these bundles and bring them to my rooms. They should be guarded until I have time to more thoroughly inspect them. I shall give you further orders when you return.”

The ease with which leadership shifted from the murdered regent to the former king did not surprise Cabe Bedlam in the least. The Gryphon was legend and the regent had always made it quite clear that he would have gladly stepped aside at any time. There was also inherent in the lionbird’s manner a natural sense of command, one which made others willing to follow him. He was, the warlock concluded, meant to be a leader, and now, despite his best attempts to forever discard such a role, it appeared as if the Gryphon once more had a kingdom to rule.

With great care, the guards slowly lifted the body of Toos from the floor. The Gryphon, rising, watched each and every movement. Under such a baleful gaze, the men dared not fail in maintaining their holds. No one desired to test the wrath of the distraught monarch.

Two of the men who had brought the remains of the assassins took both the bundles and the glove back. Cabe was not sorry to give up the gruesome objects. The Gryphon was welcome to do what he wished with them as long as it helped them discover who was responsible for the death of Toos.

When the guards and their terrible burden were out of sight, the Gryphon at last returned his attention to the mages. From the crowd still gathered emerged his mate, Troia. She moved past the Bedlams and enveloped her husband in her arms. The cat-woman was well aware of the place Toos had had in the Gryphon’s life. The tall, cunning general had been family, a brother in spirit if not in blood.

Taking hold of his wife, the Gryphon looked at Cabe Bedlam. There was now a cold calm in his voice that did not bode well. “I want the one behind this, my friend. Was it . . . do you think it was Talak?”

“There’s no proof one way or the other,” Cabe quickly responded, the notion of a war between the two powerful kingdoms filling him with horror. “And I don’t think that it was Melicard, Gryphon.”

“I know it isn’t,” added Gwendolyn. “Erini would never forgive him, and he cares more about her love than he does his old vendetta.”

“Then it seems to me,” growled the lionbird, unsheathing his claws again, “that it must be Zuu. They would gain in a war in the east.”

Cabe put a hand on his friend’s free shoulder. “Before you do anything, you’d better make certain. We’re so close, Gryphon! Toos would’ve advised caution; you know that.”

At first, the angry monarch simply stared at the warlock with his unsettling avian gaze. Then, some of the anger faded. The Gryphon nodded. “You are correct, of course. There are others who would benefit by what happened today. It’s . . . it’s hard to recall that Toos was not even the target; it was Kyl, after all.”

“Kyl!” gasped the enchantress. “We haven’t even seen how he is!”

“Then go to him, friends. I’ve lost a dear comrade, true, but the young drake’s faced death up close.” The Gryphon looked around at the gathered guards and functionaries. “Besides, I think that there is enough here to keep me occupied . . . for a lifetime, even.”

“Will the guards have taken Kyl back to his suite?”

“That would be most likely, yes.” The lionbird sighed. “And good luck with him. I cannot say what effect this may have on the heir; we will have to watch him closely.”

The warlock agreed. “Once we know a little more about how Kyl is faring, one of us will have to search for Darkhorse. More than ever I fear that he’s in grave trouble.”

“I think you are correct.” With a shake of his head, the Gryphon added, “Why is the process of peace always so violent?”

Cabe had no answer. Instead, he simply wrapped his arm around his wife and asked, “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

Their surroundings altered. The scene of the regent’s assassination became the extravagant chambers put aside for the visiting emperor-to-be. Several draconian guards leapt to action as the pair materialized, but the Green Dragon, standing to one side of the room, signaled for them to relax.

Kyl sat in a tall, cushioned chair next to his bed. At first he stared ahead, but upon the Bedlams’ sudden arrival, he turned to the mages. His eyes gleamed with a combination of anger, confusion, and fear. Grath stood beside him. He looked at the two spell-casters with an unreadable expression.

“They tried to kill me!” the heir to the dragon throne abruptly spat. “They tried to have me assssassssinated!”

“Did they catch the assassins?” the Dragon King asked in a quieter, calmer voice.

“The assassins are dead. They either killed themselves or were killed by whoever sent them.”

“Ssso no one claimsss to know, then. Convenient.” Kyl looked to his brother, who only shrugged. The heir leaned back, his hands gripping the chair arms tight. “I want to go back to the Manor.”

“There are still-” began the Green Dragon.

“I want to go back now!”

Under the circumstances, Cabe could not really blame him. Kyl had been confronted with the ugliest of all aspects of rule: the desire by someone to remove him from the throne even before he was allowed to sit on it. The only reason that they had not succeeded was due to the quick but unfortunate interference of Toos. “Kyl, I hope you don’t think that Penacles was responsible for this-”

The handsome face twisted into a look of incredulity. “I think it pretty clear that it wasss not, or at leassst that it wasss nothing to do with the lamented regent, but the fact remainsss that I am not sssafe here!” Kyl’s hands were shaking. He turned to the enchantress. “Missstresss Bedlam! Will you allow me entrance to the Manor?”

Gwendolyn met Cabe’s gaze. “It might be for the best right now.”

“Someone should stay at the Manor, anyway,” he returned. “It might be that Darkhorse will still turn up-”

“Darkhorse?” asked the Green Dragon in a confused tone.

“He’s missing. It may be that he’s fallen prey to the same forces behind this assassination.”

The Dragon King’s only response to that was a low hiss and a nod.

“Will you take usss, then, my lady?” Kyl asked again, more plaintively. “Myssself, my brother, Faras and Ssgayn, and Lord Green?”

The Green Dragon straightened. “With your permission, my liege, I would like to conduct my own invessstigations into this terrible event. Between Massster Bedlam and myself, I think then that we shall have most probabilities covered.”

Kyl was clearly on the edge of collapse. He waved a dismissing hand. “Then by all meansss, go. If you can find the fiendsss resssponsible for this disssassster, then so much the better . . . but I want them brought before me.”

“Of course.”

“If I may,” said a voice from behind Cabe. “I would like to return to the Manor with the others. I can serve no true purpose here.”

The Bedlams turned to find Benjin Traske standing next to a small wall table. He had been so still and quiet that the warlock had not even noted his presence, an unnerving thing to Cabe. Still, it was not as if he had been consciously searching for the man.

The emperor-to-be gave his former teacher a cursory glance. Kyl now seemed only half-aware of what was around him. “If you mussst. I don’t care. I jussst want to go back now.”

Traske bowed, then joined his two former students.

Cabe hugged his wife goodbye. As they pulled one another close, he whispered in her ear. “Keep a very good eye on Kyl and wish me luck. This could be more complicated than we imagined.”

“What are you saying?” she whispered back. “Was Toma responsible for this, too?”

“I don’t think he’s any more responsible than Talak or Zuu is. I . . . I have some strange suspicions.” Cabe released her without explaining further. She looked him in the eye, then finally accepted his enigmatic response. The Lady Bedlam knew that her husband would not long hide things from her. If Cabe did not want to tell her now, it was only because he did not have much to support those suspicions.

Stepping away from her husband, Gwendolyn Bedlam joined the two drakes and the scholar. She waited just long enough to assure herself that they were prepared, then, with one last glance at Cabe, vanished with her charges.

The remaining drakes looked to Lord Green for guidance. He seemed to consider their position, finally commanding, “Rejoin the rest of the caravan. Someone will be there to take command before long.” Facing the warlock, he asked, “Friend Bedlam, do I have your permission to have sssomeone take charge of the caravan and return with it to the Manor?”

Cabe had not given that part of the situation any consideration, but he realized that they could not just abandon the drakes and humans in Penacles. “Yes, I think that would be fine.”

“You have your orders, then,” the Dragon King told the guards. “Be certain that you have a human essscort, however, and by all meansss, do not become involved in any altercation with our hosts here. Those who do and survive to tell about it will not be pleasssed that they did. I will guarantee that.”

“Perhaps we had best escort them as far as the arena, Your Majesty,” the warlock suggested. “With tensions the way they are at this moment, we don’t dare let any of your people wander around without guides.”

“Yes, that would be best.”

As it turned out, their return to the arena was uneventful. The Gryphon was still there, as Cabe had rightly assumed. He was talking to two warriors clad as champions of the chess game. Brow furrowing, the curious sorcerer stepped up his pace.

Noticing the mage’s return, the lionbird dismissed the two combatants. He acknowledged the Dragon King but focused his attention on Cabe. “I have been speaking with the two warriors who did battle when the assassination occurred. They told me one or two interesting things.”

“What would those be?” the drake lord asked before Cabe could speak.

Looking at both of them, the lionbird replied, “During their battle, at the moment just prior to the attack, both had difficulties keeping their grips on their weapons. The man who wore the armor of king, especially, claimed his weapon seemed to have a life of its own. He reports that it fairly flew out of his grip and headed straight for where the heir and Toos stood.”

“It fell several feet short, if I recall,” commented the Green Dragon.

“Yes, it did. The timing is too good, however. At the very least, the flying weapon was a decoy, I believe, designed to draw the attention of the victim and those around him. No one would be watching. The assassins would then strike . . . and die. Someone invested much sorcery to make this work, but they underestimated poor old Toos.” The Gryphon blinked. “How is the emperor-to-be doing?”

“He requested to be brought back to the Manor,” Cabe replied, judiciously avoiding mentioning the manner in which Kyl had put the request.

“No longer trusting Penacles and its ability to protect him, eh? I cannot blame him. My Lord Green, Cabe, I’ll tell you now that any agreements made between Toos and the drakes will be held to. I will see to that-” the lionbird sighed “-as the ruler of this realm.”

“That isss good to hear.”

The king of Penacles bristled, but it was not due to anything the Dragon King had said. “I will not let Toos die in vain. He wanted peace more than I did. I will do anything I have to to see that peace succeed.” He closed, then reopened his eyes, visibly trying to keep himself calm. “But you desire something. How may I help?”

Cabe quickly described the situation, emphasizing his need to hunt down Darkhorse before any more time had passed. As much as he tried not to think about it, the fear that it was already too late to save the shadow steed nagged at him. The warlock was aware of how many times in the past he had underestimated Darkhorse, for in truth the eternal was more powerful than he, but knowing the shadow steed and how willing he was to go charging into the fray, Cabe could not help but worry that each time Darkhorse vanished would be the last any would see of him. Darkhorse had the capability of living forever-as long as he was not destroyed.

The Gryphon wasted no time once his friend had explained. He quickly summoned one of the general’s aides and ordered him to lead the drakes to the caravan.

“I will go with them and arrange their departure,” suggested the Dragon King. “When I am through, with your permission, I will depart for my own realm. It may very well be that through my own methods, we shall overcome Toma’sss plotting yet.”

“You think that Toma did this?”

The drake’s eyes burned red. “I do.”

“I wouldn’t have expected him to use such methods. He is more likely to move behind the scenes.”

“Then, if it isss not him, I may also discover that.” The Green Dragon bowed to both Cabe and the Gryphon, then joined the draconian soldiers. “Rest assured, I, too, want this peace to succeed.”

As the drakes followed the aide, the monarch of Penacles rubbed his beak. “An odd farewell, but then, I’ve never completely understood drakes.”

“I think that they have the same problem with us.”

“Yesss. . . . Cabe, where will you search?”

The warlock kept his face neutral. It was too early to tell anyone of his suspicions. “I have a few places in mind. I knew where Darkhorse planned to be at certain times after he last departed the Manor. I’ll check them first.”

“He may be dead . . . like Toos.”

“Then I’ll find the one who did it.”

The Gryphon’s unsettling eyes seemed to twinkle. “You had best find him-or them-before I do if you hope to have anything left.” He toyed with his talons, extending them to their full lengths. “I do not intend to hold back this time.”

Recalling how hard it had been for the lionbird to “hold back” when he had been tracking the murderers of his firstborn son, Cabe shuddered. He hoped that it would not come to that. If the Gryphon lost control, there was no telling what he might do.

Evidently, the lord of Penacles was thinking much the same thing. He almost glared at the warlock, but managed to prevent himself. Instead, he simply turned a little away, his eyes shifting to nothing in particular, and said, “The sooner you leave, the more chance you have of saving him.”

Cabe did not need another hint. He bowed to the former and present ruler of the City of Knowledge, then vanished.

Valea was with Ursa and Aurim when her mother returned with Kyl and the others. The trio, along with a nervous Ssarekai, had finally abandoned the underground chamber, assuming that it might be some time before their parents returned. Aurim was the first to see the newcomers as they materialized in the front hall of the Manor.

“They’re back!” he pointed out to the others. “But Father’s not there and . . . and Kyl and Grath are!”

They hurried to meet the returning party, Valea with conflicting emotions. Fear stemming from the knowledge that something had happened in Penacles intertwined with relief that Kyl was safe. She started to greet him, but the expression on his handsome visage made her pause. It was both cruel and confused. Even Grath showed signs of anger, although he hid them much better than his brother. Scholar Traske revealed nothing.

“What is it? What happened in Penacles?” asked Aurim, his own problem not even a concern to him at this point. “Where’s Father?”

“Your father is all right,” Lady Bedlam replied quickly, so as to relieve some of her family’s fears. “He searches for Darkhorse, who’s missing.” Her face grew more somber. “You should all know . . . Toos the Regent was killed during an assassination attempt on Kyl.”

“Gods!” The young warlock shook his head.

Ssarekai swore an oath by the mythical Dragon of the Depths. Valea could scarcely believe what she was hearing. Her relief at finding Kyl safe gave way to her grief for the towering old soldier. He had been like the grandfather she had never had-and who would have wanted Azran anyway?-giving her presents and tolerating her questions about the war years.

In the midst of their grief, Kyl suddenly snapped, “If he had not died, it would have been me, inssstead!” He straightened his clothing and tried to look unruffled. “If you will excussse me, Lady Bedlam, I desssire greatly to return to my roomsss.”

“I quite understand, Kyl.”

The drake had not even waited for her response. Already turning, he snapped his fingers at Grath and his bodyguards. “Come with me!”

With the dragon heir in the lead, the drakes departed the still-stunned group. Valea found herself just a bit put out by Kyl’s attitude, although, admittedly, he had been through much today.

“How do you feel, Aurim?” Benjin Traske asked suddenly. His question first struck the novice sorceress as incongruous to the situation at hand, but then she recalled that the massive tutor had been in Penacles. He would know more about the events that had taken place there than the progress, or lack thereof, of the Bedlams’ attempts to free the minds of her brother and Ssarekai.

“The same,” her brother remarked halfheartedly. It was clear the news about dear Toos was far more important to the young Bedlam.

“I see.” Traske turned to Valea’s mother. “My lady, perhaps it might be good if I left your company for now. This is a matter for you and your family, and I can perhaps be of better use to Lord Kyl. I do not doubt that he is going through a conflict of his own.”

“I should go to him-” the enchantress began.

“You are suffering also, madam. Your family knew the regent better than I. I mourn his death, true, but not near as much as you. I think that you should explain things to the young here. I will do what I can for my former pupil.”

“Thank you. In truth,” responded Gwendolyn Bedlam, “he probably would listen to you more than he would either Cabe or myself.”

An uncharacteristic smile spread across the scholar’s bearded countenance. “It pleases me to hear you say so.” He performed a bow. “My lady . . .”

Ursa suddenly looked anxious. “Scholar, may I go with you? He isss my brother.”

He hesitated. “At this point, young lady, it might be better if you waited. Let me do what I can. Too many new voices might drive the emperor-to-be to further distress. He needs a guiding hand at the moment.”

Valea thought she knew the true reason why Benjin Traske did not want Ursa along. Ursa did not really get along with Kyl. One of Kyl’s greatest faults, subconscious or not, was that he saw the females of his race as inferior creatures. The courtesy he freely gave to Valea, the young drake only forcibly gave to his own sibling. It was a strange double standard that she would never understand. Valea had tried to question Kyl about it, but it was one subject he refused to discuss.

Her mother looked as if she wanted to speak in Ursa’s defense, but Valea’s friend acquiesced before she could do so. “You are right, of course, Scholar Trassske. Will you let me know how he is?”

“As you desire.” The tutor bowed again, this time taking his leave immediately after. Valea wondered if other households were as abrupt as hers. Throughout her life it had always seemed as if people were in a hurry. Everyone was always rushing someplace.

She, too, wanted to be there when the scholar told Ursa how Kyl was faring. It was purely for selfish motives, she knew, but she was aware that the kind of tragedy he had faced could change him permanently. Valea feared that those changes would put them farther apart from one another.

Her mind returned to poor Toos. She felt guilty that she should be so concerned about Kyl when the regent had died saving his life. I wonder how the Gryphon is taking it? They were good, good friends. . . .

Lady Bedlam was doing her best to maintain control. She said, “Why don’t we go to the drawing room? I think it would be wise to be as comfortable as possible while we talk. This situation is hardly over. We are going to have to be wary for some time.”

They all understood what she was saying. Valea knew that where there had been one assassination attempt, there might be others.

The enchantress began to lead them away, then paused when she realized that there was still another member of the party. The drake Ssarekai had remained behind after the others had left. Valea liked him; he hardly seemed like a dragon at all. How left out he must feel right now!

“Ssarekai? You are welcome to join us, you know. Don’t think that you aren’t family after all these years. You’ve gone farther than many toward making cooperation between our races work.”

The stable master had been staring down the hallway Benjin Traske, Kyl, and the drakes had used. With effort, he shifted his gaze to the sorceress. “I thank you deeply for thossse wordsss, my lady, but I have let too much time pass. There are dutiesss that I realize I must see to before it isss too late.”

“Very well. We have not given up on the spells that bind you and Aurim. I want you to know that they are still priorities with us.”

The drake shrugged. “I have had it this long; I think that if Master Aurim can wait, then so can I.”

Valea’s mother swore an oath, so upset was she. “There’s always too much happening at the same time! These spells should be removed as quickly as possible!”

“They don’t seem to be harming us, Mother. I can wait, too.” Aurim’s face was pale. “Besides . . . I need to hear what happened. I need to hear about Toos. How did Toma sneak assassins into Penacles? How does he find his way into everywhere?”

For some reason, this made their mother pause. At last the fire-tressed sorceress admitted, “Your father thinks it might have been someone else who plotted the assassination. He hopes to find out more. . . .” She hugged herself, obviously worried. “I pray that he doesn’t find out more than he planned.”

The others nodded, Valea making her own private wish concerning her father’s safety . . . and the rescue of Darkhorse. At least, she thought, the assassins had failed in their goal; Kyl was alive and well.

She would have to see him at first opportunity. He would certainly not turn her away. As selfish as she knew it was for her to think so, Valea could not help wondering if perhaps this tragic event would be what finally brought them together. She would be good for him, especially now. Kyl would not have to fear for her; Valea had the power not only to protect herself but to further augment the heir’s own magic. Between them, no assassin, however well armed, would stand the slightest chance of success.

Not even Toma, she decided.

Grath had a great desire to slap his brother’s face again and again until the idiot calmed down and thought properly once more, but he knew that such action would only see him dismissed from Kyl’s side. That would ruin everything that had been planned.

The death of General Toos had been a tragic loss, both politically and emotionally, but Grath had long ago learned to put the worst aside, leaving his mind clear for thought. He would miss the regent, miss him much more than his mentor would, of course, but overall the human’s death had been worth the price. After all, if not for Toos, Kyl would be dead and Grath would be forced to take his place. It was much too soon for that. Perhaps later, once it was clear that the power of the Dragon Emperor was secure.

Of course, first he had to free his brother from the shock and paranoia Kyl now suffered.

“They tried to kill me, Grath! Thossse missserable humans! I should overrun them all when I am emperor! They cannot be trusssted, the furry ssscavengers . . . but . . .” Kyl’s face twisted into an expression of extreme uncertainty. “The regent gave hisss own life to sssave mine! I would have been murdered but for him!”

Faras and Ssgayn exchanged glances that Grath noted out of the edge of his eye. They were beginning to question both their emperor-to-be’s sanity and his bravery.

He put a brotherly hand on Kyl’s shoulder. “Now isss not the time to think about all of this, Kyl. The best thing to do right now is rest. You need rest. In only a few days, the Blue Dragon, representing the other Dragon Kings as well, will arrive in the Dagora Forest. He will want to question you. This will be your moment.”

To his astonishment, Kyl pushed him away. “I don’t care about the drake lord! If they cannot accept me asss emperor already, then I will make them come to me on bent knee!” A frightening glint came into the drake’s eyes. “Could it be that Blue or one of the other hesssitant onesss sssent thossse killers? They do all have their human agentsss, do they not, Grath?”

The last thing he wanted to encourage was a fear that the recalcitrant Dragon Kings might be trying to kill Kyl. True, it was a possibility that he had considered-only minutes before, in fact-but that was something that could be dealt with once Kyl and he gained the power of the Dragon Throne. The drake lords would be less inclined to attempt the assassination once his brother was officially their master.

Grath exhaled, trying to gather his thoughts together enough to give Kyl some sort of reassuring answer. The chaos in the arena had not been nearly so draining as trying to keep his brother in line. And he is to be the emperor?

He was still trying to decide what to do when there came a heavy knock upon the door. Faras stalked toward the door, weapon at the ready. Kyl, Grath was ashamed to see, actually drew back into his chair.

The guards tensed. Faras opened the door.

Relief washed over Grath as he saw who it was who had dared to join them.

Kyl looked up at the newcomer, still wary. “Ssscholar Trassske. You desssire something of me? I am rather busssy at the moment.”

“So I see,” remarked the tutor with obvious sarcasm. Grath knew that his brother had never heard the figure before him speak with such impudence. “Busy falling prey to your fears when you should be using them to strengthen you. A ruler must learn to control his weaknesses and make them work for him.”

“I don’t have time for your sss-”

Grath allowed himself a brief smile as Kyl broke off at the look on the massive figure’s face. At last there was someone who could make his brother see sense . . . and who else was better suited?

Benjin Traske ceased glaring at the heir to the dragon throne just long enough to deal with Kyl’s bodyguards. “Leave us.”

To Kyl’s astonishment-but not to Grath’s-Faras and Ssgayn bowed and hastily retreated from the chamber.

The dragon heir rose, intending to command the two to return, but Traske stepped directly in front of him. Kyl, trying to back away, fell into the chair.

“Things are moving much too swiftly now, but we can compensate. The death of the regent, while unexpected, does nothing to change the fact that you will be emperor in only a very short time. You survived the assassination, and now it will be almost impossible for whoever was responsible to attempt something else. I will see to assuring that.”

“You will see to that?”

“In whatever way is open to me, of course,” Traske corrected. “What is more important is to consider the next step you must take on the road to the throne. If I may suggest-”

This made Kyl laugh harshly. “Teacher, you are a human I admire, I freely admit that. Your advice I would generally find good, but you could not possssibly underssstand what I am going through. You do not underssstand the challenges, the myriad pitfalls, that I face in asssuming the throne of my kind.”

“Perhaps I understand more than you imagine. . . .”

“You would have to live through it yourssself. There isss no other way to underssstand it ssso well.”

Benjin Traske started to speak, then paused in consideration. At last, he simply said, “I can see that for now I am wasting my time here.”

He was leaving. Grath could not believe that. Here was the one being able to drag Kyl back to his feet and he was leaving without having even tried. “Teacher-”

Benjin Traske shook his head. “No, Grath. I will waste no time here. I can see that Kyl needs time to let his thoughts cool.” The huge figure loomed over the heir. “Then, Kyl, you and I will talk again. Much longer, this time.”

The heir had already slipped deeper into his chair. “I have no desire to do so.”

“You will.” Traske’s tone was such that Kyl could not help but straighten. It was the voice that had kept both drakes highly attentive throughout their lessons. It was a voice that brooked no disagreement, one that Grath knew his brother had not yet learned to control completely and probably never would.

Benjin Traske turned to leave, the issue of Kyl’s permission negligible under the circumstances, but then paused. He glanced first at Grath, then at Kyl, to whom he added, “You will be emperor. You will be strong. We will see to that.”

The dragon heir glanced up. His gaze did not leave the figure of the scholar until Traske had closed the door behind him. Then, Kyl simply turned to stare at one of the walls. Grath remained where he was, silent as the night. When Faras and Ssgayn returned, he indicated silence, then pointed where he wanted them positioned. They obeyed him without a sound.

Kyl continued to stare at the wall, but from where Grath stood, it was possible for the younger drake to see the look on his elder brother’s visage. Still brooding, but now Kyl was at least thinking. It was the first stage to recovery.

“Grath? What do you think of our esssteemed tutor?”

How to phrase it best? Grath hesitated, then responded, “He came here to see you made emperor, brother. He is not the kind to let years of work go for naught. When he says that you will be emperor, he means it.”

“Ssso I felt.” The dragon heir hissed. “I sssometimesss wish that Toma had sssucceeded our sssire after all. He would have brooked no threat from asssasssin or king, human or drake.”

“There isss much to admire in Toma,” Grath ventured. “He was loyal to our sire.”

“Ssso I was thinking.”

The young drake smiled at such a response, but only because his brother could not clearly see his face. Faras and Ssgayn could, but they were of no consequence; they knew their places.

“Perhaps, when you are emperor, you will be able to arrange to talk with him.”

The notion made Kyl blink. “I could do that, couldn’t I?”

“As emperor, who would stop you?”

“Who, indeed?”

Behind the emperor-to-be, Grath allowed himself another smile.