Blood of Dragons

‘After you summon the dragons for us,’ Reyn ventured.



The smiles around the table faded a bit. ‘I’ll try,’ Sylve volunteered quickly. The others exchanged glances. Their thoughts were plain to Alise. Their King and Queen wished to speak with their dragons, but no one could promise the dragons would come.



‘Let the poor man get some rest!’ she insisted again, and Reyn seized the opportunity to stand up.



The gathered keepers groaned at losing him. He gave them a weary smile. ‘I would greatly welcome a bit of assistance with our trunks,’ he said gently, and the response was overwhelming.



Alise took the opportunity to slip out of the gathering. Her heart beat faster at the thought of her own reunion. She paused only to get her cloak and then hastened out of the door.



It was raining yet she wasn’t cold. She pulled up the hood of her midnight-blue Elderling cloak. It was spangled with yellow stars at the hem. Her feet and legs were warmly covered in Elderling garb as well. Sylve had been the one to bring it to her, telling her that everyone thought it ridiculous that she went clad in leaking boots and a ragged cloak while they walked in warmth and finery. ‘But … I am not a true Elderling like the rest of you,’ she had said. It was as close as she had come to admitting to anyone how much of an outsider she had become.



Sylve had scowled, her scaled brow wrinkling, first in puzzlement and then in annoyance. ‘Rapskal,’ she sighed in disgust. ‘Think of all the peculiar things that boy says, and then tell me why any of them should be taken seriously. Not an Elderling … Oh. I suppose that technically he was right. But only in that you have no dragon to demand ridiculous tasks on a moment’s notice. Not that Sintara would hesitate to do so! But, Alise, please, you have come all this way with us, done so much for us. Without you, do you think we would be here? Would we ever have dared believe this place existed? Look. I chose these for you, the colours will suit you. I’ve seen you wear the Elderling robe that Leftrin gave you, so why not dress as one of us?’



Alise had had no response to that. Not sure if she felt humbled or honoured, she had taken the garments from Sylve’s hands. And worn them the next day.



Now she pulled her Elderling cloak tighter around her as she strode through the windy streets and it was like wrapping herself in Sylve’s friendship. Winter had loosened its harsh grip on the land, and the last few days had seemed almost spring-like, but every evening the chill settled again and wind swept through the city.



The streets of Kelsingra were like the streets of no other city in the world. She hurried alone, the sole living figure on a thoroughfare wide enough for two dragons to pass one another. The buildings soared on either side of her, structure after structure with steps, porticos and entries scaled to dragons. Empty and dark, the broad streets still teemed with remembered Elderlings and occasional dragons, all bathed in an imaginary light. To that remembered illumination was added the light that spilled from the awakened city windows, now white, now golden, now a muted blue. A few of the larger buildings gently glowed in the darkness, acting as beacons within the city. She turned her face toward the waterfront.



She had seen Leftrin from the shore, shouted a greeting to him, and saw on his face all that she longed to hear him say. He had glanced around, agonized by the conflict between duty and longing, and she had suddenly known that she did not want to be something that required that sort of decision. He had to think only of his ship now, not arrange to have her board and become a distraction.



She remembered how the voice of Malta the Elderling had broken into her dilemma. ‘Alise? Alise Finbok? Is that you?’ She had felt startled and honoured that the Elderlings had seen fit to come to Kelsingra. Until she had seen the woman’s haggard face and skeletal child, and then a very different emotion had filled her. She had glanced back only once at Leftrin as she had taken charge of them, and had been proud to see the relief on his face. She had lifted a hand, waved a reluctant farewell and seen him echo the gesture. And then she had left the docks to escort Malta, Reyn and their child to what comforts she could offer them.



She and Leftrin had needed no words. Now there was a novelty; a man who assumed she knew what she was doing, and was willing to wait for her. A smile broke out on her face. She was willing to wait no longer.



She crested one of Kelsingra’s rolling hills and suddenly saw the riverbank scene before her as if it were a Jamaillian puppet play. The keepers had borrowed tethered light globes that graced some of the more elaborate gardens. The spheres gleamed golden and scarlet and their light ran away in spills across the streaming river water. She stood staring; never had she beheld anything like it. The yellow light bounced off Tarman’s deck and then faded into a halo around the ship against the black night. Men still moved there as shadowed silhouettes. The crew called to one another as they worked, the sound carrying oddly over the water. She saw squat and bulky Swarge moving across the deck, graceful for a man of his size. A moment later, she realized she had become accustomed to the slender silhouettes of the keepers. Ordinary folk looked strange to her now.