Love in the Time of Dragons

Chapter Eighteen

“Did I see artichoke hearts? I love those.” Cyrene peered anxiously down the table. “With garlic and parmesan? Does anyone see them?” We were in the north pasture, a large open field mottled with wild grass and bare earth. I would have preferred a more civilized setting, but the only way I could get Baltic to agree to have the sárkány at his house was allowing it to be held in an open field, where no one could hide in ambush. I didn’t think the wyverns would do something like that, but agreed with him that it would be best not to take foolish chances.

The ladies were seated around a couple of tables pushed together. The wyverns were together in a small clutch, obviously discussing something about the sárkány. Baltic stood alone, watching everyone with a glower that would have leveled a T. rex.

Pavel and I had spent the day in the kitchen, making a few snacks that I intended on serving after the sárkány itself, but it appeared that all the discussion about the lemon sorbet had set appetites on edge.

“Here’s a plate for you and Jim,” I told Brom as I handed him a tray with two plates piled high with hors d’oeuvres and canapés. “You may eat it in the kitchen, and afterward, Pavel said you could play with his video game machine.” “I don’t see why we can’t stay out here and watch Kostya have a couple of hissy fits,” Jim complained, nosing the tray to see what was on it. “Hey, we don’t get any of the famous sorbet? My mouth is all set for it!” “I left some for you in the freezer, and I prefer that you and Brom stay out from underfoot during the meeting. Speaking of which, don’t pester the dragons, either. All the guards are remaining in the house, and none of them looked very happy.” “Yeah, yeah, I can handle a couple of bodyguards.” “Don’t handle them — leave them alone. We had enough of an argument to get them to leave the wyverns out here alone.” “She just wants us out of the way in case Kostya comes unglued on Baltic again,” Jim told Brom as they started toward the house. Brom stopped and turned back, a suddenly worried look on his face.

I muttered something rude under my breath about Jim’s big mouth, hurrying over to Brom. “Sweetheart, nothing is going to happen. It’s just a meeting.” “Oops,” Jim said, looking contrite. “Uh… yeah, B-man. I didn’t mean that Kostya was going to hurt Baltic or anything. Besides, if he tried, your mom would turn him into fruit.” “That’s right,” I said, giving Brom a quick hug. “No one is going to get hurt.” He continued to look worried. “Can I talk to Baltic for a minute? I mean Dad?” “All right,” I said slowly, wondering if Jim had been saying anything to him about the fact that the weyr wanted Baltic executed. I glanced over at the man in question, who was standing with his arms crossed, watching everyone with grim suspicion. At my nod toward Brom, he strode over. “Brom wishes to speak with you.” He raised his eyebrows and looked expectantly at Brom, who squirmed slightly and said apologetically, “Can I talk to him alone, Sullivan?” “Er… certainly.” I moved off to check that the sorbet was still packed tightly in ice and not melting under the warm summer sun, before standing behind my chair.

“Oooh! Is that pesto?” Cyrene made happy little noises. “This is so good, Ysolde. You have to cater all the sárkánies!” “Thank you, but I think I’ll pass on that offer.” After a few minutes, Baltic returned, his expression unchanged. I watched Jim and Brom return to the house before turning to him. “What was that all about?” “He was worried about you.”

“About me? Hell! Jim must have told him about the execution order.” “No. He was worried that if the weyr did something to me, you would be left helpless. I told him that he had nothing to worry about.” “Because I’m not weak or feeble or without the ability to take care of myself,” I said, nodding my approval of the way he dealt with Brom’s concern.

“Because the weyr has no control over me,” he corrected.

A horrible feeling came to life in my gut. Before I could warn him of it, the wyverns marched over to the table, Kostya taking up a spot at the head. “The wyverns are all present. The sárkány can commence.” “Would you pass the crème fraiche cherry apricot scones?” Aisling asked May, who sat diagonally across the table from her.

I moved to stand next to Baltic, slipping my hand in his to both offer and receive comfort. His fingers curled around mine, making the fire in me stir just a little.

“This sárkány is called to order to address the issue of the deaths of the sixty-eight blue dragons in France.” “This olive tapenade is fabulous,” May said, moaning with delight as she popped a tapenade pinwheel into her mouth. “Almost orgasmic with the touch of cognac.” “Present are the wyverns of all five septs, with the exception of Chuan Ren, who has sent her son Jian to act in her stead.” Jian acknowledged the comment, taking a bite of a pesto, basil, and tomato freschetta.

“Who has the arancini?” Aisling asked, looking around.

“Lemon thyme, or mozzarella and basil?” Cyrene asked, holding up two plates.

“Oooh. Lemon thyme, please. Sweetie, would you like more arancini?” “This is like a bizarre love child of Martha Stewart and the Nuremburg trials,” I whispered to Baltic, noting that a couple of glasses were empty. I slid my hand from his and fetched a covered pitcher.

“Baltic, former wyvern of the black dragons, you have been charged by the weyr with the deaths two months ago. How do you plead?” “I do not plead anything,” he said loudly, his voice once again normal due to the ice pack I’d made him hold on his nose. “I do not need to answer the charges. They are ridiculous, and without proof.” “More iced tea, anyone?” I asked, holding up the pitcher. No one said anything, although Kostya looked like he was about to explode. “No? Champagne, then?” “Christos!” Kostya swore, slamming his hands down on the table as everyone held up their glasses for a refill. “This is a sárkány, not a brunch! Can we get on with the meeting?” “There’s no need to be quite so testy,” I said as I poured champagne, making sure to splash his over the side. “I don’t see why we can’t do this in a civilized manner.” “Civilized coming from a dragon… that’s certainly an oxymoron,” a voice said behind me.

“I thought you were going to get rid of him?” Baltic asked as Dr. Kostich strolled up.

Kostya sank into his chair, banging his head gently on the table a couple of times.

I narrowed my eyes at my former employer. “I did. I called him a taxi and saw him get into it.” “I decided it would be wiser for me to remain here, where I can keep an eye on you and the hefty wyvern until the watch comes to detain you both,” he said, looking over the buffet table. “Does that herbed goat cheese have garlic in it? I’m allergic to garlic.” “I give up,” Kostya told Cyrene. “I can’t fight herbed goat cheese and champagne.” “It’s very good herbed goat cheese,” she said, offering him a bite.

“Mate!” Baltic said, his hands on his hips, clearly expecting me to do something.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked. “He’s an archimage!” “A fact neither of you seems to give its due respect,” Dr. Kostich said, somewhat garbled since he’d just stuffed a mini cherry scone into his mouth.

“He’s placed an interdict on me. You’ve seen how it makes my magic go awry — I couldn’t make him vanish, even if I had that sort of power.” “You never were much of an apprentice, although I will admit you tried,” he said, taking a loaded plate to a free chair at the table.

“Not to mention the fact that he’s the head of the L’au-dela,” I finished.

“Is he supposed to sit with us? I thought this was just for wyverns and their mates,” Cyrene asked Kostya, frowning at the archimage.

Dr. Kostich ignored her. “Hence the fact that the watch is, at this very moment, speeding its way here to arrest you.” “What does it matter?” Kostya answered, his features set in a pout. “No one is listening to me. No one cares about anything but their bellies. No one wants to see justice done. I’m the only one here who is actually concerned about making Baltic pay for his heinous crimes — are those crab and papaya rice rolls any good?” “Your watch cannot touch us,” Baltic told Kostich, who frowned at him, but was unable to speak due to another mini scone he was eating. “Dragons are not governed by the L’au-dela. He has no authority over us, mate, so you need not fear that his threats are anything more than idle.” “I assure you they’re quite real,” Kostich answered, bits of crumbs flying as he spoke around the mouthful of scone.

“Voulez-vous cesser de ma cracher dessus pendant que vous parlez?” Aisling murmured.

Dr. Kostich, sitting across from her, stared.

“Sorry. I’ve been dying to find a chance to say that,” she said, brushing the crumbs from in front of her plate. “Rene will be so proud.” “That’s right,” I said slowly, thinking about what Baltic said. “Dragons aren’t part of the L’au-dela.” “Dragons aren’t, no,” Dr. Kostich said, taking the glass I’d set down for Baltic, sipping the champagne with a thoughtful look. “Quite a decent vintage. My compliments. As I was saying, your chubby mate is right — I have no authority over dragons. However, I do over humans, and you, my ex-apprentice, are close enough to human to count as one. It is true that I would have a hard time punishing him, but you are a very different matter, and since I can’t have the one who perpetrated the crimes against me, I will take the next best thing: you.” “Just once I’d like to be charged with something that I’ve done,” I said. “What do you think you’re going to do to me?” “I’ve already told you — banishment to the Akasha.” A horrible feeling gripped me in cold, clammy hands. Banishment to the Akasha was no laughing matter — the place the mortal world thought of as limbo was not one which many beings ever escaped. “You can’t do that,” I protested.

“I can, and I will.”

“Baltic?” I asked, turning to him, suddenly worried. “What will happen to Brom and you? I don’t want to go to the Akasha.” “You won’t, chérie. I would never allow it. This mage is blowing hot air, nothing more.” Dr. Kostich glanced at his wrist. “The question will become moot in less than an hour when the watch arrives to take Tully away.” “Touch her, and you will die,” Baltic said simply.

Kostich pointed a fork at him. “It’s that sort of attitude that has kept the dragons and the L’au-dela at loggerheads for centuries. Even your ambassador was arrogant and impossible to deal with.” “Ambassador?” Aisling asked Drake. “We have an ambassador with the L’au-dela?” “Fiat,” he answered, his eyes bright as he watched us.

“That was the former ambassador. We received notice he was excommunicated, or whatever it is you dragons do, and removed from the post. We are awaiting the appointment of a new ambassador, to whom I will certainly lodge detailed complaints about my treatment at the hands of that behemoth.” “Archimage or no archimage,” I said through gritted teeth, “knock off the references to Baltic being large. It’s only his dragon form that’s big.” “You know,” May said slowly, looking distracted, “something has just occurred to me. Ambassadors have diplomatic immunity, don’t they?” Lightbulbs seemed to go off in many heads at that moment. I looked thoughtfully at May.

“Yees,” Aisling drawled. “What a good idea. The weyr needs an ambassador, and Ysolde needs protection from Dr. Kostich.” The latter glared over the table at her as he helped himself to more champagne.

“If Ysolde was ambassador, he couldn’t touch her, and voila! Two problems solved at once. What a perfect solution.” “No, it isn’t,” Kostya said, in the process of consuming a mound of food piled high on his plate.

“Oh, stop being so obstinate,” Aisling told him. “We know you don’t like Baltic, but Ysolde hasn’t done anything wrong. There’s no reason she couldn’t be the ambassador for the weyr. She certainly will do a better job of it than Fiat.” “She’s not a member of the weyr,” Kostya pointed out.

“I’m not?” I asked, feeling somewhat adrift, both conversationally and emotionally. “I thought I was a silver dragon.” “You were silver, then black, but now you are neither, and as such, you are not a member of the weyr,” Drake agreed with his brother.

“There’s an easy solution to that,” May said.

Everyone turned to look at her.

“Baltic’s sept will have to join the weyr.” Kostya snorted. “That would never happen. The weyr would not tolerate the blight dragons.” “Light,” Baltic snarled, starting toward him. “We are light dragons. You are the blight.” Kostya leaped up, his hands fisted.

“Oh, lord, there they go again,” Aisling commented to the table. “And I thought it was bad with Kostya and Gabriel. You’d better get your bananas ready, Ysolde.” “No,” I said.

“No?” May asked, watching as Baltic and Kostya both turned surprised gazes upon me.

“No. If they are so hell-bent on fighting, they can fight.” Kostya smiled. Baltic shifted into dragon form.

“Definitely overweight,” Kostich said, eating a bacon-wrapped scallop.

“But in human form,” I told the two dragons. “And with no weapons. Just fists.” A little puff of smoke escaped Baltic, but after a moment’s thought, he shifted back to human form, eyeing Kostya. “Fisticuffs, eh? It’s been several centuries since I’ve had that pleasure.” Kostya tossed off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. “The pleasure is going to be all mine, Baltic.” “Over there, not here,” I said, pointing to the other side of the pasture that was mostly dirt. “I don’t want any more of this crystal broken. You can have five minutes to beat the living daylights out of each other, and after that, you have to behave in a polite, decent manner. Do you both agree to the terms?” Kostya’s gaze was shifty. “Define decent.” “No more leaping up at every little thing you perceive as an insult. I’m tired of you two being at each other’s throats, and I imagine everyone else is tired of it, too.” The women nodded. The men avoided meeting my eyes.

“You wouldn’t mind if their sept was in the weyr, would you?” Aisling asked Drake as Baltic and Kostya moved off about sixty feet, Bastian and Jian going with them, whether to referee or to cheer Kostya on, I had no idea.

“It’s not quite that simple,” Drake said. “There are rules to admitting a sept. I’m not even sure that Baltic actually has one.” “But if he did, they could join, and then Ysolde could be ambassador, and Dr. Kostich could—” Aisling bit off what she was going to say as the mage looked at her.

Baltic, with a yell, flung himself at Kostya, who answered by twisting to the side and landing a nasty kick on Baltic’s thigh.

“Could what?” Kostich asked, his pale eyes intense.

“Leave us alone?” she asked sweetly.

Dust rose from the field where the two men were now circling each other, periodically lashing out with arms and legs.

Kostich made a derisive noise. “I have never sought anything from dragons other than the sword that rightfully belongs amongst mages, a fact you should well know, Guardian.” “There is no place in the weyr for a sept that slaughters members of another in times of peace,” Gabriel said, watching interestedly as Kostya head butted Baltic, who roared in outrage. The two men went down in a cloud of dust.

“Baltic didn’t kill those blue dragons.” “So you say.” Gabriel’s silver gaze switched to me. “But we have only your word to that effect. It is hardly enough for the weyr to dismiss the charges.” “If you are going to go through that argument again, I shall go watch the combatants. I believe a little spell increasing the black dragon’s speed is in order… ” Dr. Kostich rose from the table, tossed down his napkin, and strolled off toward the fight.

My chin went up as I addressed Gabriel. “I see now why Baltic has been so resistant to meeting with you. Your mind is already made up.” Silence fell… silence tinged with the grunts and muffled cries from the two men who were once again on their feet, dirty, sweaty, and dabbed with blotches of crimson.

“He had to have done it. He was working with Fiat,” Gabriel said, sounding as if he was trying to convince himself.

“So were you, from what Jim told me,” I countered, my ire starting to rise.

Gabriel looked startled. “I am not conspiring with Fiat!” “Not now, but you have. Or did Jim lie when it told me that you helped Fiat poison Aisling and take her as his mate?” The silence fell again.

“You bloody bastard! I just had that set!” Baltic yelled in an outraged voice, grabbing Kostya by the throat and flinging him a few yards. “That’s it! If I’m going to have a crooked nose, you’re going to have one as well!” Both men disappeared again into the gently swirling cloud of dust.

“Oh, dear, I hope not. I like Kostie’s nose the way it is,” Cyrene said, not even looking at the two combatants.

“Well?” I asked Gabriel, who appeared very uncomfortable.

“She’s got a point, you know,” Aisling said. “You were working with Fiat then.” “I was trying to stop him from doing worse than he did!” “My point is merely that it’s possible that Baltic could have helped Fiat obtain one goal, but wasn’t wholly in accord with his plans. Which is what he did.” “It comes down to proof,” Drake said slowly. “You have none that he is innocent of the crimes, and we have witnesses that say he was with Fiat in France during the time of the killings.” I looked at them all sitting around the table, so frustrated with everything that I could scream. How could they not see that Baltic was innocent? How could they believe he could ruthlessly kill so many dragons? “Let me ask you this, Drake: have you ever known Baltic to kill dragons in cold blood?” “He has killed many dragons, of all septs,” Drake said, avoiding the question.

“This is a waste of time,” I said, disgusted. I knew then that we would never get the wyverns to understand that Baltic was innocent.

“I am afraid continued arguments would be fruitless, yes,” Drake said.

I looked down at my hands for a few moments, my fingers clasped so tightly together that they were white. “Baltic will not allow himself to be martyred, nor will I.” “You leave us no options,” Gabriel warned.

“You must understand that if Baltic refuses to answer for the charges laid against him, there will exist between us a state of war,” Drake said.

“No,” Aisling said, her face pinched. “Not another war?” War. The word reverberated in my heart, tearing off little pieces of it. War again. With war came death and destruction, and suffering that would know no end.

“Not again,” I whispered.

“What war?” Cyrene asked, looking confused.

I wanted to explode into a million pieces and drift away on the wind. I wanted to go to sleep and not wake up. I wanted to hide in Baltic’s lovely house that made my soul sing, and never leave it.

I wanted Baltic.

“The war between Baltic’s sept and the weyr,” May said sadly.

“They’ve declared war?”

“You’ve declared it on us,” I answered.

“You do not have to tread this path,” Drake said, his eyes dark.

“You won’t allow us to do otherwise.” “A war is not to be undertaken lightly,” he said, taking Aisling’s hand. “It affects everyone in the sept. Those who are at war are considered viable targets for attack.” A cold chill swept over me, piercing me with fear greater than any I had ever known. “Brom,” I whispered, a horrible vision in my head of him being used as a hostage. Or worse.

“We do not attack children,” Drake said stiffly, ire flashing in his eyes. “Mates, however, are a different matter.” “Nothing has changed,” I said softly, despair filling me at the knowledge of what lay ahead. “There was a war then, just as there will be now. There was death and pride and the refusal to admit a lost cause then, and it’s all being repeated. I know how it will end, and I will not allow that, not again.” “There has to be something we can do,” Aisling said to Drake.

He shook his head.

I looked up, tears bright in my eyes as I stepped first on the chair, then onto the center of the table. “I won’t have it!” I shouted, opening my arms up wide. “If you won’t end this now, then I will!” “What’s she doing?” Cyrene asked as Drake leaped to his feet, grabbing Aisling and pulling her back away from the table.

I closed my eyes, allowing Baltic’s fire to swell within me, growing in intensity, building the familiar sensation of pressure as I summoned the words that would send them all far away from me.

“Kostya?” Cyrene said worriedly as she started to back away from the table.

“Run, little bird,” Gabriel told May as he hauled her to her feet, giving her a shove toward the house.

“What’s going on?” Aisling asked as Drake, having difficulty in making her follow him, bent down and scooped her up. “Drake! What do you think you’re doing?” The air around me rippled, gathering in a circle with me at its center, the power swelling inside me as I shaped it, visualizing the only possibility left to me. “Taken with sorrow,” I cried, allowing the fire to consume every iota of my being as I used it to cast my spell.

“I thought she was under an interdict?” May asked Gabriel as he told her again to run.

“Kostya?” Cyrene asked again, her voice more strident. “Kostya!” “All I cast from me,” I said, my voice ringing like the purest bell. It must have reached Baltic, because suddenly he stopped pummeling Kostya and turned to face me.

Kostya tackled him, but Baltic simply flung him to the side as he started toward me, Dr. Kostich on his heels.

“Is she casting a spell? It sounds like a spell,” Aisling said.

“Devoured with rage,” I bellowed, the fire beginning to flicker along my skin as I raised my face to the sky, my heart sick with knowledge that nothing would ever be right.

Dr. Kostich ran toward me, flinging away his glass. “Stop her! That’s a banishing spell! You must stop her!” “A banishing spell? Mages can’t send people to the Akasha,” Cyrene called to him. “Can they?” “No, but she can remove us from this location. Just stop her!” he shouted.

“But her spells don’t work,” Cyrene said, turning back toward me.

Baltic sprinted past Dr. Kostich, reaching me just as I released his fire, channeled into the vision of what I wanted most. “Banished so you will be!” For a moment, nothing happened. It was as if the world held its breath to see what effect the interdict would have on the spell. Baltic skidded to a stop next to me, his eyes shaded like dark pools of water glinting in the sunlight, and then suddenly, the air shimmered again, thickening, twisting, morphing itself into the shape of a dragon.

“The First Dragon,” I heard May gasp.

Heat shimmered on my skin like electricity, crawling up and down my arms and back as the dragon looked first to May, then to me, his eyes filled with infinity. Like Baltic, he was white, but more than white — all colors seemed to dance in harmony, illuminating the dragon, a soft glow wrapped around him that shifted and moved.

Baltic leaped up to stand behind me, his body warm and strong and so infinitely precious, tears burned behind my eyes. The First Dragon looked at him and smiled, shifting into a human form, that of a man… and yet, it wasn’t a man. Not even his human form could hide the fact that he was a dragon.

Around us, the other dragons stood frozen, staring at him, their expressions ranging from stunned disbelief to outright awe. I knew just how they felt.

“Why did you call me, Baltic?” the First Dragon asked, his voice as strong as the wind, but softer than the lightest down.

“It was my mate who summoned you, not me,” he answered, his arms sliding around me protectively.

“I… I didn’t know I was going to do that. I meant to do something else.” I was so shocked by what I had done that it was almost impossible to speak.

The First Dragon’s eyes, those uncanny, all-knowing eyes, turned from Baltic to me. I felt the impact of his gaze right down to the tips of my toes. He reached toward me, touching my forehead.

“Remember.” The word seemed to echo in and around me, a haze coming up over me that was like nothing I’d experienced before in either a fugue or the visions that I’d had of the past.

The haze turned white, whipping around me with an icy bite. Once again I stood on a snowy hillside, a blizzard raging around me.

But this time, the others were present as well. It was as if the First Dragon had simply lifted up everyone standing in the field and placed us in a different time and place. We stood in a circle around two forms, one fallen, scarlet still staining the snow at the First Dragon’s feet.

“A life has been given for yours, daughter,” the First Dragon said.

My dead form shifted, then slowly stood up, whole again, my eyes vacant and unseeing. “Who gave it?” the other Ysolde asked.

“It was given willingly.”

“Baltic? Did he—”

“Much is expected of you.” The First Dragon’s words were whipped away on the wind as soon as he spoke them, and yet they resonated within me. “Do not fail me again.” As the last word faded on the howl of snow and ice and wind, the First Dragon touched the risen Ysolde’s forehead in the same spot he’d touched mine, and she collapsed onto the ground — but she wasn’t dead. She hunched over, sobbing, buffeted by the snow before finally getting back to her feet, staggering down the hill and into the white oblivion.