The Unbearable Lightness of Dragons

Chapter Eleven

“Akashic League of Great Britain. How may I direct your call?”

“I’d like to book the services of a Summoner, please. One who is familiar with dragons.”

Brom, bearing a shovel and a plastic bag, marched past where I was sitting in the morning sun on the east patio, and disappeared into the shrubbery.

“Er . . .” The woman on the other end of the phone was clearly taken aback by my request. “Dragons?”

“Yes. Do you have someone who can summon a dragon spirit?”

“I . . . I don’t know. I don’t think anyone has ever asked for a Summoner with dragon experience. They aren’t often raised as shades. In fact, I can’t ever think of the time one was. Perhaps it would be best if I transferred you over to booking.”

Brom headed back into the house.

I listened with impatience to the classical music provided by the Akashic League before a male voice greeted me. “Booking.”

“I’d like to engage a Summoner, one with experience with dragons,” I said. “Can you hook me up with one? I’m just outside of London, but I’m willing to go anywhere in Europe to speak with her.”

Brom wandered past with a large bucket, heading for the shrubs again.

“Her?” the man said, suspicion dripping from the word.

“Or him,” I said quickly. “I’m good with either gender, so long as the Summoner has experience with dragon ghosts.”

“Dragon ghosts?” the man repeated, his voice taking on a weary tone. “Madame, you are aware, are you not, that there are several types of spirits?”

“Well . . . not really. I mean, a ghost is a ghost is a ghost, isn’t it?”

“No,” he said firmly. “There are bound and unbound, released and unreleased spirits. There are alastors and alguls, as well as shades, revenants, and liches. A sentient being who is brought forth by a member of the Akashic League may take any one of those forms. How and when did the dragon you referenced die?”

Nico, the green dragon tutor whom Baltic had reluctantly engaged for Brom’s education, smiled at me as he passed by carrying a large covered tray and a small hatchet.

“Oh. Um, I’m not exactly sure.”

The man sighed heavily. “Your chance of success in raising the spirit or entity will depend directly on the amount of information you can give the person assisting you.”

I made a rude face at the phone. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to dig up more information, but really, I think it’s best that I talk directly to the person who will be doing the summoning.”

Pavel, armed with a coil of rope, a small chain saw, and a plate of pastel-colored cupcakes, passed me with a determined look on his face, and disappeared into the yew shrubs.

“Well . . .” The click of keys on a keyboard followed. “As it happens, we do have a Summoner who lists dragons as an area of expertise. Would you like to book her services?”

I agreed, and provided the man with the necessary information, thanking him when he finally parted with the name and phone number I wanted.

“Her services will not be cheap,” the man warned before I hung up. “Nor will she take kindly to a client who wastes her time.”

“Oh, I don’t think we have that to worry about,” I told him, getting up to see just what was going on in the shrubs, all the while planning what I would say to Dr. Kostich.

After admiring the new archaeological dig site (Nico had devised a way to incorporate lessons in history, botany, biology, and a little physical education in a manner that kept Brom’s interest), I returned to the house to call Maura Lo. She didn’t answer her phone, so I left a voice mail saying I was interested in hiring her services for help with a dragon spirit.

“I don’t suppose it is any good asking you to reconsider your plans.”

I looked at the man standing in the doorway, hands on his hips, face set in a disgruntled expression, my stomach doing an excited flip at the sight of him. I wondered if I would ever be able to see him without that little wibble of pleasure. I sure hoped not. “I want this to end, Baltic.”

He shook his head, coming into the sitting room, pulling me into a gentle embrace. “It serves no purpose, mate. The weyr believes only what they wish to believe.”

“Only because they’re too stubborn to see the truth, but we can help them overcome that.”

His sigh ruffled my hair. “I wish that I could understand your desire to be a part of the weyr.”

I snuggled against him, breathing in the wonderful Baltic scent that never failed to leave me a bit giddy. “I wish you could, too. But since you can’t, you’re just going to have to accept that this is important to me. To us. I don’t want Brom or any of our children growing up in the middle of a war.”

A wicked smile curled his lips as he pulled me tighter, grinding my hips against his. “Our time would be better spent working on those children.”

“Tempting, but I think I’d rather have weyr peace first, so you can stop trying to woo me into bed. I’ll just get my things and then I’ll be ready to go. Where’s your girlfriend?”

He stared at me with a slight frown.

“Thala.”

“I cannot decide if your jealousy of her is amusing or irritating,” he said thoughtfully. “Perhaps it is both.”

“I’m not—oh, never mind. Is she here?”

“No.” He looked away, suddenly cagey.

“Where is she?”

“She went to Italy last night after you tempted me away with caramel. My son will not come with us to the meeting with the wyverns. I will not have him put in danger.”

“I didn’t intend for him to come, not that I think there’s any danger. Nico is out with him digging up what Brom insists is an ancient peat bog. He’s hoping for Viking treasure, so I don’t think we would be able to get him away even if we wanted him to come with us.”

“Good. He would not be safe.”

“Don’t be silly,” I said, going out to change into something more suited to the dignity of a meeting with wyverns. I was upstairs, in the middle of donning a white lace jacquard coat dress, white lace stockings, and the engraved silver love token that Baltic had made me some five hundred years earlier, when I realized that once again he had adroitly distracted me from asking him a question I suspected he didn’t want me to ask.

“You’d think he’d learn by now,” I said to myself as I trotted down the back stairs to check on a lime-garlic marinade I’d whipped up, making sure the chicken was soaking in it before I went out to rout Baltic from wherever he had disappeared.

“There you are. Listen, I know you don’t want to tell me. . . .” I stopped speaking, blinking in astonishment as the love of my life marched down the stairs. He wore a calf-length black topcoat, black pants, and a long black tunic top that shimmered with light as he moved. “By the rood, Baltic! You look absolutely wonderful. Is the shirt beaded?” I peered closely at the tunic.

“Do I look like the sort of a man who wears beaded garments?” he asked, the scorn in his voice counterbalanced by his pleased expression as I marveled over his outfit. “It’s dragonweave. I had some made for you, but it’s in Riga. I’ll have it brought out here, if you like.”

“It’s gorgeous material,” I said, touching the tunic. “It’s like it’s covered in thousands of crystals but there’s nothing there but the fabric, is there?”

“You will make a dress from it to wear in front of other dragons. I hadn’t thought we would have need of it, but I see I was wrong.”

“Wow. It’s just . . . and you look . . . I could pounce on you,” I said, circling him.

“I am happy to spend the time making love to you instead of meeting with the wyverns,” he offered politely.

I laughed, gave him a quick kiss, then took his hand and tugged him toward the door. “Nice try. That outfit almost did it, too, but it’s more important that we take care of this. Oh, Pavel. I didn’t know you were coming with us. I’m glad, though. You can help keep Baltic from losing his temper with everyone.”

Pavel emerged from his room next to the kitchen, clad in black pants and a slightly different black tunic. It, too, was made of dragonweave, but it didn’t appear to have quite such a glittery effect to it. I gathered that only the wyvern got to wear the really flashy version of the cloth, and I spent the next ten minutes in pleasant contemplation of just what sort of a dress I would fashion from the material that Baltic had had made for me.

My second attempt to find out what Thala was doing in Italy was met with a look that I decided I wouldn’t pursue in front of Pavel. Although he might be Baltic’s closest friend, I hesitated to involve him in the discussion when Baltic obviously preferred otherwise. I was content to simply give him a look that let him know the subject wasn’t closed, and then I focused on driving us to the house he had built for me several hundred years before.

“We have to talk to Kostya about giving Dragonwood back to us,” I said as I stopped just shy of the willow and lime crescent that blocked the view of the house from the long drive.

Baltic considered the redbrick Tudor mansion front, nodding at the house with approval. “Next to Dauva, it is the best of our homes.”

I sighed as I gazed at it. It was utterly perfect, everything about it meant to please, from the location on the top of a gentle hill, to the center square tower, to the beautiful mullioned windows and stone quoins, all the way up to the parapets that were etched into the sky. The grounds were just as lovely, with a garden that I had designed myself, a crystal clear pond, and velvety green expanses of lawn that sang a sweet siren song to me.

“Baltic—” I stopped, my throat too tight to continue.

He took my hand and kissed my fingers. “It will be yours again, my love. I swear to you that it will.”

“It wants us back,” I said, my eyes swimming with tears of longing as the essence of the house seemed to wrap itself around me, an essence that was heavily imbued with happy memories of our time spent there. “It needs us.”

Baltic was silent for a moment, then brushed away a tear that escaped my eye, saying softly, “We will get it back.”

I pulled myself together, squelching the pain, reminding myself that there was a long way to go before we could negotiate with Kostya for the return of the house. “Let’s tackle one thing at a time. It’s more important that we end this stupid war.”

“I don’t see why,” Pavel said as we got out of the car. “Brom visits the silver dragons and has a green dragon tutor, and you meet with the mates. . . . Does it really matter if the war continues?”

“Yes, it does. Just because things are amicable now doesn’t mean they won’t go all pear-shaped later, and I want us to be a part of the weyr so we have some protection if that happens.”

Baltic sighed, but took my hand and led me up the stairs, at the top of which stood two large figures.

“Good morning, Maata. Tipene. Are you guys banished to the outside, or are May and Gabriel not here yet?” I asked.

Both of the silver guards greeted me, nodding to Baltic. “It was decided that all guards are to remain outside for your meeting.” Maata looked like she wanted to smile, but she held it back. “We were going to have a stroll around the gardens that you designed. Perhaps Pavel would care to join us?”

“Oh, that sounds wonderful. I hope we’ll have time to join you later. I’d love to see the flowers again. . . .”

Baltic gave me a little shove toward the big double doors.

“Gardens. How delightful,” Pavel answered, looking as if he’d rather have his fingernails yanked out one by one.

“It won’t hurt you,” I told him, laughing as he followed the two silver dragons.

“Come. Let us have this over with,” Baltic said, throwing open one of the doors. I hesitated at the threshold, since the last time I had attempted to cross it, I’d been pulled into the beyond, the shadow world that paralleled our reality, where I had seen Baltic watching a bittersweet vision of our past.

His eyes met mine. I tightened my fingers in his, smiled, and allowed him to see the love in my eyes before I crossed into the house.

“Well, I might have known this would happen,” I said a moment later as a bone-freezing cold seeped into my awareness. The world shifted and lost color, resolving itself into a grey-toned scene that I realized was colorless because the building in which I stood was made of stone and metal. I rubbed my arms and looked with curiosity around what appeared to be a lobby of some sort. “Brr. Where is this, I wonder?”

“I do not know, but I dislike it.”

I spun around to find Baltic directly behind me. “You’re getting into more and more of my visions. I don’t know if that’s good or bad. I think this is the aerie.”

“What aerie?” His eyes were as unreadable as his expression as he looked around and then grimaced. “Ah. The one that belongs to Kostya. End the vision, mate.”

“End it? How am I supposed to do that? What dragons live in Nepal? Red?”

Noise behind me had me considering the figures of three men who emerged from the other side of the lobby.

“No,” Baltic said, grabbing me and pulling me backward, as if he feared we’d be seen.

“They can’t see us,” I said, escaping his hold, curious now as to who the dragons were. I stepped into the lobby, pausing when a fourth man walked straight through Baltic toward the group.

“Is it done?” the fourth man asked the others.

One of the three nodded. “Aye. We have control of the aerie.”

“Kostya?”

“Locked in a storage room until his cell is readied.”

“Good. I’ll pass that on to the chief.”

“We’re right—this is where Kostya went after the destruction of Dauva,” I said to Baltic. “I remember Aisling saying something about him being held prisoner. But who are those dragons? What sept do they belong to?”

“None. They are ouroboros. Come, mate, we have tarried too long. The wyverns are waiting for us.”

The word “ouroboros” rang in my head like a bell. “I really want to see this, Baltic. I think it’s important somehow.”

“It is not.”

“How do you know that?” A sudden horrible thought occurred to me. “By the saints! Are these your dragons? Was it you who had Kostya imprisoned? It was, wasn’t it? You couldn’t kill him outright because of your past relationship, but you wanted him out of the way, so you had him locked up in his own hidey-hole?”

“I am not responsible for this, no,” he said, his lips thinning.

I avoided his hold and moved closer to the group of dragons. “Then you know who did.”

“—how long we’ll have to stay here?” one of the men was asking the obvious leader. “It’s bloody cold.”

“We’ll stay as long as we have to. You might as well see if there’s any food. The chief will be here at any moment, and I’d like to be able to tell her that all is taken care of.”

“Her? Her who?” I asked no one in particular.

Baltic looked bored and didn’t answer.

“Still say it’s wrong to let her call the shots,” one of the three dragons said in a languid Southern U.S. drawl. “Not like she’s even really one of us.”

“Don’t be such a snob. Her father was high up in the sept, and is said to have had the ear of the wyvern.”

The man snorted. “Red dragons. All they want is to war.”

“Which works to our benefit,” the leader said, cocking his head as if he was listening to something.

“Who are they talking about?” I asked Baltic, a suspicion arising that I hesitated to name.

His expression was shuttered. “Do you wish to stand here all day, or do you want for us to speak with the wyverns?”

“Typical nonanswer, dragon. Who—oh!”

A man appeared out of nothing, seemingly walking through the wall straight into the gathering. I gawked at him, taking in clothing that appeared to be from the turn of the twentieth century, as well as his less than solid form.

“Is that a ghost?” I asked Baltic in a whisper as the figure drifted over to the group.

He sighed. “Mate, we must leave now.”

“Is it?”

“Of a form. It is a shade. Your time is up, Ysolde. End this vision.”

“My mistress comes,” the ghostly man informed the others, and over the howl of the wind beating against the stone of the building, I could hear the growing sound of a helicopter approaching.

“I am leaving now,” Baltic informed me, dropping my hand, which he had grabbed in a futile attempt to pull me away with him. “Either come with me or do not, but do not expect me to agree to another meeting with the wyverns.”

“Just a second, I want to see—Baltic!” I started after him as he strode away into the dimness of a corridor that led off from the lobby. I glanced over my shoulder and said, “I want to see who’s arriving. You know, don’t you? You know who was behind Kostya’s capture? And who these dragons are?”

“They are ouroboros,” he repeated, pausing to let me catch up to him.

“I wonder if they’re the same group as the one I’m looking for.”

“You are not to look for ouroboros dragons,” he informed me in a haughty tone that he had to know would just irritate me.

“Oh, I’m not? And why is that?”

“They are lawless murderers, dangerous, and without any regard for life, be it that of dragons or mortals. They are the single biggest danger to the mortals you care so much about.” He opened a thick metal door and shoved me outside into a sunny but windy snowscape. Immediately the world shifted, and I found myself strolling into the dim coolness of a house that wrapped me in such a familiar embrace, I wanted to sink to my knees and cry with the injustices of life.

“There you are. I was about to go look in the shadow world for you. Is everything all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Ysolde.”

“I have.” I blinked a few times to clear my still-fuzzy vision, it finally resolving itself into the sight of May’s concerned face peering at me. “I’m sorry. We were sucked into a vision in . . .”

The words trailed away at the sight of Kostya emerging from a side room.

“I’ll tell you later,” I finished in an undertone.

May’s eyebrows rose as Gabriel, who had been using his cell phone, hung up and strolled over to us. “Drake and Aisling have been detained, but they are only a few minutes away. Greetings, Ysolde.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Baltic.”

“I’m sorry, it seems this house is just vision-central for me,” I said, smiling at Gabriel. “Thank you for coming. I’m sure you have better things to do with your time, but we appreciate it. Don’t we, Baltic?”

“Not in the least,” he said pleasantly, but I could tell his hackles were up by the way he watched Kostya.

Gabriel relaxed at that, his dimples showing as he wrapped an arm around May. “It is good to know that you are running true to form, Baltic. I wouldn’t know what to think should you be anything but hostile and surly.”

“You are welcome to my house, Ysolde,” Kostya said, his intentions clear as he greeted me, taking my hands in his and kissing them before turning to Baltic. “I wish I could say the same for your mate.”

“Sins of the saints, Kostya,” I said, socking him on the arm. “Do you have to bait Baltic every time?”

“No, but it relieves my spleen if I do.”

I glared at him until he snapped. “Very well. Your mate is welcome here as well.”

I smiled and put a restraining hand on Baltic’s arm, which was tense, as if his muscles were poised for attack. “Thank you. We appreciate it, despite the fact that this is really our house.”

“Is it?” He gave a little smirk. “I believe it is held by the wyvern of the black dragons, and that is me.”

“Only so long as I allow you to remain so,” Baltic growled.

Kostya’s eyes narrowed, a little smoke emerging from his nose. “Do you wish to challenge me for the sept?”

“I do not need to. If I wanted it, I would take it,” Baltic answered.

“Oh, lord, please tell me I don’t have to let you two boys break each other’s noses again,” I said, sighing heavily.

Both men turned identical glares on me. “Boys!” Kostya snorted. “We are wyverns!”

“That may be, but you’re acting like twits dancing around each other with your hackles up.”

“Twit!” Baltic repeated, outraged.

“Hackles! We do not have hackles!” Kostya said, just as outraged. “Dogs have hackles. Dragons do not!”

“Then stop acting like you do,” I told him with a look that I reserve for Brom at his most fractious. I turned to Baltic, giving his arm another squeeze. “And you can cease muttering rude things under your breath. We can all hear them, and even though they’re in Zilant, I can tell what it is you’re saying.”

He shot me another outraged look, but stopped swearing to himself.

Kostya’s expression turned martyred. “You are far too outspoken for your own good, Ysolde, but it does not surprise me. It will be a cold day in Abaddon before I ever meet a mate who displays the respect proper to wyverns.”

I looked at Baltic, expecting him to take offense at Kostya’s speaking to me that way, but he said nothing, just glared. I threw my own good intentions to the wind. “Are you going to let him get away with that?”

“With speaking the truth?” He shrugged. “I have not seen the red wyvern’s mate in centuries, but from what I remember of him, he was the only mate who knew how to behave.”

“And speaking of errant mates, where’s Cyrene?” May cut in as I was about to argue the point with Baltic.

Kostya, who had been matching Baltic’s glare with one of his own, transferred it to May. “That is a very good question. You would have to ask her that for an answer, however, since she has apparently left.”

“Left? Left for where?” May asked, not looking at all surprised.

“I am evidently not to be privy to such information. She simply hurled all sorts of insults at me, packed up her things—and several that weren’t hers—and stormed out of here promising all sorts of watery vengeance if I tried, and these are her words, to follow her, woo her back to my arms in order to have my lustful way with her pristine body, or notify you that she had abandoned me for a god who evidently knows how to treat a naiad. Despite that, consider yourself duly notified.”

“Oh, no, she hasn’t . . . not Neptune?” May asked, groaning. “A god who knows how to treat her? He took her stream away from her until she made me help get it back. She’s absolutely . . . I’m sorry, Kostya, I really am. There’s no excuse for what she’s done to you.”

“She said she loved me! She made me name her as mate in front of the weyr!”

“I know, and I’m sorry.” May put an arm around Kostya and gave him a little hug. “She swore that this time it was different, and I believed her. I thought she really was going to stay in love with you.”

His martyred look returned. “I should have known she was trouble. She was always demanding I let her meddle in sept business. I told her no, that was not the bailiwick of a mate, but she would not listen. My mother said it would come to a bad end, but I didn’t listen to her.”

“Yes, well, Catalina isn’t who I’d really go to for relationship advice,” May said with a little smile as she returned to Gabriel’s side. “Is she still dating Magoth?”

“No, thank god.” Kostya’s shoulders slumped in a manner that indicated a morose sort of pleasure. “Your former demon lord dumped her for some Hollywood starlet. Mother is currently living with a trio of bodybuilders in Rio, and only comes to plague us when she remembers that Drake has children.”

“She sounds like a delightful person,” I said dryly. Baltic looked bored, glancing at his watch. I estimated I had about ten minutes before he would demand we either get to business or leave. “Perhaps we could get started without Drake and Aisling?”

“I would prefer that we wait, but since your mate appears to be anxious to leave, I’m agreeable to begin the discussion. Kostya?”

“We might as well. No good will come of it whether we do it now or later,” he said with dark foreboding, gesturing toward a door.

I looked at the door, glanced at Baltic, and spun on my heel to march in the opposite direction, throwing open the double doors that led to a room filled with tall, glass-fronted floor-to-ceiling bookcases, warmed by amber pools of sunlight that poured in through the mullioned windows. “Our library.” I sighed with happiness. The furniture wasn’t, of course, the same as I remembered, but the way the light streamed in through the windows, the peculiar quality of it as it filled the room, swamped me with the sweetest of memories.

“My library now, I believe,” Kostya said with unnecessary emphasis on the pronoun. “I will allow the meeting to be held here, since you seem to desire it.” His gaze shifted to Baltic. “It is a courtesy I am happy to extend to you, Ysolde, despite the fact that you and your murderous mate are at war with the weyr.”

“Oh, for the love of the virgin . . . will you please stop trying to bait Baltic?” I snapped, tired of all the posturing the wyverns felt it necessary to adopt. “He’s not so uncontrolled that he’s going to fall for that.”

Baltic lunged forward so fast he was just a blur. The resounding thud of the two men going down in the middle of the hardwood floor, accompanied by the tinkle of a couple of glass knickknacks sent flying as they crashed into two occasional tables, left me with the intense desire to do a little smiting, but I managed to hold on to my temper.

“You make it very difficult to convince everyone that you’re not the barbarian they call you,” I told Baltic as he punched Kostya in the face while trying to throttle him with his other hand.

Kostya shifted into dragon form, Baltic following suit.

Another occasional table, this one a pretty octagonal inlaid with rosewood, slammed into the wall. “No dragon form!” I yelled, looking with dismay at the remains of the table. “Human form only, and if you break anything nice, I’ll have more than a few things to say to both of you.”

“You’re going to let them fight?” May asked, jumping aside when both men, now back in human form, rolled around beating the tar out of each other. “Is that wise? Mightn’t things get out of hand?”

“I don’t think so. I figure it’ll clear the air a bit.”

May looked like she was going to say something, but to my surprise, Gabriel spoke first. “I’m sorry, Mayling. I would like to say I’m above such things, but the opportunity is one I really don’t wish to miss.”

After a moment of surprise, she gave him a lopsided smile and gestured toward the combatants. “If you really must.”

“I must,” he said, giving her a swift kiss before flinging himself into the fray. May and I moved over to the door, out of the way of the whirlwind of three men who were accompanied by oaths, snarls, grunts of pain, and language that would make a sailor blush.

“I’ve never seen the dragons come to physical blows so much as when Baltic is around,” May commented, wincing in sympathy when Baltic, overjoyed that Gabriel was now on his list of people to beat up, landed a solid right to Gabriel’s jaw.

“He’s a very primal sort of dragon,” I said, watching dispassionately but cheering to myself when Kostya crashed to the floor with a fine spray of blood. “No ganging up on Baltic, now, boys,” I told them sharply when it looked like Kostya and Gabriel, who had a history of animosity, had decided to forge a truce in order to tromp Baltic.

“What on earth . . . are they fighting again?”

May and I turned as the doors behind us were opened. Aisling and Drake stood staring in amazement.

“They seem to like it,” I told her. “I suppose it releases pent-up emotions. Now that you’re here, I’ll stop them.”

“Not yet,” Drake said, peeling off his jacket and handing it to Aisling, his green eyes glinting like a cat’s.

We all watched with utter astonishment as Drake, with a battle cry that would have done a warrior proud, leaped over the couch and launched himself onto Baltic’s back.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake . . . have you ever met such pigheaded men?” Aisling asked, her hands on her hips. “Ouch. That’s got to sting. Oh, now there’s blood on Drake’s pretty shirt. Our housekeeper will have my head for that.”

“You have to admit, there’s something—oh, good one, Baltic!—strangely attractive about men fighting each other in this manner. Hey! I said no ganging up on Baltic! I see that, Drake and Kostya! If you boys can’t fight fairly, you can just sit in the hallway!”

Aisling giggled. “You’re probably the only person in the world who can get away with saying that, Ysolde. Well, ladies, it looks like the menfolk are busy with their show of masculinity. Shall we move to an atmosphere that’s a little less testosterone filled?”

I cast an assessing glance at the battle. Baltic’s left eye was swelling shut, and blood dripped out of his nose, but he looked in fine fettle nonetheless. The other three wyverns all seemed to fare similarly, and to my surprise, they all seemed to realize that there were limits to their fighting, and no one attempted to use weapons, makeshift or otherwise, but confined themselves to their fists.

“I don’t see why not. I suppose when they get tired of beating each other up, they’ll come to find us and have their injuries tended. Let us go to the solar.”

I led the way up the stairs to a room that sat above the library, designed so that it, too, caught the afternoon sunlight. It was furnished now in an atrocious manner, but I did my best to ignore the hideous bloated tea roses that adorned all the furniture, imagining how beautiful the room could be given the chance.

We chatted for a few minutes about commonplace things, May explaining to Aisling what had happened to her twin.

“Oh, man. Cyrene’s given him the brush-off?” Aisling shook her head. “He’s going to be hell to live with.”

“I’d like to say that it’s just a phase, but . . . well, you know Cy. She’s always been fickle when it comes to matters of the heart,” May answered.

“The question is . . .” Aisling paused in thought. “What impact is that going to have on the weyr?”

“What do you mean? Why would there be an impact?” I asked.

“This was before you were awake, Ysolde—or rather, before you went into your fugue—but Kostya named Cyrene as his mate in front of the weyr.”

“That’s what he said. I don’t see what the problem is. Can’t he just unname her?”

“I don’t think so, no. Dragons mate for life, you see. All but reeve dragons, but those are few and far between.” She must have seen my look of confusion because she continued. “Reeves are special dragons. They have an unusually pure bloodline, and they are the only ones who can mate more than once. That is, if they have a mate and she or he dies, the dragon continues to live and can take another mate. Drake’s grandmother was a reeve. She had two mates, one a black dragon and one a green dragon. That’s why Drake is a green dragon, and Kostya is black. But we were talking about Cyrene.”

“There must be some sort of policy for the unnaming of a mate,” May said.

“I don’t think so. Drake has never mentioned anything of the sort, and I think he would have when Kostya named Cyrene as one.” She sat in a horribly overstuffed chair while May and I took an adjacent love seat. “I don’t think the situation has ever come up before, which means there may be some trouble at the weyr when all the mates are present.”

“Why would that be? Mates don’t do much, do they?” I asked, thinking back to the sárkány I’d witnessed a few months before. “Aren’t you just there as support?”

“Yes, but it’s vital support. Mates are excused from weyr functions for only very limited reasons—childbirth being one of them, and illness or physical inability to attend another. Mates can also attend a sárkány in place of the wyvern.”

May’s eyes widened.

“Exactly,” Aisling said, nodding. “Can you imagine what would happen if something kept Kostya away from a sárkány, and Cyrene had the right to take his place?”

“Agathos daimon,” May muttered, running a hand over her eyes. “I don’t even want to—”

She was cut off as the door was flung open. Baltic stood in the doorway, blood dripping from his nose and eyebrow.

“Mate! You left me!”

“Of course we left,” I said calmly, quickly eyeing him for signs of injuries. He seemed to be favoring his left side, in addition to his other hurts. “You were all acting like idiots. You didn’t honestly expect us to stand there and watch you beat each other up, did you?”

“A proper mate knows that her place is at her wyvern’s side,” Drake said, pushing past Baltic into the room. He limped slightly, and appeared to be missing a tooth.

Aisling tsked and hurried over to him, wiping at the blood on his mouth.

May raised her eyebrows as Gabriel, also limping, followed Drake, a little groan escaping him when he sat in the spot I vacated. “ ‘Physician, heal thyself’ has a particularly fitting ring to it right now, but I suppose you don’t want to hear that, do you?”

“No,” he said, wincing as he flexed the fingers of one hand.

Kostya staggered in last, striking a pose at the door that lasted for three seconds before he crumpled and collapsed.

I looked at Baltic again. “I imagine you’re proud of yourself.”

“I have nothing to be ashamed of, if that is what you are implying.” He nodded to where both Aisling and May (who had evidently given in to Gabriel’s pathetic appearance) were murmuring softly as they tended their men. “Aren’t you going to cosset me as the other mates are doing?”

“I don’t think you deserve any cosseting, since it was you who started the whole thing by jumping Kostya.”

A groan came from the direction of the floor. “It was completely his fault. He’s wholly to blame for everything. Oh, god, I think I’m going to puke.”

Baltic looked at me out of his one good eye, the sadness in it sufficient that I pulled out a tissue and dabbed gently at the blood from his nose. “Sit down,” I said, pushing him into the overstuffed chair Aisling had been sitting in.

“Careful,” he warned, easing himself into the seat. “A couple of my ribs are broken.”

“They are?” I whirled around, suddenly furious. “All right, which one of you broke Baltic’s ribs?”

Drake and Gabriel pointed to the floor.

“He dislocated my shoulder and broke my collarbone, if that makes you feel any better,” Kostya said in a pained voice.

“Tough noogies. You and I are going to have a little talk later on, Konstantin Fekete,” I said, glaring at him.

“If I survive, you’re welcome to try,” he said in between groans.

It took us a few minutes to get everyone patched up and relatively hale, although all four men had to be provided with dragon’s blood, an extremely potent spicy sort of wine that only dragons and their mates could drink, before their regenerative powers kicked in and healed the worst of their hurts.

“Now perhaps we can get down to business and talk about this ridiculous war,” I said after everyone was comfortably situated. “I want to discuss the death of all those blue dragons, and what actual proof you have against Baltic regarding them.”

Drake’s phone buzzed. With a cross between an oath and a groan, he got to his feet and moved stiffly to the far end of the room to take the call.

“The proof was laid before you at the last sárkány,” Gabriel said wearily, sipping carefully from his glass. “Baltic was in the area at the time of the murders. He was seen by one of the survivors. He is known to have been working with Fiat, who we know also had a hand in the murders.”

“Really? Then why haven’t you put a death sentence on his head the way you did mine?” I asked, more than a little riled at the thought of the way the entire weyr had jumped to erroneous conclusions.

“Fiat is . . .” Gabriel glanced across the room at Drake.

“Nutso.” Aisling finished the sentence. “Mad as a hatter, or so Drake and Bastian say. Jim would say he’s cracked, and for once, I agree with it. Drake tried to talk to Fiat last month, but he went off about a woman plotting his downfall, and how she’s arranged to have him killed after using him for her own purposes.”

“Chuan Ren? I can see her wanting him dead after he stole her sept, but how has she used him? He has to be mad if he’s making paranoid claims like that. But perhaps he’s not so far gone that we can’t reason with him. Maybe we should talk to him again,” I suggested. “Maybe someone could get through to the rational part of his mind.”

“That’s doubtful,” Drake said, returning to us with only the slightest hint of a limp.

“You think he’s that mad?” I asked him.

“No.” He stood before Baltic, giving him a long, cold look. “You can’t question Fiat because he’s gone.”

His words dropped like anvils in the silence of the room.

“Dead?” Gabriel asked, his eyes watching Drake carefully.

“No. Disappeared. That was Bastian on the phone. He called to tell me that Fiat has been extricated from his prison.”

“Not again.” Aisling groaned. “What do you bet it was Chuan Ren who nabbed him just so she can poke him full of holes?”

“If she did, there’s more to her than we knew. Chuan Ren is dead. Fiat killed her two hours ago.”

A chill swept over me despite the warmth of the room. We all stared in surprise at Drake, all of us but Baltic, who looked mildly interested.

Drake’s gaze was level on his. “Bastian says Baltic is the one who freed Fiat.”