The Dragon-Queen and the Beast

Isentine watched the dragons land. B’thannan he recognised at once, blotting out half the sky. Some of the others too, some of Queen Jaslyn’s more notable riders. Then half a dozen more that Isentine hadn’t seen before. They came from the south, skimming across the endless dunes of the Sea of Sand. Over the lake that sat at the bottom of the cliff, up past the sweeping curves of ancient Outwatch to the landing fields. The thunder of their wings rattled the air. Isentine’s eyes followed them. He’d been living at Outwatch long enough to see every single dragon that Queen Jaslyn owned be hatched and raised and he knew them all. These belonged to someone else.

Not Sirion either – he knew those dragons too. Someone else. He turned out the guard in case it was someone important, then went back to watching. Even in his tower, he felt the ground quiver when B’thannan crashed to the earth. Out in the cattle paddocks the herd masters would already be rounding up the cattle they wanted to spare. Closer by, he saw his Scales run towards the dragons. He knew them all by name too, every one. They came to Outwatch as apprentices, alchemists in the making. They were the ones who failed, who weren’t quite clever enough or sharp enough or wise enough. Sometimes they were they ones who fell in love with their dragons all on their own, but usually not. Usually they needed a little help to become the devoted servant that was a Scales. Here, drink this. It will help with the Hatchling Disease. And it did. It helped with a lot of other things too. Lately he’d been wondering if he should feed it to his own queen. Treason for the greater good. With luck it wouldn’t come to that.

Hyrkallan was approaching. Some who had come with him were taking their time, but Hyrkallan was almost at a run, striding across the fields, his loyal riders at his heels. Isentine levered himself out of his seat high on the balcony of Outwatch tower and tottered down the hundred and twenty steps to the cavernous entrance hall. Its huge emptiness echoed around him. Almost everyone was gone, flown to the eyries in the south of the realm, waiting for war. He emerged from the tower as Hyrkallan reached the doors. Isentine bowed, exactly the right bow for a lord who was an equal. Not a lord who was a king, not yet. Queen Jaslyn had still to consummate her offer.

‘Where is she?’ snapped Hyrkallan. He didn’t bow back. Isentine blinked.

‘Brusque even for you, My Lord,’ Isentine bristled. ‘Yes, all is well. Indeed, my back does continue to trouble me. Etcetera, etcetera. You have a lot of dragons with you, My Lord, and not all of them of our realm. I hope they will not be staying long. We don’t have potions to spare for them. Might I ask who are our guests?’

‘The Speaker of the Realms, or what passes for one, has come to your eyrie to see our queen. The dragons are his and they will be gone soon enough. There’s a company of Adamantine Men come to keep you company too. They will be staying after I am gone, or are you short of food too?’

‘Food we have in abundance.’ Isentine frowned. Someone else’s soldiers in his eyrie was never welcome, whoever sent them. Too many chances for a spot of murder or an outbreak of poisonings. He sighed. ‘They’re not wanted.’

‘Just keep them away from the dragons, old man. So. Where is she?’

Isentine shook his head, a sour taste in his mouth. ‘The Hatchling Disease has taken hold despite the medicines. Her mind wanders. The dragon has her enthralled.’

‘Today we will be wed. Tomorrow we will fly once more to war. She will come with us.’

‘I’ll not let you take her by force.’

Hyrkallan rolled his eyes. ‘Ancestors! You want her away and yet you won’t let me take her? Make your choice, man! Perhaps the bleakness of the news I bring will tear her thoughts away to where they belong. Zafir lives. She flies with the King of the Crags. They have taken Furymouth and reclaimed the Pinnacles. She has Jehal’s queen. The one sister might not have been enough to drag our queen from her folly, but I fancy the other will.’

Isentine’s jaw gaped open. ‘Lystra?’

‘Yes, little Lystra. The pretty one with the big wide eyes who never could see the harm in anyone.’ Hyrkallan’s lip curled. ‘Mere weeks since we flew to war against the Viper and now we fight side by side.’ Now it was Hyrkallan’s turn to taste something sour. ‘Don’t tell me that will not get our queen’s attention. Now go and get her!’

Isentine shook his head. ‘I will bow to you when you are a king, Hyrkallan. For now I must show your guest hospitality. Go and get her yourself. I’ll send a Scales with you to remind you of the way.’

Hyrkallan’s face clouded, but after a second he nodded. ‘If I must.’ He tore a small pouch from his belt and placed it into Isentine’s hand. ‘Maiden’s Regret and plenty of it. You said I should bring some. You know what to do with it.’

‘Not until she says yes to you.’ Isentine shook his head.

Hyrkallan ground his teeth. ‘She already said yes. She promised me.’

‘She is our queen, My Lord. Speaker Jehal approaches. Best you be on your way. Be gentle with her. And beware of that dragon. Call her outside. Do not go in the room with it. Not if you value your life.’

He watched Hyrkallan go and then carefully put the pouch in his pocket. Sometimes he felt sorry for Queen Jaslyn. She was too young and the world was much too big. And then he remembered what she was doing, right under his feet, and he wasn’t so sorry any more. He wasn’t sorry for the man limping across the blasted earth of the landing field towards him either. Jehal, the bastard who’d cost his last queen her birthright and then her life. One of the nice things about being old, he thought, was that he really didn’t have much to lose any more. He could do what he liked, and if anyone wanted to hang him for it, well that was a punishment nature would serve him soon enough anyway.

The drawback of getting old was that he no longer had the strength in his hands to throttle the speaker. A knife would have done the trick, but he didn’t have one of those handy.

So until I do . . .

He fell to his knees as Jehal approached. He kissed the speaker’s feet and struggled to rise again.

‘Having trouble?’ Isentine listened for the mockery in Jehal’s voice but it wasn’t there. Instead the speaker reached out a hand and helped him up. Jehal flashed Isentine an empty grin laced with pain. ‘I know the problem all too well now, you see. Your last queen did that to me. A lesson I could have done without. The first of rather too many.’

‘Your Holiness.’ Isentine met Jehal’s gaze at last. He looked worn out, almost defeated. Broken.

‘Eyrie-Master Isentine.’ Jehal put a hand on each of his shoulders. ‘I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for a very long time. I imagine no one knows more about raising dragons than you. My uncle, I know, was greatly disappointed that you couldn’t come to my wedding.’ The sorrow in the speaker’s face had to be real, didn’t it? But this is the man who ruined our realms.

The eyrie-master bowed again, a little dip from the waist. ‘I live to serve Your Holiness. If there’s anything you would like to see while you are here, I’ll be happy to show you.’ He put on his best smile. ‘Does Your Holiness desire something? We are poorly staffed with so many of our dragons away, but we are not devoid of pleasures. Baths scented with oils, a feast of delicacies from around the realms, men and women who desire nothing more than to serve Your Holiness. You must be tired after your flight . . .’

‘I want my wife back, Eyrie-Master. I want my son. That’s all. I’ve flown from the Adamantine Palace to Sand in a day, and then from Sand to here, and I barely feel it.’ His brow furrowed. ‘No, wait. Now I mention it, I do feel it. I’m tired. Yes. Baths, feasts and so forth. All of that. Whatever you have. And then I’ll take your dragons.’ Jehal gave a bleak chuckle. ‘Are the whores good here? We always had good whores near Clifftop, and the brothels around the Adamantine Palace are the best in the realms. I don’t see any here, though. Cows and fields surrounded by sand that seems to go on for ever that’s all. Where are your women, Eyrie-Master?’

Isentine bowed. ‘Where they belong, Your Holiness. Kept inside out of harm’s way, or else far far away. You’ll find Sand more to your taste, perhaps, but I can send you whatever you desire.’

‘No, you can’t.’ Jehal’s smile snapped to a sneer in the blink of an eye. ‘I desire my queen. Whatever you’ve got will just be a disappointment, but I suppose it’ll have to make do. Send a few whores later. It might amuse me to watch them frolic together. Who knows? If I manage to drink enough to numb how much it hurts, I might even enjoy myself.’

‘I will have my servants show you to your rooms right away. The women will await your pleasure.’

Jehal waved him away. ‘Master Isentine, I jest with you. I have half a dozen riders and my pot boy with me, that’s all. I don’t need your rooms or your women.’ He gestured at the huge emptiness around them. ‘We’re to have a wedding, after all. I dare say we’ll all piss in our pants and pass out where we sit. No, we’ll wait in your halls for your queen to grace us with her presence.’ They walked across the entrance hall, a gloomy cavern of ochre stone that was the lower level of Outwatch. ‘You might have a few men standing by ready to throw blankets over us while we snore, though. I imagine it grows cold here at night. You should do something about this place. Put some windows in. How do you live in such dreary gloom?’ He paced restlessly about. ‘You know, this is probably bigger than the Chamber of Audience in my palace. Perhaps I should move my throne here. I certainly don’t seem to be very welcome anywhere else any more. Actually never mind the men with the blankets. Let the Night Watchman’s soldiers do that. They might as well make themselves useful.’

‘Yes.’ About that . . . ‘I hear you mean them to stay, Your Holiness. It is most unusual.’

‘They’re here for their own reasons, Eyrie-Master. Please don’t imagine that I have any say over their comings and goings, let alone their doings. I am merely the Speaker of the Realms, their lord and master. No, don’t imagine that they answer to me.’

Isentine bowed and nodded and pretended to listen. You deserve your bitterness, he thought. That’s all you ever brought for the rest of us. I hope you choke on it. Servants brought drinks of scented water. The speaker’s riders filed in behind him. They were subdued. Scared even. Before Isentine could eavesdrop on their conversation, though, Hyrkallan was back, and Queen Jaslyn with him. Isentine hadn’t seen his queen for days; she looked terrible. Her face was drawn and haggard. Her eyes didn’t quite focus on him. When he looked, he could see the skin on the back of her hands, on her knuckles, was hard and flaking. Hatchling Disease, despite all his efforts.

She walked straight towards him. Didn’t exactly meet his eyes, but more looked past him, through him, as if she was looking at something from another world that none of the rest of them could see. ‘Morning Sun,’ she said curtly. ‘Have him saddled and ready to ride. Every other dragon here too.’

Isentine bowed as best he could. ‘Yes, Your Holiness. But nearly every dragon is already at Sand or at Southwatch.’ So you’re going then. Almiri didn’t mean enough to drag you away from the horror you’ve created for us, but Lystra does. Good. We’ll have an end to it then.

‘Now. Every dragon I have. All of them. I want them ready to fly. At once.’

He nodded. ‘You mean to fly to war, your Holiness?’ At least she was lucid. There were days now when the potions he gave her to keep the disease at bay left her babbling like a madwoman. On days like that he took care that no one else saw her.

‘I do. Do you have food and drink for these riders?’

‘It is being prepared, Your Holiness.’ Another bow. She hardly noticed.

‘Make sure we have plenty of wine. Get them all drunk. You too. Get me so drunk I can’t stand. I don’t want to remember any of this.’ She snatched a bottle from the nearest table and swallowed deeply. ‘Hyrkallan! My Lord! To me, if you please!’ She cast her eyes wildly around the hall and then back to Isentine. ‘Get the Viper,’ she hissed. ‘Him as well.’

By the time Isentine had found Jehal, already half in his cups, Hyrkallan was standing at Jaslyn’s side. His face was a mask of stone.

‘Marry us,’ snapped Jaslyn.

‘I must call a priest.’

‘Not you.’

Jaslyn pointed a finger at Jehal. ‘You. Marry us. You can do that. Then put a crown on Hyrkallan’s head and call him king.’

Jehal sniffed. He wrinkled his nose. ‘I’m not sure I should. Do you consent to this, My Lord?’ He gave Hyrkallan an arch look. ‘I’m not sure I would advise it. This one looks like she has the makings of a cuckold. You never know; you might yet do better elsewhere.’

Hyrkallan clenched his fists. Isentine wondered, briefly, if he should be looking for that knife again. The only person who seemed unmoved was Jaslyn. She looked at Isentine. With the same stony mask as her mother, he thought. Hiding the same sorrow underneath.

‘You will witness this, Eyrie-Master. You and every rider present.’

Isentine nodded. Jehal raised his eyebrows and then shrugged. ‘Fine, then you’re married. Congratulations.’ He leered at Hyrkallan. ‘If she’s like her sister, go easy on the Maiden if you want any sleep.’

Hyrkallan’s hand shot out and grabbed Jehal by the throat. He squeezed. ‘When we’re done with this, you and I will have a reckoning.’

Jehal choked. ‘There’s a long queue,’ he gasped, ‘and there might not be much left by the time you get to the front of it. Do you want your crown now, King Hyrkallan?’

‘Oh let him go.’ Jaslyn turned away from them both. ‘Is that all? Aren’t you supposed to say more than that?’

Jehal rubbed his throat. ‘Oh, you could do the whole staying up all night for the dawn vigil and then the standing still waiting for the sunlight to strike your face, and then the speeches and the feasting and the endless witterings of the priests and so forth, but really what’s the point? I’ve done all that and I can’t say it had much to recommend it. You’re married. Sorry that I don’t have a present for you. Go fuck and make an heir. And then can we get on? I’m not nearly drunk enough for this and my leg is killing me.’ He hobbled away.

Hyrkallan shook his head. ‘Will your dragons be ready?’ he asked. Isentine nodded. Hyrkallan looked back to Jaslyn and held out his hand to her. ‘Come, my queen. Come with me.’

She didn’t move. Isentine saw a muscle in Hyrkallan’s jaw twitch.

‘Must I drag you?’ He reached for her.

Jaslyn neatly batted him away but then pressed her cheek against his and whispered in his ear so only he and Isentine could hear: ‘Touch me without my permission and I’ll cut your hand off.’

‘We have a duty, my queen. To our realm.’

‘Will you get me back my Lystra. From both of them?’

‘I will do what I can. If I cannot, it will be because I am dead.’

Jaslyn took his hand and pressed it against her thigh. ‘Then if you will do your duty, I will do mine. Leave me. I will come to you shortly.’

Hyrkallan lingered, unwilling to move. Jaslyn had almost to push him away, and then slowly he went, in long strides across the hall towards the one hundred and twenty steps that led to the Queen’s Rooms and beyond. Jaslyn stood very still, watching as he climbed them. She didn’t move until her was out of sight.

‘Zafir has my sister,’ she said as if that explained everything. Then, all of a sudden, she led Isentine out of the cavernous hall full of riders and servants. As soon as they were alone, she took his hands and rested her head against his chest. ‘I have to go and save her. You have to look after my Silence.’

She’s mad. Isentine stumbled away. ‘Your Holiness. You are my queen, but . . .’ But you cannot be seen like this. Not by anyone. Never like this.

There were tears in her eyes. ‘Then, as your queen, I command you to look after my Silence. You must feed him yourself. I’ve told him you’ll do that. You have to make the kill and then bring it to him. If you don’t he’ll know.’

He bowed. ‘Yes, Your Holiness.’ Lying to her was like sticking a knife in his own eye. But what else is there to do? The dragon is an abomination. It cannot live to grow.

‘Thank you. I won’t be gone for long. No other riders on Morning Sun, please. No scorpions. I would much prefer to ride alone.’

‘As you wish.’ And then I’ll wish you well and wave you farewell, for before you return your abomination will be dead and I will have taken the Dragon’s Fall. He almost wept. Not for himself or for any of the rest of them here in Outwatch, but for dead Queen Shezira, for everything she’d done and what had become of it. Before Jaslyn could turn away, he held out Hyrkallan’s pouch. ‘You will want this. For later. For the night. It will numb the sadness.’ Which was one of many ways of putting it and made giving it to her feel like yet another betrayal. ‘This isn’t the wedding I would have wanted for you.’

Jaslyn looked at him as though he was stupid. ‘And what wedding would you have wanted, Eyrie-Master? I suppose some grand affair with the lords and ladies of all the nine realms gathered around. Just like my mother. What I wanted, Eyrie-Master, was no wedding at all. I do not desire men, Eyrie-Master – any of you, for any purpose, or are you too blind to see that? I suppose you’ve been kind enough. There was a rider in the alchemist caves. I forget his name. He was kind too. Two kindnesses. I think that’s all I can remember.’ She snatched the pouch out of his hands. ‘But my desires don’t seem to mean very much. What is this?’ She opened it and sniffed. ‘Ah. The Maiden. Thank you for that small mercy at least. I shall take it all and as much wine as I can stomach and hope to have no memory of this night. It appals me, but I find I have some sympathy with Jehal. We both love my sister, and we both have our hands tied fast behind our backs by the power we hold.’ She took a deep breath. Her face softened. ‘I’m sorry. You have been kind. Look after my Silence for me, Isentine.’

He bowed and then watched her go. There didn’t seem to be much else to do.