The Order of the Scales Deas - The Order of the Scales

No. You don’t. The Order of the Scales had careful rules about which of their secrets they told to whom. Hard rules with harsh punishments for those who broke them. Princes learned more than dragon-lords. Kings and eyrie-masters more still.

‘Then you will see it for yourself.’ Even after twenty years, Shezira had never quite believed. Isentine had always seen it as a compliment, really, a tacit nod to the meticulous care with which he ran his eyrie. Now Hyrkallan would see it all for himself. A dragon untouched by alchemy. Aware and awake. Alive. Intelligent. He would feel a dragon read his thoughts and plant its own straight into his head. All these things without a word being said. No rules broken. Shezira never believed and left the dragons to me and to the alchemists. Antros? He simply didn’t care. Almiri didn’t need to. Lystra? I suppose I might never know whether she believed whatever she was told. Jaslyn saw half of it for herself before anyone told her anything. She was the only one. Did I even believe it myself, when I was first made into the master of Outwatch? I don’t think I did.

He frowned at himself. No time for rambling, old man. Back to the present. ‘The hatchling must be dulled,’ he said sharply, ‘and if that cannot be done, it must be killed.’

That got Hyrkallan’s attention. ‘You want to kill Jaslyn’s hatch-ling?’

Too hard to explain until Hyrkallan saw the abomination for himself. Then he would understand. ‘We can agree, Lord Hyrkallan, that Queen Jaslyn’s place is not here. She must be persuaded of this. If our reasons differ, the result does not. When she is gone, I will do what I have always done, what needs to be done, both for this realm and for others.’

‘Every dragon.’ Hyrkallan wagged a finger in Isentine’s face. ‘You save every dragon and make it grow.’

Isentine smiled. ‘You sound like her. Shezira.’ Would it help to tell Hyrkallan that one hatchling in every three refused to eat? Starved itself to death rather than take the alchemists’ potions? Probably not. Hyrkallan could have that later, when he was ready for it. When he was ready to know that the problem was getting worse too.

‘I know.’ They started to walk again, this time in silence, both of them lost in their memories of the dead queen they’d both admired and maybe loved. Isentine led them to the yawning shaft that formed the hub of the underground eyrie and started painfully on the stairs that circled downward.

‘My legs aren’t what they used to be.’

‘Shezira came to me before she was made speaker. She wanted to replace you. I told her she was mad. I think that was what she wanted to hear.’

‘She sent Jaslyn to me as my successor.’ Isentine sighed. ‘She would have made a good eyrie-mistress.’

‘Let her. Once her duty to me is done.’

‘She has to be a queen.’

Hyrkallan shook his head. ‘No. I have to be a king. We both know that’s why she offered to share her crown with me. That’s a price I’ll be happy to pay for this honour. Let Jaslyn live with her dragons if she wishes. I won’t stop her. If anything it seems fitting for a dragon-queen. Perhaps others will see it that way.’

‘Perhaps.’ Half a year ago, the idea of Jaslyn becoming the heir to Outwatch had seemed perfect for both of them. Now he wasn’t so sure. She understands the dragons well enough, if anything too well. She has seen what monsters they are and what terrors they can become, and yet she has awoken another one. Would I sleep easy at night knowing the realms were at her mercy? I’m not at all sure I would.

‘Here.’ Isentine stepped off the stairs and into one of the endless tunnels that burrowed into the stone under Outwatch. ‘We keep the hatchling chained. Jaslyn is not quite herself either. I have to give her potions to hold the Hatchling Disease at bay every day, and that’s another reason you should take her away. It’s a battle that is always slowly lost and you wouldn’t want her if she turned out looking like one of the Scales.’

‘I would do my duty, Eyrie-Master.’

‘Then let us say that I would not forgive myself if our queen could not retain the little beauty she has. I have given Jaslyn far more than the usual dose. It is starting to affect her thinking.’ He sighed again. ‘There is another thing you must know, Lord Hyrkallan. Queen Jaslyn does not like to be under the ground. She will ask you to force me to release the hatchling from its chains. You may say what you wish, Your Highness, but I will not do that. Not on your command or hers. You may bring dragon-knights and put us to the sword, but I will not give that monster its freedom and nor will any alchemist in my eyrie.’

He hobbled along the tunnels that led towards the caves on the cliff, the bright places where the sun poured in from the south and the hatchlings took their first tentative breaths. A mercurial tension lingered among these caves, the hatchling caves. Men died here, and often. Isentine shook his head. ‘You never quite know what you’re going to get with a hatchling. Some of them are dazed and confused and easily chained. Some of them seem not to mind at all. Many fight as though they know exactly what will happen to them. They come a spitting fury of teeth and claws and fire, right from the egg. I lose men, Hyrkallan, to try and save those. We fall on them, a dozen of us trying to pin one of the beasts down while others wrestle the chains around their wings and neck. Dressed up in the thickest dragon-scale. Always the biggest and strongest man gets the head. You have to press down with all your weight, wrap your arms around its mouth and squeeze. You would be a good choice, Your Highness. A good solid build and a smith’s arms.’ He smiled. ‘I did it myself, many years ago. Look around any eyrie and you’ll see it’s the big men who are missing their arms or their hands. It’s as though some dragons understand everything even before they hatch.’

Now he shook his head. Those were usually the ones that starved themselves, the fighters. ‘And then Queen Jaslyn came and told us all that this one was her old dragon Silence and that we were to feed it with meat and water that had not been touched by any alchemist. When we wouldn’t do that, she did it herself. And it ate and drank, but it will not touch anything that is put in front of it by anyone else. Her Holiness must hunt and kill for it. She must bring the food to the beast herself. I don’t know how it knows, but it does. Her Holiness claims that the dragon speaks to her. That it remembers.’ He stopped at a door in the tunnel and shuddered. ‘I leave you to judge the truth of her claims.’ The door was heavy, bound in iron. Small too. Small enough that a large man like Hyrkallan would have some trouble getting through it in all his armour. Small enough to keep all but a newborn hatchling out. Or in, which was more to the point. ‘Here,’ he said, with a twinge of sadness in his voice. ‘Her Holiness is here. You will find her inside.’

He let Hyrkallan go in first, since the prince was wearing armour and sometimes the hatchling was in a foul mood. When there were no shrieks or bursts of fire, he peered around the door himself. Jaslyn was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor. The dragon was curled up beside her, sleeping. She was stroking its scales.

‘He likes this,’ she said distantly.

Isentine shook his head. ‘I’ll leave you to it then. I’d rather be away from that thing. Watch it if it wakes, My Lord. The two of them seem to have an accommodation, but I wouldn’t trust it not to bite your arm off. She says it reads your thoughts, so I advise you to guard them.’

He slowly climbed back up to the surface and waited. Half an hour passed, and then Hyrkallan emerged. His face was dark with fury. Isentine knew exactly how things had gone. Whatever Hyrkallan had said, he’d already tried it all himself.