Stephen Deas - The King of the Crags

Other men came and went, most of them with little to say of any interest. Vale listened anyway. A war was coming. It was obvious, and yet no one seemed concerned. The council was split, Vale decided, into two equal halves. Those who were too stupid to see and those who simply didn't care.

And then there was him, who would likely be expected to fight it. Presumably none of the rest of them were that bothered if the odd city full of their own people burned, as long as they kept their precious eyries. A cull. His heart beat faster at the thought. Would that not be for the best? At the very least it would make them pause and think.

At last the one man who might have something interesting to say got to his feet. Zaster, the old palace spymaster. 'Your Holiness, there have been movements among the dragon-knights of the north.' Even Zafir straightened very slightly. Now she was only pretending to be bored.

'Go on.'

'Princess Jaslyn has left Outwatch and returned to Sand. Several dragons have been seen heading for the Desert of Salt. She may remain reluctant, but she is negotiating her marriage with King Sirion's son, Prince Dyalt.'

Zafir glanced at Lord Eisal, who shrugged. 'Shezira promised her to my lord in exchange for his support.'

'And then murdered Hyram, my husband and your lord, when that wasn't enough.' Zafir wrinkled her nose and turned back to Zaster. 'And what about Almiri and Evenspire?'

'My spies have seen several dragons flying from the Spur to Almiri's eyrie. And a war-dragon flying back again, heavily laden.'

'Is that it? You've seen a dragon? I could have told you that myself. My riders have eyes too, Zaster.'

'Yes. The war-dragon your riders saw, Your Holiness.' Zaster bowed low. 'B'thannan. Rider Hyrkallan's mount. It confirms that he is leading the rebellion, Your Holiness.'

'Pshaw!' Vale winced. The speaker had half a goblet of wine dangling from her fingers. She'd been known to throw it at councillors who annoyed her. 'What else? Will you dazzle us with the revelation that the sun rises in the morning and sets at night? Of course Hyrkallan leads this insurrection. And Almiri? How much is she helping them? What about Sirion? Does he send aid to them too? Tell me something useful or be silent. I want proof of these treasons, not hearsay!'

Zaster had always been too quick to take offence. His lips drew t ight together. He started to sit down; as he did, Vale found himself rising. It was such a surprise that he didn't quite understand what was happening at first, and then had to wonder whether some sorcery was at work. But no, his own legs, nothing more. He looked from face to face, suddenly uncertain. He wasn't supposed to have opinions, so what in the realms could he he needing to say?

His lcj›s seemed to know what they were doing though, so he extended the same trust to his mouth.

'Hyrkallan won the Speaker's Tournament a decade ago when Hyram took the Speaker's Ring, Your Holiness. And a decade before that as well, when it was Iyanza.'

Zafir gave him a scornful look. 'Since when do Guardsmen speak in the Speaker's Council?'

He bowed and fell silent, but he'd done enough. The spymaster nodded. 'When the talk is of warriors, Your Holiness,' he murmured. 'Hyrkallan is a clever man, a good rider, strong, brave, with all the best qualities. Most of all he has experience and respect. The other riders of the north will follow him. They are much more dangerous with him than without, Your Holiness. As they have already shown.' A thundercloud passed across Zafir's face. No one spoke about Drotan's Top, but it hung in the air throughout the palace. Hyrkallan had bloodied her nose there and it still stung, even if she'd bloodied him back since.

'Give me dragons!' shouted Prince Sakabian. 'Let me smash them!'

Zafir glared him into silence.

He's right though. Any other speaker would have summoned a hundred dragons, sent out the Guard and crushed this nonsense. Zafir does nothing. Why?

Vale felt he ought to have been sitting down but somehow he wasn't. Instead, there were more words coming out. 'Why is he doing this, Lord Zaster? Why did he not go north all along? He has the whole of the north as his weapon if he chooses to use it, for they would follow him. He could force Jaslyn off her throne and come at you with ten times the dragons that follow him now. Why does he not?'

Zafir glared at him. 'If you'd done what was asked of you, Guardsman, then Hyrkallan and his Red Riders wouldn't even exist, would they?' She spat the words out. The fingers holding her goblet were twitching. 'If you'd taken all of Shezira's riders. If you hadn't let Almiri, of all people, escape. I should have removed you from your post there and then.'

Vale bowed. He sat down.

'They need to be dealt with, Your Holiness,' snapped Zaster.

'You should send Watchman Tassan-' He didn't get any further. Zafir's goblet caught him on the side of his head. Hard. Zaster staggered and put his fingers to his temple. They came away bloody.

'You presume to tell me what I should do?' She waved a hand at Vale. 'Send this idiot to finish cleaning up the mess he should never have allowed in the first place? Now that they have their dragons? And how many of the Adamantine Guard shall I throw away into the Maze?' She snorted. 'Very well, Lord Zaster, if they must be dealt with, and if my dragon patrols are not enough to satisfy you, you deal with them. Hire more sell-swords. Put a bigger reward on Rider Hyrkallan's head. On all of them. My weight in gold for every one of them. And while you're at it, they must be getting their potions from somewhere. Get me proof That Almiri is sending them supplies and I will reduce Evenspire to ash. Let their dragons turn rogue and eat them!'

Jeiros jumped to his feet. 'Your Holiness, Evenspire is a city of thousands! As large as the City of Dragons itself! Your dispute-' He bit his lip. 'Our dispute is with Queen Almiri, not her subjects.'

Zafir snarled: 'Then why don't you find some way to lure her away from her defences, eh, alchemist? But after you have finished learning to count.' She turned back to Zaster. Her face softened a little. 'Spymaster, you have not answered the Watchman's question. Why is Hyrkallan pursuing this foolishness?'

Zaster licked his fingers and shook his head. The look he gave Zafir was venomous. 'Oh I dare say he'll tire of this soon enough. Without him, I'm sure the rest will disperse.' That would have earned him the goblet again, if Zafir hadn't already thrown it at him. The speaker bared her teeth.

'Sell-swords, Zaster. More sell-swords. They are cheap and expendable.'

'Wasn't Rider GarHannas among them?' asked Prince Tyrin suddenly. 'GarHannas of Bloodsalt?' He was looking at Lord Eisal. Eisal pretended he hadn't heard but the damage was done. The council slipped back to doing what it did best, sniping at one another and making sure that nothing useful ever got done. Vale closed his eyes for a moment. Ten thousand men and two hundred riders sat idle at the palace. If he'd been permitted an opinion, it might have been that they should be doing something.

'Is there news, Your Holiness?'

Jaslyn sighed and slid off her dragon. Her new dragon with his glittering silvery black scales. A real prize. Morning Sun, Isentine had named him, but Jaslyn still thought of her old dragon, Silence, every time she flew. In her head, this new one had a different name. Not morning, but mourning. It felt much closer to her heart. They sounded the same too, which kept everybody happy. Her little secret.

She took off her helmet and dropped it on the packed, scorched earth of the landing field. One of the Scales would pick it up later. 'I wish you wouldn't call me that, Eyrie-Master.' She didn't even glance back at the dragon behind her. The sun was low and its bulk cast them both into shadow.