Stephen Deas - The adamantine palace

That got them all. Even Zafir, even Shezira, who'd tried to pretend that Jehal hadn't said anything, even they couldn't ignore that. They stared at him in mute horror. All except the Viper, of course, whose mouth would probably still spew its villainous bile long after the rest of him was dead.

'Oh no, I couldn't do that. Since it seems you're going to live a while longer, I suddenly have something to keep me from growing bored again. I'll not forget your hospitality, Hyram. Perhaps now I'll be able to repay it one day.' Jehal turned and stroked his father's head. 'Or perhaps not. The potions haven't done much for King Tyan. He's too far gone. How long, do you suppose, before you follow him?'

'Perhaps he'd get better if you stopped poisoning him?'

This time Jehal got slowly to his feet. Several others rose as well: Narghon, Shezira, a couple of Hyram's own cousins. The rest were too stunned to move. Jehal leaned across the table. 'Slander me one more time, old man, and I'll take you out to the challenge fields. I won't kill you, but you'll wish I had.'

'Slander?' Hyram stood up as well. 'Or the truth?'

'If it's the truth, why don't you show all these worthy lords and ladies some evidence? Oh!' Jehal slapped his forehead. 'What a fool I am. Of course. That's because you haven't got any. Not one little shred.'

'Then challenge me. I accept. Axe and sword. Ahh, please, please, little Viper, let us play.'

Someone slammed a fist into the table. It took a moment for Hyram to realise that it was Shezira. 'Enough, both of you. Hyram, don't be a fool. Prince Jehal, you began this childishness. Perhaps you should leave.'

Jehal shot Shezira a look of pure hate. 'Of course, Your Holiness. How rude of me to be accused.' He took a step back and bowed. 'King Narghon, King Silvallan, King Valgar, I bid you and yours a pleasant evening. The rest of you can choke.'

In silence the table watched him go, his riders and King Tyan with him. When the door slammed, Queen Shezira resumed her seat. King Narghon was still on his feet. He shook his head. It made his jowls wobble.

'Lord Hyram, Prince Jehal is right. You should show us your evidence or still your tongue. And Queen Shezira, why should Prince Jehal be forced aside when he is the one who has been wronged.'

'Because, save for those of you who choose to be blind, we all know that I'm right,' Hyram spat.

Shezira drummed her fingers on the table. 'King Narghon, this is Hyram's hall until another one of us takes that ring. He cannot be sent from his own hall, and one of them had to go. Hyram, you might be right that there are several around this table who have their suspicions. Nevertheless, you have no proof. I am quite certain I know who was responsible for the theft of my white dragon.'

'Aye, the King of the Crags. Pity he didn't bother to come. Where's Tichane to answer for him, eh? Not here either.' Hyram smirked. The potions and the wine were making him lightheaded, but for once it didn't matter. He didn't have to care.

'Does he ever come?' asked King Valgar.

'I'm not sure he even exists any more. How would we know?'

Shezira cleared her throat. 'When I have proof, I will pursue them, whoever they are' – she glared at Hyram – 'to the end of the world. Until then I will keep my silence, and I suggest you do the same.'

'I've had enough of silence.'

He stopped. Zafir was leaning forward to catch his eye, shaking her head. 'The wine is making you reckless,' she said, quietly enough that most of the others wouldn't hear. 'And the potions.'

Hyram blinked. 'Queen Zafir is quite right: I have made a fool of myself. Perhaps it is the prerogative of any man relieved of such a burden, but King Narghon is also correct. If the Viper has insulted my table and all who sit at it then so have I. Queen Shezira, it is me you should have sent away, not Prince Jehal.'

Shezira pursed her lips. She didn't reply.

'Oh, I think you should both have stayed,' said Queen Zafir pleasantly. 'I was looking forward to watching you spill that murderer's blood!'

Narghon shot to his feet again. 'I will not have these accusations!'

Zafir raised an eyebrow. 'Didn't you know? Prince Jehal was with my mother when she died. They'd slipped away for a little tryst, and only one came back. I have drawn my own conclusions. You may do the same.' Her brow furrowed. 'Maybe she fell, or maybe she was pushed. Who knows? He did it, though. Either way, Prince Jehal has her blood on his hands. If he pushed her, I have to wonder why. Why would he do such a thing? If Aliphera had been here instead of me, what might have happened? Would Lord Hyram still have honoured his brother's pact? Of course he would. So I can't help but wonder what madness is going through the minds of those who suggest that Prince Jehal would have killed her to remove a possible alternative successor.' She was looking straight at Queen Shezira now. 'Or to guarantee his bride. Or to ensure that he would be speaker one day.'

The air chilled. It took Hyram a second or two to unravel what Zafir had said. By the time he'd worked it out, Shezira was already bright red.

'Who suggests?' she hissed.

Zafir shook her head. 'Utter madness. So perhaps Aliphera wasn't pushed; perhaps she simply fell, but I'll call him-' She coughed and gagged. 'I'll call him-'

She started to rise, slipped and fell to the floor, clutching at her throat. Whatever she was going to call Jehal, the dragon-kings and -queens never found out.

Poison and Lies

The Adamantine Eyrie was full. It was more than full. Makeshift pens had been set up out on the Hungry Mountain Plains, more for the herds of cattle to feed the dragons than for the dragons themselves. The speaker had laid out a tented village to shelter all the extra workers that had been drafted in. Some dragon-lords had also brought a few men of their own. And with the eyrie workers and the drivers and carters came the hangers-on, the traders, the fortune-tellers, the fortune-seekers, the thieves, the pickpockets and the desperate, all of them sucked out of the countryside, drawn in by the knowledge that wherever there were dragons, there was wealth. The tented village had grown into a a tented town long before the last dragon arrived. It was a crowded chaos where every other face was a stranger.

For two riders set upon a very private piece of business, it was perfect. They didn't look like riders; they looked like simple soldiers, sell-swords perhaps, or a pair of off-duty swordsmen of the Adamantine Guard. They moved with purpose through the stalls and traders, right to the heart of the makeshift town, certain that no one would recognise or remember them.

They were wrong. A boy, not quite a man, in a dull brown cloak and with a dirty face had been following them for quite some time, ducking and weaving through the throng. But the riders didn't know anything about that, not yet.

Near the centre of the market they stopped at a little table set up in front of a tiny tent barely large enough for a man to stand inside. There was a man there too, a strange fellow with uncommonly dark skin. The clothes he wore were tattered and faded, but they'd been rich and ornate once. Any gold and jewels were long gone; only a dazzling rainbow of feathers remained. The riders seemed unimpressed by his strangeness. The boy hung back and watched them all with an expression of puzzled interest.

A purse changed hands. A heavy one by the looks of it. The dark-skinned man vanished into his tent and appeared again a moment later. He held out a leather satchel. The taller of the two knights took it and they moved quickly away. Too quickly. Too quickly to be innocent at any rate. The boy followed them to the edge of the market and into a large beer tent. In the middle of the day there weren't many people inside. The boy glanced at the riders and then padded across the sticky straw floor and sat down at a table.