Marie Brennan - In the Labyrinth of Drakes

“We have found a hidden temple, footprints, petrified eggs, and a stone we can translate,” Suhail said, ticking the items off on his fingers. “Who is to say that a skeleton is not out there somewhere?”

The odds were small… but I would not give up hope. “If there is, then we will find it.”

Suhail and I parted for a time that winter: the obligations of dealing with the Watchers’ Heart kept him in Akhia, while Tom and I had to report to Lord Rossmere concerning our own commission. (Also Jake had to return to school, though he protested mightily.)

“I would call this a successful failure,” Lord Rossmere said once we were settled in his office. “You did not manage to breed dragons, but we kept Yelangese attention diverted for a good long while. And that discovery of your husband’s, Dame Isabella, has turned into a diplomatic coup for us with the Akhian government.”

I smiled sweetly at him. “I am glad that our discovery has brought so many benefits.”

His frown said he had not missed the stress I laid on that word. “Yes, well. Under the circumstances, the Crown has decided it would be best to let the research in Qurrat continue in a more generalized way. Who knows? Maybe you’ll even find a way to harness dragons for a more active combat role, the way the Keongans do.”

Tom cleared his throat. “My lord, neither Dame Isabella nor I are interested in carrying out more military research. We would be happy to go on studying drakes, to further our store of knowledge—but not to use them in war.”

Lord Rossmere brushed this off with the air of a man who thinks he can talk his opponent around, but Tom and I were utterly firm on that point, both then and in the weeks to come. We did not like the clear implication that the breeding programme had been a smokescreen for the synthesis efforts from the start; we did not like being treated as the Royal Army’s lackeys. Suhail had enough influence now in Akhia that Dar al-Tannaneen would survive, with or without Scirling involvement: if Lord Rossmere tried to force the point, the emir of Qurrat would reclaim the property and re-establish it as a research site under his own authority. Which would hardly free us from the noose of politics, of course—that cannot be escaped, wherever one goes—but it made a useful stick to bludgeon people with in an argument.

And I soon had quite a strong arm with which to bludgeon. Not long after our return, Tom and I received the news that we were both to be rewarded for our recent deeds: he with an elevation to knighthood, becoming Sir Thomas Wilker, and I with a peerage.

I burst into laughter when I heard the news. “Me, a lady? You can’t be serious.”

But they were quite serious. I was to be granted the barony of Trent, in the county of Linshire. There were various complications on account of my foreign marriage, but the peerage solved one problem in the course of creating others: Suhail and I took the opportunity to adopt Trent as a shared surname, dodging the linguistic and social contradictions we had ignored up to that point. Miss Isabella Hendemore had become Mrs. Isabella Camherst, then Dame Isabella Camherst; now, at the age of thirty-four, I acquired the name by which the world knows me: Isabella, Lady Trent.

Only a few of my readers, I think, will understand why my elevation felt almost like an insult.

Tom understood. “It’s a slap to the face,” he said, pacing an angry circuit across the carpet of my study. “Not that you don’t deserve it—you do.”

“And you deserve more than a knighthood,” I said.

“They’ll never make me a lord, and we both know it. But why haven’t they made you a Colloquium Fellow?”

I could feel my mouth settling into an ironic line. “Because I have not yet published anything of sufficient scientific import.”

“Bollocks,” he said bluntly. “You’ve published as much as I have. More than a great many of my fellows .” He scarred the word with heavy sarcasm.

We both knew the real answer to his question, of course. I was not a member of the Philosophers’ Colloquium because I was a woman. “If I am right about the effect of the environment on incubation, and I publish that —”

Tom’s leg jerked as if he almost kicked one of my chairs. Instead he sat in it, scowling like a thunderhead. “We have to achieve twice as much, in order to get half as much reward.”

There was no answer I could make to that. It was true… but neither of us could do a thing about it. Except, of course, to achieve four times as much. To be so exceptional, they could no longer shut us out; and having done that, to hope that those who came after might be judged on equal terms with those who should be their peers.

It is not a dream easily attained. We have not truly attained it in my lifetime. But I was more determined than ever to do my part.

I therefore went to the wall and pulled down the map hanging on a roll there. It was decorated with little tags, marking the homes of different draconic breeds around the world. Once Suhail came to Falchester, he and I would update it with major Draconean sites. Somewhere in the world, our two passions must intersect and form the picture I sought.

Turning to face Tom, I smiled and said, “The answers are out there somewhere. And together, we will find them.”

A Natural History of Dragons

The Tropic of Serpents

Voyage of the Basilisk

In the Labyrinth of Drakes

Midnight Never Come

In Ashes Lie

A Star Shall Fall

With Fate Conspire

Warrior

Witch

MARIE BRENNAN habitually pillages her background in anthropology, archaeology, and folklore for fictional purposes. She is the author of the Onyx Court series, the Doppelganger duology of Warrior and Witch, and the urban fantasy Lies and Prophecy, as well as more than thirty short stories. The first book in the Memoirs of Lady Trent series, A Natural History of Dragons, was nominated for a World Fantasy Award for Best Novel.

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