How did hominids find time to make so many squalling whelps when they had to cope with such complexity every day? Strange schemes of the two-legged!
They turned off the river and followed a smaller branch into the mountains. AuRon guessed their destination from far off. He could see the cuts and shapes to one spur of mountain, flung far out and divided into claws, like a two-digit saa.
On the way there they encountered giant winged avians. AuRon recognized them. He’d seen a few, far off and high up, in his explorations of the southern jungles during his years as dragon-friend to the blighters of the Bissonian Scarps.
“Roc-riders,” DharSii said. “The Queen’s latest obsession. She’s breeding them as fast as she can. She learned some trick of taming them just out of the egg.”
AuRon suspected he knew the trick, but he said nothing.
Three avians, with unnatural bumps of fur-swaddled men on their backs, flew close. Their saddles and reins seemed light compared to those AuRon was all too well acquainted with from the wizard’s riders. As to weapons, they looked like dwarvish crossbows.
“The threat’s not the man,” DharSii said. “It’s those beaks and talons. They can outclimb and outturn a dragon.”
“And a dive?” AuRon called.
DharSii winked. “Shhhh.”
The riders were satisfied with a brief look at DharSii. They took their mounts higher, content to observe.
They approached the ending of a long-running stretch of the Red Mountains. The ridge was rather odd, rocky and sheer-sided, with grass at the top like a green rug running down from the tree line. Woods of trees that looked amazingly tall stood in a misty valley, with foggy clouds in two layers rendering the landscape gray and soft.
“That’s the Queen’s Wood, all around that spur,” DharSii said. “The mightiest trees you’ve ever seen, tall cylinders of pine longer than dragons. I daresay older, too.”
AuRon marked a prominence at the end of the mountain, before it divided into three steep fells.
“That’s a mountain centuries in the making. It’s an old place, terribly old. Supposedly there was a war fought between elves and dwarves over it long ago. It was supposed to depict that dwarf-legend Dwar with his face coming out of a tree, some legend of theirs. Or maybe the tree is the elves’ doing, to make it look like his head is hanging from the branches—though I don’t quite believe it because the head looks out of proportion. Then Anklamere took possession and decided it should be him, and off comes much of the beard—you can see they’ve made sort of a labyrinth below with bits of it—and the brow was reshaped to his noble form. Now, with the Red Queen’s rule, they’re reshaping it again to make it more feminine.”
“Where does the Queen live?”
“That terrace built into the back of the sculpted knob. It doesn’t look that impressive, but it’s rich inside. There’s a long path up the green spine of the ridge to her personal temple, and you can see her sacred flocks in their pens. We’ll make for the path. There’s a sort of amphitheater where she holds audiences. I watched one and she said very little, just swapped her masks around as she made judgments.”
AuRon saw what he guessed was the amphitheater. The palace itself, set at the back of the under-construction face, didn’t look nearly as impressive as the delvings of the Dwarves of the Diadem. A few little holes, some barred windows, a balcony and walkway here and there. It seemed a cold, lonely place, up there looking down on treetops with only the wind and a few soaring birds to keep you company.
AuRon spilled wind and drew close to DharSii again.
“She seems a long way from the city. What was it called again?”
“Ghihar.”
“Ghihar.”
“She doesn’t go among her people much. She’s supposed to be able to strike a man blind with her beauty—or her ugliness. It depends if you talk to a friend or enemy of Ghioz which version of that you’ll hear. One of those roc-riders said an expectant mother can’t so much as look at her shadow without miscarrying.”
They landed on the greensward. AuRon smelled sheep and his mouth grew wet. Flying always gave him an outsized appetite.
DharSii stretched, a strange gesture, so different from the way his other dragons did—like a cat from the inn named after Wistala, first the back end, then the front.
“What now?”
“Oh, some watchman is sending a report to his captain, who will tell one of the Queen’s servants, who will inform the Queen. She should be here. She has a winter palace near the coast and a summer palace up in old Dairuss, but she hardly uses them when she’s busy.”
“She’s been so occupied lately?”
“Ever since we recovered that crystal she wanted.”
AuRon shuddered, but couldn’t have said why he did so.
“I think I picked up some scale-nits between my wings,” DharSii said. “Do you mind?”“Go ahead.”
“They’re vicious. Do you suffer much? I’ve never known a gray.”
“They wash off easily with no scale to hide behind,” AuRon said.
“Fortunate.”
“Sometimes.”
DharSii groomed, and then they settled into silence.
They only waited less than a dwarf-hour.
The Red Queen appeared to the sound of trumpets, riding out of her palace behind two white horses pulling a white chariot. A stunted human rode one of the horses, and another the back of her chariot, throwing his weight this way and that in the turns.
AuRon had plenty of time to watch as she approached. He understood the red part immediately—she wore garments of the richest red with a silvery metal accenting it. Her dressing reminded him a little of the battle flags he’d seen in the east, pinned to the back of horsemen, though these seemed more like streamers, projecting out and up like a peacock displaying his feathering.
He supposed it made an impression. But no bodyguard, no retainers, not so much as a courtier or a herald?
“Why doesn’t she send one of her titleors to do her bidding?”
“She doesn’t trust others to shade her judgments. Besides, she’s fascinated with dragons. I expect she wants to meet you. She’s been full of energy since our battle in the heart of Old Uldam. She’s pleased that we retrieved that crystal. I’m sure it lights up her collection of treasures.”
“Ah.”
“Do not stare directly into her face. She wears layers of masks, a silk one with a porcelain one atop that, then there’s the gold one she holds in her hands. On one side the face frowns, on the other it smiles. You’ll do well to see that she keeps the smiling one toward you.”
Watching her approach, AuRon decided the flight was worth it. He’d like a chance to meet so extraordinary . . .
Extraordinary what?
“Is she human?”
“She’s the correct size for one, though she has some of the willowy grace of the elves. She’s no dwarf or blighter, that’s certain.”
The chariot ascended the path at a trot. She entered their field and approached them like a serpent, bending first one way and then the other. The horses refused to settle in the presence of the dragon, and the other miniature human assisted his twin in holding them.
She gave a sweeping move of her hand and loose sleeve-fabric followed as though trying to catch up. She detached herself from the plumed carapace and came off the wheeled platform.
AuRon noted the decorative spikes at the center of the wheels.
He would have thought her a slim young man or an elf rather than a woman. She seemed scant for a female. The ones he’d known were full and curved as foxtails. DharSii hadn’t been exaggerating about the masks. Her head was swathed in silk and she wore a mask on her face of the brightest white, shimmering like an unblemished moon.
Her garb still stuck out and up from the shoulders and hung about her as though she were traveling with her own tent in place. The coloring reminded him of a well-boiled lobster. She carried a large mask on a polished ivory stick, holding it in front of her face with the smiling golden face turned out. The face was masculine and reminded him of a beardless dwarf more than anything.
Odd. But then he’d always been told that powerful humans had strange fancies.
The horse-holders took the chariot up the path and away from the dragons.
AuRon couldn’t help but be impressed. Most hominids were terribly timid around dragons, or overcame their instincts and started touching in a stockyard fashion. The Red Queen kept a full neck-length of distance and looked up.
“DharSii, we knew that talk of never returning was a hothead letting off steam. It pleases us to see you back.”
DharSii lowered his head. “Great Queen.”
AuRon thought it best to imitate him.
The mask spun, flashing a brief frown before the smiling face turned to the dragons again. “Ever measured in your words in our presence. We thank you for relieving us from courtly duties and getting us out in the air. You have brought us another skyking?”
“A famous dragon out of the north, traveling in search of a comrade. His name is AuRon.”