“Then you don’t mind going with me?” She was startled by the sudden change in his attitude. She could not keep the smile from her face.
“Not at all,” he insisted. “I’m looking forward to getting close to the dragons as much as you are.”
“No, you aren’t,” Alise said with a laugh. She looked into his face boldly, knowing that in the night she did not need to fear letting her affection for him shine in her eyes. “But it’s a very kind lie, Sedric. I know you realize how much this means to me, and you’ve been awfully good about enduring your exile from Bingtown. When we return, I promise I’ll find some way to make it up to you.”
Sedric abruptly looked uncomfortable. “Alise, nothing of the kind is necessary. I assure you. Let me walk you to your cabin and then say good night.”
She wanted to tell him that she could walk herself to her cabin. But doing that would mean admitting to herself that she did enjoy her quiet chats with the captain, and that she rather hoped that he would join her again that night. But Sedric had already made it clear that he had reservations about such conversations, and she would not put him in the uncomfortable position of having to stay awake to chaperone her. She rose and let him take her arm.
SINTARA AWOKE TO DARKNESS. The blackness jolted her, for she had been dreaming of flying in sunlit blue skies over a glittering city by a wide river of blue and silver. “Kelsingra,” she muttered to herself. She closed her eyes to the dark and tried to will herself back into her dream. She recalled the tall map tower at the center of the city, the broad city square, the leaping fountains, and the wide, shallow steps that led into the main buildings. There had been frescoes on the walls, images of both Elderling and dragon queens. Some ancestor of hers recalled sleeping sprawled on those wide steps, baking in the heat from the sun and the stone. How pleasant it had been to doze there, barely aware of the folk who hurried past her on their business. Their voices had been as musical as the distant chuckling of the river.
Sintara opened her eyes again. There was no recapturing the dream, and the memory was a thin and tattered substitute. She could hear the river muttering past the muddy banks, but she also heard the stentorian breathing of a dozen other dragons sleeping close by. There was no comparison between the dream and her reality.
Mercor had set his plan into motion with meticulous precision. He had never voiced his rumor directly to a human. Always, he had arranged for the dragons to be speaking casually of the wonders of Kelsingra when humans chanced to be nearby. Once, it had been as workers were carrying a beautiful mirror frame out of the buried city. She recognized the material it was made from, a peculiar metal that when stroked, emitted light. Mercor had glanced at it and turned aside to remark to Sestican, “Do you recall the mirrored chamber of the Queen’s Palace in Kelsingra? Over seven thousand gems were set in the ceiling mirrors alone. How they flared with light and perfume when she entered!”
Another time, it had been when the hunters had brought them the gamy remains of a stag to eat. As Mercor accepted his pitifully small share, he observed, “There was a statue of an elk in the King’s Hall at Kelsingra, was there not? Of ivory overlaid with gold, and his eyes were two immense black jewels. Remember how they shone when they activated him, and how he would paw the earth and toss his head when anyone entered the king’s chambers?”
Lies, all lies. If any such treasures had ever existed anywhere, Sintara did not recall them. But each time the humans paused and watched him as he spoke, even if he did not glance in their direction. And before the moon had changed, humans came to them in the darkness, without torches, to whisper questions about Kelsingra. How far away had it been? Was it built on high ground or low? How large a city? Of what were the buildings constructed? And Mercor had lied to them as it suited him, telling them that it was not all that far, that it had been built on high ground, and that all the buildings were built of marble and jade. But more than that, he would not tell them, not landmarks that had been nor how many days’ travel it had once been from Cassarick. Nor would he consent to help a human make a map of where it once had been.
“Impossible to tell,” he explained affably. “In those days, the river was fed by a hundred tributaries. There was a great lake before one came to Kelsingra. That I recall. But more than that, well, I could not say. I could go there and find it again, I am sure, if I had a mind to do so and a way to feed myself. But, no, it is not a thing I can put into words.”
The next evening, there had been other men, asking the same questions, and two nights later, still more. All received the same teasing answers. Finally there had come by daylight half a dozen members of the Cassarick Traders’ Council to offer a proposal to the dragons. And with them, incensed and fearful, came Malta the Elderling, dressed all in cloth of gold with a turban of white and scarlet on her head.
