 
# Polo Shawcross: Dragon Outlaw

# Lee Abrey

Published by Lee Abrey at Smashwords

Copyright © Lee Abrey 2017-2018

### Cover Art and Design by Lee Abrey

With massive assistance from Adobe Photoshop

And the artists of pixabay.com

### Smashwords License Statement

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

#### ****

### For Author Notes and Contact Details

### See The End.

Enjoy

#### ****

### Dedicated with love

### To the Delta Reader

Who survived the journey

### And to my Twitter followers

Too many to list

Thanks for the distraction, the encouragement,  
The firm orders to go write,  
(when I said I was procrastinating  
and needed to be told)  
Thanks most of all for the unconditional love  
Without you I wouldn't have made it.

#### ****

## Chapter 1 – Catching Up

These books are a response to several unauthorised biographies presenting my life as something I barely recognised, that everyone who knew me thought hilarious.

So, instead of supposition, here is my story in my own words. The words are sourced from both my recollections and journals and those of my friends, enemies, and others. There was much more than just my life involved. If you haven't read the first three books, or even if you have, there may be some confusion as we settle into the next part of the story. Bear with me, I'll lay out the gist of events and remind you of the history as we go.

Pretend you're the new one at Court. Put on a polite mask, everyone else has. It's so busy compared to that rather provincial place you're from that nobody's ever heard of. Everyone except you seems to know each other. They're mostly terribly kind about how delightfully countrified your accent and clothing are, but don't let them know you're feeling adrift.

While I remember, never ask one of the Blood for directions. They're so used to the lower classes telling them where to go and what to do, they hardly ever know exactly where they are, though most can get the city or estate right. With the servants or commoners you can admit to being lost, they'll set you straight.

Don't ask me. Despite being an ex-military scout and having a peasant father, I have no sense of direction, though I can use a map and compass and do so when travelling.

I was born with no title. My friend Azrael, on the other hand, though like me, part-Dragon and part-human, was born a prince, heir to Sendren. Despite being a Military Guild graduate, a career in the Army of the North his lifelong dream, he couldn't serve. His grandfather the King of Sendren fell ill and Azrael was needed on the throne. Not one to wait around, he was busy adding to his tally of kingdoms. Azrael was now the King of Sendren-Highcliff, thanks to an astute marriage. Or perhaps it was Highcliff-Sendren? I couldn't remember which, it being a very new joining.

The Army of the North was a pan-kingdom effort to hold the northern border against Sriama. It simply wasn't working. Reasons included army corruption, tactically-inept leadership, an enemy on a holy mission fighting a guerrilla war, and the simple fact that Dragon didn't fight any more in the wars of man. Azrael was trying to change that. It was part of his army dream to end the war in the north.

Most people were in favour of ending the war, which had been at fever pitch for most of my life. After thousands of years of hostilities, the dead on both sides were countless. From the Kingdom side – my side - it was a just war far as I could tell, in the sense that it was for a cause a man could believe in. Others, Blood or human, signed up willingly.

Me, not so much. I was so drunk at the time I literally couldn't stand up, and hadn't known what I was signing. I did my three years, they said I was a hero, then I came home. There are facts common to all wars. Too many people die in them. Too many, usually ten times the dead and more, are left scarred and crippled in body, mind and soul. Not to mention what war does to all the people who have to flee because their little farm or village is about to be a famous battlefield. And to those left grieving.

I didn't want to be scarred and crippled, inside and out, at least no more than I already was, and please Zol and Haka – respectively the gods of war and death - I didn't want to kill any more. I was so sick of slaughter. I wasn't going to fight in Azrael's war. Although Azrael and I were almost exactly the same age, our lives had taken different paths since we last spent time together. He'd become king, I'd gone crazy.

Along with being an idiot – only an idiot volunteers to be a soldier when they have a list of reasons not to join the army - I was only months out of a three-year stint, where I made corporal. My survival still filled me with joy and guilt. All soldiers go at least a little crazy, and my mental state had been questionable before I joined. Now it seemed to be deteriorating. From seeing one ghost, Cree - who claimed he wasn't one - I now saw two.

Cree had been around since I was fifteen and I was used to him. I saw him as a symptom of my insanity, and we argued about how crazy I was. He was transparent, as all good ghosts should be, even if they argue the point and say they're a being-in-body. Now there was a new one, a woman named Jules, a friend of Cree's. She displayed a disturbing solidity for someone who appeared out of thin air. Jules was supposed to be about three thousand years old but I'd discovered that wasn't as unusual as you might think. Stefan was around that, and so was Azrael's new bride, Lilith. Stefan, Azrael's real father, and Lilith were Dragon. If she was real, Jules was human. I wasn't sure what Cree was.

I was Blood. And a duke, a reward from the old king. It was a perfect life, and I destroyed it by signing into the army. After surviving my own stupidity, and having reached the grand old age of twenty-one, I was kidnapped by enemies at Court, which accidentally gave me a new skill set. I learned to change shape, a Dragon trait, which saved my life and triggered the gift of telepathy. I then had to learn to fly, and to shield my mind, because extra-abilities need as much training as learning to ride a horse does. I'm a good horseman now, but was never a natural, and when it came to shape-changing, flying, or telepathy, I was very much a beginner.

To explain. Dragon were descended from humans. No longer _Homo_ _sapiens_ but a genetically-engineered separate species, _Homo_ _draconicus_ , Dragon were stronger and often taller than Galaian native humans, but inherited all humanity's idiocy, silly conceits, and ability to bear grudges. Speaking of idiocy, since the moment humans created Dragon, some three thousand years ago, they were suspicious of them.

Even Dragon's descendants were often brought up to be wary of Dragon. It's human, to be suspicious of anyone different, a trait Dragon and humans share. And Dragon and the Blood were noticeably different to humans. As the old saying goes, when Man created Dragon, he accidentally created Magic. Dragon might be able to change shape, fly, and develop extra-senses, things that people saw as Magic. Was a time when just the hint of Magic meant burning after torture, for those who showed sign. For that reason, Dragon and the Blood, though a minority in the kingdoms, were the only ones allowed to rule. It wasn't actually just the Blood, one had to show Dragon sign.

Mixed blood like Azrael and I were called Blood, which meant any descendant of Dragon. Not all of us showed Dragon sign, which was metallic or crystalline markings on the iris, called cat's eyes, which were accompanied by good night vision. My Blood mother was more than half-Dragon, her mother a full-blood. The green iris of my eyes was ringed with copper. My coloration was called orbital metallic, a circle of metallic colour on an iris of one colour. My mother's was orbital opalescence, a ring of opal-like colours. One could also have solid opalescence, similar to Azrael's solid crystalline. His eyes were dark blue, scattered with diamond lights a colour called Westwych blue, common in that family.

Then there was the little matter of Dragon blood meaning the possibility of shape-changing or other gifts. Shape-changers were the ones humans and even the Blood were most suspicious of. Thanks to bad experiences with humans on their home planet of Lucas, when Dragon came to Galaia - where I was born - it was made law that only the cat's-eyed ones could rule. No human was going to use the law to make the Dragon and Blood minority less than human, not again.

By my time, Dragon had been on Galaia for a thousand years. They'd spent a lot of that time interbreeding with humans, with the idea that once everyone was related to everyone else, nobody could be singled out as different. Even from my youthful point of view, it seemed an incredibly naive notion. The kingdoms, though ruled by Dragon and their descendants, were not united.

Azrael Westwych was about to change that. The first Dragon Kingdom was being born. Azrael, King of Sendren-Highcliff, Duke of Beechwood, was about to marry for the second time, thanks to a quickie divorce aided by his ex-wife's adulterous liaison with me, something I did at the king's request. He would wed the full-blood Dragon queen, Lilith of Redoubt, adding elite Dragon soldiers and the prosperous Kingdom of Redoubt to his fledgling empire.

Azrael would be King of Sendren-Highcliff-Redoubt, or whatever they decided to call it. The Tri-Kingdom? If all went according to his plans, the name would change again before they had time to update the notepaper, as the rest of the old kingdoms became part of his new Dragon Kingdom. He already had agreement in principle for many more kingdoms to be incorporated. The kings and queens of the old kingdoms would become dukes and duchesses in Azrael's new creation, providing he garnered Dragon's assistance to end the war against Sriama in the north. He would be king of all the lands where Dragon first interbred with Man, so they could stand against their common enemy, the northern nation of Sriama.

After this amalgamation I would still be Duke of Starshore, the title I'd been given for saving Azrael's life when we were both sixteen.

#### ****

Some people called me the notorious Duke of Starshore, but the notorious part was just my reputation, which fluctuated between good and bad depending on who you talked to and whether they thought being lucky and getting laid a lot was wonderful or questionable.

Just over three months ago I came back from the war. Somehow alive, somehow released with an honourable discharge and a fistful of medals - most of them for good attendance - I was only recently home in Sendren, though not necessarily safe. People wanted me dead or worse. Despite being barely twenty-one, I was longing for peace in my perfect life, admittedly with good food and as much sex as possible. For that, especially providing I didn't ever have to go to war again, I'd be a good duke. I'd open fetes and give away scholarships until the cows came home.

I once lived with a cow. They might be early risers but they trot home by dark and any attempts to kill people are not usually aided by any kind of hand- or hoof-held weapons. I probably should note it was not actual shared accommodation with the cow. I just lived on a farm until I was nearly sixteen. The cow lived outside or in the barn.

However, in my present day, there were some rather pressing problems to address - including those gifts I'd developed - as two of my lovers were pregnant, and the king was in love with me. Yes, I said the king. Azrael was my best friend, was mostly gay, fell in love with me when we were both fifteen. Me, I wasn't gay. I was omnisexual, meaning I'd try almost anyone at least once. I tried the now-king when we were both boys and Azrael's never let me forget it.

As for the women, well, there's no denying that two pregnant women begins to look less like an accident and more like stupidity. It certainly indicated that perhaps I wasn't paying attention to the important things, like condoms. Twice in my life I'd gone bare, and the results might be world-shaking.

To complicate matters, one of the pregnant women could read my mind. It was one of the gifts I'd developed and I'd been telepathically broadcasting my thoughts to any passing telepath, unfortunately uncontrollably so. Not everyone could read thoughts. Lilith, who I'd got pregnant, was a telepath. She could read my mind like you're reading this book. Only with more footnotes.

I left Court, pretending I'd been summoned on a trip south by my Dragon grandmother, Daeva Casterton. While travelling to and staying with her, I was given a master class in both flying and controlling my involuntary telepathy by the Dragon Stefan. He and I then headed back to Sendren, to see how his son and my friend, the First Azrael, was handling being king. Especially, how he was handling being engaged to my one-time lover, now pregnant to me, Stefan's 'sister' of several thousand years, the Dragon queen, Lilith of Redoubt. The Only.

Aye, you have it right, Lilith was about to marry my friend and king, Azrael. He was mildly bisexual and able to do a woman, at least for the sake of the kingdom having an heir. And yes, it was Azrael, my friend who was in love with me, who was also the First Azrael, the King of Sendren-Whatever-It-Was.

My own Duchy of Starshore was part of Sendren and I was sworn to be loyal to Azrael, both by my own will, and by oaths I'd taken to him and to his grandfather.

#### ****

Being able to transform into a winged and scaled warrior was the other gift I'd developed, one I welcomed, but I needed training with the wings part. I could change back to human shape, or I might not have been so keen. After finding out about the pregnancies and the mind-reading, I decided disappearing for a few weeks was the best option.

There is no shame in running away. Running away was why I transferred to the scouts after a stint in the lancers, for the joy in doing what I'd longed to do during all those cavalry charges. To be able to spot a Sriaman, look around carefully in case there were more, then flee to tell someone with more marks on his shoulders about it.

The only other way I knew how to deal with enemies was to kill them, something else I did a lot of in the army – both in the lancers and in the scouts - and that wasn't an option. Not with Lilith and Azrael. In my own way I loved them both. Besides, I honestly believed in Azrael and in his ability to do the job of king, whether for Sendren or all the old kingdoms. I'd just hide out until I learned how to stop Lilith reading my mind. Azrael would get over me, especially with his new wife to keep him busy. I could vouch for her abilities in that area. Quite by accident I'd bedded both his wives before he married them. Azrael didn't mind a woman for a change, or was at least adept at faking an interest, though he really needed a man there to make it perfect.

Lilith was beautiful, a fine conversationalist and master strategist who enjoyed the discussion of matters of state. She could tear apart most men while in human form, let alone when she was dragon-shape. A perfect bodyguard-cum-queen for Azrael, providing she didn't bite his head off after their first mating. She was the scariest person I ever met, man, woman or dragon. She terrified me and, if I'm honest, I wanted her more than I could bear. That might have been because she put all those nude pictures of us having fun into my mind. Now she was marrying Azrael and I wanted free of obsession, to go back to my lovely ducal estates, to re-inhabit my perfect life, and get some sleep.

Stefan was like Lilith, pure Dragon and an adept at shape-changing. He currently looked like a fit, well-built man of about forty, maybe younger, but he was much older than that. Black hair, so dark it almost had a touch of blue, like a bird's wing, dark blue eyes, the iris scattered with a diamond-like glitter. That Westwych colouring, though not all were tall and well-built, some were stocky and could run to fat.

Stefan could change shape into more than just man or dragon, he could also be a fat old woman without cat's eyes. He'd masqueraded as Azrael's old nanny, Nanny Black, since Azrael was born. I had just discovered the subterfuge but Azrael didn't know. Stefan was also Azrael's real father, which Azrael did now know, but I also knew before he did. It was still a secret to most of the kingdom, and it had to stay that way. It seemed to happen a lot, me carrying secrets for Stefan.

To my sorrow, we'd received word that old King Theo was dead. He had been ill and already abdicated, so it wasn't unexpected, but still I was sad. He was Azrael's grandfather, at least he was if we pretended Stefan wasn't Azrael's father. My friend Azrael was a cuckoo, raised as Theo's grandson, but half-Dragon.

I think that's the story so far in a nutshell. Or in a very tight and rather incestuous triangle. It's the basics of what you need to know.

As this book begins Azrael and I were both twenty-one and I'd just saved his life again, after his supposed half-brother - Young Perry, disgraced former Crown Prince of Sendren - had tried to kill us both and nearly succeeded, with Azrael's mother Saraia, the Princess Royal, still in hospital after being caught up in the attempted regicide.

I was on my way to back from a visit to my grandmother, travelling in dragon-shape, with wings. Stefan flew with me.

#### ****

## Chapter 2 – A Small Victory

It was autumn. Stefan and I flew northeast and down out of the mountains, where it had been unseasonably fine, if cold. As we flew over the central plateau and Highcliff, the kingdom-next-door that was already part of Azrael's fledgling empire, snow began falling.

By the time we reached Sendren, his first kingdom, the World seemed covered in white, as if Galaia herself mourned old King Theo's passing. Every town and village was hung with white bunting, every farm gate had a white ribbon tied to it, as did every man, woman, and child.

With the snow, every tree was also frosted and rimed, the countryside blanketed. Theo had been king for over forty years, but there was a new king now. The month's mourning was nearly up, then the new king would marry.

We reached the capital, Peterhaven, where we were told Azrael was back in Malion, capital of Highcliff, on a visit to keep an eye on his previous kingdom-by-marriage, across the border we had just over-flown.

Lilith, however, was home alone. My idea of a nightmare, though we arrived late at night and I was spared her presence until the next morning.

I settled back into my quarters next to the king's, greeted by several of the Palace Cats that had, according to my manservant Bryce, the night man, taken to hiding out in the Queens Mews in order to avoid being taken back to the Palace Cattery at night. Supposed to keep the citadel free from vermin, like all cats, they spent their time sleeping in warm places and cadging food, though they'd also hunt on occasion.

Often they hunted people, though not to my knowledge to the death, more to keep in practice. One of my earliest memories of the citadel was one of them neatly taking down one of the many mad-but-not-dangerous citadel residents, with a smart tackle to the back of the knees. Made me wonder what the creatures were capable of taking down, if they could do a man.

#### ****

The next morning, after sparring and a run back, I was feeling virtuous and it was barely breakfast-time. Stefan and I were discussing riding, should we do it before or after food? I had voted for coffee, first, at least. Bernard just had time to shout,

"Her Majesty, Queen of Redoubt!" as she and her entourage swept into my rooms, almost mowing Bernard down.

Stefan bolted through the nearest door, which led into my bedroom, but I was lying on the window-seat. I did make it to my feet, pretended to be getting up to greet her and bowed.

"Polo," said Lilith, sweeping close, exuding charm, pleasant scents, and pleasure at my return. I was over six feet tall, she was nearly eye to eye with me. Beautiful eyes, the green iris ringed with opalescent blue. The pupils had always been vertical, like a cat's, but today they were round, and she looked almost human. Her red hair was up, she was dressed for riding in shirt, breeches and boots, a jacket slung across her shoulders, and I confess, my first thought was how gorgeous she was. My second was that I hoped she didn't get my mind open.

"Your Majesty," I said with a smile. I played the perfect courtier as she kissed my cheek and made introductions. We chatted a bit, I offered refreshments, and her entourage all paused for her answer, with Bernard waiting for orders. Lilith said,

"Not now, I have a dress fitting and need a shower first. The wedding's in a week, we'd better get on." Everyone, released, moved off. I bowed and scraped until they all left then collapsed back on the window-seat. Bernard went for coffee and I got up, to find Stefan in my dressing room, dozing on a couch.

"Sorry," he said, stretching, and running a hand through his black hair, his blue eyes innocent, "I really wasn't in the mood for Lilith."

"For someone as old as you are," I said, "you move like greased bloody lightning. I didn't get a chance to escape. Still, I think it was alright." I looked at myself in the mirror. Despite it being horribly early, something that didn't agree with me, as I found mornings difficult – I was never really awake until at least noon - I didn't look too untidy, my own blonde hair still too short to misbehave.

"Aye," said Stefan, "I thought you did very well, not a trace of thought. Lilith was quite confused. I could hear it in her voice." We were in the Queen's Mews, so named despite no queen having lived in that part of the palatial citadel for hundreds of years. Azrael's suite was officially next-door to mine, but between us was a servant station with a tiny kitchen for coffee and tea, or almost anything one liked.

Since Azrael's coronation it was always stuffed all kinds of luxuries meant for His Majesty. I reflected that might be why the cats were moving in, as the amount of cream involved was a cat-magnet, plus there were plenty of savoury and meat dishes. Naturally, Bernard and I, together with Bryce, the night man, could liberate the king's treats on behalf of the common people – me being half-peasant - then eat them. A perk of our position.

Bernard returned with coffee, the king's best mindweed, a variety of small pies and sandwiches, then went back for another tray, this one with several kinds of sweet and savoury breads with assorted butters, jams and marmalades, and another servant followed him in with a further tray of cakes, sweet biscuits, and chocolates. I took possession of coffee and a pipe while deciding which delicacy to eat first.

"Did any of Herself's Hangers On actually tread on you, Bernard?" I said.

"Not me, Your Grace. I've learned to keep my toes out of the way when the Blood are on the move. Though that lot were Dragon to the last man, and woman, I'd imagine." Stefan looked at Bernard, who looked blandly back. Bernard was a peasant, and so allowed to hold the Blood in contempt. Usually though, he was just amused.

"Aye," I said, "seemed so to me." They smelled that way, but I didn't mention that. My heightened sense of smell made it obvious. The scent of Dragon was unnoticeable in normal circumstances, like the scent of human or Blood, providing they washed. It wasn't bad, just different.

"The night you left for the south, Your Grace," said Bernard, checking a notebook, "a young lass turned up, said she was supposed to meet you." I winced, pretty sure I knew who it was.

"Maggie Hunter?"

"That's the one, Your Grace, and as you'd left suddenly to visit your grandmother after a message from your mother, with no time to prepare, I thought it best to tell her exactly that. Everyone understands family emergencies. Said I'd remind you of the missed appointment when you returned. I'm reminding you."

"Thank you, Bernard. I wrote to her from Cragleas, to apologise." I checked my own notebook and remembered something else. "Can you contact Hiram Westwych, please?" – that was the former Royal Artist, who was doing a year in residence at Starshore – "I want to send my sergeant some sketches of the new painting of Hiram's. The one near the breakfast room."

"The one called _I'm Here_?" said Bernard. I nodded. It was a massive larger-than-life painting of me, winning my Red Dragon for bravery, when I saved the sarge.

I thought he'd get a laugh out of it. And Hiram had painted him slimmer than life, so it would make a nice present. It showed me on my horse Magpie, taunting a crowd of angry Sriamans. I had my helmet off and was armed with a lance. In reality, I'd kept my helmet firmly on, and had lost my lance in a Sriaman before I rescued the sarge.

Next to that painting was another of me, this time on my horse Fire, bringing home another sergeant, this one dead behind my saddle, his lame horse limping after us. The incident happened on the last day I spent in the army, and Hiram had actually witnessed the event. The soldiers lining up, saying the Prayer for the Dead as I rode between them through the gate of the fort.

The painting was called _None Left Behind_. It wasn't true. I brought Jansen back that day, but we did leave men behind. There were so many graves in the border country that I had sometimes imagined a farmer in the future ploughing the land, finding more bones than soil turned up in each furrow.

Once I'd eaten, followed by a soak in the Palace Baths, I decided to beat a strategic retreat to the Duchy of Starshore for the week. Stefan came with me.

It was good that I could withstand Lilith, but even better, I would bond with my people and make sure they knew I was spending time in the duchy. My staff had studied public relations while I was in the Army, and apparently being seen to do the right thing was terribly important.

#### ****

## Chapter 3 – Retreat to Starshore

The Great Star Lake was a salty inlet of the Western Ocean, and on its southwestern shore was Port Azrael, the capital of the Duchy of Starshore. It was about three hours from the capital along a fast highway. We took a coach.

My duchy was warmer than Peterhaven, just enough that there was no snow and the ground was soft enough for gallops. Nearly at the port, at a new Pesertine stud farm I'd founded - Pesertine was the breed favoured for warhorses, big, fast, and fearless - we visited my own horses, the ones that were my mounts during the war. I wanted to take them with us to my castle at Port Azrael. We let the coach take our luggage, and collected more horses for Ross and the others to ride.

After the weeks at Grandmama's it was strange to have an entourage again, but now I was back in Sendren I was at risk of assassination, so the bodyguards were with me. The men hung back, letting Stefan and I chat. I introduced Stefan to Magpie, one of my war mounts. The big black-and-white stallion was very pleased to see us. I went into his stable for some affection and to clip a lead rope to his halter. Once Magpie had snorted on me, he checked my pockets looking for something to eat. A favourite on the stud farm, he was amiable with grooms and anyone who wished to adore him, but getting on his back was more of a lottery, though he wasn't vicious. On the battlefield he was different. The stallion killed more men than I did by a factor of at least four to one, despite me having a third more time in the army.

"Beautiful creature," Stefan said. Magpie nickered, and tossed his head as if acknowledging the compliment. I laughed.

"He's convinced everyone's here to admire him. Cute since a foal and sure nobody can resist him." Stefan smiled.

"Like cats," he said, "horses have no truck with false modesty." I led Magpie out of the stable and he made a rumbling sound as he walked along with us, then began nosing at Stefan's pockets. "Tell him I won't taste good."

"Hey," I said to the horse, "don't eat my friends." To Stefan I said, "He's saved my life so many times. Mind you, they all did. I was lucky, only lost one horse. Poor Turk. Magpie was a present from Theo for my sixteenth."

"I was there," said Stefan, and I remembered, though I hadn't known him in this body, he was at the citadel as Nanny Black. Stefan's abilities in shape changing had been honed by three thousand years of experience.

"Of course," I said, "this one, I think he's a bit crazy. He used to run towards the enemy." Stefan nodded, slapping the stallion's shoulder.

"All horses are crazy. Herd animals are always likely to go insane." Magpie snorted, making us both laugh.

"I thought the saying was all women are crazy?" I said. Stefan shrugged.

"Probably all people. And all horses. At any rate they're all likely to go crazy."

"I'm just back from the war," I said, as Magpie suddenly raised his head, listening to something we couldn't hear. I had to stop myself from going to full alert, as I would have only a few months ago, knowing my horse's ears were better than mine, and I needed to find out what he could hear. "I'm probably completely insane."

We next visited Fire, a chestnut, and Magpie's full brother, as Stefan was going to ride him. We led the horses to the tack room. Being a doctor, Stefan couldn't just leave my joke alone.

"Are you concerned over your sanity?"

"Concerned?" I said thoughtfully. "More resigned. I've been seeing ghosts since I was fifteen."

"Did you enjoy the killing?" he said. I laughed and shook my head.

"Not that I noticed." I went into the tack room and came out with a saddle and sheepskin on each arm. I put a sheepskin on Fire and the other on Magpie, then the saddles, not done up, and went back in for bridles.

"What did you notice?" Stefan said, as I began bridling each of them, mindlessly tacking up. Working with my horses was a favourite meditation, whether riding or round the stables. I reached under Fire's belly for the girth.

"I noticed that if the enemy died, I lived," I said and pulled the girth up. "I enjoy living. I liked being good enough to survive, then polishing my skills until I was better." Fire exhaled and I could do the last two holes. He was predictable. "And I could continue to enjoy living," I said. Stefan nodded, stroking Magpie's nose. I ran my fingers under the girth then lifted each of Fire's forefeet to make sure the skin wasn't caught.

"What about the lads you killed?"

"I don't think it bothers me." I shrugged and took the other saddle. "I'd already killed before I joined the army. You remember those boys at the Military Guild, the ones paid to attack me?" Stefan nodded. He'd been the one who came to me in hospital, helped me through healing, one of the several Dragon who'd saved me, during my various adventures with how sick or injured a person can get without dying.

I began the same girthing process with Magpie, only with him a light cuff to the stomach was required before he'd let his breath out. Fire was angling his head so that Stefan could scratch round his ears. Both horses had him pinned, demanding affection. "I needed to survive," I said. "The enemy had free will, they could have run away. I would have, if I was a runner." Stefan nodded.

"Do you ever run after anything?" he said suddenly. I laughed.

"You've seen me. I work out and spar, hard. I took up running while I was at the Guild, and most of the time I was in the army. While I was down in Cragleas with you, most mornings I went to Uncle Seb's for sparring, then ran back. I don't like it, but it's part of being fit." I set the stirrups. Fingertips to the top of the leathers, yank the stirrup iron down into my armpit, there was the spot. Thumb into the leather to make the prong of the buckle seat in. Flick everything back into place, pulling the iron to the end of the leather. "If you mean you think I'm lazy, I work hard at everything I do. I did very well in the army and before that at the guilds."

"You're very good at getting your work done in time to take time off," said Stefan. I laughed again.

"Aye, I am, but I like to be good at what I do. And it's a myth I've had it easy." I stroked Magpie's nose as I moved round to do his other side. "I've been lucky," I said across the stallion's withers. "Can't deny that."

"Very lucky," said Stefan.

"I'd be an idiot to pretend otherwise. I'm also acutely aware that luck gave me money to cushion myself from the worst of the stupid choices I made. The simple fact of my mother being distantly related to a number of kings has made my idiocy so much easier to bear." Stefan smiled. I came back round the horse and looked towards the bodyguards, who were all mounted up. Everyone seemed ready. I gave Stefan a leg-up, then mounted myself before continuing the conversation. "All because I saved my friend from a dragon. Pure bloody chance. If my friend hadn't been a king's grandson or if the dragon hadn't let go, it might not have turned out so well for me. And if Dragon hadn't turned up afterwards to save me, and teach me how to save myself, I wouldn't be here."

"Aye," Stefan said, checking his own stirrups. He had light hands, which I'd been counting on, him being a surgeon. I wouldn't let just anyone ride my warhorses.

"I suppose what I mean," I said to him as we began to move off, "is that I'm just an ordinary person who got lucky. I worked hard to maximise the luck." He shook his head.

"Don't forget you're gifted," he said, "though you don't seem to realise how much. Interesting. You do understand you're going to keep getting a heightening of extra-sensory abilities as you mature?" Despite the obvious, I hadn't realised what was going on. I felt as though I'd been struck.

"Really?" I said, and he nodded. "Oh."

"The more you shape-change," said Stefan, "the more your extra-senses are likely to develop." I sighed.

"That's something to look forward to." He laughed. Behind him I could see Ross, listening with interest, as were a number of the others. Ross was riding Dream, a handy big brown stallion, my other war mount.

"You're so young," said Stefan. "And such an idiot." The ducal guard all snorted with laughter.

From Stefan's viewpoint, I supposed I was indeed a young idiot. I wondered what it was like from his viewpoint, after millennia of living and, one hoped, learning. To know so much yet to still pass for a man I might walk past in the street. Or a woman. "Come on," said Stefan in a kind tone, "let's get the wind in our hair." We were on the right horses to do that.

"You like some jumping?" I said. He nodded.

"Aye, I can do a five."

"Excellent," I said, "they both love jumping." The track led into duchy forests bordering duchy farmland and eventually to my castle at Port Azrael. I felt I'd recovered my perfect life, after nearly losing it through signing into the army. Though technically the Kingdom of Sendren owned the duchy and I was simply a steward, unable to sell any part of it, on the bright side - providing I didn't destroy my lands, something the king could take me to task over - I was able to rent or utilise the duchy in profitable ways. I was, quite simply, immensely rich. Once upon a time, all I'd wanted was books to read and enough money to keep my beautiful horse, so I really did know how lucky I was.

The horses were pleased to be out, bouncing along with heads bobbing and ears pricked. I listened to their hooves thudding on the sandy track. Was the sound of a horse moving, of hooves and snorts, with the chink of metal and the creak of saddlery, the best sound in the World? Life on the stud agreed with the stallions, and both were siring fine foals, some of Magpie's oldest past four now. We rode out past a group of weaned colts, and like a proud father, I pointed out progeny. The youngsters would be trained to halter and bit, to harness and saddle, then like all the young men, Blood, Dragon or human, the most promising would go to war. I bred horses for the war machine to consume, the way it nearly consumed me.

"I don't think I like the way the world works," I said aloud, idly plaiting a hank of Magpie's mane.

"What do you mean?" Stefan said. I explained. "I come from a tribe of mercenaries," he said when I finished. "Dragon spent twenty centuries looking for peace, and still haven't found it. Not even within the Tribe. I think the urge to fight with one another is as ingrained in humanity and their descendants as the urge to have sex." I laughed.

"Aye," I said, "people talk about peace, and I wonder how they can imagine that people will ever find that." He smiled.

"And on that happy note," he said, pointing to a sign, "I see there's a Five marked." The number was a cavalry rating. Five meant a cross-country trail with jumps designed to be taken at speed and test an advanced rider's limits, whereas One was suitable for novices, no more than some small logs any pony could step over, always an alternative route past each little jump. Fire was getting excited, stamping and propping. "If this horse of yours kills me," said Stefan, "tell them my will is in my desk in Bronlea." Magpie danced too, trying to snatch the bit.

"You're assuming this crazy horse is going to let me live," I said.

#### ****

The horses thought it one of the best ways to spend their time, racing each other over big jumps, moving at a steady hand-gallop along the wide paths that led through the forest, popping over deadfalls carefully arranged to provide decent jumping for those who liked it. The thrill of taking a horse over obstacles at speed was edged with terror, and soon wiped my mind of everything but the exhilarating moment.

We pulled up to a walk, the horses fighting for a few moments before giving in. The bodyguards arrived, everyone still on their horses, which wasn't always how we finished a Five. We reached the head of a big avenue of trees, a clear flat racetrack, and the horses wanted to go. We were nearly at Port Azrael, the castle rising on the skyline. Thanks to the Great Star Lake just the other side of the castle, the weather was milder than Peterhaven. The capital was only a few hours away but a thousand feet higher, with no tidal saltwater lake to ease the cold.

"Galaia preserve me," I said, heart thumping in my chest, "are we all still alive?" Stefan was laughing.

"About to pass out," he said, "but aye, alive for now."

"They're both even bolder than they were," I said. "Improving with age. Tell you what, Fire seems to like you and I don't know which of these is faster on the flat. Want to have a race?"

"Ten golds says Fire's faster," said Stefan. It was two-and-a-half years or so wages for a peasant. The bodyguards did a collective eye-roll at the amount. I still knew how much things cost and wasn't used to wealth, always translating it back into the language of the commoners. However, I was also pretty sure Magpie could beat his brother.

"Aye," I said, grinning, and pushed Magpie up to the side of the chestnut. I offered my hand. "Deal it is." Yes, gambling's a trap. I fell for the notion of taking coin from the upper classes, something that appealed to my peasant half. We picked a tree as our finish marker, and some of the bodyguards headed for it to be judges, having their own race on the way. Others were checking for anyone untoward hidden in the big trees of the avenue.

The start was even, neither horse losing time as they sprang forward. Magpie hit his impossibly fast gallop in a few strides. Unfortunately, his full brother did too. We charged towards the tree, the horses' hooves cutting up divots that flew up behind us. Right at the finish, Fire, the chestnut traitor, put his nose in front, enough to be obvious. I owed Stefan ten golds.

#### ****

Dr Westwych insisted on using a portion of his winnings to buy us dinner. We went to eat with people who were staying at the castle, my own little Ducal Court of Hangers On. This comprised an ever-changing group of various relations, friends, and acquaintances who'd decided to drop in. And those visiting for sex, coin, or advancement. I was pleased to hear Hiram Westwych, my new artist-in-residence, had arrived with his boyfriend, and that he was doing a small copy of ' _I'm Here_ ' in oils to send to the sarge.

The party that night was thirty plus bodyguards, and as it was the weekend it took us ages to get food because I wouldn't hear of anyone being bumped out of their seats for my sake. Starshore was busy with tourists, mostly in the neighbourhood for the Royal Wedding. Even if I had thought of using my influence, Archie and his lovely wife Belinda were with us, and Archie – formerly a bodyguard, who had taken charge of my public relations, having been banned by Belinda from risking his life to protect me - reminded me that my image would be harmed if I jumped the queue.

Despite the wait it was a good night, and especially pleasant to catch up with Belinda again, as I hadn't had time for a good conversation with her for literally years, but I was tired by the end. Not long after we returned went to bed, sleeping until nearly lunchtime the next day.

#### ****

There was very little effort involved in being duke. During the year I financed various celebrations and provided free food, mindweed, and alcohol. There were always awards to be given for something, and people liked it if the duke was there, but failing that I paid for good prizes, so competition for the various 'best of show' and 'grand champion' rosettes, ribbons, and cups was fierce. A coin prize went with most wins, adding to the competitive spirit.

The spies told me the seasonal fairs and agricultural shows were so well received that I could probably get away with eating a few babies in the Port Azrael town square before the Starshore people would revolt or even start complaining loudly. Instead I donated ponies for children to learn to ride on, and books so they could learn to read, offered coin for good works and attended social events.

Like all education in Sendren and the old Kingdoms, education was free but books weren't. There were always costs for every student, especially those at universities who needed to live away from their parents. The duke wanted every Starshore child to go to a guild if they wanted to. I financed universal scholarships to pay student expenses at the various guilds. The Duchy could afford it and reaped the benefit of educated and skilled people. I had an unexpectedly easy time, becoming wealthy just before starting at the Military Guild, so able to afford all I needed, but not everyone was that lucky.

#### ****

## Chapter 4 - Hypnosis and Profiteroles

There was another day of peace before a messenger arrived. We were to go to Peterhaven for the first wedding rehearsals. I was best man and as Azrael's supposed father was dead and his mother Saraia still in hospital, Stefan was to be proxy father of the groom. I went to tell Stefan we were summoned.

"Ah well," said Stefan, looking philosophical, "it's been pleasant."

"Aye," I said, "I'm not sure I thanked you enough for insisting I go to Cragleas. It's good to feel safe inside my own head." He smiled.

"No thanks required. I'm quite relieved by the way, over you outing Nanny Black. I don't have to be her any more."

"Nanny Black is going to disappear?" I said.

"Perhaps she should pass away," Stefan said, sounding thoughtful, "while visiting one of her old friends in Cragleas, where she's currently on holiday. Seems easier than trying to explain to Azrael that his mother and I couldn't be together or bring him up together any other way. I think it might upset him too much if I told him." I shook my head.

"I think you're making a mistake." Stefan, as he'd done before, spoke gently until I found myself agreeing to keep his secret a while longer. Nicely undefined, 'a while longer'.

Of course, the bastard had hypnotised me, again. Hypnosis can't make you do what you don't want to, and as I didn't want to be the bearer of that bit of news it was quite easy for Stefan to influence me. It was so long since anyone had done it that I'd forgotten what it was like.

As I felt the lovely, relaxed post-hypnosis sensation I remembered, and resolved not to keep his secret. Then I changed shape to fly to Peterhaven and forgot my resolution. Pain has a way of wiping memory, and changing shape hurt.

On the way back to the capital, I puzzled over what kind of wedding speech I should make as best man. It was traditional to be contentious and make sexual jokes, but my scope was limited, as Azrael had suggested I refrain from subjects like the bride's age, my affair with her, or his sexuality. I thought over my relationship with the king. From our first meeting in the Beech Wood Library, when he pretended to be a nobody like me, discovering a shared liking for books and mindweed, then both of us sent to the citadel and me finding my friend was a prince.

Maybe I could use that as that basis of my speech. Friendship. Leave myself out of it, leave sex out of it, and put the focus on the brave young king. Who kindly made sure I had a horse when I first arrived at Court and had been my steadfast friend ever since.

That was Azrael, what could I say about Lilith? As was standard, I would say how lucky he was. Besides, by the time I made the speech they would be married. It would be too late to scream a last warning, perhaps whilst in dragon form and clinging to the ceiling of the ballroom, as any decent friend should. However, I'd done what I could. I wasn't going to try stopping him again before the wedding.

Under no illusions, I realised that of all the people he knew, Azrael probably loved me best. If I asked for something in his power to give, it would be mine. However, he wanted his Dragon Kingdom even more than he wanted me. Without marrying Lilith, he couldn't have the kingdom. I could see how there was no real choice for him. Other than perhaps the choice presented in the question, did he want to rule the world? Like the boy-king Alexander, who we'd read about in the library at the Military Guild, Azrael's only answer would be yes.

None of this would be mentioned in my speech. My speech would say the king was wonderful, the queen was too. Weren't they lucky, weren't we, and wasn't I to know them both? I mentally scratched that, "knowing" was too much of a double-entendre. I'd use "friend" and hope it didn't sound like a euphemism. To end the most boring best man speech in history, I would add something about how lucky we Sendrenese were that Redoubt was joining Sendren-Highcliff in an alliance to benefit all the kingdoms.

That was the sort of thing. Diplomatic. Kind. Smarmy. Nanny Black had named the Royal Court the Hangers On, and just like a good Hanger On, I'd lie through my teeth. I must also check the kingdom name, though I was pretty sure it was Sendren-Highcliff. But it might be Highcliff-Sendren.

In the end it didn't matter at all. I didn't get to give the speech.

#### ****

The week was quite tense. Once she realised I'd found out how to keep my mind locked, Lilith was snappy. For myself, I thought her attitude outrageous. She was like the worst kind of cheat who, when caught out, sulks and plots further rather than just stopping cheating.

The day after the first wedding rehearsal, I had done my workouts, been riding – just in the grounds of the citadel, the weather being foul enough that I didn't fancy outside the walls - and was hiding on the window-seat in my bedroom, an excellent vantage point. Some of the Palace Cats, large black creatures with golden eyes, were sitting with me, one actually on me. I liked cats and they knew it. The view looked across the new fort, the old fort, then the city, and out into the countryside along various valleys. That day the valleys were invisible, the frozen hillsides strung with mist, the clouds so low they almost touched the citadel's towers. Bernard came in and asked if I wanted coffee.

"Thanks, Bernard, I will. Don't really want to face morning tea and all the Hangers On." I moved the cat off my lap. It went limp for a moment, not wanting to move, then disgruntled, allowed me to settle it next to me.

"I have a confession, Your Grace, I was just next door and took the opportunity to liberate the choux pastries." I pretended to solemnity.

"All of them, Bernard? Are we still saving His Majesty from confectioner's custard?" Bernard nodded.

"Aye, Your Grace. If you don't tell the king, I'll share them with you. Though we'll have to get the cats out of here. They get demented over any cream." I agreed to move the cats, and it turned out he had a tray and a platter of pastries just outside the door. Once we'd cleaned me and the window-seat of cat hair, I insisted he sit with me.

"Just for morning tea," I said, when he said no, "so I have someone to talk to. Pretend you're doing me a favour. Because you are."

#### ****

In the end Bernard accepted neutral ground, the window-seat in the bedroom with a table next to it holding his booty of pastries, coffee for us both, and of course my pipe. We scoffed pastries, him neatly, me trying not to get chocolate and custard all over me and failing. Bernard caught me up on what was what. It seemed Stefan was not welcome at the wedding, at least from Lilith's viewpoint.

"The gossip says he's an old flame of hers, Your Grace, so you can understand her not wanting him as the senior party on the groom's side." I nodded, but couldn't mention Azrael's real parentage and that being another reason for her to be annoyed, as Stefan had fathered Azrael without any say-so from the Dragon tribe. I wondered what the commoners would think if they knew Azrael was not his father's son. They were very tolerant, but a king who wasn't even closely related to his own father might exasperate even Bernard's good nature. Instead I said,

"With Dragon's lifespan, Bernard, you'd think they'd be over all the petty emotional baggage." He smiled.

"You would indeed. Anyone would think they're human." We had a giggle. "Had you heard, Your Grace," Bernard went on, "Herself also wants you replaced? Something about you being an old flame too. One where the ashes have barely grown cold." I hadn't realised our very brief fling was common knowledge.

"Bugger," I said, "do people know about that?" Bernard nodded.

"You know how it is, Your Grace, you're a folk hero. People enjoy hearing about who you've tumbled and what you like to eat for breakfast."

"They've never asked what I like for breakfast." Bernard pretended to be taking notes.

"Do you have a preference, Your Grace? Porridge, toast, eggs? Perhaps I could spread the news." I pretended to be serious. Then I realised I did have a favourite breakfast.

"Breakfasts here at the citadel. That great buffet of possibility is my favourite. Best way to start the day. Dishes I'd only read about in books before I came here. I can be sophisticated, decadent, or revert to my childhood."

"You know, Your Grace, I'll second those sentiments." He smiled. "Kedgeree."

"Aye," I said, laughing, "kedgeree is exactly what I was thinking of. It was something they always had for breakfast in books about the west. I didn't know it had fish in it. Or rice. Was quite a shock the first time, but I did like it. Ah well, I'm not too bothered over not being best man. Lets me off hours of standing about wearing uncomfortable clothes. Any news on which poor victim Herself has selected to replace me?"

"I believe the king's current friend, Your Grace." Bernard was suddenly vague and pretending a need to smooth the cushions near him. I frowned.

While I thought about it, Bernard selected and ate a profiterole, looking innocent. It's damn hard to eat a chocolate-dipped custard-filled profiterole and look innocent, even an honest man looks guilty. It's something about the sumptuous and sticky combination of chocolate-dipped choux pastry and custard. I noted there were some white chocolate ones, which might be filled with caramel custard. I cracked. Reached for them. One bite and to my surprise, raspberry custard! "They're good," he said, "aren't they? The raspberry with the white chocolate, lovely."

"They are," I said, slightly muffled by custard. I swallowed. "Bernard, stop gossiping in circles. Say it out before I go crazy, who's the king's current friend?" Bernard gave me a reproving look. I was taking the fun out of the whole game. He sighed and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"Indigo Sutherland," he said, "Lord of wherever he is."

"Somewhere in Panswell," I said, "though I think he's exiled from there. You did say he was Azrael's current friend?" Bernard was looking innocent again.

"Aye, Your Grace." I frowned. Suddenly I realised what I was all those years. The king's friend. I never realised the implications, possibly because I wasn't fulfilling all the requirements.

"That's code, isn't it?" I said. "For whoever's sucking His Majesty's cock?" Bernard looked pained. "Sorry," I said, "but you won't say it straight out, so someone has to. I want to be sure I know what you mean."

"Aye, Your Grace." Bernard was expressionless. He sipped coffee. The man was like a snake. I gave him a stern look.

"Aye to what? That the king has a male lover? Or it's Indigo?"

"Indigo," said Bernard, sounding resigned to my lack of ability to grasp the simplest things, "is the king's lover, aye."

He was cranky until he'd eaten another profiterole. I was glad Bernard stayed and had tea with me. It also meant I was forewarned, because within the hour Azrael asked me to forgo the pleasure of being best man.

The bodyguards had arrived and were suggesting a walk around the grounds to see if there were any lasses - come in from the other kingdoms for the wedding - who might be interesting, as Ross put it. Several of the Palace Cats were back sitting on the window-seat, staring out at the cold day, possibly wondering if it was worth a trip to the kitchens to beg treats, one of their favourite activities. One of them allowed me to stroke it, which I did for a while, then Bernard had to brush the excess fur off my jacket. They were shedding with the change of seasons, at the same time their coats were bulking up for winter. It looked like being a hard one.

#### ****

## Chapter 5 - Invasion

Before we could give ourselves to a hedonistic morning of looking for women we wanted to have sex with, the king arrived by himself, or as solo as he ever was, with a squad of his own bodyguards captained by Fenric. My bodyguards were already on their feet. I smiled as Azrael came in and raised my eyebrows just a little, to signify my offer to leap out of the chair and bow if it made the king feel better.

"Do not get up or bow," Azrael said, "and do not call me sire. Any of you. Especially don't call me Your Majesty." I laughed and subsided back into my chair.

"A good morning so far, Azrael?" I said. He groaned.

"You could say that, I started the day with a formal breakfast. Look, I won't stay, I don't have long."

"Hmm," I said, "everything alright?" From his face it wasn't. He ran a hand through his black hair. His guards didn't look happy either. Fenric was looking more bad-tempered than I'd ever seen him, grey eyes cold, the shower of gold across the grey not warming them at all. I raised my eyebrows slightly to him, as if to ask what was wrong. The big man just rolled his eyes.

"Someone pour the king a coffee," I said, still in my genial about-to-go-woman-watching mood, "maybe with a whiskey in it. Whiskey is good for all kinds of ailments brought on by other people." Well, up to a point, I reflected, thinking of the times I'd overdone it.

"Gods no, no alcohol," Azrael said, before anyone could move, "please. I've already had champagne cocktails at bloody dawn with Cobalt Westwych. I've only just sobered up. I keep having to have drinks with people who want to congratulate me." He sighed. "Polo, I suppose I need to talk to you privately." Everyone filed out as far as the other side of the nearest door, where they no doubt paused to listen.

"I have this problem," Azrael said as the door closed. I laughed.

"Lilith?" I said. The king rolled his eyes and groaned at the mention of his fiancee's name.

"To put it mildly," he said, "there's no pleasing her. I told her you were best man weeks ago, she was fine with it." He rubbed his forehead as though it ached. "Suddenly she's not fine. I didn't know she never liked you." I shrugged. I hadn't known either. "And I had no idea she utterly hates Stefan." I frowned.

"I thought you knew she and Stefan didn't get on?" I said, and he shook his head, looking worried. I shook mine too, laughing.

"Did you really want to be best man?" he said. I shrugged. I hadn't at all, but now felt hurt. Azrael wasn't that bad at reading me.

"Gods, Polo, I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you."

"She probably read your mind," I said, "over what I said, not to marry her." He laughed. "I can teach-" Before I could tell him, there was a pounding on the outside door.

"Emergency! Crown business! Message for the King from the Queen of Redoubt!" It sounded very emphatic because he was panting. Everyone did after running around the citadel and attendant forts. It was a brisk twenty-minute walk just across the main citadel building. The bodyguards said they knew the man, so he was let in.

"No time for lessons," said Azrael, "though I still want them."

"Aye, say when," I said. I was feeling daring and wanted to ask him if he knew Lilith wasn't actually a queen, but the soldier was ushered in and I had to shut up.

"Your Majesty," the man said to Azrael, "your ears only." I smiled, stood up, and withdrew to the next room, joining the bodyguards. I didn't close the door completely on my way.

Eavesdropping is such a tawdry word. We were simply staying in the information loop. I was listening as hard as I could, along with Fenric and most of the others. The messenger's voice was low, and I didn't hear him. We all looked at each other and shrugged.

"She said what?" I heard Azrael say.

"You're to come immediately, sire, or she's calling off the wedding." We outside the door all looked at each other, quietly expressing our surprise.

"Calling it off?" Azrael said, and groaned. "I couldn't be so lucky. Did she say why this time?"

"She's unhappy with her dress, sire." My jaw dropped. Right then there was another banging at the outer door of the suite, and we turned round. Bernard opened the door to find another panting messenger.

"The king," said the man, bent over and wheezing, "please - let him be here. Urgent - message." Bernard let the man in, and I recognised him as one of the citadel guards.

"Rob?" I said, hoping to get in on the gossip, "What's up?"

"Bloody Joban, Polo. They've invaded!" Most of us cursed.

"Galaia preserve us," said Bernard. I banged on the door of the other room and ushered Rob in. We all listened again. As one does. We veterans listened with dour faces. War with Joban? Thanks to our alliances, they wouldn't win. I pretended I wouldn't be expected to fight but knew I would. Gods, I really didn't want to. Did soldiers ever actually want to fight? I remembered some did, as in the other room Azrael sounded excited. I groaned. So did Fenric.

"He thinks he's bloody Alexander," said Fenric. Everyone shook their heads.

"I blame myself," I said, keeping my voice a murmur. "I gave him the bloody book."

"He was already mad for conquest," said Fenric, "long before you both went to the Military Guild." We gave up pretending, banged on the door and went in.

"Polo!" Azrael said. "Joban's invading! We've got a war already!"

"We already had one already," I said, frowning, "in the north. And possibly in the south. Why is Joban invading?"

"Young bloody Perry," said Fenric, "right?"

"Aye," said Rob the messenger, then looked at the king, wondering if he was speaking out of turn. Azrael was good with people, taking the time to be nice, just a little. Niceness from the powerful was so unexpected that most people were softened up. I was.

"It's alright, Rob," said Azrael, "tell us all, everything you know. Plus any gossip you heard on the way. I need to hear it again." Rob smiled and gave the message again.

I watched and listened, pretending it wasn't happening, that the war I escaped hadn't somehow changed shape and followed me home. Like many wars, this one was a family feud. Young Perry, Azrael's supposed half-brother and the former Crown Prince, had been stripped of his place in the succession for trying to sell me into slavery.

Despite Azrael not being able to charge him with kidnapping in Sendren – the crime had been committed in a southern duchy - Perry was found guilty of Sendrenese charges of bribery, gaolbreak, and fleeing custody, for which he got an suspended twelve-month sentence. The guilty verdict was enough to justify him being removed as Crown Prince.

New charges awaited, as more recently Perry was missing, escaped after trying to kill the king, nearly succeeding, and in the process nearly killing me and the king's mother. Young Perry had friends in high places with their eye on controlling the throne. They helped him evade a manhunt and get across Sendren to Joban, where he sought sanctuary with his Aunt Kristen, Queen of Joban. Kristen was the one who'd changed into a small dragon and nearly killed me and Azrael when we were sixteen.

Technically she was also my Aunt Kristen, as any older woman I was related to might be called aunt, but she was Young Perry's actual aunt where I was just a distant cousin. Young Perry was the true heir by blood. Azrael wasn't. Somehow, Perry at least suspected it. He couldn't prove it or I was sure the proof would be public knowledge. As it was, people simply didn't believe that particular rumour Young Perry was trying to spread.

The secret of the king's patrimony was known to his real parents, me, the king himself, and the king's new wife, Lilith, who was rather annoyed with the king's real father, Stefan, over what might be called a bit of freelance genetic experimentation on his part. Dragon interbred with humans and Blood all the time, but I gathered Stefan's kind of interference was usually done according to formulas and Stefan broke strict genealogical protocols. Doing it without approval was against law laid down when Dragon were travelling the stars.

The king had been last to know who his true father was. Galaia only knew what he was going to do when he found out Stefan Westwych, his real father, was also his beloved Nanny Black - who he thought of as an adopted grandmother - and was about to fake her own death.

Azrael would probably have me hung when that story broke. Stefan's hypnotic notion, to not out Nanny just yet, was still holding on. I didn't want to be the one to tell Azrael, that much was plain. Rationalising was something I had a knack for. As the king had been acting crazy before he knew about his parentage, if he found out Nanny Black was Stefan it might make him go over the edge.

Even I had standards. Though liking a quiet life, I was not going to be duke to a mad king bent on taking over the world and I'd promised the old king I wouldn't rise up against Azrael. I didn't want to break that promise so it was in my interests to make sure Azrael's sanity wasn't compromised.

"The King of Joban has Kavar mercenaries," said Rob. "Along with his Jobanese troops. A proper army." That was unexpected. Suddenly we might be in actual danger.

"An army?" said Fenric. Rob nodded.

"Reportedly a battalion." That was nearly fifteen thousand men. Everyone was talking at once, excited and dismayed.

"Uncle Colin," said Azrael, "I haven't seen him since I was about- you know, I don't know if I ever have seen him. He visited when I was born."

"We both met Kristen," I said, moodily rubbing my forearm. If I thought about the time Kristen changed into a dragon and tore my life apart, the old tingles began deep in the bone. It wasn't just me. Azrael rubbed his scarred wrist and grimaced.

"Aye, Polo," he said, "but at the next meeting, you can shape-change too." I was a bit taken aback. Did he seriously expect me to kill his aunt? True, I wanted revenge on Kristen for a long time, but I no longer thought her actions were anything more than panic and self-defence after she changed shape, without even knowing for her it was possible. As little as five years ago, most people thought changing shape was perhaps a myth, at most doable only by the full-blood Dragon.

Besides, killing a civilian, a woman, or a dragon barely knee high to me, and Aunt Kristen was all three, would make me a murderer. Seducing Azrael's wife was one thing, murder was quite another.

Meanwhile, war was inside the kingdom. Azrael knew I wouldn't fight in the north, but I hadn't said I wouldn't fight for Sendren. How could I not? My home kingdom. So instead I said,

"Does anyone know where the invaders are exactly?" The Jobanese had infiltrated the border slightly north and east of Peterhaven, where a highway led straight to the northern highway and rather quickly to the capital. Three hours away? Four? Foot soldiers would take longer. I tried to figure it out but then someone said the eastern highway was hilly and would take horses at least five hours from the border, men would take just over a day, from dawn to after dark.

"How old is this information?" I said, thinking I'd look at it from a scouting perspective.

"Only just over an hour," said Rob, "the Dragon woman who spotted them said she was lucky with the wind, made it back here inside an hour." An hour? Even with a tailwind that didn't seem far. "She did land at the closest Fort, raised the alarm, and brought a message that Fort Adelmar has mobilised, they're marching towards the enemy. They've alerted five other forts," Rob read the names from a list, "to meet the invaders. The garrisons at the Castles Rain, Sidereal, Pawnluck and Frobisher will all send at least a company to meet up with Adelmar."

"Polo," said Azrael, and I had a sinking feeling, "will you check the troop and enemy positions please. I want a Sendrenese point of view."

"Aye sire," I said, "I'll liaise with local military, let them know any intelligence. Be back here tomorrow." I nearly laughed. "What a shame, I'll miss the wedding." He smiled, looking relieved. For my part, I was thinking a look at the enemy forces couldn't be that hard, though missing the wedding was a bonus. I would reconnoitre for Sendren, staying high so as not to risk bowshot.

"I'll get your bag ready, Your Grace," Bernard said, moving past me, "you can come through to confirm your needs, at His Majesty's pleasure." Again I managed not to laugh. I was sure Bernard had tried to make me laugh deliberately.

Azrael just nodded, and told me to go ahead, as he was off for some meeting with a group of northern kings. He left, shadowed by several cats.

#### ****

## Chapter 6 – Flying in Storms

I dismissed my guards and followed Bernard to the main bedroom.

"Is it just me," I said, looking moodily out the window, "or does it look like rain?" The mist had cleared, but the clouds were getting heavier.

"It does, and it's windy," he said. "I did want to say, Your Grace, to watch your back with the new queen. I don't like the people with her." He made a shrugging motion. "Not that I like her much." He gave me a look. "I know you have a thing for her." I shook my head emphatically.

"Had, Bernard, gods. It's had. We had sex, and no fear of it ever again in her case."

"Glad to hear it, Your Grace. I heard you were besotted." I laughed.

"Gods no, I just liked having sex with her." He laughed too then pulled himself together.

"This knapsack I ordered has what I think you'll need. There's a compass, map, pencils and a notebook, change of clothes, bioplas survival blanket, and smoke." He was gesturing to the pockets and inside. "This strap arrangement's copied from the library, it's designed for Dragon."

"That's excellent," I said, "more practical than a duffel. Thank you, Bernard. A thoughtful purchase on your part." He inclined his head, just a little. Smiled, just a little.

"The coin paid was noted in your luggage expenditure. It wasn't cheap, but as you can see it's very well made. I believe it will fit. If it does we'll have several put together, ready-packed for different purposes. There are knives in this one here, here, and here." It was a wonderful knapsack. I was equipped to find my way to a destination, have a picnic with a knife-fight afterwards, then could wash and put on fresh clothes before a smoke and a comfortable nap. Considering the contents, it was very light. Excellent leather from Starshore, dyed black to match the rest of me. There had been some slight modifications in strapping to better fit my anatomy and not inhibit my wings. The buckling was more like army armour, simplified so even claws could manipulate it. Not every soldier still had all their fingers, or ones that worked properly.

"Bernard, will you look at ordering some armour for Dragon form? And I need some too. I'm supposed to wear it around the citadel too. Security reasons."

"Of course, Your Grace, I'll pop down to the citadel armoury. The Royal Keeper of the Citadel Armouries should know. Or I'll ask the chaps at the Peterhaven Emporium."

"Do I know them?" I said. Bernard nodded.

"You have an account there. I believe you bought some very fancy practice armour from their Malion branch." I smiled at the memory. The armour in question was copper and emerald to match my eyes. I had never worn it, and blamed peer pressure for the purchase, as Azrael had also bought some to match his eyes.

"By the way, Bernard, I forgot to ask the king. What are we calling the new three-kingdom alliance? Do you know?" He pursed his lips.

"It's a surprise, Your Grace."

"Aye," I said, "but do you know?"

"I believe some combination of dragon and alliance was a frontrunner." It was like talking to a puzzle but I had him.

"Dragon Alliance is the current frontrunner?"

"I was sworn to secrecy," he said. "Besides, it's only temporary."

"I don't want to tell anyone, I'm just curious." I tried to emotionally manipulate him. "I might get shot down by Jobanese archers and never find out."

"Watch out for the Kavar too, Your Grace," he said, expressionless, "they may have some ideas up their grubby little sleeves." I laughed.

"To prove how devout they are, some of them wear hessian underwear." Bernard raised his eyebrows. "It's true, dresses and bonnets the same, made out of sacks. Made me want to hose the whole place down. And scratch." Bernard wrinkled his nose.

"Sounds like it needed burning, Your Grace." I smiled.

"Well, might be the easiest way to delouse the Kavar but they're just people, Bernard."

"If you say so, Your Grace."

"I do, Bernard, and because I may go to die, you're going to tell me, in confidence, what they're calling the combined kingdoms of Redoubt, Sendren and Highcliff." He sighed.

"The Dragon Kingdom Alliance, for obvious reasons," he said, looking disapproving.

"Only the reason's threatening not to marry Azrael," I said.

"So I gather," said Bernard, "but even those Dragon who aren't keen on being used to police the north have agreed to wait until we deal with Joban, then they'll renegotiate their agreement." I raised my eyebrows.

"How do you know that?" I said.

"I overheard the queen, Your Grace, she was just outside as I was coming in. Blood and Dragon assume peasants are deaf. I had the feeling a large amount of coin was involved. Also Dragon are assuming they're at least part of the reason for an attack now, to kill as many of the Dragon hierarchy and the kings and queens of Azrael's new Theus, as possible. So they're going to fight the Jobanese." I shook my head.

"Galaia preserve us, I'll assume there won't be time for the wedding tomorrow."

"Who is your replacement, Your Grace?" I wasn't sure.

"My- oh, you mean as best man? I don't know." I frowned. "Maybe Indigo Sutherland? Who did Himself have last time I couldn't make it? I wasn't paying attention." Bernard nodded.

"Understandable, Your Grace, you were kidnapped. It was Bailey Westwych, Crown Prince of Gyr. He was a popular choice. Having gone to school here, people knew his character and of course his family are well-known in Highcliff."

"Well," I said, pretending I was being responsible, "I'd better get going."

"Galaia preserve you, Your Grace. And may Zol and Haka leave you be."

"Aye, be good if the last two can leave me be. Though I'll take the help of Quain." Bernard looked blank. "God of the air. And I'll need Thet's assistance, he who created Dragon." Bernard smiled.

"Hedging your bets, Your Grace?"

"Sometimes you're almost facetious, Bernard." He couldn't resist beaming as he said,

"I hope always almost, Your Grace." I laughed aloud at that one, which pleased Bernard, and gave me a moment to catch my breath.

As I did, I remembered Stefan was still in the citadel, though like me surplus to requirements, now Lilith was getting her way and stopping either of us from being part of the wedding party. If the wedding was still on. I stripped off and changed shape, then took the new knapsack from Bernard. I was able to buckle the straps myself.

#### ****

Outside it was grey and windy. The snow that had greeted us when we came back from the south was melted. Soon winter would set in, before anyone had given up on summer, leading to much complaining and a refusal to dress for the weather until the snow was knee-deep, when everyone would give in and pile on so many clothes movement was barely possible.

The terrace seemed the best place for take off. I leapt into the sky. The wind was gusting hard and tried to slam me into the citadel facade. I focused on getting up and away from walls. In case someone mistook me for a game bird, I kept going up until out of bowshot of the citadel towers then hovered, or tried to, it being rather blustery. I was reminded that we were at altitude here. The wind was a southerly, fresh and cold. No wonder I was thinking of winter, I could smell snow.

For the first time I was going to be deliberately telepathic. I knew the theory. Carefully, I let down part of my mental defences. I thought of Stefan and sent the words, like a frozen and impossible finger-painting in the air.

_I [picture of me] need your assistance. Come?_ To make it clear I sent a mind-picture of the citadel as seen from above. If he didn't get what that meant, I'd fly down to the New Fort to find him.

_Coming,_ said Stefan's voice in my mind. Below I could see a black dragon flying up. As Stefan arrived, sporting a knapsack similar to mine, I decided a mental transmission of the news was easier than shouting over the wind. He had to ask some questions, mental ones, to clarify. I didn't know the answers to several.

Sometimes communication could be faster when it was all in the mind. As Murray and Stefan had both tried to make me understand, I began at last to see sharing thoughts might be very useful. For instance, part of the telepathic conversation was like this,

_Invasion [Picture of an army coming, labelled Jobanese] [picture of Azrael asking me to go scouting] [picture of the gear I was carrying] [map showing where Jobanese should be]_ It would have taken ages to explain, but was only seconds in mindspeech. From Stefan came,

[picture of us flying off]

Without even hand signals required, Dragon warriors could think instead of speak, then the group could act as one. For any soldier without the protection of the groupthink, not to mention lacking Dragon's common extras like extraordinary strength and speed, and the rarer ability to transform, Dragon was formidable and quite terrifying.

Murray – another Dragon, who had been my main tutor in learning to protect my mind - had mentioned that one could utilise telepathy during battle, but I had thought it was a hive mind, soldier drones fighting without a sense of self. Instead it was more like a communications system, one the enemy would find hard to subvert without a leap in evolution.

Telepathy had disadvantages. One had to be careful over meaning. Words often needed facial expressions, pictures, and gestures to help explain, but you could send all of those, you just had to remember to do so. A singular disadvantage of inter-mind communication was that the susceptible, like me, could be taken advantage of by the unscrupulous.

Enter Lilith, happy to use her gifts to her own advantage. For the first time it also occurred to me that Azrael might be trying to use her ability for his own ends. Did he have any telepathic abilities? The shared dreams when we were both ill had been some kind of telepathic event. I knew he had personal healing gifts. Lilith's abilities included being a kind of seer. The wind was picking up and I didn't have time to puzzle over Dragon talents. I could smell rain coming, a more immediate event than the snow far in the south. I suddenly realised something.

"I don't know how to fly in this!" I shouted it, but the words were snatched away by the wind. I repeated it mentally and Stefan began a lesson on the wing. We tacked in three dimensions across the weather front, wings reefed tight as we tried to get above the storm, like sailing in air. It was exhilarating but exhausting, mind and body. After a very fast flight, I wasn't sure how long, maybe fifty minutes, Stefan said we weren't far from the Jobanese army. Far was a comparative term. The weather got wilder, though it wasn't solid cloud.

We spotted troops, all hunkered down in series of valleys. It didn't look at many as expected, maybe two thousand instead of the thirteen thousand reported, and the weather seemed to be pinning them down. We flew to the nearest fort, told them the news, flew on to the nearest headquarters to pass on the fort's intelligence and our own, then took to the air again. There were reports of more enemy troops to the north. We didn't see them, but kept searching until forced to the ground, fortunately close to a town. We transformed and dressed hurriedly.

"At least it's keeping the war quiet!" Stefan shouted over the wind and rain. "Nothing will be moving in this." Leaping puddles, we ran for the gates then had to stop as the gate guards demanded identification. Two of them watched while another checked our papers. It was a vile day. Even under the arch of the gateway, despite being out of the worst of the rain, the wind meant we were still getting wet. Adding to my sodden state, the road wasn't completely paved.

If they were locals, carts hurrying in were waved on, sending up water and muck and causing us under the gate to scatter, then we'd all come back together. Everything was sticky with rain. Stefan couldn't find his identification, and cursing under his breath, was searching in his knapsack.

"Sorry," he said to the guard, "it's here somewhere."

"Starshore, eh?" the guard with my papers said to me, as if it were a foreign country and not a local duchy in the same kingdom.

"Aye," I said, "though I was born in Beech Wood."

"Aye, Your Grace, I'd heard that." I supposed most people had, and could lecture me about points of my life I'd need to look up in my journals. The guard smiled. "But your papers are in order." I smiled too and took them back.

The wind was gusting harder, more rain driving in under the gateway. I hunched my shoulders against it and tried to do my job, which was collect intelligence on the Jobanese forces. Had the guards seen anything unusual?

"There's a war on," one of the other guards told us solemnly. "In case you didn't know. Last we heard, looked like going past us down the main highway." He and his friends looked relieved.

"Oh?" I said. I added, "Good if it misses you!" I had to raise my voice over the storm, "Advantage to being off the beaten track!" I was good at being polite, even in a tempest. Finally Stefan found his identification in one of his pockets.

"Dr, eh?" said the first guard, as if doctoring was as exotic as that foreign place, Starshore. The wind howled past him so he had to shout over it. "Well, everything's in order, apologies for the delay lordships! Welcome to Edger Station, named for it being on the edge of the Great Star Lake, once believed to be the edge of the World!" I found that hard to believe, as the planet had been settled by people landed from starships. We'd always known ours was a world with more than one continent, the first settlers had seen it from space. Even our continent, Pangea, was more than the land around the Great Star Lake.

However, we smiled and said, Galaia preserve us, was that true? Turned out he wasn't sure, but he and the other men did know the best places to eat and sleep in town. More shouting, directions acquired, and we hurried along flooding streets to wait out the weather in comfort. Despite pretending no army could move in that, I knew the Army of the North and the Sriamans moved in worse weather, even fought in it, but I wanted it to be true.

One thing that was true, we couldn't fly in it or scout effectively. Visibility was down to tens of feet. We ate. The weather worsened to a howling wind with sleet and hail that I thought might stop even the Jobanese, so we hung our clothes in front of the fire to dry and napped.

When I woke I could only tell the hour by looking at my watch. Somewhere the sun was setting, but when I looked out the window there was no sign, just cold wet blackness.

"Sounds as if the wind's dropped," said Stefan from his bed.

"Aye," I said, opening the window to sniff the air. "Still pissing down though."

"Bit of rain doesn't hurt dragonskin, laddie," he said, throwing back the covers. "Off we go."

#### ****

## Chapter 7 - Crash

We flew up, through cold damp darkness, then suddenly were above the clouds, bathed in the last of the sunset, and all around us were astounding colours, bright oranges, reds, golds, and silver. Our black scales caught the fiery light as if we'd been gilded.

It was there for moments, then suddenly darkness fell and almost immediately the moon rose, nearly full, illuminating a silver wonderland of soft canyons floating in a bright night, like nothing I'd ever seen in waking hours, at least not without the influence of hallucinogens.

Unfortunately, to see the ground one had to get below the cloud base, which was low. Hidden in it were large immovable objects, like most of the World. I could see some peaks piercing the clouds, dark stone spires reaching towards the heavens. There were more of those hiding in the clouds. Night scouting in dragon form was terrifying. I might fly into a mountain or a tree. I might forget to flap my wings, and crash-

"Polo!" Stefan shouted. I looked. Then his words formed in my mind. _You're not broadcasting your thoughts, but I can feel your terror. Please stop._

_Sorry_ , I thought back at him, _I'm beginning to think if Thet wanted me to fly he'd have given me wings at birth. This is awful. [Picture of me flying into a tree hidden in cloud]_

_We all have to learn_ , said Stefan, his voice calm, _Dragon had left Lucas before I ever managed transformation. Now focus. You told me you can see life. Use that skill to see the ground. And the enemy._

_Which one?_ I heard him laughing. Of course, once I stopped panicking it was easier, and so it was a slight disappointment when I really did fly into a tree.

#### ****

There was a gap in the clouds, Stefan's voice in my mind telling me he was going down, accompanied by a picture of how to. I dived through after him, but the tunnel of clear air closed without warning. The calm we'd flown into was gone, the windy weather was back.

There was no time to ask what to do. I lost control in less than a heartbeat. A maelstrom of wind and water tumbled me round, spitting me out some few hundred feet down and thousands of feet away horizontally. It was as terrifying as being helpless under a breaking wave, but with the added frisson of knowing I was a dead man if the current of air managed to dump me. Struggling to gain control, wings reefed in against the gale, to my surprise I managed to stop falling. I even had time for a moment of level flight.

The tree appeared out of the rain and mist, right in front of me. Still hyper-ventilating after the severe fright of being tumbled through a cloud, I had no idea I was so close to the ground, and had just enough time for terror. A line from a book I read flashed through my mind, how nothing was as useless to a flier as air above you, then a branch caught me in the chest so hard I couldn't breathe, move or think. Beginning to fall, I hit my head hard enough to not remember the rest of it.

Fortunately I exited the cloud pretty much at treetop level, so didn't fall as far as I might have.

#### ****

Next thing I knew, Stefan was peeling back one of my eyelids, which filled my eye with rain. I blinked. I was lying on my back, my knapsack on my chest.

"Polo?" he said. "Don't try to move." Try? That was a joke. I felt as if I was somehow stuck in the peak moment of searing agony inside every shape-change.

"What-" -I had to stop to wheeze- "-happened?"

"You crashed. Into a tree." He smiled. "Up until then you were doing well." I didn't want to laugh. I did want to cry, but the pain involved in sobbing put me off.

"I think," I said, my voice hoarse, feeling all the grating horror inside me, "I think - things are broken."

"Where's the pain?" he said. I tried to move an arm to gesture at my body, and passed out.

#### ****

When I woke up the next time, Stefan was back in human form and dressed. He'd got my knapsack off me.

"I think you've broken most of your bones," he said. I absorbed that knowledge and passed out again.

#### ****

Moving was impossible.

"Don't try to move," someone said. Even breathing was unwise. Things ground together and reminded me that pain could always be worse. I knew pain, having been badly injured enough times to understand when it meant I wasn't going anywhere.

"I'm not," I said, "moving." I was trying not to pant.

"Open your mind." In my head, Stefan ran through a litany of soothing words, hypnotising me and providing welcome pain relief and focus. Rain was running into my eyes, mixing with my tears. I couldn't move. I couldn't feel below my waist. Gods. I tried not to gasp.

I broke my back too?

"Aye," said Stefan, aloud, "in several places."

_Can I heal this?_ He shrugged his shoulders without letting go of my wrist, where his fingers were digging into the pulse-point.

"I'll give you blood, that should give you enough of the draconium you need to transform back into human shape. That will heal you, but even with my blood you'll be very weak. I mean so weak you'll need hand-feeding. Did I mention," he said, and smiled, "I dived through that gap in the clouds because I saw more Jobanese advancing in this direction?" Amused, as one often is in black situations, I tried not to smile back. Just breathing hurt.

#### ****

Stefan's eyes looked so anxious. I wondered what was going on. Then he held his wrist against my mouth, and the hot slipperiness of the blood smeared my lips. It tasted disgusting. I drank anyway then lay there hoping the rain would wash my mouth clean.

Stefan wouldn't shut up. In my head or out of it.

"You need to change, Polo. It needs to be soon, or you're going to lose consciousness again."

"Aye," I whispered aloud, knowing it had to be now, "one good breath-"

#### ****

Stefan hadn't mentioned the excruciating pain of the healing change, which was probably just as well. Returning to human form while healing a multitude of broken bones, including one's spine, wasn't the kind of action one wanted to hesitate over.

Torn apart and remade, suddenly able to feel again all the way to my toes, my every nerve was alive for the whole experience. For seeming minutes or maybe hours, a wall of overwhelming agony swept over me, burying me, taking my breath away completely. It was terrifying. Worst ever, more ghastly than my screaming horrors on the floor of the shower at Grandmama's house, being ripped up by Aunt Kristen, the wounds getting infected. I couldn't even cry out. Galaia preserve me, there was a moment when my heart didn't beat.

Something was whimpering. Little mewling noises that didn't sound like anything human or Dragon, and certainly didn't sound like me. Stefan's face seemed to swim into focus. He laid a hand on my forehead.

"It's alright, lad, looks like you made it. It's alright." He checked that I could move all my limbs, which I could, just. Then I couldn't move at all, only shiver, caught in the worst exhaustion and pain-shock I'd ever experienced. Stefan helped me dress. "You'll be alright now, Polo, we'll get under cover, get some food into you, and you can sleep."

I was just a body. No Polo Shawcross, no Duke of Starshore, no me, not even a trace. I quivered, wide-eyed and afraid. I just was. Stefan dragged me into the lee of some trees, gave me more blood then forced me to eat. It was so hard, all I wanted was to lie down and die. Finally he let me lie down, wrapped in a waterproof blanket. "Now you can sleep," he said. Whole, or something, I passed out, or something.

It was as though my body had set my soul free, and I floated up through the trees. Cree appeared, looking amused.

What are you doing, Polo?

_Am I dying?_ I said. _Again?_ He laughed.

No, I think you're just wandering, from the shock.

I hit a tree.

_Idiot_ , he said. It was affectionate. Then Stefan very firmly called me back to my body. Something about not leaving it empty. So I went.

#### ****

A dream? Lying in a boat, the waves gentle but starting to make a noise, slapping on the hull. For the way the boat was rocking, the sound was loud, then even louder, the motion more urgent. I sat up and looked around. The boat was shaking but the water seemed calm. I looked over the side and going overboard felt inevitable, as if I was top-heavy. I slid over the side into the still water. The shaking didn't stop. The water was over my head, shaking all around me, the surface sparkling above me. I needed to get up there. I needed to breathe.

Suddenly I woke up, someone's hand over my mouth. I was myself again, though barely able to move. I opened my eyes, hoping the hand belonged to Stefan and not some Jobanese soldier, because I still felt weak as a newborn kitten.

It was night. I wasn't in a boat. The earth seemed to be alive underneath me. Was it an earthquake? There was a strange modulating noise I knew but couldn't recognise. I was inside a small grove of trees. The noise from my dream was there. And the ground really was shaking. Stefan's voice was sharp in my ear. I tried to focus.

"-let me into your head." So I did. _Do not move! The ground is shaking because about fifty yards from us the entire bloody Jobanese army is marching past._ I tried not to squeal with fear. Undignified at any time, but especially when people think you're a war hero. I was a war hero when supplied with armour and weapons. So many weapons. And a horse prepared to kill the enemy whether I was on its back or not. I remembered the three knives.

_Want a knife? I have three in my pack._ Now to see if I was paying attention when Bernard showed me where they were. As I tried to move a little, I realised I wasn't much better than when last conscious, just less cold. I was so weak that just rolling onto my side was an effort and brought on a wave of nausea. The Jobanese army was next to my head, and I could barely move. This really wasn't fair. I groped for the pack and knives. I just had to remember Bernard's gestures when he explained where they were. I was sweating by the time I handed Stefan the first, a small knife in a neat scabbard.

_That will be handy for my suicide._ Stefan smiled. _Unless you'd like me to fly away and risk drawing attention to you?_

_I'm not killing myself yet,_ I said. _Haven't you been a soldier?_ He shook his head.

Surgeon in the army, aerial scout on occasion, not a soldier. I don't do surgery any more. I do therapies to put soldiers back together once they live through what other butchers, be they surgeon or soldier, do to them.

_No surgery?_ I said, and could see his shrug.

_Most of the surgeons here are working from books I wrote._ I grinned in the darkness.

_Then I'm guessing you remember how to make an incision._ He had to put his hand over his mouth so as not to laugh out loud.

The Jobanese marching past were beginning to make me feel uncomfortably like being in an earthquake. I sat up with some effort and got my back against a tree. It helped, less nausea, though the trunk was still vibrating with the measured tread of soldiers' feet. It was a scout's nightmare. Hiding close or even among the enemy, sure, but not without a way to run or fly away. I distracted myself with mind-talking to Stefan. You may have to go, Stefan. No sense in both of us captured.

Didn't you tell me you managed to transform into a very small dragon?

_Aye_. My tone wasn't enthusiastic. I was still recoiling inside from the agony of the recent healing. I didn't want to shape-change again any time soon. Maybe not ever.

_Take blood from me, do it again,_ he said.

What will you do?

_I'm also going to transform into a small dragon, and we're both going to hide out here unless we're forced to fly._ Damn. I was planning to nod and smile, wave him off, then go back to sleep as I was. Instead we stripped then stashed our packs carefully. Stefan used the knife I'd given him to open his wrist. I took blood then said I was ready. _Safer in form. You just have to remember not to scream._ I looked at him.

Scream?

You're changing very soon after healing bone. It's going to hurt.

You didn't warn me about how much healing bone hurts.

_I thought you'd be expecting it to,_ he said. _It's exactly like having all those bones set, with the broken pieces reincorporated into the places they shattered from. Past painful and into excruciating. This will just be painful, but you're so weak you might scream._

_Right_ , I said, trying to breathe evenly, _I won't scream._

#### ****

Instead I fainted. By the time I came to the worst of the pain was over. Though there were tears on my face, the crying had stopped. I noted that unconsciousness was useful.

Stefan was back in form. He looked so sweet in miniature, I nearly giggled, but was trying to be quiet. I was also tired out, on the edge of hysteria, and wanted to stay put, curled in some leaves, but Stefan's voice in my head chivvied me up.

_Let's climb this tree, very slowly._ I had to stop and pant quietly after every movement, but holding on wasn't hard. Claws and a tail were excellent climbing tools.

We were in mountain forest, left intact to keep the slopes together, but managed and thinned for timber and to allow passage of people and animals, much like around where I grew up in Lower Beech. I imagined a foreign army running into the forest rangers of the Duchy of Beech Wood, including my rarely-sober father.

The rangers wouldn't expect an army division moving through the trees. The comfort of breakfast - bacon rolls and hot coffee - would be only just gone, then they would hear the noise and look up at the peaks, wondering which mountain had decided to shed something. Was it an avalanche, a rockslide? My father though, he would recognise the sound of marching feet.

Trying to avoid thinking about how sick I felt, I was lost in the imagined story, then I suddenly realised I was about fifty feet up a tree and the size of a large rabbit. It seemed best to focus on my present. From our new vantage point through the leaves, dragon senses let us see soldiers moving.

It was raining, again or still, visibility low. Bioplas armour made little sound when properly adjusted and there were ways to damp noise further, but the quietest armour only dimmed the life force's glow. The animals of the forest weren't fooled and were scattering away. So many soldiers. What were they doing up here? I would have kept climbing but couldn't raise the energy.

_I don't think it's the entire army,_ I said in my mind. _And it's not their Kavar mercenaries. Some kind of crack Jobanese troops? They're all Blood._

_I need to tell someone,_ Stefan said. He was right.

Aye, and I'm too weak to fly. I'll wait here until I feel better.

Just stay quiet.

_I'll make myself a nest,_ I said, _catch up on some sleep._

#### ****

## Chapter 8 – I Spy

Still secure in the tree, I woke some time later. It was raining, still or again, but I was snug and dry. I looked around, then froze. Someone was moving and not quietly, much too close to the grove. The rain suddenly stopped and the person crashed closer. I moved along the trunk, creeping lower, each step both painful and an effort. The someone was Blood and a woman. I moved out on a limb, sniffing the air. She was someone whose scent I knew but couldn't place, a surprise behind enemy lines.

The only Blood woman I knew on the opposing side was the Queen of Joban, who'd hardly be grubbing about on a hillside in the middle of a rainstorm. Trying to see, I edged out further and saw the shape of her, stocky and slightly bow-legged, looking a lot like her father, if you believed the official version of her parentage that Old Theo was her sire. The lines of scarring on my bones began to itch and throb. She looked up at the sky, exposing her face to me. Gods, it really was her, Kristen Westwych.

"Bloody map," she said. If I had the strength I would have cursed aloud. Of all the times to meet the woman who nearly killed me! I was too weak to tear her head off! My noble and forgiving attitude in front of Azrael forgotten, I was suddenly very angry. Despite the anger, moving was no easier. I had no adrenalin stocks to fire up my blood. However, I was the same size as her when she ripped me up, maybe I could do something useful to the war effort. At least I could follow her and see what she did.

She was moving closer, almost under my tree. Half-awake and weak, I moved to see more clearly through the leaves, but missed my footing on the slick branch, slipped, and scrabbled with all fours and tail. Briefly I held on with one hind, lacking the strength to haul myself back, then even to hold on. I was so addled I tried to lash my tail round my other leg instead of the branch, giving gravity a sudden advantage. For the second time that day, I fell out of a tree. Or through one.

It might have been satisfying if I'd fallen on the Queen of Joban and maybe messed up her hair. Instead I landed flat on my back in front of her, quite winded and covered in leaves.

"Galaia's tits!" said Kristen. I didn't blame her, my arrival must have been quite a shock. I stared upwards, clutching bits of branch and leaf in my claws and tail. I wasn't trying to hold them up but had grabbed at the sky on the way down, trying to break my fall. With being winded, I couldn't let go. Perhaps I could pretend to be a small forest. I was fortunately not injured, aside from slightly stunned and unable to breathe. I hadn't fallen so far this time. Right on cue it began to pour with rain. I looked up at Kristen, who was staring. She took a swig out of a flask then squatted down and peered at me. I still couldn't move. I prayed to be able to breathe, and managed a snort of air.

I must tell Bernard that praying to Quain before I left had been the charm. Quain might have tumbled me through a tree but he was being good to me. God of the air, I thank you for your mercy. Air, delicious, beautiful air. My limbs and tail were able to unlock at last. I dropped the twigs.

"You're alive!" Kristen said. I gasped a bit then managed to wheeze and nod.

"Aye," I said, then gasped some more. "Gods, I think I'm alright." I sat up and shook the leaves off. I had water up my nose, and sneezed. "Excuse me." We were Blood. Even on a stormy mountainside, me in dragon-shape, we were polite. Kristen offered a handkerchief. I waved it away. "Thank you, I'm fine," I said, not knowing how to deal with cloth and claws. "Polo Shawcross, Your Majesty," I said, taking refuge in protocol, "I'm Duke of Starshore. Fancy meeting again, especially," I coughed, "here. Like this." She began to laugh then covered her mouth. I suspect I sounded delirious.

"Call me Kristen," she said. "Poor thing, let's get into these trees." I let her assist, which involved being picked up and clutched to her bosom. I thought about scratching her eyes out but the effort was beyond me. "Gods, you're heavy," she said.

"Mmm," I said, but the noise was muffled. I hadn't been clutched to a bosom for a while. It was very pleasant. Much nicer than being in the rain. I didn't fancy Kristen but I liked the motherly comfort of her. It had been an awful day, with all the trees and broken bones, and a hug was appreciated. Besides, a mother not my own was one I could relax around.

Thanks to my enhanced vision, Kristen's motivations were as clear to me as water. She bore me no malice at all. I was warm, though the danger of being unable to breathe was back with me. For now I snuggled down into her cleavage as she carried me back into the grove I'd fallen out of. I was quite sad when set down on a log, even though she carefully wrapped me in a woollen scarf.

Kristin looked out, then returned to sit next to me. She was wearing trousers, a knee-length sheepskin-lined leather jacket, walking boots, and another scarf over her black hair. She had a solid build but seemed thinner than the last time I saw her, even in the bulky winter gear, though her big blue eyes were still as sad. She was sensibly dressed for the miserable night, except when you noticed she was wearing enough jewellery to fund a small kingdom for several years. Like so many of the women at Court, she made a gentle clinking sound as she moved. Earrings swung, bracelets bounced against each other and the rings sounded against whatever she touched, all different light tones.

"Do you need blood?" she said, distracting me from listening to her jewellery. "To change back?"

"I'm alright," I said, then thought some blood might help me get the strength to fly away, or heal faster. Our blood contained draconium. We could change without it, but exhaustion meant one might make some kind of awful mistake. We were designed to be able to refuel from our fellow Blood or Dragon in the midst of some kind of fight, when food or rest wasn't an option. Then it occurred to me that the extra ingested draconium might just give me enough energy to get away from there. "Well, if you can spare some? I only need a spoonful." It was as though Bernard had slipped dreamdust into the rations I ate before I slept. Would he do that? Was this really happening? Was the Queen of Joban offering to give me her blood?

"After what happened, Polo," said Kristen, "you must think badly of me." Up until then I hadn't been sure she remembered who I was. When I was sixteen, she nearly killed me, after transforming into a small and very dangerous dragon. She gave a dramatic sigh. I sat up as well as I could, a bit woozy. "I'm really sorry," she said, "I was having a panic attack. Mothers, you know." I made a squeaking sound. It was meant to sound sympathetic. I nodded to emphasise the point. "I didn't know," she said, smiling at me, "that you were the same size as me!"

"Mmm," I said, and bared my teeth politely, not liking to mention I could be other sizes. She was small when transformed. It had led to one of my favourite jokes when people asked about my scars, that it was a lesson to never pick up a dragon, even a small one. She undid a bejewelled gold bracelet and offered me her wrist. "Here, take what you need."

"It won't be much, ma'am," I said.

"Call me Kristen," she said, "especially since we're cousins, and," she offered her wrist again, "you know." I nearly laughed at the surreal scene. Yes, Kristen, I do know, you nearly killed me. Still, I couldn't find it in my heart to attempt to hurt her, even if I'd had the strength. That didn't mean I was going to be squeamish over my need for what was in her blood. I carefully nicked open the delicate skin with a claw, enough to get it bleeding, not deep enough to wound badly. I tried to be gentle. She gasped.

"Sorry, Kristen," I said, "that's the skin broken."

"After what I did to you," she said, sounding bright, "it's nothing. I didn't mean to, I really didn't. I was trying to get away. I heard I ripped your hip open too. I didn't even realise."

"I knew that," I said, "though I won't deny being angry for a long time. You weren't attacking me. It was because I tried to hold on to you. Azrael always thought you hurt us by accident. That when you bit him, you were trying to refuel." She nodded. I sucked on the wound carefully.

"That feels so strange," she said, and swallowed. I could see the fluctuation in her life force.

"Sorry," I said, pausing, "does it hurt?"

"Aye," she said, nodding. "But it's alright. When I changed shape I didn't really understand what had happened. At first I thought I was drunk and lying on the floor. Mother apparently hit me but I don't remember that either. I only realised I'd changed shape when I flew. I wanted to change back so took the blood but didn't know how to change." She shook her head. "I made it outside Peterhaven then waited for my coach and men to be released. Father was having them questioned, so I sat in a tree for two days with the most awful hangover, petrified that if I slept I'd miss my coach."

"Oh," I said, "I remember. Saraia was giving you all shots of brandy." I smiled at the memory then ducked my head to drink again. Kristen waited until I was finished, a few moments later. I felt better, but having recently fallen out of two trees and broken nearly every bone in my body then had to re-knit them, better was relative.

"My men were wonderful," said Kristen, "I heard them coming, and flew down. They treated me as if I was just me. One of them had an uncle who could shape-change so he talked about it with me. Mother and Father had never even mentioned the possibility." I snorted, sharing her outrage.

"Aye, same in my family. And my grandmother is Dragon."

"Exactly." Kristen shook her head. "Like it's wrong to be who we are."

"Aye," I said, "where's your handkerchief? You might want to apply pressure to that." I wasn't sure if it might get infected and didn't like to mention it. She dabbed at her wrist then held the cloth there.

"It's hardly bleeding at all. Anyway, I managed to change back then my men smuggled me across the border. So you were listening when Mother and I were having that fight?" I wasn't alone. Azrael, the bodyguards, and about twenty assorted servants were with me.

"Aye," I said, "we were ordered to the tower for a security emergency, which was actually your arrival, but the people who gave the order didn't know you were in the North Tower. Azrael wanted to hear what was going on so we all went upstairs. He begged Fenric to be allowed." I missed out my own begging. "The queen did hit you. I saw that. I saw you change." I smiled up at her. It wasn't always reassuring in dragon form, too many teeth. Kristen started. I went on hastily, "Seeing you change shape changed my life. The possibility that shape-changing was real was astonishing. I was told it was a myth." I sneezed again. Kristen tucked the scarf in around me.

Gods, was I ill? Dragon blood made us naturally resistant to many infections, even those we carried on our teeth and claws but the death rate among the Blood was often higher than the commoners as we tended to take more risks and push ourselves harder. I'd pushed my body very hard. "Don't suppose you've anything to eat?" I said, wiping my mouth with a paw. "Or to drink? Get this taste out of my mouth. I'm not fond of the taste of blood." She grimaced.

"Aye, I remember, the one time I tasted blood, it wasn't pleasant. Here, I have some sandwiches." Along with her flask of whiskey and assorted sandwiches, the queen had a thermos of coffee. Say what you like about royalty, they don't go hungry. We sat in the grove of trees, murmuring to each other. Sandwiches were tricky to eat with claws, but not impossible.

Talking to the Queen of Joban during a Jobanese invasion was exactly the kind of opportunity a Sendrenese duke on a spying mission couldn't reasonably pass up. Kristen was a wanted woman here in her home kingdom. I wondered what the bounty was. Six years ago it had been a hundred golds, a fortune for most people. That kind of coin could tempt a man. She was lucky I was rich and not greedy.

I stayed in dragon form, no sense in wasting energy changing. Besides, being cute and small gave me an advantage, despite my bodily exhaustion, and I could tell her general motives from the glow of her life force. I even had a little energy from taking blood and the food, whereas the moment I changed back to a man I would be weaker and the dynamic would change. Kristen might stop being nice to me. If she was a good liar, it wouldn't be as easy to tell.

After we'd been talking for a while she said, "If you're a spy for Azrael, just so you know, I really don't care."

"You don't?" I said, "I was wondering why you hadn't screamed for your guards. Why don't you care? For one side or the other?"

"Joban isn't invading Sendren to make me queen." She made a shooing gesture and her bracelets slid together, making a sound like tiny temple bells. "And I dismissed my guards," she said. I chuckled.

"Ah," I said, "so do I have it right? Young Perry's going to be your husband's puppet?" The jewellery chinked as she gestured again. Rain was pattering on the leaves, but we were warm and dry.

"Col thinks he'll control Young Perry-" Col was her husband Colin, King of Joban, "-but Mother wrote to warn me about Perry. She has a very low opinion of him."

"You've made up with your mother? That's good news."

"Well," said Kristen, "I was surprised to get mail from her. She hadn't spoken to me since, well, since that time you and I met. Five years ago." She paused. "Five and a half or so now." I nodded, feeling quite snug wrapped up in her scarf. "That was when she accused me of having my own brother killed." She sighed heavily. "The Late Perry was an arse, but he and I were close until the drink took him." She hiccupped. "Excuse me." she said. I tried not to smile.

"Of course," I said.

"What do you think of Young Perry? Do you think he's his father's son?" It was a strange way to say it.

"Aye, he seems so. His mother has all the documentation." I wrinkled my nose. "However I think he would be a bad king for Sendren or anywhere else. Haven't you met him?" I curled my lip. "In person his charm shows through."

"Aye," she said, curling her lip too, "odious. He makes my stomach turn, but he gets on with Col and he paid for the mercenaries." Her husband enjoyed Young Perry's company? Poor Kristen, to be married to a man like that.

"Uncle Col must be fun at parties." She groaned.

"He's greedy, and completely taken in by Perry. Perry promised Col can keep Joban and have Acordia as part of her territory so Joban will be a stronger member of his alliance. That seems to be the pattern of Perry's appeal. Here, join my alliance and take over your neighbour's kingdom. Appeals to the greedy and corrupt. Father wouldn't have touched the notion with a bargepole." Acordia was Sendren's ally, just to Sendren's southeast, Joban's south, one of the kingdoms that would become duchies in Azrael's new kingdom, and so far not involved in any war except the one every kingdom sent soldiers and supplies to, up in the north.

"That would be a nasty surprise for Acordia." She nodded.

"Young Perry's even claiming his empire will be fairer, because the strongest kingdoms will become larger, whereas in Azrael's kingdom, all the kings become dukes with less land. First, Young Perry's forces will take Sendren, then Highcliff, Cragleas, Gyr, and Redoubt. Of course, Acordia and Panswell will probably surrender, they're too small to stand alone, and wanted to be part of Azrael's Dragon kingdoms. That's their plan, Perry and his co-conspirators, though it won't work. Things never go according to plan. Had you noticed that?"

"Aye," I said, "you're talking to the man who was thrown out of the Military Guild in first year. I switched to Estate Management. About six months later I signed up for the army whilst drunk. Then it was now." She laughed and laughed. I liked Kristen, she laughed at my jokes.

"I read those books about you," she said, "are they very fanciful?"

"They're so fanciful as to be almost fiction," I said firmly. "In fact, from what I've heard of the third book, I think I'm being used by someone the way your husband wants to use Young Perry. I don't know why they think I'd be a better king than Azrael. It's just not true. I'm lazy and binge on drugs and alcohol quite frequently, where Azrael's exactly the sort of dedicated man we need."

#### ****

## Chapter 9 – Suicide and State Secrets

I left out me being sex-obsessed and Azrael's younger days, when he kept up with my drug and alcohol intake. I was being a diplomat, doing my job for the Crown, the Crown of Whatever It Was Called At The Moment. "And think of it," I said, "an end to the war in the north for the whole landmass. All that effort could be directed towards making the new Dragon kingdom into a model one." I was His Majesty's loyal subject, even when knee-high.

"Aye," said Kristen, "I think we'd be better under Azrael, myself. I wanted to rule Sendren but never even considered the notion of stopping the war. That's what a ruler should be able to see. You have to rise above yourself. He's got vision." Her support of Azrael was good news and unexpected.

"But what about Dragon?" I said. "Aren't Joban a bit wary?" She shook her head and gestured with a sandwich.

"Young Perry's convinced Col that Dragon is pulling out. Going to found a new colony overseas somewhere, away from Pangea and all our wars. Young Perry has friends at Court down in Redoubt, so he says. Azrael should watch his back, so should you for that matter. That queen doesn't control Dragon, you know. Apparently," she leaned towards me and whispered the words, "they're a kind of democracy." I made appropriate noises of disbelief through a mouthful of really good ham with cheese with an excellent pickle. "Shocking though it is," Kristen said, "she's just a figurehead. They decided to call her queen to suit the Kingdom way of needing a monarch state. She's elected!" I snorted at the idea. But it was interesting. Stefan had said Lilith was queen and therefore leader purely because she was oldest. Everyone seemed to have their own truths, their own agendas. Should I have one past a good night's sleep?

"So with Dragon gone," I said, feeling suddenly like a soldier again despite my size, "Young Perry's forces will head up the Little Dragon. Inviting each kingdom to turn against their neighbour. Who with Perry's aid will be crushed."

"Aye," said Kristen, "and I don't like Perry." I laughed, almost forgetting to muffle the sound.

"Me neither. By the way, Kristen, what are you really doing out here without your guards?" She made a face.

"I was looking for a cliff to jump off." An hour ago I'd have pushed her over any cliff I found her on, in a fit of emotive stupidity. However, as one does in wartime, rather suddenly we'd made friends.

"Oh?" I said, as Kristen made a shrugging motion and took another hit on her flask.

"Sorry," she said, "probably shouldn't lay these things on other people. Col says I'm always complaining." I waved a clawed paw in an expansive gesture.

"It's alright," I said, "the truth's not complaining, is it?" She laughed.

"Never thought of it that way."

"I've felt like that. That life wasn't worth the fuss. Always thought I'd take an overdose of poppy. A cliff's a messy end." Either one had felt the notion or one hadn't. I had. And my words resonated with Kristen.

"It's something I've been thinking about for a long time," she said, "I mean killing myself, not jumping off a cliff particularly." We both laughed, struck by the black humour of her words. I could see her relaxing, her life force becoming clearer, less jagged, even the lines in her face seemed less deep. Sharing the notion sometimes defused the problem. She sighed and gave a half-smile. "I tried to be a good wife and mother, you know. For the first fifteen years or so. And even then I only had two men ever. My husband was my first, and six years ago, Robbie was the last." I made sympathetic noises while swiping the last ham-cheese-and-pickle sandwich. "So that's another six years of fidelity," she said, and sighed. "Col insisted I had to come along on this stupid war. In case they got lost going to Peterhaven." She rolled her eyes and I shook my head.

"They couldn't read a map?" She shook her head too.

"Aye, turned out they couldn't. How can a man get through the Military Guild without being able to tell his east from west?"

"I have no sense of direction," I said, "so I carry a compass."

"They couldn't work a compass." I waved the sandwich.

"Really? I ran into men like that in the army. Can't read a map, can't use a compass. They're bribing the guild to pass. Azrael passed on his own merits, but no wonder we're losing the war."

"That's disgusting," she said, and I could only nod. "Also their maps were out of date so it was just as well I came along. They're on the right road now. They would have ended up in Port Azrael." I tried not to look alarmed but was very glad Stefan had already taken word back that there were Jobanese off their expected route.

"Oh?" I said. She nodded.

"I said I was going scouting and Col's so bent on conquest he didn't hear me. I made sure one of the adjutants heard and walked out. My servants wanted to come, and when I said no, insisted on kitting me out with supplies, in case I didn't make it back tonight. On the map there's a row of cliffs, just south of here. I was going to die in Sendren." She made a face.

I nodded, making for the roast beef. "Sounds melodramatic," she said, "but it made sense. Calm sense even, you know?" I paused before putting the sandwich in my mouth.

"Logical?" I said.

"Completely logical," she agreed, "not over-reacting." I didn't think she meant she was still going to kill herself and nodded again.

"It sometimes seems the best option," I said, "though when I wanted to die, it turned out my parents were the ones who needed to suicide." That made her laugh again.

Before Aunt Kristen nearly took my arm off, all those years ago, I was eavesdropping on a conversation about her dead lover, Robert Dunleavy. To show his adoration of Kristen, he killed the Late Crown Prince Perry, Kristen's older brother, so she could go home to her beloved Sendren and be queen. Robbie's thwarted plan included killing Azrael so Kristen would be the only living heir.

Uncle Theo and Aunt Rose, king and queen at the time, were sure Kristen engineered the whole thing in a rather serious fit of sibling rivalry. The stress of that accusation led to Kristen changing shape. It was my first inkling of what Dragon could do, a tiny dragon, not even knee-high, escaping a tower full of people, many of them veteran troops, leaving several people badly injured along with Azrael and me. The last time I saw Kristen she was flying out a window. I had been holding my arm together, watching myself bleed to death.

I finished the sandwich and carefully wiped my mouth with a forepaw.

"Excuse me if it's speaking out of turn, Kristen," I said, "but I'm guessing you never really got over your Robbie. I heard what happened to him from several different people who were there at the interrogation. If it's any consolation, everyone said he died instantly. He wasn't tortured. And the guards didn't care that the Late Perry was dead so he wasn't beaten like someone who killed a popular heir might be. He admitted everything so Uncle Nate didn't get a go at him." Uncle Nate Westwych was the Royal Torturer, a younger brother of the late King Theo.

After being arrested for killing Kristen's brother Perry, Dunleavy was taken for interrogation. He admitted it all, said he did it for her. Then he tried to kill the king who, having lost his temper, was foolishly right in Dunleavy's face. To save Theo, Fenric clobbered the prisoner, who dropped unconscious then died within a minute or so. Kristen took another hit on her flask.

"It's not really a consolation, Polo, but thank you." She seemed better. I smiled, and said in a teasing tone,

"Are you still going to kill yourself?"

"Aye." I wasn't sure what to say. What had I felt, when I was ready to kill myself?

"Shall I stop you?" She shook her head.

"I'd rather you didn't." She seemed quite lucid. I reminded myself I was barely so and she was drunk.

"Why are you killing yourself?" She shuddered.

"Because my nephew is going to kill my husband. Who waited until my father died before he invaded Sendren, which was decent of him. It won't save him. Once the King of Joban is dead, my in-laws and children will fight over the Jobanese throne, and I'll be exiled to some country house. Or killed." She took another hit of alcohol. I went to whistle, discovered I couldn't in dragon shape. I made a tsk-ing noise instead.

"You think Young Perry's going to kill your husband?" She laughed.

"Oh Polo, no, not that nephew. Not Young Perry. My nephew Azrael will kill Col." She said it with an air of finality, as if she'd seen it written. "Even with Kavar mercenaries, Joban by herself isn't strong enough to take Sendren and her allies." I frowned.

"So you think the invasion will fail." She waved a hand, dismissing any other possibility.

"Of course. Azrael has the armies of Sendren and Highcliff, not to mention Acordia and Panswell are bound to step up. Then there's Dragon. I don't know what Perry and Col are thinking, or what their source is thinking, but we cannot win against Dragon and they're not going anywhere. I tried to tell them, but Col pretty much patted me on the head and told me not to worry." But Joban might win if Dragon refused to fight. Had Young Perry engineered that? "This is the most stupid invasion," Kristen was saying, "and I'm about to be a widow. I'm only forty. If I run home to Mother I'll be hung because my own father believed I wanted to kill my brother for the throne." I was so caught up in my thoughts I almost didn't realise what she'd said.

"You really don't want the Sendrenese throne?" She sighed and half-smiled.

"I did when I was younger," she said. "I was an idiot."

"I'm still in that stage. Being an idiot, I mean." She giggled, and so did I. "But I don't want a throne either," I said, "just having a duchy is enough."

"Aye," she said, "losing Robbie made me realise. There's more to life." I couldn't help it, I felt sorry for Kristen.

"You could go to Kavarlen." There she'd be safe, no Kingdom extradition treaty with Kavarlen. She made a gesture, bracelets jingling.

"I wouldn't even know how to find a boat to go there, let alone how to survive when I arrived." I racked my brains. What made a person want to live?

"Don't you have children?" She sighed.

"The children don't need me." I smiled. Most adults didn't seem to remember being young. I did, which I assumed was simply because I wasn't far from being a child. As I got older I discovered that most adults were completely amnesiac over the facts of childhood.

"That's how children are," I said, "the moment they can they try to leave home."

"It's thoughtless," she said, "that's what it is." I wasn't going to argue. She at least stopped drinking and offered the flask to me. Getting drunk seemed a stupid idea so I said no thanks. She tipped it out. Instead we ate the rest of the sandwiches and drank the rest of the coffee. I was trying to get the strength to take to the air. I wanted to see where the Jobanese forces were.

"Have you ever tried to change again?" I said. She shook her head. "Changing shape would help you leave it behind. Like a new beginning. Also, now you know how to change back. Life's sweet, Kristen, especially for the Blood. Go to Kavarlen if you want to start again. You're wearing enough jewels to fund yourself. Don't they say life begins at forty?" I hadn't spent all those years learning hypnotic techniques for nothing. I was being a cad, naturally. Playing every emotional chord I could, more cynically than usual. Usually I was cognisant of the other person's rights and didn't try to hypnotise a woman I was with. Let them do what I wanted because they wanted to too.

This was different. It wasn't sex. I didn't want a war. I would have to fight in a war. Kristen gone to Kavarlen would also take away some of the legitimacy of Joban's plan to rid Sendren of a usurper. I congratulated myself on the ploy, on thinking like a diplomat.

As Theo's last alleged offspring, if Kristen stayed in the kingdoms she could even be crowned, then abdicate in Young Perry's favour, legitimising his claim. Which reminded me, should I kill her? I didn't want to. Especially not when I'd eaten all her sandwiches. Besides, in my current state I was probably in more danger from her than she was from me.

It was better if Kristen lived. Dead, whether killed by me or hung for conspiracy in the murder of the former Crown Prince, she could be used as a martyred figurehead for anyone with a grudge against Azrael, much as everyone in the kingdoms with imperial ambitions was using Young Perry to get their kingdom or duchy into ascendancy. Kristen was a Westwych, and none of them seemed to be actually stupid. I hoped she didn't focus too much on how people at home might view her disappearance. She figured it out in seconds.

"If I run to Kavarlen," she said, "people will think it means I'm guilty." I shrugged.

"Maybe, but they'd know you'd be tortured if you didn't plead guilty, so most at least would be thinking you're right to leave. And it's better than someone deciding to enforce that warrant for murder." I didn't seriously think Azrael would. "You know how it is, not every person who's hung turns out to have been guilty."

"You're right, Polo, screw the kingdoms." I wasn't at all sure she was serious.

"So I can head off," I said, "you're not going to find a cliff?" She laughed.

"No. Thank you again." She was telling the truth, it shone out of her. I was very relieved. "Of course, I might do a Polo and jump out of a tree." She giggled. I sighed, but laughed too.

"I didn't jump, I fell. You know, being able to shape-change and fly isn't how I thought it would be."

"No," she said. "I'm guessing you have a friend nearby, the one who gave you blood the first time you needed it. After you fell through the tree." I glanced upwards. So did she.

"He left a few hours ago. I fell asleep." She nodded.

"You know, Polo, I think I've left my husband. I haven't felt this in charge of my own life since before Father sold me for the good of the kingdom." I was semi-delirious or I wouldn't have opened my mouth.

"Congratulations," I said, "but I don't think the old king was your father. Theo, I mean." I was a hopeless diplomat. I couldn't keep secrets. Theo was dead, how could it hurt? Besides, Kristen was off to Kavarlen to start a new life, it was only fair she could say goodbye to an honest version of the old one.

"What?" Kristen said. "Who was?" I sighed. Young Perry would have told her that Azrael was a usurper. If Kristen was also one, she'd have to support Azrael, and my stupidity in sharing Grandmama's gossip would be forgotten. Azrael had the Dragon ability to heal, something Theo himself had told me his line didn't have, but hopefully Kristen didn't know that.

It suddenly occurred to me that Uncle Theo knew Azrael wasn't his grandson by blood, and had even hinted as much to me just before he died, when he mentioned his line and Saraia's didn't have healing abilities. At the end, Theo had realised the truth of Azrael's parentage, but must have also realised that his own son, the Late Perry, a drunkard, hadn't had the best blood for the heir to Sendren to share. I didn't have time to think about it.

"Um," I said to Kristen, "possibly Great Uncle Nate Westwych? Your Uncle Nate. The person who told me didn't know exactly, but said he was a best guess. I don't think it's common knowledge." I was gabbling but didn't know how to stop. "Your mother can confirm it. It suddenly made sense to me. After all, I assume that's why you can shape-change. Azrael can't, you know." I thought that was a nice diplomatic touch, confirming Azrael's right to be king.

"Uncle Nate? My father?" Kristen was understandably upset, her voice high-pitched. She put one hand over her mouth for a moment. "Oh," she said, talking softly again, "Uncle Nate was always so nice to me, and Father was so nasty. And Mother was embarrassed by my presence. You know, Polo, it all makes sense." She hiccupped, giggled, then pulled herself together almost visibly. "And that's why they wouldn't make me heir when it was obvious that my brother Perry wasn't fit." She sighed. "And why Father took me out of the succession." I nodded, looking solemn, and we sat in silence for a few moments.

"Well," I said, completely delusional and thinking to get out of there before I spilled any more state or family secrets, "I probably should be getting on. I think I might be fit to fly. The wind's heading for Peterhaven at the moment."

"Wait!" said Kristen. "I'm coming with you!" I started to say that I was going as I was, in dragon shape, but suddenly there she was, also in form. "Ha! I did it! Damn, it hurts a lot." I stared for a moment as she wriggled out of the pile of her clothes and jewels and ran up the nearest tree. "Come on," she called down, "I'll race you to Peterhaven." I followed much more slowly.

"Not my usual self," I said, "give me a minute." Above my head, Kristen sounded excited.

"If I take intelligence back, prove my loyalty to Sendren, do you think Azrael might let me be? Let me come home?" I wasn't at all sure.

"Well, I don't know. He didn't like his father. He would have thanked Robert Dunleavy for killing him." Kristen came rushing back down the tree until she was nose-to-nose with me.

"My brother was a drunken prick," she said. "And you know Theo could be a pig when he was drunk."

"Aye," I said, panting, "I've seen him."

"I'm giving up drinking." She turned and scampered back up the tree. "But he's not Azrael's father." I arrived at her level with less vigour.

"He isn't?" I said.

"Gods no," said Kristen. "Azrael's too good looking, for one. Even taking his mother into account. Straight legs and no tendency so far to run to fat? He's not one of our line. They get chunkier with puberty. Uncle Nate, he's the same, though not quite as heavy as Father, I mean, Theo, was. Whereas at puberty Azrael lost his puppy fat and shot up a foot, his mother told me. Say what you like about Young Perry, you can be sure the Late Perry's his father. Or at least one of the line is. Like me. Look at my mother, absolute beauty, but couldn't overcome the bad genes of our branch of the Westwych line with either of her kids."

"The looks we inherit can be from several generations gone," I said, "mine are. But if your brother wasn't Azrael's father then who is?"

"No idea," said Kristen, "Young Perry was telling Col it was a commoner but I suspected that was him trying to make out Azrael's claim to the throne was less valid. Young Perry is really only an acknowledged bastard. He was never my brother Perry's heir in life." She paused. "Do you know," she said, "really?"

"Do I know what?" I said. I had no idea what the question was. I was very tired. She laughed.

"I mean," she said, "do you know who is Azrael's father?" I shook my head.

"I thought it was your brother. I did hear the rumour Young Perry's been putting about, but he's never said who, and Azrael and his mother deny the accusations." I was parroting the official line, trying not to lie because it might be apparent to her when I did. "I didn't know the Late Perry, but from the paintings I've seen, Azrael's the image of his father in colouring, though he does look more like his mother." He did, but only if you didn't know Stefan Westwych, because then you'd be saying he looked the image of Stefan. Stefan was a distant Westwych cousin with the family colouring, the black hair with blue eyes, but not Theo's line.

I hoped Stefan didn't come back now because if Kristen saw him in human form she was bound to guess. Struck by a brainwave, I added, "I assumed the rumours were just Young Perry trying to discredit Azrael. Did you know he tried to kill me several times?" She looked confused.

"Azrael did? I thought you were friends?" I laughed.

"Yes, we are. But Young Perry tried to kill me. We've been enemies since we met, pretty much. No idea why."

"Oh? I thought you were his friend. He specifically said you were to be brought to him unharmed. I heard him telling Col." I grimaced.

"Probably wants to castrate me personally. I'm not exaggerating when I say he hates me. He's ordered me killed several times I know of. Nearly succeeded too. Oh, and he had me kidnapped quite recently, ordered me gelded and enslaved over in Kavarlen." She nodded.

"Maybe he wants rid of you because of the throne?" I gave her a blank look. "I heard you were Azrael's main rival." I laughed.

"I'm not," I said, "I haven't even been in Sendren most of the last four years. No idea why anyone would want to be king, something I told your father a number of times." I remembered Theo wasn't her father. "I mean I told Theo. I wouldn't do it if you paid me." We both laughed at that.

Part of me just wanted to sleep. How long did I have to stay awake? I felt grumpy and ached all over. I stretched my wings, and everything cracked. Hidden in the grove below was that nice waterproof knapsack, and in it more food, and a blanket. A change of clothes. At the size I was, I could curl up in the knapsack and sleep. Snack more. Sleep again. That sounded like a nice idea.

"Right," she said, "I might be a bit rusty at flying." I flapped my wings a bit, testing the wind.

"I'm not very good," I said, "and I'm tired. I want to do a bit of reconnoitring, at a height, then head straight for the citadel." I reasoned that was easier than searching for a garrison, changing shape, then making them believe a naked man. From Peterhaven I'd send one of Lilith's coterie on a quick trip to take the news back to the garrisons that needed to know.

"Fine," said Kristen, flapping her wings too. "Is it far? By air?"

"We can go over the mountains, so an hour? Less if the wind's with us." Or if you had the strength to fly more than a hundred yards. I didn't. I didn't even make it a hundred feet. I landed, panting so hard it was close to wheezing, on an outcrop of rock slightly down the mountain. Kristen came back to see if I was alright and I had to confess I wasn't. "But I'll get back to the trees once I catch my breath." Kristen frowned, looking very sweet in her dragon shape. We could have been dragon twins, both of us small, black, and somehow cuddly. She sharpened her claws on the rock, shredding some moss and putting grooves in the surface. Not so cuddly. I was reminded those claws had shredded a mail shirt I was wearing, straight through it and then down to the flesh, then to the bone. My scars itched. I looked at my forearm. Yes, I could just see the scars. Kristen drew my attention back to the present.

"I can take a message back, Polo, I know my way to Peterhaven from here. How can I prove I was talking to you, that what I say is true?"

"Come on," I said, giving up subterfuge, "back in that grove I have pen and paper, and my seal." I couldn't write, not in anything recognisable as my signature, and asked Kristen to turn her back. I would change back into a man, do a rough report, stamp and sign it, and then Kristen could carry it back. I'd sleep in the grove until morning then stagger to the nearest town.

#### ****

Changing back to human shape was worse than I remembered. I wondered if, as women told me happened with childbirth, my brain couldn't hold onto the full horror of shape-changing, so every time the level of pain was a nasty surprise. I was a bit dizzy but pulled the knapsack out from its hiding place and pulled on clothes, then turned my back while Kristen changed into a human again.

"I'm getting the hang of this," she said, "though I could eat a bloody horse."

"Aye," I said, "it works up an appetite." For the moment I was unable to do more than do up my trousers then sit on the log and pant.

"You're looking peaky," said Kristen. "Are you alright?" I nodded.

"Just exhausted, I broke nearly every bone in my body last night."

"I feel great," she said, "I do feel better, for changing shape. You were right." I couldn't really use a pen properly so Kristen wrote the report, and would add her observations once she'd flown back to Peterhaven. I could at least sign my name, if a little shakily. It didn't look much like me, but my second attempt was even worse.

"Um," said Kristen, looking at it in the light of her torch, "is there something you could say, to let him know it was really you I was talking to?" There were many things, but I had trouble thinking of one that was alright to share.

"Tell him the first night I got out of the army, the girl I was with was one of the barmaids. He's been wondering how I got a woman in the middle of the night. Tell him I didn't magic her through a wall, I used the 'proving I'm still alive' line and it worked." She looked amused.

"Proving you're still alive?" I smiled at the memory.

"I was wounded twice on my last day, ended up on foot being chased by a Sriaman who was using me for target practice. So after that, to prove I was alive, I wanted sex with someone. I might be some ghost walking, you know? Maybe I died back there in that forest and hadn't noticed. So I wanted to touch another, to prove I was still alive." Kristen raised her eyebrows.

"That's a line?"

"No," I said, beginning to smile, "it's the truth. It's why it works so well." She laughed.

"Gods," she said, "I think you must be a terror, Polo Shawcross. Now turn your back, I'm going to change." Once she was done, I dug in my pack for emergency rations and fed them to her. She tried to share but I shook my head.

"You need the energy," I lied, "I just need to sleep." The rain had thankfully stopped, though it was still overcast. "Above the clouds it will be almost clear as day, it's the most amazing sight, the clouds below you. Be bloody careful coming back down through them, that's how I hit the tree." I made her a pack consisting of a small document wallet, our notes, a pen, and the bare minimum of clothes rolled up tight, so she could be decent once she changed at the other end. She hefted the pack, pronounced it fine, then climbed the log where I was sitting, stood on her hind legs and pecked my cheek.

"You take care, Polo, and if you remember, there's some of my jewellery here. I'd appreciate you collecting it once it's light." I said I would, we smiled and said goodbye.

#### ****

I collected the jewellery I could see and packed up as much of everyone's belongings as I had time and energy for, then made myself a hide among the trees. I was staggering with tiredness, but a good warm shelter would keep out the rain, even if it penetrated into the little grove. A corporal in the scouts, a man whose name I couldn't remember, taught me to do it.

Wriggling into the hide, I was glad I took the time to put down boughs to keep me off the ground. A good eight hours sleep would see me awake only an hour after dawn. It started to rain again, heavier than ever, and I listened.

#### ****

## Chapter 10 – Friends and Enemies

I woke up sure I was back in the army. It was dark, raining hard. I was in a hide. Night scouting again. I muffled a sigh, trying to wake up fast. Wait, was I awake or dreaming? More to the point, if I was awake, what had woken me?

There were people talking. They weren't talking Anglic and I froze. As I struggled to make sense of the jumble, I realised they were speaking Kavar. This was the worst kind of army dream.

There were no Kavar in my war. Even in the dream I was wondering what in the name of Thet they were doing there. My hands went instinctively to my weapons and I became aware of several aspects of my situation simultaneously. I wasn't dreaming, nor was I wearing armour, not a scrap, and there were no knives on my person. Although not even half-awake, I had at least figured out which war I was in. I was out of the army, a civilian in a war zone. Worse, I was officially a spy in a war zone and liable to summary justice if the other side found me.

" _Madonna's bloody arse_ ," said someone, obviously not a devout someone. Then there was a muffled cry and a thump. More swearing from the not-devout someone. " _Hold on, sir,"_ said the not-devout man, " _I think we may be off the road again."_ He sounded very sarcastic. " _Just let me strap my ankle so that when I break it properly I don't need to slow down."_

" _Oh shut up, sergeant_ ," said another voice, " _I didn't lose the map on purpose. Instead of sulking, do something useful and figure out which bloody way is north."_

" _I don't get paid enough to think, sir,_ " said the sergeant, sounding very snappy. A snappy sergeant was a dangerous one, every soldier knew that, and any officer who didn't was a fool. The officer had a strange accent and I realised it was because he was Jobanese, speaking Kavar.

" _Sergeant_ ," said the officer, suddenly taking charge, " _get the men into these trees. Let's take a break and wait for the scouts to come back."_

" _Begging your pardon, sir_ ," said another voice, " _how will the scouts know where we are? I can't see ten feet in this rain."_

" _They're scouts_ ," said the Jobanese officer, his turn to sound snappy, " _aren't they? If they can't find a hundred men who smell like you lot, even in the bloody dark, they're no bloody good!_

I was wriggling out of the hide as fast as I could, breaking it up behind me as I went, hoping they wouldn't hear. I turned round, and the first thing I saw was Kristen's silk underwear and more jewels, in a neat pile. Even in the dark they stood out against the grass and leaves as if they glowed. I grabbed Kristen's things, stuffing them into a side pocket of my pack. " _I want the men in the trees_!" shouted the officer.

" _Sir_!" The sergeant sounded panicked. I was feeling that way. A hundred men? Stefan's pack! I slung it on my shoulder. " _Permission to send some men ahead_!" A last frantic scan of the grove then I was out of there, luggage in hand, trying not to leave an obvious trail, moving carefully up the hill, out of and away from the grove just as two Kavar soldiers moved into the far side of it. Rain hit me in the face and tried to get down my collar.

It was a rotten way to wake up. How long had it been since Kristen left? I had a watch but wasn't wearing it and didn't have time to find it. Once I could no longer see the trees I kept going blindly for a hundred feet then stopped. Visibility was down to about ten feet, the soldiers wouldn't see me unless they tripped over me.

I tried to marshal any strength left in me but could feel that I didn't have the energy to change. I could barely walk. I needed to circle down and get off the mountain so went in the direction that felt like both downhill and south. I found an outcrop of rock and hunkered down, going through my pack for a knife, compass, and map. I also wanted a smoke but would forgo that pleasure for now. While collecting myself, I found my watch. It was five in the morning. Nearly dawn.

Someone's footfall sounded softly behind me. I spun round just in time to get hit in the forehead instead of the back of the head. I fell heavily backwards and hit the back of my head against the rock.

#### ****

I came to in the back of a cart, along with a group of Kavar. From their conversation, they were prisoners-of-war. Which war? I remembered some confusion about wars, quite recently. I lay there figuring that out and wondering what had happened. My head hurt. I put my hand up to touch it. I was bandaged. It had been the day before Azrael and Lilith's wedding. Now it was about midmorning. It was the wedding morning. I sat up and said the first thing that came to mind,

"I'm missing the wedding."

" _He's alive_ ," said one of the Kavar.

" _Only barely_ ," I said in the same language. "Driver," I said in Anglic, "I need you to get to the nearest fort immediately."

"It's captain." I had no idea how he expected me to tell that, seeing he had a hessian sack split over his head and shoulders to keep the rain off, obscuring all his rank markings. He looked over his shoulder at me. "And why should I drive you anywhere?" I told him who I was, that I needed to get a message to the Sendrenese forces, and he was quite rude. "Coincidentally, you are going to the nearest fort, because you're under arrest on suspicion of spying and impersonating a Sendrenese during wartime."

"Impersonating a Sendrenese is a crime?" I said.

"Only in wartime," said the captain. Gods. I hated the army.

"I was on a mission for the king," I said, trying to be patient, "our king. I have my papers somewhere." I didn't. I didn't have my bag, and nobody picked up my luggage when they captured me and the lost Kavar. I was also the fifth Polo Shawcross the captain had met in the last twenty-four hours. The Jobanese officer with the Kavar had even said he was me. I looked around the soldiers with us, but none looked familiar and when I asked, none had met the notorious Duke of Starshore. The captain looked a bit askance at me when I sighed and began stripping off my clothes. The Kavar were puzzled then terrified.

Once it was done I barely had the strength to breathe, but the Kavar didn't know that. Wings meant suddenly everyone believed me. The Sendrenese troops were very nice to me, and my presence in form kept the Kavar suitably cowed, so the journey was pleasant enough. I had somehow healed my head wounds so at least that didn't hurt.

Turned out the man who hit me was the captain driving the cart. He was effusively sorry, and shared his sandwiches. They were unexpectedly wonderful, roast pork and applesauce. His wife made them. They were the best thing I'd ever tasted in my life, and gave me back my will to live.

At the fort I stopped for an hour, to give a report, eat more and change shape back to human. I borrowed some fatigues and the captain promised someone would fetch my luggage and have it sent on to Peterhaven. I quietly explained I had a queen's jewellery in there, so perhaps he better send someone very trustworthy.

In the report, after the military and technical observations, I apologised for my absence for at least the next few hours as I was unable to fly and would be coming by road.

#### ****

## Chapter 11 – A Bad Day to be Kavar

As it happened, the Royal party intercepted me as I headed south. I woke from an unquiet sleep to a bunch of the Hangers On peering into my coach, giggling. Then the king pushed them out of the way and sat down opposite me. It was like a bad dream. I was in borrowed clothes and needed a shave and a shower. Azrael was terribly excited.

For a moment, and for the second time that morning, I was sure I was back in the army. Asleep on duty was one of the few crimes a soldier could still be flogged for. Everyone did it, nodded off on duty. The unlucky were caught, either by an officer or Sriamans.

"Mmph?" I said, getting ready to salute, sitting up as if I hadn't been lying down. Why was I sitting down? Who was the civilian? Then I realised who I was and who he was. Belatedly, I remembered where I was. However, I still had no idea what was going on. "Good morning, Your Majesty," I said, wondering if he was a dream or a hallucination. In case he was real and as the Royal Court were tittering within earshot, I'd stick to protocol and try not to offend the king.

"Polo!" said Azrael. "Good morning. Did you really see the Kavar mercenaries?"

"Azrael?" I reached out and touched him. He gave me the kind of look a friend gives a friend when mistaken for a ghost. As if you're crazy.

"What are you on, Polo?" he said. I shook my head.

"Oh, you're real, Azrael. Sorry. I'm not on anything, more's the pity. Though I confess, I thought you might be a hallucination. I'm very tired. If you're interested, as part of our continuing research into dragon-shape, I can report that mending bones while changing form hurts like buggery. Did I miss the wedding?"

"Buggery doesn't hurt if you're doing it right," he said in a cheery tone, though he kept his voice down, "you taught me that. As for the wedding, not sure what's happening, we might have it tomorrow." I tried to focus, but still could not figure out when tomorrow was, or even perhaps where today was.

"Aye," I said, sticking with what I knew, "I did see the Kavar, or some of them. Briefly before they were captured by our brave troops. I particularly recommend the pork with applesauce." I paused, sure there was something wrong with my answer. "Oh, and of course I'll teach you. I can't guarantee it will work. It's just what's worked for me. I'm not really sure how I do it, to be honest." He laughed.

"You're all over the place, are you sure you aren't on anything?" I sighed and rubbed my eyes.

"Just more tired than I've ever been in my life. Got any coffee?"

"Of course." I was soon set up with a proper picnic, but my coach was turned round and moving back north. Azrael gabbled happily about prisoners and the likelihood that the war would be won before afternoon teatime, while I had an early lunch and told him anything I thought useful. Just before mid-afternoon we caught up with the army to find the war was, as predicted, over. I was so relieved I felt light-headed.

We went into a town from the west, while to the east thousands of Jobanese were walking home. The king's party was escorted through smiling and cheering throngs to the town square. The townspeople had been in the path of the invaders so were really very pleased Sendren had prevailed. I watched a column of Jobanese trudging along, sheaths empty, weapons surrendered. Sendren would return their weapons and whatever else at the Crown's pleasure, which simply meant Azrael wasn't sure how to deal with it, but making them carry their own weapons home seemed perhaps foolhardy so Sendren would probably foot the bill for the wagons required or if we were feeling miffed, for the furnace time to melt them all down. Lines of men were handing over swords and shields, then simply turning and heading for the border.

Still in the clothes I stood up in, I had to shake hands with generals and witness the official surrender of the Jobanese forces, though they had already surrendered unofficially and disarmed. Then their officers were allowed to leave too. It was cold and breezy but at least the rain had stopped. The Kavar mercenaries were all corralled, unarmed, in the town square. There were army engineers swarming round, putting up some seating. We were a bit late, the official surrender over. I assumed Azrael was going to ransom the Kavar or something. "Great Uncle Nate's invented the most marvellous contraption," said Azrael.

"Great Uncle Nate's contraptions are never marvellous," I said, muffling a yawn and wondering how soon I could sneak away to nap, "let me guess, it does something cruel?"

"Depends what you think is cruel," he said, "I want them to understand Sendren won't tolerate them allying with our enemies." I was about to ask who they were when some wagons came into the square, laden with lengths of timber. Azrael nudged me. "This is it. Whole thing fits on four eight-horse wagons." I looked at the marvellous contraption. The wagons stopped, and the engineers began ordering the unloading immediately.

"It?" I said. "Azrael? I saw something like this once, but smaller. The army uses them. Portable gallows."

"Exactly. This," he said, and waved at the wagons being unloaded, "will do a hundred men at once." I stared.

"What? Zol's balls, what for?" Azrael made a blithe gesture.

"It will be christened on the Kavar. Only fitting. It's a capital crime in the Sendren, to fight against us as a mercenary." I was so shocked that I hadn't even made it to sputtering point when the king was called away. I looked around, saw Fenric, who was going off-duty, handing over to the next shift. He jerked his head at me, signifying a need to talk, so we ducked down a side-street for a smoke. His face was sombre.

"He's not seriously going to hang them all?" I said as I lit my pipe. "It's some kind of ruse, right?"

"Sadly not," said Fenric. "Do you know how we won the war?" I breathed out some smoke.

"Um, we were lucky with the weather and I heard their maps were wrong?" He nodded, breathing out his own smoke.

"Aye," he said, "the Crown fed incorrect intelligence to someone sympathetic to Young Perry, misleading Joban over Sendrenese troop numbers and Dragon's preparedness to defend the kingdoms on a front this far away from either Sriama or Redoubt. The intelligence also implied most of Dragon wouldn't be visiting for the wedding. Among the paperwork Young Perry presented to the King of Joban were maps a thousand years out of date." I noticed some moss growing between the stones of the wall I was leaning against. A little outpost of green. Galaia would take over if you let her, and cover The World with her green skin. She would cover the bones of the dead too.

"Is it just me," I said softly, "but with Young Perry telling Uncle Colin that we don't have many troops, Azrael's not his father's son, and Dragon are pulling out of the kingdoms, weren't Joban pretty much bound to invade? Seeing Aunt Kristen is closest blood to the throne after Young Perry and the closest legitimate heir?" Fenric touched the side of his nose to indicate I had the situation correctly but that it was not the public perception of what had happened. An ant walked along the mortar until it reached the moss then stopped and began to burrow in.

"Aye," Fenric said, "the Sendrenese Crown apparently fomented a war."

"Galaia preserve us," I said, forgetting that now the war was over I was an atheist again. Fenric shrugged. The ant reappeared, dragging a grain of mortar, then went back for more. I blinked and looked back at Fenric. "Azrael knew about it," I said, "or even arranged it, you're sure?" He sighed, head close to mine, both of us leaning casually.

"I can't prove it."

"But you're sure." It wasn't a question. He wouldn't be looking so damn unhappy if he thought otherwise.

"Aye, I wish I wasn't," he said, and I shook my head.

"Aye. Me too. What are you going to do?"

"I did it. I quit." I gasped. Fenric quit? I shook myself.

"Quit the Royal Guard?" I said.

"Aye, that shift I just finished was my last."

"What day is it?" I said as I lit another pipe. He laughed.

"You don't know what day it is?" he said. I gestured to my head.

"You know I'm not good when I've just woken up. Or when I've nearly died. I was knocked out several times last night. Hit a tree. It was spectacular. Broke nearly every bone in my body." He shook his head at me and managed a chuckle.

"I have no bloody idea how you survived in the army." I waved my pipe.

"Good horses," I said, "lots of training. Me and the horses. I even took up running again, hoping to get away if accidentally unhorsed. You know I can't run fast, but I can keep going. Other reasons for my survival include buying the best bloody equipment, an inborn ability to suck up to the brass, and relations in high places." He laughed properly.

"Pretty much how I made it through. It's Saturday by the way, the wedding was supposed to be this morning. Instead we had a war."

"Are you really quitting right away?" I said through an exhalation of smoke.

"Aye," said Fenric. "I offered him a month's notice. He said I don't have to serve it, thanks for everything, would I like a reference? Do just ask," he added, exactly like Azrael would. "I said I was going to ask you for a job."

"I'd be pleased and I'm sure the others will be happy to have you." I tapped out my pipe. He looked thoughtful.

"What as?" he said. I shrugged and began packing another pipe. I needed the calming effect if I was going to try to argue with Azrael over hanging the Kavar.

"I don't know. I can't remember what everyone's titles are. You can be Ducal Security Co-ordinator. Sit on your arse and ask Ross and Archie if I'm still alive and what they're doing to keep me that way. Monitor my ducal security's actions in the duchy and kingdoms. I swear Archie's got files on everyone in Sendren. Make sure he's not gone crazy. Remind me to put my armour on." He nodded. "You know, be my friend, really. Like the others."

"Alright," he said, smiling, "I need something to do." I smiled too.

"Deal it is," I said, and offered my hand. We shook then fell to smoking for a moment. I tried to watch the ants in the moss. It was no use, I couldn't stop thinking about it. "Azrael really deliberately started a war?" I said. "Tricked Joban into attacking?" Fenric nodded.

"Aye," he said, "get this. The double agent, the one who fed the Jobanese the wrong information?" I nodded. "It was Indigo Sutherland."

"Oh," I said, "Azrael must have known what was being passed on, if it was Indigo. The Jobanese would also trust it because he's Azrael's, um, latest?" Fenric nodded. "Kristen," I said, suddenly remembering I'd sent her to Azrael, "the Queen of Joban, did she arrive alright?" Fenric grimaced.

"She's imprisoned. She was found inside the citadel grounds, apparently with a message from you. It was passed on but Azrael had her arrested."

"Oh dear," I said, "he's having her charged with the Late Perry's murder?" Fenric nodded. Didn't they know she could change shape? Maybe she hadn't been able to. I'd have to use my influence.

At last I had a use for it. I'd always thought I'd have to use my influence saving Father from gaol or Mother from a murder charge.

"Aye," said Fenric, "the charges were made and never dropped, so they have to go before a judge before she can be released. King says it will have to wait until after the wedding." I winced. Poor Kristen.

"I didn't think he'd arrest her," I said. "What about Dragon?"

"Dragon are on our side. Well, most of them are. Along with Azrael's misinformation, Dragon's aerial reconnaissance was very important because with the weather our scouts would have had to trip over the invaders to find them. We can't rely on you to survey the whole country."

"Aye," I said, "it's a lot for one man to take on. And Young Perry?" He breathed out a stream of smoke.

"Little worm stayed in Joban, then the moment things started going badly he took off down the river. Be on the east coast by now." I sighed.

"By the way, Archie and Ross should be in Peterhaven. Remind me to tell them you're hired. And whatever we said your job title was. They're still independent, but I want your insight so they're to keep you in confidence. If they seem uneasy over your appointment, tell me. I don't want bad feeling." He smiled.

"Aye, Your Grace." I smiled.

"Call me Polo, thank you, Fenric."

"Even in public?" I nodded.

"Aye, even in public. It's the same with all my staff. Some of them refuse, but I do make the offer. Oh, I suppose formal occasions, like in front of the Hangers On, you'll have to keep to protocol. Like I do with Azrael. Like you did with Azrael. You're my friend first, mate. Tell me when I'm being an idiot." He smiled. I clapped him on the shoulder. "I probably won't always listen." He laughed.

"We continue as usual," he said, and I grinned.

"Aye, exactly. Now," I said, and tapped out my pipe, "come on, let's walk. I have to talk to Azrael about his over-reaction in killing the Kavar. Take the highest-ranking officer and hang him if you want to make an example. All the enlisted men will idolise you, you've made your point, enough." Fenric shook his head.

"That's a really bad idea, Polo. Not the notion, just you mentioning it. Don't give him a chance to hang you." I scoffed.

"For arguing with him?"

"He's the king. You cut his nuts off in public, people will talk." I bit my lip. I could see his point.

"Oh," I said, "well I'll try to be tactful." Fenric scowled. I smiled. "If he hangs me and you ever need coin, the first cave past Port Azrael to the east has a help chest buried. Only you, I, and Master Thomas the Steward know about it, so once I'm gone act smartly. Twenty paces in there's a dead-end passage to your right, inside there's a slope of sand to your left. It's right there under the sand."

"I've changed one idiot for another," Fenric muttered, just loud enough for me to hear.

"I can't let Azrael hang those men, Fenric, be reasonable. Come on, let's go find him."

#### ****

As I moved to stand next to the king, Fenric's presence at my side wasn't questioned. Admittedly the people weren't looking at us. Instead they were watching the gallows, where a victorious general was reading out the king's proclamation that sentenced the Kavar to death.

As I took a breath to plead with Azrael, everything went black.

#### ****

## Chapter 12 - Crazy People

I woke in a coach. With a headache. Fenric was sitting next to me. The deja vu hit so hard I shut my eyes for a moment. Who was I again? Last thing I remembered was being with Fenric and Azrael.

"Fenric?" I said. I tried to sit up and discovered I was still very weak. Someone had tucked a blanket tightly over the top of me and it took me moments to free myself.

"Your head may hurt," said Fenric. I frowned.

"It does." He handed me a pipe.

"Sorry," he said, "I coshed you. As head of your security, it was the only way to keep you safe." I thought I'd misheard him.

"Did you say you coshed me?"

"Also as your friend." I began to smile.

"Really?" He shook his head at me.

"Aye, idiot. There's people round Azrael would love the chance to put you up on that scaffold." I said it wasn't true, but secretly wondered if it was, while Fenric ignored my protestations and checked me for signs of concussion. I was alright. "I said you'd collapsed after your adventures overnight," he said, "and I'd get you back to Peterhaven. Himself loves you like a brother and more, but don't forget you're his political enemy."

"I am not." He shook his head.

"You disagree with the king, Polo, and aren't afraid to say so in public. That makes you his enemy. You need to hold your tongue. I won't be able to knock you out at every bloody hanging." I took a hit on the pipe.

"You might have killed me. What did you knock me out with?" He showed me the lead-filled cosh that could be snapped out from a forearm holster disguised as part of his sleeve.

"I know how hard to hit a man so as not to kill him," he said. I rubbed my head.

"You hit Aunt Kristen's lover so hard you killed him." Fenric slid the cosh away and made a shooing motion at me.

"He'd just killed the Crown Prince and was strangling the king at the time. I think I was entitled to overdo it the once. Get some sleep." That sounded like a good idea.

"How far are we from Peterhaven?" I said.

"An hour or so, we've just changed horses."

#### ****

We dozed on the cushioned seats. I tried not to think about what Fenric had taken me away from, instead focusing on the ramifications of a king prepared to court a war. Presumably he could hope that, by crushing Joban some of the less co-operative kingdoms would join his united kingdoms with no further show of force required.

What ethical code did Azrael have if he could pretend to hold the moral high ground while tricking someone into invading? I imagined people would think highly of him for saving the kingdom from the evil Kavar. The Jobanese would be portrayed as misguided former allies, sure to be allies again. Nice bit of public relations.

Nobody would grieve for the mercenaries. I hoped the dead weren't holding grudges. I wished I could hide away in Port Azrael and that massacres and political machinations weren't part of my life.

When we arrived back it was getting dark. I gave my servants the night off, then called a meeting of my security advisers currently in Peterhaven. I just had time for a shower before Fenric found Ross, and we three settled in the sitting room off the bedroom. I made sure the servants were gone from the main part of the suite – they had rooms past my dressing room, with a separate entrance - and then we locked and barred the outside doors. Anyone who wanted in would have to knock.

"Am I the only one," I said, "who thinks Himself is acting crazy?" Ross rolled his eyes and Fenric scowled.

"I've been telling you," said Ross, "since you got back from the army." Fenric nodded.

"But he's always been a bit crazy," I said. "How was I to know?"

"He married a crazy woman," said Fenric, his scowl deepening, "that was a clue."

"Most men I know marry crazy women," I said, "it didn't make it obvious. She's beautiful and comes with Highcliff as a dowry." I sighed. "Even knowing her as I do, I'd be tempted."

"No you wouldn't," said Fenric, "you told him not to marry her, that she was crazy."

"I also let him read my diary," I said, "where I said the same in writing."

"I did tell you he was acting weird," said Ross, looking serious, "he keeps talking about Alexander. How he was gay but nobody thought he was less of a man for it." I sighed.

"Acting gay isn't crazy," I said. I was wondering if I was back in denial over the king.

"Alexander left his homeland to rot," said Fenric, "while he kept trying to conquer every new country he came across."

"Addicted to conquest," said Ross. "Like a man who can't settle with one woman but has to try a new one every night."

"Azrael's only just getting started," I said, looking at my fingers, then up to see they were looking at me. "Oh come on," I said, "of all people, you lot know I don't have a different girl every night." They laughed. "Anyway," I said, wanting to change the subject, "what about Dragon? Is the tribe splitting?"

"That was a rumour put about by Azrael," said Ross, quite firmly, "and the Dragon queen. It's half-true."

"I was there when it was decided to put about the rumour that it's a manufactured rumour," said Fenric. Ross and I gasped at that. "Truth is about a third of them are talking about leaving. They reckon they're going to fly off somewhere. Or maybe take a ship."

"Not the starship?" I said, and I must have sounded panicked because they all suddenly focused on me.

"I meant," said Fenric, "a sailing ship."

"Dragon can't leave their descendants behind, Polo," said Ross, stretching, " _Delta Queen_ can't leave. It's the Law. They can leave Lilith here in Sendren and go to live somewhere west but they can't leave the planet."

"The Law of Sendren?" I asked, because it seemed more than that.

"Dragon Law," said Ross. They looked at me with their cat's-eyes that showed they were Dragon's descendants. I was beginning to think politics really made no sense at all. Nobody ever answered me if I asked straight out so I tried a more oblique approach.

"Do any of you have any favourites in the upcoming Dragon Schism?"

"Not Lilith," said Fenric. "But that's personal. She has the numbers."

"I'm apolitical," said Ross when I looked at him. "I'm sure Archie has a report on it for you." I frowned. I needed to send a message to Archie.

"Why do people dislike Lilith?" I said. "I mean yes, I'm sure she has her faults, but I only know one."

"Manipulating people's minds for her own gain," said Ross, "to put it succinctly."

"That was what I was thinking," I said, though in my naivety I was only thinking of her reading minds. The older men all nodded. "It struck me that it could be untraceable unless she was stupidly clumsy or showed you what she was doing."

"She only tried once with me," said Ross, "but apparently I have some skill, I sent her back something so weird she never tried again." Of course we wanted to know what and Ross admitted it involved sandpaper, nails and a hammer, a cactus, and restraints. "Not that I'd ever seen what I suggested, but if she opens that channel it's two-way." He grinned. "I pretended to be a sadist. I was channelling Uncle Nate." I suddenly remembered the hanging Fenric dragged me away from.

"You didn't want to see it either, Fenric," I said. He gave me a blank look. "The hangings, with Uncle Nate's fabulous new machine."

"I think he said it was a marvellous new machine," said Fenric, and shook his head. "Lilith was still trying with me but it turned out quitting the Royal Guard did the trick. I ran into her, she began, I said I'd quit, and bang. No more pretty pictures."

"I had no idea Lilith would be doing this," I said, "no wonder everyone in Redoubt learns to shield while still at school."

"We're not from Redoubt," said Fenric. "I was born in Idriss." That was up the west coast from Torc. "I did live in the south, but most of my schooling was in the west. After my father died, my mother moved us back there. Her family were mostly there."

"We really don't want a schism," said Ross. I looked at him.

"I thought you were apolitical," I said. He shrugged.

"I'm not stupid."

"I can shield my mind from her now. Maybe I can show you how?" They nodded. I sighed. "Do I really have to stay in Peterhaven?" I knew I did. They obligingly gave me the reasons.

"He's king," said Fenric, "you're summoned. Unless you'd like to try some kind of insurrection just to get out of attending Court?" I swore for a while, but there wasn't much to be done. Instead I began coaching them in shielding their minds.

Thanks to my experience with Murray down in Redoubt, it was quite easy to teach them then test their defences. Ross took notes. It occupied us until dinner. To my surprise they both found achieving a protected mind comparatively simple.

"I think," said Fenric, "that as we don't have your skills, we don't have as much to cover up."

"Aye," said Ross, "what I was thinking. Not as much telepathy to block." I wasn't sure why they found it so easy. Perhaps it was because they were all older and wiser but, whatever the reason, they were happily safe from Lilith's wiles. I felt oddly disgruntled. "You know," said Ross, "it's not been just Fenric and me Lilith's had a go at, so I might wander. See who else wants to learn. It's pretty simple, the technique." Yes, disgruntled.

In barely hours they completely mastered something that took me weeks.

#### ****

## Chapter 13 - Virtuosity

The next day I surfaced by lunchtime, serene in my decision to forget about the Kavar and look after my own neck.

The king was my first stop, but he was out. I left a message that I was at his disposal for lessons and particularly wanted to talk to him about Kristen. Lunch was just starting and I was lucky to get a seat. They were doing four sittings, hustling diners in and out on strict timings. I had never seen so many Blood.

My quarters were in the citadel at the top of the hill. Along with an entry hall, one entered into a large sitting room, then to the right was a smaller sitting room, my bedroom, dressing room, bathroom, and then quarters for Bernard and Bryce. To the left of the main sitting room were another two bedrooms, dressing rooms and two small bathrooms plus servants quarters – all usually unused - where my bodyguards were staying.

We heard that down in the new fort where visitors and servants usually stayed, every bed was taken, and some of the visiting servants were even on bunk-beds in marquees in the grounds.

After eating, I set about discharging various other obligations. First, I wanted to see Kristen, but her being on treason charges meant I wasn't allowed. I wondered why she didn't turn into a dragon and get out of there. I called on the Royal Keeper of the Prison, who said I could write and send gifts, though of course my letters would be read and gifts carefully inspected.

Via Bernard, I sent a note with my gifts. The Keeper said she was allowed to write back so some pens and paper – in case she didn't have any - a pipe with some mindweed, and some of the king's bakery treats. The Keeper said she would be allowed prison matches to smoke the pipe with. The note just said I didn't have her jewellery yet but someone was collecting it. If it proved to be missing I was happy to help financially in my limited ducal fashion. I asked if there was anything else she needed. I added I hadn't spoken to Azrael on her behalf yet but would when he granted me some time.

That done, Citadel Admin was my next stop, where a check of the Royal Book of the Guests discovered my mother was gone to Starshore but the king's mother was still in hospital, so I went into town, my hair under a hat, the bodyguards in tow, then went to see Saraia. She had both legs in traction.

"Polo," she said, looking drawn and thin, but smiling, "where have you been?" I could see the pain. It shows.

"Didn't Azrael tell you?" I said. "I did your trick and fell out of the sky." I told her the story and laid out some presents. "Books," I said, "wasn't sure what you liked, so thought a selection of my favourites." We chatted about inconsequential things then I asked about her legs.

"They're still mine," she said. Her jaw set hard under the skin. "Doctors say I may be able to walk with a stick."

"I heard, and that you don't have any healing ability. That must be making it hard."

"Aye," she said, "though I've learned to meditate, that's useful. It helps, the doctors say it provides a kind of healing. It does help with the pain." I decided now was a good time to mention an idea that had occurred.

"I think there's a way you could get the ability to heal," I said. She focused on me the way a bird of prey focuses on a rabbit.

"How?" she said. I wasn't sure of the science but tried to lay it out sensibly.

"Dragon can be born, but did you know they can be made?" I saw by her expression she hadn't, so explained in more detail. "We get donations of blood, extract the draconium and give it to you. You become full Dragon and, in theory at least, can heal your legs. I'm sure Stefan's seen it done."

"Become Dragon?" said Saraia, and I nodded.

"They've done it before, though maybe not recently. With the numbers of full Dragon and Blood in the citadel, now might be a really good time to try doing it. If it works you'll be healed. It's supposed to be painful, traumatic even, but everything's relative, right?"

"Anything's better than this," she said, gesturing angrily at her legs, "do you know where Stefan is?"

"I haven't seen him for-," I said, and suddenly remembered I hadn't seen him since he left to take word of the Jobanese troop movements, "-a day or so. You know Lilith banned us, Stefan and me, from the wedding? Well, not completely, just as members of the wedding party." She looked surprised.

"I'm so starved for gossip," she said, and thumped the mattress with a fist, pretending to be melodramatic, "but weren't you best man?" I nodded.

"Aye, and Stefan was being proxy parent-in-charge."

"That woman," she said, and curled her lip. "I can't believe my son is marrying her."

"I can't either. But he is." She frowned.

"You really can make Dragon?" I nodded.

"Aye," I said, "not me personally, but it was in a reference book, one written by Dragon. ' _The first Dragon were made, not born'_ , that's a quote from the book on Dragon's origins. Dragon were made from adult humans using artificial draconium at first, which was very difficult. As more Dragon were created or born, their blood was harvested to provide a more stable form of draconium, and more Dragon were created. Some were even egg-born before the first ones were born in the normal way."

"They were?" I nodded but didn't mention either Stefan or Lilith, both egg-born.

"Aye, draconium still wasn't very stable and the process was, I think 'harrowing' was the word they used, so they only used the extraction method in the very beginning or later when a human really wanted to be Dragon. Do you want me to put some people on it? I'm sure there's someone in the Dragon contingent who knows how to extract and then administer it. Or maybe Stefan does. I'll ask him."

Feeling virtuous, I finally remembered I hadn't seen Maggie or heard from her. Bernard confirmed no reply had arrived.

It was a month since our dalliance in the cupboard.

#### ****

## Chapter 14 – Virtue is Its Own Reward

Back at Citadel Administration, I asked about Stefan and was told he was down in the New Fort. I sent a message to pass on my idea for helping Saraia with draconium, with the suggestion to do it now while we had so many around the citadel with high concentrations of draconium in their blood. There was no mail waiting for me. When I asked where Maggie Hunter was, they said she wasn't there.

"She's left the citadel?" I said.

"Gone home for a holiday, Your Grace," said the rather pretty lass on the desk. Rosemary, her nametag said. The nametags were new. It was Azrael's idea, thinking to stop the Blood treating the servants as if they weren't people. I thought it would take more than that, but it was a nice gesture.

"That's a shame," I said, "any idea when she's back?" Rosemary checked.

"Sorry, no, but I do know she's not back on the roster for the next week, and she's been gone about a week."

"Thanks," I said. "You don't know if her mail would be forwarded to her home?" Rosemary shook her head.

"Not usually, Your Grace, unless it was marked urgent or she'd requested it." She lowered her voice, offering a confidence. "She's just gone home for a visit, far as I know. Her family live at West Taunton, over near the border with Highcliff." It was about a half-day ride. She smiled. "Are you trying to retrieve a letter? I can look if you like. Mail's held here."

"Oh," I said. I realised Rosemary thought I was chasing words I regretted writing. "No, I don't want the letter back, just checking she's received it. It would have come from Cragleas, sender Polo Shawcross." I completely forgot the letter was sent via king's messenger so would have been delivered to wherever she happened to be.

I wondered about popping across to West Taunton, maybe get to know Maggie a little outside the Court, but I might be intruding, especially if she was visiting family. Rosemary sent another lass to check for mail, and we chatted while she disappeared into the cavernous mail rooms, which I once spent a Saturday in when I was sixteen, and said so. It gave me an in to start a conversation.

Rosemary preferred Rosie and was twenty-one like me. I was about to say please, call me Polo, when her friend came back and said there was nothing waiting for Maggie. They both disappeared to double-check, returning together to say it definitely wasn't there so Maggie must have got it.

"Thanks very much for your help, ladies." They smiled at me. I smiled back. They were both rather attractive. Kelly, the second one, was softly curvy and giggled a lot. Rosie was less curvy and taller. She looked me in the eye.

"Is she your lady, Your Grace?" she said. I shook my head, smiling. Did I need to pay attention to matters of state? Screw the state, I couldn't remember the last time I had sex. I contemplated a threesome. How long was it since I'd had sex? I'd have to ask Bernard. I'd looked in the diary before I left, there was nothing that needed my attention today and if the king had time to see me he would send for me.

"Maggie's not my lady," I said, trying to smile without being too smarmy, "I'm single."

"How lovely," she said, and glanced at her friend, "we're single too, Your Grace." I could take a hint. Feeling cheerful, I said,

"Please, call me Polo. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Rosie," I said, and smiled, "and Kelly, a pleasure." They said likewise. "Don't suppose you two are off work any time soon?" They looked at each other. Rosemary said,

"We both get off at three." I looked at my watch.

"That's handy. Want to have afternoon tea in my suite? Queen's Mews-"

"Aye," said Rosie, "we know. You've only had that suite for five years."

"And it's next to the king's rooms," said Kelly.

"Well," I said, "I was away for a while, wasn't sure if anyone remembered. I'll have tea waiting for you." I didn't say what else I might have ready. They knew.

Sex in the citadel, or in any of the various palaces and great houses, wasn't unusual, people being what they were. Most jobs had three different shifts over the twenty-four hours, and there were limited work hours over the week with rostered days off, so even guards, servants, and Royal appointees had time for dalliances and affairs. The Court and visiting Blood always had time. Many visited looking for sex. True, some were looking for coin or a permanent partner, but nearly everyone was looking for sex. It was a wonderful place.

Rosie was the boss of Kelly, who had dimples everywhere, something Rosie and I investigated with our tongues. Once we'd had a rather spectacular afternoon tea, of course. It may have been my suggestion that we decorate Kelly's dimples with berries and cream. Then we tried to lick her clean.

Gods, it was good to lose myself in giving pleasure. And a little later, it was naturally rather splendid to be on the receiving end of still more pleasure from two women showing genuine signs of oral fixation. The afternoon passed quickly and the sun set without us noticing.

We surfaced, sticky with sweat, strawberries, and each other. Not for the first time, I blessed my good fortune in having my own shower room. We washed each other then played under the water for a while. Dinnertime arrived, we were hungry, and still hungry for each other, so Bryce, the night man, arranged for food to be delivered. We stayed in the smaller sitting room, handy for the bedroom. Though it was the smaller room, there was room for a lounge area and a dining table that could seat twelve. Much cosier than the main sitting room.

The girls and I had an interesting talk over the meal and I caught up on more of the citadel gossip. Always good to get the peasant's point of view. Afterwards we picked lazily at cheese and biscuits, getting our strength up for the next round. I told Bryce he could go. I'd fetch coffee if needed. Rosie sat on my lap feeding me peeled grapes, part of a joke we were making about my biographer.

Rosie was hoping the scene would make it into the next book, because then we'd know either I was writing them, she or Kelly was or, and this was her suspicion, my quarters were being watched.

"So anyway," she said, blinking, "they're bound to say it's how the notorious Polo Shawcross lived."

"With pretty girls feeding him peeled grapes," I said, laughing.

"Exactly! By making your own outragerous-"

"Outragerous?" I said. Kelly giggled.

"Outragerous?" she echoed.

"Outrageous!" said Rosie with a squeal. "The reader will think I'm ignorant now." We all giggled, and I was reminded a giggling woman on your lap is one of life's great joys. I told them so. "Aye," said Rosie, determined to make her point, "anyway, we're pre-empting their manufactured stories, by making your life into, into?" She looked at us. I looked back, thinking her lips around my cock were also one of the finest things in life, but decided to keep that to myself in case I could prove conclusively that someone was sieving my mind.

"I might be writing them," I said, "and getting amnesiac about it."

"That's getting longer odds in the Servant Halls," said Kelly. "Up to ten to one. A few years ago, you were the favourite. So, Rosie, what was it you were saying? Polo's life," she said, waving her glass of wine carefully, "becoming art. Wait, are books art?"

"Art and literature," said Rosie. I nodded. That sounded right.

"Arts?" I said. "Sometimes they're separate. Like books are art, but also literarture." They both giggled. I realised what I'd said and giggled too. Rosie's bottom clenched and unclenched. The heat coming off her was making me hard again.

"I think that Hiram Westwych should paint you like this," Rosie said, "you're not as fierce as you look in the paintings."

"He painted me with my helmet off," I said. Kelly laughed then Rosie got it. She bounced on me.

"Oh Polo," she said, snorting, "you're dreadful."

"What?" I said, one arm holding onto her while the other was reaching for a wineglass.

"Helmet off," said Rosie. Then I got it.

"Oh," I said, and laughed too. The night had reached that slightly disjointed level where drunkenness was both necessary and excellent. Rosie slid off my lap, I let her go.

"I want more of the Torcan cheese," she said, "it's the best I've tasted, I think."

"Better than the servants' rations?" I said. "I thought we ate the same?"

"Oh we do," she said, "this is just wonderful cheese. I started in the kitchens, I know we all eat the same."

"Do we?" said Kelly.

"Oh aye," said Rosie, "often the servant food is called something common, and the Blood's called something posh, but it's the same. Cold beef jelly with toast soldiers in the Servant Hall is beef consomme with toast wafers when they serve it to the Blood." She carefully assembled several savoury biscuits, each with a slice of the salty Torcan cheese, a soft creamy blue, and after some thought, which I watched, smiling, she put a sliver of radish and one of cucumber on top, then carefully added a scattering of pepper before returning to my lap. I cuddled her while she fed one to me, one to Kelly, and then ate one too. "Mmm," she said. She was right, the Torcan cheese was excellent. Kelly said she'd had enough food so next round was just me and Rosie.

Hedonism was doing good things to my tension levels. Rosie fed me another cracker piled with titbits, a firmer yellow cheese with a little rich red tomato, sliced thin, and a shred of fragrant basil. There was a knock at the door.

"I'll get it," said Kelly, jumping up and wiping her mouth, "anyone I shouldn't let in?" She smoothed herself down, patted her hair.

We'd all pretended to dress for dinner. Kelly was the most decorous of us all, with a dress pulled on over no underwear. Rosie was wearing one of my dressing gowns with the sleeves rolled up and I had a dressing gown over trousers, but only the trousers were done up. I was still chewing, and nodded assent that Kelly could let anyone in. She tripped off to the entrance hall off the next room. Rosie fed me another biscuit, more of the Torcan blue.

"Mmm," I said, just as Kelly came back in.

"Look who's here," she said, and ushered in Maggie, who took one look at us and flushed scarlet. I confess I felt my cheeks get hot, then tried to swallow and choked on the biscuit.

"Oh sorry," said Maggie, and turned on her heel. A strangling cough was my contribution. Maggie snapped at Kelly as she stalked out, something about,

"You could have told me!" Kelly was suddenly crestfallen. Rosie and I were still frozen, though I banged on my chest, trying to breathe. We heard the outer door shut with a bang. Rosie got off my lap. I grabbed my wine and washed the biscuit away.

"Oh Kel," said Rosie, "why did you let her in?" Kelly looked as if she might cry.

"I'm sorry, Polo," she said. I got up, tying my dressing gown, thinking I'd better go after Maggie.

"It's alright, Kelly, really," I said, "was just a surprise. I wasn't expecting anyone. I thought it might be the king. He doesn't mind pretty girls."

"Not what I heard," Rosie said, very softly. I pretended not to hear.

"Maggie seemed upset," said Kelly, looking anguished. I nodded.

"Wouldn't you be? If you dropped in to say hello to someone you'd only met once and accidentally disturbed some people having fun?" Kelly thought that was plausible. "It's just embarrassing. Cheer up, I'll go talk to her, be right back."

"She seemed jealous to me," said Rosie, and thoughtfully ate another biscuit. I shrugged, it was possible. I gave Rosie a squeeze before heading for the door, and kissed Kelly as I went.

"It's alright, really," I said softly, "don't worry."

#### ****

## Chapter 15 – Striking Out

Outside, I looked around. I couldn't see Maggie, which meant either she'd bolted past Azrael's suite and round the nearest corner, or was gone down a servant way. I guessed she must have run so jogged round the corner. Sure enough, there she was, not running anymore but moving fast. I ran after her, calling. She looked around. For a few moments I wasn't sure if she'd stop, but she did. Stood there tapping her foot with her arms folded. Gods, she was prettier than I remembered. I smiled. Her mouth was set in one of those straight lines that never bode well. She wasn't in uniform, more casual in a soft green dress with a dark grey cloak.

"Maggie," I said as I reached her, "it's good to see you."

"Really?" she said.

"Really," I said, smiling.

"Well?" She frowned at me.

"Well?" I said, then caught her look. "Sorry, I'm drinking you in. You look lovely. What do I have to apologise for?" She breathed out as if trying to keep her temper then frowned again.

"Well," she said. "I'm not sure." That was a good start.

"I wrote, did you get it?" Her lips pursed this time. I braced myself.

"A king's messenger arrived at my parents' house. It was mortifying!" Despite bracing, my jaw dropped. "I was trying to persuade them that me being at the citadel didn't mean I was being a bad girl. Bad in their eyes is definitely getting letters from Polo Shawcross!"

"Oh?" I said. "Gods, sorry, I didn't realise that would happen. I was stuck down in Cragleas, the messenger was heading back here to Peterhaven. It was just a quick way to send a note."

"At first, my father thought I was being arrested." She closed her eyes just a moment at the memory. I winced.

"Parents, eh?" She tried not to smile. In hindsight, maybe she was trying to smile. "You're just back from West Taunton?" She looked surprised.

"Aye. How did you know?" I shrugged, smiling. She was suddenly angry again. "Have you been spying on me, Polo Shawcross? Because I won't stand for that." I rather hastily stopped trying to be suave and shook my head.

"Gods, no. I asked where you were, just today, and someone said you were off in West Taunton visiting family. Good holiday?" She shrugged. "Sorry about just now too."

"Which aspect exactly?" she said. Zol's balls, I thought, yes, which? In desperation, I told the truth.

"That Kelly let you in. Not fair to you or to anyone else to let people know who I'm tumbling." She burst out laughing. She had the most beautiful laugh.

"Galaia preserve me, Polo," she said, "everyone in the bloody kingdoms knows who you're tumbling. Some people think you write those books." I shook my head firmly.

"I don't. And I don't discuss my relationships." I didn't mention that the books didn't list even half my adventures. She gave me a knowing look.

"What I walked in on was a relationship?" I smiled.

"Well, I'd say we made it to friends. Good friends. Which was what you walked in on. Me being friendly. I hope we'll continue. Maybe I can do them a favour some time, maybe they can do me one. It's good to make connections with people."

"Like you did with me?" I bit my tongue because that question didn't sound as if it had a correct answer. I raised my eyebrows a little. She went almost straight on. "Even with peasants?" I frowned at that.

"My father is a peasant," I said, trying to keep my tone neutral. She looked embarrassed.

"Oh," she said, "of course, it's in the books." I laughed.

"Well, not all the books are exactly right but that part is true. Blood just means I have Dragon blood, we're all part-peasant." She shrugged again. I wasn't doing well at charming Maggie. "Anyway," I said, "I was hoping we could see each other again. Seeing we made it to friends." I smiled cheekily, hoping she was thawing a little, because I needed to stay at least friends with the mother of my child. Had she realised she was late yet? How did one bring up the subject?

"I don't think I want to be one of Polo Shawcross's friends," she said, putting a very sarcastic twist on the word 'friends', "if it's all the same to you." She laughed, hardly any bitterness to it. "We'll always have our broom-cupboard, eh Polo?" I laughed as if she wasn't being a little nasty.

"You won't see me just as a genuine friend? I don't mean for sex." I didn't say why I wanted to make friends. Perhaps I should have. It might have saved me from stitches and at least would have saved time. Maggie? She wasn't looking to be saved.

"You'd see me again without sex?" My turn to shrug.

"Of course," I said. "Why do people assume if one enjoys sex one must be both completely undiscerning over who one does it with and incapable of socialising without it? I don't tumble everyone I talk to." I tried to remember, had she seemed unwilling when we'd gone into the broom cupboard? I'd asked her if she was interested in sex then she dragged me into the backstairs and the cupboard. I was going to lure her to my rooms.

"Don't you mean every woman?" she said. I smiled. She shook her head. "Go on, Polo Shawcross," she said, "go play. If you want to see me again, really, then invite me somewhere, somewhere in public. Like a restaurant or a party with your fancy friends." I nodded.

"Alright. Are you back at work?"

"Not until Tuesday. I came back to see the wedding but I heard they're putting it back a week."

"Want to come to a party tomorrow night?" I said, and she laughed. "I'm serious, want to come to a party?" She thought for a moment.

"Alright," she said. I smiled.

"I'll send a proper invitation tomorrow." She waved a hand as if it was nothing.

"It's what friends do." There was a small twinkle in her eye. I laughed.

"I'd kiss you but I think you'd be offended." She inclined her head.

"I would. You smell of Rosie and Kelly. Good night, Polo."

"Good night, Maggie." We walked away from each other, but she was smiling. I thought maybe she did want to see me again after all.

Within three days, I'd realise why.

#### ****

At the corner I glanced back, she was gone. I relaxed a bit, waved to the various guards around the entrances to Azrael's rooms as I headed for my suite, and began to feel how drunk I was. Despite the meal, the effort and adrenalin of chasing down Maggie had brought the feeling on. It is a fault of alcohol, so easy to overdo it. I was weaving a little by the time I reached my own door.

Back in my suite, the women were both at least as drunk as I was and worse, had all their clothes back on. Kelly was in tears and Rosie was exasperated. It was a rotten way to end what had been a lovely afternoon and evening. I hugged them both.

"Told you," I said, "everything's alright. Come on, come back to bed. Let's all have a nap and let the wine settle."

"I'm so sorry, Polo," said Kelly, dabbing her eyes. "I didn't think. Just you said you were looking for her, and I was drunk, thought oh good, you were hoping to find Maggie, I'll let her in. I saw her face, when she saw you and Rosie, I'm an idiot. I'm so sorry-"

"Oh aye," said Rosie, shaking her head, "what kind of-"

"Come on," I said, "we're all a bit tipsy. It's all fine, Maggie was embarrassed, but wouldn't you be, walking in on something like that? You know what happened? I stood her up a month ago, accidentally, and sent an apology note. I'm only just back, so she came to see me. And got embarrassed. Anyway, I talked to her, she's fine. We're fine. And I do believe we were going to lie down and feel even finer." Kelly hiccupped, Rosie smiled. It wasn't the right kind of smile. It was the smile of a woman who's accepted the night is over, is resigned to a bad ending, but with no hard feelings. I knew what she was going to say.

"I think I'd better take Kelly home," she said. I looked at Kelly who nodded. I offered to walk them back down to the New Fort where their quarters were. They laughed and said no thanks, they didn't really want to be in the next book.

"Besides-" Kelly said, and hiccupped, "-ooh excuse me, but-" she hiccupped again, "-I need some air." We all kissed and hugged, Kelly hiccupping steadily, which made Rosie and I laugh.

#### ****

## Chapter 16 - A Being Not In-Body

Alone in the suite, I looked at the clock.

"Gods," I said aloud, "it's only nine." Across the citadel, there would be a party going. Probably several. I could head across and find a willing partner. Instead I made cocoa and wrote notes in my diary, then decided to sit on the terrace to smoke some pipes. It was icy, so I put on warm boots and a thick coat.

When Cree appeared I was just finishing a last pipe. I breathed out a lungful of smoke and it wreathed through him. As if the nature of Cree inhaled the smoke, it began spinning into lazy spirals until I recognised a double helix. I smiled and packed another last pipe before bed. I was conscious of being receptive to his communication, which before I'd done unconsciously.

"Hello Cree," I said aloud. His hair was still long. It was always long. Very dark. He was an extraordinarily good-looking man. I didn't notice men's looks as a rule but Cree was arresting. Good bones, as Grandmama would say, and good shoulders. He was wearing some kind of short jacket and long pants, with thick socks but no shoes. It seemed incongruous for an apparition, but then Cree had been strange from the beginning. He tucked his hair behind one ear in a gesture that somehow didn't seem feminine, yet in my culture long hair on a man wasn't considered very masculine. I wondered if he was gay. That would be typical, a gay ghost.

When I was a teenager and grew my hair, a lot of men felt the need to remind me long hair was for women. Women didn't really care, providing one was groomed. I found a number of them liked long hair a lot. As one said to me, it was something to hold onto. For some reason large numbers of men were actually threatened by any man acting outside the narrow hetero male stereotype, as if a man acting slightly effeminate, or not even effeminate but just different, might somehow break all men, and possibly their testicles, into tiny pieces.

On the other hand, someone who looked like Cree, one could imagine women actually stopping in their tracks and saying "ohh," or possibly, "mmm." He was a perfect romantic hero. When he'd first started appearing to me at nearly sixteen, I enjoyed the kind of rebel attention a long-haired man received, so much so that I didn't cut my hair until I was eighteen. I could grow my hair again if I wanted. Nobody was going to gainsay Polo Shawcross, I could be as weird as I liked. Wealth or skill could always excuse a level of eccentricity. As could beauty. Did Cree have more than the latter? Did I have more than coin and notoriety? What was he, anyway?

Sometimes Cree seemed to be in costume, other times in the clothes of another time. I even wondered if his entire appearance wasn't the result of what he thought might be acceptable to me. For all I knew he looked like an octopus made of mercury. Instead he appeared to me as a spirit guide should. Long hair, mystical speeches, and cryptic warnings. I'd long ago given up asking straight questions and expecting a direct answer. He did sometimes warn me of danger in my future, and everyone said the older I was, the better he and I would be able to communicate. I wasn't sure I wanted any such thing.

Next thing I'd have a pointy beard, a cloak, and would collar strangers at parties and make outlandish predictions. I rejected the notion of that kind of circus fortune-telling. Cree's existence was therefore embarrassing. He and I argued a lot over whether or not he was real. There was a small flaw in my side of the argument. I knew several others who could see him. Virginia had even communicated with him like I could. Fenric and Stefan could also see him, though not all the time.

Cree lit a pipe of his own. Though visible, he wasn't solid and I could see through him and his pipe. His wraith-smoke drifted up towards the sky. I decided probably not my sky, it would be his sky. "Nice to see you," I said as I lit my pipe again. "Jules not with you tonight?"

She said she appeared to you.

"Aye, she did. Is she real? She felt like it." For the first time, Cree looked surprised. And frowned. If he was in communication with Jules, I had the feeling he'd be dropping in on her right after he finished with me.

_Define real?_ he said, cryptic as usual. _Don't you want to know why I'm here?_

"I was just going to bed. Should I find a weapon?" I didn't have one on me, a foolish oversight in Sendren, with the king just next door and assassins seeming to come out of the woodwork. Unlike most people, I was allowed to carry a weapon in the citadel, or at least the old king had issued an order to that effect. The pipe was done, and I tapped it out then repacked it.

_You're in the middle of an interesting situation_ , said Cree.

_So many of them,_ I replied, _which one in particular?_

Learning about telepathy?

"I learned some control," I said aloud.

_Just in time._ I was lighting the pipe and looked up then warily around.

"Just in time? Seriously, do I need a weapon? Is there something I should know? Am I in some kind of danger again? Lately you only turn up when I'm about to be killed." Cree shook his head. He began to smile.

_Yet you are still alive._ I breathed out smoke.

"Bloody ghost. You said you were human. Who are you, exactly?"

_Sure you want to know?_ I put my pipe down, stripped off, hopping on the icy stone, swearing at the cold, and changed into dragon form. My suspicions were confirmed. I was outraged. Cree looked at me, and breathed out more transdimensional smoke.

"There!" I said. "I can see you now. You're not a ghost!" Cree laughed until he cried. Around him his life force pulsed in amused waves of bright clear colour. As if he was a liquid rainbow. I hmmph-ed and lashed my tail. Then I snapped my wings a few times. He giggled.

_There_ , he said, when he could speak, _did I not tell you? A being not-in-body. Now you understand._

"I do understand, you're alive."

_A misunderstanding_ , said my ghost-who-wasn't, _I did mention it._ I sighed. It was true, he'd always said he was alive, just a being not-in-body.

"So you're just visiting?" I said, and he nodded. "You said once you can feel what I feel. I thought you meant you couldn't feel it usually, that you didn't have a body." He shook his head.

I have one. But it's good to feel alive. You have a passion for life.

"I do?" He laughed again.

You're an idiot. But you try, you think, and you're not sleepwalking through your life. You're a thinking man.

"I'm not sure I want to be." I was thinking right then about what Kristen had said, that Azrael was a man of vision. I didn't want to be one of those. Not on any grand scale. It seemed others wanted me to be one. I would be happy with improving my duchy's animal- and poultry-breeding. "Do you think I'm a man of vision?" I said. Cree tried hard to answer me seriously and not laugh, but his lips looked as if he wanted to smile. He did cough a little, but his tone was kind.

Not yet. You're still figuring out who you are. Some people get the vision and then spend the rest of their lives coming to terms with their humanity. You're on the way to accepting your self, so there's an advantage. It's harder to manipulate the aware.

"Emotion is the enemy," I said, quoting Fenric. Cree smiled and gestured with his pipe.

Emotion is part of our human and our animal origins and part of us, but if emotion dictates thought and action, even law, then it becomes a liability. Emotion should be dissected and detached. Where is its root? It is too easy to be manipulated when one is unaware.

"I once read that most of any emotional state is triggered by the past. So if I'm angry with you, it's only about ten percent you doing it. Most of it's my past and emotional baggage." I sighed. I'd read that in a book on children of alcoholics. I wondered if Azrael still had his issues now he knew his real father wasn't a drunk. "I get so angry sometimes, Cree. I must have lots of baggage." He wasn't hiding his smile now.

_Are you about to ask me the meaning of life?_ I shook my head. Despite changing shape I was still slightly drunk, and slightly annoyed with Cree for being whatever he was. Alive.

"Would you tell me?" I said. "Besides, I'm pretty sure we're here to enjoy it."

_You're not a complete idiot,_ said Cree, which made me smile despite my mood. I wanted another smoke, for no reason other than it was pleasant to be so high, so changed back into human form in order to deal with pipes and matches. The change sobered me up, then I promptly fell asleep from the extra effort.

Some time later, Bernard woke me. I was sitting at the table on the balcony, in human shape, half in my coat, clothes around me on the stone paving.

Shivering but no longer haunted, I apologised for the mess and staggered to bed.

#### ****

## Chapter 17 - Intrigue

It didn't seem I was there long when Fenric woke me. Why was Fenric in my bedroom? Was there an emergency? Then I remembered he was on my staff now, so free to chivvy me at all hours.

"What?" I said. "What day is it?"

"Monday." That didn't help me. "Get up." I cracked open an eye. As I suspected, it was still dark.

"Up? Can't, sun's not up." My bedclothes disappeared. I groaned. "Gods, don't do that, it's cold. And you're making me feel like I'm back in the army. It's unpleasant. Am I supposed to be somewhere?" Fenric was unmoved.

"King wants to see you." I groaned and clutched at my pillow which he was also taking away.

"Before I'm awake? Why? It's a mistake. Himself knows I'm never awake before lunch."

"Come on, you lazy bastard," said Fenric, laughing, "don't make me drag you out." I sat up. He was quite capable of grabbing me by a foot and I'd be on the floor before I knew it.

"I'm awake!"

"Good lad. Come on, Himself doesn't have much time." I made it as far as my bathroom for a quick wipe over and comb of the hair then dressed in a hurry. Fenric handed me a pipe.

"Here," he said, "Bernard said you tied one on last night. Found you unconscious on the balcony."

"I wasn't unconscious." I called out to Bernard, "I wasn't unconscious! I was asleep!" To Fenric I said, "If you're going to gossip about me openly at least get the facts straight." He handed me a glass of water and some willow bark capsules. I swapped him for the pipe.

"You know what they say, lad," said Fenric, "it's not real gossip unless you heard it from a soldier or a servant. Bernard's version will sell better on the streets." I cursed Bernard, who smiled at me. Fenric was definitely chivvying me. "Azrael's in his suite," he said, "go on, you can smoke the rest of this on the way." He walked with me. I finally woke up enough to wonder why the king wanted to see me.

"Is something going on?" Fenric shrugged.

"No idea, I came to see if you were going riding, and the message arrived as I did. It's not even six yet." He took the pipe. "I'll wait in your suite."

#### ****

In Azrael's quarters were juice and coffee and I could smell food too, but nobody even gave me water. The suite was infested with courtiers and servants.

"Morning Polo," said Azrael, who looked very cheerful and horribly awake. I bowed and mumbled,

"Morning Your Majesty." I hoped I wasn't in trouble. Had I done anything or anyone I shouldn't have? I should pay attention to the gossip so I didn't accidentally do someone he was interested in, though on consideration, the odds were against the king's interests and mine coinciding.

"I meant to say I'm pleased Fenric's with your household, Your Grace," said Azrael. "Of course, he comes with my recommendation. His leaving the Crown's employment is no slight on his character. His contract was due for renewal and he wanted a change."

"Sire," I said, with a little bow, as there were Hangers On about, "thank you. As you can imagine, I'm very pleased to employ Fenric. And congratulations on winning the war." He beamed. Gods, I was so pleased to remember that part.

"It went just as we planned," he said, sounding excited, "then turned out even better. The weather showed the gods were with us." I was sleepy enough to speak my mind though I did it politely and with a smile.

"I thought it showed it was autumn in the mountains, sire." He shook his head at me, but was still smiling. If he started going on about Alexander again, I was going to ask if I could go back to bed. I remembered Stefan was around somewhere. "Did Stefan Westwych deliver a message to you?"

"Aye, helped us find a number of the Kavar units. He went back to find you but then we ran into you on the road. He's down in the New Fort. Sorry I couldn't see you yesterday, barely had time to scratch myself. The wedding's now next Saturday, by the way." He lowered his voice. "Even if Herself is being a drama queen, you know you're the person I want to be there. So you have to come." He stopped whispering. It only encouraged the Hangers On to sidle close enough to hear. "They're doing without the full moon for the evening, though it will be first quarter on the Sunday. Your note mentioned something about Aunt Kristen?" I nodded.

"Aye, I wanted to find out why she's arrested. She renounced her husband's actions and came here with useful intelligence and seeking your protection. Honestly, Azrael, she's no threat to you."

"My aunt is awaiting trial for conspiracy in the murder of my father, her brother the late Crown Prince Perry," Azrael said in a formal tone, "and for conspiracy in the attempted murder of the late king. And for trying to kill you and me." I frowned. I tried to keep my voice low. Especially I tried not to sound angry.

"Begging your pardon, sire," I said, adding the honorific to show him I wasn't trying to gainsay him, just remind him of the truth, "but we both know she wasn't involved in the other plots." I tried to keep a smile going. "Come on, Azrael, you know she didn't try to kill us, or we'd be dead. I sent her with important information, as I was too injured, which she volunteered to carry despite facing a warrant. She deserves thanks, not prison. She showed herself loyal to Sendren and you." He nodded and smiled. I tried to see the man behind the mask he was wearing.

"It was good information," said the king, "but there were warrants out for her arrest. I can't interfere with the courts. Besides," he added in a low voice, "I'm better off if she's hung. She's a blood heir Sendren doesn't need." I blinked, not sure Azrael the man was even in there any more. I wanted to thump him but for now would stick with diplomacy.

"She renounced her claim to the throne, sire, swore it to me, and will do so again for you. The old king had those warrants issued over five years ago despite the evidence, and in anger." Bravely trying to focus without coffee, I managed not to say that Theo had been drunk most of the time too. "Surely the new king can do something." He shrugged. I was clutching at anything that might sway him. "She's a mother," I added, "you can't hang a mother."

"That's pregnant women. But think of Kristen as a hostage," he said. "I haven't forced Joban to take me as king but I've taken their queen. Good strategy, eh Polo?" I was lost. Hadn't we won?

"Joban hasn't surrendered?" He nodded his head, sounding practical.

"Aye, they did, but we decided it would be best not to cause hard feelings among the Jobanese population. The current plan is to leave Uncle Colin on the throne. In return, he will bow to me at the Blood Council. I sent the Jobanese soldiers and Uncle Colin home after they surrendered, except the ones who were too ill to move." He laughed. "A number got colds. They're in military hospitals and we'll repatriate them in due course. Shame you missed the show, but you did look peaky." I tried to look as if I was sorry to have missed it too. By an effort of will I didn't touch the still-tender bump on my skull where I'd been coshed.

"Yes, Fenric says I passed out yesterday. I was exhausted." He laughed.

"You mean the day before yesterday." I shook my head.

"Gods," I said, smiling, "you're right, I do." It was at about this point I began telling myself to just shut up. As Azrael went on it was damn hard.

"It was unpleasant," he said, looking serious, with what I termed his 'brave leader' face on, "but I didn't shirk my duty, I watched. I confess, Polo, I'd rather not have seen even one hanging. Is battle as bad? The pointlessness of it all?" I shrugged, not knowing the answer. Besides, I was practising biting my tongue and not speaking for a while. I bit my cheek for variety. "I know you think it was wrong," said the king, "but public opinion was with me. The townsfolk thought it only fair to execute them. Theo told the Kavar king that any Kavar mercenaries found in the employ of our enemies would be considered the worst kind of criminals, and executed."

"Gods, Azrael," I said, forgetting the Hangers On, "did anyone tell the Kavar? I loved Theo like my own grandfather, but you know he made mistakes. Those Kavar were just soldiers under orders! Not very well-paid soldiers! The Patriarch was pocketing the coin Joban gave him. Like he was doing when Theo himself looked at hiring them six years ago, which was why he didn't hire them!" I didn't add the obvious, that Azrael knew this. He was privy to the same conversations with his grandfather.

Azrael waved the words away. I tried to breathe, remembering the Kavar on the hillside, the sergeant sick of the Jobanese captain, the men in the cart, ordinary lads if smelling worse. They were scared when I changed shape, all of them touching fingers to their bellies to ward off the evil that was me.

"So they were stupid men," Azrael said. He wasn't hearing me. And it was too late, they were all dead. I curled my lip, my temper up. Azrael's was too. I stared at him. Said the words I'd learned in the Army of the North,

"We do not execute prisoners-of-war, sire." It wasn't something one argued with. It was part of who we were. A servant approached, excused himself and asked for an urgent signature, which Azrael gave, talking to the man a few moments.

Why was I disagreeing with the king? Did I want to end up in the dungeon with Kristen? Worse, any moment now he'd be biting his lip and telling me he loved me. I was too angry to be tactful or kind and suddenly remembered how I'd longed to hit him for loving me. It was ruining our friendship, always had. My mood was too close to the way I felt when I stormed out of his life and tipped three years of my existence down the cesspit of the army. Trying to remember Fenric's lessons on mastering emotion, I breathed out. Then I remembered Fenric saying that hanging me would solve some problems for Azrael. Was that what was going on, was he trying to provoke me into some angry action so he could exile or hang me? Azrael turned back to me.

"Your Grace," he said, "may I remind you, the Kavar were not prisoners-of-war, they were mercenaries."

"So?" I said angrily. "You didn't have to kill them all."

"Galaia's tits, Polo," Azrael raged back at me, "what don't you understand? They were doing it for coin! Like whores!" The Royal Court was suddenly frozen around us, coffee or juice halfway to their lips or paused mid-conversation, all of them watching the king and Polo Shawcross argue. I couldn't shut up.

"By your logic, sire, the entire Dragon tribe needs exterminating, them being mercenaries for most of the last three thousand years! And while we're on the subject of doing it for coin, you've had enough pleasure from whores, I would have thought you'd have more compassion!" Too late, I remembered calling him a whore, all those years ago, right before I left Malion. Azrael's lips set in a hard line. Lovely, he remembered it too. Lost in my passionate idiocy, I was about to continue when he cut in,

"Was that all, Your Grace?" he said, dismissing me in what any idiot could see was a rather angry royal rebuke. I bit my tongue so hard I nearly winced openly. It brought me to my senses.

"My apologieth, thire," I said, lisping from my bitten tongue, tasting blood, then bowed and left, with the Hangers On all talking behind their hands and exchanging glances heavy with meaning. I cursed steadily to myself as I left, face expressionless, head high.

Why couldn't I have kept my mouth shut? What had Azrael been thinking, bringing up the damn subject before I was awake? He said he knew I didn't agree with him. Hold on, how did he know?

#### ****

The news that the Duke of Starshore had argued openly with the king, again, would be all over the citadel by the end of breakfast, on the outskirts of Peterhaven by morning tea-time, and around the country by nightfall. The gossips would probably say I was plotting against him.

After all, there was the incident of cuckolding him with the ex-queen and my recent affair with the new queen. I was obviously mocking his sexuality with the lisping at the end, or at least some bright spark would say I was. I spat blood into a handkerchief, thinking I really must find some other way of shutting myself up. So much for trying to live a quiet life. I pondered telling my staff that whenever they heard rumours about me they should simply look amused, and say,

"Well of course, he's the notorious Duke of Starshore for a reason." It was quite a good line, I might use it myself. I stalked along the thickly carpeted corridor, which was furnished with the kind of opulence that makes a man nauseous when he first experiences it, not because it's horrible, but because it's so magnificent it's like drinking champagne too fast. I remembered the day I arrived, how Bernard looked after me. Overwhelmed by the wealth around me, I had needed to lie down. Now it felt like home. How long would these palatial rooms be mine? Surely Azrael's favourite should live there?

"You alright?" said Fenric, who was waiting for me as promised. I shook my head.

"Fine," I said, shrugging, "let me just grab a coffee and change, and we'll go riding. Do I need my guards?"

"They're all still asleep. Let's leave them. If you and I can't protect each other, we should probably give our medals back." I couldn't help myself and laughed.

"Which reminds me," I said, "has Azrael done anything about the Military Guild selling officer commissions?"

"Aye, there's an enquiry going on in Malion," said Fenric. "Now that's one thing I agreed with. It's on Azrael's warrant, so they're reporting to him as King of Highcliff and their landlord. Before the end of the year, I think. Your paperwork is going to be underpinning any actual charges."

The Military Guild had offered to fast-track me, skipping the actual guild, and elevating my rank to captain – two up from the usual guild graduate \- without me doing the officers' degree or having to do anything more than pay for new cadet quarters. What's more, they were so corrupt, so sure of themselves, they put the offer in writing.

#### ****

## Chapter 18 – Secrets Shared

There were even more horses eating the Crown's feed and leaving manure in the stables than usual. The grooms told us the king had also booked out all the liveries in Peterhaven, with many citadel horses moved to livery outside the city. The coach houses were full and coaches were under canvas out in the grounds.

However, the Royal Wedding crush meant there was no problem finding horses to ride, lines of them stood saddled ready to go out, others on their way in strings of six or more. The grooms were so grateful to see people they knew could ride, they gave us two rather valuable riding horses that belonged to the King of Gyr, who was in Peterhaven with everyone else.

The hacks were running to fat, in danger of hoof inflammation, and we were given strict instructions to make sure they both got several miles at the trot, as foundering the King of Gyr's horses would be a black mark on the stables' record. I considered the King of Gyr a friend - Philip was Bailey's father - but before we were out the citadel gates I wasn't sure our taste in horses coincided.

We trotted down the hill and joined steady traffic already moving along the bioplas roadways. It was chilly and we were both wearing jackets, so to see the place so crowded was strange. This early in the morning, even at the height of the fashionable Season in midsummer, Peterhaven wasn't this busy. As we headed into mid-autumn, it should be quietening down.

With so many people around, we kept our talk inconsequential and headed for the nearest town gate at a smart trot. Once through, Fenric rode close to me. I was riding a glossy bay mare, gentle after the horses I usually rode and calm enough for a snaffle bit, a very mild contraption. I was almost afraid I'd break her. Fenric was on a grey gelding likewise very quiet, both horses starting to put on weight from too much time in a stable, and so far neither had so much as sidestepped despite all the oats they were getting. We were bemused, used to animals that bucked, shied, and took every opportunity to dismount a person. If you weren't paying attention, our horses would cheerfully wipe you off their backs on a handy tree or building. It didn't matter if they were stallion, mare or gelding, there was always a wild streak in some horses. Ponies probably more so. Not in our current mounts.

"I think these are Bremer Saddle Horses," I said, "noted for their very quiet nature. From Torc, originally."

"Aye," said Fenric, "you could be right. I've never ridden a beast so tame, not since I was a boy, anyway." I was trying to be gentle with my legs and hands, not that I needed much of either. The mare just went where I pointed her at the speed I told her to go. I shook my head at Fenric's words.

"I've never ridden anything so tame. My ponies were wily creatures. They'd drop a shoulder and have me on the ground if I didn't keep my wits about me, be gone in the direction of feed, either to the vegetable garden or the feed bins in the barn. I've known some very amiable horses but they'd at least dance when they knew they were going out." I patted the mare's neck. "I'm just going through the motions," I said, "it's like riding an armchair." He laughed.

"It does seem unnatural. I reckon this one is stuffed and somehow run by clockwork. So what in the name of Zol happened when you saw Azrael?" He grimaced when I told him.

"I know," I said, "should have kept my mouth shut, now I've given fuel to the rumours I'm against the king. Everyone said Azrael was acting crazy. I just thought he's always been nuts, but now I understand."

"I don't know when he stopped following a decent ethical code," said Fenric, sounding glum. I was sounding the same.

"He was so proud of you being his military tutor and Head of Security when we were boys. I still can't believe he let you quit."

"To be honest, Polo," said Fenric, "I was so glad he did. I couldn't have stood by while he was killing prisoners. That's not what I taught him." He sighed. "Coshing you gave me something to do instead of hitting the king." I was reminded that as much as Fenric had been my mentor, first he was Azrael's.

"Still, shame you had to quit," I said, but he shook his head.

"I'm pleased. I wanted to quit before we moved the household to Peterhaven." I whistled.

"Really?" He nodded. "But that was six years ago." Fenric laughed.

"Aye," he said, "I had an affair with his mother, regretted it and wanted to quit, then her bloody husband was killed. On my watch. Suddenly, if I quit it would look bad, possibly incriminating."

"How was it your fault?" He shrugged.

"It wasn't, but people talk. Then I killed the damn assassin." That was Aunt Kristen's lover, Robbie. "You know he was studying in the library at Sutherland Castle in Beech Wood?" I nodded. "Everyone thought he was just a scholar, and a librarian's job came up. So he made an appointment with the Late Perry."

"Made an appointment?"

"Aye, the late prince was stabbed to death with his own letter-opener by someone living in the castle who came for a job interview, not some stranger with a crossbow. But I hit the assassin when he was strangling King Theo, and maybe I hit him too hard because I was angry for not vetting the man well enough."

"Didn't you?" Fenric made a snorting noise.

"I didn't think I needed to. He arrived with a letter of introduction from Kristen, the Late Perry's own sister."

"Oh?" Fenric nodded.

"Turned out it was forged, he wrote the whole thing himself. And if I quit everyone would have thought I was running away from some kind of scandal. Me having an affair with Saraia made it look that way."

"Aye," I said, "I remember thinking that." My horse snorted. "Look," I said, "my mare's alive. Even she can't believe you stayed that long." We both laughed. "Surely there were times since when you could have given notice?" I said. He sighed.

"You may remember a few months later, Azrael was attacked by his bloody aunt, also on my watch." He was being very sarcastic, of course I remembered. She nearly killed me too. "So once Azrael was on the mend," Fenric went on, "it was the New Year. I thought right, in a year when Himself finishes school, I'll escape. Then for some unknown bloody reason they let him go to Malion and the guild! I suspect he blackmailed someone. Everyone including the king begged me to look after him in Highcliff. So all the joy of a true security nightmare, but at least he had his friend Polo." I tried not to look guilty. "A year in, you left and we had to hold him together for months."

"Azrael was that upset when I left?" I said. "I didn't realise. He never said so. We wrote to each other." Fenric nodded, reins in one hand low on the gelding's withers, the other on his thigh, the gelding walking briskly on. The mare walked next to him, so amiable I kept watching for the tell she was going to snap, maybe bite a chunk out of the gelding's hide or even swing her head round to bite me. A horse this quiet must be plotting.

"Azrael was a mess," said Fenric. "And bloody Theo visited, asked me privately to look after the boy while he was in Malion. Two years later he finishes the guild, we hope he's over you, because you're due back, and before I can hand in notice, Theo's taken ill, about to abdicate. Azrael suddenly announces a trip up north, and Saraia begs me to please be in charge of security." He groaned. I made a sympathetic noise. "Every time I was about to broach the subject of quitting, Themselves announced some new event or disaster I was needed for. In less than six months we've had two weddings, so many coronations I've lost count, that trip to the front to drag you away from the war-"

"For which I'm grateful," I said. "So Theo's dead, Azrael's king, and you quit now?" He shrugged.

"I took the first chance I could, said I wasn't happy with the makeup of the new household."

"What does that mean?" I said. He grinned and ran a hand back through his close-cropped black hair. Just a touch of grey starting at his temples, but already, after quitting Azrael's employ he looked younger, less worried.

"It's Peterhaven code," he said, "means sorry sire, I don't like Lilith. A number of his personal staff are quitting over Lilith. He's told everyone he understands. I figured get out while I could." He looked thoughtful. "I just wanted out. Azrael behaving like he has just cemented it."

"I don't understand why Azrael's acting like he is," I said and sighed. "I can't reach him." The mare echoed my sigh with one of her own. I patted her neck.

"You've been avoiding Peterhaven," said Fenric, and before I could protest he added, "or unavoidably away. Meanwhile, dear Uncle Nate's been around, lobbying for torture sessions to be public events. Lilith's pissing in Azrael's ear about extending the death penalty for any kind of violent crime, and there are those who think we're too soft on people like Young Perry, letting the law deal with them. Stupid hotheads. Azrael thinks public executions are a marvellous idea. That was what hanging the Kavar was about, gauging public opinion." He did a fair imitation of Lilith's cultured drawl. "I told you hanging the prisoners would buck up the civilians, darling." I grimaced.

"That was simply barbaric. Especially because Azrael commented on the fact the locals thought he was being very fair. I thought we were too soft on Young Perry but that was my personal opinion because of his very personal attacks on me. Justice shouldn't be up to the victims." Fenric smiled, the gold glinting in his grey eyes.

"At least one of you listened to me. You're not thinking of insurrection, are you, Your Grace?" I shook my head, laughing.

"Trying not to think of much at all. You know me, Fenric, I have too much going on in my own head to be bothered with thrones." He laughed. I didn't think it was funny. I shooed the notion of me usurping the kingship away. "Isn't there anyone sane who wants to be king?" That provoked very cynical snorts from Fenric and the mare, who was showing a head for politics, but then she was the mount of a king. Fenric laughed again.

"I'm pretty sure actually wanting the job shows a man's unsuitability for it," he said, and I laughed too.

"Aye," I said, "come on, let's trot, give these two some work. I'm tired of thinking about anything other than the view between my horse's ears." Our pair livened up, ears pricked forward, framing the way ahead, flicking back every so often to listen. The mare even shied a little, though she didn't seem serious, just happy, and instantly obeyed the pressure of my legs to keep her on the track. It's a pleasure to get on a horse and feel it begin to enjoy the adventure you're both on. Horses usually feel everything is an adventure. It's one of the reasons I like them. Like dogs and cats, horses are often better companions than people. They don't talk, for one. Fenric could talk.

#### ****

For the whole of the ride, he kept the gelding close to me, laying out his plan for me to take over the kingdoms. I was shocked in some ways, because for as long as I knew him he was captain of Azrael's bodyguards and loyal to the Crown. I had assumed he thought Azrael was the best man for the job. Not any more.

"Don't you see, Polo?" said Fenric. "You're a better candidate than he is. People will follow you. He's divisive enough for being gay, now he's marrying Lilith." I made a gesture with one hand, shooing his words away. I didn't think he really wanted me to take over, more he was letting out some of the frustrations of the last ten years or so.

"Of course I can see," I said, "but I'm not the one who wants to unite the bloody kingdoms, that's what he wants! And they'll get used to him being gay." I pushed the mare into a faster gait but Fenric kept up with me.

"What do you want, Polo? From life?"

"Sleep?" I said, letting the mare slow a bit. Fenric snorted at me. "Let's see," I said, "how about a holiday from being kidnapped?" He shrugged.

"There's more to life than pleasure." My turn to snort. Most derisively.

"Pleasure? Getting kidnapped? Being in the bloody army? If I'm happy, and I'd bloody dispute that, it's hard-won. Despite my hedonistic existence I have fond memories of a good night's sleep! Don't treat me as if I'm naturally happy!" Fenric laughed and laughed, our horses slowed, and eventually even I had to smile. I was an idiot. With an easy life. Mostly.

"Anyway," Fenric said, "there are things you need to pay attention to-" I was sure there were, nodded and cut in,

"Like my duchy and its management-"

"No!" Surprised by his vehemence, I reined the mare to a stop and looked at him. The gelding stopped too. "You need to stay here and pay bloody attention. It's not just the executions." That was a sobering thought.

"It's not?" Fenric glared at me until I said, "Alright, we'll stay. There's a Blood Council I have to attend anyway. Is that still this week?" I patted the mare's neck.

"Aye," Fenric said, seeming calmer. I seemed to have averted an explosion, unexpected because the big man was usually easygoing. "I have to be there too," he added, "I'm the proxy vote for Idriss." Idriss was on the west coast, north of Torc, but that was pretty much all I knew about it. I reined the mare back to a walk and we rode on together.

"You are?" I said. He smiled.

"Aye," he said, "my uncle's boys are both dead, one by his brother's hand, the other by the hangman, and I'm now Crown Prince of Idriss. Everyone's relieved, my cousins were a pair of pricks." I laughed, so loudly the mare spooked a little. I patted her neck. I wasn't sure she actually understood affection, despite her beautiful training.

"Well congratulations then. Is it a secret?"

"I'm not publicising it." I smiled and bowed my head.

"Your Highness," I said, "here's to you and Idriss. Prince Fenric of Idriss. It works for me. You don't want to move there yet?" Fenric shook his head.

"The future of Idriss is being decided here, along with the future of the whole of Pangea. I don't want to be king, but I'll be duke." As we reached the edge of the forest, northwest of the city, the architectural confection of the Green Dragon Citadel loomed suddenly into view, seeming to hang in the sky above the hills of Peterhaven. We stopped our horses to look, them jibbing a little for the first time, smelling their stables. I smiled.

The sight of the citadel always made me smile. Before Dragon came, it was the Greened Citadel. Once a fortress on a sheared-off mountaintop, over the millennia it was expanded, renamed several times, and redecorated endlessly. Now it was three massive buildings, each a palace in its own right, set on a giant terraced slope surrounded by gardens, watercourses and ponds in extensive grounds. In places you couldn't see the gold-shot green marble of the facades, covered as it was by plantings designed to obscure. The buildings looked as if they were floating in the sky among the mountaintops that surrounded the city's smaller hills. The citadel's towers and spires seemed to be tethered by giant plants, an amazing sight. Gold veins in the marble winked and sparkled. My mare began gently edging along, and I shook myself.

"Come on," I said, "let's head back." The horses started for home. The pair bounced along, heads bobbing in time with each stride and animated as they'd been all day, both of them at their happiest now we were going back to breakfast. As we left the forest, their hooves made a flat sound on the bioplas road. "Fancy a wager?" I said, "Race you to the wall." It was our last chance to have some fun with speed, as we had to keep to a trot or less going through the town and the last mile had to be walked or one made work for the grooms by bringing home hot horses. Both animals showed a surprising turn of speed. The mare tried hard but Fenric's grey won and I lost a gold.

Once we dropped the horses at the stables I thought it was time for at least a smoke and coffee, but Fenric made me work out with only water. By the time we began the walk to breakfast, I was shattered, wanting food and desperate for coffee. Maybe a lie-down afterwards. He did let me have a smoke. Just a quick one.

"You're right about Azrael acting crazy," said Fenric, "come on, I'm starving, let's jog. I've just decided I'm responsible for your day-to-day health."

"Jog?" I said. "Why would I jog? Can't you carry me? Seeing you're being responsible. What if I turn an ankle?"

"You're such a girl, Shawcross." I laughed.

"It's clear to me now. You're the one who's insane, wanting to run about the place. Himself's just drunk on the idea of conquest."

"Like Alexander?" said Fenric. I shrugged.

"I don't know if he was into jogging. Oh, you mean Azrael?" I dodged Fenric's attempt to thump me for teasing him and began jogging to get away. "Well," I said over my shoulder, "Himself will be in good company. Alexander's still known, what, ten thousand years or more later?" Fenric had stopped trying to hit me and was jogging next to me up the slope.

"Nobody's really sure," he said, "and Alexander's not known as a great monarch." I wasn't going to let that pass but he corrected himself. "Well, if the stories are right, still arguably one of the finest generals in history. But he drank too much and became obsessed." I chuckled.

"He was only human." We both laughed at that, and then had to stop laughing to jog up a staircase between levels in the gardens.

"Funny isn't it," Fenric said, once we reached the top, "how much of the language excludes us. Don't you forget that. The last thing we want is one of us making the peasants hate Dragon and the Blood." It was true. Minorities were targets. "Speaking of the unpopular, Uncle Nate's suddenly in with the in-crowd." I shuddered and stopped jogging.

"I don't like Uncle Nate, Fenric." He curled his lip. Hardly breathing heavy. I tried not to pant.

"Nobody does, Polo, nobody does. But by Thet, he pulls the women. Women can be very dark. Not just women." He jerked his chin towards the upper part of the citadel. "Guess who commissioned the gallows?"

"Not Azrael?" He nodded, then we both resumed our pace.

"Aye, every piece. Nate just arranged the manufacture from Azrael's plans. The king wrote the assembly manual too. The lumber arrived already numbered, ready to go on some wagons with neat little numbered boxes with all the fixings. Once it's off the carts and sorted it's supposed to take a crew of army engineers about an hour to assemble." I was shocked.

"What? You mean Azrael designed it?"

"I said that he did."

"But," I said, sputtering, "but- but- why would he even think he needed something like that?" Fenric chuckled.

"Oh, let's see. For putting down insurrections, perhaps to reinforce the king's rule in the south and for getting rid of Sriamans who won't surrender? Or mercenaries? Or other kings?" I shook my head. "Maybe cousins who are too popular and at the same time seem to think they can argue with the king?" That brought me to a halt again.

"Zol's balls."

"Aye," said Fenric and clapped my shoulder. "I'm glad to be out of it all. Even if I'm going to be a duke."

"I can see why you were glad to get out now." He nodded.

"I know he's not his father's son, Polo. I always thought if he wasn't it was for the good of the country."

"Oh?" I gave him my best surprised look. He saw right through it.

"Don't play dumb, I know you know too." I sighed.

"You must have been a truly evil officer to deal with." He laughed.

"You and Azrael let it slip not long back, idiot. I was already pretty sure but wasn't sure who. Knew it wasn't his father. I knew his father, there's nothing of Azrael in him." He gave me a shrewd look. "It's Stefan Westwych, the doctor. The one who knows Saraia from when they were kids." I shrugged.

"I let it out?" I said, wondering how. He nodded. Judging by my latest efforts, I wasn't at all good with secrets.

"Aye," said Fenric, "you said something to Azrael about Stefan standing in as father of the groom. I saw his reaction, and it all fell into place." Oh well, I thought, it wasn't me that time, it was Azrael gave it away. Fenric shook his head. "Once I saw the resemblance," he said, "I couldn't believe I hadn't seen it before."

"Aye," I said, "that's pretty much how I felt when I found out."

"How long have you known?" There was no way to make it sound good.

"A few years," I said. "I think five."

"Five?" He whistled. "So the king's known all these years?" I shook my head.

"No, no," I said, "just me. I guessed when I saw Stefan and Azrael together and collared Stefan about it. He asked for a chance to tell Azrael himself, or Saraia would. But they didn't. I thought she'd told him and put my foot in it. So Azrael only just found out, from me. After he was crowned, after marrying Isabella." Fenric shook his head, laughing.

"By the way," he said, "I know she's not been around lately, but had you noticed anything strange about Nanny Black?" I didn't want Fenric to doubt his instincts so told him who Nanny was. Stefan's hypnotic directions to me didn't include what to do about Fenric possibly guessing Nanny wasn't quite standard issue. Besides, Stefan was going to kill Nanny off, how could it matter? I looked forward to the book entitled _Polo Shawcross: Human Sieve_.

It was becoming endlessly tiresome to keep up with who was admitting to what. I couldn't keep up with all the bloody intrigue. This was why I didn't like Court. I kept tripping over other people's secrets. "Nanny was really Stefan Westwych," said Fenric, his tone wondering, "and he was - is - Azrael's real father?" I shrugged. "All those years," he said, "under the nose of everyone. Galaia preserve me."

"I know," I said, shaking my head, "the family gets more complicated by the minute." Apparently not a complete idiot, I did belatedly mention I was speaking out of turn and to keep the information to himself. He was as stunned as I had been at first, then he suggested a fast run to breakfast. I was completely starving so gave in to the notion.

#### ****

## Chapter 19 – All About Maggie

Still early, the line for breakfast wasn't long. In a minute or so we were in and queuing for the buffet. I'd never seen the citadel so busy. In the winter it might be so quiet that the servants behind the buffet counters would be waiting while one decided exactly what kind of bread and how done one wanted one's toast.

Now there was a sign saying apologetically that the toast was not fresh but warmed, and anything except the ready-to-go food meant a wait of at least ten minutes. However, if you timed your arrival at the warming tray right, you might get it fresh.

At the tables we jostled elbows with kings, queens, dukes, duchesses, ladies and lords and so many Military Types we were kept busy saying hello. I was barely able to eat. Suddenly everyone wanted my opinion of the war in the North and I only managed two courses before I gave up.

There was a fair in the town, plenty of food there, but out of the grounds I needed guards. Fenric and I headed across the citadel to my quarters on the southern and western sides, trying to get out of the northern and eastern parts, most of which were simply stuffed with people.

Some folk were drunk, already or still. So far, a servant confided when I asked, there hadn't been more than a death a night but everyone was afraid to mention the low figures in case Haka suddenly paid attention and there was a massacre. The goddess was known for being short-sighted and too vain to wear glasses, which explained so much about death. Fenric, I, and the servant put our hands on our hearts to make sure Galaia averted such a calamity, then went our separate ways, the servant ducking down the back stairs, us still in the main thoroughfare, sidestepping tourists from all over the kingdoms.

"Fenric," I said, "while I remember, I need to take a girl out."

"In this craziness?" He gestured at the crowds of over-dressed people.

"Aye, I know," I said, "I was thinking to take her to a citadel party." We were in one of the busiest parts of the citadel, nearly at the giant pictures of me, between breakfast and the baths. A group was looking at the paintings. I paused. I really didn't want to be mobbed. A man looked at me, back at the painting, then back at me. It was still twenty yards before we reached the pictures.

With his bodyguarding experience, Fenric knew an incipient crush when he saw one. We both slowed, looking for some alternative route. I was pretty sure of the way via the back stairs to the Queen's Mews, and pointed to one of the plain white servant doors. "Hey," I said, "let's go incognito for a bit."

#### ****

It was quieter on the backstairs, no aristocrats shrieking loudly over the gossip at every corner, nobody trying to talk to me, at least not impolitely, and people moved smartly out of the way of anyone in a hurry. Gossip was of course being exchanged, but in low voices and without stopping others getting by. It was a rational universe.

Out in the main corridors the Blood refused any such system. Most servants had bundled their charges off for breakfast and were eating their own in the Servant Halls, extended out into the gardens for the week via several marquees.

"So this lass," said Fenric, "anyone I know?"

"I don't think so," I said, heading confidently along, "she's a commoner. She works here. I was wondering, do you think it would be alright to take a peasant lass to a citadel party? I know I have lots of invites." My own version of protocol didn't differentiate between commoner or Blood so I wasn't always sure of the etiquette. I'd met commoners at various parties, but couldn't remember citadel servants attending, or at least not any saying they were servants. Fenric nodded.

"Aye, why not? Bernard was saying you have about forty invitations for tonight alone. Anyone who gives her a hard time, move on. You're the desirable one, lad, they all want you at their little soiree. By the way you need a secretary. That's something I've noticed in my first day of employment." I nodded. "Bernard said he was your personal assistant, but was doing the work of a secretary and a day servant. He did mention you paid him for the privilege." I smiled.

"He costs a fortune but I get his sarcasm free." We reached a place where several stairs and passageways met. I was still sure about which direction we were heading, and gestured down one. We talked as we walked. "I'll get Bernard to find people for the other jobs I think. Unless you know someone?" Fenric smiled.

"I do know a man for manservant duties," he said, "from Starshore. A veteran too, makes it look good for His Grace. Like you, he was studying at the Harvesters, got drunk and signed up for the army." I laughed.

"Aye, send him along. Do you want the job of running Duchy Propaganda?" He shook his head, smiling.

"I think you'll find Archie has that well in hand. And you're paying him enough. People will soon be talking about a Starshore Wage being higher than average, same way they talk about a Peterhaven Wage."

"Well," I said, "I have coin enough to spare." Fenric laughed.

"So who's this lass you want to take out?" Without answering I tried to brush the question off with a casual gesture. Fenric gasped very melodramatically. "I don't believe it. You've found someone special?"

"Um, special?" I was stuck. "Sort of?"

"Ah," he said, nodding wisely, sure he knew me, "she won't tumble you so you're trying to impress her." I laughed.

"No," I said, "stop guessing." Suddenly he stopped walking and swung to face me, one hand on my shoulder.

"Gods, this isn't that Maggie Hunter?" I blinked. "Polo, really, you need to stay away from that lass." I made a shooing motion, as if the idea of getting close to her hadn't crossed my mind.

"Maggie?" I said in a casual tone. "I barely know her." I started walking again. "Come on."

"I know you had a tumble with her," he said, "back a month or so, but-"

"Hang on," I said, pausing and swinging back to look at him, "how do you know?" He shrugged.

"Azrael's spies bring reports, the head of his security has to read them." I was pretty sure Maggie hadn't told anyone. I had noted it in my Big Book of Tumbles, as Bernard had christened the ledger of names and details of who I had sex with. Nobody knew about Maggie. Except me and whoever read the book. Bernard only opened it if I asked him to write something in it for me. I was furious.

"Someone's been reading my private journals."

"Quite possibly," said Fenric, "always thought you were an idiot to write your life down without encoding it. But you also wrote to her via one of Azrael's messengers."

"One expects others to respect boundaries," I said, feeling quite violated. Beginning to think I was also lost, I pointed blindly down a passageway and we headed along without talking for at least twenty paces.

"So it's not that Maggie?" said Fenric, as we came to a cross-corridor. I pointed again in what I hoped was the right way. Fenric either was not paying attention or had forgotten I was the world's worst scout.

"Maggie Hunter?" I said casually. "That's her. It's not special, but she's a nice lass." He frowned. So did I. "What's wrong with Maggie?"

"Is this some sex game to spice up your life, or don't you know?" I shook my head.

"Know what?"

"About Maggie Hunter?"

"What? Damn it, Fenric, I don't know what you're getting at." I was going to scream if he didn't tell me. He shook his head. At me. That never boded well.

"You don't read the lists of undesirables the spy service circulates? I know Archie gets them from Peterhaven every week." I shrugged. I expected people to tell me what I should pay attention to, though I did skim reports in case something proved interesting. "Maggie's a known sympathiser with Young Perry and his cause," said Fenric, "she's also for the peasant revolution." I asked the obvious question,

"How does she have security clearance for the Queen's Mews?"

"I don't know," Fenric said, looking surprised. I thought, oh dear, time to give up Court intrigue. I was like a one-man knowledge dissemination campaign. I also resolved to steer clear of international diplomacy, despite enjoying the sex that entailed. I would probably cause some kind of world war.

What had I said to Maggie? Was there anything that might have hurt Azrael? Or might hurt me?

"We just had a quickie," I said, "in a broom cupboard on the servant stairs in the Queen's Mews. She didn't even make it to my rooms," I added, quite sarcastically, "wasn't that in Azrael's report?"

"The spies missed that out," said Fenric, looking thoughtful, "why didn't you do her again?" I shook my head.

"I was going to, but that was the day I had to leave Peterhaven because I was broadcasting my thoughts. I didn't make it to our evening appointment." He nodded.

"That day you saved the king's life when he was nearly killed on my watch. Again." I began to smile.

"Aye, it was right after that. What, you're thinking I should have let him die?" Fenric laughed.

"Perhaps?" I made a snorting sound. Fenric shook his head. "I'm thinking he's safer without me."

"You can't blame yourself for Azrael being attacked, mate," I said. "That's what happens to kings, people attack them. Especially, their families attack them." He deftly ignored my sympathy and went back to the subject.

"So, mate, why do you want to take Maggie Hunter out? If she's not special?" I sighed. If I told Fenric it was likely he'd tell the others, it being too good a piece of gossip not to share. It would go no further than my bodyguards, but they would laugh at me. If I didn't tell him, he was altogether likely to guess, and I began to wonder again why I'd hired him. Fenric didn't let me get away with anything, whereas Ross and the others were less strict. It wasn't that I didn't like Fenric, I did. He just knew me too well. Having him around left me nowhere to hide.

"I think she might be pregnant," I said. "My ghost told me. He's not a ghost by the way." We kept walking while he absorbed the bit about Maggie, the rest he knew.

"Does she know?" I winced. He'd cut to the heart of it.

"No," I said.

"No?" I spread my hands.

"At least I don't think so. It's only been just on four weeks. That's what dinner is for. She won't see me unless I see her in public." He shook his head. Not at me this time, but sombrely.

"She's on thin ice, Polo. If you want to keep her alive, political savvy says she should shut her mouth. Maybe distance herself from her family. She tries to bring you down, I'll cut her bloody throat myself." I sighed.

"Steady on, Fenric. Remember the mother of my child part? Besides, she's never said anything contentious." Then I remembered she had. Her prejudice against the Blood was plain even in the few words we'd spoken the previous evening. The previous time we met, I didn't remember talking much. If she hated me, why had she dragged me into that cupboard on the backstairs? "Alright," I said, "she may be a bit of a bigot." Fenric had to stop walking for a moment to laugh, while I continued at a dignified pace, but he pulled himself together and caught up with me.

"A bit of a bigot?" I waved a hand.

"She did seem anti-Blood the last time I spoke to her. Which was only the second time we met. And she was no more a revolutionary than Cida used to be, and we all just listened to her. Mostly. Like with Cida, I pointed out Father is a peasant." Fenric nodded.

"Cida's crap was tolerated," he said, "because her mother and father were trusted servants of the Princess Royal and Cida was Azrael's friend. Theo was more laid back about seditious talk than Azrael is. You remember Cida stood by while her boyfriend waited for you to be shot with a crossbow?" I winced. "The same Cida who must have known about Perry having you kidnapped, because apparently Young Perry threw a party to celebrate and she organised it?"

"He what?" I said. "Bastard!"

"Aye, you need to read more. I know that was in a report to the Duke of Starshore when you got back from being kidnapped. Anyway, best guess is this Maggie's going to try to convert you to the cause like Cida used to."

"Gods, I hope not," I said. "And Cida never tempted me." I caught his look. "Well, not politically. I had enough of that kind of crap from my father. He's not a rebel," I added hastily, feeling this was one of those conversations I was possibly going to regret. "Father's a cavalryman, an officer, a history buff and a peasant, so he's inordinately proud of the army, the cavalry, Sendren and our colonial ancestors. He's big about commoner achievements, including the way the early colonists rebelled against the colonial rulers of the Quadrants. He's a drunk so tends to glamorise it all. He's also very fond of Azrael and proud of me being a duke." I was lost, busy trying to save Father from Great Uncle Nate's peeling machines, and pointed down a corridor, pretending to know exactly where we were going.

Soon I was going to have to take one of the red doors out into the main halls. Maybe find a window, sight the sun. See if we were still in the citadel or had ended up down the hill in the forts. I had never explored the citadel's backstairs much, though Azrael and I had always wanted to go further and explore the secret ways. Even on the backstairs, it was easy to end up hopelessly lost.

"I know your father, and I know what he's like," said Fenric. "Did you know the first settlers were conquered?"

"Aye," I said, "I know. Father knows too. He's a romantic not a revolutionary."

"Good," said Fenric, "because that's what Azrael's intelligence shows." I was suddenly very glad about Fenric joining my staff. He seemed to have completely transferred his loyalty to me. I was grateful, but after recent experiences also a trifle wary. And I didn't want any of my family peeled by the Royal Torturer because of a flippant remark from me. Suddenly I realised who was most in danger.

"What about Mother?" I said. "Does Azrael think she's safe?"

"Less than your father," said Fenric. I laughed but he was serious. "Not considered a threat," he added, "but her associates are under watch. Your father's too." I sighed. "We, or at least the Crown, watches who targets your parents. They're a way to get to you. Especially Tess, she can be impetuous at times, and vindictive." Mother had bedded Fenric to get back at me, so he knew exactly how vindictive she could be. I had walked in on them, a most embarrassing moment.

"Sounds like Mother," I said, trying not to think about the experience. "Is Azrael still watching me too?" As I said it I knew it was a stupid question. I blamed it on my attempts to stop thinking about Mother and Fenric having sex. Fenric laughed.

"What do you think?" he said.

"I know, I know." On a complete whim, I took a right turn. "I should expect it," I said, "I'm considered a threat, aren't I? Gods. The one person in the kingdom who doesn't want the bloody throne."

"It's not from anything you've done," Fenric said. "You're popular. You also tend to speak out and speak your mind. They keep an eye on you." I shook my head.

"Azrael always loved that I argued with him," I said. Fenric thought that was hysterically funny.

"You're like a couple not quite divorced," he said. I gave him a filthy look and he tried to stop laughing. "But aye, you're moving away from his affections, both of you growing up. If you keep speaking your mind, he'll be feeling an element of petulance." Fenric wasn't smiling any more. "And fear. He knows who's the better man." I was never so flattered in my life. Fenric saying that, about me? I felt faint for a moment. And after pretending to know where I was going, instead of doing the sensible thing, finding a servant to give us directions.

"Galaia's tits," I said, feeling a sudden chill, "That message I sent via one of Azrael's Dragon messengers. To Maggie." I groaned. "She said the man delivered it to her father's house. So I told Azrael I was doing her."

"Mate," said Fenric, "you really are an idiot." I made a face.

"I didn't know who she was. Maggie I mean. Nobody told me." I sighed. "It wouldn't have mattered if I wore a bloody condom." Just when Fenric had started to think I wasn't a waste of space, I messed it up. What had Maggie said? Her father thought she was being arrested. More to the point, what was she doing inside the Queen's Mews? Fenric figured it out.

"The first time you met her," he said, interrupting my thoughts again, "you said you met her in a corridor?"

"Aye," I said.

"In the Queen's Mews?" I sighed and said aye again. "Near Azrael's quarters?"

"She came out of a side corridor," I said, "about a hundred feet from his front door."

"And the second time, she walked out past the king's rooms?" I nodded again but pretended not to get the connection. The bastard wouldn't let me evade him. "Why would you be doing that, Polo? Come on, the army allegedly employed you as a scout." I gave in.

"I would be reconnoitring in the area before some kind of strike. At the least, I would be there gathering intelligence of use to my side."

"Aye." Fenric nodded. "So your pregnant girlfriend is a rebel spy. Tell Maggie Hunter from me, if she's seen in the Queen's Mews again I don't care if she's carrying the king's baby, I'll strangle her myself." I winced. So she didn't have clearance.

"Penth's bloody foreskin." I frowned. "I really need to see the reports on her, don't I?" He laughed.

"Might be helpful."

"Don't be sarcastic," I said, "it's unbecoming." He grinned at me.

"I can summarise for now."

"Good," I said, about to admit I was lost as we reached another crossroads. "Let's just check our bearings."

#### ****

We popped out the nearest red door and found we were only thirty feet from my suite's servant entrance, and nearly opposite the servant station between my suite and Azrael's.

As breakfast hadn't satisfied and was followed by a long walk, we went into the servant station first to see what there was to eat. There were some fantastic titbits meant for the newly-married king and queen who weren't married yet. These needed eating, said a neat note, as they were to be made again at the end of the week, _By Order of the Keeper of the Royal Wedding_. Who were we to flout authority?

We stacked plates with food while waiting for the kettle to boil. There were no profiteroles but one couldn't have everything. Coffee made, we beat an orderly retreat to my quarters, where Bernard surprised us with profiteroles.

"Wonderful," I said, "thanks, Bernard." I motioned to him. "You have some custard on your lip." He quickly wiped his mouth with a handkerchief and didn't look guilty at all.

"I saved them from His Majesty, Your Grace. He's been complaining about all the eating and drinking he has to do. Better to remove the temptation. For my part, in order to help the king I'm going for more walks in my time off."

"If the king doesn't start eating more," said Fenric, "or get married less, I think we're all going to have to go for more walks."

"I barely have enough time to eat his leftovers, let alone work them off," I said. "Before I forget, Bernard, we need a secretary, you're doing too much."

"We have a new man starting tomorrow, Your Grace."

"Well good, do you need a raise? An assistant?" He looked thoughtful. "And hire someone else for the manservant work. Fenric wants to recommend a chap."

"Better to promote Bryce the night man, Your Grace, let the new man start as night man." I agreed. "The new man is Sendrenese?" said Bernard. Fenric and I nodded.

"Starshore veteran," said Fenric, "served with my brother." Bernard nodded.

"If the colonel says he's a good man for the job, I think we can risk hiring him." Fenric was the colonel, a rank he reached in the Army of the North. When he retired, he took the post of guarding Azrael and became captain of the bodyguards.

"Right," I said, "I'll leave it to you to organise it. Now Fenric, I've been away for three years and wasn't here the last year at least before I left. I also wasn't paying attention to politics. Maggie and her family, what's this about?" Bernard moved off and made some notes. I soon had the profiterole advantage, as Fenric had more talking to do.

"Maggie is James Hunter's precious only girl," Fenric began, "though there are three boys. Hunter Senior, a convert, is now an Orthodox Church priest. His final-year student treatise was published in the south as a scientific text. He's credited with single-handedly popularising the notion amongst true believers," he paused to curl his lip, "that Dragon should be exterminated and the Blood should be killed, or at best allowed to die out." I hoped James wasn't as much of a martinet as he sounded, because his beloved daughter was about to present him with a Blood grandchild.

Orthodoxy made no sense to me, as the Orthodox claimed to abide by the Book of Thet - in which Thet said both human and Dragon were His creations \- but their bigotry attracted every specieist and would-be peasant rebel in the kingdoms. I knew some Orthodox people slightly, and some rebels, thanks to one of Azrael's old childhood friends, Cida Innes, turning out to be both. Not all the Orthodox were rebels and not all rebels were Orthodox. The Orthodox Church itself was not orthodox but a heretical offshoot of our own Kingdom Church.

The latter had many gods but the Orthodox sect held that we should be monotheistic not pantheistic. There was only one god and He was Thet. The other gods were frippery, heretical frippery at that, which was how Cida Innes once explained it to me. I never did understand how we ordinary folk ended up the heretics despite genuinely following the Book of Thet.

If one considered the Book of Thet as the foundation of one's religion as the Orthodox did, then their twisting of Thet's words and omission of whole Chapters were the heretical stances. The Book stated that Thet created humans then Dragon, and that all of us, peasants, Dragon and Blood, were bound together to look after each other and the planet. Not only were they twisting the Book, but their views were dependent on the words of some priest.

One thing I knew was, throughout history, the people who purported to talk for the gods were usually bent on feathering their own nests and controlling others. The Orthodox preached that the war in Sriama was wrong, that every commoner should be fighting Dragon and their descendants the Blood, and that both were parasites.

Goes to show the power in a name. Doesn't matter what your church or belief system is, just call yourself something that implies rationality and tradition, or whatever you fancy, even if it's a complete lie. Whatever people are silly enough to fall for. The Orthodox faith reminded me of the Kavar religion, with one true god in the middle forbidding any worship of others, while the believers worshipped all the preachers and the prophets, saints, martyrs, and seers.

The Orthodox Church's beliefs had progressed as different preachers gained ascendancy, moving from prim disapproval of Dragon's supposedly wild ways, which was where I'd last paid attention – or at least when Cida had last lectured me about letting Thet into my life, to which I'd replied that he was a god, he didn't need permission from me - to the current assertion, that Dragon was an abomination. In the far south, the Orthodox Church was reputed to be growing very quickly. The people were poorer there, less educated. They earned less money and in worse conditions.

As old King Theo always said, happy people don't care about revolutions or religions. Unhappy people would pin their hopes on new management, thinking it had to be better than the old. Fortunately, the people in the middle kingdoms were generally happy with their rulers. There weren't as many easy pickings for the latest cult leader, aside from the occasional well-off but religious peasants, like the Innes's, who might be sucked in. Not just the poor might be interested in revolution. Families like the Innes's were educated, well-off and able to be radical.

Bit like my father, only he'd gone the other way and become a firm follower of every god in our pantheon, while Mother, a product of the same society, admittedly an over-privileged one, was atheist and trying to live as a peasant. Somehow these groups had co-existed until now and even flourished in places like Sendren. You needed to be comfortable to tolerate the idiocies of others.

So-called Orthodoxy didn't attract believers in the formerly prosperous north where Sriamans were killing Kingdom men and women, Blood and peasant, every day. The peasants didn't blame the Blood for the Sriaman incursions, not when they had seen their friends and families killed by humans, and the bright-eyed ones were only among the rescuers. Nor did it seem an attractive mantra on the central and northern coasts, where the rich kingdoms were open to attack from pirates and the Kavar and again, it was a mix of human and Blood soldiers who protected them. It seemed most of my fellows knew who their real enemies were.

"Gods, how did I get tangled up with this?" I said, wiping off excess custard. "You remember, Fenric, I always thought Cida was a twit, tossing her hair, hating the Blood along with most humans, and being pure. Which reminds me, what happened to being pure? She's still with Young Perry?"

"Somehow," said Fenric, "years of tumbling Azrael's sort-of half-brother haven't interfered with Cida's belief that sex is an evil perpetrated by men, probably because Young Perry is reputedly lousy in bed."

"He is?"

"She'd be better off not bothering, apparently he's under-endowed and doesn't do oral." I shuddered, not so affected I couldn't get more profiterole down me. I swallowed.

"Poor Cida," I said, wiping my mouth again, "maybe she gets off on just?" I made a rude gesture with the last bit of profiterole, but Fenric shook his head.

"I wish that girl would get her teen rebellion over with," he said, "I'm not a friend to Miz Innes, but hasn't Cida hurt her enough?" Suddenly it penetrated.

"You actually get reports on what Young Perry's like in bed?" I said, surprised. Fenric nodded.

"The spy service does. The king's spies are thorough. Don't mean they'd tumble Perry, mean they'd chat to a lass who did him. Young Perry gets plenty, even being the ex-Crown Prince. The spy might be a woman in the baths who strikes up a conversation, asks the lass who bedded Perry if she rated him as someone worth doing. The report said the spy was warned off. You know how women talk, easy enough to find out. Women don't like men who last less than ten seconds then go to sleep. Size really doesn't matter, but if you don't try to satisfy? As the Book of Thet says, nothing's worse than a woman left wanting." He sighed. "That's another bit Cida's mob have cut out of the Book. Anything about women being equal, sexual, or even able to speak in temple."

"Mmm?" I said, through a mouthful of pastry, and he shook his head.

"You've eaten all the profiteroles, you bastard." I tried not to look smug and offered him some chocolate cheesecake. He was fond of cheesecake, and took the two slices we had as a bribe.

"So with the anti-Dragon movement," I said, "Lilith must be hugely popular as the new queen." Fenric shrugged and licked a spoon.

"There's been a lot of progress while you were at war. People aren't as scared of Dragon as they used to be, but the choice of Lilith is divisive. He could have picked someone without her history." I waved a rather delicious honey pastry filled with pistachios, then as the honey began to drip had to put it in my mouth quickly. When I could speak I said,

"Someone not known to be long-lived, you mean."

"Aye, people don't like immortals. Makes them conscious of how much they fear death." Bernard, who was sitting nearby on the window-seat, reading a book, nodded without looking up.

"Are you immortal?" I said. Fenric laughed.

"Not so far. Now pay attention."

#### ****

## Chapter 20 - By Royal Appointment

As he laid out how to survive at Court, in the new era of the First Azrael and his queen the First Lilith, I tried to focus. Bernard kept nodding, Ross turned up, began to eat, and then to be a backup for Fenric, lecturing while Fenric was eating. Tag-team nagging.

Among the rules, I was not to question the king.

I was not to argue with the king.

I was to stay alive at all times by ignoring everything the king did.

I was to bite my tongue first, the moment the king said anything, to preclude the possibility of me accidentally commenting that the king was acting like a lunatic.

"I nearly bit through my tongue this morning," I said, "I was actually lisping by the time I left. Made myself bleed."

"Doesn't matter," said Fenric, snapping a gingerbread dragon's head off, "small price to pay for your neck not being stretched." He looked at the gingerbread. "Or worse." A servant came in, handed some paper to Bernard, who went to the suite diary and then turned to us.

"Excuse me, Your Grace, you've received an invitation to lunch with the king. The note says it's a royal summons 'so be there'. Signed by Himself." Gods, what did Azrael want now?

"Before you get any more bookings," said Ross, "Stefan's coming here after lunch for a meeting." Bernard wrote that in the book too.

"Bernard," I said, "what invitation do I have for tonight that might give me a chance to impress a young woman but doesn't require full dress uniform?" He checked through my invitations.

"Here's one, Your Grace. From Crown Prince Bailey Westwych of Gyr, not sit-down, supposed to be a Recovery Party but of course the wedding hasn't happened yet. They decided to throw the party anyway." Bailey didn't stand on ceremony, his event might be perfect.

"Bailey?" I said. "Have I said I'm going to go?"

"You had, Your Grace. Though you explained to the Prince of Gyr, with everything the way it was, you might just drop in for a brief stay." I hadn't of course, Bernard had spoken for me.

"Right," I said, "then I'll take her to that. Show her the kind of idiots I'm friends with." I hesitated. "Was I going anywhere else tonight?"

"No, Your Grace, you tend to refuse most invitations."

"I do?" Bernard nodded, looking solemn.

"I can change that if you like, Your Grace, but you know you hate those kinds of events." It was true.

"Aye," I said, "I was curious, not complaining. You're right, I think I'm a homebody." I almost laughed at my own idiocy but saw Bernard nearly laugh out loud, so restricted myself to a smile. "I need to send a message to Maggie, about dinner." I sighed. "Any other news?" Bernard nodded. I raised my eyebrows.

"It's not good, Your Grace." He assumed a sombre expression. "The lunch with His Majesty is formal." All the army people laughed, which was everyone as even Bernard was a veteran.

"Full bloody dress uniform," I said, feeling quite disconsolate. "And a party."

"No idea why you don't like parties," said Ross.

"I quite enjoy them," I said, "sometimes. When I can be free to enjoy myself. I spent most of my teens having to attend functions with Azrael, so would rather sit around with people who are my actual friends instead of pretending to like a group of people who are probably just being nice to me because they think I can be of assistance to their careers." I paused for breath.

"Like I said," said Ross. "You don't like parties." He grinned. "Though full bloody dress uniform at lunchtime, well, you poor bastard." I smiled, resigned.

"At least it's only down the corridor," said Fenric, "you won't need guards. You might even be able to nip out onto the terrace for a smoke."

#### ****

At first, the lunch with Azrael was as I expected, excruciating, though the king was very nice to me. In turn I was very nice to him, despite me still needing a holiday and being barely awake, it being only just past morning. One had to smile, be coherent, and always, protect one's mind from Lilith.

The last wasn't really an effort. Closing my mind to others was now like locking a door, but the smiling and being coherent was exhausting.

Nevertheless, I put on a good front. Aside from full dress uniform, I had to be the dashing and notorious Polo Shawcross, Duke of Starshore, war hero, saviour of His Majesty, shape-changer – though I wasn't to change shape during lunch - and man about Peterhaven. I was paraded in front of various influential Dragon and Blood, making sure they all knew I was the king's friend, his ally and loyal supporter in this wonderful endeavour to unite the kingdoms. We'll see to the Sriaman menace once and for all. Blah blah blah.

Aye, I'd say, adding something pithy that showed I was not only completely the king's man, but also understood the concept of the Dragon Kingdom and the notion had my full support. Where I could I'd add some titbit of flattery, show them I knew who they were, something about their kingdom and its military needs, or we'd discuss what those might be. Azrael had been giving the same speech since we were sixteen, making the same persuasive points about unification of the old kingdoms. I still agreed with his reasoning and now could add my own firsthand experience of the war to Azrael's ideas, showing he wasn't as crazy as his notions might seem at first glance. So I smiled until my cheeks ached, because an end to the war in the north was something to aim for.

There were people I knew and many I didn't. I amused myself by classifying everyone according to Nanny Black's system for the Royal Court. People were Royal Family, Visitors, Royal Whatsits, Military Men, or Hangers On. Once I'd dreaded being one of the Hangers On but on reflection, nothing to do except enjoy myself and look for sex didn't seem such a bad life. There would be as much sleep or as many women as I wanted.

Most of the lunch guests were Visitors invited by the Crown, there for a reason like the Military Men. I was currently a Visitor, there by Crown invitation or order, though Azrael told me I was an adopted Royal Family member seeing I was quartered in the citadel. I also qualified as a Royal Whatsit because Azrael was supposedly employing me as an occasional diplomat and advisor on military matters. Then I remembered it was Stefan's system thanks to him having been Nanny Black. Was I supposed to tell Azrael about that? Not that I wanted to. Why couldn't Stefan just be one person like normal people?

Saraia, Azrael's mother, was even more of a problem, or she had been before her accident. Azrael didn't want me to have sex with her. At least, not again. Why did she want to have sex with me? In my defence, I was one of a small but select band of men the Princess Royal liked having sex with, but I was the only one who was Azrael's friend. Was it all about manipulation? Not my business, I decided, they were Azrael's crazy family and I wasn't going to be manipulated. At least not any more.

As always, I forgot about Nanny Black. Stefan had been very helpful with his hypnosis. I always found it easy to forget about Nanny. So much for being my own man.

Lilith was there, smiling and schmoozing like everyone else. She leaned in, kissed my cheek, and said she was delighted to see me. I breathed her in and she leaned back, smiling. It was interesting to see the Dragon queen without the veil of her mental influence. Life could have been so easy if I looked and didn't like what I saw, but I still liked her eyes. Still. And the lines of her throat. The way she moved. I smiled back. It was lovely, I said, to see her again.

Her Majesty was looking well and seemed completely over her snit with me. She was wearing pearls with emeralds and diamonds, and a beautiful indigo blue gown that wasn't tight, falling almost from her shoulders, yet as she moved it clung to every delicious inch of her for moments at a time. I wanted to slip it off her shoulders. Perhaps bend her over and – and I stopped that thought. Every man in the room tried to watch her from behind. Except Azrael.

Music was playing softly. Everyone was dressed as if this was the last ever formal event to be held, so it was time for the most stunning clothes, when in fact it was just a lunch. I was looking smart enough to melt knicker elastic, so Bernard told me as I set out. He had trimmed my hair and I'd showered, never could stand the itch of cut hair. I was in full dress uniform, khaki breeches, black boots, high-collared white shirt with service badge on the collar, and dress tunic with medals.

The black dress tunic had a white satin ribbon lattice inset over my ribs, Haka's white ribbons, to signify lives lost around me during my career. I thought I needed more white. So many dead. The tunic looked dashing but was like wearing a corset with medals pinned on it. A fancy ceremonial sword-scabbard by my side, empty of course, as nobody carried weapons inside the citadel. Except bodyguards and usually me.

I was seated next to Azrael, and I did ask him why it was important, this lunch, and was told because the proposed new commander of the Dragon Army was to be announced, though the appointment would be ratified later at the Blood Council. Like everyone I talked to, I thought someone like General Slade would be the commander. He was in his fifties, Sendrenese, a good soldier, liked by the men, and on active duty in the Army of the North, though currently on leave in Sendren visiting his wife. He wasn't at the lunch but someone would be sent to inform him.

If you asked me about my chances, and nobody did, I'd have said Azrael wouldn't pick me for many reasons, but especially because I was too close to him, had never done anything he told me to, and above all, I was too young and inexperienced to be taken seriously by anyone.

Several kings gave speeches and then Lilith gave one, a short speech about overcoming preconceptions and our fear of the unknown to embrace our brothers and sisters. I watched her lips move and the smiles she bestowed on us, careful to keep my thoughts to myself.

Azrael stood up to speak, telling us to stay seated. Like everyone, I applauded politely, curious to hear who the general would be, especially as I might have to serve under whoever it was. I suspected Azrael had some trick up his sleeve to get me back into his new army, possibly even a forcible army draft on all men or veterans in the kingdoms, so the new commander better be someone sane. A crazy king needed a sane general.

"There is a need for a commander of the new Dragon Kingdom armed forces," the king said, looking around the room. "We need a man who can bridge the gaps in understanding between Dragon, Blood, and peasant. A man in touch with the spirit of the age, and we believe we've found the man to do it. With a proven record in the Army of the North-" More blah about Captain Wonderful, and I was gone daydreaming, at least one thing I learned in the village school that was terrifically useful in life.

I must tell them that if ever asked to give a speech. I could tell the children of my own duchy whenever their teachers were silly enough to invite His Grace to meet the students, which they did regularly. Should I fly in? What if they asked technical questions about flying? I needed to swot up. I took a sip of champagne, pondering the mechanics of the aerobatic stall and what the food would be. I could smell something divine and meaty, and it seemed hours since morning tea. I wished Azrael would get to the point, announce his commander and let us eat. I'd had a champagne cocktail before lunch, and with the toasts to everyone's speeches, I was feeling a little pie-eyed.

Something impinged. People seemed to be looking at me. Or were they looking at Azrael? It was hard to tell, as when out in company and you'd argue over which of you that girl was looking at. Was there something on my face or tunic? Wait, no, they were looking at him. What was the king saying? Was he nearly finished? "-am more than happy to announce our proposed commander. Holder of both the Red and the Black Dragon medals for bravery in the old Army of the North!" A pause for a drum-roll from the musicians.

Drama queen, I thought, nearly giggled aloud, and then frowned a little. Didn't General Slade have four Red Dragons? I vaguely wondered who this person with a Red and a Black Dragon medal was, and noted he was like me, but of course, it couldn't be me- "The first commander of the new Dragon Army will be," said Azrael, as I took another sip of champagne, "His Grace, my dear friend, Polo Shawcross-" I choked, sending champagne up my nose. "-Duke of Starshore and now Acting General Shawcross!" The champagne seemed to be everywhere including in my eyes. It burned. The king narrowly missed being sprayed but some of the table wasn't so lucky.

There was really no way to recover from that, other than to say thank you to the king through a handful of napkin then rush off to clean up. That gave everyone a chance to laugh openly and the servants a chance to sop up the mess. It was one of my more embarrassing moments. Showing genuine shock whilst at Court was frowned upon, and my performance was not calculated to promote me as a contender for such a responsible position.

#### ****

## Chapter 21 – General Shawcross Expects

Fortunately my suite was close enough to the lunch for me to dive under the shower while Bernard found some clothes for a quick change, a formal suit to which he pinned my wiped-off medals. He even came up with some eyewash because my eyes were very red. I made time for a pipe, some cursing, a good nose-blow, and a double-checking of my legal position.

When Ross stopped laughing and could speak, he confirmed mine and Bernard's suspicions that I could not refuse the king. It was insanity, but apparently ' _By Royal Appointment_ ' wasn't something one could beg off without a good excuse, something on the scale of a major disability or illness.

Just wanting a good night's sleep for the next few years didn't count.

#### ****

Back in time for the soup, I apologised to the servants on my way in for making their job harder, then slid into my seat, smiling and apologising to everyone, particularly those spat or sneezed on, who were taking it in remarkably good spirits. Thanks to rapid action by the servants, including hot towels passed around, guests were cleaned, the tablecloth was replaced, place settings and fancy dressing restored, and no sticky residues on any of it.

"Gods," I said to Azrael, "sorry about that. As your mother told us once, at Court one may be pleasantly surprised but not shocked." He chuckled.

"Sorry," he said, "thought you'd be pleased."

"Oh," I said, smiling and nodding to others, replying in the same low tones, "I'm terrifically flattered but very surprised. Surely there are better people?" Then my mouth took over, or emotion did. "You know, sire? Ones not so determined not to die on a battlefield? Ones who hadn't told you several times that they would not be part of an army again for all the gold in the kingdoms?" He clapped me on the shoulder, still smiling. I was battle-weary, damn it, only three months out of the bloody army. And he knew it! Bastard! I wanted to knock the smile off his face. Wanting to beat Azrael to a pulp had happened the last time I joined an army. Was I drunk now too? I tried to breathe.

"I'll be honest with you," he said, "I was thinking Slade, though Dragon weren't happy, said he was too Blood, not enough Dragon or peasant, then Slade begged off, his wife's ill. He's just reached the end of his latest tour and wants to retire. I put forward six names, or at least my advisors did. I only put you on as number six after Slade dropped out, because I said we'd pick from six. As we investigated each one you kept coming out on top of everyone's lists."

"These advisors, sire," I said in my most polite tones, "are they all lunatics like you?" He laughed and clapped me on the shoulder again, looking delighted. He really was mad.

"You're the only Blood that Dragon will accept, Polo, and the only shape-changer the Blood will accept." He shrugged. "That's what it comes down to. And the peasants don't want anyone except you. Of course, having been one of them you'll have an advantage with the enlisted men and the non-com's. And the commissioned officers think you're one of theirs because you went to the Military Guild. Everyone thinks they own you, you see?" I nodded, I did see. Azrael thought he owned me too, that much was apparent. He needed an acceptable figurehead and, as I suspected all along, getting me out of the army had been for his convenience. To make up the numbers in a list. "And I know you would do this for me," Azrael said, "and that I can trust you."

"Aye sire," I said, trying to lie convincingly, "thank you. I'm honoured." I felt guilty, because I wanted to stab His Bloody Majesty in the eye.

"I would have picked you first, you know," he said, "but you were too young. However, you're loyal to me and you know what I want, how to use Dragon to their best." I nodded again, it was true. The thought occurred, unworthy though it was, that he left me in the army for three years when his influence was enough to get me released. In fairness, he was probably only able to get me released because I was so close to the end of my tour. Though I guessed if I'd been brave enough to bribe someone, I might have managed an honourable discharge. The problem had always been who to bribe? How did one know which of the various corrupt officers was the right one? Many had bought their way into the army – or at least through the Military Guild - but for some reason looked askance at someone trying to buy their way out, and it was a long time in the stockade if they turned you in.

I could feel the alcohol and emotion twisting my perceptions. I needed to look on the bright side. Despite everyone's best attempts to kill me, so far I was still alive, and probably safer on the Northern Front than in Sendren. As a general it would be hard to get into any personal danger except that involved in heavy drinking and overeating. Perhaps racing one's horses over jumps was more dangerous, but that was as much as the generals did. The colonels who ran each battalion would make sure of that. If a general ever went onto a battlefield or anywhere near the enemy, the officers immediately below him would be obligated to do the same, and that would never do. High-up officers, in the field? I imagined all the majors gasping in horror at that notion.

"You could have warned me, sire," I said, pasting on a smile. "Pending the Blood Council's decision, I presume?" He nodded. "What are we calling the army again?"

"It's the Dragon Army, thank you, Polo." I started to smile for real.

"You can call it whatever you like, sire, but it's my army or I'm not the commander. You do not control the military." I remembered that technically, he did. I softened my tone. "I don't mean I want to exclude you, you and I will consult. You know I saw too many stupid decisions made by the army because the people with the overview or on the front line weren't the ones making the decisions. If I'm doing this, I'm doing it my way." I was going to add, of course as my king you're in charge, but to my surprise he just smiled and nodded. I wasn't as stupid as I looked, and kept my mouth shut.

"Good," said Azrael, "we've talked enough for me to know you're going to do pretty much what I want anyway." I laughed, genuinely. He smiled, eyes twinkling. "Enlisted man's fantasy, eh Polo?"

"Officer's too, Azrael," I said, "an independent command. My father will be jealous." He spread his hands, his eyes suddenly dreamy.

"Your independent command will be the biggest land army this world has ever seen," he said.

I smiled, said thank you sire, and pretended I was overjoyed, thrilled, and possibly excited.

Inside a voice was screaming.

_No, please, no, gods, no! Galaia preserve me, Zol preserve me, no! Please no! All the dead boys, on my head?_ Was I cursed by Haka?

Hadn't I given the goddess more than her due?

#### ****

It was as though I was sleepwalking. I escaped the lunch somehow, not long after the requisite thirty minutes on the terrace for coffee and pipes and to accept congratulations. By then I was trailing my own little group of Hangers On, all eager to know what General Shawcross was going to do about their pet military cause or if we would buy their product, seeing the previous Army of the North tended to buy the cheapest in bulk.

I gibbered non-committal rubbish until I made it back to my suite and locked the door on them.

#### ****

## Chapter 22 – Worlds To Conquer

Everyone inside was lounging in the large sitting room, a massive room big enough for two giant fireplaces, one at each end. The men all knew I was a general. Bernard was proud but amused. Stefan was there and shook his head. Ross still thought it was hysterically funny.

"He's really made you an honorary bloody general?" said Fenric, who thought it was a set-up for some joke of Ross's. I nodded, pulling a face.

"I think so, it has to be ratified." Ross was stretched out on a couch, smiling.

"See," he said to Fenric, "I wasn't making it up and I didn't pay Bernard to say it." I could understand Fenric's scepticism.

"I know," I said to him, "barely bloody credible, right? But you're looking at a general. Acting, but the king's and his closest allies' choice as commander of the new Dragon Army." I laughed, and sounded slightly hysterical. "I bet I can get you a horse cheap." Stefan handed me a pipe.

"Doctor's orders," he said, "you need to breathe." He was right. I was starting to hyperventilate. I hadn't really breathed out since I ended up with champagne up my nose. My balls kept trying to retract as if they could just hide inside me until it was over. That notion nearly made me laugh aloud, that my testicles might survive me dying if they hid in my pelvis. It was crazy.

Wait, if I was crazy, I could end up in an asylum. If I were both mad-and-dangerous, surely they wouldn't send me to war? I remembered they'd done just that when I signed up the first time.

"You are the luckiest bastard in the bloody Quadrants," said Fenric, shaking his head. Ross got up and passed me another pipe.

"Aye," he said, "lucky bastard. Here, try this, it's something Fenric got from Idriss."

"Lucky?" I said. Or possibly shrieked. "It's stupid! I can't be a bloody general!" I still took the pipe.

"You've got the right hair at least," said Ross, giggling. "Alexander was a blonde!" I tried to hit him but he blocked me, still grinning, and sauntered off towards the bathroom. I sat down, or flounced into a chair, depending on whose account you believe, and lit the pipe. Ross stopped and turned round. "You'll need a black horse," he said.

"What? Why?" I said, thinking black wouldn't stand out for people to try to shoot me from a distance. Ross gave me a solemn look.

"Wasn't Alexander's horse a black one?" he said and laughed even more. I threw a cushion at him and turned back to the others.

"Nobody will pay any attention to an honorary general," I said, "ordinary ones are easy enough to ignore. An honorary one will be practically invisible."

"Wait," said Stefan, looking thoughtful, "isn't it _a_ honorary general, like it's _an_ historical moment? Or am I confused?" I shook my head.

"You're confused, though you're not alone. It's only an instead of a if you drop the H. As honorary is pronounced without the H, like heir, at least in our dialect of Anglic, it's an 'onorary. Where you say the H you use a, like a historical. Think about it, you don't say an horse, do you? 'An' is for words beginning in vowels, we're all taught that, then somehow they say it should be 'an historic'. In Old Anglic some dialects left the H off many words beginning with it. 'ospital, 'orse, 'erb, etcetera. So 'an' was correct in those cases. It's how the confusion started."

"Sometimes," said Fenric, "I forget you're quite intelligent." I threw a cushion at him too.

"Funnily enough," said Ross, pulling himself together, "I think Himself made a good choice. Rather have you in charge than half the idiots I served with. You try not to kill people." He lobbed the cushion back to me and wandered off, still giggling. Fenric had reached the laughing stage too. General Polo Shawcross was the funniest thing anyone had ever heard. Even Bernard was smiling gently, and forgetting to look solemn. They all made jokes about me for a few minutes, while I tried to smoke myself to death and Stefan took my pulse twice.

"Am I still alive?" I said the second time.

"Aye," he said, "recovering nicely." His lips began to twitch. "I think you'll live, General Shawcross." Fenric began tittering again. Bernard had a coughing fit and went into the next room, from where I could just hear him wheezing as he tried not to be heard laughing.

"Did you know I was being considered, Fenric?" I said, trying to distract the others.

"Aye," he said, "I was too, until I asked not to be and quit. I said I'd been on duty since before the king was born, which swung it for me."

"If I'd known I was on the list I would have asked too. Damn it, I did say to Azrael that I didn't want to go back to war!"

"Sorry I couldn't mention I knew you were on the list," said Fenric. "They all disagreed about everyone except you. To be honest I thought you were too young and they'd find someone else." I wasn't offended by Fenric's words, it was true. I was too young. Azrael might think he was Alexander but I was under no such delusion.

"Aye," said Ross, from behind me, "I heard rumours, but who thought they'd pick a youngster like you? I had coin on Slade for the job." I laughed.

"How did I not know?" I said. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"Didn't think you'd get picked," said Fenric, shrugging, and they all nodded. Ross took a seat.

"Oh aye," said Bernard, "I only wish I'd put more on you, Your Grace."

"You bet on me?" Bernard nodded. "What odds was I?"

"They wanted to attract bets," said Bernard, "you being a local hero. Your closing odds were shorter than expected, only fifty to one. Fortunately," he said, and beamed for a moment, "when they first published the odds you were a hundred to one. As I'd just had a raise, I put five golds on you." Bernard was a very wealthy man. We all whistled.

"Congratulations," I said, "you'll still work for me?" He laughed.

"Of course, Your Grace, enjoyment in my occupation is worth more to me than coin." I smiled. I was very fond of Bernard, who kept me organised. And I amused him along with paying him very well, so we both gained from our association.

"Do you think the Blood Council will ratify my appointment?" I said, and everyone shrugged.

#### ****

Nobody knew what a Blood Council might do. Despite a majority having already agreed to Azrael's appointment as Dragon King, they might not even ratify that.

The council was a new idea, or a rehashing of an old notion, to moderate the absolute power of the monarch more than the current system did. Instead of checks by the Crown that the king wasn't overdoing it, the Council could be asked to convene by any nine ducal rulers asking together, or in matters of treason. To stop a king wiping out his political enemies, the Blood – or Dragon - would be tried before a Blood Council. When the new kingdom was formed the ducal rulers would be the former kings and queens along with the current dukes and duchesses. And it was true, once invoked, the Council might even decide that Azrael wasn't the leader for them.

I hoped they didn't volunteer me to be his replacement because I was not going to take that job. That wasn't a Royal Decree. Besides, Azrael would sulk forever if I were king. He was already miffed with me for having an army career and being able to fly. It was much easier to let him wear the crown. I didn't want it and he did, no matter how much he bitched about not having a life of his own.

Personally, I thought letting most people have a say in their governance was a step down the slippery slope to something like democracy, where suddenly everyone had to stop and think about issues. As far as my reading of history told me, the problem was that most people never stopped and thought but were still allowed to vote, anyone was allowed to run for office, and in practice, often only the very rich could persuade enough of the deliberately ignorant to vote for them or their favoured candidate.

"Had you heard," said Stefan, changing the subject, "we're going to do transfusions and extract the draconium for Saraia tomorrow morning? Everyone here with cat's eyes is being asked to donate. We have a brief test we can do with a blood drop, see if it's worth taking a pint for the draconium. Good idea by the way, Polo."

"Thanks," I said, "that's great. It was something I read a one-line mention of once. I was hoping you might know about it. Do you think it will work?" He shrugged.

"If she lives through the change." Gods, I didn't want to be responsible for killing Saraia. Azrael still hadn't forgiven me for tumbling her. If I killed her too then the Duke of Starshore might be advised to move to Kavarlen by fast ship. I swallowed. Fenric and the others had stopped giggling.

"Do people die often?" I said. Stefan looked thoughtful.

"Well, they used to. The facilities now aren't as good. The transformation can be fatal, but it's so painful and the outcome unfortunately so difficult to manage that not many people try it. You've changed shape. Imagine changing species by an injection of something that forced the change. A heart attack was the most common cause of death. Even fit healthy individuals can just reach a point where the pain drives them beyond endurance, and heart, lungs, kidneys, liver, all just shut down." The day kept getting better.

"Ouch," I said. "How many people are not many?" He shook his head.

"Only a few hundred have tried so it's not statistically significant." Talking to Dragon was like talking to a pretzel.

"How many successful?" I said.

"About twenty percent," he said, waving a hand. I gasped. "In perspective," he went on, "that's less than fifty people in three thousand years." Those were bad odds. "When you consider we're really not sure what the process is," Stefan said, "it's a wonder anyone survives. Some people posit the notion that when Man created Dragon he created real magic. It's remarkable that it ever works or any of them live." He smiled. "We are indeed playing at being gods, at granting wishes." I bit my lip.

"Does Saraia know that?" said Fenric, voicing my thoughts. Stefan nodded.

"Aye," he said, "I told her everything, even about most people dying. She's prepared to take the risk, says even with every kind of painkiller we can find for her she's in enough pain that she'd rather die. You know her, you all do. She's stubborn as a mule once she makes her mind up. If draconium helps her heal herself then it's worth it. I have an inkling of the pain she's in and I'm not sure how she's hung on this far. It's not just her legs, her spine was badly compressed, there's damage there too.

"Her pain is chronic, meaning it never stops, and is severe now even with large doses of painkillers. It will get rapidly worse and of course the painkillers themselves will start to damage her. Poppy for instance, has many bad side-effects, it even destroys the teeth. There is no possible cure and with our current level of medical technology, little to be done with the knife. She can either overdose on poppy or take that last chance, that she will be able to self-heal after administration of draconium." I sighed.

"Well, we'll be down early to give blood," I said. "Meanwhile, I'm a general." They all muffled laughter. "I don't understand," I said, "why has he done this?" And everyone, even Bernard, who'd wandered through with fresh coffee, looked pointedly at the walls and the doors, as if to say that was a question they couldn't safely answer.

#### ****

I wondered when Sendren had become the kind of place where people who questioned the king weren't safe. Uncle Theo was tolerant, tending to pay very discreet attention to complainers in case either their dissatisfaction was understandable and needing addressing, or they might be a genuine danger to the king or others. He would then try to solve the underlying problems. If they were dangerous, a king had choices. Could the problem be solved without bloodshed or prison, perhaps with a new job, coin, exile or some combination? That was before they tried to assassinate or overthrow him.

Once someone actually attempted treason his options were more limited. When Theo's only son, the Late Perry was assassinated, the old king also lost his dispassionate ability to look on from a height and solve problems, instead outlawing his own daughter, Queen Kristen of Joban, in a grief-driven rage, straining relations with Joban to the point where King Colin had decided invading his wife's family's kingdom was justifiable.

Another of Theo's sayings was that happy people didn't really care who was in power, whereas unhappy ones always thought killing a king was worth a try. Dissatisfaction could be persuaded into all kinds of mayhem. I knew Theo governed that way because we'd talked many times - with Azrael there - about how he dealt with absolute power, the kind he gave me in my duchy. Theo was proud that people didn't fear the king, or his lieutenants like me, and felt free to criticise. He was also proud of how wealthy and well-educated his people were.

However, that was then. The king was dead, long live the king. Even I feared the king now, just because I was popular with the people. After the Kavar hangings I wasn't sure he was stable. What if I was being my usual flippant self and Azrael took offence? Or if I criticised him enough that he decided I really was his enemy? And what if he suddenly cracked down on dissidents, thanks to Cida Innes and her family, and had Maggie executed?

There was enough trouble from members of the Orthodox Church to make them a target of any king, especially one who would hang a hundred men at a time to make a point. I tried to imagine what it had been like, a hundred men dying then another hundred, and again, over and over. I didn't know if battle was worse. Perhaps wounded soldiers would scream more. And at least, when hanging men, you didn't have to listen to the screams of wounded horses.

Meanwhile, should I offer Maggie the coin to get away from Sendren? Or should I take a generous amount myself and just run? I tried to keep breathing. I wouldn't run.

Instead, I would take Maggie to the party.

#### ****

## Chapter 23 - Woman Trouble

A message arrived, Maggie saying she'd be ready for pickup at the New Fort, where most of the servants had rooms. In view of some new security level, and me being a general now, the bodyguards came too. Ross was taking charge of the guard shift, and the men all rode on the inside of the coach on the way there. I was plainly dressed, hoping not to make Maggie feel out of place. When my coach pulled up at the New Fort I decided I'd judged it right, or at least Bernard had, my outfit of dark brown jacket over a green shirt, dark brown trousers, and plain moccasins in buffed dark leather was his selection in the end. Maggie was dressed in red velvet with embossing on the bodice, a patterned silk wrap round her shoulders, looking prettier than ever. I told her so.

"Thank you, Polo, a friend loaned me the dress. I'm not much of a one for dressing up." She fingered a simple string of pearls. "The jewellery's hers too." I didn't say I picked the event because it was casual enough she'd not feel out of place.

"You'll be the mystery beauty in the red dress seen with the notorious Polo Shawcross," I said instead. She giggled.

"Those books, she's always a mysterious beauty."

"While I remember," I said, trying to sound as if the answer didn't matter, "what were you doing in the Queen's Mews the day we met?" She looked out the window. No longer giggling. "You don't work there," I said.

"Is that why you asked me out?" she said.

"No," I said, "just interested in how you seem to move around restricted areas of the citadel without the right security clearance. The King's Guard want to know. I said I'd ask." She turned to me.

"I borrowed a friend's pass," she said, "I don't want to get her in trouble. She didn't know I took it. I wanted to see how the king lived." She gave me a quizzical look. I didn't think Maggie was a danger to anyone, but if I'd been less self-involved it might have occurred to me that she was lying, perhaps even seriously worried I'd figured it out her involvement in some plot against the Crown. "Remind me," she said, "why do you want to see me again? I'm still not sure." Oblivious idiot to the core, I was wondering about admitting the real reason I was seeing her. It wasn't very flattering.

What could I say? Something like, "Well, Maggie, don't get the wrong idea. I'm not looking to see you as a girlfriend?" Perhaps, "To be honest, the only reason I'm making time for you is because after that quickie a month ago, you should be pregnant. I think you may be able to do me a favour, suspend your life and raise a child." Even if - before she could hit me - I added, "Don't worry, I'll pay you very well," it still sounded horrible, selfish, and insulting. The whole "Did you know you're pregnant?" conversation would have to wait until later in the evening when I was hopefully drunk enough to attempt it. Aloud I said,

"Do I need a reason to see a friend?" The coach was heading back up the hill.

"Do you really think we can be friends?" she said. I wasn't sure. However Cree had told me she was pregnant with my child. He was never wrong.

"I often have interesting friendships with people I meet in strange sexual circumstances. Don't you?" I was pretending I really was a diplomat.

"No," she said. "I'm not promiscuous." She sounded very haughty, as if she considered me the easy one in the room. I bit my tongue, refused to say the obvious, that someone who dragged a man into a broom cupboard within thirty seconds of meeting might indeed be at least lacking in self-control. Instead I muffled a guffaw of laughter and ploughed onwards, trying to charm and, from her reaction, failing miserably. I began to think she really didn't like me and even to wonder if she was armed. We'd be searched on the way into the party. I hoped they were thorough. Eventually I went back to the question of her being in the Queen's Mews, and said,

"Without a security clearance for that area, I was concerned that you're placing yourself at risk. Just trying to be a friend."

"Seeing you're trying to be a friend, Polo Shawcross," she said, mimicking my accent, "you can tell me about yourself."

"Let's see," I said, remembering why I hated dates and much preferred skipping ahead to the sex. "I'm twenty-one, just out of the Army of the North. I made it to corporal." I bit my tongue. Did she know I was a general now? The servants knew up in the citadel, so the news would have reached the New Fort.

"Tell me about Polo the man," she said, either not knowing about my day's excitement or ignoring my elevation. I laughed but she seemed serious. Her not saying anything about me being made head of the armed forces was a bit strange. Did she really not know?

"I like reading," I said. She looked surprised.

"Reading?" she said. "Really?" Was it so hard to believe? I remembered the idiot in the books, the Polo Shawcross she thought she knew. The one she was told to seduce? I hadn't noticed any contempt during our time in the broom closet, but since then she didn't seem to like me much.

"Aye," I said cautiously, "I like books, and I'm fond of old texts. I can read Old Anglic and Sriaman."

"Can you speak them?" she said. I nodded.

"I've never tried to with Old Anglic, more than a few words, but aye, I can speak Sriaman and Kavar. Sriaman I'm fluent in. What about you?" She shook her head. Her dark hair was loose, she tucked it behind one ear. As I noticed a pair of pearl studs on each ear lobe, something nagged at my consciousness.

"Not me," said Maggie, "I can read Anglic, that's it." I shrugged.

"It's not as impressive as it sounds," I said, "they're not far from our language, so learn a bit and Sriaman starts to connect with Anglic, just a bit skewed. Kavar's the same. Of course Old Anglic is our language, just a few thousand years ago."

"Is it?" she said. I frowned. Didn't people learn that kind of thing in school? I would have to use my influence to widen the curriculum. Education was important, the passing down of knowledge crucial to prevent our slide into primitive tribalism. We had the example of the Kavar, still trying to rise out of the pit of ignorance they fell into during the Great Silence, prey to every kind of superstitious notion.

"Aye," I said. "All the languages are descended from Old Anglic."

"I only learned Anglic," she said, "I was home-schooled." I'd heard of it, though usually people who were educated at home had tutors, educated teachers who worked for this or that lord. I had the feeling that wasn't the case with Maggie.

"You never went to school?" I said. "Can you read and write?" It was possibly rude but I was surprised. The peasants I grew up with in Lower Beech mocked me for reading books for fun, as did most of the troopers I served with, but all of them could read, write, and do at least basic arithmetic.

To go further in education, to a university or guild, was a chance to make real coin and those with the aptitude for a trade like that were blessed. You needed an education. Or a rich spouse. Maybe the latter was all Maggie wanted? I remembered being sixteen, wanting an easy life, thinking of perhaps working in some lord's library, then marrying a rich woman became a goal, until I came to Peterhaven, where I met many people who'd married for coin and were completely miserable.

"I can read and write," Maggie said, looking amused, "and I'm good with arithmetic, you have to be to get a job in the citadel, but I didn't go to a town school. My father taught me and most of the children in our temple." Their own temple? It was like something out of a pre-Dragon cautionary tale.

"Oh?" I said politely. "Your parents sound more interesting than mine. That's not something I say often." It occurred to me that I'd said the same to Cousin Miri during one of our encounters. It didn't seem like a good omen. Especially as my parents were very bloody interesting. And Cousin Miri was possibly mad-and-dangerous.

"My parents are strict religious types," she said, "Orthodox Church." I pretended to be vague.

"Orthodox? Are they the ones who don't believe in Galaia?" Galaia was daughter of Thet and a cornerstone of our pantheon. She was literally The World, having first birthed it then joined with it. Maggie nodded.

"That's them. You'd know Cida Innes, who was dating the old Crown Prince, she was Orthodox."

"Aye, I know her." It wasn't a good advertisement for Maggie. Cida was on the run with the ex-Crown Prince after his most recent attempt to kill Azrael. Maggie looked out the window again.

"Her mother was tight with mine. Anyway, I was so desperate to leave home, I ran away and joined a circus. We came through Peterhaven and the Innes's visited the circus and saw me. Miz Innes said the citadel was looking for servants." So she was estranged from her parents? I had no idea what, if anything, she said was true. I should have read the reports before I went out with her.

"A circus, really?" I said imagining her swinging high above the ground in a scanty costume. "What did you do there?" She paused before answering.

"I worked in a knife act."

"Must be hard to stay put," I said, now imagining Maggie with a target behind her, some man throwing knives at her body, missing by inches. Scanty costume still. I remembered standing on the wall of a fort in the north, letting the Sriamans take pot-shots at me. I was fully armoured at the time, so safe, and only needed to shoot back once I knew where the snipers were. Even so, waiting for impact was nerve-wracking.

Before we could say anything more, the coach was pulling up behind the citadel. One of the men opened the door. I could hear the party already. I helped Maggie out and she stood holding my hand, looking up at me. I looked down her cleavage, thinking velvet was going to feel wonderful when I peeled it off her.

"I'm betting you've read up on me, Polo," she said, reminding me to stop drooling on her breasts, "and you knew exactly who my parents are. My father can't come in the front gate. He's a security risk."

"Is he?" I said in an absent-minded tone. Breasts encased in red velvet kept catching my attention. Large parts of the day had been taken up in meetings so I hadn't read anything about Maggie. I already hated being a general, it was interfering with a sensible sex life. I should have read an in-depth current report. "You're right," I said, "someone should have told me." I smiled. "You do look lovely. Red suits you." Maggie smiled too, though not at my compliment.

"You might think you know me," she said, "but I don't think you know who I am."

"Ah," I said. "No, we barely know each other." She looked smug, as if me not knowing her was a sign of her moral victory over me. I wondered if she read a lot of romance novels, and that struck me as ridiculous.

If I hadn't been distracted by the swell of her breasts again I would have laughed at the notion I'd accidentally impregnated a romantic religious revolutionary. I might also have considered that any revolutionary required a degree of romanticism, or at least of imagination. Perhaps even delusion. Just like the overly religious. And Maggie appeared to be both.

"I meant, you don't know the real me," she said, as if the real her was something I wouldn't like.

"Does it matter?" I said. "You don't know me." She sniffed. "I'm sure I don't know you at all," I said, offering her my arm. "Shall we go to the party?"

#### ****

At the door we were searched. I gave up my knife. They did seem to search Maggie thoroughly, and she was smiling at me. Maybe it would be alright. Bailey came to meet us. The same age as me and already a big man, the heir to Gyr was putting on weight, though that wasn't surprising with all the coronations and weddings he'd been to lately. With his black hair and blue eyes, he was a typical Westwych. Like Azrael's, his eyes were Westwych blue, scattered with tiny stars.

I introduced Maggie, Bailey smiled, welcomed us both, and told Maggie to please call him Bailey. I gave him a hug. A servant appeared, lass I knew, and offered us all glasses of champagne from a tray. I noted that Bailey and I thanked Eva, the servant, but Maggie looked right through her and didn't take a drink. It was years since I'd seen Eva, and not for the first time I was very grateful for Azrael's new rule of badges for servants inside the citadel, made it easy to thank her by name.

Eva and I had sex once when we were somewhat younger, so it would have been very rude of me not to thank her. It felt like a lifetime and another world away when we'd spent a few hours together. She moved off and I reflected that she looked as good from behind as she had all those years ago.

"Congratulations by the way, Polo," said Bailey, bringing my attention back from less worldly matters, "though I gather it's not official yet." He tapped his nose. I smiled.

"I don't think it's really a secret." I looked at Maggie, who was looking blank. "Thanks," I said, "we'll see what the Blood Council think." Maggie smiled at us.

"I thought this new council was to rubber-stamp whatever the king tells them to do," she said in a sweet tone. I wasn't sure what to do. I'd never brought a rebel to a party before. Bailey laughed, which saved me figuring a response. That seemed to please her, and I managed a smile.

"I'm sure some will just do as the king asks," said Bailey, "they're only people after all. People tend to go with the majority."

"Two different species," she said, "if one is scientific."

"Two related species," I said, finding my voice again, " _Homo draconis_ is a direct descendant of _Homo sapiens_."

"Funny," said Maggie, "there doesn't seem to be much scientific data in the library on how they did that." I took a big mouthful of champagne, hoping she'd get it out of her system.

"It's true," I said, "there isn't much. But it was three thousand years ago, they had better technology than we do." I nearly said ask Lilith or Stefan, they were around then, but just stopped myself.

"They could warp the nature of humanity?" said Maggie. I winced.

"Not so much warping the nature," I said, "more tweaking the existing genetic structure. We're nothing that wasn't in humankind's existing ancestry."

"Humans were created by Thet."

"If we're quoting scripture, so was Dragon," I said, "though made in a laboratory is probably truer."

"On a different planet," said Maggie, "where they perverted the word of Thet before inflicting their version on us." Before I could say anything, Bailey got where she was heading.

"You think Dragon are aliens who rewrote the Book of Thet?" said Bailey, and laughed. I would have laughed, but was busy sinking my champagne ready for a quick exit. The about-to-be mother of my child needed to live long enough to enjoy the child growing up. I wasn't being particularly thoughtful of either Maggie or the child, more I thought a parent like me wasn't the best role model, not that I was sure a religious revolutionary was necessarily better. Two sane parents, I was sure, was advantageous, but I only had one sane grandparent and was fine. The child would just have to cope.

"So," I said, putting my empty glass down and changing the subject firmly, "are we looking forward to the next wedding?" Bailey smiled and made a comment about yet another new outfit, all the while watching Maggie, who was watching the crowd, or pretending to.

A different servant passed with more champagne and I collared a glass. I needed another badly, thanks to being at a party with a revolutionary-and-crazy woman. Right then Maggie tucked her hair behind one ear in a gesture that reminded me so much of Mother that I suddenly understood what it was about her that was bothering me, and nearly cried out in fear. Instead I took an offered titbit from a tray, a cheese pastry to help mop up the champagne.

"Had you heard, Polo," said Bailey, "there's a sweep on who I'll marry?"

"No," I said, "though I do remember they had one on whether I'd live past seventeen. King Theo interfered in the Servant Hall betting that time and banned that kind of sweep."

"Surely it's immoral," said Bailey, "to bet on life or death? Too easy to subvert." I nodded as Maggie turned her attention back to us.

"I'd buy a ticket in a sweep on Polo dying soon," she said. I winced. She shrugged, with what I could have sworn was a malicious glint in her eyes. She smiled sweetly. "Sorry if it's rude, but how many times in the last few months has someone nearly killed you?" It was true. I shrugged too.

"What are the odds on Polo getting married?" said Bailey to Maggie. She actually laughed and said, grinning,

"I don't think there's even a book on that. You, though, Bailey, you're considered very likely to."

"I am?" said Bailey. "Very likely?"

"Aye," she said, "now you're twenty-one they're expecting an announcement. Though nobody can say who to. Last I saw, several princesses were equal favourite."

"One of the servants gave me a list a few years ago," said Bailey. "Of the five favourites, I only knew two of them. Within the year one was married and the other betrothed. Don't know what happened to the other three, I never did meet them."

"A princess shortage?" I said, smiling. Had Maggie settled down? Could we get through the night without more revolutionary talk?

"Anyway, I don't have to marry a princess," said Bailey, "especially because soon I won't be a prince. I'll be a lord."

"Ha," I said, "I'll outrank you for a while." He laughed.

"You will, Your Grace." I stuck my tongue out at him.

"Had you thought," said Maggie, interrupting the possibility of a good time, "when the revolution comes all this will be emptiness?" We did try not to take her seriously.

"I look on it as emptiness now," I said, which was actually the truth. Bailey laughed.

"Aye, I do and all," he said. He gave Maggie a shrewd look. "I don't understand the posturing," he said, "the people concerned with bloodlines and how to grab their share of the wealth."

"A prince with a social conscience," said Maggie, sounding as if she had previously thought the notion unlikely. "Oh," she said, and took a sip of wine. "I forgot, did you say whether you thought Dragon were aliens?"

"That's a myth," I said, "honestly. I can lay out all the history if you like. We were made from humans." I was slightly drunk, thinking she wasn't going to keep this up. She'd get to know Bailey, realise I wasn't that bad if I had nice friends like him.

She could orgasm just from coitus, I remembered. In the army they called them the lazy man's ride. I wasn't sure a woman who didn't need attention and time was desirable. I always felt vaguely cheated when they went off without notice. As if I was just a talking dildo.

As a woman said to me, that was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard and how did I think women felt when men went off for no reason at all, which all men did at times? I had to admit, then and now, she had a point.

"Made?" said Maggie and her breasts heaved upwards a moment. I admired the generous swell of them, but was only allowed to enjoy the view for a moment. "Dragon have spread their lies thoroughly," she said. "I'd expect you two to be brainwashed." She wasn't conforming to my half-addled plans. While I was trying to think about sex, she began needling Bailey over how ridiculous it was, only letting the cat's-eyed rule the kingdoms. That broke the spell and stopped the natural progression of my thoughts from cleavage to crotch.

Not for the first time, I wondered how thorough the citadel's vetting was. If Maggie could get a job here and Cida's father Innes could work for the Princess Royal, there was something very wrong. I wouldn't let Maggie or Innes work for me. Belatedly, I decided to be sensible.

"I'm sorry," I said to Bailey, "I think it's time we left."

"I don't want to leave yet," said Maggie. "I was looking forward to hearing Bailey's views on whether Blood should be allowed to die out if they're removed from power."

"Allowed to die out?" said Bailey, sounding puzzled. I sighed.

"I'll explain later," I said, "sorry, Bailey. Come on, Maggie."

#### ****

## Chapter 24 – Crazy People Don't Turn Me On

Maggie gave an outraged squawk as I half-carried her out under one arm. On the way I called for Ross and the others, fetching them from an anteroom where they were playing cards. They looked at me a little quizzically but came hurrying after us.

"That was rude," I said to Maggie as I let her go outside the door.

"You carried me out!" she said. "Who's bloody rude?"

"Basic rule of being a guest," I said, feeling angry, "you don't criticise your host."

"You're afraid," she said. "Afraid of words!"

"No," I said, "I'm not afraid of words. Afraid of stupidity and ignorance, aye, I'll own to that. Afraid of people who start their own religions, especially. Feeding on the fear of the people. 'And every one of the prophets is mad-and-dangerous.' That's a quote from the Book of Thet, in case your father cut that out of the version he fed you."

"The Establishment will always decry the truth as the words of madmen," she said, with an air of triumphant finality. I looked blank. "That's what my father says Thet meant," she added.

"He must be a presumptuous twat," I said, "to think he knows the mind of a god. No wonder he kept you at home. Brainwashing children is so much easier than arguing with educated adults." I wasn't a diplomat tonight. Too much champagne and too few cheese pastries, not to mention the way Maggie kept reminding me of Mother. She even seemed to be enjoying herself. Mother enjoyed a good fight. I wasn't enjoying myself. It was as if someone had poured a bucket of ice down my trousers.

"I knew they'd give you a file on me," she said. I shook my head at her words and resisted the urge to swear like a trooper.

"I've never read a file on you," I said, "though aye, others have. I was warned your father is a criminal wanted in several kingdoms, a sly violent crook who got religion and decided fleecing people was easier if he whipped up their baser instincts, like fear." We were at the back of the citadel, the ways lit by lanterns. From several directions came the sound of people laughing. Music started up, something one wanted to dance to.

"Yet you still invited me out?" she said, sashaying along. She was excited by what she'd done at the party, her eyes very bright. What had I been thinking, taking her to a citadel party? I remembered what I'd been thinking.

"There's something personal we need to talk about," I said.

"I have nothing personal to discuss with you," she said, and gave a brittle-sounding laugh. "I'm just here to give you notice, the revolution-"

"If you could stop with the propaganda just for a-"

"Propaganda?" She tossed her hair again. "Surely Polo Shawcross the great war hero isn't afraid of a girl's words?"

"They're your father's words," I said. "And I'm no hero, that's some idiot mythmaker's notion. Those stupid books aren't the truth."

"You didn't deserve your medals?" she said in an arch tone. I snorted. I remembered the latest book was out, called _Wild Redemption, Polo Shawcross Takes the North_.

"My horses deserve the medals," I said, "they only faced the enemy because I asked them to. And they showed no fear. Not because they had none, but because I asked them to. That's all. I have no illusions about war, Maggie. I'd run from it every time. The men who died or lost parts of their bodies, they deserve the medals, I'm no hero." I took a breath. "I'm especially not a hero when the penalty for spying on the king is treason. Being hung for treason after a session or three with the Royal Torturer isn't something I would ever court. Nor do I understand why you'd throw your life away." She tossed her hair again, reminding me for a moment more of crazy Cida than Mother. Was Maggie mad-and-dangerous? We were standing facing each other, arguing, and I wasn't sure when we had stopped walking.

"I'm not throwing my life away-" she began. I cut in. I hadn't been sure Azrael needed to know my concerns about her, but now I was. I wasn't going to risk my neck so she could be her romantic notion of a proud young rebel. In the real world, rebels died young. She'd make a great martyred figure for her father to hang his exploitative claptrap on.

"You are throwing your life away," I said, "you don't grasp the issues or the truth."

"You're the one who doesn't understand," she said, "it's a revolution, we're fighting for freedom. Though of course, when I say we, I don't mean you. You're one of them." I shrugged.

"Only the cat's eyed can rule, but we are all equal by law. And the Crown will not stand for anything else. Me, I don't understand your kind of stupidity. Not at our age with so much still to live for. It's so easy to just move to the kingdom next door if you don't like this one."

"Perhaps I should just relax," she said, in a very sarcastic tone, "until Dragon take over all of Pangea?" She said it loudly. She was so far wrong I wasn't sure where to start. I laughed.

"What would we do with the Sriamans?"

"You won't be laughing soon, Polo Shawcross." That made me laugh more. "You can co-operate if you like. We might treat you like a pet, maybe let you serve us." I shook my head, still smiling.

"Wonderful," I said, "you want to replace what you call exploitation with your own exploitative system. Excuse me if, as a minority in the kingdom, I don't see the point of standing back and letting you. You realise, throughout history, when the bigots wanted to take over, they started by demonising a minority?"

"You half-breeds will be first to the noose when the revolution comes!" She said it loudly. "Would you like to be neutered come the revolution? Or killed?" There were several obvious retorts to what she'd said, including the one where I shouted for the guards. What proof did I have? She said there was going to be a revolution? I remembered I had to be friends with her and tried to calm down.

"It's not true, Maggie. I don't know where the notion got started that we're to take over the whole continent. I've been privy to the king's plans since we were boys together and it's never been his intention." I was trying not to snarl.

"You're his friend, Polo," she said, in such a patronising tone that if she'd been a man I probably would have just lost my temper and hit her. But I couldn't. So many stupid people I couldn't hit. Sometimes I missed the army. Then I remembered I was back in the army and breathed out. Maggie sniffed. "Your father's oppression means nothing, I suppose." My father's?

"Why do you think my father is oppressed?" I said. "He's pretty upwardly mobile for an oppressed man. He was an officer in the army, married a rich woman, and his son is a duke. Look, your facts are wrong, really. Maybe you should try reading a history book instead of your bible."

"It's not a bible," she said, "it's a revolutionary manifesto for the coming theocracy." I shook my head. I really was going to have to turn her in. She was more than just 'favourably inclined' to rebel notions.

"It's telling people how to think of their god," I said, "it's a bible. And we don't need any gods in our government. It's bad enough having people in it."

"You're a yes-man for the Crown," she said, voice dripping with scorn.

"You're misinformed. I'm known for criticising the king to his face if I think he's being wrong-headed. We had a loud argument only this morning, ask around the Servant Halls."

"You don't expect me to believe that?" she said. I frowned.

"I do," I said, "it being the truth. The king values me disagreeing with him." Maggie rolled her eyes. It was like talking to Mother when she didn't believe me, only I was usually lying to Mother, whereas I was telling Maggie the truth. "And Azrael's not trying to take over the whole landmass," I said, such an earnest idiot, determined to get the truth into her closed mind. "Of pretty much any one of the millions on this planet, you're talking to the one person who'd know. He's going to end the war against Sriama and unite the old kingdoms with the help of Dragon as allies." And me as general, I thought but didn't say.

"So he says," she said. I blinked, about to make a joke about perhaps she should think about moving to Kavarlen if she thought the whole of Pangea was about to be hostile territory for her.

"So he says?" I said, losing any pretence at politeness, "What are you, twelve?" I made an angry gesture. "That's your argument? Anything you can't disprove or don't agree with, you say is a lie? You're no more than a trained parrot for your father." She tossed her hair, bosom really heaving. She flicked a hand through her hair. Gods, she still fancied me. My feelings for her were approaching revulsion.

"Come on, Polo," said Maggie, her tone seductive, "you know he's not the real king. Why won't you join us? Bring your father's people to freedom?" She flicked her hair again. I didn't like this game at all. Crazy people didn't turn me on. Well, aside from Miri. And the last time I'd had the opportunity to seduce her, I didn't. It occurred to me that Miri wasn't as mad as I was beginning to suspect Maggie was.

I always thought one could reason with people. Sometimes it's impossible. Some people respond to reason, some don't. Maggie was a fanatic. Fanatics are believers, they have faith. Faith means no need for logic, it means the ability to ignore genuine science or truth. Maggie had faith in the king's perfidy. Whatever he said, or I said he'd said, he was lying. She believed Azrael was dishonest, and that was that.

There wasn't much one could say. I'd thought many things, but not that no matter what I said she would keep saying that Azrael lied. There was nothing I could say, and one had to assume the king's spies were within earshot. Other people certainly were. I started to walk away. She grabbed my arm. "You're not that naive," Maggie said, her tone scornful, "are you?" I shook her hand off, kept my voice low.

"Do you want to be a martyr, or are you trying to convert me to your seditious claptrap in public? Or do you think if I'm seen having this conversation with you it might get me in trouble with the king. Which is it?" I thought my words might wake her up, make her think about how she sounded, even perhaps give her the idea that in the current political climate she should possibly watch her mouth.

Instead, the last option, of intending to make me look like a traitor to the king, hit home. She actually blushed. With my good night vision I could see it quite easily. If I'd been in dragon-form, it would have glowed even brighter as her guilt suffused her cheeks. I was taken aback. "Galaia preserve me," I said softly. "How could you, how could anyone, do that? Why would you? Try to trap someone into treason? You should leave Sendren, now. I'm on my way to see the king." She didn't respond, just stood there smirking. I walked away.

#### ****

## Chapter 25 – Pardon Me, Sire

Ross fell into step next to me.

"If you're looking for the king," he said, "he's at the next party along. Or he was five minutes ago, someone was saying." Getting into the party was easy. I was Polo Shawcross. I cited official business with the king, was charming to the host, then found Azrael.

"General Shawcross," Azrael said, waving a glass of champagne, then he caught my expression. "What is it?" I moved closer, smiling for the Hangers On.

"Privately, sire," I said, "if you don't mind."

"Bugger," said the king, who seemed slightly drunk, "official crap, now?"

"Aye, sorry sire. You know me, I avoid work at night, but this is important." I smiled and added the words that would guarantee attention. "A matter of national security." We headed into a neighbouring room. It was unlit but we saw well in the dark. Azrael lit a pipe, took a hit.

"I have a problem, sire," I said, "with a woman." He smiled in the darkness, breathing out smoke.

"Is this about Lilith?" he said. "You know I know about that? Her Majesty said you had a brief affair before anyone imagined she and I might marry." I was momentarily distracted then remembered it wasn't that woman, not this time. He offered me the pipe.

"Thanks," I said, "no, it's not Lilith. Though I'm glad you know. It's that I've accidentally bedded a rebel." He snickered.

"Male or female?" I laughed.

"Female, sire, one who was smart enough to get into the Queen's Mews without the right security clearance and when I asked how she got in, said she stole someone's security pass."

"Gods," said Azrael, "I thought you meant someone was trying to kill you again. Well, this is a bit more serious." He laughed. "I mean it's something my personal security will have to take seriously, rather than it being a job for yours."

"Aye," I said, "I wanted to tell you right now. About ten minutes ago, she was trying to make a scene in public to make it look like I was contemplating heading a rebellion. You know how people talk."

"What's her name?"

"Maggie Hunter, she's a servant here."

"Oh, Maggie Hunter, aye, I've heard of her. Her father's a bit of a problem. I heard she's pregnant."

"Gods, does everyone know?" I said. He laughed.

"Yours? Really Polo? I didn't know it was to you. It's alright, we have her under observation. If it makes you feel better, write down what you can remember her saying, do a full report."

#### ****

I went back to my quarters, wrote a report and handed it in at the king's door, he could look at it tonight before he slept. Then I went back to Bailey's party. I walked in and the guards at the door raised their eyebrows.

"Hello again, Polo," said a man I'd known for years. "Are you a sir now? Or are you a duke first?" I suddenly remembered Saraia, born a princess, saying she wasn't one for titles. I must go visit her. She'd laugh, because I was finally over the imagined glamour of titles. Naturally I liked the power and the money - who wouldn't? - but being sirred or Your Graced just gave me indigestion. I remembered being called lordship every time I left my childhood home of Lower Beech and how I'd hated that. How had I forgotten?

"I think I must be a sir first, Rich," I said, "but you know me, I'm not much of a one for titles. Polo's still fine. Though if there are officers around we'd best be polite." He laughed.

"You left your knife."

"Aye, it's alright," I said, "I'm going in for a bit."

"That was a record short date earlier," said Rich, "you with that brunette. If you don't mind me saying."

"Aye," I said, "she turned out to be a bit strange. Religious." He pulled a face.

"Better off without her," said Rich. I concurred, but she was the mother of my child. Or possibly so, assuming she carried it to term. If she lived that long.

Inside the party I had a chat with Bailey, mostly about my poor taste in women, and his father Philip put in an appearance. Supper was a buffet but they put out tables and chairs so we didn't have to stand whilst juggling food and drink. Everyone kept congratulating me on my new job and I kept smiling. There was dancing but I pleaded an old wound playing up rather than the truth, that I was actually off women for the moment.

For the first time in my life I wondered if being gay would be easier. The women I thought of as more than sexual partners seemed to think of me as only a means to an end. I imagined bedding a man as a lover. It didn't appeal. I tried the thought of doing someone for political gain and then remembered seducing the ex-queen, Isabella of Highcliff. Isabella was Azrael's first wife, who I helped him find grounds to divorce. The grounds were adultery. With me. Not my proudest moment.

That had been for Azrael's political gain if not my own, so he could divorce her and marry Lilith. Being caught with my best friend's wife had hurt my reputation. Especially since the best friend hadn't told anyone her seduction was just me following his wishes. Though bedding Isabella was no privation, I hadn't thought much of myself afterwards.

It occurred to me that perhaps Maggie had deliberately tried to get pregnant from our encounter. Then I remembered what Azrael had said. He knew she was pregnant? Who did he think the father was?

"Weight of the world on your shoulders, Polo?" said Bailey, as he nudged me and offered a pipe. "Father's private stash."

"Thanks," I said, taking a hit, "I'm fine, just thinking about women."

"Don't do that," he said. I smiled.

"I'll try not to."

"She was a firecracker," he said, "thought she was going to try to take us all on."

"Aye, I'm sorry, didn't realise what she was like. She's not been like that to me. Not that bad, anyway." He laughed.

"So, General Shawcross, will the war be over by spring?" he said, and I laughed. Bailey grinned, good-natured as always. "You remember when we were at the guild," he said, "those lads always worried the war might be over before they graduated?" I nodded.

"Aye. I remember my father said as a boy he felt the same way. I didn't. War didn't interest me. If Sendren had one. I'd fight, but only if the war came to me."

"Aye, and remember what our tutors said to those lads who were worried the war would be over? There's always another one coming." Ross appeared on the other side of the room, jerked his head at me, and left.

I made my excuses and did too. I wasn't sure what was up, but I'd had enough of parties for the night.

#### ****

Outside, Ross and the men were waiting. Fenric had turned up too.

"Something's happened," Fenric said.

"Something?" I said.

"Maggie Hunter's disappeared. Crown's looking for her."

"I told her to run away from Sendren," I said, "that I was turning her in to the king."

"They issued a warrant for her," said Fenric, "but she disappeared inside the grounds."

"Word is," said Ross, "she knows she's pregnant."

"Aye," I said, "the king knew she was pregnant, but not to me." I closed my eyes a moment. "Quain's spear," I said, opening my eyes as something occurred to me, "she's probably thinking it's some kind of monster that should be aborted. Or she'll have hysterics because she believes it'll be born in an egg." They laughed.

"You don't know women," said Ross, "she's told her friends it's the boyfriend's." I blinked.

"What? What boyfriend?" Hadn't I sworn once to always check out a woman before I went out with her? I even knew a good detective agency. The oath dated from before I went into the army, but still. I already knew the rules and ignored them. I got Maggie pregnant before I was even sure of her bloody name. My own damn fault.

"She didn't tell you about the boyfriend?" Ross shook his head. At me again. I shrugged helplessly. "Fenric, didn't you tell him?" Fenric shrugged.

"He didn't read the file," he said.

"Haven't you read her file?" said Ross. "Polo, what planet are you on?" My turn to lose my composure.

"Penth's bloody foreskin! I was made a general at lunchtime, something by the way I've realised you all knew I was being considered for and didn't see fit to tell me!" For a moment, nobody would look me in the eye. "Then I spent the afternoon trying to convince Azrael's allies and our Sendrenese generals that I wasn't an idiot! So what bloody boyfriend?" The bodyguards variously looked guilty and tried not to laugh.

"So," said Ross, "Maggie. She likes the Blood for a tumble, for all her seditious talk. I suspect the talk's just for show, see if she can shock us. The boyfriend's Blood, a pretty blonde like you, doing Estate Management at the Harvesters in Peterhaven. Well-off lad. He's even taken her home to meet the parents." I wasn't happy about being her bit on the side.

"A serious relationship? How long have they been seeing each other?" So she'd gone into the broom cupboard with me just to allay my suspicions over her possibly spying? I wasn't at all suspicious when I found her in the Queen's Mews. Having just survived death, I was flying with both feet on the ground. She hadn't known that. A spy on enemy territory, Maggie was prepared to do anything, even have sex with a stranger, if it meant she wasn't outed.

"A year," said Ross. A year?

"Wait," I said, "did you say he was studying Estate Management?" Ross nodded. That was the course I did, at least for a couple of terms. I was going to get some more units done at the Harvesters. Once the war was over. I didn't even know when it was due to start. My course of study was in the books about my life so Maggie could have known. "A pretty blonde like me?" I said aloud. Ross smiled. I grimaced. "Pretty? Really?" They all laughed. Had Maggie been with her pretend Polo Shawcross then the real thing collared her in a corridor in the citadel? As I might have done, she may have thought opportunity might never knock again. "What colour are the boyfriend's eyes?" I said.

"Brown," said Ross, "like mine." His had a silver orbital ring of stars round the brown iris.

"Aye," said Fenric, "if you're seeking to prove it's yours, better hope your line throws your eyes." I grimaced, showing my teeth.

"I need to change my will," I said. Fenric raised his eyebrows.

"Make it the heir?"

"Gods no," I said, "make sure it isn't." They all laughed.

"I heard most of what she was saying outside the party," said Ross, "but inside the coach, was she that bad?" I tried to remember.

"I began worrying she was armed." They all winced.

"Never a good sign with a young lady," said Fenric. "Or any woman, come to think of it."

"Aye," I said, "I was brought up by a woman who threw things, so I'm a bit wary. Maggie was rather controversial inside the party too."

"We guessed," said Ross, "the way you came shooting out of there."

"I spoke to Azrael." He nodded. "And left a report for him at his suite."

"I think she's rebelling against her father's control by being here," said Ross, "but then every man she meets is him all over again. Adoration, rebellion, betrayal." Fenric nodded.

"Ah," I said, "did I mention we had sex in a cupboard on the backstairs? Within about two minutes of meeting?" They both looked at me.

"That's pretty slick," said Fenric, "even for you, Polo."

"For me?" I said. "You're both as depraved as I've ever been, you just don't have your own publicist."

"I have never," said Ross, hand on his heart, "done it with a cucumber." He and Fenric roared with laughter.

I couldn't help myself, and started to laugh too.

#### ****

## Chapter 26 – Trying To Adjust

Right after breakfast the next morning we headed to the ballroom closest to the infirmary to give blood. There was a bloodletting station at the gate too, for anyone on their way outside the citadel grounds who hadn't already donated. The blood was all rushed to rooms next to the infirmary, where the highly unstable draconium was being extracted for immediate use.

Everywhere in the citadel, hastily-drafted nurses and doctors were going door-to-door and offering to take blood then and there. I was going to visit Saraia, but Stefan said he was keeping her so heavily drugged she wouldn't recognise me, and to wait until she was conscious again.

By morning teatime there were jokes were going round about how Azrael had made sure we'd be nice to each other in the Blood Council by weakening everyone a little. The council was due to start after afternoon tea, and we'd been promised a short meeting, to end at sunset. I hoped it did, because the rest of my day, including lunch, was to be spent in more bastard meetings. People tried to schedule them in the evening but Bernard had refused.

"You were firm, Your Grace, a man must have some time to himself."

"Thank you, Bernard, I don't know what I'd do without you being me for me." We were alone, so he smiled.

I did attend a very interesting meeting with a delegation from Dragon. When I asked about working shuttles they said I'd have to ask Her Majesty. That wasn't a denial of working shuttles, so I would tell Azrael, and ask permission to speak to his wife-to-be about it. Then I remembered I really should tell him that Lilith's child-to-be was mine.

Fenric arrived just as I decided I needed a list, _Things I Must Discuss with the King_. I got up and found a notebook and pen.

"You know," I said to Fenric, "how we always thought that generals didn't want to be in the fighting?"

"Aye," Fenric said, "safe hiding up on a hill." I shook my head.

"We're not there out of choice. We're trapped in a meeting. I'm not completely sure, but I think very soon a cavalry charge will seem grand compared to this." Fenric whistled.

"That's as bad as if you were suddenly shouting to let you at the Sriamans." I groaned. He smiled. "I knew a general who did that. Some colonels dragged him off before too many of the enlisted men saw it."

"I had a commanding officer like that," I said, "but he was a lieutenant. However, I know how the general felt. Give me another pipe before I go insane. My face aches from bloody smiling. And these meetings aren't anything practical. It's just people who want to meet me or soldiers who want a job consulting for me, or for Azrael. What's more, they all want to hear how I'm going to take bloody Sriama. When we're not supposed to be taking Sriama, we're supposed to retake the north and broker a peace with bloody Sriama!"

"That's a good lad," said Fenric, and I made a rude gesture at him. "I've just realised, if I was in the army I'd have to sir you." He laughed, I laughed too, and even Bernard looked amused. Then it occurred to me, I could draft Fenric. Or Azrael could. No, I probably could. "Polo?" said Fenric, frowning. "You have an evil look in your eye."

"Mate," I said, beaming, "how would you like to join the army?" He shook his head. "Rejoin?"

"Oh no," he said, "no you don't! I'll run away, all the way to Kavarlen." I pulled a face.

"I need experts. I want you." I smiled. "It's a matter of kingdom security." His turn to groan. "I promise," I said, hand on my heart, "you won't be fighting, just swanning about in my entourage."

"Twelve bloody years," he said, "that's how long I was in the army, not counting the guild. No more." I smiled in a pitying fashion. "And I don't swan." I ignored him.

"Of course you do," I said, "I've been watching you for years. I think you should be raised past colonel though." He gave me a filthy look. "What?" I said. "Brigadiers never end up fighting. I'm going to enlist Ross too. I'm guessing Belinda won't let Archie come." It was Fenric's turn for an evil smile.

"They've split. He's lost his free ticket off the line."

"Really, Belinda and Archie split?" I said. Bernard nodded his confirmation from the nearest window-seat. He was reading. It looked like the latest volume of my biography.

"Aye," said Fenric, "few days now, so he's available." I was thinking more that Belinda might be, but didn't say so.

"It's recent?" I said and he nodded. "Do you know why?"

"It's been coming for a while. He wanted children, she didn't." I shook my head at the silliness of lovers who didn't discuss that kind of thing early in the relationship, before they get too attached. I wrote down _Azrael_ , then _Baby_. Then couldn't remember what the other thing was that I wanted to discuss with the king.

"Shuttles!" I said triumphantly and jotted the word down. "It took Archie and Belinda three years to figure out she didn't want children? She's a teacher, probably gets enough of them during the day."

"Aye," said Fenric, "she says she likes teaching them but doesn't want her own. And she told him at the start. Archie was smitten, thought he could persuade her. Belinda was crazy for him, so maybe she thought he'd come round or maybe she might change her mind. People aren't logical about love, Polo. They're certainly not logical about having children." I snorted.

"They're not logical about anything, but especially that. Still, sorry it didn't work out for them. Is Belinda staying in Sendren?"

"Aye, at least for the rest of the year, she's on contract to a school in Starshore." I smiled.

"Then I suppose Archie's drafted too. Bernard, please remind me later to send a letter to Belinda." Fenric gave me a look. "Just want to make it clear she's always welcome in Starshore," I said, which was partially true. Bernard nodded and made a note in the big diary.

"Can't we be on secondment from your personal staff," said Fenric, "not army?" I shrugged.

"You're not going to draft me, are you, Your Grace?" Bernard said suddenly, looking alarmed. He'd put down his book. It wasn't planned but, like Fenric, Bernard would be an asset and a loyal one.

"That's an excellent idea," I said, and his eyes went wide. "If I have to be in a bloody army, why can't you? Besides, you both know what armies are like. I can't take my own staff unless they're army. It causes all kinds of problems when civilians are on secondment, including resentment. However I'll make sure you're all exempted from the need to wear uniform except when I have to. That reminds me, Azrael has somehow brokered a deal with the Army of the North. Now he's taking over the army intact, as he's likely to get over three-quarters of the kingdoms joining."

"Aye, it's good news for Highcliff-Sendren," said Fenric.

"Is that backwards?" I said, looking at Bernard, who frowned.

"I'm confused," he said. We all sighed.

"If you're confused there's no hope," I said, "Sendren-Highcliff, whatever it's called. Sometimes I wish it was just Sendren again. I'm never going to get any sleep." Bernard laughed.

"You know what the Kavar say, Your Grace, no rest for the wicked." He bowed just a little. "Excuse me, won't you? I also have work to do." He withdrew and I turned to Fenric.

"I'm certainly wicked by Kavar standards. Ever been there, Fenric?" He shook his head.

"Not a place I want to visit. The overly-religious are annoying enough at dinner. A whole country full of the idiots would be too much."

"I wouldn't mind them being religious," I said, and grimaced, "but nearly dry-retching when a woman walks past is unnecessary."

"That bad?" he said, and I nodded.

"Aye, I'd rather smell a corpse. A corpse you can forgive, it's rotting. For a live human to smell like that is disgusting. But they think it's holier if you're dirty." He whistled.

"They can't smell themselves?" he said. I shrugged.

"They say not, but if their partner is in a tourist job and has to wash because tourists can't stand the smell, they're allowed to wash. The permit to wash costs, everything needs permits that cost. My taxi driver even paid for a permit to groom his horses. Their Madonna thought people who took off dirt were obsessed with themselves over their god. They've banned swimming now." Fenric was amazed, as any thinking person would be.

"Next they'll be telling people what to eat," he said. I warned him about how easy it was to end up enslaved.

"I think a lot of kingdom men must end up as slaves there." I swallowed. "A man I met said the adults made into slaves are the worst. Even castrated and lamed, put to work on farms, they don't stop trying to escape. They hang them eventually." Fenric curled his lip.

"I'd never stop trying," he said. I shivered, my closeness to that fate making me thank all the gods for my deliverance.

"Aye," I said, "me neither. Especially since Young Perry would have been the one who put me there." Fenric shook his head.

"I don't know how you didn't kill him," he said, "when you had the chance."

"I'm not sure either. From memory, I did some deep breathing and thought of you." He laughed and I shrugged. "It was only because I didn't want to be charged with murder. I was in dragon shape at the time. I remembered what you always say, that emotion is the enemy, and realised I might be killing him for emotive Dragon reasons that wouldn't stand up in a Sendrenese court." I sighed heavily. "Because he deserves to die isn't an excuse. Gods, speaking of murdering people, I now have a meeting with representatives from the Makers Guild. I'm going to make it short and sweet. Yes, the army will buy from guild suppliers from now on, however you'd better make it worth our bloody while."

"Good for you," said Fenric, "I always felt sorry for the enlisted men who couldn't afford decent kit. Poor bastards were less than three-quarters our speed and had half most officers' armour rating. And theirs weighed more. I bought several extra sets for men I liked."

"Aye, I did too. Well, gave them to my units, didn't always like them all. But we got on, and I was richer than you were during your service. It made sense to keep them alive to keep me alive." He nodded. "They were lucky, I could afford to buy them better horses too."

"You'll be a good general," he said. I pretended he was right. Inside, I could still hear the screaming.

No, no no! Oh gods, no!

#### ****

## Chapter 27 - Blood Council

The first Blood Council was invitation-only and held on the Green, behind the main citadel buildings, in a massive marquee. The site was symbolic, being where Dragon landed and where the old Peterhaven Spaceport was before the Great Silence began, by then nearly three thousand years ago. The Great Silence was when the support starships from Home and the Inner Quadrants stopped coming, and we on Galaia, far out in the Sigma Quadrant, lost touch with the rest of the diaspora.

For the Council, there was seating arranged in tiers. With all the kings and queens of the Old Kingdoms in one place, security needed to be tight. We military types were afraid to twitch, recognising the signs of sentries just aching to put a bolt through anyone who looked even slightly suspicious.

When I was shot, the only reason I didn't lose my left arm was distance. At the limit of its range the bolt went through cleanly, breaking bone but not taking bone and flesh with it. A crossbow bolt at close range would happily go through a man and explode out the other side, taking large parts of his innards along for the ride, then embed in the person next to him. I reflected that I should be wearing armour under my clothes. Bernard had arranged some, but I kept finding excuses not to wear it. After all, the person previously most likely to try to kill me was on the run, somewhere between Joban and the east coast.

However, it was time for me to get back in the armour habit. I'd rejoiced in not wearing it, being out of the army, but being back in Sendren meant I was a target, especially if I was made military commander. Being next to Azrael also meant someone trying to kill the king might hit me. I promised myself, the very next day, I'd start wearing armour again. After all, of all events, the high security around the Council meant it was safer than even having a meal inside the citadel.

On my way to the meeting, I stopped at the infirmary first. Stefan said Saraia had been awake, but was sleeping now. It looked as if the whole process went perfectly. To my surprise I could smell the draconium, a strong smell that to me was simply essence of Dragon.

"Do you think she can heal?" I said.

"That's up to her," said Stefan, "the draconium only provides a boost to her own faculties." He smiled, but there was something shifty in his eyes.

"Is there something wrong?" I said. He shook his head and smiled.

"No, nothing, she came through very well. I've just been worried."

#### ****

Stefan looked more shifty than worried. I found out why when I saw Azrael briefly before the council. I could smell it. The king had taken draconium. I said so, very softly. He grinned. Keeping his voice as low as mine, he said,

"Don't worry, Polo, Mother had her share. It was spur of the moment. Stefan was surprised by how much they made, said he had enough for another few doses, and I asked him if I could take one. He wasn't keen but I begged. I said if Mother could survive it, surely a fit young man had a good chance. Mother sends her best by the way. And I am as always, forever in your debt." Open-mouthed but grinning, I was thinking that at last, Azrael was going to be happy. I nearly hugged him but, mindful of our audience, I just clapped him on the shoulder in a manly way. He grinned back.

"Congratulations," I said, "I didn't even think of the possibilities. That's why you're the king, you've got the vision. Though it was a bit risky, what would we have done if you'd not come through the draconium?" He laughed.

"Well, I did tell Stefan you were to be Regent if anything happened to me." I gave him a startled look, but he seemed to be serious.

"Gods," I said, "you bastard!" He laughed.

"I knew you'd say that. Oh thanks, by the way, I got your report on the Hunter woman. She's missing, must have been worried what would happen to her if she stayed put." I said that when he had time for a private chat there were other important things I needed to discuss.

"Aside from Maggie going rogue." We smiled at each other a moment, then walked together to take our places in our basic kingdom factions of East, West, North, South, and Central. Azrael was in Central with me. I was surprised by how many of the people present I knew, and not just in my faction.

The old King of Highcliff had temporarily left retirement to run the voting, apparently not carrying any grudges over Azrael's divorce of his daughter Isabella, the abdicated queen and Azrael's ex-wife, still resident in the Malion Asylum. Lewis kept it simple. We were to vote on forming a united kingdom. If the kings or queens in each faction voted yes, he would then ask all of us to vote on accepting Azrael as king of the new creation.

Azrael liked gambling more than I knew. To pin his future on the votes of Blood and Dragon, with all their foibles? They were all subject to those very human qualities of short-sightedness and jealousy. Once the king was named, the council would vote on my appointment as commander of the new army. If Azrael wasn't named king, I didn't fancy my chances. It seemed my life was made of speeches, as Azrael made yet another one.

He warned those present that rulers who dissented with the vote would be considered enemies of their own people, of the peasants, Dragon, and Blood who shared their towns and villages. Sendren had conducted research across the kingdoms and discovered that the people everywhere were overwhelmingly in favour of the new land of Theus. So was the Army of the North, which frankly I was surprised over, and wondered how Azrael had managed that. Civilians, well, it was easy to see how they might be persuaded.

Everyone knew someone dead or injured in the war, then there were the men whose minds were shattered. Everyone wanted the Sriaman menace ended, and most rulers could see the advantages of alliance. This new Kingdom of Theus would be good for the people. Even the kings and queens were really only changing their titles, not losing much power or coin, mostly losing responsibilities, and nobody could stand against that. Of course, someone was bound to.

Bran Keller was King of Lakeleas, and fancied himself natural ruler of at least the southern third of the whole of Pangea, the continent which held both the Old Kingdoms and Sriama. When Bran stood up, I wasn't sure who he was. My first thought was that he looked like a Westwych. You could tell he was a cousin, with the thick black hair and blue eyes, and the stocky build of Theo's line.

"Who's the very Westwych-looking chap?" I said.

"Bran of Lakeleas," said Azrael, sounding amused. Bran announced his name to the chair and was passed a microphone. I confess he annoyed me from the start. Something about his manner.

"Most of you know me," said Bran. Most of us didn't, except by reputation. He was smiling and waving to some of his friends who'd cheered his opening words. Bran didn't mind boasting. Even when the boast was unfounded. "To those who don't, I'm Bran, the famous King of Lakeleas." There was some laughter and catcalls, now they knew who he was, but Bran was unfazed.

"Famous?" I said in an undertone to Azrael.

"How pedestrian," murmured Azrael, his face impassive. It was a private joke. Notorious was much better than famous and I was always notorious.

"I'm here to tell you the Leas Kingdoms won't be lying down in front of the Dragon Army," Bran said, putting a very sarcastic tone on the last two words. Cue the cheers of his supporters, and much rolling of eyes from those who thought he was an idiot.

"He looks like a Westwych," I said.

"His mother's a Westwych," said Azrael. I nodded.

"Uncanny really, his eyes are like yours, and his hair's exactly the same shade. He looks a lot like Bailey. The heavier side of the family." Azrael nodded, those blue eyes fixed on Bran.

"It's funny," he said, "how much he hates anyone with the name. Considering his blood. But his southern Westwych cousins treated him the same as they treated the people of Lakeleas." Bran ruled Lakeleas like his late first cousin before him, that is to say badly.

The palaces of the kings of Lakeleas were opulent and often redecorated. The people of Lakeleas were among the least educated and poorest in the kingdoms, despite rich soil, profitable fishing, and busy ports. By twisting the truth, encouraging the people to hate foreigners and be jealous of their supposed unfair advantages, it was much easier for a ruler to evade the blame for being a high-taxing spendthrift with a mismanaged economy. The peasants could blame the foreign kingdoms instead of their own government. Humans and their descendants like to blame other people for their problems.

The old kingdoms ran on a simple system. A king had the right to tax duchy rulers, who had the right to pass on costs by levying taxes and rents on their tenants, Blood or peasant. Sensible kingdoms had low rents and taxes, encouraging settlement in generous numbers. In return the king and his lieutenants the duchy rulers, were supposed to spend at least a little of their income on good works about the place. Hospitals, schools, colleges, universities, roads, and those always-expensive bridges. Port and coastal defences should be fierce, inland ones secure, taxes moderate, infrastructure maintained and rebuilt, and wages should attract good workers.

Instead of spending some of the wealth on sensible projects like road maintenance, the Lakeleas Crown banned guild workers and accredited schools, introducing a special qualification which permitted the holder to set up a business or teach, achievable simply by paying for it. The guilds were based in the evil north so simple logic said they shouldn't be allowed to operate in the Lakeleas. Guild tradespeople faced hiding their credentials or leaving.

Bran's cousin the late king removed the rights of the peasants to a set minimum wage, claiming it was better to let the market set the rate, and if the market wanted men or women working seven days a week for eighteen hours a day, then the workers should do it for the same hourly wage they'd get for a few hours in the late morning. Maybe less. He paid wages that would get him laughed out of anywhere north of the Little Dragon.

When Bran took over, he even removed the right of workers to compensation if injured at work. Business owners loved him, as their costs went down and their profits went up. Their prices to the public, of course, stayed the same or even rose.

Funny thing about people. Most wouldn't leave their homes or the comfort of the known. They would hold on, thinking things would get better. Wages down? Taxes up? Life getting harder? Even as bread became unaffordable, the invader marched past their house, or the waves lapped at the back step, they'd stay put. Especially if the government kept telling them it wasn't the government's fault, it was those pesky northerners making it impossible to pay a living wage or improve working conditions.

Whether afraid of change, believing in propaganda, or sure of an upturn, it was much easier just to stop where they were. Fear could drive people to run, but it immobilised many more with either imaginings or ignorance. The best tended to leave, the ones prepared to start again, who let their fear be transmuted into the stimulus for a new beginning. So Bran was left with a lot of people who were ignorant and afraid, even of their neighbours. People over the kingdom border were scarier, and people actually over the Little Dragon? Beyond the pale, which some thought referred to the pale waters of the Little Dragon River, but in fact was an Old Anglic phrase. A pale had been a fortified fence, at least so I'd read.

To Bran and the others under his Leas Kingdoms banner, everything past the lower third of the country was the north and automatically suspect. Not satisfied with the continuing destruction of his own inheritance, Bran persuaded other southern kings to do the same, boasting about the obscene profits of the Crown of Lakeleas whilst claiming the northern guilds spread sedition and inhibited free trade.

Let the market decide who was good at their work. They'd survive and anyone who didn't wasn't up to standard. I heard he was reading old Yusaf economics. To me it was very like the corruption in the Military Guild. It also had the same end result, in that the results were not up to standard.

That most people were incapable of judging decent workmanship and were loath to complain when the object fell apart, too apathetic to return it, or simply afraid of conflict, didn't seem to penetrate the smug assurances of the Leas rulers. Nor did what some business folk were prepared to do to corner a market then to keep it, or how many safety and pollutant considerations a man in business would be happy to ignore in pursuit of profit. Some would always lie, cheat, and steal, it was a fact, so being too trusting to any money-making enterprise meant you might as well bare your people's throats for the slitting.

Dragon obviously spread their bloodlines around the south as they did everywhere else. Officially, though southerners co-existed with Dragon most profitably for centuries, they weren't fond of them. Like all the old kingdoms and despite their prejudices, the Leas Kingdoms had the Law that stated only the cat's-eyed could rule. Cat's eyes meant Blood, so Dragon blood. Many in the south ignored that and pretended Blood just meant aristocratic birth, and muttered about Dragon being offworlders who'd supplanted the natives and installed a colonial aristocracy.

Coincidentally, the same colonial aristocracy that was now whipping up anti-Dragon fervour. It was enough to make me laugh, except that until recently many of the more northern kingdoms were subject to the same prejudices but - thanks to Sendrenese and, I guessed, Dragon propaganda, along with Azrael marrying Lilith and me being outed as a shape-changer - the people of those kingdoms could no longer ignore our real ancestry.

In my view, King Bran of Lakeleas obviously admired Azrael's notions of conquest and was working to unite the south with himself as king. The north was welcome to join him. Or he would take us by force. Militarily impossible, but when Azrael tried to annex any of the Leas he would find himself with an uprising of the entire south on his hands. We would win eventually but at what cost?

A war among the kingdoms would echo its hatred down the years. I'd read old Yusaf texts that talked of civil wars where - although the actual fighting was over in four years - hatreds carried on for centuries, so I had no faith in either the old ways or in people's abilities to let the past rest.

For as long as I could remember there had been gossip about our enemy in the south, Bran and his 'Leas Kingdoms' movement, so I was surprised to find he looked about my age.

"How old is he?" I asked Azrael.

"Twenty-five."

"Really? He looks younger." The fiery speech went on.

"-and Dragon are bloodsuckers," Bran was saying, "on the common people, and it isn't just the Leas Kingdoms need to stand against their depredations-"

"Bloodsuckers?" I found myself repeating aloud. "Depredations? Reminds me of Cida. And like her, he's Blood trying to raise a revolution against his own cousins." Cida didn't have cat's eyes, but on her mother's line she was definitely descended from Dragon.

With emotive words like rape, kill, and exploit, Bran described the way the north treated the south. It was slick, plausible, heartfelt, and utter lies, every damn word of it, however highly emotionally-charged, but you could see those in his thrall narrowing their eyes and saying yes under their breaths.

I understood Bran perfectly. He would be king of all if we'd all just get out of his way. Or even if we didn't. I'd seen so many people who wanted power or at least to be close to it, and knew the signs. There were others in the crowd as savvy as I was, who wouldn't fall for it, but there were some who did.

Azrael didn't want power. Since he was born, he had been told he was born to be king of all. Power was his. It wasn't conceit, simply how things were. He wasn't exploiting anyone, his conscience was clear. Despite being our senior by four years, Bran looked soft and milk-fed compared to Azrael. The dragon scar down Azrael's right cheek – where his Aunt Kristen had caught him with one claw, in between chewing his left hand nearly off, ripping his right upper arm open, and nearly killing me - gave him the air of a man who'd experienced more of life than he actually had. One shouldn't discount the Westwych charm or the power of good looks, and again Azrael came out ahead of Bran. He stood and began to refute Bran's speech.

Once again, Azrael briefly explained his notion of the united kingdom, calmly rebutted every distortion, every lie, then reminded the southern kings of the Dragon Kingdom's promise to the kingdoms it subsumed. As their nations were lacking in infrastructure like good roads, bridges, ports, hospitals and schools, they should remember the new kingdom would of course be responsible for building all such works.

"-and maintaining them." There was good-natured cheering from the middle kingdoms and northerners, the east looked like going mostly Azrael's way, and the southerners all looked at each other. I wanted to knock their heads together. There was a moment that stretched, with us suddenly silent, looking at all of them, and them all looking thoughtfully at each other. One could see what the dissenters were thinking, that the south would likely be getting more out of the new Crown than their taxes in would ever amount to.

That wouldn't happen if they joined Bran's Leas Kingdoms. The Leas couldn't stand up to the new Dragon Army and a kingdom couldn't stand alone, so they'd be getting a war unless they joined with Azrael. Another war. As they were outnumbered by the north many times, it would be bloody and short.

"The people of the Leas Kingdoms are leaving," Azrael said, "they have been judging the rulers with their feet over the last ten years. All of the southern kingdoms have suffered a net loss of population. There are many more who would leave but are being kept artificially poor by low wages and bad conditions, so they don't even have the resources to travel.

"Some of your people have made it as far as Sendren, where we can always employ a few extras, but it's having a serious destabilising effect on your near neighbours." There was a muttering, mostly in agreement. "Thanks to flooding of the labour markets and the abandonment of a minimum wage, wages immediately outside Lakeleas are even lower than within it.

"Thanks to your efforts, King Bran, the entire southern half of the country is being held back. The damage is spreading. Smaller kingdoms are feeling the effects of a wave of economic refugees, ignorant and untrained, poor and hungry, even here in the Central Kingdoms." Everyone except Bran's cronies seemed to be nodding. "Along with the thousands turned into refugees by the war in the north, we cannot also deal with economic refugees from the south.

"We warn those kingdoms that think they can continue alone, your actions affect us all. We will not stand by and let you abuse the people in your care, driving them away from their homes." It wasn't an implied threat, it was a direct one. This was Azrael at his best, benevolence tempered with the steel that showed his strength. He would have his united kingdoms or die. Bran just wanted to be richer.

I guessed the various rulers of Bronlea, Mountleas, Southleas, Northleas, Eastleas, Riverleas and the other tiny kingdoms, whose names escaped me as not all of them conveniently ended in -leas, might be thinking they should perhaps take the easy route and vote to join the Dragon Kingdom. They could always withdraw once the wars were over. Not Bran of Lakeleas. Bran laughed, and tossed his head in a derisive fashion. I half-expected him to drop his trousers and bare his arse. I wondered if I could introduce him to Maggie. They both liked the dramatic gesture.

I imagined them standing in front of a mirror, tossing their hair and telling each other how fabulous they were. Come to think of it, Bran reminded me of Indigo Sutherland, only Indigo was blonde. Maybe Bran was gay too. I must ask someone. Possibly not Azrael. The latter was still speechifying. "Also," Azrael said, with a genial nod to Bran, "as the new dukes of your new much smaller duchies, you will of course be able to keep your crowns, they will simply be renamed ducal crowns. You will keep the wealth currently in your treasuries. We plan to set up a new inland treasury in Malion with a safe vault for each duchy. These will be private, as sacrosanct as a temple, a secure option for the treasures you don't want to risk in a duchy open to depredation. We do not need to rob you. The new kingdom will be wealthy.

"It will spend its coin, particularly on secure transport in order to facilitate defence. This can't happen overnight, and our first order of business will be to identify work required. We estimate several million golds will be spent in the first year. This influx of coin and jobs into what will be your duchies should be obviously beneficial to everyone." I began to tune out, I knew the basics.

In the last year several towns had been ravaged by what we called pirates, the Black Shippers. In short but ferocious attacks that overwhelmed any local defence force, they took all the treasures they could find, along with all the people they could capture. The pirates were then gone before reinforcements could arrive. They'd learned to target royal or ducal residences, where a ready store of trained servants, coin and treasures might be found. They preyed on coastal places or anywhere easily accessible from the coast, like up rivers or a short walk. They didn't mind who they took as slaves, Blood or commoner, though as the Blood were much stronger they found it harder to capture us alive.

Azrael went on and on. I contemplated which of the women in the Central region I might like to tumble. Perhaps I should focus on those from the western kingdoms, get some tumbles before they returned home? I was working hard trying not to yawn, especially as I was seated right next to the king. "And may I remind you," Azrael said, "you will no longer have to listen to your ducal rulers complain but instead will be able to say, go see the king, and also have someone to complain to." There was laughter at that. If I were the king of an average kingdom, trying to stop my dukes from squabbling or begging me for lower taxes all the time, the ability to keep my wealth and personal estates in exchange for less responsibility would be appealing.

Being a duke was an easy life. Those currently dukes would keep lands and wealth too. All of us would simply shift our duchies' taxpaying to the new Dragon Crown while continuing as very well-paid tax collectors. We would answer to a new master, or at least those not from Sendren-Highcliff would. Azrael was already my king, nothing changed for me. Except that the bastard had made me his military commander.

That was the only negative aspect from my perspective, going to war again. I wasn't over the last time.

To much cheering, Azrael sat down and then we voted on the formation of the new kingdom. To my surprise Mountleas voted for, as did several southern kingdoms that weren't expected to. Predictably the north and middle were solidly for, but the east had only two dissenters of the expected twenty or so against. Azrael had well in excess of the numbers he needed to form his kingdom but, as he told me, he didn't want to set the kingdoms against one another. That kind of war left a lasting scar. He put it simply. "Your Majesties," said Azrael, "in view of the strong feelings of your friends, families, and neighbours, of your fellow monarchs, will you reconsider your no votes and join us as we seek a lasting peace?

"Will you be part of our endeavours as we return to the stars? It's your birthright, and we feel strongly that it's the birthright of your people." The easterners reconsidered at speed. Seeing everyone else was in they didn't want to be excluded then invaded, because any idiot could see those were the choices. Twelve kingdoms had been left in the south, six of which suddenly voted yes, drawing cries of traitor and quisling from the diehards saying no. Philip of Gyr, Bailey's father, one of the southerners who'd voted for the Dragon Kingdom from the start, was one of many angry kings.

"This is not what is best for the old kingdoms," he shouted, "preserving the ignorance and poverty of your people in order to exploit them!"

"We're preserving our way of life against the northern invaders!" shouted Bran.

"You're preserving your own arse," someone in the west shouted back, "you didn't get those eyes from your peasant ancestors!" I laughed. Everyone did, one couldn't pretend not to have Dragon blood forever. Even Bran nodded and smiled. It was all getting very loud. Azrael had the advantage of a microphone.

"Quiet!" He held up a hand. "We've had the vote and once more, we give the dissenters a chance to join us willingly."

"Or be dragged kicking and screaming," Bran shouted.

"Aye cousin," said Azrael, losing his genial tone and expression, "if we have to, we will teach a petulant boy that his people have had enough of his selfishness. Most of them are sure that Lakeleas is poorly governed and welcome its absorption into an alliance, by force if necessary. Apparently they're in favour of schooling and a decent wage for all, not just those lucky enough to be king or born in the north." If words were all it took, Azrael would have persuaded Bran and we could have all gone home, or at least to shower before dinner. However, Bran wasn't listening. He kept shouting his catchphrases like,

"We will not bow to the northern invaders!"

"The Dragon Kingdom has been proclaimed," said Azrael, his tone sombre now. "Again I offer you all the chance to join us willingly." The remaining six naysayers stood firm. "Very well," Azrael said finally, "you leave us no choice." He smiled. "You will of course abstain from the next vote and cannot stand as monarch."

Azrael was unanimously and very suddenly the Dragon King. Turned out nobody else wanted the job. There was more cheering, the six southern kings the only ones not smiling.

#### ****

## Chapter 28 – The Dragon King Shows His Teeth

From where I was I could just about hear Bran grinding his teeth. I thought our new king was going to tell the dissenters they'd be escorted to Sendren's southern border, where they could take a water journey along the Little Dragon to their homes, but I hadn't reckoned on the new Azrael.

"We regret," he said, "that our first decree as Dragon King must be to order the imprisonment of those enemies in our midst." The guards were already moving in, this bit obviously planned for, though judging by the numbers of guards standing by Azrael was ready for many more arrests. He read out the names but the guards already had hold of the people concerned. "You'll be imprisoned until the next Blood council, when your cases will be heard. I'm thinking next summer will be soon enough to drag everyone back here. We will appoint interim rulers for your kingdoms." The rebel kings, now without countries, were taken away, no longer kings and not even dukes.

Bran was furious, making all kinds of threats. Yes, I decided, he and Maggie were perfect for each other. Either would throw their lives away for the sake of posturing.

The way Maggie was going, she'd probably meet Bran in gaol. They'd fall madly in love right before they hung her. Perfect romantic tale. It was always the judgemental women who ended up lovers of the most destructive men. Their judgement of themselves was the problem. Like Cida Innes with Young Perry. She was another woman I knew who was likely to be hung and, to my mind, whatever Cida thought of me and Azrael, she thought less of herself.

There was some gasping with the arrests, but not one of the new rulers of the new Duchies of Theus so much as remonstrated with Azrael. Most of them just nodded. I reckoned putting the dissenters in gaol while they thought about the future was a good choice, and was one of those nodding. I was also thinking hurrah, the meeting will wind up. We can relax for a while before dinner. "I would appreciate your suggestions," Azrael said, drawing everyone's attention again, "on who would make the best heirs to the now-duchies that find themselves without rulers.

"For now, the former heirs to the former kingdoms will be put under house arrest in their respective home duchies. If you think they are the best for the job, prepared to work with the rest of us, let me know. Qualified stewards will be running those former kingdoms, making sure the transitions go smoothly and works can begin on bringing the south into the modern world. I'm afraid we're going to need to educate several generations of adults along with the children.

"The Dragon King and Queen thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for your kindness in making us your monarchs, and I do hope you are repaid in your faith in me many times over." There was no doubt it was faith in Azrael driving the council, not faith in Lilith. I couldn't help noticing he said "I" and "me" at the end, not "we". Nice touch, made it less a distant hope and more a fervent personal one. There was cheering. "For now," said the new Dragon King, "you are all our guests until our wedding this Saturday. I'm sure you'll find much to amuse yourselves in what is now the Duchy of Sendren, in the new Theus, the Dragon Kingdom. We have a few items of business still to attend to." He left the dais. It was hard to believe, but the Dragon Kingdom was real. I smiled. Azrael caught my eye.

"Theus," I mouthed. He came over.

"It sounds good, eh? Sorry to spring this on you, but would you make a speech before I offer you as my commander?" I laughed, but he wasn't kidding.

"A warning," I said in a grumpy tone, "that's all I need. I didn't prepare a speech. You only just told me I was being considered. Galaia bloody preserve me." The last went out over the microphone as he laughed and handed it to me. Then he snatched it back.

"Ladies and gentlemen, equal as we all are in this council, I present my choice for Dragon Army Commander, His Grace, Polo Shawcross, holder of the Red and the Black Dragon for bravery, the notorious Duke of Starshore." Everyone laughed. It echoed back from the walls like a great wave. It was just what they needed, and everyone relaxed, hoping I'd be entertaining and brief. There are times when an off-the-cuff speech is an awful bore, full of stuttering, hesitancy, and nervous laughter. Mine went well, which was a relief because it could have easily gone the other way.

Thanks to my own time as duke, I was used to giving speeches. I kept it short. I wanted the war over and wasn't going to waste men or money doing it. I didn't bother explaining how I'd do anything, just that thanks to Dragon's involvement I was intending to re-establish our old borders and hold them. I would not invade Sriama but I would defeat them.

"It is imperative that we break the cycle of incessant re-invasion of our north by whatever means." I hoped I was making sense. "I have my ideas on how to do this, but welcome input from any of you. I'm young, and known to be an idiot, so I'll be seeking the counsel of those older and wiser." They laughed. Pleased I got a laugh, I thanked them and the king, and sat down.

My appointment was put to the vote. To my surprise nobody voted against, though about twenty abstained, mostly southerners who wanted the dissolution of the army, not its reshaping. I was officially commander of the Army of the North, which had just been renamed. We were now the Dragon Army and all of us peoples of the old kingdoms were now citizens of one land.

I imagined how in a day or so the drinkers in the inn, back in my hometown of Lower Beech, would hear the news and say things like,

"Theus, the Dragon Kingdom? Well, that's a bit wordy, eh? Will the fancy new name mean cheaper ale?" Everyone would laugh. Someone would point out that their duke, Azrael, who was also Duke of Beech Wood, now ruled the old kingdoms.

"Beech Wood men," someone would say, "we rule the world." The barmaid would pointedly remove his drink and he'd not understand until someone nudged him and whispered, then he'd add hastily that he meant men and women, of course. The barmaid, if she was in a good mood, would put his drink back before the ale went flat.

Then someone would say that there was even more interesting news, because young Polo Shawcross was the king's new army commander. No, they'd say, our Polo? Tess and Evan's boy? And everyone would nod. There was bound to be someone who would say they always knew that lad was destined for greatness despite most of them not paying any attention to me at all.

I hoped there were some people who smiled secret smiles without explaining why, and that all my ex-lovers weren't now boasting about me to their friends. Come to think of it, the barmaid was an ex-one-night-stand, would she be smiling? I didn't think it was one of my best nights. I was so drunk I had no night vision at all. And we nearly got caught by her husband.

Meanwhile I was an acting general, so Azrael told me, but maybe I should be a field marshal. Nobody was sure but it was being researched. My official rank needed to be beefed up to cope with all the different levels of general I was going to get to boss around. Now that was a pleasant thought, soon I would be bossing generals. I was looking forward to that.

Azrael hoped I could head north immediately to meet with the generals and as many of the multitude of brigadiers, colonels, and majors I could manage. I would choose adjutants and advisors, and begin the introduction of Dragon back into the army. I muffled a groan. Maybe I'd be able to get some sleep on the way to the north. I muttered to Azrael that immediately was relative, and I needed to do some research in the Redoubt libraries, if he could swing that with the missus. I used those exact words. Of course Lilith heard me. Woman had ears like a bloody bat.

"We're not married yet, Your Grace," she said in an amused tone, "when we are I look forward to being addressed as the Royal Ball and Chain." Azrael laughed, and I bowed to Lilith, trying to look contrite. The women present tittered, the men smiled nervously. Lilith smiled at me, which was good because evisceration had seemed a likelier response. Aye, she scared me. It was quite normal. Lilith terrified most men. "Of course Redoubt's libraries are open to you, Polo," she said, "I hope they are of use in your quest to end the war quickly." I thanked her in appropriately grovelling tones. She held my gaze a millisecond. I managed to look away only by bowing to her again.

Azrael announced Lilith's initial military commitment, a company of men. Four hundred wasn't many in the scheme of things, but it was a fully aerial company. Four hundred soldiers who could fly? They'd be useful. I was introduced to the commander of the Dragon company, Gregory Jericho, a lieutenant colonel. I wasn't sure in which army his rank was current. He and I shook hands, and I noted his cold green eyes, scattered with silver stars. His manner was friendly enough, but the lieutenant colonel had spent so long facing down enemies that he didn't seem to know how to soften his gaze for people any more.

"I told His Majesty," Jericho said, "it's such a pleasure to be here. And of course we all want to meet the famous Polo Shawcross." I smiled, as one had to, though it had a slightly pained aspect. Azrael saw it and muffled a laugh. Only those who knew us well could have spotted the interplay, but we'd been to too many of these functions to be able to fool each other. Other people though, that was different.

"It's wonderful to meet you, sir," I said, ignoring that I was to be his superior officer. "I've been a student in a small way of Dragon aerial military manoeuvres. I wasn't able to transform until recently so I'd appreciate some pointers when we have time." It was enough to get Jericho talking a bit. Sirring him at this point seemed the right thing to do. I was playing a role, being what I imagined I should be.

After my time at Court and in the army, acting was part of my nature. Like many people, pretence was something I learned while trying to evade my parents. Pretending to be working whilst actually skiving was my speciality. It wasn't that I was afraid of hard work, more that if I finished early thanks to working hard, I expected to lie back for a while afterwards without some officer, or Mother, finding more for me to do.

Surely I was a completely demented choice for army commander? I knew all the reasons they shouldn't pick me, especially as I wasn't over the last army stint. Why had they picked me? As with every non-com, I had an advantage. Providing I was smart enough to remember what being an enlisted man was like, it was easier to get them motivated.

On the other hand for commissioned officers, until the officer wised up - unless they had an unusual upbringing or a knack with people, and some did, but they were a minority - the men would get away with pretty much anything they could. I had the extra advantage of being an ex-officer cadet. Perhaps I was a good choice for commander, or would be if I was only ten years older. I babbled meaningless but complimentary replies to the Dragon half-colonel, and then was called away to meet someone else.

#### ****

## Chapter 29 – 'Ware Sniper

The meeting was breaking up, nearly full dark and time for dinner. The crowd left the marquee and began moving towards the citadel. The wind began to pick up, whipping leaves off the trees and destroying the neatness the gardeners had worked so hard to achieve. I sighed, letting out a breath, so glad it was over.

To my left was a big winged dragon in bronze, lit up with solar lanterns. It was supposed to be Lilith. This was where she disembarked from the shuttle – though in human, not dragon-shape - from the _Delta Queen_ , when Dragon decided to stop travelling after two thousand years. Her Majesty had not changed a bit. A gust swung the lanterns, the light almost gone from the sky. Fenric appeared from the crowd.

"I knew Jericho before he came out," he said. I wasn't sure what he meant. Came out from where?

"Came out?" I said. "You make it sound as if he's gay." Fenric laughed.

"He is." I groaned.

"Gods, why didn't anyone bloody brief me? It's bad enough being a duke and not knowing the woman pregnant to me has a boyfriend, but aren't generals supposed to be briefed? Field marshals more so?" I shook my head. "Anyway, glad I know that too. He came out in the army?" It was unusual but not unheard of. I'd served with openly gay men. And those like Dandy, who I was never sure of. Dandy, now there was someone I wanted on my staff. If he was still alive. Fenric shook his head.

"Jericho didn't come out while he was in the Army of the North. Greg retired and went home to Redoubt. Then he let it be known. He's a fine soldier. We didn't serve together but I know men who did, they rate him highly. Possibly highest." That was nice. Lilith was giving us good people.

"You think he'll take orders from Polo Shawcross?"

"Do you think I will?" said Fenric, smiling. I laughed. "You going to spank me if I don't behave? I wouldn't try."

"You're going to behave without spanking," I said firmly. "I know you want to persuade me not to take you north but it won't work. I need you. You won't have to fight. It's the only way I persuaded myself to go. I'm not bloody fighting either. That and I know I'm probably the only one they put up for the job who thinks one dead soldier is one too many. On either side. We both know I'm really too young for this." He nodded, there was no denying it.

"Aye. And you'll be fine with Jericho because you being friends with Azrael means you're acceptable as a leader to men like him. They know you're not prejudiced. He left the Army of the North because he was going to come out, so I heard."

"That kind of crap has to change," I said. Fenric smiled.

"People have always been haters, you idiot. Some things you can't change." I shrugged.

"Call me idiot all you like. I've seen how Azrael's life's been messed up. It shouldn't matter who he wants to kiss, unless he wants to say no thanks to a woman who wants him and tell her it's because he's gay. Women don't usually hold grudges over that. They're much more tolerant than men in some ways."

"Not afraid a gay man might turn them?" I nodded. "Well," Fenric went on, sounding thoughtful, "while we're talking kinds of crap that should change, what about women in the military?" We walked as we went. People kept congratulating me and I was kept busy thanking them.

"All this nodding and smiling to people," I said softly, "if I'd wanted this kind of attention, I never would have been notorious. I prefer people whispering about my scandalous behaviour and trying to avoid me, not all this smarminess. As for women in the military, I don't see why not. Women served in the Dragon military from its inception."

"Aye," said Fenric, "the locals were more unsettled by that than the way the Dragon could shape-change."

"Seriously?" I said, shocked. "Were you here?" He laughed and shook his head.

"No, I told you. So far, I'm not one of the long-lived ones. If I say we when I mean Dragon, well, it's since I changed shape. Even if I can't change shape again, couldn't deny the family. So it's we. But as to how I know, I read a book. Women here had barely managed to get the right to be free citizens again. The kingdoms were so backward, the women decided it was safer and easier not to serve openly." We both shook our heads.

"How can we be equal if women don't serve?" I said, and Fenric shrugged.

"We can't."

"I'm pretty sure," I said, "if I live to be a million and two, I will never understand people." After thinking for a few moments I asked, "Did they serve together or in mixed units? Should we phase them in or just introduce a company of women?" Our progress had slowed, the king was ahead of us and people kept trying to congratulate him too. At this rate we were going to be late for dinner, which was as much as I was focused on.

"Women served as frontline troops in mixed units," said Fenric. "The women officers were supposed to be excellent. Even inside the tribe, women had to be twice as good as the men to get to the top." The wind gusted. People shouted and laughed as it caught at hair and clothes. Fenric rubbed at his short dark hair. "Perhaps phase women in, but do it quickly."

"It's a good idea," I said, trying to sound grown-up while undoing my tunic collar, "and adds huge numbers to our possible army pool. See, I need your input. Women are more practical than men. They'll make a good addition, even if it's only on the logistics side. Women don't think like us. Well they do, but there's stuff they cover men don't." I stretched, thinking of both Lilith and Mother. Fenric was too, in a way.

"I'm just thinking of women who would have been good soldiers," he said.

"Cousin Miri would make a good scout," I said. "She scares me."

"The enemy would wet themselves," said Fenric and smiled. "Do you reckon your mother as the shock troops? Strike and withdraw. Soften the enemy up." That made me laugh.

"What about your mother?"

"Mine would be somewhere in the kitchens," Fenric said, "overseeing the kitchenhands while directing the cooks, telling the officers they'd get their dinner when she said and not before." I laughed.

Lilith was gone into the citadel, leaving Azrael to deal with a crowd of well-wishers and Hangers On. We weren't far behind the king, moving with the crowd, keen to get inside to the warmth from the chill of the autumn evening. I suddenly realised if the inside of the citadel was warm to me, either they were heating the place better or I was acclimatising. When I was a boy it always seemed chilly in the corridors, though once in a room it was usually warm enough, thanks to fires in most of the rooms. I guessed they'd improved the heating, because my quarters were often warm enough to be lightly dressed, despite us not lighting the fires, and that big sitting room had previously been chilly without a fire.

My mind was off in boyhood memories, when Azrael and I had gone every Saturday on visits to the various Royal Whatsits, and learned about the workings of the citadel. It was a great machine, endlessly maintained, repaired, and modified. One of the places I loved was the Kitchen Garden, and not because of the vegetables. Smiling to myself, I glanced towards the grey stone wall. There was a moment's movement on the top of the wall. Fenric and I saw him at the same time.

With uniformed snipers stationed everywhere, if I hadn't been to war I don't think I would have paid much attention, but my every sense screamed a warning. The king was nearly level with the man, who was not in uniform but in grey camouflage. Azrael's bodyguards were stood back, thinking the king was safe in the shadow of the citadel.

"Polo!" said Fenric. We were already starting to move.

"Aye," I said, "you see him?" Fenric and I ran towards the king. Of course, the crowds round Azrael were thick and on this of all days the average Hanger On had fought to get close to His Majesty. A woman elbowed me just as the person on the wall did more than raise his head and knelt up from a lying position. "Sniper!" I shouted and pointed. People began screaming. "'Ware sniper!" I saw the flash of metal as the man lifted his arm and threw a blade. He missed Azrael but hit someone nearby. People began screaming and the crowd panicked as he threw again. Under the lights, many couldn't see where the knives were coming from, just that people were falling. It seemed as if danger was everywhere.

Fenric and I shouldered through, sending courtiers and former monarchs flying. The crowd retreated like the tide, running off, leaving the king suddenly alone. The current Royal Guard were running towards the king, but the man on the wall had the advantage. A bolt from one of the guard towers sailed past the assassin, blown only just adrift by the wind, disappearing into the garden beyond. The guard towers had to be careful, not all could fire, thank to the risk of overshooting and perhaps killing the king or one of the former royals running around on the lawn. The assassin had a clear target but thanks to being rattled by the bolt skimming his shoulder, he made a bad throw and missed Azrael.

Fenric and I both reached the king. Fenric dragged him towards the nearest entrance, the King's Guard caught up and I was left behind. I wasn't sure why. I fell down, feeling winded. I looked down and saw the front of my uniform was undone. Then I realised it wasn't undone, it was cut. It wasn't until then that my belly began to hurt. It suddenly felt as if I'd been burned.

Another knife buried itself in the grass in front of me. Annoyed now, I turned to see where the sonofabitch was, only to see him looking right at me. For a moment I was struck by the fact he had blonde hair and cat's-eyes, shining in the darkness, then he threw knife after knife at me. I dived and rolled sideways, out of the light, hearing blades bite into the lawn behind me. As I made my feet at a scrambling run, I looked back over my shoulder, ready to dive out of the way again, just as one of the guard towers finally shot the bastard through the chest and he fell off the wall.

From somewhere high a woman screamed. I shaded my eyes against the citadel lights and there she was, nearly hidden, up on the roof, above where the kitchen garden wall abutted the wall, where the darkness was deepened by the lights that lit the entrance below, currently jammed with people fleeing the Green.

Blood was running down my belly from a deep slice. I tore off my clothes and transformed. The cut closed up though the blood still ran down. I spread my wings and took to the air, hoping the guard towers didn't shoot at me. The woman left her hiding place and ran across an expanse of tile.

She put on a spectacular performance, bouncing over obstacles like an acrobat before swarming up a pipe, with a quick swing over the guttering then a run up a very steep roof. She was down the other side, and as I went over the top she was hand-over-hand along the guttering before dropping the last ten feet to the next roof.

The Royal Keeper of the Citadel Roofscape once spent a Saturday instructing Azrael and me about the fascinating world above the walls and I knew, once over the next ridgeline, there was an easy slide down to the interior roofscape behind most of the citadel facade, where falling more than twenty feet or so became impossible. It also led to several roof gardens and terraces where one could enter back into the citadel with ease.

The woman had stopped, crouching in the darkness, no reason to believe anyone could see her. I hovered. She looked up and suddenly I knew what had happened to Maggie. I could tell Azrael she was no longer missing. I flew down. Cursing, she hit me with very sharp knife over a very short distance. Dragon skin had its limits.

Fortunately I was already dodging away, but the blade scored me before falling with a clatter to the roof below. I kept closing. She dodged away then threw another knife, causing me to seek cover by taking to the air again. Maggie didn't stop either running or throwing knives, so I flew up out of range and hopefully out of her human sight.

It began to rain, a sudden downpour, making the roofscape a dangerous place to be. Maggie kept going, looking over her shoulder to see where I was. I was trying to surf the rising wind without ending up slammed against the building, able to see her clearly thanks to the glow of her life-force. She was heading somewhere and suddenly went up over a roof, hurrying along just under the ridgeline the other side. She was back near the outer wall of the citadel, and took off at a flat run to a roof peak ahead, where she was outlined a moment against the sky. A Blood guard in one of the towers, armed with a crossbow and with excellent night vision, had seen the assassin felled, and then saw someone running away from a dragon on the roof. He was a practised shooter with a two-shot bow.

To stand firm when bolts are flying isn't a natural reaction. Lifted by the wind just enough, the first missed her and buried itself in the roof. She dived over the roof-peak. Another gust of wind, another bolt shot past, close enough that Maggie started involuntarily. Her feet shot out from under her on the slick-wet tiles. She fell hard down the roof, tumbled over the edge, trying to grab the guttering, failing, and then plummeting into a courtyard far below.

I swooped down in a frantic dive, wings tight to my body, but I'd been up, trying to stay out of range of her knives, and couldn't catch her. She hit the ground face-first. I cried out, nearly crashing next to her but flaring my wings at the last moment and managing to land, if a little heavily. Maggie was horribly injured and I hoped unconscious. I watched the life force flow out of her and dissipate within seconds.

Later I looked it up, because it seemed a long time, Maggie's fall and my desperate dive after her, but it was less than three seconds, the time it takes to fall a hundred feet. Slightly less, thanks to us being in the mountains. A falling body goes fast, accelerating massively every second. I only saved Azrael because I dived before he did, arrested my fall with my wings, managed to grab him, and didn't have to chase his falling body through the air.

"May Haka treat you kindly," I said aloud, "and Galaia bring you back to us when she can."

Right then, Jules appeared, out of absolutely thin air. I must ask how she did that. She was blonde, did I mention? I could smell her, she was real. How could she be real? An attractive woman, if dressed a little boyishly by kingdom fashions, in dark trousers, boots, and a clinging top. Busty, I couldn't help noticing. I wondered what kind of man noticed that kind of thing with a dead woman's body at his feet. I was in dragon-shape, but was that an excuse? She looked at me and whistled.

"So that's dragon-shape," she said. In reply I spread my wings and snapped them. "Cool," said Jules, then looked at Maggie, "that's a shame." She grimaced.

"Shame's one way of putting it," I said. "Hello again Jules."

"Hello Polo. I seem to have come at a bad time. Did she fall from up there?" I nodded.

"Aye." I frowned, and looked at her. I couldn't see through her. Not like Cree. "Was there something you wanted?" She shrugged.

"I wanted to make sure you were alright. I heard you scream."

"You heard me?" She nodded. "So," I said, "are you a ghost?" She smiled.

"I'm in-body," she said. "Ask Z-"she cut off a word, "I mean Cree. I don't need to project my self. I just am. Where I want to be."

"Neat trick," I said. She smiled.

"It is. Though you changing shape is also a neat trick. I wanted to tell you. When everything falls apart, you can call on me. I can hear you."

"Call on you? Are you a god?"

"Me?" She laughed. "No, just mind-send me. Remember, it works in space and time." And she took a step then was gone. What did the not-ghosts want with me? And what did Jules mean, "When everything falls apart"?

I was left with the bloody remains of Maggie. And somewhere in the awful mess, the beginnings of my child. Would it have been a boy or a girl?

Guards were arriving so I told them who she was, then pulled rank and flew off, leaving them to clean what was left of Maggie off the cobbles.

#### ****

## Chapter 30 - How Mad?

Back on the Green, I landed among people still running in every direction, often screaming and shouting as they went. I dropped to the ground and sat there, noting wings were good for creating a barrier around me. Feeling woozy, I stayed on the grass for a bit then got up, found my clothes and sat back on the grass thinking to change shape soon, just as soon as I had the energy.

Around me people were tending to the wounded. Someone suggested I might be one of them. I scoffed and she pointed out the blood on me and the clothes I was clutching. I laughed.

"Full bloody dress uniform!" I said, and let the lass lead me off to the infirmary. I was thinking about poor Maggie. It was stupid of her to be party to an attempt to kill Azrael, but what a horrible fate. As she fell, had she known I was diving after her? Gods, I hoped not. Then I noticed I was bleeding from several places where Maggie had creased me.

At the infirmary, I changed shape back to human without taking blood, exhausting myself, and found there were still some cuts that needed stitching on my belly and down my right side. That had never happened before, failing to heal after a change, and I guessed I'd reached the limits of my strength for the day. Just my luck, with so many wounded, they'd run out of anaesthetic. I could wait while more was fetched from one of the Peterhaven hospitals, or I could have the stitches done now. I voted now. I sat quietly while they stitched me, trying not to wince, failing, but managing to stay still enough so they could do their jobs, and before I could get out of there the king arrived.

He and Fenric had come to the infirmary to see who the wounded were, not realising I was one of them. They caught me up with what had happened with them. After I fell, the king stayed under Fenric's arm. Fenric found it hard to break old habits and though a knife hit his shoulder, thanks to his mail shirt it bounced off. He kept going, dragging the king, also armoured, towards the nearest safety, one of the rear citadel entrances. Azrael wasn't wounded, for which he thanked me. I confessed to being wounded twice, having healed myself once.

"Bloody idiot," Azrael said, "why weren't you wearing armour? You know you're not safe around me."

"Aye," said Fenric, in agreement with His Majesty for now, "bloody idiot. And you're a general! You're not supposed to throw yourself into the field of fire."

"Aye," I said, a little hoarsely, "probably shouldn't be commanding the army." Fenric laughed and Azrael snorted.

"You're not getting out that easy," he said, "besides, I think you're actually starting to look forward to it. Do it your way, isn't that what you said in your letters?" I didn't remember and gave him a blank look. "You always said," Azrael reminded me, "I can't do it my way, have to toe the army line." I remembered that.

"Aye," I said, "I'll admit to feeling less distressed by the notion of going back to the north. Being in command and having Dragon with us means a lot. Did Fenric tell you he's coming too?" Fenric groaned. Azrael smiled.

"I wish I was," he said. Fenric and I looked at him.

"Don't mention Alexander," I said quickly. Azrael laughed.

"Idiot, Polo." I smiled. "I was going to say I'll be there in spirit," he said, "and of course I will visit. I'm trying to persuade another company of Dragon troops to join you. We are promised a whole battalion eventually, mixed troops, but they refuse to leave Redoubt undermanned, so are bringing back people from leave and early retirement. By mixed I mean men and women, actually." I shook my head.

"We are? They are? Women? This is all news to me. Though I'd just decided to let women into the army." He shrugged.

"It's news to all of us. All of us not Dragon. They'll be on the Northern Front in the spring, which I'm told takes account of travelling time and leave required." My starter company of Dragon troops would be enough to mount an aerial reconnaissance of Sriama, something I hadn't mentioned to anyone yet, though it was in my notes.

"Some of them are settled overseas," said Azrael, "I didn't know."

"Me neither," I said, "do we know where? Overseas I mean." Azrael shrugged.

"Aye," he said, "I've been told. You can have the list if you like. I had to look up the places. Remember Theo's old atlas?" I nodded. "Not all the places are listed. Lilith had to point out the various countries. Many have changed their names since that atlas was made. The Dragon settlements are in places we're not in any kind of trade, diplomatic, or even rumour contact with."

"It's hard to believe," I said, "especially, it's hard to believe we didn't know."

"Lilith is completely mystified as to why we're even interested," said Azrael, "I feel sometimes as if Dragon are being deliberately cryptic, other times I remind myself they're proudly foreign, for all they spread their seed around." I wanted more than ever to get south and into Dragon's stores and libraries. If they were living outside the old kingdoms, what else were Dragon doing we weren't aware of? Time to use my friendships in high places.

"Do we know how many troops Dragon do have?" I said. Azrael laughed.

"I'm not sure. Don't think the companies are under central control."

"Freelance?" said Fenric, sounding surprised. I was surprised too.

"Aye," said Azrael. Fenric whistled. Azrael turned to Fenric. "Lilith's being a little cagey thanks to those mental exercises you sent me. Says my mind's shut off from her. Strikes me as something useful." Another person who quickly understood how to keep Lilith out, where it had taken me weeks to get the knack.

"I thought they'd be handy," said Fenric, smiling, "Polo taught me." Azrael smiled and looked back at me.

"Why didn't you teach me, Polo?" He didn't sound upset, though I was happy to hear that Lilith was.

"I offered," I said, "I only just learned while I was down in Cragleas. You remember Murray?" Azrael gave me a vague look. "Virginia's partner."

"Aye of course," said Azrael.

"He taught me," I said. "When you and I next did a lesson, mind-shielding was going to be it. Glad it's useful. I didn't think I could get your attention before the wedding." He nodded.

"You did try."

"Aye, and by the way, sire?" I gestured up at the roof. "That report I gave you because one of my tumbles went rogue?" He nodded. "She's no longer missing."

"The assassin was one of your tumbles?" said Fenric.

"Aye," I said, "didn't you see? Not the one on the garden wall, but he had an accomplice, Maggie Hunter." Fenric paled.

"The one you chased off the roof?" I winced.

"We heard it happened," said Azrael, "but not who it was."

"She shied at a bolt from someone else," I said. "I did try to catch her." Everyone winced. I sighed. "Also I need to talk to the Royal Ball and Chain about some things. I forgot to ask her just now. Is it alright for me to make an appointment with Lilith?" Seeing you're letting the kingdom think I seduced your ex-wife, sire, is it alright for me to openly meet your fiancee? Naturally, I didn't say that aloud. Whatever game Azrael was playing, I'd better play along. He was my king.

"Of course," he said. "I'm sorry about your girlfriend."

"She wasn't my girlfriend, just someone I did once, but aye it's a shame." I took a breath. "It was a lunatic, stupid, misguided, brainwashed shame. A bleeding, broken, shattered mess of a shame." I sighed again. "I told her she was going to end up hung." It occurred to me that Maggie falling off the roof was an Unfortunate Accident, in that it wasn't an accident and was very fortunate for someone, namely me. Despite not having caused it and having done my best to save her, I couldn't help feeling it was my fault.

"It's a hormonal imbalance, pregnancy," said Fenric, "like having a brain tumour sending you crazy. Pregnant women can't be hung. Can't be convicted of murder." Fenric paused. "I'm not sure about treason." We all looked at each other.

"I wasn't sure it's mine," I said, "I mean that it was mine. Cree said it was, but she probably thought the assassin was the father. If the assassin's her boyfriend." Azrael shook his head.

"And you called my ex-wife crazy." I shrugged and smiled.

"Isabella is in the Malion Asylum," I said, "that would point to me being right." He laughed and Fenric shook his head.

"Your not-girlfriend just fell off the citadel," Azrael said in a kind tone, "while trying to kill me. Possibly while trying to kill you. Though admittedly her boyfriend also tried to kill me -" I started to interrupt but Azrael guessed my question, "-aye, it was him, we've identified the body." We all thought about that for a moment.

"I think Maggie wanted both of you," said Fenric.

"Me and the boyfriend?" I said, thinking she hadn't seemed to want me much.

"No, idiot," said Fenric, "you and Azrael." I blinked. "I mean she wanted both of you dead."

"Oh," I said. Fenric managed not to laugh. If Maggie's boyfriend was like most Blood who committed murder, we'd discover Azrael's or my death would have furthered either a claim to money or to the throne, or would have avenged one. Maggie might have been motivated by religious or revolutionary fervour, but I doubted the boyfriend was.

"What other things did you want to ask Lilith about?" said Azrael. I thought.

"Shuttles, if they have working ones. And-"

"And?" said Azrael. I took a breath.

"I think there's another woman pregnant to me," I said.

"You going to tell me who?" said Azrael. I didn't know how.

"Your wife-to-be," said Fenric, saving me the trouble. I got ready to run to Kavarlen.

"Gods," said Azrael, grinning like a wolf, the scar on his cheek standing out. "She's brilliant!" I breathed out, feeling even woozier now that secret was out.

"Aye," I said, "she is."

"That book we read," he said, "about Dragon controlling pregnancies?" I nodded. So did Fenric. I wasn't sure how he'd figured it out, but on the other hand I simply hadn't been with that many women lately and Lilith was in my Big Book of Tumbles. "She hinted something to me," said Azrael, nodding. He grinned. "I'm rather pleased with her choice of sire." Gods, I was back to being a sire with decent bloodlines, a fate I'd avoided as a younger man.

The nurse came back, took my temperature, checked my responses, then a doctor put his head in, told the nurse to give me some mindweed tincture and said I could go but to take it easy. Azrael and Fenric helped me off the bed. "I know you told me Lilith was lifting stuff out of my head," Azrael said softly, "I didn't realise you meant literally." I tried not to laugh. Not because it wasn't funny, but because I was stitched in places that made laughing painful. I shook my head at him instead. Let him know how that felt.

"I wondered why you didn't seem to listen," I said. "You're really alright with what I just told you?" He smiled.

"Thank you again, Polo. Now, I have to run," he said. "Tonight's dinner is a celebration. Meet me in my quarters beforehand please." Fenric was pretending to be invisible but Azrael turned to him. "You too, Fenric. They're waking Mother later, so dinner won't go on forever."

"Aye," I said, "we'll be there."

"Idiot," said Fenric, when the king had gone, meaning me for getting in the way knives without armour. "Still, I reckon any doubts about your loyalty, or mine, must be gone. And Himself's let off trying to sire a child."

"I hadn't thought of that," I said, and tried to get my shirt around my shoulders without pulling on my stitches. Both shirt and the tunic were ruined. So was my Black Dragon medal. Dinted so hard the enamel was cracked. "Look," I said, showing Fenric. "It died that I might live."

"Poor little bugger," he said. "Told you, you're a lucky bastard." I shook my head and we walked out.

The usual insanity that followed an attempt on the king's life was going on, grounds alive with people searching for anything or anyone that shouldn't be there. Inside the citadel, the main ways were open but side routes were shut off, servant ways too. Anyone there would be subject to arrest. People would be going over Maggie's life, and her Blood lover's, to find out why she'd come after the king. With who her father was, the radical priest, there'd be little doubt as to why.

I wondered why the Blood boyfriend was part of it. From the way he moved and threw knives, I was guessing he and Maggie had been in the circus together. I also guessed that my initial notion, that she was the one having knives thrown at her, wasn't quite right. Or at least, she was an expert, no matter what she'd done in the circus act. She was better at knife throwing than I was, and I wasn't at all bad. She was better than her boyfriend too. If she'd been the one on the Kitchen Garden wall, things might have turned out differently. "Do you reckon Maggie's boyfriend tried to hit you," said Fenric, looking thoughtful, "or that you blocked one for Azrael?" I shrugged.

"Once Azrael was out of the way, he threw a bunch at me personally. Creased me but changing shape the first time fixed it. Then Maggie did this lot of damage. How did you know the other pregnant woman was Lilith?" He smiled.

"It figured. And she was in your Big Book of Tumbles. " I nodded.

"I'll be good and wear armour from now on while I'm in human-shape. I have a dress tunic that will fit mail underneath, but it might be in Starshore, is there anyone who can loan me one for tonight?"

#### ****

## Chapter 31 - Dinner With Friends

Sadly someone could, loan me a dress tunic, so although I wanted to go to bed or at least lie down for a while, we only had time to wash, change, and get high before heading out again. I wanted to be numb because my stitches hurt and I kept seeing Maggie falling ahead of me.

The borrowed tunic wasn't comfortable, especially with armour underneath, but it was no worse than my own would have been, and it all held my stitches firm. I took another dose of mindweed tincture. I wanted to be very high. When I looked in the mirror, I looked a little pale, but not ill. I tucked the little bottle into a pocket. My eyes were very bright, a side effect of the tincture, a vivid green ringed with bright copper.

Fenric laughed at me and said I looked very out of it but he didn't think people would notice unless they knew me. That would have to do, and we went next door to meet Azrael.

"Polo," he said in a solicitous tone, "are you alright? Thanks so much for coming tonight, you must be exhausted. Here, I promise if you smoke some of this you won't feel any pain."

"That sounds like a fine idea," I said. He handed me a pipe of some new crop. I took a few hits then handed it on to Fenric. I wasn't really feeling much anyway, but I've rarely been able to resist the notion of getting higher. It seemed pleasant at first. Along with a group of courtiers, visitors, and former royalty, we headed out. We'd need a new classification. Azrael and I had christened the women out to seduce us for our titles and money the Wood Bees, because they would be queen, and the Wood Ducks, because they would be duchess, so for the ex-royals, perhaps New Ducks would do. When I told Azrael, he giggled and said,

"Nude Ducks? The former royals? Perfect."

"New Ducks," I said, "but sure, Nude Ducks works too." Azrael laughed. We were halfway across the citadel, after several more smokes on the way, when the high from the first one hit properly. Everyone stopped walking, and for a few minutes I was legless, not much good for anything more than giggling. Fenric could walk but was talking to the statues, so for the moment was no use at all. I pulled myself together. Everyone except Azrael's bodyguards had tried the new mindweed, so I enlisted their help to shepherd the crowd. I managed to drag Fenric away from the statues, used him and the bodyguards as muscle, and marshalled the Court. As I told them all loudly, as I chivvied them into line,

"If I'm going to run an army, or at least head it, I should be able to cope with some stoned courtiers and a king!" I was using my best non-com voice. I would need to cultivate a field marshal voice. It should probably imply less violence.

The Hangers On didn't take me seriously but formed a conga line. The experience degenerated from there. At least they were following me and I was heading in what we hoped was the right direction. I let them dance but walked, my stitches wouldn't let me kick my heels up. I did know the way to the Golden Dragon Ballroom, and we conga-ed onwards in a determined if haphazard fashion.

I told myself it was much better than being on the Northern Front then remembered, thanks to Azrael, I was going back there soon. I tried to forget and, thanks to the drugs, managed quite well.

The dinner to celebrate the founding of the new kingdom was being held in the White Ballroom. The White Ballroom was new, none of us knew exactly where it was, but according to the Hangers On it was somewhere near the Golden Dragon Ballroom. We just had to find it.

Along the way we collected lost throngs of Blood, peasants and Dragon, all in their glad rags looking for the party. They were introduced to the new crop and soon joined the conga line, which was still very jolly and bouncing along saying things like, "La la la la la, hey!" They'd all kick in different directions and some would almost fall, but the others would save them. I was pleased to see the new peoples of the Dragon Kingdom were very solicitous of each other. It was also very funny, and the various bodyguards were taking it in turns to stop, laugh for a while, then soldier on. I managed to get the conga-line marching eventually. There were enough military types in the mob who had it ingrained and dragged the rest along. They insisted on doing it to a conga rhythm, which was interesting. Instead of a step after left-right, one jumped and shouted hey before beginning the marching again. It made sense at the time and, to my amazement, we were covering ground.

I was about to ask the sentries at the next door if they knew where dinner was, when a servant appeared from a servant door I'd just passed, and fended off Hangers On trying to get her to join in our bizarre group.

"Can you all get a move on please, lords and ladyships," she said, "only the cooks are having fits."

"Left right hey! Where's dinner?" shouted a chorus, which made us sound possibly dangerous. I was between her and the king, and he was laughing too much to be of use. The servant was backing away fast.

"Please, miz," I said, trying to smile in a non-lecherous manner, "where is the dinner? They said the White Ballroom." She nodded to me, keeping a wary eye on the others who were quietly singing "La la la la la, hey!" and dancing on the spot.

"Golden Dragon Ballroom that was," she said, gesturing to the next door, where sentries were already squinting at us, "you're nearly there." The old Golden Dragon Ballroom had been renamed, refinished in shades of white and gold for the occasion.

We sent the conga dancers in, still dancing, helped chase up stragglers, then jogged up ourselves. The sentries saluted the king then as an afterthought, me. Which made us giggle but we held ourselves together and walked in. We were so high, at first Azrael needed to take a breath and so did Fenric and I.

The redecoration was magnificent. The big carved wooden dragons on the citadel side of the room - below the mezzanine floor that held the musicians - had been stripped back, inlaid with white enamel and gold, their wings reworked and picked out in magnificent filigree that didn't block the light or one's view from the large mezzanine above. In their mouths they held chandeliers in gold and white enamel, strung with cascading crystals that seemed on fire as the light caught at the facets. Everything was refinished and updated. More gilt, more light, more white.

Outside the great paned glass doors to the terrace, which were open, even more people were seated in a tented pavilion on the broad terrace. Above our heads, the vaulted glass ceiling revealed nothing of the skies, reflecting back the Crown's glory until the lights were dimmed a little, which usually happened as dinner was served, when the sky's display would be viewable. The citadel band was playing, and paused as the herald blew on his trumpet.

"All rise!" the herald shouted. "The Dragon King approaches his hall!" There was the sound of people getting to their feet then an expectant hush.

"Nice touch," I said softly to Azrael. "Folk like a show." He chuckled.

"Oh aye," said His Majesty, in a perfect peasant accent, "show and a party after, keeps 'em 'appy." There was a cheer.

"Sire," I said, mock-bowing and waving him ahead of me. Politely, Fenric and I walked a step behind him.

"Nonsense," he said, "you and Fenric walk beside me. You were both prepared to die for me earlier tonight. While I remember, did we decide, are you a general?"

"Acting five star," I said, "but I'm addressed as field marshal." And I'm bewildered, because your fiancee is pregnant to me and you haven't missed a beat.

"Field Marshal Shawcross," said Azrael. I muffled a laugh. Fenric rolled his eyes.

"It's alright," I said, "as far as titles go." Azrael gave me a serious look, his dark blue eyes twinkling.

"Not as good as Duke of Starshore?" he said, and I laughed.

"Nothing is," I said. "Best title in the world. Though I'll grant you, Dragon King is a damn fine one. Congratulations." Azrael smiled. I was remembering the first time I did this, walked in to dinner with everyone's eyes on me. One needed to remember to breathe, and to watch where one was going.

The first night I ever spent at the citadel, Uncle Theo took me under his wing. I was taken aback then at the overt signs of my favour, which I recognised at being because Uncle Theo adored my mother. It was a welcome perk of having a beautiful mother. Men competed for her attention, even on a purely friendly basis, and did me favours. The huge honour the old king paid me, having me at his side and at the top table, had left me almost unable to speak.

Back then I was just a half-peasant whose mother was a Casterton, from a village nobody had ever heard of. Nobody had heard of Lower Beech now, but if you said that it was in Sendren, where Polo Shawcross was born, everyone would nod knowledgeably, because I was both famous and notorious and everyone knew I came from there.

Unfortunately, due to the scandalous behaviour of both my parents, everyone for several kingdoms had also heard of both of them by name. In the books based on my life, my parents didn't figure highly, but in real life and the gossip columns, Mother kept picking up new toy-boys and Father had a weakness for drink and Blood women. Sometimes when they were together it was worse than when they were apart. That reminded me, I must see where they both were.

"The Dragon King is in his hall," roared the herald, "Theus stands united!" There was more cheering, Azrael waved and smiled.

"Very good," I said in an undertone, "nice sense of ceremony."

"Aye," he said, "took us weeks to decide on the wording. One can imagine our descendants getting a chill, just hearing it." Azrael and I were talking. We were laughing, confounding those who were sure that we hated each other and I was just dying to launch a coup. The gossips would only be stymied for a few moments. After all, they'd say to each other, Polo would have to be nice to the king's face, wouldn't he?

For most people, once they had a theory, ignoring its disproving was essential. Compulsory for the religious, more so when it came to gossip. However many times I saved the king's life, the theorists would ignore it. It could be explained. I was just being cunning, like all plotters.

We continued down the hall as the band launched into the new Theusian anthem, _Theus, Loved Homeland_. The new anthem sounded much like the old anthem, _Sendren, Golden Land_ , which I had never liked, by the same writer, the Sendrenese Royal Poet, an elderly man who everyone agreed had lost his mind, but was popular with the older generation. Mad-but-not-dangerous, the Royal Poet was there in person to conduct a choir singing the new anthem, so I heard it as he intended. I walked at Azrael's side, slightly deferent, as one had to be. He paused every so often, smiling, mouthing thanks to old supporters and welcoming the new ones. The anthem droned on. The best line was perhaps the chorus,

"Dragon, Blood and human all now Theusians and free, living in true harmony, thankful for an end to tyranny", which perhaps gives one an idea of how, like most anthems, it was unremittingly awful. The melody was the same as the old Sendrenese anthem.

"Gods," said Azrael in an aside to us, "the scansion is simply abysmal. It changes from line to line. And he's saying all the old monarchs who are now dukes were tyrants. Or that Grandfather Theo was." The anthem got worse. We tried not to wince openly.

"He's lost it," said Fenric with surety, "Royal Poet should not be for life. And not in a new kingdom, either."

"I can't fire him," said Azrael with a sigh, "he's ninety-seven. And he asked me to my face if he could be poet for the new kingdom." We all sighed. "I couldn't say no. How many more years can he have?"

"Could be worse," I said thoughtfully, "he doesn't seem to be one of the long-lived Blood."

"He's too old to fire now," said Azrael, pausing to smile and wave to someone, "unless he stabs someone to death with his pen and even then, the victim would have to be popular. Mad-but-not-dangerous are safe in the citadel."

"Ever since born all we were, spirits everlasting by the score, nine shall call the quorum petit-four," sang the choir, as if wondering what it meant. I hadn't a clue. Everyone tried to smile politely.

"Nine ducal rulers can call a Blood Council," said Azrael, "but I don't know what a quorum petit-four is."

"Probably for the best," said Fenric. We tried not to giggle.

"The early years of the Dragon King's reign," I said, pretending to read a history text, "were unfortunately marred by exceptionally bad verse." The others did giggle, then coughed and pulled themselves together. I held my side, smiling gently through the mindweed haze.

Fenric and I were seated at the top table together, me next to the king. Azrael was often required to pay attention to others, so having Fenric there to talk to made it pleasant. Lilith was a couple of people away on the other side of Azrael, as the former king and queen of Mountleas, now the duke and duchess, were guests of honour. They'd changed sides so avoided the fate of the imprisoned kings. Bran and the others were in the dungeons, probably not having as good a time as the former rulers of Mountleas.

"Couldn't find a woman brave enough to sit next to Polo, sire?" said Fenric, his voice breaking into my thoughts. "I'm not surprised." Azrael laughed. I muttered something rude.

"I sat you here together because I know what you're both like," he said, "you'll slide away for a smoke and I'll never see you again." We feigned innocence. "This way I can keep an eye on you and you might stay until dessert. Please stay," he added in an undertone, "it's been such a day. And I don't know when I'll see you both again."

"Another reason not to be king," I said, "all the bloody dinners and speeches."

"You need a list," said Fenric, deadpan. It was an old joke. I'd once had a list of reasons why I wouldn't join the army. It seemed in bad taste to have one for reasons not to be king, as I'd ended up joining the army, so I shook my head at him, but he and Azrael both guffawed with laughter.

"I've been meaning to ask-" I said, then had to cut the question short as the Duchess of Mountleas politely interrupted Azrael with a question passed down the table from the queen-to-be. He answered and turned back to me.

"Meaning to ask?"

"How did the," I said softly, and mimed an injection, "go? You just said well." He smiled.

"I'm not rejecting the draconium. Stefan said I may not be able to transform, but I'll definitely get more abilities. If I work hard, he's pretty sure I can do it. Being young will help. Back when we were boys, I managed healing with only my born levels of draconium." And very old pure Dragon blood, I thought, in Virginia and Murray, who donated blood to us both. Did that make it more potent, the age of the Dragon giving blood? I remembered that Stefan and Lilith, two other very old Dragon, also gave blood to heal me. Stefan was after all, Azrael's father, so with any luck extra abilities were in Azrael's blood, and the extra draconium would allow those to develop.

"It's barely a science," said Lilith, tuning in on our conversation, "you're lucky you're alive. Some people have very bad reactions." The woman really did have ears like a bat. Azrael smiled and turned to her.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, it was a surprise to me too." The Duke and Duchess of Mountleas didn't know what we were talking about, possibly the unification of the kingdom, and just nodded and smiled.

Gods, I thought, Azrael just decided to take some leftover draconium on a whim, on the day of the Blood Council, and Stefan agreed? I nearly laughed, but a servant stepped between us, excusing himself to pour wine, and I was able to regain my composure. So Stefan dosed his child the king, and Saraia, the mother of his child, with something that might turn them into shape-changers or might kill them. I supposed as a long-lived Dragon, once you realised you were one, you took the long view. How old would I be when I could tell?

"Where's Indigo?" I said in a low voice to Fenric, realising someone was missing. He shrugged.

"No idea," he said. "Gods, it's more boring sitting at the top table than guarding it. Guarding it you get smoke breaks. It's the law. This is inhumane."

"Aye but the food's good," I said. "Look, isn't that Miri Westwych?" I lost sight of her as someone in the crowd at her table moved.

"Aye," said Fenric, "I saw her round a few days ago. You're to stay away from her." I made a face.

"No fear," I said, "another one I'll be avoiding." I said it quite vehemently, and realised one of the others I'd be avoiding was close enough to hear, sitting three seats past Azrael. Old Bat Ears herself. She looked beautiful, but Lilith always did.

"Mmm," said Fenric, his attention taken by a blonde in cream satin. I knew her.

"That one's married," I said. "If it matters. Me, I'm trying to avoid other people's problems."

"Right," said Fenric, "like their fiancees." I winced then winced again as the movement pulled my stitches.

"She wasn't his fiancee then," I said, holding my side, trying not to let Azrael or Lilith overhear.

"I don't care if she is married," said Fenric, and sighed as the blonde glanced at him from under her eyelashes. "I just want my cock sucked." He smiled at the blonde and raised his glass. "Ah," he said, "she winked. I do hope she comes to the dance later." He was busy miming 'Care to come dancing next door after we finish dinner?' to the blonde, while I let my attention drift.

My cock sucked, that seemed like a good idea. The lady flirting with Fenric was excellent at cocksucking, as was her husband. She was the bait for him, something I'd leave Fenric to find out. They were an interesting pair, well worth a night. I would find my own fun.

Anyone in the citadel would probably do me tonight. I was Polo Shawcross. On reflection, they would do me more because they were all ready to do anyone, being drunk and celebrating, than my pull was that good. I wasn't so pretty women melted as I walked by, but was told that the air of masculinity I projected was my best quality. Even as army commander, there were those who wouldn't give the time of day to the notorious Duke of Starshore, no matter how much influence he had, let alone give him the time to prove he was as good in bed as they said in the books.

On the other hand I now had more scabbard-humpers than I knew what to do with. Maybe some indulgence in a threesome or moresome was what I needed. Even a quick one with Lilith, if Azrael didn't mind. Before I went to the war. That was romantic and I reminded myself I was a cynic. I wondered what Lilith was. The champagne was giving my notions the glamour of ideas.

"You know," I said to Fenric, and drank some more, "we are due a celebration. I just took over the army. Pretty good for a boy who got kicked out of the Military Guild. And you're heir to a duchy."

"Aye, mate," said Fenric, "we've both accidentally done well. And now I'm going to be a duke. Without you dying, I mean. Otherwise that would have made it a sad duty." I'd made Fenric my heir during my time in the army. I raised my wineglass in thanks that he'd miss me. "After you made it back," he said, "I thought I was out of the possibility of a bloody duchy. You'd get married, have an heir or something."

"Or something? I thought you'd be good at being a duke," I said, but he shook his head.

"Aye, I probably would be. But like you I'll spend my life agonising over what I do, if it's enough. Am I being greedy with my rents and taxes? Did I give away enough books, gold cups, and ponies to make a difference? Are the people able to have a good life? Is there a bridge somewhere I should be fixing instead of spending coin on a party?" Did I sound like that? I felt defensive. I waved my glass to encompass the gathering.

"I have fun too. And what do you mean, I'd have an heir or something?" He laughed.

"Long as you don't marry cousin Miri it won't be a something. It was just a figure of speech. Remember you told me you'd adopt an heir if you needed to? As for me, I thought my cousins would breed and I'd be out of the line. Duke of Idriss, it doesn't seem possible." I relaxed and smiled.

"It's alright," I said, "being duke. Don't take me as an example of what it's like. I'm Blood but an outsider, half-peasant, never even within a whisker of a title. You're Blood, born in the line. I'm someone who threw a vase of water at a dragon when it attacked the king-to-be." I heard Azrael snort with laughter next to me, and glanced over with a smile. "For me it's interesting," I added, "the money's better than good. The duchy residents are so nice it's hard to take. You know I feel so bloody unworthy when they rush out to meet me and give me a jar of preserves or some just-baked biscuits." Fenric chuckled.

"Aye," he said, "you always look as if you're a bit embarrassed by all the fuss." Azrael turned back to us.

"I also find that hard to take," the king said, "how nice ordinary folk are. How can one be worthy of that? But it's the office they're respecting with their gifts, and the office in the shape of me needs to show its gratitude and respect."

"You've thought about this, sire," I said, gently sarcastic. So many times we had talked out our notions of political realities, literally until dawn broke. Azrael laughed.

"I think Theo used to say it, to be honest."

#### ****

## Chapter 32 - Plans

In many ways the dinner was awful. Between courses there were speeches. So many that we couldn't sneak out for a smoke until after the main. It was a celebration, with six courses, three of them before the main. If I hadn't been so high I would have been bored to death, but there was plenty of people-watching to be done, gossip to be shared in low voices, all with the best food and drink on tap. I was also moderately drunk, so feeling very little. Every so often I'd forget my stitches and that was painful, but I was fine providing I didn't try to do too much.

Lilith wasn't picking at my mind, but there were others, people who invited themselves inside me. I wasn't at risk, my defences held, but I was very offended, noted who attempted it, and tried to learn their names. As a lass I knew said, she felt slimed when a man paid her unwanted attention and wouldn't stop. That was exactly how it felt when someone tried to pry their way inside my head. Slimed. Like a stranger's hand inside your clothes, a sudden violation of self.

After the main course we swore to Azrael we'd be back and dipped out onto an uncovered part of the terrace for a brief smoke, before returning for more speeches before the pudding. It went on, the pick, pick, picking. By then I was annoyed enough by those doing it that I gave dirty looks to those responsible instead of pretending not to notice. Some of them looked guiltily away and stopped, others pretended they had no idea why I was looking at them or looked away as if they hadn't seen me at all. I was beginning to glimpse a new problem.

How did one legislate to protect the mind? Was it already there in the law books, like Redoubt's compulsory tutoring in mental protection? How did you prove a mental attack? Like rape, it seemed often hard to prove to others unless one had obvious signs. Would a forced entry into a mind leave it shattered and broken? I suspected it might.

My musings were most thankfully interrupted by a dessert of chocolate and caramel dragons served with fruits in fruit mousse and various accompaniments, of which I went for icecream. There was of course a cheeseboard and fruit to follow, which I managed to pick at a little. Figs quartered and spread with a magnificent mild blue vein soft cheese from Torc caught my senses. I halved grapes and nibbled those and slices of pear to cleanse my palate after each creamy rich mouthful.

To my surprise \- and despite the speeches - it turned into a pleasant evening, and when we were finally released it was as if we were boys again. As we always used to, Azrael and I bolted for the gardens, Fenric in tight formation with us. There was always a group of guards around Azrael, either closely or standing off at a distance depending on the security level. Over the years Fenric had learned to stick close, the king having been known to lose his guards on a whim, annoying them and scaring everyone.

Tonight there were three squads of sixteen within sight of the king and another around him, not to mention the citadel snipers lurking in the rooms above us. Everyone was on edge because of the earlier assassination attempt. I guessed snipers would be in the trees too.

"I wouldn't let you out here tonight," said Fenric, "sire." Azrael nearly choked laughing as he tried to light a pipe.

"But you're very strict, Fenric," he said, smiling and breathing out smoke. "The assassins are dead. From our information the couple wasn't hired, but were simply people with a grudge, working alone. Taking revenge for some imagined slight the Crown did them. So it's alright for the king to be in the gardens." Fenric snorted. Azrael laughed. "Honestly, every time someone tries to kill me it's as if you think the peasant revolution has come."

"Funny how they're always loners," said Fenric, very sarcastically.

"There was no conspiracy," I said, "isn't that what they said about me being attacked? Until they found evidence of one."

"Honestly," said Azrael, "if you're both going to get all Nanny Black on me I'll make you stand with the bodyguards." He caught the look Fenric gave me. "What?"

"What, sire?" said Fenric, his best impassive face on. I bet Azrael wouldn't crack him. That left me, Polo Shawcross, or Loose-lips Shawcross, as I was probably known.

"We were saying earlier," I said, "we had plans to get our cocks sucked, sire. I jokingly told his lordship Nanny Black would not approve." Azrael laughed again and it changed the subject. I wasn't as bad at keeping secrets as I thought I was. I lit a pipe.

"What's this we're smoking?" said Fenric. I exhaled.

"It's nice," I said, taking another hit.

"It's Lilith's personal stash," said Azrael.

"That," I said, as if it were nothing. Fenric laughed.

"Gods," said Azrael, "I think the new king, the Lord of Idriss, and His Grace, Field Marshal Shawcross, wait, is that right? Are you a field marshal?" None of us could remember. "Anyway, we may have trouble walking."

The second time round the mindweed hit faster. The giggles were never far away but we could keep walking. "I'm enjoying myself," said Azrael, "an unexpected bonus, Polo. I'm glad you came. You too, Fenric. It's good to have you here as my friends." We patted him on the shoulder, strictly hetero, and all pretended the silence wasn't because we all needed to swallow a little. Azrael's guards variously pretended to be invisible or not to be looking in our direction. We had, after all, nearly died earlier. And Maggie had died.

Why didn't I feel anything? Was it the drugs or shock, or was it enough in the end that she'd been the enemy? Apparently so. A woman knifes you - several times - and tries to kill your friends, it takes the gloss off any attraction.

"You both threw yourself in front of a knife for me," the king said. Fenric and I looked embarrassed. "And you, idiot friend, without any armour!" I began to giggle, which set them both off. Once I had control back, I asked Azrael how it had been with the draconium.

"Pretty bad," he said, and his face actually paled. "But compared to when Aunt Kristen bit me, or when they were reconstructing my wrist? Or when I was dying? It wasn't as bad as when I had the fever. And the draconium pain only lasted for about five minutes. Though I'll confess, I thought it was hours."

"What was it like?" I said. "Did you change?" He pressed his lips together for a moment.

"No, that comes later. It was like being flayed alive. As if Uncle Nate used the people peeler on you then turned you inside out. Then flayed you." We all shuddered.

"That's what changing shape feels like, by the way," I said, "it's very unpleasant." Azrael nodded.

"I think I might ban the use of the people peeler in Theus," he said, in a thoughtful tone.

"A good decision," I said.

"Something you're pleased about, Polo," he said. "Not even a day as King of Theus, and I've made one of my subjects happy."

"You know me, sire," I said, "I'm easily pleased." Fenric snorted.

"You don't hate me," said Azrael, "for making you commander?" In truth, I was quite annoyed but couldn't bring myself to hate him, especially when he was being so gracious about me inseminating his fiancee. I smiled.

"I have decided I'm a good choice. Too young, but otherwise?" I shrugged. "I'll end it fast and finally. Or tell you why it can't be won. Fenric will tell me if I'm being an idiot."

"We even have a slogan," said Fenric. "One more death is a death too many." Azrael looked impressed.

"Wonderful," he said.

"Before I forget," I said, "you're really alright with me heading down to Redoubt?"

"Of course it's alright, Polo, good idea. And don't forget to ask Lilith about the shuttles. Maybe she's prepared to share with you, because she won't with me. You should spend time in Redoubt before you go north. I'm sure there are people there who know more about ancient history anyone else in the kingdoms. It would be wonderful if they do have shuttles." He suppressed a laugh. "She likes you, after all." I looked embarrassed. "See if you can get some information about other planets, I'd love to know." I raised my eyebrows. Surely Azrael and Lilith could talk about all kinds of things. They had no sexual magnetism to distract them.

"She won't talk about space?" I said, surprised.

"No, haven't you ever asked?" he said. I tried to remember talking to Lilith. I could only remember flirting with her, sex, and being rejected. I affected the demeanour of someone who'd had many long conversations about life with his wife-to-be, instead of someone whose only real recollection of Her Majesty was of spending time trying to embed her beautiful body in the mattress, or her mine.

"I don't think so," I said, then had a brainwave. "I know she's touchy about her age." Azrael laughed.

"Gods yes, I made the mistake of asking her about that. Apparently refusing to talk in a straight line is a Dragon trait. Stefan says so, and he'd know."

"I thought it was just my mother," I said, "her being half-Dragon."

"That's all mothers," said Fenric. "The refusing to talk in a straight line part."

"You're more fun now you're working for him," said Azrael, grinning, "I'll miss you both when you leave." We would be leaving for war. I didn't want to go to war but was going anyway.

"I have to get the plan fine-tuned over winter," I said, pretending to be both mature and organised. "I'll keep you posted. I'm going to start with that trip to Redoubt."

"No time to waste then," said Azrael, "good. Glad Redoubt will put its libraries at the disposal of the kingdom."

"Aunt Clare wants a copy of every book," I said, "don't forget." Aunt Clare was Saraia's sister and the Palace Librarian. The new Dragon King smiled.

"I'll remind her. She can either organise it or put someone in charge. Did you ever do her, Polo?" I shook my head.

"Not me."

"She's just married," said Azrael, "it was an excellent party, next morning she was back in the library." I nodded, feeling good I'd never risked my library access with a possibly foolish fling with Aunt Clare. Besides, sisters were always risky.

"Polo's missing another Royal wedding," said Fenric. I frowned at him. Azrael might decide we could stay until the end of the week, and I was aiming to get out of Sendren before he noticed I wasn't there.

"Honestly," I said, "I'm not trying to." Azrael smiled.

"You have an uncanny knack for it, Polo. This time I'll take the blame though."

"Thanks for choosing me, Azrael," I said, "I'll do my best. Look, sorry, I need to go lie down. May we be excused now?" Turned out we could be.

#### ****

## Chapter 33 – Pining for a Pony

Once we were out of earshot I remembered I wasn't the centre of the universe, and told Fenric to go join the blonde, but he said he'd walk with me.

"We can't take the backstairs," I said, "all in lockdown. Remind me, why won't he let me have a pony in the citadel?"

"We'll use them anyway." I was astonished.

"You have a pony?" I said.

"Idiot," he said, laughing hard, and showed me a key. "Perks of having been part of the King's Guard. I still have a key."

"A key?" Not only astonished, I was slow on the uptake.

"Master key. Doesn't matter what they lock off, I can open the door. No wonder people can get away with trying to assassinate the king inside the citadel. I can't be the only one." I shook my head.

"The bloody secret ways are a problem too," I said, finally catching up with the conversation, "time they were mapped properly and closed off. Theo must have been mad, leaving them all open." I sighed. "Why can't I have a pony? I'm the king's favourite, I should be milking it." I was feeling drunk. Fenric unlocked the nearest white door and waved me through. White from the citadel side, from the servant ways they were red, to warn the servants not to go through unless they wanted to tangle with the Blood and their whims. "Don't let me get you lost," I said.

"I remember the way," he said. "How did you find the way before?"

"I was relying on instinct," I said, and spread my arms, making myself wince quite badly, "ouch, like a homing pigeon." Suddenly I was stiff and sore. I had stitches, along with too many shape-changes and too much self-healing. I wanted a sleep.

"You're a bloody great idiot pigeon," said Fenric. "And you can't have a pony because everyone would want one. You know what the Blood are like. Then the servants would be saying there was inequality in the citadel, where were their ponies? Sometimes servants run for twenty minutes or more, looking for the Blood. And Citadel Maintenance would be muttering about bloody pointy little hooves destroying the floors. Not to mention the damage manure and piss would be doing to the carpets."

"Can you house-train a pony?" I said. We both thought about that for a bit. "I thought you were going to be annoying," I said, "so that I'd kick you off my team of advisors. But that comment to Azrael, about our motto? Masterful." He had his expressionless bodyguard mask on, giving nothing away.

"They were your words," he said with a shrug, "besides, getting out of another royal wedding and coronation, that's masterful." I laughed. He smiled.

"I'm curious," I said, "after how annoyed you were with him, why did you shield the king?" He blew out a breath.

"Habit? Technically, I should have saved you. But you can look after yourself." He laughed. "Or so I thought. Idiot." I smiled.

"Thank you, Fenric." I took the first right. From behind me I heard Fenric,

"Polo? You're going towards the baths."

"Wrong Way Shawcross," I said, retracing my steps. "I must get a map. The servants' versions are best, have the backstairs on them too."

"Why did you shield the king, Polo?" I sighed. I wasn't at all sure.

"Because although I hate some of his actions and have begun to doubt my safety around him, he's still my friend? And I've been in the army long enough to have that protective nature you get towards civilians. They're not supposed to be in the line of fire and they're not equipped to deal with it. I am. Only as we all noticed, I wasn't either." He nodded.

"You'll wear mail from now on. Every day."

"Aye," I said, "I will." I tapped my chest. "I am. I'm not that much of an idiot. Do you think Azrael would let me have a pony if I asked? We could have it pull a cart back and forth from meals to meetings. Say it's because we have war wounds. I'm bloody knackered."

"You'll be collecting your horses for the north soon enough," he said.

"Oh yes, I just volunteered to end the war, didn't I? Why in the name of bloody Zol didn't you cosh me then?"

"You'd said it before I could get to the sap and hit you," he said, laughing, "idiot." I was starting to forget to breathe again, overwhelmed by the enormity of what I had to do.

"We need to get all my duchy men together, and I need to second the men I want from the Army of the North. Do you know General Slade? I'd like him to help me out if he can, with at least one meeting before he leaves to look after his wife."

"We have friends in common," said Fenric, "I'm sure he'll help you. Besides, he'll do Sendren a favour. Long as you don't want him to go to war."

"I know exactly how that feels," I said, "I won't make him."

#### ****

I had notions, about how to stop the stupid wars in the north, but I was a boy. That was my reasoning. I wrote down what I thought might work, then kept it aside as I listened to the older men and made notes from their views. I wasn't stupid, though I certainly could be an idiot. I was a soldier, a good one for all I mocked myself. With my experience as duke and as the friend of kings and princes, I hoped I understood some of the pressures.

Also I had an advantage with the king, as Azrael and I got on. Providing we didn't let emotion get in the way, we could argue without taking offence. Though creaking a little, I was still in my physical prime, able to work hard, do without sleep and still find time for fun. It was doable. I was going to win the war.

First, I'd go see Lilith, if I won that battle, maybe I could begin to feel some confidence.

#### ****

## Chapter 34 - Consorting With The Enemy

At breakfast Lilith was like me, just in from riding. I caught her eye and she nodded and smiled as I went past on my way to the buffet. On my way back, I paused at her table.

"Polo," she said, looking pleased to see me, "Azrael said you wanted an appointment?"

"Aye, Majesty," I said, "you free after breakfast?" She shook her head.

"At nine I will be," she said, "I'll be leaving Azrael's suite then. Meet me outside, we can walk and talk on the way back."

"Thank you ma'am," I said, gave a little bow, and headed for where Fenric and Ross were scoffing down porridge.

Though technically employees, being Blood they were expected to eat in the public dining halls, not the servant ones, providing schedules permitted. A Blood bodyguard or employee of any kind could always get fed in the Servant Halls at any time, as could any other staff. They worked all hours, so were allowed more latitude than the Hangers On, the latter expected to last from scheduled meal to tea to meal, and so on.

Add in the bathing required, the dances most nights, the private and public celebrations, the thirty to forty minute walks to most citadel destinations, and despite the astonishing food, people had enough exercise to keep fit. I had long suspected the constant rounds of meals and entertainments were simply to keep everyone busy, because a bored courtier was likely to get up to all kinds of mischief.

Fenric and Ross were uneasy about me being alone with Lilith, but I pointed out the flaw in their plan to stay with me.

"She's not going to answer my questions with you there. She's more likely to invite us all to her bed."

"Gods," said Ross, "Polo's right." He smiled. "And I'm too young to die."

"I lived through it," I said. "Several times. She didn't bite my head off."

"Which head?" said Ross, and I ignored him.

"So you'll give us privacy," I said, "because she and I are adults."

"Galaia preserve us," Ross said, "I love it when you're masterful, Your Grace." I ignored him in an ostentatious and dignified fashion.

"Aye," said Fenric, ignoring Ross too, though he was smiling, "we'll leave you alone. But when she ravages your body we reserve the right to say we told you so." Haka help me, I was starting to think that wasn't such a bad thing. Why had I been frightened of Lilith? Because she could read my mind.

As she couldn't any more, and the baby was no secret, there was no need to be afraid.

#### ****

Lilith was with several people I was beginning to know by sight. Her own Court and bodyguards. I didn't know why she'd need bodyguards, the woman was capable of transforming into a formidable dragon. I supposed she might have problems with a group of twenty or so assassins, or someone might get in a lucky point-blank shot with a crossbow.

"Have you sparred yet, Polo?" she said as I walked up. She was early, that was unexpected.

"Not today," I said, "I'm taped up so I don't pull my stitches. Did go riding, but I was let off jogging too. No idea why people like running."

"I've always preferred riding to walking then, as I got older, discovered walking is excellent for keeping fit, whereas riding, though enjoyable, is essentially a passenger sport."

"Aye, Fenric says the same, drags me off jogging. Sorry if I kept you waiting just now," I said, "ma'am." She gave me a disapproving look.

"Gods, Polo, if you don't stop that and start calling me Lilith again, I'll take you down to the pits and wipe the floor with you in front of the entire citadel garrison." I smiled.

"Then they'll make you army commander, and I'm guessing you want the job as much as I do." She smiled. I was doing well, charming the queen.

"Good point," she said, "but you're to call me Lilith."

"Thank you," I said. "Does anyone ever call you Lil, ma'am?" She laughed. "Lili?"

"Oh sod off, Polo," she said, "no, not Lil." She snickered. "Or Lili. You're not to be formal with me."

"Well, it's a formal request I'm making," I said, "Lilith. And thank you for permission to visit Redoubt and access the archives."

"But there's more?" I nodded.

"May we talk privately?" She laughed.

"A private audience with me? Of course, Polo. Come on, walk, we'll have coffee." I didn't ask where we were going, but talked about other subjects. I even asked her opinion on ending the war in the north.

"What aspect of it?"

"Presumably you've overflown Sriama," I said, "I was hoping you might share what you know." She looked thoughtful.

"Fly high, they're bastards with crossbows but their range is limited. Don't let them take you alive." I frowned, but could see she thought those were the important things. How did I get her to tell me what she thought was so self-evident anyone would know? I decided to be simplistic.

"That much I knew. I was thinking more of their cities and technology, who their chief of chiefs is."

"He's an emperor. The new one."

"Really? What happened to the chief?" She mimed having his throat cut.

"Why do you think I decided to marry Azrael?" she said. "Dragon is needed." She grimaced. "I haven't been married before."

"You haven't? Can't be for want of asking." She gave me a look. I had to be alive to every nuance or missed her meanings. So much was conveyed in a gesture, a roll of those beautiful blue-green eyes. That time she laughed aloud. Scornfully.

"More to life than being wed, Polo."

"Aye," I said, "I don't believe in it myself, my parents put me off. But surely you had offers, someone as beautiful as you." I didn't add, or as old as you probably are.

"Apparently men want more than looks," she said, "they'd prefer it if we didn't have brains." They often did. However I had an out.

"You know that's not true of me." That made her smile.

"You know," she said, "I think I do. And I'm thinking you don't mean to be sexist." I winced.

"Sorry, I can see it might look that way, me assuming you wanted marriage. I just meant- actually, I'll stop while you're still giving me rope." She laughed. We'd reached a central area of the citadel and she paused. I looked around.

We were at the foot of the North Watch, a watch tower as the name suggested, but with the citadel's expansion over the centuries, the North Watch ended up in the middle of the building, superseded by other towers, eventually used as accommodation and recently sequestered for Lilith's household.

"Come on up," she said. "Have you ever seen this tower?"

"Once when we were boys," I said, "I hope it's not as dusty."

"It positively shone," she said, "Household excelled themselves. Any dust is us traipsing in from riding. They have a good collection of furniture here, I've been able to furnish without much new having to be ordered." As Lilith and I climbed up, her various staff, friends, and courtiers made themselves scarce on the lower levels.

Like Saraia's tower to the southwest, this one also had a roofed terrace with views of the citadel complex, Peterhaven, and on out into the countryside. The tiled floor was a magnificent inlaid mosaic showing dragons flying. Thanks to the efforts of the gardeners the terraces were all verdant gardens in the sky, and I noticed as many herbs as flowers. Soon they'd have to rely on pots of evergreens and it would be too cold up there without a coat on.

That morning was sunny and fine, warm out of the shade, with just the taste of snow on the southerly breeze letting us know that full winter wasn't far away. We chatted while coffee was brought.

"So," said Lilith, "did you notice any dust?" I laughed.

"It all looks wonderful. The tile is unusual. Was it here before?" She shook her head.

"Sriaman," she said, "it was in the citadel stores, would you believe? Rolled up. Nobody would use it because we're at war with them. It's absolutely priceless, a one of a kind. Used to be down in the gardens about three hundred years ago, in a gazebo floor, then in the stores the last two hundred." A citadel servant I knew arrived, man named Ricker. I greeted him and we took our coffees. Ricker told Lilith a message had arrived about her shoes, they were done at last.

"My wedding shoes," she said to me, "I was going to wear an old pair, as these ones were running late. Thank you," she said to Ricker. "We're not to be disturbed for the next hour."

"Certainly, ma'am," Ricker said, "I'll tell the others." He left, nodding genially to me, and we sipped our coffee, looking out at the view.

"What do you want, Polo?" I turned my head to find her looking at me. For a moment I couldn't remember. Galaia preserve me, she was gorgeous.

"Oh," I said, shocked into speaking exactly what was on my mind, "aye, was wondering if you've any working shuttles. I was hoping to use them to assist the war effort." She thought for a split second, then said,

"At least one is supposed to be working. When you're in Redoubt you can see them. Well, I'll give you some letters. Give me a couple of hours, I'll get them done. Introductions to various people in charge of shuttles, archives, and so on." I didn't understand why she was being so nice.

"You're being terribly co-operative. It's beginning to scare me." She laughed and laughed.

"Ah," she said, catching her breath, "I'm glad you're still as honest with me as you used to be."

"Like I was when you were inside my mind?" She shrugged.

"Did I do more than encourage you?"

"Gods no," I said, sticking with honesty. "I had a crush on you from when I was sixteen." I paused. Did I still have a crush on her? "When you came to my yacht that time, up in the north, what were you doing?"

"What do you think?" she said.

"Flying round Sriama?" She nodded. "Does the army get Dragon intelligence about Sriama?" I said.

"Aye," she said, "but they rarely pay attention, unless it's something close to the border. They really don't care to go more than a day's ride inside the country." I nodded.

"Almost as if they want the war to go on."

"Or they don't trust our data." She stood up and walked to the balustrade. "Look here, Polo." I joined her at the edge of the terrace. "It's a day's ride to the Great Star Lake." She was pointing north. "Sriama's changing," she said, "the new emperor thinks he's appointed by the gods."

"Is he why they think they have to burn Blood and Dragon alive to set our souls free?"

"There's a trick," she said, ignoring my question, "if they bind you with wire." I nodded, thinking I knew what she meant.

"I've already tried transforming into a smaller dragon," I said, "so I know that's possible." She smiled. "And I managed to transform round a crossbow bolt, then transformed back without the bolt inside me." I shuddered. "Though it did require the bolt to be moved away from my body as I changed."

"I hadn't tried that," she said, "you are gifted. I transformed into a snake when the Sriamans caught me." I was gifted? Transforming into a different species was what I called gifted.

"A snake?" I said. "They caught you?" She nodded.

"Caught me from behind. It happens. I landed to have something to eat, had just changed when someone clobbered me. When I woke up it was dark, I was just about to be thrown on the barbecue. They were waiting to torture me but I was unconscious, and they had to go. When they picked me up I could hear them complaining I hadn't woken up." She spoke in Sriaman, " _Stupid, you hit the lizard bitch too hard. We could have had some fun._ " She shrugged. "For some reason they hadn't raped me, perhaps they were afraid."

"Lucky," I said, "I would have thought a woman wouldn't be safe from that, but you transformed into a snake?" She nodded. "How?"

"In theory, we can be anything." She chuckled. "I was a very small snake, they thought I'd vanished. It hurt a lot, and they were right next to me, looking through my clothes. I began striking, taking the pain of the shape-change out on them. They didn't get what was happening and I struck several before one of them saw me and screamed. Those that could, ran."

"Jewel snakes," I said, remembering, "you must have looked like one, they're very poisonous."

"I didn't just look like one," she said, "I was one." She turned to look at me. "The power of the mind, Polo."

"Or of magic," I said, trying not to sink into those blue-green eyes, barely thinking about the possibilities of transmogrification. Instead I smiled and looked out at the view.

"There's still one thing you want to talk about," she said. I looked back at her and smiled.

"Are you sure?" I said. She gave me a serious look.

"I don't just read minds, Polo, I see the future. And I know the past. I began seeing this kind of thing when I was about ten. Back then it scared me. One should remember nothing's set in stone. Any seer only sees a possible future, or a likely one." She smiled. "Ask Jules." That sounded a lot like Cree's explanation of clairvoyance. I was a hair's breadth from putting my arms around her. To distract us both, I asked a pertinent question,

"Will Azrael be successful?" She smiled, shifted a little, and the moment eased, I could breathe again. That was dangerous, the scent of her was heady and I wanted to press my face against her skin and inhale.

"Of course," she said, "that's why I'm here." Why was I here? Oh yes, I remembered. She laughed. "I like to back the winning side."

"Will I be successful?" I said.

"You're already successful." I took the slight evasion as a negative outcome.

"Ah, so I won't win the war?" Maybe I'd die.

"Oh that, yes, Theus will win." Oh, so I did die. Or at least I might. I had turned my head to look at her again.

"Good to know," I said. The other question. "I know we made a child, you and I."

"I thought you'd guessed," she said. "I foresaw it. It's the only way." I nodded.

"I spoke to Azrael. He seems fine. Said you'd hinted as much."

"Aye," she said, "Azrael mentioned it. Does it worry you?" I shrugged.

"Sendren needs an heir. Or at least the Dragon Kingdom does. It's probably for the best, Lilith. I'm not good with children and don't mind being an uncle. Besides, I don't think Azrael can sire a child. He's tried."

"That much I could see," she said. "I don't see everything, thankfully. Life would be so boring." She smiled. "Chance, the changed mind, I do like to think these all have weight in shaping what will be." Bemused by events, I shook my head.

"I've obviously no skills there, in seeing what will be. I was sure you'd be less helpful over the shuttles." She patted my arm.

"I spent a long time trying to avoid shocking this world, Polo. I failed, they still think I'm the daughter of Satan," she said, and frowned. "I don't think there's a corresponding notion in Thet's pantheon. None of the gods are really bad."

"Satan is another name," I said, reciting something I read once, "for the fallen god or angel of some of the old Home religions." She nodded.

"He became like Haka," said Lilith, "god of the Under World. Only they were afraid of the dead and he personified evil, not personal power, and woman was his agent."

"That's like the Kavar religion. Women need punishment for leading men astray." I smiled. "Women giving up trying to put us straight and letting us lead ourselves astray, more like. Men forget."

"Damn," she said, and put her arms around me. The predictable happened. No, I did not run screaming towards the balustrade and hurl myself over it to pre-empt my fall into temptation. I kissed her, so deep I thought I'd drown. "I really must learn," said Lilith, her eyes dreamy, "not to tempt myself."

"There was I, thinking the same," I said and kissed her cheek. "Pair of idiots. And you're old enough to know better." She laughed against me. I sighed and let her go. We both stepped away a little.

"Aye," she said, "so we will do our best to stay away from one another."

"Forever?"

"Don't sound so shocked, Polo. Or so sad." She shrugged. "I don't think Azrael will be long-lived even with the draconium." I didn't like to ask if she could see his death, it didn't seem my business.

"Me?" I found myself asking, and the moment I said it, hoped she didn't answer.

"Depends how truly idiotic you are," she said with a smile. I smiled back, relieved.

"That's pretty much what I thought."

"With that in mind," she said, "off you go." I was barely rational but remembered to thank her again, and headed for the stairs.

"Send someone to collect the paperwork at lunchtime," Lilith called, "I'll make sure it's ready for you."

"Aye," I said, and managed a smile, "hoping to get away tomorrow."

#### ****

Heading downstairs, I was in a strange stew of emotions, the scent of her still in my nostrils, feeling elated, frustrated, and somehow calm enough to know she was right, we needed to avoid that kind of entanglement. Best for me to get away from Peterhaven, because everywhere I went I could smell Lilith.

It seemed I did have some kind of crush on her. I was disappointed with myself. In love with a crazy woman. Again. It wasn't that I didn't fancy others, I just loved Lilith. With her it was deep. At least on my side it was. I didn't kid myself that for her it was anything more than I was pretty enough, and she knew from experience I was a gentleman over orgasms. Plus, she was about to marry a gay man because it was good for the family firm and so he could pretend to be straight.

If I was her, I'd be grabbing as many decent tumbles as I could before I was bored to death. There she was, a good leader for all her faults, an experienced army officer, and I couldn't have her in my army because she was the queen. I grimaced at my own thoughts. Who was I kidding? I could probably have her in the army if I kicked and screamed enough, but I just wanted her and couldn't have her because she was Azrael's. It was something one didn't do. Not without checking it with the king first. For all I knew, he'd be keen on the notion. Maybe Lilith would enjoy sharing? I completely forgot sharing Lilith would mean Azrael would expect to share me.

My step lighter, I tripped back to the Queen's Mews. For the first time, I got the joke. After all, old King Theo had put Azrael's quarters there, on the notion it was close to his mother in the North Tower. Originally it was a queen's own quarters, together with those of her servants, but had been converted to sumptuous suites some years before I was lucky enough to be quartered there.

#### ****

## Chapter 35 – I Offer to Hit the King

It was almost time for morning tea when Azrael turned up, demanding I go schmoozing with him.

"Seeing you're escaping tomorrow, field marshal," he said. I bowed.

"Don't think of it as escaping, sire, think of it as a strategic retreat."

"Did you remember to ask Herself about other planets?" he said. I cursed.

"I was so shocked when she gave permission for me to see the shuttles, I didn't remember. Note that, shuttles. At least one working. But sorry. I'll take a list with me next time, it's like talking to a pretzel." He beamed.

"Told you, she's fond of you." He shook his head. "She's much scarier than I remembered her in the dreams." I laughed.

"She was the size of a house in the dreams," I said, and the king nodded.

"Aye, that was my recollection."

"I distinctly remember her getting annoyed with you," I said, "and me edging away in case she swatted me." He nodded again.

"She was terrifying," he said, "but in person she's more so. I believe if I annoy her enough she'll just bite my throat out. Without changing shape." I laughed again and he joined me.

"I find myself wanting to salute her," I said. "And I was never big on saluting in the army."

"Aye," said Azrael, "very glad about those mental exercises. I was wondering where I was getting the strange notions from."

"But you're resigned to having been turned inside out?" I said. He shrugged. What could a man say? "She did it to me too," I said.

"It's not something I'm comfortable with," said the king. "Still, she knows I didn't lie to her."

"Pretty much my take on it," I said, "lucky for us, eh?" He smiled. "There are other telepaths here, I spent last night's banquet feeling violated." Azrael raised his eyebrows.

"You, violated?" he said. I shrugged.

"Like anyone, sire, consent on both sides is a large part of my pleasure. None of them got in but many of them tried. How did you feel when you realised Lilith was actually reading your mind?" He nodded.

"Aye, I get it." I smiled.

"So," I said, "where are we going, and who would you like me to be today?" He shook his head, smiling back.

"It's just morning tea with some Visitors. The Duke of Colwych expressed a distinct interest in meeting you." I was trapped. Might as well try to engage.

"Colwych," I said, "where's that?"

"Southern Sendren. He's Kelvin Westwych of Colwych, father had a bizarre sense of humour. You know his brother, Keith? The Royal Keeper of the Bees?" I adored Keith. Everyone did. The slightest interest in bees or honey meant one would probably get to taste some of Keith's specials, which didn't sound like fun, but honey, as Keith often said, was much under-rated. His apiary tours were fascinating. The importance of bees to the whole planetary ecosystem was so great that deliberately killing them was a crime throughout the kingdoms and had been since first settlement. If a hive needed moving one had to bring in a beekeeper to do it or face imprisonment. If Keith had his way, people would hang for being stung. I smiled at the memories.

"Oh yes, Keith," I said, "don't know his family. Is the duke an older brother?"

"No, Keith refused the duchy," said Azrael, "on account of the _bees_." We both giggled. Keith always accented the word bees in a particular way, laden with passion, and Azrael had it pat. "So his younger brother Kelvin's the duke."

"Ah," I said, placing the man in the interconnected web of people I knew. That was how it was. One found the connections and asked the questions. Most often it was, "Whose child are you?" We began walking to morning tea.

When I was young, I felt I should apologise to the Blood for being half-peasant, despite my mother being of the rather noble Casterton clan. I also felt the need to apologise to the peasants for being half-Blood, and for having an officer for a father.

Everyone, Blood or peasant, seemed to think I should be penitent for having a drunk for a father. Like the rest of it, I had taken a while to realise Father wasn't my fault. When I found out about Grandmama being Dragon I was long past apologising, taking the view that we were all just people and my family were not my responsibility. The king hadn't said anything for a bit, and I was lost in my own thoughts. He brought me back to the present.

"Have I told you lately I love you?" he said, and though I tried not to react, I did trip over my own feet.

"Sire, please, talk about Alexander if you like, but let's not revisit that." He smiled. He was looking smug. I changed the subject. "Have you tried to transform?" I said.

"No, not yet. Stefan is coaching me. Did I tell you what happened to Indigo?" I frowned. His reactions were off. What if him not being angry over Lilith being pregnant to me was just the draconium messing with his emotions?

"Something happened to Indigo?" I said. "I missed the gossip. When?"

"It's not for sharing, this, but he tried the draconium when I did." I took a breath.

"Is he alright?" Azrael shrugged.

"In a way," he said, "still alive. Stefan's keeping him unconscious for now." Maybe Indigo was brain-damaged. I was struck by the possibly spiteful thought that it might be difficult to tell. I pretended to care.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I know you're close. Something went wrong?" Azrael sighed.

"Aye. He said he felt great and tried to change straightaway. Stefan told us not to. If it happened spontaneously then it happened, but not to force it. You know Stefan in doctor mode," he imitated his real father's tones, "in any circumstances." Azrael bit his lip. "Now Indigo's stuck." I remembered the big dragon I saw at Redoubt.

"Oh dear," I said, "stuck as a dragon?"

"As half a one." I was pretty sure if it was the lower half that would be perfect for Azrael's fantasies, but tried not to laugh and kept my concerned face on.

"Gods," I said. "Which half?"

"His left side is scaled," said Azrael, gesturing, "his right side is human. He was hysterical so Stefan sedated him." I wondered what had happened to Indigo's cock and balls. That didn't bear thinking about and I wasn't going to ask.

"Galaia preserve us," I said, "you be careful. Don't you dare try transforming." He smiled.

"I won't. Are you sure you don't want to have sex with me?" I frowned at him.

"Sire. Please. Or I will hit you." He laughed. "I mean it, Azrael. It's harassment. I last had sex with you five years ago. We're neither of us drunk or having a breakdown so you have no excuses. And you know I don't care if you are the king, I'll still thump you if you won't take no for an answer." From my list of _Things To Ask the King_ I mentally crossed off ' _Ask if I could have a quiet affair with Lilith_ '.

"Sorry," Azrael said, "I think it's the draconium. I feel drunk." I breathed out, having been prepared to hit him but also prepared for the bodyguards with us to take it badly.

"Maybe you should take a day off?" I said. "Just to let the draconium settle?" As I said it, I knew it wasn't possible. "What am I saying? Sorry." He waved a hand.

"Aye," he said, "you're right, but obviously I have commitments. However, I'll try not to commit to anything extra. I can't take time off, not practically speaking. Wedding's got to go on."

#### ****

The morning tea was so boring I found myself contemplating turning into a dragon and killing as many people as I could, just to make it stop. Yes I'd be outlaw, but I'd be free of the incessant prattle. Azrael wasn't feeling his Dragon blood as much as he thought he was. When I suggested murdering most of those present he only laughed at me and said I wasn't to kill any of the Hangers On.

Court wasn't agreeing with me. The sex, food, and old friends were fine, but I kept seeing Lilith around. As Fenric commented, when a man doesn't care that she's maybe three thousand years older than him or that she's about to get married to his best friend the king, he's got it bad.

A serious powerbroker in my own right as Duke of Starshore, as commander of the army I was now so powerful that if the king hadn't trusted me implicitly I'd expect his security people to advise my assassination.

The Hangers On still drove me insane, and now there were more people after favours I could do for them, which led to even more people trying to talk to me or have sex with me or do me favours, all in the hope I'd favour them or speak to the king on their behalf.

As I said, it wasn't all bad, though being a sex object wasn't my idea of fun. It meant I had to break down people's preconceptions before I could have sex with them. I spent the first part of tea wondering how to circumvent that, perhaps a short booklet entitled _Polo_ _Shawcross: Not as Promiscuous as You Think_.

To make the morning perfect, we ran into Mother, still gadding about in Peterhaven. In ominous tones she told me that Father had returned to the capital for Azrael's wedding and was getting Very Drunk. She scowled when Father, tipsy, turned up at her elbow. He congratulated me and claimed his drinking was from having to watch Mother dating men young enough to be her son. I sighed, and promptly drafted Father. Mother's mouth fell open in shock.

"You what?" said Father, undergoing a rapid sobering up. Before lunch he could usually sober up. After, he'd need a nap first. "Polo," he said, "are you joking?" I shook my head.

"Not sure if you've heard, but I'm the army commander."

"Of course I've heard, Polo," he said, sounding snappy. "I just congratulated you." As one of the servants came past with coffee, Father caught his eye and grabbed one. I smiled.

"So I can do whatever I like, in many ways. Right now, the country needs you, Evan Shawcross. Let's make you your old rank for now. Captain Shawcross. Higher wages because you're my advisor, part of my staff. However, if you are drunk on duty or even if you drink before going on duty, you will be put in the stockade. This is my direct order, disobey it at your own cost." I looked at both of them. "Anything else?"

"You can't do this to me," said Father, sounding sure of himself. Mother's mouth was still open. It was the longest Mother had ever been dumbstruck in my presence. Despite himself, Father kept looking at her, smiling, and looking at me. I ignored them both for the rest of the tea.

#### ****

Father followed me back to my suite, Mother with him.

"You can't do this to him, darling," said Mother.

"I can," I said.

"Damn it, Polo," said Father, "you can't."

"I bloody can, Father, or I can post you to, say, the middle of the Great Star Lake in a leaky dinghy and leave you there. Whatever I choose. You're not staying in Sendren and making an idiot of yourself. Or killing yourself with drink. Your bad behaviour reflects on me and the king who appointed me."

"What about your mother?" said Father, sounding plaintive.

"What about your bloody wife?" I said, snapping as I often did with my parents. "She's quite capable of looking after herself, she can milk a cow, cook, and grow her own food!" Father spluttered but I wasn't finished. "You're the one who hasn't behaved like an adult since you left the army! It's been nearly twenty damn years!" I shouted. "You're always whining about how she stopped your career. Now's your chance to prove you're a good soldier." I went on in a similar fashion for five minutes. I didn't mention that he wasn't the only person in the room acting like a child because he thought he'd lost his youth to a partner and a baby, nor did I say that as the now-grown baby they were each blaming for ruining their lives, I'd appreciate it if they both backed off.

Such a good son, not rubbing their noses in it.

By the end of the argument, Father was joking with Fenric and Ross about being drafted. I was exhausted and wondering why in the name of Thet and all the gods I'd decided to rescue my father from himself. That was Mother's job. She was rather smug.

"Well, Evan," Mother said, practical as ever, "you brought this on yourself. You're the one who wanted him to go the Military Guild. I wanted him to be a farmer." She smiled and kissed me on the cheek. "Try not to kill him, dear."

"I'll keep him off the front line," I said through clenched teeth.

#### ****

A servant was sent to collect my letters from Lilith - it seemed safer - then I spent the rest of the day writing letters, or issuing orders, really, before Archie arrived from Starshore bearing a sheaf of reports.

Archie was depressed over his marriage break-up and asked to be put back on active duty, so I decided to take just him and Fenric for my trip to Redoubt, as Ross was having a rather torrid affair with a woman he'd just met. I let them pick two teams of bodyguards for me. I needed a rest before I went back to war, and the two-week river journey would be my holiday.

#### ****

## Chapter 36 - Old Friends and New

It was the second time I had travelled along the Little Dragon to Redoubt, and that time I made it all the way to the capital, Castlemeadow.

Long before then, the riverboat began climbing via great locks, first onto the plateau of Highcliff then up into the Southern Mountains. I didn't notice much of it, spending the first few days sleeping before having my stitches out, then I hired two floozies to come with me for part of the way. I also hired half a dozen others for the rest of the men. Naturally, I paid generously, including their fares both ways. Fenric told me it was a popular treat for the men, and that Archie was the only one who didn't even get his cock sucked.

It made me think I'd never been in love, even with Lilith, because I nearly always wanted sex. The two lasses kept me busy until we were well into the high country, then we regretfully waved our floozies goodbye and I got down to the business of running an army from a distance. Even onboard, Dragon messengers sought me out with messages from Azrael or the army chiefs. Men were already dying under my command. It made it hard to relax.

#### ****

As we arrived at Castlemeadow, capital of Redoubt, the morning was cold and raining.

"It looks how I feel," announced Archie. We all ignored him. The grey river was channelled into a wide shallow pool that allowed the current to slow. Both banks were lined with wharves, behind those were pretty houses, and the whole was framed by towering mountains just visible in the rain. Despite the miserable weather, the port was busy and very picturesque. Archie sighed. "Look, Polo," he said, "the clouds are the same colour as Belinda's eyes."

"Aye," I said, trying not to encourage his maudlin behaviour, "bit like Fenric's too." The closest peak cloaked Castlemeadow, the Dragon fortress I had visited by air. Pennants hung from balconies and gates, showing onlookers where the castle was. If the pennants were down it was almost impossible to see the castle from ground or air. I rather liked that idea, an invisible citadel. I wondered if back in Sendren they were originally trying to make the Green Dragon Citadel look like a forest from above and below. It seemed likely that people only a generation or two back from Home would have understood flight and even used it until their ability to keep servicing or fuelling airborne Home artefacts was subsumed in their efforts to stay alive, after Home stopped bringing supplies and people, beginning the Great Silence.

Previously I arrived over the mountain, and then left this side through one of the pedestrian gates, before going downriver on my way to the aftermath of Azrael's first wedding and his coronation as King of Highcliff. I didn't remember how many months ago it had been. The others told me that the Highcliff brouhaha was back in March, and it was now nearly the end of May. Almost winter. The army, nearly five months in my past, seemed a world away.

It didn't happen often in the kingdoms, but at the dock we were put through customs.

"Aren't all people allowed to cross any border in the kingdoms?" I said.

"Aye, sir, without restraint," said the customs officer, "you're not being restrained, merely checked a moment in your journey. Unless we find you a wanted person, you're free to enter." That seemed fair enough, so we showed our papers and Lilith's letters and were told we had the run of Redoubt. "Just show those letters, sirs," the customs officer said, "once housekeeping has you settled at the fortress, engineering will be along."

"Right," I said, "thank you." We walked out of the dock area, and I was going to find a cab, but one arrived.

"Customs said to come find you, sirs," the man said, "give you a lift upstairs."

"Upstairs?" said Archie.

"To the castle, sirs."

#### ****

I hadn't looked round much during previous trips to Redoubt, and during my trips to Castlemeadow I'd been pretty much blind to anything except Lilith. I had no idea how to get to the castle from the river, but the cab driver headed uphill to a road that didn't look like much. It appeared to lead up over a low shoulder of the mountain. It was signposted, _To West Alpine Pasture_. As the road climbed above the town it led past an overhang and into a dip. Our cab turned suddenly into an unsigned cleft in the rock wall beside us, onto a new road inside the mountain. For a moment we were in a passageway, rock walls towering over us as the horses' hooves clattered and echoed back, then suddenly we entered a large cave.

Around us the cavern seemed to expand for miles. It still didn't look like anything other than a natural if massive geological formation. We followed a barely discernible road round a pillar and the surface became bioplas, less noisy, rising in a screened switchback around another pillar and up. The horses slowed to a steady walk, leaning into the traces, then reached flat ground and sped up again. A few minutes on we stopped, and we passengers were set down in a rather comfortable waiting area where servants fought over our luggage. The cab driver thanked us but wouldn't take our coin.

"Guests of Herself," he said, "your coin's no good in Redoubt, sirs." We thanked him as a leggy black-haired woman in boots and what looked like army fatigues stomped up. She was wearing sunglasses even though we were inside, her hair cropped short and streaked with white. Like the three of us, her arms and face had a fair number of scars, some fine white lines, some red, and some puckered and not so fine. She seemed to already know who we were, but didn't introduce herself and ignored Archie asking her name. She muttered about nobody else apparently being prepared to wait on breakfast.

The woman was quite stunning, even scowling, but so was the architecture. Fenric and I hung back a little, looking at the artwork on the walls, ceiling, and floors. Also their defences. Many of the doorways we passed through could be closed and barred behind us in case anyone tried to get in from this side. It was all new to me, whereas to Fenric it was either bringing on nostalgia or he was noting that this bit or that had been changed.

Archie, newly-single and more raw than me at thirteen, was chatting to the woman, who was giving terse responses to everything he asked. She ignored him when he asked her name again, and finally he asked if she was married.

"If you want women," she said, stopping and looking him up and down as if he was vermin, "I'm sure there are plenty of floozies down in the port." Fenric and I stopped looking at the art and engineering, and began paying attention.

"Ouch," said Archie, clutching his heart in a melodramatic fashion, "what makes you think I want a floozy? Did I offer you coin? I was just asking. Being friendly. Seeing you're being nice and showing us where to go." I nearly winced visibly, and Fenric did. Archie was being cheesy by anyone's standards. And it opened him up to the logical retort.

"Was up to me," the woman said, "I'd be telling you all where to go. Now keep it in your pants." She jerked her head at me. "I thought Shawcross was the manwhore." This last shut all of us up completely. A few steps on, she brusquely said this was our suite and someone would be along to show us to engineering, then she stomped off down the corridor.

"I get the feeling," said Archie, "I caught her on a very bad day." Fenric nodded.

"I think Legs is one of their military. Put her in armour, who'd know a woman was inside?" I thought I might suspect because - despite her stomping - the black-haired woman was too shapely to be any of the troopers I'd served with, but I was still stuck on what she'd said about me.

"Manwhore?" I said. "It that the latest epithet they're calling me? Manwhore? Really?"

"Man plus whore," said Archie.

"I get what it means," I said. "But manwhore?" I watched the swing of the woman's hips.

"Well," said Fenric, watching her go too, "there's someone not impressed by the famous Polo Shawcross."

"Gods," said Archie in an admiring tone, "manwhore."

"Yes," I said, sounding a bit plaintive, "what was that about a manwhore?"

"Legs thinks you are one," Fenric said.

"Aye, I got that, but manwhore? I'm not a whore. I don't do it for coin, and I don't do just anyone."

"Don't tell us," said Fenric, "tell Legs. If you're brave enough."

"I'll wait until I'm wearing armour," I said, "and then maybe do it from a distance."

"Aye," said Archie, "you'd better. I feel scorched."

#### ****

Our suite had four bedrooms with a sitting room and a bathroom, so one bed was spare. One side of the sitting room was bookshelves, and I headed there while Fenric and Archie explored the rest. To my horror, I hadn't read most of the texts, and there were over a hundred just in that one room. That didn't happen to me much. For a moment I panicked, then remembered I had friends in high places.

"I'll tell Azrael," I said aloud, "Aunt Clare can arrange copies." I wanted to read now, but there was a knock at the door. "Aye," I called, "come in." I was turning from the bookcase and the person said,

"Morning Polo!" I knew who it was even before I finished turning round. The last time I saw him he was a Whatsit at the Green Dragon Citadel, the Royal Keeper of the Plumbing, my old friend Rory Keller.

"Rory? What an unexpected pleasure." We hugged and said hello.

"Galaia preserve me, Polo," he said, "you're bigger than you used to be." I laughed.

"I was sixteen when we met. I think last time I saw you was at my ducal investiture?" He nodded. "Stands to reason I'd be bigger, last time you saw me was just after I turned eighteen. I'm twenty-two in September. Just finished three years in the army. Back in it now, thanks to Azrael."

"I heard, I heard. Congratulations, I think?" I smiled. I couldn't help noticing, Rory still looked exactly the same, brown hair too long, and brown cat's-eyes, the brown shining with specks of copper glitter. Same lazy smile. He hadn't aged at all.

"It's good to see you," I said. "You haven't changed a bit. Is that what you have to do, keep moving in case people notice?" He nodded.

"Humans are touchy about people who don't age," he said and looked at me.

"Don't look at me like that," I said, "I'm aging." He smiled. It really was good to see him again. He was one of the people who made my mid to late teens such an adventure.

"From what I've heard," Rory said, "you're likely to stop."

"From what you've heard?" I said. He smiled.

"You can shape-change. You can fly, or not. Your telepathic skills are talked about. One gift often means another and you're gifted."

"Oh, that," I said, and he laughed. "Well," I said, "I thought there was maybe something else. Can you shape-change?"

"Aye, and I have a gift for machinery. Not sure if that's a Dragon trait."

"Me neither. I'm good with horses. Not sure that's more than just training and good sense. And I have little enough of that last. Anyway, I was sorry you left. Someone said there was a new Royal Keeper, but they weren't sure where you'd gone, and next thing I was in the army. Did you have to go because you weren't aging?"

"Aye," he said, "it was time to leave Peterhaven, but I did some good work getting the hydroelectric turbines back working, all of them. And did you notice it's warmer in the citadel?" I nodded.

"Aye, come to think of it, I did. Thought I was acclimatising. My fireplaces weren't lit but my suite was warm enough. I'm just down from the north, so the whole of Theus feels cold to me."

"Ah, well once you acclimatise again you might notice the underfloor heating is working again in all three buildings at Peterhaven, first time in a few hundred years."

"Really?" I said. "Good on you, it used to be very cold inside. You know I'm on a mission from the new Dragon King and Queen?" He laughed.

"Aye, Azrael's done it, hard to believe. Braver than me, marrying Herself. And you're a field marshal?" I shook my head.

"Something like that. I have to outrank the various generals about the place. Oh, we met a woman on our way in, tall, black hair, sunglasses. Wondering who she is?"

"I've decided her name is Legs," said Fenric, coming in from his bedroom. "She's very bad-tempered." He grinned. "Hello Rory." They clasped hands and then embraced.

"Good to see you, Fenric. Bad-tempered, that would be Natasha. Natasha's one of the long-lived ones. Been out of Pangea for most of Polo's life. She's cranky about being called back. Says people she doesn't want to see are still alive here. But she owes Herself a favour."

"Natasha's a soldier?" I said. Rory smiled.

"Aye, once out of Pangea, we don't stick to the usual roles. After all, the tribe is a mercenary one, it's how we earn our living. Dragon never wanted an empire, we were happy to serve. I always think that anyone who sells their labour is a mercenary. Like those who sell loyalties and bodies. And yes, I heard what Azrael did to the Kavar for being mercenaries." He shrugged. "It's just politics."

"Politics?" said Fenric. "He hung hundreds of men." Rory nodded.

"Of course he did. Why else do men kill men? Politics, love, or money." He looked thoughtful. "Or maybe more than one, or because they're mad-and-dangerous."

"Rory?" said Archie, coming out of the bedroom area. "Gods, what are you doing here?" Rory took a bow.

"I'm the Chief Engineering Officer. Are you hungry? I was on my way to breakfast when they told me you were here."

"We're waiting on a guide," said Fenric.

"Aye," said Rory, "that's me, come on." We all headed out.

"So do you have shuttles?" I said. "Ones that work?"

"How many do you need?" Rory grinned. "If I don't have enough, I can make you more." I nearly fainted.

"You have more than one?" I said, my voice a squeak.

"Aye, we have one working and another one not far from airworthy. Plus a fleet of about five grounded, in for major overhauls or repairs. Some offshore too. But I can make more, as I said. About two years unless I get more people." I wanted to go see the shuttles then and second whoever or whatever Rory needed, but the older men dragged me off to breakfast. I found it hard to eat but forced myself, trying to relax. Then the others wanted to stop for a smoke and more coffee while they all chatted. I twitched and chain-smoked, dreaming crazy dreams about the future.

The _Delta Queen_ and the rest of the universe was a short shuttle ride away. And I had a working shuttle at my disposal. Being a field marshal came with perks. This was beyond mine or Azrael's wildest notions. We thought the new kingdom might be able to build shuttles if we were lucky, cobbling them together from old plans and repaired old parts. If we had to start from scratch it might take us a generation longer. Who knew if we could maintain the impetus for that long?

The notion hadn't crossed our minds that there was an engineering department capable of turning out working shuttles just a short trip southwest in Redoubt. Lilith's bewilderment at our interest in rebuilding the wreckage of old shuttles now made sense. Dragon weren't interested in repairing decayed Yusaf technology because they could make more. Not for the first time, I sighed over how hard immortals were to communicate with. They always assumed you knew what they did. Or that you knew nothing at all and shouldn't be told.

"Why didn't you tell me about this," I said to Rory, "when I was bending your ear about space travel and Dragon, back in Peterhaven?" He thought about the question.

"I told you quite a lot," he said.

"You did, and you encouraged me to read, told me stories, I remember. But you did not tell me about this." He smiled.

"No. But we decided to tell you, so now I can." I resisted the urge to bang my head slowly on the table. I remembered my father doing that when Mother drove him to distraction. Was that what it was like for peasants talking to Blood, the way it was for Blood talking to Dragon?

All the Dragon I asked, "-but why did you hide the shuttles and the starship?" had no real answer. Other than,

"We decided to. People here weren't ready for starships and the like. When we arrived, most of Galaia's peoples had forgotten they came from the stars. The Great Silence had lasted nearly two thousand years and the natives thought humanity was born on Galaia."

"Why are you telling us now?" I asked. More than once. And they'd shrug, saying,

"We decided you were ready. Theus is ready."

"Why do you think we're ready now?" They would shrug again.

"It was a decision."

#### ****

As Dragon wasn't a monarchy, I presumed the decision was some kind of vote that meant, the moment Azrael united the kingdoms, and he and I reached for the stars, that was it. We were allowed the means. Either that, or after a thousand years Dragon suddenly decided on a whim to give up their secrets.

Personally, I suspected Lilith was rolling dice over a series of interesting options, and ' _Tell them about the shuttles, but only if someone asks_ ,' came up.

Since Azrael was born, the Dragon Stefan, in his assumed role as Nanny Black, had fanned Azrael's interest in Dragon's interstellar travels and the other worlds. Also, the thought occurred, Stefan wasn't the only member of the tribe manipulating the world and indoctrinating the children.

Stefan and my grandmother were good friends. Grandmama Daeva told me stories about Dragon, encouraging my interests. Grandmama was the one who made sure I went to Peterhaven to be Azrael's companion. Grandmama being Dragon was something I didn't know as a child, as people tended not to talk about Dragon blood then, and Mother was, at the time, very against me knowing my full heritage. The world seemed to have changed so much since I was a boy. It hadn't been that long ago, surely? Fenric had his own ideas about why Dragon suddenly owned up to the shuttles, which he told us later.

"It's all been planned," he said. "Since Dragon got here."

"Crazy," said Archie, "even immortals don't think that far ahead." I also rubbished Fenric's notion.

All the immortals I knew were just people, no master plan in sight, reacting just like the short-lived, to foolish emotional spurs.

#### ****

## Chapter 37 - Birds

The places we didn't have access to before included hidden libraries, archives, and an engineering department. These all had computers, which in itself was so wondrous I could barely cope. It seemed the height of decadent Yusaf living to ask a question, get an answer or more than one possible answer almost instantly, to be able to see the basis for any answer, and not have to go research the truth in a hundred books in a library, possibly in twenty different kingdoms.

The engineering department could only be accessed via a special wave of the hand which unlocked the door. At least that was what it looked like, but Rory said there was a chip of special sand in the back of his hand that the door could see. It seemed a bit far-fetched, but the door opened. It was marked white, as if a servant way, but without the chip was locked. The door led into what looked like an ordinary sitting room. The door in had to be shut, then on the other side was a completely hidden door in the panelling. Another wave, the door slid back, much larger than I expected, and we stepped into a hallway, then into a space so big it echoed.

"We don't want anyone finding it by mistake," said Rory. "This is Hangar One and some of our birds. You happened to catch us during a downtime. All these are in for a full engine replacement." There were shuttles and pieces of them everywhere. Some shuttles were plain colours, others camouflage. The one closest to us was in snow country camo, others in all kinds from woodland, alpine, or desert pale to jungle dark. The shuttles were bigger than I expected, so large I couldn't take in their size, a bit like the size of the hangar, which also tricked the eye. The place was so huge people on the other side of it looked like ants. Rory added that the hangar was one of five.

"Haka's tits," I said, and then just stood there with my mouth open. I really could win the war. With Dragon and shuttles, how could we lose? Any idiot could win it.

"Gods," said Archie in a croaky voice.

"Aye," said Fenric.

"With these," Rory said, spreading his arms wide, "you can move troops and cargo in an hour instead of days."

"Aye," I said, "I can see the use of them. They're perfect." I looked around. "These have been in use on Galaia?"

"Aye," said Rory, "no jets over Pangea, and no flights except at night, rules are very strict. This is the only airbase. Anti-grav is silent or near enough, and the initial propulsion is electric so taking off can be quiet until we reach altitude. We don't let foreigners see how we get there, we're careful about that." I wasn't sure what all of that meant but I got the gist. I touched the shell of the nearest.

"Is that bioplas?" I said, and Rory nodded.

"It's got a bioplas skin," he said, "that's the camouflage. Underneath is a hodgepodge of metals, ceramics, more bioplas, and of course the fittings for the people. I'm to teach you to fly a bird."

"Gods," said Archie. To my delight, the shuttles also had computers in them, but from what I understood they weren't able to answer questions while busy flying the birds, as Rory called the shuttles. Flying birds wasn't hard. Shuttles were designed to do most things by themselves. They'd stop you if you tried to go too fast, and couldn't crash, providing you didn't shut the computer. The propulsion was a combination.

"She's like a gravsled, and you can manoeuvre with these electric fans, but when you want to go fast, she's equipped with a jet engine," said Rory. We looked blankly at him.

I vaguely remembered reading about a _gravsled_ , but had thought it was like a dogsled and ' _grav'_ was Old Anglic slang for an animal bigger than a dog, perhaps some kind of caribou. Not for the first time, I wondered how much of our interpretation of Old Anglic was even close to right.

Jet engine was something I thought I understood, simply that it was a kind of powerful motor. "She's got very good navcom," said Rory, "you'll find her fun to fly." We nodded, looking impressed. Suddenly he laughed. "You don't know what I'm talking about, do you?" We shook our heads no. He shook his head too. "I told Lilith, you can't expect the young to grasp spaceflight without teaching them about in-atmosphere flight and even then, without decent physics the stardrive is going to be a mystery." There was a silence, which I filled with,

"I'm afraid it is to me." The others were looking quizzical.

"Aye," said Fenric, "sorry, no idea what you're talking about. This is a lot to take in." He frowned. "I lived here for a year, how did I not know about all this?" He looked over his shoulder at the secret way in.

"It wasn't time," said Rory, looking apologetic.

"A working shuttle," said Archie, shaking his head. "You remember, Polo, when you thought there might be one we could repair?" I nodded. Just one brought the kind of freedom I dreamed of. A fleet of them, and Dragon fighting on our side? Sriama was going to be crushed.

"I'm in shock," I said. "I think you were right, Rory, we needed to be kept informed. Trying to hide the _Delta Queen_ was understandable, but detrimental in the long run."

"Would you like to come for a spin?" he said.

"A spin?" I said. A 'spin' sounded like something to avoid.

"A ride," he said, "come on, I'll teach you how to fly. This will be the first jet-powered daylight flight here in hundreds of years."

#### ****

Anti-grav was a shock. The shuttle went up into the air, Rory telling us that above us the hinged roof opened automatically into a channel in the mountain. Simply by engaging anti-grav and electric propellers on the outside of the shuttle, we slid up the channel and into the sky with no real sensation of doing so. Rory explained how to swallow and clear our ears, which I did and my ears popped. I glanced out the window to discover we were higher above the World than I'd ever been. Rory started the jets, grinning as he did so.

"Outside the atmosphere the jets are used to manoeuvre." The roaring hammered through me to the core. "Come on, gorgeous," Rory said, "let's show them what you can do. Everyone strapped in?" We were. Even so, it was as terrifying as flight with wings, with less g-force thanks to inertial something-or-others that Rory said worked to stop us being affected by the amazing speed and manoeuvrability. There were other advantages over self-powered flight, like being undercover, safely strapped into a seat, no real physical effort, and able to fly in all weather and light conditions, but hitting anything at the speed we were doing was obviously terminal.

To my surprise, I grasped the principles well, as did Fenric. I had some idea of flight whereas he treated it like a horse, but Archie hated flying. At first he clutched his seat and refused to touch the controls. He wasn't the only one spooked. When Rory took us up to what he called 'cruising altitude' at something called mach speed, and we flashed out of Redoubt and into the next two kingdoms in barely a minute, I was as terrified as I'd been in my life up until then.

"Mach 1," Rory said proudly, "a mile every five seconds. Thereabouts. Stabilisers are working hard, it's breezy out today. Wouldn't normally go to mach speed over land, because of the noise behind us as we break the sound barrier, but this is a special occasion." He took us in a circle then arrowed back to Redoubt.

The jets screamed as he wound it out and we went over our own trail to hear the sonic boom. I wouldn't have known what the noise was, too busy holding on and praying to Quain, god of the air, but Rory explained.

The ground, even with computers, seemed mundane after our flight. I wanted to take the shuttle straight up to Peterhaven to show Azrael but the others persuaded me to stay and do the research we'd planned. We could get back and then to the front fast, so instead I sent glowing reports to Azrael, and focused on learning to be the commander of the Dragon Army. Dragon fliers began doing non-shuttle reconnaissance flights on my orders.

Seeing I was in the army again, I felt I should maintain standards. Every morning I trained hard, as hard as I expected everyone else to, which was actually as hard as Fenric made me, no matter what my biographers wrote. Jogging was still something I only did under duress, usually the threat of an extra hour in the pits or a fast run up a hill to breakfast. Breakfast was always up a hill. It was uncanny, but that was the army for you. Even being in command, some things didn't change.

I was in the strange situation of being a royal appointee in remote charge of battalions of men engaged in fighting a war, after having fought in the same war as an enlisted man. Because a rapid change might have repercussions I hadn't considered, I had to wait before tearing army reg's to pieces. I also waited for Dragon's reconnaissance flights to bring me back the first up-to-date maps of Sriama in about five hundred years.

Had they cut down all the trees? That was known to cause avalanches and landslips. In recent times - at least recent by kingdom standards, within the last thousand years - the north of Sriama had no rule of Law for a while. Whole forests disappeared for firewood and houses, next thing mountains fell into valleys and there was flooding down to the sea, where the washed-away earth stained the ocean for a hundred miles. We'd heard the new emperor there was putting his people to work planting trees when they weren't fighting on the borders.

Were there signs of mine workings in what had been kingdom territory, or had they abandoned the mines left behind? Had they built towns? Were their towns in the north the same size or larger? Had they colonised the Theusian land and farms or just left the country to run wild? Were the Sriamans, as I suspected, getting ready for a push down to the Great Star Lake?

It was nearing winter, and in the south snow was falling. In the far north, near the front, everyone would be wandering about in their woollens saying how cold it was, while newcomers would be in shirtsleeves, exclaiming at the warmth.

#### ****

## Chapter 38 – A Visit From Family

After we had been a week in Castlemeadow, cousin Miri turned up. First we knew of it was when she walked up to us in one of the balcony smoking areas, arm-in-arm with Natasha, the cranky one.

Natasha was smiling, head bent down to talk to Miri, her shades up, which was shocking in itself. As the women reached us, she flicked them back down. I caught a glimpse of striking cat's eyes with some gold, then her eyes were covered and she was poker-faced again.

"Here they are, Miri," said Natasha, "I'll leave you to it. Reckon you can deal with three of them." I was expecting Miri to be angry with me after our most recent meeting, when technically I abandoned her in a hotel up in Blackrock. In my defence, she'd been the most awful travelling companion and nearly got me hung.

Miri didn't shout at me, just threw her arms around my neck and kissed me hello. With tongue. I had to admit, I still liked the feel of her. The frisson of danger in giving in to her was possibly part of the appeal.

"Miri," I said, when she let me go, as Fenric grimaced and shook his head, "how lovely to see you. You remember Fenric, and do you know Archie?" The others pretended to be at least not horrified at her appearance, and Miri was charming. She was fun when she wasn't on the run for murder or avoiding me in case we fell in love and – because we were cousins - had a baby with flippers.

Eventually she asked to talk to me privately and the others volunteered to go on with our library study on the computers. Miri and I stayed on the balcony. It wasn't private, anyone might walk out, but for now we were alone.

"So," I said, "great kiss by the way. Am I right, you want something from me?" She pulled a face.

"Damn, am I that obvious?" I shrugged. She sighed. "Daddy says he can always tell."

"If you kiss him like that," I said, "I'm not surprised." She gave me a look. "But anyway," I added hastily, "what do you need?"

"Actually," she said in a cheerful tone, "it's what you need." I managed not to recoil in fear but it was a near thing. Had she finally checked our genealogy and decided I was a fit mate despite being a cousin on several lines? As a teenager I was crazy about her but wasn't at all sure I still wanted her as a mate. I frantically racked my brains for excuses as to why I couldn't commit to a woman right now.

"What I need?" I said weakly. She said,

"You need me. I want to join the army." I nearly laughed with relief.

"Not a problem," I said, feeling light-headed, "Fenric and I mentioned you as a woman we'd like in our army."

"You did?" She frowned and I smiled.

"Aye, so how could we use you? What's your training? I told Fenric you'd be good in the scouts. You wouldn't mind wet work. I'd like to get more women into the army. We have some incoming from Dragon's troops, Natasha's one of them." She smiled.

"You know, Polo, I wasn't sure, but perhaps you do understand me after all. That's exactly what I want to be, a scout. I'm an accomplished horsewoman, good with short sword and knife fighting, and I can learn to track. You did." I frowned.

"When you say sword and knife fighting, you've actually had training?" She nodded, looking earnest.

"Some of Uncle Theo's guards taught me." She rolled her beautiful Westwych blue eyes, dark blue with a shower of diamond sparks. "Well, Daddy banned them from sparring with me so I had sex with several of them, and then blackmailed them into teaching me at least self-defence." That sounded like the Miri I knew. "So I'm reasonable at armed and unarmed combat."

"Come on then," I said, "show me." I gestured off the balcony to the inner part of the complex. "We can go have a spar."

"Now?" said Miri. "I've just got off a boat."

"The Sriamans won't wait until you've done your hair," I said, proud of the quip. Nearly my famous last words.

She went for me right then, without waiting for the safety of the sprung wood walls and deep sand floors of a sparring pit. Instead we were surrounded by stone or sky, because there was a hundred-foot drop just over the balustrade. I only just stopped her from sending me that way, and it involved a certain amount of force, including incapacitating her with a forearm across her diaphragm.

She couldn't breathe so I had to talk her through the moment where one thinks one's going to die. I was soothing and encouraging then, once she could breathe, I had to apologise and share my smoke. I explained that spars were in a pit, please, we always wore armour and for the love of Zol, nothing above the neck unless you were fighting a Sriaman. While we smoked, I told her about my first day on duty, when I was a cavalryman stuck in a fort in such rough country that horses couldn't be used. Instead they used me as a human target, marching me up and down the top of a wall. Inside armour I couldn't be hurt, but by targeting me the Sriamans showed themselves to our bows.

"That seems a bit crazy," she said, blowing out smoke. I laughed.

"That's the army," I said, "get used to crazy." She offered me my pipe back.

"Maybe I don't want to join the scouts," she said, frowning. "I could join your staff instead." I took the pipe but frowned too. Fenric would be against it. For me, providing I didn't fall in love with her again, it might be alright. Miri wasn't afraid of me and I knew when she was lying, so maybe I could use her.

"I've always liked your mind," I said. She tried to hit me again, this time in the groin. I barely blocked the punch and put her in an arm-lock for my own safety.

"What was that for?" I said, wondering if she really was mad-and-dangerous, like Fenric always said. Come to think of it, like I always said too. "I meant it," I said, "I like your mind!" She snarled at me.

"That's for leaving me in that hotel!" she said, her tone angry. "I just remembered you left me to get home alone!" I nearly lost my hold on her.

"Stop struggling," I said, "you'll hurt your shoulder! I was hurrying to see if Young Perry had taken over Sendren, idiot! Remember? He thought I was out of the way and I thought he was making his move. Little bastard nearly killed me anyway." She stopped struggling.

"Oh." I let the hold relax.

"And I didn't leave you helpless," I said, "as I recall, you had plenty of coin and were in a good hotel. Besides you weren't talking to me." I let go and she straightened up, rubbing her shoulder. "I made you miss breakfast, remember?"

"It was dinner, and I was in a suitcase!" she said, outrage colouring her words. "Nearly murdered!" Before I could remind Miri that she was hiding in the suitcase, not locked in, and I had protected her while she was on the run for actually murdering several people, which nearly had me hung as her accomplice, someone clobbered me from behind.

#### ****

I came to with Natasha and Miri leaning over me.

"There," said Natasha, "told you I didn't hit him that hard." I blinked and wondered about life. Natasha had beautiful eyes. Topaz opalescent. Fiery golden opals, and real cat's eyes, the pupil a vertical slit. Like Virginia's. Poor Virginia. I sighed. My head started to hurt.

"He's bleeding a lot," said Miri anxiously. "He's going to change his mind about giving me a job."

"If you don't stop the bleeding," I said, feeling philosophical, "aye, I'm going to reconsider." I was beginning to feel how much my head hurt. "Am I really bleeding a lot?"

"It's nothing," said Natasha, but she was pulling out a handkerchief. She held it against my head and helped me sit up. Miri said she was sorry.

"About what?" I said. "Did you hit me too? Again?"

"He's taking it well," said Natasha, "you're right, he's bleeding a lot. I am sorry, Polo."

"Miri's usually the one who leaves me bleeding," I said in a pointed tone. "What did you hit me with?" Natasha held up a heavy knife.

"The hilt of this," she said, "sorry, thought you were attacking Miri. Not your fault. She brings out the worst in people." Miri made an outraged noise and Natasha laughed at her. "What? You do. Come on, let's get Polo to the doc."

"If I can just get some food," I said, "I can heal it myself." She shook her head.

"We're not in a battle situation. Shape-changing is risky with head wounds, didn't anyone tell you?" They hadn't, but I couldn't remember who they were.

"I heal well," I said, "I don't have to shape-change."

"You don't?" said Natasha. I began to shake my head and realised that was stupid. Maybe I needed to listen to those more experienced than I was.

"Depends how bad it is," I said, "does it need stitches? If it does, I need to shape-change." Natasha showed me her handkerchief. As I caught sight of the blood Miri squealed and jumped away.

"Look out!" Natasha slapped the handkerchief back in place and as we turned, I saw the blood all over the floor.

"You're going to say it's bad," I said. She was in officer mode.

"Not bad, just a scalp wound. You know how they bleed. I don't want you wasting that kind of energy on my behalf, we'll get you stitched." I had told the same lies. I didn't mention having healed most of my bones in one change, though admittedly that had tired me beyond belief for days.

Somehow, by the time I had ten stitches and a dressing on the back of my head Natasha was on my personal staff too. Were women in the army a good idea? I found them distracting but I was always distracted by women, they didn't have to be in the army with me.

I was comfortable with the notion. Blame my own mother, in many ways more capable than my father, and his physical superior when it came to it. Only thing that saved Father was speed. I was never a fast runner. So I didn't mind women in the army and certainly wasn't prepared to argue with women against their inclusion. I was never sure if that was sexist, sensible, or simple cowardice.

Apparently Natasha was one of their best pilots, and I thought that might be handy. Fenric and I were amateurs despite our enthusiasm and Archie liked to fly with his eyes shut because it scared him less that way. That his passengers didn't like it hadn't impinged. Archie argued that the computer always told him if the bird, named Shuttle 3, was even slightly canting, close to the ground, or off course, so why did he need to look?

The women escorted me back to my quarters, where the news that Miri and Natasha were part of my staff was at first met with polite disbelief. I did get to sit down and start a pipe before a rather vigorous discussion started.

"Is Miri blackmailing you?" said Fenric.

"I am here, Fenric," said Miri, who was sitting next to me doing a good imitation of a solicitous cousin. Having wet a handkerchief, she was wiping the dried blood off me. "I can hear you."

"No," I said, "Miri's not blackmailing me. Besides, who can blackmail me? My life is literally an open book. No, I thought her viewpoint would be useful-" Fenric made a snorting noise.

"Before or after Legs here coshed you?" Natasha's turn to make a snorting noise.

"Legs? Screw you, Muscles," she said, "the manwhore told you what happened." I stood up, thinking to stop the argument somehow.

"Manwhore," said Archie, frowning at me. I nearly laughed.

"Everyone needs to shut up," I said, "and listen to me."

"You hired the woman who calls you a manwhore!" said Archie, sounding petulant.

"I think of it as a term of endearment," I said, which made Natasha actually laugh, "though yes, it's sexist." Natasha looked at me with what looked like respect. "According to a book I read," I said, nodding to her. "However, I don't understand why either of you are upset at me seconding either of them."

"Manwhore," said Archie, shaking his head.

"For the record," I said, "in case any of you is working for my biographer, Natasha and I have not been intimate in any way, unless you count her king-hitting me and then assisting with the first-aid-"

"Is he concussed?" Fenric asked Miri.

"Under observation," she said, "doc said he's alright, but to keep an eye on him."

"She called you a manwhore!" said Archie again. He was broken-hearted over his ex's refusal to spawn for him and Natasha was a convenient outlet for his anger, we all understood. Even men aren't as stupid as women think.

"You keep saying that," I said, "now, before I have to pull rank on you all-"

"Manwhore?" said Miri, finally tuning in and starting to laugh. So did Natasha. So did Fenric. So did I but it made my head hurt.

"Ow," I said, "someone get me-"

"What does the manwhore need?" said Archie.

"What," said Natasha, "so I said Polo's a manwhore-" By now I wasn't laughing, more petulant. I wasn't even on the front and already I was injured and really wishing the fighting would stop. For some reason I was trying to stay calm.

"Someone get me some willow bark," I said, "my head's exploding. Look, Natasha, I object to this manwhore thing, I'm not a whore. I don't do it for coin. It's a derogatory term. It implies I am not discerning about my sexual partners. Besides, telling someone they're a whore because they enjoy sex is pathetic. It's what women accuse men of doing to women. It's also untrue of me. Ask Fenric how many men and women I knock back. Those books-"

"Oh gods," said Miri, laughing, "don't believe those books, Nat. Polo's nothing like the prig in the books." There went calmness.

"Prig?" I said, turning to her. "How can I be a prig and a manwhore? They're bloody opposites!"

"And too easily led?" said Fenric, who like Archie was looking at Miri and Natasha as if they were Sriamans I'd suddenly decided to hire. Gods, all of them were playing mind games with me. It was like living at Blue Hill Farm, Mother and Father squabbling all the time and trying to involve me in their little wars.

"Easily led?" said Natasha to Fenric. "Who by?"

"Anyone with a pretty arse?" said Fenric. I wanted to shut my eyes and hope they went away. Instead, I bellowed in my best corporal's voice,

"Atten-shun!" The military types couldn't help it, they stopped what they were doing and if not actually snapping to attention, were at least paying it to me. Miri had been sitting next to me laughing and was now pretending to be invisible so she could have a smoke.

"Thank you," I said, "now sit down and shut up, please. Natasha is a pilot, a good one. Like the rest of you, she's a soldier with combat experience. Except Miri, who's undergoing assessment for her suitability to help recruit and then run the women's units. She's inexperienced and possibly untrained, but I suggest you take her on in the pits and see what she needs to learn." It was pretty good, for bullshit.

"Like I said," said Fenric, grey eyes narrowed, "blackmail. Come on, Polo, what in the name of the gods is worse than doing it with vegetables? The entire kingdom knows about that." Everyone roared with laughter. Except Archie, who thought himself unobserved and was looking at Miri with undisguised longing. Miri? Oh dear. I closed my eyes a moment then opened them. I glared at the others.

"Someone get me willow bark, and a smoke. Now! Or I'll have you all hung for insubordination. Just because I can." There must have been something in my tone, or perhaps they were humouring me, but they stopped squabbling and looked after me.

I went to bed early.

#### ****

## Chapter 39 – Women in the Army

Two days later I crawled into the pits to find Natasha as my sparring partner. The topaz eyes regarded me with amusement.

"Oh bloody no," I said, not having realised who Colonel Reid was. "Not you. I've still got stitches." She smirked.

"I asked if I could fight the famous Polo Shawcross, new commander of the Dragon Army."

"I bet they were happy to let you try to kill me." She gave me a sardonic look, and then closed her visor.

"Say when," she said.

"Be gentle with me, colonel." I could hear the laugh, muffled by the helmet.

"Put your helmet on," she said, "I'm not allowed to hit you until then. You know, Polo, I'm feeling premenstrual."

"Glad to be of service," I said, "my mother used to use me as an emotional punching bag, so this should be interesting." We touched weapons, saluted, then she went for me. Thank all the gods I'd kept up my training. She didn't manage to kill me. Although she did her best.

Natasha kept to the rules of sparring, where one didn't kick a downed opponent or hit above the shoulder, but otherwise she fought to the death. Close to her was safest but still exhausting. She was so fast. It was like fighting a particularly limber octopus. I focused on trying not to cry. Never had three minutes seemed so long. Why had I agreed to three three-minute bouts? I might be dead before breakfast. I tried to distract her with diplomacy.

"Azrael would love to spar with you," I said, during one of our more intimate moments, as we struggled, faces close to each other.

"That's the new king?" she said.

"Aye, likes people who go hard." She grunted in surprise.

"Thought he was a whore for men the way you're a manwhore." I would have remonstrated but she got a foot behind mine and I went over backwards. Natasha politely offered me a hand up, I took it, we saluted each other again, and then she nearly broke my arm with the heavy practice sword.

"He's not a whore at all," I said, through clenched teeth and eye-watering pain, "he's the kind who needs love." Block, parry, knee, sweep, stab, block, elbow. Gods, would my fingers please work again before she killed me?

"Not like you?" she said, then got me bad with an elbow. Sound of coughing.

"Give me a break, Colonel Reid," I said, gasping.

"Not bloody likely, corporal." I didn't mind being called corporal. She went to drop me again. I felt it coming and shifted our balance the other way. She spun away from me, came back. Still winded, I held up a hand.

"Quarter," I said, wheezing, "can't breathe. Elbows." That mollified her a bit. Once I caught my breath I tried to continue my charm offensive as head of the army.

"Look, colonel, I'm proud of being a corporal. I am not the king's lover, or a manwhore, and was drafted into running the army which I don't want to be in. I was drafted, not only by the king but by a huge majority of the aristocracy, including your own queen. I have no idea what they were thinking, but despite not wanting to be here I reckon any non-com could do better than the officers have been doing the last three hundred years-" that would have been fine but my mouth wasn't going to stop talking "-seeing we're not up ourselves like the people who bought their commissions. Which reminds me, how did you make it to colonel?" Honestly, I was planning to be nice, but for some reason my mouth was set on being provocative.

It did the trick. Natasha became angry. That was the only reason I survived bout three. Angry and not actually in a life-or-death bout, she started making mistakes.

Both of us limping, despite our best attempts to hide it, and me working the fingers of my right hand and hoping the tingling stopped, we went to return our practice armour. She won the match. Two of three. I didn't care because I was still alive. As Fenric or someone had told me, winning wasn't always important in battles. Posthumous acknowledgement, as the man - or the woman - who won the battle, was scant pleasure for a corpse.

"You're pretty good," Natasha said, and stood back to let me through the door first. I bowed.

"From you," I said, "I'll take that as one of the finest compliments I've ever had." I wasn't being at all sarcastic and thankfully she noticed before she hit me again. She frowned.

"You really spar with the king?" I nodded. "Is he as good as you?" She'd slaughter him.

"Well," I said, "not any more. Three years on the front and I'm better, which I'm glad over, he used to hurt me a lot. And you would have killed me." She inclined her head, it was true. "Azrael's furious I can beat him all the time now. But good-natured towards me. He's a good man, Natasha." I remembered he wasn't that good-natured to everyone and had taken draconium, which was possibly affecting his mental state.

"They're passing out leaflets," Natasha said, "about the new kingdom."

"Aye," I said, "I've read some of them."

"This Azrael's a dreamer."

"Someone has to dream the dreams," I said and smiled. "The Queen of Joban thinks he's a visionary." I didn't mention the possibly prejudicial information that she was his aunt, was now imprisoned, or that, if only by accident, she once nearly killed him.

"Words," she said. "I heard he thinks he's Alexander. You know what happens, with dreamers who want to be conquerors?" I sighed.

"Aye, too many people die."

"You're not an idiot, Polo," she said. I was once again flattered.

"One death is one too many," I said, "I'm officially in command now, so responsible for every one of them." She gave me a serious look.

"That's too much of a load for anyone to take."

"Don't you take responsibility for your men?" I paused. "Or women?" There was no answer to that.

Of course she did.

#### ****

I tried to see Natasha as one of my officers first. Miri was simply staff like Fenric though both of them might be considered my friends. So walking in on Miri, Natasha, and Fenric later that day in a tangled and sweaty threesome in the lounge of our quarters was a reminder that men and women together might cause some problems.

It was very hard to stop watching. They invited me to join them but I said no thanks. Every time I had sex with Miri, it turned sour. Aloud I just smiled and told them to use the fourth bedroom if they liked.

"Sorry sir," said Miri, gathering her clothes in her arms and running that way. I laughed and resisted the urge to follow her bare bottom wherever it led.

Sex wasn't a reason to ban women. Men and men together caused enough sexual problems, either doing it with each other or going crazy for wanting to do it with women, and the Dragon Army should be used to it. If we couldn't deal with the extra problems caused by heterosexual urges, we should probably stop pretending to be able to manage people at all.

There were some things I did straightaway. I raised army wages, cancelled existing contracts with non-guild suppliers and took on guild ones instead. A steady stream of new equipment was going north on barges, though soon we'd be using shuttles to shift men, equipment, and horses. I also had officers who'd graduated the Military Guild in the last ten years independently assessed by officers I trusted. If they couldn't read maps or achieve the standards expected, they were offered a choice. Fight as an enlisted man, or face the stockade for cheating.

I was glad to hear that Lieutenant Porky was one of those stripped of his position, though to his credit, he had joined the ranks.

#### ****

## Chapter 40 - Prediction

Ten days later, I had the stitches out of my head, and flew via shuttle to Peterhaven. The south was covered in snow, as was much of the centre, and we flew over a shining white world. Natasha put us down sweetly in the middle of the Green. The king came out to meet the shuttle. Azrael was more blissed than I'd ever seen him. We took him for a spin, Natasha piloting, and then landed back on the Green. As we walked away from the shuttle I told him he looked well.

"If I didn't know better," I said, "I'd say marriage was agreeing with you." He smiled.

"Actually, it is. Lilith's not at all needy or mad, and very businesslike. She's teaching me time management." I laughed.

"I'm glad," I said, "and glad I was wrong."

"Well," he said, "early days yet, eh? We're still negotiating. The tribe are concerned about the south."

"Concerned?" I said.

"Lilith says they can't be paid to fight their own. And Dragon have an exemption written into the Law. They can't be drafted. I checked, it's true. They join your Dragon Army, they might have to fight in the old kingdoms, our new Theus, where most people have someone with Dragon blood as a cousin." I frowned.

"So what are the Dragon soldiers I've got doing?"

"Technically they're all volunteers," said Azrael, "they can do it if they volunteer. They do draw normal soldier wages." He shrugged.

"Well, I'm happy if they will fight in the north, then they can leave. Though I don't think we'll need to fight in the south. Do you?" He shrugged again.

"No idea. But hopefully not. As for the people we have already, I gather Lilith's called in some favours."

"Three thousand years worth?" I said, and we both looked thoughtful. "Will it be enough? We'll have another shuttle before the end of winter."

"Silly isn't it," said Azrael, "when a half-Dragon has taken over the kingdoms and the Dragon queen sits at his side. Even that hasn't really united us all."

"They're bloody short-sighted for immortals," I said.

"Technically they're not immortal," he said, "they're renewable." I laughed.

"Must admit, I think my wrist and hip have improved since I started changing. Still have the scars and get that deep-in-the-bone pain, though it's lessened. Are you renewable yet?" He sighed.

"Stefan says I'm not to try changing. It feels like ages, I have to remind myself it's only just four weeks since I took the draconium."

"Aye, seemed longer to me too," I said, "how's Indigo?" Azrael's expression was sombre.

"He's not doing well. He was much vainer than he, or any of us, realised." I thought sourly that I knew exactly how vain Indigo was, had done since we were all sixteen and he wore orange silk breeches and shirt with matching shoes.

"He's stuck as half-Dragon?" Azrael drew a line down his own body.

"Aye," he said, "half shape-changed. Even got one wing. He can't do things because he's uneven, though he has to learn. You remember, getting back from being mauled wasn't easy." Nearly dying when Indigo and his friends threw me in the Malion Moat wasn't easy either.

"Aye," I said, pretending to sympathy, "I remember. Is Stefan helping him?"

"He would, but Indigo is refusing all help. Would you go talk to him?"

"Me?" Sympathy has its limits, especially the pretend kind.

"Would you, Polo?" Azrael gave me a pleading look. "For me? You've got more experience of shape-changing than most people." Not more than Stefan, I nearly said, but remembered just in time that Azrael still didn't know about Stefan actually being Nanny Black, though he'd learned that Stefan was his father.

One step at a time. Also, I decided when Azrael did find out about Nanny Black I didn't want him to know that I knew. It was uncomfortable enough when he realised I'd known Stefan was his father for years and forgotten to mention it. So in order to say something and not look suspicious, I said,

"Sure, I'll talk to Indigo."

#### ****

As I walked away down the corridor, Cree appeared and floated beside me. I waited until I was out of sight of Azrael's guards. Reasonably sure nobody was watching, I stopped next to a painting of King Theo as a young man. Theo looked a lot like Young Perry but slimmer. I noticed in the background the artist had put in a table with the remains of several bottles of wine, but only one glass, almost empty. It wasn't historically accurate. Theo had been a whiskey drinker.

"Am I about to die?" I said aloud. Cree shook his head.

Not right this moment. Perhaps soon.

"Oh. I have this war to win. Help." He smiled.

You have all the skills you need to survive.

"That's good to know. Do I get more clues?" He looked very amused, but said,

_Indigo has enemies. You have enemies. Azrael has enemies. There are not many people who are enemies of all three of you._ It only took me a few moments.

"Young Perry?"

_It's unlikely to be the Elder one_. Cree chuckled.

"I thought Perry was gone to Kavarlen or somewhere?"

_A desire for vengeance is a powerful motivator when it comes to doing idiotic things._ He began to fade. _Most negative emotions are._

"Wait, Young Perry's in the citadel somewhere?"

In your path. You can kill him. Or he will kill everyone you love, then he will kill you.

I completely misunderstood his words, and ran back to Azrael's suite.

#### ****

In minutes, the citadel was in lockdown and Azrael's guard was tripled. He had a meeting, and I was shooed off yet again to talk to Indigo, which I wasn't looking forward to. I knew we'd been enemies too long for me to trust him. However, I'd promised, so first I procrastinated while working up the energy.

I went to the infirmary, ostensibly to see Stefan for advice, had a brief hello with Saraia, who was doing very well. She had changed spontaneously, been able to get back to human shape, one where her legs were healed from the awful breaks, and was only in hospital in case she had some kind of delayed reaction.

She was on her bed, sitting up, fully dressed except for bare feet, and hugged me affectionately, which was pleasant. I was feeling like I needed a hug. I might be about to die. I told her what I was doing and Stefan arrived so I told him.

Stefan warned me that there was nothing physically wrong with Indigo. He was young, fit, and strong, but refusing to leave his rooms. All attempts to restore him to one shape or the other had failed and he was officially lurking, as Stefan put it, in the West Wall Tower, which rather than being on the West Wall, overlooked it, and once one climbed up a few floors or so, had a spectacular view of the areas beyond.

What was it with towers and my relations? Indigo was another cousin, as I was pretty sure his father Cobalt was a first cousin to Theo. And I was a cousin to Theo too, but a more distant one. Second once removed? Third twice removed? Mother was never sure so nor was I, though Grandmama knew it exactly. Simply being cousins of some kind was enough.

I thought about it as I jogged upwards, past citadel guards who let me by. I was expected, they said. Bloody Azrael, getting me to give his boyfriend a pep talk. He had counted on me being amenable. I was thinking annoyed thoughts and in my grumpy state would have walked right into the ambush, but Cree appeared, and I stopped dead. Wary of speaking aloud, I opened my mind.

_Is this it?_ I asked. _Is he up there?_ Cree nodded. I was just up from the south and not wearing armour. I touched my weapons only to find I had none. Weapons set off the sensors in the private areas of Castlemeadow so I had stopped wearing those too. Nine-sided idiot, I told myself silently.

There was only one thing for it. I walked back down, told the guards to let nobody past unless I either fell off the top of the tower or walked down to tell them it was alright. One of the guards ran off to notify a superior officer, which struck me as funny because I outranked everyone in Theus.

What I planned wasn't completely idiotic, and the alarm was raised in the meantime. Still, I wasn't sensible, I went to face Perry alone. I found a window to the outside, opened it, stripped off and changed into dragon form. Then I dived out, flying away at first to come at the tower from above. I could see at an angle onto the terrace. It was deserted. I swooped down, slowing carefully, trying to keep my speed just above stall as I came over the edge of the balustrade. I didn't want to alert those below with the scrape of claws.

Dropping out of the sky, my landing wasn't as neat as a sparrow, but showed promise. I crept down the stairs.

"He's supposed to be coming," I heard someone say. Then there was a pause. The same voice, a man, continued, "That's disgusting. Do you ever stop eating?" He didn't sound familiar.

"I eat when I'm nervous." I did know that voice, it was Young Perry.

"You eat all the bloody time. And that?" said the stranger.

"Haven't you ever heard of steak tartare?" said Perry through a mouthful of something. I heard him swallow, loudly. "And don't criticise your true ruler," he added, "when I'm king I'll have you hung."

"Threatening me is pointless," said the stranger. "And it isn't going to get you what you want." There was a pause.

"I thought you said Azrael promised Polo would come?" said Perry, and burped. There was a silence. Then a cough.

"He did," said the voice. "And with Indigo out of the game, there's nothing to worry about."

"Is he unconscious again?" said Perry. "Wake him up."

"Wake him up? Galaia preserve us, you're a sick bastard."

"I warned you already!" Perry sounded like he was spitting with rage. "Don't call me a bastard! And wake him!"

"You think he can wake up after what you've done?" There was a splashing noise, someone choking. Gods, I thought, it sounded like Indigo was being tortured.

Why didn't Perry just go away and let me get on with life? Why was being king was so attractive to him? It wasn't to me. I didn't understand these idiots who'd happily kill to get the throne. I climbed the wall, approaching the door on one corner from the top - quite easy with claws but doing horrible things to the plaster - then carefully peered in.

The owner of the stranger's voice was out of sight, maybe behind the door, which was three-quarters open. I could see Perry's feet and his shadow. He seemed to be waving a chicken wing. I pulled back to think about it. There were others in there. I could hear them moving, the sound of men in armour. Possibly too many for one person, even in dragon-shape. I heard voices below. Perry and his friend heard them too.

"See," the first voice said, "I told you he was coming." There went my chance of surprising them.

"He's not alone," Perry was saying petulantly as people began coming up the stairs. My only plan had been attacking Perry in a surprise assault. That was screwed. Instead I leapt past the door above the door frame and glided down the staircase, to find out who was coming up.

Exasperation rose in me as I saw it was the king with his bodyguards and a crowd of Hangers On. In hindsight, landing on the stairs in front of them was slightly rash. The bodyguards nearly attacked me, several of the Hangers On screamed, and Azrael threw himself in front of his bodyguards. Fenric, I reflected, would have had a fit.

"It's Polo!" Azrael said.

"Shush," I said, and pointed upwards. Then I made it clear by trying to shoo him down the stairs that he should go. He wouldn't. A comedy in mime ensued, a raging argument on my side, implacable on Azrael's, concerned and trying to stop the king killing himself on the part of his bodyguards. Finally Azrael leaned close to my ear.

"Those are Indigo's rooms. If it was you up there, with Perry, would you forgive me if I walked away?"

"I wouldn't forgive you risking your life for no damn reason," I said, feeling snappy. Azrael said perhaps Indigo was lying bloodied on the floor, and I didn't mention that he probably was or that Perry had complained about Indigo being unconscious.

"At least take my bodyguards," the king said. I agreed to that if he kept the Hangers On away. Of course, once the bodyguards and I moved up, there was nobody to stop Azrael and the rest of the idiots following us up the stairs. I decided to come in the tower window and let the guards go in the door.

That part went well, and none of the attackers died. However, we were not prepared for the scene in front of us. Young Perry was standing over what was left of Indigo, who was very definitely still alive because he saw me come in, and tears filled his remaining eye.

What Perry had done was so bad I couldn't believe my own eyes. I also couldn't dwell on it for the moment but had to move fast. I took out the men armed with crossbows standing just inside the window and covering the door. Azrael's Blood bodyguards were likewise moving quickly.

There were ten men with Perry. Some Blood, some commoner. I confess I tore three of them completely apart and one jumped out a window, perhaps thinking that a two-storey fall was preferable to facing me, but we never found out because the fall killed him. Young Perry tried to escape out a secret door, but one of Azrael's bodyguards blocked his way, and Perry retreated. The others surrendered to Azrael's guards, who hit them anyway, at least once. Our blood was up and no wonder.

At last, opposition under control, I sprang for Young Perry, this time happy to remove every fatty giblet from inside his body as slowly as I could before I let him die.

"No!" It was Azrael, come in behind the guards. "Polo, stop!" Snarling and lashing my tail, I knocked Perry flying instead of killing him and ended up standing over Indigo.

Indigo looked like Uncle Nate had peeled him and then some Sriamans had happened along and continued the torture. Perry had been removing the dragonskin from his body, trying to remove that half of Indigo that was dragon-shape. He'd amputated the dragon-skinned limbs and cut out one eye. The limbs he'd taken slowly, starting with clawed fingers and toes. Every digit then every limb on his left side had been neatly tourniqueted then removed, piled next to Indigo's bound body on the floor. Other parts were mangled. It looked like Perry had eaten some of them, his mouth was smeared with blood.

Steak tartare? I tried not to give in to the nausea and began removing Indigo's gag. There were teeth knocked out too. I used a claw to slice the fabric, easier than trying to undo the blood-soaked knot.

"Steady," I said. I'd seen worse. Not many when the man was still alive, but some. I looked at the debris of what had been a man. "Someone take a message to Dr Stefan Westwych," I said, my voice surprising me with its calmness. "He was at the infirmary, if he's not, have him sent for. We'll meet him there." I looked around at the horrified bodyguards. There were eight of them standing there stunned. I snapped my fingers, discovered I could do that in dragon-shape.

"Captain!" I said, and finally everyone came to. "Fastest runners you have. Find Stefan Westwych! Also inform the infirmary, grievously injured man incoming. Tell the infirmary to set up with surgeons, nurses, and equipment to reattach severed body parts. Another two to the nearest guard station for a stretcher! Two stretchers, one for the-" I gestured at the bloody litter of Indigo's skin and flesh. One pitiful wing. "And bring some ice and rolls of bioplas if you can."

"Yes sir!" The captain grabbed a man by the shoulder and pulled him forward.

"You've seen the state of him," I said to the guard, "as far as I know Dr Westwych is the only person with the knowledge to help him heal, make sure he's sent for. The king commands it via Polo Shawcross. I don't know what's possible," I said, trying to be reassuring, "but Stefan is the best surgeon in the kingdoms."

"If it doesn't work," said Indigo, speaking for the first time, not sounding himself at all, "promise me, Polo, you'll kill me."

"I promise," I said, "but you're going to be fine." What else could I say? I kept one eye on Young Perry, who was cowering against the wall. The guards were watching him too. None of us wanted to look at Indigo. Such a beautiful man, with his blonde curls and those dark blue eyes. Eye now. Azrael was holding Indigo's remaining hand. Perry had been so intent on keeping Indigo alive as he played, there was no real first aid I could think of. He wasn't really bleeding. I was wondering who could come back from this. I didn't think it was likely Indigo could heal himself at all, having been stuck as a half-dragon. Outwardly I was cheerful and optimistic.

"These cuts are clean," I said, "Perry wanted to keep you alive, so Stefan may be able to do something. Tell you what though, Indigo." I paused a moment. "You might have some scarring." The soldiers all laughed, and so did Indigo, after a fashion. Azrael shook his head at me, but he was smiling.

I suddenly remembered I could call Stefan mindwise, so I did, not waiting for a reply, just saying he was needed at the infirmary, the king's friend was grievously injured.

#### ****

Sooner than I expected, though it seemed a million years later, wheeled stretchers arrived. Indigo was moved to the infirmary along with his various body parts. They brought ice and bioplas bags to keep those cool. I insisted they take everything, the teeth and even the mangled bits, in case Stefan had some surgical magic I didn't know about. The teeth would be easy enough, if just put back, teeth could often heal.

Perry and his men were being put in chains as we left. We ran beside the stretcher as orderlies pushed it on wheels. It was new, the wheeled stretcher. One of Azrael's improvements. Moving him and me to the infirmary after Kristen's attack had been a nightmare on the old stretchers. Had Fenric and Ross thought we'd die? They kept saying we'd be fine. There had been so much blood. More than now but Aunt Kristen had mauled us, not tortured us with instruments and carefully tied off veins and arteries to stop us bleeding out. My instinct was to get enough poppy juice to overdose Indigo and do it soon. Before reality and shock set in.

Instead, once we reached the infirmary I just helped Azrael out of the anteroom before the operating theatre and nodded grimly to Stefan who was hurrying in, all gowned and gloved up. So the doctor who didn't operate any more was prepared to do favours when it meant making his son Azrael happy. Indigo dying was not what the new king needed. Not when he was still pining over me. For Indigo's sake I hoped the poor bastard died on the table.

"They'll be hours," I said to Azrael, "come on, let's go for a walk." Someone had brought my clothes. I collected them from a chair outside.

"Where to?" Azrael said, looking blank.

"I was thinking Uncle Nate's rooms. Before you retire him, give him one last job. Young Perry." Azrael looked worried.

"Uncle Nate is Perry's uncle too, not sure I can ask him to do that. Besides we all saw what was going on. I'll give those men who were with him the choice. They can be tortured and hung or they can turn coat and I'll give them a reward. And I'll commute the death sentence to exile."

"Show him Indigo if Nate needs spurring on," I said. "And you're the king, you can ask him to do anything. You should probably get this blood off first. I need to change shape. By the way, what's happening with Aunt Kristen?"

"She's going to trial at the next Blood Council. In the meantime, I've given her a tower of her own."

"Do any of the towers still have guards in?" He managed a smile.

"Aye, most, but the residential ones are usually undesirable thanks to all the stairs."

"Ah, that's why Theo put your mother in the North Tower."

"He was scoring points. Seems to be a family failing. I'm thinking that's what Young Perry was doing, with what he did to- to-" Azrael started to cry. Still in dragon-shape, I carefully patted his shoulder and let him sob against my scaled chest.

"He'll be fine," I said softly, "Stefan will know what to do. Look on the bright side, you're not actually related to the point-scoring Westwych's." That made him laugh, and we headed back to the Queen's Mews, where I could change back to human shape and get some food.

#### ****

## Chapter 41 – Revenge Therapy

Stefan didn't know what to do. When I spoke to him the next day he looked drawn and tired.

"I did it," he said, "for Azrael's sake, which I'm guessing was behind your message to attend the infirmary. The operations were mostly successes and I think a shape change would actually heal him, but Indigo is still being a two-year-old. He says he won't change shape, after changing shape against my orders last time. I can't do any more."

"A two-year-old?" I said.

"Aye, that's what I call it. His mind's in front of his progress, whining about something that happened when he was a boy."

"When Azrael was affirmed as heir, you mean." Indigo had made it very clear to anyone who'd listen. He was a favourite nephew of the old King Theo and thought he was going to be heir to Sendren. When we were all fifteen, Azrael, Theo's only male grandchild, arrived from Beechwood with his new friend, Polo Shawcross. Between us, Azrael and I seemed to take everything Indigo thought he was entitled to.

"And," Stefan said, "Azrael's always loved you best." I shrugged.

"I've never loved Azrael, Stefan, not as a lover might. He's been my friend, but I never led him on. If I knew he was still in love with me I wouldn't have agreed to come back to Sendren from the army."

"How long were you lovers?" I snorted.

"We were never lovers. We had sex maybe three times five bloody years ago, over the space of a week. I told him then I didn't love him and never would. I told him earlier today that if he doesn't stop propositioning me and accept that I don't love him, the next time he comes onto me I'm going to punch him." Stefan nodded.

"Good," he said, "I thought you might be avoiding being his lover because you were afraid of being gay." I laughed.

"I'm bisexual, Stefan, but I'm not in love with Azrael. I think I feel about men the way he feels about women. Don't mind them sucking my cock or sucking theirs, or more. But I don't fall in love with them or want to set up house with one. Now would you sod off?"

"I'm trying to get inside Indigo's head, you're collateral damage. Sorry." I nodded.

"Aye," I said, "I think you're wasting your time."

"I do too. You're the one he has the problem with, Polo. You have to talk to him." We argued for a while, but he was insistent. So once again I went to talk to Indigo.

That time I made it.

#### ****

There was heavy bandaging over Indigo's head and face. He had one good hand, which was all I could see, and there were cages supporting the bedclothes over each of the formerly severed limbs. A large one over his groin.

"Hey," I said, as I walked in. "You're looking better than the last time I saw you."

"You promised," he said softly. "You said you'd kill me." I was a non-commissioned officer, lads wanting to die from pain or injury were nothing new to me. If he needed it, I'd put him down like a wounded horse. But he didn't need it.

"Aye," I said. I had, I'd promised. "But you're not dying. You're alive. You're quite capable of healing yourself. If you want to commit suicide by proxy I'm not your man. I'm thinking if you want to die you can find your own way."

"You bastard!" Indigo began to cough and the nurse came running in. It was Nurse Anna, her of the green eyes and red hair. I'd had a massive and unrequited crush on her when I was sixteen. She looked to be nearly thirty now. Still so pretty. She didn't look at me at first. Then she did. I smiled. She smiled back.

"Hello," I said, "long time, Anna."

"Polo, hello." I tried not to get lost in the green of her eyes or the tawny patterns of her freckles. Then I noticed the wedding ring. Ah well, missed my chance there.

"Nurse Anna's the best," I said, "you're in good hands, Indigo." He wasn't going to be gracious.

"She won't kill me either." He curled his lip at her. At my lovely Anna? He wasn't worthy of one of her freckles. I scowled at him.

"Why should she help you with your coward's way out? Get off your arse, Indigo. Instead of relying on Daddy's help for the rest of your life, or being carried by that poor wife of yours." Anna understood what I was doing and didn't say more than,

"Polo's right." Indigo lay there, whining that we didn't know how hard his life was. I used everything I knew about him. I jeered and was generally cruel. I didn't enjoy it as much as a younger me might have.

I told Anna to cut down his poppy juice, which she did after checking with Stefan, and taunted him some more. I stopped all his visitors and took over a lot of his care. Thanks to my time in the same infirmary, I could deal with simple medical procedures. Under the doctors' supervision, I left him wanting poppy, only giving enough that he wasn't in agony. I wanted him to resent me, to get angry and turn the rage into something useful.

#### ****

Azrael came by as often as he could, bringing news. I wouldn't let him talk to Indigo. I was in charge for now. If my way didn't work, let him try again. Meanwhile, I was running the army from a chair in the patients' lounge of the hospital infirmary.

Young Perry was being interrogated, as were his accomplices, though without torture. The accomplices were all offered a choice. The first was to talk, and be exiled from Theus, with a reward and with no penalty to their families, who could follow them into exile or not.

The other option was not to talk, which Azrael assured them would prove painful and fatal and their families would be exiled with nothing, to end up as slaves in Kavarlen. The men told us rather a lot we didn't know. Including that Indigo had been happy to co-operate with Perry and ask Azrael to send me to talk to him. When I mentioned it, Indigo claimed he thought I'd be fine, but I could see it in his one eye, he'd thought at last he'd be free of me.

Despite Indigo's betrayal of his lover the king, and the kingdom, Perry then decided he hadn't forgiven Indigo for giving him bad intelligence in the Jobanese War, as it was being called, and took a rather ghastly revenge. I had little sympathy for Indigo, which was for the best. After all, if Indigo hadn't tried to hand me over to Perry, he'd never have ended up being tortured by him.

After three days I was bored, and started baiting Indigo with stories of how Azrael was keeping me company any time Indigo slept. In reality, I was just down the corridor but Indigo didn't know that. What I could see of his face was going red and he was making angry noises.

"I confess, I'm not that gay," I said in a conversational tone, "but Azrael really does suck cock well. You know how he does that thing with the tip of his tongue-?" A completely enraged and completely whole Indigo leapt out of his bed in dragon shape, and I only just tumbled backwards out the door in time. I ran for my life.

The thing that saved me was Indigo getting stuck in bedding, surgical appliances and various doorways. I stripped what I could as I ran, glad to be wearing moccasins I could kick off, then changed shape in mid-stride, tearing up yet another shirt and pair of trousers, and then took to the air just outside the infirmary.

It was snowing, which helped hide me. Pretending to be making for the hills, I circled round the citadel and dropped into Azrael's quarters via his balcony.

"Azrael!" I shouted, scattering and scaring the guards as I rushed into the suite panting, looking over my shoulder. "Indigo's made it into full form!"

"It's Polo!" shouted Azrael. "Don't kill him!" The guards stopped drawing weapons. I waved apologetically.

"Sorry," I said, "we must get some kind of signal."

"It's alright," said the king, "I think they're starting to recognise you, it was just the surprise. What happened?" I tried to keep my voice down, seeing there were Hangers On around.

"I told him you and I were an item and he lost his temper. He's in dragon-shape and whole, but I'm not sure about his mind. Last I saw him he was flying in the direction of Starshore. I made out I was heading that way." Azrael winced.

"Gods, he's very jealous." I wasn't taking the blame for Indigo's shortcomings.

"Aye, I got that. But he's whole. So I did as you asked, I talked to him and it worked. Now, can I please have permission to see Aunt Kristen?" He sighed then nodded. We were both warily watching the glass doors to the terrace.

"Aye, Polo, you have my permission. I'll come with you. Kristen's in the prison at the moment, and so is Perry. I want to see his face when he finds out that, thanks to Polo Shawcross, Indigo is alive and whole."

"I wouldn't mind seeing that too." I grinned, and several people took a step backwards, reminding me that in dragon-shape, a smile was too many teeth. "Hopefully Indigo will fly around for a while and calm down. Give me a few minutes, I'm going to change. I'll meet you back here."

#### ****

## Chapter 42 – Remembering a Dream

I'd just arrived back, man-shaped and dressed, when a servant came in carrying a large box. I grabbed some sandwiches and a coffee from the sideboard. I was feeling tired but the food would help. The Hangers On were gone, the king was alone except for his bodyguards. Mine were waiting outside.

"The Royal Keeper of the Crown Jewels said you're expecting this, sire," said the servant.

"Aye," said Azrael, "one moment, Polo, I have to try this for size."

"No problem," I said, taking another sandwich, "I'll just refuel." The servant smiled and began unpacking the box on a nearby table.

"It's my crown," said Azrael. "Lilith has a matching smaller circlet but this is the ruler's crown." It was beautiful. I tried not to gasp, though not over its beauty. I told him it suited him. Azrael smiled. I tried to smile back, hoping I hid how shocked I was.

A spectacular silver dragon coiled around his head. I'd seen the crown before, though until then I'd never seen so much as a sketch of the design, nor had anyone described it to me. The beautifully worked crown's dragon had black pearls for eyes, rubies in its nostrils, filigree wings edged in diamonds and jet inlay on the body, exactly as I dreamed it.

Once, when Azrael and I were living in Malion, I went on a dreamdust trip and didn't wake up for several days. I dreamed of taking a silver dragon crown from a redheaded woman. Now, five or so years later, Azrael was wearing exactly the same crown. Gods, was I to break my oaths to Azrael and Theo and take the throne after all? Please no. I'd never mentioned the dream to Azrael, never described the crown. A duke doesn't describe taking a royal crown, even in a dream, not to a future king.

I ate another sandwich, thinking moodily that if that had been a possible future in that dream, I must try to avoid it. The servant was dismissed.

"Want to try it on?" said Azrael, taking the crown off. I didn't but couldn't think of a polite way to refuse. He settled it over my head. Still warm from his. It fitted, as I knew it would. I remembered the feeling.

In the dream, it was still warm too, from her head. Who was she, the redhead? It hadn't been Lilith. Was she someone who took the crown from Azrael? I suddenly remembered Jules asking, did I remember the dream? Now I did, and it frightened me.

At Azrael's urging I looked at myself in a mirror.

"How do I look?" I said, trying to smile. "Damn, rather you than me, Azrael. It's bloody heavy."

"It's light compared to the old one," he said. "And it looks good on you. If I die without issue, I'll recommend you as heir on that basis." I managed to laugh.

"Please no," I said. "Pick someone sensible, who wants the job."

"Nobody sensible wants this job," said Azrael. I handed him back his crown.

"I think someone Dragon should be ruler. They're less short-sighted than most people."

"You're Dragon." I smiled.

"Only a quarter, plus whatever percentage my mother's mixed blood on her father's side makes me." I spoke softly as his parentage was secret. "You're half plus whatever your matrilineal line makes you. And the draconium."

"Gods, I hadn't thought of that," said the king, looking pleased. He set the crown back in its box.

"Aye," I said, "and as you've already made me field marshal when I'm not ready, don't make me king. Try to live a long life. And may you be blessed with spawn." He laughed.

"I'll do my best. To live long and spawn." I smiled.

"Anyway," I said, "I'd be happier if we were out of your quarters, sire, in case Indigo comes looking." He agreed and we moved off with bodyguards in attendance, on our way to the prison.

"You said Kristin's in the prison?" I said. "I thought she was in a tower?"

"She is," he said, "but she's holding art classes in the prison." I wasn't sure I'd heard him correctly.

"She's holding art classes?" I said. Azrael shook his head.

"Don't ask," said the king, rolling his eyes, "something about therapy and paying her social debt. But she's there most days." I wondered again why she hadn't changed shape. She could fly away any time.

"So she's getting some freedoms?" I said. He smiled.

"Aye and I didn't let Uncle Nate peel her."

"Did you let him at her at all?" I said, feeling responsible for Aunt Kristen. Azrael shook his head.

"She spent the first few weeks writing down everything she could remember about Jobanese affairs and Young Perry in particular. We were able to check some key notions and she told the truth all the way. Even gave us some very useful information."

"Does she know Perry's here?" I said.

"No idea," said the king, "I haven't spoken to either of them since Perry was arrested."

"How long has it been?"

"Since he was arrested?" I nodded. "Three days? Since the Jobanese War, about five weeks. Did I say thank you? I meant to say thank you, for your help during the war, for catching Perry, and for doing what you did with Indigo."

"It's alright," I said, "glad it worked." Terribly sorry your lover went mad during the cure, sire.

"Now you're going to win the war?" he said. I shook my head.

"Dragon Army reconnaissance and troops are going to win the war." I was right, but for the wrong reasons. I started heading for the citadel prison, but Azrael said we weren't going there.

"We're using a different prison. The usual citadel prison can hold about ten people all up, they're moved pretty much straightaway to the town police cells, but with the numbers in town for the Coronation and Royal wedding, the police cells in town are full. The citadel's full of lost rooms, even whole sections, we think there's yet another prison, to hold a few hundred, and there's a stockade down in the Old Fort."

"Really?"

"Aye, though we're not sure where the third prison is. Uncle Nate said it was supposed to be accessible through the root cellars under the kitchens but Aunt Clare can't find anything in the Map Room. The one we're going to has about thirty cells." I raised my eyebrows.

"This place is like a rabbit warren. Do we know how Young Perry got in, by the way?" Azrael shook his head. "Did you let Uncle Nate at him?"

"I haven't. I was waiting to see what happened with Indigo." He smiled. "I did thank you, didn't I?"

"You did."

#### ****

## Chapter 43 – Mad-and-Dangerous

The prison in use was in the depths of the citadel's lower levels and busy at the moment, what with a few deposed kings, a hostage queen holding art classes in the prisoner lounge, and the mad-and-dangerous ex-Crown Prince in residence. There were even several gangs of criminals, including pickpockets and thieves caught in the citadel over the wedding and Blood Council period, some charged with impersonating servants, and a duchess who killed her husband after one too many liqueurs during Azrael's wedding.

"We suspect she was one of several who accidentally drank liqueur mixed with mindweed tincture," said Azrael.

"Almost makes me wish I was here," I said, "who dosed the liqueur?" He shook his head at the memories.

"Wasn't just the liqueur. Desserts, ales, wines. And we don't know. I personally suspect someone paid the servants to dose the party about halfway through. You've never seen so many mellow people. It was good really. I told the guards not to worry about it. Aside from the duchess, most people had a really good time. There was a lower death toll than most citadel events."

"So why did the duchess kill the duke?" I said. "Mindweed tincture doesn't make people violent."

"Aye," said Azrael, "more the paranoia from the mindweed and she'd been drinking heavily before the wedding. She thought he was about to push her off the citadel wall so he could marry his mistress. Claimed he lured her up there, and when he grabbed her, which witnesses say he did, she screamed and pushed him away, which happened to be over the edge. He was previously seen with a female identified as his lover, who told friends he was going to marry her in weeks rather than the months a divorce would usually take, so the duchess may not hang. The lover ran to the east coast, she's being brought back under guard."

From the stairs, we'd come down a long corridor to the door to the prison. I could hear something behind us. Perhaps someone. I listened.

"What's that noise?" said Azrael.

"It sounds horribly like Indigo shouting my name," I said, looking around. Indigo never really took to me. On our first meeting, in the baths, he tried to drown me. That was before he even met Young Perry, who promised Indigo a duchy if he killed me, which led to that time Indigo tried to murder me when he and his friends had me trapped on the narrow road beside the palace moat in Malion.

I supposed the truce, in effect when Indigo wanted me to teach him to change shape, was no longer current. And I was stuck in a dead-end tunnel at the bottom of a hole while my enemy came at me. I began banging my fist on the prison entrance door, and shouting for the guards.

"What's that?" Azrael said, frowning. "Is he saying he can smell you?" I wasn't sure. Azrael's bodyguards were also looking around. The captain began thumping his fist on the door and shouting too.

"Guards!" shouted Azrael. "Open the door, in the name of the king!" The hatch in the door opened, and a man said,

"Who speaks in the name of the king? Oh, Your Majesty!" There were the sounds of locks and bolts hurriedly being undone.

"Quick," said Azrael, "open the door!" I could hear Indigo, bellowing, getting closer and closer. Was he actually mad-and-dangerous? I blamed Stefan. It was his idea for me to get Indigo to transform.

We hurried through the door. With the thought of Stefan suddenly I remembered something.

_Help_ , I said in, or more precisely with my mind, _someone please help. The king is trapped in the citadel prison, someone help._ I didn't want Indigo killed, not after all the effort to raise him from the almost-dead, so asked whoever came to watch out for the dragon outside the door. It was Indigo Sutherland and nobody was to hurt him.

"Perhaps you could try talking to him through the hatch," I said to Azrael as they slammed, bolted, and barred the door behind us. Then Indigo hit the door outside and he sounded quite insane.

Azrael looked at the door, which was bulging every time Indigo hurled himself at it. I adjusted my mental instructions to be careful as Indigo was violent and possibly mad but to try not to kill him. I added that we were in the larger citadel prison, not the old very small one, and gave directions.

"Have you ever two-timed him?" I said to Azrael, as we stood looking at the door.

"No, never," said the king. As Azrael had propositioned me quite recently it was possible that wasn't true, but I let it lie.

"Perhaps you should tell him that?" I said.

"What was that you used to say about crazy women?" said Azrael.

"I think it was Galaia spare me from them," I said. We were both backing away from the door, as was everyone.

"I remember," said the king, "you said it was best to avoid them. Anyway, I think Indigo's turned into Isabella." I laughed, a little high-pitched.

"The one I didn't trust has turned into the one I told you not to marry," I said. "Hang out with the mad-and-dangerous, sire, this is what happens." The door crashed and the hinges began to buckle. "Galaia preserve us." Azrael tried shouting through the hatch and was nearly swiped as Indigo punched a clawed hand through the metal grille. Over the king's protests his bodyguards dragged him back. I knew what to do. It was time to run away.

"Fall back, everyone," I said, "help's coming. I sent a message to every telepath in the citadel to assist the king. They'll all be raising the alarm and getting down here." I didn't say that we were in a bad situation, several floors below ground, nowhere to run to. From the eyes of Azrael's guards and the prison ones, I could tell they knew it too. They wanted to try to fight Indigo, and I forbade them. Unless the king was in immediate danger they were not to attempt suicide-by-dragon.

"We're wearing mail," said one. Azrael pointed to the scar on his cheek, and showed them his wrist, where he'd nearly lost his hand to Aunt Kristen's attempts to refuel with his blood. I showed them my forearm, scarred from hand to elbow.

"We were both wearing mail," I said, "when a dragon less than a foot tall decided we were threatening her. She went through the mail with her claws in one swipe and tore us both open. I'm guessing Indigo is about six feet at the shoulder. Want to try him?" They saw sense.

At Azrael's instigation I tried contacting Indigo's mind, gently first then as forcefully as I knew how, but if I was successful he showed no sign. The door was starting to splinter.

I shooed the others away and stripped off to change shape, as big as was practical, but no wings, they'd just be a liability in the confined space. I realised changing size wasn't as painful as it had been. As bad as changing shape, but no worse. Perhaps I really was gifted, or maybe just getting used to the change. Then I began to fall back.

It was a battle to retreat. In dragon shape, bloodlust was closer to my surface. I wanted to face Indigo, rip his stupid throat out and end forever the feud he started that I'd never indulged in.

Instead I slunk past the deserted guard post and into a corridor that went two ways. Azrael was down one direction. I took the other, thinking to draw Indigo away from Azrael. As I travelled I began to be aware of the scents of others. I could smell Kristen and Young Perry. She was somewhere behind me, so was he. They took the king towards his half-brother? Someone had mentioned taking the prisoners out of their cells to the lounge.

They hadn't meant Perry, surely? Only three days ago he was caught torturing and cannibalising one of the king's friends. The one who'd now gone mad and wanted to kill me. For a moment I hesitated. Then bloody Cree appeared. He took his pipe out of his mouth and said four words.

Azrael will need you.

#### ****

I ran back the way I'd come, past the way out, just before Indigo broke down the door up past the guard post. Along the branch I was racing down, a guard was waiting at each gate. I ran in, shouting that Indigo was coming, the doors were shut and bolted behind us, then the guards ran with me. We skidded to a halt in the brightly-lit prisoner lounge, where I was horrified to find a crowd of people all sketching a selection of autumnal foliage arranged in a bucket. Kristen smiled at me. I managed to smile back.

The crowd included Young Perry, who was not only out of his cell but apparently part of Kristen's art class. There were commoners and Blood all sitting around sharing pencils. If his sketch was all his own work, the former King Bran of Lakeleas was really rather talented. I shook my head a moment, thinking I must be imagining the scene.

Azrael was wandering about looking at people's art and being the king. Everyone was smiling, it was like a walkabout at the local school, so surreal after my run down the passageway. There was no time to be tactful.

"Azrael," I said, "look, I'm sorry, but I don't think anything short of a bucket of poppy juice directly into one of his veins would help. I'm going to have to stop him. My ghost keeps telling me you're in danger."

"Indigo's mad-and-dangerous," said Azrael, looking sad. "I understand." I nodded.

"The draconium can do that, I heard," I said. Azrael put on a mask of unconcern, but I knew him well enough and could see his sadness.

"Poor Indigo," he said, "he was never very stable. You remember how he was with you when we were boys? You do what you have to do, Polo. You have my permission to use lethal force." He forgot the Royal we, a sign of his feelings. It was Azrael the man, giving his friend permission to kill his lover. Down the corridor we could hear doors splintering and hinges being torn loose. I looked around. Perry was a fair distance from Azrael and his guards. The prison guards seemed to be watching Perry and the other prisoners carefully, but I didn't like it.

Where was rescue? Why hadn't a bloody great dragon helped us yet? It had been hours, surely.

"What's the time?" I said, and Azrael looked at his watch.

"Ten-thirty."

"When did we get here? I called for help then." Azrael was shrugging, about to say he didn't know, when the captain interrupted.

"Begging your pardon, sire, it was ten twenty-three." It was morning teatime. Most people who might have heard me would be on one side of the citadel, eating cakes and sandwiches, at least ten minutes at a run just to the stairs leading down. We decided that unless any rescuers were right overhead when I called for help, they were probably at least minutes away, depending on how long it took a winged dragon to get down the stairs in a tight glide. Indigo would probably have time to kill us all, though it was unlikely he'd then escape, as our too-late rescuers would be here by then. Unless someone tried to delay him. I sighed.

"Open the door." Normally I would have been reasonably confident of beating Indigo, but he seemed to have gone genuinely mad, and was equipped with crazy strength along with the extra advantages of teeth and claws. The way he'd punched through that metal grille had been chilling. I hadn't learned to use weapons while in form. To do so I needed to keep my claws shorter, and never remembered to think them that way. It was hard enough just transforming to a specific size. I wanted to leave Azrael with at least two locked doors between him and my corpse. I said to lock the second door behind me. Indigo was coming through the third one.

"Good luck, sir," said the guards who'd come with me. Sometimes, especially in moments of stress, I became my father's son, pure peasant.

"Oh aye," I said, "you and all." Haka, I prayed silently, let me harvest souls for you. Zol, stand with me though the valley is shadowed with death, be my brother-in-arms.

The area between the doors was no more than a corridor with cells to each side. The doors were all ajar. I gave an experimental swing on one, then tore it off its hinges. Carrying it with one hand and my tail, I took to the wall and up onto the ceiling until I was hanging upside down. The plan was to clout Indigo with the door then drop onto his back.

Why had no one answered my mental call? Had I lost my telepathy? I called again, telling them that I was trying to stop Indigo, who was probably going to kill me, that the king was barricaded in the prison lounge with his half-brother, the murdering crazy one, and all those kings he'd deposed, along with his possibly-not-trustworthy aunt who nearly killed him before, so some bloody help would be appreciated.

The door below was giving way under Indigo's body thumping against it. I shifted my position to hold my door more securely, just as the door below slewed part-open, wood screamed then shattered as he came through it. I cracked the door I was holding on his head. Well, I swung it down hard. It brought him down and banged his jaw against the ground, enough to stop him briefly while I landed on his back, held him down with arms, legs, and tail, and tried reason.

"Indigo, listen! Damn it, Indigo, I lied! I didn't have an affair with Azrael! I haven't touched him since we were boys! I was-" Indigo twisted out from under me, trying to rip my throat out. I had no wind left for talking, as my enemy needed punching in the head. He was actually foaming at the mouth.

After much struggling I had a lucky break, throwing him headfirst into the wall, which knocked him out. I confess I was exhausted, bloody, and about to kill him before he came to and killed me, but thought I heard something, so stopped to listen in case help was close. It was.

People were coming from the entrance. Panting, I waited, Indigo at my feet. Lilith, in form, came through the battered door from the entrance. I dropped to one knee with exhaustion, one hand against the wall. She was as big as me.

"You idiot, Polo!" she said, which wasn't what I expected. I looked up at her.

"What happened to good on you, Polo, you saved the king?" I said.

"Open your mind why don't you?" she said, hands on hips. I fell over sideways. Whose blood was that?

"Open my mind?" I said from the floor. "Sorry, did I call you Your Majesty again? I didn't mean to."

"I was trying to tell you we were coming," she said, but more softly.

"Oh," I said, "aye, I'm an idiot." I gestured at Indigo. "He's only stunned. He's gone insane I think. Watch out, he's crazy-strong. I baited him into changing to heal himself, stupid bastard went mad."

"Immobilise him," said Lilith to one of the Dragon with her. "Get some chains from the guard station. He's the Sutherland who took draconium." The man ran back towards the prison entrance. Lilith helped me up. I didn't seem badly wounded, but I couldn't see all of me. "Are you injured?" she said. I shook my head.

"Don't think so. The king's through there." I pointed at the door behind me. "They're all locked in."

"Everyone's fine?" said Lilith. I nodded. A man ran up with manacles and put Indigo in a severe hogtie. Indigo came to and began thrashing about. I jumped back and dragged Lilith with me, one arm around her waist.

"Immobilise him, I said!" she shouted. "Double what you've done. Another idiot." I wasn't sure who she meant, and the other Dragon had run off, but then she went on. "Trying to change the first day he took draconium. He should never have taken it, not stable enough." Indigo snarled at her. She sniffed at him, and said, "See what your idiocy has done, Polo Shawcross?" I wasn't going to take the blame. My idiocy did many things but it wasn't responsible for Indigo. I didn't let go of her waist.

"My idiocy?" I said. "I thought this was Azrael's?" She draped an arm on me.

"If you hadn't put the notion in their bloody heads about taking draconium to become shape-changers, none of this would have happened." She had a fair point. "I should skin you alive." I was pretty sure she was joking. Gods, I was enjoying holding her. I wasn't sure if she was holding me up but was pretending she wasn't.

"If you're going to skin people alive," I said, "I should make it clear I didn't instigate this, and did not suggest Azrael should take it. I thought Saraia might kill herself over her injuries, and mentioned the idea to her."

"I don't actually skin people alive," Lilith said. "Idiot." She shook herself. "That's not my style." She smiled. "If you kill them, they don't learn."

"Oh?" I said. "Good." I was rather enjoying being legally this close to the queen, hoping that last comment was a joke and she was flirting with me, but I was bleeding on her red hide. "Sorry," I said, "I'm staining you. We should get the king out." Cree appeared again.

_Azrael needs you, Polo. Time to run._ A blast of adrenalin mobilised me out of the post-fight spacey feeling. I let go of Lilith and began pounding on the next door, shouting.

"Open the door, now! The king's in danger!" The various Dragon with Lilith got me out of the way and broke down the door just as the next one was opened. We hurried towards it, all talking at once. Us coming in the door distracted everyone.

#### ****

## Chapter 44 – Remembering Virginia

Everyone was distracted except Young Perry, who had been waiting for the right moment. As a trusted prisoner, Aunt Kristen had a pair of good long-bladed scissors. Perry snatched the scissors, knocked Kristen into a guard and went for Azrael. Perry was surprisingly fast for someone who was as wide as he was tall, about five-feet-six. He stabbed the captain of Azrael's guard in the eye, yanked the scissors out, used his weight to send another man flying and was on Azrael, who went over backwards with Perry's massive body across his legs. I sprang for Perry.

Several people were in my way but they tried to get out of it. There were seconds where Perry was stabbing at Azrael's belly, trying to reach his chest and head, and I was blocked by bystanders.

In the end, Lilith and I moved fastest, dragging Perry off the king. Azrael had armour under his clothes as usual and was thankfully unhurt. Holding onto Young Perry was hard, like trying to hold a blancmange. Mindful that I mustn't kill him, I tried not to dig my claws in. Lilith and I put him in wrist-holds, forcing him to kneel.

Perry began to shout that it wasn't his fault, something he always did when caught. Spittle was flying as he accused Azrael of usurping the throne. The captain who'd been stabbed in the eye was dead. At the same moment, Lilith and I cranked up the holds and told Perry to shut up.

"Good lad," said Lilith to me, and I felt inordinately proud. "Now stand back," she said, "while I kill him." I didn't. I put my free hand on her wrist instead.

"I can't allow that," I said. She frowned, then spoke softly,

"Let me mind-speak you, Polo, please?" So I did. She showed me a vision, a future seen. It was palpable, visceral, and scary. The vision was of Perry, a little older, trying to kill Azrael again, and finally succeeding, but not before he'd split the kingdoms with his stories that Azrael was not his father's son. So many Theusians would die as a result. Perry would also kill me and both my parents. Both of them? Even my horses. He had ground glass put in their feed, and they died horribly.

Lilith explained in quick pictures that she wanted to kill Perry now because then Azrael would live to wear the crown a few more years, long enough to keep the kingdom going as a real united one via his heirs. She pointed out that by stepping aside I'd be saving my own life as well as the lives of the king, my parents and my horses. It was the second prediction just today that Young Perry wasn't going to forget about our personal war, not until he'd destroyed me and everything I loved. I sighed.

I showed Lilith a picture and reminded her of an oath I took, to avenge Virginia's death. Virginia had been a friend of Lilith's too, and it was to Lilith, many years ago, that I swore the oath.

Lilith suddenly smiled, nodded, and mind-sent a surprisingly tender feeling of love and good wishes, before stepping back. Mind-speech was fast, the whole exchange took only moments of real time. I grabbed Perry's hair and yanked his head back. He started to protest so I kneed him in the side, hard enough to shut the bastard up. Everything went quiet. I looked at Azrael, my expression solemn.

"I do love you as I'd love a brother, sire," I said, "my apologies for murdering your half-brother. He's not going to kill my horses." People were running my words over in their heads, trying to figure out if they'd missed a word or if I wasn't making sense. Azrael started to laugh.

"You what, Polo? Did you get hit on the head? Perry's not dead." I smiled.

"Do you remember Virginia, sire?" I said.

"Of course I do," said Azrael.

"Do you remember who killed her while trying to kill me? Who was watching on the Green that morning, hoping to see me die?" Perry did, for a moment he began to struggle, but I was stronger, held his head, bent down and bit out his throat, then spat a mouthful of flesh at the closest man. It was messy but quick.

Perry was dying before he could think of saving himself by transforming, if he could. I would have put coin on him not being able to. I dug my claws into the great wound and tore at it again. I wanted to make sure the little bastard was beyond help, and I needed refuelling. Perry's flailing was lessening, and I let him fall to the floor.

Aghast, Azrael stared at me, knowing in a moment the full ramifications of what I'd done. I knew too. I wasn't drunk, though possibly Lilith influenced me, but she didn't lie. I knew what I was doing and what it would mean. My one regret, it should have taken longer. He didn't deserve a quick death, but I didn't have time to perhaps borrow Uncle Nate's people-peeler.

I put a handful of blood to my mouth. Still battered from my experience with Indigo, I needed refuelling. Young Perry had been cat's-eyed if not gifted, his blood would do for my purposes.

One could look at it as avenging Virginia's murder and the several times Young Perry had tried to have me killed, kidnapped, or castrated. I drank down the last beat of Perry's heart and changed to a different dragon shape, this time to a racier size with wings. The king was staring at me, and it didn't look like he was breathing. I was thinking to fly straight up the stairwell and out a citadel window. I began to run out of the lounge, calling back,

"Goodbye, Azrael! Sorry about the army! Put Dragon in charge, I dare you!"

#### ****

Never a fast runner, I ran for my life. That day nobody caught up with me. As I dove out the main entrance of the prison, I spread my wings and shot up the stairwell as fast as I could. The mind channel with Lilith was still open, and her amusement was clear. Like me, she thought nothing of Young Perry bleeding out on the floor. Not more than a desire to avoid stepping in his blood.

_There is pursuit_ came her thought, along with the concurrent message that they had stayed their pursuit at first, looking at the king, who didn't give the order immediately. _I kept my mouth shut and looked at the king too._

There were people everywhere on the stairs. I managed not to crash into any of them, and at the top flew round a corner, looking for somewhere unobserved. Not sure if Lilith was the only one who could hear me, I shut my mind.

Providing one avoided chandeliers, drapes, and statuary, it was surprisingly easy to fly inside the citadel. The spaces were big and the corridors and ceilings high enough. I went as fast as I dared, but the sound of wings and people shouting wasn't far behind, then finally I found a deserted and suitable nook with a window. I opened the window and marked the sill with my talons.

#### ****

## Chapter 45 - Escape

Instead of going out that way, I headed for a servant entrance across from the window. For a moment I thought I might be foiled by a door handle, but was getting better with dealing with claws and got the door open then managed to shut it behind me.

Inside I paused, trying to act casual. As if a blood-covered and winged dragon was normal on the servant stairs. Thankfully there was nobody in sight. I jumped over the balustrade, coasting down the stairwell with wings stiff. At the bottom I stopped, suddenly sure I was being followed. I couldn't hear anyone but ducked behind some heavy drapes over a boarded-up window, hoping they were thick enough to hide me from even dragon vision in the infrared. As I suspected, something crept towards my hiding place. I waited, then pounced on a very small dragon. I had her in one hand, not expecting someone so little. I was big enough that I could break her in half. If I was her I'd have screamed, or at least squeaked. She just grinned in a toothy fashion. I was almost certain it was Kristen. My nostrils flared, yes, it was her.

"Wait, Polo, don't!" Kristen said. "I'm on your side!"

"You are?" I said, trying to stop my heart from beating out of my chest. I let her go and she wrapped herself round my ankles like a cat.

"Aye," she said, "and I'm not going to hang around. They'll try to pin something on me. Azrael doesn't trust me and I don't trust Lilith. Are you going to Kavarlen?" I nodded. "Can I please come with you?" I looked down at her.

"While I remember," I said, "how did you follow me?"

"I joined the flight of dragons after you. Are they a flight?" She grinned her dragon-grin. "When they all went out the window I remembered you liked to be prepared, and you weren't prepared for what happened in the prisoner lounge." I shrugged. It was true. I was in a kind of shock, the taste of Perry's blood still in the back of my throat. "You wouldn't run," Kristen said, sure of her logic, "not yet. I admit I was lucky picking the right servant entrance, you might have doubled back and been somewhere else. Getting it open was quite hard at this size. I had to hang off the door handle and swing while I flapped my wings." She gave me a pleading look. "Come on, Polo. I don't know how to get to Kavarlen, you do."

On the run for murder, the last thing I needed was an aunt in the throes of a mid-life crisis tagging along, especially one wanted for treason and conspiracy to murder her own brother. Besides, I wasn't sure she was trustworthy.

"Why didn't you run before now?" I said. "When I heard they'd imprisoned you, I was surprised but thought you'd be fine. You could just change shape and leave any time." She sighed.

"Aye," she said, "but I thought if I was a good prisoner, Azrael would leave me be eventually, so I pretended to never have transformed since that one time. I also told them everything I knew. I was going to see if I could get a little house somewhere in town and at least enjoy my home once I had my freedom again. But he's going to have me tried in the spring." She snorted. "Not much point hanging round for a show trial."

"I thought you'd get off," I said, "to be honest. Especially now, with Perry gone. I'd have testified you didn't mean to kill Azrael or me." I wasn't sure, come to think of it, that I could have saved her. Azrael had seemed bent on a trial and she was right, like the Kavar, hers would be a show trial. Showing the will of the Dragon King.

"Come on, Polo," she said, "Azrael's not his father's son. I'm sure of it. Now that young Perry's dead, I'm the rightful heir. Even if my father wasn't Theo. The only one left, aside from Uncle Nate. Which makes my life rather difficult as to be honest, I don't want to be a queen any more." She shook her head. "You know how it is, one day I'll slip up and Azrael will know that I know he's not the real heir. Or I'll make the slip in front of one of his heirs, or that Lilith. And even though I don't care there's been a coup, I'm a dead woman." She spread her wings, emphasising the point.

I couldn't deny it. She was right. Which reminded me that I was dead too if I didn't get out of Sendren and Theus. Gods, of all the idiot things to do. I'd never been a vengeful person, and killing Perry for Virginia's sake was pointless. Though I reflected, killing him for Azrael's or my own sake wasn't.

"Come on," I said, "let's go."

"Do you know the secret ways?" she said. I stopped.

"The servant ways?" I said and she shook her head.

"No, the secret ones." She showed all her teeth again. "I grew up here, remember? There's one over there behind that curtain you were hiding behind. I could see you, by the way. You glowed." I sighed. So much for the concealment qualities of fabric. She pulled the curtain and there was a small white X painted near the tieback. I watched as she ran a claw along the side of the X and, right beside the boarded-up window, a small door only knee-high opened in the wall. I gasped. "Come on," Kristen said, "before someone comes. It's bigger inside."

On my belly was the only way I could make it through the door but, as promised, the crawl-way opened out to a passageway. I could stand and move. Kristen went back to re-arrange the curtain and shut the door. The secret ways weren't as wide as the servant ways, nonetheless usually enough for us to walk next to each other. It was quite dark but we both had good night vision, especially in form. I reckoned for serious exploring one would need a lantern, some of the side-ways I saw seemed too dark even for us.

After a while, being so small, Kristen was tired trying to keep up with my stride, so I put her on my shoulder. That didn't work because of her substantial weight despite her tiny size, which meant I needed two shoulders. We ended up with her over the back of my neck. All the jogging Fenric had made me do paid off, as Kristen directed me for what seemed like miles through the walls of the citadel, getting down when she caught her breath and asking for a ride when she was tired again.

"We're off the main track now," she said, pointing at undisturbed dust on the floor. "The only people who've been down here in the last fifty years were Perry and me. My brother, I mean." She was on the ground for the moment.

"Aye," I said, "Azrael and I always meant to explore, but life had other plans."

"Isn't it the way?" she said. "Left here, but if we went that way," she pointed her tail down a cross-corridor, "there's an amazing gallery not far along where you can overlook the Throne Room. The acoustics are designed so you can hear everything. Do you know anyone whose life went to plan?" I laughed.

"I can't even get a week to go to plan. We might have to get jobs, you know. In Kavarlen." She paused and looked up at me.

"Jobs? How novel. Perhaps I could teach art. Wait, is my jewellery still in your rooms? I received a message it had arrived, and asked your man Bernard, who was the one who'd signed the note, to hold it for me for the time being."

"Then it will be there." She headed off again, feet pattering.

"Excellent. I'll borrow some kind of bag for those. I'm too small to carry much, but I think I can manage my jewellery. Though you can be any size, eh Polo Shawcross?"

"I'm not sure," I said, "but aye, a few sizes. Wings or without." I apologised for not telling her before, explaining how when you went away from your natural form it hurt even more than shape-changing. "Small's not very natural for me, hurts a lot." She looked thoughtful.

"So it would be agony to try to disguise your eyes?" She gestured at her own, the distinctive Westwych blue with the scattering of diamond lights. Just the thought made my own eyes water.

"I've never tried to change them deliberately." I tried not to think of the consequences of either panic or failure.

"If we can," said Kristen, "we should try it." I nodded.

"I know a few Dragon whose eyes are naturally very distinctive, and they can adjust with a blink, so it's possible."

"We could escape as peasants quite easily," said Kristen, "they're not looking for peasants."

We decided to find food, change our eyes, our hair if we could, grab a few items of value and some clothes, then run to Kavarlen. It was an advance on my simple idea of just running. Kristen knew the way not just to the Queen's Mews, but to my surprise, all the way into my suite.

"You don't know?" she said. "About the history of the Mews? Most recently this was my room. Next door, where Azrael is, that was his father's." There went my theory that old King Theo was making a joke about queens when he put us in there. Though I was in what had been his daughter's room. It wasn't that I really minded what Theo thought, but if he was making a joke I wanted to get it. Kristen was off in her own memories. "Well," she said, "I suppose it was my brother's room, not Azrael's father's. If the late Perry was my brother, which seems unlikely. But we're still first cousins."

"Did you get a chance to ask Aunt Rose?" That was her mother, the late king's widow.

"No, but when I wrote to ask about who my father really was, she suddenly left the citadel. Told everyone she was retiring to a temple somewhere in the south away from public life, so I'm guessing the gossip was right."

"Shame," I said, "that she didn't tell you herself."

"Aye," said Kristen, "but I don't mind. I don't really care who my father was. I'm me." She giggled. "Just wish I'd realised that as a teenager, it would have made life much easier."

"Aye," I said, "that I can relate to." We exited the secret ways through an ingenious swivel-stone that let us out an adult-size opening into one side of the giant fireplace at one end of my suite's main sitting room. Kristen bared her teeth.

"Handy, eh?" she said. "Come on, let's get fuelled up and figure out what to do."

#### ****

The suite was deserted, everyone probably at lunch. Kristen and I were desperate for food. Food was sustaining, better in the long run for changing than blood. Blood was for when you needed draconium for healing wounds, battlefield emergencies, or an added fillip, perhaps during murders preceded and followed by a quick shape-change.

Did I really just kill Young Perry? I had and needed to get out before Haka noticed I was still hanging around and the goddess decided I was too cocky. This was always how criminals and outlaws were caught, pushing their luck because things were going well.

I led the way into the servant quarters, where Bernard usually kept at least snacks. There was fresh bread, butter and cheese, the remains of a large pork pie and chocolate cake, along with some jugs of water. We ate everything and drank a fair amount of the water. I sat on Bernard's bed, Kristen on his night table.

"Right," I said, "I'll go first, I've done this before. Just leave me, I may be in some pain. I'm going to try to change into someone a bit like my man Bernard." I forgot that a naked middle-aged man suddenly appearing in front of a queen might not be protocol, and was soon too busy trying not to scream to consider the etiquette, and then I passed out.

I regained consciousness lying on the floor, with a small but very heavy dragon with a worried expression standing on my chest. I blinked, coughed and she jumped onto the bed.

"Sorry," she said, "for a moment I thought you were dead. By the way, your eyes are plain brown." I stood up, a little shaky. It felt strange to be shorter, carrying a bit too much weight around my middle. I looked at my hands. Not my hands. I was afraid for a moment. Gods, how had Stefan done this for years? And into a woman? No wonder about once a week he changed back to his own form to make sure he still knew how. "Well," said Kristen, "let's see if I can do it." I had to muffle her against my chest and she did cry, but in truth when I woke up on the floor I'd been suspiciously damp around the eyes.

"Let me see," I said finally, and she opened her eyes. An unremarkable pair of brown eyes looked up at me. "Galaia preserve me," I said, "you did it." Kristen didn't look herself, her hair greying and shorter. Was that her body? She seemed smaller. We were both up and looking at our eyes in the mirror when we suddenly became embarrassed at being naked. It wasn't that we wanted to have sex with each other, just that as men and women naked with each other we didn't know how to behave, so it was naturally uncomfortable.

I checked Bernard's wardrobe and found some clothes. With any luck, we could both fit into something of his. "The citadel's going to be in lockdown," I said as we dressed, "I'm not sure what to do. Should we hang around and hide a couple of days until it calms down? I'd rather not. Someone in the Dragon contingent might be able to tell who we are even without our eyes." She nodded. I hadn't mentioned my abilities to sniff people out, Dragon or not, but assumed there must be others with the gift. Indigo had been shouting about being able to smell me and I remembered Virginia saying that Dragon could tell if someone had Dragon blood. I could now tell Stefan, no matter who he was pretending to be, but he'd hidden in Sendren for years as Nanny Black, so my ability didn't seem to be a trait common to all Dragon, being able to tell exactly who someone was.

"There's a way out I know, under the wall," said Kristen, fluffing her hair. "My brother and I only did it the once, but it was quite passable. We'll need a-"

"You two just stop right where you are." It was Bernard, armed with a long metal shoehorn, understandably thinking he had burglars. "I'm a veteran, and I'll be happy to take the pair of you on."

"Bernard," I said, smiling, then remembered I was different. "Bernard, it's me, Polo. I killed Young Perry and I'm on the run."

"Prove it, Your Grace." He must be half-believing me, or he wouldn't be using the honorific. I frowned.

"Oh, Bernard, how can I? I know we just hired a new man to do nights. That veteran, friend of Fenric's. You know I never remember what your title is. And I don't know what I'm paying you. Though I need to remind you as I'm not duke anymore, you may need to seek alternative employment. I had just given you a new title and a raise, you were thinking about a personal assistant, and I had just drafted you. I'm really sorry about that by the way, as now I'm on the run so I'm not sure what your status is." His lips had begun to twitch when I mentioned drafting him. "Wait," I said, "you just won a bet on me! You can retire." He sighed.

"Gods," he said, "nobody talks like you do, Your Grace." He looked at Kristen. "Do I know you?"

"I think we've met," said Kristen, smiling pleasantly, "gods, must be thirty years ago. Do you remember a party in Queen Rose's rooms where you were serving wine? You gave a watered taste to a ten-year-old princess." Bernard raised his eyebrows. Gave a little bow with his head.

"Highness," he said, "or rather, Your Majesty. How lovely of you to remember me." Kristen smiled. "It was before I did my stint in the army," he added.

"I felt so grown-up," said Kristen, "you made my day." Bernard smiled and said,

"You've made mine, ma'am." I blinked. Unless I missed my guess, they were flirting.

"I'm not a majesty any more, by the way," said Kristen, "technically I think I'm Duchess of Joban, but I'm outlaw, so just Kristen Westwych. Please, call me Kristen."

"Always thought it was a beautiful name," said Bernard, and introduced himself. Kristen smiled and took his hand briefly.

"Right," I said, "don't like to interrupt, but we're on the run."

"Indeed," said Bernard, turning his attention back to me, "and well done, Your Grace. Everyone's terribly pleased about the demise of Young Perry, though of course it's unfortunate you're going to have to run all the way to Kavarlen to be safe. They're saying you bit his throat out." I nodded.

"Couldn't be helped, Bernard. The queen was going to do it." He looked at Kristen and I hastily corrected myself. "Not this one, the Dragon Queen. Seriously, I know you're not fond of Herself, but the kingdom needs Lilith. I'm dispensable." To my surprise, Bernard just nodded.

"Sensible of you, Your Grace. The king and the kingdom will be better off." I began to splutter. "Not a judgement on you, Your Grace, just that without Young Perry in the way it's easier for the king." Nobody said the obvious, that with me gone it was also going to be easier for the king, for many reasons. "As you look now," continued Bernard, "can I suggest I find you some staff ID's and we take you out the front gate? Servants and commoners can leave. They're looking for Dragon or Blood." I wasn't sure.

"I don't want to get you in trouble, Bernard." He smiled.

"I'm coming with you, Your Grace. I like working for you. And even in Kavarlen you'll need capable people." I heard the noise in the sitting room as Bernard suddenly held a finger to his lips. "Stay here," he said softly, "I'll be back."

He was, with Fenric. Who refused to believe I was me so I brought up a certain woman we'd shared and convinced him.

"We have to get you out of here, idiot," said Fenric, looking over his shoulder, "they're bringing in dogs to check the place. They found out Perry got back in through an unmapped secret way, and Azrael wants it gated. I thought you were long gone."

"What's happened to Indigo?" I said, remembering what had triggered the whole mess.

"He's back in the infirmary," said Bernard, "under sedation. Chained to the bed, I gather."

"I'll have to leave too," said Fenric, "if they track you here, they'll know I was here."

"That's nonsensical," I said, "you're always here, you work for me." He shrugged.

"Aye, so I'm coming too. I presume you've got enough gold in this suite for a running away fund? I'm not staying. Azrael will guilt me into being a general, besides you drafted me and I don't want to be in the bloody army."

"We can't all run," I said, "not without more coin."

"There's a generous amount for one person," said Bernard, "and of course there are the Queen of Joban's jewels. I have some funds here and more put away in the bank in town."

"We don't want to cut into your retirement fund, Bernard," Fenric said. "We could go via Starshore. Polo has a running-away fund." True, there was enough in my cave to start a number of running-away funds. "You going to try to take your horses, Polo?"

"I don't know," I said, thinking I wanted to. Leaving them behind didn't seem right. "Why are you doing this, mate? Really, Fenric, you're Lord of Idriss, you shouldn't come." He grinned.

"I'm copping out, like you. Running away if you like. Had enough of Westwych's and their silly business, if you'll excuse me." He nodded to Kristen. "No offence." She smiled and I laughed.

"Scouts learn to run away," I said, "live to fight another day."

"Exactly." He smiled. "I'm rather looking forward to it. I'm very bored with Court. So which way will they expect you to run? West?" We all thought that was likely. "Let's go to Starshore then up the lake. Are your horses broken to a cart?" I shrugged.

"They'll do what we ask."

"Pity we can't take the _Lady of Starshore_ ," said Fenric.

"I'm thinking find a ship on the west coast," I said.

"Here's a notion," said Bernard. "We could travel as the household of the Lord of Idriss. As if we're taking a trip to your new home, Fenric."

"I want my horse," said Fenric suddenly, "from the stables here."

"Perhaps," said Kristen, "we should get out of Peterhaven." Just then Ross and Archie walked in.

"There you are," said Ross to Fenric, glancing at the rest of us. "Himself's disappeared, Fenric, praise Zol. We're heading to lunch, coming?" Fenric raised his eyebrows at me. I shrugged.

"I'm deserting and going to Kavarlen," said Fenric, matching their tone, "coming?" They looked at him. Looked at Kristen, Bernard and me again.

"Can we have lunch first?" said Archie. Fenric nodded at me.

"If these two don't know you, Polo," he said, "it's a decent disguise." There were more expressions of surprise and more verifications of my identity. So far everyone was just pleased to see me and glad over Young Perry. I was relieved. If I ran into anyone who didn't think that Perry had deserved that particular Unfortunate Accident, I might end up hung after all.

"You're going by road to Starshore?" said Ross. He rolled his eyes. "You're not thinking, any of you."

"We're not?" said about four of us. He shook his head.

"Archie, Fenric, you two have access to a shuttle. You could take us for a joyride or even some kind of reconnoitring, because with Polo disappeared, as his staff we're running the army. We won't be for long, of course. By tomorrow someone else will be in charge, and now you mention it, I'm deserting too." Ross nodded to me. "You told me those shuttles can cover three kingdoms in minutes. We'll go to Starshore then Kavarlen, leave you there, get the shuttle back before the end of the day and meet you in Kavarlen at our leisure."

"Gods," I said, "you're right, we're not thinking." I looked at the others. "So, shall we go to Starshore for lunch? The news won't be there yet, we can grab food, clothes, even my horses, be out of there inside the hour."

Everyone nodded. "Let's get anything we need from here, quickly." Fenric bolted off to get his horse, Ross with him. Bernard made a quick run to the town bank. I collected a knapsack, stuffing it with a change of clothes, items I was fond of and some coin that was mine.

#### ****

## Chapter 46 - The Duke of Nowhere

Getting the shuttle was easy. Nobody was expecting the possibility of theft. Archie was granted permission to take a party up to the Northern Front to reconnoitre. Moving across the citadel was likewise easy, as Kristen and I just walked along the servant ways with Bernard and nobody even looked at us twice.

About thirty minutes later, everyone in our party was crossing the Green, nearly at the shuttle, Fenric and Ross leading horses, when someone hailed Fenric. We managed not to jump, and Fenric looked around.

"It's your mother and father," muttered Fenric, "Galaia preserve us." He turned to them and smiled. "Tess, Evan, hello! Sorry, we're just-" Mother didn't let him finish.

"Fenric," said Mother, hurrying up. "Praise Galaia we found you. He's drunk!" Fenric's horse snorted and tried to back away. I knew just how he felt.

"I'm not drunk, you cow," said Father, "I caught you going through his desk. There's a rumour Polo's on the run, Fenric." He shot a filthy look at Mother. "I told her it's not true. She wants to know who his heir is." We others were all frozen. I tried for casual, ran a hand through my hair. Suddenly Mother and Father both looked at me. Mother nudged Father hard.

"I know," he said to her. "I'm not drunk and I know my own son." So much for my disguise.

"Polo," said Mother, "what in the name of Thet are you doing?" I looked around, worried someone would hear her.

"Shush, Mother, please keep your voice down. It's a long story. I'm in disguise. I killed the ex-Crown Prince and I'm on the run. I'm going to Kavarlen. Sorry. Please apologise to Grandmama. I did it because Young Perry would never have let us be. Not me, not you two, not Azrael."

"I told you!" said Mother. But not to me, she was talking to Father.

"Nobody's trying to kill you, you idiot," said Father. "Tell her it's all in her head." As usual, a few minutes with my parents and I was completely bewildered. Judging by everyone else's faces, I wasn't alone.

"What?" I said. "Look, we need to get on this shuttle, walk with us. They'll hang me if they catch me." Azrael had done what he could to save me, I was on my own. Though not literally. "So Mother, who's trying to kill you?"

"I didn't want to worry you, dear," said Mother. "But someone shot a crossbow at me." She looked at Father, as if he might be the culprit.

"Did you report it?" I said.

"Aye," she said, "to the local polis. I didn't tell you because, as I said to them, you're a busy man nowadays and I was sure they could find the chap. He was very distinctive. Half-dragon. I mean half." She gestured down her middle. That was disturbing news.

"Mother," I said, "have you seen Indigo Sutherland?"

"Azrael's little friend?" she said. I nodded. "Not lately, but this chap had scales down half of him, darling, aren't you listening? Though he did have blonde hair on the other half." She shrugged. "I didn't see his eyes, really. I was busy ducking. He tried to shoot me as I came home with shopping. I threw it at him and the bow went off. The bolt went into the wall at Miz Tine's. Flour everywhere. Did I tell you about Miz Tine, darling? She's the one whose husband-"

"Mother!" I said. "The man who tried to shoot you, what happened?"

"Oh he ran off, dear. He only had one wing, couldn't fly. I thought he'd be easy for the polis to find."

"Bloody fairytales," said Father, "what kind of dragon only has one wing?"

"Indigo Sutherland," I said, which shut Father up. "He managed to turn half-dragon."

"And nearly killed your mother," said Ross.

"Aye," I said, "then Perry got hold of him and nearly tortured him to death. I tried to help him but he just tried to kill me. Though he has turned all dragon. Now he's in the infirmary. Sedated, chained, and under guard." I looked back across the Green. I hoped Indigo was sleeping peacefully. "He was supposed to be pining in one of the towers, but he's mad-and-dangerous and been shooting crossbows at you."

"Aha," said Father, snapping his fingers as if he'd figured something out. "Indigo, eh?" I looked.

"What?" I said. Father waved a hand, as if it was nothing.

"There was another attempted shooting," he said. "Down at the Old Fort. Just after that Blood Council."

"Indigo wasn't at the council," I said. "He took draconium that morning and was in the infirmary. He tried to change shape and got stuck halfway." Father shrugged, as if it was nothing.

"Two days later?" he said, looking thoughtful. "Yes, two days. I was nearly hit by a bolt. There were people everywhere. We thought it could have hit anyone."

"What?" I said.

"Someone dropped a loaded crossbow in the archery area," said Father, "at least so we thought. It came all the way to the pits where I was. It happens. Only whoever it was ran. We made a joke out of it. Nearly accidentally shooting the new field marshal's da, no wonder the poor bastard ran." He shrugged. "Never occurred to me anyone was trying to kill me."

"Anyway," said Mother to me, with a scornful look at Father, "if you're on the run, darling, you'd better get on. I was thinking your heir was trying to kill me, which is what Father and I were arguing over. I have to say, Fenric, you did have motive." I tried not to laugh. Fenric, who on paper was still my heir, blushed. He was blushing because he and Mother had a one-night-stand many years ago. Then it dawned on me.

"Gods," I said, "you two can't stay here. Nobody knows Indigo tried to kill you. And nobody's going to listen after I had a fight with Indigo then killed the former heir to the throne. You'd better come with us." Mother and Father were looking sourly at each other.

"Now look what you've done, Evan," said Mother, "we're being deported." My father groaned audibly. I looked around. Fenric's face was set like stone. Ross was giggling and shaking his head. Bernard, and Kristen in her peasant disguise, were looking on with open interest. Archie looked like he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Pretty much how I felt.

"I think we need more coin," I said, "I might have to rob the duchy after all."

"I'm an independent woman," said Mother.

"You have a trust fund," said Father.

"You have an army pension," said Mother. I ignored them. We hustled them onto the shuttle still bickering.

#### ****

We took off, me flying. I was just setting course for Starshore when someone came out of the cargo hold with Fenric, who'd been settling his horse.

"Hey," said Natasha, looking sleepy and unusually dishevelled, "what's happening? Fenric said we're going on a picnic." We were not good conspirators. We all looked guilty, then at each other. "I was in the back sleeping," said Natasha, and then looked at the people she didn't know. She tilted her head, nostrils flared.

"Ah," said Ross, "Colonel Reid, how are you? We'll return you to the ground. Just a social outing, letting people have a spin in the bird. Had you met Polo's parents? You know Bernard, had you met his cousins?" Ross was very smooth, and we did our best, introduced Kristen and I as Bernard's relations from the north. It was a good try. That was when I found out being able to scent people you knew was something Colonel Reid could also do. She looked at us all suspiciously.

"You have about ten seconds to explain, sir," she said to me, "or I'm taking over this ship and returning it to Peterhaven." We all explained. At once. Somehow Natasha took it in, though she did stop us every so often to ask a question. "Right," she said finally, "I'm going to need to send a message back to Peterhaven."

"Oh?" said Fenric.

"Aye," she said, "my resignation. You think I'm serving under anyone but Polo, you have got to be kidding. I'm thinking I might even get you to drop me further west."

"Further west," said Mother, sounding interested. "What's there?"

"Friends," said Natasha. "Are you really his mother?"

"Of course," said Mother, "but call me Tess. Please don't judge me by Polo, as he'll happily tell you, he's not lived with me since he was fifteen."

"Mother!" I said. As ever, she paid me no attention. She and Natasha got on very well, especially after Natasha told Mother the story of how she made me bleed.

#### ****

We touched down quickly to collect my horses, then again to grab supplies and possessions from Port Azrael. Nobody at the stud farm or the castle had recognised me. We re-boarded the shuttle and I reflected that it wasn't my castle any more. I tried again to persuade my parents to leave us, thinking they could just take ship somewhere, get away from Indigo, but Mother said that would mean Father was deserting, and he couldn't desert.

"And he can't stay in the army without your influence to protect him." Hoist on my own petard, I thought to myself. Mother was right, deserters were gaoled for a long time. "Besides, I won't be able to hold my head up in Sendren any more," she said, rather pointedly, "or anywhere in Theus, seeing you're wanted for murder." She rolled her eyes. "I don't know what your grandmother is going to say."

"Young Perry was going to kill you and Father, and me," I said, "not to mention the king. I think she'll be overjoyed." Mother gave me a pitying smile.

"Sexual promiscuity is one thing, darling, your grandmother came to terms with that years ago, but being an outlaw is just that step too far-" I tuned out, noticing as I did that Mother was happy, I'd given her a reason to lecture me. Just out of Mother's sight, Natasha mouthed the word manwhore at me. I curled my lip at her, just a touch, also just out of sight from Mother. Natasha beamed at me. I was glad she was enjoying herself. Mother went on.

After a while, Father drew her fire by suggesting that my military fame might outweigh the scandal of killing a treasonous cannibal about to hang, and they stormed off into the hold to fight properly. I warned them not to upset the horses, or Ross and Archie, who were in there looking after them.

Just as we took off, we saw a couple of Dragon messengers fly into Port Azrael, presumably bringing word of the fall of the Duke of Starshore. We made a quick stop at a cave near the castle, where the Steward seemed to have thought I might need to buy a small country if I did run. Even Mother allowed it was a good idea to have organised a running-away chest. Then we were off.

#### ****

I stayed with the horses for a while. At first they were puzzled by the shape of me, then decided if I smelled the same they'd accept this new Polo. While I was making a fuss of them, the others decided we'd drop in on Captain Ernst. I only found out when I realised we were landing again. I rushed onto the crew deck.

"What?" I was nonplussed. "We're back in Port Azrael? Why?" I looked at Natasha, who was piloting. "We need to get out of here." Didn't any of them understand? "For the love of Thet! They're going to hang me!"

"We can't take a shuttle," Natasha said, and shook her head, "they'll never let us go. They'll come after us just for the machine." I cursed, mostly because she was right, they would.

"But that's alright," said Fenric, "Legs will drop us all somewhere then come meet us in Kavarlen."

"Captain Ernst is Kavar, remember?" said Archie. "He was very unhappy over the Kavar mercenaries. I think he'd take the _Lady_ in revenge, given the right impetus."

"Like me needing rescuing?" I said.

"That and gold," said Archie, sounding practical. "If you say you're stealing the ship but will keep him on as captain then I don't think he'll worry, providing we find him some wages."

"He does love the ship," I said. Archie nodded.

"Aye and he is fond of you. When you were in the army, whenever he saw us, first thing he used to ask was how's young Polo, is he alright?"

"But you resigned your commission," I said to Natasha, "isn't that a problem?"

"No," said Natasha, who apparently didn't mind Fenric calling her Legs. "Nobody's going to care I've resigned, not now. I was a volunteer with no specified contract length, so I'm not deserting. With you on the run and everything else going on, they'll come after a missing shuttle, but your Kavar captain disappears with his ship it won't matter. We've got hours before we're due back, so plenty of time to meet him, maybe somewhere just off the coast. You can fly down to the ship."

"What about my horses?" I said.

"We're not outlaws," said Mother, "we can take the horses to the port."

"You and I are the only outlaws," said Kristen to me.

"We've told you we're deserting," said Fenric, smiling, "but nobody else knows." There were five of them and five horses. The three of us left in the shuttle would keep a low profile before heading out to open water, where either we'd intersect with the Lady or some other ship the others would hire. Kristen and I would shape-change and fly down. Natasha would go for a joyride, take the shuttle back early, able to say quite truthfully she'd left Archie and the others in Port Azrael, and then she could disappear.

Everyone would be looking for Polo Shawcross, who would not be seen at embarkation. During the voyage I'd stay below decks until the ship was nearly at Kavarlen.

It all went like clockwork at first.

#### ****

## Chapter 47 – The Prospect of a Sea Voyage

We headed out over the water at the agreed time and immediately saw the _Lady of Starshore_ where she should be. Natasha took us over the ship. Kristen and I, already back in dragon-shape, spiralled down and in a few moments were above the deck. I'd warned Kristen to be careful of the woodwork if she could and to watch out for the rise and fall of the ship.

We both managed to get safely to deck-level, then Miri Westwych appeared amongst the throng. When I saw her I did such a double-take that my perfect landing fell apart and I tripped over my own feet. I managed not to fall completely. She grinned.

"What?" I said. "Miri? How did you get here?" She saluted.

"I was being a good junior officer, sir, tracking you to Port Azrael. I thought you might try for your ship. If you think I'm staying in the army with some other idiot in charge, being made to be a target on a wall? Well-" She kept talking. I stopped listening and waved a hello to Captain Ernst.

"Problem," I said to Miri, and pointed a taloned finger at her. "You're wanted in Kavarlen. And you're about to be wanted in Theus for desertion."

"Welcome to the club," said Fenric, who couldn't stop smiling, though then he'd see Mother and be reminded there were negative aspects to our voyage.

"You're old enough to be more sensible," I said to him.

"I'm old enough to be bored with being sensible," he said. Before I could reply Mother collared me.

"Is Miri one of the lasses you've got pregnant, dear?" she said

"What?" I said, quite horrified, "No!"

"Who's pregnant?" said Miri. "Not me, Auntie Tess. He's not had me."

"But you're wanted!" I said, ignoring Miri's white lie. Lies to mothers, whether one's own or other people's, were barely lies at all.

"Wanted?" said Mother.

"In Kavarlen?" said Father.

"Aye," Miri said, "let's go below. I'll tell you all about it." The notion appealed. Downstairs there was coffee. It suddenly occurred to me that unless I moved sharpish, I was going to lose the ducal cabin.

"I'll just go below and change," I said, "my cabin has some of my clothes in it."

"That's the only one with its own bathroom," said Mother, "so I'm in there." She smiled. "Such a pretty cabin. We moved your things into another one, you're sharing with Fenric in the one next door."

"Right," I said, "well, I'm going below." I didn't say 'I'm going below before I throw myself overboard', but the thought was there.

#### ****

In the cabin I changed shape to my usual human one. It hurt but the relief at being back in my self was a bonus. It felt good to be me. I put my own clothes on before heading for the lounge, where there was smoke and coffee. Everyone was waiting so that Miri could tell us all the story of how she came to be wanted in Kavarlen. It was a good story. She went to Kavarlen looking for a man she could safely mate with, being too related to everyone in Theus to risk a child. We all nodded sagely and there were wise mutterings of 'Flippers.'

After falling in love, it took Miri a little while to realise her love was a gambling addict, a bit longer to realise he wasn't going to stop, and she lost a fair amount of coin finding out. Finally, Miri's father sent coin to bail her out of debt and get her started by herself in Kavarlen, but the gambler robbed her one last time.

Home alone, poor Miri was crying when a sudden influx of rough types looking for the gambler kidnapped her. Rough types didn't live long but long enough to regret kidnapping Miri and not checking her for weapons. She glossed over the mysterious death of the bastard gambling addict, which I was pretty sure was also at her hand.

Making her escape onto the streets of Enclave with only a suitcase and a decent supply of gold coins, by pure chance Miri ran into me. I smuggled her onto a ship and it was terribly unfair that the Kavar authorities tried to search the ship, where she was hiding in my cabin.

"I had to bribe someone who realised she was there," I said, adding a bit of the story that was mine, "because if they found her in my cabin they'd have dragged me back with her for hanging. Possibly the captain as well."

"And so it's true," Miri said with a sigh, "I'm wanted in Kavarlen."

"Good for you, dear," said Mother. "Well, what was that Natasha said? More land to the west?"

"It's four weeks to Kavarlen," said the captain. "At Craginest Pool we can take on stores then sail on." I groaned. Fenric stopped smiling and looked as if he might be getting a twitch. I wanted to throw Miri overboard so we could go to Enclave, where there were good hotels, but apparently nobody else thought it necessary and thought I was joking when I mentioned the idea.

"How will Natasha know where we are?" I said, desperate now.

"We can leave a message at the port," said Captain Ernst. "Offer to come back, collect her."

"How will we know where to go?" I said.

"We will buy charts. I know a man at Craginest Pool." He looked at Miri. "And you better stay below decks while we're in Kavarlen, Lady Miri. Don't even look out a porthole, understand? Or we will all be hung for you." Miri looked meek. Captain Ernst looked at me. "That's assuming the Dragon King doesn't find us and hang us for helping you."

"Yes dear," said Mother, "you listen to the captain." She beamed. "What an adventure." I tried to smile back.

After a couple of minutes I spilled a little coffee on my shirt and said I needed to go change it. I just needed to get away. Trapped on a ship, going into exile with Mother, Father, and Miri? What kind of nightmare was this? I knew killing Young Perry would have repercussions, like the loss of my duchy and title, being outlawed, never able to return home, even a high risk of hanging, but a long sea voyage with my parents and the craziest woman I'd ever had sex with? Did the gods need to punish me that much? I remembered Isabella and decided Miri was only 'one of the craziest women I'd had sex with.'

I shouldn't be too pessimistic. There was the bonus of having my horses and a rather generous amount of portable wealth. Fenric was sharing a cabin with me, not Father. Life wasn't all bad. All I had to do was stay out of view until Kavarlen. Or Polo Shawcross had to stay out of view, in dragon shape or human. I wondered who to be. I was too tired to think properly, better to sleep on it. I wanted food, another smoke, and sleep. Someone knocked on the door. I had my shirt off, and opened the door.

"I'm sorry," Miri said, coming in and pulling the door closed behind her. "I didn't think about me being wanted in Kavarlen." I turned back to the bag I was looking for a shirt in. I realised there was coffee on my trousers too. I sighed at the marks.

"You're good at that," I said.

"Being selfish?" she said. I shrugged.

"I meant not thinking. But hey," I said and spread my hands, "if it fits."

"Screw you," she said. I folded my arms.

"I dare you," I said. She gave me a nervous look.

"If I do will you change for me?" I shrugged again but nodded. She licked her lips. I felt a familiar stirring in my belly. Oh gods. Still, everyone should be pleased, a woman my own age for a while. I unfolded my arms and pulled her to me but just held her.

"Well, cousin?" I said. She took a breath. And another. I met her eyes. "You know," I said, "according to Mother, we're more related than I thought, we'd definitely make a kid with flippers." She gasped. Her pupils dilated a little.

"Close cousins?" she said. I grinned.

"Only once removed." I thought it was third cousins, once-removed, but wasn't going to tell her. That was almost unrelated by Miri's standards.

She bit her lip. I could feel the heat of her body through her clothes. Suddenly, I gave up the game. I stepped back as far as I was able in the cabin and dropped my trousers. I'd dressed in a hurry, no underwear. "If you want do me, Miri, do me. Just me." And she kissed me. I was already naked, I didn't need much encouragement.

"I've never done you," she said as she broke the kiss. It was true, she hadn't. I'd never been sober and she was always playing some mind-game. "I think I'd like to."

"Miri," I said, "not that I don't appreciate it, but why now?" She smiled.

"Well, it's something to do. I can't do the sailors. Or your father." Gods, I thought, Mother would kill her. Though I also thought Miri might kill Father. "Your bodyguards are scared of me," she said, "though Fenric's sweet, but he and Natasha are a thing. I don't step in there unless I'm invited."

"They are?" I said. Miri looked wise.

"She lets him call her Legs." I nodded. "She calls him Muscles."

"Noticed that," I said, "I did think it might be a sign." Miri smiled up at me. She was short, barely five feet. Her black hair fell loose past her shoulders, and her eyes were Westwych blue, a dark shade of sapphire with a scattering of crystal stars. Her body felt firm against mine, except for the softness of her breasts. I was definitely hard against her and was rapidly running out of reasons not to spend the rest of the afternoon with the deliciously perverted mind and body of Miri Westwych.

"So, shall we?" she said. I came to my senses.

"We'll need a condom." More than one, but one would do for now. She nodded.

"Your mother said there are boxes of them in the ducal bathroom."

"Perhaps you could fetch some," I said, "seeing you still have your clothes on." She bounced off, shutting the door behind her, and I wondered what I was doing. I no longer cared. I was Polo Shawcross, the notorious outlaw. Sex with my cousin was nothing. I ate babies for breakfast and decapitated their mothers for morning tea.

The door opened suddenly and I just had time to grab a pillow off one of the bunks and hold it in front of my groin as Mother barged in.

"Damn it, woman!" I shouted. "You learn to knock, then wait until I say you can come in or I swear to Zol I'll throw you overboard!" Mother was surprised, both by me shouting and at me being offended that she hadn't knocked.

"It's not like I haven't seen it all before, dear. Besides, how was I to know you were naked?"

"You don't," I shouted more, "so don't bloody come in unless I say!" Who was I kidding? The notorious Polo Shawcross was fifteen again. Trapped with my parents, the last six years a dream, except for time in the army, which though surreal, was more of a nightmare. Mother shouted back,

"I was just telling you afternoon tea is ready!"

"You can say that from outside! Now bugger off!" She disappeared, leaving the door open. I could see Miri, approaching cautiously now Mother was gone.

"You probably need some lunch," she said, and waved a couple of condoms in one hand. "These will keep." I sighed.

"Aye, I'm a bit low on energy."

"Put some pants on, we'll get some food." I was still holding the pillow. She shut the door and brought a large box of condoms out from behind her back. "Stash these, your mother's likely to throw them over the side." She stood on tiptoes and gave me another kiss. Slid her hand down behind my pillow and squeezed. "And then we'll spend the rest of the trip in bed."

"Thanks, Miri," I said.

"What for?" she said, looking amused.

"For being nice to me," I said, "you don't have to be." She laughed. Let go of my cock and kissed my cheek.

"I'm being nice to me, Polo. Just that it works out nice for you too." I laughed too.

"I'll get dressed," I said.

"I'll tell Auntie Tess you'll be right along." She smiled. "It'll be fun. Your mother will be angry at us for having sex every chance we get. Your father will bait her for being unfair to you, they'll fight and only have time for each other. Which will mean Fenric, Archie, Ross and the captain - not to mention the crew - don't have to put up with your mother trying to seduce them. And I don't have to cope with your father's advances, which your father will make to spite your mother if she does anyone on board." I raised my eyebrows.

"I hadn't thought of that," I said, "well done." She looked smug.

"Experience," she said, "my parents are exactly the same."

"Really?" She shuddered.

"Aye," said Miri. "So much so it's scary. We must be very close relations." She licked her lips. "It does make it hot, Polo. See you at lunch."

Life, I reflected as I pulled on some clean clothes, was strange. And getting stranger. In less than a day I'd gone from being a titled army commander to an outlaw. A murderer, exiled from my homeland forever, like those people I'd met in Kavarlen. Life, as always, might be strange, but it wasn't all bad. I was still rich, if not so much as I had been. And for some reason, Miri had decided to occupy the voyage with sex with me. A month in bed with Miri Westwych? I really should count my blessings.

I wasn't in the army. I smiled. Then I frowned.

A month in bed with Miri Westwych? With Mother outside the door, trying to get in?

#### *****

## Chapter 48 – Rescue Me

After food I went to see my horses. They were fine, having been on water transport before. I was talking to them when I remembered what Jules had said. I only had to call on her. When things fell apart. Did this qualify? Would it hurt to ask?

_Jules?_ I tried. Then again, _Jules!_ Nothing happened, and I hoped nobody looking for me had overheard the mental shout. I wished I'd kept quiet, it was stupid of me. Fire snorted.

"Aye," I said aloud, "bloody stupid."

"Why?" said a woman's voice from right beside Fire. I jumped out of my skin. "Sorry," said Jules, leaning against the stall, stroking the big chestnut's nose. "Z- I mean Cree is always saying I shouldn't just appear. But I can't be bothered with all his drama." She looked at me. "So, want to mind-send me the basics?" I did.

"Woo," she said. "I can see why you called me." She smiled. "Do you want to go?"

"Go?" I said dumbly. "Go where?"

"Okay," she said, running a hand back through her hair, "let me be more specific. Would you like me to take you, and your precious horses, away from this place, to where I live?" I thought about it for about five seconds. I had been prepared to make the best of things, but only because I didn't think I had a choice.

"My horses too?" She nodded. "The chestnut, the brown, and the piebald are mine."

"Was that a yes?" I smiled. So did she.

"Aye," I said, "for the love of Zol, get me out of here." And she did.

#### ****

One moment we were in the hold of the ship. She snapped her fingers and we were on a paved area, edged with a low fence, in what looked like a very small village, or perhaps a large farm, under a big tree. My horses snorted.

"Oops," said Jules, "I left their tack behind, grab them before they decide to go exploring." I slipped off my shirt, slipped it over Fire's neck, used my belt around Dream's neck. Jules had Magpie with a belt looped round his neck.

"Come on," she said, "we'll take them to the barn, put them in quarantine for a few days." We walked down the sloping street to a barn where we made the horses comfortable.

"Freaked?" she said to me, as we watched Magpie eating.

"Aye," I said. "The air tastes different. Where are we?"

"That's the tricky bit," she said, looking up at me. "It's not where we are, it's when. Though where is also different."

"Oh?" Then I realised. "If you are who they say, then we're back before the Great Silence." She didn't know what that was. I explained.

"Ah yes," she said. "When the starships stopped coming. You're not on Galaia and you're not then. I moved us out of there, the Yusaf were treating my people badly." I didn't find it hard to accept. I was Dragon, the product of accidental magic. Going into the past or future was as likely as shape-changing.

"Why me?" I said. She pulled a face.

"Well, you're going to hate this part."

"I am?"

"Only at first-" Someone came into the barn behind us, and Magpie whickered at him. The someone had long black hair and was dressed like Jules in trousers, boots, and a tight sleeveless top. Cree, in the flesh. "-oh, here's Xen," said Jules. "Time for you two to meet properly. Xenophon Christadelphos, Polo Shawcross." He shook my hand. I was stunned. I knew he was real, but to be where he was?

"We call him Xen," she said, "though he likes to use Cree when he's doing the vision thing."

"Have you told Polo why he's here?" said the man I now knew as Xen.

"I was just going to," she said. I looked at them both. "We need your assistance. We don't know how to fight. And you're the best soldier of your era." I laughed, feeling like the joke was on me.

"I just ran away from a war," I said.

"This one, you'll enjoy," said Cree. Or Xen, whatever his name was. "At least Jules says so and she's never wrong."

"I used to say that about you," I said to Cree. Or Xen.

"Who do you think told me what to say to you?" said Xen.

"When you appeared to me," I said, frowning, "it was because she, sorry, Jules, told you something?" He nodded.

"Yep." He shrugged. "Sometimes she wasn't too clear."

"What about the war I left behind?" I said.

"Dragon will win the war," said Jules. "Sriama will be held back for a few generations. The Dragon Kingdom will prevail." She shrugged. "Of course, nothing's written in stone, they could mess it up, but at the moment it's all looking good. The stuff you set in motion will be the kicker." I didn't quite get all of her words, but I got the gist.

"So what do you need me for?"

"We don't want those bastards on Plenty to boss us."

"Um," I said. "I know of Plenty. It's in the Alpha Quadrant. They have a spaceport there, above New Rome. They rule you?"

"Yes," said Jules, "or at least they're trying. The Inner Quadrants managed to get a kind of modified star drive and are flooding our beautiful new planet with settlers who seem to be mostly prison populations from Plenty, telling us we should be grateful. It's a disaster. Crime is suddenly common. We'd never even had a proper robbery. Suddenly there's a murder every week! It's like we're back on Earth. And we don't have guns." I was several questions behind.

"Where's Earth?" I said. "I haven't heard of it. Is it in the Inner Quadrants?" They both looked at me, surprised.

"Home, of course," said Jules, "it's where we all come from."

"Oh," I said, "Home, it's called Earth?" She nodded. "By the way," I said, "I remembered the dream, about the silver crown."

"You remember?" she smiled. "You will go back, to your time, or one just after it, one day. At least that's the way it's looking from here. First though, you'll help us, maybe get to sleep for a while." I blinked, a bit surprised she knew about that. She looked a bit embarrassed. "I read your journals. Sorry. But you closed your mind. And then I read back. I wanted to see what kind of man you were." I blinked again.

"You did?" She pulled a face.

"Um, you know how you could never find out who was writing those biographies?" I nodded, understanding dawning.

"It was you?"

"Yeah," she said, "I needed a source of coin in your time. I didn't expect it to go quite so well." She grinned. "I did get a bit carried away." I groaned.

"A bit? But what did you need coin for?" Cree laughed and rolled his eyes.

"Horses," she said, as if she was saying perhaps jewellery, or shoes.

"She's an addict," Cree said, "can't go anywhere without buying horses."

"Why don't you just take them?" I said. "Walk up to the stable, like you did with mine?" Jules breathed in, her green eyes wide.

"You can't steal horses," she said, sounding shocked. "People love their horses." I laughed.

"You stole my life," I said. "And made it into a story."

"Everything's a story," she said. "I did it to my life too."

"That I'd like to read," I said.

"You can," said Jules. "At least the first part. I haven't finished living the next bit."

## ###

## END

#### A note from the Author

This is the end of the Polo Shawcross quartet that started with The Birthday Dragon, followed by Dragon Soldier, Dragon Skin, and now Dragon Outlaw. Thanks for your company. Polo's story isn't finished. No, he probably won't escape his mother. Does anyone?

We (the writer, the editor, the publisher – yeah, me) hope to raise the money to publish these books on paper. No idea how long that will take, but in the meantime I'm working on other writing projects, and probably shouting about stuff on Twitter. My blogging is erratic.

Thanks for reading, it means a lot to me. 

What would also mean a lot would be you leaving a review. At Smashwords or wherever you downloaded this. It makes a huge difference to my books' visibility when they have reviews. Just 'I liked it' and a rating is all you need to do.

If you'd like to help out more, while finding out more about Polo and where he's going next, you can join my Patreon, www.patreon.com/Lee_Abrey

Time is nebulous along with fleeting, more so when writing. We're not making any promises about timing, just going to catch our breath. We've been writing in the dark for so long.

With love to everyone,

Lee

Enjoy

#### ****

### By Lee Abrey

Polo Shawcross: The Birthday Dragon

Polo Shawcross: Dragon Soldier

Polo Shawcross: Dragon Skin

Polo Shawcross: Dragon Outlaw

#### ****

## You can read more or contact me at:

\- **Patreon** <http://www.patreon.com/Lee_Abrey>

\- **Twitter** @stinginthetail <http://twitter.com/stinginthetail>

\- **Email** at Lee_Abrey@bigpond.com

\- I also **blog** at <https://stinginthetail.wordpress.com/>

**My author page at Smashwords** <https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/shawcross>

#### ****

