Master Khondus chuckled. "Your father knows as much about dragons as you do."
"Uh . . . . What do you mean by that—?"
The Master laughed good-naturedly. "It means: 'You and your father don't know anything about dragons.'"
"Uh—."
"Regardless," Master Khondus continued, "the obligation and the duty are mine. If I'd insisted on a more reasonable schedule, this kind of flaw would be near impossible. I never should've allowed the breeding. A mistake that will not be repeated."
There was a long pause. Then Lord Layne laughed. "Oh, I
see
! Ha! Very good! I see. So
you
make these decisions now, eh, stable master? And to whom shall I deliver this important news? To High Lady Abigail, Duchess of Dávanor? The Silver Courts of Paráden, perhaps? The High Council of Lords? Someone, somewhere, will want to know that the great,
wise
Master Khondus now commands the business of House Dradón! The High King himself, maybe? King Dorómy will be interested to learn of your—."
Master Khondus chuckled, but his voice was serious. "Call Dorómy Dallanar 'king' in my presence again, boy, and we'll have words. Treasonous talk has no place in this High Keep. And you miss the point, yet again. I will speak slowly: a broodmare of Nightlove's age and configuration cannot be bred more than once every two or three years. Look at her for a moment, Layne. Just take a moment. Do you see how she gasps? See how she barely moves? That's not good."
"I—." Lord Layne began.
"Maybe this will be easier," the Master continued patiently. "How is this dragon foal supposed to fly? Its eyes don't work. So how will it fight? Think about it for a moment, Layne. Just take your time and think about it."
Lord Layne paused, as if considering, then sniffed. "Your sarcasm is unwarranted, stable master. And you shall address me as 'my Lord,' or 'Lord Tevéss.'" He paused. "And yes, it is a worthless beast, to be sure. I have never seen one quite so . . . ungainly."
"Further proof of your ignorance."
"Well, I . . . uh, that is to say . . . surely you do not think this blind worm can be of some
use
?"
The foal growled. Lord Layne coughed nervously and stepped away from it in the straw.
Master Khondus sighed. "She'll not be bred again, Layne. Not for three years. Maybe four. Take that to your father and be gone with you. You're dismissed."
"What? What do you mean by—? Now, hold on you . . . you
wait
just a moment—."
"And if you feel inspired to grow some brains," the Master said conversationally, "you'll keep your silly mouth shut when it comes to dragons, politics, and the war. I know your family's loyalties, boy. Everyone does. And you know mine. But never forget: House Dradón and the duchy of Dávanor are loyal to High King Bellános. And we always will be. Now be gone. We've got work to do."
"Huh? Well . . . uh. Maybe
you
are the one who does not understand
me
, stable master. As I was
trying
to say, I have orders.
New
orders. For you
and
this broodmare."
The Master laughed. "I don't take commands from you, boy."
"You do
today
, Master.
That
is why I am here. I
am here to give
you
orders. Nightlove has had a great honor bestowed upon her. She shall be bred again in four
weeks
. Lord Oskor Fel and his
entire
entourage fly now from Felshold with the great Irondusk. They arrive in three days' time and shall stay some months as honored guests. My father has made Nightlove available to Fel's stable masters, and
I
have been given charge of the breeding!"
6
"
F
EL COMES HERE?"
Master Khondus asked. His voice was quiet.
The foal hissed. Anna blinked and her face went warm.
It wasn't possible.
Lord Oskor Fel. The traitor. House Dradón's most ancient foe. Her family's nemesis.
Here?
The dragon foal's tail thrashed violently in the straw, as if hearing her thoughts.
"Indeed," Lord Layne rambled on, growing even more excited, oblivious to the change in the Master's demeanor. "And Nightlove will be bred to Irondusk.
Those
are your new orders. A symbolic act, of course, but still good cause for celebration. The joining of our two prized lines, at last. Even
you
can understand that. Eh, Khondus?"
The Master said nothing.
"Perhaps it is easier to understand this way: this breeding is a foretaste of the future union between House Dradón and House Fel. Does that help, great
Master
? My father has arranged it. Lady Abigail is very young, but everyone understands the need. The two great houses of Dávanor finally united! A just peace! Is
that
not cause for celebration?"
"She's nine years old," the Master said softly.
Anna wanted to look back into the stall, but she didn't dare. Her head was spinning. Her anger—her old dark friend—grinned at her from the shadows of her mind. The dragon foal growled.
"Come now, Khondus," Lord Layne said. "You look . . . well, you look
disturbed
. My father has arranged everything. Why the sour face? This should be a time of
merriment
. There will be grand parties. The great Irondusk comes! Lord Fel brings the whole of his entourage! Come now! Come! Of
course
, there have been some silly misunderstandings in the past, but that is all
behind
us now. There shall be months of celebration! A delightful surprise, eh?"
Master Khondus said nothing.
"Well." Lord Layne sniffed. "You
should
be grateful that I am telling you at all, Khondus. It
will
be a great surprise. Nobody else is to know. I tell
you
only out of courtesy."
Nightlove rumbled. The foal's growl was low and continuous.
Anna still couldn't understand it.
Three years ago, High Lady Abigail's father, Lord David, had quelled Fel's revolt at terrible cost. Now the same traitor who had defied their High House's rightful authority, the same traitor who had nearly plunged all of Dávanor into war, the same traitor who had killed their best men, came with soldiers and arms to their High Keep as an
ally
?
It made no sense.
The dragon foal snarled.
"That animal is not safe," Lord Layne muttered uneasily. "You are sure it is blind?"
"Who else knows of Lord Fel's arrival, Layne?" Master Khondus asked casually. "When does he come?"
"Ah. Well. I can tell that you are upset, Khondus. No pretending. The birthing has upset you. I understand. These things can be difficult. But you do not see how important this is. I know that can be unsettling. A soldier of your age and experience should understand these matters. These stables and dragons are the property of House Dradón. House Dradón is ruled by High Lady Abigail. Lady Abigail is young, yes. But she and her advisors are expecting an important guest with whom alliances must be made. This broodmare is a part of a larger plan. She
must
be bred. Do you understand now?"
"When does Fel arrive, Layne?" The Master cleared his throat. "You say three days. You know that with certainty?"
"Well . . . uh, yes. As I said—he is to come two days after tomorrow. No one is to know. I thought I would come and tell you because—."
"Three days. You're certain?"
Lord Layne laughed out of nowhere and clapped his hands. "I have it! Ha! You will like this, Khondus. A good use for this useless beast! A blind animal like this will fly strangely, no? It will fly
eventually
? Am I correct?"
Master Khondus didn't answer. The dragon foal went silent, as if listening.
"Oh, I have a
very
clever idea. I
love
it! I want you to clean it up and feed it. Train it. Give it some basic . . . uh, maneuvers. You know. Prepare it for 'battle.' Fel and his men shall be with us for several months. Dorómy has sent Lord Oskor two great cannon from Paráden to be offered to High Lady Abigail as symbols of Dávanor's unity. When the guns arrive, I am
sure
that Lord Oskor and the High Lady would welcome the chance to test the skill of their gun crews and war adepts. A small, weird target like this would prove
very
challenging, eh? Am I wrong? Good
use
for a
useless
thing. Clever, eh? No sense to waste the beast for nothing. And I am
sure
that my father will agree. Then we can
all
enjoy the sport. It will be the highlight of the celebration! And think on this, Khondus: It shall be better for the foal, too. It can spend even more time with its mother before it gives 'battle,' eh?"
Anna could barely believe her ears. The lordling's idea for "target practice" was ignorant nonsense, of course. But two cannon from Paráden sent to Lord Oskor by the Pretender King? If it was true, then it was war, plain and simple. What more proof of Lord Fel's treason did they need?
The foal growled.
Layne stepped farther away from it.
"Eh, Khondus?" he asked again.
The Master said nothing. Anna was tempted to look around the door jamb, but she resisted.
Lord Layne didn't speak again for a moment, but when he did, it was with a firmer voice. "Now, listen, Khondus. I am patient, but I shall broach no further insolence from you. Answer me. I come to you as your
superior
. I may not be some kind of famous dragon master or warrior or some such thing, but I
do
know a few things about these animals. House Dradón has long held the reputation for coddling the undeserving. That ends today. Do you understand, stable master?
Garbage
will be thrown out with the
garbage
, and that will be the end of it. Now, prepare this broodmare for breeding."
Anna's face went hot, her anger rising out of the dark, and she was struck by the insane urge to walk into the birthing stall and smash the fool's face with the hammer. She'd forgotten that she held it. It seemed lighter in her hands.
The foal growled.
Lord Layne coughed uneasily and scooted even further away in the straw.
The foal's growl went deeper.
Easy,
Anna thought to herself.
Easy.
The foal grunted and seemed to settle. Anna took a breath. There was no way this would happen. Lady Abigail was young, to be sure. But Master Khondus, Master Zar, Master Borónd, Captain Fyr, and all the other senior captains of House Dradón would never tolerate this outrageous "plan."
Never.
The foal growled again. The sound was even deeper this time.
"You are
sure
this beast cannot see?" Lord Layne asked. "My plan will not work if it can see. The sport for Lord Fel—."
"You're confused, boy," Master Khondus said at last. His voice was quiet. "You have no 'plan.' And the dragons of House Dradón don't provide 'sport' for our enemies. The dragons of House Dradón bring our enemies one thing—and one thing only: death. There will be no 'games.' There will be no 'celebration.' There will be no 'breeding.' And there most certainly will be no 'union.' It won't happen."
Then the Master stepped to the doorway, snatched the hammer from Anna's hands as if it were a strapping switch, and stepped back into the stall, hammer held ready to strike.
7
"
W
HA
—
WAIT
?!"
L
ORD
Layne cried, seeing the hammer.
Anna followed Master Khondus into the stall.
Layne was backing away from the Master, one palm up in front of him, the other hand fumbling for his dagger that bounced on its gilded chain. The lordling's feet tangled in the straw. He stumbled and almost went down, then righted himself gracelessly.