“Your mother.”

  Tam’s voice was absolutely flat. He was looking more through than at me at this point.

  “Yes, Tam. That’s what she said.” It was the third time he’d asked, though this time it was more of a statement, which was promising. It still felt weird to confirm it. “And she… I don’t know. Smelled right, I guess? I think she’s telling the truth.”

  “‘She’ being Reaper, the giant dragon who was heading our way.”

  “That’s the one, yes.”

  “Who is your mother.”

  I looked pleadingly at Val, who nodded and took Tam by the shoulders, sitting him down on a bench. “Dragons have mothers, too,” he said gently. “And their lives are long.”

  “Yeah, but…” Tam waved helplessly in my direction. “Her mother? What does that mean?”

  “It means my job of keeping you all safe either became a lot easier or a lot harder, and I don’t know which. She didn’t like my scars, and she really hated the harness. And she wants to drag me off to gods know where to raise as a proper dragon lady, which I am not at all interested in. So, now I need to convince a mama dragon that she’s wrong, that her baby is safe and happy here, and that you all are allies and not annoying complications. Because I know how I deal with complications, and it’s rarely pretty.”

  Silence settled over the cellar. There were only six of us there: besides me, there was Tam and Val, Kira and Ardek, and Avjilan. Herald was having a long, hot bath, and Mak…

  It turned out that Mak could, indeed, tell roughly why and for whom I was worried, and me spending hours fearing that Herald would either die of exposure or be killed by an angry dragon had done a number on her. She’d made sure that I was fine, specifically that I didn’t need any healing that Kira couldn’t handle on her own, and then she’d disappeared with Herald. I doubted that she’d leave our sister’s side for the rest of the night.

  I would have liked her input, but it could wait. For now, what Mak needed was far more important than what I wanted.

  “Mother dragon angry?” Kira’s halting Karakani broke the silence. I didn’t know how much she’d understood, but by how small her voice was, and how she clasped Ardek’s hand between both of hers, she’d definitely understood the general vibe.

  “She’s angry, yes. She saw me carrying Herald, and that made her very, very angry.”

  Kira lowered her head, pressing her brow to hers and Ardek’s clasped hands. “Human, riding dragon. Like horse. Bad. Bad, bad, bad.”

  “Yeah, that’s one of the things I need her to understand. And the harness was great; it did everything it was supposed to. But to her it looked like me being saddled.”

  “So… Is there anything we can do?” Ardek asked, looking between me and Kira with equal concern. “I don’t see how we could fight her. And if she’s your mother…”

  “No! Gods and Mercies, no! Nobody here is to even think of trying to fight her! If she comes here, and if you’re anywhere she might see you, you grovel, yeah? All of you! Head to the floor, ‘Oh, Great Lady, please spare our miserable lives,’ et-goddamn-cetera! Pride be damned!”

  “But Tark managed to—”

  I rounded on Tam. I didn’t need the reminder, but I saw where he was coming from. He just wasn’t exactly operating on complete information, because I’d never gotten much past “Reaper is my mother.”

  “Listen very carefully. Reaper is three times my size. Fifteen feet at the shoulder, or thereabouts. Sixty or seventy feet from her nose to the tip of her tail. Her wingspan is even wider than that. I tried to bite her, and I couldn’t even scratch her scales. She breathes fire so hot that Herald described it as ‘just a brightness’ that makes stone boil. I am commanding you not to try to fight her, no matter what happens, and if you won’t listen to commands, then I’m begging you, as your friend and your adopted sister: Don’t even think about it. Anyone who tries will die. That may well include me. All right?”

  Tam stared at me, lips slightly parted, then nodded. “And… she’s your mother.”

  This time, when he said it, it wasn’t with the stunned disbelief of a few minutes earlier. His eyes softened, and the corner of his mouth pulled up just a little. There was a wistfulness about him, and a sadness.

  He’d lost his own mother when he was just a boy.

  “And she’s my mother,” I agreed. “I’d prefer if we could all get along, and I’d like to get to know her before someone does something unfortunate and all hell breaks loose. Speaking of which: how did it go yesterday?”

  “Yesterday?”

  “The announcement.”

  “Right. Yeah. Well, we didn’t talk to the lady justice ourselves, of course, but Mak said that she was both annoyed and understanding. She’d wanted to make it a big thing. Present you to the people, kind of. Had to call off a bunch of preparations, apparently. But the criers had already put out the news about some major news being proclaimed at the Palace, so, you know, the Forum was as packed as you could expect, with the weather.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Pretty much what you’d agreed, as I understand it. That the rumors of a dragon in the city are true. That the dragon is friendly, and has in fact been helping the city for months. And that this dragon, Lady Draka, should be treated as a visiting dignitary, with all the rights and privileges you’d expect.”

  “So, it’s official. I’m officially a person?”

  I’d wanted this for so long. Why did it suddenly feel so damn unimportant?

  I continued speaking, not giving anyone a chance to respond. “Did word get around? Has there been a reaction? Any backlash?”

  Avjilan straightened up, speaking for the first time since welcoming me back. “If I may, my lady, I spent all day yesterday and today among the staff and guests. There is some disbelief, and some anger, both at the admission of your presence and the Council’s acceptance of you. Most, however, already believed the rumors, and the general opinion seems to be that if there’s a dragon in the city it’s better to have them on our side, as it were. The staff, of course, already knew. They are keeping quiet about your presence, and I haven’t heard any speculation from the guests on that point.”

  “Thank you, Avjilan. Anyone else?”

  “Avi’s pretty much got it,” Ardek said. “Temples aren’t happy, but word on the street is mixed. Some worry, a lot of hope. It’s like… what’s the point of worrying? There’s stories about ‘heroes’ killing evil dragons, but the only thing people here know for sure is that you killed a shipload of pirates a while back. It’s a lot nicer to believe that you’re friendly than not, you know?”

  “Feel free to encourage that,” I told him. “Maybe I should meet your kids?”

  Ardek and Kira both froze for a second, looking at each other, before Kira went back to rubbing Ardek’s hand. “Your minions,” I corrected myself. I still wasn’t sure what their plans were, but I’d decided that they were adorable together, and I didn’t want to accidentally rock the wagon. “What do you think? Would they freak out?”

  “Not sure anything would scare those little bastards off except a hot bath. Problem is I don’t think half of them can keep their mouths shut, so unless you want it public that you’re living here…”

  “We shouldn’t meet here. Right.”

  “Yeah. But we’ve got other places we hide from the rain. I’ll just have them gather there and show you the way. Tomorrow?”

  “May as well. Early, too — just get me from here when you’re ready. I have no idea how far Reaper’s patience is going to last, and I have no idea where she is, but she promised to come find me once she’s had a good, long nap. And, I don’t want her anywhere near you all, so I need to be out of the city by then.”

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  Avjilan cleared his throat. “My lady, again, if I may?”

  “Sure.”

  “I realize it does not help at the moment, but, for the future, if you could bring me something of hers. A scale, perhaps…?”

  He trailed off, and my mouth fell open just a tiny bit. Why hadn’t I thought of that?

  I needed to talk to Sempralia and the Council as soon as possible, meaning “Without waiting for an exchange of messages.” Once our conversation was done I went back out, and straight to the Palace.

  I landed in front of the steps and climbed them with my head held high, ignoring the people scattering around me. The guards looked and smelled like they wished that I’d come during any shift but theirs, but none of them was insane enough to try to stop me. They bowed, stepped aside, and let me pass into the great lobby.

  Some poor bastard whose job it was to greet important people approached me. He reminded me of Melleti, the Gray Wolves captain I’d spoken to after seeing off the Cranes: this man was terrified, but he had a job to do, and he was going to do it.

  “Lady Draka,” he said, offering me a bow. His voice was steady, but only because it was so tightly controlled that it might break at any moment. “Welcome to the Palace. How may I help you?”

  “I need to speak to Lady Justice Sempralia, or really anyone in the Council. Immediately.”

  The man’s carefully tended composure started unraveling immediately. “That— my lady, they— the Council, that is, they’re in session!”

  “Oh. Is it an open session?”

  “Ah—” his eyes widened with horrified comprehension. “Yes?”

  “Great! I’ll just join the audience, then. Through there?” I pointed towards the two great doors across the lobby.

  “Well, yes, my lady, but it's— I’m sure you wouldn’t be— its about tariffs on trade goods, and—”

  I was already moving, the man walking quickly beside me. “Are they still arguing about dura wood and wool? During a war? Really?”

  He made this odd, popping sound in the back of his throat, as though his voice box had just given up completely, then said, “Wool and dura wood, among others. Yes.”

  “Well, then! I have some friends that trade in wool. This might be interesting!”

  At that I reached the doors, threw them open, and stepped inside.

  “—more important now than ever! What shall we make our soldiers’ uniforms from, if not wool? Shall they march with feet cold from the rain…?”

  The speaker’s voice trailed off, as did every other sound in the large chamber, as I entered. It became so quiet I’d swear I could hear the accelerated heartbeat of the man closest to me. The man was entirely frozen, like a rabbit hoping I wouldn’t notice him.

  My voice echoed in the silence. “Please, go on. Don’t let me interrupt.”

  There wasn’t a panic. That had been the most likely reaction, in my mind, but you can’t win them all. There was, however, a rather polite and orderly surge away from me.

  The chamber I’d just entered was shaped much like an indoor amphitheater. A high ceiling was either painted or covered in a huge mosaic, depicting various scenes from the founding of the city and its rise to its current modest power — or something like that. A multitude of wide windows let in what little light made it past the clouds.

  The place where the stage would have been held a raised platform where the councilors had their seats, high enough to look down at the entire audience. They sat on cushions rather than any kind of chairs, with those low writing desks in front of them. There were, I noticed, only seven councilors in attendance, with five empty seats. Busy, or dead? I had no idea.

  The other major difference from an amphitheater was that the audience section was standing room only. There were no sloped rows of seats, only a number of deep, banistered platforms with about two feet of height difference for each tier. Convenient for me, since that meant that I could casually step onto the nearest one — causing the audience on that side of the room to bunch up further.

  I’d entered at the center of the back of the chamber. It was the only entrance and exit, except for a door behind the councilors, which no one else could reach. No one could leave without getting closer to me.

  I sat down, and waited.

  “Well?” I said as the silence stretched. “I believe the topic was wool, or something like that? Go on. I have urgent business with the council once this is finished.”

  The voice from when I entered started up again, a distinct tremor replacing the confidence from a minute ago. “Yes, as I, ah, was saying, at the current tariffs we, ah— I’m sorry, perhaps this is not quite so important—”

  “No, no,” I interrupted. “I agree. Wet socks and such. Plant fiber gets cold when it’s wet, wool doesn’t. You’ll freeze your toes off at night. Something like that. Go on. Finish the discussion.”

  A voice I didn’t recognize, belonging to a small, wizened man, rang shockingly clear from the Council’s platform. “What I believe Lady Draka is trying to say, and forgive me if I misinterpret your intentions, Lady Draka, is that she would prefer her presence not derail this session. Please, Lord Falvani. Finish your argument.”

  It went… not exactly smoothly from that point on, but the debate did wrap up. The guy who’d been speaking, Lord Falvani, argued that it would be cheaper for the city in the long run to lower tariffs on wool, thus lowering the cost of keeping the army clothed, than the tariffs would bring in. I didn’t see how that could possibly be true, but I was never an economist or a politician. I did, however, remember something about the Tesprils importing textiles, including wool, so I lent my support to his argument. There wasn’t much appetite for counter arguments after that. The Council resolved to take the argument into consideration, opened the floor to further debate, then closed the session when no one brought any new topics.

  Exactly one person squeezed past me where I lay, a young man of about Ardek’s age. I was pretty sure that his friends had dared him. He apologized profusely, and damn near pissed himself when I sat up a little straighter to let him pass. Everyone else took the longest way around possible to the exit, pressing themselves to the right to gain that extra foot of distance as they exited.

  The Council stayed on their platform. Soon the doors closed behind the last human audience member, leaving just me and the councilors.

  “Lady Draka,” the wizened Councilor said. “I believe you had something you wished to bring before the Council.” The man’s voice was rich and bright, not beautiful like Avjilan’s but lively in a way that belied his apparent age. Though he barely raised it, it filled the room entirely. I wouldn’t have been surprised if it were literally impossible to speak over him.

  I saw no reason to delay. The sooner they knew, the sooner they could start deciding what to do. And, more importantly, the sooner they could pay me the two pounds of gold they owed me. “Lady Justice Sempralia. Lord Commander Barvon. Lord Exchequer Soandel. And… we haven’t been introduced. Honored Councilors? Let me get to the point: I’ve met the dragon known as Reaper.”

  “Surely the situation is not so urgent as to forgo politeness entirely?” There was a hint of amusement in the old man’s voice, and a twinkle in his eye. “I, for one, should love to be properly introduced. Lady Draka, I am Lord Speaker Berkia. To my right are the Lord Justice Alster and the Lady Justice Sempralia. To my left are the Lord Hierophant Nahasia, the Lord Exchequer Soandel, the Lady Admiral Yakamo, and the Lord Commander Barvon. Allow me, on behalf of the Council, to officially welcome you to our great city.”

  He made no mention of the empty seats, but gave me a shallow, seated bow. After delays that varied from immediate to several seconds, the other councilors followed suit. I returned their bows with the long dip of my neck that I’d adopted as my own version.

  “Thank you, Lord Speaker. I can’t tell you how good it is to truly be out and open.”

  While the Lord Speaker seemed happy enough with my presence, the looks the others were giving me were mixed. The ones I knew looked much as they usually did: Sempralia had her slightly amused smile, Barvon was harmlessly surly, and Soandel fidgeted with his robes. Of the remaining three, though, Lord Justice Alster looked distinctly unhappy, Lady Admiral Yakamo concerned, and Lord Hierophant Nahasia outright hostile. Those three had also been the slowest to follow the Lord Speaker’s bow.

  None of them said anything, though. It was the Lord Speaker, again, who broke the silence. “Now that we are at least somewhat introduced, please. Go on. You made contact with this other dragon, you say. Shall we take that to mean that it has arrived on our shores?”

  I felt a flash of annoyance. Again with this “it” bullshit. “‘She,’ Lord Speaker. She is female, and far more intelligent than you may have expected.”

  “Oh? ‘She,’ then. Have you learned anything from your encounter?”

  The last piece of advice I’d received before leaving had been from Val. “There is great danger in revealing that Reaper is your mother,” he’d said. “At least I believe so, and caution against it. Though the Council have acted mostly honorably towards you, there is a risk that they become desperate. If they believe that Reaper holds affection for you, they may attempt to capture and hold you to use as leverage against her.”

  Of course, I thought as I faced them, if they believed that Reaper wanted me at all they may try to capture me and offer me up to appease her, which… I couldn’t see that ending well for the city of Karakan, even if they somehow succeeded in taking me.

  I wasn’t above using my connection to her for my own benefit if I could, but I’d have to be careful what I revealed. And without lying, too. There were not one, but two Justices here, and one of them didn’t look like he liked the idea of me in general.

  “She’s taken an interest in me, which is no surprise. She seems to feel that I have not been treated with quite enough respect.”

  I got some suspicious looks for that as the councilors, other than the Lord Speaker, exchanged some quick, hushed words.

  “She made no mention of gold or other treasure, which I’m sure the Lord Exchequer is glad to hear. She did mention something about ‘Rifts,’ though I’m not sure what she meant by that.”

  Which was only a half truth. When Reaper had mentioned ‘harvesting Rifts,’ what could she have meant other than Nest Hearts? For me they were a constant, if manageable, temptation, so why would it be any different for her?

  “Anything else?” the Lord Speaker asked.

  “Whoever told you what to call her was only partly right. If you ever speak with her directly, I suggest using her full name: Sower of Embers, Reaper of Flames. I can’t imagine she’d appreciate being addressed by anything else. Certainly not by humans. Ah, and she’s three times my size, and breathes fire so hot it makes rock boil. Now, about my gold…”

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