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DEATH COMES FROM THE embrace of lovers, and it shall be so terrible and far reaching that the sky itself will seek to hide from it.
—excerpt from Testament of the Augur
* * *
THE NEXT DAY BROUGHT clear skies and singing birds. Onin rose with the sun and arrived at the palace shortly after. He spent the previous evening on proper grooming of himself and his gear. Consequently he looked his most presentable. Hangric’s visit prepared him for the sidelong glances and outright stares he received from the Guards on duty. He intended to seek out Torreg, but the matter became moot when a junior Guard approached him with a missive.
“The king summons you, Onin Manespike,” said the young Guard. It still felt strange to Onin to use the Manespike name, although it was the accepted custom for the lower-ranked family to assume the name of the higher ranked in marriage. Somehow it felt like a betrayal of the man who had raised him.
The Guard handed Onin a parchment bearing the royal seal and some hastily scrawled writing. “Report to the private chambers.”
Shocked into silence, Onin nodded and set off with his mind racing. Like all Guards, Onin knew the way to the private chambers but had never been inside them. Most Guards hadn't unless their duties specifically required it. Onin struggled to think of a reason the king would summon him. His extended absence might be the cause, but it seemed unlikely the king would take a personal interest in such matters. Rumors of his insanity presented another possibility, though Onin loathed admitting it. Anxiety built in him with each step as Onin envisioned horrible consequences for his family. Guards whispered to one another as he passed them in the corridors, which only fed his fears.
Two Guards stood duty at the private chambers. They opened the door without returning his salute. Rich decorations and lush furnishings filled the rooms, along with Hangric, who clasped hands with his friend but did not smile. “The king is on the balcony,” he said, his expression showing no surprise at seeing Onin.
Apparently everyone knew about Onin's summoning, which was disconcerting in itself. Squaring his shoulders, he strode to the balcony. No matter what happened next, he resolved to face it with dignity.
A small group occupied the balcony. Torreg was impossible to miss. He grimaced at the sight of Onin. The others were academics Onin recognized from his days at Scaleback and two royal servants. After quickly scanning the assembled, Onin focused on the king for the first time.
A man who appeared to be in his fifties, like Torreg, was adorned in opulent robes. Wearing a jewel-encrusted gold crown, he gazed out from the balcony, a hooded cage beside him. All eyes save the king’s turned on Onin as he stepped onto the balcony, blinking in the morning sun. Torreg motioned him forward, his face the unreadable mask of a soldier.
“The man you asked to see has arrived, Your Majesty,” said the commander. The king turned to look at him finally. His bearded face showed his age; streaks of silver stood out in his black beard and hair. Bowing his head low, Onin dropped to one knee.
“That's enough, now. Rise, Onin of the Midlands.” The king spoke with a smooth confidence that simultaneously soothed fears and commanded respect. As Onin did his bidding, the king used the opportunity to lock eyes with the Guardsman. Being quite a bit shorter, the king craned his neck to maintain the stare, but it did not diminish his intensity or might. One hand rose to hold his crown upon his head as it began to slide off.
The king turned to Torreg. “This is the one I've heard about?”
“He's the one, sire,” said Torreg. His tone betrayed no emotion. “He is fairly bright, in my experience. At least most of the time.”
“And he's your son-in-law?”
“Yes, sire.”
The king stepped back to look Onin up and down. He stroked his long face thoughtfully before addressing Onin. “So what have you got to say for yourself?”
“Your Majesty, um, ah,” Onin stammered. “About my absence—”
“Did you work on my behalf and on behalf of the kingdom?”
“Yes, sire.”
“Now tell me about the dragon, you fool!”
“The dragon?” Onin found himself repeating.
“Yes, the dragon! You've given it a name, haven't you?”
“Jehregard?” Onin offered.
The king made a sour face and turned to Torreg. “You said he was clever.”
“Sometimes, sire,” replied Torreg.
The king turned back to Onin. “Jehregard,” he said. “That's an interesting name. How did you come up with it?”
“It . . . just sort of came to me, sire.”
“It seems wild notions come naturally to you,” said the king. “What in the name of the founders makes you want to keep a deformed runt?”
“I . . . it's . . .” Onin tried to formulate a response that wasn't an outright lie.
“Out with it, man!” snapped the king.
“We . . . I mean, the Manespike family . . .” Onin said in halting words. He nodded toward his father-in-law for emphasis.
“Yes, yes, I understand,” said the king. He waved his hand impatiently. “Get on with it.”
“We haven't hatched any dragons for several years,” said Onin. “It seems wrong to kill him. I can't bring myself to do it. Other than his bent back, he's perfectly healthy.”
“Doesn't he have mismatched eyes as well?” asked the king. He squinted at Onin with a slight frown.
“Yes, he does, Your Majesty,” replied Onin. “But he sees quite well, I can assure you. Especially when it comes to food.”
The king chuckled. “The verdant dragons possess legendary appetites,” said the king. “How do you accommodate his?”
“With difficulty, sire,” Onin said with a rueful smile. “I’m still working out the details. He has already stretched the estate to the breaking point.”
The king turned his squinted gaze back on Torreg.
“You never mentioned your family was in financial straits.”
Torreg inclined his head formally. “It didn't feel proper to burden you with my problems, Your Majesty.”
“Nonsense,” replied the king. “It is unseemly for the commander of my personal guard to be in such a situation. Have a look at the Torreg family finances with due haste, lord chancellor, make a note of it.”
A thin man in ornately officious robes bowed slightly. Onin recognized him from Scaleback Academy, but something different nagged at his mind seeing him in the present.
“Of course, Your Majesty,” said the lord chancellor. “I must warn you, however, doing so will present considerable logistic problems. The royal treasury lacks sufficient resources already.”
“Then find more resources!” snapped the king. “Do I have to think of everything myself?”
“How, Your Majesty?”
“How what?”
“How do we acquire more resources?”
“That's for you to figure out,” the king said. He waved his hand dismissively. “You came with a long list of recommendations, all declaring you to be vastly intelligent. It's the only reason I made someone so young lord chancellor. I'm tired of being told why I can't do something. That's all I heard from your predecessor. Instead, I want someone who is going to figure out how to do it.”
“As you wish, Your Majesty,” the lord chancellor said with a deep bow. “I’ll think of a way, but there are certain legal considerations to be discussed with the magistrate here.” With a slight nod, he indicated a short, chubby man with wispy hair. Onin also recognized this young magistrate from Scaleback. He wracked his brain for a name but failed to come up with one. Like most, he had more or less ignored the academic students during those days.
“I am at your disposal, lord chancellor,” said the magistrate, also with a deep bow. His voice came across like a well-oiled hinge. “We could start immediately if you like.”
“A good suggestion,” said the lord chancellor. “With your leave, Your Majesty?”
“Fine, fine, be about it,” said the king with another wave of the hand. The two court officials left the balcony. The king turned his attention back to Onin. “Jehregard's hunger will only grow. Thank the founders the adults hunt for themselves in the Cloud Forest. Even I don't want to pay for that. But Jehregard is going to present a problem. He won't be able to fly with a bent back, so I can't see how he’ll be able to hunt.”
“It does worry me, sire,” nodded Onin. “But I am not convinced he cannot fly. His back has straightened considerably since his hatching. As long as the muscles continue to strengthen . . .”
“Willing to risk it all on a dream, eh?” the king said. A mischievous smile crossed his face. “What's so special about this dragon?”
Pent-up feelings poured forth unexpectedly when Onin spoke. “Maybe a smaller dragon is not such a bad thing. Maybe a smaller dragon could land anywhere and be able to take flight again. I’m not certain breeding dragons for size alone has been a wise practice. I’m sorry, sire.”
“Continue,” the king said in a hard voice.
Before he spoke again, Onin considered his words, knowing they could mean life or death. “I just think a variety of dragons might be better than just a few of the largest beasts possible.”
“Excellent,” said the king. “Bring him here tomorrow.”
Onin jumped. “Your Majesty?” he quailed.
“Bring Jehregard here tomorrow. I know you grew up in the Midlands, but they do speak the same language below, correct? I keep repeating myself to you.”
“Sorry, sire,” said Onin. “It's just . . . he can be difficult at times. I can't promise he will behave himself.”
“Nonsense. I’m the king. He'll show the proper respect. Plus, I have to confess, I'm a bit of an animal lover myself. She's no dragon, but I would be lost without my Duna.”
A chirping cry emitted from under the hooded cage. The king lifted the covering to reveal a scaled creature curled into a sleeping ball. The chirping sound came from its lifted head. To Onin, the creature looked like a miniature, wingless dragon.
“Did you hear your name?” said the king. His fingers slipped through the thin bars of the cage and stroked her snout.
“Looks a lot like a dragon, sire,” said Onin.
“She is a verduri, my Duna,” said the king. He bore a proud smile that set Onin partially at ease. “Rare creatures from the Cloud Forest. They are strict herbivores and spend most of their lives clinging to tree branches. We spend a lot of time in the gardens among the only trees we have in the palace. Isn't that right, Duna?” The miniature dragon trilled excitedly. “She's also nocturnal, so we are awake most nights. Speaking of which, it's about time you went to sleep, my dear.” The king returned the cloth cover to the cage.
“Bring Jehregard to the south garden tomorrow morning,” said the king. “I'm sure the fresh air will be good for him.”
“Are you sure, sire?” asked Onin. He remained doubtful. “Like I said, he is spirited.”
“Don’t make me tell you again.”
* * *
AFTER TAKING LEAVE of the king, Sensi and the newly appointed lord chancellor reconvened in the royal offices. Once the door closed behind them, the twin described his plan for acquiring additional funds. Sensi could respond with only shock.
“There will be open revolt,” said Sensi by way of protest. The other seemed unmoved.
“I imagine so,” he replied. “But the king has made his wishes clear. He wants results, so I shall deliver them.”
“Aren't you overstepping your authority a bit?” asked Sensi. He was cautious when questioning Lornavus—or Altavus, whichever this happened to be.
“Am I? You're the magistrate. I do believe there is a precedent. The crown has authority to seize the assets of criminals.”
“True,” said Sensi. “It mostly applies to pickpockets and fences these days, but it is the law. But we're not talking about some petty fence. The Great Families won't possibly stand for it.”
“I already have the required evidence. What protest can they possibly offer?”
“So you've selected a target already?”
“Not exactly,” said the lord chancellor. “But I have sufficient documentation to implicate any of the Great Families.”
“All of them? That must have taken some doing.”
“Yes, but not as much as you might think. All of the Families have illicit dealings aplenty, and they are careless in covering their tracks.”
Sensi rubbed his chin. “With sufficient evidence, I can make the case. The punishment is draconian, though. And no Great Family has ever been subjected to it.”
“No Great Family has been convicted of corruption, either,” said the lord chancellor. “We must sometimes blaze a new path.”
“But such a risky one?” asked Sensi, worry written plainly on his face. “I understand ambition, Lornavus, but you've achieved so much already. You've acquired vast wealth. You are the youngest lord chancellor ever appointed. Where does it end?”
“We might have risen to positions of prominence, Sensi, but we’ve not changed anything. Our work is only beginning if we strive to live up to our great heritage.”
Sensi made no response. He had always viewed the twins as manipulators and opportunists. He'd never entertained the notion they might be serious about the convictions expressed by the Unknowns. He decided to leave it for now.
“Speaking of such, I have another concern,” Sensi said to broach the subject. “Our more militaristic brethren grow impatient and have concocted a plan to take direct action. I fear we are losing control of them.”
“What are they planning? They could jeopardize the movement.”
“Exactly why I am bringing it to you. They bribed one of the palace Guards recently. Whatever they learned inspired their lunacy. It is some sort of open attack; that I do know.”
“I see,” said the lord chancellor. He took on a thoughtful countenance. “I shall have to take steps.”
Sensi was relieved, certain the resourceful man could somehow defuse the situation.
“I should get started with some research,” said Sensi, rising to leave. “I want to make sure our case is on solid legal footing. Perhaps there is some precedent.”
Sensi bowed to the twin and turned to leave. As he reached out to open the door, the lord chancellor spoke.
“One other thing, Sensi.”
“Yes, Your Excellency?”
“Never again call me by name,” said the twin. “From this moment forward, refer to me by my title or not at all.”