Instantly she beat her wings hard to gain altitude, leaving behind the screaming mass. The leader struggled, but Lamprophyre had expected that and gripped her tighter. “Don’t fight me, or I’ll drop you,” she shouted over the sound of the wind in her wings. “I wouldn’t even do it on purpose.”
The leader froze. “You speak my language,” she said.
“No, you speak mine.” The female was heavy and awkward even now that she wasn’t fighting, and Lamprophyre was breathless and not interested in conversation. Explaining that humans had learned to speak from dragons, far in the distant past, was more work than she was willing to do at the moment. “Hold still,” she warned again, but the warning was unnecessary, because the human clung to Lamprophyre’s arms and pressed her face against the dragon’s chest.
She swept along northward for more than a thousand dragonlengths until she was deep within the foothills. Then she descended slowly, alit in one of the valleys, and gently set her prize on the ground. The female staggered, but remained upright. Her cap had fallen off somewhere in their flight, and her short, dark brown hair was disordered and her eyes wide. She dropped into a crouch and put her head between her knees, breathing heavily. Lamprophyre calmed her breathing as well, concealing her excitement. It had worked! The first part, anyway. Now to see if she could pull off the rest.
The human rose from her crouch, then dropped to one knee, bowing her head. “My lord Katayan,” she said, “please, spare my life.”
Lamprophyre settled back on her haunches. “I’m not your lord. My name is Lamprophyre.”
The female didn’t raise her head. “Aren’t you Katayan, that which the Immanence gave shape to rule all dragons?”
“No. I’ve never heard of that. There’s no such person as Katayan. Get up—I want to see your face.”
The female slowly stood and raised her head. Her dark eyes met Lamprophyre’s fearlessly. “Then I ask that you kill me quickly,” she said, “and spare my men your wrath.”
“I don’t want to kill you,” Lamprophyre said, feeling irritable. She thought about pointing out that if she’d wanted the female dead she would have killed her immediately, decided that would ruin any chance of them reaching accord, and added, “I’m taking you to meet someone you can explain yourself to. To tell what you humans are doing invading our territory.”
“Me?” The female sounded so startled Lamprophyre felt a twinge of uncertainty. “Why me?”
“I could tell you’re the leader of those humans. We’re tired of scaring you people off. I want you to talk to Hyaloclast and see if we can’t come to an agreement.”
“But I—who’s Hyaloclast?”
“The dragon queen. Now, do you want to ride, or should I carry you again?”
The female took a few steps backward, and Lamprophyre was about to lunge for her when she stopped and examined the dragon. “Why would you let me ride?”
“I thought it would look better. More noble. You are sort of an emissary of your people.”
The female said nothing.
Lamprophyre started to feel nervous. She had thought the human leader would leap at the chance to speak with Hyaloclast, but this female wasn’t behaving at all as Lamprophyre had expected. Again that twinge of uncertainty shot through her, and she suppressed it.
Finally, the female said, “I’ll ride, if that’s allowed.”
Lamprophyre crouched low and rolled her shoulders toward the female. Awkwardly, the human climbed up Lamprophyre’s arm and shoulder and fitted herself into the notch just ahead of Lamprophyre’s wings. “Can you see where to hold on?” Lamprophyre asked.
“It’s as if you were made for human riders,” the female said.
Lamprophyre sat up abruptly, and the female clung to the ridge of scales at the base of her neck. “Never say that again,” she said. “We’re not human servants.”
“Sorry,” the female said. “I just meant it’s surprisingly comfortable. I would never dream of you as a servant of any kind. You’re magnificent.”
The compliment embarrassed Lamprophyre. To cover her embarrassment, she shrugged her shoulders to settle the human more securely in the notch. She’d never been this close to a human before, and even though she knew from stories that humans had once ridden dragons, she hadn’t been able to guess how it would feel to have a person perched there at the scruff of her neck, like a fly she couldn’t reach to swat. “Hold on, then,” she said, and leapt into the sky.
The strain on muscles that hadn’t flown far in three days had ebbed, and Lamprophyre felt powerful, ready to catch the air currents and soar high above the smelly green ground. She had to remind herself that she had a passenger—how awful if she lost her to a roll or a dive! “What’s your name?” she called back over her shoulder.
“Rokshan,” came the reply, faint and blown about by the wind. “And you said you are…?”
“Lamprophyre.”
“Lamp—that’s a mouthful.”
“Not much harder than Rokshan.”
The female said nothing for a few breaths. “And you want me to negotiate with your queen,” she finally said.
“It’s been centuries since humans set foot in dragon lands,” Lamprophyre said. “And now you’re all over the place. I want you to explain why.”
“I see,” Rokshan said. “But—”
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing.”
They flew in silence the rest of the way through the foothills, where Lamprophyre banked low to follow the river that cut through the mountains. Green gave way to brown and then gray as they climbed to the lower slopes of the mountains, covered this early in the year with pale green scruff that felt so peculiar underfoot.
A splash of red and a speck of gold far below, tucked into the curve of the river, showed where Nephrite guarded his nest. He looked up as they passed, but gave no wave of recognition. The eggs of this year’s clutch were within a twelveday of hatching, and their fathers were even more diligent than usual in keeping contrary thoughts from damaging their young. In a few years, Lamprophyre would bear an egg, and her mate, whoever that would be, would take Nephrite’s place. The idea bothered her. She had no interest in any of the flight as a potential mate and no feeling that that would ever change.
She rose higher along the slopes. In the distance, she saw the cliffs and caves that were the flight’s home. Brightly colored draconic shapes clung to the outcroppings, sunning themselves. The air was cool and fresh and invigorated Lamprophyre. She drew in a great lungful and slowed her speed, swooping around the long way to give everyone a glimpse of Rokshan perched on her shoulders.
When she alit on the shelf outside the caves, she pretended not to notice all the attention, or hear the gasps as one by one the nearest dragons saw the human. She leisurely crouched to allow Rokshan to dismount, then gave her a hand when she staggered.
“By the Stones, Lamprophyre, what is that?” Scoria exclaimed. The elderly dragon clambered arthritically down from her perch and put her nose right up next to Rokshan. “You brought a human here?”
“I did,” Lamprophyre said. “And she’s going to stop the humans from invading.”
Grass-green scales slithered up and over the ledge. “You captured a human,” Coquina said. Her tone of voice, dismissive as always, made Lamprophyre want to push her back over the edge.
Higher up the slope, bronze Leucite rose into the air with a few lazy flaps, then descended to the ledge and disappeared into the biggest cave. The royal cave. He was going to fetch Hyaloclast. Lamprophyre’s heart beat faster. It was what she wanted, what she’d hoped for, but now that the moment was here, she couldn’t quite believe it was happening.
Coquina cleaned her teeth with her sharp sixth claw. “There must be something wrong with it,” she said lazily, but Lamprophyre knew her clutchmate well enough to recognize when Coquina was jealous.
Rokshan had backed away from Scoria’s nose, which was emitting gentle bursts of smoke—well, Scoria was old and not always in control of her second stomach’s fiery emissions. The human pressed against Lamprophyre’s haunch, but didn’t otherwise seem nervous. Lamprophyre thought about patting Rokshan’s shoulder in reassurance, but wasn’t sure that was a gesture that translated across species.
Heavy footsteps signaled Hyaloclast’s arrival. The great dragon queen emerged and unfurled her wings, and Rokshan pressed even harder against Lamprophyre’s leg. Lamprophyre couldn’t blame her for being nervous now. Hyaloclast was a third again the size of Lamprophyre, her scales pure black and gleaming like obsidian, her eyes and the fine membranes of her wings the red of a blood ruby. She stood at her full height and looked down on Lamprophyre and Rokshan both.
“So,” she said, her voice rumbling like a distant avalanche, “you have brought me a human, Lamprophyre.”
“Yes,” Lamprophyre said, sitting up tall even as she was conscious of Rokshan’s body against hers. “She is the leader of the humans.”
“And what will I do with a human leader?”
Lamprophyre met her bloody gaze fearlessly. “The humans have encroached on our lands with no explanation,” she said, “and I have brought this female here for you to treat with. You can send our demands and make the humans leave.”
Hyaloclast cast her gaze on Rokshan. “Interesting,” she said. “I don’t know where to begin. This was your plan?”
The way she said it, as dismissively as Coquina ever dreamed, made Lamprophyre’s stomachs churn. “Yes, but—”
“How did you know this human was their leader?”
“I…it was obvious. The way she moved, the way she spoke to the others—”
“And it didn’t occur to you that the humans might have more than one leader? That they don’t all have the same goals?”
“Well…” This was all wrong. “Even if there are many—”
“You don’t even know,” Hyaloclast said, “that this is a male.”
Hot blood rushed through Lamprophyre, tinting her scales violet with embarrassment. She ignored Coquina’s laughter and said, “It doesn’t matter if he’s male or female. Isn’t it better that we try to find a permanent solution than to keep scaring them away? Maybe there are lots of human groups, but this is a start!”
Hyaloclast transferred her attention back to Rokshan. “What’s your name?”
“Rokshan. Son of Ekanath.” Rokshan stepped away from Lamprophyre. “He is the king of Gonjiri.”
A jet of smoke escaped Hyaloclast’s left nostril. “So Lamprophyre got lucky.”
“I guess he did,” Rokshan said.
“I’m female!” Lamprophyre exclaimed. Laughter rippled through the watching crowd, which had grown to include practically every member of the flight. Lamprophyre was sure she was nearly purple with humiliation.
“It seems you have a mutual inability to identify each other’s sex,” Hyaloclast said, her eye ridges rising to echo her sarcastic tone. “Now that we’ve gotten that all straight, where does that leave us? Oh, yes. With a royal hostage.”
Lamprophyre’s head whipped around and she stared at the dragon queen. “Hostage?” she said. “But that’s—he isn’t a hostage!”
“I could be, if the queen insists,” Rokshan said. “I hope your honor won’t allow you to take advantage of Lamprophyre’s mistake.”
“Dragons do not deal dishonorably, but they take advantage when it’s given to them,” Hyaloclast said. “What do you offer, your highness?”
“Information,” Rokshan said. “Didn’t you wonder why there were humans in the northern wilds?”
“What humans do is of little interest to us,” Hyaloclast said. “But I admit it’s a curiosity.”
“It was a prophecy,” Rokshan said. “Jiwanyil—the Immanence made human flesh—told our ecclesiasts that human destiny lies in the northern wilds. We did not know dragons lived here. All our legends say the dragons were killed in a great catastrophe, hundreds of years ago. So we followed the prophecy. Human settlers, and the bandits who prey on them. My company was pursuing bandits when Lamprophyre captured me.”
“I see.” Hyaloclast settled back on her haunches. “And if you’d known there were dragons here?”
Rokshan gazed at her without a trace of fear. “We still would have come,” he said. “We don’t ignore prophecy. We’ve learned to our sorrow what happens when we do.”
“I see,” Hyaloclast repeated. “Lamprophyre. In your cunning plan, what did you anticipate I would do?”
Lamprophyre ducked her head. “We can’t solve our problems if we don’t know what’s causing them. I hoped you could talk to the humans and convince them not to intrude on our lands.”
“Bold words from someone who has made a terrible mistake. Didn’t you think, if you did manage to capture someone of rank, that other humans might see that as an act of war? It’s irrelevant that humans can’t hurt us—think how many innocents might lose their lives if we’re forced to defend Mother Stone.”
Lamprophyre ducked her head lower. “I didn’t think of that.”
Hyaloclast let out a deep breath. “Take the prince back where you found him. Then return here, and we will discuss the consequences of your mistake. And you, young prince—” Hyaloclast leaned over so her face was level with Rokshan’s. “Tell your royal father if humans persist in entering our territory, we will defend it. And we will not be so gentle as we have in the past.” She turned and stumped back into the cavern.
The laughter had stopped. Even Coquina was silent. Lamprophyre crouched low and wordlessly leaned over so Rokshan could mount. Then, with a tremendous push from her hind legs, she launched herself into the sky.