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BOOK: Vengeance of Dragons (Secret Texts)
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Anwyn made his way through the crowd that finally began to move out of the square, fighting the tide of humanity. “You don’t sound happy,” he purred. “Dear me, you don’t sound happy at
all
.”
Crispin stared at him coldly. “How perceptive of you to notice, brother.”
“Didn’t your little toy work the way you had hoped?”
“Had it worked the way I hoped, I would have been a god, and you and everyone else in this city would have been bowing on your knees to me,” he snarled. “I don’t see anyone bowing.”
Anwyn laughed, and the laughter echoed hollowly behind his metal mask. “Poor Crispin—being so clever and failing so miserably. You should have waited for us—perhaps the three of us together could have made the Mirror do what it was supposed to do.”
Crispin shook his head. “It . . . failed. Some component inside of it shattered—I heard it go—and when it did, the magic fell back on itself.” He shrugged, a look of resignation on his face. “I lost nothing by the attempt. We’ll take the Mirror home, and you and Andrew can play with it, and see if perhaps you can get it to work.” He pointed to one of the junior parnissas who had been hovering well behind the altar. “You—have that taken to Sabir House.” He jerked his chin toward the Mirror of Souls.
“Not to Galweigh House?”
“It’s too remote for convenience. I’m having the treasures from its vaults brought to Sabir House. You will have already received the slaves. The furnishings . . .” He shrugged. “We can use the place as a fortress, perhaps, or for entertainment. But I’ve discovered that Sabir House is much more convenient for everyday use.”
“I see. Just as well you’ll be rejoining us,” Andrew said. “We need to watch you better, Crispin. I don’t trust you.”
Anwyn laughed; then Crispin laughed, too.
“Trust. A concept the three of us are far too civilized to be seduced by,” Crispin said. “Trust is the domain of cattle—watchfulness the purview of the cattleman who raises and slaughters the cattle.” He walked down the steps, brushing past his brother and his cousin, and strode to his carriage. “I’ll see both of you back at the House. At your leisure, of course.”
He got into the carriage; the driver whipped the horses; they clattered out into the street.
Crispin sat with his face to the window, staring out at the people leaving the square. A beautiful young woman caught his eye. She stared straight at him, gray eyes coldly curious. He touched his cheek with his little finger, and her lips curled into a smile. She nodded curtly and turned away. Then he spotted a man, tall and broad-shouldered, with a flat belly and jet-black eyes. The man gave him the same intent stare, raised his little finger to his cheek. Crispin nodded.
A slender girl with the build of a dancer turned away from the boy who held her hand; at the sound of the approaching carriage she stepped back and lifted her chin and stared at Crispin, and her smile was feral. A quick gesture, hand up to brush a stray lock of hair from her forehead . . . and the little finger dragged for just an instant across her cheek. She turned away before he could even respond. It didn’t matter. They would all come together. He and she and the rest. Hundreds of them throughout the city, returned from the dead, invested into the youngest, strongest, most beautiful bodies available, and into bodies with access to power.
Within a week, they would meet. Within another week, they would have gained control of the resources they needed to begin rebuilding the life-pillars that the Great War had destroyed. And with the life-pillars re-created . . .
. . . Well, then they truly would be immortal.
Dafril, the Dragon who wore Crispin’s body, smiled and flexed his arms, and stretched his legs, and arched his back. He couldn’t believe how good it felt to be embodied again; after more than a thousand years, he’d forgotten many of the pleasures of the flesh. He’d have plenty of time to reacquaint himself with them, though. The Dragons were back. And this time, they intended to stay. Forever.

 

Book Two
“There is no day so dark that it cannot grow darker, and no man so strong that he cannot be crushed. Or are you immortal, Rogan?”
A
LLIVITA
,
IN
A
CT
II
OF
T
HE
L
AST
H
ERO OF
M
AESTWAULD
BY
V
INCALIS THE
A
GITATOR

 

Chapter
25
“. . a
nd that’s how we came to be here,” Dùghall said.
Kait sipped gratefully at the mug of plantain beer and leaned against the bolster on the floor. Of all the rest of her fellow survivors, only Ry was awake. He sat to her left, devouring the meat-flavored rice dish that Dùghall had offered. The rest of them were sleeping on the floor in the back room; she could hear soft snores and the occasional rustle as someone rolled over. “But that explains nothing of how you arrived here, or why you’ve changed so much.”
Dùghall smiled. He was thinner and harder—to Kait he looked like he’d been put in an oven, where the fat had melted off his body and left him tough and brown and wiry. Gone were the round belly and full jowls that were the mark of the wealthy man in Calimekkan society.
“I’ve told you how we escaped from the Sabirs, those of us who survived. Perhaps others lived that I didn’t see, of course—the House, after all, is the friend of those who know her secrets.” He shook his head, and Kait saw pain in his eyes. “I hope more live than the few that spent the night in that room with me. After the walking dead rid the House of its invaders, I returned to my quarters. I’d thought to help the Family rebuild—regain its foothold in the city. But I sought guidance on how I could best do that; I threw the
zanda,
and it gave me a message I’d thought never to see in my lifetime. I was to leave the House, taking nothing with me but what I could carry on my back and telling no one of my departure, because according to the
zanda,
there were traitors among our survivors. I was to journey in secret. I was to go home and from there seek allies to stand with the Reborn and the Falcons against the Dragons.
“So I did exactly that. I slipped out of Galweigh House unseen and unremarked and placed myself aboard the first ship I could find that was sailing for the Imumbarras. Once there, I emptied the embassy treasury, sent out a call to my adult sons to join me for battle, hired the best soldiers I could find on the islands, claimed the Galweigh ships in harbor under martial law, and sailed ships and men through the Imumbarra Isles, the Fire Islands, and the Thousand Dancers. Along the way I hired more men, stocked my ships, trained them—”
“Then you have a navy hidden here?” Ry interrupted, his voice eager.
“No.”
“No?” Kait was puzzled. “Then what happened to the ships and men and supplies?” She kept seeing herself sailing into Calimekka with a trained, eager marine force to reclaim the Mirror of Souls.
“When we reached Falea and began to add to our supplies, the Reborn spoke to me. He told me that I was to send my great force on to Brelst under the command of my oldest son. He said I was to wait here.”
Ry said, “If you hadn’t sent your fleet off, they’d be here now to help us retrieve the Mirror of Souls. Or perhaps they could have prevented the Mirror of Souls from being stolen in the first place. We, after all, were also on our way to Brelst.”
“The ways of Vodor Imrish are . . . well, convoluted at best, and his motives are rarely clear to the mortal mind.” Dùghall managed a wry, wan smile. “I suspect I’m here to help you reclaim the Mirror of Souls. Though why this could better be done by the few we have now instead of the many we would have had a month ago, I don’t know.”
“I would have sailed with the fleet,” Ry said. “To cold hell with oracles.”
“And had I done that, I wouldn’t know my niece lived,” Dùghall said, “and I wouldn’t be able to travel back to the city to assist you in regaining the Mirror.”
“I doubt a diplomat will be of much use to us,” Ry said.
“And if I were a diplomat, I’d have to agree with you. But I’m a wizard, son—your better by far, even with all your men assisting you; better than young Hasmal in there; better than my little Kaitcha here who I can see has been doing diligent study in the science since I saw her last.”
Ry flushed. “How did you know . . . ?”
“That you were a wizard? A Wolf?” His smile was sly. “I’m a Falcon. An
old
Falcon. I’ve been watching your sort all my life, and not one of you has ever so much as suspected that I was anything but the diplomat I claimed to be. I can smell Wolves the way Kait . . . or you, I suspect . . . can smell the animals creeping through the underbrush outside the village walls.”
Kait watched Ry’s eyebrows slide up his forehead, though he looked away before he could betray his surprise to Dùghall. “You’re an observant man,” he said quietly. “Observant enough that I’m surprised someone hasn’t had you killed.”
“Observant enough that I’m still alive, in spite of the fact that more than a few have tried.”
“Perhaps you’ll be an asset to our mission after all.”
Kait glanced at Ry. “When did it become
our
mission? I don’t recall asking you to help me retrieve the Mirror of Souls.”
He looked straight into her eyes and said, “I have my reasons for going with you.”
“I need to know what they are,” Kait said.
Dùghall nodded. “I’m afraid I have to agree. Sabir reasons and Wolf reasons are unlikely to mesh well with Galweigh reasons and Falcon reasons.”
Now Ry faltered. He looked from her to Dùghall, then back to her again. Kait saw long-buried pain in his eyes. “The truth?” he said. “Aside from being with you, that is? I need the Mirror of Souls as much as you do.” He looked away from her and his voice went both quiet and hard. “I want my brother back.”
Kait’s stomach lurched. “He’s . . . dead?”
“For a long time.”
Kait worded her question carefully. “What makes you think the Mirror of Souls could give him back to you?”
Ry managed a small smile. “He told me so himself.”
“A voice inside your head, you mean? One that claimed to be your brother? One that came to you not long ago . . . maybe after our Families fought?”
He nodded.
“That wasn’t your brother.”
“He was Cadell. He knew things only Cadell could know.”
Kait shook her head. “He read your memories. Such a spirit told me how to find the Mirror—she told me she was an ancestor of mine, martyred by your Family hundreds of years ago. She lied, because she wanted me to bring the Mirror of Souls to Calimekka. She was a Dragon.”
She thought his face went pale. “And how did you discover that?”
Kait didn’t know how he would respond to her story of seeking out the Reborn in the womb, or how reliable he would consider the information. So she said, “Hasmal performed a spell. From it we discovered her origins.”
Ry frowned and sat quietly for a moment. Kait felt a tiny tendril of magic curl out from his body; she tightened her shields until she could feel nothing. His sort of magic would pull its power from the people around him, and might rebound to him and anyone he involved; she wanted nothing to do with that.
“Cadell won’t answer me,” he said at last.
“That’s because he isn’t Cadell,” Dùghall said.
“So you have no reason to go with us when we retrieve the Mirror.”
Ry looked long and hard at her. “I still have reasons. I left my Family and crossed the ocean to be with you, Kait. I still want to be with you.” He looked away from her and said, “Maybe you think I’m a fool.” He shrugged. “Maybe I
am
a fool. But I’ll see you safely where you’re going. And my men will stay with me. They’re loyal and brave—they’ll be good to have along.”
Dùghall said, “Events fall into place.” His tone was enigmatic, his expression troubled. Suddenly he stiffened and turned toward the west. “Shield yourselves!” he snapped.

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