Dragon Coast (24 page)

But he expected this pain, and he was no longer a twelve-year-old boy. He'd made his own life. He'd taken on Sam and given him what his own parents couldn't.

What he didn't expect was the pain of seeing his mother's face staring back at him and not being able to read a single emotion, a single intention. Messalina Sigilo was very much alive, but for the first time, he felt her death.

“Mother,” he said, with courtesy and feigned warmth.

If she blew his cover and called him Daniel he would flare with lightning and dragon fire. He would burn Allaster and Cynara and anyone else who moved to do him harm. He would fight the Hierarch's guards, and her consort, and even the Hierarch herself if he had to. He would go to war.

But if she called him Paul, he would just sit there and eat his shaved barnacle goose.

She nodded. “Son.”

Two panels of the wall slid open where Daniel hadn't even noticed a seam. From a dark space—a closet, a vestibule, a passageway, or a yawning chasm—the Hierarch entered, with Lord General Creighton a pace behind.

Daniel had only glimpsed her during his audience, peering up at her high upon her throne. He assumed she'd be some kind of monster. But she wasn't so far removed from the girl depicted in the stained glass. Tall and regal, she was no beast or wraith. She wasn't constructed of exterior bone or armored skin plates. She wasn't covered in scales. She was a lovely, silver-haired woman apparently in her sixties, though, if history was to be believed, she was more than a century old. Her only badge of office was a simple diadem of silver set with a single griffin's claw.

The dinner party rose to their feet. Some, like the Dorings, stood gracefully. Others nearly fell over themselves, chair legs scraping on the glass floor.

Creighton pulled the chair out for his wife and liege, and the Hierarch took her place at the head of the table. Everyone took Creighton seating himself as the signal that they could stop standing at attention with backs so rigid that Daniel imagined them toppling like dominos.

Footmen in red livery flowed in and out of the room, bringing wines and plates of vivid purple mushrooms and gloppy soups and gelatinous swirls and the teeth of some herbivore prepared in a way that made them spongy and chewable. Every course was delicious, and Daniel would have given a lot to hang out in the Hierarch's kitchens.

The Hierarch set down her fork and dabbed her lips with a napkin. The footmen removed plates of crunchy black quills, whether or not people had finished eating them.

There was an interval of silence, and the air pressure seemed to decrease, like in the moments before a storm.

“My lords and ladies, we have a problem,” the Hierarch began. “Arrayed before us we find our most respected osteomancers, four of whom we see fit to consider as our High Grand Osteomancer, an office that has sat vacant for too long. We would be displeased to see it continue as such. Fortunately, our realm is rich with talent. We have Lord Professor Cormorant, the most learned of our osteomancers, whose scholarship has advanced our art further than any other of our subjects we can name.”

Rather than swell with pride, Cormorant seemed to shrink a little. He really seemed not to want a promotion.

“But the duties of the office are not only those of the scholar,” the Hierarch continued. “We depend on our High Grand Osteomancer's counsel in matters of war, and internal security, as well. And is that where Lord Cormorant's passions lie?”

Cormorant issued a tiny grunt, as if to say, “Hell, no.”

“As for Lord Allaster Doring, no one could question his passion for security and war. Nor his power. But, though we are not prejudiced against youth, we worry that Lord Allaster's wisdom lags behind even his modest age.”

Daniel watched Allaster's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

“We are most delighted and relieved to welcome Lord Paul back to our bosom. Only the Lord Professor's knowledge of magic surpasses his, and his hunger for innovation is unmatched. A man who can build a living dragon from scraps is certainly fit to take a unique place beside our throne.” She paused, and everyone seemed eager for the other shoe to drop. Daniel was, too. Her judgment determined who would be touched by the
axis mundi
scepter.

She went on: “But what are we to make of a man who both makes a dragon and loses it?”

That could have gone worse, Daniel thought as the Hierarch turned finally to Cynara.

“And we come to Lord Cynara, whom we have loved well since her birth. If she built a dragon—and we believe she could—we have confidence she would not then lose it. We do not, however, have full confidence that she would turn over such a wondrous creature to her Hierarch.”

Her tone was that of a gentle scolding, but she'd just said that she suspected Cynara capable of treason. Cynara opened her mouth as if to protest, but apparently thought the better of it when the Hierarch stood abruptly. The dinner party scrambled to their feet again.

“The investiture is in two days,” she said. “You shall know of our decision then.”

When she returned to the black recess behind the glass panels, Daniel felt the air pressure rise again. His shoulders and neck ached.

More dishes were brought out, and the table hummed with conversation. Cormorant talked about wine and grapes, and Allaster made a joke, and Cynara asked Daniel's mother about espionage intelligence in the Southern realm and Daniel's mother countered by asking about Ethelinda.

When the dinner came to a merciful end, Daniel's mother touched his arm. “The moon bridge,” she whispered in his ear. “Tonight at two.”

*   *   *

Daniel went alone to meet her in the palace gardens. Japanese maples provided an illusion of concealment, but Daniel knew guards lurked among the croaking frogs in the dark. His mother was waiting for him on a decorative bridge arched over a pond sprinkled with cherry blossoms. Daniel drew close enough to touch her, but he didn't offer an embrace. He knew that made her sad.

“We can speak freely, Daniel. We're surrounded by meretsegar serpent dust. No one can overhear.”

Daniel smelled dry bones and sand.

“You didn't fink on me at dinner.”

“Of course not.”

“No. Of course not. If you were going to tell the Hierarch I'm not Paul, you wouldn't do it in front of the court sorcerers. Secrets are your coin. You wouldn't splurge it on that bunch.”

“I wouldn't do it because you're my son.”

“I honestly don't know what that means.”

“It means I love you.”

Insects chirped. Water from the streams and fountains trickled in the night.

His mother looked into the pond, as if searching for something in the dark waters.

“Do you want to hear it now?” she said.

“Hear what?”

“The explanation. My story. The reason I abandoned you.”

There was a time when Daniel did. All those years, being raised by Otis Roth instead of a parent, always feeling there was a big, empty pit beneath him where the life he was supposed to have led had fallen away.

But he'd had help. He had Otis's other orphans. He had Moth and Cassandra and Jo and Punch. He had friends.

“You know,” he said, “I look at your face, and I recognize it. I know your name. And I'm not going to say I don't have a mom, that my mom is dead. Because here you are. And I'm not even going to say that I don't care why you left me behind with Otis. Why you took Paul with you and not me. It's not that I don't care. Of course I care. You're my living mother, and you orphaned me. But right now, at this moment, I don't have time to care. You are not the most important thing to me. My pain is not the most important thing to me. I have a job to do, and all I care about is how your presence complicates it.” Moonlight threw stark shadows across her face. “I'm sorry. I'm sure you had a whole speech worked out.”

“Don't be petty. You must want an explanation.”

“Not as much as you want to give it to me. But you don't get that. You don't get to explain. You don't get to let it off your chest. You don't get a chance to make me understand.”

“This is the punishment you've chosen for me, Daniel?”

For a long time, neither of them spoke. Water flowed beneath their feet.

“If you're ever ready to hear my explanation, Daniel, ask Cassandra. She was willing to listen.”

“When did you see Cassandra?”

“Today. She's in the city with Argent. And Argent's hound. They haven't found the dragon yet. I don't think they can without my help.”

“Did you hurt them?” Heat came to his lungs.

“I'm a spy. That doesn't make me a monster. I want to help you, Daniel.”

She reached out to touch him and he flinched away.

“How can you help?”

She closed her eyes, gathering herself, and he understood that it was costing her to stand here, so close to her son, not being able to get past the walls he'd erected to keep her out. He wouldn't even permit her to explain. He wouldn't even be angry at her. All he would talk to her about was business. All he would give her was coldness. It must be hurting her a lot. When she opened her eyes again, he saw how much.

“Your friends are on the right track,” she said, “looking for large movements of osteomancy to a place big enough to house a dragon. And there is a lot of magic being moved around. The problem is, it's being moved to multiple locations, to the airship fields south of the city, to a flotilla of container ships docked off the coast, a few other places. Either someone's deliberately set up some decoys, or else there're multiple large-scale projects under way.”

“Don't you know? You're the Hierarch's spymaster.”

“That was a long time ago,” she said. “And Paul's failure to deliver the dragon hasn't helped my position. I'm no longer privy to all the machinations of the Hierarch and her court. And there are a lot of machinations.”

“Then what's your best guess?”

“I'd say the Presidio. It's got easy water access, large warehouse buildings, and they just got a delivery of two hundred feet of gleipnir chains.”

“Gleipnir chains?”

“Not something you'd have seen in the South. It's an unbreakable compound.”

“Just the kind of thing you'd need if you wanted to tie down a firedrake.”

“Exactly.” She smiled at him, proud.

Daniel made himself colder.

“My team needs better intel than that,” he said. “I can't have them breaking into every possible facility in San Francisco.”

“I just need a little more time,” she said, encouraged. If Daniel wouldn't forgive her, then she'd have to settle for bonding with her son over a covert operation.

“How much time?”

“Two days. Maybe three.”

“You have until the investiture the day after tomorrow.”

She gave one brisk nod. Messalina Sigilo was a no-nonsense spy-mom.

He was ready to leave her here and go back to the palace, but hesitated.

“Just tell me one thing.”

“Of course,” she said, almost desperate. “Anything.”

“Why are you helping me?”

“Because you're my son and I love you. Isn't that enough?”

“No. It's really not.”

She drew a deep breath and exhaled it shakily.

“Well, accept it or not, that's my reason. But, no, it's not the only one. Paul was my son, too. I loved him. He gave his life trying to craft the firedrake. Call it foolish if you like. Call it inhuman. But he was my son, and this is what he would have wanted. I won't let the Hierarch keep his dragon as a toy.”

He turned to go.

“Daniel, just one more thing. Ethelinda.”

He stopped. “What about her?”

“When are you going to tell her that you're not her father?”

“Work in progress,” he said, heading back to the palace.

 

TWENTY-ONE

“What I would like to know, Paul, is precisely when you decided to make an enemy out of me.”

Daniel and Cynara had been having a nice morning stroll through the palace gardens. Threads of fog softened the views and lent an authentic backdrop to the cloud forest. Daniel was admiring the pink polyps of fuchsia plants when Cynara made her accusation.

Taken aback, he fumbled for an adequate response. Lovers' quarrels were hard enough. Faking your way through one added an extra degree of difficulty.

“I'm not your enemy.”

“Why haven't you taken yourself out of consideration? Why haven't you stepped aside for me? I don't understand your game. You can't really want the office for yourself.” She looked at him with eyes like scalpels. “You were always about study. About pushing at the frontiers of magic. You wanted the power of osteomancy, but you never cared about power over people. You were the tweezers and the lens. I was the knife and hammer.”

It disturbed Daniel how well Cynara had just described Daniel's father. Had there ever been a more powerful osteomancer who didn't want to be the Hierarch, or even hold a seat on the Council? All Sebastian wanted was a well-equipped laboratory and the freedom to work. Apparently, that's all Paul had wanted as well.

They came down the path into Sonoran desert. Saguaro cacti lurked behind the fog like sentries. A ship's horn wailed from nearby.

“You are not the man who left a year ago. I wish I had more time to let you become that man again, or to learn who this new version of you is. I mean that, Paul.” She touched his hand, her fingers brushing across his palm and leaving a trail of warmth behind. “But the investiture is tomorrow. If the Hierarch names me, maybe there'll be some time for us yet. But if not, I will claim the Rite of Challenge.”

The Rite of Challenge? There was a Rite of Challenge, for crying out loud?

“Isn't that a little extreme?” It sure sounded extreme to Daniel.