Dragon Scales (3 page)

"Why me, then?" Isaia asked, crossing his arms over his masterfully bare chest. "There are dozens of dragons in the area—"

"There are?" Amantea asked, then shut his mouth, his teeth clicking together. Maybe Isaia wasn't the red dragon he was supposed to have caught. Maybe he could still make this work, though he had no idea how, given Isaia had been easily able to break out of the pocket world Amantea had created.

"And you're not leaving until I'm convinced you won't go after them," Isaia said. He flicked a hand toward the door, muttering another incomprehensible word. It slammed shut, and Amantea jumped.

Amantea glanced around, looking for any other way out—but the windows were all shut tight, and the house didn't even have a fireplace, so no chimney for him to fly up. Not that he would. Chimneys were too dangerous with all the soot and smog, and there was always the chance of a fire being lit.

Isaia muttered something that sounded completely uncomplimentary, threw up his hands, and stalked back across the room. Amantea watched him go, wondering what it was that Isaia actually wanted. Isaia dug through a trunk set against the far wall. He slammed the lid shut after pulling out a fat glass jar.

To Amantea's surprise, he sat down immediately to Amantea's right on the bench. He unscrewed the jar, releasing a pungent, musky smell that Amantea didn't recognize. "Give me your arm."

"What?" Amantea asked, startled. Isaia didn't wait for him, grabbing his arm—gently, again, like he might break Amantea—and slathered a fingerful of the goop in the jar over the finger-shaped bruises he'd left on Amantea's skin.

"They'll be gone by morning," Isaia said. Amantea tugged his arm free, lifting it to stare at the goop. It was opaque, faintly shimmery, and it tingled where it touched his skin.

"What is it?" Amantea asked, turning his arm to make the goop shimmer in the light from the window above them.

"A mix of tuskweed and dragon's blood," Isaia said matter-of-factly. Amantea dropped his arm, shooting Isaia a horrified stare. Isaia rolled his eyes, screwing the lid back onto the jar. "Who sent you after me?"

"I-I didn't want to do it," Amantea said, staring down at his arm. Where had Isaia gotten the dragon's blood? Did he cut himself for it? Or did he bleed other dragons?

"Why did you?" Isaia asked. He leaned closer, smelling of hot grass, and Amantea didn't know how to say it. His tongue twisted into knots. Isaia sighed, sitting back. His voice was harsher when he spoke next, and Amantea hunched his shoulders. "Let me guess. You're being blackmailed, and the only way out of it is an obscene amount of money, say nearly the same amount you'd earn capturing a dragon and selling him for parts to the nearest witch?"

"How did you know that?" Amantea demanded, his heart pounding rapidly. Was Isaia in on it? Amantea couldn't see how, but he hadn't known dragons could do magic, either, so it wasn't as though he was good at seeing the big picture.

"Because you're not the first he's sent after me," Isaia said, scowling. He touched Amantea's chin, nudging his head up. Amantea reluctantly met his eyes and was surprised to see Isaia didn't look like he was about to eat him.

"The witch?" Amantea asked, startled.

"What was his name?" Isaia asked, dropping his hand.

"Naldo," Amantea said, his head spinning. So he wasn't the first one to go after Isaia at the witch's behest? Why hadn't Naldo mentioned that? Isaia's lips compressed together, and he looked even less pleased at Amantea's answer.

"As I thought. And what is he holding over your head?" Isaia asked. He sounded like he was one step from going to find Naldo to tear his head from his shoulders.

"Nothing," Amantea said, shifting nervously. He didn't want to put his nest in more danger than it already was. He was relatively sure a dragon wouldn't care about a faerie nest, but keeping mum about the nest was ingrained in all faeries once they were old enough to understand words.

"Oh? You just... decided to pick up dragon hunting?" Isaia asked, leaning in, a dangerous note to his voice. Amantea reached for his magic, ready to make the jump into an unanchored portal if he needed to.

"No, I just... I-I needed the money," Amantea stammered, shifting away from Isaia on the bench. "It wasn't—I don't—"

"What do you need the money for?" Isaia asked. He didn't stop Amantea from moving away, and Amantea hastily stood up, putting more distance between him and Isaia.

Amantea shook his head. How did he explain the local human lordling was trying to demolish the forest where his nest had been established for years? They'd been hidden there for years, and their magic afforded them some protection, but faerie magic was built on portals and pocket worlds and misdirection. It wasn't offensive, and there was nothing they could do if the lordling tore down the forest around them.

Isaia sighed and stood, approaching Amantea where he stood several steps away. He reached out and set his hands on Amantea's shoulders, a warm, heavy weight. "What do you need the money for?"

"A ransom," Amantea said quietly, looking down. "I'm sorry."

"Good," Isaia said, and Amantea's head shot up so quickly something twanged in his neck. Ignoring the sore muscle, he glared at Isaia, jerking away from his grip.

"It is not good! My entire clan will be destroyed if we don't get him the money, and you think that's good." Amantea whirled on his heel, intent on leaving. Anger, hot and bright, flashed through him. How dare Isaia—

Amantea yelped, nearly falling when Isaia grabbed him by the arm again. He whirled back toward Isaia, thumping his too-fine chest with a fist. "Let me go!"

"Good that you're sorry," Isaia said, not letting Amantea go. He didn't seem to register that Amantea had thumped him, either, which was probably good for Amantea's health. "Not good that your nest is in danger. Calm down."

"Fuck you," Amantea said, but he sagged, the anger leaving as quick as it had come. What was he going to do now? He couldn't catch a dragon to begin with, and he doubted catching a different dragon would work. It sounded like Naldo had picked Isaia on purpose, which meant he wouldn't accept a substitute.

Maybe he could go throw the lordling into a pocket world. That might keep the rest of his nest—or kingdom or whatever humans called their territories—from destroying the forest. That was probably his best bet, since he had no way of raising the money. He could go home, see if they'd come up with anything... But they were probably still squabbling about what to do, and likely hadn't even realized he'd left.

Isaia heaved a sigh, like Amantea was the most aggravating faerie he'd ever had to deal with. He shoved Amantea toward the bench again. "Sit."

"No," Amantea said, crossing his arms. "Are you done with your questions? Can I go now?"

"No, I'm not. Go sit," Isaia said, rolling his eyes. Amantea didn't move, but Isaia seemed to take it as a given that he would, turning and heading back over to the trunk he'd pulled the medicine from. Amantea watched him; what in the world was Isaia after now?

His question was answered a moment later when Isaia removed a thin, stiff tube from the trunk. He slammed the lid shut again and started back across the room toward Amantea. It wasn't medicine, and it didn't look like it was magical, either, but anything could be in that tube.

Isaia walked past Amantea, over to the table, and began stacking up his papers and books in an untidy heap. Amantea hesitated, but then slowly moved to join him, curious despite his conviction that he should be leaving. Once Isaia had a suitable space clear, he popped open the end of the tube and drew out a large, rolled up paper that turned out to be a large map.

Amantea stared at it. The map was gorgeous. It was incredibly detailed, with delicate brushwork and thin lines. He'd only ever seen crude, pencil-drawn maps before. This was leagues above that, and no doubt far more expensive. Isaia laid books on each corner of the map, holding it in place.

"We're here," Isaia said, pointing to the base of a mountain near the center of the map. The tiny lake was right nearby, though it was labeled in more of the dragon language, so Amantea had no idea what it was called. "Where is your nest?"

Amantea shook his head. He wasn't going to share that, not ever. It was bad enough the humans had figured out where they were; he wasn't going to compound that by telling a dragon where the nest was.

"I can't help you if I don't know which of the humans are threatening you," Isaia said, baring his teeth at Amantea. "Where?"

"You want to help," Amantea said flatly, disbelieving that Isaia wanted to do anything of the sort. Maybe he was after revenge?

Isaia heaved a sigh, sitting down on the bench. "You're not the first Naldo has dragged into our feud. I will help, to try to end the matter once and for all."

Amantea shivered because Isaia sounded positively murderous. He probably was. "But he's not the lordling."

"No, he's manipulating the lordling. And you." Isaia raised his eyebrows when Amantea bristled. "Or did you come up with the idea of catching a dragon by yourself?"

Amantea shrugged. He hadn't, but he still resented the implication that he'd been manipulated. He wasn't that naive, was he? But then, he had immediately gone exactly where Naldo had said, to catch exactly the dragon Naldo wanted, and Naldo had been the first person to find him after he'd left his nest...

"Where are you supposed to meet Naldo?" Isaia asked. "Do you know which lordling he's manipulating?"

Amantea bit his lip, staring at the map. He'd come east, through the woods, but he'd come from the human settlement that was north of his nest, and the lordling's territory was to the west of that... Amantea hesitantly touched a small castle-shaped drawing on the map. "There, I think."

Isaia frowned, staring at the map. "Farthingworth? You're sure?"

Amantea nodded. That had been the name the bulbous little mongrel who'd delivered the ultimatum had said. "Yes, Farthingworthy," Amantea said. "That was the name. What does that mean?"

"Not much," Isaia said. He stood again, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Farthingworth is small potatoes. It would be easy for Naldo to manipulate him into threatening your nest. How did they find it?"

"I don't know," Amantea said quietly. He refused to get his hopes up. Isaia would probably decide it was too much trouble to help him, or decide that Amantea deserved no help for doing just what Naldo had wanted him to.

"And what were you supposed to do once you caught me?" Isaia asked. "Where are you meeting Naldo?"

Amantea opened his mouth, then shut it. Could he bargain? Naldo for Isaia's help? Or would Isaia refuse? "Why do you want to help?"

"Faerie nests are like hoards: they should be left alone," Isaia said. Amantea blinked, glanced around; there wasn't anything he'd consider hoard-worthy in the house, but he didn't know what Isaia considered worthy. "It's not here. This—" he gestured to the house, "—is temporary."

"Oh," Amantea said softly. He had the distinct feeling he was missing a great deal about the situation he was immersed in. "Because of Naldo?"

"Exactly," Isaia said. He smiled, but it wasn't a pleasant expression. "I can't go home until he's dealt with, and I'm going to help you because no one deserves to have their home threatened."

Amantea nodded. "I'm supposed to meet him in the town I met him in. He's got a house there." Amantea frowned at the map, trying to get his bearings. "It's not on here, I don't think."

"Where about is it?" Isaia asked. He stepped back up to the table, immediately to Amantea's right, and his warm presence distracted Amantea briefly. Shaking his head to clear it, Amantea circled a large area with his finger.

"There-ish, I guess?" Amantea said. "But I can take you there exactly."

"No," Isaia said firmly. "You're going home."

"No," Amantea said, furious. He wasn't a child. He turned, glaring up at Isaia. He nearly faltered when he was recalled to how close Isaia was, but he wasn't going to let Isaia treat him like a child just as his entire clan did. "I'm going, and you can't stop me."

"I could lock you in here," Isaia said. "This is too dangerous, flit. Naldo won't hesitate to kill you if he thinks it would benefit him or if you get in his way. I cannot be responsible for you."

"I'm not asking you to be," Amantea said, scowling. "I'm not a child, and I don't need anyone to be responsible for me. I'm responsible for me."

Isaia didn't say anything, just raised his eyebrows. Amantea glared at him, then turned on his heel. He didn't need Isaia. He'd go back to the town, throw Naldo into a pocket world, and then find Farthingworthy or Farworthing or whatever his name was and throw him in a pocket world, and then he'd go home to get yelled at by his mother.

Reaching the door, Amantea yanked it open—or tried to. The door when nowhere, and no amount of jiggling the knob or pulling at it would make it give. Without looking at Isaia, Amantea demanded, "Open it."

"No," Isaia said. Amantea jumped, startled, and whirled around to face Isaia, who was far closer than Amantea had expected. "You'll stay here. Tomorrow, I will go find Naldo and end this."

"What if I lied?" Amantea asked, the words tumbling out. "What if that's not where I'm supposed to meet him?"

"Then I will come back very angry," Isaia said, his voice dropping. He stepped closer, trapping Amantea between him and the door. "Now would be a good time to correct that error."

Amantea lifted his chin stubbornly. His heart thudded a rapid staccato in his chest, and he was fairly certain Isaia was going to end up killing him before the night was through.

"Did you lie?" Isaia asked. He thumped a hand against the door, right next to Amantea's head, and Amantea jumped.

"Yes," Amantea said, sticking to it. "You'll never know where to go if you don't take me."

"You're lying now," Isaia said, rolling his eyes. He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like flit before shoving away, leaving Amantea pressed up against the door, his heart still thudding rapidly.

Isaia walked back over to the table to stare at the map. Amantea scowled at him, and then decided his best option was to shift. He tugged off his shirt quickly, then shut his eyes and shifted, slipping into his smaller form like it was his favorite jacket. The gap under the door was too small for him to fit, so Amantea flew up, toward the rafters, wanting to get away from Isaia. Perhaps he could find a way out through the roof.