The Unbearable Lightness of Dragons (35 page)

He made a wry face. “Not much. Just a little raking over the coals.”

“I’m sorry—”

He stopped my apology with a smile. “It was worth it to see you again. Would you mind if I asked why you’re lugging around a big rock?”

“His name is Larry. He’s really a blue dragon.”

Jack stared at the stone. “I thought the master placed the Grace of the Magi on you.”

“He did. It doesn’t really help a whole lot.”

“Ah. He’s in the sitting room.”

Jack escorted me to the main room, murmuring my name by way of an announcement as I entered. I was relieved to see that Violet was still with her father, the pair of them looking up from small plates of cake and tiny sandwiches.

“Tully! You’re just in time for tea,” Violet said, waving me in and pouring a fresh cup for me.

I paused a moment, waiting to see if Dr. Kostich was going to kick up a fuss at my arriving unexpectedly again, but he simply frowned and said, “Since you offered me hospitality at your table, it is fitting I should do the same.”

“Thank you.” Gratefully, I took the cup Violet handed me, as well as a plate laden with teatime goodies. “Ooh, cucumber sandwiches. I do love them.”

“You have news of Maura?” Dr. Kostich asked, bending his frown upon me. “You have located her?”

“Yes, and yes.”

“Oh, thank the stars,” Violet sighed, relief causing her to sag against the couch. “I knew you’d save her.”

“I haven’t quite done that. Yet.”

Dr. Kostich set down his plate. “Why are you here, then?”

I took a deep breath, followed by a big swig of hot tea. “I’m here to have you change a rock back into a blue dragon, if you can, and to remove the interdiction bound on me.”

His face was as solid and unmoving as Larry’s stone. “We had an agreement, Tully Sullivan.”

A little pinch of pain shot through me as he flexed his arcane muscles. “Yes, we did. I promised to try to help Maura, and I’ve done so. I met with her. I talked to her about getting away from the dragon tribe.” I took another sip of tea, more for time to gather my courage than anything else. “I offered her my help. She doesn’t want to leave them.”

“I told you that,” Violet said, sitting upright again. “But she’s scared, Tully. Underneath that bravado, she’s scared. I just know she is.”

I sorted through my impressions, slowly shaking my head. “I hate to contradict a mother’s feelings, but she didn’t strike me as scared.”

“How
did
she strike you?” Kostich asked, his voice level, but I could feel anger building in the air.

I met his gaze. “Not frightened or intimidated or even unhappy. She seemed very much in charge of herself . . . and others.”

He made an annoyed click of his tongue.

“No, that can’t be right. It was an act, Tully,” Violet protested.

“I don’t think it was. Believe me, I wish there was an easy way to fix things, to help her escape the hold these dragons have on her, but the truth is that they have no hold. At least not the kind you mean. Far from it, I’d say. She was in command of the dragons—until they attacked us, that is.” I explained briefly about the resurrection of Constantine and the subsequent assault by Larry, Curly, and Moe.

Kostich rose and went to the window, his fingers absently drawing little clarity spells on nothing in particular. “You say that one of the dragons referred to someone else, someone other than Maura?”

“Not directly, but the implication was there.” An idea popped into my head, but it was so far-fetched, I couldn’t give it any credence. Besides, it didn’t fit. “If there is someone other than Maura calling the shots, I don’t know who that could be. I had a vision a few days ago about an event that took place at an aerie in Tibet. Ouroboros dragons were there, and were led by Maura. I didn’t see her explicitly, but there was a shade present, and he referred to his mistress. Who else but a Summoner would have a shade?”

Kostich made another annoyed noise, one long, thin hand waving away my question. “A necromancer or an Ilargi might. That is not what is important.”

“They’d have to be dragons as well, and there are no necromancer or dragon Ilargi that I can—” I stopped, the word “necromancer” ringing a bell in my head. “Wait a minute—necromancers can summon shades?”

“Summon? No, but they are the only beings to whom shades can be bound, assuming the necromancer first gains control over the shade. What exactly did Maura say when the ouroboros dragons defied her orders?”

I repeated her words, trying to fit together the terrible idea that was growing increasingly horrible.

“She condoned a kidnapping?” Violet moaned softly to herself. “She participated in it? She
planned
it? Oh, my poor girl!”

“This is what comes of consorting with dragons,” her father told her before turning back to me. “Very well. We will deal with the situation from here. You are excused.”

“Huh?” I shook away my mental fog and stared at him for a moment. “Oh. Er . . . yes, I’m sorry. If there’s anything more I can do to help you with Maura, I will be happy to do so. About the interdiction . . .”

“You have not freed my granddaughter from her association with the dragons. Our agreement was for you to do so,” he said, returning to his seat and turning his attention to his plate of pastries.

“Our agreement was for me to try. I’ve done so. I want the interdiction off.”

He froze at my strident tone.

“Please,” I added hastily.

“Yes, Father, take it off her. She’s earned it,” Violet said wearily. My heart went out to her, but I was at a loss as to how I could be of further help.

Unless . . .

Kostich’s face was black for a good two minutes, but finally he relented. “I will remove the interdiction, but you will remember that you are no longer a member of the Magister’s Guild, and as such, may not look to us for help.”

I nodded, waiting expectantly. With a sigh that rivaled Baltic’s at his most exasperated, Kostich stood, drew a symbol over me, and pronounced me free of the interdiction and grace.

Tiny invisible bands that had held me tightly loosened somewhat before finally dissolving, leaving me with the feeling that I could breathe deeply for the first time in many months. “Thank you,” I said with profound gratitude. “And Larry?”

Dr. Kostich’s nostril’s flared.

“Right. I’ll take care of him myself. Shouldn’t be an issue with the interdiction off, right?” I would have apologized again for my inability to bring them good news about Maura, but it was clear they both wanted me gone.

I paused at the door, looking back, unable to keep from asking Dr. Kostich, “Can mages who have diminished return to the mortal world?”

His pale blue eyes pinned me back with a look that raised the hairs on the back of my neck. “It has not occurred, no.”

“But it’s possible?”

Silence greeted my question for a good minute. “Only by a mage powerful enough to overcome the forces of nature itself.”

Or one whose daughter was working on her behalf, a daughter who was half dragon and who was in her own right powerful enough to sing dirges . . . and raise the dead. A necromancer, in fact.

I looked at him with horror creeping along my skin. “I have to go home.”

“What is in your mind, dragon?” he asked, starting toward me.

I shook my head and bolted, tossing over my shoulder, “I’ll let you know if it’s true.”

While in the elevator on the way down to the ground floor, I made a frantic phone call to first Baltic, then Pavel, but neither of them answered.

By the time I engaged a rental car, hastily left a message with Aisling’s housekeeper informing her I would be by to pick up Brom later, and tried to reach Baltic three more times, I greatly feared that the dark turn of my suspicions would turn out to be only too valid.

As I pulled up at our house to find the lights ablaze, semicircles of light from the windows piercing the night, all doubt was erased.

“Can anyone join this party, or is it by invitation only?” I asked as I set the Larry stone on a table near the door in Baltic’s library.

At the sound of the door opening, two of the three occupants of the room turned to look at me.

I squatted next to where Pavel lay on the floor, feeling for his pulse. It was a little erratic, but present, and he didn’t seem to be bleeding anywhere.

“Will the day never come that you will do as I ask, mate?” Baltic asked, his face filled with irritation.

I gestured toward the woman in front of him. “You’re the only man I know who can be annoyed at his mate while someone else holds a sword to your neck. What exactly do you intend to do to Baltic, Thala? You can’t mean to kill him; you’re the one who brought him back to life.”

She ground her teeth while Baltic answered in just the arrogant tone I was expecting. “Ysolde, you will leave the house. This is between Thala and me.”

“I don’t think it is—not anymore.” I stepped over Pavel’s form, skirting the two of them in their locked tableau. “Not since Thala ordered her Three Stooges to kill me in Latvia.”

Baltic’s gaze shifted back to Thala. His eyes glowed with ebony fury. “You tried to kill my mate? Who are these dragons you command?”

“Clever, aren’t you?” Thala taunted me, her eyes nervously switching from Baltic to me. “Did that little half-dragon bitch Maura talk?”

“Half-dragon . . .” I shook my head, moving behind Baltic to the far side until I stood behind a couch, resting my hands on the back of it. “She’s the same as you, Thala. You both have dragon fathers . . . red dragon fathers. Was your father killed by Chuan Ren as well? Is that why you’re not a member of the sept?”

She spat out a word that I didn’t recognize, but I knew it was not particularly polite. Baltic stood apparently relaxed, his hands open, but I could feel the dragon fire inside of him, demanding that he act. He was waiting to see what Thala would do. Neither of us believed she would hurt him, not after she’d gone to significant trouble to resurrect him.

“My father couldn’t be bothered to recognize me, and the sept refused to allow me in because they said my mother’s blood tainted the precious dragon blood, diffused it into something impure. So, yes, I formed my own tribe, just as Baltic did when I brought him back. Only we have no intention of living quietly while our usurpers reign supreme.”

Baltic eyed her with speculation. “You raised your own tribe? Then it was you who acted against me.”

She smiled. “You were so busy thinking of nothing but re-forming the dragon heart, I’m surprised you noticed anything else was going on.”

“You gave Kostya my shard.” His eyes narrowed. “You did not wish for me to re-form the heart!”

“Of course I didn’t, you stupid man,” she snapped, the sword waving in the air as she gesticulated. “Ysolde! Ysolde! That’s all you could think of—Ysolde! ‘We must re-form the heart, Thala. We must get the shards from the other wyverns so we can invoke the First Dragon, Thala. Your plans and desires must wait—it must all circle around bloody precious Ysolde!’ I bit my tongue for
years
while you made your plans, because I knew that they would never come to fruition. I knew that one day you would grow tired of trying to regain that which you could never have again, and then nothing would matter to you.” Her gaze shifted to me. “I didn’t know that wretched sister of mine had already done the job.”

“But why . . . ? I don’t understand,” I said, sliding my hands down behind the couch so I could start sketching a few wards and begin to gather a ball of arcane power.

“She wanted the dragon heart for herself,” Baltic answered, his face impassive. The fire raged within him, however.

“Why? What could it do . . . ? Oh. I suppose if you had the most powerful relic of all dragondom, you could do pretty much anything, couldn’t you? Even bringing your mother out of the beyond.”

To my surprise, she dropped the sword tip from Baltic’s throat and made a gesture of annoyance with her free hand. “Do you really think I’m going to stand here explaining myself to you as if I were a villain at the end of a movie? I am not so foolish, nor do I have the time to waste on your inanities.”

She flung down the sword and spread wide her hands, a horrible noise coming from her mouth, part wail, part spell.

Baltic shouted and lunged toward me, knocking me down behind the couch, covering me with his body. For a moment, it seemed as if time itself stopped, the air inside the house gathering itself; then it was released in a shock wave of fury that exploded outward, taking with it everything in its path.

 

I opened my eyes to find a blurry face just a few inches from mine. I screamed and tried to sit up, clunking my head against something rock hard. “Ack!”

“Ow! Oh, man, you broke my head!”

I blinked rapidly, and my vision cleared enough for me to see that the face belonged to a furry black dog, who was now rubbing the top of its head along the edge of the mattress upon which I was lying. “Jim! What the devil were you trying to do?”

“See if you were still breathing. You were making funny little grunting noises.” It lifted its head and bellowed, “She’s awake!”

I realized at that moment that I wasn’t alone in the bed. The familiar warm, solid form who lay next to me was too still, however. I pulled myself up again as I bent over Baltic, who was lying on his stomach, and I noted signs of serious wounds in the process of healing. “Saints of the apocalypse, what happened to his back?”

Aisling bustled into the room, May on her heels. “Oh, good, you are awake. How do you feel?”

“Confused. What’s happened to Baltic?”

“Dirge at point-blank range,” Jim said, peering over the bed to look at the bruised and battered back. “He takes a licking but keeps on ticking, doesn’t he?”

“Dirge . . .” Memory returned to me. “Thala!”

“I’m so glad you told us where you were going, or we wouldn’t have arrived just as she brought the house down on you,” Aisling said, fetching a soft robe from a wardrobe. Absently, I put it on over the nightgown in which I’d been dressed.