Abdo and Lars practiced linking minds outdoors over the next days, and they practiced a lot, fascinated by their own power. Queen Glisselda, Prince Lucian, and even Ardmagar Comonot would sometimes stand in the slushy courtyard, watching them. Abdo quickly learned to move the mind-net (as I had begun calling it) in a more controlled manner; for the Queen’s amusement he made wide bowl-shaped impressions with it in the melting snow, knocked icicles from the eaves, and caused doves to fly off the roof in panic. He took care not to hit the doves, I noted.
Glisselda sidled up to me as I watched. “Even if you fail to find any of the other ityasaari,” she said, taking my arm, “these two could do some good on their own.”
“That mind-net couldn’t protect this castle, let alone your city,” scoffed Ardmagar Comonot, who stood several feet away from us. In his saarantras, he was a short, stocky man with an aquiline nose and heavy jowls. He wore his dark hair slicked back against his head. “I calculate from its print in the snow a spheroid no more than fifteen feet across. They’ll be lucky to pull down one dragon at a time.”
“Every bit will help,” said Glisselda irritably. “They’ll be practiced enough to move it effectively, and the dragons won’t see it coming.”
“I can’t see it with these eyes, certainly,” muttered Comonot, “but I can’t vouch for my natural shape. Dragon eyesight is keener, and we can see into the ultraviolet—”
“Oh, for Heaven’s sake!” said the Queen, turning her back on him. “If I say the sky is blue, he’ll explain to me that it isn’t!”
“I had meant to tell you, Your Majesty,” I said, sensing that it was time to insert myself between the two of them. “I would like Abdo to travel with me. He can see the mind-fire of the other half-dragons, which would be immensely helpful in locating them.” Glisselda looked up at me; she was half a head shorter. “We’re already sending Dame Okra so you can use her Ninysh house as a base of operations. She can’t help?” Before I could answer, she gestured at Abdo and Lars, adding, “I’d feel better with these two here, in our arsenal.”
“My Loyalists won’t let the war come to Goredd,” interjected Comonot. “Don’t discount us.”
Glisselda’s face turned livid. “Ardmagar,” she said, “forgive me, but I have lost some faith in you.”
She turned on her heel and stalked back into the palace. Comonot watched her, his face inscrutable, his thick fingers absently toying with the gold medallions around his neck.
I shot a glance back at Abdo and Lars, still holding hands and laughing at discomfited doves. They wouldn’t miss us. I took the Ardmagar’s arm; he flinched, but didn’t pull away. We walked into the palace together.
At midwinter, Ardmagar Comonot had named me his teacher, a title of tremendous honor among dragons. It meant he ceded me some authority over him—specifically, the understanding of humans. If I told him he was doing something wrong, he was supposed to take me seriously. He’d consulted me a few times during this long winter, but he sometimes couldn’t see when he needed help. Sometimes I had to notice for him.
I didn’t mind; I’d been an intermediary for my uncle Orma many times, and this duty reminded me of him.
Comonot must have had some idea of what I wanted to talk to him about, for he came quietly up the corridor, our footsteps echoing on the marble floor. I led him to the south solar, where I gave the Queen her harpsichord lessons. No one used the room for anything else, and the walk gave me time to overthink what I should say. I sat on a settee upholstered in green satin; Comonot planted himself before the windows, looking out.
He spoke first: “Yes, the Queen is more annoyed with me than usual.”
I said, “Losing faith is well beyond annoyance. Do you know why?”
The old saar clasped his hands behind his back and wriggled his ringed fingers restlessly. “I sent Eskar and her mad scheme back to Porphyry,” he said.
I felt a pang; I had hoped to speak to her about Orma. “It was a bad plan?”
He shifted his stance, folding his arms over his barrel chest. “Forget for the moment that there is an ancient treaty in question and that the Porphyrians are touchy about it. Eskar failed to consider that sneaking up the Omiga Valley would avail us nothing unless the bulk of the Old Ard were fighting elsewhere. Her plan requires a simultaneous feint south by my Loyalists to draw enemy troops away from the Kerama.”
“South, as in all the way to Goredd?” I said.
“Correct. It is damned difficult to coordinate attacks at a distance, even with thniks.” He jingled his medallions for emphasis. They were devices for communicating at a distance, created by the quigutl, a lesser species of dragon. “Goredd might have to hold out for weeks. You saw the damage a single, determined dragon did to this city.”
There was still smoke rising from that quarter of town a week later. But Comonot’s words didn’t add up to Glisselda’s reaction. I said, “If you merely pointed out a flaw in the plan with Goredd’s safety in mind, that shouldn’t have angered the Queen.”
His shoulders sagged; his forehead rested against the glass. “Eskar, arguing with me, brought up some … defeats I had failed to mention to the Queen before now.”
I inhaled sharply through my teeth. “Bad defeats?”
“Is there a good kind? The Old Ard have a new strategist, a General Laedi—some upstart I’ve never heard of—and he cheats most egregiously. He ambushes out of hatcheries, with no qualms about destroying the young. His ards pretend to surrender, then don’t. Even our wins are almost losses; Laedi’s forces keep fighting after they’re beaten, to maximize casualties.” Comonot turned to face me, looking baffled. “What kind of strategy is that?”
I was more perplexed by Comonot’s strategy for dealing with Glisselda. “Why would you keep important information from the Queen?”
“She is bright and capable, but she is also very young. She gets …” He made a swirling gesture, like rising smoke.
“Upset?” I offered.
He nodded vigorously. “She’s in over her head. That’s not criticism; I am, too. But that’s precisely it: I have enough to sort out without her emotions thrown into the mix.”
He began pacing. I said, “You need to regain Glisselda’s trust. May I make some suggestions, Ardmagar?”
He paused expectantly, his black eyes keen as a crow’s.
I said, “Be more transparent, first of all. Maybe she’ll be upset by your losses, but emotions pass. She will be more logical and clearheaded afterward, but she has to feel it first. It’s like the order of operations in an equation.”
Comonot pursed his thick lips. “She can’t skip that step?”
“Just like you can’t stop sleeping, even though it leaves you helpless and vulnerable for hours every day,” I said.
“I’m not sure I accept that analogy,” he said, but I could tell I’d gotten him thinking.
“The second thing you should do, and perhaps the more crucial: make a gesture of goodwill to reignite the Queen’s trust. Preferably a large gesture.”
Comonot’s bushy eyebrows shot up. “An aurochs?”
I gaped at him for a couple of heartbeats before it dawned on me that he meant not merely an enormous cattlebeast but food. He would make it up to Glisselda with feasting. “That’s a possibility,” I said, nodding slowly, my mind racing. “I was thinking something still bigger. Your war policy is outside of my bailiwick, and I’d never presume to advise you, but I think your gesture should be on that scale. You might go to the front for a while, or … or dedicate an ard to the protection of Lavondaville, if you can spare one. Whatever might convince Queen Glisselda that you care for Goredd’s safety.”
He scratched his jowls. “Care is possibly too strong a—”
“Ardmagar!” I cried, annoyed with him now. “Pretend.”
He sighed. “If I left the city, it would reduce the damage done by incompetent assassins. Certainly I wouldn’t mind facing this General Laedi myself and ripping his throat out.” He gazed into the middle distance a moment, then focused on me again. “There is sense in what you say. I will consider what is best.”
That was my dismissal. I rose and gave full courtesy. He watched me solemnly, then took my hand and placed it on the back of his neck. It was a show of submission; a real dragon teacher would have bitten him.