“I have seen a dragon react with distress to acid eating through its scales, courtesy of one of Tolemek’s early goos. I understand he’s been ensconced in his lab and is making more since your team brought blood samples back from the portal mission.”
“That’s good, sir.” Realizing Zirkander wasn’t going to mock him for caressing his dashboard, Trip slid down, accidentally clunking Azarwrath’s hilt on the side of the flier. There were days he did not feel like a powerful sorcerer. Or even a powerful sorcerer-in-training. “Will I get to meet Dr. Targoson? I asked Captain Ahn if he was nice, and she shrugged and grunted at me.”
“A shrug and a grunt?” Duck asked. “You must have caught her on a loquacious day.”
“Loquacious, Duck?” Zirkander asked. “Have you been reading dictionaries?”
“I’ve been reading plenty of things, sir. Big, thick books from ye olden days when they used lots of fancy words. Cradarkin, Grundier, Lady Marchthicket. Classics.”
“Those are classic romance novelists, aren’t they?”
“Well, some might call them that, but there’s a lot of swashbuckling in the stories, and there are wars and politics and intrigues. And tips for how to be a gentleman and win a lady. Did you know it’s considered impolite to discuss medical conditions, people’s age, gossip, scatology, and animal mating habits in the presence of ladies?”
“I wouldn’t have guessed.”
“I know. I’ve been doing it all wrong, sir. I can’t help it that it’s hard to make a good tracking metaphor without mentioning scat.”
“What’s left to talk about?” Trip asked, bemused by the direction the conversation had gone, but relieved he wasn’t the one being teased anymore.
“Food and fashion and music are what the book suggests,” Duck said. “I’m writing down some conversation starters about army rations that I can use the next time I’m at the tavern and sit down by a pretty lady.”
“I’m sure that will do the trick.” Zirkander patted him on the shoulder, then turned a more serious expression toward Trip. “Believe it or not, this wasn’t what I came over to talk about.”
“Shocking, sir,” Trip said.
“You, Duck, Blazer, Colonel Tranq, and Captain Ahn are cordially invited to the castle in the morning to discuss the dragon problem with the king. Some of the elite troops sword wielders will also be there.”
“I’m invited, sir?” Duck sounded surprised.
“It was more of a requirement than a request, I confess,” Zirkander said. “Because you have more prior experience with dragons than most of our pilots. Maybe you can chat with Angulus about army rations if you’re not sure what else to discuss.”
“I was planning to use those opening lines on a lady, sir.”
“Maybe you can trot them by Blazer and Ahn. I expect Kaika will be there too.”
Duck’s mouth twisted, and Trip suspected he was trying to think of a polite way to suggest Kaika wasn’t the kind of lady he had in mind.
Trip wondered if Rysha would be there. She should have had her elite troops final test by now. Had she passed? He’d been out of town for several days and had no way to know. He’d used his magic to look for her on the training field as the squadron had flown in, but it had already been empty, the testing complete. If she’d passed, she ought to officially be a dragon rider now. As the only one Iskandia had—unless one counted Tylie, Phelistoth’s rider, who was of Cofah origins and hadn’t volunteered to hunt down Iskandian enemies on a regular basis—she ought to be invited to any important meetings.
“Be there early. I’m sure the king will want everyone’s input.” Zirkander scratched his jaw and looked at Trip. “Have you met Shulina Arya’s parents?”
“No, sir.”
“Apparently, they’re the reason for the meeting.”
“A couple of bronze dragons? Did they say what they wanted?”
“No, but I gather Angulus is pleased that they requested an audience rather than simply flying into the country, ravaging the landscape, and eating people’s cows and sheep, as has been the norm for most of the dragon visitors we’ve had.”
Any idea what to expect, Azarwrath? Trip asked. He’d given Jaxi back to Sardelle, so he only had one soulblade riding on his hip these days. Azarwrath was on the quieter side.
No, but I dread hearing more about army rations, Telryn. When will you take me to a restaurant with fine china, chefs in the kitchen, and a sommelier waiting tableside to tell us about the best vintages in his cellar?
Quieter, but not less eccentric, Trip decided. A somme-what?
The soulblade sighed into his mind. A wine steward, Telryn. Now that you are realizing your powers and becoming respected among your people, it’s time for your tastes to mature.
Maybe I can borrow some of Duck’s books. The swashbuckling sounded promising. Though I’d rather read metalworking and engineering periodicals to see what new processes are being invented. The classics are a tad dry.
The soulblade sighed again. Trip wondered if Azarwrath ever regretted his decision to accept a lowly Iskandian with lowly tastes as his wielder.
“Oh, and Trip?” Zirkander had started away, but he turned back around. “Are you coming for tutoring tonight?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Sardelle invited the surrogate mothers to come for a checkup and to see if she could do anything for them. I assume most of them will bring the babies with them, in case you want to see them.”
“Yes, sir. I do.”
A night spent with squalling babies, Azarwrath said. So different from a night of fine dining.
Maybe there will be cookies.
You have simple tastes, Telryn.
Last time we were there, General Zirkander’s mother brought those cookies with the butterscotch chips. Trip had only had butterscotch a few times in his life and had considered them exotic. Didn’t you think those were good?
Azarwrath issued another mournful sigh.
Young Marinka raced around the oversized couch made from flier parts singing, “Company, company!” while kittens scampered about. The sleek black-and-white mother cat ignored her offspring while keeping an eye on a foot-long lizard that scuttled about but mostly hid under the end tables. Even if Trip hadn’t recognized the lizard—it had grown since being released from its stasis chamber—he would have sensed the dragon blood in its leathery green body. The rest of the animal menagerie was being housed in the bunkhouse out back, alternately tended by Sardelle’s two younger students and Tylie. Apparently, the monkey was being trained to do chores.
Marinka finished her dead sprint around the house by twirling on the rug in front of the couch, throwing her arms up, and giving a final cheerful, “Company!”
The two surrogate mothers who had already arrived and sat down in plush chairs shifted their babies in their laps and clapped politely. Marinka bowed deeply, her ponytail almost brushing the floor.
Sardelle, who stood with her baby boy, Olek, cradled in her arms, watched this display with some bemusement.
“I was a quiet, introverted child,” she explained to Trip.
They had wrapped up his sorcery lesson when the first of the mothers arrived, and now waited for the rest.