“Would a nobleman have made up accusations about me to get me in trouble?” Trip asked glumly, caring little about labels and more about the possible avalanche rolling down the side of a mountain toward him.
“The referatu didn’t place themselves above mundane humans, but we did have our own government and judiciary system, so if one did, we would have dealt with it in house.” Sardelle sighed, gazing at the dark houses they rode past. “But it’s unlikely a mundane, even a noble, would have dared falsely accuse a mage. Even a true accusation would have been unlikely to surface.”
Trip looked at his list, then tucked it away, letting it remind him that there was at least some good news. They’d visited seven of his little siblings, and they and their surrogate mothers had all been doing fine. The women had been scared during the attack, naturally, but none of their homes had been damaged.
Still, seeing how much damage the rest of the city had undergone—and he knew it would look even worse when the sun rose—had left Trip more determined than ever to find a solution, to protect the babies and everybody here in Pinoth.
As they neared the turnoff for the Zirkander house, Trip sensed dragons there. They were shape-shifted, with their auras dampened, or he would have detected them from much farther away.
“Ma’am, were you expecting visitors? Dragon visitors?”
“You mean Phelistoth?” Sardelle must have stretched out with her senses, too, because she added, “Oh. I see you don’t. Those are the bronze dragons from the king’s meeting.”
Trip nodded. “Shulina Arya’s parents.”
He nudged his mare into a gallop. Even though he wanted to believe any relative of Shulina Arya’s would be a friend and ally, he didn’t know much about these two dragons yet. So far, he’d had nothing but bad experiences with bronze dragons. Telmandaroo had been the best of the bunch, wherever he was now, and even he had wanted to make Trip a minion.
Sardelle’s mare also picked up the pace, and they soon rounded the corner that led to her house. Moonlight gleamed silver on the surface of the pond at the end of the street, and Trip thought the clear sky and pleasant temperature a poor match for how the night had gone so far. Storms and torrential rain would have been more appropriate.
Lanterns burned in all the rooms in the house, the soft yellow light visible through the curtains. A brighter light streamed out through the living room window, a warm golden glow.
Trip raked the house with his senses. Tylie was inside, as were the babies, Sardelle’s newborn and Zherie. Her toddler was also there, sleeping up in the children’s room. The two younger students that lived here since their parents weren’t local slept out in the small bunkhouse in the back.
“Nothing seems… amiss,” Sardelle said, no doubt doing a similar check. “Other than those two unexpected guests.”
Trip tied his horse to a railing and jogged for the door. Since Tylie sat in the living room with the dragons, he assumed—hoped—that meant she was monitoring whatever they were doing.
They’re disassembling one of the stasis boxes, Jaxi said dryly. You didn’t notice that in your perusal?
No, Trip replied. And, uh, why?
Don’t ask me. I can’t read dragon minds. Or Tylie’s mind, either. Though I am chatting with Wreltad, and it seems like ‘scientific curiosity’ may be the answer.
Tylie’s soulblade? Trip had sensed the magical sword on previous visits to the house, but didn’t think he’d ever had a conversation with him.
Tylie’s soulblade. He’s another old soul from Cofah. I believe he and the stuffy Azzy chat when you come to the house for lessons. I’m sure they get along fabulously, though Taddy is more interested in nobly slaying enemies than consuming fine wine and food. I understand he’s upset nobody took him along to do battle, but Tylie is becoming more of a healer and animal handler than dragon slayer. Also, someone had to stay and babysit.
As Trip and Sardelle entered the house, a familiar male voice said, “It is one of the same ones. Look, there’s the maker’s mark.”
Trip spotted the speaker, Bhajera Liv, in the same oversized suit jacket and goggles that he’d worn in the king’s meeting. The lenses of the goggles were down and in use as he peered at a panel. He sat cross-legged on the floor near his partner, Wyleenesh, who was examining a bronze plaque. Disassembled parts lay all around them.
Tylie sat on the end of the huge wrecked-flier-parts couch, reading a book and taking notes. She looked more like a supervisor—or babysitter—than someone involved in their project.
“Good evening,” Sardelle said, sounding serene though she had to feel distressed by the mess on her floor.
Some of those tiny screws and pieces would be painful to step on when barefoot if they weren’t all cleaned up. Trip knew this because he’d often disassembled things on his grandparents’ living room floor—and heard the subsequent cursing when he hadn’t picked up all of the pieces.
“Greetings, human female,” Wyleenesh said, raising a hand in a vague greeting. “We heard about the half-dragon creatures from a past millennia and had to investigate.”
Sardelle looked at Tylie, who merely lifted a hand, palm toward the ceiling. Trip took that to mean she hadn’t invited them; they’d just shown up. And it wasn’t as if one could say no to dragons coming into the house.
“We were among those who worked on the stasis technology back then,” Wyleenesh said.
Trip leaned forward, suddenly much more interested. “You were alive thousands of years ago? When the babies that were in those chambers were originally born?”
“I should say so, yes. We were quite young and exuberant, much like Shulina Arya is now.”
“I was never like Shulina Arya is now,” his partner said dryly.
“I didn’t know you then, but I do believe that. You’re rather stodgy.”
“I’m practical.”
“Stodgily practical.”
Bhajera Liv sniffed and went back to examining the plaque. Trip couldn’t imagine why a dragon would need magnification goggles or whatever those were—Azarwrath had once shown him how to augment his vision with magic—and assumed they were an affectation.
“At the time, our kind were worried about changes to the climate we witnessed occurring,” Wyleenesh said, nodding to Sardelle, whose interest also seemed to have perked up.
She came around to sit on the couch and face them. It was the first time Trip had seen her touch that couch.
“Dragons invented the stasis technology,” Wyleenesh continued, “because we feared the world might grow inhospitable for our kind, but we believed if we could hibernate for a thousand or two thousand years, the climate might change and become more palatable again. As it does over time. But it turned out to be a brief trend toward cooler temperatures, and none of our kind felt compelled to enter the chambers. Until an illness came along that our kind did not know how to cure. It killed many dragons, and those afflicted started placing themselves in stasis, in the hope of coming out one day, in a time when a cure had been discovered.”