“We’ll cool it down,” Solet says. “Bring us wide of the Kolos. We’ll pull it off her. Mylla, tell the harpooners to kill the dragon. Tell the archers to shoot the rider.”
The green grabs onto the Kolos’s mast to regain its balance, and a horrible cracking comes from deep within the galley. Her hull has snapped beneath the dragon’s weight. Water rushes into the rowers’ deck, from beneath, then every side. Dozens of voices cry out in terror and are suddenly silenced.
The dragon tries to escape the sinking ship, but the chains connecting it to the Kolos are tangled in wreckage on the deck and it can’t get free. It roars in frustration and launches itself over the side, tangling the chains farther on the mast. The galley rolls sidewise. Timbers shatter throughout the ship.
Solet sees Mulcent by the foredeck. He has no idea why he’s there or when or how he got there, but it makes his next order all the more painful. “Cut the dragon loose,” he says, “before we’re pulled under also.”
Mylla flashes. The winches are disengaged. Chains unspool and clatter over the side. Mulcent looks at Solet with a miserable smirk and shakes his head.
Freed, the Gamo slides into a safer position off the Kolos’s starboard beam. Bodger and Gibbery have already undone the chains from their irons. Gibbery fires at the dragon’s head, but it moves at the last second, trying to get itself back on deck, and the iron misses. Bodger fires. His iron flies true and catches the dragon in the cheek. Its head collapses on deck. Its wings spread over the water. The Kolos settles and somehow stays afloat, now a raft.
Solet says, “Great shot. Mylla, tell the Kolos to use the dinghy to bring her survivors to us. Then we’ll use it to pick up those in the water. Let’s see if they complain now about having to learn to swim. Jos, bring us astern so we can cover them better.”
Mylla isn’t paying attention, though. She’s looking at what the rider dropped onto the stern deck. She holds it up for the others to see: a dragonskin boot.
Jos says, “Looks like one of yours.”
Solet sniffs the inside of the boot. “Tuse’s,” he says. “That’s one way to throw down the gauntlet.”
Jos says. “He’s saving you for last.”
Mylla finishes flashing. “Why? Who is it? How did he get the boot?” she asks, and then laughs. “How did he get a dragon?”
“No idea,” Solet says. “Plenty of people resented Tuse and me jumping up to our commands. Having a dragon would certainly jump him over us, so why bother with all this?” They watch the gray fly in a broad circle. It’s becoming more of a ghost with every minute the dusk deepens. “He knows his business: how we’re armed, how long our reach is, that we’re ready for him. And he didn’t cut us from the herd; he used the green to cut the herd away from us.”
“So what’s he waiting for?” Jos says.
“Night,” Solet says. Ah is barely above the horizon and Med is lost again. “Mylla, flash the Pyg.”
There’s no response. She flashes again. Solet reads the concern in her flashing. He doesn’t want Barad dead, but if he is, what a song this tragedy will make. Still no response.
“It was a long shot,” he tells her. “It might not be dark enough for them to see the flashing at this distance. Jos, as soon as the survivors are on board, get us to shore as fast as possible. I have a plan to deal with the rider there. I will have that gray. In the meantime anchor a buoy and attach it to the dragon so we can dredge it up later and render whatever the crabs don’t.”
Jos passes Mulcent at the top of the ladder. “Attack the rider,” the shipowner says. “I must have that dragon.”
Mylla sees the dragon look in Solet’s eyes as he takes the oar. “As you indicated, the operation’s at an end,” he says. “I assumed you were coming to relieve me now that the dragon’s been taken. Jos can return us to Hanosh once we’ve gathered the survivors.” He takes off his goggles and bandana.
“Conditions have changed,” Mulcent says. “It’s a fire-breather.”
“We aren’t equipped to capture so small a dragon alive,” Solet says. “Certainly not one that’s being ridden. The risks and costs are unpredictable.”
“Forget the risks!” Mulcent says. “Forget the costs!”
Sumpt appears on the ladder. “Did I just hear that?”
“Our arrangement,” Solet says, “calls for us to be paid in render or a percentage of its realized value. This dragon would be more useful ridden than as parts or a gland for milking. So where’s the profit in my capturing it?”
“We can reorganize our terms later,” Mulcent says, “when we have more time.”
“Ah, but I am Ynessi,” Solet says. “We live for the present. Do you know that the old Ynessi word for ‘now’ is the same as that for ‘forever’?”
No, it’s not, Mylla thinks.
“There’s paper and ink in your cabin,” Solet says. “Let’s draw up a new agreement quickly before we’re attacked again.”