Adale wondered if there was such a thing as a Lesser Northern Dragon.
It rapidly became apparent that the author of this tome, whoever he was, had been a bit of an eccentric. He’d stalked entire groups (“flights,” he’d called them) over mountaintops and across countries, armed with only a notepad and a sketchbook, to study how they interacted with one another and what the stages in their life cycle looked like. The illustrations were interesting to look at, but Adale had a feeling he didn’t know any more about the Emperor Dragon than she did. While old, the book had been written long after the dragons had stopped communicating with mankind. Everything this author knew came from observation alone.
He did seem to have his suspicions about dragon intelligence, though. Sprinkled throughout the book were anecdotes that suggested the dragons were far wiser than ordinary beasts. But, he added, the dragons had learned his scent and knew he was observing them. If only he could have watched them in secret, to see how they behaved when they believed no eyes were upon them.
Adale didn’t usually do much reading, but this book contained enough tales of risk and danger and aerial dominance fights to keep her awake. Even the disgusting descriptions of molting and the explanations of how a mother dragon would breathe fire onto her egg to keep it warm were actually far more interesting than she’d thought they’d be.
Adale was drawn from the book by the sound of her own stomach growling. Surprised, she looked out the window and saw the sun was directly overhead—she’d spent the entire morning reading.
Adale set the bookmark between the pages and closed the book. She doubted she’d be allowed to take something so old and fragile out of the library, so she returned it to the shelf and decided to go in search of food.
The afternoon meal was already being set out, but Adale found she was having trouble focusing on what was in front of her. Her mind seemed somewhere far away, tracking wild dragons across the north, even while her body sat at the familiar long table. She ate quickly and spoke to nobody—fortunately, nobody tried to speak to her, either. In less than half an hour, she was back at the library, book in hand, her chair still warm.
She finished the rest of the book that day, but despite the wealth of new information about dragons, she still had nothing about the emperor that Esofi’s dragon had spoken of. Still, there was an entire shelf of books that she hadn’t read yet. Adale resolved to return the following day to see if her luck would be any better.
The next day, she was back again with the rising of the sun, so early that she had to wait outside the doors for the head librarian to arrive and unlock them. This time, she was a little bit more discerning with her selection. While she thought Esofi would be incredibly impressed if she read every single dragon-related book in the library, she knew they didn’t have that kind of time. So after a few more fruitless hours, she decided to approach the librarian who had helped her previously—they had seemed more friendly and approachable than the others.
“Excuse me,” whispered Adale. “I need some help.”
The librarian looked up from their work and smiled. “Of course, Crown Princess. Are you still looking for dragons?”
“Right. But I don’t know if I’m finding what I need here,” said Adale. “These books are all fairly recent. I think I probably want something older. Legends, maybe.”
The librarian nodded. “I see. You might find more at the Temple of Talcia, then.”
“What do you mean?” asked Adale.
“You know that when Inthi forged Inthya it was little more than a molten stone until the other gods filled it with their gifts,” said the librarian, citing the creation story that all children knew. “Iolar’s gift was mankind. Talcia’s was the magical beasts of the wilds, including the dragons.”
Adale had always known what Talcia’s contribution to the world had been, but she’d never made the connection to the dragons. It seemed wrong that one of the Ten had created such terrible creatures. They were the sort of thing she’d expect from one of those frightening Elven gods, perhaps.
Elves had been banned from all of Ioshora centuries ago, but two had come on behalf of their king in hopes of reopening the border when Adale was very young. None of the regents of Ioshora had chosen to take the elves up on their offer.
Elves didn’t look so different from Men; they had two legs, two arms, and one head apiece. But there was such a coldness in their eyes, and the way they walked and gestured reminded Adale of the way a spider zigzagged across the floor when it ran. It was as though, Countess Amala had murmured later, someone had taken a creature with lots of limbs and poured it into a Man’s body. Not even the Mer, with their rows and rows of triangular teeth, had ever made Adale feel so cold inside.
But she had seen the carving of the dragon on the courtyard wall when she’d visited the temple with Esofi that day. Perhaps the priestesses did know something—though she wasn’t sure if any of them would have the time to help her, considering the influx of new mages. People were starting to come to the city from the surrounding farmland, looking to master their new gifts.
Still, it would impress Esofi and that was the most important thing, or perhaps the most important thing was protecting the city against the emperor and impressing Esofi was only the second most important thing. Adale decided she wouldn’t get tangled up in the details. Leaving her waiting ladies behind, she set off for the Temple of Talcia.
The Temple District was never very crowded, even though it was home to the great temples of almost every deity worshipped in Ieflaria. There were a few notable exceptions: the Great Temple of Inthi was located in Inthi’s District, where the craftsmen and smiths of Birsgen worked, and the Great Temple of Merla was not in Birsgen at all—it was a hundred miles away on the eastern coast, in Valenleht.
Adale didn’t have far to walk because the temples of the Ten were closest to the castle. She traveled slowly, enjoying the morning sunlight and mild breeze. The Temple of Iolar was busiest, with a few elders conversing on the steps—Adale guessed they’d been at the sunrise service and had nothing to do for the rest of the day. A priest argued vehemently with a paladin, and she suppressed a small laugh.
Across the street, dressed in full plate and wielding massive battleaxes, a few priestesses guarded the entryway to the Temple of Reygmadra, Goddess of Warfare. They were stoically ignoring their neighbors, the priestesses of Dayluue, who called hopefully to them as they tended to the roses growing around their own temple.
Adale arrived at the Temple of Talcia soon enough, crossed the courtyard, and entered the sanctum. She knew the students were in the main room where services were usually held, and when she went to the door, she could see the new mages doing…something.
“Can I help you?” asked a sharp voice.
Adale turned, and the priestess who had spoken gave a little start.
“I’m sorry, Crown Princess,” she said quickly. “I didn’t recognize you. Are you here to observe the training?”
“No,” said Adale, casting another glance into the room. Esofi was at the front, smiling and watching one of the instructors explain something to the students. “I was actually hoping I could look at the temple’s library.”
The priestess gave a nod. “Of course. It is upstairs—let me show you.”
Adale let the priestess lead her away from the sanctum and up a flight of stairs that she’d never truly noticed before. The walls were painted with scenes of the night sky that darkened as they ascended.
Upstairs was a wide-open room that looked like it was used for meetings. On both sides of the room were doors, one set plain and ordinary and the other oddly embellished with a familiar pattern. It took her a moment to realize where she knew the design from—it was identical to the tattoo on Esofi’s back, or at least, what she’d seen of it.