“You believe this man’s offer to be of value,” Lady Astonby said, once I had explained the situation to her.
“Yes. I know that most would consider such information to be insignificant at best; but I believe it may be a discovery of great import to my field. And while draconic studies are not so impressive as the movement of armies, achievements in that area do raise our credit with other nations.”
Lady Astonby studied me with a gaze that took in everything and gave nothing back. “But gaining that information requires you to support the Khiam revolutionaries. I would not have expected you to extend such charity to the Yelangese.”
She had observed the Battle of Keonga, and I had to assume she knew of my other unpleasant encounters. I said, “I have been kidnapped, threatened, and otherwise mistreated by Eiversch, Bulskoi, Chiavorans, Yembe, Ikwunde, Keongans, Akhians, and my own countrymen. If I allowed that to discourage me, I should soon become a hermit, trusting no one at all.”
It was a pert answer more than an honest one, but Lady Astonby allowed it to stand for the time being. “You have said in your publications and letters that you believe the Draconeans bred a unique species for their use. Do you think this specimen might be an example of that creature?”
I knew perfectly well that if I said “yes,” my odds of success would go up dramatically. In theory any extinct variety should be of scientific interest; but that one, of course, was the Lost Ark of paleontological draconic research. Unfortunately, that would have been untrue, and I am not a very good liar. “As much as I might hope so, Lady Astonby, I doubt it. There were Draconean settlements in the lower reaches of the Mrtyahaima, but not up at the elevations where soft tissue might be preserved. And although we have evidence of breeding in various parts of the world, developmental lability makes it quite unlikely that the same species could have been bred in such a cold climate. Not without a great deal of effort, at least.”
No doubt to Lady Astonby it looked like artifice when I hesitated. Upon my honour, though, it was genuine inspiration that made me go on to say, “Unless they bred more than one sort. Which is possible, I suppose.”
The countess’s eyebrows rose. “I see. But that is nothing more than speculation.”
“I’m afraid so. Nonetheless…” I bit my lip, casting my gaze toward the ceiling. “I do not recall whether any breeding grounds have been discovered in the local ruins. My husband would know. Though of course a great deal depends on what we mean by ‘local’—as we do not know where in the Mrtyahaima the specimen was found.”
My intellectual enthusiasm had begun to run away with me once more. Lady Astonby brought me back to earth with a pointed question. “Other than greater scientific knowledge, what gain is there for Scirland in extending the hand of friendship to these revolutionaries?”
It was clear that my plea had made no impression, and was unlikely to do so. Still, I could not give up yet. “They oppose the Taisên,” I said lamely.
“And if their rebellion were going well, that might be of use to us. Of course, if it were going well, they would not need our aid. So we are asked to gamble upon the possibility that they might succeed in overthrowing the Taisên.”
Such a result would be beneficial to us in the long run, as it would remove an unfriendly dynasty and replace it with one that had reason to view us as friends. In the short term, however, it would require us to lay out resources and manpower, with no certainty of return. The mathematics of it made my head ache: this was why I stayed away from politics whenever I could. I was comfortable with risking my own life, but not those of our nation’s soldiers.
Lady Astonby’s gaze became curious. “Let us lay aside for the moment the question of the revolutionaries’ chances, and the logistics of their rebellion. And let us also lay aside this dragon specimen of which you are so enamoured. Speaking only of the personal level—or the moral, if you will—do you truly support this alliance?”
When people asked my political opinion, their true question was usually whether I would support their pet cause or not. If Lady Astonby had any such purpose in mind, though, I could not discern it; and so I gave her question due thought, sitting silently for a long minute.
Finally I said, “There is a degree of hypocrisy in our opposition to the Taisên. Our two nations detest one another because we are too much alike: both of us are grabbing for territory and resources. We condemn them for their rapacity, and I would not be surprised to learn they condemn us for the same reason. But I do not believe we will ever find peace with the Taisên, and a continuation of the Aerial War will not be good for anyone—least of all the people whose lands we fight over. If the Khiam Siu take power, we might at least end that conflict. So yes, I support it.” Then I permitted myself a small, deprecating smile. “But if you ask me to swear that my own self-interest plays no role in that statement, I’m afraid I shall have to decline.”
Lady Astonby nodded, as if she had reached a decision. “So Lady Trent supports the Khiam Siu. We can use that.”
I had cause to regret my words in the weeks that followed. Use me they did, in ways I should have predicted, were I not so determinedly naive in the realm of politics. Lady Trent extending the hand of friendship to the Yelangese made a noteworthy symbol, given my history of hostility with that people: they arranged for me to do so not just metaphorically but literally, during a diplomatic meeting with representatives from both the Khiam rebellion (including their would-be emperor, Giat Jip-hau) and members of the Synedrion. And that, of course, was only the beginning. I sat through endless state dinners, smiled and made small talk with Yelangese men and women who were as single-minded in pursuit of their cause as I was in pursuit of dragons. We had very little in common, and I found myself recalling, almost with longing, my perilous experiences in other parts of the world. At least there, I felt I was equal to the challenge.
In the end, however, I cannot complain too much. Thu Phim-lat obtained his alliance, and I obtained access to his notes.
*
“Is this all?” I said, gesturing at the small notebook on the table in my study.
Mr. Thu shrugged apologetically. “There was only the one specimen, Lady Trent, and only a few scraps of it at that. How much could I record?”