Scales and chief alchemist of the realms, stepped nervously out in front of the throne. He’d taken a long time to adjust to his position, Vale thought, but was just now starting to act the part. His predecessor, Bellepheros, who should have lasted a good few years more, had simply vanished one day nearly six months ago. Coincidentally, on his way back from Furymouth. Vale supposed that Grand Master Jeiros had spent most of the first few months expecting his former master to reappear.
‘Your Holiness,’ he began. He sounded confident these days. ‘We are continuing to audit eyries in an attempt to ascertain whether—’
‘Yes, yes, yes. You’re still counting dragons, trying to work out whether the one that got away died or survived.’ Zafir straightened and stamped her foot. ‘When you have an answer, I’ll be delighted to hear it. Until then, I do not wish to hear daily complaints about how difficult it is.’
‘Your Holiness, if you would order a search of the Worldspine—’
‘And give Jaslyn and Almiri an excuse to fly their dragons right up to my doors? They might say they were searching, Grand Master, but that would not be what they were doing . If the white dragon is dead then it has been reborn to an eyrie. If it isn’t, it hasn’t. As you are so fond of reminding us, the number of dragons in the world never changes, so if the white died of your poisons, you can answer your question by counting them. Counting, Grand Master, is surely not too great a challenge, is it? Even Prince Tyrin can count. So when you can tell me that one of them is still missing then I shall listen with more open ears. Until then, no more excuses, alchemist. Now bring me other news.’
Jeiros paused for a moment. He was angry, Vale saw. That’s how far his confidence had grown. A month ago he would have been quivering. The speaker and her master alchemist were at odds. In their own different ways they were the two most powerful figures in the realms. Things like that made Vale uneasy. As Jeiros talked about the rebuilding of the alchemists’ redoubt, Vale carefully catalogued all the other things that made him uneasy. The Red Riders. Queen Shezira locked in the Tower of Dusk. Anything about Prince Jehal. The speaker’s council - the council had long ago become a farce, that was worst of all. Three of the dragon-realms didn’t even have a voice and Speaker Zafir was plainly bored by them. Now that Jehal was no longer present to entertain them with his wit, who would be first to abandon it? Prince Tichane, who spoke for the King of the Crags? Lord Eisal, who listened for King Sirion? Prince Sakabian, Zafir’s own cousin? One of the others? The alchemists, perhaps? Or would the speaker herself be the first to go?
Vale, however, was the commander of the Night Watch, and so he would come as he was called and he would listen, even if it was to the empty walls. Today what he heard was the master alchemist of the realms explain how they were still rebuilding the redoubt where the Order made the potions that kept the dragons in check. He heard Jeiros describe in terse detail the damage that had been done by the smoke that the white dragon had blown into the caves, the current poor quality of the whatever it was that they harvested in there, their shortages of men and resources. In a very roundabout way, what he thought he heard was that the potions that kept the realms alive might soon run short. That a wise man would begin planning now for a cull of dragons. No one else though seemed to quite hear the same thing. When Jeiros was done, Zafir batted him away with some scalding remark. No more men would be forthcoming. The same answer as she’d given him day after day after day for weeks now. Vale, who had ten thousand soldiers sitting idle in their barracks, couldn’t help but wonder why.
Other men came and went, most of them with little to say of any interest. Vale listened anyway. A war was
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