Add a pinch of powdered magestone, the recipe continued. Eynon picked up the phial that Peregrína had left on the table for him. Through its clear sides he could see flecks of blue, green, purple, and black. There were even a few bits of red in the mixture. He took a generous pinch, opened the top of the sphere holding the gold, and let the magestone powder sift down between his fingers where it was soon distributed into the mixture by the churning bubbles.

  Freeze the pig’s bladder and dip it in the gold mixture until it is fully coated. Giving himself a silent admonishment not to get cocky—like he had at the Tempest Isles—Eynon formed a small sphere of solidified sound inside the larger one where the melted gold bubbled. That sphere was the substitute for the frozen pig’s bladder called for by the recipe. He slowly expanded both the inner and outer spheres of solidified sound until the inner one was two feet in diameter.

  That’s the size most communications rings expand to, he considered.

  Then a loud sound like thunder combined with hail on a slate roof disturbed his concentration. Both spheres expanded from two feet to eight feet wide before Eynon could regain his focus. He was lucky the kitchen had high ceilings.

  “What is that noise?” asked Eynon as the disconcerting booming and drumming continued.

  “Noise?” asked Rōlin.

  “I think he means the elk herd,” said Peregrína. “We hardly notice them now. Some wolves or night-hunting gryffons must have frightened them. Our house is between two of their ranges.”

  “It could be worse,” said Rōlin.

  “Yes,” said Peregrína. “It could be wisents. They bump the house logs from time to time when they pass through.”

  “Let me know if you expect any migrating wisents tonight, please,” said Eynon. I’m going to try to finish making these rings.”

  “Of course,” said Peregrína.

  “From now on we’re definitely going to use spheres of solidified sound for heating metal instead of crucibles,” said Rōlin. “That’s very clever. Are you ready to pour?”

  “Unless I’m interrupted by a thousand migrating dragons,” said Eynon. He tried to blot out the sound of the elk herd and shrank the spheres down from eight feet to just a few inches and dispelled the inner sphere. It had done its work—perhaps a bit too well.

  “A thousand migrating dragons,” said Rōlin softly behind him.

  “Wouldn’t that be something,” whispered Peregrína.

  Pour the gold and powdered magestone mixture into your prepared mold. Eynon mentally scolded himself for not crafting his mold first. He held the sphere with the molten gold under tight control while visualizing a thick band decorated with a double row of apples. It was easier than he’d expected to keep the sphere with the gold and the solidified sound mold in his head simultaneously. Perhaps after all the illusions he’d generated to build a duplicate of Riyas, Tamloch’s capital, he was getting better at creating and maintaining complex constructs.

  Eynon created a narrow tube leading from the sphere with the molten gold to the construct forming the ring mold. Bright liquid flowed down the tube and exactly filled the mold, leaving no gold remaining in the solidified sound crucible.

  Prime the spell with three chimes

  “Three chimes?” asked Eynon.

  “Of course,” said Rōlin. “Communications rings always have three chimes. It’s tradition.”

  Peregrína held three narrow metal tubes strung on wires above her head and tapped each of them in turn with a small mallet, making clear, bell-like tones. The gold in the mold vibrated sympathetically, soaking up the sound.

  Bind the thick ring as one with a word or phrase of command.

  “Síarad â chi!” he said in a firm voice, binding a trigger phrase that had popped unbidden into his mind. Three notes, exact duplicates of the chimes, echoed inside the kitchen, signifying the linkage was successful.

  Bisect the thick ring before it cools completely.

  Eynon dispelled the crucible and held his hand out to sense the heat level in the mold. It was cooling rapidly, so he didn’t need to remove heat from it with wizardry. The recipe said the next step should be done while the thick ring was still warm, so he stopped maintaining the mold construct and smiled at the way the decorative apple design appeared. The upper and lower parts of the ring were identical. Eynon neatly cut the thick ring horizontally into two equal parts. He caught both in his outstretched palm.

  Behind him, Eynon heard Rōlin and Peregrína clapping.

  “Well done,” said Rōlin. “That was impressive, young man.”

  “I knew I was right to encourage him to experiment,” said Peregrína. Eynon could sense her smile without turning around. “I’ve never seen decorated communications rings before. They’re always plain bands.”

  “There may be a good reason for the lack of decoration on communications rings,” said Rōlin. “We have to confirm this pair work properly first before we get too excited.”

  Eynon rotated to face his hosts and extended the hand that held the rings. “Can we test them, then?” he asked. “Or do we need to let them sit a bit and finish cooking, like a pork roast taken from the oven?”

  Peregrína laughed. “No need to wait,” she said. “The recipe is complete.”

  “They will either work or they won’t,” said Rōlin. “I’ll take one out on the back porch and we’ll see what happens.”

  “Couldn’t you just go to the far end of the kitchen?” asked Eynon.

  Rōlin laughed this time. “You’ve clearly never used two communications rings in the same room before,” he said. “Sounds from one ring are picked up by another and the noise level quickly gets unbearable.” He reached for one of the rings, holding it between his thumb and forefinger, and went through the sturdy door leading out of the kitchen.

  “Mind the wolves,” said Peregrína to Rōlin’s departing back. They couldn’t hear his answer.

  Shortly, the ring still resting on Eynon’s palm began to vibrate and three familiar tones sounded. He tugged on the ring and it expanded—then kept on expanding until it was eight feet in diameter. Eynon and Peregrína could see Rōlin standing at the far end of the back porch, illuminated by a small glow ball.

  “That’s interesting,” said Rōlin from the other side of the interface, which didn’t have the same familiar shimmer as the communications rings Eynon had seen before. A moth that had been flitting around Rōlin’s glow ball crossed the interface and circled a wizard lamp in the kitchen. Rōlin stepped through the interface, collapsing the ring behind him as he came, and shook Eynon’s hand.

  “Well done, young man,” said Rōlin. “Most impressive.”

  “We’re definitely going to need to add a new recipe,” said Peregrína.

  Chapter 15

  Night Flight

  Magister Callidus was bored as they flew through the dark, but he couldn’t sleep. He glanced at his compass again, confirmed they were still flying northwest, and wondered if Xaxidiánus was bored as well. Given the fact he was riding on the dragon’s back, he might as well ask him. It would help to pass the time.

  “Is this as dull for you as it is for me?” asked Callidus. He had to amplify his voice with magic so it would carry over the rush of wind from their passage and be heard through the protective wedge of solidified sound around his body.

  “I think not,” rumbled Xaxidiánus. “I have never been to Orluin and am looking forward to exploring somewhere new.”

  “You don’t think one land is much like another?” asked Callidus.

  “Of course not, and neither do you,” said Xaxidiánus. “I remember how much you talked about the beautiful scenery in Princess Pyréné’s Mountains three years ago when we were putting down those rebellious shepherds. After we’d won our victory, I was basking in a high meadow beside a waterfall deep in the mountains and you were going on about how you’d never seen a place more lovely.”

  “You have me there, my friend,” replied Callidus. “That was a moment of weakness when I’d suppressed my natural cynicism and highly cultivated sense of ennui.”

  “That must be it,” said Xaxidiánus.

  Callidus could feel the vibrations of the dragon’s laughter through the leather of his saddle and its fleece padding.

  “Are dragons ever bored?” asked Callidus after a dozen of the dragon’s powerful wing beats.

  “Have you ever owned a cat?” asked Xaxidiánus.

  “What’s that got to do with being bored?” asked Magister Callidus. “Or the price of fresh lavender in the trading markets of Narbo, for that matter?”

  “Answer the question,” insisted the dragon.

  “Yes,” said Callidus. “I once owned a cat, though the matter of who owned whom remained open for debate.”

  “As with all felines,” said Xaxidiánus. “Sírénae thinks she owns her dragons, but—well—that’s a different topic.”

  More draconic laughter vibrated up from below Callidus.

  “Does this diversion have a point?” asked the mage.

  “It does,” said Xaxidiánus. “Dragons, like cats, are predators. We know how to conserve our energy, then pounce when prey is at hand and it’s time to attack.”

  Now Callidus laughed.

  “What?” asked Xaxidiánus.

  “I’m picturing a dragon attacking a mouse.”

  “Small dragons fresh from their shells eat rats,” noted Xaxidiánus. He sounded a bit affronted that Callidus would laugh at a mental image of any dragon. Xaxidiánus and his kind took great care to protect their dignity.

  “Are you trying to say that dragons are never bored because they sleep instead?” asked Callidus.

  “Say ‘nap’ rather,” said Xaxidiánus. “Sleeping makes it sound like dragons are lazy.”

  “But they are, aren’t they?” asked Magister Callidus, knowing it would provoke a reaction.

  Xaxidiánus made a deep, angry rumbling growl like far off rolls of thunder.

  “Present company excepted,” said Callidus quickly.

  The rumbling growl changed to draconic laughter.

  “Of course they are,” said Xaxidiánus. “We are. Dragons’ internal congruencies help us fly, breathe fire, and regulate our temperatures, but we still need a lot of food to keep our hides and hearts together. If we didn’t rest most of the time, we’d need to spend all day hunting.”

  “And there are only so many fish in the sea,” said Callidus.

  “Or sheep on the hillsides,” said Xaxidiánus, snapping his jaw closed for punctuation.

  Callidus could imagine the look on the imperial dragon’s face as Xaxidiánus considered consuming a few fat ewes, plus a well-fed goat or two for extra flavor. The magister rubbed his eyes. He was getting sleepy, so he opened a small hole in the wedge of solidified sound in front of him to let in a blast of cold air. It swirled around his face and made the tops of his ears cold before he closed the opening. After a few minutes and consideration of just how much he could trust the discretion of Xaxidiánus, he spoke.

  “I think I’m tired, my friend,” said Callidus. “Not just tired right now, tired in general.” He put his warm hands on his ears, then pulled them down. “I’ve worked side by side with Sírénae, helping her for more than three decades, from before she had her first legion, and I’m not looking forward to the struggle ahead.”

  “I see,” said Xaxidiánus. “You’d hoped to retire when she stepped down as a tetrarch?”

  “Only in my dreams,” said Callidus. “I’d considered building an isolated tower in the mountains where I could spend my last years. I wanted to put it in that meadow by the waterfall you’d mentioned but knew it would never happen. Sírénae would never step down or retire. She was and still is determined to hold the reins of all four of the Imperium’s empires in her hands.”

  “But it turned out the other three tetrarchs had something to say about her ambitions?” asked Xaxidiánus. His deep voice trailed off, encouraging Callidus to say more.

  “Rule of the entire Imperium hasn’t been in one person’s hands since the days of Antonia Ferox,” said Magister Callidus. “And she had the wisdom to split it in two.”

  “Then it was further split into three and four empires,” said Xaxidiánus. “I listened to my tutors when I was small. Twenty years from now, maybe a unified Orluin under Roma rule will be the fifth division and there will be five emperors?”

  “A pentarchy?” said Magister Callidus. “I’m too old to deal with that. I’ve helped Sírénae stabilize the west, cemented her hold on the Green Isle, and led her wizards against invaders from Northland in their dragonships.”

  “Dragonships, hah!” snorted Xaxidiánus. “One dragon smaller than I am could burn a hundred of their ships.”

  “I know, my friend,” said Callidus. “But we needed our black dragons to counter their gold dragons. And that was before the treaty the tetrarchs signed with the king of Nordland, allowing his kingdom’s continued independence in return for annual tributes of fish, furs, amber, slaves, and soldiers.”

  “True,” said the dragon, as if lamenting a lost opportunity. “The Nordlanders are nearly as tall as Valens’ Southern Empire warriors and make impressive imperial guards in Byzantium, from what I hear. Not that it’s easy for me to tell one human from another.”

  “If you expect me to believe that, you’ll have to try harder,” said Callidus, chuckling. Dragons were skilled at feigning ignorance when it worked to their advantage.

  “I’m one of the largest dragons in all four empires,” said Xaxidiánus, blowing steam from his nostrils to emphasize his words. “I can fight off gold dragons and destroy dragonships at the same time. I’m almost sorry the Nordlanders signed the treaty.”

  “You’ll soon have a chance to prove yourself against the dragons of Dâron, Tamloch, Bifurland, and Occidens Province,” said Magister Callidus. “Though I haven’t heard word about dragons anywhere on this side of the Ocean except for Bifurland’s golds, and they’re supposed to be no bigger than horses.”

  “Nordland wouldn’t allow eggs out of their kingdom until twenty years ago,” said Xaxidiánus.

  “Something about a dispute over a Bifurlander settlement on the north shore of the Smoking Isle?” asked Callidus.

  “Yes,” said Xaxidiánus. “The Bifurlanders settled there without permission, then traveled overland to steal a clutch of eggs from a Nordland settlement where they were warming.”

  “Humans are always seeking advantage over other humans,” said Callidus.

  “The same can be said for dragons,” responded Xaxidiánus. “It’s one reason why we work well together.”

  “Except when you’re trying to eat us,” teased the magister, referring to an incident in an isolated mountain valley three years ago.

  “Those were wild dragons,” said Xaxidiánus.

  “I doubt their victims’ orphaned children would care about that distinction,” teased Callidus. He leaned back in his saddle and followed the steady rhythm of his huge black mount’s wing beats. “How are you holding up?” he asked.

  “Fine,” said Xaxidiánus. “We’re more than halfway now and should reach the coast of Orluin before dawn.”

  “If you need a rest or a snack, let me know,” said Callidus. “I can hover if you spot a pod of sea wolves.”

  “Perhaps later,” said the dragon. Dragons could easily dive into the water, then launch themselves back skyward with their prey, but the acrobatics involved wouldn’t be comfortable for passengers.

  Callidus yawned.

  “Rest your eyes,” said the dragon. “I can keep our course by the stars for a few hours. You’ll need to be at your best when you meet with Quintillius and Laetícia.”

  “Thank you, my friend,” said the magister. “I’m weary and need to store up my energy for one last fight.”

  “You have more than one fight left in you,” said Xaxidiánus.

  “I hope so,” said Callidus. He leaned against his high saddle back and tried to sleep as Xaxidiánus flew on.

  * * * * *

  Back in her cabin on the Seahawk, Sírénae slowly removed a silver thimble from her ear, leaned forward, and smiled, showing teeth like twin rows of pearls. Magister Umbrose’s listening device embedded in the dragon saddle on the broad back of Xaxidiánus had worked well and revealed what she had expected.

  Her snow-gryffon shifted position at her feet, sensing Sírénae’s movement. The emperor ruffled Thraxa’s feathers and removed a mouse from a box holding half a dozen, delivered by a slave an hour ago. It squeaked in protest as Sírénae held it upside down by its tail then went permanently silent after it was tossed to the snow-gryffon.

  Thraxa caught the mouse in midair, swallowed it whole, and screeched her pleasure. She rubbed against the emperor’s leg, smoothing the mostly-white feathers on her raptor’s head flat again.

  Callidus is getting old and tired, thought Sírénae. But he was still loyal to me, as much as any of my subordinates are truly loyal. He’s weak, and insufficiently ruthless for my taste, but we make an effective combination. I provide the hard mailed fist and Callidus the soft silk glove. If I needed to sacrifice him in the coming struggle it would be unfortunate, though trading a valued minister for an enemy monarch is often the price of victory in shah-mat or my imperial calculations.

  She fed Thraxa another mouse then put the tips of her fingers together in contemplation. Umbrose won’t do as a replacement—he’s too valuable in his current role and prefers working behind the scenes. I’ll have to see if one of the wizards working for Callidus can be groomed for the job or consider an ambitious mage from Orluin as a candidate to take his position.

  There was sure to be someone suitable.

  Chapter 16

  Ad Hoc Gate Lessons

 

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