“What’s the matter, Blazewing, miss your nose-rings?” AuRon called back.

“Steady there, AuRon,” NiVom said.

A big green dragon-dame shouldered through the males. “AuRon! Good to see you again, you old chameleon. How is Natasatch?” AuRon recognized her as one of the dragonelles who’d been chained in the dark next to his mate.

“Well enough, Hermethea. So you found a berth at the dragon tower, too?”

“I tried inland, but I missed the taste of cod and lobster. I like the air here when I wish to fly and the smell of other dragons when I sleep. I’m surprised to find you off your isle. We all thought you meant to leave your bones there.”

AuRon introduced her to Wistala and DharSii. Wistala thought her nice enough, though a bit bug-eyed.

At last their brother joined the throng on the broken ground leading up to the tower. Wistala decided that the tower would be almost impossible to attack from either land or sea if it were defended by soldiers. It would take dragons in the air to destroy it.

“So here you are,” the Copper said. An old woman who had been leaning on both him and a cane for support listened in. “Just in time for war.”

“We came to give you news, and assistance if you need it,” Wistala said. She and DharSii took turns explaining the attack on Vesshall and the ship-burning raid on the Aerial Host camp.

Wistala asked, “What happened to the dragonhelm?”

“Some locals we’d hired as guides filched it. Odd bunch—dressed poor but rich as Hypatian merchant fleeters. They hired the dragon tower to go after some dwarfs. Fortunately for me, we came to another arrangement. They’ve joined the tower, but we lost a few things when the humans decamped. Turned out they were professional thieves.”

“They could not have traveled fast with bags of gold,” DharSii said. “Did you hunt them?”

“They just took jewelry. Killed poor young Longfang, who was on watch at the gate, as they escaped. Some gems the dwarfs had, and a belt with a great crystal, and my dragonhelm, which is nothing but silver, and the Wyrmaster’s old circlet of dragon-wings, which is nothing but copper wire and would hardly buy a new rowboat. I suppose they thought they might sell it south, in the Empire. We sent a couple dragons down the old north road, but no sign of them. One of the Empire dragons rose up from that town Quarryness to challenge them, and couldn’t give a broken piece of scale about helping us track murdering thieves. Said it was none of our business, as if a blood debt and recovery of our own could be anyone else’s. Our dragons turned around rather than start a fight.”

“We’d feared you were dead,” Wistala said.

The Copper snorted. “I feared it myself for a moment, down in the tunnels with the dwarfs. But it worked out in the end. They joined the tower on a temporary basis, until they build up enough wealth to reestablish themselves, perhaps on the wild coast across the Inland Ocean.”

“If we’re to have a council of war,” the old woman said, “might we do it indoors out of the wind?”

They all agreed to continue inside the tower. They took over the lowest level, which had the most floor space between the alcoves. Wistala saw an old design in the floor tiles, a human figure with outstretched arms and legs encompassed by a circle. The circle had at one time been painted with gold, but it was heavily flaked. She suspected the dragons had been licking at it.

Men of Juutfod, so hairy they could have passed for tall dwarfs, served the inevitable mutton and honey-mead for dragons with a sweet tooth, and water with lime for those who preferred sour. Meager rations, but welcome after their days of flying from the Sadda-Vale.

Hermethea and another of the fliers attended, as well as Shadowcatch from the groundeds. It was a very informal council of war, more a series of quiet conversations among the groups of dragons.

Wistala found it touching the way Shadowcatch watched over her brother. It was hard to reconcile the lordly RuGaard from his throne in the Lavadome with the twisted, scarred, pinion-winged sulker from his years at the Sadda-Vale and the wretched hatchling who’d given his family over to slavers. She wondered if a third dragon had formed here in Juutfod, a creature of personal loyalties, just seeking the return of his mate.

DharSii was strange and remained in the background, as though still deciding which way to jump. He had his own interests in the history of the Lavadome, its connection to Anklemere, and above all the strange crystals that all seemed connected in some fashion. She’d heard him tense briefly when they mentioned the loss of the big crystal in the dwarf’s belt.

AuRon just wanted to know what he had to do to get back to his quiet life with his mate, Wistala decided.

“So they have declared war on us?” AuRon asked. “Are NiVom and Imfamnia settling old accounts?”

“I don’t believe the Dragon Empire considers us worth a war,” DharSii said. “To them, we’re an annoying blister. A small, sharp tooth will relieve whatever pain this little pustule causes them. That’s the only thing that explains so meager an effort.”

The Copper thought for a moment. “Or they were trying to provoke you into rashness.”

“Might we inspire others to join us?” Wistala asked. “I’ve been to the Lavadome recently. The few remaining dragons down there resent those on the surface. They are literally being bled dry to fund NiVom’s need to fill his treasury and Rayg’s experiments.”

“Even were we to throw the whole strength of the dragon tower against the empire, we could be defeated by the Hypatians, with just the dragons who live there,” the Copper said. “We’d be a setback, nothing more. A few sparrows can spook a horse and throw it off stride. We might trip them, briefly.”

“We can’t oppose them by force, then,” DharSii said.

“Alone, no,” the Copper said. “We need allies.”

“Who would dare go against the Empire?” AuRon asked.

“What about the princedoms of the Sunstruck Sea?” Shadowcatch said. “They’re already under attack.”

“They’re divided,” AuRon said. “They don’t trust dragons, for one. There are language difficulties. Though there are so many of them. City after city. It would take all the dragons of the Empire just to put one dragon in each.”

“They probably will wage just enough war to force a reasonable tribute from the princes, as Ghioz did,” the Copper said.

Wistala said, “I have friends in the north, among the Hypatians. They may be enough.”

Gettel, who’d left another conversation and joined their group, rapped her cane on one of the old mosaic stones. “According to the tribesmen north of Juutfod, the Empire is demanding a vast levy in cattle from the barbarians. If they pay, it means there will be starvation in nearly every village. They wonder how, after giving up so many cattle, they will ever be able to pay next year’s tribute if one is demanded, or the one after that. It takes a long time to replace a cattle-herd. In the meantime, no milk for the children. They and the Hypatians are old enemies. Long ago, they sacked the city and occupied it briefly. That’s a story still told beside every hearth in the barbarian lands. They might be up for another try at them. I’ve had emissaries from the chiefs’ visit, asking for help dealing with the dragons. The barbarians can handle anything but fire from the air—it terrifies them.”

“One dragon, to a barbarian, is dangerous,” she continued. “Two would be a calamity. Three and there would be some who’d take ship and risk the icy coast rather than stay among them.”

“And six?” DharSii asked.

“I’m not sure they can count that high. It requires a second hand,” AuRon said.

The dragons, save Wistala, chuckled at that. She’d seen the barbarians in their war against the dwarfs. If aroused, they were a terrible foe. She wondered if NiVom knew that, or saw only a vast expanse of villages connected by a few pack-trader trails and hunting tracks.

AuRon said the barbarians were very much like the wolves of the forest. They had no one king, but numerous chiefs. Getting the chiefs to unite in any permanent fashion was impossible. In the short term, they might unite in order to raid and plunder after a bad summer, or the loss of livestock to disease.

“Do we really want another war?” Wistala said.

“If the Empire falls in the manner of Silverhigh, that’s the end of dragons,” AuRon said. “I think it’s inevitable. Once the Hypatians decide they are strong enough, they’ll overthrow the dragons themselves.”

The dragons absorbed AuRon’s words. All had heard legends of the days of death at the fall of Silverhigh. For an age afterward, dragons had hidden and scattered, until the Copper had brought them back to the surface.

“That would be the end of us,” the Copper said.

“They might rebuild on clan basis. Skotol and so on,” DharSii said. “There are still strong affiliations, though since the civil wars and Tyr Fehazathant, clan affiliations have been discouraged and he did all he could to break up the old allegiances.”