The sun was setting on our second day in Malyon, and we were in the middle of a lively conversation — trying to plan how to get the mules up that mess of rubble and soil that had stumped us — when Instinct demanded my attention.

  What? I asked sharply. I hadn't had much to add, but the discussion on how we might stage hauling the poor creatures up by rope had been surprisingly interesting.

  “When did you last call on your servants in the city?” she asked archly.

  A few days, maybe, I said. If not for her tone I wouldn't have liked the question one bit, but the slight amusement kept me from worrying too much. Why? What's going on?

  The dragon’s amusement grew. “Have you paid attention to where Tammy is? No, of course you have not. You try to keep her out of sight and out of mind. I suggest you do so now. Visit her mind! See what she is doing! I must say, little ghost, I am most pleased that we claimed her.”

  Oh, Mercies, what is she up to? I asked. My trust in Instinct had been growing, but that trust was pretty specifically that she wouldn’t betray me or Conscience, and that she could see beyond her immediate satisfaction when the stakes were high enough. Otherwise she was the source of many of my less benign qualities, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what Goddamn Tammy was doing that she found so entertaining.

  Then Conscience joined the conversation with a serious, I’m with Scaly! You should see this. Having her weigh in to support her opposite made my mind up. As much as I preferred to pretend that Tammy didn’t exist — as long as I knew that she was safe, that was — I had to see whatever had my two halves in agreement. And so, with a muttered warning to Mak that I’d not be paying attention for a bit, I focused and reached out to my most loyal and least favored minion.

  The world around Tammy swam into focus, and what I saw was nothing like what I’d expected. The air was cool and fragrant with the scents of pine and eucalyptus. Before her was a tent, either half-way to being raised or half-way to collapsing; it was hard to say which. Around that tent was a campsite, and beyond that, the darkening forest. That would have caused me quite enough consternation, but then Tammy scratched at the bandage covering her stump and when she looked up I saw who was struggling to raise the tent.

  It was Zabra.

  “Are you sure you do not want us to do it for you, Lady Blossom?” a male voice said from off to the side, and Tammy helpfully turned her head for a moment to look at the speaker. I didn’t recognize him at all, but a little ways off Hardal sat on a log by the cold firepit.

  “Thank you, but no,” Zabra replied, wiping the frustration from her face in favor of an appreciative smile. “I so rarely have the opportunity to pick up a new skill. Who knows when I’ll need to put up a tent in the future?”

  “If you’re sure, boss,” the man said, eyeing her handiwork dubiously. “Just, if you change your mind…”

  “You’ll be the first to know, Spar,” she said, turning back to make another attempt.

  I could barely pay attention as Zabra again failed to get both ends of the tent to stay up. The amusement was all but lost on me as I considered the immediate implication of what I was seeing. Tammy, Zabra, Hardal, and a bunch of their foot soldiers were setting up camp somewhere in the forest. And I recognised that site. I’d visited it a number of times. They were on the Forest Road, somewhere past the lake and Pine Hill, and they must be heading north.

  Why, oh why, were Tammy and Zabra coming north?

  I asked that very question of Instinct, and my opinion of her soured just a tad when she told me, “There have been Tekereteki agents searching for you in the city! It seems they took off north after learning that our humans had all left, and so Tammy and Zabra have taken it upon themselves to hunt the hunters. It has been most entertaining. I had not expected to see such gratifying initiative from them!”

  There were Tekereteki agents hunting me, and now two of my servants, neither of whom had any experience in the forest, were riding north. And you only thought to tell me this now? I asked. If I’d had hands to throw up at her, I would have! How long has this been going on?

  “They found out two nights ago, spent yesterday gathering information and preparing, and have ridden all day today. Did you see how determined Zabra is? And Tammy, so frustrated that Zabra will not let her help?”

  Yes, I saw, I huffed. Dammit, now I have to go talk to them.

  “Why? What could that possibly accomplish? The fact is that there are Tekereteki agents, most likely hunters of some kind, searching for us. We do not know where they are any more than Zabra or Tammy does. Would you tell them to turn back? That their efforts are misguided? Do you want them to discard all notions of taking initiative? Do not be a fool! Let them have their fun! They are both skilled fighters. So is Zabra’s man Hardal, and the men he has picked to accompany them are unlikely to be less than lethal.”

  Yeah, I’m with her! Conscience added. One, you’re supposed to be keeping everyone in Malyon safe. What, are you going to just leave them cooped up in the temple while you fly off to micromanage your other victims? Two, this is important! We have no idea who these people are, but they're following Mak and the others’ track toward you. And don't forget: Avjilan put an arrow through your scales at like two hundred meters. There are people out there who can hurt you, and who do you think Tekeretek would send after a bloody dragon? And three, perhaps most important, these two crave your approval above anything. Let them have this! Then, once it's done, praise the hell out of them! It’s the least you can do after what you’ve done to them.

  And if they get hurt? You said it yourself: who would Tekeretek send after me? Combat monsters, that's who!

  If they get hurt they’ll feel that it was worth it. And, look: their tracker says it's no more than three people they're following. Between Hardal and his heavies, they have this well in hand. Leave off them! Keep an eye on them if you must, but let them do this!

  Ugh, fine. I directed my attention toward Instinct instead. But why now? Why didn’t you let me know immediately?

  “I did not want you to interfere,” she replied, completely unbothered by my annoyance. “I would not have told you at all if not for that I thought you might find the Blossom’s struggles with the tent amusing.”

  I mean… I moved my perspective to Zabra, who’d now managed to collapse both ends of the tent. The Night Blossom, one of the main players of Karakan’s underworld, was cursing ever so softly; a constant stream of Barlean to make the most foul-mouthed sailor proud but too low for anyone but Tammy to hear. Yeah, I guess it is, I admitted. Thanks, I suppose.

  “You are most welcome.”

  That said, if something important happens in the future, would you be so kind as to let me know?

  Instinct put on a long-suffering tone and countered, “Will you insist we try to deal with every little thing on our own?”

  That wasn’t entirely fair. I didn’t get involved in everything that happened! Sure, I’d taken off south to grab Tammy when she was in trouble. And I had been flitting between north and south lately, trying to keep on top of everything and helping keep the front from collapsing. But I didn’t try to micromanage everything!

  Did I?

  We can discuss before I do anything, I conceded. I’d just really prefer to be kept aware of what’s happening with our people. What else has been going on that I’ve missed?

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  There was a drawn out silence, and then Conscience, not Instinct, said, Onur got stabbed a bit.

  Fucking WHAT?!

  Not badly! He’s fine! Recovering nicely! There was an assassination attempt against Lord Parvion and Onur stopped it.

  And you didn’t tell me? I asked. I wasn’t angry; I was bewildered. How could they not let me know something like that?

  No, because I knew you’d flip your shit, and I didn’t want you tearing off in the middle of a damn military operation when there was nothing you could do!

  I wouldn’t’ve—

  We share a head! Conscience’s tone was scathing. You’re thinking of going to fetch him right now! But you won’t, will you? Because that would be stupid and pointless.

  Of course I won’t! I protested. But I was thinking of it. She had me there. So what else have you been keeping from me? I asked, with only a hint of petulance.

  Barro’s had a message from the scholars. They’ve translated those scrolls they found. That’s it. And now you’re thinking of flying down to the city first thing tomorrow morning. At least get Herald and the others to that shrine before you take off!

  She had me there, too. As surprised as I’d been about Tammy and Zabra, and upset about Onur, I was twice as excited about getting my hands on those translations. I was undoubtedly going to be royally pissed off by a lot of what I read, if they’d been from or to Sekteretesh, but I burned with curiosity to learn more about my father and what had happened to him. Especially now that we’d just found the shrine to him, and the mural inside.

  When Mother arrived that evening she had an almost palpable smugness about her. I wanted to ask her what she’d done, but Instinct had other ideas. She launched into an excited recounting of what we’d found on the palace grounds, focusing as much on the buried treasure Sarina may have found as she did on the rotunda and the mural inside. She was so focused on her own story that she didn’t even notice how Mother reacted to the revelation that there was a shrine to Night in this city; how she grew so still that she seemed to stop breathing for a moment, and how her eyes grew huge and dark with interest. Everyone else did, though; when a dragon had an emotional reaction, everything else that lived and wanted to keep doing so became very careful. No one had been speaking while Instinct did, but when Mother stilled, so did the camp.

  When she finally noticed, Instinct looked around with annoyance. Then she seemed to realize that no one’s eyes were on her, and looked up at Mother, really seeing her for the first time since she started talking.

  “That round little building is a shrine?” Mother asked, with the closest thing to wonder that I’d ever heard from her.

  “Yes!” Instinct said. “With a very interesting mural inside!”

  “To Night?”

  “Him, or another black dragon. But I want it to be him! And the art is very good! Perhaps you would recognize him?”

  “I cannot believe that it was there all this time, and I never saw it.” Frustration and regret mingled in her voice, and she gave a big, disappointed huff. “How did you get in? You never said. I could not even see an entrance!”

  “Why did you not simply melt or break down a wall?” Instinct asked, practical as always.

  “Breaking down a wall could have collapsed the whole thing, and burning would have turned the inside into an inferno before I made it through. It seemed a shame to destroy one of the few buildings that had survived, when the chances were so low to find anything intact, no matter how interesting. But you did not answer my question.”

  “Oh. I could see the gates, just like the ones in the mountains. They have magic around them. And they opened the same way; they just took more magic to move. It was easy!”

  “They have magic around them,” Mother repeated flatly. “Explain.”

  “Shining lines of magic that outline them? Just like in the mountains!”

  Mother just looked at us.

  I don’t think she can see magic! I whispered to Instinct, utterly baffled how this had never come up before. We’d just assumed that all dragons could!

  “Mother,” Instinct said slowly, “what does it look like to you when someone uses magic?”

  “Like whatever the magic does,” she stated simply, leaning in. “I take it this is not the case with you.”

  “You do not see the golden light?”

  Mother looked at the humans gathered around me and decided that they weren’t anything to worry about. “No,” she said. “I do not see anything. I can feel magic. Smell it. Taste it in the air when it is strong enough. But not see it.” Then her eyes crinkled with amusement, and she gave a huffing draconic laugh. “That treacherous little serpent!” she boomed, her voice filled with mirth. “So that is how he did it! And— a golden light, you say?”

  “Yes! As beautiful to look at as gold itself.”

  This pleased Mother. “How do I look to you?” she asked, and I suspected that she’d guessed the answer.

  “Beyond your scales, which are very fetching,” Instinct said, “you shine like a furnace. There must be an incredible amount of magic inside you all the time.”

  “There is, little one,” Mother said, the deep rumble emanating from her chest telling us just how pleased she was with Instinct’s answer. “And though it will have grown since my time with your father, do you know what he called me, sometimes?”

  Instinct snorted. “How could I?”

  “He called me his second sun,” Mother said with immense pride and satisfaction. There was a soft, “Aaw!” from Herald, who apparently found this romantic enough to also find her voice. Mother gave her an appreciative look before continuing, “I thought he was referring to my flame, which was hot and bright even then. Now I am not so sure.”

  Instinct, who didn’t have a shred of romance in her soul, just commented, “That sounds like a very human thing to say.”

  “He did like his humans,” Mother replied agreeably. “Now, I should like very much to see this shrine. You will take me to it in the morning, before I leave on my patrol.”

  Ask her! I insisted to Instinct. Ask her why she was so smug when she got here today!

  Instinct did, with a great deal of feigned annoyance directed my way. I couldn’t say why she bothered; I could tell that she was as curious as I was once I’d pointed it out.

  “Oh, that!” Mother said. “I had quite forgotten! Yes, that arrogant young lady foolishly got close enough to trade some barbs today. The Unquenchable Flame At The Heart Of The Mountain speaks! She claims that if the pact is broken, she and her mate should be allowed to claim a territory on this island. I singed her tail, which was most satisfying, and she seems like the sort to only be spurred on by such humiliation. I hope to goad them into a proper fight soon!”

  “And you will win!” Instinct declared confidently.

  “So I shall!” Mother agreed, sitting up proudly to her full height. “And then I can finally be done with these interminable patrols. I crave a proper few days’ sleep.”

  I brought Mother to the palace grounds and the rotunda as the sun was rising. The previous day I hadn’t wanted to land in front of it, on what we thought was the palace courtyard; the trees grew too densely for me to set down safely with two passengers. Mother had no such problems. She simply landed. Out of deference for the shrine, she didn’t even use her flames. She just crashed down among the trees, letting branches snap under her weight, then shouldered aside any tree that inconvenienced her. They groaned and leaned, snapped, or simply tore out of the ground and fell, roots and all. It was a casual display of unmatchable physical might, and she barely slowed as she ambled over to the rotunda. Instinct followed at a distance. I just watched in awe.

  “Go on, little one. Open it,” she said as she stood before the entrance. She may not have been able to see the great doors, but the marks where they’d plowed away the soil, tearing up trees and bushes like so much grass, were impossible to miss.

  Instinct happily obliged, padding up to the center of the gates and pushing another Rift’s worth of magic into them. With nothing in their way, this time they swung open almost silently.

  “Remarkable,” Mother commented softly behind us. She came forward, looking up appreciatively at the arched opening. It was built for a dragon to pass through it tall and proud. Its peak was high enough that even she would never need to stoop, and the double doors were wide enough to leave plenty of room to either side, even with her wings relaxed.

  She entered with the closest thing to reverence I ever expected to see out of her. She stopped at the center, turning slowly and taking in the mural as it curved around the inner wall of the building. When she came to the panel where the black dragon first appeared she stopped.

  “It is him,” she said, and her voice was thick and raspy in a way that I’d never heard before. She approached the panel and looked closer, her head drooping. “It is really him. As beautiful as I remember him. Whatever human created this captured his likeness excellently.”

  Then she moved on to the last panel, the one with Night surrounded by his adoring fans, and she lay down heavily. She just lay there, looking at it. After a few minutes Instinct slowly approached, and only then did Mother say, “Come, little one. Lay down beside your old mother for a while.”

  Then she went back to looking at the painted image of her long-dead mate. Not her first, and not her last, but one that had left an indelible impression on her.

  Instinct did as she’d been asked, laying down close enough that Mother could cover her with her wing. They stayed there, together, as the sun slowly climbed. I would have gotten impatient, but there was something so solemn about Embers that I didn’t even speak to Instinct, who looked at Mother more than the mural.

  Finally, after what must have been close to an hour of silence, Mother heaved a great sigh. She curled herself around us, closed her eyes, and said, so softly that it might have been to herself, “Oh, Night. Such a waste.”

  There were no tears. No great drops of grief to stain the floor beneath her head. But only because Sower of Embers, Reaper of Flames was a dragon, and dragons did not weep.

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