On the morning of the next day we had two messages. Or, rather, I had a message and Herald had one, addressed to her personally. In the first, the Council requested my presence one hour after midday for a special closed session, where they wished to discuss recent developments. That was as long and specific as the message got. No mention of their arrest and following release of my family. No mention of my threats to let my mother lay waste to the city. Just a politely worded summons.

  The message to Herald urged her, for reasons the writer felt best not to put on paper, to do what she could to convince me to go. It was signed, Your Servant, S. No points for guessing who that was.

  I decided to go. Not that I didn’t have anything better to do — I was making some decent progress on the Old Mallinean writing and some basic vocabulary, and Herald had a new book or three. But I’d been slowly making my mind up that the Council needed new management, and if nothing else this should help me decide who to target first. Besides, no matter what grudges I might still bear against Soandel, his recommendation carried a lot of weight.

  I made an open invitation for anyone who wanted to come along. The message hadn’t said anything about me bringing anyone with me, so I decided that meant it was up to me. Not that they could have stopped me; if I wanted company, I’d have company.

  Herald and Mak both expressed mild confusion at the idea that they would even need to be asked. Of course they were coming along. Nobody else was eager to take me up on my offer, though, and I couldn’t blame them. It wasn’t like they could add much, and standing before the eight most powerful humans in the city — at least politically — must have been uncomfortable when that city was a big part of your identity. Hell, even I was feeling a little itchy about it, no matter how angry I was with them. I’d prefer to get along with them if at all possible, and I hadn’t had the opportunity to ensure that yet.

  When the time came, Herald and Mak again dressed in their best and rode to the Palace in a palanquin. We’d talked about having them appear in their matching sets of black scale armor and having me drop them off before the Palace steps, but rejected it as just a tad too aggressive. Instead they faced the Council calm and elegant, the picture of magnanimity and forgiveness.

  In the Council chamber, there were only the three of us, the eight members of the Council on their high platform, and whatever guards they had hidden and ready to strike at a moment’s notice. Their attitudes were about what I’d expected. My three supporters — the lady justice Sempralia, the lord commander Barvon, and the lord speaker Berkia — were cautiously neutral. Understandable, after what the Council had done and my subsequent threats. Soandel was self aware enough not to stare enough at Herald to be creepy, and instead looked at the three of us amiably, as befitting someone who supposedly owed me his life.

  The newest member, the lord mercantile Parvion, bore a definite resemblance to his late son, Tarkarran. Fortunately, he didn’t look any more hostile than Berkia did. That might be because he genuinely hadn’t made his mind up about me yet, because he was good at hiding his thoughts, or because Onur, his head of security and my loyal minion, had been whispering in his ear. Neither, to my surprise, did the lady admiral Yakamo. She instead looked at me much as General Sarvalian had the first time I met him: like I was a novel piece of equipment that might potentially be extremely useful.

  And then there were the final two. The lord justice Alster frowned, but at least he looked at us with something resembling polite attention. And the lord hierophant Nahasia looked like he was sucking on a lemon, eyes fixed on what I assumed must be some text or other on his low desk.

  I didn’t mind that at all. I didn’t care what he thought of us. He looked like he didn’t expect this meeting to go the way he wanted it to, and that was good enough for me.

  “Lady Draka,” Berkia opened, “thank you for coming on such short notice. Lady Drakonum, young Lady Herald, welcome. Lady Draka, shall we assume that you have no secrets from either of these two ladies?”

  “That’s right, Lord Speaker,” I replied. “Anything you want to say to me, you can say in front of them.”

  “Very good. As long as that’s clear. I suppose you wish to know why we’ve asked you to come?”

  “I have a couple of ideas. I don’t suppose you want to pay me for keeping my mother away from the city, so my favorite right now is that you want to formally apologize for violating our agreement.”

  “That’s partially true,” Berkia said, with no small amount of embarrassment. “On behalf of the Council and the city of Karakan, I do wish to express my regret for what happened. But that is not why we asked you here so suddenly.”

  Express my regret for what happened. Not exactly a, “Sorry for arresting your family when we’d explicitly promised to bring any legal complaints to you, first.” I’d have to insist on that once I knew what was going on. “Why am I here, then?” I asked. “I honestly can’t imagine much I’d like to discuss with you unless it involves gold or a proper apology.”

  Berkia sighed. “Lady Draka, this morning an envoy arrived from Tekeretek. They have officially declared war on Karakan.”

  “Sure. They’re already involved, so what difference does that make, and why should I care?”

  “The difference is that now they are fully committed, not merely raiding shipping and providing some small aid to Happar. And your interest lies in the fact that they have cited you, personally, as their casus belli.”

  “Their what?” I asked Mak and Herald quietly in English.

  “Their excuse to declare war,” Mak replied. Her voice was tight, and I could feel the anger rolling off her at the revelation. Not smell it; literally feel it, the same way I could feel where she was.

  “Oh,” I said. Yeah. That was a good reason for me to be interested. But I didn’t need to let on immediately. “Again, why should that bother me?” I asked the speaker. “Like I said, they were already involved. Whatever excuse they use is just that: an excuse.”

  The lord commander raised his hand, and his mouth moved. Berkia nodded silently and did something, and there was a shimmer in the air around Barvon.

  “Thank you, Lord Speaker,” the lord commander said. “Lady Draka, the reason you should care is simple: it puts a target on you and anyone around you. Tekeretek didn’t just send a message to us; they’re having their declaration, that their goal is to ‘liberate the city of Karakan from the dragon which has subjugated its leaders,’ disseminated amongst the people. We’ve been trying to slow the spread, but slow it is all we can do. By tomorrow, anyone who can read, or who knows someone who can, will have heard it. Quite simply, we can’t rule out anything from random acts of violence to mobs attacking you and yours. That’s not even going into the fact that Tekeretek has placed a sizable bounty on you, and there are likely to be plenty of adventurers trying to collect. And let me be clear, Lady Draka: nobody wants to see what might happen if someone manages to harm you.”

  I growled, long and low. I couldn’t help it. God. Dammit! Gods and Mercies damn it, and Sorrows take it all! I’d been doing my best not to involve Mother in this war. Then Tavia and Ramban found that inscription, and now Tekeretek just had to go and make it personal!

  The implication that the guard either couldn’t or wouldn’t defend us didn’t help at all.

  Between my own and Instinct’s anger, and Conscience’s indignant surprise, my mind went around and around. I imagined a mob with torches and pitchforks trying to storm the inn and the way that would inevitably play out. It wasn’t until Herald patted my shoulder that I realized that the Council’s guards had come out, and that I’d been growling without saying anything for far longer than any human would be comfortable with.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “You should be worried about what might happen if someone hurts one of my people,” I said. I forced the growl out of my voice; expressing anger had a way of making it worse, and I was feeling too much of that to risk letting it feed itself. “I’ll heal.”

  The lord commander chuckled grimly. “With all respect, Lady Draka, I’m far less concerned about your wellbeing, or you losing it while defending your companions, than I am about your mother burning down half the city in retaliation for some real or perceived slight. Because that is a real possibility, isn’t it? Unless you’ve overstated the risk she poses?”

  Shit. Shit, shit, shit. “I didn’t,” I said, tersely. I was starting to feel some worry alongside the anger. My humans liked this city, and if anything, I’d understated what I thought Mother would do because I didn’t want the Council to panic. Her own words had been along the lines of, “remove their ability to retaliate for generations.” Again, I forced myself to remain calm as I said, “So, do you have a suggestion, or did you just want to ruin my day?”

  This time it was Sempralia who asked for and received the word.

  “First of all, Lady Draka, Ladies Drakonum, since my colleagues seem to be unwilling to do it, I will apologize, profusely, for the way you’ve been treated these past few weeks. I can only thank the Mercies that some of my colleagues have seen reason and—”

  Sempralia suddenly turned to her right and snapped, “Oh, shut the hell up, Nahasia!” At a gesture from Berkia, there was a golden shimmer around the lord hierophant, and Sempralia continued speaking to us. “As I was saying, I wish to apologize on behalf of myself and the entire Council. And my colleagues can feel free to call for a vote to rescind that apology if they wish, but somehow I doubt they will.”

  She remained silent for just long enough to prove her point. “Now, we do have a suggestion. It comes in two parts, the bitter and the sweet. And we’ve already voted on and passed this, so you needn’t worry about any surprises. Quite simply, we would like you to leave the city.”

  I bristled at that, and Sempralia hurried to continue. “Temporarily! Nor would you be banned from visiting. We simply request that you do not spend any length of time at an easily predictable location within the city, for as long as this war continues.”

  “You want me to leave my home, because you can’t guarantee my safety or that of my family,” I summarized for them. My tone hopefully made it abundantly clear just how I felt about their suggestion.

  “Essentially, yes,” Sempralia said, and she didn’t look much happier about it than I felt. “Let me be clear: we do not expect any violence. We hope that you have enough goodwill among the people to prevent that. But if the war does not turn in our favor soon, that might change, and we simply cannot afford any kind of reaction from your mother. So, yes, we’re asking you to leave temporarily. And as a token of our appreciation, we would pay you, in advance, the entire sum that you were promised once Sower of Embers, Reaper of Flame was no longer a threat to the city. The full four pounds of gold. It only seems appropriate.”

  Now, that… that made me pause. That bought them a lot of leeway and goodwill. I didn’t like the idea of being made to leave the city, but it was only temporary, wasn’t it? There was a lot to see and do outside of the city: there was Malyon, there was the entire western half of the island, and there was Mother, who would undoubtedly be pleased to spend some more time with me. And four pounds of gold was… well, it was four pounds of gold! There was no part of me that didn’t see that as a fair enough trade for me making myself scarce for a few weeks even if it was payment in advance for something we’d already agreed upon. Hell, Instinct was happily muttering about tribute!

  “I’ll need to think about it,” I said. I kept my voice steady, but I was such a mix of avarice and indignant anger that it was a near thing. “What about my family, their employees, and their property? Will you protect them?”

  The word went back to Barvon. “A full squad of guards will remain near Her Grace’s Favor at all times, just as they have the last few weeks,” he said. “We hope that, if you’re not around, that will be enough to cool down any hotheads.”

  The lord mercantile raised his hand to speak, and when the word went to him he surprised me by saying, “I have also offered some of my House guards, if you’ll have them. They’d be organised by my own head of security, a man I trust with my own life. And I believe that the lord exchequer wished to make a similar offer, correct?”

  Soandel didn’t ask for the word, but he gave an exaggerated nod.

  Of course Soandel would want Herald safe. Hell, he’d probably leave himself totally unprotected if that was what it took. Parvion’s motives were less obvious. I expected that Onur would have talked me up to his employer, but it was hard to know what effect that might have had. For all I knew, this was just Parvion doing what he thought best, entirely independent of my faithful servant. And I wanted to appreciate it, I really did; it was just hard to do so when both men’s offers were made so I’d be comfortable with leaving the city.

  “You’re going,” Mak stated as my mind reluctantly settled, using English to keep the words absolutely private.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “I am.”

  “All right. In that case, take us with you. All of us. Please? You know as well as I do that everyone knows we’re a family. It’s not just ‘the three Tekereteki’ anymore, it’s ‘the three Tekereteki and the dragon.’ And if we’re officially at war with Tekeretek…” She sighed. “If you won’t be around, it might be best for us to get out of the city for a while, too.”

  Herald’s English was coming along decently, but she had the look of someone who was only very barely following the conversation. Despite that she’d understood all she needed. “We go with you,” she said with finality. And that was my mind made up.

  “Fine,” I told the Council. “I’ll take my people on a little vacation. But I want guarantees for the inn and the people working there, that your guards will remain in place whether the House Drakonum are in residence or not. And I’ll be coming to the city regularly. I want my liaison available when I do.”

  “I’m sure that can easily be arranged,” Berkia said. “Lord Commander?”

  “It would probably be best if she were not at the inn, so that Lady Draka doesn’t need to go there,” Barvon said thoughtfully. “But the Citadel, perhaps? Defensible and with plenty of room to land? I could leave her in command of the guards normally stationed there.”

  “Then that is settled,” Berkia said. “Lady Draka, you will find your liaison present and available at the Citadel, whenever you feel the need to contact us.”

  I was surprised not to see Lord Hierophant Grandpa explode at the mention of his granddaughter, but then Herald whispered, “He does not know, does he?” and it clicked. He didn’t know. The lord hierophant had no idea that his granddaughter had been assigned as the Council’s primary point of contact with the dragon he despised so much.

  Oh, I’d love to see his reaction when he found out. I was sorely tempted to bring it up right then and there, just so I wouldn’t miss it. But he had somehow managed to not provoke me to within an inch of murder for this entire meeting, and as a responsible adult I felt I should help him keep it that way.

  Of course, I doubted the lord speaker would have given him the word just so he could rant at me in any case, but still.

  With great restraint I said, “All right, we have a deal. I won’t ask for it in writing, since our last one wasn’t worth the parchment you put it on. Bring me the gold, and I’ll be out of the city before nightfall; though I’ll be back to check on my people until they get their stuff together to follow me. Is there anything else?”

  Berkia gave the word to the lady admiral Yakamo, who said, “Lady Draka, would you be willing to speak with me after this?”

  That was another surprise in a line of surprises that day. I thought about it for a moment. There was practically no room for foul play, and if she wanted to insult me she could have done so right now. There was really no reason for her to ask me to meet with her unless she wanted something that the rest of the Council had no business interfering in. I still looked to Mak for her opinion, trusting in her to read the lady admiral far better than I ever could.

  Mak met my eyes and nodded.

  “All right,” I told the lady admiral. “Where?”

  “I’d invite you to my office, but I doubt you’d fit through the door,” she said. With an entirely straight face, too. “My home has a private walled garden. Would you follow me there?”

  “I can do that,” I told her. If anything, that made me more confident that she didn’t mean to try anything stupid. If she wanted to do that, showing me her home first didn’t seem like a clever move. Although, she had been one of the councillors that tried to withhold payment after I first made contact with my mother, so her having bouts of unexpected idiocy wasn’t impossible. “Anyone else,” I asked, giving them plenty of time to speak up. “No? Then I’m sure you’ll forgive me if I ask for payment up front. Bring me my gold, and let’s be done here.”

  and get 8 chapters early. You also get all ninety-plus finished chapters of my other story, , and anything else I’m trying out.

  Join us if you want to chat with other readers, or just hang out!