The adamantine palace Read online

  'I-I…' Kailin stammered. 'I'm sorry, Your Holiness, I spoke out of turn.' Had he spoken at all? He wasn't sure.

  'What did you say, Scales?'

  He was shaking. The queen had a temper. Everyone knew what happened to those who made her angry. 'We call her Snow, Your Holiness.' Kailin screwed up his eyes and waited for the blow to come.

  'Well then, Scales. Snow. How is she?'

  'Still… still perfect, Your Holiness.' He could feel her eyes on him, but he couldn't bring himself to look at her.

  'You see she stays that way. And learn to mind your tongue, Scales. You and your dragon will be the property of Prince Jehal before the next full moon. He will give her whatever name takes his fancy, and he is not known for his forgiving nature.' She laughed. 'If you're unlucky, he'll decide you're a spy.'

  She left him there, quivering.

  3

  The Eyrie-Master

  The Scales was forgotten almost before Shezira had turned her back on him. Two more days and they were due to fly, almost from one end of the realms to the other. Another two weeks and they'd be in King Tyan's palace. Prince Jehal would be there. She would give Jehal her perfect white and her youngest daughter, and in return he would give her lordship of all the realms. Or rather, he wouldn't object to her taking it.

  She smiled. Lordship? Or should it be ladyship? It wouldn't be the first time that the speaker was a queen instead of a king, but it had been long enough. Too long.

  The eyrie was built on an escarpment. Most of it was tunnelled underground and so, from the outside, there wasn't much to look at. Scorched rock and blasted earth and the occasional smouldering mound of dragon dung. Further away, fields full of cattle stretched out as far as the eye could see, interspersed with tiny clusters of farmhouses. And there were the dragons, of course, always a few of them out on the rocks, being groomed or trained or saddled or fed, or simply sunning themselves.

  The only structure built on top of the eyrie was a massive tower, the Outwatch. As she walked towards its gates, they swung open. Soldiers poured out and formed up in ranks to salute her. In their midst was Isentine, the eyrie-master, dressed to the nines in dragonscale and gold. Shezira stopped in front of him and he fell to his knees to kiss her feet. He was getting old. She saw him wince as he struggled to rise again, which annoyed her. She'd have to replace him soon, which was a nuisance. He was competent and devoted, and it would be hard to find his equal. But if he couldn't bow properly…

  'Come on, come on, get up!' she hissed under her breath. All the soldiers were watching.

  'Your Holiness.' Shezira bit her lip when she saw his face. He looked so worn out, almost defeated.

  'Eyrie-Master Isentine.' She forced a smile and put a hand on each of his shoulders. 'Your eyes grow ever sharper with the years. You must have seen me coming from quite some way away.'

  The eyrie-master bowed again, a little dip from the waist, which didn't seem to trouble him. 'I live to serve Your Holiness.'

  'And you do it very well.' She walked on past him. 'We have another hatchling, I hear. One I should see?'

  'I'm afraid not, Your Holiness.' Isentine took up his proper position, walking in step with her just behind her right shoulder. "This is another that refuses its food and wastes away.'

  'Again?' A flash of irritation sounded in Shezira's voice, and that made her even more annoyed. A queen should never sound petulant.

  'I am sorry, Your Holiness.'

  'That's three out of the last four. It's not usually that many.' The eyrie-master could still match her pace easily enough, she noted, so maybe there was some life left in him. For now,

  'It is unusual, Holiness, but the alchemists assure me it is to be expected that these things should happen from time to time. I am promised it will not last.'

  'And do you believe them?' Shezira shook her head. 'Don't answer. One a month, Isentine. That's what I need from you. One good hatchling every month. But that's not really why I came here.' They were past all the soldiers now. They walked through the gates and into the maw of Outwatch in silence.

  'Does Your Holiness desire something?' Isentine asked her. 'We have made all the usual preparations. Baths scented with oils, a feast of delicacies from around the realms, men and women who desire nothing more than to serve your pleasure.' He should have known her better by now, but he was old, and some habits simply wouldn't break.

  'II that's what they desire, they can spend their time teaching my daughters some manners and some respect, and making them understand that above all they are required to be obedient.'

  It took a long time for him to digest that, which made Shezira smile. She wasn't supposed to say such things in public, and there was no proper formal response. They walked across the grand hall, a gloomy cavern of ochre stone that accounted for most of the lower levels of Outwatch.

  'You should do something about this hall. Put some windows in.' The echoes of their footsteps made it seem even emptier, dreary and lonely. 'Maybe I should send my daughters to you for a while, eh?'

  They reached the far side of the hall, where a maze of intertwined staircases snaked towards the upper levels.

  'The study, Your Holiness?' asked Isentine.

  'Yes.' The hall wasn't as empty as Shezira had first thought. Here and there she saw soldiers standing guard, still as statues and tucked into little niches where they wouldn't easily be seen.

  By the time they reached the top of the stairs to Isentine's study, he was wheezing. What was it? A hundred and twenty steps to this balcony? She shook her head and watched him as he opened the door and then stood patiently waiting for her to enter. This wouldn't do.

  She sighed, went in and sat down. 'You're getting positively ancient, Master Isentine.' She watched him as she said it, and saw how much it hurt him. Which was good. He knew what was coming, and that would make it easier for both of them.

  'Three score years and then some.' He looked sad.

  'And then some more. You've been the master here for as long as I can remember. Twenty-five years almost to the day I came here.' She smiled, thinking back to the first time she'd landed at Outwatch. 'Fifteen years old, betrothed to King Antros, and you were the first person I saw. I thought you looked so handsome.'

  The eyrie-master's throat began to bob up and down as though he was trying to say something, but the words were stuck in his throat.

  'I haven't forgotten,' Shezira added. 'I haven't forgotten that it was you, more than anyone, who stood at my side when Antros died so suddenly. If you'd turned against me, I would not be queen now. You always had my gratitude in the years after that. You have it still.'

  'Then…' They both knew what he wanted to say. They both knew she couldn't consent.

  'You may choose who will be the new master of Outwatch and my other eyries, Isentine. I will respect your judgement. But you cannot remain master of my dragons. Speaker Hyram's reign is almost done. I will succeed him. I can hide you away here, but when I rule the Adamantine Palace I cannot have a weak old man who can barely walk at my side. I am sorry.' She almost reached out and took his hand, because in more ways than one he was the oldest friend she had. But she was a queen, and so her hand stayed still and only the whiteness of her knuckles betrayed her.

  Isentine swallowed. He took a deep breath and slowly bowed. 'I understand, Your Holiness. I will find you a man worthy to serve you as I no longer can, and I will take the Dragon's Fall.'

  They sat together in silence for as long as Shezira could bear. Then she went and stood by the window. The study looked out directly over the cliffs, and the drop felt almost infinite.

  'Or…'

  Isentine didn't move. She could see he was holding his breath.

  'My daughters are very fond of their dragons, and very fond of you. Almiri is my heir and has children of her own. Lystra is promised to Prince Jehal and still young enough to be pliable, but laslyn… She spends a great deal of time here, or so I understand.'

  Isentine looked at her. He
smiled and shook his head. 'You may choose whoever you wish, my queen, but Jaslyn is too young to he mistress of any eyrie. She knows her dragons well enough, better than most I might say, but she has no experience…'

  Now at last he began to see.

  'She would need a mentor.' Shezira kept her voice stern. 'You would have to live out your years here, surrounded by these beasts.

  1 could not permit you to take the Dragon's Fall until you were quite sure she was worthy to succeed you.'

  'Yes, Your Holiness. Thank you.'

  Shezira looked away. Isentine was almost weeping with gratitude, and that was something she couldn't bear to see. 'You will not come with us to King Tyan's realm. You are too old. Instead you can stay here and think about everything you must do. It will not be an easy task for you with Jaslyn. She's wilful and proud. If I said she was plain, it would be flattery, yet she turns up her nose at every suitor I put before her. Before long you might wish you'd taken the Dragon's Fall after all.'

  'I will make her a daughter to be proud of,' whispered the eyrie-master.

  I already am, thought Shezira, but that too was something she could never admit. Instead, she began to pace the floor, steadfastly ignoring Isentine's gaze. 'Yes. Now, Prince Jehal. Two more days, Eyrie-Master.'

  'All is prepared, Your Holiness.'

  'Oh, I have no doubt of that, but still… Summon the alchemist. Haros? Huros? Whatever his name is. Let him bore me with the details of his preparations. And in case I fall asleep, please make sure he knows that my knight-marshal has something she wishes to discuss with him. It seems she has acquired a bottle of something that she requires him to understand for her.'

  'At once, Your Holiness.'

  Shezira watched Isentine leave. He had a spring in his step, one she hadn't seen for a long time. She could almost make herself believe that she'd done something good. A little ray of sunshine amid a much darker storm.

  Two more days before I leave to buy Prince Jehal with my own daughter's flesh. Although I, above all, understand that is what we daughters are for.

  4

  The Speaker of the Realms

  'How,' murmured Jehal, 'could anyone not covet it? I simply don't understand.'

  Beside him he felt Zafir's skin, slick with sweat, move against his own. She turned towards him. 'Covet what, my lover?'

  Jehal threw out his arms. They lay together in a carved wooden bed a thousand years old, swathed in silken sheets. In all four walls windows opened out to the sky and the vista of the Adamantine Palace and the City of Dragons below.

  'This! All of this!'

  Zafir pressed herself against him and began to stroke his chest.

  'All of this,' she murmured. She sounded happy, Jehal thought, and well she might. She'd spent most of the night gasping, after all.

  Jehal sighed and sat up. 'Yes, all of this. Wouldn't it be perfect? Ah… I'll never forget the first time my father brought me here. I sat in his saddle with his arms around me as we soared high in the air. The sky was a brilliant blue, the sun burning and bright, the ground far, far beneath us. Dark and green and lush. I could see distant mountains, and then beside them I saw something glitter. 1 pointed and asked what it was. My father said it was a jewel, the greatest jewel I would ever see, and he was right. The Adamantine Palace, glittering in the sun, the lakes sparkling around it, the mountains of the Purple Spur at its back. That sight is burned into my mind, like dragon's breath.' He smiled and shook his head. 'Awestriker. That's what my father's dragon was called. He was an old one even then, and long gone now. Sometimes I wish my father had gone with him. After my deranged little brother murdered our mother and the rest of our siblings, he was never the same. Lingering like this, drooling and deranged, it's not fitting. A king should live forever or else die in a blaze of glory.'

  Zafir draped her arms around his shoulders. 'You have me.'

  'Yes. I have you. More than enough for any man. The most beautiful princess in all the realms.'

  'Queen,' she whispered, nibbling at his ear. 'My mother is dead. Some wicked man threw her off a dragon, remember?'

  Jehal pulled her lips to his. 'That is a dangerous thing to say, my sweet. Your mother had an accident. I'm quite certain of it. And you're still a princess, not a queen. Not until Speaker Hyram says otherwise.'

  'Will it be long?'

  'I would think an hour, maybe two, before he calls you.'

  Zafir snorted. 'Why does it take him so long?'

  'Have you seen how he shakes? He's an old man, and twilight is coming fast upon him.'

  'He's so dreary. He makes time drag.'

  Jehal laid her gently on her back. He gazed into her eyes, so dark and wide, and rested his hand on the curve of her belly. A faint breeze from the windows brushed his skin. 'A clever trick.' He grinned. 'But I can make it fly.'

  Zafir giggled. 'When I'm a queen, and you're still only a prince, does that mean you have to do as I say?'

  'I will be yours to command.'

  'Then I know exactly what my first demand as queen will be.'

  'And what is that, my love?'

  'As soon as I'm queen, I shall summon you back here at once.' She cupped his face in her hands and pushed him slowly down on her. 'More!' she sighed. 'That'll be what I want from you. More…'

  Later, Jehal watched Zafir dress herself and leave. After she was gone, he stood naked at the window, waiting, wondering if anyone was watching him. The Tower of Air was the tallest and grandest of the palace towers, and Speaker Hyram had set it aside for Zafir as soon as he'd known her purpose in coming to the palace. The floors below were full of servants, a few of them Zafir's but most of them the speaker's. It wouldn't do for Hyram to know whom Zafir had taken to her bed, and yet he stood at the window anyway, daring fate to expose him.

  Once he thought Zafir had been gone for long enough, he slipped on a plain tunic and a pair of slightly soiled trousers, and walked out carrying the chamber pot. In the confusion of unfamiliar faces, no one spared him a second glance.

  In contrast to the Tower of Air, Jehal's own lodgings were somewhat more modest, almost the meanest that the palace had to offer. Hyram had probably wanted him banished to a leaky hut of mud and straw somewhere outside the city walls, Jehal thought. That would be too overt an insult, but the slight was not lost on him, and he made up for it by being late to Zafir's coronation, loudly bursting into the Glass Cathedral when Hyram was halfway through his tedious speech about dignity and service and the duties of kingship. Kingship, not queenship. Jehal made a mental note to mention that to Zafir once he had her naked again.

  Hyram droned on and Jehal picked his nails. The cathedral felt immense and empty. A gaggle of dragon-priests hovered and twittered in the shadows at the back. A few lords and ladies of Hyram's household sat politely, but the only other person who mattered was the potion-maker, dutifully recording the event: Bellepheros, grand master alchemist and First Lord of the Order of the Scales. Jehal watched him and yawned. They could have done all this in ten minutes in Hyram's study with a bottle of fine wine. Oh, but then it wouldn't have been the same. Perhaps flirting with death from both boredom and hypothermia at once somehow gave the event gravitas. He should have brought a cloak, he decided. A thick, warm cloak. And a pillow. As it was, the amusement of watching Hyram shake and stutter his way through his speech would just have to do to keep him awake.

  Eventually Hyram was done. Jehal slipped out and watched, waiting for Zafir, already thinking about how he would fulfil her first queenly command. But it was Speaker Hyram who came out first, and walked purposefully towards Jehal.

  'G-G-Good of you t-to eventually attend,' he stuttered.

  Every part of him was trembling. Jehal gave him the slightest of bows.

  'I'm quite aware that Queen Zafir could not be crowned without at least someone else of royal blood to bear witness, otherwise 1 would not be here at all. Are you cold, Your Highness? There's certainly a chill to the air today. I could get a cloak for you, if you lik
e.'

  Hyram spat. 'D-D-Don't play the fool with me, Prince J-Jehal.'

  Jehal smiled and touched his forehead. 'Of course, Your Highness. I forgot. Your sickness. It seems to be getting worse. It will be a terrible loss to the realms. All that wisdom. Who among the dragon-kings could possibly take your place?'

  'And h-how is your father, Jehal?' Hyram looked like a broken old man with his constant quivering, but there was still fire in his eyes. Jehal bit his lip. Careful, careful. He's not a fool. Not yet.

  He tried to look sad. 'His mind, I think, is still as sharp as ever. It is hard to know. Most of the time he's rigid with the paralysis. When the shaking comes and he can actually open his mouth, none of us can understand what he's trying to say. It's a wonder we're still able to feed him. The sickness-'

  'Sickness?' Hyram snorted. 'I think you will f-find it is almost taken for granted that you're p-poisoning him.'

  Jehal clenched his teeth. 'Then I must be poisoning you as well, Your Highness, for your symptoms are the same as his were in the early days. Yes, it's hard to remember a time when he could still talk and feed himself and fuck women and do everything a dragon-prince's father should be able to do, but I would say your symptoms are exactly the same.' He spat and turned to walk away. 'It's as well your time will soon be done. How pitiful it would be to have a speaker who can't actually speak. And how's your memory, by the way? Are you starting to forget things yet?'

  'Jehal.'

  Jehal stopped but didn't turn back. 'Your Highness?'

  'Queen Aliphera. They say she f-fell from her dragon.'

  'So 1 heard.' He turned now, so he could watch Hyram's face.

  'I knew Aliphera. She 1-loved the hunt. She rode her d-dragons as well as any man. This notion – it's p-preposterous.'

  Jehal shrugged. 'Yes it is, isn't it. But she'd chosen to fly away from her escorts. No one saw what happened, or no one will admit to it.' He laughed. 'You could always ask the dragon.'

  'I'm asking you.'

  'What are you asking me, Your Highness?'