Hatch (The Dragons Of Laton) (48 page)

Liah sniffed and brushed at her gown as if an animal with mange had rubbed against her. Her voice was icy as she leveled a hard stare at the man. “If you ever do that again, I’ll have your head cut off and hung in the square.”

Diam visibly paled, and he bowed low once more before quickly leaving.

Liah sauntered around the desk and began to rub Tirate’s shoulders. “I don’t how you tolerate that man. I don’t trust him. If you like, I could…remove…him for you.”

Tirate never raised his eyes from the document he was reading. He reached over his shoulder and lifted her hand from his shoulder, then twisted it down, forcing her to crouch beside his chair. His voice was cold as steel. “How many times have I told you never to stand behind me? Diam is my secretary and will remain that way until I have no further use for him. Just as you may remain queen as long as it serves my purpose. Now leave me. I have work to do.”

He released her and she rose to her feet, rubbing her hand. With only a hint of mockery, she curtsied and briskly left the room. He rubbed his eyes in aggravation. She could have tried to kill him easily enough. He knew her knife was hidden just inches from her grasp in the hem of her dress, but it would have been too obvious who did it. It was a risk to keep her nearby, but right now he needed her. With the news of a golden dragon reappearing in the north, some of the Houses began to question if he had indeed linked with that dragon after all. The elaborate hoax was beginning to crumble, and until the new mercenary troops arrived, he couldn’t possibly quell an uprising.

His sudden, unexpected royal wedding to a stunningly beautiful woman quickly redirected the public’s attention perfectly, and the protests had temporarily quieted. If they rose again he’d have to find another distraction. Perhaps he’d announce she was with child. As much as he hated children, eventually he would need an heir.

***

Liah stormed into her bedchambers and slammed the door. The man had no idea how close she came to slitting his throat. Frustrated, she drew one of the knives from behind her belt and threw it at the door where it sank deep into the wood with a solid thunk. The only reason she hadn’t killed him a dozen times already was because she liked the prestige and adoration of being a queen, a much better position than her previous employment. Until now, she had merely been just another assassin for Tirate until the fiasco with that horrid little dragon and that insufferable boy. That was her first and only failure, and the memory of being forced to shovel tons of fly-infested dragon dung was almost more than she could bear. If she ever got the chance to repay that insult, she would be sure to make it painful.

She shivered at the thought. If Tirate’s men hadn’t attacked Erik’s camp so quickly, she probably would have been discovered hiding beneath the dung. As soon as she realized there was a battle looming, she covered herself in the largest pile she could find and waited.

She looked at herself in the mirror and adjusted her hair. She was beautiful and she knew it, but that day in the woods was beyond humiliating. It had been no small feat to convince Tirate’s men to bring her to him, especially covered as she was with filth. The miscreants had thrown her in the river headfirst before they would agree to it. If she’d had any knives, she’d have stabbed every one of them.

She flashed a brilliant smile into the mirror as she thought about the things she could now do as queen. Once Tirate had taken care of that horrid little golden beast, maybe she’d ask for a necklace made from its scales. As for Ammon, the boy was pretty enough to look at, so maybe she’d have him as her personal slave. When she tired of looking at him, she'd send him out to shovel manure for the rest of his life.

She dabbed a little powder to the end of her nose and gazed at her reflection. She had always taken particular care of appearance, but her nose was by far her favorite feature. Powder and paints could disguise many flaws, but a badly shaped nose could never be hidden. Many men had been led to their doom with no more than a wink of her eye, and her looks had been the key to becoming the queen of
Gaul, the most powerful woman in the world! Never again would she touch a shovel, not for the rest of her life!

***

Ammon sat beside El patiently and waited as Boris eased himself into a chair in front of the breakfast Kyle had spread before them. The flames in the huge fireplaces of the royal sitting room crackled and popped, sending tiny sparks up the chimney. The first frost of the year covered the windows, but inside the palace was quite comfortable. Below them in the Hold, the furnaces churned out a steady supply of heat that radiated up into every room, and the numerous fireplaces added extra warmth. Neither Ammon nor El felt any affects of the chill outside, but the cold seemed to effect Boris, and he moved stiffly. Fulgid seemed to particularly enjoy the warmth as he lay stretched out in front of the fire snoring contently.

Boris wasted no time devouring his meal, and when he finished, he leaned back in the chair and patted his stomach. “Between Kyle and Mabel, if I keep eating this well I’ll soon be as big as Ellis.”

Ammon and El exchanged glances and tried to hide their smiles. Since Boris’ return, Mabel had taken it upon herself to feed and care for him. Now that his health had returned, he was quite capable of doing it himself, but she still insisted on doting over him. It seemed everyone but Boris knew her true intentions. He poured himself a steaming cup from a large pot of black liquid and gestured at Fulgid in front of the fireplace.

“Speaking of getting bigger, that dragon of yours still hasn’t grown much since his last shed has he?”

Ammon looked over his shoulder and shook his head. Even stretched out as he was, his body still wasn’t much bigger than a large cat with a tail that was easily as long as the rest of him. “I think his tail has gotten longer but the rest of him seems about the same. How big do you think he’ll get?”

Boris placed his mug on the table and smoothed his thick moustache with his thumb. “Hard to say. Dragons shed a few days after hatch and again about six months later. His first shed was very late, but his second one was pretty early. It shouldn’t happen again until he’s a year old. Most hatchlings his age are the size of ponies and he hasn’t changed much, so it’s possible he may not get much bigger. I’ll be honest with you though, he doesn’t seem to follow any of the typical patterns of dragons, so who knows?” He took a long sip from his mug. “I was told you have enough scales for your armor now?”

Ammon nodded. “Between the last shedding and what was left over from making the blades and El’s ring, I had just enough. A few weeks ago Stalwart took them somewhere to have the armor made, but it’s not done yet. He insisted it be made in the DoTarian style, so I’ll be interested to see what it looks like.”

El patted his hand. “It’s for decoration purposes only! No more arrows for you dear.”

Between Boris’ chuckles Ammon protested. “I’ve been told that as king, I have the right to be first in battle and last to leave.”

El rolled her eyes. “That makes no sense at all. If the king dies, who will direct the rest of the battle?”

Boris held up his hands. “Don’t get me involved in this argument! I’m learning that arguing with a woman is dangerous. Even if you win, you still lose!”

El shook her finger. “That’s right, and the sooner you learn that Ammon, the easier life will be for you!”

Ammon couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s bad enough that you and Fulgid conspire against me, now you want to change an ancient tradition?”

El mockingly ignored him as she turned to Boris. “He still hasn’t learned yet, but I expect he’ll come around soon.”

Boris grinned and shrugged his shoulders. “Mabel has done the same thing with Ellis. All these years he never allowed anyone to go near him but me, and suddenly she’s feeding him and rubbing his nose like a pet! He’s been corrupted I tell you! In the prime of his life too!”

“Perhaps he knows something” El began sweetly. “After all, he’d have to accept her if you two were to get married.”

Boris sat forward so suddenly he nearly dropped his mug. “Married? Me? Uh…ahem…I…. Well, we really should begin our morning discussion now don’t you think, Ammon?”

Ammon hid his laughter with a cough as El softly giggled. “Uh, yes, I suppose we should get on with it. Whenever your ready, Boris.”

When Ammon had been too weak to leave his chambers, Boris, Erik, and Stalwart would take turns having breakfast with him in his sitting room to discuss the issues of the rapidly growing city. Eventually it became a morning ritual of problem solving that he looked forward to. Traditionally DoTarian queens were not involved in any decision making, but he insisted that El participate, and she frequently proved to be quite adept at finding solutions that nobody else had thought of.

Boris ran down the list of issues. “The problem of the leaky roof is ongoing. There simply aren’t enough materials to repair and replace all the cracked tiles over the palace. We’re looking into placing thatch on top until enough tiles can be made, but even that won’t stop the worst leaks.

The good news is there are far fewer incidences of slugs. Apparently they hibernate or something in the winter. The colder it gets, the more infrequent the sightings are. We’ve already got a years supply of calentar ground up and in storage. Before snow falls we’ll make a few more trips to haul out some of the larger crystals and keep them in storage as well.”

El delicately crossed her legs and balanced her teacup carefully on her knee. “Boris, when did you say the adult dragons usually shed?”

He looked at her quizzically, confused at the sudden change of subjects. “Well, adult dragons shed annually in the fall, most after the first frost, give or take a few days. Is there a reason you ask?”

El smiled brightly. “There is your new roof! With roughly fifteen hundred dragons in the hold there should be enough scales to cover the entire palace and some left over for anything else you need!”

Ammon and Boris looked at her for a long moment. Boris softly grunted. “By my dragons teeth, she’s right and what a roof that would be! It’d last forever, or at least until the building rotted out from beneath it!”

El frowned into her cup. “You should also continue to bring out calentar daily. It’s the only known deposit right now, and we don’t have the ability to dig it out quickly if the tunnel collapsed for some reason. A years supply would quickly disappear if there were no more to be had easily. To get it out now while the Kala-Azar hibernate would be safest.”

Boris tapped his finger against his chin and nodded. “Aye, I’ll agree with that. I’ll have the workers keep hauling it out and grinding it up. They wouldn’t have much else to do once the snows came anyway.”

There was a soft knock at the door as Mabel arrived to accompany Boris back to the hold, but Boris insisted he stay a bit longer to watch Ammon’s sword practice with Stalwart. Although his arm had mended nicely, he was still unable to wield his sword yet and begrudgingly forfeited the duty to the DoTarian captain. He grumbled irritably as Stalwart entered the room. “There was a time I’d be back on duty within just a month or so.”

Mabel settled herself in the chair beside Boris and patted his knee. “That was before you got old and feeble dear. Now be quiet and watch the man practice.”

Despite the chuckles of everyone in the room, Boris’ cheeks reddened but no words found their way past his lips.

Ammon tried to concentrate on his movements and force his sluggish muscles to react. The injury and weeks of sickness had robbed him of much of the hard-earned muscle he’d gained, and El had refused to let him practice until she was sure he was completely well. Several times he’d picked up the sword when he thought she wasn’t around, but the woman seemed to have eyes everywhere and chastised him every time.