Tintaglia could almost see the fury rise in the old woman. She advanced on the man, heedless that it brought her within range of the dragon. ‘Much good? Yes, much good, if you count keeping the Chalcedeans out of our river! I’m sorry your boat was damaged, Yulden, but don’t throw the blame on me, or mock my children.’

‘It’s the dragon’s fault, not Jani’s!’ A woman’s voice from back in the crowd. ‘Drive the dragon away! Send her off to join the others!’

‘Yes!’

‘You’ll get no meat from us, dragon! Get out of here!’

‘We’ve had enough of your kind here. Be off!’

Tintaglia stared at them incredulously. Had they forgotten all they’d ever known of dragons? That she could, with one acid-laden breath, melt the flesh from their bones?

Then, from back in the crowd, the pole came flying. It was the trunk of a sapling, or a branch stripped of twigs, but it had been thrown at her as if it were a spear. It struck her, a feeble blow, and bounced off her hide. Ordinarily, it would not even have hurt, but any jarring movement hurt now. She snapped her head on her long neck to face her attacker, and that hurt even more. For an instant, she began to rise on her hind legs and spread her wings, to terrify these vermin with her size before spitting a mist of venom that would engulf them all. She resisted that reflex just in time: she must not bare the tender flesh beneath her wings and above all she must not let her attackers see her injury. Instead, she drew her head back and felt the glands in her throat swell in readiness.

‘TINTAGLIA!’

The sound of her name froze her. Not for the first time, she cursed the moment that Reyn Khuprus had so callously gifted the humans gathered in Bingtown with her name. Since then, all humans seemed to know it, and use every opportunity to bind her with it.

It was the old woman, of course, Jani Khuprus, moving in a stumbling run to put herself between the dragon and the mob. Behind her, her shrieking daughter was held back by the others. She halted, swaying, in front of the dragon and threw up her skinny arms as if they could shield something.

‘Tintaglia, by your name, remember the promises between us! You pledged to help us, to protect us from the Chalcedean invaders, and we in turn cared for the serpents that hatched into dragons! You cannot harm us now!’

‘You have attacked me!’ The dragon was outraged that Jani Khuprus dared to rebuke her.

‘You wrecked my boat!’ The man with the boat hook.

‘You’ve destroyed half the dock!’

Tintaglia turned her head slowly, shocked to find how careless she had been. There were other humans behind her, humans who had come out of the damaged boats and from the shattered docks. Many of them carried items that were not weapons, but could be used as such. She still had no doubt that she could kill them all before they did her serious harm, but harm they could do in such tight quarters. The trees that leaned over her would prevent an easy launch, even if she were not injured. Abruptly, she realized that she was in a very bad situation. There were other humans, looking down on her from platforms and walkways, and some were moving down the stairways that wound around the immense trunks of the trees.

‘Dragon!’

She swung her attention back to the old woman. ‘You should leave,’ Jani Khuprus cried out in a low voice. Tintaglia heard fear in it, but also a pleading. Did she fear what would happen if the dragon had to defend herself?

‘You should follow the rest of your kind, and their keepers who are turning into Elderlings. Go to Kelsingra, dragon! That is where you belong. Not here!’

‘Elderlings. In Kelsingra? I have been there. The city is empty.’

‘Perhaps it was, but no longer. The other dragons have gone there, and the rumour is that the keepers who went with them are becoming Elderlings. Elderlings such as you seek.’

Something in the old woman’s voice … no. In her thoughts. Tintaglia focused on her alone. Kelsingra?

Go there! As Malta and Reyn have gone there. Go, before blood is shed! For all our sakes!

The old woman had caught on quickly. She stared silently at the dragon, projecting the warning with all her heart.

‘I am leaving,’ Tintaglia announced. She turned slowly, deliberately back toward the docks. The men in front of her muttered angrily, and gave way only grudgingly.

‘Let her leave!’ Jani’s voice rang out again, and surprisingly, other voices echoed hers.

‘Let the dragon go! Good riddance to her!’

‘Please, let her pass, with no one killed!’

‘Let her be gone, and let us be done with all dragons!’