The rest of the conference passed in Imfamnia sounding out Istach on whether she’d like a trained thrall to help shape her scale and train her claws into a more elegant curve. AuRon quit it gladly.

He returned to Dairuss dispirited, and complained that night to Natasatch that he was considering giving up the Protectorship and returning to his island.

“Well, I like it here,” Natasatch said. “I feel at home, for some reason, with these social dragons. What is there to do on our island? Snooze out the winters, then argue all summer with the wolves and blighters about the number of sheep that may be taken. It’s no life for a dragon.”

“It is life. If this contraption my brother the Tyr has set up fails, it’ll be another fall of Silverhigh. A good many dragons will go down with it. I doubt we’ll ever rise from it again.”

Natasatch nuzzled him behind the griff. “There’s another matter. Think of the offspring. They’re doing so well here. Even Istach, who I thought would remain lurking outside our cave like a hungry dog, has found a position—one above her brothers and sister! They’re doing so well, because we’ve been here to help them along. Now, with Wistala acting as Queen, she can be of further use to them.”

“I’m not sure Wistala took the position with that in mind. She only wants to make sure everyone’s treated fairly.”

“What should we do about NiVom and Imfamnia and their ‘conspiracy’?”

“If the Lavadome breaks into factions, some will support the Tyr, some will support NiVom and Imfamnia. That seems a reasonable assumption, does it not, my love?”

“Yes,” AuRon said.

The air was too still in this cave. If they stayed, he’d have to ask Naf about finding another cave with better air flow.

“We have to make sure we’re on the winning side,” Natasatch said. “I’d put my hoard on my nest mate. He’s a survivor. You can’t even kill him with poison, I’d say.”

“Thank you.”

“But Imfamnia and NiVom are building a network of allies. If she was being honest with you.”

“I’d like to hear NiVom’s opinion, personally. He’s a smart dragon,” AuRon said.

“Imfamnia’s smarter,” Natasatch said. “She doesn’t let you know just how smart she is. She plays the birdbrain, but she doesn’t act like one.”

“So, you think we should side with them?” AuRon asked.

Natasatch paused a moment before answering. “No, my love. We have to be sure we back the victor, correct?”

“Yes. From what I know of Lavadome politics, being on the losing side could be deadly.”

“Then we must support both.”

“Just how do we do that?” AuRon asked.

“Simple. You’ll work with Imfamnia. Do all you can to ensure her faction succeeds. She likes you, I can tell. She’s taken you in on her plans very early.”

AuRon didn’t like the sound of that.

“I think she likes me too much.”

“Well, you’re an interesting dragon. Besides, your accent is irresistible, it’s not Lavadome at all.”

“I often wonder why you feel so at home with that oversized snakepit.”

“I don’t know. Perhaps my family came from there. I don’t know anything about where I was hatched. I was taken away so young.”

“You do look a little like some of those dragons, around the griff and the jaw. You and Nilrasha, your scale lie very similarly. Maybe you are from a Lavadome family.” AuRon wasn’t sure he liked where this chain of thought led.

He continued: “No, if I’m going to support someone, I’ll support the Tyr. He trusted me here, and by doing so stopped a war with a friend of mine. I’ll support him.”

“I suspected you would. Well, Imfamnia and I get along.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to just find a reasonable dragon to take our spot—perhaps one of the offspring—and go back home?”

Natasatch stretched and rolled over on her other side. “The island? I’d rather take my chances here, to be honest. At least there are metals to eat.”

“Metals or no, too many plots and plans on the cooking fire for my taste. I had enough stratagems and deception in my life just getting that collar off your neck.

“Besides, by ensuring that one of us is on the winning side, you’ve guaranteed one of us will lose, too.”

“The victor can afford to be magnanimous.”

“I’ve seen victors who use their victory to engage in bloody slaughter, too,” AuRon said.

“Oh, that’s hominids, they’re always gutting each other to make a point. A dragon may humble an enemy, but he’ll let them live. Look at Imfamnia or that striped orange friend of yours.”

AuRon wondered what DharSii would think of all this. Where was he? He said something about trading some gathered dragon-scale for coin and paying another visit to the Lava-dome. Scale wasn’t worth as much as it once was, with so many dragons above ground these days, but he thought he could get some coin. Well, no use chasing him down.

“I think I’m due for a visit to my brother,” AuRon said.

“What, already?” Natasatch said.

“It’s possible that NiVom and Imfamnia’s plans are well-advanced. Maybe if they learn he’s suspicious of them, they’ll forget whatever it is they’re planning.”

“While you’re doing that, I think I’ll invite Imfamnia over for a visit.”

AuRon only knew one or two ways into the Lavadome, and a windy tunnel out of it. Long flights didn’t fatigue him the way they did other dragons, so he made the trip in two days.

He wondered how much Natasatch would tell Imfamnia. Well, it didn’t matter. Not even NiVom and Imfamnia would be able to put their plans into effect, with the head start he had.

He flew straight to the Imperial Rock and spoke to NoSohoth about getting a private audience with his brother on an urgent and secret matter.

The Copper dismissed his Griffaran Guard to wait outside. “Our Protector of Dairuss never was one to start a fight.”

“I have finished my share,” AuRon said.

“Follow me. It’s late, and I know a place we can talk.”

He led AuRon down a series of ramps and passages going down through the heart of Imperial Rock.

They ended up in a big, sand-floored cavern. AuRon wondered if it was an arena or a theater of some kind.

The acoustics in this cavern were strange. The sand soaked up the sound of their clawfalls and tail-drags. But when they spoke, the words echoed off the empty shelves and rough cavern roof.

The Copper found a broken metal scale-file on the lowest shelf of the arena, sniffed it for a moment, then swallowed it whole.

“The Tyr doesn’t rate better metals for his gold gizzard?”

The Copper let out an acidic belch. “A little iron only makes the rest of the ores more effective.”

“Our father said something about that.”

“Your father, you mean,” the Copper said. “He never sought that title in my case.”

“Well, we’re somewhere where we can spot listeners ten dragonlengths away. What do you have to tell me in private?”

Choosing his words carefully, AuRon relayed his suspicions about the treachery brewing in Ghioz.

“What’s your course, AuRon? Are you trying to divide me from NiVom?”

“I’m telling you what I saw and heard. You’ll have to sort out what it means.”

“You know what this room is?”

“Some sort of theater or debating hall—that’s what I was told as we passed it the first time I came here.”

“I killed the Dragonblade here, in a fair fight.”

AuRon had heard something of it, but he still warmed toward his brother. “You have my thanks. Our world’s a better place for it.”

“If you’re plotting against me or mine, I’ll kill you. Here. Under the gaze of your offspring.”

AuRon’s firebladder pulsed. “I said I’ve told you the truth. I don’t know what it means. I can’t say what sort of dragon NiVom is, except that he’s quite intelligent—maybe the most intelligent creature I’ve ever met. But for all his acuteness, I think his mate’s the more dangerous.”

The Copper’s scale resettled itself. His good eye looked away, into a middle distance.

“What did you come all this way to tell me face-to-face?”

AuRon glanced around the arena. Strange how the habits of a conspirator and an informer were identical. “Your Protectors in Ghioz, Imfamnia and NiVom. I’m sure they’re plotting against you. They’re breeding—creatures. You’ve seen some of them in their attack on Uldam, but I think there are others. Strange bats or gargoyles. I’ve heard them speak of a change, a new Tyr being put in.”

The Copper put a sit to a recent wound in his neck.

“I’m curious about this move of yours, AuRon.”

“Move? You speak as though my actions are part of a strategy. I am not directing forces for a battle. Your ‘Protectors’ in Ghioz are your enemies. It’s not just the greater glory of your Empire or Grand Alliance or whatever it’s called, but they’re plotting something.”