It is of the utmost importance. You and your fellows must set aside all else to attend to it, and until it is completed, you must think of nothing else.”

He stared up at her incredulously. Other humans drifted in from the rubble. They did not come too close but stood where they could hear her speak to Reyn without attracting undue attention to themselves. They regarded her with wide eyes, as ready to flee as to cheer her. Champion or foe, they wondered. She let them wonder, concentrating her will on Reyn. But he defied her. “Now you imagine a significance to yourself that does not exist,” he told her coldly. “I have no interest in performing any task for you, dragon.”

His words did not surprise her. She shifted back onto her hindquarters, towering over him. She opened out her wings, to emphasize further her size. “You have no interest in living, then, Reyn Khuprus,” she informed him.

He should have quailed before her. He did not. He laughed. “There you are right, worm Tintaglia. I have no interest in living, and that is your doing already. When you allowed Malta to go to her death, you killed any regard I ever held for you. And with Malta died my interest in living. So do your worst to me, dragon. But I shall never again bend my neck to your yoke. I regret that I attempted to free you. Better you had perished in the dark before you drew my love to her death.”

His words shocked her. It was not just that he was insufferably rude to her; he truly had lost all awe of her. This pathetic little two-legs, creature of a few breaths, was willing to die this very instant, because-she turned her head and regarded him closely. Ah! Because he believed she had allowed his mate to die. Malta.

“Malta is not dead,” she exclaimed in disgust. “You waste your emotion and grandiose words on something you have imagined. Set aside such foolishness, Reyn Khuprus. The task you must perform is vastly more important than one human’s mating. I honor you with an undertaking that may well save the whole of my race.”

THE DRAGON LIED. HIS CONTEMPT KNEW NO BOUNDS. HE HIMSELF HAD BEEN up and down the river in the Kendry, and found not a trace of his beloved. Malta was dead, and this dragon would lie to bend him to her will. He gazed past her disdainfully. Let her strike him where he stood. He would not give her another word. He lifted his chin, set his jaw and waited to die.

Even so, what he saw now widened his eyes. As he stared past Tintaglia, he glimpsed furtive shadows stalking through the ruins toward her. They moved, they paused, they moved, and each time they got closer to the dragon. Their leather armor and tails of hair marked them as Chalcedeans. They had rallied, despite the shattered ships in the harbor, despite their many dead, and now, swords and pikes in hand, battle-axes at the ready, they were converging on the dragon. A grim smile twisted Reyn’s lips. This turn of events suited him well. Let his enemies battle one another. When they were finished, he would take on any survivors. He watched them come and said nothing, but wished them well.

But Grag Tenira sprang forward, crying, “Dragon, ‘ware your back! To me, Bingtown, to me!” And then the fool charged the Chalcedeans, leading no more than a bloodied handful of his householders in an attack to defend the dragon.

Swift as a striking serpent, the dragon turned to confront her attackers. She bellowed her fury and beat her great wings, heedless that she sent several of her defenders rolling. She sprang toward the Chalcedeans, her jaws gaping wide. She breathed on them. No more than that could Reyn see, and yet the results were horrifying. The hardened warriors recoiled from her, shrieking like children. In an instant, every face ran blood. A moment later, clothing and leather armor fell in tatters from their red-streaming bodies. Some tried to run, but got no more than a few steps before they stumbled. Some of the bodies fell in pieces as they collapsed. Those farthest away from the dragon managed a staggering retreat before they collapsed screaming on the ground. Even the screams did not last long. The silence that followed their fading gurgles was deafening. Grag and his men halted where they stood, fearing to approach the bloody bodies.

Reyn felt his guts heave. The Chalcedeans were enemies, lower than dogs and deserving of no mercy. But to see any creature die as those men had died was wrenching. Even now, the bodies continued to degrade, losing shape as they deliquesced. A head rolled free of its spine, settling on its side as flesh flowed from the collapsing skull. Tintaglia swiveled her great head back to stare at him. Her eyes spun; was she amused at his horror? An instant ago, he had told her that he no longer valued his life. That had not changed, but he also knew that any other death was preferable to the one he had just witnessed. He braced himself, determined to die silently.