“Gareth is a little bit . . . special,” I said, pouring out more hot chocolate. It was excellent, very hot, just as I liked it, and made with Belgian cocoa.
She murmured something noncommittal.
“I’ve decided after talking with your . . . er . . . what do you call Kaawa?” I asked May.
“Call her?”
“Yes. I mean, you’re not married to Gabriel, are you? Not that I’m judging! Lots of people shack up without getting married. I just wondered what you call his mother.”
She blinked at me twice. “I call her Kaawa.”
“I see.”
She smiled, and I realized again that there was something about her that struck a familiar chord. “Marriage is a human convention. I’ve never been human, so I don’t feel the need to formalize the relationship I have with Gabriel in that way. The bond between a wyvern and a mate is much more binding than a mortal marriage ceremony, Ysolde. There is no such thing as divorce in the dragon world.”
Brom’s eyes grew round as he watched her.
“Dragons never make bad choices so far as their significant others go, then?” I couldn’t help but ask, trying hard to keep the acid tone from my voice.
“I’m sure some do,” she said, glancing at Maata. “I’ve never met any, though. Have you?”
“Yes, although it is rare,” Maata told me. “It is not common, but it can happen that two people are mated who should not be.”
“So what do they do? Live out their lives in quiet misery, trying to make the best of what they have despite the fact that they have no hope, no hope whatsoever of any sort of a satisfying or happy connubial and romantic life?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“What’s connubial?” Brom asked around another mouthful of eggs.
“Married.”
May hid her smile, but Maata openly laughed. “I would like to see the dragon that is content to live in quiet misery. No, if a mated pair is not compatible, they take the only solution.”
I waited for her to continue, but she didn’t. I had to know, though. My curiosity would not be satisfied until I asked. “And what’s that?”
“One of them kills the other,” she said, shrugging slightly. “Death is the only way to break the bond. Of course, usually the one who remains does not survive long, but that is the way of dragons. They mate for life, and when one mate is gone, the other often chooses to end his or her suffering.”
“Cool,” Brom said, looking far too fascinated for my ease of mind. “Do you know of a dragon who’s died? I wonder if I could mummify something that big. Do they die in dragon form or people form? What happens to them when they’re dead? Do you bury them like mortals, or do you burn them up or something else?”
“Enough of the ‘like mortals’ comment, young man,” I told him. “You are a mortal. I don’t care what anyone tells you—you are a perfectly normal little boy, albeit one with a bizarre mummy fascination.”
“Sullivan is all over denial,” he told Maata, who nodded her head in agreement.
“We are going to move on, because if we don’t, someone will find himself confined to his room rather than going to a museum,” I said with a dark look at my child.
“Are you going to kill Gareth?” he asked me, completely ignoring the look.
“What?” I gawked at him.
“Gabriel said you’re married to a dragon named Baltic, but you’re also married to Gareth. That means you have to get rid of one of them, and you don’t like Gareth, so you should get rid of him.” He frowned. “Although I don’t want you to if you’ll do what Maata said, and end your suffering.”
“I assure you that I have no intentions to kill either myself or your father. Shall we move on? Excellent. I really need to see Dr. Kostich today. What time were you thinking of going to the museum?” I asked Maata.
“We can leave right after breakfast, if you like. There’s enough to see there to keep us busy all day.”
“I’d better take my field notebook and camera,” Brom said, starting to rise from his chair.
“Sit,” I ordered. “Finish that food or you won’t go anywhere today.”
He slumped back into his chair, grumbling under his breath about not wanting to waste valuable time.
“Tipene called Dr. Kostich yesterday to tell him you were awake, in case you were worried he didn’t know,” May told me.
“It’s not that. I’m his apprentice. I have no doubt there’s a huge mountain of work that’s been waiting for me.”
“What sort of work does an apprentice do?” May asked.
“Lots and lots of transcribing,” I said, sighing. “We’re expected to copy out vast compendiums of arcanery, most of which are bizarre things that no one in their right mind cares about anymore. There are some useful things to be learned, like how to wield arcane destructive spells, but those come to more advanced apprentices. Ones at my level spend their days perfecting their wart removal spells, and ways to make a person’s ears unstop. Last week—or rather, the last week I remember—I ran across the mention of a really rocking spell to make a person’s eyebrows spontaneously combust.”
“Wow,” May said, an odd expression on her face.
“I know. Underwhelming, right?” I sighed and glanced at my watch. “Someday I’ll get to the good stuff, but until then . . . I should be going now. Brom, I expect you to behave yourself with Maata, and not give her any trouble.”
He made a face as I grabbed my purse, but his eyes lit up when I tucked a few bills into his shirt pocket.
“Don’t forget, the sárkány is at three,” May said as I ruffled his hair.
There was a slight undertone of warning to that, a fact I acknowledged with a nod as I left the dining room.
I’m not quite sure what sort of a reception I was expecting from Dr. Kostich, but I assumed he would express some sort of pleasure that I was once again amongst the cognizant.
“Oh. It’s you,” was the greeting I received, however. He looked over a pair of reading glasses at me, a frown pulling his eyebrows together, his pale blue eyes as cold as an iceberg.
“Good morning, sir. Good morning, Jack.”
“Hi, Tully. Glad to see you’re up and about again. You scared the crap out of us when you just keeled over a month ago.” My fellow apprentice Jack, a young man in his mid-twenties, with a freckled, open face, wild red hair, and a friendly nature that reminded me of a puppy, grinned for a few seconds before some of the chill seeped off of our boss.
As Dr. Kostich’s gimlet eye turned upon him, Jack lowered his gaze back to a medieval grimoire from which he was making notes.
“Thanks. I have no idea why the fugue struck me just then and not in October, as it should have, but I am very sorry for any inconvenience it’s caused you,” I told Kostich.
He tapped a few keys on the laptop before him and pushed his chair back, giving me a thorough once-over. I had to restrain myself from fidgeting under the examination, avoiding his eye, glancing around the living room of the suite he always booked when he was in London. Everything looked the same as when I had left it some five weeks before, everything appeared normal, but something was clearly wrong.
“I have been in contact with the silver wyvern, whom I believe you are currently staying with,” he said finally, gesturing abruptly toward a cream and rose Louis XIV chair. I sat on the edge of it, feeling as if I had been sent to the principal’s office. “He informed me of a number of facts that I have found infinitely distressing.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I hope that perhaps I can explain some of the circumstances and relieve you of that distress,” I said, wishing I didn’t sound so stilted.
“I have little hope that will happen,” Kostich said, steepling his fingers. “The wyvern informed me that you are not, in fact, a simple apprentice as you represented yourself.”
I glanced over at Jack. His head was bent over the grimoire, but he watched me, his gaze serious. “You know, Gabriel is a nice guy and everything, but he and May hav
e some really wild ideas. I don’t hold with them at all,” I said quickly, just in case he thought to wonder about my mental status. Lord knows I was doing enough of that for both of us.
“In fact, the wyvern tells me that you are a dragon, and were once a member of his sept,” Kostich continued just like I hadn’t said a word.
I flinched inwardly at the grim look on his face. I knew from the rants he’d made over the past year that Kostich did not like dragons very much. “Like I said, wild ideas. He’s wrong, of course. Everyone can see I’m human!”
“No,” he said, taking me by surprise. “That you are not. You appear human, yes, but you are not one. I knew that when you applied for apprenticeship.”
“You did?” I had a feeling my eyes were bugging out in surprise. I blinked a few times to try to get the stupefied expression off my face. “Why didn’t you say something to me?”
He shrugged. “It is not uncommon to find those of mixed heritage in the L’au-dela.”
“I’m not . . . mixed heritage.”
“I assumed that you had one human parent, and one immortal, as does your husband.”
I gawked at him. “You’re kidding, right? Gareth? My Gareth? He has an immortal parent?”
“Your husband is of little concern, except when he interrupts me with demands and foolish threats,” he answered, shooting me a look that had me frozen in my chair. “You are aware, are you not, of the Magister’s Code by which we live our lives?”
“Yes, sir,” I said miserably, sure of where he was going.
“You will then be in no surprise to find that due to the violation of statute number one hundred and eighty-seven, you have been removed from the rolls as an apprentice.”
A little zap of electricity ran through me as his words sank in. “You’re kicking me out?” I asked, unable to believe it. “I know you’re pissed about my unexpected absence, but to kick me out because of it? That hardly seems fair!”
“I do not get ‘pissed,’ as you say.” His pale blue eyes looked bored. “That is a useless emotion. You have been stripped of your apprenticeship. Furthermore, as of this moment you are under an interdict prohibiting you from using any of the knowledge you have gained during your time as my aide.”
He sketched a couple of symbols in the air. They glowed white-blue for a moment before dissolving into me. “But, sir—”
“Strictly speaking, an interdict is not necessary, since you have limited powers.” He peered at me in a way that left me shivering with unease. “You haven’t been using your powers lately, have you?”
“No. You know I’m not comfortable doing so without a good deal of preparation.” I squirmed in the chair.
His lips tightened. “I am well aware of that fact. That you wasted my time and resources trying to teach you, a dragon, one who has no ability to handle arcane power, is something I shall not forget for a long time.”
“But I have power,” I protested. “It may not be a lot, and I may not be terribly comfortable with it, but I’ve learned tons of things from my time as your apprentice! I can take off even the most stubborn of warts. Eyebrows live in fear of me! My neighbor had a case of prickly heat, and I had that sucker gone and her toes back to normal in nothing flat!”
His lips thinned even more until they all but disappeared into each other. “You have been my apprentice for seven years, and yet you still struggle with the most elemental of skills. Jack has been with me for six months, and already he has surpassed your skill tenfold!”
I glanced at Jack, wanting to protest that it wasn’t my fault, that magic didn’t come easy to me. But the words rang in my head that dragons could not wield arcane power.
“Now that I know the truth about you, there is little wonder that you failed to progress in your studies as you should have. I don’t know how I could have been so blind, so foolish as to believe your stories that you simply needed more time to learn the ways of the magi, but I assure you that I will not make the same mistake a second time. You are released from your duties, Tully Sullivan.”
Pain lashed me at the invocation of my name. I stood up, not knowing what I could say or do to make him change his mind. “I was making progress,” I said sadly. “I almost have that spell down to clear out a plugged ear.”
“A child of four could deal with the earwax spell better than you after four months’ study at it,” he snapped.
“I’ve tried,” I said simply, my spirits leaden.
“Foolishly, yes. I have not doubted your devotion; it is your ability for which I’ve made allowances, and now that I know the reason for your lack, my path is clear.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, ridiculously wanting to cry. “I never intended any deception or insult to you, and if there was some way I could make it up to you, if there was some epic sort of task I could undertake, or some hugely intricate bit of magic I could perform to show you how serious I am about my career as a mage, I would do so.”
He was silent for a moment, and I was convinced he was going to turn me into a toad, or worse. But to my surprise, he said slowly, “There is, perhaps, a way you could serve me. It will in no way influence my decision to remove you as apprentice, but if you truly wished to be of service to the L’au-dela, then perhaps we can come to an understanding.”
I bit the inside of my lip, wanting to tell him that if I was going to do him a favor, I expected to be reinstated to my position, but I had been acquainted with him long enough to know that he couldn’t be pressured into any act. But perhaps I could sway him with my devotion and dedication.
“What would that be?” I asked.
“There is a dragon that you have no doubt heard of,” he said, his voice deep and persuasive. “He is known as Baltic, and he possesses most alarming skills and abilities, one of which is to enter and leave the beyond at his whim.”
I sat somewhat numb, wondering if the whole world revolved around the ebony-eyed Baltic.
“I wish to know how he has come by the arcane skills he has shown on numerous occasions. His companion, whom we captured the day you collapsed, refuses to talk despite being threatened with banishment to the Akasha. I also wish to know how he obtained Antonia von Endres’ light sword, and remove it from him.”
“Baltic has a light sword?” I asked, confused. “But that’s made up of arcane magic. No one but an arch image could wield it.”
“And yet he does, and quite proficiently, I will say,” he answered, rubbing his arm as if it hurt.
“You want me, an apprentice of little power and skill—”
“You are no longer an apprentice,” he interrupted quickly, his eyebrows making elegant arches above his long nose. “Nor can you wield any power with the interdict upon you.”
“You want me, with no power and skills, completely unable to work any sort of magic, to take a priceless sword away from a dragon mage-warrior?” I shook my head. Even to me it sounded like the sheerest folly. “I wouldn’t have the slightest clue how to do something like that, even assuming I could.”
“Your inability to see all the possibilities is your failing, not mine,” he answered, his attention returning to his laptop.
“But I don’t even know how to find this Baltic—”
“When you have something to report to me, you may contact me. Until then, good day.”
“Perhaps if we were able to talk this over—”
He looked up, power crackling off him. I was at the door before I realized he had compelled me to move. “Good day.”
A few minutes later, I stood outside the hotel, buffeted by happy tourists and visitors, numbly aware of people and traffic passing by me, but unable to sort through my thoughts. They all seemed to whirl around in a horrible jumble that I doubted I could ever unravel.
The silver dragons thought I was mated to Baltic. The dreams I had focused on Baltic. Dr. Kostich wanted me to retrieve something from Baltic. “I’m beginning to hate that name,” I muttered to myself.
The doorman shot me a curious gla
nce. I moved a few feet away, not sure where I was going to go. “Can I help you?” the doorman asked.
“I . . . I have some time to kill. Is there a park nearby?” I asked, falling back on an old standby that never failed to leave me comforted.
“Six blocks to the north, ma’am. Straight up the street.”
I thanked him and walked quickly, needing the calming influence of green, growing things to restore order to my tortured mind. I felt better almost the instant my feet hit the grass, the scent of sun-warmed earth and grass and leaves from the trees that ringed the park fence filling me with a sense of well-being.
There were a great many people out in the park that day, no doubt enjoying the late summer day before the fall gloom set in. Groups of children raced after Frisbees and remote-controlled helicopters, couples lay in languid embraces, harried mothers and fathers herded their respective broods, and great giggling groups of schoolgirls clustered together to fawn over a musical group that was setting up on an entertainment stage in the corner of the park.
I headed in the opposite direction, breathing deeply to fill my soul with the smell and sensations of green life, eventually settling on one of two benches that sat back-to-back next to a boarded-up refreshment stand. No sooner had I slumped onto my claimed bench than two young women who appeared to be in their late teens hurried over and grabbed the one behind me, shooting me brief, curious glances.
I smiled and closed my eyes, turning my face up to the sun, hoping they wouldn’t stay long in such an out-of-the-way place, not when a band was going to be playing elsewhere.
The girls evidently decided I was harmless, because they started chatting in voices that I couldn’t help but overhear.
“I can’t believe that he had the balls, the steel balls, to tell me he’d rather go visit his parents in Malta than go with me to Rome, but he did, and that was it, that was just it as far as I’m concerned. I mean, Rome versus Malta? Rome absolutely wins.”
“Absolutely,” the second girl said. “You are so right to dump him. Besides, that leaves you free for doing a little shopping in Italy, if you know what I mean. Italian men are so lickable, don’t you think?”