Love in the Time of Dragons (10 page)

“Kostya?” I sat frozen for a second as a face rose in my mind’s eye.

“Yes.” Both May and Maata watched me. “Do you know him?”

I blinked away the image, saying slowly, “He was in a dream I had.”

“Kaawa mentioned you were dreaming of your past. It must be very confusing to you to see yourself but not be able to relate to it.”

“Yes,” I answered, falling silent as a young woman bustled into the room with a pot of hot chocolate for me. I thanked her, breathing deeply of the lovely chocolatey smell.

“The
sárkány
is called for three this afternoon,” May continued, sipping her coffee.

“I’m sure we can stay out of your way while you have your meeting.”

“That’s actually not what I meant,” May said with a little smile. “The
sárkány
has been called so the wyverns can be introduced to you.”

I sighed. “I’m getting very tired of telling people I’m not a dragon.”

“I know. But I do think it would be good for you to meet them. If nothing else, they will be able to see for themselves that you’re human.”

“There is that. . . .” I chewed my lip for a moment. “All right. I will come to your meeting.”

“Excellent!” May said, looking pleased. “Brom would probably find it pretty dull stuff, so Maata volunteered to take him to the British Museum to see the mummies.”

I assessed Maata. She looked sturdy enough to take on a semitruck, and since she was one of Gabriel’s elite guard, I assumed she was beyond trustworthy. “That’s very kind of you, but I wouldn’t want to impose,” I told her.

She waved away the objection with a fork loaded with herbed eggs. “It’s no imposition at all. I happen to like mummies, and am very interested in Brom’s experiments with mummifying animals. Before I knew I was to be part of Gabriel’s guard, I thought I might be a veterinarian.”

“That’s what Sullivan wants me to do,” Brom said around another mouthful of food.

I frowned at him, and he made a huge effort to swallow.

“You are not a python,” I told him. “Chew before you swallow.”

“This is none of my business, but why do you call your mother Sullivan?” May asked.

Brom shrugged. “It’s what Gareth calls her.”

May’s gaze transferred to me. “Your husband calls you by your last name?”

“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 have 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.”