A small chance was better than none. They would only recall us to Scirland if they didn’t need us anymore. If they had found a different solution to the problem.
On a breath that did not carry beyond the two of us, Tom said, “Synthesis.”
The artificial production of dragonbone. Not just the substance itself—we’d been able to do that for years—but its structure, the microscopic lattice that gave it its tremendous strength. We were trying to breed dragons for their bones, so we could build caeligers and other devices that would allow our nation to maintain its power in the world, to meet the Yelangese and defeat them. But if our people could make the necessary material in a laboratory, it would be a damned sight easier than what we’d been attempting at Dar al-Tannaneen.
Someone at home had figured it out. We had synthetic dragonbone, and Tom and I were no longer relevant.
Conflicting emotions warred within my heart. Synthesis would obviate the need to slaughter dragons for their bones—perhaps. Scirland would not need to kill them, at least. But we would guard the secret of the process jealously, far better than Tom and I had guarded the notes taken from Gaetano Rossi’s laboratory. Every other nation would still be reliant on natural sources to supply them. If my country launched an aerial armada, others would be forced to reply, by whatever means they could.
And even though I had hoped for that success ever since we discovered preserved dragonbone in Vystrana, I could not help resenting its effect now. Whatever the reason, it was still robbing me of my place here. I doubted the Crown would be announcing its achievement, not any time in the near future—which meant Tom and I would be going home in disgrace, the naturalists who had failed to breed dragons. I would leave behind this place, my work… Suhail.
Unless…
“What are you thinking?” Tom asked warily.
“I am thinking,” I said, choosing my words with care, “that sending us home like this is very foolish.”
Tom cocked his head to one side, frowning. I elaborated. “Not simply the loss of what scholarly advances we might make here—though yes, that as well. But it did not take you long at all to guess why our work was no longer needed. Who is to say another will not make the same leap?”
“The Yelangese.”
“We certainly know they’ve been keeping watch on us. Other nations may guess as well. Sending us home is as good as sending up a banner that proclaims, Scirland has found a solution.”
Tom leaned back against the edge of the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. His energy had subsided, leaving him quiet and grim. “They won’t be able to stop it—not short of serious action, at least, that would amount to a declaration of war. But it would give them time to prepare.”
Our military minds would want to keep this a secret as long as they could, so as to get the advantage over our enemies. I had no particular interest in supporting that aim; wars, to me, were a thing that made my work more difficult (although honesty prompts me to admit that they have on occasion also facilitated it: viz. our presence in Akhia). In this instance, however, our goals might align. “If we were permitted to stay here and carry on our work, it might mislead them for a while longer.”
He stared at me. Then he said, enunciating each word with distinct clarity, “That would make us bait.”
I had not thought of it from that angle. Weighed the benefit of a smokescreen against the cost of maintaining it, yes; considered the associated risk, no. “We’re already bait, Tom. Had we not met with Pensyth this morning, everything would be as it was yesterday: the two of us working to breed dragons, and the Yelangese trying to stop us.”
“There’s a bit of difference between swimming in shark-infested water because you’re trying to retrieve something from the bottom, and staying in just because you’re already there and haven’t been eaten yet.”
“We are still trying to retrieve something from the bottom. All that has changed is whether anybody on shore cares whether we—Oh, hang the metaphor.” I pressed my fingertips to my temples. The removal of poison from my diet had improved my health, but the sun was bright, and I had left my hat behind in Pensyth’s office. A headscarf alone did nothing to shade my eyes. “Look, the Yelangese have been rather less dangerous to us than some of the other things we’ve faced. Poison, at least, may be watched for. Diseases and storms come regardless of caution. Do you want to stay here or not?”
He pressed his lips together, still staring at me. Then he turned and went back to his previous pose, hands braced against the edge of the wall, looking out over the compound. This time I joined him.
It was a steep mountain we had set ourselves to climb, trying to breed some of the largest and most dangerous predators in the world. I had entertained any number of doubts as to whether we would succeed—and still did. But to think only of that obscured the fact that there were splendid views to be had from partway up the slope, and satisfaction to be found in attaining the tops of various ridges, even if they were not the peak itself.
It was, apparently, my turn to wander off down the twisty byways of metaphor. In simple terms, we had done a certain amount of good work at Dar al-Tannaneen, and could still do more. Even if we failed to reach our main goal, that should not be permitted to overshadow everything else we might achieve.
And there were creatures down there in the compound whose lives depended on us. One could certainly argue that the lives of the dragons had not been improved by our interference; but having interfered, I could not simply wash my hands of them.
“Yes,” Tom said quietly. “I want to stay.”
I put one hand over his, pressed until he turned his hand palm-up and gripped mine in return. “Good,” I said. “Now let’s go talk to Pensyth.”
SIXTEEN
We had to choose our words carefully. It seemed quite likely that the colonel had no awareness of the laboratory side of matters; Lord Ferdigan might, but he would not thank us for opening our mouths any wider than necessary. In the end, we persuaded our military overseer to give us time, to continue the project while our suggestion was referred up the chain of command.
But we also knew better than to trust that referral to a third party. “Your title will impress him more,” Tom said.
I shook my head at once. “Were I a man, yes. But he is a military fellow; women are not part of his world, except as distant kin back home that he writes letters to from time to time.” (The exceptions would not be the sort of women he would listen to with any respect.) “You are also a Colloquium Fellow, as I am not. Trust in that, Tom.”
“And in my sex,” he said wryly. “I would accuse you of wanting to dodge politics—I suppose saying that does amount to an accusation—but your points are fair regardless.” He sighed heavily. “Then I suppose I pack my bags for Sarmizi.”
I would have gone with him, but neither of us wanted to leave the House of Dragons unattended. Even though Pensyth had promised to give us time to appeal the decision to the general, it would be all too easy for him to begin arranging the closure, on the assumption that Lord Ferdigan would tell us to follow the orders we had been given. I would stay and keep our work going.
This meant taking in deliveries of eggs, which the Aritat were bringing according to the schedule Tom and I had developed. With the aid of an interpreter, I spent some time discussing improvements to our haulage methods, based on my records of the honeyseeker eggs. I knew making alterations now would bias our data: the more mature eggs would fare better regardless, simply by dint of longer residence in their natural habitat. Unfortunately, I lacked the control data to compare this against (previous eggs having been collected so haphazardly), nor could I afford to sacrifice some of this round simply for comparison. But neither could I wait an entire year to try again with new methods. Healthy eggs, or at least the hope thereof, had to trump proper experiment design.