I muttered something rude under my breath about Jim’s big mouth, hurrying over to Brom. “Sweetheart, nothing is going to happen. It’s just a meeting.” “Oops,” Jim said, looking contrite. “Uh… yeah, B-man. I didn’t mean that Kostya was going to hurt Baltic or anything. Besides, if he tried, your mom would turn him into fruit.” “That’s right,” I said, giving Brom a quick hug. “No one is going to get hurt.” He continued to look worried. “Can I talk to Baltic for a minute? I mean Dad?” “All right,” I said slowly, wondering if Jim had been saying anything to him about the fact that the weyr wanted Baltic executed. I glanced over at the man in question, who was standing with his arms crossed, watching everyone with grim suspicion. At my nod toward Brom, he strode over. “Brom wishes to speak with you.” He raised his eyebrows and looked expectantly at Brom, who squirmed slightly and said apologetically, “Can I talk to him alone, Sullivan?” “Er… certainly.” I moved off to check that the sorbet was still packed tightly in ice and not melting under the warm summer sun, before standing behind my chair.
“Oooh! Is that pesto?” Cyrene made happy little noises. “This is so good, Ysolde. You have to cater all the sárkánies!” “Thank you, but I think I’ll pass on that offer.” After a few minutes, Baltic returned, his expression unchanged. I watched Jim and Brom return to the house before turning to him. “What was that all about?” “He was worried about you.”
“About me? Hell! Jim must have told him about the execution order.” “No. He was worried that if the weyr did something to me, you would be left helpless. I told him that he had nothing to worry about.” “Because I’m not weak or feeble or without the ability to take care of myself,” I said, nodding my approval of the way he dealt with Brom’s concern.
“Because the weyr has no control over me,” he corrected.
A horrible feeling came to life in my gut. Before I could warn him of it, the wyverns marched over to the table, Kostya taking up a spot at the head. “The wyverns are all present. The sárkány can commence.” “Would you pass the crème fraiche cherry apricot scones?” Aisling asked May, who sat diagonally across the table from her.
I moved to stand next to Baltic, slipping my hand in his to both offer and receive comfort. His fingers curled around mine, making the fire in me stir just a little.
“This sárkány is called to order to address the issue of the deaths of the sixty-eight blue dragons in France.” “This olive tapenade is fabulous,” May said, moaning with delight as she popped a tapenade pinwheel into her mouth. “Almost orgasmic with the touch of cognac.” “Present are the wyverns of all five septs, with the exception of Chuan Ren, who has sent her son Jian to act in her stead.” Jian acknowledged the comment, taking a bite of a pesto, basil, and tomato freschetta.
“Who has the arancini?” Aisling asked, looking around.
“Lemon thyme, or mozzarella and basil?” Cyrene asked, holding up two plates.
“Oooh. Lemon thyme, please. Sweetie, would you like more arancini?” “This is like a bizarre love child of Martha Stewart and the Nuremburg trials,” I whispered to Baltic, noting that a couple of glasses were empty. I slid my hand from his and fetched a covered pitcher.
“Baltic, former wyvern of the black dragons, you have been charged by the weyr with the deaths two months ago. How do you plead?” “I do not plead anything,” he said loudly, his voice once again normal due to the ice pack I’d made him hold on his nose. “I do not need to answer the charges. They are ridiculous, and without proof.” “More iced tea, anyone?” I asked, holding up the pitcher. No one said anything, although Kostya looked like he was about to explode. “No? Champagne, then?” “Christos!” Kostya swore, slamming his hands down on the table as everyone held up their glasses for a refill. “This is a sárkány, not a brunch! Can we get on with the meeting?” “There’s no need to be quite so testy,” I said as I poured champagne, making sure to splash his over the side. “I don’t see why we can’t do this in a civilized manner.” “Civilized coming from a dragon… that’s certainly an oxymoron,” a voice said behind me.
“I thought you were going to get rid of him?” Baltic asked as Dr. Kostich strolled up.
Kostya sank into his chair, banging his head gently on the table a couple of times.
I narrowed my eyes at my former employer. “I did. I called him a taxi and saw him get into it.” “I decided it would be wiser for me to remain here, where I can keep an eye on you and the hefty wyvern until the watch comes to detain you both,” he said, looking over the buffet table. “Does that herbed goat cheese have garlic in it? I’m allergic to garlic.” “I give up,” Kostya told Cyrene. “I can’t fight herbed goat cheese and champagne.” “It’s very good herbed goat cheese,” she said, offering him a bite.
“Mate!” Baltic said, his hands on his hips, clearly expecting me to do something.
“What do you want me to do?” I asked. “He’s an archimage!” “A fact neither of you seems to give its due respect,” Dr. Kostich said, somewhat garbled since he’d just stuffed a mini cherry scone into his mouth.
“He’s placed an interdict on me. You’ve seen how it makes my magic go awry — I couldn’t make him vanish, even if I had that sort of power.” “You never were much of an apprentice, although I will admit you tried,” he said, taking a loaded plate to a free chair at the table.
“Not to mention the fact that he’s the head of the L’au-dela,” I finished.
“Is he supposed to sit with us? I thought this was just for wyverns and their mates,” Cyrene asked Kostya, frowning at the archimage.
Dr. Kostich ignored her. “Hence the fact that the watch is, at this very moment, speeding its way here to arrest you.” “What does it matter?” Kostya answered, his features set in a pout. “No one is listening to me. No one cares about anything but their bellies. No one wants to see justice done. I’m the only one here who is actually concerned about making Baltic pay for his heinous crimes — are those crab and papaya rice rolls any good?” “Your watch cannot touch us,” Baltic told Kostich, who frowned at him, but was unable to speak due to another mini scone he was eating. “Dragons are not governed by the L’au-dela. He has no authority over us, mate, so you need not fear that his threats are anything more than idle.” “I assure you they’re quite real,” Kostich answered, bits of crumbs flying as he spoke around the mouthful of scone.
“Voulez-vous cesser de ma cracher dessus pendant que vous parlez?” Aisling murmured.
Dr. Kostich, sitting across from her, stared.
“Sorry. I’ve been dying to find a chance to say that,” she said, brushing the crumbs from in front of her plate. “Rene will be so proud.” “That’s right,” I said slowly, thinking about what Baltic said. “Dragons aren’t part of the L’au-dela.” “Dragons aren’t, no,” Dr. Kostich said, taking the glass I’d set down for Baltic, sipping the champagne with a thoughtful look. “Quite a decent vintage. My compliments. As I was saying, your chubby mate is right — I have no authority over dragons. However, I do over humans, and you, my ex-apprentice, are close enough to human to count as one. It is true that I would have a hard time punishing him, but you are a very different matter, and since I can’t have the one who perpetrated the crimes against me, I will take the next best thing: you.” “Just once I’d like to be charged with something that I’ve done,” I said. “What do you think you’re going to do to me?” “I’ve already told you — banishment to the Akasha.” A horrible feeling gripped me in cold, clammy hands. Banishment to the Akasha was no laughing matter — the place the mortal world thought of as limbo was not one which many beings ever escaped. “You can’t do that,” I protested.