Amero cleared his throat. “If we’re going to be truthful, there’s one here older even than the elves.” He looked up at the dragon, smiling. “You’re past two hundred, aren’t you?”
“Well past,” agreed Duranix.
“Will you hear our declaration?”
The bronze dragon nodded, a habit he’d acquired since knowing Amero. His scales rang with the gesture.
“Come forward and face us,” Amero said.
Duranix clomped toward them, scattering villagers in his way. Framed by the twin bonfires, his metallic scales took on the color of fire itself. He opened his wings to their fullest extent, some forty paces from tip to tip and inflated his broad chest with air.
Amero winked at Lyopi. His old friend was showing off.
“I am Amero, son of Oto and Kinar,” the Arkuden shouted, “brother of Nianki and Menni, called the Dragon’s Son!”
There was some muttering at the mention of Menni, but the declaration went on.
Lyopi, her chestnut hair free of its usual braid and falling in shining waves to her waist, spoke. “I am Lyopi, daughter of Bydas and Ensamen, sister of Unar.”
Her voice broke on the name of her murdered brother, and Amero took her hand, squeezing it gently.
In unison they said, “Know all that we are mated, that all we have belongs to both of us!”
They bowed together to Duranix. “Such a lot of trouble just to breed,” he said in his booming voice. Some of the nomads laughed.
“You should say, ‘I know you, Amero and Lyopi’” Amero prompted.
“I know you, Amero and Lyopi,” the dragon repeated dutifully. “Stubborn, curious, passionate, and loyal are you both. Salute!”
He threw back his head and let his jaws gape. Blue-white lightning erupted from his mouth, crackling straight up into the starry sky. The crowd shifted and exclaimed at the display of power.
Amero’s own awed expression, as he stared up at the bolt lancing into the stars, dissolved into a frown of characteristic curiosity. Where did it go? he wondered. Did the bolt travel forever until it struck something, or did it fade out in time, like a spark carried aloft from a campfire?
Lyopi tugged at his arm and whispered, “Remember me? I’m your mate.”
They embraced and kissed to the cheers of the crowd. The flute players found some drummers among the villagers, and they struck up a fast melody. Round dances sprang up in the crowd as well-wishers flowed past Amero and Lyopi.
Balif was one of the first. “Good fortune to you,” the elf said sincerely. “It’s been quite an experience for me, coming here. Remind me to thank Karada for capturing us!”
“Peace to you, Lord Balif,” said Amero. “Peace in the truest sense. I hope the war between you and my sister is over for good.”
“We shall see. Farewell to you both.”
Farolenu clasped hands with Amero and presented Lyopi with a small golden charm on a length of woven grass twine. It glittered in the firelight. Amero tied it around Lyopi’s neck as she examined it.
“It’s pretty,” she said, pleased. “A beetle?”
“A spider,” said Farolenu. “The symbol of my smithing guild.”
He and Balif were soon swallowed in the crowd. Old friends streamed past, wishing the newly mated couple well—Adjat the potter, Montu the cooper, Hulami, Targun, Pakito, and Samtu. The amiable giant all but wrung Amero’s hand off, he was so enthusiastic.
“Being mated is the best thing in the world!” he enthused. “Better than a fine horse or a straight spear!”
“Good to know you rate so highly,” Lyopi said to Samtu.
The stout nomad woman eyed her towering mate. “He didn’t say it was better than elk steak. That’s what he loves most, you know.”
“Now, Sammi—” Pakito began. Laughing, she pulled him away so others could approach.
Beramun emerged from the press with Harak. Her left arm was in a sling, and she looked wan. Amero had heard about developments between them from Karada, but this was the first time he’d seen them together.
“Thank you for everything,” Amero said to Beramun. “None of this would be happening if it weren’t for you.”
“I only did what others tried to do. Fate and the Great Spirits let me find Karada.”
“I didn’t mean that, though you were wonderful on your mission, too. I meant you refused me, and for that I’m grateful.”
“As am I,” said Harak with a grin.
“Will you be joining Karada’s band?” Lyopi asked.
“I go where Beramun goes,” he said simply. “I don’t much care where that is.”
Beramun said, “I don’t know what we’ll end up doing, but we are leaving with Karada tomorrow.”
She and Lyopi kissed each other’s cheek, then she did the same to Amero.
They exchanged words with Bahco, Hekani, and almost the entire crowd present. The only conspicuous absence was Karada. To Amero’s query, Bahco said he hadn’t seen his chief since before moonrise.
Amero realized it was hard for his sister to see him mated and happy. She herself would likely never know a moment such as this.
“I must find Nianki,” he said in Lyopi’s ear. “I need to see her.”
She understood. “Try dark and quiet places. If I were Karada, that’s where I’d be right now.”
He promised to return to Lyopi’s house—their house—before too late. Giving his hand a squeeze, she let him go. Amero slipped into the happy throng and worked his way away from the noise and fire.
He called silently to Duranix, Have you seen Karada?
Not lately, but she’s near. I can sense her presence.
Amero stopped in his tracks. You can?
My senses have grown sharper with the years. Nowadays, her thoughts seem as loud as yours were when we first met.
Dust swirled over the festive mob. Amero looked up and saw Duranix had taken wing.
Going home? he asked the dragon.
Hunting. The trifles you served at your feast only teased my appetite. There’s a great herd of elk a few leagues from here. I’m off to roast a few....
Good luck, thought Amero. Let’s talk tomorrow. I have new ideas for Yala-tene I need your help to accomplish.
Of course you do. Till then.
“Until then,” Amero murmured aloud.
The vast bulk of the dragon blotted out the stars as he winged away to the southwest. Amero felt great gladness as he watched the departure. Duranix’s responses were more like his old self. Once he became involved in daily life in the village again, the wanderlust of recent days was sure to leave him.
Since Bahco said he hadn’t seen Karada in their camp, Amero started his search with the lakeshore from the west baffle back to the old foundry. He saw the Silvanesti sleeping on their bedrolls outside the broken foundry walls, but he found no sign of his sister. Doubling back, he went as far as the old raider camp and the stone towers of the fallen bridge. His feet crunched over the dross of battle—broken spears and throwing sticks, scraps of leather armor. Compared to the life and noise of the feast, the site of Zannian’s camp was like a graveyard. Nianki wasn’t there, so he quickly left.
The only remaining possibility was the nomad camp. Perhaps she had returned there after Bahco left for the mating ceremony. Amero skirted the fringes of the celebration, as he didn’t want to be delayed by well-meaning greetings.
The camp itself was calm. A few dogs tied in front of their masters’ tents barked at him as he passed. At one spot he saw something he hadn’t seen before—a willow rack laden with cured yevi hides. The yevi pack that had accompanied the raiders to the valley had been devastated during the siege, and before Karada’s arrival most had been killed or run off. Nomad hunters searched the neighboring valleys after the final battle, killing every yevi they found. Their gray, shaggy skins were too coarse to wear, but Amero knew why Karada’s people saved the hides. Posted in the high passes, yevi pelts served as a potent warning to other would-be marauders.