One sound, she could hear above all the rest: Neeva screaming in pain and joy as she struggled to bring her child into the world. As Sadira sat listening, the shrieks of pain suddenly gave way to the sound of blissful laughter and the wail of a newborn infant.
A moment later. Rikus rushed around the corner, his sword still drawn. Where the Dragon’s blood had splattered him, the mul’s chest and legs were covered with white blisters. “What happened?” he asked, looking around as if he expected the Dragon to pounce on him at any moment.
Sadira gave the mul a warm smile. “Why don’t you tell me?” she asked. “Did Neeva have a boy or a girl?”
EPILOGUE
Far down the caravan road from Tyr, King Tithian I stood on a toppled argosy, staring into the moonlit eyes of the Dragon. Only through a practiced force of will could he keep his knees from trembling, and he was acutely conscious that the golden diadem resting on his brow had been fashioned for a head somewhat smaller than his own.
“It was Nibenay who failed to stop Sadira from finding the Pristine Tower, not me,” Tithian was saying. “My only mistake was trusting them.” He pointed at the two heads hanging from the Dragon’s waist.
“Your mistake was in believing you could rule Tyr!” hissed Sacha.
“And in daring to think you were smarter than your slaves!” added Wyan.
The Dragon laid a single hand over the heads, pressing a finger into each of their eyes. Both Sacha and Wyan fell silent immediately.
“You may continue,” snarled Borys, digging his claws on farther than truly necessary to keep the heads quiet.
“I promise you, my city will meet its levy next year,” Tithian answered, forcing himself not to look at the torture being inflicted on his former advisors.
“Your city!” the Dragon scoffed. “Tyr belonged to Kalak, and Kalak to me. His power was my power, and you have robbed me of that.”
Tithian shook his head defiantly. “No, we did you a favor. Kalak was trying to become a dragon so he could take your place.”
“I’ll be the judge of what favors me and what does not,” the great beast snarled. “All sorcerer-kings are dragons of one kind or another, though they assume different shapes to suit their tastes. If Kalak wished to fashion himself after my form, that was his business-but he would not have dreamed of taking my place. Saying such things only shows how little you know about what you’ve taken upon yourself.”
“Then show me,” said Tithian.
The beast narrowed his great eyes. “You are too bold. I should kill you and the entire city for your impudence.”
“But that would be a great waste, or you would have done it already,” said Tithian. “On the other hand, if you grant me one small boon, I’ll double the levy that Kalak paid.”
The Dragon turned his head and regarded the king with a single black eye. “And in return? What do you want of me?”
“Nothing difficult,” answered Tithian. “Just help me become a sorcerer-king.”