And in fact, the giant dragonfly did behave herself. As the travelers approached, she turned her head to regard them with her globular eyes and shook out her wings with a series of percussive snaps that, Khouryn suspected, might be responsible for her name, but that was all. Meanwhile, Qari rose stiffly from his chair to greet Nellis with the deference befitting a commoner greeting a grandee, but with genuine fondness as well.
“My companions and I need to see the empress,” Nellis said.
“Of course,” the old man said. “If you’ll all please step into the gondola.” He waved his hand at what amounted to an open wooden box. Ropes ran from the four corners to holes drilled in the chitin on Drummer’s belly.
When everyone was inside, Qari called, “Up! North side.” Wings a droning blur, Drummer rose into the air. The lines went taut, and, with a jerk, the gondola rose with her.
Khouryn took a long, steadying breath. Whether he was riding a griffon or a bat, he had no fear of flying because he was in control. But he wasn’t with this giant insect, and the knowledge gnawed at his nerves. He distracted himself by taking in the view.
With its countless ornately carved terraces, friezes, and windows, Skyclave certainly merited closer inspection, and so did the lands beyond. It was there that any resemblance to Djerad Thymar and the area around it broke down. The dragonborn’s bastion-city rose from a fertile plain. Skyclave, too, had a ring of farmland surrounding it, but east of that, crags stabbed upward, gorges split the ground, and earthmotes dotted the sky. The Imaskari likely needed flying beasts of burden to move travelers and goods across such difficult terrain.
Drummer set the gondola down on a projecting platform where a pair of sentries stood to either side of an entryway. The sentries recognized Nellis and saluted. He nodded in acknowledgment and sent one of them into the tower to announce his return and request an audience with his sovereign.
She didn’t keep him waiting long. He scarcely had time to give a silver coin to Qari before the guard reappeared to usher him and his companions inside.
The interior of the tower-or that part of it, anyway-turned out to consist of cool, spacious, high-ceilinged chambers lit with floating orbs of silvery magical glow. Those lamps were dimmer and less numerous than Khouryn might have expected. A moment earlier, he’d been standing high above the ground in bright, hot sunlight. But inside, for all that he was dwarf enough to tell the difference in a dozen different ways, he almost felt as if he’d somehow been whisked underground.
The illusion persisted when he entered the empress’s throne room. With its vaulted ceiling and surprisingly austere lines, it was an echoing, shadowy cavern of a hall. The courtiers who occupied it wore garments that, with their high collars, layers of shoulder cape, dangling sleeves, and trailing skirts, were flamboyant in cut but funereal in hue, which added to the general impression of gloom.
But Empress Ususi’s manner was warmer than the superficial appearance of her court. Stooped and wizened enough to make Qari seem young by comparison, so frail looking that one almost wondered how her wattled neck could support the weight of her golden circlet, she gave Nellis a smile. Then, however, her wrinkled face turned serious, if not positively bleak with care. “My friend. It’s an unexpected joy to see you. Although, since I didn’t recall you, I suspect that your return means more bad news.”
Nellis smiled. “Majesty, it’s my great joy to explain that appearances are deceiving. Tarhun didn’t expel me from his court or anything like that. Rather, I come with some of his most trusted lieutenants. Allow me to present Daardendrien Medrash and Daardendrien Balasar, officers of the Lance Defenders, Kanjentellequor Biri, a wizard attached to the same company, and Khouryn Skulldark, a sellsword who’s distinguished himself in the service of Tymanther.”
Ususi sighed and turned her gaze on the dragonborn and Khouryn. “And no doubt you come to ask again for military aid. It grieves me more than I can say that I must continue to refuse.”
Balasar grinned. “Don’t grieve on our account, Majesty. It’s true that Tymanther needs your help. But we mean to earn it by solving your problem first, so you won’t need your whole army on this side of the Alamber to ward off the beasts from the east.”
The empress hesitated. “And you truly believe you can accomplish this?”
“Yes,” said Medrash, “we do. We’ve learned that a dragon called Gestanius is sending the creatures to plague you. We know-more or less-how they’re making their way out of the desert and through the mountains. We believe that with the information-and the troops we brought with us-we can stop the raids.”
“Although,” Balasar said, “if you care to commit some of your own soldiers and mages to the effort, we won’t turn them down.”
Ususi turned back to Nellis. “And you believe they can do this?” she asked.
“I do,” Nellis said, “because I know what these very champions achieved in their recent war against the ash giants and the wyrms directing them. I also believe that with the empire under siege, you have little to lose and much to gain by giving them permission to undertake their expedition.”
“Except,” the ancient monarch said wryly, “that if we gain a stop to the raids, we also gain a war with Chessenta. That’s the bargain, is it not?”
“It is, Majesty,” Khouryn said, “but we hope it won’t come to that. We hope that once Tchazzar learns that High Imaskar stands with Tymanther, he’ll decide it’s too risky to invade.”
“From what I’ve heard of the Red Dragon,” Ususi said, “I wouldn’t absolutely count on that.”
“Well,” Medrash said, “then it comes down to this. Lord Nellis here, speaking on your behalf, has repeatedly assured us dragonborn that High Imaskar is our faithful friend and ally and would rush to our aid if only it weren’t fighting for its own survival. Was that the truth or hollow cant?”
The assembled courtiers seemed to catch their breath. Ususi regarded Medrash in silence for a moment. Then she said, “You have a… direct way of speaking, knight.”
“I’m a paladin of the Loyal Fury,” Medrash replied. “We say what we mean. And the knowledge that an army is even now mustering to attack my homeland makes me even less inclined to talk in circles.”
The empress smiled thinly. “Fortunately I’ve learned to appreciate directness. Probably it’s because I, too, feel I no longer have time to waste. But I need details. I need to hear how you learned what you claim to know. If your answers satisfy me, you can undertake your expedition, and if it succeeds, Tymanther and High Imaskar will face down Chessenta together.”
Cera was the only practitioner of healing magic in the company. But Son-liin had some rough-and-ready knowledge of how to clean and bandage wounds and splint broken bones. Perhaps her father had taught her so they could tend one another’s hurts when far from any other help in the wild.
Working together, they first addressed the needs of wounded genasi, of whom, thank the Yellow Sun, there were relatively few, then moved on to the injured drakes. Through it all, though she acted with brisk efficiency, the young stormsoul looked as if she might start crying.
Not because of the blood, Cera thought. She’s seen that before. Because she thinks it’s her fault.
They crouched down together beside the final wounded steed. It lay panting and trembling on its side, and bubbles swelled and popped into the blood flowing from the puncture wound in its chest.
Son-liin gave Cera a questioning look. Already knowing it was futile, she nevertheless took stock of herself and found only a hollow ache inside. For the time being, she’d exhausted her ability to channel Amaunator’s power, and no mundane remedy would suffice.