We were led out of the chapel into the courtyard. The chanters were left behind, but the numbers were more than made up by the people waiting for us. They were also wearing outer robes, but in a variety of colours, many with embroidery of contrasting shades. There was even more variation in their visible undergarments. Minister Greenfield matched his name with ankle length green tunics the exact shade of the outer robe, but most had tunics that ended at the knee. In a few cases the tunics were barely long enough that their unmentionables were covered, rather than being fully outlined by the stretchy leggings. The last set was also the most likely to be wearing sheathed knives on their belts.

I was grateful for the warmth of my own robe. It could have been worse – the courtyard was protected on all four sides from the wind and the heavy stones of the surrounding buildings radiated heat – but it was still colder than I was used to. The lunch provided was finger foods, provided buffet style from several stations around the room. There were many tall little tables scattered around, but no seating of any description. A system designed for mingling rather than for comfort. We were provided with magic towels to clean our hands with first. It was one of my first exposures to magic, and I was very disappointed. I think it’s reasonable to assume such things should be warm, fluffy bundles of comfort. Instead, they were aggressively enthusiastic snakes of sandpaper. This was nothing that I thought would be tolerated in a civilised society. This was clearly the result of some plot of an evil god.

> Some researchers take this as proof that His Devotion, Saint Percival the Investigator, was aware of the insurrection within the Court of Purity since the very earliest of stages. I believe that is reading somewhat too deeply into a throwaway complaint.

I collected my small plateful of bite-sized foods while keeping an ear on my two fellow ‘heroes’. Branneth found a group of younger men to impress with tales of his previous exploits. Lilianna had been collected by one of the few women present at the gathering. She was doing a reasonable job of acquiring more information on the expectations and provisions for a female hero. To my surprise, given the make-up of the room, dragon-riders were evenly split between the genders. It wasn’t clear to me whether the practice of bonding female dragons to female riders, and male to males was societal or biological. I would have to investigate more details about the bonding to see if there were further ways I could render myself ineligible.

I slowly drifted away to pursue some sleuthing of my own. My best source was a bubbly young man who had eagerly introduced himself as a fellow adherent of the god I supposedly worshipped, by the name of Assistant Oxeden. I gathered the primary threat we were expected to defend against was some creatures called thunderstorm owls, sent by the neighbouring people of the Cammions. The Cammions were, as I understood it, a group of clans with a similar cultural heritage, rather than a country as I would have defined the term. A group that resorted to violence as the appropriate solution to all their problems. It sounded chaotic and uncomfortable and, as expected, entirely too likely to end with me in pain somewhere.

After that subject had been exhausted for the time, I brought up my most recent concerns about how careful I would have to be in revealing my true feelings.

“One thing that does occur to me,” I said. “When Minister Greenfield used magic on us, it was close to undetectable. Is it possible that an enemy or a spy might similarly perform magic and have it pass without notice?”

“Ah, no,” said Assistant Oxenden. “That is a fear we share with you, Hero Percy. It is truly admirable how quickly you identified that weakness. Not to worry. The whole complex is saturated with anti-magic carvings. We explicitly add the magics we allow as an exception. Many places have a similar system. Minister Greenfield is an accredited healer, so he is permitted to perform any healing ritual he has been certified for. Other people have exceptions allowed for their professions. Those Cammion barbarians wouldn’t be able to perform any magic whatsoever.”

I considered whether that helped me or not. On the balance of it, not. By that logic, they could easily introduce an exception that allowed the resident spy-master to function.

“Also,” Assistant Oxenden continued, “I would mention that Minister Greenfield is one of the most skilled magic users in the country. There aren’t many who are able to cast a ritual without even a hand gesture. Most of us need the full chalk-and-chanting process to manage anything significant. We were very lucky that he agreed to direct the summoning, considering.”

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

“Considering what?” I asked.

“I would be interested in hearing the answer to that question as well,” interrupted Minister Greenfield from behind poor Assistant Oxenden. Assistant Oxenden jumped and paled. He looked ready to stab himself with his decorative dagger.

“I apologise, Minister. I shouldn’t—” he said.

“No, no, carry on with your explanation,” said Minister Greenfield cruelly.

“Ah, that is, it’s said that you feel there are better solutions to our current problems.”

Minister Greenfield held his strict expression for a further few heartbeats, long enough for sweat to visibly gather on Assistant Oxenden’s forehead.

“That is true enough,” Minister Greenfield said at length. “However, I would not have been so impolitic to mention it directly to the face of a hero. Since we have presumed on the heroes to bring them to our land, we should be doing everything in our power to make them feel welcomed and appreciated.”

The words were intended as a reprimand, and Assistant Oxenden took them that way. “Of course. My apologies again. I was careless and thoughtless.”

“May I ask what your preferred solution is?” I said, drawing Minister Greenfield’s attention away before he could pursue it any further.

The kindly hero I was trying to present myself as would not just stand there and watch someone be bullied in front of him. Besides, I was honestly interested. A little dissention within the ranks could be nothing but a good thing for me.

Minister Greenfield sighed theatrically. “My absolute preferred solution is unfortunately not a genuine possibility. I believe we should simply cease breeding dragons on the border. I do not believe there is any genuine risk of the Cammions crossing the spires to make war on the plains. No army of any size could make it. If they had no dragons to fight against, their thunderstorm owls would have no targets.”

“I can see how that might be seen as an act of weakness,” I said, trying figure out how intelligent it was wisest to appear. “It would be unpopular to seem to be running away from the conflict.”

“That is a part of it, yes,” said Minister Greenfield. “But it’s the smaller part. The larger part is that they have largely been unsuccessful in breeding dragons anywhere outside of the spires. It would be a death sentence to the entire dragon force.”

It was interesting that the good minister did not consider himself part of the group that was breeding dragons.

Before I could consider another question, Assistant Oxenden looked over my shoulder with such an expression of relief that I turned myself. An older man in red and black and a knife of his own was hurrying over.

“Oxenden,” he said as soon as he was in comfortable speaking distance. “Thank you for keeping the hero company.”

Assistant Oxenden immediately bowed and excused himself. I imagine he was relieved to have an excuse to make a getaway from the looming menace of Minister Greenfield, and didn’t take his swift retreat personally.

“Hero Percy, may I present Academy Leader Silver?” said Minister Greenfield, his fake politeness managing that difficult task of being both immediately apparent and impossible to complain about.

“Thank you, Minister,” said Academy Leader Silver. His own fake politeness wasn’t bad, but it lacked the sharp edges of Minister Greenfield’s. “Hero Percy, I am so glad you have come to us. There are some people I would like to introduce you to, if you could excuse us, Minister?”

Minister Greenfield half-bowed mockingly, and I let myself be taken away. Academy Leader Silver brought me into a group of people who would definitely have played rugby at their boarding schools.

> His Devotion, Saint Percival the Investigator, is referring to an aggressive ball sport common on his home world. From other works, we can deduce that he is characterising them as being physically large, coming from old money, and alcoholic.

“Rescue mission achieved,” said one, to a general cheer.

I was handed a glass of something chilled and suspicious. I pretended to drink from it while plotting to dispose of it when I could. Although if they kept us outside for much later into the evening, I might come to regret whatever insulation it seemed to be providing to the group. Half had swept their robes entirely back and behind their shoulders, and two had removed theirs entirely.

“Greenfield’s face!” crowed another.

“He looks like we just pissed on his shoes.”

“Why’d he even officiate the summoning? He can’t possibly be the only minister they could have sent.”

“Just ignore him. He’ll be gone soon enough.”

Tentatively, I prompted, “I get the impression that Minister Greenfield doesn’t approve of dragons.”

“Ha! He’s just upset Academy Leader Silver was awarded the position here and cut his family out of it.”

“Now, now,” said Academy Leader Silver insincerely. “I’m sure that Minister Greenfield is simply advocating for the health and peace of the people.”

“More like advocating for health of his own coin-purse,” muttered another.

Academy Leader Silver pretended he hadn’t heard the aside, so I politely pretended likewise.

It might not be immediately useful information. I didn’t have any money or skills that would appeal to Minister Greenfield in my personal capacity. But it did suggest that some long-term plans might be possible. And perhaps I could convince him that simply removing me from the scope of his enemies would be a victory in and of itself.

Memo to self: find alternative occupations or opportunities

Step 1: come up with excuse to speak with Minister Greenfield in private.

Step 1A: find out when he is due to leave.