“Understand that this is not a deflection—I simply feel it appropriate to clarify something first. I am making it a point of practice…and, I suppose, principle…not to take this opportunity to undercut the others in their absence, which obligates me to give full credit where I deem it deserved.”
He nodded, keeping his posture still and his expression open, and she turned to face him directly.
“Tiavathyris does value mortal lives, and would take great offense if you suggested otherwise in her hearing. In the course of her long life she has several times lived among mortals for extended periods, and come to value many as comrades and friends. But she respects strength, and in particular, the will to seek it out, to hone and to wield it. I do not know the details, but I have observed over the years that she has seemed to be waiting for something, or perhaps seeking something, and growing increasingly frustrated when it failed to appear. As the cultures of the Evervales developed as you just noted—passively, fatalistically, with a presumed helplessness that impels them to flee and hide rather than fight—Tiavathyris has gradually lost respect for and interest in them. To know more in any detail you would need to ask her, husband, but I do urge you not to dismiss her out of hand.”
“Of course,” he agreed. “Thank you for the perspective.”
“As for Emeralaphine…” Izayaroa pursed her lips in annoyance. “Doubtless it is not lost on you that we tend to butt heads, husband, so do recognize my bias and judge accordingly. Of Emeralaphine, I can definitely say that she holds no malice toward mortals—a contrast which has long been very meaningful to me, as Atraximos actively despised all races but his own, with particular contempt for those with shorter lives and lesser personal power. It has stuck in my throat somewhat because he tried to instill the same in his children.”
“And…did he succeed at that?” Kaln asked very carefully.
She made a wry little grimace. “Fortunately not; none of them have ever cared for his opinion on any subject beyond knowing how to avoid setting off his temper. The dismissal with which he treated his own consorts and offspring ruled out any possibility of ever instilling his own values in any of us. To you and I, husband, that might seem an obvious outcome, but it is a lesson frequently lost on dragons. And upon beings similarly born into great power which requires no particular self-discipline to exercise.”
“I see,” he said, nodding again.
“Emeralaphine is simply not interested in mortals. I do know she lived among them for a time in her youth, as many dragons do. Hers is not an active disdain, but merely…detachment. Immortals of any kind are often prone to that.”
“I would imagine,” he agreed, “if you see entire generations rise and fall over the course of your own life, it must start to seem pointless to get attached. Even painful.”
“We do have a different relationship with time, though it is perhaps a bit more complex than that. But in any case, you asked about me. I suppose that is more than enough waffling.”
Kaln stepped forward, reaching out to gently take her hand, which she allowed.
“At the risk of repeating myself, I’m not here to judge—not the others, and certainly not you, Izayaroa. More than any of them, in your case I assumed there must be explanations for anything which confuses me, if you deign to share them. I really only want to understand.”
“You have not offended me, husband,” she assured him quietly, squeezing his hands. “I flatter myself that I have sufficient character to give a reasonable account for my own actions.”
Still, she hesitated another moment, and Kaln stepped backward, gently pulling her along. Out of the echoing gold-trimmed marble of the bathroom and into the much cozier bedchamber.
“I fear,” she said at last, directly a thoughtful frown at him, “that the ease with which you dispatched him may have damaged your understanding of the sheer physical threat Atraximos posed.”
“Well, I am aware of history. He’s been…a fact of life in this part of the world for so long that I can’t even imagine how civilization will adjust to his absence.”
“But less an intimate threat to you than anyone raised in the Evervales. Despite how it may have seemed, Atraximos was a defensive thinker, primarily. The focus of his spells, his pacts, even the artifacts he tended to collect, all his efforts were bent toward rendering himself invulnerable rather than developing mastery or might, as Emeralaphine and Tiavathyris did, for example. He was…a living, flying citadel. Even the most basic weapons of a dragon are sufficient to devastate an empire, if the dragon in question is all but untouchable. None of us could have destroyed him in combat—I honestly don’t believe any dragon currently alive could, nor any but a very few of the gods. The three of us together, had we decided to turn on him…well, that would have been an uncomfortably close thing. I, for my part, never dared raise the idea, for if even one of the other consorts chose to side with him, the result would have been decisive defeat for the rebels. For countless years now I have been waiting for another power to rise which would overwhelm him; I have lived long enough to know that one always does. That is the way of the world.”
She smiled at him—a complex expression that was wry and sad, yet also genuinely amused. Letting go of his hand, she turned and strolled to the window, pushing back the gilt-edged velvet brocade curtains. The window looked out over the street in front of the Renaissance. And for some reason it had iron bars on the outside, as if this were a prison.
“And strangely enough, that’s not even how it happened. Atraximos himself created the one, incredibly specific thing that could destroy him… Because that is essentially what happens to a powerful being which attacks a godling at the moment of their apotheosis. All the limitless potential of creation itself, pointed suddenly at one implacable goal: obliterate this dragon. I don’t know how to overstate the incredible rarity, and…specificity of what happened between the two of you. In any conventional attack I could imagine, no matter who you are or what power you possessed, I don’t believe you could have prevailed.”
“Are you concerned about me getting a big head?” Kaln asked, smiling.
She turned back to face him, not smiling.
“No, husband. I am concerned about you thinking me a coward.”
“I do not,” he said without hesitation, holding her gaze. “I understand what you were dealing with. Surely not to the extent you do, but intellectually? I grasp the situation. Even if I hadn’t promised not to judge you, Izayaroa, for this I definitely would not.”
Her shoulders slumped faintly in a soft sigh, and she gave him a weak smile, moving slowly back toward the center of the room. She seated herself gracefully on one side of a velvet-padded loveseat, and Kaln stepped over to join her.
“And so it was. Atraximos had just destroyed Valereld, taking all the lands of the old Empire as his hunting ground. Worse, he ensconced himself in a lair practically on its southern border; were it to become the center of his range, it would easily encompass my Rhivaak. There was no question I could defeat him in a confrontation. With the full resources of my empire and the combined strength of the Nine… At best, we had a coin flip’s odds of forcing him back, leaving us sharing a border with a hostile dragon of immense power. And even that much was far from assured—the prospect of defeat and devastation was very real. So, as does every nation unable to protect itself through physical force, I resorted to diplomacy.”
She looked resolute now, and calm, but seemed reluctant to meet Kaln’s eyes again. He reached across and took one of her hands; she not only allowed it, but squeezed his fingers as she continued.
“You have likely already observed that dragons living in a family unit are jealous of our individual territories, and any such unit stable enough to survive is built on respect for that territory. The only way for me to keep Atraximos out of Rhivaak was for him to acknowledge it as mine, which would only matter to him if I acknowledged myself as his. And so, I made the choice a ruler must.”
Izayaroa lifted her head again, meeting Kaln’s eyes.
“I assure you, husband, I know very well the damage we have done to these lands. I know it, and I feel the weight. But nowhere in that burden is regret. I am an Empress, and I protected my people. In an ideal world, all affairs between nations would be built upon cooperation and mutual benefit; in the world that exists, one realm’s prosperity often comes at another’s expense, and it is the sworn duty of a ruler to do what is best for their people, even if others must suffer for it. By protecting Rhivaak, I condemned the Evervales. That is the choice with which I must live, resolute in the knowledge that I could have made no other.”
He could see it in her face, in her eyes, even in their disguised state: the certainty she spoke of, but also the grief at what she had deemed the necessity. And somehow… Though she was unimpeachably poised as always, something in her aspect was vulnerable in a way he had never seen on her, nor even imagined.
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Despite the screaming in the back of his head that he was being presumptuous and offensive, Kaln embraced the first impulse he had: shifting closer to her on the loveseat, he turned and wrapped his arms around her, picking her up and moving her into his lap. Izayaroa looked surprised at this sudden handling, but didn’t resist or object. And in fact, once he had her settled and embraced her tightly with both arms, she leaned into him with a soft sigh, resting her forehead in the crook of his neck.
“I am in no way competent to weigh these choices against each other,” Kaln murmured. “What I can tell you is that I grew up in Rhivkabat—I, an orphan, someone whom I am well aware would likely have ended up begging for scraps on the streets in more countries than otherwise. I was given an upbringing and an education, a chance at a life, because of the standards you created. So were countless others. I won’t argue Rhivaak is perfect. Gods know I’ve had my own problems with…certain of its systems. But as one of your people, Izayaroa, I can tell you with my whole heart that you have done well by us. We prosper, and thrive, and even in our failures and the darkest corners of our civilization we are better off than the people of many other nations. We know, and appreciate, whose guiding hand we have to thank for it. Whatever harm you’ve done, you have also succeeded brilliantly, and made all the difference for countless souls.”
She began twisting in his grasp, her motions suddenly awkward and frantic in a way they hadn’t been even during sex, but far from trying to escape him, she was turning to clutch him directly. The position seemed probably uncomfortable for her lower back, but then, dragons were probably more durable and flexible than humans. Still sitting sideways across his lap, she pressed her chest against his, embracing him tightly, and buried her face in his neck.
“Thank you, Kaln.”
He held her, pressing a kiss to the riot of curls atop her head, and gently rocked them back and forth for a while.
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Kaln was actually relieved a short time later when they left the opulent suite; he was still so unaccustomed to wealth as to be actively uncomfortable in its presence. The dragon’s hoard and the vast quantity of coin currently tucked in his bag of holding were one thing—they were outside the scope of what he considered normal life, almost alien. That set of rooms were designed for mortals like himself, people whose understanding of the world seemed even more orthogonal to his own than the dragons’.
“Tomorrow, we shall go to the merchant guild I recommend. It is a bit late in the day, and I don’t want to risk having to break up our business across two sessions, or being out and about past dark. This city is somewhat less…orderly than Rhivkabat.”
“Are you worried for our safety?” he asked teasingly.
Izayaroa gave him a little smirk. “I am worried about the unnecessary complications that may begin to spiral if I am forced to address any untoward attentions aimed at us.”
“More to the point, do you really think our business with the merchants will take that long?”
“In fact, I am possibly applying excessive caution. No, I don’t really expect to be that long occupied with them. It’s more that our specific errand there is somewhat outside my experience; I’ve bought individual artworks and artifacts from them, not arranged consistent deliveries of prosaic foodstuffs. Truly I doubt it could possibly take more than a few hours, but by indulging in an abundance of consideration we gain a free evening tonight. And after all, I have two additional purposes for this trip.”
“Oh? Two?”
“First and foremost, I have promised to indulge you most shamelessly, husband,” she said, glancing coyly up and him, then lifting their joined hands so she could kiss his. “A great metropolis Boisverd may not be, but it should provide ample resources for me to show you a good time. And in addition to that, I wish to indulge my curiosity about how the current regime runs things.”
“Ah, a professional interest,” he said, nodding. “Well, obviously I won’t be able to appreciate the details to the extent you will, but I confess to some intellectual curiosity along the same lines. You needn’t worry, I hardly expect to be bored.”
“Indeed you shall not be, husband, for I believe I know exactly where to find the answer to both goals, conveniently together.”
Kaln blinked, trying to fathom what she could possibly be hinting at and coming up blank. She gave him another of those looks, sly and amused; it was definitely a departure, her being short enough to look up at him through her rich lashes, but he didn’t hate it.
“You, my love, are a tease.”
“I seem to recall teaching you an appreciation for that quality last night.”
“It was an observation, not a complaint.”
She laughed and he basked in the pure happiness of her musical alto mirth washing over him. They stepped off the staircase and around the corner, passing the front desk where the concierge smiled and bowed to them, and from there it was but a few more paces to the front door. As before, the diffident servant opened and held it for them, bowing; again, following Izayaroa’s lead, Kaln stepped past without glancing at or acknowledging him. It felt rude, even knowing that here, to do otherwise would have been the offense.
Outside there was nothing comparable to the carriage area adjacent to the market; there just wasn’t room on this street. However, Kaln now noticed that there were several of those distinctive black two-wheeled horse-drawn vehicles parked at the sides of the street here and there, carefully positioned not to obstruct any of the doors.
Izayaroa headed right to the nearest of these, as before climbing into the seat without speaking to the driver first.
“A lovely afternoon to a lovely lord and lady!” said the driver, a bluff-faced woman with a flat black hat like Forcherot had worn, turning and tugging down the brim in their direction. “And where’ve we a fancy to visit today, eh?”
“Tell me,” said Izayaroa, “where in Boisverd do the Nhiyah congregate?”
Kaln managed not to outwardly betray startlement at this question. The driver seemed to find nothing untoward about it in the slightest.
“Ah, you want the Roundabout!” She flicked the reins and the horse pulled them forward, out into the street. “Just makin’ conversation, or have I started us in the right direction?”
“That sounds perfect, thank you,” Izayaroa answered smoothly. “Tell me, what sort of place is this Roundabout?”
If their driver found it odd that they wanted to go somewhere without having any idea what they’d find, she continued not to show it.
“Entertainment district! Just the place for a pair of well-heeled travelers such as yourselves to let down your hair a bit for the evening. And you two’ll be proper popular, I should think! Coin’s coin and a professional doesn’t discriminate, but the Nhiyah’re known to have a soft spot for pretty people. Also for Imperials, you bein’ from the southlands, eh? However you want to pass the time, you’ll find it there. Public houses, theaters, all manner o’ specialty shops, brothels, even a couple casinos, dance halls…”
“Ah, so the Nhiyah work chiefly as entertainers in Boisverd, then. Anything…else? In many places, they are widely associated with theft and violence.”
“Aye, so I hear, pickin’ up foreign travelers as I do. Seems downright odd to my ears! Really, the Nhiyah, criminals? I guess bein’ nimble would be of use in pickin’ pockets or windowsills, but nah. They’re small, they’re cute, they’ve no magic and they’re perpetual outsiders. Folk like that are usually the best behaved in town, not the worst. Any time ruffians get riled up, Nhiyah and the like are the easiest targets. Doesn’t suit ‘em to make themselves unpopular, see?”
“So this is a safe district, then?” Kaln asked. Izayaroa shot him an amused look, which he tried to bear with good humor.
“Oh, you can count on that, m’lord! The Nhiyah don’t stand for any shenanigans—their livelihood depends on people with coin feelin’ secure enough to come spend it! First hint o’ trouble and they run right for the city watch. Since you’re new to our fair city I’ll give you some free advice: if you wanna stay safe, look to the coach drivers!” She turned to grin at them. “Don’t go anywhere a coachie refuses to take you—or anywhere a coachie seems weirdly insistent on takin’ you without bein’ asked first. Follow those two rules and you’ll be as safe in Boisverd as anyone can expect to be in these lands.”
“We thank you for that excellent advice,” Izayaroa said gravely.
“All part of the service, m’lady!”
“This is encouraging so far,” Izayaroa added more quietly.
Kaln leaned toward her, lowering his voice. “Why are you so interested in the Nhiyah?”
Again she smirked at him. “Tell me, husband, did you often interact with them in Rhivkabat?”
“I mean, now and then—I had to visit markets and government offices the same as anyone. You meet all sorts of folk. I never found reason to go to the dockside district where they mostly live in Rhivkabat.”
“Are they well thought of, in the city?” He took note that her expression had sobered markedly, and answered her with all due seriousness.
“I’ve heard the same rumors you just mentioned, but never any credible accounts of Nhiyah crime rings. They tend to hold themselves a bit apart as a culture, and that inevitably leads to rumor. I certainly was never aware of any widespread sentiment against them. Rhivkabat is very pluralist, just as…” He paused, glancing at the driver’s back. “…the Empress wished. The Nhiyah are…fine. Just people, like any other group. Even if talking to them can be…exasperating.”
She chuckled, leaning her head against his shoulder, and he draped an arm around her, increasingly curious what the plan here was.
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The Roundabout seemed to be a hill. Or maybe it was the architecture rather than the terrain, or possibly both. In any case, it was a whole, vertical district, the gables and spires typical of Verdi architecture rising ever higher to a noticeable peak from a towering structure in the center: an enormous clock tower. Or what had been one, once. The round faces on four sides still had glass in spots, bracketed in place by wrought iron, but the roof was long gone, and its surviving stonework charred black.
Not hard to guess what had happened here.
The area where the clockwork had been now seemed to be a rooftop space, blazing with light and activity. In fact, the whole district stood out from its surroundings due to light and color; it had lamps on even in the broad daylight, and stained glass in many windows that would make the whole place light up like a riotous rainbow in the darkness. Bright pennants and banners were hung everywhere, further enlivening the view.
It seemed the actual street into the Roundabout was too narrow for the coach, so they were dropped off outside with a cheery farewell—the cheerier after Izayaroa overpaid for their ride. It left them only with a short walk to the entrance, which their driver hadn’t wanted to obstruct. Kaln was interested to see how obviously an entrance it was: rather than just another intersection, there was a double gateway separating off the Roundabout’s main street, divided by a small tower which protruded slightly into the square outside. There were no actual gates under the stone arches, just colorful banners above and strings of paper lanterns just out of reach overhead.
And in the gates were the touts. Kaln was familiar with the type from Rhivkabat’s entertainment districts, though back home none of those seemed to have a racial predominance. But there they were, calling out, flirting, handing out flowers and flyers and generally trying to entice customers into their domain. It was interesting to him that rather than individual establishments posting individual touts to recruit passersby outside their own doors, these seemed to be collectively pitching the entertainment district itself. So they must have some degree of organization, here. Because, aside from their cooperation, they were all Nhiyah.
Just as he remembered them from back home. Shorter on average than humans and slimmer of build, they mostly looked human, except for the furry triangular ears atop their heads, and their fluffy tails. As he and Izayaroa drew closer, he could see their elongated canines and vertically slitted pupils—rather like a dragon’s, though that comparison wouldn’t have occurred to him before.
And then the pair of them were spotted, and swarmed.
“Wewcome! Wewcome to ouw weawm of enchantment and excitement!”
“Ooh, pwease take this! A wovewy fwowew fow a wovewy young coupwe!
“You’we just too pwetty to stiww be sobew at this houw! I know just the pwace to get that fixed!”
“Be suwe to visit the Paw Pad! Evewybody needs a massage—coupwes wewcome! Fow cuties wike you two, thewe’d be a nice discount!”
“Awe you visiting us? Yay! I’m so excited! We wove gowgeous fwiends wike you!”
Yep, they did that in Filvallin as well as Vhii. Kaln put on a smile as a garland of flowers was draped around his neck; Izayaroa laughed in seeming delight, squeezing his hand, as a crown of them was set atop her hair.
Surrounded by cute, eager, feline entertainers, they were ushered into the district for a night of… Well, hopefully fun. He could already tell he was going to need a drink.