Blood of Dragons

The Elderling coughed as if to illustrate that he spoke the truth, the light sort of throat-clearing one did when afraid that coughing hard enough to clear the mucus would hurt more than it was worth. The Duke was familiar with that sort of cough. The creature drew the back of one slender blue-scaled hand across his mouth, sighed and then lifted his eyes to meet the Duke’s stare. When he let his hands drop back to his sides, the chains on his wrists rattled. His eyes were human, in this light, but when he had first been brought into the chamber his gaze had seemed lambent like a cat’s, gleaming blue in the candlelight.

‘Silence!’ Ellik spat the word at his creature. ‘Silence and on your knees before the Duke.’ He expressed his frustration with a sharp jerk on the dragon-man’s chain and the creature stumbled forward, falling to his knees and barely catching himself on his hands.

The dragon-man cried out as he slapped the floor and then, with difficulty, straightened so that he was kneeling. He glared hatred at Ellik.

As the Chancellor drew his fist back, the Duke intervened. ‘So. It can talk, can it? Let it speak, Chancellor. It amuses me.’ The Duke could see that this did not please Ellik. All the more reason to hear what the dragon-man would say.

The scaled man cleared his throat but still spoke hoarsely. His courtesy was that of a man on the crumbling edge of sanity. The Duke was familiar with that sort of final clutching at normality. Why did desperate men believe that logic and formality could restore them to a life that had vanished?

‘My name is Selden Vestrit of the Bingtown Traders, fostered by the Khuprus family of the Rain Wild Traders, and Singer to the Dragon Tintaglia. But perhaps you know that?’ The man looked up into the Duke’s face hopefully. When he saw no recognition there, he resumed speaking. ‘Tintaglia chose me to serve her, and I was glad to do so. She gave me a task. The dragon bid me go forth, to see if I could find others of her kind or hear any tales of them. And I went. I journeyed far with a group of Traders. I went for love of the dragon, but they went in the hope of gaining her favour and somehow turning that favour to wealth. But no matter where we went, our search was fruitless. The others wanted to turn back, but I knew I had to go on.’

Once more, his eyes searched the Duke’s impassive face for some sort of sympathy or interest. The Duke allowed his face to betray no interest in the tale. The dragon-singer’s voice was more subdued when he went on. ‘Eventually, my own people betrayed me. The Traders I travelled with dismissed our quest. I think they felt I had betrayed them, had led them on a foolish venture that had used up their money and gained them nothing. They stole everything I had and at the next port, they sold me as a slave. My new “owners” took me far to the south and displayed me at markets and crossroads fairs. But then, when my novelty waned, and I began to get sick, they sold me again. I was shipped north, but pirates took our vessel and I changed hands. I was bought as a freak to be displayed to the curious. Somehow, your Chancellor learned of my existence and brought me here. And now, I have come to you.’

The Duke had known nothing of that. He wondered if Ellik had, but he did not look at his Chancellor. The dragon-man held his attention. He spoke persuasively, this ‘dragon-singer’. His voice was rough, the music gone from it, but the cadence and tone of his words would have been convincing to a less susceptible man. The Duke made no response to him. Desperation broke into his voice on his next words and the Duke wondered if he were younger than he appeared.

‘Those who claimed to own me and sold me were liars! I am not a slave. I have never committed any crime to be punished with slavery, nor ever been a citizen of any place where such a punishment is accepted. If you will not free me on my own word that my imprisonment is unjust, then let me send word to my people. They will buy my freedom back from you.’ He coughed again, harder this time, and pain spasmed across his face with each rough exhalation. He barely managed to remain kneeling upright, and when he wiped his mouth, his lips remained wet with mucus. It was a disgusting display.

The Duke regarded him coldly. ‘Now I know your name, but who you are does not matter to me. It is what you are that brings you here. You are part dragon and that is all I care about.’ He considered his options. ‘How long have you been ill?’

‘No. You are wrong. I am not part dragon. I am a man, changed by a dragon. My mother is from Bingtown, but my father was a Chalcedean, Kyle Haven. He was a sea captain. A man just like you.’