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“I think they’ve wronged you worse than you can imagine, Tyr. Certainly one heir can be lost to accident. Twice might be a coincidence. But three times? That’s the work of an enemy.”

“I’ll question Imfamnia again in the presence of her mother. Ibidio thought highly of NiVom, and a mother can sometimes get the truth out of the toughest dragon.”

“Don’t tell your mate or SiDrakkon any of this, Tyr, until you’ve learned the truth.”

“You’re a sly one, RuGaard.”

“You must know I have no ambitions, Tyr. I speak only on behalf of my friend.”

“If all this comes to pass you’ll move several places up in the line. Perhaps I should be suspicious of you.”

“I’m content to go back to Anaea for the rest of my years, Tyr. Get to the truth of this matter with NiVom. You might ask some questions about the others, as well. I don’t know enough about those dragons.”

“I will ask some questions. Starting with Tighlia.”

“Tyr, no. Avoid her. Don’t let her influence you.”

“You’ve not been mated yet, have you? When you’re older you’ll understand these things. I can handle my own mate, dragon. Don’t worry; your name will not pass my lips or waft across in thought.”

“Go to Ibidio first, Tyr. I beg you.”

“I’m not without resources, RuGaard. Where can I contact you?”

“I’ll let the griffaran know where I am. I won’t be far from these rocks.”

“RuGaard, thank you for coming to me with this. Bravely done, if it’s the truth. If this is all some scheme of your own…well, bravely done for that, too. I’ll forgive you personally. But as Tyr, matters will go hard with you.”

“I ask only that you try to find the truth, your honor.”

The Tyr raised his wings, nodded to the griffaran escort, and dropped off the towering rock. He caught an air current and disappeared into shadow, entering the tunnel through which the Copper had been carried years ago.

Even the fresh fish the griffaran brought him soured in his mouth. He picked at rocks with his claws and wondered about Nilrasha. Finally the Copper could sleep, though it was a fitful one. His mouth had gone dry from the tension.

Yarrick himself woke him the next day with news that the glorious Tyr was dead.

Chapter 22

The Copper stood before the massive Black Rock in the center of the Lavadome; it was dozens of dragonlengths high, heavy and black and forbidding.

He’d always thought it looked everlasting, a guarantee of dragonkind’s survival. Now it seemed a marker in a vast, empty, crystal-topped tomb.

He could return to the Uphold and act as though nothing had happened. Perhaps he’d just been escorting the final bounty of the year’s harvest to the Lavadome, ensuring its prompt arrival intact.

In the end, he decided he had to play his part in the tragedy, for good or ill. He walked up the path leading to the lower caves, the smaller one the Drakwatch used. There were dragons idling about the more elaborate main entrance, waiting for news, and more clustered at the servants’ door, pestering thralls running errands.

The Rock seemed deadly quiet, as though expecting another outburst of battle. The Copper took the most familiar path, to his old residence in the trainee wing, and saw a good deal of water on the floor. They were fixing the water feed on the upper levels again.

The young drakes were sitting around the pooled water, chatting in low voices. “A visitor,” one said.

NeStirrath stuck his aging, tangle-horned head out of his cavern. “That’s no visitor; that’s one of the Drakwatch, but so long away he’s become a stranger. How are you, Rug—RuGaard. Wings up and out at last, I see!”

“Out, anyway. I’ve not managed up yet.”

“You have heard the news, I expect.”

“Yes. The Tyr is dead. What do you know of it?”

“It happened in his mate’s chambers. I had only a quick word with NoSohoth; he could tell me no more. He advised me to get back down here and ready the Drakwatch, saying those were SiDrakkon’s orders. So here I sit, awaiting further orders.”

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