Hard time closing out this chapter! I wanted to get to Risthart's meeting, but it wanted to end before I reached that point in time, so after alternately staring at the screen for hours and banging my head against the wall, I cut it off and the next chapter will pick up directly where we leave off here. Savvy?

Dictionary and Pronunciation Guide:

Leíthavän ; Ancient Language ; Mend ; LAY - tha - van

Vakna ; Ancient Language ; Wake ; VOKK - na

Jïtela. Tehgrat bak razhid? ; Urgralgar ; Greetings, brother/sister. Is there an attack? ; Jee -TEY - lah. TEH - grat BACK - Raz - HEED?

Jïtela. Ahgrat Otrag Zhâda. ; Urgralgar ; Greetings, brother/sister. There is a Doom Circle. ; Jee - TEY - lah. AH - grat OH - trag ZAH - da.

Karska ; Urgralgar ; Thanks ; KAR - ska

Nehl Otam ; Urgralgar ; Good luck ; NELL oh - TOM

.0.

Chapter Twenty-Three: Getting There is Half the Fun

Opheila

Just about every bone and muscle in Opheila's body ached, but her wrist absolutely took the cake. It felt loose and weak, and was so uncomfortable that she could hardly move it. And if she kept it still, it stiffened and hurt even more. She checked to see if it had swelled: it hadn't, yet.

At first, Ayel had tried to convince her to heal her injury, the result of an ill-timed sword stroke, but after close inspection he delegated that the pain would "go away by itself in a few minutes" and conceded that she shouldn't bother. However, the longer it throbbed, the closer she got to caving and just casting the spell, because not only did it hurt like hell, but it incapacitated her dominant hand. So it was both painful and inconvenient – not something she was in the mood for today, especially with negotiations right around the corner.

As they walked clear of the sparring ring doors, Opheila halfway reached out to close one and hissed, withdrawing her hand as her wrist overextended again. Ayel reached back and shut it himself, and then studied her with a concerned expression. "It'll just last longer if you baby it like that. You have to keep making fists and rolling it around in the socket."

She pouted. "I know; it was just instinct."

"Yeah," he sighed. "Trust me, I've been there. Really, if you injure your hand in any way, it's guaranteed to mess it up bad, and I hit you pretty hard."

"You think so?" Opheila said sarcastically.

"I-" Ayel put a nervous hand through his hair, embarrassed. "I'm really sorry. I just… can't seem to gauge my strength anymore. I don't know what I thought I was doing."

"Stop apologizing," she admonished him. "That's maybe twelve times in the last few minutes. It's nothing, alright? Don't sweat it."

"Then why'd you act like you wanted me to?"

Opheila rounded on him, frustrated that she had to explain herself. "Because I'm in pain and you're annoying me."

He winced. "…Sorry?"

Oh. My. Gods. "What did I just tell you?" She made an indignant noise in the back of her throat, unable to articulate. "Let's just go catch up with everyone else." She grabbed his hand and prepared to pull him along, as she'd done all day today, but inadvertently used her bad wrist. Mid-maneuver, a jolt of pain stopped her in her tracks, just short of crying out.

It took Ayel a second to process why she'd frozen up. "Jeez, I know I told you to move it around, but don't push it." He turned his hand over so he was holding her wrist gently, and drew his thumb across it, trying to soothe the joint. Under his breath, he said something, too, (probably cursing her carelessness) but Opheila was too distracted to hear him because the pain was slowly melting away.

Astonished, she bent her hand forward experimentally and met no resistance. It was as if she'd never hurt it at all. "Hey, it actually feels better now. I guess you were right about it going away by itself."

"Huh? Oh, yeah." He nodded slowly. "Went away by itself. Never fails. Mm-hm. Let's get going."

As they walked, Opheila's eyes narrowed. Suspicious much? "Wait a minute; did you heal me just now?"

Ayel looked at her, surprised. "Why do you ask?"

She came to a full stop and crossed her arms, fully intending to stare him down until he answered truthfully. "Usually you're not a bad liar, but sometimes when you know I'm onto you, the tips of your ears turn red."

"Let me guess," he gulped. "They're red right now."

"As tomatoes. You healed me."

"…Kind of."

"Kind of?" Opheila swatted him on the arm. "I told you not to spoil me!"

"Yow! Did you really want to go put up with diplomacy in a bad mood, though?" he asked, guarding his stinging shoulder warily.

She huffed. "I would have been fine as soon as it went away."

Ayel scratched the back of his neck thoughtfully. "Well, you know how you thought it was sprained, and I said no way?"

"Yes?"

"I was wrong. It was, and it probably wouldn't have gone away in time."

There was a beat as they crossed the street in silence.

"Damn it, Ayel! Literally our first day of practice and you sprain my wrist?"

"I'll be more careful in the future! Besides, it wasn't entirely my fault when someone was distracting me. On purpose, I might add!"

"It was tactics!" People in the marketplace were starting to stare.

"It was flirting! In the middle of a fight!"

"Who said I wasn't allowed to weaponize it?"

"Well, just because Arya does it to Eragon doesn't mean it's a good idea! Look what happened!"

"Oh, please! I would have beaten you if you hadn't been so clumsy!"

As they turned a corner, Ayel looked back at her. "Clumsy? I wouldn't have missed my strike if you hadn't been so-WHOA!" Suddenly, he lost his balance out of nowhere and fell. There was a resounding crash, along with the sound of splintering wood and several dull impacts on the ground. Opheila watched, awestruck, as a fleet of cabbage heads rolled away from the scene of Ayel lying spread-eagled in the middle of a ruined merchant's booth. They'd both failed to notice it in their path and he was paying the price for it.

"Oww…" he groaned as he tried to sit up, wooden planks shifting underneath him. "Son of a - that's gonna leave a mark…"

A short, thin man in an apron came dashing over to them, clearly in hysterics. "MY CABBAGES!"

At first, Opheila tried to stifle her giggles, but they grew into all-out laughter. "That's…twice today…I've distracted you…and one of us…has gotten hurt!" she said between bursts of merriment.

The owner of the booth was not amused. "My precious wares! My stall! You've – you've utterly destroyed them!"

"Yes, um, sorry about that," Ayel said as he rose. "And if my lovely companion weren't so busy laughing at me for it, we could get it fixed in a jiff here…"

"But my cabbages! My cabbages!" cried the distraught vendor. "I can't sell them now they've been in the street! And half of my stock have rolled away to freedom! I'll never make a profit now!"

Ayel stared at him blankly. "Pick them up and wash them. We'll take care of the stand."

"But I've lost half my-"

"If you say 'my cabbages' one more time, I swear-"

"Ayel," said Opheila, who had finally regained control of herself. "Let's just get this over with."

"Fine." He pivoted and stood next to her. "What's the word?"

She raised a hand. "Leíthavän." The fragments of the stall boards rose off the ground and slowly began to connect with each other. It was a difficult process because she couldn't miss a single piece, and had to account for all the nails, but Ayel joined his mind with hers and caught the few things she missed. One of them would have been as tired as if they'd spent the rest of the day rebuilding the booth, but working together they only got a little more exhausted than they already were. Ayel's shoulders sagged slightly, and Opheila was starting to get sleepy when she ended the spell.

The aproned salesman gazed slack-jawed at the stall, which was good as new.

"So, ah…Rider business to get to. Apologies for the mess. Good day!" Ayel clapped him on the shoulder and quickly made for the next corner, eager to get away.

Opheila followed right behind him, but she could still hear the man wail, "But what about my cabbages?"

"Next time I see him," Ayel growled. "I don't know what I'll do."

She grinned at him. "By the way, were you going to say something about not being clumsy?"

Nimbly dodging the subject, he pointed ahead of them. "Oh look, it's Beq and Astrid. Oi! You two!"

Beq and Astrid were making their way down the road, occasionally stopping to look at what the vendors were selling. They looked an odd couple; Beq was huge compared to her, and where she bustled pleasantly, he trailed after her in a way that made him seem surly even when Opheila couldn't see his expression. When Ayel called out to them, they both turned and Astrid, who had already seen them, hastened to get closer.

"Well, if it isn't the brave knight who slew the mighty cabbage stand!" She said cheerfully, and added to explain, "We heard the crash, and news travels fast."

"We're heading to the Imperial Embassy, since it's almost time. Are you guys ready?" asked Opheila.

In the background, Ayel asked Beq: "Where's Vaas?"

Beq replied: "Dunno."

"Yes, we should be, just about." Astrid checked the clasp on her pouch and smoothed out her skirts. "Beq, we're going."

"Fine."

Ayel closed his eyes. "Hold on. Jeran's asking Ithros where Vaas went." He waited another moment, and then opened them. "Bolvek Enclave, three streets down from the Guild House. It's on our way."

Opheila wrinkled her nose. "Oddly convenient. What is it about today?"

"Huh?"

"Well, hardly anything ever is 'convenient' for us," she said. "Except for that one time when we all ran into each other in the Sand Demon's barrow, and we all know how that went down."

Beq squinted. "See, that's what we call having a bad feeling about this."

"Why should we?" Astrid was skeptical. "I mean, it's just a simple matter of talking with Lord Risthart, the head of the guard, and Opheila's father about how we handle the invasion."

"Yeah, well, you know that thing Opheila always says about people in authority?" Ayel interjected. "I don't like the idea of trying to convince Risthart, who was a fire-spitting secessionist, to trust the Empire…or getting Roque's boss on our side, for that matter."

"Yeah." Opheila frowned. "At least Malchus and Naeve will be there."

"What, so it can be their turn to cause wanton destruction with nothing more than a lovers' spat? The way I see it, they're a liability – and so are the two of you," argued Beq.

"Wait, we're a liability?" Ayel snorted. "Yes, because you're the most cordial and polite person I ever met. Why don't we put you in charge of negotiation, cupcake?"

After a tense moment, during which they glared at each other menacingly, Beq shrugged. "That's fair."

"Anyway," Astrid said hesitantly, "Even if it is practical to plan for the worst, we can at least hope for the best. And if all else should fail, Lord Risthart may see reason when Eragon arrives."

Ayel reached behind his back and shifted Hljödhr in its belt dubiously. "Better to ask forgiveness than permission. I say we just tell it to him straight - he can't ignore us; his city's about to be annihilated. Then no matter what he says, we organize an evacuation, ramp up any defenses we can, and wait until the calvary shows up."

Laughing, Opheila shook her head. "It's a lot more complex and delicate than that. If we don't play our cards right, or if he doesn't share our concerns, the city guard may openly resist us under his orders. If we muster the Mercenary Guild as an assembled force without his permission, we'll be committing an act of treason – gods forbid we institute martial law and ferry the citizens out." She brushed her bangs out of her eyes, something she had to do way too often. "We have to be cordial, we have to be careful, and we have to be patient." Her eyes settled on Ayel and Beq.

"Why do you keep doing that?" Ayel asked, perturbed.

Beq sighed. "She's hinting at us to behave, you daft bastard."

Growling, Ayel wheeled to face him again. "First of all, Roque's the bastard, not me. Second, I may be daft, but at least there's a possibility I'll listen to what she says and act polite."

"And if I keep messing with you, that possibility will gradually dwindle," replied the Surdan blacksmith. "Proving my point that it's way too easy to rile you up."

"Oh my gods; you're insufferable! Both of you, shut up!" Opheila groaned.

Astrid stepped in between the three of them. "If everybody's already on edge, then let's not make each other worse, okay? We're all on the same side here, and we'll do better if we don't keep fighting amongst ourselves."

Ayel jerked a thumb toward Beq. "He started it this time."

"And I finished it," added Opheila, raising her hand.

"Beq, if you're in a playful mood, make sure it's productive, okay?" The dwarven girl smiled sweetly, and suddenly Opheila felt guilty for joining in the argument. She could tell Ayel did too, because he coughed and looked away awkwardly.

Beq sighed again. "Fine." He turned his gaze up. "By the way, we passed the Enclave two buildings ago."

"What?" Opheila made a full turn and led the group back to the door. "Why didn't you say something?"

"Dunno. You all were busy."

"Ughhh." The Bolveks' small embassy was a seemingly ramshackle sort of hut that was one of the largest buildings on the street. It had a formless shape, but lots of spiky ornamentation in the architecture. The woven strips of cloth Vaas had said were called namna were hung on either side of the entrance. She approached the rather sizeable door and yanked it open.

The first thing she saw in the doorway was an Urgal flying at her face. Opheila ducked to the side, and was pulled even further out of the way by Ayel, who had decided she didn't dodge wide enough. He was proved correct, however, when the Urgal continued out of the threshold and knocked the door off its hinges, bringing door and door-breaker crashing to the ground where she had been standing.

Brushing past her, Ayel went to the Urgal, a dam, as she got to her feet. "Jïtela. Tehgrat bak razhid?"

She started, surprised by his greeting in her native language, and responded in kind. "Jïtela. Ahgrat Otrag Zhâda."

"Otrag Zhâda? Oh, that's just great. Karska."

"Nehl otam." The dam re-entered the building, while Ayel took a few steps back toward the group.

"I didn't know you spoke Urgralgar," Opheila said as he approached.

He shrugged. "I picked some up just from watching Vaas and Garzvhog the first day, so he thought he'd teach me after that. And hold the next thought, because we're going to have to go in there and get him."

"It seems kind of… I don't know, violent in there?" Astrid remarked, peeking out from behind Beq.

Ayel chuckled. "It is. 'Otrag Zhâda' means 'Doom Circle'. There's a wrestling match going on in there. Most likely Kull, most likely drunk, and very unlikely that there are only two participants." He leaned in the door, squinted. "Looks like one of them is Vaas."

"No shit." Beq joined him. "And it's that one from earlier… Jornusk or something." He frowned, confused. "Is that one beating him over the head with a raw steak?"

"Looks like there are prickly pears involved, too," observed Opheila. "Maybe we shouldn't go in. Too many cacti for my taste."

Astrid was somewhat reluctant to look. "Cacti?"

"Urgals sure fight rough… unbelievable! Just look at all the blood."

"Blood?"

"This keeps up, he might not be able to go with us. I think his nose is pulp by now."

"Okay, that's it!" Shoving Beq out of the way with unprecedented force, Astrid marched over to the door. "If none of you are going to drag him out of there, then I will! Honestly, what is it about schoolyard fighting that makes people stand around and watch instead of do something about it!" Her face was beet red and her eyes flashed darkly. "He's the oldest, for crying out loud! He needs to set an example!"

"…Um, Astrid?" Beq was completely thrown for a loop.

Is Astrid actually angry? Oh wow, she is! "Ayel, stand back," Opheila warned.

"I'm standing back," he murmured in awe. "And I am amazed."

As soon as Astrid entered the room, the Urgals surrounding their wrestling brethren began to notice and stare at her. None of them, however, moved into her way. A few of them were forced to give her ground, and one unlucky ram backpedaled so quickly that he tripped and fell, breaking a table in half.

All activity ceased as the tiny dwarf reached the edge of the Doom Circle, breathing hard, looking more intimidating than the biggest, most muscled, and most heavily armed Kull. She searched among the wrestlers, who were frozen in shock, until she found her quarry. "VAAS! Just what do you think you're DOING!?"

Vaas, who had lifted Jornusk over his head and was in the midst of pile-driving the smaller Urgal into another Kull he'd pinned under his foot, heard her and gulped. Extricating himself from his fellow combatants numbly, he cringed and looked at her over his shoulder. "I…think…I am obediently following you out of here?"

"You've got that right," she seethed, and pounced.

Opheila saw nothing but the crowd for a moment, as the Urgals tried to re-form the Doom Circle and then immediately stampeded away from the resulting chaos. Then, purely on impulse, she stepped back from the door, and forestalled Ayel with a hand on his chest, to avoid what was coming out.

Astrid strode past the broken door, her mouth set in a thin line. One hand was thrown behind her, holding a giant gray ear. Thankfully, Vaas was still attached to the ear, and he followed, stumbling to keep up.

"Ow ow owowowowow! Astrid, leggo! Damn, you have a strong grip! OWW!"

Once clear of the building, she finally released his ear and faced him, hands on her hips. "What were you thinking? Did you just decide to go drinking and get into a fight when we're waiting for a diplomatic meeting? Well, now look at you! Are you drunk?"

Vaas burped guiltily. "I dunno."

"Are you hurt?" A note of her usual gentleness crept into her voice.

"Yeah, my nose is killin' me… and I think I pulled my hamstring-"

"TOUGH BREAK!" Astrid shrieked suddenly. "This is what you get! And I know how tough you are, so it's not nearly enough! You ought to be ashamed of yourself! I don't care what you do in your free time, especially fighting, because I know that's you. But did it ever occur to you that this might not have been the best choice of what to do with your time when we had to meet in a few hours? When we now have to look, act, and be presentable?"

The Kull winced sheepishly. "Uh…nope?

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Vaas, I need you to work with me here. We're responsible for these three and I feel like I'm the only one who's trying to act my age."

"Hey, I hand out my fair share of pep talks! I'm lookin' out for these guys in battle, too!" He made an imperious gesture and staggered with the motion. "I'm tryina'…jus' as hard as you…" And with that, he pirouetted and fell on his face snoring. The impact very nearly shook the ground.

"Vakna!" Astrid commanded, not giving him even a second.

Vaas's eyes snapped open. "What the – ow! Hangover!"

"And it serves you right," she said disapprovingly. "Can you at least walk on your own and be somewhere approaching responsible now?"

"Argh…the pain…maybe." He hung his head. "Sorry."

Astrid was satisfied. "As well you should be." Then, in a strange sort of transformation, she looked around her, blinked, and rubbed her eyes. "I – I'm sorry, everyone. Did I black out? I feel faint."

"Astrid," Opheila said lightly. "I think you just snapped a little. Why don't you take it easy on the walk to the embassy?" She turned to Beq. "Carry her."

"'Scuse me?"

"You're excused. That wasn't a question. Carry her."

Beq grumbled, but he knelt down and let Astrid climb onto his shoulders. Vaas painstakingly got to his feet behind them and lumbered off in the wrong direction.

"Other way, mate." Ayel turned him around and they began down the street.

Opheila slipped an arm through his so she could whisper in his ear. "That was crazy."

"You're telling me. I had no idea Astrid could snap, but you couldn't pay me enough to make her genuinely angry at me. I wonder if – " He stopped short. "Wait, shouldn't Malchus and Naeve have come out of the House by now? And your father, too?"

How did I miss that? She smacked her forehead. "That's right! They would have caught up with us, which can only mean they're not there. And they can't have gone ahead, because they were waiting for us…" Her mind raced. "They'd have to be down at the docks! Maybe something happened. I know we had a client's ship coming into port today; it must have been late!"

Ayel stared her in the eyes. "You sure?"

"It's the only logical conclusion," Opheila insisted.

He nodded. "Jeran's on his way. I'll get them and catch up with you."

Astrid leaned down to talk to them, something she had never done before. "We can't split up now! We're too close!"

"And if they're late?" he asked pointedly. "Jeran might have trouble carrying us all, but he's faster than any of the other dragons. He and I can make it to the docks and back in time. I don't see any other way of Malchus and them reaching the embassy by low tide."

"Gods, he's speaking sense for once, girls, listen to him!" Beq griped. "Get moving, Ayel. We'll go on ahead."

Ayel squeezed Opheila's hand and ran across the street, where the edge of the third level overlooked the city. Without hesitating, he leapt off with all the grace of a cliff diver and was swept out of the air by a flash of orange-gold scales.

Ayel

Wind whipped him in the face, carrying with it a hint of salt. He could feel Jeran's joy in the flight radiating underneath him, and was so caught up in it he almost forgot to strap his legs to the saddle.

Having fun, are you?

Being cooped up on that mountain is so droll. I'm happy to get out, even if it's short.

…Since when do you use words like 'droll'?

Talking to Thera is having an effect on my vocabulary.

Ah.

Dropping a tier and then swooping to avoid the rooftops, Jeran took them into a steep dive across the ground level, corkscrewing between chimneys and buffeting clotheslines in his wake. Ayel wondered if the people on the streets would be too frightened by the dragon suddenly in their sky.

The harbor was dead ahead, and Ayel could see the ships drifting next to the piers. There were so many of them and so many different shapes and sizes that he had to search for a full moment before he found one that was moving. She said it was coming into port, so let's start there!

After a hasty forward charge and a hairpin turn, Jeran landed and Ayel thumbed the buckles, sliding off his back. His boots crushed wet sand. Ahead of him, the mammoth-bellied cargo ship was being pulled aground by a group of men with ropes and hooks. A booming voice was calling when to pull with a heave-ho motif, and it was then that he recognized Opheila's father.

Hamfast was a big man, taller than Ayel, just like Malchus, and obviously had spent a lot of his life fighting and sailing. His beard was resplendent, streaked with silver, and almost reached his stomach with its thick curls. He had stripped down to his breeches, was dripping wet, and his powerful arms held one of the thick ropes. Malchus was beside him on the same line, also shirtless and pulling in tandem. Seeing them together and how closely they resembled one another brought a strange pang to the pit of Ayel's lungs.

'You look just like your father did at your age,' said the voices of a hundred villagers in his head. People he had grown up with, who had known Cadmon that long, never failed to remind him.

He thought he might resent his father for it, a little.

Malchus spotted him and brought him out of his stupor. "Ayel!" He waved. "Lend a hand, will you? We have to bring her in before the water's gone!"

"I'm not the only one here! Hold on!" Ayel went to some untended ropes and thought, Jeran, I'll find you a barrel of mead if you let me tie these to your legs.

No.

Come on, it'll only take a second to pull it ashore with you helping! Two barrels.

No.

I'll throw in some fireweed.

…Alright, alright. Just don't go thinking I'm some sort of pack mule.

The topaz-colored dragon padded forward and allowed himself to be hitched to the ship. Sailors stopped what they were doing and gaped at the spectacle while Ayel fisted the knots.

Malchus and Hamfast had crossed over. The younger looked up at Jeran. "I thought I'd get used to this after meeting Thera, but I haven't."

"Is it a he or a she?" asked Hamfast.

"Boy," Ayel said, rope between his teeth.

The older man wiped some water from his eyes. "He's a beautiful animal."

Jeran snorted sparks at being called an animal, but didn't argue. I really am.

"He likes you," Ayel noted. "And it'll be easier if you talk straight to him. They can think and speak like us."

"You don't say," Malchus chuckled. "Thera – that's Opheila's, dad – nearly bit my arm off when I asked if she could understand when I spoke to her."

Thera's got a short fuse, said Jeran so all could hear, and both humans jumped. I'm a lot more accommodating. Are you done?

Ayel stood. "Yep. He can't do it by himself, so if you could get your men back on those ropes, we can finish up here."

"OI!" Hamfast bellowed. "WHAT ARE YOU LAYABOUTS STARING AT? GET THE 'ELL TO WORK! HEAVE!" The ground crew scrambled and pulled on their lines, crying, "Heave!"

"HEAVE-HO!"

"Heave-ho!"

Ayel had to admire the man's ability to dominate a crowd. He joined Hamfast and Malchus on their rope and pulled with them as Jeran simply walked up the beach, the ship following behind him slowly.

His muscles burned; he really didn't feel the ship's movement as an individual, but he could tell it was working. Waves crashed farther and farther away, until the ship made a grating noise and Hamfast signaled to stop pulling.

"Many thanks, lad," he said. "Ayel, was it? We didn't get to talking much at dinner." He offered a hand. "Hamfast Eriksson."

"Ayel Cadmonsson."

"Cadmon?" He cocked a brow. "I feel like I've heard that name."

Shaking his head, Ayel said "I'm not from around here. But my family's from a fishing village, so maybe it's just a seaman's intuition."

"Too right!" Hamfast laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "I can see why my son and daughter like you, boy. You're one of us!"

"I'd have asked him to join the Wolf Pack if he wasn't already a Rider," grinned Malchus. "Let's find some shirts. I have a feeling I know why he's here."

Ayel followed them to the harbormaster's shed, where several tunics were laid out to dry. "Yeah, we were headed to the embassy and realized you should have caught up to us. And since you can't very well make it to the third level by the time the meeting starts, we thought it better you come by dragonback."

"How'd you find us?"

"Opheila."

"Thought so," grunted Hamfast. "Very bright, she is. Good judge of character, too." He looked at Ayel askance.

"Wait," Ayel said, becoming nervous. "Wait, what did Malchus tell you?" Malchus, who was belting on a sword, snickered madly. "Malchus, what did you tell him?"

"The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth," answered the giggling mercenary. "Speaking of you and my sister, where's Naeve? She said she'd be close by."

"Right here!" called a voice from the back of the shed. "Hold on, there are a bunch of oars in my way." With a jostle and a clatter, Naeve emerged and kissed Malchus quickly on the cheek. "Sorry I'm late. Oh, hello, Ayel!" She smiled at him. "Let me guess, Opheila had a panic attack because she thinks we're going to be late to Risthart's meeting."

"He's going to fly us up," explained Malchus, who looked a little shell-shocked.

"Yes, um…" Ayel felt heat at the tips of his ears, and Hamfast was still giving him that knowing look which had momentarily transferred to Malchus but was now settled on him alone, and it was distracting. "Well, Jeran's waiting outside, so shall we? I think we can all fit on his back, anyway."

"You think?" asked Naeve nervously.

"Hey, relax!" He threw her a smile of his own. "He may look like an armored killing machine, but he's a real sweetheart…for an armored killing machine, that is." Out the door and onto the sand, Jeran had clawed through the ropes and was sitting placidly on the beach. He belched smoke helpfully.

Naeve was less than thrilled. She hadn't lost her spunk, but she was somewhat reluctant to approach him.

"Just hold out your hand," said Malchus easily, and guided Nave's reach over to the patient dragon. Jeran leaned down and let her palm touch his nose.

"See?" Ayel said amiably. "Perfectly safe – yow!" Jeran unfolded his wing and cracked him on the skull. "What was that for?"

That was for forgetting to untie me, was Jeran's reply. I had to sit there tethered to the ship as if I were just another broken-down, sway-backed nag. I don't enjoy acting like a donkey.

"You got out fine on your own!"

It's the thought that counts.

Luckily, this bit of slapstick seemed to have put Naeve at ease, because she was laughing and petting Jeran's snout. "Okay, you're definitely Ayel's dragon," she admitted. "And your name's Jeran?"

Jeran purred. I like this girl. She scratches nice.

"Hey, don't pamper him any more than necessary," Ayel complained with a long-suffering groan. "He'll go soft."

I will not! Alright, show's over. Get on my back mister my-dragon's-a-baby.

"And take off carefully this time. I don't want a repeat of when Opheila almost fell off."

Hamfast stirred. "She what?"

"Nothing. I'll climb on first, and just line up behind me. Hold onto each other!" A mischievous grin spread across his face. "And just to make sure no-one's sitting on his tail, Naeve, you might have to sit on Malchus's lap."

"Might have to-" Malchus sputtered, then recovered and bowed. "Ayel, your revenge is truly served cold. I must give you my respect."

"Oh, don't act like you don't like it," Naeve scolded.

Still wearing a smirk, Ayel mounted the saddle, then gave Naeve a hand up. She stood until Malchus followed behind her, and then sat on him. He held her waist and she wrapped an arm around Ayel and the spike in front of her. Hamfast plopped down behind them and gripped a spike and his son's collar.

"Everyone set? Jeran, how you feeling?"

Oof, you guys are heavy. I bet I can make it, though. It'll be good practice. He straightened; his wings unfurled. Okay, two-legs! Hold on tight!

They took off with much more force than normal, since it required a lot of momentum to bring the extra weight, but once in the air the flying was gradual and more steady. Jeran couldn't pull off any fancy tricks, and so the trip was quite peaceful. Ayel looked back and saw his passengers looking in wonder at the city below. He faced front, shaking his head at their childlike glee. Of course he could appreciate a view, but to him flying was nothing new and much less exciting when it was this slow.

Whoops; I guess I wasn't thinking about the return trip when I said we were the fastest. Thera or Ithros would definitely have less trouble carrying this many people.

Jeran's voice was defensive. I was faster on the way here! And I'm doing fine.

He only had to take one breather, so perhaps he was performing better than expected. But the trip was short anyway, and before Ayel knew it they were landing – well, more like a controlled crash, really – on the skybridge that led from the fourth level to a distant outcropping on the tail of the Spine's foothills. There stood the Imperial Embassy, the headquarters of the city guard, and, further up the cliffs, Risthart's estate.

The humans dismounted carefully. Up ahead, the manor in particular looked pretentious to Ayel. It couldn't loom, because it was only one story, but it was a sprawling beast atop the mountain and it had the look of a haunted house. I don't know what's worse – ghosts, or an idiotic Lord.

Ghosts, said Jeran. I can eat Risthart, but I can't eat ghosts.

Let's hope he listens to reason. I have a feeling he'll be difficult to persuade.

Taking a deep breath, Ayel started across the skybridge. The doors were rather ominously shut. Four men in armor stood in front, two on either side.

Ayel raised his hand and called out to the guards.