Author's Note: This chapter is to Mistress, for guessing that Matrix was a) a Lethrblaka or b) something I made up, and for being wrong. I've finally managed to do something she didn't foresee! Hearts to Mistress, Kittie

You smell of humans.

Matrix's nostrils flared, her maroon scales shimmering magically. Her ivory claws dug deep into the sand as she flexed them, watching the two dragons with eyes like the purest of gold.

Neither spoke. They stared back at her, struck dumb.

Your blood marks you as a Rider's mount as clearly as your heart brands the hand of the one you are bound to, she said.

They didn't respond. Long minutes stretched past.

A dragon, the one said finally. You are a dragon.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Rune curled between Súndavar and Eragon, her hair covering her face. The Shade baby was tucked against her, still wrapped in the bloodstained cloak. The two Riders were slumped against their chains, sleeping softly.

Shay and Vanir watched them in silence. Shay leaned her head against Vanir's shoulder. He kissed her forehead, eyes softer than they had ever been.

We'll get out of this somehow, he told her. Things will get better when we reach Dras-Leona.

How? she asked. We'll just be sold and separated.

Not even spelled chains will stop me from chasing you, Vanir said stubbornly. I've just – finally – found you. I won't lose you again.

Rune muttered something in her sleep, pulling the baby closer.

He'll need a name, Shay mused, trying to get her mind away from her troubles.

Once you name it, it becomes a person, Vanir groaned. The Shade's child should remain nameless.

You think of Súndavar as a person, Shay accused. Why is he any different?

Súndavar is a Rider, Vanir explained grumpily, scooting away from her. It is different for him.

No it isn't. The baby has done nothing wrong.

It will.

You don't know that. He's innocent, Vanir. Can't you just get over your prejudice and act civil?

Vanir looked at her haughtily. You are my lover, not my conscience, he said. Mind your business and we can continue to enjoy what we do. I'll feel how I wish on the matter of the Shade's son.

Shay hit him, only half playfully, and turned away. You're impossible.

I do try, Everwood.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Tawnyclaw stretched his broken wing, shivering in excitement. His angry eyes surveyed the slavers from where he perched on top of the children's cart.

"Look, it's the witch girl's bird!" cried one of the slavers, catching sight of him. He drew an arrow.

"Two crowns says you miss it," one bet as the man notched the arrow into his bow.

The man let the arrow fly. Tawnyclaw didn't flinch as it streaked by harmlessly, missing his wing by inches.

"Told you you couldn't hit it!" the slaver laughed. "Everyone knows you're a useless shot."

"Do better!" challenged the original slaver, scowling.

The other man shrugged, notching his own arrow to his bow. Tawnyclaw sidestepped the arrow easily.

"It's spelled, that's what it is," the man grumbled. "Nothing can hit that bird."

Alanna watched from inside the cart, trying to catch the hawk's eye. She waved at him.

Tawnyclaw down at her, cocking his head. He fell through the bars, dropping like a stone, before letting the air catch his good wing at the last moment.

"Can you send Rune a message for me?" Alanna asked him.

Tawnyclaw eyed her, before giving a hawk nod, one quick, sharp duck of his head.

"Tell her I heard the Slavers talking. We'll reach Dras-Leona by morrow's dawn."

Without responding, Tawnyclaw hopped into Alanna's arm. She lifted him up through the bars.

Bracing himself, Tawnyclaw stretched his broken wing out, feeling the light bones grind against one another. He measured the distance between the carts, the wind, waiting for exactly the right—

Now! Jumping from his perch, the wounded hawk swooped to the other cart in a single flap of his wings. The injured one pulled painfully, but the tightness was muscle, not bone.

He landed near Rune, who was cradling the Shade baby in her arms. She looked up at him.

Slavers talk. City. Morning.

Rune frowned. The slavers say…

City! Dawn!

We'll get to Dras-Leona by dawn?

Dawn of morrow! Day next!

Rune nodded, and turned to the others. "Tawnyclaw says we'll get to Dras-Leona by tomorrow morning," she said.

Tarn frowned softly. "I've seen amazing things, child. But your speaking bird is the first that I've been unable to comprehend. Ask him if there's other news."

Rune relayed the message, and Tawnyclaw shook his head, before shrugging.

"Not that he's heard. He'll keep an eye out."

"Good," Tarn said. "Now. It's time we all get to sleep. Tomorrow is going to be rough."

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Mistress Keladry smiled softly to herself, lifting her skirts daintily. Beside her, Marcus Tabor stared out at Helgrind.

A nasty man devoted to a nasty religion, she thought spitefully, fingering her thick, sand colored braid.

He smiled at her, the action making wrinkles in his fatty face. She smiled delicately back, inwardly screaming in revulsion.

"Keorg and Hane will be here soon, my sweet," he told her. "You'll have all the slaves you desire. Pity your others caught fever."

She cast her eyes down, resisting a grin. They didn't, she laughed. Oh, they didn't, you horrible, clueless man.

"Thank you, master. You truly are kind to me."

"Not at all," he said, his hand reaching around her back. "You're my mistress."

"But you have so many other lovers," she said. "Yet you choose me for your kindness. You're truly wonderful."

He kissed her tenderly, and she had to clench her jaw to keep from pulling away.

For Ajihad, she said. Just do it for Ajihad.

"Come, sweet," Tabor bid her. "You shouldn't be in the sun."

"Yes, master," she purred. Trying to keep from screaming, she followed him indoors.