Dragon Sacrifice (The First Realm Book 3) Read online

  Afterward we found out that when you pump air underground you get another humidity problem. No matter how much you seal the walls they’ll still sweat when warm air hits cold masonry. I sketched a system to draw off the excess moisture but Mina said I didn’t have time for that. Shame.

  We compromised by installing brine waterfalls. The stone panels hung from the walls and the salt water trickled down and filled the rooms with a gentle sound.

  “Excuse me,” I said. “Gotta visit the bathroom.”

  The waterfalls took care of the wet-dog smell. And, I must admit, they were soothing when you didn’t have a full bladder. I took a look at one on my way back. The stone was carved with a pattern of leaves and branches. The water glittered under the spotlight, sunshine piped down from the roof.

  “If you’re done being an artist, Angrod, I’d like to you to try being a prince.”

  I coughed. “We’ll just do the tour like we did time before last. Start with Pithe and continue clockwise around the map. Focus on coastal villages this time.”

  It was hard to be crown prince when there hadn’t been a royal court for a thousand years. Civilization had moved on, which was bad, because I needed to stay ahead of my enemies. How to do that, when the realm worked fine without me? How to restore a monarchy, even a constitutional one, when the council of governors ran things well enough?

  But as Mina pointed out, they didn’t run things to everyone’s satisfaction. Silly me. Many dwarves lived and died without ever seeing the sky. And there were the halflings, the invisible majority. There were even the humans. By elven law, none of these people had any rights.

  There was also the youngest generation of elves, my age group. The few, the frustrated, the future. We hated how our elders denied us real responsibility. We resented how they looked down on our lack of experience. Just because most of us were barely in our second century…

  It turned out there was a lot that a budding politician could do, if he was willing to start at the bottom. As Mina put it, where else could you gather compost for your mushroom farm?

  “I love your metaphors,” I said.

  “I suppose you would call it starting from the grass roots.”

  “No, no, I like your wording better. When do we start spreading bullshit?”

  Heronimo and Cruix joined us as we were going over the details. The dragon was in elf form. His hair was silver while mine was wavy and black. Otherwise we could have been twins. If Cruix hadn’t mastered that hair-colouring spell early on, we’d be identical.

  His ability to shapeshift was a lucky accident. We’d focused on survival, on creating a viable body so Cruix wouldn’t have to share mine. There hadn’t been time for anything fancy. As a result, Cruix could choose to be a dragon or an elf.

  Can I shapeshift too? In theory, yes, but I’ve never tried. Changing your body that drastically is like giving birth, or turning inside-out starting with your arsehole. The pain is horrendous, let me tell you, worse than gnawing off your own arm. I don’t know how Cruix does it. Anyway, I don’t have to change shape to fit in, so I won’t be turning into a dragon in the foreseeable future.

  Cruix elbowed Heronimo. “Look at him, deep in thought,” Cruix said. “Either that or he’s constipated.”

  “Do you need more fibre, Angrod?” Heronimo asked. “Shall I brew some Northlands tea?”

  “Gods, no,” I said. “Not a fan of the lichen.”

  “You sure? It’ll put hair on your chest.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  “What’re you afraid of?” Meerwen asked. She was coming down the stairs.

  “Meerwen!” I said. “I mean, it’s good to see you.”

  I got up to embrace her and she cocked her head. “You’re limping,” she said.

  “I was just training with Heronimo.” I hobbled back to my chair.

  “You both take sparring too far. What did they break this time?”

  Mina didn’t look up. “A landscape by kirlianist painter Meleth Lanraion. The only known portrait of General Angus Veneanar. Two Lavin III chairs and one table shaped out of a living tree. One full suit of armour in the Iminyan style. Numerous antique weapons of considerable craftsmanship. Plus the fountain in the courtyard. All damaged and diminished in value.”

  “Pfft,” I said. “It’s just old stuff. The castle is full of it. I’d have unloaded it years go—”

  “Your Uncle and Auntie were shocked when you said you were going to have a ‘dungeon sale’ and invite the whole city,” Heronimo said. “Auntie Marilla was in tears.”

  “Haha, I remember,” Cruix said. “They offered to take a pay cut because they thought you needed money. To spare you the humiliation of auctioning off the heirlooms, they were even going to hand over their savings.”

  I grimaced. I loved those two old servants. They’d practically raised me. “I didn’t expect them to take it so badly.”

  Cruix snickered. “Uncle Erumaren said: No Lord Veneanar has ever needed to fall upon charity. To sell the family treasures for so little of their true worth…”

  I threw up my hands. “I was just trying to lighten up the place! It’s like living in a military museum!”

  “It’s nice that there’s so much history here,” Meerwen said. “Not many heirlooms in my father’s house.”

  Cruix grinned. “I wouldn’t expect there to be, considering—” I gave him a look. “I mean, what brings you here, Angrod’s girlfriend?”

  “The Royal Guard was on a training exercise nearby. I’m here on leave.”

  “Couldn’t get enough of me,” I said, leaning back on my hands.

  She poked me in the belly. “Getting a little full of yourself, aren’t we? But it’s good to see you guys.”

  Cruix pointed at himself. Raised his eyebrows.

  “Even you, Cruix,” Meerwen said. “How’s it going, Mina? What have you been doing?”

  Mina had been sinking closer and closer to her desk. Her chin was resting on it now and her hands were tented over her head. “I can tell you what I’m not doing. How am I supposed to work when all of you are stinking up the air?”

  “I showered,” Heronimo said.

  Chapter 3

  We decided to eat out. Call it a double date, plus Cruix. I’ve tried to play matchmaker but it’s never worked out.

  “For the hundredth time, I ask you. Why won’t you get a girlfriend?”

  “And for the hundredth time, I answer. I’m just not attracted to elven women.”

  “It doesn’t have to be elves. How about humans, or halflings, or dwarves?”

  We were walking through the Merchant Quarter, on the way to Restaurant Row. There were a lot of caprans on the streets. The goat-people were strolling, shopping, even operating a few of the stalls.

  “Or caprans?” I asked. “What about caprans?”

  Cruix made a face. “Just because I’m wearing an elf body, that doesn’t mean I’m about to stick it in the first woman to show willing. I’m not you.”

  “Ho ho ho,” Heronimo said. “He’s got you there.”

  “You’re a bit of a slut, Angrod,” Meerwen said. “I don’t know why I date you.”

  “I’m low-maintenance,” I said. “You can take cases, go on manoeuvres, live in another city, and I’ll still be here when you come back.”

  “There’s that,” she said. “Somehow I don’t think you get very lonely.”

  “I do, I do!” I said. “I need all these women to console me.”

  “Angrod! Prince Angrod!”

  “And here’s one now,” Mina said.

  A bouncy halfling girl bounced into view. She carried a baby in her arms. “Prince Angrod! I’m so glad to see you! I’ve got something to show you.”

  “Eh. Heh,” I said. “Haven’t seen you in a while, Meg.”

  “Almost a year, in fact. Notice anything new?”

  Somebody snickered. Cruix and Heronimo were nudging each other. Mina was trying not to smile. Meerwen had the strangest e
xpression.

  “… You’re wearing your hair short?” I said.

  The girl laughed. “Such a jokey, my prince. I’d like to introduce my baby son.”

  “How old is he?” Meerwen asked.

  “Three months.”

  “Really?” Meerwen said. “That recently?”

  “Little Angrod is big for his age, isn’t he?”

  “You… named him… after me?” I said. Meerwen’s stare was like daggers.

  The new mother laughed. “Oh, no, my husband did. Isn’t that right, Cuthbert?”

  “That’s right,” Cuthbert said. The tall capran had just stepped out of his toy shop. “Your Majesty, it’s good to see you.”

  His hand was smeared with paint. I shook it anyway. “Cuthbert. Congratulations on starting a family.”

  He beamed. “I’m a lucky man. Couldn’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

  I shrugged. “It was nothing. And how’s business?”

  I didn’t think it was possible for him to smile any wider, but he did. “It’s great. I’ve always wanted to be a toymaker, and now I am.”

  We looked at Meg, who was showing off her son to the girls. Baby Angrod had his face uncovered now, you could see the stubby horns growing out of his little head.

  “It is good to be a toymaker,” Cuthbert said, patting his apron. “It is good to make things that bring joy to children.”

  I’d met him when I was in the Silver World. He’d been a member of the palace garrison and had worked in the armoury making bows. He’d been a master bowyer and I’d looked forward to him opening an archery shop in Corinthe. Seeing him now, though, I knew he’d made the right choice.

  “There weren’t many children back home, were there?” I asked. “How is the capran community?”

  “Self-sustaining, thanks to you. I do believe we would survive as a race were the portals to close.”

  “That’s good. How did you meet Meg?”

  “I was looking for a supplier of fish glue when I met her. She was selling clams out of a cart.”

  “Was she wearing the dress?” I asked.

  “Oh yes,” he said. “It wonderful to watch. We were married by the end of the month.”

  Meg looked at us and grinned. She was a lovely girl and she radiated the kind of satisfaction I’d rarely seen in my fellow elves. She had her baby and she had her man. All was well.

  “Well,” I said, “I won’t keep you any longer. Don’t be a stranger if you’re ever around Veneanar Castle.”

  The gang and I resumed walking. We rounded a corner and I went, “Whew! That was close.”

  “Haha, that was almost your baby,” Heronimo said.

  “Your beautiful baby boy,” Cruix said.

  “And, hah, that was almost your wife,” Heronimo said.

  “Your loving wife,” Cruix said.

  Heronimo turned to him. “Are we kidding Angrod or making him feel bad?”

  The dragon shrugged. “I don’t hate babies. And if Angrod were to have one, it would be like I had a nephew. That’s not so terrible.”

  “If you like babies so much, why don’t you have one of your own?” I asked. “I’m sure we could find you a nice halfling girl.”

  He shivered.

  “Come on, Cruix. That’s a copy of my body you’re wearing. And you know I like the ladies!”

  “It’s too much like bestiality.”

  “It’s been thirty-one years! The blue balls.”

  “Change the subject, Angrod. Just… change it.”

  “Fine. We’re here anyway.”

  “Biggo’s All-Day Breakfast?” Meerwen said. “I didn’t know you had one here.

  “I kinda invited them over,” I said. “Gave them a good deal on their lease. Why should Drystone have the only one?”

  Everything was big. The smallest table seated four, and not elbow-to-elbow either. Other tables could easily accommodate a family of eight. A halfling family, in other words. The walls were red brick and the chandeliers were wagon wheels.

  “Hello, table for six?” I told the hostess. To my friends I said, “I invited Dagonet over.”

  “Why?” Cruix asked.

  “Well, I consider you all family.” We were seated now.

  “Oh, yecch,” he said. “Next you’ll be saying we’re brothers or something. We just live together, all right?”

  “No, I see his point,” Meerwen said. “We’re all members of his household. Why shouldn’t he treat us like family?”

  “Where are Auntie Marilla and Uncle Erumaren?” Heronimo wondered.

  “They believe upstairs people shouldn’t mix with downstairs people.” I threw up my hands.

  “There’s no budging them. They practically raised me but they insist on keeping to themselves.”

  “They’re old,” Mina said. “You don’t see elves with wrinkles every day.”

  “Almost never, really,” Dagonet said. She was sitting beside me.

  “Dagonet, don’t do that!” I said.

  You’d think my assistant would be easier to spot. She’s a redhead, with freckles on her nose and cheeks. Also her cleavage. She defies the stereotype by fading into the background.

  “Surely you noticed me come in?” she asked. “I passed right in front of you.”

  “We’ve talked about this,” I said. “Make more noise! Every time you startle me you take years off my life.”

  She smiled.

  “Angrod, what’s this for?” Heronimo asked. He pointed at the empty platter in the centre of the table.

  “It’s for the snapdragon,” I said. A waiter came by with a bowl of raisins and a glass of rum.

  “Someone order an aperitif?” Mina wondered, but then the waiter sprinkled the raisins into the platter and poured in the rum.

  “Do the honours?” Meerwen asked. I made a coin-flipping motion and flicked a tiny ball of fire into the platter. (Foom!)

  “The game is to snatch the raisins and eat them,” I said.

  “Not much of a game,” Cruix said. “But then, fire makes everything better.”

  I ordered while everyone gave it a try. Nothing fancy on the menu—halflings weren’t into things like butterfly shadows or edible balloons. But they did know how to cook things that stuck to your ribs and sent feel-good signals to your head.

  “Ow!” Mina said. She’d jerked her hand from the platter, spilling drops of burning rum. “Shit, ow!”

  “I see you have years of practice,” Cruix said.

  “It’s fucking hot,” Mina said. She tried her hand again. “Fucking hell!”

  “Watch me,” I said. “I won’t use my silver hand.” I plucked a burning raisin and ate it. “When they’re slightly singed they start to get all crispy.”