"There," said Blasphet. "Isn't that better?"
Arvelizan turned toward Blasphet once more. "Yes," he whispered.
"Yes what?"
"Yes, Murder God," said Arvelizan.
"Untie him," Blasphet said.
Colobi looked calm as she stood and removed her paste covered glove. She tossed it aside as the other sisters ran forward and cut away Arvelizan's ropes.
"Rise," Blasphet said.
Arvelizan stood, looking more alert than Blasphet had suspected. Save for the yellow spittle dripping from his jaws, he showed no obvious signs of having ingested the powerful drug.
"Now bow before me," said Blasphet.
Arvelizan dropped to all fours, lowering his chin to touch the floor. He spread his wings like giant red carpets to his side as he pressed himself into a pose of unquestioning submission.
"Truly, your works are mighty, O Murder God," said Colobi, staring at the now obedient dragon.
"I won't deny it," said Blasphet. "However, I'm not certain how long our friend here will be useful to us. The paste has dissociative properties; Alvelizan is obedient because his own sense of identity has been suppressed. Alas, the paste rots the brain. He's functional now, but he'll grow increasingly drowsy and clumsy in the coming days. Hopefully, a few days will be all we need. Take him outside and fit him with the harness. Make sure all the sisters on the sky team get a chance to practice riding. I'll guide the kitchen in preparing more paste. I want you to select the stealthiest crew you can assemble. Soon, I'm sending you back into the belly of the beast."
Chapter Twelve:
Traces of Kindness
The valkyries lowered their spears and advanced toward Pet. He'd long suspected he'd meet his end facing a mob of vengeful females, but somehow he hadn't seen it playing out like this.
"Halt!" Shandrazel shouted, his voice booming through the Peace Hall. "Stand down, valkyries!"
The valkyries stopped in their tracks, looking back toward Zorasta. The valkyrie diplomat turned toward the king.
"Bitterwood's sins demand justice," Zorasta said firmly. "He killed your father and your brother. Why would you taint these talks with the presence of a confessed murderer?"
"This man did not kill my father," said Shandrazel. "His whereabouts are well known at the time my father died."
"What of your brother, Bodiel? This man confessed to the crime."
Which was true. Pet had confessed; he'd even bragged about it. He just hadn't actually done it. He'd confessed because the king's army had been slaughtering the people of his home village one by one until they produced Bitterwood. He'd confessed and stopped the slaughter, partly driven by some faint flicker of courage within him, partly driven, he would admit, by a desire to finally impress Jandra. If she hadn't been chiding him for his cowardice all day, he doubted he would have made the decision he did. Acting and deception were Pet's innate talents; it hadn't been that hard to play the role of hero. Still, perhaps now was a good time to come clean? Perhaps he'd calm things by claiming his confession had been a lie. Or would that only make matters worse?
Before he could answer, Shandrazel rose from his golden cushion. He strode toward the center of the room, taking a stand in the middle of the world map. He was silent, as if gathering his thoughts as he looked down at the inlaid gemstones beneath his talons. Everyone grew quiet as they awaited his words.
Shandrazel lifted his head. "My honored guests," he began, in a thoughtful voice. "I've summoned you to this Peace Hall for a noble cause. Four intelligent species share this world." He motioned toward the map beneath him with a sweep of his wings. "This is our common wealth. We hunt in the same forests, we drink from the same rivers. I was born to a family that viewed this land as our domain, and ours alone. Everything on this map was the property of my father; by law, it now belongs to me. The labors of humans, earth-dragons, and even sky-dragons are never truly their own. If a human planted a crop, my father could claim the harvest. If an earth-dragon smelted gold, my father could claim that treasure. Any book a biologian wrote was instantly considered the property of the king's library. This is the history we share."
Pet looked around the room. Everyone stood in rapt attention at Shandrazel's words. Even Zorasta seemed to be attentive.
"As of this day, the book of the old world is closed," said Shandrazel. "We in this room must turn to a new page, and write the history of a reborn world. Let them remember me as the king who brought an end to kings. After these talks, dragons and men will no longer live in a kingdom; we shall all dwell together in a Commonwealth."
Pet noticed that, as Shadrazel spoke, Graxen the Gray gave a nod toward the valkyrie with the teardrop scale on her cheek. The valkrie gave a subtle nod back.
"We have a golden future ahead of us," Shandrazel continued. "Each of us can leave the Peace Hall knowing we've made the world a more just place. To do this, we must free ourselves from old hatreds and grievances. I know that every race in this room has suffered in some way; I don't wish to diminish the injustice that has occurred in the past. As of this moment, however, we must turn our eyes away from our yesterdays and face our tomorrows. To make a world that is truly free, we must release ourselves from the chains of memory.
"Will you do this? Will you join me in drafting the future? Can I count on your hard work and dedication to ensure the birth of this Commonwealth?"
Shandrazel's stirring words echoed through the hall. He'd delivered the speech with a voice that rang with confidence and leadership. Pet applauded enthusiastically, his long-practiced response to any speech a sun-dragon gave. The humans around him clapped in more sullen fashion.
Charkon and his guards slapped their gauntleted claws against their breastplates, then unleashed a single cheering syllable: "WHOOT!" which sounded to Pet like a noise of support.
Even the biologians broke out in scattered applause.
Only the valkyries remained stock-still. Zorasta glowered at Shandrazel with eyes that could have shattered stone.
Pet left the Peace Hall twelve hours later. He was giving serious consideration to finding a fast horse and being far away come dawn. Shandrazel had neutralized the demand for his execution with his speech, but that was about the only positive thing accomplished with the day. Once all the representatives had arrived, the room had quickly fallen into bickering over such trivial details as which part of the room each delegation was to stand in. It wasn't an auspicious start.
While Pet had been the immediate beneficiary of Shandrazel's insistence that the talks wouldn't dwell on the past, Pet found himself disturbed by the logic. Centuries of oppression of humans were to be dismissed as no worse than the murder of a few dragons. As attractive as it was to focus on a better future, Pet couldn't forget the things he'd witnessed in the Free City. But, was it necessary to forget? Or only to forgive? Was one the equal of the other?
Pet climbed the stairs to the roof. He walked to the edge and looked out over the Free City, ghostly in the light of a crescent moon. The frigid night air made his lungs ache; it was crisp and clean, yet somehow it couldn't quite remove the scent of blood and piss and muck that washed through his mind whenever he looked at the wooden palisades surrounding the Free City.
Pet froze as he heard a loud, long sigh behind him. Turning, he saw Graxen the Gray perched on a wall on the opposite side of the roof. The sky-dragon seemed oblivious to Pet as he stared across the open courtyard toward one of the many towers that studded the palace skyline. Graxen almost looked like a statue, immobile against the backdrop of stars. Pet followed his gaze and saw a valkyrie standing at attention on a distant balcony. Suddenly, the Free City no longer loomed in his mind; Pet was ever the romantic. He couldn't turn his attention away from a case of unrequited love.