‘Relshaz has little or no interest in magic’ Mellitha chuckled. ‘And the games around the magistracies here make the scrambling for the high seats on Hadrumal’s Council look very tame.’
‘I’ve no doubt,’ Velindre said distantly.
‘I came to see if Otrick or anyone else had ever let you consider opportunities beyond Hadrumal for a woman of your intelligence and affinity.’ Mellitha looked out of the window at the serene square. ‘I’ve lived more than half my life here. I’ve made a handsome fortune, satisfied my own desires as I’ve seen fit and raised four happy, healthy children, all grown and gone now, leading their own lives as they see fit, mageborn or not.’
‘I don’t think I’m cut out to wheedle contracts to gather taxes out of a council of venal magistrates.’ Velindre smoothed her skirts as she returned to her seat.
No, I don’t think you are.’ Mellitha rested her chin in her hand, studying Velindre. ‘I think you intended to head back to Hadrumal with some startling discovery spun from Otrick’s wilder speculations, to make Planir and all the rest regret not raising you to Cloud Mistress. I think you’ve stumbled on something you didn’t expect. You’re certainly hiding from someone. Or should that be everyone? Why do you think I’ve gone to all this trouble of visiting you in person? Because I couldn’t raise you through any kind of spell, and even if I don’t play Hadrumal’s games, you can rest assured there’s no one there who’s my equal in scrying.’ Velindre couldn’t help her glance towards the closed door of her bedchamber, where the mirror was shrouded with a heavy shawl and both ewer and basin stood dry and empty.
‘You’re not looking well, Velindre,’ Mellitha continued after a few moments’ tense silence. ‘You were always thin, but now you look positively gaunt and that’s not flattering for a woman past the first flush of youth.’ Velindre still said nothing.
Mellitha stood up and fished in the mesh purse hanging from the plaited silk girdling her well-cut gown. ‘Come and see me if you feel like confiding in me. I’ll tell my servants I’ll always be at home to you.’ She laid a folded and sealed piece of deckle-edged paper on the wine table beside her chair. ‘Or just come to dinner, if you don’t want to talk.’ She gathered up her wrap and fan as she sailed blithely to the door. ‘I’ll give you one piece of advice to be going on with. I used to tell my four children, if you skin your knee, don’t pick at the grazes. It’ll take all the longer to heal. The same is true of wounded pride.’
‘If I talk to you . . Velindre forced the words out. ‘Will you keep my confidences?’
‘Yes.’ Mellitha stood motionless, one hand on the door handle. ‘I told you, I don’t play Hadrumal’s games.’
‘I have to talk to someone.’ Now that she had started, Velindre regretted it. At the same time, she wondered if she would be able to stop. ‘To someone mageborn, someone who might just possibly understand. Or I’ll go mad.’
‘We wouldn’t want that, my dear.’ Mellitha walked swiftly back to her chair.
‘Did you ever know Azazir?’ Velindre stared out of the window at the alluring blue sky. ‘Only by reputation,’ said Mellitha cautiously. ‘They say he’s mad.’
‘That doesn’t equal the half of it.’ Velindre shivered even though she was sweating again. ‘He’s gone beyond madness. He’s lost himself utterly in his element.’
‘It happens.’ Mellitha’s voice was cold. ‘I take it you’ve seen him?’
Velindre nodded jerkily.
‘Do you think you might be going down the same path?’ Mellitha asked softly.
Startled, Velindre looked at her. ‘No.’
‘Good.’ Mellitha’s grey eyes were steely. ‘Because that’s not something I could keep from Hadrumal. Anything less than that. . .’ She shrugged. ‘That’s no business of anyone else’s.’
Not entirely reassured, Velindre looked back out of the window. ‘Azazir knew how to summon dragons, did you know that?’
‘Him and Otrick both.’ Mellitha nodded. ‘Is that what you’re planning on astounding the Council with?’
‘I had some such notion,’ Velindre admitted, running a shaking hand over her mercilessly braided hair. ‘Have you any idea how they do it?’
Mellitha shook her head. ‘I was never that curious to raise some creature that might bite my head off.’
‘I know how,’ Velindre said simply ‘And now I wish I didn’t. Only I went to find out to help someone else. If I don’t tell him, he’ll most likely die as a result. But he could well end up dead if I do.’ The words rasped in her dry throat
Mellitha rose and fetched them both a glass of wine. Who are we talking about?’
‘Dev.’ Velindre sipped at the wine and felt it strengthen her. Did you ever meet him?’
‘More than once.’ Mellitha chuckled. ‘He’s another one who was never born for Hadrumal, never mind his wizardry.’
‘He’s down in the far south of the Archipelago.’Velindre swallowed another mouthful of wine. ‘He’s been helping a warlord fight some wild wizards who appeared out of the southern ocean last year. He thought they were all dead but this year a dragon’s appeared, so presumably there’s at least one left’
‘Or one’s recently arrived from wherever the first contingent came from?’ Mellitha raised her perfectly shaped eyebrows.
‘Either way, Dev wanted to know how to summon a dragon of his own.’ Velindre fell silent again. ‘To attack the interloper?’ Mellitha prompted. ‘Like those old tales of the dragon hunters around the Cape of
Winds?’
‘He has no idea what he’s asking for.’ Velindre drained her glass.
‘Fire to fight fire, presumably.’ Mellitha looked intently at her.
‘Literally, as it happens.’ Velindre found she couldn’t smile at the jest. ‘Which would give him two things,’ she continued with brisk dispassion. ‘Firstly, access to far more power than he could ever imagine, and I don’t know how well you know Dev, but I certainly wouldn’t trust him with that. He could easily find himself slipping down the same road to Azazir’s obsession. Because a dragon’s aura is fascinating beyond belief, Mellitha. You can see all the things that have always been just beyond the reach of your wizardry and you think you could finally grasp them if you just reached out a little further. And when you find you can’t, you tell yourself it doesn’t matter because you’ll manage to do it next time and anyway, the power you’re feeling now is the purest and sweetest you’ve ever known.’
Her words slowed. ‘Have you ever had a lover who brought you such bliss that all you wanted was to feel his hands on you, that every moment you were apart felt wasted, even when you were well past the first flush of passion?’
‘Just the once,’ Mellitha said dryly.
Velindre looked at her. ‘And you realised eventually that however good the loving, there is more to life than ecstasy in bed?’
‘Eventually.’ Mellitha dimpled, her youth momentarily returning in her eyes. ‘Then I decided the best trick was having the ecstasy and the rest to go with it.’
‘Absolutely.’ Velindre laughed despite herself. ‘And once you’ve had that, you’re not inclined to settle for anything less thereafter.’
‘Quite.’ Mellitha looked at her quizzically. ‘But what has your life with Otrick or mine with whoever else got to do with dragons?’
Velindre’s smile faded. ‘It’s hard to think of anything more desirable than the elemental thrill of a dragon’s aura. You spend your days thinking of all the reasons why you should summon one up—for the good of wizardry, for the better education of the mundane populace. To drive untamed wizardry out of the southern Archipelago.’
‘And Dev did always have a taste for white brandy and dream smokes,’ said Mellitha thoughtfully. You said there was a second thing he’d gain, besides a dangerous new obsession.’
‘He’d get a dragon.’ Velindre pressed her hands to her face as she struggled for words. ‘I don’t mean the magical aura, I mean the beast itself. It’s pure element, Mellitha, shaped and bound with magecraft, and it’s an innocent. Yes, it’s dangerous beyond reason, and I certainly don’t trust Dev with something like that to do his bidding—always assuming he could bend it to his will—but there’s no malice in it. It’s a creature of instinct and all its instincts are mageborn. It revolts me, the thought of creating such a creature to fight like a pit dog, suffering pain and death, never even knowing why it’s there. It’s a perversion of all that’s good and honourable in magecraft,’ she concluded bitterly. ‘And I’m talking like some dewy-eyed fool of an apprentice, I know, and I should know better.’