“We’ll land on the up end,” Fespanarax called. “I feel like I deserve a walk across the bridge, after all these years.”
They started in from on high and circled slowly down, giving those on the ground plenty of time to know a dragon was coming in. Ileth’s flight training didn’t go so far as to know how to signal recently released prisoner returning, if such a thing existed, but she did know how to wave a stiff arm down, the signal to other dragoneers that she was about to land.
Fespanarax glided and alighted well on the road just outside the Pillar Rocks. A greeting party assembled.
“He’s huge. What dragon is that?” an apprentice asked. It was good to see his white sash again. Even the air felt familiar.
“What do those streamers mean, I wonder,” another voice in the crowd asked.
“Fespanarax. Has to be,” said an older Guard with a sergeant’s decorated pike. “I’d know that craggy head, never mind the size. Finally back from the Baronies.”
“This is news,” another Guard said. The older one gestured at one of the novices, and he ran off toward the Masters’ Hall.
“Who’s that on him?” asked a wingman who’d emerged from the quarters in the wall to see the arrival.
She recognized the speaker as Sideburns from the party. His facial hair was thicker now and he’d put on some height. “I know her. It’s Vor Claymass’s little piece of novice from the party, the one who got tossed into the dancers.”
“Oh, yes, Ileth, slayer of Gorgantern. I do remember her,” the older Guard said.
“Ever seen a walk across the bridge?” Fespanarax asked.
“No,” Ileth said. “What is that?”
“Oh, yes. You’re young, aren’t you? I forget. The armistice. Well, you walk before me. If we had any trophies, you’d carry them. How would you represent surviving years’ worth of the Baron’s discourse and courtesies with a trophy?”
“A fussy r-rooster?”
“Well done, Ileth. You’re developing a true dragon wit. I’d say peacock, but I don’t imagine you’ve seen those. Good eating. Too bad you’ll return to your dull humans. Well, as there are no roosters about, we shall proceed bearing only honor.”
Fespanarax raised his head. “All right, you scoundrels, you have returning heroes here. A Galantine Lady, no less. Line the Long Bridge and show some leg running.”
Novices and apprentices were duly dispatched. Ileth accepted a bucket of water and let Fespanarax drain it. She was thirsty, but she could wait. She’d had a Galantine water bottle for the trip.
“What’s in here?” Ileth asked, tapping the case Fespanarax bore.
“Grooming tools that belonged to me and some of my odds and ends. There are some precious metals so I put them under metal seal. I can break it easily enough.”
“I thought it might be silver.”
“Too little, alas. There’s some in the leather post-case on the other side. But you have found me out all the same. I’m not so modern a dragon that I don’t keep a bit of a hoard. For emergencies.”
“Perhaps I can—can add to it, Fespanarax. I promised you my fortune. Here it is.” Ileth pulled out her bag of silver nuggets, carefully saved over a year. Though she’d promised the silver to him, even if she hadn’t, she would have given it away in any case. The memories of that last flight would prevent her from ever spending the nuggets on herself.
“Not much of a fortune, girl.”
“I grew up in a lodge. This is rich to me,” Ileth said.
“I will take it. What’s more, I will thank you. It’s the last silver I’ll see for a while in this hole.”
They made for the bridge in the style Fespanarax ordered, her walking ahead, carrying her stout bag and its nuggets and the odd Galantine coin or two. It was too heavy to hold up for long, so she ended up cradling it in her arms.
It wasn’t much of a procession toward the Long Bridge, though a few came out at the news. Dun Huss and the Borderlander were there, uniforms hastily thrown on and hats clamping down uncombed hair. Dun Huss, as she passed, took one of the streamers hanging from Fespanarax’s wings. He walked along, looking at the red shield design with the gold stripe across it.
“Truly, Ileth?” he said, smiling. “Gentlemen, we are being visited by a Galantine significant. Straighten up that line, you all! You’re not a bunch of housewives at a laundry fountain. Toe it!”
The last was barked with such an air of authority that those few gathering on the bridge fell into ranks lining it to either side. Those among them who were in Guard uniform presented arms. It wasn’t much of a line on either side, but then she wasn’t much of a dragoneer.
“Eyes on Fespanarax of the Serpentine, aaaaaaaand—render honors!” Dun Huss said over the wind.
“There was a time the whole Serpentine would turn out,” Fespanarax grumbled. “I suppose they didn’t know I was coming.”
There was some trouble finding a spot for a dragon of Fespanarax’s size and importance so late in the Beehive. In the end, they left him in the Chamber with kitchen staff running for their wheeled troughs to feed him. Ileth happily turned his care over to the grooms. She left her bag of nuggets atop Fespanarax’s sealed chest.
It was very late. Or perhaps very early. The only two people still awake (or already up) in the Dancers’ Quarter were Ottavia and Preen. Preen was reading, Ottavia worked at her desk, and one of the music boxes played. Preen had tea. Maybe it was morning. She hoped she wouldn’t be ordered to drill and fatigue.
They both looked some mix of delighted and astonished when they recognized her, standing in her flying gear, grown a bit, hair its usual chopped mess, looking forward to a wash.
“By my mother’s blood, it’s Ileth!” Ottavia said, standing. “Back at last. Have you grown? You have grown!”
“Vii and Santeel have missed you, Ileth. It’s like having two flints with no steel,” Preen said. “Can I get you a tea? We have a great quantity of candied almonds, too. Have as many as you want. They might perk you up. Zusya has a suitor, or someone who wants to be a suitor, that wingman with the big sideburns who used to hang about with Peak, Pasfa Sleng. She told him she could eat them every day, and, well, it’s been raining almonds ever since.”
“Tea would be lovely,” Ileth said.
She took her tea, washed up her most noisome crevices, and collapsed and slept until midday. The dancers rising did not disturb her.
Once able to see and think, she discovered she had three letters accumulated. One was from Falth in his elegant hand, and one was a thank-you note for volunteering from the Master in Charge, awaiting her return. She later learned that this was a habit of his. He would write a note to dragoneers flying out on particularly onerous or dangerous tasks. When they returned, they’d find a note of appreciation. If they didn’t return, he placed them in a case in his office and perused them now and then before making an important decision.
Though she hoped to rise in the Serpentine, learning that made her think she might not ever wish to rise to his office.
The third was a little confusing, couched as it was in so much formal legalese. It was from some archivist in Asposis written on the orders of a “Practitioner of Laws, Affirmed as Agent” in Sammerdam. It was a heavily annotated paper, only about a third in Montangyan, with Hypatian phrases and reference numbers throughout. It appeared that as the Lodger’s heir (in the Vales; he had other heirs elsewhere who were being notified by other agents who specialized in this kind of thing—for rich fees), she’d gained some “listed title-scrolls, held in trust in the following archives (see attached locations).” They were obviously scrolls and books of various kinds, and the titling was obscure. It didn’t seem like anything she’d find interesting reading. It looked to be genealogy lists and discourses about boats and engineering and lumber and mining. Well, he’d been a dragon of wide learning and deep interests and had been involved in constructing the Serpentine. This was probably his reference collection from that time, returned to this archivist in Asposis. If such a thing as a history of the Serpentine’s founding were ever written, it might be of interest to the historian. It was a matter for Kess in the archives.