She laid them back on her little shelf and used a candle to hold them down. She realized her only real dance sheath was now not fit for service, and she’d given Fespanarax her silver and coin. She’d have to beg one off someone. Well, she’d begged as a lodge-girl; she could beg as a Galantine Lady of Hospitals and Refuges.
The only person around was Santeel Dun Troot, who was eating pickled eggs from the dragon kitchens and writing a letter to her father. Ileth couldn’t help but see “allowance” in the text, as Santeel had underlined it. She said she had two old sheaths she could easily spare, or a much nicer one that would require some sewing before it would be fit for dancing. Ileth was grateful for one of the old ones.
“I enjoyed your l-letters. I wish there had been more,” Ileth said, when the business was done.
Santeel crossed her arms. “I grew sick of answering questions: Ileth, Ileth, Ileth, have you heard anything from Ileth? I could have just as easily gone. Was it hard, eating Galantine feasts and making sure you didn’t expose your bosom overmuch in the sun?”
“The only hard part was the boredom,” Ileth said. Half-truths were so useful. “How do things proceed with Rapoto?”
Santeel shrugged. “Our official unofficial engagement has excited our families more than either of us. I wonder if I want that life anymore, presiding over prize apple basket judging at the harvest fair and being complimented on my children. I’m still grateful to him—and you, Ileth—for going along with it so I can stay here. I’m supposed to start with the physikers in the summer. But I shall still dance when they have need of an extra body. Not looking forward to doctoring. I about bring up my breakfast when I see blood, but they tell me I’ll get over it.”
Santeel brought her up-to-date on other small doings of the dancers’ nook and let loose a secret that Ottavia was planning on taking a few dancers to Sammerdam for an exhibition, if she could find any who would swear on their souls not to accept any offers of marriage. The talk of travel reminded her of Fespanarax and she decided that she was still technically his dragoneer and should check on his care up in the Rotunda.
She promised Santeel that she’d see her at afternoon drill.
Fespanarax was still asleep. They had found a shelf for him. She went down to see it and after deciding it would fit him easily she walked back to the notch and ran into Dath Amrits.
Amrits smiled broadly at her but his eyes didn’t have their usual sparkle. “Good to have you back, Ileth. You set the example and keep us on our toes. Did the Galantines finally grow sick of the old grump on wings? To hear Hael talk, they do away with the inconvenience with poison that turns your teeth blue.”
Ileth explained, truthfully enough, that she’d never worried about being poisoned, and she’d been released in hopes of getting the peace negotiations on a firmer footing. Amrits smiled wanly. He wasn’t his usual self and she asked after him.
“Oh, it’s Etiennersea. She’s in one of her moods. Suffers from headaches. Gets her very down. I keep her on thin broths and stay on her shelf with her until she feels better. Sometimes rubbing her neck helps, but dragons have a great deal of neck, so it wears me out. Oh, speaking of worn out, have you heard about the eggs?”
“Eggs?”
“Yes. Vithleen has had a clutch. She’s installed down in your old Lodger’s digs, since it is so quiet down there.”
“Vithleen! Well . . . they’ll be fast when they grow up.”
“You should tell Fespanarax. I think Vithleen is his niece or something.”
“Vithleen—how does it work with dragons? She has a mate?” Ileth asked. “I didn’t know.”
“Yes, has for years, they’ve just never had any luck with eggs. I suppose I should go back to a night not long after you left. I remember old Hael had just come back from the Galantine lands and with his obsession with poisons. Anyway, Falberrwrath was down in spirits. Perhaps he missed you.”
“What does Falberrwrath have to do with Vithleen?”
“He’s her mate, have been for years. Dragons are odd; they often mate but don’t spend much time together unless there’s a clutch. Falberrwrath fought in the Galantine War; Vithleen raced about doing messages. But back to my story.
“Falberrwrath was down, as I was saying. Said something about wishing he’d gone down in flames in the war like Mnarfemum. I understand they were close. There was talk that he might be fading into a decline. Well, Ottavia really put on the show to perk him up. She spent three whole nights with him dancing herself half to death. At the end of it, he was feeling like a strong young dragon again, and he invited Vithleen up. Did you know dragons mate aloft? At high altitude, I understand. The males have to work quite hard to get up there; not all of them can do it. Falberrwrath must have had some fire lit under him because he caught up to her, the old notch-hound, and a few weeks later Vithleen asked to be taken off courier duty as she was fatigued. The next thing you know, everyone was talking about eggs. It’s rare in the Serpentine. Usually a mated pair who wants a family goes off somewhere remote for a while. It’s supposed to be an excellent omen for the novices this year. If you put any belief into omens.
“So as I said, when she felt her time was close, she installed herself where your Lodger fellow used to be. Best keep her out of the way. The dragons don’t like humans about, especially when the eggs are about to hatch. That’s some ways off, though, the physikers say. But when they start to tap, best keep well away. Even Serpentine dragons will kill you for coming near them and beg forgiveness after the eggs are hatched, I’m told. Maybe you’re brave enough to go down and see them hatch, but I’m not.”
Amrits saw a groom he needed and excused himself.
Well, dragon eggs. That was news. Funny that Santeel or the other dancers didn’t mention it. Was it a secret? Amrits might be the sort of fellow to let a secret slip, especially if he was tired and talking to someone he trusted.
She found Yael Duskirk pushing his food cart. His white apprentice sash was worn, sad, and stained. Usually he kept it so bright.
She asked him to find something special for Fespanarax to enjoy for his first meal back in the Serpentine, as the Galantines had been feeding him on cattle odds-and-ends. He agreed, and asked for details of her release. Ileth said that the letter to the Baron from the King said that the release of Fespanarax was partially in hope of getting the peace talks moving forward again.
“The Galantines usually cry peace only when they’re about to get their throats cut, or do some cutting of their own. I wonder why now?” He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Are you well?” Ileth asked. Everyone in the Serpentine seemed to be out of sorts today.
“Tired. My new novice is a lazy scat. You’ll notice he’s not here. His father’s a Name in the stock exchange in Sammerdam and he’s used to getting his way, being born with a Vor in his name. I’d like to be a big bug for a change. So how did the world seem over in the Baronies? Will there be peace, or will my torments finally end over the Scab?”