“Galia, did you know his rider, Heem Zwollen?”
“No. They were captured just before I came here. Dun Huss spoke highly of him,” Galia said.
“Yes, he was a wingman under him, years ago. Galia and Ileth, Heem Zwollen and Fespanarax commanded anywhere from three to twelve dragons when the Galantine War was, shall we say, more active before the armistice and peace negotiations began. Fespanarax was wounded and he and Zwollen were captured before the armistice. Zwollen could have gone away with Dun Huss but he rightly refused to leave his dragon. I know there are a lot of stories of downed dragons and their riders dying back to back, fighting as it were, or committing suicide, but those sorts of heroics don’t happen that often in practice. Heem Zwollen and Fespanarax surrendered and were taken to an estate that volunteered to support the dragon during their internment. I’d like that to be a lesson to you two, Galia and Ileth, if nobody else has taught it. Your first duty is to keep your dragon alive. Alive.”
Ileth felt a silent thrill that she and Galia were named in the same breath as being responsible for a dragon.
“Now there’s no particular reason you need to know this, but Zwollen’s captivity led to the first peace negotiations. We haven’t come off well in the war. The Galantines are powerful; they scored a coup early on, and our diplomacy failed and we found ourselves without allies, but that’s for the history books to sort out. There are certain problems with the situation now I must address. Zwollen caught an infection last fall. He survived it, but he was so weak this winter that he succumbed to illness and died. Dun Huss went out there to see about getting the body returned and to see if something could be negotiated about Fespanarax, whom the Galantines are understandably loath to release; he’s one of our best dragons even if he is a bit greedy for coin. They have but few dragons, and the ones they do have are, well, second rate and a bit chary of risking their lives, so it’s one of the few areas where we have a decided advantage over them.
“Once the war is officially over, which we expect anytime now, prisoners will be released. Fespanarax will be able to return here. But things with diplomats are never certain. One incident, one fiery speech, and it could be back to the fire, blade, and crossbow for the whole bunch of us.”
Ileth was curious as to where this was leading. What particular reason was there for her to be briefed on prisoners and negotiations?
“In effect, Hael Dun Huss is now a prisoner of the Galantines, as he is reluctant to leave Fespanarax without proper care from the Serpentine. What I am proposing is to send Galia, we’ve already spoken about this, to take Dun Huss’s place and care for Fespanarax. Ileth, I know what you did for our Lodger. I’m hoping that if Fespanarax is in decline, you’ll have similar results with him. Maybe some human women about are all he needs. I understand few Galantine women go anywhere near dragons; they think they’ve been hurled straight up from Inferno.”
“Ileth, I believe you said you speak some Galantine,” Caseen said.
“A little. I r-read it well enough,” Ileth said.
“Oh, it’s better than that, unless you were unusually lucky—even for you—when I tested you,” Caseen said.
“Then you can teach me,” Galia said. “I learned how to demand surrender: Quar-benth!”
“That’s the spirit,” Heem Deklamp said. “But hopefully the situation won’t come up. Peace is in the offing, remember?”
He turned his attention to the young women. “You need not fear the Galantines. They’re stiff enough on the battlefield, but their conduct toward prisoners is irreproachable. If I am ever captured, gods grant it be by the Galantines. They are also famously courteous toward women, so you two will probably have it about as well as Dun Huss and Heem Zwollen did, if not better.”
“It is a commission of great responsibility,” Caseen said, stressing the word commission.
Galia’s hand reached for Ileth’s and they squeezed each other’s palms. A commission. Commissions were for assigns of the Assembly, important dragoneers, and such. Successful completion of an important commission would be reported to the Assembly, perhaps printed in those newssheets in Sammerdam that Ileth had not yet seen.
The Master in Charge gave that a moment to sink in. “You’ve had the honey, here’s the vinegar: there’s no absolute guarantee we’ll see you again before an old-age release as a mercy. We would be turning you over to them as prisoners. The war could start again and go for thirty years, and you’ll already be prisoners without ever having a chance at your glory. I don’t mean to be dismissive, but if that happens, I’ll need every man I have, and I’ll sleep better knowing Galantine custom and manners are making things easier for you because of your feminine birth. You might be there three weeks, three months, three years, or three decades. Therefore this is not something I can order you to do, you understand.”
“I’ll go,” Galia said. “I’ve had enough time to think about it.”
“I’ll go with her,” Ileth said. Galia had volunteered, after all, and hadn’t she been told to imitate her? She instantly regretted it. The Captain had often chuckled to his roustabouts that when the call passes through the cabin for volunteers, one should duck into another cabin before they know you’ve gone. Then she argued with herself again—a trip to Galantine, the sunny Golden Land. Manners, traditions, a place where lordly men rode out for their king . . .
“Thank you,” the Master in Charge said. “You lived up to my expectations for the two of you.”
He swept the others with a look, and then his face followed his eyes to the two holding hands on the couch once again.
“There’s one other matter, again. Obey any and all restrictions the Galantines put on you. For Zwollen, I understand from his letters he was free upon the grounds of their host’s estate—he stated the lands were extensive. He was allowed to go into the village that supported the estate, and the host family invited him along for such village feasts and religious ceremonies that were appropriate. But within those restrictions, learn all you can. You never know what insights might come of an observation. They are a traditional culture, in some ways almost Hypatian. I’m not asking you to be spies; that’s hardly a job for two women in their second decade. But we’re all dragoneers—or we want to be—and one of the first duties of a dragoneer is reconnaissance by observation.”
“How will we get there?” Galia asked.
“I’ve given that some thought. Galia, you will ride Cunescious. He’s young, and he’s never been over the Galantine lands. I’d like him to have the experience. Ileth, you don’t weigh much; you ride behind her on an attached saddle. Bring no more than will fit in one small bag. That’s one of the reasons I’m sending you two; neither of you are trunk-fillers. Makes it easy to shift you about.”
“Poverty keeps no great wardrobe,” Galia said.
“You’ll be guided there by Dun Huss’s wingman, Preece. He will escort Dun Huss back, the sooner the better. Keep your wits about you. I don’t expect the Galantines to try a coup, with you flying under flag of truce and negotiations so close to conclusion and with their advantage on the ground, so to speak, but if they could find some excuse to bag Mnasmanus, perhaps our best fighting dragon these days, and your young dragon along with Fespanarax the Reckless, it would be a stunning move and a hard blow for us. So be on your guard.”
Ileth made light of the trip with the other dancers. They all gave her little voyage-gifts and a light basket to take them in on her stay in a foreign part. Ottavia lamented her loss and expressed hope for a recovery by Fespanarax. “If all else fails, suggest that they give him a few gold coins to eat. Silver might do. The Galantine lands have a great deal of silver, do they not? Fespanarax I remember as something of a coin-hound.”