Steel Dragon

Part Eight

"Endgame"

-What's the deal? Spin the wheel.
-If the dice are hot -- take a shot.
-Play your cards. Show us what you got --
-What you're holding.
-If the cards are cold,
-Don't go folding.
-Lady Luck is golden;
-She favors the bold. That's cold.

Flip. Flip. Flip. Flip. Flip.

"Hmm. . . . I bid five."

"Five."

"Five, and two more."

". . . .I'll see you, and raise you another five."

Sniff. . . . ". . . .I'm out."

"Out."

Grease lifted his head to glare at the rest of us, his dark eyes icy as he threw his cards down in disgust. "Damn it, I ain't playing anymore; not 'til I find out how come every time I get a good hand, everybody else bails out. Just what in the hell's going on here?"

I gave my buddy Grease the most innocent look I could muster, draconic features notwithstanding. Across from me, Stefan turned away politely, trying to conceal the amused smile battling its way across his face. Fields and Luce, however, weren't as discreet and began to laugh at Grease's expression. "It's easy, man," chuckled Fields, "you're upwind of Max." Grease blinked at the Special Ops man, his confusion obvious, so Fields continued. "Take a look at that schnozz he has on him; think he just might have a pretty good sense of smell?"

"You sweat, Grease; every time you get a good hand, you begin to sweat," I finished patiently. "Just a little, but enough to tell me when it's time to fold."

"And we're just following his lead," smirked Fields. "Don't feel bad, he nailed all of us until we wised up. You're just the last one to catch on."

Grease blinked at Fields, then blinked again. Finally he turned to stare at me, his eyes hard as anthracite. He lifted an index finger and pointed it at me. "You . . . you. . . ." The finger waggled a bit, and a small smile started tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You . . .you son of a . . . son of a. . . ." That small smile began to spread out into a rueful grin. "You son of a . . . something, you mangy, dirty, low-down. . . ."

Everybody was laughing by now, Grease included. Chuckling, I began to shove the chips I'd won from him back across the table, but he waved me off. "No, don't, don't," he laughed "ain't nothing in the rules that says you can't smell a guy's hand out. But . . ." that finger went up again ". . . we are switching seats!"

The poker game continued for another couple of hours, long enough for the time to come for Luce to relieve Wolfman outside on sentry duty, then we broke up the game by unspoken consent and everyone drifted off to do other things. I myself padded over to one of the windows, stared out at the ice crystals battering themselves against the glass. It was only late afternoon, but already the oncoming winter storm had dimmed the sky to twilight. It was going to be a rough evening up in these mountains.

Commando weather, whispered the dark wraith that coiled at the bottom of my soul. When they come, it will be a night like this, if not this very night. . . .

My mane jangled discordantly as I shook my head impatiently. If they come. If. I glanced over to the pile of straw and old clothing over in the far corner of the main room, where three young dragonets slept, their bodies coiled about one another. I had my children back, and Pasqual had vanished. Deprived of its power base, support for Ahnkar and his rubber-stamp Council was eroding like a sand castle in the rain, and already agents for the various dragon clans had begun discreetly contacting Dithra, carefully fishing about for some sort of accommodation.

The thought of those ambassadors made the corner of my hard mouth curl downward in disgust. Opportunists and fence-sitters; they were nowhere to be found when Dithra had her position on the Council usurped, but now that it seemed we held all the aces they were suddenly showing up with their rosy offers of alliance and support. How very human. I'd made it clear to Dithra just how much I'd like to send those representatives back to their clans, one piece at a time, but the ancient dragon insisted on tolerating them for now, correctly pointing out that although the Council was beginning to fail, it still far outstripped us in terms of resources and sheer muscle. That didn't stop her from having me present at each meeting, however, looming just behind her, eyeing the representative with undisguised loathing. It tended to screw up their concentration a bit-- they'd all learned of Niata's fate, and it had shaken them badly-- and I had watched with growing respect as the Eldest skillfully wrung more than a few extra concessions from them as a result of that distraction.

I chuckled softly to myself as I recalled the latest meeting. The dragon-diplomat had become quite rattled as I stared at him, and Dithra had sliced and diced him as a result. In any case, the end result of all those meetings was that our little ranch up in the northern Rockies was now quite possibly one of the most thoroughly protected pieces of real estate on the planet.

. . . .Not that we didn't have our own stuff out, of course. None of us, human or dragon, had bothered to say a word about how far we trusted these new allies. Hell, even the Council trusted the clans just about as far as you could drop-kick a mountain, preferring to rely upon hirelings and mercenaries rather than upon the clans' ephemeral assurances. An elaborate web of electronic sentries were now in place around the clustered buildings of the ranch, woven by Deebs, Fields and myself, and thoroughly tested by both Luce and Stefan. In addition, we always had at least one live sentry out at any given time, roving the perimeter in a random pattern. Inside the house, Stefan and I had the task of never letting the kids out of our sight.

Still, I had a bad feeling my human side was right; weakened and falling apart, the Council had to do something, and soon. An assault was most likely; Dithra's agents informed us the Council now knew our location, but whether such an assault would succeed was far more doubtful. Meanwhile, time was on our side for once. The longer the Council dithered, the stronger we became, and the closer came the day when Lady Dithra would wrest back her position as Eldest, and I would have my final reckoning with both Ksstha and Ahnkar.

Something nudged my flank, breaking into my ruminations, and I looked down to see Ashadh bumping against me, purring quietly. I felt a smile curving my lips as I gently ran my hand along the gunmetal-colored scales of his neck, then glanced at the makeshift nest where the other two children still dozed. Ashadh was the only male of the nest, and closely resembled myself in build except for his darker coloration. The two females' color was closer to that of quicksilver, their long, sinuous bodies strongly hinting of their Lung heritage save for their wings. One was a little larger than the other, but otherwise my two daughters could have been twins. Unlike Ashadh, they acted a little less at-ease with me and their surroundings, and one of them, the larger, seemed to actually be a little afraid of me and tried to avoid me. That hurt, and I was constantly going out of my way to make friends with her, or at least ease her fears a little, but so far nothing had worked.

Kids. Can't live with them, can't sell them into slavery, the wraith whispered. I chuckled quietly to myself, then played Ashadh's favorite game with him, batting forepaws back and forth in a draconic version of patty-cake. All three dragonets had grown increasingly restless as of late. I suspected they were beginning to miss their mother, but for now there was little I could do about that.

A short while later Wolfman came in from the cold, stomping the snow from his boots. Ashadh looked at him, but the glance only held annoyance, not the hatred and fear that had filled it only a few weeks earlier. "It is going to be a terrible night," the German soldier noted unnecessarily as he peeled off his gear and over-garments, hanging them on the wall next to the door to drip-dry. "Another five or ten centimeters of snow, and much colder, I think." Wolfman paused, eyeing the supply of wood piled next to the stove. "Perhaps I should go out and get more?" he mused, half to me and half to himself.

"Maybe a little later," I replied. "Why don't you thaw-out and get yourself a bite to eat first?"

Wolfman nodded silently, then paused, looking at Ashadh. For a horrible moment I thought he was going to try to pat the dragonet on the head. That suicidal notion was apparently nixed, however, when a low, warning growl began to issue from my son. Wolfman recoiled slightly, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features, then retreated to the kitchen.

I breathed a quiet sigh of relief as Ashadh relaxed, and we went back to playing patty-cake and my thoughts began to wander again. Not everything had gone well, of course. That total screw-up of a rescue operation resulted in a conflagration that, by the time it finally burned itself out, had demolished the huge old warehouse we'd snatched my kids from. But no fire destroys everything, and I had no doubt there had been more than enough evidence left in the ashes to make the local police and even the Feds become quite interested. Indeed, at first the police had been ominously silent on the subject, but then after several days had suddenly written the fire off as an act of arson by vagrants. There was talk of finding the building's owner and having a word with him about illegal chemical storage, but for the most part everyone just seemed to be going through the motions.

This worried me far more than a full-blown public inquiry would have. Who had quashed the investigation, and why? I'd voiced my concerns to Stefan and then Dithra, and had received in return a thoroughly unsatisfactory reply. We do not know, dear one, Dithra had answered, but rest assured that both sides in this affair have concealed their tracks most carefully. The humans may wonder as to what occurred, but that is all they shall be able to do.

With most things, I trusted Dithra's judgment. This time, however, I knew that she was wrong. Somewhere out there dangerous forces were stirring, seeking information, beginning to sniff for our trail. They might not find it immediately, or for months, or for years, but they would never stop searching. With all the implacable patience of an elder dragon they would stalk their prey, never stopping until they had their answers. This I knew, for I had once been part of those forces.

Those tracks had better be damned-well covered, my Lady; otherwise. . . .

Scant minutes later, as if to echo my bleak thoughts, the tactical commo station perched on a corner table suddenly bleeped to life. "SD One to SD Six, over."

The sudden sound had startled both me and my son, and for a moment we simply stared bemusedly at the military radio. Over in the corner, both my daughters' heads had lifted, eyes blinking quizzically at the unusual sound.

"SD One to SD Six, over."

Wolfman came striding quickly out of the kitchen and went to answer the call. A couple of the others, Stefan and Grease, came in from the adjoining room. "SD One, SD Four. Go."

"SD Four, SD One. We have incoming; a truck on the access road," came Luce's deep voice, all inflection crushed out of it by heavy encryption. "One occupant. Instructions? Over."

The former GSG-9 trooper gave me a questioning look, and Stefan and I exchanged glances. Anybody who managed to get this far would have had to pass through the clan forces lurking about us in the surrounding forests. An innocent human stupid enough to be out in these mountains at this time of the year would have met with an 'unfortunate accident' long before he got to us. Therefore. . . . "Tell him to check it out," I said at last.

"SD One, SD Six says to go check it out. Over."

"SD One, roger. Out."

The commo unit went silent, and we were left to stand and stare at each other for awhile. It didn't take me long to get antsy. "I'll go back him up," I rumbled, getting to my feet. Immediately Stefan's mouth flattened out into a hard, thin line, so I addressed him next. "Watch the kids, Stefan."

Dithra's agent relaxed slightly, finally nodded. "Yes, my Lord," he said at last.

Ashadh tried to follow me out the door, but I stopped him with a touch on his armored snout. "No, Ashadh; not this time," I explained gently. "I know you want to go out and romp in the snow, but we may have a problem, and I want you to stay here, where it's safe." And it's less likely the agent of some enterprising clan might snatch you up. "Pay attention to Stefan, and do what he tells you, all right?"

I don't think Ashadh understood my words as yet; Ancestors, he'd been out of his shell for barely a year, but I know he understood my tone, for he gave a brief whine, and then reluctantly stepped back into the ranch house. I closed the door behind him, turned, and launched myself out into the snow, my steel-gray wings swinging out and snagging the gusty wind. Within seconds I was airborne, flying low to the ground and further reducing my size to better weave between the dark pines that surrounded our tiny base.

Within minutes I had caught up with Luce, found him standing by the driver's-side door of the now-stopped truck, talking to the driver. My eyes shifted focus, zooming in on the driver's face, and I felt the corners of my hard mouth curving down in anger. You bloody idiot. . . . I backed my wings, braking hard, my form already beginning to twist and flow. A tiny, complex pattern etched into one of my scales flared briefly before following my scales into nothingness, and winter battle-dress far colder than the bitter mountain weather settled around me as my feet, now clad in insulated combat boots, slammed into the powdery snow. Scarcely slowing, I strode forward, nudged a surprised Luce aside as I yanked the truck's door open and climbed right up into the driver's startled face. "Deebs, do you just happen to remember how our security is supposed to work?" I hissed.

Deebs blinked, obviously taken aback by my abrupt appearance. "Well, um, I . . . where the heck did you come from?" Suddenly realizing I was on the verge of exploding, Deebs put up both hands and made little patting motions. "Whoa, Max! Whoa! Hey, I'm sorry, man; I tried to call, but I couldn't get through! So, I just came on ahead." The irrepressible Texan suddenly grinned. "Not like anyone's gonna mistake my ugly mug for anyone but me," he finished cheerfully.

I stared at him for a moment, then glanced back at Lucifer. "Find out," I stated tersely, then went back to studying Deebs with narrowed eyes, momentarily wishing I still had my talons. "Deebs, do you have any idea whatsoever of just how many house-sized carnivores you drove past on the way here, every one of which very probably couldn't tell one human from the next if their lives depended on it? Do you have any idea--"

"Oh, those guys?" Deebs made a little flicking motion with one hand, weirdly reminiscent of a gesture Dithra sometimes made. "Yeah, I saw them; they tried to play the Boojum Snark with me, but I just waved at 'em and they let me pass."

I blinked, realized my jaw was hanging slightly agape, closed it. Again I looked at Luce. He was busy with his radio, but he gave me a wry smile and a shrug. Well, what do you expect from amateurs? I turned back to stare at Deebs. A vision of him motoring past a group of confused, multi-ton apex predators with nothing more than a friendly wave and a cheery hey, how're y'all doin'? came to mind. I put a gloved hand to my forehead, a heartfelt groan escaping from me. "Luce, I think we need to strengthen our perimeter," I said at last.

"Yeah; I think so, too," Deebs replied, nodding vigorously. "Them folks out there didn't seem too clear on how to go about things, that's for sure. In fact--" easing me out of the way, he quickly scooted out of the truck's cab and headed for the rear, leaving both myself and Luce to trail along behind "--that's one of the reasons I decided to go shopping. Remember that little fracas awhile back? Those G3s of ours weren't much better than spit-balls against that critter in the warehouse, so I started lookin' for somethin' better to fill the bill."

Producing a key from a jacket pocket, Deebs undid the padlock on the truck's rear door and slid it upwards, revealing a large heap of crates of various sizes as he scrambled inside. Dragging a particular crate out of the pile, he wrenched the top open, reached inside, and lifted out something that was either a miniature howitzer or the rifle from hell. Both Luce and I stared at the thing in Deebs' arms, and he grinned at the expressions on our faces as he set it down before us. "Like it? It's a Barrett M82A1A fifty-cal. The Marines use it as a sniper rifle. You can reach out and touch someone from a mile-off with this baby; pretty good idea when you're fightin' somethin' that can fly, don't'cha think? And this--" he kicked open the lid of another, more compact crate, pulled out an ammo tin "--is what we're gonna feed it." Our armorer yanked back the lid on the ammo tin, retrieved a large, weird-looking green and silver-striped cartridge from inside. "Looks kinda funny, doesn't it? It's Mk-211 Raufoss. It's one of the new multi-purpose Special Operations rounds that've been showing up of late. It's got the punch of a pint-sized HEAT round, and it'll blow right through the side of a BMP without even slowing down, then chop everything inside into hamburger. Now, put these into this," he patted the M82 affectionately "and you have something that I guarantee will kick some scaly ass." Pause. "Um, no offense meant, Max."

I made an impatient gesture, eyeing the M82 intently. "None taken. How many of these do you have?"

Deebs looked slightly embarrassed at the question. "Uh, only one for right now, but I got people lookin' for more. Hopefully I'll have enough to outfit everyone in a couple weeks." He suddenly grinned savagely. "Y'know, them folks we did business with the last time, they've turned out to be a downright useful bunch of people, now that we understand each other."

The one thing a predator will respect is a bigger, meaner predator. I returned the Texan's grin, then chuckled. "All right; head on up to the house, and we'll--"

Deebs waved me down before I went any further, a sly smile decorating his face. "Ain't finished yet. C'mon; hop up in here. I want to show you something special."

Reluctantly I did so, and Deebs brought me over to where a massive crate sat against the forward wall, then leaned against it, grinning. "Y'know, I felt kinda bad, you in that warehouse with nothin' to defend yourself with except that piddlin' little flame-thrower of yours. So, I did a little thinkin', then a little lookin' around, and this is what I found, just for you."

The crazy Texan (redundant phrase, perhaps?) heaved back the lid with a theatrical flourish, and I stared, stunned, at what lay within. It took several long moments for me to get my voice to work. "Deebs," I began weakly, "how in the hell did you--!?"

"Ah-ah-ah!" Deebs waved an admonishing finger at me playfully. "Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies. Just take it for granted that when you have someone like your Lady Dithra bankrolling you, there ain't all-that much in this world you can't get," he chuckled. "Got an initial load-out of ammo for the thing in that big box over there. In addition, I was thinkin' that there was a fair-to-middlin' chance there might come a time you might need a little more punch than even this thing can offer. So, I went and got you the contents of that box right over there. Go ahead; open it."

I gave Deebs a suspicious glance, then pried back the wooden lid of the crate he'd indicated. Inside there was yet another container, this time made of sleek, extruded aluminum, painted olive-drab and marked with an alarmingly familiar series of letters and numbers. Still, I didn't really believe what I had sitting before me, not until the hermetically-sealed container equalized pressure with an evil hiss, I swung back the cover, and gazed down at the container's contents.

"Merry Christmas, Max."

We rummaged through a few more crates, then I sent Deebs off to grab some help to offload his goodies into one of the ranch's outbuildings. Afterwards I talked a bit with Luce, then shifted and flitted back to the house, where I found Wolfman testing the HF equipment we used to talk to the outside world. He eventually gave up without finding anything wrong, but shortwave can be flaky even in the best of times, so that wasn't unusual. I hated to use the cranky gear, most especially because no crypto equipment that we could get hold of would interface with it. But the ranch had no phone service, the MILSATCOM we all remembered so fondly was of course out of the question, and nothing else could work its way out of the rugged terrain surrounding us.

Later that evening that self-same equipment hissed and spat and a voice came on with near-perfect clarity, spoke a handful of code words, then went silent. Fields handled the call this time, acknowledging the transmission, then turning to nod to me. I silently returned the gesture, already knowing what the code words meant; one of Dithra's people were coming to visit, probably Kaa'saht. After his ordeal in Ahnkar's camp, Dithra had pulled him in from the field. Now he acted as trusted courier between us and Dithra as she traveled about, cementing one political agreement after another.

Sure enough, right around the time we were lighting lanterns and Wolfman was out back running our little tactical generator to recharge the radio batteries for the night, there was a thump from outside. A few moments later Kaa'saht came in, once again in his human guise. He looked quite worn; evidently Dithra was keeping him more than a little busy.

I looked up from where I had coiled myself next to my children's nest. "Kaa'saht," I greeted warmly "it's good to see you again. How are things with Lady Dithra?"

The young dragon looked at me with tired eyes, gave me a weak smile. "Well, my Lord; quite well. Her efforts are proceeding even more swiftly than we had dared to hope." His smile broadened a bit. "And, if I may be so bold as to say so, she seems to be enjoying herself immensely in the process."

I chuckled. "Yeah; she would," I replied. "What brings you out here on a night like this?"

Kaa'saht made a small gesture I hadn't learned yet. "My Lady sends her regards, Lord Hasai, and requests you attend a meeting between herself and a representative from the Sstahn clan at my Lady's dwelling tomorrow morning."

I sighed quietly, ran talons thru my unruly mane. Doubtless it was yet another ambassador from some obscure clan trying to maneuver itself onto the winning side. "Very well," I rumbled at last. "Will you be staying the night?" I looked out the window again, out into wintry chaos, and felt a twinge of worry for Luce until I realized how ludicrous it was. "I would recommend it; the weather's getting pretty nasty out there."

Kaa'saht hesitated, glanced at the nest for some reason, then bowed. "I would be both honored, and . . ." he glanced out the window himself, his expression growing wry ". . . quite grateful, my Lord. Unfortunately, my Lady has other plans for me this evening." He paused at that point, his expression growing puzzled. "My Lord, if I may ask. . . ."

He trailed off with a meaningful glance outside, and I chuckled. "To answer your question, yes; I suppose I could, but it would take a huge amount of effort, and there's really no point," I explained. "If I dispersed the storm, all the moisture and energy in it would still be out there, to cause even worse trouble later." I rippled both sets of shoulders in an elaborate shrug. "So, unless I have a very good reason to do otherwise, I leave the weather alone to do whatever it wants to do."

Stefan had drifted into the room during my explanation, and he and Kaa'saht exchanged gestures of respect before turning their attention back to me. "I thank you for the explanation, my Lord," Kaa'saht responded, markedly more formal, now that Stefan was there. I felt a twinge of pity for him; the young dragon quite obviously wanted to ask me a thousand questions, but Stefan's quelling presence had immediately shut him down. There was a moment of nervous silence on his part while everybody waited for someone else to speak, then finally he asked to be excused.

Once poor Kaa'saht had not-quite hurried from the room, I gave Stefan a wry smile. "You scare the crap out of that kid, you know that?" I chuckled.

The ex-Stasi agent shook his head, smiling slightly as he found himself a seat near my son and myself. Ashadh promptly padded over to sniff at his leg, then rubbed his head against it, crooning quietly. Stefan's normally reserved facade cracked for a moment as he gazed fondly down at the dragonet, then looked back to me. "As long as they are competent in their work, my people have nothing to fear from me, my Lord, and Kaa'saht is quite competent, I assure you." He gave me a very human shrug. "If he indeed fears me, my Lord, I have given him no reason for it."

I looked at him for the moment it took me to mentally catalog all the reasons why any sane creature should fear Dithra's agent, nodded, then once again looked out the window. "Foresee any problems tonight?"

Stefan grew pensive as he too looked out the window, pretending that he hadn't already calculated the evening's odds. "Doubtful, my Lord," he said at last. "This area is largely uninhabited, even in the gentlest of seasons, and so far the clans are honoring their agreements to protect this place. It will be difficult for the Council to move forces into the area without attracting the attentions of either our agents or those of the clans, unless they take great pains to remain concealed, and that takes time. Time the Council has not yet had, and quite possibly never will, if Lady Dithra's activities continue to go as well as they have."

I nodded, then sighed, my thoughts wandering once again. We did not attain Sun-Tzu's acme; we did not win the conflict without firing a shot, but I was beginning to hope, down deep, that just maybe we had managed to prevent a wider, far deadlier war. How's that for an epitaph, Mink? We will not forget, and we'll make damned sure the dragons never do, either. . . .

My mane jangled quietly as I gave my head a little shake, then turned to look at the small wind-up alarm clock we had sitting on the communications desk. I grimaced. "Looks like I'm going to have to get going, if I'm to make Lady Dithra's meeting in the morning."

Stefan's own face stiffened at that, and after a moment's internal struggle on his part I saw that while we'd argued the point more than once before, he was going to try yet again. "My Lord, please reconsider," he began. "Your children are here, and they need both you and your guidance. Surely they are more important than maintaining your human facade? Your duty--"

"My duty is not only to them, but to all who call themselves dragon, Stefan. My duty is to those whom I've come to respect among the humans as well, if not to this entire planet. My duty--" I bit back the snarl, tamped down on the flare of temper born of both incessant pressure from Stefan and Lady Dithra, and my own rising exhaustion. Ashadh had flinched at the anger in my voice, and now crouched nearby, belly low and eyes wide. Sorrow and regret touched me as I saw his fear, and I turned upon Dithra's agent a look that had him flinching back as well. "I am quite aware of my duties, thank you, Stefan," I continued, more quietly, but in a voice tinged with ice, my eyes locked with his. "However, I have a feeling that, some time in the future, my human guise is going to be far more important to our survival than you could ever imagine. No; I can't explain it, not until I gather more information. Just trust me on this, Stefan."

It didn't take a dragon's senses to be able to tell that Stefan didn't like it one little bit, but his gaze was the first to drop. "As you wish, my Lord," he sighed at last. "Will you be returning tomorrow?"

"Of course," I replied as I concentrated for a moment, and both Stefan and Ashadh twitched as the sphere of the Lung materialized before me with an electric snap. I reached out, closed a taloned hand about the softly glowing sphere. "Some time tomorrow afternoon." I turned to my son. "Heading out, Ashadh; time to make some more biscuit money. Mind Stefan, and please don't try to eat--" I choked off hissing in shock as my son suddenly leaned forward to touch his nose to, then lick, the sphere.

"Ancestors, child!" I yelped, yanking the sphere away. "Don't ever do that!" Ashadh didn't respond, save to blink at me dazedly. A not-surprising state, if contact with the sphere had affected him the same way it did me. Across from me, Stefan had bounced to his feet, his eyes full of concern. "My Lord! Did he--"

"He sure as hell did," I replied as I gently touched the side of my son's face. "Ashadh? Are you alright?" The young dragonet didn't respond at first, but then blinked and shook himself, then began rubbing his head against my hand and crooning as if nothing had happened.

"My Lord?" Stefan looked ill.

I shook my head as I studied my child, then slowly brought the sphere back within Ashadh's reach. He saw the movement and once again reached out to sniff at, then lick the glowing globe, purring loudly. "Well, I'll be damned," I breathed, then looked up at Stefan. "This thing almost killed me the first time I touched it, and here my son is, licking it!"

Stefan blinked, then frowned. "Perhaps it recognizes his Lung blood?"

"Maybe," I mused, "but then why the hell did it-- Whoa! No, Ashadh, don't touch!" I pulled the sphere away from where the dragonet was now trying to grab it in his jaws "You don't want to do that; weird things happen when you stick this thing in your mouth."

Ashadh whined at me, but finally subsided. I kept a wary eye on him as I once again addressed Dithra's agent. "I'd better get out of here before something else happens." I placed the sphere within my jaws, and once again that strange, not-unwelcome sense of connectedness enveloped me. <Hold the fort, Stefan,> I sent silently, then chuckled at the agent's reaction to my latest trick. He blinked several times in astonishment, then quickly bowed. "Yes, of course, my Lord."

I nodded to him, then, acutely aware of my son's intent gaze, concentrated on the image of a little bungalow huddled next to the railroad tracks. . . .

Snap.

A few hours of sleep, then I hauled my weary backside over to Dithra's abode, the sky just barely beginning to lighten. When a dragon says morning, she doesn't mean 0900, or dawn for that matter. What she means is that time prior to dawn, when the sky has lightened to the point that, as the Qur'an says, the eye can tell a white thread from a black thread. That is what a dragon considers morning.

Yuck.

It was just getting that light when I arrived at Dithra's front door and, still yawning mightily, stumbled inside. The Eldest was there in the foyer to greet me, her green-gold eyes twinkling with amusement at my half-asleep expression. "Welcome, dear Hasai; I take it that you did not sleep well?"

I chuckled tiredly. "My Lady, if I keep popping back and forth like this for very much longer, I think I'm going to come down with the world's first terminal case of jet-lag." I rubbed my eyes. "Would we happen to have any coffee in the house, my Lady?"

She hesitated the barest fraction, and I had a bad moment where I thought she was going to pick up where Stefan left off. But then she just smiled, her gray-green dress swirling slightly as her arm swept aside to invite me in. "But of course, dear one, as I make sure there is whenever you are kind enough to visit. Please, share a cup with me. The Sstahn clan's ambassador has arrived, and awaits our pleasure in one of the guest suites. I believe it would be to our advantage to make her wait a bit longer."

I looked at Dithra sidelong as she accompanied me down the passageway leading toward the dining room, and my smile was not nearly as pleasant as her own. "Making her sweat, my Lady?"

She returned my gaze, her own smile widening a bit. "My dear Hasai, dragons do not sweat, so it would be rather difficult to achieve that state with the Sstahn ambassador. However, I do intend to make her just as annoyed and apprehensive as possible."

"Ah;" I chuckled, "I stand corrected, my Lady."

I blinked when I found a fresh pot of coffee already set up and waiting for us in the dining room, --getting predictable, Sarge-- then frowned when I spotted the young female standing apprehensively in the corner. She was trying hard to be unobtrusive, and not succeeding very well. I paused in the room's entryway, gave Dithra a questioning glance. She looked past me at the young female, then smiled at me reassuringly. "That is T'ress, of the clan K'tahh, dear one. They were gracious enough to lend me her services as a private assistant while Stefan, Kaa'saht, and the other members of my staff remain busy . . . doing other things."

"And reporting back everything she sees and hears, I have no doubt," I purred, my eyes studying the female much like the way a cat studies a cornered mouse. The young dragoness, her guise resembling a young college co-ed, blanched slightly, her hands nervously smoothing down her conservative dress while the rest of her tried very hard to blend into the wall behind her.

"But of course," replied the Eldest, her smile broadening slightly as she took her seat, "I would be both astonished and more than a little worried about her mental health if she did otherwise. How would you like your coffee?"

Dragons. I gave my head a small, amused shake, then looked again at T'ress. "Just a little sugar, enough to round-off the edges," I replied at last. Moving quickly, T'ress came off the wall and poured me a cup, adding a tiny amount of sugar with a hand that shook slightly. I studied that hand as it measured the sugar, then the brown and dark-gray dress that clad the arm above it. "My Lady, I've been intending to ask someone this for quite some time; why does it seem that all the dragons I've met always clothe their human forms in colors that match their scales?"

Dithra blinked at the question, then frowned for a long moment while T'ress prepared her cup. Finally, the ancient dragoness gave a very human shrug, a wry smile coming to her face. "Well, dear one, I must admit I never really thought about it before, but I suppose the reason is that it feels right." Her eyes twinkled with humor as she gestured toward myself. "And what about yourself, dear Hasai? Why do you wear the colors of your true form?"

Startled, I looked down to blink in mild astonishment at the steel-gray turtleneck I was wearing, along with a pair of black slacks held up with a steel-buckled belt, and finally the pair of black leather sneakers. My eyes then slid to the side to study the black nylon flight jacket I'd tossed across the back of a vacant chair. Black and silver; how appropriate, I thought, a chill running through me. "You're right, my Lady; they just seemed to be the correct things to wear." I almost continued the thought, but kept silent, the words I was about to speak echoing inside my head. I have been in my true form whenever I have been with my children, and that has been every moment I possibly can. If one's form affects one's thoughts so quickly, and so subtly, in what other ways, has it influenced me? My answer came to me immediately, in the image of myself coiled on the ranch house floor, staring dumbly at the radio as it waited for a reply. I suppressed a shudder of alarm.

"Is there something amiss, dear one?" Dithra had paused, her cup in her hand, a look of concern in her eyes. "You look troubled."

I considered for several seconds, then shook my head. "Nothing of immediate importance, my Lady. I had a thought, and . . . ." A pause, then a frustrated sigh. "I'm still trying to put it together," I finished lamely, then chuckled. "I'll let you know if I ever get it straight."

The ancient dragoness studied me from over her coffee cup for another long moment, then almost glanced at T'ress, who had resumed her role as wall support. "As you wish, young Hasai. Perhaps we shall have the opportunity to discuss it at some other time."

I made a noncommittal sound, rubbed at my eyes, then changed the subject. "My Lady, perhaps I'm just tired, but could you explain this to me just one more time? Why do we have to spend time with these so-called clans? I thought your Council was the bunch we needed to contend with, so why aren't we dealing with them directly?"

Dithra smiled, tilting her head in the way that signaled amused exasperation, but after a moment of thought answered anyway. "Dear one, the Council's strength does not stand upon empty air; it stands upon the strength of the gathered clans. It is the Elders of the strongest clans or their representatives that stand within the Council, being replaced in turn by other clans when they gather greater strength than those who stood within the Council before them."

"So why deal with the Council at all, if the clans hold all the power? Hell, why does the Council even exist?"

Dithra paused to sip a bit more of her coffee before answering. "The clans have the greater power, this much is true," she replied at last "but it is very difficult to get the clans to act with one voice. In a gathering of the clans, the debate on the simplest of subjects can go on seemingly forever, to the point of trying even an Elder's patience to the breaking point. There are many arguments, and the occasional battle. To move quickly and decisively, those are abilities that are beyond the clans."

She paused again, her eyes growing distant for a moment, then she looked back to me with a small smile of apology. "However, what we had was more than sufficient, at least until the coming of the humans. Then things started happening far too quickly. It was Ksstha who realized we needed something new, and labored to make the clan Elders see they needed to gather their collective strength within the claws of a relative few, so the dragons could speak with one voice, act with one will, in the face of the human threat."

I raised an eyebrow, but before I could speak Dithra continued. "Yes, dear one, I know; power concentrated in one small place can be easily abused, and so it was for the early Council. Ksstha ruled as if he were the First Ancestor come back to the world, tolerating no opposing voice in his war against the humans, until at last the clans rose up and took back much of their strength. Ksstha was deposed, though he was too strong to remove from the Council entirely, and the new Elders of the Council chose among themselves for the position of Eldest. And so it has been from that time on."

I frowned at the Elder dragoness. "It's like the Knesset, then; you're trying for a No Confidence vote."

Dithra blinked. "Forgive me, young one, but what was that word again?"

I smiled. "Knesset. It's the name of the Israeli Parliament. It's a form of human government, my Lady. The parliament is the larger, lower body, much like your clans, while the executive branch acts much like your Council. If the parliament decides the, ah, Council, is screwing up, they can try to muster up enough votes to force them to resign."

"Vote." Dithra thought about that word for a moment, then smiled. "Ah; I remember. A very strange concept, that every human should have the same amount of strength as every other human."

I paused in mid-sip. "Um, don't our people do it the same way?"

The ancient dragoness gave me an amused look. "Certainly not! Is an infant just out of the shell the equal of an Elder? No, dear Hasai; we see an individual dragon not just as a body to be counted, but as a summation of his age, wisdom, and personal power. Surely that is the better way, don't you agree?"

"Hm; I'll have to think on that one," I replied carefully. Individual strength rather than numbers? It would never work with humans, but what about with a species where age empowered rather than enfeebled? Interesting. . . .

Finally we had our fill of coffee, and sent T'ress to fetch the Sstahn ambassador to meet us in Dithra's huge living room. It was an amusing encounter, to say the least; the dragoness actually stuttered, her head constantly turning to keep me in sight as I did my usual restless circuit of the room, and Dithra ruthlessly exploited that nervous distraction to tie the clan representative into a diplomatic knot. Afterwards, as Dithra accompanied the ambassador on a short tour of a certain point of interest near the rear of the property, I wandered back to the kitchen for one more round of the dark brew. I chuckled softly to myself as I recalled the meeting, then shook my head in admiration at the magnitude of the dangerous, horribly complex game of both strategy and chance Dithra was playing so adeptly. Perhaps there was something to this diplomacy stuff, after all.

The velvet glove does have its uses, conceded my human half, but only when it contains a steel fist. I blinked at this little piece of worldly wisdom, then paused to consider the increasingly assertive wraith that was part of me. I was interrupted, however, by Dithra's return. "We are close, dear one; very close," she said, her eyes glowing with triumph as she seated herself again. I lifted a quizzical eyebrow over my coffee cup, and she smiled and explained. "The Sstahn are the most influential clan yet to make pact with us. With them within our circle, the Council's power is severely compromised. With just a few more agreements of the level of the one we have just made, the Council will have no choice but to allow me back." Dithra paused then, and gave me a sharp look. "Then, dear one, we shall indeed deal with our opponents, but we shall do it in the manner outlined by tradition."

I looked at her steadily, silently, for nearly a full minute, but the ancient dragoness met my eyes unflinchingly. "They will not go quietly," I offered at last. "They have too much to lose."

Dithra continued to meet my gaze. "There is indeed that possibility, dear one," she said at last "although I pray to the Ancestors it does not come to that. If it does, however . . . then they are yours."

I smiled.

"Mike? Hello?"

I blinked, looked up into my co-worker's chunky face. "Hm? Oh, yeah. Sorry." I rubbed my eyes. "Um, could you repeat what you just said?"

Steve frowned, but repeated himself. "I said, Bob wants to know if you've put together your recommendations for the LAN yet." He paused, gave me a concerned look. "You okay?"

"Yeah; I just haven't been getting much sleep lately," I mumbled, reaching for my coffee mug and quickly downing another jolt. "A lot of stuff on my to-do list right now." Stefan's misgivings about my dual life came back to me again; I mentally shrugged them off, put my mug back onto its perch atop the little warming plate I kept on my work desk, turned back to Steve. "As for the recommendation, that's easy; rip it all out and start over."

Steve blinked, then frowned, his arms moving to fold themselves across his broad chest in a gesture I was beginning to learn was the storm warning for yet another long, hard argument. I felt a twinge of dislike. "Mike, we started work on this thing a long time before you got here, and we've put--"

I waved him down, trying to get a word in edgewise before Steve picked up a head of steam. "Steve? Steve? Hey, Steve! Can I just show you something? It'll only take a minute, honest."

Steve gave me a suspicious look, but at least he uncrossed his arms. "All right," he said at last.

I had him follow me into the main computer room, the entrance to which was less than a dozen steps from my desk. On one side of the room, an ancient Wang minicomputer was running, its cooling fans and hard drives humming loudly, one drive in particular perhaps a little too loudly. On the other side, a rat's-nest of homemade cabling cascaded from a ragged hole in the tile ceiling, then with a myriad of kludged connections plugged itself into a stack of cheap network hubs perched precariously upon a flimsy wall shelf. I stopped in front of the shelf, gave the whole mess a contemptuous look before turning back to Steve and giving him an evil smile. "Watch this."

I raised myself a couple inches on my toes for a moment, then let myself fall, my heels hitting the floor with a thud.

Roughly a third of the connection indicators on the hubs went out.

I did it again, and some of the little green lamps came back on, but then others went out in their place. I looked at Steve, my expression growing serious. "Steve, this whole setup is wildly unstable. All you have to do to knock it out is walk past it, and you want to build a business network atop it?" I shook my head. "I don't think so; not unless you think you'll enjoy being tarred and feathered by the users." Somewhere in the background, a phone was beginning to ring. A pissed-off user, no doubt. "Second, do you have any idea where any of these cables go? What they're hooked-up to? I can't find any documentation anywhere, and trust me, I've looked. Third, this cable--" I jabbed a finger toward the snarl coming out of the ceiling "--is running through the overhead ventilator space, but it isn't plenum-grade. In other words, it's flammable, Steve. Guess what's going to happen the moment the fire marshal lays eyes on it? He's going to slap us with a code violation and make us rip it all out anyway, whether anybody likes it or not. So . . ." I crossed my own arms, looked Steve in the eye. "Any questions?"

Steve stared at the wildly flickering hub indicators, then back to me. Slowly, he deflated. "No; I guess not," he sighed at last. "What do you propose to replace it with?"

I gave the heavyset man a wide smile and patted him on the shoulder, then gently guided him back toward my work desk. "Well, as to that, I just got hold of some lovely catalogs from Cisco, Cabletron, and the networking kiddies over at AT&T, and they're chock-full of neat little toys. Why don't we sit down for awhile and take a look at them?"

After detouring to the gym for a grueling two-hour workout and a hot shower, I finally made it home. I unlocked the door to my little bungalow and trudged inside, setting a bag of supplies onto a side table and tossing my coat into a convenient corner. I took a minute to start the coffee pot, then headed over to the mail slot, gathered the day's take and then plunked down into my easy chair with a groan. Another day, another dollar, I thought to myself, then started flipping all the junk mail into my little stove, following it with a lit match to warm the room up a bit. Soon the little wood-burner was rumbling happily to itself as I started going through the remainder of my mail. Just bills, today. After several minutes of shuffling I eventually gave up, tossing the letters behind me onto the chair as I went back to the kitchen in the hope the coffee was ready.

It was, thank the gods, Ancestors, and whatever else might be listening. I poured some into my favorite mug, added a bit of sugar, then went back to my seat. Once there, I stared for a moment at the pile of papers laying there on the seat cushion, then with a silent snarl swept them off onto the floor. Back in my chair, listening to the stove, it wasn't until I'd finished almost half my mug that I finally began to relax. It had not been a very good day, not with Steve sulking like some small child who'd dropped his ice cream cone. . . .

I jerked myself awake when I felt the scalding contents of my coffee mug beginning to soak through my shirt. Damn! I jerked my cup upright, spilling more in the process, then took both it and myself to the kitchen. A few minutes of frantic dabbing at my clothes with a wet paper towel and I had most of the coffee out, but I knew I had to get my shirt into the wash fast if I wanted to save it.

With a mumbled curse I stumbled into the laundry, stripping off my shirt as I went. I cranked the knob for cold water on the washing machine, tossed my shirt in along with a few fistfuls of soap, then slammed the lid down and punched the start button. The elderly machine started up with a growl and the sound of rushing water, and I tiredly leaned against it. Gotta get more sleep, Sarge . . . I sighed, rubbed at my eyes, then stumbled back to the kitchen to refill my mug and head back to my seat. This time, however, I set my cup on the floor and shifted to my proper form, coiling myself upon the throw-rug I kept in front of the stove. Picking my mug back up with a taloned hand and slurping at its contents, I reached for the scattered papers. Let's see you spill it now, you stupid lizard. . . .

A couple of mugs later I'd finished with the niggling little details that one needs to address to live in a Western country, then with a grunt I rose to my feet and padded back to the front room. Settling back on my haunches I grabbed the sack of supplies, cradling them in one arm as I sent out a mental call. A moment later that incredibly infuriating, incredibly useful sphere of the Lung materialized before me with a quiet snap. I grabbed it in my jaws, repeating the routine I'd settled into in the past weeks as I concentrated on the image of a ranch house lost in a snowy mountain wilderness. . . .

Snap.

The weight of the massive weapon cradled in my arms seemed to dwindle to almost nothing, adrenalin flooding its icy way through me as the last echoes of the choking, gurgling scream slowly faded and died. I slammed my back against a water-slicked wall, blinking the sweat out of my stinging eyes as I peered through my NVGs at the tight maze of galleries and stone columns about me, searching for movement as I tapped my helmet com. "First squad, report," I hissed.

". . . . .st squad. Someth . . . hit our lef . . . took out Stev . . . nd . . .Nguyen before we . . . ld react. I'm pull . . . ack, see if we . . . pen route."

I felt my lips curling back in a snarl of frustration as the rock formations surrounding us continued to play merry hell with communications, then I tried to contact the other squads. After four or five tries I managed to get through, told them to redeploy in tighter groupings and advance deeper into the caverns.

Dropping to one knee, I yanked the canteen off my combat harness, downed a quick gulp of stale water, then allowed myself a few seconds of silent cursing at the bastards who'd sent us into these caverns to dig out the enemy. Everyone, all the way up to the brigade commander, had begged the head shed to just pump the place full of nerve agent and blow the entrance, but noooo, this damned hellhole was a National Treasure. Can't go around pumping National Treasures full of VX, not when they can send infantry in to die in the darkness.

Things had quickly gone to hell in a hand-basket. We'd lost contact with the other platoons within minutes of entering the vast underground galleries, the dense rock making radios almost useless. Several hours later, something caused a huge chunk of the ceiling to let go, crushing the lieutenant, platoon sergeant and several of the men, leaving me as the senior NCO, and in command. Several more suspicious rock-falls had followed, killing four more of my men and forcing us to spread out to make less inviting targets. Now the enemy was picking us off one by one, and so far nobody had even seen one of the damned lizards, let alone gotten a shot off.

I switched freqs, once again tried to raise company main, once again failed. Damn it, I had to tell them we were in contact, that we needed to pull back. If I retreated without the rest of the company knowing, whatever it was we were facing could follow us, swinging around to hit the other company elements in the rear. . . .

. . . .Assuming they weren't already dead. . . .

Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP! THINK! There has to be a way out of this damned deathtrap, if I could just get a moment to--

A scuffling sound and a small shower of pebbles had me whipping my weapon to the left, my hand very nearly squeezing the trigger before I recognized the silhouette of another trooper. "Hey, that you, Sarge?" He whispered.

I drew in a shuddering breath, tried to calm my jangling nerves. "Mendez," I hissed "where's the rest of second squad?"

"Damned if I know, Sarge," the burly PFC replied, crouching down on one knee beside me for a moment's rest. He looked like some kind of space alien with the NVGs covering the upper half of his face, and I probably looked just as weird. "These fuckin' tunnels twist and turn all over the place. Can't see more than ten feet, most of the time. Easy to get separated," he added apologetically. "Any luck raising the CO?"

"No," I sighed "we're on our own for the moment, at least until they send someone after us." I fell silent, thinking, the gulp from my canteen already a fond memory. If we tried to bunch up again, the lizards would just drop more rocks on us. Two- or three-man teams? Might work. . . . I tapped my radio. "First squad."

Static.

"Second squad." . . . .Nothing.

I tried the other two squads with similar results. Damn it, they'd moved out of range already. "We need to move up," I murmured as I rose to my feet "get this show back on the road. I'll take point."

Mendez and I began to move forward as quietly as possible, myself in the lead. Mendez followed, the PFC spending most of his time walking backwards to scan our rear. It took only several minutes of squeezing between towering stalagmites and scrambling over rock-falls to get the sweat seeping into my eyes again, and I longed to yank the damned NVGs off and wipe the sweat clear. I'd already had to change batteries on the goggles once; running in IR mode took a lot of power, and I began to wonder if we'd manage to get out of here before we ran out of spares. Great; something else to worry about. Time seemed to stretch into an eternity, but it couldn't have been more than ten minutes later that we heard the crash of another rock-fall, followed moments later by several screams.

"Shit!" I picked up the pace, moving as quickly as I could towards the sounds of agony, Mendez close behind. My goggles picked up a bright flash up ahead, followed by an explosion that reverberated through the caverns as someone fired his weapon. More screams.

Move, move, MOVE! The caverns' stale, oxygen-poor air seared my lungs as we pounded forward. Behind me I could just make out Mendez quietly praying in his childhood Spanish, a prayer that choked off as we came skidding around yet another stone column and right into an abattoir.

It was an open space, larger than any we'd come across before, and evidently third squad had tried to use it to regroup. Now, blood oozed out from beneath a fresh rock-fall, and shredded bodies lay strewn all about in various postures of agonized death. Even as we slid to a halt a trooper was slumping to the ground as a glitter-scaled something leaped away from him, using his body as a springboard to pounce with eye-blurring speed upon the sole remaining third-squad soldier still on his feet. Some dark corner of myself was terribly glad I could not see the soldier's face as the barely man-sized creature batted his weapon aside, then sank the talons of its forepaws into his chest as its hind legs swung up and began ripping into the man's abdomen like a chainsaw.

It was an infant dragon. My God, we were being butchered by children!

Mendez screamed something unintelligible as he fired his weapon in almost the same instant I fired mine, the muzzle blasts lighting the space like high noon for an instant. One of the rounds went wide, I don't know whose, but the other went through the little dragon's right shoulder, decorating the stone columns behind it with a spray of blood and tissue and smashing the creature backwards, tearing it free of its victim and hurling it across the cavern floor.

There was one of those split-second pauses one sees in combat as the dragonet rolled to its feet and shook its head dazedly. One wing trailed limply in the mud, its shoulder joint smashed, and blood gushed down its right foreleg. Then the head came up, and lambent eyes met mine with an almost physical impact.

How beautiful.

Then the instant was gone. The dragonet snarled and leaped for our throats. Instantly I felt the stock of my rifle slam back into me, recoiling hard as both Mendez and myself fired and fired and fired, the heavy slugs swatting the creature out of the air and sending it tumbling backwards, bloody chunks being torn from its gleaming body as our weapons hosed it across the floor--

A nudge awakened me. Instantly my golden eyes snapped open to scan the dim room, but came up with nothing save for a trembling Ashadh. For a moment I stared at him blankly, then everything came back to me with a rush. I groaned and raised myself to my haunches, my mane jangling as I gave my head a savage shake to clear it. Damn it, I thought I'd seen the last of those blasted nightmares, or warnings, or whatever the hell they were.

Then my eye caught Ashadh again, saw his fear, and something else came back to me with stunning force. "You dreamt it too? It was you that I . . . that I. . . ."

Ashadh gave a piteous whine, almost a wail, and pressed hard against my side, still shivering violently. I hugged him gently, my heart like a piece of lead in my breast. A faint sound had me quickly looking to my right, to see my younger daughter standing there, closer to me than she had ever come without being coaxed, her quicksilver body shaking. "You too?" I murmured, gathering her to me, then looking to the nest to find my elder daughter awake and looking at me, her own eyes wide with fear. So; we were all there, in the darkness, fighting for our lives in any way we knew. Ancestors, how!?

I gave my head another shake, this time in bafflement. Then I looked down once again at my two children, and my thoughts began to ease as I gazed at them. My daughter lifted her head and her eyes met mine; the fear was there, but lessening. She gave a quiet croon and rubbed her head against me, and I felt something catch in my throat. I dropped my head, dragon senses drinking in her scent. Dear child, I will call you Dahiric, until you choose your own name. . . .

Dahiric could not have heard my silent thought, but her croon grew louder as she snuggled more tightly against me, and I allowed my form to grow larger until I could coil protectively around both of them. Eventually their movements slowed and they grew silent, and after awhile my elder daughter closed her eyes as well. I myself did not; I lay there, my head across my forelegs and facing the door, worrying at questions without apparent answers, my thoughts churning in futile circles as I waited for the dawn.

I marked morning when Fields opened the door from the sleeping quarters and came quietly into the room. He paused when he saw me and the still-sleeping dragonets coiled there on the floor, and he gave me a quizzical look. I responded with a small smile. "Bad dreams," I whispered. He lifted his head in understanding, his mouth forming a silent ah, then he nodded and headed for the kitchen, moving as quietly as he could.

He grabbed himself a quick bite to eat, then pulled on his gear and headed for the door. "I'll tell Wolfman to take it easy on the way in," he whispered to me as he eased the front door open.

A slight stirring had me lifting my head at that point, turning to see three sets of gleaming eyes open and watching the Special Ops trooper. I chuckled. "Don't bother," I replied in a more normal voice, "I don't think there's a human alive that could sneak past these kids."

Fields looked at my children, and grinned. "Bet you Luce could," he replied, still whispering, then headed out the door and into the dim light of early morning.

Yeah; knowing Lucifer, I bet he could at that. I chuckled again, yawned, then lay my head back down to drowse until a more sensible hour.

The small group of elk moved warily across the forested slope, their breath rising like steam in the still mountain air as they waded through the powdery snow. Occasionally, they would pause, several digging with a foreleg, searching for something to eat beneath the thick white blanket while others stood watch for the predators they knew lurked in these mountains.

They never looked up, however. . . . I let my weight shift forward, allowed myself to topple off the high tree branch, falling, my wings unfurled just enough to keep me stable as I rapidly swelled from hawk-size to the mass of a Kodiak bear, dropping straight for the big old elk cow foraging directly beneath me.

I think she heard something at the last instant, for she started to raise her head, but it was far too late as I slammed down atop her with crushing force, driving her body deep into the snow with a muffled CRUNCH. Stunned or already dead, the cow offered no resistance as I reached down with a handful of gleaming talons and ripped out her throat, her life's blood spraying out onto the snow, quickly ebbing to nothing.

I drew a shuddering breath and quickly looked around. The other members of the herd were scattering, bounding off into the forest just as fast as they could go. I glanced down at my kill, a twinge of regret touching my heart as I sent an apology to the old cow's spirit, then allowed myself to expand to full size. Picking up the carcass in my jaws I sprang upwards, my wings booming as they caught at the air and I lifted my catch toward home.

I really liked those weekends in the mountains. . . .

The front door swung open as I landed in front of the ranch house, and a smiling Stefan let the three dragonets come bounding out into the snow, their scales a dazzling glitter in the sunlight as they made a beeline for the carcass I dropped at my feet. Before I could even catch my breath they were tearing into the kill, ripping free great chunks of meat and gobbling them down as I sat back on my haunches to watch. I shook my head in amused wonder. "Why the hell don't they get a bellyache from eating so fast?"

The agent chuckled quietly, his hands spreading wide. "That I cannot answer, my Lord. One of the talents of extreme youth, I suppose." He fell silent, studying the children as they ripped and tore. "They grow quickly, my Lord."

I blinked and looked at the kids, then felt my eyes widen as realization set in. "Ancestors, you're right. About twenty, twenty-five kilos apiece?"

". . . .Perhaps a bit more than that, my Lord."

I stared at Dithra's agent, my eyes growing unfocused for a moment as I did some quick math. "Good grief. Stefan, please tell me they'll slow down soon, otherwise they're each going to get as big as . . . as big as a . . . . Damn it, nothing's that big!"

Stefan chuckled again, this time at my expression. "Do not worry, my Lord; they will indeed slow down after a while, although no dragon ever quite stops growing in size." He gave the dragonets another measuring glance, his eyebrows rising in response to the conclusion he came to. "But I think they will indeed by quite large by the time they leave this stage within the next year. Perhaps ten meters, perhaps a bit more."

I felt my lower jaw sagging slightly. "Ten-- Stefan, do you mean to tell me that my kids are going to more than triple in size within a year!?"

Stefan's head tilted to one side for a moment in thought, but finally he nodded. "At least that, my Lord, perhaps more." He paused, then added, almost apologetically "They are very robust, my Lord, and are already unusually large for their age."

I bent my head to stare at my children. Already the elk was more than half-devoured, bones scattered everywhere. All three were growing sated, with Ashadh pausing to lick some of the mess from his scales. Incredible. Why would they grow so quickly, this early on? Predators? Ridiculous! What predator in its right mind would-- My head jerked upwards at a sudden thought.

"My Lord?"

"Hm?" I blinked, looked back at the agent. "Um, something just occurred to me. . . ." It would explain much, but I need more info, and the only person I know that could provide it is. . . . "Stefan, I need to go talk to someone." I concentrated for a moment, and the sphere of the Lung appeared before me with its usual snap. "I'll be gone for about three or four hours. No," I responded as I saw him tense "it doesn't have anything to do with our security. There's no threat, but I have to--"

Suddenly Ashadh was there, his leaping form gleaming in the winter sunlight as he playfully swatted at the sphere, knocking it across the clearing. I cut off with a squawk as he went bounding after it, tackling the glowing globe in a spray of flying snow, wrapping his forelegs around it and looking back at me playfully.

Time slowed to a crawl. Both Stefan and I lunged after my son, Stefan to pull up, white-faced, as he remembered what would happen if he touched the sphere. Alone I charged forward, watching the sphere sense my son's heritage and immediately resize itself to his smaller form. Ashadh looked at the sphere for a puzzled instant, then, seeing me coming and mistaking my intent to be a game of chase, grabbed the sphere in his jaws and leaped to his feet. There he paused, his eyes growing confused, distant. . . .

"ASHADH! NOOOO!" I leaped, one outstretched hand grabbing for my son--

Snap.

It was as if the universe had turned itself inside-out. One instant I was leaping through dazzling winter sunlight, the next I was drowning in darkness.

Literally drowning.

I opened my mouth in shock, and immediately icy water rammed itself down my throat, striving with an almost sentient malice to flood my lungs. I coughed and thrashed, forced myself to slam my jaws shut on the reflexive coughing fit that would have emptied me of what little air I had left. Suddenly I realized I had my eyes closed, and forced them open to peer into the large, water-filled space about me, lit from somewhere by a dim, silvery glow.

Air. I needed air! Frantically I looked about, but could not find the surface. Panic threatened, but then I remembered what an Army diver had once told me. A moment's searching revealed a small swarm of bubbles flowing past to my right-rear. Desperately I followed them, my body's steely armor dragging at me.

An eternity later my head broke surface, followed less than a second later by my skull slamming into solid rock. Lights flared behind my eyes and I started to sink again, inhaling water instead of air. I coughed, wheezed, then shook off the impact, ignoring the pain to look about me. I found myself in a pocket of air slightly higher than the top of my head, trapped beneath a broad, gently curving ceiling of stone. There was no sign of my son.

"Ashadh!" I shouted, looking wildly about, my ears ringing with the echoes the stone mockingly flung back at me. My heart squeezed itself into a small, painful lump when I realized he hadn't surfaced. Gulping a deep breath of air, I yanked my head back under and dove downward into the cold, crystal-clear water, my eyes searching for a small, scaled form. Aided by my armor, it didn't take me long to reach bottom. Frantically I searched, finding nothing but sand and stone. Finally I swam toward where that dim, silvery glow seemed to be coming from, a strange familiarity nagging me from the edge of my thoughts.

The glow swiftly grew brighter, resolved itself into two separate sources. One was fairly bright, the other was much dimmer, seemingly obscured by something. That something turned out to be some sort of pagoda-like structure sitting on the bottom, its roof held up by a series of elaborately-carved stone columns. I didn't bother to examine it though, as a muffled thrashing sound came to my ears from within the structure.

I rocketed forward, spotting the sphere of the Lung hovering between two of the outer columns and seizing it with my left hand as I went past, homing in on the thrashing, my body already beginning to cry out for air. Within, I passed more ranks of stone columns, that second glow growing stronger, at last resolving into another sphere of the Lung, hovering in the exact center of the building, just above a shallow, bowl-shaped depression set into the stone floor.

The thrashing seemed to be coming from overhead. I looked up, and found another air pocket partially filling the upper reaches of the pagoda's peaked stone roof. Ashadh was there, paddling madly to keep his head above water, and not succeeding very well as his own armor worked to drag him under. Jamming the sphere I held into my mouth I launched myself upward. Even as I reached for him I could see his frantic thrashings slowing as he began to exhaust himself and he started to slowly sink, then my hands closed on him and I thought hard on a small ranch house lost somewhere in snow-covered mountains. . . .

Snap.

Brilliant sunlight stabbed into my eyes. Dazzled, my feet out of position, I hit the ground hard, reflexively hugging a screaming Ashadh to my breast as snow flew and water splashed all about us. It took a few seconds for my son to realize who he was clawing wildly at, and my scales collected a few more scars before he subsided, trembling violently.

Human voices shouted to one side and I rolled to my feet, still cradling Ashadh in one arm as I blinked painfully, waiting for my eyes to once again adjust. Eventually I could make out the ranch house roughly thirty meters away, and several people hurrying toward us, a pale Stefan in the lead, followed by Lucifer and Wolfman, both troopers loaded for bear and scanning for targets. "My Lord! What happened? Are you well? Is Ashadh--"

<We're fine, we're fine. . . .> I soothed Dithra's agitated agent, then paused to remove the sphere from my jaws. "A little shaken up, but no permanent damage, I think." Half-absently I gave my head a shake to settle out my mane, gave vent to a quiet but heartfelt curse, then bent my long neck to give my son a severe look. "I have to admit, however, that I'm tempted to change that last part. Well, young one? Now do you understand what I mean when I say 'Don't touch?'"

Ashadh twitched at my tone and looked up into my face, his eyes wide with shock and apprehension. Abruptly he ducked his head and butted it against my breast again and again, his ragged croon almost a whine. He was sorry, he was sorry, he was sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry!

I blinked and gave my head another shake, then looked back at my motley crew. "Let's get him inside."

It took several hours for Ashadh to recover from our close call, but recover he did, finally curling up in the nest amidst his siblings and falling into a much-needed sleep. Later, Stefan and I sat around the table and discussed what had occurred. Several of the guys kibitzed, much to Stefan's annoyance. "I really don't get it," I continued. "From what I've figured out about the sphere, you have to be able to accurately hold the image of your destination in your head for its transport mechanism to work. If you've never been there, or you don't get the details right, nothing happens. How in the hell did we end up in that-- that place?"

Stefan frowned for a long moment, finally gestured bafflement. Then Fields spoke up. "Maybe it's some sort of default destination. Maybe when you grab the ball or whatever it is and just think go, that's where you end up." Stefan gave the Special Ops man a quelling glance, but Fields continued. "Sorry Stefan, but don't you think it makes sense? If you're up to your ass in alligators and you need to get out of somewhere right now, you might not have time to think up some nice picture of where you want to go. So, an emergency exit."

That glance had become a glare, but everybody ignored Dithra's agent as I scratched the tip of my lower jaw, my talons making a grating noise against my scales as I thought. "An emergency exit," I echoed. "You're right; it does make sense, if only from a military or intelligence standpoint. . . . Stefan, did the Lung think that way? Along the lines of rigging escape routes for themselves?"

Stefan grimaced, then once again signaled ignorance. "I'm sorry, my Lord, but I have no idea. I will say, however, that the Lung were extremely secretive in their ways, so perhaps something like this would not be too unlikely."

Spoken like a true spook. I gave Stefan a wry look, then went on. "All right, so what would be the most likely destination for such an escape hatch? A safe house? A regional center?"

"HQ." I again looked up at Fields, and he shrugged. "Why not? The way you describe it, that ball of yours can take you anywhere in the blink of an eye, so why waste your time with safe houses and stuff? Just go right back home."

"Headquarters," I mused. "Makes sense, but security-- no, everyone I've asked tells me only the Lung can use this thing." I held up the object in question. It glowed softly, vague streamers of various colors seeming to ripple and weave just beneath the surface, seemingly oblivious to being the center of attention.

"Its touch is death for all but those possessing the blood of the Lung, yes, my Lord," Stefan reaffirmed. "This is a known fact. Many dragons have tried to control a sphere of the Lung, to make its power their own. All have died."

"Well, that takes care of perimeter security," I grunted, "you just might've seized the prey-- hit the nail on the head, Fields." Jeez; I need some two-legged time. . . . "But, it strikes me that it's a rather soggy sanctuary, at best."

"Drainage? Maybe the water table rose." This from Deebs. "If nobody's been home for awhile, could be something broke and there wasn't anyone to fix it. Hell, maybe somebody left the water running in the bathtub."

We all chuckled at that, myself included. "Well, whatever the place is, there's another sphere of the Lung there, so I'm afraid we're going to have to take a look around, and secure that sphere at the very least." I fell silent for a moment, thinking. "Deebs, that workshop you've set up in the barn, does it have an oxy-acetylene rig?"

Deebs blinked. "Um, yeah, but--"

"Good. I'd like to borrow the oxygen cylinder, and that old plastic water tank out back, if we can saw one end of it off. . . ."

Deebs made a slow-down gesture with his hands. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Are you talkin' of makin' some weird kind of scuba rig?"

I shrugged elaborately. "Well I certainly can't wear a human rig, not and control a sphere at the same time. Besides, there was a lot of what looked to be some sort of carvings on those pillars. Could be they might be able to tell me something about how to use this." Again, I hefted the sphere, then left it there, parked in midair. Stefan shifted uneasily, doubtlessly at its nearness to him. "Damn; I really wish this thing came with an instruction manual. . . ."

"You try hittin' the F1 key?"

I froze, then slowly lifted my eyes to peer at Grease. "Do what!?"

"Hit the F1 key. You know, like on a PC, when you're playin' a game and you get stuck and want to pop up the help window. . . ." He squirmed a bit, his smile fading under the combined stares of both human and inhuman eyes. "Hey look, it was just a joke, okay?"

"The F1 key," I murmured, my eyes going out of focus. . . .

. . . .I stood there, staring at her tensely coiled form, my mind searching for a solution. Suddenly it came to me, and I immediately knew it came from some outside source, for it contained things that I had not thought possible, never conceived of before. . . .

I blinked, then blinked again. Finally I groaned and dropped my head to the table with a loud thud, my eyes tightly shut. "Stefan?"

". . . .Yes, my Lord?"

"I am an idiot."

". . . .My Lord?"

I drew in a deep breath, fought the urge to flame the whole damned room, finally let the air out in a huge sigh. "Never mind; it's just something else I need to look into. . . ." I trailed off, turning my head to look out the front window. The sky had gone from a dazzling blue to a featureless gray, and my dragon senses brought to me an unmistakable scent. Yet another winter storm was coming, probably sometime tonight. "Well, it's getting a little late to mess with that tank today, plus it looks like we're going to get some more snow. We can wait till tomorrow on this." Slowly I rose to all-fours, allowed myself the luxury of a long, hard stretch, then gave the throw-rug I'd recently placed in front of the stove a fond look. "Whose turn is it to cook dinner?"

"Ah, yours, my Lord."

Well, hell. . . .

Shortly after a passable evening meal, the shortwave spat out another set of code words. A few hours later there was the usual thump, followed after several seconds by Kaa'saht shuffling through the front door.

I lifted my head from the throw-rug, gestured my greetings. "Another meeting, Kaa'saht?" I asked wryly.

Kaa'saht gave me his diffident smile and bowed respectfully. "Yes, my Lord, I'm afraid so." Stefan chose that moment to come drifting in; Kaa'saht took a moment to gesture his respects to him before continuing. "It is to be held tomorrow morning, and Lady Dithra has asked for your presence again. She says this meeting is quite important, my Lord."

I nodded. "She said as much after the last meeting," I confirmed, then smiled. "Could be we're getting to the end of this mess." I changed the subject as I glanced out the window. "Seems you've visited us with a storm nipping at your tail again. Will you be staying over this time?"

Kaa'saht smiled again, a bit broader this time. "Yes, my Lord, I will," the smile faded "but I'm sorry to say that the reason for my staying may bring someone whom I respect a measure of distress."

He then turned back to Dithra's senior agent. "My Lord Stefan, Lady Dithra has asked that I forward to you a personal message." Kaa'saht bowed to me again. "My Lord, may we be excused?"

I hesitated, but then gestured assent. The young dragon murmured his thanks, then asked Stefan into a different room. Stefan glanced at me, a faint trace of puzzlement on his usually impassive face, then silently led the young dragon out. They returned several minutes later, Stefan's expression stiff and slightly pale. He came directly over to me, and bowed. "My Lord, I understand you will be leaving in the morning. May I beg you for transportation?"

I blinked in surprise. Stefan hated hitching rides with me. The process left some of those who traveled with me via the sphere quite rattled, and more than a little queasy. (After my little Nantucket sleigh-ride with Ashadh, I was beginning to understand why.) It had to be something quite important for him to volunteer for another ride. "Stefan? What's wrong?"

Stefan hesitated, grimaced, then made the draconic gesture indicating something trivial. "A personal matter, my Lord; it does not affect anything we are doing, but I must leave for a short time, two days at the most." I felt my eyes widen with concern, but Dithra's agent anticipated me. "Young Kaa'saht will be here, my Lord, as will your men." Another pause. "My Lord, if you believe the risk is too great, I will of course remain here."

My eyes cut over to where Kaa'saht waited, and almost asked if he were up to it. I stopped myself before voicing the insult, however, reminding myself how much the young dragon had already endured for us, and that Stefan would never have made the suggestion if he had any doubts as to Kaa'saht's abilities. Finally, I gestured reluctant assent. "Very well; we leave at first light." I then raised my head, fixed Kaa'saht with a gimlet eye. "I expect you to make regular check-ins. Get with Wolfman, and he'll help you set something up."

Eyes wide, and evidently a little worried by the amount of responsibility we were dumping on him, Kaa'saht bowed deeply. Seeing his distress, I eased-up a bit. "Don't worry young Kaa'saht; it is indeed a large thing, but you will have good people with you. Talk with Lucifer if you have any doubts about anything."

"Yes, my Lord. Thank you, my Lord."

Later that night, I finally gave up on trying to sleep and opened my eyes to scan the dim room. Everybody had by now gone to get some shut-eye except for Grease, who was out on patrol. The kids were asleep as well, curled up in their little nest in the corner. I desperately needed some sleep myself; the pace of the past several weeks were weighing heavily on me and beginning to muck-up my thinking, but with a quiet sigh I got up and padded outside, then had the sphere materialize before me with its usual snap.

Reaching up, I plucked it from the air and held it before me, stared into its swirling depths for a long time. "Damn you, I have to know," I hissed to the thing at last, then placed the sphere between my jaws.

That strange, but not-unwelcome feeling of connectedness came over me again, and I could feel it expanding to encompass the immediate area, then further, but I ignored it. Instead, I tried to remember what my frame of mind had been, back in that hellish place that Niata had dragged me to in her bid for power, back when I was searching for an answer to a question. . . .

. . . .Maybe you should try hitting the F1 key. . . .

Suddenly it was back, that strange feeling that someone was behind me, watching me. Reflexively I looked back, once again found nothing there. Information came flooding in. It was a different question, but the knowledge came nonetheless, pouring into my mind like a torrent of icy water. I blinked, momentary stunned by the sudden influx, then, tentatively, used that knowledge.

For a long second, I thought I had failed once again. Then there was a flicker, then another. Abruptly a silvery glow flared into life around me, riming my metallic scales with frost flowers of light as I felt the power of the sphere smoothly harness itself to my will.

I held that incredible power to myself for perhaps a minute, then I released it. The glow guttered and died, and I let the sphere slip free from my jaws as my body sagged heavily to the snowy ground, my eyes burning with unshed tears. "I'm so sorry, Mink," I whispered into the darkness "so very sorry. I didn't figure it out in time. I was too damned stupid to figure it out in time, and I got you killed for it. Ah, God, Ancestors, I'm so sorry. . . ."

At last I banished the sphere and returned to the house, returned to the place on my throw-rug and coiled there, the heat from the stove no longer comforting. I closed my eyes, prayed for the oblivion of sleep.

It was a long time in coming.

"My Lord?"

I dragged open a leaden eyelid, to see Stefan standing over me, Kaa'saht hovering nearby. "My Lord, it's time to go," He said quietly, his face grave.

I sighed, then lifted my head to look at the clock. Less than two hours of sleep; I wasn't going to be worth a damn, today. "All right," I levered myself to my feet with a grunt, slowly padded over to the nest to check on the kids. Ashadh was awake, albeit barely, and crooned sleepily as I gently touched his head. A certain tightness in my breast seemed to ease at that sound, and I felt the corners of my hard mouth trying to turn up into a gentle smile. "Gotta leave for a little bit," I said softly "but I'll be back soon, and we'll go play in the snow. All right?" Ashadh gave another croon, and sank back into sleep. I then checked on Dahiric, found both her and her elder sister still asleep.

Turning away, I gestured to the other two dragons and we headed out the front door and into the still-solid darkness. Once clear of the house, I allowed myself to expand to roughly pony-size, the sphere of the Lung materializing next to me. I grasped it, looked to Kaa'saht. "Don't let my kids out of your sight," I repeated needlessly.

Kaa'saht blinked, then bowed. "I will not, Lord Hasai."

I looked at him for a moment, then tucked the sphere between my jaws and held my hand out to Dithra's agent. <Ready, Stefan?> I sent.

Stefan looked at my offered hand for a long moment, then, visibly steeling himself, reached out and gripped it. "Ready, my Lord," he sighed.

I nodded, then closed my eyes and concentrated on the image of a huge stone Gothic affair of a house far away to the east. . . .

Snap.

Instantly we found ourselves exactly where I expected to be, standing on the pavement before Dithra's abode, the first tinges of dawn starting to touch the eastern sky. All four of my feet settled firmly upon the hard surface, but Stefan lurched and went down on one knee. I took the sphere out of my mouth, then turned my head and looked at him. "You all right?" I rumbled.

Eyes shut and his face quite pale, Stefan gave a short nod. "A few moments, my Lord. I'll be fine."

I studied him for a moment more, then decided that any offer of help would just embarrass the former Stasi agent even further. I nodded. "I'll be inside." Turning away, I sent the sphere back to its ancient resting place beneath a sandstone cliff, then once again endured the pain of my bones bending into different shapes. I gave a small shiver as icy clothing settled about my shoulders, then shook it off and went to see Dithra.

As always, the Lady met me in the foyer. "Dear Hasai, how are you this morning?" she smiled, her eyes sparkling.

"In dire need of a cup of coffee, my Lady," I chuckled tiredly, then paused, studying the Eldest. "You seem to be in an especially good mood today. Good news, I take it?"

"Indeed, young one, very good news," she replied, her smile broadening as we headed for the dining room, where T'ress awaited us with a full pot of coffee. "This very day, we shall begin our negotiations with the Naatahn clan." She paused, her eyes watching me expectantly.

I gave her a wry smile, gestured ignorance as I seated myself before an already-poured cup, the steam arising from it carrying an aroma that even my dull human senses could appreciate. "I'm sorry, my Lady, but . . ."

"'What is the Naatahn clan?'" Dithra smiled again, sipped her coffee, then tilted her head thoughtfully, searching for a simple way to explain dragon power-politics to the ignorant dunce sitting across the table from her. "It is a very large, very powerful faction," she said at last. "Several members of the current Council are represented by it. If we succeed in bringing it over to our side. . . ."

". . . .You'll bring the balance of power back into our favor?"

"Yes, you have it," Dithra smiled at her not-so dense pupil.

"To the point of toppling Ahnkar?"

Her smile faded slightly. "No; not yet, dear one, but it will paralyze both him and Ksstha, forcing them to rely upon their own resources rather than use the Council's. Soon, however, we will. . . . Stefan, what are you doing here?"

I blinked at Dithra's tone, lowered my cup and turned to see Stefan standing in the doorway. The agent frowned. "My Lady?" he began slowly "I received your message."

Dithra set down her own cup, then placed both hands, palm down, to either side of her place setting as if she were about to launch herself across the table at her agent. Seeing her expression, alarm bells were beginning to ring in my head. Loudly. "And what message was that?" she asked in a brittle voice.

The frown was fading from Stefan's face, slowly being replaced with an expression of alarm. "The . . . private message you had Kaa'saht relay to me, regarding my elders, my Lady. Did you not. . . ?"

Dithra came to her feet with such abruptness that a teaspoon went bouncing across the table, her movement very nearly as fast as my own. "I sent word of the Naatahn clan meeting with Kaa'saht; nothing more."

My head snapped around, my eyes meeting Stafan's. "Contact the site," I clipped. "We'll be in the main hall." Stefan nodded shortly and bolted from the room, and I moved to follow.

"Hasai! What occurs?" Dithra asked sharply.

Stupid dragon! my human half snarled, What the hell do you think? But I bit down on the retort and turned to face the ancient dragoness. "My Lady, it's possible that we've been betrayed," I replied, my voice surprisingly level. "There's no reason Kaa'saht would pass such a false message, unless he wanted both Stefan and I away from the site at the same time, and the only reason I can see for him wanting that is so he can have the opportunity to steal my children." With that, I spun on my heel and left the room, my pace not a run, but not far from it. Behind me, I heard Dithra snarl something in the language of the dragons, then come hurrying after me.

By the time Dithra and I reached the main hallway I was already back on all-fours. I summoned the sphere, and it snapped into existence by my right shoulders where I quickly grabbed it in my talons. Ten seconds later, Stefan came running into the room. "There is no answer," he hissed.

I snarled an oath and jammed the sphere between my jaws, my other hand reaching out to grip Stefan's arm while I tried to envision the ranch house.

"Hasai! Take me with you!"

My head whipped around, mane jangling as my eyes sought Dithra's. <No, my Lady, you must stay here> I returned. <You have the Naatahn ambassador to deal with, plus that young dragoness in the dining room who has heard far too much. If word gets out. . . .>

Dithra had started violently at the unexpected mode of communication but quickly recovered, her eyes a bit wide. "Yes, of course. Praise the Ancestors, at least one of us is thinking clearly." She made a quick, shooing gesture. "Go Hasai. Go!"

Snap.

Instantly, Dithra's hallway was replaced by the swirling gray chaos of the promised winter storm. Beside me Stefan lurched but kept his feet this time, while I felt my own sinking deeply into new-fallen snow. Commando weather. My human side was right, if not in the way I'd expected. Although it was less than thirty meters away, I had a moment's difficulty finding the ranch house in the tiny amount of predawn light that managed to penetrate the clouds boiling overhead. Finally I spotted it and hurried toward it, Stefan stumbling along behind.

Something had already happened here; the front door was gone, it and most of the surrounding wood framing ripped away from the building, pieces scattered across the front porch. Through the ragged opening a thread of black smoke drifted, to be immediately shredded to nothingness by the icy wind.

No. . . . Hissing in alarm, I charged into the battered house, my talons making clattering noises on the wooden floor as I entered the main room and spun about, seeing the empty nest, the smashed and smoking ruins of the communications gear, the splintered furniture. I sent Stefan to search the kitchen area, then went to check the sleeping quarters--

--Only to have the door facing explode into a cloud of deadly splinters about my head as a hailstorm of heavy-caliber military rounds came blasting out of the adjoining room. With a strangled squawk I threw myself backwards, away from the doorway, almost losing my footing as I fought to get my momentum back under control. I tried to shout something, then cursed myself as fifteen kinds of fool as I paused to yank the sphere from my jaws. "Don't shoot, you idiots! It's me!"

There was a deadly pause, then Field's voice came echoing from the opening. "Advance and be recognized," he said tightly.

Stefan had come running back and now was crouching in the kitchen entrance, his Makarov out and searching the main room for targets. I gave him a silent stay put gesture with one hand, then turned back to the doorway to the back rooms. Clipped-off by the fusillade, several strands of my mane lay gleaming in the opening. At my current size, those G-3s could quite literally cut me in half. I swallowed, gripped the sphere in my hand in case I needed a quick getaway, then gingerly peered around the edge of the door frame. Inside, several pieces of furniture and various items of equipment had been thrown together into a hasty barricade, behind which two of my men crouched, their weapons trained on me. Long seconds ticked past, then Fields said a single word. "Number."

I let my breath in a gust of relief, banished the sphere, then gave the countersign. "Solution," I replied, and the soldiers relaxed slightly. Fields got to his feet and stepped around the barricade, his weapon still ready but no longer pointed at me. "Okay, Sarge, just what in the hell's going on around here?" he snapped.

"I was hoping you would tell me," I rumbled, "What happened? Where's the kids?"

"I don't know; it all happened pretty damned fast, and most of us were still asleep," the Special Ops trooper replied, his eyes warily scanning the area behind me. "Grease was just coming in after being relieved by Luce, when all of a sudden all hell breaks loose. Some dragon that looked a lot like you somehow got into the front room and started smashing stuff. Grease managed to get off a few rounds, but Kaa'saht and the other critter took him down. He gave us enough time, though, to be ready for them when they tried to come in after us. We fought them off, then we heard the front door getting smashed, and then nothing. You showed up. . . hell, it hasn't been more than five minutes. It's a flaming miracle you didn't run into them."

I heard the sound of talons slicing deep into the wooden floor, closed my eyes for a moment to regain control. "Grease?" I said at last.

"He's banged-up pretty bad," Fields turned, and I followed him around the barricade, still manned by a grim-looking Deebs, to where Grease lay upon the floor, Wolfman kneeling next to him. Blood-soaked bandages swathed his right shoulder, left leg, and most of his left arm. Blood smeared the floor all around him and his skin was the color of dirty dishwater, but his eyes were open. "Hey Max," he panted, grinning feebly "you missed the party."

Oh, God. . . . I looked up at Wolfman, who nodded. I turned back to the wounded soldier. "Who was it, Grease?" I rumbled.

He gave his head a sharp shake. "Dunno; for a second I thought it was you, but they-- your look-alike and Kaa'saht-- they were tearing the place up." Grease paused, panting with the effort, then continued. "Sorry, Max; I tried, but I couldn't stop them."

"My Lord? Are you--" I turned my head at the voice, found Stefan frozen in the doorway, staring down the business end of Deeb's heavy assault rifle. The Texan's lips skinned back from his teeth as he glared at Dithra's agent through the gun sight, and I could almost feel his trigger finger tightening.

"Deebs, don't," I said quietly "he's on our side."

"Oh, yeah? Like his buddy was?" Deebs snarled, all trace of his normal humor gone. "Fuck 'em! Kill all these bastards!" Grudgingly, though, he did lower his weapon.

A slightly-pale Stefan took a moment to warily scan the room's remaining occupants, then turned back to me. "My Lord, what has happened?"

"Pasqual, that's what happened. She's back, and she took the kids. Kaa'saht has betrayed us." Stefan's face went white. I sighed, let my head sag, the feeling of defeat overwhelming. "We only missed them by a few minutes."

The agent's eyes narrowed. "Then we must pursue them!" Immediately he spun on his heel and bolted from the room.

"Stefan, there's no point," I called after him. "They're miles away from here by now, and we have to get Grease to a hospital."

"No, my Lord! You don't understand!" Stefan almost-shouted as he came rushing back. "No dragon could fly in this weather! Perhaps a Lung, yes, but not Kaa'saht, and certainly not with your children! They must be fleeing on foot!"

My head came up with a jerk. I whipped around, started to follow Stefan out the door, but then paused and gave Grease an agonized look. He grinned at my expression, his eyes wide with pain. "Go, man; I can hang," he called. "Nail that son of a bitch Kaa'saht!"

I looked at the battered trooper for an instant more, then nodded. "Right," I rumbled, then turned to Fields. "Secure the house and perimeter. We'll be right back." Not waiting for a response, I charged from the room.

By the time my feet hit the snow outside Stefan had shed his human guise, summoned that green-glowing torque dragons use to speak to humans, and was working the area around the building, nose held low to the snow, his tail lashing with barely-controlled rage. I immediately went to the side opposite him, my body rapidly expanding to its normal size as I sniffed at the ground. My tail also lashed with agitation, but within me there also burned a wild, almost irrational hope as I searched. . . .

"My Lord!"

Instantly I turned, my talons churning the snow as I leaped in pursuit of Stefan as he bolted up the slope and into the forest, following the scent he had detected. Immediately the gloom of the forest closed over us, and visibility improved slightly as the howling wind was broken by the trees. The snow was still coming down fast, but I could still make out disturbances in the white blanket before us. Something large had passed this way not long before.

Up the mountain we went, plunging through the deepening drifts, my breath soon coming in tearing gasps as my body strained to maintain a pace it was ill-suited for. Stefan stopped from time to time, dropping his snout to the snow to re-orient himself. I sniffed as well, found faint traces of Kaa'saht, perhaps Ashadh, and another, unfamiliar, female scent. Pasqual. So; I have your true scent at last, I thought, burning the scent into my memory as Stefan charged forward once again.

Higher and higher the trail led, angling to one side of the peak now, possibly aiming for a mountain pass that led out of the canyon in which the ranch house lay. We were in the clans' patrol areas now, and a new worry began to creep over me as I thought of the opportunity we were presenting if they detected us. Pathetic, hissed my human half, the entire race teetering on the brink of extinction, and all they can think of is power. A pause, then, grudgingly, Then again, how is that different from what most humans would do? Is all supposedly-intelligent life so worthy of contempt? I shook my head, forced myself to the task at hand, which was following Stefan's tail through the dark pines. It was not as easy a task as one might think; half-blinded by snow, his green and black-mottled scales blending into the surroundings, only his personal scent kept me from losing him several times.

The trees grew smaller, the storm wilder the higher we went, intensifying to near-whiteout conditions as the wind began to pick up already-fallen snow and hurl it about. Clear membranes slid down over my eyes, protecting them from the ice crystals being blasted against us. Stefan was moving more slowly now, stopping more often to find the scent as the storm worked to obliterate the trail. Finally he ground to a halt. "I've lost them!" he shouted above the roar of the wind.

My heart froze into a lump of solid ice. I shouldered him aside, buried my snout into the snow and breathed in. Loam, trees, stone, ice. . . . Something? No; just my fevered imagination. The scents were gone, swept away by the storm.

The storm! my human half yelped. Damn it, it's so convenient, it can't be natural! You idiot, you're facing another Lung! I blinked, then cursing myself for a fool, I summoned the sphere. It popped into existence before me, its usual snap ripped away by the wind. I grabbed the softly glowing sphere and jammed it into my mouth, my mind reaching for its power almost before connection was made. Stefan sprang aside, hissing in shock as a nimbus of silvery light flared into being around my body. I swung my head up, staring into the sky, at last seeing the lines of power that both bound and fed the storm as all of my fear and rage exploded out of me in a mental command consisting of a single word.

<Enough!>

Stefan grunted as if slugged in the gut and toppled to the ground, clutching at his head in pain. Above me the clouds seemed to convulse, churn, then began to shred apart as the lines of power shattered into a shower of bright sparks that quickly faded. The wind began to drop almost immediately, its dying wail failing to hide a distant howl of agony from somewhere up ahead.

Pasqual. Instantly I headed for the sound, the snow kicked aside in a spray of white by my churning legs, leaving poor Stefan to once again recover on his own as I plunged through the trees. It wasn't very far; scarcely a mile separated where we had lost the trail and our quarry, but that would been more than enough with the storm, whose clouds had dissolved to the point of letting through the light of early morning by the time I came upon what was more a thinning of the trees than a small clearing. In the snow a large dragon with scales the blue-silver-grey of polished gunsteel lay groaning while another, smaller dragon stood by helplessly.

<That's far enough,> I sent, the thought crackling with cold anger. Both of them froze, then the smaller dragon, his scales a striking blue-black in color with dark green markings, spun around while the one on the ground slowly wobbled to her feet, golden cat's eyes blinking as she tried to focus them on me. I studied her long, sinuous, glittering form for a long moment; I knew she was just as beautiful as ever, but at the moment I was having trouble finding that beauty. I swung my gaze back to the other dragon. <Kaa'saht, you have much to answer for.>

Kaa'saht flinched at the voice in his head, his eyes widening as he gazed at the silvery nimbus about me and realized what it meant. Before he could stammer out a reply I was distracted by a happy yelp, and around Pasqual's armored bulk a pair of small, gleaming shapes came bounding across the snow, heading for me until a hiss from Pasqual brought them up short. Ashadh and Dahiric began to mill about confusedly, glancing back and forth between myself and their mother.

Wait; where was--

"Kaa'saht!" I jumped, then whipped my head around to see Stefan come boiling up the trail I'd left him, eyes locked on his traitorous agent. From his jaws came a long series of hisses, clicks, and snarls, indecipherable to me, but perfectly understandable to Kaa'saht, who cringed away from Stefan's onrushing form, his eyes darting about as he frantically sought to escape. Abruptly he spread his wings--

<Hold!> I snarled, the nimbus flaring about me with my anger. Stefan missed his footing and plowed headfirst into the snow. Pasqual, still none-too steady from my savage destruction of her storm, lurched and very nearly fell over again. Kaa'saht, about to spring into the air, froze, blinked, then very slowly began to pull his wings back in as he stared at me with something in his eyes that might have been terror. Both Ashadh and Dahiric squawked and fell, limbs flailing. I winced at their cries, then turned back to Stefan as I fought to bring my emotions back into check. <The one known as Kaa'saht is mine, Stefan. You will not touch him until I give you permission to do so. Do you understand?>

Stefan righted himself and sat up, giving his head a vicious shake to fling the clinging snow away from his face. His eyes were glittering with rage, but then they met mine. After several long moments that rage began to subside to a calmer, more controllable fury, and at last he bowed in submission. "Yes, my Lord," he croaked, his voice harsh with emotion.

I studied him for a second, then turned back to Pasqual. <Where is our elder daughter?> I demanded.

Both Pasqual and Kaa'saht blinked, then turned to look at each other, and a sick feeling began to creep over me. At last Pasqual began to answer, in the hisses and clicks of the draconic language.

<English, damn you!> All the other dragons in the clearing started violently, stared at me as I struggled to control myself. Finally, Pasqual slowly moved to place a single talon upon her breast. A pause, then a torque similar to Stefan's flared into being about the base of her neck, its normal green color mottled with flecks of sky blue. Protection from my disruptor spell? My eyes flicked to her right for an instant to see Kaa'saht moving to follow suit.

"My Lord, I--" my mate's faltering voice cut off, and Pasqual's golden eyes slid away from mine and closed for a second, as if she were gathering her strength. Finally she looked back to me. "My Lord Hasai, our daughter is no more," she said at last.

I stared at her, frozen, a hollow roaring that had nothing to do with any storm beginning in my ears. <That's bullshit,> I ground out. <What did you do with her?> My mane jangled as I looked about, my eyes frantically searching the edges of the clearing. <Damn you, if you've lost her to the clans-->

"My Lord, no!" Pasqual settled back onto her haunches, her head sinking lower as she sought to calm me with her posture. "My Lord, please; listen to me!" she pleaded. "Our daughter is dead. She died not long after she left her shell--"

<I saw her less than an hour ago,> I snarled back, the glow about me growing in brightness, the snow beneath my feet crackling and hissing as it began to melt. <You will tell me where-->

I choked off then, my eyes wide with shock as I watched Pasqual's body abruptly begin to shimmer and flow like quicksilver, then abruptly solidify into an image of my elder daughter, but grown to full adult size. Eyes the color of storm clouds studied me soberly, the silvery mane cascading down the side of the serpentine neck chiming gently in the near-silence. Finally, the apparition sighed, and continued. "She was never very strong, my Lord; I think there was something wrong with her breathing. She'd try to play, but then she would start gasping for air, and. . . . And. . . ." The eyes closed, and the transformed Pasqual turned away. "And one morning, she would not wake up," she finished simply, her voice breaking slightly.

I just stood there, staring at her, staring at what my elder daughter should have been, but would never be. I couldn't move, couldn't think as the silver-scaled form once again turned back to me. "I feared that when you came for us, that you would not understand, would not want to understand. That you would search for our daughter, perhaps even attack me, and in so doing, doom us all. Rather than see our children fall at last to Ahnkar, I took our daughter's place." Pasqual's form flowed, returning to her own appearance. Gray eyes filled with molten gold, their gaze never leaving my face.

"You betrayed Ahnkar?" breathed Stefan, quickly grasping what my mate was implying. "Why did you not contact us?"

"Ahnkar betrayed me!" Pasqual snarled back. "He lied to me, used me, used our children!" Her head was held high now, her eyes bright with an icy fury as she glared at Stefan. "When Lady Dithra revealed to me what Ahnkar had done, any fealty I owed him died that very moment." Her gaze then swung to me. "But I could not turn on him overtly, my Lord; he still had our children beneath his claws. If I had forsworn him then, declared the enmity I felt, I knew I would never see our children again."

I never even got to see her, save for a brief glimpse in a dream. . . . I closed my eyes, then gave my head a sharp shake, shoving the pain away, trying to force my grief-wracked brain to think. <If that is so,> I grated at last, <if you indeed had turned away from Ahnkar, then how did he know Dithra had discovered his treachery? How did he know, if you hadn't told him?>

Pasqual winced, her gaze dropping. "He knew through my own foolishness, my Lord," Pasqual replied, her voice growing bitter. "I did not believe at first. Ahnkar was an Elder; he would never betray Lady Dithra. It had to be some terrible misunderstanding. So I slipped away and went to Ahnkar to tell him of my confusion, to beg of him an explanation. I was a fool." She paused, then looked back up at me. "I will not be fooled again."

. . . . I whipped my head frantically about until I spotted her, still standing forlornly where she had during the entire melee, neither helping nor hindering either side. Our eyes met, and for a moment I thought I saw something other than sadness and fear. . . .
. . . . I felt my breath drawing in sharply as I recognized Pasqual's face a moment before she abruptly spun to look behind her, then darted away into the night. . . .
. . . . So far, I couldn't believe how good our luck had been. Too easy, grumbled my churning stomach, but I ignored it while I wished mightily that I dared shift to my true form. . . .

Slowly, I began to almost-believe. Perhaps because it all made sense with what I knew, perhaps because I so-very much wanted to. My human side ranted at me, called me a naive, besotted fool, but I sat back onto my haunches, the silver-gray nimbus about me winking out as I reached up and removed the sphere from my jaws. "So. You operated from the inside, avenging yourself upon Ahnkar and Ksstha by sabotaging their plans, and using this one--" I gestured at Kaa'saht's miserable form "--to feed us enough information to mount an operation to free our children." Those golden eyes regarded me, then the slim, armored head gestured confirmation. ". . . . But how did you know? How did you know their plans, our plans, so well? Did you have spies within both our camps--"

Something that could almost have been grim humor touched Pasqual's eyes as she gestured negative. "No, my Lord, I had no spies. But what need is there for spies when one has the blood of the Lung?" Both Stefan and I stared at her, mystified, and the humor, along with something . . . warmer . . . grew. "You told me I was beautiful," she said to me at last.

Abruptly her form once again flowed, her darkening body seeming to fold up like some fantastic piece of origami as it rapidly dwindled in size. Seconds later it was over, and where Pasqual had been, a crow now stood upon the snow, its obsidian eyes gleaming. Then the bird's form flowed again, and a great horned owl now gazed at me.

. . . .The blood of the Eastern dragons may have gifted you with other abilities as well. Can you shift your form, Hasai? Can you take on the shapes and abilities of creatures other than man and dragon? Can you become, perhaps, a wolf?. . . .

Yet another shift, and Pasqual stood before me in the human form I'd once known. She looked into my stunned face and gave me a small, sad smile, then continued. "It seems as if there was hardly a day, my Lord, when I wasn't watching--"

Then Lucifer was there. If I live to be a thousand, ten thousand, I will never understand how he managed to track us through the storm, how he managed to get so close, undetected by any of us. All I know is that suddenly he was there, melting out of the underbrush, his swift stride bringing him up behind Pasqual. She saw my eyes widen and began to turn, too late as the fighting knife slid silently out of its sheath on Lucifer's combat harness, the vicious, double-edged blade swinging in while Luce's other hand gripped her hair and pulled up and back, twisting her head to expose her unprotected throat. . . .

"Luce! NO!"

The soldier paused, then his dark gaze swung to meet mine. Pasqual started to struggle, but then froze, eyes wide, when she felt the icy edge of Lucifer's blade begin to slice into her neck. Nearby, Kaa'saht spun about, hissing in shock at what he saw, then began to drop into a crouch, tensing as if for a leap. Luce turned his head to look at the dragon, and whatever Kaa'saht read in the eerily calm face caused him to hesitate, then slowly back away.

"Luce, don't kill her. We need her."

He looked at me again. That small Buddha-like smile was once again tugging at his lips, but there was something missing from it, and the smile was as cold as the dark side of the moon. "I was too late," he said simply. "I was too far away. I could only follow. Follow, until I could deliver justice."

A chill that had nothing to do with the temperature ran through me. "Lucifer, there's no need--"

"No?" Luce looked down into Pasqual's pale, frightened face. Her nude body was already shivering in the brutal cold, and her hands were twitching, almost reaching for the blade, then shying away. Twice I thought I saw the ripple that presaged a shift to her true form, both times aborted as the Gerber Mark II bit deeper. A line of bright red suddenly ran down the length of the gleaming steel, dripping into the snow. "I heard the gunfire, smelled the smoke. Then I saw you. How many of our people did you kill?" he purred, his voice calm, cold, so utterly without mercy that for a moment he truly could have been Lucifer Morningstar.

"No one, Luce; nobody's dead." I lifted a foreleg, to perhaps take a half-step closer, but then those eyes swung up to meet mine again, and I found myself putting it back down. "Grease caught them by surprise, gave the rest of the team time to fort-up in the back room. He's pretty torn up, but we think he'll be okay." I paused, then, quietly, "No one needs to die today, Luce."

For a small eternity Luce considered this. Then, finally, his smile grew fractionally wider. He turned his head to look at Pasqual, then bent to whisper something into her ear. That whispering, too low for the rest of us to hear, went on for almost a full minute, during which what little color Pasqual had left in her face slowly drained away until she was as white as the snow about her.

Abruptly Lucifer flung her away. Pasqual stumbled, almost falling, then her form was changing, rapidly swelling into her true form even as she frantically scrambled to put more space between herself and the dark soldier. Kaa'saht immediately dropped into that hunting crouch again, his tail switching like an enraged cat's, eyes locked on the human who simply stood there, smiling at him as he wiped off his blade and smoothly slid it back into its sheath.

"Kaa'saht, I do not believe I gave you permission to move," I rumbled ominously. The blue-black dragon flinched, his head snapping around to look at me. Immediately he fell out of the crouch, his head held low as he looked first at me, then at Stefan's silently seething form. I gazed at him coldly for a moment, then turned my attention back to Pasqual and waited for her to stop staring at Lucifer the way a small bird stares at a snake. "Pasqual, there's one thing I do not understand," I began quietly. "Why, when we were safely away from Ahnkar's control, did you continue the masquerade? And why did you run?"

The dragoness, her eyes still more than a little wild, opened and closed her jaws twice before she could find her voice. "You ask me such a thing?" she choked out, then gestured to Luce. "You ask me such a thing, when you consort with-- with things like-- like this?"

I looked at Luce, who was standing in the midst of enormous carnivores just as calmly as if he were standing on a street corner waiting for the bus, then back to Pasqual. Slowly, she forced herself to calm down. "My Lord, I knew that one day you would come for me, come for our children. But I did not know that you would be so sorely pressed that you would be forced to ally yourself with-- with humans," she began at last. "I thought you had gone mad, not slaying them when their purpose was finished, and I knew I had to get our children away before the creatures turned on us. I remained concealed, planning our escape, and waited for the right time."

I sat there for several long moments after the dragoness had finished speaking, a dull ember of anger burning within my breast at her words. I lifted my gaze to look at the now-crystalline sky, the tallest of the peaks about us flaring into golden brilliance at the touch of the first rays of the rising sun. My daughter-- I closed my eyes, clamping down on that resurgence of grief. Then I lowered my head, my eyes scanning the tree line before returning to Pasqual. "You forget Pasqual, that there was a time when I thought myself human," I rumbled at last. "These creatures, as you put it, are not my allies, they are my friends. Friends who were willing to head into that deathtrap of a warehouse for no other reason than I needed their help. They risked their lives, and one of them lost that gamble, to bring our children out from beneath Ahnkar's shadow. They are my friends, dragon; from now until the grave, and, perhaps beyond even that. You will remember this, even if you remember nothing else."

The steel-scaled dragoness blinked, her eyes widening at my tone. Then my words began to sink in. She hesitated, then her gaze dropped, her face pensive as she looked away. I watched her for a silent moment, reminding myself that Pasqual had been brought up as a dragon, and doubtlessly fed nothing but propaganda throughout her life. Even Stefan, with his extensive experience with humans had had a rough time shaking off his draconic prejudices, and quite often found himself backsliding into those old, comfortable assumptions. "We will finish this conversation back at the house," I stated.

Pasqual's head came up at that, her mane jangling softly from the abrupt movement. "My Lord, I will not-- We cannot--&q