Mercor spoke in a voice that seemed resigned to foolishness. “Tarman is a liveship, Ranculos. His hull was made from a dragon’s case, one that never hatched.” He paused, watching the ship again gather himself, lift, and then shift the direction of his bow as he lowered himself again. “But that old case has a more recent overlay. Part of him comes from the case of a dragon who would have come to be from the same tangle of serpents we came from. Tarman is as much one of us as a being of his kind can be.”
“A being of his kind? A ‘being’ of his ‘kind’? And what is that, Mercor? A ghost trapped in the body of a slave?” The silver eyes of the scarlet dragon flashed as Ranculos raised his head high, rearing up briefly on his hind legs. Arbuc trumpeted shrilly, echoing his feelings while Fente lashed her tail and rumbled a growl.
Baliper spoke. “He is wrong. He smells wrong. He exists wrong. It is wrong for humans to ride on a dragon in any form, let alone for them to enslave the ghost of one. We should tear him apart and eat him. The memories trapped in his ‘wood’ should come back to us, for they belong to us.” He snapped open his scarlet wings and reared back briefly in a show of size and aggression.
“I think not.” This came in a roar from Kalo. The great blue-black dragon, largest of the drakes, waded forward through the gathered dragons, forcing the smaller ones to step aside or be trodden on. When Baliper did not give way, Kalo shouldered him roughly aside, sending him crashing against Fente. The little green queen screamed in fury and struck at Baliper, lightly scoring his shoulder with her teeth. In turn, the red clapped his wing at her, sending her sprawling into the mud. At this threat to Fente, a yell of outrage from Tats reached Thymara’s ear. He stood on board the Tarman, eyes wild with panic as he stared down at the conflict that threatened to engulf all the dragons.
“Stop!” Mercor cried out, but the golden went unheeded.
“Stop or I’ll kill you all!” Kalo roared.
A stillness froze them. The immense drake turned his head slowly, surveying the gathered dragons. A few of the keepers stood among them. Sedric had moved closer to Thymara. Sylve huddled by Mercor’s front leg.
Fente began to get to her feet.
“Don’t!” Kalo warned her. He opened his jaws wide and displayed to all of them the bright green poison sacs inside his throat. They were swollen and full, pulsing with his anger. “I am not Spit, to show my power before I need it. Oppose me now and I’ll let you feel the strength of my venom.”
The dragons were still. Kalo closed his jaws, but the spiny ruffs on his throat still stood out. He spoke slowly. “I do not recall all that a dragon should. And I recall much that a dragon should not. Kelaro I was, of Maulkin’s Tangle. And I followed Maulkin, a great golden serpent, without question.” His silvery gaze suddenly fixed on Mercor. The golden dragon looked puzzled for a moment, then bowed his head in assent. “Kelaro I was, and Sessurea was a companion to me.” He looked now at Tarman. “I was the stronger, but sometimes he was the wiser.” His gaze moved over the gathered dragons. “If we tear that wisdom to pieces and share it amongst us, will any of us have the whole of it? Will any of us know what Tarman seems to know? Open your mouths and your nostrils, dragons. There is more than one way for a dragon to communicate. Or a serpent.”
Thymara was shocked to discover that she had taken Sedric’s arm and was holding it firmly. Something was happening here, something that frightened her. There were shrieks and shouts from the barge as he once more heaved himself high. For an instant, she clearly saw the squat powerful front legs and had a glimpse of the folded and flippered hind legs. A waft of stench, not unlike the smell she recalled from the day the dragons had emerged from their cases, enveloped her. Her eyes stung and she put her shirtsleeve over her mouth and nose, gasping for breath. Then, the barge wheeled, and Tarman’s bow slapped down onto the river. As his powerful hind legs pushed him away from the delta of river mud, a wave of dirty water washed up onto the beach.
The barge moved out into the river. It nosed, not toward the swift-flowing acid river with the wide open channel but toward the long green tunnel of the fresh water that she had explored yesterday. She realized what was happening at the same moment Sedric did.
“Tarman is leaving without us!”
“Wait!” This came in a wild shriek from Sylve. Thymara glanced in her direction, but she could not tell if Sylve called to the ship or Mercor, for the dragons were in motion, moving to follow the barge. Tarman had wallowed out into deeper water. None of the polemen was at their posts, but he was moving determinedly against the current. Thymara saw a disturbance in the water behind him and guessed at the presence of a tail.
