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Authors: Stephen Deas
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ankles at the bottom where the coat ended.
Fly free if you wish. Go to them. Tell them what has come. I mean no war against either men or dragon, but I will fight if I must to take back what was mine.
Diamond Eye might have laughed. They will not care for your ambition, little one, not one whit either way. It is him they watch for. The Black Moon. Diamond Eye jumped to the rim and fell away into the sky. They know he is here. His return spreads among us like fire.
As Diamond Eye soared away, the Crowntaker climbed the steps from the dragon yard. He stood beside her and watched the dragon vanish into the distance. Berren, Crowntaker, Crazy Mad, the Bloody Judge, all the names he carried around with him like memories of lovers past, clung to despite their betrayals, though they all meant nothing now.
‘Where is he going?’
‘Wherever he wants.’ Zafir peered, trying to see how close the Black Moon lurked behind the Crowntaker’s eyes. ‘Why did you kill that dragon? Bellepheros could have used its blood.’
‘Do you leave a horse with a broken leg to suffer? Bellepheros can have all the blood he wants from the others. The Black Moon will take them with this knife, every dragon that fell and lives. That one I set free because I could.’ He paused. ‘I told you the Black Moon was weak again now. Crossing the storm-dark drains him. Your prisoners are gone, by the way. Fled in the chaos.’
‘Prisoners?’
‘The alchemist and that Adamantine Man and the other one.’
‘They were never prisoners, Crowntaker. We’re not slavers.’
‘I think maybe they didn’t quite see it the same way. Probably on account of Halfteeth and the whole business of locking them up and tying them to chairs. Anyway, they’re gone. Did a bit of damage on their way out, too.’
Zafir looked away. They could have done with another alchemist. Bellepheros hadn’t been the same since the last days of Merizikat; frankly he hadn’t been the same since the Black Moon had come and Tuuran had hailed him as the Silver King returned, the saviour who would deliver them all from fire, and Bellepheros had been the first to see how that was a lie, and also the first to be cut by the Black Moon’s knife. Good or ill Zafir didn’t know, but the Black Moon was something else, not the Isul Aieha, and no saviour of anything except himself; and Bellepheros didn’t have to keep their dragons tame now that the Black Moon had woken them, but Zafir still needed his potions for the dragon-disease she carried and for other things too. Another alchemist would have been a boon.
‘Farakkan,’ she said. ‘We bring Tuuran back to the eyrie. Then the Pinnacles because the Pinnacles were my home and my throne and where I wish to be.’ She watched the Crowntaker carefully, waiting for the Black Moon to come and dismiss her desires. When he didn’t, she went on more softly: ‘Then to the Adamantine Palace to reclaim my spear. And then we deal with the dragons, however it is your half-god means to do that.’ She’d seen it in his head when he’d raged at her once and nearly put an end to her, seen the spear, how badly it mattered, but never the why or what or how, only that it did. The Adamantine Spear. Symbol of the speaker of the nine realms.
The Crowntaker closed his eyes and clutched his head. ‘I don’t know why either. I don’t know what for. I don’t know what he wants …’ He collapsed and squatted on the wall. Zafir watched him with wary pity. She didn’t know much about the Crowntaker’s past except that Tuuran had known him as a friend, but she never knew which to expect, the man or the monster. The Black Moon could stop time itself. He would stay as long as he wanted, and he only even pretended to listen to her because by sheer chance she had cut herself on the Adamantine Spear on the day it had been given to her, and the spear had drunk her blood, and somehow that mattered.
‘Tuuran’s in Farakkan, yes?’ The Crowntaker looked
Fly free if you wish. Go to them. Tell them what has come. I mean no war against either men or dragon, but I will fight if I must to take back what was mine.
Diamond Eye might have laughed. They will not care for your ambition, little one, not one whit either way. It is him they watch for. The Black Moon. Diamond Eye jumped to the rim and fell away into the sky. They know he is here. His return spreads among us like fire.
As Diamond Eye soared away, the Crowntaker climbed the steps from the dragon yard. He stood beside her and watched the dragon vanish into the distance. Berren, Crowntaker, Crazy Mad, the Bloody Judge, all the names he carried around with him like memories of lovers past, clung to despite their betrayals, though they all meant nothing now.
‘Where is he going?’
‘Wherever he wants.’ Zafir peered, trying to see how close the Black Moon lurked behind the Crowntaker’s eyes. ‘Why did you kill that dragon? Bellepheros could have used its blood.’
‘Do you leave a horse with a broken leg to suffer? Bellepheros can have all the blood he wants from the others. The Black Moon will take them with this knife, every dragon that fell and lives. That one I set free because I could.’ He paused. ‘I told you the Black Moon was weak again now. Crossing the storm-dark drains him. Your prisoners are gone, by the way. Fled in the chaos.’
‘Prisoners?’
‘The alchemist and that Adamantine Man and the other one.’
‘They were never prisoners, Crowntaker. We’re not slavers.’
‘I think maybe they didn’t quite see it the same way. Probably on account of Halfteeth and the whole business of locking them up and tying them to chairs. Anyway, they’re gone. Did a bit of damage on their way out, too.’
Zafir looked away. They could have done with another alchemist. Bellepheros hadn’t been the same since the last days of Merizikat; frankly he hadn’t been the same since the Black Moon had come and Tuuran had hailed him as the Silver King returned, the saviour who would deliver them all from fire, and Bellepheros had been the first to see how that was a lie, and also the first to be cut by the Black Moon’s knife. Good or ill Zafir didn’t know, but the Black Moon was something else, not the Isul Aieha, and no saviour of anything except himself; and Bellepheros didn’t have to keep their dragons tame now that the Black Moon had woken them, but Zafir still needed his potions for the dragon-disease she carried and for other things too. Another alchemist would have been a boon.
‘Farakkan,’ she said. ‘We bring Tuuran back to the eyrie. Then the Pinnacles because the Pinnacles were my home and my throne and where I wish to be.’ She watched the Crowntaker carefully, waiting for the Black Moon to come and dismiss her desires. When he didn’t, she went on more softly: ‘Then to the Adamantine Palace to reclaim my spear. And then we deal with the dragons, however it is your half-god means to do that.’ She’d seen it in his head when he’d raged at her once and nearly put an end to her, seen the spear, how badly it mattered, but never the why or what or how, only that it did. The Adamantine Spear. Symbol of the speaker of the nine realms.
The Crowntaker closed his eyes and clutched his head. ‘I don’t know why either. I don’t know what for. I don’t know what he wants …’ He collapsed and squatted on the wall. Zafir watched him with wary pity. She didn’t know much about the Crowntaker’s past except that Tuuran had known him as a friend, but she never knew which to expect, the man or the monster. The Black Moon could stop time itself. He would stay as long as he wanted, and he only even pretended to listen to her because by sheer chance she had cut herself on the Adamantine Spear on the day it had been given to her, and the spear had drunk her blood, and somehow that mattered.
‘Tuuran’s in Farakkan, yes?’ The Crowntaker looked
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