Free Mistress of Dragons by Margaret Weis Page B

into the stone of the west tower. The
stairs opened into a comfortable chamber, small and snug and private. Several
finely woven rugs covered the floor. A large fireplace stood at one end, not in
use on this fine summer’s day. Oil lamps provided light and scented the room
with a pleasing aroma. The king sat at a table strewn with papers, dictating to
a man clad in the somber garb of a clerk.
    Draconas
looked around. This was the king’s own private room, his favorite room, where
he came to transact his business, came to think, came to be alone. A man’s
possessions tell a great deal about him, at least so Draconas had come to
believe, and he was intrigued by the fact that the king’s study was littered
with instruments of a scientific nature. A very fine astrolabe had a prominent
place on a table. Beside it was a sextant. A telescope was positioned on the
balcony. Draconas wondered briefly and with some amusement if the king had
shifted the telescope’s use from observing the stars to observing the dragon.
Edward glanced up at them as they entered and gave them a brief nod, to show
that he knew they were here. He continued his dictation. Gunderson took
Draconas to a window, where they were out of earshot, and Draconas knew now why
the king had made this his chosen room. Doors paneled with glass opened onto a
balcony. Below was the castle courtyard. Beyond the courtyard was the castle’s
walls. Beyond the walls the city of Ramsgate-upon-the-Aston, and beyond
Ramsgate, the world. Green fields gave way to the darker, mottled green of the
forest that gave way to the misty purplish blue of the distant mountains.
Draconas looked to those mountains, with their white snowcaps, and his pulse
quickened. He could not have arranged for a better setting if he’d had the
workings of it.
    The
secretary departed at last, the sheaf of papers now in his keeping. Edward rose
to his feet and stretched. Hearing the scraping of the chair being pushed back,
Gunderson and Draconas understood it was proper to turn around.
    “His
Majesty, King Edward IV,” said Gunderson. Draconas inclined his head.
    Gunderson’s
face flushed. “You are in the presence of the king, sir. You will bow to His
Majesty.”
    “I
beg your pardon,” said Draconas, “but he is not my king and therefore I do not
bow.”
    He
spoke to the king, who was regarding him not in anger, so much, as with
amusement. “You sent for me, King Edward, because you have a problem and you
believe that I may be the one to solve it. You are looking to me for help, not
the other way around. If you want to hire me, that’s fine. If not, that’s fine,
too. But it is important to me and to my job to know that we meet on an equal
footing.”
    Draconas
watched the king closely, waited for his reaction. If Edward threw a tantrum,
stormed and raged, then Draconas would know he’d been wrong in his assessment
of this man and he’d have to find someone else.
    Edward’s
mouth quirked. “He has a point, Gunderson, or rather, several points. We’re not
his king. We did send for him. We are planning to turn to him for help. It’s
hard to force a man to bow under those circumstances.”
    Draconas
was satisfied and he took the opportunity to study the man upon whom, all
unknowing, the hopes of the dragons rested. Edward was poised, confident,
self-assured, and handsome, according to the standards of the day. He wore his
chestnut-colored hair shoulder length, as was the fashion in this part of the
world; it fell in soft waves from a center part. His features were regular and
well-made, with high and prominent cheekbones; a strong, straight nose; and
large hazel eyes that met other eyes with disarming frankness. He was tall, his
body well-formed and muscular, for although his kingdom had been long at peace,
he was always mindful that he might have to fight in her defense.
    “I
hear there’s to be no naked dancing,” added Edward. His smile was warm and
generous, immediately making the