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put his
arms around her. She eased against him, her spirit filled with
sadness, needing him, needing his comforting.
    “There will be other dragons. Somewhere, a
dragon is calling to you. Don’t you sense it?”
    “I sense it. And I’m always disappointed.”
She buried her face against his shoulder.
     
     
     

Chapter 6
     
    The unliving take nourishment from our
suffering. It is thus that the dark grows strong. They are the dark
opposite of human, and all evil feeds them, while all joy and love
incites their wrath. They can die, these un-men, as we die. But
they can never touch the Graven Light.
    *
    On the continent of Aquervell, deep in
Quazelzeg’s fort-castle, two generals and twelve captains met with
their leader in the skull chamber, a windowless stone room deep
beneath the earth. The chamber was lighted by candles made of human
fat. The walls were damp, the air heavy. Of the fourteen, six were
un-men, true creatures of the unliving. Eight were humans warped to
the ways of the dark. Only in the eyes of the humans could be seen
the defeat they had taken at Dacia.
    Quazelzeg watched the group without
expression, seeing every flick of an eyelid, every movement of hand
and turn of head. He was a tall, heavy figure who seemed not made
to bend, with pale, tight skin over his heavy-boned face.
    “I expect, Captain Vighert, that the present
expedition is going better than the last. Better than your expedition.”
    A nerve at the side of Vighert’s left eye
twitched.
    “I do not want another dragon killed.”
Quazelzeg studied Vighert. “I want them captured. I would not want
this to happen again. I plan to use these dragons. You would know
that, Vighert, if you paid attention. These dragons are very
important. Do you understand me?”
    Vighert nodded, stiff and reluctant.
    The child slaves along the wall watched the
men with blank faces, hiding whatever emotion might be left in
them. As Quazelzeg moved around the room, he shoved a dark-haired
child out of his way. She fell and did not rise until his back was
turned.
    “Soon these dragons will belong to us,
Vighert. They will bring our visions, our truth, to
Tirror’s masses.” Quazelzeg smiled, a mirthless stretching of his
pale mouth. “And then, gentlemen, we will hold Tirror as powerfully
as we hold these slaves.” He took up a stick and hit the
dark-haired child across the face, for rising before he gave
permission. She knelt and kissed his boots. The fingers of a
red-haired boy trembled.
    “Then we will be their ancestors,
gentlemen. We will be the ancestors of all Tirror, and they will
understand that our pleasures with them are a privilege—that terror
is a rare privilege!”
    The dark-haired girl and the redheaded boy
did not look up, but something subtle passed across their faces.
Quazelzeg did not see; he was watching Vighert. He returned to
humiliating the captain. “Let us hope that those now on
Yoorthed—and Captain Shevek, who is about to go there—are more
skilled at capturing dragons than you were, Captain Vighert.”
    Vighert’s face seemed to fold in on itself.
Shevek’s pock-scarred face looked colorless. The pulse in his neck
pounded.
    Quazelzeg fixed his eyes on the four who
would accompany Shevek. “The dragons are to be chained. Their wings
are to be clipped. I want their mouths chained shut so they can’t
use fire to cut their bonds. I want them drugged and tamed and
obedient. Now, does someone wish to express an opposing opinion on
the best way to handle young dragons?”
    No one did.
    “Once the dragons are captive, gentlemen, we
will train them with the two bard children.”
    Vighert said, “No one knows if these
children have the skills.”
    “Of course they have the skills. They have
the blood. Both have the mark of the bard.” He beckoned the
dark-haired girl to him. A tiny brown, three-clawed print marked
the inside of her left thigh. He parted the boy’s red hair so his
neck shone white, and pointed to the same