(art by Maarta Laiho)
LAURENCE HAD ALWAYS resolutely refused to express a preference for any particular familiar; when other mages of the Corps had spoken aloud of their hopes for great cats or gyrfalcons, he had kept his peace, and when pressed had only said he should be content with any beast that chose him. He did not intend to be discontented, or ever make his companion feel the lesser, if only the far more usual rat or crow made its appearance after the summoning ritual.
However, he felt now justified in a little dismay. Where was he to keep a fully grown dragon?
(art by Maria Nagy)
(An excerpt from a letter written by Matteo Ricci, February 1583)
THEY POSSESS AN extraordinary number of dragons, who are housed at night within the very precincts of every town and city, in large temples which are turned to the business of the state during the day, and where high-ranking officials receive petitions and give judgements while the beasts are out. A few either from age or ill-health remain sleeping in the corners, but no person shows any fear or concern about their presence, and so well-trained and docile are these creatures that they never offer harm to any person.
Indeed some dragons are venerated almost as highly as their rulers…
(art by Michelle Brenner)
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN'S FAMOUS cartoon was published in 1754 on the eve of the outbreak of the
Seven Years’ War in North America to urge closer bonds among the British colonies, represented by the divided segments of the body, and their closest Indian allies, represented by the two sections marked with wings and draconic head, indicating the Iroquois connected to New York, and the Wampanoag and Narragansett and other Algonquian-speaking tribes to New England. It and Franklin’s accompanying editorial were among the earliest arguments for the forging of a unified identity among colonies and tribes formerly disposed to consider themselves rivals…
(art by Nickol Martin)
KULINGILE PRIVATELY COULD not understand what so distressed Maximus, and some of the other heavy-weights, about him. He remembered himself as small and ungainly and sure to die; that was what everyone had said. “They will not be unkind to you,” Demane said fiercely, when Kulingile ventured to say something, after they had been in camp in Portugal a week. “If they are, you will tell me, and we will soon set them straight.”
“No one is unkind,” Kulingile said, warmed through again. He did not care if anyone did not like him. No one had before, either: except Demane.
(art by Sam Pipes)
TEMERAIRE WAS A good old egg, Maximus thought affectionately, as he padded back to his covert with his belly full, ears pricked and careful as he put down each foot. There were no squeaks of dismay from underfoot: he did like getting up and having his breakfast before the crowds were awake and scurrying about. Berkley was still snoring loudly in his cottage, a pleasant comfortable noise, and the ground-crew had not begun stirring. Maximus yawned himself and lay down in the large red-painted circle where the crew knew not to go, so he would not squash them by accident.
(art by Sarah Arcand)
THE JUBILEE PROCESSION wound away from the cathedral and through the streets back towards the
palace: the marching troops, the great open carriage in front drawn by eight horses, and behind it the queen’s dragon Gloriana with her head craned proudly upon her neck, leading five dragons trailing away in size behind her. Temeraire could not help but be pleased with the splendid display: a riot of color and glory; and better still, the road they followed was wide enough for dragons. But the ceremony over, he took wing to be alone, and think of what Laurence would have said.
(art by Slate)
THE NOISE WAS a peculiar one, and Laurence did not know what to make of it; he had never heard
Temeraire make it before—a sort of humming resonance, accompanied with a regular stamping that made the earth shiver. “Temeraire?” he called, doubtfully, and pushed aside the underbrush and came into the clearing.
“Well? Why is it taking so long?” Iskierka was saying, impatiently, as he parted the tall grass. One appalled glance was enough to make Laurence aware he had grossly intruded; he let the tall blades mercifully cover the scene and turned and fled hastily back into the trees.
(art by Tabitha Emde)
EOONOILON SANG DEEP and resonant, his voice rumbling through the water, and Ilia sang back, swimming round his head in spirals, catching the currents that his great body made, cold and refreshing.
Tomorrow the migration would begin, and there would not be time for play: they had a long journey to the winter waters ahead, with Eoo leading the pack. He knew the way. Ilia’s mother often said she might sleep the whole four weeks and none the worse. But it would still be dangerous and long, and this year Ilia was a guard. She would play while she could.
(art by Tanya Thienpothong)
“WHAT? WHY NOT?" Demane said indignantly, pulling his head back. Why not, as though everything were easy, and they neither of them had to be thinking of anything but themselves.
“And what do you suppose we are to do when Mother retires?” Emily said. “Don’t be stupid. It doesn’t mean we can’t—”
But he was already getting up, his back gone stiff. “I am not going to dishonor you!” he announced, and Emily pulled her knees up and rested her forehead against them. It was not that she didn’t like the captain, but he had much to answer for.
Artist Copyright Information
Volly Gets A Cow Copyright © 2017 by Cary Shien
Planting Season Copyright © 2017 by Hugh Ebdy
Dawn of Battle Copyright © 2017 by Nick Miles
Golden Age Copyright © 2017 by Sandara Tang
Succession Copyright © 2017 by Stephanie Mendoza
Dragons and Decorum Copyright © 2017 by Laurie Damme Gonneville
Drabbles:
Page 127, Copyright © 2017 by Agnes Hartman
Page 129, Copyright © 2017 by Al Lukehart
Page 131, Copyright © 2017 by Amanda Sharpe
Page 133, Copyright © 2017 by Amy Thompson
Page 135, Copyright © 2017 by Angela Hsieh
Page 137, Copyright © 2017 by Caitlin Johnson
Page 139, Copyright © 2017 by Erica Lange
Page 141, Copyright © 2017 by Erika B. Xochimitl
Page 143, Copyright © 2017 by Jason Lauborough
Page 145, Copyright © 2017 by Jennifer Rahier
Page 147, Copyright © 2017 by John O’Brien Schroeder
Page 149, Copyright © 2017 by Karena Kliefoth
Page 151, Copyright © 2017 by Katie Gaubatz
Page 153, Copyright © 2017 by Kelly Nugent
Page 155, Copyright © 2017 by Kelsey Zilowar
Page 157, Copyright © 2017 by Kyle Bice
Page 159, Copyright © 2017 by Kyle Broad
Page 161, Copyright © 2017 by Maarta Laiho
Page 163, Copyright © 2017 by Maria Nagy
Page 165, Copyright © 2017 by Michelle Brenner
Page 167, Copyright © 2017 by Nickol Martin
Page 169, Copyright © 2017 by Sam Pipes
Page 171, Copyright © 2017 by Sarah Arcand
Page 173, Copyright © 2017 by Slate
Page 175, Copyright © 2017 by Tabitha Emde
Page 177, Copyright © 2017 by Tanya Thienpothong
Document Outline
Title Page
Copyright
Volly’s Cow
Planting Season
Dawn of Battle
Golden Age
Succession
Dragons and Decorum
Drabbles
Copyright Information
Naomi Novik, Golden Age and Other Stories
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