The Tyrant's Law (Dagger and the Coin)

  “Drakkis,” he said.

  “Master?”

  “You are a slave plotting to kill dragons.”

  “I am, master.”

  “There are many people who would have me put you to death for that alone, Morade or not.”

  “If it is your will that I die, then I will die. But I beg to live long enough to see you named emperor before that.”

  Inys smiled. He had the impulse to blow fire at the slave, though he knew that even such small affection would destroy her. Instead, he folded his wings pulled the lid closed over himself and sealed the jade against all intrusion. Only a small path remained, too small for even a new-hatched dragon to pass through. The passage that Drakkis would take when the war was over and Morade defeated.

  Inys settled, closed his eyes. Invoking the silence was difficult. His mind was unsettled. It kept racing ahead of him, toward the sinking of the island and the surprise attack. The legions of the uncorrupt holding formation against the madness of corrupted slaves. The final battle of generations of war, which he could win only by subterfuge and dishonor. Only by sending his lover and his friends to fight in his place. Only by using the schemes and mechanisms of his cleverer brother.

  But at last, the silence came. Time became nothing. He became merely flesh. All the cycles and systems of his body passed into nothing, waiting only for the voice of his slave to recall him to himself.

  The silence was not meant for dreams, and yet dreams came formless and unreal. He had the inchoate sense of being adrift in a windless openness, floating without effort on an open and empty sky with neither land nor sea below him, but only an endless expanse of air. Then the sense of a presence, alien and unwelcome that almost drove him up from the depth of the silence. He felt uneasy and restless, like a hatchling trying to sleep when it wasn’t tired or else too much so.

  Time passed without Inys. Even the sensation of waiting was gone. Inys surrendered to not-being.

  Excuse me. You need to wake up now.

  Awareness, but only the faintest prick of it, there and then gone again. Easy to ignore, easier to forget. The silence washed back in.

  Hey! Nap time’s over! Wake the hell up! I don’t think this is going to be that simple. Do you think maybe there’s some sort of ritual or … I don’t know. A magic drum or something?

  Awareness again, deeper. And this time, there was a sense of fear in it. He felt as if he were under a vast ocean, the weight of the water pressing him down. He had fallen too far into the silence. He had swum too near to death. Inys tried to come to himself, to reach up from the abyssal depths of his body to something else. He forced his eyes to open and had the sensation of light. He was still too deep to know what the light was or what it meant. He was not even seeing. Not really. Only he knew that somewhere, there was light.

  He struggled like a drunkard to gather the pieces of his shattered mind, and felt them slipping from his grasp. Felt the silence reaching up to take him again.

  It’s time to wake up.

  He grabbed for the voice. The words were strangely inflected, as all slave tongues were, but they existed. They were real. He could actually feel the words in the dreamed flesh of his claws, and he dragged himself along them, up into the realm of mere slumber. He managed enough awareness to know that something was wrong. He was ill or drunk or poisoned. He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t let himself sleep.

  You need to wake up now.

  He breached from dream to the world. The light became real. A torch in a slave’s hand. And another behind it. His body felt wrong, sluggish and dim. The straw he’d slept upon was gone and he felt grime and filth on his scales and in between them. The slave was wrong too. It carried a culling blade, though. The one behind it smelled corrupt. He reached out with his mind and felt Morade’s weapon writhing in the slave’s blood, but it didn’t move to attack.

  “Drakkis?” Inys managed, and his voice sounded weak and cracked in his own ears.

  The nearer slave shook its head.

  “I’m Marcus Wester. That’s Master Kit.” It was the same voice. The one that had called him back.

  “Morade,” Inys said. “Does Morade live?”

  “No,” the slave said. “I’m going to have to go with no on that.”

  Inys felt the relief pour into his soul. He tried to rise, but his body felt so weak. So heavy. The air smelled of rot and ice and the sea. He shook himself, trying to bring his mind to bear, and reared up on his haunches. Every muscle in his body was stiff, slow, and unresponsive. The sense that something was wrong grew.

  “Where is Erex?” he asked. “And Drakkis? What’s become of Drakkis Stormcrow?”

  “Well,” the slave said. “I may have some bad news about that.”

  Dramatis Personae

  Persons of interest and import in The Tyrant’s Law

  IN SUDDAPAL

  The Medean bank in Suddapal

  Magistra Isadau, voice of the Medean bank in Suddapal

  Kani, her sister

  Jurin, her brother

  Salan, his son

  Merid Addanos, her cousin, and

  Maha, her daughter

  various cousins and servants of the house

  Cithrin bel Sarcour, apprentice to Magistra Isadau

  Yardem Hane, personal guard to Cithrin, also Enen

  Roach (Halvill)

  Kilik rol Keston, a merchant

  Samish, a rival of the bank

  Karol Dannien, a mercenary captain

  Epetchi, a cook

  IN IMPERIAL ANTEA

  The Royal Family

  Aster, prince and heir to the empire

  House Palliako

  Geder Palliako, Regent of Antea and Baron of Ebbingbaugh

  Lehrer Palliako, Viscount of Rivenhalm and his father

  House Kalliam

  Clara Kalliam, formerly Baroness of Osterling Fells

  Barriath

  Vicarian, and

  Jorey; her sons

  also Sabiha, wife to Jorey, and

  Pindan, her illegitimate son

  and various former servants and slaves, including

  Andrash rol Estalan, door slave to House Kalliam

  Benet, a gardener

  Alston, a guardsman

  Steen, a guardsman

  Vincen Coe, huntsman formerly in the service of House Kalliam Abatha

  Coe, his cousin

  House Skestinin

  Lord Skestinin, master of the Imperial Navy

  Lady Skestinin, his wife

  House Annerin

  Elisia Annerin (formerly Kalliam), daughter of Clara and Dawson

  Gorman Annerin, son and heir of Lord Annerin and husband of Elisia

  Corl, their son

  House Daskellin

  Canl Daskellin, Baron of Watermarch and Ambassador to Northcoast

  Sanna, his eldest daughter

  Also, various lords and members of the court, including

  Sir Namen Flor

  Sir Noyel Flor

  Cyr Emming, Baron of Suderland Fells

  Sir Ernst Mecilli

  Lord Ternigan, Lord Marshal to Regent Palliako

  Sodai Carvenallin, his secretary

  Sir Curtin Issandrian

  Sir Gospey Allintot

  Fallon Broot, Baron of Suderling Heights

  and also Houses Veren, Essian, Ischian, Bannien, Estinford, Faskellan, Tilliakin, Mastellin, Caot, and Pyrellin, among others

  Basraship, minister of the spider goddess and counselor to Geder Palliako

  also some dozen priests

  And also various thugs, workers, tradesmen, and thieves, including

  Aly Koutunin, mother to

  Mihal, a criminal, and also

  Sarai, a recent bride

  Ossit, a thug with three friends

  IN SARAKAL

  Mesach Sau, representative of the traditional families in Nus

  Abden Shadra, head of a traditional family

  Silan Junnit, member of a trad
itional family

  Sohen Bais, member of a traditional family

  IN BIRANCOUR

  The Medean bank in Porte Oliva

  Pyk Usterhall, notary

  Maestro Asanpur, a café owner

  IN NORTHCOAST

  The Medean bank in Carse

  Komme Medean, head of the Medean bank

  Paerin Clark, bank auditor and son-in-law of Komme

  IN HALLSKAR

  Milo of Order Murro, a young man

  Kirot of Order Murro, an old fisherman and keeper of secrets

  Ama of Order Murro, keeper of the lodge house

  THROUGHOUT THE GREATER WORLD

  Marcus Wester, mercenary captain

  Kitap rol Keshmat, former actor and apostate of the spider goddess

  The Players

  Cary

  Hornet

  Smit

  Charlit Soon

  Mikel

  Sandr

  Dar Cinlama, a hunter of ancient treasures and seeker of lost places

  also his lieutenants, Korl Essian

  Emmun Siu

  Merrisen Koke, a mercenary captain

  also, his men

  Callon Cane, a convenient fiction

  THE DEAD

  King Simeon, Emperor of Antea, dead from a defect of the flesh

  King Lechan of Asterilhold, executed in war

  Feldin Maas, formerly Baron of Ebbingbaugh, killed for treason

  Phelia Maas, his wife dead at her husband’s hand

  Dawson Kalliam, formerly Baron of Osterling Fells, executed for treason

  Alan Klin, executed for treason

  Mirkus Shoat, executed for treason

  Estin Cersillian, Earl of Masonhalm, killed in an insurrection

  Magister Imaniel, voice of the Medean bank in Vanai and protector of Cithrin

  also Cam, a housekeeper, and

  Besel, a man of convenience, burned in the razing of Vanai

  Alys, wife of Marcus Wester

  also Merian, their daughter, burned to death as a tactic of intrigue

  Lord Springmere, the Mayfly King, killed in vengeance

  Akad Silas, adventurer, lost with his expedition

  Assian Bey, collector of secrets and builder of traps, whose death is not recorded

  Morade, the last Dragon Emperor, said to have died from wounds

  Inys, clutch-mate of Morade, whose manner of death is not recorded

  Asteril, clutch-mate of Morade, maker of the Timzinae, dead of poison

  Drakkis Stormcrow, great human general of the last war of the dragons, dead of age

  An Introduction to the Taxonomy of Races

  (From a manuscript attributed to Malasin Calvah, Taxonomist to Kleron Nuasti Cau, fifth of his name)

  The ordering and arrangements of the thirteen races of humanity by blood, order of precedence, mating combination, or purpose is, by necessity, the study of a lifetime. It should occasion no concern that the finer points of the great and complex creation should seem sometimes confused and obscure. It is the intent of this essay to introduce the layman to the beautiful and fulfilling path which is taxonomy.

  I shall begin with a brief guide to which the reader may refer.

  Firstblood

  The Firstblood are the feral, near-bestial form from which all humanity arose. Had there been no dragons to form the twelve crafted races from this base clay, humanity would have been exclusively of the Firstblood. Even now, they are the most populous of the races, showing the least difficulty in procreation, and spreading throughout the known world as a weed might spread through a rose garden. I intend no offense by the comparison, but truth knows no etiquette.

  The Eastern Triad

  The oldest of the crafted races form the Eastern Triad: Jasuru, Yemmu, and Tralgu.

  The Jasuru are often assumed to be the first of the higher races. They share the rough size and shape of the Firstblood, but with the metallic scales of lesser dragons. Most likely, they were created as a rough warrior caste, overseers to control the Firstblood slaves.

  The Yemmu are clearly a later improvement. Their great size and massive tusks could only have been designed to intimidate the lesser races, but as with other examples of crafted races, the increase in size and strength has come at a cost. Of all the races, the Yemmu have the shortest natural lifespan.

  The Tralgu are almost certainly the most recent of the Eastern Triad. They are taller than the Firstblood and with the fierce teeth and keen hearing of a natural carnivore, and common wisdom holds that they were bred for hunting more than formal battle. In the ages since the fall of dragons, it is likely only their difficulty in whelping that has kept them from forcible racial conquest.

  The Western Triad

  As the Eastern Triad marks an age of war in which races were created as weapons of war, the western races delineate an age in which the dragons began to create more subtle tools. Cinnae, Dartinae, and Timzinae each show the marks of creation for specific uses.

  The Cinnae, when compared to all other races, are thin and pale as sprouts growing under a bucket. However, they have a marked talent in the mental arts, though the truly deep insights have tended to escape them. As the Jasuru are a first attempt at a warrior caste, so the Cinnae may be considered as a rough outline of the races that follow them.

  The Dartinae, while dating their creation from the same time, do not share in the Cinnae’s slightly better than rudimentary intelligence. Rather, their race was clearly built as a labor force for mining efforts. Their luminescent eyes show a structure unlike any other race, or indeed any known beast of nature. Their ability to navigate in utterly lightless caves is unique, and they tend to have the lithe frames one can imagine squeezing through cramped caves deep underground. Persistent rumors of a hidden Dartinae fortress deep below the earth no doubt spring from this, as no such structure has ever been found, nor would it be likely to survive in the absence of sustainable farming.

  The Timzinae are, in fact, the only race whose place in the order of creation is unequivocally known. The youngest of the races, they date from the final war of the dragons. Their dark, insectile scales provide little of the protection that the Jasuru enjoy, but they are capable of utterly encasing the living flesh, even to the point of sealing all bodily orifices including ears and eyes. Their precise function as a tool remains obscure, though some suggest it might have been beekeeping.

  The Master Races

  The master races, or High Triad, represent the finest work of the dragons before their inevitable fall into decadence. These are the Kurtadam, Raushadam, and Haunadam.

  The Kurtadam, like myself, show the fusion of all the best ideas that came before. The cleverness first hinted at in the Cinnae and the warrior’s instinct limned by the Eastern Triad came together in the Kurtadam. Also, alone among the races, the Kurtadam were given the gift of a full pelt of warming hair, and the arts of beading and adornments that clearly represent the highest in etiquette and personal beauty.

  The Haunadam exist to the greatest extent in Far Syramys and its territories, and represent the refinement of the warrior impulse that created the Yemmu. While slightly smaller, the tireless Haunadam have a thick mineral layer in their skins which repels violence and a clear and brilliant intellect that has given them utter dominion over the western continent. Their aversion to travel by water restricts their role in the blue-water trade, and has likely prevented military conquest of other nations bounded by the seas.

  The Raushadam, like the Haunadam, are primarily to be found in Far Syramys, and function almost as if the two races were designed to act as one with the other. The slightest of frame, Raushadam are the only race gifted by the dragons with flight.

  The Decadent Races

  After the arts of the dragons reached their height, there was a necessary and inevitable descent into the oversophisticated. The latter efforts of the dragons brought out the florid and bizarre races: Haaverkin, Southling, and Drowned.

  The Haaverkin h
ave spent the centuries since the fall of dragons clinging to the frozen ports of the north. Their foul and aggressive temper is not a sign that they were bred for war, but that an animal let loose without its master will revert to its bestial nature. While they are large as the Yemmu, this is due to the rolls of insulating fat that protect them from the cold north. The facial tattooing has been compared to the Kurtadam ritual beads by those who clearly understand neither.

  The Southlings, known for their great black night-adapted eyes, are a study in perversion. Littering the reaches south of Lyoneia, they have built up a culture equal parts termite hill and nomadic tribe worship. While capable of sexual reproduction, these wide-eyed half-humans prefer to delegate such activity to a central queen figure, with her subjects acting as drones. Whether they were bred to people the living deserts of the south or migrated there after the fall of dragons because they were unable to compete with the greater races is a fit subject of debate.

  The Drowned are the final evidence of the decadence of the dragons. While much like the Firstblood in size and shape, the Drowned live exclusively underwater in all human climes. Interaction with them is slow when it is possible, and their tendency to gather in shallow tidepools marks them as little better than human seaweed. Suggestions that they are tools created toward some great draconic project still in play under the waves is purest romance.

  With this as a grounding, we can address the five philosophical practices that determine how an educated mind orders, ranks, and ultimately judges the races …

  Acknowledgments

  I would like to thank my agents Shawna McCarthy and Danny Baror for their support in this project and for hooking me up with the amazing team at Orbit. Particularly, I owe debts of gratitude to Tom Bouman for his editorial wisdom, Alex Lencicki and Ellen Wright for their help in navigating the strange tides of promotion, and Tim Holman for giving me a port when things were stormy.

  Also and always, I would like to thank my family for supporting me when things were scarce and helping me through the hard parts.