Upon Rubeo’s death in 577, Flammos became king and any hope that his habits had changed was quickly proven wrong. Incendium was cast into a pit of ruin with each day bringing more injustice and infamy to this great kingdom. I had heard whispers that Blazion and Embron meant to challenge their older brother over the crown, but evidently Flammos heard them as well. He ordered that his two brothers be cast into space with no supplies, a death sentence that would leave his talons clean. Perhaps he does recall that confession and my silence, for he gives the appearance of trusting me. Perhaps his trust is an illusion, intended to trap me. I cannot say. But he left the arrangements to me and I seized the opportunity to undermine his plan.
I knew that the king would not be easily deceived and I suspected that I would be watched. I planned for the princes, Blazion and Embron, to survive their banishment into space, by contriving that they should secretly be put into stasis. I equipped the ship myself with a prototype of the Fractal Interstellar Drive, but I needed help to send them to their fate.
I confided in one person, solely because I had need of her services. She is, against all expectation, a Regalian and one skilled in sorcery. I heard she was living in the forests beyond Incendium city and I approached her under the guise of imperial investigation. Instead of charging and arresting her, which would lead to her certain death, I offered her the opportunity to survive Incendium’s justice. If she cast the spell to shield my actions from the scrutiny of the king and all others, and went with the princes upon their journey, I would ensure that she was not discovered.
She laughed at me. I thought she might decline, but she said she had anticipated my arrival. I couldn’t make sense of this for I had chosen to approach her on a whim, but she was confident. Alluring, as well. She countered my offer, expressing her willingness to fulfill it but insisting that her price would be twofold: first, I was forbidden to tell the princes anything about her, and secondly, her spell would place a curse upon my lineage. My son and his son and all through the ages forevermore would be compelled to remember my treason. In this way, we would be the keepers of the secret that could betray us all. I took her wager, for I didn’t believe in curses, and it was arranged.
Before taking the post of viceroy, I worked in the engineering labs of Incendium. In order to guarantee that no one could track the vessel carrying the princes after its departure, I added a random number generator to the Fractal Interstellar Drive. There is no telling where or when the princes will make landfall. The witch insisted that the drive was unnecessary, that her spell would bend time as well as impede discovery, but we each made our preparations. The princes are gone, but they remain reliant upon the spell of the witch who journeys with them, and unaware of it. There is much risk in their unwitting adventure, but I console myself that they have some small chance of survival.
I have come to rely upon the witch myself and hope for her success.
I also am haunted by my deeds. As the king becomes more dissolute and more demanding, I fear for the future of Incendium. Perhaps my deceit is part of a sickness that will claim us all and reduce this once-mighty kingdom to ruin.
I believed the witch’s curse was nonsense, but as I write this confession in the counting room of our family home, my son is writing it verbatim in another chamber of the house. When I halt, he halts. When I resume, he resumes. He has no knowledge of what I am writing, I didn’t even tell him that I was writing, but he showed me his copy of my confession when I went to the kitchens for refreshment. It chilled me to read my own words in his hand, when he could have no knowledge of them. The witch was right. My will be my apprentice and I will hide the two scrolls in the cellar as she suggested. I suspect she was also correct that each viceroy after me will keep silent for the sake of his own survival and that we will be complicit for generation after generation.
The dragon kings of Incendium have long memories and no tolerance of treason. They will not suffer the discover of it in the family that serves in the most trusted role of their administration. If this truth is ever uncovered, I would hope that the king is held by a more temperate dragon than now, and that the preservation of the royal lineage will be rewarded.
In these dark days for Incendium, I am reassured by the hope that the princes live on in another land, with the honor and integrity that their father instilled within them.
I sign this confession of my own guilt in the ninth month of the year 589 in the city of Incendium.
Narkam
Viceroy of Incendium
Arkan read it twice, then ran a fingertip across the signature.
Could it be true? It seemed fantastic.
And yet, he had no idea where these words had originated.
He thought of the hiding place in the cellar and Narjal’s book and frowned. He took the scroll and the book and headed for the palace. There was only one person who could tell him more, and that was his Uncle Kraw.
Arkan came.
Night was falling over the city of Incendium, and Kraw watched the light change outside the windows. It was his favorite time of day, when Incendium went to sleep, the sky changed hue, and the starport shone high above with new radiance. He had been brought to his apartment and settled in bed. He had been examined and fussed over and had managed to reveal nothing of the shock to him of the ShadowCaster’s message.
King Ouros didn’t understand the message now, but Kraw was certain his king would dig deeper and discover the truth. The king was persistent and would dig into the records until he was satisfied. The old secret would be revealed.
Would he die first? Kraw didn’t know. He had no desire to die, but at the same time, he didn’t want to face the fury of a dragon king who realized he’d been deceived. Ouros was inclined to rage first and be temperate later.
When his nephew’s arrival was announced, Kraw felt a relief to his very toes. He was glad to no longer be alone in this responsibility. Arkan had always been clever. Maybe the younger man would find an alternative solution. Kraw was tired and the prospect of having an apprentice cheered him.
“Are you well, Uncle?” Arkan asked with concern, no doubt surprised to find Kraw in his chambers and in bed.
“I am better now that you have arrived.” Kraw sat up with an effort. “Secure the door and silence the comm, please.”
Arkan’s eyes narrowed. “Then you know.”
“I have been waiting.”
When his instructions had been followed, the younger man presented a scroll of paper to his uncle. “How did I do this?”
“It is the curse.”
“But there are no curses and there is no magic...”
“That’s what I thought, until it happened to me.”
Arkan sat back with a frown. “I don’t like it. I don’t trust it.”
“It doesn’t seem to care. You’ve been chosen as my apprentice...”
“No! I thought one of my brothers...”
“And you thought incorrectly. Neither Ranaj nor Saraw have the skill or the inclination that best serves a viceroy. Ranaj is too outspoken to be in close service to a dragon king, while Saraw is not burdened by integrity. Leave them to manage the family trade, while you serve the kingdom. My life has been spent in service to Incendium, and gladly so. I know the demands of the post, and I think it is a position that will suit you best of my three nephews.”
“Tell me why, Uncle.” Arkan held Kraw’s gaze. “The real reason why.”
Kraw saw no reason to be coy. “Because you are due to have your toes held to the fire. No woman will do it, not since Jalana’s death, so it will have to be dragons.”
“But the children...”
“Will be raised as if they were royalty themselves. They would have every opportunity to improve themselves. I think it would be ideal for them.”
Arkan’s lips set. “They could find an infinite amount of trouble.”
Kraw smiled. “Yet they would have thousands more eyes upon them.” His nephew appeared to consider that. Kraw nodded. “I??
?m glad you were chosen, Arkan. I never wanted to have to train Ranaj or Saraw.”
“But they’re older. Surely...”
“You have been chosen.” Kraw shook the piece of paper at him. “It’s uncontestable.” He shouldn’t have said it that way, he realized as much as soon as the words left his mouth, because Arkan’s expression turned stubborn.
“What if I don’t want to do it? What if I decline?”
“No one declines. Why would you?”
Arkan grimaced and leaned closer, lowering his voice when he spoke. “Because of Narjal. She found what she calls a book of spells, but when she gave it to me, its pages were blank.”
“So, it isn’t a spell book. Children are fanciful.”
“She opened a hidden door in the wooden wall in the cellar with one of the spells she’d learned. There were scrolls within it, and smoke emanated from it, and the seal of the dragon kings burned on the door before it disappeared. She even closed it with a flick of her hand, from across the room. I saw it all.”
Kraw was taken aback. Surely there couldn’t be a witch in his own family? Was this a new manifestation of the curse? It seemed as if the secret was determined to be revealed, given his dream and the ShadowCaster and now Narjal. He knew his tone sharpened. “Who else saw this?”
“Only Tarun and me.” Arkan sat back. “She’ll do it again. Why wouldn’t she? And I’d rather she didn’t break Incendium’s law in a place where there are thousands of eyes watching her.” He shook his head. “I must decline, Uncle. In fact, I think I should move out of the capital city with the children, just in case.”
“But where will you go?”
“I don’t know.” Arkan shoved a hand through his hair. “It was only when I entered the palace that I realized the peril of the situation. All this power. All these ears and eyes. I have to protect her, Uncle.”
“Of course, you do.” Kraw cleared his throat. “But have you considered that the safest place for her might be here, in the palace?”
“How could that be?”
“It is human nature and that of dragons, too, to offer mercy to those they love.”
Arkan’s gaze locked with Kraw’s. “Then why do we keep this secret?” he asked, indicating the scroll.
It was a good question. “Because the mercy may be preceded by fire.”
Arkan rose to his feet and paced the width of the room, then sat down to confront Kraw once more. He had made a choice, and while Kraw admired that it was made quickly, he hoped it was the decision he desired most. “There can be no more curse from the past. There can be no more secret.”
“What do you mean?”
Arkan flicked the scroll with his fingertip. “I will not leave this legacy for my children. Either we show this to the king and his inclination for mercy is proven to me for once and for all, or I will leave the city forever.”
Kraw’s stomach churned at the suggestion. “What about becoming my apprentice?”
“I’m still thinking about it. I need to be sure before I give my word.”
Kraw didn’t know what to say. While he admired Arkan’s need to protect his children, he didn’t think the curse left a lot of choice to the intended apprentice. He could see that his nephew was determined to proceed his own way and wished he could convince him to make a promise first.
He might confess all to the king then still be left without an apprentice.
He could lose everything.
Why did the curse make such demands now?
Kraw might have argued but there was a knock upon the door to his apartment.
“Can’t you ignore it?” Arkan said with an echo of his own frustration.
Kraw smiled. “I am at the disposal of the king, remember. Will you go?”
“Of course.” Arkan strode to the door, his impatience clear, and Kraw wondered what King Ouros would make of his manner. It was far from respectful. Perhaps the king would refuse to have Arkan as viceroy.
But then his nephew opened the door and a woman’s low voice carried to Kraw’s ears.
“Uncle Kraw!” Narjal cried, racing to his room and casting herself across the bed. “You’re sick!”
“I’m just having a nap,” Kraw said, not in the least bit surprised that Tarun climbed onto the bed after his sister. “And having you two visit is the very best way to wake up.”
Arkan didn’t return, nor did his voice rise in anger. Kraw listened and realized it had been the Princess Enigma who had brought the children to his apartment. That Arkan lingered to speak with her was a very, very good sign.
Enigma might change Arkan’s mind as Kraw could not.
He decided to give the boy as much time as he needed and invited the children to settle in on either side of him.
“We followed Pater,” Narjal confided. “He took my book.”
“Oh? Was it a good book?” Kraw asked, knowing exactly which book she meant.
“The very best book,” she agreed. “I want it back.”
“Perhaps it should be a secret,” Kraw suggested quietly and her dark gaze flew to his.
“He told you about it.”
“He did, and I remember a story about it.”
“There’s a story?” Tarun asked, his eyes alight.
“There’s always a story,” Kraw said. “Let me tell you this one.”
“I hope it has velocitor,” Tarun said.
“I hope it ends happily,” Narjal said.
“It does,” Kraw acknowledged to Narjal, even as he tried to think of a way to satisfy Tarun, too. “You see, once there was a witch from Regalia and she was all alone on Incendium.” He raised a finger. “Except, of course, for her velocitor, which was very fast...”
Arkan had always wondered whether a hint of dragon had crept into his family bloodline over the centuries. There wasn’t enough of it that any of the viceroy’s relations could shift shape or breathe fire, but Arkan had always known his family was different.
He had that certainty again when Uncle Kraw spotted the scroll. For a brief moment, there was a gleam of surprise in the viceroy’s eyes, followed quickly by satisfaction, and then the older man’s expression had become inscrutable. That look put Arkan in mind of a dragon guarding his hoard. Kraw held his gaze steadily, without revealing one increment of his thoughts, for what seemed like eternity.
As usual, Arkan blinked first.
He had been shocked to find his uncle in bed in the early evening, but supposed he was getting older. As a boy, he’d been awed by Uncle Kraw’s elaborate mustache, his pride and joy, and it was still perfectly groomed. The older man seldom visited the family home, but when he did, his summary of his activities at the palace left everyone wide-eyed in wonder at his efficiency and the scope of his responsibilities.
Arkan had always been pretty sure his uncle confessed only a tiny increment of what he did, which only made his need to rest more reasonable.
“Because you are due to have your toes held to the fire. No woman will do it, not since Jalana’s death, so it will have to be dragons.”
There had been a glint of humor in the older man’s eyes, a dare and a challenge both, and something that again reminded Arkan of dragons. He was tempted, very tempted, but he was afraid for Narjal, too.
His thoughts were spinning when the rap came at the door. He was both glad to have something to do, even as simple as answering a door, and irritated to have their conversation interrupted. He felt a need to choose immediately, and a sense that it would be prudent to delay.
“Yes?” Arkan said as he opened the door.
“Pater!” Narjal cried, hugged him, then pushed past him in search of Kraw. Tarun shot after his sister, moving quickly enough that Arkan barely managed to brush his fingertips across the top of the boy’s head.
“I do apologize,” the woman accompanying them said, and Arkan looked at her for the first time. Her hair was long and dark, falling in waves over her shoulders. Her eyes were dark and thickly lashed, her lips curved as if she enjoyed
a private joke. There was a glint of amusement in her eyes yet a bit of concern as well. Her voice was low and luscious, her beauty enough to make his heart stop cold.
Sultry was the word that came to his mind.
Mysterious.
Belatedly, he realized who he was speaking to. “Your highness,” Arkan said and bowed. “Princess Enigma, the vid doesn’t do you credit.”
She laughed a little. “Oh, you flatter as Kraw does. Are you related?”
“I am Arkan, Kraw’s nephew.”
“I am pleased to meet you. Will you be his apprentice then? My father has been wondering when Kraw would choose.”
“We are discussing it.” Arkan glanced back without meaning to do so, and looked at the princess again to find understanding in her dark gaze.
“You are concerned about the children,” she guessed. “But many children have grown up happily in Incendium palace.”
“I wouldn’t mean to suggest otherwise...”
“She told me about her book,” the princess said, interrupting him smoothly. “I know Incendium’s laws as well as you do.”
Their gazes met and held. Arkan swallowed, knowing it had been a long time since he had been so aware of a woman.
A dragon princess.
He should take the children and leave the city, for the sake of all of them.
Enigma smiled, just a little. “I was interested in her story, actually,” she said. “I have a fascination with the intersection of the rational and the irrational, the meeting point, if you will, between magic and science.”
“Is there one?”
“Of course there is! So often, what is labeled magic is simply science we have yet to understand. Is it magic to change shape from a woman to a dragon by force of will?”
“No, it’s a perfectly reasonable transformation, more than adequately explained.”
“Here on Incendium. On other planets, in other systems, I might be perceived to be a magical being.” She smiled and Arkan couldn’t argue with a single thing she said.
“I suppose there are other examples,” he ventured.