Hoard

Food was going to become an issue.

The dragons had drifted off to their own inscrutable business after a luxurious bath and two surprisingly affectionate farewells. Well, not so surprising in Izayaroa’s case, not after last night, but Tiavathyris also kept making her interest clear, culminating in warm, lingering glances over her shoulder as she departed the bathing chamber. Still nude and swaying her hips, her long tail tracing a serpentine pattern of water along the Timestone floor.

Vadaralshi had made a guttural noise in her throat and launched herself out into space rather than transforming so she could use the door.

Now Kaln was back in Atraximos’s—well, his hoard chamber, now. He was once again wearing the loose garment Emeralaphine had conjured for him, since it was still practically pristine. And fortunately, his upgraded belt pouches still contained his supplies, including the pieces of dried meat and flatbread he was now chewing.

He estimated he had food for two more days or so. And sufficient coin to trade for another week’s supply, assuming he could find a trader—

Wait, no, that was not the situation. Thanks to his intuitive command over Atraximos’s protective wards, Kaln now knew he had enough money in the coinage of dozens of nations to outright buy the largest mansion in Rhivkabat and have it furnished in solid gold, and that just with the coins stored away, never mind what he could get by selling off the other treasures present. It was probably for the best that dragons were such hoarders, assuming the three ladies had comparable wealth squirreled away. Dropping even a one-digit percentage of this trove in whatever tiny kingdom was closest would implode its entire economy overnight.

Kaln was now richer than he’d ever imagined it was possible for a person to be, and in three days he would have neither food nor any idea how to obtain more.

To judge by the bones, the dragons ate whatever they could catch…apparently more or less whole. Well…he could probably demand a share and work out a way to cook it. He didn’t know whether it was even possible for a human to digest raw mammoth or mountain goat and wasn’t terribly curious to learn. Even that was a short-term solution, however. On the road, the Entity had helpfully guided him into opportunities to purchase, barter for, or occasionally steal proper food, forcing him to rely only sparingly on these tough travel rations. Kaln had shamelessly tossed aside his benefactor for three new ones, on the grounds that they were more transparent about their agendas, but they probably didn’t have a clue how to go about obtaining vegetables or fruit around here.

After everything he’d survived and achieved, dying of scurvy would be a downright insulting finish.

And now, Kaln realized, he was dithering. Sitting on the edge of his humongous, luxurious bed, staring at the Timestone walls and not doing anything about…anything. The enormity of his new situation yawned in front of him, filled with potential he’d never so much as imagined, but also risks well beyond the stakes he was accustomed to dealing with, and so many uncertainties between them that he hardly knew where to begin.

Well, the Lord Scribe had always said the first step in tackling any big task was break it down into smaller ones. And then those into smaller ones still, if need be, until he had a place from which to begin. The advice carried a sour aftertaste in Kaln’s memory, now, after the old bastard had thrown him to the crocodiles, but his advice had always been good. It had never failed him before.

Besides, Kaln was a big step closer to getting even, and then some.

He stood, descended the bed’s stairs—honestly, a bed that had its own stairs, there was luxury and then there was this absurdity—and began to pace in front of the neatly labeled map of the chamber. Which, he noticed, had been changed to reflect the bed’s presence and also…oh, right.

Belatedly, Kaln straightened up the clothing displays he and Atraximos had knocked over yesterday in their brief fight, and put the Matzanatl whip back in its case. Thanks to the enchantments now under Kaln’s control, that took only a moment of concentration to teleport them back into position.

So: goals, and steps. He began pacing up and down while organizing his thoughts, a habit of his which had always irritated his fellow scribes.

Kaln needed to get a handle on his godling powers, and leverage the expertise of his new dragon family to do so. He also needed to gain their assistance in prosecuting his revenge—actually just Izayaroa would be plenty for that purpose, considering everyone against whom he planned to retaliate lived in Rhivkabat where she was the sovereign and ruler and a quasi-religious figure. He needed to prepare himself for these challenges they said would be coming; exactly who would try to take out a new godling? The dragons had referred vaguely to others on around their power level, which meant… Well, other dragons, godlings and maybe gods, doubtless a few of the most powerful wizards and such, miscellaneous fairies and devils and… Kaln amended that with a sub-goal: learn who else was in this peer group in which he was the newest and weakest member.

Those were his goals. And upon consideration, the next step toward any of them was simply to talk with the dragons.

He needed to improve his social standing around here. Kaln’s new stepkids seemed…less than enthusiastic about him, understandably. As for his wives, as best he understood their expectations, they appeared to expect sexual attentions from him—well, two of them did, at least—and they all three wished to coach him and help guide his emerging powers toward a form that would best suit their interests.

With a sinking feeling, he realized he had in fact been prepared for exactly this task. Haktria’s advice was even worse than the Lord Scribe’s; she had certainly hurt him a lot more, so badly that a bitter pall lay over every memory he had of her. But it was still good advice. Her training had already helped him here; it had taken a lot of rigorous “coaching” from her, plus the preternatural stamina granted by his half-finished apotheosis, to impress Izayaroa in bed. Now… Now it was time to apply the rest of her lessons.

Sly as they were, his wives were apparently socially isolated, deprived of physical pleasures, and inherently weak to having their egos stroked. These were all exploitable weak points, and they suggested an overall strategy. They were definitely smarter than he was, but there was at least one area in which he had attained expertise that they had not.

It was time to seduce these dragons.

Straightening his back and then his toga, Kaln nodded to himself and strode out into the grandiose entry hall of his new home, into the even more grandiose main chamber beyond.

There, he paused again, peering around and wrinkling his nose.

Now that he’d seen cleaner chambers in this complex, the tragedy of this place was even more poignant. The warm, golden-brown stone was embellished with the characteristically simple but beautiful geometric decorative carvings of the Timekeepers, accentuated by even more beautiful panels of colored Timeglass which should have filled the space with light. Now the engravings were completely obscured, and the room itself rendered dim, by the layers of dust, cobwebs, moss, and scorch marks which covered everything. To say nothing of the absolute sea of bones and detritus covering the floor except for a few cleared paths, and the stale, sharp stink of decay which hovered everywhere.

Kaln amended his to-do list: he needed to get this damn place cleaned up. How could they live like this?

As he stood there considering, a huge head emerged from one of the big side chambers, swiveling about on a long neck to peer at him directly.

“Ah, husband. Excellent timing. Come, let us begin work.”

Emeralaphine’s tone was brusque, almost peremptory, and filled with the arrogant assumption that she would be unquestioningly obeyed.

To be seduced is to be guided on a journey of delights by a more experienced traveler. For this to work, the seducer must maintain a position of dominance—but gently, oh so gently, never once affronting the target’s pride or coercing their movements. Every step must be taken out of trust that coexists with mystery: trust that the seducer knows the way and will not bring the seduced to harm, even as they themselves remain a tantalizing enigma to be unraveled. Remember, my lovely, the only difference between courtship and harassment is the goodwill of the subject.

Meeting Emeralaphine’s gaze with Haktria’s voice ringing unpleasantly in his memory, Kaln smiled. It was a careful smile, as meticulously constructed as any contract he had penned. Warm, eager, showing delight at the sheer sight of her that he didn’t really have to feign—even when not in her gorgeous humanoid form he well remembered the sight of it, and besides, a dragon made for a spectacle that was no less majestic for not warming his blood. And yet, it was a calm smile. Confident. In control.

Kaln turned toward her, smiling that intricate smile, and stepped forward. One foot in front of the other, at a calm and steady rate. Emphasizing that he acted of his own will, at his own pace, and was not one to jump at her command.

He held that pace for a careful span of seconds, watching her expression and judging her patience, carefully choosing the moment—five steps down the broad central staircase, as it happened—for the spontaneous gesture.

Now that he had the hang of it, all it took was a moment’s concentration and then he flickered across the whole length of the room, arriving by Emeralaphine’s feet in front of the door so fast she had to step back and swivel her neck around again to restore eye contact.

“Thank you, Emeralaphine.” Kaln spoke with the same exacting care, making his voice an instrument he played with the greatest skill he could muster. “To have your guidance is a greater boon than anyone could possibly hope for. I shall do my utmost to prove a student worthy of such an esteemed teacher.”

Carefully, deliberately; this was a tricky balance, and he had to strike it exactly right. His gratitude was sincere and he made his expression of it deliberately flattering; she was a prideful creature, and he suspected that after who knew how many centuries of keeping company only with equally prideful creatures, she was hungry for validation and praise. But Kaln was careful not to be fawning, or to present himself as in any way submissive. He made his tone, expression, and bearing as confident as he could: calm, collected, in control. Dispensing praise because it was his to dispense, not because she was entitled to it.

This was already exhausting.

It was fortunate that the expression on her huge reptilian face was so easily readable; the arrangement of facial muscles clearly had a direct relationship to that of her other form, and also Emeralaphine apparently had no practice in obscuring her reactions. Her rising impatience at his deliberate approach had been stifled by his words of praise, and now she paused, seemingly uncertain how to respond for a moment. Just as she opened her mouth to answer, he preempted her with his next gambit.

Kaln held out his hand to her, along with a warmly inviting smile and a careful positioning of his feet. Whether or not she recognized the specific stance and gesture, a courtly invitation to take his hand in the style of Rhivkabat’s well-bred elite, the point was to place her on the spot. He had his hand at shoulder height, and anyway in her current size she could do nothing with it.

Invitation, guidance, playfulness, and no hint of coercion. He wasn’t making her do anything; she would decide to indulge him, or she would not.

After staring quizzically down at him for a moment, she did. Emeralaphine shifted into her smaller form and placed one scaled hand in his own, closing her claws around his fingers. Kaln, of course, kept his inner triumph clear of his face, merely widening his smile by a deliberate increment and adjusting his grip so he could place a kiss upon her palm.

His beautiful, enigmatic, terrifying wife regarded him with that same quizzical expression, but now a faint tinge of pink rose in her pale cheeks again.

Holy shit, he was actually pulling this off.

“Well, then,” Emeralaphine said, clearing her throat. “This way, if you please, husband. There are a few things I would like to show you whilst we begin to delve into your…situation.”

“I’m all yours.”

That line had worked better on Izayaroa; Emeralaphine didn’t appear to notice the innuendo. She simply lowered their clasped hands down to waist level and stepped forward, guiding Kaln through the huge arched tunnel.

This, he recognized, was the door in which Pheneraxa had been napping when he’d first slipped in here yesterday. It was laid out like the one into the master chamber: a long access hall, built to such enormous scale that a dragon could pass through without needing to shift, and leading only to an even grander chamber beyond. Perhaps there was some architectural purpose to this, or maybe the Timekeepers just liked their grandiosity. Probably both.

But all thoughts of archaeology and even his present predicament vanished from Kaln’s mind as they stepped into the room beyond.

It was a library.

Built to the same apparent design and proportions as the front hoard room in the master suite, this one had bookshelves covering every inch of the walls, including the inset Timeglass panels. There were more in the ceiling, but overall the light was thus dimmer, save where specific illumination had been added. And such a library! Those shelves were floor to ceiling, a distance Kaln could tell was four stories because that was how many levels of balconies had been built along them to provide access to all the shelves. The second row of free-standing shelves out from the walls only rose two stories, with corresponding walkways attached, and the third a single level positioned safely on the floor. Given the size of the chamber, even that left a large cleared space in the center.

A central aisle cut it in half, extending from this door to the one opposite; on the right side was a wide open space surrounded by the bookshelves in which Pheneraxa was currently stretched out, apparently asleep. She cracked one eye at their appearance, then closed it again in ostentatious disinterest and did not otherwise move. The left half of the cleared center was subdivided further, with another aisle leading to a third door on that side of the room; the closest side was a reading area with a variety of chairs, tables, and brighter lighting, while the farther held a collection of clearly rare books and scrolls in glass cases rather like the way Atraximos displayed his hoard.

The sheer wealth of knowledge on display here was enough to make him start salivating—this wasn’t as big as the entire Royal Archives, of course, but the knowledge of just whose trove this was raised tantalizing prospects about what it must contain. It even looked like a sorceress’s library: those thin walkways were obviously held up by the glowing chunks of crystal and metal embedded in them at regular intervals, being clearly too delicate to support their own weight unassisted, and the lights in here were hovering objects that put out a steady, blue-tinted luminescence more powerful than Timeglass. Save the white ones drifting over the reading area, which were apparently meant to be easier on the eyes.

“I thought you might appreciate this, husband,” Emeralaphine said in an overtly self-satisfied tone. “A scribe of all people would see the value in what is held here.”

Kaln realized belatedly that he had entirely forgotten to put on his act, and was staring around with avid wonder. In fact…yeah, he had gasped aloud when they stepped through the door. And had he run the last few steps, dragging her along? He had a vague memory of that. Well, it was no great problem; she had clearly taken his reaction as a high compliment.

“This is your hoard? Emeralaphine, this is absolutely…”

“Oh, goodness, no,” she sniffed, waving her free hand. “The door on the left leads to my chambers. I have some few of my own favorite tomes and scrolls in my personal collection. These are my books, however. The layout of this complex is such that we had four perfect spaces for personal lairs, and only the three of us—”

“Six of us,” Pheneraxa said without opening her eyes.

“Child, shut up. Three consorts and their offspring. As a peculiarity of the architecture, the two on this side are connected by this passage between them. Obviously, none of us could suffer the indignity of either of the other two having twice the space. The compromise was that my books could live here, and be accessible to the others—a most unconventional step for a dragon’s belongings, but I deem it important for the young ones to have access to learning as they grow up, and without doubt Izayaroa’s and Tiavathyris’s libraries are paltry in comparison. Not that either of their brats have had nearly as much interest in this bounty of wisdom as my Pheneraxa, but, well… Let’s just say, none of them gain their appreciation of the finer things from their father.”

“Vanimax and Vadaralshi read plenty,” Phenerax commented, eyes still shut. “But nearly all fiction, these days.”

“Pheneraxa,” her mother continued with more of an edge to her tone, “practically lives in here. Be aware, husband, that this is an arrangement I tolerate, not one I particularly endorse, so feel free to remove her if she is in your way.”

The blue dragon twitched the tip of her tail, once, and then continued pretending to be asleep.

“I can hardly imagine being so starved for reading material in here that I would feel the need to push her aside,” Kaln said fervently. Then, belatedly, remembered he was supposed to be putting the moves on her, not drooling over her collection. “This is…incredible, Emeralaphine. And you’ve made this available to all the others? Give how I know dragons feel about their hoards, your generosity is astonishing.”

Pheneraxa’s tail twitched once more.

“Yes, isn’t it?” Emeralaphine agreed with a pleased smile, raising her chin. “In any case, husband, you of course are also welcome to peruse my books, as are all members of the household. Be advised of my rules: none of these are to be removed from this chamber, and if any them are damaged, the suffering of the one responsible shall be unimaginable. My wards go a long way toward ensuring both of these facts, but should they be circumvented or overpowered, I will have to enforce my rules personally. That is to be avoided.”

“It hardly need be said,” he agreed quickly. “To say nothing of the affront to you, my lady, I would consider any damage to this collection an unpardonable crime.”

“Mm, good,” she said, smiling again. “I begin to think we shall get along better than I first feared, husband.”

“The wards,” he murmured, and at the thought, it was as if he had re-focused his eyes; suddenly he was more consciously aware of a layer of data that had been evident to his senses, merely ignored before. It was…very much like the ones in Atraximos’s lair. In principle, if different in the details. As with the others, Kaln could not make any sense of the intricate structures and overlapping flows of energy he could sense throughout this chamber, but he was keenly and intuitively aware of it. Since he had not seized control of the wards, he could not manipulate them as he did the ones in his own room.

But he could tell that he could. It would be as easy as reaching out with his mind and grabbing.

He very carefully took a mental step back, letting the awareness of these filaments of magic slide across his consciousness, untouched. Something told him that meddling with Emeralaphine’s work would be…unwelcome.

Kaln turned back to his bride, finding her staring intently at him, and no longer smiling.

“Hmm,” she mused. “That reminds me. How did you reach an accommodation with the defenses in Atraximos’s personal lair? I can’t imagine that either Izayaroa’s middling skill with magic, nor whatever means you used to sneak in here in the first place would have allowed you to pass a peaceful night under their auspices.”

“Ah, that.” Well…there was really no point in dissembling. “I took them over. The wards recognize me as their master now. And a good thing, too, aside from not being fried as an intruder. There’d be no other way to possibly find anything in that collection. Do you know how many rooms he’s got in there, full of stuff?”

Pheneraxa not only opened her eyes, but lifted her head and turned to stare at him directly.

“You took…them…over,” Emeralaphine enunciated slowly, as if chewing on each word in order. “You can…do that? And you claim to have been a scribe, not a court sorcerer?”

Yep, there it was.

Kaln turned to her and put on an open, wry, slightly rueful expression. He was still holding her hand—good. He gently rubbed his thumb over the back of it in an understatedly affectionate gesture.

“Oh, not at all. I rather fear you will find me an unfortunately ignorant pupil, my lady wife—but I promise I’m a quick learner. No, I have little comprehension of the magic. But…I suspect because it was laid by a dragon…it was extremely easy to bring it under my control.”

“I…see.” Emeralaphine narrowed her eyes, and also narrowed her pupils. “Husband, in case this does not go without saying, you are not to tamper with any of the enchantments in this chamber, and especially not those in my own. In fact—”

“Emeralaphine.” He held her gaze with his own, keeping it as intent and warm as he could make it, and raised her hand to again kiss her palm. “What under every uncounted heaven could possibly induce me to show you such disrespect? You have my word: that which is yours I shall protect as if it were my own. Without presuming any prerogative to touch it uninvited.”

“Hm. Very well, husband. I suppose I cannot fault you for being…what you are. And you do continue to show proper respect.”

That helped, he could tell by her expression—she was still wary and somewhat alarmed, but significantly mollified by his reassurance, not to mention flattered again. It was a relief to deal with someone so transparent. Haktria and her peers would be running circles around him if he’d tried this with any of them. Undoubtedly so would Izayaroa, and bless her for not making it necessary.

“Shall we, then?” he prompted, smiling and stepping toward the seats in the reading area.

“Ah, ah, not in here,” Emeralaphine said, smirking and wagging a clawed finger at him. “We will not be testing unknown magic in the library, husband. For shame. And you a scribe!”

Unless Tiavathyris whipped out an unpleasant surprise, Kaln had a feeling he knew who the difficult personality in his harem was going to be.

“Do forgive me,” he said with his most charming smile. “I jumped to the conclusion that you’d want to go over theory, first. By all means, my lady wife, lead on. I am eager to learn…everything you have to show me.”

He might have oversold it a smidge, lowering his chin to give her a particularly smoldering look through his eyelashes. At least, that one landed; Emeralaphine hesitated, then another pink flush rose in her cheeks and she cleared her throat, hastily turning away.

“Yes, well. Not unreasonable, husband, that is in fact the proper starting point. I should learn what you know and determine how many gaps I need to fill in. We may not get to actual practice for days at least. But… As charming as my library is, I’ve something to show you that I believe you will find even more compelling.”

“More than a library? Than this library? From anyone else I would doubt that extremely. But you, my lady, I must believe can pull it off.” He deliberately quirked one side of his smiling lips up higher than the other, an affectation Haktria had taught him; people tended to find it charming. He didn’t know why, but it had worked on him when she used it. “After you, then. I can hardly wait.”

“She mostly wanted to be the one to show you, before the others could,” commented the third wheel, who was once again stretched out with her eyes closed.

“Pheneraxa,” her mother growled, “if you are going to pretend to be asleep, pretend harder. Come, husband.”

Hand in hand, they strolled through the library, and Kaln did not bother to disguise his avid peering around, knowing she would take his admiration of her trove as a compliment. There were relatively few books he could actually identify without stopping to investigate closer, but he was already all but drooling with the anticipation of spending time at his leisure in here. Quite a few of these volumes and scrolls were clearly magical, to judge by how some of them glowed and/or hovered.

The back door was, apparently, indeed the back of the entire complex; unlike the front, it was not left standing open. There was another huge Timekeeper gate at the other end of the corridor leading out from the library, this one with a smaller, person-sized door inset.

Emeralaphine, with a languid wave of her hand and no visible magical effect, opened the big one. For the first split second Kaln took that for simple draconic overkill, until he saw the view she had just opened for him.

Then he forgot everything he was doing, dropped her hand, and went running out into the sunlight to stare.