Chapter Six #2
“I’m glad the demon wasn’t a big deal, but holy crapballs, that’s brilliant, Ysolde,” Aisling said as the male dragons all looked thoughtful, all but Baltic, who wore what I was coming to think of as his standard enigmatic expression. “The bit about Becket being a rep, not the demon.”
“Why is it brilliant?” I asked, rubbing a growing headache at the back of my head.
“Because Yrian’s a dragon,” she answered, looking pleased. “It makes absolute sense for our rep to make sure he’s being treated well. But can we do that? Doesn’t it take a sárkány—that’s a weyr meeting, Becket—to designate someone?”
“We can do it with a simple majority vote,” Drake said, glancing at the other two wyverns. They nodded, and Drake tapped on his phone before saying, “Kostya agrees to the temporary change. That means we can proceed.”
“I’m not sure what your rep is supposed to do,” I said seven minutes later, after I swore to champion all things dragon to the L’au-dela, and was duly appointed as their ambassador. “But if you think the people at the Asile won’t kick up a fuss about it, then I’ll do my best.”
“You can go in without a glamour,” Aisling said, glancing at my hair. I was currently wearing an appearance that closely favored my Spanish mother. “Just in case they can tell that you have one on, that is.”
“They won’t,” I said, not in the least bit worried about anyone detecting my true self. “I used to make glamours for the Sovereign to wear in Abaddon, and she said no one ever saw through them.”
“You’re the one who did that?” May asked, looking astounded. “I always wondered how Sally could march around being a demon lord without anyone noticing that she was also one-half of the Sovereign.”
“So, you’ll go in as yourself, our ambassador, and Jim will help in whatever glamour you put on it,” Aisling said, giving her demon dog a meaningful look.
“We’ll wait outside the Asile in case you need help once you get Yrian out, and to keep any demons away should they find out where you are. Does that sound right to everyone?”
Murmurs of agreement drifted around the plane. There was a little discussion as we circled Paris before landing, but as it was mostly logistics of travel, and the dragons organizing protection of me from Candy and Andy, I didn’t pay it much mind.
I did approve, however, when two redheaded men met us at the plane, both of them positively bristling with swords, morning stars, and a couple of big battle-axes, passing them out to the dragons.
“Is something wrong?” The question, offered in a soft voice, dragged me out of the contemplation I’d fallen into on the two-hour drive to the building known to the Otherworld as the Asile.
May, who sat opposite me in a lovely antique Rolls that belonged to Drake and Aisling, looked concerned as she continued.
“I’m sorry if I was disturbing your concentration, but you look upset, and I wondered if you were worried about us protecting you. ”
“No, I’m not upset. Just mulling over everything in my mind.” I sorted through my thoughts, my fingers absently starting another glamour, this one a backup for Jim. I was a big believer in backups. “Am I correct in thinking that Yrian has a lot of power?”
Silence fell in the car, with just about everyone looking at Baltic.
He raised one eyebrow, but said nothing.
“Please don’t make me elbow you in front of everyone,” Ysolde told him.
His lips twitched.
“You’re a big boy, Baltic,” Aisling said, one possessive hand on her dragon’s thigh. “I think you’ll survive doling out a little info.”
He looked like he wanted to dispute that fact, but after a moment of looking profoundly martyred, he said, “He is the first of the Firstborn, son of a fury and a demigod. He has power, yes.”
“Iceni was a fury?” Ysolde asked him, looking surprised.
“Who—” I started to ask.
“Iceni was the First Dragon’s mate, and mom to all the Firstborn children other than Baltic, whose mom was a dragon,” May told me.
“That is not correct,” Baltic said, his expression now thoughtful, as well. “Yrian and ... another of the Firstborn were the children of a fury. The First Dragon was with her before he found Iceni, who bore two more sons and a daughter.”
“A fury? Those aren’t around anymore, are they?” Aisling asked Drake, who shook his head.
“Not in the mortal world, no. I assume they are in the Beyond or some underworld,” he answered.
The dragons continued discussing that while I considered my options.
I waited until there was a break in the conversation before saying, “My concern is not so much with who Yrian’s mother was, but whether or not he had the sort of power that meant I couldn’t easily hide his essence, if you will. Beings of power are harder to glamour.”
“You just said no one could detect your glamour,” Gabriel said with a little frown.
“I said the people at the Asile wouldn’t be able to do so, but I am not the son of a demigod and a fury, with what I can only imagine is a lot of power of his own.
I’m concerned that if he’s all that and a pickle on the side, then someone devoted to security might be aware that a being of unusual abilities was hidden by the glamour,” I explained.
“But you did just fine with Sally,” May protested. “Like you mentioned—no one in Abaddon ever caught on to her true self, and she had a crap ton of power at that time.”
“Yes, but she gave me a fetish.” I dug through my memories of ten years or so in the past. “I drew on that when creating the glamours, and that gave both it and Sally the oomph she needed to pass as a demon lord. I don’t suppose any of you have something like a talisman or juju owned by Yrian?”
No one answered me.
“I didn’t think so,” I said on a sigh, and looked out of the window at the passing scenery.
We were well and truly in the French countryside now, with the sun pouring down onto red-tile-roofed villages, crumbling chateaus, and verdant hills spilling down to silvery rivers.
As we curled around a road that wound upward, I realized the cream stone building that sat atop had to be the Asile itself.
“That doesn’t look like a mental hospital,” Aisling said as everyone peered out at the building when we crested the hill and pulled into a cobblestoned parking area. “It looks like Drake’s chateau in the south.”
“I assume it was a chateau before the Committee took it over for the L’au-dela,” Drake answered, holding out a hand for Aisling as we all piled out of the car. “Nonetheless, I believe the artificer has a point.”
I got out slowly, feeling like I had ants crawling all over my skin. I recognized a particular symptom common to artificers, and moved around so that the car was between me and the building, the urge inside me building until I knew I had to do something.
“Becket?” May asked, glancing toward me.
“Sorry. I have to discharge,” I told them, with a deep breath, focused. “I’ll try to do it quietly. Just ignore me for a few minutes.”
“Discharge what?” I heard Ysolde asking as I closed my eyes for a moment, allowing the music that always seemed to be simmering in the back of my head to come forward, my brain randomly picking a song that had sufficient energy to let me discharge the buildup of magic that came from weaving so many glamours in a short amount of time.
The music crashed over me, and I started singing softly to myself, my body moving to a stomping beat that I found most efficient for this purpose.
For the next three minutes, the only sound was the distant drone of traffic, my whispered song, and the occasional scuff of my shoes on cobblestones as I danced out my discomfort.
I kept my gaze on a tree in the distance, forcing the buildup of magic out of me and back into the world, where it would rebind itself with the life force of living things.
“Is she singing ‘Run the World’?” I heard Aisling ask Ysolde.
“I think so. She’s very good at dancing. I wonder if she knows that ballerina who helped us out with Jim’s parents,” she answered.
“She even sounds like Beyoncé,” May told her dragon. “This is really amazing. I wonder if I should film it for Charity?”
I lifted a hand to shake it at May before finishing up the discharge (and song). Thankfully, she understood and put away the phone she’d pulled out.
The ladies sang the last chorus with me when I shook out the remnants of the magic buildup.
“It’s too bad Becket isn’t a dragon,” Jim said when I turned back, feeling much more like I could cope with life. “If she was, she could join the Mates Union, and you could have a girl band.”
“I already have a band,” I said, giving everyone a rueful smile. “Sorry about that. Singing always helps me focus, and moving my body lets me purge the extra magic that builds up when I create glamours. Is that ... is that what I think it is?”
The dragons, who had all been facing me as I did my little song and dance, turned back toward the Asile.
We were parked at the narrow end of the building, one that consisted of a covered entrance, double Gothic-arched doors, and, higher up, narrow windows that looked like they had the original glass still installed.
But it was the darkness that oozed around the corner that stopped me cold.
I realized after a moment of staring at it that it was a being.
A cowled and faceless being, extremely tall and draped in black flowing garments that seemed to move without any help from a passing breeze, headed toward us. The terror that rolled off it had me fighting to keep from bolting down the winding road.
“Oh lord. Hashmallim,” Aisling said, taking a step closer to Drake. “Er ... do we say hello?”
“Absolutely not,” he said, moving in front of her, obviously blocking the Hashmallim from seeing her. “We have nothing to do with them other than bringing the weyr ambassador here.”