Page 133 of Red Dragon
It wasn’t loathsome,Wreylith said.But I did not initiate it. I contemplated biting off his head afterward, but you’d disappeared into the laboratory by then.
“And you were worried about me?” Syla asked, catching Fel mouthing, “Biting off his head?”
I was concerned that if you died, nobody would arrange the delivery of the agreed-upon livestock.
“That would be terrible. You’ve worked hard and deserve those horn hogs.”
Yes. Step forward and raise your hand. We will bond.
“Now? Is there a ceremony? Anything I have to do?”
The domesticated dragons allow the humans to get naked and chant and sing and paint themselves while their wing mates watch. What a cacophony. It is not necessary. More, it is foolish, since the stormer riders then wear gloves to hide themark of the dragon, lest others know of their enhanced powers.Wreylith squinted at Syla as she stepped forward, stopping a few feet in front of the dragon.You will not hide your mark. All will know that you have bonded with me, and, if they are wise, they will bring me offerings.
As Syla raised her hand, nerves fluttered in her belly. “Will I have to do anything? Besides mentioning to my people that you are agreeable to accepting offerings?”
The bond will allow me to pass through the sky shield on whatever island you stand upon, and I may hunt while you go about your day.
“And that’s all you want out of the deal?”
Should I need it, you will assist me, just as I will assist you.Wreylith lifted her forelimb, showing the faint scar that remained in her foot from her encounter with a basilisk fang.
“That’s fair.”
Yes. The other hand. The mark of a dragon may not supersede the mark of a god.
“Oh.” The nerves returned as Syla lifted her birthmark-free hand.
It didn’t help that more smoke wafted from Wreylith’s nostrils. She told herself that Vorik’s mark was a tattoo, not a burn scar. Wreylith wasn’t about to light her on fire.
She’d no sooner had the thought than the red dragon’s maw parted, and flames appeared in the back of her throat. Syla’s instincts told her to leap away, but she rooted her feet into the ground. She didn’t turn her face away or close her eyes though that fang-filled maw was a terrifying sight. Something told her she had to be brave right now and show that she trusted Wreylith.
Yes, the dragon said as if reading her thoughts. Did she sound amused?
Before Syla could contemplate it further, blue-tinged yellow fire flowed out from between Wreylith’s jaws.
“Syla!” Teyla blurted in alarm. From the side, she must not have seen the building flames.
Surprisingly, they were only warm, not inferno-hot, as dragon fire usually was. The coloring was strange, almost a rainbow as the flames danced all around Syla. The heat grew warmer, especially on the back of her left hand, and magic tingled and made her skin itch, almost burning it. She gritted her teeth.
“Syla?” came Fel’s uncertain voice.
Through the flames, he was visible with his trusty mace.
“It’s all right,” she said. “I’m still alive.”
“You’resmoking.”
“It doesn’t hurt.”
Much. Long seconds passed with her hand burning, but Syla didn’t step back, for she also felt power flowing into her, the power of the dragon. It coursed through her veins, mingling with the magic of her gods-gift, making her feel vital and alive.
Now you will not need a tool to reach out to me,Wreylith said.You may use your power to speak into my mind across many miles when you wish to barter for assistance that takes me from an engaging hunt.
That’ll be handy.
Wreylith snorted and lifted her head, the flames dying out.
“Her clothes,” Teyla blurted.
