Page 174 of Dragon Outcast (Age of Fire 3)

“Why don’t you just call him Tyr? Did the Tyr name a new heir?”

“Careful, now. There’s the traditional one-year period of mourning.”

“Of course. I’m no courtier; I apologize.”

The Copper heard SiDrakkon’s voice as he passed through into the Tyr’s audience chamber. It was smaller than he remembered it, perhaps because of the crowd. Griffaran crowded the upper areas, two to a perch, looking agitated.

“We’ll speak with one voice. United. I’m Tyr and that’s all there is to it,” SiDrakkon said. “They’ll have to accept it. The succession is legal and according to tradition. The worst thing we can do is divide and argue like this. Blood could be spilled at any moment.”

Imfamnia lounged at his side, looking as though she were enjoying the view down on the Imperial line.

“I still say NiVom should have a proper trial,” Ibidio said. She stood just below the shelf. “One Anklene, one Skotl, and one Wyrr judging him.”

“Mother, not that again,” Imfamnia said. “He’s violent. War-worn, I expect.”

“He ran from a challenge. He’s not going to appear for a trial,” SiDrakkon said.

“You seem very sure of that,” SiMevolant put in airily. He’d dusted his golden scales with ash for the occasion; otherwise he would have outshone the whole room.

“Are you implying anything?”

“Imply? Me? I come right out and say things. I’ve no ambition to conceal. I was just wondering if you’d had him killed, is all.”

SiDrakkon turned a deeper shade of purple. “Of course not! Shut your snout if you’ve nothing to offer but blather. Talk! Talk! Talk! Talk! That’s all the whole lot of you is good for. We have to act. Let’s go out there and tell them something before flame begins to fly.”

“Yes, I think that would be for the best,” a raspy voice said.

The company hushed, and Tighlia emerged from behind the curtains. Both griff were down, and her wings dragged in mourning. She cleared her throat, but could produce only a rather loud whisper: “I won’t have all that my mate worked for destroyed. If we go out and present a united line, they’ll accept SiDrakkon. Well?”

SiDrakkon glowered down at everyone, and Imfamnia looked warily at her future sister.

“If no one’s dragon enough to venture out first, I shall,” Tighlia said, moving toward the door down one of the silver waterfalls.

“No, Granddam,” the Copper said. “I’ll go out first. No faction can do much worse to me than life’s already done.”

“What a way to begin your reign, Tyr SiDrakkon,” SiMevolant said. “A lame half-wit announcing your ascendance.”

“And a garrulous bit of rabbit fluff bringing up the rear, no doubt,” Tighlia croaked. “Go on, RuGaard; show us what you’re made of.”

“I’ll lead, blast it,” SiDrakkon said. “Are you coming, Imfamnia?”

“You must be joking,” she said, staying on her shelf. “I had dung thrown at me on the way in. They’re like humans.”

They began to file out, and the Copper felt a pressure on his saa. It came from Ibidio, who maneuvered him into an alcove between half-melted war trophies as the others walked past.

“Ummmm, RuGaard, is it now?” She glanced around to make sure none were listening, not even thralls. Outside, the crowed roared as the doors opened.

“Yes,” the Copper said.

“You had the Uphold at the end of the western road. Did NiVom come your way?”

“If he had, I certainly wouldn’t give him away. He was a good friend.”

“I believe he’s being hunted.”

The Copper heard SiDrakkon roaring out a few emphatic words. A good deal of noise came back from the crowd.

“The Tyr came to me last night. He said he’d selected a new heir. He told me if anything happened to him, to ask you.”

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