Dragon Rule - E. E. Knight [15]
AuRon told her once that his friend Naf—now long since King Naf of Dairuss—had hidden in this tangled border country while hiding with his rebels from the Red Queen of the Ghioz. It was a good land for someone who wanted to hide. Vesk after vesk of steep-sided river valleys, thickly wooded and vined, were inspiring from the air, but even a long-necked dragon would easily become disoriented on the ground.
She made a gentle call, both to alert the eagles so they wouldn’t be startled by her presence and to announce her arrival.
She glided into the Queen’s cave. It had a good view of the west and was warmed by the setting sun. She marked a few reinforcing pillars—someone had gone to the trouble to enlarge the cave. She’d visited a few times before, years ago when the flightless Queen had first been installed in her high resort. Since then, it had been much improved.
A few blighters, long-armed, hairy collections of appetites known for their strong backs and quick quarrels, greeted her with offerings of water, sweet wine, and toasted meat on wooden skewers. They wore colorful ponchos closed with brooches of green dragonscale. She accepted a little of each offering as an unusually tall blighter, with a careful request for permission in passable Drakine, massaged her wing tendons, first on one side, then the other.
The Queen had a homey cave. It had better air flowing through than the cave of her birth and the faint sounds rising from the thick forest below soothed when the air was still.
An aged griffaran, almost featherless and droopy, stood sentinel on a hidden perch. A platter that smelled of fish stood near him on its own treelike stand. She wondered if he was some veteran of a dozen battles, now in a pleasantly airy sinecure as honor guard to the Queen. His beak and talon still appeared razor sharp, so perhaps it wasn’t just for show.
Later it occurred to Wistala that the Queen might have encouraged eagles to build their tangled nests and settle about her quarters like a kindlewood crown. A dragon couldn’t have too many sets of wary eyes to give the alarm when living above ground.
There would be many an eagle jealous of that view, Wistala thought. Her cave looked out over sharp, rocky pillars with little soil, but what had collected in the nooks and crevices sprouted wind-twisted trees. Low clouds made the lush valley floors, echoing with the sound of rivers and waterfalls, hazy or invisible. Off to the west, a thin strip of the inland ocean could just be seen. Wistala, judging the sun’s descent, decided that no matter what the Queen’s concerns she wouldn’t miss the view of the sunset.
She heard breathing from deeper inside the cave.
“My Queen, you called for me?”
“Ages ago, it seems. Thank you for coming. I long for company.”
Wistala ambled into the Queen’s presence and they clacked griff in greeting. Neither bothered with bows, they were relatives by mating fight. Nilrasha had lost her taste for courtly gestures since the war injury that left her with stumps for wings.
Queen Nilrasha was still beautiful, but it was the beauty of a ruin, like the old, fern-sided, weather-shaped stones of Tumbledown where she’d hunted for metals as an unfledged drakka. Her scales were still well-shaped, and she was still strong-limbed—probably stronger-limbed than most dragons, having to rely on them for climbing all the way up to her resort. She had a well-shaped head, which reminded her a little of AuRon’s mate Natasatch about the nostrils and eyes, though the Queen’s fringe, the pride of any dragonelle or dragon-dame, was clipped and stiffened and shaped into pleasing waves running down her back. Natasatch had a natural crest, much like Wistala’s—a little ragged and bent from wear and fighting.
Only a little paint highlighted some of the scale around her eyes, nostrils, jawline, and griff. White polished teeth added to her other carefully groomed attractions. Wistala was relieved that the Queen didn’t color her scale any of the garish pinks and purples