Dragon Rule - E. E. Knight [45]
“News?” the Copper asked.
“Pillithea’s eggs have hatched, over in Wyrr hill,” NoSohoth said, knowing his Tyr’s interest in the next generation. “She was old-fashioned about it and the males fought, but I managed to save the loser. He’s in the Drakwatch caves with Mulnessa, widow to CuSupfer.”
CuSupfer was a member of the Aerial Host killed in the fight with the Rocs over Ghioz.
“Good. She should name him after CuSupfer. I won’t have any losers in hatching fights not given a proper, honorable name.”
Humans may make the same mistakes generation after generation, but he’d be descaled if he repeated the errors of his parents.
“I believe she has done exactly that,” NoSohoth said, with a tone that suggested that if she hadn’t, she would shortly at a gently placed hint from a dragon at the Tyr’s ear as wealthy as NoSohoth.
“See that both Pillithea and Mulnessa have plenty of Imperial thralls to attend them, under the usual conditions that once the hatchlings breathe their first fire the thralls will be their property to keep or sell as they choose, with the usual messages of gratitude from myself and Nilrasha.”
“Done and done. My Tyr does enjoy checking up on me.”
“You look as though there’s bad news behind the good,” the Copper said.
“I’m afraid so, my Tyr. There’s problems with the oliban trade. Perhaps it’s not so critical, now with the Lavadome less crowded, but so many of the trees have been harvested now, the ones left are small and at great height.”
Oliban was a sort of sap from rare trees that looked like citrine quartz when properly dried. Burned in the plentiful braziers used for light and warmth deep in the dragon caves, it produced a pleasing, soothing aroma that relaxed dragons. It was traditionally burned whenever dragons met in groups to keep tempers from flaring.
“We must see about replanting it elsewhere, in suitable soil,” the Copper said. It never ceased to amaze, the matters that came under his nose. One day the proper burning of a dead egg, the next horticulture. He’d made a study of oliban, just as he had kern and other products necessary to draconic health and comfort. “The Ankelenes can do a survey of places where it might grow. There’s less need for kern now, perhaps in Anaea.”
His old uphold had rich volcanic soil. Or did oliban need sea air to thrive? Something about salt, he’d have to ask the Ankelenes.
“Yes, my Tyr.”
“We should have attended to this before,” the Copper muttered.
“Hard to think about a few loose tail-scale when there are swords about your throat,” NoSohoth said.
“What else do you have for me. Briefly, please, for I am tired.”
“Nothing that can’t wait until you’ve rested from your flight and enjoyed a few meals. There’s some rather good blind bonefish in the larder.”
“I’ll spend a few hours in the Audience Chamber. I can try to keep myself awake. I don’t want my dragons to think themselves unattended. I’ll be on the shelf in one hour; see there’s some coin to pass around.”
“Just some poor Hypatian amalgams. Next to worthless.”
“Well, there’ll be some gold from the sack at Swayport shortly.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” NoSohoth said. “I rather think the Imperial Treasury spends more on the Empire than it gets in return. If it weren’t for NiVom squeezing what he can out of the Ghioz, we’d be destitute.”
“We? You mean me, you old hoardbug,” the Copper said.
“My Tyr, have I ever denied you grateful coin?”
“No. I’ll think about finances later.