Up in Smoke - Katie MacAlister [36]
“You are Tauhou, silver wyvern,” she said, stopping in front of Gabriel. She spoke with a clipped Chinese accent, the words shooting out of her as if they were bullets. As someone rather lacking in the height department, I seldom see women much smaller than me, but this dragon was a good couple inches shorter, something that was not reflected in her personality—there was an aura of power about her that made the air feel full of static.
He made her a bow. “I have that pleasure. This is my mate, May.”
The woman’s dark-eyed glance brushed over me with an indifference that relieved me. As a rule I disliked being the center of anyone’s attention—anyone but Gabriel—but especially so when I was wearing a valuable treasure in a room full of dragons. “I am Bao. I am wyvern of the red dragons. You will recognize me as such.”
Chapter Eight
I stared with everyone else as the small woman made her surprising statement.
“Indeed. Chuan Ren is dead, then?” Gabriel asked politely.
“No.” Bao tossed her head. She had short, spiky hair, and an attitude to match. “She remains in Abaddon. I have taken over the sept. This is Jian, her son. He will tell you that she wished for me to be wyvern should anything happen to her.”
A tall, lanky man next to her placed his hand on his chest, giving both Gabriel and me a little bow, but he said nothing. I wondered how he felt about someone stepping into his mother’s shoes.
“You must come and meet the others,” Gabriel said after acknowledging Jian. “They will be very interested to hear of Chuan Ren. How does she fare in Abaddon?”
Bao gave another head toss and proceeded in front of Gabriel. “That is immaterial. I rule the sept now, not Chuan Ren. She is gone, and I wish to meet the others.”
I took the hand Gabriel offered, glancing to the side at Jian as he followed his new wyvern over to where Drake and Kostya stood. Fiat moved to join them, making little coos of pleasure as he spoke to her.
“Shouldn’t her son take over as wyvern?” I asked Gabriel in a whisper a few moments later, as Bao was meeting the other wyverns.
“Not necessarily,” he said, a speculative gaze on Jian. His fingers tightened around mine. “Wyverns are picked by right of tanistry, not primogeniture, although the latter isn’t completely unknown. What I find interesting is that Chuan Ren has a child yet living. The others were killed in the Endless War.”
Jian, a tall figure, his head meekly inclined, stood behind the tiny Bao. He was a handsome man, I mused to myself, with high cheekbones and a sculpted look to his face that hinted he might be a model if he had been born mortal. He looked to be in his thirties, but that meant nothing—most beings in the Otherworld could control their appearance, settling on an age at which they felt comfortable. “He doesn’t look overly sad about the loss of his mother. Were they not close?”
Gabriel smiled for a moment. “I am not privy to the workings of the red dragons, but I sincerely doubt if anyone could be said to be close to Chuan Ren. Still, it is interesting, is it not?”
“Very.”
“The sárkány will start now,” Bao suddenly announced, plopping herself down in the chair at the head of the table.
Drake gave her a level look. “The weyr is not yet complete. We cannot start the sárkány until all wyverns are present.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You are here. The silver wyvern is here. So are the blue and black wyverns. How is it not complete?”
“How indeed,” Fiat said smoothly, taking the chair on the side of the table. “I have no doubt Drake is referring to that tiresome relative of mine who persists in delusions of controlling my sept. But as my dear uncle Bastian is not present to face the decision of the weyr, I believe we can proceed without him. And speaking of troublesome relatives . . .” He turned to Drake. “Where is your mate? Does she have so little respect for the laws governing the weyr that she refused to attend?”
“She is heavy with child,” Drake said, moving to stand behind the chair at the foot of the table. His two redheaded