have been irregular, and we have ordered our force to remain where they are until they are successful.’
‘Well. At least we have not had word of their failure, yet.’
‘No, glorious one. There is still hope.’
‘Hope. You, perhaps, hope. I demand. Chancellor, do you hope that your name will survive you?’
A terrible stillness seized the man. His Duke knew his most vulnerable spot. ‘Yes, Lord.’ His words were a whisper.
‘And you, you have not only an heir-son, but a second son as well?’
The Duke was gratified when the man’s voice shook. ‘I am so blessed, yes, gracious one.’
‘Mmm.’ The Duke of Chalced tried to clear his throat, but coughed instead, the sound triggering a scuttling of servants. A fresh bowl of chilled water was offered, as was a steaming cup of tea. A clean white cloth awaited in the hands of another knee-walking servant, while yet another offered a glass of wine.
A tiny flick of his hand dismissed them all. He drew a rasping breath.
‘Two sons, Chancellor. And so you hope. But I have no son. And my health fails for lack of one small thing. A simple remedy of dragon’s blood is all I have asked. Yet it has not been brought to me. I wonder: is it right that you have so much hope that your name will remain loud in the world’s ear, while mine will be silenced for that lack? Surely not.’
Slowly the man grew smaller. Before his lord’s stare, he collapsed in on himself, his head falling to his bent knees, and then his whole body sinking down, conveying physically his wish to be beneath his duke’s notice.
The Duke of Chalced moved his mouth, a memory of a smile.
‘For today, you may keep both your sons. Tomorrow? Tomorrow, we both hope for good news.’
‘This way.’
Someone lifted the heavy flap of canvas that served as a door. A slice of light stabbed into the gloom, but as swiftly vanished, to be replaced by yellow lamplight. The two-headed dog in the stall next to his whined and shifted. Selden wondered when the poor beast had last seen daylight, real daylight. The crippled creature had already been in residence when Selden had been acquired. For him, it had been months, perhaps as long as a year, since he had felt the sun’s touch. Daylight was the enemy of mystery. Daylight could reveal that half of the wonders and legends displayed in the tented bazaar’s shoddy stalls were either freaks or fakes. And daylight could reveal that even those with some claim to being genuine were in poor health.
Like him.
The lantern light came closer, the yellow glare making his eyes water. He turned his face away from it and closed his eyes. He didn’t get up. He knew the exact length of the chains attached to his ankles, and he had tried his strength against theirs when they had first brought him here. They had grown no weaker, but he had. He lay as he was and waited for the visitors to pass. But they halted in front of his stall.
‘That’s him? I thought he would be big! He’s no bigger than an ordinary man.’
‘He’s tall. You don’t notice it so much when he’s curled up like that.’
‘I can hardly see him, back in that corner. Can we go in?’
‘You don’t want to go inside the reach of his chain.’
Silence fell, and then the men spoke in low voices. Selden didn’t move. That they were discussing him didn’t interest him in the least. He’d lost the ability to feel embarrassed or even humiliated. He still missed clothing, badly, but mainly because he was cold. Sometimes, between shows, they would toss him a blanket, but as often as not they forgot. Few of those who tended him spoke his language, so begging for one did him no good. Slowly it came to his feverish brain that it was unusual that the two men discussing him were speaking a language he knew. Chalcedean. His father’s tongue, learned in a failed effort to impress his father. He did not move or give them any sign that he was aware of them, but began to listen more closely.
‘Hey! Hey, you. Dragon boy! Stand up. Give the man a look at you.’
He could ignore them. Then, like as not, they would throw something at him to make him move. Or they would begin to turn the winch that tightened the chain on his ankle. He’d either have to walk to the back wall or be dragged there. His captors feared him and ignored his claims to be human. They always tightened his chain when they came in to rake out the straw that covered the floor of his stall. He sighed and uncoiled his body and came slowly to his feet.
One of the men gasped. ‘He is tall! Look at the length of his legs! Does he have a tail?’
‘No. No tail. But he’s scaled all over. Glitters like diamonds if you take him out in the daylight.’
‘So, bring him out. Let me see him in the light.’
‘No. He doesn’t like it.’
‘Liar.’ Selden spoke clearly. The lantern was blinding him but he spoke to the second of the two shapes he could discern. ‘He doesn’t want you to see that I’m sick. He doesn’t want you to see that I’m breaking out in sores, that my ankle is ulcerated from this chain. Most of all, he doesn’t want you to see that I’m just as human as you are.’
‘He talks!’ The man sounded more impressed than dismayed.
‘That he does. But you are wiser not to listen to anything he says. He is part dragon, and all know that a dragon can make a man believe anything.’
‘I am not part dragon! I am a man, like you, changed by the favour of a dragon.’ Selden tried to put force behind his shout, but he had no strength.
‘You see how he lies. We do not answer him. To let him engage you in conversation is to fall to his wiles. Doubtless that was how his mother was seduced by a dragon.’ The man cleared his throat. ‘So. You have seen him. My master is reluctant to sell him, but says he will listen to your offer, since you have come so far.’
‘My mother … ? That is preposterous! A wild tale not even a child would believe. And you can’t sell me. You don’t own me!’ Selden lifted a hand and tried to shield his eyes to see the man. It didn’t help. And his words didn’t even provoke a response. Abruptly, he felt foolish. None of this had ever been about the language barrier. It had always been about their unwillingness to see him as anything other than a valuable freak.
They continued their conversation as if he had never spoken.
‘Well, you know I’m only acting as a go-between. I’m not buying him for myself. Your master asks a very high price. The man I represent is wealthy, but the wealthy are stingier than the poor, as the saying goes. If I spend his coin and the dragon-man disappoints him, coin is not all he will demand of me.’
They were silhouettes before his watering eyes. Two men he didn’t know at all, arguing over how much his life was worth. He took a step toward them, dragging his chain through the musty straw. ‘I’m sick! Can’t you see that? Haven’t you got any decency at all? You keep me chained here, you feed me half-rotted meat and stale bread, I never see daylight … You’re killing me. You’re murdering me!’
‘The man I’m representing needs proof before
