Covet

::: subchapter I watched Ushra's black eyes as he stepped in. They were orbs almost sunken in a face hundreds of gyras old, and there were depths to those eyes. Whatever sense of dragons I might have, I wouldn't push it trying to read Ushra. Those eyes were lingering on the orange drake high-walking in. The ancient alchemist was frowning. Under that gaze, Adwyn entered. A red dress was flowing under him, swishing as he walked in, gleaming in the fain light of the loversuns. His metallic-red eyes met mine as he entered, then he glanced around the room and his gaze settled on the dark-jade wiver. "Ah, Gronte-gyfar. Greetings," he said, and inclined his head with it. His brilles were clouding in a way which had them glinting slightly in the sunslight, and he may have missed the brief frown on the old wiver's face. Turning to our end of the slab, he added, "And hello, Specter-eti, Gären-eti. I was looking for you both, in fact." I saw Hinte lean forward, and I waved my tongue, murmuring, "What winds that we're both here, then." Stabbing a bit of chicken and lifting it to my mouth I stared at him through a window's reflection. I wondered whether someone could have listened in on our conversation last night, and I chewed. The military adviser looked to me, smirking. He said, "Not quite a coincidence, you see." I coughed a bit, the meat choking a little in my throat. "I had come to meet you first, Kinri-cyf. But then I saw you flying and decided to follow you here." There was a careless toss of his head before he added, "You aren't quite observant." "Come and sit, Adwyn-sofran," Gronte said, waving at the two empty mats. The orange drake lay down in the spot beside me. He did that on purpose, he had to. "And now, we only need to wait for Digrif." I glanced up to the ceiling, some tile pattern looking even less colorful than the black and brown floor. Up there were thirty-six hexagon tiles in a skirmboard pattern, dark gray on darker gray. I tapped a thoughtful rhythm on my snout. Would it take long for Digrif to get here? The warm-gray drake would show up to games long past the first act, sometimes past even the second act. When he checked out scrolls from the library, he'd always turn them in late, at least back when I had been volunteering. And while he often came by the Llygaid Crwydro putting in orders for tools or supplies, not once had he come by to pick them up. Someone else always had. Briefly, Digrif was terrible about showing up to anything on time. But he'd seemed excited about Hinte's exploits last night. Maybe he'd show up earlier because of that? ...After Hinte had finished her plate, after I had started my second chicken, after Staune had fully crunched Ushra's proffered nut, after Gronte finally started eating her food, after Ushra had filled his leaf of fernpaper and then begun talking with Staune in whispered Drachenzunge, after so many well-measured moments, it really seemed I had been expecting too much. After more conversation, after more impatient glances leveled at Hinte, there at last came that long-awaited knock⁠ ⁠---⁠ it could only be Digrif. Ushra left again and you heard a quick exchange from the hall and then a slam of the door. The light-green drake returned alone. "Who was that?" I asked. "Some of those ashwitted Dychwelfa ac Dwylla dregs. Such a waste of time." Then, almost under his breath, he added, "We never would have tolerated these orts back in the forests." "Why not?" He whisked a wing. "Religions and similar residua are banned in the forests." He settled back on his mat, letting his parrot Staune nibble on his sweet root. Gronte coughed, said, "Were banned. You know that's not the case anymore." This time he whisked the wing at Gronte. "Feh. It is their own erosion. The ashes are not the forests, and I shall not consider them so. I've nothing to do with them." Dropped my chicken, peering at Ushra, I asked, "How is that even possible?" My foot was still tapping on my snout. "That's like saying you've banned art or something." "Ah yes, we did try that once, but it... did not work so very well. Easier to let dragons waste their and energy as is their wont." At that I widened my frills a bit, and saw the adviser do the same. Gronte let her head rest on a foreleg, clouding her brilles. Before I could ask what he meant, a purple parrot bounced back in through the doorway and fluttered onto the slab. "Ceya, I have returned!" said the bird. Wasn't he checking on some Monsoon or something? Gronte looked at the parrot, a glare angling into her frills. "I didn't hear the hatch open, Versta. When ask you to do something, I expect that you do it, not lie about it." "But⁠ ⁠---" "Check on Monsun, Versta." The bird spread his wings and fell backward from the slab. Landing on his feet he disappeared through the door once again. "What is Monsoon?" I asked. Gronte glanced at the dark-green wiver. Tapping her locket, she said, "Another parrot of ours, one who is not in adequate health." "Why doesn't Versta want to check on them? Is it just him acting hatchy again?" "It is... private. I'd rather not discuss it with strangers." "Oh oops, I'm sorry." Adwyn was still looking at Ushra. "Did the forests truly ban art? It seems a little... difficult to believe." "No," started Gronte, "Ushra is just twisting history for a joke. There was a time when the paints and parchments used by artists were scarce and restricted for us in war, but that was long before even the rule of clans, and it was hardly systemic." Beside me, Hinte clenched her feet together and looked at the orange drake. She asked him, "Why were you looking for us." "Ah yes, that. I⁠ ⁠---" Another knock came from the door, just before the first long ring. In reply a trill came up from the empty mat and Versta poked his head up, looking to Staune, who was perched over the nut I'd given her. "Ueh, Toastyfeathers! Wanna bet that's not the one either? I'll take yer nut." The old wiver stood up with a sharp glance at the purple parrot. Her voice came slow and deliberate, sounding more dangerous than when she had seemed a pitch from shouting. "Versta, what are you doing in here?" I found myself almost dewing sorry for the little bird. The purple parrot ducked back under the slab while the dark-jade wiver stalked around to him. He darted out from the slab between me and Hinte, running then leaping for the doorway while we watched. Gronte followed him out, slipping into muttered Drachenzunge that didn't sound very nice at all, at all. "Poor bird." Hinte dipped her head. "What was he expecting?" Adwyn had watched this happen out with that same disquieted look he had worn when he saw the humans. "What is this all about?" I glanced around the slab. Gronte had left, and so had Ushra sometime while I hadn't been looking. "This is the third time Gronte-sofran asked him to go check on one of their other parrots, who's sick." "Ah." Adwyn licked his eyes, and said, "It's unsightly, you know. Hearing an animal talk. Is it a forest-dweller thing, or are Ushra's magics stranger than I've heard?" The red bird squawked at Adwyn and spread her wings, but Hinte stopped her with a tonguesnap. "Come here, little hen," the wiver said, and she held out her alula and the red parrot flew over to perch there. Looking back to the drake, Hinte said, "No.Dragon-tongued parrots have been around for thousands of gyras. Our histories speak of our parrots in the same breath as snakes or monitors." Staune cawed and added in Hinte's voice, "And Ushra is an alchemist, not a magician." "You hardly have a head large enough to correct me, little hen." When Staune squawked and flew at him the dark-green wiver didn't try to stop her ---⁠ but Ushra stepped through the door just after the red bird took to the air. "Staune," was all he said. The bird landed just so, and looked back at the old drake. But her head lowered, and she scuffed her way back to Ushra's filled fernpaper⁠ ⁠---⁠ not before kicking her foot out at the orange drake. Behind Ushra, a familiar drake dragon trailed into the room. "Wow Hinte!" was his greeting. "I knew you were up to something awesome, but I didn't expect you had been adventuring!" His wings hitched up and down in excitement. He vibrated. Hinte groaned. "I was not adventuring." "She wasn't," I echoed in her defense. "It really wasn't that much of an adventure." "You traveled deep into unmapped parts of cliffs! You fought monsters! You two are totally adventurers," he said as he stepped into the room, laying himself on the other side of Hinte. Hecking Adwyn. Why did I have to sit next a freaky canyon-dweller instead of Digrif? "We didn't do a whole lot, though," I said." "The point is moot, perhaps," said Adwyn. "I glimpse Hinte is the hero of the day." Adwyn saw me frowning at him, and he returned a pale-eyed, lip-twitching glance. I was a hero too, wasn't I? I sighed, my frills drooping like the sad willows in the front yard. I returned to staring at the tiles on the ceiling. "Digrif-ychy has finally arrived," started Gronte as she high-walked back into the room. She continued, "So, now that we are all present,"⁠ ⁠---⁠ she tapped her locket, Hinte, can you tell us what did happen out in the lake last night?" ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Hinte told her story, one foot held over the other. Looking down at her feet, she started only at smelling the blood and sweat. Gronte had stopped eating partway through, watching her granddaughter with worried looks and clutching her locket. Ushra, on the other foot, seemed to continue eating his meal as he listened, moving his utensils, but on closer inspection, no part of his plate had grown smaller as the story went on. Adwyn picked at his claws, looking around the slab at Ushra and me. And on the last foot, Digrif hadn't wavered a bit in his excitement. When Hinte reached the point where the humans attack