The Dragon Round (Dragon #1)(101)

There’s no one there, just two sandals tied to a cord that extends up and onto the dome.

Ject hears three whistles behind him and after the first he’s running for the door. After the second, as quickly as they come, he has the door latch. At the third he pushes in. The door chunks solid against its bar. Why? Ject thinks. He watches the shadow of the dragon’s head and neck slither over the wall toward him. He’s wheeling around to brain it with the crossbow when his left shoulder explodes in pain.

The dragon shakes him until his weapon is flung away, then it lifts him half over the balustrade. Ject’s fingers briefly find a hold, which lets him jam his legs through the balusters and wrap his feet around them. The dragon shakes him more violently. He won’t be able to hold on for long, but the guards should arrive soon.

More tiles give way beneath the dragon, and it releases Ject before it tumbles off the dome. The general sits down hard on the balustrade. His sash, bitten through, plunges into the city, weighted down by so many medals. Ject tips backward, but catches his feet in the balusters and hauls himself back up as the dragon regains its footing.

“I only wanted justice,” Jeryon says. “I only wanted my due. Is that too much to ask?”

“I can get you that,” Ject says.

“Not after all this.”

The dragon snaps at Ject, but he’s just out of reach, so it rears its head in anticipation and glances at Jeryon.

Ject loosens one foot from a baluster. If he could get to the foyer door he could dive through the flames into the tower. With a wince, though, he realizes that his ankle’s broken. He can’t run. So he considers letting himself fall. He might survive. There’s a precedent.

Decades ago, after the tower was heightened and the blue dome built, the widow’s walk was open to all. People came from every city in the League and every town in between. Lines wrapped all through the plaza, whatever the weather. Couples signed partner agreements on the walk. Owners signed contracts. People picnicked and shouted. They dreamed and escaped. Then they started to jump.

One a month, five, ten. Leathers and silk. Rookery, Harbor, and Crest. The walk drew so many visitors the Council didn’t want to close it, so guards were stationed on the walk and trained to identify jumpers. One of those guards eventually jumped. Some jumpers had been ruined. Many saw no way to fortune. A few were successful and apparently content. Countless were the couples that couldn’t afford to partner. And one man tossed his three sedated children into the plaza; he didn’t jump himself. The terrace became a death trap.

A woman named Uly was the person who lived. A huge councilor broke her fall. He died, and as a result the walk was closed, the doors above the offices were locked, and Uly, still in a coma, was put in a gibbet with her shattered legs and hips.

The smallest chance is better than none, Ject thinks. Just tip back and let go.

He can’t. He says, “But the girl’s all right. We could find a way to make things work out.”

“I’m done trusting this city.”

“You could rule it. You have a dragon. And you could confiscate . . .”

“I only wanted to serve. Look where it’s gotten us.”

Ject can’t look at the dragon, so he looks past Jeryon and sees a shadow appear above the wall of the cupola. It’s Herse with a loaded crossbow.

6



* * *



As Jeryon circles the cupola Tristaban squeezes her eyes shut. She’s grateful Herse had the foresight to leave her bound. Otherwise, Jeryon might have had the dragon eat her before she got away. And if she had escaped, who knows what he might have done in retaliation. He knows where she lives. He knows where her father lives. He might have burned them out.

Herse thinks of everything. He’s played the Council as perfectly as she played her father when it came to partnering with Livion. What they could do together. Yes, he was born in the gutter, but look how he’s risen. And once he plunders Ayden, his wave will crest. She should ride it. His share could make him nearly as powerful as her father, maybe more so. What’s Livion in comparison? A pair of boots. Herse is the whole uniform.

Why did those boots make her so foolish? At least Livion was the bigger fool. His feelings made him blind to their contract’s bottom line. She severs it, and he’ll be due just a small dowry. She could, in fact, pay it herself. She will, she decides, and she’ll arrange her next partnership herself. The way Herse touched her cheek: She can make him sign just like Livion did. And let her father squawk if he doesn’t like it. She’s won’t be his Little Doll anymore. It’s time to put herself on the top shelf.

When she hears it land on the dome below the cupola, she rolls aside and thumps the trapdoor with her heels. Herse opens it from below, having had the foresight to hide on the ladder when the dragon started circling in order to find whoever fired the bolt. He climbs up with the crossbow. She says, “He’s down there.”

“I knew you were tough,” he says, and returns to the wall. Before hiding, he’d seen how Jeryon maneuvered the dragon, making it move and turn, dive and rise, with a combination of whistles, reins, and knees. It shouldn’t take him long to master. Herse aims the crossbow at Jeryon’s back.

Jeryon removes his sandals and ties them to a cord he takes from a saddlebag. He casts them over the edge of the dome to his right like a fishing line, plays it a bit, then whistles three times. The dragon’s head lashes out. It catches something and rises. Ject’s face appears. The dragon shakes him ruthlessly, but Ject can’t be thrown over the balustrade. The dragon lets go.