Shadow Scale: A Companion to Seraphina(14)

“Mm,” said Kiggs, scraping the last porridge out of the bowl, scrupulously not looking at me.

Queen Lavonda, alas, was inconsolable. “We will continue this later, Seraphina,” said Glisselda apologetically, ushering me toward the door. I gave full courtesy again, wishing there were something I could do.

I turned my mind to what they’d told me. Six days was sooner than I could have anticipated. I headed back toward my suite, mentally taking stock of my travel clothing. I had none. I hoped there was time to have some made.

I detoured to visit Glisselda’s seamstress, who directed me to the seamstresses of the lower court. “There’s eight of them, maidy, so they can stitch eight gowns at once.”

I went down to the artisans’ wing, but my feet slowed as I approached the seamstresses’ workroom. I didn’t want eight gowns, not if I was going to go careening all over the Southlands on a horse. I retraced my steps and, after some hesitation, knocked on a different door.

A slight, balding man answered, spectacles clamped to his narrow nose, a measuring ribbon around his neck like a scarf.

“The ladies’—” he began, but I didn’t let him finish.

“How fast can you make riding breeches?” I asked. “I’ll want them well padded.”

The tailor smiled slightly and stood aside to let me in.



Abdo and Lars practiced linking minds outdoors over the next days, and they practiced a lot, fascinated by their own power. Queen Glisselda, Prince Lucian, and even Ardmagar Comonot would sometimes stand in the slushy courtyard, watching them. Abdo quickly learned to move the mind-net (as I had begun calling it) in a more controlled manner; for the Queen’s amusement he made wide bowl-shaped impressions with it in the melting snow, knocked icicles from the eaves, and caused doves to fly off the roof in panic. He took care not to hit the doves, I noted.

Glisselda sidled up to me as I watched. “Even if you fail to find any of the other ityasaari,” she said, taking my arm, “these two could do some good on their own.”

“That mind-net couldn’t protect this castle, let alone your city,” scoffed Ardmagar Comonot, who stood several feet away from us. In his saarantras, he was a short, stocky man with an aquiline nose and heavy jowls. He wore his dark hair slicked back against his head. “I calculate from its print in the snow a spheroid no more than fifteen feet across. They’ll be lucky to pull down one dragon at a time.”

“Every bit will help,” said Glisselda irritably. “They’ll be practiced enough to move it effectively, and the dragons won’t see it coming.”

“I can’t see it with these eyes, certainly,” muttered Comonot, “but I can’t vouch for my natural shape. Dragon eyesight is keener, and we can see into the ultraviolet—”

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake!” said the Queen, turning her back on him. “If I say the sky is blue, he’ll explain to me that it isn’t!”


“I had meant to tell you, Your Majesty,” I said, sensing that it was time to insert myself between the two of them. “I would like Abdo to travel with me. He can see the mind-fire of the other half-dragons, which would be immensely helpful in locating them.” Glisselda looked up at me; she was half a head shorter. “We’re already sending Dame Okra so you can use her Ninysh house as a base of operations. She can’t help?” Before I could answer, she gestured at Abdo and Lars, adding, “I’d feel better with these two here, in our arsenal.”

“My Loyalists won’t let the war come to Goredd,” interjected Comonot. “Don’t discount us.”

Glisselda’s face turned livid. “Ardmagar,” she said, “forgive me, but I have lost some faith in you.”

She turned on her heel and stalked back into the palace. Comonot watched her, his face inscrutable, his thick fingers absently toying with the gold medallions around his neck.

I shot a glance back at Abdo and Lars, still holding hands and laughing at discomfited doves. They wouldn’t miss us. I took the Ardmagar’s arm; he flinched, but didn’t pull away. We walked into the palace together.

At midwinter, Ardmagar Comonot had named me his teacher, a title of tremendous honor among dragons. It meant he ceded me some authority over him—specifically, the understanding of humans. If I told him he was doing something wrong, he was supposed to take me seriously. He’d consulted me a few times during this long winter, but he sometimes couldn’t see when he needed help. Sometimes I had to notice for him.

I didn’t mind; I’d been an intermediary for my uncle Orma many times, and this duty reminded me of him.

Comonot must have had some idea of what I wanted to talk to him about, for he came quietly up the corridor, our footsteps echoing on the marble floor. I led him to the south solar, where I gave the Queen her harpsichord lessons. No one used the room for anything else, and the walk gave me time to overthink what I should say. I sat on a settee upholstered in green satin; Comonot planted himself before the windows, looking out.

He spoke first: “Yes, the Queen is more annoyed with me than usual.”

I said, “Losing faith is well beyond annoyance. Do you know why?”

The old saar clasped his hands behind his back and wriggled his ringed fingers restlessly. “I sent Eskar and her mad scheme back to Porphyry,” he said.