Shadow Scale: A Companion to Seraphina(15)

I felt a pang; I had hoped to speak to her about Orma. “It was a bad plan?”

He shifted his stance, folding his arms over his barrel chest. “Forget for the moment that there is an ancient treaty in question and that the Porphyrians are touchy about it. Eskar failed to consider that sneaking up the Omiga Valley would avail us nothing unless the bulk of the Old Ard were fighting elsewhere. Her plan requires a simultaneous feint south by my Loyalists to draw enemy troops away from the Kerama.”

“South, as in all the way to Goredd?” I said.

“Correct. It is damned difficult to coordinate attacks at a distance, even with thniks.” He jingled his medallions for emphasis. They were devices for communicating at a distance, created by the quigutl, a lesser species of dragon. “Goredd might have to hold out for weeks. You saw the damage a single, determined dragon did to this city.”

There was still smoke rising from that quarter of town a week later. But Comonot’s words didn’t add up to Glisselda’s reaction. I said, “If you merely pointed out a flaw in the plan with Goredd’s safety in mind, that shouldn’t have angered the Queen.”

His shoulders sagged; his forehead rested against the glass. “Eskar, arguing with me, brought up some … defeats I had failed to mention to the Queen before now.”

I inhaled sharply through my teeth. “Bad defeats?”

“Is there a good kind? The Old Ard have a new strategist, a General Laedi—some upstart I’ve never heard of—and he cheats most egregiously. He ambushes out of hatcheries, with no qualms about destroying the young. His ards pretend to surrender, then don’t. Even our wins are almost losses; Laedi’s forces keep fighting after they’re beaten, to maximize casualties.” Comonot turned to face me, looking baffled. “What kind of strategy is that?”

I was more perplexed by Comonot’s strategy for dealing with Glisselda. “Why would you keep important information from the Queen?”

“She is bright and capable, but she is also very young. She gets …” He made a swirling gesture, like rising smoke.

“Upset?” I offered.

He nodded vigorously. “She’s in over her head. That’s not criticism; I am, too. But that’s precisely it: I have enough to sort out without her emotions thrown into the mix.”

He began pacing. I said, “You need to regain Glisselda’s trust. May I make some suggestions, Ardmagar?”

He paused expectantly, his black eyes keen as a crow’s.

I said, “Be more transparent, first of all. Maybe she’ll be upset by your losses, but emotions pass. She will be more logical and clearheaded afterward, but she has to feel it first. It’s like the order of operations in an equation.”

Comonot pursed his thick lips. “She can’t skip that step?”

“Just like you can’t stop sleeping, even though it leaves you helpless and vulnerable for hours every day,” I said.

“I’m not sure I accept that analogy,” he said, but I could tell I’d gotten him thinking.

“The second thing you should do, and perhaps the more crucial: make a gesture of goodwill to reignite the Queen’s trust. Preferably a large gesture.”

Comonot’s bushy eyebrows shot up. “An aurochs?”


I gaped at him for a couple of heartbeats before it dawned on me that he meant not merely an enormous cattlebeast but food. He would make it up to Glisselda with feasting. “That’s a possibility,” I said, nodding slowly, my mind racing. “I was thinking something still bigger. Your war policy is outside of my bailiwick, and I’d never presume to advise you, but I think your gesture should be on that scale. You might go to the front for a while, or … or dedicate an ard to the protection of Lavondaville, if you can spare one. Whatever might convince Queen Glisselda that you care for Goredd’s safety.”

He scratched his jowls. “Care is possibly too strong a—”

“Ardmagar!” I cried, annoyed with him now. “Pretend.”

He sighed. “If I left the city, it would reduce the damage done by incompetent assassins. Certainly I wouldn’t mind facing this General Laedi myself and ripping his throat out.” He gazed into the middle distance a moment, then focused on me again. “There is sense in what you say. I will consider what is best.”

That was my dismissal. I rose and gave full courtesy. He watched me solemnly, then took my hand and placed it on the back of his neck. It was a show of submission; a real dragon teacher would have bitten him.



After his practice with Lars, I approached Abdo about accompanying me on my travels. He was enthusiastic, but cautioned, You’ll need to ask my family’s permission. I’m three years away from my Day of Determination. I nodded, trying to affect worldliness, but he spotted my confusion and added, Adulthood. When you decide how people will address you, and you choose your path into the world.

When I’d met Abdo at midwinter, he’d been traveling the south with his dance troupe, which included an aunt and his grandfather. His grandfather, as the senior family member, was the one I needed to ask. Abdo accompanied the old man to my suite the next morning, and I plied them with tea and cheese pastries and an impromptu oud concert. His grandfather, Tython, ate the pastry with one hand, holding Abdo’s hand with the other.