Cascade Point

The dragon vanished, and Royd drew a shuddering breath. For an instant a wave of nausea swept over him, both from the effort of controlling Three and from the destruction he had so easily unleashed. But there was no time to lose. Either Marwitz was up to something especially devious or deadly—"tonight of all nights," he had said—or, more unlikely, this was a test Grail had cooked up for him. In either case, however, his course was clear: he had to get out, and fast. And if Marwitz had really left the south service road clear... then it was time to strike.

Stuffing Waverly's pistol into his belt, Royd left the room, locking the door behind him. —

He found Phelan Hapspur in one of the Rosette Freedom Party's secret meeting places, and the two men greeted each other like long-lost cousins.

"Damn, but I thought we'd never see you again," Phelan gri

"Never mind that now," Royd said. "I can get us into the palace if you can be ready in half an hour or so."

"What?" Phelan stared wide-eyed at Royd; for the first time he seemed to notice the latter's clothing and physical condition. He drew back slightly, his eyes narrowing. "Just where were you being held, Varian?"

"That's not important—"

"Yes, it is. You haven't been tortured; you haven't even gone hungry. What do you think that looks like to us?"

Royd was suddenly aware that there was a ring of people around them. Many were armed and dressed in black nightsuits; not all looked friendly.

"Look," he said, keeping his voice calm, "I can get you inside the palace— inside, not out in the grounds where they can pick us off one by one. You going to pass up a chance like this?"

"How you go

"Director Marwitz was going to take me out for some unauthorized torture. He cleared all but one guard off the south service gate to avoid having u

There was a moment of silence. "All right," Phelan said slowly. "There's a lot here you're not telling us. But you're right; this is worth taking a chance on. But if you're lying—if it's a trap—you'll be the first to die."

"Understood. Now, we have to work fast. Give me some paper and I'll sketch our route. Oh, and there are some people we absolutely have to hit..."

—

Far away the sounds of sporadic gunfire could be heard as Royd sprinted down the deserted hallway toward Dragonmaster Grail's office suite. He'd left Phelan's squad minutes earlier to find Marwitz, to make sure the Director didn't escape. But Phelan had moved faster than Royd had expected, and the group had already entered Grail's office. He'd heard firing from that direction as he came up the stairs, but now there was only an ominous silence.

Ru

The tableau before him was a potent mix of surrealism and deja vu, and for an instant Royd flashed back to his own invasion of this sanctum a short eternity ago. In the dim light and harsh shadows thrown by Grail's desk lamp, Phelan and his five men stood or crouched motionlessly, their automatic rifles half-lowered in a gesture of uselessness.

Facing them across the room, Grail stood by his desk, the black figure of Three between him and the rifles. Grail had been speaking; he broke off as Royd entered.

"So this is your doing, is it?" he said. "I should have known. You deserved death for trying to kill me, but instead I treated you humanely—and this is the thanks I get."

The words of the Dragonmaster were bitter, but, strangely, the tone was not. Royd frowned, searching Grail's face for clues to his feelings.

"Varian, did you get Marwitz?" Phelan asked, his eyes still on Grail.

"No. Someone beat me to him."

"Damn! According to Grail here most of the soldiers we've been killing were Marwitz's men, in the middle of their own coup attempt. But maybe it's not too late to join forces. Whip over to the communications section—north side, third floor— and tell McDodd to call for a parley."

"Join forces with Marwitz's butchers? Are you crazy? They'd stab us in the back first chance they got."

"I didn't ask your opinion," Phelan snapped. "Get moving. We can use their help."

Grail laughed, a short bark that sounded almost like a cough. "Such shortsighted naivete—and you really believe you can govern Rosette? You're a fool."

"The people will govern Rosette," Phelan corrected.

"The people aren't ready," Grail said flatly. "Democracy isn't something you learn overnight. And even if it were, even if you had every man in Rosette behind you, you couldn't keep the Easterlings from immediately pulling the whole thing out from under you. Only the dragons—and their master—have enough power to protect Rosette. Or haven't you been listening?"

"Damn you!" Phelan's temper was very near the breaking point. "Your damn dragons and your damn dragon pax don't mean a single thing to me. You're no different from anyone else, and if you can control those animals, then so can I."

"As I said, a fool." Grail's voice fairly dripped with contempt. Reaching up, he pulled the amulet from around his neck and tossed it to Phelan, who automatically reached out and caught it. "There—that's the key to controlling my dragons. Go ahead. See what good it does you."

Phelan stared at Grail, opened his mouth and closed it again, and then peered down at the amulet in his hand. For a minute he squinted hard at it. Finally, he looked up.

"You see?" Grail said. "You have no more chance of controlling my pets than you have of swimming around Troas. Any of the rest of you want to try it? Go ahead, try it. The sooner you're convinced Rosette's survival depends on me, the sooner you'll surrender and we can put an end to this nonsense."

"Don't listen to him," Phelan said grimly. "He's bluffing."

"Yeah, maybe," someone muttered. "But what if he's not?"

"Shut up!"

"And you would have controlled my dragons," Grail scoffed. "You can't even control your own men. Look, even Varian ignores you."

Phelan glanced over in surprise. "Varian? I gave you an order, damn it. Get moving."

"No." Royd took a deep breath. "I can command the dragon."

All eyes turned to him. "What?" Phelan asked.

"You heard me." Royd's eyes were locked onto Grail's. "I learned while I was a prisoner here. The... dragons... took a liking to me. All of them will obey me."

Grail's face was unreadable. "Prove it," he said flatly.

Royd nodded slowly. He began to concentrate... and he had contact. But there was something else there, a presence he'd not felt the last time: Grail's own control, undoubtedly. He set his teeth—and suddenly, with absurd ease, the presence fell away. The dragon was his.

Royd held out his hand and tried an order. Without hesitation, Three walked forward.

There was a gasp from Phelan's group. Royd glanced at them. They still held their guns, but, curiously, seemed to have forgotten them. It was up to Royd then; and the long-forgotten debt was finally going to be paid. He turned his attention back to the dictator and ordered Three to turn and prepare to jump... And hesitated.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't kill Grail.

The realization was a shock that even the incident at Louys Pass hadn't prepared him for, and it hit him like a hot needle in the gut. It wasn't just that he couldn't kill Grail dishonorably—he simply couldn't kill the dictator at all. The old reasons for his hatred still existed; but in the past few weeks he'd found the reasons were not always justified.