Throne of Dragons. Морган Райс
of the city. The House of Merchants squatted at their heart of the city’s markets, while the House of Sighs was quiet during the day, the last of the patrons from the night before already gone. The smell of the city was a mixture of smoke and sweat, the press of people impossible to ignore.
Devin looked past all of that, toward the solid, gray-walled block of the castle. Rodry would be there, and the prince might help him. Master Grey might be there, and this time Devin might be able to get answers from him. Were Princess Lenore not off on her wedding harvest, there might have been a chance to catch a glimpse of her, and the thought of that made Devin’s heart ache even though he knew he should ignore that feeling.
He set off for the castle, his slender form weaving through the crowds on the streets. Being taller than most people, he could pick his route easily enough, steering clear of the stalls that lined the side of the thoroughfares, where the press was thickest, and looking on toward the network of streams that crisscrossed the city. Devin brushed dark hair out of his eyes, wondering if the streams would be low enough at this hour to wade. He thought better of it; even if the fine clothes he’d borrowed from Sir Halfin now had mud on them from the forest, it seemed better not to encrust them with more. At least, not if he wanted to get into the castle.
Devin took the bridges instead, hurrying over one stone and wood span after another, rising up toward the castle. On another bridge, he saw a small troop of horsemen charging their way through the city, clearly in a hurry. Devin thought he caught a glimpse of Rodry at their head, but they were too far away for him to call to.
Instead, he kept going for the castle, making his way up through the wealthier districts of the city. He was used to guards giving him glances as he passed, but now it seemed that they were distracted by something. That was enough to make Devin move faster, since it seemed obvious that whatever had happened, the castle was the best chance for him to find answers.
He reached the gates of the castle and stopped in shock, because of the figure standing there. Master Grey stood in robes of white and gold, worked with mystic sigils and runes that caught the light as he moved to stare straight at Devin. He pushed back his hood, revealing his shaven head and piercing eyes.
“What’s happening?” Devin asked. “Why are people rushing around here?”
“That is not what you came here to ask about,” Master Grey said, in a tone that suggested he knew exactly what Devin had seen.
“No,” Devin admitted. “I… I was following you, and then I saw… there was a dragon…”
“You want answers,” Master Grey said. “You want to know about magic.”
Devin nodded.
“How badly?” the sorcerer asked. “Do you really want to know about something that might consume you utterly?”
Devin paused. A day or two ago, and he might have walked away at that thought. Now though… now he had nothing left to lose. No home, no family…
“I want to know,” he said.
“Come with me,” Master Grey said, turning and walking as if it were settled that Devin would follow. For once, he didn’t seem to be disappearing out of view, and Devin was so grateful for the chance to actually keep up with him that he hurried to do so, falling into step with the sorcerer as Master Grey led the way into the castle. Crowds of servants parted, moving aside for the magus.
“I… I dreamed strange things,” Devin said as he walked. “I dreamed that I wasn’t who I had always thought I was.”
Master Grey didn’t answer, just kept walking to a set of stairs heading down into the bowels of the castle. There were torches flickering there, casting shadows on stones that seemed older than the rest of the castle, smooth edged, with a hint of the mortar that held them crumbling through time.
“We’re heading down,” Devin said. “Where are we going?”
Again, he got no answer from the magus. Devin could feel frustration building within him. He stepped in front of Master Grey, determined to get some kind of reaction from him. The sorcerer stopped, looking at him until the uncomfortable weight of his gaze made Devin step aside.
“I just want some answers!” Devin insisted.
“Answers are often valuable,” Master Grey said. “But they are rarely just given to us.”
“I just want to make sense of the things that I saw,” Devin said. “I know I was born on the dragon moon. I know my parents aren’t my parents.”
“Dangerous things to say,” Master Grey said. “Maybe even dangerous things to know.”
“And you’re not going to explain any of it,” Devin guessed. “Why did you even meet me at the gate if you’re not going to explain things?”
“Because you have a task to perform,” Master Grey said. “One that may prove important in the days to come.”
“What task?” Devin said.
They reached a door of dark oak, bound with iron, and Master Grey pushed it open, revealing a cavernous space with a vaulted roof, a window above letting in a shaft of light that spread into a bright circle on a floor of black and white tiles. The room had been equipped with a forge, a smelter, an anvil, and what seemed to Devin like every tool anyone could ever need to work with metal, arranged on racks of blackened iron.
That part was strange enough, but there were symbols worked into every surface, symbols that reminded Devin of those on Master Grey’s robes.
“You’ve put magic into all this?” he asked.
To his surprise, Master Grey shook his head. “This is not to bring magic into this, but to contain it when you use it.”
“And how do I do that?” Devin said.
Even Master Grey’s smile was enigmatic, impossible to decipher fully. “You already know what summoning magic feels like. You just need to guide it into the metal as you work.”
“And how do I do that?” Devin repeated.
“You will learn,” Master Grey assured him. He gestured to the forge. “You will need to, because star metal will not respond just to heat or the hammer.”
Devin looked over to where the star metal ore sat waiting by the smelter. He walked over to it, touching it, feeling the sensation of something running from him to it; something he couldn’t place, still didn’t fully understand.
“It responds to you,” Master Grey said. He moved to stand by the wall. “Now you need to control that response. Magic is dangerous. My spells will contain it, but were you to get this badly wrong… the metal might consume you.”
“Consume me?” Devin repeated. Iron and steel felt a long way away, suddenly.
“The metal soaks in magic. It needs it to shape it, but pour too much in, and you might lose yourself,” Master Grey said. “Find your magic, boy. Channel it; use it to shape the metal as you work it. Start the smelter.”
Devin wanted to argue, but this was the task that had been set for him. He needed to do this if he was going to earn his place within the castle. He needed to hand the sword to the king… or to Rodry. Either way, he would need to craft it first.
He built up the fire for the smelter, wood first, then charcoal, pumping the bellows, building the heat. He watched the flames, waiting for them to be the correct color to tell him that they were hot enough.
“More than heat, boy,” Master Grey reminded him.
Devin reached inside himself, trying to find the power that had come out so readily in the valley. It had responded to the metal, so Devin touched a piece of the ore, concentrating on that feeling. He could feel it, he could feel it. He tried to push that feeling into the smelter, into the flames…
He barely threw himself flat in time as flames leapt from it, scorching past him in a way that brought back the vision he’d had of the dragon. Even as he struck the flagstones of the floor, Devin saw the protections Master Grey had