Light Dragons 01 - Love in the Time of Dragons

feel about wasting food.”
    “That’s just ’cause Gareth makes such a big fuss over money,” Brom said, turning to May, who sat at the end of the table with a cup of coffee in front of her. “He’s a tightwad.”
    “Quite possibly the fact that you eat like a horse has influenced his lectures regarding economy,” I said, giving him a meaningful look. I lifted the lid to a silver carafe and peered in. It held coffee.
    “If you prefer tea, we can get you some,” May said, watching me.
    “Actually, I’m really big on chocolate,” I said with an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid the term ‘chocoholic’ applies to me far too well.”
    “I’m sure we can rustle up some hot chocolate,” she said, rising.
    “Don’t go to any bother for me—”
    “It’s no bother. I’ll just go tell Renata.”
    May disappeared, leaving me with Brom. I sat across from him, trying to make a decision.
    “Gabriel says there’s a museum here that has human mummies. Can we go see them?” Brom asked.
    “Possibly. I have to see Dr. Kostich today, though. I was told he’s in town, and I will need to see what work he has for me.”
    Brom’s expression was made strangely horrible by the mouthful of toast and eggs he stuffed in. “Gabriel said Tipene or Maata would take me ’cause you’re going to be busy with dragon stuff.”
    “Dragon stuff?” I frowned, idly rubbing my finger along the beaded edge of the table. “What sort of dragon stuff?”
    Brom thought for a few seconds, his cheeks bulging as he chewed. “It had some foreign word, like sarcophagus.”
    “ Sárkány, ” May said, entering the room with a tall, athletic woman who towered over her. Like Tipene, she appeared to be of Aboriginal descent, with lovely dark skin that gave emphasis to her grey eyes. “This is Maata, by the way. She’s the second of Gabriel’s elite guards.”
    We exchanged greetings. Maata moved to the sideboard, loading up a plate almost as full as Brom’s.
    “Before you ask,” May continued, retaking her seat, “a sárkány is basically a meeting where the wyverns discuss weyr business. Kostya called one for today.”
    “Kostya?” I sat frozen for a second as a face rose in my mind’s eye.
    “Yes.” Both May and Maata watched me. “Do you know him?”
    I blinked away the image, saying slowly, “He was in a dream I had.”
    “Kaawa mentioned you were dreaming of your past. It must be very confusing to you to see yourself but not be able to relate to it.”
    “Yes,” I answered, falling silent as a young woman bustled into the room with a pot of hot chocolate for me. I thanked her, breathing deeply of the lovely chocolatey smell.
    “The sárkány is called for three this afternoon,” May continued, sipping her coffee.
    “I’m sure we can stay out of your way while you have your meeting.”
    “That’s actually not what I meant,” May said with a little smile. “The sárkány has been called so the wyverns can be introduced to you.”
    I sighed. “I’m getting very tired of telling people I’m not a dragon.”
    “I know. But I do think it would be good for you to meet them. If nothing else, they will be able to see for themselves that you’re human.”
    “There is that. . . .” I chewed my lip for a moment. “All right. I will come to your meeting.”
    “Excellent!” May said, looking pleased. “Brom would probably find it pretty dull stuff, so Maata volunteered to take him to the British Museum to see the mummies.”
    I assessed Maata. She looked sturdy enough to take on a semitruck, and since she was one of Gabriel’s elite guard, I assumed she was beyond trustworthy. “That’s very kind of you, but I wouldn’t want to impose,” I told her.
    She waved away the objection with a fork loaded with herbed eggs. “It’s no imposition at all. I happen to like mummies, and am very interested in Brom’s experiments with mummifying animals. Before I knew I was to be part of Gabriel’s guard, I thought I might be a veterinarian.”
    “That’s what Sullivan wants me to do,” Brom said around another mouthful of food.
    I frowned at him, and he made a huge effort to swallow.
    “You are not a python,” I told him. “Chew before you swallow.”
    “This is none of my business, but why do you call your mother Sullivan?” May asked.
    Brom shrugged. “It’s what Gareth calls her.”
    May’s gaze transferred to me. “Your husband calls you by your last name?”
    “Gareth is a little bit . . .