Light Dragons 02 - The Unbearable Lightness of Dragons

without violence?”
    “That did not work, which you know since you insisted on holding talks with Drake Vireo regarding the subject.”
    I paid little heed to the acid in his voice. “It’s worth trying to reason with Drake and the others again. After all, Gabriel did make an effort to be civil by inviting Brom to stay. Perhaps the wyverns are trying to offer an olive branch.”
    “I doubt it.” The look he gave me said much. “I know you do not wish for this war, but it is not of our making. We have taken no actions against any member of the weyr.”
    “Nor have they done so against us. Well, except for Kostya breaking your nose again last week, but that had more to do with the fact that you called him a ‘house-stealing, backstabbing, traitorous whoreson pain in the ass’ than with the war against us.”
    Baltic rubbed his nose. “The fact remains that it is for them to call off the war and make the first move.”
    I was silent, but my heart wept for the state of things between us and the weyr.
    Baltic, ever sensitive to my moods, put his hand on my leg and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “If I were to tell you that we will kill as few dragons as is necessary to free Thala, would that make you happy again?”
    “Oh, I know full well that despite your reputation as an unbridled maniac, you’re not a fan of killing just for the heck of it, but that isn’t my point. I don’t want anyone else to die, Baltic. That includes whatever guards Drake has put into place around your friend.”
    “What would you have me do?” he asked, clearly exasperated.
    “Well . . .” A thought occurred to me, one that would ease my conscience at the idea of sneaking around behind Baltic’s back and yet might well serve to achieve a much-desired end. “If you aren’t willing to talk with Drake and the other wyverns again about them releasing Thala, then perhaps I can. Or rather, perhaps I can talk to May and Aisling. And Cyrene, of course, although . . . did it seem to you that something was a little off in Kostya and Cyrene’s relationship when we ran into them last week?”
    “Something is most definitely off with Kostya,” he growled.
    I patted his knee. “Personal judgments aside, I got a feeling that we had interrupted an argument. I wonder . . . no, that doesn’t really matter. What was I saying? Oh, if I talk to Aisling and May about Thala, I’m sure I could get them to see reason. They don’t want a war any more than we do—wars are dangerous things, and they don’t want their respective loved ones in any danger. I’m willing to bet you that they can go a lot further in convincing their wyverns to release Thala than you can. After all, it was you the weyr was after, and now they’ve met you and seen you’re not the madman they thought you were, so they really have no reason to hold Thala prisoner.”
    “I will not have you put in any danger,” he said stiffly.
    “May and Aisling?” I asked, not bothering to finish the question.
    He harrumphed. “I concede that neither of the mates is likely to harm you, but I do not trust the wyverns.”
    “You trust Gabriel with Brom,” I pointed out.
    “That is because no wyvern would attack a child. My son will be safe with the silver wyvern. My mate is a different matter.”
    “I’m not proposing to stay with Gabriel, just have a little talk with May and Aisling. And I think I’ll call them when we get home and set up a lunch tomorrow to meet with them.” I tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, but I’m no actress. My voice sounded stilted and filled with the knowledge that we’d already set the meeting time. Luckily, Baltic was still considering the subject of his second guard, Thala.
    “I do not like it, but if you insist on trying, I will not prevent you,” was all he said before he and Pavel turned the discussion to the best ways to infiltrate the house where Thala was being kept.
    It wasn’t until that night that I had time alone with him.
    “Where’s Pavel?” I asked as I set a deliciously scented beef bourguignon down in front of him.
    “He will not be here for supper. He has gone to see a friend,” Baltic answered, holding out a chair for me.
    I started to sit, but looked up quickly. “A friend? A romantic friend, you mean? A guy romantic friend?”
    Baltic frowned at me as he took his seat. “No, female. I told you he did not have a preference as to gender.”
    “Oh, a girlfriend. Drat. And you can stop giving me that look.