Light Dragons 02 - The Unbearable Lightness of Dragons
next to him, her hands gesturing wildly as she spoke. Take a leaf from Baltic’s book , I thought to myself with a little smile. I straightened my shoulders and adopted a cold, imperious tone. “That is not acceptable.”
“I’m sorry, but—”
“No.” I cut off her excuses with determination. “Your little side projects do not interest me, Maura Lo.”
I heard a small gasp as I invoked her full name, embellishing it with a little flash of arcane magic that must have been tangible even given the distance.
“I have hired you to do a job, and if you refuse to do it, you will leave me with no other alternative but to notify the Akashic League of your denial. I’m sure they will have a thing or two to say to a Summoner who refuses to honor her contract with them. I haven’t had many dealings with them, but I remember someone telling me that the Akashic League takes its contracts with members very seriously, and the penalty for breaching them is very inventive . . . and quite irreversible.”
“I . . . that’s . . . you . . .” Anger was evident in her voice, but she bit it back. “If you can hold for a minute, I’ll speak with my colleagues and see if we can’t work something out.”
“Of course,” I agreed, absently plucking a weed from the lemon balm and noting that the dill needed to be cut back. More murmuring was audible in the background, a full three minutes’ worth before Maura spoke to me. “Ysolde? I’m happy to say that my colleagues understand the importance of attending to League business over our own projects, so I will be available to summon the spirit of Constantine Norka for you after all. I will need a few particulars first, however. First and most important, where did Norka die?”
“You don’t know?” I asked, somewhat surprised, since she recognized his name . . . and mine.
“No. Should I?”
“I suppose not. I just assumed that all dragons knew where Constantine died.”
“Ah. I see someone told you about my father.” The faint thread of humor in her voice had more than a hint of irony to it. “I’m afraid that I don’t have much to do with the weyr.”
“Isn’t your father a red dragon?”
“He was, yes,” she said cautiously. “He was thrown out of the sept when he displeased the wyvern. That was before she killed him, naturally.”
“I’m sorry, I had no idea Chuan Ren would do that to her own people. Well, my memory is a bit faulty, but based on my discussions with the First Dragon, I believe Constantine died in Latvia. Outside of Riga, in fact.”
“Riga? Do you mean Dauva? Of course you do; what am I saying? You were Baltic’s mate, weren’t you?”
“I still am.”
The silence that met that statement was profound. “I see,” she said slowly. “I think the best thing is to meet you at Dauva. We can search for the spirit there. Would it be possible to meet you in . . .” The muffled voices indicated a short conversation. “How about we meet in two days in that little suburb of Riga. What’s the name . . . Ziema?”
“Ziema will be fine. I’ll let you know if I’m unable to make it.”
She murmured something polite, and gave me information about a hotel she said was on the fringe of the town, near the forest that had consumed Dauva’s crumbled remains.
I hung up a few minutes later, staring blindly at the herb section of the kitchen garden, not really seeing anything but my own murky suspicions.
“Is something wrong?”
I gave a mental shake and glanced at Pavel. “Sorry?”
“I asked if something was wrong. You have the oddest look on your face.”
“Ah.” I thought for a moment more, then asked him, “If you were the person who captured and imprisoned Kostya in his own house, why would you be interested in me?”
He didn’t even blink at the bizarre question. “The common link between the two of you is Baltic, so I assume that would be my focus.”
“Yes,” I said slowly, turning my gaze back to the herbs. “That’s what I thought, too.”
“Who is interested in you, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“A half-dragon Summoner who may or may not be the leader of a notorious band of ouroboros dragons. I’m going to meet her in Riga in a couple of days. I don’t think I’ll tell Baltic, just in case.”
He pursed his lips. “In case he would refuse to let you go?”
“No.” I snapped the stalk of an amaryllis that grew in a pot next to the kitchen door, flinging away the leafy stem. “In case she
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