Rook

years.”
    “I suppose the civil service is always the civil service,” said Gubbins breezily.
    “Well, thanks to Noel whatever’s research, this dragon egg was brought to our attention. Now, these things take centuries to hatch, but this kid, with freakish attention to detail, calculated the exact date of the hatching.”
    “The exact date?” asked Gubbins skeptically.
    “Don’t look at me,” I said. “I’m no dragon expert, but it seems they’re fairly punctual about this sort of thing. Our little prodigy did some math, got a long-suffering tutor at the Estate to drive him out there, and his powers told him that the dragon in the egg was alive and would be hatching this evening. You and I are going to make sure everything is ready. Which is why we are going up so early.”
    “And this all happened in the past few days?”
    “No, this happened about six months ago,” I said wearily. “But I had to authorize the ground scans and excavations.”
    “Excavations?”
    “Dragons bury their eggs pretty deep,” I said. “So we have been conducting a discreet archaeological dig.”
    “And now we are going to witness the hatching of a dragon egg?”
    “Uh-huh. But not just the hatching. This kid…” I shuffled through my papers. “His name is Noel Bittner. And he maintains that he will be able to establish some sort of psychic rapport with the dragon when it hatches. He says he’s already touched minds with it and that they will bond when it emerges.”
    “Fascinating,” said Gubbins.
    “Yeah,” I said unenthusiastically. “So naturally we have to have half the Court there to witness the occasion. A Rook, a Chev, a Bishop, and the Lord. In addition to all the support staff, and Bittner.”
    “So, where are the Bishop and the Lord?” he asked pointedly.
    “Bishop Alrich will arrive after sundown with Sir Henry,” I said bitterly. “They’re flying up.” He nodded glumly, and we both settled down with our laptops and the many, many papers that are necessary if you are going to run any government department.
    By the time we arrived at the site, I was starving and Gubbins was suffering from a bad case of cabin fever. You would think that a man so flexible would do all right in a small, enclosed space. After all, I know for a fact that he can fit himself into a suitcase and remain there for seven hours. I’ve seen him do it. But within the relatively spacious confines of a Rolls-Royce limousine, he managed to drive both himself and me to the brink of insanity.
    Only scrupulous good manners (which we had both acquired at gunpoint at the Estate) and the fact that he was my favorite member of the Court prevented us from coming to sharp words. As it was, we both bounded out of the car into the snow with an enthusiasm that surprised the Pawn waiting for us. Gubbins’s bodyguard emerged somewhat more slowly but with even wilder eyes. Anthony, who had been up front with the driver, seemed positively languid by comparison.
    “Rook Thomas, Chevalier Gubbins, welcome to the Hatchery,” the Pawn said wearily.
    “Thank you, Pawn Cahill,” I said, looking up at her. She was tall, and dressed in the kind of casual clothes that will let you kill someone easily and won’t draw attention from passersby. Khakis are good for this sort of thing. “Gubbins, this is Pawn Breeshey Cahill. She’s been overseeing this project since it was brought to our attention by Bittner.” She flinched at the mention of his name. From what I’d heard, Bittner had taken his discoveries to mean that he was head of the entire show. For Pawn Cahill, who had been obliged to simultaneously stroke his ego and run a thirty-man operation, it had been somewhat trying.
    “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Pawn Cahill,” said Gubbins, like the gentleman he was. “I understand you’ve been working under difficult conditions, but I’ve heard nothing but good about the way you’ve handled everything.” She flushed with pleasure. “Thank you for meeting us,” he continued. “I know it’s an early morning.”
    “Coming on the end of an extremely long six months,” she said, smiling at him. I marveled for a moment at how she blossomed under his attention. She hadn’t brushed me off exactly, but her eyes seemed to slide over me to him. I’d been disregarded, and it chafed. It didn’t used to bother me, but since I learned what is going to happen—since I learned about you—I’vebeen observing myself more. People ignore me.