Kshûn-llyddyr Tsair’tsvasheg   He was czarraj of the Upper Reaches, and it pleased him well. Kshûn-llyddyr Tsair’tsvasheg paced the scorched crag restlessly, his glass-sharp black eyes narrowed. Staring down, into the wind, the czarraj glared at the Lowlands. Lush treetops screened any inhabitants of the Lowlands from his view, but Kshûn could see that his domain did not encompass all he surveyed. To the west, if he squinted, he could see the shape of an atmonsula. It was set much lower than the aensulae he governed, down in the mist and clouds. The sight of it made a great black rage in his chest. “Ash’ik, K’ney, come,” he growled, low in his throat. “R’dar, ride Ash’ik—no, K’ney. You’re on K’ney. Is’ris, you’re on Ash’ik.” The oldest thrall, R’dar, snarled and fought, his mind slippery in Kshûn’s mental grip. Claws of memories, desperate, shoved deeper into the ch’meira’s mindhold. The human had been a thrall for over ten years, and he fought with experience. Powerful as he was, the massive scarlet-and-gold ch’meira bent his head under the assault, flinching at the pain pounding through his temples. Humans are always tricky. If this idiot would just stop fighting me… “R’dar,” Kshûn said, in a voice like smoke and honey. “Relax. It’s just everyday work. No one can work like you, R’dar. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” As the white showed around the man’s eyes, the ch’meira crooned again, something the human would never have expected. “Meryndar.” The thrall known as R’dar shook all over, his face strained, and did not resist. Memory had a stronger hold on him than even Kshûn. It took a savage mental snap to bring him back to himself. “Yes, Lord,” he mumbled, and he threw a leg over a bluish creature that looked vaguely gryphonic although she had no feathers--the fei’ikshy K’ney. She did not resist. Is’ris, a tall, elflike creature whose scales shone scarlet, was already astride the other fei’ikshy, gray-mottled Ash’ik. “Come,” Kshûn said again, spreading his fiery wings. “We must talk to Raj Ashvâka and her brother.” Raj Ys-chtheft Anai’ashvâka was as exotically lovely as Kshûn remembered. She burned black and white, her lithe form sheathed in veils of light and shadow. Ashvâka was also as laser-focused as she had been the last time he saw her. “Other worlds, Czarraj Tsvasheg,” she said coolly, when he had settled himself into an earthy hollow. The ground smoked and charred under the heat of him. “There are a million worlds out there, worlds that have never known ch’meiri. Worlds that we could govern. Why should we accept the pitiful upper portion of Auroch, our baked and desolate aensulae, when we could each be the warden of an entire planet? Using thralls like the fei’ikshae, or even keilpeyi, we could control far more people. They bond, and their bonds would be subservient to us. Nothing would be secret.” Her eyes glittered, points of blue infinity in her eerily monochrome face. “What we need, Czarraj, are more ch’meiri who are willing to Enthrall something...unusual.” She watched his very neutral expression carefully. “Keilpeyi are too hard to get, and the fei’ikshae are traitorous to their cores, as you know. Even if you trust them, others will not. There are other creatures, called dragons, who live offworld. They bond as the fei’ikshae do with their Singers, but for them, it is deeper. It is for life. They seldom survive their bonds’ death. The are winged, and can tolerate water. Many of them can breathe fire. They have no scales or feathers; they are tidy creatures. Father, can you see the worth in these creatures?” “Dragons,” Kshûn murmured thoughtfully. “So you wish me to Enthrall one?” “One?” said Ashvâka. Her eyes were very bright. “Why stop at one?” Kshûn came away from the meeting with the feeling that it was Ashvâka who was the czarraj, and he who was the underling. She had manipulated him like a clockwork piece…but he was still intent on doing what she wanted! She is a talented piece of work, my daughter, he told himself in the depths of his mind. There was a bloom of atypical pride. Any ch’meira would be proud to have sired such a devious plotter. “K’ney and Ash’ik,” he said softly. “Are either of you what is known as a Bard?” From K’ney, the young female, he felt a sudden tidal wave of panic. Ash’ik felt…nothing. “K’ney,” he said again, eyes slitting. “Bard Rrkamney, I require a service of you.” “What do you require, Master?” Kshûn had her sharp, raptoral eyes glazing by now. He knew that thrall-mortals found his gaze hypnotic; counted on it, in fact. It was easier on their sharp little minds to be entranced than it was to fight against unrelenting mental commands. The czarraj valued these thralls. He knew their weaknesses, and their strengths. He would hate to start again… “I require that you gate me away from Auroch,” he told her. “Somewhere with dragons.” She dropped her gaze. “Aye, m’lord.” They came to earth again on an island world, something that made Kshûn shudder when he thought of it. None of the natives seemed particularly keen on meeting him, either. There were humans, and feathery things that backed hastily away from him, and big creatures that fit Ashvâka’s description of these dragons. He also thought he saw something huge in the water…but the czarraj looked away hastily. He was not a gawker—and he did not wish to see some water-horror. Water by itself was horror enough. But after several hours, he found himself flying over a desert. This was a bit better. Kshûn touched down on the dry ground with a cackling purr, looking around at the countryside. This was almost like an atmonsula back home. This, he felt, would be a good place to pick up his first dragon. “It is called Serpent’s Reach Isle, m’lord,” said R’dar dully. “This is Serpent’s Reach Caer. They say they have a place for you.” Kshûn bared his molten-metal fangs in fierce pleasure. Yes, this would do nicely. And he’d come home with more than his daughter had ever dreamed… The mighty Loindoss. Story to come!