CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 8
Dynarys blinked several times as his eyes adjusted to the morning sun gleaming down on the main courtyard. The space was transformed for this day into a bustling market with colorful stalls and the press of thousands of bodies into a tight space. He disliked it now about as much as he always had. There was no room in such a space to defend oneself, should the need arise. He would rather take a position near the edge of the crowd, against a wall, and watch the spectacle from there. However, Tharissa led Gayriel without hesitation into the throng of shoppers and booths.
The sway of the woman's hips was enticing, even covered in his rolled down pants.
He snorted, wondering what she would do if she knew that wearing his clothes in public marked her as his far more than any dress she might have worn. Perhaps then she would have capitulated to reason. But there was a small part of him that received a level of satisfaction when male eyes found her and then swung toward him, linking them together. It might just prevent any exuberant pursuit toward her, too, and save him a great deal of potential trouble.
“An interesting catch,” Morkuth commented. The man strode beside him, apparently unaffected by the increased population. He moved with ease and grace. The crowd naturally parted for the Dragon Lords, but there was an extra reverence given to Morkuth, something in his manner and confidence that drove the weak fleeing before him and adoring glances from the rest.
Adoring glances like the one Gayriel had worn. Dynarys worked to tamp down the irritation that spiked once more. Did the man have to answer the door naked? She had stared at him like a decadent buffet awaiting her tastes, and it made him want to hit something. Hard. Preferably Morkuth, but that would be a poor repayment for the loyalty the man had shown to him. A loyalty that had also been shown to his father, though heavens knew the man had done little to deserve it.
“She might be,” he admitted. All fire and vitality and thirst for life, no doubt she would make a fascinating mate, but she had a more important task, one that he would see fulfilled.
“What news from the ranks?” he changed the subject.
Morkuth surveyed him from the side of his eyes, a question of propriety maybe, or appropriateness of the location for this discussion. Dynarys held his gaze, crowded market or not he preferred to know what he dealt with on this delegation.
“Nothing has been mentioned, are you concerned...General?”
Dynarys clasped the hilt of his favorite blade, a wickedly sharp creation passed down along his line since history remembered. A sign of his family's honor. A sign that he belonged here.
“Kurath was in the aerie last night.”
“And you think that one of your men let him in? That's a wild accusation, even for you, Firestriker.”
“Some are displeased with my advancement. It would be a convenient way to be rid of a leader that they do not have a taste for.”
“Yet one of your men would know better, know that it would take far more than a jealous Shifter to take you down. And they would risk exposing themselves. The real question is what was it that Kurath wanted? He isn't such a big fool as to think he could best you within the aerie.”
Dynarys grunted. He had no answer for that, and Morkuth made far too much sense. He would have rather it be one of the men now under his command; at least that was predictable. If it was not, then who did seek to press battle upon him...and why? He hated to admit it, but there were a fair few options.
“I was unable to determine what Kurath sought.” Because he had been busy chasing down Gayriel. Putting a woman before duty. Just like my father.
“That's a shame. I wouldn't mind having a reason to fry that Shifter...no offense.”
Dynarys raised a hand, accepting the apology. “There is no love between us.”
Morkuth studied him once more. “I will keep my eyes and ears open, Dynarys. Whoever seeks this traitorous path will be exposed as the coward he is.”

The market was a packed collection of brightly colored tables and booths. They sprawled across the main courtyard, the same one Gayriel had exited the carriage in. No less than fourteen guards stood at the gate, watching travelers coming in and out of the aerie with goods and belongings. A harried looking youth stood with them, directing sellers to their places with a chart he clutched tightly in his hands.
She felt a tug of sympathy for the boy; it didn’t look as if he chose the task for himself and he appeared miserable.
Guards lined the courtyard, as well, concentrated at each of the exits that led farther into the aerie. These were not smiling, lazy warriors; intimidating and terrifying were the words that came to her mind.
So many people crowded into the space that it felt rather like the city, albeit cleaner than the areas she was used to. She found her emotions tugged back in time, as she struggled to mesh the scene and events.
“Let’s start there, for everyday items. Then we will work our way back for intimates and ceremony dresses,” Tharissa pointed to a blue painted stall with merry yellow trim. The seller was an ancient woman, shriveled and hunched with curly wires of gray hair sticking out about her head. And she was close enough that they wouldn’t need to press through much of the crowd to get there.
“Are these people,” Gayriel indicated the men, women, and children packing the spaces between stalls, “all from the aerie?”
Tharissa chuckled, as she stepped into the flow of bodies. Gayriel followed quickly, determined not to get lost or separated. She could feel the presence of Dynarys and Morkuth at their backs, far enough she was certain they were trying to afford the women what privacy they could, but close enough that none could mistake their protection.
“Great Six, no. As you must know, most of these vendors are from your city. The crowds often follow them, eager for a peek at the great Dragon Lords, or the mysterious Shifters. The value of the wares provided doesn’t hurt when it comes to drawing a crowd, either. The aerie is rich in ways that most humans can never hope to be, even the nobles. The vendors are often presenting items that are far beyond reach of those from the city.” She seemed to think for a moment. “If you’ll pardon my saying,” she added.
Gayriel didn’t know such things, but she didn’t say so.
“Lady Gayriel, I have to ask you to excuse me. I had no idea you were a delegate when I asked for you to join me yesterday. I’m afraid I caused you many problems you might not have had otherwise.” Tharissa frowned and toyed with a band of silver that spiraled along her forearm. “I also said things that...,” she cringed, “I probably shouldn’t have.”
Gayriel smiled, charmed by Tharissa's abrupt honesty and friendly nature. It was a true apology and it touched her, while making her feel a little guilty for her deception.
“I hold no grudge against you,” she told the woman. “I enjoyed your company.”
Tharissa's face lit with a brilliant smile. “Ha! I knew I liked you. Come on, there’s some gorgeous jade lace I just spotted that you need to own.”
Having regained her exuberance, it was impossible not to grow fond of Tharissa. She bubbled with life, her excitement for everything overflowing and contagious. She studied the jade lace, which turned out to be the top piece of a complicated garment.
“Yes, this is perfect,” Tharissa nodded, holding the lace up to Gayriel's chest. “Except I can’t get a good feel for sizing while you’re wearing...er...that.”
Right. Gayriel peeked at Dynarys, who happened to be close enough to overhear the comment. His brow raised in an “I told you so” expression.
“We will just have to trust that it won’t be too small; if it is too large, I can adjust it myself this afternoon.” She turned to the seller. “We will take this green one, and,” she hummed thoughtfully, tapping her bottom lip. “Three of your platinum bangles; make sure to include that one there, with the hint of emerald.”
“Of course, great lady,” the old woman bobbed happily, making quick work of folding the lace top and silken skirts that joined it. She plucked up three bracelets and popped them on top, wrapping them in a round of soft looking cloth and tying a cord about the entire package. Her hands flew so fast Gayriel wondered at her age; she looked to be nearing a century, but her speed and energy said otherwise.
“That will be four platinum quarry,” she wiggled her fingers, indicating the beginning of a good round of bartering.
Gayriel paled.
Four platinum quarry was more money than she had ever seen at once. A street child was unlikely to ever see a single platinum quarry. She remembered the amount Dynarys had paid at the choosing house, but she hadn’t actually seen the money change hands.
A hand reached in front of her, knocking the sellers fingers. She blinked to find Dynarys so close.
“Two platinum quarry, and you will remain at the aerie to see to the lady’s fittings.”
“Bah,” the old woman scoffed, though the corner of her lip quirked upward and her eyes danced. “You will make a beggar out of me. I need at least three platinum quarry to cover the material for that dress. The lace was imported from the far west, you know. You cannot find such delicate strands anywhere else, just you try.”
Tharissa rolled her eyes, grinning. She latched onto Gayriel's arm and pulled her away slightly, scanning the market for her next attack.
As much as Gayriel was enjoying her presence, and the excitement of the crush of people, the cost of the dress drew her back to reality slightly. Enough that she remembered the charade she was playing at, and her mission for freedom. She needed as much information as she could manage or her chances were next to nothing.
“So most of the people here are from the city?” Gayriel looked around at the crowds. “Are there any other women in the aerie?”
“Most definitely,” Tharissa grinned wryly. “It would be a tense place if I was the only woman around. Then Morkuth would never allow me anywhere.”
Gayriel's lip turned up a little but she was still pondering. “You are the only woman I have seen since arriving.”
Tharissa nodded. “The women are regulated to the more protected areas of the aerie, for the most part, that consists of the inner buildings and their courtyards and gardens. Both the Dragon Lords and the Shifters are highly protective of their families, but there are many here today, and you will meet most of the mates at the banquet tonight...It isn’t as lonely as I made it sound yesterday. I just like new people, and that doesn’t happen too often.”
It sounded, for a moment, like Tharissa was trying to sell her on the aerie. It made sense, she supposed that she wanted visitors to like her home. But the calculating look on her face told Gayriel she was plotting in that mind of hers.
“Shifters...those are the men who become wolves?” Gayriel shuddered.
“Men and women,” Tharissa told her, slowing her pace. “And I have heard they can have other forms. I am not certain which, though, and I have never seen it for myself. They are sort of secretive, and protective of their ways.” She stopped at a small booth with a collection of breast bands displayed proudly for all to see. “They are not all like Kurath and his pack,” she muttered, her voice hardly loud enough to be heard, “but you cannot deem them friendly, either. Tread carefully with them Lady Gayriel,” she warned.
That was all good and fine, but... “Then why share the aerie with them? And how will I know which ones they are?”
“It’s complicated. And probably something we shouldn’t discuss here,” she looked around. “But I will tell you that the Dragon Lords and Shifters depend on one another, though neither relishes that dependence. As to knowing which is which...well, other than their sex, the biggest indicator would be their behavior. As I mentioned, the Shifter’s ways are very different.”
“Their sex?”
“Yes, there are female Shifters, but not Dragon Lords. So if you meet a woman here, she is either a human or Shifter...,” she narrowed her eyes at Gayriel. “Honestly, I am surprised you don’t know this. What is the city doing sending you to represent them without any knowledge at all?”
Gayriel cringed inwardly. On pain of death, she was not to cause this type of suspicion.
“I am replacing another, due to an illness,” she lied, thinking quickly. And then, because she could not help herself, “how is it possible for a race to have no females?”
“The dragon’s mating system is...unique. Something to do with the symbiont, I imagine. Reproduction is rare, and can only occur when both the dragon and the man interact in the mating. Once the dragon chooses his mate and they...consummate, as you put it, he can never have another. And the man would be stupid to attempt to do so since...,” she stopped. “Ah, it is supposed to be vastly more pleasurable with a mate, or so I’ve been told.”
“But that doesn’t explain why there are no women,” Gayriel frowned.
“Oh, sorry. I forgot what your original question was. There are no females because Dragon Lords can only produce male offspring,” Tharissa gazed out at the crowd almost wistfully. She had picked up a breast band and was fingering the material absently. “It is unfair really. They are a dying race, Gayriel.”
She looked at Gayriel, a corner of her lip turning upward. “But perhaps The Six will see to it more of them find mates,” she winked, but then her face grew serious. “I am happy to help you with your questions, if you have them. But if you are going to be associated with Dynarys, I ask you to be careful, especially gathering information about the Shifters. There are those who would see to hurt him with such things.”
Gayriel's brows crashed together. “How so?”
But Tharissa shook her head, unwilling to divulge farther.
“Did she get her four platinum quarry?” She aimed her question behind Gayriel. Gayriel tried not to flinch at the idea that the Dragon Lords had been close enough to hear the conversation. She turned toward them as they sauntered nearer, but the expressions on their faces were serene, if a tad amused.
“Three Platinum and five golden quarry, but a promise to tailor everything we purchase today, if we give her a space to work.”
Tharissa snorted. “She took you. The dress isn’t worth nearly that much.”
“I couldn’t bring it on myself to barter her down much farther. The woman had to be at least eighty, what if I gave her heart failure?” Dynarys muttered, an amused note in his voice.
“Well then, we will have to give her plenty of work so she earns her pay. The lady will need at least three of these,” Tharissa dangled the breast-bands, each a different color, in front of Dynarys, “and I think next we will pick out something special for the banquet.”