Princess of Beasts - Chapters Seventeen, and Eighteen (Patreon)

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Chapter Seventeen

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Nira made her way through the ship’s lower decks, late the next morning. Her hair was still damp from a morning bath. She wore an indigo jacket captain’s over a dark, silver blouse. The Empire’s Black Star marked the jacket’s shoulders, alongside the golden wing insignias of rank. Silver piping ran down the sides of her ebony breeches. It was rare for her to dress in anything formal, but the recent events called for it, she thought. Her pistols were once again loaded and strapped at her hips. Though she hardly expected trouble immediately, she may as well get used to carrying them at all times again. 

This deep in the ship’s bowels, there was no carpet to muffle the sharp tap of her boot heels against the wooden floor. The sound carried up and down the corridor, echoes on echoes. The deck she traversed now was one of the deepest parts of The Bay, originally meant to house both large, bulky cargo, and providing living space for the ship’s largest residents. All the halls and doorways were designed to be large enough for even dragons to pass through, back when the ship was still expected to house a mobile air force. Nowadays, most of what might have once been sleeping spaces for dragons and gryphons now held only cargo. 

Most, but not all.

Floorboards well-worn by the frequent passing of heavy creatures with large paws lead the way to Malaresh’s so-called lair. The closer to his home Nira drew, the worse condition things were in. Scratches marked the floors wherever he’d let his claws slip free of their sheaths. Deep gouges marred the walls where his heavy tail spines had dug into the wood with every irritable lash. Several arched doorways were so heavily scarred it looked as if the dragon had been using them to sharpen his claws, or mark his local territory. 

At least he hadn’t pissed on whatever he considered his borders, Nira thought. She grimaced, deciding she’d better not give him any ideas. Her thoughts drifted as she walked, leaving Nira contemplating the years in which the dragon called her ship home.

To Nira’s complete lack of surprise, the dragon had claimed not only the largest available space for himself, but those adjoining it. Though his home was also in The Bay, like the gryphons, it was at the opposite end of the ship. At first, Nira thought he’d taken that area just because it was easier for him to stake his claim to the surrounding chambers as well if they were unused. But during his first few years with the ship, it was more clear he wished to sequester himself from the rest of the crew. Early on, the dragon was not at all a social creature. He did not seem comfortable interacting with the others, though Nira could never quite place whether that came from ego and arrogance, or something deeper. 

Malaresh was in bad shape when they’d first rescued him. Not only had he clearly been put through hell, physically, but he was also far underweight for a dragon. She doubted his captors fed him any more than they had to keep him alive. Not that his wounds and malnourishment prevented him from fighting like the hell-sent demon the Union believed him. The moment they’d freed him from his physical bindings, he tore that horrible place asunder. He’d taken plenty more bullets in the process, but none of them even seemed to register. 

Truth was, Nira doubted Malaresh expected to survive. It was clear the dragon had already resigned himself to dying at the cruel, cold hands of the Golden Union. Freeing him in a brazen, unexpected attack had not changed that fact for him, at least not at first. It only meant he got to take revenge in his last moments, got to take as many of his tormentors with him as possible before he finally succumbed. When the Union were all dead, or fleeing, when their outpost was in smoldering ruins, Malaresh seemed genuinely surprised to still be alive. 

Nira never even asked him to join her crew. Not officially, anyway. Instead, in the aftermath of the battle, the dragon simply demanded to speak to the ‘pirate leader’. Nira identified herself, and the dragon informed her that he was joining her crew, and would help her fight the Union until his debt was repaid. Nira doubted she could have dissuaded him even if she tried. Not that she would have, a dragon made a powerful ally. 

He’d claimed his space on the ship, and kept to himself at first. As his wounds healed, and his body recovered, so too did his soul. Or at least, whatever a dragon might consider their soul. Little by little he began to spend more time with the other crew. Amelia was immeasurably helpful in that. Where Nira tried to give the dragon space, Amelia made it a point to engage with Malaresh, whether he liked it or not. She brought him food, she brought him drinks, she showed him around, and she made the same bawdy jokes at his expense she did with everyone else.

Before long, she was inviting him into the Commons Area tavern to come and drink with her and Nira. At first, he seemed a little uncertain about drinking in a tavern, with humans, but he took to it swiftly. Before long, he was in there more nights than not, and the ship was running out of booze. From there, he got to know the gryphons, and more importantly, he got to know Jirril. By the time another year had passed, Jirril spent as many nights in Malaresh’s chambers as his own. 

A few years after his arrival on the ship, he had his chance to repay his debt. Nira and her officers were ambushed, while on leave. They were outnumbered and outgunned, and nearly out of ammo when the dragon arrived. He incinerated their ambushers, obliterated their gunship, and ferried Nira and her friends safely back to the Cataclysm. Thankful as she was, Nira genuinely expected the dragon to leave, after that. 

Not only did he stay, instead, but never once had he made mention of repaying his debt. A more striking silence, Nira could not imagine. There was nothing the dragon did not enjoy bragging about. His exploits as a great warrior, his days as a fearsome marauder, the barony he so often claimed to have ruled, his mating prowess with both males, and females, and on and on. Any little nugget of information he had, he held it over the princess’s head like a noble offering a peasant a golden coin, held just out of reach. He even made Nira work to obtain his thoughts on Alakor the night before. 

But the debt that he’d repaid? Never once had he spoke of it. 

It was almost as though if he ever spoke it aloud, pride would demand he leave the ship. Nira doubted Malaresh could ever bring himself to admit that he’d found a home here, with a band of misfits and rebels and outcasts. Hell, she doubted even ruling the ship would be enough to sate the dragon’s pride, let alone simply being one of their crew members. But if he never spoke it, if it was never acknowledged that he had repaid his life debt to the princess, then he’d never have to leave. 

Yet, Malaresh remained the most dangerous, unpredictable member of the crew. He had done enough to earn her trust, for the most part. But from time to time, she just could not be sure. She knew she could not fully control the dragon. It would be futile to try. And, while she didn’t truly believe he would ever try to seize the ship from her, history was littered with tales of great dragons who grew weary of serving even the highest ranking officials, and sought to take power for themselves. Nira liked to think those were only cautionary tales amongst her people, and yet there were times when Malaresh seemed to be playing a game in which only he knew the rules. 

Nira hoped the dragon knew he had a home here for as long as he wanted it. Hell, Malaresh had more than that. Nira saw her crew as a family, and that included the dragon. Though she had threatened him with exile for breaking her rule and using his flame, Nira doubted she could ever truly cast him out. As far as she was concerned, Malaresh was family too. A frightening, unpredictable black sheep, but family just the same. 

The princess smiled. She hoped Malaresh knew that. 

As she approached his home, Nira pulled herself from her thoughts and paused to look around. Murals of rough-hewn stone and pale green mosses covered the walls. Carefully painted stalagmites across the ceiling looked almost real, from the angles. The floor was painted as well, like the muddy floor of some damp tunnel. Dragon paw prints marked it here and there. Years ago, Malaresh had hired the ship’s best artisans to create the effect of traveling into a great tunnel, leading into a dragon’s cavern lair. 

These days, there was more than just murals. Actual boulders strewn about the corridor leant an air of authenticity. They also leant extra weight to the ship, Nira thought, hoping that somewhere, someone on her crew was actually accounting for such things. For a while, Malaresh had a habit of bringing them back after hunting trips or raids. Nira finally asked him to stop, and to his credit, she did not see any new stones lying about. 

She did, however, see a skeleton. Or at least, part of it. Leg bones, including intact femurs and feet, jutted out from one of the boulders. She pursed her lips, then shook her head, chuckling. At least the dragon had a sense of humor, morbid as it was. Besides, she told herself, it could be worse. At least they weren’t any skulls. 

And then, of course, she saw the skulls. 

There were two of them, each seated atop another boulder. Together they stared at a nearly intact skeleton, leaning upon a wine cask, up against the wall. The skeleton had a bony hand draped across a goblet, its own death grin returned to the skulls. It almost looked as if it was taunting them, lording its wine over them, along the rest of its bones. 

Nira pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing. She had no idea where those came from. At least all the bones seemed long since scoured of any remaining flesh. The air was free from the any hint of rot or decay, as well. She hoped the dragon had merely bought them, already boiled and bleached, from some vendor who dealt in illicit goods and dark rituals. 

Just before the grand entrance to the cargo bay where the dragon slept, two signs were posted. Both were wooden, and painted with bright red lettering. One of them simply recited an age old warning. Here Be Dragons! It was a relic from the early days of airships and exploration, from before Nira’s empire made pacts of truce and alliance with the great beasts. Malaresh liked the old ways, and Nira imagined he liked the old warnings, too. The other sign once read, Tributes Required. However, the word ‘required’ had been crossed it and another word written beneath it. Now the sign said, Tributes Welcomed. As much as Nira would have liked to think the old dragon was softening, she suspected it was more likely that Amelia was playing a joke on him. 

Behind the signs were massive double doors, nearly large enough to fly a small shuttle-ship through. The doors were kept open, and painted to look like the yawning entrance to a grandiose cavern. Just beyond them, boxes, boxes, crates, barrels, chests, and other containers littered the area. Many more of them lined the towering walls, lashed in place by heavy ropes, nets, and rigging. 

Most of them didn’t actually belong to the dragon. Before the dragon joined their crew, all the former dragon living quarters had been transformed into cargo bays. Given that there were few safe places to dock The Cataclysm for repair and resupply, they had to carry as many supplies of all kinds as possible. From dried and preserved foods to fuel, oil, coal, to every manner of spare part imaginable. When Malaresh claimed not only the largest bay for himself, but those alongside it, Nira stipulated that he had to continue to allow them to store cargo there, as needed. He’d only objected a little, and then claimed the cargo for himself, to add to his ever-expanding hoard. 

In his years board the ship, Malaresh had amassed a hoard worthy of the kingdom-terrorizing dragons of old. Countless coins of silver and gold lay scattered everywhere, piled in random heaps and strewn across the ground. Sharply cut, faceted gems littered the floor. She nudged a few aside with her boot as she walked deeper into the dragon’s sleeping area. Bejeweled goblets lay here and there, alongside ornamental shields and ceremonial ebony armor inscribed with stylized beasts. A sword with a bright silver-blade, and a sapphire crusted hilt lay haphazardly across the top of a crate, overflowing with crystalline figurines.

There were also trophies claimed by the dragon during raids, or after great battles. An airship cannon from a Union artillery vessel lay amidst a heap of rifles and pistols. A blood stained, gold and white uniform from a commanding officer was draped across a plaque. The plaque itself displayed an ornate silver and black flintlock, awarded to some Union soldier or another sometime in the past. 

The dragon himself often lounged or slept atop the largest pile of treasure. Heaps of coins had all been mounded together, along with plentiful other trinkets and items of value. Most of it was hidden beneath layers of fanciful colored silks, thick, soft blankets, and tasseled cushions. It was as if the dragon had smothered the bulk of his hoard beneath an entire city’s worth of bedclothes in hopes of somehow making it comfortable to sleep on. Nira had always questioned the old tales of dragons slumbering on mountains of gold. Even for a creature with scales, she doubted such a bed could be anything but profoundly uncomfortable. But Nira knew Malaresh savored the old, classical ideals of dragons. He fancied himself the sort of kingly conqueror depicted on antique tapestries, coiled atop a mountain of gold and holding court with the lesser creatures. 

Truthfully, most of the gold Malaresh hoarded wasn’t even his. It was Nira’s. 

In the frantic hours before the ship first launched, chest upon chest loaded with golden coins and other treasure was stowed aboard. The more of the Empire’s wealth they could keep out of Union hands, the better. But more importantly, Nira’s parents wanted to ensure that she was able to pay for anything the ship and its crew might need. Nira tried to add to their stockpile as often as she spent from it. If they were going to live like pirates, they may as well act like them, too. They’d raided dozens of Union merchant vessels, as well as shipments of gold and other liquid assets. 

Nira felt it important that the Cataclysm maintain a sizable fund with which to pay for supplies and repairs. The ship had a high cost of upkeep to begin with, let alone when factoring in keeping it fueled, keeping the crew fed, and so on. To make makes worse the Golden Union had an embargo against them, and their influence stretched well beyond their official borders. Most places where they could buy things like parts, fuels, and ammunition where black markets, and places that catered mostly to pirates and outlaws. Nira had no problem with that, they were, after all, outlaws themselves. But those sorts of markets also tended to charge a premium for products that were often subpar, knowing full well that their patrons had little recourse. Thankfully, they’d also made connections with those who sold high quality goods, but those prices were higher still. 

Once upon a time, all the ship’s vast treasury was neatly organized, and every coin accounted for. Entire rooms were filled with organized stacks of numbered chests, carefully catalogued pouches, drawers with individually appraised gemstones, display cases with antique jeweled goblets, and on and on. That lasted up until Malaresh decided to rebuilt his hoard by helping himself to the ship’s wealth. Chest after chest had been upended onto the floor of his sleeping chamber, and tossed aside. To this day, numbered boxes still littered the area in brazen display of the dragon’s unauthorized relocation. 

If only she could convince the dragon to catalogue everything he’d collected. As long as he wasn’t spending it, Nira saw little point in fighting with him over its return. Disorganization and poorly balanced accounting sheets were but a small price to pay for keeping the ship’s most volatile crewmember a little more content. If the rest of their funds ever ran dry, then Nira would have to convince Malaresh to relinquish his ‘bed’. Until then, she’d let him have his fun. 

The Princess picked her way through Malaresh’s so-called lair, towards the dragon’s treasure-bed. Flickering lamps lit the hold in a ghostly orange hue. A faint, smoky haze hung in the air, drifting from brass censers. The dragon often burned mixtures of herbal incenses to tint the air in his quarters with exotic scents. Malaresh liked them, though Nira always thought it smelt like smoking a pipe, in a medicinal shop, deep in a primal swamp. 

Malaresh lay atop his pile of treasure at the back of the room, curled completely around Jirril. Lamplight glistened against his black and green scales, and left golden markings glowing. Nira found it the light’s effects fascinating. It made most of his scales look damp, even as it transmuted his gold tones to sunlight. The dragon’s wings were draped across Jirril, almost completely enveloping his gryphon lover. Only Jirril’s head and tail protruded from Malaresh’s sheltering wing. Jirril’s head lay upon the crook of Malaresh’s foreleg. The gryphon’s feathered tail intertwined with the dragon’s, feathers brushing curled spines. Nira smiled at the sight of them so intimately sleeping together. 

For all tales and myths that claimed dragons unable to truly know friendship, let alone love, seeing Malaresh snuggled with Jirril always proved a powerful counterpoint. More likely, she thought, throughout the long history of the species, through their many conflicts and alliances with humanity, the dragons were just too proud to admit such a thing. Whenever she saw them together, Nira was convinced all the more that Jirril was the anchor which bound Malaresh to the ship. If that didn’t prove dragons capable of love, Nira didn’t know what would. 

Malaresh’s eyes opened to glittering emerald slits, fixed immediately upon Nira. “Yes?” 

Nira chuckled, her voice soft. “Good morning to you, too. Sorry to wake you two, but it’s getting pretty late in the morning.” 

Malaresh merely grunted. Despite the evenness of the dragon’s breathing, Nira suspected he’d awoken the moment she set foot in his lair. He seemed to possess a nearly supernatural ability to sense when someone was intruding upon his space. “And your point, is?” 

The princess smiled, putting her hands on her hips. “That we have plans to discuss. I know you were up late, but so was I.” 

The dragon lifted his head, just a little. “You have not just returned from weeks long away missions, or been in a fight with a feathered spy.”

“Be that as it may, we haven’t got a lot of time to waste.” Nira shifted her attention to Jirril as the gryphon blinked away. He yawned, his beak parked wide, thin tongue curling within it. The gryphon stretched is forelegs out from under the dragon’s wings, front paws splayed wide. Even his tail slipped away from the dragon’s to stretch out behind him. “Morning, Jirril.” 

When Jirril’s stretch ended, he clicked his beak, then perked his ears in gryphon smile. “Morning, my darling Princess. Don’t suppose we can go back to sleep?” 

Nira shrugged, nudging a few loose coins with her boot. “You can. The dragon can’t.” 

“The hell he can’t.” The dragon lowered his head right back down, curling his neck to drape it across Jirril. “Come back later.” 

“I thought you said dragons didn’t snuggle.” Nira folded her arms. 

“I am not snuggling him,” Malaresh said, his voice an irritable murmur. “It is chilly. We are nestling for warmth.”

“Whatever you say, Snuggles.” Nira ignored the dragon’s grunt of protect. “Anyway, I wanted to talk to you before I go talk to Alakor.” She tilted her head towards the mound of purloined gold upon which the two creatures lay. “You know, just because you fucked a gryphon on all that treasure doesn’t make it yours.” 

Malaresh lifted his head, glancing between Jirril and Nira. “The treasure, or the gryphon?” 

“Both of them!”

“Nonsense.” Malaresh gave a forceful snort, thumping his tail hard enough to send coins flying. “They’re both mine.” 

“Excuse me?” Jirril jerked his head back up, ruffling up his feathers in indignation. “I might be yours, but I do not belong to you.” 

“Neither does any of this treasure,” Nira said. “But that’s never stopped him.” 

“Oh, shush bird.” Malaresh licked the back of Jirril’s neck. “Everything in this room belongs to me.” 

Nira loudly cleared her throat. 

Malaresh spared her a brief glance. “Are you still here?” 

Jirril peered down at her, his crown feathers flared up. “You’d better be making that noise in my defense.”

“Was thinking more about myself, but yeah, alright.” Nira grinned at the dragon. “Neither of us belong to you, dragon. And the treasure-”

“Is my dutifully earned fee for my many services.” Malaresh bared his fangs, his frills extended in pride. “Dragons do not come cheap.” 

“Fee?” Jirril chirped, digging his paws under the blankets to try and scoop up some coins. “He gets paid a fee?” 

“He does not get paid-”

“I want a fee, too!” Jirril warbled laughter, leaning against the dragon. “I should expect gryphon services do not come cheaply, either.”

“Incorrect.” Malaresh selected a single gold coin, and set it before the gryphon. “Here. Your fee for your services as concubine.” 

Nira arched her brows, taking a few steps back just in case that provoked any kind of physical retaliation from the gryphon. 

Jirril stared at the coin. “How. Dare.” He tilted his head, looking up at the dragon. “First? I am not your concubine. Second, you could not afford me if I was. Third-”

“You’re right.” The dragon picked the coin back up, and set it aside. “Concubines aren’t paid. They’re just expected to perform.” 

Jirril suddenly snapped his head forward, nipping at the dragon’s neck several times in quick succession. Malaresh yelped and laughed, shoving the gryphon’s beak away. Jirril nipped at his fingers instead, fluffing himself up. “I shall not take your insults, lizard! Now take it back, or the next time, I go for your ears!” 

“Fine, fine. Cease your pecking, you irritable hen!” Malaresh rubbed his neck. “It tickles!” 

Jirril nipped him again, further up his neck. 

“Ow!” The dragon tried to grab Jirril’s beak, but the gryphon evaded him. “Very well, I take it back. You’re not my concubine.” 

“That’s better.” Jirril made a show of smugly preening one of his wings. “Besides, it’d be an easy job if I was.” He glanced an Nira, beak parted and ears splayed in gryphon smirk. “Dragons might not come cheaply, but they do come first.” 

Nira burst into laughter. 

Malaresh hissed at the gryphon, baring his fangs. “Lies, and slanderous jests!” He eased up, uncurling from around the gryphon. “This is what I think of your cruel, and highly inaccurate abuse!” He splayed a forepaw and dragged it against the lay of Jirril’s feathers, all the way from his haunches to his head. 

The gryphon gave a horrified squawk. “My plumage!” His preening took on a nearly frantic pace. “You’ve mussed me beyond recognition!” 

“Yes!” The dragon made an odd noise, a rumbling murmur. “You’re sullied now, much as you’ve sullied my reputation in front of the Princess.” He pushed up to all fours, and shook himself. “Enough idle insults and unpleasantries. I’m going for a piss while the bird fixes himself up.” 

Jirril snapped at beak at the dragon’s tail as it slipped past him. “Someone ought to fix you!”

“You’d miss them.” Malaresh climbed down his bed of treasure, striding past Nira on his way towards the lavatory. “Don’t believe a word the bird says while I’m away.” 

Nira held her hands up. “I don’t think I’d believe a word either of you say in jest about the other.” 

As the dragon strode past her, Nira could almost imagine the deck shaking under his heavy footballs. His tail brushed her, and she ran her fingers across the scales. They were warm, and pleasantly smooth to the touch. Nearer the end of his tail, she trailed her fingers across the curled spines that tipped it. Each was thick, heavy, and more than sturdy enough to punch through even heavy armor. 

Malaresh flicked his tail away from her. “You may fondle my tail upon my return. First I need to piss before my bladder ruptures.” 

Nira laughed, dusting off her hands. She smiled at the gryphon. “Charming creature, your love.” 

“He has his moments.” Jirril spat a feather onto the blankets. “Admittedly, they are few and far between. Now, clamber up here and do me a favor, my darling, won’t you?”

“Pet you?” Nira carefully made her way up the hill of treasure, and blankets. 

“What?” Jirril gave her a confused look, then shook his head, clicking his beak. “No, no, no. First, we must get my feathers back in proper place!” He chirped, rustling his wings. “Then you must pet me.” 

Coins and other trinkets shifted ominously beneath layers of blankets as Nira approached the gryphon. She kept her arms out for balance, though by the time she reached Jirril, things felt more stable beneath her. “I don’t know how you two can sleep on this.”

“I couldn’t, if it was just gold.” Jirril twisted his head around, preening at his wings. “But the blankets and cushions and such make it surprisingly comfortable. At least it doesn’t shift around under us the way it used to.”

“Speak for yourself.” Nira set her hands on the gryphon’s back, smoothing down patches of ruffled indigo feathers. “Climbing up here felt a bit like walking on pillows filled with sand. I could feel all the coins moving under me.”

“Oh, that’s nothing.” Jirril flicked his tail. “It was far worse at first. Now it’s mostly settled, and compacted. A few times, Malaresh lost his balance and fell over. Another time his front legs slipped out when the coins gave way, and he smacked his jaw on the floor so hard I was afraid he was going to spit teeth!” The gryphon warbled sympathetic laugh. “He added a lot more blankets and pillows all around, after that. I suspect as much for traction as for comfort!”

Nira winced even as she laughed with him. She’d never imagined the more practical concerns dragons might have to consider when lounging about on piles of treasure. “I’m glad he wasn’t badly injured. It sounds like it could have been a lot worse.”

“He was certainly in pain.” Jirril preened at his other wing, then turned his head to try and survey Nira’s work with the feathers he couldn’t reach. “But nothing damaged aside from his ego. Besides, he’s had far more painful, and embarrassing accidents around here.” 

Nira brushed down a few swaths of ruffled blue plumage. “Such as? I think I remember you mentioning one of those the other night. Till Malaresh threatened to pluck you if you told him.” 

“Oh! That’s right!” Jirril cast a conspiratorial glance across the room, towards the oversized doorway that lead to the dragon’s latrine and bathing area. “Run me a bath, will you?” 

A few moments later, and Malaresh’s voice echoed back to them. “Unless you’re joining me in mine, yours can wait!”

Somewhere above her, pipes creaked, and steam hissed. The distant sound of running water soon followed. Like the gryphon area, several of the cargo bays-turned living quarters for dragons had their own piping, floor latrines, and copper tubs built in. Originally, they would have had to serve a whole flight of dragons, though now Malaresh had them to himself, along with anyone he choose to share them with like Jirril, and from the sounds of things, Amelia. 

“I thought he went to take a piss?” Amelia stared at the bathing area’s entryway. “You suppose he was always planning a bath, or is he just taking one to irritate me by delaying things?”

“Honestly?” Jirril gave a little squawk. “The second one. We took a long bath together last night, after we’d had our fun, so he hardly needs one now. I, however…” He sighed, gazing back at his feathers. “Will need to soak for hours to get my poor plumage back in order.” 

Nira rolled her eyes, running her fingers through the gryphon’s back feathers. “You’re fine.” She smoothed him down from his neck to his tail feathers, chuckling. “I couldn’t even tell you’d been mussed at all.” 

“Of course not. You’re a human.” Jirril circled a paw around Nira’s head. “You barely even know what to do with all the tangled mess up here! Let alone how to properly treat and arrange beautiful feathers and silken fur.” 

“My hair is not a tangled mess!” Nira combed her fingers through her hair, catching a few tangles. She scowled. “Well, it’s not a mess, anyway.” She dropped her hands down. “Are you going to tell me about that story or not?” 

“That depends.” Jirril tilted his head, clicking his beak twice. “Are you going to pet me, or not?” 

“Gods,” Nira said, heaving a mock sigh. “You are the neediest damn creature.” She put her hands on Jirril’s neck, rubbing and scratching around his ears in little circles. 

Jirril cooed in delight, leaning his head into Nira’s hands. “Creatures as gorgeous as myself are not needy! We’re deserving.” 

“Deserving of a swift kick in the gryphon plums, maybe.” Nira worked her hands down Jirril’s neck. “Speaking of which, isn’t that what reminded you of that story?”

“Oh, that’s right!” Jirril swatted a paw against a cushion. He peered after Malaresh, ears swiveling to the sounds of water. “I’ll tell you while he’s got the water running. I thought if I got him to run a bath, it would drown out our voices.”

“Clever bird.” Nira scratched back up towards his ears again. “But you do two understand why don’t have infinite water supplies aboard, right? Bath and latrine water usually gets filtered and funneled up to serve in the boilers to help conserve our overall supplies, but we’re not hauling a damn ocean.” 

“Which is why we often share the bath!” 

Nira tweaked the gryphons ear, grinning. “Yeah, I’m sure conservation is why you two share the tub. That’s why Amelia uses your tub too, right?”

Jirril gave a little squawk. “Oh, certainly, it’s foremost on her mind, when she’s parading around in the nude before Malaresh and I.” 

“Parading?” Nira quirked a brow, grinning. “Do you suppose that’s the same term she’d use?”

“You’d have to ask her, wouldn’t you.” Jirril lifted a forepaw, waggling a single half-unsheathed claw. “Now, I’m only going to tell you one embarrassing story likely to get me in trouble with Malaresh, so do you want to hear the one I hinted at before? Or do you want to hear something about Amelia?”

“I get a choice?” Nira stroked the gryphon’s head. “Let’s just go with the first one. Malaresh threatened to pluck you like a chicken, so that has to be good.” 

“Oh, it is!” Jirril twisted around to bump his beak against her hand. “But I shall expect you to use your authority to decree my plumage a national treasure, first.” 

“That’s not going to happen.” Nira cupped the gryphon’s beak, offering him a smile. “But I will protect you from being plucked.” 

“Good enough, I suppose.” Jirril lifted his head, clearing his throat. “So, it was morning, on an especially windy day. Turbulent enough to jar even this massive monstrosity.” He waved his paw at the ship around them. “Malaresh was being lazy, as usual. He’d been up for breakfast, and returned for a nap.” 

The Princess shook her head, smiling. “I think that dragon could make a cat seem accomplished.” She poked the side of his beak. “Not that you gryphons are any better.” 

Jirril clicked his beak at her. “I shall ignore that!” He tossed his head, ruffling up his feathers. “So, there he was, fast asleep, and sprawled upon his back.” Jirril brushed her with a wing, nudging her away. “A bit like this.” The gryphon carefully eased over onto his back, his wings draped across the bed, fore legs stretched up past his head, and hind legs sprawled wide. “Snoring! Adorable, really.” 

Nira looked the gryphon over, her hands on her hips. “Are you sure you’re not really part cat? Because that’s exactly how cats sleep, sometimes.” 

“I wasn’t the one doing it!” Jirril lifted his head to glare at her. “It was Malaresh! Besides, I’m sure lots of four-legged creatures sleep on their backs sometimes.” 

“Including gryphons?” 

“Do you want to hear the rest of this story, or not?” Jirril flicked his wing tip against Nira’s boots. 

“Yes, yes, go on.” 

“Then give me a belly rub.” Jirril pulled one of his wings closer to his body to make room. 

“Oh, lord, you are a damn cat.” Nira came forward and knelt alongside the gryphon, reaching out to rub his belly. Up close, the gray fur there was speckled with tiny black spots. “You only demonstrated his position because you wanted your belly rubbed, didn’t you.” 

Jirril rumbled a velvety purr, eyes half lidded. “Yes.” After a few moments of savoring Nira’s affection, he lifted a forepaw to point to the nearby wall. Several areas that once held cargo now stood empty, their rigging unused. “So anyway, there used to be crates of supplies, and barrels of ale and wine and things kept up there.” 

“Yeah, I remember Malaresh had them removed and stored elsewhere, because he was paranoid something was going to come free and fall on him…” Nira blinked, her hands stilling. “In his sleep.” She bit her lip to hold back a laugh, shaking her head. “Oh, lord. Something did, didn’t it.” 

“A wine cask!” Jirril pointed up higher. “All the way up there. He’d been collecting them for us. The ship hit turbulence, the worst of the day, and it rocked everything back and forth. Threw us hard one way, then another, then back again.” 

“I remember that.” Nira rubbed the gryphon’s exposed stomach in wide circles. “Ship lost a lot of breakables and a few fragile valuables that day.” 

“And it almost lost two more!” The gryphon warbled laughter. “Because all at once, the rigging went snap!” He sharply clapped his forepaws together. “And the topmost cask came free, and toppled through the air…” Jirril sent a foreleg into a diving motion towards his lower body. “And it struck Malaresh, full force…” Jirril pointed down between his own hind legs. “Right in the balls!” 

“Oh, Gods!” Nira burst out laughing, covering her face with a hand. “That poor dragon!” 

Jirril laughed with her, a chirruping melodious sound. “The barrel broke, spilled wine over everything. Malaresh woke up, shrieking…I mean really shrieking!” He flattened back his ears and crown feathers, still laughing. “I didn’t even know dragons could shriek! He grabbed himself and as he curled up, he rolled right off the bed and down onto the floor. Ended up laying there in a sort of, wriggling heap of scales and twitching wings, making all sorts of strange noises.” 

Nira was still laughing too, rubbing the gryphon’s belly again. “No wonder he doesn’t want you telling this story.”

“And yet he’d be ever so quick to tell everyone, if it were me that was nearly neutered by a rogue barrel!” Jirril harrumphed and clacked his beak.

“He probably would, yes.” Nira patted the gryphon’s underbelly. “He was alright in the end though, I assume? Doesn’t seem as though he had any, shall we say, anatomical rearrangements.” 

Jirril tilted his head, beak parted in gryphon smirk. “Ooh, that’s good, I like that. And yes, he was fine, thankfully. Though I wasn’t sure, at first! I think every male takes an accidental shot in the boys once in a while, but I’d never heard a dragon squeal like that. I was afraid he’d actually injured something! Everything looked alright, when I finally got him to move his paws a moment, but I’m hardly a trained surgeon. I wanted to go get the medics immediately, but he strictly forbid it.” Jirril chirped. “Well, once he could do more than squeak and groan, anyway. I managed to get him to go soak himself in a cold tub for a bit, at least, then he spent the rest of the day curled up and feeling sorry for himself.” 

Nira patted the gryphon, then sat back. “Wait, was that last year? When he made you tell everyone he wouldn’t be leaving his room for a day or two because he was sick? I remember you had the crew wash and scrub all your blankets and everything.”

“That’s the day!” Jirril waved a paw in the air. “Somehow, it was less embarrassing for him to make everyone think he drank himself sick on red wine, then puked it all back up, than to admit what really happened.” 

The Princess pushed herself back up to her feet. “That scaly shit! He was limping for a few days after that, too! He told me he puked so hard he pulled something. I actually felt sorry for him!”

“Which is why he told you!” Jirril rolled over onto his belly, shaking himself. “He couldn’t very well have said he was only limping because his nuts were sore because a wine barrel fell on them. You’d have laughed your ass off.”

“Of course I would,” Nira said, giggling again. “But I’d still have felt sorry for him. If you’d have told me when it happened, I could have ordered him to let the medics examine him.” 

Jirril shrugged his wings. “Then we’d both have had a dragon, and a medical platoon angry with us.” 

“They’d get over.” Nira waved off the gryphon’s concern. “Besides, they’re medics. That’s their job. They don’t get to pick and choose which injuries to treat. I’m glad he was alright, though.”

“As am I!” Jirril turned his head, preening a wing. “Because now we get to laugh about it!” 

“At least when he’s not around, right?” Nira turned towards the doorway to the dragon’s bathing chamber. The sounds of running water had been replaced with splashing, and sloshing. “Speaking of which, how long is he likely to be bathing?” 

“Longer than you’d like to wait.” Jirril folded his wing, and turned his attention to its twin. “If only because he knows it will irritate you.” He waved his back towards the lavatory. “If I were you, I’d just go talk to him while he’s bathing. It’s not as if he’s naked.” He blinked, tilting his head. “Well, he is, but he’s always naked, so-”

“I know what you mean.” Nira smoothed down the crown feathers on the back of Jirril’s neck. “I’m not going to see anything you gryphons and dragons aren’t naturally displaying, anyway.”

“Exactly.” Jirril spat a feather on the ground, pausing his grooming. “Well, unless he’s hard.” 

Nira laughed, and shrugged. “It happens, I understand. Hell, I half expected him to be when he got up this morning. Morning time, and all. Guess his dreams weren’t all that pleasant.”

“Nonsense. His dreams are always pleasant when I’m around.” Jirril clicked his beak twice. “But sometimes it just happens. I just wouldn’t want you to be offended if you accidentally caught sight of it.” 

“Offended?” Nira arched her brows, grinning. “Hell, with all the rumors I hear about dragons, I’d probably look.”

Jirril warbled, and went back to preening. “Ah, yes, the rumors. I can tell you, some are true, and some quite false, but I’ll leave it to your imagination which is which.”

“Some help you are.” The princess patted his head, then made carefully made her way off of the bed of treasure and blankets. “I’d better go speak with him before he falls asleep again.” 

*****

Chapter Eighteen

*****

Nira headed for the doorway that led to Malaresh’s bathing chamber. Though they called it a door, it was really more of a giant, open arch. There was no physical door, only a set of heavy maroon curtains to allow for a bit of privacy. Why the gryphon quarters had doors and the dragons had only sturdy curtains, Nira did not know. Perhaps the shipbuilders had simply run out of time to install doors appropriate for dragons. Or maybe they expected dragons to have even fewer concerns for modesty than gryphons. 

The dragon areas also have fewer lavatory spaces in general. Each of them connected to several difficult living spaces intended to house a dragon. If the ship had fulfilled its original intended purpose, then the dragons in those quarters would have all shared a latrine and a tub. The deck also had several holds with exterior entrances complete with landing ramps, though Nira doubted the dragons would have ever made much use of them aside from emergencies. Malaresh’s people were not as maneuverable in the air as gryphons. It was far easier for Malaresh to use the giant landing pad towards the back of the ship for both landing, and taking off. 

Malaresh lounged in the sunken, copper tub, his wedge-shaped head resting on the ground just outside it. Puddles marked floor, a few of them sluicing towards the drains installed in several places. The ship was designed in such a way as to collect and recycle as much excess water as possible. A vast network of copper pipes and a great number of reservoirs distributed throughout the ship helped keep water flowing as needed. The ship kept separate supplies of water exclusively for drinking, but everything else that was dirtied could be filtered and sent to the boilers when required. Finicky pumps and filter systems meant it didn’t always work perfectly, but thanks to the hard work of Vekk and his engineering crew, they nearly always worked.

Nira did her best to step around all the puddles as she approached the dragon. The closer to the tub she grew, the more impossible it became to avoid standing in water. Eventually she gave up. As long as the dragon didn’t suddenly shift his weight and send a torrent of water cascading over her feet, it probably wasn’t going to be enough to seep into her boots anyway. Steam wafted from the tub all around him, blanketing him in warm mist. 

“Where’s Rog?” Malaresh watched her through slitted eyes, lifting his muzzle only enough to speak. 

The princess came to a stop just in front of his face. “Not sure. He was still asleep when I left this morning.”

“Oh?” Malaresh lifted his head a little more, a mischievous smile playing across his muzzle. “Still asleep, where?”

Nira only shrugged. “In bed.”

Malaresh perked his ears. “And which bed would that be?”

The princess idly inspected her nails. “The bed he slept in last night.” 

“Which is-”

“Comfortable?” Nira tilted her head, feigning confusion. “So many questions about beds.” She sucked in a breath, then smiled. “Oh, I get it, I know what you want to know.” 

Malaresh smiled, lifting his frills. “So, did you?” 

“Did I get you a new mattress? No, not yet.” Nira stretched her arms over her head, yawning. “But I will, if you want.” 

The dragon lifted a dripping foreleg, slapping it against the floor. Water splashed everywhere. “Did you and the gnoll-”

“Sleep in the same bed?” Nira could him off before he could ask too direct a question, and phrased her words carefully. “Yes, we slept next to each other, but we’ve done that countless times.” She gave him an innocent smile. “Slept, that is. We like to drink a lot, you see, and it’s safer for us if we just pass out where we are, rather than try and stumble back to our own rooms.”

“And before you slept…” Malaresh took a slow breath. “Did you-”

“Toss and turn?” Nira nodded, scrunching her face. “Absolutely. Rog snores, you know, it tends to keep me up at first. But I get used to it and drop off eventually.” 

Malaresh finally gave a frustrated snarl. “Did you fuck the gnoll or not?”

Nira put a hand to her chest, gasping. “What a horribly rude thing to ask! Besides, Rog is my lifelong companion, bodyguard, and best friend! Surely, no one has ever had sex under those circumstances.” 

Malaresh snorted. “Your sarcasm speaks volumes.” 

The princess smiled, and nodded once. “Yes, just the way I wanted it to.” 

The dragon slapped his paw again. “Damn it. Why don’t you just come out and admit that you fuck the gnoll?” 

“Why, where would the fun in that be?” Nira laughed, shaking her head. 

“Oh?” Malaresh cocked his head. “Was his performance that disappointing the first time?” 

“Nice try,” Nira said, then decided to turn the tables on the dragon. “Say, how are your balls feeling?” 

“Fine.” The dragon narrowed his eyes, flattening his frills and ears. “Why?” 

“No lingering after-effects of the incident with the harness?” 

“Oh, that.” Malaresh shook his head. “No, they are fine, but your concern is noted.”

“Good, good.” Nira rubbed her hands, casually glancing around the room. “And all recovered from having a wine barrel fall on them?” 

Malaresh jerked his head up, gold-edged frills suddenly on full display. “Jirril!” He snarled towards the curtain-covered doorway. “You told her about the wine barrel? When I’m finished with you, you’re going to be as bald and ugly as a damn vulture!” 

“You’ll do no such thing!” Jirril pushed the curtain aside, glaring at the dragon through it. “Or not only will I tell her more of your embarrassing stories? But you’ll be servicing yourself until every last feather has not only grown back in, but attained its full size and beauty!”

Malaresh hissed, tossing his head. “That goes both ways, you know! Who’d ever want to pleasure a bald old vulture, who can’t keep secrets?” 

“Well, if that’s your attitude, I’m leaving!” Jirril pulled his head back, vanishing behind the curtain. A moment later, he poked it back in, his voice all soothing charm and gentle playfulness. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t resist. You tell embarrassing about me to the girls, after all!” 

“Well, don’t tell anyone else.” Malaresh sighed, glancing at the Princess. “You either.” 

Nira held her hands up. “Oh, I’m absolutely telling Amelia. And Kasis. And the girls. And Rog. But no one else. Well, also Vekk. But no one else. Other than maybe-” 

Malaresh growled. “Don’t you even think about telling that dirty snow pigeon!” 

Jirril warbled for the dragon’s attention again. “I’m going to get some food. Do you want me to bring you something?” 

“As it seems her Highness here refuses to let me bath without conversation, yes.” Malaresh bowed his head to the gryphon. “Please do, thank you.”

“Alright.” Jirril turned away again, this time, sticking his tail through the curtains just to shake the feathers at them. “Back in a flurry, darlings!” 

“Back in a flurry?” Nira scratched her head. “Is that a gryphon saying? Cause I’ve never heard it.” 

“I think it’s a Jirril saying.” Malaresh lowered his head to lay it against the floor around the tub again. “Alright, Human. What’s so important that you have to discuss it with me before I’ve even had breakfast, or my morning nap?”

“You’re flying with us to the Emplacement.” Nira shook a finger at him. “And that’s final. After last night, you have no room to argue.”

Malaresh gave a low, rumbling noise of disappointment. “Oh, very well. If you insist. Despite the fact I only just completed that long, exhausting flight.” 

“Wasn’t exhausting enough to prevent you from fighting with Alakor.” Nira tapped her boot, near the dragon’s nose. “Speaking of which.” She leaned over, inspecting the back of the dragon’s jaws. The area where they met his throat still looked a little swollen, but not too bad. Cracked and broken scales marred bruised areas of his muzzle. “How’re you feeling? And be honest with me. I have a report from the medics, though I haven’t read it yet. So I’ll know if you’re lying.” 

The dragon grumbled in his native tongue. He lifted a paw, rubbing his throat. “My throat hurts when I swallow. Feels like my fire glands are being squeezed. And my muzzle aches from getting knocked around, but the pain will fade soon enough.” He grunted, then nosed at her, unusually gentle. “Thank you for your concern, however.” 

Nira smiled, rubbing his nose. “You’re welcome.” 

Just as quickly, Malaresh’s usual abrasiveness returned. “A concern that is nullified by the fact you plan to force me to undertake a mission where I will likely be shot at on site. Jirril too.” Malaresh bared his fangs, hissing again. “Especially if the Union is still there.” 

“If the Union fires on you, you have my permission to fire back.” Nira smiled down at the dragon. “With actual fire.” 

Malaresh rumbled, a smile creeping across his muzzle. “Oh? Perhaps this trip won’t be so bad, after all.” 

“I’m also planning to take Alakor.” 

“And, now it’s all plopped into the shitter.” Malaresh stretched a wing up from the water, using a wing-tip talon to rub his head, just beneath a horn. “Why the hell would you bring him?”

“To test his mettle.” Nira spread her arms, waving a hand. “You think he wants to revenge? Well, if we have to fight, let’s see if he can bring himself to take it. And if we don’t have to fight? If the Union’s there and they refuse to start a firefight they can’t win? Let’s see if Alakar can hold back all that hatred you saw.” 

Malaresh eased himself up into a seated position, the top half of his body jutting up out of the sunken tub. Water ran down his black scales in beads and rivulets. “Much as I hate to admit it, that is a wise strategy.” 

“I thought so.” Nira strode back and forth before the top, her boots splashing in puddles. “Maybe you’re right, and he’s setting up a trap for the Union, expecting us to smash them. But maybe next time? Maybe next time they set a trap for us, and for him. I need to now, when we hope to hold the advantage, if I can trust him in combat. What if they send other snow gryphons after them? Can he fight them, if he has to? What if we capture someone who used to beat him? Can he restrain himself from ripping them up, now that he’s free? Those aren’t answers I want to be unpleasantly surprised by when our lives may be on the line.” 

“Nor I.” Malaresh tucked his wing back, snorting.

“There’s another reason too.” Nira paused her pacing to face the dragon. “He’s a spy, right? Or so he says? Then he ought to have a lot of insider knowledge about the sort of people they’d send to look for him. Obviously, with his colors, he’s going to stick out like blood on the snow, but their people might not. We might need to him to say, that person is a union operative! Or to tell us their people are lying to us, or when information we get from Prav’s people conflicts with knowledge he’s gained as a spy, that sort of thing.”

“So you wish him to prove his value as an intelligence asset.”

Nira pursed her lips. She hadn’t really considered it that way, but the dragon wasn’t wrong. “Something like that, yes.” She scratched her cheek. “Plus, if they’re actively looking for him, maybe we can use that to our own advantage. There’s got to be someone guiding that effort, right? Maybe we can use Alakor to flush them out. Some high up spymaster type would be a hell of a catch for us.” 

“You’re not wrong.” The dragon cocked his head, considering it. “If the Union has decided to re-consider you a threat they need to end, someone like that should be able to tell us why.” 

“Exactly.” Nira folded her arms, glad the dragon at least agreed with her reasoning, if nothing else. “So Alakor is going.”

“Who else are you planning to take?” 

“Amelia and the girls, probably. Jirril, I think. Rog, of course.” Nira clenched her jaw, considering. “Vekk and Kasis want to go, though the ship’s gonna be getting low on trusted officers, should anything bad happen to us all.” 

“I suspect the little furred one and his mate will want a chance to dig through one of those Union ships docked nearby.” 

“Oh, they absolutely will.” Nira resumed her pacing, her boots splashing against the wet floor. “Vekk for special parts that might have been too small for you and Jirril to get hold of, along with any technical manuals and other information. And Kasis is absolutely going to want a shot at Union recon ship’s intelligence dossiers and other secretive information. Not to mention the fact that if there’s going to be a fight…well, Kasis has never backed down from a fight in her life.” 

Malaresh rumbled rough draconic laughter. “You say that as if you, or anyone on this ship ever has.”

“True enough. Knowing when to quit, or back down?” Nira shook her head. “That’s never really been our strong suit.” 

“If you want my advice,” Malaresh said, slowly lifting his head. “I would bring the small ones, as well. You may need someone to watch your back who is naturally out of the line of fire.”

“I’m going to tell Kasis you’re calling her short.” 

“Everyone is short compared to a dragon.” Malaresh stretched his wings out, holding them above the floor around the tub. Water dripped and ran towards the drains. “Kobolds are diminutive.” 

“Be that as it may,” Nira said, holding back a laugh. “Talking like that about Kasis is just asking to get slugged in the nuts.”

Malaresh snorted, outstretched wings flexing. “She couldn’t reach them even if she jumped, and I was laying down! Besides, I’d eat her if she did.” He brandished a forepaw, flicking beads of water through the air. “The point is, take the small, scaly one, and her little fuzzy mate. The fuzzy one is good with his tiny firearms, and Kasis is…” He scrunched up his muzzle. “Well, probably good at flinging herself around the room, people like she’s gone rabid. More importantly, you trust them, and you’ve been through hell and gunfights with them before. If things do go bad, you’re better off with those who’ve proved they can hold their own. With those you can trust. You said yourself, Alakor has to prove to you that you can trust him, yes? Well, the small ones have already proven themselves. If they wish to go, take them.”

“Damn it.” Nira rubbed her forehead, grimacing. “I can’t really think of a good argument. I guess you dragons really do have moments of ancient wisdom, from time to time.”

“Of course we do.” Malaresh tucked a wing to hold its taloned tip against his chest. “I happen to have more of them than most.” 

The princess rolled her eyes. “Sure you do, Dragon, sure you do. Very well, then, I’ll let Kasis and Vekk know they’ll be going with us, and have Rog make sure they’re geared up appropriately.”

The dragon lifted his ears, a smile creeping across his muzzle. “How appropriately?”

“We might be going up against actual Union soldiers, or even special contingent operatives.” Nira settled her hands on the grips of her pistols, drumming her fingers. “Haven’t done that in a while. So, I think we should roll in heavy. Real heavy.” 

Malaresh gave a low, growling rumble. “Has the little fuzzy finished making guns large enough for dragons, yet?” 

“Vekk’s an engineer, he’s not a gunsmith. I keep telling you that!” Nira stared at the dragon, more bemused than irritated. “He and Rog can clean and repair firearms, but I don’t think they’d consider themselves capable of building you a giant gun.” 

The dragon crossed his forelegs, curling his neck in draconic sulk. “Everyone else has guns. I want guns, too.” 

“We could strap a cannon to your back.” Nira grinned at the mental image. 

“We could?” Malaresh lifted his head right back up, maw parted and frills perked. “Oh, yes, let’s do that!” 

“I was being sarcastic!” Nira shook her head, chuckling. “How would you even load it? Or fire it?”

“Make the little fuzzy one ride me, and fire it upon my command, of course!” 

“You’d blow your own damn head off,” Nira said. “At best, you’d go deaf.” 

“The ship’s cannoneers don’t go deaf.” The dragon rubbed one of his ears, as if contemplating it. 

“They have ear protection!” Nira stomped a boot against the damp floor. “We’re not strapping a cannon on your back.”

“Very well.” Malaresh arched his neck, gazing into the distance. “Not until the dragon-back cannon technology has been improved.”

“There is no dragon-back cannon technology!” 

“Then tell your engineers to get started on it!” Malaresh lowered his head until his emerald eyes were boring into hers. “I know your people once crafted guns and explosives for gryphons.” 

“Tried to,” Nira said. “That’s a very important distinction. They had one or two gryphon flights equipped with prototypes, that were never perfected, and the capital fell before they could make much progress.”

“At least give me some bombs to hurl!”

Nira arched a brow, considering it. “That’s…actually a possibility.” She shook a finger at the dragon. “But only if you’re very careful with them, and only if Amelia signs off.” 

“Amelia?” Malaresh smiled, flashing far too many sharp, slightly yellowed teeth. “She’ll practically insist.” 

“Then she’d better ‘insist’ on giving you a safety course, first!” Nira pinched the bridge of her nose, already regretting the idea. 

“Why?” The dragon cocked his head. “They explode, what else is there to learn?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Nira said. “You’re definitely not going to blow yourself up.” Nira held her hands up to ward off a reply. “I do think we should get you and the gryphons in armor, though, just to be safe. Beyond that, we can talk about equipment as the time approaches. I want to give us a day or two to prepare. I’m assuming those airships you and Jirril raided aren’t going to be in any condition to fly before then?”

The dragon shook his head. “No, they are stuck there, and so are their crews. At least until they can complete repairs. I am certain Prav will charge them a premium, but there is little they can do.”

“Fucking Prav.” Nira growled, grinding a boot against the floor, half-wishing she was stepping on something especially tender belonging to that scaly bastard. “Pisses me off that he’d even sell his services to the Union, considering that they’d happily wipe his whole establishment out, given an excuse.” 

The dragon merely flexed his wings. “He’s always sold to anyone with coin. Or those with credit. Or those willing to owe him a favor. Or those willing to su-”

“Yes, I know, but it still pisses me off.” Nira grimaced, still grinding her boot in frustration. “Maybe a few days stuck with the Union as customers will change his mind about serving them in the future.”

“Or, perhaps his other customers will kill them, and he can claim their ships for himself.”

Nira blinked, then scowled. “Shit. That’s actually possible. Then we’d have either lost the intel, or have to buy it from him.” Nira ran her hands down her face, groaning. “Let’s just…hope for the best, and prepare for the worst. We’ll talk about equipment soon. I’ve already had Kasis plot a course. I was going to tell her to wait before actually getting underway, but maybe I’ll give the order to make way after I talk with Alakor. We can prepare quickly, if we have to. I don’t want to waste too much time.” 

Malaresh watched her in silence for a moment. Gears turned behind the dragons green eyes, but Nira found them unreadable. “You should prepare your ship for battle.” 

Nira folded her arms. “Oh? Something you haven’t told me about your supply trip?”

“There are likely to be other vessels nearby. The recon vessels we raided were likely part of a larger group.” The dragon swished his tail under the water, sending little waves washing over the edge of the tub. Nira stepped away from them. “Not a battle fleet, by any stretch, but recon ships are vulnerable. They are likely to have had an escort, somewhere. Or worse.” 

“Worse?” Nira kneaded the sleeve of her jacket, gritting her teeth. “A commander’s vessel, probably. Someone guiding the search for Alakor. I’m guessing you saw something like that?” 

Malaresh nodded once. “At a distance, yes. Before we went to the emplacement. A larger ship, not big enough to be a destroyer, but from appearances, more heavily armed than recon vessels usually are. Sleek, white and gold in color. A Union vessel, but not of a make nor marking that I am familiar with. If they spotted me in turn, they did not engage.” 

Nira shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t expect them to if this was before you attacked their docked friends. Or if they didn’t know you had. They’re out here for a reason. Looking for Alakor, or looking for me, or both. They’d probably just assume you were a local dragon. They might think your species monsters, but firing unprovoked on a dragon your size is a bad idea. Most of their guns are made for aiming at the side of airships, or at the ground. Compared to their usual targets, you’re small and mobile.” 

A proud smile stretched across the dragon’s muzzle. “I have downed gunships before.” 

“Exactly.” Nira pointed at the dragon’s chest. “One good shell might be all it takes to bring down a dragon, but…putting that one shell in an agile, flying target like you is a hell of a lot harder than dropping on in the broadside of a ship. Even if they took you down, there’s a reasonable chance you’d set them on fire, in the process.” 

“It worked before,” the dragon said, purring at the moment. “You just fly quite high above them, or quite low, below them, beyond the angle at which their flak cannons can aim. Those are most dangerous to us, because they don’t have to hit you directly to shred your wings.” The dragon gazed into old memories for a little longer. Nira wondered anew just what he’d been doing before the Union caught him. None of his answers had ever been complete, and some of them even conflicted with others. Finally, he grunted, blinking away the past. “My point was, there was an unfamiliar ship lurking, about a day’s slow flight from The Emplacement. My guess would be it houses someone of importance, perhaps some spymaster.”

Nira nodded once. “I’ll ask Alakor about it. And you’re right, if there’s a ship like that out there, there’s probably more. I’ll put us on general alert, and set everyone to battle stations until we’re all back from The Emplacement. New ships or not, I don’t think they’d be foolish enough to fuck with The Cataclysm, at least not directly. But just in case, we’ll be ready.” 

“We should all be ready.” Malaresh lifted a paw and gestured at the room around them. “A ship this size is not exactly hard to see coming, even without modern spyglasses and other far-seeing devices. If they glimpse us at a distance, they may attempt to organize however many vessels they have to surround us, and attack en masse.” The dragon gave a derisive snort. “They would still lose, but we would not go without damage. Or casualties.” 

“Agreed.” Nira scowled, a cold tightness squeezing her heart. It had been a long time since they’d lost anyone. She sure as hell didn’t want to go through it again. “Let’s just hope calm heads prevail.” Then she poked the dragon’s muzzle. “On both sides.” 

Malaresh ignored her. “Furthermore, should they see the ship coming, they make attempt to take you out once they realize you’ve disembarked. Or, even if you’re recognized in the tavern or elsewhere throughout The Emplacement.” 

“Which is why I said we’re all going in heavy.” Nira let her hands come to rest on her guns again. “We’ll be as ready as we can be.” She pivoted on her heel, gazing around. “Not sure how close we bring this thing to The Emplacement. It’s too big for any of their docks, obviously. And I’m not comfortable being in easy range of their guns, even if we could wipe that whole cliffside off the map, if we had too. But I think we’re gonna have to get pretty close, this time. We’ll all be at our most vulnerable when we’re flying between the ship, and the Emplacement. So the shorter that trip is, the safer. Plus, they’ll be less likely to take shots at us…” Nira turned back towards the dragon. “And you, if they realize doing so is gonna incur the wrath of this big girl.” She patted the wall. 

“Agreed.” The dragon lifted a paw from the water, gesturing with it. “However, do consider that it will be more dangerous for your ship to open fire, if needed, if we are between it, and its targets.”

“I know, I know. It’s not a great situation either way, but we’ve seen worse.” Nira ground her teeth. “Ideally, none of this will matter, and everything will go smoothly. We’ll capture a few Union goons inside the tavern, get some intel from their ship, find out why they want to kill me all of a sudden, and get the hell out of there.”

“That sounds profoundly optimistic.” 

“Like I said.” Nira shrugged. “Hope for the best, plan for the worst. Now. I need to talk to Alakor, before we get much further. I want to talk to him alone, but I’d like you to be nearby. That’s why I came here first. I’d like to have you waiting nearby, so I can call for you, if needed.”

“Oh?” The dragon licked his muzzle, lifting his frills. “Afraid he’s going to get a little rough with you?”

“Hardly.” Nira smirked. “If he does, I’ll just kick him in the balls again.” 

Malaresh rumbled happy laugh. “I’m quite sorry I missed that.” 

“Me too, actually. But no, I want you there in case he starts getting too evasive, or I don’t feel like he’s being honest enough with me. I’m going to call him out on his desire for revenge, I think, but I want you to be there to back me up on it, if needed.” 

“Very well.” Malaresh slowly eased himself back down into the tub, water sloshing around him. Soon, only his head remained above water. The dragon settled his head against the floor near the tub, closing his eyes. “Now, if there’s nothing else, I fancy a nap while the water’s still warm.”

“Yeah,” Nira said, turning away. “You better rest up for the difficult act of eating breakfast.”

“Speaking of which, if you do see Jirril, tell him-”

“I’m not passing notes between you two like some go-between for childhood sweethearts.” Nira paused at the door, glancing back. “But I’ll expect you to be ready when I go to speak with Alakor a little later. Understood?”

The dragon opened his eyes to gleaming slits. “I will be there.”


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