Warsinger James Baldwin (read this if TXT) 📖

than dirt, with the steely eyes and clenched-jaw underbite that made me salute her like a drill instructor on reflex.

“Tuun!” she shrilled. “Report! What happened?”

“We got caught in the storm, ma'am!” I replied - before remembering she wasn't actually my D.I. “I think Karalti's got a couple of broken ribs.”

“You think or you know?” The woman's eyes narrowed to dark slits.

“Think, ma'am. The world’s short on dragon doctors, and this is a first for me.”

“True enough.” Masha pursed her wrinkled lips as she palpitated Karalti's chest and side. The dragon winced as she lifted her left wing, turning her muzzle toward me for comfort. I rubbed her snout, watching as the healer ran into the same problem I had - her sheer size. The diminutive woman grunted as she tried to find the injury, and was nearly knocked over when she shoved a tender spot and Karalti's wing twitched.

“You're right. Broken ribs, and one look at those big uneven pupils of yours tells me that you have a concussion, too,” Masha said briskly. “No flying for you tonight, missy. “

Karalti groaned, and laid her chin down on the wet ground.

“Will a Bonefuse potion fix her ribs?” I asked.

“Pooos-sibly…” Masha drawled. She rubbed her chin, scowling up at Karalti's shoulder. “But it's hard to say. I've never treated a dragon before. Given the ingredients are so universal, I'd expect that it would help her, provided she had an appropriately-sized dose. Bonefuse is approximately one dram of potion per pound of bodyweight, and she weighs...?”

“Approximately two-point-seven-five tons on the ground.”

“On the ground? Hmm.” Masha looked up at the sky as she performed the mental calculation. “So she needs about five and a half gallons of Bonefuse, which iiiiisss… a lot of mana, Tuun. A lot of mana. The average potion vial is a mere five ounces.”

“I don't care how much it costs. I'll pay for it.” But with a sinking heart, I knew it was going to cut into the gold we needed for Myszno. “What do I owe you?”

“It is not the cost so much as the availability. We need about a gallon of liquid mana or powered greencrystal,” the healer replied. “It will take time to source it, and will cost about a hundred olbia.”

A hundred olbia was a lot, and it was money that took food from the mouths of my citizens in Karhad. But one look at Karalti, shivering and panting on the ground, and my mind was made up. If we worked hard, we could earn it back from quests. “Done. Are you able to do that? We have to go meet with Ignas at the Orlihatz.”

“Of course. I would not leave this holy creature to suffer such.” Masha bowed to me, and bustled off back toward the tunnel that led to the castle. “And while I’m down there, take a bath! I don’t know what you were doing before you crashed, but you both smell like a pigpen!”

Chapter 12

The Orlihatz, Vlachia’s grand parliament house, was built at the terminus of the river that ran all the way from the glaciers of the north through the volcanic bastion of Vulkan Keep, down a steep gorge that separated the castle road from the city, and then through the city itself. The water descended under the grand mosaic that ringed Andrássy Square, and then spewed out from underneath the Orlihatz through short, wide waterfalls that raged down into a network of canals. They wound through all but three of the city’s eleven fortified districts, sometimes disappearing underground to re-emerge in other parts of the city. The canals were fresh and clean and scenic in the better parts of town, polluted and sluggish in the International District and the Tanner’s District: the former a slum where the Meewfolk of Taltos lived in squalor, the latter a clean but ghettoized industrial area occupied by the city’s Mercurions. From the air, it was obvious that the city planners had carefully considered the position and symbolism of Vlachia’s parliament. It was, quite literally, the beating heart of Taltos.

The Volod and his garrison lived in Vulkan Keep, but the Orlihatz was where hundreds of administrators toiled on the affairs of the realm. It even had its own small skyport. The port was host to a flotilla of small to medium-sized airships, their idling engines blasting the river water to either side of the docks. To my delight, I recognized one of the ships: it was the Hóleány, the royal cruiser that had first brought me to Vlachia.

“God, look at us. We look like a couple of derros.” Suri strode up the stairs to the grand entryway, clanking on every step. “Are they even gonna let us in?”

“Who knows? Maybe we can ask for some nicer clothes.” I jogged up the stairs, half my attention still on Karalti. Even though she was five miles away, I could feel her pain like a deep, throbbing ache in my own chest. “You have some nice clothing though, don't you? In your Inventory?”

She gave me a side-long look. “I lost it all when I died, remember? Weapons, armor, dresses, pajamas, the lot.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry. What’s a derro?”

“A bum. You know, someone that looks like they shouldn’t be let into the Orlihatz.”

She wasn’t far off the mark. When the snooty little butler waiting in front of the closed doors to the Public Chamber saw us, his mouth pulled back at the corners with disapproval.

“Hector. Dragozin Hector, uhh, Voivode of Myszno. Do you have any clothes we could wear?” I gasped.

He wrinkled his nose. “Mm... yes, 'Your Grace'. We can fit you with something, I'm sure. Come with me.”

“Thanks.” I hurried after him as he started sedately off down the gold-gilt corridor. “Can we pick up the pace? I'm already late for the Volod's session-”

“Do not worry yourself, my lord. There is a reception before the crown presents the report from Ilia. You are not the last to arrive - we are still waiting on Revala.”

“Who's Revala?” I asked,