Chapter Thirteen

"W ell, isn't this…nice."

"Man, what a hole. And I thought Aisling used to stay in some crappy places."

"Jim!" Aisling stopped looking around the entryway of the house and whapped the demon on its head, giving me an apologetic smile in the process. "I'm sorry, Ysolde. Jim swore it was going to be on its best behavior, because it knows what will happen to it if it's not. "

The emphasis on the last few words was not lost on Jim, who winked at me. "Soldy knows I'm just teasing. It's a great house if you like the Addams family. I especially like that tarantula over there in those cobwebs. Very atmospheric. Hey." The demon sniffed the air a couple of times. "Is that dinner I smell?"

"We are not staying for dinner," Aisling said quickly, giving Jim a stern look before preceding me into the sitting room when I gestured toward it. "We just came to…er…you know."

"Of course you're staying for dinner. Pavel's cooking, and there's plenty for everyone."

"Now, that's what I'm talking about," Jim said, plopping itself down on a couch before Aisling shoved its butt off and pointed to the floor.

"Is Baltic here?" Drake asked as he followed us into the room, trailed by his two redheaded bodyguards.

"He's at Dauva, although"—I glanced at my watch—"he should be back in the next hour or so. Dragon's blood, anyone?"

I handed out the fiery drink at the polite murmurs of assent, pouring a bit of Perrier into a bowl for Jim.

"Oooh, fancy, lemon slices," it said, slurping at the water. "Any time you want to dump me on Solders and Baltic is fine with me, Ash."

"One more, and you're out," Aisling warned the demon.

"Sheesh. Bully much?"

"We would like to extend greetings to Pavel," István said as I handed him a glass of the dragon's blood wine. "Is it allowed that we do so?"

"Of course. He's in the kitchen, but I'm sure he would welcome the opportunity to exchange greetings with you, as well." I made sure to keep my language as formal as István's, despite the urge to giggle. So far as social niceties went, dragons preferred to cling to the old ways, and that meant elite guards of one wyvern had to present their greetings to the elite guards of other wyverns in a very formalized way.

Pál and István took themselves off with a nod from Drake, who, after a somewhat scurrilous look at the battered and dismal couch that I hadn't yet had time to replace, sat down next to Aisling.

"So!" Aisling said brightly, leaning a bit into Drake as he put his arm across her shoulders. "Here we all are. Drake's like a cat on a hot tin roof, just about dancing with anticipation, so the sooner he gets started on breaking into the sepulcher, the better."

"Kincsem," Drake said sternly, shooting her an emerald-eyed glare. "I am a wyvern. You do not tell people I dance over any emotion, and certainly not anticipation."

"My apologies." She patted his leg, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Although you are an incredibly good dancer. That last dream you sent me, where you taught me to dance the sevillana, and you spun me around so hard my dress came off, and we ended up—er—yes. We'll just leave it at you're an excellent dancer."

"You have visions with Drake, too?" I asked in surprise, correcting myself when both Drake and Aisling turned startled faces to me. "That is, you have visions about your wyvern, too?"

"They're not really visions, no, not like that one you had at the sárkány , or a few months ago when you tried to stab Drake in that vision. Drake and I share an ability to have, for lack of a better term, lucid dreams. Extremely lucid dreams. So much so that—" Drake made an abbreviated gesture, causing Aisling to clear her throat. "Yes, well, we've strayed from the original point, which was that we are both very eager to undertake the job you spoke about. So, where is the sepulcher?"

"Er…" My brain, normally a pretty reliable organ, just shrugged and told me I was on my own when it came to thinking up an excuse as to why I hadn't yet found the location of the sepulcher. "That's a really good question. And the answer is that…erm…Why don't we save that discussion for after dinner?"

They exchanged glances.

"If you desire," Drake said in a smooth voice, his fingers gently stroking Aisling's shoulder in a way that had her shivering, and shooting him a heated look. "About the recompense you will be providing me for these services. I take it you have in your possession the valuable object that you indicated earlier?"

"Not in so many words," I said, thinking back to the hurried conversation I had had with Constantine a short while before. He'd assured me that he had found Kostya's lair, and getting into it, and removing the shard, would be no problem. I had been obliged to persuade him that I needed it now, rather than waiting for him to take over the sept, when it would be his to hand over to me, but after a few minutes of persuasion, he had agreed to retrieve it. "But I should before tomorrow, assuming everything goes as planned."

"Oh man, if that isn't jinxing us, I don't know what is," Jim said, flopping down on the floor, coughing loudly when a cloud of dust rose around him.

"Don't be silly. I don't believe in jinxes," Aisling said firmly. "I do, however, believe in accidents, and derailments of best laid plans, etc. So you'll be sure to tell us if something goes awry, won't you, Ysolde?"

"Of course."

"What, exactly, is this object?" Drake asked, his fingers now tangled in Aisling's hair. She kept sending him little glances that should have steamed his eyebrows.

"I think," I said slowly, "that I would like to hold off on telling you about that until I have it in hand."

"And I would prefer to know now."

I sat up a little straighter at the tone in Drake's voice. "I'm sure you would, but I am not comfortable with explaining the whys and hows of the object to you just yet."

"Not comfortable?" he asked, his green-eyed gaze sharpening on me. "What about it makes you uncomfortable?"

"That's really none of your business," I said, growing rather annoyed. While I was willing to admit he had a right to know what he was bartering his services for, he also had to know I wasn't going to try to cheat him. "I will tell you tomorrow, once I have the item in my possession."

Drake was silent for a moment, then said in a drawling voice, "You forget my consequence, Ysolde. I must insist on knowing what object you use to barter with before I risk myself and my men. You will tell me what it is now, or I will not go forward with this agreement."

"Drake Fekete," I said, deliberately using his original name in an attempt to remind him of his place, "I am well aware of your consequence, your history, and the terms of our agreement. It is you who have forgotten that you agreed to do the job based on my word alone. I have said I will describe the object tomorrow, and so I shall. Either you will honor our agreement, or you will renege on it." I rose while making an imperious gesture. "But I will waste no more time on this. Decide now."

My heart was beating like crazy as I basically bluffed Drake, part of me worried sick what I'd do if he called that bluff, and left me without a thief, but the other part, the one who had absorbed much from Baltic's dealings with other dragons, told me that there were times when arrogance had its place, and that time was now.

"Oooh," Jim said on a big breath, its expression watchful as it turned to see how Drake would respond.

Drake's eyes flashed molten green fire, his body tense, as if he was going to storm out of the room. Aisling opened her mouth to say something but evidently thought better of it, for she just put her hand on Drake's and raised her eyebrows at him.

After a moment's silence that seemed to last a thousand years, Drake gave a sharp nod. "Very well. I will wait until tomorrow. But that is as long as I will wait."

"You won't regret that decision," I assured him. "You may think I'm trying to blow smoke up your…er…but I'm not. You'll see that tomorrow—"

A sudden crash from the hallway came at the perfect moment…perfect for lessening the tension so rampant in the room, that is. On every other front, it caused me no end of worry. I fretted, as I leaped up and ran for the door, over whether a wall had caved in, or the stairway collapsed, or any of the million other forms of destruction that seemed to hang like a particularly brooding miasma over the house.

"By the rood!" I yelled, charging out to the hall. "What is going on—really, Constantine? You have to do this now? It's almost time for dinner!"

Two dragons, identical expressions of chagrin on their faces, stood before me, one covered in shiny black scales, the other in glittering silver. The silver of Constantine's chest was splattered crimson, blood from the three slashes dripping down onto the floor.

Constantine's nostrils flared. "We are conducting a challenge for the black sept, Ysolde. This is a sacred fight, one honored by all dragonkin since the First Dragon set forth the laws of the weyr, and it will not be stopped by something so mundane as a mere meal."

"You clearly haven't tasted Pavel's cooking," I told him with a glare, pointing to the floor. "And you're dripping all over the tile. I just hope you plan on cleaning that up, because it took the cleaning ladies three hours yesterday to scrub off all the muck and dirt, and I'm not having the tile stained again."

Constantine straightened his shoulders and looked down his long dragon snout. "I am wyvern! I do not clean floors! Now, stand aside so that I might beat my godson into submission and reclaim that which should have been mine in the first place."

"I grow weary of hearing you make such ridiculous claims about the black dragons," Kostya said, whipping his tail around in an annoyed manner. It caught the edge of a small occasional table, knocking it against the wall, and sending a small, ugly ceramic vase to the floor.

"Now you know how we feel," Aisling said, sotto voce. Jim snickered. Drake shot her a long-suffering look.

I transferred my glare from Constantine to the vase where it lay smashed on the tile floor. "Konstantin Fekete!" I bellowed, marching over to him.

"Uh-oh, someone's in trouble with Mom," Jim said. "Again, since the last time you did something to piss her off, she had exactly that same look on her face."

Kostya backed up a couple of steps before he obviously remembered he was a wyvern. "My apologies, Ysolde, but it is only a small vase."

"One that I particularly liked!"

"I thought you said it looked like something a donkey pooped," Brom said from the safety of the doorway to the small, damp sitting room.

"That is beside the point." I took a deep breath and couldn't keep from adding, "I really don't think a challenge is suitable for you to witness. If you're through mucking about in your lab, you can go wash your hands and face. Dinner will be ready shortly."

"Boy, I didn't think it was possible, but she out-bosses even you," Jim told Aisling.

"Quiet, demon, or I'll dump you on her for a week and see if she can't arrange for an attitude adjustment."

Jim's eyes grew large as it backed up a few steps, but it kept silent.

"Aww, Sullivan. I want to watch the challenge. Nico says it's an important part of dragon stuff, and I should know about it even if I won't ever be a wyvern."

I looked around the hall. Everyone was there, Brom (with Nico standing protectively behind him) next to Savian, who leaned against the wall with a grin on his face. Beyond them, Pavel and Holland were at the head of the hallway that led back toward the kitchen. Behind Constantine, Cyrene sat on the stairs, texting someone while chewing gum with blithe unconcern for anything that was happening. My gaze settled on Baltic as he stood to the rear of Kostya, his arms crossed, and a bored expression on his adorable face. Despite that, I could tell he was aching for a chance at Constantine. "I don't think seeing two men beat each other up is particularly vital to your well-being, even if one of those men is incorporeal some of the time."

"Please, Sullivan?" Brom came perilously close to a whine, which he knew annoyed me. I tipped my head in question to Baltic. He looked consideringly at Constantine for a few seconds, then nodded.

"All right, you can stay, but if you have nightmares about shades bleeding all over the place—not that I knew shades could do that in the first place—then I don't want to hear any complaints."

"My corporeal form is exactly the same as yours," Constantine pointed out haughtily.

Jim snickered again.

Constantine set it on fire.

Kostya apparently just noticed that his brother and Aisling were present. "What are you doing in Latvia?" he asked them.

"Housewarming," Aisling said after a moment's pregnant silence. She waved a hand at the hall. "Ysolde invited us to see the new place."

Kostya snorted his disgust.

"Will you stop setting Aisling's demon on fire," I told Constantine. "It's just rude, and besides, this house hasn't been fireproofed yet. Jim, are you all right?"

Aisling had beaten out the fire by the time I was done speaking. "It's fine, no thanks to Casper the Not-so-friendly Ghost over there."

Brom covered his mouth to stifle a giggle.

"You know, the more I think about it, the more I feel the whole idea of a challenge is stupid."

Around me, five dragons simultaneously sucked in outraged breaths. "Stupid?" Kostya asked with equal amounts of disbelief and indignation.

"Yes, it's archaic and sexist, to boot. What if I were wyvern, and you challenged me to a physical fight? I wouldn't stand a chance against a strong male."

"Which is why females should not be wyverns," Constantine said.

"Oh, you do not want to go there," Aisling said at the same time I snapped, "Get over yourself, Constantine."

Cyrene looked up from her phone and inquired, "Would you like me to fill the room with water, Ysolde? I've found nothing brings reason to pigheaded dragons like the act of nearly drowning."

Kostya wanted to argue the statement, but I intervened. "No, I think we'll forgo that, but Constantine won't find himself invited to dinner if he keeps up that sort of crap." I thought for a moment. "Do shades eat?"

"Yes, we eat! We're just like non-shades, other than we sometimes lose power and fade into the beyond until we regain enough energy to join the mortal world again."

"That's fascinating, but it doesn't negate the point that I think these challenges are idiotic. Even Baltic, who loves nothing more than a reason to fight, looks bored to tears by it."

"That is only because I'm waiting for Kostya to fail, so that I can take over," my love said, cracking his knuckles.

"I am not going to fail. You're my second only because I must have one," Kostya snarled at him, "and because the only other choice was that watery twit."

"Oh!"

I held up a hand to stop Cyrene as she leaped to her feet. "My original statement stands, and to it, I add a new rule—no more dragon form. It's too destructive."

"Aw, man," Jim started to complain.

I set its toes briefly on fire. Jim yelped.

"Oh, it's all right if you set it on fire?" Constantine asked in an arch voice.

"Yes, it is," I said, examining my fingertips. "I'm a mother. It's part of our arsenal of behavior management."

Aisling grinned.

"Baltic!" Constantine swaggered toward me (dragon form is very prone to swaggering), stopping in front of me with a peeved expression on his face. "Inform Ysolde that she cannot interfere in a challenge, and that by the terms of this challenge, we must fight body to body. That requires dragon form."

I raised an eyebrow at Baltic. He was silent for a moment, then made a short, annoyed gesture. "It pains me greatly to say the words, but about this, Constantine is correct. You may not interfere in the challenge, mate."

"I will not have this house destroyed because you boys don't want to play nice!" I said loudly, turning back to glare at Constantine.

"I really hate it when she refers to us as boys," Kostya said in an aside to Baltic. "We're older than she is, after all."

Baltic nodded. "She was always that way, though." He smiled suddenly. "Do you remember the time when she dragged you out of Dauva by your ear for swiving that milkmaid in the main hall?"

Kostya rubbed his ear and shot me a surly look. "I haven't forgotten. My ear has never been the same since."

Aisling laughed openly. I ignored them to address Constantine. "Either you beat the crap out of each other while you're in human form—and without breaking anything but each other—or you can just take it outside."

"Ysolde—" Constantine started to say, but I interrupted him with brutal disregard.

"Out!" I flung open the two front doors and made a grand gesture. "You go outside with your challenge, or you call it off."

"Are you going to allow her to speak this way to us?" Constantine asked Baltic, clearly expecting him to do something.

Baltic looked thoughtful for a few seconds, then shrugged. "She is my mate. If she does not wish for the challenge to take place in our home, then it will not. I do not desire her to be unhappy. You will conduct the challenge outside."

Constantine was obviously about to explode, but in the end, he stomped his way out the door, down the verandah, and out into the yard, grumbling the entire way. "I have never been so treated, and I have been abused by the very best! To speak that way to me , the wyvern of her own sept, is unthinkable. Were she my mate—"

"If I had been your mate, I would have been insane a long time ago," I called out after him as Kostya, with a martyred sigh, trundled after him. The others followed, Baltic bringing up the rear with a slight twitch to his lips that told me he found the situation as amusing as I did.

As I walked down the steps to the yard, faint sounds caught my attention. I paused for a moment, trying to pinpoint where the yelling was coming from, but it was too distant, almost on the edge of my awareness.

"Do you hear that?" I asked Baltic as I approached him, counting on his exceptional hearing to locate what I couldn't.

Baltic stood with the others in a loose circle around Constantine and Kostya as they pounced, tails whipping through the air, claws flashing, grunts and oaths rising upward on a reddish cloud of dust from the disturbed ground.

"Hear what?" he asked without turning toward me.

"That noise. It sounds like…" I paused and closed my eyes in order to focus my attention. "It sounds like someone is doing bodywork on a car. I can hear metallic pounding and yelling."

"I hear nothing." Baltic stepped backward as Constantine and Kostya, now fully engaged in battle, rolled toward us. He grabbed my arm to pull me back, but the second he did so, a familiar feeling washed over me.

"Oh no, not now," I said as the afternoon light shimmered, dimming into that of predawn.

"Ysolde—"

I held up my hand to stop the complaint I was sure was to follow. "Don't tell me to stop the vision, Baltic. I've told you repeatedly I can't. And besides, I don't want to. They are the only way I ever find out anything, since you refuse to tell me things I evidently need to know."

"Ooh, another vision," Cyrene said, looking around us with bright, interested eyes.

"I'm beginning to enjoy them, I have to admit," Savian told her.

"They do bring back some fun memories of times long past," she agreed. "Although Ysolde never has visions about anyone I knew."

"You're not going to get hurt, are you?" Brom asked, moving over to stand next to me. "Pavel told Nico you had dreams of when someone killed you a long time ago."

I pulled him between Baltic and me, smiling at him when Baltic put his arm around us both. "No, I'm not going to be hurt, and you don't have to worry, lovey—I would never let you see that vision. This one looks like…" I looked around us at the images of the past. "I—I don't know where this is. Baltic?"

"It's Latoka, isn't it?" Drake asked, sidestepping when his brother, still fully engaged in fighting with Constantine, was thrown backward. "Baltic, is this Staraya Latoka?"

"What's Latoka?" I asked Baltic, nudging him when he was obviously reluctant to answer.

"It was the holding of Alexei." He glared around him at the vision people as they fought in an oddly ironic mimicry of Constantine and Kostya. Only the dragons in the vision all belonged to the black sept, and they were armed with swords. "It was destroyed."

I looked at the two squat round towers that towered over us, noting the men running along the ramparts of the stone wall. It wasn't a very big fortress, nor did it look to my unknowledgeable eyes as being nearly as protective as Dauva was, but clearly this stronghold was built centuries before the latter.

"It looks fine to me now. When was it destroyed? And why are all the dragons fighting one another?"

Baltic's expression grew grim, and, much to my surprise, he took my hand and led me toward the nearest tower. I grabbed Brom with my other hand, pulling him after us. "For once, you have chosen a fitting vision. No, do not bring my son. He may stay out here with his tutor."

I caught his eye and read a warning in it. I turned back, expecting to see everyone still watching Constantine and Kostya despite the vision, but they had all fallen into place behind us. "Nico, would you mind?"

"Not at all," he said, obviously lying, but his dedication to Brom won out over his interest to see whatever event Baltic wanted to keep Brom from seeing. He held out his hand for Brom.

"Why can't I stay with you?" Brom asked.

"Because there are some things that even I, a mother who allows you to help firebomb negrets, have issues with your seeing, and this is obviously one of those things."

"But you don't know what it is," he pointed out.

"Go!" I said firmly, pinning him back with my best annoyed-mom look. He walked slowly over to Nico, muttering under his breath about no one letting him have any fun.

"Jim will stay with you, won't you, Jim?" Aisling said, nudging her demon.

Its eyes grew big with an obvious plea in them.

"You can talk, but only because I want you to keep Brom and Nico entertained."

"Seriously, Ash, you've got to stop taking mean lessons from Soldy." Jim walked just as slowly as Nico, casting plaintive looks over its shoulder as we all moved toward the tower. "We never get to see any of the really good stuff."

"What about them?" Cyrene asked, pointing to where Constantine was in the process of head butting Kostya, while the latter was trying desperately to pull Constantine's legs out from under him.

"They can stay where they are. I'd much rather have them keep each other busy than have to cope with more attitude from either of them," I said, squeezing Baltic's hand.

"It's too bad Maura isn't here," Savian said as we entered the tower. "She really enjoyed the last vision."

I expected there would be more dragons fighting inside the tower, but it was empty. Or so I thought at first. Across the vast space was another door, obviously leading to an antechamber. Before it, two men stood, both in human form, with one bearing chain mail armor, and a huge sword.

"You cannot do this," the armor-bearing Constantine said, the anger in his voice audible even across the centuries. "Allowing him to return to the sept will be the last straw. Chuan Ren will not tolerate that insult to pass. She will bring war to the black dragons, and the blame for that will lie directly at your feet."

"The First Dragon was wrong to force me to remove Baltic from the sept," Alexei said, waving a weary hand at Constantine. "I am making peace with my own conscience."

"Who's that with Constantine?" I heard Aisling whisper to Drake. He murmured an explanation. Aisling sounded astonished when she asked, "Baltic's grandfather kicked him out of his own sept?"

"Does Alexei know that all the black dragons are fighting one another outside?" I asked Baltic, my fingers tightening around his in acknowledgment of how hard I knew it was for him to watch this.

"I don't think he did. Constantine never expected that Alexei would go against the First Dragon's command, and he struck out in fear and anger."

"Those guys fighting are with Constantine?" Aisling asked. "The black dragons, I mean—wait, they're all black dragons at this point, aren't they? This is so confusing. But some of those fighting are the same dragons who followed Constantine to the silver sept?"

"I think so," I answered, watching Baltic's face. His eyes were filled with anger, his dragon fire running very hot within him as he watched the scene in front of us.

"You can't do that!" Constantine yelled, his voice filled with frustration as he slammed his fist into the wall. "I am your heir! You named me as heir."

"Baltic is heir now. You lost the challenge to him before he was removed from the sept," Alexei said, holding up a hand in an obviously placatory gesture. "Do not lash me with your ire, Constantine. I am aware of your feelings, but I must think about what's best for the sept, and the future of the black dragons lies with Baltic."

Constantine struck Alexei's hand aside. "Because you wanted him for your heir all along, did you not? You named me as heir while he was young and unlearned, but all along you intended for him to take the sept when you could no longer hold it. You lied to me! You took my oath and swore the sept would be mine; yet you never intended for me to have it!" Constantine stormed around Alexei, his free hand gesturing wildly.

I watched his other hand, the one holding the sword, knowing in my heart that Baltic had been right, and that Constantine was responsible for the death of Alexei. Was this the moment when he died? It must be—there would be few other reasons but murder that would prompt Baltic to send Brom away.

"I will not have it!" Constantine screamed.

Alexei frowned. "Recall yourself, Constantine. You allow your anger to overrule your mind, and forget who and what you are, and what you owe to me. You will not—"

"No! It is you who will not." Constantine took a deep breath. "You will not destroy me in this fashion. You will not bring Baltic back into the sept."

"It is already done," Alexei said, his shoulders slumping a little. "I have accepted his fealty and granted him status within the sept once again. There is nothing you can do to change what fate has already written."

Constantine was working himself up into a frenzy, screaming curses at his wyvern.

Baltic's grip on my fingers turned painful as without warning, Constantine lunged forward. I spun around at the move, but not before I saw the sword flash and blood spray out in an arc.

"Oh my god!" Aisling gasped in a choked voice.

Baltic pulled me against his chest, his hands hard on my arms. I clung to him and bit back a sob, the emotions of the scene too much for me.

"I will never suffer Baltic as wyvern! This sept will be mine, or I will see it destroyed!"

"He really was mad, wasn't he?" I asked Baltic, wiping my eyes on his shirt before looking up at him. "You weren't exaggerating when you told me he wanted to see you and the sept destroyed."

"I wasn't exaggerating," he said, his muscles tight as Constantine stormed through the middle of us, blood dripping from his sword, a fanatical light in his eyes.

"But he seems so normal now. Well, somewhat normal," Aisling said, shuddering as she looked away.

"His madness was always cold by nature rather than hot," Baltic said, his eyes still on the figure of his dead grandfather. "He had sane moments, but it was the madness that drove him on and kept him attacking the black dragons when others would have ceased."

"And now?" I touched Baltic's cheek, drawing his attention away from tragic memories. "Is he being coldly mad now?"

"No. I thought at first he was, but I see now that the act of being raised as a shade has changed him, leached the madness out of him."

Behind us, present-day Constantine yelled, "You call me a douche canoe? I am not the douche canoe—you are. No, you are more than that—you are a douche speedboat!"

" Most of the madness," Baltic qualified.

Savian laughed, then immediately looked guilty. "Sorry. Didn't mean to make light of a somber occasion."

"It matters not," Baltic said briskly, turning with me and striding out of the tower. "That event was long in the past. Constantine paid the price for his actions of that day."

"By sacrificing himself for me when I was killed?" I asked, trotting after him.

"That was later. He suffered most when I threw him and his followers out of the sept."

I stopped so quickly that Aisling, directly behind me, bumped into me, immediately murmuring an apology. "You threw them out? No, that's not right. Gabriel told me that the silver dragons left the black sept."

"Gabriel was not there. I was." Baltic stopped, saw the look on my face, and sighed one of his highly perfected martyred sighs. "I can tell by your expression that you are not going to let this rest in the past, where it should remain."

"Damned straight, I'm not." I approached him, searching his face for signs of distress, but he had once again mastered his emotions. "Are you sure you kicked them out? Because everyone else seems to think that Constantine left the sept because he didn't want to be a part of it while you were wyvern."

"That's what Drake told me," Aisling said, looking to Drake for confirmation.

He shrugged. "It is what Constantine told us when the silver dragons joined the weyr."

"Now, just wait a second," I said, stopping Baltic when he would have continued. Dimly, the noises of Constantine and Kostya yelling at each other were still audible, letting us know they were still engaged in their battle. I wanted badly to ask him about whether Pavel was right in hinting that Constantine had taken Baltic's talisman, but I didn't feel right mentioning it in front of Drake. Instead, I went back to the main point of my confusion. "From what I've gathered, all along Constantine has made a big deal about the silver dragons forming because they didn't want to stay in the sept while you were running it into the ground." I made air quotes about the last few words. "Which is stupid, because you did no such thing, but that's always been Constantine's big thing…they left to form their own sept."

"They formed a sept, but only after I removed Constantine and the dragons who attacked the rest of our sept." Baltic's eyes were unreadable. "You have some memories of Constantine. Do you expect that he would have made it known to all that he had been made ouroboros?"

"No," I said after some thought. "He always did have a bit of a sensitive ego."

"Just playing devil's advocate, I'd like to point out that no one knew Baltic was kicked out of the black dragons, too. At least I don't think anyone knew. Sweetie?"

"No," Drake said, his face as placid as ever. "That fact was not known to me until just a few minutes ago."

Baltic shrugged. "I did not hide it, the way Constantine has hidden the truth. It simply did not matter, since Alexei reinstated me as his heir."

"I don't know about anyone else, but I find it very interesting that Constantine got the boot," I said, stumbling after Baltic when he took my hand and returned through the complex tapestry of the past to the present day.

The battle was over by the time the last few tendrils of the vision had faded away into distant memory, at which point, Kostya soundly beat Constantine…or he would have if Constantine hadn't suddenly run out of energy.

"No!" the spectral voice of Constantine howled, echoing through the half-dead trees as he faded from our view. "Not now! I cannot lose power right when—"

Kostya picked himself up from the ground, where he'd been thrown by Constantine, breathing heavily as he wiped blood from his eyes and shifted back into human form. "What…happened?" he panted, looking around for his missing challenger.

Baltic swore profoundly. "I knew he would do that before Kostya failed and I could take over."

"Will you stop saying I'm going to fail!" Kostya snapped, wiping the blood flowing from his nose.

"I'm sorry that you can't vent your animosity a bit by beating him up, but I'm not sorry that you can't fight," I told Baltic, somewhat confusedly.

"I did not fail!"

"You will cease being concerned that I will be hurt. Unlike you, I have not died repeatedly," Baltic said with lofty disregard.

"I would not have failed, either, which you would see for yourself if Constantine had not disappeared!"

"Neither death was my fault, I'd like to point out," I said with much righteousness. "It's not like I go around getting killed just for the fun of it."

"I am wyvern! I do not fail!" Kostya weaved as he staggered toward us, suddenly sitting down very hard.

I sighed and looked over to him. "I suppose I'm going to have to call the healer again."

"I am not hurt. I don't need a healer," Kostya said, and promptly fell over onto his side as he moaned softly to himself.

"Take him into the sitting room," I said with a dispassionate eye as Drake, looking somewhat annoyed, scooped up his brother, tossed him over his shoulder, and started for the house, Aisling and Jim trailing behind.