Linsha sucked in her breath. It did sting! Yet the pain was not enough to distract her from her chain of thought. She was about to repeat her question when Afec finally answered her with innate discretion.

“It can be done if the Emperor wishes it. However, Malawaitha is a beautiful, headstrong, willful, ambitious woman with the desires of her father’s family. Unfortunately she has her mother’s blood and intelligence.” When Linsha looked blank, the old servant gave a slight shrug and went on. “As you might have noticed, the Tarmaks set great store by rank and position, but their ideas of rank are not always based on birth or even bloodlines. Often it is earned. The warlord Lanther is a good example. He is not a Tarmak, but his skills impressed them so much that he was adopted by the Emperor’s brother and became a high ranking leader in the military.”

“So what does this have to do with Malawaitha?” Linsha asked. “Isn’t she the daughter of the Emperor?”

“Yes, and that grants her some rights and privileges of rank. But her mother was a slave. Unless Malawaitha marries a high-ranking leader or official in the court, she will forever remain a second-rank female in the Akeelawasee.”

Linsha couldn’t think of many things that would be worse. The second-ranked females, she’d noticed, rarely left the grounds of the women’s compound and were often given the most mundane work such as spinning, simple weaving, cleaning equipment, and taking turns caring for the numerous offspring that lived in another part of the palace. She could little blame the energetic, ambitious Malawaitha for wanting something better.

“So she has set her aim on Lanther.”

Afec nodded while he cleaned the cut on her knee. “Some years ago. She saw him at court functions and at the games, and she tried to convince her father to let her marry the human. Even though he was not of the People, he was of higher rank and could bring her status up. She convinced the Emperor to arrange a betrothal. Then Lanther and the Akkad-Ur planned the attack on your land. Lanther left our city and was gone for almost three years. Now that he is back, Malawaitha plans to continue where she left off.”

“But I am in the way.”

Afec glanced at her keenly from under his thick brows. “Malawaitha certainly thinks so. If I may ask, Lady, why are you here? I do not believe it is to enjoy our customs. Are you wishing to marry the warlord?”

Linsha laughed at the irony of the whole thing. She couldn’t help it.

Afec, startled by the bitter fierceness in her eyes, set down the bloody cloth and studied her. His wrinkled face grew thoughtful. “You do not wish this?” he said curiously.

“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “I do not wish it. But it is a matter of honor and a clutch of dragon eggs.”

To her surprise, the Damjatt brightened with interest. “Dragon eggs. Did you bring them with you? They have great medicinal power. I would be pleased to see an egg in its entirety.”

A suspicion sounded in Linsha’s mind. Where had he seen dragon eggs, and what did he mean by “its entirety”?

“How do you know about dragon eggs?” she asked, careful to keep her voice mild and unemotional. “Was the Dark Knight’s dragon a female?”

“No, no. Methanfire was a male. There were eggs from other dragons.”

“What other dragons?” This time Linsha could not contain her interest or her rising intensity. “Are there dragons on this island? What did you do to the eggs?”

The quickening of interest died in Afec’s demeanor as quickly as it came. Something must have come into his mind, for he hastily retreated behind his mask of reticence and bowed low, his hands clasped in front of him. “It was a long time ago, Lady. When the previous healer was teaching me the craft. She had boxes of dragon scales and pieces of shells that she used in her potions and medicines. They have not been renewed in a long while.”

“So you have had no other dragon on this island than Methanfire?”

“None that I have seen,” he muttered and bent to his task to avoid any more questions.

Linsha stifled her irritation. She had a feeling he was not telling her the whole truth, but she wasn’t sure what the whole truth could be. He seemed to know something he did not want to share, but if there was something the old Damjatt was hiding, it would have to be wheedled out of him later when he had forgotten this conversation.

“Lady, the cut is deep and will be sore for a few days. But it will heal.” He dabbed a creamy unguent on the scrape and wiped his hands on a clean cloth. “If you have a problem with it, please let me know.”

Linsha nodded and slipped off the table. She had come to know this Damjatt better the past two weeks. In spite of her intense loathing of this place, she had grown to like the old servant. He had a quiet dignity that appealed to her and an indefinable inner strength that gleamed behind the bowing head and clasped hands of his slave’s status. He was efficient, solicitous without being fawning, and a well of useful information-at least information he felt she should know. Apparently dragons were a subject he didn’t want to discuss. Callista’s words came to mind, and Linsha wondered briefly if there was any truth to the rumors from the servants quarters that Afec was a prophet.

She followed him back across the cloister and entered the dining hall. At a table on the far side of room, she saw Malawaitha lounging amidst a group of the younger females. Probably they were her friends and siblings, Linsha thought. They seemed pleased to see her.

Ignoring Malawaitha’s presence, Linsha found an empty table and sat down. The Tarmaks usually sat on the floor and ate together at a low table spread with bowls of food and cups of beverages. The women did not drink as much wine or ale as the men, but they partook of fruit juices, water, and a powerful concoction of leaves, bark, and the gods knew what else called tazeer. According to Afec, it was a recipe handed down for generations that was supposed to help the body, strengthen the mind, and increase fertility. Linsha thought it tasted like swill and yearned for a cool cup of mead, a mug of her grandfather’s spring ale, or even a scorching cup of kefre.

As soon as she was seated, Callista brought a bowl of hot cereal that contained some sort of grain Linsha didn’t recognize. Steam rose from the gelatinous mass in the bowl, and a smell similar to slightly moldy wheat wafted over the table.

Linsha stifled a groan: Didn’t these people break their fast with anything else? She didn’t mind hot cereal once in a while when she could have it with cream and honey. But not like this, freshly boiled and unflavored. And not every day!

“Don’t they serve meat around here?” she grumbled.

“Where are the sausages? The steaks? The venison and mutton? The hams and pickled pigs feet?”

Afec blanched. “Pigs feet? You truly eat such things?”

“All right, I am jesting about the trotters. I never liked them either. But meat! Why don’t they serve meat here? Even our evening meal is nothing hut soup, soup, flatbread, and soup. This is worse than being under siege. They overcook the vegetables, the fruit is soft and overly ripe, and this stuff should be fed to horses.” She shoved the bowl away. She knew she was being childish, but she didn’t want to stop. She was hungry, Chaos blast it, and not for this slop. “Soups, stews, tubers, boiled grain, and not a scrap of meat in sight.”

“Don’t forget the fish,” Callista added.

“You are fed well,” Afec protested at the same time.

Linsha threw up her hands. “Fish! I am sick of fish. That’s all we see are bits of fish.” Her voice was growing louder, and she made no effort to lower it. “And what about chickens? Or eggs? Don’t you ever eat chickens?”

Afec stood motionless by her side, hoping she would not attract the attention of the Empress. “We do not have enough chickens. They were brought from your country and are considered a great delicacy.”