“You can teleport them?”

  Kaln was a veteran of countless verbal joshing sessions with fellow scribes, casual acquaintances and random passersby at various pubs, and all the way back to other orphans at the dorms in his childhood; he had learned long since the best way to handle things like this.

  “Not only that,” he answered Zhiiji’s question and grin with a rueful one of his own, “it’s far more versatile than teleporting myself. With me, I’m very limited in where I can go; it has to be in relationship to a dragon. But moving a dragon? Easy peasy, I can pretty much just put them anywhere. It’s as easy as thinking about it.”

  “So, wait,” said Isabet, squinting. “That means you…”

  “Could’ve ended that entire debacle instantly if I hadn’t been panicking, yes.”

  Zhiiji howled with laughter, which impressively didn’t seem to impede her in tossing the sizzling discs of cactopus cuts she was sauteeing over their campfire.

  Kaln allowed himself a chuckle which he didn’t have to force. That was the trick—when you’d done something genuinely stupid and your friends were going to take the piss one way or another, the options were to get all upset about it or join in the fun. He’d figured out early in life which way he preferred.

  “You vacillate between startling competence and equally surprising ineptitude so abruptly that I struggle to form a comprehensive impression,” Vanimax informed him.

  “Yeah, maybe that’s why we get along,” Kaln rejoined easily. “We do have a few things in common, you and I.”

  Vanimax narrowed his eyes at him, while Vadaralshi of course joined Zhiiji in gales of laughter. Hers was louder; both dragons had chosen to remain in their larger forms, coiled around the fire and the three humanoids in a posture that might have seemed defensive, were there the slightest chance of anyone or anything even considering attacking a pair of dragons and whoever they happened to be with.

  “Order up!” Zhiiji said, still grinning and turning away from the fire, pan in hand. “Who wants seconds?”

  “I won’t turn down the smallest one,” said Isabet.

  “Second smallest, then,” Kaln added.

  “Hey, now, no need to be shy,” Zhiiji said cheerily as she skillfully flipped discs of cactopus flesh onto their outstretched plates. “We’ve got scads of the stuff.”

  “We know, Zhiiji,” said Naaren. “Everybody knows how much we have. We all just spent an hour funneling it all one tentacle at a time into Kaln’s bag of holding.”

  “I don’t tell you how to be sullen and detached, don’t tell me how to serve food. Nobody walks away from Zhiiji’s table hungry!”

  Isabet frowned at that remark, but Naaren only shook his head.

  “You guys sure we can’t tempt you?” Kaln asked the dragons. “I know you’re probably tired of the taste, but this stuff is amazing cooked and seasoned.”

  Vanimax snorted and turned to stare out at the horizon. He was once again wearing his flower garlands. “No point in this form, and I don’t feel like changing. No doubt the little hairball will insist on making more when we deliver all this to Riincroft. I’ll try some then.”

  “Same,” Vadaralshi added. “You called it, Pants, I’m all set for cactopus in my mouth for the time being.”

  “Well, I hate for you to miss out, but if that’s what you want.”

  “It really is good,” said Isabet. “I’ve never had anything remotely like this. It’s like…like… It’s like if steak was a citrus fruit, somehow.”

  “Hmm…” Zhiiji flipped the last slice of cooked cactopus onto her own plate, taking a seat beside Kaln. “Not how I’d have described it, but…yeah, I see what you mean. That’s pretty apt, though I think the texture is more like melon than citrus.”

  “So we’ve finally found a vegetarian steak?” Kaln said, grinning. “I’m sure there are people who’d be thrilled by that. Who knew we just had to let a cactopus get obscenely large to achieve it?”

  “Ugh.” Zhiiji curled her lip, baring prominent canines, and jabbed a forkful of cactopus steak at him accusingly. “Now you hear this, fancy pants: vegetarian recipes made by and for people who just like vegetables are some of the greatest food you’ll ever eat. That crisp crunch, the flavors, the textures, nothing beats some nice fresh veggies! If veggies are what you want. If somebody ever tries to feed you a vegetarian substitute for a meat dish, then you punch them in the throat and you run. You’d be better off gnawing on your own piss-christened toes than trying to choke down that slop.”

  Vanimax made a strangled noise and hunched his neck, then resumed staring at the horizon and pretending he was far too dignified to have laughed.

  “You are filled with surprising wisdom, Zhiiji,” Vadaralshi said solemnly.

  “What’s surprising?” the cook demanded. “I’ve been places, I’ve done stuff. Not having learned some useful things would just mean I was too stupid to still be alive. And yet, here I am. My wisdom is tautologically self-evident.”

  “Well, I guess we’ll see how satisfied Hii-Amat is with your wisdom when we reach the shrine tomorrow,” Naaren said easily. “You are along on this pilgrimage as a guide and sponsor. Or did you forget?”

  “A person can do more than one thing at a time,” Zhiiji retorted, brandishing her fork at him. “A Hiiri of all people had better. We are not such a complex or resource-rich culture that we can have everybody super-specialized. Nobody understands that better than Hii-Amat.”

  “It does sound like she’s a pragmatist, as gods go,” Isabet offered.

  “And kind-natured,” Kaln murmured. The others looked curiously at him, but he was just gazing into the fire, trying to recall the ineffable sensations during his first ascension. Only the emotional memories remained; the actual experience wasn’t something he could parse with a mortal brain. And evidently, he still had one of those.

  “Tomorrow, then,” Isabet mused. “It was a fairly short journey…”

  “Would’ve been shorter without this detour,” said Naaren, then smiled and held up a hand as Zhiiji started to bristle. “Not that it wasn’t worth it. But yes—Hii-Amat has several shrines in this desert, and we’re going to the one closest to Riincroft. Some rites specifically call for as long and challenging a journey as can be made, but this is the earliest stage of induction into Hiiri adulthood for both of you. It’s not meant to be arduous, merely to be taken seriously.”

  “So, no teleporting, I guess,” said Vadaralshi, grinning down at Kaln. “I still can’t get over that. When did you even try this out? Which consort was it? I could maybe see Emeralaphine being intellectually interested enough to play along…”

  “Actually, it was Pheneraxa.”

  She lowered her head to the ground to give him an affronted glare. “And you didn’t let me watch? Pants! How could you?”

  Kaln smiled up at her. “You’re right, how thoughtless of me. Of course you want your own demonstration, it’s only fair.”

  Vadaralshi’s joking expression suddenly flattened. “Wait—”

  And then she vanished.

  Vanimax straightened up, raising his neck to look around. “Um. Should…?”

  “She’s fine,” Kaln said easily. “She’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “I’m really curious what else she expected to happen,” Zhiiji chuckled.

  Reaching out with his mind, Kaln could still sense her—barely. She was right out at what he suspected would be the limit of his normal range. In fact, he would probably not be able to detect her at that distance unless he already knew there was a dragon exactly there. Even so, he couldn’t sense more than her existence, unlike…

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Suddenly, it happened again. That sensation—the glowing, expanding, ineffable but subtly intense pressure that was his nascent divinity burgeoning a step further. Just like that, Kaln’s reach and perception sharpened, and he could discern Vadaralshi in all her detail, her mingled annoyance and appreciation of a really good joke, her appreciation of the view she was enjoying, her equal difficulty in navigating the air currents all the way up there and enjoyment of the challenge.

  Fascinating. Every time before, it had strongly felt to Kaln like exerting his divinity under some new duress had expanded its nature, codifying further exactly what kind of god he was on the road to becoming. This, though…this was only a slight boost to the power of an ability he already had, in response to straining against his boundaries. Which meant…

  It could be trained, like a muscle. Well, Tiavathyris would be delighted to learn that. And he had better make sure he was resigned to never getting a day off from training before he told her.

  “I wonder what dragon parenting is like,” Naaren said suddenly. Everyone turned to stare at him in surprise; he was just gazing into the crackling flames. “These two are so…amiable. I’m not sure what I would have expected, but it was not for them to be sociable and good-natured.”

  “One more’n the other, eh?” Zhiiji said, grinning up at Vanimax, who sneered and turned his head away. Kaln wasn’t sure how she kept getting away with that, but for whatever reason, Vanimax had seemingly decided to tolerate sass from this one mortal in particular.

  “I’m not one to criticize a fellow for not being warm and outgoing,” Naaren replied mildly, glancing up at Vanimax.

  “Yeah, I’ll say,” Zhiiji snorted. “Oh, stop glaring at me, Isabet. Naaren’s a swell guy, one of the best I know. I wouldn’t tease him if we didn’t get along. Nor would he tolerate it, for that matter.”

  “Our people have a certain ideal of masculinity,” Naaren explained to Kaln, while soothingly patting Isabet’s arm. “One I have never been able to meet. My brother does so seemingly without effort.”

  “Maanet has it down, all right,” Zhiiji agreed. “Flirty and sassy, yet nurturing. What’s funny is in the Nourdells, and in fact most human cultures I’ve passed through, Naaren here is far more the picture of a man’s man. I keep telling you,” she added to Naaren, wagging her fork at him, “you oughta visit the Dells sometime. You’re cute and fluffy, and all stoic and hardass. You would pull so much human tail, I’m telling you.”

  Isabet choked on a bite of cactopus.

  “That’s not on my list of priorities,” said Naaren, slapping her back. “If you found yourself while traveling elsewhere, Zhiiji, that’s wonderful for you. I love my people and my culture, our land and the way we live upon it. Being a priest is my calling, the only thing that makes me feel like myself. I am accepted, eccentricities and all. If I don’t fit in as smoothly, or easily achieve as much admiration as my brother…” He shrugged, smiling faintly. “Well, what in life is perfect? Life is still good. It would be less so without its trials, I think.”

  The rush of displaced air was becoming increasingly audible from above them.

  “Ah, speaking of trials,” Kaln said, tilting his head back to look.

  Vadaralshi plummeted straight down, banking into a wide loop at the last minute to swoop around them, and still landed hard enough on the ground nearby to kick up dust, which prompted Zhiiji to yell imprecations and shield her food.

  “I shoulda landed right on your ass at full speed!” Vadaralshi bellowed, thrusting her long neck over the fire to stick her nose right into Kaln’s face.

  He grinned and patted her scales. “Yeah, yeah. You had fun, though.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. And a second later, reluctantly grinned. “Okay, sure. The view is really something and it’s not easy for me to get that high under my own power. But also, it’s cold up there! And there’s other junk to worry about. Pants, if you gave me space radiation I’m telling my mom on you.”

  “You were well inside the arcanosphere,” Kaln said. “You’re fine. Come sit by the fire and relax, Ralshi. Getting to hang out with friends while camping is one of life’s pleasures that you haven’t experienced enough. And it sounds like we’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

  “And that is where the matter lies,” Princess Nashma said. “The only further detail is that Rashman Masour asked to be returned to his posting at the Embassy in Rhivkabat. I authorized him to be chain-teleported by the portal mages attached to our embassies. I will pay for the additional expenses myself, and go to Rhivkabat to interview him should we require his additional testimony.”

  “What was the urgency?” her sister Ishira asked.

  “Masour had not expected to be away from his assigned posting for more than three days. The arrangements he made to provide for his two cats would not last much longer than that.”

  Dashar slumped back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling in exasperation. “Really, Nashma? His cats?”

  “A valued servant of the Sovereignty was placed in an unexpected position of discomfiture due to his faithful execution of duty,” she replied, her mild tone and upright bearing a deliberate contrast to his. “Compassion and the recognition of diligent service are cornerstones of our policy.”

  “They’re cats! The most self-reliant of creatures. They can easily—”

  “They are strictly indoor animals, thus requiring care. Apparently Rhivkabat has strict ordinances governing the keeping of pets.”

  “You acted well, Nashma,” Sovereign Savasmittar said before her brother could retort again. “I understand the need for swift action, but that request would have been obliged in any case. I will see that the treasury compensates you for the expenditure; have it recorded as a duly approved request. Enchanter Masour should not be further importuned because of this.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “This matter has grown more prickly,” Abenat said pointedly, drumming her claws upon the tabletop. “With respect, Papa, I know how much you admire Izayaroa, but for the sake of Shamissar I would suggest staying out of this. If she wants your help, she’ll ask for it.”

  “You are partially correct,” Savasmittar agreed, inclining his head toward her. “And indeed, after this incident it has become prudent to scale back operations. There will be no more incursions into Dragonvale. However, the character of the matter has also changed. That, my children, is why I have asked all of you to join me for this discussion, and not any of my ministers or advisors, or even your mothers. This has become a concern for dragons.”

  All of them paused, several frowning; Nashma nodded and Dashar slumped down in his chair again, grimacing. There was indeed no one else present, only the Sovereign himself, in his smaller form, seated around a table with his seven adult dragonborn offspring, in a secure meeting chamber deep within the royal residence in Shamissar’s capitol complex.

  “How so?” Misharat asked finally. “I assume you have more to reveal, Father. Otherwise I have simply failed to connect the dots.”

  “There is a bit more, yes,” he said, smiling at her. “Our inquiries have borne fruit. The portal mage who brought our guests has been identified as Shadrach Meshabedan, a prodigy who was born and trained in Rhivaak. He was, in fact, the last apprentice of Archmage il-Faiza Namerek, and is famed for being a once-in-a-century talent, and a thoroughly disagreeable person—misanthropic and totally lacking social graces. Meshabedan was offered high positions in both Rhivaak and several other nations upon his master’s passing, but instead chose to continue Namerek’s research alone, toward which goal he constructed a wizard’s tower in the Evervales—or rather, the mountains surrounding them. He placed it perilously close to the lair of Atraximos the Dread, who for reasons unknown chose not to take exception to this, at least not publicly. At the time it was widely assumed that the mage had done so purely to discourage intrusions upon his privacy. Recent events have raised other possibilities, however.”

  Several of them nodded.

  “We have conclusively identified the young woman who visited us with Pheneraxa’s party,” he continued, “as Perseverance de Clairmont, second princess of a small Vale state called Boisverd—the closest nation to Dragonvale. She was recently abducted in a very public fashion by a dragon who was subsequently identified by the local adventurer guilds as Vanimax, the son of Atraximos and Izayaroa. Upon analyzing the complete reports of all agents who shadowed the group during their visit, the Underminister for Observation of Internal Affairs has concluded, with confidence but not certainty, that she is not being held against her will.”

  “Oh, that raises concerning possibilities,” Ishira murmured.

  “Was there more, Father?” Nashma asked.

  “Only an explanation for the absence of further explanations,” he said ruefully. “Kaln and Zelekhir are both relatively common Rhiva names. We have found no records of a godling being active in that part of the world recently, or of an apotheosis being observed, nor any sign of a person of significance named Kaln Zelekhir. It’s likely he was a common enough fellow before stumbling into whatever enabled his ascension. That does mean there is likely information on him available; Rhivaak keeps meticulous public records, and the nature of its bureaucracy means every citizen will have had interactions with the state that leave a paper trail. Further, most of these are publicly accessible. The main strategy of Rhivaak’s domestic counter-intelligence is thus to leave information available but swamped in an ocean of other information. Anyone can in theory find it, but not without the active aid of the royal scribes of the Archives.”

  “Ah,” Nasham said, nodding. “Thus, Izayaroa learns exactly who is looking up what in her domain.”

  “And given recent events,” Misharat added, “it is probably safest if she doesn’t find us sniffing around after this Zelekhir fellow. Or anything else of hers.”

  “Precisely,” their father agreed. “Our people relied on other sources of information, and fortunately, individuals such as Meshabedan and de Clairmont leave a public impression that doesn’t depend on accessing government records. Zelekhir appears not to have been so interesting a person until very recently.”

  “Okay, I’m not too proud to admit I’m still lost,” said Dashar. “What makes this dragon business? As opposed to just the business of other dragons and thus wisest to stay the hells out of?”

  “I get it,” Nashma said quietly. “What’s interesting to us about these three is what makes them distinctive. Princess, prodigy portal mage, godling. It’s what they have in common that would be significant to Atraximos and his get. They’re all mortal—and specifically, human.”

  Ishira drew in a sharp break. “Oh, gods. Atraximos is no more.”

  “He hasn’t been seen in public in a few weeks, but that’s hardly conclusive,” Abenat objected. “Most dragons are more fond of napping than Papa.”

  “No, she’s right,” Dashar said, straightening up and frowning. “Atraximos despises mortals. And we’ve confirmed the involvement of one of his consorts and two offspring, which implies one other consort at least. His family are faffing around with mortals in an organized way, which he would never tolerate… If he were in any position to stop them.”

  “Thus,” Savasmittar said gravely, “he is not. The Dread is out of the equation. Incapacitated, imprisoned, or deceased. I consider the latter least probable; he was known to be resilient and durable even out of proportion to his overall power. Magical beings who specialize themselves thus often end up sealed away in some manner.”

  “Oh, gods,” Dashar groaned, slapping a claw over his eyes and slumping back down. “That means she’s single. There’ll be no living with him now.”

  “Dash, really,” Abenat exclaimed.

  “You’re just pissy because I’m right!”

  “Peace,” Savasmittar interjected, wearing a slight smile. “I value the presence of those willing to criticize me; a ruler who will not be questioned becomes a menace to their people. Your old man can take a bit of ribbing, Dashar,” he added, reaching out to gently stroke back a lock of his son’s bronze hair, “but please be kind to your siblings.”

  “Very well, I can agree that this is dragon business,” said Ishira. “But…is it ours? Atraximos being gone is an unequivocal improvement to the world; I say we heap praises on those who accomplished it and then stay out of their affairs.”

  “It’s the ambiguity,” Nashma said quietly. “We are glimpsing only the outer edges of a large, complex, and developing situation which remains overall dangerously opaque. The only conclusively established facts are that the family of Atraximos the Dread have somehow acquired the power to eliminate even the most indestructible of dragons, and are now engaged in some campaign whose purpose we do not understand, but which shows a marked disregard for the sanctity of other people’s borders.”

  Nasham shook his head. “I think the wisest course is still to withdraw, Father. It seems clear Pheneraxa and her group were only here to do commerce, and chose Shamissar specifically because it is far from their own concerns. It seems safest to watch what they do, and refrain from making ourselves the target of their attention.”

  “You are correct, my son,” Savasmittar agreed. “Our operations will thus move to a more cautious pattern. Ignorance is not acceptable; we must continue to gather information as we can, but with more care not to provoke the residents of Dragonvale. And we must attend to our own affairs, in such a way that we assure whatever new power is rising will not find itself in a position to…attend them on our behalf.”

  Another tense silence fell.

  “What’s difficult is that we don’t know whether Tiavathyris is involved in this,” Ishira said at last. “We could, I think, put up a sufficiently dangerous defense to deter the other two from any aggressive action, but I’m concerned she would just take that as an interesting challenge.”

  “You are on the right trail, daughter,” Savasmittar agreed. “Dragons such as Tiavathyris who enjoy the struggle of conquest are in the minority; most of my kind are accustomed to great power and let it go to their heads, preferring not to test themselves against a foe who poses an actual threat. The eternal dilemma is that measures which would deter most dragons have a tendency to attract the rest. Fortunately, there is a well-established resolution to this problem: rather than making oneself too dangerous to assault, one must make the prospect too tedious and annoying to be worth the effort.”

  He leaned forward, panning his gaze around his children’s faces, and smiled.

  “And thus why I have asked you here. The task before us is to render our domain…not dragon-proof, for there is no such thing, but—”

  “But too much a pain in the tail to bother with,” Dashar said, grinning.

  “Precisely.” Sovereign Savasmittar nodded, smiling back. “So the question becomes: how do we make a dragon wait in line at the customs office?”

  Godslayers, has gotten published and is now available in ebook, audiobook, and paperback!

  social science fiction I've ever read. The very unique concept would be worth attention on its own, but the execution is incredibly skilled. I can't recommend this book enough.