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Master of Dragons

Margaret Weis
Chapters (46)
  1. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  2. PROLOGUE
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. EPILOGUE

Master of Dragons

Dragonvarld Book 3

Margaret Weis

To all those with dragon-magic in their blood,

this hook is fondly dedicated.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to acknowledge the assistance of my friend and military adviser, Robert Krammes, who has been of such inestimable help to me on these novels, and to his wife and my dear friend, Mary Krammes, who has served as wardrobe mistress to Evelina.

PROLOGUE

LYSIRA ENTERED THE ENORMOUS CAVERN THAT WAS THE ANCIENT Hall of Parliament for dragonkind. The entrance was located in the tallest peak of a snow-capped mountain range. Gaping black against the white-shrouded crags, the opening had been carved hundreds of centuries ago by dragon-magic. No need to hide it from humans, not this far up the mountainside. The entrance was large enough to accommodate a dragon in flight. Lysira was small for her kind, and she swooped into the entryway with ease, glad to leave behind the glare of the sun glittering on the snow for the restful darkness of the Hall.

The dragon spiraled downward, drifting on the whispering air currents, listening to the silence that was dark in her mind. The Hall was empty. Parliament was not in session. She was not really supposed to be here, but she felt drawn to this place. Disturbed and troubled, she did not know what to do or where to turn for answers, and so she decided to come here. Perhaps if she were in the Hall itself, she would be able to glean some of the wisdom of those who came before her, pick up a trace of their colors. Learn from their experience. At least, that’s what she’d told herself.

Gliding downward on still wings toward the floor that was far, far below her, Lysira was bitterly disappointed. She saw only darkness. The cavern was empty. If there were ghosts, they slumbered in the eternal dragon dream that was death.

Upset, Lysira was not paying attention to what she was doing, and the floor came up on her before she was ready for it. She landed with an ungraceful thud, nearly going over on her nose. Recovering, she was thankful that no one was here to have witnessed such a fledgling bumble.

She was especially glad that one particular dragon was not present—the Walker, Draconas. Her scales rippled all over in embarrassment at the thought. In truth, it was because she’d been thinking of him and everything he’d said at the last session of Parliament that she had botched her landing. But she couldn’t decide if it was his words that bothered her or if it was the way his colors had so gently touched her.