‘‘Who?’’ Aisling asked, pinching the back of Drake’s hand. He covered her hand with his, still shaking his head at Gabriel.

‘‘It is not impossible. You found signs in Fiat’s house,’’ Gabriel said.

‘‘Signs of whom?’’ I asked Gabriel.

‘‘He’s dead,’’ Drake said, still shaking his head. ‘‘We all know he’s dead . . . Kostya most of all.’’

Kostya looked frozen, his face a mask. The two bodyguards had a similar frozen look. Who was it who could make two wyverns and a couple of dragons react in such a manner?

‘‘Who?’’ Cyrene and I said at the same time.

The dragons were silent.

‘‘I’ll say it if no one else will,’’ Jim announced, standing up and shaking itself. ‘‘The person in question is a wyvern, reportedly killed a couple hundred years ago by his right-hand man and heir to the wyvern throne, and is, in fact, the same wyvern who stole a silver dragon’s mate and made her his own. He is also the one responsible for the deaths of thousands of dragons, and not incidentally the one who cursed the silver sept. Yes, it’s the big kahuna, the whole enchilada, the dread wyvern himself—Baltic.’’

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

‘‘Baltic is dead. Kostya cleaved him in two long ago.’’ Drake’s voice, pleasant enough although not even close to being as delicious as Gabriel’s, seemed to hang in the thick silence that followed Jim’s statement.

‘‘That would seem to me to be pretty final,’’ I agreed. ‘‘I haven’t known anyone who could survive it.’’

‘‘That doesn’t explain the fact that someone is manipulating events to his wishes,’’ Gabriel said.

‘‘I don’t claim it does, but it doesn’t necessarily imply that the person behind the recent movements of the phylactery is Baltic,’’ Drake answered.

‘‘There is someone out there leading a group of dragons with no known sept or affiliation. You know that yourself, since you and Kostya were held prisoner by them,’’ Gabriel said.

I looked with wonder at Drake and Kostya. ‘‘Someone held you both prisoner?’’

Drake made an impatient gesture. ‘‘That was an isolated incident.’’

‘‘They were up a mountain without a paddle,’’ Jim said with blithe disregard. ‘‘Aisling had to save their butts.’’

‘‘It’s my job,’’ Aisling said with a humble smile. ‘‘I’m a professional.’’

‘‘You do it well,’’ Cyrene said. ‘‘I wonder if I could have your autograph later?’’

Aisling looked pleased.

‘‘So who are these dragons, then?’’ I asked the room at large.