It’s a door like any other in the Cadre, left open as Dyeawan wheels in front of it. A chorus of reeds whistling a soothing melody in perfect harmony greets Dyeawan. It’s dark inside. A long, thick tapestry has been hung over the window. Edger is reclining in a luxurious lounging chair in the middle of the room. His head is tilted back, and he turns his expressionless face toward her. He raises one of his masks, its features molded into a broad welcoming smile of greeting.

Quan, the gaunt, impossibly tall brown-robed attendant, is practically doubled over Edger. Permanent bite and claw marks are deep, red grooves in the flesh of Edger’s throat. Quan is gently applying a salve to each of those deep grooves with a square of silk. The creature that made them, Ku, is conspicuously absent from the man’s neck; it’s the first time Dyeawan has seen him without the wind dragon that allows him to speak affixed there.

“Good day, little Slider,” Quan warmly greets Dyeawan.

“Hello. Did I hear the bells wrong?”

“No, no, you were summoned. I apologize. I should have had him cleaned up by now.”

“Where is Ku?” Dyeawan asks.

Quan, continuing to treat Edger’s scars, points with his free hand at the far corner of the room.

Dyeawan leans over the side of her tender and peers around them both. Behind thick glass erected on a stone dais, Ku’s scaly green body is wrapped around the pale pink form of another wind dragon. Their hollow, bony protrusions are all vibrating in unison, the source of the soft music Dyeawan first heard upon entering the room.

“Is he all right?”

“Oh yes. You see, we inject Ku with an elixir to keep him docile while he is joined with Edger, but once every month he undergoes the mating cycle of the wind dragon. His nature becomes violent, and more importantly, strong enough to overpower the elixir. In such a state he’d surely tear out Edger’s throat. He must be removed and his mating instinct sated before they can be safely coupled again.”

“I see. I’m sorry, Edger.”

He doesn’t change his mask of expression, but he does wave a hand dismissively.

“It’s quite all right, little Slider. In fact, I relish the break from this one’s endless prattle.”

Quan laughs at his own jest, and Dyeawan thinks she sees Edger’s shoulders rise and fall silently as if he’s attempting to do the same.