“This is finished; we leave now,” he answered, strolling past a silently fuming Fiat, pausing to eye the blue wyvern for a moment. “You aided me when I sought succor, and it is for that reason I will offer you a piece of advice: the natural flow of power should always be to a wyvern, never away.”

Fiat said nothing but watched as the man and woman left the room, leaving him alone with the red wyvern.

“He is an old one, too old,” Bao said with a curl of her lip. “He does not understand the power there is to be had in adapting.”

“He is steadfast in all things,” Fiat agreed, wandering over to stand just barely in view, in front of a marble fireplace. Over the mantelpiece a pair of authentic-looking swords hung, crossed in the traditional manner of weapon enthusiasts. Fiat touched one of the swords, adding in a thoughtful tone, “But much of that comes from experience, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned over time, it’s to never underestimate experience.”

“It is not advice that will regain your position in the weyr,” she responded with acid frankness.

“Perhaps not, but I have found a nugget of gold in that advice.”

“Power flows to the wyvern, not away,” she said in a mocking voice. “How . . . mundane.”

“Oh, it’s not what he said that I find valuable,” Fiat answered, his lips curled in a friendly smile as he tidied a small vase on the mantelpiece. “It’s the memory of when I first heard it that has provided me with a resolution to the current problem.”

“Enough talk,” Bao said, boredom evident in her voice. “I grow weary of this.”

“Then let me tell you a little story, something that will relieve the tedium of your mind,” Fiat said, turning to face her. “Once upon a time, as the mortals so dearly love to say, there lived a wyvern by the name of Baltic. He was a peaceful man, but forced into war by the stupidity and greed of others, dragons who wanted to see his sept disbanded. One day he found his friends departed, his sept all but eliminated, and his very own heir determined to see him dead.”

“I have no time for this,” Bao said, but was interrupted before she could continue.

“With death and the destruction of everything he worked so hard for staring him in the face, Baltic did the only thing he could do.”

“Die,” Bao said. “At the hands of his heir. Baltic was not a brilliant wyvern any more than this is a brilliant anecdote, although perhaps, given your situation, it is apropos.”

“More so than you can possibly imagine,” Fiat said with a smile that chilled my blood.