The Dragon's Son by Margaret Weis Page A

there.
    Ven lingered beside the river a long time. He kept glancing up the hill
toward the grove of trees. Perhaps he was hoping Draconas would go away.
    Draconas stayed put and eventually Ven had to come back. He had his excuse
ready. “I’m tired. I’m going to sleep.”
    “I have to talk with you about this, Ven. If I don’t, your father will. He’ll
never give up looking for you. Either he or his people will find you and next
time I might not be there to help. Next time they might kill Bellona.”
    Ven circled around to the opposite side of the fire, as far from Draconas as
he could manage. The child flung himself down, curled up in a ball, his beast’s
legs drawn up to his chin. He hugged his arms around him, closed his eyes.
    “Ignore it, then,” said Draconas, rising to his feet. “Maybe the fear will
go away. I guess I can’t blame you for trying.”
    He shook out a blanket from his bedroll, draped it over the boy’s thin
shoulders, tucked it around the dragon-scaled legs.
    “When you’re ready to face the truth, go to your mother’s tomb. I will meet
you there and I will tell you the story.”
    Draconas picked up his staff. “I have to leave now. So long as I’m here, I
put you in danger. It’s doubtful Bellona will remember the attack. You can tell
her what you want and she’ll believe you. Rest easy. I’ll keep watch from a
distance. No further harm will befall you—this night, at least.”
    Ven did not move. His breathing was soft and even, his cheeks flushed, his
hair tousled. He might truly be asleep.
    With a shrug and a sigh, Draconas left the grove,
and struck out across the open fields.
     
    Ven waited until the sound of the man’s footfalls had ended, then cautiously
opened his eyes a slit and peered around to make certain that the man was truly
gone. He was alone with Bellona. The fire was dying.
    Throwing off the blanket, Ven tossed on more wood. He went to check on
Bellona. Laying his small hand on her forehead, he felt it cool and damp. She
was deep in sleep.
    He thought he would go back down to the river, to soak his arm, which burned
and stung. As he walked to the edge of the grove of trees, movement caught his
eye and he froze in the shadows.
    Draconas stood in the center of the field. As Ven watched, the man lifted up
his arms to the night and the sparkling firmament reached out its hands to him.
Wings, thin and delicate, so that the starlight shone through them, spread out
from his human arms. Scales, shining red, overspread his human body,
obliterated it. A long neck, graceful, curving, stretched up to the sky. A head
with eyes of flame lifted its gaze to the stars. Catching hold of him, the
stars pulled him up into the heavens.
    The dragon sprang off the earth and took to the skies. Ven followed its
flight, watching the dragon soar higher and higher, until his tears washed it
away and all he could see was a blur of cold, white starlight.
    He stumbled back to his bed. Stuffing the blanket
into his mouth, so that no sound should wake Bellona, the dragon’s son gave way
to his fear. The blanket muffled his choked and aching sobs.
     

8
     
    DRACONAS KEPT WATCH FROM THE SKIES UNTIL VEN AND Bellona reached their
isolated forest home in safety. He waited tensely for Ven to use the magic
again, but perhaps the incident had frightened the boy. Ven kept his colors
dark. Once assured that they had not been discovered, he immediately set out
for Idlyswylde, to see what could be done to safeguard Melisande’s other son,
her human son, born with royal blood in his veins.
    The blood of kings and the blood of dragons.
    Draconas had also kept circumspect watch over King Edward’s son during the
six years since his birth, traveling to Idlyswylde periodically to catch up on
the local gossip concerning the child. Draconas customarily timed his visits to
Idlyswylde to coincide with the anniversary of the boy’s birth. The birthday of
the prince was always celebrated with the month-long