the equation I add up to

1/15/1347
morning
Madrid

Matthew knocked on the door of Callas' chamber. After a moment, she opened it, raising her eyebrows. "Hello, Sir Matthew. What is it?"

"Someone is here to see you. He says his name is Armand."

"Have him shown into the large conference room. Tell him I'll be with him in a few minutes." Matthew sketched a bow and left.

Callas turned to Galvin, who was writing at the desk. "Do you want to come with me? I think I know what he wants, and it shouldn't take me very long to talk to him."

Galvin looked up, his eyes thoughtful. "This is about that debt you owe him, isn't it?"

"I think so. And if you come with me, it might help me fend him off."

Galvin chuckled. "Has a chaperone ever helped before?"

She snorted. "Not noticeably."

"I don't think I need the aggravation of seeing Armand flirting with you this afternoon. Why don't you take Gavião?"

"Good idea, love." She came over to him and kissed him soundly. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

Callas fetched Gavião, and they walked together down to the conference room. Armand, who had draped himself artistically over one of the chairs, rose to his feet as they entered. "Lady Headmistress. Knight Commander. It is good to see both of you again."

She inclined her head at the gold dragon. "Armand. I'm glad to see you're well."

"For the moment, Callas, for the moment." They all sat near each other, Callas making sure to seat herself just out of arm's reach of the dragon. She noticed that she felt a little more at ease around the dragon, almost ready to trust him a little, but she reminded himself that he wasn't truly an ally, and she couldn't assume that he was. Armand asked, "I thought the Headmaster might be joining us this afternoon, as well?"

"Galvin has something else currently taking his attention. He sends his regards."

A small, knowing smile from the dragon. "I am certain he does, my lady."

She glanced at Gavião, who was sitting with his arms crossed, then turned her attention back to Armand. "So, Armand, you wanted to see me?"

"I did, my lady." He leaned forward. "I have heard that the dream wraith Lazlo has perished."

"Quite definitively. He's not coming back, either. We destroyed his soul, and his body has been taken."

Armand smiled. "Always good to know. Lazlo and I had our differences, and I for one don't mourn his passing. Especially since, my fair Headmistress, it makes it possible for me to finally request of you the information that I need to know."

"I take it this is something you didn't want Lazlo to know?"

"What Lazlo knew, the rest of the council knew. And had he even had a whiff of this, he would have ferreted out the rest before you could even blink. Fortunately, Lazlo had some blind spots in his imagination. He never investigated Sorcha, for instance. And it's Sorcha I need to know about."

"What do you need to know?"

"A very small thing, fair one. A single word. The keyword to free Sorcha."

Callas blinked. She considered and then discarded several responses, trying to find a way to ask for the information she needed without prying. "The keyword to free her from...?"

Armand shrugged. "Ah, that is the mystery, is it not? I think that once you find the keyword, you will find the circumstances under which it was set, which will tell us when and where it's to be used. And to answer the question that I can see in your eyes, my lady, I am older than you might suppose. And Aine talks in her sleep."

Callas narrowed her eyes and tilted her head at the dragon, his expression telling her nothing. "Tell me, Armand, have you known all along?"

"Who Straberon is? Of course. One allows the great ladies in one's life to believe they are keeping their secrets, but I have always known." He shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "We have been on friendly terms, off and on, for the last fifteen thousand years or so. I cherish the time I have with her, but understand that she does have other obligations. As she does now. The last half of a millennium, I have seen her but rarely. And, truth be told..." He paused, seeming to be searching for the correct phrase. "While I respect Straberon, and while it is impossible not to love her, to be the focus of her attention is not comfortable, as I am certain Prince Riyor has had ample time to discover. While I envy him, I also have sympathy for his plight." He shook his head. "I apologize. I have discovered a tendency to ramble in recent days. Perhaps old age has caught up with me at last."

Callas smiled. "I have difficulty believing that, somehow. I will find you your word and sift through Sorcha's past. I have had hints that not all is at it seems, there."

"No, lady Headmistress. It is certainly not."

Gavião cleared his throat. "Tell me, Armand, as long as we're speaking of old friends--you know Dushela, don't you?"

"Of course. We have not spoken for three centuries--I believe both Aru and I offended her at once, and she is not quick to forgive--but I do know her."

"She was angry that Aru married a human, wasn't she?" Callas leaned forward, resting her chin in her cupped hand.

"She still dreams of that, does she? I wouldn't be surprised. Dushela is a puzzle, even to herself. So filled with hatred, so insistent that the races of dragons be kept pure. And, yet, she fell in love with Aru, quite despite herself. Not that she would have ever admitted it, but it was true none the less. She loved him, and hated the fact that she loved him, and took that out on poor Nikodemus." He sighed. "I liked Nikodemus. He was odd, but he was absolutely loyal to the one person who ever mattered to him--and who never even gave him a second glance. You have to admire that kind of dedication. He was willing to wait until the world ended for her to change her mind. He even outwaited her affair with Joran, blustersome twit that he was. But he was a red, and that's all that Dushela truly cared about. So she told herself, anyway."

Callas was shaking her head. "Dragon relationships make my head hurt."

"When you live for millennia, Callas, you create complication simply by longevity. But we are all experts in getting along, no matter what. We prize our enemies almost as much as we do our friends, as enemies bring spice to a life that might otherwise grow quite dull. It helps to pass the time. So what did you want to know about Dushela?"

Gavião said, "We have reason to believe that she's about to come after us--or after Tarn. Who is she likely to bring along with her?"

Armand rubbed his chin. "Dushela, now Dushela is not officially a clan leader, but she is a Great Wyrm, which means she does command the loyalty of her tribe should she want it. You have taken Nikodemus and the Servant from her, correct?"

"And Tarn destroyed her lab."

"Interesting. Tarn seems to have become....unstable in recent days. He's usually reclusive, but no longer. But my guess is that Dushela would not be so foolish as to come after you alone. She does not believe in a fair fight. She will probably convince her whole clan to follow you to wherever you are, to try to destroy you. The reds are not numerous, but they make up in individual strength what they lack in numbers."

"About how many? Do you know?"

"Probably a full flight of reds--a hundred. Perhaps a flight and a half."

Gavião was lost in thought. "The whites will be badly outpowered. We can't ask them to go up against that many reds; it would be a suicide mission."

Armand looked at Gavião, gold eyes amused. "Why do I have the feeling that I am about to be asked for my help, Sir Gavião?"

Callas interrupted. "Because you are, Armand. If we can tempt Dushela to Madrid, what would it take for us to secure the help of your clan? I think we can get Tarn here, and together we're simply too tempting a target for Dushela to pass up."

"Ah. Well, then. You fulfilled the bargain we had before, even though you weren't officially obligated to, which means that I am slightly in your debt. That is, of course, the only reason I am considering this." He looked out the window, his gaze distant. "The same terms as before, with a variation. A million in gold or equivalent for every gold dragon that falls. And, upon the conclusion of the battle, the immediate destruction of St. George's Lance. That foul thing has been in the world for far too long now."

"That lance has been the only thing that's kept us alive for the last little while, you realize."

"It still must be destroyed." Armand shivered, looking genuinely disturbed. "We fear little, we dragons, but that lance is one of those things that strikes terror into our hearts. Too many of us have fallen to it over the centuries. It is the one thing that places the mortal races on equal footing with the dragons. It's worth lending you our strength, if it results in the Lance being destroyed."

Callas was silent for a moment, reading Armand's face. Then she nodded. "All right, Armand, agreed. If you help us when Dushela comes to Madrid, we will pay a million for each gold dragon who falls, and destroy the Lance when the battle is concluded."

"And one more thing, fair Headmistress."

She raised an eyebrow. "What, Armand?"

"If we both live, you will come to my home for an evening, and share a glass of wine with me." He glanced at Gavião. "Alone."

Her gaze was stormy. "Absolutely not."

"Then no deal, Headmistress."

"I believe we are done here, Gavião." She stood, lifting her chin and looking angrily down at Armand. "I am not a bargaining chip. We will find some other way to deal with the red dragons."

Both Armand and Gavião stood as well, Gavião coming over to Callas' side. Armand lifted his hand before him. "Peace, lady, peace. I did not mean to anger you. I merely thought...we might enjoy each other's company, for an evening. I am asking for no more than friendly conversation over a glass of wine. I swear that you will be as safe in my presence as you are among your companions, and I swear that I will expect nothing more from you than that conversation."

Gavião touched Callas' elbow, and a glance passed between them. Then Gavião said, "Pardon, Armand, if it seems as if I am not trusting you, but swearing on your own honor is not enough. We'd have to ask you to swear on the honor of your clan. And, of course, you will have to live with the danger that Galvin will choose to attempt to run you through with the Lance before we destroy it."

"Ah, what have the times come to? Of course I will swear this on the honor of my clan."

"And there is nothing else you'd accept in the place of this?" Callas' voice was strained.

"Could there indeed be a replacement for our sweet Headmistress? It seems simple to me. And, who knows...you might even find it pleasant, spending an evening in conversation with me. Tell me, is the prospect truly so frightening?"

"Enough." Gavião stepped between Armand and Callas, his arms crossed. He was a bit taller than the dragon's human form, and he looked down at him, using every inch of his height advantage. "If Callas has said that her time is not part of the bargain, then it is not. I had thought better of you, Armand. I had been under the impression that you were an honorable dragon." The dragon and the knight stared into each other's eyes for a long moment, and then Armand turned his head and looked away.

Armand's smile was wry and bitter. "I am what I am, Sir Knight. I have never pretended otherwise. All right, I withdraw the last condition. For our help, the gold and the destruction of the lance. Agreed?"

Callas breathed a silent sigh of relief. "Agreed, Armand." She glanced at Gavião. "Witnessed, Knight Commander?"

"Witnessed on my honor, Headmistress."

"Done, then." She smiled at Armand. "We don't know exactly when Dushela will arrive, but it's likely to be within the next day or so. Can you get your people into Madrid quietly?"

"We are stealth itself, my lady. And if we are done here...?" He raised an eyebrow, and Callas nodded. "I will take my leave of you, then. I can find my own way out." He walked towards the door.

Callas said, "Armand. Wait."

He turned back. "Yes?"

"After the battle, if we both still live, I will take that glass of wine. If you are still willing."

He stood stock still. "I thought that this life held no more surprises for me, Callas. But it evidently does."

"I never said I wouldn't like to spend an evening in conversation with you, Armand. But I am not for sale. You could, however, merely have asked. I will find a way to make it right with Galvin."

He chuckled, his rich voice filling the small room. "Thank you, fair Headmistress, for pointing this out to me. I will see you when the battle is done, then. And now, I will take my leave, and go to collect my people." He walked out and swiftly down the hall, and Gavião closed the door after him.

Callas dropped into a chair, her head in her hands. Gavião said, "That was finely played, Callas."

She rubbed her eyes. "It was touch and go for a few moments there. Thank you for stepping in. I was afraid I was going to have to walk out for real."

He sat in the chair next to her. "I'd warn you to be careful of him, but I think you already know well that you need to be."

"I never forget it even for a moment. I like Armand, but he's not a friend. Not yet."

"How are you going to convince Galvin that this was a good idea?"

She shook her head. "I'm still working on that part. He did swear on the honor of his clan that all he wanted was conversation, but I fear Galvin's not reasonable when it comes to Armand, even now. I'll take it to him and see what he says. It's all I can do."

And they sat in silence for a time, the cleric and the knight, both staring into the fire, each lost in their own thoughts

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