the hold and sank to the hilt in Trader Dook's throat. The cutlass fell from Dook's nerveless hand. He coughed once, and a moment later his body clattered to the planking.
Relkin ran to the prone figure and felt for a pulse. Dook was dead, no trace of doubt about it. With a groan Relkin retrieved his dirk, lifted the keys, and went back and released the dragoness and the other small dragon.
The dragons were loose, and suddenly there was no room in the hold for a dragonboy, so he took the steps back to the main deck. The crew had mostly abandoned the ship except for a handful way up in the rigging.
"You'll hang for that," snarled someone up above.
"Damned dragonrat, what right have you to come on board with that dragon and kill the good captain."
Relkin spat. "He would have killed the little dragon. You think the big ones would have let any of you live after that? Be thankful for what I did."
"They'll still court-martial you. I know, I was in the legion once."
Looking down on the cavorting dragons, Relkin sighed. Bazil had both the young ones in his arms and was whirling them around in a paroxysm of paternal love. The bitter thing was that the crewmen were right. There would have to be a trial, and at a trial with a human judge and jury, it might not sound as clear-cut and necessary as it had seemed at the moment the dirk had left his hand on that sweet, incredible trajectory.
"Yeah, I know," he said quietly, and folded his arms around his aching ribs.
CHAPTER SEVEN
It was a dismal day. A cheerless rain had been falling since dawn. The courtroom at Fort Dalhousie, where the military tribunal was holding the hearing, was gloomy and grey, although from behind the bar came the mutter of a considerable crowd. The case had attracted a lot of attention in the town. In front of the bar sat officers of the court, the advocates and prosecutors, the administrative staff and the officers of the peace. It was, however, only a court of inquiry, not a court-martial. The tribunal had to be satisfied that the charges were blameworthy before sending the matter to trial.
Relkin sat in the front row, beside his counselor, Advocate Sweeb, a pink-faced twenty-six-year-old, just arrived from the legal mills in Marneri.
Looming above them all was the high bench where sat the three legion commanders who made up the tribunal. These were men of substance, grey-haired, weathered by experience. Their faces were dour enough, but worse by far was the face of the man on the witness seat, Dragon Leader Digal Turrent. Every time he mentioned Relkin or Quosh, his face radiated sorrowful disappointment.
The chief prosecutor was a bullet of a man, a Captain Jenshaw of Sokadein. He was milking Turrent's dislike of Relkin very skillfully.
"And so you would agree, Dragon Leader Turrent, that prior to the day that Dragoneer Relkin left the fort with the dragon, you had never heard a mention of the dragon's, uh, romantic interest in the female dragon that was aboard the brig
Calice?
"Never heard about it. Came back to my post and found them both gone. A chit from General Wegan gave them leave, I was told, and nothing to be done about it."
"So, no word to you, their unit commander, and no mention of this, uh, relationship, between the battledragon Bazil of Quosh and this, uh, feral winged dragon."
"None at all."
Prosecutor Jenshaw looked up earnestly to the men of the tribunal.
"May it be noted that the people's prosecutor intends to show that the so-called relationship never existed and was an invention, after the fact, by Dragoneer Relkin."
"Note it," said the center tribune, Commander Vodt.
"Furthermore," said Prosecutor Jenshaw, "it should be noted that we have already shown that Dragoneer Relkin has a tendency to break discipline and to take irregulatory actions, possibly even criminal ones."
Advocate Sweeb was on his feet. "Objection, my lords of the tribunal, no criminal activity has actually been mentioned in these proceedings, other than
Relkin ran to the prone figure and felt for a pulse. Dook was dead, no trace of doubt about it. With a groan Relkin retrieved his dirk, lifted the keys, and went back and released the dragoness and the other small dragon.
The dragons were loose, and suddenly there was no room in the hold for a dragonboy, so he took the steps back to the main deck. The crew had mostly abandoned the ship except for a handful way up in the rigging.
"You'll hang for that," snarled someone up above.
"Damned dragonrat, what right have you to come on board with that dragon and kill the good captain."
Relkin spat. "He would have killed the little dragon. You think the big ones would have let any of you live after that? Be thankful for what I did."
"They'll still court-martial you. I know, I was in the legion once."
Looking down on the cavorting dragons, Relkin sighed. Bazil had both the young ones in his arms and was whirling them around in a paroxysm of paternal love. The bitter thing was that the crewmen were right. There would have to be a trial, and at a trial with a human judge and jury, it might not sound as clear-cut and necessary as it had seemed at the moment the dirk had left his hand on that sweet, incredible trajectory.
"Yeah, I know," he said quietly, and folded his arms around his aching ribs.
CHAPTER SEVEN
It was a dismal day. A cheerless rain had been falling since dawn. The courtroom at Fort Dalhousie, where the military tribunal was holding the hearing, was gloomy and grey, although from behind the bar came the mutter of a considerable crowd. The case had attracted a lot of attention in the town. In front of the bar sat officers of the court, the advocates and prosecutors, the administrative staff and the officers of the peace. It was, however, only a court of inquiry, not a court-martial. The tribunal had to be satisfied that the charges were blameworthy before sending the matter to trial.
Relkin sat in the front row, beside his counselor, Advocate Sweeb, a pink-faced twenty-six-year-old, just arrived from the legal mills in Marneri.
Looming above them all was the high bench where sat the three legion commanders who made up the tribunal. These were men of substance, grey-haired, weathered by experience. Their faces were dour enough, but worse by far was the face of the man on the witness seat, Dragon Leader Digal Turrent. Every time he mentioned Relkin or Quosh, his face radiated sorrowful disappointment.
The chief prosecutor was a bullet of a man, a Captain Jenshaw of Sokadein. He was milking Turrent's dislike of Relkin very skillfully.
"And so you would agree, Dragon Leader Turrent, that prior to the day that Dragoneer Relkin left the fort with the dragon, you had never heard a mention of the dragon's, uh, romantic interest in the female dragon that was aboard the brig
Calice?
"Never heard about it. Came back to my post and found them both gone. A chit from General Wegan gave them leave, I was told, and nothing to be done about it."
"So, no word to you, their unit commander, and no mention of this, uh, relationship, between the battledragon Bazil of Quosh and this, uh, feral winged dragon."
"None at all."
Prosecutor Jenshaw looked up earnestly to the men of the tribunal.
"May it be noted that the people's prosecutor intends to show that the so-called relationship never existed and was an invention, after the fact, by Dragoneer Relkin."
"Note it," said the center tribune, Commander Vodt.
"Furthermore," said Prosecutor Jenshaw, "it should be noted that we have already shown that Dragoneer Relkin has a tendency to break discipline and to take irregulatory actions, possibly even criminal ones."
Advocate Sweeb was on his feet. "Objection, my lords of the tribunal, no criminal activity has actually been mentioned in these proceedings, other than
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