In the Labyrinth of Drakes by Marie Brennan

higher than they could leap without the assistance of their wings, and slightly overhung so the beasts could get no footing to climb out. Each had a small subterranean chamber adjoining, into which they could retire to escape the heat of the sun as needed; this was lined with stone, to mimic the rock shelters in which they often reside, and was pleasantly cool compared to the open sand.
    But the dragons themselves were not happy. Beasts though they are, they are capable of feeling, and this can be read in their posture and behaviour. Our dragons were listless, dull-eyed, their scales dusty and neglected. Their crippled wings dragged in the sand; I saw that one had a bandage affixed to her left wing-edge, to protect a chafed spot from further aggravation.
    In short, they were nothing like the dragons of the tales, great golden beasts soaring over their desert kingdoms, and the difference made my heart ache.
    â€œNo wonder they will not breed,” I said to Tom. “An upset horse is less likely to conceive; I expect the same is true of dragons.”
    â€œThen we must find a way to please them,” he replied. “Though how we will do that, I don’t know.”
    Our stable at the time consisted of two females and one male; a third female had pined away during the gap between Lord Tavenor’s departure and our arrival. Lord Tavenor, showing more education but little more imagination than I had when I was seven, had named them sequentially: one of the females was Prima, the male Quartus, and the other female Quinta. (Secundus and Tertia had perished some time ago, along with Sexta, Septimus, and Octa.) I walked the circuit of all three inhabited pits, and went down into the fourth to examine it from the inside. It was not all that much like the landscape in which they ordinarily roamed, but I could imagine the reactions of Colonel Pensyth and the sheikh if I asked them to create an enormous desert park.
    Tom was leaning on the railing above, watching me explore. “Perhaps an enormous cage,” I called up to him. “Two cages, one layered inside the other. We can measure the fullest reach of their flame, and make that the gap between the two cages, so that no one will be burnt. And build it high—a framework like the one they used for the Invisible House during the Exhibition. Forty meters would not be much for the dragons, but they would be able to fly at least a little.”
    I could see Tom smiling, even at this range. “With some kind of cart on rails to deliver their food. Though cleaning the interior might be difficult, I fear—we’d have to sneak in while they were sleeping.”
    If we could make the drakes reproduce reliably, the Crown might build a hundred dragon cages to our specifications, be they never so lavish. The creatures were unlikely to oblige us, though, if we could not better their conditions: and so my thoughts went around in circles. But there was value in imagining the possibilities, as that might give us notions of more feasible solutions.
    I climbed up the ladder and stood for a moment, the dry wind brushing like silk against my skin. I felt utterly drained.
    Tom put one hand on my arm: a gesture of support he did not often give where others might see. “We’ll find a way, Isabella.”
    I nodded. “And if we fail, it will not be for lack of trying.”

 
    FOUR
    Lumpy—Honeyseekers and the use thereof—In search of eucalyptus—A lack of hospitality—Messenger from the desert—A folded piece of paper
    I made a point of visiting the dragon pits every day, including the smaller enclosures where the juveniles were kept. There were eleven of these, ranging from a hatchling barely six months old to one I thought would soon enter draconic adolescence.
    The younglings were a good deal easier to keep than their elders, as desert drakes only develop their extraordinary breath when they reach physical maturity. Lord Tavenor had