Inferno. Julie Kagawa
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his voice, the man finally raised his head, his expression calm. But his gaze wasn’t for the lieutenant, but for the red hatchling standing beside St. George.
“Ember Hill,” he said in a soft but perfectly audible voice. His dark gaze slid to me. “Ex-Agent Cobalt. My master sends his greetings.”
Ember tensed, as did St. George. The two guards did, as well, hands straying toward their weapons. The man at the table, however, remained as serene as ever. I stepped forward, feeling Cobalt rise, responding to a potential threat. “And who would that be?” I growled.
“Forgive me, ex-Agent.” The man bowed his head. “But my master would rather not discuss business with the soldiers of St. George within earshot.” His gaze flicked briefly to Martin and the soldier. “This message, and the terms that come with it, are for you and Miss Hill alone. Sebastian may stay, if he likes,” he went on, and I stiffened. That he knew the soldier’s name, as well...who was this human? And who was this mysterious master who knew us all? “But the rest of St. George must leave. My master was quite insistent that this was for your ears alone.”
“I don’t think so,” Martin said. “You’re in Order territory, sitting in a St. George chapterhouse. Anything you want to tell the dragons, you can inform us of, as well.”
“Come now, Lieutenant,” the man went on in a reasonable voice. “Surely you can see I am not a threat. I am no dragon, no soldier. I am not armed. Your soldiers have already determined that I am wearing no wires or transmitters. Two dragons and a former soldier of St. George should have no trouble with a frail old man.” His thin lips twitched. “But feel free to shackle me to the table, if you are that worried.”
“Who are you?” I growled. Frail old man, my ass. He obviously knew far too much to be harmless. “How the hell do you know who we are, or that we’d be here, for that matter?”
“I will tell you,” the stranger said, and refolded his hands to the table. “Once St. George is out of the room.”
I looked at Martin. He stood for a moment, rigid and silent, his jaw set, before he nodded once and jerked his head at the soldiers flanking the man. They gave him worried looks but immediately turned and walked out. Martin watched the stranger a moment more, dark eyes appraising, before he turned to Sebastian.
“We’ll be just outside. Call if you need us.”
“Yes, sir,” the soldier replied.
The officer gave the figure at the table one last glance and walked out of the room. The door closed behind him, and we were alone with the stranger.
The man didn’t move. “All right,” I said, stepping forward. “You got your wish. St. George is gone. So start talking, human. You obviously know who we are, what we are and probably why we’re here. There’s only one possible group I can think of with that kind of information.”
“I am not from Talon,” the man said. “Let us get that suspicion out of the way right now. You have no reason to fear me. I represent a single individual, not an organization. Though Talon is part of the reason I have come. My master has sent me here with a message. He wishes to meet you, ex-Agent Cobalt. You and Miss Hill. There are things he wishes to discuss.”
“Uh-huh. And we’re supposed to drop everything and go meet with this mysterious individual right now, am I correct? Sorry, but I’m going to need a little more than that. Especially since we don’t even know this person’s name, or yours, for that matter.”
“My name is not important,” said the stranger. “I am simply his voice. His name, however, you might have heard before, ex-Agent Cobalt. My master calls himself Ouroboros.”
Ouroboros?
The bottom dropped out of my stomach. I felt Ember and St. George watching me, and suspected I looked as stunned as I felt. “That’s not possible,” I stated. “Ouroboros is...”
“A legend?” the old man answered with the hint of a smile. “A myth?”
“Dead,” I said flatly. “The dragon known as Ouroboros is supposedly dead. After he went rogue, no one has seen him—”
“In over three hundred years,” the stranger finished. “Yes, that is what Talon would have you believe. However, Ouroboros is very much alive, ex-Agent Cobalt. And he sent me here to find you and the daughter of the Elder Wyrm.” His gaze shifted to Ember, who straightened quickly. “He has something to discuss with you. In person.”
Ember glanced from the old man to me. “I take it this... Ouroboros is important?” she asked. “Who is he, anyway?”
I took a deep breath. “Ouroboros,” I began, hearing the awe in my own voice, “is a Wyrm. An old, old Wyrm. Right behind our infamous leader of Talon, he’s the oldest dragon in the known world.”
Ember’s brows arched. “Oh,” she said.
“Yeah.” I nodded. “So, he’s kind of a big deal. Even though he’s not supposed to exist. A long time ago—and I’m talking over three hundred years, mind—Ouroboros and the Elder Wyrm had a disagreement. Everyone has forgotten what it was about, but they think it had something to do with Talon, and the direction the Elder Wyrm was taking it. The stories say the fight was everything from an argument to a full-blown, Godzilla versus Mothra–style throw down, but in the end, Ouroboros left Talon and went rogue. The very first dragon to do so. He just...disappeared. The official consensus in Talon was that he’d died, but there is a legend, among rogues especially, that claims that somehow Ouroboros survived and is still out there. Hiding from Talon, managing to stay off their radar all this time.” Riley shook his head. “Of course, it was always just a myth. No one has seen or heard anything from Ouroboros since the day he fled Talon.”
St. George looked at the man sitting at the table. “Not so much of a myth, it appears.”
“No.” I narrowed my gaze at the stranger, suspicion rising up like dark flame. “So if what you say is true,” I said, “and Ouroboros is alive, where the hell has he been all this time? Why hasn’t he done anything? Does he not care that we’ve all been dying, thanks to Talon and St. George? He’s probably the only one who can go head-to-head with the Elder Wyrm and have a sliver of a chance. Why hasn’t he ever made himself known, contacted the rogues at the very least? Why now?”
“I do not presume to know the mind of Ouroboros,” the human stated. “I have come to deliver his message, nothing more. I do know that contacting anyone by modern means, such as phones, computers, and the like, has never been his preference. Phones can be traced. Computers can be hacked. Ouroboros is a bit of a...traditionalist, if you would. If you wish to know the answers to your questions, you will have to go to him and ask him yourself.”
I growled in frustration. “Fine. Where is he?”
The man blinked. “Forgive me, ex-Agent,” he said, still in that supremely calm voice. “I’m afraid I cannot tell you that.” He raised a hand as I stepped forward. “You, of all people, should know the lengths to which a rogue will go to keep their location a secret.”
“Then how are we supposed to find him?” Ember wanted to know.
“If you agree to meet my master, I will take you to where you must go. I warn you, however. It is a lengthy journey. Ouroboros is not here, in the United States. Hiding himself so well meant cutting himself off from nearly all of civilization. The trip to meet him will take some time.”
“Time we really don’t have,” I snapped. “There’s a war happening now, and Talon is on the move. I can’t leave the hatchlings to go traipsing halfway around the world for a chat.”
“Even if that chat is with Ouroboros?” the stranger asked mildly. “The First Rogue? One of only four great Wyrms in the entire world? Who knew the Elder Wyrm centuries ago, who is the second most powerful dragon your kind has ever known? I would think that you, ex-Agent Cobalt, with your network of dragons trying to hide from Talon, would be