Chapter 9

“Welcome back, Director.” The President stood up from his desk to shake her hand when she arrived in the Oval Office for the daily briefing. “How was your trip?”

“Informative, sir. I spent a good deal of time with Prince Haroun, I met with Circe and a number of the new European Immortals, and we hashed out a plan to deal with the ISIL group.”

The President raised an eyebrow. “And the European governments?”

The wolf grinned. “Oh, I met with their representatives as well. Valkyrie is an agent of the German government, so they were very much in the loop on all of it. France and the UK were briefed in as well. The EU has programs equivalent to our own Registration, and to be honest, a good deal more cooperation from their citizens. I'm afraid that half of our Talented are standing on their rights under the fifth amendment to ignore any requests that might let them be rounded up. And considering some of the, shall we say, overzealous actions toward the Changelings the first week after the Event, I can't say I blame them.”

“Well, that can't be helped, I'm afraid. Is it going to affect your planning?”

“Not really. It will make for a rather Changeling-heavy group joining the TSA, since we were easier to spot in a crowd. More of us are in the Registry as a consequence.”

“So how much are we going to have to sell to Congress?”

“The civil rights people are going to scream, but if you spin it as allowing the innocent to enter when otherwise you'd have to exclude everyone to be sure of keeping the lunatics out, it shouldn't be too bad. You can point at the Bridge Bombing as proof, after all.”

“So what have you decided to recommend?”

“Gather up all the empaths and telepaths and team them up with customs agents. Nobody gets through customs without being screened by someone who actually -can- figure out what they are thinking. Or if that's too invasive for them, just do that for refugees and folks from terror-active countries.” She winked. “At least for public consumption.”

“Aren't there ways to block that?”

“There are, but most of them can't conceal the fact that they -are- blocking, and anyone unwilling to drop their shields for an empathic check can be turned away. We won't catch Loki or Morrigan, but it'll stop ISIL in their tracks. They have this tendency to kill anyone that has powers for being a demon, after all. Overall, it should be effective and pretty cheap.”

“Always nice words to hear, Director. Especially from you, you don't lie when you use them.”

'Thank you, sir. Now, as for the rest of my report. Haroun is willing to expand the exchange student programs now that the first group has proven successful. He's hoping that young Farid will qualify to attend West Point in a few years as part of that.”

“Farid...?”

“Lieutenant Foster's stepson. You remember the fennec sergeant that we watched lead a charge against Haroun's jihadi insurgents? He married a local girl and inherited a kit born in the old time.”

“He's not a citizen? That would require bending a few rules, I'm afraid. The Academy is supposed to be for -our- military.”

“The British allow foreign nationals at Sandhurst. I'm sure we could make some kind of arrangement in this case.” The wolf chuckled. “After all, you are their commander in chief.”

“Well... he'd have to meet the educational requirements. I'm not going to make an exception for someone who can't hack it.”

“Something that Prince Haroun and Lieutenant Foster are both well aware of, sir. The boy's getting private instruction to get him up to speed. Seems to be doing well so far.”

“I'll talk to the JCS about it. See what they can recommend. Although the obvious thing is to have him formally adopted and apply for US citizenship.”

“Maybe... but if he's going to serve in the Saharan Army...?” She shrugged. “France is concerned with the Algerians already in their country, and is hoping for your support – or at least, a lack of public criticism – if they should have to start getting tough with them. The British... there are parts of London that are no-go zones for Changelings, and they don't want to crack down. That's getting to be a problem.”

“What do you recommend we do?”

“There's not much we -can- do. Unless you want to send Thor and his Asatru followers over with a request to boot at least half of their government in their butts to wake them up. I recommended that they start sweeps with detection spells and sensitives, but they don't want to look intolerant. I have never comprehended how someone can be so determined to be tolerant that they excuse intolerance, but I suppose I'm just being too culturally logical or something... at any rate, though, I'm not sure that we'll be able to count on the United Kingdom holding together much longer. You might want to think about quietly setting up a refugee program for them when things blow up.”

“You really think it could get that bad?”

“When the conversion is complete? Absolutely, sir. The lunatics are used to Western comforts, and at the same time they complain about using magic. When the electrical devices stop working, they're going to go even more insane than usual, I'm afraid.”

* * * *

“Morning, Captain.” Security at the Laboratories varied from section to section, but for the Mana Research Division, it was under what was termed 'positive control', which meant that you couldn't get in without the door being unlocked from the inside. From midnight until eight in the morning most days, that meant presenting identification to the white-furred and blue-maned anthromorph unicorn who ran the desk on that shift.

The eagle-morph nodded back to him. “Morning, George. Quiet night?”

“As quiet as the weather allowed for, sir. Had a bit of a thunderstorm through here around 2 am.” Sommers rather liked the Captain. He was friendly, and actually understood why security was there, instead of complaining about it like some of the researchers did. Besides, being on friendly terms with your charges made it easier to spot someone who might be disguised or otherwise magically compromised – he'd been transferred here as a promotion after spotting an infiltration at Kitsap Naval Base in Washington in just that fashion. “Nothing really to worry about.”

MacDowell passed his identification to the unicorn. “Tell me about it. They always wake me up with a migraine.”

Sommers raised a blue-tinted eyebrow at that as he checked the ID card. Routine, but you wanted to stay alert. Just because you think you know someone doesn't mean you don't play it by the Book, because the day you got sloppy might be the day it wasn't really him. “Might want to see a doctor about that kind of thing, sir. Migraines can't be fun. Does it happen during the day?”

“Sometimes. It's like I have an early alert system for rough weather.”

“From what I've heard, sir, and I'm not asking yes or no, you might be one of the mage researchers. And if you are, it might mean something that you're reacting to weather like that.”

The eagle's eyes glinted with amusement. “Medical advice, Mr. Sommers?”

“Just life advice, sir. If you're getting headaches, that's what the docs are for.” He handed back the ID and MacDowell's security pass. “And there you go, sir. Have a good day.”

“I'll do my best, George. You have a good one, too.”

* * * *

Trader had been to Beijing for the 2008 Olympics, and had been appalled by the city's level of pollution. Four years after the Event and Wei Lung's subsequent coup against the Communist regime, the change that had been accomplished was astounding. She disembarked from her aircraft – a luxuriously modified C-17 Globemaster, rather than the usual airliner – to greet the Chinese delegation.

“Madame Secretary. Welcome to the Middle Kingdom.” The spokesman bowed low, more in deference to her form than to her rank, she suspected. “You honor us with your visit.”

<Yep. Definitely more to the dragon than the American, that bow.> “Thank you for those kind words, Secretary Zhang. I hope that our discussions will be productive and fruitful. Our peoples have always desired friendship.”

The political platitudes went back and forth for several minutes, cameras recording the entire thing just in case someone bobbled something badly enough to be of interest on the news. It also allowed time for the drivers to bring up the cars – and the dragon's bus – that would whisk them all off to the Embassy until the evening's introductory party. <There's always a party. No one in government ever gets right down to business.>

Once the public greetings were finished, the cameras started to be packed away. Zhang spoke more quietly once the microphones were turned off. “Wei Lung would like to meet with you at your earliest convenience, Madame Secretary. He told me to inform you that he would have come to greet you personally, but protocol forbade it. After all, your official rank does not match his.”

“This is unexpected, Mr. Secretary. But certainly a great honor. Is this to be an official visit, or an informal one?”

“Informal and unofficial, Madame Secretary. He wishes to meet you dragon to dragon rather than as ruler to ambassador.”

“I am at his service, then. When would he like to meet?”

“This afternoon, if you are not too busy?”

“I find that I personally need very little time to prepare for gatherings these days. Shall I drive, or fly?”

“Driving would be best. We will have our security people talk to yours and arrange things as quickly as possible.”

* * * *

Protestations aside, the possibility that Wei Lung would be interested in meeting the American dragon personally had been discussed already, and contingency plans were in place. As soon as it could be arranged to clear the route, she found herself on her way to the Imperial Palace to meet with the true rule of China. Her motorcade arrived shortly after noon, and she was met by a single servitor in traditional robes, who bowed deeply to her.

“Dragon Irene. It is an honor to meet you. I am Chien, Wei Lung's servant from before the Change. Welcome to the Middle Kingdom.” He straightened up and looked on his master's guest. She was much smaller than Wei Lung, perhaps six meters in length, her scales dark red on her back and sides, fading to a pale gold underneath. She had wings, bat-form, and her legs supported her body well, making her more sauropod in appearance than serpentine.

“Thank you, Chien. You have been with him that long?”

“All my life, in a way. He picked me to succeed his former servant before I was more than a baby. By the time Hangbo passed away, he had trained me in my duties and I stepped into his position. But come, I do not wish to keep him waiting.” He led the way into the complex, staying to pathways wide enough to accommodate her easily – more than easily, she noted.

At a wide doorway, he bowed to her again, and then swung the portal open. “My lord, I present the Dragon Emissary from the lands of the Americas, Madame Secretary Makovsky.” He stumbled a little on the name, but managed to get it out.

A deep bass voice responded. “Enter and be welcome, young dragon!”

It had once been the Great Hall, but it was now a dragon's lair. Wei Lung was far larger than his guest, a snaky creature fully twenty meters long, his scales bronze on top, fading to a lighter gold underneath. His crest was a bright coppery red, contrasting with the jade green of his claws. The chamber was furnished with artwork and littered with scrolls and books. The floor, however, was covered in jade gravel. “Madame Secretary. Welcome to the Middle Kingdom.”

She dipped her head in response. “Your subordinates have already welcomed me, Wei Lung. I thank you, and my government thanks you for your assistance these past few years. We have made some useful discoveries, and we hope to keep both our peoples alive and well when the magic returns fully.”

The older dragon waved a claw, dismissively. “This is of no moment. Only a fool would refuse to cooperate in a matter of such importance. But talk of the mortals is for the meetings scheduled for the next few days. For now, I simply wish to meet you. It has been too long since there were other dragons in the world.”

“I thought the dragonkind were Immortals. Is this not so?”

“It is. But being unaging is not the same as being unkillable. Too many of our kind either try to stay in dragon-form during the barren years, or they do something foolish while in human guise and do not survive to take their true forms again. There were eight born anew when the world changed, and one of them died on the first day, foolishly believing that being a dragon made him a match for the machines of war your people had built.”

“That was not the doing of my country, sir. The Israeli Air Force were the ones who shot him from the sky, and only because they were provoked.”

“Oh, I am not blaming you. Nor the Israelis. Fire-dragons are usually hot-headed, and my sources agree, he brought it on himself. But it was your countrymen who built the aircraft, were they not?”

“Not those particular machines. Although we do have the same type.”

“The mortals have come far, and grown powerful since the last time the magic faded. We should talk about how our kind should deal with this new situation.”

“I think that would be a profitable discussion, yes...” Irene settled herself, her tail wrapping around her feet as she lay down. “So you survived the... the Diviner calls it a mana drought. So did Frost. No other dragons succeeded?”

“None that I am sure of. Although...”

“You suspect a third?”

“Ancalagon. The stories that were made into those absurd movies a few years ago featured a dragon who behaved very much like Ancalagon. I suppose it could be a coincidence, but... you look concerned, Shang-ren?”

Irene blinked as the translation spell rendered her nom-de-guerre in Cantonese. “That name appears in one of the other books written in that series. Ancalagon the Black, an elder dragon of Middle-Earth. How could Tolkien have accidentally come up with the same name?”

Wei Lung coiled up, rearing his head nearly to the high ceiling. “So. Maybe he -is- still around. Or maybe one of the other Immortals merely passed the name on to this Tolkien? Ancalagon never cared to shift into other forms. I thought he would have perished when the magic failed.”

“See, that? That is something we need to know, Forge and Gold and I. It is not safe to stay in dragon form during the droughts?”

“It is not fatal by itself. But once the magic ends, you can no longer change your form, and if you remain in dragon-form you will be unable to fly, or breathe fire. It is very difficult to keep yourself fed without either of those abilities, and the mortals always get nervous about having such a huge predator nearby. Better to shift to something smaller and less conspicuous. Although Frost has survived two droughts in dragon-form.”

Trader nodded. “He stays in the Antarctic, and Diviner and Stardancer suspect he stays in the volcanic belt near Mount Erebus. Volcanoes keep a low level of mana available during the droughts as long as one does not over-use it.”

Wei Lung rumbled his understanding. “Useful to know. Volcanoes preserve magic, do they?”

“Small amounts, I understand, but yes. I'll see if I can get a copy of Forge's report on that business for you.” She spread her claws out and watched the larger dragon coil around the columns supporting the roof of the Hall. “You said eight? The three of us from North America, the one who was killed on the first day, and four others?”

“One in Japan, a mere babe in arms. Amaterasu told me that she has locked him into his human guise until he is old enough to control himself. One in Australia, who seems to have also decided to stay in human form for the time being. One in South America, who fled into the Andes and became a recluse. And one in Africa.”

“Why so many in North America, then?”

“Those of our blood tend to be restless. Your ancestors would have been more likely to go there during the recent migrations, I assume.”

“That would make sense...” She cleared her throat, wondering how to ask the question. “Speaking of ancestors... do we lay eggs? All the fables say dragons lay eggs.”

Wei Lung laughed at that. “No, we do not lay eggs. If you want children, you must remain in human form from their conception to their birth. Shapeshifting is generally not survivable for a fetus, and we are not fertile in this form. It is easier for males, of course, as we only have to stay in human form for the first part of the process.”

Trader snorted at that. “Of course. Still... this is good to know. I wondered... I'm not that adept at shape-changing yet, and I always revert to this form when I sleep. I take it that one eventually gets good enough to maintain other forms while you sleep?”

“It is difficult, but it can be done if you desire it strongly enough. Although more often than not, we have our families during the drought times.”

“They won't be dragons then, will they?”

“Not even if you mate with another dragon in the magic times will it be likely. And we... do not make good partners, I fear. Dragon nature is solitary in many ways.”

Trader nodded. “And so we remain rare.”

“That we do.” Wei Lung sighed. “There are more of us alive at the moment than I remember ever being the case before. And I am half Pelé's age.”

“So where do dragons come from? The animal-folk are obvious, humans mixed with their counterparts at some time in the past, and I understand that Healer has confirmed this with her DNA studies. But what counterpart do we have?”

Wei Lung curled up around his favorite pillars. “Ah, and thereby hangs a tale, young one. And it is my duty to pass it on as the current eldest of the Dragonkind, just as Tiamat told us when Frost and I were wyrmlings, and just as Tathashkarr told Tiamat before the birth of the current Eldest. We are the most ancient of the mages, and our ancestors date back to a time when the mammals themselves were mere upstarts. I have thought long about this, and in the last few years the mortals have confirmed some of what Frost and I had suspected. The tales that have been passed on by our lineage tell of a time ancient beyond even the understanding of Immortals, when civilization was the province of our scaled ancestors. They were never city dwellers, but hunters, and they revered our kind as their leaders. But they were destroyed, and even our kind nearly perished completely, when the Comet came...”