The Priory of the Orange Tree

[Panaya’s] hand strayed to the pendant around her neck, carved into the shape of a dragon.

Such a thing would be destroyed in Virtudom, where there was no longer any distinction between the ancient dragons of the East and the younger, fire-breathing wyrms that had once terrorised the world. Both were deemed malevolent. The door to the East had been closed for so long that misunderstanding about its customs had flourished.

‘[The Seiikinese] let us stay here so they can trade with us and absorb odds and ends of Mentish knowledge, and so we can give the Warlord at least a hazy impression of the other side of the Abyss, but we cannot go beyond Orisima or speak heresy to the Seiikinese.’

‘Heresy like the Six Virtues?’

‘Precisely. They also, understandably, suspect outsiders of carrying the Draconic plague—the red sickness, as they call it. If you had taken the trouble to do your research before you came here—’

‘Have you ever been to Lasia, Majesty?’

‘No. I could never leave Virtudom.’

Ead felt that familiar twist of irritation. It was hypocrisy at its finest for the Inysh to use Lasia as a cornerstone of their founding legend, only to deride its people as heretics.

‘You want to broker a military alliance with the East,’ she murmured. ‘You want to call their wyrms…to help us deal with the awakenings.’ […] ‘Fool. Headstrong fool. When the queen discovers you wish to deal with wyrms—’

‘They are not wyrms! They are dragons, and they are gentle creatures. I have seen pictures of them, read books about them.’

‘Eastern books.’

‘Yes. Their dragons are one with air and water, not with fire. The East has been estranged from us for so long that we have forgotten the difference.’ When Ead only looked at her in disbelief, Truyde tried a different tack: ‘As a fellow outsider in this country, hear me. What if the Inysh are wrong, and the continuation of the House of Berethnet is not what keeps the Nameless One at bay?’

All sisters knew about the lost years. Not long after vanquishing the Nameless One and founding the Priory, the Mother had left on unknown business and perished before she could make her way home. Her body had been returned to the Priory. No one knew who had sent it.

One small faction of sisters believed that the Mother had gone to join her suitor, Galian Berethnet, and had a child with him, establishing the House of Berethnet. This idea, unpopular in the Priory, was the founding legend of Virtudom—and what had landed Ead in Inys.

[…]

‘Well,’ Chassar said, ‘most sisters believe that the Mother left to protect the Priory from some unnamed threat.’ He pressed his lips together. ‘I will write to the Prioress and tell her what Fýredel said. She may be able to solve this riddle.’

‘Purumé, you must publish these findings. Think of how anatomy would change.’

‘I would,’ she said, with a weary smile, ‘but there is one problem, Niclays. Firecloud.’

‘Firecloud?’

‘A restricted substance. […] If a dragon breathes it in, it falls asleep for many days. The pirates can then sell its body parts.’

‘An evil practice,’ Purumé said.

Niclays shook his head. ‘What has that to do with blossom sleep?’

‘If the authorities believe my creation might be used for similar means, they will stop my research. They may even close down our practice.’

[…]

Niclays sighed. ‘Unless things have changed dramatically in the years I have been away, I doubt [Purumé’s findings could be published in Mentendon]. Pamphlets change hands in some circles, but they are not approved by the crown. Virtudom does not hold with heresy, or with the knowledge of heretics.’

‘Despite their fear,’ Chassar continued, ‘the Lasian people did not want to convert to this new religion. Cleolind told the knight as much and refused both his terms. Yet Galian was so overcome with greed and lust that he fought the beast nonetheless.’

Loth almost choked. ‘There was no lust in his heart. His love for Princess Cleolind was chaste.’

‘Try not to be irritating, my lord. Galian the Deceiver was a brute. A power-hungry, selfish brute. To him, Lasia was a field from which to reap a bride of royal blood and adoring devotees of a religion he had founded, all for his own gain. He would make himself a god and unite Inysca under his crown.’

‘You believe,’ Ead said, frustrated.

‘As others believe in gods. Often with less proof,’ Truyde pointed out.

‘Of course,’ Ragab said, ‘the Melancholy King was not dreaming at all, but following a mirage. The desert had played a trick on him. He died there, and his bones were lost to the sand. And the desert had its name.’ He patted his camel when it snorted. ‘Love and fear do strange things to our souls. The dreams they bring, those dreams that leave us drenched in salt water and gasping for breath as if we might die—those, we call unquiet dreams. And only the scent of a rose can avert them.’

Gooseflesh freckled Ead as she remembered another rose, tucked behind a pillow.

‘There has not been a meteor shower since the end of the Grief of Ages—and understand, Eadaz, that the shower was the end of the Grief of Ages. It was not coincidence that it came when the wyrms fell. The Easterners believe the comet was sent by their dragon god, Kwiriki.’ Kalyba smiled. ‘The shower closed an era when siden was stronger, and forced the wyrms, who are made of it, into their slumber.’

‘When history fails to shed light on the truth, myth creates its own.’

‘Birthing my daughter took a great deal of my strength. I lost too much blood. Finally, as I lay racked with childbed fever, close to death, I could keep hold of Galian no longer. Clear-eyed at last, he threw me into the dungeons.’ Her voice darkened. ‘He had the sword. I was weak. A friend helped me escape…but I had to leave my Sabran. My little princess.’

[…]

All the scattered fragments of the truth were aligning, explaining what the Priory had never understood.

The Deceiver had himself been deceived.

‘Galian ripped down every likeness of me that had been painted or carved and forbade any more to be created for the rest of time. Then he went to Nurtha, where I had raised him, and hanged himself from my hawthorn tree. Or what was left of it.’ […] ‘He ensured his shame would go with him to the grave.’

‘I agree.’ Loth had spoken before he knew it. The three women looked at him, Margret with raised eyebrows. ‘I think it would help,’ he conceded, even as his faith groaned in protest. ‘During my…adventure, I learned what it was to be a heretic. It felt as though my very existence were under assault. If Inys can be the first to cease using the word, I think it would have done this world a very fine service.’

‘They are not only raised to hate fire-breathers, but our dragons,’ Tané reminded him. ‘Knowing this, why would you sail with them?’

‘Perhaps you should ask yourself a different question, honored Miduchi,’ he said. ‘Would the world be any better if we were all the same?’

The dragon, Nayimathun, was nothing like Fýredel, except in her great size. Terrifying as she appeared, with her mountain-tops of teeth and firework eyes, she seemed almost gentle. She had cradled Tané with her tail like a mother. She had saved Thim. Seeing that the creature was capable of compassion towards a human made Loth doubt his religion all over again. This year was either a test from the Saint, or he was on the verge of apostasy.