The First Dragon (Chronicles of the Imaginarium Geographica, The) by James A. Owen Page A

“It’s a privilege, not a right.”
    “I see,” said Deucalion. “And I take it from what you said earlier about expecting to find yourselves in the city that you hope to find them there?”
    “We do,” said Uncas.
    “You may be right, but without the Mandate of Heaven, you’ll never know,” Deucalion said. “Nothing living can get past the Corinthian Giants.”
    In one fluid, graceful motion, Kipling rose to his feet. “I think that’s my cue. I’m going to go have a look around,” he said jovially. “I’ll see if I can’t get the lay of the land, so we can make a game plan for finding our friends.”
    The shipbuilder started. “You want to go into the city?”
    Kipling bowed. “That is where, it seems, all the action is. And I am a man of action.”
    “We could all try to—,” Quixote began before Kipling cut him off with a gesture.
    “Alone would be best,” he said. “Just reconnaissance, I promise. I’ll be back as soon as I can manage.”
    “Is that wise?” Laura Glue asked.
    “I’m head of the Espionage Squad, remember?” Kipling said, feigning hurt feelings. “I’m just going to go have a look around. And besides,” he added, glancing from Madoc’s wings to Laura Glue’s, “I’ll attract a lot less attention than the rest of you will.”
    Deucalion sighed heavily. “Man of action you may be, but it is impossible. As I have told you, unless you have been given passage into the city by an emissary, the giants will permit no one living to cross the boundary.”
    “It shouldn’t be a problem, then,” Kipling said with a wink as he exited the tent, “since I actually died some time ago.”
    Deucalion looked at Fred and Uncas for an explanation, but the Caretaker merely shrugged, and the knight’s squire stifled a chuckle.
    “It’s kind of hard to explain,” said Laura Glue, “but trust me, he’s alive enough to do what he must.”
    This time it was the shipbuilder’s turn to smile. “As are we all, my child. God willing, as are we all.”

Part Three
    The Summit

. . . Kipling . . . started the long trek to the distant city.

C hapter N INE
Messages

    The Echthros watched, and waited.
    It was in the house because of the Binding it wore, and so, when it was called upon, it was forced to serve the master who had fashioned it. But in between those summonings, it was still a creature of will, doing as it pleased. And it pleased the Echthros to be here, watching these little things play at the machinations of the world as if they were gods. No—as if they were the only gods; as if they were all the little gods there were.
    It had played a part in the choices they made, partly in service to the Binding, and partly because it found the events taking place to be interesting. Once, in service to the Binding, it had even killed someone who had spent thousands of years doing little more than helping others.
    And once, very recently, it had spilled one of its master’s secrets, perhaps the most important one. The Echthros claimed to have done so because of a covenant it had made oh so long ago—a covenant made almost at the same time it had been bound, when it was not yet an Echthros, but a free creature, who walked unafraid through the streets of the City of Jade.
    The covenant did not compel servitude as the Binding did. Maybe that was why the Echthros chose to honor the request and offer help to the Caretakers’ friends.
    Or maybe it was simply another aspect of its service to Shadow. It didn’t know. But soon, it might find out.
    ♦  ♦  ♦
    Samaranth’s question hung in the air for a long moment before any of the companions chose to answer. Rose opened her mouth to speak.
    “We are not here to Un-Name you,” she said again, slowly and carefully. After all, Samaranth might have seemed afraid in that moment—but he was still an angel. There was no way to know what that might mean in terms of the power he could wield if he felt threatened . . .
    . . . or