The Dragon Never Sleeps

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Authors: Glen Cook
Tags: Fiction, Science-Fiction, Fantasy
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risk everything, repeatedly, trying to rush it? That isn't rational."
    "That's easy." From where Noah stood it
was
easy to see. "She hates you. She has only one way of expressing that hatred. Take everything you have: life, property, and power."
    Again Tregesser might have been struck by his own lightning. "But she's my daughter!"
    "Emotion played no part when you removed your father? That was unadulterated concern for the House?"
    Tregesser snapped the lie. "Of course! I know what it is. She wants to steal my victory. She wants to be remembered for breaking the Guardships."
    "You really think so, Lord?"
    "I
know
so, Noah. Get out of here!"
    "As you will. But why would she want to take that, too?"
    Lightnings crisped the air around Noah. He banked, sideslipped, even looped. Those lightnings were thrown in earnest.

— 19 —
    Valerena lay on a couch in an open-air pavilion atop a small mountain on the Isle of Ise in Tregesser Prime's tropics. The structure was a replica of another of pre-Canon times, according to a memorial plaque. She did not care. For her history began with the conception of Valerena Tregesser.
    Nobody cared about the Go Wars anymore, anyway. They would be forgotten if the Guardships were not still around.
    Blessed settled into a canvas chair. "The artifact should have reached your father by now." He raised a tube to his eyes, turned a portion of the barrel.
    "Must you play with that thing all the time?"
    He pointed the tube at her, ran the tip of a finger across a heat sensitive surface. A symbol appeared inside. This one was Valerena Prime. "They say the pattern is never the same twice. I'm checking."
    "Have you found a duplication?"
    "Not yet. Mathematically, I have to."
    He had begun the project a year ago and had identified nine Valerena Tregessers so far.
    "Put it away. You do it just to irritate me."
    "Will your father do what you want?"
    "Of course. He'll rage for a while. Then he'll brood. Then he'll rage again. Then he'll call Lupo Provik."
    "You surprised me, Mother. Not in a thousand years would I have believed there
was
a way to reach him without going through Lupo. How did you find out?"
    Valerena concealed a smirk behind a hand. "Each time he summons me he demands a woman. Always younger and more vulnerable. Just to show me how disgusting he can get. One of those women got through alive. She told me all he did was give her to the artifact. And the artifact, unlike Lupo, has wants and needs that Father doesn't fulfill. He had a pleasant stay on Tregesser Prime. All the women he could handle."
    Blessed spied a speck moving swiftly above the burgundy sea. He fiddled with his kaleidoscope till his mother scolded him, put it down. "And you're sure Lupo will do what you want?"
    "He'll try to steal a march. Set a trap. That's Lupo." A jewel on Valerena's bracelet flashed. "Who is that?" she demanded.
    Blessed did not hear the reply. But he knew the meaning of the flash.
    "You'll have to play on the beach, beloved son. I have company."
    "Your friends from the Directorate?"
    Valerena did not respond except to point.
    Blessed held his breath till he was out of sight.
     
    The screen was small and the image flat, but Blessed and his friends Cable, Nyo, and Tina had a good view of the visitors. One was no surprise. Myth Worgemuth was an old schemer who dated back to the days of Simon Tregesser's grandfather. But Linas Maserang had prospered during Simon's reign. What did he stand to gain?
    Valerena, presumably. The fool.
    His mother shed the slutty role she played for him. "Sit. Get comfortable," she said.
    "Your message sounded portentous," Worgemuth replied.
    "I've found a way to lure Simon out of his fortress, away from Provik." She gave the men an edited story, maybe eighty percent truth.
    "Good," Blessed whispered, and slapped hands with his companions.
    "Blessed!" Cable Shike hissed.
    Worgemuth had noticed the kaleidoscope. "What's this?" The view wheeled.
    "A kaleidoscope. My son's. He must have

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