Chapter 1
Lord Remnis Scan, of the northern wastes of Doraegon, was a miserable son of a bitch.
The thought bolstered Kori as she bent her knees and dipped her panning frame into the mountain stream. She was trembling, mostly from cold, but there was a little rage in it too. I could die here, she thought, scooping pebbles from the river bottom, checking for the telltale flash of bright blue. All for a lord’s precious bluegold. All for riches that I’ll never see....
Behind her, a female voice broke the trickling quiet of her brooding.
“Got one!” Hinoda called out, followed by the sound of sloshing water as Kori’s best friend trudged out onto shore. Kori glanced back to see Hinoda with her panning frame held out before her, presenting it to the overseer for inspection. As was usual anytime Kori was working, Jerim was the boss of the day. He was tasked with watching all the indentured servants—but typically, he only watched her.
For once, though, Jerim was doing his job, his bright hazel eyes darting to the scintillating blue metal that Hinoda had found in the river. Despite his luscious furs and his muscular frame, even Jerim seemed to be shivering. It was the end of winter, too early for plantings, but just early enough to risk a few servants’ limbs by forcing them to pan in the mountains.
Brushing her silver hair out of the way, Kori watched as Hinoda drew closer to Jerim, her waist-long braids trailing behind her. Of all the indentures at the estate, Hinoda was by far the most beautiful, with an unblemished face, a small and straight nose, and a slight figure that swayed like a ribbon. Her hair, unlike the hair of most other Grynn, was raven black instead of silver or white. She had quick hands, too, for slapping men’s paws off her backside; they always seemed to think they could pinch her and grab her, whenever and wherever they liked.
Even now, the overseer’s reddish-brown fingers seemed eager as his hands emerged from his hillock of furs. Instead of pinching Hinoda, though, Jerim plucked the blue pebble off Hinoda’s tray with one hand while lightly touching her wrist with the other. His fingers traced lines on her darker flesh as she shivered hopefully at his side. He inspected the pebble with one shrewd hazel eye.
Then he nodded. “You’ve done well. Have Kori pan your spot in case we find more, and then bring this to Lord Remnis directly.”
For a moment Hinoda sputtered wordlessly; it was rare for scavenged bluegold to be pure enough or large enough to be delivered to Lord Remnis by the person who found it. “Thank you, sir,” Hinoda finally managed to reply, and Jerim smiled at her. He was as big an ass as Remnis on most days, but when he smiled, Kori sometimes forgot this. His grin could light up an entire field in a moment. It made his underlings work twice as hard, and be glad for it.
But the effect was somewhat ruined as he leaned closer to Hinoda and whispered something into her ear. She giggled and leaned away, but not very far.
Then Hinoda turned away, and Jerim’s gaze slid to Kori. The smile stayed on his face, an invitation: You could have me, too, if you like.
She wisely turned away before his leer could settle. She wanted her refusal to be very clear. At least, she used to want that.
Hinoda splashed back into the water. “Kori! Over here!” she said, and Kori sighed and headed toward her friend. Her body was stiff from the cold, and her threadbare coat was worthless in the breeze off the peak. Her legs were numb from the knee down, which threw off her balance. She’d be getting a break once her skin was tinged blue.
“How big was it?” Kori asked as she sank her pan into the streambed where Hinoda indicated.
Hinoda leaned closer, her dark eyes sparkling. “About seven inches, if I had to guess.”
Kori’s eyes flew wide and she looked up. “What?” A piece of metal that large would be worth an Immunity! Bluegold wasn’t even supposed to form at that size—!
But her amazement faded as Hinoda burst out laughing, and Kori felt the heat rush into her cheeks when she realized what her friend had meant. Pink as a sunset, she glanced back at Jerim. Dragons above, he was still watching her.
“I was asking about the bluegold, Hinoda!” Kori hissed.
“Your face! Dragons take me, your face!”
Kori stared back down at the water and started to pan in earnest, shaking the sand and rocks through the lattice strung across the wood frame. Some so-called Tinker mage had enchanted the metal to be magnetized to bluegold, so everything else would fall through.
“You didn’t even find any blue, did you?” Kori whispered. “You’re just flirting with him to get out of panning.”
“Oh, come on, Kori. You know it’s not me that he wants.” Sighing, Hinoda bent her knees and pointed at a fist-sized rock beneath the water. “I found the piece next to that. Big as my eyeball, just sitting right there.” She sighed. “But I would do a lot more than flirt with him, if he let me keep the blue for myself.”
Kori drew a breath, pushing over the rock. For that much bluegold, even she would sleep with Jerim. Snows burn her, she might even sleep with Lord Remnis himself, and most of the other servants would, too. This year was a Seventh, which meant the dragon of the northern wastes, Zandaka, would require a Tribute. Only those who earned Immunity could refuse to be Tribute, and you only gained Immunity by giving dragons a gift.
But the space beneath the rock was sadly bereft of the dragons’ favorite metal, and Kori dropped the big stone with her reddened fingers.
“Well, what was he whispering at you, then?” she asked, lifting up her panning frame with a scowl.
“The usual. Said I’d probably already missed breakfast, and offered to pleasure me for extra helpings, once he gets back. The man thinks he’s the dragons’ gift to women.” She rolled her eyes and asked, “You good here?”
“Yeah. Go see the lord. And get warm.”
Hinoda nodded. “Good luck.” And she left.
From there, Kori panned a good twenty minutes more and found nothing before she staggered out of the stream for her break. At this time of year, a servant could go maybe an hour before needing to thaw out again. She was almost tempted to stay and get her legs frozen off. Then she’d never have panning duty again.
“Done already?” Jerim asked as she passed him for the warming tents. She shot him a glare and pulled up her skirts and her sealskin, revealing one of her bare calves, which was clearly tinted blue.
“Hmm,” he said, “not sure if that’s blue enough. I can’t tell through the color of your skin.”
She bit back a retort. All of the southern servants were just as dark as she was, even Hino. “Should I go back out?” she said, calling his bluff. If a servant got injured from exposure, Lord Remnis would punish their supervisor. She was worth more money when she could still walk.
Jerim didn’t scowl, though. He was used to this game. He smiled suggestively and said, “You know, Kori, panning doesn’t suit you. If you ever want out of this job, you know you can come to me, right?” He leaned closer. “There are better things you can bend over for.”
Kori shuddered, but she hid the movement by tucking her smooth curls behind one ear. Jerim was only handsome when he kept his mouth shut.
“Noted,” she said. “Can I go now?”
The overseer dipped his head and swept out a furred arm. “Of course,” he said. “Enjoy.”
It took all her fortitude to reach the warming tent without stomping—he would only mock her petulance later. Inside the tent, she joined a few other indentures around a small fire, where they waited for Remnis’s heat mage to tend to them. He must be working on someone else at the moment, because the curtain at the back panel hung closed. She used to be afraid of mages, given they had been granted their powers by dragons, but she’d long since gotten over that fear. Every mage was limited to only one specific ability, and most of those abilities couldn’t hurt you.
“What’d you do to get stuck here?” said the man sitting beside her, holding his scarred hands toward the flames. He was a new hire, so she didn’t know his name yet.
“My quarters weren’t clean on inspection,” she said sourly. It’s why she and Hino had been sent up.
He furrowed his brow. “What inspection?”
She made fists with both hands, only partly to bring feeling back into them. “The random one that Lord Remnis conducted this morning before breakfast.” She looked over. “Did he not come to your block?”
The man shook his head no. “No one mentioned inspections.”
Odd. They usually happened in batches.
“What do they inspect for?” the man asked.
“Not much. Dirty windows, too much dust. Whatever gives him an excuse. But he only does them when he’s about to have visitors.”
The man glanced southward, toward Zandaka’s distant lair. “Visitors?”
“Yes,” she said. “But they’re usually merchants. Sometimes another magelord. But this year....”
She trailed off, and the man swallowed. She felt much the same. Since this year was a Seventh, the dragon’s men might come any day now to collect one man and one woman to deliver to Zandaka. This longstanding tradition kept peace between humans and dragons—but you never knew if you’d be chosen or not. The parameters the seekers used to judge the best Tributes were a mystery to all but their own, and the only way to escape was to be Immune. And the only person with Immunity in this whole estate was Remnis himself.
The man seemed to be thinking the same thing, because he shifted uncomfortably in his chair and said, “Little early in the year for the Tribute.”
Kori turned back to the fire. “Let’s hope so.”
He crossed his arms, hugging himself, and said, “You ever known someone who got taken?”
Kori went still. The question was so unexpected, so conversational, that at first she didn’t process it. It was like watching a boulder rolling down the mountain toward her—she wasn’t entirely sure what she was looking at, until it was too late.
Then it struck. The Tribute, seven years ago.
“Yeah,” she said huskily. “My parents.”
The man flinched. “Hoards below. I’m sorry.” He dropped his arms. “I didn’t mean—I mean I’ve never—”
“Next!” called the heat mage from behind the curtain, and the man shot to his feet.
“Sorry for your loss,” he said, his voice half a whisper. He didn’t wait for a response before hurrying away, passing a newly-warmed servant on her way back to the stream.
Kori didn’t reply. She stared hard at the fire, watching it tie knots of light in the air.
Not this year, she told herself. They won’t take me this year. Surely, the fates would not be so cruel. She’d already given the dragons everything that she’d had—her mother and father, her home, and eight years of her life. After the last Tribute, she’d left her native land to become an indenture, leaving behind her own brother and grandmother. The pain of her parents’ loss had just been too great. Anything was better than that old empty house.
But even if this northern dragon bore a different name, it still fed on two Tributes every Seventh. Your age, your wealth, none of it ever mattered. They always take the best of us, her father used to say.
And it turned out that he had been right.
