"Which is how much?"

"Ten grand at least. Five hundred each. Easy money!"

I only shrugged. We dollar millionaires—or I could say debtors—don't care much about half a grand. Never mind.

"Go ahead," I waved in agreement. "Just make sure you keep the details secret. They don't need to know them."

Two hours later, I was standing in the thick of a crowd who wished to gawk at the still-alive dragon, generously cursing everyone and their grandmother under my breath. The wretched Patriarch of the Church of Light had promised to close the event by casting a free mass buff for everyone. Ad gloriam, so to say. Circuses and freebies—that was the explosive mixture that had driven over ten thousand sentients to the square.

My three-hundred strong group that had looked so huge in the hangar had dissolved within the sea of people leaving no trace. Zero hour was almost upon us. Warriors thickened around me, squeezing out all the irrelevant individuals, surrounding my fragile frame with their monolith ranks. Obeying unseen orders, they increased the gaps between themselves, forcing everyone else back and clearing a space in the middle. The crowd grunted and gave way, surrendering the area without a fight.

I caught the junior coordinator's quizzical glance and shook my head. I hadn't yet lost hope of reaching the Bone Dragon's mind. The beast was in a bad way. Her massive skeleton, once shiny, was now yellow and cracked; her once-gleaming eyes two dying embers. Amid the crowd's racket, I barely heard what sounded like a dry branch snapping as one of the Dragon's ribs broke. Awkwardly she slumped to one side. The creature was dying.

Was she so dead she couldn't hear me or what? Come on, you bag of bones, speak to me! This is Laith, I've done what you asked me to, you've got two lovely chicks, damn them!

My stare was boring a hole in her as I kept up my rambling, flexing my non-existing telepathy muscle. Finally, her enormous bulk bulged; she raised her head, her unseeing eyes scanning the crowd. The mob roared—apparently, the dragon hadn't entertained them with any signs of life for a while.

Laith?

Yes! Yes, damn you! You've got chicks, you empty skull, a boy and a girl. Phantom ones, just like you hoped they'd be!

With a stir, the dragon forced a feeble wing open and struggled to her feet leaning against it. Crack! Her fragile bones snapped in a whiff of dust as her once-powerful body collapsed back onto the cobblestones. The crowd was celebrating. The priest needed no other encouragement to keep going on about the power of Light and the approaching demise of the Dark.

The dragon raised her unwieldy head. The primal Darkness that once filled her now swirled in barely noticeable grayish spots. But happiness—true happiness—was now gushing out across all band widths. The crowd quietened down, open-mouthed, gawking at the joyous creature of the Dark. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes; then they left her empty sockets clattering across the stones, easily passing through the dome and disappearing under the crowd's feet. A struggle began in the first rows immediately growing into a fight.

The stands protested. Someone especially sensitive jumped up, shouting, "Mercy! Have mercy!"

With that initial impulse, dozens of spectators began chanting,

"Mer-cy! Free-dom!"

Their voices were barely heard in the thousand-strong crowd but still the chief prayer-monger sensed the change of sentiment. He hastily motioned to a thin line of about fifty servants encircling the dome.

"Commence!"

With a jolt, I hurried, Hold on, we're going to get you out now. I've got mercs here with me. Just don't you dare die on us, your chicks are going mad with worry, they're flooding the location with their emotions! They need their mother! Just wait till I lift the dome, then fly to your castle!

The dragon audibly sighed. She paused, thinking, and then whispered a decision that didn't seem to have come to her lightly, Very well, I'll try... At least I can go with dignity, snapping my jaws at them one last time...

She lowered her head. Groaning with pain and effort, she pulled out one of her own ribs. The crowd gasped. The dragon stuck her head into the resulting cavity and almost immediately jerked it back out. In her teeth she had a huge black diamond.

"Heart of a Dragon," Widowmaker commented in the staff chat. "At least a thousand years old, judging by the size of it. What a loot! That is in fact the main ingredient for a dome shield artifact. A Nova class, even. Half a million gold."

Crack! The Dragon munched through the stone. A wave of energy surged through her from top to toe, restoring the clouds of Darkness and knitting the broken bones. Many, but not all, by far not all. But at least now the creature looked like a rather battered dragon and not a dead bag of bones like she had a minute before.

"Was half a million," Widowmaker corrected himself. "So she decided to risk her afterlife..."

"Pardon?" I asked mechanically, too busy assessing the rapidly changing situation.

"It's common knowledge. If a dragon leaves its heart behind, it'll never respawn. Quite rare loot, that. Was. The stone's a goner. At least the holy Joes won't lay their greedy hands on it. But I shouldn't die any time soon if I were this dragon. She won't respawn anymore."

The Patriarch jumped up from his folding throne. "Get on with it!" he squeaked.

Get on with it! I echoed in the battle chat.

"Once you remove the dome, keep away!" the dragon whispered. "I can't see. I'm blind..."

"Charge!" Widowmaker yelled at the top of his lungs.

"Barrraah!" hundreds of throats joined in.

Things got rolling!

Chapter Twenty-One

Z elenogorsk Highway, not far from St. Petersburg. Current time.

Snowflakes floated in the blue sky landing on Taali's face where they immediately turned into tiny droplets. Sorry to see their beauty disappear, she pulled down the edge of the balaclava, covering her face. After a moment's hesitation, she lowered her large goggles that, apart from their yellow marksman's lenses, didn't differ much from the regular sports ones. Now everybody was happy: the snowflakes as well as the girl who'd become absolutely unrecognizable.

Taali lay on a foam mat spread over the well-trampled snow: the position carefully prepped for her beforehand by her anonymous helper. The spot he'd chosen for her was perfect. A straight half-mile stretch of road lay in front of her—sufficient to shoot as many rounds as she wanted to and at any distance. Then the road made a sharp turn of at least sixty degrees, skirting the forested area where she lay in waiting.

A tiny pink radio—virtually a toy—dinged with a code signal. The target car had cleared the control point. That was the last she'd hear from her unknown assistant whom she'd never be able to identify even if she wanted to.

She rolled onto her stomach and pulled off her warm mittens. Underneath them she wore fingerless suede gloves, soft and thin. She lifted the suddenly heavy Vintorez, pressed the heel of the butt against her shoulder and rested the forestock atop a low ice parapet. The touch of the deadly steel and her favorite smell of gun oil and burnt gunpowder felt calming and soothing. She took several deep breaths to level her respiration. Pressing her cheek to the butt, she looked down the sights.

The car showed up a few seconds earlier than expected. This quiet Saturday morning its police driver hurried to reach her luxury country house. Time to bring her to book. Nine hundred feet. Too early. It took the heavy subsonic bullet a whole second to cover the distance. Its ballistics demanded a considerable adjustment for height and wind.