Not Just Ponies: Dragons of Pennsylvania

by Ardashir

Lawsuits and Dragons

Bram was in his living room, doing a few push-ups to concentrate on something other than Tephra's racket with his human girlfriend upstairs and Cynthia's absence when the Secret Service men knocked on his door.

He'd gotten interested in exercise lately as a result of trying and failing to keep up with Cynthia, Tephra, and the other New Whelps. As a way of distracting them, and himself, from the lawsuit hitting the local Conversion Clinic and Tephra's big brother Volcano and their friends there he'd taken them to see local sights. Waterfalls in Bucks County, the Dutch Wonderland amusement park where the dragons had rolled on the ground laughing when they met the park's dragon mascot, hikes along the local rail trail – well, he hiked it. They flew above it, dropping down occasionally to tell him with fanged grins that he looked like a little beetle crawling along the ground below them. It kept them occupied and him exhausted, and he decided to get in better shape.

He no longer felt like dying with the rest of the world when the Veil came to slay everyone who hadn't converted into Equestrian life forms, pony or dragon or griffon or whatever. But that wouldn't help if he died from trying to keep up with four near inexhaustible balls of energy.

It was in the middle of all this that a firm and insistent knocking came at the door.

“Just a moment!” Bram called, getting heavily to his feet. He was tall and solid built, hair gone white early like his father, and building some more muscle these past few weeks. The knock came again. Bram wondered if he could expect his house-guest to get the door as he passed by the stairwell. Giggles mixed with a low eager hiss from upstairs answered that.

“I always wondered what dragons did with those princesses they snatched in them fairy tales,” a gleeful feminine voice said. Bram's ears colored as it added, “Oh, that tail! Tephra, you devil!”

“Devil?” A deeper voice answered, a heavy rumble with what Bram had learned to recognize as a draconic accent. Tephra said, “I know something about that Tartarus of you humans. A lake of fire? All the heat we can take, no more cold toes or waiting your turn? I hope I go there one day. But until then?” Another rumbling growl and a whoop from her. Bram colored and hurried past paintings and 19^th century photos hanging along the walls. Bearded and mustachioed men, many in military uniforms and one or two missing a limb, mixed with stern-faced women in bonnets and long dresses. They were his ancestors. Most were frowning their disapproval at turning the 250-year-old Siegfried home into a dragon's lair of lust.

Bram glanced at the painting of his oldest ancestor, old Colonel John Siegfried in his Continental uniform, as he glowered.

“No more horny fire lizards just as soon as Cynthia helps Beryl and Lancer find an apartment that can take three dragons, I swear.” Colonel Siegfried didn't answer his descendant, but then, Bram didn't expect him to. He'd often spoken to the old painting in the days after his father and mother died, when it'd been just him rattling all through this old empty house.

The knock came again. It sounded harder now.

“Just a minute!” Bram snapped as he reached the door. He peeked through the spy-hole and saw three unsmiling men outside in dark suits and with sunglasses. They looked serious. He got the idea someone else was there, too. There seemed to be an odd shadow anyway. He opened the door and said, “Good day, may I know what --” The first two men pushed their way inside, driving him back before them as he gave way in stunned surprise. They were both white and between their clothes, their shades, their short military haircuts and an alert bearing could have been twins. Bram tried bracing himself. “Hey! What goes on here?”

“Secret Service,” the third man said as he came in, flashing a badge. Bram didn't often look up at people but he did now. This man was tall and broad and dark as mahogany and bald as an eggshell. His nose had a kink in where it'd once been broken. Other than that he wore the same clothes as the other two men and the same indefinable air of being ex-military. “Special Agent Kingman, these are Special Agents Linden and Fitzgerald, please stand back and let us make sure this home is cleared.”

“Well?” Someone spoke outside. It sounded female and impatient and inhuman. Bram guessed the owner to be a dragon. And going by what he'd learned to recognize as a sort of 'sameness' to the sound of translation spells a Trueborn Equestrian and not a converted human. “Can I come in now?”

“Not just yet, ma'am,” Special Agent Kingman moved to keep Bram between him and the wall while the other two quickly and efficiently checked the lower floor. They went through the rooms, entry foyer, living room slash Cynthia's temporary bedroom, kitchen, dining room. They checked every closet and opened the larger cabinets as well, moving with the assurance of long practice.

“What do they expect to find, exactly?” Bram snapped. “And why are you here in the first place?”

Agent Kingman said nothing until they returned to him. Then: “Well?”

“It's clear,” Agent Fitzgerald said. Or maybe Agent Linden. Bram couldn't tell them apart.

“Now may I come inside?” That voice huffed outside. “It's cold out here. Even for me.”

“And me,” Bram said, his annoyance mounting. He made himself remember his father's advice about dealing with police in any form. Never volunteer any information and watch your manners. “Can you at least close that door if you won't let them inside?”

He fell silent as Agent Kingman turned those dark eyeglasses on him. The man exuded an air of quiet menace. “Sir, I will politely request you remain silent until you are asked a direct question. First of all, I noticed two vehicles outside. Now I will assume that one is yours. Who does the other one belong to?”

“A young,, er, lady,” Bram pointed upstairs. “She's visiting with a friend of mine upstairs right now – hey!” Agent Kingman nodded at one of the agents. They smoothly hurried upstairs. “Mister, don't do that! You need to know something --”

A moment later they heard a feminine shriek coupled to a rumbling draconic roar from the next floor.

“I assume your friend is a dragon named Tephra,” Agent Kingman said without missing a beat. “The younger brother of Clinic trainer and Dragonlands diplomat Volcano son of Magma.” When Bram didn't answer he frowned slightly. “Sir? Must I repeat myself?” Bram noticed a bulge at his armpit. He suspected quite strongly that these men had guns.

“No, I mean yes, that's him,” Bram winced as he heard another deep rumbling snarl from upstairs. The upstairs agent said something mild-sounding enough. A moment later a frazzled and curvy blonde hurried downstairs. Her stylish shoes were on and she wore a long coat. She clutched it tight around her with one hand. The rest of her clothes dangled from a small bag over her arm. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and stared at the two agents. They barely glanced at her. This looked to be nothing new to them.

“Oh, and that's his girlfriend Molly,” Bram nodded at her. She nodded back, looking stunned.

“Thank you, sir, but that identification was not necessary,” Agent Kingman sounded bored.

Molly headed for the door past Bram, muttering as she went. “Geeze, Bram, did ya shoot somebody?”

“No, ma'am,” Agent Kingman said quietly. ”This is a perfectly routine check to make sure this domicile is safe and secure for the visit of a foreign head of state.” Molly's eyes widened. Agent Kingman smiled thinly. “Now please hurry home. I've been told several times that it's cold outside.”

Molly said nothing but hurried to her car. Bram heard a surprised “Oh!” from her as she stepped out. “Oh! Uh, hi, Miss Dragon. Uh, if you're either that Beary or Lanced ladies I heard about, nothing happened in there.” She sounded disappointed. “Nothin' that I wanted to happen, anyway.” Miss Dragon didn't respond. Bram heard Molly go to her car, start it, and leave.

“Now may I --”

“Ma'am,” Agent Kingman sounded increasingly frustrated. “Not. Yet.” He turned to Bram. The other agent came downstairs followed by a hissing and fangs-bared Tephra. The red streaks on his gray scales looked like bloodstains in this light. He ducked his head to keep his horns from gouging the plaster and wood of the ceiling as he glared around.

“What the Tartarus is this all about?” He thrust his muzzle forward and sniffed, tongue tasting the air, as he looked at the three agents first and then at Bram. Fangs flashed as he spoke. “Human! Is this some joke your kind like to do?”

“Sir.” Agent Kingman spoke. “We are inspecting this home to make sure it is safe and secure for our principal outside. I am sure she will explain it all to you soon. Now will you please sit down and be patient?” He indicated the beat up old couch in the living room. Bram noticed how the other two agents' hands twitched as though they felt the need to be holding guns. He couldn't blame them. He'd seen what angry dragons, even ones as small as Tephra, could do.

Tephra snorted smoke but he went to stand by the couch, arms folded over his scaly chest.

Agent Kingman spoke to Bram.

“Sir, are there any outbuildings or a basement here?”

“We have a basement, but it's cramped and dirty, and the inside stairs need work.” Bram kept an eye on Tephra. Tephra noticed Bram was being held back. His lip curled back over his fangs. Bram waved one hand at Tephra in the hopes he stayed calm. The last thing he needed was for him to try helping by attacking federal agents. Tephra frowned but relaxed. “You better use the outside ones if you need to look at it. And there's a shed out back but it's falling apart.” As he spoke Tephra sniffed again. He looked confused, as though he recognized a scent.

Special Agent Kingman said nothing. He just nodded at Agent Linden. He turned on his heel and went out the back door.

“Ugh!” The owner of the voice started to come inside. He heard claws on the wood of the foyer floor.

“Ma'am!” Agent Kingman spoke in sharp command. “I will tell you when we are sure this place is secure! Until then please be patient --”

“I am through with waiting!” A dragon's snarl to those words. “They told me at the Clinic that Volcano trusted these people. I trust him. If he trusts them, that's enough for me!” 'Miss Dragon' turned from the foyer into the house, the light shining in through the windows playing over dark blue head spikes and bright blue scales. Batlike wings arched above her head, making her look taller than her six feet of height. Heavy downturned horns framed a face with crimson eyes that looked around the room in a mixture of disgust and annoyance. In one claw she clutched a golden scepter with a massive and crudely cut ruby topping it. Bram knew it from dragons' descriptions. The Bloodstone Scepter. He knew her too, from TV and Internet and magazines and newspapers.

That's Dragon Lord Ember. Bram wondered how he'd ever do if he met an Equestrian royal. He always hoped he'd behave with good manners, but right now he was just thinking that he should be wearing something more than beat-up old clothes. Okay, but why is she here, in my house?

And if that didn't identify her, Tephra did when he gasped and dropped to one knee. He looked more subdued than Bram could ever remember seeing before, even when dealing with his twenty-foot-long brother Volcano. Ember stepped closer and held out the Bloodstone Scepter towards him. Tephra lowered his head until the scepter rested above his horns.

“Dragon Lord Ember,” Tephra kept his head low. He set one clawed hand on the floor, and Bram winced to see it rip up small splinters from the wood. “Be welcome to my lair. I mean, my temporary lair. If Beryl and Lancer were here they'd honor you as well. I think. I mean of course they would.”

“If they were here,” Ember said, her voice cool, “I doubt that human Molly-female would be.” Tephra gulped audibly. Ember rolled her eyes. “Ugh! Get up, will you? I came here to talk, not look at the back of your head.” Tephra got up quickly. Ember turned her crimson eyes on Bram. “So. You're the Bram human.”

“Yes,” Bram answered, wondering how to address her. He tried to remember some recent lessons in Draconic he'd been taking from Tephra and Volcano. “Dragon Lord.” It sounded like cross between a lowering hiss and a grunting roar. Or as close as he could get with human vocal cords, which wasn't very.

Tephra stared at him, horrified. Ember's eyes went wide and then narrowed. She stepped close, snorting flame. He didn't wince from the rotten eggs odor of her breath. Showing weakness to any dragon only encouraged them to get more aggressive.

“Just a hint for future meetings,” Ember spoke in a low voice. She raised her free hand and held up a single claw. “What you said? That was more of an insult. You want to start out with the roar and then go a lowered hiss. You can be grateful I understand that humans don't speak a civilized language very well. If at all.” He nodded. The heat from her was like standing beside a stove. Ember stepped back. “Also, thank you for aiding one of my dragons a few weeks ago. Volcano told me he might have gone blind if not for your cleaning his eyes. And you caught the ponies who were destroying dragon potions.” She lightly tapped him on one shoulder with her claw. Well, lightly for a dragon, anyway. It took a moment for Bram to regain feeling in his arm. “You did well.” She scowled. “It might have been better if you did it in such a way that this, ugh, lawsuit thing didn't happen.”

“That's why you're here?” Bram and Tephra both said. Tephra sounded as surprised as Bram felt. Ember was the lord of all dragonkind, one of the major rulers in Equestria, and a major supporter of the Conversion Clinics along with her fellow Equestrian royals like Princess Celestia and Queens Gilda and Novo. A lawsuit seemed a bit beneath her.

“Yes, the lawsuit,” Ember sat down on Bram's couch. She folded her tail up and out of the way with practiced grace. “Where is the New Whelp who was involved? Cyn-something?”

“Cynthia Stoltz.” Bram nodded at the couch. “She sleeps there.”

“Sometimes,” Tephra said with a wicked gleam in his eye. He cringed a little when Ember frowned at him.

“She does?” She sniffed at the couch. “Well, now I'll know her when I smell her. Do you expect her to be home soon?”

“Ma'am,” Bram said, wondering what this was about, “I'm not sure. She took Beryl and Lancer, Tephra's packmates, out to look for some rooms of their own...”

“You don't like having dragons as guests.” Ember cocked an eyebrow as she said it.

“There isn't a lot of room here, ma'am,” Bram indicated the house. It was older than the USA, if not in its current form. “This place was made for people who liked it, ah, I guess 'cozy' is the word.”

“'Cramped' would be another,” Ember sniffed.

“We get along fine, Dragon Lord,” Tephra added and smiled, politely, not showing any fangs. “Bram has a room for Beryl and Lancer and me, we sleep on a mattress.”

Ember shot him a sour look.

“You need a mattress to sleep on.” It was a criticism, not a question. “Are you a dragon or a pony?” Tephra actually looked embarrassed, ducking his head like a child being scolded and long tail lashing. Bram gulped to see how close it got to a lamp on one side and a small statue set on a table on the other.

“Human, I apologized about breaking the phone, all right?” Tephra rolled his eyes. Ember just cleared her throat.

“It's not right to sleep on the floor, Miss Ember.” She glanced at him as though to say, did I ask for your opinion? He steadied himself and said, “They're my guests. If I think they need a mattress, they get one.” He quickly added, “And I don't know when Cynthia will be back. I can call her to return.”

“No.” Ember stood up. Her escorts did so as well, the two agents moving beside her as Special Agent Kingman went to the turn-off leading to the foyer. “I need to speak to everyone involved in this mess. It's better we do this back at the Clinic. Call her and tell her to meet us there.” She headed for the door, her toeclaws clicking over the floor. “Tephra. You fly there with me.” She pointed at Bram. “You. Kingman, is it? Bring him to the Clinic in your wagon --”

“It's a van, Ma'am,” Agent Kingman said, “an armored van. Meant to be used by and for you.” He didn't look in Bram's direction but he still got the idea the agent was annoyed with him. “And Ma'am, speaking as the chief agent of your protective detail, I strongly insist that you travel in our van and do not enter the building until we have swept and secured it.”

Ember ignored him to walk outside. The agents followed. Save for Agent Kingman, who picked up a jacket and handed it to Bram.

“Put it on. You're coming with us.”

“Agent Kingman,” Ember called from where she stood outside, in the middle of the small area of gravel and asphalt, with trees just beyond, their branches bare and skeletal. “It may have escaped your notice, but I am a dragon.”

“I did notice that, Ma'am,” Agent Kingman said as he walked towards the van where the two agents were already seated and waiting, its engine running. “It is rather self-evident.”

Bram hustled to keep up with them. He noticed how the early Spring sunlight made sapphires of Ember's scales and ran chilly fingers along dark blue wing membranes as she spread them. Tephra spread his red-streaked gray wings beside her.

Ember went on like he'd said nothing. “I can fly, I can breathe fire, I am strong enough to rip the sides off of your metal wagon, and my scales can turn bullets.”

“I'd like to see her try 'turning' rounds from a Barrett Model 82,” Agent Linden muttered. If Agent Kingman heard anything he said nothing. He just opened the side of the van and motioned for Bram to enter.

“Ma'am,” he said, in that same cool and calm voice he'd used since first arriving. “I am not unaware of your physical capabilities, but it is still my duty to keep you in one piece. And there are people who have a problem with that. We warned you about them.”

“And I have my own guards,” Ember seemed to be taking pleasure in ignoring Agent Kingman.

Even as she spoke something dropped to the earth right beside Bram and the van with a massive thud. Maybe the agents ignored it. Bram didn't know. He only knew that this new dragon had all of his attention.

She stood as tall as Volcano and at least as long, maybe twenty feet, maybe more. Dark green scales, wings that showed signs of old tears where the membranes had hasn't grown back together properly. Scars showed along her limbs were they weren't covered by the armor she wore, heavy plates of iron that encased the dragon. Emerald-green eyes looked from Ember to Bram, dismissed him coldly, and turned back to Ember.

“Dragon Lord,” she said, and bowed her head. At least Bram assumed her to be a female, going by what he'd learned about dragons. A long and slender muzzle, a high if raggedly torn crest on the head that dangled to one side, and wings that looked sharper in outline than Volcano or Tephra's all indicated 'dragoness'. Her voice also sounded higher than Volcano's bass rumble. But only slightly.

“Dragon Lord Ember,” she repeated. “If all is ready Blaze and I are prepared.” She and Ember both looked up. Bram's gaze followed theirs. He saw wheeling high above like some gigantic hawk another dragon, as massive as this one, colored a dull red. From the glinting he imagined Blaze wore armor as well. Bram wondered how bad this could be. Tephra and Volcano had both told him that armor was formal wear among dragons, forged by each individual dragon and worn on only the most important or dangerous occasions.

The problem was that among dragons, 'important' and 'dangerous' were often the same thing.

“Good,” Ember said it as though she expected nothing less. “Tephra here will be leading us to the Clinic, Jade. He flies beside me.” The way she said it, and the way Jade glared at Tephra as he stood stoically, Bram assumed it would have gone badly for the gray dragon if he'd dared fly close to the Dragon Lord without her permission. At least while this giant was around.

“Tephra, Ember, see you at the Clinic.” Bram nodded at them. Neither so much as glanced at him. They simply took to the air, wings pounding furiously and sounding like heavy sheets catching a strong wind. Bram expected that. Dragons didn't do long farewells.

He didn't expect Jade to wheel on him, head down and fangs bared.

“Human, has the Dragon Lord given you permission to address her in such a familiar tone?” Her breath felt like a hot desert wind blasting into his face. His eyes began to water as she said, “To you, she is the Dragon Lord until she tells you otherwise. Do not presume that because she needs to speak with you that it makes you her, her,” she worked to spit the words out, “her friend, her equal. She is not some puny pony princess. Understood?”

“I understand, Jade.” Bram felt the eyes of the agents on his back but he kept his attention on the armored dragon before him. Her eyes widened slightly as he said, “And you understand, I am not her subject. She came to me. I will be spoken to in a civil fashion in my own home. Am I clear?”

Jade snarled in his face. He caught a glimpse of something like green flame deep down in her throat past that fang-lined mouth. He held his ground. Turn his back or show fear now and she'd walk all over him every chance she got. Trueborn dragons despised timidity.

Jade turned her back on him. “Do not be late to the Clinic. The Dragon Lord has better things to do than wait for you.” She crouched and leaped skywards. Bram ducked when her tail almost struck him. It slapped against the asphalt beside him and cracked it. Half a dozen wingbeats and she was airborne and gone after Ember and the rest.

Bram slowly let out the breath he'd been holding. Agent Kingman watched him, hands folded behind his back and looking very unimpressed.

“Now,” Agent Kingman said. “That you have proved your machismo by defying a creature that could kill you with a slap if it wanted to, will you please get your backside inside the van so we can get going?”

Bram silently entered and sat on one of the seats as Agent Kingman joined him. The van started and headed out down to Schoenersville Road.

“Agent Linden, Agent Fitzgerald, you do know where the Clinic in question is?”

“Got it on GPS, sir.”

“I know the route --” Agent Kingman held up a finger. A polite one. Bram fell silent.

“Sir, you will be most helpful by remaining silent unless you are asked a question.” He turned to his own pad, touched it once or twice. “Special Agent In Charge Garcia? This is Special Agent Kingman, Dragon Lady just left,” Bram barely restrained a snicker at 'Dragon Lady', “we are now going directly to the Clinic.” A small voice responded to him. “Yes ma'am. Three demonstrators outside the clinic, keeping it peaceful. We will be keeping an eye on them. I will report more if needed.” He hung up. “Mister Siegfried, you may now phone Miss Stoltz and tell her to meet you at the Clinic.”

“Thank you,” Bram said, feeling nettled. Did he need to be treated like this? He got his phone out and called. Cynthia answered.

“Bram? Is everything okay?”

“Just fine,” he said, turning slightly away to not have to look at the agents. Even an illusion of privacy helped. “Except that Dragon Lord Ember, some dragon bodyguards, and the Secret Service all showed up at my house and are shanghaiing Tephra and I off to the clinic for some reason. They want you there too, right now.”

Spluttering came through from the other end. “Is this a joke?”

“Cynthia, right now I am siting inside an armored van with three very unhappy Secret Service agents. Please, can you get to the Clinic?”

“Well, yes, I mean,” Bram could imagine Cynthia's confusion. “I just got a place for Beryl and Lancer. I mean I tried, I really think they prefer living with us. They told me that dragon packs will sleep in the same lair if they can.”

“They also like sleeping in the same pile,” Bram shuddered at the memory. “I'd prefer not to wake up to find several four- to five-hundred pound dragons laying atop me snoring away. The new bed would probably appreciate it too.”

“Is Bram complaining again?” A faint voice came through.

“Yes, Lancer, Bram is complaining again,” he said with a sigh. “I do not need a new bed, even if you paid for the last one, any more than I need some new scars when one of you has a nightmare. I want you three to have your own place. You can destroy it and not my home.” Growls at that. “And Cynthia, you seriously need to be getting to the Clinic.”

“Bram, this better not be a joke.” A deep sigh from the other end. “But I'll be there.” She hung up and so did he.

Bram looked at Agent Kingman. “Miss Stoltz should be there when we arrive. I hope that will be enough, sir.”

“So do I,” the dark-suited man said, and then nothing more until they arrived at the Clinic.

When they did get there and left the van in front of the clinic, Bram frowned and pointed at the 'No Parking' sign.

“We are Federal Agents engaged in our duties, sir,” Agent Kingman said with what sounded like some small amusement. “We can ignore 'No Parking' signs.”

The Clinic looked the same as ever, big sign of a human hand over a hoof, brick facade and big glass window and big glass automatic doors. The same three sign-toting protesters were there. Winky and Blinky and Nod, as Bram thought of them. Nod, as always the most raggedy of the trio, bore a sign labeled DEATH TO MONSTERS, SAVE HUMANITY with the crude image of a sword through a slain dragon. Or maybe it was a gecko. Nearby stood the Clinic staff, humans and ponies mainly and most of them familiar to Bram. Even the new faces, brought in since Iron Wing and his treacherous cronies had been recalled to Equestria, were getting easy to recognize.

“Granch,” he said to the dark-hooded and scowling Griffinstone griffin. He nodded at the bat pony mare – no, wait, they preferred 'thestral' – and lean and graceful Abyssinian cat-woman standing beside him. “Miss Nightshade, Miss Mewsette. Why is everyone outside?”

Granch looked at him, frowning. Bram never stopped wondering how a beak could be so expressive. “Some dweeb humans in suits came in, flashed around badges, told everyone to get out while they made sure the building was safe.” He ruffled his feathers up. “When I asked what was going on they told me it was none a' my business and put me out. What the Tartarus did they think they were gonna find? Storm Creatures hiding in the broom closet?”

Before Bram could answer Nightshade reared up in front of him. He made himself not look away. She was pretty. For a four-legged miniature horse with bat wings, that is. And fangs. And golden cat eyes. Add in a styled mane and dark eyeshadow and dresses made to fit and flatter her body and she left most human males he knew feeling very odd. Bram was one of them. Her constant flirting with every male she met as well as that silky voice and Bela Lugosi accent of hers didn't help.

“Bram? You're not in trouble, are you?” She set her hooves on his shoulders, leaning against him slightly. The late winter chill in the air vanished immediately. She smelled like flowers rather than either bats or Terran ponies, just enough of a scent without getting overwhelming. Worry showed in her pale yellow eyes. “I mean, here you are vith these men, and Dragon Lady Ember is inside, and no one told us vhat's going on.”

“It's probably something with that lawsuit,” Mewsette sniffed. The cream-furred Abyssinian in the cowl-neck and blazer lashed her tail and shivered against the cold. “Volcano should've stepped on that little creep. Would've saved everyone some trouble.”

“Then this would have been a murder investigation and not a simple lawsuit,” Swift Aid Apple, the Earth pony chief of the clinic said as she trotted over. She bore a palomino coat and honey-blonde mane and tail. It swished and slapped against her cutie mark, an apple set against the sun. Her blue eyes looked around at them all from behind those wire-frame glasses she wore. “We have enough problems right now, thank you. Bram,” she flicked her tail in the direction of Agent Kingman, “do you know why that Secret Serve man who brought you is talking with one of our three regulars?” A slightly weary smile at that last word. Ponies seemed long-enduring even in the face of the greatest hostility. Bram wondered if that didn't just incite these people even more.

His gaze followed hers. Agent Kingman, smart and even stylish in his suit, was speaking with Nod in his collection of unwashed cast-offs. To his surprise they seemed to be on familiar terms.

“Mister Dishnot,” Agent Kingman said, cool and formal. “I'm surprised to see you here. It's usually human politicians you're complaining about.”

Nod shook his head. “They weren't human. I kept telling you, they were all shapeshifting reptoids from the Hollow Earth. Baby-eating devil worshipers. Like those!” He angrily pointed his sign up at Blaze and Jade wheeling high above. The sunlight flashed on their scales and armor.

“Mister Dishnot,” Agent Kingman sighed, removed his sunglasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose before replacing them. “I can assure you they are nothing of the kind.”

“They came here to destroy the human race, and you're helping them!” Nod swung the sign and took a few steps forward, head down and glowering. “No one is doing anything because they've all been fooled! They eat babies and hunt people down outside our cities and you guys are covering for them!”

Swift Aid and the rest looked at Bram in confusion, This was obviously a new one on them. The look on their faces suggested they wanted an explanation. Bram shook his head 'No' at them. Maybe he could explain about a certain conspiracy crackhead's books on invading alien lizard people later. Maybe. But probably not.

“I've posted all about in on my blog! With photos!” Nod ranted on, spittle spraying. “But the NSA-Jesuit hackers and their pony allies used their witchcraft to ruin it to make me look stupid and crazy! But I know! I know!” He glared at Bram and the others, thrusting his sign upwards. Granch made a gesture back that the griffon had been quick to learn.

“Granch!” Nightshade hissed.

“What?” The griffon shrugged, his wings rustling.

Agent Kingman displayed tremendous aplomb by ignoring all of it to keep speaking calmly to Nod.

“Mister Dishnot,” he said as coolly as though they were discussing the weather. “I know I have been late with my usual quarterly chat with you. But I have been very busy chasing down a ring involved in wide-scale identity theft, which is a matter that concerns you as much as any other citizen. I still remind you to behave yourself and keep your distance from any of this country's elected officials. Or visiting heads of state, even if they're not human.” He emphasized the last words. Nod actually looked a little embarrassed. Agent Kingman added, “Perhaps you should go home, get out of this cold, and think about it there.”

Nod looked ready to turn and leave when with a heavy flap of wings Cynthia dropped down right beside Bram. He braced himself, and when her heavy warm weight fell against him he caught her.

“Your landings still need work,” he said. She grinned back at him.

“Hey, any landing you can walk away from...”

“Monster! You're killing humanity!” Bram and Cynthia both recoiled as Nod ran at them. His hand flashed to a pocket in his jacket. It came back out with something that shone like metal as he aimed it at Bram. “And you're helping it, species traitor! I'm gonna fix you!”

Cynthia grabbed for him, Nod jerked back, and Bram saw what he held. One of those cell phones you could use for a camera. He pointed it at Bram's face and snapped a photo. Nod jeered, revealing a mouthful of stained and missing teeth. “Now everyone's gonna know who you are, scaly screwer! The defenders of humanity are gonna fix your backstabbing ass!”

“You little turd!” Cynthia snarled, her eyes blazing gold and her claws scratching at the pavement as she lunged. “I'll shove that thing up your ass, you little --”

“Hold it!” Cynthia recoiled and Nod jumped back with a yelp as Agent Kingman seemed to just materialize between them. “Ma'am!” His voice lashed. “Please permit me to handle this.” Cynthia growled but subsided. He turned back to Nod. “Now as for you, Mister Dishnot?”

Nod was already twenty feet away and getting into a beaten-looking van. His two friends waved at him from the open door. It was covered with parts from different vehicles, doors and side panels and even rear door all in different colors and most of them spotted with rust. In a moment it was off and speeding away down the street.

“Very efficient,” Granch's voice dripped sarcasm. His talons and claws clicked lightly over the pavement as he stepped closer to the agent. “I see now why you people defend their elected king or whatever this country has.” Agent Kingman turned and towered over him. Granch's feathers ruffled out but he didn't back down.

“I got that man out if here without anyone getting hurt, including him.” He straightened his suit. “If you think you can do better, Mister Catbird, then please come down to the Secret Service training course and show us poor agents how it's done.” Granch just sneered and walked back to his fellow clinic staff.

“I'm sorry I lost my temper,” Cynthia said. The sulfur odor around her smelled stronger than usual. “But I didn't like having him wave that camera in our faces. Who is he, anyway?” She frowned in suspicion. “You seemed to know him.”

“Madam,” Agent Kingman straightened his tie, “believe me, I can understand your annoyance at Mister Dishnot. It's been a part of my job for five years to keep an eye on that man after he threatened several presidential candidates for being part of some conspiracy of invading aliens.” He started towards the door, where Bram saw another agent waiting, this one a solidly-built woman in a dark business outfit. “Unfortunate recent events have done nothing to convince him he's wrong.”

“Should we be worried about that guy?” Cynthia looked back after the now gone van, craning her long reptilian neck. “He sounded seriously angry.”

“I can say that Mister Dishnot has made a great many threats but he's never done anything illegal.” Agent Kingman turned to Bram and Cynthia. “I am reasonably sure that he's mostly harmless.” Bram wondered how safe was 'mostly'. Meanwhile Agent Kingman was speaking to the female agent. “Special FBI Agent in Charge Garcia. These people are guests of her majesty. I cleared him,” he pointed at Bram, “back at his house and he's been secure since.”

Agent Garcia said nothing, but she glanced at Cynthia.

She just snorted and put clawed hands on her hips.

“Young lady,” Cynthia said, spreading her wings and exposing her black and gold scaled body, “even if I wanted to sneak something in, where would I hide it?” Besides a small money purse on a belt at her waist, she wore nothing.

Agent Garcia nodded, still looking sour, “Okay, you can come in.” As they walked past her she said to Kingman, “Let's hope we can get this over with fast so we can all get back to our regular investigations.” She walked along with them as another agent took position at the door.

“When will they be letting the staff and the would-be converts back in?” Bram asked Kingman as they headed through the waiting area and back to the clinic office and a small meeting room. The place looked the same as ever, like a slightly upscale doctor or dentist's office, provided you ignored the half a dozen men and women in business suits checking the place over. Bram twitched uneasily as they walked. The place felt odd minus the usual soft music, ringing phones, worried and strained and polite conversations all going on at once, and the occasional shocked cry or whoop of joy emanating from the conversion rooms proper.

Bram peered in one of the clinic's eight conversion rooms as they passed it. A camera stood in one corner to film the change to prove the New Foal or Whelp or Griflet was who they said they were, and that no one was being quietly killed and replaced with aliens here, a doctor's exam table for them to lie down on, cupboards against the wall and a table and all the paperwork needed on it. And all the usual smells of feathery griffon and sweet-smelling pony and that faint mix of sulfur and rank reptilian odor that said dragon, all with an undertone of medical sterility underneath.

Bram wondered at how mundane the place seemed when you considered that human beings came in as themselves and left, usually less than an hour later, as something out of legend.

Really it didn't look like much to be a representative of the world that was unintentionally bringing humanity to an end.

Now Bram could hear Ember's voice, raised in anger behind the door ahead. “And just where ARE they, anyway? They have to be 'cleared' too? Ugh, do you do this with your human rulers too? Back in the Dragonlands it's taken for granted that I know how to defend myself.”

“Ma'am, your majesty, please understand that we are trying to do our job here...”

The door opened onto the room. The chairs and tables were pushed to the sides. On either side of the room stood Agents Linden and Fitzgerald while Ember paced back and forth in the middle. Tephra stood in one corner, watching Ember pace. She still held the Bloodstone Scepter in one claw, her blue-scaled hand so tight on it he could see the tendons standing out through the scales. She stopped and turned to look at them.

“Ugh, finally! I actually get to see someone I wanted to see today!” She walked up to Cynthia. She looked her up and down. Cynthia coldly returned the favor. “Well, New Whelp, you look healthy at least. Volcano is doing the job I trusted him to do.”

“Instructor Volcano has always done right by us, Ember.” Cynthia said back. Tephra gasped and started forward, but subsided at a warning glance from the Dragon Lord. Cynthia set her fists on her hips. “I hope you're able to help him, Miss Ember.” There was a sweetly poisonous emphasis on the last two words.

“To you,” Ember's grip tightened on the scepter, her claws and scales scraping against the gold, “I am Dragon Lord Ember. Get that through your head, New Whelp.”

Cynthia just smirked back at her. “And I'm not one of your subjects, Ember, and I never will be. Kindly get that through your head, Trueborn.”

Bram was getting confused. From what Volcano and the other Trueborn dragons had told him, Ember was fairly easy-going and informal. Her actions here seemed very at odds with that. He'd known about Cynthia's disdain for how dragons ran their society, he could even understand it, but now was not the right time to be indulging her dislike for the angry dragon in front of them.

Ember snarled and stepped forward. Her claws ripped at the tiling underfoot. Cynthia dug her own feet in.

“Ladies! Dragon Lord,” Tephra hurried over and put himself between the two dragonesses. They both stepped back, wings spread in surprise as Tephra took Cynthia by one arm and guided her to the side. “I know we're all worried about my elder brother, Princess Ember's representative,” he bowed his head to her as Cynthia snorted, “but arguing right now won't do any good.”

“It certainly won't,” Bram said. The agents were staying silent. Maybe they figured the local dragon experts should handle this. He bowed his head – well, nodded – to Ember. “Would her majesty be so kind as to tell us what she wants to do about this?”

Ember looked from him to Tephra and Cynthia. She sighed and seemed to shrink. He wondered what she was so tense about. “Very well. I apologize,” it sounded like that word came hard, “to all of you for how I've been acting. I, I have much on my mind right now. Like helping my representative Volcano.” She leaned back against the wall, arms folded over her chest. “How is he even being sued? I thought human law said that diplomats couldn't be?” She looked at Bram when she said that. When he looked startled, Ember said, “Volcano said you were the one I could trust here.”

Okay, he thought, looks like I'm nominated as her scaly majesty's temporary advisor.

“Well, he's not the one being sued, Ember – Princess Ember.,” Bram hurriedly added. “The Clinic is, but it's being sued partly because of what Volcano did back at the New Whelp party a few weeks back.”

“And that is?” Ember watched him suspiciously as first Bram, and then Cynthia and Tephra, filled her in on the events of the party. When they were done she snorted. “Ugh, it's worse than I'd been told! Volcano sent me a scroll about it, and he mentioned all of you, but he made the problems with those fool humans sound like they were finished. I thought they went to jail?” She scowled at Agent Kingman. “Or can humans threaten to kill dragons for a joke and get away with it?”

“Yes, they were in jail, but right now their ringleader is out on bail. And his father has his law firm working appeals for him to keep him out,” Bram quickly said. “They're also the ones suing the clinic. Volcano is named as part of the reason why they're suing it, for pain and suffering and other things.”

“I'd like to give that human some pain and suffering,” Bram gulped at the angry gleam in Ember's eyes. She swung her scepter back and forth like she wanted to bash someone's head in with it. “Don't I, we, have enough problems with the Clinics and the Veil and converting everyone we can save to have to deal with lawsuits by some idiot hatchling who got what he had coming?”

Bram decided to avoid that question. He'd probably have to agree if he didn't. “Well, ma'am –“ He broke off as Ember held up a scaly finger.

“Human. Please, Either call me Ember or, better yet, Dragon Lord.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Every time one of you calls me 'Ma'am' I want to look around and see if my mother is here.”

“This might be easier if Volcano was here,” Cynthia said. Tephra behind her, wings half unfolded as though he wanted to embrace her with them. “Where is he?” She and Ember both looked to Bram.

“Probably at the courthouse for the trial,” Bram said.

“That trial, ugh,” Ember shook herself. She looked around at everyone, a nasty gleam in her eyes. “I want to know something about this human Volcano is dueling --”

“Lawsuit, ma'am – I mean Dragon Lord,” Bram hurriedly said.

“Lawsuit, duel, whatever,” Ember stalked back and forth across the floor. “They're fighting, aren't they? To see who has the right of it? That's what a duel or contest is back in the Dragonlands.” She looked smug. “Back home, they'd just test their strength and see who has the hottest fire, but nature doesn't favor you humans. You can't do any of that.” She looked at a wall poster detailing the dragon potion. “Well, not unless you join us. So you, what, decided to argue each other to death?”

Bram wanted to say that wasn't entirely true, but something warned him that arguing with Ember might not be very wise right now.

“I trust Volcano,” Ember's voice softened. Tephra puffed his chest up at hearing his big brother be praised. “He was one of the few dragons who supported me when I said we'd join in with what Celestia and the rest were doing, when our world came to this one. Why shouldn't we give humans a chance to join us, Tiamat's Children? The other dragons said we should stay out of it but not him. He aided me.” She looked at Bram. For just a moment he could see the very unhappy and tired young woman behind those eyes. “How can I abandon him now? When I was meeting your ruler at the Pale Lair –”

“White House, your majesty.” Agent Kingman said automatically.

“Whatever,” Ember snorted. “I have to help Volcano. He has to win.”

“What if he loses?” Bram wished he'd kept his mouth shut when both Tephra and Ember glared and lashed their tails in annoyance. He saw how agents Kingman and Garcia moved away from them. “I hope he does, I like him, but what if Volcano loses?”

Ember frowned and looked down at the floor. “Then I punish him. Back home. Publicly.” She turned to Tephra. He looked horrified as she said, “He loses everything he gained from over a century of work as one of our few scholars, and probably gets exiled for two or three centuries.” Cynthia looked as shocked as Bram felt. Ember must have noticed because she said, “It's not what I want. But I'd have to make it clear that he no longer has my favor. Or I'd have to pull back on the whole conversion plan, and dragonkind loses a big chance to improve itself with new blood and ideas. In the short term, it's mostly me and my supporters who'd suffer. Other dragons would oppose me openly. Stealing territory. Raiding ponies, maybe you humans if any of you still exist by then. Maybe even,” she hefted the scepter, gripped it firmly, “challenging me for the Bloodstone Scepter.” She shuddered. Bram saw Tephra did too. “Not many dragons would serve as Dragon Lord as well as I can right now. And none of them would be the ones to challenge me. It'd be all the rockheads who think being Dragon Lord is just license to pillage and burn and loot without restraint. Those old days are gone, especially when you people,” she turned from Bram to Agent Kingman and Garcia, “teach the ponies and other races how to make the tools and weapons you have.”

“No new beginning for dragons. The other races will get all of that. Maybe we get pushed even deeper into the wastelands – I've seen the weapons that could be made with human knowledge. And the just plain new numbers of ponies and griffons and Diamond Dogs and the rest, new ideas and skills and sciences and techniques for doing everything from raising food to fighting to working metal, ugh!” She clenched her fists and looked up, eyes flashing fire. “I will not lose all of that for my people because of some human fool with a grudge!” She leaned against the wall. “One of you, tell me about this human. Can we scare him or make him listen to reason?”

“Listen to reason? Mister James Branson?” Cynthia laughed, soft and cold. “The man's a snake. I remember years ago when he got an immigrant man who'd murdered a friend of mine for putting a curse on him off in court by arguing that even though we all knew better than to believe in curses, this man didn't and it'd be arrogant to punish him for being a poor simpleton from the Third World. The poor simpleton killed a friend of mine a month later because he said she put a curse on him when he worked for her. He boasted about how much trouble he made for the local police with one lawsuit after another, brags about how much he despises 'grubbing after money' while picking everyone around him clean.” Cynthia began snarling. Heated saliva dripped to the floor from her jaws and steamed when it hit. “He's a bloodsucker and a snob who pretends to be some grand champion of the people. He would burn the whole world if it meant he could virtue signal to the ashes. He doesn't care if the clinic is the last thing keeping humanity alive, He'd shut it down if it made him look good today.”

Bram carefully set a hand on Cynthia's wrist. She hissed at him before the anger left her eyes. He gave her a squeeze, arm around waist. Tephra looked jealous. Ember looked unsettled. The agents kept an air of professional unconcern.

“So where is Volcano?” Ember grumbled.

“I imagine he's still at the courthouse,” Bram checked his watch. It was past five. “Which ought to be over for the day. The local courthouse closes at four-thirty. I imagine Volcano and the clinic lawyer will both be here soon.”

As though he'd spoken a spell, a call came through to Agent Kingman. “Yes? Okay, a large dragon just dropped down outside and wants to know what's going on. And some guy in a suit with a briefcase drove up in an old compact and asked the same thing.” He looked around the room. “They said the guy looks like Curly Howard with a fringe.”

“That's the clinic lawyer, all right,” Cynthia said. “Jerry Horowitz.”

Agent Kingman checked his phone again. “They said the dragon wants to know why everyone is standing outside in the cold when it's warmer inside, or is this another human thing that makes no sense?”

“Definitely Volcano,” Bram added.

“It's about time,” Ember pushed her way past them both and headed for the front of the clinic. The Secret Service agents hurried after her.

“Dragon Lord! We have to check those people outside.” Agent Kingman stopped in his track as Ember turned around and faced him. “Your safety is my duty, ma'am – Dragon Lord.” His mouth seemed to twist on that title. Bram wondered just how ridiculous this all felt to him.

“Human,” Ember's voice sounded tightly controlled, like she was on the verge of an explosion of temper. “I have been made to wait for you and your pack every time I so much as set feet to earth today. I have endured enough. I am the Dragon Lord,” she raised her scepter like it was a weapon. “I do not need to be protected like I was a new hatchling. Understood?” Agent Kingman simply stood there, looking as professional as he could. Ember turned and left, heading outside. They all followed after her.

Outside was an even bigger mess now. The protesters were gone, but a crowd had gathered and the single police officer and employees were still there. And so were three large dragons, all of them twenty feet long or more and standing twice a normal human's height when they sat up. Green Jade, crimson Blaze, and Volcano in his gray-streaked rust red scales. All three of the latter were frowning at the Secret Service and FBI agents as they stood around them, both trying to keep the curious onlookers away from the rarely-seen adult dragons where they sat in the street before the clinic and to keep the dragons clear of them. Local cops were there now as well, trying to maneuver post-day shift rush hour traffic around the huge reptiles. They had just enough space to work around them, slowly. The honking of horns and yells coming from the drivers showed how little they appreciated it. To Bram's further dismay, a local TV news team stood close by filming the whole thing. They looked like vultures waiting for a corpse to drop.

"What are they doing here?"

"Three adult Equestrian dragons in this town?" Cynthia shrugged. "They must have seen them flying over, or got called, and wanted to cover whatever excitement was brewing." She frowned. "Ember wants to make it look like Equestrian dragons are civilized beings,” she muttered under her breath. “I just hope she told those three that.”

One driver cut it a bit close to Jade. He yelled several words at her, none of them polite. Jade seemed to ignore him, but as he started driving away her tail smashed across the back bumper of his compact. Metal crunched and plastic broke. He drove off in great hurry, sporting a massive dent.

Jade tilted her head back and gave a smug smile. One of the police officers looked ready to say something, but at a warning head shake from an older officer backed down. The other drivers made sure to swing wide around her and go very slowly. Bram didn't need to look to see that the news crew caught it all.

Ember's voice rose nearby, joined by a prissy-sounding human one with that Bronx accent and the much deeper voice of Volcano. He turned to see Ember talking up to her giant subject. He in turn lowered his head at her and the Bloodstone Scepter. Meanwhile Mister Horowitz stood nearby, waving a bundle of papers from his suitcase. He turned to face both Ember and Volcano, limping slightly.

“Miss Ember, you realize it's not a very smart idea for you to come and put yourself into this case? I mean,” he hurriedly backed away as Ember's bodyguards and Volcano showed fang at him, hands held close like he clutched a string of pearls, “at this point in the trial, it's not likely to go well. Bringing in new character witnesses, I mean. Everything was close to being wrapped up.”

“He means we are about to lose, Dragon Lord,” Volcano rumbled in his slow and deliberate way of speech. Mister Horowitz fidgeted as he added, “The human whelp Branson and his father's lawspeakers are beating us badly.”

“It's a very clear case, your majesty,” Horowitz sounded weak. Ember stood with claws on hips and her lip quivering over her canines. Horowitz gulped, but she just nodded for him to continue. Still looking green about the gills Horowitz said, “Mister Branson's son was injured by Mister Volcano. There were eyewitnesses. Mister Volcano is a representative of the clinic as well as of you. He can't be sued since he's a foreign citizen here as an official Dragonlands representative,” Horowitz took a deep breath, “but the clinic can be. Mister Branson is basically asking for all its assets and he may well force it to close.”

“How can he do that? Sorry,” Bram said as Horowitz, Volcano, and Ember all gave him annoyed looks. “Branson's kid faked a terrorist attack and nearly blinded Volcano. More, it worked as cover for a real attack on the clinic's supply of dragon potions.”

“Just because you're a criminal doesn't mean you can't file a lawsuit,” Horowitz primly noted. “He has the same legal rights as everyone else. And the case is mainly in Mister Branson, Senior's, name. He's not in any legal trouble.”

“Never mind!” Ember snapped, slapping the Bloodstone Scepter into her scaly palm with a loud SMACK! “If Volcano's honor and integrity is being questioned, then so is mine. If it was a duel, I'd fight in it and gladly. I'll talk at this trial tomorrow and settle everything.” She said it like it was that simple.

Bram caught the worried look on the faces on Cynthia, Mister Horowitz, and even Volcano.

Something told him they'd all just made a very big mistake.