Dragon's Den exerpt...

CHAPTER 1

T'PANABAR, world of ice, isolation, and intrigue.
     Raza propped his backside against a sturdy metal railing and then lazily crossed his arms at his chest. Temple masters were not usually sent to greet transports. However, the occupants of this particular incoming vessel fell far outside the range of business as usual. And Raza never passed up an opportunity to visit the planet's only city, Karatoura.
     He exhaled an impatient sigh and tried to see through the metallic latticework that supported the spaceport's forty-story glass-like dome. A permanent skin of ice coated the exterior while moisture clung to the interior. Between the two, all Raza could make out of nearby Karatoura to the west was a fuzzy jumble of color. A faint mechanical tinkling echoed through the interior, as sleet once again peppered the dome. The spaceport was like a gigantic terrarium. Hundreds of shelf planters, placed throughout the port's many levels, were fed by special lights. Fragrant, flowering vines trailed over the walls and worked tirelessly to convert carbon dioxide into oxygen, resulting in more vines, more flowers. The air was an oxygen-rich discordant mixture of flora and space age civilization.
     The planet T'Panabar was midway through its cyclic five-thousand year ice age. Even at this equatorial latitude, the temperature did not rise above freezing until midday. Then, as soon as the sun set each evening, the landscape crystallized into a frozen wasteland that could be crossed only in space-worthy transports.
     Raza narrowed his eyes and tried to determine whether the dusk had arrived. The sleet suggested that official sunset had not yet occurred beyond a heavy quilt of storm clouds. He could not remember the last time he had a good view of Mekara, the solar system's reddish-gold sun that also warmed his home planet. Nor when he had last seen Merrerra, the blue-violet and magenta banded gas giant that occupied the orbit just inside of T'Panabar.
     In many ways, Raza considered T'Panabar a cage of ice. Too long it had kept him from the verdant landscapes and bustling cities of his native Eshkara, the primary world of the powerful Eshkalle who ruled the solar system. It had been three years since he had been home. Three years since accepting a teaching position at Talakara Temple, which translated from the old Tarman dialect meant "Dragon's Den."
     It was a prestigious and coveted assignment. The Rejer, himself, had offered the job to Raza. How does one say no to the elected Prince Dragon of the Toa Kara, the leader of the Council of Lords and military commander of the Sooran Guard? It was a great honor to be chosen and a boon for House Kalandyn. Therefore, Karazamon "Raza" Toa Kalandyn had graciously accepted a five-year position as Master of Martial Arts at Talakara Temple on T'Panabar. Since then, he had been counting the days until he could go home.
     He glanced at a bank of digital clocks on a nearby slab-rock wall. If the transport were on time, and generally they were, it would arrive soon. He rolled his shoulders, giving his stiff muscles a short stretch, and then settled more comfortably against the railing.
     The interior of the spaceport was segmented into staggered mezzanines that accommodated the transport bays in the lower sections and offices in the upper levels. The building was a city-sized half-sphere with a wide flange ringing the outside at ground level. All but one quarter of the outside ring was transport hangers and cargo holds. The northern quarter was designed for small planetary shuttles and pedestrian traffic. Not that many people actually walked from the spaceport to the city, especially not after sunset, but the layout was standard and would serve well when T'Panabar moved into its warmer cycle in about a thousand years.
     After being cooped up in the underground temple for nearly three years, the spaceport felt almost spacious. Almost. However, his presence in the main terminal was creating a bit of consternation among both travelers and port employees. He was clothed head to foot in basic black. Supple leather boots were tucked into fitted, denim trousers. A matching denim tunic was cinched at the waist by a trim utility belt, replete with compact devices. And a silken hood covered everything except his eyes. The hood signified he was a member of the Sooran Guard, the elite warrior class of the temples.
     Being a Sooran was not what he knew disturbed people. No, it was the fact that the hood kept them from determining whether he was Tem Eshkalle or Toa Eshkalle. Was he human? Or was he dragon? In short, the hood kept passersby from seeing if he had fangs. He did. Very prominent fangs, as a matter of fact. All dragons from House Kalandyn had half-inch long, finely grained canines. However, there was more to being born a dragon-Eshkalle than the display of fangs, which sometimes manifested in non-dragons simply by reason of junk DNA. Fangs were merely an indicator that the person's spirit could be dragon. Dragons lived nearly seven times longer than their human counterparts. Sometimes more, depending on the dragon. Although true dragon spirits were limited in number, those few had seized power over the Eshkalle Empire many of years ago. They were known as the Toa Kara, the "Watcher Dragons" who ruled the solar system.
     A family of six, both parents and four children, sat on cushioned benches behind the railing where Raza had propped himself. He sensed their presence, intuited their movements, read their emotions, and overheard their fleeting surface thoughts. With clairvoyant prowess beyond even many Toa Kara, he gleaned that the parents were wealthy Tem-Eshkalle merchants on vacation from Rodicus Province on Eshkara. Raza knew the mother and oldest daughter felt the sexual attraction of his pheromones, and sensed the father becoming more irritated by the minute. However, the youngest child, a boy of about six years, was lured to him like an insect to a bowl of sugar.
     The one beneficial aspect of the damnable hood was it dulled his sense of smell just enough to make the presence of humans tolerable. There was something acrid about non-dragons, something in their hormonal make-up that made his teeth itch.
     Raza slowly turned his head to the right and made eye contact with the boy, who now hung within reach on the inside of the railing. Big, gold eyes looked up from a cherubic face framed by thick brown hair. He knew what the boy was thinking. He knew what the child wanted.
     Beneath the hood, Raza smiled. Then he dipped his head toward the boy's sweet face and issued a deep, resonant growl.
     Staggered gasps erupted from the benches behind him, but the boy gave a face-splitting grin.
     The father snapped his fingers. "Sarja, get back here! Leave the master alone."
     "Yes, papa," the little boy replied half-heartedly. He climbed down and with noisy footsteps scampered back to his mother.
     "Don't you have anything better to do than scare children?"
     Startled, Raza looked up into the pale green eyes of Master Dennakaraz Toa Evannen, head of the garrison that policed Karatoura and its adjacent spaceport. Denna's eyes shone in bright contrast to the silken black hood covering his head.
     Raza was both pleased and surprised to see his old friend. "What brings you out of your hole?"
     Denna pointed toward a blurry row of blue lights that filled the southern horizon beyond the dome. "That's your incoming. Escort them directly to my office."
     "Your office?"
     "See you in a few minutes." Denna gave Raza's shoulder a friendly slap. Then in fluid motion he turned and walked toward one of the many sets of metallic escalators.
     Raza ran his tongue over the point of his left fang. This was an interesting twist. He glanced at the nearest digital display and saw the transport notice: Eshkara-495378 arriving at hangar 12....