XXIX
Lucan stood on a platform in front of two thousand people with a microphone in his hand.
He was in a cathedral with a tall, sloping ceiling. A massive pipe organ took up the entire wall behind him, and the air smelled like wax and burned-out candles.
The crowd, who had been quiet since he took the stage, hung on his every word.
He’d had a hard time reading them at first. Not because they were in a church that just four years ago had supported the governor, but because his head reeled from his meeting with Ennius. The dragon had hit him hard, and he couldn’t see straight for an hour afterward.
The crowd rustled, and his head spun again.
Whispers spread through the mass of people like electricity.
Push through it, Lucan told himself. Don’t let a dragon throw you off.
He leaned a
