Thoroughly imagined and compellingly written, Dragon's Treasure, the second of the two books in Elizabeth A. Lynn's Dragon series, is nearly as dark and violent as the first book, Dragon's Winter. Dragon's Treasure is told from the viewpoint of several main characters, but everything centers around the crimes committed by Treion Unamira, who is likely the step brother of the Dragon prince, and his band of marauding thieves as they kill, burn, and pillage. One of Treion’s men viciously tortures a young boy to death, only one of many crimes that keep him and his men on the run.
Karadur, the Dragon prince, and the man he loves, the singer Azil, play key parts in this book, as does Shem Wolfson, the young wolf changeling orphaned in the first book. New villains, in addition to Treion, are introduced, as is Maia, Treion's half-sister and a potential rival for Karadur's affections. Other, secondary characters from Dragon's Winter play larger roles in this one, such as Rogys, the red-headed soldier who loves Karadur from afar, and Lorimer, the captain of Karadur's forces.
Lynn, in an obscure blog post to a fan, has indicated that there won't be any more books in the Dragon series. But reading Dragon's Treasure, which introduces a rich variety of cultures, principalities, and mythic belief systems, all described in concrete detail, I get the impression Lynn might have considered a third book at some point. It's a bit frustrating.
By analogy, there's a painting by Rembrandt in the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, called "Artist in His Studio." It's a fine painting, but there's an old black and white photograph of it that shows what we're missing. The painting on exhibit feels tight and cramped for Rembrandt, who was a master of composition. In the photo, we see a much bigger canvas. As soon as I saw the photo of the original, my body and mind relaxed into the perfect pictorial logic of what Rembrandt intended. At some point, some brute cut off the top portion of the painting, and the remnant that we're left teases us with an experience we'll never have.
Reading Dragon's Treasure is like looking at Rembrandt's cut-down painting. It teases us with a rich tapestry of stories we'll never get. Lynn's is a powerful, imaginative voice, and, without a third book, it feels as if it's been cut off and silenced, a thought only partially formed.
That said, everything I wrote in my review of the first book applies to this one. Operatic themes of intense emotion and loss, of jealousy, greed and betrayal, thread through the daily lives of its characters. Despite the dark story, Lynn attempts to stand Dragon's Treasure in a Hegelian opposition to Dragon's Winter, and, by the end, also tries to give us an aufheben, a potentially transcendent new beginning after so much tragedy. Perhaps if there had been a third book this attempt might have worked. But as it is, there's little humane or redemptive in Dragon's Treasure; at most, they are hinted at, but never made a reality.