by Jodi Meadows
Hristo still slept in front of the cold fireplace, wrapped in the third jacket and all the spare blankets. His hand was elevated on a backpack, but sweat poured down his face and his skin was leached of color.
He needed help. Even I, with my fading vision, could see that.
Chenda and Gerel hunched over a pile of plants, organizing them by some system I couldn’t discern. The scent of herbs was overpowering, enough to make me stagger.
“We brought dinner,” announced Ilina. She transferred Crystal to a window and began showing off the game we’d collected.
From the washroom, the whoosh of water gushing into the metal tub made everyone look up. Aaru emerged, his hands dark with soot and rust. A faint smile pulled at his mouth.
It was then I collapsed.
AARU
Five Years Ago
The Book of Silence WAS DECEPTIVELY HEAVY.
Strangers to it often assumed that Idris was quite wordy, considering he was the god of silence, but the truth was that many pages were blank.
Or contained but a few words of wisdom.
These pages allowed the reader time to pause. To reflect. To deeply consider the previous passage.
They were silence incarnate.
In the time it took to turn the page, one might come to a new appreciation for the quiet in their own mind, or a new understanding of the Most Silent.
That, above all, was what Father said we should pray for.
Like a good Idrisi boy, I read The Book of Silence every day. And though I was not a fast reader, I usually finished the entire book once a month. I’d lost count of how many times I’d read it.
It was because of my multiple readings that I began to wonder:
Why did the leaders of Grace Community focus on certain pieces of Idris’s word every decan? The importance of a few strong voices, bolstered by the righteousness and attentive silence of others. The strength earned by enduring hardships. The superiority of men and the Silent Brothers.
Why were those passages given more weight than others? Such as the duty to consider words carefully. The loveliness of a kind voice. The understanding that silence could be wielded as a weapon—but should not be.
Why did we give more attention to the passages detailing when we should not speak, and no attention to those discussing when we should?
I wanted to ask Father, but I already knew what he would say: it was not for me to question wiser men.
And so I buried my questions under layer after layer of silence, as though I could smother them into nonexistence. But still, I wondered:
When could silence become harmful?
CHAPTER FIVE
I DREAMED OF FLYING.
Of great wings and burning stars.
I AWAKENED IN the middle of Gerel stitching my skin back together.
It was an unsettling sensation, but it hurt less than the actual cut, so I clenched my jaw and counted floorboards (seventeen), thumps of a wooden spoon on the sides of a pot (fourteen), and taps of a tree branch against the cabin (twenty-two).
Three long seconds of thunder as it rumbled in the distance. Heralding the storm, the air felt cooler, stiller, and charged with lightning.
“That’s it.” Gerel clipped the end of the silk thread and dropped the needle into a bowl of boiling water.
“How many stitches?” My voice was groggy.
“Just five.” Gerel took a glob of green slime and smeared it onto the cut, then covered it with a bandage. The paste smelled sharply of anise and several other kinds of herbs I couldn’t identify. “This will prevent the wound from getting infected. Chenda and I made it for Hristo, but some people just don’t like being left out, do they?”
“Sorry.” I sat up, my left shoulder throbbing with the effort. But finally, I got a look around. Ilina was stirring a pot hanging from a hook on the fire. The aroma of cooking rabbit filled the room, lifting my gnawing hunger to a desperate need for food.
Hristo was still sleeping, but he looked better now. Less sweaty. Less anguished. They’d probably washed him and given him something for the pain as well. The bandages around his hand looked clean, so the bleeding must have stopped.
On the other side of the room, Chenda and Aaru sorted through the supplies, not speaking but still companionable. And in the windows, LaLa and Crystal spread their wings into the night air as though bathing in the sharp moments before the rain hit. Their necks stretched long and their faces turned up. Sparks danced between LaLa’s teeth as somewhere in the distance, lightning flared.
A few seconds later, thunder rumbled through the little cabin, making everyone pause. “Good thing we got here when we did,” Ilina said when the quiet returned.
Gerel grunted in the affirmative, then looked at me. “Why didn’t you say you were hurt?”
“You said you didn’t want to hear about injuries that weren’t life-threatening.”
She gave a deep sigh and kicked the medical kit toward Chenda. “I’m finished with this.” Then she marched into the washroom. The gush of water followed a loud screech from the pump, and when she came back, she was drying her hands on her trousers. “You could have died, Fancy.”
“I was trying to follow orders.”
Almost invisibly, Aaru slipped into the unoccupied washroom.
“You could have died if that cut had festered more. You lost a good bit of blood, which is probably why you were so dizzy, but you’ll get it back in no time. I’ll give you a smaller dose of the same things I’m giving Hristo. He lost a lot of blood.”
“I have more than enough blood.” Ilina glanced up from the boiling soup. “Can I give Hristo some of mine? Is that possible?”
“It’s been tried.” I gazed down at Hristo, wishing there was more we could do for him. Wishing he’d never been in this position to begin with. “Giving blood has saved a few people, but it’s killed even more. They get fevers, chills, hives: all kinds of problems. No one’s really sure why, because blood is blood, but even attempting transfers is banned on all seven islands, at least until there’s better research on how to make it safe.”
Firelight shimmered gold over the warm brown of Ilina’s face as she dropped her eyes to our sleeping friend. “Let’s not try it, then. I can’t bear the thought of losing him.”
“He’s going to live,” said Gerel. “At least, I’m reasonably sure. I’m worried about his hand, though. Without a real doctor, he might not be able to use it anymore.”
Ilina made a small, anguished noise.
Gerel shook her head. “Sorry. There’s not a delicate way to say it. He almost lost the whole thing. He’s lucky.”
“I doubt he feels that way,” Ilina said.
“You can ask him when he wakes up.” Gerel gazed at her patient. “If we can get him to a doctor soon, maybe they’ll be able to give him better odds.”
Then we would get him to a doctor.
Another crash of thunder shuddered through the cabin, making Crystal and LaLa bounce on their perches, trilling happily. Hopefully the approaching storm wouldn’t delay us too long.
“At any rate,” Gerel went on, “there’s no reason to go around offering people your blood. At least not right now.”
Chenda raised an eyebrow in my direction. “How do you know these things?”
“My doctor likes to talk,” I said, “and I don’t forget things that could potentially kill me.”
The copper tattoos on her face twisted with her confused frown. “That isn’t normal, Mira.”
“You aren’t the first person to say that about me.” I watched as Aaru emerged from the washroom, his face scrubbed clean of dirt and sweat. When our eyes met, he smiled. Just a little. But when his gaze darted off my cheek, the one with the scar, I couldn’t find it in me to smile back.
“I’m sure I won’t be the last,” Chenda said, just as a log popped in the fire, making shadows leap. They bent strangely around her, like light through a curved glass, but when she caught me noticing, everything snapped back to
normal. She winked and touched her lips.
“I see we have a fire.” I turned back to Gerel. “What made you change your mind?”
She shrugged. “Now that clouds have covered the moons, the smoke won’t be as visible. Warriors might be able to smell it, though, so we can’t leave it going for long. But we needed to cook. Chenda looked hungry, and I heard she eats shadows.”
Chenda threw a small noorestone at her.
“Speaking of cooking”—Gerel looked pointedly at Ilina—“is the soup ready?”
Ilina nodded and began ladling portions into bowls. “Should we wake Hristo to eat?”
Gerel shook her head and accepted the first bowl. “He needs rest more than he needs soup. After the sedatives I gave him, I’m not sure he could even stay awake for more than a mouthful.”
Everyone took the offered bowls. I inhaled the steam from mine, testing the heat before I sipped. It was thin, but someone—Ilina, presumably—had tried to make it interesting by adding wild peppers and ginger. The shredded rabbit was tender, melting on my tongue, and it helped clear the fog from my thoughts.
“We should wash the blood out of our clothes before we leave.” I sipped again, another tiny mouthful of returning strength. “I don’t want to attract predators.”
“Do you even know how to wash clothes?” Ilina smirked, but not in an unfriendly way.
“I do now. Tirta taught me.” The thought of her stung; I’d truly believed she was a friend, always helping me and showing me how to accomplish simple tasks I’d never learned as a child. But now . . .
“Oh.” Ilina frowned.
“We don’t have anything to change into,” Chenda said. “Gerel and I acquired a few supplies, but not clothes.”
“What did you get?” Ilina asked.
“Bottles for transporting water. A tent. Arrows. Small packets of rice flour. More backpacks. And shoes.”
Shoes would be amazing. The slippers I’d been wearing since Bopha were tattered and torn, and while I didn’t know where we were going next, it was clear I’d need real shoes to get me there.
But at that last item, Aaru looked up, and suddenly I realized that he was barefoot. Had been this whole time. Guilt wormed through me. My first concern had been for myself, not my neighbors. Aaru had not only escaped the Pit without shoes, but hiked through the woods for hours—mostly alone—like that.
All this after Altan had tortured him with noorestones altered to flood heat into him. One of those noorestones had shattered, slashing open the bottoms of his feet.
Shame made my throat and cheeks ache, especially when I realized no one—not even I—had included him in the conversation. Aaru was an outsider in our group, made that way by the absence of his voice. I would interpret. Of course I would. But the knowledge of that requirement seemed to force him even more silent than before.
I had to do better.
“Aaru—” Thunder drowned my voice and no one heard me.
“Where did you get all these things?” Ilina drained her bowl.
“Gerel stole them.” Chenda smiled at Gerel, whose perpetual glower deepened.
“It’s dishonorable to steal,” Gerel added, “and Khulan might not forgive me. But I already tried to destroy my people’s holiest temple, so stealing a few supplies seems rather inconsequential at this point.”
Ilina snorted. “I’d say so.”
I finished my soup and climbed to my feet, careful in case the dizziness came back. While the others continued their conversation, I put my bowl next to Ilina’s, wandered in and out of the washroom as though I had business in there, then took LaLa from the window. She settled onto my shoulder, mindful of her razor scales near my exposed neck.
When I’d sufficiently moved around the cabin enough so no one would suspect I’d gotten up for one purpose, I sat next to Aaru, careful to keep him on my right side. Opposite the side with the hideous scar—my burning shame.
I stroked LaLa’s nose, moving with the scales. “Hello, sweet lizard.”
Her tongue flicked out, tasting my skin, and for a moment she held her mouth slightly agape.
“Silly dragon,” I whispered. Just being close to her made me feel better.
Aaru’s face was dark with shadow, lit only around the edges where noorestone and firelight touched the curves of his forehead and cheek and jaw. He lifted a heavy eyebrow before nodding at LaLa. ::Why?::
“She’s holding a scent or taste near her spark gland. Certain odors make the gland tingle, and it must feel good.” I petted LaLa’s head again. “It looks really silly though, especially on the bigger species. I don’t think they realize. They’re such proud creatures.”
::You know a lot about dragons.::
“I’ve never loved anything so much.” I dropped my eyes, a hot flush pushing up my throat and cheeks. “That’s not a very Daminan thing to admit.”
::Honest thing.:: He watched LaLa as she nosed through the loose strands of my hair, shaking out noorestone dust that had been trapped there since the explosion. As the cloud of light rose around us, she extended her right wing to catch particles until her scales shimmered.
She looked at me questioningly.
“Very pretty,” I confirmed. “You’re the prettiest dragon I know.”
She trilled and hopped onto my lap to lick the noorestone dust off her wing. Some scholars believed dragons could understand basic human language if they were exposed long enough, like dogs could be taught to come or sit or stay, but skeptics maintained that any appearance of understanding was purely a combination of tone, rewards, and the speaker’s imagination.
No one had ever asked me which side I fell on, but if my time with LaLa and Crystal had taught me anything, it was that dragons were far cleverer than humans gave them credit for.
Aaru was still watching LaLa with open amusement and admiration, and on the far side of the room, the others began discussing supplies and how to arrange for everyone to wash their clothes—and themselves.
I switched to the quiet code, tapping against the floor between Aaru and me. ::I was afraid you weren’t coming back. Before.::
He looked at me askance. ::Of course I came back.::
Because where else would he go? Right.
I exhaled a deep sigh of relief. ::You were gone longer than I expected.::
::Warriors pursued. Had to follow the stream before I could look for you. Then I was lost.::
We should never have let him go off alone.
::Big forest.:: He lifted his eyes toward the sky. ::Wandered for an hour, maybe more, but your dragon found me. She guided me to you.::
I stroked the top of LaLa’s head. ::I’m glad.::
::Me too.:: Tension drained from his muscles as he regarded me with those dark eyes. Neither of us moved, and I allowed myself to study the contours of his face. His heavy eyebrows. His strong cheekbones. His wide nose. His sharp jaw. His full lips that were turned up just so, not in amusement, but in a way that suggested this was just his neutral expression. Pleasant.
Gerel lurched to her feet. “I’m going to set a couple of traps to alert us if anyone’s coming,” she announced. “Wash off. Clean your clothes. Do all the things you dreamed of doing. Then put out the fire, but keep Hristo warm.”
“Do we have soap?” I asked.
::There’s a bar.::
“Thank the seven.” I couldn’t stand the thought of wearing this dress anymore, not when it was covered in Hristo’s blood, my own blood, and even Altan’s blood. Everything felt sticky and stiff. “I don’t think I’ve felt this gross in my whole life.”
“Certainly not since I’ve known you.” Gerel smirked, and with that, she was out the door, her movements strong and easy, as though she hadn’t been trapped in a small cell for the last year. Did it feel strange for her? She’d believed she would never leave the Pit, but she’d assumed command as quickly as she’d arrived, saving Hristo’s life and getting all of us to this cabin.
Maybe I’d spend my whole life wishing I cou
ld be more like Gerel.
Stronger. Braver. Always certain of my actions.
Instead, I was just Mira. And while I was certain trying to free my friends from the Pit had been the right thing, there’d probably been a better way to do it—one that wouldn’t have gotten Ilina and Hristo imprisoned as well. One that wouldn’t have gotten Hristo hurt.
Thunder boomed, rattling the cabin.
“Do you want to go first?” Ilina took Chenda’s bowl and put it aside.
“A cold bath isn’t very appealing,” said Chenda, but she rolled onto the balls of her feet and drew herself up, because a cold bath was better than no bath.
“I have an idea how to heat the water.” Ilina held up her hand and clicked.
Crystal launched herself off the windowsill and landed on Ilina’s fingers. She chirruped and bumped Ilina’s chin with hers before settling down with her silver wings forming a small tent around her body.
It wasn’t long before four humans and two dragons were crowded in the washroom, with LaLa and Crystal perched on the rim of the tub. The dragons blew fire against the metal while Aaru pressed the lever until water gushed out and hit the slope of the tub with a loud hiss.
Ilina and I cheered. The water might not end up hot, but it would be better than the frigid flow coming from the pump.
“Wash your clothes, too,” said Ilina. “I’ll grab a blanket from the other room for you to wear while your clothes dry.”
Because the Daminans or Bophan here might not care so much about nudity in this small group, but the Idrisi definitely would.
We left five noorestones in the washroom for Chenda, then headed into the main room once more. LaLa and Crystal came with us, perched on our shoulders and purring with satisfaction.
::Do they mind?:: Aaru asked. ::Heating the water, I mean. Must make them tired.::
A smile bubbled out of me. “They don’t mind. Healthy dragons breathe fire several times a day, and we’re just giving them something useful to do with it.” But it meant so much that he even considered LaLa and Crystal’s feelings. Most people wouldn’t. Most people would see them as creatures beneath their notice, because they were only Drakontos raptuses, not something more impressive like titanuses or rexes.
