A Natural History of Dragons: A Memoir by Lady Trent

by Marie Brennan

  The priest did not like it, but Jacob and I stood firm, with Mr. Wilker’s support; I rather thought the latter less than eager to expose himself to the locals, either. Finally it was agreed that the villagers would be sent away, except for a few assistants; these would help Menkem bathe Astimir and my two companions, after which Jacob and Dagmira would bathe me under cover of one of our tents.

  I accordingly gave them their privacy. Unfortunately, this left me to sit alone on a line of barrels with Dagmira, who glared at me. “You bring trouble.”

  Several possible responses rose to my tongue, all of them defensive. Menkem’s story had placed a worm of doubt in my heart, though, and it gave me pause. Even without evil spirits in the picture, we were a disruption to this village.

  For a good cause, of course; despite our awkward start, we had gathered a great deal of valuable information, ranging from simple matters like a reliable description of a mating flight to my observation of the tiny valves in the wing membrane.

  But what did that matter to Dagmira? It would bring us acclaim in Scirland—well, it would bring the gentlemen acclaim, once they presented our findings to the Philosophers’ Colloquium—and, of course, I had the satisfaction of the scholar, uncovering things never before known to man. That meant nothing in Drustanev, though.

  They had our coin, I told myself; Lord Hilford had paid for any number of things in the course of arranging this expedition. Much of that, though, had gone to the missing Gritelkin, and this boyar above him. Was what remained sufficient compensation for all the disruption our presence caused?

  These thoughts had occupied me long enough in silence that Dagmira made a disgusted noise and looked away. She turned back, however, when I said in a small voice, “I am sorry.”

  The surprise in her eyes would have made me laugh, had I been feeling less low. “What we’re doing—well, I tell myself it is for the benefit of all mankind, and I do believe that’s true. But the benefit to you is very distant, I must admit. Is there something that could make it better? Should I tell Lord Hilford to distribute more payment?”

  The offer produced a wealth of conflicting reactions in her face, less than half of them positive. Finally Dagmira said bluntly, “Get rid of the dragons.”

  “Get rid of them!” I shot to my feet, appalled.

  She flung one impatient hand at the sky. “They eat our sheep, attack the shepherds—what good do they do us?”

  All my childhood obsession with dragons welled up in my throat, choking me. “But they’re—they’re—” I was not capable of having this conversation in Vystrani, where my vocabulary lacked the word for “magnificent.” Perhaps it was for the best; the struggle to convey my meaning gave my brain time to catch up. Beauty and splendor are all very well, but they put no food on the table for a mountain peasant, nor do they keep the house warm in winter.

  But I could hardly commit myself to their eradication, either. Suddenly fierce, I said, “I cannot do anything about the sheep; dragons must eat, just as wolves and bears and humans must. But we will find out what is making them attack the shepherds, and put a stop to it. That is one thing our science can do for you.”

  It was the same promise I had made Chatzkel during my night with the smugglers, and I had yet to fulfill it. But my words then had been driven by a desire to get away safely. This time, my motivation was quite the reverse; I did not want to go anywhere. Not when going would mean admitting defeat, and abandoning these people to further attacks, further deaths.

  And so my promise carried a silent echo: I would not leave until I had made good on my word.

  Even if it meant freezing to death in a Vystrani winter.

  By the pursing of her lips, Dagmira was less than entirely confident, but she accepted it with a grudging nod. “That would help.”

  As would laying their minds to rest on the matter of this curse, whether it was superstition or not. Jacob came, wet-haired and irritable, to summon me, and together we went back to the stream, where one of our tents had been pitched across the flow.

  It was not large enough that I could stand anywhere both sheltered and dry. Mouth set tight, I took off my shoes and stockings, drew a deep breath, and waded in.

  The first touch of water against my bare foot was enough to persuade me that the sauna was a splendid device when the alternative was this frigid stream. It only got worse as I went deeper, my skirts plastering themselves against my calves like clammy hands, and my toes going numb enough to render my footing uncertain. I counted my blessings, though; the stream here was barely deep enough to submerge me lying down, and rose no higher than my knees while standing.

  I ducked into the tent, crouching to fit under the stretched canvas. Dagmira followed me, and Jacob stood outside to receive my clothing. I would have preferred it the other way about, but Menkem insisted; we Scirlings were all heretics, after all, and could not be trusted to do the thing right.

  Any shyness I might have felt was vanquished by my desire to finish this quickly. I stripped off dress, petticoat, stays, and shift in record time, while Menkem prayed outside. Dagmira stopped me, though, as I steeled myself to descend into the water. “Your hair,” she said.

  “What of it?” I snapped, my teeth chattering. Goose pimples had sprung up all over, until my skin felt as pebbly as a dragon’s.

  “The water must touch everything,” she said, turning me about so she could drag the pins from my hair. It tumbled over my shoulders, a warm touch I was sorely reluctant to ruin. But delay only made things worse, and so the moment Dagmira’s fingers finished their rough combing, I sucked in a deep breath and dropped.

  The sheer, appalling shock of it caused me to lose most of that air an instant later. I think I yelled, though I cannot be sure. I know I surged partway up again, only to be met by Dagmira’s hand, mercilessly forcing me back down. By then I had very little air, but rationality had managed to recover enough that I knew I needed to last only a few moments.

  Without warning, a foot planted itself against my ribs, driving me against the hard rocks and slimy mud of the stream’s bed. I clawed at it, and Dagmira caught my hands—no, just my right hand, and she was prying at my fingers. I would have screamed at her if my head weren’t underwater. Just before I could be certain she was trying to murder me, though, I realized what she was after: my wedding ring. The water had to touch everything.

  That ring had not been off my finger since Jacob placed it there. But right then, it was standing between me and the chance to breathe again; I did not think he would begrudge its brief absence. I let Dagmira take the ring, and dropped my arms beneath the water again.

  Her foot vanished, and a moment later, when I truly could not stay down any longer, I floundered to the surface. Air, blessed air, rushed into my lungs. Then Dagmira helped me to my feet. I needed the aid; every part of me seemed to have gone numb, and I was shaking so badly that I surely would have fallen.

  The clothing Jacob thrust into the tent was not my own. I could not have gotten such closely tailored garments on just then, and they had all gotten soaked besides. The robe Dagmira flung over my head was soon the same way, but it was thick wool, warm even when wet. She then helped me from the tent and back up onto shore, where Menkem finished his prayers with the holy gesture.

  At that moment, I did not care in the slightest what spiritual benefit I might have gained from the exercise. I was in sunlight, and no longer in the stream—all to the good—but the wind cut like a knife. The sooner I got indoors, the better. I stumbled badly, trying to walk, until Jacob took the simple expedient of picking me up and carrying me onward. “You d-d-d-on’t have to do that,” I said, my chattering teeth contradicting my body, which was more than glad to curl up against his chest.

  I felt the quick jerk of his laugh. “Nonsense. Carrying you helps warm me up. We both benefit.”

  Who could argue with that?

  My wet hair was the worst, holding the chill long after my body had started to recover. Jacob and I huddled un
der the blankets in our bed until I had stopped shaking; then he went out again. I remained there a while longer, feeling like a small child in winter, reluctant to leave my cocoon. Finally I forced myself out, pinned my hair up in a messy knot that at least would not freeze my back, and went downstairs.

  Jacob came through the front door as I did. “Wilker and Menkem are off, with Astimir to guide them,” he said, to my questioning look. “Astimir has been to the boyar’s lodge before, and knows the way. I will give the priest this much; when I pointed out that Lord Hilford would be on his way back by the time Wilker caught him, and then it would be days yet before they got back here, he immediately insisted on going with them.” Jacob snorted with quiet laughter. “I should like to be there to see Hilford’s expression, when Wilker tells him he must be dunked in a mountain stream.”

  Lord Hilford was not a religious man; he joined us in our studies on Sabbath night, but only because he would spend the night reading anyway. But I hoped, with the superstitious chill that had been plaguing me since the previous night, that he would cooperate.

  “Will they be safe?” I asked, rubbing my arms for warmth. “I don’t mean this Zhagrit Mat business—well, that, too—but from the dragons.”

  “They’re armed,” Jacob said, “and know to keep an eye out. It’s as safe as they can be, short of hiding indoors.”

  He had a point. There had been no trouble in the village—perhaps because there were so many people; predators often prefer lone prey—but anyone who ventured beyond its boundaries was at risk. Mr. Wilker was likely safer than if he were going out with Jacob for research.

  I was selfishly glad my husband would not be leaving the village. And yet, how could we answer our questions, and fulfill my promises to Dagmira and Chatzkel, without risking ourselves in the field? We would have to dare it eventually. And as much as I wished to pretend otherwise, we had to do it soon.

  SIXTEEN

  Idle hands — An odd circle — Plans for investigation — Dagmira’s family

  With both of the other gentlemen gone, Jacob was at loose ends. He tried to talk to the villagers, but none of them wanted to come near him until they knew whether the evil of Zhagrit Mat had been banished. Back home in Pasterway, he would have passed the time answering his correspondence; but the difficulty of receiving mail in Drustanev meant no one was writing to us. I recognized the signs of frustrated idleness, and took steps to mitigate them.

  I had, as originally advertised, been filing the gentlemen’s notes. It was a more haphazard affair than I would have liked, though, because I had never done such work before, and had no system. Together Jacob and I went through the pages, discussing what we had learned, and writing fair copy of many things that had been jotted down in a messy scrawl.

  It was tedious work, but at the same time, it gave me a deep, wordless pleasure. I remembered the naive girl that had stood in the king’s menagerie, never dreaming that Jacob Camherst would become her husband, but hoping he would be her friend. My naivete had been vindicated; we were friends now, in what I thought of (at the time) as a queerly masculine way. Ladies did not have these sorts of conversations, speculating as to how the daytime torpor and winter hibernation of rock-wyrms allowed those enormous predators to survive without eating everything in sight—not with each other, nor with gentlemen either, who were not supposed to tax our minds with such weighty matters.

  The Manda Lewises of the world will say that is not love, at least not of a romantic kind. I will grant that it certainly is not the sort one finds in plays and sensational novels—but that sort always seems to be causing trouble for everyone involved, and the occasional innocent bystander. (I thought so then, and I think so even more now, having seen that very principle in action.) I argue, to the contrary of Manda and her ilk, that such a deep and pleasant rapport is love, the common thread that may link friends and relations and spouses; and furthermore, the mightiest torrent of passion, without that thread woven into it, is mere animal lust.

  Such were the thoughts filling the depths of my mind, while the surface occupied itself noting down changes on our map. Many of the lairs marked by the smugglers had proved to be abandoned; Jacob and Mr. Wilker, in the course of their explorations, had found a handful more with new inhabitants within. Clearly the dragons had moved house … but why?

  I scowled down at the paper, for I had not thought to provide for alterations when I made my marks, overwriting Jacob’s hasty pencil scratches in more careful ink. Finally I blacked out the X’s of empty lairs until they were solid squares, and drew new X’s where Jacob said they had found dragons unexpectedly in residence. “I should like to know how long ago they started migrating—and where the rest of them have migrated to,” I said, and he murmured in agreement.

  My eye drifted over the revised map. If migration was occurring, I wondered whether there might be an underlying pattern—a certain distance traveled, or a certain direction—which would help us understand the process, and to find the remainder of the dragons.

  I did not see an answer to that question. But I saw something else.

  My finger traced an arc of lairs, curving around from east to south. It continued, with interruptions, through the west and north, with a diameter of several miles. Not a perfect circle, but …

  “Jacob,” I said, “what’s here?”

  He leaned over to see where my fingertip rested, in the center of that circle. The map there was blank—entirely without lairs, so far as we had recorded. “There? Let’s see—that’s past the ravine…” He shrugged. “Nothing in particular, that I can think of.”

  “You’ve been in there?”

  “Not yet,” he said. “Those lairs you just marked are the farthest Wilker and I have been; it’s a fair hike, getting up there.”

  “So there could be something there, that you haven’t seen?”

  Jacob sat back, frowning at me. “Such as what? I’ll grant you it looks oddly regular, but our map is hardly perfect; some of our distances are wrong, and I’m sure we don’t have all the lairs. There might be one right in the middle of that apparent circle.”

  “Which is one possible answer to your question,” I pointed out. “We think that rock-wyrms are solitary, coming together only to mate, and that they have no hierarchy amongst themselves. What if we’re wrong? There might be some kind of … oh, queen dragon lairing there, and all the others keep their distance.”

  “Or it could be there are no suitable caves there.”

  A fair point; the reason rock-wyrms are found in clusters, and fly such distances to hunt, is because not all parts of the Vystrani highlands have caves that meet the dragons’ needs. But that circle seemed so very regular. Could it possibly be an accident?

  (The answer, by the way, is yes. In this case it proved not to be, but such things happen all the time, when one’s data is as scanty as ours was. The human mind is very good at imagining patterns where none truly exist. If you are reading this book because you have an interest in pursuing a science, whether natural history or some other, bear that warning in mind. It will save you a great deal of humiliation—I speak from experience. But that is a tale for a later book.)

  I had enough sense to know I should not leap to conclusions. In fact, there was only one sensible way to proceed. “We must go and look.”

  Jacob’s eyebrows rose at the word “we.” “This is where I remind you that it will be at least four days, more likely five, before Wilker and Hilford return.”

  I gave him my most charming smile, and the reply he knew was coming. “And where I suggest that we need not wait for them.”

  “Isabella…”

  “You took me on the hunt.”

  “Because it would have been inefficient to lug a dragon’s carcass all the way back here for you to draw. And the attacks are coming more and more often.”

  “The fact remains that you took me,” I pointed out. “The dangers were no less simply because you had reason. And you have reason now, too: it will be four d
ays, more likely five, before Mr. Wilker and Lord Hilford return, which is four or five days wasted—not to mention four or five days in which the dragons might grow even more aggressive than they already have.”

  “You don’t know how to shoot, Isabella.”

  A lack I was acutely aware of, these days. “But I can keep watch with the best of them. Truly, can we afford to delay, when we might learn something that could save someone’s life?”

  Jacob bit his lip; he was wavering. I pressed my advantage. “If you go out alone, you will certainly not be safe; think of the time you fell, when you and Mr. Wilker were mapping caves. What if you had hurt your leg? You need a companion, and I am volunteering.”

  “You are supposedly being haunted by the spirit of a dead monster,” he said drily.

  By that, I knew I was winning the debate. In all honesty, I cannot think of anything Jacob ever truly refused me—even things others would say he should have done.

  I was bright enough not to say that myself, though. Instead I addressed his point, as if it were a genuine concern. “We’ll see if anything troubles us tonight. If not, then we can trust that either Menkem Goen’s ritual did some good, or it was some kind of chance occurence, not to be repeated.” We could hardly have set out that day regardless; it was far too late. So it cost me nothing to wait.

  Jacob, I suspect, performed the same calculation for himself, but he said nothing of it. “We shall see.”

  I must have woken up eight times that night, but I heard nothing, and neither did Jacob. And in the morning, the grass was clear of any new marks, though the ones behind the house remained.

  Still, we didn’t leave that day. I think Jacob was quietly looking for ways to dissuade me; we had a number of brief conversations on such matters as the weather (cold and relentlessly windy, as always, but otherwise fair) and the suitability of my clothing for such a hike (I told him I would borrow a pair of his trousers).