The Tales of Two Seers
Page 19
Nonetheless, Zarrin glanced down. “Yes,” he said, while staring blankly at his feet, the lines of crimson trickling down around his scales, the blood pooling in the dirt beneath him. “Oh. More than I thought.”
“You’re really bleeding,” the man added, stressing the word as if Zarrin had failed to notice his own injuries. Zarrin briefly wondered if the man was concerned, though why should he be?
“Scales are only armor, and no armor is perfect,” Zarrin informed him absently, then shifted his weight so he could lift his foot to his mouth, first to lick at the blood and then to try to pull out a thorn with his teeth. The thorn was wedged between his toes, and now that he was paying attention, it hurt, a lot. He bit down and tugged, then immediately stopped at the hot throbbing sting of it. Zarrin shut his eyes while he sighed. “I am a failure once again. I can’t even pull out a thorn, and will have to bleed my way back through the woods.”
“What?” The human raised his voice. “You can’t go through the woods after dark. Or… are dragons allowed?”
Zarrin braced himself before trying to pull on the thorn again. He stopped, panting, when it hardly budged. “It was a mistake to come here,” he grunted, teeth around the blasted thing, “even just to reason with you. It is your right to be left alone, human, even if I do not think you have much hope there. I’ve certainly never been left alone to do as I wished, and I have much more power than you. I don’t know why they have settled on you as the one to offer to the royal family, but settled they have.”
The human did not respond to Zarrin’s hint for information. “So, you’ve come to take me to them yourself? To kidnap me and keep me?” The man raised his chin as high as Zarrin might have. “I don’t care if the Prince chooses me. It’s against my will to go and I will not consent. Just like with all the others.”
Zarrin flicked him a look while still gnawing at the troublesome thorn. “Did you wear your beast suit when you first came here, or only after, when the visitors would not stop?” He growled a little, because his efforts had ground the thorn in deeper. “Perhaps you put that on costume to spite them, and so, to spite you, they have told the Princess lies of your beauty to increase interest in you. But your disguise might still work, for a time. I imagine being fierce can be useful.”
“Fierce?” The man in claws and spikes dared to sound surprised. “You are a dragon.”
“I am bleeding,” Zarrin complained, and switched feet to try to pull out a different thorn.
The man had a certain belligerent quality that was either because the townspeople had been trying to be rid of him, or was the reason the townspeople had been trying to be rid of him. He put his shoulders back. “That is your fault, not mine, dragon. The point was to be left alone.”
“Moving out here was to be left alone.” Zarrin lashed his tail. “A hedge might have accomplished that. The thorns were intended to hurt.”
“Only those who wouldn’t listen,” the man insisted, stubborn, but then lowered his voice. “You still were not invited.”
“That is true. But I could find no door, and I only wished to help.” The smaller thorn slid free, and Zarrin sighed in relief before lapping at the blood. He moved back to the original, trickier thorn, but first glanced over again. Despite plenty of chances to attack a weakened dragon, the human had not. “How long have you been fending off visitors that were not wanted? You must be very tired by now.”
“I…” the man fell silent, as if at a loss, before finally heaving a breath. “People have pretended they wished to rescue me before.”
“Have they?” Something hot and decidedly not Zarrin’s own fire curled through Zarrin’s chest. The jealousy was unexpected, but then, this was the first human Zarrin had met who was so interesting. And weird. Still, Zarrin had his pride. “I have not offered to rescue you. I offered to help you, if I can.” He stopped to make sure the man was listening. “You know, going to see the Prince is no guarantee he will choose you. He has not chosen any of the others. Beauty alone is… a fine requirement for treasure but odd, for a companion. And I doubt you can be any more lovely than the others.”
Once again, he had the impression that the human was utterly lost. “You saw them?” he asked faintly. “The others? You saw them leave safely? Did they say no, or was it the Prince?”
“That matters?” Zarrin considered answers while he licked around the thorn. “They were not suited,” he replied at last before going still again. “You must be very beautiful,” he realized aloud, perhaps too wistfully. “Drawing so many to you that you required a wall of thorns. But you have nothing to worry about. I am but a little dragon. Unless…did you need a rescue? Is that what you would like?” Zarrin felt heat stirring in his chest again. Not jealousy and not fire. Not lust, either. Pride and pleasure and an eagerness to please. That was a bit of a problem, considering this human did not want him here, but Zarrin tried his best. “That is something even a small dragon may provide.”
“Provide?” the human echoed in disbelief. “For me? You’re bleeding!”
Zarrin snarled and ripped out the thorn with one final, vicious tug, and then stared in shock and distant horror as blood gushed from the wound. It spilled into the dirt in a truly alarming fashion and Zarrin tore his gaze away and looked up.
“This is nothing,” Zarrin assured the man weakly, in a voice that seemed to come from outside his body. “Don’t you know that dragons heal—”
His vision went black and he hit the ground before he could finish the words.
ZARRIN WOKE to the sight of cedar walls illuminated by light from an open door as well as the hole in the ceiling to vent smoke, with a small cooking area around a fire and shelves along the walls full of baskets, pots, and tools. He was on piles of thick blankets that must have been used as a bed, his foot resting in a bowl of cool water that was pink with his blood.
Sitting on the floor in front of him, a knife at his side along with bandages and some herbs, was the man in a beast suit.
“I fainted,” Zarrin croaked, terribly embarrassed, and didn’t know what to think when the man ignored this.
“There are thorns and splinters still beneath your scales, though I tried to soak them to loosen them.” The skull of the Great Wolf would not let Zarrin see the man’s face clearly, although the two of them were much closer than they had been before. “I already cleaned the wounds on your face and back.”
Zarrin trembled. This would hurt more. He might faint again. He was no sort of dragon to have any companion, that was clear. “I am not brave,” he admitted softly, eyes down.
Again, the human paused. “We both know you could still overpower me, quite easily.” His voice was equally soft.
Zarrin darted a look up, though the man had no face or expression to read. “I’m not a kidnapper.”
The man nodded. “You said you were a solver of problems.”
“Well, I would like to be.” Zarrin saw no point in pretending anymore. “I’ve never done it before, but it seemed like a good time to start. It’s meant to be a gift, you know, being chosen. An honor. I’m sorry it was not, and that I have been nothing but trouble for you.” He drew in a deep breath before he pulled his foot from the water and held it out. “Go ahead. I will try to bear it.”
Slowly, the man removed his clawed gloves, baring sturdy, slender hands that were more delicate than Zarrin would have expected.
They were lovely hands, callused from work but gentle when they closed around Zarrin’s foot and turned it over to inspect it.
Zarrin decided he loved them, but not nearly as much as the quiet, “I’m sorry,” that came from his beast before the man set to work and the pain began.
ZARRIN MUST HAVE fainted again. He blinked to wakefulness, in the cedar house once again, on the same colorful bedding, but this time in the dark of night. His journey up the hills and through the woods must have exhausted him if he’d slept this long.
He lifted his head and saw, beyond his bandaged feet, the man dressed as
a beast, lying on his side on the other side of the fire, asleep. The helmet was gone, but with his body turned the other way, all Zarrin could see was the skin of his nape, the same color as the cedar walls, and short, black hair that gleamed in the firelight. The man had thrown his fur coat over his body to keep warm, but shivered in his sleep, even close to the fire. No wonder, since Zarrin must have been using all his blankets.
But that, Zarrin could fix now that he was stronger. He put his head back down and closed his eyes and let his magic warm the house better than any simple human fire ever could.
IN THE MORNING, Zarrin woke up alone, and padded gingerly around the space, inspecting elaborately woven blankets and baskets and wondering if the man had made them himself. Zarrin was not quite ready to remove the bandages and look at his feet, but the pain was much better. He might have healed already.
He had just made his way back to the fire to consider how one made tea, and if the man would appreciate some if Zarrin made it, when the man appeared in the doorway. He had not put the claw gloves back on.
“I was going to make tea, to thank you for the removal of the thorns.” Zarrin wiggled his toes inside his bandages.
“That’s not… you don’t need to do that.”
Zarrin was starting to suspect that not very many people had ever said sorry or thank you to this man. He grew hot again, but he expected it this time. He was angry, possibly, with others, but he also felt tender toward this spiky, scared human.
“You could have let me suffer,” Zarrin told him gently. “I would have deserved it for showing up uninvited.”
“I…” The man held back whatever he might have said and crossed his arms. “Do you even know how to make tea?” he asked instead, his tone pointed but also lighter than Zarrin had expected.
Zarrin sighed. “No. But I thought you might like to be taken care of.”
A startled noise came from the depths of the Great Wolf skull, then a fierce growl. “I don’t need that.”
Zarrin had said like to. Not need. The human had brought that word into the conversation.
Zarrin hummed.
“I admit, I am used to servants, and will not be much good at taking care of anyone at first. Not that you want that.” But he might need it. Not physically, obviously. At the moment, the human was capable of cooking and taking care of himself. But emotionally was another matter. If he did not have a need for that, Zarrin would not still be there with him. Yet the human was intent on ignoring this, or denying it. What a strange creature this human was. “I will make tea next time,” Zarrin promised him. “If you show me how to do it now.”
The man dipped his head, giving the impression that he was considering Zarrin’s feet, or perhaps the bandages. He cleared his throat and his next question was something unexpected. “What does a dragon want with a human companion?”
“What does anyone want with a husband?” Zarrin asked in return.
The man dropped his arms, then crossed them again quickly. “But you’re…. You said ‘companion’ before. Do you need a friend? Could that not be found with another dragon?”
“Oh.” Zarrin nodded, understanding the question now. “That was also attempted. But no one wishes to tie themselves down with… that is…. Dragon pride is very great, you see, or can be. It is only an inconsequential prince on offer. One not even trusted by his family with any important duties. Since it has been some time since the dragons have chosen from among the humans, the royal family thought…”
“That this prince might be foisted off on a human,” the human finished for him, rude, but not wrong.
“That isn’t how it used to be,” Zarrin protested. “But yes. The humans so far have been frightened, or in love with others, or greedy. They did not suit.”
“Then it shouldn’t matter if I go or not.”
“You don’t understand human or dragon politics,” Zarrin chided him lightly, making the man rear his head. “That your town sent no one is an insult that has been noticed by the royal family. But I have visited, and I can report back that you, at least, offered no insult. You might have gone to the towers on your own, as tradition suggests, but it seems many humans have forgotten the traditions—and also that no one actually asked you. They tried to force you. Are you truly that beautiful? They couldn’t find anyone else that would do?”
Zarrin wrinkled his nose thoughtfully, the scratches on his face so healed now that they barely twinged. He was considering how much longer it would take his feet to heal if he directed his magic elsewhere, when he realized that the man had reached up to remove his helmet.
Zarrin spared a moment to consider the weight of that skull, doubting that the man would have worn it so long if Zarrin had not been there, and then Zarrin was lost to the sheer loveliness of the man in front of him.
He was not beautiful as some would have defined it. Or handsome, as humans claimed only men could be. He was not excessively tall or broad. He had short, messy hair, with questioning eyebrows over sparkling and warm brown eyes, and his lips looked soft. The man was perhaps beautiful or perhaps handsome, if he dressed differently or stood in bold sunlight. But what he really was, was pretty in the way it was pretty to sit in a comfortable bed with a cup of strong tea and a pastry. Pretty like spring flowers dotted with recent rain, and pretty like a well-made knife, and pretty like the blankets Zarrin had slept on. Real, tangible, loveliness that anyone would want in their home.
Even his flushed ears were pretty.
Zarrin took a breath. “Oh,” he murmured at last. “I understand.”
The questioning eyebrows tightened into a frown, but the man directed it at the floor. “The mayor’s son, years ago… or still, I suppose. He desired me but would not marry me. For that, no one else would marry me, either, although they have made their wants known. That is why they wished to send me away to the dragons. Their version of revenge. To humiliate me, or hoping I would be eaten.”
Zarrin could not stop staring at him. “You were kind for caring for me, clever in the design of your suit, and patient to build your wall of thorns. You are lovely, but you are more than someone to be desired. They were foolish to think that sending you to the palace would be your humiliation, or that any of the dragons would not choose you.”
The man’s gaze flew to his. The flush at his ears was in his cheeks, too. He studied Zarrin for a moment in which Zarrin could not breathe, and then he looked away again. “I should check your wounds.”
“My wounds.” Zarrin abruptly remembered them. “I am… not sure I will be able to make it through the woods today,” he said carefully. “May I stay for another night? I can sleep outside, or on the floor so you may have your blankets back.”
The man looked at him, startled. He frowned again, but it did not seem angry. Dragons, or Zarrin, must confuse him very much. “You want to stay? On the floor? But you’re rich. You have servants.”
Zarrin shrugged as well as a dragon could. “I would offer to cook for my host, but I cannot.”
The man’s gaze sharpened. “You’re not merely rich. You’re a noble dragon, aren’t you?”
Zarrin shook his head ruefully. “The humans have truly forgotten the ways of the towers, haven’t they? Yes. I am noble. But I am also useless and little.”
“You came through the woods, after dark, to challenge a beast,” the man argued.
“And lost, due to a thorn in my foot,” Zarrin reminded him mournfully.
“You really aren’t very fierce.” Confused again, the man treated Zarrin to another pretty frown.
“I could be.” Zarrin smiled to show teeth. He was hot inside and out. “When it’s needed. If I decided to be, if I needed to be, I would be dragon enough to battle the King and Queen themselves.”
“You said that before, something like that. About need.”
“It is a distinction dragons often make.” Zarrin huffed, pleased that the man had noticed. “I have never cared for anyone before, but here I am, an answer to a wish.”
Zarrin pouted, and chewed his lip while the human grew more visibly startled. “I can make the water boil,” he reasoned.
The human snorted, then coughed as if he had wanted to laugh. “I have work to do.”
Zarrin inched closer. “Might I help?”
“You…” Rendering this unusual human so silent and baffled, and watching the various emotions cross his pretty face as he tried to fight the feeling, was something Zarrin found he enjoyed. He waited patiently until the man finally gestured awkwardly at him. “If you can heat more water, I can wash some things so they can dry while the sun is out.”
Zarrin beamed and bounded eagerly forward. The human startled, so Zarrin slowed to a more sedate and regal pace.
He remembered to limp a moment later, but did not think the human noticed, for all his staring.
DOZING IN THE SUN, not far from the firepit and cauldron behind the small house, Zarrin watched the man hang up blankets and shirts to dry and then sit on a stump while he worked on a basket. The weaving was intricate, the design beautiful, but it would have been easier if the man removed his bulky coat of fur and spikes.
The man knew it, too, but with a glance to Zarrin, he had left the coat on before he’d sat down, so Zarrin had said nothing. Zarrin was content to gaze upon him and the smooth movements of his hands.
“Do you sell those in town?” Zarrin wondered aloud after what might have been hours.
The man barely reacted, as if he had known Zarrin was watching him. “A frie… someone takes them for me. I… used to craft chairs and tables as well. Build things. But I have no way to get those through the woods, so I don’t anymore.”
“You miss it,” Zarrin observed. “I could figure out a way to get things through the woods,” he added.