The Dragon Seller: A Tale of Love and Dragons

by F. G. Ferrario

  You all remember the story about Lord Sackville who gives the King of England a small purple dragon. And the photographs of the King and Queen who stroll pleasantly (royals, we all know, don't walk like us mortals) through the Windsor gardens with their dragon on a diamond leash.

  Was Valiant the first European Dragon? Nothing is more incorrect. In reality Seryu created this new species, and its primus, in its laboratories in Tokyo, Japan. The aim, obviously, was to create a competition against the Tangs. A different story was then told for marketing reasons, but Lord Robert Sackville, 14th Earl De La Warr, never spent a dime on the creation of this species. He only went along with the game.

  Almost two decades have gone by now, and the Brits are as common as any other species. They're calm and quiet pet dragons, but because of their "placid" and not dragon-like nature, they're not at the top of the hit list.

  The Brits, in fact, are knick-knack dragons. Or at least that's how we Breeders call them. The "nightstand" dragons. You put them on a shelf, a cupboard, a desk, and they sit there for hours and hours. Peaceful, motionless. Someone could mistake them for living gargoyles. They're not stupid dragons, but they're very lazy.

  Their physical structure certainly doesn't help them. Compared to other species of dragon, the Brits have short wings but more developed abdomens.

  Furthermore, they tend to to get fat easily and they don't fly much. If you're not careful with their diet, you might find yourself with a fat dragon wandering around your house.

  In a market crowded with new species and variations, perhaps the Brits aren't "eye-catching" and dynamic, but don't underestimate them: a characteristic that makes them ideal as pet dragons is their cleanliness and, especially, their smell. Or rather, their lack thereof. The Brits don't smell much and love to bathe and be clean, and this is why if you want to give a dragon to a kid or your grandparents, they're perfect.

  Their totem plant is the pear tree, but like Pink French they don't refuse other types of fruit. If they have enough food and water, they can be left alone for several days, even weeks, but you have to get them used to your absence starting from when they're young.

  When I worked for Antone Davis (Davis is considered the best breeder in America for this species), I often left a Brit cuddled up on a pear branch, came back the next day and found him still hanging there, sleeping. When I got near it the dragon would open his eyes and look at me as if saying "Well, you're still here? I wasn't sleeping, I just closed my eyes for a second".

  Their Ecstasy period varies according to the pear tree where they live. Davis, for example, had three varieties of pear in his Garden: Carmen (July), Williams (August) and Conference (September). In this way, he forced his dragons into at least three months of intense activity. A strategy he had adopted to fight their natural laziness.

  "The rest of the year", he would always tell me "They won't move anymore. At the most, we can use them as Monopoly pieces".

  Another Aggression

  FOR THE SECOND WEEK IN A ROW Whiskey stayed glued to his piece of dirt. I had stopped worrying about his health when one night, checking the Flight Garden's cameras on my laptop from home, I had seen him move around. He always did it for just a few minutes, usually around midnight, when the Mustangs were sleeping. He would get up on his paws, stretch his wings and then go to the pond. After drinking, he would fly up to the troughs at the top of the Garden.

  "So that's why you're not hungry", I thought the first time I saw him.

  Since then, when I went in to feed the dragons I didn't try to move him from his spot. But in the evening, as soon as I would get home, I would spy on him on the laptop, checking to see if he ate his lunch (I know, I seem like an apprehensive mother, but they're my dragons, right?).

  That's how I discovered something bizarre.

  During one of these moments, when Whiskey left his small "realm" undefended, my eye fell on the piece of dirt and sand. And something grabbed my attention. Instead of following the dragon as I always did, I stayed on the central camera's view, staring at the small square of dirt. With night vision, the hole appeared lighter than the grass in the garden. In the middle, exactly where Whiskey would cuddle up, there was now a tiny black dot. I couldn't understand what it was from that distance, but it wasn't any bigger than a thumb.

  I waited until the next morning to check. I went into the Garden at eight, like every morning. Whiskey was curled up in his spot, as if he had never moved since the first day when I had planted the Pitahaya seeds. I had brought his red ball with me. I knew that if I threw it, he wouldn't move a muscle to go get it, but I had another idea.

  "Hey, wise guy", I said making him open his eyes. "You thought you would trick me with the statue game huh? Look what I have here, your red ball. Do you like it? You want it?"

  I threw the ball right at his head and with a jerk of his neck he bit into it in mid air. He couldn't resist it.

  "Good Whiskey!" I exclaimed.

  With one hand I petted his abdomen and with the other I tried to get the ball back, while he tightened his jaws to hold onto it. Whiskey laid on his back, letting himself be cuddled and I, little by little, moved him over a few inches.

  "Okay, let's see what you're hiding under here", I murmured.

  The dragon was still concentrated on his ball. He kept my right hand tight between his paws, and didn't give any signs of letting it go. I moved the tip of his tail and a piece of wing, looking under him.

  There were ten little cacti in the ground, an inch, maybe an inch and a half tall, no more than that, adorned with tiny thorns, almost invisible. They were all Pitahaya plants.

  I almost fell over backwards.

  How is this possible?, I thought. How many days have gone by since we planted it? Eleven? Twelve? I couldn't remember exactly, but surely not enough for plants to sprout from seeds. Or could it be?

  Raleigh was the expert in this field, I didn't know anything about it. I went into the store to get my laptop and I searched for all possible information on the Pitahaya. There were some videos on how to re-plant or grow it, and lots of people showing the fruit and how to eat it. According to some experts, fourteen to twenty-eight days were needed for the seeds to sprout.

  "Holy catfish", I murmured, "you wanna bet Whiskey really brooded his plant?"

  The idea made me laugh at first, but then I thought of the consequences and a shiver went up my spine. "A dragon that accelerates his totem plant's metabolism". What would Raleigh or her boss professor Abrams think? Or any other botanist in the world, for that matter. At the very least, they would want to study Whiskey, to discover how he did it. He would spend his whole life going from one laboratory to the next, like a guinea pig.

  Hell no!, I told myself. Nobody touches my dragon.

  By chance, on a Pitahaya enthusiast site I discovered a guy had created a variation, to put in his garden in Sacramento. This made me think that ours, after all, came from the ArK. The College's living database.

  Maybe it's a variation too. A genetically modified species, I told myself. It wasn't really that strange, during the last twenty years botanists had modified thousands of plants to fight the Drought.

  That's what it must be, I decided.

  I shut the laptop and went back to the Garden. Whiskey had stopped biting on his ball, and was now holding it between his paws, like a prize. I petted him under this throat, distracted by my thoughts.

  A magical dragon, what an absurdity!

  I tried not to think about it anymore, but as the days went by the suspicion lingered on. I thought of talking about it with Raleigh, mention the situation without having her understand something strange was going on. The right moment came along when she had to come back to get Canberra. The dragon had gotten better, and could go back to Pandora 1. That week Raleigh and I had spoken only twice, and only for a few minutes each time.

  "I'll come Saturday", she told me. "And I won't be alone, Steve will be with me. He wants to see your Flight Garden. Is that a problem?"<
br />
  I hid my annoyance as best I could. I had hoped to speak to her face to face, alone. And instead now I had to put up with her arrogant boyfriend.

  "No problem, but remind him of the rules", I answered. "This isn't the college".

  She assured me she would, but the sad truth is that there aren't any rules that are idiot-proof. I could have said no, or re-schedule the appointment, but I didn't do it.

  For two reasons: the first is I missed Raleigh. I hadn't seen her in person since we had talked about Sheela and her grandfather, and even if she would be with her boyfriend, it was still better than talking to her through a screen. The second reason, perhaps the one that tormented me most, was about the Pitahaya. Were they GMO? Surely, Raleigh knew the answer.

  The appointment started off bad and finished even worse. They arrived at the store around seven p.m., almost at closing time. Raleigh came in holding the box with Longstaff in it. Stephen Langley had an arm wrapped around her waist, and was excited about something.

  "Nice little store you have here, Ports", said dear Steve, as soon as he came in. Then, he sniffed the air and curled his lips. "Too bad about the dragon stink, though. It's awful".

  Not as bad as your chin, I thought. I ignored him and said hi to Raleigh.

  "Hi. How did our friend behave?"

  "Great", answered Raleigh.

  She placed the box on the counter. Inside, Longstaff was still dozing.

  "Okay", I took the box by the handle and went toward the hallway, "let's bring this sleepyhead into his burrow".

  "Hey", Langley stopped me, "Didn't she tell you?"

  I would have gladly avoided talking with that moron, but since Raleigh was there I made an effort and asked: "No, what?"

  "Honey, you didn't tell him?"

  Raleigh blushed and took her eyes away from the books on dragons.

  "No", she said avoiding my gaze.

  For a terrible moment I thought they had gotten engaged. My knees became weak, my heart skipped a beat. I stole a glance at Raleigh's left hand. No ring.

  Damn Langley. Another shock like that and I'll have a heart attack!

  I started breathing again, and in that moment Stephen announced: "We've been selected for the Fisher-Tahbaz! What do you think, huh Ports?"

  "Oh yeah", I said smiling again. "Well, congratulations to you both, but...um, what's the Fisher-Tahbaz?"

  "It's a research project", Raleigh explained. "Every year Berkley and the University of Tehran organize an expedition to study Iranian flora. Moss, mostly".

  "Wow, so you'll be going to Iran?"

  A courtesy smile had frozen on my face. They would have needed a pick to take it off.

  "Yes", answered Raleigh. "At the end of summer".

  "Thousands send in applications", added Langley, "but they only choose six in the whole nation. And we made it!"

  Taken by the moment, he hugged Raleigh and started kissing her. My stomach turned over. To avoid watching the show, I picked up the box with Longstaff in it again and went toward the hallway.

  Crap, I thought. How long could a botanical expedition last? Six months, a year?

  It means that at the end of their experiment I won't see Raleigh anymore.

  This bit of news made me lose my interest in hanging around those two. I would have preferred locking up the store and going home, taking a hot bath, maybe getting drunk. But there was still the issue about the Pitahaya.

  I placed my hand on the scanner and exclaimed: "Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus".

  When the Garden's door opened, Raleigh and Langley were behind me. I reminded Langley to not get excited or goof around and then I went in. Everything was calm in the Garden. The sunset light was coming in through the north-west terraces illuminating the peach tree from the side, and reflecting on the surface of the pond. Wagga and Gladstone, the two Outbacks left, had just woken up. They were on one of the orange tree's branches, and they were smelling the fruits that were still tiny and unripe.

  The Mustangs, on the contrary, were getting ready to go to sleep and almost all of them were hanging from their branches. Only Ursus and Lutezia were drinking from the pond. They watched us come in and smelled the air in Langley's direction. Whiskey, instead, was in his small realm as always.

  "And this specimen", Langley walked just a few feet from Whiskey and pointed at him, "why is he by himself? Is he sick?"

  "He's fine. Leave him alone, please. This way".

  I brought them to the burrow under the orange tree and put the box on the ground. Raleigh helped me open the locks and we took Longstaff out together. Langley kept on looking around the Garden. He went toward the pond and turned his back to us.

  "Don't go far", I told him.

  I put Longstaff on the ground and petted him on his crested back. The Outback woke up little by little. He opened his eyes and yawned.

  A welcome back "Mraur" echoed above our heads.

  Longstaff lifted his snout and saw Gladstone hanging on an orange branch. He answered the greeting with a short hiss and started climbing the gnarly bark to reach him. It was the moment to speak with Raleigh.

  "The greenhouse from the other day, the Ark", I said to her, "was a wonderful place".

  "Did you like it?" Raleigh almost seemed surprised. "Usually, the first times people feel overwhelmed". She shook her hands in front of her chest. "Like they're suffocating".

  "No, well, in the beginning that's how it is, but then you slowly get used to it. Besides that carnivorous plant that tried to eat us, Whiskey and I".

  Raleigh laughed and I said: "You should put a muzzle on that one. It's a GMO, right?

  "Oh, no", she answered. "There aren't any GMOs in the ArK. We keep some of them in Pandora and some of them in the Luther Burbank laboratories. Why do you ask?"

  "So our Pitahaya is also..."

  "100% natural".

  There's the answer I was looking for, and it wasn't good.

  If the plant is normal, then Whiskey....

  Right, Whiskey what? Did he make it grow faster with his magical powers? It was a ridiculous idea. Surely there was some other factor I wasn't considering.

  "Why do you ask? I didn't think you were a purist", said Raleigh.

  "Me, a purist?" I opened my arms pointing out the Flight Garden. "I would be a hypocrite, don't you think? Nothing is more GMO than my dragons".

  Behind us, a painful scream echoed in the Garden. I looked around and noticed Langley wasn't with us anymore.

  Deirdre!, I thought alarmed.

  But the Mustangs were still curled up in the Cherry branches. I jumped up and ran toward the pond, followed by Raleigh. Langley was in front of Whiskey, with a smartphone in his hand, and was jumping on one leg, stepping on the piece of barren ground where the Pitahaya were growing. My dragon had bit down on his right calf and was flapping his wings, flying in mid air.

  "Help! He's attacking me!" screamed Langley.

  "Whiskey, no!" I yelled.

  Langley fell to the ground, continuing to scream, his eyes wide open. Then, with his left shoe he gave Whiskey a kick, right on his snout. But it didn't work. Langley kept on kicking. Once, twice. Whiskey rolled with the kicks, he tightened his jaw and pulled. There was the sound of a clean rip and I felt Raleigh give a start.

  "Ahhh, my leg!" groaned Langley.

  For a moment it seemed Whiskey had bitten away a chunk of flesh, but he only had a piece of jeans in his mouth. He spit it out disgusted and started hissing, his jaws wide open. I arrived just in time to get in the middle. Whiskey's abdomen was already swollen, and he was getting ready to throw out a Breath. The dragon stared at me, his eyes wide open, ready to unleash a fiery river on us, but recognizing me he stopped. He let out his WAAA! and kept on flapping his wings. Answering to his roar, the Mustangs started hissing and the cherry branches shook. My blood ran cold.

  Zen calm, Jack. Zen calm, I repeated to myself.

  Raleigh took her boyfriend by the shoulder and dragged him away, but that idiot woul
dn't stop screaming.

  "Shut up!" I ordered him.

  A Mustang's hiss is an unmistakable sound, something that gives you goosebumps and announces only catastrophes. The fronds shook again and this time all ten Mustangs came out and started flying above us. Their blue scales, under the light of the sunset, had an almost black hue. Deirdre, in the middle of the group, was hissing and looking at us, ready to attack.

  "Quiescite dracones!" I yelled. "Inimicum expellam! Quiescite!"

  With a hand held up toward the Mustangs and the other toward Whiskey, I looked like a wizard in a fantasy novel, on top of a mountain, who's trying to control lightning and storms. Upon my words, Deirdre stopped hissing, but the other Mustangs didn't break up. They latched onto the high perches in the dome, continuing to follow Langley with their eyes. I turned toward Whiskey.

  "Calm down, buddy, calm down".

  I took a couple steps toward him, with my arm at ninety degrees. Whiskey let out another one of his WAAA!, now more a roar of protest than fury. He kept on flapping his wings and flying low, six feet in the air. When I was under him he came down and grabbed onto my forearm, putting a hole in my shirt and scratching my skin. I clenched my teeth.

  "Good, Whiskey", I whispered. "Everything's fine, calm down".

  The dragon kept on staring at Langley, and hissing at him, showing his fangs. I petted him to keep him calm and then I turned toward Raleigh.

  "Get him out of here", I told her.

  She nodded, pale, and helped Langley get up. The guy could barely stand, and she had to hold him up by a shoulder. Slowly, limping, they reached the exit.

  "What the hell came over you?" I asked Whiskey.

  The dragon gurgled and snapped his jaws a couple of times, then he got on the ground and started checking his plants up close. That's when I noticed a human footprint, just an inch from one of the Pitahayas. Plastic sole, size 11.

  You asshole.

  One of the characteristics a Dragon Breeder must have to obtain a special 404M. license, needed to own pureblood Mustangs, is the ability to remain calm in critical moments. This is because the dragons are already pissy on their own, if they perceive a hint of fury in their human parent disaster is assured.