The Dragon Who Didn't Fly

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The Dragon Who Didn't Fly Page 12

by C. M. Barrett


  “I take full responsibility,” Romala said. “I offer my resignation.”

  “That’s the last thing I want. You could hardly have anticipated that a woman who’d supposedly been in a coma for weeks would somehow escape from the House of Healing. The damage is done, but where is she now?”

  Someone knocked on the door. “Come in,” Phileas said, and Head Peace Officer, Renzel Dal’Rish came in, looking uneasy.

  “What’s the bad news?” Phileas asked.

  “The former Chief Healer has been seen in Turley Square. She gave a speech about—”

  “About?”

  Dal’Rish looked down at his shiny boots. “About the importance of emotion and Zena’s secret message. What’s Zena’s secret message?”

  Phileas gritted his teeth. “A delusion on the part of the former Chief Healer. Was the speech so short that our illustrious officers didn’t have time to apprehend her?”

  “The squad tried, but Earthers immediately surrounded her, and she disappeared.”

  “Disappeared? Does she do magic acts now?”

  “I wasn’t there. I can’t explain it, but you can be sure that the peace officers are on full alert. With your permission, we’re going to put up posters with her picture. The text will say that the Chief Healer is seriously ill and in need of medical attention. Anyone who sees her should do their best to apprehend her and put her into the custody of the nearest officer.”

  Phileas nodded. “Excellent, and I apologize for any harshness or excessive emotion.”

  Dal’Rish saluted and left the room.

  Janzi made several more appearances over the next few days, repeating her theme, always protected by a contingent of Earthers.

  “She’s attracted a following,” Romala said. “Even people who think she’s crazy like to listen to her because she’s so outrageous. She provides a break in the dull day. The Earthers have adopted her as their inspiration. It’s rumored that she lives in the woods with those who have escaped the fields.”

  “But how?” Phileas demanded. “No private citizen has a car. Does she travel on public transportation?”

  “I suspect the grain trucks or any truck that goes back and forth between Oasis West and Nathansville. You can be sure that some of the drivers are Earthers. And she always carries a shopping bag. I think she must keep wigs and other disguises in it.”

  “You’d think she’d wear a disguise all the time.”

  “She wants the people to know who she is. One of her themes is that the government sought to have her brain destroyed.”

  Phileas struck his forehead. “It was never definite. I had the gravest misgivings over the suggestion for the procedure.”

  “I don’t think it would help to say that.”

  “No. I haven’t noticed that she mentions the dragon.”

  “She’s probably waiting until her base of support broadens.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” he said. “My mental clarity has never been so impaired.”

  Romala’s eyes were warm with sympathy, and her hands curved as if she wanted to touch him. To his shock, he realized he wished she would.

  But it would be totally inappropriate.

  Chapter 9

  “You’ve been a lot more cheerful lately,” Berto said, hanging from a strap on the high-speed train to Nathansville. “Is it the kitten?”

  Serazina smiled. She did her homework outside whenever possible, and Kitty was always jumping in her lap and blocking her view of the portalibrary screen. If Serazina got upset, the kitten began purring and pushing her head beneath Serazina’s hand.

  “She seems so happy,” Serazina said. “But I guess that makes sense. She doesn’t have to worry about her future.”

  “Lucky her.”

  When they got off the train, they descended into the swarming mobs of people headed toward the amphitheatre for the anniversary celebration. If the mood of the crowd had been happy, Serazina could have endured it, but she felt only waves of worry with a strong undertow of anger.

  “Are you all right?” Berto asked, taking her arm.

  “So many people.”

  “We’re almost there—unless you want to skip the whole thing. I wouldn’t mind.”

  “No, I have to be there.” She didn’t know what had prompted that thought, but it helped her swim through the emotional tide.

  “Oasans, beloved Oasans, rejoice. Soon you’ll be able to set your emotions free.”

  Serazina had heard about the Chief Healer’s random appearances throughout the city and about the following she had gathered. She was afraid to turn in the direction of the voice.

  Berto, however, listened with rapt attention. “She’s the best thing that’s happened to Oasis since drugs.”

  Janzi didn’t look frightened or small any more. She seemed to tower over her listeners, and her face glowed with vitality.

  “Zena’s message is coming.”

  “When?” several people shouted.

  “When you’re ready to hear it. If you heard it now, it would be dust in your ears. Open your hearts, listen to the wisdom of your emotions, and you will hear what you already know.”

  Janzi’s words burrowed beneath Serazina’s defenses, arousing the emotions always too ready to burst into life.

  “You’ve been taught to mistrust your emotions and to believe they make you no better than an animal. Look at the animals.” She pointed up to the sky, where a hawk hovered. “Who is free? That creature or you beings, chained by the cold shackles of logic? Fly, my friends! Fly!”

  Serazina felt her spirit begin to soar. If only it were true, if only Janzi could reach enough people so that Oasis could become a place where she could survive.

  “It’s beautiful,” Berto said softly.

  Longing pulled all those who listened to reach for the happiness Janzi promised. The air hummed with hope. Then the fragile moment shattered. Godlies charged toward Janzi, but before they could reach the area where she stood, Earthers began fighting them. The sound of fists striking heads and the oomph of stomachs pounded by feet filled the area around them. Peace officers waded into the melee to separate the combatants. In the midst of the chaos Janzi disappeared.

  Serazina kept her thoughts as quiet as she could, but she could hardly breathe by the time they reached the entrance to the amphitheatre.

  “I’ve never heard anything like Janzi’s words,” she said to Berto.

  “Neither have I. Even though that was the most violent scene I’ve ever witnessed in Oasis, I kept on remembering what the Chief Healer said, and I had the strangest feeling that all would be well.”

  “Yes.” She decided she would tell Berto what she’d done once they were alone.

  Though the huge amphitheatre was packed, the emotions that had assaulted Serazina in the crowded streets of the city seemed here to dissipate into the blue bowl of sky.

  Sunlight shimmered against the rectangle of polished stones in the area’s center, and rainbows flashed off the quartz obelisk that topped the structure. Serazina thought of the kitten’s golden eyes, and her heartbeat slowed. The images of hatred and combat faded. The Chief Healer and the kitten: somehow they were connected in their ability to smooth away her fear.

  They found seats in the middle section, close to the stage, where the Guardian sat, flanked by Council members. Berto studied the program. “The usual spin: all praise to our great founders, why Oasis is the best country in the world, three cheers for the Council, Etrenzian and Dolocairn dancing and singing. Wake me up when it’s over.”

  “I agree. The program seems even more boring than usual. There ought to be different ways to say Triumph of the Mind and Mind Mastery. And why are animal urges so base? What do they want, a world of machines?”

  “I never thought of that,” Berto said.

  Why had Serazina never noticed how stiffly the Etrenzian dancers held their bodies, arms clamped against their sides, as if the slightest motion would invite unwanted emotion? She was beg
inning to think it might be a good idea to head off to the Bazaar when the actors from “Zena Triumphant” began to perform excerpts from a work in rehearsal called “The Journey to Oasis.”

  The excerpts focused on the post-revolutionary movement and the conflict between factions of the former slaves. Some chose to rebuild Tamaras; others claimed that a fresh beginning was needed. The actress who played Zena sang: “We will build a new, clean land, a monument to the power of Mind.”

  In the following scene, the pioneers entered the new world, formerly an outpost of Tamaras. The actor playing Nathan did a good job of losing heart when he thought of the empty land beyond them.

  “The roads are hardly fit for a donkey cart. Except for the trains that carry salt from the distant sea, we have nothing.”

  “We have everything,” Zena said. “We have the wealth of our minds, and with that wealth, we will build a mental oasis, a place where pure thought flourishes and refreshes us like the waving palms of the Etrenzian oases.”

  “What makes you so determined?” he demanded.

  “I was a slave in Tamaras, an Emperor’s toy. And I vowed I would build a world where that could never happen to another girl or woman.”

  You couldn’t fault Zena for that, and every Oasis female owed her for helping to create a society in which women had at least a fighting chance at equality. Serazina felt pretty sure that Zena, who’d wanted everyone to get a break, hadn’t realized that her own race, adapted to survive in a harsh desert environment, had developed special mental gifts that, like their dark skin, enabled them to flourish. She couldn’t have known that she’d laid the groundwork for a society where Etrenzians would always be on top.

  Once Nathan had discovered his own natural mental sharpness, it was all over for future generations, at least for those who couldn’t subdue their emotions.

  Oasis made a big deal about diversity: the blending of the races, a place for the gifts of each member of society, but it was basically all dragon shit. Maybe people were beginning to realize that; maybe that was why Serazina heard so much grumbling today.

  And more than grumbling. Somewhere close by, emotions raged, burning with the stench of violence. Serazina shuddered, pinpricks of anxiety prodding her to escape.

  Close your eyes, find the source of this disturbance, a voice urged her. She followed the fiery stench to its source, a man working his way down the aisles. Without knowing why she did so, Serazina got up and followed him. When she saw him reach into his pocket, the word Kill! stabbed at her. She gagged at the foul smell of refuse and filth, recoiling at her contact with his mind, empty of all but a furious buzzing.

  His gun flashed silver, and he shouted, “Death to the Guardian in the name of the Earth!”

  Serazina grabbed his arm as he pulled the trigger. Screaming erupted all over the amphitheater. Soldiers swarmed to surround the would-be assassin and took him away.

  “Are you all right, miss?” a ruddy-skinned Dolocairner soldier asked.

  The smell of gunpowder made her cough and her eyes burn. Her ears hurt.

  “Were you hit?”

  “No, I’m all right. Why is everyone shouting?”

  “The fiend shot the Guardian.”

  Serazina jumped to her feet in time to see the Guardian slowly rising, blood dripping from his head. “A mere flesh wound,” he shouted, his voice as strong as ever. “Already, it is healing.”

  Green-clad Healers hurried him away, and Malvern Frost, head of the Water Commission and Elissia’s boss, came onto the stage. “Good citizens, do not allow base emotion to overwhelm your reason. You have seen that the Guardian hasn’t been seriously injured, and the Earther assassin has been caught. If we discover that he’s part of a terrorist plot, we’ll find his accomplices and bring them to justice.”

  Dizziness overtook Serazina. The soldier grabbed her before she toppled to the ground. “Do you need a Healer?” he asked.

  “No, I think I need to get away from this crush of people.”

  “I’ll oblige your wish as soon as possible, but I need to have your name and address for the incident report.”

  She was trapped. “Serazina Clare, of the Clare farmstead outside Oasis West. I don’t want any attention drawn to me, though. I’m not important.”

  “You saved the Guardian’s life. That’s important to everyone in this country. He’ll want to thank you when he’s well enough. Surely you’re eager for the honor of meeting him.”

  That was exactly what Serazina didn’t want. She didn’t need that sharp mind to scan hers and notice the soggy muddle inside. “I’d rather avoid the danger of pride and self-importance, Officer.”

  “I commend you, but we’ll let the Guardian be the judge of the danger.” The soldier tipped his cap and marched away.

  * * *

  “I’m fine, perfectly capable of performing my job, and the people need me more than ever,” Phileas raged. “I want to get out of this bed.”

  Romala stood by the bedside, unmoved by his tirade. “Guardian, the decision doesn’t rest in your hands. As Acting Chief Healer, I decide. You need to recover from both injury and trauma.”

  “But the assassin must be interrogated and his accomplices captured before they go to ground.”

  “The leading Healers have been summoned. Perhaps none of them as individuals can equal you, but as a group they will extract whatever information is available. So far, though, they’ve found nothing.”

  Phileas sat up, ignoring the sudden slash of pain in his head. “Nothing?”

  “Only this thought: ‘Kill the Guardian.’ They’ve found evidence of major tampering; vital mental circuits are destroyed. The assassin has no memory of his past.”

  “Someone turned him into a killing machine, but who? I haven’t sensed that degree of either skill or ruthlessness among the Earthers. I don’t find it logical that they’re responsible. Calling out their name was probably a planned diversion on the part of the true terrorists.”

  “I tend to agree with that. Meanwhile, I’ve assigned the most skilled Healers to determine whether they can retrieve data from the assassin’s mind. So, you see, everything is under control.”

  “And I’m superfluous?”

  “Never that, Guardian, but neither should you be so indispensable that the nation can’t carry on while you recover.”

  “What have you learned about the young woman who tackled the assassin?”

  “She’s Serazina Clare. Her father, a Dolocairner, is Head Supervisor of the fields, a well-regarded man. Her mother, Etrenzian and a direct descendant of Zena, supervises those who analyze medical data from the Healing Center.”

  Phileas frowned. “It’s unusual for one of Zena’s descendants to marry out of her race.”

  “Let’s be frank, Guardian. It’s frowned upon. My father wasn’t even of Zena’s lineage, and his family put huge pressure on him not to marry my mother. Believe me, prejudice against mixed marriages and hybrids is rampant among Etrenzians.”

  It was hard not to take that personally. “I have done all I could to promote equality.”

  “I’m not accusing you. However, when you consider the information about this family, take this awareness into your analysis. Whatever caused these two to wed is part of their children’s heritage.”

  Her reminder that he must be analytical and logical told him how far the attempted assassination had pushed him towards cowardly emotion. “That’s an important observation. Thank you. We must investigate that. We may assume that, given the parents’ stature, they’re both highly intelligent. Intelligence alone, however, doesn’t explain how this girl sensed and assaulted the assassin before our allegedly well-trained Healers had a clue. Any sensing gift in the family tree?”

  “I investigated that. Her older sister was one of the most gifted graduates of the Oasis West secondary school. Because of that, she was tested for suitability to be Mother of the Heir, despite her hybrid flaw. She failed, however, in the area of sensing. Now she’s the youn
gest member ever on the Water Commission, and she seems to be doing brilliant work.”

  Romala referred to her notes. “Serazina was tested only because of her sister’s outstanding record. She’s an average student, and testing revealed no sensing ability. Failing a change in the final review report, she’ll go to the fields after graduation.”

  Phileas reflected that this Serazina was a classic argument against mixing Dolocairn and Etrenzian genes. In her case, the Dolocairn heritage had overwhelmed any Etrenzian benefits. For that to happen to a descendent of Zena was a crime. Yet, somehow this baffling girl had sensed the presence of the assassin in time to deflect his aim, succeeding where trained peace officers, supposedly scanning the crowd for trouble, had failed.

  “How did she conduct herself following the attempted assassination?”

  “The incident officer reported that she resisted giving any information about herself. She said she wanted to avoid the danger of pride.”

  “Did she? I sense a mystery here, one worth unraveling. Let’s do this. Correctness dictates that I thank this young woman as soon as possible for saving my life. Since you won’t permit me the freedom to do that immediately, I ask that you go out to the Clare home as my emissary. While you’re there, study this young woman and her parents.”

  “Their minds?”

  “No. With all due respect, only I have the power to insist on the invasion of presumably healthy minds and only for purposes of national security. When the time comes, I’ll cite that need without a shred of hesitation. I want you to gather whatever information you can without putting her on guard. Be my eyes and ears. Study the parents and the house. See if you can determine why they married. Has the husband transcended his Dolocairner heritage? Does the wife suppress a streak of romanticism? This information, as you so wisely pointed out, will tell us something about the girl. We’ll discuss your findings tonight.”

  “Tomorrow, Guardian. I promise that the moment I leave the Clare home, I will begin recording my impressions, and I will stay up as late as necessary to complete my report. The results will arrive with your breakfast in the morning. Now, I insist that you rest.”

  “You’re far too good at your job.” He tried not to sound surly.

  * * *

  Only the highest officials had the use of hummer planes, and when Serazina heard the buzz above their house, she felt a tremor of fear. The visitor couldn’t be the Guardian, though. According to the online reports, he was resting in the Healing Center.

 

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