After grabbing something from the desk, Renata said, “Shall we?” She then turned and headed out.
Chanté hurried after her.
“This folder is your welcome kit.” She handed the item she’d retrieved to him as they continued down the hallway. “Inside you’ll find maps of the Guildhall, an organization chart including names, positions, and office numbers, your lesson schedule, and a list of books for those lessons. The books can be picked up at the library. There are also requisition forms for your gear, uniforms, and tack for your dragon. You should fill those out immediately as they’ll be picked up by a runner in an hour. In addition, there’s a credit slip for a few marks, which once you pick them up can be spent as you see fit. I’d recommend a sturdy satchel as your first purchase. You’ll also find—”
She suddenly chuckled. “Good gods, you’re almost as pale as your hair.”
He glanced at her and swallowed. His stomach felt odd and it seemed very warm in the hallway.
“It does sound like a lot to take in,” she said, “but it really isn’t. There’s some time before dinner, yet, so just look through the kit after I show you to your room. If you have questions, you can ask me or the Guildmaster anything.”
He nodded and swallowed again. What had he gotten Nantli and himself into?
As they rounded a corner, sounds of fighting came from ahead—grunts, muttered curses, and what could be punches landing. He glanced at Renata, but she seemed unconcerned. When they walked before a large doorway, he saw why. Inside there were a number of people paired up. A tall man with shiny black hair like Renata’s walked among them, looking them over.
Chanté stopped and watched.
“Renny, what are you doing?” The man, he could be Renata’s older brother, walked over to a boy. “You look like a frightened dune mouse. Don’t hunch over all scrunched like that. Keep your back straight. Yes, like that. Good.”
The boy, Renny, frowned. “I never asked Renata, but why do we even have lessons on the weekend?”
“The first few months of candidate training is tough because there is a lot to cover in the various crafts. Once this class progresses far enough, the weekend combat lessons will end and we’ll only meet during the week. But that won’t be until you all get better!”
Renny sighed and turned back to his partner.
Chanté watched as they all attacked, parried, or blocked.
Renny’s partner, a girl, spun around and her bo struck his thigh with a meaty-sounding smack.
“Ow!”
“Careful, Mouse,” the girl said, smiling.
“Ha, ha,” he said, spinning into what looked like an attack stance. He smiled back at her. “You be careful, too, or I’ll kick you right in your mouse.”
The girl chuckled amid the laughter at his comment, and everyone continued with their sparring, bos and bodies spinning.
Chanté watched them dash in for attacks then back out. “Those manisi techniques did come in handy,” he muttered.
“You know of the manisi?”
He spun around.
Renata, one brow raised, stared at him.
Damn! He needed to watch what he said more carefully. “I, ah, am a bit of a dragon fanatic and have been following news of the guild. T–The meeting with the Corpus Order was the last thing I heard about. Unfortunately, I only learned what transpired up to where Anaya was attacked. Shortly after that is when my father, well . . .” He frowned. “I don’t even know if Anaya lived.”
Renata stared at him, then grunted. “She did. In fact, she and Aeron are just about done with a nahual patrol. At dinner, you could ask Aeron about his and Anaya’s fight with Yiska.”
“Nahual patrol?” He drew his brows together. “Has the sun set?”
“No, not quite yet.”
“Then why are they patrolling?”
“Preventive measure. Get the beasts before they attack anyone.”
Chanté was completely confused. Owing to his mistake, they would have to be relatively close to the things—
“If you do well when I test you after dinner, you’ll not be in combat training with this group. You’ll be with class one instead for more advanced training.”
“Advanced training?”
“In hand-to-hand combat. Class one normally trains with Polandra, but she’s been away on guild business, so I’ve been training them in the interim.” She smiled. “I used to also train class two and three, but they will now train with Ahiga, there. We brought him in from Bataan-Mok to take my place so lesson schedules could be more flexible.”
He blinked at her. There was more to this girl than he suspected if she taught fighting lessons more advanced than what that man was teaching.
“Come. Let’s get to your rooms.” She turned and continued walking.
Chanté followed.
After taking a few different passages, ramps, and flights of stairs, she stopped before one of the doors in a long hallway. Many of the other doors were open, and laughter, music, and cheers came from some of them. A handful of people walked up and down the hallway, some going in and coming out of rooms. As they caught sight of him, a few stopped and stared.
Though even bigger than others he’d walked through—the ceiling here was at least twelve feet high—this hallway felt smaller, somehow. Chanté tried not to look at the people watching him.
“Due to how their rooms must be configured, dragonlinked housing is on the top floor of this part of the Guildhall.” Renata smiled as she watched the activity in the hallway. “It’s much livelier now than it was even four weeks ago. And while this is somewhat typical right before dinner, there’s no need to worry. It’s quiet enough later on.”
Removing a key from a pocket, she unlocked the door and said, “You’re in suite fourteen.” She gestured to a brass plate to the left of the door before walking in.
He glanced at the engraved nameplate before stepping in the doorway. The ceilings in here were just as high as the hallway.
Renata pressed a stud on the wall just inside and sconces slid open in the front area, lighting up the place.
She pointed to a counter off to the right. “You’ve got a small cook area there for drinks and snacks,” a wave of her hand to the left, “a desk for studies and work, and through here,” she continued ahead, down a short hallway, “past the water closet, is your bedroom.”
Chanté followed then had to stop and stare.
Aside from a door on its left, the entire wall on the other end of the room was one enormous window through which he saw a spectacular panorama. Suule, enormous and reddish-gold, hovered above the horizon. The sky seemed to go on forever. Below the blue expanse, a line of hills, covered in trees or occasional patches of bare rock or grass, was visible for miles.
“It is a beautiful view.” Renata smiled and walked through that far door.
After a moment taking in the fantastic vista, Chanté set down his belongings and followed her.
The outer bedroom wall was recessed perhaps five feet into the stone of the hill in which the Guildhall had been constructed. He walked out of the little alcove created by the recess and onto what looked like a small courtyard. It was actually a ledge, an enormous shelf of rock. A waist-high fence of stone ran along the end of it. Thin, yet sturdy-looking, the handrail ran the entire width of his courtyard and would no doubt be welcomed by those wary of what looked to be an eighty foot drop to the ground. Based on other ledges hanging off the side of the hill, there were more rooms to the left and right of his.
Chanté turned around to face the bedroom. His ‘courtyard’ was perhaps thirty feet deep and more than twice that wide, though even more ledge extended south beyond a tall section of fencing that ran from the wall out to the stone handrail.
Pieces of furniture sat in front of his bedroom alcove—a table surrounded by chairs, along with some kind of long chairs, perhaps to lounge in. There were also two benches opposite each other on the sides of the ledge, along each section of fencing that
extended from the wall to the long handrail. One bench sat to the left, next to the table, and the other was far to the right in front of the fence dividing his courtyard from the next one. Even with all that furniture, however, there was a lot of unused space.
He looked over the stone balcony. “This ledge is awfully big.”
Renata smiled. “That’s because dragons need a bit of room to land. And, too, they may wish to lay about in the warm sun. Come.” She walked in a wide archway to the right of his bedroom.
After pressing another stud, lighting up a rather enormous space, she held her arms out. “This is the den for your dragon.” She pointed to the left, to a table, cabinets, and shelves. “You have a work area there for repairing your gear and your dragon’s tack, and your bedroom is at the end of that short passage just past the table.”
With a glance through, he saw that the passage was wide enough that a dragon could actually walk the five or six feet to the bedroom if he or she so desired. The floor of the passage and den was soil of some kind that must have been brought in.
The den appeared to be the same depth as his suite of rooms combined and looked to be as wide as the rest of his part of the ledge.
He grunted. “Seems like a lot of room just for Nantli. She needs maybe half this. Are all the dens this big?”
“They are, but two dragons might need to fit in a den, after all.”
He looked at her. “Two?”
“It isn’t unheard of for two dragonlinked to, ah, be in a relationship, and in the future, maybe even marry.” Her cheeks darkened slightly. “In those cases, the dragonlinked and their bond-mates could share a suite of rooms.”
“I see.” Why had she blushed?
Have you gotten to the rooms, yet?
I have. They’re very nice.
Can I see them?
Renata smiled. “You can ask her to fly here, now.”
He glanced at the raven-haired girl. He should have realized that, like him, they knew when he was speaking with Nantli. That didn’t make him feel better about it, however. He might have to practice not losing focus on where he was at those times.
He nodded to her and headed out to the ledge. At least now he didn’t have to worry about Nantli fitting through hallways or getting lost in the Guildhall. Of course, you can. They are our rooms, after all. Fly above the Guildhall to find me. I’ll be waiting on a balcony for you.
I am on my way!
Renata stepped outside the den. “I’ll take my leave, now. Dinner is in about an hour. On your desk in the study you’ll find the Dragon Craft Handbook. All members are expected to know what it contains, so take time to read it when you can. Also, be sure to go over your welcome kit, and don’t forget to fill out the requisition forms. A messenger will be by before dinner to pick them up. I’ll leave the room key on your desk.” She smiled and left.
Chanté turned to the lowering sun. Finally, he had a spare moment to think. You know, since coming to the guild, all I’ve been through makes me feel as if I have no control over my destiny anymore. It’s more than a little disconcerting.
You and I are now part of the guild. Was that not our purpose in coming here?
He smiled. You really are wise, my beauty. That is exactly correct. Just because we now have certain things we must do, does not mean we aren’t progressing with our own purpose. Thank you for reminding me of that.
We will do what we will do.
The memory of her words made him grunt. So far, the dice were rolling his way.
He sat in one of the long chairs and lay back, arms behind his head. It was actually quite nice to sit here, lie here, really, enjoying the coming sunset.
As Suule slowly dropped in the sky, he wondered what Quillan was doing. It was likely the machinist was in another part of the housing section, a part without dens for dragons.
Chanté drew his brows together. Did that mean all those people he saw walking in the hallway had dragons? There had been fewer than ten bonded dragons when he was snatched away, but he didn’t know the two he’d seen in Caer Baronel—Itzel and Huemac. How many bondings had there been in the last month?
I see you!
The ruddy evening light made Nantli look like a living gold statue as she banked down to the balcony.
After hovering for two wing beats, she dropped to her rear legs, held her wings up, then dropped to all fours. Approval came from her as she took in the ledge and furled her enormous wings. It has good room to land.
He chuckled and stood. Yes, it does. Come, this is your den. He headed into the dragon-sized room.
It feels a little . . . empty. She looked around the large space.
My bedroom is just through this passage here. We won’t be far from each other. He walked in. Quick, heavy footsteps—pawsteps?—came from behind.
She looked into the room. Can I not sleep in here with you?
He eyed the space. I don’t think you’d fit, lovely.
Though deep, his rooms were somewhat narrow. There was less than four feet between the near wall and the side of the bed.
I suppose you could lie down in the passage and poke your upper body in here, at least until you feel better about your own den.
She let out a non-specific rumble.
He reached up and put his hand on her shoulder. And I could sleep on the floor with you the next few nights, too.
She turned to him and he felt her happiness. Okay.
Looking up at her, he realized why the ceilings were so high in this part of the Guildhall. To accommodate dragons. Why don’t you look around your den while I take care of some things for the guild.
Her large eyes blinked slowly. As you say. A trace of sadness came through the link.
I’m just going into my study to fill out some paperwork. I’ll be near.
She rumbled and backed out of view.
He grabbed the welcome kit from where he’d set it on the bed, returned to the study, and sat at the desk.
There was a small mechanical device atop it, making a clicking or ticking sound. On its front were three hands, pointing out toward a ring of numbers. The thinnest hand moved every time a tick was heard. Chanté picked up the device and looked it over. If he remembered right, things like this were used to measure the passage of time, but as that had been unimportant to him, he’d never bothered learning how humans used them. He set it back down.
The handbook was here, too, as Renata had mentioned. Expecting a slim volume, the two-inch-thick tome surprised him. He’d need to get started on it soon if he wanted to get through it all.
There is another passage here! Nantli poked her head in from an opening on the den side of the study he hadn’t noticed before.
Chuckling at her excitement, Chanté smiled at her. I see. This means you can watch as I do whatever it is one does at the desk. Reading, for the moment.
She lay on the floor—forelegs, head, neck, and shoulders through the doorway—and set her chin on her forepaws. Her eyes glittered in the light of the sconces as she watched him.
He gave her another smile then flipped through the documents in the welcome kit until he found the requisition forms, one for Nantli and one for him. On each, he filled in his name and suite number, and on hers, he also included her name. He then read them over.
The tack for Nantli would include two saddles—once she was measured—along with seven sets of safety straps and five riding belts. He was familiar with saddles and their utilization, he’d observed humans using them on horses for some time, but he’d have to ask about the specifics of safety straps and riding belts. He’d never paid much attention to their particulars.
As far as his own requisition form, it seemed he’d be provided with five standard uniforms, two sets of dress gear, three sets of riding gear, and a dozen each, undershirts and smallclothes. He had a pair of smallclothes from the Caer’s laundry. The items were also called underwear, Quillan had explained, because they were worn under everything else. He’d put the garment on at the la
undry, along with a pair of the better-fitting trousers and shirt. All the layers of cloth felt more than a little constricting. Now that he had his own rooms, however, he might be able to forgo clothing while in them.
A knocking sound made him jump. He’d been so engrossed in reading, the sudden noise had startled him. He waited a moment, but there was nothing more. Nantli was in a light sleep or he would have asked whether she’d heard it. Perhaps he imagined it? He turned back to the form.
A louder knocking made him frown. It had come from the door. What was that? Wondering if it might be someone doing something in the hallway, perhaps one of the people he saw earlier, he opened the door to look outside.
A young woman stood just outside, facing him.
Chanté looked about, but she was the only person within ten feet of the door. He stared at her. “Did . . . did you hear that knocking sound?”
She blinked and drew her brows together. “That was me.”
“It was? Why were you making that sound?”
She raised her brows and tilted her head slightly. “To . . . let you know I was here?”
“Oh.” Well, that made sense. He noted that she wore some kind of uniform. “Oh! Are you the runner?”
She smiled. “I am. Are the forms ready?”
“They are, just a moment.” He stepped over to the desk and grabbed them. “Here you go.”
She looked them over, then nodded. “Excellent. As noted on the forms, tomorrow morning, stop by laundry to pick up some of this gear and to be measured, and stop by saddlery for the rest. You can find them both on the Guildhall maps.”
He nodded. “Okay.” Watching the runner head down the hallway, Chanté realized that he was not quite as uncertain what to do anymore when talking to people he didn’t know.
Just talk, indeed.
He was studying the maps—comprised of several sheets, each depicting a floor of a section of the Guildhall—when there was more knocking.
Knowing what it meant, now, Chanté opened the door. His eyes widened. A young man stood there, smiling. It was Aeron!
“Hi,” he said.
Of Gods, Trees, and a Sapling: Dragonlinked Chronicles Volume 4 Page 11
