by Mirren Hogan
"We were talking about Dashka. I don't want to talk about Del anymore," she said firmly. "He's in the past. Although, speaking of the past, it seems the memories Nehko showed her were mild compared to the ones you shared with me." They were brutal, savage and terrifying. Even now she was able to picture the faces of the magin as Risper's flames encompassed and incinerated them. The screams filled her mind before she willed them away. He'd never showed her again, but those brief glimpses had been more than enough.
My truth of my past was not pretty, he said, sounding apologetic. I regret much of it. But when I showed you those images, the bond was not yet complete. Had you recoiled and rejected me, there would have been no harm to your mind, or mine.
"So it was a test?"
Of sorts. The human mind is fragile and can only take so much. I needed to know that you could accept the bond, even when pushed to the very limits of your tolerance.
"You know," she said, putting her hands on her hips and looking up at him, "I'm not sure that was very nice."
He rumbled in reply. You may be correct, dear Kaida, but your mind is strong indeed, as is Dashka's. Once she stops blaming the past for the present, she will be all right.
"Oh. You think she blames Ara and Nehko for her having to hide her magic all this time? And because of that, her mother's rejection, her aunt's death. All of it." Kaida sat on the second lowest step and tapped her fingers on the stone beside her. "And I told her that we need to understand history and how it fits into the present."
You are correct in this, he assured her, but we all need to live in the now. She will learn that.
"I suppose so." Kaida said. She hesitated for a moment before asking, "What you showed me, was that the worst of it?"
He didn't reply straight away. When he did, his tone was somber. No, that was not the worst I have seen, but that is for my mind only. I will not share that with you. You would not like it. However, I have many pleasant memories. You might enjoy seeing some of those. Have I shown you my hatching?
"Yes, but can I see it again?" she asked eagerly.
It would be my pleasure, he said, blinking slowly. Let your mind clear.
Kaida leaned against the side of the stairs and closed her eyes.
As the days went by, the space felt smaller and smaller. Once he had room to roll, kick and stretch his wings a little. Now there was none. He was pressed into a section of the egg, curled tightly into a ball. Hunger sent pangs to his belly and he licked the yolk, giving him sustenance and a little more room. It wouldn't be long now. That was lucky, he had an itch in his foot he couldn't hope to reach. He pressed it against the side of the egg and rubbed.
The itch subsided. The egg cracked. Oops, was that supposed to happen?
He pressed against it a little more. A shard broke away, allowing him to stick a clawed foot and part of his leg out into the air. It was cold.
He tried to retract the limb, but it no longer seemed to fit in the egg. He waved it around and tried to change position. He succeeded only in cracking off another piece of egg. Now two legs poked out.
The egg rolled. He went with it, claws scrabbling to make contact with the ground. Maybe he could stabilise himself somehow.
Someone was laughing. Instinct told him it was directed at him. Were his legs protruding from the egg somehow comical? He angled his head to look down at them. They did look odd.
Tired, he flopped down to catch his breath. Breathing air, that was new. He inhaled the scents from outside the egg but couldn't make much sense of any of them. It was like a dozen sounds at once and trying to understand them when he'd never heard sound before.
He wiggled his legs in the air and heard laughing again. Sound was something he did comprehend. Partly because noise passed through his egg, and partly because his mind was able to access that of the person laughing. Yes, they were laughing at him.
Feeling a little affronted, he started hitting at the egg with his head. The egg cracked and then split, spilling him onto the ground. Fortunately, the surface beneath him was a pile of leaves, and some other vegetation designed to soften his entrance into the world. He rolled clear of the egg and looked up.
Looming over him, was a huge head. He blinked in alarm until he realised it was only his mother, checking to be sure he'd arrived intact.
Are you hungry?
Apparently, he didn't need to answer. Her head swung away, and when it swung back she held a dead thing between her teeth. It smelled of fear, recent death and tasty meat. She deposited the chicken beside him and stepped aside to attend to his sibling, who had also broken free of her egg-prison.
He glanced around, seeking the person who had laughed at him. Several people stood close by, each wearing trousers and tunics in rough spun fabric, over well-worn boots. Several of them wore swords at their hips, and had hair over their chins. A quick probe with his mind and he knew these were male. The ones with protuberances on their chests in different sizes and shapes were female.
It was one of the hairy-faced men who had laughed at him. His mind was full of derision, which made him recoil.
Another hairy-face stepped forward and smile up at his mother.
"What name do you give for this one?" he called out, waving a hand in his direction.
I name him Risper, she replied. The other will be Anvera.
"Fancy names indeed, Hatri," the man said.
The man behind him laughed. "You shouldn't indulge her, Maros, she's just an animal."
Maros' smile never faltered. "Ah no, Kasin, the dragons are so much more. You'll see."
Kasin grumbled and stalked away.
Aware now that he wouldn't be ridiculed for his staggering steps, Risper wobbled over to the chicken and bit down into it. Blood squirted, still warm, into his mouth. He jerked back in surprise, but it only lasted a moment. The taste of blood made him hungrier still.
He grabbed the chicken and crunched it down, feathers, bones and all. No sooner had he swallowed and burped to clear his airways, then another chicken was placed beside the puddle of blood left by the first. This one he ate more cleanly. He licked his jaws and drops of blood from the leaves afterward.
Gradually, he became aware that all the eyes were on him and his sister. Was he supposed to do something? He looked up at his mother and blinked.
You will need to bond a human, she told him, but you don't have to choose right away.
Not Kasin, Risper said.
His mother rumbled in response. No, not him. His mind is too closed and dark. Choose one whose mind is open, like Maros.
Maros is . . . yours? Risper asked, trying to understand this new and strange world.
Aye, she agreed, most of those gathered have vied to become draakin, and found worthy. Choose one of those.
They all choose me?
Readily. But you may only bond one.
Risper regarded them all. How do I know which is best?
You may not know, but you will bond many in your life. This will be but the first.
Risper wobbled toward his mother, trying not to fall on his face. This walking thing was difficult, and his scales were still damp, making him heavier.
Can I sleep first?
She rumbled again. Of course. But do not dally too long. You will need to bond by the time the sun sets tomorrow.
As he lay down at her feet, he felt a wave of disappointment from those gathered. They all wanted him to pick them, and they grew impatient for him to do so. He would not rush. He would rest, then he would bond. Hatching was hard enough work.
He closed his eyes and let his mind wander, searching the candidates for his draakin. Before he slipped to sleep, his decision was made.
Chapter Twenty-One
The step from the train to the platform was over a small gap but arriving in Paryos was like entering another world. Even before Del left the train, his senses were assaulted with sounds, smells and sights like he hadn't experienced in many years. He seriously considered hopping into the carriage and
letting himself be taken back to the relative peace of Tsaisa.
Only having to move aside to let someone else disembark got him to make his way from the train, suitcase in hand. Once a few steps away, he could only go with the flow of people leaving the station. In front of him walked an excited family, enough luggage to contain everything they owned in the world. Perhaps they too had made this journey as a change of residence.
In front of them walked half a dozen men and women, moving with purpose, weaving through crowds like they'd done so all their lives. Locals, Del guessed. He couldn't imagine achieving that kind of confidence amongst the crowds. This, he reminded himself, was why he'd stayed in Tsaisa even after there was nothing left there for him. People had never been his strong suit.
He stepped aside and waited for the rush out of the station to subside. That gave him time to draw a map from his pocket and try to work out where he had to go. He'd circled the station with a writing tool so that was easy to see. Looking from street to page and back, he ascertained that he had to turn left and walk though the bazaar, then north in the direction of the waterfront.
"I can do this," he muttered to himself.
A train worker gave him a funny look as he passed, but Del only gave him an awkward smile in return. His clothes, a year or two out of fashion would mark him as from a rural area as it was. No doubt they'd expect odd behaviour along with that. Still, he should probably avoid talking to himself out loud.
He stepped out onto the street and headed toward the bazaar. That was easy to find; the heady scent of spices drew him straight toward it. He hadn't intended to stop for food, but seeing people walking about holding wooden skewers of cooked meat changed his mind. He couldn't eat on the train, it upset his stomach, and now he was hungry.
He located the vendor and lined up behind several people. A few tried to haggle without success, so by the time it was his turn, he pulled out a copper braid and handed it over in return for a beef skewer.
He stepped aside, slid off a chunk of meet with his teeth and ate while walking slowly around the bazaar.
He was half way through his meal when a man stepped out on front of him, a handful of flowers in his arms.
"Hey, buy some flowers," the man said, pushing them forward.
"Uh, no thank you." Del tried to side step, but the man matched his movement.
"Come on friend, I'm a poor flower seller, I need the braids." The man's moustache twitched as he frowned, his mouth turning downwards sadly. Belying his demeanour, his eyes looked shrewd.
"Don't listen to him." The stall beside the flower seller sold clothing in a riot of colours that Del would never dare to wear. The clothing vendor was a tall, jovial looking man, wearing pants that wouldn't be out of place beside his neighbour's blooms. "He's not poor. He's full of—"
"Hey," the flower vendor protested, "mind your own business. I am poor."
"Excuse me." Del stepped around them both and hurried away as the pair exchanged friendly banter.
He finished his skewer and tossed the stick into a refuse bin as he walked past. Judging by the overflow, the day had been a busy one.
He found himself on the other side of the bazaar, but wasn't sure which direction to head now. The buildings were tall enough that north was difficult to determine.
"Are you lost?" a voice asked.
"I beg your pardon?" He looked down to see a young woman, little more than a girl really, looking up at him.
"I said are you lost?"
Was it that obvious? He supposed it was. He was standing on the side of the street with a suitcase in his hand.
"Yes I am, can you tell me the way to the reasoners' headquarters?"
Her headed bobbed up and down. "Sure. For four copper braids. For a silver I'll keep you company for the night."
He blinked at her. "How old are you?"
"Old enough."
"I doubt that." She couldn't have been more than twelve or thirteen. "Never mind, I'll find my own way."
Her shoulders sagged. It was probably part of the act, but he reached into his pocket.
"I'll give you two silver braids if you go home to you parents."
She held out a hand eagerly and bolted the moment he dropped the braids onto her palm.
"A fool and his braids are soon parted," he muttered, earning himself another odd look from a passer by.
He chose a direction and continued walking. A glimpse of the ocean between two buildings told him he was heading the right way.
In the end, his nose found the docks. Between the smells of sea water, refuse and industry, he smelled it long before he got there. The closer he got, the more he became aware of the sound of hammering. He soon discovered workers installing what looked like a new dock.
"Which way now?" he muttered, giving up on what people thought of his talking aloud.
"Hey, you got any food?" An urchin appeared beside him and tugged on his sleeve.
"I have some bread in my suitcase," Del replied, "you can have it if you tell me which way the reasoner headquarters are."
"Yes, bread. That way." The urchin pointed.
Del knelt, opened his case and pulled out the bread neatly wrapped in muslin.
"Are you sure it's that way?" he asked, holding the bread away from the urchin.
"Yes, that way. Bread now?"
Del handed him the bread and he darted away.
"So much for the wealth of Paryos." He closed his case and stood. Hopefully he hadn't been lied to.
He stepped aside to let a carriage pass and followed it in the direction he'd been told. He hadn't gone far when he realised that something was odd in this part of the city. Almost every building he passed was either damaged, being repaired or looked newly repaired. He'd heard rumours on the train about a wave hitting the city, but he hadn't paid it much attention. It seemed the gossip was right. No doubt it was one of those once in a lifetime events, and nothing to worry about, but he moved with trepidation now, stepping around work crews and looking with curiosity.
Several newly repaired buildings had already been vandalised, a fact which made him frown. Someone, or several someones had painted a Y on the side of the buildings. For what purpose he couldn't guess, but it certainly wasn't to beautify Paryos.
Shaking his head, he stepped down a street, much of which showed evidence of recent repairs. One bore the symbol of the bards' hall. It looked to have born the brunt of the damage, but bards walking in and out suggested it was back in operation.
He sidestepped a puddle that might be water. On the next block he stopped in front of an imposing structure, bordered with high, black gates. He didn't need to look for the reasoner symbol, the guards in black uniforms were a clear indication that he'd found the headquarters.
For yet another time today, he felt the urge to flee home to Tsaisa. The idea of stepping foot inside those gates and taking up his new life here was little short of petrifying. Because of that, he had to push on. He'd done wrong by Daven. If he were honest with himself, he'd done wrong by Kaida too. He didn't deserve to have either of them in his life. Both of them were better people than he was.
This self-imposed, and governor-imposed exile, was his penance for what he'd done. If he spent the rest of his life here in misery, it'd be well deserved.
Before the guards could think him odd, he stepped toward the gates and reached into his pocket. He lowered his case to the ground and unfolded the letter before handing it to the nearest guard.
The man looked him over, took the sheet of paper and read it before handing it to his companion. She too read the letter and nodded.
"Very well." She handed the letter back and stepped aside. "Through the front doors. There's a desk in there, they'll show you where to go."
"Thank you." Del tucked the letter back into his pocket and picked up his case. Gravel crunched under his feet as he approached the door. Like the uniforms, the doors were also black, shiny and intimidating. One stood open, but even that left twice the amount of sp
ace he needed to pass through.
He gave a longing glance back at the street then stepped over the threshold.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Del had never seen anything like the reasoner headquarters. Where the Dragonhall was run down and crumbling, nothing here appeared to be anything less than new. Everything shone as though it had either just been put in place or was polished only moments ago.
The walls were dark stone, each carved into perfect lines and laid with precision by a master bricklayer. The mortar between each course could have been measured down to the last drop before each stone was placed. No windows faced the street, but he noticed several across the grand entrance. A training yard lay beyond that. The window frames were oak, unless he missed his guess, all as well maintained as everything else here. For a moment he thought the windows lacked glass, but decided the panes were simply cleaned with precision.
Kaida would hate it. She always preferred homely places that made anyone feel welcome. The headquarters was the exact opposite; made to impress. And it did.
He found the desk easily enough. It too was made from oak and looked like it would withstand a dozen waves. Judging by the pristine surface, it hadn't been there long. A matter of days if he was any judge. Which to be fair, he wasn't. Still, it bore no sign of prior use that he could see.
A woman sat behind it, attired the same as all the other reasoners. She looked like she knew how to use the sword on her hip. She glanced at the letter and led Del into an office, knocking before pushing the door open and stepping inside.
"This man is here to see you sir," she said.
"Thank you Umia, you may go."
The woman closed the door behind her, leaving Del alone with a man behind a desk which was actually well-used, but no less sturdy than the previous one.
The man rose and offered his hand. "General Russkan Zand. Judging by the hour of your arrival, you must be Delorum Issel."
