The Lost Dragons of Barakhai

by Mickey Zucker Reichert

  “Orna and Narladin,” Aisa corrected the names.

  Zylas simply stared at Collins, brows rising in increments.

  Collins flushed, realizing his mistake. “That wouldn’t look suspicious or anything—guys running around as humans when they’re supposed to be Lassie or Mr. Ed.”

  Zylas smiled, though, no matter the translation, he could not possible get the nuances of the joke. “Horses.”

  “So, we have to go in while Orlon and Aladdin—”

  “Orna and Narladin,” Aisa restored the names again.

  “—are in human form without raising suspicions from anyone who thinks he’s seeing double.”

  “Essentially.” Zylas left the table to sit cross-legged on the floor near Prinivere. “We’ll have people keeping the real Orna and Narladin engaged and away from the castle.”

  Ijidan crawled cautiously across the chest, snatched a nut from Collins’ plate, then ran with it. Becoming accustomed to animals in his food, Collins barely tracked the squirrel with his gaze. “So, these guys—”

  Aisa interrupted again, “Man and woman.”

  Collins jerked his attention to the bird/ woman. “What?”

  “Orna is a woman,” she explained.

  Now Collins whipped his attention to Zylas. “You’d better be being the woman.”

  Zylas looked away.

  “Aw, crap.” Collins shook his head. “I have to be a woman?” He shook harder, sending his brown hair into disarray. “Why can’t you be the woman?”

  Zylas looked at Prinivere, who bowed her nose to his head. He looked back at Collins with a neutral expression, though his eyes sparkled with mirth. “Switch time,” he reminded.

  “We could work around that.” Collins suspected they could, though it would unnecessarily complicate the matter.

  Aisa let out an indignant snort. “What’s wrong with being a woman?”

  Collins backpedaled wildly. “Nothing at all—if you are one. But I don’t know anything about being female.” He threw up his hands. “Hell, if I understood women, I’d have one as a girlfriend.” Probably along with a Nobel peace prize.

  “Orna’s known for being moody and somewhat standoffish,” Zylas said.

  That did not further endear the part he had to play to Collins. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It’s not supposed to mean anything. It’s supposed to serve as an excuse for why you’re not wasting time and energy trying to interact with other guards and servants when you need to keep focused on a secret mission.”

  Good point. Collins still felt suspicious of the role, and he looked anxiously to the dragon.

  “Are you going to actually turn me into a woman?”

  *Only your face will resemble Orna’s. That’s as much as the spell can do. The rest you will have to . . . handle.*

  “Handle,” Collins repeated aloud. So long as he avoided a communal bath, he saw no reason to do anything more than tape a few socks to his chest. He might not even need to do that. Athletic women tended to have boyish bodies, and his would definitely pass. “For how long will I have a woman’s face?”

  Prinivere fidgeted, which alarmed Collins. He had never before seen her reveal her discomfort.

  “What?” he demanded, ignoring Zylas’ frown. The rat/man would not like the way his companion addressed the lady.

  *We don’t know,* Prinivere admitted. *The others have lasted only until their change, but you . . .*

  “ . . . don’t change,” Collins finished for her, terror creeping into his heart. His chest felt full. “You mean, I might have a girl face forever?”

  *Not likely, but I can’t say for sure.*

  Clearly still irritated with Collins’ discomfort, Aisa muttered, “It would be an improvement.”

  *The illusion might not carry into your world.*

  The dragon’s words did not soothe him. “The translation spell did.”

  *At the worst, I can make another illusion to restore your face.*

  At first repulsed by the idea, Collins forced himself to consider it. If the first mask took, he had no reason to think the second would not also. She might even be able to improve upon the original, to even out his ears, to enhance the chin and cheekbones, to widen eyes that tended to squint and add more green to the hazel.

  *I can do all that,* Prinivere sent, reading his thoughts again. *Though I don’t know how long any of it might last.*

  Collins realized he would have a tough enough time explaining his new look without having to worry about it wearing off at some inconvenient time. Finding himself no longer hungry, he rose. His concern about a cross gender disguise seemed suddenly ludicrous compared to the Herculean task he had accepted. His reticence had to appear inexplicable to people who daily turned into creatures whose differences from their normal state went way beyond gender. “All right,” he said in a resigned tone, accepting everything in two simple words that scarcely began to cover the situation. He was about to risk his life—again—for a cause in which he had no stake but the happiness of friends that, even if the plan worked perfectly, he might never see again.

  The room itself seemed to huff out a relieved sigh. Korfius came to Collins for affection that the man delivered by petting. The normalcy of the interaction allowed Collins to forget the future for a few moments. He closed his eyes, his mind carrying him back to Algary campus where he sat on his bed stroking the dog, escaping only the familiar pressures of impending exams and assignments.

  Korfius loosed a contented sigh, then whined softly, rose, repositioned his body, and settled beneath Collins’ hand again. Wondering if the dog’s restlessness stemmed from sensing his own discomfort, Collins sucked in a deep breath through his nose then exhaled it through his mouth, trying to blow away the tension. Korfius loosed a long whine that was almost a howl, filled with entrenched and inexplicable pain. The dog disappeared from beneath Collins’ hand.

  Collins cycled another calming breath, then opened his eyes. Korfius huddled in a dark corner of the cave, no longer a dog but a naked, shivering boy. A mop of blond hair fell around his heart-shaped, pale face; and he hugged his long, scrawny legs with arms equally so.

  Aisa headed toward the boy, but Collins scrambled to get there first. No matter how inexperienced a comforter he was, he would be preferred. By skidding in front of Aisa, he did reach Korfius first, though the parrot/woman had to stumble backward to keep from running into him.

  Collins put his arm around the sobbing boy, saying nothing, allowing the child to find his voice at his own pace. At length, Korfius shifted position, burying his tear-streaked face in Collins’ grimy shirt, and managed to sob out muffled words. “Why—why—we’re . . . back in Barakhai, aren’t we?”

  “Yes.” Collins pulled Korfius closer, sparking a dim memory of worrying about petting him in dog form because it might seem like child molestation. Though he now held a naked boy, he did not worry about a matter that now seemed silly and trivial. Korfius needed him, and he would support his best friend as well as he could. There was nothing sexual about comforting a loved one.

  “Don’t you . . .” Korfius wheezed out. “Don’t you . . . want me anymore?”

  “Want you?” Collins repeated. He squeezed Korfius. “We’re a team, Korfy-pup.” He used the pet name that had stuck after a woman in his housing complex had coined it. “Forever.”

  Korfius snuggled against Collins. “Forever?”

  “Forever,” Collins said emphatically, though he had no idea how long “forever” might last, given the risky assignment he had just accepted. At least until tomorrow.

  “Then why . . . ?” Korfius started but never finished. He seemed to struggle with words as he never had before, presumably because he had not used any for longer than a year and a half.

  “Zylas and Falima asked me to come, and I did. I wasn’t going to leave my forever pal behind.” Feeling guilty for every second he had forgotten Korfius’ origins and had treated him as just another dog, Collins listened inten
tly and hoped he was getting through. “Besides, I wanted to talk to you.”

  Korfius sniffled, and the tears stopped. He looked up at Collins. “To me?”

  “To you,” Collins confirmed.

  “Why me?”

  The answer seemed so obvious, Collins laughed but stopped the moment Korfius looked affronted. “I want to make sure you’re happy living with me. That you don’t need anything I’m not providing. That I’m feeding you okay.”

  Korfius wiped the tears from his eyes with a fist. “I like being a dog all the time. That’s every lesariat’s dream.” He rubbed at the other eye. “And I like having you as my master.”

  Collins cringed. With Korfius in human form, it made him feel like a slaver. “You’re sure?”

  “No one forced me to come to your world,” Korfius reminded.

  “Well, no, but . . .”

  “And I could leave if I wanted to, right?”

  Stunned, Collins only nodded. “I . . . never thought about that.”

  Korfius sat up, freeing himself from Collins’ grip. The tears had completely stopped, and his words came more easily. “Sure. I know where stuff is. Just ‘cause I’m a dog doesn’t mean I’m dumb.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Collins agreed, rocking back on his heels. Remembering the others, he looked around the cave. No one seemed to be paying any attention to them. Aisa and Zylas cleaned up the remains of breakfast without so much as a glance in their direction. Prinivere dozed in her corner. “Are you happy with your food?”

  Korfius shrugged. “I like the stuff you eat the best,” he admitted. “And that’s mostly all I get from you. Some of the others give me that kibble junk. It’s not as yummy, but I know it’s better for me, and I’ve got plenty of things to just chew on. I’d like to have you with me all the time, but I know you have to go to class and stuff.” His young face screwed into a sidelong knot. “I honestly think I’d miss my quiet nap if you stayed home every day.”

  Collins could scarcely believe that a dog who had spent part of his life as a boy could be content with the simple ways of an average American dog. It also surprised him to learn that others in his building were feeding his dog.

  “In fact, I think you should go out more.” Korfius managed a smile. “With a lady who really really likes dogs.”

  Collins laughed, feeling like a divorced father. “Likes to pet them all day long?”

  “That would be nice.”

  Collins thought he would have a million questions—not many people got the opportunity to talk to their dogs—yet he found himself thinking hard to come up with even one. “Do you . . . understand me . . . when I talk to you when you’re a dog?”

  Korfius bobbed his head vigorously, and the yellow locks flew. “Mostly I do. More so the last few months. Overlap gets better the more time you spend in animal form.”

  Collins remembered hearing that before, which explained why Regulars usually gained overlap faster than Randoms. Usually, he added to himself, thinking of Zylas’ near-perfect overlap. Other factors included practice, desire, natural ability, and level of distractions. On the other hand, it seemed wrong to refer to spending life in one form as “overlap.” “So,” Collins tried to summarize, “you’re basically happy?”

  Korfius smiled. “I’m happy,” he confirmed. The grin wilted. “Or was. Until you brought me back here. Now I have to deal with switching again. And don’t the royals want us dead?”

  Thinking of a very touchy subject, Collins lowered his voice to make certain none of the others could overhear. He hoped Prinivere’s mind reading did not carry this far or, if it did, that she had her attention turned elsewhere.

  “Does it bother you that your food contains . . . meat?”

  “It does?”

  Though Korfius’ tone did not contain the condemnation and horror Collins expected, he still grimaced. “I’m sorry. I eat it. And all dog food and treats have it.” He suspected some protein-balanced organic kibble might exist in some vegan store, but he doubted he could afford to buy it.

  Korfius stretched his limbs, a few dried tears on his cheeks the only remaining sign of his sadness. “I knew some of our shared food was, but that’s okay. I know it’s not a bad thing in your world.” He added, as if Collins might have forgotten, “Eating meat. It’s okay there.” He lowered his voice to a guilty whisper. “I like it.”

  “Me, too,” Collins whispered back. He had toyed with the idea of going vegetarian on his return from Barakhai, but the hospital food had not given him much of a chance and he had found the lure of fast food irresistible. He did deliberately avoid the pet foods that contained horsemeat as an ingredient. “Our dirty little secret, all right?”

  Korfius nodded.

  Collins felt as if he had taken little away from a conversation he had risked death to have. “So I should just treat you like a normal dog?”

  Korfius jerked back, as if affronted. “Oh, no. You should treat me like a spoiled, pampered prince of a dog. Like . . . on that show we saw.”

  Show? Collins did occasionally turn on his tiny television in the evenings for relaxation. He considered, remembered the Dateline special on people who baby their pets, and laughed. “Well, you can forget the steak every night. Their dogs don’t live long enough to have to worry about cholesterol levels and heart attacks—”

  “Chol-what?”

  “—but I’ll work on the full-sized bed of your own when I graduate and have a good job.”

  “No, thanks.” Korfius yawned. “I’d rather sleep on yours.”

  “Great.” Collins laid on the sarcasm, not nearly as bothered as he claimed by waking up several times a night with a dog head on his leg or belly. In winter, he appreciated the warm body beside him, and it allowed him to forget he always slept alone. Since his breakup with Marlys, he had not had a relationship serious enough to last longer than a couple of dates, and his last sexual encounter had been with Carrie Quinton. Not that he had not had the opportunity. The notoriety his mysterious brush with death had gained him, along with the improvements physical therapy had made to his skinny physique had brought him the first flirtations of his life. Since his trials in Barakhai, the college girls seemed flighty, obsessed with the insignificant: all games and looks and alcohol. None of the unattached postgrads suited him. Somewhere along the line, he had fallen prey to the romantic notion of that one perfect mate, and not one of the girls he had met in the last year came close to fulfilling it.

  Collins wondered how much of that to attribute to the meltdown of his own family. His parents had divorced soon after he left the nest, and each had become thoroughly preoccupied with his or her own affairs. Collins had ended up in Barakhai the first time because he had had no family to visit over the Thanksgiving holiday. Despite all that had happened, despite his mother’s dutiful visits as he recovered and his father’s calls from his European vacation, Collins had found himself stuck in the laboratory again over the next year’s four-day weekend. Like Korfius’ lesariat parents, they had raised him and then purged him, and one another, from their lives. Korfius professed not to miss his parents or his seven same-age brothers and sisters, who, like him, had an overwhelming doggy side.

  Oblivious to the turn of Collins’ thoughts, Korfius continued, “I like tug-of-war, and you don’t have to worry that it’ll make me vicious, despite what Maia says.” He referred to one of Collins’ neighbors, a long-legged redhead who considered herself the dorm authority on animal training. “I like the big biscuits, the brown ones—not the little multicolored ones. I’m not the one who took Bernice’s shoe; it got kicked under the common room couch. I like Tom, but I wish he’d quit ruffling my back fur the wrong way. Dan’s got the perfect touch on ear scratching.” Korfius rolled his gaze directly onto Collins. “You could learn from him. I would never poop or pee inside, so tell Nita to stop worrying. Nick smells too much like a cat not to be hiding one. And, by the way, you have huge roaches; and they’re delicious.”

  Collins laughed. “S
low down. I don’t have anything to write this down with.”

  Korfius continued in the same tone, as if he did not hear. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need a nap.” Without further ado, he paced a circle, curled into a ball, and closed his eyes.

  Collins rose from his haunches and took a seat on one of the chests, trying to remember all of Korfius’ revelations. He now knew that his long-lived dog was intelligent and not color-blind but, nonetheless, a dog and Korfius had no desire to become human again. It seemed strange to Collins who, if given the option of reincarnation would definitely choose to, once again, be a man. Though he might enjoy trying out an animal form for a short time, he had no desire to become one for a lifetime, quick-witted or otherwise.

  Zylas came up beside Collins. “Did you find out what you wanted to know?”

  Collins bobbed his head noncommittally. “I suppose.”

  “Not what you expected?” Zylas guessed.

  Collins’ wishy-washy gesture morphed into a clear shrug. “I don’t know what I expected. Korfius is happy with his life, which is all I really needed to hear.”

  Zylas studied Collins through his pale blue eyes. “You’re not happy?”

  “I’m . . . happy, I guess. I just . . .” Collins paused, uncertain what he wanted to say. “Talking about Korfius’ life got me thinking about my own.”

  Zylas gestured for Collins to continue.

  But Collins shook his head. “It’s silly, really. My world has so much compared to yours. And yet . . .” He shook his head again. “Don’t mind me. I’m a fool.”