Dragon Book, The

by Gardner Dozois

  She stood there, her back to me, after she’d finished the last of her heaves. I could see bone against her skin where it was not covered by her garment. How was she feeding that baby? She must be giving everything to it and keeping nothing for herself.

  A blade of pain stabbed me, an undragonlike hurt. Diamondflame says that sentiment is weakness. Maybe I have been among humans for too long. Or maybe I can never forget that my birth mother had given everything for me.

  Finally, Afra straightened, wiping her mouth on her wrist. She knelt and buried her vomit well. I wondered if the magic kept wolves away, if there were wolves in these mountains. I knew there were leopards. Did she use her spells to protect the cave at night, or did the strange magic keep the large killers away, as it did humans?

  Afra stumbled back to the cave, unsteady with weakness, and halted when she saw my new gift. She turned. Now she had to know that I had been close, to put that food there, and that maybe I was still close, watching. She scanned the rocks and the ground, searching for any sign of me. I had not left her even my footprints as clues.

  It was my first chance to give her a good look. She had the bronze skin of the northern Carthakis, snapping black eyes, and coarse black hair that she tied back with a shred of cloth. She was young and so thin, with strong muscles that stood against her skin. She was trembling, though I could not tell if it was from long weakness or from just vomiting.

  Suddenly, she bent and took my second gift of food. She hurried into the cave with it.

  I relaxed. I had given her two chicken-and-almond turnovers. I had stolen them, like everything else, from the emperor’s cooks. They were mild and should not make her ill if she ate them slowly.

  She would need vegetables, fruits, and meat. I would have to find a way to carry more, somehow. In particular, she had also vomited up the cheese. Daine’s midwife had been very strict with her on the subject of milk and cheese for a nursing mother. She said they needed that more than any other food and that goat’s milk was the best.

  I wondered if I could steal a goat.

  DAINE found me before I even reached our tent. “Kitten, where were you?” she cried, running up to me. “I’ve been looking everywhere! We were going to the village, remember?”

  I sat up on my hind legs and gave her my cutest, wide-eyed look, with chirp.

  Daine glared at me. “None of that, mistress. You’ve been up to something. You can’t fool your ma, remember?”

  She was right. It was very discouraging. I settled back on my haunches and looked more seriously at her. I sighed, then clasped my forepaws.

  “So you’ll tell me when you can. Will it get you in trouble with these folk?” she asked me.

  Afra didn’t live in the village. The boys had chased her away with stones. She did not belong to the village, and they did not want her there. I shook my head for Daine. The matter of the goat might be hard to explain, but I hadn’t taken one yet, so I was not lying.

  Daine bent down and picked me up. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked as she carried me to the tent.

  I shook my head. This was still my discovery.

  We had breakfast with Numair before the villagers came for my parents. When we three walked out of our tent, the strangers flinched at the sight of me and drew the Sign on their chests.

  Daine stiffened. “This is Skysong, our dragon,” she told them, her voice cold. “When our home was attacked, mages who opened a gate to the Divine Realms drew her mother through just as she was about to give birth.” She was careful not to say that it was their old emperor who had sponsored the attack. “I helped Flamewing deliver her little one, but Flamewing herself died protecting us. She left her child in our care. Kitten—that’s what we call her—is as friendly as can be. She’s saved many lives, human and animal alike.”

  “Her face looks like a crocodile’s,” said one of the females, an old and wrinkly one.

  Daine drew herself up. Numair settled her with a hand on her shoulder. “Kitten is a dragon,” he said to the old woman. “They are more intelligent than even we humans. She understands every word that you say.”

  “Why doesn’t she answer, then?” one of the males wanted to know.

  “She is too young,” Numair replied. “You will be centuries in the ground when she is able to talk.”

  That caused them to whisper among themselves. I never understood why people would be awed by that, when they were so unpleasant about my looks. Besides, for all they knew, Numair could have been lying. Still, they accepted his word that I would live much longer than they would, which was quite true, unless I was murdered.

  “If you wish your animals looked at, you will learn to like Kitten,” Daine told them. “Where I go, she goes. She may even do your creatures more good than I will.”

  I didn’t feel like doing good for anyone in the village walls after the way they had treated Afra.

  “Well, Master Numair, we’re to take you upriver, if you still wish to go,” the male who’d led these humans said. “No horses, if it please you. The ground’s too rocky along the riverbank as we head into the mountains. Can’t even take a mule that way.”

  Poor Spots, I thought. He’s stuck here again. I looked over at the horse lines to see how he did. Most of the soldiers’ mounts were gone, along with the emperor’s favorite riding horse. They were bandit hunting. Spots was talking with one of the horses that hauled the wagons. That would amuse him for a little while. He would escape his tether by midday.

  Numair and the men left on foot. The women looked at Daine and me, then seemed to come to a silent agreement. “If you will come with us?” the female who had spoken to Daine asked. We all set forward, the talker on Daine’s left, the other two behind her. I was on Daine’s right. “Two days back, Tahat’s chickens got sick. We’ve locked them in their coop, but that will be useless if it is a curse on the village. We think there is a witch hereabouts.”

  My ears pricked up. Did they mean Afra? I looked at Daine, and I had to snort. Her lips and nostrils had tightened right up. It would follow that in this village, whose humans had already irritated her by insulting me, she would first be asked to look at chickens. Her grandfather’s chickens, the ones she had grown up knowing, were the nastiest, trickiest birds she had ever met in her life. Now, even though she had met dozens of perfectly decent chickens, she could not bring herself to like them. She was certain that their pleasantness to her was just another chicken trick.

  If she had hated geese, I would have been more understanding. Geese have made my life a misery.

  While Daine listened to the chickens’ troubles, I let Tahat’s children sneak up on me and poke me with their fingers. When a neighbor boy tried to use a stick, I snatched it from him and hissed. That amused the women who were not watching Daine. They seemed to like me better for it. Tahat, who was too worried about her flock to be afraid of me, even brought me a small dish of milk.

  Daine saw that and warmed to her. “It’s no curse, only bird pox,” she said. “You were right to contain them before it spread to the other chickens. I can deal with it.” She looked up at the female who seemed to be the leader. “Will you help me?”

  I hardly noticed when one of the older children tugged my tail. There were chickens all over the village. I could hear them. If Daine had to check them for this illness, she would not be paying attention to my activities.

  First, she had to make friends with the village’s chief mage. While she had some kind of tea with that man, I busied myself by acquiring a few things: a round of cheese, four eggs, a woman’s robe, two lamb sausages, and more fruit. Covered with camouflage spells and keeping to back paths, I carried those things one at a time outside the open gate, where I piled them against the wall. I hid them with still more camouflage, this time a concealment not just of sight, but of a nest of vipers. I didn’t want the dogs to eat my loot.

  Last of all, I found an empty grain sack. I rolled it up and carried it outside the gate. First, I was careful to wrap
the eggs well in the robe. If they broke there, they could be washed out. I knew that Afra must have a water source, or she could not survive in the cave at all.

  Once I had filled my sack with all I had taken, I realized that I had listened to my ambition instead of my sense. I could not carry it. I was much too small. The path from the gate to our tent, or even partway to the invisible maze where Afra hid, was mostly open ground. If I dragged the sack—I was strong enough to do so, despite my size—folk would see the clear trail that the sack would leave in the dirt.

  I whistled my vexation. I had a spell I shaped of breath and will to brush away any marks I left on occasions like this. It did take a great deal of concentration. That was easy enough when I was on horseback with Daine, which was the last time I had needed it. It would be tiring if I had to keep an eye open for humans, hold camouflage magic over my sack and me, and drag that sack. I need to quickly reach the rocks, which were perfectly visible to me and invisible to humans.

  Again I had to wonder how Afra had found the cave. Did her dual Gift make it possible for her to see through the old barriers on that piece of land? Was the power that hid the cave hers to begin with?

  I shook my head as I tied the sack shut with some cord I had found. If she had used her Gift to create an invisible maze in open scrub, I would have been able to see its colors by daylight. Moreover, I would have been able to shatter all of it with my middling squawk. Also, those boys had acted as if their Maze had always been in that place. They were used to it.

  Gripping the neck of the sack in my teeth, I wriggled until it lay over my shoulder. There was no one in view inside the gate or outside. I set out, keeping an eye on my surroundings. Far off to my left, the soldiers who had stayed to guard the emperor’s camp lazily went about their chores. They had shifted the picketed horses off to a line of trees by the river. I hated to think of my friend Spots cooking in the sun, like I was. No one was following as I struggled away from the gate. The bag slid to and fro as I went forward, so that I half carried, half dragged it. I was leaving an unmistakable track.

  I halted briefly and took a deep, deep breath, then blew it into my cupped forepaw. I spun it around, blowing steadily, until I had a tornado as tall as I was. I drove it with my will, sending it over the unmistakable drag mark I’d left in my wake. Back and forth I swept it, then around and around, until the dirt no longer showed the trace of my sack. I kept the tornado with me as I trudged across the open ground. It swept over my trail, whisking my marks to nothing, until I crested a small rise in the ground and went down the far side. Once I was out of view of the road, I released my spinning winds. They scattered into the open air.

  I collapsed onto the ground, letting go of my camouflage briefly to rest. How could Daine and Numair do more than two pieces of magic at the same time? I was worn-out only by two, and by the effort of dragging my burden.

  I hated being young. And I would be young so much longer than a human child.

  I had to get up. There was too much risk of a human stumbling over me. The Carthaki sun was also a hammer on my scales. I rose, wove my camouflage spell again, and began to drag the sack toward the rocks.

  I had gone scarcely a hundred yards, and had reached the point of telling myself that I was a poor excuse for a dragon, when a horse called to me. I turned to look. Spots was on my trail, his tether in his mouth. I released my camouflage, let go of the sack, and trilled a welcome. I was so happy to see him!

  He trotted to me. I followed your scent. His slow, practical voice sounded amused in my mind. I knew you would have found a way to get into trouble by now. Let go of that bag. I did as I was bid, with relief. He gripped the neck of the sack and picked it up. It had been big for me. To Spots, it wasn’t as nearly heavy as one of Numair’s book-stuffed saddlebags, which he had also carried in this way. Why did you find something to do without bringing me? Spots asked. I always manage the heavy work for you.

  I hung my head. Then I made a fist, shook it at him, and pointed back at the camp. I still didn’t want to get him into trouble. Then I touched a claw tip to my chest and pointed to the walled village.

  Yes, that is a great deal of walking for a small dragon, Spots said. He always understood me. And I keep telling you, I will deal with the humans if they want to make trouble for me. It’s time they learned that not all horses can be bullied.

  I saw the warlike look in his eye and shook my head. Spots had been getting some strange ideas lately. I squeaked an apology and took his rein in my paw. He nudged me to let me know that he didn’t mind if I led him. Moving much faster now that I had his help with my burden, I took him to the rocks.

  When we touched the strange magic of the first barrier, Spots shied and yanked on the rein. His yank threw me into the air. I came down with a thud. Spots put down the sack and nuzzled me in apology. I’m sorry, he told me, guilt in his mind-voice. I didn’t know there was magic here. He gripped the sack again.

  I showed him two of my claws.

  Two magics, Spots said. How splendid.

  I whistled a shield that covered him nose to tail. I loved him because he let me lead him onward into the magic, through the first barrier. He stood firm while I worked spells to get us through the second barrier. Each time, he calmly went ahead when I chirped. I had not known until that day how much he trusted me.

  Once we were through, we hurried to Afra’s cave. I knew the sound of hooves ringing on stone would frighten her, but it was the fastest way to take the sack right to the cave’s mouth. After we left it there, we retreated to a side trail to wait.

  What do you have in there? Spots asked me.

  With gestures and poses I explained it was a human female with an infant.

  It would be easier to bring Daine or Numair, Spots reminded me. Not that you ever choose the easy path. I prefer to leave humans to humans, myself.

  I only sniffed at him. Spots always said he liked his life to be boring, but he was always there when I got up to something.

  Eventually, the baby began to cry. It cried in loud whoops, then softer ones. I dug my claws into the stone, wishing the noise would stop. Just when I hoped the baby was done, it began to scream. That was when Afra came to take the sack.

  She dragged it back into the cave, then called, “Who are you? Why do you help us? If you really wish to be my friend, show yourself!”

  Afra didn’t think that last night’s monster was the one who left food for her today. Yet why demand to see me? What good could it do? I looked up at Spots. He shrugged his withers, a human gesture he’d learned. He didn’t know, either.

  I didn’t want to chatter or make friends. That baby needed its mother’s milk, and the best way for its mother to make milk was for her to eat food, and to drink milk. That meant I still needed to steal a goat. She was wasting my time. I had only waited to be sure she took the sack at all.

  “I know you are still here,” she cried. “I heard your horse. You are quite close by; I listened to the hoofbeats.”

  Kraken spit, I thought.

  Spots put his muzzle at the center of my back and pushed. Do as she asks. We did not raise you to be rude.

  It was an easy thing for him to say. She had not hit him on the head and called him a monster.

  I showed him my fist, meaning this would not go well. He nudged me again until I fell onto all four legs. I glared up at him.

  I mean it, Kitten, Spots told me. Go. He shoved my rump forward, nearly driving my muzzle into the dirt.

  I ran as much away from him as toward the cave. The stubborn beast followed. He was determined that Afra should see me. Once he took up for someone, there was nothing he would not do for them. That included ordering me about.

  Afra saw Spots first because he was taller. Her quick eyes took in his lack of a saddle or rider, and his knotted tether. Then she saw me.

  “You again!” she cried. She flung her hand out. A twining flare of magic, mixed pale blue and pale green ropes that would burn an ordinary mortal to the groun
d, sped from her fingers.

  Afra’s spell washed over me. It stung, a little. Then it flowed up, meeting the magical barrier overhead in bursts of gold sparkles. I wanted to grip some, but Afra was not done with me.

  Brighter two-colored fires lashed from her hand. I could feel their strength—if they hit me, they would hurt. I raised a shield of my own power that would cover Spots and me. Her Gift splashed against it and was sucked into the magic overhead. It blazed gold.

  The earth quivered, an anxious horse about to break free of all control. Uh-oh, Spots said. Did you feel that?

  I looked at Afra. She was intent on working another spell. The earth shook hard, knocking her down. The stones beside the mouth of the cave trembled. If the shake got harder, there was danger to the cave.

  Spots and I raced forward together without needing to check with one another. We were old campaigners; we knew what had to be done. The ground rolled. Spots scrambled for footing as small stones fell and hit Afra. Spots lunged and got a mouthful of her robe. I raced past him into the cave. Afra screamed as a large rock fell behind me, half-blocking the cave’s mouth.

  For a moment, I could not move. Inside the cave, a welcoming warmth enclosed me. It reminded me of how I felt when Daine held me. I thought I heard a whispering song in a strange language I almost knew. Dazed, I touched the cave wall. It was glassy and warm, an assembly of tiny beads. I wanted to stay there forever.

  Then the baby screamed. Somehow I forced myself to break that spell of love and safety to walk deeper into the cave. Another shake inspired me to run, my night vision showing me all the dangers. Afra had a small fire going in the chamber she had turned into her home. I buried that in case falling rock scattered hot embers everywhere. The baby lay beside the fire, swaddled and tucked into a carry-basket. I whistled a lifting spell until I could wriggle my forepaws into the straps. Then, as another shiver rocked the ground under my feet, I began to run, or rather, to slog.