Dragon Book, The

by Gardner Dozois

  “Not a surf-dragon,” Slane said absently. “I don’t think so. Apparently, she doesn’t either.” He held out his palm, and the dragonlet, after a moment of hesitation, stepped onto it and walked up his arm to his shoulder, poking her snout into his hair and investigating his ear. “Tahlia … do you know why the grove people call your eyes bad luck?”

  Tahlia put one of the steaming cups in front of him, didn’t look at him. “Because they think my mother … she mated with a Kark … a hardlander.” The whisper came out harsh. Kir had turned away, so she wouldn’t see the pity in his face.

  “That’s Andir talking, isn’t it?”

  Slane’s sharp tone made her look up. “Who else has golden eyes? Only the Kark!”

  “It’s been so long we’ve forgotten.” He sighed. “We should not have forgotten.” He winced as the dragonlet probed through his hair with one claw. “Easy, little one, that hurts.” He turned his attention back to Tahlia. “You know the story of the sea-dragons?”

  “Sure.” She shrugged. “They protected the grove peoples with magic and kept the Kark on the hardland. Then, one day, the Crone called to them, and they all flew up to the moon. It’s just a story for babies, Slane.”

  “Stories often have roots in reality.” Slane smiled as the dragonlet leaped from his shoulder, her vestigial wings flailing, to land with a thump on the tabletop. She threaded her way delicately between the teapot and mugs, her claws scratching the wood, then scrambled onto Tahlia’s shoulder and wrapped her long, finned tail around Tahlia’s neck.

  “The sea-dragons protected the grove peoples because they bonded with some grove dwellers who could speak with them.” Slane blew on his tea. “The Kark weren’t the only ones with magic, back then. If the bonded person died, the dragon no longer protected the grove where that person lived. Dragon loyalty is … limited.”

  Kir snorted, and the dragonlet flicked her tongue at him.

  “I didn’t know they had loyalty,” Tahlia said, thinking of the many times she’d had to paddle home after her surf-dragons had lost interest and taken off. “I mean, sort of, but not very consistent, you know?”

  We do. We are very loyal. The dragonlet prodded her ear with her narrow snout. And your eyes look fine to me.

  “Ouch. Okay. And thank you.” Tahlia felt her face heat as she realized Slane and Kir were staring at her.

  “I take it she agrees with me.” Slane took a slow sip of tea, his expression thoughtful. “The Kark realized that the way to eliminate the dragons was to kill the bonded human. And that’s what they did.” He set his cup down. “They sent out assassins to find and kill anyone with dragon-speaking blood. Then, once the dragon was gone, they raided that grove and killed everyone to the last person. Just to be certain that the bloodline was extinguished. You see, the ability to speak with dragons is inherited, Tahlia. And most dragon-speakers had … golden eyes.”

  Badluck golden eyes. Tahlia stared at him, and on her shoulder, the dragonlet hissed and extended her neck, her silver eyes sparking with anger, her wings rising and seeming to expand.

  A sudden small gust whipped through the dome, sending weed-paper scrolls fluttering to the floor.

  The healer nodded. “The Kark have us doing their work for them.” His voice was bitter. “In many groves, a golden-eyed child is … set adrift at birth. That’s why your mother came to this grove. I … brought her here. Because I knew that in this grove … her child would be safe. It wasn’t true, in the grove where she grew up. Although I couldn’t save her from the raiders.” For a moment he was silent, his eyes full of shadows. “But now …” He nodded at the still-watchful dragonlet on her shoulder. “A sea-dragon has found you, Tahlia.”

  “It didn’t find her. We found a nest. Of eggs.” Kir bounced to his feet. “So it … she … can drive away the Kark?”

  “She says that she doesn’t remember how, but she will.” Tahlia stroked the dragonlet’s satiny scales, felt the creature’s probing query. You’re a sea-dragon, she thought. Felt Xin’s Yes, so? shrug. “The ketrels came and killed the rest. She was the only one that survived. She bit me.” Tahlia held out her hand. “But it healed when she licked it.”

  I had to know if I knew you. The dragon’s thought felt testy. How else could I know except to taste your blood?

  “How could you know me?” Tahlia looked down at her, surprised. “You just hatched!”

  I know you. The words felt very positive.

  “Ketrels?” Slane was looking grave. “Ketrels found the nest?”

  “They came out of nowhere.” Kir hunched his shoulders. “I thought they’d come after us for sure.”

  Tahlia shivered as the dragon gave a low, piercing cry of grief. “They killed all the others.”

  “Did they see you?” The healer leaned forward. “Did they attack you?”

  She shook her head. “We got out of there fast.”

  “The ketrels are allied with the Kark. They must search for sea-dragon nests, destroy them before one can find a bond-mate. Maybe that’s why we never find a nest.” His face brightened. “I thought that the sea-dragons might be gone from this world entirely, but perhaps they come back here to lay their eggs occasionally. This can’t be the only nest.”

  Tahlia blinked. “Xin says they’re not gone, they’re just …” She frowned. “I don’t think I really understand what she means. Right here but not here?”

  “The grove people were strong when the sea-dragons partnered with us.” Slane’s eyes took on a faraway look. “We and the Kark were equals. Their magic could defeat us, but not the sea-dragons, and sea-dragons protected the groves from the slave-raiders. But then the Kark discovered that they could drive away the sea-dragons by killing off the bloodlines that could bond with them.”

  “Tahlia can’t be the only one.” Kir bounced to his feet. “There have to be others.”

  “Oh, there are others. A few.” A slow smile grew on the healer’s face. “I was going to take you to meet some of them, Tahlia. They are scattered, living in groves where they’re tolerated. We healers keep track of them. We have been … hoping that the sea-dragons might one day return.”

  “And they have.” Tahlia stroked the dragonlet’s filmy vestigial wings. “If that’s what you really are.”

  I am what I am. Xin ruffled her wings, and another gust of wind swirled more scrolls to the floor.

  “Don’t make her mad, Tahl.” Kir eyed her nervously. “Aren’t the sea-dragons supposed to be really dangerous? I mean, they could beat the Kark, right?”

  “I think you’re safe, Kir.” The healer chuckled but shadows still lurked in his eyes. “You need to keep her hidden, Tahlia. Out of sight. If the ketrels found the nest so quickly, they must be looking hard for eggs. And that means the Kark will have spies listening for any news that might mean a sea-dragon has bonded with one of us. That’s why we healers have hidden the golden-eyed children in the small groves, away from the large city-groves. The risk of raiders is higher, but they’re harder for the Kark to find.”

  “I’ll tell anyone who sees her that she’s a surf-dragon.” Tahlia yelped as Xin nipped her ear. “You’re not a surf-dragon, but we need to make people think so, okay? Ouch.” She rubbed her ear. “That hurt!”

  “Does she know how to reach the place where the other dragons are?” Kir leaned close. “Maybe she could bring the others?”

  I don’t remember. Xin lashed her slender tail. But I will.

  Kir scowled as Tahlia relayed her response. “I don’t get it. How you can remember something you don’t know.”

  “We’ll hope, eh?” But the healer, too, looked disappointed. “Do you want me to send a note to your father, Kir? Telling him I needed your help?”

  “That would be good.” He made a face as Slane found a scrap of paper, penned a note. “Father is going to be really mad. Maybe she’ll remember how to call the other sea-dragons, eh?” In a moment, he was out the door, vanished into the grove shadows.

  “We’ll hope, eh
?” Slane’s tone was sober, but he smiled. “Kir’s a loyal friend, isn’t he?” He turned to Tahlia. “I have some fresh fish if our sea-dragon needs to eat. And some sweet-shell pastries for you. I’ll see if I can clear you a space to sleep.”

  Xin let Tahlia know with no uncertainty that yes, she needed that fish now. Lots of fish. And the sweet-shell pastries were fresh and well spiced. Tahlia hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she bit into the first one. By the time she had finished, the healer had made her a cozy bed in a corner sheltered by stacks of scrolls and bundles of dried things. She curled up with the woven moss blanket he gave her and the dragonlet tucked against her belly, licking the last crumbs from her chin, and fell instantly asleep.

  SHE stayed away from the grove as much as possible in the weeks that followed, staying out on the weed mats that this time of year tended to collect in long, ragged shoals to the leeward of the groves. Soon, they would let go of their long, anchoring roots and go drifting with the winter storms, carrying their seeds and resident creatures to other parts of the world ocean. But for now, they made a nice dry place to sleep. Kir brought her a small oil stove that his family used sometimes in the cold season and she often cooked sweet and succulent bottom-crabs for them. Xin—now much larger than a surf-dragon and growing rapidly—dove for the crabs happily, now that she knew that Tahlia liked them. A rare delicacy, Kir traded the extra at the market for her, and the healer came out often to visit and, she guessed, keep an eye on her. He hadn’t mentioned her going with him, but they both knew it had to happen.

  She didn’t tell Kir, couldn’t find the words.

  Mostly, she swam with Xin, whose speed and skill in the water made the fish look slow and ponderous, and visited with Kir whenever he could sneak away.

  “What are you going to do when the season changes and the mats start to break up?” Kir sat on the thinning fringe of the mat, dangling a fish line in hopes of catching dinner for his mother. “Andir is still walking with a stick. His ankle didn’t heal right, and he blames you.”

  “He probably wouldn’t stay off it while it healed.” Tahlia flopped onto her belly beside him, hoping to steer the subject away from season’s end. “Or does he blame my eyes?”

  “You know Andir.” Kir made a face. “Where’s Xin?”

  “Off catching her dinner. She eats like a dozen fishermen.” Tahlia laughed. “Good thing she can feed herself, or I’d be at it all day.”

  “Got one!” Kir sat up, reeling in the line hand over hand. “Feels like a really big one. Mom’s going to be happy!”

  “Kir?” Tahlia tensed as the prow of a boat nosed out from the shelter of three small, tangled clumps.

  He looked up, let go of the line. “That’s Jirath’s boat. You know. Andir’s cousin. Get out of here.” He bolted to his feet, fists clenched. “I’ll pretend you’re hiding somewhere here. You’ll have time to get away while they look for you.”

  “They’d just beat you to a pulp.” Tahlia watched three outriggers slide into view, each carrying two paddlers. “And they’ve seen us.” She felt strangely light and calm as the boats bumped against the mat and the six youths scrambled out.

  Andir and his cousins, plus three hangers-on. They stayed back as he limped forward, spreading out in a loose half circle to block Tahlia and Kir from the boats. Andir was smiling, but his eyes held a cold ugliness that made her skin tighten.

  “You ruined my leg, you witch.” He stopped about two arm’s lengths away, still smiling, his tone light, almost friendly. “The healer says the bone set crooked, and I’ll always limp. Your bad-luck eyes did it, made it not heal.”

  “Walking on it too soon kept it from healing.” Tahlia made her voice even. “You should have listened to the healer.”

  “Everybody knows he’s your friend. Your bad luck infected him.”

  “You’re just not smart enough to listen to good advice.”

  His fist caught her by surprise, spun her backward. She fell onto the matted weed, skinning her palms on the rough, salt-stiffened stems. He grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet as Kir yelled. He had started for them, but Andir’s cousins held him, arms twisted behind his back.

  “You need a lesson, witch.” Grinning, Andir raised his fist.

  Tahlia cringed away, watched his smile grow creamy with satisfaction as he enjoyed her seeming submission. She shifted her weight and kicked straight out.

  Her heel caught him below his belt and he let go, doubling over with a cry.

  “Run,” Kir yelled. “Get away …” His shout was cut off as one of Andir’s pack punched him hard in the stomach.

  Tahlia grabbed up a short piece of thick weed stem and spun, catching the cousin holding Kir square across the side of the face. The hollow stem snapped, but he let go with a howl, grabbing his welted face. The other cousin let go of Kir and lunged at her.

  “Come on.” Tahlia hauled Kir to his feet.

  Too late. Hands grabbed her from behind as two others tackled Kir. She went down fighting, clawing. Something hit her hard in the back of her head, and for a moment the world blurred and darkened. When she could focus her eyes, she was on her back, held down by three of Andir’s gang. She could hear Kir gasping somewhere out of sight.

  Andir stood over her, and the look on his face chilled her. Slowly, he reached down and pulled her fish knife from her belt. “You and your bad-luck eyes. You just don’t know when you’re not wanted, do you?” He reached down and grabbed the neck of her tunic. The fabric ripped, and he laughed, a short, ugly sound.

  “Andir, are you crazy?” Kir sounded panicked. “What are you doing?”

  “We were out here fishing and saw you drown your stupid little friend here.” Slowly, Andir drew the knife blade across her chest, from her shoulder to her breastbone.

  The blade felt cool, followed immediately by hot, burning pain. Tahlia felt hot wetness trickling down her ribs as he straightened, his lips curving into a smile beneath his terrifying eyes.

  “When we tried to help him, stop you, you attacked us. Self-defense. We had to kill you, you were crazy.”

  “Andir, stop it.” Kir’s voice had dropped to a whisper. “What are you thinking?”

  “We’ll be rid of you.” Andir laughed, his eyes on her face. “You never should have messed with me. Want to beg now? Or you can let your spineless little buddy do it for you.”

  “Andir, you’re crazy.” Kir started to struggle. “Someone is going to tell. Someone is going to see you.”

  He gave Kir a contemptuous look. “Tie his arms and legs. Dorn, you get that anchor rock we brought. They’ll never find him on the bottom.”

  “Andir?” The one he’d addressed sounded uncertain. “What’s that? It looks like a big surf-dragon.”

  “Who cares? I like to spear surf-dragons.” Andir turned back to Tahlia, shifted his grip on the knife.

  She tensed.

  One of the youths yelled in terror, and, suddenly, the hands holding her down were gone. She scrambled to her feet as Andir lunged at her. The blade gashed her arm, leaving hot pain in its wake. She scrambled back as he lunged at her again, but his bad ankle turned and he fell with a scream of rage. Kir leaped in, grabbing his wrist, twisting it as he struggled for the knife, leaping back in triumph, the blade gleaming in his bloody hand. Then his triumph vanished. “Tahlia …” He pointed.

  Xin rose from the water a few lengths from the edge of the mat, her eyes flashing crimson light. Her vestigial swimming wings made a silver blur in the air, growing larger by the second. Water, whipped to froth, boiled up around her, and sudden wind gusted, knocking the two youths who had held Kir to their knees. The boats tore free of their tethers as a waterspout began to grow around the dragon. In a matter of moments, the whirling column towered over the mat, its roar deafening, the cold, wet blast of the wind bringing Tahlia and Kir to their knees as they clung to the weed to keep from being sucked into the whirling funnel.

  At the top of the spinning tower, the dragon’s red e
yes gleamed balefully.

  One of the boats spun overhead to bounce across the weed mat, and Tahlia flattened herself, pulling Kir down beside her. The two cousins screamed as they were pulled into the spinning tower of water. The one named Dorn tried to burrow into the weed mat.

  Andir stood straight, his eyes crazy, lips pulled back from his teeth. “You did this, bad-luck eyes!” His hoarse scream cut through the howling of the waterspout. “This is your doing!”

  The silvery tower of water leaned across the weed mat, and, in a second, Andir was gone. The waterspout moved away from the mat, churning the water into white froth, spinning toward the horizon. It left a deafening silence in its wake.

  For a moment, nobody moved. Then Dorn scrambled from his shelter in the weeds, stumbled to the edge of the weed mat, and dove off. A moment later, his head broke the surface, heading back toward the grove. The other two youths followed.

  “They’ll drown.” Tahlia stood up, shakily, looked around. “Our boats are gone, too.”

  “The waterspout tore all kinds of junk off the mat.” Kir shaded his eyes. “They’ve got floating stuff to hang on to, all of ’em. They’ll make it okay.” He turned a pale face to Tahlia. “Was that your … what was that?”

  “I guess that’s … what sea-dragons do.” Tahlia looked toward the horizon. The water spout had vanished. She shivered. “He cut you bad.” She took his hand.

  “I can still use it.” He flexed his fingers, winced, then pressed his fingers against the gash across his palm. “And you’re bleeding, too. We’re going to have to swim back. Before the others tell their version to everybody.” He looked grim. “Are you okay to do that?” He frowned. “You’re shaking, Tahlia.”

  “Yeah.” She flexed her fingers, drew a shuddering breath. “I am.”