“I want you to go back to your family and--”
“My family is dead!” she shrieked.
The sharp tone and sharper glare were enough to give even the dragon pause for a moment. Tears of anger and sadness trickled slowly down her cheeks.
“Your foster parents, then, and--”
“They aren't my foster parents. They only take care of me so they can use my family's land,” she said coldly.
“You have no family?” the dragon asked.
“My brothers and sister and both of my parents died in a fire,” said Jade, sniffling and attempting to stand tall, “so if you were sparing me to be nice, don't. There's no one left to cry when I'm gone.”
“I am not going to kill you,” the dragon rumbled, “and I cannot stop the drought.”
“What do you mean you can't? You started it!”
“I have nothing to do with this drought.”
“Don't lie--you have water and we don't! Where would you get water in a drought if you couldn't stop and start it whenever you want?”
“We are in a cave, deep underground. Dig deep enough and you often find water. Deepen your wells, or dig a new one.”
“I . . . No! No, they wouldn't send me here to die if they weren't sure. They wouldn't sacrifice me unless they'd tried everything else!” Jade objected.
Even as the words left her mouth, she knew that they were false. The last of the water had only been gone for a few days before she had been thrown to the dragon. This hadn't been the last resort--it had been the first. Her eyes slowly lowered as the realization swept in.
“Your people were sure. It isn't the same as being correct.”
She did not reply.
“Go back to them.”
“I can't go back. They think I'm a witch, remember? There is no way that I could convince them you let me go. Unless . . . could you come with me? Could you tell them about letting me go, and about the drought and the wells?” she asked weakly.
“No.”
“No . . . I guess it wouldn't have worked anyway. If they won't listen to me, why would they listen to you? And I don't want to go back, even if they would take me.”
“You must.”
“Why?”
“You need someone to take care of you.”
“They threw me to you! They don't care about me. The only one who seems to care about me is . . . you.”
The dragon seemed to stiffen at the words.
“Why? Why spare me? Why help me when I fell?”
“It doesn't matter. If you will not allow the people of this village to care for you, then we will find another.”
“No!” she said, stomping her foot. “This is your fault! If you didn't show up, they wouldn't have blamed you, and then they wouldn't have tried to sacrifice me. Besides, they all knew me, and they were still willing to throw me in this cave. Strangers would be even worse. I've met a lot of people, and right now I don't like any of them. I've only met one dragon, and you've treated me much better than them.”
“No,” the beast growled.
“Why not? Why do you care?”
The silence fairly burned with the intensity of the beast's frustration.
“What is your name?”
“Jade.”
“All of it.”
“Jade Vera Rinton.”
The dragon looked her in the eye and slowly approached her. When its snout was near enough to touch her head, the creature inhaled, long and deep. When it was through, it opened its eyes again. They gleamed with certainty. Wordlessly, her bizarre host returned to his meager hoard and sat again.
“You must be made safe.”
“Why!?” the little girl cried impatiently.
“Because you are important. And because it is my purpose.”
“I'm important?”
“Yes. Stay here. You need to eat,” the dragon decided.
With that, the beast was gone. The speed at which the creature moved left Jade blinking. It was just a flurry of legs and wings, then nothing but the sound of retreating footsteps in the darkness.
Jade rubbed her stomach absentmindedly. She was hungry, though she wasn't sure how the dragon knew. Now alone, she had nothing to do but explore what little of the beast's den the light revealed. One of the bags had clearly been a merchant's wares. Inside were various bits of clothing, among them a pair of boots. They were nearly twice her size, but she put them on anyway, and tied them as best she could. Being in a dragon's den was bad enough, but being barefoot in a dragon's den seemed somehow worse. Once thus outfitted, she clomped over to the fire and tossed a few more shreds of broken chest onto it. Finally, she couldn't find anything to keep her from the room's center, where the tiny mound of gold sat.
It had not seemed like much beside the dragon, but the two heaping handfuls of coins and assorted gold trinkets was by far the most money she'd seen in one place. She was still marveling at it when the beast arrived, clutching an entire stag.
“Get away from there!” It barked.
Jade stumbled backward. The dragon nudged its kill toward her.
“Eat.”
Jade looked at the still-cooling prey.
“I can't eat a whole deer.”
“Then eat some of it.”
“Could you cut it for me?”
The dragon looked to its prize, then to the girl. With a grunt of rising annoyance, it set to work butchering the deer. It was a fairly delicate task for a dragon's claws. Jade looked away quickly and tried to ignore the gruesome sounds of her host at work.
“Do . . . do you have a name?” she asked, eyes still averted.
“Halfax,” rumbled the beast, in a slurred manner that implied its mouth was involved in its current task.
“Ha'fax.” she said.
“Hal-fax,” it repeated, stopping briefly to glare at the back of her head.
“Hal Fax,” she tried again. When no correction came, she continued. “And Hal, you are a . . . boy, right? A boy dragon?”
“Yes,” he said, the statement punctuated with a deliberate snap of bone.
“W-where did all of these chests come from?” she asked.
“I stole them.”
“Did . . . did you kill people for them?”
“No. Here.”
A piece of meat dropped onto the ground beside her, a good deal larger than she needed, and a good deal sloppier than a butcher would have provided. Another little girl might have been horrified by the sight, but Jade had grown up on a farm in very hard times. She knew how her meals were made.
“Eat,” he ordered.
“I need it cooked.”
“You don't need it cooked.”
“Uh-huh. I'll get sick if I eat raw meat.”
“You will?” the dragon asked, brow furrowed.
Jade nodded vigorously.
“I don't know how to do that.”
“I can do it!” Jade said, running to one of the mounds where she'd seen pots and pan. “Mommy lets me . . . Let me help her sometimes.”
She hauled a massive iron pot from the pile and dragged it over to the meat. Once the formidable piece of venison was inside, no amount of tugging would move the pot.
“Um, could you put this on the fire?” she asked.
The beast reached out and clutched the small cauldron. It was like a toy ball in his hand-like paw. He dropped it on the flames.
“Now we wait until the pot heats up, and then--”
She was interrupted when Halfax launched a tongue of flame at the pot. Instantly, the black iron was sizzling hot.
Jade swallowed hard.
“Now what?” he asked.
“We wait until it is done.”
“How long?”
Jade shrugged, adding, “'Til it's done.”
“And you need to do this every time you eat?”
“Yes.”
Halfax made an increasingly familiar grumble of frustration.
“Hal. Why did you--”
“Halfax.�
�
“You mean Fax isn't your family name?”
“I have no family name.”
“Oh. Well, can I call you Hal? For short?”
“Very well.”
“Why did you steal all of these chests, Hal?”
“For gold,” the creature replied, curling his tail about the mound once more.
“Why do you want gold?”
“Because I must have it.”
“Why?”
“Because I must.”
“But why must you?”
“I simply must. I do not feel at ease unless I have some.”
“Why not?”
“Why do you ask so many questions?”
“I'm curious.”
“And why is that?”
Jade shrugged.
“It is for the same reason that I seek gold. It is what we are.”
Jade seemed satisfied with this answer. The merciful silence did not last long.
“Do you think it will rain soon?” she asked.
“I do not know.”
“Do you think the villagers will figure out about the wells? Or about the water in here?”
“They tried to solve the problem of a drought by feeding a little girl to a dragon. I very much doubt they will find the proper solution on their own.”
“Do you think they'll starve or dry up before it rains?”
“I don't care.”
“Well, I do. Just because they're mean and stupid doesn't mean I want them to die.”
“You can go back to them,” he began hopefully, “and tell--”
“No!” she interrupted. “Think of something else.”
The dragon glared at Jade once again. She stared back, unflinching.
“Can anyone in your village read?”
“I think the preacher can.”
“Can you write?”
Jade shook her head.
“Find something to write on.”
A bit of digging eventually turned up a shingle of wood that bore a carving of an anvil on one side and nothing on the other. Evidently one of the stolen chests had belonged to a blacksmith. She scurried back to the dragon, who was scratching something into the cave floor.
“You know how to write?” she said, astonished.
“Yes.”
He reached into the flames and pulled a sliver of charred wood.
“Here. Copy these shapes.”
Jade carefully traced out the shapes as she saw them. Many times the beast had to correct her. While she was very good at scratching the correct letter on the plank with the charred wood, the importance of things like order and orientation eluded her. With some coaching, and quite a bit of wiping away mistakes, by the time the meat had finished cooking, she'd managed to render a mostly legible message.
When she was through, she had Halfax pull the meal from the fire. No amount of searching among the scattered goods in the cave turned up anything resembling dinnerware. Instead, the blacksmith's pile revealed a knife and a half-completed buckler, which, in a pinch, could serve as a plate. With some difficulty, she managed to hack off a piece of the inexpertly prepared meal that was small enough to chew. The roast managed to be nearly burnt on the outside and nearly raw on the inside. It was, however, edible, and there was a lot of it. For Jade, who hadn't eaten her fill in weeks, it was a banquet.
“What does it say?” she asked, gnawing at a charred chunk of venison.
“Dig deep for water or look in cave,” he replied.
“That's it? All of that writing for that?” she said, eying the crude letter doubtfully. “Well, now what?”
“I will leave it in the town.”
“But what if they come to the cave for water?”
“We will not be here. Tonight we leave.”
“Why?”
“Because once I enter the town, things will become difficult for me. And because we need to find someplace with people willing to take care of you. For now, you sleep.”
Jade ate her fill and curled up on the pile of rags, falling asleep with a full stomach for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. She slept soundly until she was awakened by an odd jingling sound. She opened her eyes to a curious sight. Halfax had his head hanging over the tiny pile of gold, his tongue deftly flicking the coins and trinkets into his mouth.
“Why are you eating your gold?” she asked with a giggle.
“I am carrying it in my mouth,” he slurred.
“Wouldn't a bag be easier?”
“I would need to carry the bag in my mouth. Take what you need, but only what you can carry. We are leaving.”
“Only what I can carry? Aren't you going to help?”
“No. I am a guardian, not a servant.”
“Okay,” Jade said sulkily.
She found a smaller pan, an oversized robe, and a pair of bags. Stuffing the buckler-turned-plate, the knife, and the pan into one bag, she walked up to Halfax. As he managed to flick the last coin into his mouth, she held the second bag open.
“Spit,” she said.
“What?” he said, the sound garbled.
“Spit the gold in the bag. I'll carry it for you.”
“Why?”
“Because you're my friend.”
After a long, measuring stare, he opened his mouth. The coins and jewelry, along with a fair amount of drool, spilled into the bag.
“Ew.” Jade grimaced.
Then she snatched up the cold remains of the roast and ate it, along with some more of the cave spring's water. As she did, she spotted a heavily-used oil lantern among the debris and lit it from the flames, singeing her fingers in the process. She cooled her hand in the bucket of water. A thought occurred to her.
“What are we going to do for water?” she asked.
“We will find it along the way.”
“Okay,” she said, dropping the dipper into her bag.
The small bag of gold and large bag of supplies strapped to her back, combined with the oversized clothes and the dangling lantern, made Jade look as though one of the mounds of random goods had decided to get up and walk away. Halfax padded slowly along the twisting passages of the cave, careful not to let the little girl fall behind. Even so, Jade had to hurry to keep up. The light of the lantern didn't cut far into the darkness of the cave, and the last thing that she wanted was to be left behind.
It was the dead of night when they left the cave. The dragon led the way to the nearest forest, and the pair walked just out of sight of the roadside away from Jade's town and toward the next. The trip took most of the night, but when they were as near to the place as Halfax dared to go, he turned to Jade.
“Go inside and find someone to take care of you,” he ordered.
“But I've never been to this town. I don't even know what it is called,” Jade objected.
“There are humans here. They will take care of you.”
“But--”
“Go!” he growled.
Jade reluctantly trudged into town while Halfax waited and watched. Until the sun rose, the little girl simply sat in the city square and waited. As day came and the people began to go about their daily lives, the square became active. Few of the people spoke to Jade. Indeed, most seemed not to notice her. Those who did spoke only briefly. The day wore on with the most significant interaction being a kindly old woman who gave Jade a sweet bun. When the sun began to set, Jade trudged back to the forest.
“What happened?”
“Nothing! People didn't pay any attention to me!”
“Did you tell them you needed a home?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Why didn't they help you?”
“People don't want another thing to worry about.” Jade shrugged, then added, “I'm tired and hungry and thirsty.”
Growling quietly, Halfax tracked down a meal and a source of water. Over the next few days, the process repeated itself. They would travel as far as they could, making their way from cover to cover in the night. When they reached a town
, Jade would enter. Invariably, she returned to Halfax at night exhausted, hungry, and ignored. Some people were friendly. Some were even concerned, offering to help her find her lost family. When told that she had none and that she needed a home, most would do little more than offer encouragement and empathy.
When they reached a third city, a young man showed a sudden and dedicated interest in her, even taking her to a tavern for a meal. Halfax was hopeful that she had finally found a caregiver . . . until she came running back to him in tears at nightfall, the bag of gold taken. By the time she awoke in the morning, the bag was by her side again.
“How did you get the gold back?” she asked as she finished a meal.
“Never mind,” Halfax grumbled. “This way. There is another village to the--”
“No!” she objected. “No, no, no, no!”
Halfax simply marched on.
“I'm not going any farther. No one is going to take a little girl by herself. We could go to any village you want. Maybe one of them will put me in an orphanage. And I don't wanna go in an orphanage.”
“You are an orphan. You belong in an orphanage.”
“I. Don't. Wanna,” she said firmly.
“They will be able to care for you.”
“And you can't? I'm not hungry and I'm not thirsty. That's better than my last home.”
“You cannot live in a field or a cave.”
“Why not?”
“Because you are a little girl.”
“Then buy a house. You have gold. Plenty of it.”
“I cannot live in a house, and I cannot be your caretaker.”
“Why not?”
“Because I am a dragon.”
“So what? Who made these rules? An' who says we need to follow them? Why do we have to do things just because you are what you are and I am what I am? You're a big scary dragon! You don't need to follow rules! And you've taken care of me better than anyone but my parents. You are my friend, Hal! I know you and I trust you. Why would you want me to be with strangers?”
“Because they--”
“No! I don't care! I'm going with you. You just pick a place and that's where we live. And if you try to leave me somewhere, I'll run away and find you, because I wanna stay with you and that's that,” she declared, stomping her foot and crossing her arms.
The Book of Deacon Anthology Page 134
