The Dragon's Egg

by Pauline M. Ross

  When he tried to impart some minor distillation of his delight to Garrett, the man had snorted and rolled his eyes in barbarous disdain. “Just your luck if the place burns to the ground before you get there,” he’d said, with malicious glee. For all he wanted to be friends now, he still sniped at Zarin whenever he had the opportunity.

  That was Garrett’s ignorance, of course, for the Academia had been built with great care for the risk of fire. It was hardly likely to burn to the ground. But the man knew nothing and cared less, beyond his sword, his women and his gambling. He had no sword here, and gambling was a strictly regulated pastime in the city, but he could never stay away from the women. Garrett had turned his charm on all four of the Tre’annatha ladies, but fortunately they could see through him. They were definitely warmer than they had been, but Zarin had detected nothing stronger than friendship in any of them.

  While they waited for the Drakk’alonan authorities to sign and stamp and seal all the documents they needed to travel, the Tre’annatha conducted tests on Garrett and Dru. Zarin had been disbelieving of Garrett’s ability, but once he saw it in action he could no longer doubt it. Even when Hanni went into another room and pointed to a word in a book, or an object, Garrett knew it exactly.

  Such a simple thing, to be able to see the world through another’s eyes momentarily, and yet how useful. He could think of a number of occasions when it would have been useful – examinations, for example, when he was required to recite a passage word for word. If he could just have seen through the professor’s eyes to the page of the book he was holding—

  But no. That would have been cheating, and Zarin would never have deigned to cheat. That would have made him no better than Garrett, who had indeed used his talent to cheat.

  Dru’s tests were more unsettling. The testing room was like a white-painted box, a cube, with a single white table and a few chairs, also white. Dru was allowed to decide who she wanted with her, and of course she asked straight away for Garrett. Zarin had to ask her if he could be there too. Dru sat on one side of the table, and two of the Tre’annatha sat on the other side. Garrett and Zarin had to sit against the wall, out of the way, and behind Dru, in case they tried to influence her.

  Hanni placed objects on the table. A lit candle. A glass jar full of water. A metal bar. A brick. A wooden block. A sealed glass jar, empty. Then she and her fellow tester simply waited.

  After a while, Garrett said, “Whatever you want her to try to do, you will have to tell her. She does nothing without an order. Or you can ask her a question.”

  “Interesting,” Hanni said. “Very well. Dru, do you feel an affinity for any of these objects? Are you drawn to any of them?”

  “No.”

  “Hmm. I should like you to try to manipulate each one in turn. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  Still she did nothing.

  “You have to be more precise.” Garrett again. “Tell her exactly which one, and what you want her to try.”

  Hanni’s eyes widened. “Very well. Dru, I should like you to start with the candle. Can you make the flame larger or smaller?”

  She could, but not by much, even with the aid of the glass ball. The metal bar she had no trouble with; she could shape it at will. The rest were beyond her ability.

  Hanni ‘s face showed her disappointment. Having heard the story of Dru’s confident performance in the prison, naturally she had expected to see some amazing sights.

  “I do not understand,” she said, when Marla had taken Dru back to the guest room. “I have never seen any subject with such variable control. You said that she stopped the rain falling, yet now she cannot even move a tiny amount of water. Her fire control is minimal, and that is usually the easiest ability of all.”

  “Really?” Zarin said. “How so?”

  “Because fire is the simple exchange of one form of energy for another. The innate magical energy is transformed into fire. A very straightforward process. Every other major connection requires that energy to be applied to an object, which is then transformed or moved. Children with a fire connection usually show it very early, although it is one of the hardest to control.”

  Zarin shuddered. He hated all this practical talk of magic. Hanni made it sound like the most ordinary thing in the world. “How do you know so much about it? Magic is supposed to be a very mysterious process.”

  “It has been studied intensively in the homeland for thousands of years. I was an observer in the Program for several years, so I had access to all that research material. A great deal is known. But the tragedy of the Tre’annatha is this. They want magic so badly, Zarin. They want to bring back the glorious days from before the Catastrophe when mages ruled the earth, and dragons ruled the skies, and the Tre’annatha were the lords who ruled both of them. But the dragons and mages have gone, and all we have left are these little connections, but the Tre’annatha do not even have that much magic in them. So they search ceaselessly for those who do, and especially for anyone with more than one connection. It is so rare, you cannot imagine.”

  “And here is Drusinaar,” Garrett said, “and she seems to have several powers, but not reliably.”

  “Exactly!” Hanni said. “Yet there is something about her. She is not… normal. I have never heard of anyone quite like her. So I wonder…”

  She frowned, lost in thought.

  “You wonder?” Zarin prompted gently.

  “Hmm? Oh, whether she might not be one of the lost projects. Before the mages died, they set up many, many little schemes to try to keep magic alive – true magic, mage-power, not just these connections that everyone has. The Keepers were established to preserve the knowledge of what was done. But in all the chaos of the Catastrophe, a great deal was lost, and now the Keepers have gone, too.”

  Garrett exhaled gustily. “I don’t understand any of this mage-business. I just know that Drusinaar is special. She has some kind of power in her, and she needs a Keeper to teach her everything she needs to know. That’s what she said. So we have to find her a Keeper. They’re not all gone, because there’s one at Mesanthia, isn’t there?”

  “Yes, but…” Zarin began, but then gave it up.

  “Garrett, do you understand what the Catastrophe was?” Hanni said softly.

  “Only what everyone knows. The moon fell, the mages died, the dragons disappeared.”

  “And do you know why that happened?”

  He shrugged.

  Hanni went on, “The mages combined their power. There were a thousand of them, so it was said, and they learned ways to share and amplify their power. But they became too strong and pulled everything towards them – everything. The moons, every bit of land, the floor of the ocean – everything. The only way to stop it was for the mages to die, and that was what they did, to save us all.”

  “So it was the mages’ fault? Everything that happened, all the bad things were because of the mages? They brought the moon down?”

  “Almost, yes. Fortunately, they realised in time what was happening and sacrificed themselves to save the world. It was still a dreadful time, but we survived. The world survived. But so much was lost, or forgotten, that it is very difficult to determine what they left behind, and how to restore their power.”

  Garrett stared at her, appalled. “Restore their power? If the mages were so powerful that they nearly destroyed the whole world, why would you want to bring them back? You people are crazy. The world was saved from the mages once. By all the gods, why can’t you just stop meddling!”

  ~~~~~

  The carriage rattled through the pre-dawn streets, the sound echoing off the high buildings. Even at such an early hour, there were people about – street sweepers, stall-holders setting up in the market squares, lamp-lighters on ladders tending extinguished lamps, and the ever-present groups of Enforcers. Drakk’alona was a relentlessly law-abiding city, over-regulated and oppressive.

  Hanni had been secretive about their journey to Minaar. They were
not to go by sea, that was all she would tell them, but when they pressed her for details, she merely smiled, and would not answer.

  Their carriage headed first towards the sea, but before they reached the piers and wharves, it turned to the east. Passing through an imposing archway, they left behind the walled inner city and entered less wealthy districts. The buildings they drove past dwindled in height until they were no more than two stories, made of brick instead of stone, with neat gardens front and back.

  “Not far now,” Hanni said.

  The carriage turned aside again, and shortly afterwards drew to a halt before a high building of grey stone. Several workers rushed forward to help them alight, and to carry their boxes. From one side of the building, a line of tall pillars with a road perched on top strode off to the east, high above the houses.

  Garrett burst out laughing. “Sky ships! You have sky ships here!”

  Hanni arched an eyebrow. “We call this the High Road. The wagons are called caravans.”

  “In the Karningplain, we call them sky ships,” Garrett said, still grinning. “They’re just for the important people, though. I never thought I’d get the chance to ride in one.”

  “I hope you will not be disappointed,” Hanni murmured. “This way.”

  The outer walls of the building were lined with fruit bushes like those in the Garden of the Gods. Garrett helped himself to a handful of bright yellow fruits. Dru took one fruit, but absently, for she was gazing around her, eyes dark and whirling with interest.

  Inside, more plants in tubs and a small water spout set into one wall. Two women in uniform stepped forward to greet them, and Hanni produced a sheaf of papers. That satisfied them, for they smiled and nodded, and waved the group towards a door.

  This turned out to be a lifting device very like the one at the Keep.

  “This is a Tre’annatha building?” Zarin said, as they were herded in and the door clicked shut.

  Hanni nodded. “We have many mechanisms of this type. The homeland preserves the knowledge of such techniques.”

  The lifting device carried them almost to the top of the building. More uniformed servants showed them into a waiting room half full of people who glanced up as they arrived, then turned away, uninterested. The room was lined with comfortable chairs, and amply provided with hot drinks, wine and dishes of nuts or dried fruits or sweetmeats. Dru picked up a handful of dates, and then, for some unfathomable reason, took hold of Garrett’s hand, and pushed a date into it with a shy smile. Garrett smiled back at her, and Zarin had the oddest feeling they were sharing a private joke, almost like lovers. Which was nonsense, of course.

  They waited for some time, as others were called away, and more people arrived to wait in their turn. Every so often the most tremendous rumbling shook the building. The caravans arriving, most likely.

  At last it was their turn. Hanni was composed, Garrett grinned gleefully and Dru was expressionless as usual. Zarin was unaccountably nervous. He did not think he was going to enjoy this very much. Travelling at a height above the ground was not a natural state of affairs, except for birds. He wondered if the caravans often fell off the High Road, and whether it was possible to survive such a fall. He thought not. But he did not want Garrett gloating over his fearfulness, so he tried very hard to hide his shivers of apprehension.

  They were shown into a huge room filled with clanking chains and whirling wheels. It was open to the east where the raised road stretched into the distance. And something moved along it, something like a giant caterpillar, hurtling towards them at great speed. As it approached, it began to slow down, more chains clanked and wheels revolved, and the caterpillar resolved itself into a line of wagons joined together.

  “There are no sails!” Garrett yelled, above the noise of the machinery.

  “Sails?” Hanni shouted back.

  “In the Karningplain, these things have big metal sails on top to catch the wind. But the chains are smaller.”

  “No sails here,” Hanni shouted back. “Windmills beside the road to drive the chains.”

  Garrett nodded, for all the world as if he understood what she was talking about, but Zarin could barely think for the racket all around, and the wagons bearing down on them. The caravan slowed to walking pace, and as it drew nearer servants rushed forward, opening doors to allow passengers to alight.

  The carriages swung round in a slow circle, drawing nearer and nearer to Zarin and the others. They were surrounded by servants, carrying their boxes. One took Zarin’s elbow to guide him into the carriage. And even though it was still moving, somehow he managed to get aboard without stumbling. The doors were closed, the caravan picked up speed and they burst out of the building into the morning sunshine, high above the ground. It was breathtaking.

  Zarin laughed in exhilaration, or perhaps it was relief.

  “There!” Hanni said, with her slight smile. “Enjoy the view. We shall be at Minaar before nightfall.”

  22: West Minaar (Garrett)

  The scenery sped past beneath us. Neat squares of fields, a river, wide and sprawling, sand dunes, more fields, scrubby grassland dotted with goats or sheep. Field workers in wide hats bent over, weeding or picking. Oxen-pulled wagons spewed clouds of dust on narrow lanes. In the distance, the vast, sparkling sea, empty apart from a few brightly coloured sails far away. Beneath our wheels, the chains clanked constantly but the ride was smooth, much more comfortable even than a sprung carriage on a paved road, despite the speed of travel.

  “I’d expected to be tossed about a lot more,” I said to no one in particular. “But this is very pleasant.”

  “Rubber outer wheels,” Dru said. “Guide rails. Gear interchanges to ensure a constant speed.”

  “And the windmill things to pull the chains we’re connected to,” I said, as another windmill tower flashed past, arms flailing.

  “The system is known as the Croy Mechanism,” Dru said. “It is not known when it was invented, or by whom, but the documents describing it were discovered—”

  “Yes, yes,” I said, not having much interest in such things. So long as it worked, that was all that mattered. “Do you know all these places we’re passing, Drusinaar? That river we crossed – what’s that called?”

  “At the coast, it is known as the Hindi’Lar, where it is shallow and not navigable. Most years in the spring, it floods extensively, ensuring the fertility of the soil. By the Makk’asilla peoples, it is known as…”

  I didn’t pay much attention, letting her rattle on as much as she wanted. She could go on all day like that, with only the occasional prod with a fresh question to keep the flood going. Hanni said nothing, smiling her enigmatic smile, while Zarin seemed to be sunk in gloom. He’d had the jitters when we first got on the sky ship, but now he just looked sad and vacant, as if his mind was elsewhere.

  We had a little room all to ourselves, fitted with comfortable padded seats with space below for our boxes. On the seaward side, the doors where we’d got on had windows which slid open a little way to allow air in. On the other side, a door opened to a narrow corridor which ran the length of this wagon, with more windows.

  After a while, Hanni took Drusinaar off to find a water room. Zarin barely looked up as they clambered over him to reach the door.

  “You all right, old man?” I said to him.

  “Hmm? Oh… yes, I suppose so. But… it is all so strange, do you not think?”

  “True. We’ve seen some odd things on this journey, and these contraptions are as odd as anything.”

  “No… I was not meaning this conveyance. I meant Dru… her magic. Hanni speaks of it as if it is all perfectly normal, but it is not, not in the least. I am very fond of Dru, but to imagine her as something mage-created, with all their power… If she ever learns to call upon it, to control it… Are you not afraid of her, Garrett?”

  That made me laugh. “Afraid of Drusinaar? I don’t think so. You’ve seen what she can do, Zarin, and how unreliable it is. If the mages created
her to be like them, they got it wrong. She’s broken, my friend. Whatever is in her, whatever magic she has, she can’t use it properly. It isn’t even there consistently. And she’s not just a vessel full of magic, she’s a human being, who knows us and would never harm us. No, Drusinaar isn’t any kind of threat, not to us.”

  He set his lips in a thin line. I don’t think he was convinced but he said no more.

  That day seemed endless. We passed three great cities, and a number of smaller towns, where the sky ships slowed to allow passengers on or off, but they never stopped moving altogether. Each time, faces bobbed up at the windows, shouting to us in heavy dialects, and waving parcels of food at us, or flasks of unspecified drink. Hanni usually opened the window to buy something, but it was a matter of chance what we got: sweet mixtures of grains and fruit, some kind of hard bread, smelly cheese, rice with vegetables or small balls of pastry filled with creamy stuff.

  The High Road looked to be perfectly straight, but gradually the sea was left behind, and the dunes and scrubby grass and irrigated fields gave way to larger fields of half-grown grains, separated by orchards and stands of spindly trees. The dusty tracks became wide, paved roads, with many wagons passing back and forth. Another river, wide and brown, with many bridges and vessels, and the banks choked with great warehouses and workshops, some with windmills or water wheels. Then a dwindling, and we were flying over rolling grasslands, not a tree to be seen.

  The sun was low in the sky behind us when we drew close to Minaar. At first all we could see was a silvery line on the horizon, with a dark blob in front of it. Then the silvery line became shimmering blue and grew into a vast lake, stretching as far as the eye could see. And the dark blob became a mass of towers.