by Jenni Ward
Mary leaned forward. “So what happened?”
“Nothing at first, but then the humans also saw that the land was healthy, and with the dragons in their kingdom, some humans moved south. Around that time, a younger dragon, an apprentice of Miffen’s, became bound to a human, and it had...unexpected consequences.” Quinn looked over at Mary as she watched him intently.
“Good luck?”
“Sort of,” Quinn hesitated. “A long time had passed since the dragon’s moving out of their kingdom, long enough that humans and dragons co-existed. Many dragons lived their lives in human form, while others chose to live in dragon form in the mountains beyond the Great Forest. I suppose it was only a matter of time before two would fall in love.”
“What about the sorcerers? Did they...mingle as well?”
Quinn leaned forward and shook his head, “Not as much. Most sorcerers chose to live in magical homes. So, they do have a physical access point, but basically the house exists on another, I’m not sure how to explain it, but maybe like a magical bubble hidden away from this world. Some sorcerers did spread out though, but the Sorcery Council formed and advised that they stayed put.”
“So, if the human got luck from binding to a dragon, what’s the big deal?”
“The luck runs both ways, and it’s not luck as such, not really, it’s... For example, when a pure-human, so one with no sorcerer or dragon blood, binds to a magical being – dragon or sorcerer – the magic becomes ten times more powerful.”
“But that doesn’t make sense. I mean there were so many humans...”
“It was thought that the kingdoms had always been separate, but given that many humans have traces of sorcerer or dragon blood, some both, it means that some time, way before things were recorded in books, there must have been a time when everyone lived assimilated.”
“So, this human then?”
“Had neither dragon nor sorcerer blood; that’s what made the union powerful. When Miffen realised this, he launched an attack on Illya while he felt the power favoured the dragons.”
“The Great War?”
“Yeah. Illya bound to a pure-human as well, and the war went on for a long time. In the end, both lost their partners in the war on the same day. Some say that the humans took their own lives to stop the war, but, well, I guess no one will ever know for sure. The two sides agreed to a truce but also a set of rules that both dragons and sorcerers had to abide by.”
“Including not binding to a human?”
“Yeah, it’s a blanket rule of humans in general, but the real concern is a pure-human. I mean back then pure-humans were more common.”
Mary looked at her binding mark; she hadn’t considered there might have been any rules. Being bound to a dragon had seemed the easiest way to secure the good luck long term and start a new life somewhere other than Tiani. But it seems that would not have been possible anyway.
“What are you thinking?”
Mary raised her eyes. “That it seems like power destroyed the balance more than once in the history of the kingdoms.”
“Yeah, I guess power is a tempting for some people.”
“Not you?”
The laughter took Mary by surprise. He shook his head. “No, the pursuit of power is something...something that’s impacted my life too much.”
“You just want to return to...” Mary let the sentence hang, not knowing if he preferred human or dragon form.
“Just return home.”
“Once you find your brother?”
“Who? Oh yeah, once I find him again.”
Mary’s hand gripped the book.
Quinn glanced at it. “Is that a new one for me?”
“Oh, I was going to read it...it’s about wildflowers. When it’s warm here, there are a few places where they grow just inside the Great Forest. You’re probably not interested in reading about flowers though.”
“Beauty always interests me.”
Mary glanced up at him and she felt her heart skip. A smile crept onto her face as she opened the book to a random page.
Quinn patted the bed. “Be easier to see if you sit beside me.”
Mary moved over and sat beside him on the bed, trying to focus on the illustration of a dragon rose as Quinn moved closer. She could feel the warmth along the side of her leg where their bodies met. His finger tapped on the blue rose.
“You know, I saw a red and blue one once. The centre was this vibrant type of blue, but it blended with a dark red along the edge of the petals. I never saw another one like that though, most are only one colour.”
“Sometimes, just before the snow comes, we get white ones growing near the bridge.”
“Mary?”
“Yes?” She purposely didn’t look at Quinn. Her feelings were clear to her now. She liked being around Quinn, reading with him, talking to him.
“Are you happy staying here? With the books?”
“I love my books.”
“Yeah, I know, but sometimes you need to leave things you love in order to live.”
Mary watched Quinn’s hand move away from the rose and back to her hand.
“Is there somewhere else you’d rather be? Someone else?”
Mary swallowed, feeling herself on the verge of confessing all. “This is my home, Quinn,” she whispered.
“That’s avoiding answering my question, Mary. You should be around other people closer to your own age, be around people who share your love of reading and books.”
“I...” Mary paused at a familiar sound, muffled through the doors and walls, but still she heard it. “I need to go, someone’s at the door.”
“Mary.” He still held her hand as she stood to go.
“Tomorrow, Quinn, tomorrow.”
Chapter 8
Back upstairs, Mary stoked the fire in the narrow room as she passed through it. The flames crackled beneath the wood before emerging to engulf it. Mary pulled her shawl tight over her shoulders, noting that she had felt warmer while downstairs with Quinn.
Another knock at the door demanded Mary’s attention, and she took a deep breath. Her heart still beating wildly in her chest, she stood up and smoothed the skirt of her dress down. Tucking a few loose strands of hair behind her ears, she slowly exhaled the breath she had been holding, pulling the shawl closer around her shoulders to fend off the cold air as she walked towards the passage.
She glanced at the glowing lantern that lit the way, thankful she hadn’t put it out before going to see Quinn. As she drew near the entrance, she saw Prater through the window in the door. Her heart fell and she swallowed nervously before licking her lips.
Turning the handle, Mary could feel her hand shaking. She tried to soothe her nerves by taking a deep breath so the fear wouldn’t be heard in her voice when she spoke. My hand, where is my glove? She shoved her left hand into the pocket of her apron. She opened the door, relieved that Prater had been talking to his men or he would have surely seen the mark through the glass.
“Hello, Mary,” Prater said as he pushed the door open, forcing her to take a step back as he invited himself into the book building. His men remained at the foot of the steps, waiting for their cue. Mary ignored the men and focused on Prater.
“Hello, Master Prater,” Mary replied as evenly as she could. In her pocket, her hand fidgeted with the material of her apron.
“I heard that you had returned from a trip...” His eyes glanced at her uncovered right hand with suspicion written all over his face, “...I heard your hands had been burnt.”
“Just my left hand, Master, hot water spilled – I wasn’t paying enough attention...” Mary tried to jam her hand further into her pocket as she rambled on, knowing that she was saying too much about the supposed accident, “I...I...I didn’t know you had returned.”
Prater inclined his head to one side as Mary shuffled her soft shoes across the stone floor. She hated that his gaze didn’t shift away from her face.
“I didn’t know you were paying such clos
e attention to my movements.” Prater winked at Mary and she quickly turned away. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood as she felt an involuntary blush spread across her cheeks. “I only returned a few moments ago...I need to look around. All the buildings are being searched. The dragon can’t be far as we know he hasn’t yet left the area.” Prater’s eyes finally broke the gaze on Mary’s face and began darting around the passage room like an eagle seeking its prey.
“How can you be sure?”
Prater waved at his men, and Mary watched as they walked past and entered the main book room. She heard a few thuds and looked in the direction to try and see what they were doing, but she couldn’t escape from Prater’s presence.
“Because our crops are still failing, Mary. I saw it with my own eyes as I rode back into town.”
Trapped behind the door, Mary frantically glanced around, looking for a way out of the situation. Prater still held the door ajar with his right hand, standing so close Mary could feel his breath on her face as he leaned down. With nowhere to go, Mary’s eyes fell back on Prater. His head moved to the side as his cold eyes continued to watch her.
“You don’t mind if I look around too, do you?”
“Go ahead, Master,” she replied reluctantly. If she’d owned the building maybe she might have been able to refuse but it belonged to the village.
Prater smiled as he nudged the door closed. She watched as he pushed off the wall and sauntered over to the entrance of the main room. He stood there casually looking around while Mary stared down at the floor with contempt. In her mind she imagined his face down there and her foot itched to stamp on it.
Now she had steadied herself against the wall, Mary took a deep breath. With her eyes closed, she could hear Prater’s footsteps on the stone floor in the main room. Another breath. Mary forced herself to take the few steps needed to see Prater. She watched as he walked from table to table, scowling at the piles of books that were upon them.
Excusing herself, Mary hurriedly made her way up the stairs to her bedchamber and put on the gloves, thankful for the small protection they offered. Not wanting him to think her a suspect in the dragon’s disappearance, she returned downstairs to find Prater still there, but he wasn’t searching like his men were, just standing there, watching his men do all the work.
Even though Mary knew he would not find the dragon, she was feeling cautious, nervous. Mary had always felt Prater was conceited and too sure of himself. She’d often wondered if growing up without siblings explained why he put himself above others and made others do what he wanted. She had once read a passage in a book that said sorcerers were sneaky, would bully others to do their bidding, and were obnoxious – Mary considered Prater might be one then since he held all the necessary traits. Yansa had always insisted that claims should have more than one source to be considered accurate, but detailed information about sorcerers had proven to be elusive.
She watched as the men looked under tables, behind doors, in cupboards, and watched as row after row of books were tossed from the shelves and onto the ground. Mary consigned herself to the reality that the better part of her day would be taken up by the search, and she had no way of warning Quinn who was safely tucked away in the hidden room.
Sitting down at a table, Mary moved the brown-covered book on dragons to the bottom of another pile of books in case Prater saw the engraved dragon on the cover. She picked up an innocent book on crops that she didn’t feel like reading at that moment but felt it probably could solve the issue of the failed crops. According to what she had read, plants could get sick the same as everything else; diseases could attack from the air or be drawn from the ground.
Looking up she wanted to say something. He’s never going to listen to me though.
The men and Prater moved into the narrow room, and Mary felt a small burst of relief knowing that they shouldn’t notice the lever, at least she hoped not. It seemed like a long while before she looked up and Prater was standing in the doorway, obviously having finished his search. The look on his face however remained, even when he saw that Mary had noticed his presence. She began to feel uncomfortable under his gaze.
“Have you finished searching then?” Mary asked, interrupting the silence and hoping to break his gaze as well. It didn’t work.
“We have finished the search.” Prater’s men started to return to the main room, and he nodded them towards the door.
Mary was alternating her gaze between Prater and his men, until only he stood there with her.
“At least for the moment we have.”
Mary closed the book in her hand, but he made no move to follow his men out.
“We’ve both lived in this village a long time, Mary.”
“We were both born here.”
Staring at the cover of the crop book, she heard his footsteps as he walked over to the table that she sat at. She tapped her fingers nervously on the cover of the book and tried to find something, anything, to focus her attention on.
“You should have been bound by now, Mary, like the other couple of girls in the village are.”
“There are no more unbound men in the village.” Mary regretted the words immediately.
Mary shifted in her seat; she had the feeling this conversation might be revisiting their earlier one on the walk. She rubbed the back of her hand against the pocket fabric as if the mark could be erased so easily.
“I’m still unbound, Mary.” He leaned over the desk, and she looked up to find the same look on his face as before in the passage. “I spent so long keeping control of this village, I never stopped to think about binding – not until recently really.”
Maybe there were some advantages to Michael having come to the village after all, Mary thought. She did not know how to respond to his words though and her feet shifted nervously beneath the table.
“Maybe I should now. What do you think, Mary?”
“About what, Master Prater?” Mary wanted to move the chair back and away from him. Her attention had been on the cover of the book for too long to keep staring at it. She picked up another book about bridges.
“You and me, Mary.”
She bit her lower lip hard and tasted the blood.
“Think about it, Mary.”
Her eyes swept over the desk before she looked up and their eyes met. He reached over and touched the side of her face, smiling before he straightened up and left the main room.
Then, just when she felt relief that he appeared to be leaving, he turned around. His brows were furrowed, and his gaze focused on the book in her hand while he sneered. “Why do you bother with those things? They are of no good to anyone, Mary.”
Mary put down the book in her hand and looked up at him annoyed. Books still had value in her eyes. She knew the mistake had been hers and not the book’s fault. Her hand reached back for the original book she had in her hand. “This book is about crops, Master. Maybe it has an answer in it to explain why the crops are failing...”
“It’s the dragon, Mary, the dragon that is responsible for the crops!”
Startled by the sudden outburst, Mary reminded herself that his temper was one of the reasons she would never want to bind to him. Yansa had said repeatedly that he never wanted to see Prater bound, and the older Mary grew the more she understood why Yansa felt that way. There had been times when Mary thought the dragons had granted his wish in return for trying to warn Prater about burning the books.
“Yes, Master,” her reply was weak and quiet. She wanted him to leave her alone.
“Mary, the sooner you realise that we are all better off without books, the better off you will be as well. We could simply lock the door. The books will remain here. The information they contain is worthless to us. Think about my offer.” He said nothing more to Mary as he turned and left her home.
A few moments after the footsteps had faded away, Mary rose, and once at the door, decisively closed it before sliding the lock into place. Through the clear pane, Mary watched as
Prater swaggered back over to the detention building while she turned the lock on the door to make sure no-one else would think there was an open invitation into the book building. Turning around, she yelped in surprise.
“Quinn!” Mary was annoyed he had managed to sneak up on her.
“I heard noise...and...a man raised his voice. I was concerned.”
Mary grabbed Quinn’s sleeve and pulled him further back into the corridor well away from the front door, though she doubted that anyone outside would have seen Quinn anyway. Still, Mary didn’t want to take any chances.
“It was Prater; he knows that you are still here.” Mary wanted Quinn to hear the pleading and urgency in her voice for him to leave. She wondered why she was so concerned to see Quinn safely away so quickly. This was no longer just about receiving good luck. She would have liked Quinn to stay forever, but he needed to be gone, not just so the good luck could keep flowing, but because she wanted to keep him safe.
Quinn smiled, seemingly unconcerned. “No, he believes that I haven’t left the area, but he doesn’t know I’m here. After all, didn’t they just search the place?”
“Still, I think it would be safer if you left, safer for you.” Mary grabbed Quinn’s sleeve and tugged him in the direction of the room.
“I know you’re right,” he paused and looked searchingly into Mary’s face. He placed his hand over hers on his sleeve. “Will you come with me?”
“And what would I do?” Mary replied jokingly to avoid answering the question
“Stay with me as my guest. We can continue our conversations, and you can have as many books as you like,” Quinn half-smiled as he said it. His eyes watched her a little too much, and she turned around so his gaze didn’t capture her soul completely.
“I think I’d become bored very quickly.” Mary’s hand itched, and she began to remove her glove before stopping herself. Curling her fingers tighter around the woollen material, she found herself pulling the glove on tighter than before. “Anyway, there are the books...no one else in this village will see to their care...and really it is my duty...to Yansa...and the dragons...and really, taking care of the books is not a bad thing to do. After all, there is plenty to do...or read...”
