by Jada Fisher
“The price of knowledge.”
It was her second time training with the muscled dragon rider, and Ukrah felt like she was going to fall apart. Her lessons hadn’t even been back-to-back. Apparently, Ale’a had her hands full at the academy with the initiates and could only come on the first day of the week and one of the days the students had to recoup.
But it wasn’t like all the time in between was spent just resting. The God-Woman woke her up every morning, fed her, then had her and Crispin run. And run. And run. Ukrah always finished panting and ending up feeling like her heart would explode while Crispin was usually laying on the ground and trying not to vomit about two-thirds of the way through.
Then it would be a short rest, more food, and more exercises. Sometimes the dragons would join them, forming lazy circles around to watch, Fior sticking especially close to Eist. It was always harder to concentrate then, and she couldn’t help but wonder what they were looking at. Her specifically? Or just a couple of younglings making fools of themselves?
“Ah, glad to see you survived another training session.”
Ukrah tried to crane her neck to look at what had to be Athar as he strolled in, but her body protested at the movement.
“Looks like you’ve got a couple of good whollups th-there.”
She didn’t need to glance at her arms to know which bruises he was talking about. Although it was very obvious Ale’a wasn’t trying to hurt her in any of their training, Ukrah had still taken some solid blows. Granted, half of them were from herself—either overshooting a blow or not controlling the rebound off a hit.
“Mmmhmmm.”
To think, you can lay an entire group of murderers to waste and you’re busying yourself with trying to learn to hit hard with a stick.
“Huh?” Crispin asked, turning toward where Tayir was perched in a window. “Is Mrs. Kaldonner here? I thought I heard something.”
Well, that’s certainly interesting.
Athar smiled. “How about some food. I think we still have a bit of salted pork down in the cellar.”
Ukrah nodded, that effort taking entirely too much energy all on its own. She ended up slumped against the table.
“Right. And maybe some nice tea too then a trip to the baths.”
Ukrah could feel the large man amble off and Crispin let out a low whistle, plopping into a chair across from her. “I gotta say, my friend, these people are a far cry from the nobles I’ve known all my life.”
She tilted her head just enough to look blearily at him. “How do you have so much energy?” While he wasn’t fighting with Ale’a like her, Eist didn’t let him just sit around. Ukrah had noted him going through basic drills with hand-to-hand and other strengthening things.
“Oh, that’s simple. I just don’t try like you do.” He grinned crookedly at her. “So what if they all think I’m a weakling? Doesn’t bother me. I’ve gotten this far by people underestimating me, and I don’t see how I can’t keep riding that wave.”
Ukrah frowned. “The God-Woman and Athar are taking care of us, the least you could do is give them full effort.”
“Aw, come on. When you say it like that, I sound like a jerk.” Ukrah raised an eyebrow, even if it took a precious amount of energy. “How is it, for someone not fluent in common, you sure know how to say a whole lot with just your face.”
“Talent.”
Oh sure, talent. And certainly not a guardian who you routinely ignore.
“Huh?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Are you sure? I swore you—”
“No salted pork, but I did get some jerky and preserves. I’m pretty sure Mrs. Kaldonner has some fresh loaves in the kitchen, so we should have a f-f-f—” Athar stopped a moment as he laid his findings out on the table. “A fairly decent not-quite-a-meal to hold us over.”
Ukrah wasn’t quite sure why the man stuttered. It wasn’t something she had ever heard before, but since no one else ever commented on it, she figured it wasn’t her place to either. “Thank you.”
“Of course. I remember back to my beginning days of training. Some-t-times I felt like I could just swallow up some of my fellow initiates whole, I was so hungry!”
Looking him over, it was believable that he could do just that. Sure, maybe the massive man was smaller back when he was a young lad, but Ukrah was certain he had probably always towered over his peers.
“Thanks for not eating us then.”
“You’d make a horrible meal,” the God-Woman said, coming in surprisingly quietly, considering her stocky nature, and placing a loaf of bread on the table. “Come on now, eat quickly. We want to get out of here before Mrs. Kaldonner gets back for evening meal or she’ll use this as an excuse to feed us less.”
“Oh, the horror,” Athar teased, crossing to his wife and pressing a kiss to her cheek. It was sweet how she stood on the tip of her toes without even seeming to think about it and how he bent at the waist, like their affection was so second nature to them it was muscle memory. Ukrah wondered what it was like to have that sort of connection with anyone. She had no siblings of which to speak, her mother was dead, her father long before that, and she was far too young for romance. Even before she had been singled out that fateful night in the desert, she had often felt a little…removed.
But the moment passed quickly and soon they were all sitting to eat their impromptu meal. There was casual conversation, most of which Ukrah could catch on her own, and for the most part, it was quite sweet. She felt a contented sort of peace that was becoming more and more familiar as the days passed.
“Oh, by the way, starting tomorrow, I’m going to have you start reading and writing lessons with Dille.”
What!?
6
So Much to Learn
“This is our alphabet,” Dille said, opening a book in front of Ukrah. “Each of these symbols represents a sound, or sounds. I’ve heard that the desert language uses runes like our old tongue, so this is a bit different. While your pictures represent different words and ideas that all influence each other to create meaning, all of these letters influence the sound each one makes, and that’s how we comprise our words.”
Ukrah tried to keep her eyes on the governess, she really did, but their learning environment wasn’t exactly…traditional.
Apparently, the woman so rarely had time outside of the open court for refugees and her other duties that she’d decided to have two tables set up next to her throne-like seat for her students to study. Ukrah felt decidedly self-conscious with the long line of people staring at them every time the woman paused to explain something to them.
“Cassinda, will you go over what the sounds are? Have them repeat after you and go through it ten or so times.”
The redhead nodded, and Ukrah finally understood why the quiet girl had followed along when Eist had led them to their schooling. While they all lived in the same house, Ukrah found that she barely interacted with the strange, otherworldly-looking girl.
Why do you have to learn at all when I’m here translating for you? Tayir asked grumpily from up above.
“Because maybe you won’t always be there,” Ukrah said in her own tongue, trying to pitch it to sound like she was just thinking to herself out loud.
Nonsense. You’re stuck with me.
Yeah, that much definitely seemed true.
“So this is a sound you make by sticking your tongue between your teeth and then blowing out. It’s what Athar has the most trouble with,” Cassinda said calmly, pointing to a curling shape with a couple of lines to it. She made the sound, and Ukrah recognized it instantly. “Now you try.”
They both did, and Crispin rolled his eyes. “I know how to speak the language. I don’t need you to tell me how to pronounce ‘th’.”
“Oh really? So you know what each and every one of these letters are then?”
Crispin looked to the book her long nails were resting against and his face flushed a bit. “…no.”
�
��You may speak the language, but that does not mean you understand it. There’s whole worlds and histories hidden between the pages of books, legends and secrets and powerful things. Your previous masters kept you illiterate because it made you weaker and easier to control. Believe me, this is a strength you don’t want to take lightly.”
Crispin swallowed, and Ukrah stared as Tayir translated. That was the most she had ever heard Cassinda speak, and the girl had such an intense way of speaking. All measured tones and specific beats. Almost like she was playing an instrument or something such as that. “Right. Okay.”
“Very good. Let’s continue with another difficult sound. This is the ‘ch’ sound, which is made by touching your tongue to the roof of your mouth and exhaling quickly.”
Bit by bit they went through, going over each letter until Ukrah felt like her head was too crammed with foreign sounds. But just when they finished, Cassinda poured herself a glass of water from the canteen on their table and started all over again.
They were just barely started on their fourth time through and Ukrah was sure that her mind had turned to mush when Cassinda suddenly jolted upright, her hand jerking away from the book. Before either of them could ask her if she was alright, she whipped around and screamed.
The sound shook Ukrah to her core, setting the table to rattling and her and Crispin falling out of their chairs.
Everything was chaos for a moment, and it took a few minutes for Ukrah’s vision to clear after she fell onto her back. But she did see one man dressed entirely in black fall from a window while another loosed an arrow straight at Dille.
No!
Ukrah felt something buck up within her, something screaming to protect, to stop the five men who were suddenly all firing their crossbow bolts at once, but it never even had a chance to build. One moment, Dille was sitting in her seat, her ledger in front of her, and the next, she was standing, all of the bolts hovering in the air before her and glowing a brilliant blue.
“You come into my house,” she said, her voice layered with power that stung at Ukrah’s ears. “You threaten the safety of my people, and yet you chose to use pointy sticks as your weapons?”
She waved her hand and the arrows all fell to the ground, bursting into little clouds of ash once they settled. There was a roar from outside and two distinct thumps, and Ukrah guessed Dille’s pair of red dragons had just landed on the roof.
But the men didn’t even have time to respond to that particular threat, because Dille raised both hands. Her seat rattled for a moment, foreboding and loud, before ten daggers slid out of the back of it, rising in the air before flying out at the men as they all tried to reload their crossbows. They tried to dodge, one of them jumping backward out of the window, but a loud scream, followed by a crunch and then a dragon’s shadow flying by spoke of his fate.
As for the rest of them, they all fell forward, each hitting the ground with resounding splats that made Ukrah a bit nauseous. One began to rise, having been hit only in the leg and shoulder, but a familiar redhead was beside him before he was even fully on his feet.
“Cassinda, no!” Dille shouted, reaching out.
A strange surge of blue rushed from the governess’s hand, shooting toward Cassinda, but the girl rested her hand on the man’s shoulder before it could reach her.
“This is my home!” she hissed before he suddenly began to spit up water. Dille ran toward her, whatever spell she had cast obviously not stopping the girl, but then water was coming out of the man’s eyes. Then his ears. He was choking on it, Ukrah could hear it even from where she was. “You cannot take it again.”
“Cassinda! I said, stop!”
But the girl paid no heed, her fingers biting into his shoulder more. The water soon began to turn red, and soon a coppery scent filled the air.
Blood.
“This time, it’s you who dies.”
That was the only warning any of them had before the man popped like a bladder, sending water splashing across the floor. Ukrah screamed. Crispin screamed. She was pretty sure everyone was screaming.
Except Cassinda, of course.
No, she looked pleased with herself, turning to lock gazes with the desert girl. “I know you,” she said absently, tilting her head with partial recognition.
Ukrah was horrified, but she couldn’t deny the familiarity bubbling up within her as well. It was something that had been happening far too often lately, and yet she still had no answer for it.
Cassinda reached out, as if she was trying to shake Ukrah’s hand. “Will you help me kill them?”
“Kill who?”
“All the ones who hurt us.”
Ukrah found herself taking a step forward without intending to, her own hand coming up. She didn’t get much farther, however, because Dille had reached Cassinda and placed both of her hands over the young girl’s eyes.
“Sleep.”
The girl dropped instantly, her eyes shut, and the thrall over Ukrah faded. But even as it left her, she found herself staring into the apprehensive gaze of Dille.
…that probably didn’t help the governess’s opinion of her at all.
No one spoke of the assassination attempt. In fact, everything about it seemed to be old hat except for the whole Cassinda thing. And although Ukrah did try to ask about the girl initially, she was brushed off so many times that she just gave up.
Clearly, the girl had something inside of her. Just like Ukrah did. And it was also abundantly clear that that was the reason why she was staying with Eist and Athar, just like Ukrah.
If Tayir had anything to say about it, he didn’t. In fact, he said less and less to her as the days went on, and she realized she was using his translation less and less. She had a feeling it wasn’t natural to be able to become so fluent in a language in just two months, but the words came to her more and more easily.
In fact, everything was growing easier. The training with Ale’a hurt her less. The lessons with Dille made more and more sense. She was even growing somewhat used to the dragons that would often come out and inspect her if she was outside.
But never inside. The only dragon that ever came in was Fior, and he could only fit in the main hallway and sitting room, and on the very third floor upstairs. All the other dragons were too big or uninterested, it seemed.
Her days began to settle into a sort of rhythm, and bit by bit, the terrible things that had driven her to the God-Woman and her home began to fade into the back of her mind. They were still there, still leaking into her nightmares, but it wasn’t the ever-present horror that haunted every waking thought.
It helped that Crispin was always there with her. Although he wasn’t nearly as lost as she was, there were still plenty of things he didn’t understand or was surprised by, and that made her feel less like an idiot. He also had a way of joking about everything, which sometimes made her laugh, but sometimes distracted her just enough to stop her chain of worry.
Her confidence started to come back to her, bit by bit. She was becoming stronger. Smarter. …but she didn’t really have that many more answers. She didn’t know why or how she had done what she had done that night in the desert or again to the guards. She didn’t know why dragons responded so strangely to her and why the white dragon herself had reacted in such an unusual way. Perhaps what was more frustrating was that no one seemed to care to even try to answer any of her questions either.
Either that or she didn’t know how to express them properly, and Tayir wouldn’t help her.
So she threw herself into her studies and workouts and training as hard as she could. She didn’t really care much about being a dragon rider, but if the God-Woman wanted her to do that, then she would.
Of course, that meant she hit her bed every night and slept harder than she had in years. She didn’t dream, either, her exhaustion seeming to blank even that out. So naturally, when a soft hand shook her shoulder, she let out a low groan.
“Hush.” Some part of her mind recognized that it was
Cassinda’s voice speaking to her and that was enough to draw her back to consciousness. “Come with me.”
“Why?” Ukrah groaned, her whole body protesting as she tried to sit up.
“Because all of Lady W’allenhaus’s tribe is here, and I knew that we should listen in.”
Ukrah didn’t need to ask the girl how she knew that. If anyone understood what it was like to have sudden and strange compulsions, it was her. “Her tribe?”
“Yes. Governess Dille, Lord Ain, and of course Lady and Lord W’allenhaus. You haven’t met Lord Ain yet. He is…particular. I think his dragon is in here as well. He and Gauis are rarely parted.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Because I have been here for two years. Ever since I…” She frowned, her bright, bright green eyes looking over Ukrah as if she was making some sort of decision. “…hurt people.”
Something about her tone, the uncertainty of it, the vulnerability, made Ukrah’s heart thump. She knew that tone and exactly the kind of feeling it came from.
Ukrah couldn’t meet her eyes. “Part of my village dragged me out of my tent in the middle of the night and tried to burn me at the stake. I didn’t mean to, but I think I killed them all.”
“All the people who were hurting you?”
Ukrah swallowed. She supposed that she had never told the whole story to anyone. Or admitted to it, at least.
“No. All of them.”
“I see.” The girl took a long breath. “There was a drought in my village. I’m from Baeldred, and because of the things that happened to the mountain range during the war, all the closest streams just dried up. We were starving, and it hurt so bad. I… I remember wishing every night that I could do something about it.
“And then, one day, our farm’s pig died from the thirst. People and animals can go a long time without food, but not without water, and relief from the cities kept being intercepted by bandits. The dragon riders were supposed to come, but for some reason, they didn’t. Maybe they weren’t getting our messages. Maybe they were just spread too thin.
