by Marc Secchia
Eh? Tytiana’s fetchingly slender, unadorned burgundy dress vanished within. He wished he could tell her that the deeper shades of red made her naturally pale skin look a little washed out. Why had she begun to wear that dratted all-covering headscarf? Her hair was so striking in its natural, unbound state.
As he entered the arboretum, Tytiana said excitedly, “I thought I saw the egg move. Aye! Come! Help me shut the tiger away and then we’ll take a look.”
They quickly tempted the cub into its den area with a choice hunk of meat and slid the partition shut. Then she opened the cage door and led the way within. “Let’s go – oh, my dress is stuck. Go ahead. I’ll get myself untangled.” She waved toward the small hollow where the tiger cub had allegedly laid its egg. “Don’t touch it, though. Remember?”
“I remember.”
Jakani stepped across the cage, hearing the tiger growling behind him as he approached the egg. Thank the heavens it was shut away. He knelt to take a closer look. “Well, I don’t think it’s –”
Clink.
The metallic sound fell upon ears more than alert to its meaning. “Uh … what are you doing? O Choice –”
“Answers, Dirt Picker. I want answers, and they had better be the truth this time.”
She had locked him inside the cage! Locked! With a feeling that his heart had just swelled to ten times its size and was desperate to quarry its way out of his chest, Jakani swivelled on his heel, taking in his situation. Very poor indeed, his instincts told him. His skin crawled as though a thousand fire ants had crept beneath his clothing all at once and were planning a simultaneous attack.
“I thought – I hoped we had discussed this?” Despite his best efforts, his voice cracked with fear as he saw her moving toward the slide that controlled the door to the cub’s den.
Tytiana smiled the smile of a Dragoness. “Indeed.”
“Let me out!”
“No.”
“Let me out, uh, please? I’ll give you any answers you want. Please. Just – don’t! Tytiana!”
She lifted her hand teasingly from the welded metal handle that allowed a person to slide open that all-important wooden door between the den and the main cage.
“Address me by my title, Dirt Picker.”
“Now’s hardly the time …” He shook his head. “I sincerely hope you mean, ‘o Choice Tytiana’ and not ‘o Torturer most Infernal.’ ”
“Mmm, I like that second one.” Seen through the mesh, her smile was radiant. Jakani decided that only made him more nervous. “I do have a reputation, you know. It’s well-earned.”
Whatever was this young woman doing? She must be insane!
She fingered the metal handle again. “So, first-silk, I’d like to know your name before I start torturing you properly.”
“What have I done to deserve this?”
His armpits were growing damp and nasty. Maybe the stink of terror sweat would keep the tiger cub from shredding him immediately? Could he pinch her cane and fit it through the mesh? There was nothing he could use as a weapon in the cage, save the egg.
Aye, cracking an egg across a tiger’s snout was bound to help.
“Name?”
Toss taboo in the Cloudlands. “Jakani.”
“Alright, Dirt Picker Jakani.” Her hand dropped from the all-important handle. “Tell me, what did you do to me?”
“What did I – huh? Nothing?”
“Nothing?”
“Literally, nothing. Nil. I water your plants. This is my punishment, remember?”
Tytiana’s expression had never been colder. “Jakani. I suggest you be less economical with the truth and more forthcoming. Fast.” She played with the handle, cracking the hatch open an inch. A few talons began to explore the crack. He had never quite appreciated how excruciatingly sharp talons were before, nor how much he valued his soft skin. “So, riddle me this. How and when did you plant the egg, and what did you do to me to change my powers?”
“I’m – honestly, I’m confused. Please. Shut that door! I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re getting at.”
She leaned against the handle, her slim body pressed against the mesh as she addressed him in slow, measured, ‘you’re an idiot so listen carefully’ tones. “Lamko. Ever since I met you, I’ve been going crazy. You’ve stirred things inside of me I didn’t know existed. The fire – remember the fire?” The hand clawed against the mesh ignited with that eerily fascinating crimson glow. It was stronger this time. Blazing. “I could never do this before I met you. Before we touched. Maybe there’s a reason we never touch lamko scum like you. Now the fire’s coming more and more often, hotter and hotter, and I can’t control it anymore and I’m plain … I’m plain scared. What the hells have you done to me?”
“Me? You – girl, I could ask you exactly the same question!”
They stared at each other, black eyes to violet, and all between them was a violence of conflicting passions, misunderstanding and fear.
“What do you mean?”
“Ever since you touched me with your accursed fire, I’m the one who’s been changing! It started with you! I am becoming stronger and faster than any person has a right to be. This isn’t some kind of game, Tytiana. This is my life and I have a right to live it without your interference – however misguided or unreasonable you might be!”
He shook the cage in his fury; the Askarmyn Tiger cub responded by snarling and attacking the barrier with its claws. The wood began to splinter.
“Don’t you try to turn this on me, you lying lamko! This is all your doing –”
“Jakani! My name is Jakani! Now let me out of this freaking cage, you freak! Are you out of your fruit-picking little mind?”
“First, tell me what you did.”
“What you did! This is all your fault.”
“All it takes is me opening this door, you lamebrain dirtbag! End of –”
“My mother’s the one who’s lame, so don’t you – freaks’ sakes! Don’t you dare! You don’t even know what you’re talking about. Well, you have your leg, but – curse it, this has gone far enough. Let me go! I never want to see you again!”
“I’ll have the truth –”
“Tytiana, please!”
His hand smacked against the mesh guarding her face. She jerked backward reflexively, and at that instant, the cub found the gap with its talons and ripped a large chunk of wood away. Before he could reach across or Tytiana could jam the door with her outstretched foot, the tiger cub shouldered its way through the gap and stood there, coiling, bristling with fury at the intruder in its territory.
Blackness eclipsed Jakani’s vision. Without knowing what he intended, he reached out and managed to seize the huge cub by the neck ruff, while in a voice not his own, he roared, “Down! Don’t even think about it!”
The cub sank to its belly at once. Submissively. Mewling as it crawled toward his feet.
“That’s better.”
Then, he just stood in place and shook. He dared not glance at the Choice, not when she stumbled around the cage, nor even when he heard the key rattle in the lock. She was frightened, so aghast at what she had done – just like him – but he knew that if he tried to respond, his anger would win out and he would say or do something he would regret forever.
And now she was beside him. Placing her hand over his upon the cat’s neck, she said, “All I’ve learned is that I am hateful inside – that this fire makes me do things and act in ways – I have no reason left. I really am scared, Jakani.”
Once more, something sparked between them at her touch. It was slight, but he was waiting for it and he knew the sensation was unnatural. Or was it natural, somehow a product of magic that moved them in different ways? Fire always consumed. Had he not learned that for himself over the years? This was merely an intensification, a rising to his full awareness, of what had always been present.
Admit it, Jakani. The truth was more complex than he had imagined.
“It’s in both of us,” he said so
ftly. “Something – put us together, and we’re like tinder and flame. See? We’ve both been oblivious. We do this to each other. Obviously.”
“Good, then, that I’m going away tonight.”
“You’re … what?”
Tytiana rose, lifting her hand from his. “Please don’t hate me, Dirt – Jakani of House Sakazi. I need you … to take care of things here. While I’m away.”
He could not process her words. She knew his family name. Going? When all between them was fire, and they had just discovered this exquisite connection, she was leaving? For how long? Where was she bound? Was her father trying to hide her from these marauding Dragons? How could she leave him burning like this?
“You –”
Impulsively, she tore away her headscarf. “I’m going in disguise. Look. What do you think of my hair?”
He recoiled. “Mercy! It’s … horrible!”
* * * *
She thought Jakani might cry. Until now he had been bravery personified, even forcing the tiger cub to submit with a mighty roar, but as he stared at her hair, she knew he felt as she did, as if a canyon had opened beneath their feet. Sometimes, truth freed. Sometimes it cut like a knife, piercing the very pith of a person. He hated the colour, as did she. This Dirt Picker of the gleaming-as-gold eyes was not some pawn in some internecine play of House politics, nor an assassin in disguise. He was just a very confused and confusing young man and this connexion between them was visceral, undeniable and above all, true. They were toxic for each other – weren’t they?
Shakily, Tytiana said, “You don’t like it? Not even a little?”
“Like this, you are no longer the Radiant. With respect. And that doesn’t mean you aren’t still as beautiful as the dawn. I mean –” he pulled up with a curt laugh, and she wished his words would endure until the day the suns stopped warming their Island-World. “I mean, speaking to the Choice of a House like this should rightly give the High Master ample excuse to have my tongue yanked out by the roots. Uh, it was a hypothetical, um, metaphorical … thingy. Whatever. Statement.”
His eyes! Oh, it was just wrong that his eyes should capture her so completely, and now she felt like a silly girl tizzy on her first glass of wine, and he was gripping her fingers, asking if she was alright.
“Oh, took a funny turn,” she gasped, fanning her face.
“No more fainting, Choice Tytiana. Sit here.” She dropped onto the stool as if her knees had come unhinged. So hot! Helpless at the raging of emotions or fires within her; she could not separate the two anymore. “Sit. Stay there! I’ll fetch you a goblet of water.”
“Woof.”
Laughing over his shoulder, Jakani walked slap into her workbench. “Oof! Sorry. Whaa … nice catch.” He righted a beaker and steadied her distilling equipment. “I – um, water. Right away.”
She must find distance from this perilous fire they shared. Better that she left today.
After she had sipped her water, Tytiana drew a scroll out of her pouch and handed it to him. “I took the liberty of preparing minimal instructions. Although they are pictorial, I don’t believe you should have any challenge with the written content – should you?”
He fumbled the scroll.
“Aye, Dirt Picker. Let’s just say I know at least one of your secrets, shall we?”
An eyebrow quirked over a depthless iris. Stars above, could he not stop looking at her – she could not think! “Five hundred and seventeen instructions?”
“I ran out of space on this first scrolleaf. Shall we start at the top?”
He shook his head slowly. “Only you. Only you.”
* * * *
Jakani worked with the Choice all that day, running through her lists of instructions until he knew everything by heart – by frozen heart, he wanted to clarify. What of this fire could possibly remain once she returned? They laughed much and bickered only a little, and that seemed more the squabbling of friends rather than a mistress’ talking down to a serf. They packed away all of the equipment he could not use or would not need, talked about the tiger’s continued treatment and then releasing her into the wild interior of Helyon, around the unstable area of hot springs, in perhaps two to three weeks’ time.
At last, having ignored the topic all day, they came to the egg.
Tytiana said, “I do hope it’s alive.”
“Wish we knew where it came from. Maybe, once I’ve released the cub, I should take it home?” Jakani suggested. “It’s always warm by the hearth. I’ve heard that’s good for Dragon eggs.”
“Good idea – for a Dirt Picker, that is.” She chuckled awkwardly. “I’m sorry I called you a lamebrain earlier. I didn’t know – your mother, is she …”
“Lame in both legs, since childhood. So is my older brother Sokadan. You’re forgiven.”
“I don’t need your – ah,” Tytiana flushed, seemingly with anger. Now the gap yawned between them again, uncomfortable and uncrossable.
He knew she would be changed once she returned, and he hated that awareness with a loathing that tingled right down into his fingers. He wanted to break something. Could he ask about her leg? Too delicate a topic for now, he judged. Lamko were conditioned not to pry, not to ask questions, just to do as they were told.
A moment later, the opportunity was gone as she exclaimed, “Would you look at the time? My sisters will be here any second to see me off.”
“I guess this is fly well?”
“For me, aye.” She studied his bare feet. “Farewell, Dirt Picker Jakani. Do try to behave yourself this time. Keep my plants alive, or I shall roast you …”
He would have fought Dragons for her, Jakani realised, with a feeling that his heart had turned to granite. What he said was, “I’ll try to keep the Dragons away from them. Be safe.”
“Gemalka. That’s where I’m going.”
He held his clenched fist over his heart. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
Chapter 7: One Year Passes
House Cyraxana Archive, 97th Year of Silks, Growing Month
Land Under-Master’s Report
Serf household losses topped out at 207 households over the past year (this figure includes completely and partially destroyed households), concentrated in the southerly and easterly regions of the estate. Cyraxana was far from the worst hit. Houses Jade, Turquoise and White reported close to 76% attrition of their serf populations. Overseers report growing resentment and rebelliousness amongst the worker castes. These have been quelled with a heavy hand as ordered. There have also been isolated reports of plague and the blood-cough. Any serfs identified with these diseases are immediately quarantined due to deleterious impact on the working population. 91% perished within a week of infection. 145 serfs died in this way over the reporting period; 12 are still in quarantine.
92 hectares of orchards were destroyed by Dragon fire. Of these, 17 hectares have been replanted and a further 41 are at various stages of clearance. The rains slowed the work as anticipated but with drier weather in the offing the overseers expect, by use of vigorous measures, to make up for lost time. The advent of the imported Merxxian Heavy Dragonwing under the command of Adazara the Teal Dragoness has had the desired effect, however, leading to an 88% overall reduction in Dragon attacks. Warmer weather will also improve serf community health and therefore boost productivity.
Underlying profit forecasts for the coming season indicate a 51% drop, net of House Cyraxana’s share of mercenary dues. The economic effects of short supply in the Island-Worlds’ markets remains indeterminate in the pre-season phase …
Chapter 8: Sparks Flying
TYTIANA SLIPPED TO her knees in the mud. She had never imagined the darkness would be so complete out here. Irrational of her to imagine that a memorised map would be of any use whatsoever in this slick, lightless mudhole. Or a cane and a prosthetic leg, with which walking over bad terrain was so much more challenging. But with her father being absent on a business trip to Sylakia, Yorbik and Archion Islands, this nigh
t was the perfect opportunity to do what she had been mulling over in her mind for the better part of the last year, ever since she had left Helyon for Gemalka.
Thank the heavens, thank the Great Dragon, thank anyone who cared that that sojourn was over. Intellectually and professionally, she had never been more stimulated. She had learned so much! Father would be more than pleased at the improvements she could implement in the coming planting and growing seasons. Personally? She had been miserable, miserable, miserable.
More miserable than this mud pit.
More miserable than a toad’s warty behind.
Far more miserable than sucking on said toad’s warty behind … aye.
Gemalkans had a dismal opinion of Helyon’s caste system, and with her being at the top of that social structure, she had found herself the target of a coordinated and relentless campaign of every kind of name-calling and profanity imaginable. Snubbed at every turn. Withering looks, bullying and many times, outright aggression. Labelled racist, elitist, classist, conceited, a slave trader, purveyor of systematised oppression, tyrant … the list went on to many more colourful epithets.
And her father had refused to have her back before her protection was assured.
A year! A whole wretched year of her life, and –
“Who goes there?”
“A girl who is lost,” Tytiana called truthfully. She was not sure, but something that looked wickedly pointed had just wafted beneath her nose.
A man’s shadow – that was all she could see in the moonless gloom – appeared beside her. “Lost? You sound a mite lonely, honourable young lady. Where are you bound?”
An elderly lamko man. He sounded querulous but not dangerous.
Affecting her best Dirt Picker accent, she said, “It’s so dark out here, and I fell and become confused. I was looking for the house of Hanzaki Sakazi. Can you help me?”
“Huh. You aren’t so lost as all that,” tut-tutted the man. “It’s a little walk, aye, to be sure, but lies just the other side of yonder hill. Huh! Mite tall for a young fenturi sprig, aren’t you? Come. I’ll take you there. It’s on my way home too. You’ve a strong young arm on you, I’d wager? That’s right, give an old man a hand.”
