Tytiana

by Marc Secchia

  As one, the Choices nodded and then remembered to bow. Jakani bowed with them, a stiff formal bow of the deepest respect.

  “And the boy who plays with tigers?”

  “Jakani, your honoured – ah, Dragoness?” he spluttered.

  “Noble Dragoness,” hissed Zihaeri.

  “Noble Dragoness,” he echoed, with another bow that seemed designed to cover the eventuality that she might have missed the ‘deepest respect’ part and would decide to flatten him like the tiger had. Doubtless the Dragoness’ weight would smear him an inch thick across the rocks, mind. A bit of red salt to puzzle scholars later. Tytiana almost let a treacherous chuckle slip from her lips.

  Was she truly this bloodthirsty?

  Adazara’s eyes were like globes filled with swirling, gleaming flame. Utterly mesmerising. Her scales must have been recently buffed, for they reflected the suns-light in brilliant, prismatic rainbows of light. Tytiana was no less unsettled when the Dragoness, with several sinuous steps that she realised were calculated to impress upon the little Humans the overpowering majesty of her presence, stepped past the bathing area before gracefully lowering herself to the ground. This was easier, she supposed, than having them hurt their necks gazing up at her. Even with her muzzle resting upon the ground, Adazara still had to cock her head to look down at the Humans, and they saw that she was nursing a fresh wound upon her right hind paw. Golden blood oozed from a bone-deep cut. Golden!

  Servants now brought wooden chairs for the four Choices, while Jakani stood behind and to Tytiana’s right hand as they made ready to speak with the Dragoness.

  She self-consciously tucked her stump behind her good leg.

  Dragons had once dominated the Island-World. Here at the hot springs, it was easy to see why – but also, Tytiana knew that the Dragonkind had diminished in numbers and power over the last centuries, apparently due to a culling organised by the last Emperor of Sylakia. She realised now that she did not understand enough of the histories to even begin to relate to this creature.

  Zihaeri and Adazara exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes as the others looked on, before the Choice carefully broached the matter of the recent raids. At once the Dragoness’ eyes narrowed and an audible rumbling grew in her belly. With a puff of sulphurous white smoke from her nostrils, she snarled:

  “Poor intelligence. We received draconic word of an incipient raid being staged at an abandoned roost offshore of the Fingers of Ferial, o Choice, and decided to strike pre-emptively. However, we found the location deserted. Returning with all the speed of our wings, we discovered smoke already rising from the orchards, and two of our own slain by means most treacherous – apparently, by other Dragons. Then, your father accused us of foul-fires!”

  Zihaeri bowed low from her seat, her hands clasped before her. “I cannot make restitution enough for this offence, noble Dragoness.”

  “No, you cannot!”

  Dragon thunder cracked across the hot springs, sending thousands of water birds into a honking, clattering, cackling panic. Again, Adazara roared:

  “May the blood of our dead curse this treachery for eternity!”

  Sariaki’s lower lip began to quiver. Tytiana gathered her sister into her arms, and gave the Dragoness a look that conveyed a few succinct thoughts of her own. Adazara blinked. Blinked again. Then, the air seemed to draw down around them, and when she spoke a third time, there was a dullness to the ambient sound which Tytiana realised must be due to some kind of magical shield or dampening.

  The Teal Dragoness purred, “But oh, this is a matter far more fascinating than the labours of House daughters to suck truth out of this mire of Helyon politics. Peace, little Sariaki. I meant no harm, but that I grieve the loss of a shell sibling.” And her paw reached across the space between them to chuck the little girl most gently beneath the chin. “Strength to thee. Shall I not safeguard thy life as I would mine own hatchling? Choice Tytiana. Will you ask the question that burns most patently upon your heart?”

  “What do you make of the fires within me, o Dragoness?”

  Tytiana felt she may have been overly bold, and Jakani sucked in an audible breath, but Adazara seemed unfazed. She said, “It is said in Dragon lore that in the days of Hualiama Dragonfriend, a new and holy fire did emerge from the fire-soul of the great creator-Dragon, Fra’anior the Onyx, all honour and glory be to his name! This was a living fire like the truest of Dragon fires which did indwell the souls of Humankind and Dragons, and gave rise to the so-called Third Race, those creatures called Shapeshifters who demonstrated the ability to shift between draconic and Human forms with equal facility. Shapeshifters are two aspects or manifestations of one core soul. And the greatest among them are the Dragonfriend, and Aranya the Star Dragoness.”

  “This rising of a third race greatly confused and enraged many Dragons, who felt that the purity of their kind would be diminished or adulterated by these new creatures of flame. History both old and new teaches that great opposition rose up against the Shapeshifters, originating both from the Dragonkind and from Humankind, and this clash became the flashpoint of an enduring, sweeping philosophical and fire-religious debate between the followers of the two greatest Ancient Dragons: Fra’anior the Almighty Onyx, and his foul shell-brother, Dramagon the Red.”

  Holy Fra’anior! Tytiana gasped inwardly. Never had she heard this legend recounted with such clarity. Clearly, Shapeshifters were real.

  The Dragoness leaned forward with a disconcerting, many-fanged smile, and said, “That I name you Tytiana the Red in no way allies you with one party or the other – though I hope for your sake, your allegiance is to Fra’anior?”

  Calm. Be calm. When at the teasing presence of this powerful Dragoness’ fires, all within her felt like a volcano primed to explode … Tytiana said, “I apologise, noble Dragoness, but I have no idea what I am, and little knowledge of these deep matters of Dragon lore. Yet I would assert that my fires incline to the ways of Fra’anior, and the deeds of the Star Dragoness.”

  “Indeed, that is true,” Zihaeri put in.

  The Teal Dragoness seemed to loom ever more massively in their small, secluded space on the edge of the hot springs as she rumbled, “Tell me of thine fires, little one. Have you changed into a Dragoness yet?”

  “No!” Tytiana yelped.

  Beside her, Jakani guffawed as if he had enjoyed the spark of dread that had closed her throat, and he said, “No, o mighty Dragoness, but the honourable Choice certainly behaves like one. Trust me. I’ve been burned enough times to know.”

  What a time for a joke! Her surge of irritation was accompanied by crimson sheets of incandescent rage washing across her vision, but she realised belatedly that the Dragoness was laughing throatily, even leaking a little fire around her fangs as she chuckled, “Be not afeared of thy fate, little ones. As for you, Tytiana of hair like fire spun through with pure gold, what I perceive most keenly within you with the eyes of my sixth and seventh senses, are the fires of true Dragonkind, which I understand have already been expressed in the healing of those regarded as lamko –” here she pinned Jakani with one burning eye as she spoke, making him tremble visibly “– in noble deeds unconstrained by this inexplicable caste system of your people, and so I, Adazara the Teal Dragoness, declare by my verimost eternal Dragon fires, that the fires of your Dragonsoul shall rise incarnate at a time most befitting, and you shall soar upon the winds of our Island-World as a true Shapeshifter Dragoness – hail, o Tytiana!”

  Speechless. To have a Dragoness make this resonant declaration shivered the very marrow within her bones. Tytiana had never been gladder for Zihaeri’s steadying hand, and even for a little sister to cuddle close to her, fearful as Sariaki was, for a Human touch seemed all too necessary to steady her.

  Turning to Jakani, Adazara purred, “But as for you, young lamko man, I believe I have never beheld such a form of magic as infuses your flesh.”

  Jakani made a barely audible yelp of dismay.

  “I have no i
dea what you are.”

  * * * *

  From a heart filled with wonder and trepidation at Tytiana’s fate, the bottom crashed out of Jakani’s world as the import of the Dragoness’ words – nay, her accusation – filtered into his mind and brought him stamping forward in a blind rage. “What did you say?”

  “It is as I said. I have no wisdom to offer about the nature of your fires, Jakani.”

  “I have fires too ! And it’s all her fault!”

  The Dragoness said peaceably, “Indeed you do. But her fires and yours have fundamentally different characteristics. Tytiana heals with fire, correct? What are your fire-attributes?”

  “Mostly, that her fires drive me crazy whenever we’re close!”

  The Dragoness chuckled meaningfully, and her eye-fires brightened until Jakani – indeed, all four Choices of the House – knew exactly what she was thinking.

  “It’s not like that!” he yelled. “I mean, I didn’t mean – noble Dragoness – I don’t know what I meant – oh, suffering caroli! Can we just start again with a few simple things, the things that don’t frighten the living pith out of me?” Jakani snapped his mouth shut. He wanted nothing more than to leap down one of those steaming cracks and bake his stupid brains for a few hours. Maybe he’d make more sense. He threw up his hands. “Alright, I have an insufferable habit of saying the wrong things when I’m stressed! Forgive my hot words, but she … she drives me crazy. Her fires! She sparks at me – and into the very pith of my being, it seems – whenever we touch. I just have to think about titian hair and it’s there, like a – like a burning beacon, and a melody of fire that’s sweet devastation to my soul, and oh, Dragoness – I don’t understand. I can do things other men can’t.”

  Tytiana’s hot fingers clasped his hand. “Jakani, calm down.”

  “I AM CALM!”

  Shocked silence.

  “Gnarr – ARRRGGHH!”

  One of Adazara’s brow ridges peaked as she stared down at him in clear bemusement. “Well, that was interesting. I do believe that was a touch of battle thunder, little one. Any fledgling worth his fires would have been proud of that roar. Most inspiring!”

  “Can I –” Jakani stole Sariaki’s seat and sat down with a thump. “By all that’s holy, Dragoness – don’t you see? Gaah, hurt my throat. Look, may I demonstrate without causing offence? How’s about a spot of paw wrestling? I’ve heard that’s a mercenary Dragon thing.”

  “You propose to paw wrestle me?”

  Now he had insulted the Dragoness, too. Perfect. What further humiliation could he concoct to pull down upon his own head in one day? Since he could not exactly wrestle a Dragoness whose paw placed on its side stood mid-chest to him, he demonstrated lifting her paw while she increased the opposing pressure by leaning down on him with the weight of her hugely muscled upper body.

  “By my wings, you are impressively sturdy for such a scrawny beast,” Adazara allowed at last. “I estimate you can hold up several tonnes without collapsing. Still, I will say this. You most certainly have fires, but not of a nature I entirely understand. They are almost certainly draconic in character. I am also unsure as to how they arise, whether from this fire-born spark you claim links you with the Choice Tytiana, or whether they are innate. And what, by the heavens, is a dragonet’s egg doing in your pocket? Where did you steal it?”

  “Huh? I – didn’t steal … anything?”

  Jakani flushed heatedly as he realised that the Dragoness was right. His right trouser pocket bulged, and the egg had made a mysterious appearance once more. Drawing it out at her command, he showed the egg to Adazara and was about to explain further when the Dragoness growled that it was white and therefore belonged to a colony of dragonets known to reside upon Immadia Island, and he had better make plans to return it forthwith! Or else!

  Best ride this one out. He bowed. “I shall do as you command, o Dragoness.”

  “Swear it?”

  “I swear,” he added, which seemed to mollify the Teal Dragoness.

  Not that he had the power to do anything of the sort, but surely Tytiana would be able to arrange something? Then, whatever might be fire within him turned a bilious green as the Choice rose and said graciously, “Thank you for speaking with us, noble Dragoness. May I offer – may I try to heal your wound as a sign and an accord between us?”

  Right. He wrestled with impossibility. She stole the limelight effortlessly and made a Dragoness’ fire-eyes burn apricot with pleasure.

  However, as Sokadan so cleverly put it, the first sign of wisdom was when a man knew to shut his flapping trap. Jakani accordingly shut his trap and hoped that wisdom might follow. Seethe he might, and fulminate like a geyser readying itself to explode, but the truth was inescapable – Tytiana had a shining, magical future ahead of her and he once again turned out to be the useless sidekick. What was Adazara’s main point regarding him? Only that he was a nothing, an enigma, a strong deadweight!

  As Tytiana passed her hands over the Dragoness’ wound, Adazara said, “Little one, the fire-gift of healing was a great sign of the Star Dragoness’ authenticity and the authority bestowed upon her by the Great Onyx himself. Amongst Dragons, it is a once-a-millennia gift and our scholars rightly regard it as one of the very highest powers.”

  Great! Better and better! Gritting his teeth in rage, he cast about for something to hit, but found nothing. Oh, he was so happy for Tytiana, who already had everything and now possessed a rare talent too! Wasn’t she so very special!

  And he was such a resentful brat. Shut it, Jakani.

  The Choice said, “Healing was Aranya of Immadia’s gift? I didn’t know that.”

  Adazara nodded. “Thank you, little one. I feel the beneficial fires aroused by your magic most keenly. Aye, that is so. If I may advise – it seems many answers may be found at Immadia Island. Answers for you both. The flight of destiny points northward.”

  * * * *

  On the way back home late that afternoon, Tytiana fretted. That look on Jakani’s face. Defeat and humiliation, and then his ridiculous pride surged up. Pride that no lamko had a right to possess, but a quality which she had admired in him from the very first. The determined jut of his chin even now as he marched past the carriage, which had paused at the roadside since Sariaki desperately needed the bathroom, toting a ridiculously weighty sack of salts for his brother Sokadan. What could she do for him, or say, that would somehow make this right? What could she do for his family, or for any of the lamko?

  For such a brash man, he certainly carried some deep, wounding insecurities. Understandably. She had more than a few of her own. He believed the fates were set against such as him, by birth and station and caste – and perhaps, that those things were immutable. Tytiana hoped she was starting to learn to read his dratted inscrutable Eastern features. It helped when, as he put it, he became stressed and the mask slipped and then truths and fears and everything came pouring out, raw and unforgettable.

  She hugged her knees as the carriage rattled along.

  Tytiana the Radiant.

  Oh, Jakani!

  Turning to her work, she wrote up a few lists for herself – what she had accomplished at the hot springs, experiments she must conduct, arrangements she must make for the upcoming Ball, and most especially, preparations for Zihaeri’s nuptials. She helped Zihaeri recount and memorise a list of pirate alliances Adazara had explained to them. It seemed that hundreds or even thousands of ancient Dragon roosts lay around the Pla’arna and Herliss Clusters, south and east of Immadia, where piracy had flourished since time immemorial. The pirates were either Dragons of a particular roost, such as the infamous Morazi of Pla’arna, or a loose and changeable alliance called a ‘cabal’ working together for some goal, usually gold or slaves. The most enduring of these were called Talons of Darkness and, simply, Death.

  Human slavery was still endemic in the area, Adazara opined, despite repeated attempts to stamp out the practice. Some Dragons enjoyed their creature comforts and were not
averse to having help – willing or not – in the roost for those tasks at which they refused to sully their talons.

  No wonder it had proved impossible to isolate the threat to Helyon. Even the mercenary Dragons did not know those who had come against them.

  Why did Immadia not act?

  Yet she had little time thereafter to think about these problems. No time even for her own work. With father away for the traditional five-day negotiation, no doubt lubricated with great gusto by the contents of the High Master’s cellar, the work of the household fell upon her and Zihaeri, who must do all that their mother would have done. They chased the servants about from dawn to dusk making certain that the whole House was shipshape, as Dragonship crews would say, both inside and out. They spent lavishly on fabrics, foods, décor such as new paint, carpets, curtains and artworks, an upgraded harp for Quiraeli which cost an eye-watering sum, and attended to all the needs for the different departments of the House, which were never-ending. This was besides dealing with the relatives’ copious complaints, the worst and most voluble being Great-Aunt Maziara, for whom no Archion duck-down comforter was ever warm enough. Her berry-port habit cost a tidy sum, too.

  Tytiana had a sneaking suspicion that she and Zihaeri were considerably more lenient with the purse strings than father would have been, but they placed orders to restock his favourite wines, tightened up several business deals, and managed to land a trader who required a shipment of first-quality crimson silk of the fifteenth thickness for the Sylakian winter market, at an excellent price.

  Tytiana grimaced at the connection between Cyraxana crimson and the old imperial colours of Sylakia. They did like their crimson down there. Still, father would crow over that sum.

  On the evening of the fifth day their father returned in high spirits, declared a mighty triumph and an even mightier headache, and promptly put himself to bed.

  Zihaeri swept her sisters into a laughing dance.

  The following morning, Tytiana had a nasty surprise. Jakani had not been in to work for four days. Two parakeets had died, the cats were beside themselves mewling with hunger, and her plants were all wilting in the arboretum’s heat. She could only shake her head. He had to be on his deathbed, or recently deceased, to behave like this. Jakani was as meticulous as her in some ways. Promptness, efficiency and loyalty seemed to be very high on his list of values.