by Marc Secchia
Quiraeli burst out laughing. “No lies, Tyti?”
“No lies,” she shot back, finding a seat on the steps. “So, how do you girls like my little Dragon?”
GNARRR!!
Zihaeri said, “Maybe we can use you to keep the relatives in line, noble Jakani? Or actually, I’ve a better idea. As the closest surviving relatives, we could group our shares together and sell a controlling interest in House Cyraxana to the Kingdom of Immadia for a defined period of time. That would keep the windrocs from pecking too aggressively about these parts – and meantime give us opportunity to push through some changes. Do you think your tame Princess would be game for that?”
“Tame?” said Shalanya, strolling up the hallway toward them. “Do have a care for whom you’re insulting, Choice Zihaeri. I’m nice, but I am most certainly not tame! Anyways, I do happen to represent one of the richest Islands in the Island-World. How many Houses would you like me to purchase today? And what percentage profit will I be making out of saving your pretty necks?”
Zihaeri’s eyes narrowed in a way Tytiana recognised all too well. “Zihaeri, play fair.”
Her sister pasted on the sweetest and most utterly fake smile she could manage. “Islands’ greetings, rich girl. How can I help put the glittering abundance of your treasury to good use, you ask? Let me make you a proposal.”
Jakani cleared his throat. “May I remind you, you’re bargaining with a Dragon?”
“Seems I might end up being related to one.”
* * * *
Having no idea how he might turn up as a Dragon and introduce himself to his parents, who had only raised him from babyhood, Jakani Shifted back to his Human form, borrowed the plainest and least wealthy-looking clothing he could find, and decided to take a little run while Shalanya and the Choices put meat on the framework they had designed. Pooling their three shares, the Choices held a thirty-five percent interest in the family business, a mere fraction larger than their late father’s share, and that by legal fiat gave them a controlling vote – until someone worked out what they were doing, and formed a counter-alliance. Therefore, they had to work fast but legally to ink a binding agreement on scrolleaf before any well-meaning relatives could interfere.
Basically, sell the House out from under the relatives’ avaricious noses before they sniffed the lay of the silk, as Zihaeri put it. Then, in two years’ time, Immadia would be contractually bound to return the controlling interest for a tidy profit.
Perfect.
“Join me later?” he asked Tytiana.
“Aye. As soon as the ink’s done sanding and we’ve sealed this beast,” she replied. Zihaeri was still writing furiously on quite the largest piece of scrolleaf he had ever seen, her quill pen scratching away industriously. Writing was another art he’d need to master one day. “Run safely.”
“I’m a Dragon.”
“Mmm.”
“Aargh – I’m off before you embarrass me again.”
Her laughter rang in his ears as he set off from the estate House, but Jakani did wonder if he detected a hint of ambivalence in her teasing. This Dirt Picker felt exactly the same. It was so peculiar to run the same trails he had always run, yet to know with every step that he was different. Changed. An allegedly powerful, noble and mystical creature of fire and air, who owned the very vaults of the heavens as his own. He still felt like that young man who used to run this way merely for the joy – and sometimes suffering, truth be told – of spending time in the Choice Tytiana’s company. And, she loved him? Somehow, he feared to wake up with a bruise upon his forehead, having fallen out of his bunk bed and realising this was all a crazy dream.
The running was good.
The pain in his shoulder, not so good.
Evidently Flicker had been right on the mark when he advised that a Dragon’s resources took time to recover – very rapidly in comparison to Human equivalents, but all the same, the battles and travel had made for tough going for an undersized fledgling.
Thanks, Flicker!
Yet when he thought upon his family, the miles flew joyously beneath his feet. Charging through the still, hot late afternoon, the familiar smells of rich loam and fenturi fruit and the slight acid tang of spider droppings filling his lungs. The suns-light, ruddy and comforting through the arched burgundy boughs. He was a barefoot Dirt Picker, yet not. He could fly this Isle upon a whim. His family could not. They were rooted, he was born to soar. They were poor, and he had the riches of an entire Island-World at his fingertips.
Disconcerting. Humbling.
To his surprise, the realisation brought tears to his eyes.
Coming at last to the stream at the base of his small village on the green-grassed hillside, he knew he looked at the place with new eyes, and took a moment to compose himself. No, this was no Palace of Immadia. This was no House Cyraxana. This was his home, and he would never be ashamed of who he was and where he came from, he vowed. Still, small and rudimentary as the huts seemed to him now, the simplicity of this lifestyle called to his inmost feelings. Smokey food scents – delicious. There was goodness here. Home and hearth, love and laughter, and a door that stood a little ajar as if to welcome a sojourner, or a son.
He splashed cool stream water on his face and gave his black mop a cursory run-through with his fingers. No, that would never suffice for a Princess or a Choice, but he was neither of those, was he?
He was lamko.
He was Jakani, the Nikuko warrior.
He was an Onyx-Gold Shapeshifter Dragon, who feared nothing more than his family’s reaction when they learned what he had become.
Thus it was that as he walked up to the hut, his heartbeat thundered rapidly behind his ears, and he felt faint. Still, he enjoyed surprises. That was, until he heard a woman sobbing. Mother! Oh Fra’anior, what have I done … why had he not come earlier?
Throwing caution to the windrocs, Jakani shouldered the front door open. “Mom! Dad! I’m home!”
The sobbing cut off sharply. Mayoko screamed! Sokadan, over by the hearth, knelt chisel in hand, staring past the tabletop with huge eyes. Airi, dear little Airi, came hurtling out of their parents’ bedroom like a startled dragonet, her black hair whipping about, half-braided. She ambushed his midsection with a wild sob, and then he was holding her as her little fists beat against his chest. “Jaki, Jaki, Jaki, where you been?”
“I’m back, sweet pea. Look, I’m safe and well.”
“Your arm’s in a sling,” Mayoko pointed out coolly. Jakani just beckoned to her. Her face crumpled; his so-serious little sister almost tripped over Sokadan as she rounded their table and flung herself into his arms, jolting his injured shoulder. “Brother! Dad said – bad Dragon – and a fire? You left without saying anything.”
“It’s been an adventure, baby sis.”
She held him fiercely. “No having adventures without us! It is not permitted.”
Leaning down, Jakani reached for Sokadan. “Come here, you.”
Then he saw Isimi swinging out of the bedroom on hands and knees, her face alight with hope and wonder, grimy cheeks stained with tears, and he wondered that she did not look fifty years older. So worn with care for her absent son. He lurched toward her, became tangled up in Airi’s feet, and toppled. A twist onto his right side thankfully brought them all down safely albeit with a jarring thump, and then his precious mother scrambled over to throw herself upon his neck, kissing him over and over, and sobbing even more wildly than before, only these tears were different. Joy reigned!
Then, amidst the turmoil, they heard running feet outside and the oft-abused front door slammed open a second time. Hanzaki, followed by shy Arzan. His father gasped, “The neighbour – she said – Jakani! Oh, my son, my son …”
“Hey, come pile on, Dad. Arzan! Don’t you dare – oof – just stand there.”
Crazy Sakazi family. Had anyone peered through the doorway just then, they would have seen a jumble of limbs and a tangle of laughter, and wondered what kind of family hel
d wrestling matches on their hut’s floor. Even Hanzaki was in the thick of it all, tickling Airi’s ear and pulling Arzan deeper into the pile. Mayoko wriggled and complained, but not very much. As for Isimi, he thought she would never stop crying, but after a long, long time she rocked back onto her knees and scolded:
“So? You run off with barely a word and come back weeks later. Where have you been, son? We were beside ourselves!”
He tried his most scamp-ish grin. “To Immadia and back, just to see the sights – ouch! Mom, I’m serious. I saw the mountains of Immadia, and they were beautiful. Plus, I returned with my girl.”
Isimi’s eyes widened. “Oh? She’s your girl now?”
“Jakani’s in love? Ew,” Mayoko put in primly. “You’re a terrible fibber, Jaki.”
“Alright, Mayoko. I brought back a Princess from Immadia especially to meet you. Ouch! Mom! Suffering caroli, I’m trying to tell the truth here.”
“That’s a love-smack,” Isimi advised. “For all the worry you caused.”
“It wasn’t exactly intentional. I didn’t plan on getting kidnapped by a rogue Dragon, for example, who did turn out to be good in the end – so there’s a result.”
“Jakani!” Hanzaki roared. “Right, everyone, to the table. Son, can you try, please, to tell us what happened from the beginning so that we actually understand in some kind of coherent order what happened to you? The messages from the House were more garbled than any spider’s web – you died, you lived, you ran off with the Choice, you walked through fire, you charged into the Ball like a crazy man, all afire … even that you set the fire yourself!”
He nodded. “Well, almost all of the above, give or take, Dad – ouch! When will people stop hitting me? Honestly! Anyone would think you’re my family or something.”
“What’s family for, I ask you?” Sokadan chuckled, reaching out.
“Ouch.”
* * * *
Considering the twenty-odd interruptions from glad neighbours, friends and more distant relatives all coming to congratulate the Sakazi family on the safe return of their son, he had only reached the point in his story when he woke up in captivity in Immadia, when there came yet another knock upon the door, this time, rather than upon the lintel as was the lamko way.
Jakani bolted off his chair. “I’ll get this one, Dad.”
His mother looked most amused at his wasp-stung reaction, but her expression soon switched to alarmed wonder as a small procession entered her house – first Tytiana, then the Princess of Immadia, and now Flicker, Zihaeri, Quiraeli and even Sariaki.
He bowed stiffly as the girls plus dragonet lined up awkwardly just inside the doorway. The shoulder was not comfortable. War wounds were far more glamorous in the ballads than in real life.
Tytiana returned his bow graciously, the wealth of her hair sliding about her shoulders until it almost swept their dirt floor. “Family Sakazi, I am most honoured to visit your home once more. I bring with me Her Royal Highness the Princess Shalanya of Immadia, an Albino Shapeshifter Dragoness, and this is the most noble Flicker, legendary companion to Hualiama Dragonfriend, and these are my honoured sisters, the Choices Zihaeri, Quiraeli and Sariaki. We are privileged and delighted to make your acquaintance, and we hope that the friendship between our families will be a deep and long-lasting one.”
Shalanya and Flicker also greeted the stunned Sakazi family warmly, before Zihaeri stepped forward with a deep genuflection. She said, “Much has changed these last few weeks. We regret disturbing your happy family reunion like this, but we have some important matters to discuss, and I in particular will need your help, Mister and Mrs Sakazi, as we seek to chart a way forward for this estate following the lamentable death of my father, the High Master Juzzakarr.”
The family gasped.
“Jakani?” Tytiana smiled at him, which did not help his composure one bit.
“Uh, aye. Introductions. I’m sorry, we don’t have enough seats –”
“We’ve a new bench outside, brother,” said Sokadan, in a decidedly edgy voice. “I made it for another family, but I’m sure they wouldn’t mind a little royal usage. Probably make the bench famous.”
Shalanya chuckled warmly and turned the full power of her dimples upon the occupants of the table. “I hear there’s a master craftsman in the house. That must be you, Sokadan?”
“Er … umm,” he mumbled.
“Very well,” said Jakani. He introduced his family in the approved manner, before adding, “Now, if I may be so bold as to suggest seating arrangements? Sariaki, would you snug up with Airi on the bench? You are the same age, I believe.”
“Ooh, we can be friends!” Sariaki piped.
Airi patted the spot. “Come on! Isn’t your hair pretty? I like your bows.”
“Here, I brought some butterfly clips for you,” Sari said. “Qui said these would look the best in dark hair. I think she’s right. See?”
“Ooh, pretty!”
With the youngest ones already making friends, to his delight, Jakani continued, “Shalanya and Zihaeri, you’ll squeeze in beside my Mom and Dad – if you shift up one, Dad, please? Arzan, over here with me. Mayoko, will you take the seat next to the Princess? Good, that works. Quiraeli, there’s a spot open next to Sokadan.” Conveniently! “That seat, if you please. Flicker –”
“I rather fancy the warmth of this hearth fire,” he said, “but I would not wish to disturb an artist’s workspace.”
“Disturb away,” said Sokadan.
“He speaks?” Airi squeaked, then clapped her hands to her mouth. “Sorry, noble Flickery.”
Sari giggled merrily, “That’s Flicker, you silly. And, he’s super-old. Like, centuries. He’s the daddy of that egg my sister and your brother found –”
“Speaking of which, where has that rascally egg vanished to this time?” asked Tytiana, patting the pockets of her sleek, soft peach silk dress. “I could have sworn – no, not in my belt pouch either. I give up. Mrs Sakazi, how do you ever teach children to behave?”
Jakani lent her a hand as Tytiana awkwardly lowered herself onto the bench. She whispered that her backup foot wasn’t as flexible as the previous one. He hardly minded. There wasn’t much space left on the bench with a dozen people crammed around the table, so they touched at knee, hip and elbow. Hardship? What hardship?
Isimi chuckled, “I’m hardly any expert, Choice Tytiana. Please call me Isimi. And my husband is Hanzaki.”
Raising his hands, Hanzaki said formally, “O Fra’anior, we grieve the loss of a man who was father to these young women. I pray the wisdom and peace of the Ancient Onyx be accorded unto them, that they may deeply grieve their loss yet know the transcendent comfort of the eternal fire that you set alight in all of our hearts. Let it be.”
Jakani saw a glimmering tear form in Tytiana’s eye at this blessing. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Then there was quiet, as no-one seemed to know what to say or where to start. So much brimmed between them. Uncertainty. Hope. Awkwardness. Here was his family sitting with a Princess at table, Islands’ sakes! Some sat in rags, the others were finely dressed with jewels upon brow, wrist and neck. Yet was this not a picture of what could be?
His father said, “Honoured Choice, how may we serve? What help may we provide?”
Deep in his mind, he heard Flicker say, You haven’t told them yet, have you?
No, noble Flicker. I didn’t get a chance.
Fear not, son. I’ve seen a few families in my years. This is one of, if not the finest I have ever had the privilege to sit amongst. When he snorted slightly, mentally, without meaning to, the dragonet added calmly, I am most certainly old enough and ugly enough to know exactly what I’m talking about, and far too grumpy to bother to lie to you! So shut your fangs for once, youngling.
Sorry, noble Fl –
“Ouch!” Jakani exclaimed aloud as a now-familiar, hard ovoid pinged off his head. His hand snapped out to catch the gilded egg. Exactly the same spot. Never failed.
It was wriggling! Tapping! He opened his fingers.
“Oh!” Tytiana gasped as the egg bounced off his hand and rolled toward her lap. She fumbled, caught it, and then exclaimed again, “Oh! Rainbows and – I think it’s – aye!” Come to mama, little one.
Krack. A tiny white snout with an ever-so-delicately rose tip peeked out of a crack in the eggshell. Everyone leaned forward as one, for there on the palm of her upraised hand, the eggshell split in two and now, preening and arching her back as though she had slept for the longest time, they saw a perfect white dragonet, a mere six inches long but already resplendent in her Dragonish perfection. Pinprick talons. Wings already unfurling and filling with blood, seeming to stiffen before their amazed gazes. Eyes of a delicate, chrysoprase green, filled with living fire.
Burbling a wordless song, the mite rubbed lovingly against the ball of Tytiana’s thumb. Then, she strolled up the Choice’s sleeve with utter insouciance, scrabbled a little awkwardly over the slight shoulder-ruff of her dress, brushing through the fall of crimson-gold hair, and snuggled herself against the pulse of Tytiana’s neck.
The girl’s eyes flew wide. “She says her name is Wink.”
Blessed eggling, she is born! Flicker exulted.
What a miracle of birth had just taken place on a tabletop!
Reaching out, Jakani tickled the dragonet beneath the chin. “Hey, beautiful. Welcome to the family. We’ve a great deal to thank you for.”
Chapter 29: Dragon in the Room
WITH ZIHAERI HAPPILY expounding her ideas to Jakani’s Dad and Mom, the rest of the family began to grow restless. Qui and Sokadan were obviously not looking at each other in the most hilariously uncomfortable way, Sari was dressing Airi’s hair, and the Princess appeared to be having a conversation with Flicker in her mind. At least, her face looked curiously blank and Flicker was not being his usually snarky self. That left her to cuddle the newborn Wink and to marvel at how different the vibe in the Sakazi household was to her own. They certainly seemed fine with Jakani being a Dragon!
