But Jason’s ever-questioning mind had not finished exploring his recent encounter with the “needlers”. As he laid out his bedroll, he saw Nathan take out his lute. Before the bard could start another lesson he quickly interjected, “You know, I’ve met people like them before – some of the other children in the Orphanage (on the rare occasions when we were allowed to be together) used their ‘needles’ on me! Even when I didn’t want them to! It’s like they didn’t realize the pain those little thorns can cause. I’ve been stung with ‘barbs’ that have hurt for weeks. Some fun!”
Nathan shook his head from side to side and Jason knew that he, too, had felt the point of bitter barbs before. “It is a sad fact that most of the inhabitants of Dragonsback can find humor only if it is steeped in the pain of another. It is in the observing of the circumstances that cause the miss-step, the fall, the embarrassment, the humbling, or the thorn to reach the poor victim that the Dragon wants his children to find pleasure. He teaches any who will listen that funniest things in the land are those that would offend the Gryphon. But for Swimmers, this should never be so. Our Master wants us to always have our words purified by the flavor of the salt that comes from the eternal Sea, our hands empty of thorns (of any size), and our eyes and hearts tender to help those who fall—not find humor in their pain!”
“I can see that is bard’s truth if I have ever heard any!” replied Jason. “How foolish we must appear to our Savior, who sacrificed himself to take our pain away when we find pain in others to be so humorous! This is a strong lesson. I feel like a thorn is pricking my heart!”
The senior bard smiled at his student, “What you are feeling is actually a good thing, though it might hurt for a little! It is the talon of the Great Eagle tearing at the calluses that cover your emotional center. The Gryphon has healed the scars on your back, but the scars each of us have allowed to build up in our hearts take a deeper and longer work. When a young man gets married, and brings his new bride into the house that he has built for her, he had better expect some changes as she transforms that stone or wood or brick construct into a home for the two of them. So also is the coming of the Gryphon’s Son into your life. There is a process where He works on each of to make us fit inside here,” and Jason first touched his own chest then that of his student, “to be a home worthy of the King!
“But speaking of thornlings and marriage,” continued the bard. “One of the most pathetic things that I’ve ever seen is when those who are bound in marriage, daily cut at those bonds by using thornlings on each other. Those who use these thorns (just like those who take up their larger cousins) are unknowingly affected by the poison they are carrying. Eventually, they build up a tolerance that desensitizes them to the pain they are causing others. Tell me, my young student, what do you know about the nature and strengths of the ‘Venom of the Dragon’? And what does this have to do with thorns and thornlings?”
Jason thought a moment before replying, “I know that Swimmers consider the water of the River poison and so avoid it, while most of the rest of the peoples of Dragonsback do not. However, everyone recognizes that there are differing strengths to its liquid from very mild on the shores to extremely caustic and toxic in the channel at its center and that those different types of River water have different effects on people. There are those who deliberately drink ‘stronger’ water because of the effects it has on their minds. They say it makes them feel good, helps them to cope, or helps them forget. I also know that the stronger stuff often takes control of those who use it and makes them hunger for it more than anything else in life, to the point that they are called sick or diseased!”
When Jason paused to catch his breath, the Master Bard interjected, “Exactly! The depth of your answer surprises me! What you have said is also bard’s truth. The physicians would say that this stronger ‘water’ has a narcotic effect on its users that is extremely addictive. But remember my second question: how does this affect what you know about thorns and thornlings?”
“All thorns of any size are filled with River water in their hard, sponge-like centers,” replied the student and his teacher smiled at him approvingly. “I guess, since they act as storehouses of River water, they also concentrate what they hold. If it is concentrated, then it must have some of the same effects as stronger water from deeper in the River!”
“Right you are, again! Not only is it concentrated, but the longer they are kept, the more concentrated and strong the poison they hold becomes. And this goes for all thorns, regardless of their size. Even those tiny thorns, that people gather to use when they play their dangerous games of needling each other, hurt both the receiver and the giver. And this is particularly true if it happens to those who claim to love each other! To the one who wields it, the subtle ego-boosting drug of the thornling becomes its own reward, causing a blindness in the user that makes him or her think that needling others is actually a sign of affection. And so it happens that what they do in the name of Love, becomes one of Love’s greatest enemies.
“And now it’s time for your musical lesson! Learn well the Song of Love, my young charge,” said the bard and the solemnity of the past few moments disappeared like bright dawn dispelling the darkness of night. His voice seemed filled with sudden excitement. “You will need its wisdom both to give and to live all of your future life.” He tuned the pegs on his lute, preparing to play and a big smile broke across his face. Jason could tell by his expression, even though he had never heard this song before, that this must be one of Nathan’s favorites.
Nathan played a long and elaborate intro, strumming furiously, building from a low minor bass to final resolution in a major-key staccato tenor. Then, when Jason was expecting him to break forth in his voluminous baritone, the bard suddenly switched his voice to sound like that of a squeaky, pubescent youth. He twanged his lute in the manner of the unskilled popular singers and then presented his song:
When LOVE comes in time.
It makes your world rhyme:
Your words grow much sweeter
After you meter.
The words were over almost before they had begun and as the last discordant twang was mercifully covered up by nightfall, a strange silence descended on their simple camp.
That was it? Jason wondered. After all that buildup and fanfare, only four short lines and it’s over? What a disappointment!
But then he saw Nathan’s face in the twilight. The bard looked like a fermented skin ready to burst if anyone even breathed on it. Jason listened to the words he had just heard once more in his mind. Then… As their eyes met, both men burst into riotous laughter. And Jason finally understood: it had all been a ruse, an elaborate joke! He realized that Nathan’s lesson had been instead a lesson on how to use humor without thorns.
Later, when student and teacher alike had regained a grain of decorum and Jason had wiped the tears from his eyes, Nathan began his lesson in earnest while his student tended the fire for their evening meal, “Listen and learn the message behind the Song of Love. The yearning for Love can be more real than the having. The anticipation more alluring than the possession. Love must be a three-fold cord 3 braided with and by the Gryphon. Those who fashion it otherwise often find the chord too weak or the chains too strong. The love between a man and a woman is like a garden that will require tending. Perhaps one day the Gryphon King may allow you to plant one!
“Listen now to a true song, written by one wise in the ways of love...”
WILDFLOWERS
[A Lovers’ Song]
When we were young the flowers grew:
Wild, free, uncalled they came
Filling us with sights and sounds so new
We thought they’d always stay the same.
But time has passed and our flowers changed
As seeds we took in hand did grow:
No longer wild and free – they are arranged –
Becoming a garden in bed and row.
I’ve noticed other gardens now
By lovers planted long ago,
But deserted, they long for hoe or plow,
For lack of work, they fail to grow.
These, too, with wildflowers once were filled
And changed to gardens as time passed,
But through neglect, the blooms were killed,
All were replaced by weeds at last.
That which once was wild and free
(Grew on its own to fill the land)
No longer thrives so easily
But must be tended by our hand.
Those others failed to see this change
As good, looking at the work it brought,
And so from beauty were estranged
As they failed to labor as they ought.
But our garden is not lesser now
Because we stoop to till the earth,
The work it takes to pull the weeds
Only cultivates each flower’s worth.
C. A. V. E. S.
[Creating Alternative Values
to Emancipate Society]
Fresh air and sunlight did act as a rapid restorative; the breeze on Kaleb’s face and the reflected brightness from ahead lifted his spirits even before they exited the mountain tunnel.
He had not been sure what to expect of the “Lodge” that Raven had mentioned, but his limited experience had never prepared him for this reality. They emerged on an upper left-hand balcony overlooking the immense edifice. Built into what once must have been a steep mountain amphitheater, the scaline stone and timber structure literally seemed to cling to the concave face of the cliff. Its proportion and rustic elegance exceeded anything that Kaleb could ever have conceived in his wildest dreams. The growing craftsman within him recognized this magnificent building as a true work of art on a grand scale.
Speechless, he stood for long moments, bound by the captivating spell of the Lodge.
“Quite impressive, isn’t it?” asked the giant, but Kaleb still could find no words to answer him.
Not until Raven nudged him forward did his gaze leave what man had made long enough to grasp the natural beauty of the setting. Surrounded by jagged cliffs and great blue-green patches of majestic mountain pines, the Lodge commanded an unsurpassed view of the whole of the northern Heartland. From his perch on the southernmost point of the covered balcony, Kaleb could clearly see out across the wide Valley of the River to the cities and towns strung along its winding course. To his right, the smoke and mist-shrouded Head of the Dragon etched its mighty place on the northern horizon. There he saw for the first time the source of the River, that great horizontal fissure known as the Mouth of the Dragon. A great plume of water shot out of the crack to tumble riotously to the Valley floor below.
“Little brother, we must head to the Conference Room to take our place in the gallery before the meeting starts.” Raven pointed him to their left to follow the wide arc of the upper balcony.
Soon they ducked into another spiral passageway, leading down from the grand balcony. This one, however, sported carpeted stairs, a polished wooden hand railing, and a crystalline candelabrum hanging from the high ceiling!
In all of Dragonsback, there must not be a more wonderful place than this, marveled the young man to himself (though his open-mouthed awe was clearly evident to all who saw him). The descending stair deposited them into a wide hallway filled with beautiful people; men and women dressed in rich, regal clothing. Jewels and sparkling chains were everywhere. Kaleb knew instinctively that these were not people playing at being rich and powerful. No, these were the Dragon’s tooth, the real thing.
He instantly felt out of place, and (looking down at the new shimmering black robe that had seemed so splendid on the ride to this place) felt underdressed as well. He looked up at his large companion to see Raven’s reaction to this socially threatening crowd and encountered another of the day’s many surprises.
Raven walked through the midst of the mighty with his head held high, his chest out, and a definite swagger in his step. Instead of him deferring to them, the rich and the powerful reverently moved out of Raven’s way. To Kaleb’s eyes, this seemed not a reaction to the young man’s considerable size, but rather an act of respect in most of those they passed.
Almost as though he had read Kaleb’s mind, the gargantuan young man leaned over to wink at his companion and whispered in an exaggerated feminine voice that only he could hear, “Basic black is always in style, even among the fanciest dressers!”
Kaleb laughed in spite of his surroundings, but could not help but wonder, Who is my friend that even the movers of the world move for him?
The ritzy crowd moved as one toward an open set of double doors on their right. As Kaleb approached he saw that those arched doorways led to a broad open staircase which then descended into a huge indoor arena. This, the largest manmade room he had ever seen (on the outside of the Dragon, he added to himself) could easily have seated five double hands times ten, a number almost too high for him to comprehend.
But before he could follow the flow down to that wondrous room, Raven grabbed his shoulder and restrained him, saying, “Sorry little brother, but we are only observers to these proceedings, so have no place down on the ‘floor’. The next door on the right leads to our seats.”
Feeling embarrassed once again, Kaleb followed his friend through the indicated portal. There he found himself on an internal balcony, three or four seats high that surrounded and overlooked the meeting place from three sides. The magnificent room’s fourth wall, if it could be called that, held the most glorious wonder that Kaleb had seen yet.
The art of turning molten sand into small semi-transparent glazed sheets had come only lately to Dragonsback. As a result (Kaleb knew from his studies), any samples were rare and considered most precious regardless of their quality. Yet here before him, two and a half to three stories high stood a latticework of wood and scaline filled with the best and clearest examples of the glazier’s art that he could ever imagine existed. So clear in fact that he could easily see the patchwork quilt of farmland below them dissected by the shining twisted serpent of the Great River.
Raven led him to a place only manheights away from that glazed wall and a seat in the first row. Looking down over the polished wooden railing, Kaleb realized that before today, sitting that close to a drop-off would have been unnerving. Now he sat comfortably in a place four or five manheights above the floor below and many hundreds above the clearly seen Valley.
“Is this enough sunlight for you?” asked the giant.
But Kaleb could only respond with a question of his own, “What is this place and what is it used for?”
Though others had joined them in the balcony, no one had approached close enough to be within earshot. The meeting below had not yet come to order, so Raven took this opportunity to explain to his student exactly what he was seeing.
“The champions from the head of the River frequently come to this Lodge to escape the rigors and pressures of their jobs. Sometimes they are invited for special conferences; other times they come on their own for a holiday retreat. Do they actually know that the Lodge is owned and run by the Society of Dragonmen? Some do, most do not. With the present atmosphere, most who come wouldn’t care one way or the other (though that’s probably not what the folks back home who support them would think!). Because we control this supposedly neutral retreat, we are able to covertly influence the outcome of the meetings that take place here. We make sure that the people we want to strengthen get invited and just happen to meet with just the right well-to-do backers who will subsequently support them in the efforts we of the Society choose to support.”
As Raven spoke, Kaleb noticed that his speech seemed different, somehow more polished like his surroundings. Gone were the contractions and slurred words of his companion of the caves. In their place flowed a verbal stream marked by the perfect diction and clarity of a public orator. Kaleb wondered at this transformation in his friend who could apparently change his speech habits as easil
y as a garment.
“We also,” continued the large blackrobe, “make sure that those we oppose somehow either miss their invitations or, if they do come, are directed away from beneficial contacts and are surrounded instead by those who constantly question their point of view. We dine them well and pamper them with enough luxury to dull the senses of even the most fastidious man or woman, but most of them ‘mysteriously’ go away from here less rested than when they arrived. This too serves our purpose, for a weakened opponent is easier to defeat. And, yes, we are in a battle; a battle for the right to determine the fate of all men on Dragonsback. Will humanity live as unenlightened bigots under the restrictive and oppressive rules of some mythical Gryphon? Or will they live in the self-determination and freedom of the Dragon on whom we live, move, and have our being?!”
“Do we really exercise that much control over the events on Dragonsback?" asked the newest young blackrobe on Dragonsback. "Is the Society really that powerful?”
The hearty outburst of Raven's initial response momentarily filled the large space with the sound of his laughter, before he quietly answered in a much more conspiratorial whisper, “If some of those occasionally seated below really knew the answer to that question, they would go running home screaming to their mothers! Today’s meeting will be somewhat different. It is a strategy meeting of those we trust and who trust us, uniting the considerable talents of like-minded teachers, champions, bards (yes, some bards do sing our song), and businessmen all under the protective wings of the Society of Dragonmen. Those gathered below are our friends or they wouldn’t be here today.”
Kaleb felt his pulse rise as he began to comprehend the extent of the intrigue and duplicity that his friend’s words implied. This whole thing seemed like a conspiracy against the Swimmers! He liked it! This was his kind of place. Not only did they work openly against his enemy on one front, but they also hit them hard where they weren’t looking on the other!”
The Dragon's Back Trilogy Page 31
