She thought to bed down beside her dragon friends, but her new employers had other ideas.
“You can sleep when this is over,” the man who was apparently her supervisor said. “You walk around the park picking up dragon crap. The grounds should be clean and inviting for opening day.”
She yawned and nodded. She wanted to sleep, but this was an excellent opportunity to look around and see what this was truly about, because she knew the Hiring Fair excuse, while actually quite a good idea, was not the real reason for the Fair and its gathering of dragons.
Since the main site of the Fair had not yet opened, she had only the dragon meadow to clear of dung, which steamed in the chill of the night. Devent and Smelt accompanied her on her rounds, turning the piles into vapor with economical puffs of fiery breath.
It wasn’t magic. It was a characteristic of beasts meant to be extremely large, able to fly and breathe fire. In their natural state the gas expelled from digestion was used as fuel for the fire, but once it was expelled as waste, a dragon could simply ignite it to clean a lair or hide a trail. Well, hide it if the pursuer was a near-sighted knight who might not notice a small amount of singed foliage once in awhile. She had learned this while living in the lair of the Dragon Vitia and her get. It seemed the dragons born and bred for industrial work had not had a chance to learn the basics of their species’ hygiene.
Although the human side of the Fairgrounds bloomed with pavilions and bristled with stalls, the dragon side had fewer structures save for a long eastern wall between the Fairgrounds and the foothills. As it was well constructed of stone, she guessed it might have been there before the Fair was thought of, a relic of some old farmstead. Mostly the dragon side seemed to feature dozing dragons, weary from the long trip to the Fair, but not yet in natural hibernation mode. The working dragons had been trained into regular sleep periods like the humans, and she wondered how much of that conditioning held now that they had been unemployed for some time.
As she rolled her wheelbarrow and Devent hissed, flaming the smelly piles of poop into nothingness, up ahead of them two fires hardly bigger than candles flickered in the darkness, moving up and down, side to side, over and under one another.
“Babies,” she told her companions. “Someone has brought her babies.”
“Perhaps I could sing them a lullaby?” Devent suggested.
Smelt grunted. “Haven’t seen any babies since you, laddie, were born one mornin’ in the drizzling rain.”
Verity smiled, “I spent most of last year raising a couple of sparks like that in their mother’s cave while she hibernated. She had already toilet trained them, fortunately. I taught them some glass working skills to help them govern their flames. Maybe I could teach these young ones, too, if their mother allows? It would give them a marketable skill, especially if fairs like this catch on. Only problem would be—hmm, where to find some good bead making material? Vitia’s cave had some magically infused crystal formations on the walls. But here on the grounds—”
Smelt snorted. “There’s crystal in caves hereabouts, in the hills beyond yon wall. I could fetch you some for the young ones to learn with, if you like.”
“Excellent!” Devent cried. Verity put her finger to her lips and he lowered his voice and looked around to see if his loudness had caused any damage. In the mines it might lead to a cave-in, but they were now in open meadows. In a much-moderated tone he said, “We can all have another adventure!”
“Nay, laddie,” Smelt told his friend. “You need to stay here and sing your songs, start that career of yours. It seems like a good place for that.”
“I agree,” Verity said, when Devent looked disappointed. “I may have need of your skills soon. I need time here to poke around, to look into who is behind this lovely Fair and what they really mean to accomplish with it.”
“I can go alone, lad,” Smelt said. “I once knew these hills better than I know the color of steel at any given heat. My wings have been healing as we’ve traveled, and I can fly a bit now. I fancy I can sail over yon wall with no problem and be back by tomorrow night at the latest so her can start schoolin’ the young’uns.”
Earlier in the evening they had found the feast laid out for the dragon guests in front of a low stone building, so all had enjoyed helpings of fresh meat. Verity made do with a chicken pasty she’d bought from a food cart set up by some enterprising soul. It had cost her three coppers, but she hadn’t eaten for some time and even the cold pie stuffed with what tasted like stringy old rooster was worth it.
Smelt soon blended with the night. As she and Devent continued cleaning, she realized that the erratic little fires no longer burned where they had been before. In fact, though she could make out a depression in the ground where the mother dragon had lain, neither she nor her young were there any longer.
“I was too loud,” Devent said remorsefully. “I scared them away.”
“I just got a twinge when you said that,” Verity told him. “So it’s not true.”
“Where did they go?” Devent asked.
“I don’t know,” Verity said. “So now it’s one of the things we need to learn about this event.”
The next morning the dragons wakened to a chime calling them to feed again before lining up for the Hiring Fair. While Devent did that, Verity took the opportunity to visit the human side of the grounds.
Even in the drowsy morning, the Fair had life as people in various bits of garb probably gleaned from their grandparents’ attics and storage chests swaggered about attempting to pose and speak as they imagined people might have done in ‘ye olde tymes’.
She heard a familiar clacking and peered under the awning of one booth to see Mistress Marsha at her sewing machine, pedaling away, stitching a white garment. A rack of similar gowns hung from one of the walls of the booth. Marsha was absorbed in her sewing and did not look up until Verity stood beside her and said, loudly enough to be heard over the sewing machine. “It’s good to see you here,” Verity said. “Please don’t give me away. I’m incognito. Not a majesty or anything. In fact, I’m a humble groundskeeper and sweeper of dragon dung, or so the organizers think.”
“Yes,” Marsha said, her foot releasing the pedal. “So I can smell.”
“Who else is here? Have you seen anyone you know from the city? Did Toby help organize this? Do you know where he and Taz are?”
“I’ve seen them flying from time to time, but I wasn’t paying attention really.”
“Why are you making only white dresses today?”
“Oh, these are damsel dresses. All of the girls are wanting them for one of the activities advertised, the game of Damsels and Dragons. When damsels were once sacrificed to dragons, they seemed to always be wearing a flowing white gown that was impractical in almost every way, with a lot of flowers woven into their hair, and bare feet.”
“I’m quite sure the dragons would have preferred a side of beef,” Verity said. “So many maidens are underweight. They can’t compete with a nice elk or moose.”
“I’m sure you’re right. I think the white dresses are emblematic of the image the maidens are supposed to present. Pure and virginal and all that sort of thing.”
“I hope the fabric is inexpensive, anyway,” Verity said.
“It is because it’s not supposed to matter. I don’t even bother with pockets or any sort of styling on a lot of these. They’re just supposed to burn up when the girl dies.”
“Except she won’t, of course,” Verity said. “Die, I mean.”
“Of course not. It’s just for show. A tableau depicting an era in dragon lore.”
“That hardly seems helpful to bring up when the dragons are trying to better themselves. I’d think the aim would be to present them in a more trustworthy and benign light.”
“You’d think. I suppose the organizers feel that presenting them as one-time powerful monsters that could devour women in one bite unless deterred by some man in armor is more appealing to the general public.”
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Verity sighed. “If you see Toby, please tell him I’m looking for him.”
“Of course,” said Mistress Marsha, her foot poised above the pedal.
Verity didn’t notice until she began walking away that one of the beads on her necklace was jigging against her skin, clicking on the adjacent beads. She’d been around Mistress Marsha several times since she sorted the beads, but she had never noticed their reaction to Marsha. She hadn’t noticed this time until she stepped away from the stall. The clatter of the sewing machine masked the bead’s noise. She turned around and returned to the stall. Mistress Marsha looked up with a smile that was a little hollow. “Yes?”
“I was wondering if you had any magical ancestry… wizards or witches, that sort of people in your family tree?”
“Oh yes, as a matter of fact, since you mention it. My great-great-grandmother Gladys was a fairly well-known Stitch Witch. Invisible cloaks were a specialty of hers. Seven League dance slippers, bottomless reticules in a wide variety of stylish shapes, colors, and currencies. My mother had no use for magic, but says it skipped a generation and came to me instead, along with the family business. I just make beautiful dresses, but they are enchanting if I do say so myself. Fancy you bringing that up!”
“I have something for you,” Verity said, untying her necklace and slipping off beads until she came to the active one.
“Oh no, not one of your special beads! I couldn’t really, Verity. Those things everyone thought were so magical don’t even work! They’re nothing but vintage clothing with some entertaining stories attached.”
“So, do you still have some of them?”
“Only one old cloak. I use it to wrap some of my new things in, to keep the rain and dirt out of them.”
“I’d like to see it, if you don’t mind. But please do accept the bead. It’s not my idea, you know. It’s the magic in the beads.”
Mistress Marsha gave her a slightly skeptical look and a somewhat put-upon sigh but duly dug through her things and finally unwrapped a bundle of white fabric and pressed the dingy old cloak in which it was wrapped into Verity’s hands.
Verity shook it out and wrapped it around herself.
“My word,” Mistress Marsha said. “It’s never done that before! If it had, I’d never have been able to find anything I wrapped in it.”
“Mmm,” Verity said, looking down at herself and seeing that she did not, in fact, actually appear to be there. “This could come in very handy. Do you suppose I might borrow it?”
“Well, yes, certainly. Be my guest.”
“Thanks,” Verity said and started to add something about when she would return it, except she didn’t know yet. “I’ll need something to wrap it in that’s not invisible, so I can find it again.”
“That’s easy enough,” Mistress Marsha said. “Take one of the damsel dresses. I think this one is large enough for someone your height.”
“It might make a nice nightdress. It’s not anything like what I wore when I was being sacrificed to the Dragon Vitia. Thank goodness I had on heavier clothing and a stout coat and boots when that happened, or I’d never have survived winter in the lair.”
“Shhh,” Marsha said, pretending to whisper. “It’s the popular conception of what a dragon’s damsel ought to wear. Mustn’t disappoint the punters, as Captain Lewis might say. If you wear it with nothing else, it’s nearly transparent and I suppose that’s the attraction. Other than that it is wildly impractical and would make it very difficult for anyone wearing it to hide from the dragon in question, if one had slipped whatever bonds or restraints were involved.”
“Thanks again,” Verity told her, and tucking the damsel dress-wrapped cloak of invisibility beneath her arm, set off to continue observing the morning’s activity.
Almost as if mentioning Captain Lewis had invoked her, she appeared, dressed in her best, dandified piratical gear, surrounded by her shipmates and a number of the ladies from Aunt Erotica’s, dressed in their most festive work clothes. It would take more than a flimsy white dress to make many of them appear pure, but they seemed to be in a playful mood. Verity had no doubt some attendees would be glad to see them.
The crew carried the poles and canvas for two structures, a stage with sails in the background for the cabaret artists of the Belle’s Shell, and a pavilion for the ladies. It started as a plain item in natural hempen color but before the gates to the grounds open, it was swagged with colorful veils and scarves tied with tasseled ropes.
Verity started in that direction but stopped when she saw the pottery display Clodagh had erected, with Kiln concealed behind the back panel of the stall and stacks of plates, cups and bowls glazed with red and bright blue advertising themselves beneath the front awning. Clodagh was bent over a table, hand forming snakes of clay and coiling them into the shapes of vessels she quickly patted and smoothed into shapes of more cups, bowls, plates, pitchers and vases before ducking behind the curtain long enough to take them to Kiln.
The golem girl was intent on her work and Verity didn’t interrupt her.
A murmur rapidly building to a crowd-generated cacophony broke into the relative silence of the morning, as a river of people flooded in. The gates had opened, and the Fair had begun.
The foremost feature was supposed to be the Hiring Fair, she understood, where dragons would be offered the kind of food they required now that they had been released from their former employment. At the top of the grounds, the area backed by the mountains, a long row of booths had been erected. The area in front of it was a precisely laid out charred field, free of trees or structures. Verity counted twenty dragons waiting to be summoned.
She saw a few she recognized from the streets and roofs of Queenston.
“You, there, lad,” a male voice called from behind her. “You’re the one who speaks dragon?”
“Aye, sir,” Verity said, deepening her voice just a little. Her head throbbed a bit from not correcting the man’s assumption that she was a boy. The commanding voice was familiar and when she got a look at him, she realized her was one of Malady’s uncles on the council. She hoped she could learn more about what this Fair was for before Malady arrived. Verity had no illusions about being able to fool her old school ‘friend.’
The councilman handed her a clipboard such as she’d seen in some of her classes. “Here. For each applicant, get his name, previous employment, and desired future occupation. Find out how much each of them can eat and if they were happy at their former job. Then escort them to the employers waiting to hire them.”
“Aye, sir,” she said again, but she missed Toby and Taz. They were the ones who should be doing the translating. They had a much better idea about the problems dragons had than she did. But she saw neither dragon nor wrangler in the crowd, or among the applicants. Approaching the stagecoach-sized beast at the head of the line, she said, “Erm. Name?”
“Petunia,” the beast replied. Her eyes were the size of Verity’s boot prints. She was less like an actual petunia than like an old rose in coloring.
“That’s a pretty name. What work did you do before, Petunia?”
“I heated the glass houses where out of season plants were grown.”
“Did you like it?”
Petunia blew sparks through her nose. “I’d have preferred something that gave me more creative leeway, if you must know. But—say, how did you come to speak Dragonish? Your accent is not bad, for a human.”
“I worked for a dragon one winter, doing childcare,” she said.
“You, a human, worked for a dragon? What did she pay you?”
“My life.”
“That was a good price, but I didn’t know it ever worked that way.”
“Yes, that and some beads I helped her twin babies make.”
“Bead making. I might like to try that myself.”
From a table with a pennant declaring it to be ‘Dragon Resources,’ someone beckoned her, calling out, “You there, the job creators are waiting. Bring the be
ast over and let’s see what it’s suited for.”
Verity introduced Petunia. A rather severe looking woman sat in the first booth. “She’s quite a large beast. It would be expensive to feed her. What can she do?”
“She says she provided the heat for a huge glass house in the city where many of the vegetables and flowers are grown for the markets.”
“All we need is someone to create fire to drive our engines,” the lady said. “We make gardening tools. Next.”
“What sort of appetite does she have?” the next potential employer asked.
“That would be hard to say, wouldn’t it, sir, when she’s only been fed kibble until recently?”
“Well, we only are prepared to pay in chickens.”
“Do you like chickens, Petunia?” Verity asked.
“I don’t know. Do they taste like Kibble?”
Verity shrugged.
“I’ll try it,” Petunia said, looking as shy as a dragon’s face could look. “And—yes, I would like the job—but for part of my pay I want someone to show me how the tools are used so I can start my own garden.”
“That certainly sounds fair to me,” Verity said, half to the dragon and half to the people conducting the interview.
“What?” the interviewers asked.
“Well, she wants to grow food and flowers, too,” Verity said. “That might help with the expense of feeding her if she grew some food. Don’t you think?”
“That might figure into the bargain, especially if she is actually willing to eat some of what she grows. I’ve never heard of a vegetarian dragon before though.”
“Kibble is made from grains…” Verity began.
The man she thought of as the dragon foreman took her arm and led her away from Petunia while another man led the horticulturally inclined beast in the opposite direction. “Wait, did she get the job?” Verity asked.
“That’s not your concern,” he told her. “You have more translating to do before you clean the grounds this evening.”
She translated for ten more interviews. Petunia was one of the cleverest of the applicants. Many of the dragons were either much dimmer or more damaged by their former working conditions than she was and had no idea what they wanted to do beyond ‘get food’ and ‘make fire.’ She wondered if they would be more forthcoming for Toby with Taz to help him. They might communicate more openly with another dragon.
The Redundant Dragons Page 23
