Heart's Blood

by Jane Yolen

  "What have we here?" It was Golden. He'd come into the garden silently. Of course, the dragons had been making so much noise, it wasn't a surprise that they hadn't heard him until he spoke.

  They turned as one to greet him, Henkky giving him an embrace and Akki glaring.

  "What, my darling goddaughter isn't pleased to see me?" The exaggerated drawl, the slight mocking smile, the tight-waisted suit that was the color of the grass, all this made him as different from the Golden she'd known in the copter, as the Boomer she'd met in the truck.

  Akki was at a loss for words.

  "Niece, you old faker," Henkky said. "We'd better get that story down pat at dinner." She held out her hand to him and sat him down at the little table.

  "And dinner will be soon, I hope."

  "Senekka is at it now."

  "How can I be bonded to a woman who can't cook? I should take Senekka to be my bondmate instead."

  "She's not your type," Henkky said smugly. "And you love me because my work is more important to you than food."

  He put his arm around her waist and drew her close, winking at Akki as he did so. "Nothing, my darling, is more important than food. As our young friend/niece/goddaughter there found out in the mountains. Food and shelter. And she will tell you all about it, once she finds her tongue." Laughing, he stood and led the doctor back into the house, where Akki, half reluctantly, half eagerly, followed.

  ***

  AKKI DIDN'T expect it, but the dinner was astonishingly good. It wasn't the mash-and-bash dinners that Kkarina served up at the nursery—hearty, to be sure, but numbingly familiar. This dinner consisted of small portions of freshly picked and nicely steamed vegetables from the greenhouse. When bitten into, they released exotic herbs and spices. There was some sort of rice-and-egg dish that was entirely filling. And large crusty rolls with an empty center that could be filled with a sweet berry jam or a salty nut spread. She'd never had such a wonderful meal in her life, and said so to Senekka as she rose to help bring the dirty dishes into the kitchen.

  "Sit down, goddaughter." Golden spoke in a drawling, haughty voice that was as much an act as Boomer's graceless sentences.

  "Niece," Henkky reminded him.

  Akki smiled at him. "If all Austarians are now equal—master and bonder—then shouldn't we do equal work?"

  He leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped over his chest, and laughed. "When you can cook as well as Senekka, you will command her price. And it's not a small price, either, especially since all my friends have been trying to tempt her to leave me and go cook for them. She'd leave, too, if she weren't so enamored of me. Isn't that right, sweet-meatling?"

  Senekka made a face at him.

  He shook his forefinger at Akki. "So, till your skills are equal to hers, sit down and let her work at her own pace."

  Senekka took the plates from Akki's hands. "He's right, you know. The kitchen is my domain. Not his. Not hers. And definitely not yours. I don't like anyone else banging around in it." It was more than she'd said so far, and she disappeared immediately through the kitchen door after making the pronouncement.

  "And now," Golden said, the drawl gone for good, "let me tell you what tomorrow promises."

  As if I'd go. But Akki was curious, and so she listened.

  Tomorrow, it seemed, would pit the four men running for Golden's senate seat against one another in a debate at the senate hall. In the actual debate, they would be allowed to speak on any subjects they wanted to for twenty minutes. In the free-for-all that followed, they would challenge one another's assumptions, proffer their own in exchange, and none of it done politely.

  Henkky added that in the free-for-all, they might also call an opponent names, mock his suit, his ideas, his physical attributes, or his ancestry. "In fact," she added, "everything is allowed then but violence."

  "Well, at least the candidates have to be above the 'violence of the hand,'" Golden said. He seemed to be quoting actual rules, and only half seriously at that. Standing, he went over to a side table on which takk was bubbling away in a glass pot.

  "Though not 'the violence of the mouth,'" Henkky added. She held up her cup for a refill, which he quickly poured for her. "Wit and wisdom combined with a wicked tongue are what wins the day."

  "Is that truly how a senator is elected?" asked Akki, who'd never voted, having up to this time been too young, too female, too rural, and a proclaimed bonder. "It's ... barbaric."

  "Truly," Golden said charmingly, his hand on his heart. "You must trust me in this." But as Henkky had indicated earlier, there was very little to trust about Golden at all.

  25

  AFTER DINNER, Akki didn't stay up long. At Akki's third yawn, Henkky thrust her out of the dining room, where she and Golden were on their fourth cups of takk, topped up with chikkar, "the liquor of the gods," as Golden called it, though which gods he declined to explain.

  "Down the hall, second bedroom," Henkky said. "You'll find your satchel on the bed. There's a shower room attached. See you in the morning." She held up her cup in a mock salute.

  Akki left them gladly. As welcoming as they'd been, they seemed much happier in their own company and not eager for her to stay on with them. Besides, she was furious with them both, and disappointed, too. She disliked being manipulated, and hated even more being told what she had to do. Anger had raged inside her like dragon fire since the beginning of dinner. She thought she would burst apart with it if she had to remain a minute longer. She was surprised it took Henkky three yawns before dismissing her.

  She found the room easily, unpacked, and took a quick shower. As a nursery-bred girl she was always careful about using too much water. Then she scrambled into a nightshirt, which was scrunched by its long day in the satchel, and hung up the two leather outfits.

  There was a scratching at the door, and when she opened it, the hatchling raced into the room, sniffing in all the corners before settling itself on the rug.

  Yawning for real this time, Akki fell onto the bed, an Austarian double, which was one and a half times the size of her bed at the nursery. Although she meant to stay awake and sort through her feelings—as well as her options—sleep grabbed her by the throat and wouldn't let her go until morning.

  ***

  IT WAS the sound of the city rousing that finally woke her up—trucks starting, loud voices laughing, the slapping of boots on the paving. She'd forgotten how different those sounds were from what she was used to at the nursery or in the mountains. There, the first signs of morning were natural sounds—birds, insects, the pippings from the incubarn. For a moment she was unsure of where she was, but then quickly remembered: Golden's house, her own room, this big bed.

  As she lay there stretching, she considered how the day might unroll. She knew the end of it, of course—the debate. But there were many hours to fill till then.

  At her feet, the hatchling stirred, sending her a mental yawn the color of an early morning sky, light blue shot through with yellow.

  "Hello to thee, too, my darling," Akki said aloud. "I'm taking thee out to the garden before we have any accidents. I think Henkky will kill me if thee leaves fewmets on the rug."

  She got out of the bed, stretched again, shucked out of her nightshirt and back into the same leathers she'd worn the day before. Glancing at the two party dresses hanging on a hook near the door, she shook her head. There was no reason to get into either of them, not until it was close to debate time. And hanging in the closet was the other set of leathers, just like the one she had on. No need messing them before she had to. She would take the hatchling to the garden, have a quick breakfast, then check out the basement lab.

  The garden was bathed with the same yellow light as the hatchling's sending. Akki sat down in one of the chairs and watched while the little dragon leaped in and out of the pool, then did her business in a sandy spot behind the pool, almost hidden from sight. When the dragonling was finished, she walked over to Akki and sat down at her side, her neck scarcely long en
ough to allow her to lay her head on Akki's knees.

  Soon Aurea would be twice that size, and then doubled again in another few months. In two years, she'd be ready to breed.

  And dead soon after if the secret got out—as secrets always do. Dead at the hands of Austarians desperate for dragon hearing and dragons' hearts.

  Aurea glanced up at Akki, her eyes small sparks of light.

  "No danger," Akki said out loud, sending her bouncing yellow bubbles.

  Not as long as I find a solution. But she kept that to herself. She meant to make the most of her time here before returning the dragonling to the nursery.

  Time. It was what she feared the most. There was so little time. She put her head in her hands and was on the point of weeping. Things were hard enough, without Jakkin off playing games somewhere.

  "Takk?"

  Akki looked up. Senekka was holding out a tray on which sat a double takk pot, a single teapot, two cups, a lizard-egg omelet, and sweet toast.

  "Tea, please. Thanks. I don't eat anything made from dragons. And you didn't have to..."

  "I wanted to talk to you, anyway," said Senekka, in that low, throbbing voice, "and they won't be up for hours." Putting the tray down on the table, then pouring tea in one cup, takk in the other, she gave the tea to Akki, kept the takk for herself.

  "Talk to me about what?"

  "About the senator."

  "Why me?" Akki said carefully, talking into the cup. "Why not ask him." She looked up.

  "Ah." Senekka smiled and squatted down on her haunches so that she and Akki were about the same height.

  Akki suddenly realized that she was a beautiful girl, her eyes so dark, they were almost black. There was a small black spot by the side of her lower lip, a blood score most likely, from Senekka's time in a nursery. It hadn't ruined her face but somehow enhanced it, making her look both vulnerable and heroic at the same time.

  Senekka pursed her lips before speaking. "You know the senator. He's a politician. He'll tell you what he thinks you want to hear, not what you need to hear."

  "Then ask Dr. Henkky."

  "I don't dare." The voice throbbed even more.

  "Why not?" Akki watched Senekka carefully and saw various answers warring across her face.

  "She's afraid that if I make demands and she can't meet them, I'll leave. And then the senator will want her to do all the cooking and cleaning."

  Akki laughed. It was such a silly answer, it deserved the laugh.

  "She's a doctor." Now Senekka looked down at her cup.

  It was a look Akki recognized. She'd seen it on Henkky's face only the day before. So she said plainly, "You love him."

  Startled, Senekka stared at her, cheeks flushed. Now she began to laugh.

  "What's so funny?"

  "Not him," Senekka whispered. "Oh, God, not him."

  For a moment, Akki couldn't think of a response. Then she whispered back, "You love her?" Such pairings were not unknown to her. There'd always been at least one bonded pair of women at Sarkkhan's Nursery ever since Akki could remember.

  "I won't ever leave unless they send me away. But if the senator loses, he'll have no money in his bag. And they'll make me leave. Will the senator win? Will he?"

  Akki was silent.

  "Will he?" Senekka demanded.

  "I don't know. But I'm sure he has money from elsewhere. You're worrying about the wrong thing. He's not in the senate for the money."

  Senekka looked stunned. "For the power?"

  Akki was silent for a moment. Then she said, "I think he enjoys it. Like a game..."

  Senekka nodded, then taking her own cup and the takk pot away, she left Akki to finish her breakfast alone.

  As Akki sat with the food, her mind was awhirl. She ended up nibbling a bit on the toast, took one bite of the egg, and then abruptly stood.

  "Come," she sent to the hatchling. "Aurea, come." But the dragonling was too busy eating more wort.

  Akki worried that if the little dragon stayed much longer in the garden, there'd be no wort left. A few days' supplies, no more. She wondered if there was some kind of park nearby. When Rokk Major had still stood, dried wort was trucked in for the fighting dragons by the hundredweight. Would it have come from farms in the outlying neighborhood, or large areas of parkland within the city itself? She realized she had no idea.

  But first she had to check the basement lab. Only after that would she think about getting the hatchling home. It was stupid to have brought her here, she scolded herself again. No matter what Henkky and Golden thought, setting up the lab and getting the hatchling home were much more important than any silly debate.

  She left Aurea in the garden and went down the hall, opening doors one by one until she found stairs that led down.

  The basement was far larger than she'd hoped, running the entire length of the house. There were four parts to it: a waiting room, an examination room, a hospice with four beds, and then the lab itself. In addition, to the right of the entrance was a small closed office the size of a huge closet. All three sections had side doors that opened out on to the street, which—Akki realized—must have meant a huge amount of earthmoving when the house had been built. Or when it had been refitted for Dr. Henkky.

  She ignored the waiting room, with its pretty curtained windows and the profusion of books on the side tables. Though when she tried to imagine the Rokk women waiting there, she wondered how many of them could actually read. Most of the nursery bonders were not able to. In fact, the majority of bonders on Austar couldn't, though the masters were all literate.

  The examining room had a steel sink and a well-worn steel table with a leather mat and metal stirrups. A small wooden chair sat next to a table on which pamphlets about women's diseases were prominently displayed. These had plenty of pictures. Again she wondered whether reading skills allowed the patients to get the full benefit of the information, or whether Dr. Henkky explained everything to her visitors and then used the drawings to emphasize what she'd just said.

  But it was the lab to which Akki gave her full attention. She was pleased to see that it was expertly equipped with workbenches, a fume cupboard, a refrigerator, and four discrete storage units. There were flasks, funnels, pipettes, tubes, tongs, clamps, burners, and other equipment that she had no names for, much of it still in the original boxes. She was pleased as well when she spotted several microscopes, three boxed and one out on the wooden counter and already set up.

  She guessed that everything she might need was on display, which was a relief. With the embargo, even if a few hospital ships got through, she might never get to replace anything that broke, so being careful of the equipment would have to be paramount as she did her lab work.

  Lab work. It was a fine concept, but she didn't know where to start. And she couldn't very well ask Henkky. A secret between two of them was dangerous enough without bringing in a third person.

  And of course the doctor would speak to the senator.

  Then, God only knows how many people the senator would bring in on the secret. Soon, instead of a secret, it would be a conspiracy of the kind Golden so dearly loved.

  Suddenly she realized how out of her depth she was. I know how to doctor dragons. In a pinch I can nurse an injured man. She'd had a few years of apprenticing, first to the old vet who worked for the nurseries around her father's place, and then coming to visit doctors in The Rokk, like Henkky. She'd drawn blood, understood a bit about DNA, and could read an X-ray. The vet called her a "bone wizard." If coached, she could interpret the printout of brain waves. But that was not nearly enough.

  I'm smart, she told herself. I can figure out new ways to heal from old knowledge if given a deadline. She sighed. Or enough time.

  But now, seeing the steel and glass lab, she finally had to admit to the truth of it: The dragons of Austar are doomed, and our society with them, if it's only up to me to figure this out.

  Still, she couldn't just give up.

  Quickly she opened every
drawer, every door in the room, finding even more baffling items. Every piece of equipment that was put away was clean, much of it still in the original containers, seemingly unused. Whatever Henkky had outfitted the lab with, she hadn't found time or energy to try much of it yet. Akki spun around, trying to take it all in. On her second time around, she saw Henkky standing in the doorway, smiling.

  "Find everything you need?"

  Akki shrugged. "Actually, I'm not sure. There's so much here—and most of it untouched."

  The doctor nodded. "As soon as Golden heard the rumor that the Federation might place an embargo on us, I decided I had to outfit a state-of-the-art lab."

  "You mean stockpile?"

  Henkky smiled. "You're looking at the original medical hoarder. I have my girls to worry about. I don't know what kind of accidents, diseases, even plagues, might arise in the future. So I've overbought."

  "It looks like a medical store," Akki said.

  Agreeing, Henkky added, "One of the pilots flew in this lot for me—well, for Golden, really. Their mothers were offworld friends." She opened several drawers randomly, fingering the contents, then turned to Akki. "I'm sure we'll find what you need."

  "That's..." Akki hesitated. She put a hand on the one microscope that was out of its box. "That's the problem. I don't know what I need. Except ... except maybe a tutor."

  Folding her arms, Henkky asked, "What field?"

  "Chemistry, I think. I need to understand dragon's blood."

  "Interesting. And—"

  Akki held up her hand. "And that's all I can tell you. Now."

  "That's fine." Henkky looked directly into Akki's eyes. "You'll tell me the rest when you're ready. I wouldn't be much help, anyway. My chemistry courses were too long ago and I was never particularly brilliant in them. Besides, I know women, not dragons."

  "I wasn't thinking that you'd—"

  Henkky held up a finger. "I think I've got just the person for you. And he should be at the debate tonight. He had a stroke some time ago and can't handle things in the lab now. His hands shake too much."

  "Can he still speak?"