Heart's Blood

by Jane Yolen

Henkky laughed, a short snort through her nose, which reminded Akki of a dragon. "Endlessly. I think teaching you might be the saving of him. And now let's get you fitted for the debate." She turned and walked back into the hall.

  Closing the lab door, she followed after Henkky. That went well. But a little voice in her head said: Too easy. It sounded remarkably like the hatchling's cry of "Danger." Probably the chemist wouldn't be at the debate, or too addled to teach her anything. Or I may be like Henkky, not particularly brilliant at chemistry.

  However, one thing she did know. Now she had to go to the debate. Not for Golden, but for the dragons.

  26

  AKKI CHOSE the blue dress, which fit perfectly, possibly because Henkky had been tall as a child. It had short sleeves, a scoop neck, and a tiny pocket that shut with a bow. It was very pretty—for a rich twelve-year-old. A good disguise. No one would expect a seventeen-year-old bond girl to dress that way. The shoes were more sophisticated than she was used to, with a small heel. Having worn nothing but low shoes all her life, she wondered if she would last the evening so shod.

  Golden and Henkky were even more dressed up. And Senekka was astonishingly beautiful in a dress the color of the little Beauty dragon: a sunny yellow, with a band of red around the waist.

  They were all picked up by a senate car for the short ride to the hall. The driver was a small, dark, bald man with a gap in the middle of his smile. He came to the house and knocked on the door. Golden opened the door, his tie not yet knotted.

  "Senator," the driver said, "everyone here?"

  "Dikkon, as ever, you're on time."

  "Senator, as ever, you're not on time." He flashed his gap-toothed smile.

  Once they were seated in the car, Golden said, "With the embargo full on, one of the first things I'll do when re-elected—"

  "If you are reelected," Henkky reminded him.

  "You're supposed to be the one with the sunny disposition," he said sourly.

  "Who told you that?"

  "I'm the one with the sunny disposition, Senator," Dikkon called from the front.

  Golden laughed. "You're the one who's supposed to be quiet and not listen in on conversations in the car."

  "Who told you that?"

  Sitting next to Akki, Senekka shook with silent laughter at the exchange, which made Akki bounce a bit.

  "Danger?" The sending was gray, tremulous.

  "Don't be silly," Akki sent back. "Nothing dangerous about a laugh." She enclosed the gray sending with a yellow border that slowly squeezed the gray into a single line that shot away like an arrow and was gone.

  "If and when I'm reelected," Golden went on, oblivious to the laughter, the dragon's reaction, and Akki's response, "the first thing I shall do is to get rid of the senate cars. Goodness knows when we'll have the fuel to drive them again. It was all supplied by the Feders. I don't know why we don't walk. Protection, I suppose."

  "Protection from what?" Akki was suddenly on alert.

  Golden refused to answer.

  "Senator, you get rid of the cars, you gotta do something for the drivers. We're voters now, too, you know," Dikkon said from the front seat.

  Golden shook his head. "I know, I know. Voters and eavesdroppers the lot of you!"

  Dikkon chuckled.

  "Furthermore," Golden said to him, "all life is a series of compromises, and some have to compromise the most. I will have to walk and you, my friend—"

  "I have to eat, Senator. I have to feed my family."

  "He makes a strong point," Golden said, his finger waggling at Dikkon.

  Henkky patted his hand. "You said 'one of the first' and then 'the first.' Which one is it to be?"

  "Fewmets, woman!" he roared, which made the dragon go all quivery again. It took Akki a full minute to quiet her.

  And why did I bring you? She knew she'd done it as much for her own comfort as the dragon's. She didn't want to have to worry about what the hatchling was doing to the house in her absence. Or the garden. And of course the little creature hated to have Akki out of sending range for very long.

  Henkky smiled and patted Golden's hand again. "Just doing my job."

  "I know, I know." He hung his head in mock contrition. "Which should I say?"

  "One of," Henkky said.

  "One of," Akki agreed.

  "One of," Dikkon called from the front seat. "Makes me want to vote for you."

  "One of," Senekka said, "because it gives you the ability to do it all at once or later."

  "She means I have latitude! I like the way this girl thinks. If she weren't such a good cook, I'd make her an adviser."

  "Over my dead body," Henkky said, and winked at Senekka. "Trust me, I need her more than you do."

  Even in the shadowy inside of the car, even in Senekka's dark cheek, Akki could see she was blushing.

  Golden raised his voice. "As for you, Dikkon, I'd hoped you were going to vote for me, anyway. Because of my happy disposition."

  "And your good tips," Dikkon replied. He pulled the car over to the curb, then got out. He opened the door and when Golden got out said, "Take the car away and make me an adviser, Senator, and I'll always tell you the truth. Not like them, their hands always out for something." His chin jutted toward the crowd already gathered in front of the auditorium.

  "Even if I don't want to hear the truth, Dikkon?" Golden gave him his broadest grin.

  "Especially then," Dikkon said, closing the car door.

  "You're on, my friend," Golden said to him. "Now, ladies..." He gathered them around him and steered them toward the building.

  A buzz of well-dressed men and a few women in long skirts stood outside the hall. Several of them were smoking, hazy clouds curling above their heads. Akki wondered if they were smoking wort or the last of the offworld tobac.

  A fat man came over to them. "Senator Golden, I presume?" His jowls quivered as he spoke.

  "Senator MacMaster, without presumption," Golden replied, nodding at the man. "Are the other debaters here?"

  "You're the last to arrive. But—" MacMaster struck his chest with the flat of his hand. "But first in our hearts." He laughed. "If you win." He laughed again, a low gulping sound. "Why so late?"

  "Women, you know," Golden said, gesturing to Henkky and the girls. "Takes a long time to get them dressed."

  "Only if you do it single-handedly." The fat man laughed so hard at his own joke, his jowls bounced. He walked them toward the door, a hand on Golden's elbow. Henkky was right behind them, nodding confidently at the smokers.

  "Maybe the first thing Golden should do is change the way he speaks about women," Akki muttered.

  Henkky turned and shook her head. "That's not what Golden thinks," she said. "Don't mistake him. It's only a game he plays with the other senators, who are, at heart, afraid of us women and our power." Then she and Golden disappeared into the crowd.

  Boys and their games. Akki smiled ruefully. But oh! How I wish Jakkin was here right now.

  The hatchling's response thrummed against her arm.

  The hall was packed, and Senekka pushed people aside, pulling Akki after her. As Akki threaded her way through the crowd, the hatchling snuggled into her armpit, tail around her upper arm.

  "Either thou has gained weight overnight, or this is an awfully awkward way of carrying thee," Akki whispered to the little dragon. Pressing even closer, the hatchling thrummed some more, just from the sound of Akki's voice.

  "Over here!" called Henkky, waving her arm. She was standing in the front row. An elderly gray-faced man stood by her, leaning on a carved wooden cane.

  As Akki and Senekka waded through the people to get to Henkky, they were jostled and spun about. At one point, Akki slipped and Senekka grabbed her arm to help, which shook the hatchling loose till she dangled by just her tail. Akki gathered her up quickly, wrapping her arms around the terrified dragon. Gone was the happy thrumming. Now Aurea sent wave after wave of grayness. In fact, she was so terrified, she didn't even have the energ
y to send any color at all other than gray. Akki held her close, willing her to calm down.

  "Argent, Senekka, this is my old friend Dr. George Smithers. Formerly of Tenebrum in the Federation. A chemist by training. A teacher by preference." She winked at Akki.

  It was very noisy in the hall and Akki had to strain to hear. For a moment, she'd forgotten she was supposed to be Argent. Then she remembered and nodded, holding out her hand to the old man.

  "Alas, girls, no longer either chemist or teacher," he said. His face was long, the chin dropping to his chest, as if it and the rest of his body had recently succumbed to gravity. Yet even old, even ill, his voice was strong, probably from years of lecturing to a class. He took Akki's hand.

  "But surely your brain hasn't retired, sir," Akki said loudly, giving him her pretty smile.

  Henkky's laughter rang out. "She's Golden's niece and goddaughter, the student I told you about. Argent. Silver to Golden's gold."

  So now I'm both. Akki smiled inwardly. That's a smart move on Henkky's part. None of us can make a mistake that way.

  "Ah," Dr. Smithers said, "the dragon's blood girl. Well, she has her uncle's gift of the silver tongue indeed."

  Henkky put a hand on his shoulder as he let loose of Akki's hand, turning him slightly and speaking right into his ear, for he was, it seemed, somewhat deaf. "And this is Senekka, the girl I cannot do without."

  Once again blushing, Senekka took the old man's hand. "Just the cook and house girl, sir."

  "Chef. And my right hand," Henkky amended.

  Just then the four men running for the senate seat ambled across the stage and sat down in four straight-backed chairs behind the debate table. Immediately, the buzz in the hall quieted and everyone quickly found a seat.

  Akki shifted the dragon to her lap, stroking Aurea's scaly head till she settled down. Till they both settled down. Then Akki began to study the men.

  Golden had come in first and sat on the far right. He looked totally relaxed, even leaning his elbows on the table and waving at friends. Next to him was a short man with thinning red hair, who seemed ill-at-ease being stared at by so many people. Next was a tall, narrow-bodied, bronzecolored man, his nose long and thin as well. He exercised his fingers while waiting for the debate to start. His fingers were long and thin, too. Akki wondered if his voice would be like that, a long string of a voice. The fourth man seemed pleasant enough, well tanned and smiling. His hair and eyebrows were so blond, they were almost white. There were patches of color on his cheeks, as if he'd painted them on, but when he folded his hands in his lap and closed his eyes for a moment, the patches faded, so Akki knew they were real.

  A fifth man walked across the stage, taking his place behind a raised podium to the right of the table. He was the jowly fat man who'd whisked Golden out of the car. As he strode along, Akki was amazed that he practically danced, his movements giving the lie to the fact of his weight. He reminded her of Sssargon coming down to earth, all that poundage floating easily through the air.

  "Dragons here?" The sending was full of caricatures of different-colored dragons, some walking, some flying, some settling down.

  "Only thee," Akki sent back, focusing on the smallest of the dragons in her sending. "Only thee?"

  "Good evening," the fat man said to the crowd. "You all know me. Or if you don't, you soon will. I'm Master MacMaster that was, though only plain Mac these days. But still a master ... of ceremonies."

  A polite laugh ran around the room, and the hatchling shivered with the sound of it.

  "So, as I'm in charge here, the boys beside me have to follow my instructions or off they go."

  Boys! Akki snorted, and so did the hatchling, though it came out more of a sneeze.

  Jowls waggling, Mac continued. "We will hear from them in order of reverse seniority—that means from young to old to you illiterates out there."

  There was a smattering of hisses from the audience, and one voice cried out, "The only thing you've read, Mac, are the instructions on cookie tins!" He received a round of light applause.

  Henkky leaned over and, wrinkling her nose, said to Akki, "This is why I rarely attend these meetings." She petted the hatchling on the head, then sat back up and whispered something to Dr. Smithers, who coughed—or perhaps laughed—into a gray handkerchief.

  Grinning, Mac held up his meaty hand for silence, and the room swiftly returned to normal. "At least I can read, Elric. So as my great-great-grandma would say, 'Shut yer cakehole.' And she had the fist to make it so." He formed a fist and shook it at the audience.

  This time the applause was fierce.

  Mac waited till the clapping died down, then said, "So Anders Sigel, there, goes first, being the baby of the group and the most nervous. Though God knows why, since he's run for the senate before." He pointed to the short man.

  "Then Run-on Macdonald will speak. Those of you who have followed politics will remember that he was a senator in his youth." That was the thin man.

  From the audience someone shouted, "And a long time ago that was!"

  His comment was greeted by cheers.

  Mac let them settle down again, before going on. "Not that long ago." He pointed to the white-blond man. "Then our newcomer to politics, Jay Dark." Dark's cheeks were once again patched with red. Akki wondered if Dark's name had recently ended in two ks, which would explain why he was a newcomer to the senate race.

  Mac extended his entire arm this time. "And the last speaker will be our current senator, the once and future king, Senator Durrah Golden."

  There was an appreciative laugh.

  "After their opening remarks—of no more than ten minutes, as I must now remind you—the free-for-all will begin. Responses, rebuttals, recantings, refusals, regurgitations, rejections, remonstrations, retributions, and any other rewinds you would like."

  "How about reformations?" someone called.

  Giving a jowly smile, Mac said, "That, too, my friend. And ladies, those brave enough to be here, there will likely be cursing as well, I have no doubt of it." He waggled a finger at them. "So be prepared. There's two f words here to remember: We've got no fainting in politics but plenty of fewmets." He paused for the laugh he knew would come.

  "But remember..." Mac pointed to a side window, where the sky was a dark blue slate on which nothing had been written. Yet. "The free-for-all runs only for an hour. Unless you want to freeze your cohoes in Dark-After. Or stay here and sleep on the floor. Me, I'll have a glass of the senate's chikkar after the debate and then get home and tucked in with my missus before the second moon is glimpsed by any of you still-not-persuaded voters."

  He turned to the panel. "Sig, you're on. I have a wristwatch, a souvenir of Old Earth, that lets me know the time. And if you go over, I'll signal like this." He put two of his huge fingers into his mouth and let out a piercing whistle.

  Akki smiled. There's no way that nervous man will go over his time.

  She was right.

  Mac moved back behind the panel and changed places with Sig, who stood up almost reluctantly and walked to the podium dragging his feet. Once there, he put a hand on each side and held on so fiercely, his fingers went nearly white. When he began speaking, it was so quiet, Akki had to lean forward, as did Henkky, and they were sitting in the front row.

  In his passionless way, Sig spoke about Austar IV, how it ran hot and cold, so hot the sands could burn you and so cold the moons could freeze you, but that just made the Austarians all the stronger. He said they had a chance to win back their place as a Protectorate, even a member of the Federation, if they just kept their heads down and worked hard. "As I mean to do as your senator if you elect me," he said. And that—it seemed—was the end of his speech.

  There was a smattering of applause, mostly from the men in the front rows who could actually hear him. But when Akki turned around to glare at the people in the back, they were lolling in their chairs or whispering to their neighbors. A few were exchanging coins as if they'd laid bets on Sig's p
erformance. She doubted they'd heard a word he said.

  And then Sig walked back to the table, watching his feet as he went. He exchanged places with the thin man who, once standing, moved as if none of his parts were actually connected except, perhaps, by strings, like a puppet. Unlike Sig, he disdained putting his hands on the podium but stood quite still. When he spoke, his voice could easily reach the back rows, though it never seemed as if he was using any special effort.

  "Well, at least we can hear him," Akki whispered.

  "That was his one trick as a senator," Henkky whispered back. "He could be heard anywhere. Unfortunately."

  "Why unfortunately?"

  "He'd nothing much to say and said it a lot." Henkky leaned back against her seat, her hands clasped in her lap. "That's why they call him Run-on."

  Akki stifled a giggle, then passed that tidbit on to Senekka, who laughed as well.

  Henkky's assessment proved true. Run-on had nothing much to say and he spoke endlessly. It was all stuff every Austarian already knew—that Austar was the fourth planet of a seven-planet rim system in the Erato Galaxy. That it had once been a penal colony marked KK29 on the convict map system. That it was metal poor and covered by vast deserts, and that there were five major rivers.

  At that point, the back rows exploded in a chant with the names of the rivers: "Narrakka, Brokk-bend, Left Forkk, Rokk, and Kkarrrrrrrr." They rolled out the final r, and then the chant began again, continuing for well over a minute.

  Run-on turned and gestured to Mac with his right hand. "Mr. Master of Ceremonies, I claim back a minute of my time because of that danged chant."

  Mac nodded and waved him on, seemingly indifferent to the crowd's preferences.

  Then Run-on spoke about the desert plants, the spikka trees, about burnwort and blisterweed.

  At that, the back rows erupted again, with shouts of "Wort! Weed!" They mimed smoking and falling about with silent laughter.

  Run-on continued speaking over them. "But what we are best known for," he said, his voice rising dramatically, "are our dragons." He raised his hand to make the point, though the dramatic gesture was undercut by the fact that his hand was shaking as if on the end of that invisible string.