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(Worldbreaker Saga 3) The Broken Heavens
|
Kameron Hurley
|
[
"fantasy",
"LGBT",
"science fiction fantasy"
] |
[] |
Chapter 49
|
Lilia did not know where or when she lost the little container of Hasao's blood, but she knew the moment she realized the little vial was missing from her tunic pocket. Blood was the key to everything, and it was missing.
She stepped through the wink and into the Assembly Chamber just behind Zezili. Distracted, Lilia squeezed at her pockets even as the others leapt off the table and assembled quickly around it. Kadaan had a wall of air up to shield them; Lilia knew they only had a few precious seconds before someone sensed them here.
"What are you grabbing at?" Zezili asked, helping her down from the table and keeping hold of her hand as they got into place.
"I had… a small jar of blood here, in my pocket."
"Oh," Zezili said, "yes, I ate that. It was terrible, not as good as fresh, but I did feel better."
"You… what?"
"When you came back to bed. I could smell it."
"Step forward!" Roh called.
Lilia and Zezili stepped forward with the others. Lilia pressed her feet to the circle. "This isn't good," Lilia said.
Maralah said, "Ready Songs of Unmaking. I want any jista in there immediately cut off."
"What's a little old blood, between colleagues?" Zezili said to Lilia.
"No, no, no," Lilia said. She squeezed Zezili's hand. "We can only do this once, now. We can't–"
A cry came from the other side of the room, a familiar one.
"Stop! What are you–"
They began to sink through the floor. Lilia's ears popped as Kadaan dropped his shield. She was aware of someone running up behind her, from the direction of the Kai's old study, but she dared not look back, dared not because she feared it might be Gian and this was all going to go wrong again.
A hand gripped Lilia's collar, yanking her head back.
Lilia had just enough time to realize it was Yisaoh holding her tight, falling in after them, before the light winked out.
Lilia struck the cold, wet floor just as hard the second time as the first. She clawed her way up, hands slick against the tongue-like surface. It was not dark this time, and not empty. Far from it.
The air fairly sparked with power. Her head swam; her vision was dazzled by the blazing lights. All of the jista pedestals were filled, their jistas captured in the twists of power. Beside Lilia, Yisaoh lay on her side, coughing and wheezing.
Kadaan, Maralah and Taigan were already up.
"Songs of Unmaking!" Maralah called, but it was already done. Lilia knew because the two winks leading outside the room went out.
"Luna!" Lilia called.
Luna scrambled after her as she began limping to the great dais at the center of it all.
The figure at the top of the dais flew off and fell into the water below. Lilia had a feeling it was Kirana. Who else would be arrogant enough to get up there? Just Kirana. And Lilia.
"Zezili!" Lilia said. "Watch that woman in the water, but don't kill her! Just make sure she doesn't come after me."
And there was Gian, gaping, surrounded by powerless jistas, all cut off from their stars. Her people raised their weapons.
"Don't! Wait!" Kirana splashed over to them, arms raised, staring at something behind Lilia and Luna.
Lilia turned and saw what Kirana did: Yisaoh, getting to her feet beside them. She looked dazed. This wasn't Lilia's Yisaoh. She could see that immediately. The hair was too short, and she was too thin. Kirana's Yisaoh. Somehow Kirana had gotten her Yisaoh through.
Ahkio, Lilia thought. That traitor.
"Zezili!" Lilia called. "Grab that woman! Grab Yisaoh!"
Zezili came back around and took Yisaoh's arm. Yisaoh punched her; Zezili's face came away grinning and bloody. She twisted Yisaoh's arm behind her, forcing her over. Yisaoh cried out.
"Let her alone!" Kirana said. "Please. You aren't here for her. She's nothing. You're here for me, aren't you?"
The old anger rose in Lilia, the rage that had made her snap this woman's back. Lilia grit her teeth. "Step away from the dais," Lilia said. "Keep your hands above your head. I know you have a weapon there in your wrist. Don't come near me or Zezili will murder Yisaoh, your Yisaoh. Because you already murdered ours, didn't you?"
"It's the way it is," Kirana said. "Every cycle, the worlds come together to murder each other. And the cycle will keep going on, Lilia, you and me and those who come after us, again and again, cycle after cycle. In some other world, you did the same as I did."
Lilia shivered, because Kirana was right, wasn't she? I was the monster, Lilia thought, remembering the terrible influx of golden women with green eyes.
"Get up there, Lilia!" Roh called. "Taigan?"
"This is ridiculous," Taigan said. "I'd prefer to burn them all where they stand."
"Don't you dare!" Lilia shouted. She pointed to the great white cage where he needed to be. "You wanted to break the world, Taigan, or maybe save it? It's time."
"Oh, there's, ahh…" the little Tai Mora man near the webbing began. His companion hushed him. Lilia noted the splattering of flesh and viscera all around them. How many people had they tried to feed to it?
Lilia needed to get to the top. "Roh!" she called. "Can you get me up?"
A gentle wind enveloped her and took her to the top of the pedestal, far more softly this time. Perhaps Roh was not as frazzled. And he had Kadaan and Anavha and Maralah with him this time; the other pedestals were already powered by Gian and Kirana's people.
Lilia gazed down at Gian as Taigan climbed into his niche. Lilia's shadow loomed over the cavern as the brilliant white light enveloped Taigan behind her. Lilia's feet and fingers tingled. This time, she stared at the floor beneath her, and saw the symbol: the trefoil with the tail. The missing piece?
"Luna!" Lilia said. "A missing piece. What do you know about a missing piece?"
"What?" Luna cried, splashing in the water below.
Lilia raised her arm and stared at her wrist where her mother had warded that symbol into her flesh. What if she chose to just flood this whole temple, and end them all? How could they live beside these people? How could they possibly make a future together? When her ancestors broke the world, they had left their descendants to put it back together. Lilia resented them all, resented their arrogance and hubris. Lilia hated those old dusty jistas who had made the temples, but she hated the future more. Why did the choice come down to her, the choice to continue some terrible cycle or break it? All on…
"Can you do it?" Luna called.
Lilia shook herself out of her dark thoughts. Not all on her. She had believed it was all her choices that led them here, but that, too, was arrogant. As arrogant as her ancestors had been. Luna chose to be here. Taigan, even. And Anavha! That poor boy should have stayed on the farm, what was he thinking? Roh, dear Roh, who had traveled so long and so far, fuelled on what? On hope. Hope that they could get here. That they could change something, instead of just continuing the same cycle over and over again.
Many worlds, Lilia thought. A multitude of choices. She was thinking narrowly, without understanding the rules of the machine. They were all mucking about in this big thing, trying to make it work, trying to save themselves.
"Luna!" she said. "Do we have to break the world?"
"What do you mean?"
Lilia could feel the power beckoning to her to open herself to it, calling, calling… She closed her eyes. Clenched her fists. "It's called the Worldbreaker, the book, and… the person up here. But do we have to break the world? Can't we… couldn't we… put it back together?"
"I… don't know!" Luna said. "There are… There are trillions of worlds here, Lilia, too many choices. I… yes, you can! I took those pages out of the book! The instructions! I'm sorry! I don't remember them."
"You think you can live next to these people?" Zezili said, twisting at Yisaoh's arm again. Yisaoh fell to her knees. "Send them all fucking back. Murder every last one of them. You can't build a future next to fucking murderous–"
"Like you?" Lilia said. "We can't go back to what we were. We can't keep doing this over and over again."
Zezili snarled at her. "I don't have any interest in getting out of here alive either. You're the one who called on me, remember? Because you needed a fucking brute. Don't pretend your hands are ever going to be clean. You're as bad as I am, and you know it."
Lilia straightened.
Roh yelled something. A wink was opening on the other side of the room: Kirana's people, most likely, trying to re-establish a connection here. The room groaned and trembled beneath her.
Lilia closed her eyes and opened herself to the power of the satellites.
The warm burst of power channeled through her; the orrery popped into existence, a dizzying array of orbs. So many choices…
"You're right," Lilia said to Zezili. She held out her arm to Zezili. "We are alike. We'll do this together."
"What?"
"Roh, send her up here!"
Zezili yelled as a wave of air twisted her away from Yisaoh and propelled her to the top of the pedestal. She landed next to Lilia and grabbed at Lilia for balance, nearly going over again.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Zezili said.
"I don't need the instructions," Lilia said. "My mother gave them to me, and Kalinda."
"What?"
Lilia pressed at Zezili's upper belly. Zezili hissed and clutched at where the symbol lay twisted within her flesh.
"It's broken," Lilia said. "Like the worlds. Like us. We have to put it back together."
Zezili followed Lilia's gaze to the symbol in the floor, the one that neatly mirrored the one in her flesh. "Oh, fuck," Zezili said, "fuck."
"If I try and put people back where they don't belong," Lilia said, "the game ends. Just like the game of spheres. Who knows why? Maybe it's not allowed. Maybe it destroys worlds. Annihilates universes. You put the Tai Mora back, and who are we? We are them. And it's true, what Saradyn said. You are from this world. I'm not. I need you to help me do this."
Zezili grimaced.
The spheres continued spinning, their lacey orbits whipping out behind them like tails of smoke. Could she stand here forever, just waiting? No, no. If she closed her eyes and listened, she could hear Roh and Kadaan yelling as their defenses began to give way, just like the last time.
Below her, Yisaoh was free, running across the great room to Kirana's arms. If Lilia killed Kirana she would summon a future far worse than this one.
Zezili pulled off her tunic. The silvery symbol beneath her flesh glowed faintly blue. "This is going to hurt," Zezili said.
She pulled a knife from her side and jabbed it into her belly, working it around the piece stuck in her flesh.
Lilia felt an echo of the pain, a deep ache that helped her focus. She reached for the little green orb nearest her. It was real in her hand. It barely had weight at all, much like having a bird land on one's palm: all softness and air, brittle bones, no mass. Such a small thing to hold, this ball that represented not only her own life, but the lives of all the Tai Mora and their allies, all at her mercy now, after so long. She didn't know why that occurred to her, why it was this world, this small green orb, that felt so much like her home.
Her eyes filled with tears, as Zezili tore the piece of the temple from her flesh and held it in her hand.
Lilia remembered her mother. Her mother cut down by Kirana's weapon. And her mother, again, fused with the mirror that was to bridge their worlds before Oma's rise. Her mother had safeguarded her and protected her, tossed her into some other world so that she had the chance to live. She had done what Kirana had done; they were motivated by the same things, weren't they? They loved their families. They wanted to live. It was the determination of every creature: those two things. To survive, to reproduce. Who was to say she would have done any differently, in Kirana's place? She had been selfish, arrogant, since the worlds began to come together, and she had nearly destroyed everything.
And isn't that where she sat now, the power of life or death in her own hands? The terrible choice, to let them live here alongside the Dhai they murdered and enslaved or to cast them out to their dead world where they would all be consumed by fire? Two choices. The Dhai choice was to let them stay, to survive, but what then? Hope that they could live beside their oppressors? Those who murdered their kin? That was worse than death. The Dhai, her Dhai, did not deserve that. But the other choice was to be a Tai Mora, to do the very worst thing. The genocide of an entire race.
Two choices, two choices.
Shouting, close. Roh's voice. "Hold them! Hold them!" The clash of weapons. More voices. She could not go back and do this again, not now. There was no way out, no way to buy more time.
She had to make her choice.
"Lilia?" Zezili said. "You hear me? Take it! Take the fucking thing!" She held the bloody trefoil with the tail in her hand. Her blood dripped on the dais beneath them.
Don't become them, Emlee had said. Lilia closed her eyes and saw the little girl cut in two by the seam Lilia had ordered drawn in the world. The dead she left in Tira's Temple. She had done terrible things. She deserved this death, to cast herself and the people she had come from back to their rotting husk of a world. She had done all of this, everything, seeking this end. There was never any way back. She had pushed on, committing greater horrors, becoming all that she was fighting, so she could end it here.
She opened his eyes. Took a deep breath. Infinite worlds purled out ahead of her, casting up and up; when she looked down, they spread low and long beneath her, too.
She hefted the green sphere that was her life, the Tai Mora lives, and in her other hand she made a motion, like grasping for a hanging branch, and the whole map pivoted, rushed forward. If the Aaldian game of spheres was any indication, she had only one chance at this. If she chose poorly, it wasn't just she who would die, but also everyone here. Roh and Anavha, Maralah and Kadaan, and Gian, whom she loved despite knowing it was a stupid compulsion.
There were infinite worlds, and infinite choices. She had only to let herself see them.
One choice. Choose, Li.
Li.
Light.
"Lilia!" Zezili yelled. "Ah, fuck!" She slipped on her blood, nearly toppling from the pedestal.
Lilia was rooted in place, transfixed by the orrery. There, curled at the center of a whirl of spheres, was a softly winking white world. White, like the martyr Faith Ahya.
Choose.
"Where will we go?" she murmured. Would the Tai Mora murder people there as they had here? Would there be any people at all? Who was she, to further break them apart? Divide them? Division had created this terrible cycle in the first place.
They had been arguing all this time about whose was the right face, about which body belonged where. But they were all the same people, weren't they? Broken apart by their foolhardy ancestors, using power they didn't understand. They were all the same bodies, the same people. Just different choices.
The realization made her lose her breath. They had broken it all apart. Someone needed to put it back together.
They were nothing without each other.
"Fly, fly, little bird," she murmured. She released the green sphere and let it float back into its orbit.
She slid to knees, painfully, and took the trefoil with the tail from Zezili's slick hands. Lilia pressed the missing piece into the base of the pedestal. The light all around them intensified. Zezili screamed. A great wave of power took Lilia into its embrace, lifting her from the pedestal as if she weighed nothing. For one glorious moment, she felt light as air itself, without pain, without doubt.
Suffused in the power of the combined satellites, an infinite number of endings and beginnings before her, every choice imaginable, she brought up her left hand in a long sweeping motion. The billions of worlds drew closer to her, skipping from their paths to collect around her in a great whirling mass. The light intensified again, sparking and hissing. One more move on the board, the last move.
Worldbreaker, or Worldshaper?
Lilia swept her right arm out and brought it toward her. The infinite worlds, infinite stars, infinite possibilities, collided.
And she reset the game.
|
(Worldbreaker Saga 3) The Broken Heavens
|
Kameron Hurley
|
[
"fantasy",
"LGBT",
"science fiction fantasy"
] |
[] |
Chapter 50
|
Roh saw her move the orrery: a long sweep of stars. No one else was watching. Kirana's reinforcements broke his defensive wall so forcefully he lost his grasp on Para. The room seethed and buckled, tilting wildly beneath their feet as the temple slid off the sand bar and deeper into the sea. Water rushed in from massive cracks in the walls. Roared from the ceiling. They were going to drown in here.
"Lilia, don't!" Roh lurched toward her. She was going to murder the Tai Mora, murder herself.
Lilia held the green piece aloft, and glanced over her shoulder. For the rest of his life, he would think about the expression he saw in her face: fear, triumph, resolution, defeat… All of them, and none.
"Li!" He reached for her, fingers grasping, trying to make it across the distance as fast as his legs would carry him, breaking apart the misty worlds, his skin bathed in pinpricks of light.
Li.
Light.
Zezili hung from the platform, screaming. The light suffusing the pedestal became nearly blinding. Lilia was lifted high in the air, hair streaming behind her.
She released the sphere back into its orbit, and swung her left arm around, drawing all the smaller orbs up into a whirling mass above her head. The ground trembled beneath them. She stumbled, but did not fall. Raised her right hand, and pulled the larger set of spheres from their orbits as well.
The misty worlds all collided above her.
Light.
Roh covered his eyes. The light was so powerful it overwhelmed. It pierced his consciousness even through his closed lids. Pierced him to the bone, like a physical force. But there was no boom. No rush. Just blazing light.
Then… darkness. Water rushing up below him, carrying him. Saradyn shouting, grabbing for him. Roh called to Kadaan, trying to draw on Para, finding… nothing.
Roh opened his eyes, but the light had been so intense that he was still blind. He blinked, reaching, swimming back toward the dais where Lilia had stood. His fingers met the lip of the dais, and as his vision returned, his sight confirmed what his fingers discovered – Lilia was no longer there.
The great beast of the temple was tilting, tilting, collapsing under its own weight, sliding off the sandbar and back into the ocean whence it came.
He swept his gaze across the room, now dim and dull, lit only by a ring of blue and green phosphorescence along the ceiling, the orrery only a brilliant memory. Others bobbed and gasped in the water all around him. Light pierced his vision again, light and pain in his head.
He gasped. The sea rushed in from the crumbling wall, pushing him and the others across the cavern. Roh bobbed and splashed, forced against the far wall, which gave under the pressure.
He was sucked out of the chamber and into the sea. Heaving, desperate, he tried to swim, but he was dizzy and overwhelmed. He vomited. His mind became clouded. Memories. Vertigo. Flashes of something, light – memory:
He was a farmer in a field, married to Kihin. He nursed his mother Naori through the yellow pox. He died in Saiduan, cut through by Kadaan and torn apart by bears. He and Luna ran off together across the tundra and lived to be old people, settled alone along the far northern sea. His father barred him from going to Saiduan, and instead he died next to Kai Ahkio, fighting shadows in a clan square while the world burned around them.
Split apart, he thought. They split us all apart.
Lilia hadn't murdered them.
Lilia had pulled them all back together.
Every single one of them.
Roh tried to reach for Para – and found… nothing. Panic seized his heart. Para! He reached again, but could not even sense his star. Had it winked back out of existence? Was it descendant again? Who had an ascendant star?
He was going to drown.
Strong arms around him, moving him up, up, up. His lungs were near to bursting.
I'm going to die, he thought. What a time to die.
|
(Worldbreaker Saga 3) The Broken Heavens
|
Kameron Hurley
|
[
"fantasy",
"LGBT",
"science fiction fantasy"
] |
[] |
Chapter 51
|
Kirana splashed through the rising waters, screaming. That was how she became aware of herself. Cold, screaming. The taste of salt. A rush of memories overcame her, tangling in her mind like hopelessly knotted nets.
She was cutting down a woman called Nava Sona. Murdering her coldly. Marrying her. She was a cobbler, like her mother, drowned early in the toxic rain that fell from the sky. Her brother was pulling her from a burning building, poor little Ahkio, his hands, his hands… poor Ahkio, whom she loved, whom she had to protect, because Oma was coming and he would not be prepared. He was too fragile for this world. She loved her country. She hated her country. She had no country, a refugee from some other lost star, stumbling into this world during the last two years of Oma's rise.
She was all of these things, and more, an infinite number of selves, of memories, of choices, all colliding painfully, overwhelmingly.
The water filled the room, pushing her toward the far side of the cavern. People were missing – far more than could have been lost already. Zezili was gone, but there, there! Yisaoh!
Kirana reached for her. Took her by the arm as she whirled past.
"Yisaoh!" Kirana cried, and embraced her, but Yisaoh pulled away, her eyes so very black, gazing at her as if she were a stranger.
"No, no," Kirana said.
Yisaoh punched her in the face.
Kirana reeled back in the water, nose burst, bloody. The sea rushed in and pushed her under and out through the back wall of the great structure.
She screamed under water, bubbles rising all around her. Kicking, up, up, what about her children? Would they know her for what she was? Who would they be? Which version? No, no, she knew who she was, didn't she?
Poor Ahkio, too soft, and her mother, too soft, and Nasaka, always scheming. Nasaka…
No, I am not that woman! Kirana wanted to cry, but there was only the ocean around her, the sea. She flailed, bumping into a bit of detritus: a bit of wood already rising to the surface.
She came up out of the water and gasped. Spit, choking on seawater. She splashed all around. There were others not far away, heading toward the sandbar. Her mind seethed with memories, hers and others, so many others. I murdered my brother. I murdered my country. I destroyed everything and everyone that mattered to me.
"No!" Kirana screamed. "I'm not… I did this… I'm not that woman. I'm not a fucking monster, I'm not…"
Another wave of memories overcame her. She lost her grip on the piece of wood, and splashed further away from the sandbar. She would go back, start over, go to Saiduan, where she had been queen, where she had married the Patron, where her children became gods…
What life? In what world? In the memory of the worlds, of all her desperate choices: choices that she could no longer flee from.
|
(Worldbreaker Saga 3) The Broken Heavens
|
Kameron Hurley
|
[
"fantasy",
"LGBT",
"science fiction fantasy"
] |
[] |
Chapter 52
|
Roh burst through the surface of the water, paddling madly. Waves rocked softly against a sandbar nearby, and he made for it as quickly as he could, terrified that the dissolution of the temple would pull him back under.
"Roh! Roh!" Luna, just behind him, splashing. "I can't! Roh!"
He took hold of Luna, slipping an arm under hirs. "Kick!" he said. "The sandbar! Saradyn, help Luna too!"
They gasped and splashed their way to the sandy rise. Roh vomited saltwater. Luna burst into tears. Roh did not ask what hodgepodge of memories Luna was struggling with. He could barely cope with his own.
The body of a woman, face down, floated nearby, and Saradyn splashed out to haul her in. It was Yisaoh. He pushed her over and smacked at her back. She coughed and heaved. Blinked up at him.
"Roh?" she said.
"You know me?"
"Many of… a lot of me does. Does that… I can't…"
"She brought us back together," Roh said. "It's… I can't describe it either."
"I've done terrible things," Yisaoh said. "So many terrible things."
"Who…" he hesitated. Why ask her which or who she was? She was all of them, wasn't she? Their Yisaoh, the one who had caught him on the stairs, and Kirana's Yisaoh, and more besides. All and none.
More stragglers made it to the sandbar, many weeping, some hollow-eyed and unresponsive, too shocked to speak, all stunned by whatever lives were warring for dominance in their heads.
Kadaan and Maralah came up onto the beach, dragging Anavha with them. Anavha was crying, calling for Zezili and Natanial.
"Has anyone seen Taigan?" Maralah asked.
"No," Roh said. "Lilia?"
Maralah shook her head.
Saradyn pointed.
Roh turned, hoping to see Lilia, but it was Taigan, sloshing onto the sandbank, one hand pressed against his head. His beard was gone, and a great deal of his hair, burned or yanked out, Roh could not tell.
"That was memorable," Taigan said. He pulled his hand away from his head.
"Taigan?" Roh said. "You're… bleeding."
Taigan stared at the watery red tail of blood snaking down his hand. "I… indeed I am. Oh, that is interesting." He brought up his hands and marveled at the fine cuts and scratches, which still marred his hands, bright and bleeding. "I may even have some bruises!" he cried. He squeezed a bit more blood from the wound on his hand, inspecting it with wonder. "Look at that. It's not healing! How extraordinary." He furrowed his brows. "Wait, how long should this last?"
"For normal people?" Roh asked. "It depends on how deep it is."
"Oh my," Taigan said. "My, my."
"Put pressure on it," Roh said. "Press hard. That helps."
"I don't think I've ever bled this much from a single wound," Taigan said. "This is very curious. Can I die now? That would be… remarkable."
"Better not test that out," Roh said.
Taigan glanced around the sandbar. "Where's Lilia?"
"She… disappeared," Roh said. "After she… I don't know. Brought us all together. Do you… are you feeling strange? Do you have memories?"
"Memories?" Taigan said. "Only the ones I've always had."
"What does that mean?" Luna said. "I… I have…"
"Me too," Roh said.
"Ah," Taigan said. "How… interesting. You carry memories of… other lives? Other worlds?"
"You don't?" Roh said.
Taigan grinned. Clapped his hands. "How incredible," he said. "I am unique! Perfectly singular to this world. How delightful. I always knew I was terribly special."
Maralah said, "Don't get ahead of yourself, Taigan. You're bleeding. What bleeds can die, now."
"Oh, how lovely," Taigan said. "After all we've been through, after all this, you want more death?"
"No," Maralah said, gazing back at the beached Saiduan ship. "I want to go home."
"What happens now?" Roh said.
"Now," Taigan said, "I will go off and have some excellent adventures, and hopefully never see a single one of you again."
Anavha lay on the sandbar, sobbing, hugging himself, rocking slowly back and forth. His mind was crowded with memories, from this life and so many others. Zezili, so many versions of Zezili; he had loved her, she had killed him, he had killed her, Natanial had killed her, her sisters had killed her. Zezili, dying by the Empress's hand. Death, over and over.
But in nearly every memory of his own life he lived. He married Taodalain. He married Natanial. He married Nusi. He lived alone in a print shop in Aaldia. He became a tailor. He had children. So many children! Oh, how he had wanted children.
The wave of memories overcame him. He lay on the sand, eyes squeezed shut.
"Anavha?"
Was that in his head, or here?
Anavha rubbed his face and looked up. There was Natanial, crouched nearby, mop of wet hair hanging into his face. "They aren't real," Natanial said, "they're just memories. Let them come." He brushed the hair away from Anavha's face.
"I don't know what to do!" Anavha gasped.
"I do," Natanial said. "I… Every version of me does. I've been very selfish, Anavha. No better than the others."
"Where is Zezili? Please, I have to know!"
Natanial cupped Anavha's cheek. "Is she always there? Every memory?"
Anavha nodded.
"Not in this one," Natanial said.
"You didn't see her?"
"She isn't on the beach, Anavha. I don't think she made it out of the temple. Neither did that girl operating the mechanism. They're both gone, together."
"Natanial, I can't feel Oma anymore. Is it… did it go away?"
"It did."
"I don't miss it. Natanial, it's a relief not to feel it." Anavha squeezed his eyes shut again, seeking that fine sliver of power, the nagging breath of Oma. But there was nothing. Just him and all of his choices.
"What do you want, Anavha?"
"I want to go home," Anavha said.
"All right," Natanial said, and lifted him up.
|
(Worldbreaker Saga 3) The Broken Heavens
|
Kameron Hurley
|
[
"fantasy",
"LGBT",
"science fiction fantasy"
] |
[] |
Chapter 53
|
The seams between the worlds had closed. That much seemed certain, in the aftermath of the shattered temple and broken heavens.
The satellites had disappeared, leaving the sky empty, save for the double helix of the suns during the day and the three warbling moons at night.
Had Lilia made the satellites come back to together into a single form? If so, where had it gone? Where had she gone? Sent somewhere else? Blinked out of existence, like so many of the other people that had been brought together from across so many worlds? Whole armies had gone missing, villages scoured of inhabitants. Those who remained went mad, struggling with a rush of disparate memories, of lives lived and unlived.
The world of Raisa had come back together. They had won. But to win, they had broken the world they knew. They had broken the sky.
A nascent world began that day. What that world would look like, though, no one knew. That was a future none of them had lived, not in any memory, not on any world.
It was something entirely new.
|
(Worldbreaker Saga 3) The Broken Heavens
|
Kameron Hurley
|
[
"fantasy",
"LGBT",
"science fiction fantasy"
] |
[] |
Chapter 54
|
Roh felt a deep sense of loss as he stepped onto the repaired Saiduan ship with Luna, Maralah and Anavha. It had been three weeks since the sky broke, and not a single one of them had an ascendant star. He still woke at night, aching for Para, reaching for a power that was not there.
There was no more magic in the world. Just people who used to wield it. People who remembered it.
Over time, the memories of his other lives began to fade and flicker. He was aware of them most often in his dreams, when he experienced some bickering fight with Kihin, or when he woke sweating beside Kadaan, convinced that he had killed him, only to realize that was in some other life.
Yisaoh met them on the deck of the ship as the wind whipped around them. "I can't believe you're going back to Aaldia," she said. "I thought you'd change your mind before today." She rubbed her fingers together, as if longing for a cigarette that was no longer there. Roh suspected she would need to find a new habit.
"I like Aaldia," Roh said. "And I think we could build a life there. A different Dhai. I'm sure Meyna will be back, soon. You know you'll have to work something out, with whoever is in charge of the Dhai here."
"It's just as well," Yisaoh said. "I keep expecting Mohrai to show up, some version of her resurrected by… all this. Wouldn't that be interesting?"
"That's a word for it," Roh said. "But let's hope not."
For Roh, there were too many memories here, too many burned out orchards and clan squares and death and battle and violent politics. He had no illusion that a Dhai he helped create in Aaldia with the survivors from the Woodland would be much different, but he hoped the past would not haunt him there as it would here.
"Lots of Dhai still in the valley," Yisaoh said. "Lots of madness, too. Lost Tai Mora."
"You think you can build a peaceful society that includes those Tai Mora?"
"I think we can build… a different one."
"Good luck."
"To you, also, Roh. You think we're the lucky ones?"
"Yes," Roh said. "We get to live. The ones who live get to shape what comes next."
Luna held out a hand to him, and Roh took it. Kadaan walked up behind him and took his other hand. For the first time in years, Roh felt comforted. Safe. For once he did not mind being merely a passenger, a follower.
He wanted to go to Aaldia and plant an orchard. He wanted to become a farmer, and die old there in his own grove, back pressed against the warm bark of a tree he had nurtured with his own two hands. He wanted to create something, to build something, because he was weary of destruction.
And as he gazed over at Luna and up again at Kadaan, he had a moment of audacious hope that such a life was possible, that he could build a home with the people he loved, and that there would be generations of Dhai and Saiduan or whatever they called themselves next, and that their children, and children's children, would never have to experience what they had. Never again.
Natanial did not board one of the Saiduan ship to Aaldia, though Aaldia was certainly the only home he had ever truly known. Instead he watched the ships launch into the clear, sun-kissed sea. He stood on the beach, alone, peering out at Anavha's dark head there on the deck for as long as he could before the ship's distance swallowed him.
Saradyn waited beside him, turning his face up into the double suns and smacking his thick lips.
"Why didn't you go with them?" Natanial asked. "I thought you'd follow that boy forever."
"He was very powerful," Saradyn said, pulling at his lip. "But now… Now, I can't see his ghosts." He peered at Natanial. "Or yours, for that matter. My head feels… clearer. I feel… more myself."
"Which self?"
"Ah, that is the question." He peered back at the suns, and Natanial wondered what he saw there; the Thief Queen he had murdered, maybe, or married, in some other life. The children he didn't kill, the life of a tavern keep, or a drunkard, instead of a king. Natanial did not ask because he did not want to know, did not want to get all those versions of Saradyn mixed up with the monstrous self-styled former king who stood before him. It could be easy to forget who was friend and who was foe, when the world had been unmade and remade again.
"I think I'll take up a trade," Saradyn said. "Making something." He held up the arm still missing a hand. "Go into making fake hands! Ha! An art!" This seemed to please him, and he began to grin and snort.
"You're in a good humor."
"What's left? I've already gone mad, once. I prefer humor. But you… You'll want to get back to your men."
"Will I? Half of them have probably gone mad, like you. It's a long journey out of the Woodland to the valley, and I'm not sure what we'll find there."
"We are all mad, now. Now you know what it's like."
"There will be power upsets," Natanial said. "You could go back to Tordin and be a king, truly. Unite Tordin like you always dreamed."
"That was some other man's dream."
"What does this man dream?"
Saradyn furrowed his brows. "I don't know."
"I think I'll go down into the valley," Natanial said. "That Gian woman is bound to fill the void here, and she'll need good fighters beside her."
"You will still fight?"
"I don't know how to do anything else."
Saradyn guffawed. "You get after that pretty boy for following, but you are just like him."
"Maybe that's why I tried so hard to set him free. You make a habit of following others, thinking they will take you some place new, reveal something about you, give you some meaning. And when they don't, you find you're stuck in the same circle, trying to find comfort in servitude."
"Can't relate."
Natanial sighed. "I didn't expect you to." He gazed one last time at the blot of the ships along the horizon, wondering what kind of life Anavha would live without him or Zezili, without the burden of being an omajista, existing as a foreign man in a foreign land. He hoped it was a different life than the one either of them had led up to this point.
"Goodbye, Saradyn," Natanial said. "You have enough water to make it back?"
"Always enough," Saradyn said. "Just going to sit here for a while. I enjoy watching the sea in silence. Did you know, Natanial? The children have stopped screaming."
Natanial hefted his pack and turned away from the ocean. He forged back up the beachhead and entered the cool, dark wood.
Taigan settled into the warm arms of a bonsa tree, near enough the coast to watch the Saiduan ships disappear over the horizon. Taigan snoozed there until the suns began to set, considering what came next. Taigan rubbed at her itching crotch; she'd gotten another yeast infection, which made urinating painful. It appeared Taigan would mostly present to the world with female sex organs and a downy beard that Taigan found most pleasing. Taigan had tried on ataisa pronouns for a few weeks while helping the others repair the ships, but found being "she" fit just fine, for however long Taigan lived in this newly rotting body.
Would she transform again? Who could say? But the wounds she had received in the slimy temple had scabbed over and healed slowly, as if she were some mundane body, just another anonymous refugee on Raisa, not special at all, not chosen.
She very much enjoyed being herself, belonging to herself, in a way that had never existed for her, not in the many centuries of memory that she could still recall.
"Fly, fly, little bird," Taigan called to the suns, and, though she had succeeded in avoiding such thoughts in the weeks after the satellites winked out of the sky, Taigan thought of Lilia. She considered writing a memoir of this time. Perhaps she could call it: Pretty Little Cannibals: My Life Among the Dhai. That made her laugh out loud. A good laugh that shook her chest and made it ache.
Foolish Lilia, the ungifted worldshaper, the headstrong burnout, the child she had thrown off a cliff, but who had nontheless become the masterful architect of this new world.
A world without the satellites. A world without magic. Without immortality. A world where they had only themselves. Taigan thought it would be a duller world, but she had found that bleeding and coughing made the experience of being alive far more exciting than it ever had been for her before.
She could die now. Really die. If she chopped off someone's limb, it would stay chopped off, forever. She had watched a man in the camp fall off the ship and break a leg a few days before, and the tirajista who ran to help him had a look of utter horror and confusion as she realized she could do nothing but set the bone and bind the leg. A new world. A broken world.
Taigan slid down the tree, scraping her hands as she did. She marveled again at the little flakes of skin, the small beads of blood. How extraordinary. The prick of pain, the warmth of the tree's bark, the tangy smell of the sea: it all felt somehow more brilliant, more beautiful, knowing that any moment could be the last she experienced of anything.
Mortality. What a wonderful gift.
EPILOGUE
She lay in a field of heavy-headed poppies, staring at an empty lavender sky. Her body felt light, only a little painful. When she pressed her hand to the place where her wound had been, her tunic was still cut and crusted with blood, but there was no scar. The air was warm, like the last breath of low summer moving to high fall. The trees above her scattered a few heavy brown leaves, but were otherwise in their full splendor.
Her last memory of this life, in this world, it had been spring, heading into high summer. Where had all the weeks gone? She did not know. But that other one, the Kai… Ahkio, yes, he had woken missing weeks, too, hadn't he? After going back in time, he leapt forward…
Memories skipped across her mind. She remembered bringing the worlds together. But she remembered many other lives as well. She was killed by Kirana as a child, plucked from her mother's arms in the burning village. She died tumbling from a tree before she learned how to read. Taigan pushed her off the cliff, and it broke her, really broke her, and Gian did not save her. Gian, Gian… She had memories of so many Gians. The Gian who had escorted her away from Kalinda's. The Gian with the maggot-infested leg, whom she had nursed back to health. The terrible Gian who worked with Kirana. Lilia had the memory of knowing that Gian too, of an arranged marriage they had both thought they would hate, but loving each other anyway. Of walking and running without her twisted foot, but tumbling anyway, pushed from the top of the ark by one of Gian's rival generals.
And more, others, but no good endings, no death where they were two old women, drunk on too much hard tea and each other. Lilia's memories were all of an early death, in every world.
It was why she was still trying to understand why she had woken up again in this one.
A cry came from nearby. She slowly rose, and gazed across the field of poppies. She should have known that her view from here would be of Oma's Temple. Oma did have a sense of humor. Oma, or… whatever beast or creature had helped guide them.
The shrubbery parted, and Namia came racing through, standing entirely upright now, making a murmuring sound in her throat, and signing over and over, "Lilia!"
Namia grabbed hold of her, knocking her back over, and Lilia grunted, the breath squeezed from her. Namia released her and kept hold of her with one hand while signing frantically with the other, so fast Lilia could not keep up. Namia was taller, Lilia noticed, her face rounder, her gangly limbs more robust. Her hair had grown, and been expertly braided with ribbons in a very lovely style that reminded Lilia just a bit of Dorinah.
"Namia?"
Another figure came up the hill, pressing through the poppies, and Lilia knew the voice.
Gian halted when she caught sight of her. She, too, had filled out, and it gave her more softness than Lilia had seen in any of her memories. She had cut her dark hair short in the back and looped the rest up behind her into a topknot. She held a large walking stick in one hand and the lead of a large brown dog mount in the other. The dog moved its ears forward and gave a little yip.
Namia signed Lilia's name again, this time in Gian's direction.
"Yes, yes, I see her," Gian said. She came forward slowly, parting the poppies. "We weren't going to come up this way. It's far off the path to Mount Ahya, but Namia insisted. I see why."
Lilia said, "You look well."
Gian laughed at that, and then Lilia laughed too, because it was a foolish way to start, after so much time, in so strange a place.
"How long has it been?" Lilia asked.
"When did you get here?"
"I… don't know. I remember… all those lives… do you? And I remember the orrery. Did everyone live?"
"Everyone lived," Gian said, "and they carried all of their other selves, too. I suppose, then, everyone, on every world, lived. Some more so than others. Not everyone liked what they remembered."
"You remember me?"
"I remember all of the versions of you that you remember of me."
Lilia felt her face warm, and pressed her hands against her cheeks. What a strange reaction. A foolish notion.
Gian laughed. "You just got even darker!" She sobered. "We thought you were dead. A lot of people simply… blinked out, like the stars. We have a theory those were the ones who hadn't survived in most of their other lives. It's a question that will keep philosophers busy for ages. Found new religions. Which we will need, of course."
Lilia gazed again at the sky. "How long has it been?"
"A little more than a year."
"A year… That's so much time… more than…"
"You have no memory of this last year, in any life?"
"No."
Gian nodded behind her, at the great hulking form of Mount Ahya. "That's not so bad," she said. "I settled all of my people in, and the Kai has been easy to work with."
Lilia opened her mouth to ask who the Kai was, and then realized she didn't want to know. She had never wanted to be involved in any of that; politics and games were a means to an end, to revenge. Now she felt… relief. But also an emptiness. What drove you on, after you put the world back together?
Gian said, "I've a mind to climb Mount Ahya. Did you want to come? I have a… memory of us doing that, in some… other life."
"Mount Ahya? It touches the sky."
"Indeed. I'd like to touch the sky again."
Namia signed at Lilia, "Come."
"What do you remember, Namia?" Lilia asked.
"Many things," Namia signed. "All here."
Lilia embraced Namia again. "I'm so sorry for everything."
"Don't be sorry," Gian said, "you saved more of us than I ever thought possible."
"What do you think it was?" Lilia asked Gian. "The satellites? What do you think they broke?"
"I think it was nothing we were supposed to understand. I think we meddled with something very old, far older than us, and misused it."
"Do you think it's been trying all this time, to put us back together?"
"I'm not a god, Lilia. Just a woman."
Lilia struggled to her feet. Gian moved forward to help her. Lilia took her offered hand; warm and calloused, with long, lean fingers. Their gazes met. A tumble of memories. Gian would have them too. All those lives, all those deaths. They both should have winked out, if death was what destroyed the others, but here they were. Oma's sense of humor.
"Maybe we'll live this time," Gian said.
"Everyone dies," Lilia said, "it's just a matter of choosing what you do between now and then."
"Let's climb mountains, then."
They turned toward Mount Ahya, fingers entwined, heads no longer raised to the sky, but to each other.
⁂
Glossary:
Aaldia: Country on the southwestern shore of Grania, led by a conclave of three queens and two kings, each representing one of the five former independent states of the region.
Aaldians: The people of Aaldia, a country on the southwestern shore of Grania, known for their passion for mathematics.
Aaraduan: Far northeastern city in Saiduan, home to one of the infamous "living holds" of the western half of Raisa. Before the Saiduans, the city was called Roasandara, and was part of the ancient Dhai empire. The city was destroyed by the Tai Mora.
Aatai: Saiduan liquor.
Abas Morasorn: A Saiduan dancer at Kuonrada.
Adenoak: A type of yellowish hardwood tree commonly grown in Dhai.
Ahkio Javia Garika: Son of Javia Mia Sorai and Rishin Garin Badu. Li Kai. Brother to Kirana Javia Garika.
Ahmur: The largest of Raisa's three moons.
Aimuda Mosifa Taosina: Elder Ora of the Temple of Tira. Masura's cousin.
Alaar Masoth Taar: The Patron of Saiduan; eighth in the country's current line of rulers. A tirajista.
Alais Sohra Garika: Birth mother to Yisaoh Alais Garika. Married Garika clan master, Tir, and Moarsa, and Gaila.
Alasu Carahin Sorila: A Kuallina militia member found dead in Clan Sorila.
Albaaric: A city in Saiduan on the coast. Home city of Maralah Daonia.
Alhina Sabita Sorai: Mohrai's cousin.
Almeysia Maisia Sorila: An Ora and the Mistress of Novices at the Temple of Oma. A very sensitive tirajista who can call upon her powers even when Tira is in decline.
Aloerian: A city in Dorinah near a dajian camp.
Alorjan: An island nation currently claimed by both Saiduan and Dorinah forces. Both nations removed their forces to deal with Tai Mora matters.
Amelia Novao: A Dorinah Seeker. Recruited and bound by Lilia to help her get the dajian refugees across the Dhai border.
Anavha Hasaria: Zezili Hasaria's husband. Son of Gilyna Lasinya. The Empress awarded Anavha to Zezili as a token for her service.
Anjoliaa: A port city in southern Saiduan.
Aradan Foswen: A leader in an alternate version of Raisa.
Arakam Solaan, Ren: An ataisa sanisi.
Aramey Dahina Dasina: A Dhai scholar. Married to Lanilu Asaila Sorila.
Arasia Marita Sorila: Temporary keeper of Liona Stronghold.
Arisaa Saara: One of Alaar Masoth Taar's wives. Known as his most formidable wife, Arisaa is the mother of Alaar's most beloved sons and provides him with valued advice.
Asaolina: A small village in Dorinah.
Ashaar Toaan: A Saiduan scholar.
Asona Harbor: Harbor on the Hareo Sea, in Clan Sorai. This defensive structure was built by Faith Ahya and Hahko in anticipation of raids from Saiduan and Dorinah.
Avosta: A former member of Ghrasia Madah's militia.
Azorum: A dead people conquered by the Tai Mora on their world.
Bael Asaraan: Record-keeper for the archives at Kuonrada. Native of Caisau.
Battle at Roasandara: A battle between the Saiduan and the ancient Dhai at the city of Roasandara, taught to every member of the Saiduan military.
Bendi: A strategy game played in Dhai.
Bleeding pen: A pen made from the stamens of claw-lilies.
Blinding tree: A tree that emits a deadly acid that numbs flesh and can eat through skin, bone and armor.
Bone Festival: One of the winter festivals held in Saiduan.
Bone tree: A tree with yellowish bark and spiny branches, made of bone. It catches small animals in its branches, and secretes a poisonous sap that kills its prey.
Bonsa: Large, yellow-barked trees trained to become living establishments in Dhai. Saplings are also used to create weapons infused with the breath of Para.
Book of Dhai: A written set of religious practices, codes and laws followed by the Tai Mora. The book states that when Oma rises, one world will die and another will be transformed. In the book, omajistas are referred to as the hand of Oma, and will decide the fate of the worlds.
Book of Laine: The holy book of Tordin.
Book of Oma: A written set of religious practices, codes and laws followed in Dhai.
Book of Rhea: A written set of religious practices, codes and laws followed in Dorinah.
Borasau: A Tai Mora, one of Roh's captors.
Broodguard: The Patron of Saiduan's personal guards.
Caisa Arianao Raona: Novice at the Temple of Oma now working as Ahkio's assistant. Parajista.
Caisau: A city in Saiduan just south of Isjahilde. Caisau's hold is a living building, but has been repaired so many times over the years that it is a patchwork of organic and inorganic material. 2,000 years ago, Caisau was the seat of the Dhai empire.
Caratyd: A city in Tordin.
Casa Maigan: An old acquaintance of Dasai's who has talamynii blood and can read old talamynii. Was part of Alaar Masoth Taar's harem in Isjahilde. Casa was left behind by the prior Patron, and inherited by Alaar.
Casalyn Aurnaisa: Empress of Dorinah. Long ago, her people crossed over from another world, but many were left behind. She seeks to bring the rest over now, with the help of the Tai Mora. Other titles – Eye of Rhea, Rhea's Regent, Lord of the Seven Isles.
Castaolain: A city in Dorinah.
Catori: Spouse of the Kai. The current Catori is Mohrai Hona Sorai.
Chali Finahin Badu: Brother of Roh; they share two mothers and three fathers but are not related by blood.
Cholina: A city in Dorinah, located northeast of Daorian.
Clan Adama: Named for one of Hahko and Faith Ahya's children, Clan Adama's primary exports come from its orchards, generally in the form of olives, apples, cherries, and apricots. Also known for its rice production.
Clan Alia: Primary exports of Clan Alia include textiles. Also known for its rice production.
Clan Badu: Clan bordering Clans Garika and Sorila, in Dhai. Politically close to Clan Garika.
Clan Daora: Clan Daora, like Clan Badu, has a skill with forged pieces, including tools and weaponry, though it is much more well-known for its craftsmanship and attention to detail. Their jewelry pieces are highly sought after in Saiduan and Aaldia.
Clan Garika: Known as the most powerful single clan in Dhai, Clan Garika is the birthplace of three Kais and four Catoris. Often at the center of challenging the power and autonomy of the Kais, the clan is also an economic center and trading hub for the whole country. Goods coming up from the harbor in Sorai are generally brought to Garika for distribution and sale across the clan. Much of the population makes a living as merchants, traders, and in other skilled professions such as plumbers, hedge doctors, and clan law specialists.
Clan Mutao: Smallest and least economically powerful of the Dhai clans, Clan Mutao provides some exports in mushrooms, coal, and copper, but mostly ends up working in reserves overseen by neighboring Clan Nako. Their status as a dwindling clan requiring subsistence from others to survive has led to a petition in recent years to combine clans Nako and Mutao.
Clan Nako: Neighboring Clan Mutao, Clan Nako holds much of the country's wealth in copper and other metals. The sale of these materials is regulated by the clan, which manipulates supply and demand as necessary to ensure the best exported price. Such market manipulation for goods meant for sale within the country are not permitted, but exports are exempt.
Clan Osono: Central clan in Dhai. Chief commodity is sheep.
Clan Raona: Originally comprised of two different clans—Riana and Orsaila—Clan Roana is just a century old, and was created in an effort to tamp down the fierce feuding between the Riana and Orsaila clans, which resulted in nearly a dozen deaths, the most unnatural deaths outside of war time that the country had ever experienced. Clan Roana is loosely aligned with clans Saobina and Taosina. Primary exports include rice and wine. Raona also raises most of the sparrows used as messengers in the Dhai temples.
Clan Saiz: Dhai clan. Chief commodity is timber and artisanal goods.
Clan Saobina: Clan Saobina exports timber and plantstuffs - including herbal aids and medications - which it grows and mixes in its own fields and workshops. The clan borders the woodlands, and so its members tend to be called on to consult on poisonous or dangerous plant outbreaks between the clans.
Clan Sorai: Named after the powerful son of the third Kai, Clan Sorai is often allied with clans Adama and Saobina in political affairs. They are also the clan responsible for the safety and security of Asona harbor, the country's single largest trading link to the outside world. The clan is generally allied closely with the Kai, and has a notorious rivalry with Clan Garika. The clan's leader is Hona Fasa Sorai.
Clan Sorila: Clan nearest the Temple of Oma, in Dhai. Primary export is timber.
Clan Taosina: Named for Faith Ahya's second daughter, clan Taosina - like clans Saobina and Sorila - borders the woodlands. Pottery and complex, plant-derived technologies such as bioluminescent floor or ceiling lighting solutions, self-cleaning fungus floors and the like are generally created and installed by Taosina crafters.
Concordyns: A province in Tordin.
Cora: A dajian who lives with Emlee.
Corina Yisaoh (Tai Mora): Yisaoh's daughter, being raised by the Tai Mora versions of Kirana and Yisaoh.
Coryana Puyak: A friend of Natanial's who trains gifted on how to draw on the satellites' powers.
Dajian: In Dorinah, enslaved Dhai people are called dajians. Often they are branded with the mark of the family that owns them.
Dakar: Zezili Hasaria's dog mount.
Daolyn: Owned by Zezili Hasaria, housekeeper and dajian.
Daorian: The fortress seat of the Empress of Dorinah. A city of the same name rose up around the fortress on the ruins of the former Saiduan city of Diamia.
Dasai Elasora Daora (Dhai): An elder Ora, over a century old. One of Ahkio Javia Garika's teachers. In Dasai's youth, he was a slave to the Patron of Saiduan at that time.
Dasai Elasora (Tai Mora): Tai Mora magistrate in charge at Caisau.
Dayns: A runt dog belonging to Saradyn.
Dhai: Small country located on the northwest corner of the island of Grania, an island at the far tip of the Saiduan continent. Also the name of the people inhabiting this country. Modern Dhai was established 500 years ago by former slaves fleeing their masters in the neighboring country of Dorinah. It's said the satellite called Sina was especially powerful during that time, allowing Dhai sinajistas, who outnumbered sinajistas among the Dorinah, to escape their servitude.
Dhai has been led by a series of leaders given the title Kai. The title is hereditary and passes through the mother's lineage to the child with the greatest ability to call on the power of the satellites.
Dhorin: A unit of currency used in Dorinah.
Dorinah: A matriarchal country on the northeast shore of Grania, ruled by a long line of Empresses. The country is roughly 1800 years old, and relies on the enslaved labor of Dhai people - known locally as dajians - to sustain its infrastructure and economy. The flag depicts the Eye of Rhea on a purple background.
Driaa Saarik, Shao: An atasia sanisi. Sent to Alorjan to shore up the island for Saiduan's retreat. Recommended by Maralah to meet with the Dhai party sent to Saiduan. Born in Tordin.
Dryan: A city in Dorinah.
Elaiko Sirana Nako: An Ora at the Temple of Oma and assistant to Nasaka Lokana Saiz.
Emlee: Gifted healer and midwife in a dajian camp, now liberated.
Empresses of Dorinah: The line of Empresses in Dorinah began 1800 years ago, when a green-eyed foreign sorceress expelled Saiduan from the fortress of Daorian.
Enforcers: Members of the Dorinah military who capture wandering men or dajians and return them to where they belong.
Esao Josa: Granddaughter of Nirata Josa. Esao is killed when a gate summoned by her grandmother closes on her.
Etena Mia Soria: Ahkio Javia Garika's aunt, Etena was driven mad by her own power and supplanted as Kai by her sister, Javia Mia Sorai. Exiled from Dhai.
Everpine: The scent of this tree dissuades bugs and most sentient plants. Travelers through the Woodland apply the scent to sleeping rolls and other supplies they want to remain undisturbed.
Fasia's Point: A fingerling peninsula in the Dhai Woodland that juts into the sea.
Faith Ahya: Faith Ahya is regarded as the mother of the newest incarnation of the Dhai nation, founded five hundred years before when she led an uprising of Dhai slaves in Dorinah. With her lover Hahko, she established the Dhai nation in one of the most contaminated areas on the planet, one few other nations would touch. For five hundred years, the descendants of her eldest and most gifted children have ruled Dhai as the Kai, or "First Dhai."
In the dajian version of the legend, Faith Ahya is betrayed by her lover Hahko, killed, and hung from the ramparts of Daorian. She then ascended to the peak of Mount Ahya and was engulfed by the light of Sina. It is said she will return to the world when she is needed.
In a story in Fifteenth Century Dhai Romances, Faith Ahya was a slave from Aaldia. She carried the child of an enslaved Dhai, and was a pitiful and self-serving character.
Faith's Rally: A Dhai song about Faith Ahya establishing the first clan.
Faralis Mosa Daora: A member of the Liona militia.
Farosi Sana Nako: A militia man, leader of a group of Oras and militia sent out to search Dhai for assassins. His group located and killed five of the assassins. Head of the militia at the Temple of Oma.
Faythe: A story from Fifteenth Century Dhai Romances, in which Faith Ahya was a slave from Aaldia. She carried the child of an enslaved Dhai, and was a pitiful figure.
Faytin Villiam: A Tordinian historian who recorded events during the time of the Thief Queen.
Fellwort: A plant trap that consists of a pit filled with poisonous green bile.
Festival of Para's Ascendance: A festival held on the day when parajistas are at the height of their power.
Fifteenth Century Dhai Romances: A book of Dhai history written by Dorinahians. Includes the story "Faythe."
Finahin Humey Garika: One of Roh's mothers.
Flame flies: Flies that create light, used in lanterns.
Floxflass: A yellow, thorned plant that moves to constrict prey in its tendrils.
Forsia tubers: A tuber that is poisonous if not deveined. Root of forsia lillies.
Foryer Galind: One of Anavha's guards in Tordin.
Fouria Orana Saiz: A Kuallina militia member found dead at the bottom of a well in Clan Sorila.
Fox-snaps: Plant defenses used outside Woodland Dhai homes to protect them from dangerous wild plants.
Gaila Karinsa Pana: Near-mother to Yisaoh Alais Garika. Married to Alais, Tir and Moarsa.
Gaiso Lonai Garika (Dhai): Elder Ora of the Temple of Oma in Dhai. She was responsible for the overall functioning of the temple and care of the people therein. Cousin to Tir Salarihi Garika. Replaced by Ora Soruza Morak Sorai.
Gaiso Lonai (Tai Mora): Tai Mora parajista company general. One of Kirana's four line commanders.
Gasira: A city in Tordin; the seat of Saradyn's power.
Ghakar Korsaa: Dance teacher at Kuonrada.
Ghrasia Madah Taosina: Ghrasia's mother was originally of Clan Mutao, but relocated to Taosina and named Ghrasia for that clan. Ghrasia went on to become a hero – the Dhai general who defeated the Dorinahians during the Pass War. She is currently the head of the military forces stationed at Kuallina Stronghold and Liona Stronghold. An old friend and lover of Ahkio's mother, Ghrasia is allied with him.
Gian Mursia: Former dajian servant in Daorian with latent skill in calling on the satellites.
Gian Mursia Badu (Tai Mora): A tirajista Tai Mora raised on Raisa prime in Clan Badu, and directed to accompany Lilia Sona by Kalinda Lasa.
Giska: An Aaldian, one of Nusi's siblings.
Gonsa trees: Great trees which are hollowed out by tirajistas for use as homes in Dhai.
Gorosa Malia Osono: Head of the hold at Kuallina.
Grania: The island continent that is home to the countries of Dhai, Dorinah, Aaldia and Tordin, located at the far tip of the Saiduan continent.
Guise of the Heart: A Dorinah romantic political thriller set in Daorian a century ago.
Hadaoh Alais Garika: Husband to Meyna Salisia Mutao and brother to Rhin Gaila Garika, Lohin Alais Garika and Yisaoh Alais Garika.
Hague Gasan: Steward at the Gasiran hold.
Hahko: Hahko was a former slave in Dorinah, and aided his lover Faith Ahya in leading the uprising of the Dhai slaves from the scullery of Daorian. The two became the first rulers of the independent Dhai state, the first in over eighteen hundred years, after the defeat of the Dhai by the Saiduan roughly the same time ago. Like many slaves in Dorinah before and since, Hahko had only one given name.
Halimey Farai Sorila: A young parajista who works with Ghrasia to look for Tai Mora assassins living in Dhai. A member of the Liona militia.
Haloria Tarisa: Syre Storm's second in command.
Harajan: A city in Saiduan, south of Kuonrada. Contains an old hold built by the Talamynii that borders an underground sea.
Harina Fiaza Taosina: Newly appointed Ora. Sinajista.
Hasao: Meyna's child, Li Kai.
Himsa: A Tai Moran scholar.
Hirosa Mosana Badu: Clan leader of Clan Badu.
Hona Fasa Sorai: Leader of Clan Sorai.
Honorin Sholash: A Tai Mora military leader.
Hrollief: Southern continent on the western half of Raisa.
Huraasa Firaas, Ren: Sanisi in charge of shoring up the Saiduan retreat to Anjoliaa.
Isaila Larano Raona: Tir Salarihi Garika's apprentice clan leader at Clan Garika. Her mother was clan leader before Tir. Isaila was given the clan leader seat after Ahkio exiled Tir and his family.
Isjahilde: A city in northern Saiduan, Isjahilde has been the country's political center for thousands of years.
Isoail Rosalina: A powerful parajista living near Lake Morta in Dorinah. One of the Empress of Dorinah's seekers.
Jakobi Torisa Garika: Ahkio's third cousin. Chosen to accompany Ahkio to Clan Osono to meet with the clan leaders.
Janifa: A city on the coast in Dorinah.
Jasoi (Januvar) of Lind: Native to Tordin, Jasoi's title among the Dorinah is Syre. She is Zezili Hasaria's second-in-command,
Javia Mia Sorai: Former Kai of the Dhai. Ahkio and Kirana's mother. Javia became Kai after exiling her sister Etena, who was so gifted that she went mad.
Joria: An outer island to the north of Dorinah.
Jovonyn: A coastal city in Dorinah.
Kadaan Soagan, Ren: A sanisi, and one of Maralah Daonia's first students. Left hand of the Patron of Saiduan. Called the Shadow of Caisau. A parajista.
Kai: Honorific used for the leader of the Dhai people. The title of "Kai" means "First," and was used in reference to the eldest daughter of former slaves Hahko and Faith Ahya, who are credited with founding the country. The line follows the most gifted in a family, no matter their sex or gender. Though the Kai is the leader of the Dhai, they do not have absolute rule in the country; they are held accountable to clan leaders, their Ora advisors, and the people themselves. The Kai's duties are as a religious and political figure, negotiator of contracts with other countries, and arbitrator of disputes between the clans.
Kai Saohinla Savasi: Kai sometime before Kirana. Visited the heart of Oma's temple after the battle of Roasandara.
Kakolyn Kotaria: A legion commander in Dorinah whose estate was sold off to pay her debts. Her title in the Dorinah military is "Syre." Kakolyn was ordered by the Empress to purge Seekers from Dorinah.
Kalinda Lasa: A parajista Tai Mora who has traveled to many worlds. She was the keeper of a wayhouse in Dhai on the road to Garika, and was killed by Tai Mora. Kalinda grew up with Nava Sona, and aided Lilia when she was separated from her mother.
Karoi: One of four kinds of nocturnal scavengers in the Dhai Woodlands. The karoi is a vicious black raptor.
Karosia Soafin: Local priest and tirajista in the region of Zezili Hasaria's estate in Dorinah.
Keeper Takanaa: Keeper of the Patron of Saiduan's house.
Kidolynai: A city in Dorinah.
Kihin Moarsa Garika: A novice at the Temple of Oma. Tir Salarihi Garika's youngest son. He was killed in Saiduan.
Kimey Falmey Nako: Defensive forms teacher in Clan Osono.
Kindar: A cooperative game of strategy played in Dhai. Pieces are wooden figures that represent family members.
Kirana Javia Garika (Dhai): Former Kai of the Dhai. Sister to Akhio Javia Garika. Daughter of Javia Mia Sorai.
Kirana Javia (Tai Mora): Kai of the Tai Mora. Said to be the savior of the Tai Mora, this version of Kirana seeks to save her people from the destruction of their world. A tirajista with some sensitivity to Oma.
Korloria Fanis: Tai Mora attendant to the slaves translating texts in Caisau.
Kosoli Mashida: One of Roh's captors.
Kovaas Sorataan, Ren: A sanisi in Maralah's trusted circle.
Kuallina Stronghold: Hold where Dhai militia are stationed, captained by Ghrasia Madah Taosina.
Kuonrada: A mountain city in Saiduan, built for cold weather and strong defense.
Ladiosyn: A city in Dorinah.
Laine: The god that many pray to in Tordin, and the preferred religious figure of King Saradyn Lind. The satellites are known as Laine's Sons. Oma is called Laine's Eye.
Lake Morta: Lake in a remote part of Dorinah. The lake is the subject of many Dorinah stories, and is considered to be a holy place blessed by Rhea. It is a spot where it requires less energy to travel between worlds. As a result, people from other worlds often appear here.
Lake Orastina: A lake north of Lake Morta in Dorinah.
Laralyn Maislyn: A seeker who ends up in the same dajian camp Lilia is in. Recruited and bound by Lilia to help her get the dajian refugees across the Dhai border.
Larn: A dajian who lives with Emlee.
Lasli Laodysin: See Syre Storm.
Li Kai: Successor to the Kai.
Liaro Tarisa Badu: Ahkio Javia Garika's cousin.
Lilia Sona: Scullery maid (drudge) at the Temple of Oma, originally from mirror Raisa. Daughter of Nava Sona. An omajista.
Line: A sort of living transportation system in which people travel in chrysalises.
Liona Stronghold: Hold that occupies the pass next to the valley that cuts through the mountain range separating Dhai and Dorinah. The building itself is a construct of parajista-shaped stone and tirajista-trained trees and vines. The forces stationed here are captained by Ghrasia Madah Taosina.
Litany of Breath: A litany that helps focus the user to draws on the power of the satellites.
Litany of Sounding: Defensive litany used by parajistas.
Litany of the Chrysalis: A litany that condenses the air around a parajista into a solid bubble.
Litany of the Palisade: A litany recited by parajistas to construct shields made of air.
Litany of the Spectral Snake: An offensive litany.
Litany of Unbinding: A litany to break a binding trap set by another jista.
Livia Hasaria: Zezili Hasaria's mother. A tirajista who specializes in the creation of mirrors infused with the power of Tira. Resides in the city of Saolina.
Lohin Alais Garika (Dhai): Husband to Kirana Javia Garika. Brother to Yisaoh, Rhin and Hadaoh. Former Catori of the Kai. Killed in an attempted coup.
Lohin Alais (Tai Mora): A Tai Mora infantry commander's squire and intelligence officer.
Lord's Book of Unmaking: A book with appendices that include love poetry written to Oma by a sixth century Saiduan scholar.
Luna: A Dhai bound to Saiduan and a scholar of Dhai matters. Once a Woodland Dhai, Luna was caught by a Dorinah raiding party and sold to the Saiduan.
Madah Ghrasia Mutao: Ghrasia's daughter.
Madah Ghrasia (Tai Mora): One of Kirana's four line commanders in the Tai Mora army.
Mahinla Torsa Sorila: A dying woman from Raona.
Mahuan powder: An herbal treatment for asthma, mixed with water and then ingested.
Maralah Daonia, Shao: Sanisi, one of the Patron of Saiduan's generals. Sinajista. Sister of Rajavaa Daonia. Also known as the Sword of Albaaric.
Mardanas: Brothels in the religious quarter of Dorinah cities where male prostitutes serve Rhea by pleasuring women. Also called "cat-houses."
Marhin Rasanu Badu: A Kuallina militia member, lover of Ahkio, found dead in Clan Sorila.
Marister Fen: A Tai Mora infantry member, originally from a country called Osadaina there.
Masis Avura: A Tai Mora stargazer.
Masoth Chaigaan Taar, Shas: A sanisi and Alaar Masoth Taar's eldest son.
Masura Gailia Saobina: Elder Ora of the Temple of Tira, Masura oversees everyday management of that temple. Was once a lover of Javia Mia Sorai.
Matias Hinsa Raona: Ora and doctor at the Temple of Oma. Now deceased.
Mays Krynn: A guard at the Gasiran hold in Tordin.
Mey-mey: Meyna's eldest daughter.
Meyna Salisia Mutao: Ahkio Javia Garika's housemater and lover. Wife to Hadaoh Alais Garika and Rhin Gaila Garika. Meyna and her family were exiled from Dhai by Ahkio, for their kinship to Tir Salarihi Garika.
Mihina Lorina Nako: Parajista.
Moarsa Fahinama Badu: Near-mother to Yisaoh Alais Garika. Wife to Tir, Moarsa and Alais.
Mohrai Hona Sorai: Catori of Dhai, married to Ahkio. Daughter of the leader of Clan Sorai, Hona Fasa Sorai.
Moira (Tai Mora): Kirana and Yisaoh's child. Adopted from Kirana's cousin.
Mora: The small red sun in the sky over Raisa.
Mordid: Village in Tordin with about 300 residents.
Morsaar Koryn: Rajavaa Daonia's best friend, lover, and second in command of the what remains of the Saiduan army. Started his military career as an assistant cook for the army when he was young.
Morvern's drake: Broad leafed plant which grows in boggy areas whose roots are crushed and used as a sudsing agent for scouring and cleaning.
Mount Ahya: A mountain in Dhai, located to the east of the Temple of Oma.
Mundin Mountains: Mountains at the northern border of Tordin.
Mur: One of the three moons of Raisa, Mur is irregularly shaped.
Mysa Joasta: Tai Mora omajista.
Nahinsa: A Tai Moran woman and Keeper Dasai's secretary
Naldri Fabita Badu: Elder Ora of the Temple of Para.
Namia: A young girl who travels with Lilia
Naori Gasila Alia: A powerful parajista. Ahkio's third cousin once removed.
Nasaka Lokana Saiz: An Ora at the Temple of Oma. Ahkio Javia Garika's aunt. Religious and political advisor to the Kai. Sinajista.
Natanial Thorne of Yemsire: A Tordin man who kidnaps Anavha Hasaria.
Nava Sona: Lilia's mother, from the world of the Tai Mora. Led a rebellion that took 200 omajista children and hid them across many worlds.
Nirata Josa: An omajista. Kin to Gian Mursia Badu.
Novoso Mora: The Tai Moran name for the country that was once Dhai.
Nusi: An Aaldian.
Ohanni Rorhina Osono: A parajista and dance teacher at the Temple of Oma.
Old Galind: A city in Tordin.
Oma: The dark star, a heavenly body which appears in the above Raisa every 2,000 years (or so). The light it shines is red.
Omajista: Sorcerers with the ability to channel Oma. Those with this power can open gateways between worlds and across distances, raise the dead, enhance the powers of others, call fire, and perform many other feats as yet unknown.
On Violence: A political philosophy book by Empress Penelodyn, former ruler of Tordin. Saradyn had it translated and carries it with him.
Ora: Title/honorific for a Dhai magician-priest, who is able to channel the power of Oma, Sina, Tira, or Para. Oras often act as teachers in the temples of Dhai.
Oravan: A Tai Moran servant.
Orhin: A Tai Moran scholar.
Osadaina: A country on Empress Kirana of the Tai Mora's Raisa that has no equivalent on prime Raisa.
Otolyn: A Tordinian woman and Nataniel's second.
Pana Woodlands: A woodland area in Dhai near the Temple of Oma.
Para: Para, Lord of the Air, one of the satellites that appears sporadically above Raisa. Para's light is blue.
Parajista: The common name for sorcerers who can channel Para when it is ascendant can manipulate the air levitate, effect weather, or form shields, barriers, or vortices. In Tordin they are often called wind witches.
Pasinu Hasva Sorai: Nasaka's new apprentice. Near-cousin to Mohrai, on her third mother's side.
Pass War: A war in which the Dhai, led by Ghrasia Madah Taosina, defeated Dorinah. The war started when 800 dajians escaped Dorinah and came to Liona Stronghold, begging for mercy and entrance to Dhai. Ghrasia would not let them in, and they were slaughtered by the pursuing Dorinah.
Patron of Saiduan: Leader of the Saiduan. Powerful Saiduan families have traditionally gone to war for the Patron seat. Since it was established, eighteen different families have ruled Saiduan. When a new family rises to power, the prior family's adults are killed and the children raised as slaves.
Patron Osoraan Mhoharan: Patron of Saiduan before Alaar Masoth Taar.
Penelodyn: Sister to the Empress of Dorinah. Ruled Tordin before being unseated by the Thief Queen.
People's Temple: Also known as the fifth Dhai temple, long lost beneath the sea.
Pherl: A dajian man with a flesh-eating disease who is cared for by Emlee and Lilia.
Pol: A boy in Old Galind who gives away the rebels to Saradyn.
Rainaa: A slave of the Patron of Saiduan.
Rajavaa Daonia: Maralah Daonia's brother, and Captain-General in charge of a Saiduan military regiment. Rajavaa becomes Patron after Alaar Masoth Taar is killed.
Ranana Talisina Saiz: The defense forms teacher at the Temple of Oma.
Rasaa Goara: Saiduan man who pursues Luna.
Rasandan Parada: A dancer at Kuonrada.
Rasina Tatalia: Tai Mora infantry commander. Lohin's mother through marriage.
Ren: A title among the Saiduan sanisi indicative of relative talent. Most powerful are Shao, then Ren, Tal and Shas.
Rhea: The goddess of Dorinah religion. Para, Sina and Tira are said to be her daughters. The Empress of Dorinah is also known as Rhea's divine. In Dorinah scripture, Rhea's Eye is a name for Oma.
Rhin Gaila Garika: Husband to Meyna Salisia Mutao and brother to Hadaoh Alais Garika, Lohin Alais Garika and Yisaoh Alais Garika.
Rimey Lorina Riona: A former student of Ahkio's from Clan Osono. Relocated to the Temple of Oma to serve as Ahkio's assistant.
Rishin Garin Badu: Javia's Catori and Nasaka's brother.
Rohandaar: A dead city from Tordin's history.
Rohinmey Tadisa Garika: Novice parajista at the Temple of Oma, with the ability to see through wards. Son of Finahin Humey Garika, Tadisa Sinhasa Garika, and Madinoh Ladisi Badu. Brother of Chali Finahin Badu.
Romey Sahina Osono: A former student of Ahkio Javia Garika's, whose body was found in a sheep field in Clan Osono. Presumed to have been killed by Tai Mora agents.
Rosh Mev: A young woman who started a rebellion in Old Galind.
Ryn: A city in Dorinah.
Ryyi: A leader among the Seekers.
Sabasao Orsana Adama: Assistant to Ora Una.
Sagasarian Sea: A sea to the north of Dorinah.
Sai Hofsha Sorek: Emissary of the Tai Mora.
Sai Monshara: One of the top generals of the Tai Mora, Monshara is tasked to work with Zezili Hasaria to eradicate the dajians in Dorinah. Monshara is the daughter of the former Empress of Dorinah on the Tai Mora version of Raisa. One of Kirana's four line commanders.
Saiduan: Large empire which rules the northwestern continent on Raisa. The continent itself is also called Saiduan. The empire is led by the Patron, the eighth in the country's latest family line of rulers. Powerful Saiduan families have traditionally gone to war for this seat. Since it was established, eighteen different families have ruled Saiduan.
Salifa: A Tirajista traveling with Lilia.
Sanctuary: A room at the heart of the Temple of Oma where the Dhai clan elders traditionally meet to discuss issues of government.
Sanisi: The conjurer-assassins of Saiduan. Sanisi carry weapons infused with the power of the satellites.
Saofi: The Empress of Dorinah's dajian secretary.
Saolina: A small town in Dorinah where Zezili Hasaria's mother lives.
Saolyndara: A dajian camp in Dorinah.
Saradyn of Lind: King of Tordin, he is struggling to unite the constantly warring factions in the country. Can see "ghosts," which he believes to be a cursed power bestowed on him by one of the satellites.
Saronia Sasis Sorai: A former novice Ora.
Saurika Halania Osono: Clan leader of Clan Osono.
Sazhina: A dajian. Pherl's sister.
Screes: A strategy game played in Dhai.
Sea of Haraeo: The sea that separates Dhai and Saiduan.
Seara: A winter month in the Dorinah calendar.
Sebastyn: An outer island to the north of Dorinah.
Seeker Sanctuary: The training location for Dorinah's gifted. Seekers in Dorinah have their licenses to practice magic renewed here.
Seekers: The Empress of Dorinah's assassins. The seekers have the ability to channel the satellites, a rare talent in Dorinah.
Sel oil: A flammable oil.
Shanigan Saromei Dasina: A senior Ora and mathematics teacher at the Temple of Oma.
Shao: A title among the Saiduan sanisi indicative of relative talent. Most powerful are Shao, then Ren, Tal and Shas.
Shas: A title among the Saiduan sanisi indicative of relative talent. Most powerful are Shao, then Ren, Tal and Shas.
Sindaa Mokaa, Shao: Commander of the sanisi at Harajan.
Shar: The large double helix "sun" in the sky over Raisa, actually twin stars which exchange mass as they rotate one another. Also called "the sisters."
Shodav: A dancer and old friend of Dasai and Luna. A former slave.
Shoratau: A prison in Saiduan, located northeast of Kuonrada. Shoratau houses prisoners who were thought to possibly be useful later.
Shova Hom: A Tai Mora omajista.
Siira: The Dhai name of a winter month of the year.
Silafa Emiri Pana: A young, newly appointed Ora, part of Ahkio's most trusted circle.
Sina: A satellite that appears over Raisa, also called the Lord of Unmaking. Sina's light is violet.
Sinajista: Sorcerers who can channel the power of Sina when it is ascendant. Their abilities may include calling fire, raising the dead, transmuting or transforming substances, removing wards, and prophecy.
Sloe: A runt dog belonging to Saradyn.
Sokai Vasiya: A seeker who ends up in the same dajian camp Lilia is in. Recruited and bound by Lilia to help her get the dajian refugees across the Dhai border.
Sola: A young girl refugee on boat escaping Saiduan with Luna.
Song of Davaar: A song used to focus power to creates an intricate net.
Song of One Breath: A song used to control the power of Oma, taught to Lilia by Taigan.
Song of Sorrow: An omajista litany.
Song of the Dead: A litany of remembrance.
Song of the Cactus: An attack litany.
Song of the Mountain: An offensive litany.
Song of the Pearled Wall: Defensive litany.
Song of the Proud Wall: A defensive litany.
Song of the Water Spider: An offensive litany.
Song of the Wind: An offensive litany.
Song of Unmaking: Litany that cuts a person off from their ability to draw on a satellite. Temporary, and easy to counter once one has become skilled.
Sorana Hasaria: Zezili's youngest sister.
Sorat: Emlee's nephew.
Soruza Morak Sorai: Replacement for Gaiso in overseeing Oma's Temple. A jista from the Temple of Tira.
Sorvaraa: Saiduan city south of Harajan.
Soul stealer: Saiduan term for a sinajista at the height of their power. Some sinajistas can capture and harness the soul or life essence of those they slay in their infused blades.
Sovaan Ortaa, Ren: A sanisi.
Sovonia: A seer and rebel leader on another version of Raisa.
Storm, Syre: The Empress of Dorinah's only male legion commander. Not permitted to fight, but commands others. Given name – Lasli Laodysin.
Suari Febek: A Tai Mora stargazer.
Sulana Ofasa Daora: Parajista and Ora.
Tadisa Sinhasa Garika: One of Roh's mothers. Also mother of Chali Tadisa Badu.
Taigan Masaao, Shao: An outcast sanisi aligned with Maralah, bound to her with a ward, after she was able to spare Taigan's life when Taigan betrayed the Patron. Taigan has since been tasked with finding additional omajistas to help the Saiduan fight the Tai Mora.
Tai Mora: The invaders. The Tai Mora seek to escape through a permanent gate from mirror Raisa before their world is destroyed by the ascendance of Oma.
Tal (person): A dajian. Pherl's sister.
Tal (title): A title among the Saiduan sanisi indicative of relative talent. Most powerful are Shao, then Ren, Tal and Shas.
Talahina: A Tai Moran scholar.
Talamynii: Former allies of the Dhai, when the Dhai were a powerful nation. The Talamynii tamed wolves and used them as mounts. More fearsome than the Dhai, they were wiped out by the Saiduan. The few who remained intermarried with Saiduan people and their culture was subsumed by the broader one.
Talisa Gaiko Raona: Leader of Clan Raona.
Tanasai Laosina: Near-cousin to Zezili Hasaria. Tanasai was raised as part of Zezili's family after the death of her mother, but was seen as a burden by Zezili's mother.
Tanays Heydan: Saradyn's second in command.
Taodalain Hasaria: Zezili Hasaria's sister. Daughter to Livia Hasaria.
Tasia Gohina Garika (Dhai): A young girl separated from her family.
Tasia Gohina (Tai Mora): Kirana and Yisaoh's child. Adopted from Kirana's cousin.
Temple of Oma: A temple dedicated to Oma. Located in Dhai at the tip of the Fire Gate peninsula. The building itself is a living thing, made of some unknown combination of organic matter.
Temple of Tira: A Dhai temple located deep within the Woodland. Somehow repels nearby dangerous plants. Its grounds contain the most renowned gardens in Dhai.
The Cage: A mountain range in Dorinah, near Lake Morta.
The Lament of Hahko: A very old Dhai ballad.
Tumbleterrors: A semi-sentient plant that propels itself through the woodland using massive tentacles. Moves in packs.
Thief Queen: Unseated Penelodyn and attempted to take power in Tordin. Was killed by Saradyn Lind. Also known as Quilliam of the Mountain Fortress, Quill of Galind, Quill the Thief Queen. Was once Saradyn's ward.
Ti-Li, Keeper: The keeper of Oma's Temple.
Tir Salarihi Garika: Clan leader of Clan Garika. Father to Yisaoh Alais Garika, Hadaoh Alais Garika, Rhin Gaila Garika, Lohin Alais Garika and Kihin Moarsa Garika. Exiled.
Tira: Name of the satellite also referred to as Lord of the Living. Tira's light is green.
Tirajista: Sorcerers who can channel the power of Tira when it is ascendant, which gives them the power to heal flesh and grow/train plants and other organics. Tirajistas are also skilled in the creation of wards.
Tolda: A dajian.
Tongue Mountains: Mountains in Tordin.
Tordin: Country on the southeastern shore of Grania, led currently by a King named Saradyn Lind. Constantly in a state of civil war. Was led by the Empress of Dorinah's sister, Penelodyn, before she was unseated by the Thief Queen. The country is difficult to unite because of its geography—cities are far apart, and the terrain is hilly. Dangerous plants spring up again quickly after being cut.
Tulana Nikoel, Ryii: Leader of the seekers hiding in the dajian camp where Lilia is held. An omajista.
Una Morinis Raona: Gatekeeper of the Temple of Oma.
Vestaria Mauvia: A Tai Mora at Caisau.
Voralyn Jovyn: A Dorinah Seeker recruited and bound by Lilia to help her get the dajian refugees across the Dhai border.
Water lily spiders: Semi-sentient plants that filter water when they breathe.
Willowthorn: Thorny weeping tree with small leaves which grows up to 175 feet tall. Saplings are infused with the power of Sina to create infused weapons.
Wind witches: Name for parajistas in Tordin.
Woodland Dhai: Those who have been exiled from – or who chose to exile themselves from –the Dhai settlements in the valley. The Woodland Dhai have a different dialect than those in the valley.
Wraisau Kilia, Ren: A sanisi.
Yisaoh Alais Garika (Dhai): Yisaoh once contested Javia Mia Sorai for the title of Kai. Daughter of Tir Salarihi Garika. Sister of Rhin Gaila Garika, Hadaoh Alais Garika, Lohin Alais Garika and Kihin Moarsa Garika.
Yisaoh Alais Garika (Tai Mora): Married to the Tai Mora leader, Kirana Javia.
Yivsa Afinisla: One of Kirana's four line commanders.
Zezili Hasaria (Raisa Prime): Captain general of Dorinah's eastern force. Zezili's mother, Livia Hasaria, is a titled Dorinah and her father a dajian, making her half Dhai. Her title is Syre.
Zezili Hasaria (Mirror): Incited a revolt against the Tai Mora and killed Kirana Javia's Tai Mora father. Worked on the massive mirror the Tai Mora created to facilitate entry to prime Raisa, but was eventually killed for refusing to cooperate.
Zini: The smallest of Raisa's three moons.
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World In My Claws
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Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Chapter 1
|
Summary: Jyothky and her fellow dragons were supposed to have a nice simple mating flight on Hove. Instead they got tangled up in everything — accidentally conquering a sophisticated, unwilling country, unleashing an undead god upon an innocent city, discovering horrible mind-controlling parasites, an invasion by some of their older and more powerful friends, and massive violations of draconic etiquette. How can they possibly get out of this with their honor or even their hides intact?
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
View of a Rebellion (Day 126)
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"Your homes, your jobs, your families, to them you must return while you still live! The flames, they are ready to harm you!" Llredh circled the rioters so low that his wingtips furrowed the crowd. He kept his hukuchô curled up high in the astral plane, so that they would disperse intentionally or not at all.
"Monsters of evil! Spawn of the anti-gods! Go back to Garchune! Lady of Peppers prepares a woeful soup for your punishment!" yelled Dr. Sband. He had been delivering an incendiary sermon proclaiming that our conquest of Trest was illegal, illegitimate, and evil. (He was wrong. I'm pretty sure it was actually legal.) Grands upon grands of hovens packed Marmelane Square to hear him, and a half-dozen other speakers: brave loyalists to the former regime, or firebrands and rabblerousers, depending on your point of view.
Llredh laughed, a deep booming laugh from his throat and his wings that must have rattled every window in Churry City. "Threats of imaginary spirits, these do not impress me! Threats of riots, these do not impress me either. Burn your city down if you like! You shall not get another!"
I was circling far over Llredh's head. This conquest is his idea. He can do all the work — and if there are any rewards from it, those are his too, to share with his husband if he wants. But Ythac had asked me to go with Llredh and keep him and Churry City safe. The hovens still had some weapons that could kill a dragon, here and there, and Llredh's dangersense isn't much better than my sense of touch.
The crowd didn't seem to have any serious weapons, or not the martial kind at any rate. They weren't there to fight us, anyway. They weren't even expecting us to be there; after all, we'd been in Perstra the capital three hours ago.
The crowd's weapons were the different kind, and they wore them as their clothes. By the stage two dozen judges listened to Sband, the balance-emblems on their flat-caps damp with the drizzle. Beyond them, a half-grand of hovens who were wearing the striped teal uniform of Churry City's civil service, with abacus pendants for the accountants, wire circles for the gendarmes, black bottles for the secretaries, and so on. Behind them was a squad of ritual musicians, a company of refuse-takers, a brigade of shopkeepers, a legion of students. Without their labors, Churry City would be ungovernable and all but unliveable.
Dr. Sband didn't quite seem to understand the powers at his command, though. So he invoked some powers which weren't his to command, and, as far as I could tell, didn't exist at all. "You are arrogant, you are foolish, you overreach yourself! Bmern and Drukah will bring destructions to you!"
Llredh didn't understand what opposed him, either. He roared, "My might, you doubt her? My ruthlessness, you doubt her? Your country, she is the present for my wife Ythac! I do not tolerate disobedience towards Ythac! Dispersal and obedience, these are your protections from me! Silly gods, fake gods, not so much so!"
"They are serious gods, real gods! You will discover this soon, to your harm!"
Llredh arched his head back, as one does when one is about to breathe powerfully. I squealed at him, "Stop! Don't do that!" He ignored me, of course. His flames covered the stage and splashed further, scorching judges, singing accountants and gendarmes and secretaries, heating the face-fur of musicians and refuse-takers and shopkeepers. He wasn't trying to kill them very much though. He uses tighter, hotter fire on his friends.
The stage burned, where it was wood. Hoven clothes and fur burned. Trestean flags set around the stage burned. (We hadn't yet replaced the Trestean flag, but the hovens were using it as a symbol of opposition to us.) The hovens on the stage fled if they could, but a dozen of them couldn't. The hovens in the audience mostly fled too. Of course, Marmelane Square doesn't have very good exits, so some of them fled and some of them fell and got trampled by the others' hooves.
Llredh boomed, "Who can stand against me? There is no hoven, there is no dragon, there is no god on Hove who can! Peaceful submission to me, she alone is your hope and your survival!" This was a bit of a boast past truth. Csirnis and Llredh are fairly evenly matched.
Rather more practically, I swooped down and landed on the stage. Or tried to; my left hindleg was on the wooden part, the burning wooden part, and fell through. No great matter, really. I swept the fallen hovens off the burning part of the stage, and started putting the Arcane Anodyne into them.
"Jyothky! Your chore, what is she, why is she? These people, they opposed me, they are dying! What could be simpler? There is nothing, there can be nothing!" he said in Grand Draconic. (Actually he talks normally in Grand Draconic, I've just made it sound like the way he usually talks.)
"Ythac asked me to keep you from destroying Churry City too much. That includes not killing all the people."
"My breath, I rendered her moderate! Those who die, they are few in number and circumscribed! The rest, they learn!"
"You're better off letting them accept your rulership and live. Says Ythac, not just me."
"Will they live?" Llredh landed nearby, on the stone pavement of the square.
"I'm not that bad with healing spells, on hovens. I've had lots of practice, fixing Tarcuna after I killed her cyoziworm," I reminded him.
He roared and struck the pavement with his tail, so that it crazed and shattered. "The worm, the worm, the vile worm! I do not forget the worm! Soon, soon must I pacify Trest! For my wife, yes, but for my revenge too!"
I scooped up another struggling hoven. A minister or something, it's hard to tell after their clothes are burned off. "Why are you calling Ythac your wife, Llredh? He's a boy. You're both boys." They're on the "perverts" side of the mating flight. I'm on the "cripples" side, myself.
"Hah! Last night we have the mount-fight, only without the fighting. The love, that is easy with Ythac. But the sex, there are many choices, some nights we want to not be so careful. The quick game of cards, we play her, that is our mount-fight! Ythac loses. So he is my wife again. So often he is!"
"I don't see how you can pretend to have the least bit of honor, if that's how you carry on."
"The gambling debt, what is more honorable than keeping her?"
"You picked the stakes, though. It wasn't like an open-ended gamble with a small person, where you didn't expect to lose and you get surprised by the result."
"No, it was not that," said Llredh. "Zṥràsḫiọ źó Hrašśiǒ" Politeness is lightness.
"Right. Well, the next time I ask a question like that, just look mysterious and superior and don't tell me the nasty little answer."
Ythac's the Horizonal Quill wrote words in my mind. "Llredh broke up the demonstration already, didn't he?"
"Yes. One cloud of fire, and they all ran off. I'm healing the ringleaders now. You did want them healed, didn't you?"
"Oh, thank you! Could you make sure they don't run off before I get them arrested? I'd ask Llredh, but he'd probably sit on them."
"He's not very happy with them, or with me."
"He likes you just fine," Ythac wrote.
"Right. I was his third-favorite girl in the mating flight." Which is, of course, calling Ythac a girl, just like Llredh did. I was annoyed at both of them though.
"I really am trying to get you to be friends with each other."
"I'd be a lot happier being his friend if he weren't fireblasting crowds of hovens. Or torturing hovens. Or conquering hovens."
"That's just an excuse. You've killed nearly as many hovens as he has. Your moral superiority over my husband is pretty scanty." Ythac wrote.
"I don't torture people or steal their countries," I answered. If you are ever in an ethical discussion and that's your best response, you've pretty much lost. So I healed the last couple of hovens on the stage. They weren't exactly very scorched; they'd run up to see if they could help the speakers, and sort of gotten trapped between Llredh and me.
"And neither of you reanimates dead mhelvul paingods and doesn't take proper care of them and lets them take over major cities, like your fiancé Osoth," wrote Ythac. "I don't think any of us are in a particularly strong moral position at this point. I think we've got to stay around here for a gross-year or two. Long enough to give the hovens all the benefits of proper draconic rule. By way of apology for all the chaos and devastation we've given them so far, even if you're not much of an Uplifter."
"We've certainly got plenty to apologize for, and I think I'm getting to be an Uplifter." I agreed. "I'm not sure that Llredh's style of enforcing rule is going to give us less to apologize for, though." Dangersense mumbled of a minor threat off from a corner of the square. "Sorry, Ythac, I've got to go. Someone's shooting at us."
"Thanks, Jyothky!" Ythac wrote.
A purple-furred hoven woman was running across the mostly-empty plaza towards us, holding a big ray gun. When I turned to look at her, she stopped running and pointed it at me. I swatted it out of her hands with a wingtip. She raced after it, shouting, "You killed my husband!"
"I did?" I asked, and breathed lightning on the ray gun before she could get to it. She hadn't been lying, but I hadn't killed anyone in a while. At least three or four weeks.
"He's in the street over there! He fell while everyone was running, and nobody stopped to help him up, they just ran all over him, and you killed him!"
"The error, she comes here with a ray gun!" said Llredh. "The dragons, they did not kill your husband. The hovens, they killed him."
So I bit his tail.
"What is that for, Jyothky?"
I waddled towards the edge of the square. A dozen or so hovens were lying trampled and bloody by each street out of the plaza, with a few less-injured ones trying to tend them here and there. "Which one is your husband?"
She pointed. Her husband was quite mangled, marked with the prints of many hooves. His right eye was smashed, and many bones broken here and there. "He's not quite dead though." I put the Arcane Anodyne into him. Twice, because the first one didn't fill him.
He moaned, and tried to sit up. Which wasn't a very good idea. A few barely-healed bones broke again, from the sound of it. So I got his wife to make him lie down again, and put another the Arcane Anodyne into him, and some of the slow healing spells. And then did the other injured hovens, because that seemed fair.
And then the gendarmes came. They weren't particularly racing to the square all full of obedience to their beloved draconic overlords. But Ythac had been intimidating the gendarmes chief, rather more gently than Llredh had been intimidating the crowd, and had persuaded him of the obvious truism that the citizens of Churry City would be better off if they enforced the dragons' decrees rather than making the dragons do it themselves.
The hovens at my corner were quiet and subdued. Maybe I was mollifying them by healing their wounded, or maybe they remembered that I had destroyed the Peace Everywhere Array more or less single-handedly. The gendarmes put the husband and a few others of the injured on stretchers, and arrested the wife and some of the other helpers.
"Why are you arresting them?" I asked of the lieutenant or whatever in charge.
The lieutenant looked away from me. "Gendarme chief said to arrest the people in the square."
"Probably mostly the ones on the stage," I said.
The lieutenant looked over to where Llredh was towering over some previously-grilled speakers. "Um... Chief said everyone. We gotta do everyone. Starting with these, I guess." He and his men started asking many, many questions to the people they had captured. "We gotta be thorough. Chief said so."
On the other side of the square, matters weren't so peaceful. The uninjured audience members were yelling at the gendarmes who were trying to arrest them. The argument had a few salient and intellectually substantial points:
The audience members were assisting some injured people. (Quiet gendarme answer: their medics will take care of them.)
The audience members committed no crime. (Morose gendarme answer: Chief said to arrest you.)
The audience members are loyal Tresteans; the gendarmes are collaborators. (Miserable gendarme answer: Archons say the dragons are in charge. What're we gonna do?)
So I waddled over and healed their injured people as best as I could, which helped on point 1 a lot. I didn't really have much of an answer for points 2 or 3. The dragons in charge are Ythac and Llredh. It's their territory, I'm just a guest trying to be helpful.
To my best friend, his horrible husband, and his vast empire of exceedingly unhappy subjects. This is getting to be a problem.
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World In My Claws
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Bard Bloom
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[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Rituals of Conquest (Day 144)
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Some days, we seem to be drowning Trest in a sea of blood and flame. That's perfectly normal. Other days, like today, we're trying to drown it in a sea of dramaturgy. I suppose I should worry more about the blood and flame.
Tarcuna woke me up in her customary manner of these days. Specifically, by picking her Dragon-Taming Staff — which is a length of steel drain pipe to which she has attached some heavy hand-sized bells and cloth streamers — and thumping my eye with it until the noise or the danger woke me up. (If the staff isn't at hand, she'll use a chair or something, which works just as well.) She has realized that I am not going to kill her for any but the gravest of reasons, and exploits that mercilessly.
"I'm not asleep, I'm awake," I said, in tediously non-rhyming Trestean.
"It's humiliate-the-Tresteans day. Ceremony's in a little over an hour," she said.
I twisted my head around and glared at my body, which was still small and tubby and flat black. "Oh, that's right. I'd better get ready then."
"I don't suppose you'll let me out of it?" she asked.
"You might be part of the Diplomatic Brigate of old Trest, in which case you belong there for one reason. Otherwise, you're part of my retinue. Actually you're all of my retinue, and I certainly want you there."
"Everyone watching will think I've sold my country," she said.
"Which isn't so far off," I said. "At least you got a good price."
"You are unbearably comforting sometimes," she said. "At least I had the foresight to attach myself to you by unbreakable bonds before the conquest."
I slithered out of my tent — Ythac had acquired some big tents for the dragons to sleep in — and started shapeshifting a row of curved spikes down my back. "You can leave any time you like, as far as I'm concerned. I'd be sorry to see you go of course. But I don't really need a hoven prostitute very much, much less a retired one."
"Only if you send me away again," she said. "It's not just the side effects of getting freed. You've conveniently made me the enemy of honest and loyal people everywhere."
"I'm honest! I'm loyal!" I noted, while I gave myself a triple rack of black lyre-shaped horns. Impractical as anything, but they ought to be pretty.
"'People' means the sort of people you call 'hovens'. We don't even like that name," said Tarcuna. She got out a cosmetic kit, and started tinting her ears blue. She muttered, "If I'm a political whore, I might as well dress the part."
"Beg pardon?"
"Decent people do not wear bright blue ear-dye to formal events, as my parents were very careful to tell me several dozen times," said Tarcuna. "But I am doing it anyway. In case anyone might possibly wonder whether I consider myself decent."
I don't know what to do about her when she's in that sort of mood. So I made her do something useful instead. "Well, I want to look proper. Do I?"
She stared up at me. "Tilt your head right... turn a bit... No, your horns on the left are a lot closer than on the right."
I fixed them, and checked with a scrying spell. "Ah. Thank you."
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World In My Claws
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Bard Bloom
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[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
The Stone of Merraro
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Behind the great cathedral of Merraro is a glorified and very sacred shed. It's decorated like a chapel itself, with carved illustrations of the benevolent suns and some mythical angels and whatnots. It's lit by (as of yesterday) thirty-eight big oil lamps with the flags of the nations that merged into Trest. But it's still a big shed, for storing a big rock.
And it is, indeed, rather a big rock. It is almost rectangular except for a long spike on the top right, making it about the length of my neck total, and half that wide, and a nice solid two or three feet thick. It's a pretty grey color, with faint swirly spirals of darker grey shot through with golden sparkles of pyrite. And, according to the guidebooks, in days that Trest thought more glorious, Archconsul Nespers — who was a stonemason in her youth — carved the first treaty establishing Trest. "For amity, for loyalty, — for glory, for peace, for civilization, we do freely and gloriously unite together and form the country of Trest. Pleovar, Ventelia, Greater Naspen,..." Thirty-eight names are carved in the stone, seven of them by Nespers' hand. (I don't know why the guidebook says that; hoven hands don't have claws to speak of. I'm sure she used tools.) The rest came later, as other countries joined Trest. I don't know who carved them though.
Lots of people — both kinds of people — had been collected to observe the fate of the big rock. Lawmakers and treasurers and generals, wearing their greatest finery, with silken cords binding their hands to their necks. Reporters for newspapers and television stations. Hated and hateful the event would surely be, but a thoroughly-documented hatefulness. Dozens of gendarmes, wearing new blue and orange spiked caps. And of course the seven former consuls of former Trest were there. They didn't get to wear their finery though. They wore leather yokes, with heavy chains trailing behind.
And us, of course: the seven remaining dragons, all looking as glorious as possible. "Ythac, why aren't you making a point of having seven dragons and seven consuls?" I asked him.
"Couldn't think of anything sensible to do with it. If you five had asked to rule Trest under us, I might have done something with it. Since you're not planning to help us, or even stay past the end of the mating flight, I didn't want to make you seem like crucial symbolic elements to the dracarchy." Ythac's mental letters were jerky, the points on the "i" and "f" tall and spiky. But I couldn't tell that he was nervous just to look at him. He was a sculpture of delicate blues and greens, his natural spikes augmented by secondary ruffs, staring monumentally at the hovens. Llredh, next to Ythac, grinned a huge predatory grin, and curled his tail over Ythac's.
The chief of gendarmes gestured at the lawmakers with her baton. Most of the lawmakers dropped to their knees and recited in a loud ragged unison, "We are gathered today to surrender our empire to Llredh and Ythac our conquerors." Two of them, more battered than most, refused to kneel and chant. The chief gestured. Two frozen-faced gendarmes picked their way through the surrenderers. They tied cords of catgut around the arms of the resisters, and twisted them slowly. The others finished their recitation, and then started it again, quietly, as a background obbligato to the rest of the ritual.
Llredh roared. "Let Archconsul Shuvanne bring forth the ancient symbols of Trestean unity, so that we may revise it to show the reality that is now, and evermore shall be!" He had obviously been rehearsing too, or that would have come out in his usual twisty speech.
Gendarmes unrolled the chains that trailed off the backs of the consuls' harnesses, and carried them into the shed, and hooked them into seven hooks in the front of a cart. Someone surreptitiously started a little motor, too: the Stone of Merraro was far too heavy for seven unathletic hovens to drag. But the consuls had to do a good deal of the work.
The leaders of Trest wept when the Stone of Merraro rolled out of the shed. One of the two who had resisted fell to his knees then, and the catgut was untied from his arms, and he joined the chant.
Ythac reared on his hind legs, and spread his glorious blue wings. "Hovens of Trest! Your former rulers were fonts of wickedness! They stole from you the admiration that all of Hove once had, and replaced it by universal fear and resentment! They took your money and your peace and your children, and built weapons and tried to impose their will upon the whole of the world. You poured forth your blood and your labor, and all that came to you was hatred and strife! At last, in their arrogance and blindness, the consuls challenged the world-travellers, the world-conquerors, the dragons. Such a thing could not endure, and has not endured."
"And today the supremacy of the consuls is over. Today my husband and I shall rule you. Today is the beginning of peace, of harmony, of prosperity and joy."
Ythac and Llredh reared their heads back and breathed together upon the Stone of Merraro, darkness and flame. I wasn't entirely sure that darkness and flame were the best symbols of peace, harmony, prosperity, and joy. Speaking as a fire-breather myself.
Llredh's fire neatly melted the top spike off the top of the Stone. That sort of evened it out, which will do for a symbol of harmony, I suppose. The crunch of the spike falling back and breaking the wall of the shed sure won't.
I don't think the hovens noticed the result of Ythac's darkness at first. A few seconds later Tarcuna wailed, "The words! The words!"
The Stone now read, "For agony, for legality, for humiliation, for passivity, for submission, we are compelled to deliver the unity of Trest into the claws of Ythac and Llredh."
"I didn't know you could pervert meanings with that," I wrote to him.
"It's like causing grammatical errors, only semantic. I did cheat a bit with a language spell though," he wrote back.
And then the ritual got exceedingly dull. Ythac had composed a Charter for the Dracarchy of Trest. It was generally based on the Charter of the Consularchy of Trest, except that Ythac and Llredh, each, have absolute authority to do whatever they want. Mostly, though, the hovens are expected to govern themselves, as long as they do so wisely in Ythac's opinion. Not the sort of ûj you might expect.
The only part that was the least bit interesting was when the last remaining resister needed to get his arm amputated. I broke the script a bit and put a healing spell into him afterwards.
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World In My Claws
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Bard Bloom
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[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Coda: Conquest Party
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Afterwards, of course, there was a big reception in the huge public square in front of the cathedral. Everyone at the ritual had to attend the reception too, of course. Only a handful of Merrarovians came, and they mostly didn't eat very much and didn't look very happy.
But Ythac and Llredh did pick up a gaggle of hovens, eager to chatter with them, to flatter them, to offer their services. I only recognized the chief of gendarmes. So I asked Tarcuna, "Who are those people?"
"I don't know many of them. The one with the red stripes and the red cape is named Uborst. His picture's in the paper sometimes, he does a lot with politics. The one next to him is Larella Spargee. She's very rich, she gave a great deal to Archconsul Shuvanne. I don't know the others... oh, that one with the green and pink globes is Reverend Dreyrey.. He's in some strange sect or other, he's on television a lot. We always changed the channel when he started talking."
"Well, I'm glad that some important people look like they want to cooperate with Ythac and Llredh. They're going to have an awful time trying to govern a huge nation by force, just the two of them," I said.
"People who attach themselves to the dragons aren't going to be people you'd want to rely on. Anyone with any principles or moral integrity is going to oppose you. Even if you cut their arms off," said Tarcuna. She flopped her useless arm.
"I'm sure Ythac can get them to behave decently," I said. "They can't really keep secrets from Ythac, and people like that are surely going to be particularly cowardly and susceptable to threats of violence."
"Have I been paraded around in public enough yet? I'm the only Trestean citizen lucky enough not to be surrendering to Llredh and Ythac today. Even if that's because you already got me."
Well, since I do have her, I have to take care of her. "You can go home if you want. I'm going to stay here 'til the end of the reception though."
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World In My Claws
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Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
The Best Food On Hove (reprise) (Day 148)
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We — the mating flight, plus Tarcuna — have been staying in Perspeckle, by the Quenjo Wastes. The hovens here are not terribly happy with us. They are mostly soldiers, or the families and friends of soldiers. They hate the drakes quite reasonably and (uninvolved) Arilash and me quite unreasonably for killing so many of their comrades in our abortive war. They hate all of us (quite unreasonably) for the dragons who are not us conquering their country. Oh, and they hate me (quite reasonably) for destroying the Peace Everywhere Array, with which they could have won the war.
I am beginning to understand my parents a bit more. When they first conquered Mhel, all the mhelvul hated them too. I can smell the hatred when I fly low over Perspeckle. I have taken to flying with my mouth closed, which helps some.
They don't dare disobey us, though. Not when they remember how easily the drakes destroyed their best-prepared army.
Darrir came to my barn this morning. Darrir is a former Social Warfare specialist of the former Army of former Trest. He regularly tries to make some of those less 'former'. So I greeted him with, "Good morning, Darrir. What's the sedition of the day?"
He looked a bit pained. "Today, you have a phone call."
"I do? Not Tarcuna?" Tarcuna spends time on the phone each day with friends in Dorday. I have at most seven friends on Hove, five of whom are close at hand, the sixth can write messages on my mind whenever he likes, and the seventh is Llredh, who isn't much of a friend and could get Ythac to write to me if he wanted to. So I've never gotten a phone call.
He held out a sophisticated technological telephone thing to me. I wasn't quite sure what to do with it, since I'd probably poke a hole through it when I pushed the 'talk' button, so I made Darrir work it. It was awkward.
"Hallo?" Which is the traditional way you talk on the phone, I think.
"Hallo, Joffee. I'm Churdle, you ate a vask on the farm, then we gave you some chili and troublecakes," said a scratchy little voice missing all the high and low tones.
"Yes, you had something wrong with your polysthegides and Fralian nodes. I put the Arcane Anodyne into you... did it work?"
"Well, it worked, I don't have Moray-Lagrozo Syndrome any more, thanks for that," he said scratchily.
"You sound rather miserable," I said, because he did. "What's biting your tail?" But of course he doesn't have a tail.
"Well, you see, mister dragon, we'd taken some pictures of you and showed them all 'round. And we spoke well of you, telling everyone all around what you'd done with the healing and all. We were grateful, me 'specially," he said. Which was mostly true, I think, though it's harder to alethiocept over the phone.
"Well, that's all fair, it sounds like," I said.
"But then you go and smash our army and conquer our country..."
I motioned to Darrir to mash the 'talk' button. "I didn't! That was Llredh. Except the Peace Everywhere Array."
"Well, mister dragon," said the farmer, who evidently didn't get a very good look at me. I suppose it was dark in the barn. But if I argued with everything, I wouldn't get much of a conversation. "My neighbors, they don't quite fuss about which of you did which piece of it. And it's not a friendly place to live when everyone thinks you're a dragon-lover."
Which was astounding. "Dragon lover? Just what have you been telling people that you've done with me? Or who was it?" But that's not what he meant — for which I am very glad — he meant "partisan of the dragons".
"Anyhow, my neighbors aren't so happy with us now. Coming around with rifles and clubs, is how not happy they are. I hid behind the woodpile. They shot Looskie dead, though, and a few of the others are bad hurt. Basanne, she's got a big hole in her belly. She's the one who cooked that chili for you. And the doctor, he won't come by our farm any more. Except he did last night, he was one with a rifle. Could you come here and heal her, like you did for me?"
Troublesome hovens. Always killing each other and then asking you to take care of things. Well, in a few duodecades Ythac will surely set things right. In the meantime... "Ythac? Mind if I go heal some farmers by Churry City?"
"Hi, Jyothky. Go right ahead."
"I'll owe you the tribute, OK?"
"If you keep insisting on the formal etiquette, I am going to bite your tail seven times," he wrote.
"Just being polite, you prickle drake!" I told him. "Certainly. I'll be there in, oh, perhaps five-twelfths of an hour."
"Thank you kindly, sir dragon," he said.
I got the Melismatic Tempest and a bit of teasing from Arilash, and flew for Churry City.
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World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
How to Heal a Farmer
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Churdle's farm was looking a bit chewed around the edges, when I got there. A shed was in ashes, and the glass windows on the farmhouse were smashed and replaced by something that smelled like oiled paper. Which didn't seem like a very good defense against fire, really. Hovens aren't very good at tactics.
Five rather grim and rather injured farmers met me. I squeaked, "Hallo, Churdle, Joffinet, Marfy, all the rest!" Fortunately I had remembered to reread Day 48 so I remembered some of the names.
Misremembered, rather. Churdle said quietly, "Joffee's inside, on the couch. Can you help her, too?" I had to shrink to not much bigger than a horse to get inside, and that took some squirming, but I didn't want to look any less impressive than I had to. The black-timbered farmhouse was a mess. They used to have shelves of china statues, intricate clocks, glass teapots, but they had been smashed to the ground, and swept in piles in the corners of the sitting room.
Three badly wounded hovens lay on the couches, shivering with fear and stinking with rotting wounds. Joffinet, who was about adolescent, had bullet holes in one leg, one arm, and one shoulder. Basanne, Joffinet's mother, had been shot in the intestines and not cleaned up very well, and looked and smelled as if she was going to die in a few hours. "Oh, that's not good," I said, and started putting the Arcane Anodyne into them. So much for the wounds.
Basanne and my definitely-not-namesake rubbed at their sides and arms, where they had smooth skin and flat fur where they had just had holes and septicemia. They thanked me for a while, but the only part I remember is Basanne apologizing for not having any delicacies to feed me. To which the only answer was, "Oh, don't worry about it. I had breakfast this morning; last time I hadn't eaten for two days."
There was a mumble of light danger and a rumble of light engines from the driveway. The farmers looked scared, and scrabbled around to find rifles and an old sabre. Hooves clattered on the stone walkway, and deep voices growled, "Dragon-lovers! What'd you do, call your friend back?"
I stuck my head out the doorway. "I'm the only dragon-lover here, and I think I'm allowed."
A dozen or so angry and poorly-armed hovens glared at me. "Dragon! Monster! Defiler of our country! We kill you now!"
They raised their guns, which, as noted above, mumbled light danger.
I reached out with my wings to sweep the guns out of their hands. Nothing happened; my wings didn't get to them. I turned my head to look, and realized that all of me except the head was inside the house. My wings had hit the doorframe and I didn't feel it. I am such an idiot. Or at least not used to fighting indoors.
And by the time I had figured that out, they had put a dozen bullets into my head and neck.
I glared at them. This was going to be awkward. "Ythac? Some of your hovens are shooting at me."
"I'm sure it's just a celebratory display or something," he wrote back.
"I wish so. They started out by saying, 'We kill you now!' I am sorry, Ythac. Oh, they just shot me some more."
"Are you hurt? I know you can't always tell." So I had to check, but I wasn't much. "What did you do to them?" he asked. So I had to explain.
"No real choice," he wrote. "Kill them and their families."
"You're the ruler!" I scribbled back. "You're in charge of justice! You do it!"
"Look: you antagonized them. You execute them."
"I was just healing some of your other hovens! I was doing you a favor, having your subjects not die, contributing to the prosperity of your realm and generally being a good guest!"
"Interfering in a local dispute without asking me first! My, Jyothky, I do believe I have caught you in a violation of etiquette finally!" The fifth volley hit me in the left eye.
"All right, all right. Where are their families, anyway?" I answered, because I really was feeling bad about being so rude to him.
"One minute."
So I healed my eye, and killed the attacking farmers with forky lightning. Carefully; I didn't want to break the farm any more than it already was. The friendly farmers howled. "Are any of you hurt?" I asked them, but they weren't. "I have an errand to do, I'm afraid. Killing their families; that's the punishment for attacking a dragon without permission." They wailed incoherently.
I didn't have far to fly; it was Churdle's neighbors who had been punishing him. A bit of flame, a bit of lightning, and two wives, one husband, six children, and various assorted livestock were dead as required by the oldest of draconic laws. The farmhouse next beyond that was a bit bigger, and eleven more people died for the crimes of their families.
The rest came from an old manor a mile away, a big house of stone and brick and black timbers on top of a hill, all surrounded by almond trees and gardens. The house shimmered upside-down in a reflecting pond by the front walk, where elegant blue-scaled fish swam. It smelled of roses, more than Perstra, even. Two children played at hoops on a gravel path. A heavy breath of flame roasted everyone in it alive, though I didn't bother with the children outside. They ran away screaming, and I suppose they survived or something.
By then I was furious. At Ythac for making me do his justice. At the neighbors for attacking me and making me kill them. At Churdle for calling me in. At myself for not squirming my whole tubby body out of the farmhouse when the danger came. At my great-to-the-whatever grandparents for making a horrible law like that. At everyone, really.
So I breathed on the manor again and again. The wood in the walls burned, and the almond trees and aromatic bushes all around. The stone glowed red, then white, and then slumped and pooled as so much magma. I switched to ice breath, then, and the magma froze and cracked and exploded. I alternated, heavier and heavier breaths each time. When the flame came, the stone spattered and boiled. When the frore came, the stone froze and shattered.
"Jyothky? What on Hove are you doing to that building?" Ythac's writing was small and precise, apologetic.
Well, there's no breathing at him across the Horizonal Quill. "I promised that I'd crunch your wings up and then forgive you for, what was it, promising to marry me and then choosing another boy instead, remember?"
"You promised, but you've never done it yet. Want to now?"
"Yes. Where are you, Perstra?"
"Yes, but I don't want to be seen getting chomped in public and not fighting back. I'm a very dignified ruler. Can I join you in Perspeckle?"
"Yes," He owns Perspeckle anyway.
|
World In My Claws
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Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Chapter 8
|
I didn't get around to it, though, because I got there much before Ythac did.
"Sacred suns, Jyothky, what happened to you?" squeaked Tarcuna. My brave and helpful fiancés were bravely and helpfully off cavorting with my rival.
"I got into a fight with some farmers. Outside Churry City."
"What did they do to you?"
"Shot me, died. About what you'd expect."
"What did they shoot you with?" She made me look at my face in a mirror. I was all over a'a.
"Oh, that's just shards and scoria. I got a bit upset at a stone building afterwards."
"Put your head down here." She started prying bits of rock-splatter off of me with her one good arm. "Tell me what happened. You sound angry and miserable."
"I was just going there to heal a friend... she's a good cook..." and on and on, I probably whined at her half an hour, lying on my back, until Ythac got there. I didn't bite him even once, though. I just lay there and let the two of them clean the ruin off my face.
"I'm going to transport those farmers," Ythac proclaimed regally. "Move them halfway across the country to a new farm, and nobody will know who they are or why to hate them."
I have the best friends in Hove.
Which would mean a lot more if I, personally, weren't the worst friend in Hove.
|
World In My Claws
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Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Coda: New Alignments
|
Nrararn was rather surprised to see Ythac tending me, and poked him with his sparky twirly horn until he slithered aside and let Nrararn groom me instead. Which is fine. Nrararn is a sweet little drake, and one that I actually could marry, and might. And I think he'd let me, for some reason that I cannot begin to understand.
He dug a bullet out of my inner eyelid. "You didn't have the beautiful Uplifter day, it looks like, Jyothky?"
"Not very Uplifty at all, actually," I said. "Well, I tried to." And had to tell the whole story to the mating flight.
Arilash shook her head. "When you spend too much time around small people, you start getting tangled in small people concerns and small people feelings and small people fights. Sorry, Tarcuna, but it's true."
"Says the dragoness as she apologizes to the offended hoven," noted Ythac.
Arilash airily lashed him with her tailtip. "It's true, though, and you will see it in great awful clawfuls as you rule Trest. When we're too close to them, we get all involved, and usually small people die from it. My parents were all political with their mhelvul, and kept having to execute this one for embezzling, or that one for threatening to sic Mother on his rivals, or the other one for being too harsh an overlord. And both my parents are the upliftiest Uplifters on Mhel."
Osoth cocked his head. "To exhume this matter with a somewhat hypothetical air, albeit with an inadequate armamentarium of other hypothetical implements, which alignment might you subscribe to? You have just cast the effulgence of your intellect upon the bitter entanglements of the Uplifters. Yet that executionary act which spatters your speech with regret is one which Downcrushers do not deign to dread."
Arilash peered at me. "Did he just say 'yes'? I couldn't tell." I sort of blinked miserably at her. Nrararn took the opportunity to clean some nonexistent scoria off the tip of my muzzle, so I obviously couldn't talk even if I had wanted to. (I hereby award a fiancé point to Nrararn for cleverness and another for kindness. Unfortunately my tally is weeks and weeks completely out of date.)
Arilash sat on her haunches, and groomed her left talon a bit. She quietly said, "Neither one suits me very well. There are all sorts of choices in the society of dragons which don't suit me. Decent or slutty? Married or single? Uplifter or Downcrusher? Drake or dragoness, for that matter, though that's not so much a choice as just a dichotomy. Why can't I make up a new affiliation? Overflyer, let me call it. I'll fly over the small people, I'll tend to my matters, and let them tend to theirs. Everyone will be better off. Jyothky, you can come with me." She sounded kind when she said that. Actually I think I was the only one paying the least bit of attention to mating flight etiquette in the whole conversation.
I just whiffled a bit, noncommittally. I mostly like small people, despite winding up killing them constantly.
Csirnis reared his head. "I agree that the choices on that dichotomy are unfortunate. Uplifter or Downcrusher, yes, but either way we are the rulers. If one has no love of governing, neither choice brings delight."
Nrararn rose to the bait. "No love of governing, perhaps. But who shall tend the herds of cattle you and your mate and your spawn will require? Who shall weave and sew your tents? Who shall build your home? Or do you wish to live in a cave and chase boars and wild whales to eat?"
"I don't know how to live the way I want," grumbled Arilash. "Not about small people, and not about other things, either."
Csirnis curled his tail over his forepaws, and looked more superior than he usually does. "In Ze Cheya, during the still-unfinished game of Hide and Seek..."
"I found you all," said Ythac.
"...In the just-finished game of Hide and Seek, then, I experimented with a different approach. If Arilash calls hers Overflying, I shall call mine Withdwelling. I lived in Ze Cheya, in a home that the hovens gave to me, and I ate some quite delicious roast oxen and such that the hovens cooked for me, and I hoarded treasures ranging from amusing to exceptional that the hovens gave me as gifts. And, at the time, the hovens were glad to do all of that. I labored for them, you see. I was not terribly different from the cook at the noodle shop across from my home. I would happily live that way again. It gripes my conscience less than any other way I have lived, and provided for my comfort just as well."
The rest of us looked dubious. Arilash said, "The aftermath gripes my conscience, and, with apologies to Jyothky's little Tarcuna and exactly no other small person anywhere, I don't even care about hovens."
"Mine as well, dear Arilash," Csirnis answered. "I have not mastered life yet. Still, the root causes of Greshthanu's death and the destruction of Ze Cheya were largely outside of my attempt at Withdwelling."
Ythac huffed and glared. "I count myself as a traditional Uplifter. I rule Trest, and I will yet make Trest as close to a utopia as I can manage."
"You are more ambitious than I am!"
"For the sake of symmetry, then, I shall proclaim myself a Downcrusher," said Osoth.
Nrararn stared at him. "Whenever I turn my back, you fly off to do archaeology and necromancy with a research expedition full of hovens."
"We all have our little hobbies, Nrararn," hissed Osoth.
"Distinctly uncrushed hovens," Nrararn noted.
"And sometimes our little hobbies get in the way of our nominal philosophical positions," Osoth hissed smoothly.
"I'm the Downcrusher here," I mumbled. "I killed five dozen hovens today."
"And you sound so pleased with yourself for it," said Tarcuna.
"I didn't want to!"
Nrararn flomped a wing over my back, which would be comforting if I could feel it. "You're not a Downcrusher. You're just willing to do what needs to be done, when the rest of us are a bit too squeamish." (Three fiancé points to Nrararn for the day.)
I sprawled against him, and listened to Arilash and Csirnis debate impossible philosophical positions.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Back To The Mating Flight (Day 150)
|
After the conquest was made official in the eyes of... um... I'm not sure that anyone but Llredh and Ythac would consider it official, if them... the rest of us took to the air and fluttered around and tried to figure out what to do.
"Csirnis found us a very nice city," I said. "A shame it got broken."
"They might take us back," said Csirnis. "We didn't entirely make ourselves unwelcome."
"I have no great desire to spend every morning healing hovens," said Osoth. "Especially if they are not my own hovens."
I thought about Tarcuna, and Churdle and others. "We'll get better service from the hovens if they think we're good to have around."
"I exemplify this principle more cogently than you, Jyothky! Do you not remember how eager the archaeologists at the Prevalian Tombs greeted me?" said Osoth. Obnoxious beast.
Nrararn laughed and shook sparks out of his mane. "Or better service still if they fear us. We could help Ythac and Llredh rule Trest for a while."
"Llredh may be my spirit-brother in many ways. But I do not want to rule any country," said Arilash. "Not that I will complain when Jyothky helps her spirit-brother."
"I frequently engage in commerce — and, indeed, in repartée — with actual spirits. I confess myself unaware of the means by which two dragons may be siblings in a necromantic sense," said the obnoxious beast.
Arilash puffed smoke towards Osoth. "Just a metaphor I picked up from some hovens."
Osoth puffed deadly dust back towards Arilash. "A metaphor based on a wholly inaccurate understanding of their own spiritual nature, to say nothing of yours! Such a metaphor can do you no good. You must breathe upon it quickly!"
Arilash laughed. "You'd never have argued back when the mating flight started. Ready access to claspers is already distorting your judgment!"
"Bah. When the mating flight started, I had little hope of ending up with a mate. That is no longer such a bitter concern, for several regrettable but not in all instances regretted reasons. Obsequiousness is no longer a dire necessity!"
Arilash stared at him. "Does this mean you won't be doing the hunting and cooking any more?"
Osoth coughed a poisonous cloud. "Cooking was never my greatest pride, also for several regrettable but not in all instances regretted reasons. I should hope that, for the remainder of the mating flight, grateful and slightly intimidated hovens will rejoice to provide us with provender."
"He said no," I translated.
Arilash smirked. "I'll rejoice in that bit, at least. Does it mean you won't be constantly challenging each other over who gets to mate with me next?"
"Perhaps you and Jyothky could challenge each other over who gets to mate with me," said Osoth. "Or at least with the suspiciously silent golden-scaled abdicationer flying insufficiently far off to be utterly outside of the conversation."
Csirnis turned his head to look at Arilash. "For my part, I shall observe the traditional forms as best as possible. I have no wish to be rude or dishonorable."
I called to him, "I've never seen you be either one!" I can do mathematics, you see, and with three males to two females, mathematics calls for flirting and flattery. Besides, it's true.
"Right. Well, where should we go now?" asked Arilash.
"Let us go somewhere civilized, where there are hovens who will provide good things for us without excessive effort on our part," said Osoth.
"You really don't want to do the hunting and cooking, Osoth," said Arilash, flicking her tailtip in amusement.
"I do not. I further promise any prospective mate of mine a life painted with considerable luxury, provided by small people living and dead. And not, directly, by me," said Osoth.
"You're still acting like the females are in charge of the mating flight anymore," said Nrararn.
"They are," said Arilash.
I did more math. "I think Arilash and I each have three-twelfths of the authority, and the drakes each get two-twelfths. And in a standard mating flight, without perverts or purple rays, each dragoness gets two-twelfths. So our drakes are as in charge as dragonesses usually are."
Arilash stared at me. "That makes nonsense, I suppose."
"I shall not fuss in such detail about the numerology. I am fussing about cartography, or, in any case, navigation. I propose we go to Damma. Damma is a rich country, beautiful with ancient history, and fascinating with mountains and jungles," said Osoth.
"Isn't that the other way 'round?" asked Nrararn. "Ancient history isn't usually beautiful."
"Not in this instance. In any case, I suspect that Damma would be happy to supply us with spicy delicacies and civic entertainments and mountain caves in exchange for a promise to destroy any Peace Everywhere Arrays used against them during our stay, and other such minor chores," said Osoth.
The other drakes shrugged. Nrararn said, "How about the city that Jyothky found? Dorday, wasn't it? I'd like to see more of Trest. Especially off the battlefield. Civilization's nice, and Trest is supposed to have lots of it."
"Dorday is delightful. I'll show you around," I said. "And what I don't know, Tarcuna does."
Csirnis flapped his forewings. "I should be glad to see Dorday."
Which was three votes out of five, or seven out of twelve by my axiomatization, so that's what we did.
|
World In My Claws
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Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Our Invasion of Dorday
|
This deserves a full military-style summary.
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World In My Claws
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Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
The Negotiations with the Allies
|
"Ythac? The mating flight would like to go to Dorday. That's your territory. Do you mind?" I wrote.
"Are any of you going to rule it — and, if so, before or after you get married?" he asked back.
"No, just being tourists."
"Then enjoy! I will be glad to come visit now and then. I haven't seen Dorday yet."
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World In My Claws
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Bard Bloom
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[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
The Preparations
|
Tarcuna was living in a hotel room not far from the Diplomatic Brigade's offices. It was small and dingy, and I didn't much want to come in. The curtains were dusty when I brushed them aside with my muzzle to stick my head through the window.
"Tarcuna, I would like you to come with me back to Dorday."
"Do I have a choice?"
I had to think about that. "You can, at least, express dissent," I said after a while.
"I'd rather negotiate." said Tarcuna.
"Negotiate away!"
"I'm going to go visit some family and some friends. You come with me."
"Oh, I'd be glad to," I said.
"And you're not to injure any of them."
"I should be glad not to injure any more hovens," I said.
"You are trying to be nicer than me in that. I doubt you can manage it," said Tarcuna.
"What?"
"I imagine I'll want to injure my mother, at least," said Tarcuna. "I won't injure her, and you won't either."
"You have an unusual style of requesting favors of dragons," I said.
"Fine. I'll threaten you: if you kill anyone in Dorday, you'll have to kill me too," said my broken hoven.
"I'm not going to kill anyone in Dorday!" I protested.
"Right, then. When do we leave?"
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World In My Claws
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Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
The Approach
|
We flew from Perstra to Dorday. The route was free of fighter planes and zeppelins and other hoven-built obstacles. Which doesn't mean it was safe. Arilash cut her wing on the track of my the Scratch-the-Sky, from a long time ago.
"Subtle, subtle Jyothky, to prepare such a trap for her rival!" said Osoth.
"The wing will heal, the sky will heal. But Jyothky really needs to learn some better travel spells," grumbled Arilash.
"I learned the Dozenwing Dozentail!" I called out.
"No. Better travel spells," said Arilash.
Another fiancée point lost, I suppose.
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World In My Claws
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Bard Bloom
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[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
The Actual Assault
|
The other dragons shrank down to hoven size, and landed in front of the Grand Hotel Dorday Elysium. I landed in my full size — rather amused to be towering over Arilash and Csirnis for once. Dozens of hovens left the street quickly.
"Ho, gendarmes!" I called to five of them who hadn't left quite so quickly. "Come help me take this woman and her luggage off my back!"
"Bertrand, you go. Distract them until the street is clear," said the squad-captain. Bertrand walked towards me slowly, as if he actually hadn't planned to commit suicide this afternoon, and somewhat resented the opportunity to die gloriously in the service of his fellow citizens.
I sang, "I'm not killing anyone today! But take this woman off my back!"
Tarcuna waved her good arm. "Bertrand! Remember me from the Red Spire? Come help me down."
Bertrand's colleagues snickered. Bertrand's fur went muddy. "Doesn't the Red Spire promise discretion?" he muttered to her, as he opened buckles.
"Oh, I've quit the Red Spire," she said lightly. "I work for Spotty now."
"I didn't know anyone quit the Red Spire," said Bertrand, helping her down.
"Oh, the old rules are gone forever. I'm the first one to quit," she said. "Not the last, I hope. It's a horrible place."
"It seemed pretty nice to me," he said. "Safe, for one thing. We never had any complaints from it."
"What was wrong, was something we couldn't complain about."
"What was that?"
"Cyoziworms," she said.
"Right. Cyoziworms. I've been there a dozen times, and I don't seem to be possessed," said Bertrand.
"They are absolutely real, Bertrand. I was wormridden."
"Get your story straight, girl. If they're real, you don't 'were' wormridden. They don't let you go."
Tarcuna jumped down off my back, and her hooves clattered on the pavement. "Nothing on Hove can stand against the dragons, nothing. Not our army, not cyoziworms. Nothing. Spotty saved me." She doesn't use that awestruck tone when she's actually talking to us.
Bertrand glared at her, but didn't seem to want to argue too much with five dragons watching him. "Who's Spotty?"
I shrank to hoven-size, for better conversation. "I am. Pleased to meet you, Bertrand."
"Um... Likewise..." he said. He stank of fear and resentment, though.
"We're not here for blood or destruction," I reassured him. "We're just tourists. Just like any other visitors to Dorday."
"...of course..." he said.
"Spotty, you're scaring him more," said Tarcuna, as if I couldn't smell it. "Bertrand, thank you for the hand, and I promise that the dragons won't be any trouble. As long as nobody antagonizes them."
"Even the last time, I didn't kill anyone who didn't attack me first. And this time it would be very rude to Ythac if I did," I added. Which helped not at all.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Avoiding Premature Detection
|
Osoth spread his wings. "And now that that is accomplished, I beg of you, O my stygian fiancée, to impel your courtesan to deliver us unto the divers disportments procurable in the vicinity!"
"He said 'yes'," said Nrararn.
"Well. I certainly didn't say 'no'," Osoth affirmed, or, at least, did not deny.
I turned into my usual hoven shape. "Right! Let's go!"
The other dragons stared at me, tails curled in distaste.
"We'll have a much better time in hoven shape," I said. In Grand Draconic, out of embarrassment.
The other dragons glanced at each other, not speaking, not changing.
"Really. Everything's arranged for hovens here. Because, well, they've never had visitors who weren't hoven before," I said. "So, if you want a comfortable seat at a show, say, or a ride on the big wheel, or anything, you'll need to be in hoven shape. And we'll scare them less that way."
The other dragons eyed each other.
After a moment, Csirnis put on his most diplomatic voice. "I wouldn't say I'd never take a hoven shape on this part of the trip, but on the whole if I'm around other dragons, I'd rather look my best. It may be somewhat of a drake's foible, or even shortcoming, and I freely admit that it is not a matter of dire rational necessity, but... forgive me. I shall assume, I have assumed, a smaller size for the sake of the natives. But the situation has not yet arisen in which I wish to give up my claws and teeth in front of my worthy adversaries Osoth and Nrararn."
Osoth and Nrararn smirked a bit at each other to get called 'worthy adversaries'. Nrararn said, "You know I'm not entirely averse to shapeshifting in the pursuit of tourism — I was once the gaudiest duck on all of Hove, if you recall — but for more than an hour or two, I'd rather be myself."
"To say nothing of the risk of cyoziworms," said Arilash. "You and Llredh both got menaced by them in a matter of days. Our drakes and you would probably be safe enough, but I don't have any more dangersense than Llredh."
"And no more ability to keep away from whores, too?" I snapped. In Grand Draconic, which Tarcuna never will understand. "That's how Llredh got caught."
"Right. Here's your fiancée point. I think you're still keeping score," she said. "Though, for those who care, I haven't mated with anyone but my fiancés since the mating flight started." She glanced at the drakes as if challenging them to care. They did not meet her glance, though. "Or maybe I'm just as vain as a drake."
I turned back into a hoven-sized dragon, and hissed, "And I guess there's your fiancée point back."
Arilash dipped her head. "Thank you. For not fighting, I mean. I've had too much fighting lately."
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Establishing a Beachhead
|
"We'd like five rooms, please," said Tarcuna to the receptionist. "On the ninth floor, if you've got that many free."
The receptionist looked at Tarcuna, and looked at us. "For... them?"
"Yes."
The receptionist preemptively curled up crying. Management had to be called, and further reassurances had to be made.
"This would be all much easier if we look like hovens," I reminded nobody in particular, in Grand Draconic.
"Except, of course, that in that situation we would look like hovens," said somebody in particular that I was engaged to.
"And watching hovens squirm and whimper is fun. It's not at all appropriate to actually threaten them, much less hurt them, but nobody can really blame us for just looking like ourselves. Especially, like ourselves only smaller," said somebody else in particular.
I bit somebody else in particular's tail. Some days I don't like dragons very much.
Most of the Grand Hotel Dorday Elysium staff ran away at that point — three of the four who hadn't already left, that is. Our rooms were delayed by another third of an hour.
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World In My Claws
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Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Maintaining Amicable Relationships with the Locals
|
"A very important thing!" I chirped, after we finally had our rooms. "The hotel ordinarily sends hovens in to clean and tend the room. I got very upset about that at first."
"I certainly won't have hovens poking at my hoard. Or even my bedclothes," said Nrararn.
"Tarcuna, could you arrange with the hotel staff so they don't go in to Nrararn's room?"
"Nor mine," said Arilash. "I shall ask for them when I require them."
"I shall not fret overmuch about servants. I have endured their attentions in a previous career," said Csirnis.
"Spotty and Csirnis yes, Nrararn and Arilash no," said Tarcuna. "Osoth?" The necromancer didn't answer, being in the middle of an astral conversation with a ghost. "Osoth?" She rapped on his forehead hard with her Dragon-Taming Staff. "Osoth? Are you there?"
"I am, at least, currently found somewhere on Hove's inner surface, at approximately the present time. What is it that you wished to speak with me about, good tour guide Tarcuna?"
She had to explain again. Osoth is used to servants too, it turns out, though he is only grudgingly willing to accept living ones.
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World In My Claws
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Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Establishing Clear Lines of Authority
|
Each room had a big heavy brass key. It wasn't difficult or even notable for hoven hands to use. It wasn't easy to manage with claws, so I had Tarcuna do it for me. Then she had to do it for the others. Except of course that Csirnis didn't seem to have any trouble. Some days I hate Csirnis.
And then Tarcuna walked into my room and tossed her backpack on the desk. "Same arrangements as last time?"
"Did we forget to get you your own room?"
"I thought you wanted me close by for your convenience."
"You're the one who usually needs help. We just forgot about your room."
"Should I go get a separate one? There're two more rooms on this floor free. By tomorrow I'll bet that all fourteen are open."
I was feeling distinctly low on friends. "No, don't bother. Same arrangements as last time."
"Thanks, Spotty," she said. She was probably even lower on friends than I was.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Coda
|
Certain facets of this plan are not working as well as I might like.
Nickname: If I am going to keep going by "Spotty", I need to remember to have spots. Fortunately none of the other dragons have spots.
Not so surprising, for spots are pretty rare. Chevethna has spots, six spots on each flank. Rankotherium has two spots on his cheeks. That's about it for dragons close to me.
Actually, some of the older guests at my coming-of-age party had spots. It used to be high fashion for drakes to have a single stripe of spots from your foreshoulder to the end of your tail. Now it looks somewhere between frumpy and archaic.
Inconspicuousness: We are simply not getting the degree of inattention as dragons that I got as a hoven. This is obvious. It is also not going to get fixed.
Festivity: Last time I was here, Dorday was a city on the perpetual verge of a party. Not the whole city, really, but the tourist parts. This time, there aren't very many tourists, and nobody is happy to see us.
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World In My Claws
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Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Surgical Arena (Day 152)
|
Arilash and Tarcuna and I were eating at an early lunch at Com' al Virtu. We were more direct than last time, and started off ordering a whole loaf of the zotanco al besti puree, and don't bother with the crackers since they'd be more annoyingly sticky than delightfully crunchy on dragon teeth. Tarcuna scooped up a small spoonful and licked at it delicately, and Arilash and I gobbled the rest like icecream.
A pair of hovens came in, and yelped when they saw us. This happened every time, of course, but usually the hovens were staring at Arilash and me. The man of the couple was, but the woman was staring at Tarcuna, and looking utterly devastated.
Tarcuna looked back at her. "Oh, rails of the black sun. That's Bthera!"
"Beg pardon?" asked Arilash.
"I worked with her at the Red Spires."
Arilash said, "So she's wormridden still?"
"Still? Unless you've rescued her without mentioning it to me."
Arilash glared at the liver paté, her tailtip twitching.
Bthera and her john sat as far from us as they could: not quite all the way across the room, since the furthest tables were already taken. They ordered this and that, and started to eat it. We ordered this and that and another eight dishes besides, and devoured the ones that came first. Arilash did, grudgingly, admit that Ventelian cuisine is quite tasty.
In the middle of a sentence, Bthera suddenly squeaked, and scrambled awkwardly to our table. "Tarcuna? Is that you?"
Tarcuna's fur wrinkled. "Yes, it is. Sorry — I had to resign from Red Spires pretty abruptly. I didn't manage to call and tell you."
Bthera said in a frantic voice, "Is Bopo all right?" She didn't look much like she wanted to ask that, especially so loudly.
Tarcuna laughed a laugh of draconic cruelty. She is picking up my bad habits. "Bopo is exactly where I want him."
Bthera looked greatly relieved. "We've been seeing you on television, hearing about you in the newspapers. We didn't know what had happened with you, with Bopo."
Tarcuna grinned. "Where I want him. Not where he wants him. What he wants doesn't matter anymore."
Bthera screamed in terror and despair. Arilash and I sighed: this was clearly not going to be a peaceful gourmet luncheon anymore. Bthera's consort of the day stormed over. "Bthera, what is going on?" He turned to me. "Great dragon, please ignore this woman. She should not be bothering you. She will not bother you further."
I glared at him. "She's fifteen hundred thurneys a day, plus tip, right? Tarcuna, give him fifteen hundred plus tip. I've got a better use for Bthera than you do."
Tarcuna looked eager. "Oh, you're going to do that for her? Spotty, you're so sweet! But why does he get a tip?"
"Right, no tip," I said.
Bthera picked up the table and dumped it on top of us, and turned to flee. Her john tried to take her arm, but she threw him at Arilash with one hand. We dug out from under tablecloths and a platter of very good zotanco al besti. Arilash bit my wing in annoyance. I healed myself and flew after Bthera.
Bthera was fast. No natural hoven can run as fast as the wormridden, when they need to. With the Dozenwing Dozentail, I was faster. I caught her in the middle of Pourride Avenue. Bthera was strong. No natural hoven can kick as hard as the wormridden, when they need to. She damaged me worse than the Dozenwing Dozentail had done. I couldn't subdue her at hoven size. She wasn't much of a trouble at my full size, though.
"What are you going to do with her?" asked Arilash. I had accumulated quite an audience: Arilash and Tarcuna, and hundreds of hovens wondering what the right response was when an empire-killing monster tried to abduct a beautiful woman in the street. (Or, if you prefer — and I do — when a marginally beautiful woman tried to abduct a conquersome monster in the street.)
"I am going to give Llredh a present. Or, I am going to focus him back on something worthwhile, instead of just letting him make his newly captured hovens miserable."
"What are you going to do to Bopo?" squeaked Bthera.
"I'll take you and him to the hospital, where he will be revealed and destroyed, and you will be set free, Bthera."
"A present for me too!" shouted Tarcuna.
Arilash bit my wing again. "We're here for a mating flight, remember? You are getting distracted."
Which is true, but cyoziworms are so disgusting.
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World In My Claws
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Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
The Hour of Biology
|
Bthera struggled as hard as she could, hammering on me with her fists, kicking, biting. Bopo forced her to use every bit of her body's strength, to get away if she could. Which only meant that, when we got to Dorday Academy, she was exhausted, shaking and quivering in my hand.
"Duschafle Hall is biology," said Tarcuna. "That building, with the dull pink spire." The academy buildings had spires, like everywhere in Dorday, but they were more sedate. So that's where we went.
"This young woman is wormridden. Bring out your best scientists and instruments, so that you can observe the phenomenon, and learn about it, and attest to it. When your master Llredh arrives, we will extract the cyoziworm, and save the woman," I said. (I had written to Ythac, and Llredh was on his way.) About two dozen times, in two dozen different phrasings, to two dozen different administrators and scientists and newspaper reporters and whatnots.
Arilash looked small and annoyed for the first dozen and a half of those. That changed when we came to the Intrascopy Laboratory of the Grey Star. (Dorday Academy keeps the old tradition of identifying its rooms by painted symbols on the door, not room numbers.)
"What's an intrascope?" she asked.
"A tool for observing a helical cross-section of a living organism," explained Professor Wulpmegarn. He explained for another half-dozen minutes. I didn't follow the science even well enough to write any of it down. Arilash understood a bit more, until Tarcuna cut in to try to explain it. Then we were both lost. Anyway, it's sort of like using a very low-intensity twistor beam that mostly just draws what it encounters, rather than twisting it around.
Mostly.
"We need to get her consent before we use it on her," said Professor Wulpmegarn. "There are inevitable side effects, ranging from the occasional short-term hematomata to the increased likelihood of long-term carcinomata. When I was a student, we were rather too casual about such matters. Now the Experimental Board is very strict."
I heard a heavy double wingbeat in the distance. "The conqueror of your land overrules the Experimental Board."
He settled the glass medallion of a Laboratory-Master around his grey-furred neck. "In my experience, it is, indeed, better to get informed consent from the subjects to all invasive experiments."
"She can't give consent. Her worm won't let her," said Tarcuna.
"I would never dream of arguing that cyoziworms are impossible, not in the presence of two extradimensional creatures who have exhibited undeniable powers which defy current scientific explanation. But cyoziworms are a different order. If the stories about them bear any resemblance to the truth, they are native to Hove. It is difficult to understand how such a remarkable entity could avoid detection. If nothing else, autopsies have been legal for nearly two centuries, and are frequently performed. No cyoziworms have been noticed yet."
So we argued a bit about the reality of cyoziworms and the ability of the wormridden to avoid having their worms detected. I hate arguing with professors. I knew I was right, but I nearly got persuaded I was wrong.
Then Llredh arrived. He didn't bother shrinking to fit the laboratory, as Arilash and I had done; he just looked through the window, and the weight of his musky smoke filled the laboratory. He listened for half a minute, and glared a bit, and said, "Prepare the intrascope."
Professor Wulpmegarn didn't argue any more about that.
|
World In My Claws
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Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Intrascopic Evidence
|
So Bthera was duly rendered unconscious by means of drugs, to add to her unconsciousness by means of exhaustion, and placed in extensive restraints, and her beautiful chest was exposed to the pale flickering violet beam of the intrascope. In minutes, a wide stream of clear tape slithered slowly out of a printer, with incomprehensible shapes outlined in intense red and green and purple on it.
Dr. Wulpmegarn took it with a well-practiced hand, and twisted it into a spiral. The outer lines took the shape of a hoven body, adequately visible through the transparent tape. The inner lines showed organs. The biologist showed us the ugly shapes of lungs and Fralian nodes and heart, pointing with the tip of a pencil held between the coils of the intragram.
Arilash was utterly delighted with the intrascope. To the point of, she'll accept one in place of a magic ring in her mating hoard. Our remaining drakes seem distinctly pleased by this, since they're much easier to find than magic rings on Hove.
"And I am compelled to admit that there is an anomalous body extending from the base of the brain through the chest, forking right there by the heart," said the biologist.
"That's your cyoziworm. Well, that's Bthera's cyoziworm," I said. "Be glad it's not yours."
Llredh opened his mouth. Arilash spat quick fire into it. "Don't kill her, Llredh! We're here to kill the cyoziworm, remember? And get your subjects to believe in them. Can't do that if you burn up the lab."
"The sensible comment, you bring her with you, Arilash. Yet, the fury, he is large and thick within me! Not long will I allow this worm to live!"
"I would recommend that we study it further," said Dr. Wulpmegarn.
"Is fearlessness a common sort of brain damage among hovens? Maybe one of the intrascope experiments when he was a student caused it?" I asked Tarcuna, but she didn't know.
Llredh just hissed at the professor, "Study fast! For not long will I allow this worm to live!"
"The more we know about it, the better chance we'll have of eradicating it altogether," said the professor calmly. "After all, this is the first time anyone has seen scientific evidence of it."
"Not so! I have seen it before, I have felt it drip into its little cup, I need no further evidence! Also hovens have seen them before. Even scientists!"
(Much later that evening, he told us about that. Ythac had looked around a bit with finding-spells, and uncovered dozens of fragmentary stories of scientists and natural philosophers learning somewhat about cyoziworms. They generally wound up wormridden or dead within days of their first publication, by the intentional and devoted effort of the wormridden to protect themselves. The wormridden ones, of course, immediately recanted their findings, and dedicated themselves to obscuring the truth of cyoziworms as much as possible. Ythac compelled Prof. Wulpmegarn to have a constant bodyguard.)
"And there are plenty of other cyoziworms. I can find you thirty by nightfall if you want. Which is the problem, actually. If it were the last of its kind we might be a bit more interested in science," said Tarcuna.
"Well, let us at least perform it as a proper, if rather rushed, Observed Experiment," said the professor.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Preparations for a Proper Observed Experiment
|
Getting fourteen distinguished professors of biology and medicine assembled, plus dozens of students and several reporters, was a matter of two hours' work. Finding a place to do the vivisection was not so easy. Llredh refused to be at anything but his full size in front of his students. (Or, refused to be in a shape that cyoziworms could even remotely attack in the presence of cyoziworms, I really think.)
"Let's use the Lecture Hall of the Balanced Parallelograms," said Tarcuna after a while. "Llredh can look in through the window."
"That's not a suitable place for surgery," said Prof. I-don't-remember. "It's not sterile."
"I did this operation before," I reminded him. "Starting on the Boulevard of the Orange Pine Trees, and ending on the roof of a bank. I'll be using so much healing that sterility won't matter."
Bicker-bicker-bicker, went the surgery professors.
"You've seen them change size with your own eyes, you've seen them breathe fire and lightning and darkness on television. Why are you arguing about their healing powers?" asked Tarcuna.
Just because they can distort the laws of physics doesn't mean that they can also distort the laws of biology, went the surgery professors.
Poke with the smallish but very sharp claw!, went Arilash.
Scream and bleed!, went Dr. Smends, the most arguesome surgery professor.
"Observe this fine injury — a textbook example of a sucking chest wound in its early stages," lectured Arilash. "Dr. Smends, would you not agree?" Dr. Smends was perhaps less eloquent than he had been a moment before, though not actually any less noisy. "Other honored professors?" They concurred that it was, indeed, as she had specified. At least, one might well take their rush to perform first aid and/or escape as agreement. "No, don't bother to treat it yourselves." Arilash brushed them aside with her tail. "My assistant will demonstrate the use of astral magic to distort the laws of biology." She looked to me.
"Assistant, nothing. Your superior in matters of healing," I said, because fiancée points. It wasn't hard to heal. Arilash had carefully sliced flesh, but not broken bone. I looked at the professors. "Any questions?"
Yes, they had plenty of questions, mostly along the lines of "How did you do that?" and "How could we learn to do that?" and "How can you be so violent so casually?" To which the answers are, "Astral magic" and "We are not going to give hovens any astral magic!" and "Because we can heal so easily."
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World In My Claws
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Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Dissection
|
Dr. Smends, despite being physically unhurt anymore, declined to perform the actual surgery, preferring to sit in a corner with a beaker full of brandy. Dr. Grauzeng, the most recently-hired of the surgeons, was selected to do the actual cutting. I warned her what to expect from the surgery — disintegrating bits of very poisonous worm, and the wounds constantly closing from the healing spells.
"So let's leave the worm alive as long as possible," said Dr. Grauzeng. "If the poison isn't evolved until it dies."
"Oh! We could try that," I said. "The time I had done it, I started out killing it."
"Sever the brain connections first. Otherwise it might wreck her brain, out of fear or fury," said Tarcuna. So we drafted Arilash to try to render the worm insensate for the first part of the surgery — I didn't want to fuss with that and the healing at the same time. She's better with the Lure of Dreams than I am — anyone who's ever cast it except for practice is better.
"And Bthera's going to love you forever," said Tarcuna.
"Beg pardon?"
"Well, you or Spotty. That's the natural reaction to getting rescued from cyoziworms," she said with a shrug.
Arilash looked out the window to peer at Llredh. "Is that right?"
"Wrong, she is not. The clearer situation with Ythac, though, her I did not resent, nor reject! We were on our way there before."
"Perhaps a single, male surgeon would be a better choice...?" said Dr. Grauzeng. "A man might find the patient appealing. I am a woman, and a married one at that."
"Not that kind of love. More along the lines of, well, worship," said Tarcuna. "I mean, I'd do that if Spotty asked. Or nearly anything else. But I was a public friend for a while, so that isn't much of a problem."
"Bthera is a public friend too," noted Arilash.
"This topic, she brings me resentment. Resentment, she brings fire to my tongue and to my lips. Commence the surgery!" roared Llredh.
"Or maybe it doesn't work that way for everyone. We've only seen it twice, and was pretty different for the two," I pointed out, to give poor Dr. Grauzeng a bit of hope.
Dr. Grauzeng, that artist of the scalpel, went in through the cheek. Arilash stunned the worm as best she could, and Dr. Grauzeng clipped its brain-probes. The audience, watching projected images of the surgery on big screens over the table, yelped and squirmed as they saw the writhing proof of the cyoziworm's reality.
After a bit of quick consultation, we decided to try to pull the worm out of Bthera from the top, on the hope that that would be less damaging than cutting her open from cheek to chest. I put the Small Wall into the worm — and did that ever get a bitter hiss from Llredh! — so that it wouldn't be quite so vulnerable to tugging. Either the idea or the execution is imperfect, since the worm broke halfway out. Llredh roared in triumph, nearly making Dr. Grauzeng drop the worm back into the patient.
Which gave Dr. Grauzeng and I our time to scramble, cutting and healing in a frantic rush, like last time. This particular surgery is easier without warplanes. I think we did it in a quarter of the time, and spilled much less poison in Bthera. Taking the probes out of the brain was still very hard, and in the end we didn't have much better choice with two of them than pull quick and heal quick and hope for the best.
After the last incision had been healed, Bthera was in much better shape than Tarcuna had been. She only needed healing every six minutes, even right after, not every minute, and by midnight it seemed safe to leave her in the hospital attended only by hovens and material medicine.
The medical aftermath was more, well, amusing. I didn't get to see much of it, since I was tending Bthera. Arilash was in the thick of it, and told me afterwards. The doctors and biologists had recorded the whole surgery, and were pointing at a dozen pictures from it. They were discussing how the cyoziworm fit into Hove's biology. Two biologists held forth at great length on the phylum of forkworms, a minor branch of parasitic life found in mainly in a distant continent on the Godaxle. Forkworms are hard to dissect because they melt into poisonous slush when killed. The conclusion was obvious. Llredh hissed and fumed, trying to decide if he would destroy the entire phylum or just the cyoziworms.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Results of the Experiment
|
Several of the doctors, at the same time, were discussing how sure they were that they were seeing the etiology of Chapifou's Lesion — a large, horrible lesion of the interior of the throat and chest, cause previously unknown, only discovered during autopsies of (usually) patients who were generally asymptomatic before death. "Because, if dying cyoziworms really do cause Chapifou's Lesion, we've got a great deal of epidemiological information about them. There must be tens of thousands of case records... a wealth of facts, now that we know what we're seeing," said Prof. Wulpmegarn.
Prof. Grauzeng fiddled with a slide rule. "That operation took, let us say, a quarter of a day. Eight dragons for healing, assume we can work them full time and speed the matter up manyfold... that's a hundred cyoziworms a day. How many are there?"
"Tens of thousands in Trest alone. I'm sure they can reproduce faster than that. Even if you could get all the dragons to work," said Tarcuna.
"Which you can't," said Arilash. "I'll do a few, maybe, as a favor to Jyothky or Llredh, but not my share of a hundred a day."
"Pretty hopeless," said Tarcuna, and flopped into a chair miserably.
Llredh's angry, despairing red breath was a column of consuming fire reaching many miles into the night sky, and brought fear to grands of hovens and meltation to a section of the side of Duschafle Hall. I bit his tail. He kicked my head and crushed the side of my skull. Nothing worth noting there.
"We shall have to find another approach," said Dr. Wulpmegarn. "No brilliant ideas come to mind instantly... but half a day ago I should have believed the problem wholly fictional. I'm sure that there is some reasonable answer around, waiting for us to find it."
"Take not overlong! If I cannot heal them, I shall kill them. My revenge, she will come!"
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Twelve Dooms (Day 158)
|
"I need a favor from you," said Tarcuna, looking upset, fur all bristly and everything.
"He-or-she is as good as dead," I told her. I was rather upset too. The Dorday Museum of Art and Culture had somehow gotten a great deal more tedious since my previous visit. The means by which it had accomplished this feat were not so clear, since none of the exhibits had changed. The company had, though. Osoth was far more aware of the vagaries and idiosyncracies of hoven cultural history than I was then, and than I am now, and he didn't have very much good to say about the museum. And, since it was a mating flight event, Tarcuna was not allowed to come, despite that she's a highly-trained professional companion capable of making amusing conversation without the slightest sign of stress or strain. I didn't actually bite Osoth or anything, but Arilash did invite him to couple instead of seeing the second half of the museum. Sex with her trumped Hoven art and culture with me. Which I would expect from Llredh or Nrararn, but this was Osoth.
"What? No, no, you are not to kill anyone!" said Tarcuna.
"Not one of Ythac's anyones, certainly, which is everyone but you in Dorday. What favor do you want?"
"Do you remember Prof. Wulpmegarn?" she asked.
I glared at her. "I am totally incapable of remembering the person in whose laboratory we spent most of a day recently. Stupid lizard, me. Didn't get enough museums as a hatchling."
"Well, you're certainly in a mood. Prof. Wulpmegarn is going to present the Twelve Troubles Report to Ythac. If he can get your protection, which is what I'm asking you for."
I spread my ears. "What's a Twelve Troubles Report, and why does he need protection?"
Tarcuna climbed onto the chest of drawers so she could be taller than me. "When Ythac took over the country, he asked some professors to tell him the twelve most troublesome troubles facing the nation. They've been fussing about the list — they mostly have it, but they're afraid to tell Ythac. So they asked Wulpmegarn, since you seemed to like him and they thought you might be willing to keep Ythac from killing him," said Tarcuna.
"I don't see the problem. I've killed lots more hovens than Ythac. He teases me about it, even."
"I know that, but something in the report is going to upset him. Will you help?"
"Sure, I'd be glad to. It'll get me away from my fiancés a bit more. That's got to be good."
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Chapter 28
|
Ythac's court in Perstra was now a very large tent, on a very large and very muddy avenue. He, himself, sat on a dais which seemed to be made from boards resting on the raised stone flower planters that had once adorned the sidewalk. Llredh had had a similar dais, which was now a tumble of scattered planks and overturned planters. Which may have been the reason that Llredh was not there.
"Ythac, the splendor of your throne room rivals all description," I told him.
"I know, I know. The hovens of the old regime didn't get around to building proper state facilites. I tried using the Cauldron of Roses Havocs Arena. This is better," he said ruefully.
"What was wrong with the stadium?"
He drooped his ears. "Well, the smell, first of all. Hoven sweat, beer, and used beer. Not the atmosphere I wanted to present for my enlightened and dignified reign. And of course when I cancelled a havocs game, the hovens all rioted."
"I suppose this is better. Anyhow, I'm here to see your Twelve Troubles get read. And make sure you don't kill Prof. Wulpmegarn."
He breathed fire at me. "I am not going to kill anyone!" He wasn't very upset though, or he'd have breathed darkness.
"Hey! I presume that hurt! Also you'd better be careful, or you'll burn your replacement temporary court down."
He drooped. "I suppose I had better get some hovens on to building the permanent one. Out of stone and metal."
"Shall I get you your helpful and nicely-warded professor now?"
Ythac blinked at me. "He rode in on you? What are you anymore, a bodyguard and a taxi service for hovens?"
"I carried him in a brass car that used to be part of the Wheel of Iron in a Dorday amusement park, I'll have you know. A spare one, to be sure, but I certainly hadn't paid for it." Which I had, as an easy way to not crush him.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Chapter 29
|
Prof. Wulpmegarn adjusted his formal robes, resettled his glass medallion, and brushed at a spot of his grey forehead where the fur might have been infinitesimally out of line. "I suppose there's no more delaying it," he said. "You say that Lleredh is not here?"
"His name is Llredh, just one 'e', and he's not."
"A pity. He seemed relatively peaceful, at least compared to that tan monster in the surgery," said Prof. Wulpmegarn. I stared at him; anyone who thinks Llredh is more peaceful than Arilash hasn't been paying much attention. Wulpmegarn shrugged and added, "Or at least, inclined in my favor as well, while I am researching cyoziworms for him."
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Chapter 30
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Ythac's court didn't have very many courtiers. A dozen or so hovens: I recognized Rev. Dreyrey and Larella Spargee. A dozen gendarmes in fancy uniforms, I have no idea why. Ex-Archon Shuvanne wearing a quite soiled formal suit, swinging in an iron cage in the middle of the court. A dozen reporters from various Magic Horns. A big empty space where Llredh sometimes sits, which I took for myself.
And one rather nervous professor. "Well, your committee has asked me to deliver their report," he said. "Please be aware that I didn't have very much to do with it, though I was quite active in the sudden inclusion of item eight."
"Perhaps you could start with item one? I am eager to start fixing the country that my true love has given to me," said Ythac.
"Right." He smelled terrified. "Item one. According to your select committee on the major troubles facing Trest, item one is, that Trest was just conquered by monsters from another universe."
Shuvanne laughed, a loud and rather crazed laugh. "They got you pegged, Ythac! Of all the problems here, you're the worst!"
I flicked him with my hukuchô. "Quiet, murderer of my fiancé!" He screamed and struggled to escape me, which only made his cage sway wildly.
Ythac reared 'til his spikes brushed the tent, and hissed a terrible hiss. "All of you, be quiet! Jyothky, please do not torment the former regime any more. I thought you were here to protect hovens, anyway."
Fortunately I can't lose fiancée points with Ythac anymore.
Prof. Wulpmegarn looked at Ythac. "Shall I proceed?"
Ythac laughed. "You weren't expecting to get past the first point? I know exactly what punishment to impose upon you." Prof. Wulpmegarn whined and groveled. Ythac sneered, "Finish your list. Your punishment shall come after it is done. But don't delay, or I will increase it."
I hissed at Ythac in Grand Draconic, "I promised him safety!"
Ythac hissed back in Grand Draconic, "It's not that kind of punishment!"
Prof. Wulpmegarn looked at me helplessly. I smiled at him — I hope he can recognize the gesture as friendly, it's a lot fangier than a hoven smile — and told him to go on. So he did. "Second trouble is the increasing noxiousness of the lower air, particularly around our more industrial regions. The causes of this are straightforward: smoke from the burning of wood, dust from mining and milling, toxic vapors from bleaching, curing, and various other industrial processes. Cleaning the air without destroying Trestean industry has been a troublesome and difficult puzzle."
Ythac nodded. "The air is, indeed, not as sweet as in the Khamrou Mountains in Ghemel. Jyothky, do you feel the need to defend the professor from my lack of a fury about that answer? No? Prof. Wulpmegarn, pray continue."
"Third is a widespread economic weakness, which the recent troubles have done nothing to improve," said Prof. Wulpmegarn. He didn't have as much to say about economics as biology. "Fourth is military: our soldiers are arguably overtaxed by too many peacekeeping efforts in too many places. Fifth is also military: our soldiers are thoroughly demoralized by your war of conquest, and their losses in the Mystery Zone in Ghemel."
Ythac chuckled. "It wasn't a war of conquest, just a war of punishment. Llredh conquered you on his own, so we had to stop the war. And it's not a mystery zone. It's an undead paingod from Mhel."
"I am a biologist, untrained in such matters," the professor protested.
"You are, at the moment, reading a summary report, not lecturing in detail on any of the topics. Pray go on."
"Sixth is the decrease in the intensity of the light of Virtuet, by approximately 1.28% over the last century. If, indeed, this is an actual decrease in intensity of sunlight rather than a measurement error of a century ago; I admit to some doubt about this issue. Still, if the main sun and the epicenter of divine light is going out, for whatever physical or religious reasons, we are in rather a lot of trouble. Or our grandchildren will be," said Prof. Wulpmegarn. "Seventh is a joint problem, of increasing noxiousness in our rivers and seas, and a concomitant decline in the quantity and wholesomeness of fish and seafood. Eighth, of course, is the cyoziworms, though the precise dimensions and difficulty of the matter are far from certain. Ninth is the increase in apostasy and religious schism, threatening the religious foundations of the country. Tenth is resurgence of krasthic plague in the Estagnion region. Eleventh is the depletion of various raw materials worldwide, including tantalum, vrexium, and copper. Twelfth is the rising economic and cultural power of various other countries, including Damma and Vlechinse."
Ythac nodded. "That's quite a list. Well, I declare the first (dragons), fifth (military morale), ninth (apostasy), and twelfth (other countries) to be problems of hoven perception. You think they are bad. I think they are good, unimportant, silly, and unimportant, in that order. So here is your punishment: figure out the next-worst four troubles facing Trest, to replace the four that I have eliminated, and one more besides as actual punishment for being obnoxious about the conquest."
He smiled benevolently, and spread his glorious wings. "And next, we must start thirteen studies on how how to solve these matters. These study groups must not be limited to hoven abilities alone. Llredh will surely assist with the cyoziworm issue, and perhaps the water toxicity issue as well, as he enjoys that sort of thing. We don't need the sort of military that was necessary a few weeks ago: no country or countries in Hove can stand against two dragons. We might be able to persuade the sky-mage Nrararn to improve the air, at least for a few years." He beamed. "And in a dozen years or two, these problems will be gone! Thus it is when dragons rule!"
I'm glad Ythac is ruling Trest. He'll be the best overlord ever, I'm sure.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Wheel of Iron (Day 162)
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[ Punishing the Innocent ]
Tarcuna, Csirnis, and I were eating at Porphirio's. We knew How It Is Done At Porphirio's, and, being polite alien invaders and native collaborators, politely asked waiters to carry all our plates and planned to leave a few extra thurnies at the end of the meal. Politeness did not seem to help very much. The waiters were awkward and haphazard, and spilled a large bowl of hot pea soup on Tarcuna out of very intentional carelessness. I've healed her of worse than minor burns, of course. And, since they're not our hovens, and Csirnis is as Uplifty as my mother, we demonstrated just how fearsome and dreadful we monsters are by giving them a very small tip afterwards.
As usual, Tarcuna ate a modest breakfast for a hoven, and got a copy of the Magic Horn of Dorday to entertain Csirnis and me with as we ate a tiny breakfast with tiny bites. She looked at the front page. Her fur went miserably muddy, and she read intently, silently.
"What's the news? You look stung!"
She pried her head away from the words. "The gendarmes raided the Red Spire and took my friends to prison. Three of them died, my friends I mean, and some gendarmes too. Can I read it all and find out who and how?"
I spread my forewings. "Certainly. And I will interrogate Ythac about it. With my claws if need be!" And that got some serious staring from the rest of the diners. Not the proper sort of staring that subjects should stare when one threatens their beloved ruler with injury, unfortunately.
Tarcuna finished her reading, and set the paper by her plate. "This is bad, this is terrible." So we asked her to explain.
"Last night, the gendarmes arrested lots of us. Wormridden, I mean, from all over Dorday. All of the Red Spires, the deputy mayor, everyone I know," she said. "They argued, demanded their legal rights, saying they weren't wormridden anyway and even if they were it's not a crime. Somehow the gendarmes got the idea of intrascoping them. They dragged them all to Dr. Wulpmegarn. Elesma went second, and she said she'd be quiet, but she struggled and twisted when they turned the intrascope on. Moving during the intrascoping must have injured her worm and spilled its poisons. She died before the intrascoping was done. And Tiri was sedated, but she died before she even got into the intrascope. We'd always said that sedation was very dangerous for wormridden; worms live in blood, and drugs can kill them so easily."
"Oh, that's a pair of sorrows," I said, and curled my tail around Tarcuna's shoulders.
She sniffled a bit, and continued. "When the other wormridden saw that, they went berserk. They'd have had to, their worms would make them try anything to survive. The Magic Horn didn't give a lot of details. The deputy mayor got one of the gendarmes' twistor pistol and used it and killed six of them — or maybe everyone did, I'm not sure. They shot him back and killed him. Oh, and Dr. Wulpmegarn's laboratory got ruined, too."
"That's rather a disaster," said Csirnis sympathetically. "Is there anything to be done, do you think? We can scold Ythac and Llredh; I do not think it is what they want!"
So I wrote a note to Ythac about it.
"I know, Jyothky. Llredh is furious. He's given orders that the gendarmes never use intrascopes on the wormridden ever again."
"That's won't help Elesma, though, will it?" My letters were all slashy in my imagination, and probably worse in his.
"No, it won't. We're still trying to figure out how to use the hovens for Llredh's revenge. Ha! You should have seen the chief-of-gendarmes' face when we told him he was going to be hunting cyoziworms. Even after the demonstration, hovens aren't believing them."
Tarcuna went to the deathyard to say farewell to Elesma. The rest of us didn't, but there should have been plenty of actual amusement to do in a tourist city like Dorday, shouldn't there?
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Guardian of the Wheel of Iron
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After breakfast, we went to the St. Cheerior Amusement Park. Tarcuna and I had spent an afternoon when I was here before, and I had enjoyed it a lot.
This time... well, the amusements were pretty much the same. The spirals spun, the balls bounced, and the whirligigs were ready to ride. There weren't very many hovens around to ride them though. Perhaps a few dozen, in a park which had held a few grand the last time I was here.
The centerpiece of St. Cheerior Amusement Park is the big wheel. It's a very big vertical wheel, a massive thing of iron and wood and glittery brass cages for hovens to ride in, built in earlier days when hovens knew some technology but not all that they know now. A heavy iron engine by its side somehow burns wood and boils water and turns it around. Not terribly fast; this isn't a whirligig ride. I could levitate up faster than the big wheel turns. Of course hovens can't levitate, or get into the sky in all that many ways, so the big wheel is perhaps the easiest way to see all Dorday spread beneath you like a very spiky picnic. When I was here before, the lines for the big wheel took a third of an hour.
"Let's go up on the Big Wheel!" I said.
"Ooh, we can get stuffed in a little iron cage and hoisted around to shallow heights much more slowly than we can fly!" said Arilash. She flapped her wings. "Let's go!" She and I had been determinedly mocking each other all morning, in best Mating Flight style.
So we went, or tried to.
With the park so empty, there were no lines, for the big wheel or anything else. A bored-looking hoven boy sat by the ticket booth, with an older hoven, just as bored, tending the engine.
"Give us five tickets," said Arilash to the boy. "Here's the fifteen thurnies."
The boy smelled of terror. He pushed the money back at her. "No."
"Beg pardon?" said Arilash.
"No. No dragons allowed." said the boy.
"What?"
"No dragons allowed. This is for hovens only," he said.
The engineer said, "Dakko, let me take care of this," and stepped to the ticket booth. The boy scuttled behind the engine. "Well, sir dragon, this wheel's only for people. No dragons."
"That's ridiculous," said Arilash. "Your country is ruled by dragons now."
"That's as may be, sir. I ain't in charge of the country. I am in charge of the big wheel. And as long as I'm in charge of it, no dragons go riding it nohow."
"Would you deny Ythac, your master?" she hissed.
"Yes, sir, I'd deny that Ythac is my master. I'm a free man, I am. I don't have a master. I've got an archconsul, to be sure. An archconsul who's a coward and an idiot for surrendering, but we elected him and no dragon is going to come say that he's not ours," said the engineer.
"Except for Llredh, of course," I added.
The engineer glared at me. "I said Shuvanne's a coward, to give up so easy. Me, I ain't no coward."
"You don't have a dragon's claw rammed through your chest," I pointed out.
"You do that, sir. Kill me if you like, go right ahead. You're still not getting a ride on the big wheel from me," said the engineer, stinking of fear and gleaming with bravery.
"It would be ungracious to kill this man," said Csirnis in Grand Draconic. "Even if it were not Ythac and Llredh's territory."
"I'm not going to!" I hissed back at him.
I stared at the engineer. He frowned at me. "Well, you've got no business here. Go away."
I glared at him. I was awfully offended. Of course I couldn't kill him or hurt him very much without poaching against Ythac and thinking much worse of myself. Maybe a flick of hukuchô? But driving him off didn't sound helpful, and he certainly didn't deserve the torture anyway. Maybe arguing that I was helping the hovens, but I wasn't sure I could persuade myself of that, much less one of them. So I just glared.
"Observe the might of Jyothky! She is currently having her tail handed to her by an unarmed, feeble hoven," said Arilash.
"Because I was helping you!" I squeaked.
"I didn't need help. I know what to do," she said to me in Grand Draconic. In Trestean, she hissed at the engineer, "Your meagre Hoven obstinacy cannot prevent me from riding the wheel!" She leapt into the air and circled over us, hissing. "Come on, come on! We all must conquer this wheel!"
So the drakes flew after her to the top of the wheel. I blinked at the engineer, and joined them. We sat on top of a glittering cage, which swayed and wobbled under our weight. The wheel turned slowly. When the one cage with hovens in it came to be the bottom, the engineer stopped the wheel and let them out. They fled. The engineer glared at us, and left the wheel still. So we flew back to the top car, and sat on it for a third of an hour as the engineer told everyone about us.
After we had been there long enough to declare victory, we flew back to our hotel, and sat in the lobby while doleful or angry hovens watched us darkly.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Language of Serpents (Day 167)
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"What should I wear to visit your mother?" I asked Tarcuna.
She finished buckling her green leather belt with the big pouch around her waist, then burrowed around in the suitcases of clothes and personal effects she had taken from Red Spires, which were now taking up most of our hotel room. "Here, try this on!" she said as she tossed me a tangle of black straps and sequins.
It didn't seem significant to either vision or dangersense. I dodged away from it anyway. "What is it?"
"It matches your scales!"
"So does the night sky, and I don't wear that," was the only reasonable answer.
"The night sky doesn't match your scales," she pointed out. "It's green and orange and brown and blue and white. You are black. Black is not any of those colors." I obviously can't even keep track of which universe I'm in.
"Well, it's black where I come from," I said. "How am I supposed to wear this, anyway?"
"You can't, not without turning into a hoven first. And don't do that. It's a very practical private working garment from my old job. Even when I was wormridden I wouldn't wear it in public."
I poked the thing with a claw. It didn't react. I'm sure it was just biding its time to strike. "What do you want me to look like when we visit your mother?"
"Nothing."
She can be a very confusing hoven. "You don't want me there?" I asked.
"Oh, I want you there. I want you invisible." Tarcuna asked.
"That works better when I'm flying. On the ground I run into things. That makes everyone suspicious," I said. Spells like the Esrret-Sky-Painted and the Pyerthu's Spare Hallucination are a vaguely useful trick now and then. But they don't work very well where it counts the most: other dragons can't see you, but they can find you with any of a dozen other senses. You've made yourself look like a fountain of glitter to magioception, on the off chance you didn't have any spells on otherwise.
"Well, I don't want my mother to know I've brought a dragon for backup," Tarcuna said. "It would be embarrassing."
I turned into a tri-colored ribbon snake and slithered into Tarcuna's belt pouch. "I suppose that will do," she said. "Now for the harder question, of what I should wear? I'd take the peach tunic, but... do you have any spells for sewing clothes up instantly, Jyothky?"
I peeked out at the tunic. "I don't. Is it torn? It doesn't look torn."
"It's got a flap for Bopo to stick out. I am not going to wear any clothes like that ever again," she stated inexorably. "But everything shocking is like that, or is too indecent to wear outdoors."
"You're trying to shock her?" I wondered.
"When she disowned me, she was vicious and vehement about the sort of life I'd be leading and how bad it would be for her social standing. As if the only reason I'd fall in love with Kangbok was to trouble her. She was sort of right about that." (Which was a lie, but I count it as storytelling.) "So it would be only gracious to show her how right she was. And if I happen to be bad for her social standing in the process, well, that's just more evidence she was right, isn't it?"
I peered up at her. She looks a good deal more imposing when one is a tiny snake. "Is that how you're supposed to treat your mother?"
"I'm picking etiquette up from you."
I blinked at her. Which works very badly with transparent eyelids. "I don't treat my mother like that."
"I've never seen you with your mother. You treat hovens like that. I'm your catspaw. What do you expect from me?"
"Obedience and moral guidance, maybe?"
She flicked my chin with a fingertip, hard enough to presumably hurt. "Not likely." She stared at her clothes, and picked something red and orange and not as revealing as she wanted.
I let my catspaws get away with far too much, don't I?
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Tarcuna's Ancestral Home
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Tarcuna's family certainly had some status to lose. Their home was a substantial three-floor mansionlet on the side of a big park. Heavy oak trees guarded the front door, and flowering ivy dripped off the walls. A stone hoven danced on the back of a stone turtle in a little pond, and water dripped from her spread hands.
"Great-grandpa made his money in cans, you know," said Tarcuna as she tugged on the doorbell.
"I don't know. I don't even understand," I said. "Was he in a can? Or did the money come to him in cans? The Word-Fox doesn't list that as an expression of abundance, but it's not a very good fox with metaphors."
Tarcuna said, "Neither of those. He invented a way to boil canned food quickly, and made a lot of money. We still —-"
A hoven man opened the door. His fur matched Tarcuna's, red with grey stripes, though he wore his hair short and his bathrobe long. "Yes... Tarcuna? Is that you?"
"Your very own daughter, in the flesh."
"Who were you talking to?" he asked.
Tarcuna stomped one hoof. "Not 'Welcome home, dear child!'? Not even 'Go away, you disgusting monster!'?"
"Come in, come in. I am glad to see you." Tarcuna's father held the door open, a corridor into a private universe full of knickknacks, bagatelles, flummeries, objets d'art, thingamajigs, whatnots, baubles, bric-a-brac, and novelties, but absolutely not a single whimsy. As Tarcuna walked through, he took her in his arms for a close hug. She tensed at first, and then hugged him back. Which left me, in the purse, rather squashed. A real snake might have been upset. My apotropaics are proof against paternal affection.
"Who is it, Mogen?" called a woman from deeper into the house.
"Tarcuna's come back to us, Vetha!" Mogen answered.
Vetha came running, her hooves thumping dully on the antique carpet, her braid of red hair thumping on her back, her stench of confusion and anger all about her for anydragon who has a working tongue to smell. She glared at her daughter, and said, "You've been in the news lately."
Tarcuna extricated herself from her father's embrace, shoved past her parents, and sat in a big puffy chair with threadbare green upholstery in the parlor. I poked my head out of the bag and looked at walls full of dusty-framed photographs of self-important hovens, and stained glass lamps depicting three of the four suns. "Doing my part for the family reputation."
"I'll have you know that everyone thinks you're being simply dreadful. Treason, they call it, and I can't say I disagree," said Vetha.
"Working with the government of Trest is treason? Or maybe it's treason to be working to keep the dragons from killing too many more of us. Or perhaps it's the bit about trying to get rid of the soul-stealing worms that's the problem?" said Tarcuna.
"Getting monsters to conquer your country is treason, dear," said Vetha, sneering a bit.
Tarcuna laughed. "I don't have that kind of influence. I have kept them from burning a few cities and everyone in them, though. So if you really care about your reputation, you can tell everyone I've been more effective protecting us from the dragons than anyone else. Than everyone else put together, even."
Vetha hissed, "What do you want here, Tarcuna?"
"To see you and Dad again. See if you're ready to forgive me for the little things you disinherited me for, now that I'm a hero of the nation and all," said Tarcuna. She was lying.
"I don't think that's exactly right, Tarcuna," interjected Mogen. "The newspapers have not yet chosen to reveal that side of your saga."
"Tarcuna! You started out as a pervert, then became a whore, and now a traitor and collaborator with the dragons!" said Vetha. "I'm at a loss for what you'll come up with for an encore."
"Apostasy, probably. After the worm ate me I stopped going to services," said Tarcuna.
Mogen mumbled, "After moving in with a tappu lover, and a girl at that? The only thing keeping you from apostasy proceedings is the lax state of religious record keeping and enforcement nowadays."
"That plus a large black dragon in my pocket should just about do it, though," said Tarcuna. "I should try to talk Llredh into repealing the apostasy laws. They're pernicious laws anyway."
"Why did you do it, Tarcuna? Why did you do it to us?", cried Vetha.
"I didn't do it to you. Kangbok I did to me. After she kicked me out, I had less than a week of free will before Elesma's worm got me. After that I wasn't thinking about you at all, or about myself either."
Vetha was twisting a heavy tassle in her hands, and looking quite uncomfortable. "Lying isn't a big addition to your list of crimes, Tarcuna. I suppose you might think you can't dishonor yourself any more deeply. But that nonsense about cyoziworms isn't even a very good lie. Nobody believes it. If I were you, I should just just say, 'I needed money, so I took up the one trade that my natural inclinations suited me for and led me to.'"
Tarcuna frowned. "Let us leave aside the question about just why I needed money, when, after all, my parents haven't yet managed to squander all of grandpa's inheritance yet. Actually I didn't need money that much. I was a waitress at Billy's. But you really ought to believe about the worms. It's true."
"It's preposterous," said Vetha.
"It's true. Prof. Wulpmegarn and lots of others saw them. That was in the paper too."
"My dear Tarcuna!" Vetha's adjective made my veriception sneeze. "There were three dragons in the room. Including the one who tortured Archconsul Shuvanne into surrendering the country! I should imagine that your Wulpmegarn would have been quite glad to swear to the papers that Virtuet is dark and Curset is light!" She sat up a bit straighter. "If he's not a cunya altogether!"
"That's not a word I approve of in the presence of my daughter," said Mogen.
"What does it mean, anyway? It sounds almost like a certain rude word for one of the nicest parts of a woman's body," said Tarcuna.
"And it sounds almost like the last half of your name, which is where it comes from," said Vetha. "And what it means is, a collaborator with the dragons. I don't know for sure everything you've done, but I do know you've given us that word." She crossed her legs primly. "At least you had the good luck not to use the family name for it."
Tarcuna picked up a stained-glass lamp in her good hand, and threw it clumsily at the photographs on a wall. "And you aren't so much a mother as an earthly incarnation of the Lady of Peppers."
"We'll have no more of that, young lady," said Vetha. "Now get out of my house, and go back to your dragons, and stop troubling decent people anymore."
They tossed a few more insults back and forth, with Mogen waving his arms and trying to calm them down. Neither one wanted to be calmed, though. Theirs was an old fight, and a bitter one.
"And how, exactly, are you keeping those dragons in line? The Magic Horn says you're sharing a hotel room with one of them! I think that the implications of that word 'cunya' are very precise in your case, My Daughter the Traitor Whore!"
"I am doing no such thing!" said Tarcuna. Veriception said she was lying. Memory, of course, said she was telling the truth. I resolved to ask her about that, though I haven't, yet. "I shan't stay here and be insulted!" She got up, kicked the chair over, and clomped through the front door.
"If the truth is an insult, you are certainly living your life wrong!" shouted Vetha after her, sounding glad to get the last word.
Tarcuna pulled me out of her pouch. "Did I say something about you shouldn't kill my mother? I didn't mean it." She was lying, but not very much.
I coiled around her wrist. "Yes, you did mean it. And even if you didn't, I'm not killing people for your convenience. If you want them dead, you can do it yourself."
"I'm almost tempted. I come back trying to apologize and make up, and she starts with the insults," lied Tarcuna.
I didn't much want to argue with her about that. "Try again in a few years. Once Ythac gets to work, being the dragons' ally won't seem like such a bad thing."
Fortunately Tarcuna doesn't have veriception.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
More Storming Off
|
"I thought you said Dorday was fun," said Arilash in a rather whiny voice, in Petty Draconic. She was draped artistically over Csirnis in the lobby of the Grand Hotel Dorday Elysium. They had been up to something more appropriate for a mating flight than what I had been doing with Tarcuna, from the smell of it.
"It was fun, the first time I was here," I protested. I was myself again, or rather the small-sized version of myself that I was using for this leg of the trip.
"I'm afraid that it's coming off as a bit awkward socially," said Csirnis. He gave me a big golden smile, with barbels spread.
"Your display of beauty will not help you!" I hissed at him. "I still recognize that you are not pleased with my choice of city!"
Osoth crept from behind a potted fake tree. "Indeed, a strange restlessness has fallen thickly upon us all, with you as the sole exception. Now, the phantoms of departure beckon us onward, forward, farward to some distant realm wherein we may, perhaps, find something closer to the heart's desire."
That earned him a lightning bolt. Just a tiny one, but the accompanying thunderclap sent the hoven hotel staff scurrying away and even got Tarcuna to frown. "I'm supposed to be your heart's desire. Or Arilash if your heart desires sharing."
Osoth looked hurt. "One may acquire the occasional misconception about what is desire for me, and what is tactics. Case in point: I desire to act honorably; thus I hold to promises made for tactical reasons in a very different situation."
"He said 'no'," Arilash translated.
"It is far from obvious that I did. Indeed, it is far from obvious what 'no' might mean, under the circumstances," Osoth clarified. Unclarified, actually.
"Dorday's not going to get much better," said Nrararn, on the hotel's registration desk. "The Magic Horn said that tourism is down by 90% from this time last year."
"How much is that in real numbers?" asked Arilash.
Nrararn tightened his wings to concentrate on the math. "Ten and three-quarters twelfths. The whole country is scared, and people don't want to go away from home in case some extra disaster happens. By 'disaster' they mean 'dragons'. Especially they don't want to come here, since according to the Magic Horn, Dorday is crawling with dragons."
"More room for us, then," I said.
"More closed attractions, and more resentment from the hovens running the ones that are open," said Csirnis softly.
I had obviously gotten outmaneuvered again, with the whole rest of the mating flight deciding on what to do next without mentioning it to me. Getting out without bleeding fiancée points all over the Grand Hotel Dorday Elysium lobby was going to be hard. I wrote a quick urgent note to Ythac, and got back a quick urgent answer. "Patthakadu, then?"
Arilash peered at me. "What does that mean? What language is that, even?"
"It's a big city in northern Damma. Also it's a big forest and game preserve," I said, sounding just as if I had investigated the whole of Damma thoroughly and picked the best place after much careful consideration. Actually I had picked the best place, I just didn't know why. "Thank you, Ythac, for your finding spell!"
Everydragon blinked at me. "You want to go? We thought you'd want to stay in Dorday."
"Dorday's only a good tourist spot if you're clever and skillful enough to blend in with the hovens, to win their trust and lull them into complacency!" I explained. "As I did last time." I count that as winning a few fiancée points, or at least losing fewer.
Tarcuna gave me a very odd look. "What are you say you are hoven?" She was trying to speak Petty Draconic, and making a total hash of it.
"We're going to leave Dorday. I am trying to talk the others into going to Patthakadu, in Damma," I said. The other dragons nodded — yay, I had my fiancée points! If anyone else was keeping any score anymore, which I don't think they were, since I'm the only one who had even started out doing it.
What I gained in fiancée points, I lost in loyal minion points. Tarcuna looked rather hurt. "I haven't seen Kangbok yet."
"Then stay and see her," said Nrararn. "This isn't your mating flight, after all. If Jyothky wants a servant, well, there are grands upon grands of people in Damma, most of them terribly poor and eager to get hired."
"She's not my servant exactly. More of a minion," I said. "If I wanted a servant, I'd get one with two working arms."
"If you were better at healing magic, I'd have two working arms," said Tarcuna.
"If I were better at healing magic, I'd start by fixing your broken psyche, so you'd have the least bit of caution back. And better sense about insulting dragons."
Tarcuna shrugged. "It's all borrowed time anyway. Do I get time to pack at least?"
"Go pack now, if you want to come with us. We're still deciding where to go."
Patthakadu, of course.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Patthakadu (Day 169)
|
Damma wanted us.
Also, of course, Damma didn't want us.
Damma is a very big country, larger and more diverse than Trest. It has the Chidana mountains, huge and vicious, against which the Khamrou range would be small and very innocent foothills. It has the flood plains of the Mumtarry river and its many tributaries, so green with corn and mustard, beans and cabbages and the thousand spices of Dammese cooking that they can be seen from the other side of the sky. Patthakadu and Tethettha are cities as urban and sophisticated as Dorday and Perstra, at least in the wealthier quarters. Bhalata is ancient and holy, and the huts of the gods are unchanged since the earliest days.
And the politics is just as messy. The Mother Spice Party is more or less on top of the country, ruling with occasional stunning flashes of adequacy. The SNKVhH — a few people told me what that stands for, but I can't remember — opposes Mother Spice at every turn. Fifty-eight registered minority parties swap back and forth between the two main poles at their convenience. Then there are the religious parties. Damma has lots of religious parties. Damma has lots of religions, each of them with lots of gods, some of whom are the same as other gods. I don't think that even the Dammans have a very good idea of everything going on in Damma.
Fortunately, we're not trying to understand Damma, or even rule Damma. We're just trying to get official permission to use Patthakadu and environs for a few years.
Our approach was straightforwardness itself:
Fly from Dorday towards Patthakadu.
Realize halfway there that we might want to warn Patthakadu first.
Ask Ythac to have what's left of his Diplomatic Brigade send them a message.
Spend two and five-twelfths hours trying to calm Ythac, apologize to Ythac, and otherwise get Ythac to understand that we're not actually tossing him into the volcano of his husband and his country all by himself.
I (carrying Tarcuna) fly back to Perstra, while Arilash and the drakes go to Patthakadu.
I stay up very late talking with Ythac about nothing in particular. We actually sleep together, in a somnolent but not adulterous sense. Llredh, according to Ythac, finds something else to amuse himself with.
Csirnis somehow talks the Spice Mother Party and the SNKVhH into provisionally letting us stay in Patthakadu with official blessing. I do not think that anyone specifically points out quite how imposing it will be to have five of the seven dragons on Hove living in their country. The official blessing is conditional on some sort of religious test, in which the nation's gods get a chance to reject us. Since they're not real, we are not particularly worrried.
Tarcuna, smelling considerably of soap and perfume, and I, smelling considerably of tired drake and no sex, fly on to Patthakadu. Of course Arilash's the Melismatic Tempest has worn off, so the trip takes over a day and many broken ribs thanks to the utterly cursed the Dozenwing Dozentail.
Which, unfortunately, makes it one of the best-conceived and best-executed plans we have ever devised.
We have been given the Imperial Patthakadu Cavalry Academy as our home for the next few years. Convenient, I suppose, because cavalry hasn't been used in the army in over a century, so they had just started shutting the academy down. (Damma doesn't make changes over-hastily.) By the time I got there, the others had voted four to zero that everyone would look like themselves, with none of the size-changes that satisfied absolutely nobody in Dorday.
"That's fine," I said.
"So we're sleeping in the buildings that are big enough for us to sleep in," said Nrararn apologetically.
"I can concede that there might be some advantage to that approach, compared to the possibility of sleeping in buildings that we do not fit in," I said.
"Well, you might want to sleep out of doors for a few weeks, even though it rains every night," said Nrararn, as he showed me to my sleeping chamber. Which was a stable, again. The Royal Stable in Strobland had had a floor of mighty flagstones, tilted and drained, and washed every day by heroic Stroblander stable hands. The Imperial Patthakadu Cavalry Academy was built and maintained to different standards. The floors were dirt. Dirt packed by centuries of hoven hooves and horse hooves, to be sure. Dirt cleaned by Dammese peasants, who, as far as I could tell, had not been heroic. I didn't dare go in.
"I'll either sleep outdoors, or bite my tongue off so I can't smell it," I said. "Can't you use some sky magic to air it out a bit?"
Nrararn's tail drooped. "I tried most of yesterday." He pointed a wing to the other side of the parade ring. "That is no longer a stinking barn."
"It is no longer a barn at all," I pointed out. The boards of its walls and roof were scattered over a hundred yards, and a dozen peasants were gathering them.
"Yet, it still stinks," said Nrararn sadly. "Csirnis is trying to arrange for some tents."
I flomped on the well-horsed ground. "Csirnis should arrange to bite off the prime minister's toes. This isn't much of a place to live, compared to the Grand Hotel Dorday Elysium."
Nrararn trickled his foreclaws over my head tenderly. (I thought for a while and decided to take it as a comforting gesture rather than an utterly unnecessary and inexcusable bit of ignoring my basic flaw. I was too tired to have a proper fight.) "I'm sorry, Jyothky. Csirnis is arranging to get new buildings built, actually."
"I suppose that's more practical than biting off toes," I said.
By eveningtime, two big tents had been procured. Nrararn and Arilash shared one of them, vigorously. Csirnis and Osoth shared the other, chastely. I turned into a seabird and slept on the back of a chair in Tarcuna's dorm room, also chastely.
We should have stayed in Dorday.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
I Win The Sex Contest! (Day 188)
|
Arilash and I had a sex contest today and I won!
We were at the Erotic Temple of Patthakara, all devoted to hovens mating with each other for the glory of some of their gods. I don't understand the theology one bit. And I got the devious idea. I said, "Arilash! We have three males here, for a total of nine male members! That's an odd number! I challenge you thus: Each member will be used once, by one of us. Whoever has used more of them in the end, wins!"
Well, she could hardly refuse that contest! And it was sort of a performance piece, it fit the style of the Patthakara complex quite nicely. We had grosses of hovens watching us, just sitting on the steps of the temple or under the spreading uulama trees, eating their picnics and watching and sometimes filming.
I am the devious little dragoness though! I made sure that Arilash got two turns with Csirnis, on the larger and thus slower two hemipenes. Csirnis does not do things by halves. He does not rush. He can be quite distracting, in the most pleasant way, to a dragoness who is capable of feeling his distractions. I am not nearly so pleasant. I hope not unpleasant — the ghee helps a good deal, and after the first few rounds I was quite sloppy and sloshy with drake-juices anyway. Nor so distractable: I kept an eye on Arilash, though she mostly had eyes for her drake-of-the-moment.
Anyway, when I had finished my fourth twine, which was with Osoth, Arilash and Csirnis were all lovingly tangled up together, their tails flopping in the reflecting pool, and they looked as if they'd be glad to enjoy each other for another hour or two. So I grinned at Nrararn, and called him over, and he was my fifth round.
And when Arilash and Csirnis finished, my rival knew that she had been defeated in a contest in her area of strength.
By my superior powers of arithmetic.
(I doubt that I'll ever win a sex contest again. I've managed to twine the three drakes maybe half a dozen times since the Hide and Seek game, total, compared to Arilash's keeping them all pretty happy for most of that time.)
Oh, well, I do what I can do. I'm pretty sure that everyone enjoyed the contest, anyway.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Fury! (Day 274)
|
I am so angry.
Two days ago, Tarcuna sort of vanished. One of the servants told me she had gone off with an appealingly spherical local woman, and said to tell me she'd be back in a few days. I didn't much blame her. She's rather bored here, being my retainer in a situation where I don't need retaining. There aren't even many books in Trestean to be had. She's trying to learn Petty Draconic — but we don't have any books in that — and trying to learn any of the Dammese languages at the same time wouldn't be easy.
I mostly hoped that her romances were going better than mine.
This afternoon, one of the servants gave me a telegraph.
First of all, the telegraph was in a hybrid of Petty Draconic and Ghemelian, rendered as well as possible (not very!) in squirmy Dammese characters. I had to use the Word-Fox several times to make sense out of it.
Dear Jyothky,
I hope that the circumstances of your mating flight have become more pleasant than in the early phases. I offer my condolences for the death of Greshthanu and the departure of Tultamaan, though I hope that the composition and character of your remaining harem of suitors is more to your liking, and that you have found sufficient means for satisfying interdraconic relationships despite your technical difficulties.
It is my unfortunate obligation to inform you that my slaves have kidnapped your companion Tarcuna and brought her to the Pit of Despair Prison in downtown Ghemel. I completely acknowledge that this is unconscionably rude, though I hope it stops short of the start of outright hostilities. I need to invite you, in person, alone, to the Pit of Despair Prison (the name is inherited from the days of Uncle Holder and is no longer strictly accurate). It goes without saying that Tarcuna will be released unharmed into your custody as soon as possible, unless truly regrettable circumstances compel otherwise.
In any case, I look forward to greeting you at the Pit of Despair, and proferring my most sincere and spirit-felt (for I lack an actual heart) apologies for my actions. Please be aware that I have collected the most valuable and portable treasures of Ghemel in the Pit of Despair, and am prepared to emphasize my apology which any or all of them.
I'm afraid that the invitation is for yourself alone. We cannot accomodate even a single dragon more in suitable style, although, should uninvited guests arrive, the divine magic of Mhel combines with Hove's military science exceedingly well. It might well suffice to discourage unanticipated guests. It will certainly suffice to kill a hoven already in our clutches. This inhospitality, though regrettable and indeed regretted, is quite temporary. After events have completely satisfied their evolution, you and your companions may help yourselves to the valuables of Ghemel with my (admittedly vile) blessing.
Your regrettably wicked friend,
Xolgrohim
The primary fury: My friend Xolgrohim — or self-proclaimed friend Xolgrohim — has kidnapped my second-best friend in anywhere, and is using her as bait to lure me into a trap! Aside from the obvious difficulties and inconvenience of that, I do not approve of my friends behaving badly towards each other.
The secondary fury: After a bit of consideration, I can't tell my mating flight about it. I would lose so many fiancée points, there'd be no counting them. I'm sure I could find something more humiliating to do than announce to everyone that I had lost track of my pet hoven and they had to go rescue her. I can't think of what, though.
Still, I am not without resources.
"Ythac? Do you have time to chat?"
"Only if it's supremely urgent do I have time this hour, and you and Llredh are the only two who can call on that degree of urgency. Can it wait for an hour and a third?" he answered, and his mindwriting looked a bit ragged.
"It can wait that long, Ythac." Flying to Ghemel would take much more than an hour and a third.
I'm not a complete idiot. (Eleven-twelfths an idiot I will grant you without the least bit of argument.) I wrote the mating flight a detailed note about what I was doing, and gave it to a slow but reliable servant to copy several times and send to everyone through the slow but unreliable Damman postal system.
So: fly, fly, fly. I had lots of time to think, and not much else to do. I made a few guesses about Xolgrohim's plans and intentions.
Nearly an hour later, over one of Damma's interminable jungles: "Right. Executions are properly arranged and sentences commuted for tomorrow. What did you want, Jyothky? Your words looked worried."
"I am worried." ...and I transcribed Xolgrohim's whole telegram to him.
"Well, that's not good," he wrote back.
"That it is not," I answered.
"No — what's not good is that Tarcuna is hidden from finding spells. I can't help very much from here."
"Oh, that is bad. I didn't know paingods could do that," I said.
"I didn't either. I wish I could give you useful clues here, Jyothky, but I don't have many. Do you want Llredh and me to come with you?"
"I do, but I don't know whether or not it's a good idea. If he's being honest, he's not going to hurt me, and he'd try to kill you if you came."
"What makes you say that?"
"My best guess is, he's trying to kill my parents for killing him. Osoth didn't exactly say very much about it, but that sounds like a very undead reason to do something like this."
"That's one possibility. Maybe he's just trying to get revenge however he can. Killing his killer's child might satisfy him just as well as killing his killers would."
I had been avoiding thinking about that option. "Probably that's not it." I waved some textual exegesis of bits of the telegraph at him. Unpersuasively, since we weren't sure that anything was compelling Xolgrohim to be truthful.
"So, the only thing we're pretty sure of is that Xolgrohim is trying to kill some dragons. Maybe you, maybe your parents. Maybe your parents preferably, but failing that, you. So I am not particularly happy about you flying there alone," Ythac wrote. "Fiancée points won't do you much good if you're dead. If Arilash or anyone is paying any attention to them, which I doubt."
I scribbled "Well, find out what weapons he's got for me, and I'll do something appropriate."
"The most appropriate thing would be to leave your hoven there. Poor Tarcuna, but you're a lot more important than she is." Which is both sensible and true, but I was having none of it. So Ythac poked at the Mystery Zone with his best far-range information spells, but Xolgrohim had blocked them. "That's all I can do from here. If I were nearby, I could do a lot more."
"So come nearby," I wrote back.
"You don't mind? You're flying off like some heroine from before the astral era. Thought you might want to do it alone."
"Esrret's star! I want whatever help I can get! Besides, you had better help me for your own sake. Your parents offended him nearly as much as mine did. If we let him live succeed this time, he'll be after you next. With more expertise for him, and fewer allies for you. You and Llredh had better be flying right outside the Mystery Zone, ready to swoop in for rescue or revenge!"
"Hold on..." I waited a while. "Llredh says that yes, he'd absolutely rather fight an undead paingod than spend a single hour more on the new constitution."
Which sounds like a plan to me, and a better one than flying into the Pit of Despair all alone.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
(Day 277)
|
There wasn't any great hurry to rescue Tarcuna, not really. Xolgrohim didn't much want to kill her, we guessed. If he did want to (or anything else), he would have done it already.
"Unless he is trying to bring you woe, Jyothky. Or give you a distracting fury," said Ythac.
"I don't think he actually hates me," I argued. "My parents, certainly, they killed him. Killing me would annoy them a little. Killing my hoven friend whom they've never met wouldn't bother them at all."
"I should go in there with you," said Ythac. "Xolgrohim won't want to kill me. If he hates my father too — and he ought to — killing me would only save my father the trouble."
"Have you heard from Rankotherium?" I asked.
"I've told my mother about Llredh. She's not very happy. I don't know if she's told my father or not. Let's think about your lich-god problem now, please, Jyothky?"
But there wasn't very much we could do from outside the Mystery Zone. Except to stare at the Mystery Zone itself. It was a sticky dysparallel mess of astral magic, a rough hypersphere woven of loose burlappy cables, mostly for detection, and shot through with the scratchy tin wires of painspells. Blinding-spells grew like stinking mushrooms here and there, mostly around the Pit of Despair and one of the palaces, blocking many of Ythac's attempts to discover anything. (But we had excellent maps, made during Trest's invasion and occuption, current up to and excluding the capture and enslavement of both countries by astral monsters from beyond the curve of the universe.) Nothing was terribly strong, but there was a lot of it — and we felt the theoceptive prickling of the loose god about. And of course it wasn't that much like dragon magic, and we had only a loose idea of exactly how it would behave.
Ythac and Llredh insisted on doing every kind of research they could think of. So we interrogated some terrified local farmers, thus:
All three of us landed in a triangle around a lentil-field where barehoofed peasants labored in thick mud. Llredh roared, "Innocent farmers! Fearing and fleeing, you must do neither of these!"
The most organized and clever of the peasants tried to figure out what Llredh had said. The rest, naturally, tried to run away from him. Ythac and I blocked them with wings and tails and such. "Please don't run away. We just want to ask you a few questions about what's happened in Ghemel. We'll pay for the information, in healing."
After two-thirds of an hour of determined, iron-willed, fierce peasant calming, punctuated with healing sunburn, blisters, day-old scorpion stings, and a lost finger that wasn't going to grow back but didn't need to be infected about it, we had three peasants to talk to. And a dozen others to farm desultorily and pretend they could rescue their friends if they got into trouble.
"What happened in Ghemel?" we asked.
"Don't know for certain," they said. "All we know is, anyone who crosses Pran ad'Darak Street screams and screams like they was being boiled alive or something, then turns and walks into the city and never comes back out."
"We've seen hovens walking around in the city. Do you know what goes on in there?", we asked.
"Not for sure 'n certain, that we don't. My cousin says they're mostly building things in there," said the youngest informant.
"What does your cousin know that you don't?"
"Probably a lot, if it please you. He's been in there since nearly the beginning, and he's important in there," said the informant.
Well, that was interesting. "You can talk to people inside?"
"Oh, sure. We bring food and things to Damarrhu Market, just on this side of Pran ad'Darak, and people from the city come out and buy it. Sometimes they stay and talk. Not like proper people visiting their friends on market day, they won't sit down and drink mint tea and sit and catch up with old friends. But they'll say a few words," said our peasant.
"And what do they say?"
"Well, Murghal neng Nhestravvath came back from the desert with a doomsome demon as an ally. He's harnessed everyone in the city up with pain. If they don't do exactly what he says, right prompt, they hurt so bad that they'd cut their throat with a hacksaw to make it feel better. I know that for a fact. Murghal made some of the Trestean soldiers do it in the grand square, my cousin says. He was terrible before, now he is a thousand times terrible."
Llredh refurrowed the lentil-field with a foreclaw. "My soldiers and my husband's soldiers, that is who these soldiers that Murghal kills are! With Murghal, with Xolgrohim, there will be a reckoning and a night of fire! What hoven, what god, contends against me and endures? There is none! There can be none!"
"I go first," I said. "Those soldiers were never yours; Murghal took them before you conquered Trest. Tarcuna was mine before that, even. So I have precedence."
"I cede precedence!" roared Llredh. "But what of Murghal you do not destroy, that much is mine to destroy!"
"Especially if I get killed or captured," I said.
Llredh breathed his assent as a column of flame, pouring miles into the sky, and most of the peasants fled. Ythac watched his husband. "Llredh, I was not sure until this very moment if they knew we were out here."
"Bah! Drakes and dragonesses, we are these! The dead god should quail and cower before us!"
"The dead god is well-prepared, and intentionally tugged Jyothky's tail to get her here. I don't think he'll be quailing or cowering very much," said Ythac quietly.
"Then he knows we are here! Or if not for certain, than he acts as if we were!" roared Llredh. "The secrecy for sneaking and creeping around in private, we never had her!"
"Very comforting, Llredh. I'll go round up our peasants again. Maybe they can tell us more," I said, and did, which wasn't so easy.
"Llredh is very angry at Murghal," I said. "Llredh is the dragon who conquered Trest, too. I don't think Murghal will be around much longer."
The peasants allowed as how that might be a good thing. "He won't let us leave here, anyway, and he won't pay for food for the city."
"How does he keep you?"
"Cross the Bul Alen river and it hurts. Don't bring food to the market, and it hurts," said the peasant.
"Typical paingod approach to economics... The more you can tell us about what's going on in there, the less we'll have to wreck... and the less chance we'll have of killing your cousin."
Which uncalmed the peasant rather. "Why are you killing my cousin? Murghal is doing that already!"
"Is he alive or dead?" Ghemelian uses different verb forms for the two, and the cousin had been getting the living forms. Fortunately we didn't need to talk about Xolgrohim much with the peasants; I don't know what verb forms to use for the living dead.
"My cousin Khudris is big, my cousin Khudris is strong, my cousin Khudris is tough from farming and farming! So Murghal called him to the Pit of Despair Hospital two months ago and did a fearsome surgery upon him! Now loops of shining grey metal sprout out around his spine, spikes of metal from his shoulders, barbs pierce his cheeks, gemstones are his eyes, stained-glass lamps his ears!"
Ythac and Llredh and I looked at each other. "Really? Why on Hove would he do a thing like that? Did your cousin Khudris offend him and need to be tortured? — but that sounds like a very strange and difficult torture. A paingod must have easier, cheaper ones."
"My cousin says that he has been made a god himself! I think he has been! He bought a thousandweight of beans and tomatoes. No cart brought he! He spread his arms and the beans and tomatoes floated over him, and he walked them thus into the tortured city!" said the peasant.
"Niobium Apotheosis Coils," said Ythac.
"What?" said Llredh and I.
"It sounds like the technology that the mhelvul used to become gods, before our parents conquered Mhel," said Ythac. "Of course Xolgrohim knows how to do it; he was one of those gods. It's sort of like the Great Separation for us: a few mhelvul survived, but they gained a presence in the astral realm."
"So I'm not facing one god in there. I'm facing... dozens? hundreds?"
"You had better go as soon as you can, Jyothky," said Ythac, arching his head over to me.
I bopped him on the muzzle with my left ear. "You're that eager to get rid of me?"
"I'm thinking that a new-made god isn't going to be that skilled with his powers. How good were you a month or two after your Great Separation, after all?"
"Terrible. I was mostly throwing tantrums about not being able to feel anymore," I said. "I didn't want to learn magic."
"I'm sorry. I didn't know you missed it," said Ythac.
"Oh, I've been complaining about it constantly in my diary... Actually, Ythac, do me another favor?" I fished my diary — not including this entry — out, and gave it to him. "If I die, and anyone misses me, have them read this. It's the diary."
We embraced in the lane outside the lentil fields, while Llredh and some wondering peasants looked on. No, not that kind of embrace.
Just a farewell kind.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Into the Trap
|
I flew straight and fast to the Pit of Despair Prison; secrecy seemed pointless. I wore every defensive spell that Llred or Ythac or I could cast, and scribbled notes to Ythac constantly. Like, "Ghemel looks worse every time I fly over it. Xolgrohim's been ripping homes down and building factories and smelting plants." Not that I particularly needed the distraction, but if I got killed, best if Ythac knew what was going on for purposes of revenge.
"I wish I could find out why that was," wrote Ythac. Information mages always hate not knowing things.
"I'll ask him if I see him," I scribbled back.
And there was the Pit of Despair Prison: a huge complex surrounded by thin walls of powdery stone pierced by several roads. There was a great deal of new construction, mostly in a ring around the Pit of Despair proper, and the air stank of iron and oil-smoke and chemicals, and the despair of hovens. The trap proper was nicely marked, with a big sign on a building saying "Welcome, Jyothky. This way to Tarcuna."
The arrow pointed down into the pit.
I circled the prison in the air, watching, thinking. Well, I could... Destroy all the surrounding buildings? And maybe kill Tarcuna if she's being kept there. Oh, and certainly kill lots of Xolgrohim's hoven pawns. Turn into something tiny and try to infiltrate? Silly at this point, and undignified. Ask Ythac? "Sorry, no good advice," was his answer.
"I'm just going to follow the arrow and fly into the trap," I said. So I tried. Actually I had to land on a conveniently placed and non-dangerous ledge and climb down, since the pit wasn't big enough for much flapping of wings and I didn't want to use a levitation spell that anygod could swat away and tumble me inelegantly into the pit. They had conveniently installed a very solid wooden staircase, with heavy beams stuck out of the steel-clad walls of the pit, just big enough for me, so this was obviously part of Xolgrohim's plan.
As I climbed down, I heard a tremendous grinding of gears from overhead. Three huge metal jaws were closing off the top of the Pit of Despair, snipping me off from the light of Virtuet. "I think I know what Xolgrohim has been foundering," I told Ythac.
"Foundreying. Yes, it sounds that way. There's your trap, I guess."
"Not much of a trap, if that's all. Those doors won't be a dozenth as hard to melt as Kuhankun Mountain," I wrote.
"If that's all, yes," wrote Ythac. "Keep your nineteen senses up, OK?"
"All of them? I am nibbling on the wall now. Yummy!" I wrote. I wasn't, and it wasn't.
The spiral staircase took seven turns around. At the second turn, Tarcuna called up to me: "Jyothky! You came!"
"Oh, hi, Tarcuna. Nice to see you!"
"I was hoping you wouldn't, actually," she said.
I strolled down the staircase, my tail thumping on the wall. "Oh? Got a better companion than an alien monster who mostly ignores you?"
"No, I still love you. But I'm pretty sure this is a trap," she said.
"Absolutely, it's a trap. Did you see the poster, and the doors closing?"
Metal slammed against metal, twice, and hoofsteps tapped out on the pit's floor below. Someone shouted up, "I am afraid that, yes, it is a trap. Please don't be offended." The voice sounded half-familiar.
"Xolgrohim, is that you?" I asked, and looked down. It was Murghal. Rather, it was Murghal's body, with a heavy sevenfold cable of bitter sorcery wrapped around it and trailing off into the distance, and tenasensitive signs of strain everywhere. "Or Murghal?"
"Xolgrohim, using Murghal's body," he said, and I saw the cables twitch with each word. "Perhaps I could explain the conditions of the trap in a bit more detail, to start with, and thereby avoid or at least postpone unpleasantness?"
"Nice little puppet you've got there," I said. The stairs ended thirty feet above the floor, so I leapt down to the middle of the clear half of the room. It wasn't safe, but its loud hiss of menace was all potential. Tarcuna ran over and hugged my foreleg, and I folded a wing around her protectively.
"Well, the most important thing to remember about the trap is the walls. I know you could burn your way out of anything on Hove. But these walls are special. They are a sandwich. The outer layers are steel — enough steel, I believe, so that you cannot easily claw or bite your way through them; you will have to breathe. The inner layer is a very insidious sort of filling. It is ampoules of various chemicals. If you burn them, or pierce them, they will form any number of fearsome toxic vapors, which flood the pit. I am not sure if they will kill you or not, though they are quite strong. They will certainly kill Tarcuna," said Xolgrohim, in a smallish voice.
"So I shouldn't grab Tarcuna and burn my way out of here," I said, and relayed Xolgrohim's words to Ythac.
"Exactly! I knew you would be sensible!" he beamed. "Now, the floor."
"The very dangerous floor," I said, since dangersense was rather howling about it.
"Don't listen to him! It's twistor guns!" shouted Tarcuna.
"Excuse me, Tarcuna, but I am having a conversation with Jyothky at the moment. You should not interrupt," said Xolgrohim.
"Actually, I am at least as interested in what Tarcuna has to say as in what you have to say," I told him.
Xolgrohim smiled apologetically. "Very well then! Feel free to interrupt as you wish, Tarcuna. The floor is very thin, just big enough to support you and the other contents of the room. Beneath it are three of the largest twistor projectors I could manage in the few months that I had available to me. They are not, unfortunately, up to the standards of the Peace Everywhere Array, though they do have a range of some dozens or hundreds of miles. At a word to my gunners, though, they will entirely fill the Pit of Despair with torque. I do not know for certain that even that will kill you, but I rather suspect it might. I am certain about what it will do to poor, interrupt-prone Tarcuna."
"I have destroyed many large twistor guns," I said.
"And no doubt you could destroy these as well! But they are arranged so that any destruction of the gun itself will also set off the torque battery. Again, that might not kill you, but it will be a remarkably potent occurrence, which Tarcuna may find unfavorable," said Xolgrohim.
I thought about the devastation that even a single battery had caused: more dangerous than my strongest breath by far. "An excellent precaution! When I destroyed the Peace Everywhere Array, I worked from a distance, but in your poison-walled pit, that approach is not available."
He beamed. "Exactly. Exactly! It is a pleasure working with you, Jyothky."
"What, precisely, do you mean by 'working'?"
Ythac's wrote to me in letters jagged with alarm, "Jyothky! Dragons!" Xolgrohim said something too, but I didn't catch it.
"Who? Arilash and Csirnis?"
"No, no, the sky over Khamrou Voresc is crawling with dragons. More than a dozen of them."
"Oh, dear. Send them my greetings, I suppose. At least can you find out who they are?" I looked back at Xolgrohim. "I'm sorry, but I was lost in thought for a moment. Could you repeat that?"
"Well, I don't specifically want to catch you, Jyothky. Your parents killed me, as you may recall. It is certainly a flaw in my personality — I regard it as such in any case — but I cannot refrain from trying to kill them in exchange. Or, failing that, to bring them whatever degree of sorrow and woe I can."
"Jyothky won't cooperate with you!" shouted Tarcuna.
"I certainly don't want to make my parents unhappy, or dead," I said. "Nor you, nor myself."
"If you risk your own life to save mine, I am going to kill myself!" said Tarcuna.
"You have the oddest concept of helping me, Tarcuna," I said. "Please, let's let Xolgrohim tell us his plans before anyone kills herself to foil them?" She threw herself to the metal floor by my feet, stinking of anger and shame.
"Now that you have, temporarily, subdued our loquacious and lecherous lure, may I explain your role in the upcoming festivities?" asked Xolgrohim.
"Tultamaan's back. Chevethna back from her mating flight, Arthane flying next to her so I bet they're married, Ignissa back from her mating flight, Vuuthon, Ressal,... Kuro for heaven's sake,... lots of dragons I don't know," wrote Ythac.
"That's bad," I said. That many dragons my age, already mated, are probably here for conquering.
"I should be fascinated to hear it," I said. I curled my tail around Tarcuna, and cast the Library in Scales and wrote to her, "After he has finished, we will discuss our next step privately. Now please let's listen. I'm trying to write to Ythac too, and if I'm not careful I'm going to get horribly confused."
"Bad, bad. I'm holding territory now. It might be me and Llredh against fifteen of our age-peers," wrote Ythac.
"Well. Ressal and Tultamaan barely count. And I'll help you when I get out of here," I said.
"All right, all right, I'll be quiet," said Tarcuna. "For now. If you're going to kill me, Xolgrohim, I at least get to tell you what I think of you first." She cuddled into the arc of my tail.
"Four to one is certainly an improvement over seven to one. Are you getting out soon?" asked Ythac.
Xolgrohim spread Murghal's hands apologetically. "For the moment, I simply request that you — both of you — remain in the Pit of Despair. My part-time messenger on Mhelvul should earn his extravagant pay soon, or so I hope, and your parents should arrive within, perhaps, a day or two? You know them better than I do: how long would you guess they would delay when their darling daughter is in deadly danger?"
I paused, as if to consider the question, but actually to write "Not sure. I might need to do something stupid and humiliating, like promise to come right back after the fight," Then I said, out loud, "Last time, they came in a hurry, but that was easier. They'd have to get directions here, and find someone to cast the Triangular Cyclonette. And probably another day or several to learn it, so they can get back afterwards," I said.
Xolgrohim laughed. "Yes, I suppose they might think that getting back would be relevant to them and make arrangements. No more hurry than that?"
"I suppose it depends on what your messenger told them, and how much they believed it."
"My powers of sending messages between worlds are not so great, and neither are Tultamaan's. He was supposed to tell Cterion and Uruunma that you had been trapped in the heart of a vast ruby, which your companions' fire was inadequate to melt but which Cterion's own flame probably could. He sent back the chirp that he was to send when he had done so."
I stared at Xolgrohim. He lowered Murghal's gaze, and apologized, "I merely sought some story which would require their presence, and not raise too many suspicions about the actual situation."
I was still staring. "You got Tultamaan as your messenger?", I said out loud, and summarized the matter to Ythac.
"Regular couriers between here and Mhel are infrequent, and their rates are extravagant! There is rarely one available when you want one," Xolgrohim explained.
"We haven't particularly wanted to send many messages back. Arilash told Greshthanu's parents that he had been killed, is the only one. Plus whatever Tultamaan wanted to say," I said.
"Which, I believe, included a dramatization of your capture. Ah, and speaking of that regrettably brutal event, perhaps I shall return to my catalog of brutalities and menaces?" asked the lich-god. Neither of us stopped him. "Well, then, there are few other points of note. Observe the ventilation ducts there, and the servant's entrance by which we provide food and cleaning services? They cannot, inherently, be as well-armored as the walls proper. Nonetheless they are well-defended, by means of mighty electrical currents. Behind them are no fewer than three deified hovens on guard, one of whom was once an enhanced agent of Trest. Even you might find them troublesome in battle."
I opened my organs of theoception, and yes, the place was crawling with minor gods. "Why are you boasting about all of them? You're just giving me that much of an easier time defeating them," I asked. Which was a stupid question — I should have let him explain.
"Ah, but I hope that my precautions are never actually necessary. If they are tested, they may succeed, or they may fail; in either case it will be expensive and may well interfere with my ultimate wishes. If they are untested, they will not fail. I should prefer that you know enough not to make the attempt. Your immediate death would not serve me well."
"My immediate death...?"
He smiled. "Well, one possible outcome is that Cterion and Uruunma remain too powerful for me to defeat, even with the tools currently at my disposal. I should be compelled, in that case, to inflict whatever injuries I could arrange, before they inevitably kill me again. Killing you holds no intrinsic pleasure for me, but killing you in front of their eyes would be a passable second choice. And, in case it is not clear, killing you before they arrive would be a distinctly inferior third choice, but still provide a form of revenge. So do not take my wish to preserve your life as too much of an encouragement to attempt to fight your way out of the Pit."
"Time for me to be a bit crafty," I wrote to Tarcuna. Out loud, I said, "So, either I can try to escape and your traps and gods might kill me, or I can stay and you probably will kill me."
"I should judge the probabilities in the reverse," he said. "My traps and gods will probably kill you. If you stay, I might kill you."
"You underestimate both me and my parents!"
"Forgive me! I withdraw all measures of probability! In either case, it is possible but not certain that you will be killed."
I spread my ears. "Well, then. Give me some extra reason to want to say!"
"Observe the caskets and armoires behind you," Xolgrohim said with a wave. "The contain many treasures of Ghemelia..." He yelped as I breathed sparks at him.
I snarled. "Treasure-hunting is for drakes. I am a dragoness. This attempt to bribe me is an insult to my future husband!"
"I meant no offense! I am regrettably ignorant of draconic etiquette!"
I towered over the body my captor wore. "No, I want something else. Something that you alone can provide."
Murghal flattened his ears in fear, but Xolgrohim, being far away, was not much impressed. "My resources are at your disposal, save for certain necessities — large of a martial nature — I wish to keep for my own purposes..."
"I haven't felt anything since I was six years old," I said. "I miss it, as much as you miss life itself. And your powers concern the sense of feeling."
Xolgrohim dipped Murghal's head. "With all due respect, my specialty is pain. I have a limited selection of spells for pleasure, but they are not my strongest."
"Start with them!" I roared.
"Certainly," he said, and concocted a gleaming clove-scented lump of (metaphorically) lace and crumbs on the astral plane and stretched out his hand to put it in my head. I reared my vô away to let him do it. It sat right in the chasm in my psyche where feeling ought to go.
"Is it in?" I asked.
"I have activated it. Do you feel anything? A sensation as of a thousand mhelvul lips kissing you everywhere, perhaps?"
"Not a thing," I said. "Pity. You'll have to try harder."
He tried harder, indeed, did Xolgrohim. He chanted and wriggled Murghal's fingers. He danced the most ominious jig that I could imagine a hoven dancing. He called for skull rattles and a necklace of bloodied feathers, and built a bonfire of wood and the bones of ancient kings. Astrally, he brought forth huge spiky things that stank astrally of asafoedita and terror, and I let him put them into me, too.
Finally one worked, at least a little. The forks of my tongue felt as if they had been dipped in fire.
There's no describing it. Not the sensation itself, you can probably understand that unless you're one of the pawful of dragons injured the way I am. You're probably thinking, "Ow, pain." But you are too used to pain, too used to feeling anything.
This was the best thing I had felt in five dozen years. (Yes, also the worst, but that didn't matter.) It was all I could do not to roll around in happiness. Not pleasure, just happiness.
"Remind me that I should marry Osoth, so he can raise up a tame paingod for me," I asked Tarcuna.
"I don't much like paingods," she said. "Aren't they dangerous?"
"Probably it's a bad idea," I wrote. I grinned a huge grin at Xolgrohim. "Well, that one worked, a little bit."
"A little bit!" he exclaimed. "I have no stronger spells!"
"You couldn't impose pain on a stone," I said, "And my body's not much more than a stone, as far as sensation goes. But my tongue is a bit less broken than the rest of me."
"I am sorry, then, that that spell is the only one that works! If, at some future time, you wish to ransom my non-life, I offer to try to develop a spell that provides more pleasant sensations," he said.
So I yelled at him about how this was the best thing I had felt in five duodecades, and all of that.
"This is not a usual reaction for a paingod's powers!" he said. "But if you proclaim yourself satisfied, far be it from me to argue with you." He looked at me hopefully. "So, now I have provided my best attempt at what you have requested?"
"You have done admirably," I said, and I meant it. "So here is my promise. I shall not attempt to leave the Pit of Despair for so long as this spell lets me feel." I spoke the ancient formula which binds us to our word on pain of dishonor. Though I did say ȑṳsṡ instead of ȑṳṡs, making the vow on pain of dumplings instead. If I ever get in the position of arguing about whether I were dishonored or not, that classic bit of sneakiness would count just a little in my favor. That wasn't my real trick.
Xolgrohim beamed. "I am delighted that we have found a basis for temporary cooperation! I was not hoping for such amity!" He is not any sort of fool though, even if he doesn't speak Grand Draconic, and he added: "You will, I hope, understand and forgive me if the means of imprisonment that are already in place remain in place. It would be impractical to remove them at this late date."
Tarcuna, who maybe has picked up some Petty Draconic, looked horrified. "Jyothky! How can you make such a deal with that!"
I grinned the vicious draconic grin to her. "It's not quite the deal he wants. I promised not to leave the Pit of Despair: nothing more. I will go kill his gods and destroy his projectors, if I can. From inside, as long as I don't leave." That wasn't my real trick either.
Xolgrohim stared Murghal's square eyes at me. "Oh, dear. I did not expect a great deal from a few words, but this is less than I might have hoped. I should have insisted on a vow of greater passivity."
"The vow was not yours to insist upon, foolish paingod!" I thundered. Where by "foolish" I mean "clever enough to catch me in quite a nasty trap" of course.
"Well, of course. Forgive me for the suggestion that it was... and forgive me also, but I would like to remind you that the walls, weapons, and warriors of the Pit of Despair are just as deadly even though you have your vow. Indeed, the reduced flexibility of motion may make them just one bit the deadlier. So I fear that I must recommend that you stay inside of the metal prison of the Pit of Despair, even though it is not strictly required by your vows."
"For now, I am going to enjoy being able to feel!" I roared. I can play arrogant, short-sighted, and self-centered extremely well. It's not very far from the truth.
"I am pleased to have been of some small service to you, even though I have done a greater disservice."
I rolled on my back and enjoyed the pain in my tongue, as long as I had it. And traded a few notes with Tarcuna and Ythac, and completely ignored Xolgrohim. After an hour or two, he politely excused himself, and departed, leaving a rather worried and utterly undefended Murghal with us in the Pit of Despair.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Chapter 41
|
The next thing to do was the hardest thing I have done this whole mating flight. The last sixty years, even. I wrapped my vô around the painspell and crushed the life out of it, as if it was a baby goat in my paw. Well, breaking the spell was easy. Persuading myself to do it was hard.
And the dull blank prison of unfeelingness was back on me again.
"Did it work?" asked Tarcuna.
"Yes. No pain spell anymore. No vow anymore. And no alarms either. I don't think Xolgrohim can tell when his spells are broken." I wrote to her. That was my real trick. "Now, tell me about how you planned to get us out of here?"
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Plotting
|
"How did you know I had a plan?" asked Tarcuna.
"You've been here for days. Of course you have a plan. I tell you now though, if it involves you getting killed for tactical purposes, I'm vetoing it," I wrote back.
"How about a plan where you get out first, then rescue me?"
"I'd rather do it right the first time."
"And I'm a pretty worthless hoven minion," she said. "You're better off without me."
"That's not your judgment to make. If I thought so, I'd have gotten rid of you one of the dozen or two times it was convenient and polite to do so."
"I betrayed you!" she wrote.
Well, that could be a problem. "How did you do that?"
"Xolgrohim asked me all kinds of questions about your powers and everything. I didn't answer, and then he did something that hurt a lot, and I had to answer," she wrote. She snuffled a bit, so I wrapped my tail around her comfortingly.
"Well, of course. I didn't expect that you could stand up to a god. But I am going to kill Xolgrohim for that, you know." And on and on, comforting her, for at least twelve minutes.
She hadn't completely broken though. She didn't exactly lie to Xolgrohim, but she only answered his direct questions, and pretty literally at that. "Like I sort of thought you could turn into animals, but I hadn't seen it myself, so I didn't tell him. I don't think you could get out of the Pit in hoven shape, but couldn't you turn into a hummingbird and fly out?"
I looked at the roof. "There might be cracks up there I could get through."
"I was thinking more the ventilation ducts. They're trapped with electrical cables. But Khudris said the cables are about eight inches apart."
I lick-groomed the last few tears off her face-fur. "Who is Khudris?" (I had forgotten about him.)
"He's one of the Ghemelians who kidnapped me. Xolgrohim did some very strange surgery on him, and he's got metal coils all in his back, and spikes coming out of his face, and a sort of a glass shell over most of them so they don't get bumped. They're very sensitive, and not in a good way."
Which sounds like the devices of the gods of Mhel. And it stands to reason that Xolgrohim would know enough about mhelvul apotheosis technology to reconstruct it here. Which means that Khudris is a young god. "Oh! I'll bet he's got some spells too?"
"Yes. He puts me to sleep sometimes, and carried me floating in the air, and nobody can see us," wrote Tarcuna.
"Convenient. But he was telling you things about the passageways while he was kidnapping you?"
"He's one of the guards here now. He comes in here once in a while. You don't care if I have sex with other people and anybody and don't tell you, do you?" Tarcuna's mental handwriting was rather wobbly.
"It's your body. Put anyone in it that you like. Except another cyoziworm of course; that would upset me."
She sighed, and leaned against my flank. "I thought so. I was thinking and thinking you'd be upset with me for sleeping with all of our jailors."
"All of them?"
"All I could get. I was bored."
"You must have been, if you're sleeping with males." Teasing her about that still feels very odd.
"I can be professional about it! And I can weasel information out of them when I'm sleeping with them. Besides, they're just as much prisoners here as we are, and just as unhappy about it. Maybe more. Xolgrohim has been really brutal with the pain spells on them. On all of Ghemel. They've seen people, ordinary hovens like grocers or something, who said 'no' to Xolgrohim. He put heavier spells on them. One of them sawed through his own throat with a clothes zipper to escape the pain." Tarcuna shuddered against my leg. "And Branner is from Trest. He's one of the enhanced agents from the Darkness Axe helicopters. He really wants to go home, but every time he thinks about it for more than thirty seconds, the pain gets so bad he nearly faints. He was in me when that happened, once. It was awful even to watch."
"We did Mhel a big favor when we killed all the paingods," I said.
"Jyothky?", she wrote, in Petty Draconic. She can't speak my name very well, but she can write it. "You broke the pain spell on yourself. Can you break pain spells on other people?"
"Sure, my vô works fine."
"Do that on the guards, and we'll have some allies," said Tarcuna. "Enhanced agents and coil gods, even."
So we made some detailed plans and told Ythac all about them. Never mind what they were, we didn't get past about step two.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Obvious Epiphany
|
Tarcuna went to the servant's entrance, and shouted, "Hey! Menes Hu, Khudris, Branner? Anyone want to have sex?"
A Ghemelian woman, spiky with her apotheosis and with the first letter of "Fool" branded on her forehead, looked in at the door, and spoke poor Trestean. "In the presence of the dragon you wish to do this?"
"Sure. I don't mind the rest of you guys watching, do I? She's not even a person." Tarcuna parted her upper clothes and revealed some of her udder, more to the presumed peepholes in the walls than to Menes Hu. "C'mon, Menes Hu. You'll enjoy it. Xolgrohim won't let you see your husband 'til this is all over. Even then, you look so horrible and spiky he probably won't want you. You might as well get what you can, and I guarantee I won't make you pregnant by mistake."
"No, no, it is an abomination."
"Which you enjoyed a lot last time!" Tarcuna laughed.
While they were talking, I was staring. Menes Hu wore eight spells around herself. Two were obviously illusion spells, and very big ones: probably the ones that kept Ythac's finding-spells from working. The third was probably strength, and the fourth and fifth were small ones that didn't obviously do anything. The sixth, seventh, and eighth were jagged ones wrapped around her psyche, and they looked older than the others. So I caught them between the lobes of my vô, one at a time, and squeezed. Crunch, crunch, crunch. "I think that's it," I wrote to Tarcuna.
Menes Hu gasped in elation at her new freedom. This is about where our plan started falling apart.
Tarcuna thinks very quickly. "I know, I should be very quiet about that. You don't want the others to find out."
Menes Hu stared at her, and then nodded. "It will not stay secret for long."
Tarcuna smiled. "Well, maybe you don't want any this time." — she flashed her udder at the Ghemelian — "But could you tell the boys? They could get some. Of what you got that one time."
Menes Hu dipped her head. "I will do that thing." She stepped away from the door and urged her companions to come forward and provide to Tarcuna's insatiable needs.
The next hoven at the door was tall and brawny, blocky and mighty, thick with muscle where most hovens have fat. Tarcuna smiled at him. "Captain Branner! Want another round of top-notch Dorday call girl?"
"Dunno the boss wants us going in there with the dragon and all, and sure thing you can't come out here," he said.
Tarcuna continued to be clever. "Well, I'm bored and I'm horny. How about I put on a show for you, and afterwards you put a bit of yourself through one of the peepholes and I am very nice to you that way?"
Branner chuckled. "You're sure in a good mood..." And I broke the painspells on him, too. He shouted, "Yahoo! I am free!" Tresteans are not as used to concealing their feelings as Ghemelians.
From behind him, in the weapons and servants' area, came a dozen hoven voices, wailing, wondering. "Xolgrohim gave us no orders for this circumstance!" shouted Menes Hu in Ghemelian. "As long as the prisoners make no attempt to escape, we don't need to do anything!"
"It is hard not to think that it is some attempt to escape!" called another voice.
"I'm not escaping, I'm still right here in the Pit of Despair!" I roared.
"Anyone who wants to see that the dragon is just lying on the floor not doing anything at all, come look at a peephole!" shouted Tarcuna in Trestean. "Anyone who wants to kill everyone in here including yourself — why don't you take a look too? I don't want to die for not doing anything Xolgrohim said not to do."
"Yes, yes! Come look through the peephole! The dragon and the person prisoner, they do nothing! See for yourself! Khudris, you are the other leader, you must look first!" proclaimed Menes Hu in Ghemelian. "Branner! You may save yourself if you can, but you must not risk the captives."
A hoven man, stinking of infection, his fur barely visible under spikes and many dressings, looked in at the peephole. He had seven spells on him, so I whacked him with my vô, and then he didn't have any. He looked up. "Menes Hu is correct as far as I can tell. You and you, come look. Menes Hu and I will hold the controls to the guns until you are satisfied."
And so forth until all fifteen hovens were free, and everyone had the Ulthana's Targe on them. I hoped that it would be good enough to keep off a few painspells.
Then the plans completely fell apart.
"Well, miss, I'm much obliged to you for freeing me," said Captain Branner. "But I have to wonder. You did a number on my home country, I hear. Wrecked the Peace Everywhere Array, then beat up the army, then tortured the archconsul into surrendering the country to you."
"I only did the first one of those, and that only because it killed my fiancé," I explained. "The other dragons did the rest."
"You're here, and you're standing on a big dragon-killing gun. You want something from me. I want something from you. And I aim to get it before you get to go free. If I don't get what I want, you get the biggest twistor ray bouquet of your life," he said.
"Captain Branner! Do not do this thing!" shouted Khudris. "The dragon, she will free the people, she will kill Xolgrohim!"
"Khudris, you gotta take care of your people, I gotta take care of mine," said Branner. "I hate it worse'n you do, but Xolgrohim's a Ghemelian problem, and the dragons are a Trestean problem. If I kill this one, that's some justice for what she's done to Trest."
And I was, indeed, sitting on the muzzle of a gun made to kill dragons, with Branner at the trigger. "Well, what do you want?" I said, and made sure my defensive spells were in good shape. I didn't think they'd be good enough, not that close to that many twistor cannons.
"I want your promise to set Trest free," he said. Khudris tried to cast a sleep spell at him, but the Ulthana's Targe protected him.
"It's not mine to free," I said. "I can try to talk Ythac and Llredh into letting it go." I broke Branner's the Ulthana's Targe as I spoke.
Captain Branner scowled. "I want more than that. I want you to fight them for it, I want you to push for freedom for Trest night and day, I,... oh..." Khudris had cast his spell again, and sent Branner to sleep. One of the gunners jumped for the trigger, and caught it in time.
So we gently tossed the sleeping Branner into the Pit of Despair. The gunners tied the triggers — they're dead-man triggers, set to go off if they're released for too long. I shrank to a hovenish sort of size, and we all scrambled up the stairs to the street.
At about which point I realized that hovens really, really treasure their freedom, and even each others' freedom, and are willing to spend nearly anything for it. I should probably pay attention to that in the future. It sounds very important if my friends and I are thinking of ruling Hove.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Dealing with Xolgrohim
|
On the way up, the mechanics and native gods of Ghemel told of the other things their erstwhile master had forced them to do. Three big towers on the three tallest hills of Ghemelia now held twistor cannons, not much inferior to the Peace Everywhere Array. To try to kill my parents if they showed up and didn't immediately dive into the Pit of Despair, of course.
I yelled at Ythac until he stopped fretting about the intruding dragons for long enough to locate Xolgrohim's sapphire bottle. Naturally, it was deep underground in a concrete maze, with the last of Xolgrohim's seven big twistor guns at the bottom of it so he could kill me or a parent if we were about to kill him from close at hand. "If you or your parents try to burn it out, the three twistors get to whirl you to bits before you're very far in," wrote Ythac. "And right now the twistors are pointed in a triangle: if you try to destroy one, another one will hit you. Leave your dead god alone, he's not going anywhere, and help me deal with Chevethna and all."
"No, no. It's time for my revenge," I explained.
"If you get ripped apart while you try to pry open that dragonproofed oyster of a paingod, it won't help your revenge, or me, or Tarcuna, or anyone but Xolgrohim."
"I'm not going to get ripped apart," I said. "I am far too clueless and confused."
"That doesn't make any sense," he replied. So I told him my plan — well, 6/12 Tarcuna's plan, 4/12 Khudris' plan, and 2/12 my plan — and he complained that it was hopeless and stupid but he'd let me do it anyway since he couldn't stop me.
At the head of the stairs, in the wasteland around the Pit of Despair prison, the Ghemelians tied Tarcuna to my back — she preferred to die by my side than get controlled by Xolgrohim, if things went badly — and set off on their errand. I set off on mine. This consisted of flying in crazy circles around the city, roaring, "Xolgrohim! Xolgrohim, you coward! Come out and fight me!"
And he did, somewhat, though as battles royale go, it wasn't very flashy. I don't think Xolgrohim even knew that it was a battle royale until the very end.
"Jyothky!" he shouted. In this case, he was a strong square man of obvious Trestean ancestry, presumably one of the captured soldiers, trailing the astral tentacles of Xolgrohim's possession. He stood on top of a flat tile rooftop, one tenement building in a slum, and spoke into a microphone amplified by some battered stereo equipment.
I circled over his head. "Xolgrohim! I have escaped your foolish little prison!"
"I beg your pardon, Jyothky. I had somehow gotten the misapprehension that dragons kept their word of honor."
"And so we do, feeble and incompetent paingod! And so we do!"
"So how is it that you have left the Pit of Despair?"
I flew in quick wide circles. This was important. I didn't want to stay still for long enough for any of the great weapons to shoot at me. "Your gods, your soldiers — they are no more!" For some reason, when I wanted to seem clueless and belligerent, I tried to talk like Llredh. Probably Llredh only uses it as a distraction too, come to think of it.
"My gods and soldiers were not the reason you were staying there!" I'm pretty sure that Xolgrohim wanted to argue me back into the Pit, back to my position as bait for his trap. Maybe he was just offended.
"Fool of a paingod! The reason I was staying there, she is on my back!" That was a tactical mistake on my part, if he started wondering how I got her strapped there. So I started trying to describe the battle I hadn't had, without actually lying. "Your gods — they are weak against claws and teeth and the swiftness of the tail! Your warriors — they are weak against breath and against the Lure of Dreams!"
"Your vow, it is weak — altogether!"
"My vow? I never break a vow! What I break, is your trap, your warriors, your power!"
And on and on like that. I had no real idea how long the Ghemelians would take. So the discussion wandered around from topic to topic.
"Jyothky!" boomed Xolgrohim in a voice thick with mechanical static. His stereo amplification really wasn't in very good shape. "A thousand of my subjects, Ghemelians and Tresteans, are now standing here and there around the city, holding sharp, sharp knives!"
"Bah! Are they too poor to afford guns and missiles? But know this, fool of a necromancer: if a thousand knifemen come at me, a thousand knifemen will die. If a grand come at me, a grand will die," I blustered. I didn't quite get his point, which is just as well. So he had to explain it.
"I was not going to have them attack you directly. I respect the thickness of your hide quite devoutly! Instead, if you do not go back to your cell, I am afraid that I will cause them to turn their knives on themselves."
Well, misunderstanding that took a lot of effort, but I managed it. I hooted at him, "So that they bop me with the pommels of their daggers? Xolgrohim, fool of a Xolgrohim! I despise weapons, but I know weapons! You love weapons, but you do not know weapons! The pointy end of the knife is the dangerous end, not the pommel!"
"No, they shall not use their knives on you, neither front nor back..."
"Unless you have poisoned the knives! A thousand poisoned knives might sting me. But, squishy little paingod, know this: I am expert with the spells of healing, and I am not the least among toxicologists!" Sounding more and more like Llredh; I even borrowed his hobbies. And it's not strictly a lie: I remember a little of what Llredh told me (plus healed poisoned Tarcuna), and presumably the least among toxicologists is the one who knows absolutely nothing.
"Forgive me for an imprecise speech. They will kill themselves!" Paingods are not very nice when you back them into a corner.
"And what sort of an attack upon me might that be? I am not such a glutton as to eat a thousand hovens worth of poisoned meat! Five, perhaps six, at the utmost! Seven if they are small! Eight if the poison is particularly delicious!"
"I did not expect you to eat them, and, in fact, the knives are not poisoned."
So after that we argued for a while about whether the dead hovens would be better off dead, and thus outside his service. To delay things more, I went off on a tangent at the end of the argument. "Well, I challenge you to this. Command one of your hovens to kill himself. Then I shall fly the body to my fiancé the mighty Osoth — whose powers you yourself depend upon crucially! Osoth shall interrogate him posthumously, and have him explain which condition he prefers."
"Jyothky, your understanding of death is great, I am sure, but I have actually been dead for some centuries. I say that life, even as the slave of a painlord, is preferable to death."
"The life of a mhelvul god, perhaps! These are not mhelvul gods, they are hovens! Tell me, Xolgrohim, how long were you a dead hoven?" If Headmistress Inth heard me making such a specious argument, she'd rap my knuckles with a ferule, dragon or no dragon.
"Ask your slave, if you wish. Tarcuna, is the life of a hoven sweet to you?" asked Xolgrohim. Then he roared with anger. "Jyothky! What treachery is this? Hovens are slaying my guardsmen!"
"I can't tell what's going on." But presumably my freed and hopefully protected Ghemelians were about to break into his dragonproofed crypt and smash his bottle. Time for more distractions. "Oh! What I meant to say before is, your spell on me fell off, so of course I killed all of the guards I felt like and flew out. I wanted to ask you, though — put that spell on me again, and I'd be so happy I'd do you another little favor like going back in that pit. I truly miss being able to feel, really I do."
"I am afraid it is an awkward time..."
"Well! How d'you like that!" I chirped mockingly. "I offer to make myself bait for your trap, but you're all 'oh, it's a bad time, maybe you could come back next Thursday and we'll have some tea and then see about just what sort of curses we can place on you but you might have to wait 'til Tuesday week when I think I have an opening in my schedule at 2:15 but we need to be done by 2:35 promptly.' Well, I want to feel again. Now."
"Jyothky, give me just ten minutes..." he said. Oh, dear, I hoped my Ghemelians weren't that close to getting defeated.
"Now!" I roared, and landed on the top of the tenement next to Xolgrohim's victim. He could shoot me if he wanted. "Now, instantly! If you delay even a single second more, I shall fly home and tell my parents everything about you! What chance of revenge will you have then, Xolgrohim?" If there's any better chain to tug on a vengeful ghost's spirit than that, I don't know it. And had better learn from Osoth for the next time one of his pets gets loose.
He started dancing and chanting his borrowed body, working on the spell. "I shall endeavor to hurry, both for your convenience, and for my own..." Twenty-six steps into the dance, the sevenfold psychic cable granting Xolgrohim possession of his victim frayed and splintered, scattering darts of commanding will in all directions. The Ulthana's Targe did an adequate job of stopping them from hurting me or Tarcuna, but I daresay some of his former subjects will be trying to dance the painspell dance for days.
"Ythac? Where's Xolgrohim's bottle now, and is he in it?"
Ythac must have cast seven spells, he waited so long to reply. "I think those heroes have pulled your tail out of the volcano," he wrote. "Now will you please come help me with the other dragons?"
"It's not so big of a hurry, really, is it? I want to go check."
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World In My Claws
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Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
The Liberation of Ghemel
|
Khudris and Menes Hu and Captain Branner were waiting at the adit to Xolgrohim's bunker, with three of the fifteen Ghemelians I had freed, and a paper cup full of blue shards and writhing indigo sand. The sand made me homesick at once.
"Well, that plan worked," Khudris said. "The map you gave us was accurate. Xolgrohim had a dozen warriors and one of his gods guarding him."
"And with two gods and, from the look of it, one enhanced agent, you seem to have won?"
Branner nodded. "I decided to help these guys out when I woke up. I still have a bone to pick with you though. Freeing Ghemel is all well and good, but I'm going to be freeing Trest soon. Whether you like it or not."
The Ghemelians glared at him. "Tresteans are so rude! Jyothky has played her part in winning our freedom! Berate and threaten her tomorrow, if you must, but not today!"
"Especially not today. This whole Ghemelian adventure was just a side-quest in what is going to be a truly messy and bloody day. Chances are, Branner's not going to have to liberate Trest from Ythac and Llredh, but from the dragons who are about to take it from them."
Which called for explanations all around. I told them what Ythac had told me; only Tarcuna really understood what it meant. They told me how the freed warriors weren't as good as the enslaved ones. The enslaved ones take risks and press their bodies more intensely than self-willed hovens do ( "Just like the wormridden," said Tarcuna, shuddering.) So Xolgrohim's guards were winning. Then Khudris announced that he was going to kill Xolgrohim if he could. Three of Xolgrohim's guards and his god chose to defy Xolgrohim over that. So they were struck with the most terrible pain in Xolgrohim's impressive repertoire, or at least the most terrible kind that didn't require dancing and such. So they couldn't fight for a few seconds. So Khudris and Branner and Menes Hu killed or crippled them. Noble sacrifice and statues in the public squares and such, all 'round, when the Ghemelians get to it.
Then Branner ripped a heavy steel door off its hinges, straining his enhancements to the limit. Behind it was an alcove packed with the most refractory insulation in Ghemel. Not the strongest material, since Xolgrohim was expecting to be attacked by fire from above, not by weapons from in front. The Ghemelian soldiers shot it full of bullets, and a few bullets hit Xolgrohim's bottle. Which was just spun sapphire, not very strong. And that was that.
"But we would like you to confirm that Xolgrohim is actually dead," they said.
"I don't theocept any gods in Hove but the two of you," I said. "Not anymore. And there's no magic on the scraps. For more than that, I'll have to get Osoth."
They weren't happy about the necromancer getting his claws on Xolgrohim again. I promised to keep Osoth well-behaved. Besides, Xolgrohim wasn't a very useful ghost to Osoth, now that his treasures were (a) elseworld, and (b) probably in Tultamaan's hoard. To say nothing of Xolgrohim showing everyone just how obedient an undead god he actually was.
Finally, I flew back to a very nervous Ythac and Llredh. And my mating flight was there too. Llredh had told them to be nearby to rescue me at need.
I definitely need more insults to use on Llredh. He's proud of the perversion-styled ones.
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World In My Claws
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Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Prelude to The Battle for Hove
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I have to write down all the new dragons, or I'm going to get confused.
Actually I already got confused, so I made Chevethna help me with it.
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World In My Claws
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Bard Bloom
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[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Dragon - Sex; Description, Notes
|
Chevethna - female, married to Arthane; 18', black scales, but she's wearing brilliant glowing blue spikes, and looks like more of a lesbian slut than Arilash or Tarcuna, which really disturbs me. (She said, quite indignantly, that she's nothing of the sort, she just likes to match Arthane. And she does, indeed, match Arthane in her spikes. And her tailtip is usually curled up with Arthane's. So I suppose I believe her. It's a shame that my bad company, viz. mating flight, has made me even think of such things. A friend of most of us, from Mhel.
Arthane - male, married to Chevethna; 26', blue and crimson and scarlet with glowing blue spikes all over. Also from Mhel; more Greshthanu's friend than mine though. I had met him a few times, but not that often.
Hyxy female, married to Ngassith; 14' (my size) and reddish-brown. From Hasqueth. I do not know her at all.
Ngassith - male, married to Hyxy; 21', red and green, with red-orange-yellow frills on his head and green-blue-purple spikes on his wings and tail. Somewhere between pretty and gaudy. From Hasqueth. I do not know him at all.
Mshai - female, married to Irssaan; 18', grey and brown. From Mhel, though I didn't know her well there.
Irssaan - male, married to Mshai; 23', brick-red in front, shading to gold by the tail. His wings burn with a golden inner light, by some spell. From Mhel, but I don't think I'd met him there. A friend of Nrararn maybe. I think his wing-light is related to Nrararn's lightning-braiding.
Ignissa - female, married to Gwixion; 18', dull black like me. Unlike me — and I might start imitating her — she looks very sharp without looking any less feminine. She gives herself thin gleaming white stripes, just one or two, all along her body. From Mhel, and a friend of sorts, though a bit older than me. Her forewings don't work, like Tultamaan's forelegs, so she's very slow in the air when she's in the air at all, which isn't much. She never seems very healthy at all really. Oh, and her parents gave her that very classic fire name, so of course she breathes lightning.
Gwixion - male, married to Ignissa; 23', green above, aquamarine scutes on his belly, an emerald stinger in his tail that actually works, and pointy little curved yellow horns. From Hasqueth. I do not know him.
Psilia - female, married to Boruu; 20' and tan. Big in part 'cause she's rather older than the rest of us. From Chiriact. She and Boruu left there under some sort of cloud, lived on Mhel for a few years, and now have moved to Hove.
Boruu - male, married to Psilia; 18', coppery-shiny mostly, coppery-patina green around horns and wings. From Chiriact; see Psilia.
Vuuthon - male, bachelor; 16', purple with black highlights, but usually wears girlish dull colors. From Mhel. He doesn't like other dragons very much (including me), and he's a bit vicious.
Ressal - male, bachelor; 19', gaudy red and blue stripes From Mhel. One of Arilash's lovers, and she tells the most embarrassing stories about him, too.
Kuro - male, bachelor; 18', blue and green bands with thin orange lines between them. From Mhel — from Fohhona. Older than me by some duodecades, and completely outside my social circles. Not in a good way, from what I hear.
Nlirei - male, bachelor; 18', green and purple with lots and lots of frills. From Hasqueth. No further information.
And the fifteenth of them was Tultamaan, about whom you and I both know far too much.
But that's from the end of the day, when we were being social. Let's start in Ghemel.
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World In My Claws
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Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Setting Ghemel In Order
|
Well, actually we didn't set Ghemel in order at all. I just told Tarcuna to stay there and be helpful and be safe. "There" being a restaurant named "The Blazing Lyre for Grilling Lambs" . Xolgrohim had compelled the owners to keep it open and serving food, for free, to the workers on the Pit of Despair. Nobody in the city was allowed to have or use money, actually; the whole place was organized around the plan to kill my parents. Anyway, lots of half-freed hovens were there, being generally grateful to Khudris and Meles Hu and me.
"Why can't I come with you?" Tarcuna asked.
"It's not safe," I said.
So she whomped me on the muzzle with a chair, and everyone stared at us. "Spotty, I just sat on a giant twistor cannon for the last few days, then seduced some gods for you, and then rode your back while you taunted Xolgrohim! I am used to 'not safe!'."
"Well, this time I'm going to go help fight a lot of dragons. Which means plentiful fire breath. Enough of it to get through my apotropaics and my scales. I can put apotropaics around you, but you don't have scales. So if you're on my back you'll get roasted," I explained.
"Why are you fighting these dragons, anyway?"
"They're coming here to conquer Hove." So obvious.
She glared. "Didn't you already do that or something?"
"I didn't. Llredh did, or part of it anyway. Oh, I guess I just conquered Ghemelia, didn't I? I'm not sure." The waiter came by and gave us some lunch. I broke the masterless pain-spells around him.
She pointed a skewerful of grilled lamb at me. "But you don't want to rule Hove. According to you, anyway."
I ate the lamb and the skewer. "I don't. We're just helping Llredh and Ythac."
"Hey! That was my lunch!" Tarcuna got another skewer. "So the seven of you are going to go try to kill twice as many dragons as you?"
"Oh, I'm sure we'll lose. We have to try though. It's embarrassing if we don't."
"If you get killed I am going to be so angry with you, you have no idea!" hissed Tarcuna.
"I'm not going to get killed. This is just a friendly dominance contest."
Tarcuna looked aghast. "A friendly contest to see who rules the world?"
I cocked my head. "Well, of course. Half of them are friends of ours from Mhel anyway."
"You have the worst friends ever," she noted.
"They're perfectly fine dragons. Except Tultamaan."
"My statement is proved," said Tarcuna.
And after a bit more spellbreaking, I wished the hovens well, and they wished me well right back.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Plotting
|
Ythac put the Horizonal Quill into all of us, so it wouldn't be nearly so easy to eavesdrop on us or anything. The invaders were clearly aware of us; we could magiocept their scrying spells around us, just as they could ours around them.
So we made a really stupid plan: mostly Csirnis' idea, with some help from Ythac. It's much easier to plan for dragons because we know how we'll react to things, generally.
I had to fly back to Ghemel and get Khudris and Tarcuna and all out of the Blazing Lyre for Grilling Lambs. I flew Tarcuna around here and there and the other place, and broke painspells on engineers and artillerists, and set them to work. The remote control was the hardest part. That, and deciding where to point things.
Tarcuna tried and tried to talk me out of it, but of course it's a matter of honor. And I was sure she could make it safe.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
The Ritual Challenge to the Invading Dragons
|
And at length we flew back to Khamrou Voresc, and bellowed out to the invaders in the most formal register of Grand Draconic," Hello!" . A better translation of that word under the circumstances might be," We acknowledge your presence on our territory and your lack of immediate hostilities, and we refrain, however briefly, from attacking you, for the sake of the polite negotiations which are to come!".
And they bellowed back, also formally, "Hello to you too!" . Or, in more detail, "We acknowledge your presence on debatable ground, and agree to a transient truce while terms of the upcoming events are debated!"
"This is our world!"
"Technically, no, it's not." Which is true. We haven't established a formal claim to most of it.
"We're defending it now!" we roared in approximately unison. Which counts as a formal claim of sorts.
"Then we shall be glad to contend, fang to fang-and-fang-and-a-little-extra, breath to breath-and-breath-and-a-little-extra, claw to claw-and-claw-and-a-little-extra, and take it from you by greater force!"
Arilash snorted flames. "Well, drop the little extra from the claws, since you're talking about Tultamaan. That leaves the advantage to us."
Nearly everyone laughed. Tultamaan hissed at Arilash. "You will need to come up with a better Arrangement of Battle than you currently demonstrate for your Understanding of Arithmetic!"
"Let's arrange it then! Send us your leader!"
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Arrangements for a Dragon-War
|
Chevethna darted up towards us. "Arilash, Ythac, Jyothky! I am so sorry about poor Greshthanu!"
I dived down to embrace her. "I know, it's so awful."
"I was hoping you'd marry him. I married Arthane, you knew him on Mhel, didn't you?"
I smiled at her. "I didn't know him all that well. He was more Greshthanu's friend than mine."
"They were inseparable. They probably saw each other every month. It would have been so nice, if you'd married him. We could have ruled adjacent domains and lived side by side," she said sadly.
Which did sound nice. "We still can, with whoever I marry, if we're staying on Hove. But I think we'd better figure out the terms of the dominance war first."
"Well, if you're in a hurry to fight —?" she said. "Oh! Right! You're on a mating flight. You're fighting constantly!"
I curled my tailtip. "Rather a lot, yes."
She peered at me intently with half a dozen senses. "Jyothky, you look awful. Arilash! Have you been abusing poor little Jyothky?"
Arilash pounced on Chevethna for a hug too. "Not enough. She keeps challenging me, and I turn her down half the time. I'm really not enjoying the fighting part of it. I'm trying to make up for it with the twining part."
Chevethna giggled. "That was the fun part! It's wonderful being married to Arthane, but I did enjoy the promiscuity. Oh! Jyothky? Is that any good for you?"
I shook my head sadly. "No. It's just as pleasant as having my back broken for me. I know; I checked." I have only one joke, so I need to use it on every new person.
She hugged me again, which I appreciate conceptually even if it's just as painful as sex or as delightful as backbreaking. "Oh, Jyothky! I am so sorry. I was hoping that you'd be able to get some fun out of it."
"Drakes smell nice, at least. That's worth something," I said. I don't like seeing her so sad.
"Well, what have you been up to? You look exhausted or something — the lluyew of your scales is so flat and shatterdy!"
I didn't really want her to think too much about that, because of the plan. "Oh, I had to kill an escaped undead Mhel paingod this morning. My job, I'm immune to most of his best spells. It was harder than I thought it would be though."
"Oh, dear! What did he do to you? What did you do to him?"
"It's a story for after-war feasting, I think. I've been having lots of very stupid adventures on Hove."
"Oh, yes, the war... Do you want to wait until tomorrow? Or even later? You really don't look like you've had a good day at all."
I shook my head. "No, I'll be fine. Might as well get it out of the way. I'm pretty much the weakest dragon in the war, except Tultamaan. Me being tired or rested isn't going to make much of a difference."
"I think you're more than a match for Tultamaan, or Ressal, or Ignissa. An equal to Hyxy or Mshai, I think," she said comfortingly.
"Aren't you supposed to be boasting how strong your army is and how doomed we are?" I asked.
Chevethna laughed. "You, my sweet young friend, have your head so firmly stuck in the middle of mating flight manners that you have forgotten more ordinary ones. I miss that!"
Arilash smiled. "Well, we are being a bit aggressive and challengy. Could you give us a hit extra, to even the odds a bit?"
Chevethna looked offended for a moment, then grinned. "One hit? I should say not! We outnumber you more two to one! We should grant you twice our hits!" Which would be dishonorable to accept.
"Well, how about you each withdraw after three hits — that's thrice fifteen, or forty-five for your side. And we withdraw after five — that's seven times five, thirty-five for our side," I said. Which was the foregone conclusion, and there was no reason to put off reaching it: enough of an advantage for us so that it's a respectable contest, but not so much that we could actually win. (In a fair fight, leaving aside our trick.) Picking three for the number of hits, instead of five or seven, probably sounded like we were trying to concede the matter with as little actual pain as possible. Actually it was quite devious. Arithmetic is as mighty as breath, if you use it right.
"I should think that was entirely dignified," said Chevethna. She called up to Ythac. "Hey! Are you allowed to fight a Caramelle these days?"
Ythac huffed. "If my father knew a grossth of what I have been doing, it would dwarf the pretended dishonor of the Caramelle beyond noticing. In any case, he's on Mhel, I'm on Hove, and I have better things to do than pay attention to him."
So we agreed that healing the other side counts as a hit, but healing our own side doesn't count either way. And dragons can put defensive spells on each other — so Ythac and I gave everyone on our side the Hoplonton, and Boruu did the same on their side.
A friendly little war.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
The War for the Heart of Hove
|
After we spent another quarter-hour chattering with Chevethna, the dragons from Hasqueth and Chiriact were getting a bit impatient. Hyxy, who is a quick little reddish-brown monster, spat corrosive venom at Arthane. "It's time for the war, already! You can catch up on the gossips and secrets after we rule the place!"
"I suppose you're right. Chevethna-so-sweet, could you please come back so we can start the war?" Arthane called up to his wife.
"Oh, I should at that! Coming, coming, Arthane!" she called back down.
So we laid the trap for them. Osoth, Nrararn, and I picked a spot high in the air — as if by pure chance why that spot instead of half a mile to the right or left. Nrararn wrapped it in winds and coils of lighting, giving us a bit of a fortification. Llredh, Csirnis, Arilash, and Ythac flew low, darting in close formation around the mountains. So it looked rather as if we were expecting the invaders to attack the stronger four, and then the weaker three of us would swoop down on them from above, getting some advantage of position and the sky-mage's spells at our backs.
Well, weren't we surprised when twelve of the fifteen of them split up into four trios and came flying up towards us from four different directions. We had been hoping to get more than twelve, but of course Ignissa wasn't going to be flying that high, and two others stayed near her.
So we sort of hovered there looking bewildered and lost as a dozen dragons charged up at us, and most of them bigger and stronger than us. The first triad to get there (Arthane, Ressal, and Kuro) took just a moment battering the lightning storm down with their vôs. Which was just enough time for the rest to get there.
We were so doomed, so outnumbered. They smiled and circled once, and flew carefully towards us from all directions.
I mashed a button on a jerry-rigged metal box strapped to my foreleg. This sent some very scientific signals to some equally jerry-rigged receivers on three towers in Ghemel.
And when the towers of Ghemel roared their dragon-wounding danger at us, Osoth and Nrararn and I knew what to expect. The invaders didn't. They did what we had done when the Peace Everywhere Array struck us over Ze Cheya, viz. they ignored the distant roaring danger (which didn't sound so intense as the Peace Everywhere Array) and went in for the convenient kills. Nrararn and I were out of the war almost immediately. I think Nrararn got one or two hits on them before he was out. I tried, but I didn't get any.
And then the three twistor bolts fell upon them, and upon us as well.
Tarcuna and the Ghemelian artillery specialists had done their important job well. The twistors were heavy enough to injure, to tear scales from flesh, to rip wings and frills. They weren't heavy enough to do too much more, at least not to a dragon with a nice fresh the Hoplonton.
"What was that?" Chevethna yowled.
I flipped my tail against her flank and put the Rose Rescaler into her, which didn't count as a hit since I was hors de combat. "It was my Hoven technology attack! Called twistor beams. A lighter version of the thing that killed Greshthanu."
Tultamaan hissed. "And you turned them on your Conspecifics to score a few Points in a Friendly Sort of War? Your recklessness with our lives is Distinctly Notable!"
Polychromatic Ngassith laughed. "They turned them on themselves too! That's a" Xhê tśiīaő šsyẵiąỳśś Ếsrŕyů... "sort of moment, if you ask me!"
I blushed to the periphery of my thezô. "Thank you!"
"Well, who's in what state now?" called Arthane. All of us, from both sides, flew in a tight circle, healing ourselves and each other. Irssaan had gotten the worse of it; Mshai's wingclaw had gotten knocked into his face and ripped up his eye. Nothing that couldn't be fixed quickly enough.
"So who's got how many hits left? I've quite lost track!" he roared.
Well, the three twistors weren't perfectly arranged, so Mshai, Arthane, and Chevethna had only been hit twice, and had one hit each left. Osoth, with two hits left from his initial five, barely had time to squeak before they were on him. He did puff graveyard dust into Mshai's face and take her out of the war, but Arthane and Chevethna caught him in an elegant pincer attack and removed those last two hits.
We healed Mshai and everyone, and let Arthane and Chevethna dive for the four stronger drakes. "Three of us untouched is nine hits, plus those two have one each, total is eleven. Four of you untouched is twenty. You have quite thoroughly foxed us!" said Gwixion.
"And our four best fighters, too," said Nrararn with a grin.
So we watched. Hyxy and Psilia lured Arilash and Llredh and Ythac into a race. Ignissa, who wasn't even flying, was a quite excellent lightning cannon perched on a hilltop, and badly scored Llredh's scales, and Ythac's, before Csirnis swooped down and elegantly removed her from the battle. Gallantly removed her, too, which took long enough for Arthane and Chevethna to dive and breathe and claw and bite.
In the end, Csirnis had two hits left, and Llredh had one, and Arilash and Ythac were out too.
But we won.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
The Peace for the Heart of Hove
|
Everyone was healed, and everyone was washed who liked water, and everyone was lying in the red sand by our old camp.
"Well, that was rather clever of you, and rather brave too," said Chevethna. "Are you going to chivvy us off immediately, or can we at least stay and see the world you've won for yourself?"
"It would be unconscionable if we made Tultamaan leave and let everyone else stay, wouldn't it?" asked Arilash. But of course it would be.
"Not the first, and not the second, but neither!" roared Llredh. "The great dragons of Hove — you may stay as their viceroys and vicars, and rule vast domains of your own!" Which is how it commonly goes with a victory over too many friends like this. We couldn't really compel them to do anything they didn't want to do, or they would challenge us to another war, and, since we were out of tricks, they would win it. We had a useful and pleasant degree of dominance, as long as we were useful and pleasant about it.
"It's more complicated than that," I added. "But we'd be delighted if you were to stay here."
"Speaking officially for very few of us, but informally for most of us, I imagine we will generally accept," said Chevethna. "Though I am a bit confused about the formalities. I had understood that you are a mating flight, not conquerors. Who, in particular, are the king and queen of Hove? Since you're not married yet."
Which had us all staring at each other with considerable perplexion.
"I guess Llredh and Ythac...?" I said.
"I am not a girl!" hissed Ythac.
"No, but you've got territory and nobody else does," I said.
"Jyothky's the queen," said Arilash.
So I blasted her with lightning. "How dare you vent your disrespect for me in front of these newcomers? Bad enough to refuse to treat me as a worthwhile rival in front of our fiancés, but in front of everyone?" In retrospect I admit that declaring me queen isn't the greatest possible sign of disrespect, but Arilash has been avoiding contests far too often, which is insulting, and this is avoiding a very big and important one indeed.
"I am doing no such thing!" Arilash roared at me. "Which female has hoven servents aplenty to build mighty dragon-conquering weapons for her? Which takes days and days out of her mating flight to attend to matters of rulership and subjects? That one is acting like the queen already! And, conversely, which female pays hovens very little attention save when they get in her way? Which one never makes the slightest attempt to impose her will on anyone? That one is not acting like the queen!" (Not everyone would agree to her last point.)
"I won't tolerate this!" I roared back in a fury. "I challenge you to a Krage's Glory!" Because I absolutely needed to prove to all the newcomers how feeble a fighter I am, in case they couldn't tell from the war we had just finished.
So we fought a Krage's Glory with twenty dragons watching. Arilash was in fine form. I didn't have any more twistor cannon surprises or anything.
Afterwards Arilash actually stood on top of me — she had knocked me completely over — and boomed, "By my right as victor of this fight, I declare that Jyothky is the dragon queen of Hove!"
Ignissa stared at us. Well, everyone did, but Ignissa was the first one who got unperplexed enough to talk. "Arilash won the fight, so Jyothky's queen?"
"Backwards! On Hove, she is the best style!" said Llredh with a laugh.
"Certainly the way you talk, sweetie," said Ythac.
"I'm pretty sure that the two females are competing misiere," explained Nrararn. "To lose, you know."
"I don't really see, but I suppose I don't have to see," said Chevethna. "If Jyothky is queen, who is king?"
"Ythac! Ythac is king! Any who disputes that must fight me!" roared Llredh.
Ythac grinned at his husband. "I should challenge you. Then you can climb on top of me and proclaim me king properly, the way the girls did."
Arthane said, "The customs of dragons on Hove are truly perplexing. Are we required to follow such things?"
Hyxy laughed. "Actually, since we lost the war, shouldn't you be declaring us the rulers of Hove?"
Ythac snorted sparks. "By that logic, we should be declaring the hovens the rulers of Hove. No, Arilash and Jyothky were having an angry fight, not a contest for the queenship. Jyothky hasn't quite figured out that Arilash is a would-be pacifist and egalitarian, and hates dominance contests and even rulership of all sorts. She thinks Arilash is avoiding fighting her out of unimpressedness." I glared at him a bit from under Arilash's wing.
"And Llredh? Is he a pacifist too?" asked Hyxy.
There was much laughter from everyone who knew Llredh. "No, no. I have taken Careful Precautions to avoid mentioning certain Troublesome Matters on Mhel. Some Unsavory Details of my former mating flight are best explained by those who are the Perpetrators," said Tultamaan.
"I suppose I had better explain how matters stand between Llredh and myself," said Ythac. And he did.
The newcomers were suitably disgusted.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
New Rulers of Ghemelia
|
"I shall impose a penance on you and your tribe for daring to infringe upon my sovereignty!" I told Chevethna in an imperious voice, in somewhat more private, after everyone had eaten and such. "And never mind that I seem to have gotten sovereignified under rather questionable circumstances after you weren't infringing any more." Chevethna giggled. So I thundered, "Still I shall be Merciful!"
"Mercy is always the most important and indeed most characteristic attribute of a tyrant queen!" she agreed.
"Just so! That's how you can tell they're tyrant queens and not, oh, just aggressive archbishops or pompous potentates or what have you," I said, which made her giggle more. She seemed much happier now that she was past her mating flight, not that she was ever a particularly miserable girl beforehand. "Who of your number are the most intent of Uplifters?"
"I imagine you're going to set them to work reducing hoven civilization to ashes and dooms?" she asked. I nodded emphatically. "Arthane is a monstrous great Uplifter, of course, and Boruu does nothing but egg him on. Ressal too, Kuro, Ngassith, Ignissa, Mshai, to a lesser degree. I suppose I wouldn't really try to stop Arthane, but I have to say I'm the Downcrusher in the family. A mhelvul unslayed is a mhelvul to be flayed, like I've always said, O tyrant queen!" Her eyes twinkled. Actually she's always been more Upliftey than me. Drumet Academy does that to a dragoness, I suppose. Or maybe, only dragonesses like us are sent there.
"Hovens now!" I blinked a few times. "Actually, I did just slay a mhelvul — a dead one — and I'd like a dragon or two to clean up after."
Chevethna giggled. "Oh, dear. Has Osoth been conjuring up undead hordes and letting them wander about?... No, you said it was a mhelvul. Is Osoth such a great necromancer that he can call the dead from one world to another?"
"Not that good. He'd summoned it on Mhel, and accidentally brought it here. One lich of a paingod, not an army of shambling mummies," I said seriously.
Chevethna peered at me. "That doesn't sound so good." So I told her what had happened. She called Arthane and Boruu over to listen. I told them the details, and after it was all done, she said, "That really doesn't sound so good."
"It's not very good. The city was mostly neglected for duodecades under the old regime. Then there was a war there. Then there was a civil war there, with foreign soldiers shooting at all the sides and all the sides shooting at foreign soldiers. Then a paingod who neglected all civic improvements that couldn't be used to kill dragons. Now they're free of him. But they've still got the painspells on them."
Boruu frowned, and twitched his tailtip. "I do not know paingods and the history of paingods as well as those who grew up on Mhel. What sort of painspells are these?"
Chevethna said, "I don't know exactly — Jyothky would know more, I don't know why I'm not letting her talk —"
"Court etiquette. Comme il faut to interrupt the tyrant queen," I noted.
"Hove is so much a mirror-land! Anyway, my parents talk about spending months and months breaking painspells on their new subjects, when they first conquered their part of Mhel. Most of them had never been free since they were four. The spells prickled and stung the neck and shoulders all the time, and got more intense as the subject hesitated to obey, or even thought about it. One of my parents' cities was so miserable! The spells burned hot when the subjects didn't try to obey their gods, and with the gods all dead, there wasn't any way to try to obey. That was my parents' first chore after the conquest, breaking all those spells."
"And that's someone's first chore here, too."
Boruu craned his head close to me. "How sane are these hovens anymore, do you think? Being oppressed, conquered, embattled, and mind-taken is not so good for the psyche."
"I don't know. My allies seemed reasonably sane at the time, but they were the strongest hovens there. I should probably go back now and pick up my..." I struggled for a word for Tarcuna. "...my minion. I left her there. She's probably seduced half the girls in the city by now."
Chevethna gave me an odd look. "Is that ordinary behavior for hovens?"
"No, nothing like that. Tarcuna is as broken as anydragon in the mating flight," I said.
"What's wrong with Osoth? Well, aside from he's a necromancer," Arthane asked. So I had to be more specific and detailed, and give a full accounting of everyone. "Oh, sky of clouds, Jyothky, that's really not very good."
"Well, it's not so bad if you don't think of it so much as a mating flight as a way for the king to get rid of the most embarrassing children on Mhel," I said.
"You poor tyrant queen! My mating flight was delightful," said Chevethna. "Even if I only came in second. A long vacation on the Tgeriu Coast."
"And we spent every weekend in the Loriaun, or Fohhona with travel spells. Splendorio guaranteed that he'd be last of the drakes by going to a mount-fighting club. The rest of us behaved well!" said Arthane.
"I should hope you didn't have any thought for any other dragoness!" said Chevethna, and crunched one of Arthane's spikes and healed it possessively.
They started crawling over each other, so I breathed cold on them. Not enough to harm, really, but enough to get their attention. "Will you go and cure some hovens in Ghemel?"
Chevethna stuck her head out from under Arthane's left wings. "Do we get to rule Ghemel after?"
Which is a tricky question, after this morning's epiphany. "I think we'll conquer Hove by the method of insidious insinuation, or whatever it's called. The one where we make ourselves useful and helpful and indispensable and beloved for a few duodecades."
"Oh, then we declare that we rule the world, and everyone cheers?" said Boruu, a bit caustically.
"We'll figure out the right approach when the time comes. Hove's a huge world, anyway. We don't need the whole thing just yet."
Boruu nodded. "On Yyrclarian, for one world, we do not rule as tyrants. We rule as tycoons."
Chevethna breathed a bit of fire on herself and Arthane to warm up. "So, we're selfless and benevolent dragons of healing who are coming to help out in multiply-devastated Ghemel, without the least bit thought for our own benefit?"
"Exactly!... Oh, do you remember poor Greshthanu's palace? Don't do that to Ghemel. Make sure they've all got places to live and food to eat before you start them building things for you."
Arthane folded his wings. "Do we have to sleep in a stable?"
"An airplane hanger, I would think," I said, and had to explain what it was. "Oh, and I think you get to keep some of the Ghemelian national treasures. Xolgrohim looted them to his Pit of Despair Prison."
Boruu said, "Psilia wouldn't enjoy that very much. She's not one for coddling small people. Do you need four dragons for this, or will two do?"
"Two should be plenty. One would, in a pinch," I said. And let him go.
Chevethna and Arthane peered at each other a bit, and said, "We need to discuss this." Arthane cast the Library in Scales. I'm sure that Ythac could have found some way to eavesdrop, perhaps even without them noticing, but I had to wait. I couldn't even tease Ythac. He was having some sort of drama with Llredh and Kuro. He threatened to explain it to me if I bothered him anymore.
After well more than twelve minutes, Chevethna spread her wings. "O tyrant queen, we will do your wicked bidding! We will fly to this place you call Ghemel, and work our subtle sorceries upon the defenseless populace, until they lie helpless beneath us! Nicely!"
"See that you do, my minions! Or a terrible fate awaits you! Probably involving trying again somewhere else.... Actually, if you ruin Ghemel any more, I will be a bit upset. We already ruined it enough."
"Wait, who did? You and Osoth?"
"Osoth the most, but all of us. Oh, and Trest and Uncle Holder before us."
Chevethna reared her head and grew a few more blue spikes. "But now you have competent lieutenants! Fear not for your pet city!"
I didn't quite fear not. But they can't be worse than the last three rulers.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
The Castigation of Tultamaan
|
We did our best to intimidate Tultamaan by surrounding him with eight dragons. That's the mating flight, less Osoth who was off chatting with Ngassith and Irssaan, and with Chevethna and Arthane, their tails curled up together.
"As the loyal adjunct of the Tyrant Queen, I must ask you, Tultamaan, to give a full accounting of your dishonesties, evasions, and betrayals!" thundered Chevethna. Arthane looked determined and diligent by her side.
Tultamaan muttered, "And I suppose that mere Reason will not be sufficient to show that I am being Honest and Open in all Regards." He crushed his veriception-blocks, and looked to Chevethna expectantly.
"That is a good start, but we'll think better of you if you actually say something," said Chevethna. Arthane giggled.
He tugged at his forepaws with his mouth a bit, arranging them on the sand. "As everyone here knows Perfectly Well, I found the mating flight Not To My Taste. It did not live up to either half of its name. There was altogether too little Mating going on compared to the other flights I have Enjoyed. And, while we certainly spent more than enough time in the Air, we did not actually acquire the common sense to Fly from the Deadly Dangers that Hove so generously provides."
Arilash glared at him. "Your virility and your bravery are of similar sizes, as I very well know. I have twined more dragonesses than you have, and they liked it better, too. Why did you come back?"
"And why did you make an arrangement with Xolgrohim against me and my parents?" I added.
"That should Not be a Particularly Tricky Matter, Jyothky. I see no reason why one should not Defraud the wraiths of dead small people, even if they do happen to be gods. Making a wicked arrangement is no Great Matter of Grand Importance. Keeping it would be unconscionable of course. Xolgrohim's message remains undelivered." Tultamaan kept to the truth in this. "Instead, your parents know the Actual Nature of your situation." That was a lie.
Half of us hissed at the lie in the last sentence. I roared, "Tultamaan! What did you tell them!"
Tultamaan flicked his tail as if brushing away buzzing insects. "I took the Insufferable and Intolerable Liberty of presenting your situation in a More Favorable Light than it actually is. I did not mention the Heinous Peculiarity of Ythac and Llred, for one thing. And I Intimated that your own Matters of Personal Affection were generally successful and pleasing, rather than being Barely Tolerable to either yourself or the occasional Innocent Drake whom you manage to lure into your Claspers." Which was manifestly true, though I would phrase it rather differently and still have it be true. "So you see, I was being a Helpful and Considerate drake to you, and in no regard an Effective Co-Conspirator of Xolgrohim. Despite your Exceedingly Limited Degree of being either Helpful or Considerate towards me. You have no Cause for Complaint in this regard." All true, or close enough.
I didn't have much to say to that, except to mumble, "I suppose not."
"And how much profit did you get from cheating Xolgrohim?" asked Ythac.
"I am afraid Xolgrohim got the best of the deal," said Tultamaan.
Arthane chuffed, "Did Xolgrohim get anything at all?"
Tultamaan smirked. "It's fortunate that you have Clever Advisors, Arthane, for you surely Need 'em. Xolgrohim got rather less than nothing. His actual request was not granted, and I sent him his signal at a time when it was of No Use, or, rather, Less Than No Use, to him."
"Then how'd he get the better part of the deal?" asked Arthane.
"His payment to me was in the form of the location of certain Caches of assorted Valuables. The first three were not there at all any longer. The fourth remained where he Said, but it was no longer Valuable. When I retrieved the fifth, I discovered a rather raging redoubtable Rankotherium at my rear. He is a territorial beast, to be sure."
"My father ripped your wings off for that, I'm sure," said Ythac.
"That he did not. He reserves such Pleasantries for you. He brought the matter to the attention of the king. This was one Factor in the king's Suggestion that I might do best leading an expedition of Colonization to Hove on his behalf."
Nrararn blinked at Chevethna. "Tultamaan is your leader?"
Chevethna laughed. "He's our twistiest lizard! Don't trust a word he says, not even with veriception. He did lead us through the Cyclonette. And he did talk us into coming to Hove. He's not in charge of the expedition though; I am."
Tultamaan hissed a cloud of frosty fog. "I never claimed to be in charge of the expedition."
Arilash thumped her tail on the ground. "Why did you come back here?"
"It is a world in which a bachelor dragon might achieve power and status. Mhel is less such a place that it might have once seemed."
Arilash scowled. "Hove is no less dangerous than it was."
"I brought Fourteen Skillful Dragons with me, in addition to the Two or Three of them already present," said Tultamaan, nodding to Csirnis and Ythac and Llredh. "I hoped that would suffice. If Hove proved too troublesome, I can take advantage of Quel Quen's directions to Orro, I believe."
Arilash roared, "Are you simply trying to twist my tail? To ruin my mating flight, as you think I ruined yours?"
"Of course not," said Tultamaan, truthfully.
Chevethna grinned. "You aren't much of a truthforcer, are you, Arilash? Ask like this: Tultamaan, to what degree are you trying to ruin Arilash's mating flight?"
Tultamaan scowled. "It is not my most important reason, which was obeying the command of my uncle, or, if you prefer, escaping from his annoyance and that of Rankotherium and such. It is not my second-most-important reason, which was my own profit and aggrandizement. I suppose it might be some lesser reason."
Arilash spluttered bright sparks. "Lout! Idiot! Performer of futile tasks! I am perfectly capable of ruining it all on my own!"
Chevethna mewed at Arilash. "Don't do that! It's one of the happiest times of your life!" She nuzzled her husband to prove it.
The rest of us glared at them. We're not ruining things on purpose, after all. Except for Tultamaan, I suppose.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Nrararn Idyll (Day 345)
|
I don't actually hate my fiancés, or even my rival. Once in a while I manage to be pleasant to one or another of them.
Nrararn was sitting on a cloud, having a fight with a sylph. Not a breath-and-claws kind of fight, though, just an emotional sort of fight. Nrararn had promised the sylph one hyargique-qua if the sylph would warn him about attacks through the air for so many days, but the sylph had failed him twice in a Caramelle with Csirnis, so Nrararn was adding half again as many days before the sylph would get paid. The sylph, for its part, wanted to make a wind garden for its birthday celebration, which would come before that time, so it wanted the hyargique-qua sooner.
I circled around — Nrararn is the only one I know who can actually sit on a cloud — and watched the argument. Nrararn, being a nice sort of monster, agreed to pay the sylph today, but put a binding-spell on it constraining it to extended obedience. Nrararn built the hyargique-qua with a heavy crash of his thezô, and had to wait for a full heartbeat to have the strength for the binding.
When the sylph had fled, presumably to build its wind-garden, I asked him, "Didn't that take much longer than just paying the sylph to start with?"
"Yes, and took twice as much magic too. It's important to keep one's prices fixed and one's standards high, though, or one may find oneself having that sort of negotiation in the middle of a battle or something. Here, have a cloud!" He did something sky-magey to the cloud, and I landed on it and didn't fall though.
"Good trick, that," I said. "An excellent lurking-spot, if you ever feel like lurking."
"A bit less expected than, oh, behind a melted ridge, that day you were spying on us," he said with a fangy grin.
"You utterly deserved every bit of spying I did," I said. "You personally. You were trying to get my fiancés to say awful things about me."
"Back in the days when we somehow had persuaded ourselves we were having a mating flight," he said.
"We still are! It's better for you this way, with only three drakes, isn't it?"
He considered. "Mathematically better. There's a lot to worry about now." I peered at him with my ears spread, so he went on, "For one thing: if you pick me, say, what sort of a territory will we get? Back on Mhel, I don't think my parents are expecting to give me any; they don't realistically expect to need to. I'm sure they would, mind, but they'll be surprised and have to do it in a hurry. And it won't be very much of one."
"Well, maybe my parents will. It's a bit nonstandard, but they might. Again, not such a big territory. But that's maybe just as well: I don't think you and I are really strong enough to defend a big territory."
He nodded. "Exactly. That's my second worry. You and I couldn't really keep a Llredh-type from raiding our small people, say. We'd need allies. Osoth would be an ally, if things fall out that way." He scratched at the cloud with a forepaw. "But that depends on you, well, continuing to be nice to him after the mating flight. And me pretending not to notice."
He looked so serious that I didn't even try to bite him. "It'll look just as bad for you, Nrararn. Everyone will think you're Osoth's lover also." Which wouldn't have occurred to me before Day 63. This has been a very educational trip.
"Likely so." Nrararn twisted some cloud-stuff in his talons. "So, if you marry me, or if you marry Osoth, would you be willing to stay on Hove? It's big enough so there shouldn't be any troublesome neighbors for a while."
"Not going home would be a bit of a sorrow," I said. "Though living too close to my parents would be, too."
"If Arilash stays on Hove too, and I think she will, you can always get home to visit now and then," he said. "Or whichever of the newcomers is their travel expert."
"Or learn the Cyclonette myself, if I don't mind spending another year or two stretching on travel spells instead of doing anything interesting," I said. Nrararn's claws were getting all tangled in the cloud, so I asked him, "What are you being so nervous about?"
"Thinking about the long term, like this. And thinking about the short term, even: this afternoon, say."
Drakes always come back to that one point. Dragonesses too, when we're not broken. "Oh! I'll bet you brought some oil!"
He stopped clawing the cloud. "I usually carry some, these days."
"Optimist!" I hooted at him, and his mane drooped. "Justified optimist!" I added, and he fluffed up again. "But kiss me first. With lightning."
So we breathed lightning into each other's whefôs for a while. It's trickier than with fire, since lightning is faster and sharper. And of course Nrararn doesn't have Csirnis' polished elegance about kissing, or anything else. Neither do I. So it was a lot more like two real people breathing lightning into each others' mouths, and a lot less like a fairytale.
So, Nrararn was holding way more lightning than he usually can, about five breaths' worth, and our lower bodies were all oiled and busy too.. He slipped a bit, distracted by an orgasm I think, and blasted a huge hole from the inside of my cheek. He looked so apologetic, all huge eyes and spread ears, and trying to pretend that his hindquarters weren't being quite happy with mine. So I stuck my tongue through the hole and waved the tips at him, and got him to giggle before I healed it closed. Another unsuspected advantage of not being able to feel!
Afterwards, we lay on the cloud together, tails tangled up together, and watched zeppelins drift around half a world away. The actual act of mating still doesn't provide a bit of fun, but a good drake can still make it worth my time.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Etiquette of Arilash (Day 394)
|
I was asleep in one of our large temporary tents in Damma when Arilash's roaring woke me. We have four more solid buildings built by now, though they are a bit rickety and haphazard in spots. They are covered with big enthusiastic paintings of imaginary gods, at least. Usually I sleep in one of them, but Chevethna and Arthane were visiting and I had given them my usual bed.
Arilash was treating them quite rudely, though. "Get out of here! You're not supposed to be around! This is the mating flight's land, and the mating flight has important things to discuss!" Which was news to me.
Chevethna hissed at Arilash. "Well, the queen herself invited us, if you're going to be pissy about etiquette. Take it up with her."
"Where did Jyothky get off to, anyway?" roared Arilash. "If she's gone back to her pervert of a not-quite-boyfriend and his not-quite-husband today of all days, I am going to rip her wings off!"
I waddled out of my tent. "He's not my boyfriend. Chevethna and Arthane are here on an utterly ordinary and dignified visit. They were reassuring me about getting married, if you must know."
Arilash glared at everyone at once, which is pretty impressive since she has only one Head. "They need to leave. Now. I may be coming in last in the mating flight, but I will be more polite about it than Roroku at least."
Chevethna yawned. "Well, we'll leave. Though I'm a bit mystified by what you mean by 'polite', exactly."
"The important word there is 'more', not 'polite'," hissed Arilash, and crouched spitting sparks in the middle of the field until my friends were gone, and my fiancés had shown up.
"Each of you deserves to hear this first, so I'm afraid you all get it at once," she said. "Anyway. I have enjoyed myself — you might prefer to say 'defiled myself' — with Nlirei, Psilia, and Boruu. What are you going to do about that?"
Four furious dragons glared at her.
"She certainly doesn't waste any time, does she?" said Nrararn in a light tone. "I was sure she was going to wait 'til at least a month after the wedding."
"Our dear sweet Arilash has all the patience of a three-day-old infant. She has saved her claim to maturity for another topic altogether," said Osoth.
Csirnis belched sparks at both of them. "This is no time for banter. This is a serious breach of honor. We must consider some form of atonement, so that the shame of the matter is contained."
Arilash laughed harshly. "You thought I was going to apologize and stop? Half right. Jyothky, why are you biting your tail? You can't even feel it."
Well, if none of her fiancés were going to attack her, I wasn't going to breathe the first bolt. "I am shedding tears of blood for the sanctity of our mating flight."
"From your tail?"
"Why are you trying to goad me into attacking you?" I asked her. "I think the drakes get to go first. After that, let's fight a Caramelle. With just healing spells; you'll need that many." I waved my bloody tailtip. "I'm preparing for that, you see." (Well, I thought it was clever at the time.)
Csirnis was lashing his tail in a fury. "Arilash! We have made every endeavour to behave with honor and punctilio in what have become increasingly complex and entangled circumstances! We have accommodated your needs, your demands, your whims, your pets! We have accepted vast measures of ill fortune: one dragoness lost, one drake dead, one departed and betraying, two others sunk into perversion! We have fought side by side against a world of small people and a horde of dragons, and we have triumphed! And now, what? Will you shit upon your own saga?"
Arilash snarled back, "If I were a drake, I would simply be gone. I would have left before Tultamaan, and with less compelling a reason."
Csirnis arched his head. "You are not, in fact, a drake. You are, in fact, a dragoness. Ythac and Llredh have perhaps paid less attention than they ought to basic draconic biology and sociology. You have no such excuse. Dragonesses are so far outnumbered by drakes that you have an obligation to marry."
"Just like your obligation to assist your parents as crown prince of Chiriact 'til you inherit, or, more likely, they tire of your sanctimonious hypocricy and have you quietly disposed of into some convenient oubliette?"
Csirnis winced, but shook his head. "Replacement princes are easy to come by. Replacement dragonesses are rather less so."
"I'm sure you can marry Jyothky and own a nice manageable territory," she said.
"The mating flight is hardly over. Though, at this rate, there won't be anything left of it by next year," said Nrararn. "Osoth, who do you think will be next to go? Csirnis or Jyothky?"
Csirnis snarled. "That is beside the point, Arilash! Married or bachelor, I wish to compete and live with honor!"
Arilash dipped her head. "Then you're better off not even thinking about marrying me, Csirnis."
Osoth puffed graveyard dust. "By which I take it you plan to content yourself with Nrararn and myself, and our arrangement to tolerate a most limited and careful degree of adultery? You illustrate this plan most acutely with your fornications with, if I am not mistaken, one bachelor drake, one married drake, and one married dragoness. At least the latter two are married to each other. In this way you illustrate your careful and dedicated concern for the noble institution of marriage."
Nrararn breathed a heavy lightning bolt into his paws, and started braiding it into his mane. "You and I must fight once more, Osoth, the longest and bitterest fight in Rhedosaur's book. The loser — he must marry Arilash."
Csirnis had caught his temper by the tail and was gnawing on it, but a dragon's temper is notably hard to defeat. "Osoth! Nrararn! This is no time for frivolous insults! A single course is available to us! That is, we must cooperate to guide Arilash back to decent and proper behavior!"
"There's no 'back' there. I don't think she's ever been decent and proper," I said.
"Not really, no," said Arilash. "Why d'you think I never wanted to fight you? I knew I was coming in last because of this. So why ache?"
"...I thought I was going to be last," I said.
"Girls, girls! There is no need to quarrel!" said Osoth. "You can both be last!" Which is not a bit fair, since Arilash had betrayed him horribly today and I'd just been my usual mediocre self.
(Actually, maybe it is fair.)
Nrararn finished braiding his lightning. "So, my dear fiancée — my presumably-dear possibly-fiancée — what do you want to do now? What do you want to do ever, for that matter?"
"I was going to marry Llredh, you know. We would have shared drakes and dragonesses and small people and anyone else that caught our eager eyes. He would tend the territory, since he cares about that, and I do not. But I have finally admitted to myself that he is really, truly married to Ythac, and I am never going to be anything more than a minor amusement to him anymore. None of the rest of you would be at all suitable as husbands for me. Claw all the cyoziworms, anyway." Arilash bit her left forewing, drawing blood.
Osoth nodded gravely. "The past future subjunctive is an admirable tense, of especial interest to necromancers. The ragged, simpering ghosts of the dead often speak of what they would have liked to accomplish. And what a treat, to hear that most delicious of tenses in the mouth of a ragged, simpering ghost of a dragoness!"
"Which is to say, stop avoiding the question, Arilash," explained Nrararn.
"I am going to fly off. I will go where I will. I will couple with whomever I will — or triple or quadruple or more. I will scoop great fishes from the sea to eat, or steal cattle, or hunt deer, as the fancy takes me, and I will eat it raw or grilled with my own breath. I will sleep in a cave. I will raid small people now and then for a bit of treasure, or accept tribute for the favor of not raiding. I will live as a dragon ought to live, as our ancestors did in the distant past," She swung her head around, full circle. "Will any of you join me? Or are you all too deeply entangled in the ways of small people?"
"I, for my part, approve of small people," said Csirnis. "In many cases, their ways are good ways, and where they are not, we do not follow them."
"And your social history is specious. Dragons have always married, one drake to one dragoness, in even the oldest stories that I know. So your main argument is not firmly between your teeth," said Osoth. "The rest of it is accurate enough. Though of course all that predates our acquisition of astral magic and consequent exodus from Sśròu. Which, while it does not wholly confute your argument, does weaken it considerably. We are not our distant ancestors. We are smaller of body and greater of intellect and spirit than they were. And many of us prefer to behave accordingly."
"I am not trying to live like some historical figure or other. I am trying to live the way that suits me. Which includes a great deal of freedom," said Arilash.
"So you have not the slightest intention of marrying any of us?" asked Nrararn.
"I have not the slightest intention of marrying anyone who isn't going to marry me. If you want to marry a dragoness who behaves like Uruunma, faithful to Cterion and up to her shoulders in small people affairs and living in one place for grand upon grand of years — that is not me." She swung her head around again. "And by this time I know you all fairly well. I have loved you all — even Jyothky, though I never managed to get her the way I wanted. I hope to visit you again, to laugh and hunt and make love with you for a time, because you are dear to me and I am not doing this to avoid the dragons who are dear to me, not any of them. But I don't think any of you would be happy as my husband, nor I as your wife. If we married, we would be Dessvaria and Rankotherium: always fighting, always miserable. Am I not right?"
"You have a particularly foetid way of showing how dear we are to you," said Osoth. "Give me the honest stench of the grave instead. Miserable and full of woe it is, yes, but at least it does not betray."
Csirnis flicked his tail. "I will have an honorable marriage, or no marriage at all."
Nrararn laughed. "Still trying to score fiancé points with Jyothky at this late date, Csirnis? Osoth and I made a treaty for as dishonorable a marriage as we could tolerate. If that does not suffice, then farewell, Arilash."
Good manners yelled in my ear to get up and take care of the matter. "Given that you broke the most basic custom of faithfulness on your mating flight and you won't apologize and you won't atone and none of the drakes will have you, it falls to the other dragonesses to drive you out of the mating flight."
"Go ahead," she said dully. She waved her vô and crushed her the Small Wall.
I didn't breathe very hard. She didn't fight back at all. I did chase her to the edge of Patthakadu, both of us flying without any travel spells at all. I caught up with her there, and healed her burns as if we had been fighting a Caramelle and roared as if it were a victory. She smiled miserably, and flew off to her other lovers, and her life outside of draconic society.
I flew back to the sorry shard of a mating flight that was left.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Aftermath: Marriage
|
"Did something interesting just happen?" Chevethna asked. She and Arthane had flown some three miles off, and, if the flagrant scents and bits of grass and brush caught in their spikes were any indication, had found an agreeable way to pass the time.
"Arilash quit the mating flight," I mumbled.
"Oh, no!" She pounced on me to hug me. Which is not a very comforting thing for me in general, and I had to heal her belly a bit from where I lost track of what my left hind leg was doing. "What happened?"
"Arilash realized she wasn't the sort of beast to get married," I said, and explained everything.
"Your mating flight is having all the worst luck!" Arthane proclaimed. He had breathed his spikes clean by now, and looked quite striking and dignified. "How many dragons have quit so far?"
"Roroku, Tultamaan, and now Arilash," I said.
"I thought it was more...?"
"Ythac and Llredh got married early. I don't think that counts as quitting. It certainly felt different: the right general idea, even if the details were a faint hint of hideously incorrect. And Greshthanu got killed. That's not quitting either," I said.
"So you're down to three?" said Arthane.
"Four; that golden boy from Chiriact replaced Roroku," said Chevethna. "Nobody actually left our flight. Splendorio as much as resigned halfway through, after it was clear he was going to be last. He didn't exactly leave though. He just didn't stay near the flight very much."
"Splendorio would have been right at home in mine," I said. "Or maybe not. He doesn't sound melodramatic enough." I drummed my talons on Chevethna's flank. "We are now down to less than half a mating flight, a little more than a year in. Should we be doing something differently?"
Arthane looked quite innocent, which does not come easily to a vast blue and crimson monster. "Aside from not resigning and not getting killed?"
"Well, the four who are left. Should we go back to Mhel and petition the king for more dragons, do you think?"
Chevethna polished a non-blemish on Arthane's flank. "It sounds somewhere between humiliating and offensive. As if to say, 'Dear king: the flight that you so carefully arranged for me proved to be the worst-arranged mating flight in all draconic history, in a way that anyone surely would have realized from twelve minutes' contemplation of the personalities involved.' No insult intended to you, Jyothky, but nobody really thought you'd be the erotic centerpiece of a mating flight."
"That would be Arilash. I was more the one who'd sometimes sneak off and destroy a bunch of heavy weapon emplacements or something. For reasons that have nothing to do with getting married."
Chevethna laughed little blue and crimson sparks that matched her husband remarkably well. I'm sure she did it on purpose. "And by what cosmic law are those incompatible? You surely can bring a drake along when you go! A bit of twining between barrages is the height of good behavior and good fun!"
"I did," I mumbled.
Arthane laughed, his mouth glowing an eye-aching blue. "Yes — Ythac! Not the drake of your dreams, if what Tultamaan said is true!"
Chevethna butted her head against mine. "Or is he? You were always very close to him."
"The original plan was, I suppose, that I'd marry Ythac, Arilash would marry Llredh, and Roroku would marry Greshthanu. I think the king's concept matched me to Tultamaan, figuring that he's smart and I need some brains in the family."
"I, too, am fortunate to have a mate with some brains!" roared Arthane, and breathed a spotlight on Chevethna's head. She cuffed him, and I sulked while they mock-fought lovingly. When Arthane ripped up a tree to tickle Chevethna, I did breathe cold on it to wither its leaves and drag them back to the conversation.
"Sorry, sorry," said Chevethna. "It's actually wonderful to be married, even if you do have the misfortune to have chosen a huge lump of muscle and kindness without a bit of wits or courage like I did."
"I have courage a-plenty! Consider this: Did I make the least attempt to escape your clutches? Who but the bravest could meet you with anything approaching equanimity?"
"Bravery I will grant you, my love, but you provide prima facie evidence about the witlessness," said Chevethna. Then she glanced at me. "Oh, dear. We're making Jyothky miserable."
"Helping Arilash do that, is all," I mumbled. "Is it actually worth getting married?"
"Yes. Well, I've been delighted with it. Never happier. Even having my career aspirations thwarted by the surprising machinations of a tyrant queen hasn't disappointed me a bit," said Chevethna.
"Well, you'll probably oust me sooner or later," I said.
"No hurry! I'm happy to wait until Hove is fully conquered before fussing about whether I rule all of it or just two-thirds as your chief viceroy. I do believe you're trying to change the topic, though, and in this you will fail. I roar the praises of marriage! There is no better alliance, there is no better friendship! There is also no better lover, but I guess that doesn't matter much for you."
I drooped my head. "Maybe a little. Once in a while it's fun."
Chevethna reared her head to me. "Well, consider this. You have your choice of the remaining drakes."
"I don't know. I suspect I'm going to come in last among dragonesses."
She patted my face with fire breath. "I don't know that it's even possible with just one dragoness..."
"My mating flight has vastly expanded the frontier of what is possible. And I don't mean that to sound the least bit encouraging."
Chevethna ignored me. "...but, first of one or last of one, you still get your choice of the remaining males. Nrararn and Osoth are adequate, I suppose. Csirnis seems splendid, if I'm any judge of drakes at all."
Arthane smirked. "I know what you did when you had your choice! Jyothky, don't trust her a bit. She picked me."
"Shall I rush back and marry Splendorio straightaway?" she asked, with her own smirk. "Anyhow. What do you think of Csirnis?"
"He's very good at everything a drake should be good at. He was pretty much the best fighter in the mating flight, and got all the notable victories. Like the time he gave Greshthanu the advantage of position, and won a Dominance five touches to zero. He's quick and graceful. He's charming; he and Osoth were the only ones who made hoven friends..."
"I do believe there's a hoven woman who follows you around all the time, and whom you even rescue on occasion."
"Yes, that's Tarcuna, but the rest of them hate me. Csirnis made great friends of everyhoven in Ze Cheya. He's elegant. Whenever he does anything it looks beautiful, even if he's never done it before. He's honorable. I can't imagine anyone ever having anything bad to say about him. Except for friends of course; he'll have to live down being on a mating flight with Ythac and Llredh and Arilash. If he's got any hidden darknesses, they are well-hidden."
"Dragons with light breath generally don't have hidden darknesses," said Arthane. "They would make us itchy." He caught Chevethna's eye, and scratched his neck on her spikes intensely. I almost breathed cold on them.
"Well, then! You must marry Csirnis! You will have the second-best husband on Hove, from the sound of it, and just half a scale's thickness behind Arthane!" chirped Chevethna. "That should compensate for all of Arilash's bad behavior, and everyone else's too."
It's impossible to be too unhappy around Chevethna, so I let her cheer me up some.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Aftermath: Drakes
|
The drakes weren't so cheerful, when I got back. They were sitting in a triangle around a burning cinnamon tree, chatting or meditating quietly. I didn't want to send them out to Chevethna. I'm not sure she could cheer three of them up at once in any case. Not in the same way certainly. Only one of them gets to marry now, and him to someone far, far less impressive and desirable than Csirnis.
"Did she put up much of a fight?" asked Nrararn.
"Not a bit. I healed her, as if we were fighting a Caramelle," I said.
"I suppose the dignity of the occasion is somewhat compromised in any case," said Csirnis. "Arilash did not prove to care that much for honor, in the end."
I prowled around the fire, and embraced my drakes. "I'm sorry. I'll try to do what I can to take her place."
Osoth snarled, "Your place and hers are utterly different. Our needs for reprehensible behavior and shame by association are quite satisfied. You need not exert yourself in the slightest in that regard."
I shrank back. "I mean, about being a decent dragoness for you."
"I am unaware that Arilash ever was decent," Osoth snapped.
"I believe she is offering to copulate more," said Csirnis. "With us, I mean."
"Well, yes. Sorry if I'm still a bit of a prude."
"I thank you for your offer, Jyothky. I cannot fault prudery today, having seen the opposite extreme rise to icarean heights," said Osoth.
"He said 'yes, thanks'," noted Nrararn. "I say 'yes, thanks' too. Because we're trying to be decent drakes, that is, not out of any particular urgent need." Which is how they smelled to my tongue too.
"It's not urgent in the sense of overwhelming lust. You'll never get that from me, I don't think," I said. They all nodded. "It's urgent in the sense of, we ought to reaffirm that we're a mating flight and not a total disaster."
"Not a total disaster, no. 5/9 of a disaster."
"Besides, I do want my eggs to be part-fertilized. That will be important to my husband and me in some years," I pointed out. Which was calculated to say that I was going to marry one of them in the ordinary way, and hatch dragonets in the ordinary way, and never mind all the crazy things like flying off or getting killed that half the flight had done.
So we got out some ghee, and some male members, and behaved as we ought. The drakes were still rather grumpy, but I did have the sense that they'd rather mate with me than go off and be violent to Arilash. Just barely.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Camp Magistrate Beanfeld (Day 586)
|
Alarmingly, today did not start with Tarcuna getting clipped on my back and flown at a break-ribs speed to somewhere or other in Trest. Today, we were quite organized about it: we'd been planning this trip for weeks. Today, we had some extra hovens coming with us, Prof. Wulpmegarn and Dr. Grauzeng and title-less unimportant Bthera: they'd been planning the trip for weeks too.
Today, we took a zeppelin. An elegantly appointed military officer zeppelin, like the one I rode to Trest a long time ago. It was pleasant to be able to walk around in it, instead of hiding mousedly under a couch. I didn't take hoven form — I haven't done that in months, and rather miss it — but hoven-sized dragon form works just as well unless I'm trying to open a door with a shiny polished brass doorknob with a forepaw. Or trying to sit, rather than crouch, on a stuffed and polished leather chair. Or trying to fill a plate from the officer's buffet. We didn't have any officers on this flight, but I insisted on the buffet anyway. The very dignified and important Prof. Wulpmegarn served me. Bthera served Tarcuna.
"Glad to be free?" asked Tarcuna, when I was distracting the more dignified hovens into explaining the bovine digestive system to me on the other size of the gondola. (It's complicated. Arilash and I would never have figured it out. It's also boring and somewhat unpleasant to think about, so I will not record it here.)
"You have no idea," said Bthera. Tarcuna snorted. Bthera continued, "Well, you know, but nobody else seems to. Dr. Grauzeng certainly doesn't."
Tarcuna put a hand on her friend's shoulder. "You've been following her, have you?"
"I've just been trying, but she doesn't want me to. We had a huge fight about it in the hospital, with all the doctors giggling about it under their masks I'm sure," Bthera snuffled.
"Did you get anything at all?"
"I'm allowed to clean her house, and help out in the kitchen. Their cook is old; I hope she'll retire in a few years and I'll be the new cook. Dr. Grauzeng and Himself don't want me taking care of their children. They don't want a reformed whore as a nursemaid," said Bthera.
Tarcuna nodded. "That's something, I suppose."
"I wish I could do more though. I've never loved anyone like this before," said Bthera.
"I know that feeling. Jyothky won't let me do any more. Never did, even when I was her hired friend. Actually all I do is get her into more and more trouble; she'd be better off without me. Could you get me another couple of quail eggs? I'm sorry, I can't peel them one-handed."
Bthera helped with the eggs. "Dr. Grauzeng doesn't want that either. I envy Llredh; he got to marry the one who freed him."
Tarcuna took a dainty bite of an egg that was already too small to make a respectable mouthful, even for a hoven mouth. "What we need is a vast supply of unmarried expert surgeons who are looking for devoted lovers. Also, a vast supply of dragons who don't mind spending all their time healing hovens. Then we could get rid of the cyoziworms once and for all."
Bthera shrugged. "I'm glad to be free. I don't care about the rest of the worms so much."
"I've been with dragons too much," said Tarcuna. "Their ways are starting to rub off on me."
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Indiscretions
|
Much construction had been inflicted upon the Magistrate Beanfeld Array Site since Ythac and I had ruined it. Six squat morose apartment buildings huddled on the twistor-scarred plain. They were trebly walled, surrounded by tall panels of pressed stone, coils of razor wire, and a concrete moat tiled with scales. The weighing kind of scales, that is. Anyone walking across the bottom of the moat would be noticed by machines that would sound warning klaxons. A dozen gangly metal towers with cabins for soldiers and guns on top, and a small barracks-house, provided a menacing overtone to break the otherwise purely dismal atmosphere.
Today, of course, they tried to be festive. Sloppy plastic banners reading "All Hail Our Draconic Overloads" and "Welcome Wormridden Victims" fluttered from two of the guard towers. A small sort of podium had been set up at one end of a half-filled parking lot, with the emblems and flag of Trest behind it. Several dozen hovens, Csirnis, and Kuro were already there. I duly embraced my golden prince fiancé, and exchanged casually friendly roars with Kuro.
Ythac, who flew in not long after we arrived, peered tenasensitively at the arrangements. "I think I will dispense with the podium. I'd crush it if I tried to stand on it."
I tangled necks and wings with him in greeting. "Oh, maybe they did mean 'overloads', then. I thought they just couldn't spell on those banners."
Ythac read the banner, snorted, and destroyed it with a quick snort. "I swear, hovens are such idiots half the time. I cannot understand how they put together a sophisticated and advanced civilization, the way they're working for me. I cannot imagine how they could put together anything bigger or more impressive than a mediocre dumpling factory, and even that wouldn't work half the time. Because they'd use flowers instead of flour to make them, or something."
I shrugged my wings. "Damma wasn't nearly that bad, nor Ze Cheya. And Tarcuna's as sharp as a claw."
Ythac shrugged his wings too. "Well, mine aren't very good. I have to do half of everything myself. Well, today's event is important, to Llredh especially, and we're going to do it right. Where is Llredh, anyway?"
"You're the master of finding-spells, and of Llredh's heart," I reminded him.
Ythac threw his head back and bellowed "Llredh!"
Llredh bellowed back, though not so loudly. He had shrunken to hoven-size, and was wrapped around Tarcuna, and behind a locked bus full of miserable hovens from the rest of us.
Tarcuna thumped Llredh between the horns with her fist. "Stop yelling. You're hurting my ears."
Ythac hissed angrily at the two of them, in Grand Draconic. "Llredh! This is your event! This is not a suitable time for adultery, and you must not be so public about it!"
Llredh hissed back at Ythac. "Adultery, she takes place in the forests and wild caves only! Tarcuna's clothing, she is neither mussed nor disturbed! Tarcuna's vulva, she is neither entered nor stretched! Your tongue, she can smell the truth!"
Ythac didn't bother checking. (I did. Llredh was on the edge of concupiscence, as he often is when Ythac is nearby. Tarcuna was more emotionally intense than usual, but not in ways that suggested immanent adultery.) "Llredh, disentangle yourself from her at once." He did. "Are you going to give the opening speech, or am I?"
"The opening speech, you give her. The fine words, they are in your mouth. The roaring, the snarling, the half-formed threats of vengance, the broken grammar — these things pour forth from my mouth when I open it!"
Ythac glared at Llredh. "Very well. You will stand by my side though. Keep off of Kuro and Tarcuna." He glanced at me. "Arilash, at least, couldn't make it." Llredh did as he was told, looking as contrite as he could manage, which is never very much.
Tarcuna wrapped herself around my foreleg. "What was that about?"
"I could ask you the same," I said, but I summarized the conversation in Trestean for her.
"So Kuro's on the list too," said Tarcuna. "That's interesting."
"What list is this?"
"Llredh's permitted extramarital lovers," said Tarcuna, smelling rather afraid.
"There were three names on the list..." I started.
"And one of them is mine," she finished for me. "Only twice. The first time was when you and Ythac were beating up the Peace Everywhere Array, and most of the other dragons were away, and Llredh and I needed more than you can possibly imagine to be distracted. The other was in Perstra, a month or so ago. You'd gone out flying with Ythac."
I glared at her.
She glared back at me. "You said you didn't care who I diddled. If you want me to be your devoted lover, chaste and faithful to you and you alone, you just have to ask. But you do have to ask."
"No thanks! I am not glaring at you for inchastity or infidelity! I am glaring at you for injuring my best friend's marriage!"
"Well, if Ythac doesn't want Llredh playing around, he should tell that to Llredh. They discussed it a lot, I understand. There's a short list of permitted adulterous lovers: me and Arilash. And Kuro, though that seems to be new," said Tarcuna.
I glared more. I meant to be glaring at Ythac, only I was still facing Tarcuna, so some of it got on her.
"What? I can't do anything about it now!"
"I think I want to bite Ythac. Maybe I'll call in that debt from when he told me he loved drakes. He stills owes me a complete wing-gnawing."
Tarcuna glared back. "So what am I supposed to do?"
"Remind me later. I can't do it while he's giving the speech."
And it was nearly time for the speech.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Chapter 62
|
Ythac destroyed the podium with his flames, and spoke standing on its ashes. "O my husband! O my allies and friends! O my subject peoples! Know that, today, we flap our wings for the first time in the direction of saving Hove from the terrible wickedness that is cyoziworms. This is the beginning of a course of treatment. And at the end of this course of treatment, no unridden hoven in Trest will ever need fear the terrible worm again! No more will a casual kiss or tight embrace risk the loss of blood to feed the wicked parasite! No more will you risk that, in some horrible day, you yourself will lose your free will, and be compelled to devote your life and your soul to the preservation of a monstrosity that coils around your heart and insinuates itself into your brain!
"To be sure, we have not yet found a wholly general cure for the worm. Our current successes, while crucial to the happiness and good governance of Trest, are not to be widely repeated. On this topic we provide hope, rather than victory. The wise and clever Prof. Wulpmegarn leads a mighty research team, and in time hoven science will surely triumph.
"But we cannot wait for the scientific victory. We must protect the uninfested! We must pinion the worm beneath our claw, so that it cannot escape, even if we cannot kill it! And thus, today's part of the course of treatment. Magistrate Beanfeld has become the first of what will be many cyozi camps. In these protected halls shall dwell the worm's current victims. They shall be provided with all necessities and comforts! Yet, they shall be denied exit. They shall not prowl freely among the uninfested! They shall never drink pure blood, nor claim pure souls!"
"Soldiers, unlock the doors of the busses, show the first of the quarantined to their new homes!"
There wasn't much applause.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Beanfeld Battle
|
The soldiers unlocked the door of the first bus, and lead five dozen manacled and presumably infested hovens across the single narrow bridge over the moat, through the temporary gate in the coils of wire, through the permanent door in the grey stone wall. Once they were inside, their manacles were unlocked, and they drifted towards the apartment buildings.
The second bus didn't work so well. Two soldiers opened the door, as before. Manacled hoven hands grabbed them with transhoven strength and transhoven speed, dragging them into the bus, slamming the door. The soldiers outside blinked in confusion, hooting to their officers for instruction. By the time the officers had their first order ready — "Open that door again!" — the wormridden hovens had started the bus. The soldiers scattered before the gigantic (to them) vehicle, with mixed success. A few of them shot at it as it drove by, and the tasty scent of hoven blood and brains spread in the air.
Csirnis leapt into the path of the bus, and breathed. All the tires of the bus burst in his flames, but the volatiles in the engine were untouched. (Can I marry that beautiful, graceful, merciful prince? — yes, if I want to.) The bus skidded into him, but he and his the Ulthana's Targe stood firm.
Five dozen more wormridden hovens, less two and all rather shaken, were led from the ruined bus into their new homes. Csirnis and I did what we could to save the victims. The two wormridden shot by the soldiers were dead. The dozen or so soldiers injured by the bus were straightforward enough. One of the soldiers that had been dragged into the bus had been injected with a juvenile cyoziworm, and Dr. Grauzeng and I ripped his chest open and took the worm out whole. It had only gotten one probe into his brain, and we think not fully seated yet.
The rest of the busses were unloaded under the intense glare of five dragons. There were no further incidents.
|
World In My Claws
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Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Chapter 64
|
"Well, wasn't that miserable," said Tarcuna, as she scooped a bowlful of spiced snails from the zeppelin buffet on the way back. "Oh, light of Curset, these are going to be a pain and a half to eat one-handed, aren't they?"
"I'll shell them for you," said Bthera, also looking subdued.
"The apartments are miserable, you mean?" asked Dr. Grauzeng. "They were erected in a hurry, is all, I think. And of course they have to have walls and guards. We can't trust the wormridden to stay nicely away from uninfected people until we find a general cure."
Bthera broke a snail shell with her thumbs. "I'm thinking what it must be like to live there. There's nothing to do, except tend the cattle that your worms will be feeding from. The only people around are just puddles of wormridden misery like you. And guards who think you're a half-legendary soul-devouring monster."
Prof. Wulpmegarn nodded. "And they're not exactly wrong about that part."
Tarcuna stabbed her snail on an official Trestean Army snail-stabbing fork and waved it to punctuate her words. "I'm thinking it's utterly doomy! First you lose your life and your free will to a worm... then, as punishment, they throw you in jail for the rest of your life. Except that your worm is under a death sentence, if they can figure out how to kill it, so you're going to have to try to escape. Past armed guards. Terrified armed guards. Who will kill you if they can, or Llredh will probably kill them if you escape."
I hissed, "So go tell Llredh to let them go. You're on that kind of terms with him." I seem to be a bit jealous or something.
Tarcuna menaced me with the fork, so I ate the snail off of it. (spicy!) "I know what he'd say. He'd say, 'If you have a better way to keep the worms out of the population at large, please tell me now.' Also you owe me a snail."
I shucked a few more snails for her with my claws, working next to Bthera. "No, he'd say something like, 'The better way for confining the hateful worms — if you have her, give her to me!' He's not a drake who likes the word 'please', for one thing."
Tarcuna giggled at the imitation, and the professors grinned. The rest of the hovens obviously do not pay enough attention to their master's mannerisms and idiosyncracies.
Tarcuna menaced Prof. Wulpmegarn with her next snail. "And when will you figure out a cure for the hateful worms?"
Wulpmegarn did not take the bait. "I have no idea. Llredh is not helping much. He insists that there must be an herbal remedy for it, so we must look for one first. I think that we are wasting time and effort with that, but I am not really willing to argue with Llredh very much."
"Can't Ythac find one? He's good at finding," I said.
"He tried. There's nothing currently prepared in Hove that's a cure," said Prof. Wulpmegarn. "She explained that, for example, if there's no tincture of blethany anywhere in the world, and that were the cure, her spells wouldn't notice that blethany plants could be tinctured to give a cure. So have my students and less-skilled assistants and various new hires preparing all manner of tinctures and potions, hoping that one of Ythac's spells picks one out. I should be on expedition to the Godaxle, collecting parasitic forkworms and their hosts. Finding vulnerabilities in their life cycle! Figuring out how to extract them from their animal hosts! That is where the scientific value surely lies. You may tell that to Llredh, if you can somehow pound it into his exceedingly armored skull. I cannot."
"So, no time soon, then?" asked Tarcuna.
"I cannot reliably predict the timing of scientific revelation," said Prof. Wulpmegarn. "In this matter I am not particularly optimistic. Our research is just getting started, in only a handful of laboratories so far. It must be performed on live patients — and, indeed, patients who resist the experiments with amazing violence. Many of my colleagues consider the problem to be imaginary. I suspect that some of those are themselves wormridden. The issue is unlike any other in the history of science. Ten years would be optimistic. Twenty or thirty does not strike me as unduly pessimistic." He glanced at me. "I suppose that the dragons might speed the matter up somehow, as well as interfering. Ythac might come up with the answer tomorrow with her spells."
"His spells," I corrected. "Ythac is a boy."
"Ythac is...? But is not Llredh the male?"
"Tarcuna, you explain about Llredh and Ythac. You know more about it than I do." Serves her right for, well, knowing more about it than I do.
The revelation did not improve Prof. Wulpmegarn's opinion of Llredh any. Nor of Tarcuna, unfortunately.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
False Negatives (Day 650 and 651)
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"And how was your visit to Dorday?" I asked Tarcuna, as she clopped out of the armored car that had brought her from the airport.
"Miserable. My family still thinks I'm a traitor. My ex-girlfriend still thinks I'm a traitor. My former friends from college don't want to talk to me at all. My former friends from the Red Spire and such are mostly in protective quarantine camps and wormridden and I don't want to talk to them. I can't think of anything I'd say to them. The one that's out didn't want to talk to me either. Having an honor guard of the dragon's most trusted soldiers to protect me didn't help one bit."
"Poor hoven," I said, and patted her on the head. She glared at me, so I stopped. "But didn't you expect that when you set off?" Since she had said as much.
"I expected everything but meeting Ailenne in the street," she said. "Ovor, please put my luggage in my bedroom? I should be safe enough with Spotty around." The guard was not pleased at being ordered around, but he didn't argue.
"Who?"
"You. You're Spotty, right?"
I puffed winter fog at her. "Only to people who haven't learned to talk right. Who is Ailenne?"
"An occasional worker at Red Spires."
I asked, "One of your former lovers?" since I am trying hard to act like a grownup.
"Half of Dorday are my former lovers," lied Tarcuna. "I thought she was wormridden. She certainly knew all about it, and seemed quite sincere. You didn't heal her?"
"No, just you and Bthera. I wanted to check with Llredh about it. After a bath and a nap. The driver went out of his way to find rough roads whenever I nodded off, or turn the radio on high."
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World In My Claws
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Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Chapter 66
|
Considerably later, after a dinner and a pencil-and-paper game of tsheriaf (scores too low all 'round for me to want to record), Tarcuna did ask, "Llredh? Are there any more wormridden loose in Dorday?"
"The worms, they are gone from Dorday, I have sent them to camps! A small triumph over them, but a triumph!"
Ythac said, "Well, a very small one. We've been putting them in prisons here and there across the country. We're trying to build more camps, but the hovens are so clumsy and incompetent that it's happening very slowly." He glared at the mottled walls of his palace.
Tarcuna shook her head. "Wrong. I saw one on the street yesterday; a woman named Ailenne."
"A worm, free? I do not permit this revolution!" roared Llredh.
Ythac cast the Draft of Direction or something, and then a scrying spell. "We missed one... actually that's a man, so we missed at least two."
Llredh breathed jagged orange flames across Ythac's flank. "Your spells, your spells, your finding spells! Why did you cease to cast them?"
Ythac dipped his head. "I'm sorry, but we discussed this already. The questions get trickier and trickier to pose with each one I find, and there's only so many I can seek. And I do have other things to do than finding worms all the time. Just like Jyothky won't do surgery constantly either."
I chirped, "Besides, one berserk hoven with an unsatisfiable crush on me is quite enough."
Tarcuna nodded seriously. "I'd be jealous, and Spotty can't handle that." The first half was true. "Bad enough that I can't marry her and have to let someone else do it."
"I'm sure that the someone else isn't looking forward to it any more than you are," I said, which didn't make anyone feel any better. I healed Ythac's burnt flank, though, since nobody else was doing it.
"The worms of Dorday, they must be caught, they must be imprisoned or destroyed! All the worms, they must be!"
Tarcuna nodded grimly. "Perhaps I can come with you and see how your people are finding worms? They clearly have to do a much better job."
"'Better job' is not the style of Trest nowadays," said Ythac.
"Now! We shall go now!" clamored Llredh.
"I just got back from there," whined Tarcuna.
"Now! Come with me!" He made a grab for her. So I bit his foreleg to stop him, and Ythac scooped her out of the way as Llredh ripped bits out of my wings and slit my belly open while I tried ineffectually to do anything much more to him.
After five hits, he glared at me. "The Caramelle, do we fight her?"
"I think that's enough to prove your point," I said, and healed myself in case any of the wounds was serious, which they didn't seem to be very.
"Tonight, that is the time when we go!" proclaimed Llredh.
"How can you stand getting bitten like that, even if you can't feel?" asked Tarcuna.
"How can you stand having the weakest dragon on Hove as your defender?" I snapped back.
"Bah, Tultamaan, Ressal, even Nlirei, they are weaker than Jyothky. My victory over you, you must not insult her, Jyothky! You are slightly competent!"
I glared at him. "Fine, but I'm coming with you anyway." In Petty Draconic, using the right forms for someone who had just lost a fight.
"Tarcuna, you may carry her yourself!"
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Screening Techniques
|
"How is it that at least two cyoziworms got past your detection schemes, and are still lurking around Dorday, surely preparing to colonize more innocent people now that the worm density is so low?" asked Tarcuna.
The Dorday Arsenal didn't have an empty room big enough for us, so we were horse-sized, and sitting at three of the corners of a big square table in the Hall of Government, glaring at some senior gendarmes and a scared-smelling Prof. Wulpmegarn. Tarcuna was doing the actual interrogation, because she had more actual scientific training than we did.
"Well, we followed the professor's protocols very carefully," said one of the gendarmes. "I'm sure that there weren't any errors in enforcement. I think that the protocols don't catch all the worms."
Prof. Wulpmegarn snorted. "My protocols are based on the best available scientific research on cyoziworms. Llredh, you do remember that you ordered me to develop protocols to find all the cyoziworms in the country, and try them out in Dorday and see how they worked?"
Llredh's voice was smoky. "To find all the cyoziworms, this is what I ordered. To find the cyoziworms, this is what you have not done!"
"This is part of the development of protocols. I understand that your own powers are perfect and not subject to error, but ours are not. They start off severely flawed, and, over a period of experimentation and adjustment and improvement of theoretical models, become, if all goes well, extremely good. But even at our best, we must accept the possibility of false negatives."
"What is a false negative? It sounds like a number that's pretending to be below zero, but isn't," I had to ask.
"A false negative is a situation when a test is negative, falsely. For example, when a wormridden Ailenne is proclaimed clean, incorrectly," said Wulpmegarn. "A false positive is when someone is proclaimed infested, incorrectly."
"The false negatives, they must never happen!" exclaimed Llredh.
"Then you must use powers beyond those of ordinary people to perform your tests," said Prof. Wulpmegarn. "Technology can make no such guarantee."
Llredh and Ythac hissed at each other in Grand Draconic, about how Ythac could detect every worm in the country in a matter of one dozen years, or more, if he put his mind to it. And didn't sleep or eat or rule Trest — or couple with Llredh. And if the worms stopped reproducing, and no new ones came into the country. And if the guesses about the worm population were on the low side. I didn't try to translate for any hovens.
"Powers beyond those of hovens will be used, in the final cleansing. But the greater part of the work must be done by the hovens themselves. You, ultimately, are the ones who suffer from worms. You, ultimately, must labor the most to cure them," proclaimed Ythac.
"By which I understand that you will spare my life once more so that I can work on your programs for you?" snapped Wulpmegarn. "And these gentlemen of the gendarmerie as well, for all that they are trying to put the blame on me?"
Ythac lashed his tail. "Yes. But you must improve your protocols. You fail too often!"
"What are the protocols, anyway?" asked Tarcuna.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
How To Find Mind-Controlling Parasites
|
So we got a tour of the Cyoziworm Detection Program.
"This room is the eyeball of the operation," said the chief of gendarmes. "Until yesterday, we were inspecting the outskirts of the city. Now we are back on the downtown itself."
"An eyeball, it is not. An accounting-factory, she is what it seems to be," said Llredh. I couldn't argue. Dozens upon dozens of hovens sat at small desks with large stacks of paper, typing things into machines. Or, at the moment, staring at us and smelling of fear. A few tried to slink off, claiming biological necessities with varying degrees of truth. Llredh glared at the ones who lied. More of them looked as if they wanted to leave, but didn't want to call attention to themselves in the presence of the destroyers of their country.
"An accounting-factory we shall call it if you prefer. Every gendarme in Dorday is constantly alert for any report of suspicious behavior, according to the list of likely symptoms that Dr. Wulpmegarn provided. We attend to changes in behavior, especially an increase in fornication or in periods of absence without explanation in which the worm could be feeding. An increase of cowardice and reluctance to face physical danger. An avoidance of religious and social obligations. A sudden switch of profession to harlotry. We pay attention to instances of weakness and fatigue, as if a worm had fed from an uninfected citizen; then we attempt to locate the worm based on the time and location of such events. Such reports come to this room, to be collated and tracked, and, in the case of suitable suspicion, followed up upon. Allow me to show you the next phase."
As we left, the clerks started to breathe again. And whispered to each other, "The usurping dragons and the Black Curse. I knew I should never have taken this job." — "Me too, but the hotel laid me off. What else could I do?"
I flicked my tail, and scored the paint on both walls. I don't much like that nickname. The chief of gendarmes hastened to explain that the clerk's actual words were surely something else, and that the clerk would be put into administrative detention and inspected for worms straightaway.
"No, I hear quite well. But worms? I don't think that the wormridden are the only ones who hate me. You do too."
"I don't!" he lied. "I did until I saw a worm sticking out of a woman's chest and trying to claim my soul," he said, a half-truth.
"You've seen a worm?" I asked, to avoid bickering with one of Ythac's important subjects in front of him.
"Three of them. Sometimes when a person is strapped to the wall unable to move, the worm will protrude itself forth and strike. If it weren't for my udder-guard I would be in a cyozi-camp myself," he said. "Every gendarme on my team has seen a worm, every gendarme on my team hates them more than they hate you."
"Please stop lying to dragons. It really doesn't work. And you're allowed to hate us all you like. We certainly deserve it, for what we have done to you," said Ythac.
A different gendarme showed us the actual testing for worms, while Wulpmegarn narrated. "We have four tests for cyoziworms. The first test of course is intrascopy, which is as close to perfectly reliable as hovens can get. We are forbidden to use that test."
"Should we permit it again?" asked Ythac. "We cannot permit false negatives."
"I recommend against it. I estimate that ten to twenty percent of the wormridden would die in the intrascope, and that using intrascopy on a large number of healthy people will cause a wide variety of medical problems," said Wulpmegarn. Ythac agreed, before Llredh could say anything.
"The second and third tests are standard biological tests, of urine and blood respectively. The presence of a large parasite in the hoven body produces a variety of metabolites: the hormones and wastes of the worm itself, plus the stress products of the body's natural reaction to a large intruder." I had to cast the Word-Fox repeatedly, and I still didn't understand Wulpmegarn. Here's Tarcuna's summary: "The worm's easily-detected byproducts are all normal chemicals in the hoven body. There are more of some of them with the worm than without: the Kia ratio, of kiasterol to anakiathics, is much higher. That's easy to test. But the problem is that the Kia ratio varies a good deal in people generally. Some healthy people have a high Kia ratio naturally. (It would go up still more if they got wormridden.) So simply taking everyone with a Kia ratio of 0.08 or higher is wrong. Wulpmegarn's tests look at five indicators like that. His team of scientists is working to find more indicators, and to find more accurate ways to use the ones they have. That is Science. Which means it is slow to do, and imperfect."
"And the fourth test, invented by my student, is the easiest, the most reliable, and the least popular one of all. Recall that the cyoziworm protrudes through the lower part of the victim's udder?" Tarcuna's fur went entirely flat, and she and Llredh nodded fiercely. "Although the worm's influences do promote quick healing, repeated punctures leave a modicum of scar tissue. So, the shaving test is, the lower udder is shaved and inspected for scar tissue. It is an unusual place to get scars, after all."
"I'll bet that one is popular. Shaving there isn't much fun afterwards. You want that fur to keep your udder from chafing on your chest," said Tarcuna.
The chief said, "I've heard that, certainly. More often, our suspects don't like to be taken into a public room, and have a private part of their body exposed, manipulated, shaven, and inspected by a few strangers. Most of them don't believe in cyoziworms anyway. Several objections were quite violent: some from the wormridden, some from the clean. So suspects are now preemptively restrained."
Tarcuna inspected the restraints: solid metal chains to hold the suspect spreadeagled against a wall. "Even when I was a wormridden whore, you would have had to pay me a lot to strap me into that thing and poke at my udder." The chief of gendarmes frowned at her, and she frowned back.
"It is a good test, though," said Wulpmegarn. "The current protocol uses it as the primary test. Patients who fail it are then given the blood and urine tests."
The chief of gendarmes demurred. "No. We collect specimens for those tests regardless, in advance, as is more convenient. The specimens are discarded if not needed."
Wulpmegarn concluded, "Evidently there have been unauthorized changes in the protocol, though that one should be harmless as long as the tests are done promptly. If all three tests come out positive, the patient is highly at risk of being wormridden."
"Change the protocol!" thundered Llredh. "The blood test, the piss test — either of these, not both, indicates a worm!"
"There would be too many false positives — there are too many already. The tests aren't individually that accurate," said Wulpmegarn.
Llredh glared at him. "Improve them quickly if you wish! But you must use them as I command. Your replacement, she is somewhere to be found. Your severed head, he will encourage her obedience as a desk ornament."
Wulpmegarn shuddered. "I will do as you demand."
"Do your mightinesses wish to observe an actual inspection?" asked the chief of gendarmes.
Tarcuna nodded. "I do. Not just because I like seeing pretty half-naked girls pinned to the wall, Llredh. I might have something to say about your protocols."
Wulpmegarn frowned. "Your scientific training is minimal..."
"Two years in Dorday Academy, weapons engineering program, before my brain got taken over. My training as wormridden isn't minimal," she snapped. "I'm the only actual useful informant you have anymore, what with Llredh being a dragon and all." She gave Llredh an intense look.
Llredh nodded. "Tarcuna, you must listen to her, Wulpmegarn! She knows much, she is wise!"
So we sat through the inspections of twelve terrified and unhappy hovens. They were brought in wearing hobbles and handcuffs. They were released and stripped, and then bound to the wall.
Tarcuna frowned. "That's one point of vulnerability. The wormridden are stronger and faster than you are. One could fight his way free at that point. Or at least start fighting hoping to get free. You need to keep them bound all the time. Hands to the wall, then unlock the handcuffs, and so on."
"We did that originally, but this version is easier when the suspect needs to be stripped," said a gendarme.
"Ever have any trouble?" asked Tarcuna.
"Not to speak of," said the gendarme, lying. So we interrogated him, and, yes, two wormridden had exploded in violence at that point of the procedure and wound up getting killed by the gendarmes.
"Do it Tarcuna's way from now on," ordered Ythac. "I do not permit my subjects to die for your convenience." Simple enough. He really does have the best interests of Trest at heart.
Then a nurse came to take a blood sample, which was straightforward. The patient was encouraged to provide a urine sample as well, which they uniformly found shameful and miserable. It had to be done that way, though, because when privacy was permitted, the wormridden smuggled in clean urine. The shaving test generally caused struggles as well.
"You need a tight chest-strap as well as arm and leg straps there," said Tarcuna. "If I were wormridden and knew what you had planned, I'd writhe around when you were shaving. You'd cut my udder, and that would make the scars harder to see." (And when we interrogated Ailenne later, that is precisely what she had done.)
"That shall be part of your protocol too," proclaimed Ythac.
Then the suspect was released from the wall — the gendarmes changed the protocol on the spot to keep the suspect restrained at all times, without needing to be ordered to — and taken to a holding cell until the blood and urine samples could be checked. After which, they were unlocked, given their clothes back, and allowed to depart, generally trembling or even crying.
None of the dozen people interrogated while we watched were wormridden. "We get one, maybe two a day tops," said the gendarmes.
Ythac cast a spell. "Nobody in custody here is wormridden. Release them all. No need to subject them to that torture." He flattened his ears and smelled quite miserable.
"Torture? That is no torture! Public safety, science, my revenge — all three demand these protocols!", roared Llredh.
"I agree with the spiky orange and brown guy," said Tarcuna. "Sure, it's an awful way to spend an afternoon. But it's better than spending five minutes wormridden. And when it's over, it's over. Being wormridden isn't over ever unless some dear kind dragon comes along and rescues you, or you get lucky and die." She was truthful and passionate. "Better that everyone goes through that examination than anyone gets a cyoziworm again."
Llredh agreed. Ythac gave orders to inspect hovens more broadly, and to convert other buildings to examination centers, and train more examiners. Wulpmegarn was given special orders to improve the protocols still more.
And that's how you fight an evil insidious mind-controlling parasite.
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World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Etiquette of Jyothky (Day 683)
|
The High Desmers tower over the hilly Bweldraan farmlands, forming the northern barrier of that modest and generally tedious nation. I flew alone, with only a smoked bustard for company. At the edge of the mountains I bugled, my cry sending sheep fleeing across the plow-patterned hills and echoing jaggedly from the ancient stones.
Arilash answered me in kind.
"Arilash! Behold, it is I, Jyothky, erstwhile companion of your cave of nights! I bring tribute! Do not rip me again with your fearsome claws, do not breathe the familiar flames against me! If you challenge me here, I shall surely flee!"
She flew the seven miles to me in a few seconds and a scatter of broken music. "It is good to see you, Jyothky. What's with the formal manners though?"
I waved the bustard at her, and she snatched it out of my talons. As she bit it, I said, "I'm just trying to be polite. I didn't know what sort of terms we were on after I drove you away from some drakes you said you loved."
"I do love them, but not in a marrying sort of way. And as for us... can we be on 'You're the first dragon to see me and not have a fight since I left the mating flight?' terms?"
We flew side by side, far enough apart not to foul each other's wings. "We can try. Also on sharing the Horizonal Quill terms so I don't need to fly a quarter of the way around Hove to talk to you. What happened?"
"After you so boldly and violently chased me off — I will never forget those deadly vicious healing spells, not as long as I live! — I went to Psilia and Boruu. Seeking comfort and solace, of course. I didn't find it. I somehow tangled my wings and fell into a fight with both of them. They're not a bit faithful to each other, I know for a fact. But I said a few rude things about the institution of marriage as applied to the constitutionally unfaithful dragon. Meaning myself of course. They got quite offended, I think. They started explaining in considerable detail the great goodness of their marriage, despite both of them being rather like me. I couldn't take even an hour of that, Jyothky, not after giving up on the mating flight. I wasn't terribly polite to them, and then I flew off. I haven't talked to anyone since then. You're the first, and if you're not at least a bit nicer than they were I'm going to rip your wings off. Or maybe my own, if I can't catch you."
I glided under her and looped my tail around hers, which is the closest thing to a hug that one can really give in the air. "That sounds awful. Besides, you'll be able to catch me. You're wearing the Melismatic Tempest."
She peered at me. "And you're wearing the Dozenwing Dozentail. That's the nastiest spell ever! How can you stand it?"
I grinned at her. "I have Secret and Special Powers, remember?"
Arilash belched thick smoke. "It'll break your ribs, pain or no pain! It's a horrible spell — and don't you agree with me, or it'll bash you! Take it off this instant!" So I did. "I am going to teach you the Melismatic Tempest before you go!"
I laughed. "Long visit then! That's a hard spell. And I can't really pay you back with anything. I'm still playing catch-up on grownup spells."
"You will owe me a favor. Start by telling me the gossip." She descended a quarter-mile or so, circling a watchtower-adorned peak. Hovens pointed at us and watched us with telescopes, their weapons ready.
I followed her. "The mating flight pretty much fell apart when you left. Osoth went back to his catacombs and archaeologies the next day. Csirnis and Nrararn fought five Caramelles between breakfast and lunchtime..."
"Poor Nrararn."
"Poor Nrararn, indeed. It's his fault though. He kept challenging Csirnis. Csirnis went easy on him."
"How did he do?"
"Nrararn won the second fight. Csirnis was going too easy on him. Anyway, I think that was the last of the mating flight. Csirnis went back to Ze Cheya that afternoon."
Arilash flew by the tower, and breathed flame three winglengths over it. "Are they happy about having him there?"
"I haven't visited him there yet. I haven't recovered from the last visit yet. I don't think they have either. Why are you roasting those hovens?"
"You are such an Uplifter! I'm not roasting them," said Arilash. She wasn't. "I just want them to stop spying on me."
"I don't think they're quite going to get the point of what you want if you don't tell them," I said. Arilash hissed and sparked. I giggled at her. "It's not such a terrible matter. I'll tell them if you like."
So I dived at the tower and snatched one of the rangers from the window, and stole his language with the The Spilling of the Speech, and took him on a presumably-thrilling ride twice 'round the tower before I set him safely on the ground, unhurt save in dignity. "The horrible tan beast up there — wait, I don't have to call her that anymore! The largely sweet and relatively peaceful tan beast up there says that she doesn't want you spying on her anymore. She might have a boyfriend over now and then, but you're not to watch." Explaining that took not many more minutes.
"I wish I'd get a boyfriend visiting, though," said Arilash. "Flying over to seduce someone sounds desperate. They still should be coming to me, shouldn't they? The bachelor drakes at least."
"I don't know if there's any official etiquette of it. You're the first bachelor dragoness I've heard of. A widow would have some suitors chosen by the king, I think."
Arilash landed by her cave, which was barely big enough for her, and that only because she had melted it larger. "If Ythac tries to get me married off properly, I'm going to threaten to marry him. How are he and Llredh doing?"
"I'm never sure anymore. Ythac is trying to rule Trest, and having a sad time of it. Llredh is mostly working on his revenge, and, from what I can hear, on seducing everyone he's allowed to seduce."
Arilash peered at the cave. "You can sleep there if you like; I'll be comfortable outside. Poor Tarcuna; she must be getting terribly sore."
"She hasn't twined Llredh very often at all. I think it's Kuro." I folded my wings embarrassedly. "I'll sleep outside. I'll be more comfortable than you will."
"I'll melt the cave larger," said Arilash. "For when the drakes come calling, you know." She scooped a small pile of unimpressive valuables out of the cave, and breathed into it. As she was recovering, she said, "Kuro was Ythac's first love, wasn't he?"
I breathed on the cave after her, until the rock glowed white. "He wasn't talking about that to me at the time. I suppose I should get his true life's history. When I bite his wings off and officially forgive him, I suppose. I haven't done that yet."
"You're still angry at him?" asked Arilash, and took her turn melting the cave.
I breathed again, and the stone poured out of the cave over the black glassy path from Arilash's first expansion. Arilash and I hopped out of the way. Getting lava on your feet is awkward, and probably painful. "Oh, not at all angry, but I did promise."
"So who are you going to marry? Have you decided yet?" asked Arilash.
I laughed, and boiled more stone. "I haven't. Only Nrararn seems to be staying around to court me. Csirnis sounds like a better choice, but I don't think he much wants to marry me."
"He doesn't. He wants a female version of himself."
"The only way he'll find that is by shapeshifting," I said, melting more rock.
"And he wouldn't change sex, not even when I asked," said Arilash. "I think that's big enough. Now we wait a week for it to cool down."
"If we're not competing for drakes anymore, maybe you won't tell me what you had in mind when you asked him that?" I begged. I glared at the molten rock, and started breathing cold on it delicately.
Arilash laughed. "You're allowed to stop being a prude now, Jyothky. Oh, ice breath. I should have remembered you know that, you used it on me often enough."
"If you don't stop teasing me about that, I'm going to ask you the clawsome questions!"
"I'd just answer them. Do you want to risk that?"
"...I guess I don't. You have defeated me again, Arilash."
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World In My Claws
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Bard Bloom
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[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
"Death to the Cunyas" (Day 710)
|
Nrararn and I had been playing tsheriaf on the cliff walls by the Sea of Tangay all morning, and were busily eating roasted goatish sorts of things in spicy yogurt, and joking with the cooks about whether he could make flatbreads big enough for us to eat roast goatish sort of thing properly (viz., with flatbread). Tarcuna clomped by my side and whacked me with a clatter of her dragon-taming staff.
"So why are you angry at me today?" I asked her, since she smelled quite angry.
She fumed, "If you've saved someone once, you're obliged to save them again — right?"
"No, but I often will. What do you need rescue from this time? You don't look kidnapped."
She tossed her staff down, and the cymbals crashed on stones. "Not me. Bthera. Also Dr. Grauzeng."
"I remember Bthera," I said, since I did.
"I should hope so. Well, are you going to go rescue her, or not?"
"Probably I am, if the expression on your face is any indication. From what, or is that a surprise?"
Tarcuna glared at me. "You have not been paying attention to the news from Trest."
"I have a fierce minion to do that job for me," I pointed out reasonably.
"You've got a combat-grade social secretary, I should say," Nrararn pointed out. "It's easier to fight Csirnis than Tarcuna. Csirnis knows how to stop fighting when he loses."
I nodded. "And when he wins, too."
Tarcuna picked up her staff again. "Are you going to just talk when there's lives to be saved?"
"Whose lives are we saving, exactly, and from what?" asked Nrararn.
"We? You're coming too?" I asked him.
He snorted a gust of incandescent sparks. "I could stay here and eat your share of the goats 'til you get back."
"My goats! My goats! My tasty, tasty goats!" I lamented. "Actually, if Arilash were still around, I imagine you'd stay."
"A drake cannot afford to pass up any advantage in his quest to get a mate," he noted. Which he says at least twice a day now.
I've got about three good answers. I picked, "Csirnis and Osoth have their own approach to the matter."
"Csirnis and Osoth flee in the face of my intense devotion," said Nrararn.
"Which has intensified considerably now that Arilash's claspers are out of the picture," I pointed out.
Cymbals crashed in front of my nose. "Will you please get going?"
I looked down at Tarcuna. "Where are we going, and why?"
"Dr. Grauzeng's house got set on fire last night. Snipers shot everyone as they came out," said Tarcuna. "We are going to the St. Ploque-Dar Hospital in Dorday, where they are in critical condition. To start with. Then we shall see what to do next."
"Poor hovens! Whyever did anyone do that?" I asked. "But you're right. Yes, we are going. Nrararn, will you come?" I put the Melismatic Tempest into myself, and, when he spread his vô away, into him as well. I don't cast it nearly as well as Arilash. Or please my fiancés as well as Arilash. I am pretty sure she's ahead of me in the mating flight, despite dropping out of it.
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World In My Claws
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Bard Bloom
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[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Hospital
|
More hours than it should have taken later — considering that we had both the Melismatic Tempest and a real tempest behind us — we landed at St. Ploque-Dar Hospital. Not Naliere Hospital, which is what you get when you ask a gendarme in Pourride Avenue "Where is the hospital?" rather than "Where is Ploque-Dar Hospital?" We took hoven size, which was harder for Tarcuna than Nrararn and me. Technically, she was already hoven size, but she had to deal with the flight harness that fell off me. That is fair because she's (1) my minion, and (2) the reason I wear a flight harness anyway. It's unfair because (-3) she has only one working hand. Of course (4) I don't have working hands at all, and (5) I was supposed to go do some healing.
The secretaries and priest welcoming patients into the hospital were not very impressed. "Ah. More dragons. You must be here to see about the patients in room 71."
"That would be Bthera, Grauzeng, and family?" I said.
"The survivors."
"Who was here before?" asked Nrararn.
"The orange and brown one who styles himself our overlord," said the priest. Which is to say, Llredh.
"Where is room 71?" I asked. And got directions, and scrabbled my claws on slippery oilstone floors 'til we got there.
There was healing to be done, of course. Three bullet wounds in the girl; I don't think she would have died of them, unless one got infected. Only one in the younger boy, who might have died without healing. Five in Dr. Grauzeng's husband, who was in quite bad shape indeed.
The older boy and Dr. Grauzeng had been dead when they got to the hospital. Bthera had been alive, but had died not quite an hour before, as two doctors worked to save her life. Llredh probably could have saved her, but he was trying to hammer healing spells into Dr. Grauzeng at the time instead.
So I bit his tail. "Llredh, you are the useless drake! You let my friend die!"
He bit my muzzle. "Jyothky, you are the unwise dragoness! My useful professor, she is the one I need to be alive!"
"You are not going to make your hovens any happier with your reign by letting them die when you're standing in room," said Nrararn.
"Nrararn, you are the irrelevant drake! My hovens' happiness, of her you understand nothing!"
"He's right, though. You should have healed them," I said.
Llredh hissed, "The great fool of Dorday, she is Jyothky! For hoven happiness, it is slaying she should do here, not healing!"
"And what do you mean by that?"
"These children, this man, my doctor, your spare whore — hoven rebels killed them. You and I, we are too much trouble. The hovens who work with us, the hovens who side with us, they are the ones to die." Llredh pointed to a short spear on a table. Tied to its shaft was a flag, on which "Death To Every Cunya" was stencilled.
"What's a cunya?" asked Nrararn, and cast the Word-Fox. He stared at Tarcuna. He must be good enough to get etymologies with his spells.
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World In My Claws
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Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
The First Proper Trial on Hove
|
In the early afternoon, we flew here and there around the city collecting the seven assassins and sixteen of their co-conspirators. In the midafternoon, Ythac and Llredh amended the Stone of Merraro to allow proper draconic justice. In the late afternoon, we held a private little trial. I was truthforcer and judgment-maker. Llredh was sentence-maker and executioner. Tarcuna was the crime-speaker. Nrararn was impresario. Some gendarmes and hoven judges were bailiffs and attorneys. We were in an actual Dorday courtroom, which meant that some of us were hoven-sized for good reasons, and others were hoven-sized for other good reasons.
Tarcuna shrieked, "Some finding-spells say that you seven killed Bthera, and Dr. Grauzeng, and the family of Dr. Grauzeng. The rest of you made plans with them, bought them guns and kerosene, and encouraged them to the deed of flame and blood. I accuse you all of murder. Murder of the innocent, for children died. Murder of the distant, for they had worked no kind of harm to you."
"You wouldn't know about the harm, Miss Arch-Cunya," growled the wiry black-furred one. "You think dragons are a good thing."
"I know dragons better than any other hoven!" Tarcuna shouted. "I rein 'em in better than any number of vicious killers!"
I shushed Tarcuna with a glare, and tried that on the murderers. I am not quite sure that they understood that I was glaring; they certainly continued growling out slogans and accusations. So I swished my hukuchô over them, not quite touching, and they fell silent.
Nrararn jabbed me in the flank with a claw, which I didn't notice. So he said, "Jyothky, don't do that. Get the bailiffs to quiet people. That's why we have bailiffs. Oh, and you're bleeding." (-1 fiancé point.)
Llredh hissed at the murderers, "Grauzeng, did you burn her house, did you shoot her head?"
They stared at him quietly, though fearfully.
Llredh roared, "An answer! For to me you will make an answer, and you will make her now!"
They stared at him quietly, though fearfully.
"I don't think they can understand you. You!" I pointed at the wiry black one, whose name I think is Carlio. "Answer, yes or no. Did you shoot Bthera, or Dr. Grauzeng, or anyone in her family?"
He clopped a hoof on the courtroom's tiled floor. "Don't see why I should answer that one. You'll kill me if you want, you will." Truthful, claw-rasp it.
"We are doing things properly. Ythac would have it no other way. Answer my question, and truthfully," I said with all available dignity.
"Won't, and you can't make me," he said.
"Bailiffs, make him answer," I said.
The bailiffs stared at me. "Are you asking us to torture him?" one of them asked, smelling scared and upset.
"No, no, you should do that part. Bailiffs don't have hukuchôs," said Nrararn. (-1 fiancé point.)
I breathed a bit of ice on Nrararn (-1 fiancée point, presumably) and then brushed Carlio with my hukuchô delicately twice or thrice, until he was shaking and vomiting. "Now, answer. Did you kill any of those victims?"
"No!" he snapped.
"You're lying," I said.
"Tell whatever fiction you want," he said. "Or will you use that magic torture spell to make me tell it, monster?" He tried to stand, but couldn't. His gang-mates helped him to his feet.
"It's not a spell," I whined.
"Do your worst! You cannot break the spirit of free Trest!"
"The spirit of free Trest is all about shooting children running from a burning house? How sweet. You are better off under Ythac and Llredh," said Nrararn.
"Grauzeng and Bthera were cunyas — collaborators! They deserved to die!"
"So you killed them?" I asked, trying desperately to keep to the truthforcing.
"I asserted an obvious corollary of a moral principle, nothing more." Which was true. Carlio was a slippery murderer.
Nrararn leaned his head over Carlio. "It has been some while. But didn't Trest go to war with us over whether it was acceptable to kill children for their parents' crimes? And was not Trest, at that time, opposed to it?"
"The situations are utterly different!" shouted Carlio.
"Ah, the cry of the moral relativist," said Nrararn. "Before you die, I will bring you to the hospital — St. Ploque-Dar, let's get it right this time — and you will explain to Lyre and Pasquara just why you killed their mother. I'm sure they will appreciate the ethical niceties of the situation and find great comfort in your thesis."
"Ah, the cry of the kangaroo court," said Carlio. "You have written the verdict and the sentence already. All that remains is the charade of arriving at them."
"Nrararn's not the judgment-maker; I am," I said. "And we are going to have a decent trial. Your part in that is to answer questions and tell the truth. Did you kill Grauzeng and family?"
"I deny the authority of your court," Carlio said calmly, truthfully, and uselessly. His co-conspirators agreed.
"My husband's spells, they are not wrong," said Llredh. "Carlio, the murderer is he, and the murderer of a hoven who worked mightily against the evil worms. Now, he dances and evades at court. Mercy, she will not come for Carlio!"
"My point exactly, monsters! Kill me — and I am sure you will — but I shall not submit to your wicked and illegal reign! Nor shall Trest!" shouted Carlio.
That was quite aggravating. "Carlio! If you do not immediately and truthfully and unambiguously state that you did not participate in this arson and murder, I will interpret your continued evasions as a full confession!" I roared.
"Interpret it how you like. You will in any case," he said.
"And that will have to do for a confession. Bailiffs, take Carlio away, and bring the next defendant," said Nrararn the impresario.
The rest of the trial didn't improve a bit. Except for three of the hovens who weren't at the murder itself, who tried to argue that they were innocent. They had bought guns for Carlio and made plans with him. One had even visited Grauzeng's house and gotten a quick tour on some pretext, and sketched it for Carlio.
"I'm not exactly happy with what we've got so far," I said. "Finding-spells and non-confessions."
"Bah, the wicked ones, they are they! Death, she is their fate, and soon!" said Llredh.
"Let's get some witnesses. That's what you're supposed to do at a real trial if the criminals don't confess," said Nrararn. "I'm sure that Osoth can help out. He should see you at least a few more times while you're engaged, anyway." So we stopped for for overnight, and extracted Osoth from his catacombs. We slept in the Grand Hotel Dorday Elysium, and I politely coupled with Osoth twice by way of thanks.
|
World In My Claws
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Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
A Judgment of Ghosts (Day 711)
|
"Leave the dead to the quiet of the grave!" wailed Dr. Grauzeng. Or, rather, what was left of her, cradled in a basket of leaden words. "There is no sorrow like the sorrow of visiting the broken remnants of my life!"
"Sorry, sorry!" hissed Osoth. "Just a few questions and we'll have you on your way again."
"Ask. We must answer." said Bthera hollowly. Tarcuna hid her face in the curl of my tail and sobbed. I carefully didn't move.
"Who killed you?" asked Osoth.
"That one, and that," Dr. Grauzeng said, pointing to Carlio and another defendant. "My house burned. I ran to get Lyre, giving him such shelter with my body as I could from the kerosene-scented flames. Those two men shot us with Davrok-33 automatic guns as we came out the front door."
"Lyre lives. I healed him," I told her. I should know better than to try to comfort the living dead.
"He lives. I do not. Will you avenge me, monster? Will any one of you?" she cried, surveying the courtroom.
"The claws of the law, they shall be your claws! The breath of justice, it shall be your breath!" roared Llredh.
"It must be. I have no other breath," said Dr. Grauzeng. Meaning life's breath, I suppose, which isn't what Llredh meant at all.
Carlio laughed. "I'm sure that's some sort of illusion." Truthfully, though wrong.
"Those are the real spirits of the women you murdered."
He shook his head. "Silly games. Do you really think that the population of Trest will accept this trial? All your evidence is dragon magic, dragon senses, dragon proof. Nothing is real here." Truthfully. Wrong, since it's all real, but he believed it.
We asked a few more questions of the ghosts, and let Osoth return them to death.
Afterwards, Tarcuna asked us, "Why didn't you just ask the husband, or even the two children? They saw as much, or more."
Nrararn blinked at her. "I didn't think of that."
Osoth smiled. "It was merely an excuse to return me, however briefly, to my conjugial duties."
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World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Chapter 74
|
So, the judgment was easy to make: "You are all guilty of some quite wicked crimes, arson and murder and attempted murder."
"You are too," said Carlio. "Far more than us." Truthfully, yes.
"The torment and the death, they shall be yours!" roared Llredh the sentence-maker. "Nrararn's subtle torment, that shall come first!" And it was done as he commanded. I didn't watch the torment — it was probably worse for the children than for the murderers. Llredh killed them slowly, ripping them apart with his claws. That seemed appropriate.
|
World In My Claws
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Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Aftermath
|
Ythac and I flew through the upper air, chasing the edge of Eclipse. No travel spells, we were just flying and chatting.
"I'm glad you got them convicted at least," he said.
"Was there much doubt of it? What chance do some hoven criminals have against four dragons? Or even one, if he's got working veriception?" I asked.
"That's just the problem. I don't have enough dragons. I could employ all twenty-two of us, full time, just truthforcing at trials," he said, lashing his tail as much as one can lash one's tail and still fly straight.
I glanced at him; he was in the middle of a smouldering sort of fury. "You have that many trials?"
"Oh, yes. There's a gross of revolutionary groups opposing me. Two gross... a grand... sometimes I think that every soldier I've fired from the army has started his own revolutionary group, and half the civilians too. Most of them aren't doing anything, or not very much. The gross of them are doing things. Wicked things, too, from a hoven's point of view as much as mine."
"Like what? I haven't heard much of that, in Damma, and you don't write about it."
He fumed more, clots of darkness slithering over his chin. "I hate to scramble your mating flight any more. I've asked too many favors of you as it is. Some few murders: my chief of gendarmes in Churry City, is one you've met. Two of the scientists on the Twelve Troubles Report. Now Dr. Grauzeng. Hers was the bloodiest; usually they just go after the cunyas."
"That's a very rude word. Tarcuna kicks me every time I say it."
"Apologies. Usually they just go after my supporters. Well, I only have one supporter, that's Llredh..."
I hooted, "Me! Tarcuna!"
"Fine. I have three supporters, and I am very fond of all three of you. Usually they go after collaborators."
"Why don't you just find them and deal with them?"
He did something I have never seen before: he turned his head and breathed a wide cone of darkness at Perstra. It didn't get all the way there — he's a careful and Uplifty sort of drake — but I had to stare. "I did. I did my part anyway, I gave the names and addresses of the murderers to the gendarmes and sent them out arresting. The gendarmes did not do a very good job. They arrested the rebels wrong."
"How do you arrest someone wrong?"
"Kicking them, is a good way. A hoof to the belly of an un-resisting criminal, and the arrest is invalid in the eyes of Trestean law. There was rather an epidemic of belly-kicking. So Llredh changed that part of the law, and there was an epidemic of mishandling evidence instead in a dozen other ways. If a dragon's involved, the case goes right — as long as the dragon's actually in the room. As soon as the dragon flies off to get some much-deserved time with his husband, the hovens are suddenly as clumsy as Tultamaan giving a hand job."
"They don't want to be ruled by dragons," I said, brilliantly.
"It's not their choice," he snapped.
"No," I said.
"Not mine either," he said.
"Llredh thought it would be a good idea."
"At this point, it's as much a matter of honor as anything. I don't think I'm going to get much respect from any dragon for a grand of years even if Trest works brilliantly. If I marry another drake and we fail at our attempt to hold a country... we might as well go live on Plurdat or somewhere else that nobody will ever want to follow," he said.
"My poor trapped friend. I'll be helping you, as best I can," I said.
"I need you vastly, I'm afraid."
And then Virtuet escaped Curset, and we turned back to his entanglement of a capitol city.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
The Invaders Plot (Day 810)
|
Eleven dragons came to visit us in Damma, us being Nrararn and me. Chevethna and Arthane of course, and Psilia and Boruu. Ythac and Llredh and Kuro, flying in a triangle. Csirnis. Tultamaan. Ignissa and Gwixion: last, despite the heaviest travel spells I have ever seen. Ignissa can barely fly. She's elegant and pleasant though. If Tultamaan had a dozenth of her grace, he'd still be in the mating flight.
We welcomed them all with suitable happiness and considerable amounts of spiced meats. Damma was being a very good host, especially considering that we were meeting to discuss how best to conquer them.
Tultamaan said, "Before we can conquer anyone Else, we must conquer Ourselves. I suggest that a King and Queen who are not married to each other — who are, in fact each married to someone Else — are not a suitable King or Queen. They might be Disharmonious. A certain amount of Disagreement is possible, and maybe even likely. It is not a Supportable Monarchy. I urge them both to Abdicate in favor of Chevethna and Arthane, in keeping with the Original Plan."
"The fool of a silly, he is Tultamaan! Changing king, changing queen, this is no easy matter the tiny dominance fight! A war has established it, a war it will take to change it!" roared Llredh.
"By standard law, a straightforward dominance challenge should do it. Not like on a long-conquered world, with a knotted net of fealties and allegiances," said Boruu.
"I wasn't in on the original plan," I said. "And I mostly defeated you to protect some friends here: some hoven, some dragons. Chevethna, Arthane, I'll want some broad and honest promises from you if you are queen and king."
"What, we're not Uplifty enough for you? Listen to what we have done with Ghemel and Ghemelia!" roared Arthane. "Then you may judge for yourself!"
"I'm more worried about Ythac and Llredh. And Trest," I said.
"I'm pretty worried about us too," noted Ythac.
Chevethna sprayed us all with delicate flames. "What are you saying, you sillies? Ythac and Jyothky rule Hove. Anyone who disputes this may fight me first."
"Backwards is good style on Hove," said Boruu. "I thought you wanted to rule a world, though."
"I certainly do! I want Jyothky to conquer it for me though. That's much more convenient."
"Never had a tyrant queen such a loyal subject," I complained.
"More precisely, Jyothky and Ythac know Hove rather better than the rest of us. They might as well suffer through leading the conquest, which I imagine will be long and tedious. When Hove lies quivering and helpless in our claws, Arthane and I will have a long private discussion to decide whether we'd rather be king and queen of all Hove, or simply the power behind the throne."
"It is theoretically possible that Jyothky and Ythac will have their own power, and you could wind up as neither," noted Csirnis.
"Exactly!" chirped Chevethna. "If that happened, we'd challenge them."
"Like any proper tyrant queen, I am flattered to be informed that I will either be weak or deposed," I said, rather annoyed with her. "It will be harder to conquer Hove if I constantly have to worry about you supplanting me."
"That's exactly it. We promise not to be underhanded about it, and to be your loyal subjects and warriors — or doctors and architects or whatever you want from us — until we've won. Then you will need to worry about us supplanting you for a few days. After that it will be over, one way or another. And if you'd like me to say that again without veriception blocks, I'd be glad to," said Chevethna.
Tultamaan hissed. "I do not approve of this Change of Plans. Jyothky and Ythac are not suitable as Leaders."
"Not as easy to talk into things as Arthane is, you mean," snapped Chevethna.
"Which of them is the picture of a Heroic and Mighty Dragon, suitable as symbol of power and rulership? Arthane, definitely. Llredh, perhaps, if one is Unaware of his Disgusting Habits and Wilfully Ignorant of his History. But even so, Llredh is neither King nor Queen. Ythac is a stout and solid beast, again ignoring his History if one can somehow manage to do so. He is not the Picture of a Great One. Jyothky, for her part, is the Smallest and Slowest of us, and a rather Flighty and Inconstant sort of person."
"We're not in a mating flight together, right, Tultamaan?" I asked. I'm sure I was spitting sparks in two flavors, fire and lightning.
"You proved yourself Thoroughly Unsuitable to marry me quite some time past. I merely took the natural action that follows."
"Then I challenge you to a Duello Prolongato. With the stakes being, the loser shall stop complaining in public about the winner for a duodecade," I snapped.
Most of the dragons smirked. Chevethna giggled outright. "I think you'd best do it, Tultamaan."
"Win or lose, I shall surely Suffer the Most," he said.
"If you're not my fiancée, you can't score points off me for not being able to feel. And I'm not going to score points off you by talking about your foreclaws," I said.
Well, it wasn't a brilliant heroic fight. Tultamaan isn't a great warrior. Neither am I. I started out by zooming far away and searing his side with lightning before he tilted his the Small Wall against it. He breathed back, but I was too far for ice to reach the first time. We got closer together, and we traded breaths for a bit. With the Hoplonton to block his cold breath mostly, and him having to guess which of my three I was going to use next, I got five hits that way and only let him touch me once. So he tried to get close enough to bite me. Being an arrogant beast sometimes, I let him. We were pretty well-matched that way. Which is shameful for me, since I was two claws up on him, but he's quick with his neck and he's still got hind claws. He was starting to catch up, eleven to seven. So I did a fast dive, taking a cold breath on the back, but getting far enough away so I could breathe lightning and he couldn't do much of anything but block it and chase me. My fifteenth try at a lightning bolt got through. Twelve to eight, for a full Duello Prolongato.
Which got appreciative nods from the other dragons. Chevethna flew up to heal me, in case anyone was confused about who was queen and who had the queen's ear, wings, and tail. (Confusion remains about who has the queen's claspers of course.)
Tultamaan healed himself, and glared at Chevethna. "Your Support of your Supporters is lacking a certain Subtle Something."
"Now that you're not complaining about Jyothky, it is only fitting that you complain about me. Too much and I'll make the same challenge. And I am not the smallest and slowest of us," said Chevethna.
"Are we quite finished with the dominance contests?" asked Boruu. "While it is certainly a pleasure to watch our queen risk defeat for no particular reason — or to inspire loyalty in the shakiest of her troops, I'm not quite sure which — the original purpose of this gathering was to discuss conquering Hove."
"Ah, yes. So it was," said Arthane.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Status: Ghemel
|
We arranged ourselves in a rough circle, with Tultamaan as far from me as possible, and Chevethna on one side of me and Ythac on the other. "Chevethna, perhaps you could tell us what's going on in Ghemel?"
"I would say that Ghemel is well and thoroughly pacified," said Chevethna, strutting into the center of the circle, her oddly-masculine blue spikes pricking the air. "Actually, I would say that Ghemel is well and thoroughly ventilated in heart and liver and lungs by the last few conquerors. Jyothky imperiously commanded us to go there and Uplift at the place. Which has worked splendidly. If you want the real reason I'm deferring to Jyothky, it's because she's been a fine general so far."
"By 'fine general' you must mean 'telling you to do something and then leaving you alone for a few months'?" I said.
"Telling us to do the best thing and then not bothering us as we do it? My favorite sort of general, to be sure!" said Arthane.
Boruu poked the sand with a foreclaw. "A more effective general might pay more attention to details on occasion. Sometimes detailed tactics may be necessary."
"I said nothing about 'most effective'!" roared Arthane. "I said 'favorite'! I enjoy a general who is in no great hurry that the city be conquered this year or a dozen years from now. A more effective general might complain when I take a week or two off to twine my wife!"
"What's going on in the city?" I asked. I refuse to speculate or learn anything about Chevethna's and Arthane's intimacies.
"Hospitals are going on, and a great deal of healing by spells as well. That week or two we took off, we still spent a quarter of each day healing people. Nearly everyhoven in the city is suffering from harthene poisoning, asthma, or nerve damage from pain spells."
Llredh reared his head. "Harthene poisoning, what is that?"
"A waste product of making torque batteries for those big ray guns. Xolgrohim wasn't worried about safety precautions very much, and had them pour the stuff into a valley. It got everywhere. We had Hyxy come and breath-freeze the valley, so the hovens could at least pour concrete onto it and keep it from blowing around any more."
Boruu cocked his head. "How sane are your hovens?"
"They are fearful. They are given to weeping and despair when they look upon the wreckage of their country. At times they fall down crying. At other times, they wander about numbly, often but not always without the wit to avoid obstacles and menaces. Occasionally they are violent and full of rage, often at the works of Xolgrohim, of Trest, of Uncle Holder, but sometimes at each other and occasionally at us. But for the most part, they are fearful. At the start of each eclipse and each night, I fly over the city, slowly and loudly, and breathe my most brilliant and harmless breath over all. They are comforted to see a mighty protector and a light against the darkness," said Arthane.
"Me too. Well, 'aroused' more than 'comforted'. I can take care of myself," said Chevethna.
Boruu considered. "So I conclude that they are not very sane?"
"No, not very. But in a useful way," said Chevethna.
"What about the gods?" I asked.
"I tried to teach Menes Hu healing spells, but they didn't take. She's been pretty helpful though. Khudris got one, barely, and then he slunk off. I don't know where he went. I don't know what became of Branner at all; he was gone by the time we got there."
"How about the rest of the country?"
"We haven't worked on it much. The northern and southern regions are anarchies, with a bit of an extended festival of revenge going on in the south especially. The eastern regions were a bit worse, but that's finished now. We arranged for a partition, so that the ethnic groups who hate each other don't live quite so close together," said Chevethna.
Arthane flicked his tail. "Not a delightful answer. Many hovens were furious at losing their homes and businesses. Better than losing lives, I thought."
Boruu frowned. "So, is Ghemelia conquered and under a proper dracarchy?"
Arthane shrugged. "Ghemel the city is ours by any reasonable measure. The hovens see us as rescuers and healers. They obey us without question. Perhaps this is because our orders mainly concern who will get healed and which buildings be rebuilt first, and other such needful things."
"That's not true! We forced them to have a festival the other week, and to perform their traditional songs and dances for us! Remember?"
"The Kashlak Tver, yes. They more asked our permission to hold it, so, in principle, we could have told them not to," said Arthane. "In any case, we have been good conquerors, and are generally much loved by Ghemel. This is pleasant."
Chevethna thumped Arthane in the face with her tail. "My much-loved husband omits the answer to the second half of the question. The rest of Ghemelia is under no clear authority. Local warlords rule here and there. Trestean brigades control a city or two, counting as foreign warlords."
"They do?" Ythac sounded alarmed. "I thought all my armies had come back home. I ordered them to!"
"Ex-Trestean brigades, I suppose. They're called Tresteans in Ghemelia. I'm not accusing you of anything, Ythac. Anyway, the eastern regions vaguely acknowledge our authority or perhaps just power. We haven't really conquered them in any useful sense though. The rest of the country isn't under a proper anything."
Time to act regal. "Ghemelia is going to be one of the moral foundations of our presence on Hove. Anyhoven wondering what we are up to should be able to look to Ghemelia, and decide that we are not completely horrid. Chevethna, Arthane, are your claws full with Ghemel, or do you have time to work on the rest of the country too?"
"There is plenty for us to do in Ghemel. Would you rather we work on the city well, or on the whole country badly?" said Chevethna.
"I would rather that Ghemelia be worked on well. Ignissa and Gwixion, since you have come here today, I understand that you want to be part of our scheme?"
Ignissa dipped her head elegantly. I wish I could do that. (I can dip my head. I'm sure it comes out awkward and waddly.) "We want a domain of our own, and a generous one. We do not expect to get it without fighting or some sort of labors."
I turned. "Boruu, please cast the Draft of Direction and find out which part of Ghemelia would respond the most to Ignissa and Gwixion cleaning it up. They shall go there first. Perhaps the rest of Ghemelia will accept their direction better, having seen what they can do."
He stared at me. "What, now?" I don't think he was expecting me to give him any orders.
"Today we are deciding what to do. If you can't manage the spell, O sorcerer of information, I will ask the king to do it."
"As you usually do!" scribbled the king.
"Shush! I am trying to exert authority here!" I scribbled back.
Boruu frowned. "I... well, yes. I suppose I was expecting that we would make general plans and not worry about which province to go for first."
"We have a general plan: insidious insinuation. We will be useful and benevolent for duodecades, and prove that hovens are better off under our rule. Aside from the practical and ethical advantages, this plan will put off for quite some time the day when Chevethna deposes me."
Which got Chevethna blowing firebubbles at me for the rest of the meeting when I wasn't looking.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Status: Trest
|
"I don't mean to disintegrate Jyothky's plans in the darkness of my breath," said Ythac, "But Trest is not being an example that hovens are better off under our rule. Not yet." He lashed his tail. "I don't think it's the fault of our rule. The hovens aren't cooperating very well."
I waddled over and leaned against Ythac's side. "I know. Tarcuna gives me no end of misery about it. But your troubles are the best evidence that a direct military conquest won't work properly here. If you don't mind telling us?"
Ythac put a wing over my flank. "I don't mind telling you. Llredh conquered Trest for me as a wedding present..." He told the story of the conquest in cold Grand Draconic, without an inflectional marker of how he felt about it.
"That's certainly a more classic form of conquest than insidious insinuation. In some texts, it is the best form of conquest, when it works. It is quick. It preserves the value of the country, which conquest by flame does not." (That's burning a few cities, destroying the army, and demanding surrender of whatever is left. The dragons of Hasqueth conquered by flame, and notoriously burnt up a vast treasure of peerlessly carved bone and wood, and caused an economic collapse which cost them two-thirds of their subject population over the next duodecade.) "If the leader is hated, as Shuvanne seems to have been, it may engender less resentment than conquest by flame, as well."
Ythac flicked his tail. "I haven't lived inside those texts, though I certainly read them. Trest obeys us, Trest is conquered. Trest does not obey us well. I have commanded vast public works; they are not being built, or not fast or skillfully. I have proclaimed beneficial laws; they are not enforced, or not very often. I have revealed the peril of cyoziworms, with plentiful evidence from hoven scientists; the populace does not believe me. Dragons are feared in Trest, but not respected and certainly not loved. Chevethna and Arthane have better control of Ghemel than I do of Trest, and never mind that I've been at it much longer."
"You have my sympathy, and if I could figure out how to support you, I would," I said, and hugged him again. "But I think I understand something of the hoven psyche by now. They are not an easy people to conquer. The mhelvul were easy; they lived as slaves of their paingods in any case. We simply took the place of the masters, and the mhelvul obeyed us. Hovens... some hovens are slaves, to be sure. Mostly they aren't, or not exactly. The peasants in Damma can vote for the rulers of their country, though their votes are often ignored and generally bought. The citizens of Trest had much more say about the government of Trest than the peasants of Damma. Having had this taste of power and autonomy, hovens react very badly to being conquered by greater force. Oh, and the greater force is a problem too; they have killed a dragon, once."
"They killed a dragon after we had weakened him greatly and broken his apotropaics," said Csirnis. "I am not sure how even their greatest guns would work against, say, Boruu and his quotidian protections."
"True. That matters a great deal in a war. If we get impatient and try to conquer by force, we will have to worry about that extensively. But in the minds of hovens, we are not unkillable near-gods from beyond the universe. We are monsters of considerable power, yes, but we can be defeated and killed, and they know it."
"When were we ever unkillable?" asked Gwixion. "Mhelvul must have killed nearly a dozen of us."
"Unprotected children and careless adults were killed, much after the conquest. When nineteen dragons came to Mhel with flame and magic, a grand of mhelvul gods died, but not one dragon," Ythac said.
"Not so on Hove," I said. "We have lost one already. I do not intend that we lose another. So the theme of our conquest of Hove is this: In regular conquests, resistance to us seems impossible and hopeless. When we move to conquer Hove, resistance to us shall seem short-sighted and pointless. Hovens will not fight us. They will choose us."
Arthane cheered and crashed his wings together. The rest of my friends smiled, more or less dubiously. Boruu, who is not particularly my friend, rolled his eyes. "You're not planning to rule for a gross of years, or two, or three, are you? Hove doesn't have a single world-wide government, and if it did, they certainly wouldn't abdicate in your favor any time soon."
"I think I could endure simply being wealthy, powerful, much-loved by a medium-sized country, and, of course, frequently found in the company of my husband. Speaking as someone who had intended to rule Hove, and still might at some point," said Chevethna. "This will come about over the next year or two."
"Exactly. We'll rule Ghemelia, or we sort of do already. We'll fix it up, and then we'll have a home country for the first while," I said. "We'll pick up a few other countries here and there too. We don't need to conquer Hove all at once: one country at a time, as convenient. That's the 'insinuation' part of the plan."
Boruu shrugged. "I don't suppose I had any big plans for the next grand of years. None that Chevethna and Arthane hadn't already dashed, anyway."
"This isn't the last planning meeting we'll have," said Ythac. "In a duodecade, or twelve, we can change our minds and conquer the place by flame and magic. What is harder is to start off conquering by flame, and then switch to insidious means. I know that rather too well." He disentangled from me and embraced Llredh, rather shyly. "Though I do not reject or resent my husband's present in the least."
Arthane hissed to me, "They really are in love, aren't they? I do not understand that. I do not even want to understand that."
I hissed back, "Well, I don't understand how anydragon can be in love. I don't need to understand it, I just need to pretend it made any sense and that the dragons involved care about it."
He didn't speak for another dozen minutes, chewing on that.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
On the Use of Supernatural Medicine as a Tool of Conquest
|
"Do you have any particular part in this conquest for Boruu and myself?" asked Psilia.
"I have a part for you to consider, and tell me whether you can put up with it," I said. "If you can't, I'm sure there are plenty of other choices."
"I'm worried already," she said.
"Chevethna said you're a good healer. I would like you two to go Zheribac and set up a medical practice," I said.
She looked at her flank regretfully, where dozens of scales were loose. She put some small and elegantly-scented healing spells into a couple of them. "I am a good healer. Not because I enjoy it, though. With my weak scales, I get hurt far too much, and somebody has to take care of it. Which usually means me, but sometimes Boruu. So we've got the power to do that."
"She is unenthusiastic, not being much of an Uplifter at all," said Boruu. "I am an Uplifter, though like most of us I prefer to uplift my own small people intead of some that I've never met in a country that I've never been to. Perhaps you could explain your intent here? In your most inspiring words?"
"I am not an Uplifter at all. I am a Downcrusher. You would be too, if you visited the war-pits of Logresh," said Psilia.
"I never have," I said. "But we're on Hove now, and I hope I don't need to explain again why we're taking a slow and subtle approach." Two-thirds of an hour of repeated explanations later, plus an incomprehensible but rather upset polemic from Llredh, we got back to the point. "I want to start the process of getting hovens to regard dragons as powerful, benevolent beings who will, for suitable consideration, bring them good things that hovens cannot procure for themselves. So I want you to heal them — especially diseases that they don't know how to cure — for money."
Boruu nodded. "How much money?"
"Lots of money," I said. "But not lots and lots of money. Ythac, could you please use your considerable hoven spy network to find out how much a doctor charges for treating, oh, Moray-Lagrozo Syndrome for a year? In Trest, if not in Zheribac. That should be what you charge for a full heal, Psilia. We want to be Hove's best and most expensive doctors."
Chevethna laughed. "You have done your homework, if you know the uncurable local diseases already! If anyone doubts my wisdom in putting Jyothky in charge, let them listen to this!"
"Well, if you were in charge, I'd be just as helpful," I told her, because I am the worst dragon for dominance that ever was. So she bit my wing as punishment for defying her in her support of me, which is very confusing. Psilia is very good at healing spells though. She used a small one like a silver ball full of plainsongs, that worked more nicely than the Rose Rescaler and with a twelfth the effort.
Tultamaan shook his head. "You are being Unwise. You may think you're working in support of your scheme, but you're really not."
I hissed at him, "And you may think that you're keeping your promise not to complain, but you're really not."
Tultamaan shrugged his wings. "I'm not coming here to be Useless, you know. I'm not just on this trip because I Know The Way. I have Many Excellent Ideas."
"You're just on this trip because the king of Mhel finally got sick of you, plus you were poaching from Rankotherium, and you got exiled," I shrilled.
"That's one Way of Looking At It. A Wrong Way, but it is one Way," he said. Infuriating beast. "Are you ready to hear the Devastating Flaw in your Current Scheme? Together with the readily-available Means for Fixing It? Or would your Royal Queeniness prefer a bit more Libel first? I don't mind. I'm quite used to it."
"Just say it, Tultamaan. If it's your usual whining nonsense we're going to fight another Duello Prolongato, though," I said.
"I imagine we'll end up fighting, because you don't seem to Understand Things Very Well sometimes. But here it is, None The Less. You said we were to become Hove's best and most expensive doctors," he said in a mockingly gutteral version of my voice. I nodded sharply. "And you also said that we're trying to become well-loved by hovens," he continued. I nodded to that.
"Now, your Brilliant and Insightful Investigation into the depths of the hoven mind — which involves shapeshifting, does it not? And has something to do with that whore who follows you around constantly? — In any case, you might not know this, but the most expensive doctors are Not the best-loved. They are, I would suspect, rather Unpopular."
I hissed annoyedly. "The price isn't to be well-loved, Tultamaan. You're missing the point. We also need to become rich. We want to live well while we're conquering the place. And, for that matter, wealth will let us conquer more easily: if a country has a famine, we could buy them food, and earn that much extra gratitude."
"Yes, yes, I had gotten that far, and Quite a Few Steps Further. But y'don't want one part of your plan to Counteract the other. That's casting spells into your vô. You don't want the doctoring to make us Unpopular. And if there is any dragon who understands Unpopularity in all its varigated Splendor, that dragon is Myself."
I flicked my tail. "For some very good reasons. Go on."
"So Psilia and Boruu ought to charge a lot sometimes. But they ought to do half their healing for free. Hire a hoven secretary to hold a lottery, perhaps. Show everyone that they are Benevolent and Hoven-Loving Creatures, who mean nothing but Good Will to the Whole World. Unlike the wicked tan personage who showed up at the Kyongsy Temple first, who might have given them the Wrong Impression. What was her name again? I seem to recall that she was the Less Inferior of my last pack of fiancées, back when I still thought such things mattered."
"Um... Arilash?" guessed Arthane, while I spluttered sparks and other sparks.
"Arilash! I remember now, yes, Arilash. What has become of Dear Little Arilash? I haven't seen her or heard of her since the war." Which surely was a lie; I can't imagine Tultamaan not keeping up with the gossip. "In any case, if this honored and surely entirely proper Couple." He swept a wing at Boruu and Psilia. Everyone but Nrararn and Csirnis and I laughed. "This Couple who Surely are Uninvolved in any Indecencies with Arilash or Anyone Else. If they charge high fees sometimes, and free sometimes, they will get both the Wealth and the Good Regard that fit in your plan. They won't be working against themselves."
Boruu grinned. "The real reason Tultamaan came to Hove: Psilia is the one dragoness anywhere who will have him."
Psilia smirked. "He's not that bad a lover. If you wrap your tail around his muzzle to shut him up, of course."
I snarled at them. "Please keep that private. Hove isn't all libertines."
She slithered over and bonked her muzzle against the underside of my chin, which is a sort of lightly grovelly apology. "I'm sorry. I'm not used to having any other libertines around, or dragons who tolerate us."
I licked her between the eyes, which is the polite acceptance of that apology. "I'm getting used to the libertine part. I did share a cave with Arilash for a long while. But the last breaking of my mating flight is still poison-bitter on my tongue."
Boruu had been chatting with Tultamaan. When I finished mutually apologizing on his wife, he spread his wings. "I think I like Tultamaan's plan, to get both money and respect of hovens. We'll present it as compensation for Arilash's fight at the Kyongsy Temple, even."
"Which was also My Idea. A Codicil on my Previous Point," said Tultamaan.
I bit my left wing. "Right. It does sound like a good plan, Tultamaan."
"Heartfelt Thanks are not necessary, Jyothky. An Angry Expression of Adequacy will suffice. It's not as if your plans would be Completely and Inevitably Thwarted by your own incompetence without me. They might simply be Greatly Delayed."
"Tultamaan, thank you for contributing to our plans, and if you ever have any other improvements to them, please don't hesitate to say them. Though with fewer insults, if you can manage it." Getting the words out was not so easy, and I don't think they sounded quite sincere, because they weren't. He's bad enough when he's wrong, but he's utterly horrid when he's right.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Privately
|
There was a great deal else to say. We said it all, at least six times each, and it took all day and through eclipse and well into night, and I was so glad when ten of those dragons left. The eleventh one, Csirnis, left too, which was rather insulting since he's engaged to me and he hadn't treated me a bit like a fiancée.
Still, that left me and Nrararn and a whole lot of quiet, flying over a fecund forest in the middle of the night.
"I know you're probably tired of talking, but there's one thing that still bothers me," he said.
I was tired of talking, but I know how to treat a fiancé, even if Csirnis doesn't anymore. And that's not just twining him. "If there's only one, you're in better shape than anyone."
"One thing that nobody quite said. Conquest by fire always works. Well, mostly. Sometimes you end up with a cinder-world, or sometimes you try to kill a god too big or something and you have to run away. But we could pretty much conquer Hove by fire if we tried. We'd be boiling our tails afterwards, but we'd win."
"Yes," I said, because it's true.
"Insidious insinuation doesn't always work. It doesn't even often work. We've been on Yyrclarian for how long? Two grand of years? I think we own about eight cities and a pawful of islands."
"Yes," I said, because that's true too.
"What if it doesn't work here?"
"Then we'll be stuck living very well here, without actually ruling, the way the dragons of Yyrclarian do. And we'll have been treating the hovens decently all the while, too. Think you could stand that?"
Nrararn thought a while, which I really do appreciate. "I wasn't exactly expecting to hold territory myself in any case. I'm still not sure if you're going to marry me."
"I'm not sure either," I said, because it's true. "I haven't made up my mind one way or another. I have a few years left."
"I suppose that the burghers of Yyrclarian endure their fates with aplomb. And with a rather more lavish lifestyle than we had on Mhel, mostly. I could probably do the same," he said eventually.
"Well, will you support me in doing this the slow but morally defensible way? I'm trying to behave well towards everyone anymore, even hovens. Not that it's easy or even possible." I demanded, which is rather rude in retrospect.
He laughed. "If I say yes, will it get me married?"
"If you say yes, it will get you twined," I said. "Behaving well towards everyone starts with my fiancés."
"That's the best offer I'm like to get, for love or life. So yes," he said.
We're not Arthane and Chevethna. We're not even Nrararn and Arilash. But he seems to have an adequately good time with me. Unlike the dragons who used to inhabit the temporary tents in the Imperial Patthakadu Cavalry Academy.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
The Conquest of Vlechinse (Day 944)
|
I'm not quite sure why Vlechinse brought out their whole army when we came to visit. They hadn't done very much to us the last time we came to Vlechinse and fought them over Port-of-Zom. Or maybe that was a good reason: they wanted to show that they were brave enough to face us again. We weren't persuaded, since they stank of fear all day. But they didn't run away either.
Premier Clistei rather stank of fear too, poor hoven. He had six huge tanks with big twistor cannons on each side of him. That gave him no great chance of surviving a fight: there was nothing but the eighty-eight stairs leading to the front door of the Vlechinse parliament hall between him and us. "You have requested a meeting, O dragons," he announced when we landed. "What do you want?"
This was an unduly difficult question. The answer was easy enough: I wanted to apologize for my part in wrecking Port-of-Zom. Because we — all the dragons — were trying to appear as friends to hovens and reasonable neighbors, despite a rather dubious start and some of us having conquered one big country. Also because I was, and am, sorry for killing all sorts of hovens, for all sorts of reasons that were mostly good at the time but seem rather petty now. Mostly I can't do anything about it.
But of course one can't say "I'm sorry for killing your soldiers when they tried to defend that city, and I'd like good relations between us so we can get started conquering your great-grandchildrens' country. Or at least getting rid of your cyoziworms only without all the blood and flame this time." One does not admit mistakes like that if one is honorable, and one does not admit plots like that if one is sensible. I'm not nearly enough of either one, but with Csirnis at my left flank I managed to be a bit more attentive. Nrararn and Osoth, whom I'd managed to talk into helping, are about like me.
I didn't know the etiquette. It's part of the proper way of dealing with free small people and free small-people countries, of which there were none on Mhel. I had had to ask Csirnis as we flew there. There weren't any on Chiriact either, but of course Csirnis knows every etiquette.
"I come with demands for the people and the country of Vlechinse. In four days you must bring four grand of sick hovens to four hospitals in four cities. Each of these sick hovens must be suffering from a disease or injury against which hoven science is helpless. In those places, by our might, the sick hovens will get their healing." The honorable approach is to arrogantly phrase your apology as a set of inexorable demands which must be obeyed.
Premier Clistei was no more familiar with this corner of etiquette than I was. "And what else?"
"I have presented the fullness of our demands upon Vlechinse!", I said, which I hope is the right answer. I glanced at Csirnis with my left eye, but he was carefully impassive and dignified.
Clistei seemed a bit bewildered. "You are demanding patients to heal?"
"Other countries have felt the weight of our powers of healing!" I proclaimed. "Now it is the turn of Vlechinse!" Csirnis was clearly exerting himself to stay impassive, and Nrararn was out-and-out snickering. Fine. I will couple with Osoth tonight!
(And I'll hope that that's still an attraction anymore.)
The premier didn't snicker, at least. He looked nervous and dubious. "What, precisely, do you hope to accomplish with this?"
"By this exercise we demonstrate our majesty!" I explained. Nobody found this persuasive, least of all me.
Csirnis butted his head against mine. "May I explain further?" I gave him grudging eager permission. "In other lands, such as Ze Cheya, dragons live harmoniously with hovens, to the extent that hoven politics permits. Part of the harmony is based on a simple exchange: the dragon is a doctor in ways that hoven doctors are incapable of applying. In return, hovens provide things which hoven science and hoven craft and hoven hands can do. In my case, this is largely food, a place to live, and occasional presents."
"That is Ze Cheya," said the premier. "And what, precisely, do you hope to get here? Are you coming to live?"
"After we have finished with our healing, we shall depart from Vlechinse and cavort for some days in the sea," he said.
"I am unclear on your motives, dragon of Ze Cheya," said the premier.
"We wish to be regarded as valuable and welcome guests wherever on Hove we choose to travel," said Csirnis, beautifully skirting between truth and apology. "Vlechinse has reason to regard dragons otherwise. The reasons are outdated; we no longer hold hovens responsible for the actions of the wormridden. So, we come to explain the matter further, in the most direct way possible. You have seen our powers of widespread destruction. Now you shall see our powers of widespread benefice."
"And if we refuse?"
"Then six thousand, nine hundred, and twelve hovens will die, that we could have saved," said Csirnis, so diplomatically that he actually used decimal numbers.
"You would simply depart?"
"We would be offended! We would depart, and not return any time soon. And we would visit each neighboring country, and work an extravagance of healing there. Your citizens would soon grow to understand the vast blessing that you cast aside," said Csirnis. It always comes down to threats sooner or later.
"I shall consult with my cabinet," said the premier.
"Take not overlong! In four days we shall expect our patients. If they are not there, neither shall we be there for overlong," said Csirnis. He made a secret gesture, and we all took off in a thunder of wings, more or less simultaneously. The tanks pointed their twistor cannons at us as we left. It will be a long time before Vlechinse trusts us.
And a long time before we've earned their trust. I don't know what we'd do without Csirnis. I should marry him straightaway.
Coda: Yes, Yes.
Vlechinse accepted our apology charity demonstration of power. I had to get Tarcuna to call him and explain where the patients should go, though.
Osoth accepted my offer to couple. He didn't seem particularly unhappy about it, though not nearly as eager as the first time.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Terror Hospital (Day 948)
|
A grand of patients filled the Igtatte havocs arena quite nicely. The sicker and worse-injured lay on cots on the field, with a gross of harried nurses running to and fro trying to keep them alive. The greater part of the patients waited in the bleachers. A small herd of gendarmes stood attentively. A large herd of soldiers blocked the exits. The whole place smelled of fear and hatred.
Well, I had insisted upon this chore, and bullied my fiancés and Vlechinse into it. I landed in the middle of the arena, and started putting the Arcane Anodyne into everyone I could reach. Cancers and syndromes spilled shrieking into the outer darkness before me. Or at least hovens stopped being unhealthy.
"That feels much better," said one young man, sitting up for the first time in probably a long while.
"Glad to hear it!" I said. I finished up the last two people on the field, and shouted at the gendarmes to bring the people from the stands down here because I certainly wasn't going up there at my size.
"What happens next?" he asked.
"I think a bunch of people with Moray-Lagrozo Syndrome, if my tongue is right," I said, showing off nearly the full extent of my hoven medical knowledge.
"I mean, after all the healing."
I cocked my head. "That's up to you, I suppose. Your family or whoever, too. You could spontaneously decide to contribute a grand of thurnies to me." We are not specifically shaking the hovens down at the moment, so I added, "Or write a nice thank-you note, or whatever the Vlechinse do in response to nice gifts. And I certainly would appreciate it if, whenever someone asks why you're still alive, you say that Jyothky healed you. You can call me 'Spotty' or 'the black one' if you'd rather. Not 'The Black Curse'; I don't really like that nickname."
"Do I just go home?"
"I imagine so," I said, as I made a ragged woman with ragged clothes stop having a blood disorder that didn't quite smell like Moray-Lagrozo Syndrome. "Assuming that you've got a home."
He shrank a bit. "What did you do to it?"
"Nothing! I just don't know the first thing about you, other than you were sick. And come from Vlechinse. OK, I know the first and second things about you, but not the third. Maybe you've been an orphan for the last dozen years and don't have a home."
He shook his head. "I have a home. My parents are waiting outside, beyond the soldiers. I'm Hemm."
I waved a wing a bit. "Glad to meet you, Hemm. Why are there soldiers out there, anyway? If they attack me I'm probably going to wind up killing more people today than I healed. Which isn't what I got up this morning to do."
"The soldiers? They're making sure none of us run away."
"Why would you run away from getting healed?"
His fur went muddy. "The rumor was, you'd be taking us for slaves afterwards."
I shook my head. "No. I've got one hoven slave already and there's no end to the trouble she causes me." (Tarcuna is back in Damma, enjoying an utterly unearned vacation with the help of two very expensive hired girlfriends. She is treating them very nicely, having worked in that trade herself.)
"Glad to hear it."
I smirked at him. "Glad that she's causing me trouble? Do you perhaps think that she causes me so much trouble that I fly to Vlechinse for a day of medical exercises to get away from her?"
He dipped his head. "No, I spoke wrong. Glad not to be taken as a slave myself."
I healed a couple more hovens, and said to Hemm, "Oh, that. I'm glad not to be taking slaves. For one thing, carrying a grand of you would be a bother and a half. And feeding and tending you would be even more inconvenient. A starving slave is a useless slave. A naked slave is a slave who is about to get his legs infested with mites, in Damma at least, and that's not much more useful," I said. He looked nervous, so I added, "I'm joking. I mean, everything I said is true — dragons generally don't lie. But I'd rather have servants than slaves. They usually do a better job, and they don't smell nearly so miserable."
He didn't look greatly comforted. "Can I go home now, please?"
I blinked. "Oh, certainly! Just chatting. Casting the same spell all afternoon is a bit tedious, and I've two or three gross more to do."
He thanked in my general direction a bit, while I healed three more people, and ran off towards an exit. In a few minutes he was back, "The soldiers still won't let us out. My parents are probably dying of terror outside."
I looked at the line of patients. They were all dying too, of worse than plain terror, but by months not by hours. "I should do something about that, shouldn't I?" I raised my voice and said, "I'm going to take a break and tell the soldiers to let everyone go. Back in a few minutes to heal you. Don't go away!" Hemm looked a bit quizzical at that, so I added, "Unless you want to!" He grinned, though nobody else did. (I am clearly conquering Hove one hoven at a time. Two already, and I've only been working at it about 948 days.)
The soldiers didn't want to let the patients out of the arena. "Rather, we'd love to let them go, but we have our orders," said the commandant.
"Would it be quicker if you got new orders, or if I dispersed you myself, do you think?" I asked him.
"Let me call my commanding officer, please," he said.
It wasn't quicker, but in a third of an hour, ex-patients were leaving the stadium to their families.
Two hours after that, I finished with the last patient and got to leave, myself. I have no family per se here. I joined Osoth, who is the worst healer among my fiancés, and helped him finish up. He wasn't particularly grateful, since I had made him do the work in the first place. So I let him stop altogether, and conjure a choir of ghosts singing patriotic Vlechinse anthems and drinking songs 'til I finished his chores.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Undercover (Day 1126)
|
"Your cooks aren't very good, I'm afraid," Nrararn said to Ythac, digging a seven-inch shard of glass out of his gum with a claw.
Ythac nodded ruefully. "Haphazard and careless. I suppose we could go interrogate them and discover the perfectly ordinary and natural explanation of why Pern St.-Hermaph, who is widely recognized as one of the best barbeque chefs in all of Trest, accidentally leaves large chunks of glass in an animal intended for an honored guest of his master. If you like."
Nrararn and I looked around the banquet hall. It was large enough, at least; it could have held eight dragons, not just four and one hoven. It was supposed to be a rectangular prism, which is a simple shape and ought to be well within the skills of the expert architects and building companies that Ythac had drafted to make his palace. The walls jogged crazily in the middle, though, where the surveyors had unaccountably made a whole hooflength of an error. I took a tenasensitive glance, and closed the blades over that sense; the entire room was rancid with tiny structural flaws. "Why do you put up with it?"
"Bah, the minor inconveniences, they are nothing to us," said Llredh. "Mighty dragons, they dwell here! Effete comforts, they are not our urgent need! Your own flanks and wings, they have felt worse than some bit of glass! They have felt my claws, my fangs, when we contended as fiancés!"
Ythac shrugged. "I fired the first few incompetent hovens. Which produced such a wave of incompetence, you could never believe it. The gentleman who painted that wall did it with his eyes closed." Ythac gestured with a wing; the one wall that was not bare concrete was a mess of blue and white streaks. "He said he did it that way so as not to get any paint in his eyes, truthfully. He said he usually wore protective goggles, but had neglected to bring them, truthfully. He said that he had forgotten them, lying. He said that he was in such a hurry to do the wall that he did not wish to go get another set, lying. He said he was sorry for any inadequacy in his work, lying. He said he wouldn't charge us, true, but he was doing corvée labor anyway. I nearly killed him out of frustration, but how could I kill someone for just painting badly?"
"The crazy Uplifter, he is my husband dear! That crime, or far less, for that I could kill any hoven. When skill returns to them, then they deserve such mercies."
"If you killed everyone who did badly by you, you'd have no subjects left," said Tarcuna, who knows how to talk to us.
"Bah! Useless subjects, dead subjects, what is the difference to us?" roared Llredh, loudly, in Trestean. Then, more quietly, in Petty Draconic, "Actually the difference is fairly large, but we can hope that they are intimidated into better obedience by hearing that."
I don't think Tarcuna followed that, since she just said, "Unless you rescued a few from cyoziworms. Then you'd have a few completely devoted hovens." Which got the two of them discussing the devermification plans, which were going as badly as everything else involving unwilling hovens. Worse, since most hovens don't believe in cyoziworms, still.
"Jyothky, do you remember how Llredh and I flew out to Ghemel to help you and protect you against Xolgrohim? How we were prepared to dive into a trap to save you, though it turned out unnecessary?" asked Ythac.
"Yes, of course. I'm quite glad to have friends like you. Especially since you're not just after my claspers."
"I beg your pardon!" chirped Nrararn. "I am not just after your claspers. I am after your matrimony!"
"You are after my claspers for life, then!" A certain amount of swatting each other with claws was obligatory (and fun) at this point.
Ythac waited for us to finish, and then he said, "I was wondering if you could do me a favor as well, Jyothky. There aren't very many dragons I can ask, and not very many hovens I can trust."
"What is it?"
"You like turning into a small person and, well, pretending to be one..." he said. I nodded, because it was true. "Could you lurk around for a while in small person shape, and, oh, find the special solution to all my problems?"
"I can do half of that," I said. "I don't know what I'll find that you can't find with finding spells."
"You'll learn things, you'll get clues and hints. Maybe you'll come up with something that can let hovens tolerate us better. I'm trying to be a good ruler, really I am, but I can barely get anyone to obey me at all, and when they do it always comes out all wrong."
"I'll go with her," said Tarcuna.
"That you will not," I told her. "They hate you more than Llredh, I think."
"I don't care what they think anymore. I've been despised as a woman-lover, then as a whore, now as a dragon-lover."
"But if they recognize you, they will probably try to kill you. Then I'll have to massacre some of them to rescue you, again, and that will just make Ythac's lot that much harder," I told her. "You can stay here and entertain Llredh." Which got a snicker from Llredh and a snarl from Ythac. "And give me advice by the Horizonal Quill, so I'm not quite such a naive idiot all the time." Which she accepted grudgingly. My minion isn't any more obedient than Ythac's subjects, though she's certainly more determined to be helpful than they are.
"I'll go with you," said Nrararn.
"I don't quite know why two confused hovens will do better than one confused hoven," I said.
"I will be your pet cat. Your loyal and very clever pet cat, who follows you everywhere and only talks to you by means of the Horizonal Quill. And, incidentally, will blast any cyoziworm that shows up with lightning breath," said Nrararn. I suppose he likes animal shapes. He didn't mind being a duck, back in the mirror cave.
"Excellent. I've found you the best subversive group to infiltrate," said Ythac.
"Did I agree to go?" I asked, because I hadn't.
"Didn't you?"
"No."
Ythac reared up and hissed. "If..."
"I was going to, but everyone kept trying to come with me, so I didn't get the words out. Of course I will, Ythac."
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
1779 Morganthaler Street West
|
I have seen prettier cities than Tublier. Greater Naspen (the district) is generally a beautiful place, with its own distinctive architectural style dating back several gross years, all wide arches and big plazas and low domes with oblate stones on the top, pink and sparkly grey brick. Tublier is a new city, though, which grew up from a small town because of the zeppelin business, and such as that. So it's all quick blocky rectangular apartment buildings, hung about with drying laundry on lines on every balcony. I rented Apartment 28J at 1779 Morganthaler Street West, furnished. I paid an extra month's rent in cash, in advance, as a deposit in case my cat took his true form and destroyed the whole miserable building peed on the carpet or brought new insects to join the large and vibrant colony that already lived in the mattress.
"I'm sorry, the furniture isn't in the best shape, it's a bit uncomfortable," said the superintendant apologetically. "I'll bring you a better bed when one frees up, and there's a nice armchair in 21G when that comes open you can have." His lies were rotting fish to my veriception, but I had to ignore them.
"I've slept on worse and not felt it," I said, truthfully. I don't generally like lying — my own lies are no more pleasant to veriception than anyone else's — and I seemed to want to see how truthful I could be and still fool everyone. If I were alone I wouldn't fuss quite so much, but with Nrararn watching I wanted to be punctilious. Or at least look brilliantly clever. For once.
"Well then, it might be two or three days 'til the new one comes, and I hope you can wait," he said, lying. "The last tenant left some food, pasta and olive oil and stuff, you can use that. There's a convenience store in the first floor across the street, too." He showed me the security features, which weren't very, told me that as a special favor (lie) I could use the freight elevator if the people elevators were full or broken (true), and accepted my money (happily).
"Are you actually going to sleep on that bed?" Nrararn asked.
"I don't see why not."
Nrararn, who was a small and very white tomcat distinctly lacking in horns, spikes, rainbows, or lightning braids, leapt onto the bed and lashed it with his hukuchô. A grand of bugs fled or died. He gathered them in a whirlwind and threw them out the window.
"That should do 'til the next generation hatches," I wrote to him. I'm not sure why I was writing rather than talking; good practice perhaps. "But you'd better not do any of that when there are hovens around. Hove's cats generally are more circumspect with their astral sorcery."
"I am merely looking out for your dignity. It would be unseemly if welts were showing under your beautiful yet short hoven fur."
"Really. I don't want to disappoint Ythac. I do owe him."
"Really on my part too." He smelled a bit eager, and it was late in the day, and the bed was clean. So I turned into a cat myself, then back into a hoven to get the olive oil, and thanked Nrararn for whatever. Or just for being Nrararn and putting up with me, which not many people do anymore. He was unusually vigorous and enthusiastic, so we had a long talk afterwards about how he likes being small harmless animals sometimes and I like being small people sometimes and how we shouldn't be quite so embarrassed about that in front of Llredh and Ythac and Arilash and Boruu and Psilia and Kuro and Osoth and all, because their tastes are far more questionable than anything either of us would do. I don't know what Osoth did to get on that list, aside from being a pretty good friend of ours, and I hope I never find out.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
RARU (Day 1128)
|
Ythac had picked out RARU because it was large and particularly careless about new members. "Though nearly a quarter of my subjects are in some sort of anti-dragon society or other, if you're a bit generous with the definition. Far too many to do anything about. And it's growing. I should just make a law that everyone needs to join a seditious organization and leave it at that. A few subjects might choose not to join one because of that law."
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
He was right. Two RARU members were handing out flyers on the corner of Burrer avenue and Twelfth street to anyone who looked (a) hoven and (b) not like a gendarme. My hoven clothing was a very ordinary workaday tunic, blue and slightly stained, and a two-flounced skirt, also blue but not stained, and I wasn't wearing wire hoop insignia, so I got a flyer
|
Are you unhappy with the current administration? Do you disapprove of the actions and the nature of the government? Do you find their actions unfair and inappropriate? Come to a peaceful demonstration at the St.-Larque Government Building an hour after Eclipse!
A pair of gendarmes walked past me as I read it, their hatchets thumping against their leather leggings. The RARU flyers looked nervous, and so I did too. (But my small white cat was brave.) One of the gendarmes frowned, and extorted a flyer. He read it, and showed it to the other. "It is nothing, merely a silly advertisement for some concert or other." The other nodded. "Nothing we should be concerned about." They handed the flyer back to the RARU members, and wished them a pleasant afternoon and a good concert. So much for the loyalty and diligence of Ythac's gendarmes. At least it is clear why RARU is so careless about new members.
The demonstration didn't have the fury of the one that Llredh had broken in Churry City so long ago. The St.-Larque Government Building stands stolidly behind a large semicircular amphitheatre. Someone had hung a banner reading "Dragons out of Trest!" between two third-floor windows of the Government Building. "A printed banner, not just casually painted on a sheet. They have used it before," wrote Nrararn. "A weather-stained banner, at that, used many times."
"Ythac doesn't have a government in Tublier. He's got a rebellion disguised as a city. If not as a province."
RARU didn't quite hand out programs and sell expensive cups of very good fermented watermelon juice, but almost. They did have a table offering knit hats with the letters RARU around the brim, and pamphlets which would have gotten the writers burnt up in Llredh's breath if half what they wrote was true, and biscuits and cookies. I bought a hat and a cookie. "No, you can't have any," I told Nrararn. "If you want to eat cookies, be an omnivorous pet."
"I won't give up my fangs. Unlike some dragons," he answered. So I teased him about the intimacies he's not giving up in that form either, and what I would do to him when I got him back to the apartment. I felt rather like Arilash to talk that way, or at least like an ordinary grownup.
Then the speakers started. The demonstration had an easy rhythm. One person would stand on stage, being introduced in highly enigmatic terms like "Brother Red" or "Magistrate Turquoise" . Many of them wore masks of the appropriate color, presumably so that the gendarmes would have to take the extra quarter-minute's effort to remove the mask when they got arrested. Not that the gendarmes were arresting anyone that day; they seemed quite oblivious to the whole event. The masked speaker would then propose a simple chant, which the audience would try and fail to chant in unison for a few minutes. "North, East, South, West! Dragons must get out of Trest!"
"What does that even mean? If they left one of those out, should we get out of three-quarters of the country?" Nrararn wrote.
"It's a geomantic allusion. A sign of active undeniability, like sweeping all the way around the compass, pushing dragons out of the land," wrote Tarcuna. "If it went 'North, South, East, West', it would indicate completeness and completedness. You really need to be Trestean to pick up this sort of fine point."
I chanted it properly.
"Everyone can tell you're lying," wrote Nrararn, with a smirky spoiled-milk edge to his lie. Which is an ordinary taunt from one dragonet to another.
"They can not. I've got veriception blocks up."
"And they don't have veriception anyway."
"They don't. You, however, have a sense of touch, and can feel pain," I pointed out.
"Torturing your pet cat in the middle of a demonstration will not further your purpose." Nrararn wrote. He sprawled on the pavement in front of me and chewed his hind paw, carefully exposing his traditionally-feline genital region to me.
"Then you should be less obnoxious. Especially if you are hoping to twine me later tonight," I wrote.
"Jyothky? Has our relationship changed considerably since we last discussed the matter?" Arilash wrote back. I had not controlled my the Horizonal Quill right.
"Oh, no. I meant that for Nrararn!" I wrote to her.
"Alas! I would dearly love to twine you later tonight. Or anydragon. Even if I had to be less obnoxious. But I suppose you won't be interested." Arilash wrote back.
"No. I certainly owe you a conversation though. And I deserve every obnoxious for getting that message wrong. I have to get back to Nrararn now though." I wrote to Arilash. Then I wrote the original message to Nrararn.
"Your cat is bored," wrote my cat.
"My cat can go skulking around and eavesdrop on the speakers if he likes," I said. Nrararn was off in a flash.
"Oh, no! Your cat got away!" said an old woman chanting next to me.
"He does that a lot. He'll be back in a few minutes, I'm sure," I said, truthfully but just barely.
So we chatted good things about cats and bad things about dragons. Then, "Oh, dear, I'm up next," she said.
"You're a speaker?"
"Of course not, dearie. The speakers are just colors," she said. She fished in her purse and found a knitted purple mask. "Back in a few moments. I hope your cat returns first."
I found Granny Purple one of the better speakers, perhaps due to my cat being otherwise occupied and me actually listening to what she had to say. "I was a history teacher at St.-Vurne Grammar School for forty-two years. I know our federation's history fairly well. We have conquered every enemy: second-most of all our distrust and hatred of each other, when we were many nations. Most of all, though, our own self-interest. When each of us worried about his own little duchy or barony, we were weak and warful. When we abandoned those things, we became mighty. The dragons are a sort of enemy more terrible than any we have ever faced. But the same weapons will bring us victory. Not mighty twistor cannons, but the spirits of unity and sacrifice. I defy every dragon. I will lay down my life to oppose them and render their stay here undesirable and noxious. If I were younger, I would go and apply for a job at Ythac's palace in Perstra, so that I could spill his soup on his disgusting claws and pour bitters in his drinking water. He may have us at a disadvantage, he may have his entire scaly weight on our neck, but he shall not get what he desires from us!"
Her chant was awful, though. "Every monster must go back! Leave, Lareth! Leave, Ythac!" I chanted Llredh's name properly the first few times, but nobody else was pronouncing it right. Their dialect doesn't have the right sounds.
Granny Purple, unmasked, got back before Nrararn. "Very nice speech," I told her.
"Why, I do try to pay attention whenever Granny Purple speaks," Granny Purple corrected. "She used to teach, and she seems to have the voice and manner for it. I am Versley, by the way."
"A pleasure to meet a fellow admirer of Granny Purple, Versley. I'm Jyothky Meragathium," I said, slurring my name a bit.
"A pleasure to meet you as well, Joffee," she said. She didn't seem to catch my family name at all, which is just as well."
"Might you know where I could go to get a bit more involved in RARU?", I asked. "I'd like to contribute something to the movement, but I don't know how to begin."
"I'm sure I don't know," said Versley. "I've never been to a RARU event before." Lies, of course, but with the cheese-like aspect that indicates a lie shading into a fiction that should be mutually understood. "There are two speakers more. After them, may I treat you to hot tea in a café? Who knows, we might encounter actual RARU members there. It is said that they are about. If your cat is back, of course."
"Nrararn, get your white fluffy tail back here!" I wrote, and explained why. In a moment he was sniffing around Versley's ankles. "You're smelling with your nose?"
"If you smell with your tongue, you look very strange as a hoven or a cat," he pointed out.
"I'll be careful. I am careful." Which is approximately true, isn't it?
The next speaker, Rev. Taupe, mostly proclaimed a stream of religious nonsense about the origin, motives, and powers of dragons. One thing did catch my attention, though. "When the dragons say that one of us is infested by a cyoziworm, when they take them away to those dreadful camps — why do you suppose they do that? Well, I've got some statistics for you. Eighty per cent of the camp victims have opposed the dragons in public, and some of them a lot more incautiously than RARU. Eighty percent. They're not quarantine camps for some imaginary infection. They're camps for political punishment. Well, I have this to say to the dragons. You can't stick us all in your camps! We're too many! We'll break down the walls of the camps, and we'll all go free! All Trest will be free!" Every word of that was true, too. Rather, he believed it all, though he was wrong.
"Well, what do you expect?" wrote Tarcuna. "The wormridden know that the dragons know about them, and are trying to eradicate them. They don't have a lot of choice: they have to push back, or run away, or something. Their worms won't let them just hope the dragons go away."
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Café Du Treme
|
Versley paid for a table and a pot of tea. (Restaurants here seem to charge for space, not just food. I don't know why.) After a moment, a dignified man with a scale pendant on his flat-cap asked if he could join us.
"That's Magistrate Turquoise," my cat wrote.
"Certainly, Sporthen," said Versley. "Do you know this young woman, Joffee? She's got a very pleasing hat."
"I certainly must admire it!" he said. "A pleasure to meet you, Joffee."
"And you as well, Sporthen."
"She's interested in more than just wearing that hat," said Versley.
"Wearing hats never changed anything," said Sporthen. "Except for the dryness and stylishness of one's hair. Perhaps you could tell me a bit about yourself, Joffee?"
"Well, I was in Dorday for some while, not that long ago. I saw the first dragon there. It blasted a fighter plane, you know. I saw it explode. Three soldiers, killed, and not a bit of mercy or even concern from the beast," said the beast in question, quite truthfully, and with more than a hint of concern and even displeasure for the incident in its voice. Of all the hovens I've killed, I regret them second-most, unless I'm forgetting someone, which I probably am. (The most being the cook that I dropped a wall on in Ze Cheya.)
"A terrible incident."
"We've all seen the torture of Shuvanne, and the destruction of the Stone of Merraro, and all of that, on television. But when you see the dragons killing and destroying so casually with your own eyes, you begin to realize what wicked monsters they are," I said. I remembered to say "they".
"Wait. Jyothky, was that true?" asked Nrararn.
"Yes, if you take that 'begin' seriously. It took me a while."
"I'm not a wicked monster!"
"You're a very nice monster. We'll discuss this more later. I need to be a very insidious monster and trick some hovens now."
We chatted for a while. I think the closest I got to an actual lie was, when Versley asked me what I was doing in Tublier, I said, "I don't have a regular job at the moment. The tourist industry in Dorday is in the midden. Tublier ought to be better; it can't be worse at least. I've got some savings, enough for a while. And Ythac is paying a dole to people who've lost their jobs. It doesn't make me any more grateful to him, mind you." Still all true, but anything you might infer from it is wrong.
After a certain amount of interrogation, Sporthen said, "I wonder if you might excuse us for a moment, Joffee."
"Actually, if you could watch my cat for a moment... where's the toilet?"
"Of course. It's over there, under that sign that says 'toilet'."
So I plopped my very nice monster fiancé cat in Versley's lap to spy on her while I took an unnecessary and smelly private moment. Nrararn got very much the better part of the arrangement.
"They're saying that you seem like a straightforward and motivated young lady, and if you were a spy they'd probably be arrested already," he reported. "Also three-quarters of the gendarmes in Tublier are in sympathy with RARU in any case, and dragons never come here."
"Pity they're wrong. I'm sure this will end with them in the flames," I said, because I really am a wicked monster who destroys hoven lives by the grand and plots to take their world from them, even if I try to be nice about it. I turned a finger into a claw and scratched a warning to Tublier about myself in the mirror. Only I wrote it in Petty Draconic, meaning that only Tarcuna of all the hovens on Hove would have a hope of reading it. In retrospect, this makes no sense whatever — Nrararn is standing on my head and reading this and making cute feline incomprehension noises. My only defense is that, at the time, it made no sense whatever either.
When I got back to the table, Versley smiled. "Well, Joffee. I'm holding a small party of sorts at my apartment tomorrow evening. Hot chocolate and cookies, nothing terribly fancy. Sporthen will be there, and a few of our other friends, some of whom also have very fashionable hats. Would you like to attend?"
"Oh, that would be wonderful! I have so few friends in Tublier so far!" I exclaimed.
They smiled and nodded, glad that I had figured out how to speak their language of light evasion. I smiled back, having penetrated their quite haphazard security.
"Well, they are rather the casual end of the spectrum," Ythac wrote. "At the other extreme is Quarters, which is your friend Branner's organization. Eight members only, and they've known each other for years in the army. They're trying to build a big twistor beam without my noticing it."
"They haven't been that careful."
"Pretty careful! But I do cast finding spells for the most dangerous threat in Trest to me, which is them."
"Why don't you kill them?" I asked, because that is how monsters think.
"There will always be a most dangerous threat. If I kill them and cast the spell again, it will get the previously second most dangerous threat. If I thought they were actually dangerous, I would do something. If they get anywhere on their gun, I will do something," he wrote back. "Besides, my the Hoplonton is the best on Hove. Family specialty."
"I don't want you to get hurt, Ythac. Even with the new imports, I am low on friends."
"I will not get hurt, I promise. But I won't not get hurt by killing every hoven I can. That couldn't possibly end well. Besides, Jyothky, how many hoven lives is one dragon's life worth?"
"That's a horrible question. We live at least, oh, a dozen grand years, with astral magic. I don't think anyone has died of old age since we got it, have they?"
"Not that I've heard either."
"So, um, we live a dozen grand years, say, and they live a gross of years, say, to make the math easy. By that, say a gross of hoven lives equals one dragon. I don't think that calculus makes any sense, but it's a number for you, anyway," I wrote.
"If you can't make sense, at least make nonsense, I guess. So if a gross of hoven lives is worth mine, that's about how many I get to kill to protect myself. I shouldn't go killing eight just now just because I know they're trying to kill me. I'd use up nearly my first grand's allowance of murders before I got to a gross of years," I wrote.
"You're about to make my head fall off with that kind of mathematics."
"I just don't want to kill anyone unless there's some good reason. I refuse to be the tyrant they're painting me! Besides, if I'm decent at them for long enough, they'll figure out that I am, and then things should be easier."
"Not this year, Ythac."
"Not this generation, I think. I've got time. Though I do want to do what I can to speed it along and keep the misery down along the way."
He's a monster too. A kindhearted ruiner of countries and destroyer of lives, like me. A good bit better about actual murder, though.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Seditious Chocolaterie (Day 1129)
|
"Tarcuna, what are the manners that go with a party at someone's apartment?"
"The ordinary sort of party, or the sort I might have gotten hired for?"
It is hard to glare at someone over The Horizonal Quill. "Tarcuna, be helpful. This is a small social party for RARU recruiting. Do you really think there will be whores there? Much less that I'd be treated as one?"
"I hope you're not treated as one, you'd be utterly incompetent at it and you wouldn't get paid. As for the other guests, I don't know. You introduced yourself as a jobless and not very rich young woman without obvious family or other means of support. You could be looking for a position, as far as they know."
"Do you think that's what they're after?"
"No. But if you were one of my college friends going into that sort of situation, I'd definitely have you think about it. I got wormed doing something not too much different."
"Tarcuna, you are my most annoying minion. Are there any particular manners that I should pay attention to?"
"I'm also your least annoying minion. Bring some cookies or something like that, but not the best cookies because it's not polite to bring better than the hostess. Start off by admiring the apartment and its furnishings. I've never actually been to a seditious chocolaterie, but I suspect you should let the hostess bring up treasonous matters first."
So I took my exceedingly dangerous cat to the convenience store across the street. It's a quarter of the ground floor of 1778 Morganthaler Street West. It is also a dense little maze of packages of foodstuffs, housewares, tools, magazines, beers, contraceptives, spare clothing, and all the sorts of things that sophisticated yet disorganized and poor hovens might want to buy at any hour of the night. I bought a box of Sendile's Pentagonal Biscuits, chocolate flavor, which Tarcuna said wouldn't be any sort of a culinary challenge, but at least would be edible. Nrararn persuaded me that he would not wear a leash in any case.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Chocolate and Conspiracy
|
Versley's apartment is older than mine. The building is in rather worse shape; concrete was flaking off the front of it, and the staircase was so structurally unsound that I had to remind myself I weighed far less than a ton in this shape or I wouldn't have dared step on it. Her front door is thin metal over thin wood, painted grey, and rather scratched and battered.
Inside the apartment, though, is a whole universe of pretty. The walls were covered with thin quilts for tapestries, cloth prints of flowers cut into squares and triangles and sewn together. Every window had plants in front of it in big ceramic window boxes: some blooming, some resting, and some, in the kitchen, being culinary herbs, I think. That was all easy to admire, so I did. The furniture was old and a bit threadbare but well-padded. The tablecloth was white edged with a curl of blue, but I couldn't see much of it, because the table was covered with a mighty array of tarts, cookies, silver pots of burbling water kept boiling over alcohol flames, ceramic pots of hot chocolate not being boiled, cups, saucers, cheeses, and, a few minutes later, one dismal looking box of Sendile's Pentagonal Biscuits hiding in the corner and hoping to be overlooked.
"Ah, you brought your cat. What's her name?" said Versley.
"You can call him Narr, but I don't think he'll answer to that," I said, which was the best I could do and not give up on always telling the truth.
Versley presented a hand to Nrararn to sniff, which he did, and then petted his head. "Blique is somewhere around, probably hiding under a bed. She doesn't answer to her name either. Blique! Come here this instant and meet a new friend!" She poured a bit of chocolate in two saucers and set them on the floor. "Oh! Where are my manners, tending to the cats before I tend to the people? Joffee, this is Dulac, and the gentleman on the couch is Quarri." So I was polite and rather shy at Dulac (tall, blueish, striped, well-dressed, very nervous) and Quarri (tall, purple and somewhat unfortunately spotted, working-class clothing like mine, and supremely confident in himself.)
"Well, first of all, what is your interest in RARU?" asked Versley, as she grated nutmeg over her own saucer of chocolate, and poured it elegantly back into the cup.
"I was in the army. 518th Maintenance Crew. Right there at Quenjo Wastes, in Depot 18. Saw my friends and commanding officers burnt up. Saw planes get blasted. Got chased around by a skeleton 'til my buddy crushed it with a D-wrench. Unit got disbanded a couple months later. Came back home. Things are pretty hopeless," Quarri said. He was indifferently truthful. "I was in Methu in the army. Methu's not a going concern now. So I wanted to see what RARU is up to."
"I was in Dorday when Spotty was," I said. "I saw her explode planes and kill people. I also saw the five dragons strolling around the city pretending they belonged there, keeping all the tourists away."
Dulac shrugged. "I have never seen a dragon in person. They have not come to Tublier, or anywhere close, after all. But my cousin Elrique in Churry City was taken away into a punishment camp last month. He wrote me a long letter. He is innocent. He is not even accused of any sort of crime. He does not even know what he did. He protested at Churry City, as did thousands of others; he fled when Leredh and the Black Curse came to kill. He supposes that he was taken as an example. They say he is possessed by a horrible monster, but he is my cousin. I would know if he was possessed." Fairly truthful, until the last sentence.
"Had he changed his behavior or habits a lot lately?" I asked.
"Certainly. In the punishment camp, he can no longer see his wife or daughter, for one thing," said Dulac dully.
Versley sipped her chocolate. "People get taken to the punishment camps for any reason, or no reason at all. I do not know if you have heard this, Joffee. Every two or three days, Ythac's gendarmes will issue a list of sixty names, or thirty. Those people will be hunted down and taken to the camps. There is no real rhyme or reason for it. Often they are notable protestors. Just as often, they are nobody in particular. RARU has helped save fifty or sixty from the camps and spirit them out of the country, but that is all. Hundreds have gone in. Some have died, but none has come out."
I nodded quietly. "I think they are quarantined for cyoziworms. I have seen the exhibits Prof. Wulpmegarn produced, showing a normal person and an infested one. I saw the movies of Dr. Grauzeng's surgery, with the live worm struggling in Bthera's breast, and dying."
"You might want to stop arguing about now," Nrararn scribbled to me. "Everyone is glaring at you."
"Well, I say that Wulpmegarn is a cunya trying to get the favor of the dragons by telling whatever story they want told, and Grauzeng was a cunya and we are better off without her, and Bthera was a whore who could be hired to do any thing or to say any thing," said Versley. "Besides, even if the worms were real, how could Ythac decide that Elrique, say, is infested? He has not even seen Elrique!"
"Well, Wulpmegarn certainly got carried by a dragon once or twice, so he's certainly a friend of theirs. And he's doing what they want," I said, because it's true and it sounds like it's being agreeable even if it's not quite. "And I'm sorry about your cousin, Dulac. Whatever the reason, or if there's no reason at all, it's an awful thing."
Dulac nodded glumly. "It is my grief. And my fear, that I might join him."
Quarri laughed. "And what is RARU doing about the camps?"
"We are trying to exert pressure on the contractors who build them, and to interfere with the construction" said Versley. "With some success. The Tublier-North camp is now three months behind schedule. The razor wire plant seems to have thoroughly bollixed up their order, so it may be delayed further. You cannot be imprisoned if there are no prisons to throw you in, Dulac.
Quarri laughed. "Fighting defensively, are you?"
"We oppose the invaders in a variety of ways."
"We hit Ythac with a mortar shell while he was asleep two months ago," said Quarri.
"And you're still alive?" I asked, astounded. (I wasn't worried about Ythac — I'd seen him just the other day.)
"That's we, Methu. I only had a little bit to do with that operation," he said. His lie had the rotten-chocolate edge that indicates bragging.
"And Methu got massacred for that. Massacred. Leredh burned up a hundred homes — the heart of Methu, and all their families," said Versley, setting down her chocolate cup on the quilted arm of her chair.
"I barely escaped with my life!" exclaimed Quarri. His lie was rotten chocolate with a sandy mold over it.
"Good for you. Many were not so lucky. Do you think that another round of mortars will do the job?" asked Versley.
"I dunno. Maybe a lucky shot to the head or something," said Quarri.
"Luck does not favor us very often these days," said Versley. "Even if that worked, we would still have Leredh to face. Do you think he would spare any city in Trest if we killed his buggard?"
"Besides, we hit the grey one with a warplane and didn't hurt it much. What's a little mortar round going to do?" asked Dulac.
Quarri stood up. "That 'little mortar round' you are speaking of is really a Mozarde 3A. 340-millimeter caliber! Nothing in the world is going to ignore that!"
"It doesn't sound like Ythac and Llredh ignored it," I said. "But it didn't kill them, and didn't even seem to hurt them."
Versley nodded grimly, "Exactly. Military means have failed."
"Old woman, you don't know what you're talking about," said Quarri.
Versley stood up angrily. "Young man, I..." She knocked her cup off the arm of her chair, so I caught it. "Oh, thank you, Joffee. We 'old women' can be clumsy at times. Quarri, if we had an military option that seemed the least bit effective, we would be more than happy to use it. Hove seems to have just one weapon that can kill dragons. And Trest is currently deprived of twistor cannons. Pinning our hopes on somehow being able to kill one more dragon, much less all of them, is not a good strategy. We must do something useful in the meantime."
"But the Limp Rebellion is so, so, un-virile," whined Quarri.
"If I had a virility, I shouldn't waste it on the dragons. I daresay they would enjoy it," said Versley. "If you want to die in glorious battle, and take your family and friends with you, you can go to some other resistance group. RARU will make a statue of you after we regain Trest."
"It's just cowardly, that's all," said Quarri.
"Limp Rebellion? I'm new to the resistance," I said. "I haven't heard of it before."
Versley handed me a pamphlet. "It's all in here. Simply, we don't advocate letting the dragons rule Trest. We don't do what they tell us. They may have formally conquered the government, but they haven't conquered the country. There's never been a dragon in Tublier..."
"The black one flew over here, before the conquest." I pointed out, because I had done.
"It didn't land, and it certainly didn't conquer us. So on the whole, we're simply going to go about our lives and ignore the dragons, as much as we can."
"Which doesn't do very well when they throw your cousin into a punishment camp," said Dulac.
"If the gendarmes of Churry City ignored the dragons, if the contractors there refused to build for the dragons, your cousin would not be in the camp," Versley proclaimed.
I opened the pamphlet. "What happens when Llredh is towering over you, telling you to arrest everyone left in the square in Churry City, or he will burn you to ashes?"
Versley smiled. "Now there is your chance to be as brave and virile as Quarri likes, or more subtle. If you turn to the page 5, you will see a little table, with levels of resistance. You could simply spit in his eye. You will probably die for that. That's the top level, the purple level, and we don't have very many people up there. Most of us are at the green level, two bands down. We'd only obey a direct order, and we'd be as reluctant and do as bad a job as we could manage. The blue level is between those: we'd not do anything that hurt another hoven. I'm sworn at the blue level. I don't expect it to matter, the difference between blue and green, but for the chief of gendarmes it certainly would."
I looked at the table, which was a rather technical bit of sedition. "It's a bit intimidating. Even the lower levels are making a promise to irritate dragons."
"Do you expect to free Trest without getting the oppressors a wee bit ticked off?" asked Dulac.
"I don't. I don't expect to free Trest without getting clawed or bitten, for that matter. I can still be intimidated, can't I?" I said.
"You don't need to swear to it now. But take the pamphlet home and read it. Every RARU member has sworn something, even just the red level."
RED: I, __, swear that I will not provide direct comfort or assistance to the dragons or their cunyas, save under coercion; and after the coercion is finished I will immediately denounce my coerced actions to RARU.
"I would like to wait a bit, and read it carefully," I said. "It's a big step, pledging emnity to dragons." Or, in my case, I'm not sure I could eat and follow that oath, much less behave properly towards my fiancés, or Tarcuna, or Ythac.
"It doesn't bother me a bit," said Dulac, and recited the blue-level oath, and meant it.
"I am no coward!" said Quarri, lying, and recited the purple-level oath, lying.
Versley glanced at me curiously. I had my nose in the pamphlet, trying to figure out some interpretation or minor change so that I could take it and not be forsworn. "Well, let me tell you about a few of our programs and such in Tublier." Which she did. Half of them are resistance things, like keeping the cyozi-camp from being built and making sure that most of the gendarmes are sworn to as high a level as possible. The other half seemed unrelated to dragons. I'm not sure what, if anything, the dam on the Tublier river has to do with us. Ythac doesn't either; he didn't even know there was a dam there.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Coda
|
"They hate us. They hate us for some understandable reasons, like conquest. They hate us for some terrible reasons, like we're trying to get rid of an actual horrible menace and they don't believe it's real. They'll be perfectly reasonable if that suits their purposes, and perfectly unreasonable if that does. They are determined that everything dragons do is evil and wicked," I told everyone, as a conclusion to my report.
"Sounds about right. Thanks for telling me about the colors. That explains several things," said Ythac.
"You hadn't found out about them?"
"Information magic is excellent for finding the answers to your questions. It is not always so good for finding the best questions to ask. I had heard 'so-and-so is purple' before, but thought it was about fur color."
"The helpful plan, is she in your claws yet?" asked Llredh.
"No. I can't imagine that this generation is going to feel properly conquered, much less happily conquered."
"Keep looking, if you please," wrote Ythac. "I wanted to be much better than the previous government. I don't think I'm even managing to be better than nothing."
"I will. I may need to go somewhere else, though. I can't take any of those oaths for RARU, or not mean them anyhow."
"You could investigate them in animal form too!" said Nrararn.
"Just as useful, probably."
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Persuasions (Day 1130)
|
I spent most of the day being a tourist in Tublier. Tublier with an ignorant white cat for providing local color is not as much fun as Dorday with an expert native guide for local color, but we managed. The Alberhominie Civic Museum provided us with much more entertainment than we had expected of it, in the form of a special exhibition on zeppelins. Nrararn did have to turn into a hoven to come in; they don't allow pets. Everyone thought we were twins. Next time I shall have to tell him to look like some other no-hoven-in-particular.
"Sorry, miss, but the armchair in 21G needs to be refinished," lied the superintendent as I walked in.
"No hurry," I didn't lie.
"Oh, and there's a note for you called in," he said. "Sounds like you might be dating someone important soon, if you play your cards right."
"You are dating someone important," wrote my small white cat.
"Really? Csirnis will barely talk to me anymore," I wrote back, to annoy him.
"Miss, oh heavens! I'll get you a bandage straightaway!" said the superintendent, and rummaged in his desk drawers. "But you should get rid of that cat, if he bites so much."
"No, this is quite unusual for him." (Usually he breathes lightning.) I bandaged my cat-bite, renewed the Hoplonton on both of us. "Wait until we're in private to bite me!"
"And here's your message, miss," said the superintendent, after I was bandaged. "You should tell him your room number. We've got three Joffees living here. I had to make him tell me fur color, and lucky we don't have another dark grey or you might be missing a date."
Sporthen wanted to meet me for a discussion at the Laich Street Café in midafternoon.
"You think it's a date?" I asked the superintendent.
"Young woman new in town, older important man? How badly do you need work?"
"Not that badly, yet," I said. In part because my cat was glaring at me. I scooped him up and went back to my apartment, to tend my wounds properly (the Arcane Anodyne, though nearly anything would have worked), and to scold him properly (a Caramelle in the bathtub, with both of us as small as possible, which he won by one touch.)
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Not a Date
|
"I'm very sorry if I kept you waiting," I told Sporthen, when the waiter in the red flannel hat took me to his table.
"Hardly a concern these days," he said, setting aside a bowl of cream-of-oyster soup. "Government business does not proceed with breakneck speed under the dragons. An hour or two off in the afternoon to tend to other important matters is not a matter worth troubling over. And if it is delayed, what then? The legal problems concerning the Tublier-North punishment camp may not be resolved for a bit longer. Certain contractors may spend an afternoon cooling their hooves in a lobby. Fortunately the dragons pay them by the day, not by the project, so complaints are few. Such things happen now and then, under the dragons. Do you not approve?"
I just laughed. "RARU is quite clever." I don't actually approve of hovens cheating my best friend in order to delay quarantining a very unpleasant menace away.
He smiled, and indicated a red-cushioned chair. "We do our best. Please, sit, choose a mid-afternoon snack if you wish, as my treat." He looked a bit more closely, and grinned. "Does your cat need anything?"
"Tell him to perform our marriage straightaway!" said my cat, hopping into another chair and curling up.
"My cat will be ridiculously demanding given the slightest encouragement. So let's not, just yet." I ordered a smoked fish omelette, with sour sauce and a mug of cocoa.
"Very well. You bring your cat everywhere?"
"He's very well behaved, with one or two notable exceptions," I said. "And we're on duty now, so no exceptions please."
"I am very helpful! If he attacks you, I will kill him!" Nrararn answered.
"I think I can defend myself against one unarmed hoven."
"Well, if a grand of warriors with mystic lances leap out of the woodwork, I'll be invaluable. For one example. Not that the hovens are able to make mystic lances."
I petted Nrararn, and smiled at Sporthen. "What did you want to talk about today?"
"Simply this: you wished to join RARU. We would happily accept you — as we would any true-spirited Trestean, make no mistake. But all of our members have sworn a promise to oppose the dragons. So, we were wondering if you would like any further discussion or information that might make you more comfortable joining us."
"He's asking us to spy on him!" wrote Nrararn.
"Well, yes, I do have a few. The biggest one is, what sort of chances does RARU have?"
Sporthen scooped soup. "I wish I could answer that with complete confidence. Of course, we do not know. But it seems the best approach. Violence has not been particularly successful, and shows no great promise for the future. Ordinarily, if we disliked our rulers, we would elect new consuls to replace them. That was well on its way to working to remove Shuvanne. The dragons seem unlikely to care. What else might work? Grovelling and pleading?"
"You make a strong case that it is the best way. But do you think it will work?"
"I have more hope than some in RARU! Consider this: the dragons seem to mix the personal and the political. RARU's official publications say that the dragons are anti-consular, that they particularly hate our system of government. I do not think so. They have not dismantled it; they have simply plopped themselves on top of it. They seem to care more about each other than they do at all about us. They might simply fly away in frustration, if sufficiently frustrated."
"Or they might burn up a few cities on the way. Llredh is not the most peaceful of dragons," I noted.
Sporthen clinked his spoon on his bowl twice. "Definitely a risk. I fear that it will happen regardless; they seem always on the edge of a massacre. We might as well get something for our burned-up cities. Let me turn the question around: would you rather live under the invaders' rule, or die removing them? Or — suppose they kill ten thousand of us before they go, but there are a billion. Would you accept, what is that, odds of a hundred thousand to one in your favor? Which is what we are actually asking of you."
"Those are certainly good odds of surviving," I said.
"Phrased in those terms, fear of death in rebellion seems simply ridiculous. The chance that you even see a dragon is not that great, unless you travel to Perstra in person," he said.
"I've seen them in Dorday," I said.
"Does that intimidate you?" he asked.
"I think the Quenjo Wastes battle was a bit more intimidating," I said, after a bit of a pause to think of something true.
"Also an unusual situation," he said. "And here, I believe, is your omelette."
The presentation of the omelette was less than perfect. The waiter tripped on nothing in particular, and sent omelette, sour sauce, cocoa, and their suitable condiments showering towards my lap. So I caught the tray in one hand and set the sauce and cocoa upright with the other, before they were completely turned over.
The waitress curtsied, "Very sorry, miss. Nothing lost, I hope?" She smelled rather nervous, probably because half the restaurant was staring at us.
I looked at the tray. "Not much. The cocoa sloshed a bit."
"I'll bring you another cup straightaway," she said.
"Just into the saucer." I poured it back into the cup. "No harm done." She headed back to the kitchen anyway.
Sporthen nodded. "You're quick."
"Well, yes."
"Did you have any sort of special training?" he asked.
Which took a bit of thought. "Nothing in particular," I said, since most dragons had at least the training I did, and mostly more.
"I see... what did you say your last name was?"
"Meragathium. Spelled how it sounds," I said.
"Joffinet Meragathium. How is your omelette?"
I tasted it. "Delicious with sour sauce. Better being eaten than worn!"
He grinned, and ate more soup. "I am told that you have unusual opinions about the punishment camps and the reality of cyoziworms."
"Not so unusual among people who have seen the horrible things," I said.
He looked interested. "Ah, you have seen them? Most of us regard them as a trick: an imaginary enemy for us to fear, to lure us into accepting the dragons as the lesser of two evils, and accepting the punishment camps. What did you see?"
"I was in the operating theatre when Spotty and Dr. Grauzeng removed the worm from Bthera. I saw it myself." I described it as best I could.
"I see," he said. "And the camps?"
"As far as I know, they are just what the dragons say they are. Dragons have few virtues in hoven terms, but they are not liars. I do think you shouldn't get distracted by the worms or the camps though."
"There is something to your point of view," he said, and changed the conversation to non-seditious topics some while.
"Well, that was useless," I wrote to Nrararn.
"Next time, tell Ythac to find a group that doesn't have an entrance vow," he answered.
"Tomorrow, or the day after. I want to finish seeing Tublier while we're here," I replied.
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Night Visit (Day 1131 or 1132 depending on how one counts)
|
I have been sleeping on the kitchen floor, because the bed smells nasty and has a disgusting lluyew, even after Nrararn chased all the insects off of it. The kitchen floor was easy to scrub, being made of tiles. It was also probably horribly uncomfortable for a hoven, but you know my opinion of discomfort. Nrararn was sleeping on top of me, which he found comfortable and both of us found friendly.
Of course we both woke up instantly — OK, Nrararn a bit more instantly than me — from the danger roaring at the door. A loud and grumbly sort of roar; it could kill us or hurt us badly, in our soft shapes. We shrugged at each other, and I put the Hoplonton around us both, and the Ulthana's Targe. With that protection the roar quieted down to a grumbly mumble.
By that time, the danger had gotten out a jangly set of keys and opened the door. We looked, and saw a pack of intruders. Some were harmless: the superintendent, Quarri, Sporthen, two other judicial-looking hovens that I did not know. The danger was three others: Branner and two other hovens. They looked plenty dangerous. Each one held a quite large twistor bazooka, such as one might use to rip a tank into bits if one liked weapons. The weapons were the loudest danger, but the three warriors themselves were only a bit softer.
"Good evening," I said to them.
"You're still up and dressed at this hour?" asked the superintendent.
"I am," I said, because I was. "You are too," I said, because he was too.
"A few questions had arisen about your recent application to RARU," said Sporthen. "May we come in?"
"To save you the inconvenience of firing twistor cannons through the walls? Certainly, come in," I said. They did. "I'm sorry that I can't offer you all seats. The superintendent hasn't been rushed about getting furniture." The superintendent scowled at me.
Sporthen put a professional tone in his voice. "We have noticed certain inconsistencies and peculiarities in your stories. We would like to entertain the possibility that you are guilty of nothing worse than an entirely understandable cowardice and confusion of communication."
I grinned. "And waking a girl up in the middle of the night by breaking into her apartment is the best way to figure that out?"
"You don't seem to have gone to bed yet," he said. "Were you alerted somehow?"
"No, I was sleeping in my clothes, and my cat woke me up from your noise," I said.
One of the other judicial people, who had been looking around my apartment, said, "Your bed hasn't been slept in."
"I don't like the way it smells," I said, getting another frown from the superintendent. "Does my habit of sleeping on the floor in my clothes render me unfit for RARU? Of the sort that needs three augmented soldiers to deal with?" The three of them smirked.
Sporthen shook his head seriously. "Not that. Not to put too fine a point on it, Joffinet, but there are serious questions about whether you are what you say you are. We wonder that you might be a spy or an agent provocateur, a traitor to your species and your nation."
I had to laugh. "I'm certainly not a traitor to my species or my nation."
Nobody else laughed, except Nrararn who did it quietly. Sporthen said, "In which case you have nothing to fear, and your application to RARU will be approved. In the meantime, we wish to investigate certain matters."
"What, then?" I asked.
"First of all, there is the matter of your identity. It is impossible to live in Trest for any length of time without leaving certain administrative traces. There are databases of religious affiliation, voting records, addresses, tax payment, and many other things. Going further back, there are educational records, confirmations, parentage, and so on. An exhaustive search of these finds not a single mention of one Joffinet Meragathium or any reasonable variant thereof. Joffinet is of course one of the most common personal names; Meragathium seems to be invented of whole cloth."
I asked "Nobody ever approaches a revolutionary organization using a false name?" "Nrararn, remind me to ask Tarcuna about those records before next time."
"It is not unheard-of. It does not make a strong basis for an application, however," he said.
"And you bring warriors and cannons to deal with the people you reject?" I asked.
"In general we simply avoid the matter. In your case, though, there are suggestions of exacerbating circumstances. You told Quarri quite distinctly that you saw the movies of the cyoziworm surgery, but you told me just as distinctly that you saw the event itself. An inconsistency — not criminal in itself, but one which indicates a more general falsity of your story. In any case, you seem quite sure that cyoziworms are real, and that the punishment camps are intended to contain them. One is moved to wonder that you might be an agent of the dragons sent to RARU to break our unity of spirit."
I smiled. "I'm definitely not that!"
"Again, I look forward to your proof that you are not. I will make a sincere apology when that happens. Unlike the draconic propensity to kill people or toss them into punishment camps on a whim, we uphold Trest's legal traditions as best we can."
"Right. What else?" I couldn't think of anything clever to say.
"The most worrisome part of the story is your speed of reaction. You caught an upset cup of cocoa before it could fall in Versley's apartment, which is so extraordinary that Quarri took note. I had the waiter at the Laich Street Café drop a tray, and got to witness your extraordinary speed myself."
"I am faster than most hovens." Physically. Not so fast of mind. Not only had I given myself away, I hadn't even realized it 'til he told me.
"Branner, could you do that? Catch a falling restaurant tray in one hand and right two things on it, without spilling much, as has been described?"
Branner grinned. "No problem."
"Could you before you were augmented?"
Branner snorted. "No. Don't be silly. No person would have much of a chance at it without augmentation. Not as you described the scene before."
"Plus, there are such minor matters as your extraordinary quantity of money given your backstory, and your persistent use of the word 'hovens' rather than simply 'people'. We are thus forced to consider the extremely disturbing case in which you are an augmented agent in the service of the dragons."
"I'm certainly not that," I said, because it was true.
"Your claim is noted. We are, sadly, unable to have a full trial with proper witnesses. Especially since you seem to have no history in Dorday, and hence no witnesses for us to call. So, would you submit to an injection of truth drugs? The alternative of course is up to these military gentlemen." The warriors grinned dangerously. They rarely got to fight their own kind.
Nrararn made the decision for me. He rather elegantly breathed a bolt of lightning that forked in three and ruined all the twistor bazookas. The room became much safer.
"Nice! Can I marry you?" I asked him.
"Please do!"
Branner evidently had a different opinion. "Monster!" he shouted, and dived at Nrararn as fast as an augmented agent could, reaching to strangle the cat or break his neck. Nrararn turned back into his usual pretty self, but sized to fit in the apartment. Branner wrapped his arms around Nrararn's azure neck. Then he howled as Nrararn's lightning-braided mane destroyed his hands.
"A dragon! The cat was a dragon somehow!" wailed Quarri, and turned to flee. I was rather annoyed at him, and put the Lure of Dreams into him. The superintendent and one of the soldiers started tending to Branner.
Sporthen stared, shaking. "I was more correct than I ever imagined."
I glared at him, and yelled, "You are more wrong than you ever imagined!"
He glared at me, and said in a cold dignified tone, "How much more of a spy could you be, than to bring a dragon to our meetings in person?"
So I turned back into myself too, sized to fit the apartment. "I actually brought two dragons."
"The Black Curse!" wailed one of the magistrates, and also turned to flee. I don't much like that nickname, so I put the Lure of Dreams into him as well. Bad dreams, too.
I smiled the wicked draconic smile. "Since you have been so kind as to come a-calling, you simply must stay and enjoy our hospitality."
"Rather rude guests," said Nrararn, in much the same tone. He stank of rage, though less than me. "One should never hug a cat without asking his permission. One never knows just how dangerous the cat might be."
The two unhurt soldiers started smelling brave and growling more dangerously, preparing to jump on one of us. "I get the one near me," I wrote, and tried to knock him down with my tail. He dodged that, being augmented, so I feinted a bite at him and drove him a step sideways while he shot at me with a handgun, to a very convenient spot for my forepaw. His ribs crunched in a very interesting way, since they were part metal. A loud report shook the room; Nrararn had destroyed the other soldier's leg with lightning.
The remaining hovens stared at their ruined augmented soldiers. "Anyone fancy a spot of healing?" I asked. "Branner, I do believe I saved your life before, more or less. Shall I do it again?"
"Actually, I could use a bit myself," said Nrararn. His soldier had stabbed his flank three times with a knife, hard enough to draw a bit of blood. "So could you; you've got three bullet wounds." Nothing terribly serious, but I healed both of us. The soldiers were bleeding and demolished. I didn't want them to escape their punishment so easily, so I put healing spells into them too, and then made them sleep.
The other hovens had made some attempt to run away. Nrararn blocked the door. "Jyothky, will you be wanting these hovens too?"
"Well, yes, thank you very much. I should be glad to uphold Trest's laws onto them. The draciarchic laws."
Sporthen explained, "We did not know you were dragons! We thought you were an augmented agent! We didn't know that you even could turn into a person!" Which was irrelevant and insultingly phrased, so we ignored him.
Nrararn gave me a concerned look. "You usually like to find a reason to spare them."
"Not this time. These hovens have rather annoyed me." I had worked very hard to be a perfect hoven myself, and they hadn't let me. "Besides, if we let them get away, all the revolutionaries will know that we're spying on them in hoven form, and it'll be twelve times as troublesome next time."
Quarri tried to beg, which was boring, so I made him sleep too. One of the magistrates tried to sneak into the kitchen and call someone, so I made all the hovens except Sporthen sleep. I wanted to argue with someone, and poor Nrararn didn't deserve it.
"So, let us continue our conversation, Sporthen," I said in a silky voice. "It is what you came here for, after all, is it not? And be assured that you shall have the truth. I've never lied to you in any case." He looked briefly hopeful, as though I were giving him a chance to talk his way out of his doom. So I told him, "But don't worry. You won't be getting back to RARU with it."
"Going to kill him, Jyothky?" asked Nrararn.
"I'd like to, I've never been so furious at a small person. But he didn't actually quite attack me. Only the soldiers did that."
"Well, ask Ythac and Llredh. I'm sure they can spare a few traitorous magistrates, and they certainly owe you," said Nrararn, who is as sweet as he is pretty.
When you corner them, hovens get brave and defiant sometimes. "You'll get no more secrets out of me, monster!"
"I don't want any secrets out of you. You can't imagine that you have any secrets from us anyway. Do you know how I found your organization in the first place? I asked Ythac to pick a secret subversive society for me to infiltrate. He knows all about RARU. He knows all about Branner's super-secret Barracks, too, which my fiancé and I seem to have 3/8 defeated without even 1/8 trying or even meaning to."
"Liar! Why come spying on us if you knew everything?"
"Oh, you want to know the ever-so-horribly-wicked thing that we are planning and you are working so hard and risking your lives to try to prevent? Do you want to know what massive evil Ythac is preparing for your country and your people?" I let him fret for a moment.
"Jyothky, I have never smelled you so angry."
"You have, when Roroku humilated us in public. You might not have noticed, there was a lot going on that day. These hovens... We absolutely do not deserve to be killed for this! And how dare they be willing to kill each other, like they thought we were! And breaking into our apartment in the middle of the night, and trying to break your neck! I am furious, and rightly so!"
Out loud, I hissed, "Ythac sent us to try to find some way in which he can rule Trest better. Better for hovens. Do you know that everything he's done as your master is for your good? Everything!"
"And you say that you are truthful!" Sporthen shouted back. It's easy to draw an important hoven into an argument.
"Yes, indeed. Do you have any counterexamples?"
"There's the stone of Merraro! The destruction of our laws and our government! The punishment camps!"
"The first two are simply your misconceptions. Of course you're better off under under our laws. For yourself you make some terrible laws! It is a crime to worship your made-up gods the wrong way! But the camps are not for punishment. They would be nice camps, if hovens like you didn't build them so badly and slowly. They are quarantine camps, to keep a truly horrible parasite away from you."
"I didn't believe you when you were pretending to be a person and said that. I don't believe it now."
"Then I will make you believe," I proclaimed.
"Your lies will never trick me! And what does it matter what I believe, if you're going to imprison me or kill me anyway?"
"I'm not going to be in a hurry about it," I hissed at him. "It will be part of my entertainment to watch you languish or die knowing that you wasted your life fighting the absolutely wrong side of the fight." Which seemed a bit of a filthy thing to say, but it really wasn't convenient to go melt a mountain at this point.
"If you get him colonized, Llredh will be upset with you," Nrararn pointed out.
"That is a problem. Even if I kill him right afterwards. Well, there's another way to do it too," I answered. And, out loud, "Where does Dulac live?"
"I wouldn't tell you even if I knew," shouted Sporthen.
Nrararn poked around the kitchen a bit. "It's in the phone book, though."
"We'll collect him. Versley too, and some of the chiefs of RARU. Let's see what happens to their movement when they know what they're fighting for."
Yes, I am the villain of my own diary. Why did you expect anything better from a dragon?
|
World In My Claws
|
Bard Bloom
|
[
"comedy"
] |
[
"dragons",
"humor",
"first person",
"Mating Flight",
"1st person"
] |
Rescue (Day 1132)
|
Being a polite and helpful villain, I arranged with Ythac to commandeer an airplane to transport my victims from Tublier to Churry City. One does not carry victims by paw a long way, if one does not want to kill them too quickly, and I certainly wasn't going to let them ride on my back or make my fiancé carry them. It wound up being over a dozen victims: the eight who had broken into my apartment last night, plus Versley and Dulac, and the head and vice-head of RARU's Tublier chapter, and two surgeons from Tublier who were members of RARU. The gendarmes I sent around let the second half talk to the first half, and generally spread the story of my perfidy and shapeshifting. My own fault for trusting hovens to follow orders right, when I knew perfectly well that they were fighting me RARU-style and disobeying me at every turn.
Still, I was furious.
The only sort of pleasant surprise was Tarcuna and Llredh joining us in Albanne General Hospital. "We're not going to miss a chance to see a cyoziworm die," said Tarcuna.
The next problem was doing the surgery. Dr. Grauzeng was dead. We didn't want to intrascope Elrique, since we didn't know how likely that was to kill his worm at an inconvenient time. The surgeons refused to perform an operation to remove something that they didn't believe existed. Finally, I agreed to do it myself, with some of them stepping in to help when and if the worm was actually revealed.
"Cousin! I am sorry, I apologize myself! I somehow have mentioned your name to spies, and now the dragon wishes to eviscerate you!" cried Dulac.
"Cousin! I do not wish this torture!" cried Elrique, reasonably enough.
"To get rid of your worm, and she'll heal you afterwards," added Tarcuna. "She does a pretty good job of that when there aren't warplanes shooting at her." She rubbed her still-crippled arm.
"Worm! I have no worm! There is not a bit of truth to the stories of the worm!" cried Elrique, with a dismal miserable stench to his lie, vaguely like a rotting duckling which has starved to death.
"Quiet," I said. He struck out at the orderlies attending him with super-hoven force, and we had to quiet him ourselves. I did get to show off the Arcane Anodyne on two injured orderlies to the surgeons, who were grumpily envious and grudgingly impressed.
At length — considerable length — we had Elrique forcibly asleep on a table in an operating theatre, with several surgeons standing around, and an assortment of dissidents in various degrees of manacles and restraints behind them, and of course their guards. And my fiancé and Llredh watching from the back, craning their necks high.
I took a small shape with sharp, sharp claws, and ripped Elrique's udder and chest delicately open. His worm was there, squirming in terror, trying to move Elrique's unresponsive body to escape somehow. I healed Elrique's chest, leaving the worm sticking out halfway and caught between two ribs so it couldn't retract very well, and invited the audience to come and inspect the nasty thing themselves.
They weren't very eager.
Nrararn poked Dulac in the back with a claw. "Your cousin. Your mistake. Your turn."
Dulac walked over reluctantly, and poked at the worm, and cupped its fork in his hand. Tarcuna charged into him from behind, knocking him to the floor. Dulac picked himself up, his fur flat, and all sorts of fear and shame mixed in his scent. "It is a horror! I was about to place it to my breast!"
"I didn't know worms could do that," I said.
"I did know," snarled Llredh. "The fools of you, go now and learn of this worm, quickly. Its destruction, she is coming soon!"
I glared at Sporthen. "Your turn." He didn't move. "I won't let it take you."
Fear and disgust warred with bravery in his scent for a moment, and bravery won. "I am a magistrate. I will judge this for myself," he said. He strode over and put two fingers on the worm's fork. All of us watched in horror as he held the fork in one hand and fumbled at his blouse with the other, and none more horrified than Sporthen. Tarcuna and a surgeon pulled his hands away, and he retreated, shaking.
"Well?" I asked him.
"I cannot deny what I have touched, and seen, and been forced to do," he said. "I reserve judgment on the ultimate cause. You can change shape, you can breathe fire, you can heal fatal wounds. Can you not also create this terrible thing as your servant?"
"No," I said, which is true.
"I was taken before the dragons came to Hove. I've known people who were wormridden for much longer. Wulpmegarn found biological analogies that date back, I don't know, millions of years maybe," said Tarcuna.
"So you say," he answered.
"You can review the science yourself in Dorday. Indeed, when we cast you into the vilest prison in Trest, it will be your only entertainment," I said. Ythac had been a bit of a prissy stickler, and wouldn't let me kill Sporthen.
One by one, the other RARU members were lead up to get the experience of a live cyoziworm. There wasn't much to argue about after that.
Lesser matters fall away under the truth's inexorable breath, after all.
|
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