Dragon Talker (23 page)

“Thank you.” Hental wasn’t crazy about the taste of tea, but he did enjoy the warmth of it on a cold morning like this.

“Tell me Hental, what do you want out of life?”

“Um,” Hental was confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what do you want to do every day.”

“I like this…wrestling with Yuri… throwing rocks at Carolyne. Little rocks, so they don’t hurt... And, listening to my dad’s stories, eating my mom’s cooking. That kind of stuff.”

Selma smiled, “Those are good things, but you might find better ways to be with Carolyne than throwing rocks at her.” She paused, which Hental knew meant she was switching gears. “I like your family, Hental. They’re not as stupid as most.”

Hental tried to figure out if his family had been insulted or complimented. Selma saw his reaction and added, “If I didn’t like and respect your family, Hental, I would not have spent the last two years with you bugging me now, would I?”

“No,” Hental smiled. He liked that Selma didn’t like everyone. One of the reasons he liked coming over, besides the goats, was that she didn’t make him “be respectful to others” like his parents did.

“When I die, Hental, I want you to take over taking care of my goats.”

“I can do that,” Hental said without a second thought.

“I know that, Hental, or I wouldn’t offer it, but I need to tell you what you are getting into. They, meaning the stupid ones, will say you are too young, that you need more mentoring, that one of them should be in charge, just until you get a little older.”

“That’s dumb,” Hental had to stand up. “Who here knows more than we do?”

“Nobody knows more than me,” she replied, “and only a few know more than you, and they are busy enough to leave you alone. It’s the idiots who think goat herding is easy and want all the benefits without the work.”

“But goat herding is easy, Selma.”

“Hental, you are not lazy. Most things are easy if you put effort into it. It’s those idiots like Thomchek and Batani that will be trouble. Those fools think they would have it easy if only they had more goats. Both of them tried to ingratiate themselves with me. I gave them each a chance, but they were idiots! Dumb as goats…”

“They wish!” Hental finished their private joke.

Selma patted Hental on his knee. “Goat herding is good for a boy. It will keep you moving, burn off all that energy you have, but if you feel the need to be around people all the time, you will be lousy at it. You know the type, keep the herd close, eat all the near grass and create a dirt moat around the village, mess up people’s gardens.”

“Batani,” Hental answered, thinking of one of the least popular people in the village.

“That’s one, for sure. Anyway, Hental, you’re not stupid and my goats are too valuable, served me too well to let them go to idiots. So, I want to give them to you, and this hut.”

To Hental’s parents and most people in the village, this offer was not a surprise, though early. Usually, children were apprenticed after they had gone through the dragon rites in the spring. Hental, though, hadn’t thought much about it all until he realized Selma was dying. Even then, he thought that he could help the next adult with the goats like he helped Selma. The rest of his life was too far away in his mind for him to see himself in it. For now, hanging out with Selma and the goats has been a fun way to spend his days, so he had.

He started thinking about what it meant. If the goats were his, that meant the meat and milk were his, too. He would have some status in the village. The other boys would be jealous, which he liked, and he would be able to give his parents whatever he wanted. On the other side, though, he didn’t want to move out of his parents’ hut. Out for the day was one thing, but he thought it would be lonely living in Selma’s hut. Still, that would mean he had his own hut like Yuri did. Both he and his big brother would have their own huts. That’s high status for a simple family, and Hental would be the youngest person in the village to ever have his own hut.

He would also always have the goats to take care of. That didn’t seem like such an inconvenience. He loved being outside and the goats would keep him outside and out of the reach of adults every day. The more he thought about it, the better it sounded. He knew most boys get apprenticed after the dragon rite, though ones who stay in their families have most likely already started learning the trade. Hental rated himself smarter than the other boys, so why shouldn’t he start sooner? He would go in knowing his future and he liked it.

Selma waited patiently as all this went through Hental’s mind. She knew he was too much of a free spirit to turn down the freedom the goats offered. He would have to listen to no one but the goats, and he would figure out the complexities of that relationship for the rest of his life. He would also butt heads with the people he would trade with and share the hills around the village. This was Selma’s own guilty pleasure, knowing how much grief he would cause the people she considered morons after she was gone. She noticed Hental’s brow pulled down in thought.

“What’s on your mind, Hental?”

“Would I have to move in right away?” He tried to say it without betraying any emotion, but the fear he felt at leaving home crept in.

“I don’t think so, Hental, especially since I’m still alive.” She laughed. “But when I do die, you have to take full responsibility of the goats and keep the hut in good shape. You don’t have to live here. I think your parents are pretty reasonable folks, Hental. I wouldn’t be surprised if they wouldn’t mind you staying around for a while, especially with that older brother of yours gone into the woods.”

Hental tried to decipher the tone of Selma’s “gone into the woods.” He became very protective when anyone talked about Yuri. He had heard a change in the tone of conversation around his brother, and even his family, after Yuri became the dragon talker. He wasn’t sure if there was anything negative in the way she said it, but he said, “He’s really brave,” just to make sure she understood where he stood on his brother.

“Of course he is, Hental. Brave and a little crazy.”

“He’s not crazy,” Hental defended his brother.

“Hental, I’m not insulting your brother. I’m just telling you a fact,” Selma said gently. “Becoming a dragon talker is about the most dangerous thing a person in this village can do. It’s also one of the things that will cause the most grief for a family. A dragon talker will always be second-guessed and untrusted. You have to be a little crazy to take that on.”

Hental understood what she said, especially since he was starting to experience the difficulty of being a family member of the dragon talker. Still, he was the only one he allowed to call Yuri names. “He’s brave.”

“You know you talk to goats?”

This question momentarily distracted Hental. He answered, “Yeah, so?”

“Well, some people would say you are crazy.”

“So they’re stupid.” Hental was quick to label anyone who criticized him or his family stupid.

“In this village, I won’t argue that much, but it’s just as often that they don’t understand why we do what we do. Being a little crazy means you’re interesting. I’ve got a story you might like about ‘crazy.’ Do you know what my grandfather had?”

This piqued Hental’s interest. He rarely heard Selma speak of her family.

She continued, “He had a dog.” She paused to let that sink in.

“No way!” Hental blurted out.

“Yes, he did. This was before Samora came.”

“When the castle was real?”

“That’s right, not just the rubble on the hill that it is now. The dog was his pet.”

Selma was surprised by Hental’s response, a quiet “Hmmmm…” as he thought about having a dog as a pet. Life after Samora destroyed the castle and killed the mage brought a lot of changes, and one of them was the elimination of dogs. Tied to mages, they disappeared after the attack. Since then, dogs went from being status symbols to a sign of repression.

“What are you thinking?” Selma felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. The topic was entering dangerous ground.

“I think I would like a do…” Selma slapped him in the face, cutting off the last word. He reeled back in shock. Selma reached out and pulled him, wide eyed, into her chest. “I’m sorry, Henti. It’s okay. I’m really sorry.”

She held him for a while until she felt he had gotten over the shock. She didn’t want him running off, not understanding.

When Hental pulled back from Selma, she could see that he was pulling himself together. She put her hands on his shoulders, saying, “Hental, you can never, ever say that to anyone else. Do you hear me? Saying that can get you and your entire family in trouble.”

“You hit me,” he said, still more stunned at this point than angry. “If you weren’t an old lady, I’d deck you.”

Selma laughed. “Well, Hental, you would be right. I probably deserve a good decking.”

Her acknowledgment defused some of his anger, and the ridiculousness of the image of himself tackling Selma made Hental shake his head. He was still angry, however, and not ready to let go of it.

“Dogs and mages…”she spit on the ground, “go hand in hand, which is why you can’t go around saying you want a dog. Memory runs deep and so does fear. We might not understand dragons, Hental, but we do understand mages.”

Hental looked in the direction of the ruins on the hillside, “The castle.”

“That’s right. Imagine that massive thing, for one person. Mages want more and more, but they want everyone else to do the work to get it. They’re cream takers, too. They get the best and the scraps are left for the rest. Getting a mage to share is like squeezing blood from a stone. They call it progress, but the question you have to ask is, ‘progress for who?’”

“You hit me.” Hental was getting over the shock.

“Yes, Hental, and you tell your mom that and she will have words with me, you can be sure.”

That made Hental feel better. Knowing he could do something about it, knowing that his mom wouldn’t back down from anyone when it comes to her children, let him put aside his anger and confusion for a while. He squinted his eyes, trying to look menacing, which only made him look cuter to Selma, “I might do that. We’ll see.” He got the last part from his dad. It was never a yes or a no, just a statement that things were under consideration.

Selma bit her lip to keep from smiling. She wanted Hental to know she did respect him, and a smile would not do that. She needed to change the conversation. “Do you want to hear about my grandfather?”

“No, not right now. Can I go home? I need to think about stuff.”

“Of course. Find your dad when you figure things out. He’s got a good head on his shoulders.”

Hental hadn’t heard Selma be this complimentary, ever. She rarely had a good thing to say about anyone in the village, but she was always respectful to his parents.

“How come you like my family and no one else?”

“That’s not…that’s true enough. Your family did a great favor for me, once. The rest of the village did not.”

This is a story Hental never heard. He just knew that Selma was like an extended family member to her folks. Extremely curious, he asked, “What did they do?”

“That, my little goat herder, is not for me to tell. Old stories, old favors, can sometimes open up old wounds better left alone.”

“What does that mean?” Hental asked, confused.

“It means it is up to your parents to tell you or not.”

Hental’s head was starting to spin with all the thoughts on herding, dogs, mages, and now a secret favor between Selma and his parents. “Adults don’t make sense.”

“No, Hental, we don’t. Not all the time. That’s why I like my goats. They won’t hurt you, Hental. They may not help you, but they won’t hurt you.”

“Come back tonight, and I’ll make you some cornbread, to apologize for slapping you.”

Hental loved Selma’s cornbread. He said, “Maybe,” but his smile told Selma he would be back. As he headed out the door, he said, “Take care of my goats while I’m gone.”

That boy
, she thought,
is going to drive this village crazy
. She loved him for it.

Chapter 36

“I am leaving this place,” Xeron said simply.

Melanie stared at him for a moment, not comprehending why he was telling her this. After a moment, she replied, “Yes, sire. Forgive me. Would you like me to get the cook to prepare some food for you before you go?”

“No, I would like you to come with me. I need a guide so I am not blundering around on unknown countryside.”

“Oh no, sir, I love it here. I would never want to leave.” As she said this in a calm, natural manner, her face turned angry. Still in the same, peaceful tone, she said, “I would never leave such a good master.”

“Of course, forgive me.” Xeron realized his mistake. Talking freely inside a place Perante owned would be impossible for someone who didn’t have magical gifts. “Come!” He ordered.

Melanie flinched, but the command wasn’t for her. Three mice came out from different nooks in the wall. “This,” he said, “is how he seems to know everything. The mice are enchanted. They don’t understand what we say, but the words are recorded none-the-less. It is an incredible pain to actually make them useful, but you can, with time and a healthy dose of paranoia.”

“Their minds are blank, now.” Xeron studied her aura. Those with magic, either owning it or cast upon, have faint to strong markers that stand out to those who know how to look. There was an aura around everyone he had met in this castle, even Melanie when they first met, but that, he remembered, had been very faint at the time. Now, it was almost as if her aura was blurred. Had Perante gotten sloppy? Did members of the chateau need regular infusions of magic to keep them here? He doubted the cook needed magic to keep him here, so what was different about this girl? Blurred aura or not, she was free from Perante’s magical control.

“Melanie. I don’t know what your story is, and I would be deeply interested in hearing it, on the trail. I know you want to leave. That’s why this dog brought me to you. I am leaving and I can take you with me.”