Dragons Lost (17 page)

She stared at him and
shook her head softly. "This is why I pity you. I could never cause you more
pain than the pain already inside you."

"Come back with me," he
said suddenly. He reached toward her again, remembered how his touch angered
her, and withdrew his hands, but he kept staring into her eyes. "Return with me
to the capital. To the Temple. I'll look after you there. You don't have to
wear rags anymore; I will cloth you in fine cotton. You don't have to walk
around covered in sand and mud; I will provide you with baths, soaps,
hairbrushes." He glanced at her tangled hair and couldn't help but laugh—a
shaky, scared laugh. "I can provide you with food, wine, shelter, everything
you need."

She touched the tangles
of her hair, tried to pass her fingers through the knots, and could not. She
seemed to consider his words, then shook her head. "No. There's no more home
for me in the capital. I swore that I would live wild as a dragon, never as a
human." She began to shift again.

"Wait!" he said, and
she returned to human form. "Where would you go?"

She shrugged. "The
mountains. The deserts. Maybe overseas to the Horde."

"Paladins patrol all
corners of the Commonwealth for stray firedrakes and weredragons; they would
slay you on sight. And the Horde? They would hear your Commonwealth accent;
they too would butcher you. They beat and slay women when they're not enslaving
them. I can't let you suffer that fate."

Her eyes flashed. "Enslavement?
Beatings? I know something of those. Sort of like how you treat your
firedrakes."

The words shot pain
through him. "I told you I'm sorry. I truly am—deeply. Let me atone for those
sins. Please, Domi. Let me atone. I hurt you. I know that. And I will always
feel that guilt. Let me help you now—please. Let me make this right. I hurt
you, so now let me save you. Let me tend to you. Come home with me, and let me
find you work in the Temple, let me find you a better life. Please." His voice
dropped to a whisper. "I love you."

As he spoke those
words, he knew that he meant them. Staring at her dirty, cut body—a body he
himself had hurt—stirred a mixture of pity, guilt, and love inside him. He had
craved to tame Pyre the wild firedrake, and more than anything now, he wanted
to protect Domi the woman. To embrace her, kiss her tears away, stroke her
hair, tell her things would be all right. To shelter her. To be her protector
in a cruel world that would hurt and hunt her.

"Please," he said. "I
promise you, Domi. I promise to never hurt you again. I promise to look after
you, to give you the life of wealth and security you deserve. Come with me."

She lowered her head,
and he saw that tears were streaming down her cheeks, drawing pale lines
through the dirt. Finally she looked up at him, eyes sparkling.

"I will go with you."

Relief flooded Gemini,
and he took two great steps toward her and pulled her into his arms. Her body
was stiff, and she did not embrace him back, but he kept holding her, trying to
be gentle, to protect her from the world that wanted to hurt her. He kissed the
top of her head.

"Oh Pyre," he
whispered, holding her close. "I will always love you. I swear. Always. You are
mine now. You will be safe, my pet. You are mine."

 
 
DOMI

As Domi walked back to the city
with Gemini, she kept cursing herself.

Stupid girl! You
should have killed him. He's the enemy of your people. At least you should have
fled him! Now you return with him, again his slave.

She looked at Gemini
who walked by her side along the boardwalk, holding her hand. The tall, slender
paladin showed no sign of his earlier cruelty. With his pale armor, snowy hair,
and noble features, he almost seemed handsome to Domi, a strong man to protect
her, to give her a better life, to—

No!
She
tightened her jaw. If she let him care for her, if she became some kind of
human pet to him, she would do so for Requiem. Whatever she would be to him—servant,
slave, even lover—she would use this chance to infiltrate the Temple. To learn
more about High Priestess Beatrix and her powers. To learn more than she'd been
able to in the firedrake pit. How did the Temple know whenever a child was
born? Did the Temple know of any other living Vir Requis? And perhaps most
importantly, Domi could learn the fate of her father, her sister, and Cade.

Living with Gemini,
I can help Requiem,
she thought. And so she kept walking with him across
the boardwalk of Sanctus, letting him hold her hand.

They must have made
quite a sight—a paladin all in priceless armor, the white plates filigreed with
gold and silver, and a scrawny woman in rags and tattered stockings, her hair a
tangle of red like wildfire, hiding her face. Luckily the hour was late. Most
of the soldiers had sailed off to hunt the Vir Requis, and those who remained
in the city had mostly retired to their beds in the fortress. Only a handful of
men remained on the boardwalk, watching the sea.

"First things first, we'll
have to get you some proper clothes." Gemini glanced at her rags. "Those old
tatters are nearly falling off."

"They're comfortable,"
Domi said.

A hint of harshness
filled his voice. "I'm sure they are. But if you're to be seen with me, you
must look like a proper daughter of the Temple, not a waif." He sighed, and his
voice softened. "I promised to tend to you. Let me tend to you. Please."

She glanced down at her
ragged burlap tunic, the rope around her waist, and her tall stockings that
seemed formed of more holes than fabric. She sighed and nodded.

He led her off the
boardwalk and along a narrow, cobbled street. Shops and homes rose alongside
them, simple huts of clay, their roofs domed. A few trees grew from rings of
cobblestones, and behind her, Domi still heard the sea whisper. They walked
down several blocks of narrow, twisting streets.

"I saw a place here
somewhere . . . where . . . ah!" His eyes lit up. "Here."

He led her toward a
round clay house, taller than the others. A statue of an ancient druid rose in
the garden, hands pressed together. Ilbane—the plant that burned weredragons—grew
around the statue's feet, and Domi froze and hissed. Even from here, she could
smell the leaves, feel them burn her.

Gemini squeezed her
hand and tugged her along. "Come on. We'll walk along the path. The plants won't
hurt you."

She followed reluctantly.
Walking along the small, pebbly path through the ilbane garden felt like
walking along a bridge over lava. Finally they reached the house's door, and
Gemini pounded on it with his fist.

"Open up!" he shouted.

No answer came.

"They're probably asleep,"
Domi said, glancing up at the moon. The hour was late.

He ignored her and
pounded on the door again. "Open up, damn you! In the name of the Temple!"

A light turned on in an
upstairs window—the glow of an oil lamp. Footsteps shuffled and the door
creaked open, revealing a wizened old woman in a white shawl. Gemini shoved the
door wider, nearly knocking the woman down, and tugged Domi into the house.
Inside, many robes hung on pegs, and reels of fabrics rose everywhere,
reminding Domi of cottony caskets of ale.

"My lord!" said the
seamstress, kneeling.

Gemini didn't spare her
a glance. He patted Domi's hand and smiled at her, his eyes lighting up.

"Choose, Domi," he said.
"Choose any fabric you like, and I'll have the seamstress prepare you a fine
tunic."

Domi looked around the
house. "All the fabrics look the same. They're all white."

He smiled. "I have much
to teach you. They're all different. Some are lush and expensive, others thinner
and cheap. Some are cotton, others wool, and some silk. Touch them! Caress
them. Choose your favorite."

Domi didn't care what
fabric she wore; she'd be happy wearing burlap again like a commoner. But she
dared not defy Gemini. She walked among the reels of fabric, caressing them.
Finally she chose a light, soft fabric—cotton, she thought.

The seamstress smiled
at her. "An excellent choice, my child." She pulled out a strip of tape, and
Domi stretched out her arms, letting the woman measure her.

"Have the tunic ready
by noon tomorrow," Gemini said when the seamstress was done. He slapped a few
silver coins onto the table. "Wake up your girls now if you must, but have it
ready. Deliver it to the fortress, and tell the guards it's for Lady Domi. If
you're late, I will be very disappointed. You would not like that."

The seamstress nodded. "It
will be ready, my lord."

Gemini took Domi's hand
again and guided her out of the house.

He led her through the
streets and between the dark homes. Scattered lanterns rose along the streets
of Sanctus, and a few stray cats, eyes glowing in the night, were the only life
they saw. Finally they reached a stretch of land that thrust out into the sea,
something halfway between a small peninsula and a massive breakwater. A road
here led them toward Fort Sanctus, guardian of the city and watcher of the sea.
Its towers rose into the night, bearing the banners of the Cured Temple,
tillvine blossoms upon them.

A few years ago, when
Domi had still lived in the library with her father and sister, she had read
The
Book of Requiem
. The Temple claimed that Sanctus had always been a city of
the Commonwealth, serving the Spirit, but Domi knew better. Over a thousand
years ago, Fort Sanctus had been but a single tower, a relic of a kingdom named
Osanna. The hero Kyrie Eleison, a great Vir Requis, had hidden in the tower
from Dies Irae, a tyrant who had hunted the Vir Requis to near extinction.
Kyrie had begun his journey here in Fort Sanctus, eventually finding other Vir
Requis, binding together, and raising Requiem from ruin.

The hero Kyrie fought
the enemies of Requiem here,
Domi thought, head lowered.
While I walk
hand in hand with a new tyrant.

They passed by guards
in chainmail and white tunics—commoners drafted into the Temple's army—and
entered the grand hall of Fort Sanctus. Domi had never been inside the Cured
Temple back in the capital, only in the pit beneath it. Flying by the Temple
windows, however, she had glimpsed halls of splendor: marble columns inlaid
with jewels, ceilings of gold and azure, priceless tapestries, crystal chandeliers,
and statues made of precious metals. Here, far on the eastern coast, was a
simpler place. The floor was simple stone, the columns unadorned limestone, the
vaulted ceiling fading into shadows. Through arrowslits, Domi glimpsed the dark
sea, and the sound of the waves rolled through the fortress in a soothing
lullaby.

Gemini led her down a
corridor and to the bathing chamber. Several bronze baths rose here, and water
was simmering in a cauldron over a fire. Brushes, soaps, and towels lay on
wooden tables. Gemini roused a servant who lay sleeping in the corner.

"Prepare a bath!"
Gemini ordered the man. "Then head to the kitchens, wake the cooks, and order
two meals prepared. Have them delivered to my chambers. Go!"

Soon the bath was full
of hot, soapy water. Domi stepped forward and stared at the bath, but she did
not step in.

"Go on," Gemini said. The
harsh tone, which he had used with the servant, was gone now. His voice was
soft, almost kind. "You'll feel better once you've bathed."

She stared down at her
body; it was covered in sand, grime, sweat, and mud. She had not bathed in . .
. by the stars, it must have been years, not since she had left the library to
become an undercover firedrake. She was used to her own smell, but Domi
imagined that Gemini's nostrils were not as desensitized.

I wonder if Cade
thought me filthy and stinky too,
Domi thought. That thought disturbed her
more than what Gemini might think. Cade had been angry at her; he had yelled
and tried to leave her, maybe had even blamed her for the ruin of his village.
But Domi had seen kindness in him, and she had thought of Cade often since that
day. If she ever saw Cade again—if he escaped Mercy and could return to her
someday—Domi wanted to at least greet him without her stench preceding her.

"Turn around," she said
to Gemini. "I won't have you watching me undress."

He nodded and turned to
face the wall.

Domi peeled off the
tatters of burlap that clung to her skin with mud and sweat. When finally off
her body, they disintegrated, falling to the floor in shreds. Only the filth,
apparently, had held the rags together; she would wear them no more. She
climbed into the hot water, leaned back, and couldn't help but sigh.

It felt wonderful.

"You can turn back now,"
she said, sitting in the bath, the water up to her neck.

Gemini turned back
toward her and frowned. "The water's all gray already."

Her head sticking out
from the soapy broth, Domi couldn't help but grin. It was the first time she
had smiled in ages, and it felt good.

"I was dirty."

She dunked her head
underwater and rubbed the dirt out of her hair. When Gemini handed her a brush,
she worked for a long time, clearing out the knots. He made her switch to a
second bath then, one of clean water, and she gave herself a second scrubbing. Finally,
when her fingers were wrinkled, she stepped out from the bath and wrapped
herself in a towel.

"Wear this for now,"
Gemini said, fetching her a tunic from a shelf. "It's mine. It'll be too large
for you, but it'll do until the seamstress delivers your proper clothes."

He turned around again,
and when he turned back and saw her in the tunic, Gemini let out a long,
pleased sigh.

"You're beautiful," he
whispered.

Domi tiptoed, barefoot,
across the wet floor toward a tall mirror. She examined her reflection, and she
barely recognized herself. Her skin, always coated in dirt, was now very pale
and strewn with freckles. Her hair, always a mess of tangles, now hung down
neatly past her chin, the color of fire. Only her eyes remained the same—large
and green and staring curiously.