The Book of Fire (31 page)

“No, okay, listen,” he says, hearing himself sound earnest in spite of himself. “What I really think is, something happened. Not just another war, but something that made it no good living here anymore, no matter how much stake they’d put into the place or how much they’d fight for it.”

The girl’s voice is hushed. “Like . . . plague?”

Some things really are universal, N’Doch notes. “I gave that a moment, too, but I don’t think it was anything that sudden. More like, over a lotta years.”

This getting serious seems to work. The tightened vise of Köthen’s jaw has relaxed. He’s listening again.

“Some slower destruction,” he says.

“Yeah, like . . . well, like the water coming up.”

Recalling the meters of African beach lost to the sea, the dozens of coastal shantytowns washed away or forced inland, even in his own short lifetime, N’Doch gets up and points down the wider street that crosses the one they’d come in on. “Take a look down there.”

The street runs downhill from their vantage into a part of town where the buildings get taller and newer. But a block or so past their corner, the road dips into the bay and from there on, the buildings rise out of deeper and deeper water. Köthen joins him, their argument forgotten. N’Doch watches him and the girl try to get their minds around what the water means. Sure, they both know what a flood is, but your usual flood is temporary. Eventually, the water dries up or goes away. This high water has obviously settled in for the long haul. He recalls his moment
of revelation in Lealé’s office, what seems like months ago and is really less than two weeks, when he held the hard copy of PrintNews in his hand and actually read it, understanding it as fact for the first time ever, not just entertainment media. And one of the things it talked about was rising sea levels all over the world, stuff about ice falling off in Antarctica and melting in the tropical oceans. Well, there was a lot going down right then, people shooting at him and worse, so he got distracted from the specifics. Now he wishes he’d read it more carefully anyway. He stares at the green water lapping the window ledges down the hill and shivers, once, very hard. It’s like a spasm of comprehension settling in on him. He’d assumed the drought and the beach-swallowing ocean were local because they affected him locally. No, the truth is, he didn’t even think about it. But now, here he is in the US of A, if his guess is correct, and the same thing is happening. Or has already happened. This is his future’s future, all right, and he’s not sure he’s gonna like it.

Nah. Easier to backpedal. Be the old streetwise N’Doch who lived for the moment, never gave the future a thought. “’Course I could be wrong, y’know. Probably just a real high tide or something. Storm, out to sea.”

Looking at an ocean flowing through doorways, Köthen barks that bitter laugh of his. “Oh, yes. And the townsfolk will all be home by dinnertime.”

N’Doch can’t help but grin. Already this dude reads him pretty damn well. “Okay, then, say I’m right. It gets worse. In my time, this country we’re in, or at least I think we are—this place was the wealthiest, most powerful country of all. If it could be done, the Americans could do it. So if they’re in this sort of trouble, I just gotta be worried about what shape the rest of the world is in.”

“It reminds me of home,” the girl remarks solemnly.

Köthen turns his eyes from the water. “This apocalyptic thinking again. I must stop listening, or you will have me believing you.”

“Oh, believe it, my lord,” pleads the girl. “I am sure it has something to do with why we are here.”

He blinks at her. “It’s the weather you’re after? I thought it was a dragon. Well, then, we might as well all go home. It’s God’s choice, is it not, to send cold or hot, wet or dry?
If He wishes to make the waters rise, there’s little my good sword arm can do about it.”

“It ain’t that simple . . .” N’Doch begins, at the same time that the girl says, “But what if it isn’t God who’s responsible?”

“Who, then, other than God?”

“Some great Evil.”

Köthen sucks his teeth, contriving to look both contemptuous and worried. “You’d have better brought Hal Engle on this trip, then, instead of me. Great Evils are his bailiwick. Especially as he thinks I’m one of them.”

But the girl is in her dogged mode. When Köthen moves away to reclaim his chunk of rubble, she follows him, arms outstretched. “But isn’t it odd, my lord? At home, there was snow and ice in August. In N’Doch’s time, a drought was killing the land. Here, the sea is swallowing the cities! And, lo, dragons are waking from their timeless sleep, called to a holy Mission! Surely their mission is to defeat this Evil, and bring Goodness back into the world!”

N’Doch lets out a slow whistle. He can’t help himself. Where the hell did all that come from?

Köthen rests his elbows on his knees, shaking his head. “Hal Engle has too charismatic an influence upon the young. He should be curtailed.”

“Sir Hal has not even heard this idea!” the girl protests.

“Would you like to hear my theory?” N’Doch thinks it’s time to deflect this argument. “I’m not sure you’ll like it any better.”

But Köthen’s head has lifted suddenly, his nostrils flaring.

N’Doch stills. “What?”

“Do you smell that?”

N’Doch turns his head into the faint stirrings of the heated air. “Huh. Smoke. Somebody’s up and about.”

Köthen nods. N’Doch watches him take the breeze into his head like a dog would, sorting the layers and subtleties.

“At a distance,” he says. “A sickly kind of smoke.”

“Yeah?” N’Doch gives it another try. Sure enough, it ain’t just woodsmoke. He’s always thought he had a pretty good nose, but this guy’s a real pro. “Could be . . . maybe . . . burning rubber? Oh, right. You wouldn’t know what that is. It’s this gooey shit they make . . .”

Köthen waves him silent. “What’s burning isn’t important. Who’s burning it is what we need to know.”

The adrenaline is rising again, tingling along N’Doch’s nerves. “Like, friend or foe?” he mutters.

“Always assume the latter,” says the baron.

“Better safe than sorry,” N’Doch agrees.

Erde listened to their murmured litany, surely the sort of mutually reassuring exchanges that soldiers needed in order to prepare themselves for battle, and suddenly it sounded alien to her.

“No,” she said. “That’s not right. If we assume they are enemies, they will assume the same of us.”

Both men turned as one to stare at her.

“But this is their land. We are the strangers here. We may need their help.”

Köthen shoved his hands onto his hips and turned away.

N’Doch said, “And what makes you think they’re going to give it to us?”

“How will we know if we don’t even ask?” Then, finally, she offered her own version of pragmatism. “If we show up with a dragon . . .”

N’Doch shrugged. “She’s got a point,” he said to the baron.

But Köthen said, very quietly, “No.” He tested the air again, walked to the edge of the broken sidewalk, and stared down the street. “You brought me here for this. It’s what I do best. We’ll do as I say.”

“My lord baron . . .”

“The dragons are our reserves. Only a fool shows the enemy everything he’s got at the start of the battle. A fool or a braggart.”

Erde felt her back straighten involuntarily. “My grandmother the baroness often mentioned the value of a show of strength, especially if it means that needless killing can be avoided.”

“I have no lust for needless killing,” Köthen growled.

“We don’t even know who they are yet!” N’Doch complained.
“Why argue now about what we’re going to do to them? By the time we decide, they may be doing it to us!”

“There is no argument,” said Köthen. “We will do as I say.”

“Tell you what, Baron K . . . let me go on up ahead and scout ’em out a bit. I can move fast and light. It sort of used to be my profession—before I got shanghaied into the dragon business.”

Erde could see Baron Köthen wishing in his heart for someone predictable and steady at his side, like Captain Wender, or even the not entirely sane but surely reliable Hal Engle. On the assumption that there was greater strength in union, she decided to support him.

“No scouting now. We must stay together,” Köthen insisted. To Erde’s surprise, he turned to her. “Are the dragons agreed? They will come if you call them?”

“They will, my lord.”

His gaze lingered a moment. Then he grabbed her hands at the wrists and twisted them palms up and open in front of him. Their unscarred, healthy flesh seemed more than a puzzle to him: an offense, perhaps. How else to explain his tight, nervous expression?

“Did I dream it?” he murmured.

“No, my lord.”

“It’s true, then, is it, witch? Dragon magic?”

Had he not believed? Was N’Doch’s story of resurrection not convincing to him? “Oh, yes, it surely is. My lord Earth has made far greater healings than this.”

He balanced one of her hands in his left, and with his right thumb and forefinger traced the invisible lines where Wender’s dagger had cut into her skin. It was like sunrise. Her entire body awoke to his touch. Keeping her own hands steady was a supreme act of will. She couldn’t even think of looking up at him.

He knows
, she decided.
He knows exactly what he’s doing to me. Damn him!

And the thought gave her strength.

Köthen placed her hands down by her sides as if putting them back in proper order. “Well, then I guess I needn’t worry about whatever fearsome weapons these warriors of the future might use against me. I have a dragon to put me back together again.”

On the edge of the street, N’Doch cleared his throat. “Baron K. The sun’s going down. We better get going.”

Erde signaled the dragons.

SOMEONE IS ALIVE HERE!

Reluctantly, they gave over a part of their consciousness from their ongoing debate over the guilt or innocence of Lord Fire.

THE LAND IS DRY. IT COULD BE A BRUSHFIRE
.

Erde’s excitement ebbed. But surely Baron Köthen would know the difference between a man-made fire and one of natural origin.

N’DOCH SAID IT SMELLED LIKE “BURNING RUBBER.”

Lady Water apparently knew what “rubber” was.

That’s significant. Keep us posted.

BARON KÖTHEN REQUESTS THAT YOU MOVE IN CLOSER IN ORDER TO BE READY TO AID US IN CASE OF AN ATTACK.

DISTANCE MATTERS NOT. IF YOU CALL, WE WILL BE THERE UPON THE INSTANT
.

YOU WON’T GO OFF HUNTING, WHERE YOU CAN’T HEAR US . . .?

Nothing around to hunt.

N’DOCH THINKS HE SAW A RAT A WHILE AGO.

He never tells me anything!

Erde’s head sang with the sibilance of dragon derision. In order to sober them up, she asked them something serious.

HAVE YOU LOCATED YOUR BROTHER FIRE YET?

We aren’t miracle workers . . .

Lady Water sounded annoyed, but then, Erde often thought her too easily annoyed. Perhaps this was due to having an annoying human as her dragon guide. Erde was particularly irritated with N’Doch just then, as she feared he was bringing out the worst in Baron Köthen. She’d understood better how to deal with them when they were at odds. But just one life-threatening incident later, and they were instant allies. Any moment they’d be punching each other in the arm like barracks infantrymen and looking for flagons of ale to hoist together. When she said as much to
the dragons, Lady Water grew even more annoyed, and her brother Earth even more tolerant and kindly.

Well, he got his highness up and moving, didn’t he?

Did he? Erde thought she had done that.

YOU MUST TRUST THE BOY TO DO WHAT’S NEEDED. HE IS A SHAPE-SHIFTER, LIKE HIS DRAGON, MY SISTER. ONLY IT IS NOT HIS BODY HE CHANGES. INSTEAD, HE ADAPTS WHO HE IS TO THE REQUIREMENTS OF THE SITUATION
 . . . 
AND OF THE PEOPLE HE IS DEALING WITH
.

I couldn’t have said that better myself.