The Dragon Book (68 page)

“How do you know anything about our kind?” Tahlia lifted the dragon to look her in the eyes. “You just hatched.”

“What is going on?” Kir gave her a narrow look. “You’re not really having a conversation with that thing?”

“I think I am, actually.” Tahlia blinked. “She says her name is Xin.”

He gave her a moment of silence. “Sometimes I don’t know whether to believe you or not.”

Tahlia made a face at him. Kir was right, though. She tilted her head to look up at the soaring tops of the grove trees as they approached the grove. Her eyes already made her bad luck, never mind that the surf-dragons fished for her. Bring a strange new dragon into the picture, and she’d be lucky if the villagers didn’t drive her out of the grove altogether.

“Got something,” Kir yelped as the fish line tightened. “This time, don’t let that dragon of yours get it.”

I will not “get it.”
Xin opened her jaws in a gaping yawn that revealed a double row of gleaming teeth and a long, crimson tongue.
I am full.

They landed a fat redfish, and Tahlia told Kir to take it home to his mother. That would make her happy, and she might stand up for Kir against his father. A prosperous seagold-smith, Kir’s father believed very strongly in luck. Good
and
bad. She sent the surf-dragons skimming away with her thanks as they got close to the village grove. Night still lingered among the grove’s many thick trunks. Tahlia lifted the canoe’s outrigger into vertical so that she could maneuver the narrow spaces between the huge trunks, and skillfully guided it through the maze of tethered boats and small docks, stopping at the dock skirting the trunk near which Kir’s family had their home.

He scrambled up the netted ladder with a wave, the redfish, slung over his shoulder in a carry-net, dripping down his back. As he went, Tahlia thought that she heard a hoarse squawk high above. Like the cry of a ketrel. But the interlaced branches hid the sky, and it couldn’t see a baby dragon down here. The tide was low, and she quickly filled a small net bag with purple sweet-shell snails that had emerged into the air in the dark to feed on the fur of tree-moss that quickly invaded the tide-exposed trunk.

Tahlia tucked Xin out of sight against her belly beneath her tunic. She tied off the canoe and climbed quickly up to the first level, where the thick branches radiated out from the trunk, interlacing with the branches of the other trunks to create a tough, flexible floor. Each grove supported several levels, and this grove of trees, centuries old, carried four levels. Down here, sheltered from the storm winds but vulnerable to storm swells, the marketplace thrived. The wealthy crafters like Kir’s family and the most successful fisher families lived on the second level, the safest one.

She and her mother had lived on the uppermost level. Before the hardland raiders came that fall. Now, she lived in her canoe or in the trunk ferns with the spider-dragons. Or in the healer’s dome, when he stayed in this grove on his travels.

Xin stirred sleepily against her skin, her claws pricking Tahlia, and she stroked her until she quieted as she stepped from the ladder onto the branch floor. Strips of dried sea-ribbon woven between the interlaced twigs created paths, and she followed them to the main market, clustered between two of the grove’s huge trunks. This was prime market time, and the stalls were busy, selling everything from fresh sea-harvest through the crafters’ wares like dishes, spear and arrow points, and the fish-gold jewelry that Kir’s father made.

Her stomach growled at the scents drifting through the cool morning air, and she halted at her favorite stall. “Trade you sweet-snails for a fish and a bowl of tea.” She waved the bag at the old woman tending the burner.

“Are they fresh?” She peered into the bag, pulled out one of the purple snails, and sniffed it. Tasted it. “Not bad.” She grinned at Tahlia, her weathered face folding into a thousand wrinkles. “One fish.” She lifted the smallest of the skewered pink-fish from the fire.

“I just picked them, you know you’ll sell them all.” Tahlia shook her head, pointed to a fatter fish. “That one. And the tea.”

“No tea.” The woman shook her head.

“I’ll just take them over to Dalid, then.” Tahlia snatched back the bag.

“All right. Tea.” The stall owner snatched the bag back and tucked it quickly into the shadows behind her. “Tea.” She filled one of the smaller cup-shell bowls with golden tea, handed Tahlia the grilled fish.

“Who told you you could be here stealing food, bad-luck eyes?”

Tahlia froze at the taunting voice. Slowly, deliberately, she took a bite of the juicy fish. Swallowed. “Did you run out of little kids to push around, Andir?” She drank some tea.

“I don’t want to see you here.” Andir stepped in front of her, the oldest son of the head of the council, his blue eyes hard. Two of his cousins flanked him. “You want to buy here, you do it when I’m not around.”

“They elected you to replace your father?” Tahlia kept her posture relaxed, sipped more tea. “I guess I didn’t hear the news.”

“Someone needs to teach you respect for your betters.” Andir sneered. “You’re nothing but a tramp like your mother. You going to sell yourself to the hardlanders, too? They’ll like your eyes, that’s for sure.”

She threw her tea in his face and he howled, scrubbing at his eyes.

“You little …” He flung himself forward, massive as a whale-fish. And about as slow.

Tahlia slipped aside and his grab missed. His cousins were hanging back, grinning, expecting to see Andir give her a beating, she guessed. She dodged again, but one of his cousins shoved her from behind and Andir’s clawing fingers snagged her tunic. Xin was squirming now, struggling to free herself.

Sudden wind shook the branches of the grove, whirling shreds of tree-moss and leaves through the market.

Andir paused to look up, and Tahlia slapped him in the face with her grilled fish. Bits of greasy fish splattered his fine-woven tunic, and he snarled at her, lunging at her with the full weight of his body behind his charge. At the very edge of the woven path, Tahlia didn’t move as he loomed. Behind him, his cousins shouted warning, but he was too blind with rage, too sure of his catch to listen.

At the last second, she leaped sideways, dropping feetfirst through a space in the interlaced branches, catching herself with both hands, and swinging up and onto the path again in one lithe movement. Behind her, Andir screamed as his foot slipped through the branches and he fell forward. She heard his ankle break with the sound of a snapping stick.

“I’ll kill you for this, bad-luck,” he screamed. “Get her!”

People were gathering now, but she didn’t wait to see if they were going to intervene or not. Leaping lightly from branch to branch, off the path now, she headed for the next trunk. The cousins stuck to the path, not wanting to risk a fall into the water below. She made it to the next trunk before they did and scrambled up into the thick trunk-ferns that sprouted from it. Two spider-dragons lurked there, and she felt their interest as she scrambled upward, to the broken end of a limb she’d turned into a private perch.

“Go ahead and hide, bad-luck.” One of the cousins shouted up at her, his face a shadow in the dim light. “I hope the spiders eat you.”

One of the spider-dragons appeared at her shoulder and snapped, jaws crunching one of the hand-sized tree spiders a moment later. The huge spider’s mate lurked nearby, its red eyes gleaming in shadows. Tahlia broke off a dead fern stem and flicked the huge, venomous spider off its perch. A shriek below and the sound of running feet told her she’d come close to her mark, anyway. The second spider-dragon snapped up another spider, then stuck its nose under the hem of her tunic.

Xin stuck her head up through the neck of her tunic and hissed something. The spider-dragon flattened itself briefly, its silvery tongue flickering in and out, then stretched itself along Tahlia’s thigh as she settled herself on the mat of dead fern fronds she’d woven to create a sleeping platform.

That one meant to hurt you
. Xin’s grumble filled her head.
I need to …

What exactly she needed to do didn’t quite translate. “That’s all right.” Tahlia sighed. “He’s just a bully. We’ll stay out of his way. Maybe it’s time to go camp on the weed mats for a bit.” This time of year, it didn’t rain much, so it wouldn’t be too bad.

She was sinking into a drowse, the dragonlet curled beneath her chin, when a voice calling her name softly woke her.

“Slane?” She rose to her knees, poked her head through the fronds, soothing the dragonlet’s instant alarm. “Is that you?”

“It’s me.” Below, the aged healer looked up at her. “Come down. I know you say the spider-dragons protect you, but I’d rather you slept safe in a bed tonight, eh, girl?”

“When did you get back here?” She tucked Xin back into her tunic and scrambled down the trunk, the spider-dragons scrambling ahead of her, watchful of spiders. “I thought you were gone for a long time?”

“I was gone, but I got back this morning. It seemed like a long time to me.” Slane smiled down at her, his face a wrinkled map of years and weather. “They brought Andir to me. He broke his ankle.”

“I heard it break.” Tahlia lifted her chin. “Serves him right.”

“I expect so.” Slane chuckled. “I didn’t believe the boys’ story for a moment.” His expression went grave. “But some will. And you have made a serious enemy, Tahlia. Andir is a boy in name only, and you made a fool of him in front of quite a few people. He will hurt you if he can. And his father will shield him. Andir knows this.”

“I know.” She looked away.

“Come sleep in my dome tonight.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “No need to risk spiders. I think it’s time you joined me in my travels.”

Go with him? Excitement filled her as she scrambled down. But she’d have to leave Kir behind. Frowning, she followed the healer along the paths as he greeted the grove dwellers out doing morning errands. Tahlia ignored the dark looks she got from a few. News of the fight … Andir’s version, she guessed … was spreading fast.

The healer lived in a small dome on the second level. They climbed the rope web up one of the big trunks and followed the woven pathway through the branches, past the closely built domes encircled by their railed porches. As they approached his dome, with its extrabroad waiting-porch out front, roofed against weather, the healer paused. Light seeped from the door-curtain, which hadn’t been completely drawn. “I didn’t leave a light. Maybe you should wait.” He put out a cautionary hand, but before he could take a step, the curtain was flung aside.

“You found her! She’s safe.” Kir dashed out to throw his arms around her. “Tahlia, I was so worried.”

“Of course I’m safe.” She hugged him back. “You’re going to get in trouble.”

“Yeah.” He flashed her a grin. “I sure am.” He led them inside as if he was the host, as if this was his dome.

Slane, shaking his head and smiling, lit his oil stove and set water on to heat for tea. The glow from the oil lamp lined his face with shadows and illuminated the bunches of dried seaweeds, fishes, and hardland plants hung from the ceiling. Jars of extracts and ointments lined shelves, and his small table and narrow bed were the only islands of clear space in the clutter.

“Did you really break Andir’s leg?” Kir perched on the edge of the table, his pale eyes gleaming. “I wish I’d been there. He sure deserves it.”

“He fell and broke his own ankle.” But Tahlia had to smile. The dragonlet was squirming under her tunic, and she finally undid her belt. Xin immediately scrambled free, leaped onto the tabletop, and perched on a corner, her gleaming silver eyes reflecting the oil lamp’s glow.

“It’s bigger. Tahlia, it’s really growing fast.” Kir’s eyes opened wide.

Slane put the water jug down and frowned at it. “Where did this come from?”

The dragonlet tilted her head. And Tahlia smothered a grin. “She,” she said. “She’s a she. She calls herself Xin.”

Slane’s grizzled eyebrows rose into his hairline. “She speaks with you?”

“It bites.” Kir flinched as Xin hissed at him.

“I know you have an unusual bond with the spider-and surf-dragons. Oh yes, I’ve seen them pulling your boat.” The healer seated himself on a stool, offered a cautious hand to the dragonlet, who hissed, then sniffed at his fingers. “But they don’t speak to you, do they?”

“Not like this.” The tea water was boiling, but Slane seemed to have forgotten it. Tahlia got up to spoon dried grove blossoms into the pot and poured in the hot water. The dragonlet clung to her shoulder, sniffing at the rising steam. “Kir thought she was a surf-dragon.” She made a face at Xin’s outrage. “All right, I apologize.”

“Not a surf-dragon,” Slane said absently. “I don’t think so. Apparently, she doesn’t either.” He held out his palm, and the dragonlet, after a moment of hesitation, stepped onto it and walked up his arm to his shoulder, poking her snout into his hair and investigating his ear. “Tahlia … do you know why the grove people call your eyes bad luck?”

Tahlia put one of the steaming cups in front of him, didn’t look at him. “Because they think my mother … she mated with a Kark … a hardlander.” The whisper came out harsh. Kir had turned away, so she wouldn’t see the pity in his face.

“That’s Andir talking, isn’t it?”

Slane’s sharp tone made her look up. “Who else has golden eyes? Only the Kark!”

“It’s been so long we’ve forgotten.” He sighed. “We should not have forgotten.” He winced as the dragonlet probed through his hair with one claw. “Easy, little one, that hurts.” He turned his attention back to Tahlia. “You know the story of the sea-dragons?”

“Sure.” She shrugged. “They protected the grove peoples with magic and kept the Kark on the hardland. Then, one day, the Crone called to them, and they all flew up to the moon. It’s just a story for babies, Slane.”

“Stories often have roots in reality.” Slane smiled as the dragonlet leaped from his shoulder, her vestigial wings flailing, to land with a thump on the tabletop. She threaded her way delicately between the teapot and mugs, her claws scratching the wood, then scrambled onto Tahlia’s shoulder and wrapped her long, finned tail around Tahlia’s neck.