The Story of Owen (21 page)

“Weren't you the one going on about how we would think of crazy things and then try them because we were relatively new at this?” I said.

“Well, yes, but I think this is different,” Emily said.

“This hatching ground is different,” I said. “Maybe we'll find something that the professionals overlooked for all the reasons you said.”

“Okay, so we figure out how to move—shift—a hatching ground,” Emily said. “What's your idea?”

“Scotland,” I said. “Queen Victoria compressed a relatively large hatching ground in order to access Scotland. We just need to figure out how her dragon slayers did it and see if there's anything we can use.”

“We know how they did it,” Owen said.

“We know it took a lot of them,” I corrected. “We don't know exactly what it was they actually did. If we can figure it out, it might help us. Besides, the real point is that you'll have to research hatching grounds to write the paper.”

“That actually makes a lot of sense,” Emily said. “Well done.”

“Thank you,” I said. “But I also think we should add a second component, one that will require Owen to look at old maps in the archive.”

“Offense/Defense Friday!” Owen said. Our telepathy had improved a lot, I noticed, because that was exactly what I had thought of.

“Yes,” I said, for Emily's benefit. “The second part of the assignment will be to design a defensive plan for the Saltrock and Trondheim area, at specific points in history.”

“Now comes the hard part,” said Owen, drawing up his knees so he could lean forward and rest his chin on them. He seemed thicker, somehow, but I couldn't tell if that was because of his pose or because he'd grown a bit while I was distracted by exams.

“Doing the research?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “Getting Mr. Huffman to assign the project as homework.”

Emily smiled, and I immediately got the impression that we had somehow created a monster. Perhaps turning her loose
on the Internet wasn't the best idea, but it was the only one we had, and we'd come too far to turn back now.

“I've had a name on the board dad uses for two years now,” she said. “I lied about my age and where I'm from, and Dad hasn't worked out the whole IP thing yet, so I'm pretty sure he doesn't know it's me. I have a modest reputation on the message board, so if I make a suggestion, it'll get picked up and repeated by the right people. I'll just suggest that there simply isn't enough focus in schools given to the pre-World War I history of dragon slaying, and that if I were a teacher and had the power to do so, I'd make my kids research it independently and write papers on their findings.”

Emily folded her hands against the music stand and looked at us, the picture of innocence.

“I'm a bit scared of you,” Owen said. “But I like it.”

It occurred to me later that Emily wouldn't even be lying. Pre-Oil Watch dragon slaying was hardly curricular these days. Lottie was by no means the only adult content to face oncoming dragons largely unburdened by the lessons of history.

It was very nearly that easy. I mean, Owen still had to write the essay, which can't be anyone's idea of a good time, but the topic passed muster without raising any eyebrows. We spent several hours in the library learning more about Queen Victoria than any of us ever thought we'd learn. Fortunately, she was quite an interesting person, beginning with the part where she was the shortest person ever inducted into—and the only non-dragon slayer member of—the Order of St. George.

More relevant to our concerns, we learned that her shifting of the British mainland hatching ground (there were smaller subsidiaries on the unfortunately-named Isle of Man, amongst others) had been accomplished thanks to an incredibly large number of dragon slayers, employing tactics that the Redcoats had developed in India to deal with jungle infestations. There had followed a period of strict border enforcement, resulting in
dozens of dragon slayer deaths. Clearly, we were going to have to come up with a better plan, but at least we had the beginnings of some precedent to reference when we started strategizing.

We'd had much less luck with the Saltrock archive, since Mr. Huffman had made Owen's class draw their historical time periods out of a hat, and Owen's ended up being during the late '90s. All that information was readily available on the Internet. Emily was undeterred, though. She seemed to be intent on getting into the archive herself, since her father encouraged all forms of independent research, which meant, she told us, that he didn't really ask her where she had been. It was worth the risk.

Hannah and Lottie, along with a couple of their friends from the Oil Watch days, had planned a trip to Tobermory and a second to Sudbury, to see if they could find out any more about the goings-on around Manitoulin. Owen had originally thought that their absence would give us the opportunity to assist Emily with her more direct research, but once again, Hannah played dirty and my parents intervened.

“We're going to what?” I said, nearly choking on the mouthful of lasagna I'd eaten just before my mother made the announcement.

“You're going to start going around with Aodhan on weekends,” Mum repeated, rather calm in the face of my reaction. “Hannah suggested it. It will let Owen learn how to track dragons properly, and it will keep you out of the library, where you might get into something you're not supposed to.”

“Let me get this straight,” I said, having swallowed. “You are sending me out in a minivan whose date of manufacture predates the year of my birth, so that I can watch two dragon slayers track down enormous fire-breathing animals, in an effort to prevent me from spending time in the
library
?”

“There's no supervision in the library,” Dad said. I wasn't entirely convinced that I hadn't somehow ended up in bizarro world. Also, I couldn't tell if he was worried that Owen and I might get up to something inappropriate, which was unlikely, or if we'd stumble into some political firestorm, which was kind of our plan. “Hannah says it will be much safer in the long run, and we agree.”

“Plus it will give you more exposure to dragon slaying,” Mom said. “Which will help you with your compositions.”

Supportive parents, I tell you. I never thought they would get me killed
before
I graduated from high school.

And that was more or less how I found myself packed into a Volkswagen minivan immediately after school on the third Friday in February, with an all-weather tent, a brand new pair of long johns, and more homemade chocolate chip cookies than I had ever seen in one place in my life. As far as punishments go, it was fairly unconventional. I had never been camping before, and while Owen assured me that most of the time Aodhan stayed over at the houses of various generous locals, I was decidedly less than enthusiastic about the whole idea.

There are all kinds of stories about heroic quests, where dragon slayers traverse the countryside saving villages and preventing small-scale ecological meltdowns. They are typically very loud and very dramatic, all brass over strings with appropriately placed cymbals. What they don't tell you is that dragon
hunting is, on a perfect day,
really boring
. We drove for hours down plowed side roads and past endless snow-covered fields without seeing so much as a scorch mark.

I had thought that the Friday section of our expedition would be short, due to the fact that the sun still set relatively early. It turned out that Aodhan often patrolled after dark as well, because fire was visible a bit sooner than it was in full daylight. Since I was sitting in the backseat and didn't even have the headlights to illuminate my view, I spent the last few hours of the night trying not to fall asleep.

Finally, at about midnight, we pulled down the lane at a farm outside of Hanover where Aodhan was apparently well known. They were clearly expecting us, all of us, despite the lateness of the hour, because there was hot food on the table, and a fresh pecan pie for dessert. The family that owned the farm was very excited to meet Owen, about whom Aodhan had told them a great deal, and if they were initially confused by my presence, they made me feel no less welcome. Owen was on his second piece of pie and I was nodding over a hot chocolate when Aodhan finally declared it time for bed.

In days of old, dragon slayers had slept in haylofts, camped by the roadside, or in rooms donated by local innkeepers. We slept in the den on pullouts, or at least Owen and I did. Aodhan said he was too tall to fit, even once the chesterfield was converted to a bed, so he slept on the floor. I was asleep before Owen turned out the light, and not even Aodhan's rumored snoring was enough to wake me up before sunrise the following morning.

We had breakfast with our hosts before piling back into the van for another day of driving.

“Does that happen a lot?” I asked once we were on the road and the farm had faded into the rearview mirror. “People just letting you stay overnight, I mean?”

“Yes,” Aodhan said. “I saved that barn from a dragon in July, and the family told me that I was welcome to stay with them whenever I needed to. I don't always stay with them when I am patrolling, but I stop in every couple weeks or so, and there are plenty of other places where I can stay if I need to.”

“So that part of Lottie's plan is working out then,” I said.

“Yes,” said Owen. “People are so relieved to have a dragon slayer in the area, even an area as big as this one, that they are generous.”

“Well, we still aren't paying you,” I pointed out. “It seems fair.”

“Yes,” Aodhan said. “It's what we were hoping would happen.”

“And you're okay with it too?” I asked Owen.

He shrugged. I knew that as much as I tried to put off thinking about life after high school, whether it would be university or something else, Owen tried even harder. He wasn't afraid of his required service in the Oil Watch, but given the uncertainty of where he might end up, it was understandable that he put off thinking about the future as much as possible. This included thoughts of what to do
after
his time was up and he was free to pursue dragon slaying on his own terms.

“It has its upsides” was all he said.

“I don't miss the city one bit,” Aodhan said. He turned onto a paved road and I looked out the window to see the sign. I'd
gotten turned around in the dark last night and wasn't exactly sure where we were.

“What's the biggest difference?” I asked.

“Onlookers,” he said, without a moment's hesitation. “In Hamilton, there were always people standing around gaping. Out here, if a farm gets attacked, the family has the good sense to hide until it's over. Usually.”

I could see how that would be preferable, and I said as much.

“Also, it's nice not to have a corporation breathing down your neck all the time,” Aodhan said. “Lottie didn't mind as much, but I like not having to worry about sponsorship and motivational speaking tours and shooting commercials.”