Spark the Fire

by Melissa McShane

  Rokshan followed the line of her arm and said a sharp, curt word she didn’t know. “I’ve been so stupid,” he said. “They’ve seen you.”

  Lamprophyre halted her descent and hovered about a dragonlength above the fleeing, screaming humans. “Should we leave?”

  “You’ll have to enter the city eventually if you’re the ambassador. We might as well not terrify them a second time. But—” Rokshan said the same incomprehensible word again. “All right. Fly past the park—the trees—and to the right of the palace. We’ll land on the training grounds. That will put you within reach of the Army, but better you scare them than cause any more of a riot among the citizens.”

  Lamprophyre beat the air again and soared past the trees—how strange, the contrast between the natural trees and the unnatural city—and around the palace, marveling at the smoothness and whiteness of its walls. For something that couldn’t have been built with dragons in mind, it certainly looked as big as a dragon cavern. The thought made her uneasy. It was one more reminder of how alien humans were, that they lived in places far too large to fit them.

  The trees circled the palace, leaving a gap three or four dragonlengths wide between them and the walls of the palace. That gap widened gradually as Lamprophyre circled the walls until it was the size of a plain, but with the ground hard-packed earth without a single growing thing on it. A series of buildings smaller than the palace, their roofs dull red rather than gold, huddled at its far side, and humans wearing dark blue sleeveless shirts and tan trousers that came only to the knee streamed out of them. Their tangled thoughts nevertheless were filled with images of her, terrifyingly large in the humans’ minds and glowing with fire.

  “Rokshan,” Lamprophyre warned, “they’re going to attack.”

  “We need to get close enough that they can see me,” Rokshan replied.

  The humans were organizing themselves into a regular pattern of rows and columns, like so many ants. She recognized weapons from the old stories: swords, and javelins, and bows like the ones the humans on the wall had had. “They’ll shoot you by accident,” she said.

  “Not if we’re fast enough,” Rokshan said. “Get lower.”

  Lamprophyre plummeted, causing Rokshan to shout—with delight, she thought. Humans were so strange. She landed on all fours at the far side of the plain from the soldiers and shrugged to help Rokshan dismount. Rokshan darted forward as the archers leveled their bows at Lamprophyre, calling out, “Stop!”

  Lamprophyre gasped and grabbed Rokshan around the waist, rolling to put one wing between him and the soldiers just in time for dozens of arrows to plink off the tough membranes. It felt like a hail of porcupine needles prickling her hide. “Stop!” she shouted, adding her voice to Rokshan’s. “Don’t attack!”

  Rokshan struggled out of her grip and peered around the edge of her wing. Lamprophyre looked over the top of it. The archers still held their bows at the ready, and the soldiers with javelins were trotting toward them. “I don’t think the archers will shoot if there’s a chance they’ll hit humans,” she said.

  “Stay here, and try not to look threatening,” Rokshan said. He walked around the edge of her wing and ran forward to meet the soldiers. Lamprophyre muttered irritably under her breath. She was about as non-threatening as a dragon could be, since she still hadn’t achieved her full adult size, and the knowledge that eventually she could be the size of Hyaloclast was no comfort in the present.

  She lowered her wing and sat back on her haunches, dividing her attention between watching Rokshan and keeping a wary eye on the archers, who still hadn’t relaxed fully. Rokshan had met the soldiers a little more than halfway across the field, out of earshot, though she could hear his thoughts: stupid soldiers, need Sajan, where the devil is he? and Father will be furious, like always, no point even trying to change that.

  More movement at the far side of the plain caught Lamprophyre’s attention. Another dozen soldiers had emerged from the low buildings, these wearing more brightly colored clothes and armed only with sheathed swords. Rokshan’s thoughts became tinged with relief. Lamprophyre hoped that meant one of them was this Sajan person Rokshan wanted to talk to.

  The new group of humans joined Rokshan without coming any closer to Lamprophyre, which frustrated her. She was tired of not being able to hear the conversation. Instead, she focused on identifying the thoughts of their leader. After a beat or two, she decided it was the female directly facing Rokshan. She had gray hair covering her head and the lower part of her face and wore clothing dyed bright yellow that was covered up both sleeves and its front with golden markings. Lamprophyre had heard soldiers wore uniforms. That uniform would certainly stand out on the battlefield.

  The female’s thoughts were direct and fearless, though she glanced repeatedly at Lamprophyre in a way that would otherwise have suggested nervousness. Lamprophyre could hear the female mentally plotting ways to attack her, and rather than make her angry, it settled Lamprophyre’s nerves. It was a soldier’s duty to defend her country, and as far as this soldier knew, Lamprophyre was a threat. So long as she didn’t try to implement her plan of attack, Lamprophyre didn’t mind her having it, if it made her feel more confident.

  Rokshan was gesturing in Lamprophyre’s direction, thinking hope Lamprophyre doesn’t get impatient. Lamprophyre held as still as she could, though her position made her wings tense and uncomfortable.

  The female regarded Lamprophyre, thinking nothing we can do about it, look at the spread of those wings, and Lamprophyre resisted the urge to spread them more fully. Concealing her ability to hear human thoughts could be useful to her as she set out to discover who had stolen Opal’s egg. True, Rokshan knew about it, and he might tell someone, but for now, it could stay a secret.

  Finally, just as Lamprophyre’s curiosity became unbearable, Rokshan turned, and he and the female approached her together. Lamprophyre relaxed slightly, twitching her wings to relieve the tension.

  “Lamprophyre,” Rokshan said as they drew near, “this is General Sajan, commander of the Gonjiri Army. General, may I introduce Princess Lamprophyre, ambassador of the dragons.”

  Lamprophyre opened her mouth to correct him—she wasn’t a princess, that was a human concept—but General Sajan stepped forward and saluted her. “Your highness,” she said. “I apologize for our poor welcome. We were not expecting you.” Her thoughts said good thing she didn’t attack, wonder if they really do breathe fire.

  “I’m sorry we startled you,” Lamprophyre said.

  “I take responsibility,” Rokshan said. “I should have considered how everyone would react.”

  “You should have,” General Sajan said, clapping Rokshan on the shoulder. Her thoughts sounded amused, as if it was somehow funny that Lamprophyre might have started a riot.

  This prompted another thought, and she said, “We scared a lot of people when we flew in. I’ve never been in a riot, but it certainly looked like one. Should I—”

  “Not you, your highness,” General Sajan said quickly. “I’ve sent troops into the city to keep the peace. But I’m afraid I have to ask you not to leave just yet. We’ll need time to spread word that you’re not dangerous.”

  Lamprophyre stretched her senses to the utmost and heard no sounds of terror, mental or audible. Fearing this just meant the riot had moved farther than she could sense, she said, “How long is that? I can’t sit in this field forever.”

  General Sajan exchanged looks with Rokshan. Rokshan’s thoughts were irritated, but not with her; he was thinking how stupid people were to be so afraid. General Sajan’s thoughts were more mixed, with fear and admiration and exasperation all tangled together so she couldn’t tell what the subjects of those emotions were. Lamprophyre felt a little exasperated herself. All right, maybe humans didn’t have many stories of dragons, but surely not all of them featured dragons as the enemy? She hadn’t considered, when she thought about Hyaloclast’s orders, that she might have to begin by teaching humans not to fear her.
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  “It’s your responsibility, your highness,” General Sajan said, addressing Rokshan. Rokshan’s lips twisted in a strange, unreadable expression, but his thoughts were even more irritated than before. “What are your instructions?”

  “You’re my superior officer.”

  “And you are a prince, and this is a diplomatic situation, not a military one.”

  Rokshan looked up at Lamprophyre. Some welcome, he thought. Aloud, he said, “Is the coliseum in use today?”

  “The next races are in two days.”

  “Then Lamprophyre can stay there for now. It’s isolated, for all it doesn’t have a roof, and we can keep it guarded.”

  “I’m in no danger from humans, Rokshan,” Lamprophyre said.

  “No, but we have to prevent anyone from attacking you. You’re an ambassador and that would look bad.” Rokshan saluted General Sajan. “Is that acceptable?”

  General Sajan nodded. “Give us an hour to post guards and clear the streets, your highness. We’ll make it safe for the ambassador. And then you and I—” She leaned closer and tapped Rokshan in the center of his chest— “will have a conversation.”

  Lamprophyre heard Rokshan’s thought clearly: should have known I wouldn’t get out of this unscathed. She said, “Thank you, General Sajan.”

  General Sajan bowed. “An hour, your highness,” she said, and returned to her soldiers.

  Rokshan sagged. “That could have gone worse,” he said.

  “Nobody died,” Lamprophyre said. “And I think she’s honorable.”

  “Who?”

  “General Sajan.”

  “Oh. The general is a man, not a woman. There aren’t any women soldiers.”

  Lamprophyre flushed a delicate purple. “I’m glad I didn’t say anything. All the stories say you humans are very prickly about having your sex misidentified.”

  “He’d have understood. Not many would.” Rokshan settled on the ground next to Lamprophyre and folded his legs in a way that would be impossible for a dragon. “And now we wait.”

  “Shouldn’t you tell your father I’ve arrived?”

  “I sent a messenger. The protocol is that an ambassador should approach the king, not the other way around. But you’ll have trouble fitting inside the palace. So I told him the essentials and asked his advice.”

  Lamprophyre settled more comfortably on the ground and blew out a cloud of white smoke. “I didn’t think this would be so difficult.”

  “Neither did I.” Rokshan laughed. “I was so amazed at not being killed by dragons that I didn’t think about the complications of having one for an ambassador. Our cities aren’t made for creatures like you.”

  Lamprophyre looked over her shoulder at the palace, rising tall and white above her. It certainly looked big enough to hold her, but maybe it was smaller on the inside. There were caves like that in the mountains, with mouths wide enough to admit a dragon that quickly narrowed smaller than any dragon could fit. If all the human buildings were like that one, she couldn’t imagine how she could follow through on Hyaloclast’s instructions to investigate the egg theft.

  She glanced down at Rokshan, who’d propped his elbows on his knees and rested his chin in his hands like a contemplative monkey. Hyaloclast had told her not to reveal her true purpose. She’d also said Rokshan might be complicit, if his father had ordered the theft. But Lamprophyre was increasingly certain there was no way she would ever learn the truth if she didn’t trust someone.

  She idly listened to Rokshan’s thoughts—have to find something better than the coliseum, what if it rains?—and felt uneasy. If he were a dragon, she would do him the courtesy of blocking his thoughts unless they were pair-bonded and enjoying sexual intimacy. She didn’t think she owed humans the same courtesy, especially since she needed every edge she could get in searching for the truth. But Rokshan was different—he was her friend, and friends didn’t eavesdrop on each other.

  “Rokshan?” she said.

  “Yes?”

  She opened her mouth and closed it again. Hyaloclast would skin her alive if she revealed her true intentions to someone who turned out to be complicit with a villain, friend or not. “Am I going to frighten everyone I encounter?” she said instead.

  Rokshan shrugged. “I don’t know. Possibly. But I believe humans and dragons can learn to live together, and this is part of that. You’re not giving up before you’ve begun, are you?”

  “No. But I wish I had a cave to retreat to. Not right this moment, just in general.”

  “There aren’t any caves in the lowlands. We’ll figure something out. I want you to be comfortable.”

  Lamprophyre nodded. They both fell silent, Lamprophyre already regretting her decision not to listen to Rokshan’s thoughts. It would give her something to do that wasn’t fretting over how stupid this whole idea was.

  The soldiers had all disappeared, and the plain was empty but for Lamprophyre and Rokshan. The sun had reached its apex and beat down on Lamprophyre’s head and wings, heating the damp air uncomfortably. There was another thing she hadn’t considered; she’d have to live in the lowlands throughout the hottest part of the year, when the air was heavy and muggy and burdensome. That kind of weather made Lamprophyre sleepy. She’d be a terrible ambassador if she kept falling asleep when people wanted to talk to her.

  Rapid footsteps drew her out of her reverie. She turned her head to see a human wearing a bright green shirt and short trousers that left her legs bare trotting toward them. Her gait slowed as she approached Lamprophyre. Her long dark hair, gathered into a tail like a horse’s at the back of her head, bobbed the way a real horse’s tail would. Her thoughts were full of confusion and fear, and Lamprophyre’s spirits sank lower.

  Rokshan stood and dusted himself off. “Come closer, Lamprophyre won’t hurt you,” he said, his voice deeper than usual. It was a commanding sound, one Lamprophyre instinctively almost responded to. The female, who was smaller than Rokshan, approached very slowly, not taking her eyes off Lamprophyre. Lamprophyre smiled, which startled the female so much she halted.

  “Your highness,” she said in a high, breathless voice, “the king says…he says if dragons are willing to come this far, he can reciprocate in kind.”

  “Meaning he’s coming here?”

  The female nodded.

  “Thank you. Please return and tell his majesty—tell my father the dragon ambassador appreciates his condescension, and will await his arrival here.”

  The female nodded again and ran away the way she had come. Lamprophyre said, “Was that one female?” She wasn’t sure about her assumptions. Among dragons, males were smaller than females, but a female was more likely to be given the honor of speaking for the queen.

  “Yes, she was female,” Rokshan said. “Were you guessing?”

  Lamprophyre blushed. “I was. How do you tell the difference, for humans?”

  “Well,” Rokshan said, “most of what makes the difference is hidden by our clothes. Men have…they are…”

  “Why are you embarrassed?”

  “Because we cover our male and female parts out of modesty, and it’s considered crude to discuss those parts. And you’re female.”

  “I don’t understand. Don’t human females know about their own bodies? How can that be immodest?”

  Rokshan was as red as he’d been earlier that day, climbing the mountain. “I mean,” he said, “it’s especially crude for a male to talk about bodies with a female he’s not intimate with.”

  “Rokshan, don’t be ridiculous. It’s not as if I care about human sexuality.” Lamprophyre blew out an impatient cloud of smoke. “What about the differences that aren’t hidden? Why do some humans grow hair on their chins?”

  “Oh. Facial hair.” Rokshan sounded relieved, as if she’d changed the subject. “Only males can grow facial hair, but not all males do. So if you see someone with facial hair, he’s male.”

  “I see. Facial hair is male. Soldiers are male. Do all soldiers wear their ha
ir cut short? That would make sense, not to have anything flying around that an enemy could grab.”

  “That’s—actually, that does make sense, but really it’s that custom dictates men wear their hair cut short. So I guess that’s another characteristic.”

  Lamprophyre remembered the messenger’s waving horse tail. “So females have long hair? Why is that?”

  “I don’t know. It’s only custom in Gonjiri and Fanishkor. Other countries have different grooming customs.” Rokshan walked behind Lamprophyre, forcing her to turn to keep facing him. “I think that’s them coming now. Can you bow? I mean, are you capable?”

  “Awkwardly, but yes. Also, I’m not a princess—”

  “I guessed as much, but humans will treat you with more respect based on who your mother is, so let’s just pretend that’s a rank with meaning, all right?” Rokshan wiped his hands on his trousers. “I’ll introduce you to Father, and you bow. Then don’t speak unless he speaks to you first.”

  “Why not?”

  “Lamprophyre, I can’t explain all our customs before they get here. Just believe me when I say this is good manners.” He looked past her at the palace. “Here we go.”

  Lamprophyre followed his gaze. A crowd of more than a dozen people had rounded the corner of the building, their thoughts tangled together like creeping vines trying to strangle each other. She swallowed, feeling unexpectedly nervous. Time to be an ambassador. It would help if she had any idea what that meant.

  Chapter Eight

  The humans were grouped oddly, some out in front widely spaced from one another, the rest tightly clustered behind. They surrounded one male—he had gray hair on his chin the way General Sajan had had, so Lamprophyre felt confident about her judgment—who sat in a strange wooden contraption like a cage without walls. Very large humans, also male because of the short hair, carried the wooden cage by wrist-thick sticks protruding from its four corners. Their gait was so smooth it was like the cage was floating.