Spark the Fire

by Melissa McShane

  “Now I’m hungry,” Rokshan said. “I’m going to have my own supper, and I’ll see you in the morning, yes? We’ll discuss the problem further then.” He waved and headed for the exit.

  “I wish I’d thought to provide for his highness,” Akarshan said. Lamprophyre waved his concern away, her mouth too full for speech. It was strange, having her cow cut up for her as if she were a child, but it was obvious the only way to cook the meat in this manner was to have it carved up before it was roasted. Such a simple idea. She would have to try it herself sometime, though it would take forever to prepare.

  She ate until she was full, then waved goodbye to Akarshan and his helpers as they removed the wheeled platform. Full, warm, comfortable…there was no question she’d sleep well that night, concerns about Manishi’s use of the kyanite aside. Tomorrow she’d tell Rokshan the truth about Hyaloclast’s instructions, and together they would figure out a plan.

  She curled up next to the inner wall and traced the curves and lines Rokshan had said were her written name until she drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The Green River’s name made more sense when you were right up close to it. Thick-bladed green grass grew all the way to the banks, with trees Lamprophyre didn’t recognize dipping long, flexible branches laden with leaves into the shallows. She lay on her stomach and dipped a finger into the water, which reflected all that green so intensely she was almost surprised when her finger came away dripping clear water.

  The sound of running footsteps made her turn in time to see Rokshan dash past her and leap into the water. He landed far from shore, disappearing beneath the river’s surface before she could duck away from the spray his body threw up. She shook droplets from her head and pushed herself up. “I shouldn’t do that,” she told Rokshan as he emerged, tossing his head back so his wet hair flung more droplets her way.

  “No, you’d send up a wave the likes of which no boatman has ever seen,” Rokshan agreed. “Come on in.” He was bobbing up and down without being pulled away by the current, which wasn’t swift at this point in the river’s course.

  Lamprophyre gingerly slid off the bank into the water. It was cool and smooth, and the weeds growing in the shallows tickled her feet pleasantly. She took a few more steps until the water covered her hips, then lowered her tail beneath the water and sighed with pleasure. “It’s not very deep.”

  “It’s deeper where I am,” Rokshan said. He splashed water at her face. “Go on, show me dragons can swim.”

  She batted away the water. “Dragons are very awkward swimmers. Mostly we paddle.”

  “Then do that. Or do you not like to get your wings wet?” He splashed her again.

  “I do not. Why do you keep splashing me?”

  “It’s a human game.” Another splash. Lamprophyre flicked water out of her eyes and splashed Rokshan in return. The wave of water churned up by her hand swept over his head and dunked him, making him cough and gasp.

  “All right,” he said when he’d recovered, “so that’s not a game I can play with a dragon and win.”

  “I should think not,” Lamprophyre said smugly. She walked a few more paces, keeping her wings well out of the water, until she was standing next to Rokshan. “You’re not touching bottom? How are you keeping your head above water?”

  “I learned to swim when I was young. This is a swimming stroke that keeps me in one place. Though the current wants to drag me away.” Rokshan grabbed Lamprophyre’s arm and pulled himself up. Supported by the water as he was, he weighed practically nothing. Lamprophyre took the opportunity to observe his chest and upper arms. His muscles were less well-defined than a dragon’s were, but they were nicely shaped and didn’t bulge like the king’s guards. Lamprophyre decided she liked them better than the amusingly bulgy ones. Though she would never tell him this, because he would be embarrassed.

  Rokshan held Lamprophyre’s arm and lay back so he was floating. “I don’t know why I haven’t been swimming in a while, because this is wonderful.”

  Lamprophyre moved her arm to drag him back and forth in the water, making him laugh. “Now let go so I can try to float,” she said.

  Rokshan released her and watched as she bent backward, dipping her wings into the water. The sensation of cool, moving water over her membranes made her shiver. “That doesn’t hurt, does it?” Rokshan asked.

  “No, it tickles. But this is the only way I can lie on my back. My wings are too rigid for lying supine to be comfortable on land, even when they’re fully spread.” She kicked off the riverbed and flung out her arms for balance as she brought her legs up. Carefully, she wrapped her tail as far around her waist as it would go, which wasn’t very. Floating on her back took concentration, and for a few beats, all her thoughts focused on keeping herself from dipping below the water.

  Rokshan dove, reappearing on her other side, then floated with her. “The current is carrying us away.”

  “It can’t take us so far I can’t get us back to Tanajital in no time.” She wobbled, flung out her arms again for balance, and tried to relax.

  “I feel almost guilty,” Rokshan said. “I know my father intended this liaison assignment as a chore, but here I am in the middle of the day, swimming with a friend. It’s not even close to being work.”

  A friend. His casual words warmed Lamprophyre’s heart. “We are friends,” she agreed. “And I have something I need to tell you, as a friend. Something you can’t tell anyone else.”

  “That sounds dire.”

  “It isn’t. Well, it might be. It’s just that Hyaloclast gave me instructions and told me to keep them secret. But I don’t want to keep secrets from you.”

  Rokshan popped upright and began doing that swimming stroke that made him bob up and down. “If it’s diplomatic business, you shouldn’t tell me, Lamprophyre. You and I may be friends, but we’re still representatives of different countries. If we were to go to war, we couldn’t share information.”

  “Diplomatic business?” Lamprophyre considered this. “I don’t think that’s what it is. It’s just that Hyaloclast instructed me to find out who stole the egg, and who made that wand. And I need your help if I’m to do that.”

  “Oh. Weren’t we already doing that?”

  “Yes, but the secret is that finding that out matters more to Hyaloclast than anything I might do as an ambassador. So it’s more important than just idle curiosity.”

  Rokshan was silent. Lamprophyre uncurled her tail and stood, digging her toes into the soft muck of the riverbed. “It’s almost like you’re here under false pretenses,” he said.

  It was so like what Lamprophyre had thought herself that a chill passed through her, as if clouds had suddenly covered the sun. “I’m not, though. I’m an ambassador, and I intend to do that as best I can. I just also have other instructions.”

  “What’s to stop Hyaloclast from ordering you back to the mountains once those instructions are fulfilled?”

  Lamprophyre realized her wings were still half-submerged in the river and lifted them, shaking them out gently. “I—she wouldn’t do that.” But her words sounded weak in her ears, and she knew it was a lie.

  Rokshan shook his head. “And you need me to help you in this task.”

  “The more I see of the human world, the more I realize I don’t know. I can’t even fit in all the places you can go. I don’t think I can do this without you.”

  He tilted his head back to look her in the eye. “Even though my helping you will lead directly to never seeing you again.”

  “No! Even if Hyaloclast stops me being the ambassador, she can’t keep me from going where I want. And I don’t abandon my friends.”

  “Huh.” Rokshan swam for the riverbank and pulled himself out. He wore very short pants of tan fabric that clung to his body in loose, wet folds. Lamprophyre wanted to ask him about them, but felt as if speaking might make Rokshan decide helping her was a bad idea. She waded after him, holding her breath in anticipation.


  “I wonder what the egg thieves had in mind,” he finally said. He took a seat beneath one of the strange, drooping trees, crossing his legs beneath him. Lamprophyre ducked her head beneath the branches and settled down nearby. “Why would anyone steal a dragon egg?”

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense. Why would humans want to raise a dragonet?” Lamprophyre slowly flapped her wings to dry them. Between the water and the shade of the tree, she felt cool for the first time since coming to the lowlands, but wet wings were uncomfortable and difficult to fly with.

  “Maybe they wanted a dragon ally. Someone who would do their bidding.”

  “That’s a very long-term plan. Dragons aren’t adults until they’re fifty-five, and they don’t have their full growth until they’re about seventy. That plan would take up more than one human lifetime.”

  “Good point.” Rokshan rested his elbows on his knees and propped his chin in one hand. “And there’s no other use for a dragon egg?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He waved his hand in a funny gesture Lamprophyre didn’t recognize. “I mean, the egg shell isn’t valuable, or anything like that?”

  “Not to us. Who knows what humans might find valuable?” She leaned forward to air out the creases at the base of her wings. “The only thing I know for sure stealing an egg would do is make all of us very angry. Well, and break the parents’ hearts.”

  “Huh,” Rokshan said again. “What if that was the point?”

  “Making dragons angry? Why would anyone do that?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it’s a foolish idea. But it’s the only thing we can say for sure would result from stealing a dragon’s egg.”

  “Unless there’s some use for an egg we don’t know about.” Lamprophyre thought about young Opal, about something terrible happening to her, and her mind came up blank. “Gonjiri already angered us by settling in our territory without permission. Do you suppose some Gonjirians thought that wasn’t enough?”

  “We don’t want dragons to be angry with us, though,” Rokshan said. “We need their goodwill.”

  “Unless it was someone not a part of your government. But that doesn’t make sense, either, because why would some of your people want to hurt their country?”

  “Countries aren’t as unified as you might think,” Rokshan said. “Aren’t there any dragons who are opposed to Hyaloclast?”

  “No. She’s our queen. She’s part of what makes us dragons. Opposing Hyaloclast would be like your fingers staging a revolt against your hand.”

  Rokshan laughed. “That’s quite the image. Well, it doesn’t work like that for humans. Most Gonjirians respect and obey my father, and most of them are in agreement about what Gonjiri should do. But there are always people who think the king is doing things wrong, or who feel they’d benefit personally from a change in government. Maybe one of these groups wants to weaken Gonjiri so they can take over.”

  Lamprophyre gasped. “Would that work?”

  “Not really. The government is complicated enough that even if the country was weakened from fighting dragons, no antagonistic faction has enough power to take over. They’d need to control the military, for one, and General Sajan is too clever to let that happen.”

  “But someone might believe it’s possible, right?”

  “And try it anyway?” Rokshan nodded. “That could happen. So we could start by looking for groups who would like to see Gonjiri fall.”

  Lamprophyre cast a casual glance at the ground near Rokshan’s feet. “We?”

  Rokshan laughed, a single sharp syllable. “You certainly can’t do it alone. Besides, I feel personally involved, having helped you recover the egg.”

  She raised her gaze to his face. He was smiling. She smiled back. “Naturally. And having involved you, I couldn’t let you hunt alone.”

  Rokshan got to his feet and dusted himself off. Dirt clung to his wet garment, so all he succeeded in doing was spread it around. Curiosity got the better of Lamprophyre. “Why do you wear clothes to bathe? Isn’t that uncomfortable?”

  “A little, but it’s more uncomfortable to reveal my, um, male parts in public. Especially to a female.”

  “You mean me? I told you, Rokshan, it’s not as if I’m human. I don’t care about your male parts.” Though now she was even more curious about what they might look like, whether he was embarrassed because they were ugly. “Dragons keep their male and female parts inside,” she added.

  “Convenient,” Rokshan said. His face was flushed with embarrassment. “Men—human males—have their male parts on the outside, so we have to protect them by keeping them covered. They’re sensitive.”

  Lamprophyre eyed the tan fabric again. “I don’t see how that light cloth is much protection. I can almost see—”

  “Could we talk about something else?” Rokshan said in a pleading tone.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Mekel was wrong about it taking five days to make the customs house suitable for Lamprophyre. It was only four days later that Lamprophyre returned to the blue-roofed building and winged down to the bare circle before it. Mekel waited there, shielding his eyes against the dusty wind her flight kicked up. “My lady ambassador, welcome,” he said when she’d furled her wings. “I hope you are satisfied with the results.”

  Lamprophyre examined the building in wonder. Where before the walls had been a dull cream color, marred with dirt, they were now a brilliant white. Blue patterns of lines and curves and dots made the white seem even brighter. “How does the color stay on?” she asked.

  “That is paint, my lady,” Mekel said. “It is a thin colored liquid that sticks to surfaces and dries quickly. The blue is to match the roof and to reflect your own lovely color.”

  He was flattering her—she could hear it in his thoughts—but she didn’t mind. “I like it,” she said. “Is Rokshan here? He said he would meet me.”

  “His highness has not yet arrived. May I show you the interior while we wait for him?” Mekel bowed and gestured at the entrance.

  Lamprophyre entered, and found to her surprise it was easier than before. Someone had widened the entrance. It was such a thoughtful touch, given that the entrance had been wide enough before, that excitement thrilled through her again. This was even more pleasant than choosing her first cave as an adult.

  The lanterns were already lit, and the light was brighter than before. The interior was the same bright white color as the outside, and when Lamprophyre sniffed the lanterns, she discovered the glass was clean of dirt. The dirty patches near the ceiling were gone, with square holes where they had been letting in sunlight and a crisp breeze that smelled of fruit and meat and the scent of thousands of humans, pleasant from a distance.

  The small sheets of brass were gone, but the slabs of wood—Lamprophyre wondered now if they were doors—were painted a bright red that made the room feel even more cheerful. “Where do these doors go?” she asked, pointing.

  “They open on very small rooms where the customs officials used to sit. Far too small for your use. We considered walling them off, but that would have taken more time, so we decided instead to simply lock the doors and paint them.” Mekel walked to the back door, which was also painted red, and pushed it open. “My lady?”

  Lamprophyre fit herself through the door, which had not been widened, and saw the small buildings were now clean, their roofs repaired and washed free of dirt, and holes had been cut into their faces next to their doors. “Housing for your staff,” Mekel said.

  “Staff—you mean servants?”

  “Indeed, my lady.”

  That was something she would need Rokshan’s help with. Where was he, anyway?

  She rounded the corner of the customs house to the left and stopped, astonished. The changes here were even grander than putting paint on the walls. The poles holding up the counting floor roof were gone, replaced by tall stone piles faced with some hard, smooth substance that smelled bitter. The new roof, much more shallowly peaked t
han its neighbor’s, rose well above Lamprophyre’s head and cast a dark shadow over the interior. The flat granite stones paving the floor hadn’t changed, though they’d been scrubbed clean, and walls half the height of the stone piles isolated about a third of the space. Lamprophyre crossed to the first wall and peered over. Several flat horizontal surfaces sized for humans filled the walled enclosure, along with a long, shallow trough Lamprophyre couldn’t see a use for.

  “That is the kitchen, my lady ambassador,” Mekel said. “Your servants will prepare your meals there.”

  “I see,” Lamprophyre said. “I’ve never seen a kitchen before. Is there a human name for a room where someone eats?”

  “This would be a dining pavilion, my lady.”

  “Dining pavilion.” It sounded so grand.

  “If you’re satisfied, my lady,” Mekel said, “I’m afraid I must leave you. Other responsibilities, you understand.”

  “Of course.” Lamprophyre returned his bow and controlled a laugh at how Mekel preened inwardly at receiving her respect. She watched him walk away, passing humans who stared at him as if he and not Lamprophyre were the exotic stranger.

  The dining pavilion opened on the empty circle in front of the customs house, and Lamprophyre settled herself on the stones and imagined what it would be like to eat there. Humans had once more gathered at the mouth of the street, now staring at her. They would stare even more at her eating habits, she was sure.

  She listened idly to their thoughts and was surprised to hear an ugly, dark tone to them. Though there were too many minds for her to make out any one clearly, she caught snatches of words: vicious and intruder and fire, the last one repeated from mind to mind as if it were contagious. She left the dining pavilion and walked toward the crowd. “Hello,” she said.