Spark the Fire

by Melissa McShane

  She sighed, and settled herself where she could watch the street. Maybe if she hid…but no, the point of this was for her to meet people and prove how harmless she was, and if humans only came because they wouldn’t have to encounter her, what a waste. Even so, she felt stupid sitting here like a deer waiting to be picked off by a hunting dragon.

  Something moved in the street. Lamprophyre sat up. A handful of human males emerged, walking slowly in her direction. They had longish, unkempt hair, and she caught a whiff of their body odor, stronger than usual. She politely refrained from pinching her nose shut and said, when they were close enough, “Welcome. I’m Lamprophyre. Would you like something to eat?”

  Their minds were full of fear-tinged awe, of images of her much larger than she actually was, but overlaying that was a terrible gnawing hunger, as if they hadn’t eaten all day. Curious, Lamprophyre stepped closer to them. “You came for the food, didn’t you?” she said, disappointment filling her. Well, it was a start, though it worried her that anyone could be so hungry it overcame fear. Maybe they didn’t have coin for food, but she couldn’t imagine that was true.

  “It said, the dragon says come and see and eat,” one of the men said. His voice was gruff and he wouldn’t meet her eyes. The other two were silent. Unexpected compassion filled Lamprophyre, and she decided she didn’t care if their motives were mercenary.

  “Please have something to eat, and I’d like to talk to you while you do,” she said.

  The three men walked with some hesitation into the dining pavilion and collected food off some of the metal sheets. One of the servants emerged from the kitchen, saw the men, and hurried toward them, her thoughts angry. “You get on out of here,” she said, setting her stone slab on a table and gesturing in a shooing manner. “This isn’t for the likes of you.”

  “What are they like?” Lamprophyre asked.

  The servant paused in her shooing to look at Lamprophyre. “No better than beggars, they are,” she said. “You shouldn’t mingle with them, my lady ambassador.”

  “They’re hungry,” Lamprophyre said, “and we have all this food. And it looks like no one is coming. So why shouldn’t we share with them?”

  The men stared at her, their thoughts confused. One of them had his mouth full as if he was afraid someone would try to take the food from him if he didn’t gobble it. “I want to know more about Tanajital, and I don’t know what beggars are, so they can eat and tell me about themselves,” Lamprophyre added. “Please come over here while you eat.”

  The men hesitated again. Then the one with his mouth full walked to where Lamprophyre sat and swallowed quickly. “You don’t want to eat us?” he said.

  “Of course not! That’s disgusting. Who told you that?”

  He glanced at his friends. “Offer food so we’ll come near enough for you to snatch. Dragons hunt their prey, right?”

  “Yes, but we don’t eat people. How horrible.” Lamprophyre gestured to the others. “What are beggars? Is that a kind of work?”

  The man’s confusion deepened. “Don’t know beggars?”

  “I don’t know much about humans, even though Rokshan has answered all my questions. But sometimes I don’t know what to ask.”

  The man took another, smaller bite of his food and chewed it thoroughly before swallowing. His thoughts said is it playing with us? God’s breath, I haven’t had anything this good in years, like to die of satisfaction, but at least I’d die full. “Beggars beg,” he said. “Can’t find regular work, so we ask money of those who can.”

  “Oh. So people give you coin for nothing?”

  The man nodded. His friends drifted closer, intent on the conversation.

  “That seems very nice of them. But you seem—forgive me, but I can see you’re hungry, as if you haven’t eaten for a while. Do they not give you enough coin for food?”

  The man made the noncommittal jerking motion with his shoulders. “Sometimes. Sometimes not.”

  It seemed to Lamprophyre a very uncertain way to make a living. “Why can’t you find regular work? Or is that a rude question?”

  Now the man’s thoughts were embarrassed. He said, “I get sick, can’t get out of bed, and they won’t pay me for that. So I can’t keep a job. Same as them.” He indicated his two friends with a jab of his thumb. One of the others was staring at her with his mouth open, thinking never thought I’d see such a beast up close, but he meant nothing cruel by “beast,” so she let it go.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “That seems very hard.” Then, startled, she looked past the men and saw more humans approaching, all of them filled with curiosity rather than fear, with Rokshan at their head. “Please excuse me,” she said. “But eat as much as you want, and I would like to speak with you again before you leave.”

  She walked toward the crowd, who slowed at her approach. “Thank you for coming,” she said. “Please have something to eat, and I’d like to talk to anyone who’s willing. I want to know more about you.”

  Rokshan came to her side as the rest of the humans passed into the dining pavilion. “I’m afraid most of them are here for the food,” he murmured. “But it’s a start.”

  “I know,” she said. “I need some of my coin.”

  “Right now? Why?”

  “Because I want to give it to those males.” She indicated the three beggars, who had withdrawn to the far side of the courtyard and alternated taking bites of food with staring at her.

  Rokshan followed her gesture. “Beggars,” he said. “I should have considered. Lamprophyre, you shouldn’t give money to everyone who asks.”

  “They didn’t ask. They told me about what begging means and that they can’t do regular work. I want to help.”

  “Yes, but where does that end? You can’t afford to support every beggar in Tanajital.”

  Lamprophyre blew out an impatient puff of smoke. “I don’t think helping three males means I have to do the same for everyone. I know what they were thinking, and they were only brave enough to face me because they were starving. Starving enough that they didn’t care I might try to eat them. I think that’s deserving of something. And it’s my coin to give.”

  “They’re taking advantage of you. You don’t know if they were telling the truth. Suppose they’re just lazy?”

  Lamprophyre glared at Rokshan. “Of course I know they were telling the truth, Rokshan. They felt so embarrassed about not being able to work. I can’t fix that, but I can help for now.”

  Rokshan looked at the beggars again. “I guess you would know,” he said. “Let me talk to them, and you go greet your guests. We’ll figure out something.” He laughed. “I didn’t realize how cynical I’d become. You’re a good influence.”

  Lamprophyre blushed faintly purple. “I don’t like seeing people go hungry, that’s all.”

  “That makes you a better person than half of Tanajital. Go. Talk. Be friendly.” He walked away toward the beggars.

  Lamprophyre took a few steps toward the dining pavilion. More people were approaching from the street, enough that their thoughts were a tangled mass impossible to interpret. She blocked them out and faced them with a smile. “I’m Lamprophyre,” she said. “Welcome to my home.”

  Most people arrived, took food, and left again without saying a word to her. Lamprophyre tried not to feel discouraged by this. She focused her efforts on the ones who were willing to talk. Most of them had questions she answered as best she could. She didn’t react angrily at the questions about whether she meant to eat humans or burn Tanajital to the ground. If she were to be angry at anyone over those questions, it should be the unknown enemy who’d planted those thoughts in the people’s heads with his horrible papers.

  “I always thought humans were born from eggs,” she told one female who held a small child in her arms. “That’s how dragons are born. How does it work for humans?”

  The female’s skin reddened the way Rokshan’s did when he was embarrassed. “I, uh, it’s complicated,” she said. “Babi
es grow inside their mother’s body.”

  Lamprophyre’s mouth fell open. “Inside? How do you get them out? Do you expel them the way dragons do their eggs?”

  “Well…”

  Lamprophyre realized she’d stumbled on a taboo topic, or at least not one for polite conversation in public between strangers. How she wished she could listen to this female’s thoughts without being overwhelmed by those of everyone around her. “Never mind, I’ll ask Rokshan,” she said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was an embarrassing question.”

  “Thank you,” the female said, sounding relieved. “You said dragons hatch from eggs? How many eggs does a dragon lay at one time?”

  “Only one. And she won’t lay another egg until the first dragonet is at least thirty, so she can give her child her full attention. I’ve heard humans are the same, though you mature faster than we do.”

  “Excuse me, my lady ambassador,” another female said, “but I heard you are sixty years old and that makes you barely an adult. Why were you chosen as ambassador? Humans wouldn’t give that responsibility to someone only sixteen.”

  She could hardly tell them what Hyaloclast had instructed her to do. “The dragon queen gave me the assignment because Rokshan is my friend, and he and I work well together. And I care about humans and dragons living together in harmony.”

  “That doesn’t match with what we’ve been hearing from the frontier,” a male with thick gray hair on his chin said. “Humans herded into camps, forbidden to spread out…that sounds more like dragons want to see humans subservient. That’s why the Army is there, to protect them.”

  “I don’t know what’s going on in dragon territory,” Lamprophyre said, “but I’m sure it’s more complicated than that. Think about what humans would want if our positions were reversed. If dragons wanted to settle in Gonjiri, wouldn’t you want there to be rules about where they could go to hunt, or where they could live? I know Hyaloclast said humans would be restricted to certain areas, but I doubt they’re being herded like animals.”

  To her surprise, the man nodded like he agreed with her. In relief, Lamprophyre added, “I hope someday humans and dragons will live closer together, as they did centuries ago. We each have so much to offer each other.”

  “Like what?” the male said.

  “Oh.” Lamprophyre’s mind momentarily blanked. “Knowledge about the world. I’ve only just learned how humans use stone for magic—that’s not something dragons do. History, because humans have lost some of that information since the Great Cataclysm. Humans have writing, which dragons don’t, which means you have records that outlast your short lives. I want to learn to read so I can learn from those records. Art and poetry.”

  “What is dragon poetry like?” the female with the child said.

  “I don’t know how it compares to human poetry,” Lamprophyre said, “because I still haven’t heard any. Our poetry has changed many times over the years as people come up with new ideas and techniques. This is one of my favorites.” She cleared her throat and said:

  “The new moon cradled in the old moon’s arms

  Turns the snow blue

  And the stone gray

  While the hidden sun behind the earth warms

  The lands no dragon has ever flown above.

  The snow melts

  And the stone wears

  But our Mother is forever, and her love

  Lives in the snow and the endless stone

  And in the voice that finally calls us home.”

  The stillness that followed her words told her everyone had stopped talking to listen. Embarrassed, she said, “It’s an old poem about Mother Stone. You call her Nirinatan. When a dragon is too old or too sick to take care of herself, she flies up to the highest slopes of Mother Stone, and her bones return to the mountain.”

  “That’s beautiful,” the female with the child said.

  “Thank you.” Lamprophyre wished everyone would stop staring at her. She cleared her throat again and said, “Has everyone had enough to eat? Please, help yourselves.”

  She ducked into the embassy for a moment’s peace and found Rokshan there, talking to Dharan. She hadn’t seen Dharan arrive, and said, “It’s good to see you, Dharan.”

  “I hope you don’t mind that I hid in here,” Dharan said. “I don’t really like crowds.”

  “For all you’re good at conversation,” Rokshan said. “I think things are going well, Lamprophyre. No one’s fled in terror or tried to attack you, and you seem to be getting along well with your guests.”

  “It’s actually fun,” Lamprophyre said. “Humans are interesting, or at least they are when you know nothing about them so every question is new.”

  Dharan chuckled. “That’s wisdom. Lamprophyre, why don’t I meet with you tomorrow morning? We can start reading lessons, and you can come up with more questions about humanity.”

  “I’d like that,” Lamprophyre said.

  Dharan and Rokshan clasped each other’s wrists. “In the morning, then,” Dharan said. “Rokshan, supper tomorrow?”

  “What, I can’t be part of the reading lessons?”

  “Not unless you’ve spontaneously developed patience and tact.” Dharan waved at Lamprophyre and left the embassy.

  “You can come if you want,” Lamprophyre said.

  “No, he’s right, I’d just be impatient,” Rokshan said. “Let’s go out and see if anyone else has arrived. And I haven’t had anything to eat yet.”

  “Neither have I,” Lamprophyre said, “but it might scare people if I tear into half a cow in public.”

  “You have the makings of a wise diplomat,” Rokshan said with a smile.

  Chapter Twenty

  The full moon cast its bright light over the courtyard and the roofs of the embassy and the many, many humans filling the space. It couldn’t be all of Tanajital, but enough people had arrived that Lamprophyre felt satisfied at the success of Rokshan’s plan. She sat outside the embassy door and smiled at people, but it seemed no one was interested in conversation at the moment. That satisfied her, too. She could understand Dharan’s disinclination to be crowded.

  She heard, over the noise of the people, distant music, though not from human voices. And yet it was clearly music, a sequence of high-pitched notes repeated every couple of beats. She stood and looked off down the street, which still had a few humans wandering in her direction. All of them were too close to be the source of the music.

  “Do you hear that?” she asked Rokshan.

  Rokshan bit into a chunk of meat threaded onto a stick. “Hear what?”

  “Music.”

  “Lamprophyre, I’m lucky I can hear you over this din. What music?”

  Lamprophyre hummed the passage of notes. Rokshan fell still. Then he said a handful of words she didn’t know. “That’s the last thing I expected,” he added. “This could ruin everything.”

  “Who is it?” Lamprophyre asked, alarmed.

  “The ecclesiasts,” Rokshan said. “My brother Khadar, to be specific. That’s the Song of the Fifth Ecclesiast, which is Khadar’s rank. Wonderful.” He spoke with such bitterness Lamprophyre’s disquiet grew.

  “Why are you so upset?” she asked. “Let me guess. You don’t get along with Khadar, either.”

  “I don’t, but that’s not why I’m upset,” Rokshan said. “Khadar will make this evening all about him. I’ll wager he intends to make a huge production out of welcoming you to Tanajital, even though you’ve been here a week and the ecclesiasts haven’t bothered to notice you in all that time. He’ll have all sorts of questions for you that you won’t be able to answer, and he’ll turn that into denigrating you and all dragons as less than humans.”

  “How do you know all that?”

  “Because I know how he thinks. He’s always jockeying for position and power. I don’t know why he was chosen as Fifth Ecclesiast, since I doubt he really cares about religion. All the other High Ecclesiasts are nothing like him.” He gripped Lamprophyre�
�s hand. “Look, you need to be really alert now, all right? Keep him answering your questions so he can’t ask any of his own, and let me do as much of the talking as possible.”

  “All right, but I’m not sure why it matters.”

  “It matters,” Rokshan said, “because you have an audience in all these people, all of whom will be overwhelmed by his magnificence enough that they’ll let him shape their opinions. It could destroy all the good work you’ve done tonight. If you and I can keep him off balance, everything will be fine.”

  Lamprophyre clasped Rokshan’s hand in return. “All right, but I’m nervous.”

  “Just be yourself and ask a million questions, and you’ll be fine.” Rokshan released her and walked across the courtyard to stand at the end of the street, watching.

  Lamprophyre paced from one side of the courtyard to the other until she realized her nerves were getting the better of her, and stopped. She wondered if humans had nervous gestures too, and what they might be. Too bad Dharan couldn’t give her lessons in interpreting human body language as well as interpreting those written marks.

  She spoke to a few people, distractedly, until the music was loud enough that even the humans could hear it. One by one, the conversations ceased, and each human turned to face where the street ended at the courtyard. Now Lamprophyre could hear other voices in harmony with the high-pitched notes—except they didn’t sound like voices, not even human ones. They sounded more like the wind chasing through hollow reeds, or birds whistling, or the low O sound of air rushing across a hollow stump. She watched the street, too curious now to be nervous, until the first humans came into view.

  At first, they were too distant and too close together to be more than a mass of moving yellow, lit by torches. Then they neared, and Lamprophyre could distinguish six humans, all of them dressed in yellow robes that obscured their figures, all of them with a peculiar short haircut she’d never seen before, like an upside-down bowl. Granted, there were many human grooming fashions she was unfamiliar with, but the fact that all of them wore their hair the same way suggested that this was a religious thing.