by Maria Grace
“Stop making those sounds that hurt my head. I do not know what they are, but you must stop them.” Anne clambered to her feet and stepped back. “I shall not be going anywhere with you. Now tell me what you are.”
“I am Lady Russell.” That horrid sound continued, and the creature stomped.
Anne spun on her heel and stormed away. Dare she go back to the house? Wherever she went, she had to get away from here and that bird-thing that made her head ache so. Blast it all, the creature was following. “I said leave me alone. Go on! Shoo!”
She picked up her pace, crashing through carefully-maintained flower beds, batting at stalks and blossoms as she went.
There, at the far side of Mother’s gardens, Father’s pride and joy, his conservatory! Yes, she could find refuge within the tall windows and verdant plants. She scurried inside and locked the door behind her. Lungs begging for breath, she fell back against the door, panting. Warm, tranquil air embraced her with the peaceful silence only green and growing things could offer. The scent of fresh soil and quiet, blissful quiet! At last—
Rapping at the window! The creature pecked at the windows.
“Go away! You are not wanted here!” Anne waved the creature off.
“Do show some sense, and let me in. I am Lady Russell.” It scratched at the dirt with long talons, throwing a bit of a fit.
That was rather like Lady Russell.
Anne clutched her head against the stabbing pain behind her ears. “I will call the gamekeeper and have him shoot you, you wretched creature, if you do not leave me alone.”
The creature stopped and took a step back, its long neck pulling back even further. “What do you see when you look at me?”
“Certainly not Lady Russell.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course, I am.” She balled her fists and stomped. “Lady Russell is not a five-foot-tall blue bird with the tail feathers of a peacock.”
The yellow-orange beak hung agape, and its eyes grew even wider. “Is that what you see?”
“Of course not, I am simply making that up because I want to vex you.” Probably not the right thing to say, but—
“That is a bit of a problem, then.” The creature stepped back, hunched, and stood on one foot, tucking the other up into her belly feathers until it all but disappeared. Somehow, she looked as though she were thinking. “Are you certain—”
“Entirely.”
The creature sighed, its long dangling head feathers drooping just a bit. “This does complicate matters. But I should not be surprised, you are, indeed, just like your mother. Pray let me inside, and I shall explain everything.”
“And you will stop calling yourself Lady Russell?”
“That I cannot do. I am your friend and your mother’s friend whom you have known as Lady Russell.”
The world around her threatened to spin again. She gulped in several large breaths. “But you are no lady.”
“No, I am not. I am a dragon.”
“Of course. Naturally, that is absolutely the most sensible explanation for everything!” Nothing she had yet read gave her to expect such a thing. Should she laugh or cry? Both were equally possible right now.
Why were her hands shaking? It was not fear; no, she was not afraid. The blood roaring in her ears, the knots in her belly—that was … anger?
“Do let me in, and I shall tell you everything. I do not like talking to you through this glass.” The creature pecked at the window.
It was an odd feeling; one she had never permitted herself to indulge in. Yes, that was it, she was angry. “I do not appreciate any of this … this charade!”
“I can see that, but there is little that can be done about it with me on the other side of this door. Do let me in.” It rapped the glass again.
“Only if you agree not to make those horrid, hurtful sounds again.”
It cocked its head to and fro. “I suppose you are right. I agree. Now, the door?”
What else was she to do? She opened the conservatory door and ushered the creature in.
It—she?—strolled in with impossibly long steps that were uncomfortably like Lady Russell’s movements, and circled Anne, her head bobbing back and forth as she did. “You do not look well, you know.”
“I do not feel very well, either.”
“Do sit down. There is a bench just over there.” The creature gestured with her wing and sauntered toward it, long talons scraping against the slightly sandy stone floor.
What point in arguing? Anne followed and settled herself on the hard, decidedly lopsided wooden bench—one that was supposed to have been repaired some time ago. Large, deep green bushes flanked both sides, sharp leaves poking at her shoulders. She folded her arms across her chest. “You said you would explain. Pray do so immediately.”
Lady Russell—what else was she to call the creature?—harrumphed and gave her wings a little flap, pacing on tiptoes in front of the bench. “And I will. I am just trying to decide where to begin.”
“Let us start with this. What are you?” Anne looked directly into Lady Russell’s eyes.
Something about the expression was uncomfortably like her friend.
“I am a dragon. A species of cockatrix not native to England, to be precise.”
“I read of those last night, but you look nothing like the pictures in the book.” Was she really having this conversation?
“A rare species, as I said. Your mother and I used to laugh at the pictures in that book—assuming your father gave you the bestiary I am thinking of. While much of the information can be useful, the illustrator was dreadful. I suppose, though, he is not entirely to blame. There are actually quite a few species of cockatrice; we take a variety of shapes and sizes. So, there is no single image of my kind that would be correct. To complicate matters the male, cocks, and female, cockatrix, of our kind are of vastly different forms, so we are often mistaken for other creatures.”
Anne pressed her temples. Too much information. “So, you are a cockatrix?”
“Yes. From Australia. I met my friend, Sir Henry, there, you see. We were so terribly close. He suggested I join him when he returned to England. Thus, I am here.”
“But you have claimed to be Lady Russell, living as Sir Henry’s wife. How is that to be? Dragon Friends, as I understand, persuade others to see them as animals of various sorts.”
Lady Russell harrumphed and fluttered her wings across her back. “If you read your mother’s book, you know—”
“I know dragons hide in plain sight, using their skills of persuasion to affect their disguise. But the text also says that those skills are limited to certain kinds of persuasions.”
“Yes, yes, but my kind are particularly persuasive. We are said to be the most persuasive in dragonkind.” She puffed out her blue not-quite feathered, not-quite-scaled chest.
“It seems you have been lying to me all my life.”
“Not lying, dear girl. Those who do not hear dragons must be persuaded that they do not see them, either.”
“This certainly seems an ill-advised sort of disguise.” Nothing she had read addressed this sort of situation, but—
“Do not judge what you do not understand.” Lady Russell stomped both feet and scratched at the floor. Her talons were particularly impressive. “It began as a bit of a lark, really, Sir Henry’s idea for a spot of fun, to see how far I could take a persuasion. You see, I am able to persuade even the majority of dragon hearers—they do not seem to find it painful as you do. But it worked out so well that we could hardly stop once we had begun. If his wife suddenly disappeared—”
“But everyone on Kellynch has heard you speak whilst believing you to be a lady. I am quite certain few, if any, can hear dragons, yet you converse with everyone quite regularly. How is that possible?”
“Some cockatrix can affect a voice that even the dragon-deaf can hear. I have heard it described as similar to the way a parrot can talk. We are not dumb animals like birds, though, and ar
e entirely aware of what we are saying, so it really is not the same sort of thing.” She straightened her neck and pulled her wings back. “It is a trait that sets us apart from the rest of dragonkind entirely.”
“I have just been presented to the Blue Order.” Anne held up the signet, once her mother’s, now engraved with a number that designated it as Anne’s. “You know of them?”
“Sir Henry did but had little to do with them. They only complicate matters with their endless rules and articles and protocols. Besides, they are scarcely concerned with minor dragons like myself. Their primary concern is with the major dragons, the landed creatures who are apt to war among themselves and with men. That sort of thing causes far more harm than a relatively innocuous creature like myself.” She pressed her wing to her chest.
“Even so, I am not sure it is a good idea.”
Lady Russell shook her head, and the movement coursed like a waterfall down her long neck and back all the way to her tail feathers. “I do not recall asking your opinion. Clearly, you do not understand the nature of minor dragons.” She clapped her beak and shook her head in broad swoops. “But who could hold you accountable for what you must not have yet been taught? Rest assured, I have duly presented myself to Kellynch and have submitted to his rule over this territory. That is really the important thing. In fact, he appointed me to act as his Watcher, what you would call a steward over his lands.”
“Kellynch? You know him?” Anne gasped and gripped the bench with both hands. She might be the only living creature on the estate to have actually interacted with him.
“Of course! You have never been introduced? Well, no, of course not. Why would you be introduced when you did not hear dragons? Banish the thought.”
“Kellynch? Introduced? You mean to say he is awake?”
“No, silly girl. I am sure you would have come into your hearing far sooner if he had been. His voice is so much more powerful than mine, you would have noticed him. He is still deep in hibernation.” Lady Russell stretched her wings and pointed to the door. “Come, now that you hear dragons properly, it is time you should meet him. I am quite certain your father will never manage the task, so I will take you to see him and explain along the way.”
Chapter 8
The creature—Lady Russell as she would now have to accustom herself to calling it—no, not it, but her—gracious, this was all too much!—guided Anne out of the conservatory and onto a path that led into the deep woods where Anne rarely walked.
Large hardwood trees overhung the path, creating a dense, looming canopy overhead. Cool shadows enveloped everything, hushing the normal sounds of the woods. The place felt a bit dark and foreboding, not in the romantical sort of way one read about in novels. But in the sort of way that people of good sense kept away from—exactly why she generally avoided the place. The air, it carried a hint of the scent she had smelt in Bath—there was dragon in the air! Was it even safe to be following a dragon she barely knew into such a situation?
On the other hand, was it fair to say that she barely knew Lady Russell? When was any of this going to begin making sense?
“Where to begin, where to begin,” Lady Russell muttered, her wings ruffling in time with her musing.
“Does Father know you are … what you are?” Anne wrung her hands as she hurried to keep up with Lady Russell’s long strides. What unique footprints her talons left in the soft loam.
“I am quite certain that he does not. Though he hears dragons, he is not fond of them. He would much rather ignore us than acknowledge us. Since it is easier for him not to know my true nature, he is easily persuaded.” Her head bobbed in time with her aggressive steps.
How well she understood Father. “And what of my sisters?”
“Elizabeth does not hear at all, which, if you ask my opinion, is a very good thing indeed. She has not room in her sphere for anyone more demanding than herself—which I will warn you, dragons are. Mary might; I think she will, eventually; but if she does, then she will be very much like your father. It would be no loss since she is as demanding as Elizabeth in her own way.” Lady Russell was nothing if not an excellent judge of character.
Father could handle presenting Mary to the Order himself. “Dragons are demanding?”
“I am certainly not. But major dragons with land holdings can afford to be.” Lady Russell glanced over her shoulder, eyes wide as though just a bit affronted.
“Are they dangerous, these major dragons?” These woods veritably dripped with the sensation that they were.
“Of course, they are! Why do you think there is a treaty to control their behavior? Left to their own devices, they will fight with each other over territory and with men over everything else, to take whatever is convenient.” Why did the question seem to agitate her so?
“If they are so powerful, why would they adhere to something as ephemeral as a treaty?”
She stopped suddenly, but did not turn to face Anne. “Because they are not stupid. At least not most of them. They can see what is in their best interest and act upon that. Dragon wars are bloody, destructive things, and only the biggest, fiercest dragon wins. Everyone and everything else suffers—even the winning dragon after a time. And when dragons war with men,” a shudder rippled down her back, her feathers making an odd rainfall sort of noise, “it is a truly awful thing.”
“You have seen dragon war?” Anne shuddered. The description of the wars in the Blue Order books had given her vivid, gruesome nightmares.
“I hope never to again.” Lady Russell snapped her beak and started off at a trot.
“Are there other major dragons near?” Why could she not recall what the Order’s books had said about territory sizes?
“The next nearest dragon estate is Uppercross. But there are many scattered throughout England.”
Wait, wait, what? Anne nearly tripped over a tree root. “Uppercross has a dragon?”
“The old wyvern is quite a character. I think you will like him very well, once you gain an introduction to him, that is.”
“Does that mean …”
“Yes, yes, the Musgrove boy hears, but no, he does not know my true nature. Since your family believes me to be Lady Russell, it was not difficult to persuade him and his of the same. Uppercross agrees that it would not be a useful thing for him to know—far too easy for the wrong thing to be said in front of your father, complicating matters, and so the issue is settled.”
“What about Wentworth?” Her heart raced harder against her tight chest. Did she even want to know?
“That is of little matter now.”
“I do not agree. Tell me of him.”
“Look, there. Can you see it?” Lady Russell pointed into the forest with her wing. “In the shadows of the undergrowth, that is the entrance to the lair.”
Merciful heavens, dragons were stubborn! Anne squinted, breathing so hard that it was difficult to make out the shadowy tunnel in a hillside behind draping ivy.
“Kellynch has not been out in quite some time, which is why it is covered in vines. The entrance to the lair is usually kept more accessible.”
“You have not answered my question.”
“There are far more important matters right now.” Lady Russell scratched the soft ground with her talons, kicking up dirt on Anne’s skirt. “Have you been to a dragon’s lair before?” She folded her wings across her back with much the same effect as a lady folding her arms over her chest. “There is an etiquette to these things that one cannot ignore.”
“I thought he was sleeping.”
“And the first rule of etiquette is not to wake a sleeping dragon.”
“Then why are we here?” When would she start making sense?
Lady Russell hunched her shoulders and folded into her one-legged thinking posture. “Because he is accustomed to me coming and going and will not be disturbed by my presence.”
“Why would you be coming here?” The leading edge of a headache teased at the back of Anne’s neck. But not
the same sort as before. Impatience fueled this one.
“I check on him periodically and attend to any need he might have, keep tail mites at bay and the like. As his Watcher—”
“What is a Watcher?”
“I monitor his territory and keep it running smoothly.”
“The Order does not seem to agree.” Anne squeezed her eyes shut.
“What would they know about Kellynch’s affairs? Kellynch is satisfied, your father is satisfied, so why should they be bothered?”
All told, it sounded like exactly the sort of arrangement the Order would not be satisfied with. “Do you know why dragons hibernate?”
“Usually it is only when they are not happy—or very cold or facing some sort of danger that is better waited out than fought. Kellynch is the former kind.”
At least that agreed with what the Blue Order had said.
“Kellynch thinks very little of Sir Walter, or of his father before him.”
Perhaps that was why Father thought little of dragons. He did not like anyone who did not recognize his natural superiority. “So, the dragon is unhappy and sleeping now because of it, and one should not call upon a sleeping dragon.” Anne clutched her temples and bowed her shoulders. Breathe, she needed to breathe before the pressure in her chest burst forth in something truly untoward. “Pray then, tell me, why are we here doing just that? You must explain! How did you even become his Watcher when he has been sleeping?”
“I said one should not wake a sleeping dragon, not that one could not call upon one. There is a difference. I called upon him when I arrived. My scent roused him enough for us to make our agreement, and he went back to sleep, satisfied in all regards. And with respect to your other question, sleeping dragons will eventually awaken and when they do, they will need a Keeper to manage their needs.”
“What of my father?”
“Officially, he is the Keeper, I am well aware. But there is little likelihood that he will be able to satisfy Kellynch’s needs any better than his father before him. Where do you think he came by his attitudes?” Lady Russell made an odd sound deep in her long throat and chittered like an angry cat. “Unsatisfied dragons are grumpy, and grumpy dragons are not good for a territory. It is part of my duty to Kellynch to ensure there is a Keeper ready who will satisfy him. That was a condition of him accepting me as his Watcher, one he insisted upon most strongly. I did not know how it was to be accomplished—”