by Effie Calvin
“Esofi—”
“Where should I hold on?” Esofi asked Ivanedi, turning away from Adale to appraise the spot where his long neck joined with his back. She could probably get her legs around it, but she’d have to hold tightly to his neck.
“I promise you that no harm will come to her,” Ivanedi told Adale. “Perhaps, when we return, she will even be improved.”
Adale pressed her lips together and raised one eyebrow. “I’m going to want an explanation for all this once you get back.”
“And you’ll get one. I promise,” said Esofi.
It took a few minutes to get onto Ivanedi’s back safely. Her hands gripped the spines on his neck, and she hoped it would be enough to keep her in place while they flew. If not…
Well, at least the spines were blunt, and did not cut into her palms. She pulled her heavy winter cloak around herself and tried to sink deeper into it.
“Are you ready?” asked Ivanedi.
“I think so.”
Without another word, Ivanedi launched himself into the air. Even knowing that it had been coming, Esofi felt a scream escape from her mouth. She risked a glance downward, at her boots dangling over empty air, impossibly far above the sparkling sea, and fought down the urge to be sick.
But she did not fall, even though the wind ripped at her as though it was trying to steal her cloak away. Was this what the couriers dealt with every single day? Perhaps they hadn’t been paying them enough after all.
And Ivanedi was still rising, approaching one of the distant peaks Esofi had not thought twice about, except to briefly admire its height. She distracted herself by thinking about how tangled her hair would be once they landed. At least none of the dragons would notice, or care.
Soon enough, Ivanedi came in for a landing on a high, broad plateau.
“What is this?” asked Esofi, sliding down from his neck and looking around.
“This is the highest point in the Isles. We come here to hear our mother’s voice in times of great struggle. It was here that she told Zethe to turn away from his path, before countless witnesses.”
Esofi turned her face toward the edge. There was nothing there to protect her if she slipped. “What did he say in response?”
“Nothing,” said Ivanedi. “Nothing, until she had gone. And he said we would proceed as planned. That once Men were gone, she would have no choice but to love us again.”
Esofi walked toward the center of the plateau, trying to imagine a host of dragons gathered here, perhaps under a silver moon, listening for Talcia’s guidance.
“He thought that killing every Man on Inthya would be easier than just obeying her?” asked Esofi.
“We seldom behave rationally when we are in pain,” said Ivanedi. “Men and dragons alike.”
Esofi moved away from the center and took a few cautious steps toward the edge, toward the ocean. The wind ruffled her hair, and she slid to her knees, not trusting herself not to trip over the edge. In the distance, she could see something tiny and pale on the water.
“I think I can see our ship,” she murmured. “It’s mapping the smaller islands. I didn’t realize how many there really are. The maps show so few.” There were certainly more than that, though—perhaps as many as fifty. Some were so tiny Esofi was not sure if they were islands or large stones that would disappear when the tides changed.
“Do you think more Men will come here?”
“I was not planning on sending any,” said Esofi. “I know these islands are yours. I don’t want to encroach on your lands. I’d like to come back again, when it’s warmer, so Carinth can spend more time with you. But we’re not planning a settlement, if that’s what you’re thinking of.”
“The thought had crossed my mind. Men do so love to build things.”
“Yes, I suppose we do. Nevertheless…”
They sat there in silence for a while, watching the sea glitter. Far below, Esofi could see birds flying over the water, carried on currents of warm air.
“May I ask you a question?” asked Ivanedi.
“Why, yes,” said Esofi. “Of course. What is the matter?”
“What have you brought to our island?”
“The…the ship?” Esofi’s eyes went to the Courser, below. “It’s just a passenger ship, I promise there are no weapons, beyond the standard for such—”
“No,” said Ivanedi. “Your attendant. The one who wears a mortal woman’s body.”
Esofi turned away from the beautiful view before her. “How did you know?”
“I have had my suspicions since your arrival. But when she healed you, I was certain.” Ivanedi paused. “For a time I thought…I hoped…she was our mother, come back to us in a new form.”
Esofi rubbed her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought her. I didn’t think.”
“You are even more remarkable than I thought, to have her as your servant.”
“Elyne is not my servant,” said Esofi firmly. “She goes where she pleases and does what she wants. I consider myself fortunate she has consented to travel with us for a little while.”
“She has made quite an impression on some of our younger ones,” said Ivanedi, turning his head in the other direction, toward what Esofi assumed was the gathering place they’d left behind.
“I understand she seeks worshippers,” said Esofi. “Her temperament is…not what I would expect, but she seems amicable and slow to anger. I do not know what sort of blessings she grants, but I don’t think she’ll do you any harm.”
“I do not either,” said Ivanedi. “She is very much like our mother.”
“Really?” Esofi’s impression of Talcia had been that she was quiet and dignified and a bit frightening. Elyne was…quite the opposite. But perhaps Ivanedi knew something Esofi did not. “What makes you say so?”
“It is difficult to explain, in your language,” he said. “But she gives the impression of how our mother would have been as a hatchling. If she had ever been one.”
The description made Esofi smile. “I will learn your language so you can explain it to me properly.”
“You may find it difficult,” he said. “Some ideas require wing-movement to be conveyed correctly. And there are words to learn that your kind have no words for.”
“I expected that,” said Esofi. “It is the same with the Mer.” She did not speak any of the Mer languages, but she understood that they had words for concepts relating to water and weather than Men did not, and they used their tails to communicate as much as their voices. “You don’t have a written alphabet, do you?”
“No,” said Ivanedi. “It is not our way.”
Esofi had expected that as well. Even if the dragons had been inclined to write, it would be difficult when they were so large and the rest of the world so small. “Still, I wish to learn. Both for Carinth, and to understand you better.”
They lapsed into silence again.
“Do any of your kind have blessings from other gods?” asked Esofi. “Merla, or perhaps Eyvindr? I once met a unicorn with Iolar’s magic.”
“If they do, I have not heard of them,” said Ivanedi. “Merla cares little for us, since many of us have killed her children. I do not think she would grant one of us her blessing.”
“She hardly ever gives Men her blessing either. I thought that since she and Talcia have such similar natures, she might like dragons better. What about lesser gods?”
“We respect Lady Nara, for we fly in her skies. But she has no blessings to grant that we are not already hatched with, and she has not spoken to any of us in living memory. In Anora and the surrounding lands, there are creatures you call dragons. But they are very different from us. We cannot have hatchlings with them.”
“Oh yes. I think I’ve seen illustrations.” Dragons in Anora were wingless but had short legs and very long bodies, similar to serpents.
“Some mistake them for our cousins, but we have no parent in common. They were made by Ethi and Ridon working together. Our simila
rities are only superficial. They are very orderly and gentle, and they accumulate wisdom instead of wealth.” Ivanedi paused. “Perhaps we could learn something from them. Do you remember the books I told you about?”
“The ones you collected when you were young?”
“Yes. If I brought them to you, do you think…”
“Yes!” said Esofi. “Yes, I could read them for you. If that’s what you want.”
“I can read well enough. It is the act of opening them and turning pages that I find difficult.”
“I’d be glad to help,” said Esofi. “Where do you keep them?”
Chapter Eleven
ADALE
It was irrational, since Ivanedi had been nothing but a gracious host, but watching Esofi and Ivanedi fly away was gut-wrenching. Adale knew Esofi was more than capable of defending herself if the worst should happen, but her parents would be furious if they learned about this.
Once they’d disappeared from Adale’s line of sight, she turned away. Carinth was still playing with Etheriet and some of the younger dragons, and it looked like Mireille had managed to get herself included in the game as well. She seemed to have no reservations about getting on the ground and letting them climb all over her. Adale expected that her dress would be in ribbons by sunset.
Orsina, as always, watched everything from a far enough distance that she could see almost everything that was going on, stoic as any castle guard. Meanwhile Elyne sat on a rock, knees drawn up. Balanced on them was a sketchbook, and when Adale crept around to see what she was working on, she caught a glimpse of a few figure drawings of dragons before Elyne caught sight of her and quickly blocked Adale’s view with her own body.
“I’m so bad at this,” sighed Elyne. “Even after months of practice.”
“Can’t you just…you know, imagine it, and make it appear on the page?” asked Adale.
“I could, but there’s no point in that. And it seems unfair, since my followers work so hard at honing their skills.” Elyne closed the book and tucked it back into her bag. “Now may I ask why Esofi tried to bite her own hand off?”
“I’m not sure myself. I think Ivanedi said something that upset her.”
“She can’t have been that upset, if she flew off with him.”
“I know she feels guilty. About all the dragons she’s killed before, I mean. And I understand why, but I don’t understand why. If that makes any sense at all. Yes, it’s terrible that it had to happen, but it’s not as though she went out and did it for fun. And if she hadn’t, they’d have killed her instead.”
“Well, I can’t help with that,” Elyne said. “But none of the dragons are angry with her. A little jealous, maybe. But they aren’t thinking about revenge.”
“That’s about what I thought,” sighed Adale. “And I’ve been telling her so! It just doesn’t seem to matter.”
“Maybe she just needs to feel guilty for a while, then.”
Maybe Elyne was correct. But Adale felt certain Esofi should not have to feel guilty at all. It wasn’t fair, and she didn’t deserve it.
It was about noon when Esofi and Ivanedi returned. Esofi was smiling and holding a pile of books to her chest.
“What are all those?” asked Adale as Esofi nearly fell off Ivanedi’s back and onto the ground.
“Ivanedi’s been keeping books this whole time,” said Esofi. “But he can’t get them open, because of his claws.”
“How old are they?”
“He collected them when he was young, so at least a hundred years old. I was afraid they’d be ruined. A cave isn’t the sort of place for books. But they’re actually in very good condition, considering.”
Adale wanted to ask if he also kept treasure in his cave, but that seemed rude, and she was afraid he might get the wrong idea. She’d bring it up later, once they were back on the ship.
Carinth knew books usually meant someone was going to read him a story, and had come over as soon as Esofi touched the ground. Etheriet clearly had no idea what was going on, but she followed him over.
“Do you want to see?” asked Esofi, turning the book so that Etheriet could examine it more closely. The young dragon sniffed at the leather cover, then pulled back, nose wrinkling in clear disdain. Esofi laughed at this reaction.
“This one looks like stories of the gods,” said Esofi, opening it very carefully. “But it’s written in Sibari. If I hold it and turn the pages, Ivanedi can read it himself.”
Adale picked up one of the other books and opened to a random page, only to find herself staring down a fully colored illustration on vellum. “Oh. This one looks…important.”
“I stole it from a man who had many like it,” said Ivanedi. “I do not think he missed it.”
RETURNING TO THE ship at night was like going to another world—though a very pleasant one that had cooked food and hot baths. Up in the mountains, it was easy to forget about everything that waited for them back at Birsgen.
It was easy to forget Birsgen existed at all.
The ship’s crew was keeping busy with their assignment. There were many more islands than anyone had realized, even though most of them were so small someone could walk around them in about an hour. Still, Esofi wanted them all documented.
Ivanedi said dragons—and other creatures—did live on the smaller isles, with the most solitary dragons making their nests farthest away from the main island. But he’d promised that no dragons would attack the ship, so long as the sailors did not approach their lairs. So far, there had been no problems.
There had been more sightings of gryphons, sometimes in the forests but usually in the skies high above, their shapes unmistakable. They did not approach and, in fact, gave no impression they had more than a cursory interest in their strange visitors. Adale hoped they’d decided Men were too large to bother trying to eat.
That night, Esofi sat before the fire, warming her hands. Carinth was settled in her lap, though occasionally he lifted his head and tried to get at her mug of spiced wine. Every time he did, she pressed one fingertip to his nose and guided it back down.
She already seemed so much happier. Whether it was her conversation with Ivanedi or just the fact that they were out of Gaelle’s reach, Adale was not certain. Perhaps both.
“Come sit with us,” called Esofi. Adale did not need to be asked twice, even though her aching legs would have preferred to remain on the bed.
“I remembered something today that I haven’t thought about in a while,” said Esofi as Adale settled next to her.
“What was it?”
“When my sisters and I were young, Mother would bring us up into the mountains every time they had a dragon sighting. It wasn’t terribly often, never more than once or twice a year. Talking to Ivanedi reminded me of it.”
“That sounds dangerous,” commented Adale.
“I suppose it was,” said Esofi, sounding surprised, as though this had never occurred to her before. “In any case, the dragons could not be allowed to stay on our land, or else they’d start taking livestock. And then when the livestock ran out, they’d carry off people.”
“And that’s how you learned to fight dragons?”
Esofi nodded. “It was frightening, at first. But I suppose anything can become ordinary if you do it often enough.”
Adale was not sure what to say, but Esofi did not sound as though she needed consolation. She was simply recounting the past.
“At the time, I wondered why the dragons didn’t learn not to bother us,” added Esofi. “But when I said so, I was told there was no reason to expect sense or understanding from dragons. Now I realize they were simply young and reckless.”
“Not to agree with your mother, but she was probably right about them taking livestock. It’s sad it had to end in killing, but…”
“I know.” Esofi sighed. “And they’re so pragmatic about it! Ivanedi even said it was good we killed them before they had a chance to have foolish hatchlings.”
“I shouldn’t l
augh at that, should I?” But a smile pulled at Adale’s lips nevertheless. “But I suppose your philosophy has to be a bit cutthroat when you live in the wilderness. Or do you think Talcia means for you to change them?”
“No, I don’t,” said Esofi. “In fact, I suspect Talcia might agree with them. She’s nearer to being a dragon than a woman, no matter how many woman-shaped statues we carve.”
Adale rested a hand on Carinth’s head. “Even so, I’m glad Carinth doesn’t have to live like that.”
“I am too.” Esofi gazed down at Adale’s hand. “I think…I don’t regret that I was raised to be strong. But at the same time, I believe it could have been accomplished without cruelty.”
“I think you’d have been strong no matter what,” asserted Adale. “Just like I’d have been useless no matter what.”
“Don’t speak about yourself that way.” Esofi’s hand gripped hers. “You’re always saying such terrible things about yourself. I hate to hear it.”
“Iolar hates liars.”
“Since when did you have a care for what Iolar hates?” Esofi bumped Adale’s shoulder with hers. “In any case, you’re wrong—you’re certainly not useless.”
“You’re biased.”
Esofi laughed again, a beautiful and melodious sound that Adale had heard far too little of since Gaelle’s arrival. “Because I love you?”
“Yes, exactly. You understand.”
“Do you think I’d rather you be exactly like me?” asked Esofi. “And instead of you making me laugh, we could just get ourselves worked up into fits of hysteria until our hearts give out from the strain?”
“Maybe not,” Adale whispered, embarrassed.
“Maybe not.” Esofi pressed her forehead to Adale’s. “Maybe think on that a little longer.”
AMONG THE DRAGONS, Etheriet was obviously Carinth’s best friend. She waited for them at the top of the forest path every morning, though she never ventured into the trees alone. Though many dragons came to the clearing, Adale never saw one with her striking color, a rich crimson that reminded her of castle livery back home.