Again, Padma paused before speaking. When she did, it was with an inquisitive voice rather than her usual regal one. “You would rather I had not?”
“So it’s true,” said William, his eyes wide with disbelief. “You changed me without my permission—even without my knowledge. How could you? Do you know what sort of violation that is? You abused my trust, Padma. And you can’t claim ignorance, because you knew enough to ask my permission before you took my blood.”
Padma remained unmoved. “I have read every book your people have given us, and I’ve come to understand the human sense of individuality. Until now, I did not understand that you valued it more than life itself.”
“Of course we do!” William yelled, his voice echoing in the chamber and drawing the attention of the two giant black guard dragons outside. He lowered his voice, though it still shook with rage. “I’m not one of your worker dragons, or even one of your drones. I don’t have the blind devotion to you that they do, and I never will. Even my love for my wife is a conscious decision. If you can’t get what you want from me by agreement, you can’t get it at all.”
Padma lowered her head, a mechanical gesture that he took for at least an attempt at regret. “I apologize, William. Had I known more about humans at the time, I would have asked your permission, as I have done for every other request I have made of you since. Will you forgive me?”
William clenched and released his fists several times, alternating between anger and confusion. He was prepared for everything but an apology. His rehearsed arguments vanished, leaving him faltering for words. “Well…as long as you understand,” he mumbled.
“Shall I explain what I did?” she asked.
“Perhaps you’d better,” he said. “I have to report it to my doctor, or she’ll never speak to me again.”
“Before I was hatched, my hive was attacked by a species that uses acid to dissolve our bodies from within.”
“I remember,” said William. “My friends and I discovered them, and even killed one.”
“So the Elder told me. And you also discovered the means by which their poison could be neutralized, which saved several dragons and allowed us to mount a counter-attack against our adversaries.”
“Well, Maya did that. I just watched.”
“When I was hatched, I invoked a process that was unavailable to the Elder, one that uses significant resources, but protects dragons from illness and injury beyond what our natural bodies provide.”
“What sort of process?”
“Long ago, our ancestors developed tiny devices, small enough that they cannot be seen without powerful magnification, smart enough that they can read genetic material and learn what is required of a specific, living body. Some of your ancient books mention something similar called nanobots, though ours are far more sophisticated.”
“Never heard of them,” said William, his curiosity overcoming his anger. “Did they work?”
“We are no longer under attack, and suffer few enough injuries, but those who do are able to return to their duties in short order. Our hive is growing rapidly because we lose so few dragons now.”
“And these things are inside my body? How long will they last?”
“As long as you are alive, they will clone themselves as needed, maintaining a steady number. Each tiny device spends its short life seeking damaged tissue, repairing it, and creating copies of itself.”
William shook his head in wonder. “This is fascinating, but how could you be sure they would work for me? For that matter, how did you know they wouldn’t be dangerous to humans?”
“Of all the species we have given this gift to, not one has had an unpleasant side effect. We have records of tens of thousands of recipients, and aside from increased appetite none have experienced negative consequences.”
William scratched his chin. “Hmm…Maya suggested I might be eating more because of this. But how do you know there haven’t been other effects? You aren’t even in contact with your people.”
“The Elder, as you know, lived among our people for centuries before he was assigned to this hive. I owe much of my knowledge to him.”
William weighed the information, gazing at her the whole time. “And the only effects of these things—these nanobots—is that they repair damage and make me eat more? Will I live as long as I would have before?”
“In all other senses, your life will be as it would have been otherwise. If anything, you will live longer, as you are protected against injury and illness you might otherwise not survive.”
“And will it spread to other people? My wife? My child?”
“They are instructed not to spread. Only you will receive this gift.”
William shook his head and chuckled. “If you had approached this differently, you could have sold it to us. Maybe you still can. I suspect Maya and her mother would disagree, but I know for a fact people would pay a fortune for this gift, as you call it.”
“I am prohibited from giving it to any but the one from whom I receive my sample.”
“Why give it to me at all then? If you can’t trade it, what’s the benefit of giving it to me for free?”
The sparkles on her body grew more intense. “William, do you not know how precious you are to me? As my donor, keeping you alive for observation would be reason enough. But you are also my eyes on the world of humans. I cannot leave this hive for reasons of safety, and drones do not know humans well enough to be my proxy, but I must know what goes on among your people. Rather than allow a multitude of humans into these caverns, I far prefer to maintain contact with one trusted member of your species: you.”
“You make it sound like those aren’t the only reasons.”
“They are reason enough. But beyond this, William, I like you. I find our conversations both stimulating and fruitful. I regret not seeking your consent, and if I could reverse it, I would. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
William shuffled his feet on the stone floor, kicking up small amounts of dust as he avoided her gaze. He had come here with the intent of chastising her, but she’d stolen the opportunity by immediately agreeing with him. At the same time, it was a violation of such enormity that it warranted more than simple forgiveness. He wanted more, a concession of sorts, proof that she understood the enormity of what she had done to him.
He looked up again. “Obviously, I need you to promise you’ll never do this or anything like it again to me or any other human without our informed consent.”
“Of course,” she said, her eyes sparkling more than usual.
He took a deep breath and plowed forward. “Also, if and when you return to your people, I want you to argue that this policy be adopted by all your species—that no sentient creature be given these nanobots without their knowledge and agreement.”
The sparkles faded. “I cannot promise my people will agree to this, William. I am but one dragon, a single queen among millions. To claim that I could convince them all would be a lie.”
“I’m not asking for a promise that you’ll succeed—only that you’ll try. That you’ll advocate for it, whether or not you succeed.”
She paused. Longer than ever before. The shimmering pattern of her scales pulsated for several seconds as William waited.
“I agree,” she said finally.
It wasn’t until William exhaled that he realized he had been holding his breath the whole time. “Thank you,” he said.
“You are most welcome. As I said, I like you, and it pains me that I upset you, especially since you’ve done so much for me and my people. Such as fostering my peculiar offspring.”
“You mean Clyde?”
Her sparkles returned. “Is that what you named him?”
“Yes. I thought of it after he—well, never mind. It’s not important.”
“And how has he fared under your care?”
William smiled as he recalled how much the young dragon had changed. “He’s healthy now. It turns out meat isn’t good for him. He eats plan
ts and soil now, and he thrives on it. He’s grown stronger, flies, and even speaks a little, almost like a human child.”
“A dragon who eats no meat?” asked Padma. “I doubt even the Elder would have guessed this in time to save him. It was most fortunate that you did.”
“We were lucky, to be honest,” said William. “If he hadn’t ransacked my garden, we might never have guessed either.”
“Now that we know, perhaps it is time he returned to the hive.”
William felt a dropping sensation, worse even than during one of Adonis’s dives. “If you think it best,” he said in a soft voice.
Padma waited a moment before answering. “Or perhaps he could remain with you a little longer,” she said. “If you don’t mind the extra burden. I can increase the payment in iron if that will help.”
William nodded quickly. “That would be acceptable.”
The dragon queen feigned relief. “I will have the Ambassador arrange it. I was reluctant to take him back, knowing how poorly he would fit in here.”
“Now hold on a second,” said William, his brows furrowed in irritation. “Not that I want him to leave, but nothing’s wrong with Clyde that time won’t fix. And even if he’s broken somehow, he’s still one of you. Don’t you feel any responsibility toward him? You’re his mother, for king’s sake.”
Padma’s eyes turned cold, the light that normally shone from them disappearing completely. “I am aware of his parentage, William Whitehall. You need not remind me. But any responsibility I bear for him is overridden by my duty to the hive itself, and a dragon such as he could pose a threat to us.”
“How?” asked William, his voice rising again. “Even if he never learns to work, even if he was totally useless, what threat could he be to you or any other dragon?” He glared at her, daring her to answer.
“You forget what knowledge I have access to. The same knowledge that allows me to extract genetic information from the sample you gave me also allows me insight into the nature of any member of my hive. It is not perfect information, but it provides reliable guidance in assigning dragons to their tasks.”
“What has that got to do with him being a threat? At most he’ll be a burden, and not much of one either, considering he doesn’t eat meat.”
“Tell me truthfully, William…how did you come to be injured?”
William paused for a moment, taken aback by her directness. “I told you. We were chasing rebels, and they had no intention of being caught. I wasn’t the only one who was injured. My butler—my friend—was killed.”
“And one of these rebels injured you?” Her eyes flashed again with what looked like amusement. “By impaling you with a large piece of wood?”
William hung his head. “No,” he said. “It was an accident.”
Again, her eyes sparkled. “What sort of accident?”
He looked up again, this time with an accusing glare. “You’re asking me as though you already know.”
“Of course I know. My drones report all they see. Besides, I’ve known about your ward’s destructive potential since before he was hatched. Had I known you intended to go on such a dangerous mission, I would have advised you not to take him.”
“What are you talking about? What destructive potential?”
“It cannot have escaped your notice that he is unusually strong.”
“Well yes, but I assumed all dragons are.”
“Not like he is. And he will only grow stronger as he continues to thrive.”
“But that’s a good thing, isn’t it?” he asked, befuddled.
“Not when you account for how clumsy he is. If he had a drone’s intellect—or even that of a black guard dragon—he could avoid being dangerous to his hive mates, and perhaps even be useful.”
William stared at her, unable to believe his ears. “Excuse me? To his hive mates?” he asked. “What about to me? Are you telling me you’ve known he could be dangerous since before he hatched?”
“I am,” she said.
“And you still let him come home with me?” he asked. “Why? You just said you want me to live, but you sent me home with a dragon you were too scared to keep yourself! That’s a nasty way of trying to keep me alive, Padma.”
She rose on her hind legs, a violent, threatening gesture, her head nearly reaching the rocky ceiling. Wings spread, she began to glow with a brilliance that forced him to shield his eyes. “Do not insult me, William Whitehall!” Her voice boomed, deeper than he would have believed possible, and yet still soft and feminine. “We are friends, but I will not tolerate insolence!”
He staggered back, shocked at such a display. But despite her warning, his anger remained. “Look, I’m sorry I yelled at you,” he said with a wavering voice. “But my question stands. Why would you send me a dragon who had the potential to hurt me?”
Mollified, she returned to her usual posture, all trace of indignation dismissed. “It is far more complicated than you could know. Before he went home with you, I did not expect him to live. Remember that I had invoked our healing devices, and still he did not thrive. Whatever ailed him was likely fatal in my estimation. So, any potential threat I detected in him was no more than that—a potential that could never be realized. But I also sensed you might be able to help him more than I could, not simply because he shares a small sliver of common ancestry with you, but because you are so different from us, and that you might think of things that would never occur to my people. And I was right—he thrived under your care, far more than I dared hope. And in my complacency, I was unaware of this. Had I known, I would have recalled him, or at least shared my knowledge with you so you could assess the risk yourself. This was my error, and it nearly cost both of us dearly. But now that you know the truth, I ask again whether you still wish to keep him longer.”
Well…did he? He paced the length of the den, avoiding her gaze as he pondered the question. When he first took Clyde, he lived alone, aside from Oz and Mrs. Gracey. He had no wife, and wasn’t expecting a child. And he had no reason to believe Clyde capable of hurting anyone, whether by chance or design. But things were different now, and the risk was no longer his alone.
He smiled to himself as he recalled the trouble Oz had controlling Clyde, even before the dragon began to recover. They both grew so much in such a short time, after such poor starts.
He turned and looked Padma in the eye. “Clyde,” he said.
“Pardon?” she asked.
“You keep saying ‘him.’ He has a name.”
“We don’t use names, William. You know that.”
“And I’m beginning to understand why,” he said. “When you name something, you’re showing it matters to you, that you have a reason to distinguish it from everything else. Clyde isn’t just another dragon, any more than you are. Yes, I’ll keep him. He may be a big, dumb oaf, but that’s what people said about my butler. And for most of his life, Oz acted like one. But he ended up being one of the best people I’ve ever known, and I think that’s because I stopped treating him like the person everyone thought he was. He lived up to my new expectations, and then some. And Clyde will do the same. I’m going to prove you wrong about him, Padma. I’m going to show you he can be a productive member of a dragon hive, or a Lord’s barony, whichever one he ends up with.”
“If anyone—human or dragon—has the power to do it, it is you, William.”
William sighed. She’d done it again—defeated his argument by agreeing with it. “You can be pretty frustrating to talk to, you know that?”
She made a sound something like a chuckle. “I hope that won’t stop you from continuing to speak with me.”
He picked up his pack, and with a laugh and a wave, he turned to leave. “Not a chance,” he said. “Frustrating or not, you’re too interesting. I’ll see you in forty days. But right now, I’ve got urgent business at home.”
Chapter 37
The new millstone rose smoothly, crated and hauled up on ropes from above like its shattered predecess
or. The stone slipped past the beams with plenty of room to spare, pulled clear with guide ropes from below.
A few busy farmers passed by, casting hurried glances out of curiosity, but continued without stopping. A single child rushed past him with a quick “Hello, my lord.” Clyde paused his grazing long enough to watch the child run away toward the schoolhouse.
William smiled as the stone was pulled in through the third-floor opening. Moments later, a satisfied-looking Ruskin emerged and sauntered his way.
“The stone’s settled in the winch, my lord, ready for dressing. The millwright professes himself happy with it—which he should be, given the quarry-master claimed it was better than the first stone—tried charging me more for it, too, until I told him I’d be just as happy to walk away and leave him with an unsellable eight-hundred-pound doorstop.”
William laughed. “Ruskin, why does it seem you’re at your happiest when you’re making someone else miserable?”
Ruskin smiled in return. “Years of marriage, sir.”
“You were married?” asked William with wide eyes. “How did I not know that?”
“I don’t speak of it much, because there’s not much to tell.”
“I should pay more attention to my employees,” William chastised himself with a shake of his head. “Speaking of which, I’d like to start a search for a new butler as soon as possible. Once we have the right person, we can start filling the other positions.”
Ruskin did nothing to hide his relief. “Excellent, sir. I’ll talk to a few people in town this weekend. I assume we’ll be looking for someone a little more, uh…qualified?”
A smile crept across William’s lips. “If I said no, I’d have both Melissa and Mrs. Gracey to answer to—not to mention you.”
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