by Sam Hall
I looked at the others. Jez nodded but Flea’s eyes remained slitted, looking over the council members. “OK.”
“Now, to become a citizen with the rights of a dragon-rider, you’ll need to go through the requisite training—.”
“I knew there’d be a bloody catch,” Flea growled.
Graves held his hand up. “It will be greatly shortened. Most riders spend three years training but…” he waited for our disputes to drop away, “but, as you have no intention in taking your place in the armed forces or bureaucracy, we are happy to reduce this down to three months.”
“Three months. You’re not going to let me leave for three months?”
“You always have option 1. We are making considerable concessions, Ms McKinnon. What we are suggesting is unprecedented. It will take us at least that time to set up the requisite treaties and do the paperwork,” Grave said.
“Fine,” I said, “but you’re going to need to return my friends to the portal. And I need all of this in writing.”
“The paperwork outlining the deal will be drawn up in triplicate before the end of the day. As your friends were not requested to attend, you are welcome to purchase them a return flight or go via caravan.”
“Purchase? I can get them home and be back in time for the paperwork,” I said.
“You are not authorised to leave Aravisia for the three months training as discussed. You’ll need your dragon for the flight to Lohirikam University this afternoon. I’ll have Joon take you to the closest travel agency to set up transport.”
Shall I burn the man thing? M said. This is not the Aravisia I remember. It seems to be drowning in red tape and paperwork.
Probably not worth it. Let’s just hope we have enough gold on us.
10
Of course, we didn’t.
“Four thousand gold pieces,” the man in the travel agency drawled. “There’s two dragons going in the hour and another in the morning. You want me to book ‘em in?”
“Four thousand? As in four-oh-oh?”
“You’re missing an oh, Tess,” Jez said, “and so am I. I thought this place would be chock-a-block full of horny were-dragons who’d become part of my gang banging harem.”
“Four thousand each, lady. You want the flights or not?”
“What about these caravans?” The man’s eyebrows shot up, then he burst out laughing. “What? What’s the problem with them?”
“You wanna get some serious life insurance, love. The success rate is getting better, I grant ya, but still, only 70% of them make it to their destination. It’s over 800 kilometres of track between here and Bordertown, it’s gonna take days, and unless you’ve got pals in the export business and can jump in one of them armoured vans, your chances aren’t great. Them flyboys, they’re all safe on their damned animals. Don’t care too much about the ground crawlers, even if it’s us that’re bringing in the medicines and delicacies from the outside world.” He shook his head but peered at his computer monitor. “You want me to book it or what?”
“What the hell are we going to do,” I said as we walked away from the kiosk. “Kayla—?”
“Klara,” the Aravisian official corrected me.
“Is this the cheapest agency here?”
She nodded. “I assumed you were looking for value for money. We travel rarely as a people, so costs are high.”
“So what the hell do I do with my friends when I go and do the basic training the Dread Lord Grave is insisting on? We’re going to have to sacrifice the portal. I can’t believe we’re never going to see Natty again and I just set up all those trade deals with Sariah and Rye…”
“To never return to Aravisia…” Miazydar looked around him as if trying to memorise his last look at it.
“Well, students attending Lohirikam University often bring retainers with them to see to their needs,” Klara said.
“Yeah, we’re not doing that,” I said.
“Well…” Jez said.
“No, no, I’m not putting you guys in a position of powerlessness in a place that seems to have more than its fair share of fucksticks. Definitely not,” I said.
“Surely, that’s for us to say,” Flea said.
“You hated the whole idea of coming here and you brought a bag full of weapons,” I whispered out the corner of my mouth. “We’re not going through this again, no way. I decline this quest, we’ll find another one that’s safer and more fun.”
“It’s only for three months. You’ll have the bit of paper to shut these dicks up and can go swanning about the continent without the threat of dismemberment by plasma spear. I can pick up some dirty socks and do some dusting in a French maid’s uniform for a bit,” Flea said. “Anyway, you staying here on your own with those fuckwits about to execute you for something you had no control over? I’d much rather be here.”
“Great, so we’re doing this?” Jez said. She looked around wistfully. “Damn, instead of hilarious sexcapades, I get to be Dobby at Dragonwarts.”
By the time we arrived back at what was apparently the Aravisian Grand Council building, the paperwork had been done with the deal outlined. I read through it and so did the guys, before signing it. “An escort will take you to Lohirikam. Pass all of the core subjects and return here in three months and your visa will be ready for you,” Grave said.
“I need a message sent to Bordertown,” I said. “You don’t want my sister coming looking for us, she’s just as much a recipient of my grandmother’s spell as I am. Don’t want any more unregistered dragons popping up.”
“Of course, leave it with Klara and we will make sure it reaches your contact, Natty.”
So off we went again. Lohirikam Uni and its surroundings looked quite different than the city. It was enclosed by paddock after paddock of cattle and sheep looking animals and held a few of those tall stone structures spread around the main building. The uni was gothic in design, the pointed roofs dotted with carvings of dragons with soaring arches and a massive stained glass window on the front approach. A big burly man dressed in a suit waited at the entrance once we had landed. His eyes only widened slightly as Miazydar shivered and reduced his size but stayed in dragon form. One of the dragon riders came forward and discussed something quietly with him before handing him a roll of paper. The man nodded, then gestured for us to come forward.
“Miss McKinnon?”
“Yep.”
“Vice-Chancellor Bhechro, and these are your porters?”
“No, these are my friends who will stay here as porters, Flea and Jez.”
“As you wish. They can stay within your suite or in the staff dormitory.”
“With me.”
“Very well, we’ll show you around and then set you up with a timetable and accommodation.” Bhechro nodded to the riders, who then turned to head back. “Your dragon can wait here, or take one of the unoccupied eyries. They are marked with yellow flags.”
“I’m coming on the tour,” M said.
“Oh, well, of course, Great One, come through.”
The place was massive. We walked through the main doorway that looked big enough to fit Miazydar in his original form. Inside the building was one huge, open atrium giving you an excellent view of the three stories on either side. The ground floor appeared to be some kind of common area, filled with couches and side tables, throw pillows and rugs, though there were some classrooms on both sides that appeared to be gyms or dojos. It was mostly empty, with only a few students pouring over books.
“Lohirikam once housed its dragons in between the two main buildings,” Bhechro said with a wave of his hand, “but we found this caused unnecessary conflict.” His eyes slipped to M and then back to the architecture. “The two were combined and dragon accommodation was provided outside, as you might have seen on your way in.”
Interesting, M said, one wonders why this shift?
“We will allocate your classes for you today, but most are on the first floor with the rest of the first-year students. There
will be several other prospective riders there, but the majority are merit-based students. I’m not sure how universities are run in your world, but I think you’ll find here that the class environment is a competitive one.” Bhechro turned to look at me, his brown eyes staring coolly into mine. “If you hope to make friends, I would abandon that. Every single one of the 400 odd merit students will be looking at you, your performance, your dragon and trying to prove that they are more deserving, that the bond slicer,” he jerked his head to a big medieval-looking sword hanging up on the wall, “will be used against you and that they earn the privilege to stand by your dragon’s side.”
“And what of the dragons?” Miazydar said. “What say do they have over the running of this dragon rider mill?”
The VC stilled, looking at M much more closely now. His eyes ran over the reduced form of my dragon and just looked. For what? Signs of intelligence, magic? It was like he’d lost all ability to function until his mind had solved the problem of Miazydar.
“Dragons have had no say as they make little comment on any aspect of life, except to request specific foods, to complain about tasks, or to express dislike of certain people or dragons. If they had demonstrated a capacity for anything other than merely getting their needs met, then, of course, consultation would take place.”
“One might also ask why dragons don’t engage in higher thought. It was not always the case,” M replied.
“Is this tied to your claim of being Rozenrrath? Because I really don’t have time for delusions. I was instructed an hour ago to make room for another student in classes already at capacity, not due to outstanding ability or even social standing, but because this is some form of commuted sentence. I will show you the History faculty on our way up and you can pursue that line of thought with the History of Dragonology lecturer if he has the time. Now, onto the classrooms.”
We were then taken on a whirlwind tour, whisked past classrooms full of students either scribbling down notes, conducting what looked like a cross between magic and science experiments. We were shown the faculty rooms, but The History lecturer wasn’t there so Miazydar missed his opportunity to discuss his concerns. When we came back to the ground floor, students filed in, picking up armour and weapons, obviously about to learn the art of fighting. I hung back as we walked past the fighting classes, relieved to see the style was in some ways similar to the one I’d learned in Battle Club. The tour ended where we had started, though Bhechro steered us towards a desk against the right-hand wall where a woman sat typing rapidly into a computer.
“Ah, Kelern, this is the new student I spoke to you about.” Her cat-like eyes took me in before she bent down and tore a scroll from what looked like a printer.
“Elementary History, Elementary Geography, Elementary Battle Skills...” she said, her finger moving down the list of inscrutable symbols.
“Hang on, I don’t read Aravisian. I’m going to need to write this down,” I said. Kelern looked at the VC, then me and then sat there, staring implacably as I opened up a note on my phone. “So Elementary History... Where is that and at what time?”
“You need to take this and this up to the Celestial Record on Floor Three,” the woman said, shoving the paper at me. “They can provide you with a translation of this into whatever backward language you’re used to. You’ll also need this,” she added another sheet to the pile. “These are the required texts. You are going to have to submit your assignments into Standard Modern Aravisian though. Lecturers do not accept work in other languages or dialects. The Record staff will do the best they can with the translation. Good luck with that.”
Oh shit, I thought. I’d been feeling relatively confident before now, having sailed through university without too much effort, but from what she was telling me, I was going to have to submit papers using the equivalent of Babelfish.
“I’ll leave you now in Kelern’s capable hands,” Bhechro said and turned on his heel to go.
Apparently, Kelern wasn’t looking after us for long. “I’ll call Scalla down in a minute, she’ll take you to the Record and then to your accommodation,” she said with a dismissive glance. “You’re out in one of the cottages near the eyries. It's cold and shit out there, but you can’t expect much, waltzing in here this late in the term. All the meals for students are provided in the dining hall on the right, down the corridor. You’ll hear the bell.”
“And for my friends?”
“Porters?” She wrinkled her nose. “Tends to only be the rich that brings them. You have to pay for their upkeep, gets put on your fees, payable on graduation or no degree for you. I guess you could send them down to the village to get supplies if you wanted to, but it’s a fair walk. Ask one of the dragon riders in your class. It’s not something we merits have to deal with all that often. Anyway, here she is.”
“Well, she was a bitch,” Jez hissed.
“Yes, but shh. It’s just my luck she’ll be grading my papers.”
“Nah, looks like a glorified door bitch to me,” she said, looking over her shoulder where Kelern seemed to be working very intently at her computer.
“Outside accommodation is what we want. Probably nothing more than a shitty old shack but a lot better than sleeping in general pop,” Flea said, eyes scanning the different floors. “All these people, wanting your dragon. Somewhere away from the masses is a good thing.”
“I agree,” Miazydar said. “These eyries are definitely a modern invention, but they do provide a defensible position and an easy spot to swoop down and obliterate enemies. We aren’t safe inside here.”
“Defendable? Against what? The bloody spike throwing, acid breathing, venom spewing dragon riders? If it comes to that we are fucked!” I whispered back.
“Ah, hi?” We all straightened. Scalla was tall, everyone seemed to be bloody tall here, and had long blonde hair pulled into two ponytails. She waved at us, smiling hesitantly. “I’m supposed to take you to the third floor?”
“Ah yes,” Miazydar said, striding forward, “lead on, please.” Scalla’s eyes bugged, and her mouth dropped open. She squeezed out some really weird sounds I’d never heard a human make them, only cats hurking up hairballs. “All will be well, Scalla. Just take us up to the third floor.”
She recovered quickly, her eyes going all shiny and big like an anime character. “Ohmigod! You are just gorgeous! Can I…” She put out her arms and wriggled her fingers, indicating what she wanted.
“Ah, Scalla, just to the third floor, please,” Miazydar said, edging away.
“Miazydar’s got a girlfriend,” Jez said in a sing-song voice.
“Is your name Miazydar? Can I call you Mizzy?”
“No!”
“But you’re just so cute!”
Kelern looked up from what she was doing with a frown. “Scalla, stop bloody fangirling and get the doomed…I mean student and her flunkies up to the third floor, then escort them to cottage 5.” And with that, she tossed the girl a big key on a keyring.
The Celestial Record was a lot like the one in the Prince’s manor. A blue-skinned humanoid I couldn’t help but think of as female took our requests and produced the written translations in English for me. I looked at it, worried when I saw she had translated what Kelern had called Elementary History into Primary History. Translating was a difficult business, subtleties were often lost and I was worried what kind of gibberish my assignments were going to be turned into in this bilingual process.
We trailed after Scalla, leaving the building to walk out into the grounds proper. The left-hand side seemed to be all about dragons. I glanced up to see several sleeping on the tops of their stone eyries. They were of a similar size to Miazydar, though their scales ranged from dull browns to iridescent greens. The cottages had been built beneath the dragon perches.
“Bigger than I expected,” Flea said with a sniff. It looked cute from the outside, whitewashed walls with exposed wooden supports and a slate roof. Scalla struggled to get the old key in the lock. We all flinch
ed as the tumblers made a horrible screeching sound as she turned it, the door finally popping open.
“Hopefully you’ll enjoy your...” Scalla coughed as she opened the door. We were all hit by a wave of musty air. Scalla waved her hand, trying to force fresh air into her lungs.
“Well, you’ll be glad you kept us,” Jez said, having taken a step inside. It wasn’t tiny, but it was obviously old and hadn’t been maintained. Dust lay in a thick blanket over everything. Flea went to pull an old dust cloth off a nearby piece of furniture. Jez and I yelped for him to stop, a cloud already exploding around it.
“Is there somewhere we get bedding and towels from?” I said.
“Send one of your porters to the laundry. It’s in the big building with the red door on the right-hand side. Now Mizzy, is there anything else I can get you?” Scalla said.
“I’m very hungry and I’m tempted to make you my first meal if you persist in calling me that,” he said.
“Oh, well, you just help yourself from the fields. Don’t go into any of the sheds, that’s where the prize breeders are. Master Fallon will be most upset if you eat one of those. But will you be able to hunt OK? Do we need to find you an itty bitty little beast to fill your tummy-wummy?”
“Who fucking knew talking like an idiot translated so well,” Jez said, looking on with horror. We all went outside, ready to stand between Scalla and Miazydar’s epic temper. My dragon just glowered, then shook himself, growing bigger and bigger right in front of her eyes until he was definitely larger than the other beasts. One dragon opened an eye, then lifted its head to peer down at us.
“Oh, my apologies, Great One,” Scalla stammered out.