The Dragon Who Didn't Fly

by C. M. Barrett

  “It’s all right. I know what you’ve been going through, and I understand it. In a way, I’ve been struggling with the same issues. How can we live as whole human beings in this country that wants to dissect the hearts out of us?”

  She realized she should have known all along. She thought about the tender way he cared for the vegetables in their garden and the arc of his hands caressing the kitten. She remembered that she’d always gone to him when Fiola had been harsh beyond the bearing of it.

  “You’re an—”

  He covered her mouth gently. “Not a word. Yes, Serazina. I’m going where I can’t be captured.”

  “But if no one knows and if it isn’t illegal, why leave?”

  “Malvern Frost had one of my closest associates brought in for questioning two days ago. No one has heard from him since. We suspect that the government is attempting some form of brain modification, and we can’t rule out the possibility of torture. Serazina, I’m the superintendent of all the fields. Imagine the example they’d make out of me, especially with the attention that’s come to this family.”

  “It’s my fault,” Serazina wailed.

  “You did nothing wrong. I knew that sooner or later I’d need to go. I contrived a way to leave the house the night the Guardian came. I couldn’t risk his reading my mind. Probably I should have gone to the woods then, but I wanted to see what happened after he met you. Now I can do what calls me. But you won’t be truly safe unless you leave this country. You need to be in a place where your emotions can run free.”

  “You know about me?” she whispered.

  “Of course. For most Earthers, to suppress their emotions would be as painful as to cut down a healthy tree in its prime to make room for some building. They don’t have your gift of mind and focus, but many of us are learning to hear and feel the conversations of Nature.”

  “Conversations?” She remembered her strange visions: the dragon, the dance, trees singing. “Is that true?”

  As if he knew what she was asking, he smiled at her. “The world is much more than we’ve been taught, Serazina. Keep your heart open.”

  Johar glanced at the sky. “There’s so much I want to tell you, but I need to leave before the sun rises. One important thing, though: We didn’t attempt to assassinate the Guardian. We think a secret group is organizing to overthrow the Council. They use the Godlies to conceal their intentions, hoping to stir up the people into rebellion. Our guess is that Malvern Frost stands at the center of this effort. Some of our people are watching him, but you must be cautious if you’re around him.”

  He got up to leave, but she grabbed his arm, suddenly afraid she’d never see him again. “Father, I told the Guardian the truth about myself. He promised that I wouldn’t be harmed in any way. I’d like to trust him, but I’m sure I can. Berto and I are going to Tamaras.

  He nodded, his eyes sad. “It’s the only way.”

  “But before I go, can I find you in the woods?”

  “We’re well hidden, but if you walk in the direction of the setting sun and turn right at a waterfall, you may find us.”

  “And will you ever be able to come back?”

  Clouds swam in his eyes. “I hope so. Oh, Serazina, I hope so.”

  Then he was gone.

  She crept silently up the stairs and got into her bed, but she couldn’t sleep until the kitten leapt through the window and curled up next to her, purring loudly. Serazina clutched the kitten for the rest of the night, her sleep fitful and laced with nightmares.

  In her last dream before waking, the kitten leapt across time, landing beside a cup of wine. She knocked it over so that it spilled across Serazina’s vision, spreading stains of confusion, loneliness, bright like blood. The singing grew louder. Feet stamped the dry earth, and dust and voices rose, shouting, “Kill the dragon!” while Serazina wept tears of sticky blood, like the muck and mire of the swamp, where the dragon cried.

  His tears became pools of water that washed away all the stains and left everything clean and shining and white like the sheets which covered her, like the window frame in which Kitten perched, like her glossy chest fur. The world into which Serazina opened her eyes glowed in the sunlight, as fresh and fragrant as the wheat fields in early morning. It was a place of brightness and clarity, but Serazina saw it through a haze of tears.

  * * *

  Tara ran to the sacred grove to give Orion her morning report.

  “A tragedy. Serazina’s father has gone to join the Earthers in the forest.” Tara repeated the conversation she’d overheard early that morning.

  Orion’s tail danced. “Good, very good.”

  “Good? Him telling her about nature being alive was certainly helpful, but she’s heartbroken. I never thought you’d be so cold that you wouldn’t sympathize with someone’s grief.”

  “Of course, I’m not, but what if her grief compels her to action? Her father can’t come home to her until the human world changes. The time is right to take her to the dragon.”

  * * *

  Serazina shuffled into the kitchen. Fiola bent over the stove, looking worried. “Did you hear your father leave the house?”

  “No. Do you think it was another emergency?”

  “Yes, that must have been it.” Fiola’s face cleared. “He must not have wanted to wake me. I’ll call him later and see if everything is all right.”

  And he won’t be there, Serazina thought. And she’ll come home, and he won’t be here. And she’ll know, and she’ll be ashamed, and she’ll hate him. How can I endure this?

  * * *

  Today Phileas didn’t care how many times Daria spoke of her ancestor’s legacy nor how many tedious statistics Kermit recited. He intended to observe them all carefully and do a little surreptitious mind reading. He, too, could cite emergencies, and he, too, could be a spider, one who sat in the center of a cleverly spun web waiting for his victims to become entangled.

  He had noticed that Malvern had managed to give four of the eight reports and was now giving a considerable portion of the report about Earther activity. He raised his hand. “Isn’t Kermit our Councilor for Defense?”

  Malvern, wearing a sober expression, spoke carefully. “When we are so threatened defense is every citizen’s task. And since the Earther problem is endemic in the fields close to my home, I was happy to offer my services to Kermit.”

  The dense slime of greed oozed from his mouth.

  Daria Turley thumped the table. “Hear, hear. Nathan said, ‘Let no man or woman shirk the task of defending our nation.’ He would have known what to do about those Earthers. He’d have the problem solved—not like some.”

  You’re a spider, Phileas reminded himself. Spin out some thread. “I’m sure you’re not implying that I haven’t solved the problem. That would mean no solution existed. It would be a call to despair. I certainly have no intention of giving up. We will triumph.”

  “Of course we will,” Daria mumbled. “Don’t go about confusing me with those fancy word tricks of yours. I only say you haven’t solved it yet.”

  Romala said, “But, Daria, it took Nathan and Zena a year to realize they had to leave Tamaras and form their own country. The Guardian has had only a few months to solve the Earther problem, and who can say that what he’s done hasn’t prevented their disease from spreading?”

  She gazed calmly at Daria, who smacked toothless gums. “There’s a smart girl. Women talk straight and to the point. They’ve got too much else to do to waste time spouting words for the sound of them. Maybe the Guardian has done more than I thought.”

  “Except that the Earther crisis is still with us,” Malvern said. “Our intelligence sources believe that they have only dispersed. Some hide in the deepest recesses of the forest, and, we suspect, the swamp.”

  “They could be captured in the forest,” Phileas said.

  Malvern looked positively cherubic. “As you pointed out, that’s not my job. Furthermore, they remain free because they’ve become unnatu
rally clever about covering their trails. As far as the swamp is concerned, no one will go in.”

  “Sensible of them.” Phileas noted that Malvern’s agile mind resisted his attempts to read it, but no one outwitted the Guardian for long. “In essence, you’re telling this Council that you can’t follow the trails in the forest, but you’re sure Earthers hide there. You don’t go into the swamp, but there must be Earthers there, too.”

  “An oversimplification,” Malvern said.

  Kermit rattled some papers. “With all respect, I disagree. We must have facts. Ten thousand unlawful leaflets have been put up during the past two weeks and two hundred men have vanished from the fields.” He looked up. “We project that there are approximately three thousand Earthers in the Oasis West vicinity, with untold others in the city. Their numbers grow every day. And Earther activity has sprung up in other parts of the country. Some may have fled to Tamaras.”

  “Where they’d be welcomed warmly,” Daria said. “Tamaras, home of harlotry and lasciviousness, Tamara, fleshpot of the world. Tamara can have them all.”

  “Unfortunately, Tamaras is getting a great many of our citizens,” Phileas said. “And I must remind you once again that it is not unlawful to be an Earther.”

  Snurf Noswan pounded the table with his fist. “As a Dolocairner, I say that allowing the Earther movement to exist provides an unhealthy emotional outlet for my people. Deprived of it, those of my race would reach for the benefits of mind. Is not that in line with the highest ideals of our society?”

  “Snurf, I follow your logic,” Phileas said. “However, those who seek to wallow in emotion will find another way, should the Earther path be denied them. I choose a more reasonable path. I intend to enforce ever more vigorously among our young people, and especially among our children, a belief in the superiority of Mind. It has come to my attention that rural children get only the most haphazard form of education. This will change.”

  “I appreciate that,” Noswan said, “and I thank you on behalf of my people.”

  The crisis might have passed, had not Malvern spoken. “I, too, thank you, but I must strongly second Snurf’s remarks. Educational improvement, while welcome, does nothing to relieve the current plague of Earthism. In Oasis West, the top field managers are quietly removing known or suspected Earthers from any positions of responsibility. With the drought, it’s just too dangerous.”

  His words recharged Noswan. “And the danger is more than material. The Earthers introduce moral rot into our society. It is as if they bring the poisonous vines and mud and deadly snakes of the swamp into our living rooms. They have the nerve to speak of being redeemed by their sensual and vile reunion with the earth. We are redeemed by suffering and sacrifice. They should experience a little suffering themselves. Or a lot.”

  Phileas was suddenly reminded of Serazina’s claim that Oasan values were as skewed as he’d insisted hers were. She was wrong about him, but when he considered the brutal repression Godlies inflicted on themselves, he thought she might be right. Why was he plagued with the notion that her answers needed to find a home in his mind?

  With great effort he put Serazina out of his mind. He needed to give all his attention to the current battle.

  “I disagree with both Malvern and Snurf,” Romala said. “Earthers should be sent to the Healing Center for rehabilitation. We don’t punish people for mental illness. Malvern himself admits that many of them are in positions of leadership in the fields. When such loyal and intelligent citizens become infected by the Earther disease, our job is to treat it as we would any other sickness.”

  “Yes,” Phileas said. “That is the essence of Mind.”

  “I’m all for Mind,” Malvern said, “but I’m also for bold and decisive action. Oasis will remember who acted.”

  “But, Malvern,” Romala said, “surely we’re all acting, each in our own way. None of us would expect the Guardian to solve the problem alone. As Nathan said, ‘Let no citizen shirk his or her duty.’ Our duty is to assist our leader.”

  Malvern continued wily. “Of course we will. Haven’t I just indicated that I’ve been working night and day to help out, even with all my other responsibilities?”

  “Yes, we’d like to hear about those other responsibilities,” Phileas said.

  “Wait, let’s be orderly,” Kermit said. “We can’t go hopscotching through the agenda. I propose that efforts to round up Earthers who break the law will be redoubled.”

  “Agreed,” the other Councilors chorused.

  “Daria, do you formally propose sending proven law breakers to Tamaras?”

  “Either that, or if they want to go to Dolocairn, they can join their kin in shedding frozen tears.”

  “The floor is open for debate,” Kermit said.

  “We need a punishment to discourage more traitors from cropping up,” Malvern said. “I propose that we name all Earthers as traitors and deserters. The people called for execution of the would-be assassins. Can we show less backbone?”

  “Can we show less wisdom?” Phileas countered. “I disagreed with the notion of executing assassins. To execute deserters and, for Zena’s sake, people who put up posters, is unthinkable.”

  “It would be costly,” Kermit said.

  “Not just monetarily,” Phileas said, “but in terms of public opinion. We have untold numbers of Earthers, each with relatives and friends. And if we give this cause too many martyrs, it may win sympathy from the people. Exile for lawbreakers is humane; it demonstrates that we’re wise and just leaders.”

  “Who let criminals agitate outside our borders and maybe sneak back in,” Malvern said.

  “Humph, easier to agitate mud than the Tamarans,” Daria said, “and the mountain passes from Dolocairn are closed half the year. More likely that the Earthers will sink into the pleasure pits or the snow and forget about making trouble. The border guards can take care of any who try to slip back here. Call the question.”

  Malvern cast the only opposing vote. Usually losing infuriated him; today he seemed indifferent. Had he amassed enough power to disregard this Council?

  “The next item is the water problem,” Kermit said.

  “We’ve been over the conventional solutions in earlier meetings,” Malvern said. “I won’t waste your time on them, except to say that they’re insufficient. There are two items I wish to bring to the attention of this Commission.”

  “You don’t wish to; you were requested to,” Phileas said. “I ask that it be noted in the records that Councilor Frost withheld information and plans from this Council.”

  Malvern banged the table. “No withholding was involved. Both information and plans are in preliminary stages. It’s not my practice to waste this Council’s time on speculation.”

  “This is wise,” Kermit said.

  Phileas leaned forward. “It is, however, the practice of all Councilors to bring promising ideas to each other so that we may develop them. This follows Nathan’s principle of collective leadership, our safeguard against tyranny.”

  Malvern scowled. “I deny any charge of secrecy. It seems to me that certain parties, unsure of their own power, are accusing others of gathering too much.”

  “A speculative statement,” Romala said. “What parties and who are the others?”

  Kermit appeared to be in great pain. “Councilors, I must insist that we get through this agenda.”

  “I agree,” Phileas said. The battle was declared, and he was exhilarated, his mind as fit as the body of a boy of sixteen. The preceding skirmishes had limbered up his mental muscles. He’d loosened Daria’s traditional alliance with Malvern (Romala had helped). He’d forced Malvern to openly reveal his thoughts. Frost was in excellent mental shape; but quick as his mind was, it lacked imagination, and Phileas had detected a pattern.

  Malvern would play three themes. First, he would cite his knowledge of the field workers. Second, he would fashion himself as the true patriot and standard-bearer of Nathan’s heritage. Finally, i
n order to mask his own power mongering, he would claim that the Guardian was losing power and support.

  This most dangerous strategy must be countered whenever Malvern attempted to use it. Phileas would reverse it by hammering until the Councilors’ ears rang with the alarming news that one among them was building a private base of power as a launching source for suspicious and possibly treasonous activities.

  “Councilors,” Malvern said in the friendliest of voices, “the news I have to share is very exciting. First, a university scientist has developed the theory that the dragon is responsible for the drought. Dragons breathe fire. Fire evaporates water. Thus, he has deduced that the dragon dries up moisture with his fiery breath.”

  “But we don’t have drought every year,” said Kermit.

  “The theory allows for this. Our own history shows that the dragon has been alive a very long time. Thus, his cycles of sleep and wakefulness, activity and idleness, may be correspondingly longer than our own.”

  Phileas wondered if this were Malvern’s own notion. “The people are frightened enough. We don’t need to terrorize them with an unfounded notion about the dragon. Until this highly imaginative theory is proven—and I’d be interested in hearing how you intend to do that—I decree that it not be brought to the attention of the public.”

  He smiled inwardly when Malvern leapt at the bait. “Without the Council’s approval?”

  “I do so by the right of the power vested within me during times of emergency. Didn’t you cite the state of emergency as your reason for withdrawing one hundred nats yesterday?”

  Kermit looked up in alarm. “I must have a receipt.”

  Malvern’s voice sounded more ragged. He was a hare on the run, skilled in evasive tactics, but no match for the hound of reason who snapped at his legs. “You’ll have it, and you, Guardian, shall have the silence you request.”

  Phileas caught an unguarded thought. Of course I won’t obey; the story’s already in circulation.

  Malvern continued. “Private consultants to our commission have also, in a remarkably short period of time, devised an innovative, even daring plan which is, if I may say so, very much in the spirit of our Founder himself.”