The Temptation of Dragons (Penny White Book 1)

by Chrys Cymri

  ‘She isn’t a dragon,’ Jary hissed. ‘She is a human.’

  My mind froze. What had Dominic said in his confession? That he hadn’t kept his vows of celibacy? Did he mean he had broken them with Miranda? A dragon and a human--how was that even possible?

  ‘The reason why he was here is immaterial,’ Morey said. ‘Let’s get back to our discussion about ownership of his body.’

  ‘You are wrong, halfbreed.’ Jary’s spines were erect again. ‘The rules followed by you Christians weaken the blood, but Endre chose to follow them. And he broke his vows. By your own rules he cannot be buried as a Christian.’

  ‘Above all, our Lord taught us that forgiveness is available to anyone who truly repents.’ Gerald’s voice was a calm contrast to Jary’s harsh tones. ‘Father Penny, I believe Dominic made his full confession and received your absolution?’

  ‘Even for Miranda?’ Jary challenged.

  My brain was working again. ‘The seal of the confessional is absolute,’ I said firmly. ‘I will not discuss what Brother Dominic said to me. But I can confirm that he made his confession, and I gave him absolution. Whatever his sins, he was restored to the Lord before he died.’

  ‘So he can be buried in hallowed ground.’ This was the first time Matthias had spoken, and I rather hoped it would be the last. His voice was overly loud even in the large room.

  ‘He was my son,’ Bodil growled, ‘and I will honour him as such.’

  ‘Do you know what his wishes were?’ I asked, keeping my voice mild. Take away scales and spines, and this could be any family rowing in the lead up to a funeral. ‘Did he make these clear?’

  ‘He made them clear when he accepted Jesus as Lord and Saviour,’ Matthias declared.

  ‘So the answer is no,’ I continued. ‘Matriarch Bodil, is the consumption of the dead the practice of your religion? Or is it a cultural custom?’

  ‘Fom Sior does not require us to eat our dead,’ she affirmed. ‘And most of the other religions permit us to do so. It’s only the Christians who would deny us our right to honour our dead.’

  ‘So consuming Dominic would not be part of a non Christian ceremony.’

  ‘We bury our dead,’ Gerald reminded me.

  ‘But do you have to bury all of him?’ I asked.

  ‘To await the bodily resurrection of the dead, of course.’

  ‘Doesn’t the church in Lloegyr have relics?’

  ‘Plenty,’ Morey said. ‘There are so many pieces said to be from Saint George that Christ is going to be very confused at the resurrection.’

  I filed away the question as to why a dragon slayer would be a saint in Lloegyr. I turned to the family. ‘You said you had to consume Endre in order for his spirit to live on. Surely that doesn’t mean you need the entire body?’

  If nothing else, I had succeeded in angering both sides. Bodil managed to shout first. ‘Why should I let these lizards have any part of my son?’

  I kept my voice calm, even though her roar had made the windows rattle. ‘Because your son clearly chose to become a Christian, and to join the Order of Saint Thomas. If you truly want to honour him, then you should honour his wishes.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Gerald. ‘So why should we permit any part of him to be eaten?’

  ‘Because a person still belongs to his or her culture,’ I replied. ‘The Gospel remains the same, but the way in which the Christian faith is expressed changes from culture to culture. The church does not insist on all parts of a person being buried, which is how we have relics. It’s quite possible that Dominic might have expected to share at least part of his bodily self with his family after he died.’

  ‘We want all of him,’ Jary growled.

  ‘As do we,’ Matthias retorted.

  ‘And so we have to compromise.’ I stood and glared at each of them in turn. ‘Or do we take this to the harpies?’

  A long moment of silence. Then Bodil said to Gerard, ‘The wings and two legs.’

  ‘Not the wings,’ he responded. ‘The wings remind us of our constant need to be supported by the Holy Spirit. One leg and the tail.’

  My stomach twisted. Yes, this was the compromise I’d suggested, but to listen to dragons argue how to divide up someone I’d consoled at the point of his death was too much. ‘I’m going out for some fresh air,’ I muttered to Morey. He dipped his head in a nod.

  Back in the foyer, I took deep breaths as I poured myself a glass of water. I noted dimly that my hands were shaking. My hair and clothes reeked of smoke. Would the smell wash out?

  A movement caught my eye. The partition had been slid across the back third of the meeting room, which created a small, separate area with its own access. The door had a glass window, and I could see something dark against the bright windows. I put down my water and strode to the door.

  A dragon met my gaze as I flung it open. ‘Oops,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Caught.’

  I could think of nothing to say. There was an iridescence to his scales, shifting his hide between dark green and black. Triangular black spines marched from his forehead and down his back. Wings of blue-green were cupped against his sides. Delicate feathers lined the wing joints, and traced patterns around his eyes and around his long ears. He smelled of freshly mown grass and was, quite possibly, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

  He sat back on his haunches and nibbled at a golden claw. It felt like the draconic equivalent of lighting a cigarette. ‘Hrafn Eydisson.’

  My heart was pounding loudly against my ribs. ‘And what are you doing here, Hraffn--?’ I stumbled over the name.

  ‘Translates to Raven in English, if that’s easier for you. I was only listening in.’ He cocked his head, and we both heard Jary challenge the date set for the burial. ‘It’s not often a human is called in to mediate between dragons. I was curious. And Endre was a second cousin. Or something.’ He yawned, and a blue tongue flicked past jagged teeth. ‘Genealogy bores me. Although you were magnificent. I do like strong females.’

  My face flushed at the compliment. ‘Do the family know that you’re here?’

  ‘No. I'm not exactly their favourite dragon.’

  ‘And why is that?’

  ‘There are reasons. All of them quite justified.’

  ‘That sounds very honest.’

  ‘Lying bores me.’

  My eyes dropped to look at his chest. A glassy black torc rested around his neck, the arms etched with curving patterns. ‘Which do you think is in the right, the family or the brothers?’

  ‘Both. Neither. Who cares?’ Wings lifted in a shrug. ‘Endre’s dead. What happens to his body doesn’t matter.’

  ‘You find that boring as well?’

  His blue-green eyes glittered as he turned his head to look out of the window. Give him a leather jacket and he could be James Dean. A draconic James Dean. ‘Quite right.’

  ‘Is there anything you don’t find boring?’

  Raven rose to his feet. I found myself unable to move as he paced towards me. Muscles slid smoothly under the polished scales, and a hint of leather tickled my nostrils. He lowered his head to mine. ‘Yes. And it’s something Endre and I had in common.’ His breath caressed my face. ‘Can you guess what that is?’

  I had to swallow several times before I could find my voice. ‘I have to get back to the negotiations.’ Then I forced myself to walk away, although my legs felt like they would bend under my weight at any moment.

  <><><><><><>

  It took another hour and eight servings of ale, but finally an agreement was reached. John escorted the six dragons to the lift and, I assumed, back through the thin place to Lloegyr. I didn’t know where Raven was. Correction. I didn’t want to know where Raven was. Or did I not want to want to know where Raven was?

  ‘Hey!’ I yelped. A sharp beak had sunk into my thumb. I glared down at Morey. ‘What was that for?’

  ‘To remind you that I still exist.’ His neck feathers were ruffled. ‘Dragons come and go. I’m your Associate,
Black. I expect you to pay attention when I’m trying to talk to you.’

  ‘Sorry. What were you saying?’

  ‘That you did well.’

  ‘You bit me because I wasn’t listening to a compliment?’

  ‘I bit you because you weren’t listening to me.’ He studied me. ‘Why was that?’

  ‘It was a rather intense meeting.’ Which wasn’t entirely a lie. Morey wouldn’t know which meeting I was referring to.

  ‘We were fortunate.’ I winced as Morey clambered up to my shoulder, his claws digging through the thin material of my jacket sleeve. ‘At least we weren’t sidetracked into a debate about Dominic’s perversion.’

  ‘Perversion?’

  ‘His involvement with a human.’

  I hid my sudden jerk by rising from my chair. ‘People from Lloegyr aren’t supposed to have intimate relationships with humans?’

  ‘Of course not. “Wherefore come out from among them, and be ye separate, saith the Lord, and touch not the unclean thing; and I will receive you.” Species are not supposed to mix.’

  ‘One of the dragons called you a halfbreed.’

  ‘A meaningless insult. Gryphons are a distinct species. We merely look like a mixture. Would you say that unicorns, for example, are halfbreeds because they have a body like a horse, a beard like a goat, and a horn like a narwhale?’

  John was back at the downstairs reception. He gave me a wave as I signed out. Then I asked Morey, ‘You quoted from the Bible. Paul?’

  ‘2 Corinthians 6:17.’

  ‘Which non Christians wouldn’t care about.’

  ‘Natural law. As Saint Paul wrote in Romans, God’s law is plain to everyone, Christian or otherwise.’

  Or in other words, I thought to myself, you have a prejudice and you find a Bible verse to match. But I was too tired to face another theological argument.

  <><><><><><>

  ‘You did what?’ James grinned at me as I collected his plate and glass. ‘Six dragons? How great is that!’

  I started to load the dishwasher. ‘I don’t think it’ll be like that every day.’

  ‘I’m really looking forward to this--what’s the church doing to you?’

  ‘It’s a licensing.’

  ‘I’m really looking forward to this licensing.’

  ‘Did you enjoy her ordinations?’ Morey asked, seated on the table nearby.

  I stiffened. I already knew what that tone meant. But James answered innocently, ‘Oh, no, I don’t do church stuff.’

  ‘But you’ll make an exception in this instance.’

  ‘Of course I am.’

  ‘Your sudden support for your sister is quite extraordinary.’

  ‘Time to go,’ I told Morey. ‘Village hall committee meeting. And you’re coming.’

  His ears drew back. ‘Why should I want to go to that?’

  “The Associate will attend parish duties in order to better understand the dual role of the appointee.”’ Plus it might stop him and my brother from killing each other.

  Morey’s body was a stiff statement of disapproval against my neck as I marched us from the house to the car. At least he was being quiet, which was a small mercy. And at the moment I was counting any mercies I could find.

  The hall was, as ever, cold, even though it was summer. The chair of the committee has the view that we don't want to waste money on heating for our short meetings. The fact that our meetings usually took at least an hour never seemed to sway Janice’s opinion. I’d dressed warmly, and I trusted that Morey had enough feathers and fur to keep him comfortable. A small part of me, which I couldn't entirely quelch, was rather hoping that he’d be at least a little uncomfortable.

  Janice started off well with approval of the last minutes and taking apologies. We raced through user issues, since there were none, and the accounts showed a surplus for the year so there were no questions to the treasurer. A quick safety inspection showed no problems with the rooms, the toilets, or the smoke alarm. I was beginning to hope that we might actually be finished before I lost feeling in all of my toes.

  But then we came to the dreaded ‘Any Other Business.’ Mary, the bookings clerk, raised a hand. ‘There’s a serious concern I need to raise with the committee. It’s about the teaspoons.’

  ‘Teaspoons?’ Morey muttered in my ear. ‘What could be serious about teaspoons?’

  ‘What’s the problem with the teaspoons?’ Janice prodded.

  ‘We had a hundred teaspoons in January,’ Mary continued. ‘I had a count tonight, and we’re down to twenty. Where have the teaspoons gone?’

  ‘“Where have all the teaspoons gone, long time passing?’” Morey sang in a baritone voice, secure in the knowledge that only I could see or hear him. ‘“Oh, when will they ever learn? Oh, when will they ever learn?”’

  ‘Maybe people have accidentally thrown them away?’ That was Steve, who had been checking his wristwatch regularly ever since he’d sat down. ‘You know, when they’re clearing off the plates.’

  ‘I think they’re stealing them,’ Mary declared.

  ‘Surely not!’ Morey declared. ‘Break one of the Ten Commandments?’

  ‘Why,’ Steve asked, ‘would anyone want to steal teaspoons? It’s not like they’re valuable or anything.’

  ‘Are not two teaspoons sold for a penny?’ Morey strode down my arm and onto the table. ‘And one of them shall not be stolen without your Father--’

  ‘We can get more teaspoons,’ Janice said, her hands waving. Morey rose onto his haunches and his forelegs echoed her movements. I glared at him, and he simply gave me a wink.

  ‘That’s not the point.’ Mary blinked rapidly. ‘First teaspoons, what next?’

  ‘“But you tell me over and over and over again, my friend,”’ Morey sang, ’“Ah, you don’t believe we’re on the eve of destruction.”’

  I decided the best way to ignore him was to talk over him. ‘You think other things might go missing?’

  ‘Could do.’ Mary took a deep breath. ‘So I’ve decided this is what we must do.’ She pushed a piece of paper to the centre of the table. Morey skipped back quickly, then peered down with interest. ‘We need a rota. I’ve listed all the party bookings over the next three months. We'll take it in turns to come in at the end of the party to check that nothing has been stolen.’

  ‘Because,’ Morey said gravely, ‘the dish might run away with the spoon.’

  Steve thumped the table. We all jumped, including Morey, who flew to my arm. ‘I have better things to do with my time than come here to count blasted teaspoons! I’ll buy a hundred of the things next week and donate them to the village hall.’

  Morey gave him an approving nod. ‘God loveth a cheerful giver.’

  ‘But--’

  ‘Thank you, Steve,’ Janice said firmly, cutting Mary off. ‘That should solve the problem. So, let’s set a date for our next meeting.’

  Morey waited until we were in the car before erupting. ‘What a waste of a priest’s time! You didn’t go through six years of training to end up discussing teaspoons!’

  I rested back against the car seat, forcing him to jump onto the dashboard. ‘The vicar is a trustee of the village hall. It’s in the constitution.’

  ‘Surely someone else can go instead of you.’

  ‘And the rest of the committee members aren’t churchgoers. It’s important for me to interact with the wider community.’

  ‘As a priest, as someone who preaches the Good News.’ The setting sun was streaming through my window, and Morey’s fur glowed in the bright light. ‘You didn’t even open the meeting with prayer.’

  ‘Steve is an atheist.’

  ‘Someone who can negotiate with dragons does not belong in a meeting about cutlery.’

  ‘Write that on my tombstone,’ I muttered.

  ‘No, not on your tombstone. Make it your life, now.’

  ‘Don’t you think I want to?’ I leaned over the steering wheel, bringing my nose level with his beak. ‘You’r
e right. This morning I was facing dragons. This evening it was teaspoons. I wanted to be a full time Vicar General. It wasn’t my decision to make it part time. Blame my bishop. He’s the one who said I’d remain in the parish.’

  Morey drew back, which meant I could uncross my eyes. ‘I had no idea.’

  ‘Well, now you know.’ Suddenly I felt very tired. ‘Get down. Time to go home. I need a drink.’

  ‘Talisker,’ Morey agreed.

  But we came home to disaster. Several glasses were scattered around the kitchen table, and a clearly empty whisky bottle held pride of place by James’ hand. ‘Hi Pen, Morey,’ he said, sipping from his tumbler. ‘Oh, out of this stuff, by the way.’

  I sat down and wondered if I could at least sniff the cork. ‘And how exactly have we run out?’

  ‘Had some mates ‘round.’ James grinned. ‘One of them said Talisker was his favourite, and so I hauled it out. They’ve gone on to the Black Lion. There wasn’t enough room in the car, but I said you’d take me over when you got home?’

  Morey’s claws pinpricked down my arm as he strode down to the table. ‘So, James Alfred White, I take it you’ll buy your sister a replacement bottle?’

  ‘Bit short of dosh at the moment,’ James said. ‘Can you get some more tomorrow, Pen? I’ll pay you back.’

  ‘When?’ Morey demanded.

  ‘That’s not important,’ I said. ‘I can afford a bottle of whisky.’

  ‘But that’s not the point.’ Morey glared at James. ‘You shouldn’t be offering others what isn’t yours.’

  James put down his glass with careful precision. I wondered how much of the Talisker he’d personally consumed. ‘Look, mate, I’ve lived here longer than you. Don’t you go telling me what I can and can’t do.’

  ‘You haven’t lived here,’ Morey retorted. ‘You’ve been lazing around in New Zealand for two years. And now that you’re out of money, you’ve flown home to the nest so your sister can look after you. Still the eyas.’

  ‘Just who the hell do you think you are?’

  ‘A better friend to Penny than you are.’