“Marked by it, yes,” said Erner. He offered out his hand. “But not broken. Never that.”
Patch looked at Erner’s outstretched hand. He started to bring his own up, but stopped halfway. “You should hate me for what I did,” he said.
“I don’t hate you,” said Erner. He reached further and took Patch’s reluctant hand, and they shook at last. “Even if I did try to strangle you.” He smiled.
Patch smiled back, but all he could think was that Erner was handling this rather better than he was.
The city of Skamos was ancient.
It had been founded shortly before the first war between humans and dragons, nine hundred years ago, a small human settlement on the very edges of the Dragon Territories. Originally little more than a fort which sat on top of a hill, it had grown until it engulfed the hill and much of the plains at its base. After that first war, in the hopeful peace that followed, dragons joined the residents of the city, and Skamos was given special status: part of the Dragon Territories, yes, but with its own rules so that the dragons and humans who lived there were treated as equals.
Crisis after crisis, it had faced – wars, drought and an encroaching desert. A combination of dragon and human ingenuity had led to the building of a great aqueduct that brought water from a river twenty miles away. Now, that water gave life to the city, and to the land around it; an island of green, in a grey-and-yellow dusty wasteland, with gardens and trees throughout the sandstone and granite of the city’s buildings and fortifications.
The central part, built on that old hill, had a vast wall winding around it, up and up to a stone tower at the peak, defences that spoke of a past littered with attacks, sieges and threats, but which were now dotted with windmills.
Skamos: a source of anger for humans who hated dragons, and for dragons who hated humans, yet the city itself had always been peaceful, the two species living side by side in harmony.
They landed outside the city, after almost two days of flying. Barver had taken them into the high windways once more, for speed, and all three passengers – Patch, Wren and Alia – were wrapped up in plenty of extra layers.
When they dismounted, they removed their heavy extras, packing it all into Barver’s harness packs ready for their next flight.
“What are the windmills for?” asked Patch, looking at the city walls.
“They aid in the pumping of water,” said Alia. “Vast storage tanks lie at the base of the tower, and the water is pumped to wherever it’s most needed. Waste water flows out to the surrounding land, as you can see.” Even here, well beyond the city’s outer wall, tendrils of green extended into the desert, running alongside a channel of water that simply stopped, soaking into the sand.
“It’s a wonderful place, Skamos,” said Alia. “The Mesyr Desert runs from here to the sea, and south for a hundred miles. It expands some years, contracts others. But the city copes, either way. Ten thousand people and five hundred dragons.” She smiled. “I know this city well. I was stationed here for six months as an Apprentice Custodian. Come on, then, follow me!”
They walked through the mudbrick buildings on the outskirts. By and large, they went unnoticed. Those people who did acknowledge them wore wide smiles and waved in greeting. Skamos certainly seemed a happy place.
Sleeping near a water channel was the first dragon they saw close up, a particularly large female, her impressive dorsal spines folded against her back.
“That’s Unanda Kellokeen,” said Alia. “The city’s oldest resident. She’s not changed a bit since I was here, what, thirty years ago?” A sly grin spread across Alia’s face. “To be honest, she may not have moved at all since then…”
At the base of the hill, they reached the city’s outer wall. It was the height of three people; the entryways were open gaps, with another small section of wall behind.
“These are the sand walls,” said Alia. “In the worst years, they act as a last protection against the desert.” Once through, she pointed to a particularly green region where the trees grew surprisingly high. “There,” she said. “The residences of the Delegates. That’s where your aunt and uncle should live, if everything hasn’t changed since I was last here!”
As they drew near, they saw a large shallow pond, in which residents played, adults as well as children, dragon and human both, splashing and laughing.
“Is that waste water?” said Patch. He thought back to his time in the dungeons of Tiviscan, where “waste water” meant the rain, washing through the basic sewer system – filthy and stinking. The thought of people swimming in it…
Alia caught the look on his face and understood. “Not that kind!” she said. “Skamos has proper sewers, running under the city itself. Half a mile to the west is a canyon, where the sewers emerge. A lush and magical place, but rather smelly – it gets plenty of water, and plenty of fertilizer! Water that leaves the city through the irrigation channels is fresh. You can have a paddle later, if you like.”
Patch, Wren and Barver nodded at each other. They would definitely like that, especially after the long journey.
“These are the two Delegate residences,” declared Alia, as they approached the buildings. She nodded to the leftmost. “That’s where the Custodian Delegate lived, up until the Council summoned them back to Tiviscan.” She shook her head, as if she still couldn’t quite believe it. “The one on the right is for the Triumvirate Delegate.” It was twice the size of the other. Alia led them to the double doorway. It was certainly large, but then most of the doorways they’d walked past were large here – easily wide enough for a dragon, although they would still have to duck a little.
Alia reached to a bell-pull.
“Hang on,” said Barver. He straightened his harness straps and ran a hand over the feathers on his neck, flattening them down. “Okay, ready!”
The bell rang, and after a few moments the double doorway opened to reveal a male dragon about Barver’s size. The dragon seemed rather tired. “Yes?” he said, looking first at Alia, then at Barver, then back to Alia. Suddenly he looked like he’d woken up, and with a wide smile turned to Barver again.
“Hi, Uncle Zennick,” said Barver. “Hope you don’t mind me dropping by unannounced?”
“Barver!” cried Zennick, stepping out and giving him a hug. “I can’t believe it, after all this time!” He turned his head and called through the door: “Yakesha! Come down! You’ll never guess who’s here!”
There was movement inside, and Patch almost shrieked: watching an even larger dragon rushing towards you was rather unnerving.
Aunt Yakesha greeted Barver with another hug. “Come on, then,” she said. “Introductions, please!”
“Aunt Yakesha, Uncle Zennick, these are my good friends, Patch and Wren. As you see, Wren has found her cure…”
“Patch and Wren!” said Yakesha. “We’ve heard so many things!”
“You have?” said Wren, somewhat wary.
“I mentioned you in my letter,” said Barver. “I left out all the bad stuff, obviously.” He winked, ignoring Wren’s scowl. “And this is Alia. She’s a representative of the Custodians, here on an important mission – the reason we came.”
“Custodians?” said Yakesha, with a hopeful smile. “Has the Pipers’ Council decided to send a new Delegate?”
“I’m sorry, no,” said Alia. “The Council didn’t send me. It’s a little more complicated than that.”
“A shame,” said Yakesha, deflated. “It was a shock to us all when they left.” She looked at Zennick. “Fetch the little one, my dear.” Zennick nodded, and went off to the rear of the building. “Come inside, all of you,” said Yakesha. “We can discuss business shortly, but first be at home!”
She showed them to a table, around which were stone benches, some large and low, others small and high, the large ones further from the table. Barver and Yakesha took seats on a low bench, while Alia, Patch and Wren took seats on the higher ones, so that, for once, Barver didn’t have to crouch by a table
and could sit more comfortably.
Zennick returned, leading a baby dragon by the hand. It was perhaps three feet high, its skin grey with dark green stripes, a rather stubby little body, and wings so tiny they’d have been more at home on a bat. The baby looked around with intense interest as it waddled along. It wore folded cloth around its lower half, which struck Patch as strange – he’d never seen a dragon, or griffin, wearing clothing before – until he realized it was a nappy. “Barver, this is your cousin Kerna,” said Zennick. “Kerna, this is your cousin Barver. Say hello!”
“Ba Va!” said the baby, holding its arms out and grasping. It wrinkled up its face, and a little glop of snot oozed from its nose. The glop started to swell, forming a bubble. “Bub bub!” said Kerna. The bubble popped, and the snot went on fire, a small flame like that of a candle rising up from the baby’s nose.
Patch and Wren stared at the flame; Barver, though, was absolutely smitten. “You are adorable, Kerna,” he said, as his uncle passed the baby to him. The flame from the baby’s nose didn’t seem to be subsiding. “Should I wipe that with something?”
“Oh, no need,” said Zennick. “Better for it to burn off slowly, really, getting it on a cloth just tends to be…risky.”
Zennick and Yakesha shared a wary look, one that contained unspoken tales of near disaster. Patch noticed the same level of deep tiredness in Yakesha’s expression as he’d seen on Zennick’s. Babies were notorious for leaving parents exhausted. He guessed that flammable babies meant a certain extra burden that human parents didn’t have to worry about. He glanced around the room, noticing just how few combustible items there were – the furniture was mostly stone, and there were no carpets or rugs.
“I’m keen to learn the reason for your visit, Alia,” said Yakesha. “Can you tell me in front of your friends, or should we speak privately?”
“I can tell you now,” said Alia. “We have information relating to the location of the Hamelyn Piper. Capturing him requires airborne scouting. We need the help of dragons, as many as possible.”
Yakesha frowned. “You want a dragon army?”
“Not an army,” said Alia. “Four or five would be enough. We have so much ground to cover, and little time to spare. This would purely be scouting. No combat would be involved.”
Yakesha’s frown merely deepened. “The Triumvirate has been very specific in their instructions. The Pipers’ Council have already asked for assistance in their Great Pursuit, and the Triumvirate refused, declaring that dragons would handle this themselves, come what may.”
“We’re not here on behalf of the Council,” said Alia. “I represent a group of Custodians, and we need your help. The situation is urgent. We believe that the Hamelyn Piper is close to gaining power greater than we ever conceived. If he succeeds, he might be impossible to defeat. Any delay will make that more likely.”
Yakehsa’s frown became a scowl. “I cannot help you,” she said, sounding almost angry.
Alia was thrown by this, and gave Barver a pleading look.
“Aunt Yakesha…” started Barver, but his aunt stood from the table and stepped away. Zennick watched her, visibly anxious, though he said nothing.
“Forgive me,” said Yakesha at last. “It was hard enough when we first heard that the Hamelyn Piper was still alive, and now you bring such a dire warning…but I cannot help you.” She looked across at her child, who was pulling faces at Wren; Wren was doing the same back, making the baby giggle. “It was always your mother’s fervent wish, Barver, that dragons and humans learned to cooperate. This great city shows how that can be done. Being asked to be the Triumvirate’s Delegate for Skamos was the greatest honour I’ve ever been given. But I’d not truly appreciated the hatred some dragons have for this place – and for what it represents.” She shook her head with sorrow. “Those dragons think humans are so worthless that any kind of association with them is a disgrace, whatever the circumstances. The attack on Tiviscan was a great victory for them. Their influence has grown significantly. When the Pipers’ Council asked for help, those dragons convinced the Triumvirate that no assistance should be given to humans, or accepted from humans – that it’s a matter of dragon pride to kill the Hamelyn Piper ourselves, alone. Worse yet, they got the Triumvirate to forbid it with a direct Proclamation, the most solemn and binding of all law. The penalties for breaking that law are severe. No dragon is allowed to help humans, in any way, in the hunt for the Hamelyn Piper.” She sat down again, seeming drained. “Not even me.”
“Could you ask the Triumvirate directly?” said Alia.
“I’m sorry,” said Yakesha. “Even that would be against the law.”
Silence filled the room – silence, and a sense of despair. Baby Kerna, noticing the mood change, frowned at Wren, then sneezed; another dollop of snot emerged, from the other nostril, and now there were two little flames rising.
“Then could I ask them?” said Alia. She reached into a pocket and pulled out a small golden ornament, on a fine chain. It was in the shape of a burst of dragon fire, three inches across, and at the heart was a red gem.
Yakesha and Zennick both gasped.
“The Fire of All Days,” said Yakesha, astonished. “The highest honour the Triumvirate can give. But how…?”
Alia spoke with obvious reluctance. “I am Alia Corrigan, one of the Eight.” Patch, Wren and Barver looked at each other; they knew how fiercely Alia protected her privacy, and disliked revealing her true identity. “Over a decade ago, the Triumvirate honoured us, and told us they were in our debt. Surely that holds weight still?”
“I didn’t know the Eight had been paid such a tribute,” said Zennick.
“It was done in secret,” said Alia. “They knew there would be dragons who hated the idea. Show the Triumvirate this, and see if they’ll keep their promise.”
Yakesha looked thoughtful. “A direct plea from you to the Triumvirate, to seek special permission…” She nodded. “Yes, it might work. It will take a few days for their response, though.”
A few days, Patch thought. By then, if Tobias had succeeded, the Pipers and soldiers he’d recruited should have gathered in Gossamer Valley. If the Triumvirate didn’t agree, those soldiers would be waiting in vain for the promised help. But what choice did they have?
“Then we wait,” said Alia.
“Alia and I will draft the letter to the Triumvirate,” said Yakesha. “Once that’s done, you can enjoy some Skamos hospitality!”
“A Skamos feast!” said Zennick. “I’ll do my roasted harker peas, for anyone brave enough to try.”
“We should go and have a splash in that pond,” said Barver to Patch and Wren. He tickled Kerna under the chin. “I’m getting some muscle cramps in my shoulders, and it would help.”
“Ba Va!” said Kerna.
“That’s me!” said Barver, then went into a long oogy-boogy-doogy that made Kerna laugh.
“A swim would be better for you,” said Zennick. “You should go to the public bathhouse, while I make dinner.”
Kerna grunted and pulled the most curious face, accompanied by an odd gurgling sound.
Wren, who was nearer than Patch, suddenly clamped her hands over her face. “Oh my God!” she cried, and backed away.
Patch was bemused, but was suddenly overwhelmed with a stinging pain. “My eyes!” he said.
“Ah,” said Barver. “I think Kerna needs changing. I can do it, if you like?”
Zennick smiled. “That would be very helpful, Barver! Just through the archway, down the corridor on the right. Everything’s there. Pull the lever for water, and I’ll check in on you shortly.”
Barver picked Kerna up. “Come on, you two,” he said. Patch and Wren followed him as best they could. Patch could just about see through his own tears, and Wren didn’t seem to be struggling for air quite so much.
“It’s okay,” Barver told them as they walked through the house. “There’s usually a bit of gas that leaks out, but that’s the worst of it. Ah ha!” They
’d reached a doorway; inside was a large stone bath, and a smaller basin. A pipe stuck out of the wall, with a wooden lever beside it. Barver put a plug in the bath and pulled the lever. Water poured from the pipe into the bath. “See?” said Barver. “Dragons and humans get together, and you have water coming out of the wall whenever you want it!”
Patch was impressed. He splashed some water around his eyes and the last of the discomfort went away.
“The ventilation in here seems okay,” said Barver. “But it might be best for you two to wait by the door until I’ve dealt with the mess.” He pointed to Kerna’s nappy.
Patch and Wren were only too happy to do as he said. They braced themselves as Barver removed the cloth from Kerna’s lower half, but there was a surprise waiting.
“Is that…is that metal?” said Patch. Sure enough, underneath the cloth was metal, which seemed to be hinged on one side. “A metal nappy?”
“Yep,” said Barver.
Wren stared. “Why is that necessary?” she said.
“Dragon baby poo,” said Barver. “If it gets on things…”
“It tends to leave stains?” said Wren.
“It tends to leave holes,” said Barver. “Very acidic, dragon baby poo. Improves after the first year, thankfully.” He reached down to a large wire basket by his feet, and picked up a jar of a yellow substance. “You put a coating of this stuff on the nappy before you put it on, otherwise it would eat right through the metal. Makes a good seal around the edges, as well.”
“You’re a bit of an expert at this,” said Patch.
“Genasha,” said Barver, and Patch could have kicked himself. Of course that was how he knew so much about dragon babies – his cousin Genasha, who had died tragically young. “Since my mum was so busy when I was younger, and my dad wasn’t around much, I stayed with my aunt and uncle plenty of times. I helped out a lot with Genasha. Watching her grow up, from egg into a young girl…”
A Vanishing of Griffins Page 16