by K W Quinn
Andy snorted. “I don’t know many Earths that change their minds. Ever.”
Dez and Cass both nodded.
“It’s true. There is such a bias to it that most of us don’t ever realize. We all know the slurs and insults, but it’s more than just the obvious.” Dez grabbed water bottles from her bag and handed them out while she spoke, passionate and compelling. “It’s in all our language. Airheaded means stupid. If you’ve got your head in the clouds, you’re a useless dreamer. Someone who is flighty can’t be trusted. Wishy-washy means indecisive. Hotheaded people are troublemakers. It’s all tied to the Elements.”
Andy felt like Dez was pulling out things he’d felt but couldn’t express and putting them into such clear words that the truth was undeniable.
“In contrast,” she continued, “what are the good words? Reliable people are grounded or down to earth. Our very language is rooted—See? Rooted!—in the idea that Earth is superior, and there’s no changing that, is there?”
Cass leaned forward. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve never heard any Air words used kindly.”
“Well, when you’re doing well, you’re on fire, which is good, I guess,” Andy added.
“And when you fail, you get fired,” Dez countered. “It’s all a bunch of propaganda anyway. Ancient propaganda. Because everyone knows it takes everyone working together to actually make the world work. Earth may have Demeter on its side, but crops can’t grow without Water and Light. Apollo and Poseidon were more powerful.”
“But we can’t stand up to them. They control everything. If we think about stepping out of line, they take away homes, jobs, even people. They control the actual ground we walk on,” Andy argued.
Dez sighed. “True for now. It takes a lot of organization to make a resistance. There aren’t enough people with the hope of success to make the risk worth it. It wasn’t always like this, and it won’t always be like this.” She leaned back on her hands. “So I keep dreaming. Someday we’ll find a real Mistwalker, and then . . . then we’ll set things right.”
Cass sat up suddenly, nose wrinkled. “What does a Mistwalker have to do with it?’’
“What’s a Mistwalker?” Andy asked.
“That, my loves, is a story for another time. No time for a revolution today. We’ve got to work on dancing. And tumbling.” Dez stood and shook the grit off her pants. “Come on, let’s try it from the top.”
Watching
The forest was a great place for surveillance. In the hills and trees, there were plenty of places to hide. Sure, there was no signal on Reyah’s phone, but she didn’t need it to hook up a periscope and tripod to the camera. She could watch the Bonded and target do tricks with the dancer while she sat comfortably, far enough away to be invisible to them.
The Bonded learned to dance, and the dancer practiced tumbling. They were good. Reyah had spent stakeouts watching and listening to much less entertaining things. She never wanted to see a pig butchered again.
If they had music, she couldn’t hear it, but she moved her hands and feet along with them. Her training seemed to lie right at the intersection of gymnastics and dance. Watching both was like trying to understand a conversation in a second language that she could only partially hear.
She could roll and dodge projectiles. A handstand wasn’t impossible for her. Some of the arm movements of the dance might be effective ways to block a punch or disarm an attacker. The target observed it all, too, though with less enthusiasm than she did.
She should have been watching him. Or taking him. It was her job, and she’d resisted other temptations. She could resist him too. She didn’t want to hurt the dancer, an innocent bystander. Information would make the difference between a sloppy job and a neat one. How many times had her volatile emotions gotten her in trouble while training?
That’s why she waited. Tonight, she could get close enough to capture him. She knew she could. It fueled her excitement. She would focus all her energy and resist the glow. She would do the job because it’s what Tarone expected. Tonight. Not right now.
But she needed to move. Do something. No more idle hands. She headed back to the beach. The dancer must have a vehicle or something close by, so it made sense they would return to where they started.
She recast warding Spells and trackers. It was harder on the soft, shifting sand, but she wanted to cover her bases. Magic wasn’t precise or predictable. Her eyes and hands were more reliable.
The psychic pull of the van was strong enough that she could follow it without much trouble, so she left the coast to refuel. There were more questions that needed answers, but what to eat was a simple one. Where was the dancer hiding? What was the dancer hiding? Why was she all tangled up in Reyah’s already complicated job? Who were the rebels the Sharks were hunting? Why couldn’t she just get this job over with?
A flicker of light on the beach below caught her eye. She leaned out to see around a grass-tufted dune. In the shadow of the sand, there was a fire. And three bodies. The van was to the south. She could feel it, but the glow of the bonfire couldn’t hide the glow of the target.
Blood and ash. Dithering and dinner had distracted her. Watching the waves move languidly along the shore, she sent thanks to Poseidon for watching over her yet again. Who knew why the Water had taken to helping a dragonkin, but Reyah wasn’t going to turn down the aid.
She was grateful to be back in uniform. Tonight, she would live up to it, the colors perfect for blending into the shadows on pale sand. Dunes rose and fell, providing cover and high ground. With a little shimmer of magic, she got close enough to watch the little trio share a simple meal. Soon after, the target and Bonded lay down and got comfortable. The dancer said something and stood, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders before she headed off into the night.
Reyah smiled in the dark. This was the change in luck she needed. Sleeping target. Sleeping Bonded. No witnesses.
Standing slowly, she stretched and checked her pockets. Everything was in place. This was the moment she had been waiting for. Prepared and protected, she could place a sedative over the Bonded’s nose while he breathed deeply in his sleep, then do the same to the target. She could toss him over her shoulder and be back home with the soul safely delivered before the sun set again. It was perfect.
Reyah counted their sleeping breaths and watched the soul’s glow pulse and flicker. She was tensed, ready to stand as soon as she was certain they were asleep deeply enough. Minimize the struggle. Cautious was smart. Reckless Dragons died young.
She stopped cold. There was a sound she couldn’t place. A sound that didn’t belong on the beach. A screech of metal against metal, but without direction, coming from everywhere at once. It was too soft to be very close, but she swiveled her head in search of the source anyway. A key against a car door? The soft sand and lazy waves muffled everything. The crackle of the fire added to the confusion.
The target twitched in his sleep, rolling and resettling with a leg over the Bonded. He moved, and the sound stopped. Reyah cocked her head to the side and held her breath, but the sound was gone. She leaned forward in her crouch, hands resting on the sand. The soul still glimmered, but the sound was gone now.
She sighed and lifted herself up on her toes, but she nearly fell over when a sound came again. Different in pitch but louder and surrounding her. It was the sizzling of food cooking. She was sure of it, though it made no sense. There was no pan on the fire.
She knew that sound, though. She was hearing a meal being cooked, the occasional scrape of a spoon or spatula in a pot. The sounds were inside her head. Her mouth watered, and her heartbeat raced.
The target smiled in his sleep, content and warm. He was dreaming. Reyah squinted, trying to read the details of his face. The fire made shadows dance across his features, but her elliptical pupils worked well in the dark. What was he dreaming of? A home-cooked meal?
She knew it was true as soon as her mind put an image to the sound, but it made no sense. She was hearing his dre
ams? Was that possible? She’d never heard of anything like this happening.
The glow of his soul still called to her like a drug, like an embrace, but she was frozen by the sound. Murmured voices and laughter rang in her head. If she got closer, would she be able to decipher the words mixed into these dream sounds? Would she be able to hear the soul?
She shifted her weight to stand but stopped suddenly as she felt something jab into her back.
“Stay still if you want to keep that pretty skin intact, love.”
Caught
Reyah stiffened and cursed herself for being an idiot. Distracted by the bloody target. Again. Only now, she was pinned to a sandbank on some beach. Tarone wouldn’t like this at all.
“All right,” Reyah said slowly, hoping the pressure at her back would ease. It felt like a knife, and the voice was close enough that it probably wasn’t a very long one. The sand would make it difficult to turn with any speed or accuracy, but she felt confident she could disarm this amateur quickly if she needed to. If it was an amateur. She mentally kicked herself again for letting someone get the drop on her.
“Want to explain this little game of peekaboo you’re playing?” the voice rasped. A woman, middle-aged smoker by the sound of it. Reyah’s chances of success were increasing.
“Yeah. Relax, I’m not going to hurt anyone. Please don’t hurt me,” Reyah said in a rush. “Just checking out who was throwing a party on the beach.”
“In the dark?”
“I was bored. Looking for some fun when I saw the light and got curious.” It was mostly true. The best cover stories were. “Please, don’t hurt me. I didn’t mean any harm.” Reyah let her voice tremble.
“Well, harm or not, it’s rude at the very least,” the voice said, and the knife was withdrawn. “Now stand up, and let’s have a proper introduction.”
Reyah stood and shook herself off before turning. It gave her time to compose her face, and she needed it because the woman standing in front of her was not at all what she was picturing from the voice.
It was the dancer. Where she’d gotten a knife and the brass to sneak up on a stranger at night was a problem Reyah would work out later. For now, she needed to make the best of this.
“I’m Kaida,” Reyah said, letting her voice shake a little. Her anger at herself would be taken for fear if she were lucky.
“Well, Kaida,” the dancer said, “I don’t like intrusions, but I also don’t like being cold. So come sit with me and explain why you’re creeping about.” Reyah nodded and headed toward the fire. She admired the dancer for not putting away the knife or putting her back to a stranger.
Seated comfortably around the bonfire, Reyah couldn’t stop glancing at the two sleeping lumps.
“Don’t you worry about them. Just worry about me,” the dancer said. “I’m Dez, and I’ll hear your explanation now.”
Reyah coughed and rubbed the back of her neck. The sound of the target’s dreams was louder here. Another distraction.
She licked her lips quickly. “Like I said, I stopped to watch the sunset from the scenic overlook over there. I’m on a road trip,” Reyah said. “Just, you know, trying to figure some stuff out and get my head right. So I don’t have a destination. I’m following my gut or whatever.”
Dez arched an eyebrow. Her skin was tanned, and her hair glowed in the flickering light. “Why not come on up and say hello? Sunset is long gone.”
Reyah ducked her head and twirled the end of her braid. Dez’s voice was sharp but not cruel. If she was suspicious, it was only in the normal, human way. So Reyah took a deep breath and pulled up her sleeves. She pulled back her hood and faced Dez earnestly.
“Because I’ve had rotten luck with walking up to strangers before, especially near dark.”
Dez nodded and fell quiet for a while. The fire crackled, and Reyah resisted the urge to overexplain any more than she already had. Simplicity was best, she reminded herself.
“The world is out of balance,” Dez said finally. “So much so that things that should be natural, like common decency, have become rare enough to be notable.” The sharpness in Dez’s voice shook thoughts loose, thoughts Reyah didn’t want to explore.
“The world gets worse every day.” It was a vague answer but a true one.
“Law and order have become lawless chaos.”
“Not a fan of the Conglomerate?” Reyah tapped two fingers against her wrist. No system of government was universally loved.
“I’m Water-born. The Conglomerate isn’t a fan of me.”
“But dissent inspires debate, which makes things stronger. Rebellion is people trying to break the system instead of work with it.”
Dez stared into the fire. Reyah should be fighting and trying to take the target, but her brain was itching with questions, and an outside perspective was too tempting to refuse.
“Some things are too broken to fix from inside.” Dez’s eyes caught the flickering flames, and Reyah nodded slowly. It wasn’t the time for politics. It was time to do her job. Her hand lingered by her thigh, just a breath away from a small throwing knife.
“Either way, system or not, I’m sorry for your troubles,” Dez amended, reaching into the cooler and pulling out a bottle. She passed it to Reyah and stared at the fire. “We could all use more benefit of the doubt.”
“Thank you,” Reyah replied. She wasn’t sure if the thanks was for the kindness or the bottle, but either way, it was sincere. She moved her hand. Dez didn’t deserve to get hurt during this collection. Another opportunity would present itself. Reyah sipped from the bottle.
“I’ve heard a lot of rumors about dragonkin, but I’ve never met one myself,” Dez said, still looking at the fire.
“I’m sure it’s mostly bluster and wishful thinking, but I’m happy to tell you about my experience. Can’t say it’s universal, though. I’ve never met a dragonkin, either.”
Dez looked at her then. “No family?”
“Plenty of family, just no kin,” Reyah answered. She took another taste of the cider. It wasn’t too sweet, but it tasted like summer. One more sip wouldn’t hurt. “My dad did the best he could, you know? Taught me as much as he knew, but I was left on a doorstep, so he had to do his research too.”
“Harsh,” Dez said plainly. There was no pity in her voice like Reyah was used to. She’d used the poor-orphan sob story plenty of times to get close to targets before. She took another sip and handed the bottle back to Dez.
Reyah shrugged. “It felt normal to me. Only life I’ve known, right?”
“Sure. Lots of folks on the performing trail have similar stories. Families that weren’t right for them so they went out and built their own. I don’t know what it’s like where you’re from, but Water, we take ’em all in.” Dez poked the fire idly with a stick.
“You don’t ask the usual questions,” Reyah said after a moment.
“I don’t like the usual answers,” Dez said simply. “You said you’d tell me about your experience. So, what’s it like being dragonkin these days?”
“Better than it used to be, apparently. Old tapestries show us with tails and snouts, breathing fire like full dragons.” Reyah patted her nose and licked her lips. “I guess my teeth are a little sharper than normal, but I don’t have a forked tongue, and I keep my talons trimmed and blunted.”
“They look very nice.”
“Thanks. I try to cover whatever I can. Can’t do much about this color or the eyes, though.” Reyah rubbed at the tiny scale under her lip that she could never hide.
“So, you hide to fit in, making yourself less for the comfort of people you don’t know?”
Reyah’s eyebrows came down, and she tried to explain. “No, I try to remain inconspicuous so that I don’t get ridiculed or run out of town. It’s for my comfort. And protection.”
“Hiding is comfortable?”
“No, but it’s better than the alternative. It keeps me safe. I can’t go around listening to people ask about my wings or my tail
or my teeth all the time. It’s tedious. I don’t eat babies or drink blood. I can tear men limb from limb, but I don’t. I haven’t in a long time at least.” Reyah tried to smile.
Dez just blinked slowly.
“That was supposed to be a joke,” Reyah clarified. “I’ve never torn any living creature limb from limb. My dad taught me how to control my strength when I was very young.”
“Control is good, but don’t forget the value in letting loose a little, too, love. Everything in moderation, including moderation.” Dez took another sip of the cider and extended the bottle back to Reyah.
She shook her head. “I should go get some sleep,” Reyah said. She glanced at the target, who was sleeping peacefully, or at least quietly now.
“Go in peace, Kaida, and may the road lead you to understanding.”
Learning
“Come on, sleeping beauties,” Dez said gently. “You’ve had a nice nap, but you should head back to the van and get some real sleep. It’s not safe to stay all night on the beach.”
Andy roused slowly, trying to blink away the echo of dreams. He was warm, and everything felt heavy. Rubbing his eyes, he noticed that Cass had him pinned under one long leg. He shook his head and untangled himself. Cass needed so much reassurance physically and verbally. It was exhausting sometimes. At least when they were sleeping, it was easier.
Andy stood up and dragged a grumbling and reluctant Cass with him. He noticed the bottle of cider sitting out again. He was sure Dez had put it away before they had gone to sleep. From the amount that was left, he was surprised at how calm and sober Dez sounded.
“Thanks for dinner and stuff. And filling up the tank. You didn’t need to do that,” Andy said through the fog of sleep.
“I’m aware. But you gave me some ideas for new material.” Dez dusted Andy’s back off. “Now go. You can find me at Tiburon in the morning, if you’re not too sore to keep practicing. If the weather is nice, we might even try busking a bit.” Dez was pulling her things together with practiced ease. She was so competent and cool.