by Jo Walton
Haner might have settled into enjoying it, had the company been more congenial.
After a day or two, Haner noticed that her attendant was moving very stiffly. “Come here, Lamith,” she said. Haner ran her fingers over Lamith’s back and soon found that the bindings on her wings were so tight they had caused a sore, which was rubbing raw as she moved.
“Let me loosen that and dress it with a salve,” Haner suggested.
“Thank you, ’Spec, but I don’t think I could do that,” the attendant said, ducking her head nervously. “Master doesn’t like us to have our wings untied.”
“Just for a minute, while I treat it, and then they should be bound back more loosely,” Haner said. “I’d be happy to tell Berend and Illustrious Daverak myself and explain that it’s not insubordination on your part but concern for your welfare on mine.”
“Please don’t tell him I’m ailing, ’Spec!” Lamith seemed desperate. She cowered away from Haner. Haner was not a large dragon, a mere twenty feet, but Lamith was barely six, and seemed hardly more than a dragonet as she shrank away. “It’s just a little sore. I’ve had them before.”
“I won’t tell them if you don’t want me to,” Haner said, astonished. “But if it is left like that it will hurt you, and it might make part of your wing weak so that you could never fly again.”
“Fly?” Lamith said. “I’ll never fly again no matter what. I’ll work here until I weaken, and that’ll be the end of it.”
“Many things might happen,” Haner said, encouragingly. “There are servants who fly, even if you never leave the condition. Some establishments employ servants to fly to the station to collect the mail. Amer, our servant at Agornin, who has gone now to Benandi, used to fly out regularly to gather herbs for medicine.”
“Yes, and doubtless you trusted her to come back,” Lamith said. “That isn’t the way of things here, ’Spec, there’s no trust on either side and we know we’re bound for good.”
Haner’s gentle silver eyes were sad. “It’s not what I’m used to,” she said.
“Never mind, ’Spec, things could be worse. We’re well fed here, and we know our families get the good of it.”
“The bond payment, you mean?” Haner asked.
“That isn’t much, in Daverak. But any family who has a member in service at the Place knows their other hatchlings have more of a chance of growing up. And we’re not dead and eaten, after all.”
“Are you saying Daverak eats dragonets that are not weaklings?” Haner asked, in horror.
“He will if he says the family can’t manage so many,” Lamith said. “Please don’t say I said anything about it. They eat us if we’re ailing, and it doesn’t take much to make them think so these days, not with Illust’ Berend increasing and hungry all the time. I’m only saying this to you to stop you saying things out of kindness that would make matters worse.”
“I can’t believe Berend would condone any such thing,” Haner said, decisively. “Daverak, maybe, but Berend is my sister and knows how things were done in Agornin.”
“When she first came and she was shocked at anything, the Illustrious told her not to be provincial,” Lamith said. “That’s how I know how much trouble saying things kindly can cause. Now she keeps her eyes on the roof and acts more Illustrious than he is. I’m sorry to say these things, ’Spec, but it’s nothing but the truth and you need to know it.”
“I am going to put salve on your wing,” Haner said, taking the salve out of the box Amer had made up for her before she left home. “I’ll bind it up very tightly again afterwards, if you insist, but I am not going to be served by a dragon with an unsightly sore like that. It’s stopping you doing your duties, and easily curable. That’s what I shall say, if anyone says anything, which they won’t. They won’t notice.”
“Likely not,” Lamith said, and sat still to submit to Haner’s ministrations. “That feels a deal better,” she said, when Haner had bound her up again. “Now let me arrange your hat for tonight, ’Spec.”
Haner lay awake for a long time that night, turning on her comfortable bed of gold as if it had been slate. She had known all her life that the conditions of servitude were harsh. Yet she had never truly understood it until Lamith cringed away from the offer of salve. She had thought of Amer and the other servants at Agornin, whose service was hereditary and seemed almost as comfortable to them as to their masters. She wondered how much of that was mere seeming. But Lamith’s sore was real, and so was her fear. She had read of the conditions of factory workers with bound wings. She flexed her own wings nervously. She wanted to do something about it, and had not the least idea where she could possibly start or what she could possibly achieve. She could not even think of anyone she could talk to about the subject, except Selendra, who was so far away. She would write. She would write in the morning. So resolved, she was able to find uneasy sleep at last.
30. THE WRIT ARRIVES
The next evening, unusually, the family were dining alone. It had been raining all day and not even Daverak had been far from home. Haner had not been out at all. Berend was due to produce another egg at any moment, making her snappish and disinclined for company. The three of them and the two surviving dragonets gathered in the Speaking Room, where the native rock was inlaid with marble and limestone pebbles according to the fashion. Berend could not settle at all but kept pacing.
The two dragonets, one gold and one black, both had the same huge pinkish eyes as their father. They sat silently beside Haner, shoulders together. They had been very quiet since Lamerak was taken from them. Perhaps they missed him, or perhaps they feared that they might join him at any moment. Haner spread her wing over them caressingly for a moment. They looked up at her but barely smiled.
“It seems so dreary to be alone this way,” Berend said, pausing in her pacing.
“It was your decision,” Daverak replied, waving a claw in front of a great yawn that showed his huge strong teeth.
“I know, and it seemed like a good one this morning, because I didn’t want to see anyone. But it seems terribly dreary now,” Berend said.
“It’s cozy, being just family for once,” Haner said, peaceably.
Berend snapped her teeth as if to bite her sister’s remark. “Cozy is one way of putting it. Dreary is my way, and much more accurate. Don’t you wish Londaver were here, Han?”
The Dignified Londaver, living so close, was a frequent guest, as were his parents. He did not seem to single Haner out for any attentions now, which Berend had noticed, so it was cruel of her to mention him.
“I should think she’d welcome any company but yours tonight,” Daverak remarked.
Before Berend could retort, or Haner think of any calming reply, a servant came in with a packet of papers in his claws.
“The mail has arrived,” Daverak remarked. He had a bad habit of pointing out things that were perfectly obvious.
“Anything for me?” Berend asked.
“Almost all of it, doubtless,” Daverak said, sorting through it idly and handing a large pile to Berend. “Two for me, one from my broker, and one from my attorney. And here’s one for you, Haner,” he said, passing over a folded and sealed letter.
“It’s from Selendra,” she said, smiling, looking at the seal.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” Berend asked.
“I thought I’d save it for after dinner,” Haner said, meekly. “Are yours interesting?”
“Just invitation cards, hardly any of which I’ll be able to manage until I’m through with the clutch,” Berend said, leafing through her pile of mail desultorily. Then Daverak gave a snarl which caused the children to huddle together in fear and both the adults to turn their attention to him. Berend even dropped some of her cards.
“What is it, dear?” Berend asked, sounding really concerned. Daverak was at all times black, now he seemed almost purple.
“I cannot believe he has the audacity,” Daverak snarled.
“Who?” Berend asked.
Haner knew immediately. She had been hoping Avan would change his mind, and she had not imagined a writ could have been obtained so quickly.
“Your wretched brother and sister are taking me to court over the issue of your father’s body.”
“Haner?” Berend asked, turning to her.
“No, no,” Haner said, feeling that she might well have been devoured on the spot had she joined her name to Avan’s in his venture.
“No, Haner knows which beef to leave for breakfast,” Daverak said, flinging down the paper savagely. “You have two sisters, in case you’ve forgotten. Did you know about this, Haner?”
“What?” Haner asked, genuinely frightened.
“This attempt to take me to court to recover the flesh I ate from your father’s body, as was judged correct and in accordance with your father’s wishes by Blessed Frelt at the time, if you remember.”
Daverak’s jaws were scant claw-widths from Haner’s throat, she shrank back in fear. She had never seen Daverak so incensed. “Avan said something about it in anger at the time,” she said. “I had no idea he had actually done anything about it.” This was the truth, though she had known he would.
“I’ll sue him back, reclaim your share of the gold the two of them took, and Berend’s too,” Daverak raged, moving away across the room. The dragonets crawled closer to Haner and sheltered under her wing.
“We don’t need gold, darling,” Berend said, very calmly.
“Then it can all go to Haner’s dowry. You were saying the other day you wanted us to add to it so she could make a good match.” Haner had known nothing of this and gasped a little now it was mentioned. “Very well,” Daverak said savagely. “Let’s add that to it. Twenty-four thousand crowns and whatever your brother Avan has saved up from the bribes of his office will make her more attractive, wouldn’t you say? As she has thrown in her lot with us, and not with those scheming adventurers I was stupid enough to treat as family. You have thrown your lot in with us, haven’t you, Haner?”
“Yes,” Haner whispered, feeling the bodies of her niece and nephew tight against her, and knowing she had no other choices at that moment.
“I’ve never seen you so angry, darling,” Berend said, putting a hand caressingly on Daverak’s arm. “Shouldn’t you calm down a little? You look as if you might explode.”
“I’ll go up to Irieth tomorrow and see my attorney,” Daverak raged, shaking her off. “I won’t let them get away with this. The impertinence of it. I’ll take every crown they have, I’ll fight it all the way. And I’ll make Penn come into court and admit Bon didn’t say anything about it on his deathbed. He as good as said that at the time. I’ll teach them to think they can get anything out of me this way. I’m good to my family, and I was prepared to be good to yours, Berend, see how I agreed to take Haner in!”
“I know, darling, I know, and I’d never have imagined they could all be so terribly ungrateful. I always knew you were right and they were wrong,” Berend crooned.
“This piece of brazen effrontery is even worse than I expected,” Daverak said, holding up the writ and scowling at it. As he did, all of a sudden, smoke came out of his nostrils, and a jet of fire streamed out of his mouth and set the writ blazing. He dropped it abruptly and set sejant for a moment, his claws held out in front of him.
“You have fire, darling,” Berend said, smothering the burning writ with her tail. “Just let me put this out before it makes a stink.”
“Fire,” Daverak said, sounding quite pleased with himself. “I had no idea it was so close.” He breathed out another experimental gout of fire.
“Maybe you should practice outside until you can control it well,” Berend suggested, practically.
“I shall do that tomorrow,” Daverak said. “Fire, and I’m not three hundred yet.”
“They are signalling that dinner is ready at last,” Berend said.
Daverak frowned at his wife.
“They say early fire is a sign of greatness,” Haner ventured, not adding the frequent corollary that early fire was a sign of early death. Flame was certainly a strain to a dragon’s system. Her father had used his seldom but judiciously.
Daverak smiled at her, exposing teeth that had been blackened by his blasts of fire. “Thank you for the confidence,” he said, attempting his usual languid tone, but far too excited to achieve it. “Now, by all means let us eat before some of us starve to death amid the excitement.”
31. A SECOND DINNER PARTY
As the family were alone, dinner consisted of six muttons, their skin and wool removed before they reached the table by farmers expert in that craft. Wool, and whole muttonwool fleeces, were much prized in millinery. The fleeces would be sent to the cities and reappear in the form of cunningly contrived headcoverings. Daverak immediately took hold of the largest and began to rend and tear at it. Berend took up another. Haner, with the dragonets still close to her, began on a third. The dragonets soon crept out and began to eat, only to cower again when Daverak’s flame erupted again, engulfing the haunch of mutton he had in his claw, filling the whole room with the scent of seared meat.
“I do think it would be a better idea to practice outside,” Haner said, when the gout of flame came a little close to her tail.
“Nonsense, it’s perfectly safe,” Daverak said, selecting a second mutton and doing it again.
“I wonder why it is that there is a prohibition on cooking meat?” Berend said, conversationally, swallowing a great bite of the fatty underbelly of her mutton. “It smells rather pleasant.”
“Flaming at it isn’t cooking it,” Daverak said, looking a little guilty.
“Oh, I see, how foolish of me,” Berend said, and gave a little snort that might have been laughter at her foolishness or might just have been part of her digestion. She was gulping down her meat rapidly.
“The prohibition is because the filthy Yarge do it,” Daverak said, turning his seared haunch in his claw a little as if wondering if it would make him a social pariah to eat it. “That’s what they told me in school anyway. Apparently they tried to make us do it during the Conquest, and it was one of the reasons we revolted. Disgusting cooked meat sticks in the craw. That’s what they said, anyway. I’ve never tried it myself.”
“Is the haunch you flamed disgusting?” Berend asked.
“I already said that was different from cooking,” Daverak said, frowning.
“But how does it taste?” Berend asked. “As cooked meat is illegal, that’s probably the closest I’ll ever come to seeing any, and it does smell pleasant, or at least interesting. How does it taste?”
“The same as always, only a little warmer,” Daverak said, taking a tentative taste. “Besides, if you really want to try cooked meat there are places in Irieth you can get it. It’s one of those thrills some dragons go in for. I never fancied it myself, but a few years before I married you there was a fad for going off to the Migantine quarter to try it. I don’t think anyone went more than once.”
The conversation then turned to reminiscing about fads of past Irieth seasons. Haner, naturally, could have little part in this, but she ate and made occasional remarks to keep the conversation on this neutral topic. She also made sure the dragonets ate their share, or more than their share. She was not hungry. When the servants returned to remove the bones and sponge down everyone’s scales to remove drops of blood, all the mutton had been eaten. Daverak had taken three, Berend two, and Haner and the dragonets between them only one.
After dinner, Daverak announced that he would be going out to taste the wind, by which everyone understood that he intended to practice using his fire. The nanny returned to take charge of the dragonets. Berend settled down couchant in front of the mantel, beckoning Haner to sit beside her. Haner would much have preferred to withdraw to her room, but felt sorry for poor Berend, abandoned by her husband when she was in such a delicate condition. She accordingly took her place beside her sister and sat back on her own haunches. “I can’t think what
possessed Avan to be so idiotic,” Berend said.
“You know he was counting on that flesh,” Haner said. “You know he needs to make his own way in the world. He’s working in the Planning and Beautification Office, that’s very competitive. There are dragons there who would eat him first and face an inquiry cheerfully afterwards when he wasn’t there to stop their bribing the judges. He needs his position, and that means he needed father’s flesh far more than Daverak possibly could.”
“Oh yes, I understand all that. I only took one bite myself, you know.”
“One big bite,” Haner said, for she still resented Berend’s one bite.
“And you took your share, did you not? You are a foot or two longer than you were.” Berend measured Haner with her eyes. “Don’t worry, we’ll find you a husband yet,” she said, more kindly.
“Not by ruining Avan!” Haner objected.
“Daverak’s very angry,” Berend said. “You saw that. Usually I can make him do what I want, eventually, but that one might be hard to get him to relent. That’s what I meant about Avan being an idiot. If he’d just left it, after a while I’d have had Daverak invite him here after this clutch was all finished, at a time when there was a cull and he could have made it up. I had him halfway around to agreeing to add a little gold to your share as well. He likes you.”
“He has a strange way of showing it, shouting at me that way,” Haner said.
“If he didn’t like you it wouldn’t just have been shouting,” Berend said, placidly.
Haner stared at her, but she just shook her head a little. “What do you mean?” Haner asked.
“I mean he likes you, and you should be glad he does. But now Avan has got on his bad side, and he’ll hound him. He really will ruin him if he can, and I don’t think there’ll be anything you or I can do to help him, and I’m warning you not to try.”
“Avan was quite confident he could win,” Haner said.
“Avan with father’s attorney up against all that Daverak can hire? You were the one who mentioned that there are judges for sale, and if necessary I doubt Daverak would hesitate. We just have to think of Avan as lost, because of his own foolishness in pushing this. I’m sorry, I’ve lost a father and a son this month, now I have to face losing a brother too.”