by IGMS
"So? These families are smiling, even though they're all different. One kid. Lots of kids. Adopted kids. Korea, Brazil, England, USA. It doesn't matter. Your family might not be what you thought it was, but I don't see why you can't be happy, too."
Cassie sneered at me. "Have you ever read the Bible? God might love these people, but he doesn't love dragons."
I knew a couple debates to the contrary, but I doubted Cassie wanted a theological lecture. I softened my tone and started picking up LEGOs. "Then tell me about what happens to dragons when they die."
"Some dragons believe in heaven and hell, some believe in reincarnation, some are atheists."
"True, but what happens here when a dragon dies? At their funeral?"
Her eyes pinched. "We lay out the dragon's body. Everyone breathes fire on the dead, then we all eat it, then bury the bones."
"Right. And why do we do that?"
Cassie paused. "We all breathe fire together to hope the departed will remember us. And to show that we loved him."
"Right." I swallowed hard, trying not to think of my grandma's funeral, and standing back while everyone else took dragonform. Everyone else breathed fire while I stood in the cold, rubbing my arms. "And do you know why we eat the body afterwards?"
Cassie tilted her head to the side. "Because . . . we don't let food go to waste?"
"It's to remember the dead. A piece of them lives in us, unites us."
Cassie's brow wrinkled. "I didn't eat any of Grandpa. I just kept the scale Ethan saved for me."
I struggled to keep my voice level. My relatives devoured Grandma without even thinking to save some for me. "Cassie, there's nothing stopping you from being part of this family. You can eat that scale and keep your Grandfather with you. Your parents love you. You can be as happy as the families in those pictures."
"Those families are all perfect," Cassie sneered.
"I don't think there's such a thing as perfect, even among happy families. Lillian wishes her kids all lived a lot closer."
Cassie peered at me. I don't think it occurred to her that the old woman had a life outside of annoying her.
"I bet distance doesn't stop Lillian's family from loving each other. I don't see why a rude uncle or a detail of birth should stop you any more than a few thousand miles. You can choose to make this family work."
"It's not as simple as that."
"Isn't it?" My voice cracked, even though I was trying to focus on the present, not my past. "Maybe they're all humans, but in this house, you're all dragons. What's keeping you apart?"
Cassie paused. She peered at the magazine. Then at me. "You . . . you're not really either. Human or dragon."
She spoke softly, but a slap would have been kinder.
"No. I'm not."
I couldn't continue this conversation. I left and locked myself in the bathroom, washing my face a dozen times and pretending I didn't have a lump in my throat the size of a grapefruit.
Grandma hadn't cared that I had a rare birth defect, that I couldn't change form. She taught me everything she knew about being a doula, anyway.
But I still couldn't participate in her funeral. I'd never participate in any funerals. I couldn't even have kids, because I couldn't change to dragonform to lay the egg -- it would just grow inside of me until its shell crushed all my internal organs. Even if I managed to adopt, no one could hold a dragon's funeral to remember me.
Cassie could be part of a dragon family. I never would.
Allison's voice yanked me from my thoughts. "Fern! Fern! The egg is moving!"
I rushed in. I briefly checked the egg -- one hairline crack, hatching definitely starting -- then soothed Allison. The baby needed a calm mother.
As far as hatchings go, this was textbook. Well, if there was a textbook for dragon doulas, this would have been it. The baby shifted between dragon and human as it kicked and wriggled, eventually settling on dragon to tear the shell apart. The little guy didn't inhale any egg mucous, and waited until there was a sizeable hole to wriggle out.
The baby sniffed, and blindly stumbled toward Allison, half-floating, tail dragging behind on the floor. Once in her arms, he -- it was a boy -- turned human. His tail shrunk. His face broadened. Eight pounds of lithe, airbound dragon became eight pounds of chubby human.
I wiped him down, took his vitals, then paused a moment to watch Allison's face. Such warmth as she smiled down at her infant. Such tenderness. Such family.
I helped her get him situated for nursing, then let them be. A content baby would stay in whatever shape his mother was in -- they'd be fine.
I washed my hands at the kitchen sink. There's something amazing and humbling about helping a new life into this world. And something bitter about knowing I'll never be the mother holding the child.
Through the kitchen window, I glimpsed Cassie, sitting on the porch. My job as doula wasn't done.
I stepped outside and sat next to her. The sun had set, leaving the grass cool and rippling under the stars.
Cassie shifted. She snapped something in half, then handed it to me. It smelled of too many smokes to discern. "Here."
"What's this?" I asked. It was flat, about as wide as an apricot.
Her legs dangled over the edge of the porch. "My grandfather's scale."
"I . . ." my throat tightened. "This isn't mine."
Cassie waved her piece. "I still have some. I think you're right. I think my mom does love me. I'm part of this family. And I have a choice. But I wanted to share it with you. You listened to me . . . you hatched my sibling. You're like family, too."
Cassie munched quietly.
The scale felt gritty against my skin and, oddly, still warm. I felt its round edges, then took a small nibble. Then a bite. It tasted like charred biscuits, but I couldn't imagine a sweeter flavor.
Maybe this didn't link me to my family, but I was part of something larger than myself. Part of a dragon family.
Then nothing exploded. Crickets chirped. The moon glowed over the trees. Other than our crunching, the world lay still.
I let my feet dangle and swing over the porch, just like Cassie's.
Fire Born, Water Made
by Adria Laycraft
Artwork by Andres Mossa
* * *
Chahna let the babe suckle, yet still no milk would come. He cried, and she sparked a trickle of fire to run along her fingertips. Her little firelord only cried harder, fists punching the air.
She let the fire die and his panic settled into mere cries of hunger. Exhaustion made her body heavy. She put him to her shoulder.
"Please, Taksheel, don't cry," she whispered, but nothing would sooth him. Chahna clucked and cooed and cried right along with him.
When she rose to walk him, her father stood in the doorway. She caught her breath, and held Taksheel tighter. By some small grace of the gods, the babe quieted.
"Give him to me." Fire licked along his bare arms and trailed from his fingertips.
"Father --"
"His ceremony approaches." His glower warned her. "I will not risk public shame. Bad enough you are now spoiled for any decent marriage contract. Give him to me."
His fire grew and she stepped back. He seemed almost hungry for the child. There was only one way to forestall him. Chahna looked up at her father through a veil of saltwater mist. "Let me take the babe to a Vaidya."
He studied her for a long moment, and she feared he would not even allow this one concession. Then he gave a sharp nod. "I am leaving to meet with our merchants. If you don't have proof of his firelord status when I return, then you will be forced to surrender him to me. Understood?"
She simply stood with her gaze downcast, chin tucked to her chest. When she finally dared look, her father was gone.
Taksheel began to cry again. Chahna sighed, and set him on blankets of silk so she could heat more goats' milk. In drips and dribbles, he drank from the cloth until his eyes drooped closed. She changed his wraps, glad for this moment of peace,
but she saw his ribs, his sunken cheeks, his weakness.
What stupidity made her believe Jalesh when he claimed to be born of a high family? As a firelord Kumara, she knew she could only be paired with a true Kanwar, a prince of equal caste. In her deepest heart, she must have known he wasn't worthy, or she never would have kept their affair secret from her parents.
Why hadn't she demanded the truth of him?
She knew why. He had soothed her fires and watered the garden of her heart. She knew, she knew, but she never believed it would come to this, Jalesh dead of firefever and their child in danger.
But if Taksheel passed the ceremony as a proven firelord baby, it would no longer matter who his father was before the fever. All she had to do was ensure he did pass.
Chahna called for her servant girl. "Bring me one of your saris."
Pani brought the simple wool sari, blue to mark her as a water slave. Chahna held the rough fabric between trembling fingers.
"Mistress?"
"Yes, Pani?"
"What do you intend?"
Chahna held Pani's fearful gaze until the girl looked away. She kept her head down after that, just as Chahna had before her father.
"Be sure no one enters my chambers tonight."
"Yes, Mistress."
Chahna changed into the homespun sari, flinching as it chafed her flesh. With teeth set hard against her fears, she took her son and left the palace through her private gardens.
Mandore, the Sun City of daily fire and heat. The markets teemed around her as the day waned into evening. Vendors hawked anything one might need -- jewelry, cushions, spices, and candles, as well as lesser silks and food for every taste.
Chahna tucked Pani's wool sari over her face, doing her best to blend in with the other women in the market. She needed to assuage her suspicions without risk of being gossiped about, and that meant a Vaidya that did not know any high caste families. She entered a doorway under the sign of holy fire, Taksheel tucked within the folds of the rough sari. A low caste Vaidya crouched on the rug crushing herbs, his grey beard stained with tobacco. Scattered around him were baskets of cardamom and black cumin seeds, and bundles of dried mint and basil in various stages of drying. Tea steamed in a pot, and glass bottles with strange stoppers lined the shelves behind him. He rolled his eyes up to peer at her. Flies hounded him, and the fragrance of the turmeric he crushed could not overpower his stench.
Chahna swallowed. This man was nothing like the high-caste Vaidya she was used to seeing when illness or injury struck. She tried to speak, swallowed hard, and tried again.
"My milk will not come," she said. She pulled back her sari to reveal the babe. "He fades away before my eyes."
Her health, diet, and sleep patterns were questioned, as well as the quality of water she drank. She assured him all was better than he could imagine and passed him two gold coin, fire no doubt flickering in her eyes.
"Please just examine the babe."
The man's eyes narrowed as he took in her blue slave clothing. He opened his mouth, his gaze meeting hers again, then closed it tight, asking no more questions. He indicated where she could lay the child as he tucked the gold away with a clink of coin.
He examined Taksheel, muttering prayers while he laid out different element stones. One by one he laid a sliver of each against the babe's skin. The gold made Taksheel flinch and wail and left a red welt. Chahna blinked away tears, holding back the fire of her protectiveness in fists clenched. A piece of oxide had no effect, but the polished sliver of limestone from the enemy lands of the waterborn made Taksheel stop crying, suck in his breath, and hiccup. When the Vaidya lifted the element away, the welt was gone.
"I am sorry, this boy is no fireborn," said the Vaidya. He watched her, though he tried not to be obvious about it. "What do you know of the father?"
This question, spoken so light, woke all her fear.
"A good man," she replied, lifting Taksheel back into the safety of her embrace.
"Where is he now?"
"Dead."
The Vaidya raised an eyebrow. "If the babe is waterlord . . ."
Chahna rose on shaking legs and pressed more gold into his hand. "Thank you, kind Vaidya."
He stopped her retreat with a hand on her forearm, waking fire in her. He released her, eyes wide, but still spoke his mind. "It would be a kindness to end it. He cannot thrive here, nor can you feed one such as him."
Chahna gazed down at the tiny sleeping form. "I know." She raised a hopeful face to the Vaidya. "Although, maybe . . ." she began, but the twist of disgust in the old man's face made the thought die inside, unuttered.
"You would soil another by taking their birthright?"
Shame soured her stomach, and she hung her head.
"No."
His expression softened, and he patted her arm. "Call for me when you are ready, Kumara. I will make it quick and painless."
She had other ideas.
She braved the blood-hot streets now shrouded in the depths of night. The crowds had thinned, and wild monkey packs hooted at her as she descended into the bowels of Mandore. With a piece of gold she purchased both a guide and safety in a teenage cinder. No firelord, he would endure a low caste all his life. The gold would at least let him buy comfort and sustenance, for some time to come if he spent it wisely.
The cinder boy led her into streets so dirty she covered Taksheel completely with her sari. The cinder ran ahead, dodging through crowds of people, goats, carts, and vendors. It took her a moment to understand why he did not treat her as befitted her rank. Then she realized the blue sari and plain sandals marked her as a slave, not worthy of any respect at all.
Chahna hurried after him as best she could. Her head spun as the cinder ducked this way and that, turning her completely around. Then, at a doorway like hundreds of others they had passed, he pushed aside a dirty woven rug and waved her into the dimly lit room beyond. Within, she found a place so foul the rug over the doorway was blissful in comparison. She wished she had thought to bring a satchel of cinnamon or a press of jasmine to place under her nose. Better, she wished she could fire this hole until it burned clean.
"Pretty lady, please be welcome, sit here. I am Sandeep. Tell me what this humble servant can do for you."
His smile spoke of greed, not kindness, but Chahna sat. "I have a need for your services, kind ramanah," she said. "I need a birthright."
"Pah, I can see the fire in you, my lady. You have no need of me, surely . . ."
She let her sari fall open enough to see the baby hidden there.
"By all the gods," he said, his voice harsh. He sat hard on the small goatskin stool across from her chair. "Is this babe yours?" When she nodded, he spat to one side in disgust. "The man who raped you, I curse him to the seventh watery hell. Such an abomination should never be allowed to live." His assumptions angered her, but she held her wrath tight within and fingered two more gold pieces in her hidden purse in case it was needed. She wondered if a knife might have been wiser insurance.
"Please, good ramanah, tell me you can change this poor child's fate. I cannot bear to kill him."
He shook his head in disgust, but his greed won over. "I have no one immediately available, my lady, but I can send the boy when one comes along."
She released the hidden gold, took a deep breath, and said, "No, good ramanah, I do not wish to steal a birthright from another. You will take mine."
He stared so long she took a breath to repeat herself, only to have the ramanah bark out a laugh that stole all her hope away.
"You cannot give an adult's fire to an infant . . . it is a boy, no? Even worse!" he cried when she nodded. "No, my lady, I cannot help you today. Find me a fireborn boy child, no more than a year old. Only then will it work."
The cinder boy was gone when she emerged into the narrow street, but the light of dawn pinked the sky, guiding her home. By the time she stumbled into her courtyard, Taksheel screamed in hunger and seemed to weigh double what he did an h
our before.
Pani came at once, taking the boy and following Chahna into the chambers. Taksheel needed fed, but she couldn't even bear to try to nurse again.
"Feed him best you can, Pani," she said, turning away before the girl even answered. Chahna went into her bathing chambers and let a whirlwind of fire and sand score her clean. What good was it to be of the powerful firelord caste if she could not save her son?
Chahna let the fire burn away any tears that dared fall. She stepped out calm, took up a fresh silk sari, and wrapped, tucked, and draped it, finding comfort in the ritual and the fine touch of luxury.
Then she sought out her mother. She was not with her ladies or in the gardens, so Chahna climbed the tower to find her on a balcony staring out over the city.
Her mother turned at the sound of her approach. Chahna wanted to run to her as if she were still a girl and bury her face in the warm folds of sari. Instead, she was stopped short by a fierce gaze.
"Daughter."
There would be no understanding, yet still Chahna tried.
"He said he was a true prince."
Her mother turned away. "I fear he told you the truth. This is the problem. You have borne a waterlord child, and if you will not do what needs done, the ceremony will reveal his source to your father."
Chahna's fire leaked beyond her control. "You would have me kill a babe, my get, to save yourself some embarrassment?"
Her mother's nostrils flared. "Embarrassment? No, daughter, it will be much worse than that. The elements don't mix, and water drowns fire. Your father and his kin have sought a way to conquer water for generations. What do you think they will do to the babe? And how do you think they will treat you?" Now her mother's gaze narrowed, cold, hard. "If you don't make that thing disappear before your father returns, you will suffer far worse than embarrassment, my daughter. The child will be taken from you. You will be disowned, sold, and branded as a slave, your birthright stripped away, your face scored forever. There is no worse fate for a firelord princess. Death would be a kindness, for both of you."
Chahna turned away. Her father's hungry look made more sense now.