by Pam Uphoff
Agate rattled again. "I will consider that possibility. Appalling though the thought is at first glance." She settled down beside the eggs. "Now, what are you doing out here in this howling wilderness with two young wizards?"
Nil gave her a brief on his travels. She was delighted to hear that he'd retrieved some of the old Library of Scoone. And intrigued with his description of the sword he'd taken from the Civic Hall.
"That will enable you to locate, or at least identify, children with wizard talent, so you can castrate them."
Nil grinned wryly. "I don't think that is going to be much of an option, these days. I may just nurture the genes, and keep them around in case of future dire need."
"Hmph! What about your two apprentices?"
"They aren't proper apprentices, by Scoone standards, but they'll do as a way to keep the knowledge alive. Along with the girl wizards. Question looks very promising, by the way."
Agate chuckled, softly. "Are you trying to make me homesick? You very nearly succeed."
"You are much missed. We had to take the accounts away from Harry. Blissful is fighting her way through them now. We may actually get desperate enough to hire a town clerk."
Agate roared with laughter at that. "Oh, a village full of gods, witches, mages, and wizards. And not a one that can keep simple accounts."
"It's not that we can't do them, there's just so much else to do, we keep falling behind."
"Oh yes. Second or third in importance to you. That is not good. Not at all." She huffed out a warm breath. "You need a bank, a cash economy instead of that appalling point system you lot pretended worked."
It was Nil's turn to laugh. "Missing your treasure?"
"A bit," the dragon admitted. "But flying again! Ah, that's worth all the treasure in the World."
"Spoken like a true Dragon!" Nil frowned at the eggs. "How long do they take to hatch? How fast do baby dragons grow? I may not have done you any favors, in the timing of this clutch."
"Here in this strange place I'll be able to find all the crocodiles I need to feed the hatchlings. I haven't the faintest idea how long hatching takes. I recall being able to fly shortly after my third year. Your presence here may make the hunting more difficult."
"On the other hand, we'll be delighted to guard the babies while you hunt. In the spring the bison will move north to the prairie areas just south-east of here. We'll leave, and you and your youngsters can leave the Rip to get away from the crocodiles. Hmm, if you like, while the days are still a bit warm, I could build a steep sided nest out on the plain it would keep your babies in and any predators out."
"Thank you wizard. I would appreciate having such a facility."
"Building is the only way I can show the advantages of the human form."
"Don't be modest, wizard. I have flown over the works of man, worn them, lived in them, walked upon them, and cried for the sheer beauty of them. In many ways I might have been content to live all my life as a human. Indeed, I shall have to seriously consider your suggestion."
So Dydit found himself babysitting dragon eggs on a regular basis.
It was a lot like herding sheep but even easier. The eggs, after all, couldn't go anywhere, and the only predators were delicious.
And, like sheep herding, it gave him a lot of thinking time. He perched on a rock overlooking the nest and gazed over the geysers and down to the river.
What was he going to do now?
Only halfway through the winter and he had learned more from Nihility than he'd known previously. Not just in number of spells memorized, but he was beginning to see the logic behind the forms of the spells. Why they were constructed in a specific order, the purpose of the rhythm of a spell, how words, tones and cadences twisted the mind and the mental energies . . . He was actually breaking spells. Of course the whole net of spells had been ruptured by the breaking of the master spell, but that hadn't helped him before. Nil had cleaned up the goat spell, but left a lot of the remaining net of spells and spell fragments. Possibly so Dydit could practice on them. More likely so the Tyrant could take control at need. But now Dydit was able to analyze and dissolve spell shreds.
He wouldn't be welcome in Ash. The goats hadn't been popular before the others raped the mage girls. And if a certain witch ever found out she hadn't seduced the army officer she'd selected, he'd be toast. That was unexpectedly painful. It wasn't like she was the only witch he'd ever lusted over, even though she'd been the only one he'd actually wanted badly enough to dare . . . But she'd nearly killed him, and no doubt could do so at will. So he couldn't stay.
Would Nil let him go?
Ah. Now there was a question.
No matter how unpopular, how despised as a goat and/or rapist, no matter how much more he wanted to learn, if Nil said go, he would leave. If Nil said stay, he'd stay.
Well, so much for needing to make a decision.
He jerked around as movement at the edge of his field of sight caught his attention. One of the eggs rocked a bit. He frowned and climbed down. Could some small animal be molesting the eggs from out of sight. He had a hideous vision of hollowed out eggs . . . he shifted the egg gently. It was fine. No sign of any rodents nibbling on egg or ground. He sighed in relief, then yelped and nearly dropped the egg as it twitched in his hands.
"It's hatching. Old Gods. AGATE!!!!!"
He set it down carefully, and backed away. Were dragons hungry when they hatched? Or were they like chicks that imprinted at hatching on the first mother-sized thing they saw?
He backed further away. Took a slow deep breath. Absorbed the hot slow low frequency energy flowing from the ground, and reached both hands upward.
"Just a nice bright flash. Don't fry your hands, you stupid Goat," he muttered.
White light flowed upward in a nice slow flow, spreading out like a flower as it dimmed and reddened. It faded away, leaving him gawping.
"Damn. That was pretty."
He looked back at the egg. It was rocking back and forth, and a lump was coming and going like something poking at the shell from the inside.
Agate swooped down from the sky, teeth showing, claws out. "What's wrong!"
"Your children are hatching." Dydit pointed. "Or at least one of them appears to be trying to get out."
"Old Gods! What do I do!"
"What do you mean, what do you do? Don't you have instincts."
"Er, not that I've noticed. Do you think Nil knows what to do? This is all his fault."
"Umm, I'll go fetch him." Dydit backed away.
"No! I'm faster. Wait here," she leaped into the sky and flapped frantically aloft.
Dydit eyed the egg. "Please don't rush. Please." It rocked in response, and a crack propagated across the surface. "Please." Dydit gulped, then squared his shoulders and looked around. "If you're hungry, I want you to have something besides me to munch on. Doesn't that sound like a good idea?"
He edged over to the nearest geyser pool. Too hot. He trotted for the river, hopping from boulder to boulder. If Agate had cleaned out the lizards, perhaps there'd be fish. Or rodents. Or just lots of space between Dydit and twelve hungry dragonets.
He followed the hot geyser runoff to where it steamed into the cloudy sediment laden river. No sloped banks here for the lizards, the ice started where the hot water stopped. He edged out to the steep rock bank, and eyed the water where the hot and cold mixed. Still too full of sediments to see into. He poked his spear into the flow and nearly fell in. "Bloody deep. Figures." He poked again. "Damn it, where's a friggin' lizard when you want one?"
It shot out of the river like a lance from a ballista, ten feet of teeth and scale. He screamed down the open mouth of the beast, then the teeth snapped inches away from his nose, and it thrashed around, thumped its tail and died. His spear appeared to have burned a track across its neck and deep into its chest. "Did I do that?" He looked around. No sign of Nil or Agate. "I did that?"
He jerked the spear out of the lizard, and poked it cautiously. It real
ly was dead.
He grabbed it by the tail and dragged it up hill to the nest.
Agate circled over the nest, and then around him.
"In case the babies are hungry," he called.
"Oh, good idea!" she circled back to the nest then flapped off down the canyon. Probably to check on Nil.
The egg had a cross split now, and a nose sticking out. The nostrils flapped as the baby dragon breathed. A claw slid out and pushed at the shell, and a piece broke off.
Dydit climbed up on the highest nearby rock and looked for Agate. The clouds started a few feet over head, where the hot damp air of the Rip hit the frigid winter air.
The egg flopped over and liquid pour out, covering the dragon's nose. It choked and thrashed wildly, as Dydit slid hastily down and rolled the egg over to get the baby above the liquid so it could breath. It snorted and shoved, peeping indignantly, as another piece of shell broke off and it got its head all the way out.
"Er, hi dragon, nice dragon. Mommy will be here right away." He craned his neck but still couldn't spot her. "Real soon."
With a last wiggle and squeeze, the little dragon slithered out of the egg. Rusty red in color, it blended in not too badly with the mineral stained stone around the geyser.
Dydit blinked and relaxed. It was about the size of a small cat with stubby wings flapping weakly from its complex shoulder. How dangerous could it be? Dydit thought back to several cats he had known and hastily backed away and looked around for the lizard. He sawed through the tough scales and scooped out a chunk of meat. He considered chopping it into something that didn't need chewing, but the baby turned on its fellow eggs and tried to bite one.
Dydit grabbed his spear, slung the meat over it and stuck it between the dragon and the egg. It wolfed the chunk whole and pounced on the spear and chewed it.
Dydit hastily sliced more bloody meat and tossed it. It was snapped out of the air. Half choked, the baby slowed down and pulled the meat out of its mouth and started chewing properly.
Agate floated down onto the high boulder. "Oh my. He is a hungry little thing, isn't he."
"He tried to eat one of the other eggs." Dydit started butchering the lizard in earnest. "I think we need to keep them well fed for awhile. Do you remember if baby dragons had to be separated from each other?"
Agate settled down with a frown. "I didn't have any nest mates. I . . . I think that wine increased my clutch, but it may be that dragons didn't raise their entire clutches either."
"All right. Over how long a time period were the eggs laid?"
"Twelve days. So they should all hatch in the next twelve days?"
"More or less, I suppose." Dydit tossed another gobbet of meat to the little dragon. "So perhaps it would be a good idea to split them up into separate nests until we figure out if they will or won't actually eat each other."
The baby dragon belched, blinked twice and collapsed into a snoring heap.
"Whew! I was beginning to think that chick was a bottomless pit." Dydit abandoned his lizard carcass and helped Agate roll and lift stones. By the time Nil arrived, They had the baby and three twitching eggs in separate stone corrals, and were building more in an arc around the geyser pool.
Nil examined the baby dragon thoroughly. "I've never seen a baby dragon, let alone gotten a good look at one." He spread the stubby wings. "Beautiful! He's perfectly formed, but just a bit stubby all over. His eyes look to be better developed than a puppy's or kitten's. Much more like a human baby. Fascinating."
"You are supposed to be helping, not studying." Agate cast a worried eye on a cracking egg.
Dydit hastily returned to cutting chunks out of his lizard. "You know, if these babies grow very fast, we're going to be kept very busy and the lizard population is going to plummet. Further."
"I'm sure you can cope. I'm quite impressed with your planning. Surprising in a goat, not that you lot were ever ordinary goats."
"Thank You, Mayor."
"Your welc . . . Oh! Oh! I can see her nose. What should I do, what should I do?"
Dydit passed over several chunks of meat. "Wait till she's out, then feed her?"
"Yes, but what if something goes wrong?"
"We'll study the problem, and correct it." Dydit hopped down into the little nest and tipped the egg up as this one also rolled and drained all over the dragon as it tried to breathe. He stepped back as the irate dragonet cracked the shell and wriggled out.
She cheeped hungrily and flopped toward Dydit. "Quick, toss her some meat!"
"Here, Sweetie. Oh aren't you just the prettiest little Ow!" Agate hastily withdrew and tossed meat as she rubbed her nipped nostril. "My. I guess I'll do the mothering after they eat, not before."
Dydit grinned. "You'll have plenty of time for the softer side of parenting." He stepped down into the little corral with the third egg. This dragon baby already had his or her nose out of the shell, and Dydit carefully angled the shell so it drained without interfering with the baby's breathing. The fourth egg had gone quiet again. He went back to shifting rocks, checking on Dragonet Number Three frequently. This time Agate fed the baby immediately, talking and chirping all the time.
Dydit eyed the remaining eggs. All still. He excused himself and walked back home. Lefty and the boys were fascinated. Dydit talked as he cleaned up, ate and slept before returning to assist in the hatching of the tenth, eleventh, twelfth and thirteenth dragon in the world.
Coy was inclined to feed himself to the dragonets, Rotic tried to protect both parties and got nipped a few times. Weg followed on Nil's heels and absorbed all information available. He spent a chunk of every evening writing in his journal. And another chunk at math lessons with Dydit. Lefty had reluctantly joined them, learning the old Scoonian symbols and algebra.
Nil restarted their magic lessons during the brief sunlit hours, and during two periods of nice weather, put them to work on the twelve dragon corrals on the flat rocks near the currently empty prairie.
Dun and Bay produced a filly apiece, and Dydit and Lefty bragged as if they were personally responsible for their favorite mare's offspring.
The days lengthened, the dragonets appetites slowed a bit, and it was time to journey on.
Chapter Nineteen
Spring 1354
Village of Ash
"We're a growing community, it's time we had a school." Harry informed them. "For now, it's just all these toddlers, but there's twenty-seven of them, and then nine new babies. We all know how much work babies are, and we need a safe place for them to play while their mothers work. Otherwise we'll all starve next year."
Nobody could argue with that. They had broken ground for new fields, and planted almost double the acreage they'd worked just two years ago. Harvest was going to require every man and woman in the valley. And then there was haying. They had a ridiculous number of horses, and they'd bought, instead of sold, cattle. They planned to send all but the milk cows and two teams of horses with the sheep when Question moved them to the southern pastures after shearing. For now, they were turning the late thaw into a muddy quagmire.
Beck groused, "You witches ought to have been having babies right along, so you had some old enough to work."
Answer snorted. "I haven't noticed too many children between one and twelve around the farms."
Lady Gisele cackled. "You were all so busy planning the next generation's blood lines you nearly forgot to make them."
They all tried to glare and wound up shuffling their feet.
"So." Harry said. "A school."
They were clearing ground and moving rock when the wagon pulled up. The gaudily dressed Traveler driving the team climbed down stiffly and goosed a witch.
Justice whipped around ready to . . . throw her arms around him. "You, you . . . you've been gone forever! You . . . " she stopped to kiss him again. "Get over to the sheep pens and assist your daughter who is attempting to shear them."
The Sheep Man grinned, kissed her again and climbed back in the wagon.
Three young boys had appeared and already joined with Fiber and Piph in some sort of running and wrestling game, and two young men on horseback turned to follow the wagon, three foals bouncing along behind.
"Goodness, worse than Harry." she muttered.
"No one is worse than Harry," the Sheep Man called back.
***
Dydit felt like he'd come home.
Who'd have thought he'd miss sheep.
In human form, he'd taken the mixed herd down to the southern pastures. In goat form he'd persuaded some wolves that it still wasn't safe to even think about nibbling on the Ash herds.
Nil was searching for just the right spot to raise a Wizard's tower.
Nil's daughter Question—who was the scariest thing Dydit'd ever looked sideways at—as well as Lefty and Dydit, needed more training, he said. Lefty had waffled, and redrawn his maps and ridden off to Fort Stag as soon as the Engineering brigade moved back in. Dydit suspected he'd be back.
He shifted and watched Nil, Justice and Question. They were working with the young horses. Dydit had laughed himself breathless when Question told him about the Inquisitor General. He'd known when Maleth died, but not how it had happened. Killed by a woman! A Virgin of Ba'al! Oh, it was enough to make him swear off Ba'al's virgins forever. In thanks, not fear.
And he was not going to have anything to do with the young witches. Two new girls, outsiders with talent, had looked him over. They weren't virgins, so they weren't too dangerous, but he really didn't think it was a good idea, anyway. The two virgin witches were definitely off limits. He had managed, so far, to avoid Never altogether. If he could keep it up long enough . . .
The other wizards walked up the hill to where he reclined in the grass.
"I think we'll put the tower on the south end of the West Ridge." Nil told him. "That way we can keep an eye on the herds, move them south earlier."