The Summer Dragon

  “Father told me.” Mabir returned to his needles, and the stinging resumed. He took up the melody once more. Aru whimpered, pushing his head into my hand. “But what about Darian? Won’t his half-finished mark leave him with a wanting too?”

  Mabir pressed something cold and pungent to my neck. I winced and turned. His face was somber, but when his eyes met mine, he smiled. “We’re done. Your mark is finished.” I touched cool dampness at the back of my neck, where Mabir had applied a thin poultice.

  He took my hand in his and met my eyes, looking back and forth between them. But he didn’t answer. What aren’t you telling me? Finally he squeezed my hand, then let it go. “Let me worry about Darian. You have an important task to perform now. I know it will be very hard for you, but you must love this baby with all your heart, and show her that she is the light of your life.” He smiled at his little joke, and I couldn’t help but smile back. I felt a moment of joy. It was done. Keirr and I were bonded.

  “If you still have any doubt that the Summer Dragon’s appearance marked a turning point in your life, banish it now. With this mark, your life has changed. I know that you feel the weight of rules and expectations—all young adults do. But this bond will define you for years and years to come. It will shape your understanding of freedom, and commitment, and friendship. It may take you to places you never imagined you would go and reveal your inner self to you in unexpected ways.”

  He smiled again. “This strikes you as a lot of ceremonial gibberish, I can see. But in ordinary times we would make much of this occasion—Tauman received his final marks in the Temple, and we celebrated for two days afterward. When your brother is well, we’ll have a proper celebration, I promise. The important thing is that you understand the solemnity of the bond, and raise your baby with love and trust.”

  He squeezed my shoulder gently. “But of course you will do that.” His eyes twinkled out of the creases made by his smile. Mabir seemed younger in that moment, as if the weight of his long years had been lifted.

  He stood and rubbed his hands briskly together. “I need to get back to the Temple to see how your brother is doing. Fren’s bandages need changing, as well. He’s still delirious with pain, but his fever has begun to drop.”

  That was good news. But to be completely free of the weight of Bellua’s bad omens, I needed for everyone to emerge whole, Fren included. And most importantly Darian.

  “Dhalla, what happens if Darian’s bond mark isn’t finished in time? Can it fail?”

  He turned and began to wipe his needles down with alcohol one at a time, ordering them in a folding leather case on the table beside him.

  “Dhalla, will Darian’s bond mark fail if we wait too long to finish?” I pressed.

  He practically stabbed the last needle into the case. “It might. Yes.”

  “And what will happen to Aru if it does?”

  We both knew the answer to that question. “We will lose him. He will have to be destroyed.”

  My blood pounded in my ears, and for a moment I felt faint. My hand involuntarily clenched on Aru’s back and he squirmed under my fingers. I looked down at him, throat tight, and caressed his head in apology. His eyes were open, but he stared vacantly at nothing, ear frills drooping. Darian’s injury and Aru’s plight twisted in my gut. “You have to finish Darian’s mark.” My voice cracked on the words.

  “No point in getting angry, Maia. They have to be together for the bond to knit, but Bellua has forbid moving or graving on Darian while his own marks are doing their work in the boy’s leg.”

  I knew it. I knew that Bellua would be in the middle of this crisis, keeping Darian and Aru apart. Without Aru, my little Keirr would have no future mate, and Bellua might still get his way. What kind of holy man was that? “I blame Bellua. This is his fault.”

  “Shhh. He brought me here, don’t forget. He’s waiting for—”

  I lowered my voice, but spit the words out defiantly. “I blame Bellua.”

  “Maia, you can’t judge—”

  “I blame him! None of this would have happened if he hadn’t tried so hard to turn the sighting of the Summer Dragon into something—”

  “He comes from a rigid school of thought. He only acted on his beliefs.”

  “From the moment he knew we saw the Summer Dragon he worked to bury the story and—”

  “Maia—”

  “And silence me! Why do you defend him?”

  “He is a holy man. He is bound by his oaths.”

  “His oaths? What kind of holy man would—”

  “Maia, please. You don’t understand. He made a choice to be what he is—he gave up a personal life. Loyalty to Temple and nothing else. His teachings and his vows are everything he has. When confronted with events he couldn’t explain, he retreated into his doctrine. It’s not that he’s opposed to you, but that he knows no other way.”

  “You disagreed with him at first, but then you . . .” I silenced myself, unwilling to accuse Mabir openly.

  His sagging face told me he understood. He had sacrificed me, deferring to the religious authority of the Rasaal and swallowing his own misgivings in order to appease his conscience and his own vows. He ended up satisfying neither. It wasn’t Bellua’s oaths that troubled him, but his own—sworn to a system he had come to doubt.

  Mabir shook his head slowly, his shrewd old eyes bright with unshed tears. “But you proved him wrong, didn’t you.” He sighed and dabbed at his eyes with the end of his beard. “And in doing so, you shamed this old man. My faith was tested, and I failed.”

  His simple admission surprised me. I didn’t know what to say.

  His beard trembled. “Faith . . . I have long struggled with the question: Is it something we aspire to discover and nurture within us, or something we lose as we grow old? It comes so easily to the young. But you showed me what I’d lost, and rekindled it in this old heart. I am grateful, and humbled. I hope you can forgive my weakness.”

  I put a hand on his arm. “Of course, Dhalla! If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have a qit of my own!” I tried to smile reassuringly for him. He smiled back and grasped my hand readily. I squeezed his in return.

  I had another question to ask. I wasn’t a dhalla and had no experience with the Temple Science, but I’d been thinking about it for days. I took a deep breath and leaned toward him. “What would happen if you finished Aru’s bond mark partway with my blood in the ink? Would it save Aru if Darian’s healing takes too long or if he dies?”

  His head snapped up, and his dark eyes grew wide. “A shared bond mark?”

  My new graving throbbed. “Would it be bad?”

  His beard shook with the quivering of his open mouth. “I could never, would never think . . . No, it’s not possible,” he finally sputtered. He took a deep breath then let it out. His eyes were focused far away. “It’s never been done, to my knowledge. We would have to augment your mark as well. It would violate the rituals of the Science. I’m not even sure I would know how to integrate it.”

  His eyes focused on me now and the look he gave me was troubled. “Bellua could have me defrocked or worse if he found out.”

  “Could he find out?”

  “Sweet Avar, girl! The very thought.”

  I shrank back, but he reached out a shaking hand to touch my shoulder, and studied me with an odd mixture of fear and fascination. “No, no! It’s that this is very dangerous ground we tread. But I understand your fear—I don’t trust Bellua either. I fear for Riat if he is allowed to manipulate events to fit his chosen narrative.”

  “Would it save Aru?”

  Mabir couldn’t speak. Keirr squirmed awake and reached out a paw to bat playfully at Aru’s nose. He didn’t respond except to blink.

  Mabir looked from Aru, to me, to Keirr, then shook his head as if to dislodge an irritating thought. “No, no. I can’t. It’s too risky.”


  “Dhalla—”

  “No! I cannot!” He clutched the leather case of instruments close to his chest. “You don’t understand. I couldn’t possibly explain without teaching you so much . . .” His words trailed away to leave an unhappy twist on his lips.

  I kneeled down to hug Keirr and Aru both closer to me. “Would it save his life?”

  “It might, but if Darian should die yet Aru survive, or if he even saw the bondmarks, Bellua would know we had done something—that we . . . that I had violated ritual. Broken with the Temple.”

  “Interrupted his foul magic, you mean.”

  He stared at me for a long moment, brow furrowed. “Those are harsh words, girl.”

  “His manipulations are foul.”

  “We cannot discuss this any longer,” he said, then collected the rest of his things and fled the stables. I jumped up to follow him, thinking I would press my case before he got away. But as I passed through the stable door I saw Bellua, pacing slowly away toward the bridge to the paddock, black coat wafting on a breeze, his hands clasped behind his back. Mabir paused beside him. “I’m ready to go,” the old dhalla said, then hurried across the bridge.

  Bellua looked over his shoulder at me, his face expressionless, eyes shadowed. He’d been shuttling Mabir here on his dragon, Zell, so the elder dhalla could render our bond marks. He should have waited in the paddock with his mount. My whole body went cold. Had he been listening?

  “I’ll be with you in a moment, dhalla!” he called. Mabir stopped on the bridge with slumped shoulders, though Bellua didn’t see it. He’d already turned to saunter my way. I ducked back into the stable, my chest pounding, and gathered my little dragons close.

  TWENTY-SIX

  “MAIA. CONGRATULATIONS on your bond mark. I know this is a momentous occasion for you.” Bellua stood in the stable doorway, a silhouette dark as the mouth of a cave.

  I hugged Keirr and Aru close to me. “Thank you.”

  “May I come in?”

  I shrugged, and he entered slowly, his hands behind his back. His face drew long, brows knit, the corners of his mouth tightly bent.

  He spoke to the floor. “Originally I intended to stay behind only to write my report, but now I remain until Darian is well again.”

  Waiting for Darian or Aru to die, you mean.

  “More than that, I need to study this new situation. I promise to be patient, to see what comes of the portent and your place in it. I fear that I may have been hasty. I have chided myself for it—I know you deserve greater recognition than I gave. I must wait until your brother comes out of his fever before I judge, though I’ve watched you with your new baby, and I think you have a natural gift. I have nothing but admiration for your resolve, and for the way you tamed that wilding sire. Surely Korruzon was present in that hour.”

  He paused, as if waiting for me to acknowledge his words. He sat on a bench, brushed a fleck off of his coat. I waited for him to continue, certain that anything he said would be a lie. He’d spent an entire day seeking leverage he could use to bury my story before it rose to challenge the teachings of the Rasaal. But since I came home with Keirr he’d been silent, only shuttling Mabir from the Temple to the aerie and back. I feared at one point that he would insist on applying my bond mark himself, but he didn’t interfere. I’d barely seen him at all.

  He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for actions and words that seemed to dismiss your value. I hope you will forgive me for my harshness. I concede that my judgment may have been premature.”

  Again he paused, staring at me expectantly. I had nothing to say. I certainly wasn’t going to thank him after all he’d put me through.

  He shook his head. The corners of his mouth drew down even further, and he fidgeted uncharacteristically. “Words are not serving me now. I should learn to trust my first impressions. The first time I saw you, I saw something special. Remember? I called you a wildflower. More appropriate than I knew at the time.” A near smile revealed a dimple in one cheek, and his expression lightened, but it quickly vanished as his face resumed its somber lines. He looked down at his hands. “I let my teachings cloud my instincts, and I am sorry. You have schooled me, Maia.”

  I couldn’t read his eyes, though I swear he meant to look sad. His words eerily echoed what Mabir said just minutes ago—the second apology in less than half an hour. Was it genuine? Or another manipulation? I didn’t know him well enough to tell. But I’d seen him at his most emotional, on the hillside where Malik died, when everyone stood against him at last. I didn’t trust him.

  He held out a hand, palm up, like a peace offering.

  I took only his fingers for the briefest possible handshake. He continued to search my face, but I couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t be a lie or half-truth. Something shadowed his expression, some intense emotion that stirred beneath the surface. Keirr squirmed against me, groaning with an echo of my discomfort. I looked down at her, relieved at the interruption. Finally Bellua stood, bowed crisply, then turned and left.

  I waited until Zell’s wingbeats receded into the distance before I exhaled. At last I stood up, pushed the rolling stable doors open wider, and peered out with a shiver.

  The compound was quiet. Tauman and Jhem hunted with their broodfathers again—the sires’ reward for good behavior following the theft of their broods. After hunting all week, the ice vaults were filling up with meat. Meanwhile, Father and Rov shuttled back and forth between the village and the cavern, mustering up a small militia of locals to keep watch until Rov could return with real Dragonry regulars.

  Lazy cloudlings dotted the sky, but I saw no dragons. I sighed in relief and stepped out.

  Keirr trotted after me, head held high, her nostrils quivering as she studied scents my nose would never know. She’d been subdued when we first brought her home, clearly missing her poppa, looking lost amongst the press of unfamiliar adult dragons and strange human beings. She stayed close to me at all times, but over the last few days her confidence had grown. Already she caroused like a normal, playful qit—splashed in the watering trough, growled and pounced on her food, attacked and defeated piles of straw bedding.

  My only job was to teach her proper dragon manners, but her boundless energy was exhausting. Fortunately Athys and Coluver adopted her readily, and I was grateful for their help in keeping her corralled.

  Aru plodded out after us, head low and tail dragging. I stopped to wait for him, and Keirr took my cue as an excuse to attack. He reared up to fend her off with his paws, but she snagged his tail in her teeth and soon they spun around each other in a tumble. Finally he flipped her on her back with an oversized paw and sat on her. She growled with mock anger, wriggling joyfully. I laughed despite myself. She never took “go away” for an answer. It was good to see them bond since they would be mates one day. Soon each would get a final circle of runes added to their bond marks to tighten the emotional cords they created with their play.

  Aru pinned Keirr with almost no effort—he outweighed her by half—and sat with limp wings, ignoring her struggles. When her happy barks turned to pained yelps, he growled at her.

  The big shadow of his mother, Grus, fell across them. “Qit. Aph, qit,” followed by a scolding click of her tongue. Aru rolled aside, and Keirr scampered to my side for sympathy. I rubbed her ear frills. “You asked for that you know, scoundrel.” She cocked her head at me, silvery eyes blinking.

  Aru began to walk drag-tail toward his mother, but stopped, looked at me, started my way, paused again, then hung his head and sat. Poor little Aru, lost and confused. Grus and I touched eyes for a moment, and then she bent down to lick at his ears. I knelt beside him too and scratched under his chin. He didn’t move, even when Keirr licked his nose.

  “Qit, boi,” said Grus, and keened sadly, then tilted her head from side to side, indicating a word she didn’t have or couldn’t pronounce. After watching K
eirr and her sire recently in the caverns, I knew Grus probably had a dragon’s word for what she meant, that we ignorant humans didn’t know and couldn’t say.

  But her understanding impressed me. The qit and the boy. It was the same thing I’d worried about all day. “Aru needs Darian, and I bet Darian needs Aru.”

  “Qit nneedsss boi,” she said, and nodded. Wise momma dragon.

  Their bond marks needed finishing. Something had to be done, but once again the adult humans played their appointed roles, did what was expected of them. Even Mabir, despite admitting that he distrusted Bellua’s motives, still cowered from the merihem’s shadow. “The Wisdom of Haom said, There is no future in the past.” That’s what he told me. So then why are we listening to Ancient Haom? Isn’t he from the past? Isn’t your inability to confront Bellua mired in the past? The contradiction was absurd.

  The more I thought about Bellua’s short congratulatory speech the less I liked it. I must wait until your brother comes out of his fever before I judge.

  If Darian dies, you mean, you will blame me again. He couldn’t even position himself in a lie without leaving a back door open.

  I shook my head in anger, then stood and patted Grus on the nose. She looked up. Athys and Coluver joined us, surrounding little Aru in a protective wall of dragon dams.

  “We’re going to fix this, momma dragon. I don’t know how yet, but I’ll figure it out.”

  She did not blink, but tilted her head to one side briefly. “Fik-ssss,” she said, then rumbled and clicked another phrase deep in her throat, tilting her head again, to the other side. Were those dragon noises a word, like those that Keirr’s poppa spoke to her in the caves? I tried to imitate the phrase, though my rumbling would never rattle anyone’s bones, and I had to click with my tongue, but Grus nodded and repeated the phrase.