Shoroko put his hand on Callyglip’s shoulder and pulled him aside, before taking his place in front of the dragon. “If you want to disable the machines, why not destroy them?”
Orokolga spun so quickly, her tail almost tripped Shoroko, but not quickly enough to hide the tear in the corner of her eye. Facing away, she said, “I need the gateway.” A shiver ran down her spine and out her tail. Then the dragon collapsed, hissing in pain. Her legs twitched and she gritted her teeth.
Shoroko ran around and knelt before her. “Are you injured? Can we help?”
Orokolga winced rhythmically. After a minute the spasms tapered off. “I am not injured. He is.”
Shoroko looked at Callyglip, who shrugged. “I’m fine.”
Orokolga whispered. “Kilgain, I will find you.” She pulled her legs in one by one and struggled to her feet.
Shoroko stared into her eyes once more. “This gateway will take you to Kilgain? Where is he? Is he dying?”
The golden dragon shook her head. “I’ve passed through the watery gate many times. It’s not the way. On a bright day, when the sun’s rays pass briefly into its night, I can see the city where he may be. For one who flies, the journey would be brief, but it is not a journey I can take. And so I look, again and again, see what I cannot have, and fall from the clouds with the rain upon the desert. My shattered bones heal, but not my shattered heart.”
“Is that how you ended up in the osh pits, falling from the sky?” asked Callyglip.
“No,” said Orokolga. “I was repairing leaks in the hydraulics. The osh pits are filled with effluent from this broken city.”
“If this gate won’t take you to that city, why stay?” said Shoroko.
“There is another, but it lies in ruins. If I can understand this gate, I can repair the other.”
“Where?” asked Callyglip.
Orokolga spat the words out. “In Menagerie.”
Shoroko recognized that expression from his time with the Reds. If Orokolga could’ve breathed flame, she would’ve. “Of course. Near the Census Stone, the home of the Browns. They’re gifted with language. You say you’ve never been able to talk to anyone before today. Did you try them?”
“It was not the constraints of my nature that prevented me from speaking with most creatures, but a curse. With the Browns, it was different.” The dragon shook off the last traces of her sympathetic pain, flared her nostrils, and extended her claws fully. “They refused.”
Shoroko paced, stroking the beard that was flourishing because of his neglect. “I am on a quest for answers. Some of those answers may be in Nehenoth.”
“I will accompany you,” said Orokolga, “for a price. I’ve gathered many books. Teach me to read.”
“Agreed.”
Orokolga’s eyes glazed over. Her focus was anywhere but on the two Hands. She shuffled slowly towards the gate.
“Do you need us to fetch supplies?” Callyglip waited for an answer, but the dragon neither spoke nor stopped.
“Help me with the gate,” said Shoroko.
They set the gate to lower and ran before it shut completely. Outside the cavern ran a tunnel. Two leather bags overstuffed with books lay beside the gate.
“One for you, one for me,” said Shoroko. He picked a loose book from the floor and shoved it into his bag. Its pages glistened like silver. “Jessnee makes books, but not like these.” He flipped one open. “The pages are woven from lissine scales.”
Callyglip ran his fingers over a page. “Durable, fireproof, unfading. Could be thousands of years old, or written yesterday.” The tunnel was empty. “Hurry, or we’ll lose our guide.”
Shoroko frowned. He held answers to his questions in his hands, but they’d have to wait. He slung the bag over his shoulder and jogged. Glowing crystal strands in the roof lit the way. They soon caught up with Orokolga.
“Where does this tunnel lead?” asked Callyglip.
The golden dragon marched forward, ignoring them.
He turned to Shoroko. “Did I say something wrong?”
“Something’s wrong, but it’s not you. We need her help, but while she’s in a trance, I don’t know.”
“Why?”
“The call’s gone out. She must follow. No wonder she’s upset. She knew she only had hours to dig around the city before she lost it to the waters until the next migration year. She is in thrall to the Census Stone. Every hlisskan will be drawn there to be reunited with its mate.”
Callyglip looked at Orokolga and wiped his cheek. “Except her.”
Chapter 18: The Refinery
April 11th. Four Rivers.
After two days of marching, or in the Claws’ case, flying, foraging, and napping while quaggas caught up, the company reached Four Rivers. Though Melissa needed guidance to prepare her defense, she kept silent. Shoroko and Callyglip had not reemerged from the tunnels, which made her lose interest in everything.
The scrub opened up into fields. Two dirt roads ran along opposite banks of the Floodway. They trod the northern road followed by the migration. Efforts were directed to keep animals on the northern side, where they could be herded around the city and north to the fords near Trample. From the sky, Melissa saw the city spread out into four quarters. The northwest quarter, Hammerside, was reserved for the poor, and for miners and stonemasons, on account of it being closest to the Aliosha Mountains. If the defenses failed, that quarter would be the first overrun.
One prominent hill dominated Hammerside: Embassy Knoll. Many caves were carved into its side as lodging for Claws visiting on business. As the day wore on, the knoll filled up as Greens, Browns, Reds and Whites arrived. They made seven wide circles about Melissa before landing, to show solidarity. Among them flew Lofty K'Fuur and wise Olsurrodot.
At the center crouched Market Isle, where rivers from the north, west and south joined to form the Silverthorn, starting its eastward course to the sea. A grove of trees rivaling redwoods in size stood south of its center. Floodwaters often submerged the flat, grassy island, so the city reserved it for festivals, harvest markets, and trials. Several dozen Hands were there, erecting bleachers and awnings. And I will provide the show.
K'Pinkelek flew by and in siglissik informed her of protocol. “Though we can fly where we choose, we must honor their rules. We enter on foot at the western gate.”
Melissa passed over the southeast quarter before landing. Steep cliffs faced the water. Cut into the side were open shafts with pulleys and lifts to bring supplies up from the docks below. The Black Heights were home to the First Hand, high officials and leading families. The cliffs were laced with tunnels and caverns, once home to the Black Lissai, but now used only to house refugees until danger passed. Here alone on Kibota, streets were paved with cobblestones. Most houses in this quarter were stone. When plague swept through the lower city and the lifts were raised and gates closed, it was clear the buildings were not all that was made of stone.
Melissa banked north, caught a thermal, and glided in after K'Pinkelek, shaking the ground with her landing before the stone archway.
“What are we waiting for?” Melissa coiled herself around a shade tree beside the road.
“Jessnee’s party,” said K'Pinkelek. “And the First Hand.”
A shiver rippled down the olissair’s back, jostling the tree. Seconds later, sticky sap dripped onto her tongue. “Mmmm.” A taunting buzz overhead made her look up. A swarm of bees dove at her. It’s mine now. With the mildest puff of flame, she scattered them, and enjoyed the accidental treat.
A solitary bee landed on the tip of her snout. “Bizazz.” Melissa’s newfound linguistic abilities clarified the sentiment. This means war. The golden warrior crawled a few inches forward. “Zazza neez anazza neez brazza.” Our honey, our tree. It flew another hop, landing right before the olissair’s eyes. “Zazzle gozzazza.” Go away.
In response, Melissa grinned, slapped the tree with her tail, and stuck out her tongue to receive the next drop of honey.
&nb
sp; The bee hopped onto her right ear and let her have it. “Lazza vozzif lizza, gozza zzidiz cavazza!” Lazy, oafish lizard, go back to your stinking cave!
Melissa squinted her eyes, which on account of her peculiar anatomy wasn’t easy, and readied her tail for another tree slap. She brought it in slowly and tapped the tree gently to taunt her miniature opponent, then wound up for a mighty, nest dislodging wallop.
The bee stared her down until its comrade landed.
“Ozza anazza zemizz, ezza hozza ahivizza.” Better a little honey than the whole hive. The two bees flew off.
By the time the work crew arrived, Melissa’s mood had sweetened. Jessnee, Skandik, Ecraveo and the others rode up amid a steady stream of people en route to market. Stares and whispers let Melissa understand what was on everyone’s mind. A powerful, flame-throwing, bee-defying, unchained murderer stood at the gate, and danger hung in the air.
Fear whined, trotted up and rubbed his nuzzle against her snout. “Where’s my master?”
She wanted to know, too. They’d found Shoroko’s quagga grazing by the Floodway, but no sign of the man. Melissa whinnied back. “I hoped you’d tell me, stripes.”
Fear shook his head and snorted. “Ignoring me all these days, I thought you dumb, like the rest. Guess you’re just rude.” He turned his back on her and flicked his tail like she was a double-nipper pest.
“I only just learned your speech. You’re the one without manners.”
Fear pricked his ears and pranced slowly, head high, tail up, like a Lippizaner on parade. “You like him.”
“Like who?” I can’t believe I’m being taunted by the cousin of a donkey.
“Now I know you’re dumb. As if a flying lizard going into heat for a human wasn’t already weird.” Fear reared up and laughed, then wheeled about and stared her in the eye. “Get me apples and I’ll tell you what Shoroko thinks.” He resumed his mocking mating dance.
Melissa refused the bait and quit the conversation. If all quaggas were as chatty as this one, word was bound to get to the Browns, assuming they were fool enough to waste time listening to equine imbeciles. Fear’s body language was as transparent as the toothy grin taking over her face. But where is he?
From within the city came loud greetings and people stomping aside. Melissa wondered what sort of man he was, this Metookonsen. Short, fat and obsequious? Tall, stern and short-tempered? Or Shakespeare’s lean and hungry type?
All missed the mark. Metookonsen strode past the gates with purpose and no strutting affectations. His white, button down shirt, encased in a black, knee-length, woolen jacket matched his black pants and boots. Graying temples and a short-cropped goatee framed a face neither frowning nor smiling, the look of a problem solver. She was today’s problem.
Metookonsen bowed and quickly stood erect. “White Talon, Great Hlissak of the Whites, our city welcomes you, and regrets the circumstances of your visit. Lodging has been prepared at Embassy Knoll. Given the present danger, we all want this matter addressed swiftly. I’ve convened a Hexajurata so you may answer the charges by sunset.”
Melissa, accustomed to hospitals with rounds, forms, and protocols, was about to consent to this expeditious process when Jessnee walked up and shook hands.
“Councilman Jessnee, good to see you safely returned from the Gap. Extraordinary happenings, I hear.” Metookonsen returned his gaze to Melissa.
“But for White Talon’s healing touch,” said Jessnee, “we would’ve had four times the fatalities. About your offer to proceed this evening. The olissair appreciates your desire for dispatch, but we’re exhausted from the ride.”
“Not a problem. Tomorrow then.” Metookonsen folded his arms behind him and nodded his head almost imperceptibly.
“Which should permit time to assemble a complete Octojurata,” said Jessnee. “Surely you agree a matter of such gravity involving a Claw…”
Metookonsen stroked his beard and turned to Melissa. “Whatever pleases the hlissak.”
Not understanding what was being decided, she looked to Jessnee’s eyes for her answer, then chose her words. “Whichever course produces a result acceptable to the greatest constituency.”
“Very well. I’ll canvas the Lissai elders on the hill and discover who shall sit for the Octojurata. This evening, after you are rested, you must fly to Market Isle to prepare your Embraniss before our chief judicartist, Zocrita. We’ll hold the trial tomorrow.” Metookonsen escorted them through the gate. He acted like he would accompany them to Embassy Knoll, but a messenger called him away.
After trekking winding dirt streets past wood framed houses caked in white plaster, they arrived at the knoll. Every Lissai in residence stood at attention outside their cave as White Talon climbed the path circling the hill and entered her own cave, eager to learn the difference between a Hexajurata and an Octojurata, how she could prepare an Embraniss in a few hours, and what it had to do with laws and courts.
As loftiest wing on the hill, White Talon was afforded a cave near the summit. Roof and walls were covered in a spiderweb pattern of deep grooves, inlaid with shiny alloy. Melissa admired its strength and beauty. She closed her eyes and imagined an olissair standing beside a vat of molten metal, cutting fanciful curves into the rock with her claws, dipping them in hot metal and painting the rock with passion, annealing her raw strength into the work with her fiery breath. She opened her eyes and gingerly traced the pattern with her right paw.
From outside came a familiar voice. “I treasure the days when we worked the annadurite together and made this plainest of cells a wonder.” Olsurrodot stepped onto the threshold. “You were my finest pupil. It grieves me that your artistry led you into this deadly affair.” He meant her collaboration with Shorassa.
“Since grief is my closest companion, we have a mutual friend. Please enter.” Space was cramped, so they conversed by the door, with K'Pinkelek and Soorararas outside, and Jessnee inside. Before she could ply them with questions, a racket announced another arrival.
“Daughter, you know my knees can’t handle climbing. Couldn’t we ride? What’s the hurry?” A middle-aged farmer with a walking stick limped around the curve of the hill.
“Trial’s tomorrow, darda. Who else do I know that understands the law?” Thedarra popped around the corner, lugging sacks of scrolls, parchments, clothes and provisions. “I’m the one bent over like an overused quagga, not you.” She straightened up, dropped her sack, adjusted her hair and flounced the wrinkles out of her skirt. “Noble Lissai. Councillor. We heard you’d arrived and the inns are full of spectators and darda here still isn’t talking to his sister in town…”
“She’s the one who should apologize,” said Vedarran. “The fruit was good when I delivered it. Her fault if it spoilt. I’m not giving back the money!”
“So we don’t have anywhere to stay,” said Thedarra. “My darda was a lawyer once. You’ll be needing his help. Can we camp with you?” Reflexively, she almost covered her nose against the odor, but yanked her arm back to her side.
The Rainbow Bride was to have enhanced wisdom. Melissa didn’t need it. Thedarra wanted to impress Shoroko with her initiative. Help from this man stealer? Melissa could’ve thanked the woman for troubling to leave her farm during planting season to help. Sympathized that their mutual friend was missing. Complimented her on her new outfit. Instead she said, “Shoroko hasn’t returned.” Thinking a redirect would give her the hint, she softened her voice. “Callyglip is missing, too. I know you two worked together.”
“Figures he’s involved. Shoroko rushed in to save him, like always. That boy causes more trouble.” She clapped her hands. “You need a legal team. Lord Olsurrodot, will you be advising on treaty law?”
The senior lissair eyed Melissa, who nodded. “Assuredly.”
Pushing her way into the cave, Thedarra put her hand on Jessnee’s shoulder. “Your daughter’s strength’s back. Chasing furry pests again.”
Jessnee’s eyes widened. “She spotted another moskat?�
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Thedarra withdrew her hand. “What’ll you do for White Talon? You’re clever. Can you prove this stuff about her being poisoned?”
Melissa cleared her throat, which nearly set the scrolls on fire. “I was thinking paper chromatography. I can chew up wood, spit out pulp, and flame dry it into paper.”
“Assuming you get the temperature under control,” said Thedarra. “What’s karma toga fee?”
Melissa puffed her chest and held forth. “Soak up liosh into a sheet of paper and its constituents will be absorbed at different speeds. They will soon be separated by the paper into distinct chemicals. We use it to show how bad liosh has something extra that’s missing from the good.”
“Too slow and not accurate enough,” said Jessnee.
Melissa snickered. “I suppose you’ve a stash of thin-film chromo plates lying around?”
“No. That’ll be my first order of business.”
“The houses are plastered,” said Melissa. “So there’s gypsum around. I can make wood pulp for binding. I know how to make glass. But what do you plan to use for the stationary phase?”
“Silica gel.”
“You have silica gel? Here? How? Why?”
“It’s a first class desiccant. I needed something to keep my herbs and medicines dry. Expensive to prepare, so I needed someone to fund me. Then I remembered silica gel is the active ingredient in…”
“Kitty litter,” said Melissa. “You sell Lissai litter on the side. Enterprising. I can’t wait to tell your dad what you…” She remembered not everyone knew who she was and clammed up.
A Most Refined Dragon Page 17