by Viola Grace
“If it works, let me know.”
“I will. Now, I need to show you something I have been planning.” Zzara was overtaken by eagerness.
Aeli chuckled and said, “Lead the way.”
They walked through the ruins, and Zzara led her to her home.
“This is your home?”
“It is now. Come in and have a seat. I will get my notebook.”
She left Aeli in the living quarters and went to get her notebook. When she got back, she held up her book and smiled. “Let me know if you think this is possible.”
Aeli took the book, and she flipped through it, noting the ingredient scribbles in the margins. “You... this is amazing, but you will need a ton of power for it.”
Zzara cackled. “That is just it. This place used to be a battleground. A dueling ground for all comers.”
“All?”
“Mages, dragons, fey, creatures, shifters of all kinds. They all came here to beat the hell out of each other.”
Aeli gave her a slow smile. “You are going to use that residual magic to build a city?”
“I am. I will jump-start it with blood, but it should go fairly smoothly. It is going to be big, and I am going to be tired. That much I can already guess.” She chuckled.
Aeli nodded and looked at the overview drawing. “A spiral?”
“Yes. It will slow the progression of vehicles, but the pathways allow for plenty of walking. Anyone who wants to get to the center of town will only be ten minutes away at the furthest.”
“I like it. What is this part in the middle?”
Zzara looked down. “Ah, the graveyard. My mom is already buried there, so I thought it would be a good place to start.”
“Your mother?”
“Emory went and got her. That is how my father found me. He put a tracker in the wrappings they had her in.”
Aeli sighed. “I am so sorry that I wasn’t here.”
“It is fine. I could have opened the door if I wanted you here. Some things have to be done on your own. Fighting my father was one of them.”
“Did he come alone?”
“No.”
“How did you fend them all off?”
She sighed. “I didn’t. Emory lived up to his job title.”
“Oh. So, you have seen his shifted form?”
“I have.”
Aeli leaned forward. “What is he?”
Zzara laughed. “He is very big. I don’t think a description could do him justice. You have to see him for yourself.”
Aeli sighed. “Fine. Oh, Eltrinia has been by. She would like to take you to see the curator.”
“Why?”
“Don’t even ask. The curator knows things past and present. She is a very scary dragon.”
“Oh. Well, I am waiting for my mother’s people to arrive.”
“You have been very busy.”
Zzara snorted and filled in the parts that Aeli had missed. The burial of her mother, the understanding of the hedge fey, and that her mother’s people had been summoned. When they would show up was the only question.
Aeli nodded. “You should meet with the curator first. Eltrinia can have you there and back in an hour. It could all be done today.”
“You seem eager to have me go.”
“The curator doesn’t request people lightly. If she wants to see you, it is rather important.”
Zzara nodded. “Right. I will just give her a call.”
She went to her room and checked her com unit. There was enough power to call Eltrinia, and the bright, cheerful anticipation of the other woman sounded forced until Zzara turned around and saw her standing in her room.
“Oh. Hi!” Zzara was caught off guard and still speaking into the com.
Eltrinia put her own handset in her pocket. “Are you willing to go right now?”
“Let me just tell Aeli.”
“Of course. This is a nice place. I love the ceiling. They did a wonderful job. The Deep really know how to support a ceiling.”
Zzara didn’t know what to say to that.
Aeli agreed to remain, and she wanted to flip through the book and make some of her own notes on city building.
Eltrinia grinned. “She is waiting for us in the tearoom. Take my hand.”
The moment that Zzara made contact, they were gone.
Chapter Eleven
The curator was a woman who was both young and old, tall and small, and had a face that defied description.
“Zzara Orlem. How lovely to see you. Please, be seated.”
Eltrinia walked around and sat next to the curator on her right, leaving Zzara walking to the left.
“Curator, thank you for the chatelaine. It has been most helpful.”
The curator smiled. “It goes from free female blood dragon to free female blood dragon. It was only right that you finally got possession of it.”
“Wait. Free? There has never been a mention of free blood dragons. I have read everything that the mages have.”
“Perhaps there is something in my collection that the mages do not have access to. I cannot lend them to you, but I am guessing that you now have means to obtain your own copy.” The curator poured tea for all three of them.
“How did you know about that?”
The curator snorted. “The problem with being temporally minded is that your mind can see going backward and forward, but the world is a very large place. So, I can only see what directly affects me and mine. That means Eltrinia. She has taken a shine to you, and as she is getting close to her first birthday, it was important that you still be alive when her party arrives. Therefore, after we have tea, we will walk to my private collection, and I will show you what your people have not been able to. I will show you that your kind are quite capable of living on their own and having normal lives as the rulers of small kingdoms.”
Zzara’s mouth fell open. “How is this…so you can see the future?”
“I see the future; I see the past. I was in some of the past. You are at a turning point. You can either blend in or stand out. You have to pick and choose which path you will walk.”
Zzara swallowed. “I wish I had time to make the choice.”
“I know. You are young, but your mother prepared you for this. You are made to take care of others. You took care of her. You nurtured her, she protected you and kept your nature from others. Your father would have been excited if he had known what you were, but he and his cohorts would have drained you by now. Your mother would still have passed because she would never have stood by and let your father drain you to death.”
The truth of that fact sent a rush of relief through Zzara. She had been bearing a lot of the guilt over her mother’s choice. It was the relief of the truth. Her mother would not have let her father kill her by inches for profit.
The small cakes were passed and they made polite and unrelated conversation about the Deep and dealing with the fey.
“Curator, have you ever dealt with hedge fey?”
The curator paused. “Once. I had to give one of them bad news. Devastating news. But her lifeline had crossed mine and brought certain things to light.”
“Like what?” Zzara was genuinely curious.
“She had to defy tradition, leave those she loved, and go off with a stranger who would give her a daughter that could heal hundreds and teach thousands. When I finished my explanation, she agreed to wait and see if the stranger did cross her path.”
Zzara’s skin was cold. “You told her to do it?”
“I told her I had seen it. She had free will to choose every step of the way. I merely laid out one possibility. I also told her what would happen if that child wasn’t born. She took action when she knew that the time was right.”
Eltrinia looked between them, her white eyes confused. “What are you talking about?”
“My mother. She is talking about my mother.” Zzara sat back.
“Oh. Well, the curator never insists. She just gives you the information yo
u need to see the future in more than one way.”
Zzara looked at her hands, the red hair that flowed over her shoulder, the chatelaine in her lap. This was her mother’s legacy. She looked like her, with the exception of her eyes. The hair, the height, even her hands were just like her mother’s. Her mother had been needed to pull a blood dragon into the world. Zzara had better make that first sacrifice worth it.
She finished her tea and set her cup down. “I think I am calm now.”
The curator nodded. “It is difficult. I have been doing this for a very long time, and it never gets easier. There are always loved ones who get damaged in the process. It hurts, but it moves things forward.”
Eltrinia sighed.
The curator stood and smiled. “Would you like to see the books of those free men and women who have come before?”
“Please. Also, have you ever heard of Zzaroa’s Herbal?”
The curator was surprised. “I have heard of it, but no one has seen a copy in the last two hundred years.”
“Right. Of course.”
They made their way through a few public areas of the Breaker City Museum, and then, the private collection was accessed via a series of security doors.
The curator led her to a room that was lined with books. Thin, fat, handbound, and elegant tomes.
“These are the blood dragon diaries. The wonderful thing about blood dragons is that they can masquerade as a number of other dragons if they try. Ruby, carnelian, even lowly brick if they like. It simply takes effort on your part.”
Eltrinia walked to a desk in the center of the space, and she picked up two sheets of paper. “Here. This is a list of all the books, page count, and bindings.”
The curator smiled. “If you do manage to copy and read them, can you let us know what they said?”
Zzara was confused. “Why? Are they in another language?”
“The books are blood-locked. They can only be read by another one of their kind.”
Shocked, she asked, “If you can’t read them, why do you have them?”
“I am keeping them from being destroyed. Not all believe that blood dragons should be allowed independent living.”
“But you do.”
“I definitely do.”
Zzara cocked her head. “Have you foreseen me and Emory?”
“The Quetzalcoatl?”
“Yes.”
The curator smiled. “There are choices you must make. A small and strange family or choose a dragon and have a large but predictable family.”
Zzara smiled and nodded. “I believe that I understand.”
The curator chuckled. “That is what they all say. Eltrinia, please take our guest back to her city. Guests are expected.”
Eltrinia smiled and said, “Take my hand.”
Zzara paused, bowed to the curator, and straightened. “I think she made the right choice.”
The curator smiled. “So do I.”
She took her friend’s hand, and they were back in her quarters with the list.
Eltrinia hugged her and smiled. “I will come back for a tour.”
“I will have to call from Rekker. My com is just about dead.”
Eltrinia chuckled and there was a soft crackle. “There you go. Full charge.”
A moment later, Zzara was alone in her room.
She looked up and blinked. She had been gone three hours. The sun had made its way across the sky. It was midafternoon.
She folded the list of titles and tucked it into the notebook that was still sitting on the table. With a spring in her step, she headed for the workshop to check on the spell.
Thobin was gone, and Althu was in his place.
Zzara smiled. “Excuse me. I am going to do something ridiculous.”
She set her book down, went out to get a brick, and she set that on top of her book. With a bit of grunting, she got the frame upright and she set it nearly flat against the wall. The other mirror was hooked into small loops on the side of the frame, and when she angled them just right, she could see the other side in both mirrors. This was the tricky part. She picked up the brick and eased it into the space in front of the magic mirror.
She quickly brought out the list, and she said, “Drewhar’s Saga.”
The brick began to dissolve, layer by layer. The dust and grit spun into the magic mirror and began to take the form of a book. A large book.
When the book was complete, there was a shimmer from the mirror, and it was no longer a reflection but a doorway. She reached in and pulled out the book.
She still had half the brick left, so she whispered, “Zzaroa’s Herbal.”
Althu inhaled sharply. “How do you know about that book?”
The mirror created a cover, and then, one page at a time, it built the book.
Zzara looked at the dark fey. “My mother spoke about it. She said it was her family’s greatest treasure, but she said they had lost it.”
The pages were still building, but it looked like she was going to need more bricks. The herbal was larger than she had anticipated.
She left the room and returned to see Althu reaching out for the mirrors. “What are you doing, Althu?”
“The book is evil. It carries plagues and devastation.”
“That is not how my mother described it. She said it was healing for the ages, it helped those beyond help, and eased the last days of those who had lived their lives and wished to depart. Where did you get your information?”
“There is a mention of it in our lists of dangerous books.”
“Ah. Well, if it is dangerous, I will divide it up or feed it back to the mirror.”
The book completed its generation in a book four inches thick. She picked it up and took it and the blood dragon saga back to her quarters. She flipped through the book and began to understand the dangers of the herbal. It wasn’t dangerous in and of itself, but if you did anything wrong, the mixtures could be catastrophic. The operational key was the measurement description page. If you did not have that, everything you made would only have a ten percent chance of being successful. That could be deadly.
To make sure it remained under her control, she pricked her thumb and ran it across the closed page ends. No one but Zzara would be able to open the book.
She looked down and then looked over to the wardrobe. If she was getting guests, it would be nicer if she was formal or as formal as she could get.
She pinned up her hair, put on the feathered vest, and grabbed her scepter. She needed to go looking for Aeli.
“Can you find her for me?” She spoke to the scepter.
A beam of bright light shot out and aimed at the gravesite.
“Thank you, dearest.” She smiled as the light turned pink. The light ceased, and Zzara went in search of her friend.
Aeli was kneeling next to the grave, and her eyes were the pink of someone who had just been crying. Instead of the black soil, there was now a riot of blooming flowers and plants.
“Are you all right, Aeli?”
Her friend smiled and nodded. “She was so proud of you.”
“What?”
“Amaryllis, buttercup, pink roses. She had pride in her female child.” Aeli smiled.
Zzara went to the flowers and caressed them, her own tears tracked down her cheeks and into the soil. “I thought I was done weeping.”
“True loss doesn’t leave. You just get used to the pain where the person used to be.”
Zzara looked at the flowers and frowned. “Pink roses mean female child?”
“Yes, and white would be a son, I think. It has been a while since I put together bouquets.”
“Purple hyacinth. Regret for a son.” Zzara looked at Aeli. “My mother never had a son. She couldn’t. She never got pregnant after me.”
The ripple against her early-warning signal told her that there was someone approaching, but she had to walk around some rubble to see the party in the distance, a dozen karros of varying makes and models and all moving at a c
autious pace.
“Of course. As soon as there is something I want to look into, I get visitors.” She looked around. “Where is Emory?”
Aeli sighed. “He went to get supplies.”
“Damn. Right. I can do this.”
“Do you want help?”
She smiled. “I can do with some backup.”
They stood side by side as the small assemblage grew close.
“Your blood is excellent fertilizer.” Aeli mentioned it casually.
Zzara was laughing when the people left their vehicles and carefully walked toward her. She paused in her laughter. Each one had hair the colour of the falling leaves.
“Holy hells. This is my mom’s family.”
A woman holding a twisted stick walked toward her and right past her. She turned and watched as the woman knelt at the side of the grave and pressed her hand to the soil.
One by one, men, women, and children passed her as if she wasn’t there, and they paid court to the grave of Aylona Acular.
The oldest woman shouted, “Who has planted on her grave?”
Zzara stepped toward them, and she tightened her jaw and glared at the men who tried to bar her path.
After a lot of glaring and some muttered threats, she stood in front of the old woman. “No one has planted on her grave. I watered the soil with my blood, and this is what rose from it.”
The old woman looked at her with narrowed eyes, and an awareness came to them. “Who are you, child?”
“No longer a child. This ruin is my kingdom.”
The woman smiled. “Then, madam, who are you?”
“Zzara Orlem. Daughter of Aylona Acular. Blood dragon. Mage. Lover of books and healing. Who are you, elder?”
“Zazwing Acular. I believe I am your grandmother.”
A gasp from behind her made Zzara grip her scepter tight. A man only slightly older than Zzara looked at the old woman. “You denied my mother, and now, you take on her daughter?”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “My mother left a son?”
A deeper voice said, “Two sons and a husband.”
Zzara angled her head slightly and saw the older man with dark green hair next to a man who appeared to be twenty-six at the most. That son took after his father. The one next to her had the same crimson hair that she sported.