MURALS COVERED THE high ceilings of the grand dining hall. The scene displayed the true history of the world, according to dragons, as huge reptiles from a vanished age crawled from the swamps, took flight, and carved the world from untamed forests. In the shadows of the trees tiny humans looked on in awe of the ancestral dragons. There were other creation myths, of course, including legends of the world being born in the aftermath of a war between angels and dragons, but the biologians had persuaded most dragons to accept the non-mystical version of their origins.
No one had ever seen an ancestral dragon, of course. They’d lived long ago. But their bones were abundant in the rocks of the earth. Their black, polished skeletons decorated the halls of biologians, with the choicest relics finding their homes in the castles of sun-dragons. A stone skull as long as Jandra was tall hung on the wall at the head of the dining hall, its empty eyes glaring out over the room.
Beneath this stone skull, at the head of the dinner table heaped high with roasts and breads and fruits, sat the sun-dragon Chakthalla. Jandra thought that Chakthalla could pass as Tanthia’s double; the same poise and dignity possessed by the queen was reflected in Chakthalla’s noble features. Each scale of her face seemed crafted from rubies, carved in precise symmetry by a master jeweler. Her scales glimmered as they reflected the candlelight of the chandeliers. Chakthalla was the product of fine breeding, a dragon whom, long before her birth, had been sculpted by her bloodlines to possess a regal bearing.
Jandra wondered whether, perhaps, one reason why Chakthalla and Tanthia looked so similar to each other in her mind was because of the simple fact that she rarely was in the presence of female dragons. Dragon society was heavily patriarchal. Unlike most birds or reptiles, the winged dragons gave birth to live infants, and mortality during birth was high. It wasn’t unusual to encounter male dragons over a century old. Encountering a female over thirty was a rarity. This imbalance in the longevity of sexes allowed males to control nearly all the wealth of the kingdom. Only the occasional widowed female sun-dragon might hold a position of authority as Chakthalla did. And, at least sun-dragons formed families, where males and females lived together. With sky-dragons like Vendevorex, the segregation of sexes was total, with the males and females living in completely different towns, and mating being a carefully choreographed affair based completely on compatable genetics. For sky-dragons, mating was a purely biological activity, and concepts such as romance, love, or even family were pointless constructs invented by more muddled thinkers.
Seated next to Chakthalla was a human male, perhaps five years older than Jandra. Like his owner, the man was the product of excellent breeding. He was handsome to a fault with long blond hair and chiseled features. His bronzed skin glowed; his broad smile revealed teeth white as porcelain. He was dressed in silk, his clothing cut to show off his tight, well-muscled physique. Jandra hadn’t been properly introduced to him yet-she’d only heard Chakthalla refer to him as “Pet.”
“Pet,” Chakthalla said. “Show Vendevorex your little trick. The one with the apple.”
“Yes, Mother,” Pet answered, smiling as he stood in his seat and stepped onto the table.
Pet somersaulted gracefully across the dishes, darting his hand out as he passed over the fruit dish. He landed on his feet, now holding an apple and a napkin in one hand and a silver knife in the other. He threw the knife and apple straight into the air and in rapid motion tied the napkin around his face. He knotted the impromptu blindfold in time to snatch the falling knife and apple.
The items didn’t remain in his grasp for even a second. The apple left his hand, then the knife, and soon both floated in a constant arc above his head, his hands merely tapping them as they reached the bottom of the circle.
Jandra watched the performance, impressed by Pet’s skill, yet vaguely disturbed by the scene. She had been relieved to learn that Chakthalla would allow her to eat at the dinner table with Vendevorex. Some dragons allowed humans at dinner tables only on platters as the main course. Chakthalla’s liberal attitude toward human companions was obviously shaped by her love of Pet. That bothered Jandra as she watched Pet perform like a tamed bear. She wondered how many hours of practice he’d put into the act solely to please Chakthalla.
Pet sliced the apple in half midair and then sent the pieces up in the air to be quartered. With a flick of his wrists, two of the quarters went flying, one landing in the center of Chakthalla’s plate, the other landing slightly to the side of Vendevorex’s. Pet caught the third quarter in his mouth as he pulled his blindfold free with a flourish and bowed. Jandra lost track of where the final quarter of the apple landed.
“Very good, Pet,” said Chakthalla.
Pet bit a chunk from his apple, swallowed, then said, “Oh, but Mother, I have been remiss. It seems not everyone was served.”
Pet back-flipped from the table landing next to Jandra. He stood with such grace that Jandra suddenly felt clumsy merely sitting still. Now that he stood close to her she noted the breathtaking jade color of his eyes.
“It wouldn’t do to have this lovely lady go without her share,” Pet said, taking Jandra’s hand. His long slender fingers were softer than her own; his nails were trimmed in perfect arcs. Pet turned her palm upward, revealing the last quarter of the apple in the center of it. He closed her fingers around it, then leaned and kissed the back of her hand with his warm pink lips.
“How sweet,” Chakthalla said. “I think Pet likes your little Jandy.”
“Jandra,” Vendevorex corrected.
Pet returned to his seat next to Chakthalla. The regal dragon reached out her bejeweled talon to stroke his long blond hair. He rolled his eyes with pleasure. Jandra felt slightly ill.
She was bothered that Pet called Chakthalla “Mother.” Though she never addressed him as such, she sometimes thought of Vendevorex as a father. He had raised her for as long as she could remember. Since her true parents had died when she was only an infant, Vendevorex was the closest thing to a parent she would ever have.
But what place did she occupy in Vendevorex’s heart? Vendevorex never discussed emotion. He treated her kindly and was often smotheringly protective, but it wasn’t quite the same as affection. Did he think of her as his daughter? His apprentice? Or merely his pet?
Vendevorex asked, “Have you received any word, my lady, from your friends?”
“Not as yet. Be patient. These are delicate matters we inquire about.”
“Of course,” Vendevorex said.
“I’m sure things will turn in our favor,” Chakthalla said. “Albekizan has made many enemies over the years. If what you say is true and Albekizan does plan to kill all humans, we shall not want for allies. Thinning out the village rabble is one thing, but there are many others who feel as strongly about their darlings as I do about Pet. You, of course, understand the bond between a dragon and her best friend.”
“Of course,” Vendevorex said.
“My messengers will mention your name in their queries,” Chakthalla said, a tone of pride in her voice. “Vendevorex is a name that carries a great deal of weight.”
“And a great deal of liability. I am sure, my lady, that you use extreme caution as you speak my name. If Albekizan learns I am here, it will endanger your life and destroy our plans.”
“I assure you, I know who to trust,” Chakthalla said.
As Jandra looked away from Chakthalla, she saw that Pet had his gaze fixed squarely upon her. She looked down at her plate and stirred the spiced potatoes with her fork. She had little experience dealing with human males, but she had a strong suspicion of what Pet’s stare meant. Many dragons who kept humans as pets bred them. Pet certainly looked like a thoroughbred. Jandra felt relieved that she didn’t have a pedigree. No sense in giving Chakthalla ideas, especially since she wasn’t sure what Vendevorex would say to such a proposal.
AFTER DINNER, VENDEVOREX walked the halls of Chakthalla’s palace, lost in thought. Jandra followed close behind but he was barely aware of her. He was thinking of the solid stone walls of Albekizan’s abode. The king’s home was built for defense with high, solid walls, slits for windows, and guard towers in all directions. Chakthalla’s home was a much more open space. The elegant ceilings were roofed with wooden arches which would fall beneath the first catapult assault. Huge, decorative windows filled with tinted glass panes lined the upper halves of the rooms. When war came, the glass would fall like deadly rain. Chakthalla’s home was built for beauty, not for war.
“How much longer will we have to stay here, Ven?” Jandra asked.
Vendevorex’s brow furrowed at the question. He faced her and said, “For weeks, you’ve only expressed impatience at the slow crawl of the negotiations that brought us here. Don’t tell me you are in a hurry to leave.”
“I’m not,” she said. “But it’s been almost two months since Albekizan decided to wipe out the human race. I want to tackle our problems head on, take action.”
“Action and problems will seek us out. It’s foolish to invite them before their time.”
“You’ve been training me to fight,” Jandra said. She tightened her jaw and threw back her shoulders, looking as fierce as her five-foot tall, slender frame could manage. “I’m tired of sitting around waiting on all this letter-writing and spy games.”
“The history of the world is shaped as much by the exchange of letters as it is by the waging of war,” Vendevorex said.
“But there will be war, won’t there? Someone has to stand up to Albekizan.”
Vendevorex paused, contemplating her words. He found it difficult to believe Jandra was so hungry for war. He suspected she might have another motivation for wanting to know how long they would stay here.
“You seemed ill at ease tonight at dinner,” Vendevorex said.
Jandra shrugged. “Something about this place disturbs me.”
Vendevorex nodded. “I was thinking the same thing. But I need a safe place to gather my thoughts. We can count on Chakthalla’s loyalty. She despises Albekizan.”
“I don’t trust her,” said Jandra. “It sounds like she’s bragging to her friends that she’s sheltering you.”
“We can only have faith that her words will reach the right ears.”
“I think you trust her too far,” Jandra said.
Vendevorex analyzed the edge in Jandra’s voice. Annoyance? Jealousy? He wished he were better at understanding her moods. He knew that humans experienced a stage of development in the years following puberty characterized by unpredictable emotional swings. He tried not to think about it. There were more important worries.
“Well?” Jandra asked.
“What? Do I trust her too far? Obviously, I don’t believe so. That could prove suicidal. There are many, many secrets I keep from her-and from everyone.”
“Even me?”
“Even you,” Vendevorex said. He thought again of the ultimate secret he kept from her, then chased it quickly from his mind. She would never learn the truth of her origins. “But I see no reason to keep you in the dark,” he said. “My decision to come here was one made in weakness. I doubt that our paths will intermingle with Chakthalla’s for long.”
“What do you mean?”
“Now that I’ve spent time in Chakthalla’s company, I see that turning to her was a futile hope. Chakthalla is planning a rebellion the way she would plan a holiday picnic. It’s something she’ll invite a few close friends to for an afternoon’s diversion. None who stand with her have the wits to know what they are up against, or the strength of will to make their rebellion work.”
“But you stand with them,” Jandra said. “You have the wits and the will.”
“No,” Vendevorex said, shaking his head. “The situation has spun beyond my control. For too many years I’ve watched Albekizan in his ruthless quest for power. Indeed, I’ve helped him gain that power. I’ve killed for our king, Jandra. I’ve used my abilities to eliminate the very dragons who would now have the greatest chance of success against Albekizan.”
“You couldn’t know this day would come,” Jandra said. “You did what you thought was best at the time. You told me it was good for the dragons to be united under a strong king.”
“So I believed. It was certainly to my advantage.”
“How so?”
Vendevorex contemplated his answer. There were still many, many things he didn’t wish to reveal.
“No one in this kingdom knows of my past. I arrived seventeen years ago, a stranger to all. I used my status as an outsider to cultivate an air of mystery. I eventually made my way into Albekizan’s court. I was given respect, power, wealth: all things that had eluded me in my former homeland. As Albekizan’s power increased, so did mine. I always spoke freely with him, told him whenever I felt he grew too ruthless or cruel. This appeased my conscience. But I never made any move to stop him, nor did I ever refuse a share of the bounty of his conquests.”
Jandra looked confused. “Your former homeland… Where was it?” she asked. “How could it lie outside of Albekizan’s kingdom?”
“Ah, to be as innocent as you are now.” Vendevorex placed his fore-talon on Jandra’s shoulder. “Let’s just say the world was once a much larger place.”
“What do you mean?”
“Albekizan controls only a small sliver of this world, isolated geographically by mountains to the west and an ocean to the east. But beyond the mountains there are other lands. I was born in one of these faraway kingdoms. Sky-dragons there form families in much the way that sun-dragons do here. I was the youngest of seven brothers. I had little chance of ever inheriting land or power, and less chance of taking it forcefully. So I left, seeking my fortunes in the frontier beyond. It was the beginning of a journey that is now rather difficult to explain.”
“I can’t believe it,” Jandra said. “A whole world beyond the mountains? Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“It never seemed important. I have good reasons for not discussing my homeland. But now, it seems, I have even better reasons to return to it.”
“Return?”
Vendevorex nodded. “Until now, I hadn’t made up my mind as to the best course of action. I clung to the hope that it would be possible to fight Albekizan. My consultations with Chakthalla show this to be folly. Our best hope lies on the other side of the mountains.”
“The best hope to stop Albekizan? You think we can find allies there? Your family, maybe?”
Vendevorex shook his head. “We must think of ourselves now. If we stay here we will throw our lives away for a lost cause.”
“But if we run, who will fight for the humans?” Jandra asked, her voice rising.
Vendevorex recognized her emotions stirring again. He tried to calm her with reason. “The humans must fight for themselves. United, they may succeed. A war of attrition favors them due to their superior numbers. In the end, humans may simply outbreed their way to victory.”
Jandra grew pale. Vendevorex tried to interpret her eyes. Was she reassured by his words? No, there were tears forming. He’d disappointed her instead of reassuring her. He sighed. Why did she have to make things so difficult?
“Don’t you care about the millions who will die?” she asked softly.
“Jandra, you’re too young to understand,” he said firmly, hoping to end this discussion. “I’m not heartless. I’ve given up all my power and prestige. I won’t assist Albekizan in genocide. But I also won’t risk my life in such a lopsided cause.”
“You aren’t willing to die for humans.”
“It’s not-”
“You aren’t willing to die for me?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth. I’ve raised you for many years now. You mean a great deal to me.”
“I mean a great deal… that’s all?” Jandra said, her voice trembling. “Is it true then? I’m nothing more than a pet to you?”
Vendevorex hadn’t expected this response. “What?”
“I’m not blind or deaf. Chakthalla acts as if I’m your pet and you say nothing to make her think differently.”
He shrugged. “It’s simple courtesy not to hurt the feelings of our hostess.”
“But you think nothing of hurting my feelings, do you?” Jandra said through clenched teeth.
“I admit,” Vendevorex said, on the verge of exasperation, “that I often have trouble comprehending the logic of your feelings.”
Jandra sucked in her breath, looking for all the world like she was getting ready to shout. Then she turned and walked away, fists clenched. He hoped she would walk off her anger. Vendevorex felt a good deal of relief that this confrontation was behind them. When conditions were more favorable he would make things up to her.
ZEEKY COULD SEE the castle against the sunset. She’d been this close to the castle only once, last year when her father had taken food to the next village. He had told her the castle belonged to a dragon and that Zeeky should never go near the place. But Zeeky had wanted so badly to visit.
The castle was lovely. On foggy mornings its graceful spires seemed to float in the sky. She often saw dragons in flight, their shadows falling over her as they passed above. Some of her friends were frightened by the shadows. She was always thrilled. She wanted more than anything in the world to touch the skin of a dragon; she imagined it to be soft and smooth, like snakeskin. She once dreamed that she was a dragon perched on the castle wall, looking over the valley.
Now she was finally going inside the castle walls. It was the only place she could think of to hide Poocher where her father would never follow. She wasn’t sure what dragons ate-horses, maybe-but she knew without a doubt what her father ate, and from the moment she’d laid eyes on Poocher she’d known she couldn’t let it happen.
It was well into night when she reached the small village that lay just outside the castle walls. The full moon dominated the sky, pierced by the dark silhouette of the castle’s tallest tower. Zeeky’s excitement at being so near the castle was somewhat muted by her exhaustion. Poocher snored softly in her arms and she felt as if she could simply lie down on the ground where she stood and drift away.
But that would be stupid. The villagers would find her and return her to her father, and then what would happen to Poocher? No, she would have to find shelter. Fortunately, she could make out the dim shapes of farm buildings across some nearby fields. She slipped through a wooden fence and made her way toward a barn. A dog barked angrily, the sound growing rapidly nearer. The large hound materialized from the darkness.
“Shhh,” whispered Zeeky, pressing a finger to her lips. “You’ll wake everybody up.”
The dog stopped barking and approached her, sniffing. Zeeky scratched the old hound behind its ears.
“That’s a good boy,” she said. She had always gotten along better with animals than people. Animals listened to her. People spoke at her.
The dog walked with her to the barn. She noticed a chunk of bloody fur in the dirt in front of the door.
“Poor thing,” she whispered, guessing that the dog had caught up with a rabbit earlier. The dog picked up its meal and wandered off toward the farmhouse.
She slipped into the barn, pausing to let her eyes adjust. The moonlight outside was like daylight compared to the gloom of the barn. She stepped forward carefully, holding a hand before her, until at last she touched the ladder that led to the loft. She climbed slowly. Poocher was awake now and if he began to squirm she didn’t want to drop him from the ladder.
As her head reached the top of the loft an arm thrust down from the darkness, grabbing her by the collar. She screamed but was instantly muffled by the large, rough hand that clamped over her mouth. She clasped Poocher with both arms as her assailant lifted her the rest of the way into the loft.
“Stop squirming,” said a deep, gravely voice. “I’m going to let go of your mouth so you can answer a few questions. I’m not going to hurt you so don’t scream, understand?”
Zeeky nodded. The man’s hand left her mouth. He still held her by the collar from behind so that she couldn’t turn to face him.
“Did you have a good dinner tonight?” he asked. “I smelled fried chicken up at the house. Can you get me some?”
Zeeky didn’t know how to answer.
“C’mon. Talk. You got nothing to be afraid of.”
“I… didn’t have dinner tonight.”
“Oh?” the man said, sounding curious. “Why not? You being punished?”
“I can’t tell.”
“What did you do?”
“I didn’t do nothing. I didn’t eat dinner here ’cause I don’t live here.”
“Then what are you doing in this barn?”
“What are you doing in here?” Zeeky replied.
“Trying to get some sleep without some nosy kid butting in.”
“I’m not nosy. I didn’t know you were up here. I’m just looking for a place to spend the night.”
“You a runaway?”
“No. I’m… I’m an orphan.”
“Huh,” the man said. “Well, me too. So I guess you got as much right to pass the night here as I do.”
The man let go of her collar and Zeeky spun around. She found a skinny old man with gray, thinning hair and tattered clothing. Spread on the straw beside him was a large gray cloak which held a longbow, a quiver of arrows, and a large knife in a leather sheath. The old man smiled, showing two teeth missing from the bottom.
“I see you brought a pig, kid. Good thinking. Kind of a runt, though. But split between just the two of us-”
Zeeky squinched her eyes and said in the sternest voice she could muster, “Poocher’s not for eating. He’s my friend.”
“Oh.” The man shrugged. “Whatever. Not much meat on him anyway. Guess we’re stuck with potatoes,” her loftmate said, holding out a large spud. “Want one?”
“Thank you,” Zeeky said, taking the potato. “What’s your name? Mine’s Zeeky.”
“Zeeky? Never met anyone named Zeeky.”
“Well, now you have.”
“You got some sass in you, kid. I like that.”
“What’s your name?”
“If you knew that, I’d have to kill you,” the man said.
“Why? Are you a bad guy?”
“Could be,” he answered. “I stole these potatoes.”
“I stole fruit last night. Stealing food ain’t always bad.”
“The way I was raised, it is.”
Zeeky shrugged. “Then we both must be bad guys.”
He nodded. “Brother outlaws.”
“But I’m a girl.”
“Okay, brother and sister outlaws.”
“You gonna tell me your name?”
The old man started to say something, then stopped. He smirked, then asked, “Can you keep a secret?”
“Sure.”
“Okay. Then keep this one real good,” the stranger said, leaning close to her. His breath smelled of rotting teeth as he whispered, “I’m Bitterwood.”
“No,” Zeeky said.
“No?” The old man leaned back away from her. “I thought sure I was.”
Zeeky rolled her eyes. She hated when adults treated her like she didn’t know anything. “Bitterwood’s this hero, okay? He lives in a big castle and he rides around on this white horse and has a shiny sword and a fancy hat with feathers in it. He fights dragons who are mean to nice people.”
“Oh,” the man said. He scratched his head, looking confused. “So… I’m not Bitterwood?”
“No, silly.”
“Huh,” he said. “Then I’m at a bit of a disadvantage. I must have forgot my name. Why don’t you just call me… Hey You.”
“Hey You?”
“Hey, for short. Mr. You if you’re feeling formal.”
“Okay, You.”
“That’s Mr. You to you,” he said.
“You’re silly,” Zeeky said. “I like you.”
Mr. You’s lips bent slightly upward into an expression not quite a smile. “Thank you,” he said. “Not many people like me.”
“Maybe if you didn’t scare little girls in barns, people would think you were nicer,” she said.
“Could be,” he said. “I don’t normally try to scare anyone. It just happens.”
“Maybe you need somebody to hang out with you and give you advice on not scaring people.”
“Like a little girl?” Hey You said. Then, his partial smile faded. He nodded as he said, softly, “You might be onto something. People did like me more when I had a little girl. I had two of them, actually, a long time ago.”
“Did something happen to them?”
He looked down into the straw and mumbled, “Yes.” Then he took a deep breath and said, “Enough chit chat. If you want, you can stretch out on my cloak and I’ll sleep on one of them straw bales. We gotta get up before dawn if we want to avoid being caught.”
“Okay.” Zeeky didn’t need much convincing. She stretched out on his cloak, which was soft and smelled of smoke, and within less than a minute was drifting to sleep, dreaming of dragon castles, barely hearing the dog frantically barking in the distance.
JANDRA STEPPED FROM her sandals so that she would be able to climb more easily. The window had been built to allow a sun-dragon to stand comfortably at it and look out. She could just barely reach the bottom edge of the window if she jumped. She was used to navigating furniture and rooms scaled for beings twice her height. One advantage of the lifestyle was that it had made her a good jumper and a great climber. She pulled herself into the window, the highest in the castle, and looked out over the surrounding farmland. The moonlight bleached the night of all color, but still she could see the rectangular patchwork of farms, the wide river beyond and, far in the distance, the long ridge of mountains that bordered the rich valley.
The houses below looked idyllic. She wondered what it would have been like to have been raised in a normal house rather than a castle tower. She knew that Ruth or Mary would have thought she was crazy. They would have given anything for a taste of her life of privilege and comfort. But tonight she would rather be in one of those small farmhouses than here in the abode of dragons.
Sitting in the window, the cool night air playing against her hair, she remembered her last flight with Vendevorex. It seemed so natural to soar above the earth. She dreamed of flying almost every night. It wasn’t fair that humans were forever earthbound. If she could fly on her own she would never touch ground.
“A lovely night, fair Jandra.Made all the lovelier by your presence.”
Jandra looked back. Pet was behind her, standing on the stairs that entered the tower chamber. He still wore his dinner finery: black pants and boots, a green silk shirt that matched his eyes with a necklace of gold and emeralds. She missed her old wardrobe, all the elaborate headdresses and gowns, now forever lost, she supposed. Having fled with only the clothes on her back, Vendevorex had used his abilities to create a simple cotton blouse and skirt for her. They were nicely crafted and fit her well, but compared to Pet, she may as well have been dressed in burlap rags.
“You look sad,” Pet said. “Is something bothering you?”
“It’s nothing,” she said. She noted the ease with which he’d read the emotions on her face. Why couldn’t Vendevorex be as tuned to her feelings as this stranger? “I just felt like looking at the moon.”
“So I’m not intruding?” Pet asked.
“This is your home,” she said, turning her face away. “I suppose you can go wherever you want.”
“You look as if you wish to be alone,” Pet said. “I wouldn’t want to be where I’m not wanted. If you want me to go away, I will.”
“Thank you,” Jandra said.
“But before I go,” Pet said, “I want you to know I understand.”
“Understand what?”
“Your sorrow. Your loneliness,” he said in his soothing, lyrical voice. “Sometimes, when we feel the greatest need to be alone, it’s the moment we should most welcome the company of others.”
Jandra supposed he meant the words to come across as wise. But they struck her instead as unsolicited advice. She got enough of that from Vendevorex. “You presume much, Pet.”
“Do I? In your eyes, I caught a glimpse of the turmoil in your soul. You’re all alone. I know your master doesn’t understand. He can’t.”
Jandra frowned. “Vendevorex isn’t my master. He’s my… teacher.”
“But he’s not human. He’ll never be sensitive to your needs.”
Jandra shifted in the window, turning her full back to him. “I thought you said you would leave.”
“You haven’t actually asked me to leave. I believe I know why.”
“Oh?”
“You look out into the moonlight and it haunts you. You’re a human living among dragons. You will never be recognized as an equal to the dragons, but neither will you ever be at home among mankind.”
Jandra didn’t want to let him know how right he was. She remained silent, staring into the night. Her gaze fixed on the farthest fields, her eyes drawn to movement, a large mass creeping along the river. A herd of cattle, perhaps. Did cattle come out at night? She turned away from the view to study Pet once more. His eyes continued to look right through her. Was she really so transparent?
She didn’t want to discuss her feelings with him, so she changed the subject. “Is Pet your real name?”
“No. My true name is Petar Gondwell. But Chakthalla prefers to call me Pet.”
“Why do you let her?”
“Why not? It makes her happy.”
“But don’t you want your own identity? Don’t you want what makes you happy?”
“Making Chakthalla happy makes me happy.”
Jandra felt a little ill hearing this, thinking of how she enjoyed pleasing Vendevorex when she did well with her lessons.
“You don’t like my being Chakthalla’s pet,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. “It makes you question your servitude to Vendevorex.”
He is perceptive, thought Jandra.
“You dislike the idea that people are owned by dragons,” Pet ventured. “You want your freedom.”
“I have my freedom,” Jandra said. “Vendevorex doesn’t own me. He’s just… my mentor. My parents died when their house burned down. He’s raised me but he doesn’t own me.”
“Ah. If you are free then you can leave his service at anytime.”
“I suppose. But…”
“But?”
“I don’t know where I would go.”
“Ah.” Pet nodded. “That is a problem, isn’t it? He has you bound by ignorance of the world. This shackles you far more effectively than iron.”
Jandra thought about Vendevorex’s revelation of lands beyond the kingdom. Had he kept her in the dark to limit her possibilities? Who knew what lay beyond the mountains? Perhaps there were places where humans ruled dragons. That would certainly explain his reluctance to discuss them.
“I won’t say that Vendevorex has me in shackles,” she said. “But it bothers me the way he’s always keeping quiet about his plans. He just announces our next move and expects me to follow. He never consults me.”
“It’s the way of dragons,” said Pet. “They can never consider humans as equals. Asking a human for advice is as absurd to them as us asking a dog what the weather will be like.”
Jandra nodded. “I must admit, you surprise me. You seemed so subservient to Chakthalla. I just assumed you let her do all your thinking for you.”
“I make her think she does all my thinking for me. In truth, I’m the sole master of my fate, fair Jandra. Humans are dealt a very bad hand. In the villages, men struggle to survive. Some become comfortable but none may become wealthy. The only humans to gain a semblance of power are the prophets that seem to grow like mushrooms after floods and plagues. But what do prophets do with their prestige? Wage war against the non-believers in the next village who are following their own prophet. In the end, there is little profit in prophecy.”
“No,” she said. “I suppose not.”
“But to live among dragons is a far different fate,” Pet said. “As a favorite of a dragon I am showered with jewels. I sleep on sheets of silk; I drink from cups of gold. All Chakthalla asks in exchange are a few tricks and a sympathetic ear.”
“It sounds attractive when you put it that way,” Jandra said. “But still, to be a pet… Have you no pride?”
“I take pride in a job well done,” Pet said with a slight bow. “I’m an actor, a singer, an acrobat, a poet, a master of diverse arts and talents. I think of Chakthalla as my patron rather than my keeper.”
“But Chakthalla owns you,” Jandra said. “You don’t have freedom.”
He shrugged. “A vastly overrated commodity. Do I want the freedom to be poor? Do I want the freedom to tear my food from the hard earth, to struggle daily to endure? No. This way is better. As Petar I could pursue nothing but daily toil. As Pet I can pursue the finer things in life. Beautiful women such as yourself, for instance, are found only in the courts of dragons.”
“Please,” Jandra said, rolling her eyes. “I’m not beautiful.”
“Oh dear. He doesn’t tell you, does he?”
“Doesn’t tell me what?”
“Vendevorex never tells you how lovely you are.”
Jandra lowered her head. “No. He doesn’t.”
“Dragons know nothing of human hearts. The loveliest woman never sees her own beauty with her eyes until she sees it with her heart.”
Jandra sat quietly, contemplating his words. Beautiful? Pet was beautiful. Bodiel had been beautiful. She was just plain. Wasn’t she? She felt slightly dizzy at the possibility.
“I think,” she said, “I should go back to my chambers.”
“Why?” Pet asked.
“I’m tired,” she said though she wasn’t. She was nervous for reasons she didn’t quite understand, but she couldn’t tell him that. “It’s been a long day.”
“Vendevorex will expect you to sleep in his quarters?” Pet asked.
“I suppose,” she said. “I normally do.”
“Do you always do what he wants you to do?”
“I don’t sleep there because he wants me to. I sleep there because we’re on the run. Where else am I to sleep?”
“My chambers. I have the most wonderful bed. The moment your body touches it, I guarantee you will be in ecstasy.”
“Oh,” she said. “I, um…”
“There are many areas in which a person may be shackled by a lack of knowledge,” Pet said slyly. “I have a key. I can teach you many things. Open doors to worlds you haven’t even dreamed of.”
Pet’s gaze met hers and held it for a long moment. She found his stare most unsettling.
“I should… should go now,” she said. Yet her body didn’t seem to agree. It remained frozen on the window ledge, her lips parted, her eyes fixed on his deep emerald eyes. With effort, she turned away, looking back over the fields. The moving mass she had seen in the distance was much closer now, practically at the castle walls. It no longer looked like a herd of cattle. What was going on? Then she noticed a score of lights in the sky, moving more erratically than stars. She focused upon them and could see the dark shapes of sky-dragons above. They swooped closer and she saw that the lights came from small iron pots dangling from chains.
“Oh no,” she said.
She spun around and jumped from the window. She landed, to her surprise, in Pet’s arms. He lowered her to her feet, his face only inches from her own. Then, without warning, he lowered his lips to hers. She’d never been kissed before. She stood there, stunned, all but paralyzed with the shock of it. He smelled wonderful. Pet wrapped his arms around her. She noticed how well her body fit against his. Could this really be happening?
A voice in the back of her head kept yelling that she had more important things to attend to at the moment, and at last she listened to this voice. She summoned the strength to push Pet away.
“There isn’t time for this! I’ve got to get to Vendevorex!” she said.
“That’s your fear speaking, fair one,” he said, his voice a gentle coo. “It’s not the voice of your heart.”
“No! You don’t understand!”
Pet grabbed her by the arms and kissed her again. She struggled but his strength was far greater that hers. This time it wasn’t even mildly pleasant. She beat at his back with her clenched fists.
At last he broke the kiss, pushing her away, but not letting go of her arms, “I apologize. Your beauty has caused me to lose all caution. I’ve pushed you too far, too fast. You’re scared. You’re young, confused by the stirrings in your body, confused by the burning in your soul.”
“It’s not my soul I’m worried about!” she snapped, but her words were drowned by the beating of wings. Light bright as day flashed through the window. A burning cauldron crashed against the far wall then clattered as it bounced around the room, throwing flames in all directions.