SHAY COUGHED HIMSELF awake; smoke scoured his lungs. At least, he felt like he was awake, though the evidence of his eyes argued that he was trapped within a nightmare. He was a hundred feet in the air on the exterior of a stone tower, slung over a white saddle on the back of a fifty foot long, copper-colored serpent. He should be falling-the beast he rode was moving along the vertical wall of the tower, racing across it as easily as if it were flat ground, gripping the walls with dozens of sharp-clawed legs. Fortunately, the saddle felt as if it were coated with glue-his stomach was held firmly against it in defiance of gravity.
Craning his neck and squinting to see through the haze of smoke, he found that the copper serpent was studded with riders both familiar and strange. Jandra sat on the saddle in front of him with Lizard standing on her shoulder, hissing loudly as he shook his small fist at the flock of sky-dragons wheeling toward them. Behind him Anza crouched upon a white saddle, her fingers bristling with throwing knives. He felt a sense of vertigo… given the angle at which she was perched, she should be falling. Behind her, near the tail of the beast, a black and white pig wore a silver visor that hid his eyes. It sat upon the saddle serenely, oblivious to the swaying, lurching gait of the serpent as it undulated across the tower. Beyond the pig sat a little blonde girl, perhaps ten years old, thin even by Shay's scarecrowish standard. She, too, wore a metal visor that hid her eyes.
At the beast's head Bitterwood stood in his saddle, his bow drawn, firing arrow after arrow into the swarm of dragons that dove toward them. Shay stared at the legendary dragon-slayer. He was a good deal shorter than Shay, and not particularly heroic in his stance or gestures. He looked like one of the field slaves at middle age, weathered, wizened, and worn out. The deep wrinkles around his eyes twitched as they flickered from target to target. His hands moved with inhuman speed back and forth from quiver to bow. The bowstring sang with a musical rhythm, humming for a few seconds until an arrow was placed against it once more, zuum, zuum, zuum, zuum. The arrows, he noted, had the same bright green leaves fletching them as the arrows that had killed the slavecatchers by the river.
Shay tried to rise, if "rise" had any true meaning in this strange sideways world he'd woke in. As he moved, his center of gravity began to spin. He felt the ground below calling to him. He grabbed at the beast's scales, overlapping thin disks, metallic in their chill. He found himself slipping.
"Don't struggle," the blonde girl called out. "The saddle will hold you if you let it."
Shay struggled. His legs were now dangling straight down.
He was looking toward Anza, who rolled her eyes. She hurled her throwing knives heavenward and a sky-dragon suddenly tilted and fell, its wings limp. Anza pulled her long sword from the scabbard over her back. She raised it over her head, and swung the flat of the blade at Shay.
Thunder cracked somewhere near the base of his skull and the world went dark once more.
SHAY WOKE TO the slightly sweet stink of manure and hay. He was flat on his back on a large bale of straw, his head pounding with each heart beat. He raised his hand to discover a knot the size of walnut on the back of his scalp. He sat up, trying to remember where and why he'd gotten the injury. He was in a barn, with horses in stalls staring at him lazily. It was distantly familiar; he knew he'd been here before. This barn was attached to an inn on the edge of Richmond. It was where they had left their horses before going to the Dragon Palace.
He rose on trembling legs. There were voices outside, familiar ones. He stumbled toward the barn door. It hurt to walk. He remembered Bitterwood's ungentlemanly assault. Kicking someone in the balls wasn't behavior he would have expected from a legendary champion of humanity.
Shay pushed the barn door open and his eyes were instantly drawn toward the horizon. Flames shot into the air in a huge inferno that reached to the stars themselves. The Grand Library, housing a thousand years of history and literature, was now the world's largest bonfire. He dropped to his knees in the barnyard muck, feeling ill. Not more than ten feet away, sitting on the edge of a rain barrel, Jandra watched the flames as well. Squatting on the ground before her was the old man, Bitterwood.
Jandra was now wearing a calf-length coat that fit as if it had been tailored for her. The fabric was pale blue, the same color as a sky-dragon's wings. Shay had gotten used to seeing Jandra in the shapeless, drab, earth-dragon coat. She looked smaller now, yet at the same time more powerful, more like a sorceress than a refugee. She shook her head as she watched the flames. "Bant, it's not that I don't appreciate the rescue, but this was a pretty horrible thing to do."
"It got you out of the palace with minimal danger," said Bitterwood.
"Since when do you worry about danger? I'm amazed you let Chapelion live. You're normally not so merciful."
"Mercy had nothing to do with it," said Bitterwood. "I came here to save you, not kill Chapelion."
"You had him in your sights," she said.
"He wasn't the biggest threat. You were trapped by a net, surrounded by armed earth-dragons. I'm not positive I could have kept you alive if a battle had broken out."
"The one thing I'm not clear on is how, exactly, you knew I needed saving?"
"You understand it better than I, no doubt. Zeeky still hears whispers from the crystal ball the goddess gave her. The ghosts inside can see the future. They told Zeeky to save you. I wasn't in favor of dropping everything to chase you across the countryside, but I don't fare any better arguing with her than I do with you."
"Hmm," said Jandra. "Jazz said that if you were trapped in underspace, you could see the past and future with equal clarity. I know Zeeky's crystal ball contains a tiny sliver of underspace. Jazz said she kept her best secrets to herself… Underspace was one of those secrets. I have only a rough understanding of the science behind it. Apparently there are more dimensions to the world than the three we normally perceive. Alas, the practical science of traveling through these extra dimensions wasn't shared with me." In the distance, there was a horrible rumble. Sparks shot into the air like fireworks as a huge section of the upper tower crumbled and collapsed inward. "Shay's going to have a fit when he hears about this," Jandra said.
Shay realized they didn't know he was there. He pulled himself up from the muck, his fists clenched. "Y-you…," he growled as he stalked toward Bitterwood. "You… you… you!"
"Unclench your fists, boy," said Bitterwood, his eyes narrowing into slits. "I let you off easy. Swing at me and you'll never eat solid food again."
Shay couldn't open his fists if he wanted to. He couldn't move at all-rage paralyzed him. His voice came out in a low, hissing whisper: "How could you?"
Bitterwood shrugged. "I'm good at hitting things. If I can knock the teeth out of a sun-dragon, I reckon I can do the same to a skinny house-slave."
Jandra smirked. "I think he meant how could you set the library on fire."
"Oh," said the dragon-slayer. "That was nothing. I just broke a lantern."
"RRRaaah!" Shay snarled as he threw his arms up in the air in his frustration, shaking his fists at the stars. He hopped up and down, releasing guttural growls, his anger stripping him of all coherent thought. Within the barns, a horse whinnied.
"Calm down, Shay," said Jandra. "You're spooking the horses."
Shay stopped moving. He concentrated on the breath flowing in ragged gushes across his lips. He opened and closed his trembling hands as he tried to gain control of his rage. He whispered, "Th-there… there were over a m-million books in that Library. Do you have any idea what an evil thing you have done?"
"Books have never done the world any good, boy," said Bitterwood. "At least, no good for humans. Dragons have spent a thousand years writing books that justify why they rule the world. Good riddance, I say."
Shay was certain that he was going to vomit in his anger. He dropped to his hands and knees, shuddering, feeling as if his heart was going to burst. "I'm cursed," he moaned. "It's the only explanation. Every book I'm near bursts into flame. I've nothing left to live for."
Bitterwood shook his head in disgust. Jandra hopped off the barrel and crouched next to Shay. She put her hand on his shoulder. "There's no such thing as a curse," she said. "We've just had a run of bad luck. It's a time of war. Things get burnt."
"But-"
"Listen," she said. "Burke was right. Books are more than paper and ink. The information inside them is essentially immortal. Not all the books in the library are lost. I have images of thousands of them inside my head, complete editions. If I can get my genie back, I can recreate them molecule by molecule, the paper, the ink, everything."
"I don't understand," Shay said.
"I'm not following you either," Bitterwood said.
"I mean when I had my genie, I possessed total recall. Any book I'd ever read was still stored in my brain. They're still there, I just don't know how to access them."
"No," said Bitterwood. "I mean, you said you needed to get your genie back. I know you had changed it so that it no longer looked like a helmet, and were wearing it beneath your clothes. Are you saying you've lost it?"
"I guess quite a bit's happened since we last saw each other. Hex and I went from the Nest to Dragon Forge to learn more about the rebellion and see if there was anything we could do to help."
"But… Hex was a sun-dragon," said Shay. "Why would he help the rebels?"
Jandra stood up and turned away. She had her back to them as she said, "I mean we came to help Shandrazel put down the rebellion." She tensed as she said this, as if expecting Bitterwood to pounce on her. Bitterwood didn't appear to be surprised by this revelation, however.
"Why would you side with the dragons?" asked Shay.
"I was raised by a dragon. I'm afraid my loyalties have always been divided. I don't think that humans have gotten a fair shake in this world, but I also know from personal experience that most dragons are good, reasonable beings."
"Dragons hold slaves and hunt men for sport. We have different definitions of what comprises good and reasonable," said Shay.
Jandra's shoulders sagged at these words.
"I'm surprised Hex would side with his brother," said Bitterwood. "His philosophies leaned toward anarchy."
"I'm afraid you're a better judge of his character than I was," said Jandra. "I visited Dragon Forge as Shandrazel's ambassador. Pet accompanied me back to see Shandrazel, saying he was the one human who had a chance of peacefully negotiating a settlement between the warring sides. Unfortunately, he had a poisoned dagger hidden in his cloak. He murdered Shandrazel. Before I could neutralize the poison, Hex pounced on me and ripped my genie away, robbing me of my powers. I was left to watch both Shandrazel and Pet die, while Hex flew off with the most powerful weapon in the world."
"Hex is only alive because you made me promise not to kill him."
"I know," said Jandra.
"Hex is the only blood kin left of Albekizan," said Bitterwood.
"I know," Jandra said, biting her nails once more.
"Will you free me from my vow?"
Jandra wrung her hands. "Do what you have to do," she said. "But he may not have the genie. He's probably hidden it somewhere. If you find him… it… it's possible that…"
"I know how to bleed a dragon of his secrets," said Bitterwood.
"I… I don't think Hex is evil," she said, her voice trembling. "He… he thinks he's doing the right thing. He thinks he's making the world a better place."
Bitterwood looked toward the burning tower. "You'll sleep better after you give up that hope."
Shay rose up onto his knees. "Jandra, if you have books inside you, I'll do everything in my power to bring you back your genie."
"You have no power, boy," said Bitterwood. "Hex would eat you for supper."
Shay wished his shotgun were nearby. It hadn't been by his side when he woke up. He would gladly demonstrate this power for Bitterwood.
"I think we should go back to Jazz's underground kingdom," said Jandra.
"Why?" asked Bitterwood.
"Hex and I left in a hurry, since we wanted to get back to the Nest to help in the aftermath of Blasphet's atrocities. We didn't search her island. I might find another genie there."
"You wouldn't survive the journey," said Bitterwood. "That kingdom was held together by her will. Now that the goddess is dead, many of the beasts she cared for will be hungry."
"I can't believe they'd still be alive," said Jandra. "That whole ecosystem had to collapse once the artificial sunlight went out."
"I won't go with you," said Bitterwood. "I rescued you as a favor for Zeeky; I don't plan to make a career of it."
"So what will you do?"
Bitterwood pulled an arrow from his quiver. "The goddess gave me this bow and quiver. The quiver constantly refreshes itself, growing new arrows. The arrows are living things, twigs straight and true, with leaves for fletching and a thorn for a head. This bow, which is strung with a braid of the goddess's own hair, is the most perfectly balanced weapon I've ever used. It, too, constantly renews itself. When the bowstring frays in the heat of usage, it reweaves moments later. I've scuffed the bark of the bow and watched it heal itself. I don't know how long this magic will last, now that she's dead."
"It could last a long time," said Jandra. "Bio-nano is resilient stuff. As long as your quiver gets sunlight, it should function for years."
"How do plants grow with no water?" Shay asked. "Or no soil, for that matter."
"Orchids and other epiphytes don't need soil," said Jandra, "Bitterwood is probably supplying the quiver with all that it needs. The human body sheds moisture and nutrients, like dead skin cells. The quiver grabs those for fuel, I'm guessing. After you work for a while on the nano-scale, you get used to thinking of dust as a resource."
"Perhaps," said Bitterwood. "But I'm used to thinking of dust as the fate of all men. My days on this earth are numbered. Watching this endlessly renewing quiver has brought many things to mind. I think I died in that cave above Big Lick. You brought me back, Jandra."
"Oh," she said. "That. Your heart was only stopped for a minute or two. You were in a state of cardiac arrest, but you still had brain activity."
"If I were in a similar state now, you couldn't save me," said Bitterwood.
"Not without my powers, no," said Jandra.
"You asked me why I didn't kill Chapelion. Why I didn't simply leap into the fray and take on fifty dragons at once. The truth is, despite the fact that you've restored me to full health, I'm growing old, Jandra. Zeeky has no relatives, save for her missing brother, Jeremiah. If I die, who will care for her?"
"What are you saying, Bant?" asked Jandra.
"I'm saying that I'm giving up my life as a dragon hunter." Bitterwood looked up toward the sky, at the few stray stars visible through the smoke that veiled the night. "If I stumble across Hex, I'll kill him, but I'm not hunting him. I'm going back to the mountains to search for Jeremiah. Once I've found him, I want to return to the life I once lived as a farmer. I'd like to raise Zeeky and the boy in an environment as close to peace and stability as an old fool like myself can provide."
Jandra's jaw slackened. "You're retiring?" "I've killed more dragons than I can count. I've rid the world of Albekizan's family, save for Hex. There are no sun-dragons who legitimately claim the bloodline of the ancient kings. The sun-dragons are fracturing politically. They can fight among themselves for a while. Let Kanati and his rebels at Dragon Forge deal with the survivors."
Shay felt his anger rise again. "I can't believe you won't go to help the rebels. You're famous throughout the kingdom as the greatest hope of humanity. Why turn your back on us now?"
Bitterwood walked toward Shay, who was still on his knees. Shay turned his face as Bitterwood bowed down to his level. The old man's hot breath washed over him as he whispered, "Hope has never caused a single arrow to fly from my bowstring. Hate is the only cause I've fought for. Hate is like a fire in a man's belly, feeding him when all the food in the world cannot abate his hunger. I've lived with this hate for twenty years, boy. If a man's soul burns long enough, eventually nothing is left but ash. The fire fades once all the fuel is spent."
Bitterwood had two voices. There were times when he was relaxed and spoke like any other man. But other times, in more poetic language, he spoke with a low tone cold as a winter wind. If the damned in hell could speak, they must surely possess voices like this.
Shay blurted out, against his better judgment, "I don't know who these children are that you speak of raising, but I have pity for them."
Bitterwood chuckled. "I'm not a fit father for a normal child," he admitted, sounding human once more. "Luckily, Zeeky doesn't require a father so much as a taller person to get things for her off shelves. She really doesn't even need that now that she has the long-wyrm."
"Long-wyrm?" asked Shay. "I had a dream after you knocked me out. We were on the side of tower, riding on a copper-colored serpent with a hundred limbs as sky-dragons darted all around."
"That wasn't a dream," said Jandra. "Long-wyrms only have twenty-eight legs, by the way. It just looks like more."
"There weren't that many sky-dragons either," said Bitterwood. "I think my reputation may have kept the full aerial guard from turning out… or perhaps they were busy with the fire. I couldn't have shot more than twenty-three before the sky was empty."
"But… were we sideways on the tower? Why didn't we fall?"
"Hyperfriction," said Jandra.
"What?"
"Gravity isn't that hard a force to overcome. The Atlanteans know how to craft material with exotic properties, and the saddles are made of a type of plastic that exhibits something called hyperfriction. You could sit upside down on one and not fall off unless you struggled. It doesn't take much energy to break the hyperfriction's grip, but it's more than strong enough to resist gravity."
"I don't understand anything you just said to me," said Shay.
Jandra shrugged. "Sorry. Working with nanites, I'm used to dealing with surface tension and static. A sticky saddle is useful for a mount that can cling to a ceiling. I can see why Jazz invented it."
"Then… if I didn't dream the long-wyrm, where is it? And where's Anza? And Lizard, for that matter?"
"Skitter spooks the horses," said Bitterwood, "Zeeky took him down to the river. Anza went with her, and so did Lizard."
Shay was surprised. "Lizard never lets himself get more than a few yards away from Jandra."
"Zeeky has a way of winning over the loyalties of beasts," said Bitterwood.
"Lizard isn't a beast," said Jandra. "He's a child. A dragon child, perhaps, but he's not an animal. Young dragons aren't that much different than young people."
"You know nothing about earth-dragons," said Bitterwood. "They're far more animalistic than men. They're instinctually tuned to both respect and fear older, bigger dragons. They respond to being bossed around. Once they get bigger than the dragons who boss them, however, they're quick to test their position in the pecking order. You see a lot of earth-dragons with scars, missing claws, or tails bitten off at the end. They aren't earning these injuries in battle with humans. They inflict these wounds on each other in their constant need to test their position in the hierarchy. Once Lizard puts on another fifty pounds, don't be surprised if he tries to test his strength against you, probably when you least expect it. Even little, his beak is sharp enough to take off a finger if you're careless. Give him a year, and it might be your hand that winds up missing."
"It doesn't have to be that way," said Jandra. "Lizard has a sweet nature. He's responding to my nurturing."
"Believe what you want," said Bitterwood.
Shay agreed with Bitterwood, but there was no way he was going to admit it. He leaned back against the barn wall and looked off toward the distant fire. Another large section of the tower crumbled. Long tongues of flame leapt up and licked the smoke above. Sparks swirled until they vanished in the darkness. In truth, there was something mystically beautiful about the sight. When Shay talked with other humans, he'd never been able to fully explain the magic of books, the sheer illumination and heat that came from crisp, lyrical prose revealing some hidden aspect of the world. Now, at last, here it was, revealed for all to see: the hidden energy of books released, a torch to vanquish the night.
CHAPTER TEN: