© 2017. All rights reserved.
Tiwan was seven when the dragon first came to visit.
She was in the garden of the monastery, playing hunters and quarries with her friend Revath. Tiwan stood against a wall, watching for Revath as he tried to sneak up on her without being seen. A door seemed to open in her mind, as if she’d remembered something she hadn’t realised she’d forgotten. Before she could wonder what this meant, she heard Papa calling her name.
A moment later, Revath popped up from behind a nearby bush. “You said you’d done all your chores.” He scowled, as though suspecting her of arranging this to avoid losing the game.
Papa called her name again, louder. She jogged towards the sound.
“There you are,” Papa said, coming round the corner of the monastery’s main building. He glanced at the clear sky overhead. “Tiwan, Revath, I, ah, I need you to go to the archives and, uh, lie down in the corridor between the Old Nuhysean and the Asdanundish sections. Be very quiet and don’t come out until I fetch you.”
“It’s too nice a day to be stuck indoors reading,” Tiwan replied, repeating something she’d heard Mama say a lot lately. “Can’t we play in the east courtyard instead? We won’t be any trouble, promise.”
Papa checked the sky again. Did he think it was going to rain? There wasn’t a cloud to be seen.
“Just go. Please. There isn’t much time.”
Tiwan stomped her foot. “This isn’t fair! We haven’t done anything wrong!”
“I know you haven’t, dear heart. Just do as you’re told.”
Revath tugged at her wrist, as if going to the archives had been his idea all along. She followed, dragging her feet, torn between wanting to please Papa and not wanting to let Revath think he could boss her around. She glanced over her shoulder to see Papa marching towards the main courtyard.
Inside the archives was pleasantly cool. Papa had told her this was good for the books. The shelves were mostly empty, though Tiwan had never understood why.
“What did you do?” Revath asked as he led her into the Old Nuhysean section.
“I didn’t do anything! That’s what’s so unfair!”
“Your Papa said be quiet.”
That gave her an idea. “What if we play hunters and quarries but don’t count aloud, and then—” Brightness struck her eyes, as if she’d stepped from a dark room into sunlight. She threw her arms around Revath to keep herself from falling.
“Hey!” Revath exclaimed.
A loud thump shook the room, felt more than heard. Shelves rattled, and showers of dust fell from the ceiling. A thick silence descended.
Eyes wide, Revath eased Tiwan’s arms off him and nodded towards the corridor that led to the Asdanundish section.
“It’s not safe,” Tiwan said. “Something’s fallen out of the sky onto the roof. That’s why Papa kept looking up. We should get out.”
He put a finger to her lips. “Your Papa knows what he’s doing. He wouldn’t have said to come here if it wasn’t safe.” He started towards the corridor.
A deep rumbling came from outside, accompanied by a breeze that carried smells of burnt and rotting meat. Tiwan ran to the corridor and threw herself on the floor, whimpering. Moments later, Revath dropped to her side. He slid an arm around her.
“Hush, little one, everything’s going to be all right.”
“There’s a monster outside a huge monster it’s going to eat us up please Kashalbe forgive my sins please Mazor guard me I’ll be good I’ll do anything I swear it…”
Revath patted her shoulder. “Be quiet,” he whispered.
Iko. A voice, louder than she’d thought any voice could be, speaking Papa’s name, right behind her. She screamed and tried to stand, but Revath held her down.
She struggled against his grip. “The monster’s in here.”
He twisted to look behind them. “Nothing there.” He gave a nervous laugh.
“I heard it call Papa’s name.”
“I didn’t hear anything.”
“Liar!”
“Don’t you dare call me that!”
She punched him—not nearly as hard as he deserved, but hard enough to make him let go of her—and jumped to her feet.
The Old Nuhysean section was empty.
“Come back here!” Revath said. “Your Papa will be angry with us!”
Are you Iko? Can you hear me?
The monster was behind her! She spun round, seeing nothing.
“It spoke again,” she whispered. It must be in the Asdanundish section. How had it moved without making a sound? She took a few hesitant paces in that direction, then stopped, aware that moving towards a monster that wanted to eat you was perhaps not the most sensible thing to do.
“Stop pretending you can hear a monster,” said Revath.
She turned, wanting to kick him. “I’m not pretending. It’s the loudest thing I ever heard. Louder than a thunderstorm. Louder than—than the cobbler hawking his wares.”
“Tiwan, we can’t play games now,” said Revath. He stood, holding out a hand to her. “We have to do as your Papa says.”
“I’m not—playing—games.”
I have come. There was a long pause, and Tiwan turned through a full circle, still not seeing the monster. I have come because my kind require the assistance of a rider.
From a great distance came a sound that might have been someone laughing.
“We have to warn Papa,” Tiwan whispered.
“Warn him about what?”
“The monster’s come for him, but he’s out there and it’s in here. We’ll be safer with him.” She started for the Old Nuhysean section.
“There isn’t a monster, you goose. You come back here and lie down, or I’ll tell him it was you who broke that plate yesterday.”
A few minutes ago, such a threat would’ve had her rushing to obey, but she had far more important things to worry about now. “If you want to let the monster eat you and die with your sins unforgiven, that’s up to you. I’m going to find Papa.”
She crept through the Old Nuhysean section towards the exit. Remembering what she’d learned from playing hunters and quarries, she made use of the pillars and bookcases as cover. She expected at any moment to feel Revath’s hand, or worse, the monster’s claws, on her shoulder. But she reached the exit safely. She took a deep breath and slipped outside.
The smell of burnt and rotting meat was stronger here, and she almost gagged. She clapped a hand over her mouth and sprinted for the garden.
No sign of Papa. As she tried to think where he might have gone, she heard the monster’s voice again.
A race of beings exists in the ocean of our world.
It was still right behind her! How could it have followed without her hearing it? She grabbed a stick from a nearby flower bed and turned, swinging it like a sword.
Nothing there.
For most of remembered history, they have co-existed peacefully with my kind.
Again, the monster was behind her. Again, she spun round. Again, nothing there.
“Stop that, you bully,” she hissed. “This isn’t fair.”
A few years ago, as you reckon it, they began a series of unprovoked attacks on our homes and our people.
Tiwan lowered the stick. This monster didn’t sound like something that wanted to eat her. Apart from the fact it was always behind her, it didn’t seem to be interested in her at all.
“Papa!” she shouted.
She heard running footsteps, and Papa came hurtling round the corner, hand raised as though to smack her. “You naughty girl!” He skidded to a halt on the gravel. “I told you to stay in the archives.”
She dropped the stick. “We went to the archives, but we heard a loud bang and an invisible monster started following me. It smells bad.”
Papa frowned. “There’s no such thing as an invisible monster.” He pointed to the archives. “Just—go. Please.”
“The monster keeps talking right behind me in a really loud voice and when I turn around it’s never there. I think it wants to talk to you. It said your name a couple of times and then it said a lot of things I didn’t understand. What does ‘unprovoked’ mean?”
Papa said a very bad word.
Tiwan clapped her hands over her ears. “Mazor guard me Kashalbe guide me Mazor guard me Kashalbe guide—”
Papa pulled one of her hands away. “I’m sorry, dear heart. Don’t pay any attention to the monster, no matter what it says. I promise you—I’ll swear by any God you like, you and Revath and I are all perfectly safe, but this is something I need to do on my own. Now will you please—for all our sakes—go back to the archives and stay there until I come and find you. Will you be a good girl and do that for me?”
Mutely, she nodded, then traipsed towards the archives. After half a dozen steps, she looked behind her. Papa hadn’t moved. He stood with his arms folded, the way he did when he was about to lose his temper with her. She picked up her pace.
Inside the archives, she hid behind the end of the bookcase nearest the entrance and counted to twenty.
What was that about? the monster said.
Tiwan gasped. She crept round the back of the bookcase, so she couldn’t be seen from the entrance, then moved to the side of the entrance and peered out. Papa had left the garden.
“Little one, come back here.” Revath’s voice echoed from further in. She ignored him. “I’ll tell your Papa you ran out.”
“He already knows. Stay there.” Disobedience was a terrible sin, she knew, but curiosity burned in her. She stuck her head out of the entrance. Papa wasn’t there.
We require information that will allow us to defeat our enemy and secure our homes, the monster said.
Staying next to the wall, Tiwan padded towards the main courtyard, where she’d seen Papa come from. The smell grew stronger as she moved. Halfway there, she heard a slow rasping noise, like someone sawing down a tree.
The monster said, We would consider ourselves in your debt.
At the corner of the archive building, Tiwan pressed her body against the wall and edged her head past it.
In the main courtyard stood the monster. The smell was almost strong enough to knock her off her feet. The monster resembled the lizards that liked to sun themselves on the rocks by the wharves, but was huge—almost too big to fit into the space. Its scales were dark red, the colour of a scab. Its mouth, full of sharp white teeth, was half-open, and a floppy tongue hung out of one side. She realised the sawing noise she’d heard was the monster’s breathing. It held one of its front feet slightly off the ground, as though it was injured.
That is one thing we cannot do. The monster spoke without moving its mouth. Or were there two monsters?
A much quieter voice came from the same place behind her as the monster’s. Then we have nothing further to say to one another.
That was Papa! Oh Mazor, he’d know she’d disobeyed him. She’d get such a paddling—
She spun round. Papa wasn’t there. A rustling from the courtyard made her turn back to the monster. It had spread a pair of enormous wings and was flexing them as though not quite sure how they worked. How could she have been so stupid? This wasn’t a monster, it was a dragon.
Papa stood before the dragon, arms folded, close enough for it to snatch him in its jaws if it wanted to eat him. He’d hardly be more than a snack to something that size.
I will return presently to see whether you have changed your mind, the dragon said.
I won’t, Papa replied. How was his voice coming from behind her when he was so far in front of her?
The dragon closed its mouth and crouched. The foot she’d decided was injured touched the ground and jerked up. Its eyes widened, and it hissed. Then it jumped straight up, higher than Papa’s head. She braced for it to crash onto the flagstones, but instead it beat its wings and rose into the air, buffeting her with a wave of grit and sand. It forced its way upwards like a man rowing a dinghy against the tide, seemingly climbing by sheer determination.
Papa watched the dragon as it began to spiral, the way gulls sometimes did when gaining height. From a distance it looked more graceful than it had on the ground.
Tiwan ran back to the archives before Papa could find out she’d been spying on him. Revath was still in the corridor where Papa had told them to wait, sitting against the wall, legs drawn up, arms around his shins. At the sound of her footsteps, he looked up and dragged a hand across his face.
“You are going to be in so much trouble,” he whispered as she sat next to him.
“Tiwan? Revath? You can come out now.” Papa’s voice came from the entrance. They stood up, and Tiwan ran to him. He lifted her off her feet in a tight hug, but didn’t growl like a bear the way he usually did. He groaned as he set her down. “I think you’re getting a bit too big for that, dear heart.”
She stared at the floor. Had he known she’d been watching?
“Revath, has your father gone fishing today?” Papa asked.
“No Sir.”
“Then run down to the village and ask him to come here.” After a moment, he added, “Tell him Athera came back.”
Revath’s Papa, Serl, came running to the monastery as soon as Revath told him about the dragon’s visit. Tiwan hoped to eavesdrop on his conversation with Papa, but the two men locked themselves in one of the cells that the monks used to live in, back when the monastery actually was a monastery, instead of a slowly crumbling ruin.
The cell they chose was at the end of a long corridor, so she couldn’t listen at the door for fear of being seen when they came out. She sat outside the window, but it was too high for her to hear much. She did pick out one thing Papa said, though it didn’t make any sense—“A chance to say some proper goodbyes.”
Several times over the next few days, Tiwan asked Papa about what had happened, but he gave her vague answers or none at all. She tried to find books about dragons in the archives, but when she checked the catalogue, most of the interesting-looking ones had lines through them, which meant they weren’t there any more. She’d heard something about having to sell a lot of the books to pay debts. The ones that were still there were written in languages Tiwan couldn’t read. Why did people need so many ways of saying the same thing?
About a week after the dragon came, Tiwan went to visit Revath, who lived in the village. It was too hot for games, so they went to the harbour to fish. They never caught anything, but the sea breeze was pleasant, and if they sat on the westernmost jetty, the one that was hardly ever used, they wouldn’t get told off for being in anybody’s way.
“What I don’t understand,” Revath said, once their hooks were dangling in the water, “is why the dragon was so friendly with your Papa. Didn’t he kill a dragon that was threatening the village?”
“Don’t be such a goose,” Tiwan replied. It would be hard to imagine a person less like a dragonslayer than Papa. “He persuaded a dragon to help him sink some pirate ships that were attacking the village. This dragon was friendly because it knows him. It wants something from him, and he doesn’t want to hand it over.”
“I’d say it’s obvious what the dragon wants,” said a voice behind her, “and Iko would be happy to give it.”
Heart in her mouth, Tiwan scrambled to her feet. Blocking their way off the jetty were Makhan and three of his friends. They were the meanest of the bullies, twice as big as Revath and four times as ugly, but also the most slow-witted. Papa had said they always went around together because they had only one brain between them. They were the easiest to outrun—at least when they hadn’t managed to corner their targets.
“We’re not in anybody’s way here,” said Revath, his voice shaking. “Just leave us alone.”
“You’re in our way,” Makhan replied. “We thought we’d come down to the jetty and admire the view, and what do we find but a couple of dragonspawn cluttering up the place?”
That was a change from his usual taunts, but it made little sense. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tiwan said. “I bet you’ve never even seen a dragon. I have. It was bigger than—than—than the biggest boat that ever docked here, and it smelled even worse than you.”
Makhan scowled. “You’re the one who doesn’t know what she’s talking about. I said dragonspawn, not dragons.” He gave a big shrug and glanced at his friends on either side of him. They sniggered, but Tiwan could tell they weren’t sure what was supposed to be funny. “Come on—what else would your fathers have been doing all that time they were away?”
This was the longest conversation she’d ever had with Makhan. She didn’t understand what he was saying, but she knew from his tone that he meant to hurt her. Her fist tightened around the fishing rod.
“You didn’t think Kimona and Nenaxi were really your mothers, did you? Not when your fathers prefer dragons to women.”
Tiwan took a pace towards the bullies. “Don’t you dare say anything about my Mama and Papa!”
Makhan grinned. “I’ll say whatever I want about them.”
“You take that back!”
He leaned forward. “Make me.”
Tiwan uttered the very bad word Papa had used.
Makhan’s eyes widened. He started to laugh.
Tiwan swung the fishing rod sideways. Its line wrapped around Makhan’s legs. He stopped laughing and glanced down.
Makhan flailed for Tiwan. Before he could touch her, she punched his jaw. He went down like an anchor. She jumped on him, kicking, punching, biting—hurting him any way she could.
It took three grown-ups to pull her off him.
They took her to Revath’s parents, who treated the worst of her cuts and bruises, and then carried her up the hill to the monastery. Through her tears, she was dimly aware of a crowd gathering along the streets to watch. At the monastery, Mama hurried her to the infirmary and fussed over her. The grown-ups stayed in the main courtyard with Papa. Mama sent her to bed, ignoring her protests that she felt fine and it was only afternoon.
Makhan’s taunts rang in her mind. She imagined herself punching him, but he wouldn’t shut up. With every punch, her fists hurt more. His voice grew louder and deeper. His skin became dark and bumpy. His jaw lengthened and his forehead receded. She kept punching him, even though he laughed at how she could barely lift her arms. A gust of wind knocked her to her back. He loomed over her, blocking out the sky, and lifted his foot to crush her. It was only when she saw the claws on the end of it that she realised she’d been fighting a dragon.
The sound of a door closing made her look up. She lay in her bed, the sheets tangled round her. A thin strip of red light from the window told her she’d been sleeping for a few hours. Papa sat on the end of the bed. Should she pretend she was still asleep?
“So,” Papa said. “Do you want to tell me what happened at the jetty this morning?”
“No.” She turned her face to the wall.
“This is no time to be literal-minded. Tell me what happened.”
Still facing the wall, she said, “Revath and me went fishing.”
He breathed in sharply, as if he was about to say, You mean “Revath and I,” but instead asked, “Did you do anything else?”
“No.” She wished he’d go away.
“Then why are your face and arms covered in bruises?”
“Must’ve fallen over somewhere.” Her eyelids quivered, telling her she was going to cry, but she couldn’t do it in front of Papa.
“And where did you fall over?”
“Don’t know.”
Papa sighed. “Credit me with a little intelligence, please, Tiwan.” She tensed. Beneath the calm voice, he must be really angry with her. He hardly ever called her by her name. “The grown-ups who brought you home said you’d been in a fight.”
“He started it.”
“Who?”
“Makhan.”
“That’ll be why his father was here a while ago, demanding that I let him punish you.”
She sat up, heart pounding. “No—please. I’ll do anything—extra chores—sweep the whole courtyard—anything!”
Papa might’ve smiled at that, though it was hard to tell in the dusk. “I won’t let him anywhere near you. And your Mama would skin me if I did. He’s a bully and a coward, just like his son. And as the sailors say, if stories were fishes, he’d feed the whole of Heon. But you must’ve noticed most of the grown-ups are afraid to go near the monastery. So he must’ve had a good reason for coming up here.”
Her fist clenched in the sheet. Her knuckles ached.
“Well?”
She shut her eyes tight to hold back the tears. “He said Mama wasn’t my real Mama!”
She felt Papa shift along the mattress, and then his arms enclosed her, rocking her back and forth. “Hush, dear heart, hush.”
Tears burned her cheeks and splashed onto her forearm. “He said—he said—m-my real Mama was a d-dragon.”
Papa shook his head. “I shouldn’t be surprised that ridiculous rumour resurfaced after Athera visited. But anyone who sees the two of you side by side can tell straightaway that you’re her daughter. So did you hit him?”
She sniffed and nodded.
“Why did you get into a fight instead of running away?”
“Revath and me—Revath and I—were on the end of the jetty. They’d have caught us if we tried to run past.”
“How many times did you hit him?”
“Don’t know.”
She felt his muscles stiffen. “I’ve warned you about lying.”
“I’m not lying. I jumped on top of him and I punched him until the grown-ups came.”
“How did you manage that? He’s bigger and stronger than you—and what about the other boys he always goes around with?”
“I whipped him with the fishing rod. The line wrapped round his legs, so he couldn’t move. I hit him on the jaw, and he fell over.”
“And why didn’t you run away then?”
“I… I was angry with him.”
“For what he said about Mama?”
She nodded. “And for following us onto the jetty. He said they wanted to look at the sea.”
Papa made a noise that might’ve been a snigger.
She leaned against Papa’s upper arm. “I just wanted him to leave us alone.”
Papa eased his arm around her, and she rested her head against the scratchy linen of his shirt. She closed her eyes and let herself be moved by his chest as he breathed.
“I’m afraid,” he said after a moment, “there are rather a lot of people in this world who enjoy depriving other people of things they want.” After another moment, he added, “And not just in this world.”
For a while, she listened to the faint, distant thud of his heartbeat. Then he withdrew his arm and stood up. “As I’ve said, Makhan’s father is a habitual liar, so I don’t know if I can believe anything he said about the fight. But he told me you cracked one of the planks under Makhan, gave him two black eyes, broke his nose, and knocked out a tooth.”
Her mouth hung open. If that didn’t make him leave her alone, nothing would.
“Now, your Mama and I haven’t decided whether to punish you, or how.”
“Why do I need to be punished? He started it.”
Papa folded his arms, then stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I’ve told you the best way to deal with a bully is to stand up to him, but it sounds as though what you did went a long way beyond that.”
“His Papa’s lying. You said so yourself.”
“I said he might be lying. It’s nearly your bedtime, so before you go to sleep, I want you to think about what you did, and whether it was really the best way to deal with the situation.” He turned to leave.
“What about supper?”
Hand on the doorknob, he paused. “You’ll go without tonight.”
“That’s not fair!”
“Consider it your punishment for lying about being in a fight.”
When Papa’s footsteps in the corridor had faded, Tiwan lay down and put the pillow over her head so no one would hear her crying. She fell asleep to more dreams of bullying dragons who didn’t know when they were beaten.
In the morning, she went to the kitchen, where she found Mama and Papa at breakfast. Like most rooms in the monastery, it was far too big for the three of them. Once, Papa had told her, a dozen cooks prepared meals for hundreds of monks, their teachers and “assorted hangers-on” as he put it. Now, the place felt like a giant rattle, with Mama, Papa and her as the peas.
Unsure whether she should say anything, Tiwan ate in silence, struggling to force food past a lump in her throat. She’d never had to wait this long to find out her punishment before.
Papa pushed his bowl away and waited for Tiwan to finish hers. As she started to gather the bowls and spoons to wash them, he said, “The Village Council have asked me to appear before them to explain what happened with Makhan yesterday. I don’t know how long this will take, so don’t wait for me if I’m not back for lunch.”
“Is all this really necessary, Iko?” Mama said, standing.
“It is if the Council says it is.”
“I don’t understand why they’re bothered about it. It was only a fight between two children.”
With a glance at Tiwan, he replied, “Not just any two children.”
Papa didn’t return for lunch, nor for dinner. Tiwan spent most of the day sitting in her room, staring at the walls or the floor. In the afternoon, she climbed the watchtower next to the monastery’s main gate, but came down when there was no sign of him after an hour. As the sun dropped below the monastery wall, Mama told her to go to bed. She’d just snuggled under the blanket when a door banged. She ran to the kitchen.
Mama and Papa stood next to the table, their arms around one another.
“Go back to bed, dear heart,” Mama whispered. She sounded as though she’d been crying.
Papa let go of her. “No, she may as well hear it now.”
Sniffing, Mama nodded.
Papa told everyone to sit down. “The reason I’m so late is that I spent almost the whole day trying to convince them to change their minds. Everybody agreed about what had happened, in all the important details. The debate was over what to do about it.” He leaned over and placed his hand on Tiwan’s. “I’m sorry, dear heart. You’re not allowed to go into the village any more.”
“No!” She banged her fist on the table. “That’s not fair!”
Mama scowled. “Tiwan—”
“Makhan started it! I only wanted him to leave me alone!”
“You’re right, it’s not fair,” said Papa. “I’ll give it a few days and try to convince them to change their minds, but for now, we have to do as they say.”
“Why?” She jumped to her feet, knocking the chair over. “You can talk to dragons! Summon one and tell it to eat them!”
Papa gawked at her. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t.”
“I hate you!” Tears choked her voice.
“That’s enough, Tiwan,” Mama said. “Go to your room.”
She shook, torn between hitting something and falling to the floor in a sobbing heap.
“Don’t make us carry you there,” said Mama. “Do as you’re told.”
Wailing, she turned and ran. She spent most of the next day in her room, crying or punching her pillow. Shortly after sunset, as she was dozing off, she had the sensation of falling into light. She jerked upright, surprised and relieved to find herself sitting in bed.
Iko, said the dragon. I will come tomorrow night.
Why did it need to tell Papa that? It was already here. She got out of bed and crept to the window, keeping her head low.
Meet me on Ansrad Hill.
Tiwan peered out of the window, which looked mainly onto the garden. No sign of the dragon. She sniffed the air. No smell of it, either. The moon hung just above the parapet of the monastery’s wall, casting deep shadows over large parts of the scene, but none of these seemed big enough to hide the dragon.
Iko? Can you hear me?
He could hardly have slept through such a racket.
I will leave now. You know what will happen if you are not on the hilltop at the appointed time.
Even without its words, she knew the dragon was gone, as if a lantern had been extinguished behind her. She sat on the bed, meaning to hide under the blanket, but the more she thought about what the dragon had said, the more it seemed to be threatening Papa. She had to warn him. She opened her bedroom door to see him already standing in the corridor.
“Papa?”
“I guess you heard the dragon too.”
She nodded. “Why did it come here if it wants you to go to the hill?”
He crouched, bringing his head level with hers. In the moonlight, his face was as pale as a fish. “I don’t think he was here,” Papa replied. “Dragons’ voices can carry a long way.”
“Revath said he couldn’t hear it—him—from the courtyard the other day.”
“Dragons don’t have voices like people do. They speak with their minds, so you hear their thoughts. But only a few people can hear them. You must’ve inherited the ability from me.”
“If I can hear the dragon’s thoughts, does that mean he can hear mine?”
“Only if you want him to,” Papa said with a smile.
“I heard your thoughts when the dragon was in the courtyard,” she said.
“Interesting.” He gazed at her, frowning in concentration. The frown grew stronger, and she giggled.
“Did you hear me?” he asked.
“You didn’t say anything.” At least, she thought he hadn’t.
“I wondered if you’d be able to hear my thoughts. But I guess we need a dragon to mediate the exchange.”
Tiwan wasn’t sure what that meant, so she asked, “Are you going to meet him?”
He glanced at the half-open door of his and Mama’s bedroom, opposite Tiwan’s, and lowered his voice. “If your Mama will let me.”
“What does he want?”
Papa laid a hand on her shoulder and gazed straight into her eyes. “I don’t want you to worry about that.”
“What will he do if you don’t go?”
His eyes flicked down for a moment. “Just—go back to sleep. Please.”
She went back to bed, but didn’t sleep much.
The following evening, Tiwan and Mama waved farewell to Papa as he set out for Ansrad Hill. It lay about two miles from the monastery, and was the highest point on the island. Probably that was why the dragon had chosen it.
Tiwan went to bed at her usual time, but couldn’t sleep. She crept out of her room, across the main courtyard, and climbed the watchtower. A thin band of sunlight remained on the western horizon. She stared at Ansrad Hill, willing the dragon to appear. In ones and twos, the stars came out. Somewhere behind her, the moon rose. She shivered, wishing she’d thought to bring her blanket.
“Tiwan?” Mama stood in the courtyard, holding a candle. “Tiwan, where are you?”
Mama must’ve heard her going out. In the dark, it would be easy to slip past her, get back into bed, and pretend she’d been there the whole time.
“Tiwan?” She sounded frightened. And she must’ve come out here because she’d noticed Tiwan wasn’t in bed.
“Up here. In the tower.”
“What are you doing up there?”
“Watching for the dragon.”
Mama said, “Stay there,” and hurried towards the tower. The glow of the candle disappeared, then grew brighter as Mama came up the stairs. Tiwan took Mama’s free hand in hers.
“Papa said not to worry,” Tiwan said.
“How can we not worry?” Mama replied. “I mean, he knows more about dragons than anyone else, and he can talk to them, but that thing’s bigger than a whale. It’s got teeth longer than a man’s hand.”
“If the dragon wanted to hurt Papa…” Tiwan paused, not wanting to think about Papa being hurt, and also not wanting to admit she’d seen the dragon when he came to the monastery.
“He could’ve done it when he landed in the courtyard the other day.” Mama finished Tiwan’s sentence for her. She was silent for a while longer. “I should be grateful to the dragons for one thing, at least. Well, two things.”
“What are those?”
“Papa and you.”
“Why’s that?” Tiwan asked.
“When Papa and Serl went with the dragons to fight the pirates—you know that’s why they got involved with the dragons originally, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, the pirates stopped raiding, but Papa and Serl didn’t come back.”
“What? Then… how…?”
“And then one day, years and years later, they did come back. But they weren’t any older than when they left. I don’t really understand why. All I know is, nine—no, ten years ago now, my family were starting to ask me when I was going to get married, and I didn’t want to answer them. Then one market day, I saw Sister Drubath. That was unusual in itself, because she lived in the monastery—‘looking after the stones,’ as she put it. We hardly ever saw her in the village. But she had these two young men with her—”
“Serl and Papa?” Tiwan interrupted.
“That’s right. She obviously knew them, but nobody recognised them. I thought they must’ve come from a long way off, because they were staring at everything as if they’d never seen anything like it. When they came near to me, your Papa happened to glance in my direction. Our eyes met, and he smiled, and my heart melted.”
Frowning, Tiwan looked up at Mama. She was mostly in shadow, the candle tracing the outline of her face and chest.
“Did it hurt?”
“What?” Mama said, and then laughed. “No, that just means you’ve met the person you’re going to marry.”
“So did you get married that day?”
Mama laughed again. “It took a lot longer than that to convince him that I was the person he was going to marry.”
“Oh.” Tiwan didn’t quite understand how Mama knew she was going to marry Papa, but Papa didn’t know he was going to marry Mama.
“So when we met, he was twenty-four and I was twenty-two. But he’d been gone for thirty-two years, so I wasn’t even born until ten years after he left. If he’d been here the whole time, he would’ve been fifty-six when I’d started looking for a husband.”
Tiwan’s eyes widened. She didn’t think she knew anyone that old.
“And he would probably have married someone else long ago, and I would’ve eventually married someone my parents approved of. And that would mean you wouldn’t be here, dear heart.”
“Then where would I be?”
Mama’s grip on Tiwan’s hand tightened. “There’s something over the hill.”
Tiwan squinted, not seeing anything. She let go of Mama’s hand and cupped her hands around her eyes to shut out the light from the candle. She picked out something darker than the sky, zigzagging over the hill, slowly descending. Eventually, it touched the top of the hill and stopped moving.
“I can’t hear him speaking,” Tiwan said after a minute. “Can you?”
“I can’t hear dragons’ voices anyway,” Mama replied. “Well—I don’t know for sure, I’ve never met one.”
“Papa said it was a rare talent.”
“Yes. He said the first dragon he met seemed surprised he could do it.”
Tiwan shivered again, and snuggled up to Mama, who laid a hand on her head. “How long will Papa be talking to the dragon?”
“I don’t know, dear heart. I suppose it depends how much the dragon has to say.”
After a while, Mama blew out the candle, to be sure of having enough left to light their way back to bed. Below in the village, the lights had all gone out, except for the Net and Pole, a tavern on the waterfront. Singing and cheering meant one of the boats had had a good catch today.
“The dragon’s leaving,” Mama whispered.
Tiwan turned to see a shape detach itself from the top of Ansrad Hill. He battled for height in a widening spiral, then vanished in a point of light, brighter than the stars.
“Did you see that?” Tiwan said.
“The dragon must’ve returned to his own world,” Mama replied.
“Where’s that?”
“I don’t know, dear heart.” Mama relit the candle. “We should go back to bed.”
She led the way down the stairs and across the courtyard, then tucked Tiwan into bed and kissed her goodnight. Against her expectations, she fell asleep quickly.
The following morning, Tiwan was the first in the kitchen. Mama and Papa came in soon afterwards, yawning. Tiwan hurried over to hug them.
“What did the dragon say, Papa?”
Papa glanced at Mama, who gave a wary nod. “There are a couple of things you need to know before you’ll really understand what the dragon said. The first thing is that I’ll be teaching you to read the languages of the documents in the archives, starting with Middle Nuhysean.”
She stared at him, wondering if he was joking. “That’ll take years!”
“Not for a bright girl like you.”
She pouted. “Can’t you just tell me what he said, and I’ll tell you what I don’t understand?”
Papa shook his head. “The other thing you need to know is that Serl will be teaching you how to swim.”
“…and that, children, is everything you need to know about the geography of Perakhandra.” Papa looked over the little knot of bored faces. “Any questions?”
Tiwan glanced at her classmates to see whether she needed to wait her turn. They all fidgeted to be outside, playing or gossiping. Slowly, she raised a hand.
“Yes, Tiwan?” said Papa.
“So, P-Teacher, when are we going exploring Perakhandra?”
Behind her, someone sniggered.
“I’m sorry?” Papa stared at her, daring her to disobey him further.
A voice at the back of her mind told her to retreat now, while she still could. She ignored it. “Why are we learning about the mountains and forests and rivers of Perakhandra, unless we’re planning to go there?”
Papa had his hands behind his back, but his arms tensed in a way that told her he’d clenched his fists. “Stay behind. Everybody else—I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Her classmates filed out. One or two smirked as they passed her. Once their chatter had faded from hearing, Papa beckoned her to the front of the room.
“I thought I’d made it clear that I don’t need you undermining my authority.”
“Maybe if your lessons weren’t so boring or pointless, I wouldn’t feel the need to undermine it.”
Papa scowled, then his expression softened. “This is what the villagers expect education to be.”
“So you admit the lessons are pointless?”
“I’m not denying it. But we need the money.”
“So I don’t have to come to the lessons?” Tiwan asked, trying not to let her hopes rise.
Papa gave her a wry smile. “It’s not much of a recommendation for a school if the teacher’s own daughter doesn’t study there, is it?”
Tiwan’s shoulders sagged. “How much money have we got so far?”
“About half what we need. The Village Council keeps finding ways to take chunks of it in tax.”
Tiwan didn’t really understand how this “tax” thing worked or what it was for. When she’d first heard of it, she’d said it sounded like bullies stealing from those weaker than themselves. Papa had said it was a lot like that, except they were supposed to share it with everyone else afterwards.
“Look, dear heart.” Papa ran a hand through his hair. “You can complain to me, or Mama, or Serl or Nenaxi, or even Revath. Just not in front of your classmates.” With a hopeful smile, he added, “Please? We need them to think we’re on the same side. We’ll be taking a break for the summer soon anyway. In the autumn, I’ll try to sneak in some more interesting stuff when nobody’s looking.”
She nodded. “Can I go for my swim now?”
“Go on then.”
She scampered off almost before the words had left his mouth.
“Don’t cut through the village!” he called after her. She barely heard him.
She darted out of the main gate and let the fall of ground carry her down the hill. The breeze cooled her, and she held her arms out like a dragon’s wings, tilting into the turns of the road.
Would the dragon ever come back? It had been nearly three years now since the night he came to Ansrad Hill, and she still didn’t know what he’d said to Papa—or what Papa really needed the money from the school for. When the dragon had come to the monastery, he’d said he wanted the services of a rider. From the documents she’d read in the archives, she’d learned that the distinguishing feature of a rider, as the dragons used the term, wasn’t that he rode, but that he could speak to dragons. What could such a person do for the dragons that they couldn’t do for themselves?
The bleating of a goat pulled her out of her thoughts. She’d wandered into an alley between two rows of houses. The goat was tied to a pole in someone’s garden, just visible through a gap in the fence.
She looked both ways along the alley. She’d wandered far enough into the village that it would be quicker to carry on and leave by the road to Samdurath than to turn back and go round. The ban on her entering the village had been lifted a few weeks after she thrashed Makhan, but rumours persisted that there was something unnatural about her.
She saw perhaps a dozen people on the way out of the village. A few gave her curious looks, but none said anything or made any superstitious gestures. Perhaps the children who came to the school had told their parents that she didn’t have scales or horns or wings after all.
Half a mile out of the village, she turned off to a narrow dusty track, now almost hidden by the summer’s growth. It headed towards the coast, threading its way through tall grass and spiky bushes. The ground rose on either side, turning the track into a slot, narrow enough that she could stand with her back against one wall and touch the other. The walls were easily twice the height of a house, so nobody inland would see her coming to or going from the cove. Serl claimed the slot had been used as a smugglers’ trail in the days when the Lenis Islands were a Nuhysean protectorate, but Papa had pointed out that the cove was too close to the village for smugglers to want to risk landing there. Either way, the slot provided the only easy access by land to this beach, so Tiwan’s swim wasn’t likely to be disturbed.
She emerged onto the beach, squinting as the sun reflected off the water. The pale coarse sand crunched under her bare feet. She slipped off her clothes and laid them on top of a large flat rock just above the tide line, then weighted them with a smaller rock.
The tide was on its way out, so Tiwan waded to where the water came up to her chest, then lifted her feet off the bottom and swam a few yards away from the shore. The water was pleasantly cool, and she allowed herself to float in it for a minute or two before swimming parallel to the shoreline. She headed for the point where the rocks met the water, reaching it easily. She touched a sun-dried part of the stone and turned round to swim to the other side of the bay.
Serl had said she should be able to swim a mile in calm water without difficulty, which conveniently was ten times the distance between the ends of the cove. She decided to try for twelve today, after which she’d lie on the rocks to warm up. Occasionally her foot touched the sand, and whenever that happened, she moved a couple of yards further out. Serl had said there was no point swimming in water shallow enough to stand in, though he’d let her do it for safety while he was teaching her.
“Hey, dragonspawn!” A voice came from the shore.
She turned her head but, not seeing the speaker, kept swimming.
“I’m talking to you, dragonspawn!”
She stopped, treading water. Makhan stood near the slot in the cliffs, his henchmen with him. He’d acquired another one since she’d last encountered him, a pale scrawny thing who was probably the butt of their jokes when no one more suitable was around.
“We don’t need you here, so you can just fly back to whatever mountain you came from!”
How had they known where to find her? They must have seen her in the village and followed her here. One of them punched the upper arm of the boy next to him, then pointed to her and giggled. The boy he’d punched joined in late with the giggling, as if he hadn’t noticed her until now.
“I haven’t finished my swim,” she said, “so if you want me to leave, you’ll have to come and get me out of the water.” Most of the villagers couldn’t swim, and most who could were weaker than her.
Makhan stared at her, seemingly at a loss as to what to do. She resumed swimming. She knew it was unwise to turn her back on them, but they couldn’t hurt her for now. She hoped they’d get bored and leave.
Something splashed into the water ahead of her. She turned to see one of the henchmen drawing his hand back. She ducked under the water as he threw the stone. It landed behind her. A couple more stones splashed in front of her, trailing clouds of bubbles. She swam a few strokes away from the beach, and stayed below the waves until her lungs started to hurt.
The bullies had gathered around the rock where she’d left her clothes, giggling. One of them picked up her skirt and held it against the waist of the scrawny boy.
“Leave those alone!” she shouted.
“Come and make us,” replied the one holding her skirt.
She clenched her jaw. They wouldn’t dare steal her clothes. Would they?
Makhan said, “I’ve got a better idea.” He pointed to the rock, and the boy replaced her skirt. He grabbed something from the hand of one of the other boys—Nikhulu, Tiwan thought his name was. Nikhulu started to protest, but a glare from Makhan silenced him. Makhan tilted his hand over Tiwan’s clothes, and a dark liquid poured from the thing he was holding. When it was empty, he set it on top of the pile. Now she saw it was a glazed clay bottle.
“You are in so much trouble when you get home, dragonspawn,” Makhan said.
“You think I’ve never come home with my clothes wet?” she called back.
“You ever come home smelling of beer?”
“And do you not think I could just wash it out?” She gestured to the waves.
Nikhulu glared at Makhan. “Idiot. Now it’s wasted.”
Makhan grabbed the bottle and brandished it at Nikhulu like a club. Nikhulu stepped back, hands raised. “We’ll make her wear them before she has a chance to wash them,” Makhan said. “Go get her.”
“Me?” said Nikhulu.
“Who else was I pointing at?”
Nikhulu shouted, “Come out here, you little worm!”
Tiwan made a gesture that Serl had told her was very rude.
Nikhulu raced to the water’s edge, then stopped and stripped to his underwear, dropping his clothes where he stood. Tiwan smirked. He was going to have a lot of sand in his clothes when he put them back on. He waded into the sea.
“You do know the water’s over your head where I am?” Tiwan said.
“I can swim, dragonspawn,” he growled. “Just not until I have to.” The water was already up to his chest.
Tiwan leaned back and kicked a few more yards away from the shore. Nikhulu came a bit further, up to his neck, and panic crossed his face. His feet must’ve left the bottom for a moment. She swam a bit further. He took a deep breath, squeezed his eyes shut, and started paddling towards her, his hands slamming into the water as though trying to beat it into submission.
She couldn’t help herself. She laughed. “You call that swimming? Look, this is how it’s done, you stupid boy.” She turned to face out to sea and swam a dozen more effortless yards. She glanced over her shoulder. Nikhulu had scarcely moved. She laughed. “What are you waiting for? Has a squid got hold of your feet?”
“You come out here right now, dragonspawn,” said Makhan, “or next time I see you, I’ll give you a hiding you’ll never forget!”
Tiwan held her hands out of the water and shook them. “Ooh, I’m so scared of the big ugly bully who can’t swim.” Nikhulu was no closer to her, but for good measure, she kicked a few more strokes away from him.
She felt herself drifting sideways. That meant she was nearing a fast current. She ought to head towards the shore. Even better—the bullies would think she was taunting them. She swung her legs under her to change direction. Before she could make her first stroke, the current grabbed her.
Her head was pulled under the water before she had a chance to take a breath. Surrounded by bubbles, she tumbled over and over until she feared she’d be sick. She fought for the surface.
Something dark loomed ahead of her. She tried to dodge, but her shoulder slammed into it, sending her spinning. Pain flared in her arm as it twisted. Lungs burning, she kicked upwards. Her arm wouldn’t move how she thought it should. Her kicks became weaker. She couldn’t tell how far away the surface was. She felt herself sinking. Her kicking stopped, and the world grew dark and silent.
Pain across Tiwan’s back and front woke her. She heard splashing. Brightness stabbed at her closed eyes. She wasn’t in the sea any more—water trickled off her arms and legs. She swayed from side to side, prompting a fluttering in her stomach. Unsure whether it was wise, she opened her eyes.
She hung in the air above the sea, quite close to the shore—she could see the sand beneath the water. The bullies must have found someone to rescue her. That was reassuring, in a way—they delighted in making her life miserable, but they didn’t hate her enough to want to let her drown. Though they’d doubtless remind her for years to come that she wasn’t as good a swimmer as she’d claimed. Stupid, careless girl. She’d known the current was there, and she’d swum straight into it.
Who had rescued her? He must be someone quite big, if she was this high in the air. She turned her head and glimpsed a thick, scaly leg lifting out of the water. Closer to her, more scales and a huge yellow eye. The dragon had come back, and was carrying her in his mouth.
This must be why Papa wouldn’t tell her what the dragon had said when he came to the hill all those years ago—he wanted to eat her! She tried to scream, but produced only a gurgling cough and a thin stream of watery vomit. The dragon had left one of her arms free, and she swung it wildly, unable to tell whether she hit anything.
The dragon lowered his head and opened his mouth. With his tongue, he pushed her onto the wet sand. She tried to stand, but her legs wouldn’t obey. She tried to crawl, but her injured arm started hurting again, and she collapsed on the ground.
Greetings, human Tiwan. The dragon’s voice reverberated in her head. My name is Olahin. I wish our first meeting had been in more pleasant circumstances, but Chaos always plots against Fate.
This was a different dragon from the one that had come to the monastery—he was dark green, not red. His voice sounded lighter than the red one’s, though still strong enough to flatten a house.
“Go away! Leave me alone!”
Are you attempting to communicate with me? I regret that dragons do not understand the human mode of speech.
Some feeling had returned to her legs. She tried to push herself up the beach, but succeeded only in digging a trough in the sand.
Can you hear me, human? Olahin tilted his head to one side, bringing that eye more directly to bear on her. The movement reminded her of a crow. He trudged out of the water to stand next to her, his feet leaving deep holes in the sand.
If you can hear me, give me a sign. Raise your—front leg, is that what you call it? Your arm.
Papa had said only a few people could hear dragons. Was it wise to admit she was one of them? Maybe that was why he wanted to eat her. But if he was going to do that, why grab her and then release her? And why make a show of speaking to her? Dragons didn’t have table manners, she recalled someone saying. Slowly, she raised her uninjured arm.
Good. Am I addressing Tiwan, child of Iko? Raise your arm if that is true.
Again, she raised her arm.
Good. It is difficult for me to explain how to speak in our mode, as I imagine it would be difficult for you to explain how to walk. I am told that for humans, it is similar to speaking with your mouth, but you think what you wish to say.
Papa had told her about how the dragons spoke. He’d said you had to want to be heard. Did he mean how you might want to eat a banana, something that might happen in the future or might not, or how you might want to turn your head, something that happened as soon as you thought about it? Only one way to find out…
Hello dragon? Olahin? Can you hear me?
No answer.
Can you hear me, dragon?
The dragon was silent for a few moments, then said, If you attempted to speak then, I did not hear you.
She closed her eyes and imagined herself eating the sweetest, ripest banana she’d ever had, almost sweet enough to sicken her. She pictured herself licking her lips and teeth to get every last speck of it. Then she imagined herself saying, “Hello, Olahin.”
Hello, Tiwan.
Tiwan opened her eyes. “You heard me!” Then, realising the dragon wouldn’t have understood that, she thought, You heard me.
Yes. Congratulations.
They gazed at one another, and Tiwan took a moment to study the dragon. His skin, though scaly, seemed smooth—more like a fish’s than a lizard’s. The teeth that protruded from his upper jaw looked sharp enough to cut metal. He must’ve held her very carefully—he hadn’t even scratched her. Two huge unblinking eyes regarded her, pale yellow with a vertical slit for the pupil. Behind his head, a little crest encircled his neck, like a stiff collar. His body and legs were more slender than the dragon she’d seen at the monastery. Perhaps he hadn’t eaten much lately? Or maybe he was younger than the red one.
Why did you pull me out of the water? Tiwan asked.
I understand that water is not a natural habitat for humans. You appeared to be in difficulty. If I was mistaken, I will gladly return you there.
No! I mean… yes, I was… in difficulty. You rescued me. Thank you.
Olahin didn’t answer for a moment. How much has your parent told you about his dealings with our kind?
I know about how Esald helped him to fight the pirates. Though it was mostly Serl who told me about that.
I mean, his dealings with us since you hatched.
Hatched? said Tiwan. Humans don’t come out of eggs. She was fairly sure they didn’t, anyway.
Since you began existing, then, said Olahin.
She considered her answer. She’d picked up hints, from things other people had told her, or from things she’d overheard, but Papa himself had said nothing. He hasn’t told me anything, she said.
Then it is not my place to say more, Olahin replied.
Her fist clenched in the sand. That’s not fair!
Fair? Olahin brought his head nearer to her. His warm breath on her skin made her shudder. Games may be fair. The world is not. How many years have you known, human Tiwan?
What do you mean?
How much time have you experienced since coming into existence?
How old am I?
Yes, if that is how humans express that concept.
Olahin withdrew, and Tiwan shivered. She looked around. He’d brought her back to the cove she’d started from. She ought to get dressed, assuming the bullies hadn’t stolen her clothes. She tried to stand, but her legs gave way before she’d got them under her, and she landed with a splat.
I’m ten years, two months and… four days, Tiwan said.
Olahin raised his head and extended his wings a little, making a sound like a leather bag being opened. It is as I feared. I have arrived too early. I would not have come, but to save you from the water. I must depart, and let you know more years.
Tiwan’s stomach twisted. She held out a hand, wincing as her weight fell on her injured arm. Don’t go!
I must. He turned away from her and scanned the area—looking for somewhere flat to take off from, like a big bird needed? The other one had just jumped into the sky.
When will you return? she asked.
Chaos and Fate permitting, it will not be before you have known sixteen years.
Sixteen? I’ll be married by then!
Olahin swung his head back towards her, making her flinch. Mated to another human for the purpose of producing offspring?
Um… yes. She hadn’t really thought about what it would entail.
That will not prevent you from performing the task that we require of you.
What is the task? said Tiwan.
Olahin walked further up the beach. His feet didn’t sink as deeply into the sand there. I have already said more than I should. Farewell, human Tiwan. May Fate resist Chaos in the battle for you.
“There it is!” a man shouted.
“Dagoreth, it’s huge!”
Tiwan looked up to see two dozen of the villagers standing on the cliffs at the top of the bay. Most held spears, while a few had bows. One carried a bundle that looked like a fishing net.
“It’s got the girl!” said someone. He pointed, and the others glanced in her direction.
A man in the middle of the line—one of the Councillors?—addressed her. “It’s Tiwan, isn’t it? Don’t be afraid, and don’t say anything. We’ll keep the dragon looking this way, and… and we’ll try to sneak a boat into the cove to rescue you.” He nodded to the man next to him, who ran off inland.
Tiwan began to say, “I’m all right,” and then Olahin’s thoughts barged into her mind.
What are they saying?
She screwed her eyes shut. They think I’m your prisoner.
Things would be much simpler if that were so.
They’re going to keep you distracted while they rescue me.
I should like to see them try. I was ordered not to harm any humans, but it does not do to appear weak when threatened. Tell them that I have no quarrel with them, and that I will leave peacefully if they do not attack.
Tiwan opened her eyes and waved to the Councillor. Startled, he motioned her to be silent. Two or three of the villagers tossed little stones, which landed in the sand about halfway between the cliffs and Olahin. Then the men started making clucking noises, as if trying to attract a hen or a goat.
Do your kind still think us dumb brutes? Olahin asked. Tell them not to test my patience.
Sir, don’t attack, Tiwan said. The Councillor gave no sign of having heard her. Sir?
I had thought most humans could not speak as dragons do, Olahin said.
Tiwan felt her face warm. She waved again. “Sir, it’s all right. The dragon won’t hurt anyone, as long as you leave him alone.”
The Councillor shushed her. He kept his gaze on the dragon as he replied, “It’s a big dangerous animal. I don’t mean to alarm you, child, but it could turn on you at any moment. We need to keep it looking this way until the boat arrives to rescue you, so you need to stay quiet.”
“He promised me he won’t hurt you,” Tiwan said. “But he doesn’t like those noises you’re making, and he doesn’t like you calling him an animal.”
The man next to the Councillor turned to him and said with a smirk, “I told you she was simple.” His voice sounded like a whisper, but was loud enough that he obviously meant her to hear it. Even so, the villagers stopped clucking.
“I can speak to him,” Tiwan said.
One of the villagers sniggered, then clapped a hand over his mouth.
“For Kashalbe’s sake, child,” said the Councillor, “will you just be quiet?”
“I’ll prove it. I’ll tell him to… to raise his leg.” To Olahin, she said, They don’t believe I can speak to you, so they don’t believe you won’t hurt them—or me. Raise your leg.
Olahin didn’t move.
Did you hear me? Raise your leg.
I heard you.
Then why don’t you raise your leg?
I am not your slave.
Tiwan frowned. I never said you were.
Then do not presume to give me orders.
I wasn’t… oh. Please raise your leg?
Olahin lifted his right front leg, held it for a moment, then lowered it.
“Magic!” said a voice that might’ve been Makhan’s. “That proves she’s dragonspawn!”
Four or five of the villagers threw their spears, and one loosed his bow. The spears fell short or went wide, but the arrow lodged in the side of Olahin’s crest.
“No!” Tiwan screamed.
“I didn’t say ‘attack,’” the Councillor growled.
Cover your ears, human, the dragon said.
She tried to obey, but her injured arm still wouldn’t move. The ear on that side was nearer the dragon, so she brought her other hand round her head.
Olahin roared. The ground shook, and Tiwan feared it would open up and swallow her. A cloud of sand rolled over her, blocking all sight. Then gusts of wind pummelled her from above. Wind didn’t do that, she thought, and then she realised the dragon was leaving. Distant shouts and screams reached her. The wind grew milder, then stopped.
When Tiwan could see again, the only sign that Olahin had been here was that all the sand on the beach had been sculpted into a shallow bowl, its centre where he’d been standing. Some sand had piled against her on the side that had been facing him. The villagers had fled.
The cliffs looked different—vertical strips of a darker colour had appeared. Had the dragon’s roar shaken some of the stone loose?
She stood, trembling, but relieved that her legs were still able to support her. Her arm flopped about, a dull ache in its upper part.
A straight wooden shaft protruded from the sand, a few feet from where Tiwan had lain. With a shock, she realised it was a spear. Their aim wasn’t that bad, surely. Had someone really thrown it at her? And if so, who?
Her clothes had been scattered over the top of the beach. She started towards it, then realised she was coated with sand from lying on the wet part of the beach. She turned to the sea… the sea that had nearly killed her.
I’ll just squat at the edge and wash myself, she thought. But she didn’t move.
Come on girl. Mama won’t be happy about the sand damaging your clothes. And you can hardly walk home naked. Humiliation piled on top of humiliation. She took a pace down the beach, and stopped.
The ground shook with a rhythmic thumping. Was Olahin still here? She looked around for the source of the disturbance.
Papa shot out from the gap in the cliffs, then staggered to a halt when he hit the sand. He leaned forward, hands on his thighs, gasping for breath.
“Tiwan,” he panted. “Are you all right?” His voice sounded muffled. That had to be an effect of the dragon’s roar. He held out a hand. She ran to him and threw her arms around him.
“Mazor and Kashalbe, what happened? I heard a dragon screaming and ran all the way here.”
Something inside her gave way, and she wept like a baby. Papa cradled her and rubbed her back, making no attempt to hush her. When her tears eventually stopped, she looked up at him, finding his eyes red and puffy too.
“Come on, dear heart,” he whispered. “Mama will be wondering where we are.”
Papa closed the school for a week while he and Mama nursed Tiwan back to health. Her arm had an impressive collection of bruises, and Mama insisted she rest it until they were healed. Papa quizzed Tiwan about every detail of what had happened at the cove, but was most interested in the fact that the dragon was green. That, he said, meant he was younger than any dragon Papa had dealt with before.
Of course, Papa refused to tell her what the dragons wanted with her, saying she was still too young to understand.
On the day the school reopened, no one came. The day after, one boy arrived, half-pushed, half-carried by his mother. The woman sympathised with Papa, but thought it hardly worth her son attending classes on his own.
Two days later, Papa retrieved a leather bag from beneath a loose flagstone in the Elangic section of the archives, and a small ivory box from behind a brick in the kitchen. Inside the bag and box were a huge variety of coins, mostly the Lenis Islands’ own, but a good number of Nuhysean and Perakhandran. Tiwan helped him and Mama to count them, sorting them into little piles—five hundred and seventy-three coins all told. There were also three red gems, the size of her little fingernail, and a gold bar the size of her thumb, stamped with writing she couldn’t read. This was much heavier than she expected.
“About a thousand svara, give or take,” said Papa, after he’d insisted on double-checking. “Not nearly enough, but I don’t see how we’re going to get any more.”
“Do you really have to do this, sweetness?” Mama asked.
Papa nodded.
“What are you doing, Papa?”
“Not me. We. There are some books that we need to look at to help the dragons.”
Help? Nobody had said anything about helping them. Though hardly anything had been said about them at all.
“The books used to be in the monastery’s archives,” Papa continued. “That’s how I know about them.”
“But they had to be sold to pay debts,” Tiwan said.
“Yes. A merchant called Govus bought them, among many others. He lives on Alithan.” Alithan was about a day’s sailing to the west, the next island but one from Nankaln, their home. “I called on him a couple of years before you were born, to see if I could buy back some of them. He laughed and sent me on my way.”
“Won’t he do the same now?” said Tiwan.
“He might. But we have to try.”
Preparations for the journey took a couple of days. Serl agreed to take them in his little fishing boat. Papa and Tiwan left the monastery before dawn, so as to reach Alithan during daylight. Mama came with them to see them off. When they reached the wharf, Serl was there already, along with someone Tiwan didn’t recognise at first—Revath. She hadn’t seen him for a month or two—he’d started helping Serl on his boat while she’d been busy with school. He’d grown taller and bulkier.
“You take care now, little one,” he told her, once everything was loaded onto the boat, and Serl was ready to cast off. His lip quivered, and she thought he might cry.
“We’ll only be gone two days,” Tiwan said. “Three at the most.”
“People have been wrecked on shorter journeys.”
“Aren’t you the cheerful one? My Papa says Serl’s the best sailor he knows.”
“I heard that,” Serl said from the boat.
Mama gave Papa and Tiwan a farewell hug. Revath hung back for a moment, then threw his arms around Tiwan. She surprised herself by returning the embrace.
Once they were out of the harbour and around the headland, a fresh breeze pushed them along the coast. They saw only one other boat from their village of Heon—it was still early, and most of the fishing grounds lay in the opposite direction.
Tiwan sat on the bench nearest the stern, staring at Nankaln as it slowly slid out of view. Ansrad Hill, the highest feature, was the last thing to disappear. She wondered if that was an omen. She was now further from home than she’d ever been before. It wasn’t that often she’d even been out of sight of the monastery. After a while, she noticed seabirds wheeling and diving above where the island had been. When she pointed this out, Serl said it was one way for a sailor to know land was nearby.
Gradually, the birds too dropped below the horizon. After that, nothing but sea and sky in every direction. The boat seemed suddenly very small and fragile—just wide enough for Serl to lie down on the middle bench, almost long enough for him and Papa to lie down along the keel if they took out the box in the middle. A sudden gust of wind or a big wave would tip everybody out, and they would sink forever and ever in the bottomless ocean.
Tiwan gripped the bench and swung round to face the bow, then lay curled up at the bottom of the boat.
“What’s wrong, dear heart?” Papa asked. “Are you cold?”
She didn’t answer. The boat stank of fish—the wind had prevented her from noticing until now. Half an inch of water had collected along the keel, probably spray that had come over the gunwales. That set her thinking—what if the boat sprang a leak? The hull was built of overlapping planks. Water could get in through the gaps between them. She put her hands over her face. One way or another, they were all doomed. Mama would lose her husband and daughter, Revath would lose his father, the dragons wouldn’t get what they wanted.
And what did they want? What could a human do for them that they couldn’t do for themselves? She was no nearer an answer to that question than when Athera had come to the monastery three years ago. More than that, perhaps, what had Athera said to Papa to convince him to agree? What would happen to him—to her—to Heon—if the dragons didn’t get what they wanted?
“Tiwan? Are you all right?” said Papa.
“Fine,” she mumbled.
“You don’t sound fine.”
She heard the men moving about, then Serl leaned over to put a bucket in front of her. He’d said it was for bailing water out of the boat. Did he share her fear of a leak?
“What are you doing?” Papa said.
“If she doesn’t need it now, she soon will,” Serl replied.
The boat’s rocking grew more noticeable. A queasiness formed in her stomach and forced its way towards her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut and batted it down. For a moment, all was calm, then a big wave slapped the boat, showering her with seawater. Her guts squirmed, and she sat up to grab the bucket. Serl laughed as her breakfast went into it.
“Told you,” he said.
Papa put his hands on her shoulders as a couple more mouthfuls came up. “Are you all right?”
“Will you stop asking me that?” She spat to try to rid her mouth of the sour taste.
“She’ll be fine now she’s got it out of her,” said Serl. “Tip the bucket over the side once you’ve finished.” He passed her a heavy leather bottle. She took a little water from this to clean her mouth and face, then emptied the bucket and rinsed it in the sea.
“That, my dear Tiwan,” said Serl, “is seasickness. About a third of people get it the first time they go to sea. Most of them are fine after that.”
True to his word, she wasn’t sick again. Shortly after midday, she noticed birds on the western horizon. An island came into view, bigger and craggier than Nankaln. She recalled from maps that its name was Pol Davoth, but knew little else about it. Papa’s geography lessons had skimmed over it. Or had she just not being paying attention? A few boats moved to and from a deep cut in the cliffs. Tiwan thought their boat would miss the island by a good distance, but Serl adjusted the sail and told Papa to nudge the rudder, and they turned ten or fifteen degrees to the south, dropping the harbour out of view.
When Tiwan asked about the change of course, Serl replied, “These aren’t the friendliest of people. Best to make it obvious that we don’t mean to visit.”
The rest of the journey was uneventful, and they reached Alithan with the sun still a hand’s breadth above the sea.
The town of Keshke, their destination, shimmered like gold in the sunset. The harbour alone was bigger than the whole of Heon. Inland, the town swept up a hill like a wave. One large building right at the top stood apart from the others. Tiwan wondered if that was where Govus lived.
“Catching flies?” Serl asked.
She grimaced and snapped her mouth shut.
“You’re right to be impressed,” Papa said. “This is the biggest settlement in the Lenis Islands. Though it’s mostly uninhabited now. It used to be the capital, back when we were a Nuhysean protectorate.” His eyes took on a faraway look. “It would really have been a sight then.”
“Never mind that,” Serl said. “Have you got a svar for the mooring fee?”
“What’s a mooring fee?” Tiwan asked.
“It’s so the harbour master doesn’t come along in the middle of the night and knock holes in the boat, or tow it out past the breakwater and set fire to it.”
Papa rummaged in his bag of coins. “Will you stop frightening her? This isn’t Asdanund. They’ll just impound the boat until we pay them to release it.” He held out a small silver coin. “Will that do?”
Serl accepted it and squinted at it. “Close enough.” He eased the boat into the harbour, past boats similar to theirs and ships bigger than any Tiwan had seen, to a long narrow jetty with a vessel occupying almost every mooring space. A man on the jetty helped them to secure their boat.
In a booth at the landward end of the jetty stood a tall burly woman, wearing a bright blue dress and a white hat shaped like half a barrel. “How many nights are you staying?” she asked.
“We’re not sure yet,” Serl replied, holding out the coin. “Probably one, maybe two.”
“You can pay for just tonight now, then. If you’re still moored at six o’clock tomorrow evening, that’s when you have to pay for the next night.” The woman dropped Serl’s coin into a pouch that hung over one shoulder and handed him a metal square from under the counter. “Welcome to Keshke. If you want to sleep at an inn, you’ll need to be quick—the gates into the town close at sunset.”
“Can you recommend one?” Serl asked.
“The Shoal of Herring is good—left then right after the gate.” She pointed to the gate in question.
The travellers thanked her and headed inland. The buildings looked worn around the edges, and faded, as if they’d been left out in the sun too long. They stopped outside a tall narrow building with a sign hanging over the door. The sign showed a large group of fish in blue-green water, so Tiwan guessed this was the inn, although the fish looked more like mackerel than herring.
Tiwan followed the men into the building, finding the gloomy interior pleasantly cool after the heat of the outside. The room held half-a-dozen tables with a few chairs around each, all unoccupied. A stocky man came through a door behind the bar. Serl haggled with him for a minute or two, then Papa handed over a couple of coins and received a key from beneath the bar.
They climbed three flights of stairs to reach their room, each narrower and creakier than the last. After Papa had unlocked the door, Serl had to shoulder-barge it to persuade it to open.
The room smelled musty, as though the shutters hadn’t been opened since winter, but it seemed clean. Two large beds stood against the right-hand wall, with a washstand between them. A window in the wall opposite the door looked onto the harbour.
There was a knock at the door. Serl opened it and accepted a tray of supper from a boy—fish pie and yams, with beer for Serl and Papa, and coconut milk for Tiwan. The food was cold, but Tiwan didn’t mind at this time of year.
When she’d finished eating, she lay on the bed nearer the window. It was huge—even bigger than Mama’s and Papa’s bed. She found she could lie on it sideways with her feet at the edge, and not be able to touch the other edge with her arms outstretched.
“So your Papa and me are sharing the other bed?” said Serl, smiling.
“Tiwan and I will share a bed,” Papa said.
“You might as well let her enjoy the novelty,” Serl replied. “When is she ever going to be sleeping at an inn again?”
Papa was silent, though his expression suggested he could’ve said a great deal.
Tiwan undressed. The adults’ presence made her self-conscious, even though they turned around while she got changed. She quickly snuggled under the blankets, imagining herself as a princess in a castle. The mattress was scratchy, even through the sheets, and the blankets were too warm after a while, so she lay on top of them. The cries of seabirds kept her awake, but they soon faded with the setting sun. The next thing she knew was Papa shaking her shoulder and offering her a beaker of coconut milk.
As they ate breakfast, Papa outlined today’s plan. “Govus is a merchant, one of the richest in the Lenis Islands. He bought a lot of documents from the monastery when it had to close, including one that, according to the catalogue, contains some knowledge we need to help the dragons.” He jingled the bag of coins. “I intend to buy it back from him. He probably won’t see us without an appointment, but if he does, let me do the talking.”
“I’m the better haggler,” said Serl.
“Over crates of fish, maybe,” Papa replied. “Not over books. Besides, Govus is a scholar of sorts. He values learning. If the money isn’t enough, I’m hoping, after Olahin’s visit the other day, we’ll be able to tell him something about them he doesn’t already know.” To Tiwan, he said, “If he asks you about Olahin, I want you to answer exactly the question he asks—don’t volunteer anything. Don’t speak unless he addresses you directly, or I give you permission. Look at him when you speak, and be sure to call him ‘Sir.’ If he asks you an open-ended question, like ‘Tell me about the dragon,’ ask him to be more specific.”
Tiwan nodded, pleasantly surprised at the prospect of being involved in grown-up conversations, but fearful of making a stupid mistake when called on to speak.
The serving boy brought tubs of hot water, soap and towels, and the three of them washed. On Papa’s insistence, Tiwan scrubbed herself much more thoroughly than usual, to the point where her face and hands were numb afterwards.
They left the inn and, after checking that Serl’s boat was still where they’d left it, followed the main street that led to the town’s inland gate. Tiwan had expected the town to be simply a bigger version of Heon, but it was full of types of buildings and people she’d never seen before. More than once, Papa had to remind her not to stare.
At the gate, a long queue of people, farm animals and carts waited to come into the town. A much shorter queue waited to go out. Three roads led away from the town—one each to the left and right, heading for the next settlement along the coast in either direction, and one going straight on that went up the hill. The travellers took the middle road.
After about half a mile, they caught up with an open cart being pulled by a pair of mules. Papa spoke to the driver, who said he was making a delivery to a house on the hill where Govus lived. He was willing to let them ride along in the back, in return for a few coins. Serl took Papa aside for a quiet discussion.
“Can we afford this?” Serl asked. “I thought we needed every svar for the books.”
“We do,” Papa replied, “but it’s hot, and the road is four or five miles, mostly uphill.”
Serl raised an eyebrow. “You going soft in your old age?”
“We need to give Govus—or his servants, more likely—the best possible impression of us,” said Papa. “We need to look like people who can afford what we want to buy from him. That means not turning up on his doorstep tired, dusty and sweaty from spending half the morning walking up from the town.”
Serl nodded, apparently conceding the point.
Tiwan had never ridden in a cart before—hardly anyone in Heon had one, and she wouldn’t have dared go near them. Even though she knew she was only about four feet off the ground, she felt much higher, perhaps because the wheels seemed to make every bump and dip in the road bigger. It was odd to be travelling backwards, not seeing things until she had already passed them. For a while, she lay on her back and amused herself watching the clouds move above her. What might it be like to ride a dragon, free to soar and swoop among their soft whiteness?
The cart dropped them at a junction near the top of the hill. They walked a few hundred yards along a paved road with the vegetation cut back on either side. Ahead stood a large building of white stone, almost painful to look at in the bright sun, surrounded by a high stone wall. Twenty yards before the wall was a ditch, too wide to jump across, that looked to go all the way around the building. A flat wooden bridge spanned it.
“This wasn’t here the last time I came,” Papa said as they crossed.
“I’d say the bridge would be easy to remove in a hurry,” Serl replied.
“In case of an attack by marauding Asdanunders?” said Papa.
“Or marauders from nearer to home,” Serl muttered.
The road passed through a gate in the wall, currently open. As the travellers approached the gate, a young man in a white uniform with a broad-brimmed hat came out of a little building just inside the wall.
“Welcome, Sirs,” the man said, dipping his head in a precise manner. “Whom are you here to see?”
“Govus,” Papa replied.
The man frowned, in the way Mama sometimes did when Tiwan tried to explain why she hadn’t done all her chores. “Do you have an appointment?” he asked, in a tone that indicated he knew they didn’t.
“We don’t, but if you tell him our names and why we’re here, I’m sure he’ll agree to see us.”
“And what are your names and reason for calling, Sir?”
“Iko and Serl and my daughter Tiwan, from Nankaln.” Papa licked his lips and looked past the man for a moment, then straight at him. “We’re here about dragons.”
“Dragons,” the man repeated, as though the word was one not uttered in polite society.
“Dragons,” said Papa.
The man stared at Papa. “He will not give you money.”
This seemed almost as surprising to Papa as mention of dragons had to the man.
Serl said, “That’s good, because we’re not going to ask him for any.”
Papa glared at Serl, but then smoothed his features and said, “We want to buy something from him.”
The man looked him up and down, doubtless wondering what his master owned that the travellers could possibly afford. “If you intend to waste his time, or snare him in some dishonest or disreputable scheme, I should advise you to leave now.”
“It’s none of those things,” Papa said. “Now, will you please tell him we’re here, and let us suffer the consequences if he doesn’t want to see us?”
The man sniffed and motioned to someone within the little building. A boy emerged, dressed in a similar uniform to the man, but without a hat. The man bent to whisper something in his ear, and the boy’s eyes widened. With a disbelieving glance at the travellers, he shot off in the direction of the large white building. He returned a few minutes later and nodded to the man.
“Please escort our guests to the house,” the man said, as though the words caused him pain.
The path went straight to the house, with a wide flat lawn on either side. Tiwan knew grass wasn’t naturally that short—or that green at this time of year. She wondered how many people had to work to keep it like that, and why their master made them spend so much time growing something they couldn’t eat.
The house was a broad structure, easily as big as the monastery. It was mostly two or three storeys, with square towers at the corners. Tiwan realised the reason that the house and the wall around it looked so bright was because they were all new. There were no rough edges where something had fallen off; no patches of a different colour or texture where someone had made a repair.
As the travellers came nearer, Tiwan noticed something else: the ground floor had no windows. What she’d thought were odd-shaped shutters were actually the shadows of pillars. These stood a few yards in front of the house, not supporting anything.
They came to the house’s front door, bigger than any Tiwan had seen. It stood open, revealing a wide entrance hall. A staircase at the back of this took up almost its whole width. A woman in a white uniform came from behind the door and bowed to them. “Follow me, please.”
The hall was blessedly cool after the heat of the journey. Their footsteps echoed on smooth flagstones. At either side of the hall were tall curving sculptures, about the size of a person. Tiwan couldn’t tell what they were meant to represent. As they passed each one, from the corner of her eye, it seemed to be moving, but when she turned to look, it was still.
The woman led them up the stairs, to a landing that ran left and right along the whole width of the front of the house. Opposite the staircase was a tall wooden box with a white circle at the top. The circle had numbers around the edge and two thin metal bars fastened in the middle that each pointed to a number. This, Tiwan realised, was a mechanical clock. Nobody in Heon had one, as far as she knew, but she’d seen pictures in books. A loud ticking came from it, as though a pair of scissors was cutting off each piece of time after it had gone.
“Please wait here.” The woman gestured to the first door on the left. “Refreshments will be brought shortly.” She bowed and went back downstairs.
The door led to a square room with windows that overlooked the lawn. A low round table in the middle was surrounded by chairs and short sofas. Next to the door hung a thin rope that disappeared into a hole in the ceiling. Tiwan had heard about such contrivances, which were connected to bells that summoned servants. A painting hung on one wall, boats coming and going at a dock.
“Notice she didn’t say the master would be with us shortly,” Serl muttered.
“He’s a very busy man,” Papa replied. “I had to wait most of the day the first time I came.” Lowering his voice, he added, “And I suggest you be careful what you say within these walls. There’s likely to be someone listening behind that painting.”
Tiwan looked at it again, startled, and had to resist an urge to lift it off its hooks to see if Papa was right.
They sat. A few minutes later, another servant entered, bearing a tray with a selection of little cakes and three glazed beakers—wine for the men, coconut milk for Tiwan. The milk had an unfamiliar sharp undertone. Seeing the face she made, Papa took the mug and tasted it.
“Ginger. Interesting.” He passed the mug back to her. “It’s safe,” he added.
“Oh.” She sipped at it, unsure whether she liked it, and unsure how long she’d have to make it last. They took a cake each. Tiwan took a big bite of hers, finding it chewier than she expected.
“What are those columns outside, Papa?” Tiwan asked once she’d swallowed.
“That’s an interesting question, dear heart. Govus told me they’re a reference to the Temple of Kashalbe at Untashekh. That doesn’t have a roof, which is supposed to symbolise all those who died in the Asdanundish war.”
“That wasn’t our war,” said Serl.
“No, but the islands were part of Nuhys then, so our people would’ve fought in it.”
Tiwan didn’t understand what he meant by the building referencing another, so she sipped her milk and nibbled her cake. She was about halfway through each when another servant came in and announced that Govus was ready to see them. She drained the beaker and wolfed down the cake before falling into line behind Papa and Serl.
The servant led them along the corridor, past windows that looked inwards to a central courtyard, and around a corner to the side of the house. They stopped outside a closed door, one of the few Tiwan had noticed here. The servant knocked, waited a moment, then opened it.
Beyond lay a room, perhaps twice the size of the one the travellers had just occupied. A balcony took up the whole width of the room, overlooking a garden. Beyond that was the wall surrounding the house, and beyond that, almost too small to see at the bottom of the hill, were the town and harbour.
On the balcony, looking out, an old man sat in a chair. That had to be Govus. A metal contraption on the side of the chair suspended something in front of his face. He raised a hand and the contraption folded down to the side of the chair, seemingly of its own accord—magic? The thing it held up to his face was a short tube with a piece of glass in each end—a telescope. Tiwan had seen the captains of some of the bigger ships using them.
“Your guests from Nankaln, Master,” the servant said, “Iko, Serl and Tiwan.”
Tiwan felt an odd thrill at hearing her name mentioned.
“Turn me around to face them, would you?” Govus said, his voice low and scratchy, “then bring the chairs over here.” The servant tilted the chair back and pivoted it through half a circle. Tiwan saw now that the rear legs had wheels to enable this. The servant carried three high-backed chairs from the edge of the room and put them a couple of yards from Govus. He smiled at the travellers and told the servant, “Bring me a top-up, and refreshments for the guests.”
The servant placed a small low table in the middle of the gathering, then picked up a half-full glass from the arm of Govus’s chair. He bowed and left the room.
“Please—be seated,” Govus said. The travellers did so. Tiwan’s toes would just brush the floor if she swung her legs, which she told herself she’d better not do. Govus squinted at them, making Tiwan wonder how much he could see through the telescope. “Who have we here? Iko I remember. You must be Serl, which means you must be Tiwan.”
“That’s correct, Sir,” said Papa.
“I trust you’re all well?”
“Yes, Sir. Thank you for asking. I trust you’re well too?”
Govus gave a sad smile. “You’ve caught me on a good day. A few years ago, a mare decided she didn’t like the way I was riding her, and shied at a jump. I fell off and rolled into the ditch that she should’ve gone over. The slope probably saved me from breaking my neck, though I sometimes wonder if I would’ve been better off like that. I can still walk, but most of the time I prefer not to.” He huffed out a breath and pushed down on the arms of the chair to allow himself to move his body a little. “But you didn’t come here to listen to an old man moaning.” He paused, as though inviting agreement. “My butler said you’d come about dragons.”
“That’s correct, Sir,” said Papa. “Three years ago, a dragon came to me and requested my help in a matter that affects their world. In order to help them, I need to buy back certain documents that you bought from the monastery when it went bankrupt.”
“Which documents would these be?”
Before Papa could answer, there was a knock at the door, and the servant returned with the promised refreshments. The coconut milk had no ginger in it. Had Papa been right about someone listening in the first room?
Once the servant had left, Papa said, “The Annals of the Protectorates, volumes seven, nine and thirteen, and the Supplementary Annals, volume three.”
Govus sipped his wine. “And what’s their interest in those?”
Papa smiled over the top of his glass. “I don’t believe they’d want me to tell you that.”
Govus frowned briefly. “The last time we met, you—putting it mildly—had no great love for dragons.”
“They’d just dumped me—us,” nodding to Serl, “thirty-two years from where we belonged. We were ‘home,’ but almost everyone we knew was dead, and the monastery, which had been my life for most of my adult years, had closed.”
“What’s changed, then?” Govus asked.
“Let’s just say dragons can be very persuasive,” said Papa.
Govus nodded slowly and drank some more wine. “So how much are you prepared to offer me for these documents?”
“A hundred svara.”
Govus pursed his lips and put a hand in front of his mouth. Tiwan couldn’t decide whether he was about to laugh or choke. He lowered his hand. “Five hundred.”
Papa sat up straighter. “Sir, that’s a lot more than we can—”
“Each.”
Papa put his glass back on the table and folded his arms. “I’m sorry, Sir, but that’s out of the question.”
“Four hundred and fifty each.”
“Two hundred for the lot.”
“That’s practically piracy,” said Govus. If he noticed the sour expression that crossed Papa’s face at the last word, he gave no sign of it.
“Would you be willing to let a scribe copy them?”
Govus shook his head. “My own scribe is fully occupied, and I don’t allow other people’s scribes into my library.”
Papa took a bite of a cake and chewed thoughtfully. “Could we offer you something else instead of money?”
Govus raised his eyebrows and glanced at Serl and Tiwan. “What do you have in mind?”
“New knowledge of dragons and their ways.”
“How did you come by this knowledge?”
Papa licked his lips. “A green dragon came to Nankaln a few weeks ago.”
“I heard. The villagers chased it away. My informant said it abducted a girl and was planning to eat her.” Govus’s gaze fell on Tiwan. “Ah. The girl?”
“Yes, Sir. But it didn’t abduct her. It rescued her from drowning, and stayed with her on the beach while she recovered. Some of the villagers found them, and assumed the dragon had taken her hostage.”
“Rescued her?” Govus leaned forward to peer at her, as though expecting to see what had made the dragon decide to do that. “That hasn’t happened since… I don’t think it’s ever happened, actually.” He took another mouthful of wine. “So, young Lady. You’re Iko’s daughter.”
Tiwan felt herself blush. She’d never been called young Lady before. “Y-y-yes. Sir.”
“And how old are you?”
“Ten, Sir.”
“You were drowning, and a dragon rescued you.”
“Y-yes, Sir.”
“Where were you drowning?”
Tiwan swallowed to moisten her throat. “A cove, Sir, near the harbour of Heon.”
“Did any of the villagers try to rescue you?”
“No, Sir.”
He tilted his head to one side. “Really? Why not?”
She’d wondered about that a lot over the last few weeks, mostly while lying in bed trying to get to sleep. “Not many people go to that cove, Sir, and you can’t really see it from the harbour.”
“So what happened? How did the dragon rescue you?”
From the corner of her eye, she glanced at Papa, who nodded. “I got caught in a fast current and pulled under the surface. I hit a big rock, and I must have fainted, because the next thing I knew, the dragon was carrying me to the shore in its mouth.”
“In its mouth?” Govus’s eyes widened. “My goodness. Were you afraid?”
“Not really, Sir. I didn’t realise it was a dragon until just before it let go of me.”
“Can you describe the dragon?”
She closed her eyes and recalled the encounter on the beach. “It was like a big lizard with wings. It was dark green with yellow eyes, and sharp teeth as long as my hand.”
“How big was it?”
“It’s… it’s hard to say, Sir.” She opened her eyes. “I was too close to it to get a good idea.”
“I measured some of the footprints it left on the beach, Sir,” said Papa. “I estimate the beast’s front feet as twenty-two inches long and its hind feet as twenty inches. That’s consistent with a body length of thirty feet, not counting the tail, and a wingspan of forty feet.”
“A young adult, then,” said Govus. “Did the dragon speak to you?” he asked Tiwan.
Again she glanced at Papa. Again he nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
“What did it say?”
“It, ah, taught me how to speak to it—with my mind. It asked me how old I was, and when I told it, it said I was still too young for the mission they need me to do.”
“And what is this mission?”
“It didn’t say, Sir.”
“You know that not many people can speak to dragons?” Govus said.
“Yes, Sir.”
“That means you’re very special, young Lady.”
She hadn’t felt special—and if she was, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be. But she sensed it would be rude to say that, so she replied, “Thank you, Sir.”
“So the villagers thought the dragon wanted to eat you, and tried to rescue you from it.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“How many villagers were there?”
“Um… about two dozen, Sir.”
“What weapons did they have?”
“Bows and spears, Sir.”
“Can you describe the battle for me?”
She closed her eyes again, reliving those events. “I was on the sand with the dragon, and the villagers were on the cliffs.”
“How far apart were you and the villagers?”
“I… I don’t know, Sir.”
“It’s about thirty yards, Sir,” said Papa. “The cliffs are about twenty feet high.”
“Go on, Tiwan,” Govus said.
“Uh… the villagers said they’d distract the dragon, to keep it looking at them. I said the dragon wasn’t dangerous, and it wouldn’t hurt them if they didn’t attack. They… they didn’t believe me. They thought it was just a-a big dumb animal. I tried to prove it, by… by asking it to raise its front leg. It did, and they decided… they decided…” She couldn’t bring herself to say that hateful word they’d used—dragonspawn—so she said, “They thought I was on the dragon’s side, and they attacked.”
Govus blew out a breath. “Then they were either very brave or very foolish.”
“It may have been a little of both, Sir,” Papa said.
Govus nodded. “So what happened then?”
“A few spears and arrows hit the dragon, Sir,” Tiwan said. “It didn’t like that.”
“I can imagine,” Govus replied with a smirk. “What did it do?”
“It roared, Sir.”
“Roared?”
“Louder than—than ten thunderstorms. Then there was a big cloud of sand everywhere, and when it cleared, the dragon had gone. So had the villagers.”
“It crossed over to their world from the ground?” said Govus, lifting his wine glass.
Papa said, “I think what happened, Sir, was that the roar scared the villagers away, and then the dragon jumped into the air, high enough that it could start flying. Then it crossed over when it reached a safe height.”
Govus seemed to cough without opening his mouth. Wine dribbled from his lips. He scowled and fished a cloth from his pocket to wipe the mess away. “The beast jumped? It must weigh ten tons.”
Papa smiled. “I’ve seen a bigger one do the same thing.”
Govus drained his glass, then dabbed his mouth with the cloth. “What you’ve told me is very interesting. There’s one more thing I’d like before I make a decision.”
“Sir?” said Papa, sipping his wine.
“I’d like to see the dragon.”
Papa’s hand shook. He stared at his wine glass before replying, “I-I’m sorry, Sir, I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
“Why not? They want your help. You need those documents to help them. Just tell them it’s a condition of my returning the documents to you.”
“I can’t force one to come, Sir. They’re not our servants or slaves.”
“You tried summoning twice, and a dragon came both times.”
“It was the same dragon, Sir, and the second time resulted in his death. After that, Athera warned me very clearly not to summon them again.”
“Things are different now, surely?” said Govus.
Papa shook his head. “Athera has called on me twice since then. On neither occasion did he say anything to make me believe their position has changed.”
Govus steepled his fingers. “Your daughter could do it.”
A mixture of anticipation and fear ran through Tiwan, just like when Serl had started teaching her to swim by convincing her to put her head underwater.
“She’ll do no such thing!” Papa spluttered.
“Then I’m afraid we can’t do a deal.”
Serl’s fist clenched, and Tiwan feared he’d start shouting, or punch Govus. But he forced himself to relax.
“You can’t seriously expect me to-to expose my child to such danger,” said Papa.
“What danger?” said Govus. “The dragons rescued her.”
“A dragon rescued her, Sir, when otherwise she would’ve drowned. If she tries to summon one when she’s not in any danger, there’s no telling what would happen. I can’t guarantee that the same dragon will come. I can’t guarantee a dozen dragons won’t come and destroy your house—or the entire island.”
Govus smiled. “I’m willing to take that chance.”
“I’m not.”
For several long moments, nobody spoke. Then Govus said, “Is that your final word on the matter?”
Papa breathed in, then glanced at Tiwan and Serl. “Do you think we might be excused for a few minutes, Sir?”
Govus raised his eyebrows, then jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “The room on that side should be free.”
The travellers went to the neighbouring room. It was furnished and decorated in a similar style to the one they’d just left, but instead of a balcony, had three tall narrow windows with half-closed shutters. Papa pulled the door shut and opened one set of shutters.
“Arrogant little barnacle,” Serl growled. “I say we summon the dragon and tell it to eat him.”
“Keep your voice down, please,” Papa whispered. “If we harm him, we won’t get the documents. And besides, dragons don’t eat people.”
“So what do we do?” said Serl.
Papa stuck his hands in his pockets and stared out of the window he’d opened.
“Papa?” said Tiwan. “I don’t know how to summon a dragon.”
He seemed not have heard her, and she was about to tap him on the shoulder when he replied in a distant voice, “I can show you.” After several long moments, he turned back to them and said, “We have to do as Govus says.”
“Even though Athera warned you not to try another summoning?” said Serl.
“If Tiwan does it, I believe Olahin is the most likely to answer. He should be safer than the others.”
Tiwan didn’t like the fact he said should be, not will be, and safer, not safe.
“If he’s not happy about being summoned, I’ll tell him it was my idea,” said Papa.
“Not Govus’s?” said Serl.
“If he’s hurt, we don’t get the books,” Papa said.
A lumped formed in Tiwan’s throat. “Will the dragon hurt you, Papa?”
“I don’t think so, but rather me than you.”
She threw her arms around him. “I won’t let him.”
Papa tousled her hair. “They need me as much as they need you. We’ll tell Govus we’ll do it, but we need some time to prepare, so it’ll happen tomorrow.” He lowered his voice. “We don’t want him to get the impression it’s easy.”
She let go of Papa and straightened her hair, then followed him and Serl back to Govus’s room.
“Have you reached a decision?” Govus asked.
“We have, Sir,” Papa replied.
“And?”
Papa took a deep breath. “We’ll summon the dragon.”
Govus grinned. “Excellent. Once I’ve seen it, I’ll give you the books.”
“We’ll need some time to prepare, though, Sir. It’ll be tomorrow at the earliest before we can attempt the summoning.”
“Very well. Would you like to stay here tonight?”
“That’s very kind of you, Sir,” said Papa. “We’d be honoured.”
Serl raised an eyebrow. “I’ll need to go back into town to pay tonight’s mooring fee for the boat.”
Govus gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’ll send a servant to do it.”
“Thank you, Sir,” said Serl.
Govus fiddled with something in his pocket. After a minute or two, there was a knock on the door, and a servant entered. “Our guests will be staying the night.”
The servant bowed and said to the travellers, “Follow me, please, Sirs, Lady.” He led them back to the room with the painting of the docks. “Your rooms will be ready in about half an hour. I’ll return to show you to them. Dinner will be at seven o’clock in the Clock Room—that’s downstairs at the back of the house. Breakfast is normally at eight o’clock in the Armour Room, but you can have it earlier or later if you wish. Treat the house as your own, but please don’t enter any room whose door is closed. If you need anything, just ring.” He indicated the bell rope in the corner, then bowed and left.
Once the man’s footsteps had faded, Papa said, “Well, I wasn’t expecting that.”
“He probably wants to be sure we don’t run off if we think the dragon won’t come,” said Serl.
Papa put a finger to his lips and nodded in the direction of the painting.
Serl frowned, perhaps trying to think of something else to talk about.
“It’s a very nice house, isn’t it?” said Tiwan.
Papa smiled. “‘Tasteful’ is the word, I believe. Govus built it himself. He told me the style is a reaction against the fussy and elaborate mansions his neighbours inherited from their ancestors.”
“Oh,” said Tiwan, not understanding why anybody would want a home that reacted against someone else’s. She gazed out of the window. Papa and Serl murmured behind her. She studied the lawn, the perimeter wall and the clouds. She was halfway through counting the flagstones in the path to the gate when the servant announced that their rooms were ready.
The servant took them to a pair of rooms on the opposite side of the house to where they’d met Govus. Each room had a large bed, a wardrobe, two winged chairs and a washstand with a mirror. One room also had a little desk with writing materials and a thin book on top of it. Nightclothes had been laid out on each bed. Windows on either side of the beds looked on to the garden. Instead of shutters, each window had sheets of glass in a hinged frame, and a piece of cloth on a rail that could be drawn across it.
“One room for you and your daughter, Sir,” the servant said to Papa. “The other room for you, Sir,” he said to Serl. “Will that be satisfactory?”
“Yes, thank you,” replied Papa.
The servant pointed out the bell ropes for summoning assistance, reminded them of the time and place for dinner, then left.
Tiwan opened the wardrobe, which was empty except for a set of fluffy towels on a shelf. She picked up the book from the desk. The cover proclaimed it to be The Combined Gospels of Mazor and Kashalbe. Inside, the writing was tiny but very neat.
“I thought the Gospels were supposed to be two books,” she said, showing it to Papa.
“They are, but they’re often put together for travellers. This one probably omits most of the commentaries.” He accepted it from her and leafed through it, then gave a low whistle. “Govus is even richer than I thought, if he can leave this sort of thing lying around in guest rooms.”
Serl gave him a curious look. “Every ship in the world has one.”
“This was made in Perakhandra in the last century—no, the one before. Someone invented a machine that could produce an entire page of writing at once, so it could make a copy of a book in a matter of hours or minutes.”
“I’ll bet the scribes weren’t happy about that,” said Serl.
“They weren’t. From what I’ve heard, there were thousands of these books made, but most were destroyed in one of the revolutions they’re always having over there—as were the secrets of the machine’s manufacture. It could’ve made books much cheaper and made them available to many more people than have them nowadays. So it’s ironic that now this one is probably worth more than any of the books we’ve come to buy from him.” He returned it to the desk, with what Tiwan fancied was reverence.
“So,” said Serl. He cupped a hand to his ear and pointed to the wall.
Papa shrugged. “Perhaps we should go for a walk.”
They found their way to the front door and strolled along the path to the gate. The hottest part of the day was over now, and a pleasant breeze ruffled the grass.
“Being in the open won’t stop Govus’s people from eavesdropping on us,” Papa said, “but it should make it more obvious.”
“Does he live here on his own?” Tiwan asked.
“I don’t know,” Papa replied. “Though now you mention it, I didn’t see anyone else except servants the last time I was here.”
“And there don’t seem to be many of them,” said Serl. “How do they keep such a big place so clean?”
“There are probably a lot more of them than we’ve seen,” Papa replied. “Rich people like their servants to stay out of sight unless they need them.”
“If he’s so rich,” Tiwan asked, “why did he want so much money for our books? It’s not as if he needs any more.”
Papa sighed. “He made his fortune by buying things as cheaply as possible and selling them as dearly as possible. I expect he’s been doing it so long that it’s just a habit now.”
“And,” Serl added, “he wouldn’t want us bragging that we got them for a tenth of what they were worth.”
They found their way to what Papa called a formal garden at the back of the house. This was an acre or two of shrubs and small trees with the occasional raised flower bed, laid out in straight lines and squares. Tiwan whispered to Papa that she didn’t think it was as nice as the one at the monastery.
“It probably looks a lot more impressive from the towers or the top floor of the house,” Papa whispered back.
“It’d be good for playing hunters and quarries, though.”
“I don’t think that’s what the servant meant by ‘treat the house as your own,’” Papa replied. “And aren’t you getting a bit old for that sort of thing?”
Tiwan nodded sadly. When had she last played hunters and quarries with Revath? Or any game? She couldn’t remember.
Papa guessed it was nearly time for dinner, so they went back inside and found the dining room. This was a long narrow room with windows along one side that looked onto the garden. Two tables ran parallel along its length, each seating about twenty people. The room was much more decorated than any they’d seen so far, with mouldings on the ceiling and paintings on the walls. Another mechanical clock stood at one end, between a statue of a leaping dolphin on one side and a prancing horse on the other.
“I’m not sure how to read the time from one of those things,” Papa said, “but I think it’s saying a quarter of an hour before seven o’clock. So I was almost right.”
A servant entered and bowed to them. “Good evening Sirs, Lady. If you would be so kind as to be seated, dinner will be served shortly.”
“Is Govus joining us?”
“The master usually dines alone, Sir.”
Papa nodded and chose a seat near the end of one of the tables. Serl and Tiwan sat on either side of him. The servant bowed and left the room.
“Why do I get the impression you shouldn’t have asked that last question?” Serl muttered.
The servants brought in a bewildering sequence of small colourful dishes, most of which Tiwan didn’t recognise. With some, she wasn’t even sure whether they were from an animal or a fish or a plant.
With the last course, a soft lemon-flavoured cake, the servants brought a bulbous bottle that they placed in the middle of the guests, along with thin glasses that they put in front of each diner. Papa poured a pale red liquid from the bottle into his glass and tasted it.
“Wine, but sweet,” he said. He poured some into Serl’s glass, then a little into Tiwan’s. “I suppose it’s time you tried some of this.”
Tiwan eyed the glass with suspicion. She’d occasionally asked Papa for some at home, but he’d always told her she’d have to wait until she was older. Well, if she was too old for hunters and quarries, perhaps she was old enough for wine. She picked up the glass and took a sip. Sweet, like Papa said. It reminded her of fruits, though she couldn’t have said which ones. It seemed to linger on her tongue after she swallowed it.
“Do you like it?” said Papa.
She nodded. “Will it make me drunk?”
He smiled. “That much won’t, especially not after all the food you’ve had. I’d say you’ll be all right with half a glass, but everyone’s different. You’ll have to work out your own limits.”
“Though not here,” Serl added.
A servant entered and spoke to Papa. “Sir, the master wishes to know at what time the performance will take place tomorrow.”
“Performance? Oh. Yes. Let’s see, breakfast is at eight o’clock?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Shall we say ten, then? To give everyone time to get settled?”
“Very good, Sir. Will you require any special equipment or facilities?”
“No, just a large piece of flat ground,” said Papa.
“Will the front lawn be suitable, Sir?”
“Yes. Actually… the ground might get damaged. It might be better outside the walls.”
“Very good, Sir.” The servant bowed and left.
“So I guess Govus hasn’t told his servants what this ‘performance’ will consist of,” said Serl.
“If the dragons don’t cooperate,” said Papa, “it won’t consist of very much at all.” He leaned back and stretched, then squinted at the mechanical clock. “Nearly nine. Finish your glass, then we’ll go to bed. Big day tomorrow.”
Tiwan gulped down the rest of her wine, and the three of them found their way to their rooms. Her head felt heavy, and her limbs were slow in obeying her. Serl bade them good night and went into his room. Papa and Tiwan entered theirs.
“I think I might be drunk,” Tiwan said as Papa went to the window to pull the cloth across it.
Papa frowned. “Stretch your arm out to your side. Now close your eyes and touch your nose with your index finger.”
She did this without any hesitation or difficulty.
“You’re not drunk,” he said.
“Oh.”
“Just as well, because there’s something I need to tell you.”
Thank you for reading. “The Reluctant Dragonrider” is on sale now—see here for where to buy.
Last update: 13/4/2025 15:09