Wrap your whip around your throat,
Strangle, die, you scaly goat.
Koren sighed. For some reason, when she was alone in her room, the songs seemed stupid, just stones hurled by ignorant children. She couldn’t laugh now. If the stories were true, the dragons kept them from being enslaved to the cruel mountain bears. Sure, the dragons also enslaved them, but for humans, slavery was the only option, so it seemed better to be here than in the other world. At least she would never be the main course at a meal.
As she watched the wavering flame, a stream of words entered her mind. Composing prayer songs had always been easy, and now that her hopes for Promotion had been kindled, a surge of emotions painted her verses with a blend of joy and sadness.
I dream of long walks without a command,
The freedom of mind where dragons are banned.
I dance with the girls in meadows pristine;
We splash in cool ponds of aquamarine.
But when I awake from my visions of hope,
I’m bound by a chain; I am pulling a rope,
And dragging a load of sweet honey or oil;
My dreams and my longings all crumble and spoil.
O could it be true, Creator of All,
You’ll lift from my coffin this heavy dread pall?
And send me to freedom, to Northlands so grand,
To bask in cool breezes and sing in that land?
I ask you tonight, to hear my lament.
I have no real parents, no family descent.
This orphan cries out to Father above,
O grant my request, O send me your love.
Allow me to know the next step I should take
To learn how to wrestle the chains I must break
And rescue my friends from the shackles that bind
Then fly to real freedom, and not just in mind.
She released the final note with a sigh. She had to hold on to hope. So many other humans had given up and were just going through the motions, especially those who faced beatings every day from the crueler dragons.
After a few silent seconds, Natalla walked in. With her dark hair tied back, her tired eyes were easy to see. She plopped down on her mat and folded her hands in her lap.
“What’s wrong?” Koren asked. “Were the exams difficult?”
With her gaze locked on her hands, Natalla firmed her jaw. “I’m being promoted.”
“Promoted!” Koren slid over and gave her a strong hug. “That’s wonderful!”
Natalla turned toward her. A skeptical frown bent her lips. “No, it’s not. A Separator was at exams, and he chose the two girls with the lowest scores. I was one of them.”
“The lowest scores?” Koren sat back. “How strange!”
“I think Stephan was right all along. The dragons don’t send humans to the Northlands. They eat them.”
“Oh, nonsense. He’s just trying to scare you. You’ve seen him laugh when you get the shivers.”
“How do you know it’s nonsense?”
“You’ve seen the letter from my aunt. She’s in the Northlands. I could never mistake her handwriting.”
“I know.” Natalla crossed her arms over her chest. “But she hasn’t written since then.”
“Of course not,” Koren said. “She explained that. They’re allowed to write only once to give comfort to those left behind, but any further correspondence makes us daydream too much about going there ourselves. It’s a fruitless desire, considering the odds of getting promoted.” Smiling broadly, she patted Natalla on her knee. “But you beat the odds! You get to go!”
Her arms still crossed, Natalla shook her head. “One letter isn’t enough. The dragons could have forced her to write it before they ate her. I’m going to try to escape.”
“Escape!” Koren looked at the corridor. Sometimes Xenith managed to squeeze in to talk to the girls, but not so much lately. “Even if you get away, you’ll be alone in the wilderness, and you would never make it past the great barrier wall.”
“Stephan said he would go with me. He’s been studying survival skills. We can manage, and we’re not going to try to pass the wall. We can set up a new community near the swamplands and steal some of the cattle children away. It will be hard, but at least it’ll be better for them than where they are now.”
“I can’t argue with that.” Koren looked at Natalla’s determined eyes. “Okay, what if I learn that the Promotions story is true, and you can go to the Northlands? Would you go? Or are you set on escaping?”
“I would go. If the king there is as kind as people say he is, maybe I can persuade him to help the cattle children.”
Koren stared again at Natalla. She was too thin and frail to survive the wilderness. Of course Stephan would do all he could to help, but even a brother’s love wasn’t enough to prevent illness or injury. The only way to keep her safe was to learn the truth.
“Okay,” Koren said. “I’ll go to the Basilica tonight after the dragons are asleep.”
Natalla’s voice rose. “But how? You’ll be captured for sure. And what kind of proof will you be able to find?”
“Shhh!” Koren glanced at the tunnel again and lowered her voice to a whisper. “You must not let Madam know what I’m doing. I hope to sneak into the Separators’ courtroom and see what I can find.”
Natalla grasped Koren’s hands. “Let me come with you!”
“No!” Koren pulled away and rose to her feet. “Better for one of us to get caught than two.”
“They’ll send you back to the Traders…or worse.”
“Nothing is worse than that. That’s why I’m going instead of you.” For a moment, a memory of her weeks in the cattle camps flashed in her mind, but she shook it away. Those days were too awful. She had to keep those thoughts trapped in the dungeon of forgetfulness. “I’ll risk it. Anything to keep you from trying to escape.”
“Okay. But if you don’t come back before Pariah sets, I’m leaving. I might not have another chance.”
“If I don’t make it back by then, that means trouble.” Koren pulled her nightgown over her head, covering her labor tunic and shorts.
“It’s third day,” Natalla said. “Aren’t you going to take off your clothes for Madam to wash?”
“They might not get dry in time. I’m not going outside in just a nightgown.”
“Madam will ask questions.”
“I’ll tell her I’ll wash them when I bathe tomorrow. The river’s warm enough in the middle of the day.”
“But the boys—”
“The boys will be out in the fields. They work so late, they can’t take their baths until past girls’ curfew.”
Natalla shrugged. “If you say so, but I’m using Xenith’s pool. It’s always warm…and it’s private.”
After Natalla left to bathe, Koren lay down and drifted in and out of sleep. Soon Madam Orley’s laughter jolted her to full wakefulness. Sitting on her mat, Madam leaned back against the wall, a lantern at her side. Natalla and Petra sat cross-legged nearby, both staring at her with identically braided dark hair. Obviously Madam had just told one of her tales, and her eyes shining in the lantern’s light hinted she was ready to tell another.
Stifling a yawn, Koren sat up and stretched. Madam Orley and the two girls were dressed in nightgowns, all three clean and smelling like the incense in Xenith’s pool room. Petra, as always, stayed quiet. Since her previous owner ordered her tongue cut out, she never uttered a word, just an occasional quiet groan when she grew tired.
“So the favored princess is awake,” Madam said, smiling.
Koren squinted at her and mumbled, “Favored princess?”
“As if you didn’t know.” Madam’s smile wilted, but she seemed sad rather than angry, as if weary of keeping a gleeful countenance. “Arxad has taken a liking to you, and that has caused more work for me.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you. I can sweep the cave.”
Madam sighed. “You do not need to. Hard wor
k is my lot in life. I was born a slave. I will die a slave.”
Koren scooted closer. With Madam in a melancholy mood, maybe she would reveal some secrets. “I read in the history book today about Magnar and how he brought humans to our world.”
“I have told you that tale several times.” Madam gave Koren a skeptical squint. “Why are you bringing it up now?”
Koren reached over and grasped Madam’s hand. “Because I need to know if it’s really true.”
“True?” Madam’s eyes took on a faraway look. She seemed to stare right past Koren. After a few seconds, she shook her head. “No, child. That story isn’t true—neither the human nor the dragon version. We tell it to the younger children so they can learn to have some affection for the dragons. Working with a spark of love in your heart is better than stewing in hatred.”
“So there is no other world? No bears? No Magnar?”
“Magnar is real, to be sure, but that story and the others are fables and wishful thinking, and all three of you are old enough to learn the truth. The elders have documents written by humans that date much further back than when we supposedly arrived here. There is no doubt about it. Humans have always lived here under the enslaving claws of the dragons. We did not come from another world.”
“What about promoted slaves? Do they really go to the Northlands?”
Madam chuckled. “Have you been listening to the boys’ teasing about dragons eating humans?”
“Well…” Koren glanced at Natalla briefly. “I have heard the rumors.”
“Don’t you fret,” Madam said, patting her hand. “Dragons despise human meat.”
“Really? How do you know?”
Madam pulled her head back. “How do I know? Why, everyone knows that.”
“Do you know a dragon who has tasted human meat?” Koren asked. “If no dragon likes it, wouldn’t they all have had to try it to know?”
Madam scowled. “You’re asking nonsense questions.”
Natalla piped up. “It isn’t nonsense. I was wondering the same thing.”
“Well, then,” Madam said, “I suppose you have to eat goat manure before you’ll know if you like it.”
“Ewww!” Natalla and Koren said at once. Petra grimaced.
A triumphant smile spread across Madam’s face. “You know it’s bad because of its smell and where it came from. The same is true for humans. To them, we smell like manure, and the very thought of eating one of us will cause their younglings to say, ‘Ewww!’”
Koren looked at Natalla again, this time waiting for her to notice. She still seemed skeptical, very skeptical.
“But why would I get a Promotion?” Natalla asked. “Wouldn’t the Separators choose someone smarter?”
Madam waved her hand. “Nonsense. They just think you’re hatched from the black egg.”
Koren let those words sink in. Someday, or so the prophecy said, the queen dragon would lay a black egg, and although the youngling would begin its life encumbered with physical disadvantages, it would grow into the greatest of dragons. And that legend gave birth to the idiom “Hatched from the black egg,” which even humans have used to encourage children of lesser intelligence or physical abilities.
“The king of the Northlands,” Madam continued, “wants pliable girls who won’t talk too much. That’s why Koren will never see that great king. She’s too smart and too valuable. Have you ever seen a redhead get a Promotion? I haven’t.”
Koren’s heart sank. Now that she thought about it, Madam was right. Only the dark-haired girls were ever chosen. Her “cap of fiery brilliance” would keep her in the hot regions forever.
Madam clapped her hands. “Time for sleep, girls. Tomorrow is another day of sweat and tears.”
As Koren laid her head down, Madam’s words echoed within. She had repeated that bedtime call every night for months, but this time it pierced Koren’s heart. She formed the words on her lips. Sweat and tears. It was true. Every day brought both the sweat of hard labor and tears of loneliness whenever she allowed thoughts of her parents to break through. Only fleeting images of her mother’s face whisked by, more like a phantom than a living person. Still, she remembered enough to know that Mother was kind. In Koren’s memories, her mother’s lovely brow was always smooth, never wrinkled in a scowl or frown.
No matter how hard she tried, no image of Father ever appeared. Only his voice ever made its way into her sad memories, a bare few words that she sang to herself before going to sleep every night.
“I love you, little K.”
As Koren let the usual tears flow, Natalla slid a hand into hers and whispered, “I’m still going. I don’t think Madam knows what’s really true.”
For a long moment, Koren said nothing. Although the denial that they had come from another world was disappointing, it made a lot of sense. How could a dragon fly beyond the sky? And if the elders had documents that disproved the tale, that pretty much sealed its fate as a myth. Yet the explanations about the Promotions weren’t as convincing. She would have to help Natalla learn the truth.
Giving Natalla’s hand a gentle squeeze, Koren whispered, “My plans are the same. If I’m not back before Pariah sets, then you and Stephan should go ahead and try to escape.”
Five
Jason fastened the clasp on his new cloak and sat on the marble steps in front of Prescott’s castle. With darkness blanketing the hill, walking home would be a lonely journey, especially in the forest. He had lost his fear of the woods long ago, but after being humiliated by snide remarks from several of Prescott’s friends at the Counselor’s invocation, he felt small and weak.
Only an hour ago, the former Counselor, an elderly man who had reached mandatory retirement age, walked up to Prescott and said, “I see you have chosen another peasant for your bodyguard. I suppose if he dies defending you, it will be no loss. There are many more rats in the sewers who can handle a blade.”
Not only that, the new Counselor, Viktor Orion, still dressed in his ceremonial silk, stopped by and looked Jason over, a smirk on his face. “He is a handsome lad, to be sure, Your Lordship. Perhaps he will help us find the Diviner. It is said that the sultry witches are always on the lookout for a callow catch.”
And Prescott just laughed at both comments, not offering a single word of defense. He should have known how stupid his silence was. A wise governor realizes that the warrior who watches his back is the warrior who keeps the daggers from flying there.
Jason pondered Counselor Orion’s odd words. They seemed practiced, as if scripted for that moment. Was he trying to communicate a message that he didn’t want Prescott to understand? If by “the Diviner” he meant Elyssa, why would he mention her unless he thought she was still alive?
None of that mattered now. While the speeches at the invocation droned on, the solution to the puzzle became clear in Jason’s mind. Prescott was the bear, and the key was on the ring that he kept in his tunic’s pocket, close to his heart. During the ceremony and afterward, he frequently reached into the vest pocket and fingered the keys, as if worried that they might have jumped out and run away.
As thunder rumbled in the distance, Jason rose. One way or another, this would be his last day as that fool’s bodyguard. He would either quit or be fired. Considering what he planned to do now, there weren’t any other options.
Jason marched back to the castle’s main entrance and approached Drexel, the door’s guard. “I forgot to give something to Governor Prescott,” Jason said. “It’s very important.”
Drexel, a tall, thin man with a black handlebar moustache, scowled. “What could a peasant have that His Lordship would want at this time of night? Bodyguard or not, it had better be urgent.”
“Oh, it’s urgent.” Jason pulled his copy of the Underground Gateway newsletter from his pocket and smoothed out the wrinkles. “I took this from someone in his inner circle. It appears that one of those crazy conspiracy theorists is within his ranks. Of course, I couldn’t interrupt the ceremony, but I
forgot to tell him afterwards.”
“You forgot? What kind of bodyguard are you?”
“A new one,” Jason said, bowing. “I beg your indulgence.”
Drexel reached for the page, but Jason pulled it back. “I must speak to him privately. It is up to His Lordship to decide what to do with this information. It would be a shame if I had to tell him tomorrow who prevented my access to him tonight.”
“For a new bodyguard, you are a quick student of political maneuvering.” Drexel pushed a key into a hefty iron lock and released the door’s bolt. “Take care that you don’t maneuver yourself into a dangerous corner. There are people in the governor’s employ who are far craftier than you realize.”
Jason brushed off Drexel’s condescending tone and gave him a friendly nod. “I will leave through the rear door. It’s closer to my path home.”
“Very well.” Drexel almost smiled. “You will find a lantern in the vestibule.”
Jason hurried in, picked up the lantern, which was already trimmed and lit, and marched across the vast lobby. Since he had visited Prescott’s bedroom earlier, finding it again would be no problem.
After passing through the narrow corridor and entering the massive living room, he turned down the lantern as far as he could without extinguishing the flame. The bedroom lay only a few steps ahead. From here, a closed door was visible, but no guard. Would someone be stationed inside? If so, wouldn’t Drexel have mentioned it? With armed guards at every exterior door, maybe Prescott wasn’t paranoid enough to create a gauntlet of soldiers within the castle.
When he reached the bedroom, he set the lantern on the floor and lifted the latch. A quiet click sounded, not enough to wake any but the lightest of sleepers. Pushing the door open a crack, he peered into the dim room. The energy channels in the walls had been turned down to their nighttime setting, just enough light to keep someone on a washroom journey from bumping into anything.