Dragonoak (57 page)

“I need
to ask you something. What you were saying about books about Myros,
from before the War...” There was no need to ask him if he'd
actually read them. “Before I got here, I was in the Bloodless
Lands. With Kidira.”

Michael
shuddered, saying, “A terrifying woman indeed. I'm hardly surprised
that she'd head there.”

“Right?”
I agreed. “Anyway, I think...”

A
passing pane caused me to trail off, and I leant in closer,
lowering my voice.

“I think
we might've stopped the whole dragon-control problem. They were
using a necromancer.”

“A
necromancer? I can't say I'm terribly surprised. Claire said
something along the lines of them being involved, though she didn't
know how,” Michael hummed, tapping his fork on the table. “But if
you've dealt with the problem, what's become of the necromancer in
question?”

“Long
story,” I said, frowning. “But they were using necromancers to
control the dragons. Have you ever read anything about
that?”

Michael
leant back in his seat, arms folded across his chest.

“The obvious answer is
yes
, it's what your new friend spent
much of the Necromancy War doing,” he said. “I suppose that might
be where they got the initial idea from, though it's certainly been
refined since then.”

“Mm.”

People
had blamed a lot of things on necromancers. Failing crops, poor
weather, dragons and plagues. They had to be right about one thing,
I supposed.

After
the meal, Michael insisted on paying, and said there was plenty of
room for me in the cabin he'd been staying in for the past few
years. Turning in for the night meant being alone, thoughts growing
louder and louder, but I could've leapt at the opportunity to be
off my feet.

The fire
pit caught my eye as we passed by, but I knew there'd be other
nights for that. I was in no rush; I had nowhere to be other than
Kyrindval. Michael walked ahead, numbed to my presence, and I
followed him closely through the streets, eyes flitting around the
streams of blue and gold and green that hung from windows, the
animals carved over doorways, as Sen's cabin had once proudly
displayed a hummingbird.

“You'll
have to speak to someone about more permanent arrangements,”
Michael said, abruptly remembering I was there. “Zentha should be
able to help you. But for a few nights, my place will have to
do.”

Michael
took wide strides to tackle the steps leading up to the cabin he'd
brought me to. The door had been painted red with a weasel running
the length of the arch, but something caught his eye, stopping him
from make a grab for the handle.

Kidira
came marching up the road, leading Charley behind her.

I'd had
every intention of looking for him once we reached Kyrindval, but
my brother had been enough to distract me from all that. I ran over
to him, meaning to take the reins from Kidira, but she continued to
stride on as though I had no right to take him from her.

“I was
right,” she said flatly. “Half-right, at least. He was brought to
Kyrindval, but went unrecognised. He was being kept in someone's
garden.”

“Thank
you for finding him,” I said.

Minding
my manners around Kidira earnt me no favours.

“I'll
take him to the stables,” she said.

Unlike
Oak, Charley was more than content to follow Kidira, and I didn't
want to cause a fuss. Kidira made it three steps away from me
before pausing, deliberating for far too long whether she ought to
turn to me.

“You
said Akela is in Orinhal?” she eventually asked. “Atthis and Kouris
as well?”

“They
are. Akela was on a mission for Claire when I left, but she should
be back by now.”

Kidira
nodded sharply.

“Once
I've attended to business here, I ought visit Orinhal. I've plenty
to report to Claire that wouldn't do to send in a
letter.”

I didn't know how to respond. Kidira was making excuses for
herself, making excuses to
me
, and so I watched her head down
the road with Charley, standing there until she was out of
sight.

“See
what I mean?” Michael said. “I think she just said more to you than
she's said to me in two years.”

In the
morning, I took Michael's advice. Not wanting to overstay my
welcome, to drift aimlessly from one cabin to the next, I headed to
the great lodge to see about making a true resident of Kyrindval of
myself. Any unwelcome dreams that'd come to me were banished by the
acceptance of the tribe, greeted heartily by the pane Michael was
living with, offered more breakfast than I could eat in a
week.

Kyrindval hadn't been burnt to the ground, but that wasn't to
say that it hadn't changed, when I really paid attention to my
surroundings. Neighbours shared news with one another – rumours
from other tribes, from travelling merchants – troubled by what it
would mean for the pane, once all the dragons were dealt with.
Plenty there knew of Prince Rylan and spoke far more freely of the
man marching through the ruins of Kastelir under the guise of
liberating it than Claire ever did.

I hadn't
been exactly sure how I'd go about expressing my interest to join
Kyrindval – Michael was gone by the time I woke up – but there were
plenty of pane gathered around the lodge. I asked one if he had an
appointment and he furrowed his brow, looking at me strangely. I
thought I'd used the wrong word until someone behind him was kind
enough to tell me that so long as I waited, I'd get my
turn.

I was
there for a better part of an hour. Pane chatted about everything
from needing to ask an old, retired farmer who now worked within
the lodge whether it was best to expand the field to the east or
west, to requesting space to set up a workshop for younger,
restless pane.

A pane whose horns had yet to pierce through their forehead
kept glancing at me from around the corner of their cabin. I did my
best to pretend I hadn't noticed them but couldn't hold back a
smile for long, and when they gathered the courage to rush over, it
turned out they'd learnt a handful of Mesomium from Michael and
wanted to test it out on me. They couldn't do much more than say
good morning and ask me how I was, but I asked the question in
return, and they told me they were
very
well, thank you!
before bolting off,
beaming.

“Who are
you after?” the pane at the door who'd been directing people in
asked.

“It's
about housing. I was told to see Zentha.”

Humming
under her breath, the pane leant back, and glanced around the
room.

“They're
just about ready. Go ahead, on your left,” she said, waving me
inside.

Tables
were set out within the lodge with plenty of space between them,
chairs of equal size flanking both sides. Eight pane were there to
counsel the people of Kyrindval, and all of them were taking
exactly as much time as they needed. They chatted away cheerfully,
some of them discussing their problems and plans over tea and
biscuits the size of plates, others having clearly gone
off-topic.

Zentha
was shaking hands with a man who'd come to see them, and I hoped my
spirits were as high as his were, once I'd spoken to
Zentha.

They
beckoned me over with their claws, hardly surprised to find a human
amongst the pane, and I pulled myself up into the chair opposite
them, feet barely dangling off the seat, once I was flat against
the backrest. Zentha's horns were impressive as ever, curving back
with hundreds of years of growth, ridges pronounced in lieu of
lines across their forehead.

“Good
morning,” I said, taking the initiative. “I'm Rowan, and I hope I'm
in the right place. I came to ask about staying in
Kyrindval.”

“You
didn't know Svargan the last time you were here, did you?” Zentha
asked, letting me know that they recognised me. “Well, you're in
the right place. Biscuit?”

They
gestured to the plate in front of them and I held both hands
up.

“Usually, yes, but I think I just had three meals for
breakfast,” I said, watching as they picked up a biscuit for
theirself and snapped it on their fangs. “Thank you
anyway.”

“Some of
the pane think your lot will grow if they feed you enough,” Zentha
said, laughing softly. “Well, we've got room for you. You're, ah...
you're the sister of Michael, aren't you? No doubt he can vouch for
you. The question is, little friend, what would you like to do
here? Where would you be happy?”

Zentha's ears stood up as they awaited my answer, and I tried
not to reply to eagerly, lest it sound as though I had no clear
direction in mind. Where would I be
happy,
they'd said. Not where would
I be
useful
.

“I like
working with my hands. I've done a lot of farming and fishing, but
I think your tools might be a bit too big for me,” I said, humming.
“Oh! I could help teach the pane Mesomium, if they wanted to learn.
Or Canthian! Which might not be the most useful thing for them, but
learning's learning, right?”

Agreeing
with a smile, Zentha tapped their claws against the arm of their
seat and narrowed their gaze at me.

“About that. Where
did
you learn Svargan?”

“From...
from Kouris,” I said cautiously, not knowing whether the answer
would draw anger out of them. Nothing of the sort flashed across
their features; they'd been given the answer they'd asked for and
nothing more. Before I could read too much into it, a question
barrelled its way into my mind. “Why? Is there something wrong with
it?”

“Oh, not
wrong
, per se,” Zentha said, rubbing their chin. “A little dated,
perhaps... ? It makes you sound older than you are. It's no matter,
of course. I'm sure you'll pick things up within a matter of weeks.
You seem more than capable enough.”

Zentha
left me alone with that thought, and headed to one of the cabinets
at the back of the hall. Two of the pane to my right broke out into
laughter and I couldn't help but glance over, eyes fixing on the
statues raised up towards the ceiling as a result. I hadn't spent
nearly long enough in there, last time.

“Let's
see...” Zentha hummed, taking their time in turning the pages of
the book they'd dragged over. Just because the pane moved freely
between households didn't mean that their actions weren't
well-documented. “I'd probably put you in gold, with the wolves –
nothing permanent, mind, but you get a feel for these things after
the first few decades – and if you head to... three streets on your
left, there's a cabin with a wolf for its sigil and blue banners.
They've two rooms spare there. I don't see any reason why they'd
object to you staying with them.”

I
grinned, but it was short-lived. Foolish as it was, I shuffled to
the edge of my seat, feet hanging above the ground, and lowered my
voice.

“I'm
a... a necromancer. Is that going to be a problem? Because other
than Canth, it's been a problem everywhere else I've ever lived. I
don't want to get settled down again, only to have to leave. Or run
away.”

Zentha
folded the book closed, took another biscuit and snapped it in
half. Brushing the crumbs off the table, they popped both pieces
into their mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

“It's never been a problem. Not amongst the pane,” Zentha
said, holding up a hand to silence me when my mouth snapped open to
protest. “The pane have had problems with
necromancers
, not
necromancy.
We'v
e had endlessly more problems
with humans of other sorts, yet we still opened our doors to your,
ah... brother, did we not?”

“You
did,” I said, wanting to smile for what Zentha had said and frown
for doubting the pane in the first place.

“Use your powers responsibly. Use them to help us. And the
next time you speak with Kouris, ask her to teach you the
word
necromancer
in Svargan.”

Zentha
used Kouris' name easily, and had they not continued to speak, I
would've blurted out, wanting to know whether there was a chance of
her ever being allowed back in Kyrindval. They told me how I could
go about gathering students. There were noticeboards scattered
around the tribe, and once I'd decided on a place and time, I was
certain to be inundated with interest.

I left
with a neatly drawn map from Zentha, pointing towards the cabin I
was to call home, along with a biscuit they'd insisted I take with
me. I didn't have difficulty finding it, wolf sat proudly atop the
awning, head held back in anticipation of a moon that had yet to
rise, but after knocking a few times and tentatively pulling myself
up to look through the windows, I found that nobody was
in.

I headed
straight for the dragon-bone gate at the at the entrance of
Kyrindval, making my way into the fields beyond in search of
Kouris. A few young pane were playing nearby, chasing around a goat
and then letting it chase them, laughing delightedly every time it
rammed its head into their legs. Kouris watched from atop a rock,
reminding them to be careful. The goat had far bigger horns than
the two of them put together.