Dragonoak: The Complete History of Kastelir (29 page)

I didn't flinch.

I stayed with her that night, in the hills outside of Kyrindval.

“Go on, be heading back now. They're good people—they'll see to it that you have somewhere to stay,” she said, trying to steer me back towards Kyrindval, but I wouldn't allow myself to leave her alone. I sat on the opposite side of the fire that I'd cooked some of the goat she'd snatched over, not saying much of anything before exhaustion claimed me.

As darkness fell, the windows in Kyrindval began to glow, and at the heart of the tribe, in front of the great lodge, a fire burnt in a deep pit. I watched the pane trickle out of their homes, greeting each other in the streets and heading down towards the fire, sitting in a circle around it. I wondered if we'd come during a festival, for many of the pane were clearly preparing for
something
, and seeing my eyes fixed on the fire, Kouris said, “This happens every night, more or less. Once the work is done, the pane get together and put on shows—singing, dancing. Bit of poetry or a play, sometimes. They even bring new dishes around, from time to time.”

From where we were sat, I couldn't discern much of what was unfolding. My eyes were heavy, adrenalin leaving my body and reminding me how much my legs ached. I was half-asleep before I thought to curl up in the grass.

The sun had been up for hours by the time I joined it. Well-rested, I stretched out and headed back into Kyrindval without much more than a hint of a wave in Kouris' direction. On the way in, I came across a group of younger pane. They were all taller than I was, but I doubted they were much older than eight or nine. Their horns had yet to start growing and their tusks barely touched their upper lips. A few of them were brave enough to wave at me, but immediately became bashful when I waved back.

“Thank you—oh, and good morning,” I said as they scrambled to let me pass. I doubt they understood Mesomium, but my meaning was clear enough.

On my way to the centre of Kyrindval, I started to notice patterns. The pane all wore a swathe of colour over their leathers, and I took it to be some manner of uniform; the three pane carving wood for furniture donned a dark green, and those in the butcher's wore a light, soft red; these colours ran from the lodges, too, banners draped across awnings and hanging from windows.

Outside the great lodge, where I thought I'd have the most luck finding the others, one of the most amazing things I'd ever witnessed was happening.

Four pane had gathered and Michael stood amongst them,
listening
as they spoke. The pane went on talking for five, six minutes, stumbling over their words and injecting long pauses into the conversation, and not once did Michael talk over them or presume to fill in the missing words. He was enthralled. He didn't even notice me approach, until the tale the pane were sharing with him was over and he had heartily thanked them for the information.

“Rowan! There you are! You can't begin to imagine how much the pane have to share, or how willing they are to do so,” he said brightly, hooking an arm around mine. I wanted to ask where Claire was, but he was in such high spirits that I didn't even bother to interrupted him. “Look here—see all the animals carved above doorways? All the coloured banners? The pane don't have families as we do – something about, ah, self-contained reproduction – but choose sigils of their own, as well as colours, and sift from lodge to lodge with one of the same markings, until they find a comfortable home. Amazing, isn't it? Could you imagine, turning up at our village baker's house one day because you shared a sigil and not being asked what you thought you were doing, dragging all your things in?”

“That would be... well, it looks like the pane are a lot friendlier than we are,” I said, “I think the colours have something to do with work? I saw a lot of pane working together, and they all wore the same coloured cloth.”

“Oh, hm. Perhaps,” Michael allowed, not as interested in speculation when it wasn't coming from a pane. “Had breakfast yet? They gave me... something, something baked, and I think you'd like it.”

“Not yet,” I said, and quickly added on, “Have you seen Claire?”

“She's probably busy, you know,” he said, releasing my arm and placing his hands on his hips. I lifted my brow and he rolled his eyes, gesturing vaguely to one of the nearby lodges. “But I believe she spent the night over there. Still, Rowan. Let her get on with her work, alright? She came here for a reason.”

I thanked him all too cheerfully and rushed off, not giving him the chance to lecture me further. If Claire was busy, she'd let me know; all I wanted was to see her, to let her know that I hadn't toppled off a mountain or been snapped up by a dragon. And perhaps ask if she wanted to get breakfast.

The lodge was a lot more intimidating once I was stood before it. I had to push down hard to actually get up the steps, and the door handle was level with my head. I hesitated, not knowing the words to explain that I'd got the wrong lodge, should that turn out to be the case, and gathered the courage to knock.

No one answered.

I knocked again and the results didn't differ. I had more luck when I tried the handle; the door swung open, revealing a wide hallway. A handful of fur cloaks were hung from pegs by the door, and I took tentative steps inside, glancing into open rooms as I went. In the centre of the kitchen stood a table that could've seated a dozen humans, and in baskets on the counter were unwashed vegetables bigger than any I'd seen before. The other three rooms contained more gigantic furniture; sofas bigger than the bed I'd slept in at Isin, bunk beds that would be like climbing a tree to get atop; all of them swamped with furs, tables cluttered with cups the size of bowls.

The pane who lived there were gone for the day, and I took my chances with the one closed door.

I knocked, and Claire answered—though not with words I understood.

“It's me—sorry,” I said, certain I was disturbing her.

There was a shifting from within and Claire hurried to the door.

“Rowan,” she said, looking me over. Ensuring I was still in one piece. “Did you spend the night with Kouris?”

“I did. I'm sorry I rushed off like that. I don't really know what came over me. I just... well, you had important things to do, so I guess it doesn't really matter!”

“Someone ought to have been with Kouris. Had I not thought you safe with her, I would've looked for you,” Claire assured me matter-of-factly, and I bit my tongue, not yet bold enough to mention the dragons. “I do have important matters to attend to today...”

“Oh! Right. Sorry, I thought you might! I just wanted you to know that I hadn't gone anywhere,” I rushed to explain myself, stepping back and out of her way.

Claire hummed, straightening out her left sleeve.

“I'm free until midday, however,” she added, “Have you had breakfast yet?”

I shook my head, doing what I could not to trip over my feet on the way to the pantry.

“The pane said I was to help myself—I'll be sure to reimburse them before we leave,” Claire reassured me and she started to rummage around the shelves. They were too high for her to comfortably reach across, but she didn't let that stop her; Claire pushed herself onto her tiptoes, one palm on the edge of the shelf, and managed to hoist herself up far enough to reach what she'd set her eyes on.

It quickly became evident that Claire had no intention of staying in the lodge. I'd been dreading the prospect of chairs I couldn't have been expected to scramble in when Claire wrested an empty basket from one of the cupboards lining the floor. She filled it with rolls the size of my head, and cut great slices from a wheel of cheese so large that she had to put all her weight on the knife to cut through the rind.

“What?” she asked when I smirked at the basket.

“... nothing. Nothing!” I said, propping the door open for her as we left. “I wasn't expecting to go on a picnic, that's all.”

Claire frowned, glowering down at the enormous basket filling the width of her arms.

“It's nice out. It seemed a shame to waste it,” she grumbled. “Did you
want
to carry the food loose in your arms?”

Claire was seconds away from putting the basket down and embarking on a quick meal in the corridor, so I waved my arms in front of myself and rushed out of the cabin, luring her out into the sunlight.

She was right. It would've been a shame to waste the morning inside. It wasn't as warm as it had been in Isin, but everything around us more than made up for that. The bustle of Kyrindval served as constant, relaxing background noise, and friendly faces knocked the last of the morning chill out of the air.

As we strolled through the tribe, Claire pointed here and there, saying, “This is where the apothecaries work. There aren't healers among the pane, leaving them to rely solely on bitterwillow,” – “One of the schools, though they only gather a few times a week,” – “A library. Your brother will be pleased.” There was no doubt in my mind that I'd forget what was where within minutes, but I listened intently, looking at Claire more than I did the buildings.

She seemed happier than she had before, now that we were in Kyrindval. Perhaps Queen Kidira had been willing to hear her out.

We stopped on the edge of the tribe, where a crescent of steps were carved into the hillside. Claire sat down, and the steps served as seats well enough; they arched around a flat, paved area, and Claire was too busy attending to breakfast to explain its purpose. I would've been sorry for the tour to end, had I not been ignoring the way hunger dug its claws into my stomach for the better part of half an hour.

“Was it like this?” I asked, taking a slice of the bread Claire had carved from a roll using a knife verging on the size of a short sword. “The pane tribe you stayed in?”

Claire popped a crumb of cheese into her mouth before slicing a generous portion free.

“As similar as Eaglestone and Praxis are to one another,” she settled on.

A handful of younger pane crept up on us. Their leader, a girl with the first signs of a right horn showing, inched her way to the edge of the steps, but when I raised a hand to wave, they shrieked and scattered like ants. It wouldn't be long until they towered over us, and I wondered what stories pane were raised on; whether they flinched at the thought of humans, ever-warring, ever turning on each other.

“Why did you go there?” I asked through a mouthful of bread. The crust was so thick my jaw instantly ached, and I tried to swallow too much at once. “Were you studying the dragons?”

“Not quite,” Claire said. She wasn't struggling with her food—but then again, she had experience. “I had a very... sheltered up-bringing, in many senses of the word. Whatever I needed or wanted was mine; I never had to worry about there being enough to eat, or somewhere safe to sleep. The King and Queen decided that I ought to experience something of a more rugged way of life, in order to make me a better... what is it?”

“That's not it,” I said, squinting at her. Claire was in the habit of carefully selecting her words and holding back what she could, but she was burying the truth deeper than ever, this time. “That's not why you went to stay with the pane, is it? You're not telling me something.”

Claire tightened her jaw, tore a chunk of crust off the bread, and didn't bring it to her lips. I went on chewing my own breakfast, legs crossed, eyes fixed on Claire as I waited for her to continue.

“Fine,” she eventually huffed. “I was sent there in order to instil myself with a sense of discipline.”

“Really?
You
?”

Claire turned to face me, more eager to defend herself than she had been before.

“I was raised alongside two Princes. I grew up in a castle, my every whim catered to; I thought I could do as I pleased. I was
nineteen
,” she protested.

I laughed into my breakfast, and the absence of a voiced response was worse to Claire than anything I could've said.

“Well, I doubt you were much better at that age,” she grumbled.

“That was only four years ago for me. Besides, I was working! Far too busy putting people back together to get myself into trouble,” I said cheerfully, catching sight of the impossibly large village around me, giddy with the realisation that
this
was my life now. For the first time, I'd brought up my past and hadn't found reason to grimace.

“You must've got into
some
manner of trouble before that,” Claire stated, as though it was impossible for there only to have ever been one abrupt, all-consuming trouble in my life.

And because it sounded as though she was genuinely interested, I said, “I got bit by a wolf, once. I got bit by wolves
plenty
of times, actually, but the first time it happened, I nearly lost half my torso.”

“Really?” She was more curious, now. Less demanding. “How does one accomplish such a feat?”

“Well—” I pivoted to face her in earnest, breakfast laying forgotten in my lap. “There are always wolves around farms, right? With a forest so close to the village, they were sneaking in every night, no matter how many fences we put up. They always found a way around them, or under them. My dad, he used to hire people from the village to patrol around, but they only ever scared them back. They weren't getting rid of them. So one day I figured that I'd start fighting them off.”

“You thought you could fight wolves?” Claire asked, raising an eyebrow. “How old were you?”

“You thought you could slay dragons,” I returned, and she nodded, conceding the point. “Anyway, I was twelve—and it seemed like a good idea at the time! So I made myself a spear out of a rake handle with a kitchen knife tied to the end, and patrolled the edge of the farm. I waited for hours, but no wolves showed up. Michael came over, dragged me back home for dinner, and didn't even ask me what I was doing.”

I was talking with my hands. I was saying too much, stretching the story out too far, I was sure of it; Michael was the storyteller, not me, but Claire was listening and I found it hard to make myself fall quiet.

“It took a few nights, but a wolf showed up. I thought it would circle me, trying to work out whether or not I was worth eating, but it was growling straight away. So I—I just
lunged
, and I think I hit the wolf! But it was moving too quickly and the knife came off, and then I, sort of...”