Dragonoak: The Complete History of Kastelir (31 page)

Claire tipped her head, and Kravt went on to say, “What a time we have had! Already, yesterday, there is another little friend, they are visiting us. I am thinking—hm. Hair, eyes. Both the same,” they said, gesturing towards me. “Then, perhaps... ?”

“Michael!” I said, catching on after enough vague gesturing. The other pane rolled their eyes, despite going to lengths to pretend they weren't listening. “That's my brother, Michael.”

Kravt rubbed their chin. “Michael, yes, Michael is very...”

There were any number of words that could've been used to complete that sentence, but I could see Kravt had something particular in mind. They snapped their fingers, searching for the word, but when they came up blank, they leant over to their companion and hurriedly murmured something in Svargan.

The other pane huffed, inevitably relenting.

“
Curious
,” they said, not taking their eyes off the two pane playing cards.

“Curious! Very curious.” The pane leaning against their spear was promptly dragged over by Kravt. They were far from short, but the cheerier pane wrapped an arm around their shoulders with ease. They struggled, for all of a second, then returned to sulking in their partner's grasp. “This one, I am sorry for—most unwelcoming! I am thinking, if we are little friends, Ayr is like my brother, or sister, hm?”

Ayr snarled, elbowing Kravt in the side. They only chuckled, letting out a note deep enough to fill the gaps between the mountains.

“You get on well enough for it,” I said, earning a sharp look from Ayr. “I'm Rowan, by the way. And I'm not really sure
why
I'm here, honestly.”

“Ightham,” Claire said, by way of introducing herself. “I was accompanying Queen Kidira. I thought I might show my friend the
sca-isjin
.”

Scoffing, Ayr ducked out of Kravt's grasp and straightened out the front of their shirt.

“It's always the same. You visitors coming up here, wanting to nose around. None of you thinking about the damage you might do,” they said, batting Kravt's hand away when they reached for them a second time. “Just here to gawk, then you'll go back to your flat lands and shun us all over again.”

I wanted to say that it wasn't true, that neither Claire nor myself would ever turn our back on a pane, but I knew Ayr was justified in what they said. Claire said something in Svargan which did nothing to temper them, and I knew that assuring Ayr that
I
wasn't like
that
was the wrong thing to do; enough humans were to make it a problem.

“Ayr, look. These little friends, they...
your
feet are bigger. They will crush nothing. Come, come,” Kravt said, pushing the gate to and ushering us inside. “It is fine. Go, please.”

I took an uneasy step forward, expecting Ayr to stop us. They made no movement. They didn't even look at as we passed into the
sca-isjin
. Once we were inside, it wasn't any easier to work out what, exactly, it was: the field was laid in a grid, dirt paths surrounding patches of grass with giant stone bulbs protruded from the ground.

Watering cans the size of my torso were scattered along the edges, and above, a net protected the bizarre garden from passing birds, throwing a criss-cross of shadows across the ground. Three pane worked within the
sca-isjin
, one of them with stubs of horns no longer than my finger. They crowded around Queen Kidira, who heard each one of them out, and I followed Claire, wondering if any of this was supposed to have started making sense to me yet.

“I don't get it,” I said, having stared at one of the stone bulbs until my vision blurred. “Why do the pane have a garden full of rocks?”

Claire took some amusement in my frustration and crouched down in front of one of the rocks, waiting for me to do the same. It was far from small – if I tried, I would've only just been able to wrap my arms around it – and intricately decorated in the same way that leaves and bark are. The patterns flowed and swirled, not caring where they came from or where they ended.

“It's not a rock. It's a... we don't have a word for it, because we don't need one,” Claire explained. “Think of it like a hen sitting on a nest, keeping the eggs warm.”

She'd already lost me, and I think she could tell.

“They come from dragon teeth. There are... seeds, of a sort, inside. They grow into these protective shells. Pane eggs are notoriously difficult to hatch. They're soft-shelled, and barely any of them will hatch without some manner of protection.”

I stood up, stepped back and immediately stopped myself, lest I wander into another of the—whatever they were.

“Pane,” I said. “You're telling me that they're
growing
pane in here?”

“
Hatching
,” Claire corrected me. “The pane have always had a meaningful relationship with the dragons. Scripture states that they were once part of the same creature.”

I opened my mouth, closed it, and frowned at the not-rocks. There was a pane in there. Right now, there was a pane growing inside one of the rocky shells, no bigger than a newborn goat. I became convinced that they were going to burst open at any moment, and out a pane hatchling would stumble, covered in a thick, slimy layer of something I didn't recognise.

“Kouris said, um...” I began, making a shaky effort to understand how it worked. “She said that pane—don't need a partner?”

I scratched the back of my neck, glancing away, but Claire wasn't fazed by the question.

“Correct. They dislodge eggs on a yearly basis, regardless of any activity, or a lack thereof.”

“Dislodge eggs... ?”

“From their throats,” she clarified.

I stared at her, wide-eyed, and she laughed awkwardly under her breath, as though the fact that it was a strange topic to be discussing had only just dawned on her.

“The night Kouris wasn't there. The night with the axewoman. She was... well.”

“Oh.
Oh
. I—I guess she had an excuse, then...”

I felt a little uncomfortable, talking about something that seemed so unique to the pane with another human, but Claire said nothing more. We continued wandering through the
sca-isjin
, and I remained close to Claire's side, not wanting to risk knocking one of the stone-like shells over. Their roots run deep, but to me, it was as though they were precariously perched in the dirt, eggs in and of themselves.

“Ightham! Come, come, I am needing you to translate,” Akela called from the other side of the
sca-isjin
. Queen Kidira had taken to pacing the length of the strange garden, but Akela was surrounded by pane who didn't understand a word she was saying. With a quick glance my way, Claire obliged, heading over to lend Akela her aid.

I remained where I was, trying not to stare at Queen Kidira. Averting my gaze did nothing to stop her coming closer, and I didn't dare to step away, to start circling the
sca-isjin
of my own accord.

“You're friends with Kouris, then?” she asked after spending an unnecessary long time staring at me.

All I could think of was the soldier who'd dragged the necromancer from his home, and how she'd claimed that it was by decree of Queen Kidira. I was convinced that she'd see right through me, convinced she'd
know
; my throat closed up tight, and all I could do was nod weakly.

“If not for her, I wouldn't have to handle such matters.” At best, Queen Kidira seemed mildly irritated. “I would be in Isin, attending to a host of other problems.”

I wanted to assure her that she was doing good work, important work – someone had to ensure that the pane were being heard – but she knew that. She knew the worth of what she was doing, else she'd never have left the castle.

Instead, I started blurting out, “Kouris, she's really—”

Thankfully, Queen Kidira's stare pierced through me, turning the words to dust in my mouth.

She turned away and continued pacing the garden, hardly concerned with me at all. I hurried to cross the
sca-isjin
, and said, “I'm going find Michael,” in a low voice to Claire.

She nodded, and Akela said, “Northwood! Later, you are coming back, and I am buying a drink that is knocking out a dragon!”

I waved goodbye to Akela, keeping my head low as I passed the Queen, and made my way back to Kyrindval. As much as I'd wanted to stay with Claire, I succumbed to a palpable sort of unease around Queen Kidira. No matter what else Michael might've been, being around him was familiar and safe.

I found him at the centre of Kyrindval, surrounded by pane, young and old. Time and time again, he'd started project after project, book after book, but I'd never seen him so utterly enthralled. The pane were talking about their surroundings, their routines, and still Michael couldn't begin to take in enough of what they were saying. I weaved through the crowd of pane and took my place next to him, glad to see him so focused, for once.

“Ah—this is Rowan,” he said, sounding pleased to see me. “She's my younger sister.”

Or just pleased to have something unusual to show off to the pane.

There was a general murmur and nodding of heads, and I tried to smile at everyone in the crowd.

“We were just on our way down to the amphitheatre, actually,” he said, urging the party along.

“The what?” I asked.

“The
what—
” he repeated, scoffing. “The amphitheatre, Rowan! Goodness, the pane recognise the word and half of them can't speak Mesomium.”

I followed my brother, feeling silly for not knowing what an amphitheatre was once we reached it; it was the crescent of steps Claire and I had had breakfast upon the morning before. Not that I understood its purpose much better for knowing its name. All we did was sit around and talk, not getting much use out of it all.

The group would break apart and then reform, pane leaving to go about their business, others joining us. For lunch, we were taken to a tavern with chairs large enough for me and Michael to comfortably share, treated to ale out of mugs I could've drowned in. The rest of the day was taken up by endless sight-seeing. We went to the library, where Michael decided he needed to know each and every book by name and feel. He stared down at the pages, frustrated, words not meaning anything to him. A few of the pane translated passages here and there, and I found it difficult to believe that Michael couldn't understand it; to me, all writing was more or less the same.

At sun-down, I got it into my head that I might be allowed to call it a day and head back to the cabin, but Michael grabbed the scruff of my collar when he saw me drifting away.

“Where do you think you're going? You missed last night's entertainment – it was incredible, by the way – but Kouris can go one night without you. Come on—to the fire pit!” he declared, tugging me along.

The fire was already burning, light thrown in all directions, making the shadows of pane like those of mountains. Seating was far from formal: the pane gathered in groups around the fire pit, leaving an empty ring around the edge of it, in order to give the performers enough room. I thought better of cutting through it, and instead stepped carefully between the pane. Sat as they were, many of them were the same height as me, though I still had to push myself up on tiptoes to see properly.

Michael found a place for himself, called over by a few pane he'd met that morning, and I looked around, not hesitating because I was uncomfortable approaching anyone, but because I knew I'd be welcome in whatever spot I chose. Akela was on the other side of the fire, laughing into a stein the size of her head, and I was so focused on trying to pick Queen Kidira out of the crowd that I missed Claire waving at me, at first.

The pane next to her shuffled to the side, and I squeezed in between them, wrapping my arms around my knees so that I didn't take up too much space. Claire's shoulder pressed against mine, and she didn't seem to mind it. Just to be close to her was to know that she was happier than she'd been in a long time, dressed in pane clothing, sat in the heart of Kyrindval. She must've held fond memories of her time in the mountains.

“You hurried off, earlier,” she said, “Was something the matter?”

There was a buzz of conversation around the fire pit; we weren't supposed to be paying attention to anything in particular, yet.

“No, no. It's just...” I glanced around before I spoke, and though I couldn't see Queen Kidira, I decided that she'd be with Akela, if she was there at all. “The Queen. I don't really know how to act around her. And after everything with—
you know
, as well as Kouris...”

I rested my chin on my knees, staring into the fire. Claire kept her eyes on me, though she didn't reply immediately, and I felt a strange sensation in my chest, like my heart was gravel and I was fighting to keep it clumped together. I'd gone from having everyone know what I was to my secret being held by a select few; and if they willed it, it would sift through their fingers, easy as that.

Claire didn't say anything about necromancy. I knew she couldn't, but the silence on the subject left me sore, and I felt at odds with how happy I'd been to see her, moments ago.

“You should speak to Kouris about this all. She's rather fond of you, you realise,” Claire said, “—yrval.”

“I don't—” I turned away from the fire, and saw that Claire was smiling. “I don't know what that means. I know what an yrval
is
, but I still don't... get it.”

There was a rumble of, “Ah, yes, excuse, little friends,” as two pane stepped over us to get to their friends, and the pane beside me got to his feet, hurrying after them. There was a space in the crowd but still, I didn't shuffle over.

“Darling,” Claire said, after a thoughtful pause.

“What?”

“Yrval. It's used as an endearment,” she explained. “In this context,
darling
might be a faithful translation.”

I thought back to the way Claire had furrowed her brow when she saw me and Kouris talking for the first time in the tavern and bowed my head forward, laughing softly. It didn't feel right. Claire and I were surrounded by half of Kyrindval, and though there was an empty space next to me, Kouris wasn't allowed to fill it. I'd spent so long ostracised by my village, and now I was experiencing the other side of it.