Starlighter (22 page)

After climbing to her feet, Koren caressed the elbowlength white sleeve on her silky gown. Thin, loose-fitting, and smelling of desert flowers, wearing it felt like bathing in perfumed water. A cloak of dark blue draped her shoulders, the hem of which swept an inch or two above the floor. With a clasp holding it together between her sternum and throat, and a loose hood hanging at the back, it was more like a hooded cape, sleeveless yet royal.

She touched an embroidered pair of green eyes at the left breast and ran her finger along the raised threads. So this was a Starlighter’s cloak. Had Cassabrie worn it? Did she have it on when she died?

With her bare foot, she nudged her dirty old shirt lying on the floor next to the open manacles. It was good to shed that smelly old garment, but she had kept her shorts on underneath the dress, just in case she had to run or climb.

Behind the egg, Zena sat cross-legged on the floor, the goat’s hair bag now in her clutches. A half smile adorned her face, making her seem prettier than usual. “I will dispose of that for you.”

“Thank you.” Koren picked the shirt up and set it next to Zena. A rumble stirred in her belly. When had she last eaten anything? As she set a hand on her stomach, she offered Zena a polite nod. “Where shall I go for my meals?”

Picking up the dirty tunic, Zena rose to her feet and adjusted the bag’s strap at her shoulder. “You will dine
in the presence of the prince. It is now early morning, so breakfast will be served soon. But the Starlighter slept only a little while. May I suggest another nap?”

“No. I think I’m fine. But I would like some water.”

“As you wish.” A hint of sarcasm spiced Zena’s reply. “Perhaps the Starlighter would enjoy a massage to loosen her muscles.”

Koren tried to read Zena’s expression. That was the first hint that she might be annoyed at the new arrangement. Koren was tempted to say, “Yes, a massage would be wonderful, and a palm branch to fan me, if you please,” but putting more tension on Zena’s already strained civility wouldn’t be a good idea. Instead, she offered a curtsy. “You are very kind, but that won’t be necessary. And I will be glad to help you prepare the meal.”

Zena’s tone relaxed. “There is no need.”

Koren looked around at the wall of flaming fountains. It was time to go and search for answers. Natalla was either dead or in shackles, possibly awaiting transfer to the cattle camps. Maybe a record of her capture existed somewhere, a log book for reassigned slaves. “So may I explore the Basilica now?”

“You may.” Zena slid open the floor panel and turned off the fountains. As the fire died away, she nodded at the egg. “Before you leave, does the prince have anything further to say?”

As Koren glanced between the egg and Zena, a new realization dawned. Zena’s only means of direct communication with the prince must be through a Starlighter. Earlier, the prince had spoken to Zena through Koren’s lips, and he
had given her commands with words that only the dragon or Zena would know, thereby convincing her that the true prince was speaking.

Koren drilled her stare into the egg. What about now? Could she imitate the prince and issue commands to Zena? Or would that be an improper means of deception?

The dragon’s voice passed through her lips, again unbidden. “Zena, the Starlighter should be on her way now. When she has departed, I will speak to you in the old manner.”

“Very well, my prince.” Zena touched the bag hanging at her side. “The old way is much more to my liking.”

Koren eyed the bag. Obviously Zena carried something within that helped her talk to the dragon. There would be no way to fake a command as long as Zena could learn the truth.

After giving another curtsy, Koren strode beyond the boundary of the egg’s circular incubator and hurried out of the chamber.

With sunlight passing through stained-glass windows above and all around, the interior came alive with streams of vibrant colors, painting skewed copies of the designs in the windows—dragons of all shapes and sizes; feasting pedestals covered with slaughtered elk and sheep; and various balls of fiery light, some white and some bright yellow.

Slowing her pace, she stared at the largest ball of light, a white one in the center of a ceiling window pane. It hovered at the left of the largest of several dining pedestals, as if it were ready to devour the meat set before it. What could it
be? A representation of a dead ancestor? A deity? Might the dead animal be a sacrifice?

Koren stopped at the edge of a precipice. The dragon meeting hall spread out below, and the book still lay open on the pedestal, but now the fire was no longer burning. From her vantage point directly above the stage, the dragons’ seats stretched out in front of her from left to right. Two dragons rested in the back row, one flicking his tail at the design in the window behind him, which depicted a human lugging a cart with two dead goats within.

Although the window was far away, sunlight outlined the human shape clearly, allowing Koren to study the man’s slavish strife. How old was this window? The Basilica had been constructed centuries ago. The inscription on the cornerstone proved that. Since the wall surrounding this window looked just as old, and the glass itself seemed ancient, the design meant that humans had been slaves here for a very long time.

Yet the appearance of the young man—Jason—in the egg contradicted this evidence. He knew about the dragon planet, and he had asked if she was one of the Lost Ones.

She let those words trickle off her tongue. “The Lost Ones.” If the old fables were true, then captured humans would be considered lost by those they left behind. But was he real? Could he have been a dream, a reflection of her hopeful mind? Something the dragon conjured? Might she be just a scupper, a way for this strange egg to leak its desires and have its schemes carried out?

More dragons filed in, some shuffling, some beating their wings to scoot along the floor. Most were males,
their longer spines and glimmering scales revealing their gender, but a few females dotted the crowd. The females were especially easy to see when they flew around at night. Their glittering yellow pupils looked like fireflies hovering in the darkness.

As they gathered, the dragons’ low voices sounded like rocks grinding together. Koren picked out a few phrases spoken in the dragon tongue—“unusual trial,” “earliest I can remember,” and “the wicked girl,” but she couldn’t connect them together. Could they be talking about Natalla? Might this trial be about her?

Koren searched for Arxad, but, unless he somehow stayed hidden behind the other males, he wasn’t there. Without him, Natalla was surely doomed.

S
oon, Fellina and Xenith came in, both glancing from side to side. They appeared nervous, as if they had not been in this room before.

As soon as all were seated, a great flurry of wings sounded from above. Magnar glided down through a hole in the ceiling and settled on the stage in front of the pedestal.

The dragon crowd settled to a hush. Magnar flipped the book’s page and spoke a deep, thunderous command. “Bring the accused to the witness altar.”

From the door on the left side, a dragon walked in, shuffling on its hind legs while using his front claw to push a dirty little girl. With her hands bound at her waist and a heavy chain connecting iron fetters around her ankles, she could barely walk.

Koren leaned forward to get a better look. It was Natalla.

When they arrived at a bench at the side of the pedestal,

the dragon shoved Natalla to her knees and unlocked the fetters. She folded her hands and set them on the bench, weeping.

The bell rope dangled about thirty steps to Koren’s right, and for a moment she considered climbing down and trying to help Natalla. No—it would be better to watch and wait for the results. There was no sense in revealing her presence now.

Magnar boomed again. “One of our priests requested to act as counsel for the accused, as is the right of his office. Let him come now and stand at her side.”

Another dragon entered, but this one came from a door at the right end.

“Arxad,” Koren whispered.
He’ll help Natalla.

The crowd murmured. New phrases punctuated the hushed voices—“doomsayer,” “human lover,” and “speaks his mind.” But soon the buzz died away.

Glancing between Magnar and the gathered dragons, Arxad approached the pedestal and bowed.

“Have you had sufficient time to prepare the escapee’s defense?” Magnar asked.

Arxad blinked. “I have. The case is quite simple.”

“Indeed. I know.” Magnar spread out a wing and gestured toward the crowd. “As we all know. But these noble dragons have joined us as witnesses, I suspect, not to see the routine execution of an escaped slave, but to learn why a priest would risk his reputation to defend her.”

Arxad nodded at the book. “You know the law as well as I. Having counsel is her right, and it is my obligation to offer it.”

Magnar touched the open page with the tip of his wing. “It is safe to dispense with details when the end result will always be the same. An escaped slave is an escaped slave. No counsel can alter this fact, and you have not answered this obligation in all your years as priest.”

A scowl formed on Arxad’s face. “While he lay burning to death at her side, her brother begged me to fulfill my duty. I do this because of my office, great Magnar, not because I have any fondness for humans. The law commands that I honor the request, and I must obey the law.” He lowered his head and his voice with it. “You know I am not like most priests.”

As another murmur arose, Magnar chuckled. “That you are not, Arxad. About the uniqueness of your character, we can agree. You are both dependable and annoying.”

Arxad kept his head low. “Since we are in agreement, may we now proceed?”

Koren swallowed through a lump. Stephan really was dead! And Natalla would be next. What could her former master do to stop her execution? He didn’t sound enthused about his counselor role at all. Would he just go through the motions out of duty and watch her die at the stake?

“The case is simple,” Magnar said, now addressing the crowd. “This slave, assigned to Arxad as a housekeeper, fled into the wilderness with the aid of her brother. It seems that she learned about an upcoming Promotion, and, not wanting to leave her soft position and fearing the unknown, she opted to escape. My guard, the honorable Reeloft, found them while patrolling the perimeter. When the brother drew a sword, Reeloft killed him, as any guard must do when faced with such a weapon. Because
of the escapee’s unprovoked attack, Reeloft turned to slay the girl as well, as is allowed by law.”

Magnar gave Arxad a sideways glance before continuing. “For reasons unknown to this court, Arxad arrived on the scene and prevented the summary execution, appealing to section fourteen, which gives a priest the right to intercede and request a formal trial.

“Reeloft, of course, acquiesced, and that is why we are all gathered here.” Magnar looked at Arxad again, this time keeping his stare in place. “Wasting the time of the court and all who are present.” After taking a deep breath, Magnar nodded. “You may proceed with your defense, and I trust that it will be a quick one.”

Natalla looked up at Arxad. She smiled weakly through her streaming tears, but Arxad didn’t bother to make eye contact. He simply returned Magnar’s nod and spoke in an even tone. “Great Magnar, as a priest who takes his obligations seriously, I not only offer my counsel to this wretched slave, I do so without prejudice and without heeding the pressures that befall someone who undertakes an unpopular task. Although the rigor that I employ and the thoroughness with which I will defend this creature will likely bring ridicule and persecution, I cannot simply offer a pretense of counsel, for that would be worse than not giving counsel at all. It would be a sham, a black mark on my integrity. It would be a hypocritical hoax to this girl who clings to her last shred of hope—a tenuous hope that a dragon, a member of a race that enslaved her, roasted her brother before her very eyes, and now threatens to apply the same fiery breath to her, might stoop so low as to stand in front of others of his kind and speak for her cause.”

Arxad turned toward Natalla and set the tip of his wing under her chin. She smiled again, but he offered no smile in return. “She is human, to be sure. Most see her execution as nothing more than the slaughter of a goat. You see her body as just another carcass that can be butchered and sold for consumption. Yet, as her intercessor, I see her as a creature with an immortal soul.”

As the loudest buzz yet drowned out Arxad’s voice, Magnar shouted, “You go too far, Arxad! With that statement, you violate the law yourself. You risk arrest and prosecution.”

Louder murmurs sounded. Fellina cried out, “Arxad, no!”

Arxad turned away from Natalla, and his voice rose above the others, loud and commanding. “Section three, article seven, states that a counselor for the defense must take the role of the defendant, and as such I am merely stating her beliefs and the beliefs of every human on this planet. The words you hear are not my own, but the cries of every slave that toils under the burden of our collective fiery breath. ‘We have souls! We were not created to be enslaved to anyone but our maker. We have the right to be free!’”

“Arxad!” Magnar shouted. “You speak blasphemy! The fire spirit endows only dragons with that right.”

“Be that as it may,” Arxad continued in a loud voice, “as a counselor for a human, I speak as a human would, so I am not bound to the laws concerning the speech of a dragon. I offer her defense in her words, not my own. When I step back into my office as priest, then you may examine my words however you wish and prosecute me accordingly.”

Magnar scowled. “Take care, priest. I might just grant that request.”

As the murmur died away again, Arxad turned to the crowd. “This slave, Natalla by name, learned that she received the honor of a Promotion. As you might have heard, rumors have been rampant among the humans as to what Promotion entails. Some believe that promoted humans are eaten by dragons because they are a delicacy that we love but are unwilling to consume frequently due to their value as slaves. We cull the herd of the less bright and able, thereby maintaining a healthier genetic pool, while at the same time enabling us to serve a favorite meal to a privileged few.”

Chuckles erupted from the seated dragons. Koren searched for the source. Smiles appeared on many of the younger dragons, but the older ones wore dour expressions.

Arxad mirrored the smiles. “Yes, yes, I know how absurd that sounds, but a girl barely into her pubescent years cannot discern between such fairy tales and reality. Natalla’s flight was not the result of rebellion against dragon sovereignty; it was because of fear, fear that the creatures who threatened to scourge her back because of any perceived lack of skill or effort were now ready to devour her flesh.

“You see, Natalla had just scored poorly on exams, and news of her Promotion came in the wake of that disappointment. The fairy tales haunted her. She would soon appear on a dragon’s dinner pedestal, and the thought of being ground to pulp by a dragon’s teeth drove her to the brink of insanity. Again, hers was not a crime of rebellion; it was an instinctive response to a stimulus.

“The law states that a human escapee is to be tried for rebellion, and the punishment is death. On the justice of this law, we can all agree. But the law says nothing regarding the fate of a girl who has merely flown in fear of death. She is clearly not a rebel. If you examine her service record, you will find it free of any formal reprimands. Her conduct has been exemplary. She is a model slave.”

Arxad again lifted Natalla’s chin. This time he gave her a smile. “If you believe Natalla is nothing more than a beast of burden, then you must acquit, for as a beast, she merely responded to instinct and ran from those she perceived to be butchers.”

Releasing her again, he turned back to the watching dragons. “Yet, if you believe that this little girl is something more than a beast, you still must acquit, for as a creature who bears a soul, she deserves more than the status of a stupid beast whose death no one will remember. If, however, you find her guilty and proceed to melt her skin, roast her body, and cast her blackened bones to the forsaken valley, you will confirm in every human mind in this land that dragons are cruel and heartless, that dragons are bestial, that dragons are without the slightest shred of compassion…” He turned to Magnar and looked straight at him. “And that we are the ones without souls.”

Koren leaped for joy, but a new eruption of shouts volleyed toward the stage. “Blasphemy! Heretic! This is a priest?” Yet nearly half the audience stayed quiet, especially the older ones who merely whispered among themselves.

Magnar met Arxad’s stare and waited for the crowd to settle before replying. “Your skill in speaking in the human’s place is most impressive. If not for my knowledge
of your own exemplary record in loyalty to me, as well as my experience in seeing you as an actor on this very stage, I might be persuaded to agree with the accusations of heresy. You have played a very convincing role.”

Arxad bowed. “Even my role as a supplicant for the defendant is offered in your service, great Magnar, for I trust that you would want nothing less than strict adherence to the law, and only the most skillful and enthusiastic fulfillment of my duties to you and to our codes of conduct.”

As Arxad settled to a seated position next to Natalla, Magnar mumbled, “Yes. Quite.” He then surveyed the crowd, his brow dipping lower with every passing second. Then in a rumbling, low tone, he continued. “Your eloquence, however, is no replacement for evidence. If this slave were truly fleeing for her life, she would not have waited for the dead of night, nor would she have enlisted an accomplice. She did, in fact, conspire to do this deed in a premeditated fashion. She caused dissension and fostered rebellion by leading others to follow her, and in so doing, brought about her own brother’s death.”

Raising his voice, he pointed a claw at Natalla. “These are not the deeds of a frightened little girl. They are the deeds of a rebellious wench who would likely repeat her crimes if given the chance, and perhaps increase them by gathering others into her rebellious fold.”

Natalla winced and turned her head away from Magnar. Koren edged toward the rope, ready to leap to her aid if the worst happened.

Magnar turned back to the dragon crowd. “Only execution will show these vermin that we will not allow
them to destroy our survival efforts. Such acts are tantamount to slaying us as we sleep, for without their labors we would all soon perish.”

“I rise to counter,” Arxad called out in an even tone as he rose to his haunches. “You are projecting motivations on the defendant that have been proven false. She has shown no aggression toward dragons, and her service record is spotless. Convict her of escaping, if you will, but adding a charge of attempted murder of a dragon is not a rational act.”

Magnar glared at him. “I withdraw that statement and rest my prosecution on the simple fact that the girl escaped with an accomplice. She is guilty. So say we all.” He closed the book with a thud. “Now for the sentencing.”

Koren gasped. This couldn’t be happening!

“I rise to call for a vote.” Arxad turned to the audience for a moment, scanning the dragons before refocusing on Magnar. “I realize that this is a formality, but I must complete my duty. The accused is allowed to see which individuals are numbered with those who condemn her.”

Magnar gave him a nod. “All those who agree that the slave is guilty of escape and should be sentenced according to the dictates of our laws, raise your right wing to signify.”

Nearly every dragon raised a wing. Koren riveted her stare on two dragons who kept their wings down: Fellina and Xenith. But would they be enough to stop an execution?

“We have the requisite percentage, Arxad. I am sure we all appreciate the thoroughness of your defense.” Magnar nodded toward the door Arxad had entered. “Having fulfilled your obligation, you are now excused.”

“Very well.” Arxad lifted his head and shuffled toward the door. Fellina squeezed between two dragons in front of her and followed. Xenith trailed them, her head hanging low.

As they neared the exit, Magnar set his claws on the closed book. “We will not force her to suffer the ultimate penalty and be cooked at the stake. Let her be tied to the bars outside these walls, and Maximus will incinerate her.”

Natalla buried her face in her hands. One of the nearby dragons grabbed her wrist and jerked her to her feet.

Koren bolted toward the rope, jumped out, and grasped it with both hands. As she climbed down, her weight pulled the bell. A loud gong sounded, and she shot back toward the upper level. Grimacing, she continued a painful slide down the fibrous rope, enduring the up-and-down ride and the earsplitting bell. When the floor came close enough, she jumped and sprinted toward the gathering of dragons.