Starlighter (6 page)

Koren trembled. The thought of a huge bear gnawing on her limbs curdled her stomach. At least the dragons never did that. Of course, some of the meaner boys would swear they had seen a dragon eat a human, but they were just trying to scare the girls.

She continued down the corridor until it widened into a dead-end chamber about half the size of the dragons’ dining area, barely adequate for Madam Orley and the three girls. Their thick mats lay side by side against the adjacent wall, and a desk sat against the opposite wall. The girls took turns at the rickety pinewood desk, studying their evening lessons—mathematics, geography, politics, theater, and history. With their labors requiring mainly physical exertion, the lessons often seemed meaningless. From time to time, however, a human would be chosen as an accountant or an engineer, so the dragons trained all the younger slaves, hoping they could identify the most intellectually talented humans for further education.

Koren sat on the desk’s stool and touched the history book, open to their latest lesson on heroic dragons of
the past. The dragon in the drawing, barely visible in the room’s dimmed lantern, was a gigantic red beast named Magnar. With wings larger than most, he was the very dragon who once flew to the alien world and brought back the first humans. Now, older than anyone in the world, he presided over the Separators. The few living humans who had ever seen him said he was still as powerful as ever.

Koren, of course, had been in the Separators’ Basilica, but only when it was time for a new Assignment. The dragons always made her drink a syrupy potion before taking her there, and that kept her in a daze throughout the process. Only the faintest images remained—a fire, a book on a pedestal, and dragons shouting in their gruff language, sounding like bidders at the Traders’ auction. It was all so strange.

Koren closed the book sharply. These stories often didn’t match those told by Madam Orley or the poems sung by Tamminy, the dragon bard. Who could tell what was true and what wasn’t? Maybe Magnar? If he was that old, surely he would know every story in this world’s human history.

She stooped and poured water from a pitcher to a basin they kept near a corner. With the lantern hanging close by, her reflection in the basin looked pale as it wiggled within the ripples. Still, her red hair was obvious, the same red hair that gave her such an advantage over most of the other slaves. The dragons considered it a sign of great intelligence and talent, and her green eyes added to the effect.

“A pair of emeralds shining under a cap of fiery brilliance,” the Trader had called out again and again as he
paraded her in the courtyard. “She will be a trophy slave for the noblest dragon in the land.”

Koren remembered trying to look intelligent that day, though it was hard to keep from glaring at the Trader, a human male who kissed up to the dragons in a nauseating manner. He would be quick to betray any of his kind who tried to escape to the wilderness or anyone who dared to speak against dragon authority. He wasn’t a Trader; he was a traitor.

After washing her hands and splashing her face, she dried off with a hand towel from a shelf built into the wall. A full bath could wait until tomorrow.

Sitting on her mat, she crossed her legs and leaned against the wall. Soon, Natalla would come in. Since she was only twelve, the youngest of Madam’s orphans, her exams were easier than those of her fourteen-year-old sister, Petra, enabling her to finish early.

Koren looked at the weak flame in the wall-mounted lantern. It illuminated another built-in shelf that held their meager clothes—a thin nightgown for each slave and a single pair of boots in case any of them had to venture into the swamp. They were too big for Natalla and too small for Madam, so Koren and Petra were always chosen to wade out among the serpents to harvest the swamp grains.

She pulled a nightgown from the shelf, sat again on her mat, and straightened her long skirt over her legs. She had shorts on underneath, but it made sense to wear both. The skirt’s warm material always felt good during the cool months.

Sighing, she gazed at the lantern again. Now was a good time to make up a prayer song. She had listened to the girls singing anti-dragon chants all day. As usual, they were funny, especially the one Natalla loved.

Dragon, dragon, stinky breath,

Choke on bones, and choke to death.

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 work 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.”