The Book of Air: Volume Four of the Dragon Quartet (20 page)

But it was just that once, and never again!

NOT BECAUSE YOU COULDN’T . . . BECAUSE YOU WOULDN’T.

Yes. She’d hated how it felt, and the pain it caused Rose, the most Sensitive of the Deep Moor women. She likes even less the dragon’s implication that her ability could betray her, nay, all of them, to the hell-priest. What if she was the cause of his coming to Deep Moor?

It’s too much to think about. Too much worry and confusion. Erde glances up at the bronze mountain beside her and changes the subject. “Dragon, you’ve grown again!”

YES. I FEEL . . . I FEEL . . .

EXPANDED? Water has reappeared in her flock-of-butterflies incarnation, a glimmer of color and motion against the pale, static cityscape.

YES! AS IF ENLARGED BY EVERY BREATH. DO YOU FEEL DIFFERENT, SISTER?

The blue flutter of iridescence shivers and dances. NOT REALLY.

Erde is still contemplating the problem of Brother Guillemo.
Fire’s creature
. It’s a relief to think of the hell-priest that way. To explain her uncanny link to him, the way he can pick her out of a crowd, the way she always senses when he’s near—all this is Fire’s doing, and not some fault, or even evil, inherent in her own nature. She’s glad to be rid of that guilty suspicion. She’s been plagued by it for too long. If it’s Fire’s fault, she can deal with it.

She scrambles to her feet, flushed with new resolve. She plants her hands on her hips, like she’s seen the men do in the practice yard, and gives the much-sought-after Mage City a long hard look. Its scale is daunting. Such topless towers could only be held up by magic. But what she finds most intimidating is the city’s formal blandness, the total lack of welcome. If she were the Mages, she’d never choose to live in this hard, bright, silent place that seems entirely devoid of life.

“There aren’t even any trees!” she exclaims to Luther, who is fending off the ministrations of two particularly earnest hounds. “Not even a blade of grass!”

Luther blinks, still gathering his senses. “Itsa neet cleen place, alri’.”

“It’s too clean, Luther! It looks like nobody lives here!”

“Leest it’s warm agin.” Luther peels off the first of his heavy layers. One of the dogs grabs his sleeve. “Git off me, yu mutt!”

Erde giggles. “She’s trying to get your attention. Look, they’ve all gathered again.”

THEY WISH US TO KEEP FOLLOWING THE TRAIL.

“Oh, my goodness, of course! Dragon, shall we?”

WE CAN LEARN LITTLE BY STANDING STILL.

As large as Earth has become, the wide white streets are larger still. It’s a city made for giants. So where are those giants? Erde notes that the dog pack does not bound ahead on the scent as they had at Deep Moor. Though they seem confident about the direction of the trail, they are less bold, unwilling to lose sight of the dragons and humans, as if at each corner, they are fearful of what might be around it.

After several blocks for each of several changes of direction, Erde realizes that the city is not just huge in vertical scale, its spread is enormous as well.

“A city as big as a kingdom,” she complains to Luther. “The streets are so straight, like the squares on a chessboard. And not a bit of green anywhere! You’d think there’d be a weed or two at least!” She recalls the only other great city she’s been in. “There were lots of weeds in Big Albin.”

Luther rolls his eyes at the featureless walls rising to either side. “Nah, gal. Big Albin’s a reel city.”

“This is a real city. How else could we be walking in it?”

Mid-stride, he taps his foot on the smooth white pavement. “Well, I doan know ’bout dat. But first, it doan look like a reel city. An’ two, doan it stand ta reezin dat if dis is a
magic
city, it otta be sumplace diffrint an’ speshul?”

“Of course, but special can be real, can’t it? Deep Moor was special, a secret, special place, until Fra Guill nosed it out, may he die a thousand deaths and rot in hell for what he’s done!”

“Hey, nah,” admonishes Luther gently. “Speekin’ evil kin bring it to ya.”

“I think my fear of him brings him to me. But you’re right.” Chastened, Erde studies the blank building facades rising like canyon walls about them. “I’ve never seen a really big city, except Big Albin, and it was all in ruins. This isn’t the way a big city’s supposed to look?”

The dog pack races ahead, then circles back to run ahead again. Luther watches them as they approach an intersection several blocks away. “I’m jes’ sayin’ it doan look like eny city I evah bin in. Okay, I ain’ bin ina lotta dem, but lookit dese walls, nah. No doahs or windahs? How yu gonna git inside anya dese places?”

“It could be a fortified city.” Erde’s personal idea of a
wall is tightly laid stone with only the smallest of openings, to hold in the heat and keep out the enemy. “I remember thinking in Big Albin that the dwellings were all full of holes. So many doors and windows! And such big ones. It seemed so . . . exposed, compared to what I’m used to. When you’re from a different time and place, you arrive with all sorts of different definitions and assumptions, remember. I mean, this city is probably as real to the people that live here as Big Albin is to you.”

Luther rakes a hand through the silver forelock that falls nearly to his nose. “Yu t’ink we’ah in sum odda time agin, den?”

“Oh, I should think so. Most assuredly. And a long way from my time, too. That’s why we felt so bad when we got here. The distance.”

“Long wich way? Inta da fuchah, or inta da past?”

Erde considers, then asks the dragons’ opinions.

I CANNOT TRAVEL TO ANY TIME BEFORE MY AWAKENING. WHERE A PORTAL CAN TAKE US IS ANYONE’S GUESS. THE RULES MAY BE DIFFERENT.

Luther shakes his head when Erde relays this. “Dis kint be da past. I ain’ no expert, but I seen pichurs.”

“Then it’s the future.”

“Fuchah to wat?”

“To your time. And mine, too, of course.”

“Dere ain’ no fuchah afta my time, gal. We’re in da lass days.”

Now Erde must tread lightly. Among the Tinkers, Luther is one of the most devout believers in the faith that Gerrasch has been preaching. Her own and the dragons’ understanding of the situation might not completely coincide with Luther’s expectations for the world’s salvation by “the One.”

“Perhaps the very last days will come a bit later than you’ve feared.”

“Wize dat?”

“Because we’re here. So there must be some future at least, after yours.” She doesn’t ask the dragons to weigh in with their ideas on this issue. She’s positive they’ll agree with her, and she knows herself well enough to admit that if she’s sure she’s right, she’ll want to push Luther until he accepts her version over his own. She really must learn to
allow other people their opinions. Only a child, Erde reminds herself, assumes that its perception of the world is the only correct one.

Still
 . . .

No. Erde scolds herself and lets the subject drop.

The dogs have stopped at the intersection up ahead. They’re milling about uncertainly while four of them search out the trail in each of the possible directions. Earth has been lagging behind as usual, so Erde welcomes the chance for him to catch up.

Lingering at the corner, she spots something down the side street: a flick of motion, a dark shape against the bright pavement? It’s gone when she looks for it, leaving only an afterimage of memory.

“That’s odd . . .”

Luther’s looking in the opposite direction. “Watsit, gal?”

“I saw . . . like a person, maybe.”

“Yeah? Weah?”

Erde points, down the pale, empty street. “It’s gone now.”

“Doan worry. I’ll keep my eyes opin.”

She lays a hand on the dragon’s claw as he looms up behind her.

I’m sure I saw something. Some
one.

Earth rumbles comfortingly. Water has hitched a ride between his ivory horns, so that he seems to be wearing a diaphanous crown of iridescence.

You are very quiet, dear dragon
.

I AM TROUBLED.

WE BOTH ARE.

Erde is impressed that Water’s voice can remain so present and coherent when her physical being is so ephemeral.

Why?

Earth answers reluctantly. SAY NOTHING TO LUTHER. DO YOU PROMISE?

Yes, of course. Why? What is it?

OUR SISTER IS HERE.

What? Really? Are you sure?

WE SENSE HER VERY STRONGLY.

How wonderful! Why didn’t you say so? It’s all we’ve hoped for!

YES.

But the dragons are not rejoicing as she would expect them to.

Well, where is she? Let’s go find her!

Instinctively, she turns toward Luther.

SAY NOTHING!

But he’ll want to help!

IT’S NOT THAT SIMPLE. WE KNOW SHE’S HERE, BUT WE DON’T KNOW WHERE.

WORSE THAN THAT. IT’S AS IF SHE’S . . . EVERYWHERE. SO . . . DIFFUSE.

But, Lady Water, so are you, and that doesn’t seem to be a problem
.

Water’s dancing motes draw closer together. IN SHAPE PERHAPS, BUT NOT IN MIND.

Diffuse of mind. Erde tries to imagine it, but while her imagination might be far-ranging, her sense of self is very firmly rooted inside her head. Her thoughts all emanate from a central location. She watches Luther encouraging the dogs to settle on a single trail to follow.

Can you explain this another way?

Water’s shape shifts slightly to reflect her words. HER PRESENCE IS VERY STRONG BUT IT’S NOT . . . ORGANIZED. LIKE THE PARTS OF HER CONSCIOUSNESS HAVE BEEN SPLIT AND SCATTERED.

Oh. Is that so dire? Dreams seem like that sometimes
.

A VERY GOOD ANALOGY.

Down the street, Erde sees another flicker, the slightest bit of moving darkness. She decides to ignore it.

Could she be asleep and you’re listening in on her dreams?

WE DO NOT KNOW.

Earth’s great head sways side to side. He’s unhappy with his own ignorance. But Lady Water, as always, has a plan.

WE’RE WASTING TIME WANDERING ABOUT HERE AT RANDOM. WE SHOULD GO BACK, GATHER THE REST OF OUR FORCES, AND PLAN OUT A LOGICAL SEARCH.

I DO NOT ENTIRELY AGREE, BUT NOW THAT WE’VE BEEN HERE ONCE, IT SHOULD BE EASY ENOUGH TO GET BACK AGAIN.

Erde judges this information safe enough to relay to Luther.

He nods, patting the dogs, who have gathered around him uneasily. “I wudn’t mind sum reinforcemints. Dis place iz creepy.”

“What about the hounds? We can’t desert them.”

“Bring ’em. Blin’ Rachel cud use sum gud dogs like dese.”

As if inspired by his praise, one of the scout dogs announces a trace worth investigating. Her sharp barks bring the rest of the pack racing to confirm her discovery.

“Look, they have the trail again!” Erde cries. “Oh, dragons, let’s stay with them a while longer! Surely we’ll find Rose and the others soon, and if anyone’s hurt, Lord Earth can help them! I know N’Doch could get into trouble away from your sensible and steadying influence. But he’s also quick and resourceful on his own.”

IT’S PAIA THAT WE WORRY ABOUT. SHE IS THE MOST VULNERABLE.

Erde sees she will have to beg. “Please! Just a little while more?”

UNTIL THE NEXT TIME THEY LOSE THE SCENT.

The pack surges ahead, as if held back until the dragons relented. But despite their high excitement, the dogs do not risk getting out of sight. They double back expectantly in twos or threes, with long loping strides and lolling tongues. Erde hurries after them. Yes, the town is creepy, but most of her deepest fears involve darkness, so it’s hard to be too afraid in the middle of an empty street in broad daylight. Still, like the dogs, she glances back. She’s left Luther and the dragons farther behind than she’d intended. She slows to wait for them, and notices a difference in the facades just ahead. Slight, but a point of interest in this bland landscape. One section of wall is slightly recessed, creating a band of shadow and a shallow courtyard. The recess contains a bank of windows, five tall rectangles. Intrigued by the possibility of seeing inside one of these endlessly blank buildings, Erde drifts over. But she finds the windows entirely opaque, a mere outline scratched on the solid stone.

Except for the one in the middle.

Erde moves closer. Here, the featureless gray is less solid, less flat. Like a very dirty window. She rubs the smooth surface gently with her palm, and the view through it does sharpen, but less because she’s cleaned it than as if her action has stirred something within, dissipating a shrouding
fog. A shape appears, the hooded head and shoulders of a man. By the time she’s recognized the silhouetted profile, the figure has turned to stare at her.

Erde shrieks.

It’s the hell-priest. Smiling.

She whirls away blindly, crashing into Luther who has run up at the sound of her scream. She flails in his arms, then backs against him in panic.

“Look! Look! It’s him!”

Luther looks. He sets her aside and goes up to the window to press his nose to the now opaque surface. “Ain’ nobuddy deah, gal. Kin’t see nuttin’. Yu say yu look’d inside heah?”

“Yes! Yes!”

But Luther sees nothing, and Erde begins to doubt herself. When the dragon arrives, she retreats into his shadow to find comfort in his warmth. “Am I imagining things?” But it persists, like a bad smell in the air around her, that horrid intruding presence that makes her feel dirty and violated.

YOU ARE, BUT THEY ARE TRUE THINGS.

“He’s here? Brother Guillemo is here?”

NOT IN BODY, NOT YET. BUT YOU SENSE HIM WATCHING. AWAITING HIS CHANCE.

“Even in the Mage City, he can come after me?”

I AM RECONSIDERING MY ASSUMPTIONS ABOUT THIS PLACE.

The weight of his tone is unusual, even for a dragon somewhat given to gloom. Erde catches her breath. “How so?”

THIS IS CERTAINLY THE CITY THAT I SAW IN DREAMS. BUT IT MAY NOT BE WHAT I THOUGHT IT WAS. WHAT I HOPED FOR.

The dragon’s voice in her mind is so disconsolate that Erde shoves her own terrors aside.
But you must not give up that hope, dear dragon! Never!

PERHAPS WE MUST LEARN TO GO FORWARD EVEN WITHOUT HOPE.

There’s always hope. Probably we haven’t yet come to the part of the city where the Mages live
.