Fire: Tales of Elemental Spirits (35 page)

ʺNo, Ern, you stay here,ʺ said Dag. ʺChort has to grow up some day, and Ern's not even a cadet.ʺ

So Eled and Gham strolled away and Chort, after a moment, sidled up, looking at me in a sidly kind of way, and then asked Dag what seemed to me a completely harmless question about the grooming mixture he used on Hereyta. Dag answered calmly and Chort sidled away again. Eled and Gham came back with a plate of sweet buns the kitchen had given them to make them go away, and we all went on eating. I would have started noticing more after that anyway, but by the next day when the Academy started to fill up again for the next term it got so obvious that a lot of people turned to Dag for answers about dragons that I didn't have to.

But I was totally not expecting it when one of the tutors came to our table at breakfast on the fourth day. The cadets all shot to their feet so I stood up too. Facing us was a tall, white-haired, straight-backed, commanding old fellow in the red and blue of the seriously senior higher-ups. He let everyone scramble to his or her feet and come to some kind of dazed, early-in-the-morning, not-expecting-any-ordeals order, but he had the sort of presence that makes you feel after the fact that whatever you've actually done, it's the right thing. So the line of half-stupefied third-year cadets was transformed under this man's eyes into a crack troop, alert and ready for anything. Ralas has a quieter version of it. It makes you like her even more at the same time as it makes her even more intimidating.

Then he said, as politely as if he were the cadet and we were the tutors, ʺ
Singla
Dag, please introduce me to your brother, as I have not yet had that privilege.ʺ

Dag was less flustered than the others, maybe because big impressive in-charge types were all, to him, both inclusively and individually responsible for Hereyta's presence on the First Flight list. The higher you were in the hierarchy the more responsible, and this guy looked pretty high. He answered promptly enough though, and maybe only I could hear the edge in his voice: ʺ
Zedak
Storkhal, this is my brother, Ern. Ern, I wish to present you to
Zedak hri do lun
Storkhal.ʺ

I made sure I had my visitor's ribbon on straight, but the
zedak
didn't look like someone who'd be ironic before he laid you out. I didn't know how to address a tutor, let alone a
zedak,
which were the really important ones, and I had no idea what the
hri do lun
meant, but the way everyone was behaving, it probably meant ʺgod.ʺ Oh, well, I thought. ʺ
Zedak
Storkhal, my honour is already in your hands; anything else I can give you is yours.ʺ

ʺYour honour is gift enough,ʺ this scary old man said, which is the correct response, of course, but he said it as if he meant it. I tried to stand straighter. ʺBut I would ask you for something else. I have heard that you have an ointment that heals old aches, and I, like Hereyta, have a sore shoulder, and I would beg a little of your ointment if I could.ʺ

If he had said ʺthe Academy is being dissolved tomorrow and all the dragons set loose to go feralʺ it couldn't have been more astonishing. Around me I felt everyone turning to stone, and tables all over the hall were falling silent. The
zedak
was standing a few feet away from us and he had a carrying voice.

Back home I was used to giving people stuff for things like aching shoulders. But I was used to having them ask me quietly, and offhand, as if they weren't really asking. I was not used to being addressed like an audience was watching, which there was. And I wasn't at home either. But Ralas had drummed it into me that you were responsible for the stuff you gave people, and you did not automatically give them what they asked for. You asked questions first. I should have been saying ʺyes, sir, no, sir, how high do I jump, sir?ʺ and I was going to interrogate him instead.

At least I remembered to call him sir. ʺHonoured sir, I must ask you about the pain in your shoulder, because the liniment may not be the best choice. Sir.ʺ

He looked positively amused—and still perfectly at his ease. That made one of him, in the length and breadth of the food halls. ʺAsk away, respected brother of
Singla
Dag.ʺ

So I did, and at the end I took a deep breath and said, ʺIt's not the liniment you want, sir, butʺ—here patting my pockets; I'd brought all the stuff I knew how to use with me to the Academy because I couldn't help it, it would be like leaving your trousers behind, but most of it was upstairs in Dag's room under the bed—ʺbut delor leaf. Ah.ʺ At the same time, I wouldn't feel like myself if my pockets weren't lumpy, and one of the lumps had just proved to be a little cloth wallet I knew contained, among other things, delor leaf. I was fascinated to observe that my hands weren't shaking as I unfolded it. I don't suppose the
zedak
was really ten feet tall but I felt mouse-sized as I went round the table to give him his leaves. ʺSir. That's, uh, about three days' worth. Steep it in boiling water. Sir.ʺ

ʺI rejoice in your assistance,ʺ said the
zedak
gravely, and turned and left the hall. There was a sigh as big and gusty as a dragon's when everyone started breathing again. I went back to my place and fell into my chair. Dag took one look around and said, ʺErn, we're late. Come on.ʺ I didn't say, ʺWhat do you mean, late? Late for what?ʺ I scrambled gratefully to my feet, grabbed what was easily grabbable from my plate for Sippy, who had missed the excitement by scrounging for crumbs under the table, and both of us followed Dag.

We were heading straight for the
hsa.
After a few minutes I risked glancing at Dag. He was smiling faintly. He noticed me looking and looked back. ʺI don't know what's in Firstarrow's mind, but whatever it was he was pleased with you. I know you're not a cadet or anything but people gibber and fall over when he appears from nowhere like that, which is what he does. You can see where he got his nickname. Although there's a story that when he was a zero level soldier waiting in reserve on his first battle he let off an arrow before the command, except that he killed the assassin that was trying to sneak up on their troop's colonel with it, so he got promoted for disobedience.ʺ

ʺBut he stood there in front of everybody and asked for help. Healer 's help. From a kid.ʺ

ʺYeah. Interesting, isn't it? And you're Hereyta's First Flight partner's little brother.ʺ

ʺI can't heal
Hereyta,
ʺ I said in alarm.

ʺI know, Tinhead,ʺ said Dag, but he reached out one arm and gave me an absent-minded big-brother hug. ʺIf I knew of a wizard who could, I'd've stolen Dad and Mum's life savings and be gone over the Fabulous Mountains by now.ʺ All the best fairy-tale wizards live on the other side of the Fabulous Mountains from wherever you are.

ʺI wonder if his shoulder really does hurt,ʺ I said.

Dag snorted. ʺHe spent thirty years fighting the Borogon. He's taken so many spears and arrows and swordstrokes he probably did eenie-meenie-miney-moe about what to use when he decided he wanted to talk to you. And now he has talked to you and . . .ʺ Dag didn't finish. Two days till First Flight.

We saw Eled with his dragon, Ansilika, every day—Ansilika looked pretty serene to me—and Setyep and Arac too, till Dag stopped stiffening up when he saw them. I had been introduced to pretty much all the third-years, quite a few of the other cadets and a few tutors. And about twenty more dragons—I remembered the dragons best. They were all beautiful. One of the best—after Hereyta of course—was Munyinzia, who was purple and blue, and his partner was one of the few women at the Academy: Doara. ʺShe'll be a city captain in five years,ʺ said Eled. ʺThe girls are always like that. They're out there aiming and aspiring while a lot of the boys try to come back to the Academy as soon as they can and teach, so they can have regular meals and their baths indoors in hot water. Unless there's another big war on, which please the gods there won't be. My cousin was a city captain in
four
years and my sister's already a deputy.ʺ

ʺYou said three daughters in your family went to dragonrider academies.ʺ

ʺYes. The other one was in the last war. She went from city upper guard to colonel in one fell swoop, and lasted fourteen months on the Haksap border before they killed her. It's nearly a record. Her parents have a crown for it.ʺ

I finally found out who Fistagh was. I hadn't realised I was expecting him to have horns and fangs till I met him and he was normal. Short, even. Well, not as short as me but shorter than Dag. I found out I was relieved he didn't have horns and fangs because I'd've worried about his dragon.

Sippy went on playing his game. He never tried to play it when Hereyta was doing something for us, or we were doing something on the front bits of her. He didn't pester like a little kid, he just waited. Hereyta had so much neck she could perfectly well play the game so long as Dag and I were busy doing whatever we were doing somewhere else—the rest of her stayed as steady as a, well, a small mountain. Unless of course you were asking her to flex the top of her wing in and out so you could find the sore places to rub better.

When Arac (with Setyep in tow) came round Sippy played it with the two of them. He never tried it with any other dragon, even Ansilika. I generally watched this show, waiting for that flash of dragon-magic when Sippy hit the right triangle point. I'd begun to recognise the flash—it wasn't a flash, I just don't know what else to call it; it was like a crumple or a crack more than a flash, but a crumpled what? Or a crack into what? Let's call it a flash. Whatever it was, it didn't bring a hot wind or pink haloes for the trees any more, and Dag and Setyep didn't mention it again. But in a funny way it seemed to get sharper, somehow, like it was being pulled together from being all spread out.

The weirdest thing of all was once when I was standing thinking about it right after Arac had left. I was almost as if glued in place, or like a little glamour had got itself laid on me from watching the dragon magic. This does happen, by the way, or something like it, it's one of the reasons you have to train to do magic with someone who knows what they're doing rather than try and pick it up yourself; you might go off in one of these trances and not be able to get out again. Dragons aren't supposed to be magical, not like rocs, say, but this felt like magic. So I was standing there, not noticing that I was kind of tranced, and thinking about the crumple-crack-flash. And I sort of noticed that Hereyta had kind of realigned herself since Arac left, but as if the game was still going on with three, as if Arac had merely changed location and become invisible. I had only just figured out that the invisible Arac was standing where I was standing. They were using me as the second point of the triangle. . . .

And Sippy found the third point.

Ever been caught in a crumple-crack-flash? I don't recommend it. It literally knocked me down. It was a little like what being stepped on by a dragon might be like—knocked over and very slightly stepped on and then the dragon snatches its foot back just in time. It was also hot and . . . I want to say loud, but the loud part was only sort of part of the being-stood-on part, I think. It was just too much in all the ways you have to feel that something is too much. And my ears were ringing although I couldn't remember hearing anything.

I sat up from where I'd fallen as Dag came trotting over to me. ʺHey, are you all right? What happened? Do you need food? It's almost lunchtime and I know how tiring working on a dragon is if you're not used to it.ʺ He was pulling stuff out of his pockets as he spoke. Various bits and pieces of dragon equipment emerged first, and then he produced an only slightly beat-up sandwich. Usually we had a midmorning break and ate something then, but Setyep had interrupted it. ʺYou just stay sitting down. I'll sit too,ʺ and he did. ʺWhat happened?ʺ

Sippy was standing perfectly still—Sippy never stands perfectly still—looking at me. Hereyta was perfectly still too but she usually is unless she's deliberately doing something. But her two eyes were clearly focussed on me.

ʺI have no idea,ʺ I said firmly, broke the sandwich in half and gave half to Dag. Sippy drooped, and then came over to me and fell down, only in standard Sippy falling-down style, nothing serious, and laid his head lengthwise along my legs so he could stare into my eyes, and stared. As if he was asking me to forgive him. Or to understand something. I gave him half my remaining half sandwich.

ʺHey,ʺ said Dag, still bothered, and gave me half of
his
half sandwich. ʺLook, even Hereyta's worried about you.ʺ Hereyta was still staring at me.

ʺI'm okay, I'm fine, I'm anything you like, I'm eating my sandwich, ʺ I said, and leaned over to pull my fingers through Sippy's topknot. It's one of those comfort things, like rubbing your lucky pebble, but in this case it dragged the hair away from his third eye, which seemed bigger and shinier and more eye-like than usual. I looked up at Hereyta.
What is going on?
I thought at her. She didn't answer, but she threw her head back suddenly to look at a dragon flying over us, the tiny bump of its rider just visible only because you knew where to look.