The Story of Owen (29 page)

“Not by ourselves,” I said.

“There's no other choice, Siobhan,” Owen said. “My parents and my aunts will have their hands full, the RCMD slayers
in Tobermory will cover everything north of Kincardine by default, and that leaves us to actually go to Manitoulin.”

“And do what, exactly?” I demanded. “Light the whole island on fire?”

“If we have to,” Owen said.

“Great,” I said. “Just give me a minute.”

You might think it's hard to freak out when you are sitting at a table with three living legends, but I can tell you that it is not. The eighth notes that had skittered around in my head while Hannah and I hid in the shelter the first time split into sixteenths and became even more cacophonous as my thoughts tumbled over each other, close to panic. My parents were definitely going to kill me, or ground me, when I went home and told them what our plan entailed, but that was probably the least, not to mention the most unlikely, of my worries. Panic made for unlikely thoughts—thoughts I knew were inadequate for the moment but were all I had nonetheless. The extended Thorskard family, and Emily, watched while I sorted myself out, which was a blessing because I couldn't forget that I was not going to do this alone. I leaned forward and set my hands on the table.

“Okay,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Okay, I'm good to go. Whenever we need to go. Just tell me when that is.”

Catalina smiled at me, and I could tell she was thinking “Where did they find
this
one?” But the music in my blood was evening out, so I didn't really mind.

“It will probably take us at least a week to get the town councils on our side,” Hannah said thoughtfully. “Not to mention get the tankers.”

“We'll have time to run plenty of drills in the meantime,”
Lottie said. “Which is good. I don't want people to panic when they find out that they have to hide in the salt mine.”

“Should we encourage people to leave town altogether?” Emily asked.

“Where are they going to go?” I said. “Toronto will be bracing for Muskoka hatch, and everywhere south of us will be getting ready for Michigan.”

“Siobhan's right,” Catalina said. “The important thing is to stay close to home and close to a shelter where we know that people can be protected.”

“Aunt Lottie could go on the radio,” Owen suggested. “Not the CBC, but the local channels.”

Emily was taking notes.

“Owen and Siobhan are going to need a boat as well,” Aodhan reminded us. “Siobhan can drive as far as Tobermory, but after that they'll need a boat.”

“I don't really fancy swimming with my broadsword,” Owen said. “So yes, a boat would be appreciated.”

“Will the RCMD get in our way in Tobermory?” I asked. That could throw a rather large wrench into our plans.

“No,” Aodhan said. “I was in Basra with the commanding officer there, and he owes me one.”

“He owes you more than one,” Catalina said quietly. Aodhan flinched, and she squeezed his hand.

“In any case,” said Aodhan, pressing on as if nothing had happened, “they can't do much to help us, because they're going to be under attack themselves, but they can stay out of your way and that will be enough.”

“Do you know how to drive a boat?” I asked, turning to Owen.

“No, but it can't be that hard,” he said. “Plus, I figured you'd drive.”

“You really need to get your license. You know that, right?” I said.

“When we're done, I promise I will take the test,” he said.

“I can monitor the news for you,” Emily said. “And plant suggestions, if you need them.”

“You really think that'll help?” Aodhan asked.

“I got Mr. Huffman to assign that essay on the history of dragon slayer cooperation while pretending to be an Australian graduate student,” she said, somehow managing to not look guilty. “I think with a bit of practice I can handle national media.”

“You and your father are dangerous people,” Lottie said. “I'm glad you're on our side.”

“Always,” Emily said. “I want my town to be safe as much as anyone does, but I can see the big picture better on account of not actually owning a house there.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “When you were talking about burning the hatching ground, you were exaggerating, right? We can't actually use fire or we'll destroy Manitoulin.”

“Before they hatch, dragons aren't really as toxic,” Lottie said. “They haven't had time to ingest carbon yet. Physically smashing each egg would take forever, and if the dragons are close enough to hatching, you might just release them. Fire is the only way. Manitoulin is already abandoned because of how close it is to Michigan, so this will just be finishing it off.”

“There really isn't a choice in the matter,” Hannah said. “It's like the tankers. Some things are going to be sacrificed.”

“Some people, too?” I asked.

The adults froze. And then Hannah took me by the shoulders and held on so tightly, I thought I might fold in half.

“We will do everything we can,” she said. “You know that we will. But yes. Some people too.”

I looked around the table. Lottie couldn't fight as hard as she wanted, but I knew she wouldn't flinch from whatever battle was thrust upon her. Hannah was a smith, not a dragon slayer by trade, but she wouldn't let anything get between her and Owen's safety. Aodhan couldn't look up from his hands, which I knew were twisted in his lap, caught in a fire only he could see, but he would face danger head-on. And Catalina, who'd come all this way just because Aodhan had asked. I looked at Owen, who was wider now than he had been at the start of soccer season and looked more like his father than ever before. When I met Emily's eyes, she was still smiling. This might be the last time we all sat together and had pizza made from the same forge that made our swords. If I had to, I couldn't have made any other choices than the ones that had brought me to the table with them.

“Okay,” I said, and the orchestra swelled into the final act behind me as all the parts were finally assembled. “Okay.”

It took Lottie three hours on Monday morning to make her case to the town council in Trondheim, and another six to get Saltrock to agree. After that, the town and county councils to the north fell in line as well, as did the ones to the south, though they were mostly out of the line of fire. By Tuesday, the leaflets were made up and distributed. On Wednesday I skipped school for the second time to learn how to drive the boat that would carry me, Owen, and my car from Tobermory to Manitoulin.

There were three dragon attacks during the week, but none of them were in places where we could spring the trap we'd set in Saltrock. They were all too far inland, and the wind was blowing the wrong direction. By Friday night, Owen was nearly frantic with impatience, and Hannah made him turn over the vegetable garden by hand just to get him out of the house. Aodhan and Catalina patrolled together, both reacquainting with each other and introducing Catalina to the local color. Everyone seemed quite taken with her, even though
it was made very clear that she would not be staying, and before long she had at least as many fans as Aodhan did. I have no idea what Lottie did to pass the time.

My mother made me stay pretty close to home that week. I still went to school, which, as I said, was sort of an exercise in futility, but at least it was something to do. If nothing else, the meditation portions of my drama class were handy. Soccer was cancelled until further notice, but Guard practice continued after school. That was the only time I saw Owen relax.

Emily, whose father might not have been quite as sanguine about her Internet activities as she had thought he would be, reported that the news was quiet. The whole country was holding its breath and waiting for the hatching season to begin. The only big piece of news came on Friday night, when it was officially announced that the government dragon slayers were being sent north to protect Sudbury and the shores of Lake Superior. This was the only official admission of the new hatching ground on Manitoulin, though the specifics were not given on the broadcast, and it was as close as we got to receiving any government help. As we had suspected, we were on our own.

I spent my time reading books about boats, writing songs about boats, and trying not to think about all the ways in which a dragon could sink a boat. I had gone down to the lake a few times to watch the tugs in the harbor as they moved the tankers into place. This was before Mum decided we needed to spend more quality time together. She even took a week off from work. I know she was trying to be supportive, but the way she complimented all of my musical endeavors and cooked my favorite foods all week only made me feel more and more
like I was never coming home. It was kind of nice not to face questions about my future, though.

Saturday was probably the longest day of my life, Bolero over and over again, with its unchanging melody and its slow, slow build to an entirely anticlimactic finish. It was a beautiful day, bright sun and blue sky, like the trumpets in the song, but I couldn't shake the urgency of the ostinato snare drum underneath. What few clouds dotted the sky all looked like dragons to me, and every time one shaded the sun, I couldn't help but flinch.

I had planned to go over to Owen's house and work off some tension by sword fighting, but Dad was home along with Mum, and they had the whole day mapped out, starting with Dad's mission to turn the garden over.

We worked side by side, hacking through the newly thawed ground to turn over the fresh brown earth that would grow vegetables and flowers. Dad had decided to plant more food this year, a sign of forethought that I at first took to be optimistic, but as I looked at the expression on his face, I started to wonder if maybe having his own food source was his way of coping with such an uncertain future. At least he was growing enough to feed three.

“Just after your third birthday,” he said, carefully lining pea seeds along the furrow he'd just finished, “your mother read an article in one of those parenting magazines that said if kids only colored in coloring books, it would stunt their creativity.”

I stopped shaking soil out of grass roots and looked over at him. He didn't stop working. He didn't even look up. But he did keep talking.

“I don't remember the details, exactly,” he went on. “Something about how it limited imagination and how, with
small children especially, there would be frustration because you wouldn't have the motor skills to stay inside the lines. So we took away your coloring books and replaced them with blank paper.”

I don't remember any of this, but it's a very good story. Perhaps I come by storytelling more naturally than I'd thought.

“And then, it was the craziest thing,” he said. “Because you drew nothing but lines. Lines and dots and lines and dots. And it didn't make sense.”

He smiled, lost in this memory of me that I could not recall, and started covering the peas with dirt.

“We used to keep your grandmother's hymnal on the piano, do you remember?” he asked. “Before it was covered with your sheet music, back when the piano was more of a decoration than anything else.”

“I remember that,” I said.

“Well, it was always open,” he said. “And somehow, somehow you knew it was music. So you drew it. You drew your own notes and staff, even before you knew any of the rules. You made music.”

I was never one of those kids whose artwork decorated the fridge. Now I knew why. I also knew, without asking, that those childhood symphonies were packed away somewhere in the house, and that if I someday wanted to make sense of them, I would be able to.

“You're the daughter of an accountant and a doctor,” he said. “We just assumed school was in your blood, and that you were hedging because you were starting to wonder if we'd appreciate it more if you went into something like biochemistry.”

I made a face at that, and he laughed. I wanted to hear him laugh again. For years.

“I won't lie,” he said. “We'd rather it was something safe. But I think I understand. Most people have a job. They find their community, their people, at school or in the workplace. But you have a vocation, same as Owen does. Same as your mother does, really. And I would never dream of discouraging either of you.”

“I wish it was something safe too,” I told him. “But it isn't, so I do what I can.”

“I know,” Dad said. He came to stand beside me. “Will you join the Oil Watch? See the world? Or maybe just Alberta?”

It was an old joke, but the old ones are always the best. The important thing was that he laughed again.

“I'll have to talk to Hannah about the civilian branch,” I said. “And then hope I can pass the physical requirements, but yeah. That's what I've been thinking about.”

“We didn't expect you to find your calling so young,” Dad said. “But you did. And we'll do our best to make it happen.”

I didn't say anything, because the tears were too close. They hadn't volunteered to send their child off to possible death; I had made them do it. And still, they were going to. And they were going to do their best to make sure I had a house and a garden and a future if I came back home. My hands were covered in dirt, and there wasn't any music in them at the moment, but I hugged my father anyway. And he hugged me back.