Part 14 (1/2)

”Go,” Pet said, giving Graxen a gentle push on the back. The sky-dragon tilted forward, looking for half a second like he would plummet into the courtyard, until he spread his gray wings and shot toward the distant balcony as if pulled by some powerful, unseen spring.

Pet decided at that moment he wouldn't flee the castle. For one thing, he was curious as to how this meeting would work out for Graxen. Secondly, he hoped that, sooner rather than later, Jandra would return. He didn't want to miss the chance to see her again. He grinned as he dreamily watched the distant dragons talking. He drifted into a fantasy that began with the offer of a cup of warm cider on a cool evening, then moved to a vision of Jandra's gown and his pants tangled together at the foot of a bed. Some small, quiet voice inside him warned that he might be skipping some steps in this scenario, but he'd honed to a wonderful degree the ability to ignore such small, quiet voices. He closed his eyes and let his body grow warm in the embrace of Jandra's invisible arms.

Nadala remained rigidly at attention as Graxen landed on a rainspout above her. Only the slightest tilt of her head revealed her awareness of his arrival. at attention as Graxen landed on a rainspout above her. Only the slightest tilt of her head revealed her awareness of his arrival.

”It's, uh, chilly tonight,” he said. His tongue felt stiff in his mouth as he spoke. His voice seemed to belong to someone else.

She whispered her answer, so softly he had to strain to hear it. ”It's not so cold. I've stood watches in snow. Tonight is almost balmy.”

”Oh,” said Graxen. ”Then, can I get you some warm cider?” He cringed as the words came out of him. She'd just said she wasn't cold!

”We're not allowed to drink on duty,” she whispered. She kept her eyes focused on the horizon, as if watching for the approach of invading armies.

”It's... it's quite a difficult job, I imagine, being a valkyrie. I-I want you to know I... uh... appreciate your hard work.” He grimaced at the prattle falling off his tongue. Why had he listened to the human?

”Thank you,” Nadala whispered.

Graxen found himself with nothing further to say. He'd thought he'd be flying off for cider about now. His heart pounded out the long seconds as neither of them spoke.

Nadala cast a brief glance upward, as if to a.s.sure herself he was still there. Her body quickly resumed the stance of an alert sentry as she whispered, ”It's kind of you to offer. Under different circ.u.mstances, I would take the cup.”

”You're going to be here at the palace for a few days, at least,” said Graxen. ”Perhaps we could meet-”

”I don't think that's wise, Graxen the Gray.”

”Oh,” he said.

”I wish the world were more fair,” she sighed.

”I know,” he said.

”Zorasta won't allow this conference to succeed,” Nadala said, sounding bitter. ”The matriarch has commanded that we cannot risk the existing world order. I wish she were open to the possibility that the world could be improved.”

Graxen felt his heart flutter as the implications of her words took hold.

”Then, you aren't happy with the world as it is? You dream of changing the old ways?”

”A valkyrie is devoid of dreams,” Nadala said, her voice firm and, somehow, not her own. It was as if she were speaking the words from rote. ”A valkyrie has no will of her own, no desire, save to serve the matriarch. We live and die for the greater good.”

Graxen dropped from the rainspout down to the balcony rail, twirling to face her, landing as silently as a leaf. With his voice at its softest, he said, ”We both know that isn't true. You treated me kindly when your sisters turned me away. You're an individual as well as a valkyrie.”

”In the heat of battle, there can be no individuality,” Nadala said. She no longer sounded as if she were repeating slogans. She believed these words. ”A valkyrie must be a part of a greater unit. In unity, we will never know defeat.”

”But life isn't always a battle,” said Graxen. ”Shandrazel wants to bring an era of peace to the world.”

”There will never be lasting peace,” said Nadala. ”Especially not in this time of upheaval, following the death of a king. I know with the certainty that night follows day, I'll be called to battle soon. My subservience to the unit must be complete.”

Nadala sounded resigned as she spoke. Her eyes looked past Graxen, into the distance, as if seeing that future battle.

Graxen nodded, accepting the wisdom of her words.

”You're right,” he said. ”Mine was a foolish dream.”

Her eyes suddenly met his. She whispered, ”Tell me of your dreams, Graxen the Gray.”

”I'd only lower myself in your eyes to speak of such fantasies,” he said.

”No,” she said. ”I'm fascinated by dreams. I envy your freedom to dream them.”

Graxen wanted to leap from the balcony and flee rather than confess his thoughts. Yet, for so long, he'd wanted to talk to someone about his most cherished hopes. He'd never been asked before; he couldn't run away now. ”Before I visited the matriarch I dreamed... I dreamed I would be allowed to mate. It's utterly foolish. I know that centuries of careful planning aren't going to be set aside to accommodate the hopes of an aberration. Yet... still I dreamed, and still I hope.”

”I admire that you can hold on to your dreams,” she said. ”It's been many years since true hope burned in my heart.”

”But, certainly you'll be allowed to mate,” he said. ”You must be highly respected, to be chosen as a guard for Zorasta. I know from experience you're a formidable warrior.”

Nadala lowered her eyes as he spoke, as if embarra.s.sed to discuss the matter. Despite her discomfort, she said, ”I find the possibility that I'll be selected as breed stock as dreadful as I do hopeful. I won't be allowed to choose my mate; he'll be a.s.signed to me. The matriarch selects biologians who excel in intellectual arts, yet frequently these biologians lack even the most basic sense of decency. They spend their lives being lauded for their greatness, and they approach the mating as just another award they've earned.”

”I've heard the boasts of the chosen ones,” Graxen admitted. ”They do seem to relish in describing how they, um, dominated the female. I think they overcompensate. Many biologians fear the power of valkyries; they become overly aggressive when confronted with a creature they secretly believe to be their superior.”

”We don't wish to be your superiors,” said Nadala. ”Only your equals.”

”Those are the sorts of words that Shandrazel is hoping to hear. It's a shame you aren't the amba.s.sador.”

”And it's a shame that the matriarch is blind to your virtues. It was kind of you to come speak to me tonight, Graxen. I fear for the future of our race, should the last traces of kindness be bred out of it.”

There was a noise in the chamber beyond the balcony, a soft mumble, like someone speaking in their sleep.

Nadala whispered softer than ever. ”If Zorasta wakes, it will be difficult to explain why I haven't gutted you.”

”Understood,” said Graxen. ”It's been worth the risk of gutting to speak to you. I feel... I feel less alone after hearing your thoughts. I wish we could continue our conversation.”

Nadala shook her head. ”You mustn't take further risks. Leave, knowing that you're less alone in the world, yet also knowing we cannot speak again.”

Graxen swallowed hard. Could this really be the end? Ten minutes of conversation was so inadequate for the lifetime of words he'd stored up inside him. He could hear in her voice that she was also full of such words. She was simply too disciplined to risk speaking them. She had so much more to lose than he did. He should go and be satisfied. Still, some desperate part of him wanted more.

”I could write you,” he said.

She c.o.c.ked her head at the suggestion, intrigued.

There was a further mumble in the chamber beyond.

”I know where you could leave the letters,” she said, her voice rushed. ”On my patrol, midway between the nest and Dragon Forge, there's a crumbling tower, long abandoned. It's easy to find if you follow the river. Atop its walls stands a single gargoyle; there's a hollow in its mouth big enough to hold a scroll. You could leave letters for me there, if you wish. Perhaps I'll answer them.”

”I'd like that,” said Graxen.

In the room beyond, there was a sudden snort, the sound of a dragon jerking awake.