Bitterwood. Part 14

"Huh," the man said. "Well, me too. So I guess you got as much right to pa.s.s the night here as I do."

The man let go of her collar and Zeeky spun around. She found a skinny old man with gray, thinning hair and tattered clothing. Spread on the straw beside him was a large gray cloak which held a longbow, a quiver of arrows, and a large knife in a leather sheath. The old man smiled, showing two teeth missing from the bottom.

"I see you brought a pig, kid. Good thinking. Kind of a runt, though. But split between just the two of us-"

Zeeky squinched her eyes and said in the sternest voice she could muster, "Poocher's not for eating. He's my friend."

"Oh." The man shrugged. "Whatever. Not much meat on him anyway. Guess we're stuck with potatoes," her loftmate said, holding out a large spud. "Want one?"

"Thank you," Zeeky said, taking the potato. "What's your name? Mine's Zeeky."

"Zeeky? Never met anyone named Zeeky."

"Well, now you have."

"You got some sa.s.s in you, kid. I like that."

"What's your name?"

"If you knew that, I'd have to kill you," the man said.

"Why? Are you a bad guy?"

"Could be," he answered. "I stole these potatoes."

"I stole fruit last night. Stealing food ain't always bad."

"The way I was raised, it is."

Zeeky shrugged. "Then we both must be bad guys."

He nodded. "Brother outlaws."

"But I'm a girl."

"Okay, brother and sister outlaws."

"You gonna tell me your name?"

The old man started to say something, then stopped. He smirked, then asked, "Can you keep a secret?"

"Sure."

"Okay. Then keep this one real good," the stranger said, leaning close to her. His breath smelled of rotting teeth as he whispered, "I'm Bitterwood Bitterwood."

"No," Zeeky said.

"No?" The old man leaned back away from her. "I thought sure I was."

Zeeky rolled her eyes. She hated when adults treated her like she didn't know anything. "Bitterwood's this hero, okay? He lives in a big castle and he rides around on this white horse and has a s.h.i.+ny sword and a fancy hat with feathers in it. He fights dragons who are mean to nice people."

"Oh," the man said. He scratched his head, looking confused. "So... I'm not Bitterwood?"

"No, silly."

"Huh," he said. "Then I'm at a bit of a disadvantage. I must have forgot my name. Why don't you just call me... Hey You."

"Hey You?"

"Hey, for short. Mr. You if you're feeling formal."

"Okay, You."

"That's Mr. You to you," he said.

"You're silly," Zeeky said. "I like you."

Mr. You's lips bent slightly upward into an expression not quite a smile. "Thank you," he said. "Not many people like me."

"Maybe if you didn't scare little girls in barns, people would think you were nicer," she said.

"Could be," he said. "I don't normally try to scare anyone. It just happens."

"Maybe you need somebody to hang out with you and give you advice on not scaring people."

"Like a little girl?" Hey You said. Then, his partial smile faded. He nodded as he said, softly, "You might be onto something. People did like me more when I had a little girl. I had two of them, actually, a long time ago."

"Did something happen to them?"

He looked down into the straw and mumbled, "Yes." Then he took a deep breath and said, "Enough chit chat. If you want, you can stretch out on my cloak and I'll sleep on one of them straw bales. We gotta get up before dawn if we want to avoid being caught."

"Okay." Zeeky didn't need much convincing. She stretched out on his cloak, which was soft and smelled of smoke, and within less than a minute was drifting to sleep, dreaming of dragon castles, barely hearing the dog frantically barking in the distance.

JANDRA STEPPED FROM her sandals so that she would be able to climb more easily. The window had been built to allow a sun-dragon to stand comfortably at it and look out. She could just barely reach the bottom edge of the window if she jumped. She was used to navigating furniture and rooms scaled for beings twice her height. One advantage of the lifestyle was that it had made her a good jumper and a great climber. She pulled herself into the window, the highest in the castle, and looked out over the surrounding farmland. The moonlight bleached the night of all color, but still she could see the rectangular patchwork of farms, the wide river beyond and, far in the distance, the long ridge of mountains that bordered the rich valley. her sandals so that she would be able to climb more easily. The window had been built to allow a sun-dragon to stand comfortably at it and look out. She could just barely reach the bottom edge of the window if she jumped. She was used to navigating furniture and rooms scaled for beings twice her height. One advantage of the lifestyle was that it had made her a good jumper and a great climber. She pulled herself into the window, the highest in the castle, and looked out over the surrounding farmland. The moonlight bleached the night of all color, but still she could see the rectangular patchwork of farms, the wide river beyond and, far in the distance, the long ridge of mountains that bordered the rich valley.

The houses below looked idyllic. She wondered what it would have been like to have been raised in a normal house rather than a castle tower. She knew that Ruth or Mary would have thought she was crazy. They would have given anything for a taste of her life of privilege and comfort. But tonight she would rather be in one of those small farmhouses than here in the abode of dragons.

Sitting in the window, the cool night air playing against her hair, she remembered her last flight with Vendevorex. It seemed so natural to soar above the earth. She dreamed of flying almost every night. It wasn't fair that humans were forever earthbound. If she could fly on her own she would never touch ground.

"A lovely night, fair Jandra.Made all the lovelier by your presence."

Jandra looked back. Pet was behind her, standing on the stairs that entered the tower chamber. He still wore his dinner finery: black pants and boots, a green silk s.h.i.+rt that matched his eyes with a necklace of gold and emeralds. She missed her old wardrobe, all the elaborate headdresses and gowns, now forever lost, she supposed. Having fled with only the clothes on her back, Vendevorex had used his abilities to create a simple cotton blouse and skirt for her. They were nicely crafted and fit her well, but compared to Pet, she may as well have been dressed in burlap rags.

"You look sad," Pet said. "Is something bothering you?"

"It's nothing," she said. She noted the ease with which he'd read the emotions on her face. Why couldn't Vendevorex be as tuned to her feelings as this stranger? "I just felt like looking at the moon."

"So I'm not intruding?" Pet asked.

"This is your home," she said, turning her face away. "I suppose you can go wherever you want."

"You look as if you wish to be alone," Pet said. "I wouldn't want to be where I'm not wanted. If you want me to go away, I will."

"Thank you," Jandra said.

"But before I go," Pet said, "I want you to know I understand."

"Understand what?"

"Your sorrow. Your loneliness," he said in his soothing, lyrical voice. "Sometimes, when we feel the greatest need to be alone, it's the moment we should most welcome the company of others."

Jandra supposed he meant the words to come across as wise. But they struck her instead as unsolicited advice. She got enough of that from Vendevorex. "You presume much, Pet."

"Do I? In your eyes, I caught a glimpse of the turmoil in your soul. You're all alone. I know your master doesn't understand. He can't."

Jandra frowned. "Vendevorex isn't my master. He's my... teacher."

"But he's not human. He'll never be sensitive to your needs."

Jandra s.h.i.+fted in the window, turning her full back to him. "I thought you said you would leave."

"You haven't actually asked me to leave. I believe I know why."

"Oh?"

"You look out into the moonlight and it haunts you. You're a human living among dragons. You will never be recognized as an equal to the dragons, but neither will you ever be at home among mankind."

Jandra didn't want to let him know how right he was. She remained silent, staring into the night. Her gaze fixed on the farthest fields, her eyes drawn to movement, a large ma.s.s creeping along the river. A herd of cattle, perhaps. Did cattle come out at night? She turned away from the view to study Pet once more. His eyes continued to look right through her. Was she really so transparent?

She didn't want to discuss her feelings with him, so she changed the subject. "Is Pet your real name?"

"No. My true name is Petar Gondwell. But Chakthalla prefers to call me Pet."

"Why do you let her?"

"Why not? It makes her happy."

"But don't you want your own ident.i.ty? Don't you want what makes you happy?"

"Making Chakthalla happy makes me happy."

Jandra felt a little ill hearing this, thinking of how she enjoyed pleasing Vendevorex when she did well with her lessons.

"You don't like my being Chakthalla's pet," he said in a matter-of-fact tone. "It makes you question your servitude to Vendevorex."

He is perceptive, thought Jandra. thought Jandra.

"You dislike the idea that people are owned by dragons," Pet ventured. "You want your freedom."

"I have my freedom," Jandra said. "Vendevorex doesn't own me. He's just... my mentor. My parents died when their house burned down. He's raised me but he doesn't own me."

"Ah. If you are free then you can leave his service at anytime."

"I suppose. But..."

"But?"

"I don't know where I would go."

"Ah." Pet nodded. "That is a problem, isn't it? He has you bound by ignorance of the world. This shackles you far more effectively than iron."

Jandra thought about Vendevorex's revelation of lands beyond the kingdom. Had he kept her in the dark to limit her possibilities? Who knew what lay beyond the mountains? Perhaps there were places where humans ruled dragons. That would certainly explain his reluctance to discuss them.

"I won't say that Vendevorex has me in shackles," she said. "But it bothers me the way he's always keeping quiet about his plans. He just announces our next move and expects me to follow. He never consults me."

"It's the way of dragons," said Pet. "They can never consider humans as equals. Asking a human for advice is as absurd to them as us asking a dog what the weather will be like."

Jandra nodded. "I must admit, you surprise me. You seemed so subservient to Chakthalla. I just a.s.sumed you let her do all your thinking for you."

"I make her think she does all my thinking for me. In truth, I'm the sole master of my fate, fair Jandra. Humans are dealt a very bad hand. In the villages, men struggle to survive. Some become comfortable but none may become wealthy. The only humans to gain a semblance of power are the prophets that seem to grow like mushrooms after floods and plagues. But what do prophets do with their prestige? Wage war against the non-believers in the next village who are following their own prophet. In the end, there is little profit in prophecy."

"No," she said. "I suppose not."

"But to live among dragons is a far different fate," Pet said. "As a favorite of a dragon I am showered with jewels. I sleep on sheets of silk; I drink from cups of gold. All Chakthalla asks in exchange are a few tricks and a sympathetic ear."

"It sounds attractive when you put it that way," Jandra said. "But still, to be a pet... Have you no pride?"

"I take pride in a job well done," Pet said with a slight bow. "I'm an actor, a singer, an acrobat, a poet, a master of diverse arts and talents. I think of Chakthalla as my patron rather than my keeper."

"But Chakthalla owns you," Jandra said. "You don't have freedom."

He shrugged. "A vastly overrated commodity. Do I want the freedom to be poor? Do I want the freedom to tear my food from the hard earth, to struggle daily to endure? No. This way is better. As Petar I could pursue nothing but daily toil. As Pet I can pursue the finer things in life. Beautiful women such as yourself, for instance, are found only in the courts of dragons."

"Please," Jandra said, rolling her eyes. "I'm not beautiful."

"Oh dear. He doesn't tell you, does he?"

"Doesn't tell me what?"

"Vendevorex never tells you how lovely you are."

Jandra lowered her head. "No. He doesn't."

"Dragons know nothing of human hearts. The loveliest woman never sees her own beauty with her eyes until she sees it with her heart."