Hoo-boy; this was beginning to remind me of an After-Action Review. I could feel myself starting to sweat as I took a moment to order my thoughts. "Well, the best I can offer you on your first question, my Lady, is I had a very bad feeling that Ksstha was going to throw the kitchen sink at me when next we met. Stefan has proven to me that he can be quite formidable in the tactical realm of conflict, but he has never shown nor indicated to me an ability to handle the sort of Power that was tossed around that night." I paused, mindful of a possible eavesdropper. "I feared that his life would be needlessly thrown away."
"I see." Dithra tilted her head back slightly, her eyes elsewhere. "That would explain his use of the most powerful magus in his camp." She looked back to me. "It may also explain the news from my spies that she has been gravely injured somehow. Your doing, Hasai?"
My lips tightened against my teeth as I grimaced. "Yes, my Lady. I'm sorry, but she was far too dangerous to treat lightly."
Dithra made a slight hand-motion that could be equated to the dismissive flick of a tail tip. "Being the assaulted party, Hasai, you would have been entirely within your rights if you had torn out her throat." She paused, gazing at me thoughtfully for a long moment, then leaned forward again. "But what was it that made the one who calls herself Niata so dangerous to you? You handled Ahnkar with relative ease the last time you met, and Ahnkar has a great deal of ability in the workings of Power. What did Niata do that made you consider her dangerous?"
Damn; I screwed up. I really hadn't wanted to mention this. . . . "Um, my Lady. . . ."
"Dear Hasai, I must know, else we cannot guard against it. She did something to you, did she not?" Dithra pressed, her eyes intent, and concerned. "When I watched you moving through this room earlier, I could tell from your movements that you were favoring your left side. What was it, Hasai? What did she do?"
I stared back at her, my face bleak. I did not know the term our people had for the weapon that Niata had wielded, so I at last framed it in terms my tutor in Power might have used. "She used a soul-snare, my Lady."
For long moments Dithra's face was completely blank. Then the meaning of the term I used sank in, and her face slowly drained of every vestige of warmth, leaving a visage terrible to look upon. Without a word, she arose from her seat and moved to stand before the fire and gaze into the flames, her right hand laid upon the massive stone mantelpiece as if to brace herself. At first I thought she looked remarkably calm, but then I noticed the thin stream of powdered rock beginning to trickle out from beneath her grip.
"I will hunt her down," she began in what was a quiet, conversational voice, but with an undertone that made my skin prickle "I will pursue her beyond the ends of all that is. Nowhere shall she find rest, nowhere shall she find sanctuary, as I shall see every dragon's fangs bared against her. I will find her, and when I drag her down. . . ." Dithra's voice trailed off into silence as she stared into the flames, and I thanked the Ancestors that I could not see what was reflected in her eyes.
Finally, her head slowly lifted. "Dear Hasai, tell me," she began, still facing the fire. "Tell me that Ksstha had nothing to do with such a thing." Pause. "Please."
I felt my lips turn downwards in a grimace of regret. "I'm sorry, my Lady, but I cannot."
For long moments she did not respond, then she gave a deep sigh, her head sagging. "You were right, dear one, you were right. Fear does indeed make monsters of us all." The ancient dragon turned, her voice sharper. "Why did she release you?"
I blinked. "My Lady? Niata did not release me; I freed myself."
Dithra made an abrupt gesture I did not understand. "Impossible. If she had your true Name and invoked it, then you had no hope. Was it Ksstha? Did he at last come to his senses and wrest control from his magus?"
"No, ma'am," I replied doggedly, "I freed myself."
Dithra started to make that gesture again, but stopped herself in mid-motion. She studied me, her face, silhouetted by the light of the fireplace, nearly lost in shadow save for the gleam of her eyes. "You truly believe that," she murmured at last. Slowly she approached me until she stood staring down at me. I started to rise, but at another gesture from her sank back down again. Her hands lifted, then paused, awaiting any objection from me. When I gave none, Dithra placed them at both sides of my head, her cool, dry fingertips just touching my temples.
Perhaps a moment passed, then Dithra gave a small hiss of annoyance, letting her hands drop. "We wrought too well, dear one. I can sense nothing beneath my hands but the mortal that you appear to be. Will you shift to your true form for this? Forgive me, dear one, but I must ask this of you."
I stared at her for a long moment, then dropped my eyes and nodded silently. I closed my eyes, concentrated for a moment as I braced for the pain that was to come, and. . .nothing. I blinked my eyes open in surprise, then tried again. Still nothing. A cold dread began to fill me as I bore down yet again, frantically searching for that barrier, that door that I had to push my way through. I was panting with effort, my face wet with sweat by the time I finally found it. Somewhere, I could hear Dithra calling out to me in alarm, but I blocked her out as I threw myself against the barrier once again, pushing, finding the way so much more difficult than before, pressing harder, then with everything I had. . . .
PAIN. Far worse than it had ever been. I welcomed it at first. Then I felt the wrongness, the cold leadeness of it even as my form twisted and changed. My forelegs touched the floor, held for a moment, then my left side crumpled and I toppled, to lay there on Dithra's snowy white carpet, panting raggedly.
Something touched me, I opened my eyes to see Dithra kneeling next to me. I blinked, fighting to force my left eye into focus, and tried to get to my feet, but her hands pressed me back down.
"No, Hasai; hold still." Her hands moved back to my head, brushed away the steely strands of my mane, touched my temples. A soft glow the color of sapphires began within her palms, soon wrapping her hands within a nimbus of Power. I watched her face as her head bowed over me with concentration, watched as that concentration changed to consternation, then to a slowly dawning horror.
"Oh. Oh, dear one. Oh, my dear Hasai. . . ."
I watched her with a growing sense of dread as she pulled away, the glow of Power slowly guttering out like some neglected candle as she clenched her hands into fists and pressed them to her breast, her eyes looking right through me, unseeing.
Finally her head bowed again, her eyes closing as she fought for, and finally won, control. "And so it ends," she whispered at last.
"My Lady?" No response. I studied her face, saw how old she suddenly appeared. "Dithra?"
Eventually she looked up. At first her face was utterly empty, but then her lips curved slightly into a small, sad smile. "Yes. Forgive me, young one, but. . . ." She trailed off, the smile shifting into something far grimmer as she looked away. She sighed, then resumed. "If you wish to declare Blood-Feud against Ksstha for this, know that I will place both myself and all of my resources at your disposal."
I blinked, stunned, as Dithra looked back to me. "I saw the reason for his failure," she replied to my unspoken question. "He, myself, all of us had forgotten that you are more than merely dragon, and that duality that I sense in you is what I think allowed you to escape." Her head tilted slightly. "I am right, am I not? The part of you that is human is what defeated Ksstha, was it not?"
I studied her, feeling a strange reluctance to answer. "Yes, my Lady; I believe it was," I replied at last.
She managed another small smile at my tone. "You make it sound as if it were something for which to feel shame. Do not, for it saved you from far more dire a slavery than any human could ever imagine." The smile faded. "But you did not escape without damage, and you know that as well." She ran a hand across the metallic scales that feathered the corners of my jaws in what was almost a caress as she sought the words. "Dear Hasai, that part of your spirit which represents your Dragon self is sorely wounded, as if a portion has been torn away from it. It is fraying away into nothingness, and if we cannot find a way to heal the damage, young one, I believe that you will soon die."
I stared up at Dithra, her face the sole point of stability in a world that had suddenly become distant and blurred. The leaden chill in my left side seemed to intensify into an icy gnawing ache. Finally I closed my eyes and let my head sink back to rest fully on the floor, my breath going out of me in a single long sigh. "Damn," I said at last.
The mutual silence that ensued lasted for several long moments, then I felt Dithra's hand once again touch my jowl. "Perhaps there is. . . .There may be something that we may do, although I know not what. I must consult with. . .others." Pause. "Hasai, would you be willing to be my guest for the night? It should be safe for you here, at least for a little while, and perhaps I myself can do something to slow this. . .this. . . ."
I opened my eyes, and felt them widen as I saw what might have been unshed tears within the ancient dragon's eyes. If it were possible, my spirits sank even lower. I looked away. "Yes, my Lady; I'll stay the night if you wish."
I blinked my eyes open to stare at the seam where the wall met the ceiling, the sounds of early morning filtering faintly from the window. I lifted my head, and knew immediately that I'd slid back into human form during the night as I slept. First time that ever happened, and I didn't like the implications. Frowning, I sat up in the midst of the huge bed that Dithra had loaned me, and scrubbed at the sleep still gumming my eyes. With a sigh I rolled to my feet and trudged to my quarter's bathroom, then grimaced again at the image in the mirror above the sink. Damn, but I was a sight; my eyes were bloodshot with hangover, sunken cheeks stained with beard well overdue for a shave, and my clothes looked like I'd slept in them, which of course I had.
I washed up as best I could, then stumbled downstairs, blindly following the heavenly scent of bacon, fresh coffee, and other wonderful things. I found Stefan in the house's monstrous kitchen, putting together breakfast. He looked up from the stove when I came shuffling through the door, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly in amusement at my appearance. Without a word, he lifted the skillet off the burner and walked into the dining area with me doddering along behind, to find the table already set, a large white ceramic pot full of java already steaming in the middle.
I plopped into one of the dining room's large wooden chairs, and Stefan promptly slid roughly half the contents of the skillet, Canadian bacon and scrambled eggs, onto my plate. I gave him a grateful look, and he smiled in return as he emptied the remainder onto his own china.
Things got a little busy for the next several minutes, but at last I looked up from my second cup of the best coffee I'd had in years and caught Stefan's eye. "Dithra?"
He gave his head a shake as he set down his own cup. "Not here, my Lord. I don't know where she is, save that it has something to do with you."
A worried frown creased his brow as he said the last, but I chose to ignore it for the moment. What I found far more interesting was that I wasn't getting the deep-freeze treatment anymore, for which I was very nearly as grateful as I was for the scrambled eggs. I nodded. "Think she'll be back soon?"
"My Lord, I have no idea," The former Stasi agent replied, his eyes studying the liquid in his cup. "I am sorry. My Lady has instructed me to ask you to remain here until she returns, however."
At that, Stefan looked up, an eyebrow lifting questioningly. I felt my lips pressing into a thin straight line, as I looked down to study my own cup, thinking. "I'm not all that sure that I should; I'm thinking we're too isolated out here in this place. There could be trouble. Maybe it'd be better if I headed back home. Dithra could give me a call when she gets back."
Stefan's face stiffened with poorly-concealed alarm at my words. "My Lord, please don't. You are ill." He cut off my attempt at protest with a sharp, almost frantic gesture. "No, my Lord, listen. Dithra has told me that your injuries are grave, and could worsen quite quickly. I agree there is risk, but your going elsewhere, away from our immediate help, could spell your end." He drew in a breath, let it out in a short, frustrated sigh. "My Lord, I beg you to at last realize that we cannot afford to risk you, even if it means surrendering you to our opponents. I, Dithra, all of us are expendable, if it means keeping you alive. All of us. Tell me that you finally understand this, my Lord, please."
I stared stonily at the young dragon for a long time, but at last was forced to drop my gaze. "All right," I sighed "but don't expect me to like it."
"There are many things in this world that we do not like, but have little choice but to live with, my Lord." Stefan paused to sample part of his meal, then smiled at me ruefully. "If I dared to believe otherwise, I would quite probably be in Ahnkar's camp."
I almost choked on my eggs at that. I waited until I got my breathing straight before speaking. "That is. . .an interesting statement to make. Why? Do you hate humans that much?"
Stefan shook his head emphatically. "I do not hate them, my Lord; they frighten me. They have so much power, yet at times they behave little better than infants. They charge headlong into everything, with little or no thought as to the consequences, or whether there is a way back out." The ex-Stasi agent sipped his coffee. "Do you remember the Cuban missile crisis?"
"Yes."
"I was there. On the ground, in Cuba. Oh, Ancestors, the idiocy." Stefan took another sip, then carefully set the cup down. "The fools. Both sides would have destroyed everything, for both human and dragon, for nothing more than their petty political maneuverings." He sighed, then looked up at me with tired eyes. "Forgive me, my Lord, but after that- that madness, if there were any way that I could see to wrest control of our world back from the humans, you and I would not be talking like this."
I gazed at Stefan for a long moment, mentally revising my draconic definition of the word young. Funny thing, how I kept thinking myself one of them, yet was constantly being jarred by these reminders of the vast gulf of understanding between them and myself that I had yet to span, and perhaps never would. "So, what is your solution?"
Stefan shook his head, laid down his fork, and waited until he could reply. "If I claimed I had a answer, then I would be arrogant indeed, my Lord. War, however, is most certainly not it, for if there is one thing that the humans truly excel at, it is conflict. No; what Dithra considers the best course, and the only viable way, I have realized, is to guide them."
"Guide them? And how does Dithra propose to guide the entire human race?"
Stefan's face pulled unto a quick, rueful smile as he once again lifted his coffee. "The same way I suppose the humans would guide an avalanche or channel a tide, my Lord; very, very carefully." Sip. "But Dithra believes that it can be done, and after seeing her plans, so do I." He stared down into his cup. "But the first part of her plan. . .worries me."
"And that is?"
"Where we make ourselves known to the humans again."
I fumbled my fork, and it clattered noisily to my plate as all the social, religious, and political ramifications of that quiet statement went roaring through my mind like Stefan's proverbial avalanche. "That would be extremely dangerous."
"Not so dangerous as remaining in the shadows, where both ourselves and our manipulations could be discovered, and inevitably would," Stefan replied. "Better to take that initial risk, then operate in daylight. Then, if our influence is felt, we would simply show it to be what it truly is; our own self- interest making itself known."
I dropped my gaze to stare unseeingly down at my plate, then recovered my fork and went back to work on the remains of my breakfast, my mind churning. I should have seen it, really; it was obvious-- or at least it was now-- that Dithra's plans for accommodation with the humans would eventually require us coming back out into the open. Remaining in the shadows was not an option, seeing as how poorly humans reacted to such secrets. But ye gods, the risk. All it would take would be one power-hungry clergyman or politician of any significant standing to declare jihad and it would all drop into the pot. Still. . . .
I finished my meal, dropping my napkin onto my plate with a sigh. "She's right, I'm afraid. I really don't see any alternative. I just hope that she intends to take it slow and easy."
Stefan smiled wryly as he began to gather up the remains. "Indeed, my Lord; very slow, and very easy." He glanced back to me as he headed towards the kitchen. "Would you be interested in anything else?"
"No," I smiled, "but thanks. Appetite isn't in the best of shape right at the moment, I'm afraid."
Dithra's agent immediately sobered. "Yes, of course." He paused for a moment in the doorway, as if unsure if he should say something more, then turned and silently left the room.
I sighed and leaned back in my chair, my right hand absently massaging my left, then stood and went to collect any calls from my home answering machine. There were a few; the most interesting a message from the sergeant-major, asking me to contact a person he knew was looking for someone with experience in digital communications. I did so, and sat there in the hallway for the next fifteen minutes or so, talking shop with an engineer working at a site downtown. He finally asked if I would be interested in setting up a formal interview, and I told him I would.