“Return?”
Vendevorex nodded. “Until now, I hadn’t made up my mind as to the best course of action. I clung to the hope that it would be possible to fight Albekizan. My consultations with Chakthalla show this to be folly. Our best hope lies on the other side of the mountains.”
“The best hope to stop Albekizan? You think we can find allies there? Your family, maybe?”
Vendevorex shook his head. “We must think of ourselves now. If we stay here we will throw our lives away for a lost cause.”
“But if we run, who will fight for the humans?” Jandra asked, her voice rising.
Vendevorex recognized her emotions stirring again. He tried to calm her with reason. “The humans must fight for themselves. United, they may succeed. A war of attrition favors them due to their superior numbers. In the end, humans may simply outbreed their way to victory.”
Jandra grew pale. Vendevorex tried to interpret her eyes. Was she reassured by his words? No, there were tears forming. He’d disappointed her instead of reassuring her. He sighed. Why did she have to make things so difficult?
“Don’t you care about the millions who will die?” she asked softly.
“Jandra, you’re too young to understand,” he said firmly, hoping to end this discussion. “I’m not heartless. I’ve given up all my power and prestige. I won’t assist Albekizan in genocide. But I also won’t risk my life in such a lopsided cause.”
“You aren’t willing to die for humans.”
“It’s not-”
“You aren’t willing to die for me?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth. I’ve raised you for many years now. You mean a great deal to me.”
“I mean a great deal… that’s all?” Jandra said, her voice trembling. “Is it true then? I’m nothing more than a pet to you?”
Vendevorex hadn’t expected this response. “What?”
“I’m not blind or deaf. Chakthalla acts as if I’m your pet and you say nothing to make her think differently.”
He shrugged. “It’s simple courtesy not to hurt the feelings of our hostess.”
“But you think nothing of hurting my feelings, do you?” Jandra said through clenched teeth.
“I admit,” Vendevorex said, on the verge of exasperation, “that I often have trouble comprehending the logic of your feelings.”
Jandra sucked in her breath, looking for all the world like she was getting ready to shout. Then she turned and walked away, fists clenched. He hoped she would walk off her anger. Vendevorex felt a good deal of relief that this confrontation was behind them. When conditions were more favorable he would make things up to her.
Zeeky could see the castle against the sunset. She’d been this close to the castle only once, last year when her father had taken food to the next village. He had told her the castle belonged to a dragon and that Zeeky should never go near the place. But Zeeky had wanted so badly to visit.
The castle was lovely. On foggy mornings its graceful spires seemed to float in the sky. She often saw dragons in flight, their shadows falling over her as they passed above. Some of her friends were frightened by the shadows. She was always thrilled. She wanted more than anything in the world to touch the skin of a dragon; she imagined it to be soft and smooth, like snakeskin. She once dreamed that she was a dragon perched on the castle wall, looking over the valley.
Now she was finally going inside the castle walls. It was the only place she could think of to hide Poocher where her father would never follow. She wasn’t sure what dragons ate-horses, maybe-but she knew without a doubt what her father ate, and from the moment she’d laid eyes on Poocher she’d known she couldn’t let it happen.
It was well into night when she reached the small village that lay just outside the castle walls. The full moon dominated the sky, pierced by the dark silhouette of the castle’s tallest tower. Zeeky’s excitement at being so near the castle was somewhat muted by her exhaustion. Poocher snored softly in her arms and she felt as if she could simply lie down on the ground where she stood and drift away.
But that would be stupid. The villagers would find her and return her to her father, and then what would happen to Poocher? No, she would have to find shelter. Fortunately, she could make out the dim shapes of farm buildings across some nearby fields. She slipped through a wooden fence and made her way toward a barn. A dog barked angrily, the sound growing rapidly nearer. The large hound materialized from the darkness.
“Shhh,” whispered Zeeky, pressing a finger to her lips. “You’ll wake everybody up.”
The dog stopped barking and approached her, sniffing. Zeeky scratched the old hound behind its ears.
“That’s a good boy,” she said. She had always gotten along better with animals than people. Animals listened to her. People spoke at her.
The dog walked with her to the barn. She noticed a chunk of bloody fur in the dirt in front of the door.
“Poor thing,” she whispered, guessing that the dog had caught up with a rabbit earlier. The dog picked up its meal and wandered off toward the farmhouse.
She slipped into the barn, pausing to let her eyes adjust. The moonlight outside was like daylight compared to the gloom of the barn. She stepped forward carefully, holding a hand before her, until at last she touched the ladder that led to the loft. She climbed slowly. Poocher was awake now and if he began to squirm she didn’t want to drop him from the ladder.
As her head reached the top of the loft an arm thrust down from the darkness, grabbing her by the collar. She screamed but was instantly muffled by the large, rough hand that clamped over her mouth. She clasped Poocher with both arms as her assailant lifted her the rest of the way into the loft.
“Stop squirming,” said a deep, gravely voice. “I’m going to let go of your mouth so you can answer a few questions. I’m not going to hurt you so don’t scream, understand?”
Zeeky nodded. The man’s hand left her mouth. He still held her by the collar from behind so that she couldn’t turn to face him.
“Did you have a good dinner tonight?” he asked. “I smelled fried chicken up at the house. Can you get me some?”
Zeeky didn’t know how to answer.
“C’mon. Talk. You got nothing to be afraid of.”
“I… didn’t have dinner tonight.”
“Oh?” the man said, sounding curious. “Why not? You being punished?”
“I can’t tell.”
“What did you do?”
“I didn’t do nothing. I didn’t eat dinner here ’cause I don’t live here.”
“Then what are you doing in this barn?”
“What are you doing in here?” Zeeky replied.
“Trying to get some sleep without some nosy kid butting in.”
“I’m not nosy. I didn’t know you were up here. I’m just looking for a place to spend the night.”
“You a runaway?”
“No. I’m… I’m an orphan.”
“Huh,” the man said. “Well, me too. So I guess you got as much right to pass 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 sass in you, kid. I like that.”