Jandra suspected that's what they'd find as well.
"That will be one less problem to worry about then," said Jandra. "When I left the palace, I had three big worries: who took Vendevorex's corpse, where could I find Bitterwood and Zeeky, and what was Blasphet up to?"
"Now you know the answers to two out of three of these. This isn't so bad."
"But I still have two missing bodies to worry about. Since they didn't find Blasphet's body, I think the Sisters of the Serpent must have taken it. Are they planning to worship his corpse?"
"I don't know much about religions, but could even humans be so irrational as to worship a disfigured corpse?"
"Maybe. And since Ven's body vanished around the same time that Blasphet's worshippers were freeing him, I can't help but think there's some connection. Since we never did learn the location of Blasphet's temple, that's going to be the second item on my list of problems to tackle after we make sure this Dragon Forge situation is under control."
"What's the first item?"
"My old tiara," said Jandra. "It's still sitting unguarded and unlocked back in the palace. I'd hate for it to wind up in the wrong hands."
"We won't tarry long at Dragon Forge," said Hex. "Shandrazel may not be a warrior by nature, but he's certainly smart enough to squash a human uprising on his own."
Jandra frowned. Something about Hex's tone made it seem like he felt that humans were naturally less intelligent than dragons. "Don't underestimate mankind. One thing that Jazz's implanted memories have shown me is that men didn't wind up in subservience to dragons overnight. Humans might have ruled the world if Jazz hadn't been actively working to cripple them. If she hadn't killed everyone who knew how to make gunpowder, for instance, the world would no doubt look very different."
"What's gunpowder?" Hex asked.
Jandra furrowed her brow at the question. She was frequently beset by these moments of cryptomnesia. Odd bits of knowledge flashed through her awareness as her brain endeavored to catalogue Jazz's forced memories.
"I'm not sure," she said, as Hex flapped his wings to lift them higher. The winter wind bit into her bare cheeks. The cold helped pull her back into here and now; she had fallen too easily into daydreams since Jazz had altered her mind. "It's so frustrating. It's like parts of my brain aren't talking to each other. I know that Jazz thought that gunpowder was dangerous, and spent centuries killing any human who knew how to make it. I have another memory of what it looks like and the chemical formulation. But these memories are just hanging there, disconnected. I'm not even certain what a gun is, or why you'd want to powder one! I have no idea if it would change the world or not."
Hex's shoulders stiffened ever so slightly as Jandra spoke. She'd grown quite sensitive to his reactions as she'd ridden him. She could sense his emotions in the subtle movements of his muscles beneath her thighs.
"What?" she asked.
Hex started to speak, then stopped.
"What?" she asked again.
"If an individual is nothing more than the sum of their memories, what will happen if Jazz's memories ever fully take root within you? Will you become her?"
"That's crazy," Jandra said. "I still have my own memories. I'm still Vendevorex's daughter first and foremost. I'm not going to forget that."
"But you aren't Vendevorex's daughter, not in truth," said Hex. "How can you trust your memories when the central memory of your life is so…" Hex paused, searching for the right word, "… so edited."
"That's a very diplomatic way of putting it," said Jandra. "I know the truth, but I choose not to dwell on it. I know that Vendevorex killed my true family, though Jazz thought that I might still have a surviving brother. But I'm making the choice to remember the good things I got from Ven: self sufficiency, discipline, and compassion. So, yes, I suppose I am editing my memories."
"Perhaps," said Hex, "in the end, it's not what we remember that defines us, but what we willingly forget."
"Spoken like a true warrior-philosopher," said Jandra.
On the horizon, the town of Dragon Forge was a dark blot on the white landscape. The chimneys belched black plumes toward the gray clouds. The ground for hundreds of yards around the city was dark brown instead of snowy-white. Mounds of rusted metal were stacked around the city, along with other unidentifiable heaps. As they drew closer, a jolt of realization ran through her. Some of these heaps were the corpses of sun-dragons.
"By the bones," she whispered.
"I see it as well," Hex said. "What could have caused such slaughter?"
Jandra's finely-tuned eyes focused in on the town walls and the forms moving along them. Humans. Dragon Forge was still under rebel control.
A fountain of anger bubbled up inside her. It was true that humans had suffered horribly under Albekizan. When Albekizan had launched his campaign of genocide, she'd been swept up with a passionate desire to fight for humanity. But didn't these people know Albekizan was dead? Shandrazel was intent on bringing peace and fairness to mankind. Why were these fools ruining the best hope of true justice this kingdom had ever known?
"It looks like humans are on the walls," Hex said a few seconds later. Jandra was surprised to realize that her vision was better than his now. Sun-dragons had eyes that were the envy of eagles.
"I see them," she said. "It looks like they have bows. We should veer away."
"No worry," said Hex, climbing slightly higher. "We're well above the range of arrows."
They closed in swiftly on the city. The little snow remaining on the ground was tinted pink with blood. Her eyes were drawn from the gore toward a strange contraption standing in the center of town. Some sort of machine, built to roughly resemble a man.
"I'm thinking we've just missed a fight," said Hex.
"Yes," said Jandra. "It looks to me as if the rebels beat back an attack of sun-dragons."
"How is that possible?" Hex asked, sounding genuinely puzzled. "Shandrazel may not have a warrior's heart, but I can't believe he couldn't command his forces competently enough to retake the city."
"The facts speak for themselves," she said as they drew ever closer to the fort. "Humans are still in control of the city, and the only dragons I see are dead ones."
Before Hex could mount an argument, a volley of arrows rose into the air from the fortress walls. Hex didn't react. Either he didn't see them, or wasn't afraid of them. But Jandra's mind quickly calculated the paths of the arrows and realized Hex was wrong about their reach.
"Watch out!" she shouted, leaning down, extending her arm. Hex veered sharply to the left, out of the path of most of the deadly missiles. Jandra was thrown from his back by the evasive action. She paid no attention to the distant ground. Instead she extended the nanite cloud that surrounded her to disassemble the arrows as they drew close. In seconds, she'd transformed the deadly wall of arrows to a cloud of dust.
Hex's hind-talons clamped around her waist as he wheeled back to catch her.
"I see the tents of the dragon army in the distance," Hex said, racing away from Dragon Forge. "Let's take the long way around to reach them."
"Yes," said Jandra. "Let's."
Prudently, Jandra turned herself and Hex invisible as they descended into Shandrazel's camp. The camp had been transformed into a mobile hospital. Jandra had never seen so many wounded dragons. While Dragon Forge had been a flurry of activity, with men laboring to clear corpses from the streets and repair the broken eastern gate, Shandrazel's camp was subdued and silent.
Hex landed and Jandra remained seated on his back. She was uneasy. There was no reason to think that Shandrazel would be angry with her over the human rebellion, but she was worried what other dragons might think. She'd always felt like an outsider growing up in the palace. Here among all this suffering caused by men, she felt that sense of isolation grow.