"Perhaps," said Bitterwood. "But I'm used to thinking of dust as the fate of all men. My days on this earth are numbered. Watching this endlessly renewing quiver has brought many things to mind. I think I died in that cave above Big Lick. You brought me back, Jandra."
"Oh," she said. "That. Your heart was only stopped for a minute or two. You were in a state of cardiac arrest, but you still had brain activity."
"If I were in a similar state now, you couldn't save me," said Bitterwood.
"Not without my powers, no," said Jandra.
"You asked me why I didn't kill Chapelion. Why I didn't simply leap into the fray and take on fifty dragons at once. The truth is, despite the fact that you've restored me to full health, I'm growing old, Jandra. Zeeky has no relatives, save for her missing brother, Jeremiah. If I die, who will care for her?"
"What are you saying, Bant?" asked Jandra.
"I'm saying that I'm giving up my life as a dragon hunter." Bitterwood looked up toward the sky, at the few stray stars visible through the smoke that veiled the night. "If I stumble across Hex, I'll kill him, but I'm not hunting him. I'm going back to the mountains to search for Jeremiah. Once I've found him, I want to return to the life I once lived as a farmer. I'd like to raise Zeeky and the boy in an environment as close to peace and stability as an old fool like myself can provide."
Jandra's jaw slackened. "You're retiring?" "I've killed more dragons than I can count. I've rid the world of Albekizan's family, save for Hex. There are no sun-dragons who legitimately claim the bloodline of the ancient kings. The sun-dragons are fracturing politically. They can fight among themselves for a while. Let Kanati and his rebels at Dragon Forge deal with the survivors."
Shay felt his anger rise again. "I can't believe you won't go to help the rebels. You're famous throughout the kingdom as the greatest hope of humanity. Why turn your back on us now?"
Bitterwood walked toward Shay, who was still on his knees. Shay turned his face as Bitterwood bowed down to his level. The old man's hot breath washed over him as he whispered, "Hope has never caused a single arrow to fly from my bowstring. Hate is the only cause I've fought for. Hate is like a fire in a man's belly, feeding him when all the food in the world cannot abate his hunger. I've lived with this hate for twenty years, boy. If a man's soul burns long enough, eventually nothing is left but ash. The fire fades once all the fuel is spent."
Bitterwood had two voices. There were times when he was relaxed and spoke like any other man. But other times, in more poetic language, he spoke with a low tone cold as a winter wind. If the damned in hell could speak, they must surely possess voices like this.
Shay blurted out, against his better judgment, "I don't know who these children are that you speak of raising, but I have pity for them."
Bitterwood chuckled. "I'm not a fit father for a normal child," he admitted, sounding human once more. "Luckily, Zeeky doesn't require a father so much as a taller person to get things for her off shelves. She really doesn't even need that now that she has the long-wyrm."
"Long-wyrm?" asked Shay. "I had a dream after you knocked me out. We were on the side of tower, riding on a copper-colored serpent with a hundred limbs as sky-dragons darted all around."
"That wasn't a dream," said Jandra. "Long-wyrms only have twenty-eight legs, by the way. It just looks like more."
"There weren't that many sky-dragons either," said Bitterwood. "I think my reputation may have kept the full aerial guard from turning out… or perhaps they were busy with the fire. I couldn't have shot more than twenty-three before the sky was empty."
"But… were we sideways on the tower? Why didn't we fall?"
"Hyperfriction," said Jandra.
"What?"
"Gravity isn't that hard a force to overcome. The Atlanteans know how to craft material with exotic properties, and the saddles are made of a type of plastic that exhibits something called hyperfriction. You could sit upside down on one and not fall off unless you struggled. It doesn't take much energy to break the hyperfriction's grip, but it's more than strong enough to resist gravity."
"I don't understand anything you just said to me," said Shay.
Jandra shrugged. "Sorry. Working with nanites, I'm used to dealing with surface tension and static. A sticky saddle is useful for a mount that can cling to a ceiling. I can see why Jazz invented it."
"Then… if I didn't dream the long-wyrm, where is it? And where's Anza? And Lizard, for that matter?"
"Skitter spooks the horses," said Bitterwood, "Zeeky took him down to the river. Anza went with her, and so did Lizard."
Shay was surprised. "Lizard never lets himself get more than a few yards away from Jandra."
"Zeeky has a way of winning over the loyalties of beasts," said Bitterwood.
"Lizard isn't a beast," said Jandra. "He's a child. A dragon child, perhaps, but he's not an animal. Young dragons aren't that much different than young people."
"You know nothing about earth-dragons," said Bitterwood. "They're far more animalistic than men. They're instinctually tuned to both respect and fear older, bigger dragons. They respond to being bossed around. Once they get bigger than the dragons who boss them, however, they're quick to test their position in the pecking order. You see a lot of earth-dragons with scars, missing claws, or tails bitten off at the end. They aren't earning these injuries in battle with humans. They inflict these wounds on each other in their constant need to test their position in the hierarchy. Once Lizard puts on another fifty pounds, don't be surprised if he tries to test his strength against you, probably when you least expect it. Even little, his beak is sharp enough to take off a finger if you're careless. Give him a year, and it might be your hand that winds up missing."
"It doesn't have to be that way," said Jandra. "Lizard has a sweet nature. He's responding to my nurturing."
"Believe what you want," said Bitterwood.
Shay agreed with Bitterwood, but there was no way he was going to admit it. He leaned back against the barn wall and looked off toward the distant fire. Another large section of the tower crumbled. Long tongues of flame leapt up and licked the smoke above. Sparks swirled until they vanished in the darkness. In truth, there was something mystically beautiful about the sight. When Shay talked with other humans, he'd never been able to fully explain the magic of books, the sheer illumination and heat that came from crisp, lyrical prose revealing some hidden aspect of the world. Now, at last, here it was, revealed for all to see: the hidden energy of books released, a torch to vanquish the night.
CHAPTER TEN:
SCARECROWS
Zeeky sat on a boulder on the river bank as Anza slipped out of her buckskins. Anza's breath hung before her in clouds as she contemplated the deep, slow-moving water before her. Skitter had already slipped into those waters and was slithering about unseen beneath the surface, no doubt feasting on fat and drowsy catfish in the predawn stillness. Skitter was always a little nervous; the smell of smoke from the burning library, combined with the attack of the aerial guard, had left him especially high strung. A swim in the dark, ice-cold water was just the thing to calm him, Zeeky knew. No doubt, Anza had similar motivations. But where Skitter had slid right into the river without hesitation, Anza stood with her arms crossed over her breasts, looking as if she might be on the verge of changing her mind.
"It's best just to jump right in," said Zeeky. "It won't be so bad once you've taken the plunge."