But what if the clock started anew when he emerged from the cocoon? If that were true, then Mugwump was, in effect, only three years old. Given the likely timescale of a dragon’s life, he was, for all intents and purposes, still an infant. Assuming his intelligence was developing at a rate that roughly paralleled that of his physical development, he might quickly work his way past the intelligence of a dog and on up to a small ape. Or even a man?
Part of Vlad wanted to dismiss that idea out of hand, but another more tantalizing thought tempted him to go beyond it. No one truly knew the limits of a dragon’s lifespan. While stories told of repeated raids by the same dragons over a number of centuries, old bards’ tales were hardly reliable sources of empirical data. Still, if dragons could outlive men by a factor of ten, who was to say that they could not also become ten times smarter than a man? Judging by skull volume alone, Mugwump’s brain had to be at least ten times the size of a man’s.
The implications of what he’d seen and was thinking made Prince Vlad want to retreat to his laboratory and scribble copious notes. He wanted to set up some experiments to determine just how smart Mugwump really was. He had Richard for comparison, and Miranda. He could pose problems for them, measure how well they solved them, then offer the same problems to the dragon. He would do these things. Science demanded it.
Then he stopped. He could gather his data, test his theories, but then what? He couldn’t possibly share them with anyone else. Others would want to duplicate what he had done, which meant creating more dragons, or having Mugwump taken away from him. An intelligent creature, capable of flight, capable of carrying small swivel guns could terrorize cities and towns. People feared wurmriders and they would find dragonriders infinitely more terrifying.
The greater moral dilemma struck him. He owned Mugwump. The dragon was chattel. But if Mugwump proved to be as intelligent as a man, or even more intelligent, did Prince Vlad have any right to own him? The Prince and all civilized nations had long since repudiated the horror of slavery. Indentured servitude often amounted to the same thing, though the contract did contain limitations which, in theory, prevented abuse. And what would become of all the wurms whose growth and development had been stunted by their long captivity? Could a thinking man condone their enforced infantilization?
He looked up and saw his wife out with the children. She’d told him that he’d train Mugwump, but would educate his children. How will you take it, my dear, if Mugwump needs educating?
A cold chill ran through him. He wished, just for a moment, that both he and dragon were stupid. He literally had no choice. He had to educate Mugwump and determine just how smart he truly was. He would have to encrypt all the records, and likely needed to create two sets containing disparate data that he could untangle with the proper key. They would send anyone who stole his information off in the wrong direction.
Gisella approached him, her brow furrowed. “What worries you? Have you had bad news?”
“No, good news, I think.” I think. Is that what Mugwump can do? He slipped an arm around her slender waist and watched his son bend down to pick something off the lawn. It appeared to be a twig, which the boy peered at closely, then immediately attempted to stick into his nose. Madeline took it from him, which appeared on the cusp of starting him crying, but Miranda presented him with a yellow flower, which distracted him.
“Are you going to tell me, husband?”
He smiled. “Nothing to tell yet, darling. When there is, I will let you know.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder. “And did Mugwump take well to his training?”
“Dashed one fence to pieces, and did more hopping than flying, but his landings became less and less jarring.” He kissed the top of her head. “Which reminds me that I’ll likely need a pillow on my chair for the next several days. If a bruise comes up, you must promise not to laugh.”
Her blue eyes flicked up and she smiled. “I would never…”
“…laugh aloud?” He squeezed her tightly. “As long as you keep it a secret, darling, I think we will do just fine.”
Chapter Nine
18 April 1767 Plentiful, Richlan Mystria
Out of respect for Prince Vlad, Nathaniel Woods had done his best to reserve judgment on Colonel Rathfield. The Norillian officer didn’t shy from hard work and took to paddling a canoe pretty easily. Even though he carried a smooth-bore musket, he proved a fairly good shot with it. Of course, that meant he was still the worst shot on the expedition, but he was worlds-away better than most Norillians straight off the boat.
There were things about him, however, that just stuck in Nathaniel’s craw. One was how he addressed all of them by their last names, save for Count von Metternin and Kamiskwa. Those two he treated with a certain amount of deference, but he still spoke down to them. And he treated Hodge Dunsby as his own personal servant. Hodge didn’t seem to mind very much, his having been a soldier in the Queen’s Army until not long ago, but it didn’t sit right with Nathaniel.
Still, if Hodge had no complaints, Nathaniel wasn’t going to step in for him. Hodge had been in Mystria long enough to know that he could speak his mind. Nathaniel and the others would back him in that. Nathaniel figured that until Hodge decided to change his family name to something more Mystrian perhaps that message hadn’t quite sunk fully in. Still, he was willing to bet Hodge would take a stand before the journey was up.
The expedition had worked its way west to Grand Falls, then started an overland trek toward the southwest. The journey took them across countless small lakes and small rivers, all part of the watershed of the Westridge Mountains. The mountains began roughly where the Bounty and Richlan Colony borders met at the western edge of their grants, and extended off to the southwest and northwest. They cut the coast off from the Misaawa River valley, which, if Tharyngian and Shedashee tales were correct, roughly split the continent in half.
Within the first two days they’d left most Colonial settlements behind. Rathfield had referred to it as “abandoning civilization.” Nathaniel and Kamiskwa had exchanged glances, since the Shedashee had nations and tribes all throughout the land. Nathaniel had found them much more civilized than most Mystrians, and figured he might make that point to Rathfield. Then he figured that Rathfield wasn’t ever going to understand, so he resolved to hold his tongue.
As they traveled toward the mountains and into Richlan, they came across scattered settlements in small valleys with good water and fields. The people generally had constructed a big log blockhouse in the center, with a town green that they jointly worked. Barns had been raised and flocks of sheep wandered over hillsides. The individual homes appeared small, but clustered in small groups.
Plentiful was such a town and fairly new. At the last town, Wisdom, they’d been encouraged to bypass Plentiful since the people there had split from Wisdom over doctrinal issues a decade earlier. While the people of Wisdom had been full of forgiveness for their former colleagues and family members, the word “wicked” got thrown around a lot more than made Nathaniel comfortable.
The expedition entered the small valley on foot, having abandoned canoes on the shores of the last lake. The Snake River, which eventually caught up with King’s River to the east and flowed to the sea at Kingstown, ran too shallow in the foothills to be navigable. The people of Plentiful found it a convenient source of fresh water and had built closely on both sides of it. They’d even raised a couple of footbridges, though most folks just happily splashed through it at low points.
Nathaniel and the others had walked a day and a half in, and brought with them a ten-point buck, which Rathfield had shot and insisted on carrying after basic field dressing-as opposed to butchering it and letting each man carry a piece. Nathaniel figured that was the man trying to show how strong he was. The Mystrian would have been more impressed if the load had been shared out, since that was the smarter way to travel.