Karada shrugged. “I gave her the chance, but the girl has no nerve. I thought she might recover her pride living with me, the Silvanesti broke her too well. She’s just a rabbit. A silly, frightened rabbit.”
“Poor girl. Will she harm herself, do you think?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care. She’s Amero’s problem now.”
Pakito left. Karada sat by the fire and waited for Beramun to wake.
Amero kicked loops of braided vine through the hole in the cave roof. As it spilled down, he finished tying off the other end to a cedar tree. A long time ago, rebels from Karada’s band had used these holes to enter the cave and attack him. Now they were his means to see his melancholy friend.
He lowered himself through the hole and started down. It was hard work for a man his age, but the privations of the recent war had hardened him, and he reached the cave floor without mishap.
The cave’s interior was dark and chilly. Cold blue light filtered through the waterfall, and slender beams of daylight slanted in through the roof holes. The cave smelled strongly of reptile and old smoke. It had been many days since Amero had last been here, but the drinking pool and hearth pit were just as they had been when he used to live here every day with Duranix.
The dragon lay in the back of the cave on his sleeping ledge, a vast mound of coiled bronze muscles. Where once Duranix had had room to spare on the ledge, now his tail hung over the edge, and the arch of his back almost scraped the sloping wall above him.
“I know you’re there,” Duranix said with a deep sigh, neither rising nor turning to face Amero.
“Is it all right? Or should I go?”
“How would you leave? Are you fit enough to climb that cobweb you came in on?”
The bronze dragon uncoiled, limbs and body seeming to move in different directions at the same time. Amero backed away, giving ground to the massive creature.
“Yes, the cave is getting to be too small,” said Duranix, answering Amero’s thought as he stepped down from the ledge. “How are you?”
Amero sat on the cold hearthstones. “Surprisingly well. I’ve learned the secret of making bronze, did you hear? Balif’s smith, Farolenu, showed me how it’s done.”
Duranix blinked, huge eyelids clashing together. “My condolences.”
Amero’s confusion was plain on his face and in his thoughts, so Duranix said, “You’ve spent a long part of your short life trying to discover how to make bronze. Now you’ve done it. It’s finished. So, what will you try next? Iron?”
“What’s iron?”
“Never mind. I’ve just been having a difficult time imagining the future.”
Amero poked the ashes of the long-dead fire with a stick. “There are plenty of problems left to overcome,” he said. “The village needs to be rebuilt. We must decide what to do with the prisoners. Hekani has an idea for improving the baffles—he wants to attach permanent ramps to the walls, wooden ramps that can be raised or lowered from within—”
A single claw waved dismissively. “These are your problems, not mine.” The dragon sighed, blowing loose ash and dust around. “So much has happened here. It’s not the valley I came to a century ago. I thought this was my place. Now I doubt it. There’s a wide world beyond this valley....”
Amero quickly changed the subject, announcing that he and Lyopi were to be mated at last.
“Who knows?” he said, grinning. “I might become a father in my old age!”
“It’s wise you chose the sturdy female over the blackhaired one. That girl is tainted.”
Amero wasn’t sure about any taint Beramun might have, but he was certain Lyopi would resent being called “sturdy.” He asked, “Why so restless? What did you see on your journey?”
Instantly, Amero’s mind filled with a crowd of rapidly changing images. He saw flying dragons, dragons on mountaintops and in caves, nesting dragons—in many sizes, shapes, and colors. Like listening to numerous voices all talking at once, he couldn’t sort the onslaught of images into any sensible order. Gradually, the cacophony subsided, leaving a single, crystal-clear vision—a slender bronze dragon perched gracefully on a bluestone mountaintop.
“Who is that?” Amero murmured, dazzled by the rush of visions.
As soon as he spoke, the image vanished. Duranix was at the mouth of the cave, his head thrust through the pouring falls. Amero came up behind his left side and rapped on his foreleg.
Duranix withdrew his head from the water and turned to look at his friend.
“Are there truly as many dragons as that in the world?” asked Amero.
“That many and more.”
“Who is the small bronze one?”
“No one important.” He cocked his mighty head, water dripping from his barbels. “They’re looking for you in the village. I hear them calling.”
Amero’s shoulders sagged. “What can they want now? I told them I’d be gone until morning.”
“Your people need you. It’s a good thing to be needed.”
Grinning, Amero clapped his hand to his friend’s massive scaled flank. “Rejoice, then! All of Yala-tene needs you, Duranix.”
“You did well enough against the raiders. Perhaps you don’t need me as much as you think.”
Amero was about to protest when the dragon lifted him gently in one foreclaw. “I’ll return you to the village,” Duranix said. “What kind of friend would I be if I made you climb that long rope out of here?”
It was like the old days when Duranix plunged through the thundering falls with Amero held close to his chest. He didn’t make straight for the ground but remained aloft for a time, circling the lake. Amero grinned as the wind tore at his short hair. From this vantage, he saw blue sky to the north, signaling an end to the Ember Wind. Rather than looking down on Yala-tene below him, Amero kept his eyes lifted, taking in the vistas spread out around him. It had been too long since his last flight with Duranix. Much too long.
At last Duranix landed atop the stump of the onetime Offertory. During the siege, the villagers had torn apart the stone platform, seeking material for missiles or to shore up their weakening defenses. The dressed stone blocks had all been stripped away, leaving only the original cairn of round lake stones.
The dragon closed his wings and set Amero on the ground on his feet. The walled enclosure had a desolate air. Where once devoted acolytes washed the walls and swept the sand around the Offertory to make it pleasing to the dragon (who in truth cared little for what the Sensarku did), now the area was a repository for timbers, stone, and other supplies used in the rebuilding of Yala-tene.
“The nomads are giving a feast tomorrow night,” said Amero. “Will you come? Nianki’s leaving the next day.”
“Human festivities are always amusing. Perhaps I will come.”
“Good! See you then!” Amero said, and wended his way to the exit amid piles of logs and baskets of mud for brickmaking.
Duranix lingered atop the cairn, watching until his human friend disappeared from sight. The stone cairn, erected a long time ago when he was notably smaller, began to buckle under his great weight. Like a past that could not return, his perch had to be abandoned. Duranix launched himself skyward, returning to his dark retreat behind the falls.
19
The day of the feast dawned fair and bright. During the night the Ember Wind dissipated, and the heavy, muggy air in the valley lifted. Karada immediately sent out hunting parties to bring back any fresh game they might find.
Samtu and a band of six rode up Cedarsplit Gap and returned shortly, bringing bad news. Days of wind-driven dust had carved away the soft limestone in the cliffs and sent waves of broken rock crashing into the pass. According to Samtu, the slide was largely made up of small, loose stones—especially treacherous to cross as they were easily disturbed by feet and hooves.
Hoping the other scouts would bring better news, Karada returned to her tent to check on Beramun.