Hydra (17 page)

Zilpha speaks. “I’d like to go. I can help Wren watch out for Ed.”

My mouth drops open to protest that I never implied anything about my going has to do with Ed, but then my sister gives me a flickering glance with a hint of pleading, and I remember that we triplets have an unspoken agreement. We’re co-conspirators. We might fight amongst ourselves, but we stand together against anyone else.

Even our mother.

And besides which, I want to hook Zilpha up with Ed. Is that what she’s getting at—that she’s softening to the idea after all, and only needs me to choreograph their romance? Zilpha is all about romance.

And my mom is all about finding her daughter a mate. I leap to my sister’s defense and clap my hand over my mother’s hand which is resting near mine on the table. “That’s right, Mom. I need Zilpha to come, too, so we can be there for Ed.”

The hand-grabbing did the trick, getting her to look at me in surprise just long enough for me to flash her a big wink, my body turned with my back to Ed so he doesn’t see. Maybe our seating arrangement isn’t so bad, after all.

And my mom stammers her startled agreement, though she looks slightly confused afterward about why, exactly, she agreed.

With that much decided, my father announces that we should all retire for the evening (it is getting quite late) and think on our plans, then gather again tomorrow to sort out more details.

I was exhausted before we sat down to eat. As the excitement of our discussion ebbs rapidly away, I feel almost as though I could fall asleep in my chair. I rise and excuse myself to my room.

Ed rises, as well, and I’m about to take a moment to tell him goodnight and thank him for his bravery in volunteering to fight the monsters, but he turns away from me and talks to Felix instead.

Well enough. We’ve been practically glued to each other the past few days. We need to step apart, especially if he’s going to start a romance with my sister.

I help clear the table, then head down the long stone corridor that cuts through the mountain to the bedrooms. But before I reach my room, I hear Zilpha’s voice, speaking softly, audible to my ears only because of the acoustics of the stone walls.

“Ed? Can I talk to you?”

I force myself to walk a few more steps, casually, as though I haven’t heard. But on the inside I’m doing something like a victory dance. Zilpha wants to talk to Ed! This is a great sign. This is wonderful.

“Aye. What’s on yer mind?”

“Let’s talk in the study.”

I give them another couple of seconds to duck into the study, which I passed many steps ago. Then I slip off my sandals and tiptoe back after them. The corridor is dark and empty. The rest of my family has lingered in the dining room or is helping my mom in the kitchen, cleaning up after the big meal. I’d have stuck around to help more, but I’m likely to drop the dishes in my exhaustion and I’d probably just be in the way.

But I’m not too tired to listen to whatever’s about to pass between Ed and Zilpha. Maybe eavesdropping doesn’t seem like the nicest thing I could be doing, but if it’s going to help me get those two together, I’m going to do it.

Dragon posterity may well depend on it.

Besides, it will save Zilpha recounting the conversation, later. As of the glance she gave me at dinner, we’re co-conspirators. She’d want me to listen in. Maybe she even caught up to Ed while I was in the hallway precisely so I could still hear them and would know to circle back. We triplets can be very sneaky that way.

I reach the doorway and hang back, just out of sight, as my sister’s words float softly through the open doors.

“She didn’t mean it that way.”

For a second, I’m not sure what Zilpha’s talking about. Obviously I’ve missed something. Ed and Zilpha have had a moment to talk while I was approaching at a tiptoe, and I’ve picked up the conversation partway through.

Ed’s voice sounds almost mournful, “Aye, she did. ‘Twas a message meant clearly for me, and I shoulda picked up on it sooner without her havin’ to spell it out in front of everyone. She’s a dragon. She can fly. She willna hide while others fight. It’s more than that she doesna care for me. I disgust her.”

I’m clenching the wall to keep myself from bursting in and explaining that I didn’t mean those words as a message to Ed. In fact, so far was that idea from my mind, that even as Ed repeats my speech verbatim, it takes me a moment of deep denial before I realize I said that. He’s talking about me.

And he thinks I was talking about him.

Of course he does. He can’t fly. And when the dragon hunters of old attacked Nattertinny Castle and killed his parents, Ed hid. He hid because his parents told him to—because he’d be dead if he didn’t. But even though I’m glad he hid (because otherwise I’d never have met him, and what a loss that would be) he feels guilty about hiding. He feels guilty that he’s alive and they’re dead—so guilty, that even though I didn’t mean to, I struck that tender nerve with a precision that smacks of betrayal.

I suck. I am a bad, bad, bad friend.

Worst ever.

I am not even worthy to be Ed’s friend.

I step away and continue on down the corridor, forcing myself to head to my bedroom instead of turning around and explaining myself, or listening to hear more.

I’ve heard enough. And painful though it feels to think Ed thinks I think that, I don’t know what I could say to him to make him understand I truly don’t. But more than that, most importantly of all, really, it’s probably better this way. I would never intentionally say anything so cutting, but now that it’s said and I don’t know how to take it back, maybe it’s for the best.

Ed needs to fall in love with Zilpha. What better way for that to happen, than for him to think I’m disgusted by him? He can turn to Zilpha for comfort and reassurance. It will grow into love from there.

It’s bound to. Zilpha specifically requested to come along to Siberia, not because she wants to fight water yagi or visit Siberia, but to get to know Ed. She’s on board with the plan. And this is a good way, maybe even the best way, to get Ed turned away from me and aligned to her.

I reach my room, peel off my dress, and tug on a nightshirt. It’s burning inside me, the guilt of what I said, the pain in Ed’s voice, the desire to run back and correct them both. But if I did that, it would only be for me, to restore myself in his esteem.

But for the sake of the romance that needs to blossom between him and Zilpha, I can’t do that.

I curl into a ball in my bed, clutching the pillow I abandoned only hours ago, suffocating my tears in its softness. I hate crying. Really, a despise it. I’m a dragon, mighty and strong and fearless, and I am not in love with Ed. I was
never
in love with Ed.

So why does his pain cut into my heart?

*

The next morning I’m reluctant to get up and join the others at breakfast because I don’t want to face Ed. But at the same time, I need to see if anything’s happening with him and Zilpha. Considering what I’ve let him believe of me, the two of them ought to be all but engaged by now.

But I find only my brothers at the table. My mom is puttering in the kitchen. Speaking of people holding a grudge against me, she gives me the stink eye as I enter.

I muster an innocent smile. “What is there for breakfast? Eggs?”

“Or leftovers from last evening.” She extends her coffee mug in the direction of the fridge.

I pull a leg of lamb, untouched and still on the bone, from the fridge, and blow a light stream of fire over it to warm it.

“Mind the air,” my mom says, flipping on the exhaust hood over the range. “We don’t want the whole house to reek of mutton.”

I obediently position myself next to the range, holding the lamb under the hood as I heat it with my breath, grateful for the noise which means I don’t have to talk to my mother, who looks to be in a sour mood.

But eventually the meat is heated through, and I have no choice but to switch off the hood and face her. “Any more of that coffee?”

She nods to the pot. “Help yourself.”

I’ve got my hands full with the lamb and she’s standing there doing nothing. “You can’t pour me a cup?”

“I’m sorry?” My mom snaps. “I thought you were so bloody autonomous. Or do you need me to wait on you as a means of keeping me in my place?”

“What?” I pull a mug out of the cupboard. I’m not sure I want her to pour me coffee in this mood—she might splash it on me when she hands it over. “What are you talking about?” I’m a little groggy yet, on account of I haven’t had my coffee, otherwise I might have gathered sooner what she was steamed about.

“I’m a mother, tantamount to servant. I have given the last twenty plus years to you children and you despise me for it.”

I study her over my coffee as I take my first sip of the morning, and I realize what she’s saying. It’s the same speech that upset Ed. For a moment I sip my coffee, choosing my words carefully. They’ve gotten me into enough trouble lately. I want to make this better, not worse. So I pull from the angle she’s bound to find most sympathetic.

“You’ve asked me, I don’t know how many times, why I don’t want to marry. And then the closest I come to telling you my heartfelt answer, you get upset. This is why I can’t tell you.”

Mom gives me a look that might as well have fire shooting from it. “You don’t want to marry and become a mother, because you don’t want to end up like me.”

I hadn’t thought about it in those terms, but now that she’s said it, I realize it’s precisely true. My mother, in all the stories my father and grandfather have told, used to be this amazing dragon, and a butcher, fierce with her swords. She turned Eudora into only human. She used to shoot flaming arrows and fight off yagi by the score. She was brave and strong and powerful and feared.

And now she bakes dinner rolls no one wants to eat. It’s a tad pathetic.

It’s true. I don’t want to end up like her.

And now her voice is this pained whisper of pleading. “You’re not going to deny it?”

By rights, I know I should deny it, but I’m too stunned to speak. It’s like she’s held up a mirror to my face and shown me my true feelings, my true fears. I don’t want to marry, because I don’t want to end up like my mother.

I open my mouth, too late, to say something, even though I don’t know what to say, but she’s already spun around and left the room. I follow her through the door to the dining room even as she heads down the hallway. I’m carrying my coffee in one hand and leg of lamb in the other, and my mom has a strong rule about food not going out of the dining room to the rest of the house, so I let her go and I sit at the table with my brothers.

“Anyone else hate me today?” I ask, tearing into my meat without looking at them. They’ve got to have overheard my entire conversation with my mother. The dining room is open to the kitchen, and everything echoes.

They’re silent for a bit, then Felix laughs. “It’s times like this I wonder why I want to find a dragon woman to marry.”

But Ram only scowls at him. “The womb is stronger than the sword,” he says cryptically, in his usual stoic fashion. Then he stands to leave.

Since I don’t know what he’s getting at and I don’t really believe him, I ask, “What do you mean?”

“The sword can only take life. The womb can grant it.” He gives me the kind of level, solemn look that makes him seem so much older than a single year my senior. He steps toward the corridor, then pauses. “Empires rise, not on the strength of their armies, but at the breasts of their mothers.”

I stare after him after he’s left, thinking on what he’s said. I’ve always venerated the sword and resented the womb, so my instinct is to disregard his words and deny their truth. But I can’t think of a solid argument against them.

Fortunately Felix is incapable of being serious. No sooner has the sound of Ram’s footsteps died away down the hall, than our little brother guffaws heartily. “Ram said breast!”

Tempted as I am to chide him for being juvenile, I decide to use my mouth for eating instead of talking. I’ve made enough people angry with me, and we need to work as a team if we’re going to defeat the water yagi. I’d best not upset anyone else.

*

Since it’s been decided my grandfather and Rilla will stay in Azerbaijan, my grandfather has returned to his village while the rest of us make our plans. We’ve got to keep our plans under wraps in case Ion or Eudora have spies in the village.

The rest of us gather standing around the dining room table which is spread, not with food this time, but with maps. Ed has taken a post between my brothers. He only glances my way briefly, and then gives me a tight-lipped smile. Gone is the friendly demeanor I’ve grown so accustomed to over the last few days.

If I hadn’t overheard his words to my sister last night, I might have attributed his attitude to the seriousness of our plans. But I know better.

The look he gives me is almost identical to the one my mother flashes my way, her eyes tinged with a disappointment akin to grief. I wish I knew what to say to raise her spirits, but other than deny the truth of everything that passed between us this morning, I can’t think of anything. And she wouldn’t believe me if I denied those words, especially since I still believe them true.

So I focus on the plans, because none of the difficulties between me and my mother or me and Ed will matter if we don’t pull off this mission. There’s danger in those waters, as my father reminds us many times while he spells out our strategy.

“The lake lies three miles due south of Eudora’s fortress, which is east of Ion’s castle.” He marks each on the map in turn as he speaks of them, three red dots marking the points of a triangle. “Our spies live here, in a cabin, about halfway between Ion’s castle and the lake. We’ll stay with our spies. They don’t know we’re coming, so we’ll stop short, in these woods, here, and I’ll go first, with Felix, so we don’t overwhelm them. Then, if it’s clear for you to join us, Felix will return to bring the rest of you to the spy house. From there, I’d like to visit the lake, but we’ll proceed according to the advice of our spies.”

As he talks, I’m studying the map. Siberia isn’t familiar to me at all, and while I intend to stick close to my party, I still want to know where I’m headed.

We’ll be far north, east of the Lena River, in a remote mountainous region of boreal forest. There will be woods and mountains to help hide us, which should be helpful. “Where are the roads and towns?” I ask, leaning over the map of the larger region.

My father meets my eyes. “There are a few dirt roads, a few small settlements, some abandoned prisoner of war camps, but mostly there is wide open country, brutal in winter, impassible in rain, inaccessible to many except by air.”

“The perfect place for a dragon to hide,” someone whispers, the voice so soft I can’t identify who spoke.

“Don’t they wonder what our spies are doing out there?” Zilpha asks. “Don’t they stand out?”

“The region is primarily Turkic in ethnicity,” my father explains, “but even still, Xalil is there by Ion’s invitation.”

“What?” Felix sounds as shocked as I feel. “Ion invited Xalil to spy on him?”

My father looks at Felix with his usual long-suffering patience. “As you may recall, in years past, before any of you were born, in the years while your mother was away at boarding school in England, Ion lived in your grandfather Elmir’s village. We were wary of him. He was an outsider. We didn’t trust him, but since he was a dragon, we let him live among us in light of his story that he was alone in the world and only wanted to be among his own kind.

“But he betrayed that trust and tried to kidnap your mother. Following that attempt, he teamed up with Eudora to attack our village, all-but-killing me in the process. He has never attempted to return, but fled to his castle in the mountains near Eudora.

“During his time among us, Ion had befriended Xalil. In fact, Xalil is a,” my father makes a face, thinking, “not a chiropractor, not properly. But more than a message therapist. I suppose you could call him a musculoskeletal practitioner. Whatever his title, Xalil had worked with Ion while he lived among us, and Ion invited him to come to Siberia and work with him there.”

“Ion has his own musculoskeletal practitioner on retainer?” Zilpha asks, with only the tiniest bit of jealousy in her voice.

Ed grunts in agreement. “I could use one of those.”

I smile and keep my mouth shut, even though, frankly, I’d like a good chiropractic massage, too. Zilpha and Ed have something in common. It’s a step in the right direction, even if it’s something everyone in the room also agrees with.

My father shrugs. “Ion suffers from some sort of ailment and the cold makes it worse. I’m not sure what it is, nor does it matter. The point is, when Xalil received Ion’s invitation, he came to Elmir and asked what to do. They agreed it would be helpful to have a spy in the area, since the spies who’d watched over Eudora’s household in previous years were growing old and were no longer up to the task. But to avoid rousing any suspicion, Xalil told Ion that part of his reason for agreeing to move to Siberia, was because he felt his neighbors disapproved of his previous associations with Ion.”