some were missing. Some beads were hateful, bespeaking horror and shame. Some were rubies and diamonds, the sparkling emblems of love and friendship. One was still unknown, a blue gemstone which she sensed was good. And one represented a beautiful, faithful dragonet …
Lia? A soft chirp.
Flicker stood on the log, his primary eyelids squeezed shut ostentatiously. See? I’m respecting you by not regarding your nudity.
Umm … thanks, Flicker. She could not withhold a smile, and it must have communicated in her voice, because the dragonet’s purr swelled. What did you bring me?
Herbs to ease your grief and distress.
How thoughtful. Lia said, “Thank you. One second.” Having slipped into her undergarments, she splashed through the stream and reached out to the dragonet. “Join me, thou pinnacle of dragonet magnificence. Let’s bask beneath the twin suns.”
At times, he seemed just a vain and silly creature, she thought, like when he crooned at her extravagant compliments or posed and postured to be admired. Then, even as the suns reappeared from being eclipsed by Iridith’s great bulk, the lustre of his third heart shone through. Accepting a pawful of fresh herbs, Lia chewed on the sweet stems and leaves.
“Are you alright, Lia?”
“Aye.”
They soaked up the suns-shine for an hour more, not speaking, just being together. The Human girl’s arm lay beneath the dragonet’s head, her hair spread out on the soft, fragrant riverside grass to dry.
At length she said, “All my life I longed to know my parents, Flicker. I made up silly stories. They were anything from farmers to merchants, even Cloudlands pirates. Of course I’m not alright, and I am sorry I lied, but it just … hurts. It’s as if Ra’aba stuck me with that dagger all over again, as though he dug around in my innards with a blade and carved out all the goodness, all the light and beauty and laughter, bit by bit.” Flicker did not move, but she sensed his full attention. “We Humans say that you can’t choose your parents, but you can choose who you will be. That’s the Island of sanity, Flicker. When I face Ra’aba and wrest back the Onyx Throne, I will say to him, ‘I am the daughter you scorned, Ra’aba. I am love, overcoming your hatred. I am joy, the wellspring of my mother’s precious tears. I am the child of the Dragon.’ That is how it must be.”
“Child of the Dragon?” echoed the dragonet.
An inner acidity embittered her words. “It seems I have three fathers, Flicker. Ra’aba, Chalcion and Amaryllion. Why should it take an Ancient Dragon to teach me what a father’s love ought to be?”
Flicker replied, “Amongst the deepest tenets of Dragon lore, there is a truth seldom spoken. We say that a Dragon is thrice born.”
“Of course, it would be three, with your Dragonish love of triplets,” said Lia.
“Very insightful, Lia. So you knew that Dragon clutches always number three eggs?”
“No …”
“Allow me to instruct you,” said Flicker, in that smug, I-am-so-learned tone which unfailingly made her imagine slapping him. “It is said, a trio of shell-mates is the most potent draconic power of all. A Dragon is born once of the love between shell-father and shell-mother, and a second time of the shard, it is called–the moment a hatchling breaks free of the egg. The third birth is a rebirth of spirit and fire.”
Hualiama shook her head slowly. Just when she thought she knew a few things about Dragons! “Go on, Flicker.”
“It is a sacred subject,” he said gravely. “I hesitate to reveal such things to a Human. Sorry, Lia.” He flicked his secondary membranes at her, signalling a shared joke. “Therefore, I shall pretend I speak to a Dragoness. When a Dragon passes from juvenile to adult, he or she must pass through a rite of passage. So, Grandion will remain a juvenile until he–”
“Grandion,” the Tourmaline Dragon boomed, “says that gossiping dragonets should not speak without knowledge or understanding.” Lia stifled a giggle at Flicker’s peeved hiss; Grandion’s muzzle appeared at once over the log to fix them both with a savage glare. He snorted, “Twittering hatchlings! The quest of sacred fire is not for all Dragons. It is not a physical quest, necessarily, but a spiritual journey to understand one’s own fire-spirit, which is the innermost incarnation of every Dragon. For a year or two, a Dragon might withdraw into seclusion or roam the Island-World, seeking that one defining deed, that moment or insight which will guide and forge the fires of