that Humans arose naturally in the Island-World and were in no way created or shaped by draconic magical powers. The ‘draconist’ or ‘realist’ scholars opposed this movement, but were often accused of seeking to drag Humans back into draconic slavery.
Whatever the truth, there was a great deal of bad blood between Humans and Dragons as a result, and also between Humans of differing beliefs.
And the truth of a Dragon’s soul? No-one knew that for certain. Lia gazed at the creature in her arms. Intuition and experience could enlighten her a great deal, however. Flicker was far, far removed from an unthinking beast.
Scraping a hollow for him in the warm sand, she settled the dragonet down.
You wait here. I’ll go hunt. Don’t move!
As you command, mighty Lia.
She hissed in disapproval, wondering meantime if the ability to be sarcastic might count for a soul-sign. Snatching up her Immadian forked dagger, Hualiama rushed out of the cave.
Chapter 7: Waterfalls of Dragons
FRA’ANIOR CLUSTER’S HOT season marked two months of dry heat, wracked daily by violent electrical storms fuelled by the enormous, ever-burning power of the mighty caldera. In the Human-inhabited lands above, the weather would have turned to an unendurable scorching of the twin suns, blasting and browning the grasses and withering the crops. People rested during the heat of the day. Two and a half miles below the rim-Islands, the warmth pressed in as though Lia were stuck inside a Dragon’s fire-belly. Flicker lazed in the full glare of the afternoon suns-shine, while Hualiama sheltered beneath the shade of a prekki tree nearby. She had no desire to turn herself into a fried egg, unlike the dragonet.
“You call that clothing?” Flicker asked, not bothering to crack open an eye.
“That’s right, clothing. In a manner of speaking.”
Lia eyed her new top judiciously. It would not pass for decent apparel in any royal court of the known Island-World, she imagined. Her options were limited, for the material of her attire that fateful morning when Ra’aba staged his revolt had not been designed with rough living in mind. Her ankle-length skirt had now been shortened to mid-thigh, in order to provide enough material to fashion a brief halter top from the remaining scraps.
“Why ‘in a manner of speaking’?” asked the dragonet, mimicking her delivery with the skill of a parakeet.
“Because it doesn’t cover enough of my skin.”
Needlework was not a Hualiama strong point. Fixing Dragonships? Any day. Tinkering with her solo Dragonship was one of her favourite pastimes, adjusting the rigging or figuring out better ways of harnessing an engine’s power. Grease was good. Tiny needles and fine lacework were not. She yelped and sucked her finger. Definitely not!
Explain this nudity taboo to me, said Flicker. Are your female parts not attractive to a male of your kind, that you must cover them up?
Flicker! She clicked her fingers rudely at him. My parts … um …
Tell me, what would a Human male find attractive? Your long, pale straw?
Aye, my straw! Lia had finally learned the word in Dragonish, and her tone turned waspish as he teased her again. I guess … they might …
And your haunches? He grinned toothily. I’ve observed Human males are similar to dragonets in this regard.
I refuse to answer that question, you rude, crude creature.
Lia drew the length of fabric across the middle of her back, brought it around her ribs, crossed it over the essentials, and drew the ends together behind her neck. She tied a knot and adjusted the fit self-consciously, hoping that the dragonet might change the subject.
Flicker continued, So, Human males don’t mind you covering your hide? This is ‘polite’ in Human society?
How do I look?
The dragonet’s eyes whirled with lively curiosity. Hualiama was certain there was another rash of questions coming from the inquisitive dragonet, or one of his ever-sharp insults. He simply did not understand clothing. Neither did she, in this heat, but the thought of dashing barefoot over the blistering black ledge to their little rock pool on the far side of the ledge was too much to contemplate. Was she desperate enough? Nay.
If I confess I don’t find you attractive, that’s bad, right?
Lia burst out laughing. Aha, you remembered that lesson! Well done, Flicker.
So, should I say your breasts are well-formed? Shapely?
Heat exploded into her face. “No!” Lia shouted, trapped between mortification and horror. “Don’t you dare! That’s male dragonet culture, Flicker–your display rituals–the dancing, the flaring wings, stalking a female and breathing fire. Humans are more subtle … well, not always. Islands’ sakes!