cup to mine, a little more carefully than I usually do. “You fulfilled your mission for your chief. There is great honor in that. You are extremely skillful and focused. I am proud to have had a small part of the success.”
“A big part,” I correct him. “None of this would have happened without you. This is our success, Brank’ox. Not just mine.”
“We were both needed,” he concedes. “We share the glory.”
“We do. Like we share so many other things.”
He casually puts his arm around me “I notice we have been here for many days, and still there has been no visit from Mia and her dragon.”
I take a sip of the not-tequila, feeling the spirit burn its way down my throat. “Delyah doesn’t want a lot of people to know what we’re doing here. And anyway, Kyandros flies wherever he wants. Mia can only suggest and ask, but he often does something else.”
“It’s a faithless thing, a dragon. I marvel at how two of them are tolerated in the tribe.”
“They can be difficult,” I agree. “But they stay mostly to themselves. Not sure how it will continue, though. I mean, I like both Mia and Eleanor. But they’ve set themselves apart a little, marrying dragons. And then living in a tribe of dragon slayers. The tribe is a little more tense now than before. Some of the men stare at the dragons like they want to kill them.”
Brank’ox sniffs the booze and takes a sip. “Those two will not like what you’ve done here.”
“Probably not. They are the ones we’re worried about, mostly. The gunpowder is obviously meant as a weapon against dragons. But there are other reasons, too. On Earth, gunpowder has been used for some pretty bad things. Killing and wars and murder. A lot of the girls say we shouldn’t repeat those mistakes here on Xren.”
He frowns. “Surely, defending oneself against a deadly enemy is not a mistake?”
“Some of us agree with that. And some say that there must be better ways. It’s hard to know what to think. What if some of the tribes get access to guns and gunpowder? I mean, not right now. Not today. Not this year. But ten years from now? Will they be able to stop themselves from going to a neighboring tribe and killing everyone there, using guns?”
“Killing from a distance,” Brank’ox ponders, “not letting the attacked warriors get close enough to use their swords. It would be extremely unfair. Yes, I see the problem.”
I stretch and lean into him, the alcohol making me relax. “We don’t have to solve that problem now. Brank’ox, can you take out your harp?”
He takes it out and assembles it.
I put my hand under the furs and fish out the wooden object there. “I said I wanted to give you something. This is it.”
I hand it over, suddenly feeling nervous. He does like that harp, and he showed me great trust when he let me hear it. If he’s like any other artist, he’s sensitive about his music. I hope I won’t offend him.
He turns the hollowed-out wooden block over in his hands. It has very thin walls and a glued-on lid with a circular hole that you just might be able to squeeze a grapefruit through. “It’s very nice. For keeping something in?”
“I’ll show you. Hand me your harp? Thanks.” I place the harp on top of the box. “It goes like this. May I fasten them with a thin string?”
Brank’ox nods, puzzled.
I quickly tie the box to the harp, as tight as I dare, then hand the harp back. “Play something.”
He plucks a string, then another, frowning.
He plays them all in quick succession.
Then he breaks into happy, delighted laughter. “It sounds so... rich!”
I grin. Indeed, the primitive resonance box right under his strings makes each note much louder and fuller. Sure, it’s not exactly a Stradivarius. It’s still out of tune, but at least it’s more proudly out of tune.
I cling to his upper arm, eager that he should understand I didn’t want to take over his art, just increase its reach. “I want your music to be loud, my warrior. There are no dangers here. Play so everyone can hear. Fill the world with it.”
He plucks more strings and even strums across them a couple of times. “Marvelous! I had wondered how to make the sounds more pleasant to the ear, less thin. My love, is there nothing you can’t do?”
“Not much,” I admit through happy tears. I’m totally thrilled