"No," Draycos said, his eyes still on the Phookas. "There is no chemical transfer. I take merely a place to rest, and give only companionship and protection in return."
"And advice," Jack added, trying to lighten the tone a little. He couldn't afford to let Draycos slip back into one of these black moods of his. "He gives a lot of advice, too."
"And I'll bet it's sorely needed," Alison said dryly. "No, I was just wondering if there might be more to it than just the Phookas' food."
"Like what?" Jack asked.
"I'm just guessing here," Alison said slowly. "But remember, I saw you playing soldier in the Whinyard's Edge a couple of months ago. You're a lot more confident and capable now than you were then. A lot more."
Jack shrugged. "Maybe I'm just a late bloomer."
"Maybe," Alison said. "But maybe you and Draycos are doing some trading in something besides nutrients. Something like attitudes and skills, maybe."
Jack opened his mouth . . . closed it again. Some of the decisions he'd made back at the slave camp had been suspiciously like those of a certain K'da poet-warrior of his acquaintance. "Draycos?" he invited.
"I do not know," the dragon said. His agitated tail swishing had settled down to the slow circular tip movements that showed he was thinking hard. "No one has ever suggested that such a transfer takes place between K'da and host."
"Maybe the Shontine are already so much like you that no one's ever noticed," Alison suggested. "I'm thinking it might be worth a little experiment."
"What kind of experiment?" Draycos asked, his voice suddenly suspicious.
"A very simple one," Alison said. "I take one of the Phookas."
"No," Jack said, the word coming out reflexively.
"Why not?" Alison asked. "You've got a K'da. Why shouldn't I have one, too?"
"What do you think this is, some kind of style statement?" Jack growled. "These are living, thinking beings."
"Fine—call it an adoption if you want," Alison said patiently. "But it's the simplest way to see if it's the environment that's doing this to them, either the food or their current hosts."
It made sense. Jack had to admit. That was the most irritating part. But still . . . "I don't know," he said hesitantly. "Draycos?"
"I also do not know," the dragon said, his tail back to its earlier restless lashing. "It seems wrong to experiment this way with living beings."
"What are you afraid of?" Alison asked, an edge of challenge in her voice. "That you'll find out that your particular group of K'da is the exception? That this—" she gestured toward the Phookas—"is how K'da usually are?"
Draycos seemed to stiffen, and for a moment Jack thought he could see a little black edging into the gold scales. Was that really what the dragon was thinking? "That's ridiculous," he jumped in before the dragon could respond. "Draycos and his people helped plan and stage a revolt against slavers back when—"
"Yes, Alison," Draycos said quietly. "That is indeed what I fear."
For a long minute no one spoke. "I'm sorry," Alison said at last. And she really did look sorry, Jack thought. "If it helps, I don't really believe that."
"Yet the universe is what it is," Draycos said. "What we believe or do not believe does not affect that reality."
"Then let's settle it," Jack said, his mind suddenly made up. "Uncle Virgil always used to say that no fact was as scary as uncertainty. Let's grab a Phooka, stick him on Alison's back, and see what happens."
"You have such a way with words," Alison murmured.
"Shut up," Jack advised her, his eyes on Draycos. "Draycos?"
There was a shuffling sound behind him, and Jack turned to see Hren waddling toward them. "We are thirsty, young Jack," the Erassva said.
"There should be some water ahead," Jack told him, getting to his feet. "If you'll collect the others, we'll get moving."
"Yes, young Jack." Hren headed back toward the other Erassvas.
Jack turned back to Draycos. "We need a decision here, buddy," Jack said. "Do you want to pick one of the Phookas, or should Alison and I do it?"
For another moment Draycos was silent. "Who would you choose?"
"No contest," Jack said. "Has to be Taneem."
"Taneem?" Alison asked.
"The gray one with the silver eyes," Jack told her. "She seems to have a lot more understanding than the rest of her friends. Not to mention a lot more curiosity about what's going on."
"Sounds like a good candidate," Alison said, looking around. "You see her anywhere?"
A bit of gray beside a squat bush caught Jack's eye. "Over there," he said, pointing. "I'll go get her."
"Hold it," Alison said. "Let me try something. Taneem? Taneem, come here."
The gray head appeared around the side of the bush, and Jack could almost imagine a quizzical look on her triangular face. "Come here, Taneem," Alison repeated.
And with that, the Phooka came the rest of the way around the bush and trotted over to them.
"You're right," Alison said to Jack as the Phooka came to a halt at her side. "So. How exactly do I do this?"
Jack glanced at Draycos, but the dragon remained silent. "Hold out your hand to her, palm upward," he suggested. "That's how they usually get aboard the Erassvas."
"Like this?" Alison asked, holding out her hand tentatively toward Taneem as instructed. Now that the moment had arrived, the girl seemed to be having a few second thoughts. "I don't need to take hold of her head or muzzle or anything?"
"No," Jack said. "Okay, Taneem. Go ahead. Go onto Alison."
Taneem looked at Jack, then Alison, then Draycos, and back to Alison. Then, looking almost as hesitant about it as Alison, she lifted one of her forelegs and set the paw on Alison's palm.
And with a flicker of gray scales, she vanished up Alison's sleeve.
Alison jerked like she'd touched a live wire. "Good—" She broke off with a strangled gasp, her whole body twitching violently. "Good God in heaven," she breathed, settling down a little. "Whoa. That's . . . that's really intense."
"It'll get easier," Jack said, watching her closely. So far she looked all right. "How do you feel?"
"Weird," Alison said. She started to rub her stomach, then paused. "Is it safe to touch her? I mean, I'm not going to accidentally scratch her off, am I?"
"No, no," Jack assured her. "She's solid and strong and she isn't going anywhere. At least, not until she decides to get off."
Alison lifted her shirt a little, peering down at her shoulders and chest. "This is incredible," she said. "I'd never have dreamed . . . I can't even think of anything to say."
"Well, that's a first," Jack said. "Meanwhile, the Erassvas are thirsty. You feel up to taking point, or do you want me to do it?"
Alison gave her new companion a last look, then lifted her eyes resolutely away. "I can do it," she said, all brisk business again. "Let's go find Greenie and get out of here."
CHAPTER 18
They gathered their traveling companions together, and with Alison and Greenie in the lead they once again headed north toward the river.
Jack had hoped to stay close to Alison during the march, or at least to find time here and there to check on her. But with the Kodiak's attack now in the—for them—distant past, the Phookas and Erassvas had settled back into their old, careless ways. The Phookas again wandered freely, rushing off to grab a quick bite or see something interesting, and Jack again found himself being run off his feet trying to keep the herd together.
The Erassvas, for their part, began complaining about their thirst in increasingly loud voices. If the mercenaries were anywhere nearby, Jack thought sourly, they'd be able to find their quarry with their eyes closed.