She hugged the thought of the respect on his face. It drove away the fear that she’d never see the three of them again.
16
Charge Ottavia,
I write you in the hope that what little news I have will be relayed to the rest of the troupe. I also write to exercise myself—I am so used to speaking the Galantine tongue I wonder if I need to use my native language so as not to forget it entirely. Fespanarax has taught me enough Drakine now so I can follow simple commands in his feeding, grooming, and care, so I hardly use it with him, either.
First, I must relay some news for you to pass to Hael Dun Huss and his wingmen who were friends with our Galia (when she was ours) and whoever else might ask of us. I received one letter from the Baroness Galia Dandas (as she is now and I won’t trouble you with the other titles) with news that she is happy and in good health. She had hopes of starting a family quickly but has not yet been blessed. Her life has other interests, but unfortunately she couldn’t be explicit as they are military in nature, I understand, having to do with her husband’s command.
As for me, I am glad the winter has passed. The trips on Fespanarax will resume soon, as the plateau with the silver mine I mentioned is hospitable again with winter over and the miners shall return. As for this pleasant valley, the only complaint is tedium. One grows tired of the same walks, the same society, the same conversations. The view has altered slightly, however. The volcano to the north opened up a new fissure on our side of the mountain range, and on clear nights you can sometimes see the fire, which looks to me like a ship burning signal-candles, but bigger.
I am entertained in the late afternoon as the dinner is being set out whenever I wish to be by the many children of my host’s family, but perhaps you have to actually be related to them to truly delight in their exhibitions. I long to dance again with the troupe. It’s too bad the costumes and style are still a little too foreign to the Galantines than to audiences in places like Zland, as some of the social dancers are skilled and I have never heard better musicians. It would be wonderful to have a few here to break the monotony and let me truly dance.
Long live the Republic! The censors may ink that out, but they can’t remove it from my heart.
I leave you now, having filled up the piece of paper my host considers sufficient,
Ileth of the Serpentine
The glow of the visit from “her” (as she liked to think of them) Dragoneers warmed her until the balmy spring sun returned, earlier than she’d ever experienced. She welcomed it. In the north, sixteen was an important year in a girl’s life. Some took jobs and started earning for their families, some courted with a serious eye toward marriage, a few took religious orders, but most everyone thought it the year to do the first trial swim in the deeper waters of adulthood.
She did leave one detail from Galia’s letter out of her own. Galia had asked her about drinking dragon blood and fertility, not for her, but for her husband. Galia was contemplating a visit to Chapalaine and Fespanarax for that express purpose. Ileth, speaking in general terms in a return letter, professed ignorance of the exact effects on men (true!) and warned her against its use save in infrequent circumstances (also true, unless Fespanarax was lying).
She suspected the Baron had either received a similar letter from Galia or been told by his wife. Ileth believed Galia corresponded regularly with the Baroness because she sometimes relayed some small bit of news like the fact that Galia had found friends among some of the wives around camp, saying they were quite agreeable but not the least bit stimulating. The Baron relayed in a conversation, seemingly out of nowhere, an anecdote of a former game warden on his lands who had been caught trying to bleed Fespanarax, and had escaped a conviction of witchcraft only by being publicly lashed before volunteering for service in the Fencibles. Ileth, who still knew little about the Galantines on the battlefield, did understand thanks to the unfortunate scene with the soup on that fast day with Dandas that the Fencibles had the most desperate and dangerous work of all the Galantine companies, as they were charged with taking down dragons.
“Could just as well be called a death sentence. Chances are you get burned either way,” the Baron had sighed, scratching his dog’s ears.
The first visit to the plateau to deliver kegs of beer went much as the others. The Tentkeeper spoke of a supply of wood he now had enough money to have conveyed to the plateau, so he could have the beginnings of an actual tavern. He had begun to lay out big stones for the foundation. He was hopeful that if he could get it built, Ileth would perform again as a ceremonial opening to get the place open with an appropriate spectacle, even some real musicians instead of men shaking pebbles in pans and clacking spoons.
She and Fespanarax were descending to Chapalaine after the first run when she noticed much of the Baron’s family outdoors, looking at her. No, not at her; she looked behind her and saw great clouds of dark smoke boiling up from the mountain, dark and different from the usual steam. Arcs of lava splashed up from the Cracked Cauldron like a heavy surf hitting a boat.
She decided it would be best to land nearer the Baron’s family and asked Fespanarax if he would set down by the grounds there.
Once off Fespanarax, she felt the ground tremble. It was unsettling.
“The Cauldron’s erupting. We’re quite safe,” the Baron said. “Still, it’s lucky for us the wind is from the southwest today. If it were a winter wind, some of the ash might even reach Chapalaine. Too bad about those miners. I suppose we won’t be selling beer to them anymore.”
“What?”
“Oh, they’re doomed,” the Baron said. “They’re right downwind.”
She begged the Baron for some good rope. She had to produce tears, but once he finally agreed, his livestock people were summoned and instructed. She hurried back to Fespanarax. “We have to help the miners.”
“We?” Fespanarax said. “I don’t know that I have to do anything but obey the terms of my confinement.”
“They’re trapped up there. The path faces the volcano, if it even exists.” The Baron’s men were bringing lines, twine, old bridle leather, everything they could find. Ileth started sorting through it.
“Hundreds of people? You must be mad!”
“Children, then. As many as we can,” Ileth said.
“A pointless risk of my wings. Volcanoes are nothing to mess about with when they erupt.”
“I’m quite rich, you know.” She was a terrible liar. Well, no, actually she was good at lying. That is what was terrible.
“They don’t make rich girls dancers.”
“My family gave me this when I left for the Serpentine,” she said, holding up her whistle. “Would a poor family have a whistle like this made?”
Fespanarax sniffed it and his mouth started to run with thick saliva. “I suppose not. Consider it a down payment.”
“What?”
“Let me eat it and I will fly for you.”
“It’s, it’s not even a mouthful for you. Wh-What good could it possibly do you?”
“It could show me you’re in earnest about paying your debts.”
There was nothing to do. She gave it to him. As she’d predicted, it was practically nothing to swallow.