* * *
Luke held his head as he sat up for the second time in the day. The pounding in his temples told him--her? Luke couldn't decide how he wanted to go from here--that the body was definitely alive. The constant beeping told Luke that he was in a hospital. He settled on him for now, until it was confirmed that the body was female. Of course, the walls had to be that drab grey color that made people want to go crazy. Getting up from the bed, Luke definitely felt the weight shift, especially on his chest.
“Hello? Nurse? Doctor? Anyone?”
Being a bit off, he forgot to press the button to call a nurse. Right now, he just wanted that off feeling to go away. It was after getting up that the constant, unrestrained bouncing told him what it was. Sighing, Luke sat on the edge of the bed and pressed the nurse call button.
Shortly after, a little rat girl--the nurse judging by her outfit--came in holding a tray. When she saw that he was up, the tray dropped and she became flustered, "y…y…you're awake, welcome back to the land of the living, Madam." Luke rolled his eyes, waiting for her to gain composure. Once the rat girl did, she walked over to the patient and began to take vital signs and check that everything was correct. "You've been here for the past couple of days, after being found in the forest passed out." The woman moved over and looked at the instruments, "well, all your vitals seem normal." The woman smiled, "Do you remember what you were doing all the way out there or who you are? If not, your Identification tablet is on the table next to you.”
Luke blinks "madam?” Then he looked down. “oh…right…I…wait…Identification tablet? What’s that? …Forest? Yes, I was in a forest, then I hit my head and ended up here." Luke shook his head, only able to remember what she said and finally sees the deep, rich red hair with a hint of gold in it. Luke still felt off. Like all of this was a dream that he couldn’t wake up from. Luke especially thought this true considering the weights that were on his chest.
He tugged on the hair, pulling some down into his vision. Luke winced as he tugged a little harder, confirming that it is not a wig. His eyes opened wide at this, his jaw going slack before he recovered. "I'm…I'm not a woman, though! The last thing I remember was getting ready to go on a date…in…ummm…Philadelphia? No. Balti...no...Pittsburgh!" He nodded, following the bounce of his--her--hair and trying to stop the gentle sway of her chest from tall the shaking and bouncing she had done so far. "I was in Pittsburgh in the year 2013…I was getting ready to go out on a date with the boss' daughter. My name is Luke Black." He grabbed his chest this time, definitely nothing lewd but for emphasis. “And I am definitely NOT female!”
The nurse blinked, not expecting this. She knew some amnesia patients would think or ‘know’ they were someone else but she hadn’t expected this much. “No, dearie, It is 2061. You are at Royal Melbourne Hospital, City Campus on Sol-three. The world war is over…don't you remember the war? It was only a few years ago!” She tsks. “I should get the doctor.” The rat turned back to Luke. “But you’re going to be okay…Lisa…oh your glasses are the table. You’re free to take a shower because it’ll probably be a bit before the doctor gets here.”
Luke nodded again, it was really all he could do--this was all too much! Grabbing the glasses, he had no idea why he was brought to this place or this time, unless it was a mistake, sitting back. “Oh! Miss? Before you go, can I get a hand mir…" Just sighed as the rat had left already. "Never mind then, I’ll take that shower then.” Luke started to take off the hospital gown, closing the door to the bathroom behind him, hoping for a little bit of privacy before the doctor came.
"World war? Anthros? Come on! Geez, Luke, what have you gotten yourself into? How did you get yourself into this? That vortex…but was it magical or scientific in nature. I'm guessing scientific since she mentioned some 'IDTab'..but it could be a mix too..wait, what the hell am I saying!?"
Looking into the mirror that hung on the wall, after entering the bathroom, Luke was happy. He left out a sigh of relief. He wasn't disfigured. Definitely female but not disfigured and alive—that's all that matters. The girl's face in the mirror was pretty. She had the hard lines of a feline female athlete with the softness contrasting that well. Her nose was small on her short muzzle but fit her face and her cheekbones were high. She stared back at he from the mirror with ocean blue eyes that showed a mischievous nature. Her plump, bow shaped lips seem to have a slight smile permanently on them. It was still odd to see that midnight black--or was it purple, it was hard to tell in this light--fur with that feline face. She had the look of a mature, sexy woman. She was classy but older looking--he had to guess about mid-thirties.
“Not bad. I guess. I wonder what I’m doing in Australia though. Maybe a vacation?”
She wore little, frame-less glasses he noticed, that stayed on her face by a little, invisible wire . He--she--was also now a redhead—a mane of deep, rich red that contained hints of gold. It had the eternal bedhead look. Luke liked that style, on women that weren't him, it was bouncy and fun. It was also nice to run his fingers through. Her neck was long and muscular in a feminine way. If his face was any indication, he could be a model. Luke knew he had lost some height, down from six foot five inches, as a human of course, judging by much larger everything looked. As he walked over to the small shower, Luke hoped that this “Lisa’s” family or friends had called.
She looked good even if a little on the plush side. She wasn't fat nor was she muscular. What she was, he noticed, was big in all the right places--and it made for a very attractive figure. Her breasts were high and perky but very huge. He'd just hate to see the bras he'd have to buy now that he was her. Running his hands over those wider than average hips, her long, thin tail flicked over top that huge backside behind her.
“… Oi! Stupid tail! Now I know why they call girls ‘bootylicious’. Geez, she works out or something, talk ‘bout buns of steel!”
Luke stopped his inspections realizing that his thighs were going to be pretty much like the rest of him--not too muscled, not fat just big in all the right places. Before jumping in, he went out of the room real quick and grabbed a towel from the hospital closet to dry off.
“Well, now. This is interesting. So it seems that I’m in this body for the long haul for whatever reason…guess I better make the most of it.” he shook his head. “Stranger in a strange land indeed. Well, the IDTablet or whatever she called it from the limited usage and understanding I have it said her--my-- name is Lisa Black…hmm…how odd. Anyway, she’s thirty-six years old..not bad fer that age. I guess that’s who I am…”
Walking out of the bathroom, Luke couldn't help but look around the room thinking that her clothes might be on a chair or in a closet. Sighing, she picked up her IDTab and managed to start a game. Getting into the game, the panther female never noticed when the small, young looking male mouse walked into the room. He stood there for a moment or two, before finally grabbing her attention.
"Ahem…"
Lisa jumped a little bit and almost broke the phone sized device. Turning with a red blush under her black fur, the tail behind her went rigid as she finally noticed him. Rubbing the back of her head, the former human let out a soft, embarrassed chuckle.
"umm..what's up, Doc?"
The mouse moved to the area of the room with the chair. He pushed the orange, plastic chair to the bed and sat down. Next, he pulled out a tablet and pressed down on the screen presumably opening some kind of application for note taking or to show her some readings. The newly created, for lack of a term, feline just watched in fascination.
"My name is Doctor Alex Maus. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Black. My area of expertise is neuromagical studies. Basically, I study wavelengths of the brain to determine if a person has had something magical done to them."
Lisa could only nod, still a little dumbfounded. She was more surprised, still, at the idea of a talking mouse than at the idea that magic existed and lived side by side with science in this time and dimension. Motioning the docto
r continue, the female lead back to take some of the pressure of her back.
"Now the nurse, Millie, told me that when you woke up you did not remember being born Lisa Black but instead made mention of Luke Black. You also said that you were human. Is this true, Miss?"
"Yes, Doctor Maus. It is. The last thing I remember, as I told her is getting ready for a date..” The barely concealed exasperation could be heard in her voice. “then I was sucked into a purple whirlpool or vortex. I'm assuming, based on what you said, that someone was try..pardon me.." She chuckled a little bit, "a spell for a lack of a term.." It sounded silly the moment it left her mouth--a magic spell! But here she was as proof.
The mouse sat back in the chair and scribbled down notes as fast as his fingers could clack the digital keys on the screen. Then he pulled up something else with a flick of his finger. Turning the seven inch tablet around, Luke--Lisa, he should get used to that, scrolled through the information.
"These are a side by side comparison of the old Lisa's brain wavelengths versus your wavelengths. Do you notice anything odd about them?"
Lisa squinted then pulled on the frameless glasses, having nearly forgotten about them. Looking between the doctor and the screen, the feline peered in a little harder. Her degree, as a human, was in law not medicine. Taking a moment, she finally cleared it up for herself, though it was in the most simplistic of ways.
"Hers are shorter and abruptly stop. Mine are longer and keep going?"
The mouse nodded, a slight smile showing on his face. Putting the tablet down for now, Doctor Maus took her paws into his and squeezed. Sighing the mouse closed his eyes for a moment, both of them deeply breathing before the doctor opened them.
"Yes, that is correct. You are in a new world, m'dear, as a new person. It seems that someone accidentally used magic to gain access to your dimension and unfortunately or fortunately it brought you here and into her body. We can't take you back, but we can help you get clothing and contact friends and family to explain what happened. I've left a pair of pants and a shirt in the upper left drawer for you when you didn't pay attention to me walking in. Do you want us to contact your--Lisa's--family and tell them the news and get them to take you to their home?"
Lisa nodded and sighed, trying not to cry or look at that doctor. Emotions flooded her as the doctor left the room. She sat there for a moment too before closing her eyes and laying back.
Nothing Special
by Sophie Anderson
I wasn’t anything special, just the middle child of a middle-class family in the middle of America. That’s why it was beyond my wildest dreams that one hot afternoon in August I’d find something that would make me special.
Now, as I sit here bundled in my jacket on top of my apartment complex’s roof, staring at the night sky and waiting for them to come, I look to my side where my constant companion of the last ten years is sleeping. He knows they won’t be here until the small hours of the morning, but I am impatient and insisted on waiting outside the whole night. As with so many silly things I’ve done in the past, he just smiled and said, “Do as you will.”
We met for the first time one day when I was walking home from high school at age fifteen. The cicadas were clacking and rustling around me and I saw a glimmer ahead of me near the ground just off to the side of the road. At first I thought it was a heat shimmer from the pavement, but as I got closer, it became more distinct, not less, as heat shimmers usual do. I stepped off the road and crouched down next to the shimmer. It was mesmerizing in a way. I looked around for a stick, growing up in the desert, I knew better than to touch anything with my bare hand first. Who knew if it would bite you, burn you or skewer you. Finding a suitable stick, I poked at the shimmer. It wobbled around and the end of my stick disappeared a bit, but when I pulled it back out, it reappeared.
Shocked, I stood back up for a moment. This was way too weird, like something out of a science fiction novel. Nothing made things disappear like this. After a few moments, I gave an internal shrug, threw caution to the wind and reached for the shimmering. I saw my hand disappear a few inches before it stuck something. Feeling around what my eyes said wasn’t there, I could tell it was some sort of metal shaped like a wedge. I got a grip on it and lifted. It wasn’t unbearably heavy, but I had to steady it with my other hand as I hefted it. I stood there staring at my hands lost in a shimmering light and wondered how this could be happening.
Suddenly, the shimmering light disappeared and I could see what was in my hands. It was a metal construct, it looked like a giant metal slice of cheese. It had a bit towards the wider end of the wedge that expanded out for a couple inches and on the opposite end from the point had there was a weird glowing to the metal. I turned it over a couple times in my hands. There were no seams or lines that I could see. No place where the metal pieces were welded together and it was too light to be carved from solid metal.
Deciding it warranted further study, but somewhere out of the heat, I carried it home with me. The second weird thing I noticed, and almost missed the first time was that when I set the thing down on my desk in my room, it was actually floating a few inches above the desk. I had even started to walk away before a glint of light made me look back and I saw it hovering. Of course, I had to test the theory, so I ran a ruler under it; nothing was holding it up. That justified my immediate attention. I sat down at my desk and started running my fingers along the metal, trying to find a clasp or anything. Nothing. It was entirely sealed throughout the entire length, top and bottom. I kept at it for an hour before finally getting frustrated, so I put it aside on the floor beside the desk while I got down to homework for the night. At eleven-thirty, I turned off the lights and went to bed.
At three AM, I was awakened by a humming noise and blinding white light. Turning over, I saw it was coming from beside my desk. The object! I ran to it and discovered a seam had opened in the top, where it bulged out larger, and it was slowly coming open like a clam-shell. I crouched down beside it and held my breath as my eyes adjusted to the light streaming out from inside it. When it was open enough that I could see inside, I saw a tiny creature about six inches tall, staring up at me from what I thought must be some sort of a pilot’s console.
We stared at each other for a few long moments and then I heard it speak, directly into my mind in a flutey voice. “Hello Kristy.” My jaw dropped.
“You know my name?”
The alien nodded. “I know about you now. I have been listening to your thoughts as you sleep. I have chosen you.”
“Chosen me?”
Again the flutey, musical voice in my head. “My name is Jiskira.” The alien said and I was suddenly overwhelmed by the impression that he was a male. “I am from a planet far from here.” He said gesturing at the sky.
“You’re an alien?” I asked, just to clarify.
He nodded. “Indeed.” The voice seemed amused. “I came here in advanced of our diplomatic envoys to study humanity; its customs and beliefs, its language. To know what humanity is really about.”
I thought about that for a second. “Are you saying you chose me to be first contact?” I asked in a small voice.
“I did not choose. I was guided here by…” Jiskira paused. “It is hard to translate.” He apologized. “It is the power that we believe guides the universe.” He started to explain. “We call it Shy'ther, but loosely translated it would the ‘The Oneness’.” He gave a whispery laugh. “But that is a lesson for another day.”
“How long are you going to be staying?” I asked sitting down next to his ship.
“I am here ten years. That is when the others arrive from my planet.”
“Ten years?!” I exclaimed.
“How else am I to know your species well enough to be a guide for my people when they make contact with your world leaders?”
“And I’m the human you’re going to learn from?” I asked nervously.
“Among other ways, but you will be my primary source of observation.”
/>
I sat a moment to think about that.
“But why me? I’m nobody, just a high school kid from a boring family in a boring town.”
“Exactly.” was the response. “You are a normal, average human, and that is who we wish to know.”
I thought about that. “I guess I can see the reasoning in that. But what will I have to do? Keep a journal? Or, like, report to you every day or something?”
I got another musical laugh in my mind. “Oh no. I will be with you.”
“Um…” I hesitated. “I don’t mean to burst your bubble but, people are gonna notice if I start walking around with an alien, even one as small as you, and I assume you want keep this on the down low, right?”
Jiskira looked at me in confusion for a minute. “The translator processed all your words, but I think some of them must be colloquialisms, because they did not make sense.”
I rummaged in my memory for the meaning of colloquialisms; it came to me in a minute and I laughed nervously. “Oh. Yes. Sorry. Um…” I thought about what I said and rephrased. “I don’t mean to tell you you can’t live with me, but if anyone sees you then we won’t be able to keep it a secret that there is an alien living with me.”
“Aah. Yes. I have a way to fix this problem.” Jiskira said and rummaged in a little compartment, pulling out what appeared to be a watch-like device and strapped it to his wrist. He pushed a button and disappeared from sight in a shimmer of light similar to what the ship was doing when I found it, except after a moment the shimmering stopped and he was simply invisible.
“Amazing!” I exclaimed. He reappeared moments later, having climbed out of his ship to stand on top of it..
“This is how I won’t be seen.”
I took a closer look at him now that he was outside the ship. He was humanoid, with two arms, two legs a torso and head. He was covered it what appeared to be short, light blue fur, with slightly darker splotches of color at random places on him. his face was triangular, with a pointed chin, full plum colored lips and a button of a nose, but it was the eyes that held my attention the most. They were placed on stalks that extended above his head on antennae. They were a lovely green opalescent color and they could look independently of each other too. His arms were about the same length as a humans proportionally, but his hands had only three fingers each, two main fingers and an opposable thumb. He was dressed in a full body jumpsuit of some sort of metallic cloth that left just his hand and head bare.
We studied each other in silence for a moment, the weight of what he was asking of me finally sinking in.
Then he spoke. “Do you accept this role as my guide to humanity?”
I hesitated for a moment and then responded with conviction, “Yes. Yes I do.” Jiskira responded with a brilliant smile. “Then Kristy, it is my pleasure, on behalf of the planet Ash'shy'or, to be the first to greet you.” He said and made a triangle symbol with his hands in front of him.
And that’s how I met Jiskira. From that day, everything changed. I had a constant companion with me for the next ten years. He was with me when I took my driving test two months after we met; quietly congratulating me in my mind when I passed. He was with me when I had my first kiss, sitting in the movie theaters. He was with me when I graduated high school, sitting on my shoulder as I walked across the stage to get my diploma, my proud parents beaming at me from the stands. He was with me when I received word that I was accepted into the University of I had chosen, clinging to my belt loops as I danced around the house with excitement.
He was there during my triumphs. But he was also with me during my failures, my embarrassments, my disappointments and my heart breaks. He kept me from panicking when I got into my first car accident, a slight fender bender driving home from school one day. I had a friend with me the first lonely nights I spent in the college dorm rooms, where I knew no one and was homesick for my family and home a thousand miles away. He was there the day I failed my first college test because I hadn’t studied at all for it. He was there the night I turned 21 and went out drinking with my college friends. And the night four months later when for the first and last time ever I got so drunk I was in the bathroom for hours, vomiting up my stomach contents. He was there to comfort me when my mother called to tell me that my favorite grandfather had died. He was there when my boyfriend of three years broke up with me because he found someone hotter; and when I found someone new in my life to replace the ex-boyfriend. I never really stayed with anybody long though. I already had a man in my life, I liked to joke with Jiskira, and I was usually pretty busy concentrating on school or work to keep a steady boyfriend.
Through it all, he never judged, never said things like you shouldn’t do that or why did you do something that incredibly stupid, even though I’m sure he should have at times. He would give me advice if I asked for it, always with the caution that he only had a limited knowledge with which to form an opinion. I found that despite that, if I could swallow my pride enough to ask for advice, he had an incredible insight into situations and people.
Of course, there were days where the secret weighed heavily on me. I wanted to tell someone about this other person that I was living my life with, but the consequences would be too great to take the risk. So I held my tongue when my friends discussed life on other worlds, or made up some excuse when my parents wanted to know who I was talking to when they heard me by myself in my bedroom at night. I held my tongue and hoped they would forgive me when the truth came out at the end of the ten years.
I’m fairly positive having Jiskira in my life influenced my decision to study world politics and get a degree in Global Studies in college. I wasn’t sure exactly what was going to happen when the rest of the envoys from Ash’shy’or’ arrived, but I had the vague hope that I would be a part of it. I know he has saved my life at least once by having me turn away a guy at a bar one night in college; all Jiskira would say is that the man gave him ‘the creeps’ and that was good enough for me. Days later that same man was on the news for kidnapping and raping a girl that looked a lot like me.
In those ten years I also learned a lot about his people as well. His species came from the fourth planet in system with a blue star. One time when I had the opportunity to look through a telescope, he pointed out to me where it would be, but he explained that no telescope I had access to would be powerful enough to see it. It had a green sky and blue grass, which is where his people got their coloring from, adapting to blend in and camouflage with the grass.
On his planet, there were actually two intelligent species that developed; his people, the Kalayin, and another, much bigger race, the Shy’Dra. The other race was very willowy and tall; usually at least six feet tall but could grow to seven or eight feet tall. They didn’t have fur like Jiskira’s species, but smooth scales, like a snake or lizard. They were mostly different hues of opalescent greens and green-greys, but some could be different shades of brown. They walked upright, on two legs like humans, but had tails to help them balance. Their arms had two elbows so that they were incredibly flexible when reaching for things or gesturing and their fingers were tipped with claws. Jiskira said they were the most incredibly beautiful dancers he had ever seen. Their heads were long and narrow ovals and they had perfectly round eyes with slit pupils like a snake or cat.
And while there was peace between their peoples now, there had been devastating wars a thousand years ago that people still talked about in hushed whispers. Jiskira’s people had developed telepathy, and had no vocal cords, their mouths were used strictly for consuming nutrients. It brought a whole new meaning to talking with your mouth full. the Shy’Dra, however, had developed vocal cords and spoke out loud. Jiskira was both envious of them and not. Speaking would be an interesting experience, however, the Shy’Dra were having to learn to speak a new language out loud, and that meant learning to move their mouths in new ways, whereas all he had to do was know the words.
Jiskira had volunteered for this mission, but the final choice of w
hich candidate to send had been decided by the council of elders, three of each species and one elected Elder that could be of either species whose job it was to break ties during votes. Ours was not the first planet they had initiated first contact on, but the first time they had, it had gone horribly wrong, hence the reason Jiskira was here, when they had sent someone ahead to integrate with society ahead of time, the process had gone much smoother. He had left behind a mate on Ash’shy’or, her name was Jiskassa, but she was to be coming on the ship with the envoys. I could tell that he missed her very much. I sometimes felt bad for him, being stuck on an different planet with only humans for company. I asked him once, if he was ever lonely on such an alien planet and he replied with a smile, “Sometimes I am lonely, but it is no longer an alien planet to me, and that helps.”
During the summer between my junior and senior year of college, I interned in Washington D.C. with the Foreign Services Office and when I graduated, I applied for and was offered a job there as a low level aide. I am a senior aide now, and if tonight doesn’t change everything, which I’m sure it will, I’m sure I would be promoted to a full Foreign Services Officer in the next year. What a crazy journey the last ten years had been; I went from being a nobody to being a representative for humanity, it was still a little crazy to think about even now.
I came back to the present when Jiskira stirred at my side, he sat up and then carefully climbed onto my knee to stand facing the north. He looked at me before pointing off into the night sky. “They are here.”
The Dragon, Nitusomin
by D. Bryant
Dragons do not speak with tongue or mouth. To do so would be impossible, though the reality is almost as difficult to explain. I suppose I must be bothered with such explanations if you are to have any chance of understanding what I will narrate. So let us both gather what patience we can and clutch it with every tooth and claw for a few moments as I try.
Our pride is more than a feeling. It is a force as powerful as our fire and crafty like our wit. Casting subtle enchantments as our infamy grows or dies, twisting the perceptions of those around us like a candle alters shadows. If we are proud, then we are given an inner voice. One not summoned from our throat, but from the soul. This voice becomes clearer and more persuasive if a drake or draka holds themselves in high esteem.
We may pretend to form words, to deceive you and protect ourselves from abuse against such quirks. If we approve of our appearance and think ourselves handsome or a marvel upon the eyes, as a beggar in a fresh cloak. Then we generate a glamor that gives a disarming glimmer and tint to our scales. While a scar-ridden dragon who sports in war, like a child in mud, will carry a fearsome and chilling presence. If we were not plagued with an overwhelming hunger for perfection and praise, all creatures would likely grovel before us in awe. Unfortunately this is not the case.
In spite of these gifts, our magnificence is often ignored. For when others speak of dragons, they praise little beyond our wealth. It is tangible and easily admired by the simplest of minds. I'll admit a mound of gold comforts the mind and adorns even a vast lair, but there is so much more to us than a delight in precious metals. But I might as well start there and dispel what lies you've poisoned your thoughts with. If you were to scorn our avaricious nature, we would only snort in agreement. We do not loathe greed while secretly lusting for it. We see it as the motive it is, not a vice. And if you called us ravenous in our pursuit of riches, we may even grace you with a “too kind”, though who or what is too kind we will likely not reveal. We gather such hoards because we desire what others envy and reducing a kingdom's fortune to nothing more than a mattress, is the sort of mockery that would amuse almost any dragon.
So if you have grasped what I've said so far, you should understand only one trait would be less appealing in a drake than being stringy, frail, and weighing more in his scales than everything they hold. This is of course being a coward. I may have been lean as rope from nose to tail, but I was not a coward. I was however greatly sickened by blood which many mistook for a weakness of cowardice. They were fools, but a coward I remained.
When cornered by the substance, I become light headed. My legs tremble, my wings sag, and my tail goes limp as a drowned worm. I would stumble away as I struggled to breathe before collapsing into a coiled heap. Remaining there until the malady fades and my strength returns. More than a basin of the dark fluid and my flesh becomes pale beneath my ruffling scales. A hollow expression shadows my face as if my soul has fled far from the horrors of mortality. And these reactions occur without exception and no warning will aid me. I have suffered this curse so often, that I can not help but describe them as more than honest facts as I’d prefer.
While under such hardships, it was more than difficult for me to be a dragon of glory and riches. As well as entirely impracticable when I surrendered my time to scholarly desires for the distractions they provided. My name would never be immortalized by infamy or even familiar around a hearth like Ritmore or Celeranis. Yet through efforts of a less dangerous nature than of my kin, but no less grand, I kept a respectable heap of treasure. One that until recently, I would have been proud to say weighed closer to thirty pounds, than the even twenty-five it appeared. I had small ambitions true, but I was content. A truth few dragons can speak. However I had hoped the privileges of bearing the name, Nitusomin, may yet get another addition to its admittedly brief list. The day's start would suggest otherwise if I'd been superstitious.
“Tivina.” I hissed and closed the cloth package. “You wouldn't happen to know whose foot this is, would you?” A younger green draka poked her head up from behind an accumulating wall of tomes. Her scales flickering various shades of green in her distress and asked.
“Again? So sorry, I didn't smell anything odd.”
“On your next trip up above, remind those whelps this is Records and Translations, not a morgue or pantry to store leftovers.”
“Was it at least an interesting foot this time? I suppose not. If they insist on such pranks, they should at least send something different each time. A well preserved head perhaps. So much can be learned from just a head. You have the brain and most of the sensory tissues reside there. From the teeth alone you can tell-”
“I fear must disappoint you. All I have is a foot, a man's foot and it seemed like a completely unremarkable one during our short meeting.”
“I'm sorry.” she repeated. “Are you well? You look ill, but you aren't. Should I go for the smelling salts just in case or just dispose of it right away? I should have asked about a pail first, but-”
“I'm fine. It was dry as paper. Unfortunately, I seem to grow cold now if I only expect to see blood. I just want it taken to Flesh and Bones, see if they want it for any reason. And see if they have anything that will express my gratitude to the Contributions and Acquisitions.”
“Happily, but that parcel was sent to you directly. Perhaps they just sent it on its way with no knowledge of it contents. They wouldn't have needed your name to get it here and why dry it out.” She took the package and being who she was, peeked in and looked at the foot with interest and sniffed. “Cotton, salts, and Rosemary. Cheap but effective preservers.”
“They would have sent it fresh. It makes a poor insult otherwise.” I agreed, but still seethed. She was right. I had been jumping to conclusions, expecting someone was taking another bite of what bits glory I'd managed to meld together. She tore her eyes away from the old flesh and examined the cloth instead.
“The note was small and the writing wasn't very good, but it said Nitu then Bewafot or Bearfot. Do you know who-, here it is.” She displayed a slip of paper held to the cloth with some sparse drops of wax. As I took the salt filled package, she kept the foot returned to her examination. It was cramped writing, but I read something different despite this.
'Nitu, Beware-fot.' and I reasoned a second 'O' had been left off to spare the 'T'. My anger fled and I read it again. My name hadn't been abbreviated, we cherish our names
and a respectable dragon would only write the name if room didn't permit. But I had never completely hated this nickname, because only she would dare use it. But I couldn't decide why she'd send me a foot. She had never attempted such trick before.
“There's a tattoo on this side.” She said, turning it in her claws and showed me the mark. I studied the symbol for a moment, searching my memory then nodded in approval.
“So that's what she wanted. She's curious what the tattoo means.”
“What who….” her eyes widened and then her mouth closed before she hesitantly continued. “Should I go and fetch her.”
“I'd be grateful, and take this to Flesh and Bones anyway. Tell them its a genuine mark of the Bilmos Cult and I wasn't sure if they had one. If they aren't interested, tell them I could find a use for it if they can save it.”
“Should I come back….at once?” I stared back at her, momentarily puzzled then uncomfortable.
“Yes, and when you do my friend can explain to you that you're courting pitiful dragons if they think sending you someone’s feet is romantic. Even if they're for eating. Even if you find them interesting.”
“But jewels are so tiresome. What does one do with gems?” She sighed, then began her journey to the surface above.
I was surprised and nervous to be blunt. For few things would prod me to leave this vault of treasures and records within the caverns of the The Solitary Spire. Caverns known vaguely yet widely as The Archivists' Hoard or The Spire Archives. A trove of historical wondrous relics that dragons had gathered and overlooked for lifetimes which we displayed to those with the means to appreciate our collection. We hosted celebrated scholars, musicians, and artists, who came looking for lost works they could study or revive. Even nobles in their many forms, cut out their bloated dignities and begged entrance while seeking out their lineage, lore and the histories of their lands. They may not have uncovered what they desired to learn, the unwanted truth, but the quality of our collection has never disappointed.
Beyond this, it was a safe place. One where my affliction was no concern and my lack of brawn was overlooked for my understanding and mystical talents. Despite spending days without any company but shadows. Engulfed in a seldom disturbed silence that would smother a more social creature. I worked with true dedication and as little rest as I could endure, while I sorted, translated, documented, then stored antiquities deep within the mountain. A life I was happy to continue and hoped to eventually become a fully privileged member and a master historian. An Archivist.
However Karma's visit was a disturbance to this routine life which I was content, even pleased to suffer. Admitting to youthful desires I confess I would have been glad just to linger in her presence. She was was a mysterious and curious draka, even to the powers of my unraveling gaze. In anticipation of her visit, I found continuing in my duties had diminished in appeal. So instead I rearranged and cleared away the piles of crates, leather wrapped bundles and stacks of newly delivered tomes, scrolls, or tablets. This needed to be done regardless, but I found Karma's opinion the small space dedicated to my work, more dire than my own, which I was an uncommon sort of discomfort for me.
She emerged with drawn out dramatics, as her slick black hide slipped out of the darkened tunnel and approached in a roundabout way. Creeping along the edge of the chamber with quiet grace. I kept her within the edge of my sight, but remaining just as silent and feigned ignorance of her presence. Even forgetting her as she entered the unseen space to my far left. A moment later I felt her leathery hide brush my scaly one as she stepped up on my right. I could not turn both eyes to see her with pressing my snout against her, so I settled with only the one. While hers saw only the slab of wood before me that served me as a workstation and the parcel there.
“Someone has terrible taste in gifts, they didn't even use yarn. How very tatty.” I didn't respond, I never lasted long in this game once I starting chatting away. Talking of nothing but meaningless things was fine, but if I addressed her directly first, I lost precedence. It wasn't so much about winning or losing, but establishing a position of authority in a group. With only the pair of use, it was more a game than a contest, but one we would play regardless.
“It occurs to me that a draka who has heard she frightened her dear friend, would be like wish to amends, despite any pretense of superiority, for it is her duty to do so.” She talked because her voice was her greatest method of bending me to her will. She tried to force a reply from me and she was succeeding. I could feel my agreement struggling to escape, but I forced it down with some effort. If I submitted too quickly, it would make me look weak. On an instinctive level that we can not fully ignore no matter our desire to. Karma was honest, but she'd be disappointed in me regardless.
So I pressed on, making what eye contact I could. It was the only place I held any advantage, for the stare of a dragon are fueled by pride of intelligence and some of the most cunning minds I knew had complimented mine. Indeed, I saw its effect on Karma as her own eye flickered to mine and away increasingly. When I had suffered under the gaze of my teacher for the first time almost a decade ago. I learned what men fear of gods. She had stared down on me with overwhelming distaste, as if she knew everything of me and every stupid or unworthy thought I'd every conjured. Yet I was desperate to gaze back as if her eyes would reveal all knowledge until I fled from my own shame.
It was keeping my eyes on hers that was the difficulty. They wanted to wander and I wanted to let them. So rarely had a draka stood so close and just as rarely had I seen Karma so young. A statement I'll explain shortly. I had never seen her in any form younger than myself. I was intrigued by these small differences. However I wander from the story, so I will withhold the progress and outcome of this contest and be brief on the rest of the meeting. To be plain, her greeting was affectionate and apologetic and having appeased my affronted ego, she proceeded to the meat of her intention. Not only inviting me to linger, which I would have presently found slightly degrading, but to join her on an expedition. A term we use to civilize the notion of sacking some town or castle with little prejudice.
Unfortunately, as well as delightful, she was also decorated with exotic white stripes that vaguely resembled bones beneath her glossy hide. These marked Karma as death-touched, dragon who foresaw ends yet to come. Giving her the opportunity to harvest the belongings of those soon to pass from this world with no struggle or complaint. And the deaths that attracted her attention were those where the looting was plenty, as well as the corpses. Blood spilling in ways will not dare imagine.
So I made the obvious choice and declined her invitation as always, fabricating some task that needed completing within the deepest reaches of the archives. We were more than acquaintances but not devoted to one another. Affections I was then reassured were not wasted when she interrupted this excuse with a frustrated snort.
Reassuring me that she only required, "a prodigious, vehement, and demoralizing dragon to assist in transporting the soon to be acquired wealth. While supplying interesting conversation during the journey, who is also affordable." She finished by fluttering of her wings so very slightly. A gesture that could be compared to batting her eyelashes I suppose, a gesture you'd likely find as odd as I find the other. It was both mortifying and alluring. I quickly agreed for the opportunity to escape this embarrassment.
Do me the curiosity of believing it was the convincing argument and her use of ambitious words that formed my decision, and not her manipulations. I took it as a challenge to make some contribution and prove her flattery not a complete lie. Though this would likely only amount to some dropped coins or a potted flower of an odd color. But when she asked how soon I'd be ready to leave, I realized the flaw in my decision.
"I can not say." I admitted. "I am awaiting the assessment of my latest discovery. A famous helmet worn by-, well I won't bother with the details. But if I'm right, it should be enough for my promotion." She tried to be encouraging, but she was only second to myself in her kn
owledge of my past submissions and how they had been found, not disappointments but lacking in novelty. She departed soon after sharing what news she'd discovered during her adventures in the outer world. I watched her go with some disappointment, expecting she would not lounge about the caverns for long and that I had seen all I would of her for at least a few days.
I briefly entertained the idea of forgetting the helmet and pursuing her. But I worried I would look desperate and lacked the courage to do so. Not from normal fears of rejection, for I knew she had favor for me as well. Even if I couldn't understand those feelings or what I'd done to merit them and so feared that I may lose that attention just as easily. There was romance between us at times, but that may be a passing thing. I've spoken of what she is and only hinted at what she is capable of, for there is more to those white markings than grim visions and grave robbing. Karma was practically immortal, immune to aging as you understand it. For she aged, but in both directions. The details can wait for now.
So despite being a few years into my second decade, I might have looked like a child to her. How old was she? How many partners had she taken in that time? Did such dragons take partners or were brief visits what she considered an affectionate relationship? Could I even ask that without seeming too bold, needy, or immature? No, I decided again and again. So our attitudes were often nothing more than friendly towards each other in public. We had our own lives that sometimes crossed, and though I wished such meetings happened more often. I needed some sort of authority in name since I had none in body before I'd investigate such questions. Until I held the title of Archivist, no gift would conceal my failings. I hoped my discovery of the helmet would aid me in this. Perhaps then she could say my name without sympathy.
Despite my fears however, she returned the next day without appointment or expectation and asked as she had many times before, if I could spare the time to teach her something. So I narrated my thoughts as I sorted through surviving items of the Nortis Empire, wondering if she was perhaps so old that she had lived through that time of madness. She seemed interested at least, on the occasion I glanced at her as I tried to understand why she bothered with me.
“What sort of dragon can't tell four karat gold from fourteen,” I sneered after tasting the flatware's decorated edge. I took the ceramic plate gently in my jaws and climbed to the higher shelves in the rock wall. “As if the fact that it could be no other than a dish from the Emperor Finkun's table wasn't proof enough. A man like that wouldn't let less than eight karat taint his food.”
“The ledger says it belonged to his son.” she noted.
“And we know that's complete and utter nonsense why?” I asked.
“Because….because the son was selling everything from his silver belt buckles to the gilded trimming on the throne as soon as he rose to power. Using them to fund his conquest of Tilsada. So you believe it is very unlikely he missed disposing of a gold platter.”
“Those are my thoughts exactly.” I replied as I inspected the nook's contents for other flaws. “But you don't sound convinced.”
“I understand your reasoning, but I can't say I accept it as truth merely on that point.”
“But neither can you say it isn't truth or can you? Did you ever dine at his table or pillage his pantry?” She only gave a sort of shrug with her wings. Not a denial to my question, but a refusal to answer. I had to earn answers about her past, that was another game we played. I returned the shrug before continuing. It had been an unlikely hope. “There are many truths. All you can do is accept that which is closest to reality at each moment.”
“Unfortunately your truth is lacking a few details.” A voice said and I craned my head about and looked down to see an old draka with familiar dull blue scales. A younger dragons scales shift colors constantly as their personalities mature and change. But her scales had likely held no other hue since long before she began teaching me years ago. Isionu was more than a teacher, but a Head Archivist who supervised Records and Translations among her other duties.
“For example,” she continued, “your perspective is flawed by your species and so you don't understand what the plate signifies.”
“Men and the like, use them to protect their food and stomachs from dirt.” I replied dismissively.
“And they wear clothes to keep warm where they would normally freeze, but most do not settle with rags or leaves do they?”
“No, but-” I stopped as her meaning fit into place. It had been such a stupid mistake. “They're both symbols of status. He would keep his fancy plates to deceive dinner guests into thinking that he wasn't about to run his empire to financial ruin over his obsession.”
“Correct. So, though we don't have proof that plate belonged to him, we do have reason to believe he would have kept it. Do you accept that truth?”
“Yes.” I said reluctantly.
“Good, now once you've returned that plate and corrected the error in gold quality and its new place, I'd like to talk with you.” I finished quickly and moved to sit beside Karma, eager to hear her news. As one of the eldest archivists, Isionu would have reviewed my submission with the others.
“I meant you in the singular sense.” I bristled and felt my fire stir in my chest. There was no reason for it. No reason unless it was bad news. And there was no reason it should be bad news.
“If-” I swallowed my disappointment and anger, then forced my eyes to meet hers and tried again but calmly. “If you and the other masters have declined my request again, then just say it. I have work to do and I've suffered such failure before and lived.”
“Nitusomin, there is a difference between failing to impress and putting yourself in a position to be embarrassed by choice.” she stated and my legs trembled. I held her gaze stubbornly for another moment, then shuddered and gave in.
“Excuse me.” I said then hesitantly followed as she led me farther into the caverns. My anger settled as we walked but was replaced with a chill and I gathered my wings more snugly against me to no success of warmth. When we were far enough, I sighed out a “thank you.”
“I care about my students. Which unfortunately means I have to tell them unpleasant things instead of simply what they want to hear. And it also means I have to protect you from yourselves.”
“So what do I not want to hear?”
“Your submission was a forgery.” I couldn't find the words to speak. It wasn't that I couldn't believe I was in error, though I didn't. I had been so certain because there would have been little reason to reproduce it. The owner of the helmet had been a symbol of idiocy to men everywhere by the time he performed his one act of kindness and died. No profit would have been found in such a forgery.
“The Battle Crown wasn't made for the High Lord, it was made to destroy him. Two fakes were made for enemy knights so they could impersonate the tyrant in battle and shock his forces who already thought him beyond madness. It quickly became ineffective but those knights terrified his troops for a time. I'll assume you trust our methods enough to believe our claim. If you had used your own talents, you would have known it as well.”
“But then it is still a treasure, because of its brief and important history.” I said this in a desperate hope and with some truth. I had never heard of these helmets, so the helmet would be a fresh composition to a very old book.
“Oh yes-” she agreed, “and we'd be glad to have it, but it is a fake.”
“I don't understand.”
“I know, this is where it gets complicated. If you brought us a priceless sword, but claimed it was an ax, a boot, or a painting we could not promote you to Archivist.” I cringed at the word, priceless. It most certainly did have a price and not one the Archives would match. “It is a title given to knowledgeable and the wise. Not to someone just because they found something shiny. You have the opposite problem. I can bring you practically anything and you could probably give more accurate information about it than most of others here. Some already Archivists themselves.” she said,
muttering that last bit.
“At least, when you're actually thinking and not just spouting clever words for attention. Its been stumbling upon the pretty thing that you haven't had the luck of doing until now. In this case, you gave us a dagger and we called it a knife. It can be used as both that doesn't stop it from being a knife.”
“That is too great a difference.” I said, but she must have mistook my frustration for a question, for she asked.
“Is it? We don't know. That's why I'm here and why I wanted to talk to you. Convince me its an error to overlook and we'll consider it worthy of your promotion.”
“I'd sound like a fool if I did.” I replied.
“Because you made a mistake?” she asked with a restrained hint of mockery.
“I'd sound like a fool because we're historians. We portray and translate the past to others. Through what we discover and record is how the dead and forgotten will be remembered. I could turn Frederick the Holy into a monster if motivated. Turn his miracles into massacres, his virtues to vices. With a careless claw and ink I could make the causalities at Malto Gate from two hundred to two thousand. Make an overwhelming victory a disastrous defense instead. When you hold power like that, when isn't any error too great?”
“True, but an Archivist must understand that history is never perfect. That errors will be made and that our records come from flawed individuals who were in favor of one person or another when they wrote it. Even when they tried to display only the facts, they likely filtered the facts against or for another. That is why we need Archivists. As you said, there is no truth to an Archivist, just what the current evidence tells us, and that is why we'd like you to be one.”
I wasn't shocked, well perhaps I was, but I'd had suspected something. We're too fond of and familiar with trickery not to see it coming over the hill. For a moment I couldn't speak, and then came forth a stream of words that so perfectly expressed of how I felt. Unfortunately it was also so ill-mannered that I feel no need to repeat them on a page where they can be read again and again. (If incurably curious, I quoted Baron Vilcost as he raged without restraint in the satirical, When Cows Cry.) I then proceeded like so:
“I will not become the youngest Archivist in history because my casualty rate was acceptable. I take enough pity from those I envy, I won't take it from those I respect! Give me a few months, a few weeks even, and I'll find you an artifact that I can present such an accounting of, that the gods will take notes. As for my priceless helmet. I'll take metal not credit if the archives want it.”
I turned and trotted away, pleased, bitter, and full of vigor. It wasn't until I reached where I started and saw Karma's expression that I realized that I had all but roared most of my refusal which had surely echoed so far as this, and farther still I would learn. Still burning with exhilaration, I couldn't find the humility to be embarrassed when she too failed to speak. So I did instead.
“I'll regret tomorrow, I always do. But now that matter is resolved and I'm at your disposal to lug luggage and whatever else you had planned. We can discuss it over dinner, after you apologize for calling me cheap. I could suggest sums of silver that would make your tail twitch and that would only be a small portion of what I spent acquiring that useless helmet."
"I am so very impressed."
" I'm already seen as a coward, but being a cheap coward is far too insulting for any dragon, even one with my tattered reputation. So I waste disgusting amounts of wealth to insure no such rumors form." I said and her amusement almost made it seem funny. Not quite, but almost.
"The word I used was affordable. Which is completely true because you are more interested in secrets than gold and I have plenty of those. So you are by definition, affordable. As for eating, dinner is too distant to make good time, but how about breakfast instead." I stared, then glanced about the dimly lit caverns, looking for some clue before giving up.
"What day is it exactly?"