At her cries, both the captain and Alise turned and hurried toward her. She was out of breath by the time they reached each
other, and to Leftrin’s worried, “What’s wrong, girl?” she could only reply, “Rasp snake. On Sintara. Biggest I’ve ever seen. Going into her chest, under her wing.”
“Those damned things!” he exclaimed, and Thymara could only feel gratitude that she didn’t have to explain it.
She caught a gasping breath. “My father used liquor to make them back out.”
“Yes, well, tereben oil works better. Trust me on that. Had to get one out of my own leg once. Come on, girl. I’ve got some on board. Alise! If one dragon has a rasp snake, chances are the others do, too. Tell the keepers to check their animals. And that brown one, the one that’s down? Check her, too. Look on her underbelly. They’ll go for a soft place for an easy bite and then dig in.”
Alise felt a surge of purpose as Leftrin turned away from her and headed back toward the barge. She hastened down the beach, going from keeper to keeper, giving the warning. Greft almost immediately found one dangling from Kalo’s belly, concealed by one of his hind legs. There were three fastened to Sestican;she’d thought for a moment that his keeper, Lecter, was going to faint when he discovered three short ends of snakes poking out from his dragon’s nether regions. She spoke to him sharply to jolt him from his panic, directing him to take his dragon over to where Sintara was and to wait for Leftrin there. The boy seemed shocked that she could speak so severely. He gave a gulp, recovered himself, and obeyed her.
She swallowed her own shock at that and hurried on. When she came to Sylve and the golden dragon guarding the dirty brown one, she had to pause and rebuild her courage for a moment. She did not want to confront him;she wanted nothing more than to turn and hasten away. It took her a moment to convince herself that what she felt was not her own cowardice, but the dragon’s efforts to repulse her. She squared her shoulders and marched up to him and his keeper.
“I’m here to check the brown dragon for parasites. Some of the other dragons have been attacked by rasp snakes. Your keeper should check you over while I look at the brown dragon.”
For a time the gold just stared at her. How could solid black eyes glitter so bleakly?
“Rasp snakes?”
“A parasitic burrowing creature. Thymara says she knows of them from the canopy. But these, she thinks, come from the river. They are much larger. It’s a snake that bites and eats its way in, to live off your flesh.”
“Disgusting!” Mercor declared. The gold immediately stood and spread his wings. “It makes me itch to think of it. Sylve, check me for those creatures immediately.”
“I groomed you completely today, Mercor. I do not think I would have missed such a thing. But I will check you.”
“And I must look at the brown dragon to see if she has any,” Alise asserted firmly.
She had expected Mercor to oppose her. Instead, he seemed completely distracted by the thought that he himself might have such a parasite.
Alise ventured toward the impassive copper dragon. She was crumpled on the ground in a way that was going to make inspecting her underbelly difficult if not impossible. And Sylve was right. The coating of mud on the dragon was so even that it almost looked deliberate. It was going to have to come off before she could tell much of anything about the creature.
She glanced helplessly toward Sylve, but the small girl had her hands full with Mercor. An instant later, her first impulse shamed her. What had she thought to do? Summon the Rain Wild child to have her clean the dragon so that Alise could inspect her without getting her hands dirty? How arrogant a thought was that? For years, she had been claiming she was an expert on dragons, yet at her first opportunity to tend to one, she quailed at a bit of mud? No. Not Alise Kincarron.
Not far from where the copper dragon sprawled, part of a bank of coarse reeds remained untrampled, their tasseled heads standing half as tall as Alise. She drew her little belt knife, cut half a dozen of them, folded them into a coarse cushion of reeds, and, returning to the dragon, began to give her a good scrubbing with it, starting at the creature’s upper shoulder.
The dried mud was river silt and it came away surprisingly easily. Alise’s coarse brush bared coppery scales that quickly took on a lovely sheen as she worked on the poor creature. Relpda did not make a sound, yet Alise thought she sensed a dim gratitude from the prostrate dragon. She redoubled her efforts, moving her scrubbing rushes down the dragon’s spine. As she worked, the size of a dragon was forcibly impressed on, not just her mind, but her muscles. The area of skin to be cleaned suddenly reminded her of the routine work of the crew scrubbing the barge’s deck. And this was a small dragon. She glanced over her shoulder at the gleaming gold of Mercor’s scaled hide and mentally compared it to the small pink-scalped girl who tended him. How much of each evening did the girl devote to her task?
As if Sylve had sensed her gaze, she turned to Alise. “He’s clean, every inch of him. No snakes on him. I’ll help you with Relpda now.”
Her pride made Alise want to say she had her task well in hand. Instead she heard herself say “Thank you” with utter gratitude. The girl smiled at her, and for an instant her lips caught a glint of light from the sun. Was her mouth scaled, too? Alise jerked her stare away and renewed her scrubbing efforts, sending a cascade of fine silt from Relpda’s hip to the damp earth below her. Sylve had not seemed so scaly when she’d first seen the girl. Was she changing as much as the dragons were?
Sylve came to join her, carrying a coarse reed “brush” of her own. “This is a really good idea. I’ve been using evergreen boughs when I can get them, and handfuls of leaves when I can’t. But this works much better.”
“If I’d had the time to weave the stems and leaves together, I think it would work even better. But this will get the job done, I think.” Alise had a hard time speaking and scrubbing at the same time. Her years in Hest’s house had softened her. As a girl, she’d always helped with the household cleaning;her family had not been able to afford many servants. Now she could feel sweat damping her back and blisters starting to form on her hands. Her shoulder already ached. Well, so be it! A little hard work
never hurt anyone. And when she looked back over the area of dragon that she had cleaned, she felt a rush of pride.
“What’s this? What’s this? Is this a snake hole?” The fear and distress in Sylve’s voice seemed to infect her dragon. Mercor came lumbering over and swung his large head down to snort at a spot on the copper dragon’s neck.
“What does it look like?” Alise asked, leery of coming closer while the golden was so intent.
“A raw spot. The dirt around it was damp, maybe with blood. She’s not bleeding now, but…”
“Something jabbed her there,” Mercor opined. “But it’s not a ‘snake hole’ my dear. Still, the blood smell is strong, so she bled quite a bit.”
Alise found her wits. “I don’t think the snakes make a hole and crawl inside. I think they only stick their heads in and drink blood.”
Mercor stood absolutely still, his head still hanging over the copper dragon. His eyes were black on shining black;still Alise had a sense of that color slowly swirling in them. He seemed to go away from them for a time. Then he shuddered his coat, rippling his scales in a way that reminded her more of a cat than a reptile. An instant later, she felt again the presence of his mind, and marveled. If he had not briefly left them, she would never have recognized how strongly he affected her when he was focused on them.
“I do not know about snakes called rasp snakes. These things you describe, I have heard of, long ago, and then they were called burrowers. They dug in deep. They may be more dangerous than the rasp snakes the other keeper spoke about.”
“Sa have mercy,” Sylve said quietly. She stood silently a moment, her rush scrubber still in her hands. Then she abruptly walked around the dragon and pushed her. “Relpda!” she shouted, as if to penetrate the dragon’s stupor. “Roll over. I want to see your belly. Roll over!”
To Alise’s astonishment, the sickly dragon stirred. She moved her hind legs feebly against the mud she sprawled in. She lifted a
wobbly head, unlidded her eyes, and then let her head drop back to the earth. “Move away,” Mercor directed them roughly, and both women obeyed him promptly, jumping back to be clear of the prone dragon. Mercor lowered his head, thrust his muzzle under Relpda, and tried to turn her over. She rumbled a feeble protest and scrabbled her legs as if the motion pained her.
“Is he eating her? I don’t think she’s dead!” The protest came from another dragon keeper who had suddenly joined him.
Rapskal,
Alise thought. Was that his name? He was a handsome lad, despite his Rain Wild strangeness. His thick dark hair and black clawed hands contrasted oddly with his pale blue eyes and angelic smile. His dragon was with him, a dumpy red creature with stumpy legs and a brilliant sheen to her scales. When Rapskal stopped to stare, the small dragon leaned her head affectionately against her young keeper, nearly knocking him over. “Stop it, Heeby. You’re bigger and stronger than you know! Stand up on your own feet.” There was more affection than rebuke in his voice. He gave his dragon a shove, and she playfully nudged him back.
“Mercor’s not trying to eat her,” Sylve explained indignantly. “He’s trying to turn her over so we can check her belly for parasites. There’s a snake kind of creature—”
“I know. I was just over watching them get them out of Sestican. Just about made me puke to see them back out, and Lecter was almost crying and blaming himself. I’ve never seen him so broken up before.”
“But they got them out?”
“Yes, indeed they did. Must have hurt, though. That big blue dragon was squeaking like a mouse as they came out. I don’t know what Captain Leftrin had mixed up, but they put it around the hole where the snake went in and pretty soon it started thrashing its tail, and then it started backing out. Lots of blood and goop come with it, and hoo, what a stink! And then when it finally dropped to the ground, Tats jumped on it and chopped it up with an ax. Made me glad I check my Heeby from top to toe every day. Right, Heeby?”
The red dragon gave a snort in response and shoved Rapskal
again, sending the boy staggering. His account had made Alise feel a bit queasy, but Sylve had other things on her mind. “Rapskal, can you get Heeby to help Mercor? We’re trying to turn the copper dragon onto her back.”
“Well, sure I can. All I got to do is ask her. Hey, Heeby! Heeby, look here, look at me. Heeby, listen. Listen, girl. Help Mercor turn the copper dragon onto her back. Understand? Help him turn her over? Can you do it? Can my big strong dragon do that for me? Sure she can. Come on, Heeby. Put your nose under here, right here, just like Mercor. That’s my girl. Now lift and push, Heeby, lift and push!”
The little red dragon dug her feet in. As Alise watched, the muscles in her short thick neck bulged. She made a rumbling noise of great effort, and suddenly Relpda began to move. She gave a squeal of pain, but both Mercor and Heeby ignored it. Pushing and grunting, they turned her onto her back. Her legs waved feebly in the air. “Hold her there, Heeby. That’s my girl. Hold her there!” And in response to Rapskal’s cries, the small red dragon braced herself and stood with her head butted up against the copper. Her neck muscles bulged, but her golden eyes spun in pleasure to her keeper’s loud praises.
“Look there!” Mercor said, and Alise stared in horror. The copper dragon’s muddy belly was studded with snake tails. There were at least a dozen, the exposed stubs twitching and writhing because their victim had been moved. Sylve covered her mouth with both her hands and stepped back. She rocked her head from side to side and spoke breathlessly through her fingers.
“She never let me groom her belly. I tried. I did try! She always pulled away from me and rubbed it in the mud. She was trying to get rid of them, wasn’t she, Mercor? She wouldn’t let me groom her belly because it hurt.”
“Her mind was not clear enough for her to know that you could help her,” Mercor said heavily. “No one blames you, Sylve. You did what you could for her.”
“Is she dead?” The call reached them, and all heads turned. Thymara and Tats were coming at a trot. Captain Leftrin was close behind them. Sintara was following at a more dignified
pace. Behind them, half a dozen other keepers and dragons were converging.
“No! But she’s infested with them. I don’t know if we can save her.” Sylve’s voice broke on the words.
“Try,” Mercor commanded her sternly, but then he leaned over the girl and gently blew his breath down on her. At most, it could have been a gentle breeze, but Sylve swayed in it. To Alise, the sudden change in the girl’s countenance was stunning. And frightening. Sylve went from a near-hysterical child to a calm woman. She drew herself up taller, glanced up at her dragon, and smiled at him.
“We will.” She looked over at Alise and said, “First, we will use our reed brushes to clean away as much of the mud as we can. Heeby, you will have to hold her in this position, on her back. She will not like what we do, but I think we must clear the mud from her injuries before we can treat them.”
“That makes sense to me,” Alise concurred, and wondered where the poise had come from. Was she seeing Sylve as she was when her own doubts didn’t taunt her, or was this, somehow, an overlay of the dragon Mercor? Alise took up her reed scrubber and turned it to a fresh spot. She approached the dragon cautiously. The copper might be small and weak for a dragon, but a kick from any of her gently waving legs would send a human flying. And if she struggled and rolled over onto a keeper, serious injuries would result.
T
HYMARA HALTED AND
stared at Alise. For a moment, the Bingtown woman looked like a different person. She was scrubbing away at the belly of the copper dragon, heedless of dust and mud that cascaded onto her trousers and boots. Dust coated her face, and her blouse was filthy to the elbows. Even her pale eyelashes were laden with dust. Yet her expression was one of determination, and almost pleasure in her task. When had she changed from being an elegant Bingtown lady, impeccably dressed and with manners to match? A grudging admiration stirred in Thymara.