Dragon's Heart (3 page)

Jakkin licked his lips, just thinking about a cup of takk, the taste a sudden vivid recollection in his mouth. After a year of drinking boil—that thin soup made from greasy skagg grass—he was more than ready for takk. A whole pot of it. Two whole pots of it! And then he remembered what it was made of—dragon's blood. "
It's back to boil
"he sent Akki, at the same time including a picture of him bathing in a pot of the gray-green stuff. Akki broke into sudden, nervous laughter.

Hearing Akki's laugh, Kkarina gasped, her face an alarming crimson. She turned and finally registered who Golden's passengers were. Without warning, she burst into tears and threw her apron up over her head.

"Kkarina," Akki said with a sweetness Jakkin hadn't heard from her in a while, "Kay—it's me." That set the old woman to crying even harder.

Still sobbing, the cook lowered her apron, waddled up to them, and gathered up Akki and Jakkin in her massive arms, which threatened to break bones and bring bruises. Kkarina smelled of fresh bread and sharp takk, and something burnt.

She smells of home.
His knees suddenly buckled.
Home.

"Oh, oh, oh..." Kkarina said over and over. "Oh, oh, oh," without letting go of either of them.

At last Akki cried out, "Kkarina, you're crushing me—
and
the dragonling." It was true. The old cook had enfolded all three of them in her hard embrace.

Jakkin was incapable of speech.

"Oh, oh, oh," Kkarina said one more time, then let them go.

Again, out of the corner of his eye, Jakkin saw movement, this time on his right. He stepped in front of Akki, to shield her, before realizing it was only old Balakk, the plowman, coming in from the fields. Next to him was Trikko and someone else, a moonfaced boy with stringy blond hair whom Jakkin didn't recognize.

Balakk had spotted the copter, then Jakkin and Akki, and began complaining even before he was close. They had to strain to hear him. "All those days of mourning," he started. "And me hardly able to work, thinking about you two dead out there in the mountains in the cold. Little Jakkin, little Akki." Though of course neither of them had been little—then or now. Indeed, they hadn't been little for quite some time. And of course neither of them had been dead, though how was poor Balakk to have known?

Jakkin stared at Balakk's moonfaced companion, wondering who he was, how he'd gotten to the nursery. Of course, a year was a long time to be away. People could die, move to the city, be sent offworld. People could grow old, forgetful, take on new apprentices. People could change.

"We apologize for being both alive and well," Akki said, but with a smile to take away the sting of it.

The dragonling resettled itself, curling up so tightly in Akki's arms, it was almost a dragon ball. At this point, it seemed to regard Akki as its mother.

That would be funny,
Jakkin thought,
if it weren't so ... so inconvenient.
The hatchling had imprinted on Akki early and refused to be parted from her.

Trikko winked at Jakkin as if to say the year away had simply been a ploy to be alone with Akki, but then Trikko's mind always worked that way, from the slightly off-color to the positively filthy.
He couldn't,
Jakkin thought,
understand real love.

But looking confused, Balakk turned to Golden, spread his hands, palms to the sky. His new helper touched his arm, as if in comfort. At the same time, a roar from the stud barn made them all turn around. A male dragon, sensing roiling emotion nearby, was simply trying to bring the attention to himself. It was an old dragon trick, and as usual, it worked.

"Typical male," Akki said with an exaggerated eye roll, which broke the tension, and they all laughed—even Jakkin.

Only Auricle still seemed perturbed; her sending to Jakkin was laced with red spots that looked a great deal like blood.

"
Danger?
"

"
No danger
," he answered soothingly.

"How?" asked Kkarina, meaning how were they still alive?

"When ... where?" Balakk added, waving a hand.

Trikko's knowing smile spread slowly across his face.

The answers to any of those questions had to be given carefully. Guardedly. Because there
was
danger, great danger, even if he'd just assured Auricle there was none. He and Akki had to be certain that they said the same things, that their versions of the past year's adventures matched exactly. If not, the future of all the dragons on Austar IV could be a bloody one indeed.

"
If the secret gets out—our secret...
" he thought, adding, "
Akki, take care
."

"
I'm not stupid,
" she shot back, the red lightning bolt accompanying it lancing through his mind with such force, he almost winced. "
But there's no way it can get out unless you tell. Me—I'm silent as the grave
." Facing him directly, so that no one else could see, she lifted her hand to her mouth, then surreptitiously drew her finger across her throat. "
See—dead, grave, got it?
" Afterward, she smiled broadly at Kkarina, at Balakk and his helper, at Golden, even at Trikko. "First, showers, food, rest. Then we'll tell you all."

"
All?
" The picture Jakkin sent was a frantic, dark red, roiling cloud.

"
We'll only tell them what we want to, silly
," she soothed, her sending shot through with a golden light. "
But we'll
tell
them that it's all
."

And he
was
soothed. They would find their way through this difficult place together. Keeping secret how they'd sheltered in Heart's Blood's birth cavity as she lay dying. Keeping secret that they'd emerged with dragon ears and eyes, and a dragon's brave heart as well. Keeping secret their astonishing ability to speak mind-to-mind. They'd keep all the secrets safe, and that way keep all the dragons safe, too.
Because if the people of Austar find all this out, they won't stop to think that it's only hens who'd recently given birth who can give them the dragon gifts. Most Austarians don't know a female dragon from a male. They'd probably slaughter
all
the dragons just in case.
Jakkin shivered. He couldn't let that happen.

"What's this? What's this babble?" An old man pushed through the knot of nursery folk. His sharp, ravaged face fell when he saw Jakkin, his one good eye staring, though whether it was shock or disappointment, Jakkin couldn't tell because the man's eyes immediately seemed to shutter, like a dragon's.

"Hallo," Golden said, "look what I've found!" His voice bright, as if he were enjoying a vast joke.

"It's little Akki, little Jakkin," Balakk explained.

"Of course it's them," the old man retorted. "Any piece of worm spit can see that."

At that, any good memories of Likkarn helping them escape a year ago into the mountains left Jakkin, and he felt a returning rush of dislike for the man.

Kkarina collapsed in sobs again.

"Well, here's a welcome home," Likkarn said, "though you'll find us all changed. You can tell us why you're alive later. We've still got a day's work to finish."

It was more a slap in the face than a welcome home, and Jakkin almost said something, but Akki sent him a picture of his head going under a cold tap. "
Just stay cool
."

She's right, of course.
No need to fight with old Lik-and-Spittle now. After all, he
did
owe the old man something for helping them escape from the wardens. So, instead, he said, in what he hoped was a cozening voice, "We found a new dragon, Likkarn. Maybe related to our dragons. Her color is interesting, at any rate. Could she have been sired by one of our escaped males?"

Likkarn said nothing.

"We thought we could—" Jakkin stopped, thinking that he'd be damned if he would beg.

"We?" Likkarn was not going to help one bit.

"Akki and me. You remember Akki, Master Sarkkhan's only child?" Jakkin was losing his temper again, and even a sending from Akki showering him with a waterfall of cold water didn't slow him down. "She probably owns the nursery now that her father's dead."

Balakk said, "No, no, no."

And Kkarina added, "We
all
own it."

Likkarn smiled slowly. "I was the only one mentioned in Sarkkhan's will, boy. He knew Akki didn't want the place, and I was the only one to run it. And I now own half. The rest I've given to the nursery folk. Time served. You know."

But he
didn't
know, and Jakkin's face showed it. He touched the dimple on his cheek, a sure sign that he was upset.
If I'd been a young dragon in the pit, I'd have been down on my knees in front of the older, slyer dragon by now, the two ritual slashes across my throat.

"So, will you let us board her here?" It was Akki, the little dragon carried in the crook of her arm. "And this little one as well?"

Likkarn laughed, and though it didn't have a particularly happy sound, it was clear he'd given in. "You've always been able to get around me, young lady. Welcome home."

Noticing no welcome home for him, Jakkin thought about getting another mental dunking from Akki if he said anything. He didn't want that so he let his anger go.

"Akki can shower first," Jakkin told Likkarn, Kkarina, Balakk, the boy. He ignored Trikko. "I need to get Auricle settled in." It was only then that the others even seemed to notice the pale dragon crouched by the side of the wall.

"Back stall. Keep her away from the rest of the nursery dragons for now," Likkarn said.

As if I didn't know that.

"Take the hatchling, too." Akki handed the ball of dragon over to him. The minute he touched it, the hatchling uncurled in his hand, its tail now anchored firmly around his wrist, and looked longingly back at Akki.

"
Or,
" Jakkin thought, "
as longingly as a dragon can look.
"

Akki sent a bright orange warning. "
No more sendings, not when we're close enough to speak. We might make people suspicious
." The color was flame-shaped. "
You look different when you're sending to me. Your eyes get all squinty and you stare at me with great concentration. I bet I do the same
."

Jakkin nodded. He tried not to stare, hoping that it looked as if he were simply agreeing to take the hatchling, which he was. But he was also nodding to Akki about the sendings. Not that Golden, Kkarina, Likkarn, and the rest of them could know that. After all, they couldn't hear the sendings or see the colors. "Yes," Jakkin said aloud. "
No more sendings
," he added in a sending, looking away so he didn't stare at Akki. "
Not this close.
"

Golden took Jakkin and Akki by the arms and pulled them aside, giving them a hug. "Better to say too little than too much until I've figured out the ramifications of your rescue."

"Ramifications?" Jakkin asked.

"To us or to you?" Akki added.

"To Austar, of course," Golden said. Then he stepped back from them and waved his hands vaguely, as if he were campaigning for something.

Kkarina turned to Golden. "You'll be staying to dinner, of course?" She twinkled at him.

He smiled regretfully. "You're my favorite cook, Kay, but I've too much work back in the city. There's a senate race going on in The Rokk. I've got competition this time." He turned and ran back up the steps to the copter.

"Flatterer," Kkarina called back, and then Golden was gone, through the copter door, and moments later, the rotors started up. Kkarina turned to Akki and enveloped her again, as if determined to shelter Akki from the sand and grit the copter was throwing around, as if she could shelter her from the world.

Over Akki's head, Kkarina said to Jakkin, "Tell us what you want. What you need. You must be exhausted. A year! A year! And now you're home, where you belong. Who would believe it?" She began to sniffle loudly, as she led Akki away into the bondhouse.

The door snicked shut behind them.

AKKI FOLLOWED the chattering Kkarina as if she didn't know the way. Kkarina was a gossip, though there was nothing mean about her. She just liked to talk. And talk. And talk. Akki was too tired to talk back, tired from the last weeks in the trog caves, from their escape through the cold underground river, the copter ride. And from the arrival home. After a year with just Jakkin—and a few weeks with the brutal, silent trogs—so much talking overwhelmed her.

"Let me get you something to eat," Kkarina said, turning to Akki. "You must be starving. What can there be out there in the wild? Leaves? Mushrooms?"

Akki
had
to answer. "Yes, and berries, boil, teas, flikka soups."

Kkarina looked positively ill. "
Flikka
soup? No, really—it's a wonder you didn't starve." She always thought people were starving.

"Shower first, Kkarina," Akki said, almost pleading. "Then we can have food talk after."

"I can bring something into the shower room for you." Kkarina's little eyes were like berries in a huge white pudding. "A good cup of hot takk at least? It's always been your favorite."

Akki couldn't help herself; she shuddered, and her stomach turned over. "No thanks, I need that shower right now. I can't begin to explain how dirty I am. After that, bread and cheese. And a small glass of chikkar."

"You remember where the shower room is?"

Akki put her hands on Kkarina's. "I've only been gone a year, Kay. Unless you've moved the shower."

Kkarina laughed. "Not since this morning."

"I'll need a towel, and soap."

"Soap in the shower dish. I'll find you towels. You'll need one for your hair, too. Your poor hair. It used to be so lovely. How well I remember brushing it when you were a child, and braiding it, and..." She wandered off, still adrift in reminiscences.

Akki walked down the hall to the shower room, thinking,
That went all right. At least she didn't ask any
real
questions. Like why I shuddered at the mention of takk. And how did we last through the cold.