52. Helena
Helena
The nights—and days—had gotten much easier.
Helena could take naps now, actual naps, by herself, without Lovey.
With the cub-chick’s constantly growing trust in Bertram, Helena was able to foist Lovey onto him and spend time alone. It was a phenomenon so exquisite that she nearly fainted with happiness every time she got to take an uninterrupted shower.
It was also nice that Bertram was getting to spend time hands-on with an owl-bear. After all, it was an experience no humanoid being had previously shared. Helena would have felt guilty if she were the only one who got to experience the magic—and occasional despair—of raising Lovey.
Lovey kept growing, in size and in behavioral repertoire.
She had gone from looking like a flesh-colored toad in her nakedness at hatching to looking like a porcupine with her nascent feathers.
Now she truly looked like an owl-bear, albeit a tiny, fuzzy one.
But she finally had feathery legs, face, and wings, while the rest of her body was covered in ever-thickening fur of white, brown, and strands of metallic gold throughout.
With this more owl-bear-like visage came more owl-bear-like behaviors.
Lovey was past needing the MagiZoopreme blended in a slurry.
She preferred her meat substitutes in long strips, particularly when thrown by Bertram.
She would take tiny hops into the air and snap her beak, attempting to devour her prey.
Most of the time she succeeded, but sometimes she was so excited that she miscalculated and ended up with a strip of substitute meat draped across her face.
It was both adorable and a little pathetic, and it delighted Helena every time.
She also blamed Bertram’s aim every time.
Inaccurate? Probably. But he knew how to push her buttons, so she was going to push his right back.
Bertram could throw great distances, and Lovey could run increasingly fast. She scrambled across the dirt and rock face, her talons clicking percussively on the slate.
It was clear that Dr. J wasn’t returning from the Arctic anytime soon, so they took down her tent, which gave Lovey even more space to cause chaos.
Her predator instincts were sharpening.
This now included playfighting. Lovey enjoyed pouncing and pinning and wrestling.
She would often attack stray leaves blowing past, or wayward twigs, or her favorite target: Helena.
Helena quickly learned that rough-housing with an owl-bear, even one the size of a small dog, was not something that the (mostly) human body could comfortably withstand.
When Lovey attacked her or played too rough, Helena stood and removed herself for about ten seconds, just as Hippolyta had recommended and The Training of the Shroo had elaborated on. This least reinforcing scenario strategy seemed to be effective.
Still, Helena didn’t want to squash Lovey’s fighting instincts entirely.
It was an important part of her development.
An actual owl-bear mother would be able to not only participate in but actively encourage such play behaviors.
It made Helena feel guilty that she couldn’t withstand Lovey’s benign attacks the way a real owl-bear mama could, and she found herself at a loss.
Then Bertram reminded her that this exact problem was surely faced by magizoologists raising dragon hatchlings, and it was another email off to Hippolyta, and another response full of great advice.
Bertram was going to build a dummy for Lovey to tackle full force, and Helena and Bertram were getting very special accessories from the Midsummer Knights’ top draconologists.
“Tell me these aren’t real dragon scales,” Diana said when she delivered the two pairs of gloves.
Her voice was low and conspiratorial, as if there might be cops hiding in the bushes.
“I’m not opposed to bringing People illegal things, allegedly; I would just want to know in advance.
Allegedly. So that I could make appropriate preparations. Allegedly.”
“It’s not illegal,” Helena assured her, “but they are real scales.”
Helena laid the stunning gloves on the table, admiring their green-blue shine. She picked up the right glove first and slid it onto her hand. The double cotton lining made them remarkably soft against her skin, even as the iron-hard scales on the outside offered protection.
“Are you familiar with the Magellanic water-dragon?” Helena asked.
“Can’t say I am,” Diana said.
“Well!” Helena clasped her gloved hands together with glee. “The Draconis magellanicus—”
“Stop inflicting scientific names on People,” Bertram said without looking up from the leg of the dummy he was sanding. “Nobody cares.”
“I care,” Diana insisted. “Go on, Helena. Ignore the mean, grumpy man.”
Bertram sighed as he picked up the next piece of wood to saw. “The mean, grumpy man is trying to protect Diana from a three-hour lecture on Draconis magellanicus and the unique ecological roles inhabited by semi-aquatic dragons.”
“I wasn’t even going to mention that,” Helena lied, and she knew Bertram knew she was lying.
“Anyway. Diana. Despite the name, the Magellanic water-dragon actually isn’t a water-dragon—well, it does share certain characteristics with water-dragons but isn’t considered a true water-dragon because—Bertram, don’t look at me like that! ”
Bertram shook his head, but Helena saw he was smiling.
“True water-dragons are solely aquatic,” Helena continued, “whereas the Magellanic water-dragon is actually amphibious and may spend as much as thirty-five to forty-five percent of their cumulative waking lives on land. It’s similar to how owl-bears aren’t part of the ‘true’ leopardopterans or fur seals aren’t part of the ‘true seal’ family—”
“Helena,” Bertram cautioned.
“All of this is relevant!” Helena protested. “It’s actually extra relevant because seals also go through catastrophic molt! So, there you have it!”
“There I have . . . what?” Diana asked.
Bertram leaned his forehead against the structure, shaking his head in despair. “Now this would be a good time to explain further.”
“Catastrophic molt is when an animal sheds all their fur or feathers during a relatively short period of time and regrows an entirely new coat in a week or two, as opposed to animals who shed and replace fur or feathers slowly year-round. The Magellanic water-dragon goes through something known as an ultra-catastrophic molt, where they drop all their scales at once. So, these gloves are made of Magellanic water-dragon scales, naturally shed and collected with no harm to the animals.”
“Oh! That’s actually sick as hell!” Diana said.
“Right?” Helena beamed. “Because animal facts are extremely interesting, even to non-scientists.”
“They totally are,” Diana agreed. “Tell me more!”
“About which ones?” Helena asked, eyes gleaming.
“Any!” said Diana, despite Bertram’s frantic gesturing for her to stop. “All of them!”
It was hours before Diana left and Helena finally stopped her impromptu lectures on subjects ranging from the majesty of the leopardopteran question markhor to the absolute horrors of pre-Merge industrialized farming perpetuated by humans.
Diana was attentive to each and every one, chiming in every so often with a quip or continuation.
“I think Diana has a crush on you,” Bertram said, once Diana was gone.
Helena laughed. “What? No! Me? No!”
“Nobody would let you rant for that long if they weren’t at least a little in love with you,” Bertram said.
“You’ve always let me rant,” Helena said.
Bertram didn’t say anything, and a somewhat painful silence stretched between the two.
“Well, whatever,” Helena said. “I’m pretty sure you’re the one she’s into. You were going to go out with her, right?”
“I still plan to,” said Bertram. “But . . . I—I don’t want to leave camp with Lovey at this crucial stage of development. We’ve really been establishing trust.”
A small part of Helena thought that surely a few hours at a bar couldn’t possibly destroy the relationship Bertram was building with Lovey. A much larger part of her warned that if she told Bertram that, the larger part would beat the shit out of the smaller part.
Bertram hammered a nail into the joint of the dummy. “But sure, yeah, at some point I’ll go out with Diana.”
“You should go out with Diana. You definitely should.”
Bertram’s lips twisted into an odd smirk. “Since when are you so invested?”
“Well, it’s just. You know.” Helena searched for a casual, laidback response. “We’ve been isolated on this mountain for months. I’m sure you have, you know, needs and whatever to fulfill.”
“And you?” Bertram raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have ‘needs and whatever’?”
“I may already be seeing someone,” Helena said, primly. “You don’t know.”
Bertram snorted. “I think I would have noticed you hiking back into civilization, and I definitely would’ve heard Lovey’s reaction if someone snuck into camp.”
“Not if he were really, really sneaky,” Helena countered.
“And is he?” Bertram asked.
“Yes. Yes, he is,” Helena said. “You shouldn’t look so skeptical—he’s a great guy. A fellow member of the gentry, actually. He’s, uh, a baron.”
“A baron? Really?” Bertram smiled. “Where? I wonder if his barony is under my mother’s purview.”
Helena scrunched up her face. “I thought baron outranked count.”
“Nope.”
“Oh.” Helena paused. “So, which one is above count?”
“Marquess.”
“Marquess!” Helena snapped her fingers, as if coming to a sudden realization.
“Yes, that’s right, I forgot. He’s a marquess, so, he outranks you.
I forgot because his title isn’t really important to him—he’s also a doctor, which is his main focus.
But he’s not in it for the money; he’s already incredibly wealthy and actually owns a private island he uses as a sanctuary for rare and endangered birds. ”
“Oh, wow.” Bertram shook his head in mock-awe. “Well, you know how much I love a rare and endangered bird. I’d love to meet him. In fact, I’m hurt you haven’t introduced us already.”
“He’s extremely shy,” Helena said. “And he’s also a spy. So, he can’t really show his face to anyone. Because of all the undercover work he does.”
“Ahh, of course.” Bertram tightened a screw on the false prey’s leg.
“Which is also why I can’t tell you his name,” Helena added. “Only his codename, which is Agent . . . Lanternsaw.”
“Did you actually just do the ‘see an object, say an object’ thing to make up a fake name?” Bertram said in disbelief.
Helena shrugged. “That may well be how he came up with it. But you can’t blame me for his lack of creativity.”
Bertram grabbed the false prey’s leg and shook it, testing the strength of the juncture. It held. “So, is that your dream guy? A marquess-doctor-spy with an enormous fortune and an island bird sanctuary?”
“I don’t know that he’s my ‘dream guy,’ per se; he’s just who happened to be available,” Helena said, lightly.
“I don’t know how many of us get to end up with their ‘dream Person.’ Hopefully we just end up with someone who loves us.
Although, I wouldn’t say no to an island bird sanctuary.
I think that’s a good quality in a boyfriend. ”
“You do know my mother owns Isla de Sigga, right? She bought it to preserve the only known habitat of the gold-footed phoenix.”
“Of course. I’ve read the reports.”
Bertram nodded. “After my father’s death, I technically am partial owner now. So. I have an island bird sanctuary.”
There was a brief moment of silence.
“I didn’t do that on purpose,” Helena said. “I mean! That sure is a coincidence that Agent Sawlantern and you both happen to have island bird sanctuaries.”
“Lanternsaw,” Bertram corrected.
“They’re both aliases of his,” Helena said. “He even has aliases for his aliases, because he’s clever like that. And he said I could take a romantic tour of his bird island whenever I wanted.”
“Oh, please.” Bertram scoffed. “You would immediately end any romantic entanglement with someone who allowed private visitors to have a date on an avian reserve. Not only would you not continue dating them, you would probably find some otherfolk protection organization to report them to. And then publish several articles about the entitlement of the rich and how human capitalism is a blight on conservation.”
Just like that, Helena’s fantasy of the marquess was shattered, and she was again left with the count.
And Helena was trapped with the knowledge that no imaginary baron, no marquess, no king could ever know her soul the way Bertram, Count of Roussillon did.