Chapter 9 #2
I try approaching the problem from a different angle. "Why are you talking about alliances and conspiracies? If anything, I’m in an alliance with you."
He gives me a surprised glance. “With me? You think this is an alliance? Between equals? When in fact I have only accepted your services? Such as they are.”
“You’re the one talking about alliances,” I tell him. “And spells and potions. Are you feeling all right?”
He ignores my question. “Another hypothetical thing I want to ask you."
"Fine."
"If a male dragon found himself unusually interested in a particular female of a lesser species, what explanations would you consider most likely?" His expression remains carefully neutral. Unfortunately, his ears have turned slightly blue.
I don't know enough about dragons to understand what that means, but it feels important. "I don't know," I say carefully. "Maybe he likes her."
“Safely assume that dragons never like anyone. How would that change your answer?”
“He likes nobody except her? He finds her charming and attractive and he enjoys listening to her voice? Or he’s interested for some other reason, such as her knowledge or her skill at cooking. Or something else. It’s a very strange question. Can I ask why you ask?”
“You may not. If that is really the only answer you can give, it’s plainly suspicious. You carefully avoided the most obvious reason, indeed the only viable one.”
“And what is that?”
“She’s a witch and used magic,” he says.
“You didn’t think I’d find out, but here we are.
No, don’t try to deny it. It all fits. Now we have been walking in the jungle for two days and we still have no destination.
You led me to believe that Praxigor’s hoard was in this direction, and yet we see no sign of it. ”
“It could still be far away.” At some time I may have to admit that I don’t think Praxigor has a hoard out here. But last time I tried to tell him that Praxigor’s hoard is Astrid, Vyrathion threatened to kill me. It’s a risky thing to bring up again.
For a while we continue through the jungle in silence.
The Plood remain close behind us, walking with an eerie silence.
Their big, black eyes are focused on me.
Clyde walks ahead of the others, like a small, waddling general in front of his troops.
I wonder how much pull he has with them now.
They are a creepy bunch and I’d prefer to not have them follow us.
The more I think about our situation, the less reassuring it becomes. We have no real destination. A hostile tribe is hunting us. Praxigor is somewhere nearby. And our current strategy appears to consist of walking until circumstances improve.
"Vyrathion."
"What now?"
“These Plood that follow us… it would be better if they dropped all the trash they carry and keep searching for gold. Real gold.”
Vyrathion stops, turns and strides back to the Plood. “Slaves! Drop whatever you’re holding. You keep bringing me useless and worthless items. That has to stop. Bring me gold or I will kill you all!”
The Plood scramble away in every direction, shocked by the dragon’s outburst. I feel their fear, too. A dragon is scary enough when he’s calm, but an angry dragon is significantly worse. Five seconds later they’re all gone.
But Clyde stays. And now I notice something in his hand, something that’s not gold.
“What you got there, Clyde?”
The object rests in both his three-fingered hands, presented with all the solemnity of a sacred relic. For a moment I don't understand what I'm seeing. It's dirty and faded and partly crushed, but the shape catches at something deep in my memory.
I carefully take it from him. It's a comb. A cheap plastic comb, with two size teeth. Pink once, though the color has faded from months or years beneath an alien sun. Several teeth are broken off. Dirt fills the grooves. On one side the letters VEGA have been embossed in the plastic.
For a few seconds I simply stare. The jungle vanishes. The dinosaurs vanish. The dragon vanishes.
It's a comb. An Earth comb. And none of the girls I know have said they’re missing one. Indeed we treasure nothing more than the few items we happened to have on us when we were abducted. This could belong to another girl.
My throat tightens unexpectedly.
"Well?" Vyrathion asks. "Is it gold?"
"It’s not," I manage.
"Then why are you looking at it as though you've discovered a new continent?"
I turn the object over in my hands. There's a faint decorative pattern molded into the plastic. The kind of thing sold for a few dollars in a supermarket.
A completely ordinary object. "This came from Earth. My home planet."
Vyrathion's expression doesn't change. “The planet where there’s gold.”
“There’s some. This isn’t gold, though.” I hold up the comb so he can see it.
He peers at it, then reaches out two clawed fingers and takes hold of it. “Ah. It’s well made. Exquisite. One of millions, I think. There must be great wealth on Earth. Where is your planet? Approximately?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “It’s probably light years away. Yeah, they make millions of those. They’re very cheap.”
The dragon strokes one finger along the comb. “This one item may be cheap. But I can feel that there’s immense wealth behind it. If it weren’t broken, it would be perfect. As it is… Oh, you want it back?”
“If I may?” I raise my eyebrows. I expected Vyrathion to toss the comb back to me with contempt. But he studies it carefully and treats it as if it had some value.
He strokes one finger along the back of it, then drops it into my palm. “It’s broken. If it weren’t, it might be of immediate interest. I can sense the effort behind it. The material is unusual.”
“It’s just a plastic comb,” I tell him. “It’s worthless unless you want to comb your hair.”
“Might there be more such items?” He fixes me with his luminous eyes.
I think about it. If there are other girls here, I kind of have to try to find them. It’s something we have talked about before in the tribe, and we’re pretty sure most girls would prefer living in the Borok tribe to maybe having to fend for themselves in this deadly jungle.
“I don’t know. But maybe. Because this means that there was or is another Earth woman here. Perhaps more than one. And perhaps they have more things like this. I suppose they may have gold, too. If they were wearing jewelry when they were taken.”
I kneel down and show the comb to Clyde. "Do you know where this was found?"
The creature immediately blinks. A wave of excitement brushes against my thoughts. Then he points in a specific direction.
I stash the comb in my pocket and glance at the dragon. “Worth a try?”
“It’s not the same direction where you said Praxigor was keeping his hoard. This may well be a trap.” He gives me a little smile with ice at the edges.
“I don’t think so,” I tell him. “I think this is just a sign that more Earth girls are living somewhere here. And there’s a small chance that maybe some of them had some gold on them. Probably not. But it’s just possible.”
If there are girls that have survived in the jungle, they may be moderately thrilled if I bring a dragon who immediately goes on to steal their jewelry.
But I’m pretty sure Vyrathion won’t kill them - he’s extremely menacing and clearly capable of it, but he hasn’t killed me yet, and that’s the only data point I have.
“I suppose I should check,” the dragon ponders. “Can you find these possible gold-owners?”
“I don’t know. If they’re good at hiding, they’ll be hard to find. But maybe we can use the Plood.”
I bend down again and give Clyde a little smile. “How far away?”
He just blinks, and I get no feeling that he knows.
“Can you find them? Can you and your friends find them?”
I’m even less convinced that the girl will enjoy being swarmed with Plood aliens trying to drag them away, but Vyrathion has a good point - they may be really hard to find.
Clyde gives me a feeling that he will try, and I suppose that’s the best I can expect.
I straighten up. “I think they will try.”
“Then we shall go on,” Vyrathion says and strides off in the direction Clyde showed him. “I hope they’re not far away.”