Chapter 70
Seventy
Meri
We took Rymar back to our house after the meeting and fed him. The moment his belly was full, his eyes began to droop. He'd said he'd sleep at Lessa's house, but when his head bobbed at the table for the third time, Omden had enough.
"You're not fit to walk," he said. "You certainly aren't going to make it to a bed next door."
"He can use mine," Sylis offered, mostly keeping up with the conversation. "I can sleep on the sofa. It's nicer than what I'm used to anyway."
"No," I said, making a spontaneous decision. "Put him in my room. Lessa and I can sleep at her place."
Drozel turned to look at me with a lifted brow, but Lessa? She was nodding in agreement even as she grabbed Rymar's arm and all but dragged him down the hall. Rymar tried to resist, but not very hard. Omden jerked a thumb after the pair.
"Should someone help her?"
"Nope," Drozel said. "Trust me, the only people who can make Rymar do anything are the three he lives with and Lessa. The rest of us would just make him turn stubborn."
And to prove the point, Lessa returned quickly and alone. The idea of letting a man sleep on my personal bed was a little weird, but that bed wasn't really mine. It was Drozel and Omden's, and they'd given me the use of it, so that made it better somehow.
It also seemed like the sort of casual kindness Dragons were so good at.
Considering I'd only just announced I was a Dragon, I was feeling like I should consider those things now.
I was one of the kind people, finally. I was in a place where my concern for others did not make me weak.
It made me nothing more than one of them.
Lessa reclaimed her chair and sat, switching to English so Sylis wouldn't be left out anymore. "So, Meri, I think we should stop by the market real fast. The guys can clean the kitchen."
"Why the market?" I asked.
"Because," Omden said as he wiped his mouth and tossed down his napkin, "even though Jerlis is willing to give you citizenship, there's a little tradition in Lorsa."
"What's a Jerlis?" Sylis asked. "I've been trying to figure that out."
"He's not a what but a who," I explained. "Jerlis is the mayor of this town. That's like an elder who is picked by the people, not one who was simply given the title."
"How does that work?" Sylis asked.
Omden waved him down. "We'll cover the government later.
The important thing to know is Jerlis runs the town by popular choice.
Rymar is the second in charge - also by popular choice.
Those two have the power to make laws, but making bad ones means they won't be popular enough to be the choice the next time. "
"That seems like a very good system," Sylis mumbled.
"But," Lessa said, clearly warming up to her idea, "the city only records citizenship. The scribes have always been the ones who have the final say. They make our signs, you see. Those signs are a description we pick for ourselves, and you're more familiar with them than you realize."
"I am?" Sylis asked.
I nodded. "Zasen's sign is the Wyvern. Ayla's is the Phoenix."
"And we use these to sign things," Omden said, pulling his die from his pocket and offering it over.
"What is that?" Sylis asked. "It looks like a bird."
"A falcon," Omden said. "Drozel's a wasp."
"What are you?" I asked Lessa.
She smiled. "Mine's the Gazelle. Tawny and elegant. I thought it felt right back when I was a teenager."
"We get our signs when we become adults," Drozel explained. "Immigrants - whether from the Moles or the Reapers - get them when they become full citizens. You're currently a refugee, which is the first step."
"Explain that to him," Lessa said as she stood. "I don't want to miss Boris." Then she canted her head, encouraging me to join her.
"Excuse me," I whispered, unable to help myself.
The guys were already talking about the structure of rules and rights within Lorsa, and Sylis was peppering them with questions. Considering the three of them barely even noticed me getting up, I didn't feel bad about leaving them with the chores - and I wanted to do this.
I was a Dragon now, and this would make it even more real.
The two of us got ready quickly and headed out only moments later.
As soon as we were off the porch, I reached out for her hand, only to find she was already reaching my way.
It was enough to make us giggle, and then she pulled me even closer, wrapping her arm around me the same way Drozel had earlier.
"So," she said, steering me the short distance to the market, "do you know what you want to be?"
"I do."
"Going to tell?" she asked.
I shook my head. It should be obvious, but I didn't want to ruin the surprise.
And yet, we didn't enter the market the usual way.
Instead, Lessa kept walking straight, almost like she was taking me to the hospital.
Then, halfway down the row of colored fabric roofs, she turned into a smaller entrance, then again to stop at a little booth with a simple white cloth.
"Hello, Boris," she said to an old man sitting there. "I have a new Dragon."
He was like nothing I'd seen before. The man's skin was dark, his hair was light - what little of it there was left - and he had something clenched before his eye. When he turned to inspect me, he didn't bother to remove it, but he did smile in a way that made me instantly smile back.
"Merienne, right?" he asked. "The Phoenix's friend?"
"I am," I agreed. "And you're Boris?"
"The Scribe," he said, offering me his hand the same way Jerlis had earlier. When I took it, he murmured in approval. "It seems you're a little more relaxed than the Phoenix. Maybe they should've brought you to me sooner?"
"Jerlis only approved this today," Lessa pointed out.
Boris thrust out his lower lip and shrugged. "I'm not worried about approval, Gazelle. I'm worried about seeing through the crap. Although, if the mayor isn't against this, that does make things easier." Then he made a point of looking me over. "So you're ready to get your sign?"
"I think so, yes."
"Well," he said, "each sign is unique. To the living, I mean. There are rules for it, and we don't put signs back into use the moment someone dies. Still, tell me what you want to be, I'll tell you if it's available - and if it's right."
"The sparrow," I said.
Lessa shoved a hand over her mouth and turned away.
That made Boris squint at me again. "A small, helpless bird?"
"It's what Drozel calls her," Lessa explained.
"Ah." Boris nodded as if that explained a lot. "So, Merienne - "
"Meri," I corrected. "My father named me Merienne. My friends call me Meri, and that feels more like my Dragon name now."
The man hummed as if he hadn't expected that. "I see. So why do you think you're a sparrow? More importantly, why are you letting someone else name you?"
"I'm not," I promised. "See, Drozel got me a stuffed one, and I didn't know what it was. The stuffed animal, I mean. We had dolls to learn how to be good mothers. Not for comfort. And he's called me a sparrow for a while, but I only knew it was a bird. Now I know what kind of bird it is."
"And?" he asked, clearly wanting more.
So I lifted my chin and stood a little taller, ready to argue for this if I had to.
"They're small, easy to overlook, and boring.
Sparrows are also everywhere, right under your nose, and doing all the things you take for granted.
They're happy with their tasks, and unstoppable, but easy to underestimate simply because they're so small and so common. "
"Are you common?" he asked next.
That made me pause. In truth, I didn't know, and with this man watching me, I had to quickly think of an answer.
"I should be," I told him. "I am kind. I am compassionate. I am not lazy or unappreciative. I don't know if others are like that, but I know it should be normal. Isn't that what 'common' means?"
Boris nodded at me once. "I do believe you are the Sparrow, Meri. It is a good sign."
"And not taken?" Lessa asked.
"No, not taken," Boris assured her. "Everyone wants to be something big and impressive.
They claim snakes, dangerous animals, or unbelievable myths.
Few want to be what they really are. Until today, I'd never met anyone proud of the things that make them ordinary, and yet we all are.
That's what makes a community work, after all. "
"Which is why I picked it," I said. "Yes, Drozel made me learn about it, but I'm not going to change myself for a man ever again."
"Good girl," he praised. "Now, how do you want your sparrow to look? Is it sitting on a branch? Pecking at the ground?"
"Flying," I told him. "Doing, going, helping. I don't know, but it should be flitting the way they do."
"And I'm paying," Lessa said even as the old man turned to the table before him.
"Yes, you are," Boris assured her, scribbling on the closest blank page before him.
"I'll earn it back," I told her softly, trying not to interrupt the man.
Lessa just shook her head. "No, this should be a gift, Meri. I also think you deserve it."
"Thank you," I mouthed.
And then we waited. The man's pencil moved furiously, making a lot of quick, decisive marks. While he worked, I couldn't help but wonder if his age made this harder, but then again, writing wasn't taxing. I couldn't imagine drawing was any worse. The thing in his eye might help him to see too.
Then he turned in his chair, sliding the paper toward us. Lessa and I both leaned in, excited to see what was there.
The design was small, exactly the size it would be on the metal sign die, but still clear.
The bird was arcing its body up gracefully, with both wings raised, but tilted enough to show its back.
The head was dark, just like the little brown and cream birds that bore the name.
To me, it seemed to be both flitting and dancing.
"That's beautiful," I breathed.
"Sixty bucks," Boris said, holding out his hand to Lessa. "It will be ready in three days."
"She'll need a chain for it as well," Lessa pointed out. "I think she'd like one that matches."
Boris looked at me quickly, then back to Lessa. "Silver. That's sixty-five."
"Seventy," Lessa said, laying the money in his hand. "You made a simple design into something perfect for her. Take that as my appreciation for your work."
"It will be a very nice chain," Boris promised as he pulled the paper away.
"So that's it?" I asked. "I'm the Sparrow now?"
"Almost," Boris said as he reached for a book. "This is the part that makes it official." And he flipped open the pages, revealing nothing but lined columns and page upon page of signatures.
The man had to flip to the last few to find the first blank line.
Then, he began to write, speaking as he did so.
"On this day, I, Boris the Scribe, name you, Meri, as the Sparrow.
The mark will be that of a sparrow flitting.
" He stabbed the page with the last word, turned the book, and passed me the pen.
"Sign here. Only your name as you want it to be officially recorded. "
"So, just Meri?" I asked.
"If you want to lose the rest, then yes."
I found the spot and scrawled my name proudly, using the short version. That made it my real name now! It felt like shedding the last piece of my past, but when I dotted the I, something a few lines above caught my eye.
"That's Ayla's signature," I told Lessa, pointing at it.
"Mhm," she agreed. "And a few Dragons have had birthdays since and been given a sign. Now, it's your turn."
"And now," Boris said as he closed the book and let me see the front of it showing this was the entire registry of Lorsa's Citizens. "You are officially a Dragon."
"The Sparrow," I beamed. "Thank you!"
"You, Sparrow, are very welcome," he told me. "Make the Gazelle take you to celebrate."
"That," Lessa said, "was exactly my plan." And she wrapped her arm around me and turned us both back the way we'd come.
"Maybe we can just go home?" I asked when we left the market.
She gave me a surprised look. "Home?"
I nodded. "Yours, this time. I think I'm spending the night..." I could feel my cheeks heating up. "And I suddenly feel like heading to bed early. You know, to celebrate."
There, in the middle of the road, Lessa stopped me and turned me to face her. "Meri... Are you sure?"
"I was married, Lessa," I groaned. "I know the worst things that can happen, but it's never like that with you. I want to see the best. I want to be alone with you to try it, so I'm not embarrassed."
"It?" she asked. "No, I don't..."
"Not sex," I assured her. "But, you know..." And I caught her hand. "Maybe more kissing?"
"Lots more kissing," she agreed, spinning me so she could wrap her arms around my body and press her chest up against my back. Then she guided me forward, leaning in to say beside my ear, "And talking, and smiling, and even some touching?"
I glanced back. "Maybe even sharing that bed of yours all night?"
"That," she whispered against my neck, "is a very good way to celebrate. I think you picked the perfect sign, Meri. You move a lot faster than I expect, but I like it. A lot."
"Me too," I breathed, pulling her arms tighter around me. "I keep waiting to wake up."
"Nope, this is real," she promised. "This is the life you actually deserve."