Chapter 17 #2
“I’m sorry,” I finally say. “You’re right.
It would not be kind to her, for her to be the only one who knows who you are.
Or at least, the only one besides those of us who are already in our own trouble.
” I glance at Zan. “And given that Zan’s use of scales in town wasn’t known even in Tasa and Kovan’s time—”
“That’s different,” Zan interjects. “The public perception of the danger of dragons—”
“Sages are just as dangerous,” I interrupt him with narrowed eyes.
“Yes, but the level of bigotry is different. You’re still human.”
Hmm. He has a point, but— “Am I?” I wonder. “I’m over five hundred years old, Zan.”
Something flashes through his gaze, but I don’t know what it is.
I assume I’m going to resume regular aging now that I’m awake, but I don’t really know that, do I? No one has ever done what I have.
Maybe I’m immortal.
My breath catches.
Is that why Zan is planning to leave me? Because I might die on him?
What if I am mortal, and we get even closer, and then I die while he keeps living, like Tasa and Kovan but so much worse?
How would he cope?
All this time I’ve been talking about wanting him to be happy, and I didn’t even see this dragon in the kitchen.
Zan is hardly the one who needs to beat himself up about not realizing things before it’s too late.
“It’s also different,” Teren interjects into my now-whirling thoughts, “because Zan hasn’t ever been part of this community. People don’t know him. They’d react differently when it’s me. And I think... you may not be giving people enough credit, too.”
His fingers are on the talisman again.
“How many people today, Yora, tried to help you when you’d never met them before? Sure, they have some self-interest because of ice cream, and the fact that I was with you lent you some cachet. But most people actually just want to help each other.”
“Unless their other interests are more important to them,” Zan says.
I shove more penance salad into my mouth.
Pretty shoddy as penance goes, honestly, since Zan managed to pick a dish made primarily of fatless, sugarless leaves that I actually like.
“Sure.” Teren waves Zan’s words off. “And if you point a sword at my throat, I might not make the most virtuous decisions either, because there’s the immediate problem of a sword at my throat.
Just because people want to survive doesn’t mean they wouldn’t choose to help people when they’re not personally at risk. That’s not a fair comparison.”
I swallow and point out, “But if they know about you, they will be at risk, and so will you. Isn’t that the whole problem? You’re not confident that no one in the entire village would betray you.”
“If there’s anything I know about humans,” Zan adds softly, “it’s that they’re not a monolith.”
And he would know, wouldn’t he?
Five hundred years of testing who can be trusted and who can’t and to what degree.
Five hundred years of helping sages for no gain, and working with guardians who also gave freely of themselves.
Five hundred years of being hunted by humans.
Five hundred years of having known humans who defended him unasked.
Five hundred years of anyone he cared about dying.
It’s not fair for me to be pushing him as I have.
I don’t understand enough to help Teren, either.
But I still want to try.
I still want for all of us to be happier than we are.
If I can’t even strive for that, then what’s the point of being here?
I steal a bite of salad from Zan’s plate—the fruit part.
It’s good. I look at him inquiringly.
“Peach,” he says.
“I like it. Might taste good with blackberry ice cream.”
“Or you could make an ice cream that uses both.”
Still trying to help other people, even when he thinks he can’t have happiness.
You know what, I am going to keep reaching for joy.
For all of us.
Even if I can’t do it perfectly, it’s better to try.
“Well, if you can’t be truthful with Sunani,” I say slowly to Teren, “maybe I can be. It’s not the same risk for me.”
Zan tenses next to me. “But then you won’t have a chance to live your life free of being a sage,” he says carefully.
“Maybe I don’t want that? I am a sage. Whatever the priests say about that, I’m not ashamed of it.
You don’t dislike being a dragon, even if dragon society is bullshit, do you?
And you’ve helped figure out who can be trusted to help sages once you know how they’ll cope with a dragon.
I can do that too—by seeing how they manage me, with all my wrath, and all my power.
Because if it comes to a fight, the priests won’t be able to take me any more than they can take you. ”
“They nearly did,” Zan reminds me softly.
“Once, in five hundred years,” I counter. “And I get that it means they’re willing to use different tactics now, but so am I. I’m not going to be the same kind of sage that they made of me. Can I try another bite?”
He shoves the plate at me. “The kind of sage that they tried to make of you,” Zan says sharply. “Even when you were working with them, your mind was your own.”
I shrug, trying to spear a few things on my fork at the same time.
Not as effective as piling a mountain on a piece of bread, but I’ll make it work.
“I mean, yes, but not completely, right? I think we’re all products of our upbringing to a degree. There are some things I learned that I can’t unknow, but I also know that I have more to learn. And I’m going to learn it.
“And maybe I’ll start with how to make a friend on purpose.”
Okay, that was too many flavors at once. I don’t even know what I just tasted.
After a moment, Zan says in a dry tone, “Friends with a shy girl who also struggles with how to talk to people.”
“I’m awkward, she’s awkward, we already have that much in common, right?” I joke as I try more of his salad, careful not to take too much.
He does need nutrition after yesterday, after all.
Because I am going to find a way to keep him.
Unaware of my internal plotting, Zan snorts, but I notice Teren’s amusement is distracted.
“Do you not think I can make friends with Sunani?” I ask him. “Will I be too much for her?” I didn’t think so—from my impression of her, I suspect she has more strength than people give her credit for, but—
“No, it’s not that,” Teren says. “I think it might be hilarious, actually. Sorry, just thinking lots of things at the same time.”
Valid. Not everyone has the benefit of five hundred years of meditation to bolster their revelations.
“Before you learn how to make a friend, though,” Teren says, “you’re learning how to reassure a community that you’re not here to destroy them. Remember?”
Oh. Right. The meeting.
I finish swallowing and sigh. “Destroying the opposition is much simpler.”
It’s too bad I can’t use wrath to solve my social problems—
I pause, even as Zan nudges me in amusement.
Why can’t I use wrath to solve my social problems? Why do I think that?
See? I think wryly to myself. Lots to learn.
“It’s not actually that many people who go,” Teren tries to reassure me. “I can help give you some context for where they’re coming from, so if you can read them...”
Oh. I can, can’t I?
Look at that, he is reassuring.
I smile at him. It’s genuine, if a little shaky. “You really are a comfort. Thank you. I’ll be relying on you.”
Teren’s gaze searches mine, then turns thoughtful as he evidently decides that I mean that literally.
And I do.
Just because he thinks his power is useless doesn’t mean that I agree.
And I think he may be beginning to unpack some of the assumptions of his own upbringing, too.
I turn to Zan and say, “I didn’t actually ask you—”
“I’ll be with you today, Yora.”
But not after that.
I can have all of him today—or at least, as much of him as I can get beneath his stupid public disguise—and then he thinks that’s it.
I square my shoulders, taking another determined bite of nutrition.
It’s not going to be it.
I haven’t gotten him to rethink his own assumptions yet, so while he supports me, I’m going to have to take the lead on making a space for both of us here.
Because I’m not settling for less.
Even if it means talking to more humans.