(My readers now may be wondering about Ruzt. I had indeed found a kindred soul, in the sense of one who did not quite fit her society’s usual mold: her knowledge of the archaic tongue and small skill at reading were both quite unusual for her gender.)
So: these were the male Draconeans, and Habarz was their chief representative. He and I spoke quite a lot during my time at the place of the elders, for reasons he presented quite frankly. “Regardless of what happens with you,” he said, “we should have a record of it for future generations to consider.”
I decided to risk a little levity. “Then I hope what you record is not, ‘on such-and-such a day we cut off the human’s head.’”
He laughed, and from then on I was more at ease with him. But he did not tell me that my fears were unfounded … for we both knew they were not.
*
Establishing new diplomatic relations is a difficult enough task under any circumstances. Now imagine, if you will, that this difficulty is compounded both by a lack of fluent communication, and by the diplomatic ineptitude of the ambassador. The proceedings seemed as if they would drag on until the following century.
The question that so vexed us was, what to do next? It was all fine and well to make contact with a lone human, but that was only the first step along a very long and treacherous path. I laid the groundwork by explaining to them the situation of the world outside—a subject that could have filled a year on its own, even without the interference of linguistic obstacles, but I confined myself to the most basic elements only. All of it was in the service of making a fundamental point: that whatever they chose to do with me, further contact was inevitable. With armies sharpening their bayonets on both sides of the Mrtyahaima, sooner or later someone would come tramping through the Sanctuary, and that someone would probably be armed. When that happened …
I had long feared for the safety of dragons, once we knew the secret of preserving and using their bones. My new fear was to that one as the Great Cataract was to the melting icicles outside. So few in number were the Draconeans, it would take very little to exterminate them.
And as much as I wished to pretend otherwise, I knew that extermination was a distinct possibility. My extraordinary circumstances had induced me to see the sisters as people rather than as monstrous beasts, but how many others would pause long enough to look beyond their initial impressions?
Any plan that did not end in my imprisonment or death also required the elders to see me as a person, rather than as a monstrous beast. We spent long hours on historical debates over the Downfall, with me citing our own body of evidence, the picture it presented of merciless tyrants overthrown for their cruelty. The basic facts of the Downfall were not particularly in question, though my poor knowledge of Scripture hobbled me on more than one occasion; what we argued about was motivation, until my head ached. Finally I said, in utter weariness, “Oh, what does it matter? I have no doubt there were good Draconeans and bad humans. But they are all thousands of years dead and gone, and what anyone thought or did then is of less import than what they will think and do now.”
“The human has a point,” Tarshi said to her fellow elders. “And if we do not let go of that question for now, another thousand years may pass before we get anywhere.” Habarz grumbled—his scholarly soul longed to establish the truth—but to my relief, the council accepted Tarshi’s point, and we moved on.
One aspect of being at the place of the elders was an unmitigated benefit: I ate better there than I had since leaving Vidwatha. The elders received taxes in kind from villages all over the Sanctuary, and although it was all dried, smoked, or otherwise preserved (as fresh food was still quite some ways off), the variety was much greater. I confess that I ate them out of their entire stock of a certain dried berry, which I craved from the moment I tasted it; this berry has properties similar to those of citrus fruit, and made a dramatic change in my health. And I cannot help but think that also benefited my diplomatic efforts, as an ambassador weak from malnutrition makes a very unimpressive show.
I made a point of taking walks in the garden with each of the elders, starting with Sejeat, the one who had tried to examine my teeth in Imsali. (I was glad I had prevented her. Devouring those berries meant I ultimately lost only one tooth to scurvy, but at the time the interior of my mouth was not a pretty sight.) Sejeat was by far the most curious and accepting of me; Urrte the least so—and to my surprise, Urrte was also the youngest of the lot. But although it is often true that the elderly are the most set in their ways, the least receptive to new ideas and change, it is not by any means universally true. My suspicion was that Urrte, being not only the youngest but the newest to the council, felt the need to establish her devotion to Draconean tradition.
“Are your sisters all dead?” Sejeat asked me one day.
“I never had any,” I said, and laughed a little. “I am more like the opposite of a Draconean; all my siblings are brothers. But my mother, sun be praised, birthed us all singly, rather than in a group.” Having endured childbirth once, I shuddered to imagine even twins, let alone anything more.
Speaking of my brothers was safe enough, but she continued to question me about my family, which led inevitably to those closer to my heart: Suhail, my son, all those who had found a place in my life by routes either personal or professional. I struggled to maintain a stiff upper lip—and then, upon reflection, wondered if that was truly the best course of action. Would it not help for the Draconeans to see that a human was capable of feeling?
Enough time had passed since the avalanche that I was able to speak of my loved ones without collapsing into tears as I had before. Indeed, such conversations gave both me and my purpose strength: as the Sanctuary warmed, the day when I might attempt the col drew nearer. My passionate determination to be reunited with them interwove itself with my passionate determination to aid the Draconeans, and both blazed higher with every passing day.
I worked half the night with Ruzt to prepare my words to the council, so that I could present my vision for a path forward without confusion. The next morning, I requested permission for us to meet outside; this was, I said, a matter for sunlight, not a cave. The latter was the place for inaction, careful contemplation before any decision might be made. My aim that day was to spur them to action.