Davion

"See?" said Quinn, "I told you he’d be up!"

They stood before an impressive home of granite and cedar. It was modest, for the affluent section of the city. Zebulun saw the flicker of a candle against a wall through a window on the ground floor.

Quinn clung desperately to Zebulun’s left arm to stay vertical. "You say he’s the wisest person you know?" asked Zebulun.

"Totally! He knows, like, everything. He taught me how to read!"

"Hm."

Zebulun knocked on the door.

After some shuffling within, a small metal door-within-the-door swung open at eye level. The brown eyes looked at Zebulun, then at Quinn, and then the door opened to reveal a tall, gaunt man with light brown skin and dark brown hair. He wore a fine silk robe.

"Quinn?" asked the gaunt man. "Who is your friend?"

"This is my new friend Zeb! Zebulun. He saved me from a beating! Zeb, this is Davion. He’s my smart friend."

"Sorry to impose at this hour," said Zebulun. "Quinn swore you wouldn’t mind."

"Oh no, it’s no issue," said Davion, looking up at Zebulun with curiosity. At his height, he was ill-accustomed to looking up at others. "I was awake. I often read until sunrise. What do you need?"

"He wants to know all about dragons!" chirped Quinn.

Davion looked at Zebulun. "Dragons? I know a little. I have a couple of scrolls. Do come in."

The furniture inside was sparse, but lavish. Davion invited them to sit at a fine wooden table with lush cushions. Scrolls sat piled on top of everything.

"Uhh," said Quinn, still clinging to Zebulun’s arm. "Can you just drop me on that couch over there? I think I need a quick nap." Zebulun deposited Quinn on the sofa. He began snoring within minutes.

Zebulun sat with Davion, who brought bread and cheese for them to share. "It just occurred to me," he said, "that it’s been hours since I’ve eaten anything. Please, enjoy." Zebulun took a bite.

"So," said Davion, "Dragons. You’ve seen Aurelius flying over the city with the king on his back?"

"Yes."

"I estimate him to be approximately sixty feet long and three thousand pounds. His wingspan seems to be at least as long as his body. From what I’ve read, that’s large for a dragon. Most are more like fifty feet and twenty-five hundred pounds."

"There are hundreds of them in the kingdom. Perhaps three hundred, perhaps five. It’s difficult to say. Most belong to lords of great estates or princes of cities. A few belong to the great merchant houses. Others serve the army or navy, as needed."

"I’ve seen them in action," said Zebulun.

"Oh?"

"I’m a captain in the army."

"Really? I wondered who you were and what you did. How on Earth did you meet Quinn?"

"Chance," said Zebulun. "I rescued him from a gang of goons."

Davion chuckled. "He probably owes them money. He’s a degenerate gambler. He’ll win huge sums — through amazing streaks of luck — and then be poor again in a week."

"Anyway," Davion continued, "I have a scroll around here, somewhere." He got up and rummaged through the piles.

"Aha," he said, after a few minutes. "Here we are." He brought the scroll over to the table and unrolled it. Clearing his throat, he read, "Dragons are great flying serpents. They can be up to sixty-seven feet in length, and weigh up to — well, I probably don’t need to read this part. You’ve seen them."

Zebulun nodded.

"Let me see," said Davion, "Only one dragon hatches at a time. On birth, hatchlings are stark white. Their scales darken as they age and are exposed to sunlight. Dragons can be of any color, but their scales continue to darken with age, until the oldest dragons appear black."

"Dragons have powers beyond the understanding of men. They are known to breath fire at great distance, to shift their shape and appear as men, and to have eyes and ears as sharp as any animal."

Davion stopped. "It looks like it goes on into the legends of the dragons and the fair folk, from this point on. I’m sure you’re familiar."

"I heard the stories as a child," said Zebulun. "Dragons once ruled men, subjugating and terrorizing us. Then the fair folk came from other lands and conquered the dragons, ending their reign. Now the dragons serve them, and thus the kingdom."

"That’s a fine summary," said Davion.

"Do you believe it?" asked Zebulun.

"I don’t know. I have read some books of ancient history that suggested there’s some truth to the idea that dragons once ruled the land. I’ve read other, supposedly historical, accounts of the fight between the fair folk and the dragons. How much of it is true is difficult to say. History is written by the winners."

Zebulun looked thoughtful.

"If you don’t mind the question," said Davion, "why the interest in the subject?"

Zebulun took a deep breath and released it. "I fought in the final battle of the war that just ended. In the aftermath, a mysterious woman approached me and told me that she lived in the woods nearby."

"In Eastwood? I thought it was uninhabited," said Davion.

"Everyone does," said Zebulun. "But she claims people live there. She claims also that the locals' tales of elves, goblins, and spirits have some truth to them. Said she feared the kingdom would come for her forest."

"She was right," said Zebulun. "The king plans to raze her forest to build his navy. Then she told me that dragons rule the fair folk, rather than the other way around."

"I have heard that before," said Davion.

"What’s your take?" asked Zebulun.

Davion stroked his chin for a moment. He was beardless, but had a few days worth of stubble. "I’ve never known what to think. My father is one of the fair. I asked him about it, once; he just smiled and changed the subject."

"But," said Davion, "I wonder: does it matter? The kingdom is what it is, and the ever-multiplying laws are what they are, regardless of who is in charge. You either support these things or not."

"Do you?" asked Zebulun.

"I suppose I support order in general," said Davion. "It’s difficult to study philosophy when there’s chaos and violence in the streets. But I could live without many of the rules and decrees we live under. I would like to see the kingdom invest less in war and more in building up the kingdom: roads, bridges, that sort of thing — but I know better than to say any of this too loudly."

"No one wants to be hung for treason," said Zebulun.

"Not I," said Davion.

Zebulun stared off to his right, deep in thought.

After a moment, Davion said, "If there are people living in those woods, I’m curious to know the story behind it. I’d also like to hear about the spirits and such. I would love to have a long conversation with this mysterious woman of yours."

Zebulun thought for a moment, then looked at Davion. "So would I."