4.4 - Remara and the Book Thief

The door slams, jolting Ha'Drak awake. He jerks, nearly tilting the statue he's curled around, but he stays put, his heart pounding. The air pressure changes as something large looms over him.

"You are certainly well enough to talk by now," the Merchant says. "This is the ninth flameweave harness you've gotten to vanish into thin air, and I'd dearly love to hear how you managed that."

Immediately, Ha'Drak feels along his chest. No flicker of warmth. The Merchant replaced it so many times while he was sick, but he thought… "Just… wears off, right? S'why they offers more flameweave harnesses with voidflyer sales."

"You seem unaware of your own feat. Yes, they fade, but it should have taken a few weeks apiece, not a day or less."

Uneasy, Ha'Drak mutters, "Well. Can't see shadows to run off anyway. And big talk about no problems getting whatevers you want. So whys it bother you?"

The air by his face chills and he flinches back, hissing and raising his wings. By now, he is familiar enough with the aura of darkweave that he is well warned before it touches his hide. No darkweave touches him this time, but the aura hovers nearby like a warning.

"It is no trouble to get more flameweave, Little Flit. I have the majority of available weavers in-house and they make me anything I ask for, at any hour. However, I've never seen this happen before. I'm intrigued. You don't seem to know how you got rid of your harness, so I have to deduce the information I want from the facts at hand. The only new things in this room are you and this illuminating paperweight, and I have had voidflyers before."

Ha'Drak curls a little tighter around the statue.

"Let go." The voice is even, with no malice. "I will not ask twice."

Growling through bared teeth, Ha'Drak uncoils from the statue incrementally, taking his time. He feels the good, warm air vanish, as if the whole pocket of it is plucked from the desk.

"This has served me better than candlelight, but candlelight will have to do for a time. This situation merits investigation."

Footsteps move away from Ha'Drak, and he lifts his head. "Wait! Where take? Where taking glass thing?"

The footsteps stop. "What concern is that to you? It's not a book."

Ha'Drak's tail curls. "Just. Just likes it. S'not book, but I likes it."

"Yes, well, I'm taking it away for now. I may bring it back in a day or two, but there are a few things I'd like to test out before then."

The door swings open, and the Merchant adds, "Be ready to leave shortly. I'll be back soon. We'll be making a delivery to the Market. Also, leave my ledgers alone."

At this, Ha'Drak flared his wings again, snapping, "Is mine hoard. You said! Any books I pulls down and reads is mine!"

A short, terse laugh. "And you, ah, enjoy a good bit of reading these days, do you?"

Ha'Drak's earfins fold flat against his skull. A savage, roaring need burns in him, and the Merchant laughs about it.

"As I said. Put back the one you took out and leave them be."

The door shuts and Ha'drak's stomach plummets. He feels strangely alone. It was just a little statue, but it made a small safe space, and it had a face, and he could pretend he could still read to it, because it couldn't know what words were actually on the page. Wings dragging, he shuts the ledger and retraces his steps to where the others are kept on the desk. "Wonders if these are his special thing," he mutters. "Rip 'em up. Chew on pages. Hides 'em, promise to tell 'im where they are if'n he lets me go."

And he rips your wings off, one at a time. Maybe breaks bones until you screams where you hide ledgers.

Ha'Drak shudders, shaking off that idea. Grimly, he lowers himself down the front of the desk. He has fifteen minutes, still. He can refresh the map in his head and fill it in a little more while he waits.

Ha'Drak drags himself up on top of the books of the lowest shelf at the back of the study, taking comfort in the ridges of the covers pressing into his hide at different heights. Few things change in this room. By now he has gained a good enough sense of the lowest level of the study to navigate it with confidence. He closes his claws tenderly around the ridges of the book covers and lets one wing fall down over the outward-facing spines, caressing them. Shielding them.

Am on my own bed of books. All these, mine. I sleeps and rise from here. Safe.

Three days, now, since the Merchant removed the glass statue from the study. On the first day they visited the Market, leaving vials of Deathspill and darkwoven clothing with the Merchant's assistant at his permanent booth. When Ha'Drak smelled the acrid tang of the firetongue's breath nearby, he risked asking how the Merchant had captured a firetongue.

"Capture?" The Merchant laughed. "You don't enslave a dragon that large, you buy their services. Na'Refa is a valued employee. No better enforcer to be had."

The initial shock quickly sank into numb acceptance. Of course, a dragon would find the easiest way to enlarge its hoard. Of course.

The next day, it was back to Evenward. The Merchant needed ink. Quills. Several bundles of twine. "It's good to spread my purchases out. Appearing in town often lets me remind them not to slit their own sails. Once, I was occupied elsewhere for a month, and many forgot what they owed me. I had to… remind them. It is far easier for everyone if I am an everpresent face. We are all eager to avoid unpleasantness."

He paused to speak with someone important in the town, inquiring after the health of their family. Fear around them was so strong that Ha'Drak could flick his tongue out and taste a difference in the air after the Merchant spoke.

Today, the Merchant took Ha'Drak and three other people on a personal visit to house at the edge of town. Inside, there was someone who screamed and begged for a long time. The Merchant and his people never spoke. There were lots of hard thud-noises and banging around. Then, silence. Ha'Drak tasted blood in the air.

"Nobody keeps my dues from me, Little Flit. What's mine is mine." The Merchant's voice was softer than a well-worn page. "Watch. Tomorrow when we go to town, nothing will change. The shopkeepers will sell to me. The guards will greet me, even wave me through the gate early. Listen for the fear. It sounds like silence wherever I walk."

The words still echo in Ha'Drak's ears. He shivers on his perch. It is never, ever warm enough in this house and the Merchant doesn't take Ha'Drak outside in the sun long enough to fill him properly. Only a couple hours a day, and then it's back inside. A light ache crawls along the voidflyer's bones. His eyesockets still itch for healing. He lays his head down, shivering, hoping to snatch a few minutes of sleep.

The door creaks open.

"I've brought your not-a-book back, Little Flit."

Ha'Drak raises his head so fast he slams it on the underside of the next shelf.

"It's been three days. This is the longest your harness has lasted. Let's see if it's still here come morning." Something solid thunks onto the desk across the room.

Ha'Drak slithers off his perch and is halfway across the room when he hesitates. He can't spare the reserves to warm all of himself so he can't feel his tail in this cold. His bones hurt from the lack of energy. He folds his earfins closed and mutters, "Merchant. Has extra sun-dots?"

"I don't know, Little Flit. Has a name to tell me?" the Merchant teases.

Knew it was a'purpose. Ha'Drak growls.

The Merchant snorts. "Thought not. I'm locking up early today, so stay out of trouble. We'll return to town tomorrow." The door closes and clicks.

Ha'Drak scuttles the remaining distance to the desk and hauls himself up with practiced ease. Flicking his tongue out, he searches the surface of the desk until—Aaaaaaaaah. The warmth. The good, clean air. He quickly finds the statue and wraps around it, releasing a shuddered breath.

"Yes, yes, knows you're all eager for new story. Such a hatchling." Relief gives him the strength to grumble at the statue like a tired nestmother. "Just wait a bit, need a rest-time. Bad things, today. Very…" He curls in tighter, nearly chasing his tail around the statue. "Very nasty. No needs talk about it. S'okay, you's back. Just in time for stories in a little bit. Little—"

Warmth increases in a sudden blast, bursting over him like a birds' egg dropped on his head. The statue surface even feels like warm egg insides, gooey and pliable. It shifts and he uncoils, rolling away with lightning-fast twists and tumbling over the edge of the desk. He hits the ground with a yelp.

"My friend are you alright please do not be hurt I did not mean to startle you!"

The otherness of the voice stuns him. Ha'Drak lies on his back, ridiculously sprawled, opening and closing useless eyelids. The voice comes from above him, back on top of the desk. It has strange sounds in it, like chiming. Dry, ringing chimes instead of wet words pushed out with air. But beautiful. Clean. Like the bells in town. Even after the words end, the air is alive with the fading chimes of that voice.

"Please I dare not move too much I do not have enough heat to do more than speak to you for a time please say something and tell me if you are well!"

Ha'Drak sucks in air, trying to put his brain in order. His thoughts are uncooperative. "Am… am… um…"

"Oh good at least you are not dead now are you hurt?"

"Um, I… um…" Ha'Drak finally rolls to his feet and makes his way toward the voice. "Um, keep saying things, needs to find drawer handles to get back."

"Gladly I can do that I am good at that hello I have never heard your name and I know you want to keep it to yourself but I would like to give you mine my name is Remara and I've been watching you I've seen everything—"

Finding the front of the desk is simple with that stream of chatter flowing. He begins his ascent as the voice continues.

"—and you were right in front of me when he did something to your eyes it looked like he touched them and they smoked—"

His grip slips and he hits the ground again, robbed of breath. He squeals, "Don't!"

The voice falls silent. He draws his wings around his face for a moment. Am safe. Am fine. Am in my burrow. Visitors is strange, nobodys tries to visit without stealing before, but new talky visitor doesn't wanna steal. Only wants talkings. Go talk.

He folds his wings back and tries again. This time, he reaches the top. He remembers exactly where she is from this point and turns his face toward her. "So. You's alive and you's R'mara. How's you talking? Was statue, I sees it before… before."

"I'm not a statue that only happens when I do not have enough heat and I still do not have enough heat to do very much I have been absorbing your harness but firelight is weak so I have been storing it away deep inside—"

Ha'Drak lifts his head, flicking open his earfins. "Oh, that light! Remembering, you has light in center, is why Merchant wants."

Her voice is strained as she answers, "Yes I store it there I can keep reserve heat there if I need to I was hoping to gather much more over time but that isn't possible anymore we have to get out of here."

His wings lift, the tip of his tail twitching. "Out? You has plan?"

"Something close enough to a plan but it has to happen before morning when the Merchant comes back you see he took me away to see if your harness would disappear while I was gone and of course it didn't because I was the one who was taking it from you and now I'm back and I just absorbed your harness again and released my little store of heat so I could spend a short time talking with you so he will come back tomorrow and see that you have no harness again and know there is something different about me and then he will keep me separate from you and we will not ever be able to escape."

A little flame burns in Ha'Drak's own chest. "You keep talking escapes. How do? What plans you?"

"First I want to make sure I understand something correctly I have seen some black dragons like you vanish and reappear and I think I know how but you need to explain to me how it works please."

Ha'Drak slumps, laying his chin down on the cool wood. "If plans needing that, is no good plan. I jumps between shadows. Has to see exit shadow before jumping into entry shadow. If'n no see exit shadow, could ends up anywheres. Underwater has lots, lots, lotsa more shadow'n overland, big chance ending up underwater dead."

That gentle voice presses him. "Are you sure that is the only way you travel through the shadows are you sure there isn't more to it than that are there any stories of your elders using the shadows differently?"

"How'd I know? Oh, I see. You thinks is like humans. Big circles in cave together, young, older, oldest alltogethers. No is like that in colony. Nestmother only and lots lots little voidflyer hatchlings until old enough to fly and build hoard." He shrugs his shoulders. "Is no like humans. I read stories, wise old ones teach young, yes? Not for us."

"Then describe to me what happens every single detail."

"Already told—"

"No!" Her voice cuts across his like a harsh slice in the air. "You told me how you think it works and how you understand it works I want you to pretend you are a nestmother and you are explaining to your child how you use a shadow and then I want you to go deep inside your brain and show me every single thought you have as it happens do you understand?"

Ha'Drak bares his teeth, ready to snap back at her, when her voice drops to nearly a whisper, "Please I want to help you escape and I have to get out of this terrible place and I need to hear this because I don't think we have a plan if I can't understand exactly how you use shadows so please pretend I'm a scared hatchling and you are telling me a story about real life for you like you were trying to tell me stories before you knew I could hear you because I really am scared."

His anger fizzles out. He inches forward until the tip of his snout encounters that warm-gooey feeling. "Try. Okay, little hatchling no-wings R'mara, snap'em open ears wide."

He draws on the memory of his nestmother, teaching them three or four at a time. "Nice warm cave we gots here, but can't stay forever, so I teach you best thing ever. See that? Shadow on your right, shadow on your left. You can use. You be watching, one eye always on shadow you wants to crawl out of. Is why eyes goes different ways. Go in on the right, leave on the left, never take eye off left shadow."

He slips into a rhythm, running through the checklist that's become so second nature to him, it's assessed in the time it takes him to glance around a room. "You be sure left shadow's big enough to crawl through, or you get stuck and gotta go backwards or tear off bits a'you on the way out. Backwards is danger, 'cause maybe you didn't look at right shadow hard enough, but you can goes backward if you watched right shadow careful with other eye. Extra careful if either shadow moves, like branches shadow in big winds, might cuts off your nose when you stick it in. Don't trust shadows in wind or candleflame unless desperate, not steady enough. Got all that little hatchling no-wings?"

There is a soft sound like windchimes in answer.

Ha'Drak takes a deep breath, then pictures the first time he ever tipped over the edge of a shadow. "One eye on shadow just outside cave. Whole inside-cave is shadow, so is easy. Just… dip nose down and letting go. Falling into cave-shadow, like diving into water for swims. Before dive, sees exit shadow and all the bits around it in one eye. After dive, all dark and no seeing, so I sees it in head. Feels which way is right to get to shadow outside cave. Pop nose out, moment later. Grab the edge, like cliff, slither over. Am out, outside cave. Make sure all the way out, no leave tail behind. Is big bother regrowings."

There is a loud chime and Remara cries, "I thought so I thought there must be more to it my friend we can get out of here so listen to me you need eyes to leave this house and I can be your eyes but to do that I need to be able to move and to move I need heat there are many things in this room that would burn well in a fire so we must start one so I can take enough fire and heat into myself to move for a longer time then I can be your eyes and guide you out and away from here!"

Ha'Drak shakes his head a little, folding back his earfins in irritation and confusion. "Slowing down. Saying you needs start a fire, how?"

"All the candles are blown out when the Merchant leaves for the night so we cannot get a candle to start a fire but there is a fire downstairs where the Skytes are kept I have seen it and it is…" her words trail off.

When she resumes a few seconds later, there are thin cracking noises mixed in with her words. "It is the most terrible thing I have seen where they are but if you could convince them to give you a burning stick or even better a whole big bundle of flameweave yes a big bundle of flameweave if you can bring me a lot all at once then I will have just enough heat to start a fire like you'd get from a match and that fire will provide me with more heat."

"Downstairs?" he squawks. "No can. Never. Is Deathspill everywhere, is entire floor! Even if no Deathspill, is taking all night to find blind! You has no plan!"

"I do now listen to me because before the Merchant settled me in another room he took me into the room where he keeps Skytes and I have seen it exactly as it is do you understand no you wouldn't I need to explain," her words tumble over each other in her urgency to make him understand.

"It is what I do the moment I woke for the first time I was asked and invited to observe everything to explore and meet and learn and study all I came across so when I tell you I saw that room exactly as it was I mean I saw which paintings were crooked and where the paint had cracked in the upper left corner and I saw the location of every stain on the worktables and where a rusted nail is sticking out on the underside of one of them and I saw the five cages holding Skytes who still have their wings and the rack where fourteen pairs of dropped Skyte wings are hung and every single stain on the ceiling and the four extra-long storage shelves five slots tall where thirty-two Skytes with no wings are housed and I can give all that and more to you for that picture in your mind that you make the moment you stop seeing the left shadow with your eye!"

Ha'Drak's blood freezes as he catches up with her thoughts. "Has never been…" he stops. The truth is, he doesn't know that it's never been done, there are no elders to tell him. "I… is huge risk… easy death, coming out wrong, I…"

His guts clench. His hoard of a year and a half is as good as gone. Any ability to revel and luxuriate in his collected books is ruined as long as he is captive and unable to regenerate his eyes. In addition, he is the latest in a string of voidflyers that have died in the Merchant's custody.

"… am already in death," he says, slowly. "If chance of getting away… is good enough. Say lots more, no-wings R'mara. Tell everything about bad room. Every little bit and where best shadow is, far from firelight. Then tell me rest of plan."

He senses the words bubbling up from her and snaps out one wing to pause the flow. "One thing, R'mara. Am Ha'Drak. That me." He refolds his wing. "Now you tell how we leave."

Author Note: I found a nearly perfect Ha’Drak in an Old Town type place nearby. I needed to recolor him and then it was perfect, so enjoy the visual on what Ha’Drak looks like! (though it's likely he has larger eyes set on either side of his head)