Dragon's-Eye View Page 3

  Tyber grinned as he absently rubbed his shoulder. “Now they’ll take anyone, right?”

  The man shrugged, and a ripe odor rolled off him. “Will they? Seems like that one wanted you especially.”

  “Yeah. Lucky me.”

  The man leaned forward. “Lucky you,” he said with a nod. “I can’t imagine how different my life would be today if I had gotten a chance to sit in the saddle, to be up there.”

  He pointed at the sky, then looked up, as if expecting to see himself there. “You get up there, you can hear the gods, they say. You can hear them whispering. Changes a man.”

  Tyber looked back up to the sky. “Well, I guess I’ll never find out.”

  “You’re not going?” the man asked.

  Tyber shook his head. “You heard him. Academy or dungeon? I’ll take the academy. What fool wouldn’t? But I’m not going up there,” Tyber said, pointing to the sky. “I’ll do what I have to, but I won’t get on the back of a dragon. They won’t let me. No dragon will want a thing to do with a guy like me.”

  Chapter 4

  To Tyber’s relief, Nather’s good sense and experience had kept him from waiting on the other side of the True Gate. Tyber exited the city along with a throng leaving after the conclusion of the swearing-in ceremony. He drifted off the path of True Road and into a criss-cross of alleys and lanes and paths. A collection of cottages and shacks, stables and barns, ramshackle warehouses, and heaps of rubble clung to the wall that encircled the mother city.

  A small girl, barely half-dressed, bumped into Tyber, bounced off, screamed, and ran away laughing. Her thin, dark hair bounced with each barefooted step.

  “Tyber!” a small boy yelled, then waved as he took off after the girl.

  Tyber waved in return and smiled. The smile faltered with a small twinge of pain in his shoulder.

  He’d had the good sense and misfortune to ask questions of the recruitment clerk. Recruits were housed on the grounds, inside a dormitory. They were not permitted to leave the weyr grounds unless accompanied by a proctor. The only exception was brief home visits permitted on holidays. Family members were allowed to visit the recruits at the academy on Sundays.

  As the words dripped from the clerk’s shining, pale lips and stacked up into news Tyber had to deliver to his family, his heart sank. There didn’t seem to be much difference between a trial at the academy and a sentence at the dungeon except that his family got a bonus if he went to the academy. The money was no small matter, and Tyber hadn’t been able to stifle a grin when the clerk confirmed the amount stated by Ander, but it wasn’t without hardship.

  His family depended on the money Tyber brought in, especially in the days right before his father got paid. It would be a real struggle for his family to hold out until his bonus came.

  Tyber patted the empty pouch at his belt. He’d made no money today. There would be nothing to eat at home except what remained of the beets and porridge they’d been eating for the last three days.

  Tyber’s heart sank further into a thick mat of frustration. He stopped and turned to face the looming wall that stood between him and the mother city. It leaned away as if to avoid the odor or contamination of the people outside hefting baskets of laundry, brick, stone, or refuse. They hunched under the weight of their burdens. The shirtless men were so thin it looked as if their ribs would poke through their flesh. They struggled with sacks of vegetables, likely half-rotten and sent to be sold outside the city wall, now that they were no longer fit to sell to the people inside.

  Tyber sighed. What would he tell his family? He turned away from the wall and continued on to his home.

  There was the money. The bonus. Focus on that. That was the positive bit of news in all of this. If Tyber had to stick it out and take Ander’s punishment, he would at least make it to the final and get the bonus. The bonus was more than four months of his father’s pay. But getting there would be an issue. What would they do without him until the bonus was paid?

  The clerk had been purposefully vague when Tyber asked how long the trial would be. Weeks, he had said and said nothing more. How would his family come up with the money they needed to carry them between paydays? They relied on Tyber to find odd work when he could get it. But work had dried up, and Tyber’s first outing with Nather had turned into a costly misstep.

  He continued down the path toward his home, then stopped as he entered a small clearing of dirt. A fire burned in the open air, fed with whatever scraps of wood and bits of rubbish that could be found. Pots and kettles hung on iron spits that criss-crossed the orange flames. Several women and a few men tended to the fire and the various stews and items cooking over it. One of the women smiled at Tyber and waved.

  He smiled back, his gaze falling to her feet. Near her foot was a slab of gray, weather-beaten wood. It hadn’t been kicked into the fire yet, but one end of it smoldered near the heat. His grandfather could still do something with it.

  “Hello, Tyber,” the woman said as he approached.

  “Jesell,” Tyber replied. “How are you today?”

  She shrugged. Her smile faded, and she looked off into the twist of smoke hurrying away from the flames.

  “How’s your grandmother?” Tyber asked.

  Jesell looked back to Tyber. The weight of the answer hung in her hollow eyes.

  “She’s been better.”

  Tyber nodded. “If you need anything…”

  She looked at the fire, to the steaming contents of a blackened copper kettle and nodded, blinking at the mix of smoke and unshed tears.

  Tyber swept down in what appeared to be a bow. He snatched up the slab of wood, then stood and held it up. “Do you mind?”

  Jesell grinned and looked at him as if he was mad. “Of course not. Say hello to your grandfather for me.”

  “I will do exactly that. Thank you, Jesell. Remember, come and get me if you need help with your grandmother.”

  Tyber examined the piece of wood as he continued to his home. His grandfather would be pleased with it. It would help soften the blow of Tyber’s news.

  Halfway down a hill that ended at the shores of the Gul River, Tyber turned into a ragged, small courtyard formed by a half-dozen cottages and shacks. Boards and bits of lumber and half-hearted stacks of stone lined the walls of the small structures. Scraps of cloth and rags hung between the cottages like the webs of a mad spider.

  Tyber opened the door to his family’s cottage and stepped into a cacophony of children. Their voices stopped when they noticed the open door.

  “Tyber!” the younger children cried out. Three small boys and three little girls threw their arms around Tyber’s thighs and pressed their cheeks to his legs. He grinned and reached down, patting them and squeezing them back.

  “Where have you been?” Theola demanded as she placed a heavy pot of water on the table that dominated the single room. The water sloshed up, thick with something, but never breached the lip as if it trying to conceal what floated around inside.

  Tyber shrugged. “Been busy.”

  He turned to the old man stooped over a knife and a knot of wood at the head of the table. Tyber pulled the slab of wood from his belt at the small of his back. “But I found you something, Fafa.”

  Tyber’s grandfather grinned and nodded. “Looks good. Is it burnt on the end there?”

  Tyber leaned back to examine the wood in the light that fell through the doorway. “A bit. But I figured you could make a spoon or something out of it. Make the handle here, you know?” He tapped the charred end of the wood. “You can do something with it, can’t you?”

  “Of course. Of course. Thank you,” the old man said.

  Tyber moved to take the scrap of wood to his grandfather, but two of his sisters clung to one leg, and a brother clung to the other.

  “Well,” Tyber said as he peered at the grinning children. The girls barely contained a giggle as their pointed chins pressed into his legs. “I seem to have grown extra thick legs all of a sudden. I can�
�t move.” He made an exaggerated grunt as he feigned being unable to lift his legs. The children giggled.

  “Is that why you’re late?” Theola asked.

  “Is there someone here who might take this scrap of wood to our grandfather?” Tyber asked as he held the gift up.

  “Me! Me!” Several of the children called, including Unther, who released Tyber’s leg to hold his hand up.

  “Here,” Tyber said as he handed the wood off to Jack, who nearly tripped over his smile to take the gift across the room and hand it to their grandfather.

  “I have the most remarkable news,” Tyber said, and then made an effort to walk over to a chair as his sisters laughed, still clinging to his leg and standing on his large foot. “Who of you remembers Ander?”

  “Erik’s older brother?” Theola asked as she ladled the contents of the pot into bowls. “The one who used to pick on you all the time?”

  At the sound of bowls being placed on the table, the children forgot about Tyber and rushed to take a seat on the benches.

  “He never picked on me.”

  Theola let out a small snort of derision as she handed the bowl to her grandfather.

  “But,” Tyber went on, “all the same, I ran into him today at the Wing Master’s ceremony—”

  “Who is the new Wing Master, by the way?” Fafa asked.

  “Man named Yaris,” Tyber answered.

  “Hmph. Never heard of him,” Fafa commented as he took the bowl and placed it before himself. He wouldn’t touch his own soup until everyone else had eaten, even though it was his right to be served first.

  “He recognized you?” Theola asked.

  “Yaris?” Fafa asked.

  “Not Yaris. Ander,” Tyber said. “I ran into Ander. He’s a royal hordesman now. Has a big, red dragon that smells of rotten eggs.”

  “That’s firebreath,” Fafa chimed in.

  “I saw a dragon breathe fire once!” little Unther piped in.

  “I was speaking to him about being a hordesman and such, and I heard that the King is so desperate for new recruits that he’s offering a bonus of thirteen strips of silver for anyone who enters the academy and sticks it out until the end of the first trial,” Tyber said as if discussing the weather.

  Fafa let out a low whistle. “Thirteen silver strips? My! The old man must be desperate for young blood to feed those wild Westerners. After that last debacle, I bet he finds few takers among the sensible.”

  Tyber grimaced slightly. “I signed up.”

  Silence fell across the cottage.

  Theola spilled another ladle full of soup into a bowl and handed it off to one of her younger sisters and never took her eyes from Tyber. “You did what?”

  Tyber shifted in his seat and straightened his back. “I signed up. It’s thirteen strips of silver. Paid in full upon completion of the first trial. Can you imagine what we could do with that?”

  Fafa stared into his soup for a second, and then looked up at Tyber. “Is that why you did it? For the money?”

  “Does Father know?” Theola asked.

  Tyber shook his head. “I didn’t see him in the city today.”

  “We don’t need the money that badly, son,” Fafa said as he shook his head. “It’s not worth it. There’s a reason the King is offering that kind of money. You were at the Wing Master ceremony. It’s not like Gerig retired as an old, gray man. He was slaughtered along with his entire swell.”

  Tyber swallowed hard and shifted his attention to the pairs of dirty, bare feet dangling from the benches around the table. He shrugged, then looked back at his grandfather. “I don’t have to join the royal hordesmen. There’s a bonus for each trial completed. If I just do one, I still get the bonus. I’ll fail out. They won’t want me for a second trial. But I’ll stick out the first, get the money, and we’ll be able to live comfortably for a while. Come on, Fafa, it’s a good idea!”

  Fafa placed his gnarled and scarred hands upon the edge of the table and pushed his stooped frame up as straight as his back would go. “You are far more valuable to us alive than a whole sack of even gold bars. I beg you, son, please reconsider this.”

  Tyber took a deep breath and sat back against the chair. Theola hadn’t stopped serving soup during the entire exchange, and now their siblings sat around the table, silently slurping from wooden spoons all carved by Fafa’s hands. Their eyes darted between their bowls and Tyber and Fafa, hardly ever resting. They were like the blue hummingbirds that coursed over the fields of blooming heather. Never still but for a second.

  “I can’t, Fafa. I’ve already done it. I’ve spoken to the clerk at the academy and taken an oath.”

  Fafa dipped his head as he leaned forward again and ran his hands through his thin, white hair, then his hands fell to the table with a thump. He looked up at Tyber. “Very well. You have given your word, and in this world, our word is the only thing we have of value. But you have agreed only to the first trial?”

  “Yes, Fafa.”

  “Then keep your word, and speak no more. After the end of the first trial, collect what you are owed and come home. We need you here, Tyber.”

  “Are you going away?” Nos, one of his sisters, asked.

  “For a short while. I have some work to do. I’ll be away for several weeks at least—”

  “When does the trial term start?” Theola asked. “The fighting season doesn’t end for a couple months yet, and you’re speaking like you’re going away tomorrow.”

  “It’s an accelerated trial,” Tyber said. “They’re starting it the day after tomorrow.”

  Lin, the youngest, began to sniffle.

  “The day after tomorrow?” Theola asked, setting her spoon down with a slap. Tyber couldn’t recall seeing a look of surprise on his otherwise unflappable twin sister’s face before now.

  It was at that moment that he realized how much trouble he was in.

  Chapter 5

  The trick of counting the breaths of one of his siblings until he had been lulled to sleep failed Tyber that night. It seemed fitting. He felt steeped in failure. His father had grown quiet when he heard the news, rarely lifting his eyes from the top of the table where he sat next to Fafa.

  The tension in his father had set off weeping among the younger children, and soon neighbors came to inquire if everything was all right. News spread and Tyber began to feel like a man condemned, set to report to the executioner’s block the day after tomorrow.

  Someone stirred and feet padded across the room. Tyber recognized the sound, and then Theola was settling in beside him, curling up so that her face was close to his ear.

  “What is this all about, Ty? The truth.”

  Tyber rolled over onto his side so that he faced his sister in the dark. Outside, a dog barked. The timbre of its warning grew in ferocity.

  “It’s like I said,” Tyber whispered back. “Thirteen strips of silver.”

  “That’s a sack of broken feathers, and you know it,” Theola whispered back. “You hate dragons.”

  “I don’t hate dragons.”

  “You hate the royal hordesmen. You hate all the men who serve the King.”

  “I don’t hate them. That’s a very strong word. I don’t hate Father.”

  “You know what I mean. It’s a very bold and sudden decision you made today,” Theola said. “I want to know why.”

  A sudden burst of laughter erupted from the darkness and shacks outside, muffled by the stone walls around them. The laughter grew hoarse and collapsed into a man’s bark, matching the rhythm of the dog.

  Tyber rolled onto his back and turned his head to face Theola. He could barely make out the slope of her pale cheek, a glint in her eye from the window that let the gods look in on them.

  “We’re not going to get anywhere like this,” Tyber said, and then was surprised to find the words in his mouth. “Look at us. Look at this. The way we live. I have to resort to stealing if I want to make sure we get enough to eat—”

  “You can get an
other job—”

  “There are no jobs,” Tyber’s voice rose in frustration.

  “Shh!” Theola hushed.

  One of the children stirred beneath the blankets.

  The barking man fell back into breathless laughter, and then the laughter died away. The dog barked a few more times and then dropped into silence itself.

  “There are if you keep looking,” Theola said.

  “And I found one. There are a lot of job openings in the ranks of the royal hordesmen these days.”

  “I’m serious!” Theola spat. “And it’s because all of those men died, Tyber. Do you understand that? Do you get it? They died. They and their dragons went over the mountains, and they are not returning. What are we going to do if we can’t even visit your grave?”

  “I’m not going to die.”

  Another child shifted and turned, muttered. Theola planted a finger over Tyber’s lips.

  He pushed her hand away. “Look. I don’t know how many more times I have to say this, but I’m coming back after the final. I’m not going to go on with the training. I’m not going to go on to become a hordesman.”

  “That’s what you say, but I know you’re lying.”

  Tyber’s gut tightened.

  “Nather came looking for you this afternoon,” Theola whispered. “He said the two of you got separated after leaving the Wing Master ceremony. He waited for you outside of the gate, but you never showed up.”

  “That’s what happened.”

  “Stop your lying, Ty. Why would you even go to the ceremony? And I don’t believe there is anything Ander could have said to convince you to join the academy. Something happened. Did he threaten you?”

  “Theola, I am telling you—”

  The table creaked. The two of them stopped talking. The absence of a gasp and groan meant it was not Fafa, but instead their father who was stirring atop the thin pallet on the table.

  A foot prodded Tyber’s shoulder. “Step outside,” his father whispered. A few seconds later, the door creaked. Tyber rolled over enough to watch his father go through the door, silhouetted by the watchful eyes of the gods.