wrote from the perspective of the victors, you remain a sympathetic character in his narrative. Chapelion respects genius.'
Burke cocked his head. 'You can read?'
'Yes sir,' said Shay. 'Chapelion used me as a living quill. He would dictate his books while eating his dinner, or taking his bath, or simply walking the grounds of the College. I faithfully followed behind, recording his every thought. In the hours when his duties took him elsewhere, I had access to his private collection of books, some of the rarest manuscripts in the kingdom.'
'How rare?' asked Burke.
'From the Human Age.'
Shay slipped his leather pack from over his shoulder and sat it on the floor. 'I stole several works from Chapelion before I escaped,' he said, pulling out books one by one. The tomes looked ancient; Jandra noted the titles: The Origin of Species, The Wealth of Nations, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Leviathan. The fifth book was comparatively new-A Glorious Victory: The Defeat of the Southern Uprising. Shay held this book out to Burke. 'I've marked the pages documenting your role in the rebellion.'
Burke didn't reach to take the book. 'Why would any man want to read a catalog of his failures? My sole claim to fame before Dragon Forge has been losing a rebellion.' Burke shook his head, then glanced toward the fireplace. 'Now I fear the next history written about me will say I learned nothing from my mistakes. They'll note how poorly planned our uprising was, and how little thought was given to what would come after we took Dragon Forge.' He took off his spectacles and cleaned them on his shirt. 'It's bad enough that people who don't read history fail to learn from it; how much worse is it that the men who lived it are unable to gain any wisdom?'
'The blow you struck here is still echoing through the kingdom,' said Shay. 'The dragon hierarchy is on the verge of collapse. Sun-dragons plot to seize advantage over other sun-dragons in this time of turmoil. And now, Chapelion has allied himself with the valkyries and plots to overthrow Androkom as High Biologian, risking a civil war among the colleges. The dragons are so busy with their intrigues, you may never face an attempt to retake Dragon Forge.'
Burke shook his head. 'We can't count on that. If it does work out that way, I still don't expect to wind up as a hero in anyone's history. Ragnar is going to get all the glory.'
As if the sound of Ragnar's name had summoned him, a voice boomed from below: 'All glory belongs to God!' The elevator that carried Burke's chair up to the loft rattled as the chains lifted it. The bushy, unkempt mane of hair that wreathed Ragnar's leathery face came into view. As usual, Ragnar was naked. He'd taken a sacred vow not to wear clothes or cut his hair until the last dragon was slain. His body was crisscrossed with scabs, souvenirs from the battle to capture Dragon Forge.
Jandra cast her gaze at his feet. Ragnar was her brother, though they'd been raised apart. As an orphan, she'd dreamed her whole life of finding a blood relative, someone who would instantly resonate as a member of her true family. Now that she'd found one, it had left her feeling even more orphaned than before.
Ragnar hadn't arrived alone. He was surrounded by eight burly warriors in armor he'd taken to calling his Mighty Men. The biggest of these, Stonewall, was a true giant-easily seven feet tall and thickly muscled. Unlike the other Mighty Men, veterans of battle whose grizzled faces were marred with scars, Stonewall's face was pristine, youthful, and clean-shaven, beneath wavy black locks.
Frost, the man she'd shot, stepped from behind Stonewall, looking furious. His head was wrapped in bandages, and brown blood stained the cotton gauze where his ear had been. Jandra felt a twinge of guilt; she'd only intended to frighten Frost. If she still had her powers, she could have grown him a new ear. Of course, she would likely have been denounced as a witch for the effort.
'Burke,' Ragnar growled. 'My tolerance has limits. Your usefulness as a weapon maker doesn't give you the right to shelter a witch. This is to be a holy city; turn over Jandra, that she may face the fitting punishment for her kind.'
Jandra used the ramrod to slide a new bag of powder down the muzzle of the gun.
'I'm not a witch,' she said, calmly. 'And I'm not Burke's to turn over.'
'If you're innocent you have nothing to fear,' said Stonewall. His voice was as deep and smooth as a sun- dragon's. 'There are tests we will apply to determine whether or not you've been touched by the devil.'
Jandra pushed a bag of shot into the gun.
Suddenly, there was a heavy weight clawing up her back. Lizard, the dragon-child, scrambled onto her shoulder and flashed the same shade of green as her coat.
'No eat! No eat!' he hissed at Frost.
'And now you harbor dragons?' asked Ragnar.
'Where did that come from?' Shay asked, approaching Jandra. 'Did it just change color?'
'He was sitting by the fireplace,' said Jandra. 'He blends into the background when he's not moving.'
'Remarkable,' said Shay. 'The chameleon mutation is exceedingly rare; fewer than one in ten thousand earth- dragons display it. When he's fully grown, he'll become part of the assassin unit known as the Black Silence.'
Jandra already knew more than she wanted to know about these assassins. She'd nearly died when one of them had slit her throat.
'If he's one of those monsters, it's all the more reason to kill him,' said Frost.
'And all the more proof that you are a witch,' growled Ragnar.
'Consorting with dragons doesn't make one a witch,' Shay argued. 'I've been a slave of dragons since birth, yet I'm not a witch. I've come to volunteer for the cause. I confess I am lacking as a warrior, but I have other skills that may prove useful. I've brought books, great works from the Human Age.' He held up a tome by Charles Darwin in one hand and by Adam Smith in the other. 'If there are children here, I could set up a school. I want to lay the foundation for a new golden age of humanity.'
Ragnar walked toward Shay, his eyes contemplating the books. He picked up the copy of The Origin of Species. The book was over a thousand years old. Shay held his breath as Ragnar opened the yellowed pages. Jandra's finely tuned eyes could see the dust that showered down from the book as it was opened, fine flecks of the ancient paper crumbling away.
'It's very fragile,' Shay said softly, as if fearing that his own breath might damage the pages. 'Please be careful. I intend to transcribe it before I-'
'The world needs only one book,' Ragnar said, closing the pages with a violent clap. He flung the tome into the fireplace.
Shay sucked air, as if he'd been punched in the stomach. He dived for the fireplace, reaching into the bright flames to retrieve the book. He snatched it out, but it was too late. The ancient paper flared as quickly as gunpowder in a flash pan. In seconds, all that remained of the manuscript was a mound of black ash.
'You monster!' Shay, shouted, spinning around, his fists clenched. 'Do you know what you just destroyed?'
'Useless old words by a man long dead,' said Ragnar. His Mighty Men drew their swords, ready to strike if Shay approached.
Jandra raised her gun. Frost stepped back behind Stonewall.
'Stop this!' Burke snapped, wincing as he shifted in his seat. 'Ragnar, you're not taking Jandra. She's brought us the formula for gunpowder. Right now, I'm designing and testing weapons that will make the sky-wall bows seem like toys. She and I are the only two people who know the secret. If you so much as lay a finger on Jandra, I'll have Anza slit my throat. I won't use my talents in the service of a man dedicated to launching a new dark age.'
'Suicide will damn your soul to eternal torment,' Ragnar growled.
'And it will rob you of the weapons that will let mankind rule this world. I'm a pessimist, Ragnar. I've anticipated that you'd ruin this since the day we met. I've been in constant, non-stop, pain since Charkon ruined my leg. Don't think I wouldn't welcome death.'
Ragnar glared at Burke, as if trying to determine if the machinist was bluffing. Ragnar frowned; no doubt in his mind all heathens were unstable enough to kill themselves out of spite. The prophet turned his gaze toward Jandra. Lizard hissed at the hairy man. Glowering, Ragnar looked toward Shay, then to the pile of books beside the leather backpack.
'Take the books,' he barked to Stonewall.
'No!' said Shay, rushing to grab the pile.
'Let him have the books,' Burke snapped. Anza leapt forward, sword drawn, putting herself between Shay and the bag. She shook her head slowly as she eyed Shay.
