Dragonforge

'You know why I keep the human race around?' the goddess asked.

'I didn't know you'd been the one to make that decision,' said Jandra.

'Tobacco,' the goddess said. 'I can build an exact replica of this cigarette molecule by molecule using nanites. Under a microscope, no one could tell the difference. But the taste just isn't right unless the tobacco has come through the whole process; the growing, the drying, the rolling. So, I decided to let humanity live, as long as they kept planting my favorite drug.'

'I see,' said Jandra. She had known that the goddess would be fake. She hadn't considered the possibility she might be insane. Jandra backed away from the smoke, trying to get a feel for her surroundings. Instinctively, she felt they were still underground. Her eyes were drawn from one flickering image in the frames to another. Was that Shandrazel? In another frame, she saw sky-dragons conversing in a room filled with tapestries. Something was odd about them… were they female? The valkyries? Jandra had never seen them before. Finally, Jandra felt her heart leap as she spotted the island temple in one of the frames. Hex and Bitterwood were on the steps, looking as if they were shouting at Adam. Even if she didn't know where she was, it was comforting to know they were still okay.

'You seem easily distracted,' said the goddess.

Jandra brought her attention back to the woman.

'What are all these pictures?' she asked.

'I like to keep watch over my various projects,' the goddess said.

'Your projects?'

'Little social experiments I've nudged along over the centuries. Living for a thousand years means you have time to follow a lot of different plotlines. I like to tune in from time to time. They're like my soaps, you know?'

Jandra didn't know. She couldn't see any correlation between the images and something you would use to bathe yourself.

'Judging from that glassy stare, you're not getting my jokes,' the goddess said, crossing her arms. 'Which clenches it that you're not Atlantean. Know what first tipped me off?'

'No,' said Jandra.

'Your accent. Dragons speak a variant of English, but they do it without the benefit of lips, so the sounds are all shifted. They fake sounds like 'b' and 'p' by pressing their tongues against the roofs of their mouths in a slightly different location than 'd' or 'n'. You do the same thing despite having perfectly serviceable lips. I could hear it when you said, 'big problem.' It sounds like 'dig drodlen,' sort of. Which gives me a good clue who you must be. You're that dragon's daughter. Jandra, I think it is? And your father-for lack of a better term-was Vendevorex?'

'Did you know him?'

'Maybe,' said the goddess. 'It's not important. What is important is that I'm not going to tear you apart atom by atom and scatter your component parts out in a long smear through underspace. You didn't know what you were doing. Punishing you would be like slapping a retard for breathing through her mouth. It's not something a socially conscious ex-hippy such as myself is comfortable with.'

'Are you an Atlantean?' Jandra asked.

'Lord no.' The goddess rolled her eyes as if it was an absurd suggestion. 'I'm the exact opposite of an Atlantean. An anti-Atlantean, if you will. I crippled the damn city when it first came to earth. If the Atlanteans ever figured out how badly I screwed them I'll be the one who ends up as a skid mark in underspace. I'll be… You don' t have a clue what I'm talking about, do you?'

'I confess, I'm having a difficult time following what you're saying. Your accent is odd to me. And you really expect me to believe you're a thousand years old? And you kept the human race alive to grow tobacco?'

'1174, with a birthday just around the corner. The candles on the cake will be seen from Mars. Just kidding. About the cake. God, you have the glassiest expression when I'm talking over your head. You should work on that. Make your default listening face kind of a grin. Seriously, you've got good teeth for a girl living in an era without dentistry. Show them off.'

The goddess walked closer to her again. Jandra started to back away, but found herself paralyzed. She couldn't move a muscle as the green-haired woman came to within a few inches of her.

'Know what I'm doing?' the goddess asked.

Jandra couldn't speak.

'Oh, sorry, let me give you back your jaw.'

Jandra's mouth returned to her control. 'Why can't I move?' she asked.

'You haven't put any locks on your genie, sweety,' the woman said, reaching out and rapping Jandra's helmet with her knuckles. 'You really don't know how to use this thing at all, do you?'

'I've survived this far,' Jandra said, straining to even wiggle her fingers. The same tingling sensation inside her skull she'd felt fighting the statue returned, only now a hundred times as intense.

'For starters, wearing it as a helmet isn't terribly flattering. You have nice hair. Don't hide half of it.' The goddess ran her fingers through Jandra's locks. Jandra's head felt suddenly lighter. The helmet seemed to be melting off her scalp and dribbling down her spine.

'Reconfiguring it to run along your spinal column will make you modestly faster and stronger,' the goddess said. 'The real benefit is appearance, though. You have a lovely face; this will let people see more of it. I like the natural, no make-up look. Fresh and healthy, almost virginal. Still, you could benefit from a little tarting up. Lower the neckline on that fancy blouse of yours. Show some cleavage and you could make men stupid.'

At the mention of the word cleavage, Jandra couldn't help but think of Pet.

'The men in my life are stupid enough, thank you,' she said.

'Heh,' the goddess chuckled. Suddenly Jandra felt free to move again. 'Yeah, a thousand years of evolution has really improved the brains of dragons, but I can't tell a damn bit of difference in men. Of course, humans haven't benefited from my benevolent intervention like the dragons have.'

'Now you're claiming to have created dragons?' said Jandra, feeling her hair. Her helmet was gone; only a few thin fingers of metal ran along her scalp beneath her hair line. The rest of the metal had turned flexible and clung to the back of her neck, trailing down to the tip of her spine beneath her clothing. She again felt her senses altering ever so slightly. What had the goddess done to her?

'I didn't create the dragons. I just tweak them from time to time. When Atlantis triggered the great collapse, there were only a few dozen dragons around. My friends and I helped them survive those rough early years. Then the sky-dragons diverged from the sun-dragons and started that brilliant eugenics program. Following the ninth plague of the humans, the dragon population really exploded. After that, the earth-dragons showed up and… You following this, honey? Am I talking too fast? Maybe you should start taking notes?'

The goddess shuffled through the papers on her desk. Jandra spotted a sketch of a long-wyrm with a cryptic note penciled in the margin-mutagenic expression of multiple limbs. The goddess found a sheet of blank paper and held it out to Jandra, along with a pencil.

Jandra shook her head. She'd had her fill of note-taking under her tutelage of Vendevorex. 'I didn't know there was going to be a quiz,' she said.

Over the goddess's shoulder, Jandra noticed that Bitterwood and Hex had been joined by a tall man in dark clothing, and a smaller, blonde figure. Zeeky?

'So,' said the goddess, 'I want you to understand something. Your genie? Since it's unlocked, I could wiggle my fingers and it would crumble into dust. I'll completely destroy your mojo if you mess with my toys again. We clear on that?'

'I understand you. I think,' said Jandra. Was genie another name for the helmet? She could only guess what a mojo might be. Despite the unfamiliar words, she was certain she understood the main point. Now, she had her own terms to deliver. 'I don't care what you tell Adam or anyone else about your powers. If you want to pretend to be a god, fine. However, I don't want you to make any further claims of godhood to Hex, Bitterwood, or Zeeky. They're my friends, and under my protection.'

The goddess took one last drag off her cigarette, her eyes fixed on Jandra in a cool calculating stare. She stubbed the remnant of the cylinder out in a ceramic plate that sat on the edge of the table. Her expression remained inscrutable for a moment, then, suddenly, she smiled.

'You've got balls. I like that. I have a feeling we can be friends.' The goddess leaned forward and held out her hand. 'Put her there, Jandra Dragonsdaughter.'

Jandra was unfamiliar with the gesture, but instinctively extended her own open hand. The goddess grasped it,