pocket. 'This sounds like something I should be writing down.'
'I doubt you'll have the luxury of checking your notes in situations where you'd be using this,' said Burke. He showed her two white cotton sacks, each about the size of her thumb. 'To speed the loading process and to keep the powder compact, I've sewed up the appropriate amount of powder into these bags. Each charge provides a serious kick. The other bag holds small lead spheres and is jammed in front of the charge bag. The explosion will produce an expanding force of hot gas that propels the spheres down the barrel at great speed.'
'How fast?'
'The balls of lead will come out of the barrel at about ten times the speed that an arrow flies off a bow. It's going to make a crack like thunder.'
'Yowza,' said Jandra.
'Yowza?' asked Burke. 'I don't think I've ever heard that expression.'
Jandra frowned. 'I haven't either. It must be something she would have said.'
'The goddess?'
Jandra nodded, then sighed. She already had enough problems connecting with other humans, having been raised by a sky-dragon. The fact that her most recent adventures had left her head jammed full of alien memories only added to her sense of isolation and loneliness. Of course, having the memories of a thousand-year-old woman from a far more technologically advanced society had a few benefits. She now knew the long-lost recipe for gunpowder, for example.
Burke looked concerned. He was a member of the Anudahdeesdee, a Cherokee clan dedicated to remembering the secrets of the once dominant human civilization that existed before the Dragon Age. His people had a long history of confrontations with Jasmine Robertson, the so-called goddess, the woman who had altered Jandra's brain.
'So, what are these scale marks along the barrel for?' She was eager to change the subject.
'I often design my inventions to resemble creatures in the natural world, like my spy-owl, my chess monkey, the time-frog, etc. I was going to call the gun the Noisy Snake, but the scale pattern was taking too long, so I gave up halfway. It had no bearing on the function.' He shook his head as he looked at the gun. 'My grandfather used to scold me for being more concerned with making sculptures than machinery.'
Jandra smiled. 'Your daughter showed me the spy-owl. I liked the attention to detail in the feathers. You're a talented sculptor. The fact that you've only needed a week to design and build a shotgun from scratch shows that you're an equally talented engineer. '
Burked didn't look cheered by her words. 'I'm putting a lot of trust in you, placing this in your hands and sending you outside the fortress. If the dragons capture this and figure out how it works, it could forever change the world. Are you certain you can get your powers back?'
'Nothing in this world is ever certain,' said Jandra. 'But, the sooner I leave, the better the odds are that no one has taken the genie.'
Burke nodded. 'Anza's anxious to leave as well. She says she's tired of the way this place smells. She should be here in a moment. Let me-' Before he could finish his sentence, shouting erupted outside the window.
'Get it!' someone yelled.
'Circle around!' a man called out. A dozen other excited voices chimed in.
Jandra went to the window. She raised the pane and leaned out. The action was taking place only fifteen feet below her. A crowd of men were chasing a tiny green earth-dragon. The earth-dragon was the smallest she'd ever seen, barely a foot tall, obviously a child. Unlike adult earth-dragons, wingless beasts who moved in a slow plod, the earth-dragon child was darting back and forth like a jackrabbit. Despite its speed, it was pinned in by the crowd, and quickly found itself with its back to the wall directly beneath Jandra.
The men gathered round, keeping a slight distance as the small dragon opened its turtle-like jaws wide and hissed. Its tiny claws flexed as it took up a defensive stance. Its long, skinny tail whipped back and forth like a cat ready to pounce.
Jandra recognized the leader of the men, a white-haired, bearded fellow named Frost, a blacksmith from the foundry. His eyes were wide and he was smiling, as if chasing this young dragon were great sport.
'Frost!' Jandra yelled. 'What are you doing?'
The crowd looked up. Whispers ran among the men. Jandra caught the word 'witch' among the murmurs.
'We found this lizard hiding in a cellar! We're going to cook it!'
In response, the earth-dragon yelled, 'No eat! No eat!'
Jandra felt her stomach turn at the thought of what these men were going to do. A month ago, the drop to the street would have looked imposing. But, in a process similar to the reshaping of her memories, her body had also been fine-tuned, leaving her with a physical prowess that rivaled even the legendary Bant Bitterwood. She leapt from the window, shotgun in hand, and landed in a crouch between the crowd and the dragon child.
'Back off!' she said. 'The new rule is: if it talks, we don't eat it.'
The men looked wary. Jandra knew it was due to her reputation as a witch… a reputation that, at the moment, was completely undeserved. Once, she'd commanded the elements, and would have been able to summon a ring of fire to shield her, or simply turn invisible to escape a fight. Unfortunately, she required a device known as a genie to use her abilities, and her genie had been stolen. Until she got it back, her 'witchcraft' was nothing but bluff.
She stood, pulling back her shoulders. The green wool coat she wore hung down to her ankles. She hoped that the bulky coat and the thick heels on her leather boots helped hide the fact that the smallest of these men outweighed her by a hundred pounds.
Frost was the largest of them, broad-shouldered, barrel-chested, with biceps like hams. His face was speckled with a constellation of scars, pale white splotches from a life spent hammering hot metal. While some of the men looked nervous after Jandra's sudden appearance, Frost didn't show the least flicker of intimidation. He said, 'Even if you are Ragnar's sister, you have no authority to declare what is and isn't food.'
Jandra put the shotgun to her shoulder, imitating the firing stance she'd seen in Burke's sketches when he'd designed the gun.
'I think you'll find this gives me the authority,' she said.
Frost didn't look impressed.
'Is this more of your magic, girl?' Frost mocked. 'Where I'm from, we burn witches. Perhaps we'll cook the lizard over the fire we build from your bones.'
The dragon child grabbed Jandra's coattails. He cowered behind her legs and yelled, 'No eat! No eat!'
Frost took a step forward.
'Not one more step,' Jandra growled.
Frost took one more step.
Jandra raised the barrel of the shotgun, targeting the empty air above Frost's head. She pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. What had Burke said about a safety? She examined the intricate firing mechanism.
Frost reached out to grab the gun. Jandra slipped aside the metal latch that kept the flint from falling. She pulled the trigger again as Frost's fingers closed on the barrel. The hammer clicked down. For half a second, there was a flashing light and a sizzle, plus a lot of smoke.
Lightning struck.
At least, it seemed like lightning, with a bright flash, a thunderous boom. The butt of the shotgun slammed into Jandra's shoulder, knocking her into the wall. Everyone in the crowd jumped in unison, wide-eyed.
Frost released the gun and spun away, cursing. He raised his hand to his right ear. Jandra had meant to aim above his head, but the gun had fired in a more or less random direction after Frost grabbed it. When Frost lowered his bloodied fingers, his ear was gone. Only a few shreds of bloody flesh dangled where it had been.
Jandra was disoriented. She hadn't expected the gun to be so loud. She looked around, uncertain where the dragon child had gone. Her arm was numb from the impact of the shotgun.
She couldn't help but wonder why the goddess had worked so hard to rid the world of guns. Of what use was a weapon that crippled its user?
The crowd grew deathly silent as Frost recovered his wits. He narrowed his eyes in anger.
'Witch,' he snarled. Jandra could barely hear him over the ringing in her ears. 'The last time a woman scratched me, I tore her nails out!' He lunged toward her, arms outstretched.
Before Jandra understood what was happening, something human-sized dropped down from above, landing between her and Frost. The crowd sucked in its collective breath.
