Page 85 of Mikoto and the Reaver Village
“He is.”
“Which are you?” Kyrie asked.
“Well, I’m not exactly a dragon of the heights anymore.That’s where I’mfrom, but I have things to do.” Sinder’s claws tappedlightly against the side of the thermos. “This summer, I’m playing dangerousgames with battlers.”
“Youwere. You’re done.” Timur traded Sinder’s empty thermosfor a portion of fish.
“No. I have a job to do, and I’ll finish my job.”
Timur’s tone held menace. “I won’t let them turn you into atest subject.”
“You can’t stop me. You shouldn’t try. This is way over yourhead.” Sinder’s gaze was unwavering. “If you want to help me, keep me on myfeet. I don’t want to delay the battalion’s training.”
Mikoto’s interest levels spiked. “You are trainingbattlers?”
Ginkgo snorted. “Timur, take pity and recruit the boy. He doesn’tlike being left out.”
Timur’s fury bled away. “Not my decision to make. None ofthem are, yes?”
“Yes.” Sinder firmly redirected the conversation. “Kyrie,did you have another question for me? I see one shining in your eyes. It mustbe the last. For now. Because while I promised you answers, I promised Mikoto astory, and such things take time to tell.”
“Is it a story of dragons?” asked Kyrie.
“A story straight out of the heights,” Sinder promised.
The boy admitted, “I do have a question.”
Sinder simply beckoned for it.
“Do we have any Kith?”
“Have you ever asked Lapis?” Sinder’s expression turnedinscrutable.
“I have,” admitted the boy.
“What did he say?”
Kyrie mumbled, “That it is a great secret.”
“I can say with considerable authority that he understatedthe matter.” Leaning toward the boy, Sinder gravely said, “It is averygreat secret.”
THIRTY-TWO
Beckonthrall and Bethiel
“In long ago days, when dragons were enemies of all theworld, including one another, one brave soul departed from the valleys of war,climbing into the austere heights of a lonesome mountain. The place he settledwasn’t good for hatching eggs or succoring young, but PersiflageBeckonthrall—for that was the brave soul’s name—felt as if he’d become part ofthe sky. The nights were clear, and the stars were close. The winds came andwent in a rush, and the stone at his feet sang with remnant songs.”
Sinder had barely begun his story when Kyrie realized heknew it. Or at least a version of the tale. The one he’d learned from Motherwas sprinkled with questions along the way, so that the listener could interactwith the teller. A kind of catechism intended for young dragons. With everyretelling, woven as it was with rote questions and answers, its lessons werereinforced.
A lonesome dragon.
A merciful angel.
A careless wish.
A miraculous outcome.
Kyrie could even guess why Sinder had chosen this particularstory for Mikoto, and that made the telling even more interesting. Settlingback, Kyrie watched Mikoto face. The story had drawn the headman in. That wasonly natural. Few could resist the words of a dragon.
