Page 17 of Claimed by the Savage Dragons
Something beeps and he pulls out the little box I saw him with when I first came into the cavern.
‘Tor. Go.’
I hear talking and I blink, my eyes starting to hurt from being perpetually wide.
‘Yes, I have the Tribute but keep an eye out for Orin. I sent him ahead. Make him muck out the stables until I’m back.’
There’s indiscernible noises coming from the box and Tor listens to them intently.
‘Because Morcai’s ideals still run deep, especially in the younger ones, that’s why. I’ll deal with him when I return in two more days. I strained my wing. I’ll be resting up here for a day. The Tribute is safe, don’t worry.’
He puts the box into his pocket and sees me watching. ‘A method of communication. From before the Fall.’
I’ve heard stories of the technology the old world possessed. ‘A…fome?’
He smiles. ‘Phone. Or, in this case, a cellular or mobile phone. They still work in some areas where we’ve kept the infrastructure in good repair.’
‘And this place? I couldn’t see inside until I had passed over the threshold.’
‘This was once a military installation. Research and Development. Toys for warmongers.’ He lets out a chuckle but then seems to recall that we aren’t friends and frowns at me.
‘There’s a bathroom down that hallway. The water should be warm if you want to bathe. Dinner will be finished in a few. Don’t try to leave. There’s only a few ways out of here and you need wings to use them.’
I nod a little absently, turning around and walking slowly down the hall. There are several doors. I open them all and find bedrooms with actual beds and bookshelves before I find the bathroom, which is small and utilitarian, but has an honest to God shower in one corner that works.
I twizzle the knobs until water sprays out and warms up. I pile my hair on top of my head and stand under the pummelingstream for a minute before I soap myself up with a square bar that’s in a little alcove at chest height.
I’ve had a shower exactly once before, when I stayed over at my friend’s house once. Her family were the richest in town and their house has been in the family for generations. They had lots of ancient things that weren’t common anymore, like a coffee machine and a screen that played stories on it.
How do these creatures have all this stuff? Why?
When I’m finished, I towel myself off and throw on the clothes that Tor gave me.
Rejoining him in the kitchen, I see his nostrils flare for a moment, and he closes his eyes as if he’s in pain. But he recovers quickly, and gestures to the table where two plates already sit. They’re piled with meat and potatoes and peas.
‘Come.’
I sit down and watch as he does as well. He grabs his knife and fork and begins to eat, cutting the pieces into palatable chunks and closing his mouth while he chews.
Manners.
I’ve seen these once in a while as well. Elder Eddard had dinner parties where everyone ate like this. I heard about them.
Not wanting to draw attention, I emulate him, eating slowly even though my stomach is twisting I’m so hungry.
He pours something into a cup for me from an earthenware jug. It’s a deep red.
I take a sip and exclaim softly at the odd taste. It’s not awful, but it’s not like anything I’ve ever tasted before.
‘It’s wine,’ he murmurs. ‘A ’63. Good year, if I recall.’
I cant my head at him. He’s talking like he was there. Before the Fall.
‘How…old are you?’ I ask.
He snorts. ‘Older than I look.’
‘Are all dragons…older than they look?’
