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Sunday, April 26, 2167

The Gray Ward

Dragon Heights, Wyoming

I baskedin the glow of freedom and waltzed through my morning routine, taking care of Garnet and Tourmaline before settling in to check the news, evaluate what I’d learned, and begin the tedious process of evaluating every photograph I’d taken.

The photographs would be a problem.

The images showed ghostly shapes, and I recognized the carts and stalls from my second trip to Shrine Hill. The haunting quality of the pictures baffled me. Until the photos, I hadn’t believed in the possibility of ghosts.

No wonder my mother had sounded baffled by my claim there hadn’t been anyone at the shrines.

There had been people there, I just hadn’t seen them, heard them, or noticed their presence. Somehow, my new camera had perceived what I had not.

I had questions, and the images provided no answers—at least not yet. While the images were hazy, I could make out the features of those I’d photographed, able to identify some of the dragons I’d met during my second visit to Shrine Hill.

Some form of magic had been at play, and I’d been unaware of it the entire time. I’d noticed how it had seemed strange for us to be alone. I hadn’t noticed anything beyond that oddity.

What sort of magic could bend reality in such a way? Where had I gone? Where had everyone else gone, if I hadn’t been the one to vanish mysteriously?

How could a camera pick up what my eyes had failed to see?

With so many dragons having seen me at Shrine Hill, if someone did examine my search history, I could get away with tossing in some research on the more unusual powers of every color. Most would assume I had questions based on what I’d learned. Some, like the tin ability to open any jar, were common knowledge and viewed as a harmless inheritance.

As someone would report the strange disappearance had I vanished off the street, I performed some searches for strange and weird news, funny news, and satire in Dragon Heights, finding nothing relevant to my trip to Shrine Hill. While I doubted someone was checking my specific internet connection for my activities, if someone were to search through my browser history, they would find chaos. I tossed in a mix of online comics, general research suitable for testing into the system, and a ridiculous number of kitten photos.

That chaos would serve me well, costing investigators a great deal of time and effort if they wanted to deduce what I was doing and why.

I forced myself to focus on my most immediate problem, which involved understanding the nature of draconic magic.

Knowledge mattered, and the photographs proved my ignorance.

My father’s magic could summon shadows, and while I enjoyed a little of his power, in my hands, it had never done anything more than block out unwanted light while I slept. Could he disappear without a trace, hidden in the deepest of shadows? If he could, that wouldn’t explain the photographs or my situation.

The times I had witnessed his magic, he had remained substantial. When I’d been a little girl, he’d abused his powers to play games with me, hiding in the darkness and forcing me to seek him out by feel. Over time, I’d gotten good at spotting him.

In retrospect, I admired my father’s cunning, teaching me how to see through his trickery. The skill hadn’t come in useful yet, but one day, it might.

After checking in on the forecasts for the next rain, which called for slugs or caterpillars with slim chance of green algae, I began with researching the basic powers of dragons in the hope of finding even a single clue. Purple dragons held the top spot for the healing arts, being able to identify toxins at a glance, revealing the source of injuries, and even manipulating flesh, bone, and blood to save lives. The color had limitations, including the inability to raise the dead, but they could work miracles in the operating room.

Within reason, or so the internet claimed.

All magic came at a price, and the purple dragons paid that price in many ways, including pain, taking on the toxin or illness into their own bodies, or having the energy and life drained out of them. I had no idea what prices I endured for my visions.

I’d never experienced any notable fatigue after catching a glimpse of how a wound came to be, and I would have remembered pain. I’d also dodged illness, as I’d missed no more than a day or two a year when I’d been gainfully employed as a police officer.

Several websites dedicated to purple dragons made a point of directing dragon-kin, petitioners, or pilgrims to a medical school in Dragon Heights for training prior to becoming a dragon.

Unwilling to test my luck and draw attention to my interest in the dragon colors, I abandoned the search and transitioned to places with interesting gemstones and rocks nearby so Garnet could add to her collection. A venture to Montana would likely be in our future, as they had a mine with sapphires and allowed the public to hunt for stones at the site.

Uncut sapphires would make an excellent start to her hoard.

I stopped my work long enough to make us lunch, and aware of how much Garnet loved mashed potatoes, I made them for her, topped with butter and some cream, and put some sour cream on the side so she could try it. Then, as she’d gotten a selection of hot sauces to try from the grocery store, I made little tester plates for her, adding a dollop of each sauce on a tiny pile of potatoes.

I made myself baked beans and hot dogs, a food my father had taught me to love when he’d held responsibility for feeding me as a child.

Garnet sniffed the hot sauce, her uncertainty rather amusing.

“It’s spicy, baby,” I told her. I got up, grabbed one of the bags of chips I’d gotten along with a jar of sauce, and brought it back along with a clean plate. I poured some of the salsa onto the plate, used my spoon to spread it into little piles, and added some hot sauce to each pile so I could get a taste of it without just dipping my chips in hot sauce. “This salsa is pretty mild, so it’s not going to be very hot in your mouth. Those hot sauces are going to make your mouth hot. If you don’t like it, you can drink your milk to make the sensation go away.”

To prove it was safe, I scooped a chip into some of the salsa, making certain to get a good helping of hot sauce on it. I popped it into my mouth and chewed.

Had I been in Miami with Erik, I would have begun planning his demise with the sauce; it packed a punch and lit my taste buds on fire. I huffed my pleasure over the heat. I pointed at the appropriate pile of her mashed potatoes with hot sauce. “That one is going to be like putting the fires of hell into your mouth.”

Rather than deter the kitten, she bounded around her dish, gave it a sniff, and chomped a large mouthful of it, the hot sauce entering her mouth first.

I prepared to grab her bottle of milk to lessen the heat in case the experiment went poorly.

Garnet squeaked her excitement before burping.

Then she attacked the rest of her hot sauce piles, pausing long enough to swallow and breathe.

All right, then. I had a kitten with a love of hot sauce on her mashed potatoes.

Reminding myself that it could be worse, I grabbed one of the bottles, gave it a good shake, and drizzled it on to her main serving of potatoes. She squeaked, holding herself back until I managed to get the hot sauce bottle out of her way before she dove at her plate. She slipped, fell into it, and went to work without a care in the world that she wore as much mashed potatoes and hot sauce as she ate.

Tourmaline, who sipped from his indoor nectar dish, stopped to stare at the carbunclo.

Giving my kitten a bath hadn’t been on my agenda, but I accepted there was no way she would ever get hot sauce and mashed potatoes out of her fur otherwise. As she didn’t object to water, I suspected the cunning little beast had figured out she could get her favorite food and a bath in a single swoop.

Clever, sneaky little beast.

I considered trying to teach her table manners, but I hesitated at hampering her ability to enjoy breakfast, even if it meant I’d have to put in some extra work.

I labeled myself as a pushover, finished my breakfast, and wondered how I would turn chaos into order once I finished gathering what information I could from the internet.

* * *

Sunday, April 26, 2167

The White Ward

Dragon Heights, Wyoming

One bathed kitten later,I headed to the White Ward to make use of their fancy libraries. The internet would only take me so far, and if I wanted to get a good look at the obituaries of the murdered pilgrims and check for inconsistencies between print and online editions of newspapers, I needed to do the footwork.

I’d have a hard time hiding what I was doing, but some prices needed to be paid.

I ran into trouble within five minutes of heading over, shortly after I’d claimed a table and had begun taking out my notebooks so I could research both my cases properly.

The librarian spotted Tourmaline, began scolding me while ten feet away, and ordered me out.

Animals weren’t permitted in the building.

I froze, my notebook halfway out of my bag, blinked, and stared at her, opening my mouth to explain how Tourmaline was classified as a true-creation or familiar rather than a mundane bird.

Garnet transformed into her kitten form, perched on my shoulder, and exploded into a mix of growls and hisses. Her fur stood on end, and while she flexed her paws like she wanted to unsheathe her claws, she spared me from a bloody fate.

Tourmaline joined in, and he issued his complaints in a series of shrill whistles, drawing the attention of everyone in the library.

To my dismay, I recognized one of the dragons from my second jaunt to Shrine Hill. Enzo Acri, the leader of the black dragons, strolled over, wearing a suit similar to when I’d first met him but in a dark shade of blue rather than black. “Librarian Themella, please allow me to clear up this misunderstanding. Miss Kinsley is accompanied by her familiar and her carbunclo. They will not bring any harm to your library. They are, pardon my bluntness on this matter, trained to use proper facilities. They are not mere animals. I do understand your concerns, but I am certain had Miss Kinsley been given an opportunity to explain, she would have.”

I nodded to the black dragon before working at calming the feathered and furred tyrants. Both still bristled, and it took promising Tourmaline we’d go look at some pretty flowers after we were done our business in the library to convince him all was well. “If messes are the issue, both are trained to use a toilet, and I’ll clean up anything they do. They are good about not bothering books.” Aware Garnet’s smoky quartz could keep her busy for hours, I’d brought it along with her stone ball to roll around on the carpet. “I have brought Garnet’s toys, and Tourmaline will likely rest, as I wouldn’t bring nectar into a library.”

The librarian sputtered, stared at me, and then fixed her gaze onto Enzo. “You know this woman?”

“The Ramonses came to evaluate if Miss Kinsley is a suitable caretaker for Garnet.”

Garnet growled, and I scratched behind her ears and soothed her. “Please forgive Garnet. She becomes quite upset whenever someone implies that I’m not.”

The librarian sighed. “They’re back?”

What on Earth had my parents done to the poor city of Dragon Heights? Had they left to give the place a chance to recover from their wicked ways? If told that was the case, I would believe it without hesitation. Puzzled, I glanced at the leader of the black dragons. “Is there something the matter with them?”

Enzo snickered. “There’s nothing at all amiss, Miss Kinsley, so don’t look so alarmed. The Ramonses are notoriously grouchy dragons, so if you have passed muster with them, there is no reason to believe you won’t do an exemplary job of caring for your carbunclo and your familiar. She acquired the bird during the last rain. After hearing of her general tendencies, it comes to no surprise that one manifested the first time she was outside in a rain. You were outside, yes?”

Interesting. Being outside during the rain was a condition for a familiar manifesting? I’d have to look more into familiars, why they were allowed anywhere in the city, and how I’d have to safeguard Tourmaline. “For the start of it, yes. Garnet was playing in a puddle when it started. I scooped her up and took her inside when it began.”

“It is good she is playing,” the black dragon replied, and he smiled. After a little dance, Garnet permitted him to pet her. “I won’t be taking away your human, little one. How is she settling with her collection?”

With the librarian hopefully appeased, I reached into my backpack, pulled out her quartz, and unwrapped it from its velvet, spreading the material out and resting the stone on it so the table wouldn’t be damaged. The carbunclo squeaked, transformed into a wisp, and floated to her stone before resuming her kitten shape. As she always did when greeting her prize, she wrapped her paws around it and rubbed her face against it to mark her territory.

“That’ll keep her amused and happy for quite a while. It’s among her favorites from Shrine Hill, Mr. Acri.”

“I am pleased she enjoys the stone. How lovely. What brings you to the library today?”

“Research for testing,” I stated, and I crossed my eyes at the thought of taking the test so I could have the same rights and general privileges as other residents. “I’m also going to be checking out the newspapers, as I find myself a bit more curious about the local happenings than before.”

“Do you need a sponsor for the test?”

There were two forms of the test, one with a sponsorship and one without. The one without had higher requirements, as sponsored test takers had fallback if life didn’t go as they pleased. “I was going to take the test without sponsorship.”

“I would be pleased to offer you sponsorship for your test. It’s a small matter, and the titaniums have brought it to our attention how much good you’ve done for Dragon Heights, so the least we can do is offer a domicile and welcome should you encounter unexpected hardships. You’re quite reliable, and you do not take well to charity or handouts, or so we’ve heard.”

Busted. “There’s some truth in that. I like being self-sufficient.”

“I shall have my clan’s sponsorship registered, then. You go by Kinsley here?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, it’s truly appreciated.” As I hadn’t registered a last name and opted against possessing one, I gave the black dragon my identification number. My middle name was common enough; it was my first and last names that would cause me trouble in Dragon Heights.

Few went by Kirani, and declaring myself to be a Ramons would draw the attention of every dragon in the city if I judged by how people reacted to my parents.

“Librarian, do let me know personally if you have any further questions about Kinsley being in the library.”

The woman had the sense to nod, promised she would, and fled before he could give her a piece of his mind.

Enzo huffed, the sound similar to my father when he let go of something irritating him. “Your choice of library is excellent for your goals. Some of those pesky copper dragons forget art and knowledge should be things accessible by all. I’ll give you my number. If you have any trouble doing research for your test, send me a text. I’ll look into the matter personally.”

Considering what I knew about black dragons, if the library earned his ire, every secret in the place would be exposed. Of course, I had no idea what sort of secrets a library might have, but part of me wanted to poke my nose around and find out. “Thank you. I’ll do that.”

Without much in the way of fanfare, the black dragon got my number and sent me a text, which allowed me to add him to my contacts with minimal fuss. Once satisfied, he nodded. “I will text you with the confirmation of your sponsorship. Good luck with your research.”

“Have a good day, Mr. Acri.”

He left, and puzzled over the whole thing, I decided to do as I’d told him I would, starting with reading the physical newspapers. I asked Garnet and Tourmaline to stay at the table and guard her crystal, my fancy new camera, and my bag.

The newspaper storage was only a few feet away, and I had no doubt I could intervene if anyone got any ideas. While the librarian kept an eye on me, I gathered the latest papers, took them back to the table, and settled in to read. Garnet and Tourmaline cuddled together near the smoky quartz and napped to pass the time.

Using my tablet as a counter reference, I determined that while most of the articles were the same, not everything that was put into the paper version made it to the internet. The physical paper boasted a more robust financials section, longer and more pieces of local political pieces, and expanded editorial commentary on the locals of Dragon Heights.

Unlike online, there was an entire two page article on my parents’ presence in the city. Most of the pictures featured only them, but I’d been photographed as well. In the shot, I regarded my mother with obvious disgust. My father looked somewhere else, sulking over something.

I liked the photograph enough I’d find a copy of the paper and buy it on the way home. The article itself covered how they had come to the city to confirm if I, some unknown vagrant, was worthy of having Garnet. A quarter of the article introduced readers to the carbunclo, where she’d come from, and how I’d acquired her. The newspaper invited opinions on my ownership of the kitten along with our status as living in the Gray Ward.

That might cause me problems.

I took the time to make certain the pages were in their proper order before folding it and returning it to the rack.

Aware of trouble lurking on the horizon, I made the decision to go hunt a copy of every newspaper available for the day, take them all home, and resume my search in a private place, one where dragons might leave me alone.

* * *

Sunday, April 26, 2167

The Ruby Ward

Dragon Heights, Wyoming

To keepmy promise to Tourmaline, I ventured to the largest public park in Dragon Heights, a place reputed to have the highest variety of flowers anywhere in the city. Pleased I’d brought my camera, I went to work photographing every blossom I could. Taking pictures of Tourmaline proved to be a challenge, but unlike natural birds, I had an easier time anticipating what he would do. He always kept me in sight, and he took his time drinking from each flower to catch his attention, confident I’d keep a watch over him.

A few other hummingbirds made use of the park, but for the most part, Tourmaline ignored them. A dull green and cream hummingbird, a female as far as I could tell, made a few attempts to introduce herself. Upon failure, she came to see what I was about.

Judging from the ragged state of her feathers, the bird had suffered through a bad run of luck. I held out my finger, and after darting around, she landed. Aware hummingbirds needed a lot of nectar to thrive, I carried her to some of the nearby flowers the birds seemed to like and held her near the bloom. She investigated, ruffling her feathers and settling her wings against her back.

Once she lost interest, I eased away from the plant, took my time walking to the nearest bench, and sat down, turned sideways due to my backpack. Careful to keep from dislodging her, I wiggled a shoulder out from under the strap, coaxed her into moving to my other hand, and repeated the process so I could access Tourmaline’s nectar dish, water, and powder. Working with one hand challenged me, but within a few minutes, I managed to make a batch, encouraging her to stand on the dish’s ledge and drink.

She did.

I placed the dish onto the flattest part of the bench, hoping the little bird would be all right, and took a picture of her with my camera and my phone. The shot I got on the phone went to Cedrick along with a question about what hummingbird species, what was wrong with her feathers, and if I needed to bring her in to be cared for.

My phone informed me Cedrick texted me with a reply, and after a few moments, he informed me that he couldn’t tell me her species due to her condition, that she could likely use some care, and to check if there were any odd growths on her beak.

Sure enough, there were some lumps on her beak, and careful to keep from startling the bird, I took a picture of her.

Cedrick replied with a request to bring her in, and if my bird had interacted with her, he would need a treatment as well in case the fungus had transferred. His next text saddened me, as he thought she would lose the ability to drink at all if it progressed much further.

Poor bird.

At his recommendation, I got out one of my clean microfiber cloths for my camera, one that hadn’t been treated with anything, waited until the little bird finished drinking, and caught her with one hand before swaddling her in the cloth to keep her from escaping.

That she didn’t struggle worried me, and I cooed to the little bird, taking care not to hurt her. Tourmaline came over, observed what I did, and chirped.

“She’s sick and needs help,” I explained to him. “We’re going to take her to see Cedrick so she feels better.”

Tourmaline landed on my head and settled in to wait, and Garnet came along as a wisp, floating near the little female.

Once my parents found out about my activities, they would laugh me right out of Dragon Heights. If luck held, they wouldn’t find out I’d fallen prey to yet another little critter in need of help.