Page 208 of Phoenix's Fire

"The hunters," Ayla explained, "were harvesting and the Dragons attackedthem out of nowhere. The hunters had to defend themselves and ran out of bullets. In the end, one man cut the tail from the beast, the Wyvern rushed to feed on the wounded Dragon, and the stinger was the only weapon our hunters had."

"They abandoned the dead," I told her. "Zasen and the rest of the militia hauled back the corpses that were intact so they could have a burial. The ones that had been butchered were buried in the forest so the families wouldn't need to see it."

"But that was when we were sure," Jerlis said. "It was when we realized the Moles were hunting us for food. Eating us. But the loss of tailless women has been so rare and infrequent we've never been able to confirm they're intentionally taking them. Just that they're missing after the battles."

Ayla nodded. "When I was a girl, there were maybe a dozen women in quarantine. I never counted, but between eight and twelve, if I had to guess. I also know my mother died and was composted, but more children are still being born from there."

"Thirty-two," Jerlis said, passing a stack of papers to Ayla. "In twenty-eight years, they've taken thirty-two women. This is all of them, with the dates they went missing. I've gotten descriptions of them where I could. In some cases, entire families were lost, so we have limited information from the friends and neighbors."

Ayla took the pages, handing half to Saveah. Both women immediately began to scan what was before them. Ayla trailed her finger down what looked like a list.

"Black is like Naomi?" she finally asked.

"It is," I told her.

"What happens when a black woman has a child? Is it random? Some are pale, some are dark?"

Saveah made a noise like that wasn't quite right. "Typically, skin color is a mix of the parents. Well, for us tailless. For the tailed, their color and pattern are inherited separately, but that's a whole other thing."

"A black mother with a white father," I said, "will often have a brown child. A brown parent with a white one will often have a very light brown, or nearly white child. Why?"

Ayla licked her lips. "My hair is gold. Meri's is the color of most Moles. Hers is almost silver-blonde. Mine was dark, but my friend has pink-blonde hair. Some boys have ashy-blonde. We're told it will lighten with age, and that shades happen, but..." Her eyes fell to the pages again. "None of us are brown. Hair, eyes, or skin."

"What are you saying, Ayla?" Saveah pressed.

She tapped at a name. "This woman had black skin and hair. I saw a woman with dark hair once, but her skin was pale. None had dark skin. No child in the compound has brown skin. I don't know if they were put into quarantine - or if something worse happened."

"Killed?" I asked.

"That's what I'm afraid of," she admitted. "God chose the Righteous because we were most like Him. That's what they teach the children. We are the last of the proper people, and things like that."

Saveah grunted, clearly not impressed. "Those people are sick!"

"Power-hungry," Ayla said, then looked up at Jerlis. "May I have these, or do I need to copy the information?"

"Those are for you," he said. "But if they didn't keep the black women, what happened to them?"

"I don't know," Ayla admitted. "The second time the Moles attacked - I mean, for me - a hunter was trying to 'save' a tailless woman. She had skin like Irrik." She glanced at me. "Brown, but lighter. This black woman was taken long ago, before I was born. What if they learned the children won't be orin?"

"By trying?" I asked.

Ayla nodded. "Women are vessels. We are the weaker gender, meant to be fruitful. Our opinions aren't important, and our manners should be gentle. If not, we will be punished until we learn to be godly."

"Fucking Moles," Saveah grumbled.

"But Dragons know English," she said, still looking at me. "Maybe not well, but enough to figure it out quickly. Enough to learn how to survive the way my mother did. Enough to tell the men it will never work."

"Shit," I breathed. "And I'm sure they wouldn't let them go."

"No, I don't think they would," Ayla agreed. "They'd use them as compost."

Behind his desk, Jerlis growled. "Do whatever you need, Ayla. If you need more, you tell me, because we..." He gestured at Ayla, Saveah, then himself. "...will not let our relatives' deaths go unpunished."

"No, I'm going to make themallpay," Ayla swore.

And I believed her. In that moment, I was even scared of her, because she said those words like nothing more than the cold, hard truth.

Sixty-Five