A Sending of Dragons Read Free

made.”
    They both knew bake fires could be set
only at night, later than any humans would be out.
Just in case.
Only at night did they feel totally safe from the people who had chased them into the mountains: the murderous wardens who had followed them from the bombed-out pit to the dragon nursery and from there up into the mountains, and the even more murderous rebels who, in the name of “freedom,” had fooled them into destroying the great Rokk Major Dragon Pit. All those people thought them dead, from hunger or cold or from being crushed when Heart’s Blood fell. It was best they continue to believe it. So the first rule of mountain life, Jakkin and Akki had agreed, was
Take no chances.
    â€œNever mind that, Jakkin,” Akki said. “Don’t think about it. The past is the past. Let it go. Let’s enjoy what we have now. Show me your new pots, and then we can eat.”
    They walked into the cave, one of three they’d claimed as their own. Though Jakkin still thought of them as numbers—one, two, and three—Akki had named them. The cave in the Lower Meadows was Golden’s Cave, named after their friend who had fled with
them and had most certainly died at the wardens’ hands. Golden’s Cave had caches of berries for flavoring and for drinks. Akki had strung dried flowers on vines that made a rustly curtain between the main cave and the smaller sleeping quarters, which they kept private from the dragons. Higher on the mountain, but not as high as the Upper Meadows, was Likkarn’s Lookout. It was as rough and uncompromising a place as the man it was named after, Jakkin’s old trainer and enemy Likkarn. But Likkarn had proved a surprising ally in the end, and so had the lookout cave, serving them several times in the early days of their exile when they’d spotted bands of searchers down in the valley. But the middle cave, which Akki called the New Nursery, was the one they really considered their home.
    What had first drawn them to it had been its size. It had a great hollow vaulted room with a succession of smaller caves behind. There were wonderful ledges at different levels along the walls on which Jakkin’s unfired clay bowls and canisters sat. Ungainly and thick the clay pots certainly were, but Jakkin’s skills were improving with each try, and the bowls, if not pretty, were functional, holding
stashes of chikkberries, dried mushrooms like the cave apples Jakkin so disliked, and edible grasses. So far his own favorite bit of work was a large-bellied jar containing boil. It was the one piece he had successfully fired and it was hard and did not leak.
    The floor of the cave was covered with dried grasses that lent a sharp sweet odor to the air. There was a mattress of the same grass, which they changed every few days. The bed lay in one of the small inner chambers where, beneath a natural chimney, they could look up at night and see the stars.
    â€œThere!” Jakkin said, pointing to the shelf that held his latest, still damp work. “This clay was a lot easier to work.”
    There were five new pots, one large bowl, and two slightly lopsided drinking cups.
    â€œWhat do you think?”
    â€œOh, Jakkin, they’re the best yet. When they’re dry we
must
try them in the fire. What do
you
think?”
    â€œI think . . .” And then he laughed, shaping a picture of an enormous cave apple in his mind. The mushroom had an enormous bitesized chunk out of it.
    Akki laughed. “If you are hungry enough
to think about eating
that,”
she said, “we’d better start the dinner right away!”
    â€œWe come. Have hunger, too.
” The sendings from the three smallest dragons broke into Jakkin’s head. Their signature colors were shades of pink and rose.
    â€œ
We wait. We ride your shoulder. Our eyes are yours.
” That came from the largest two of Heart’s Blood’s hatchlings. They were already