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“Why, could the mothers not defend their own?”
“Oh, it was a terrible time, during the war. Wyrr against Anklene against Skotl. Groups of dragons were seeking out egg-caves and smashing eggs, killing hatchlings, trying to break the will of the opposing clan or swap murder for murder.
“The First Score were all unmated females, from all three clans. The civil war was at its height. They swore to forsake their clans, guard any eggs or hatchlings brought into their protection, to remain neutral in the war.
“Mated pairs of dragons came from all corners of the Lavadome bearing an egg or two in their mouths. Many eggs were abandoned to the egg-smashers. Some were lost on the way.
“When Skotl came looking for Wyrr eggs they fought them as one, together. When Wyrr came looking for Skotl hatchlings they fought them as one, together. Only three of the First Score knew the key to their arrangement, and of them each knew only a part, so that pain could not reveal all.”
In her imagination, Wistala could see the dragons running for the caves with eggs in their mouths. Dragons fighting dragons above—that she hardly needed imagination to picture. Her own memories supplied the details.
“Ever since, the Firemaids have lived to protect eggs not their own. We guard far-off holes and the hills of our siblings. We prowl unlit tunnels and stand guard in the burning sun at the Uphold entrances.”
From her earliest dreams in the egg Wistala had thought herself a protector of her kind. Here stood a sister in spirit if not in body.
“How many dragons are in the Lavadome?” Wistala asked.
“A score of scores counted six, and another score of scores in the Upholds,” Ayafeeia said.
Wistala had never imagined that so many dragons could live in one place. But she’d seen the pens and cattle that supported the dragons, the scruffy hominids toiling in the dark, spreading manure in mushroom fields and then grinding the grown mushrooms into chunks of feed for themselves and the cattle.
“The first great Tyr, FeHazathant,” Ayafeeia continued, “he and his mate established traditions for the Firemaids, and set up the Drakwatch in imitation of the Firemaids. The idea was that Wyrr, Skotl, and Anklene would serve together and never come to blows again. The Firemaids and Drakwatch conduct skirmishes against each other. Many a mating has had its start in a good tussle against the drakes.
“But this space is important in one other respect. Firemaidens take their first oath here. As they pass into adulthood some take the second oath and are trusted to hold a position. Then there are those who take the third oath, to remain unmated, or rather to mate with all dragonkind and defend it as our own.”
Wistala realized that she’d already made the decision when she heard the story of the First Score. Perhaps she’d found the meaning of her first memory, a hatchling dream in egg of flying above others, protecting.
Now she just had to find the courage to give voice to feeling and put it into words.
“May I . . . may I take the first oath? I would very much like to repay the debt I owe to the Lavadome. You did save my life—more than once.”
“I’d be delighted to exchange the words with you, Wistala,” Ayafeeia said.
“How—” Takea squealed.
“She’s a female dragon,” Ayafeeia said. “That’s enough, that’s always been enough.”
“But how can she ever be trained, if she didn’t pass through the rigors?”
“She looks like she’s seen rigors enough,” Ayafeeia said. “You have no idea, drakka, of the dangers of the Upper World.”
Wistala smiled. The other dragons looked at her as though she’d just vented herself, and she stopped. She’d been too long among hominids. “Oh, the Upper World has its hazards, but there are many fine things to see. It is rich in variety.”
“Rich in everything but dragons,” Ayafeeia said. “Dragons are hunted even into their egg-caves, like one long war.”
Wistala didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t be a lie. It was possible to coexist with the hominids. She’d proved that. She’d even met a dwarf or two she’d liked in the halls of the Wheel of Fire, though they’d have her head if she ever returned.
“Takea, you will prompt her with the words. You’ve won the honor.”
Takea’s griff dropped and rattled. “Maidmother! It’s an honor I’d as soon—”
Ayafeeia raised high her head. “Still that racket. You’ve won more honors than any other drakka present. It’s your place.”
The youngster shrank against the stares of the older dragonelles. “Yes, Maidmother.”
Ayafeeia pointed with her tail-tip to the gritty bottommost part of the hollow. “Wistala, you stand where your mothers and sisters stood before you.”
Wistala took her place and looked up at Ayafeeia and the other Firemaids.
