Now his eyes bug out. “Ten. . .ten thousand more?”
I cough again. “And apparently there are more that may be coming.” I bite my lip. “See, now it seems like all of them are kind of unable to eat back home—something I did here sort of changed things, and now they’re all dying a lot faster, which has probably made them crabby. I’m hoping once they’re here, if we get them a human to bond, they’ll be fine.”
“Because if not. . .” George straightens, seemingly recalling he’s the Prime Minister of an entire country. “I’m sure they’ll be fine. We have been asking Australians to be tested to see whether they’re brights—my Hess has done quite a lot of screenings himself.” He’s beaming, like he’s taking credit on some kind of news channel, gearing up for reelection. I suppose once you’re a politician, you’re always a politician.
I do find myself looking around for a drone or something that might be recording this, but if there’s something nearby, I can’t spot it. “Good for him.” I say, hoping to get him to focus.
I decide that he must have just fallen back on his politician persona to handle the news. Maybe he always goes into Prime Minister mode when he’s stressed out. It takes a special person to go into politics, and a very special person to make it to the top, I guess.
“We’ve identified another fourteen thousand brights, other than the eight thousand or so who have already bonded a dragon.” He clears his throat. “The thing is. . .” When he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobs up and down. “Well, the thing is, only about three thousand or so want to bond a dragon, so that leaves us, oh, about seven thousand short.” He blinks, as if he’s just recalling that there are even more dragons coming quite soon.
“Yes, I knew that could be an issue.”
He shakes his head. “We really can’t force the humans who don’t want?—”
“I’m with you there,” I say. “But where can we find more?” I look around the room. “Quickly, I mean. I’m guessing we have days, maybe?”
Azar and Hyperion share a glance, which makes me think they’re talking without our involvement. It annoys me. I wish I was still entwined—this stuff didn’t happen then.
“Well?”
We believe some of the blessed may have a short time indeed.
“Maybe Thunar’s one of them,” Coral says. “It would be nice if he puked up green goo and died.”
Hyperion’s laugh is loud and abrupt.
I love it.
“You’re certainly not the first to think that,” I say. “I doubt he’ll let it come to that, however. I can see him razing an entire town and forcing whatever human he meets.” He certainly reminds me of the vanir from my dreams. “But listen, were there any other nations who were ‘friendly’ to the dragons, as you told me you have been from the start?”
“Japan wasn’t uninterested,” he says. “And they’re at least close.” He bobs his head. “Germany and Sweden both ask me for updates on how things are going almost daily.”
That’s promising. “As the human prime minister of a large country, maybe you could reach out to them. You don’t have to tell them we’re desperate, but maybe tell them we have new dragons who find themselves in need of humans.”
“I’m concerned the United States might become aggressive if they hear that the population has doubled overnight,” George says.
If they do become aggressive, we’ll send Thunar to deal with it. I’ll tag along to make sure he gets things done. Hyperion’s sense of humor is cracked.
But worse, Coral laughs. “Good idea.”
“No,” I say. “Bad idea. We still don’t want humans getting fricasseed, remember? Even if they bring it on themselves.”
Coral frowns. “But they’re humans who want to destroy us.”
“Not us,” I say. “Them.” I point.
“Right, but we’re with them now,” Coral says.
Your sister is far less conflicted than you are, Elizabeth Chadwick. Hyperion calls me that now whenever he wants to be annoying. It’s irritatingly effective.
“Yes, thank you for that,” I say. “The joys of youth. Listen, we can talk about the United States and how to manage the news of the new dragons later. Right now, I’d love to make some progress on finding some brights for the new dragons so we can tell Thunar we’re on it.”
“The obvious start is to talk to the three thousand or so locals,” George says. The next two or three hours show me how he got the job. He’s actually much more effective at marshaling people and resources than I expected, and by the time the day is done, those three thousand are mostly ready to come up north to bond some of the new dragons.
But eventually, when night falls, it’s time to take a break.
“You can explain to this Thunar that humans sleep when it gets dark?” His eyes are wide and worried. “Tomorrow morning we should be able to arrange the first meet-and-greet.” He snorts. “Or, you know, meet and bond.”
