I conveyed that to Mr. Needham, who nodded and rubbed his chin. Perhaps he used to have a beard.
Lucy had gone to fetch snacks, and she returned with a chunk of cheddar, a basket of rolls, some pickles, and Georgiana and Mary.
“Oh, this is fabulous!” Georgiana exclaimed, throwing her hands roofward when she saw Yuánchi draped in leather straps.
“This isinsane,” Mary said, but her pressed lips curved in grudging admiration.
“Miss Darcy caught me with the tray,” Lucy said to me.
“I suppose that was inevitable,” I said. I raised my voice to address everyone. “But this is secret!”
Mary surveyed the crowded boathouse. “Secret fromwhom?”
“Mr. Darcy,” Lucy replied, accurately but more bluntly than I would have chosen.
“That is even better!” Georgiana said. “You can surprise him at his fencing club. They have a huge courtyard.”
After another hour,I accompanied the girls and Mr. Needham to the coach while he mused about lap belts and weight tests. The short-lived winter sun had already set. By the time I caught up on the household and returned to the boathouse, I carried a lantern.
Yuánchi was sprawled on his side, throat and muzzle flopped comfortably on the ground. I pulled a square of scrap leather beside his nose and sat.
“Any thoughts on our project?” I asked cheerfully.
It was long ago. I will remember more when we fly together.
“That seems rather late.”
He snorted in amusement. Yuánchi was utterly confident that flying together was safe. I hoped he remembered I did not have wings.
I added, “When I touched the dagger, my vision of flying showed a wyfe with long, black hair and copper skin.”
The wyfe who flew with me had sunset hair and snow skin.
“Red hair? Where was that?”
Yuánchi gusted air from his nostrils and did not answer. I never knew if these silences were forgetfulness, or reticence, or an inability to express human concepts like geography.
“If you did not fly a wyfe with black hair,” I pointed out, “then my vision is of another dragon.” His muzzle slid close to my hem, gem eyes gazing without response. I decided to be more direct. “What other dragons are there?”
We do not speak the names of those who sleep or are lost.
“Why not?”
Those who are lost take their names with them. Those who sleep rise to new lives, and their names change. I would not know how to name them while they sleep.
“You mean when you sleep for ages, under the water?”
Yes. Even the youngest of draca rise to new lives and names after the water.
This was a flood of information. I considered what to ask next. “Did your name change? Were you not Yuánchi before?”
I was Yuánchi before. But Yuánchi is my human name, not my true name.
“What is your true name?”
His head rose from the ground, eyes coming level with mine.A true name is a song. But I will not sing it to you.
“Why not?”
