“What’s going on?” Morgan asked, voicing the thoughts of everyone else present, who hadn’t been privy to the mental conversation.
“Mergh has asked Paul to be her hatchling’s rider,” Koradan explained. “It’s a significant responsibility that will take a lot of training. And I think we need to discuss it privately to make sure Paul understands everything that’s being asked of him.” There. That should assuage any further suspicions about exactly what Mergh had been saying. Behind him, Ashd snorted a croaking laugh, knowing that Koradan was currently spouting bullshit to cover his own ass.
Shut up, he snapped at Ashd.You’re not helping.
“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Lynette said. “Talking about it in private, I mean. Thank you all for your support,” she said to the villagers. “It’s good to be home, and we’ll have to see how the idea of a vreki transport service develops over the next week or two.” With a beaming smile, she effectively ended the conversation, and everyone obediently began to drift off, back to the last of their chores before the sun began to set for the evening.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Two hours later, Koradan let himself into Lynette’s house, feeling worn out but happy. He’d spent the rest of the afternoon with Paul and the vreki, explaining Paul’s new responsibilities to him, along with giving him a brief rundown of the training process between a vreki and its rider.
Closing the door of Lynette’s cottage behind him, Koradan slid the obsidian necklace off from around his neck, then replaced it again, but didn’t activate the spell. It was a small but significant relief to be back in his salas form, much like taking off a pair of boots at the end of the day; it wasn’t that the shoes were uncomfortable, but it still felt good to let one’s feet relax.
“Where’s Paul?” Lynette asked as she looked up from the stove, seeing that Koradan had come in alone. She didn’t bat an eyelid at his change in form.
“He’s sleeping out in the barn with the vreki. Apparently he’s taking his responsibilities as surrogate brother very, very seriously.”
“Is Mergh okay with that? I know you said it’s very important that nobody touches the egg.”
Koradan nodded. “Paul understands not to go near it. And Mergh’s very happy to have him there. She sees great potential in him. Choosing a rider as old as Paul is a very unusual thing. Most riders start learning to communicate with a vreki from the time they’re six or seven years old. Learning as an adult is a lot harder. It’s a huge compliment to Paul that Mergh thinks he can succeed.”
Lynette shook her head, but she was smiling to herself. “What are you thinking?” he asked, intrigued by the satisfaction on her face.
“My only son is sleeping in barns, bonding with dragons and signing up to be trained to fly by a demon,” she said, deliberately using the more derogatory terms. “A week ago, I was still trying to keep him locked up every time the slightest hint of danger came along. I would say that the changes have been good for Paul, but maybe he was there all the time, just waiting for an opportunity. Maybe I’m the one who had to change.”
“That’s very insightful,” Koradan said, taking a seat at the table as Lynette set two plates down. The one in front of Koradan held twice as much food as Lynette’s, and he was gratified to see that it was roast goat meat with a generous heap of vegetables, drizzled with gravy. This was one human meal that Koradan could thoroughly approve of.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, and at some point, Koradan reflected that he and Lynette had never actually stated that he would be eating with her tonight. They’d both just assumed as much, and that assumption had proven correct.
“How long does it take the egg to hatch?” Lynette asked out of the blue, when she was about halfway through her meal. As usual, they were sitting opposite each other, and Lynette had seemed distracted since the moment she’d sat down. Presumably thinking about Paul and his new responsibilities.
“Three weeks,” Koradan said. “And then it takes the hatchling about twelve years to mature into an adult. For the first three years they can’t fly, then they spend another three years being entirely clumsy about it. The young vreki will crash into trees, fall off cliffs, misjudge landings, trip over while they’re trying to take off… You name it, they’ll do it. But after that it gets a lot easier. They generally start learning to take a rider around the time they’re eight years old.”
“So what does the rider do in the meantime? Paul’s already fifteen years old. He can’t just sit around for the next eight years waiting for the vreki to grow up.”
“In Chalandros, he’d be learning sword fighting, battle strategy and a lot of history lessons. Here, though, I’d suggest he firstly starts to learn flight paths to and from Minia – assuming the city doesn’t declare us hellfiends and send an army to kill us, that is,” he added, only partially joking. “But aside from that, Ashd has offered to start teaching him to communicate with a vreki and how to fly. There’s a lot more to it than just sitting in the saddle.”
“Ashd offered that?” Lynette asked, a stunned look on her face.
“He likes Paul,” Koradan said. “And he likes you as well. He was never a particularly conventional vreki.”
Lynette smiled, but said nothing more, concentrating on her meal. Koradan got the impression there was more she wanted to say, but she wasn’t quite ready to say it.
“You seem to be taking all this rather well, by the way,” he said, hoping to prod her into further conversation. He expected her to have a lot more questions than she’d asked so far.
“Well, there are a number of good sides to all this,” Lynette said, sounding a little strained. “Firstly, it gives Paul a solid trade to work towards. He’s been having trouble deciding what to do, and if this venture takes off, he could have a long career flying people around as passengers. Secondly, I’ve seen first hand that he’ll have averygood teacher to show him how it’s all done.” She smiled at Koradan, and he felt his chest warm at her praise. “And finally, if it takes a vreki eight years before they can take a rider, that means I have plenty of time to come to terms with the idea of Paul trying some reckless stunt and getting himself seriously injured.” The last part was said with a mix of good humour, resignation and genuine fear. “I know Ashd won’t let him do anything too stupid in the interim.”
Koradan smiled at her. “He has not one, but five very good teachers. Well, four, at least. I think Sigmore’s going to have his hands full with Hazel’s adopted children.”
“I was a little surprised at how quickly that all happened,” Lynette said, finishing off the last of her meal. “I know Hazel’s been looking for a man for a while – she’s just been a bit picky about exactly who it should be – but you said vreki riders didn’t generally get married.”
“I think we’re all rethinking the way we live our lives, now that we’re in your world. The rules of the Stone King’s court no longer apply. If we were following the rules, Ashd wouldn’t have spoken to you, Bel wouldn’t have let me ride her, and Mergh wouldn’t have told me about her egg. Here, we’re all able to express ourselves a bit more.
“So back to Sigmore… He’s always loved kids. But he was chosen to ride Bel when he was six years old, and by the time he grew up and realised what he actually wanted, it was too late. In addition to that, Hazel already has two children, albeit via adoption. That solves the issue of having kids of their own. Salases and humans aren’t biologically compatible. Actually, none of the various species of Chalandros can have children with another species. Interspecies marriages are relatively common, but each time, the couple either has to accept the fact that they won’t have children, or find a… um…” He hesitated. “I’m not sure how polite or otherwise humans would find this idea, but they have to find a male of the right species to act as a ‘donor’ for the biological necessities.”
“Hmm. Awkward,” Lynette said, not quite looking at him.
“Indeed.”
