1922–1923
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HOUSE OF LORDS
21 December 1923
EARL of PEMBROKE: My Lords, in Public Affairs the subject that naturally occupies first place today is the issue of dragon rights, which one is never permitted to forget due to the relentless campaigning of the Human-Dragon Coalition. Their radical position, which permeates London and society at large, is what brings me to the proposal I present to you this morning. Mr Speaker, while the Human-Dragon Coalition drags our United Kingdom through a series of violent protests, debates, dragonfires and now war, we, the Humanist Party, are ambitious for the revival of our nation.
Under Her Majesty’s Peace Agreement, it is illegal to kill a dragon. They hunt at will in the fields andforests of Britannia, and, when the year’s yield is poor, we provide them with our own livestock for consumption. They have a dedicated island for hatching purposes and their own paths through the sky. They fly freely over our cities, hold careers to which they are suited, such as manual labour and glass-making. We purchase from them fire and flint, and in return tax their wealth at only a slightly higher percentage than we tax Britannia’s men.
And yet they want more. They accuse us of driving them from their former places of work, and I quote the speakers of the Human-Dragon Coalition here, in the arts, the universities, medicine and law. They complain that we tax their hoards, which contain gold mined by men and not seen since the reign of King Richard the Lionheart! They claim we make no space for them in our cities, and blame us – us, gentlemen! – for the rising disappearance of their young. They even go so far as to suggest that they are being exploited on the black market, which we know is only used by immoral members of the Third Class.
Tell me, My Lords, do you see any dragons in the House today? No? Is this not because they have a nature different from that of us men, one that yearns for the outdoors, for the great expanse of the natural world, and not the confines of Parliament’s walls? Is it really we who have shunned the dragons, or did they not choose to leave?
The emergence of the Human-Dragon Coalition, mere decades after the Massacre of Bulgaria, has shown us just how dangerous, how gluttonous dragons are. Surely it is only the presence of our armies and planes that have kept their gigantesque power in check. Would you feel comfortable sending your sons to be educated by a dragon who has a taste for human blood? How many of you feel concern when letting your small daughters stroll through the park, with only their nursemaids for protection? Think of your wives, My Lords! We have all heard the distasteful yet true stories of dragon bulls seducing women. My proposal is this: the permanent segregation of humans and dragons.
What do dragons bring to society that men do not? Who should come first, My Lords? The honourable gentlemen and ladies of Britannia, set on this earth by the hand of God? Or wild beasts? As the scripture says: ‘Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it: and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth.’
I FIND WYVERNMIRE’S OFFICE BY returning to the hallway with the giant egg statue. It feels like years since I was racing Atlas down to the bottom in heels. I slip through the door behind the egg and into a short, narrow corridor. There’s another door at the end. Is this where Atlas comes to spy on the Prime Minister? I gather myself, feeling the tears dry on my face. I meant what I said to Marquis – it’s time to be realistic. It’s time to give Wyvernmire the code.
I knock.
‘Yes?’
The room is large and brightly lit. A fire is burning in the grate and Wyvernmire’s briefcase sits neatly on an armchair in front of it. On the coffee table is a chessboard, each piece a different species of dragon carved from marble. The woman herself is sitting behind a wide desk, a soft expression of surprise on her face.
‘Vivien,’ she says smoothly. ‘How lovely to see you.’
I clear my throat. ‘Good afternoon, Prime Minister.How was your . . . flight?’
‘Rather tumultuous with all this wind,’ she says, her mouth turning up into a lipsticked smile.
You should try riding a dragon in it.
Wyvernmire looks back down to the paper she’s reading and adds a note with her pen. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure, Vivien?’
I take a step forward.
Careful, a voice inside my head says.
I stop.
Don’t lay all your cards on the table straight away.
Dad’s voice.
‘I came to inform you of my progress,’ I say. ‘In the glasshouse.’
The Prime Minister drops her pen and looks up.
‘Come and sit down,’ she says immediately, gesturing to the chair on the other side of the desk. ‘What have you discovered?’
I sit down on the hard chair and run a finger across the claw-shaped arms. I feel her gaze on me, expectant.
‘Why do you call it a dragon code?’ I ask. ‘When you know that it’s a language? That’s why you recruited me, a polyglot, isn’t it? To learn the language?’
She smiles. ‘What a wise question. We weren’t sure what it was to begin with. And echolocation certainly doesn’t behave like any languages we know.’
