Everyone gasped.
My exhaustion evaporated as my eyes fixed on the tiny creature.
“Wait, wait,” Enplencourt shouted, waving us back to our seats. “This dragon hatched two days ago. I’ve invited draconarian Holmstadt here today to perform the nerve-severing procedure for you all.”
Scarlett gagged and clapped a hand over her mouth. I glanced at Vanya, who’d turned a shade paler.
“Boys, help him set up.”
There was a folding table, a white tablecloth—which gave me the shivers—and a small rolled bundle of tools. When the man had everything laid out, the silver tips of sharp things poking out of his tool carrier made my stomach drop.
“Gather round, don’t be shy,” said the man. His voice was raspy, and he smelled like antiseptic.
We gathered around the small table. The tiny dragon hopped off the man’s arm and spun in little circles on the white cloth. I wanted to snatch him up and save him, but that might not go over well.
Pressed close behind me was Covington, who peered easily over my shoulder. Beside me, Vanya looped her arm into mine.
“It won’t hurt him,” said Enplencourt, sensing our tension. She clasped her hands at her chest and smiled at the little creature.
“First, the wintercress.” The man lifted a bottle, tipped a few drops of the sharp-smelling liquid onto a cloth. He then gently trapped the baby dragon with one hand and placed the cloth over the dragon’s throat. Within seconds, the dragon slumped against the table. “At this dosage, it has the dual benefit of numbing the area and putting the little guy to sleep. See?” He lifted his hand, and the dragon didn’t move, but its tiny side moved up and down rapidly. The man reached for a pair of pliers.
I crushed Vanya’s arm against my side and turned my face away.
“I can’t watch this,” Scarlett said, storming from the room.
I considered leaving too, but Covington blocked me in. So I settled for pinching my eyes shut. After an agonizingly long time, the man spoke.
“There. It’s done.”
My eyes popped open. The little dragon was still breathing quietly on the table. A tiny slit under his chin, no longer than mylittlest fingernail, was the only sign anything had been done to him.
Vanya dry heaved and rushed from the room. Finally, I was able to step away from Covington’s looming presence.
“He’s fine,” Enplencourt said, a note of annoyance in her tone. She scooped up the limp green form and held it close to her chest, swaying gently.
I almost laughed. Her stern demeanor evaporated as she smiled down at the baby dragon.
“And now he will be able to bond with a human. He won’t be able to kill us, destroy farmland, or burn down neighborhoods. What took only minutes to perform, and did not harm him at all, makes this creature a friend rather than a foe,” said the draconarian.
“But if the procedure happens too late, it does kill the dragon,” I added, carefully. Behind me, Covington coughed quietly. Mabel and Yvonne had moved toward Enplencourt to coo over the sleeping dragon.
“That’s correct,” the draconarian replied as he cleaned his tool with alcohol and returned it to its place. “The flame duct as well as the nerve that controls it run parallel to other important vasculature, including the jugular vein. After one week, the nerve fuses to the side of this vein, and after two weeks, the nerve itself is so intricately connected to the center in the brain where a dragon’s fire is controlled that to sever it is to render a dragon brain-dead.”
My eyes were on the small, sleeping dragon, his long neck slumped over Enplencourt’s arm. “Interesting how their flame is woven so deeply into who they are that it kills them to take it from them.”
“Only if you wait too long,” mumbled Mabel, who looked at the draconarian like he’d just saved the little dragon’s life.
“It’s a fascinating thing, really,” he said, rolling up his tools. “After that point, the tools we currently have are simply not effective to perform the procedure. But research is being done to remedy this.”
“How?” Clarence asked.
The man continued packing up as he answered, “There are research labs working with older dragons.”
“Where do the older dragons come from?” Clarence pressed.
“They are bred for research, mostly. But occasionally we catch wild dragons to experiment on. Much harder, you see, to do proper research on them.”
I let out a dry laugh. The man snapped a wry look at me and strode over to Enplencourt.
