Like a child learning her name, cultures learn to respect and fear the dragons. It’s a matter of convenience, really. Though the vast majority of the people in the cosmere will never meet a dragon—let alone see one in their natural form—dragons do like to interact with mortals. Like a grandmother tucking away that bit of string that wrapped her package, the dragons want to know they have a certain number of easily influenced cultures around, for the proverbial rainy day.
All of this is to explain that when Tress and Crow saw the shadow moving down the large hall to the right, they kind of knew what to expect. Indeed, it had a sinuous neck, a reptilian body, and two vast wings, formed as if to block out the sky.
Other details were unexpected. For instance, the mane of silvery hair that adorned the dragon’s head, continuing down under the neck and chin as a beard. Or the metallic silver ridges that split the dragon’s otherwise onyx hide, outlining his features. This silver ran down the sides of all six limbs, up the sides of the neck, and formed two burnished horns, accompanied by a line of spikes down the back—more subdued, the subjects to the regal majesty of those horns.
There were other mortals in the dragon’s house, though they were not allowed in the entry hall when supplicants arrived. Xisis did not want his servants to be tainted by things like reminders of the world outside. They had important work to do, after all: serving him and his research into the complex ecosystem at the bottom of the spore seas.
It is commonly presumed that dragons collect hoards of wealth, and I’ve often wondered if that tale began because of the otherworldly metal left behind on their corpses. I’ve never known a dragon to be fond of riches. Ideas though…those they do hoard, and in this area they are misers fit for legend.
The dragon did not make the ground shake, despite his enormous size. （He was easily as tall as four humans standing on one another’s shoulders.） Indeed, he seemed to glide as he approached, flowing around columns, entering the shadows at the center of the room. Firelight reflected off his dragonsteel, making it seem like liquid metal as he loomed over the two women. Tress gasped; even Crow cringed back.
When Xisis didn’t speak, Crow found her courage—it had only gotten a step or two away—and spoke. “Dragon Xisis, I have come to initiate your ancient pact of promise.” She gestured to Tress. “To this end, I have brought you this slave to work in your domain.”
The dragon leaned down, his breath like burned hickory wood, and eyed Tress. She looked into those eyes, which were a shimmering mother-of-pearl, and thought she saw into infinity. Then, reflected, she saw herself. And Crow.
You have everything you need…
Tress’s courage had never gotten away, though it had been pounded flat by all the other emotions. As it began to shine through, a certain whimsy struck Tress. Crow had nothing to lose…but Tress had everything to lose. And in that moment, she bet it all on a desperate ploy.
“Dragon Xisis,” Tress said, her voice ragged, “I have come to initiate your ancient pact of promise. To this end, I have brought you this slave to work in your domain.” Then Tress gestured to Crow.
THE SACRIFICE
“…What?” the dragon said.
“…What!” Crow said.
“She will make a good slave,” Tress explained. “She’s very strong—I can show you the bruise on my stomach as proof. And she’s not in the least afraid of spores. She used midnight aether earlier tonight.”
Crow grabbed Tress, reaching as if to forcibly shut her up. The dragon interrupted this by very deliberately moving his forearm forward, letting five silver claws—each as long as Crow’s leg—click against the crimson ground.
“I will not have you harming one another in my house,” he said in a deep voice. “One of you shall be my servant, and I do not like damaged property.”
Crow looked at her reflection in the dragonsteel claws, then let go of Tress.
“Great dragon,” Crow said, “this girl is the servant brought to be your payment. I am the captain of the ship!”
“So you’re saying you’re the more valuable prize,” Tress said, rubbing at her throat where Crow’s nails had scored her.
“I do prefer my servants to be of a certain quality,” Xisis said. His voice was deep not in a musical sense, more in the way that the ground might vibrate with a profound resonance during a quake.
“But you would also prefer a young servant, wouldn’t you?” Crow said, realizing that she would have to argue her case. “I am old and calcified, stubborn. She is young, easy to mold. Why, she hasn’t even been off her home island for a month yet!”
The dragon settled down, folding his arms. To the horror of both women, he looked amused.
“Go on,” he said to Tress. “You have a response to that?”
“Um,” Tress said, “you seem like someone who enjoys a challenge. Which would be more interesting to train? A girl who knows nothing, or a vibrant sea captain, full of skills you could unlock?”
“I prefer not to make too much effort in training my servants, girl,” the dragon said. “You argue against your interests.”
“Yes,” Crow said, “and besides, she is more expert in spores. She has been building devices of ingenious make. She designed a kind of verdant bomb that raised our ship up high above the sea, so rains didn’t destroy us! And she made a gun that fires spores. This girl is some kind of spore prodigy. She will serve you well.”
“Is it true?” the dragon asked Tress. “Did you make those things?”
“I did,” Tress admitted. “I’m not very smart though. I merely took some designs I found and tweaked them.”
“Humble too,” Crow noted. “Who wants an arrogant servant?”
“Crow has experience leading people, sir,” Tress said. “She would make an excellent overseer for your servants.”
“Ha!” Crow said. “Tell him honestly what my crew thinks of me! They hate me, don’t they, Tress? Admit it.”
The dragon rested his head on his forearms, looking almost like a dog with its head on its paws, and grinned at the exchange.
“Powerful Xisis,” Crow said, “this girl is beloved of the people of my ship. She’s earned their hearts after only a short time sailing with us. She is an excellent cook, and is nauseatingly selfless. When she heard her friends were going to mutiny to prevent me from trading her, she offered to go willingly, to save them from danger.”
“Is this so?” the dragon asked Tress.
“I…” Tress said. “Great dragon, Crow needs you to take her as a servant. She’s dying of the spores in her blood. Only by living with you could she be healed. It would be magnanimous and wise of you to take her.”
“Ha!” Crow said, pointing at Tress. “He knows I’ll ask for healing in trade for you! I will live just fine after this.”
“True,” the dragon said. “Child, you are losing ground quickly.” He gestured to Crow. “I cannot see a reason why I’d want this piece of filth in my domain when I could have someone even-tempered, well-liked, and skilled.”
“You should have tried to be more awful, girl,” Crow said. “I warned you that this life was not for you.”