Margaret Weis - Dragons of Summer Flame

The Decider made a touching speech, to which Usha listened in stone-cold silence, and then the time was at hand. The tide was right; the wind was right. The Irda murmured their prayers and good wishes. Usha turned her back on them all and stalked away through the forest, heading toward the beach, clutching their gifts tightly against her chest.

“I don’t care! I don’t care!” she repeated over and over in what the Protector hoped was a strengthening mantra.

He was the only one who accompanied her to the boat. She refused to speak to him, and he was beginning to wonder if perhaps he’d misjudged her. Perhaps she was one of the unfeeling, uncaring humans. About halfway to the beach, when the two of them were alone together in the woods, Usha stumbled to a halt.

“Prot! Please!” She threw her arms around him, hugged him close, a show of affection she hadn’t made since she’d left childhood behind. “Don’t send me away! Don’t make me go! I’ll be good! I won’t cause any more trouble! I love you! I love you all!”

“I know, Child, I know.” The Protector—his own eyes misting over—patted her awkwardly on the back. He had strong memories of doing this for her when she was a baby, cradling her in his arms, trying his best to give her the love her mother would never be able to give.

When Usha’s sobs quieted, he held her at arm’s length, looked into her eyes.

“Child, I wasn’t supposed to tell you this. But I can’t let you go, thinking that we don’t love you anymore, that you’ve disappointed us in some way. You could never do that, Usha. We love you dearly. I want you to believe that. The truth is... we are going to work magic—very powerful magic, in an effort to keep the evil knights from returning. I can’t explain, but this magic might be harmful to you, Usha, because you are not an Irda. It might endanger you. We are sending you away because we are concerned about your safety.”

A lie, perhaps, but a harmless one. In truth, Usha was being sent away because she might endanger the magic. The human, Usha, was the one flaw in the perfect crystalline structure of enchantment the Irda planned to use to contain the power of the Graygem. The Protector knew that this was the true reason the Decider had decreed that Usha be sent away.

Usha sniffed. The Protector wiped her nose and face, as he had done for her when she was a little girl.

“This... this magic.” Usha swallowed. “It will keep you safe? Safe from the evil?”

“Yes, Child. So the Decider says, and we have no reason to doubt his wisdom.”

Another lie. The Protector had now told more lies in this one day than he had in a lifetime that spanned centuries. He was extremely amazed to find he was good at it.

Usha made a feeble attempt at a smile. “Thanks for being honest with me, Prot. I’m... I’m sorry I was so beastly to the others. You’ll tell them for me. Tell how much I’ll miss them and how I’ll think of you—all of you—every day....” The tears threatened again. She gulped, shook them out of her eyes.

“I’ll tell them, Usha. Now, come. Sun and tide wait for no one, or so the minotaur say.”

They walked to the beach. Usha was very quiet. She looked dazed, disbelieving, numb.

They reached the boat—a large, two-masted sailboat of minotaur make and design. The boat had been obtained by the Irda several years ago, for use in the acquisition of the Graygem. That task accomplished, the Irda had no more use for the boat and had given the Protector permission to teach Usha how to sail it. Though he had dreaded it, he’d always feared this day must come.

Usha and the Protector carefully stowed her two packs—a small one holding personal items that could be slung over her back, and a larger pouch, which held the Irda’s gifts. Usha wore what the Irda deemed sensible clothes, suitable for traveling in the heat: pants made of light green silk, loose and flowing, gathered around the ankles, held in place by an embroidered band; a matching silk tunic, open at the neck, tied around her waist with a gold sash; and a vest of black velvet, hand-embroidered in vibrant colors. A green silk scarf covered her head.

“All those packs... You look just like a kender.” The Protector attempted a small joke.

“A kender!” Usha forced a laugh. “You’ve told me stories about them, Prot. Will I get to meet one, do you think?”

“Easier to meet them than to get rid of them. Oh, yes, Child.” The Protector smiled at old memories. “You will meet the lighthearted, light-fingered kender. And the grim and dour dwarves, the cunning and crafty gnomes, bold and handsome knights, silver-voiced elves. You’ll meet them all....”

As he spoke, the Protector watched Usha’s gaze turn from him. She looked out across the sea. The expression on her face altered, no longer dazed, numb. He saw the hunger now, the eagerness to see and hear and taste and touch life. On the horizon, white clouds massed, building higher and higher. Usha was seeing not clouds, but cities, white and shining in the sun. He had the feeling that if the ocean had been made of slate, she would have run across it then and there.

The Protector sighed. The human side had seized control of the orphan child at last. Excitement glistened in her eyes; her lips parted. She leaned forward in unconscious yearning, ready—as were all humans—to rush headlong into the future.

He knew, far better than she—for he was one of the few Irda to have walked the world—what dangers Usha, in her innocence, faced. He almost warned her; the words were on his lips. He had told her of knights and kender. Now he must speak of cruel draconians, evil goblins, humans with corrupt souls and hearts, dark clerics who committed unspeakable acts in the names of Morgion or Chemosh, black-robed wizards with life-draining rings, rogues, thieves, liars, seducers.

But he didn’t tell her. The warnings were never given. He did not have the heart to dim her glow, tarnish her bright radiance. She would learn soon enough. Hopefully the gods would watch over her, as it was said they watched over slumbering children, stray animals, and kender.

The Protector helped Usha into the boat. “Magic will guide the craft to Palanthas. All you need do, Child, is keep the setting sun on your left cheek. Fear no storm. The boat cannot be capsized. Should the wind die, our magic will be your sea breeze, help speed the boat on its way. Let the waves rock you to sleep. When you awake in the morning, you will see the spires of Palanthas shining in the sun.”

Together they raised the sail. All during this process, the Protector was distracted, arguing with himself , trying to reach a decision. At length, he made it.

When the craft was ready to launch, the Protector settled Usha in the stern, repositioning her possessions neatly around her. This done, he drew forth a scroll of parchment tied with a black ribbon. The Protector handed the scroll to Usha.

“What is this?” she asked, regarding it curiously. “A map?”

“No, Child. It is not a map. It is a letter.”

“Is it for me? Does it”—her face brightened with hope—“does it tell me about my father? Why he left me? You promised one day you would explain, Prot.”

The Protector flushed deeply, taken aback. “It... um... does not, Child. You know the story already. What more could I add?”

“You have said he left me after my mother’s death, but you never said why. It’s because he didn’t love me, isn’t it? Because I was the cause of my mother’s death. He hated me—”

“Where did you ever get that notion, Child?” The Protector was shocked. “Your father loved you dearly. You know what happened. I’ve told you.”

Usha sighed. “Yes, Prot,” she said. All their conversations about her parentage ended like this. He refused to tell her the truth. Very well, it didn’t matter. She’d find her own truth.