Джон Адамс - The Best American Science Fiction and Fantasy 2019

That’s the story. That’s what everyone knows.

The storyteller could not make it this evening. He sent me in his stead. Why, because I am one whose task it is to speak for the dead. Perhaps you’ve heard of others like me? In different places I am called by different names: shaman, onmyouji, bokor, freak. Since the dead are in no short supply, I know many tales. But if you do not like my tales, just say so. I am sure to know some means or another of keeping you entertained.

So.

King Paramenter of Sosun, wishing to dispel rumors of his impotence, inquired privately of his wizard as to how he might fortify his virility. “I have seen mention of dragons in lore on the subject,” the wizard told him. “In specific, eating the heart of a male dragon should accord you some of that creature’s proclivity.” As it was rumored that male dragons could seed as many as a dozen females in a day, Paramenter immediately sent scouts forth from his palace in search of one.

His search was not immediately successful. In part due to the rumors, male dragons were in scarce supply; the species was on the brink of extinction. When Paramenter finally did hear of a dragon in the far-off mountains, he hastened to the place with a band of his elite warriors. Together they breached the dragon’s den and slew the beast. But afterward they found that the dragon was female—a mother on a nest, her body cooling around a single egg. In frustration the king broke open the egg in the hope that its occupant might be male, but the creature’s sex was indeterminate at that stage.

“I shall make do with the mother,” he decided at last. “After all, women are creatures of great wantonness when not guarded closely by family and husbands. And perhaps the heart of a female who has borne young can help me get a son.” So he had his men carve out the mother dragon’s heart, and right then and there he ate it.

Straightaway Paramenter began to feel some positive effect. With his men he set off for home, riding through day and night to reach his palace. There he called for his wife and concubines to be made ready, whereafter he spent the next few days in enthusiastic carousing.

Sometime later came the joyous news: the queen and all five concubines were with child. King Paramenter was so overjoyed that he threw lavish parties and cut taxes so that the whole kingdom might celebrate with him. But as time passed his mood changed, for the dragonish vigor seemed to be fading from his body. Eventually, as before he’d eaten the dragon’s heart, he found himself unable to perform at all.

In a panic he consulted his wizard once more. The wizard said, “I do not understand it either, my lord. The lore was very specific; the male dragon’s heart should have bestowed that creature’s purpose on you.”

“It was not a male dragon,” Paramenter replied impatiently. “I could not find a male, so I ate the heart of a nesting mother. It served well enough, at least until lately.”

The wizard’s eyes widened. “Then you have taken into yourself the purpose of a mother dragon,” he said. “Such a creature has no need of desire beyond the children it gains her, and you now have six on the way.”

“And what does that mean? I am a king, not a mother! Will I grow breasts now and nurse, and giggle over bonnets and toys?”

“Female dragons do not nurse,” said the wizard. “They do not dote on their young, who hunt and kill from birth, though those young live to carry out their mother’s purpose. To be honest, my lord, I do not know what will happen now.”

To this Paramenter could say nothing, though he had the wizard beaten in a fit of pique. He settled in to await the birth of his children, and in the meantime sent his scouts forth again to find a male dragon. But before they could return, one by one the queen and concubines went into labor. One by one each gave birth to a beautiful, healthy baby girl. And one by one the ladies died in the birthing.

The entire kingdom caught its breath at the news. Some of Sosun’s citizens began to speak of curses and offenses against nature, but Paramenter ordered the executions of anyone caught saying so, and the talk quickly subsided.

At least, Paramenter consoled himself, there was no further talk of his infirmity. The six baby girls were fine and healthy to a one, charming their nurses and anyone else who saw them. And while none were so blessed as to be male, all six grew up clever, charming, and lovely as well. “But of course,” said Paramenter to his advisers when they remarked upon it. “Naturally any daughters of my blood would be far superior to an average woman.”

An example of the latter was Paramenter’s new wife, whom he had married once the requisite mourning period for his old wife had passed. Though the daughter of a neighboring king, Paramenter’s new wife was a nervous little thing, inclined to flights of fancy. Paramenter discovered this during one of his visits to her bedroom, which he undertook every so often in order to keep up appearances. He had encouraged her to get to know his daughters, who were still young enough at that point that they might view her as their mother. “I would rather not,” she said after much hemming and hawing. “Have you ever watched those girls closely? They stand together sometimes, gazing at a spot on the floor or some sight beyond their window, and then they smile. Always together, always the same smile.”

“They are sisters,” said Paramenter in surprise.

“It is more than that,” she insisted, but could articulate nothing more.

His curiosity piqued, Paramenter went down to the nursery the following night to observe the girls. Ten years old now, they fawned over him as they always did, exclaiming in delight at his visit. Paramenter sat down on the highbacked chair that they brought over, and drank the tea that one of them prepared, and let them put up his feet and brush his hair and pamper him as befitted a man. “I cannot see why she fears you,” he murmured to himself, feeling amusement and pride as he watched his six jewels bustle about. “I shouldn’t have listened to her at all.”

A small voice said, “Who, Father?” This came from his youngest daughter, a tiny porcelain doll of a girl.

“Your mother,” he said, for he insisted that they address his wife as such. He did not elaborate on his words, because he did not want to trouble the girls. But they looked at each other and giggled, almost as one.

“She fears us?” asked his eldest daughter, a delicate creature with obsidian curls and a demeanor that was already as regal as a queen’s. “How strange. Perhaps she is jealous.”

“Jealous?” Paramenter had heard of such things—women resenting their mothers or sisters, undermining their own daughters. “But what has she to be jealous of? She’s beautiful enough, or I wouldn’t have married her.”

“Her place is uncertain,” said his eldest daughter. She leaned forward to refresh his tea. “I have heard the palace maids saying that until she bears a child, you can put her aside.”

“Then she must be terrified, the poor thing,” said his second daughter. Like her concubine mother, this one was caramel-colored and lithe-limbed, with a dancer’s natural grace. “You should help her, Father. Give her a child.” She stood on her toes to light his pipe for him.

Paramenter nodded thanks, using the gesture to cover his unease. “Well, er, that might be difficult,” he said. “I’m afraid I don’t fancy her much; she’s such a scrawny fearful thing. Not my taste in women at all.”

“That’s easy enough to deal with,” said Third Daughter, a sweet little thing with honey-colored curls. She smiled at him from his feet, where she was paring his toenails. “Give her to your guards for a month or two.”