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“Oh, that’s a good question. Over half the force are either yellow dragons or dragon-kin. They live to serve, and that’s the sort of garden they like growing. They might help us. It’s the other colors we’re having problems with. He’s started with his fellow yellows, but he’s starting to bring others to us.” She wrinkled her nose, and after a few minutes, she huffed and puffed. While she made a good attempt at blowing the place down, my apartment remained intact. “I’ll look into it. I’ve two empty apartments right now, and two that are going to be empty soon. The tenants are leaving for another city.”
As I’d thought about leaving Dragon Heights a few times when the going had gotten tough, I understood. Cecilia wanted some certainty. People like me brought nothing but uncertainty with them.
Making use of me might make things a little more balanced for everybody.
Choosing to accept even more responsibility would bite me in the ass later, but I would make the most of the opportunity, not just for myself, but for others as well.
“Leave me the keys for the empty units, and I’ll have a look and see what I can do, give you a sheet with what needs to be done, and do the repairs I can. I can’t help you with electrical problems,” I warned her. “But I can do the basic plumbing, like installing new faucets and checking over most things.”
“Bring the list over when you can, and I’ll drop the keys off in an hour or two. Just be careful, Kinsley. There’s something going on here, and I don’t know what.”
I wondered if the woman had any idea how right she was—or how much trouble it would cause us.
* * *
Wednesday, April 22, 2167
The Gray Ward
Dragon Heights, Wyoming
After my morning run to the grocery store, which had involved acquiring a few new staples for Garnet to try, non-perishable items for my pantry, and a few hundred photos to investigate later, I headed over to the apartments needing some loving care from me.
Cecilia hadn’t been joking about the requirement for maintenance. When I thought of something being trashed, I envisioned clutter, scuffed paint, and a little chaos. The holes in the wall would test my skills and require more than a little drywall to repair. One sink had seen better days, and a test revealed the little that remained of the bowl did still work as long as the faucet wasn’t turned completely on. One bathtub had been shattered, and I wondered what sort of object had been smashed into the poor thing.
As promised, I made a list of the damage I could repair, the parts and supplies I would need, and a suggestion to offer discounts from the rent, free groceries, or something else in exchange for manual labor. With some incentive, others in my position might shine—or at least preserve the matron’s property a little better.
Garnet stuck close to my side, and she whined at the evidence of damage, requiring me to explain some of the harsher realities of the world. The kitten handled the burden better than I thought—and it took only a few minutes to realize why the titanium dragons hadn’t been a good fit for her.
She wanted to help.
The titanium dragons usually hired the help.
As I wanted to cultivate a kind spirit, I spent an extra hour in the last apartment I checked, teaching Garnet how she could help clean up. I taught her about the dangers of glass shards and rusting metal, and I showed her how she might be able to assist me with some basic chores, including providing a bright white light so I could view shadowy places with ease.
Once I delivered the lists to Cecilia and returned home, I rewarded Garnet with some milk and a treat of hot sauce served on a scrap of hard salami, something I’d purchased for her to try.
She fell upon it with the same enthusiasm she showed for mashed potatoes, much to my amusement.
With the kitten cared for, I decided to make use of my best resource for good information regarding dragons: my parents.
The situation with the pilgrims ate away at me, and until I learned more—or found a lead of substance—all I could do was poke my nose where it didn’t belong. If I did put myself in harm’s way, I wanted to do so with my eyes wide open.
What would happen if I showed up at one of the shrines? What sort of sacrifice was expected of me?
My father would know, and my mother would encourage recklessness because she appreciated chaos.
I considered my options, dredged my father’s cell out of the cavernous depths of my memory, and added the number to my contact list before giving him a call.
“I could have sworn I’d just talked to you on Monday,” my father answered. “It’s only Wednesday. I was expecting a far longer wait than that. You’re about to cause me trouble. Explain yourself this instant, young lady.”
I laughed at the unerring accuracy of my father’s suspicions. “I wanted to ask about the pilgrims. I don’t want to just show up at the shrines without an idea of the trouble I might get into. Is Mom around?”
“She is not. She’s handling some business, and she felt if I attended the business, I might decide to opt in violence. Someone has decided they are an idiot and wished to push your mother’s buttons.”
“A dragon?” I guessed.
“You would be right. As I didn’t want to get in the line of literal fire, I decided to stay out of it. Once she adjusts the attitudes of the idiot who attempted to infiltrate our turf, she’ll be home. Since she only left twenty minutes ago, she’ll be a while. As for your pilgrim problem, there are a lot of factors. If you decide to sprout your scales and wings in a controlled fashion, the process is simplistic on the surface. The shrines are seals of power. The color in charge of each seal has imbued their energy into it. Someone with the appropriate lineage can awaken their color’s magic being in the presence of the seal.”