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Few went by Kirani, and declaring myself to be a Ramons would draw the attention of every dragon in the city if I judged by how people reacted to my parents.
“Librarian, do let me know personally if you have any further questions about Kinsley being in the library.”
The woman had the sense to nod, promised she would, and fled before he could give her a piece of his mind.
Enzo huffed, the sound similar to my father when he let go of something irritating him. “Your choice of library is excellent for your goals. Some of those pesky copper dragons forget art and knowledge should be things accessible by all. I’ll give you my number. If you have any trouble doing research for your test, send me a text. I’ll look into the matter personally.”
Considering what I knew about black dragons, if the library earned his ire, every secret in the place would be exposed. Of course, I had no idea what sort of secrets a library might have, but part of me wanted to poke my nose around and find out. “Thank you. I’ll do that.”
Without much in the way of fanfare, the black dragon got my number and sent me a text, which allowed me to add him to my contacts with minimal fuss. Once satisfied, he nodded. “I will text you with the confirmation of your sponsorship. Good luck with your research.”
“Have a good day, Mr. Acri.”
He left, and puzzled over the whole thing, I decided to do as I’d told him I would, starting with reading the physical newspapers. I asked Garnet and Tourmaline to stay at the table and guard her crystal, my fancy new camera, and my bag.
The newspaper storage was only a few feet away, and I had no doubt I could intervene if anyone got any ideas. While the librarian kept an eye on me, I gathered the latest papers, took them back to the table, and settled in to read. Garnet and Tourmaline cuddled together near the smoky quartz and napped to pass the time.
Using my tablet as a counter reference, I determined that while most of the articles were the same, not everything that was put into the paper version made it to the internet. The physical paper boasted a more robust financials section, longer and more pieces of local political pieces, and expanded editorial commentary on the locals of Dragon Heights.
Unlike online, there was an entire two page article on my parents’ presence in the city. Most of the pictures featured only them, but I’d been photographed as well. In the shot, I regarded my mother with obvious disgust. My father looked somewhere else, sulking over something.
I liked the photograph enough I’d find a copy of the paper and buy it on the way home. The article itself covered how they had come to the city to confirm if I, some unknown vagrant, was worthy of having Garnet. A quarter of the article introduced readers to the carbunclo, where she’d come from, and how I’d acquired her. The newspaper invited opinions on my ownership of the kitten along with our status as living in the Gray Ward.
That might cause me problems.
I took the time to make certain the pages were in their proper order before folding it and returning it to the rack.
Aware of trouble lurking on the horizon, I made the decision to go hunt a copy of every newspaper available for the day, take them all home, and resume my search in a private place, one where dragons might leave me alone.
* * *
Sunday, April 26, 2167
The Ruby Ward
Dragon Heights, Wyoming
To keep my promise to Tourmaline, I ventured to the largest public park in Dragon Heights, a place reputed to have the highest variety of flowers anywhere in the city. Pleased I’d brought my camera, I went to work photographing every blossom I could. Taking pictures of Tourmaline proved to be a challenge, but unlike natural birds, I had an easier time anticipating what he would do. He always kept me in sight, and he took his time drinking from each flower to catch his attention, confident I’d keep a watch over him.
A few other hummingbirds made use of the park, but for the most part, Tourmaline ignored them. A dull green and cream hummingbird, a female as far as I could tell, made a few attempts to introduce herself. Upon failure, she came to see what I was about.
Judging from the ragged state of her feathers, the bird had suffered through a bad run of luck. I held out my finger, and after darting around, she landed. Aware hummingbirds needed a lot of nectar to thrive, I carried her to some of the nearby flowers the birds seemed to like and held her near the bloom. She investigated, ruffling her feathers and settling her wings against her back.
Once she lost interest, I eased away from the plant, took my time walking to the nearest bench, and sat down, turned sideways due to my backpack. Careful to keep from dislodging her, I wiggled a shoulder out from under the strap, coaxed her into moving to my other hand, and repeated the process so I could access Tourmaline’s nectar dish, water, and powder. Working with one hand challenged me, but within a few minutes, I managed to make a batch, encouraging her to stand on the dish’s ledge and drink.
She did.
I placed the dish onto the flattest part of the bench, hoping the little bird would be all right, and took a picture of her with my camera and my phone. The shot I got on the phone went to Cedrick along with a question about what hummingbird species, what was wrong with her feathers, and if I needed to bring her in to be cared for.
My phone informed me Cedrick texted me with a reply, and after a few moments, he informed me that he couldn’t tell me her species due to her condition, that she could likely use some care, and to check if there were any odd growths on her beak.
Sure enough, there were some lumps on her beak, and careful to keep from startling the bird, I took a picture of her.
Cedrick replied with a request to bring her in, and if my bird had interacted with her, he would need a treatment as well in case the fungus had transferred. His next text saddened me, as he thought she would lose the ability to drink at all if it progressed much further.
Poor bird.
At his recommendation, I got out one of my clean microfiber cloths for my camera, one that hadn’t been treated with anything, waited until the little bird finished drinking, and caught her with one hand before swaddling her in the cloth to keep her from escaping.