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Ayre wasn’t among those who rushed to the entrance at the first sound of the gong nor was he among those who dawdled behind until the last echo of the gong settled down in the dust raised by their boots. He joined the main crowd of the treasure-hunters, as always trying to blend in so as not to stand out, which was a difficult thing to do as he was at least a head taller than anyone else — even when he stooped his shoulders and bowed his head.
As he followed the others along the tunnel, a low rumble of chatter slowly filled the air. Ayre didn’t need to strain his ears to know what they were talking about: the older treasure-hunters were grumbling about aches in their joints after crouching and digging for hours and hours until they could barely hold the tools in their bulging with veins hands, while the younger ones were making rowdy plans for the night. And then, of course, there were those who were talking about him.
Ayre thought that he had done a good enough job of blending in by adjusting his apparel according to the common fashion in these parts, but when he decided to use his superior dragon hearing in order to listen in on his fellow treasure-hunters’ conversation (he wanted to be done with this spying business as soon as possible), he was shocked to discover that quite apart from the fact that they weren’t discussing anything of secrecy or importance (that could justify his presence there) — he turned out to be the main subject of their conversation!
Despite his best efforts to look like any other young human male, his appearance had still caused quite a stir and his story about coming from a far-off village that didn’t keep in touch with the outside world wasn’t as convincing as he had hoped it would be. S, during his long daily shift down in the caves, that once belonged to his kind, looking for what humans called “treasure” without having any idea at all what it really was (he could just imagine the look of horror on their faces if they ever found out), he worked out the details of his backstory, intertwining reality with fantasy.
Ayre had studied humans from afar before finally venturing into their domain. He had adopted their fashion and swapped his long scarlet tunic for a pair of dark trousers and a sleeveless black top, but he kept his high ponytail, because he found that he couldn’t make himself get rid of his long hair. Aybo would definitely call him arrogant and vain, but he wasn’t here to pass judgment. At first Ayre wondered if he could have avoided attracting so much attention to himself if he had cut his hair short, but the more he listened, the more he was convinced that it wouldn’t have helped.
They all agreed that there was simply something different about him and that with such a pretty face and trim figure he would have better luck serving at a royal harem; apparently, it was a well-known fact that the youngest prince preferred male concubines. Ayre wondered if his magic nature and his dragon warrior training had given him a more prominent air. But what he found particularly disturbing was that some of the males here wished to commit acts of savagery against him that all seemed to include bending him over some surface.
Usually such comments caused a great burst of laughter from the younger treasure-hunters with a few words of rebuke from the older crowd, warning them not to scare Ayre away, because he turned out to be a surprisingly efficient treasure-hunter with a real nose for treasure. Ayre suspected that he might be missing something important. He had been afraid that he wouldn’t be able to understand them at all and was relieved when it turned out that their language, though not as refined, had retained many similarities with his own, even though there were many expressions and notions that were simply too human for him to comprehend.
But one thing that he found truly shocking was the existence and the constant presence of females. After all, female dragons had been extinct for as long as he could remember. But here there were a lot of human females – women – as many as males or even more. They looked quite different from males, having more curves and much larger bosoms. They wore long dresses and long hair, usually braided and decorated with headdresses of great invention. Ayre was fascinated by them and spent many hours studying them.
However, he had learned soon enough not to stare openly at them unless he wanted to be beaten up by their fathers, brothers or husbands. But he couldn’t stop watching them. They were so different from what he was used to. They were nothing like males. They fascinated him and frightened him at the same time. And then there were the little ones – the children – that usually stuck to them. They were curious creatures of constant motion and incredible lung capacity and Ayre’s eyes lit up every time he saw them run around the street, yelling and laughing and making havoc.
*
Once outside the caves, Ayre swiftly slipped through the evening crowd that filled the street and hurried towards the edge of the city in the direction of a pool of water well-screened from view by bamboo trees, where he usually washed away the dust and dirt of the cave. The others, he knew, would go home to do so, but he didn’t have a home and didn’t feel the need to acquire one.
He was a trained dragon warrior and could make himself at home even on an outcrop of a cliff. He didn’t need a soft bed or a bathtub filled with heated water or even a roof over his head. After bathing in the pool, he usually returned to the city in his evening clothes to have a bowl of rice with fish and vegetables in a local tavern that he frequented in order to keep himself sustained as well as to gather information for his brother’s mad plan.
So far he hadn’t been very successful — he discovered that humans generally didn’t talk about anything of importance — unlike dragons who never talked about anything that wasn’t important, because every conversation and action had to produce a certain result — and they certainly didn’t discuss such important matters as their kingdom’s defences over a bowl of rice.
They did love to gossip, though, especially about the royal family that resided in the capital in a palace whose walls (and every inch of them too, according to the locals) were etched with precious stones that came from the caves. Ayre knew that the current king had three children: an older son, a middle daughter, and a younger son. The older children didn’t seem to be extremely gossip-worthy, because they were barely mentioned, but the youngest son was often discussed in connection with something or other.
Apparently, he had recently involved their kingdom in a scandal with another kingdom during their failed marriage negotiations and was asked to leave before his official visit was supposed to be concluded. He was expected back home any day now. Ayre assumed that he would receive some kind of punishment, because the king was reported to be beyond furious with his latest mischief. Everyone said that he was spending more and more time at the temple, praying for his son to come to his senses.
Ayre knew that if he dared to cause a scandal between two clans, Aybo would have clipped his wings and scaled him raw. This younger prince sounded as spoiled as Khun Pring and Ayre instantly disliked him. Another piece of gossip was about his predilection for something that — much to Ayre’s surprise — was referred to as “dragon powder”. Ayre discovered that this substance (that everyone spoke about in hushed whispers) was sold on the black market for so much gold that only very rich people could afford to purchase it and that it made the person who consumed it see wondrous visions.
Curious about its name more than about its properties, Ayre wanted to learn more about “dragon powder”, but, when he started asking about it, the treasure-hunters around him went very quiet before one of them – after exchanging a meaningful look with the others – took him aside and told him that “dragon powder” wasn’t something that he wanted to try, because it caused hallucinations so powerful that those who took it regularly fell completely under its spell. He also explained that the reason it was called “dragon powder” was because it was actually forbidden. That’s how Ayre discovered that in human language the word “dragon” was often associated with “danger”.
His father’s magic had worked. It had erased the fact of their existence from human memory but left behind a strong sense of their presence. The human mind had done the rest. The dragons were still very much present in their legends and beliefs but purely as mythical creatures of great power and strength.
Gradually, the human brain came up with their own explanation for an enormous dragon-shaped mountain range and caves filled with treasure, forming wondrous fairy-tales and legends about a formidable dragon race that blessed their land with protection and prosperity. Dragon-like shapes were popular motives for decoration.
Ayre was struck by how realistic those impressions looked and wondered why his father hadn’t completely erased them from human memory. Was it part of the magic that he used? Or did it not work properly for some reason? Or, perhaps, his father had deliberately decided to integrate their race into human culture -- benevolent yet terrible -- in order to keep humans in constant fear of them?
Ayre didn’t know the answer to that question and his father would never be able to give him one. He was sure that Ayzu would know the right answer, though. Ayzu knew everything. His favourite brother loved reading and learning and everyone agreed that he knew more than any dragon of his age or designation had any right to know. Ayre keenly felt Ayzu’s absence. He missed his presence, his advice, his guidance.
Without Ayzu telling him what to do and what not to do, Ayre had to make his own decisions and there wasn’t anyone to tell him whether they were good or bad. But surely a royal palace was a much more suitable place to look for secret information than an underground cave? Ayre had been hearing so much about the royal family and their royal palace that he was curious to see it all with his own eyes and to compare it with his own dwelling back home.
Ayre’s thoughts had suddenly come to an abrupt hall. His skin was on fire. That much was obvious. The question was why it was burning when he was standing up to his waist in water, his body covered in so many droplets. Ayre brushed his long dark hair out of his eyes, pulled it into a high ponytail, and turned his head to the side just enough to confirm that someone was watching him from the muddy bank.
A young man was standing among the bamboo trees, his dark eyes boring into Ayre’s back. He had one of those really sweet faces that instantly charmed, but his eyes were like two bottomless pits of sin. Ayre quickly turned away and continued to wash himself, pretending that he wasn’t bothered by the company of a total stranger or the scorching heat of his gaze.
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