She’s waiting for him when he slouches out into the dark front courtyard, full of cheb and sweet tea and questions he’s not sure he wants to ask.
She’s crouched catlike, facing the door, and the big brown guy is nowhere to be seen. N’Doch can’t decide whether he feels like he’s on some kind of weird first date or like he’s facing the Mother Superior of his Catholic grammar school. He’s never been alone with her before. The dragon, Water—he forces himself to think of her by name—is both winsome and officious, both animal and somehow more than human, and the real problem is not so much that he doesn’t want to relate to her but that he doesn’t know how.
He stares at her and she stares back. He wonders if he should think of her as a woman, if that would be a healthy thing to do, or for that matter, if it’s what she would want. He’s had friendships with women before, though not many, a few older women musicians he wanted to learn from. Mostly, sex got in the way. Either he wanted it, or they did, or both did but not for long. And then, the relationship was blown. It’s okay with the girl—she’s way too young and anyway, she wants to be his sister. With her, he’s already put sex from his mind. But Water is a grown-up, and definitely feminine. So what kind of relationship are they supposed to have? He tries to imagine having sex with a dragon. Pretty kinky all right.
He’s still staring at her when she begins to sing to him. Not out loud, and he’s glad of that. Any song this hot would alert Baraga’s sensors immediately. The beauty of it lays him out. Even the raucous birds have quieted. In the back of his mind, the bizarre thought is born that it’s the dragon who should be the big pop star. And he could make it happen, if he could just get her into a studio. . . .
But in his heart, he knows this is music for his ears only. His music. Someday he might remember it and write it down, polish it up for public consumption. But for now, he’ll just listen.
When she’s done, she’s still staring at him. He feels awkward, reading expectancy in her bottomless gaze. He wonders why she isn’t talking to him, then realizes he’s the one who’s withholding. He hasn’t allowed that inner letting-go that lets her voice into his head alongside the music that seems to invade willy-nilly with a power all its own. He decides he’ll wait a while yet, and sing her some of his songs. It’ll be like foreplay.
He starts with a lightweight piece, about a man trying to discover if his wife’s been unfaithful. It’s his usual opener when he plays in the market square. The shoppers don’t want anything too serious while they’re busy bargaining. It’s better when he has his ’board hooked up, though he’s done it plenty of times without, since he can’t always afford to recharge his battery pack. But he likes the melody even without. It has a certain plaintive comic sweetness to it, especially the chorus, which he’s really getting into, singing away with his eyes closed, when he happens to steal a glance at the dragon to see how she’s taking it. He nearly stops breathing.
There, right in front of him in his grandpapa’s courtyard, in place of a silver-blue dragon, is a pathetic crumb of a man, big-nosed, stooped, a little pudgy, a lovesick nerd casting his droopy eyes about in helpless suspicion exactly as N’Doch had imagined the guy when he wrote the song. He’s speechless. He doesn’t understand what’s happening.
The image dissolves, or rather, re-forms before his very eyes into a silver-blue dragon. The process is not instantaneous and watching it makes him definitely queasy. When she’s fully herself and staring at him again, he’s still speechless, and without a defense left in the world.
—Did I get it right?
It’s all he can do to nod.
—Let’s do another one.
Her voice in his head is light and brisk, oddly familiar. Not unlike his own, but with an added undertone of Well-it’s-about-time-we-got-down-to-business.
“Umm,” says N’Doch, mostly to see if he can still produce a human sound.
—It feels pretty good. Hardly tires me out at all.
“Umm,” he says again, then clears his throat. “Feels good?”
—You don’t have to speak to me out loud, you know.
“Maybe not, but you know, I’m sort of used to it, okay?”
—Certainly. For now.
“Yeah. For now. So, um, then you’re not used to doing this, is that what you’re telling me?”
—How could I be, without you around to sing the songs?
N’Doch is rendered inarticulate again.
—I knew it from the moment I first breathed air. I’ve been trying to explain it to you, but you just wouldn’t listen.
“Ummm. Oh.” He knows now why her voice is familiar. She sounds a lot like his mother used to, before she gave up on him. “Sorry.”
—Oh, I understand how hard it is at first. It’s hard for me, too, figuring all this out by myself. My brother’s not much help, you know.
“Your brother?” Oh, the big guy. “Really? Why not?”
—Well, he’s very gifted, of course, and he has a very great heart. But he’s still so young and he’s like, hopelessly old-fashioned.
Deep inside N’Doch, absurdity finally brims over. He starts to laugh. First it’s a chuckle, then a snort, then an outright belly laugh. It’s what he’s been needing and he lets it build and peak and still go on, like he’s gonna laugh his guts out and with them, all the confusion and resentment and tension he’s choked back since he first felt the dragon’s hold on him. When he’s finally done, he’s breathless and gasping.
—It’s not a joke, you know.
This starts him laughing again, but he’s got it under control, barely. “You really are my dragon, aren’t you!”
—What else did you think?
“I mean, the way you talk and all.”
“Nothing. Hey, girl, nothing at all. And you know, you are so right. I should have listened to you earlier. Things woulda made a lot more sense!”
Now Water is wearing particularly self-satisfied expression but N’Doch is too relieved to care, now that he sees he’s not going to have to talk the old-time talk and walk the old-time walk in order to get along with this critter he’s been tied to by no will of his own.
“So. This shape-shifting thing. You wanna try it again?”
—You bet. I need the practice.
He goes with a different song this time, one of his favorites, about a beautiful woman he met once, walking along the beach. She’d just fallen crazy in love with some guy or other, and that’s what made her so beautiful, passion that consumed her so much, she could spend an hour with a total stranger, telling him all about it. It was like living poetry. Totally unself-conscious. N’Doch had envied her. He wanted to be in love like that, still does and—as he watches the dragon’s animal form slip and change and then reshape itself into the exact image of the woman on the beach—he thinks maybe he is. It won’t be like being in love with a real woman, he knows that, but at least he has a clue about what to do with all these crazy feelings he’d been having. He wonders if this is how the girl feels about her dragon.
He lets the song finish, trailing out the last note. He can’t help but sing it seductively. The beach woman smiles at him and melts away.
N’Doch grunts and averts his eyes. “I think I’m not gonna watch while you’re doing that.”
—Why?
“It’s . . . well, it’s kinda gross when you’re in between one thing and another, you know? Can’t you do it, like, faster?”
—NO. That is, not yet. I’ll . . . work on it.
She’s a lot less brisk than usual and he sees he’s hurt her feelings. “Hey, look, it’s awesome that you can do it. It’s mega, you know?”
—But you don’t like process, only results.
“No, I . . . hmmm.” N’Doch decides he’ll have to ponder that one for a while. “How long can you hold a shape? Only while I’m singing?”
“And you don’t get worn out or anything?”
—Not so far.
N’Doch nods to himself. Once again, the old codger is proved right. But he’s not about to point that out to anyone. “So, tell me. Why do you think you’re here?”
—Something terrible is happening.
“Where? How? O God, o God!” He laughs, ’cause her tone is suddenly so dire and serious. Then it begins to work on him a little. “Wait, you mean, to me? You’re here, like, to protect me?”
—No, jerk. Something much bigger than that. Something much more terrible, if you can imagine such a thing.
He answers her sarcasm with a snort. “Girl, something terrible is always happening. Bombs, wars, plagues, famine, you name it. How much more terrible can it get? And so what? Ain’t nothing you can do about it, ’cept move quick and avoid it when you can.”
—No. There is always something you can do. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.
To N’Doch, this is pure blind faith, kind of like religion and just as stupid. Which means there is no point him arguing it with her. But he can’t let her off too easy. “So you’re here to save the world, huh? If you ask me, which you didn’t, you’re way too late. But I guess you’re not likely to be talked out of trying.”
—No.
She looks at him, he thinks, a bit sadly, and despite his bravado, he feels a definite pang, a sense he’s let her down.
“Hey, listen, you’re into that, fine. I got nothing better to do.” He’s trying to lighten things up a little. “I don’t know too much about saving the world, but I can take care of the little things. Like, I got it all figured out how we’re gonna get you into the City.”