Page 5 of Dragon Gods

She spit on the ground in front of him as she slowed her steps and came to a stop.

“I don’t claim to be innocent; I know you saw my brand. I don’t fight for my own sake, though. I fight for every single Dragonborn who’s died for the crime of being hungry or scared or simply wanting to hold on to their history.”

She saw his silver eyes go wide and his face stretched into a smile that looked almost maniacal.

“You’ve all but admitted to resistance ties and actions against the king. Such a sharp tongue for someone with such dull wits.”

He stepped toward her. They were only a few inches apart now, and she could feel the heat of his body. She had to bend her neck back to look him in the eyes, regarding the triumph that danced there. Her tongue darted out, practically tasting his satisfaction as she wet her lips, and his eyes flickered down to trace the movement.

“With that brand and you admitting to resistance ties, I can have you executed on the next new moons. But,” he paused, eyes tracing across her face. Her smile faltered at the hunger she saw there. Not for her, but for somethingmore. “If you give me information on the resistance base, just a location or a few names, I’ll make sure you get sent to the farms.”

She sneered, refusing to back away from him. “So you offer me a clean, fast death or a slow one enslaved to your king?”

“I’ll make your death as comfortable as you please if you give me the resistance base’s location.”

She smiled.

She heard the quiet twang of a bowstring somewhere to the left of them, and she watched the look of triumph melt from his face.

He flushed so pretty when he was scared.

“Better yet,” she said, “I’ll take you there personally.”

She leaned closer until her lips barely brushed against his ear, sending a shiver through him that made her feel all the more powerful. “You should have let me go.”

SOFIA

AGE 7

When the outer wall was first built by the King Jorgan, it was an act of protection. The kingdom had been plagued by violence from the outside, the remnants of the savage tribes that refused to bow to true ruler of Wueco. It wasn’t until nearly two centuries later that the wall would come to serve a new function: to protect the loyal civilians of Suvi from the violent Dragonborn both outside and inside the wall. This separation from their more savage ancestors is what allows for the taming and education of the Dragonborn. This author would argue that this firm segregation is not just helpful, but necessary if we wish to continue the assimilation of the Dragonborn into natural society.

-Lird W. Viona, Assimilation or Elimination: A Philosophical Debate

In less than a sun cycle, Sofia would be too big for this work. Another smaller girl would be sent through the narrow tunnel of the latrine to ensure it was cleared out properly and Sofia would be happily standing on the outside, yelling at her to hurry up, as if the task were the same burden to them both.

As it was, Liza’s raspy voice echoed through the stone tunnel, her drawl of annoyance clear. “Are you done yet?”

The sound of it made Sofia’s entire body tense, but she bit her tongue. Yelling back only ever made things worse. She kept scrubbing as fast as she could, focusing on the movement of the task instead of the fetid smell in the small space. When she had first been given this duty, she had thought to breathe through her mouth and avoid the smell altogether. But she quickly learned that she could taste the air, and vomiting up her meager breakfast only ended in more work for herself.

“I have other jobs to do and the smell is starting to get to me,” Liza said, voice sounding distant. “I’m going to leave you soon if you don’t say something.”

Sofia gave a last scrub, scooping the last of the feces and waste into the small bucket before tugging at the rope around her waist. She maneuvered backward as best she could before Liza started pulling at the rope, helping her slip through the tight space with only a small scrape against her elbow. Last cycle she had barely needed the help to crawl out, but now she could barely make it out without the consistent tugging of the rope. She hadn’t gotten any rounder over the cycle, but as her mother always pointed out when she was trying to dress her in the morning, she was all elbows and knees now.

Perhaps if she managed to steal enough food over the next few blinks, she’d ensure getting pulled off latrine duty a bit earlier.

“Gods, you smell foul.” They were the first words Liza said as Sofia slipped from the tunnel, the sun blinding her for a moment. When Sofia had first started working with the girl she’d talked back, at one point noting that Liza’s nose always looked like she’d smelled something foul. But the girl had gone running back to the head housekeeper and Sofia had been the one whipped with a switch five times. She’d quickly learned there was no use in arguing with Liza. Ms. Garcia might claim not to play favorites, but it was clear she had a soft spot for the girl with her pale skin. Nothing like Sofia’s own dark complexion that Liza constantly pointed out blended perfectly with the feces she cleaned out daily.

It was clear that, while Liza had been born a Dragonborn the same as Sofia, she had ancestors from the northern lands beyond the sea. It was a mark of privilege in its own right, as if the Falais or Terdun being willing to have relations with a Dragonborn made them inherently better than their peers. And Liza could have even passed as a Dereyan if her token wasn’t requested.

Not even bothering to help untie Sofia or dump out the bucket, Liza gave a wave of her hand before turning and stomping away.

“Thanks,” Sofia said under her breath.

“She’s nice,” the boy waiting by the cart said with a twist of his lips. He was only a cycle or two older than Sofia, perhaps ten at most. She’d only seen him a few times and she was unsure if he was a temporary replacement for Simon or a new trainee. Either way, she didn’t care to make friends in the manor. She only shrugged as she finished untying herself and cleaned away the last of the latrine’s waste.

* * *

As she walked backto the servants’ entrance, she could do nothing for the shivers racking her body beneath her sodden clothes. She had cleaned herself off in the canal behind the house, knowing she wouldn’t be let in to pick up her wages or shawl if she was still dirty. Yet now, she was dirty and wet, and the setting sun was blind to her suffering. It was still the rainy season, but the air held the promise of the cold season to come.

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