Percy hesitated in the arched entryway, peering around the cavernous chamber which opened before them, and then actually took a step back, sidling partly behind Pheneraxa.
“It’s okay,” Pheneraxa assured her. “If she didn’t want people to enter, believe me, it wouldn’t be possible. Just show some respect and courtesy and it’ll be fine, she’s not like my mother. Izayaroa,” she added, raising her voice so that it echoed across the great lair in front of them, “may we come in?”
“Of course.”
The dragon in residence was all the way down at the other end of her chamber, and currently in her smaller form, which made her look tiny at that distance. Her voice, however, projected clearly to them, in a manner that might have been augmented by magic, but could just be the craft of a skilled public speaker taking advantage of Timekeeper acoustics.
Pheneraxa gently took Percy’s hand in one claw, giving her an encouraging smile, and tugged her forward.
“Come on, now. You’ve already talked with her; you know she’s…well, reasonable. And not unkind.”
“I know,” Percy mumbled. “But…this is her home. Living here in Kaln’s chamber is one thing. Walking into a dragon’s own lair… I’m still Valefolk, Pheneraxa.”
“Then maybe dragons and Valefolk can start having a different kind of relationship. Who better to begin it than a princess?”
Percy did not look particularly reassured by that. Still, she peered around in as much interest as trepidation as they made the long walk down the chamber’s central aisle, taking in the huge Rhiva decorations, the displays of monuments and historical artifacts—and, in their own designated alcoves along the back half of the chamber, the treasure piles.
“Welcome, Percy,” Izayaroa greeted them with a warm smile as they stepped into the alcove where she stood, “and Pheneraxa. Please, come in. Make yourself comfortable.”
“Thank you,” Percy said automatically, hesitating at the sight of the seats: a pair of Rhiva-style backless cushioned benches positioned facing each other, each half-buried in a pile of pillows strewn about as if guests were expected to lounge on the floor or on the settees as they liked. The princess stared blankly at this arrangement until Pheneraxa perched herself on one of the couches, gently pulling her down alongside.
“Guests are a pleasure I do not often have,” Izayaroa said, seating herself opposite them. “And never here. My earnest congratulations on managing to pry Pheneraxa out of the library, Percy. Please, help yourself!”
With a wave of one claw, she caused a tray of candied nuts, spice-rolled fruits, and braided twists of sugared frybread to appear upon the low table set between the couches off to one side, along with a steaming pot of fragrant herbal tea and several cups.
“Oh!” Percy perked up in interest. “That’s fascinating! Now did you bring that from somewhere else, or conjure it?”
“Both methods fall within the domain of conjuration,” Izayaroa explained with a smile while picking up the teapot and a cup. “These are done by the latter method—crafted from pure magic, as it were.”
“Ah, of course. Our Court Mage back home is a conjurer by specialization. It’s funny, she never mentioned the difference…”
“Taxonomy of anything tends to describe how people interact with things more than their essential nature,” said Izayaroa, pouring tea. “Current magical practice describes any craft which causes the appearance of physical materials, whether created or brought from another location, as conjuration. As opposed to teleportation, which specializes in the transportation of living things via magic. Or summoning, which brings living and in some cases incorporeal beings from other planes of existence, or from other physical states. That this is the convention is happenstance—I’m sure you can see how each nuance might be categorized differently. There are some who argue they should be.”
“But…wait.” Percy frowned suddenly. “If you can just…make food from nothing, wasn’t that entire big project with the trading guild and the portal mage kind of…pointless?”
“Alas, conjured food is only good for snacks or emergencies,” Izayaroa replied. “It lacks…let’s call it nutritional value. Any magically inclined hostess should have spells to conjure a few tasty treats, but I wouldn’t try to keep a mortal on conjured food—they’ll develop scurvy, and eventually can actually starve with a full stomach. The reasons are rather interesting, if you are already interested in magical practice. If your Court Mage never found reason to go into it, I gather you are not?”
“Cora definitely never explained any of that,” said Percy, picking up a candied cashew. Pheneraxa had already stuffed an entire bread twist into her face and was chomping with an ecstatic expression, holding a slice of cinnamon-coated date in anticipation of having room in her mouth. “It doesn’t have much to do with what I like, though. She doesn’t really like…questions. Or talking to people, I don’t think. In fact, I hesitate to say so for sure because I’m often somewhat confused by people’s motives, but over the years I have gained the strong impression she doesn’t like me in particular.”
“That follows,” Izayaroa said mildly, ignoring Pheneraxa’s sudden scowl. “I find you to be a fascinating young woman, Percy, but I am in general fascinated by—and fond of, within reason—people. Most of the very traits that make someone interesting to talk to are purely exasperating to a misanthrope. Traits in general are exasperating to misanthropes; it does not pay to take their umbrage personally.”
“That makes sense,” Percy agreed, nodding, then turned to Pheneraxa. “Oh! Is that how you get along with Shadrach?”
“It…helps,” the young dragon admitted. “I can’t really explain why Shadrach likes me, or why he feels the need to pretend not to. Honestly, I started talking to him because at first he didn’t dare teleport me to the bottom of the ocean no matter how much he wanted to, and that was very entertaining.”
“That is called bullying, Pheneraxa,” Izayaroa said pleasantly, “and it is a leading cause of dragons getting themselves slain. For every dangerous mortal like Shadrach there are five who are equally dangerous and lack his forethought or regard for consequences. Do as you will, but I gently request a modicum of regard for those of us who will have to weather Emeralaphine’s tantrums if you get murdered.”
“I don’t think I would survive that,” Percy said, turning a reproachful frown on Phenaraxa. “More importantly, I would be devastated if you got murdered. Please exercise some care.”
Pheneraxa gaped at each of them in turn, visibly struggling to form a cogent response.
“I have been meaning to inquire, Percy,” Izayaroa continued as serenely as ever as she handed Percy a teacup, “since you seem likely to be more recently informed than I: are you aware of any development toward establishing regular contact with the inhabitants of Nimix Two?”
Percy suddenly sat up straighter, shaking her head negatively even as her expression brightened. “Oh, goodness, no, that would mean someone had surpassed the light speed constraint, which would turn all of magic and the natural sciences on their heads! You are aware of the light speed—what am I saying, of course you must be, that’s been known to science for centuries. Well, since teleportation moves at close to the speed of light, it only seems instantaneous here on our world, and for all practical purposes is, but at greater distances the length of travel becomes impracticable. Nimix is eighteen light years away, and no one to my knowledge has figured out how to build and cast a teleportation spell that will hold together in transit for anywhere close to that long. Which is such a shame, because the math is eminently doable—it’s complicated, but there’s no reason it should be impossible to calculate the trajectory, and that would be the greatest achievement! But currently, we can’t even put a scrying beacon on Gallimarde, which is only five light years away; getting people almost four times that distance is far beyond out of the question as things stand. And even aside from that, there’s the problem that any information the most advanced diviners are able to get from Nimix is also eighteen years old, and at that distance scrying is extremely vague and there’s no telescope that can see details physically, enchanted or otherwise, so anyone who managed to get there would be going in effectively blind.”
Percy paused for breath, and then her expression changed again, eyebrows drawing together in sudden consternation. Pheneraxa, who was watching her fixedly with an expression that was hard to read due to her bulging mouthful that she had apparently forgotten to chew, also frowned in response.
Izayaroa sipped her tea. “A pity. That was the state of things when last I looked into it, but it has been some time and I dared to wonder. But as you point out, progress on that front is bumping up against a universal law. Ah, well.”
“Are…you making fun of me?” Percy inquired. “That’s a serious question. I have historically failed to notice.”
“I was not,” Izayaroa said immediately. “In my opinion, the only use of mockery is to exchange it with a close friend who enjoys the repartee; all others should be treated courteously, or destroyed without warning. What gave you the impression that I might be, if I may ask?”
“Some people seem to find it amusing to get me to talk about things I’m interested in,” Percy said quietly. “I suddenly had the realization that you were probably aware of all this, and also probably aware that most topics related to astronomy aren’t subject to frequent change. And…I don’t know. Why ask?”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
“If one knows what to look for,” Izayaroa said with a gentle smile, “getting people to talk can reveal much that is of interest regardless of the actual content of their speech. And no, Percy, I was not seeking to embarrass you. Nor will I, ever. Tell me, do people say the way you look at them is creepy?”
Percy cringed, hunching her shoulders, and Pheneraxa turned a baleful look on the elder dragon, who ignored her.
“Sorry,” the princess whispered. “Was I doing it again?”
“You have done nothing whatsoever to discomfit me,” Izayaroa assured her. “Let me guess—and do please correct me on any point I mistake. First people insist that you make eye contact when speaking to them, then when you comply, insist that you are doing it wrong, and can’t explain why.”
“Yes!” Percy exclaimed. “How did you—oh, this is what Kaln talked about. You know things.”
“A few things, here and there,” Izayaroa said with an amused smile. “You stare, fixedly and directly, into my pupils when speaking to me.”
“Yes! What else do people want?! I don’t…”
“When people watch one another’s faces during conversation,” the dragon explained, “they are looking for the tiny, almost unnoticeable movement of facial muscles, largely around the eyes and mouth—but mostly the eyes, hence the demand. The nature of facial expression is largely involuntary, unless one has been trained to exert facial control, so nuances of emotion cause these tiny movements, which they then observe and interpret. Often incorrectly, but the instinct is powerful. Even if the information thus gathered is less than useful, the absence of the gathering is immediately noticed. And all of this is subconscious and instinctive; most people have no idea they are doing it. Hence their inability to explain it, or to articulate what exactly is wrong when someone is not doing it.”
Percy stared at her, mouth slightly open. Pheneraxa frowned at her in concern, hesitantly raising a claw, then seemed to realize she was still holding a handful of candied nuts.
“Try this,” Izayaroa said, leaning forward and widening her eyes. “See the points around the eye where small muscles tend to visibly move in response to emotion? Those are the points of interest. Both corners of the eye, and of the eyebrow, the edges of the upper and lower lid—and the iris and pupil, when they subtly shift to focus on similar shifts in your own face. Look directly at each of these, alternating between them in a randomized pattern. That will approximate the natural effect closely enough that most people won’t notice the difference.”
Belatedly, Percy closed her eyes. For a second her hands shook enough that her tea very nearly sloshed over, but she quickly regained control.
“But that’s…that’s so simple,” Percy’s voice was a bare whisper, opening her eyes again to stare at some point in infinity past Izayaroa’s shoulder. “It’s just…a trick. Can it really be that simple? Nobody ever…no one ever told me.”
“They didn’t know, Percy,” Izayaroa said gently. “I have spent far more of my life not knowing about this than knowing—and I know of it only because I have happened into a position wherein I had access to the research of an empire’s greatest natural philosophers. This is instinct, a thing people tend to just do, which is nonetheless outside their awareness. No one was trying to keep it from you, of that I am certain.”
Percy focused back on her face, nodding once. “Then… I’m sorry, I have to ask, it’s been troubling me for so long. What about the way I look at people is creepy? I feel like if I just understood why…”
“Scientific practice is better suited to tell us what and how than why,” Izayaroa cautioned. “Some of the whys it can deduce, yes—the simpler ones. We are talking about minutia of biology and psychology, the products of uncountable nuances which are themselves poorly understood, and whose roots lie back in the infinite mists of deepest time. In such matters, even the wisest sage can answer why only with conjecture. But I do have a theory which has held up to query thus far. If you accept the limits of it, that this is not truth but supposition, I can share it.”
Percy nodded eagerly. “Please.”
“In the ancient past, when the most distant ancestors of mortal races were lesser beings which had not yet developed speech, much less tools or magic…they were all animals, in essence. And in the animal kingdom, to stare fixedly at something is the act of a predator about to strike. I theorize that an ancient warning lingers deep in the instincts of mortals, making them sense danger in an unblinking, unmoving stare. Truthfully,” she added with the slightest smile, “I had discerned this long before I ever encountered research into the topic of mental variants. In the craft of rule, it is often useful to make people cower with only a look.”
“Being a dragon is sort of cheating, in that regard,” Pheneraxa pointed out.
Izayaroa nodded at her, still smiling. “Quite. But I have seen the trick work just as well for mortals. That is too rapid, Percy, and too regular—it looks unnatural. Give it at least a second between shifts, and try to vary the length of the interval. In fact, the best approach is to watch for subtle movements around the eye and then look directly at whatever tiny muscle you just saw twitch; that is what the ‘natural’ method does, and will be indistinguishable to most.”
“Ah, okay.” Percy nodded seriously, frowning in concentration. “Hm… All right, that’s not quite as simple a trick as I was thinking. I’m going to have to work on this. I mean…practice it.”
“There are several here with whom you can rehearse,” Izayaroa said warmly. “You are always welcome to visit me, and my husband loves little more than talking with people. And I am sure Pheneraxa would be delighted to practice with you.”
“Of course, I love talking—I mean—I enjoy our conversations,” Pheneraxa said, trailing off awkwardly. Percy, still frowning in contemplation at her recent discoveries, didn’t appear to notice anything amiss in her response, and Izayaroa did her the kindness of pretending to have seen nothing.
“Do you…” Percy hesitated, swallowed, and set her chin in a resolute expression before continuing. “Empress Izayaroa, do you think you can teach me to be normal? I would do anything in my power.”
“My first lesson to you, which I shall give for free even if it proves the last, is that you should attempt to move beyond the idea of ‘normal.’ I am no philosopher, nor a scientist, priest, or healer. I am a pragmatist; I deal in the realm of what works, and it has long been my experience that normality is both relative and subjective. When you speak of being normal, you are talking about fitting into a specific cultural context—and no, I would not deign to teach you that, Percy. It is simply not worth the time or effort. Rather, I would teach you the craft of understanding social contexts in general and fitting into them—or not—as you need and desire. That is a practical skill. Blending in and fitting the dictates of whatever culture you may need follows from it naturally. There is a fundamental difference between being able to do so according to your own needs, and being required to do so by the dictates of others. That difference is power, and power is my craft.”
“I…I see,” Percy said slowly, still frowning.
“Tell me, Percy,” Izayaroa asked, tilting her head and regarding the young woman with an intent but serene expression. “If I did teach you to pass for…let us call it ‘conventional’ in your culture. What would you do with that skill?”
“I would be useful,” Percy answered immediately, leaning forward in such avid earnestness that Pheneraxa had to quickly grab her teacup to prevent it spilling. “I could go home and, and repay everything that’s been given to me. I want to be the princess they always wanted, someone who contributes to the kingdom and makes my family proud.”
“Is that truly your ambition?” Izayaroa asked. “Consider that you have options, now, which may not have been available to you before. I recognize you have understandably been preoccupied first with what this change in circumstance has imposed upon and taken from you—and more recently, with putting together the necessities of daily life. Beyond that, however, you enjoy new possibilities. No less than the Golden Empress of Rhivaak has placed herself in your debt; the doors open to you are endless. Would you like to be an astronomer, living and working at peace, with your own well-equipped observatory in my Empire, attended by fellow scientists instructed to accommodate your particular needs?”
Percy let her mouth fall open for a second, her eyes going wide and for just a moment seeming to glimmer with stars of their own; the pure wonder and hope suffused her entire face. Pheneraxa stared at her with an oddly similar expression, biting her lip.
But then the princess’s expression fell, closed off again. With visible reluctance, she shook her head.
“I…could never. As much as that’s everything I ever dreamed of, if I did that, I would never feel any better than I do right now. I’d never stop hating myself. Please understand, Izayaroa, I… I’m a thief. I’ve lived in greater luxury than most people can ever imagine, through no merit of my own. And I’ve done nothing. All I ever do is cause trouble and make people clean up my messes, and contribute nothing to…to anyone. I was…resigned to it. But if you really want to offer me possibilities, new futures… That is the only one I can reach for. I need to repay my family, my country. My people. If I could only be the princess they need, I could accept any other disappointment in life.”
Izayaroa regarded her, smiling but silent, for a heartbeat, and then bowed her head deeply.
“There cannot be such a thing as a right answer to the question I asked you, Princess Perseverance, but to my way of thinking, the answer you just gave is the best one. And yes—I can indeed help you with that. Nor will I do so merely out of obligation stemming from my son’s actions, but because I believe, earnestly, that you are worth the effort, and that the journey will be as gratifying for me as for you.”
“I…don’t know about that,” Percy said nervously. “I, um, I think you might not want to get your hopes up too high.”
“I learned long ago how to correctly estimate the proper height of a hope,” Izayaroa replied with a smile. “To reiterate, Percy—I have no intention of teaching you to pass for someone who does not have your unique condition. Not only am I not a mind healer, I don’t consider that worth doing. You have a package of traits, as does everyone. Some must be overcome; others can be leveraged. If you wish to study with me, we will explore your capabilities, and find the best path for you to achieve the goals you desire. A healer I may not be, but I have met and dealt with countless people during my long years, and I find them endlessly fascinating. Even if the process is slow and we must fumble for every step, I am confident I can help you find a path forward.”
“I’m just not…I don’t know,” Percy said worriedly. “Leveraged? I don’t think that I have particular…um, advantages. I’m still kind of grappling with the suggestion that I might not actually be crazy, or stupid, or…morally deficient.”
“I cannot see into your heart or mind,” Izayaroa said gently. “I judge people by their actions. In the short time you have been here, I have seen you under the most extreme duress—and in that time you have consistently been considerate of others, curious about your surroundings and eager to learn despite your very reasonable fear. The very first moment we met, you pushed through terror and trauma to consider the bigger picture, form a plan, and carry it out. If I am any judge of people, Percy—which I am—your character is most admirable indeed.”
The elder dragon shifted gracefully forward to the edge of her seat, reaching out to gently take one of the now-stammering princess’s hands in her glittering claw.
“Based upon everything I have been able to interpret, your family did their best for you, Percy—they simply were not in a position to provide what you needed. I have assets they do not. Perhaps I cannot teach you to be the princess they wanted, but it matters little; I don’t intend to try. What I plan is to help you discover what kind of queen you have it in you to be, and help you become her.”
Percy squeezed her claw, smiled broadly, opened her mouth, and burst into tears.
“O-oh no,” she blubbered, scrubbing at her eyes with a sleeve. “N-not again! First f-fainting and now… Ugh, you must all think I’m so pathetic.”
Izayaroa glanced at Pheneraxa, who was staring at Percy and making helpless little gestures of dismay with her own claws as she couldn’t seem to figure out what to do. The elder dragon chuckled softly.
“I guarantee, Percy, no one here thinks that.”