Lord, Lady, Dragon

1.

It was a very normal early-summer morning. Almost all the creatures who were supposed to be awake, were awake. All those who should be asleep, were asleep. And those who couldn’t decide, didn’t decide.

In many of the houses in this colorful land, human-shaped creatures were waking up. They were supposed to wake up around now, so that was as it had to be as well. All, except perhaps one or two houses. One for certain, as their inhabitants were creatures of the night.

One of the places where people were waking up should be the home of the Abeloth household, where Harmon and his wife Fidelma still were very much asleep.

The Abeloth household wasn’t big. It wasn’t famous either. More to the point, it was the laughing stock of the area, as Harmon and Fidelma wore the titles of 31st Dragon Lord and Dragon Lady. This would have carried weight, had there been dragons around. Fate, however, wanted that dragons hadn’t been sighted in more than twenty generations.

Rumor said this was the reason for the couple to sleep late each day. Rumor claimed they did so to avoid the looks and stares from those, whose houses had an actual creature named after them.

Rumor had it wrong.

~~~

Are you awake? Fidelma had heard her partner toss and turn for the better part of an hour already.

No, Harmon said, which earned him a punch in the back. Ouch.

Don’t lie to me.

Harmon sat up and tried to rub his back. You punch harder every week.

Fidelma sat up too. That’s because I train harder than you.

There’s only so much a Dragon Lord can do with a busted back, Harmon muttered. Might as well get up.

He looked over the side of the bed, where the green Dragon House-slippers were waiting for them. Having been a dragonless Dragon Lord for many years, he’d grown to loathe the dragon-winged slippers, but they were soft and fit well. They also kept his feet safe from the mean, cold, marble floor.

Don’t dilly-dally. Put them on. Fidelma hoped that motivating him would help her as well, but the attempt failed. Stupid things, she said, swinging her legs out of the bed and slipping them into the footwear. Just don’t watch them, she advised Harmon. This was bad advise too, because now she was compelled to look down. The dragon wings flapped for a moment.

Yeah, sure. Harmon closed his eyes and moved his legs. Shit. He pulled his feet back up, as if the marble had bitten.

Missed the shoes again, huh? Fidelma grinned. She hated the cold floor too.

Urgh. Harmon stopped avoiding the inevitable and shoved his feet into the slippers. Yes. Flap flap. He got up and walked to the door.

Sweetheart?

You’re talking to me? Harmon winked as he turned to face her.

Yes. Do you see any other sweethearts? Seriously, you should put something on.

Huh. It’s not as if the servant staff will get a shock, he huffed, as he walked to the chair. The slipper wings flapped. He ignored them as he put on the dragon housecoat. At least that had no wings.

True, because non-existent staff is shocked by nothing, but the people in the street would be, Fidelma said as she got up and put on a similar housecoat. We have these things called windows, remember?

I do, I do. Come, darling Dragon Lady, let’s find out if there’s still something edible in the kitchen.

~~~

After breakfast, Harmon and Fidelma had to go out. It was part of their daily routine, as it was for many people. They had to learn about the latest news concerning the invaders.

That invasion, as it was called, had started over five years ago. Back then, a group of people had started a siege on the city. Siege was rather exaggerated, but the nobles of the area liked to make a big fuss of things. No one knew where the invaders came from, who they were, nor what their actual goal was. So far, all they’d done was hovering over the city a huge airship and occasionally stealing someone. The problem was they kept coming back and they kept stealing people, and no one knew how. Or why. None of the stolen people had ever returned.

I think this will do, Fidelma said, looking at herself in a nearly crack-free mirror. They’d found that in one of the cellars, and restored it to a usable state. They’d even found a frame that was a close enough fit for it. Harmon had fixed the wobbly areas with tiny bits of wood.

Ready to face the world? Harmon asked.

As always, she said, and kissed him on the cheek.

The couple left their home and walked to the nearest cable railway station, where they waited for an available cabin to arrive. They owned a personal vehicle which had stopped functioning. Instead of the steam valves producing enough power to move the car around, the vapor came out in places unfit for steam passing through, melting many crucial parts. That had rendered the vehicle useless, and also more expensive to repair than the Dragon House funds could bear.

Someone should invent an easier way to inform people about the latest news, Fidelma said as they went up the stairs to the cable car platform.

There is, my dear, Harmon said. "It’s called newspaper. Unfortunately, by the time that reaches us, it’s merely old paper."

Suffice to say that Dragon House didn’t allow for the delivery of new news either.

I’m trying to think of an old and rich relative who’s about to die, Fidelma said, as an empty cabin came to a halt. Quickly they got in, as the system wasn’t designed for slow people.

Well, there’s Uncle Alberto, Harmon said, forcefully being thrown into the seat as the cabin started moving. Drat. Again.

Be careful. You’re not rich like Uncle Alberto, Fidelma said. I have more use for you alive.

Glad to hear that. Harmon looked out over the city the flowed along beneath them. The well-maintained mansions were a bit of a nuisance, because they made their own habitat stand out in the wrong way.

Three stops later, they got up and left the cabin.

Once down the staircase, they walked the last part to the news office, which was on the border between the nobility neighborhood and that of the common people.

Oh no. Not him. Harmon wished they could turn around and walk off unseen, but the Butterfly Baron had already spotted them. That man always found the greatest joy in annoying everything connected to Dragon House.

Well, well, if it isn’t the people from Dragonless House, the Baron said. His usual name was Jack, but he never responded to that. How are you today, good people? Do you finally have a dragon to show? Even a very small one would do.

As long as it’s not a lizard, said Jack’s wife Gwenny. I can’t stand lizards, and if dragons are big lizards, I can’t stand dragons either. The Butterfly Baroness turned to her husband and giggled in the most childish manner.

Not to worry, m’dear, the Baron said. I’ll protect you. He produced a tooth pick, probably made of bone. This should do just fine.

Ignore the little prick, Fidelma said, just loud enough, and walked past the two people, whose clothing clearly depicted the animal house they stood for. Harmon gave the Baron his best ignore and followed his partner.

They headed into the news office and skimmed over today’s headlines.

Ah, welcome, the Print Master said. My favorite members of local nobility. Looking for anything special?

If you have dragon sightings, that would be good, Harmon said, turning to shake the woman’s hand. Or news about a stolen person returning, that would be nice as well.

Unfortunately there is none of either, Priscilla said, known to the broader public as Printscilla. She ran the local print shop. We can only call ourselves lucky no one got stolen the past few weeks. It always gives me such a headache the next day.

Harmon started saying he could think of some people that could be stolen, as far as he was concerned, but Fidelma stopped him by elegantly ramming his arm with her elbow. She knew him and she also knew when to stop him.

If you ask me, we’ll sooner have dragon sightings than people coming back, Printscilla said. If there are any, I’ll come over and let you know in person.

Thank you, Harmon said, rubbing his arm. Let’s see what other news might be of interest…

Printscilla asked them to warn her if they found anything worthwhile.

I like her sense of humor, Fidelma said, but after a while they decided it hadn’t been humor at all. The most interesting article on the wall was the news that all efforts to improve the ray-tube cannon had failed.

I don’t understand they even dare to try and switch that thing on, Harmon said. "Ray-tube tech is new, unstable, not understood, and at best it’s amazing no one dies when it fails. Failure, they both knew, meant that the cannon had blown up yet again. They’ll have more success trying to shoot the airships down with a regular cannon."

Fidelma agreed. They’ll miss all of the time because the balls don’t go high enough, but they won’t kill as many people. That had happened a few times, because the cannon ball had dropped into the house of some unfortunate soul. Usually that only meant one dead person.

Someone came in. The couple knew him as George, and he started studying the same article. Remember the time they put someone on a high roof, with a long-rifle gun?

They all snorted. The man with the gun had made it out of his adventure alive, without firing a shot. As the dirigible had come to steal someone, the shooter had lost his balance while aiming, and slipped. Some brave folks saved him as he was hanging from the rifle, which had gotten stuck behind two lamps. The lamps had gone down after the rescue.

When was the last person taken? Harmon asked. He didn’t remember. Must have been a few weeks already.

George knew it had been almost three weeks now. They’ll be here again soon. I’ll go and burn some candles to the Holy Grandmother, that they won’t get anyone from my family.

Fidelma ignored the comment. Harmon wished George well with his candles. They both had no confidence in gods or goddesses no one had ever seen, and who had never shown any sign of actually existing.

Thank you. George, as so many in the city, would die for their pantheon of deities. Harmon thought someone might be better off being stolen. Might. It all depended on the way one would die. Hearing the stories about some of the gods, his general conviction was there were quite some sadistic bastards in their ranks. Any luck with your dragons?

Fidelma smiled. George always asked about the dragons. Not yet, but we’re not giving up. We’ll let you know when we encounter one. Even when it’s a small one.

Oh, yes. Definitely a small one. I think they’ll be less dangerous than the big ones.

Harmon shrugged. We don’t know. We’ve yet to meet a dragon.

George smiled. For you, I hope you do. For the rest of the town, I hope you don’t.

Fidelma smiled back. I understand. Everyone here thinks dragons are dangerous.

They are! George looked at her, surprise on his face.

And how do you know? Did you ever meet one? Fidelma asked.

No, but everyone talks about how dangerous dragons are. From the old tales. George looked a bit terrified at the mere thought. I should go home now, and burn the candles.

You do so, George. Say hello to your family, said Harmon.

George nodded and waved, then hurried out.

Well, that was the highlight of the day, Printscilla said, joining the couple again. Thanks for that. You should come in more often, not just once a day.

We can’t promise, Harmon said. We still have to find those dragons, remember?

Printscilla laughed. Sure. Let me know when you do. I’ll print large posters about that.

We’ll do that, Harmon promised. We’ll see you tomorrow.

Am looking forward to it. The owner of the print shop waved as the two left.

~~~

They left, Harmon said, noticing that the Baron and Baroness of Butterflies were no longer in view. Good.

They’re nice in their own way, Harmon. Don’t judge them too harshly.

I don’t, he said. I judge them just harshly enough. Just because they have butterflies and we don’t have dragons, doesn’t make them better than us. He tried to imagine the looks on people’s faces if they were to appear with a few real dragons. They’d probably be terrified. All the old tales mentioning dragons, spoke of huge creatures that could spit fire and bring destruction to buildings with their massive tails.

I say we walk home today. Fidelma pointed out the nice weather. And who knows, we might see something interesting along the way.

Like dragons, right? Harmon winked at her. Still, he never lost hope. There were so many old tales about dragons. There had to be at least a core of truth in some of them.

More likely that we run into some gods, his partner said, but we’ll see.

Maybe there’s a dragon god. Harmon laughed for a moment, linking arms with her as they strolled off.

The houses of the nobility all looked amazing. Many of them had recently been rebuilt or gotten new layers of paint, because of one of the failed ray-tube cannon failures. For some reason, the nobles always wanted those newfangled devices to be fired in their neighborhood, even though the chances of things going bad were high.

The doubtful glory, in case something went right, seemed to be worth that price. Dragon House was far away from the center of such activity, which was exactly how the couple wanted it. Their house was in need of some repairs already, and an accidental blast from such a cannon would probably mean the end of the house and the Dragon House line.

Can we take a detour? Harmon asked at one point. They were about to enter the street where the Canary Count lived, and that man’s house was an eye-sore to him.

Not again, Fidelma said. It’s much shorter this way. Just look at the ground if you can’t stand all those colors.

And plug my ears, because I can’t stand the chanting people Carlos hires all the time. Even from where they were standing, they could already hear the drone of voices, reciting the most worrying parts of the religious scriptures known to the country.

They’re indeed quite loud today, Fidelma agreed. Right, let’s avoid the religious madman today. If it’s this loud, he’s probably out there chanting with them.

The couple didn’t like Canary Count Carlos. Whenever the man saw anyone who didn’t follow the local religion as fanatically as he did, he’d try to drag that person into the garden and bombard the poor soul with all the doom and damnation he’d ever dug up. Everyone knew there was a lot of that.

~~~

Once they’d reached home, they looked for a bite to eat. With that, they retreated to their favorite spot to have their lunch.

Sitting in the somewhat sad, overgrown area behind the house they still called ‘the garden’, they discussed the plan for the rest of the day.

I might sit here for a while longer, Fidelma said. It’s nice out here.

I agree. It’s nice. Harmon looked at the empty plates and cups. Can I get you some more, Fi?

More tea would be nice, she said.

He poured her some and filled up his own cup too. I think we’re close to finding something.

Of course. She admired his positive attitude. They’d been searching the various cellars under the house for years, and so far they hadn’t found any clue which would get them to dragons. Harmon’s ancestors had written tomes about the creatures, but the more recent the writing, the less factual and more wishful the accounts had become.

I know, he said. Sometimes it makes me feeling close to thinking it’s a waste of time. He let out a sigh. But… thirty generations of Dragon Lords and Ladies can’t be wrong.

Fidelma glanced at him. Are you sure?

Of course not, but if I falter in my conviction, where would that leave us? We’d just be Fidelma Tanwen and Harmon Abeloth, and the laughing stock of the city.

She just looked at him, knowing he shared her thoughts. They already were the latter, but in general they also were very good at ignoring that. Slowly she picked up the fine china teacup and sipped from it. "After this, we’ll