The Dragon's Book

*.:*:.*Chapter 6.2*.:*:.*

Sorry for the break! I didn't feel comfortable posting when the U.S. is in such a state of unrest. My heart goes out to everyone who is suffering and in pain right now. I know that my country has a major, systemic problem with racism. I've donated and spread the word about healing, and I hope you will as well--though, obviously, you don't have to. 

I hope no one takes offense at my continued posting. I want to give the world something lovely now more than ever before. 

Lots of love, everyone! 

Morgan Lester

- - -

On the third day of travel, when the sun was high, they passed beneath the red-painted bridges of Apeti Tonatl and saw before them a great canal which cut through the river on both sides and which was nearly as wide as the river itself. It was lined with brilliantly white stone.

"So this is the Malui Canal," Nero said thoughtfully. "I knew it ran in a circle around the valley and through all seven rivers, but somehow I never thought it would be this big." The last time he had seen it had been from midair, where he had watched it go glimmering all the way around the Jungle, intersecting with the rivers like a moonlit spider's web.

"The Emperor Tezca must have thought a great deal of it," Taziè replied between canoe-strokes. "This is the only thing he ever did for his people after he conquered and murdered them."

""E didn't build it," retorted Taloc with a smirk. "That emp'ror never did a thing 'imself. And the buildin' killed lots, too. Think those massive stones never hurt nobody? Lots of blood in this 'ere c'nal."

Nero shuddered. He had never cared much for his heritage before. Now it ashamed him. "And we're to turn here?"

While they had discussed the sight before them, Taziè had steered the canoe towards the last staircase into Apeti Tonatl. Now, with a sudden shudder, it stopped against the stone steps.

"We can't go anywhere just yet," she said with a frown. "We're taking in water—can't you see it?"

Nero looked down at his feet. He had grown used to the perpetual damp by now, but the water in the bottom of Taziè's boat was at least three inches deep. He hadn't seen at first because the wood of the canoe was naturally dark where it had been hollowed out with fire.

"It's that knot," Taziè said suddenly. "I've never had trouble with it before, but perhaps after being on the water for four days it's taken too much strain—the canoe's really not big enough for three people, and I've never been this far in it—"

As though on cue, the boat began to sink alarmingly quickly in the back, where it was not held up by the city steps. Nero tried desperately to lean forward for balance, but now his feet were above his head—

A couple of people in vibrant, nicely-woven clothes turned with curiosity to watch as the canoe slid gracefully off the stairs and, with a final insolently elegant swoop, dove beneath the river's surface, never to appear therefrom again. On its way down it deposited Taziè, Nero, and Taloc, who swore alarmingly, in the river's waters. Nero only just managed to grab the tip of the Old Fellow's crutch, but the wrapping drifted away, leaving it to gleam brightly silver in his hands. He could not hold the crutch and swim, however (in fact, he couldn't swim at all) and had it not been for Taziè both he and the crutch would probably have joined the canoe at the bottom of the river. He was flailing desperately, then floating gently into murky green darkness—he felt a sudden tug—then nothing.