The Dragon's Book

*.:*:.*Chapter 7.3*.:*:.*

The Talk could not happen until Taziè left the group of dancers, which was not until the drummers had ceased with the dancing-rhythm and begun to sing the tale of Creation in deep, haunting tones. Had it really only been a little while ago that Nero had been tracing those lines on paper, looking forward only to a life of priesthood?

Then Taziè returned, and plopped down on the paving-stones next to him in a sudden rush of fluttering pink cotton.

"That was wonderful," she gasped in between deep breaths. "I've never danced in so large a group—everyone was so skilled! And such drumming! But let's listen—this is a dull tale but if they sing as well as they play I won't mind it a bit." She turned back towards the front and slumped backwards, leaning on the heels of her palms.

"Taziè." Nero poked her arm, but was so hesitant that the tip of his finger barely grazed her skin; she didn't look at him.

Bite her, the Voice suggested.

Nero didn't bite Taziè, but he did poke her harder.

"What is it?" She turned reluctantly. "Are you sure it can't wait?"

"No." Nero took a deep breath. "Do you remember what you said about villages and moving on?" He hoped desperately that Coza, who was a couple yards behind them, was not listening in.

Taziè nodded. "Yes, about de—"

He elbowed her hard.

"Ow!"

"Just announce it to everyone, won't you?"

"Alright." And Taziè, grinning, opened her mouth as though she were going to shout.

Nero shook his head frantically. "Taziè, it isn't funny!" he hissed. "People here don't let us move on. You, you... you don't know who I am or even what kind of past you're returning me to. I don't—you don't have anything to gain from helping me unless you use what you know about me. I'm..." He twisted his hands together. "I'm scared."

The drummers, with a final wavering note, finished the creation story and began another, one more suited to Taziè's tastes. But her eyes never wavered from Nero's face for a moment, and after some time she reached out and touched his hand.

"I don't want you thinking I'm doing this for gain," she said softly. "I don't expect anything from you, and I would never betray you, either. I'm sorry that you worried about it, though I don't think your worry is silly or unreasonable. The truth is that I did decide to help you for selfish reasons."

Nero, who had just begun to breathe a sigh of relief, stiffened again. What was she going to say to him?

"I had to get out of that house," Taziè explained in a rush. "I hated living in a ruin—I hated fishing every day—I hated hearing about glorious things I could never hope to do. And I hate my father. So when I said I would take you home, I was really giving myself an excuse to escape mine."

Nero was shocked. Taziè had always seemed so carefree that sometimes he wondered if she had any idea what a terrible living situation she was in. But of course she knew.

"Father isn't really my father," she spat, as if the secret left a bitter taste in her mouth. "He says he won me when gambling with my uncle, but I know it was really one of my parents—and I've felt, ever since I knew, that because Father kept me and raised me I would never bring myself to leave him until he died. But it'd become so bad before you came—he was so drunk, all of the time, and I had to clean waste off of the floor and work myself ragged to afford whatever he wanted so that he wouldn't display himself in town. We only have one life, and I would look up at the sky and wonder if mine would keep going with labor and humiliation until it all ended." She took several deep breaths and continued. "I wanted to leave him—but I was almost relieved when I saw him waiting for us in the canoe because I knew that if we left without him I wouldn't return to him. I would live with agonizing guilt for it, but I would never go back—and he would die alone." She pulled her hand suddenly away from Nero's and pressed it to her forehead, then turned her face away. As Nero turned his own to look at her he noticed for the first time that Coza was no longer behind them. Where had she gone?

"So now you know the truth," Taziè whispered hoarsely. "I said I would help you because I wanted to leave Father. I hate the man who saved my life—I hate him for habits he can't control and poverty he didn't choose—and I wanted to abandon him for a life that would probably only sink me lower instead of giving me the glory I'm stupid enough to want."

Nero did not know what to say at first. He recalled his conversation with Taloc—had it really only been a couple of days ago? The old man was a drunk and a reprobate, but he had kept Taziè, raised her, and tried to hide the secret about her mother from her. In his own way, he had tried to give her something better than what her mother could. How sad it was that the drinking habit and tendency towards laziness, which would have been little more than an annoyance if the Emperor hadn't died and taken Taloc's occupation from him, now made real love between himself and his adopted daughter impossible. Nero had never confronted such problems before, and for the first time in his life couldn't think of a Ta'Vedin solution. Prayers couldn't mend the life Taziè had been denied.

"I'm sorry," he finally said. "I'm sorry. I'm... I don't blame you for anything." He cursed himself for not being able to say something more to the point, something that could help instead of just react. He wanted to make things alright for her. However, Taziè seemed to understand, and she looked back at him with oddly glistening eyes and smiled. His chest gave a strange little twist at the sight, and his face burned. But she didn't notice his discomfort—she had already turned to face the drummers once more, and was tapping her fingers against the paving-stones with the same energy she had before while they sang a tale of Heroism and Death in low, piercing voices.

A movement in the corner of his eye drew Nero's attention, and he turned to see Coza standing several yards off with a couple of dangerous-looking, spear-wielding persons behind her; she had been nearby the entire time. She raised her eyebrows, as though to ask him whether the spears would be needed. But he raised a hand to tell her no; he had heard enough to know that he was in no danger from either Taziè or Taloc.

Of course, that was only mostly true.