In The Lair of the Draca (Book 2)

In The Lair of the Draca (Book 2) Chapter 41: Cunning

Ziuta sat in a corner of the lodge, her back against a rough stack of kindling, arms wrapped around her knees while she brooded in an uncomfortable silence. The remnants of an unpleasant dream wafted through her tortured mind like the thick, sticky strands of a spiders' web, but try as she might, she could not shake them loose-- nor could she remember what it was that had so terrified her.

She had changed her clothes that morning, but hadn't bothered to brush her hair. She hadn't eaten anything, either. Mother had left her a steaming bowl of onion dumplings for breakfast before they'd left the lodge (Pomoq had requested a special meeting with both Gormaq and the rest of the family), and the only one who remained with her was Michek. The older woman hummed a toneless lullaby as she went about her chores with laundry and mat-shaking; as always, her lustrous, mandarin locks were rolled into two small buns at the nape of her neck. Only a stray curl fell over one lovely grey eye, and Ziuta marveled quietly at Michek's comeliness.

She wondered why Luka did not see it.

"Where is Joo-Lee?" Ziuta asked at last, when it became evident that Michek did not seem in the mood for conversation.

Surprised, Michek blinked and looked up, as though interrupted from a pleasant daydream. "Why, I'm not certain," said Michek lightly. "But Sashek has been taking the girl to Pomoq's for a sort of therapy, if you will. I don't know if you've noticed, but the poor thing has nightmares. She won't eat more than two bites; I'm afraid she just isn't thriving." Michek sighed, shrugged her shoulders, and exchanged one folded basket of clothing for another. "Who knows what goes on in that foreigner's mind of hers?"

"You forget that I am also a foreigner," Ziuta said protectively. She would not let anyone talk down to Joo-Lee, no matter how innocent it seemed. "She was the only one who cared for me when the time came for me to leave my home world and join Joo-Lee's People on their air-ship, the Celestial. She shielded me from many hurts. Taught me some of her People's words, in that lazy-sounding language they have." Ziuta looked at the ground and traced a small circle in the dirt with one finger. "She was my...protector."

"That wide-eyed little thing?" Michek stifled a laugh, which irritated Ziuta, even though she was sure Michek meant no harm. "She seems scared of her very own shadow. I can hardly imagine her taking you under her wing. Little Ziuta, who walks through Looks Thrice with her head and nose held high, afraid of no-one, playing with water-dragons and knocking conceited young girls in the well if they dare look askance at you. Ha!" She giggled; in the dim light of the breakfast fire, Michek looked like a serene young girl preparing to meet a suitor by the village well.

"She was my protector," Ziuta insisted hotly. "Something happened when we were hurled to Weema in our escape pods that damaged her thinking, that's all. Her brain works fine, I'm sure, but she is scared, vulnerabale. She needs only someone to watch over her, ensure that nothing happens while she gets used to living in this place."

"You haven't seemed to have much to do with her 'recovery'," Michek pointed out gently.

Ziuta was silent; Michek was right. She had been selfish and interested more in her own well-being than anyone else's; what could she really say?

"I have no control over my instincts for self-preservation," said Ziuta stiffly. "I am the daughter of a great ruler, but I lost my mother when I was still very young. I had few friends; only the young man I left behind, who was going to marry me. We were-- best friends." Ziuta squinted into the fire and pursed her lips.

Michek folded a thin chemise and set it in her lap. "Who was this young boy?" she asked, interested.

Ziuta scrunched her shoulders. "His name was Derak," she said. "But another girl had eyes for him even then...now that I am gone, I am sure that the two are making preparations for marriage, if they haven't joined already." Ziuta expected to feel the familiar pull of tears, but nothing happened; where she struggled to think of Derak-- sweet, gentle Derak, who would have done anything to make her happy-- she could only conjure up an image of Dijaq's face instead. So handsome, that boy. His unruly, whitish-blond curls made her want to gently run her fingers through them, to cradle his full cheeks in the palm of her hands...