The Dragon Griaule

Mauldry composed himself. ‘It is for you, not I, to understand why you are here. You must explore Griaule, study the miraculous workings of his flesh, involve yourself in the intricate order of his being.’

In frustration, Catherine punched at a pillow. ‘If you don’t let me go, I’ll die! This place will kill me. I won’t be around long enough to do any exploring.’

‘Oh, but you will.’ Mauldry favored her with an unctuous smile. ‘That, too, is known to us.’

Ropes creaked, and a moment later the curtains parted, and Leitha, a young woman in a gown of watered blue taffeta, whose bodice pushed up the pale nubs of her breasts, entered bearing Catherine’s dinner tray. She set down the tray. ‘Be mo’, ma’am?’ she said. ‘Or mus’ I later c’meah.’ She gazed fixedly at Catherine, her close-set brown eyes blinking, fingers plucking at the folds of her gown.

‘Whatever you want,’ Catherine said.

Leitha continued to stare at her, and only when Mauldry spoke sharply to her, did she turn and leave.

Catherine looked down disconsolately at the tray and noticed that in addition to the usual fare of greens and fruit (gathered from the dragon’s mouth) there were several slices of underdone meat, whose reddish hue appeared identical to the color of Griaule’s flesh. ‘What’s this?’ she asked, poking at one of the slices.

‘The hunters were successful today,’ said Mauldry. ‘Every so often hunting parties are sent into the digestive tract. It’s quite dangerous, but there are beasts there that can injure Griaule. It serves him that we hunt them, and their flesh nourishes us.’ He leaned forward, studying her face. ‘Another party is going out tomorrow. Perhaps you’d care to join them. I can arrange it if you wish. You’ll be well protected.’

Catherine’s initial impulse was to reject the invitation, but then she thought that this might offer an opportunity for escape; in fact, she realized that to play upon Mauldry’s tendencies, to evince interest in a study of the dragon, would be a wise move. The more she learned about Griaule’s geography, the greater chance there would be that she would find a way out.

‘You said it was dangerous . . . How dangerous?’

‘For you? Not in the least. Griaule would not harm you. But for the hunting party, well . . . lives will be lost.’

‘And they’re going out tomorrow?’

‘Perhaps the next day as well. We’re not sure how extensive an infestation is involved.’

‘What kind of beast are you talking about?’

‘Serpents of a sort.’

Catherine’s enthusiasm was dimmed, but she saw no other means of taking action. ‘Very well. I’ll go with them tomorrow.’

‘Wonderful, wonderful!’ It took Mauldry three tries to heave himself up from the cushion, and when at last he managed to stand, he leaned on his cane, breathing heavily. ‘I’ll come for you early in the morning.’

‘You’re going, too? You don’t seem up to the exertion.’

Mauldry chuckled. ‘It’s true, I’m an old man. But where you’re concerned, daughter, my energies are inexhaustible.’ He performed a gallant bow and hobbled from the room.

Not long after he had left, Leitha returned. She drew a second curtain across the entrance, cutting the light, even at its most brilliant, to a dim effusion. Then she stood by the entrance, eyes fixed on Catherine. ‘Wan’ mo’ fum Leitha?’ she asked.

The question was not a formality. Leitha had made it plain by touches and other signs that Catherine had but to ask and she would come to her as a lover. Her deformities masked by the shadowy air, she had the look of a pretty young girl dressed for a dance, and for a moment, in the grip of loneliness and despair, watching Leitha alternately brightening and merging with gloom, listening to the unceasing murmur of the Feelys from without, aware in full of the tribal strangeness of the colony and her utter lack of connection, Catherine felt a bizarre arousal. But the moment passed, and she was disgusted with herself, with her weakness, and angry at Leitha and this degenerate place that was eroding her humanity. ‘Get out,’ she said coldly, and when Leitha hesitated, she shouted the command, sending the girl stumbling backwards from the room. Then she turned onto her stomach, her face pressed into a pillow, expecting to cry, feeling the pressure of a sob building in her chest; but the sob never manifested, and she lay there, knowing her emptiness, feeling that she was no longer worthy of even her own tears.