Thr Art of the Dragoon

Dzeliera and I first met Lideria at the Dragoon Academy's military induction in town. Lideria guided us outside, with Dzeliera, my fellow graduate, smoking and me self-consciously talking to other admired on-lookers as if I was afraid my idleness would make the others find me out. Lideria, we learned, besides being one of the best dragon commanders of her generation, was also a professional artist and kept many different papers in a special tattered pouch slung over her shoulder. She chatted while smoking her pipe and quickly took a liking to us. She talked about our performance during the dragon flight exam, how impressed she was, and we talked about her work, which we'd come across on during our time at the academy. Around midnight the presentation closed. It was starting to rain then, and Lideria told us we were welcome to come back to her house for a drink.

We all got into the back of a horse-drawn carriage together, and me and Dzeliera held on to the small handles on the side. Lideria sat in the middle, with her head turned to speak to Dzeliera so that I could see the back of her neck and her little sliver-line hair. Lideria gave the driver an address in Monkstown, and I turned to look out the window. A voice belted from the streets to say the words: "News . . .the latest scandal of . . ", and something, something about a commotion of a Nobelmans' affair in a far of land I didn't know or care for. Then a jingle played from a traveling band nearby. I felt excited, ready for the challenge of visiting a dragoon commander's home, already preparing compliments, showing off my knowledge, and certain facial expressions to make myself seem charming.

The house was of red-brick design, carved into a small cliff, with a grand-sliver fox tree outside with a paved road. Under a large tight-lit fire that illuminated the entrance, the leaves looked orange and playful. I have a strange urge to see other people's houses, especially people who were slightly famous like Lideria. Right away, I decided to remember everything about her home so I could describe it to our comrades later.

When Lideria let us in, a little red dog came racing up the hall and started barking at us. The hallway was warm from the candlelights. Next to the door was a low table where someone had left a stack of coins, handwritten letters, papers of drawings and a book page opened mid-way through. There was a Lord Armavali print hanging over the staircase, the king inclining on a table, eye fixed outside the confines of his world of brushstrokes and pigment. I thought: this is a whole house. A family, with servants, could live here.

"We have guests!", Lideria called down the corridor. No one appeared, so we followed her into the kitchen. I remember seeing an old wooden bowl filled with ripe fruit, and noticing the glass conservatory with a servant tending to the garden. Lideria has taste, I thought. The dog had followed us to the kitchen and was snuffling around at our feet; Lideria didn't mention the dog, so neither did we.

"Wine?" Lideria said." Beer? or both?"

We didn't give a preference, so she chose for us and poured two huge, bowl-sized glasses of wine. We all sat around the low table. Lideria asked us how we'd started studying for our final written exams together. We had both just finished our third year at the academy at the time, but we'd been studying together since military preparatory school. Exams were over by then.

Lideria had her drawing on the table and occasionally lifted it to take a drawing of us, laughing self-deprecatingly about being a 'work addict' and a woman with too many hobbies. She lit a pipe and tipped the ash into a faded varnish-wood ash bowl. The house didn't smell of smoke at all, and I wondered if she usually smoked in there or not.

"New students again?" said a voice from behind Lideria.

A woman was in the kitchen doorway. She held up her hand to acknowledge us, and the dog started yelping and whining.

“This is Daya, ” said Lideria. "Daya, this is Dawor and Dzeliera, 'ex-students', full-fledged riders."

Daya chuckled as she took a bottle of wine from the shelf and opened it on the countertop.

"Come and sit with us," Lideria said.

"Don't mind if I do!" she said, "but I should try and get some sleep before the long ride tomorrow."

The dog laid her head on Daya's lap near where she was sitting, and she reached out absently to touch its head. She asked Lideria if she had washed the dog, she said no. Daya lifted the dog into her arms and let the dog lick her neck.

"Daya is heading to the capital tomorrow," said Lideria.

We already knew that Daya was a merchant, the few but growing women that were. She and Lideria were frequently seen together at events, and we had friends of friends and traveled in the same circles at the academy. She had a petite, pretty face, yet looked like she could comfortably pick up Lideria under her one arm and fend off angry insurgent warriors and armoured knights with the other.

We got into a short discussion about the royal government and the Medrid Church. Lideria asked us if we were religious, and we said no. She said she found religious occasions, like sacrifices or praise worship, ‘comforting in a sedative way, communal,” she said. “There’s something reassuring of a commitment, a routine even for "a woman of the age," as they call me. And I went to a school at a temple, and so I still know most of the prayers.”

“We went to the temple in my family too,” said Dzerlia. “It did pose issues, especially at the academy.”

Lideria grinned and said: “like what?”

“Well, I’m the daughter of a priest,” said Dzeleria, “ and girls, women who pray should not engage in acts of violence.”

“ I don’t think I remember any of the prayers,” Daya said.

We all laughed!

We sat there talking and drinking for a good while. I remember that we talked about the dragon rider Patricia Padyfield, who we all admired, and also about what Dzeliera disparagingly called ‘old men of the past age.’ I started to get tired and drowsy. I couldn’t think of anything interesting to say, and it was hard to show my face in a way that would convey my sense of engagement. Lideria told us she was working on a new gallery of drawings. Dzeliera had seen her first one, but I hadn’t gotten around to the others yet.

“It is not as advanced as the last one,” Lideria told me. “It's almost like a ritualistic practice, not prayers, but through the brush. Due to our profession, you find peace that way, for me at least.” She smiled and winked, “Wait till the next one comes out.”

At this point, I did not say anything.

At about three past midnight, she showed us to the spare room and told us how great it was to meet us, congratulated us again for passing the exams, and was eager to see us on the field. When we got into bed, I stared up at the hay-thatched ceiling. The room spanned repetitively.

"Amazing, isn’t she?" said Dzeliera. "Lideria."

"She's alright", I lied.