Dragon's Blood by Jane Yolen Read Free Book Online

at him, she added, "But if you are recovered enough to eat something solid, you'll find extra slabs of meat in the box." Her head jerked toward a series of metal lockers standing against the wall.
    As he walked over to them, Jakkin heard a soft humming. He knew that in the main city of Rokk, where the original masters had lived, there was electrical power in every building. But around the countryside there were only a few small generators. The starships still landed in Rokk and rumor was that, from time to time, they brought a few extra generators to the planet. Jakkin had never seen one. He wouldn't even know what one looked like. He put his hand onto the first lockers and could feel a buzzing under his fingers. He looked up at Kkarina, ready to ask her about it, but she was tasting the mash, her eyes closed, lips moving in and out as if answering her own questions.
    He opened the first locker. It was cold inside and little puffs of mist as fine as dragon's breath formed around the door. On the shelves, jars stood in silent rows. The jars were filled with red and orange liquids of varying viscosities. The next locker was equally cold. It contained loaves of bread. Jakkin found the meat in the third cold locker. He took out a bright pink slab and carried it over to the stove.
    Kkarina, her eyes open now, put the spoon back into the mash and laughed at him. As she stirred, she said, "Sit down and eat. A long hunger makes a short appetite."
    Jakkin sat, wrapping his legs around the stool legs, and chewed contentedly. As he thought about the cold lockers, he was distracted by the strong juices in the meat. Soon all he concentrated on was the flow of the juice into his mouth, the passage of meat down his throat. He didn't say a word until he had finished the slab, and then all he could manage was a quiet "Thank you."
    Kkarina hummed an old melody as she worked. Jakkin recognized it as the song "The Little Dragon of Akkhan." He did not know all the words. He was just wondering if he
dared ask for another piece of meat when Kkarina turned to him.
    "Take another slab with you, and then off to bed. You look ready to fall, boy."
    Jakkin was about to thank her again when he noticed something peculiar. Without meaning to, he framed a statement that was part question. "But you wear no bag."
    "So?"
    "But a bonder..." He hesitated, and kept staring at her bagless neck. It was spattered with reddish gold freckles, like her arms.
    "What makes you think I'm a bonder?" She tasted another spoonful, nodding her head.
    "But staying here at the nursery. And cooking. And not living in the masters' quarters, with a single room. I just thought..." His voice trailed
off
in confusion.
    "You just thought what every bond boy thinks. That a master need not work—except if he wants to play at being a nursery owner or a senator, eh? That any woman lucky enough to have gold to fill her bag would lead a useless, silly life?"
    Jakkin tried to shrug, but the movement
hurt his back. And he wouldn't admit to Kkarina that he had never really thought much about being a master except for filling his bag and freeing himself from bond.
    "Listen, boy, I had years enough of mindlessness in the baggeries. Where boys like you tried to become men in one slippery, sweaty night. When you're pretty, no one expects much more than open legs and a closed mind."
    "
You?
In the baggeries?" Jakkin tried to imagine it, that large, shapeless body decked out in the filmy fripperies of a bag girl. Still, when Kkarina spoke, her voice was low and full of music.
    "I'll tell you something, boy. Feeding this big family of bonders is a tough job, and I love it. Feeding them well, feeding them with the finest meals this side of Rokk. I
love
it." She smiled again and pointed to the wall. "Look at that."
    His eyes followed. Above the stove there was a framed miniature, a bit sooty around the edges, with a dark jagged stain, like lightning, jetting from the right side to the left. Jakkin