I b allseeing_spydr (\(\;;/)/)

Corith was addicted to knowledge.

 

Of course, all dragons were to one point or another, but none of his brethren craved it the way he did. His thirst was unquenchable, as powerful as a human’s need for drink or drugs, and as undeniable. He would fly to the ends of the earth, and frequently did, in pursuit of a tidbit of information that had caught his ear.

 

Besides his hunger for knowledge, Corith was an exceedingly proud creature, quick to anger when slighted and slow to let his temper cool. His first love was information and his second love was his appearance. This dragon’s scales were of a deeper blue than any dragon in existence, and his color was his pride and joy. When he took another form, as his brethren had learned to do at the beginning of time, he kept his color, and his tail, for why should he give up that which made him beautiful? He did not seem to notice the odd looks and comments sent his way when he walked among men, his skin a deep blue and his tail flicking this way and that around his ankles.

 

Oddly enough, for all his wide travels, it was in the city closest to the dragon’s home in which he discovered an innovation of the humans that caused his joy to know no bounds.

 

There was a new instrument that the humans had created. It seemed like they were creating interesting new things every few years. Though he felt little more than contempt for the tiny creatures for being so limited in their personal knowledge, as a race they continued to amaze him. He had taken it into his head to learn the playing of this instrument, for he had heard tell the sound of it could make the hardest heart cry.

 

Corith slipped through the busy streets of the human city, oblivious to the way people stared, skirting piles and puddles of who knows what that always popped up anywhere heavily inhabited by the creatures he both loved and scorned. According to his informant, the new instrument was on display somewhere called a ‘library.’ He did not know the term, so possibly the building itself was something new among the humans. Perhaps it was a place where they displayed all of their new inventions. If it was, perhaps he would learn of more than music this day.

 

He finally spotted the building that had been described to him, and skipped most of the steps in his eagerness to see what lay within. At first he felt disappointment. The instrument was there, of course, presented in a glass case in the middle of the well-lighted room. But the rest of the building seemed to be taken up with shelves full of square boxy things.

 

He had hoped there would be more human invention here, but it did not seem so. However curiosity quickly began to overcome disappointment. What exactly could these odd objects be? The dragon pulled one off of a shelf, and it fell open in his hands. He stared for a moment at the incomprehensible markings, and then went perfectly still as he realized what he held in his hands.

 

Excitement began to well up in his soul. The dragons had no written language; their memories were such that there was no need for it. What a dragon heard, a dragon remembered. But what if there was no need to go seeking such knowledge? What if everything one needed to know what stored within reach?

 

He had known that humans sent letters to each other in written language, as otherwise the distance was too great for them to keep in touch. He had even carried a few from one group of humans to another, but never had he dreamed of this aspect of the art. He must learn the cipher!

 

A human slipped around a shelf, and seemed startled to see him. The man approached warily. “Can I help you m’lor?” The races that roamed the world were still wary of each other. There was only one creature that would venture into a human city fairly flaunting skin as blue as the evening sky. He didn’t dare anger a dragon.

 

Corith shoved the book at the man. “You understand these markings?”

 

“Yes, m’lor,” the human said cautiously. “All of us that work here read.”

 

“Then you will come with me.” The man yelped as the dragon seized his arm, hugging the book to his chest so as not to drop it as he was unceremoniously dragged out into the street. People stared, and then scattered, as the dragon shifted into his natural form, wrapping a claw around the man with the book before he had a chance to flee and find shelter.

 

The human screamed as the dragon lifted them into the air with powerful strokes of his wings. It occurred to him that he probably should have gotten himself and his burden out of the city before taking off, as the wind from his wing beats sent humans and their possessions in various directions. Too late now.

 

The human was having hysterics, screaming and struggling. The dragon growled a bit, and then called to the creature in his claw. “I will remind you that if you fall from this height, you will die. In light of that you may want to stop squirming.” His words made no impact. He doubted the man heard him at all. With a sigh he reached out and touched the human’s mind, gently. The form in his claw went limp, unconscious. Now able to concentrate on his flight, Corith made good time on his way home.

 

He laid the man out carefully on the edge of his nest of cushions and other soft things he had collected, and then carefully touched his mind again. The human took a deep breath, opening his eyes and blinking a few times. Then he registered that the eye directly in front of his face was the size of his head and screamed, scrambling away from the dragon, trying to reach the other side of the nest and find something to hide behind.

 

He didn’t make it that far. Before he was even half way to his destination, the dragon reached out and pinned him to the floor of the nest, craning his neck around to look into the human’s face. “Calm down, silly creature, I mean you no harm.”

 

“Let me go!” his captive cried, still squirming under his grip.

 

“Not if you’re just going to run off,” Corith said firmly. “No one here would purposefully hurt you, but this is a dangerous place for one so small as you, and accidents do happen.” He put a little more pressure on the man, effectively stilling him.

 

“What do you want from me,” the human gasped.

 

“You are to teach me to read,” the dragon stated.

 

This time the human went still on his own. “That’s it? You kidnapped me, knocked me out, and brought me here, just because you don’t know how to read?”

 

“I greatly desire the knowledge,” the dragon supplied.

 

Corith watched with interest as the human’s face turned red, the fear slowly being replaced by anger. “There are better ways to ask you know!” He yelled. “You could have at least told me why you were dragging me off! I thought you were going to eat me!”

 

The dragon snorted. “Eat you? Why? Humans taste disgusting, and you’re not even enough for a decent snack anyhow.”

 

“I’m not sure whether to be relieved or insulted,” the human said sullenly. The fear was gone almost completely now. This human’s city was often host to dragons, and growing up around something tended to remove the fear of it, even when it was big enough to crush a man like a bug and never notice.

 

Seeing that the human was no longer going to flee him, Corith let him up cautiously. “You will teach me?”

 

“I don’t see how I have much of a choice,” the human said, climbing stiffly to his feet to look up at him. “You owe me though, you overgrown lizard.”

 

“A deal then.”

 

Over the next few weeks, the human (whose name, it turned out, was Harith) taught the dragon how to read. After the first session, he managed to convince Corith to take his lessons in human form (or close enough anyways). It took little more than a week for dragon to pick it up. His people were fast learners, and he was no exception.

 

When it was time to take Harith back, however, he insisted he take the book.

 

“But what is the point of knowing how to read if I have no books?” The dragon protested.

 

“It’s property of the library,” Harith glared at him, tugging the book out of his claws. “You can’t just steal it. There are books sold in the market that you can buy, get your own copies lizard.”

 

Corith took his advice. When he returned from dropping Harith, and his book, off at the library, he was carrying as many books as he could find, purchased from various oddment shops. It had taken all day and quite a bit of dragon hoard to gather his little collection, but he considered it worth it.

 

Over the next few years Corith snatched a copy of every book that ventured onto his radar, reading them avidly, memorizing every word. A touch of magic allowed him to craft shelves in his dwelling, like the ones he had seen in the human library, but stretching from floor to high ceiling, with barely enough room between them for the dragon to move.

 

His friends noticed that he was becoming reclusive, but he could only be drawn away from his books for mere hours before he slipped away to return to them. The only time he truly left his books were to get more books, or to visit his human friend in the city. The dragons who called him friend thought it a faze that would pass, eventually, and left him to it, though they made sure he ate and slept if they had to force him to it.

 

He continued to collect these books, simply creating more shelves when he lacked room, until even in his human form he could hardly move between them. Harith, visiting to admire his collection, commented that he might as well have a library of his own. Corith, who had been lamenting the fact that there was no possible way he could fit any more books into his caves, latched onto the idea immediately.

 

The human librarian, who had been young when they first met but was not middle aged, helped his dragon friend seek out a new cave. They checked several, but could not find one of a size that suited them. After all, if Corith could fill his living quarters in not even a quarter of a human lifetime, he would need more room than any of the available caves.

 

They were walking side by side along a hallway when an idea occurred to Harith. “Hey Cor,” he said slowly. “What’s that room to the left there?”

 

The dragon glanced up as they passed an archway. “It is a large cave that runs from the surface to the very depths of the world. There is a wide spiraling ledge that follows it all the way down, and several openings in the sides to other parts of the Fissure. Since it is quite large enough for dragons to fly comfortably, it is used as a kind of causeway.”

 

“Is it roofed over?”

 

“Yes, the one thing that is often complained about is that the cave does not open to the sky, but as of yet no one has done anything about it.”

 

“That might be all to the good,” the human said, letting his excitement enter his voice. “Cor, what if we put your books in there?”

 

The dragon gave him an odd look. “I’m not sure I follow…”

 

“Just hear me out,” Harith backtracked to peer through the archway into the enormous cave beyond. “Look at that ledge, it’s wide enough for four dragons to stand side by side on it. What if you put shelves all along the ledge? Leave the areas around these archways open, and enough room between the shelves and the edge for a dragon to land. This could be your library, and dragons who are looking for a book can fly to the right shelves.”

 

Corith caught on. “You’re right!” He said, flicking his wings out excitedly. “This could work! I’ll have to get permission however, as this is a public area. But it shouldn’t be too hard, I simply have to link with my brothers.”

 

“How does that work?”

 

“Every dragon by right of blood has a connection to all his brethren,” Corith explained. “I simply need call to my brothers and if they are free they will enter into rapport with me. I will make my proposal, and they will cast their vote.”

 

“Will I be able to hear any of this?” Harith asked curiously.

 

Corith pondered him for a moment. “I can bring you into the link, I believe, but I will have to shield you, or your mind will be overwhelmed. You may have a bit of a headache when it’s over as well.”

 

“I can deal with a headache,” the human said bravely.

 

“Very well.” The dragon closed his eyes, humming under his breath. Harith watched in amazement as all of the dragons in his view, mostly those taking advantage of the causeway, landed and closed their eyes, mimicking his quiet humming until the walls thrummed with the deep music. Then he was drawn in.

 

At first it was chaos, the knowledge and personality of hundreds of powerful minds, overwhelming and confusing. Then a barrier rose between him and the chaos, a single mind, sheltering and steadying him. Though it too was powerful to the point of being overwhelming, it held itself in check for his benefit. As he steadied he felt that mind turn its attention away.

 

Vaguely he Felt the knowledge of their entire plan for the library pouring out to the other minds in a rush of information. This information did not touch him, and he found himself relieved. This was confusing enough already. There were questions from individual minds that he heard vaguely, and together he and his protector answered them. Then came their answer. There were a few dissenters, but the majority of the minds gave their approval in a flood of emotion that battered the shield between them and the human.

 

Then abruptly he was back in his own skin. Harith opened his eyes to blink up at the dragon who was staring down at him in concern. At some point he had gone from standing to laying flat on his back. He only vaguely remembered what had happened. A moment later he closed his eyes again with a groan. “A little headache? You have a gift for understatement lizard.”

 

“I am sorry,” Corith said contritely. “We have never brought a human into rapport before, I did not know you would react so violently.”

 

“S’okay, I asked for it. Now turn the lights out and shut up.” There was a soft chuckle, and a moment later he was lifted in a pair of strong arms. He didn’t bother to open his eyes, and a while later was set down on something soft in a dark room. He fell asleep almost immediately.

 

When he woke he sought his friend, and found him, presiding over a handful of dragons who were carefully (though not carefully enough by Corith’s standards) transporting the last of his books to their new home. The dragon greeted him with a toothy grin. “We set up shelves starting at the top of the ledge, these are the last of the books to be moved up there. I figured I could work my way down as I got more books.”

 

“Wonderful,” Harith said with an answering grin. “Now all you need is a main chamber where people can read. Though I suppose there’s plenty of room for that along the ledge.”

 

“I shall think on it,” the dragon replied. He leaned down to shove his head gently against the human, a dragon hug. “Thank you. This would never have happened without you.”

 

“I’m sure you would have managed,” the human said, but his smile belied his words.

 

Many years later Harith stood once again in the now familiar dragon library, to admire the latest addition, this time leaning on his friend for support.

 

The old man gasped as his failing eyes realized what they were seeing. Long ago he had made a comment that the library he had helped create needed a main room, and now it had one. Three dragon-heights below the ceiling that separated the library from the surface was a floor. A floor made of crystal.

 

A dragon artist, using his magic, had called crystal from the earth, forming a barrier across the top of the cave that the entire dragon population could stand upon without it breaking. There were shelves all around the walls, and scattered about were tables and comfortable chairs, both human sized and dragon sized couches. And in the center, clear of all obstruction, was an image in colored crystal.

 

A dragon as blue as the evening sky, and standing beside him, the tip of the blue tail curled protectively around his ankles, was a human. Harith. The dragon lowered his head to nuzzle his friend. “I know it grows hard for you to travel, beloved, but I wanted you to see this. You are as responsible for this place as I am.”