There wasn't much chaos to be caused at Cy Dragonstake. If there was, it had already been caused, or it was too boring, or it was too inelegant. There were too many people, too few places to hide, too great a risk of capture and punishment. ::We can live here,:: Shishayair said, ::but we cannot work here, and there is only so much you can learn here. Never terrorize your neighbors, Proquess, for they will be the first to turn you in.::

So when he had a plan to act out, or a lesson to teach her, or when he got too bored of doing nothing dangerous or destructive, he took her somewhere else. At first, before they were taught teleportation, they flew away from the dragonry and caused trouble somewhere else on the planet. Shihayair was very creative, and very methodical, about wreaking havoc. For the most part, Proquess was content to follow, watch, and let him tell her what to do; it was what she was used to. They were rarely caught, and even more rarely punished. She learned all sorts of useful things: places to hide, things to say or not say, ways to escape danger or lay the blame on someone else.

Then Shishayair learned how to teleport them, first around the world-- which opened up a whole new set of possibilities for appearing and escaping without attracting more attention than desired-- and then off the planet, itself. Shishayair liked that prospect, and Proquess found it exciting to cling to his fur, letting him carry her between worlds. As long as he was with her, she would be safe, so she had nothing to fear. ::You should not need me,:: he told her again and again, with patience and reassurance every time. ::You are dangerous enough on your own to be your own protector.:: She couldn't quite believe him, but she really didn't care whether she was dangerous enough to protect herself; she liked the security he gave her.

One of the worlds they visited was Star City, a place with no sky and nothing growing. Shishayair told her that it wasn't really a world, but something like a building-- a very, very, very large building-- that hung in space, like former homes like asteroids or dead moons had. That the humans who lived there-- nothing more than prey to someone like her-- could could create a whole hive out of nothing boggled her, and she stepped carefully there. So, for the most part, did he; on that station, he muted his more violent tendencies, emphasizing his chilly politeness and keeping any plots he put into motion small or lessons he wanted to teach her small and easily unnoticed.

::The humans are protective of what they built,:: he explained when she asked-- asking, at least, had grown easier, particularly because he never explained anything unless she asked. ::If we cause trouble here, there will be far more trouble for us. I would prefer not to teach you that particular lesson just yet.::

So it was to her surprise when one day, after a brisk chase around the lowest and largest deck of the building-in-the-sky that was Star City, he landed on one of the ledges made for that purpose and announced that he had another lesson in mind for her. ::This will be a bit different from anything else I have tried to teach you,:: he told her, his main eyes focused on hers but the eyes of all three of his smaller heads focused out into the open air of the flying deck.

::How will that be?:: she asked politely, alighting gently beside him. She had not caught him, this time; he had stopped before the chase was ended. Sometimes, she suspected, he let her catch him, but every now and then she surprised him. This time there were no surprises in the air: those were to come only after they landed. 

::Everything I have taught you so far has been destructive,:: he explained calmly. ::This will be more, shall we say, creative.::

She didn't know what that meant, and by now had no qualms about saying so. The quick, chill mind smirked at her; his mouth was not even involved. ::Perhaps "procreative" is a better word.::

Procreative. What did that mean?

::Do you see that lovely lady there?:: he asked, diverting her attention from confusion over the unfamiliar word. Assuming he would come to the point when he needed to, she looked out into the flying deck. She did not see, as he did, but she sensed the dragoness he indicated, and he reflected an image back at her: golden yellow, only four-limbed rather than six like herself and him, with a powerful, fluked tail. She was gliding lazily on artificial currents, carnation-pink wings held out, broad and tipped with feathers at the joint. A single horn curved up from her forehead. She was, Proquess thought, a very strange dragoness, and hardly "lovely", as Shishayair called her.

::Yes,:: she answered, puzzled.

::Her name is Wrellin. I am going to chase her.::

::Like... how we chase each other?:: she asked, tail lashing. She wasn't sure she liked the thought of him playing with-- training, he called it, but it was really nothing more than play, because none of his other lessons were particularly fun-- someone else; he never had, before.

::No, my dear,:: he patiently clarified, sounding very faintly amused. ::When we chase, and one of us catches the other, we merely switch roles. This time, I am going to chase her to mate with her, if I catch her. That is what procreation means: producing children with another. Close your mouth, Proquess, you look silly with your second jaw hanging out like that.::

Once he pointed out that she was gaping, Proquess closed her mouth before it could drop open any further. She wasn't sure she liked that idea much, either. Why would Shishayair want to make children with such a strange dragoness? More importantly, why would Shishayair want to make children with a stranger? What would he do with children? As far as she could tell, he had never been particularly childlike, and he didn't seem to like children much, anyway. In fact... what would he do with a mate? ... What would she do if he had a mate?

She said none of those things, though they all crossed through her mind. She was confused; that was hardly uncommon. He had a reason for everything he did, even though she often didn't understand those reasons. ::And this is a lesson?:: she asked meekly.

::After a fashion,:: was all he said, expression opaque and unreadable, mental voice unshakably calm and still faintly amused, and she could not convince him to say more.

This Flight was Cancelled

See Chapter Four for the continuing story!

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