He shook his head. "Some people hate Moles, Ayla. They lost a loved one, and they don't care that you didn't do it. You were a Mole. You lived down there. They're going to blame you just for that."
"But I'm a Dragon now!" I reminded him.
"They won't care," he said. "Just like how the men didn't care that you could do more than sew and cook. Some people are assholes, even up here."
"Oh..."
It hurt to think of my new people hating me, but I would change their mind. I would show them. Just like the woman whose daughter had died after the last attack. She looked at me and saw the hunters. She needed to blame someone, so this was probably no different. I could - and would - take it. But I would also show them I wasn't like that.
Then Rymar called out again. "The day after tomorrow!" he yelled. "Moles will come at sundown, so be locked away before that. Do not wait until the last minute. Do not tempt fate, because Moles will not care. They are here to hunt us. They want to kill us!" He glanced at Jerlis, smiled, and then added, "And if you have any questions, contact the defense militia. Zasen and Drozel will be happy to help. That is all. Thank you!"
Clearly, that was some kind of dismissal. All around us, people began leaving. Bodies shifted. Groups angled away. Some went upwards, others downwards, and more peeled off at the sides. They'd mentioned north and south, but I didn't know which ways those were yet. I'd seen them on maps, but that was all. To me, I simply followed the paths I knew.
Then someone called out my name. "Ayla!"
I turned, but so did Zasen, Kanik, and Saveah.
In that direction, people were moving out of the way. Most smiled. Some nodded at the person coming towards us, but I couldn't see the man. He was shorter than the tall tailed people near us. But when he got close enough, I recognized Boris, the sign maker.
"Ayla!" he called again, smiling as he shuffled towards me. A younger man with a tail followed him protectively.
"Grampa," the Dragon chided, "you're going to get knocked over."
Boris just flapped a hand at him. "Hush, Cyril." Then he reached me, clasping my arm with a wide smile. "Young lady, I finished it." And he held up one of those metal hourglass shapes on a leather cord. "Let me put it on you?"
"Thank you," I breathed, ducking my head to make it easy.
Boris draped the leather over my head and hair, letting it go when it rested on my shoulders. Around my neck, the weight of the pendant was heavy, but it felt good. This was my sign die!
"You can use it to stamp things," Cyril explained. "Right now, the edges are going to be sharp, so just be aware of that."
Boris grunted at him. "She's not an idiot, boy."
Cyril just sighed wearily. "And one day I'll be doing this, so let me, Grampa."
I looked from the tailed man to the ancient tailless one. "You're related?"
Boris just slapped Cyril's arm proudly. "My grandson. He's got the eye for Dragons, you see. Cyril's my apprentice."
"I helped a bit with the Phoenix," Cyril admitted. "Well, with casting the main die. Grampa sculpted the sign."
"Because," Boris said, raising his voice a bit, "I wanted to make sure our newest Dragon had a sign that suited her escape from her old life."
All those people who'd moved out of Boris's way were still hovering around. So many were watching us, and probably listening too. I could almost feel their eyes on me, and I wasn't used to being the center of attention. All my life, I'd been expected to be meek, dutiful, and invisible.
"Thank you, Boris," I said solemnly.
"Now go home and test that," he said. "If it's not like you want, let me know. I think it fits you, though. I think you're ready to become the Phoenix."
"I think she's already there," Kanik bragged for me.
"And thank you for helping stop the Moles," Cyril said. "It's more than many people in Lorsa have done."
Boris patted his arm again. "You are good at this, boy. Very good. Now take me home. My back's tired. Not used to standing up this long."
"Okay, Grampa," Cyril said, wrapping an arm around Boris's back to lead him away.
"And that," Zasen said, leaning over to whisper in my ear, "was him making sure the entire town knows you have his whole family's approval. The opinion of the scribes is important, Ayla, and it seems you've made a good one."
"I just hope I'm really helping," I admitted. "I'm even more scared now that I could be wrong."
"And if you are, we'll deal with it," Kanik assured me. "What matters most is that you're trying. You aren't ignoring the problem. You're trying to do something about it."
Seventy-TwoAyla
When we got home, the first thing I wanted to do was test out my sign. Zasen headed for the weapon closet and pulled out my bow. It was unstrung, but the wood was wide and thick enough for the thumbprint-sized design to fit on the side.
"It's yours," he told me. "So mark it. Let's see what your phoenix looks like."
They had to teach me how, but it seemed these things were meant to be used as a stamp. Pressing the surface against the wood wasn't enough. I needed something heavy - a mallet in this case - to tap the top. That was why it was shaped like this.
The thin part in the middle was where my fingers could grip. The flat part at the bottom had the design. The flat space at the top was meant to be tapped to make an indention. And when I lifted the die, I saw a rising phoenix drawn in the most intricate detail left on the wood below.
"It's beautiful," I breathed.
"Perfect for you," Rymar agreed.
"And if it ever gets dull, Boris or Cyril can fix that," Kanik assured me. "So don't be afraid to use it. This is your official signature now. For paperwork, for business deals, or anything else. Once you put your sign on something, it is the same as putting your name on it."
