The Door into Shadow (41 page)

Astronomers—and, of course, sorcerers and people with the blue Fire—are cognizant of such lunar functions as node crossings and regression of nodes, apogee and perigee and advance of the perigee point, librations and nutations, and eclipses both lunar and solar, such being important to their work. But (and very sensibly) no one has ever particularly cared about what the lunar calendar does in relation to the solar one. The only real notice taken of alignment between the two is in mention of Nineteen-Years’ Night, when the Moon is full on Opening Night and wreaking with sorcery or Fire is particularly potent.

There is a tendency for Moon cycles to be referred to by name, the names differing from area to area. For example, the first full Moon of Spring, and the days following it from waning to dark to new crescent to full again, is usually called the “Song Moon” in Arlen, while some Darthenes call it the “Unicorn’s Moon,” and some others, the “Maiden’s Moon” or the “Mad Moon.” Special note is taken of the Harvest Moon in most places, both because of the shortening of its rising time and in memory of the bloody harvest cut at Bluepeak during one of its risings an age ago; the full Moon that follows the Harvest Moon is always the Lion’s or Eagle’s Moon, in Earn’s and Héalhra’s memory.

Since the memory of the times before the Catastrophe has largely been lost, years are counted from the coming of the Dragons and the destruction of the Dark, and noted by number and the abbreviation for
pai Ajnedäre derüwin,
“after the Arrival.” An example: Segnbora’s birthday is Spring the 57th, 2098 p.a.d.

***

The Dragons are perhaps purposely vague about their very beginnings. “Thinking about a time before their own consciousness,” d’Welcaen reports, “makes them nervous.” But the earliest Dracon memories recall a time when the Homeworld was populated by plant-analogs and other life forms. There was a food chain, and Dragons had use for the internal organs which now exist only in extremely debased vestigial forms.

Somewhere along the line—possibly due to changes in the Homeworld’s orbit, or in its star’s characteristics – the planet’s seas began to evaporate, and its atmosphere to strip off. The Dragons report this as having taken many thousands of their lifetimes. Converting this time to human standards is difficult, and gives answers ranging from one to six million years. This may seem like quite a while, but it isn’t really, for an organism whose average generation is from four to six thousand years. The Dragons had to adapt in a hurry to the changes in their environment.

Exactly how they did it so quickly is another question for which there is no clear answer; no
mdeihei
native to such ancient times remain extant in the Dragons’ minds. Rodmistresses and other Fire-using adepts who have been working with Dragons since the events following the Advocate’s intervention in 2927 p.a.d. have determined that the species possesses its own variant of Power, of which Dragonflame occasionally becomes an embodiment. Given this, they say, and given time enough and intention, the changes themselves are no mystery, though the details will always remain a matter of interest. Yet when the DragonChief was asked about the instrumentality involved in the change, the only answer to come back was straightforward (and to the Dracon mind, obvious): “The Immanence did it.” To the Dragons, miracle, as in the cultures of the Middle Kingdoms, is seen as part of the natural order—a tool occasionally used without prejudice by a God who has better things to do than be otiose.

Already silicon-boron based—and what their ancient atmosphere and “seas” consisted of is still a matter for conjecture—the Dragons’ evolution went or was taken in the most efficient possible direction. Their anatomy began adjusting toward extreme lightness, for maximum efficiency in soaring in search of food. As food got scarcer due to increased irradiation, mutations became common—including possibly the most successful one of all, the alteration of silane rings in the black wing-membranes to effectively turn them into giant solar cells, using already-existing neural pathways for conduction of generated bioelectricity. Dragons born with this mutation needed no food in the old sense. They thrived and multiplied, soaring further and further sunward for nourishment. The increased irradiation seems to have induced more gene changes and mutations in brain physiology, so that the “highflyers” became increasingly able to manipulate “force”—magnetic fields, gravitational fields, and other instrumentalities less classifiable to humans. Organs used for digestion, respiration, and elimination slowly went vestigial until finally the Dragon as we now know it was complete—an efficient, flying energy-storage machine, spaceworthy, tolerant of extreme high and low temperatures (as had become commonplace on the Homeworld), and able to express that energy as Dragonfire and use it as tool and weapon.

The reasons for that particular manifestation are debatable, but d’Welcaen suggests that Dragons feel about their mouths as humans feel about their hands. Dracon psychology says that language is the primary means of effective survival: which perhaps explains why, even after their version of telepathy developed, the Dragons never gave up communication by way of vocal speech. Even their tongues still work after all these centuries—though they’re not necessary: Dracon sound generation long ago went over to non-acoustic mechanisms like those of whales. Fluid-filled or stressed-solid-filled cavities stimulated by “muscle” contraction, or catalytic chemical reactions, or neural/membrane synergies, or all three, allow Dragons to communicate with precision and stunning variation in almost any medium except empty space, and also permit the super-prolonged hisses, three- to eighteen-tone chords, and choral-verbal speech for which they’re best known.

Dragonfire, according to d’Welcaen, is a phenomenon originally closely allied to “manipulation of force”, a matter no more complicated for a Dragon than breathing – a Dragoncel can flame before it can talk. In the very beginning, this would have been a survival skill: but a Dragon’s ability to melt several tons of lead-bearing stone over itself to protect it from a starstorm – or blast out of the covering again – is not a necessity in the Dragons’ new homeworld. (Indeed, the Dracon name for the Sun that shines on the Middle Kingdoms is
hh-Aass’te’re,
“the Shallows” – a warm, cozy little star, tame and safe compared to the mad fire of the Homestar in its last days.) These days, Dragonfire is for show, for building, for
nn’s’raihle
, and – when words fail at last – for mating fights and the most serious disagreements, when the hottest fire decides who will win the discussion or reproduce, and who will go very suddenly
mdahaih.

****

Diane Duane has been a writer of science fiction, fantasy, TV and film for more than thirty years.

Besides the 1980’s creation of the
Young Wizards fantasy series
for which she’s best known, the “Middle Kingdoms” epic fantasy series, and numerous stand-alone fantasy or science fiction novels, her career has included extensive work in the Star Trek
^TM
universe, and many scripts for live-action and animated TV series on both sides of the Atlantic, as well as work in comics and computer games. She has spent a fair amount of time on the New York
Times
Bestseller List, and has picked up various awards and award nominations here and there.

She lives in County Wicklow, in Ireland, with her husband of more than twenty years, the screenwriter and novelist
Peter Morwood.

A more complete biography is
here:
DD’s full bibliography / filmography is
here.

Her favorite color is blue, her favorite food is a weird kind of Swiss scrambled-potato dish called
maluns
, she was born in a Year of the Dragon, and her sign is "Runway 24 Left, Hold For Clearance." She can often be found Tweeting about this and that at
@dduane
.

For more info on other works by Diane Duane, visit

http://www.dianeduane.com