White Road

death. But you might not die if you return to the source of this creature. If you do go that way, then you must destroy the source, lest any more such creatures be made.”
    Alec’s mouth went dry. “I—I am his source.”
    “No, you were only the means, Alec Two Lives. Words are the source of alchemy. Destroy the words and no more such creatures can be made.”
    “Words?” asked Micum.
    “Books!” said Alec. “Yhakobin’s workshop was full of books. And there was one on his worktable—a big red one, with a picture of a rhekaro in it. I never saw Yhakobin use a wand or an incantation, just his symbols and metals—and me. But there were always books open on his worktables, and he’d refer to them while he worked. But to destroy it—”
    “We’d have to go get it,” Seregil finished for him. “And if we don’t?”
    “Then you cannot destroy it,” said the dragon.
    Alec suspected it was unwise to be impatient with a dragon of any size. “But what will happen if we don’t?” he asked as politely as he could.
    “The future is not written, Alec Two Lives. The Lightbringer reveals only what can be, not what will be. Destroy it, or don’t. The choice is yours.”
    “But if we do find it, whatever it is, will it tell us what Sebrahn really is?” Alec asked, frustrated now.
    “That you know, little friend. He is unlike anything that has been or will be. The question is, what will
you
do with him?”
    “But we came to ask you!” Alec cried.
    The dragon did not answer. Raising its great head, it snapped up one of the dragons that had been resting on its back and swallowed it whole. Then, without another word, it stretched out in the position they’d found it in and heaved a great sigh that shook the ground again.
    “He’s finished, cousin,” Tyrus told Alec. “It’s time to go.”
    “But—”
    “It’s all right, Alec,” said Seregil, setting off down thesteep trail with the others. Alec picked up Sebrahn and followed.
    The rhekaro looked back over Alec’s shoulder, pointing. “Drak-kon!”
    “Yes,” Alec said, feeling a little shaky now as the full import of what he’d just done set in. “It certainly is.”
    When they reached the cabin, Tyrus took up his pipe again. The small dragon flew down to curl up in his lap. Sebrahn stood beside his chair, stroking the little dragon as he had the giant one.
    Alec sat with his chin in his hands, feeling dazed. “How can what the dragon said about me be true?”
    Tyrus smiled. “Young Alec, do you know the origin story?”
    “I think so. The sun pierced the Great Dragon with a spear and eleven drops of blood fell on Aurënen. The first Aurënfaie sprang up where the blood fell—the eleven major clans.”
    “That’s right. And though it was the same blood for all, each drop fell on different soil, and that’s how we came to differ.”
    “But how could the Hâzadriëlfaie be more—dragonish than any other clan?”
    “That’s the great question, isn’t it, cousin? But then, even in the same clan, everyone does not have the same magic—or even any magic at all. For those who share the same type, though, it usually grows stronger when people of the same talents come together. It must have been like that with Hâzadriël’s followers, bound by the blood that brought them together and drove them north. Those of the Hâzadriëlfaie blood must have more of the Dragon in them than most.”
    “You mean the origin story really is true?” asked Alec.
    “There must be some truth to it, or we wouldn’t have been telling it for thousands of years. Nothing appears out of nothing, as far as I know, and we are linked inextricably to the dragons.”
    “And Alec has more of that Great Dragon blood in his veins,” Seregil noted, frowning.
    “And Tír, and then there’s the dragon kiss there on his ear,” Tyrus pointed out. “You may be just as unique as your rhekaro, Alec. Your alchemist chose to ignore that.”
    “Then that’s why Sebrahn didn’t turn out the way he intended?”
    “So it appears.” Tyrus gazed down at Sebrahn and stroked his hair as Sebrahn continued to pat the dragon. “Do you understand that he is nothing like you, either, Alec? He’s just magic with a form that resembles you.”
    “But he thinks. He has a mind. What
is
he?” asked Alec. “Your dragon didn’t tell me that.”
    “He did,” Tyrus replied. “Sebrahn is the first and last of his kind, unless another alchemist finds the means to use your blood