Dragon and Herdsman

Now, to his mild surprise, he discovered that nothing could be further from the truth. Though yesterday's travels had hinted at it, it was only during this second day that he began to realize just how different the Phookas were from one another.

They had markedly different personalities, for one thing. Some were very obedient, even docile, while others were stubbornly independent. Some seemed to plod along with little interest in their surroundings, while others could be distracted by the slightest hint of something new or interesting.

The curious ones, he found, were relatively easy to bring back to the main group. All he had to do was let them get their fill of the latest plant or bug, at which point they could be led back to the fold. The fiercely independent ones, the ones who wandered off simply because they felt like it, required a firmer hand or a more diplomatic approach if Jack didn't want to get a warning snap of tooth-filled jaws for his trouble.

Fortunately, none of them actually bit him. With a little trial and error, he eventually worked out ways to handle even the most stubborn ones.

Jack had grown up among the thieves and con artists and killers of the Orion Arm's criminal underworld. His adventures with Draycos over the past three and a half months had added soldiers and slaves to that list of acquaintances. The laid-back Erassvas and their Phooka companions made for a welcome change of pace.

"I could get used to this," he commented to Alison during one of their brief rest breaks. "Maybe when this is all over I'll buy a flock or herd of something and go into business for myself."

She snorted. "You'd last two weeks," she said. "After that, it would drive you crazy. You're not the herdsman type."

"You might be surprised," Jack said, annoyed in spite of himself that she would dismiss the idea so quickly.

"Oh, I'm surprised all the time," she countered calmly. "But not about something like this. Trust me."

The day continued uneventfully, and as the forest's twilight began to darken Alison found a slightly protected hollow for them to camp in for the night. Again Jack volunteered to check the perimeter; and as he did so, he related his earlier conversation with Alison to Draycos.

"She's right," Draycos said when he'd finished. "There are people who have the skill and patience to spend their lives taking care of animals. But you are not one of them."

"Yeah, but I'm good at it," Jack insisted. "You've seen me. I could do this."

The K'da lifted his head slightly from Jack's shoulder. "I do not understand your attitude," he said. "Are you saying you would want this sort of job?"

Jack hesitated. "Well . . . no, probably not," he had to admit. "I just don't like everyone taking for granted that I couldn't do it."

"Of course you could handle the job, at least for a short time," Draycos said. "Indeed, as you just pointed out, you are doing it. The average intelligent being can perform an amazingly wide range of activities when it is necessary. What I meant—and I presume what Alison meant, as well—was that a herdsman's job is not what you are best suited for."

"No, I'm best suited to be a thief and con man," Jack said, grimacing. "That's what Uncle Virgil always told me, anyway."

"Uncle Virgil had his own reasons for saying such things," Draycos said. "You have many talents, Jack. When the time comes, you will find the job that best fits you."

Jack sighed. "Maybe."

"There is no 'maybe' about it," Draycos said firmly. "Why do you doubt?"

"Because I'm already fourteen years old and I still haven't figured it out," Jack said. "I'll bet you knew you were a poet long before that."

"There were some indications, yes," Draycos conceded. "Even before I could compose poems of my own, I very much loved the poetry of others."

"See, that's the thing," Jack said. "I like poetry, too, especially stuff like yours that actually rhymes. But I still couldn't write a poem to save my life."

"Have you ever tried?"

"Once, back when I was ten," Jack said. "It was pathetic. Nothing like yours or the songs my mother used to sing to me."

Draycos lifted his head from Jack's shoulder. "Your mother used to write songs?"

"I don't know whether she wrote them or just sang them," Jack said. "And I can't sing, either."

"I would like to hear one of them," Draycos said. "Do you remember any?"

Jack pursed his lips. He hadn't counted on having to give a recital. "There's one I remember pretty well," he said. "I'm not a hundred percent sure of the tune, but here are the words:

"We stand before; we stand behind;

We seek the drue with heart and mind.

From sun to sun the dross refined,

Lest any soul be cast adrift.

"We are the few who stand between

The darkness and the noontime sheen.

Our eyes and vision clear and keen:

To find the drue, we seek and sift.

"We toil alone, we bear the cost,

To soothe all those in turmoil tossed,

And give back hope, where hope was lost:

Our lives, for them, shall be our gift."