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CHAPTER FIVE:
    SLAVERY AS AN EVOLUTIONARY STRATEGY

    THE CHILL OF night yielded as the winter sun climbed in a flawless blue sky. Shay unbuttoned the collar of his coat as they stopped by a stream to allow the horses to rest. The cool fresh air felt good against his throat. The tiny puncture wounds from Zernex’s claws were scabbed up and puffy beneath his fingers. He wished he had a mirror. The grooves on the underside of a sky-dragon’s claws collected a foul-smelling goop that harbored disease. Shay hoped he hadn’t survived the encounter with the slavecatchers only to perish of some horrible illness.
    Shay was exhausted but didn’t complain when the others voted to keep going. As the day wore on they passed through three villages, all destroyed, the severed heads gathered into mounds. The tracks of earth-dragons were everywhere. They all rode in silence. Anza looked especially withdrawn, her face an emotionless mask. She had to be wondering if her home had also suffered this fate.
    Shay was also worried about the town. Had Burke’s hidden library been destroyed? He felt guilty that the fate of the books weighed so heavily on his mind, when Anza no doubt faced the loss of friends and family. He could still feel the empty hole that had opened in his gut when he saw The Origin of Species crumble to ash. How could he have been so wrong about Ragnar? The prophet had been delivering firebrand sermons calling for human rebellion for years. His words traveled throughout the kingdom as hushed whispers from slave to slave. Burke may have been the strategist who supplied the rebels with a worthy arsenal, but it was Ragnar’s vision that the rebels followed. How could such a great leader despise books?
    It was late in the evening when the dragon tracks they followed suddenly veered south, leaving the Forge Road. Ruts from a convoy of supply wagons led up the sloping hill of a field gone fallow. Shay looked toward the top of the ridge, wondering if an army was on the other side.
    “Where to you think they’ve gone?” Vance asked, pulling his horse beside Shay.
    Anza snapped her fingers and traced a wavy line in the air. Shay was puzzled by what she was attempting to convey. Anza looked frustrated, and repeated the motion.
    “A river?” Jandra asked.
    Anza nodded.
    “I’d noticed we hadn’t passed any good drinking water in several miles. They must have gone to the river to camp. How far south is the water?”
    Anza held up two fingers.
    “Two miles?” asked Jandra.
    Anza nodded.
    They all stared at the hill. The trampled ground was reasonably fresh, but whether the army had turned south an hour ago or a day ago was beyond Shay’s guess.
    Lizard stood up on Jandra’s shoulder, his head held high. He sniffed, then crouched down and assumed a brown shade that matched Jandra’s hair.
    “Bad bosses,” he whispered.
    “If they’re close enough for Lizard to smell, we should get going,” said Shay.
    “Or we should spy on them,” said Vance. “Find out how many there are. See if they’re settled in for a long stay, or just resting for a night.”
    “No,” said Jandra. “We should press on to Burke’s Tavern. Warn any towns along the way that the dragon armies are on the march and they should run.”
    “Run where?” asked Vance. “If they head toward Dragon Forge, they might run into the army.”
    “Then east,” said Jandra. “Toward Richmond. Shandrazel may be dead, but Androkom, the High Biologian, will maintain law and order around the palace. The High Biologian can command the aerial guard in the event of the king’s absence. He’ll keep the peace in his immediate vicinity, at least.”
    “You have a lot of faith in Androkom,” said Shay. “He was somewhat infamous at the College of Spires. He was a prominent abolitionist, and made a lot of enemies among the biologians. I’m not certain the other sky-dragons will obey him.”
    “I didn’t like him either,” said Jandra. “He had a