[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-saya-and-the-dragon":3,"chapter-saya-and-the-dragon-saya-and-the-dragon-chapter-22":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"english","Saya and the Dragon",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},1705209,2177,"Chapter 21: Words of the World","saya-and-the-dragon-chapter-22",22,"\u003Cp>The sun was out, and my feet were slapping against the warm cobblestones like two enthusiastic trout. I walked barefoot because my last pair of sandals had fallen victim to a jealous goat. Long story. Involving wine, seduction, and a market brawl. Also, I may have bet them in a game I didn’t fully understand.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Beside me, His Grumpiness limped along, scales glinting dully, one wing tucked in like a wounded swan. He’d refused to fly today. Claimed his shoulder hurt.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Old battle wound?” I asked sweetly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Sleeping on a rock shaped like betrayal,” he muttered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I watched him limp along beside me, one wing tucked in like a scandalized dowager. We must’ve looked like a traveling circus: one scaly pensioner and one barefoot harlot with a sunburnt nose.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After a while, I said, “You know, I’ve been thinking.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“That’s always a warning sign,” he muttered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I ignored him. “We’ve been to a lot of places lately. And I’ve been doing most of the talking.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You’ve been doingallof the talking.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Exactly. So, clearly, I’m the linguistic asset in this partnership.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He didn’t even look at me. “Mmm.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No, really! I’m what scholars call… polyglut.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Polyglot,” he corrected absently.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Right. That.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Prove it. Say something in Toemachan.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I beamed. “Ai yama torakai, sailor-boy.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He stopped.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You just said ‘love you long time, sailor.’”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I blinked. “Oh. Did I?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A snort of smoke curled from his nostrils. “Try again. Another language.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Sabrabenan,” I declared. “Torrai yalim, seafarer-san.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His eyebrow ridge rose. “That’s thesame phrase.Just with more syllables.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I shrugged. “Different region.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Delivdan?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Karima shonta… big tip, no questions.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Same phrase again.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It’s aclassic,okay?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He gave me a look—the kind that said he was questioning not just my education but the entire arc of his immortal life.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Do you know any phrases that aren’t about solicitation?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I gasped. “Excuse me?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You heard me. Any noble declarations of wisdom? Ancient poetry? Anythingnotmoaned through a veil in a pleasure house?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I resent that!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Resent it all you want. Every ‘language’ you know seems to revolve around… services rendered.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I huffed. “That’s not fair. I know all kinds of things.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Like how to say ‘half price until dawn’ in fourteen dialects?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I crossed my arms. “Sixteen.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Exactly.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>We walked in silence for a few steps. Well, I walked. He limped like a retired warhorse with gout and emotional baggage.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Idoknow poetry,” I said finally.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He groaned. “Here we go.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No, really. I can recite inDelivdan.That’s a noble tongue.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He muttered something about oxen dung being noble too, but I ignored him and cleared my throat.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Zharru vem talra, vem tukkal,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Putta dral mek sha’kall,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Humpa grall, winey swell,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Tippa tappa, moan and yell—”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He stopped in his tracks and gave me a long, horrified stare.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What?” I asked, blinking innocently.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“That was adirty limerick.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It’sstreet poetry,” I corrected. “Raw. From the gutters of Drahm’s Row. Very authentic.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It had a rhyme scheme built around pelvic motion.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It speaks to the human condition!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It speaks to yourcondition,” he muttered, resuming his limp-walk with a pained expression.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Fine,” I said, wounded. “You want somethinguseful?I know praise words. Flattery. Royal compliments. InToemachan.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh, I’m brimming with anticipation.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I drew myself up, shoulders proud, voice lilting like I was about to curtsy. “Aiya shentu vel’mak toi,” I purred.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He winced. “Please tell me you don’t say that often.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“All the time. One of my regulars said it means ‘Moonlight Maiden.’”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He coughed, nearly tripped. “That doesnotmean Moonlight Maiden.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It doesn’t?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He gave me a look like he was debating whether to let me keep breathing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It’s a vulgar idiom,” he said flatly. “Roughly translates to...‘the tight-lipped cave that sings at night.’”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I stared.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He nodded.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I blinked again. “Well… that’s… poetic in its own way.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Only if you’re a drunk sailor with a poetry kink.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I looked down at the cobblestones, cheeks a bit pink. “Hedidbring wine.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Of course he did.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There was a pause. Then I muttered something under my breath.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He glanced down. “What was that?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Nothing.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He narrowed his eyes. “Was that more street poetry? Or another veiled offer involving your allegedly sacred cave?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I rolled my eyes. “Forget it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No,” he said, tail twitching. “Now Imustknow.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I sighed. “Fine. I just… I was wondering ifthatphrase is why I failed the audition for the Duke’s harem.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He blinked. “Thatandthe fact that youbit the examiner.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I didnot!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You did.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“That was theothertime.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He stopped. “There was more than one?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I looked off into the horizon. “Define ‘bit.’”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He gave me a look of ancient, exhausted disbelief.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh don’t act like that,” I huffed. “He was grabbing without consent.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I thought you said it was a performance-based evaluation.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Itwas.And I performedboundaries.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He sighed so hard it stirred the dust on the road. “You are like a living scandal pamphlet.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“And yet youkeepme around.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Like a rash I can’t reach with ointment.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I smirked. “You love me.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Love is a strong word.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Like ‘tight-lipped cave’?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Don’t start.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I kicked a pebble and grumbled, “Fine. Make fun of me, Mister Educated Dragon. Make fun of a tartlet. Of a pavement flower. Just because I didn’t go to some fancy finishing school or Draconage College.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He raised a scaly brow. “Is that a real place?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Idon’t know!But if it is, they wouldn’t have let me in. I had toworkfor my bread. Real work. Hard work, Mister Dragon. On my back. On my knees.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He snorted. “I didn’t go to college.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I blinked. “You didn’t?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Dragons don’t have schools,” he said, offended at the very notion. “We don’t sit around in little desks with sharpened claws and parchment scrolls.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Then how do you know all this?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He puffed out his chest a little, which is saying something when your chest is the size of a shed. “Ancient wisdom.Passed down our bloodlines. Generation to generation.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I tilted my head. “That’s kind of lovely.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He gave me a look. “Have you ever talked to a toddler dragon?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“…No?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Obsessed little beasts. All the knowledge in the world, but nosocial filter.They’ll corner you forhoursdescribing obscure fish species and the mating calls of alpine wyverns. You cannot escape. Youcannot.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I tried to picture it — a baby dragon lecturing passionately about freshwater eels. “Oh.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh indeed,” he said with the thousand-yard stare of someone who’s been cornered by a baby cousin at a family funeral.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I started to smile.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then I asked, “So is that how you know all the dirty phrases too?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His wing twitched. “That’s frompersonalexperience.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I stopped and sat on a sun-warmed rock, leg lifted like a tragic ballerina mid-rehearsal, squinting at the sole of my foot.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“There’s asplinter,” I announced dramatically.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Behind me, the Dragon let out a noise halfway between a sigh and a death rattle. “That’s what you get for stomping barefoot through a pine grove like some half-naked dryad on a sugar high.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I glared at him over my knee. “This isyourfault. You burned that Amazon.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“She tried to spear me.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“She hadgood sandals!Thick soles. Leather straps. Arch support.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“They werethree sizes too big for you,Saya.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I dug at the splinter with a twig that was probably not medically approved. “Fashion is about compromise.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He snorted. “So is surviving a dragon attack.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I yelped as the twig snapped and jabbed something tender. “Great. Now it’s deeper. This is it. This is how I die. Infection. Sepsis. Toe rot.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He groaned. “You are not dying from a splinter.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Imight.Unless youcarryme.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There was a long pause.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“My shoulder still hurts,” he muttered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I froze. “Excuse me?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He stretched—very pointedly, very theatrically—and added, “Rheumatism. From the last cold snap.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I narrowed my eyes. “Are you telling me I’mtoo heavy?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No,” he said quickly. “You’re… dense.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I gasped. “Rude!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Not like that!” he backpedaled. “Dense like… compact. Full of… potential energy.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Ihaven’t eaten anythingsince yesterday morning!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You had wild apples.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Wild apples don’t count.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“They’re technically food.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“They’re technicallyair in fruit cosplay.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He sniffed. “I’m sorry. Next time I’ll roast you a goat in a wine reduction.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Next time,” I said, still picking at my foot, “you don’t set fire to women with decent footwear.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I finally yanked the splinter out with a victorious hiss and flung it into the grass. “There. Now you can carry me.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He blinked. “Youjustsaid it doesn’t hurt anymore.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No,” I said sweetly, holding up the foot like a relic, “I said the splinter’s out. I’m still emotionally wounded.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He stared at me.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I blinked prettily.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He turned away, grumbling something about “back pain” and “should’ve joined a monastery.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I reached for my pack—empty except for lint and regret—and sighed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Still hungry.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Still dramatic.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I hopped off the rock, limped exactly three steps, and groaned. “Ugh. Nope. Can’t walk. Foot’s cursed.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He sighed like a martyr. “Fine.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He lowered a wing, muttering under his breath.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I grinned, hopped aboard, and patted his neck. “You’re such a good beast.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Don’t talk.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Strong, majestic beast.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Still don’t talk.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“My dense, rheumatic hero.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Iwilldrop you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No, you won’t,” I purred. “Because then you’d have to listen to me scream about it all the way down.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He growled, lifted off, and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like,“One day, I swear, gravity will be my accomplice.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But his flight was smooth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His wing curled a little tighter around me.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And I didn’t say it aloud…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…but hetotallyliked carrying me.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even if I was compact and emotionally fragile.\u003C\u002Fp>",1564,"2026-06-06T14:39:25.900Z",1,"novelbin.me","30b670ec3d22330b6aebcd046e05d47f15d7455f32eb8c3e02973df8fb571584","saya-and-the-dragon-chapter-23","saya-and-the-dragon-chapter-21",228,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fsaya-and-the-dragon-cover.jpg"]