“I don’t understand,” Adelind said. Her voice reverberated in the air, like far-off thunder on a muggy summer afternoon.
“Well, I don’t know why,” replied Tomin. “It really is very simple. You need to expand your catchment area or you’ll find yourself in the position of having a dwindling populace with diminishing resources and no prospect of producing more.”
Adelind eyed the young man suspiciously. He wasn’t much to look at. Tall, but thin and weedy. His hair flopped untidily around the edge of a face that was still fresh and unlined by real responsibility or age. She wasn’t used to having her authority challenged. When it was, then the tone was respectful, even fearful. No one had ever implied she was stupid before, even accidentally.
She hummed, the noise was more like a small warning growl. Tomin appeared oblivious and carried on.
“Look, I’ve spent the last three years studying economics. The situation here is that you are a single large accumulator. Everything in the region comes to you. All potential competition has been driven away.”
“That sounds exactly like what I want.”
Tomin sighed.
Adelind blinked, and asked, “Sorry, do I bore you?”
“No, no,” he replied, oblivious to the chill in her tone. “I just figured that you would…” He tailed off and tapped his teeth with his fingers.
Adelind watched, transfixed. Part of her screamed to roast the impertinent stripling right now; the other part was fascinated, hooked on finding out how far his oblivious disrespect would go. She determined that whatever the outcome, the person who had allowed this situation would suffer.
“Right,” he started again, like a teacher trying to elucidate a simple point to a particularly dim student, “at present you are on a downward spiral. This year you have got less than last year. Next year you’ll get less than this year. That’s a cycle that can only continue for so long. You must have realised this.”
Adelind rumbled assent. It was something she had noticed.
“Right now you have people who still have something moving out of the region as quickly as they can. The ones left have little or nothing indeed, many of them are relying on handouts.”
“So long as they have something, then there is something to come my way.”
“But you can have more!” Tomin waved his arms excitedly. “This is what I have been trying to say. Widen your area. Instead of taking everything from a small region, expand outwards and take a little from each place. You get to have more than you do now, and a constant replenishing supply.” He stopped. His eyes sparkled with evangelical zeal. Smiling he nodded his head, an affirmative movement to nudge her towards agreement. “You see? You see?”
Adelind twisted her neck back and forth, easing off her muscles. She could see the point he was making. Still, it just wasn’t in her nature. Take everything, every time, was the way she did it.
But he was right about needing to expand. She would get on to that immediately. Well, nearly immediately. There was just the matter of his cavalier tone to deal with, and whomever was responsible for sending him. What to do though. What was a suitable punishment?
She looked at him, smiling and nodding at her like a puppy eager for praise. She hated dogs, their dander irritated her breathing. Her lungs expanded as oxygen flowed into them. She unfurled her wings to provide stability, and covered him with a gout of yellow and red flame.
He had time to recognise what was happening but not enough to move, nor even scream.
An original story and photograph by Stuart C Turnbull.