Tish started seeing the coat with a new light. In a horrible sickening light.
"Usually fire-aligned dragons like him should shed in late summer or early atutumn- depending on the temperature availability - much like their reptile ancestors of Parthan Region. Shedding requires adequate moisture, when humidity is at peak," Saroth kept talking as if they were discussing a fascinating topic or how a teacher talked in a class to the students about a subject matter he himself found interesting, "Those are translucent things nothing like what you are holding in your hands. This one. Is a rarity."
"Because this one. Was shedded in winter."
Tish wasn't even sure why he was tutoring her on the matter of Rudra's unnatural shedding. She didn't even want to ask why.
"And look at what an extraordinary thing we have got because of that," his eyes remained fixed on the coat, "When you wear this coat, it feels like you are wearing a Dragon's Skin!"
Tish looked down at the coat again- the material of which had been unnatural shed of a young dragon and preserved with almost worshipful devotion.
He was watching him- Tish could feel it- that Saroth was watching every minute of Tish's expression- with genuinely curious eyes.
The coat was almost light-weight in her hands. There was no life in it ofcourse. The life was almost gone. But something in the coat made her eyes sting- as if it still contained the specific signature of a child's terror.
She didn't need to know exactly what had happened when Rudra had been six. She didn't want to feel sorry for Rudra. She didn't.
So she offers the coat back to Saroth, "This isn't something which I can accept." He looked surprised, "Why?" He asked. But then he drew his own conclusion, ''You think this-" his eyes dropped to the coat, he hadn't taken it back ofcourse- "this is something cruel?"
Tish didn't answer. But she refused to look away from him.
"He had an issue with his transformation," started Saroth, "His body had to be forced. He needed my help. Just like how he needed my help a few days back to turn back to his human form."
For a second the memory of finding Rudra in the cave flashed in Tish's head. Looking awfully small despite being an enormous man. The roar she had heard that day had permanently ingrained in her mind.
"If help comes in the form of torture," Tish said before she was even thinking, "I don't think we require that kind of help."
Before her Percival shifted his weight, a small almost quiet gesture which showed he didn't exactly support her atleast in this particular statement but he couldn't protest either. Tish knew this was a conversation they were going to have sooner or later. But not now.
"Saintess," His voice was patient, unbeatably, suffocatingly patient, "Healing sometimes cause hurt. I thought you, of all people had a better understanding of it than the rest."
He was right. And Tish hated that she was right.
He continued, knowing Tish couldn't argue, ''Being a Healer is difficult. Having a gift of treating injuries and yet expected to feel every wound of your patient - as though they were your own," he sounded exhausted. He shook his head, "It creates a blockage- one that most of the healers never overcome. But you are not like most of them. I have seen you working at the Sanctum of Miracles. I could see it in your eyes that you, though have been chosen by the heaven itself to fulfill the duty of caring for sick, do not particularly enjoy it."
"I have my reasons," Tish said. She wanted to say how most people who had the opportunity of receiving her service, didn't really require the same. But she couldn't. Saroth was watching her, almost hungrily. He wanted her to share her troubles with him. He wanted her to express his vulnerabilities.
So she didn't. Saroth kept staring for several seconds before he uttered:
"I am sure you do."
Again. He wasn't mad. He wasn't demanding. It was like he had already decided the person Tish was going to be and was just waiting for Tish to reach to that conclusion.
In his head he was already right- in his way of treating Rudra, in his way of reading Tish, in everything and it was just the rest of the world which had yet to figure it out.
"I believe we have far more important matters to discuss than the childhood incident of the Dragon Prince," Percival said curtly, "We have been informed you were the one who made the poison which knocked Rudra Azhdar for several minutes?"
Saroth nodded, "I did yes," he agreed, "I needed to create a circumstance where he'll need me again. Dragons....those arrogant narcissistic creatures see the rest of the world as if it is beneath them, as if I am beneath him. I needed to remind him that he still needs me."
"I don't care," said Percy rather flatly, "I care for the poison which can knock a dragon up not just for few minutes but longer."
"How long?"
"Permanently."
Saroth's lips twitched, "I am afraid that is not possible-"
"The Rān himself," Percival cut in sharply, "is literally paying you to do that."
"He is paying me for the poison yes," nodded Saroth, "But not for the Dragon. For humans."
Neither Tish nor Percival could speak. Saroth took their silence as an invitation to elaborate his plan, "Well, whether it is a poison or a miracle is yet to be decided," he looked away at the vials, "Something which will evolve a human being enough that he is able to stand his ground against a dragon."
"That....is that possible?" Percival, who was usually so calm and confident, stuttered.
"It already has happened actually," Said Saroth, "The Shapeshifter Species of Parthan Region has already gone through it where they skipped millions of years of evolution in just two thousand years. Their lot ingested draconic essence- their nails, shedded skin, saliva and others over several centuries and surpassed human species easily."
"Have you seen one?" Percy asked.
"She has cohabited with one," said Saroth, eyes on Tish.
"What?"
"During your stay in Partha," Saroth smiled, "You met a wonderful lady named Saya, haven't you?"
Tish couldn't nod.
"That one. Was a shapeshifter.''