is such a blessing, you cannot believe it. Usually they deal with their problems without delay.
“Hence the detail about my entrails?”
“Indeed. If only you had wings!”
“Aye, meantime, I’ll climb down into the caldera, walk barefoot across the lava flows to the next Island, holding my breath all the way, and climb that one? Or shall I just hitch my belt to a passing windroc?”
He blinked his eye membranes at her sarcasm.
“Oh, Islands’ sakes! I’m sorry, Flicker. I’m not angry with you.”
Flicker wondered if the Ancient One would have a clever idea for how a Human girl could escape an inescapable Island. Could she build herself a gliding apparatus and soar across on the thermals? Flag down a passing Dragonship? They had to assume that all Human Dragonships belonged to Ra’aba. Attracting his attention would spell an ugly end for his friend–just as abrupt and messy an end as that Dragon, by all law, logic and legend, should have dealt her. What did this portend? He shook his head as though he had an insect stuck in his ear-canal.
Poor Lia. Her heart was so wrapped up in her people, just as a dragonet’s hearts were tied to his warren and Dragon-kin. Yet, there was a quality about the Human girl he simply could not place his paw upon. She was never deceitful, but she was mysterious. Aye, by his wings, that word suited her like wings suited a dragonet’s back. Could it be that in hurling himself off the cliff after her, he had thrown himself into the greatest adventure of his life? Of any dragonet’s lifetime? The thought of the praise-songs the dragonet-kind would compose to acclaim his deeds filled Flicker’s belly with warm, pleasant fire.
The dragonet suggested, “You could flaunt yourself without any coverings. Wouldn’t that attract every Human male within a hundred league radius to your aid?”
“Flicker!” The girl’s eyes filled with fire. “You are in so much trouble!”
She chased him around the cavern, calling down hilarious mock-curses upon him as the dragonet evaded her grasping fingertips. Eventually, Flicker allowed himself to be caught and chastised.
That was when they heard Dragons roaring deep beneath the Island, like the sound of a faraway waterfall.
Chapter 8: Within Ha’athior
THREE DAYS OF enforced hiding were enough to drive her up the proverbial cliff-face, while the Dragons’ unending, thunderous song trembled the Island so violently that Lia kept casting distrustful glances at the cavern roof. Hualiama taught Flicker the dances from the Flame Cycle, her favourite dance-opera, but the baritone parts put her in mind of her brother Ari. Artless, trusting Ari. He would not understand why they needed to live in exile–if her family did indeed live.
“You’ve the patience of a dragonet hatchling,” said Flicker.
Lia demonstrated the dying flame pirouette.
“And the brains of a mosquito,” he added.
“I can recount the twenty-eight warren scents in order for you, if you like,” said Lia, with an exaggerated sniff of disdain. “Danger, trouble, confusion, gathering-together, deep-meeting, kinship first-degree, friendship, companionship, courtship …”
“Any monkey can parrot words without understanding.”
“I think you’re getting your animals confused,” said Lia. “I’m a straw-head, remember?”
Actually, her hair was starting to resemble straw. She had no Palace soaps and oils here to make her hair soft and lustrous, nor servants to scrub it for her and spend an hour brushing out the knots. Lia had learned a form of patience–during the inevitable, endless primping demanded of Princesses and enforced by their Queen-mothers, she designed Dragonship parts in her head or chased Dragons through the fiery suns-set skies of her imagination.
Tanned, bare-legged, dagger-wielding Princesses who ate spit-roast lemur for dinner and slurped down raw cliff-lark eggs, were not the currency of conservative Fra’anior.
Flicker raised his head. “It’s gone quiet out there.”
So it had. Lia nodded. “Do you think it might be safe? Please scout, Flicker.”
“Of course.” The dragonet managed an in-flight swagger as he nipped out of the cave.
She was just returning to her dance when a high-pitched squeal of alarm from outside, arrested her mid-leap. Lia darted to the cave entrance and peered up the tunnel, squinting at the full-suns brightness at the end of the short entryway. Where was Flicker? Did he need help?
Flicker shot back toward her at ten times the speed he had departed, crying, Dragon, Dragon, Dragon …
Another Dragon? Or, could the compassionate Dragon have returned?
Get underwater!
Lia gaped at Flicker. “What?”
The pool! Go! Hide in the water!
And with that, he raced further down the tunnel.
Indecision froze her feet. No, only one Dragon knew where and who she