Island. Father, Mother, may I present our esteemed Master Jo’el, the monks Hallon and Rallon, and–”
“Shut the door, Hallon,” said Master Jo’el.
As the door creaked shut, Ga’athar addressed Hualiama with a jovial smile, “It seems our monks grow younger by the year. Was this your first battle, boy?”
“My first, aye,” she said, quietly.
Yualiana’s eyes narrowed as she turned from Lia to Master Jo’el. “Aye, a petite and very pretty monk, brother–oh! Heavens above and Islands below … it can’t be, we heard … no, no …”
“She looks better without the beard,” said Ja’al.
“Aye?”
One word from Yualiana, and her son began to steam around the ears. He sat down at the table with a thump, finding some fascinating detail on the opposite wall to engage his attention.
Next, Yualiana glared at her brother. “You great ralti sheep, our house is in such a state and you, you bring home …”
Fancy, for once, even Master Jo’el seemed flustered. He joined Ja’al at the table, while Hualiama looked on with astonishment. Someone could do that to Master Jo’el?
“Lia,” said the Princess.
With a preposterously fancy bow, such as Hualiama had not even seen the most fawning of courtiers possess the coordination to produce, Ga’athar said, “By all accounts, you gave a fine account of yourself in the battle today, your–”
“Just Lia, please.”
“I saw her leading Hallon and Rallon a merry dance,” said Master Jo’el. Shuffling their feet, the giant twins found their seats with alacrity. “You may remove your hood, Lia.”
Yualiana took Lia’s hand to kiss her knuckles. “Our household is deeply honoured. King Chalcion never made occasion to visit the Nameless Man. I assume that is why we are graced with the presence of–”
“A royal ward,” said Hualiama, with a brittle smile. “In reality, I’m as ordinary as … ah, without offence, I mean, anyone else. The monks have certainly thrashed me enough times …”
‘Ordinary?’ Ja’al inquired with his eyes, causing her sentence to trail off into silence. “Father, shall I see if the Nameless Man will receive Hualiama?”
Ga’athar nodded; Ja’al disappeared behind the curtain. Hualiama heard him dispensing fond kisses to his siblings, before a door creaked and all went quiet. Ja’al’s father said, “Princess, your intelligence was accurate. About an hour ago, several captives we interrogated confessed to being Ra’aba’s men. This was clearly Ra’aba’s plot all along–to force us to commit our warriors in the fight against the Dragons, or to destroy us.”
“Aye,” said Master Jo’el, making a tent of his long fingers, a habit of his. “He’s without conscience. Ra’aba has also demanded our warriors join his forces.”
“There’s open war?” asked Hualiama.
“Aye,” grunted Ga’athar, “but not here, not yet. Over in the East, the Kingdom of Kaolili fights Dragons constantly. A month ago, Lyrx’s main city was attacked and sacked–by renegade Dragons, we’re told. That’s over five thousand people! Six months ago, Telstroy Island fared little better. Half of their main town was reduced to cinders. Sapphurion–”
“The Dragon Elder, the leader of all Dragons,” Master Jo’el explained.
“Aye, Sapphurion would have us believe he’s fighting these renegade Dragons and protecting us. And just this last week, news reached us of four villages just south of Gi’ishior, plundered and set ablaze by an entire Dragonwing of feral Dragons.” Ga’athar’s hands twisted into fists. “It was an annihilation. Pure, wilful murder. Just as would have transpired here, at the hand of our own people, Princess, had you not intervened.”
Lia shifted uncomfortably on her seat. The false beard itched mightily, but Master Jo’el had commanded her to keep it in place. She muttered, “Master Jo’el leads the monks, not me.”
Jo’el’s lean hand rose to indicate the curtain.
“Oh.”
Her soft gasp preceded her as she brushed past the densely-worked lace hanging. As Lia passed into the small, dim room beyond, she heard Yualiana say, rather acidly, “A girl at the monastery, brother? How’s that been?”
“Educational,” said Jo’el, dryly.
“I’d wager on that!” his sister snorted.
“She’s an extraordinary young lady. Quite remarkable.”
Lia’s ears burned at the Master’s praise.
Ja’al clasped her fingers. “This way.”
Her eyes had no chance to adjust to the dimness before he swept her through a well-hidden doorway into a completely blackened room. Hualiama sensed the presence of men with weapons. Then, a metal door scraped open and bright candlelight dazzled her eyes.
The room was bare, save for a green rush pallet in the centre, and a flat floor cushion off to one side. Lia’s eyes moved first to the cushion, where a girl of about her own age knelt beside a half-size harp, her curly