Being trapped underground probably does strange things to a Dragon’s mind.”
Silly, overprotective monk. He was sweet, but it rankled when he treated her as a child. “I’ll be very careful,” she promised. “No offering to polish his fangs.”
Ja’al’s sour expression suggested Lia should take his warning more seriously.
Inniora asked, “So, there are twenty forms of Nuyallith, of which Ja’al has so far taught you two?”
“Twenty basic forms, aye, and several hundred advanced forms beyond those,” said Lia, binding her eyes. “Each form is a prescribed set of movements, much as a dance is choreographed. Master Khoyal says that when I have performed each form ten thousand times, perfectly, I’ll have written the movements into my muscle memory and should be able to reproduce them instinctively, without need for thought.”
“The path to mastery lies through pain,” said Ja’al, imitating his uncle Jo’el.
“What does Nuyallith mean, anyway?” asked Lia.
“The way of dancing on air,” said Inniora.
Ja’al quipped, “Sounds deadly.”
Glowering in the direction of Inniora’s voice, Hualiama held out her hands. “Give me those reeds, brother Ja’al. I’m going to slice you both into ribbons.”
* * * *
Lia dressed rapidly for her foray that evening, more excited than she had been in a long while. Ja’al was excited too. “Sapphurion is making an official visit tomorrow!” he yelled, dashing out of the cave for a meeting of the monks.
Sapphurion? So, the rumours of war between the Dragons might be true. For certain there was open war between the Dragonkind and the Humans of the Eastern Isles–that had been simmering and occasionally flaring up for years. Now, if she could rescue the Tourmaline Dragon in time for Sapphurion’s visit …
Yualiana had delivered the promised clothes, and Lia had to admit, this outfit was a vast improvement on baggy monk trousers and shirts five sizes too large for her. “Undergarments that actually fit,” she muttered drolly. “Novel.” Beneath a dark emerald-green skirt, split all the way up to her thighs to allow ease of movement, Lia wore dark fitted leggings and light slippers, the toughened and slightly tacky footwear the monks wore for infiltration and espionage training. A matching green tunic top, covering her shoulders but leaving the upper arms bare, had been tailored for a feminine physique. “Very tasteful,” she approved. Armoured wristlets covered her hands and arms from knuckles to elbow. The right sported a half-dozen throwing blades cunningly concealed against her inner arm. “Sweet.”
Hualiama braided and coiled her platinum hair, and concealed it beneath a dark scarf. Beneath a two- or three-moons night sky, it would shine like a beacon, otherwise.
She was ready.
“Islands’ greetings, Lady Blade,” Inniora whistled softly as Lia stepped through into their main cavern.
“This is wonderful, Inniora. Thank you!”
“Did you find the lock picks?”
“No …”
“Left wristlet. Oh, and Ja’al suggested a flexible saw, several files, and skeleton keys. Here are your forked daggers–a proper matched pair now, thanks to a raid on the armoury.”
Lia smiled at Inniora’s enthusiasm. “What do you expect me to be doing?”
“Hmm … burgling a palace to depose a traitor? And, I designed a few extra pockets for concealment. Places no man would dare to look.” She winked at Lia. “Inner thigh, tucked inside the bodice–it’s the new fashion, girl-monk attire. Take a peek down your top.”
“Ooh, are those weapons?”
“Well, Princess. My brother certainly thinks so.”
“Blast it, you wretch,” Hualiama groaned. “I walked smack into that one.”
Waving her hands excitedly, Inniora explained, “You’ll find pockets in the bodice seams for pepper sacks, gemstones, vials of poison, money or anything else you wish to conceal, and plenty of room in the middle as you enjoy–” she chuckled at her friend’s affronted expression “–certain natural advantages. That’s a bundle of poisoned darts you see there. What do you think?”
“I’m glad we’re on the same side, you Cloudlands pirate.”
Lia received a hearty whack on the shoulder for that comment. “Go stir us up a Dragon!”
Emerging from a trapdoor hidden amidst the rocks behind the monastery building, Lia ghosted along behind the ancient prekki trees, keeping to the deepening shadows. Flicker’s rowdy band of dragonets had delivered in spectacular style in the late afternoon. Even now, they celebrated over the lake in a welter of enthusiasm, swirling and diving and chirping up such a storm that the evening’s habitual avian chorus was entirely drowned out.
Smiling, she ducked down the stairway. Flicker met her at the bottom, the fire in his eyes churning more vigorously than ever.
You’re the greatest dragonet genius ever to fly the skies of the Island-World! she