purposes and fling them to their death in the Cloudlands.
* * * *
Tiny Lia squealed happily, running into a Red Dragoness’ paw. She’s such a darling thing, said a voice.
We can’t keep her, my third heart. This was the great one, whose voice thundered with mellow, ageless wisdom. Humans are not our pets, not any longer. If their King discovers we’re secretly raising a Human on Gi’ishior Island, there would be terrible consequences–their adraconistic advisors would have all the excuse they needed for war, not to speak of our own enemies in the Council of Dragon Elders.
She’s so beautiful. So … bursting with the fires of life.
There was a silence of breaking hearts. That girl knew nothing of it, then, yet she remembered their voices.
You mourn our eggs, thou breath of my soul. The great voice sounded leaden. Just one hatchling when we dreamed of three.
That’s a truth born in fire, Sapphurion, said the Dragoness. Always, you know the flight of my wings, even when it must perforce dip into the Cloudlands with sorrow. What did Ianthine want with this one? Where did that ruzal-breathing witch find her? This is a great mystery, my third heart.
Giggling, the Human toddler ran unsteadily to the mighty Blue Dragon, holding out her arms.
When she fell, the Dragon scooped her up with great gentleness, for each of his talons were longer than her body. Here, little mouse. You cannot stay in our clutch forever. We must give you to the Human King.
I sorrow, said the Dragoness.
And I fly with thee in thy sorrow, said her mate.
* * * *
They had done to her what the Nameless Man had done, Hualiama realised. She was trapped in her own mind, unable to speak or respond as a maternal draconic presence examined her wounds. Then, the Nameless Man had saved her from being destroyed by Ra’aba. Now, she raved inside the echoing hallways of her mind, slipping into and out of lucidity. How could it be that a Red Dragoness stood in her cavern, alongside Master Jo’el, Ja’al and Master Khoyal? How could the Dragoness confer with them in low tones, while Lia lay helplessly abed, beneath a light cloth covering meant both to preserve her modesty and to conceal her identity?
Magic. Oh, the sweet, unattainable song of icy fire playing over her body!
“What kind of fire did this?” inquired the Dragoness.
“Dragon fire,” said Master Jo’el. “A feral Dragon attacked the girl–my niece. We brought her here, for we hoped you might accompany the Dragon delegation, o mighty Qualiana. Your powers of healing are peerless, even among the Dragonkind.”
His smooth lie darkened the fire.
After a long silence, Qualiana said, “I will accept your story and treat your niece, Jo’el, but you will owe me a favour. A personal favour.”
Unable to respond, Hualiama lay unmoving, drenched in equal parts of pain and astonishment. Dragons spied lies so easily? At last, coolness bathed her burns, a healing magic which traversed the most intimate, delicate pathways of bone and muscle, and she knew by the Dragoness’ groan and the transfer of arcane energy between them that Qualiana worked a mighty labour within the very warp and weft of her being.
After a very long time, Qualiana spoke. Do I know you, girl? Did I cradle you–the Dragoness’ voice caught, thick with emotion–in my paw?
Loving wings infolded her into a womblike space.
* * * *
From a prison of the mind, to a prison of the body.
Lia stared stupidly at her left wrist, tethered with a leather thong. Her neck twizzled. And the right. What was this? She lay on her stomach like a windroc soaring wide-winged upon the everlasting thermals of Fra’anior’s caldera, yet she was helplessly lashed to the frame of her pallet. Increasingly crazed thoughts avalanched through her mind. Pirates? Bandits? Torture from Captain Ra’aba? A draconic punishment for daring to set foot on Ha’athior Island?
“Er … help? Can somebody let me out?”
“She stirs at last from the royal pillow-roll,” said Inniora, moving into Lia’s line of sight. “Before you ask, this is for your own good. You kept thrashing about and scratching yourself so much that you were wrecking your chances of healing properly.”
“My own good?”
“Right. Red Dragoness say you no move. Heal good. Flicker say, you no move. Herbs stay put, heal good. Understand now? Inniora say–”
Lia fumed, “I understand I’m about to boot your backside so hard you’ll fly right over the caldera!”
Inniora folded her muscular arms with an infuriating smirk. “In which case, I’m leaving you