nephew’s ranting. “Hear me speak!” Glaring at the wall, the tall monk collected his thoughts. “Ra’aba allies himself with a faction of the Dragons. Sapphurion’s kin would not move against us in this way. Therefore, we must conclude that these Dragons of Ra’aba’s are a threat to Gi’ishior. Dragonet, I have a dangerous mission for you.”
“Me?” squeaked Flicker. Then, his wings unfolded and with a showy bow, he declared, “Command me, o Master.”
No mirth stirred Lia’s lips at her friend’s posturing.
“We have no Dragonships left. Until our remaining two vessels return from Jeradia Island, we’ve no means of travel either,” said Master Jo’el. “Therefore, I charge you to bear a message to Sapphurion, the Dragon Elder. It is vital that you deliver our missive personally, Flicker, and convince Sapphurion that we require protection against Ra’aba. Draconic law is clear. Interference in Human affairs is tantamount to a declaration of war.”
Flicker nodded gravely. “You can rely on me, Master.”
Lia noted, “We should alert the monasteries on the way. There are at least five I can think of.”
“King Chalcion knows the location of our monasteries?” Master Jo’el gasped.
In a voice as bleak as a Cloudlands storm, she replied, “Don’t you trust me? Can you not distinguish between father and daughter?”
That was a sure way to lower a room’s temperature, Hualiama thought, meeting the Master’s stare with all the honesty she could muster. But he did not know her adoptive father as she did. King Chalcion was neither an easy man, nor a good father–she had earned bruises and contusions enough to prove that many times over in her lifetime.
He nodded curtly. “I trust you, Hualiama. Flicker will pass eight monasteries on the flight to Gi’ishior.” Turning to Master Ha’aggara, Jo’el said, “Compose message scrolls–small ones. One to request Sapphurion’s help without demanding it. He will know we refer to the law. The others to alert the monasteries.”
“Aye, Master Jo’el.” The young scholar bowed deeply, and departed at once.
Master Jo’el raised his hand. “Hualiama …”
She whispered, “I must go after Inniora. It’s my fault they took her, Master Jo’el.”
“You must rescue the Dragon.”
In a voice rife with bitterness, Lia muttered, “I’ve spent three months trying to work out how to move a mountain, Master. Should I move the mountain, I must bargain with Ianthine, a Maroon Dragoness who is a master of what Amaryllion calls a vile and twisted form of magic. And what part has the Tourmaline Dragon to play in this? He will thank us and fly away.”
Jo’el clapped his hands together. “By the Black Dragon’s own wings, who is Amaryllion?”
Lia bit her tongue. Oh no. Mercy … could she keep no secrets?
Tell him, little mouse. It is time.
The Master’s eyes flickered as though he, too, had heard the Ancient Dragon’s voice.
“Amaryllion lives beneath Ha’athior Island, Master,” said Hualiama, quavering of voice and heart. “He is the last of his kind, one of the Ancient Dragons.”
A bony finger stabbed toward her. “You know an Ancient Dragon?”
“He’s my friend.”
Master Jo’el’s expression seemed frozen somewhere between wanting to tell her off for a childish fantasy, and a compulsive desire to believe. The other Masters had no such reservations as they collected their respective jaws from somewhere in the region of the floor, amidst a chorus of undignified spluttering.
At length Jo’el asked, “Tell me, did this Ancient Dragon reveal anything more about the prophecy?”
Lia nodded. “He said, ‘The third great race of the Island-World will rise from the shadows. That is what Ra’aba fears.’”
If possible, their gathering grew even stiller as each person present tried to imagine what this statement might portend. The royal ward knew that every Master present wondered what manner of woman they had invited into their midst.
Hualiama answered their regard fire for fire. She refused to apologise for who she was. Let them splutter. Let Lia evince the courage of one who had befriended the mightiest of Dragons!
“Speak, Lia,” Jo’el commanded.
Lia held her audience spellbound as she recounted every detail of Amaryllion’s words. Mighty was the mental and physical beard-scratching of these monks, she thought with a smile. Even she sometimes felt as though she walked amidst dreams and visions.
After she had spoken, Master Jo’el noted, “I don’t believe a comet is due for another handful of years, Hualiama, but not all such portents are signalled. Our path is clear. You will ask the Tourmaline Dragon to find this Ianthine, and to return here once he learns the truth of your parentage. We will rally the monasteries and seek to