1
Tamri spun the Watermight out of her fingertips. The silver liquid curled through the air as if it were a salt adder, sinuous and deadly. She split it into two spirals. Then three. Four. The coils flowed apart, spreading and dividing, growing brighter.
The magical substance lit the walls of the Royal Archives of Soole, casting shadows over the compartments stretching from the sandstone floor to the pale blue ceiling forty feet overhead. Each neatly labeled cubbyhole contained a single bound book or a carefully preserved scroll. Delicate wooden platforms hung on chains, which could be raised and lowered with pulleys to reach the upper compartments.
Tamri stood at the edge of one such platform, clutching the chains, and guided her Watermight spirals closer to the labels. Her body thrummed with nerves, and a disapproving silence whispered through the vaulted space. She wasn’t supposed to be in here alone.
She hadn’t expected it to take so long to find a book without the help of an Archive Steward. The platform swayed and creaked as she strained to read the labels, spreading the Watermight thinner to illuminate the compartments. Rain lashed the narrow windows between the columns, and it was as dark as night, even at midday.
It has to be here somewhere. Tamri could hardly believe so many books existed on the whole continent. She leaned out farther, scanning the column on the opposite side of the nearest window.
“Don’t let the Head Steward catch you Wielding so close to the books.”
Tamri jolted at the unexpected voice, and her platform swung against the wall with a loud crack. She scrambled back to the center, crouching low to regain her balance, and peeked over the edge.
The Fire Queen, Dara Ruminor Amintelle of Vertigon, looked up at her calmly from the sandstone floor. A glowing sphere of Fire floated beside her, illuminating her golden hair and fine black coat. That sphere would cause far more damage to the delicate papers than Tamri’s Watermight spirals, but Dara was in no danger of losing control.
“I was just looking.” Tamri jerked the Watermight back into her hands, extinguishing its light. The power flowed beneath her skin and crept along her bones, filling her with icy strength. “It’s dark in here.”
Dara glanced at the rain-smeared windows. “The Stewards will lend you an Everlight, you know.”
“Didn’t want to bother them,” Tamri said quickly.
Dara grinned. “They scare me too. They’re very fierce.”
Tamri engaged the pulley and lowered her platform, scanning the vast hall to make sure no one else had slipped in behind the Fire Queen. She was afraid of the Archive Stewards. A particularly grumpy one had chased her out with a penknife the last time she fetched a scroll for Dara. True, Tamri had used a whip of Watermight to snatch the scroll from an upper level, but that wasn’t the point. The Stewards didn’t trust her because she was from Pendark. They’d trust her even less if they knew why she’d snuck into the Archive alone that morning.
The platform reached the floor, and Tamri locked it in place with a lever. She joined the Fire Queen, brushing book dust from her red Wielder school coat and combing her fingers through her thick hair.
Dara examined the column Tamri had been searching. “You’re looking at Pendarkan folktales?”
“Uh . . . yes.” Tamri thought fast. “These ancient scholars we keep studying are so vague and confusing. They never just say what they mean. I thought the old storytellers might have written simpler tales about the Lightning.”
“That’s a good idea,” Dara said. “I’m impressed you’re still focused on this when you’re leaving tomorrow.”
Tamri flushed. “I didn’t find anything useful anyway.”
She’d actually been looking for a copy of The Legend of Teall and Darran to steal for Gramma Teall. Tamri’s grandmother had used that book to teach her to read, and it had been her most prized possession until it disappeared from their stilt hut years ago. Tamri suspected her old friend Pel had swiped it to sell. Books were valuable. Even now, Tamri itched to tuck a few manuscripts into her coat pockets. Queen Rochelle of Soole had granted them unrestricted access to the Royal Archives to work on their Lightning problem, but that wouldn’t save Tamri if the Stewards caught her stealing books. It’d be worth it to see Gramma Teall’s reaction, though.
Tamri forced down a wild surge of worry for her grandmother, rubbing the toe of her boot over the mosaics set into the sandstone floor. The pattern showed an ancient ruler of Soole facing down an enormous desert creature known as a bullshell. Tamri had thought the things were myths until she discovered a shell bigger than a horse on display in another part of the Archive. The place was a wonder, but Tamri couldn’t enjoy it while Gramma Teall was in danger. She couldn’t wait to be on her way.
Dara was still scrutinizing the folktale section. The Fire sphere rotated slowly beside her, shining bright on the dusty labels. Wind gusted against the windows, rattling the frames. The Fire Queen wore a familiar look of intense focus.
“Did you need me?” Tamri asked.
“Latch just arrived in the workroom,” Dara said, pulling her attention from the books. “He’s ready to talk.”
“What? Now?” They’d been waiting on Lord Latch Brach for three weeks, ever since they arrived in the Soolen capital city of Sharoth. His ordeal at Thunderbird Island had rendered him too weak and ill to give a full account of his time as the Lightning’s thrall. Tamri hoped he could help her understand her own encounter with the newly discovered magical substance. But she couldn’t delay her departure for Pendark.
“Are you sure he’s up for this?”
Dara shrugged. “Selivia gave the okay. She’s been stricter than a jailer about his recovery.”
Tamri herself hadn’t been fit to travel after she pulled Lord Latch away from the Lightning chasm. Every muscle and bone in her body had felt brittle, and she could barely hear out of one ear. She still would have set out for Pendark the day her Watermight Oath broke if the Cindral dragons hadn’t needed to recover too. Heath guarded their health as diligently as Selivia did Latch’s. He’d finally declared the creatures strong enough to carry them across the sea. Why couldn’t they have left a few days ago, while Latch was still safely in bed?
The wind howled louder outside the Archive, echoing Tamri’s dismay. Lightning flashed, sharpening the colors on the mosaics.
“Maybe Lord Latch needs another week or two of rest,” she said.
“He’s already here.” Dara’s mouth tightened. “So is Crown Prince Chadrech.”
Tamri cast about desperately for another excuse. “But he must—”
Suddenly, the wind rose in a fierce gust, and the nearest window blew inward with a great crash. Tamri ducked, shielding her face as glittering shards of glass showered her. The wind shrieked through the jagged opening, whipping books and scrolls out of their compartments. Priceless papers swirled through the air like startled songbirds, and rain cascaded onto the mosaics.
Dara immediately flattened her Fire sphere into a thin shield to block the broken window. Rain hissed against the golden substance, and steam rose around the edges. But the damage was already done. As the wind cut off, the swirling papers plummeted to the wet floor, ink smudges spreading like blood.