A flurry of activity rippled around the workroom, and soon the furious scratching of pens competed with the patter of the rain outside.
Latch and Selivia opened a roll of parchment between them and were soon immersed in its contents. They’d all worried Latch’s ordeal would irreparably damage him, both in mind and body. He looked a little grave, a little haunted, but he gave no sign that he still felt the pull of the Lightning.
Tamri did, though. She couldn’t admit it to the others, but she sometimes dreamed about the purple-white flicker of the power, dancing and twirling in that faraway chasm. Despite the pain it had caused her, she itched to reach out to the Lightning again. She feared it was more than curiosity. What if the Lightning already had its claws in her?
She wanted to discuss her concerns with Dara and Latch, but they might stop her from leaving Sharoth. For now, traveling farther from the Lightning’s source was her only hope of alleviating its effects. No matter what, she couldn’t let it get to her.
Dara turned and beckoned to Tamri.
“You should get some rest for your journey tomorrow.” She flicked her fingers, and the sphere of Watermight floated back to Tamri’s hands. “We can handle things here for now.”
“Okay, thank you.” Tamri twisted the Watermight sphere into a coil around her wrist. She wondered if there was still time to snatch that book for Gramma Teall. Probably best not to destroy any goodwill Dara and Selivia had managed to build up here. Judging by how the discussion just went, they were going to need it.
As she left the workroom, lightning lit the sky, and two seconds later a peal of thunder shook the Archive. The storm was almost on top of them. Tamri wouldn’t let the weather delay her again, no matter what a certain tall, stern dragon rider had to say about it. It was past time to be on her way.
3
As she left the Royal Archive, Tamri spread the Watermight into a paper-thin dome to keep the rain off her head. She’d picked up this trick from watching the Soolens over the past few weeks. They were notoriously secretive about their Wielding practices. Until recently, the rest of the continent didn’t even know they had Watermight vents of their own.
With the Watermight umbrella floating above her, Tamri hurried across the avenue separating the Archive building from the palace, splashing through puddles and counting the seconds between lightning and thunder. She unbuttoned her heavy Wielder school coat, which had been made for frigid Vertigonian winters. The temperatures in the capital of Soole were no worse than cool even with the relentless rain.
Sharoth was a city of clean lines, white walls, and tasteful accents in the form of painted doors and carved screens. Apparently, it was beautiful in the sunshine, but Tamri had seen precious little of that since her arrival. The storms transformed the city into a pale-gray world smelling of wet sand and desert rain.
At the palace gates, the guards verified her identity then admitted her to the main courtyard. Incredibly, this was the third home to royalty she had visited in the past six months. She couldn’t wait to tell Gramma Teall about it.
If she remembers me. Tamri shoved down the thought, as she had many times since parting with her grandmother. The closer she got to reuniting with her, the more she feared that Gramma Teall wouldn’t recognize her. She’d forgotten Tamri’s name a few times during their last year together, and people with memory sicknesses seldom recovered. The woman who had raised Tamri since her mother died might not be herself anymore.
First, you have to find her. She’d worry about the rest later.
Tamri crossed the rain-soaked courtyard, meeting the suspicious and contemptuous glances of passing nobles with defiant glares. A lord with long silky hair brought a scented handkerchief to his nose in a rather pointed manner, and Tamri bared her teeth at him. He gave a satisfying start and hurried indoors. The Soolens all knew Tamri was with the Vertigonians, but they treated her as if she was either a secret assassin or the worst sort of canal scum.
She headed for a stone arch on the far side of the courtyard, which opened into a smaller garden where the dragons were staying. She hoped to find Heath and confirm they were actually leaving in the morning.
Lightning flashed, making her skin prickle. One second later, thunder rumbled. It was definitely getting closer. But they couldn’t postpone no matter how bad the weather got.
Inside the dragon garden, a large woven-reed shelter had been set up for the ten Cindral dragons still in Sharoth. The rest had left with Dara’s husband King Siv and Lady Vine Silltine on a secret errand a week ago, along with Tamri’s friends and Wielder school classmates Kay and Dentry. Most of the dragons were hunkered down in the shelter now, avoiding the rain and the growing storm, but a handful shuffled along the gravel walkways between the drowned flowerbeds. Cindral dragons had reptilian heads and necks, scaled bodies, and wings covered in long feathers like birds of prey. Originally from Cindral Forest, they could transport vast quantities of the volatile Watermight substance in their bellies.
The largest of the flock was Boru, a beetle-blue creature with elegant wings covered in bright-white feathers. He lounged at a trough by the shelter, eating a desert deer carcass with the same calm dignity with which he did everything.
He turned his magnificent scaled head to mark Tamri’s arrival, and a slightly smaller dragon with violet wings and silky gray scales tried to snatch the deer carcass from beneath him. Boru blocked the attempted theft with a quick snap of his powerful jaws and shouldered the violet dragon aside, ignoring the smaller creature’s snarls.
A chittering sound came from the reed shelter, and a sea-green dragon called Laini bounded toward Tamri like an eager kitten. She nuzzled her affectionately, nearly knocking her off her feet. Tamri pushed her Watermight umbrella higher and hugged Laini’s arching neck.
“Hello to you too.” She stroked Laini’s damp sea-green feathers, enjoying the weight of her head resting on her shoulder. “Are you ready for our adventure tomorrow?”
Laini snorted and shook out her feathers, sending water droplets flying.
“I know the weather’s bad,” Tamri said, “but we can’t wait.”
Lightning flashed, followed immediately by a thunderclap, and Laini gave a disgruntled gurgle.
Tamri pulled back to look into Laini’s beautiful golden eyes. “Gramma Teall needs us.”
Laini sighed, her meaty breath wafting through Tamri’s hair, and bobbed her head in assent.
Tamri chuckled. “I’m glad you agree at least.”
A throat cleared gruffly behind Tamri.
She turned as Heath Samanar emerged from the dragon shelter. His shirt sleeves were rolled back, and the blue uniform coat marking his status as a Vertigonian dragon rider was slung over his arm. A cudgel hung at his belt, glowing with inner Fire. He pushed his thick bronze hair back from his forehead, revealing matching bronze eyes.
Tamri hadn’t seen much of the Chief Dragon Rider since Thunderbird Island. Things were still complicated between them. Part of her wanted to race into the palace and hide in her little guestroom instead of speaking to him now.
She realized she was just standing there staring.
“Hi,” she blurted out.
“Hi.” Heath adjusted his coat on his arm, splitting his gaze between Tamri and the wet gravel at her feet. His expression was stern, but she’d learned that sometimes masked his shyness rather than indicating disapproval. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”