1
Tamri didn’t want to steal the dragon. She only needed to borrow it for a little while.
She watched from beneath a canal bridge as the huge creature exited the iron gates, her bare feet sinking slowly into the mud. She’d never been this close to one of the beasts before. It had a reptilian head and a long tail with a barbed knot swinging at the end. The scaled body was dark red, and scarlet feathers covered its wings, making it look like a mix between a lizard and a bird of prey.
The ruins of a grand manor house were visible beyond the dragon’s arching back before the iron gates clanged shut. Guards lined the thick stone walls around the manor, protecting its contents, and murky canals circled the island on which it sat.
Tamri got ready to move as the dragon ambled toward her bridge on all fours, its distended belly sagging to the muddy path. It would be vulnerable while crossing the canal, if you could ever call such a beast vulnerable.
The dragon turned its lizard-like head toward her, and the morning sunlight glinted off a mouthful of teeth longer than Tamri’s thumbs. She crouched a little lower. It was still well before noon, but a pungent aroma was already rising from the swampy canal. Tamri wiped sweat off her forehead and adjusted a scratchy linen handkerchief over her mouth and nose, waiting for the signal. She felt jumpy, and she wished the dragon would walk faster. Those guards could spot her at any moment.
The dragon’s teeth and sheer size were starting to make her think this was a bad idea. But she couldn’t back out now. Her friend—and sometimes rival—Pel had recruited her for the job with promises of the biggest score of their lives, swearing it would change her and her grandmother’s fortunes for good. He and the others should already be in position.
Tamri and Pel were thieves, but they weren’t after gold. They stole Watermight, a valuable magical substance that sprang from underground vents across the city of Pendark and the nearby Black Gulf. Tamri had been born with the ability to Wield the stuff, and she made her living—barely—snatching it up wherever she found it and selling it to more powerful Wielders.
According to Pel, this dragon carried a vast quantity of the substance in its belly. He had assured her it would be worth the extra risk to apprehend the dragon and get it to relinquish its supply.
“The beasts drink Watermight straight from the king’s vents,” he’d told her. “I reckon we can grab one while it’s on the move and take its stash. It’ll be easier than trying to get past the guards at the vent itself.”
“Won’t it breathe fire at us?”
“It can’t,” Pel said confidently. “You can tell ’cause of the feathers. These ones aren’t like the dragons in the stories.”
Tamri had been skeptical of Pel’s dragon knowledge. The creatures had only appeared in the city a few years ago, accompanied by riders from the north. The foreigners purchased large quantities of Watermight from King Khrillin and carried it off to distant lands in the bellies of the great winged animals. The notoriously fragile substance would drain away or lose potency when carried in barrels or skins for too long, but the dragons had solved that problem. For the first time, the Watermight could be used—and therefore sold—outside of Pendark.
A lot of poor Waterworkers like Tamri figured it wasn’t right for the king to sell off their native power, but no one had ever tried to steal it from the dragons before they left the city. Tamri was about to find out for herself if the creatures really were just large flying cargo vessels, as Pel claimed.
The red-feathered dragon lumbered closer to Tamri’s bridge. A tall man strode beside it, his blue coat bearing the insignia of the faraway mountain kingdom of Vertigon, but the other guards remained by the stone walls. The dragon and the tall Vertigonian were relatively exposed.
After crossing the canal, the dragon would ascend a wooden platform on the neighboring island and use that to get airborne. All Tamri had to do was intercept the beast and hold it long enough for Pel and the others to extract its Watermight payload.
Oh yes. That’s all.
She pulled back into the shadow of the bridge and raised her hands to allow the Watermight she’d been carrying all morning to ooze out of her skin. The silvery-white liquid pooled in her palms for a moment then flowed into the air, twisting into a sinuous line. Lighter than water, finer than silk, the magical substance shone like liquid diamond as Tamri formed it into a long, shimmering cord. She used every drop Pel had allocated her for the job, draining the strength she’d felt while carrying the magic inside her body. Without the Watermight, she was just a scrappy, underfed girl with stringy muscles and no real power to her name. Hopefully today would change that.
Tamri finished her Watermight lasso by spinning a noose at the end then scanned her surroundings. She was supposed to capture the dragon as soon as its clawed feet touched the bridge, but she still hadn’t heard the diversion. Pel and the band of gutter kids he’d recruited should be making a ruckus on the opposite side of the island by now.
“Where are those idiots?” she muttered into her handkerchief. She didn’t trust Pel far, but this prize should keep him committed. Was he in position or not?
Talons scraped wood. The dragon was on the bridge, shuffling right above her. Boots thudded alongside it. There was still no sign of the others. Tamri was going to lose her chance to act.
She thought fast. There was only one guard—and the dragon was already halfway across the canal. She didn’t want her hopes for a new life to amble out of reach. She could barely take care of Gramma Teall as it was.
Praying Pel’s team would follow her lead, Tamri pulled her feet out of the mud and scrambled up the embankment, her Watermight lasso already spinning. The silver cord strengthened as it spun, the liquid power coming alive in her hands, making her feel brave.
Her feet hit the first slats of the bridge. The dragon whipped its head around to stare at her as she let the loop of silver magic fly.
“Hey!”
The tall foreign man shouted at her, but the dragon stood between them—and Tamri’s Watermight rope was already zipping through the air. The noose landed around the creature’s neck and pulled tight.
“Get away from him!”
The foreigner raised a thick metal stick with a knobby golden end glowing with inner fire. Panic shot through Tamri at the sight of that glowing cudgel. That must be Vertigon’s deadly Fire magic. She’d never seen it in action.
The Vertigonian started around the dragon. Tamri had put every drop of Watermight she carried into the rope. She couldn’t fight him. She looked around wildly for Pel and the others. They should be popping out of the canal, charging from the opposite bank, flinging Watermight razors. They should be helping.
The dragon tugged hard on the cord, yanking her off balance. The Vertigonian ducked as the great scarlet wings swept forward, narrowly missing his face.
“Stay calm, Rook,” he called. “I’ll get her off if you—”
The dragon spun as if chasing its own tail, forcing the Vertigonian back a step. Tamri’s feet skidded on the bridge as the creature hauled her along, circling and squawking and snapping its vicious jaws. She felt dizzy. But she couldn’t let go until the others got there.
The Watermight cord sank into her palms, keeping her tethered to the dragon no matter how hard it tried to shake her off. But still no one came to her aid. Those cowards had abandoned her.