Tamri almost felt bad about keeping all this Watermight for herself, but Pel had only cut her in on the job because she had the fastest whip in the Gutter District. He wouldn’t hesitate to take the whole lot if he could steal a dragon all by himself.
“Borrow,” she reminded herself. “You’re only borrowing it.”
Tamri managed to draw in a quarter of the Watermight that her small, wiry body could hold before the red dragon realized what was happening. Then it snapped its jaws shut, cutting off the silvery flow, and glared at her with bright bronze eyes. A few silver droplets fell from its mouth and splashed on the shingles. Tamri drew them in too.
The dragon renewed its efforts to escape, scrabbling at the shingles and making the sloped roof shake. A scarlet feather drifted from its frantic wings.
“Calm down,” Tamri hissed, crouching lower to stay balanced. “You’re going to knock this place right off its stilts.”
The dragon gave her a stubborn look then hunkered down like an angry toad, keeping its jaws firmly clamped. Tamri attempted to pry its mouth open with the Watermight, gently at first then gradually applying more pressure. The dragon growled deep in its scaled chest, the power remaining locked inside.
Tamri couldn’t force the creature’s jaws open no matter how hard she tried. Her magic-wielding skills were rudimentary at best. She was fast, but she had always been too poor to keep any loose Watermight she came across. Eking out a living this way didn’t leave much time for practice. She had once dreamed of becoming a Waterworker’s apprentice and learning how to use her power properly, but she’d been too busy fighting for her survival—her and Gramma Teall’s.
“Please give me that power,” she implored the dragon. “The king has plenty more, and I need it.”
The dragon snorted derisively and swiped a feathered wing at her, knocking her onto her backside.
“Fine. I’ll think of something else.”
She scrambled down the sun-warmed shingles and took shelter behind the brick chimney again, racking her brain for another way to get the Watermight. Force wasn’t working. She was beginning to understand why Pel had recruited a whole gang for this job.
She listened to the scraping of the dragon’s claws, its agitated growls. Sweat ran down her face, dampening the neck of her threadbare tunic. There had to be a way to make the dragon relinquish the power. Maybe if I—
Suddenly a vast shadow swept over Tamri’s head, and she nearly pitched off the roof in surprise. The red dragon gave a joyful cry as a second, larger dragon landed beside it. The stilt house shook violently, and only Tamri’s grip on the chimney kept her in place. She hugged the grimy brick column, which provided precious little cover from the new arrival.
The second dragon had jewel-blue scales, and its deep chest glinted like a beetle in the summer sun. The wings covering its feathers were whiter than anything else in this city of mud and coal dust. The dragon raised these brilliant wings, the span stretching the full length of the rooftop, and sheltered the smaller red dragon like an elder brother.
Tamri stared the newcomer in its jet-black eye, too shocked to move. It gave a spine-chilling growl.
A figure climbed down from the dragon’s back, wearing a blue coat and carrying a glowing golden cudgel. It was the same Vertigonian Tamri had seen before. He was young and tall and powerfully built, with thick, windblown bronze hair and light skin, so unlike the black hair and olive skin Tamri shared with most Pendarkans. He looked furious.
“Release him,” he shouted at her. “This blasted roof can’t hold both of them.”
“Then move your dragon,” Tamri shot back. “I’m not done here.”
“I don’t know who you think you are, but—”
The roof gave a terrible groan, and a few shingles skittered off the slope and dropped into the canal below. Before Tamri could react, the man lunged toward her and seized the back of her tunic. She twisted like a cat caught by the scruff of the neck, sure he was about to toss her into the canal. Instead, he hoisted her onto the back of his beetle-blue dragon and climbed up behind her. And not a moment too soon. A splintering crack sounded directly beneath them. The dragon raised its white wings and launched off the roof, taking them airborne.
The Vertigonian kept Tamri firmly in place with an iron grip on her tunic, his knees anchoring her thighs. Her bare feet dangled on either side of the dragon’s thick, serpentine neck. Below them, the red dragon gave a furious squawk.
“Unleash him, or I’ll—”
“Okay, okay.” Tamri jerked on the icy cord of Watermight tying the red dragon to the roof, whipping the substance back into her body.
As soon as it was free, the red dragon leapt into the air and soared up to join its compatriot, chattering angrily. A gaping hole had opened in the sloped roof, revealing a cluttered bedroom and part of a fine sitting room. Tamri winced. She wouldn’t want to be here when the stilt house’s owner returned.
Abruptly she remembered she was sitting on a dragon’s back for the second time that day. She clutched frantically at the white feathers lining the dragon’s shoulders, wanting to hold on to something.
“Don’t grab him so hard,” the Vertigonian ordered. “You’re pulling his feathers.”
The man’s fist was still knotted in her tunic. She wasn’t going to fall—but there was no escaping, either.
“Why don’t you just let me off here?” Tamri said. “No harm done, right?”
“You just stole one of my Cindral dragons.” His tone was disbelieving. “You think I’ll just drop you off at the nearest water taxi?”
“Uh, maybe?”
Tamri scanned the city below, her stomach lurching at how far away everything was. They were much higher than before. The draft from the dragon’s wings buffeted her, sweeping her tangled black hair into the Vertigonian man’s face. She’d lost her linen handkerchief somewhere. She felt exposed, with her face to the wind and her captor seated so close behind her.
They left the yellow-flagged Boundary District and crossed over a sea of midnight-blue banners and fine houses. This must be the Royal District. The bridges between the islands were broader than in the rest of Pendark, and even the canals didn’t smell quite as putrid.
The King’s Tower rose before them, jutting up like a fist from its own island. A new kind of fear seized Tamri as she realized they were heading straight for it.
“You’re taking me to the king?”
“Pendarkan kings dispense justice, don’t they?”
“You can’t.” Tamri twisted, trying to look him in the eye, but their position on the dragon made it difficult. Dread made her feel stiff and ungainly despite the power icing her bones. “Please. I’ll give back the rest of the Watermight. You can’t take me to Khrillin.”
“You’re still holding Watermight?” The man sounded startled.
“Of course. Aren’t you a Wielder?”
“I am not.”
Tamri hadn’t tried to use the power against him, assuming he could counter her Watermight with Vertigon’s infamous Fire substance, which had nearly torn the continent apart five years ago. Besides, she doubted she could fight him without pitching off the dragon at the first strike. But he didn’t know that.