“Of course you can,” said Seth.
Fifer hesitated, then nodded. “Sure.”
“I might be able to help you find Thisbe,” Dev said, as if he were still trying to convince them.
“Even if you don’t, it’s okay,” said Fifer. “You can stay with us.” She hadn’t fully let go of her wariness of the boy, but when she’d started to look at life from his angle, she was a lot more willing to give him another chance. “Just don’t be a jerk,” she suggested.
“I’ll try not to be.” Dev’s eyes darted restlessly toward the river. “I’ll go catch some fish if you want.”
“Sure,” said Seth. “That would be great. I’m starving. You’re planning to share this time, right?”
“Yes, of course,” whispered Dev. He knew he deserved that.
“My fishing tackle is in my bag if you need it,” said Fifer.
“I’ve got my hook.” Dev looked like he wanted to get away from the intense conversation. Fifer had had enough of it by now too.
As they walked toward the riverbank, the three heard a flutter in the trees that grew louder and more intense as dozens of red-and-purple falcons landed on branches above them. When the noise quieted, Shimmer, the leader, dropped down and landed on Fifer’s shoulder.
Fifer petted the falcon. “You found us,” she murmured. The bird shimmered brightly, magically, in the dark forest.
“Birds?” said Dev. “Are they your pets?”
“Sort of,” said Fifer.
“Does that shimmer mean the magic is back?” asked Seth.
They looked back toward the camp at Simber, who was still frozen. “I guess not,” said Fifer, confused. “But the birds have brought the hammock with them. And since she’s still shimmering, I don’t think they’ve lost their magic.”
“Wait a second—maybe you haven’t lost yours, either,” said Seth, growing excited. “Your automatic magic, I mean. That stuff you were just born with.”
“Maybe,” marveled Fifer.
“What else can you do?” asked Seth.
Fifer pointed her finger to test her abilities. “Glass.” Dev scooted away and shielded his face, just in case. But no glass appeared.
“That’s an Artimé spell that you learned,” said Seth. “So it wouldn’t work. Try one of your shrieks. Wait—on second thought, we don’t want any glass breaking around here. Someone could get hurt.”
“If there even is any glass in the forest,” said Fifer. She glanced at Shimmer and stopped abruptly. “Hey! If the birds are still magical, we can get a few of us home in the hammock if we want to.”
“Wow, you’re right!” said Seth. But then he shook his head. “Talon could take us too. But that’s not how we do things. We all go down with the ship, remember? Like in Lani’s books about the old days. We can’t leave until we have Thisbe.”
Fifer nodded, a lump in her throat and the familiar Thisbe hole in her heart aching. She couldn’t help remembering that they’d left this world once before without Thisbe. Would they have a reason to do that again? After Alex’s death, everything had turned upside down. Nothing was certain.
As the three of them resumed walking to the river, the trumpets sounded in the distance once more.
“What is that?” Fifer asked. “Dev, do you know?”
From his pocket Dev pulled out a little box, which held his fishing hook. “It’s the king’s call to arms,” he said in a low voice. “He’s telling the world that he’s about to get revenge on the Revinir for Princess Shanti’s death. He’s declaring war on her, and he is asking the people to join him.”
“The villagers, you mean?” asked Fifer. “What are they supposed to do—drop everything and go to the castle to volunteer?”
“Yes. Exactly,” said Dev. “There will be some training first, of course.”
“Oh,” said Seth, looking puzzled. “But whose side are we on, exactly? The king’s, right? Even though he keeps slaves too? That doesn’t seem okay. Are you going to, like, heed the call, or whatever, Dev?”
Dev snorted. “Not me. I’ll never go back there.”
“So, wait. Does that mean you’re on the Revinir’s side?” Seth asked slowly, as if fearing the answer.
Dev just glared at him, and Fifer shook her head slowly. “He’s on neither side,” she said.
“True,” said Dev.
“Just like us,” Fifer continued thoughtfully. “We’re on our own. No—we’re on the side of the black-eyed people and the dragons—the original rulers. They aren’t represented by either the king or the Revinir. In fact, they’re mistreated by both sides.” She hesitated. “It seems to me like maybe it’s time to get rid of them all. And . . . and put the rightful rulers back in power.”
“You mean us,” said Dev, looking at her.
Fifer blinked. She caught his gaze, his black eyes mirror images of her own. “Yes,” she said, almost breathless. The size of the challenge poured over her all at once like a bucket of freezing-cold water. “Us.”
Seth crouched down by the river. “But how? And where do we find the dragons?” he asked, puzzled. “Arabis is in this world somewhere, but I’m guessing she can’t fly right now. Her wings must have fallen off since they’re magical.” He scratched his head. “Besides, we need to find Thisbe. That should be our main goal right now. The last thing we need is a war.”
“I agree,” Fifer said, breaking the connection with Dev and turning to Seth. “We need to find her. Before . . .” She blinked hard. “Before something else terrible happens.” The last thing Fifer needed was to lose somebody else she loved. Fear rippled through her at the thought.
Dev glanced at Seth. “I have an idea where at least some of the dragons are,” he said with a glint in his eye. He slid his hand absently over his forearm, the scales still invisible in the dark. “Once we have Thisbe back, I can take you there.”
The Plight of Arabis
Arabis the orange’s wings had turned to vines, cloth, and flower petals, and they’d fallen off. She’d noticed it immediately because she’d been flying back to the rescue team in the forest after having delivered her message to the ghost dragons.
She plunged toward the desertlike ground following the wings, not far outside the cavelands where the ghost dragons dwelled. The forest, where the Artiméans were camped out, was a few flight hours away. At the last moment before striking the ground, Arabis twisted and coiled her tail below her like a spring in a desperate attempt to soften her landing. But her tail had nerves too, so there wasn’t anything she could do to avoid devastating pain. When she hit, her coiled tail flattened beneath her weight, and her neck bent and snapped like a sapling branch, giving her whiplash. It was a wonder her spine was intact after that.
She flopped to her side, the wind knocked out of her, unable to breathe for several moments, and then cringing in pain when she was finally able to suck in some air. Any ordinary beast of that size would surely be dead after a fall from such a height. But Arabis was a dragon from the line of Pan, and Pan’s dragons had mysterious powers. She lay on the hard dirt for many hours, eyes closed, and drew in the healing auras of the bright blue sky and the baked earth.