by Amie Kaufman
Everyone considered this in silence.
“And we’re not going to tell the adults,” Lisabet said eventually. It wasn’t really a question. It was a statement.
One by one, the other five nodded.
“They’ll just discuss it forever,” said Ellukka.
“Or use it to win,” Lisabet said. “You’re our friends, you listen to us—”
“And we understand why you want to use it to keep things even,” Ellukka said with a sigh.
“But the Dragonmeet won’t understand wanting to keep things even,” Lisabet said. “Any more than the Fyrstulf would.” Her voice was perfectly even as she spoke of her mother, though her gaze was down.
“Okay,” said Anders. “So if we’re going to find it and use it, it’s going to be all up to us.”
“I think maybe that’s what Leif means us to do,” Rayna said. “To come up with a new, creative way to solve the problem that neither the wolves nor the dragons would think of. They’re always looking for ways to win. We’re looking for a way to make sure neither side can try to fight the other.”
“Are you all in?” Anders asked.
“Yes,” said Lisabet and Rayna at the same time.
“Yes,” said Theo, nodding his head.
“I’m in,” said Ellukka.
Mikkel sighed, looking down and away, his shoulders rounding. But just as Anders’s heart was starting to thump, the other boy looked up and grinned. “Kidding,” he said. “I’m in. We have to do something, and this is the best we have.”
“Then we don’t have a lot of time to waste,” said Lisabet. “But for now we should get to bed. Let’s meet at breakfast, and we can start figuring out the map’s riddle, and work out where to find the scepter.”
Anders read out the riddle one more time, so everyone could think about it overnight, and then one by one the others trooped out to bed.
Anders and Lisabet got ready for bed, their movements slow. It had been a long day, and for Lisabet, spending so much time next to the warmth of a dragon had been difficult.
“It feels good to be doing something,” she said, as they snuggled down underneath their quilts.
“It does,” Anders agreed. “I hope it’s enough.”
“You’ve done a lot already,” she said. “More than anyone could have imagined.”
“Me?” He felt like laughing—he’d been worried and confused for weeks now. He didn’t feel much like someone who got things done.
“Sure, you,” she said. “You figured out how to see Ulfar with the mirror, made contact with Hayn, met him, got the map, and now you’ve assembled a team. We’re going to do this, Anders. Somehow, we’re going to do it.”
Anders wasn’t sure what to say to that, but as he drifted off, he felt more hopeful than he had in a long time.
Tomorrow, they’d have to work out where blue meets blue the whole day long.
But for now, they’d sleep.
They met again for breakfast the next day, all itching to discuss the puzzle. But as if they knew exactly when they weren’t wanted, Nico and Krissin, their least favorite Finskólars, sat down at the next table, eating in silence, perfectly able to hear everything that Anders and his friends might say. They pretended to pay no attention, but Nico was glowering at his porridge from beneath his floppy black fringe, and Krissin sat with her head up, like a wolf scenting the breeze.
So Anders silently recited the riddle in his head, and tried to think over it on his own, and joined the others in casting frustrated glances at their two neighbors. There wasn’t room to move far enough from them to speak, so they were stuck waiting for another chance.
When everyone was finished with their breakfast, they rose as one to put away their bowls and plates and head to the classroom. Anders’s frustration bubbled up, and he checked over his shoulder before he whispered to his companions. “Why are Nico and Krissin even in the Finskól? They’re horrible to everyone. Leif could choose anyone, and there are things that matter more than brains.”
Mikkel answered, keeping his voice down. “Leif chooses whoever he wants, and he never explains why. There are all kinds of reasons, though. I’ve read about it in my history studies. Doesn’t mean everyone he chooses is a nice person.”
“We have theories on Nico and Krissin,” Ellukka added. “They might not be nice, but they’re really smart. Perhaps Leif would rather he knew where they were all the time, and what they were doing.”
“And then there are people like Ferdie,” Mikkel said, grinning.
“He’s studying medicine,” Ellukka said, “so he could just be learning in the infirmary. He does go there a lot, in fact.”
“Right,” Anders said remembering what Bryn had said the first time he’d been introduced to the Finskólars. “But everyone who meets him, they like him. Ferdie could end up accidentally ruling the world, he’s so charming, so maybe Leif wants to make sure he turns out to be a good person, just in case.”
“Exactly,” Mikkel said. “In Ellukka’s case, she’s such a good storyteller that I think Leif wants to be sure she turns out to be a good person, too. Stories are powerful, they can sway people to believe all kinds of things, to do all kinds of things.”
“Of course I’m a good person,” Ellukka said, with a huff. “The best.”
“Well, whether they belong with us or not, Nico and Krissin are making this very difficult,” Lisabet said.
“Agreed,” Anders said. “We’ve already got the Dragonmeet looking over our shoulders, we don’t need more watchers.”
Anders had hoped they’d be studying independently that morning, so he could work on the riddle with at least some of the others, but yet again, luck was against him.
“Good morning,” said Leif, as soon as they entered. He had the two youngest members of the Dragonmeet with him—Saphira and Mylestom. Anders saw now what he’d missed when the Dragonmeet was gathered around the table in the Great Hall—Saphira used a wheeled chair like others he’d seen in Holbard. There was a knob on each wheel, so she could grab it and turn it, and she wore brown fingerless gloves to protect her palms. She and Mylestom—she round-cheeked and smiling, he lanky, straight-backed, and serious—had taken up places by Leif’s desk.
“This morning,” said Leif, “we are going to have an unusual lesson. Although it’s not often discussed, we’re going to talk through the events that led up to the last great battle.” A small murmur went through the classroom, and he inclined his head to acknowledge their surprise. “With all that’s currently happening, I feel you should know more. Even the oldest of you were children then, and the reasons for it were not simple. Ellukka, can you tell the class the first and most important rule of historical stories?”
Ellukka nodded. “There are at least two sides to every story, and usually a lot more than that. So you should look for the sides you don’t know, and then ask yourself why you didn’t hear them.”
“Exactly,” said Leif. “So we will tell you our version of this story, but as we do, I want you to remember Ellukka’s rule. If you see another way the story might be told, speak up.”
They all nodded, and Anders glanced over at Nico and Krissin, who were already glaring at him, as if they were preparing to hold him personally responsible for everything the wolves were about to do wrong in this story. But he was curious as well—he’d always been told the dragons simply attacked one day, and Leif was making it sound like there was more to it than that.
“Ten years ago,” Leif began, “the youngest of you—Anders, Rayna, Mikkel, Theo—were only two years old. And the oldest, Patrik and Isabina, were only eight. Back then, the city of Holbard was growing very quickly. The wind arches at the harbor were being repaired. Lisabet, can you tell everyone about the arches?”
“They’re the biggest artifacts on Vallen,” Lisabet said. “They stretch all the way across the harbor mouth, and they make sure that no matter how windy or stormy it is outside, inside the harbor it’s always calm. They’re the reason so ma
ny people from all over the world come to Vallen to trade.”
“Just so,” Leif agreed. “A pair of wolf designers called Hayn and Felix had been working with one of our dragonsmiths, Drifa, and her team, to repair the arches.”
Ferdie raised his hand. “You mean dragons were there in Holbard, working with the wolves?”
“Exactly,” said Leif. “There were disagreements, and we were two very different groups, but this is not just the story of the last great battle. It’s the story of how we dragons stopped working in Holbard. How we stopped working together with the wolves.” He paused, to let the murmurs around the classroom die down, then continued. “The arches were already very old, and had begun to let in gusts sometimes, endangering ships. Repairing them was a very difficult job, and it required a great deal of fine detail. We had to pause regularly to research, to discuss the best next steps, and to consider our work.”
“I can think of a different way to tell that,” Rayna said, raising her hand. Leif nodded, and she continued. “The wind arches are important,” she said. “If they’re not working, food doesn’t get into Holbard. And ships don’t. People need what’s on those ships to make a living, and just to survive. To dragons, it’s important to discuss everything forever and ever—” She paused as Saphira laughed, and even Mylestom covered his mouth with one hand. “Sorry, but it’s true.”
“It’s true,” Saphira agreed. “We’re the newest members of the Dragonmeet, and we’re learning all about long discussions.”
“Well,” said Rayna. “Maybe dragons felt like they were doing it the best way they could. But maybe the wolves, and the people in Holbard, felt like the dragons were deliberately taking their time. Sometimes it’s hard to understand what the delay is.”
Anders fiddled with the stack of papers on the desk in front of him—some of Isabina’s mechanical drawings—and straightened them one by one, though there was no need to do it. These were his and Rayna’s parents they were talking about. Felix and Drifa. Working together on the arch.
“Very good, Rayna,” said Leif. “Whether you’re right or wrong, I do not know, but this is a perfectly valid point of view. I wish we could think so clearly about what happened next. Somebody, we don’t know who, murdered one of the wolf designers, Felix.”
A gasp went around the room, and Anders bowed his head. It was so hard to hear it said so simply, and pretend it was only a story to him too. Hayn had said that he, Anders, looked like Felix, but he wondered what he had been like. If he had been loud and confident like Rayna, or quiet and thoughtful like Anders. What kinds of things he’d have shown the twins if he’d had a chance to raise them.
If Anders had a chance to speak to Hayn again, he’d ask him.
“That’s sad,” Bryn said, “that he was killed. But what does it have to do with the battle?”
“Ah,” said Leif, his usually friendly face turning grim. “The same day Felix was killed, the dragonsmith Drifa was seen flying away from where his body was found.”
“She killed him,” said Bryn slowly.
“Or,” said Lisabet, “she was running away from the person who killed him.”
Every head in the room turned toward her, but Anders glanced up at Leif and found the Drekleid gazing thoughtfully back.
“Perhaps,” Leif said. “That is certainly another way to interpret the facts. Unfortunately, and not without reason, the wolves believed Drifa to be the culprit. They demanded she stand trial, but we could not find her.”
Mylestom spoke up from the front of the room. “Or we refused to send her to Holbard, from the wolves’ point of view.”
“Just so,” said Leif with a sigh. “As one of the dragons who hunted for her, I can tell you that I, at least, truly could not find her. But the wolves and the citizens of Holbard were not placated. Rumors flew, and every day citizens of Holbard became warier of dragons than they had ever been.”
“For all they knew, dragons were murderers,” Ellukka said slowly.
Leif nodded. “They told us dragons we had to wear red coats when we were in Holbard in human form, so they knew who we were. And then they told us we were only allowed to move through certain parts of the city.”
“They thought you were that dangerous?” Theo asked quietly.
“That we were that dangerous,” said Mikkel. “Or I bet they could have said it was because people were angry about the murder, and nobody wanted a dragon to be hurt by angry people in Holbard. So better to stay in safe, designated parts of the city.”
“Very good, Mikkel,” said Leif. “That was exactly the excuse. Every time a dragon flew overhead, coming in to work in Holbard, humans would run for cover, and the Wolf Guard would watch us.”
“Who’d want to go to Holbard at all, with things like that?” Rayna asked.
Leif sighed. “As it turns out, almost nobody. Fewer and fewer dragonsmiths agreed to work in Holbard, and projects began to pile up. We were worried for our own safety.”
“Or,” said Ellukka, “you were refusing to help people in Holbard. I mean, that’s what they might have said.”
Leif looked across at Saphira and Mylestom. “You see?” he said.
“They’re doing more than the Dragonmeet ever manages,” said Mylestom. “Usually the ’Meet members are all talking over each other by this stage, or hopelessly off-topic. At least your students are listening to one another.”
“That’s what being a Finskólar will do for you,” Saphira replied, with her easy smile.
“This is why I am telling you this story today,” Leif said to the students. “We do not speak of it often, but you are young, and your minds are open. Sometimes you see possibilities where we adults do not.”
Was Leif telling them again to take action? Anders wasn’t sure, but he suspected the Drekleid was. Then again, he had no idea they already had Drifa’s map.
Leif continued. “Fewer and fewer dragons were willing to work in Holbard, no matter what the reward. The wolves were demanding Drifa stand trial. Some of us felt she should, and some felt no dragon should subject herself to wolf justice. But in any case, nobody could find her.”
Anders’s hands made fists under the desk. Nobody had been able to find her, he knew, because she had been hiding. Waiting to have her babies and conceal them with some ally in Holbard. But where had she gone then? Had someone found her, and done the justice the wolves thought she deserved? Or, a tiny voice in the back of his mind whispered, was there a chance she was hiding still?
“What happened next?” Krissin asked softly.
“The wolves took dragons prisoner,” Leif said, “refusing to allow them to leave the city, forcing them to work on the wind arches and other projects.”
“Hold on,” said Lisabet, holding up her hand. “The wolves are a pack, and we make decisions differently from dragons, but I don’t know if you can say ‘the wolves’ all did something, any more than you can say ‘the dragons’ all did something. The wolves’ leaders took dragons prisoner.”
“And maybe they were desperate,” Ellukka said reluctantly. “If they thought a dragon killed a wolf—”
“And maybe she did,” said Bryn. “She hid afterward, that doesn’t look good.”
Rayna drew a quick breath—Anders knew she wanted to defend their mother—then looked down. He was pretty sure Ellukka had stood on her foot under the table.
“Perhaps they were desperate,” Leif agreed. “With little reason to trust dragons, and no help with projects they thought were vital.”
“That still doesn’t mean you can just take prisoners,” Nico said. “Even if everything they thought was true, and we don’t know that it was, they were following a wrong with a wrong.”
“Many dragons thought that way,” Leif said. “A rescue mission was mounted. A raid to free the dragons being held prisoner and made to work in Holbard. But how else might such a mission be described?”
“An attack,” Anders said softly. He hadn’t spoken yet, taken up with images of his parents, a
nd everyone in the room turned to look at him.
“Just so,” said Leif, just as soft. “An attack. Which led to a battle. And a break in what little trust there was, which has led to a separation that has lasted until this day. Many members of the Dragonmeet fought in that battle. The current Fyrstulf was a squad commander back then, one of the loudest voices against us.”
“We were never taught this,” Lisabet said, her voice shaking. Anders realized with a pang that it was her mother they were discussing. “The older wolves must know, but nobody our age has any idea.”
“The older wolves are living their own story,” Ellukka said. “Just like the older dragons. Stories about murders, and refusals to care about justice, and red jackets and threats.”
“But it’s not meant to be that way,” Lisabet pressed. “Neither side can make artifacts without the other. The arches in Holbard, they must never have finished repairing them. They’re failing even now. Sometimes huge gusts come through, and it’s happening more often.”
“The arches are the least of our problems,” Leif replied. “For now, we of the Dragonmeet are dealing with a wolf raid on Drekhelm, and the theft of the Snowstone. The wolves no doubt have stories about our equinox kidnappings”—and here he looked at Theo, who blushed—“and about our spies in their cities. We have stories about their raids, their attacks, their intentions. The way these things build up and explode is complicated.”
“And the Dragonmeet’s been talking about it without getting anywhere for ten days now,” Ellukka said. “No offense to you three.”
“None taken,” Leif said. “You’re right.”
“Leif,” said Nico, frowning, “I don’t think we should be discussing how to respond to this with wolves right here in the classroom.”
“I agree,” said Krissin straight away. “They shouldn’t even be in class. They could be spies.”
“They are not!” Ellukka said immediately.
“Go back to your equations,” Mikkel said to them from beside her. “You’re both better at things with simple answers anyway.”
