“Maybe,” she said in a tone that implied the answer was yes. “Why?”
“Didn’t you think that receptionist was acting strange earlier? She seems to have the most to gain from Mr. Jankin’s death.”
“She’s not clever or powerful enough to control a dragon. The killer is Master Fosco.”
I shook my head. “He’s not sneaky enough to be a murderer.”
Ivan rolled to his front and splattered the remains of the meat stew onto the sandstone. Rubens made a rumbling purr, accompanied by three cheerful-looking smoke rings. I ground my teeth. The wretched dragon probably enjoyed making new cadets sick.
Gobi curled his lip. “How do you expect to be a dragon warrior if you cannot ride a dragon?”
Phoenix clapped him on the back. “Since you’re so confident about your own abilities, why don’t you go next?”
The half-ogre puffed out his chest. “Dragon riding is my birthright as a Bluebeard.”
I suppressed a smile. Not many people knew this, but Father disliked dragons. He only tolerated them for the sake of the treaty. Gobi rushed up to the rapier red, only to be swatted away. He fell on his backside and growled.
“Respect me!” he roared.
The last thing I wanted to witness was the spectacle of Gobi’s battle of wills with Rubens. I turned my attention to Ivan, who spat several times before pulling himself to his feet. He bent over double, resting his elbows on his knees and breathing hard. Then, he straightened and ran his fingers through sweat-dampened hair. “That was… awful.”
“It’s the saddle,” I said. “There are no magical shock absorbers or anything to make the ride easier. It made me feel queasy, too.”
Ivan gave me a weak smile. Even his eyes seemed pale. “Thanks. I don’t feel so useless knowing that you fared just as badly as me.”
I bristled but held my silence. That hadn’t exactly been what I’d said, but if it made Ivan feel better, I wouldn’t correct his misinterpretation.
A scream filled the air. Rubens plummeted off the cliff’s edge with Gobi clinging onto his neck. I shook my head. Perhaps this was the lesson in humility that Gobi needed.
“Oh, yes,” said Ivan. “Did Phoenix help you with the dragon in your head?”
“Not exactly.” I stared down into the chasm. Rubens still hadn’t risen. “But I think someone else killed Mr. Jankin.’
“Another dragon is the murderer?” asked Ivan.
“I’m not sure… But that receptionist we met was looking awfully suspicious.”
“What is this about murder?” asked Rufus.
Ivan wiped down the front of his uniform and filled him in on the day’s events, and I chipped in with the theories Fyrian and I had talked about earlier. Stafford and Rufus stared back with wide eyes. I supposed that the alarm Evolene had raised hadn’t sounded around the entire mountain.
“This is our last class for the day,” said Ivan. “Why don’t we take a look around the murder scene after dinner?
Chapter 11
Moments later, Rubens swooped up from the cliff and landed behind us with a thud. The sky had turned a deep indigo, illuminated only by a haze of dark orange behind the distant hills. Gobi slumped against the dragon’s neck, his head hidden behind his forearms, back quivering.
“You were right,” said Fyrian into my head. “That boy tried to bully you because he was scared.”
“Is he all right?” I asked Phoenix.
He shook his head. “Find a table in the mess hall. We’ll join you later, and I’ll show you to your rooms after dinner.”
Stafford gasped. “But Rufus and I haven’t yet—”
“There will be plenty of opportunities to fly,” said Phoenix. “Please, go.”
Rufus shrugged and headed back toward the sandstone building with Stafford. Ivan and I followed them. When we rounded the building, a group of males wearing black armor emerged from the terrace staircase below. Like us, they were a mix of half and quarter-ogres, and they all seemed to be part of the same unit.
“Are those riders?” I whispered to Ivan.
He nodded. “See how they’re wearing red jerkins? They’re all riders except the one at the back wearing burgundy under his armor. He’s a mage.”
I scanned the group and found the mage. He was the shortest and most human-looking of the group and wearing a cloak made of—“Is that dragon skin?”
“Some of them shed their skins like snakes. It’s the greatest honor to be gifted a dragon skin.”
My eyes widened, and I took another look at the mage, who had passed us with his group. Two swords were strapped across his back. They reminded me of Father and Aunt Cendrilla, who were smaller than full ogres yet both held so much power.
As we headed down the sandstone steps, Ivan rubbed his stomach. “Are you hungry?”
“Not really.” My hands trailed on the pasture walls as I descended. Without the direct heat and sunlight, the tiny blades of grass were cool and damp under my fingertips. “Are you?”
He reached the bottom of the staircase and shook his head. “I’m still a bit queasy from that dragon. Do you want to go and look for clues now?”
“That’s a great idea!” Stafford turned around. He was half-way down the terrace, approaching the next set of stairs leading to the mess hall. “Are you coming, Rufus?”
The half-ogre snorted. “If you believe someone killed the human, send a message to the Magical Militia. One witch-detective can investigate a murder better than a trio of new cadets.”
I raised a shoulder. He was right, but Master Fosco had forbidden the witches from communicating with the militia. Without a willing messenger dragonet, it would be difficult to get outside help. “We’ll meet you later, then.”
Rufus continued left toward the mess hall, and we turned right toward the reception area. Behind him, hand-sized insects emerged from the dragon stalls, their thin wings glowing like candle fire. Dozens of them filled the air, illuminating the grassy terrace.
I stepped back, nearly tripping on a stone. “What kind of insects are those?”
Ivan grinned. “Dragon moths. I expect you don’t have them in the United Kingdom of Seven. They’re attracted to the high concentration of dragon magic. Pretty, aren’t they?”
My stomach clenched. I would have marveled at their beauty if they had been anything other than flying insects.
Stafford pushed himself between Ivan and me. “I say, Bluford, is it true that each country within the United Kingdom of Seven has a completely different climate?”
“Yes, but I lived in Clement, which cycles around all the seasons.”
He nudged Ivan and whispered, “That’s where the royal family lives!”
My shoulders stiffened. How had pretending to be a boy turned into being mistaken for a foreign Prince? Stafford seemed to take anything I said as confirmation that I was Aunt Cendrilla’s son in disguise.
“Yes,” snapped Ivan. “But a man got killed today, and Albert’s dragon is being accused of the murder. Since Albert has already said he’s not the Prince, can we drop the subject?”
The tightness in my shoulders unwound, and I let out a deep breath.
Stafford stopped in the middle of the terrace, head bowed. “I didn’t mean any harm.”
“I know…” A huff slid through my lips. One harmless little lie was turning into an avalanche of strife. “If you want to come along to help the dragon, fine. But please stop talking about royalty.”
He raised his head and beamed. “All right!”
Ivan groaned. “Come on, then.”
After a few moments of walking along the terrace, Ivan paused at the door leading to the reception area. “Are you sure you want to see that burned-out room again?”
The back of my throat twitched. My hand rose to rub my neck, but I forced it down. “It should be fine. The dead body won’t be there.”
Ivan blew out a breath and held open the door. “Let’s go.”
I stepped inside the darkened hallw
ay and turned right.
“It’s this way.” Ivan pointed left.
“Oh!” I smacked the side of my head. “My memory for directions is terrible.”
“Did you see the dead man’s face?” asked Stafford from behind.
“Shhh!” Ivan placed a finger on his lips. “Have you forgotten that most people here have excellent hearing?”
“Sorry!” Stafford clamped a large hand over his mouth and nodded, eyes wide.
I rolled my eyes and continued up the stairs and down the hallway. Hopefully, everyone would be at the mess hall or too busy to take notice of an overexcited cadet.
A door opened, and Roseate stepped out, her eyes red-rimmed. She shot Ivan and me a filthy look and stomped past us toward the terrace.
Loud voices echoed from the direction of the reception area.
“Director, I must protest at the handling of the incident,” said a female voice. “You should at least have let me perform the autopsy.”
“Pah!” said a gruff, male voice. “Any fool with eyes could see that a dragon killed him.”
“But, still—”
“But nothing! Jankin was a worthless louse. That dragon put him out of his misery before anyone else did.”
I gasped, Stafford choked, and Ivan clapped his hand over his mouth. A long silence drew out. It was clear from the voices that Master Fosco was arguing with Madam Maritimus. Now I understood why Roseate’s eyes were red-rimmed. She’d probably been crying because the security witch had told her off for destroying Mr. Jankin’s body.
“Told you,” Fyrian whispered into my mind. “Master Fosco has to be the killer.”
I nodded and glanced at Ivan. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, and I couldn’t blame him for feeling so disturbed.
“Let me remind you that I am head of security here!” said Madam Maritimus.
“I am the Director,” he snarled. “This mountain belongs to the dragons, not the witches. Your job is to secure the perimeter, not to police my dragons!”
“That may be so, but you had no right to order an inexperienced witch to destroy evidence!”
They continued squabbling like this, showing no signs of backing down. I turned to Ivan. “We’d better come back in a few hours.”
Ivan nodded, and we walked back together in silence. The dim lights of the hallway made his skin look ghastly pale. He and Stafford tried to hide their trembling hands, but it was clear that they were both unused to such machinations. People had tried to kidnap me a few times when I was young, and the Militia training had taught me a little about stressful situations, but even I felt sick.
We stepped out into the terrace. I inhaled a lungful of fresh, warm air and turned to my two classmates. “I’m sorry you had to hear that. Are you all right?”
“Just shocked, really,” said Stafford. “It didn’t feel real until I’d heard that terrible conversation.”
I nodded, and we continued along the terrace. “I can’t believe some of the people around here. They’re talking like whoever set the dragon on Mr. Jankin was doing everyone a favor.”
“Nobody liked him,” said Ivan.
We stopped at Fyrian’s stall. A couple of dragon moths flew above where she lay, illuminating her sad eyes.
“I was right about Master Fosco,” she said.
“He certainly is looking guilty,” I replied in my head.
Stafford nudged me in the ribs. “Is your dragon talking to you?”
“Yes, and she wouldn’t take kindly to being referred to like she belongs to me.”
Fyrian exhaled a puff of smoke from her nostrils.
“Oh yes.” Stafford rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry.”
I shook my head. “That came out harsher than I meant. Come on, let’s go and find the others.”
We continued along the terrace with Ivan still shocked into silence, Stafford exclaiming his surprise at developments, and me ducking dragon moths. Fewer people sat around the tables in the mess hall, so it was easier to find Phoenix in the corner sitting with Gobi and Rufus.
The waiter brought some tankards of ale, but neither of us ordered food. Stafford and I picked at a hunk of bread, while Ivan stared into his hands. I could imagine how he was feeling after that awful dragon ride. It was probably just like I had felt the first time I’d held an apprentice staff. Everybody’s little quartz crystal had lit up with magic, and mine had stayed dull.
As much as I wanted to reassure him that he’d find a place here in Mount Fornax, I couldn’t make such assurances. I knew nothing about the workings of the Academy, and I wasn’t sure I even wanted to stay in a place where the Director covered up murders.
Moments later, Phoenix stood. “Since everyone’s finished, I’ll take you to your living quarters.”
I pictured the shared dormitory at the Militia Academy, and icy prickles ran down my back. Madam Skinner’s enchantment would stay intact while I slept, but it still wasn’t proper to share a room with strange men.
“What are they like?” I asked.
“Small study bedrooms arranged around a common room.” He patted Gobi on the back, whose eyes were red-rimmed with tears. “Come along. Your trunks are already in your rooms.”
Instead of heading for the terrace, Phoenix led us through a maze of corridors at the back of the mess hall. It was lit by wall sconces and featured a huge mural of dragons in flight.
Stafford gasped. “Who painted all of these?”
“It’s not all warriors here at Mount Fornax. You’ve probably seen those who manage the land and perform servants’ duties, but we also have a small community of artists, scribes, and historians.”
I turned around and smiled at Ivan, hoping he would take heart in this revelation, but he stared at the floor.
Stafford continued peppering Phoenix with questions about the community. Apparently, the Dragon Defense Division was only a small part of the mountain’s activities, as most of the dragons were actually civilians.
We continued down a stairwell until we reached a door marked ‘CADETS,’ which led to another hallway. The first door on the left opened into a room with comfortable, wool sofas, foot stools and side tables.
“This is where you’ll stay if you’re successful in the Dragon Mage Academy.”
“And if we’re not?” I asked.
“The teachers will assess your strengths and give you the options of transferring to dragon riding, taming, or grooming.”
Stafford frowned. “What about the other academies?”
Phoenix shrugged. “They’re by invitation only.”
“What are the other ones?” I asked.
“The only other academy you boys would be eligible to join is dragon healing,” replied Phoenix. “But you’d need strong mage abilities for that. The other academy is run by Madam Maritimus, and she only takes witches, and the final is run by Master Fosco.”
I shuddered at the thought of that brute teaching anything except how to cover up a murder. “Right.” Faking a yawn, I raised my arms into a stretch. I’d already spotted my room, and I needed time to plan my next steps. “Good night, everyone.”
“Aren’t you going to stay up for a midnight feast?” asked Stafford.
I rubbed my stomach. “It’s been a long day, and I’ve lost my appetite.”
He gave me an understanding nod.
“The morning bell rings at eight,” said Phoenix. “I’ll meet you in the mess hall. Be sure that you’ve dressed and eaten by then.”
“Yes, sir!” we chorused.
I mumbled another goodnight, withdrew from the group, and entered my room. It was a smallish chamber with a single bed, a desk, and a chest of drawers. A washstand stood in the corner, complete with a spigot. Good. At least I wouldn’t need to bother sneaking around bathhouses after dark.
The window opened into a space as vast as the sky, lit by thousands of dragon moths, which fluttered around like slow-moving stars. They illuminated dozens of dragons, who swooped down from caverns
and frolicked in mid-air. There were black dragons, white dragons, green dragons, blue. Each had its own unique pattern of scales, each its unique shade.
My mouth dropped open. I leaned against the window frame to get a better look but was kept back by an invisible barrier. “What is this?”
“The mountain interior,” said Fyrian.
“But it’s so…”
“Wonderful?” she asked. “I used to play here as a dragonet, but I haven’t had a chance to fly through it as an adult.”
“I thought the back of every stall opened up into this.”
She sniffled. “Not for dragons accused of murder.”
I dropped down on the bed. “It must be horrible to be cooped up in that stable.”
“That’s why you need to contact Auntie Rilla. She’d pull out her magestaff and rescue me from this torment.”
“Not without proof that you didn’t kill Mr. Jankin.” I toed off my boots and stretched out on the bed, keeping on my uniform. “Let me rest my eyes for a bit. When everything’s gone quiet, I’ll go back to the crime scene and see if we can find some evidence, all right?”
“It’s not like I’ve got a choice, is it?” she grumbled.
I closed my eyes. “Let’s speak again in a few hours.”
Chapter 12
“Wake up, you lazy wretch!” A sharp, female voice cut through my dream.
I bolted upright, eyes wide, heart pounding like a war drum. White walls closed in on me like bone dominoes ready to fall. I scrambled to my feet. This wasn’t my dorm room, nor was it the Princess suite at the palace. It was only when a dragonet flew past my window that everything tumbled into place. I was in the heart of Mount Fornax, disguised as a boy, and I needed to uncover a murderer. “W-what time is it?”
“How should I know?” said Fyrian. “I’ve been trying to wake you for hours!”
“Sorry.” I rubbed the back of my head, stumbled over my boots, shuffled over to the wash stand, and opened its wooden doors. Linen towels, apothecary soap, and shaving utensils lay on the top drawer, and chamberpots sat on the bottom. “This is the first decent night of sleep I’ve had in weeks. Most nights, I lay awake worrying about being expelled from the Magical Militia Academy.”
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