by Lisa McMann
When he could make out the steps, he started climbing, following the spiral. Sometimes he’d look down over the railing at the floor below to see that Astrid was still there. He passed by the entryway that led to the second floor, which was stripped of all decor and whose rotted floor didn’t look safe to walk on. But the stone steps seemed stable, so he climbed them. He passed the third floor, and the fourth, and the fifth, all of which were similar to the second floor. Finally he rounded the last curve of stairs, which meant he was entering the bulbous top part of the turret. He looked up at an unusually small opening, like a large trapdoor. Continuing up, he poked his head through and discovered himself at one side of a huge, round room. The walls curved around to form a point far above his head.
It looked like the inside of an onion, but it smelled like books. As Dev climbed the last steps and reached the landing, he noticed it was a trapdoor—he could close and lock it from the inside if he wanted to. He kept moving and could make out in the shadowy light that this tower was very different from the castle Grimere’s tower that he’d been trapped in. This turret was an incredible library. There were more books than Dev had ever seen before in his life, even in the castle. They lined the walls from floor to ceiling and all around the widest part of the bulb. Shelves loaded with books even hung on rusty chains from the ceiling, though they were way too high for Dev to reach.
On the floor were stacks and stacks of books, and around the stacks were several pieces of furniture. Four old claw-foot chairs, a number of small sofas and fainting couches, some of which had fabric that was decayed and disintegrating. There was an ancient-looking harp on one side of the round room, surrounded by several smaller instruments. A big wooden desk that looked like it was too enormous and heavy to be moved stood on the other side. More books were on top of the desk, and some of them were open. There was a candelabra there too, in the center of everything, but no apparent way to light it. Dev went over to it and pursed his lips, concentrating and waiting until the heat boiled up in his throat. He blew a steady, narrow stream of air, and fiery bits came out with it, igniting the wicks and illuminating the desk.
This room had been gorgeous once, that much Dev could tell. He wondered why thieves had taken the time to painstakingly loot the gold off the bulbous turrets and all the other places, but had left all these beautiful books and instruments just sitting here. And then, after a minute, he didn’t wonder anymore. The furniture and large items couldn’t fit down that hole of an entrance. Ashguard must have built that trapdoor after everything was already up here. Perhaps he did it when he lived alone, fearing attack.
Not to mention that, as a practiced thief, Dev knew that people who would loot an entire palace full of priceless decor weren’t the types of people who would steal books. A book thief was likely either in search of acutely necessary information or in need of mental or emotional escape. Not monetary profit. They were desperate rather than greedy.
Dev had stolen a book once. Of all the things he’d stolen, it was the only one that he regretted. Probably because books had souls. They weren’t inanimate and uncaring, like nuggets of gold or jewels. Books had feelings. But the stolen book had helped him learn to read when he was forced to sit through Shanti’s lessons with her, so he could almost forgive himself for tucking it inside his cloak one day and keeping it in his tiny, cold room near the dungeon to give him comfort whenever he’d had a spare minute. It had probably burned up in the castle fire, he realized suddenly. The thought of that put him in a melancholy mood.
“Have you seen this place?” Dev called down to Astrid a while later. “It’s amazing up here! I think this is where Ashguard must have lived after everything else was destroyed.” He ventured over to the desk and ran his forefinger over a few of the volumes that were open and faceup. He was surprised to find almost no dust had collected on the pages. “Some of these books have been opened recently,” he shouted. As Astrid had suspected, someone had indeed been here, but only the books knew who it was. Dev gazed at the pages, startled and disappointed to find them written in a language he didn’t know how to read. The font was fancy and full of curls, and because of that the letters were hard to decipher, in addition to the words. After a minute of trying to pronounce a few of them, Dev shrugged and gave up. Hopefully not all the books were written like that. He went to the east window and looked out over the path Astrid had trampled for them and beyond.
“I can see the crater lake from up here!” he reported. Astrid hadn’t been answering, so he wasn’t sure exactly where she was or if she could hear him from this distance. His voice echoed through the empty spaces. “This is a really great lookout tower. These windows have glass in them.” He hesitated, and fear seized him. “Where are you? Astrid?”
Astrid poked her head through the doorway at the bottom of the stairwell and called up to him. “I’m still here. It’s a shame everything is destroyed.”
Dev breathed out in relief. He’d had a split second of panic, thinking Astrid had abandoned him or gotten captured or something. Not that he didn’t like this place—he loved it. He just didn’t like being alone. “Oh, Astrid, you’re wrong!” he said. “Not everything is destroyed.” He moved swiftly back to the hole in the floor and looked down over the railing at the stairs, barely detecting her face at the bottom. “This tower is an enormous library. The furniture is falling apart, but there are a lot of books here, and a fireplace with wood, and musical instruments. And no wild animals that I’ve noticed so far, though there are bound to be bats. It’s actually… quite nice, I think. In a run-down sort of way. Better than no home at all, that’s for sure.” He noticed how suddenly chatty he’d become, which was unusual for him. He’d just never been excited about a place before. Or been given the opportunity to gush.
“Speaking of home,” Astrid said, sounding mildly anxious, “I’m sensing we should head back. Something feels off here. And it’s getting late.”
“Oh? What feels off? You mean with the smell of whoever was here before?”
“Maybe,” she said, but she didn’t sound sure at all. “I can’t quite detect it. But it’s there.” She pulled her head out of the turret entrance and disappeared.
Dev stayed in place, hovering over the trapdoor a moment longer in case Astrid was going to say something more. But she didn’t. He took a moment and tried to sense danger on his own, but nothing felt off to him. Everything here felt exactly right. Reluctantly Dev glanced over his shoulder at the library and at the instruments. His scales were flat on his arms and legs. No images were pounding his vision. The Revinir didn’t seem to be very angry or active at present. In fact, he realized with a start that he hadn’t heard a single roar from the Revinir since right before she threw him out the window and left him for dead. It made him wonder briefly what she was up to. But just as swiftly the thought left him. He gave one last longing look, then slowly went down the staircase to the ground to join Astrid.
She’d nodded off, and when Dev woke her, she seemed surprised to see him, but in her usual, forgetful way. Dev must have spent a little too much time out of her sight. “Hello!” she said, “And… what… exactly…? Hmm.” She looked around, confused.
“I’m Dev.” He smiled and gently explained, “You brought me here, and a short time ago we were talking and you said you wanted to go home. Back to… the cavelands.” His face fell when he pictured the terrain. The cavelands were so boring. But Dev needed to stay out of Grimere. He’d promised Drock he would, and Drock was someone Dev didn’t want to let down—not after what the dragon had said to him. He also wanted to be there in case Drock returned, looking for him. In case there was news from… anyone.
A pain shot through him. The thought of Drock never returning with news was high on his mind. The fact that he might never see Thisbe and Fifer again was a little too much to take. But what was he going to do? Sit around in the cavelands with a bunch of forgetful, roaming ghost dragons and wait for something that might never come?
Or… was
there another option? Dev had developed a kinship with this land and palace, decrepit though it was, in the short time they’d been here. What if…?
“Of course. Dev,” said Astrid, remembering. “My special friend Dev. Short for Devastation. Yes, you are a gem, I think. Or at least leaning that way, as my senses tell me.”
“Oh, really?” said Dev, tapping his lips. “Thank you.”
“Well, climb aboard. We mustn’t dally. It’s a half day’s journey if memory serves. Home awaits.”
Dev’s heart sank as he stood next to the dragon. His feet felt like cement. But when Astrid knelt down, Dev did as she’d asked and climbed aboard. Once he was settled in the cushiony hollow between her wings, he gazed at the grounds. The spider-webbed garden was horrifying. The foxes barking and scurrying around the main-floor staircase were unsettling. And the palace was doomed to collapse entirely after a few more years of neglect. Yet he couldn’t take his eyes off it. From Astrid’s back he could see a river snaking through the back property, swollen as if it had recently rained here. The picture of the river reminded Dev of the third image in his mind from the ancestor broth, and he wondered again if it was trying to tell him something about his past. He knew that having a river nearby was the most important thing about settling down. He’d always known that. But Drock might be coming back for him in the cavelands. And here, if he stayed, he’d be all alone. Conflicted, Dev closed his eyes and brought the image of the beautiful palace to the forefront of his mind.
Astrid, with her great wings outstretched, began to run and flap them, creating a whoop-whoop-whoop sound as they sliced the air. She lifted off with Dev aboard. He opened his eyes and turned to look over Astrid’s side at the broken-down palace, so different from the image in his mind. Yet he couldn’t shake the strong pull of it. He couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Astrid cleared the treetops and kept flying. Dev’s chest tightened, and the ache in his ribs, which had been forgotten most of the afternoon, returned. He turned to watch the grounds grow small but felt his eyes closing again, as if unable to look. A sick feeling rumbled through his gut. In that instant he knew that, despite everything, he belonged here. Not in the cavelands. Not in the forest or in Grimere or anywhere else. And maybe that meant he’d be alone, like old, gray Ashguard Suresh, the curmudgeon. Maybe it meant Dev would become a curmudgeon too, but none of that mattered. Astrid was taking Dev away from the only place that had ever felt like home to him, and everything about that was dead wrong.
“Astrid!” Dev called, desperation evident in his voice. He rose to his knees, hanging on with one hand to her pillowy skin and pleading, “Please turn around. Please! I… need to go back. I need… to go… home.”
An Unwelcome Visitor
If Drock comes to the cavelands with news of the other black-eyed people, you must tell him where I am,” Dev told Astrid as she prepared to leave for the cavelands again, this time without him. “Can you remember to do that?”
“I promise,” said Astrid.
Dev found it hard to believe her. “Wait. I’ll tie a ribbon of grass around your claw.”
“A ribbon of grass?” said Astrid, completely befuddled. “Why would I want that?”
“It’ll help you remember,” said Dev. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” He ran out toward the river, where the grass grew long and sturdy, and plucked three pieces of equal length. He tied off one end, braided the strands tightly, then tied off the remaining end and brought it back to Astrid. “Hold out your talons, please,” he said.
Astrid obliged. Dev knelt and tied the grass ribbon around her smallest claw, making several knots to keep it from slipping off or untying. “Whenever you look at this ribbon, you will think of me,” said Dev. “And you’ll remember that you need to tell Drock where I am. Okay?”
Astrid frowned. The grass ribbon felt like she had something undesirable stuck between her claws, and she didn’t really like it. “Okay,” she said doubtfully. “If you say so.” She didn’t seem sure of this plan at all.
“I believe in you,” said Dev. “And… thank you, Astrid. For everything you’ve done for me. I’m very grateful.”
“Take good care of yourself,” said Astrid. “I’ve grown fond of you since the moment I first discovered you in Ashguard’s tower. I knew there was someone up there. Did I tell you?”
Dev smiled uneasily but didn’t correct her. He worried that a grass ribbon around her claw wasn’t going to help her one bit. But it was something. “I’ve grown fond of you, too. Don’t forget me here.”
“I could never forget you, ah…” She blinked.
“Dev,” said Dev.
“That… was a joke,” said Astrid slyly.
“Oh,” said Dev, trying to laugh but failing miserably.
“Good-bye, Dev,” said Astrid. And with that, she took her leave.
Dev waved until she stopped looking back, and then he shielded his eyes from the sun and watched until she grew small. He thought he saw a tiny something drop from her claw to the ground below. Dev shook his head and sighed. Hopefully, if Drock asked about him, that would jar Astrid’s memory. But if not, Dev would have to deal with whatever came his way indefinitely. Alone.
The thought made his stomach churn. He hadn’t spent much time alone, and he didn’t like it. He’d told Fifer as much when he’d joined her rescue team, and he wasn’t used to making his own decisions after a life of having someone dictate his every move. But he was ready now. Or at least he hoped he was.
* * *
An hour later Dev had caught, cooked, and eaten a fish. He found a couple of buckets, which could come in handy for fishing in the future. And he stumbled across a well in a corner of the courtyard that had a hand pump. After a few minutes of pumping, the water turned clear and tasted good. He didn’t even need to go all the way to the river to get a drink. That seemed like a luxury.
Soon he returned to the center turret and climbed up to the bulbous library tower. He looked around more thoroughly and began to count the volumes of books, but gave up after a few minutes. Then he tried out all of the sofas to see which would make the best and softest bed and beat the dust out of it. While the dust settled, Dev went over to the corner to check out all of the instruments and tried playing each one. He made a loud racket but didn’t care.
Before sunset he looked through an entire section of books and found several in a language he could read. As he settled down on his sofa, facing the window that looked to the east, he smiled contentedly. This broken-down mess of a palace was all his. Not just because he’d decided to stay since he felt a calling to this place. But because his inner sense told him he was the rightful owner. Dev was of the line of Suresh—there was no question in his mind anymore. Ashguard had been one of his ancestors, perhaps even his grandfather. The ancestor broth that Thisbe had fed him told him so.
Sure, there was a lot of work to do if Dev ever decided to restore this land and these structures. But he didn’t need a whole palace, or even very much of it. And he didn’t need to fix anything at all if he didn’t want to. He had everything he could ever want: a river, a sofa, and books to be his friends.
As he stared out the window, watching the sky lose its light, he saw a spot like a fly on the windowpane. But it grew larger, and more spots appeared. Dev got up and went to the window, then squinted through it. Was it a flock of birds?
They grew larger still. Very big birds? Some of Fifer’s falcons, perhaps? Had she sent them with a message? What was happening?
The darkness fought against Dev’s vision, but soon the spots in the distance grew large enough for Dev to recognize without the need for direct sunlight.
They weren’t birds.
His chest tightened and his breath ceased. It was a posse of dragons, with the Revinir in the lead. And they were coming straight for Dev’s palace.
An End of Something
The long day stretched into night in Artimé, and Fifer and her team were hard at work in very different ways. By
the time all of the dissenters had been moved from the lawn to the confines of the hospital ward, other things were progressing as well.
Florence sent Seth with the two ghost dragons back to Quill to fetch everyone’s things that they’d left in the Quillitary yard. When they returned, the dragons were content to fish in the sea, then rest on the lawn and munch on the herbs from Henry’s garden while they waited for their next assignment. Seth went inside to help others with cleanup.
Inside Ms. Octavia’s classroom, Aaron studied various books, trying to find out how to fix the tubes or make new control panels. Carina, Sean, and Samheed worked on repairing the staircase so it wouldn’t collapse, and then they started fixing all of the broken spindles and sections of railing. Henry and Thatcher handled the injuries in the hospital ward, with Crow and Scarlet helping out. Florence assisted Simber in guarding the entrance to the ward. Seth, Kaylee, Ishibashi, Sky, and Ibrahim cleared out the debris scattered throughout the mansion, repairing what they could and magically making the rest disappear.
Fifer and Lani talked through the current status of the dissenters while magically replacing the chandeliers. Then they sealed the top of the mansion walls to the roof all the way around, so that whenever rain was scheduled it wouldn’t leak inside. Clementi moved from window to window on each floor, painstakingly reciting permanent glass spells at each for what everyone hoped would be the last time.
