But it just made him wonder why there had to be a war at all. Why didn’t the LeafWings give up and go away, or agree to be ruled by Queen Wasp? Why did they fight so hard instead? They must have known they couldn’t win … there were so many more HiveWings, and, of course, there was the Book, which was guaranteed to guide the HiveWings to victory.
So why did the LeafWings bother fighting, knowing so many dragons would die for no good reason?
It was their own fault their tribe was wiped out, if Luna was right and they were really gone. Queen Sequoia should have given up her throne and accepted Queen Wasp’s protection, like Queen Monarch did. Then the LeafWings could have lived alongside the SilkWings, all three tribes under one queen, working together. Maybe Queen Wasp would have left them some trees to live in, between the Hives. So what made them fight instead of accepting that? Had their queen really thought her tribe had any chance of winning?
Blue studied the blocky dark green shape that was meant to be the queen of the LeafWings. It was so hard to imagine being Queen Sequoia, leading an entire tribe into a doomed war. He didn’t even like arguing with other dragons. If someone offered Blue peace and stability and all he had to give up was a little independence, he would say yes in a heartbeat.
“I hope I get to see it one day,” Luna said, licking honey off her claws.
“What?” he said, startled out of his reverie.
She pointed at the mosaic, at the central yellow-and-black striped figure holding a rectangular shape over her head, the only object in the mosaic made entirely of gold tiles so it caught the sun like a fragment of fire.
“The Book of Clearsight,” Luna said softly. “Don’t you ever wonder what it says? What the next big disaster will be, or what’s going to happen to all of us next?”
“Of course,” Blue said, “but nobody gets to read it except the queen and the Librarian.”
“I could see it, though,” Luna said. “From a distance, if I get to visit the temple one day.”
“Well, Wasp Hive’s not that far away,” Blue said. “It’ll be easy to visit the Temple of Clearsight once you have wings.” If you’re assigned a job with travel permission and time off, he thought, but didn’t say out loud. Luna had enough to worry about.
He stole a glance at her wrists, which she kept rubbing and then resting in the cool grass. Would the quiet lavender scales on his arms glow like that in six days? Was Metamorphosis really more painful than anyone had warned them? He’d expected his wings to hurt a little as they came in, but he hadn’t even thought to worry about his silk.
They heard the chatter of approaching dragonets, enough voices that it was probably a field trip from one of the fancy HiveWing schools. Blue scooped up the empty Sugar Dream box and they retreated to a less crowded section of the garden, where they played hide-and-seek until the sun reached its highest point and began to slant back down the sky.
They ate lunch at Luna’s favorite café and then wandered through the Lady Cicada art gallery on one of the lower floors of the Hive. Blue found all the different portraits of Lady Cicada a little intense, but Luna liked the tapestry rooms. Weavings were the one kind of art that was left entirely to SilkWings. A HiveWing could probably buy dyed silk threads from one of the market stalls and a loom, like the ones SilkWing dragonets used for practice, but none of them would bother with learning to make a low SilkWing art. Which Blue thought was a bit silly; they certainly didn’t mind buying the results and hanging them all over their walls.
He left Luna gazing at her favorite tapestry — the one where Lady Cicada is flying with a long trail of radiant SilkWings behind her in the sky — while he checked out the sculpture rooms. Lady Cicada was old enough to have been alive when there were still trees to spare, so there was one small wooden carving of her in the middle of the clay and metal and marble statues. The wood was a shade of brown close to her actual red color, and Blue liked to look at it and wonder about the artist. What did woodcarvers do when there were no more trees to carve? Did they still get to make art, and did they have to learn all new techniques, or did the queen give them new jobs? Did they ever wish all the trees weren’t gone?
“Let’s get to the Cocoon,” Luna said, appearing behind him. Her pale green scales looked white in the dim light of the gallery, and it was hard to see the gold flecks along her back and tail. Her wingbuds were definitely more unfurled than they had been this morning, though, and her wrists were glowing as brightly as the lamps.
“We have a little more time,” Blue said, seized with a sudden panic. “We could get another honey drop? Or —”
“No,” Luna said. Her expression was strange, as though she was already drifting into the Metamorphosis trance. “I think I need to get to the Cocoon as … as quick as we can.”
“All right,” Blue said. Should he have made her see a doctor after all? But someone at the Cocoon would know what to do if there was anything wrong, surely …
They hurried to the outer spiral and down, down, level after level getting darker as they descended in strange silence (for Luna — Blue couldn’t remember a time when she’d stopped talking for this long). Blue wasn’t sure if he was imagining that the hum seemed louder down here, as if the insects outside were closer to the Hive, busily swarming around it.
The Cocoon wasn’t on quite the lowest, ground-floor level of the Hive, but it was close to it. Here the streets were dimmer and emptier, the lamps fewer and farther between. A few lower-class HiveWings lived down here, in the small cells near the outer spiral. There was one hulking building that Blue thought might be a training center for guards. The courtyard around it was open for a few levels up to give them space to fly their exercises. Blue glanced up as they went by, watching the dragons moving around the streets above them. Occasionally a flutter of black and red wings broke the quiet as a HiveWing flew from one side of the Hive to the other to save walking time.
But the main thing on this level was the Cocoon: a long oval dome, two levels tall, which was swathed in so many beautiful weavings it almost seemed to be made out of silk itself. Every SilkWing in Cicada Hive came here for his or her Metamorphosis, and according to tradition, afterward each one made a silk weaving for the dome as an offering of thanks.
Some of the weavings, especially the older ones, were simple: shimmery silver-gray silk in the shape of cobwebs or sunbursts or clouds. Other dragons had used dyes to add brilliant colors — here a silver dragon spangled with emerald green wings and matching green eyes all around her; here a swarm of tiny orange butterflies. Someone had even been able to afford two colors, weaving a midnight black shape of a Hive behind an iridescent blue web.
There were no trees, of course; it was forbidden to include trees in art ever since the LeafWings had been driven out. Even the Hive shape was dangerously close to that of a tree, and Blue wondered if the weaver had been worried about that.
But for the first time — maybe because anxiety was sharpening his attention — Blue noticed something on one of the tapestries that looked like a leaf. No, wait — was it a teardrop? A single, autumn-red shape, somewhere between a leaf and a teardrop and no bigger than his claw tip, gleamed in the middle of the butterfly swarm. Was he seeing that right? Why spend the money on a second dye color and only use it in such a small way?
Wait, there was another one! He blinked, startled. This one was slightly darker red, hidden against the black backdrop of the Hive weaving.
His eyes scanned the dome. There was another, veiled among a spray of escaping diamonds from a waterfall.
Blue wrinkled his snout, puzzled. Now that he was looking, there were little red “leafdrops” hidden in half the weavings he could see. Why had so many SilkWings decided to include that shape in that color? If it meant something, why didn’t he know about it?
Blue realized that Luna was staring up at the dome weavings, too, opening and closing her talons nervously. He thought about asking her if she’d noticed the hidden red shapes. But it wasn’t worth it to start a co
nversation that might stress her out … what she needed was distraction and calming down.
“What’s your weaving going to look like?” he asked. “Have you decided?” She’d been talking about nothing else for weeks, so Blue had heard all her ideas. But he was mostly trying to get her to smile, or blink, or do anything to reassure him that his bubbly sister was still in there.
Luna winced. “I don’t know,” she said. “I have to … get through this first.”
“You’ll be fine,” Blue said, taking her front talons in his. “I’ve never heard of anything going wrong during a Metamorphosis. I’m sure what you’re feeling is totally normal. All of this is normal. It’s going to be all right. Everything is always all right in the end, you know? You’re going to wake up with awesome wings and cool silk and fly everywhere and be the greatest spinner in the history of the Hives.”
Luna closed her eyes and whispered, “Everything is always all right” as though he’d just said “The sun is always shining” or “The bees would absolutely love for you to take all their honey” instead.
Blue was relieved to see a cluster of dragons gathered near the low arched entrance of the Cocoon — maybe one of them could get through to Luna.
“Look how popular you are,” he joked, but his smile faded as they got closer and he realized that most of the gathered dragons were HiveWing guards.
Why are there so many guards? He was sure that normally there were only two. He remembered the two extremely bored-looking guards who had fallen asleep by the exit during Swordtail’s Metamorphosis while he and Luna called encouraging words to their friend.
But today there were at least five outside, and they all looked anything but bored. Black and yellow and red scales shifted and caught the dim lamplight as the HiveWings scowled and stamped their feet. Two of them carried weapons, but the other three looked menacing enough without them. Most likely they had venom in their claws or shot poisonous darts from their tails, or something along those lines.
Blue shot a worried look at Luna.
First Silverspot. And Luna’s weird glowing scales. Now all these guards …
What does everyone know that we don’t?
Blue had to keep Luna calm. Whatever was going on, he didn’t want her to go into her Metamorphosis feeling scared or anxious.
“Why are there so many guards today?” Luna whispered to Blue. “Weren’t there only two at Swordtail’s Metamorphosis?”
“Oh, I don’t remember,” he said brightly. “I’m sure there are always this many and we just never noticed them.”
“Hm,” she said doubtfully.
“Luna!” Swordtail cried, emerging from the group and bounding toward them. His scales were dark blue with a small pattern of white triangles along his spine and snout, and then dappled all over with orange splotches, as though someone had melted a sunset in a cauldron and flung it at his wings. Blue always thought of his friend as one of the shiniest SilkWings around, bright and gleaming, the way Swordtail had been when they first met on the school racetrack five years ago. But lately Swordtail was always covered in dirt, with splinters of treestuff caught between his claws and tangled in his long, elegant horns.
And all too often he wore this expression — this worried, grim look that was really the last thing Luna needed today.
“Happy Metamorphosis Day!” Blue said to him, perhaps a little too loud. He widened his eyes significantly at Swordtail. “Isn’t this exciting?”
“Are you all right?” Swordtail asked, gathering Luna into his wings. She leaned into him as though she’d been flying for days and he was the island she’d been searching for. He took one of her front talons in his, and soft gray silk spun out from his wrists, gently wrapping around hers to wind them together.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Luna said. “I thought Grasshopper would never let you come.”
Swordtail made a face. “He didn’t. I finished all my work and asked — yes, very politely, Blue, I promise — and he still said no.” He shrugged. “So I snuck off when he wasn’t looking.”
Blue’s idea of “politely” tended to be quite different from Swordtail’s … but Blue had met Swordtail’s boss once and was not at all surprised that Grasshopper had tried to keep Swordtail from attending Luna’s Metamorphosis. Silverspot’s mistress would do it out of spite; Grasshopper most likely said no because he was still trying to teach Swordtail obedience and good behavior.
If Swordtail would quit picking fights with HiveWings and expressing unpopular opinions all over the place, Blue thought, perhaps figures of authority would be a little less annoyed with him, and his life would be a little bit easier.
“Oh, Swordtail,” he said ruefully. “You’re going to be in so much trouble.”
“Doesn’t matter. This is more important.” Swordtail turned Luna’s palms up and frowned at the glowing embers under her scales. “Whoa.”
“Does it look weird to you?” Luna said anxiously.
“Of course not,” Blue said. “You’re totally fine.”
“I remember a little bit of light where my silk came in, but not this bright,” Swordtail said, completely trampling over Blue’s efforts to calm Luna down. “I’m not — I’m not sure this is normal. Io, have you seen anything like this before?” He turned to his sister as she came up to join them. Directly behind her was Blue’s mother, Burnet, who stepped around the others to give Blue and Luna quick hugs.
“No,” Io said, sounding even more alarmed than he did. Her wings had come in several months ago, huge and dark purple with shimmers of aquamarine green. She was only a year older than them, but she had long, aristocratic-looking bones and horns, and she towered over Luna. “You don’t think …”
They both glanced at Burnet, for some reason, but she wouldn’t meet their eyes. “Oh,” she said carelessly, “I’ve been to so many of these, and there’s always something surprising. Never anything serious, though. Nothing to worry about.”
Blue had never heard his mother lie in his own stretched “everything is fine here” voice. It made him feel as if his nice, normal world was as thin as paper and as easy to stab holes in.
“Are you Luna?” one of the HiveWing guards said roughly, slithering up to them. He muscled Swordtail aside, breaking the slender threads that bound him and Luna together. “You’re late. Time to get inside.”
“Sorry,” Luna said, which was what she was supposed to say, and yet so unlike Luna to actually say it that Blue shivered. The ground felt unsteady below him.
Also, they were not late, not even by a heartbeat. All HiveWings and SilkWings had a precise internal clock that always kept their days on schedule and warned them when the rainy season was coming. Blue’s told him they were right on time … but of course he wasn’t about to argue with the guard.
“I love you, Luna,” Swordtail said fiercely.
“We do, too,” said Burnet, and Blue nodded, although his sister wasn’t looking at them and didn’t seem to hear them either.
“You lot, up to the balcony if you must stay,” the guard said, waving one of his crimson-and-black dappled wings at the side entrance. He gave Luna a small shove in the direction of the archway and she went, with only one last nervous glance back at them before she disappeared inside.
“Should we do something?” Io asked Swordtail. “Tell someone?”
“There’s no time,” he said. His long blue antennae unfurled, twitching, and he turned to stride toward the dome. “And it’s probably not … I mean, it’s so rare … ”
“What?” Blue asked. “Tell someone what? What are you so worried about? Io, what’s so rare?”
Io looked as though she might be about to tell him, but —
“Nothing,” Burnet said, putting one wing over Blue’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Let’s go cheer for Luna.”
He let his mother steer him through the side entrance and up the stairs, their footsteps muffled on the ancient silver-silk carpets. The gallery was a long, open balcony
that ran around the entire dome, overlooking the dim, quiet floor below. The only light came from small candles floating in the central pool of water.
Blue started toward their usual spot, on the far side of the dome, but Burnet gently tugged him back.
“Let’s stand here this time,” she said, choosing a spot not far from the stairs. Swordtail and Io joined them, the faint glow of candlelight rippling along their iridescent scales. Swordtail rested his front talons on the thick stone railing so he could lean over the edge, as though trying to get as close to Luna as he could. Blue wouldn’t do that until he had wings; it wasn’t far to fall, but it would still hurt if he did.
All around them, SilkWings were gathered in the shadows of the balcony, friends and family to the three other dragonets undergoing Metamorphosis today. Blue recognized many of their faces, lit from below like eerie moons all around the dome. Most of them were whispering to one another, but a hush fell as Luna was escorted onto the floor.
Like the others, her wrist band had been cut off by the guards. Now, in the twilight room next to the other dragons, and with her scales more visible, it was terrifyingly clear that something different was happening to Luna. Where the others had a pale silvery light coming from their wrists, Luna seemed to have fireflies on fire, startling spots of molten gold.
Blue felt Io grab Swordtail’s arm, but he couldn’t look away from his sister, all alone on the Cocoon floor.
I’m the one who was with her all day. I should have noticed that something was wrong. I should have made her ask someone for help.
One SilkWing, a starved-looking turquoise dragonet from their class at school, had already entered her Metamorphosis trance. Two long seamless strands of moon-colored silk spiraled out of her wrists. Her eyes were closed and her talons moved automatically, weaving the silk into a cocoon around her.
As Luna glanced around nervously, a second dragonet drifted into his trance and lifted his talons, silk threads spinning out. His cocoon looked like the first dragonet’s; like every SilkWing’s, it would shelter him for five days and nights while his wings came in.
The Lost Continent (Wings of Fire, Book 11) Page 4
