“Mind your own business!” Admiral roared. “He doesn’t need to hear your toad-sucking voice!”
“Better than your millipedian claw-waving folderol!” the dragon yelled. “Are you poisoning his ears with your stupid ideas already? Did you tell him the queen chews up all your letters and spits them out? Because they’re the dumbest things she’s ever read?”
“That’s not true! And it would help if CERTAIN DRAGONS weren’t such TROLLS about everything!” Admiral yelled back. “As IF anyone would EVER believe that LESS citrus might be helpful! I swear,” he said to Blue, “I think he sneaks over and reads my letters just so he can write ones arguing for the exact opposite of anything I propose.”
“Who is that?” Blue asked, wide-eyed. “Why is he so mean?”
“That’s Fritillary,” Admiral growled. “He just wants everyone to hate the world as much as he does. Don’t talk to him.” He made an effort to smile at Blue. “See, this is why I’m glad you’re here. It’ll be nice to have someone new to talk to! Someone with a little perspective. Someone who knows how to look on the bright side. You do know how to look on the bright side, don’t you?”
“I guess I do,” Blue said. Wasn’t that what he’d spent his whole life doing? Finding a silver lining to any cloud? Convincing himself that there was nothing wrong with how SilkWings were treated. Ignoring Luna’s complaints. Assuming that their safety was worth sacrificing a few freedoms.
He looked down at the letters in his talons again.
After all these years of trying to work with Queen Wasp’s rules, in Queen Wasp’s hive, under Queen Wasp’s control, had his father accomplished no more than a handful of tangerines?
Had he accepted the loss of all his freedom because he thought he could find a way to make it work?
Didn’t he want more out of his life? Didn’t he want to fight back?
Do I?
It was like Cricket said — some rules were unjust. And some things were more important than following the rules.
He put down the letters and rested his front talons on Luna’s warm golden cocoon. It was very hot, but it didn’t burn him.
This is not going to be our life, Luna, he promised silently. I won’t spend the next hundred years writing fruitless letters. Father’s way, obeying the system, hasn’t worked.
So we’ll find another.
Or we’ll burn it all down.
Admiral found a place for Blue close to his own nest: a hollow in the rock large enough for a dragon to settle into, with several crannies in the wall where he could keep things, if he ever had any things. (Apparently there was a request process involving a number of forms.)
At first the hollow seemed a little too big to Blue … and then he felt a shiver across his wings as he realized his father was thinking of Blue’s future, and how much bigger he might grow. Admiral had chosen a nest where Blue could spend the entire rest of his life.
But I’m not going to. That’s not going to happen.
He tried to believe it as he lay down to sleep, but his dreams were restless and unhappy. He dreamed of getting his talons stuck in a crevice and trying to pull them out. He dreamed of letters piling up around his claws. He dreamed of Clearsight, sitting on the steps of her temple, looking down at him with enormous disappointment.
When he woke up, his wrists were itching.
Am I going to be a flamesilk?
The cavern was quiet. Most of the regular SilkWings were gone, and seven of the flamesilks were asleep. Blue climbed down to Luna’s cocoon and leaned against it. He wished he could talk to his sister. Or Cricket.
Is Cricket all right? Did she escape?
Or …
His mind shied away from the alternative. He couldn’t imagine the world without Cricket in it. He couldn’t imagine his own life without Cricket in it.
A HiveWing guard came stomping over and Blue sat up hopefully. Maybe this dragon could tell him something about what had happened.
But the guard went right past him and jabbed Admiral in the side with one of her sharp claws. Admiral woke up with a snort, blinking rapidly.
“Time to spin,” the guard snarled. “You’re late.”
“So sorry,” Admiral said, rubbing his eyes. “You’re quite right. I’ve been a little discombobulated by the arrival of my children, of course. Otherwise I’m always on time, aren’t I? Very punctual dragon, that’s me. Very little reminding required. Don’t you agree?”
“Quit your yapping and excusin’,” the guard grumbled. “Silk. Now.” She dragged a cauldron out from under Admiral’s nest and thunked it into place right below Admiral.
“Of course.” Admiral held out his arms and closed his eyes. A long, dragging moment passed, and then a thread of flame emerged from one wrist. It spiraled down into the cauldron, pouring slowly, like cold honey. It was another long moment before a second thread appeared from the other wrist, and this one seemed dimmer than the first.
The guard scowled at the slow-moving silk, and Blue wondered what she was feeling. Was she worried about what would happen to the Hives if there was a flamesilk shortage? Or did the guards get punished if the flamesilks didn’t meet a certain quota? Or was there any chance she was actually concerned about the dragons under her charge?
What a weird life this would be, he thought. Every morning you wake up and go through a secret warehouse staircase into an underground cavern. You spend the day poking other dragons to make them work and standing guard so they can’t leave.
Isn’t it boring? It must be boring. Especially for the ones sitting in a circle in the dark warehouse, staring through the glass all day.
The HiveWing turned to leave and Admiral’s eyes popped open.
“Sandfly,” he said quickly, “have you met my son? This is Blue. He says my daughter’s name is Luna. And she’ll be coming out tomorrow night. With her wings! And silk to add to the quota. Isn’t that wonderful?”
Sandfly looked down at Blue and the gold cocoon. She didn’t say anything for a few heartbeats. Her scales were pale yellow and speckled everywhere with tiny black spots, like a swarm of flies in the desert; it was easy to see how her parents had chosen her name.
“They’re very young,” she said at length.
Blue couldn’t tell if she was feeling sorry for them, with a life of imprisonment lying ahead, or if she was pleased at the idea of how much silk they’d be able to produce over the length of that life.
“Excuse me,” he said. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I was wondering … do you know what happened to the dragons who stole the Book of Clearsight yesterday?”
Sandfly leaped backward as though he’d jabbed her with an electric eel. “WHAT?” she roared. Half of the sleeping heads in the cavern popped up and turned their way. “That didn’t happen! No one would dare!”
“Oh … ” Blue trailed off. It hadn’t occurred to him that the queen would lie to everyone about this — and make the Librarian lie, too — but now that he thought about it, he wasn’t surprised. Losing the Book of Clearsight would be pretty terrible for morale. She could easily just close up the case and pretend it was still in there. That is, if Cricket and Sundew did escape with the Book.
“What a HORRIBLE thing to say!” Sandfly barked. Behind her, Admiral gave Blue a pained “fix this” expression.
“I’m sorry!” Blue said. “I’m so sorry. I meant, the dragons who tried to steal the Book of Clearsight. Of course the Librarian stopped them. Of course it’s safe. Um. Those dragons, though? Do you know if they got away?”
Sandfly was shaking out her wings as though they were crawling with caterpillars. “Ugh,” she said. “I’m going to have nightmares for days. What kind of traitor would steal the Book of Clearsight? That’s so obviously wrong.”
So obviously wrong. Blue stared down at his talons — the talons that had unlocked the case and lifted out the precious book. It was me. I’m the traitor. But the Librarian had wanted them to have it, when she was herself. She’d said it was time for
other dragons to know the Book’s secrets.
He decided not to mention that, in case Sandfly had another heart attack. He was also carefully avoiding the fact that one of the criminal dragons was a LeafWing, in case that wasn’t public knowledge and might set off a riot.
“Right,” he said, trying one more time. “So the queen really wanted to catch them … but did she?”
“I have no idea,” Sandfly said. She settled her wings again. “I was down here until midnight last night. No one at home mentioned any public executions yesterday, but maybe they’ll be held today or tomorrow.”
Blue managed not to gasp. Or burst into tears.
She assumes they were caught because she’s a HiveWing. But she doesn’t actually know. They might be safe.
Or they might be in another prison somewhere, waiting to be executed.
If only he could escape and go look for them. But he didn’t have Cricket’s clever ideas or Swordtail’s impulsive courage or Sundew’s helpful pouches of weapons. He was just a little wingless dragon stuck in a cavern of flame.
Still. He could at least try.
Blue spent the rest of the day exploring every corner of the flamesilk cave. He walked the entire perimeter, clambering up and down the rocks wherever he needed to. The guards by the staircase gave him weird looks as he went by, but they didn’t stop him. Nobody stopped him, although he got the distinct feeling that all the flamesilks were watching him whenever they thought he wasn’t looking.
There were three female flamesilks and seven males, most of them quite a lot older than Blue. He guessed that Admiral might be the youngest one the queen had. A couple of them seemed to stay in their nests all the time, cycling between sleeping, eating, and producing silk, without ever moving from their spots. He saw a few others get up and fly around, although they couldn’t go far. There was enough room to spread their wings, but they couldn’t soar, and there wasn’t any wind to ride.
If this is my future, will I never get to fly in the clouds? How will I even learn to fly properly, without any wind currents down here?
The guards and the flamesilks seemed to have a very precise schedule in their heads. They rotated production cycles and rest intervals in careful synchronization, so there were always at least three flamesilks working, even in the middle of the night.
Blue had covered almost the entire cave by the time his father’s turn at the cauldron was done. There were a few ledges and corners that he hadn’t figured out how to climb up to yet, but he had walked between all the stalagmites and surreptitiously poked his nose in every large gap in the rocks. So far he hadn’t found any secret passages, though.
From across the cave, he saw Sandfly drop a bucket of food beside Admiral and roll the cauldron away. He started back, his head full of questions.
“Hello, dear,” one of the flamesilks said, popping her head over the edge of her nest just as he was about to pass her. He jumped, and she giggled. “I’m Danaid. My, aren’t you a shiny one. We haven’t had any visitors in so long — and now we’ll have two new flamesilks! How delightful.” She sighed happily. Her scales were so orange she almost looked like a HiveWing, but there was no black among them; instead, flecks of white dotted her spine and long streaks of white striped her wings. She looked old enough to be Blue’s great-grandmother.
“I might not be a flamesilk,” Blue said, checking his wrists again.
“Not to worry,” she said. “I’m sure you’ll still be delightful company. Better than all these grousing old dragons anyhow. Some of them can’t keep a secret.” She shot an irritated look at the pale pink flamesilk. “And SOME of them think VERY highly of themselves.”
“I can HEAR you,” Fritillary shouted from his nest.
“We all can!” called another.
“I KNOW,” Danaid shouted back. “We’re in a CAVE! But I’m having a PRIVATE CONVERSATION, so stick your snouts somewhere else!”
“I told you, I thought you wanted me to tell Fritillary that you liked his stripes,” the pink SilkWing said in a wounded voice. “Aren’t you ever going to forgive me?”
“Well, I don’t like them anymore!” Danaid snapped. “I think they make him look skinny and arrogant and potato-brained!”
“You WISH you were as smart as a potato!” Fritillary bellowed.
“Go suck a lime!” Danaid shouted. “I hope your face gets eaten by dung beetles!”
“Now, now, settle down,” said one of the HiveWing guards in a bored voice.
“Anyway, where were we?” Danaid said to Blue, her voice suddenly all sweetness again.
“And it wasn’t my fault that Festoon overheard me telling Heliconian that you thought he was stealing all the radishes,” the pink dragon went on querulously. “You should be mad at him for eavesdropping, not meeeeeee.”
“I was,” Danaid snapped, “but he died five years ago, you half-wit.”
“Oh, right.” The pink dragon flopped sideways in his nest.
“Ignore them, sweetheart,” Danaid said to Blue.
“Is it always like this?” Blue asked. He waved his hands at the flamesilks.
“Like what?” Danaid asked cheerfully.
“The … arguing?” he tried. He’d seen at least three other shouting matches erupt that morning, while he’d been searching the cave.
“Who’s arguing?” Danaid said. “Was it old Fritillary? He’s the worst. Don’t talk to him. Xenica is terrible, too, always gossiping and bad-mouthing everyone. You already know you can’t trust Pierid over here.” The pink flamesilk let out a grumbling sigh and turned his head away from them. “Clubtail is perfectly nice, but by all the Hives, he never stops talking. Heliconian ruins everything.” She flipped her tail over the side of the nest and smiled at Blue. “Really, I’m the only one worth knowing.”
“Danaid, stop poisoning my son’s mind,” Admiral said, appearing at Blue’s side suddenly. “He’s on my side, not yours.”
“There are sides?” Blue said, confused.
“No,” Admiral said, “but Danaid is definitely on the wrong one. Let me introduce you to the dragons you should be friends with.”
Danaid hissed at him. “You can’t keep the new friends all to yourself,” she cried. “New friends are for sharing! Let him decide for himself who he wants to talk to!”
“Eat bugs, Danaid,” Admiral said sharply. He led Blue away, his snout in the air. “Isn’t she dreadful?” he said, loud enough for the orange SilkWing to overhear.
“She seemed all right to me,” Blue said.
“No,” Admiral said. “She’s dreadful.”
“What is going on?” Blue asked, bewildered.
“With what?” Admiral paused to toss Blue a tangerine, smiling.
“It’s just … you guys seems to spend a lot of time fighting with each other,” Blue pointed out.
“Do we?” Admiral looked surprised. “No more than most dragons, I’m sure.”
“Way more than the dragons I know,” Blue said.
Admiral flipped one of his wings dismissively. “Well, I suppose we’ve all been stuck together for so long. There’s bound to be a little tension here and there. Come meet Xenica, though. She’s very sweet and always has clever things to say about the others.”
Xenica shared her kale and kumquats with them and spent their entire conversation glancing around the cave to make sure everyone else saw that she was officially getting to meet the new SilkWing first. She also made a point of warning Blue away from Danaid and a few other flamesilks.
This went on with each dragon Blue met, and by the time he wound up back in his nest, he was exhausted. He couldn’t keep track of who hated who, except they all seemed to hate Fritillary, which was mutual. The cavern was seething with petty rivalries, long-held grudges, and easily provoked tempers.
He flopped down next to Luna’s cocoon and rested his head against it. He couldn’t wait for his sensible, funny, normal sister to come out.
No wonder they’re starved for new company. Being trappe
d in here for so long has turned them all super weird.
“Almost my turn again,” Admiral said, shaking his wrists out. He tapped the insides of his arms with his claws, as though hoping it would wake up his silk glands.
“Father,” Blue said, “why do you all fight with each other? Aren’t there more important enemies?”
“Like who?” Admiral asked.
“The queen. The HiveWings. The guards who imprison you here,” Blue said, lowering his voice.
“Oh, tosh,” said Admiral. “The queen is our employer. The guards keep us fed and safe and on schedule.”
Blue shook his head. How could his father not understand that this was a prison? Maybe after you’ve been here for a while, you have to convince yourself you chose this so it all feels less awful.
He’d met two dragons among the flamesilks who he suspected weren’t as resigned or falsely content as Admiral. Heliconian was restless and fidgety and glanced at the exits a lot; she also asked the only questions about the outside world and what was happening beyond the cavern. And Pierid seemed desperately unhappy, although he wouldn’t say anything bad about the HiveWings.
Also Fritillary, with his everlasting bad temper — surely he wanted to escape.
“I just think it’s silly to be so mad at each other,” Blue said, “when there are far worse things going on and dragons who are treating you far more terribly than Danaid. If you all could stop fighting and stand together, maybe you could actually change things.”
“No, no,” Admiral said firmly. “I would never work with Danaid or Clubtail or Whitespeck. They are selfish ignoramuses and wrong about everything. I can get things done through the queen.”
Blue sighed. He could see these dragons had baked their opinions of one another in a furnace and were determined to stick to their factions.
He slept poorly again that night, troubled by dreams of searching for Cricket through the dark halls of her school. No matter how many corners he turned or how many doors he opened, he never found the library. But he ran into Danaid and Fritillary and Pierid over and over again, all of them yelling over his head at someone else across the room. Then, just before he woke up, he found a room with Luna’s cocoon in it — but the threads were cut open, and no one was inside.
The Lost Continent (Wings of Fire, Book 11) Page 19
