Silver nibbled on her bottom lip. Brajon grinned, knowing he’d convinced her. Her laughter bubbled over.
“Run, Silver,” Brajon said.
And they ran, darting down stairs and beneath stone archways. They picked up even more speed as soon as they left the city borders, where loose ground and stunted, gnarled trees created a line between civilization and the desert wilds.
Silver’s heart beat so fast she thought it might fly away into the fading twilight. But then she tripped over her own feet and went rolling in the sandy gravel and sage of the lower desert. She lay on her back, laughing up at the ink-blue sky.
Brajon came back and helped her up. “Don’t break something before we even start racing!”
They were off again, sprinting to catch up to another group of kids. The farther they went down the trail to the vast deserts, the more barren the landscape became.
Brajon paused. Before them, the smooth caramel-colored dunes rose into the sky.
“Race you up!”
Silver started several paces ahead of Brajon, but her party slippers sank into the sand. In no time her legs were burning with the strain of climbing the dune. She gasped for breath and used her hands to help her up to the top.
“How … do you do this … over and over … again?” she asked Brajon, who panted beside her.
He laughed and flexed his biceps. “You get strong!”
Silver rolled her eyes and pushed herself with another burst of energy. Soon enough she reached the summit where several kids were waiting for them. They took a moment to compare the dragon breeds painted on their boards, then lined up as though it were a real race.
Brajon set his dune board on the sand and arranged the tip of it to face straight down the dune. “Climb on,” he told Silver.
A tiny squeal stopped her from getting on the dune board. She looked over her shoulder. One of the kids—a boy Brajon knew from the mines—had somehow grabbed a desert fox by the ruff and was swinging it in a circle.
“Stop that,” Silver said, sprinting over to him. “Let the fox go.”
“They’re rodents,” the boy said. He dangled the little animal away from his body as it yelped.
Silver didn’t stop to think. She dove at the boy.
As the boy kicked, one of his legs caught her across the chest. Silver grunted and fell to the sand. The fox, dropped in the tussle, paused to sniff her once, then ran and disappeared into the desert.
“See?” the boy said. “The rodent couldn’t even chirp a thanks for saving its life.”
Silver got to her hands and knees and caught her breath. Brajon came over and shoved the boy in the chest.
“Leave my cousin alone,” he said.
“Don’t hurt foxes,” Silver rasped. Brajon helped her to her feet and walked with her back to his dune board.
“Forget about that two-faced scorpion. No wonder there’s a Dwakka painted on his board,” Brajon said. “Let’s just ride.”
Silver nodded. But the excitement she’d felt as she’d climbed the dune had faded, and nerves had taken its place. The dunes seemed as high as the top of the Jaspaton cliffs, level with the clouds.
Still, she placed her feet on the dune board, hip width apart. The silver threads decorating her tunic flashed like moonbeams.
“Bend your knees a little,” Brajon said. “And hold your arms out for balance, like this. Everyone will count, and when they say go, I’ll give you a push. Ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“One … two…” Brajon didn’t let the other kids get to three. With a shout, he shoved Silver in the side and sent her down the dune.
“Cheater,” she yelled as the nose of the dune board tipped down. It took her less than a second to tighten her muscles and find her balance. And once she did, she soared.
Her braid whipped behind her, her scarf trailing long. She narrowed her eyes to keep the stinging sand out of them. She flew and flew down the dune. Within moments, she was turning the board left and right, making snake tracks across the sand. Whoops and hollers came from above. She looked to see several of the kids chasing after her. Brajon remained at the top, his hands pumping the air as he cheered.
All the clumsiness Silver displayed when she was on her own feet disappeared. A thrilling thought flicked through her mind: This must be what it’s like to ride water dragons.
When she reached the bottom, the dune board slid to a stop. Silver pitched forward, her arms flailing, and toppled off. She lay still in the sand, catching her breath, reveling in the moment.
“Decodro wins,” Brajon shouted from the top.
“Fun, huh?” Mohad, one of the politicians’ sons, said, peering over at her.
“The most amazing thing I’ve ever done,” Silver said.
She grinned, grabbed the board, and ran up the dune again.
They spent the hours leading to dawn riding down the dunes, then staggering back up them. Brajon and Silver took turns with his board. With each ride, Silver grew more and more confident. Her snake tracks got wider, she spun in circles, and she squatted low and dragged her hand in the sand as she flew down the slope. She felt weightless, strong, and fast. She wanted to feel that way forever.
Silver set the board in the sand, ready for her last run. She looked all around, from the pale cliffs of Jaspaton before her, dotted with homes carved into the stone facade, to the vast reaches of deep desert behind. Just past the desert, she imagined she could see the sea, even if it was just the watery expanse of horizon, colored pale blue by a setting full moon.
Silver sighed. Sometimes, she loved her home. In the morning, the light was golden through her window, and in the evenings, the city sparkled with the jeweled colors of thousands of gemstone lanterns hanging on every level.
But she was ready to leave it all behind.
“Ready?” Brajon climbed on behind her. They would ride together this last time, so that no one was left stranded at the top. He kicked off, and they shot down the dune. The descent was faster this time, with their combined weight, and Silver loved the pressure of the wind on her cheeks.
She was meant for speed.
The kids waiting at the bottom walked back to the city with Silver and Brajon. They all talked and laughed and recounted their rides.
“I’ve never seen someone get so good so fast,” Mohad said.
Silver beamed. “Thanks.”
They entered the city, sending pebbles skittering around with their dragging feet. “The way you cut back and forth across the dune”—Brajon nodded in admiration—“no wonder your father never let you ride. If he knew how good you’d be … I can’t believe that was your first ride!”
“Do you think riding water dragons—”
“Your first ride?” Silver started at the sound of her father’s voice. “Certainly your last.” Rami Batal walked out of the shadows, his eyes flashing with anger.
Silver’s stomach flipped. She had been so caught up in the excitement that she hadn’t seen her father standing at the city entrance. She wondered how long he had been waiting for them to return. She hastily lifted her trailing scarf off the ground, but all that did was display the ragged, fraying edges, front and center. There was no way she was going to convince her father that she had only stood at the bottom of the dune and watched. Even if he hadn’t heard Brajon talking. Without another word, he took Silver by the elbow and hauled her home.
FIVE
The next morning, the fire in the ele-jewelers’ workshop roared with life, pushing the metallic tang of molten metal into every corner. Concentrating students surrounded tables littered with drawings, tools, and uncut gems. Queen Imea and Sagittaria Wonder were due to arrive in Jaspaton the next day, and everyone was in a frenzy.
Silver hammered a warm slab of gold, intending to make a cup. Her hands moved automatically, but her mind skipped far, far away. What does the palace look like? What are the water dragon training grounds like? A desert city on the sea … There must be hundreds of d
ragons there for me to ride.
“Batal!”
A sharp, painful rap on the back of Silver’s hand brought her out of her reverie. The metalwork teacher, Gama, stood over her with an expression as dark as desert storm clouds. He would have always hated Silver, simply for being Rami’s daughter—Gama’s family had once tried and failed to take over the Batal workshop—but his dislike intensified with every clumsy project she presented him.
The six other students in the room snickered. Phila, Gama’s daughter and the eldest in the class, shook her head slowly. Failure, she mouthed.
Silver looked down. She’d hammered her goblet into an unidentifiable mess.
“And finally,” Gama said, “understanding dawns on the ele-jeweler’s face.”
Under her breath, Silver said, “Someday—”
“Someday, you’ll live up to the Batal name? Unlikely.” Gama still held his jeweler’s loupe, ready to rap her knuckles once more. Silver winced in anticipation.
“Gama,” Rami Batal boomed as he entered the room with more materials for the students. “What inspired work is this daughter of mine doing today?”
Gama whirled around, a smile creeping like a dung beetle up one side of his face. “She—”
“I’m really close to getting it right,” Silver said, thrusting forward the mess.
Her father came closer, bowing over the lump of gold. He frowned, but only for a moment. No one else saw it but Silver.
“Good, good!” he said, straightening up again. “Gama, I need to borrow my ele-jeweler now. I have a special project for her.”
Gama’s lips pursed. “Special project?”
“Secret project,” Rami Batal said. He winked at Silver.
Her toes curled in her boots as she recalled his mention of a secret at Brajon’s party. Probably some sort of secret chore.
“It’s almost midday,” Silver told her father. “I have a lot to do. I…”
She looked from her father to her teacher and back again. If she didn’t sneak to Nebekker’s house as soon as possible, there was no way she was going to complete her riding suit in time.
“You can’t be doing anything as important as what I need,” Rami said. “Come along, Silver. A good midday to you, Gama.”
“Good midday, Rami—and ele-jeweler.”
As soon as Gama’s back was turned, Silver made a face. Just ele-jeweler. She had a name.
Rami marched out of the teaching workshop. Silver followed, her feet scuffing the stone pathway. There had to be some emergency she could make up. Her thoughts darted around like desert foxes playing on the dunes.
“There is a great hero coming tomorrow,” her father said suddenly.
She froze. Other than Brajon and Nebekker, no one knew Silver idolized Sagittaria Wonder. It was safer to keep the racer to herself. Writing fan letters was one thing. But having a hero who wasn’t Rami Batal? That felt wrong, somehow.
But then, her father had said a hero, not her hero.
“Keep walking, Silver. You must come out of your dreamworld and pay more attention to the present.” Up ahead, Rami drew his arm wide. “Look at these beautiful lands. An ancient city full of our family’s great history, the valley to the north to raise food and wool, an underground river that swells with rushing water in the spring, and all the raw materials a craftsman like me could hope for. Old lore says this land was touched by ancient goddesses. They buried all their treasures under our sand for us to find, bit by bit. My daughter, we have everything we need here.”
Her father took her fingers in his. “Even Queen Imea wants to come see our riches. She arrives tomorrow. And with her, the great water dragon racer, Sagittaria Wonder. I have been working on a secret project to impress her. A racing cup for the spring festival.”
Silver worried her father would notice that her palms were sweating.
Her father went on. “First this cup, and then my masterpiece for the queen. It has been my life’s work to return glory to my family, and it comes to this moment. For all of us … For you and your future.”
“I know,” Silver said miserably.
Rami let go of her fingers and continued walking. “I want you to share the moment with me. Let’s show the world we are Batals! I want you to add your own special touch to the racing cup.”
Silver tried to swallow, but it felt like sand was coating her throat. Her father’s smile was wide, though his eyes were cautious. They both knew this was a big step for her … and they both knew she could mess it up.
They reached the Batal family workshop. Silver took in a breath of familiar air. She’d grown up in this space: She crawled on the floor covered with thick, colorful rugs; played with her father’s jeweler’s instruments like they were toys; even took meals in the workshop, sitting on her mother’s lap while her father worked late into the night.
Rami Batal led Silver to a table at the back of the workshop, on top of which sat a tall cloth-covered project. Her father pulled the fabric away.
“Here it is. My design for the Island Nations Spring Festival cup.”
Silver gasped and felt her chest swell with pride at her father’s work. The gold-and-gemstone cup gleamed with a rainbow of marvels and meticulous metalwork. The Island Nations supplied the cup for the Desert Nations Autumn Festival qualifying races, and the desert royals returned the favor for the Spring Festival final, where the biggest race of the year crowned the world’s grand champion. For jewelers, there was no greater honor than having their handiwork selected to represent their homeland.
But even as Silver admired the cup, she didn’t see how she could ever enhance its beauty.
Her father beamed and turned the cup so the back—polished gently to reveal all the setting-sun colors of the gold—faced them.
“See here along the bottom? I saved that spot for a very special person. I know you’ve been working on hammering metal in class. I want you to design a simple pattern here. Perhaps something that would put the viewer in mind of our desert dunes.” Rami faced his daughter. “Silver, I want us to present this cup to Queen Imea and Sagittaria Wonder together.”
Silver swallowed, hard, and blinked rapidly. She longed to tell her father about her dreams to be a water dragon racer—to bring a new kind of glory to the Batal family. Her chin tipped up and her chest pressed forward and her mouth opened, and the whole workshop began to spin with dizzying light and color and sparkle, but …
No words came out.
Silver simply couldn’t tell her father the truth. Not when he looked at her like that: like she was his ele-jeweler.
Silver cleared her throat. “I’ll try.”
Her father gathered materials, then stoked the fire in the depths of the workshop. Rami gave Silver an encouraging smile before brushing through the curtain that separated the workshop from the showroom.
She sighed and warmed the gold around the bottom of the cup, then began. Hammering was a detailed task, but as her clank, clanks sounded through the workshop, her thoughts drifted.
Who would want boring dunes on a winner’s cup? Silver knew a better option was something that captured the beauty and the power of a water dragon. She closed her eyes and pictured the only real dragon she’d ever seen. It was seven years ago when she’d snuck into a trader’s wagon, lured by a gentle and sweet snore.
There, tucked in a wooden cage at the front, was a small sleeping creature, its tail coiled twice around its body. When Silver knocked over a bottle, the little orange dragon’s eyes popped open. They were the dazzling blue of sapphires. The dragon yawned but didn’t uncurl. It tucked its face deeper into its tail, gazing at Silver the whole time, but the corners of its eyes crinkled, and Silver smiled back. When a giggle escaped from her, the trader called a Hello? from outside the wagon. Silver rolled beneath the fabric cover and out the side, then ran for home.
Now, she pulled herself out of her memories and groaned at her work. Uneven dings and dents littered the formerly smooth surface halfway up the sides. She sighed
and pushed the ruined part of the cup close to the heat with a pair of long tongs, to soften the metal again.
She’d loved meeting that little dragon on that day so long ago. She wondered what had happ—
She screamed and yanked her hands back. Searing pain ripped through her forearm, and she clenched her teeth as she cradled her wrist to her chest. The cup clanked to the ground.
“Silver!” her father shouted, rushing back into the workshop. “What happened?”
The pain was excruciating, but Silver pushed it down. “The fire popped and caught me,” she said.
She tucked her arm behind her back so he couldn’t see how badly she was burned. “It’s nothing. I’m sorry—I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Are you sure?” Rami Batal frowned, but as he reached for her arm, he caught sight of the cup on the floor. He bent down and slowly picked it up. Silver’s heart sank as she saw the large dent in its side.
“Silver, what have you done? I give you an opportunity to be a part of my proudest moment, and this is what you offer? You can’t even focus for one minute, daydreaming all day about … about … water dragons.” His voice shook, and for a moment, he raised the cup as though he were going to throw it against the workshop wall, but instead he lowered it.
Silver opened her mouth to apologize, but Rami held up his hand and shook his head.
“Enough.” Her father wiped his palm across his forehead. “Silver, I need you out of the workshop if I’m to fix your mistake in time.”
Silver’s eyes filled with tears as her father led her out by the arm, her burn throbbing with the beat of a Jaspaton festival drum.
SIX
Not even the breezes of late afternoon swirling lazily through Jaspaton could cool Silver’s flushed face as her father took her up two flights of stairs toward the yarnsladies’ tents.
When Silver realized where they were going, part of her flashed with relief. The other part of her flared with an emotion she didn’t quite understand. Why couldn’t her father see what everyone, even Gama, could see? Silver had no talent for metals or jewels, no matter how much Rami wanted her to.
Silver Batal and the Water Dragon Races Page 3
