by Lisa McMann
Crow frowned. He glanced up at the deck where Scarlet and Copper stood, looking skeptical. Fifer squinted up at them and had a funny feeling they were going to ask a lot of questions. “Okay, well, bye!” she said, and took an uneasy step back.
“Wait,” said Crow, moving toward her. “Just hang on a minute.”
“My goodness, Fifer,” said Scarlet, looking over the railing, concerned. “Are you sure you can go all by yourself? What if you can’t find the others?” Scarlet was blond and fair skinned, and her cheeks were bright red from exertion and sun. She had scars around her neck like Crow and all of the other people who had grown up on Warbler under Queen Eagala’s rule. The awful woman had used golden thorn necklaces threaded into their necks to keep them from being able to speak. Alex had long since magically eradicated the thornaments, as he’d called them, and now the Warblerans were left with scars in place of them. Some, like Sky, had hoarse voices to this day because of the awful devices.
“Yes, I’m sure,” said Fifer with confidence she wasn’t quite feeling. “I know my way around there better than any of them. And I have lots of supplies with me.”
Crow remained skeptical. He’d spent many years with the twins, and he knew better than to believe that everything had happened the way Fifer had laid out. “Did Florence really tell you—to your face, in those exact words—that it was okay for you to go?”
“Well, no,” said Fifer, shifting her gaze away, “not to my face. But she told me in a note to do what I needed to do, and she gave me a drawing so I can send her a seek spell if I need to. So that seemed pretty much like permission to me.”
“Oh, Fifer,” said Crow, like he’d said so many times in her life.
Fifer scowled and produced the note as proof. “Here, see?” She shoved it at him.
Crow studied it. “Well,” he said, looking doubtful, “I have a feeling she expected you to maybe get in touch with her before you headed out, but . . .”
“It’s too late now,” said Fifer. She took another step back in case he was going to try to stop her, but he saw what she was doing.
“Look, just take it easy,” he said. “I’m not going to send you home. I’m just . . . I’m trying to decide how I feel about it. I’m worried about you being alone over there. Like Scarlet said, what if you can’t find them? With your black eyes you’ll be in danger every moment.”
Scarlet looked at Crow with a concerned expression. “Crow,” she said. “Maybe you should . . . you know.”
He glanced up at the women and nodded at Scarlet. “Yeah, I think so too. Mother?”
Copper nodded, and she and Scarlet started down the ladder to the ground.
Crow turned to Fifer. “Any chance you’ve got enough food for me in your pack?”
Fifer’s eyes widened. “You’re coming with me?” She wasn’t sure how to feel, but surprisingly, the first emotion that came over her was one of relief. If any other person in the world had offered, Fifer might have stubbornly refused. But Crow was like a brother—not an overbearing brother like Alex, but the nice kind of older brother who takes you on adventures and lets you do things your real brother never would.
“May I?” asked Crow. “Is there enough room for me in your bird hammock? Can they handle an additional passenger?”
That was another thing, Fifer thought. Crow wasn’t pushy or demanding. He asked politely. Fifer liked that in a brother. “There are so many birds,” she said. “They should be fine to carry us and Thisbe, once we find her.” And then she grew somber. “But we might have to fight once we get to the land of the dragons.”
“Oh.” Crow wrinkled up his nose as Scarlet and Copper joined him. “Boo fighting.”
“I’ll protect you, though. You don’t have to do anything.”
A smile played at Crow’s lips. “Thanks, Fig. I appreciate that. Is there time for me to gather some things?”
Fifer glanced at the sun’s position in the sky. “I suppose we have a few minutes. We can meet on the front beach.”
As Crow turned to go, Scarlet gave him a secret sort of smile and touched his arm. He touched her hand and smiled back.
Fifer stared at them. They were acting weirder than usual. Everybody knew that Crow had a crush on Scarlet, but he’d never done anything about it. What in the world was going on here? Then Scarlet kissed Crow’s cheek, and he grew embarrassed. Fifer felt heat rise to her face. A kiss? Were they suddenly in love or something? Feeling super awkward, Fifer yelled, “Okay, bye!” and turned and ran for the entrance to the tunnel, which was faster than going through the brush aboveground. Since Crow had left Artimé to spend a few weeks here, everything had become weird. She didn’t know what to think.
When she got back to the hammock, she told the birds that Crow was coming, and they seemed to be fine with the news of a heavier load. Several minutes later, Crow emerged from behind the palm fronds carrying a small kit bag and a few jugs of water. He stopped to take in Fifer’s hammock-and-bird contraption and shake his head a little in awe. “How did you manage this? Actually, never mind. Sometimes it’s better if I don’t know the answers.”
Fifer grinned. “Come on. Just sit here next to me.”
Crow joined her on the canvas. Shimmer spiiirrred, and the other birds flew in from the trees where they’d been resting. This time half of the birds found spots holding ropes, clearly preparing for the heavier load.
Fifer was pleased to see it. “These birds are exceptional,” she confided as they began lifting off.
“Exceptional, really? They do seem quite, um, capable. I hope.”
“I made it all the way here, didn’t I?”
“Very good point.”
As they went up into the air, Crow looked back at the island, straining to see the shipyard. He waved his arm wildly at Scarlet, making the hammock sway. Fifer blushed again. In her mind Crow belonged to her and Thisbe, and it was strange to see him giving so much attention to somebody else—especially that kind of attention. But Fifer knew that Crow had liked Scarlet forever, so she supposed she was happy that he seemed to be getting closer to her. It just might take a little while for her to get used to it.
After a minute, Crow turned back around and settled in. “Oh my,” he said as the birds found their wing rhythm and began riding the wind westward. “We’re really moving.”
“I know,” said Fifer. “I didn’t know falcons could fly so fast.”
“You’ve really trained them a lot since I’ve been gone.” He glanced at the water below them. “What happens if they drop us?”
“Oh, they’ll probably come after us and fish us out of the water,” said Fifer with confidence.
Crow nodded. “I hope you’re right.”
“They do whatever I tell them to do.”
“Somehow I believe that,” said Crow. “You’ve always had a way with birds. It’s great you finally figured out what to do with them.”
“Hopefully they’ll help us find Thisbe.”
Crow shrugged. Stranger things had happened with the magical twins—he was the last person to doubt Fifer when it came to this sort of thing. “As long as I don’t have to learn magic, I’m good.”
“Well,” said Fifer doubtfully. “I mean, there are tons of soldiers everywhere, so you might end up in a fight. Do you have any weapons or anything?”
“I’ve got my slingshot and a pocketful of stones. Oh, and Scarlet gave me these.” He pulled out a handful of red heart components. “She told me how to use them in case I really got into trouble.”
“Heart attack components?” said Fifer in awe. Florence hadn’t given her any of those. Using one would knock somebody unconscious. Using three at once was lethal—Fifer had learned that from Lani’s book in the part where Aaron had killed Mr. Today. Fifer wondered idly if she would ever use three instead of one. Unlike Thisbe, Fifer had never killed anyone. But she didn’t think she’d hesitate too much if it was really necessary. Of course, that kind of decision was a long way off, since Fifer’d only bee
n given temporary spell components. She could worry about that later.
Crow nodded and put them back into his pocket without giving Fifer any. She pressed her lips together, almost about to inquire if she could have just one, but it seemed like too much to ask since it was the only spell Crow knew. Maybe she’d better show him that she could do a simpler spell first before she convinced him to give her some.
They talked some more, Crow catching Fifer up on how he and his mother were doing after Sky’s disappearance. “It’s very hard,” he admitted. “Sky and I have been through a lot together. We almost died on our raft when we escaped Warbler. We thought we lost our mother for good, but then we found her. And now, when all was finally going really well . . .” His eyes became misty. “I miss her so much it makes my stomach hurt.”
He went on to tell Fifer that his mother was handling the news better now than at first. She was feeling numb, and working on the ships helped her try to get back to feeling normal, at least a little. “My mother doesn’t want to accept that Sky is gone, but I can’t imagine there’s any way she’s still alive.”
Fifer nodded somberly.
“Scarlet has been a good friend to us both through all of this,” Crow said carefully. He glanced at Fifer, like he expected her to need to process this change in his personal status. “She’s been there whenever I needed to talk.”
“That’s nice,” Fifer said. “She’s . . . nice. I like her.” Still awkward but getting easier, Fifer noted. That would have to do for now.
“Yes.” He resettled himself more comfortably in the hammock. After a moment he said, “It’s odd, you and me being together without Thisbe. It feels like we’re missing a piece of our group.”
Fifer nodded, feeling suddenly melancholy. She tried not to let her worries bubble up. That wouldn’t help anything. She looked up at him and saw his easygoing grin as the wind caught his long hair and blew it behind him. She grinned back. Crow was so calm and gentle and good—he’d been such a big part of her life. Even though they were suffering so much over Sky and Thisbe, it felt like everything would be okay now that he was here. And together they were going to find their missing piece.
A Wrench in Thisbe’s Plan
Rohan and Thisbe met in the tunnel between their crypts every other night after he returned from his long trek. Thisbe told him about her work and how she feared that someday soon she’d be dragging four bones a day. She showed him the cuts that the harness had made in her shoulders.
Rohan sympathized and pointed at his shoes, which were quickly falling apart from so many miles of walking. “The Revinir wishes me to bring her the bones of the most ancient human rulers,” he said. “Conveniently kept in the crypt farthest away from here.”
“Of course they would be. You said the catacombs actually connect to the castle dungeon? So you could get in there if you wanted to?” She wondered if that might be the best way to escape since she knew her way around the dungeon a little.
“There’s a thick old door separating our side from theirs. But it’s heavily protected by sentries. The Revinir’s blue-uniformed soldiers on our side, the king’s green-uniformed soldiers on the palace’s side. I’ve started making friends with our soldiers at that end, and one told me that it’s so heavily guarded to make sure none of the miscreants in the castle dungeon can get out—I guess there was some sort of uprising down there recently. The Revinir’s captive dragons escaped.”
Thisbe grinned to herself. She hadn’t yet told Rohan about the part she’d played in that.
Rohan went on, his face concerned. “The problem is, the king didn’t confess it to the Revinir right away, so she just found out about it a few days ago. She was positively boiling over it, Thisbe. Spitting fire. I worry . . .” Rohan hesitated and shook his head. “I worry for Grimere, and for us. If the king doesn’t give proper restitution to the Revinir for the dragons he lost, the two leaders will be at odds. The Revinir isn’t going to just forgive him. It’s troublesome.”
“What are you saying?” asked Thisbe.
Rohan looked up. “I suppose I’m saying this could spark a war between them.” He noticed Thisbe’s frightened face and relaxed a little, waving his hand to try to erase what he’d just said. “It’ll probably never come to that. And the king has already started offering her things as payback, so they’re sorting it out. I guess I just have too much time to imagine what-ifs on my journey.” His smile was strained. “Please don’t worry about it. Perhaps the king will come through with something tremendous to appease the Revinir.”
“I hope so.” Thisbe breathed a little easier. She wasn’t sure what a war would mean for the black-eyed slaves—would they just stay down here or be forced to fight for the Revinir? Against the king?
“Anyway,” Rohan went on, lighter now, “about the Revinir’s soldiers stationed at the door to the dungeon—which is what we were talking about before I turned all grim and brooding—I’m sure they’re trying just as hard to keep us from finding a way out as they are to keep their prisoners in.” He yawned and scratched his back on the rough rock wall, then slid into a more comfortable position. “I’ve heard it’s a maze down there, though. Impossible to find your way through.”
“I’ll say,” said Thisbe, a bit smugly.
“Oh, will you?” Rohan said, teasing her.
His teasing smile fell away when Thisbe told him about her time in the dungeon and about how she and her twin sister, Fifer, and their friend Seth had helped the young dragons escape . . . or at least she’d been hoping they’d escaped. “I don’t want a war, but I’m glad to know the dragons made it out,” she said.
“Oh yes. They’re long gone.”
Long gone. Like Simber. “How do you know all of this?” asked Thisbe after a time. “The dragons, I mean, and the stuff about the king?”
“I talk to the Revinir’s soldiers, who talk to the king’s soldiers.”
“And they just tell you stuff so willingly?”
“I give them things so they like me. Bits of gold. Stuff I steal from the extracting room.”
“Ah. So you bribe them with stolen items?”
“If you must call it that,” said Rohan with an evil smile. “I’m not a hundred percent good, you know.”
Thisbe laughed. “Okay, anyway, can you explain this gold thing to me? I never understood what the big deal was about it,” said Thisbe. “The Revinir, back when she was called Queen Eagala on Warbler Island, used to make her people forge golden thorns. She would string them around people’s necks to stop them from being able to talk.”
Rohan blinked. “What a horror. She really did that?”
Thisbe nodded. “And she changed their eyes to orange so they’d be easily identified if they ever tried to escape.”
“Like branding them,” said Rohan. “She put her mark on them.”
Thisbe nodded.
“And now she’s put her new brand on us,” Rohan said, running his finger over the back of his neck. “Does yours still hurt?”
“No.” Thisbe touched her brand too. It was scratchy with dried scabs, some of which had already fallen off. “I don’t understand why she has to do such violent things. I mean, she’s got us captured and doing her work for her. Why does she need to brand us too?”
“She’s obviously not right in the head,” said Rohan. “To ingest dragon-bone marrow for its magical properties, and to delight in dragon scales growing thick on her skin? That’s deranged.”
Thisbe agreed, even though she wasn’t quite sure what deranged meant. She wished for a library like the one in Artimé so she could look things up. But without that, she could at least guess what Rohan meant. It didn’t sound like a nice word.
Rohan rested his eyes for a few moments while Thisbe thought through all she’d learned. After a while she sat up, startling Rohan awake again. “She’s got a new assistant instead of me,” Thisbe told him.
Rohan nodded as though he knew about it, but he didn’t interrupt.
“Yet sh
e still keeps trying to convince me to help her. She says . . .” Thisbe hesitated. For some reason she didn’t want to talk about how the Revinir had told her she was more evil than good—besides, Rohan had heard her say it the first time. He knew the truth about her, and it didn’t seem to bother him. Instead, she went in a different direction. “She’s going to keep adding bones to my workload. I’m already struggling with three, but I’m due for another one any day now—I can feel it. I won’t be able to do four. No way. I wonder if maybe . . .” She grew quiet, thinking.
“Maybe what?” prompted Rohan.
“Maybe I should give in. I mean, she’s right. It’s obvious nobody’s coming back for me. Will I have more chances of getting out of here if I work with her? If I can get her to trust me?”
Rohan tapped his chin, thinking aloud. “Hmm. Interesting. And why not give in? Why not be her assistant? Maybe that will give you some power. And perhaps you can find out her weaknesses or even her secrets if you work with her all day.”
“Exactly.” Thisbe wrinkled her nose. “Working with her sounds awful.”
“But like you said, it might give you a better opportunity to escape. Because you still want to, right? Even after you told the Revinir you no longer did?”
Thisbe looked hard at him. Again a ribbon of doubt sliced through her—could she trust him? Was he so good that he would feel compelled to tell the Revinir about her plans?
At this point, Thisbe decided, she couldn’t not trust him. She had no one else in the world, and without help, she might never escape. Before she could change her mind, she blurted out, “Yes, I still want to escape. Do you? Will you help me? Will you escape with me?”
Rohan looked solemnly at her and nodded. “I never thought I could get out of here alone. But I believe if we work together, we might succeed. Especially if you can make your fiery magic work properly.” He hesitated. “A lot of the guards already favor me, and I’m being extra good to them lately so they trust me more. If you can get cozy with the Revinir and find out some things, well . . . I think it’s worth the attempt, anyway.”
