by Lisa McMann
They stayed up late talking about the plan, and eventually Thisbe decided it was inevitable—she wouldn’t be able to continue her job with more dragon bones. So she agreed to make the most of the situation.
As Thisbe stared off, thinking things through, Rohan dozed again.
“I wonder who the new assistant is,” she mused. “Maybe he could be useful.”
“What’s that?” said Rohan, jolting awake.
“I said I wonder who the new assistant is. Is it one of the other slaves here?”
“No. He’s actually part of the king’s payback for the dragons that I mentioned earlier—one of his slaves. My sources tell me the king’s daughter, Princess Shanti, got mad at her whipping boy and said she didn’t want him anymore. So the king immediately offered him up when the Revinir found out about the dragons’ escape.”
Thisbe’s stomach lurched. “What?” she whispered. “Princess Shanti’s servant boy is . . . here? He’s the assistant?” Her mind was spinning.
“That’s what the soldier gossip is. I don’t know his name, but I suppose you’ll meet him soon enough.”
Thisbe blinked, trying to figure out what it all meant. “Dev,” she said softly, and then she looked at Rohan. “His name is Dev.”
A Dark Venture
The next morning when Mangrel opened Thisbe’s door, the Revinir was standing there with him. The woman didn’t bother asking Thisbe if she’d be her assistant this time. She simply said, “Four bones.”
Thisbe had to think fast. She hadn’t prepared for the Revinir to show up at her door—she’d just intended to tell Mangrel she was giving up and have him show her to the ruler. Now she scrambled to make her plan work. She kept her chin up and gazed at the woman’s pale, wrinkled face. “I can’t do four,” said Thisbe. “It’s too heavy. It’s too much.” She dropped her gaze.
The Revinir didn’t try to hide how pleased she was. “You could take two trips a day,” she suggested. “You might still have time for a couple hours of sleep each night. Though you’d miss dinner. You wouldn’t last many days that way.”
Thisbe stared at the dirt floor and was quiet, as if she were considering it.
“Or you could work with me,” said the woman. “Those are your options. Which do you choose?”
Thisbe glanced at Mangrel, who stood at attention, his face showing no emotion. Then she looked at the Revinir again and despaired. “I guess I have no choice. I won’t live long without any meals.”
“Precisely,” said the Revinir. She grew more reserved and clicked her long fingernails against each other. “Come along, then. Bring three dragon bones with you. We’re starting a new project today. How convenient to have you to help me and my new assistant just when we need you. I timed that quite well, didn’t I?”
When no one answered, the Revinir glanced at the crypt keeper. “Didn’t I, Mangrel?”
Mangrel frowned slightly, then answered, “Yes, ma’am.”
Thisbe took her morning pitcher of water and drank it slowly, staring at the Revinir over the rim the whole time, which she hoped was unnerving. When she finished, she wiped her mouth with her singed sleeve and handed the pitcher back to Mangrel, then turned away and harnessed three bones to herself. She dragged them into the hallway and followed the Revinir in the opposite direction she’d normally go.
Thisbe watched the symbols on the walls, wondering which one of them pointed to the Revinir’s quarters. Eventually she determined that a crown symbol next to a purple directional arrow was the one to follow. She noted that the red arrows that pointed to the extraction room would return her to the hallway where her crypt was, so she wouldn’t have to worry about getting lost on her way back.
The path to the Revinir’s quarters twisted and turned, and the woman walked briskly. Thisbe followed, falling several steps behind because of her heavy load. Eventually they came to a group of soldiers who were guarding the entrance to a side hallway. When they saw the Revinir, they parted to let her and Thisbe through, and the woman spoke to them while Thisbe caught up. This side hallway had gold stone walls rather than the gray rock walls of the rest of the underground. The doors were covered in jewels. It reminded Thisbe a bit of the castle, and for a moment Thisbe wondered if the Revinir was trying to turn the catacombs into a showy underground palace.
The woman went through one of the bejeweled doors and Thisbe went after her. The place shone with gaudy baubles and golden trinkets. Thisbe grimaced, finding it ugly. They passed through the entry room and continued into a huge kitchen, where enormous cauldrons sat near fire pits. Smoke curled up to the high ceiling and disappeared through a metal vent. Thisbe wondered if it led to the outside somehow, and if so, was the opening big enough for a girl her size? It didn’t seem likely.
“You can unhitch the bones. You’ll be working in here,” the Revinir declared. “But first we’re going to have a little chat.” Thisbe slipped the harness off. They went back out of the kitchen and into a room nearby that had a throne in it, sitting atop a short pedestal. Thisbe nearly laughed at how ridiculous it looked. Did the woman actually sit there sometimes? If so, why? To feel important? Down here, there were only some soldiers and slaves around to be in awe over her—and Thisbe certainly wasn’t impressed.
The Revinir stepped up to the throne and sat down ceremoniously. The hem of her robe rose up when she sat, revealing luminescent scales of all colors around her ankles. It was creepy. Thisbe stood on the floor, unsure of what she was supposed to do.
“Tell me about your magic,” the woman demanded. “How did you destroy my birds?”
Thisbe almost corrected her like she’d done before, but then decided not to bother. The Revinir might as well think she’d done that, too. “I don’t know how I did it. I was two.”
“What else can you do? You sent sparks at my soldiers when they branded you. How did you do that?”
“It just happens. I can’t control it,” Thisbe said easily, even though it was no longer true. She’d repeated that line her whole life. “It’s just some little sparky thing—it doesn’t do much.”
“And? What more?”
“Nothing much,” said Thisbe. “Not without spell components.”
The Revinir frowned and stared at Thisbe, like she was trying to determine if she was lying. Thisbe stared back, convincing herself to believe everything she’d just said—she wasn’t sure what the woman could do with her dragon abilities, but it seemed like dragons might be able to know if someone was telling the truth. So she assumed the same for the Revinir. It was unsettling, thinking about how many lies Thisbe had told down here. There were a lot. If lies were evil, Thisbe was starting to wonder if the Revinir’s assessment of her being more evil than good might actually be true.
She didn’t want to think about it. “What can you do?” Thisbe asked her.
The Revinir seemed taken aback by the direct question. Her face clouded. “A lot more than you.”
“I didn’t know it was a competition,” said Thisbe, feeling like she was talking to a child. She sniffed and looked around the throne room. “What do you want me to do here, anyway?”
“First you’ll be helping me develop a new product to sell in Dragonsmarche. We’ll see how well you do with that. Mostly I want you nearby so I can keep my eye on you.”
“You could always just let me go. Then you wouldn’t have to worry about me at all.”
“Oooh no, my dear,” said the Revinir. “You’re much too valuable.”
Thisbe stiffened at the term of endearment.
“Besides,” said the woman, softening her tone a bit. “We can do great things together.”
Thisbe’s eyes narrowed. “Like what?”
“Well,” said the Revinir, “to my knowledge, you and I are the only magical people in Grimere. Isn’t that fascinating? And I’m growing more powerful by the moment with my dragon magic injections.”
“You’re injecting that bone marrow stuff?” asked Thisbe. “That’s disgusting.”
&n
bsp; “Ah, but I’m a wonderful showcase for the new product we’ll be creating, and soon I’ll be richer than the king. Of course, we won’t be selling the same strength of magic that I use for myself—that would be absurd to let anyone become as powerful as me.”
Thisbe stared. “What?”
The Revinir continued. “I believe there’s a way to reap the benefits of the dragon bones on a less potent level, however, through bone broth. I’m testing it out in my kitchen, and I’ve already begun experimenting on my test subject. It’s risky, sure. But the bones are plentiful, and there is a great amount of gold to be made if I’m successful. The pirates will pay top prices once they see what I’ve done, and the townspeople will be astounded and beg for more. But the timing is very important.” She paused, deep in thought.
Thisbe silently freaked out.
“Once I buy the kingdom, or take it by force, we’ll defeat my worst enemy once and for all. He’ll never know what hit him.”
“Your worst enemy?” asked Thisbe, suspecting she meant Alex, but hoping otherwise. “You mean the king?”
The Revinir eyed her. “The king is my pawn. He made a grave mistake in letting my dragons escape, and he’ll pay for it. But I’ll finish him off when his usefulness has run out. I’m talking about someone far more powerful. Someone from another land.”
Thisbe didn’t know of any other lands besides her own. “Do you mean the pirates? But you said you were going to sell this stuff to them.”
“No, not the pirates.” She smiled down at the girl. “I’m talking about your brother.”
Thisbe stared as if she were shocked to hear it. “My brother? You mean Alex?”
“Yes. The one who left you here and never came back. That’s what a horrible person he is.”
Thisbe reared back at the inaccurate portrayal of her brother. “He—he’s not—” she stammered. “He’s not horrible.”
“Then why, Miss Stowe, hasn’t he come back for you? Why hasn’t anyone come back for you? Surely someone would, unless the ruler of your world commanded them not to.”
Thisbe fought with her words, trying to find the ones to protest what the awful woman was saying. “You don’t know him at all!” she cried.
“Maybe he’s trying to punish you,” the Revinir said. “Teach you a lesson by leaving you here. Have you done anything wrong lately? Anything against his wishes?”
“I—I—you don’t know what you’re talking about!” Thisbe said. “You’re a terrible person to say such things about my brother. He loves me! He’s going to come for me.” As she said the words, she felt doubt creep in. She’d told herself the same thing just the other night. It had been weeks, and no one had come. What did it mean? Why hadn’t they found her yet? Where were they?
“There, there,” said the Revinir. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just thought you’d have figured it out by now. After all, he didn’t take this long to come after me with an entire army the first time we had a falling out. You’d think he’d come even quicker for his sister, but alas, he hasn’t. It seems pretty obvious to me what’s going on here, but if you’re not ready to hear that . . . well, let’s change the subject.” She clicked her fingernails against the arms of her throne. “Are you ready to start working on the first batch of broth?”
Thisbe couldn’t speak. Her face was hot with anger, and she feared she’d start shooting sparks everywhere if she wasn’t careful. She turned away from the woman and stared at the door where the soldiers stood. “Sure,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Let’s get moving, then.” The Revinir stood and clapped her hands. “Come with us, Dev,” she called out, then turned to look behind her throne, where a small table was pushed up against it. Thisbe peered around it and gasped. Dev had been sitting there working quietly the whole time.
“Come out, Dev. Meet Miss Stowe and show her what a great assistant you are. My first glorious test subject.”
Dev stepped slowly into view. He wouldn’t make eye contact. Thisbe watched him, confused by what the Revinir was saying about him being a test subject. She looked harder at him, and then, with horror, she noticed that the skin below his ragged sleeves and pant legs was speckled lightly with dragon scales.
Doubt Creeps In
Thisbe listened numbly as the Revinir showed her where to find everything in the test kitchen. Dev didn’t say a word. He looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor. When the Revinir had explained everything that Thisbe was to do, she turned to face the girl. “Do you have any questions?”
“No,” Thisbe said. Then: “Yes. Why are you doing this here? Why not in the testing room?”
“I wish to keep this product private for now until I know how it works. Once I’ve determined the proper levels to provide the weakest visible effects, we’ll produce a small batch to sell in the marketplace. I don’t want it to be too plentiful—we want dragon-bone broth to become a craze. We want people to be searching for it. We want them to feel they must have it at all costs.”
“But . . . aren’t you afraid of people buying it and becoming magical and able to attack you?”
The Revinir laughed. “They won’t have access to nearly enough magical product to make them anywhere strong enough to attack me. Besides, they can’t get to me down here. And when I’ve gotten as powerful as I can be, and finished all I intend to do around here, we’ll leave this place. I’ll go back home to Warbler Island and take over the other islands like I’d planned all along. Especially Artimé.”
Thisbe stared. “But how will you get across the gorge?”
The woman smiled. “I have my ways of getting back home. And there are the ghost dragons to the south and west of us if I should need to take them captive. But with any luck, I’ll have my own dragon wings by the time I need them.”
Even Dev reacted to that, repulsion evident on his face.
Thisbe could hardly take in what she was hearing. She didn’t ask any more questions. Eventually the Revinir left her and Dev alone in the kitchen to start working on the magical dragon-bone broth. Three soldiers stood guard at the entrance to the Revinir’s quarters, a whole room away from the kitchen. Thisbe and Dev were practically alone.
Thisbe turned to look Dev in the eye. “Hello again, thief,” she said. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. And now you’ve got dragon scales. How fashionable.”
Dev closed his eyes and shook his head. “Shut it.”
“Rude,” muttered Thisbe. She hauled one of the giant pots across the floor to place on the fire, then hoisted one of the dragon bones into it. Then she began dragging buckets of water to pour over the bone. The Revinir had said it would need to simmer for many hours, perhaps overnight, in order for some of the magic to seep out of the bones into the broth.
Dev did the same with another pot and bone. He didn’t talk to Thisbe.
She didn’t talk to him, either—she was still reeling about him having dragon scales. Part of her thought through the idea of getting Dev on her side. He was maybe a little bit powerful now because of drinking the dragon-bone broth, which could be useful, though she had no idea what he could do—perhaps he just had the scales and that was it. The other part of her wanted to punch him in the face for what he’d done to her and Fifer and Seth. She wanted answers. But she knew she needed him on her side. She just wasn’t sure how to get him there. And if she did, how would she even know? He wasn’t trustworthy.
Once they both had their pots filled, all they had to do was sit and watch them, and add more water after a while to cover the portion that boiled off. The two sat awkwardly across the room from each other by their pots and stayed that way, casting veiled glances at each other.
Eventually Dev sighed and got up. He went over to Thisbe and sat down next to her. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
Finding his apology surprising yet totally inadequate, Thisbe ignored him and chose instead to read the labels of the various ingredients on the pantry shelves next to her.
After a few minutes,
Dev began to tremble and shake.
Thisbe didn’t notice what was happening at first. But then Dev made a few weird squeaks. She turned and realized with a start that he was falling apart in sobs. She looked at him in alarm, and then she glanced out the door to make sure the soldiers weren’t watching. After a long moment of uncertainty, she reluctantly reached out to him and gave him an awkward hug.
He held his body stiff, like he didn’t know how to hug, but he stayed there, crying into Thisbe’s dirty shirt like the world had ended for him.
Thisbe wasn’t sure what to do. She stayed still and patted his back every now and then. Once she said, “There. It’s okay.” That made him cry harder. She didn’t know what to make of it, but her sympathy for him grew as the time passed. She thought about what might have caused him to be so overwhelmingly crushed that he would fall apart like this with a practical stranger. Had he lost his precious piece of traitor gold? Or was he actually broken up about leaving the palace? This work in the kitchen seemed so much easier than the work he’d been doing—she’d think he’d be happy about that.
After a while he lifted his head and sniffed loudly. Then he wiped his face with his shirtsleeve. The uneven smattering of dragon scales on his forearm caught the light and shimmered. Maybe that was why he was crying. Thisbe hadn’t fully processed how the Revinir might have administered the test product to him, but if she’d forced him to take it against his will, that seemed a strong enough reason to be upset.
“Are you all right?” Thisbe asked gently.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” said Dev. He pulled away and stared at his cauldron.
Thisbe made a frustrated noise, her sympathy flying out the door. “Are you kidding me? You get snot all over my shirt and you won’t tell me what is so upsetting?” After weeks away from Dev, she was immediately as annoyed by him as she had been the day he’d stolen their food and eaten it in front of them.
