Her cross-body sack, filled with riding-suit scales, slapped against her belly, stuffed full after an evening meal with Brajon’s family.
She snuck down the stairs and roads. Pebbles pushed into her soft boots as she darted to Nebekker’s house at mid-cliff level. The windows were dark. She raised her hand and knocked quietly.
No answer. The wind shifted, brushing Silver’s scarf from her face. She knocked again, shuffling her boots on the dusty stoop. Where was the old woman? Silver looked up and down the road, but all activity was near the workshops and the yarnsladies’ tents.
Maybe Nebekker had gone to help the yarnsladies. Maybe she was sleeping. But Silver needed to finish her suit. So where was she?
Silver tapped on the door a little louder and then, finally, banged with the side of her fist.
“Where are you?” Silver whispered. She reached for the door handle, looking over her shoulder and gnawing her bottom lip. One did not enter a home without permission.
She swallowed and turned. The door opened.
Silver slipped in and shut the door behind her. Nebekker’s house was still. No sound and no light.
“Nebekker?”
No answer. It felt wrong to snoop. But what if Nebekker was injured—or worse? It wasn’t even just about the scales. Silver’s heart hurt to think something could be wrong with the old woman … with her friend. She tiptoed around, peering into every dark corner, hoping to find Nebekker peacefully snoring away. But the house was empty.
Silver wiped her sweaty hands on her trousers and returned to the main room. She went to the shelf where her racing-suit plans were tucked into a pot, and she stuffed them in her bag. Silver looked around the room one last time, as though she could have missed Nebekker in a tiny crack in the wall. She stepped into the road and closed the door behind her.
If she had any hope of finishing her suit by tomorrow morning, she would have to hole up in her bedroom and work nonstop. She’d just have to figure out her own way to attach the scale pieces together.
SILVER RUBBED HER eyes for the hundredth time and looked out the window. It was still deep-mine black outside, but daybreak would come all too soon. Hours of weaving and hooking and knotting, and the scales were still scattered around her floor. Some had partially unraveled after her joining experiments had left them looking tired and limp. Others were still connected but with haphazard knots.
“Flying desert dust, Nebekker! Where are you when I need you?”
She considered going to Nebekker’s house again, to see if the old woman had returned in the night, but she couldn’t force her legs to move. She was too tired. Her eyes betrayed her. Images of wool were mixing in a fog with huge shadowy blobs that looked like water dragons.
When her curtains shushed open, she didn’t even have the energy to hide the scales. Let her father find out. At least then she would be free from this torturous work.
But it was her cousin. Brajon clomped into the room and closed the curtains behind him.
“I was getting a snack and looked up to see lantern light in your window. What are you doing?” He squinted at Silver’s mess of yarn.
Silver couldn’t hold the emotions back any longer. A hot tear rolled down her cheek. “Look at this! Nebekker was supposed to show me how to join the scales together, but she’s missing.”
“Then figure it out.”
“I’m trying! Do you think I’ve just been sitting here all night wasting this lantern oil?” Silver glared at her cousin. He watched her carefully for a moment, then went to the window and stared at the night.
“Look at this,” he said.
Silver heaved her heavy limbs up and joined him, and Brajon bumped her shoulder gently.
“How many times have we watched our deep-desert sky together?” he said. “As dark as ink. Except over there, where it’s purple, like deep amethyst. Soon, that’ll turn blue, then orange. Then we’ll have brilliant light. Do you think they have the same skies in Calidia?”
Silver gazed up at her cousin. Even if the skies were exactly the same, the company would be different, and that made her ache inside.
“Do you never want to go somewhere?” she asked. “Never want to have adventure? Those colors on the horizon—don’t you want to be able to touch them?” She sighed and gingerly felt the wound on her wrist. “There’s so much more out there than I can find here.”
Brajon shrugged. “Jaspaton’s my home.”
Silver made a low sound in her throat and shoved her wrist under Brajon’s nose. “Look at this.”
“That looks painful.”
“That’s not the point. The shape proves I’m meant for water dragons!”
“I know,” Brajon said softly. “I don’t need a burn to tell me that.”
A silence fell over the cousins. It was comfortable, as all their moments together were, but there was something new around the edges. Something that hinted at a change to come. Silver both thirsted for it and mourned it at the same time.
“Look.” She pointed to a spot in the sky that was starless.
“Must be a sandstorm out there,” Brajon said.
“Maybe.” But sandstorms usually blacked out the whole night. This was more like just a strip of stars was missing. Except that the strip was moving, winking out stars across the sky. Silver shivered. “Strange.”
“Our desert sky is full of mysteries. How could you want to leave it for the royal city?” Brajon said.
Silver knew he was asking How could you want to leave me?—but when she didn’t answer, his shoulders slumped.
“Cousin,” he said, “I don’t know anything about wool working, but I can do lots of different kinds of knots. You could just…” He grabbed two scales, lined up the flat sides, and knotted a length of yarn between them. He held up the finished product. “Okay, so it’s not perfect. But at least they’re holding together without a gap. And you can hardly see the knots.”
“Hardly? The only thing bulkier than your knots is your head.” Silver laughed and took the knotted scales to examine them. “But they’ll have to do. Sagittaria will understand that this is just a prototype.”
“I’ll help with the rest. Even though you’re as ungrateful as that desert fox you saved.” Brajon grinned as Silver stuck her tongue out at him. “We have to hurry if you want this done before sunrise,” he said.
Silver tugged the suit-design sketch from under her leg and set it in between herself and her cousin. They both got to work. Silver’s energy returned. Her fingers flew.
“Thank you for helping me,” she said. Her smile couldn’t be contained.
“I’ll do anything if it means I get rid of you for good,” Brajon said. But just as quickly as his smile had appeared, it fled.
“You’ll always be my number one reason for coming back to visit,” Silver said, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze.
It was dawn when they finally finished connecting the scales. Silver watched her cousin sweep past the curtain to the hallway, then she began packing her suit into her bag with a heavy heart.
EIGHT
Silver woke with a snort. She wiped a trail of slobber off her chin and sat up. The sun streamed through her window. There was so much noise it sounded like a parade was marching by outside. Running. Shouting. Traditional festival drums pounding.
“Silver!” Brajon barreled in, leaping over her to look out the window. “The Calidia group has been spotted. Sagittaria Wonder will be here any minute.”
Sagittaria Wonder! Gifting boring old Jaspaton with her glorious presence. The day had finally arrived, and Silver had almost slept through it.