The thief smiled. “Do the Panqui have a song about Raisasel?”
“No flail. Seven sisters river floating.” Lombo’s grin revealed a small morsel of squirming worm. “Not child’s song.”
Erlestoke smiled. “In Oriosa, those are seven merchants and the moon is counted a thief. When it passes through them, it steals their light.”
Crow nodded, then looked to Qwc. “What about the Spritha?”
“Spritha sing not of stars.” He looked around at his companions. “Holes in the sun’s hood, just holes. Why sing, why?”
“Dranae, do dragons sing of the stars?”
The dragon looked back. “People create stories about what they fear as a means to define and control the threat. Raisasel slew no dragons, but elves feel safer to think that one of their number did. Dragons have no fear of the stars because we know what they are.”
Will frowned. “So do the Spritha, but I don’t think they are holes in some hood the sun pulls on.”
“No, Will. What would they be, then?”
He hesitated. “Well, I’ve not thought about it much, but they look like gems just scattered up there. If we could fly high enough, we could get them.”
Dranae laughed and a tiny bit of flame jetted from his nostrils. “The Spritha are closer than you are, Will.”
Crow smiled. “What are the stars then, Dranae, if that information can be shared?”
“Stars are just like the sun, but very far distant from here.”
But that can’t be. They’re so small and the sun is so big. Will looked at Crow and Erlestoke, then the three of them broke out laughing. “No, Dranae, that can’t be. Sparks from the sun maybe, but suns? Not possible.”
Another fiery snort accompanied a smirk. “Doubtless you are right, Will.”
As they flew west and south, the sky began to lighten in the east. The sun stole over the horizon, and long shadows began their retreat from its light. Will crawled back up to his vantage point, rolling onto his back to watch the dawn, then onto his belly to see their destination.
Vael sat in the southern portion of the Crescent Sea, due north of Gyrvirgul and northwest of Vilwan. Thick jungles covered it so well that as night’s veil was lifted, Will could still see very little. Occasionally a brilliantly colored flock of birds would rise, swirl above the leafy canopy, then descend and disappear again.
Several dark grey peaks thrust their way up through the vegetation wreathed by thin white clouds. The tallest sat in the middle of the island, but Dranae did not make for it. Instead, he flew toward the northern end and dipped down into the jungle. They drifted down into a misty valley with steep walls covered in mosses, and overgrown with deep green plants and vibrant blossoms. Water poured down in frothy cataracts. At the far end of it, Dranae lifted his left wing, banked into a turn, then landed effortlessly on a greensward before the opening of a massive cave.
“We have arrived, my friends.” Dranae lay down on his belly and extended his right forepaw to give them an easy way down to the ground. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
Will was ready to agree with that assessment; the valley had been breathtaking. But Dranae was nodding toward the cavern mouth—which seemed only a cavern mouth, devoid of decoration.
“Am I missing something?” he whispered to Crow.
“If so, I am missing it as well, Will.”
Dranae’s eyes half lidded. “I had forgotten that you do not always see as I do.” The dragon extended his neck, opened his jaws, and breathed out softly. His exhalation flowed like fog over the stone. Then color flowed into it, painting the rocks in soft, chalky layers. Blue rivulets flowed down, carving the rock, enlarging the opening. Watching the process was hypnotic. In bits and flashes plants grew up, blossomed and died, animals came and left in an eyeblink. Rocks shifted and melted until the present opening remained and the colors bled away.
Will blinked. “Wow. What was that?”
“A little dracomagick.” Dranae canted his head slightly to the right. “Every event in the world produces echoes—not of sound, but resonations that travel in time. Dragons can see those vibrations and make sense of them. With some magick, we can provide them substance so that others can see. To me, when I land here, I see what you just saw, but on a larger scale. To me the cavern opens as if the rock were a curtain. It welcomes me home.“
Crow nodded. “I can imagine that is indeed beautiful. I have a question, though. If what you say about actions creating resonances is true, then dragons have access to everything that is happening.”
“Or ever has happened, since those resonances still flow through the world.” Dranae nodded. “Your question is preface to wondering why, with such knowledge, we have not intervened before on behalf of Chytrine’s enemies—even if just to inform them of what is happening elsewhere.”
“You anticipate me well.”
“Your question contains pieces of things that have long been debated. First, however, it is possible to use magick to kill resonances before they are born, or to alter others, so the information is not always reliable. Second, imagine hearing a hundred birds singing. How do you pick out the notes of one specific bird? And then expand that to all the notes ever sung by every bird that ever lived? How do you know which to listen to? Dragons may pick out a line or two to follow, but it is for their own purposes and amusements. As spying goes, we are hardly efficient.”
Erlestoke smiled. “And Chytrine has her resonances damped?”
“So I have been told, yes” Dranae stretched and adjusted his wings, then lifted his right forepaw and gestured toward the mouth of the cave. “Welcome to my true home. As you welcomed me into your world, so I welcome you into mine.”
Will led the way into the dim cave. Luminous lichen did provide some soft green light, reminding Will of Oracle’s cave near Gyrvirgul. He wished Dranae would use more magick to reveal things, but even without it, the place was stunning. The pillars of stone had all shades of color streaming through them, and small creatures moved through the stalactites and stalagmites both. Will wished he could be looking everywhere all at once.
Crow grabbed the back of his jacket and yanked him back right before Will stepped off into an abyss. A wall of heat rose from the depths. Down there, moving slowly, molten lava with dark islands floating on it flowed toward the north. The islands broke apart and sank, with flames flaring here and there. Watching it was almost like watching the dracomagick at the entrance, and for the barest of moments Will just imagined what it would be like to see that river with the mystical layering.
“Watch where you’re going, Will.”
Dranae came up and lifted each one of them across. “Forgive me. I lose perspective of size sometimes.”
They continued on, but Will lagged back to remain near Dranae. “That thing you did with the entrance. Does it work for other things?”
“An example, Will.”
“Well…” The thief shifted his shoulders uneasily. “People?”
The dragon nodded sagely. “Living things, yes. Creatures are studied to determine things about them—feeding patterns, migrations, breeding habits…”
“Breeding habits?” Will blushed heavily. “Even people?”
“Yes, Will, though we find that about as interesting as you might find watching dogs mate.”
“Oh, so you haven’t…”
“No, Will.” Dranae eyed him carefully as they moved into a tunnel that sloped downward and moved to the left. “You specifically were interested in seeing resonances of someone?”
The thief nodded. “I was wondering if, maybe, you could let me see my father from, you know, before he became one of them?
“Why?”
“Well, because, okay…Back in the mountains I saw Crow with his brother, and despite all that’s been done to Sallitt, they looked a bit alike. And Erlestoke and his brother, I could see the family ties there, too. And I guess I know my father used to make rhymes, the way I do sometimes. I know he’s my father and all, but I can’t see it.”