As She Ascends

by Jodi Meadows

  My heart skipped, and next to me, a small whimper escaped Ilina.

  “You will not take her,” I said. “You will not take any of these dragons.”

  “Oh?” Director Bosh looked from me to Ilina to Hristo. “How will you stop me? How will you even awaken these dragons?”

  I wished I had a thousand noorestones. Then he’d learn how I would stop him.

  But here, all I had was my voice. “The people of Bopha named me Dragonhearted. Do you want to find out why, or will you listen to me when I say that what you’re doing is treason?”

  “These dragons are ill,” he said. “I know you believe something horrible is going to happen to them, but I promise I’m taking them where they can get help.”

  I shook my head. “No, you’re wrong. Fourteen large dragons disappeared from the Crescent Prominence sanctuary, and all the dragons from the Heart of the Great Warrior—”

  “The Mira Treaty forbids them from having dragons, anyway. You of all people should know that.” Director Bosh jerked his head from the other keepers to the carts. “Close those.”

  “No!”

  At my cry, LaLa shrieked and Crystal whined, but even more alarming was the jet of smoke that blasted from the nearest dragon—an auburn-scaled Drakontos rex. Frightened dragons sometimes awakened with fire, and I had moved directly between the dragon and the director.

  “They’re being sent to the Algotti Empire. To our enemies.” I dared a step forward. Rain drummed harder on the carts, on the ground, and on us. “You know who I am, right?”

  The director scoffed. “Of course I know who you are.”

  “Then you should know that I was sent to the Pit in order to keep this secret. I discovered that dragons had been taken from the sanctuary at Crescent Prominence, and when I told the Luminary Council, they reacted by imprisoning me.” My voice shook with cold and anger, and I dragged my finger down the scar. “They did this to me. The Luminary Council. Because of the dragons. Because I wouldn’t support the deportation decree. Because I decided not to be their puppet anymore.”

  Keeper Azure stared hard at the scar, and for a heartbeat I thought he might side with me. But then he looked away.

  It didn’t matter. I wasn’t finished. “This goes above you, Director. If you’ve been told the dragons will be cared for, or treated for some illness, then you’ve been lied to.”

  Another puff of smoke came from the auburn dragon, but I didn’t move as the acrid tendrils coiled around me.

  One of the keepers started toward the cart. “Director—”

  “Yes, give her another shot.” But as the keeper pulled out the syringe, Director Bosh stepped forward. “Wait.” He held Crystal toward the keeper.

  Ilina let out a strangled scream.

  “Sir?” In the driving rain, the keeper stood perfectly still.

  All around me, wooden carts groaned and creaked under the weight of shifting dragons. Long huffs sounded as dragons yawned and began to wake. I didn’t see them, but I felt yellow-green eyes behind me open and blink, struggling to focus through the sedatives already in the dragon’s system.

  The sedative Director Bosh wanted to put into Crystal.

  “You can’t,” I breathed. “You can’t give that to her.”

  Director Bosh closed the distance between him and the keeper, heedless of the newly awakened Drakontos rex at my back. “I don’t know where you heard that our dragons are going to the Algotti Empire, but that’s a lie. No one in the Fallen Isles would ever let it happen, hear me?”

  I clenched my jaw tight.

  “I, personally, will be traveling with these dragons to make sure they get the very best care, and I don’t like the insinuation that I would let them be harmed.”

  “You are willing to give a raptus a sedative meant for a rex.” The words shook out of me, too full of fury. Blood pounded through my head, muddying my thoughts, obscuring everything but the needle poised just above a trembling Crystal. “That could kill her.” On my shoulder, LaLa gave a low growl and flapped her good wing.

  The director leveled his gaze on me. “Mira. Child. My duty is to these dragons, and to this sanctuary.” Around us, dragons in the carts grew quiet again, sedated once more. Doors squealed closed as the other keepers finished their work. “If I don’t obey the order to take these dragons away, then the First Harta Dragon Sanctuary will be shut down, and every other dragon here will be sent away or abandoned to the wilds. I know Azure has told you as much.”

  He was putting the needs of the sanctuary above these ten dragons.

  Sacrificing these for the sake of the others.

  I closed my eyes and exhaled, long and slow. The anger didn’t fall out, but I could rein it in now. “Give Crystal back to Ilina.”

  “Will you leave the sanctuary?” Bosh asked.

  I glanced at Ilina, who hadn’t looked away from Crystal, and then Hristo. He offered a minute nod.

  “Fine,” I said. “Give Crystal back.”

  The keeper with the syringe backed off, his eyes flickering toward the rex in the cart behind me. But that dragon was on her way back to sleep, no need for another dose.

  Then Director Bosh opened his hands, and Crystal exploded outward in a flurry of squeaks and wingbeats and spraying water. She flew straight for Ilina and buried herself in her person’s embrace. And Ilina, for her part, was bent over and shivering, whispering love to her dragon.

  I lifted my hand toward LaLa, letting her bump and nuzzle my fingers. “Do you believe in the Great Abandonment, Director? Keepers?” I looked at Azure and the others as they stood together again.

  None of them answered.

  “I want you to remember this moment,” I said. “When you had a choice to do what was right. To see beyond selling ten dragons or giving up the sanctuary. To see a third option.”

  “There is no third option, Mira. Not this time.” Azure looked at me with sad eyes. “Sometimes there are only two bad options, and we have to make the best choice we are able, but I suppose the very young can’t always understand that.”

  I sucked in a heavy breath and pressed my fingertips against the cool scales of the Drakontos rex. She was asleep again, captive to the sedatives her keepers had given her. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, because I had made my choice, too, and I wasn’t proud of it.

  AARU

  Seven Years Ago

  I ALMOST DIED ON MY FIRST DAY OF WORK.

  My father repaired important buildings in Grace Community, such as the High House, where the community leader lived. It was the best house in the whole town, with three floors, brick siding, and a wide balcony that overlooked the town square. Father said it walked the line between opulent and acceptable. He’d been all through it to make repairs, of course, and he said it had five bedrooms. Kader—the head of Grace Community—and his wife had three children, so no one shared. It was wildly extravagant.

  And enviable, but I pushed that feeling aside like a good Idrisi boy. I shouldn’t want more than I had.

  ::Today,:: Father tapped as we made our way through the quiet town square, ::we need to repair a broken tile on the balcony.::

  People looked at us as we climbed the steps to the High House, patting out their own conversations, most too fast or too hidden for me to see. But I always felt like they were discussing Safa and how my family had too many girls already. My parents finally had a second boy—Danyal—but he was two, and followed shortly by Essa. Another girl. I was old enough now to realize my parents would have to make marriage arrangements for all of them eventually, and we didn’t have anything to offer in the way of dowry. Keeping Safa with us half the time only made us responsible for her, too.

  Still, we weren’t the worst off in Grace Community. A family down the road had ten children—all girls—who’d never be able to work.

  Father took me through a back door into the High House, truly the grandest place I’d ever stepped foot, and showed me all the tools. “This is important,” he said. “Our family needs you
r income.”

  I knew that.

  “You’re ten years old. It’s time for you to do your part.”

  Together, we lifted the pieces of broken tile and scraped away the old mud. A sense of pride filled me as we worked; I was needed here.

  “Watch while I put in the new tile.” He didn’t say it out loud, or even tap it, but I heard the words underneath: It’s too important to risk you making a mistake.

  So I observed, standing quietly over him, ugly shame driving its tendrils through the pride from earlier. I wanted to be good. Respected.

  When he was finished, I took the initiative to clean up. But then—

  I slipped.

  A piece of the broken tile slid under my foot and threw me toward the balcony edge. I flailed, teeth clamped on my lips to keep a shout inside, and suddenly—

  I was falling.

  I DIDN’T REMEMBER hitting the ground. Only waking up in my sisters’ room.

  “You’ll live.” Mother crossed her arms.

  ::Can I keep working?:: I tapped.

  “Not with your father. Kader won’t have you at the High House again. They cannot risk another delay because of your clumsiness.”

  Shame burst through me, but there was no indulging it. I’d have to find another job, or my family would starve.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  ANGER PROPELLED ME TO THE HORSECARRE, WHERE the driver still waited, displeasure written plain across his rain-streaked face; though the retractable roof had been pulled out, there were no walls to shield him from the weather, and his canvas raincoat would only protect him so much.

  I was too mad to care. Once the three of us were in the back of the horsecarre, I slammed the door and hunched away from the rain leaking through the front window.

  Ilina bent over the dragons’ basket and fished out a blanket. Quickly, she wiped off her face and arms, helped Hristo where his hand limited him, and when they were finished, he offered the blanket to me. “Your hair is frizzing.”

  “I don’t care about my hair.” But I snatched the blanket from him anyway and dried off. The damp linen smelled like smoke and lightning, like our little dragons who’d almost been torn apart forever.

  Director Bosh had threatened to kill Crystal. He’d have done the same to LaLa, too, if he’d been able to take her.

  “We’re all angry, Mira.” Ilina bent over the basket, one hand inside to pet the dragons. “Now we have to decide what to do next.”

  I didn’t want to talk about our next move. I wanted to go straight back to the sanctuary with handfuls of noorestones, and demand they release the dragons.

  Keeper Azure might have believed the story about dragons being removed for medical reasons. Perhaps the dragons were behaving strangely. But the dragons could be treated here, in their home, not in some unknown location. And certainly not everyone at the First Harta Dragon Sanctuary believed the excuse Bosh was giving.

  He’d been so insistent on taking the dragons himself. He’d ignored everything we said.

  He was as guilty as Ilina’s parents.

  A deep, dark part of me raged. I wanted to set him on fire.

  “You know what this means, right?” I met Ilina’s eyes. “If Crescent Prominence, the Heart, and First Harta were all affected—that’s a pattern.”

  She let out a long breath. “It’s bigger than we thought.”

  Every sanctuary in the Fallen Isles was at risk: Summerill Sky Sanctuary on Idris, and the Stardowns on Bopha, and the Eternal Fire Sanctuary on Anahera. And those were just the big sanctuaries. There were dozens of smaller ones scattered across all seven islands.

  “We have to warn them.” Even as the words came out, I knew it was pointless. We couldn’t go to any of the other sanctuaries without losing time at sea; we’d almost been too late for First Harta, and they hadn’t even believed us. And we couldn’t trust letters to anyone; if they were intercepted . . .

  Rain drummed on the horsecarre, cluttering my thoughts with irrelevant numbers.

  “How do you propose to do that?” Hristo asked, keeping his voice low so that the driver wouldn’t hear.

  “I don’t know.” I dragged my hands down my face, thinking. “Nowhere is safe. None of the sanctuaries.”

  Which meant that even if we were able to rescue dragons from ships or stops along the way to the empire—and I’d just seen how good I was at rescuing dragons that hadn’t even been moved yet—there was nowhere to take them after.

  Every dragon in the Fallen Isles would be plundered for the empire’s gain.

  Unless.

  Unless someone with power put a stop to it.

  Two decans ago, the people of the Shadowed City named me Dragonhearted, because they thought I’d calmed a dragon to give police time to take control of her. While that hadn’t been my intention—I’d wanted her to fly away—the title was still mine.

  Dragonhearted.

  Mira the Dragonhearted.

  “It has to be me,” I whispered.

  “What?” Ilina cocked her head.

  I looked up and made my voice a little stronger. “Chenda was right. I thought if I could only rescue a few dragons, that would be enough. But the problem isn’t just that dragons are being taken. It’s that Altan may have been right about the treaty and I refused to look into it because I was afraid of going home. But if everyone who signed the Mira Treaty has betrayed us, I need to do something.”

  Hristo rested his hand on my knee. “Sharing a name with a thing doesn’t make you responsible for it.”

  “Doesn’t it?” I’d spent my life defending the treaty; I should be the one to fight it, if it proved false. “Chenda was right,” I said again. “We have to go home. I’ll ask my parents what they know. I’ll ask”—the words choked me—“if they are in fact traitors to the Fallen Isles.”

  Ilina glanced toward the driver, but if he heard us over the rain and clap of hooves on wet ground, he showed no signs.

  I leaned toward Ilina and Hristo and lowered my voice. “Father wrote the treaty. Surely he knows what it did. If he sold the islands to the empire—if he traded our dragons for an illusion of peace—”

  Hristo squeezed my arm. “If that’s where you think we should go next, I will follow you there.”

  Unease squirmed within me. I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to see my parents or the Luminary Council.

  “I won’t let fear stop me,” I said. “Not anymore.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted in a faint smile.

  “When we know the truth about the treaty, we’ll be able to use that to help the dragons. I’ll be the Hopebearer. I’ll be the Dragonhearted. I’ll be whatever I need to be in order to stop this travesty.” Chenda, at least, would be pleased.

  Finally, we rolled back into the city. The rain had chased off most pedestrians, and horsecarres dominated the streets, all driven by miserable-looking men and women in waterproofed jackets.

  “Busy evening here.” Our driver glanced over his shoulder, just loud enough to be heard over the pounding rain. “Are you going to see her?” He straightened and directed the horses around a corner. “She’s at the Lexara Theater, so there’s probably room if you don’t mind standing, but I’d get in line now if you want space to breathe. It’s going to be packed, I hear. She hasn’t visited in over two years.”

  Ilina frowned. “Who’s here?”

  He looked at Ilina as though she were out of her mind. “Mira Minkoba, of course. The Hopebearer.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  I DIDN’T THINK. I JUST REACTED.

  As soon as the driver finished saying that I was speaking at the Lexara Theater, I pushed open the door and dropped from the horsecarre and into the rain.

  “Wait!” Ilina’s hands grasped at my shirt, but it was too late; I was already out. “Sorry, so sorry—” She was speaking to the driver now, though I didn’t hear the rest.

  Instantly drenched but hot with fury, I tore across the street and toward the theater.

&
nbsp; Someone was pretending to be me.

  Tirta was pretending to be me.

  Everywhere, people ducked their heads and hurried to get out of the storm. Street vendors had long since shut up their stalls, and the sheets of rain made strange ghosts of the empty windows and abandoned carts. The clatter of water on wood and stone and steel built a cacophony in my head, but I surged on.

  She was pretending to be me.

  I’d known it was coming, hadn’t I? Tirta had told me the Luminary Council planted her in the Pit to learn how to become me.

  And now she had.

  My shredded slippers were soaked before I even turned the first corner, but I didn’t stop—not until I saw it.

  The Lexara Theater rose ahead, an immense stone building that dominated the city center. I knew it from a play my parents had taken me to when we last visited Harta, and its numbers were etched into my mind: seventy-seven stained-glass windows, seven turrets, and seven columns. Inside: three lobbies (one was private), one auditorium with seven thousand seats and seven hundred noorestones, and four private boxes set off from the rest of the seating. And now, seven banners hung down the front face: one for each of the islands.

  A line began at the doors, went down the steps, and twisted back and forth across the lawn. Hundreds of people hunched against the storm, many in waterproofed coats, but there were some brave souls who decided to dance between raindrops, while others sang and clapped. Growling thunder provided inconsistent bass.

  Someone caught my arm, making me jump and spin, but it was just Hristo. Water dripped down his face, soaking his shirt and sling.

  “Mira.” He kept his voice low, like someone might overhear such a common name being uttered. Like anyone thought Mira Minkoba might be standing out here in the rain, too. “What are you doing?”

  My thoughts floated. I could hardly recall running here. I hated running, but fury had fast wings. “Tirta is here. She’s pretending to be me.”