by Liz Flanagan
“Right,” Tarya said. “That’s our grandparents, and dad was born here, just after.”
Heral kept his eyes on her, alert and ready to fly to Tarya if she gave the word.
Milla added four more cookies onto the same half of the plate. “Oh, yes, the Norlanders bred and settled here.”
“And here come the Sartolans.” Milla added the rest of the cookies, slowly, one by one, onto the other half of the plate. “Over time, they settle here, too, coming just over the Sartolan Straits, to their nearest neighbor, because Sartola is still recovering from the war, and there’s work here on Arcosi.” She added a cookie. “There’s space in the harbor for another boat.” She added another. “There’s room in the marketplace for Rosa’s family’s stall. Opportunities, if you work hard. Right?”
“Right.”
“Half and half, more or less. Norlanders. Sartolans. Side by side. There should be enough room for everyone. But watch.”
They watched as she spread the Norlander cookies all over the plate, pushing the Sartolan ones into a corner.
“Only who has the best houses?” She moved another Norlander cookie over so it occupied the Sartolan side. “The best jobs?” And another. “Best stalls?” And another. “Lowest fees, for everything? And the duke likes it that way because it favors his people, and he promised his dead father he would protect them at any price.”
Isak scowled and looked ready to interrupt.
“Oh, and the people of Sartolan descent?” Milla went on, before Isak could speak. “You can fight it out over here, for the scraps …” She took the Sartolan cookies, all squashed into a quarter of the plate now, and jostled them up against each other.
“I’m not sure that’s true, Milla,” Tarya said, looking hurt.
“Oh, I haven’t finished,” Milla said. “What happens if a person of Sartolan descent dares to speak up in protest?”
The others were silent.
“Well, the duke’s got rules about that … Don’t start having ideas above your station! Here come the soldiers—they’ll take you away to prison.” She lifted up one of the Sartolan cookies. “And Duke Olvar sets the release fee so high because he clearly isn’t rich enough. And if you don’t have enough money to pay it? Bye-bye!” She shoved the cookie in her mouth and crunched it up, scattering crumbs down her blue tunic.
Tarya’s cheeks were flushed. “So, what are you saying? That it’s acceptable for people to go around blowing things up?”
Iggie barked, Mraa!
“That it’s all right to do this?” Tarya struck the plate from below. It flew from Milla’s hands, sending cookies and crumbs everywhere, and shattered into pieces.
They glared at each other across the mess.
Iggie and Belara jumped back, thrashing their tails, confused and upset by this new behavior.
“I think we all need to calm down,” Vigo said. He’d been stroking Petra the whole time, soothing her. “It’s a bit more complicated than cookies.”
Milla ignored him. “I’m not saying it’s right to go out rioting! I’m saying it’s understandable. I’m saying things have got to change. If you’d spent your whole life fighting twice as hard for half the gain, wouldn’t you be angry?”
“You do seem very angry, Milla,” Isak said, ignoring Belara’s attempts to climb onto his knee, even though she was far too big for that these days. “Who knew? When a Norlander family took you in and gave you work?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, did I forget to be grateful for my crumbs?” she yelled at him. “Anyway, it’s not about me. You know what it’s really about?”
“I think you’re going to tell us,” Isak said.
“It’s about whether Norlanders and Sartolans, or anyone else, deserve to be treated the same.” Images flashed through her mind’s eye: all the times she’d watched Norlanders cutting lines, breezing through checkpoints, taking the best moorings in the harbor, the best stalls in the marketplace. And all without realizing. “What do you think, Isak? Are you better simply because your ancestors are Norlanders?”
He didn’t answer.
“And if you think you are”—she struggled a little here, aware that tears were rising behind her anger—“at least have the courage to say so. Don’t pretend it’s the same for everyone else. And don’t pretend to be surprised when people get around to showing their anger.”
Iggie stretched his large blue head down over her shoulder. She patted his long nose and rested her cheek against his, trying to calm her breathing.
“Of course we’re not better because we’re Norlander,” Tarya intervened. “I’ve never said that, or treated anyone differently because of their family. Right, Isak?” She nudged her brother hard.
“What would you have done, then?” Isak said, more quietly. “Remembering none of us chose the family we were born into?”
“What do you mean?” Milla tried to hear him out.
“Say you’re a Norlander, like the duke. Like our father. You find refuge on an empty island, you make it yours. You build a home. You protect your own. Just like anyone would do in their own home. Would you let a random stranger who’d just walked in start telling you what to do?”
“Oh, so it’s about who was there first?” Milla said. “I’m just making sure I understand.” She matched his tone now, making hers soft and quiet, too. Iggie sensed the tension and raised his head. She could sense him glaring at Isak for upsetting his person. At least someone was on her side.
“Why not?” Isak said.
“That’s a very dangerous game for a Norlander to play.” Milla had lost control, but she was too angry to care. The words kept tumbling from her lips. “This island isn’t yours by right. Fifty years isn’t that long. What if someone comes to Arcosi and says they were born right here; are you going to get up and walk out, and give it all back to them?”
“Oh, is this your mysterious Kara who knows everything? Born here, was she? Of course she was!” Isak laughed. “Why didn’t I think of that one? You’re so gullible.”
“I knew it! Your argument doesn’t work, even for you!” Milla cried at Isak. “You’ll never give up your privilege. You’ve got too used to hanging out with the duke!”
“And you’ve got too used to hanging out at the docks.” He leaned in close, with a sneer. “Maybe that’s where you belong!”
Milla pushed Isak away, hard. She heard the light crunch as his eyeglasses broke.
“I’m sorry! Isak, I didn’t mean to.” She was filled with instant remorse.
“Yes, you did,” Isak said. “You’ve made it very clear where your loyalties lie, Milla.” His face was flushed bright red, and he looked vulnerable and younger without his glasses on. “And your blind spots.” And he stood up carefully, collecting the fragments of glass from his shirt, and left the dragonhall. Belara followed him miserably, with her tail between her hind legs.
Milla looked at Tarya and Vigo and burst into tears.
“Oh, Milla.” Tarya rushed to her and put her arms around her tightly.
Milla could feel Tarya’s tears trickling down the back of her neck; Vigo’s hand on her shoulder. For a long time, they didn’t speak. Words were messy, hurtful things, and Milla didn’t trust herself to find the right ones anymore.
Eventually, they sat down, each resting against their dragon. Touching their dragons calmed them all down.
“Why didn’t you tell me how bad it was?” Tarya said eventually.
Milla sniffed. “Not that easy. As you see. People get defensive.”
She saw Tarya reach for Vigo’s hand.
Vigo cleared his throat. “I had this tutor once. A Silk Islander. He was the best, till Dad made him leave. Anyway, he used to say we aren’t born knowing things: that’s what life’s for.”
“And?” Milla wiped her face, grateful for Iggie’s presence, for his long blue back that curled around her, making her feel safe.
“If Tarya didn’t know how it was for you, maybe it’s not her fault—”
&nbs
p; “It’s not my fault either!”
“No, it’s not.” Vigo was very calm and serious, and Tarya was gripping his hand tightly. “So that’s why you have to tell each other how it is for you.”
Milla hesitated, still smarting from Isak’s tone.
“Listen to me,” Vigo went on. “If we are going to change things on this island, we have to be honest. We have to listen. And not take offense. Starting with us, right here, right now.”
“Will you, Milla?” Tarya burst out. “Be honest with me! But don’t be angry with me, please?” Her chin wobbled as she said this. “I can’t stand it.”
Milla looked at her friend. She could see how hurt she was, and how sincere. She realized she’d never spoken to her in anger before.
“All right.” She gave Tarya a small, shaky smile. “I’m sorry for being horrible. I didn’t mean it. I know you didn’t invent the rules.”
They hugged each other, then, all three of them. The dragons growled approvingly, sending little curls of smoke into the air.
“If we want the island to be peaceful, maybe we start with us,” Tarya said. “If I’m Norlander; Vigo, you’re half-Norlander, half-Sartolan …”
“But I don’t know what I am!” Milla wailed.
“We’re all Arcosi,” Vigo said. “That’s the point. We live on this island. We love this island. And it belongs to all of us. Right?”
“Right!” Tarya said.
“Of course,” Milla said, stroking Iggie’s blue scales lightly. But she would bet her dragon’s life that the duke would see it differently.
Isak didn’t return to the dragonhall that night. Milla spent the hours of darkness sleeplessly repeating their argument in her mind.
Iggie didn’t sleep either. Finally, he came and nosed at Milla in her bunk, whiffling and tugging at her sleeve, till she got up, grabbed her jacket, and followed him.
Fresh air would help.
She pushed the dragonhall doors open and said a friendly, “Morning! Is it morning yet?” to the startled sentry.
It was cold outside. Milla found her hat in her jacket pocket and tugged it low over her curls. They wandered slowly through the deserted palace gardens, Iggie flying low and then circling back to check Milla was still following.
“Where are we going, Ig?” she asked, curious to see what he had in mind.
Behind the palace, there was a stand of wind-bent trees and a little rocky hill that sheltered the palace from the north wind. The hill fell away into sheer cliffs below, where no one but seabirds ever went. Iggie made his way there, and Milla climbed after him, breathlessly.
Finally, they stood on the highest point of the island, just as the long night started fading. Milla looked southward over the whole island, the little dots of light from night fires and lanterns down in the city. This high up, they would be invisible, hidden in the shadows and the mist.
Milla turned to her dragon. “What is it, Iggie? What are we doing here?”
Iggie flapped his wings once. Then he fixed Milla with his intense emerald stare, came two steps closer and knelt on his front legs. Craaak? That was a new sound, like he was asking her something. He folded his wings flat and looked up, to see if she understood.
“What?” She puzzled over his actions.
He gestured over his shoulders.
“You want me to get on?” she asked.
Iggie aarked, blinking in delight.
“You don’t … ?” she asked incredulously. “You do? You want us to fly!”
A wild reckless impulse possessed Milla.
“We can’t,” she said. “Can we?”
Iggie just stared at her steadily.
“Oh, Iggie. I know you want to cheer me up after last night, but it’s not allowed. I think Duke Olvar might actually explode with rage if he found out.”
Iggie harrumphed disdainfully, making Milla laugh out loud and clap a hand over her mouth.
She knew it was forbidden, but this was Iggie’s idea. He wanted to fly. With her.
If this worked, Milla would be a dragonrider of Arcosi. Like the murals in the dragonhall. Like Karys Stormrider.
“Really? You sure, love? What if you’re not strong enough? What if I’m too heavy?” She might hurt him. What if they both tumbled into the sea, or worse, over the cliffs? They’d be smashed to pieces.
Iggie snorted so violently she got a face full of smoke.
“All right, all right,” she coughed. “I’m coming!” Excitement and fear made her clumsy and awkward. She fumbled around, trying to climb on his back without bashing his wings. In the end, she seated herself sideways, then leaned back and hoisted one leg over his ears. She’d rested against him. She’d even sat on him. This felt different. This was about total trust.
Milla looked down. Her fingers touched his iridescent blue scales lightly, tracing their ridged edges. He was as blue as a dragonfly, blue as a peacock, bluer than the sky on a perfect summer’s day. Iggie’s strong back held her easily, and she knew she was light. She gripped a little harder with her thighs, feeling his ribs and the muscled strength of his sides.
“Where do I hold on?” she asked. “Sorry, Ig, but I don’t have wings of my own.”
He lifted his long neck and turned back toward her. He lowered his ears and purred at her, reassuringly.
“I know, you won’t let me fall! But can I hold your neck while you fly? Can you still breathe?”
He nodded and turned back. Milla leaned forward, trying to balance between his shoulders so she didn’t interfere with his wings. She bent low against him and passed her arms around his strong scaly neck, clasping forearm to forearm and shifting her weight forward.
“I’m ready, if you are?” she whispered, seeing Iggie’s ears twitch at the sound. She could feel his heartbeat speeding up, and it made hers do the same.
Iggie stepped forward to the very edge of the boulder they stood on, then crouched low. Below them, the gardens were shrouded with pearly mist in the gray dawn light. It was damp and cold and very quiet.
Milla felt the taut clench of his muscles, bunched and gathered, waiting. Behind her back, Iggie unfurled his massive wings.
I trust you, she thought, shivering in the cool air. And if they died, at least they’d die together.
Then Iggie sprang. He strained. She felt the pull and lift of it. She gasped. Eyes screwed shut. Hands clinging, clammily.
They didn’t fall. They weren’t falling. They were flying!
Milla looked. The bare treetops, rocks, and grass receded below them as they rose. “There’s the dragonhall!” She stared through the mist, everything unfamiliar from this bird’s-eye view. “Oh, Iggie, we did it!”
She held tight, feeling each beat of his wings begin in his strong chest muscles under her hands.
They flew over the palace, its four towers as spindly and small as a child’s toy beneath them. Then they passed over the palace walls and …
“Oh!” Milla’s insides cartwheeled inside her. And then louder: “Ohhh!” she cried.
The rooftops of Arcosi stretched out below them, disappearing into the mist in a jumble of red tiles and flat roofs, chimneys, bell towers, washing lines, and spires. There were the wharves and the warehouses and the marketplace—ridiculously small, little toytown squares, still deserted.
“Look—the harbor!” Through the fine cloud she saw boats moored, no bigger than the pond skaters in Nestan’s favorite fountain. A few were headed out to sea—fingernail ships crossing smooth pale water. Was that Thom’s ship? If he looked up now, what would he think?
The wind rushed past Milla’s face, pulling tears from her eyes. She laughed out loud and hugged Iggie’s neck, screaming, “Iggie-eeee! You’re amazing!”
Then they left the island behind them. The world was just wind and sea and sky and the speed of it. And they were one, like they’d never been before. She held Iggie tightly with her arms and her legs, feeling his power and determination and delight.
He soared, wings spread, a
nd they curved around. To the east, ahead of them, the sun rose above the horizon, a sliver of burning coal, getting warmer and brighter every moment. The mist began to burn off.
Milla looked back at Arcosi, seeing it as a true island for the first time. A rock in the sea: so small and self-contained. Beyond it, in the distance, the mainland sprawled like a fish laid out on a slab, with the forked tail of Sartola pointing south.
A strange new feeling possessed Milla. She felt completely calm. She felt light and free. She felt like nothing—a speck in the wind—and part of everything, all at the same time. She could fly all day. Up here, there were no troubles. No one to answer to. Just Iggie and Milla, and this perfect motion, going on and on forever.
Here at last, she felt at home. Home in the sky? She laughed again and screeched aloud, “Eeee-eeee!”
It felt like a weight lifting.
It felt like freedom.
She could feel Iggie’s deep, deep joy, matching her own.
It was bitterly cold up high, and Milla started shivering so hard she could barely hold on. With regret, she felt Iggie turning slowly back toward Arcosi. He started to flap his wings hard again, steering them homeward.
Her heart felt heavier in her chest.
She didn’t want to go back. She didn’t want to face Isak’s disapproval. She wanted to fly forever.
Iggie circled the island and they came in from the north, aiming to stay concealed.
Milla peered down, looking for the Yellow House, wondering when she could tell Kara what had happened. She needed to ask her advice.
“How do we land?” Milla asked, suddenly afraid. She tried not to look down at the rocks that loomed up, or think what would happen if she slipped now.
Iggie knew what to do. He soared in and dropped over the palace gardens, circling in tighter and tighter circles, till suddenly the palace towers were above them again and there was the grass coming up to meet them, too fast, too fast and then—“Oof!” Milla slammed against Iggie’s neck, with a hard jolt that winded her, banging her cheek as she slid forward to land in a heap at his feet.
Gasping, she put out both arms, facedown, and embraced the solid ground, wondering if she was going to throw up.