by Resa Nelson
Tall iron pikes, identical to the ones loaded in the wagons, lined a section of the island's rock wall, forming a fence between land and sea.
"Who's in charge?" Astrid said.
"You don't know?” Randim turned to her in surprise. "Drageen."
Astrid nodded. Just as she'd expected.
The ship docked at the island's small pier, which extended under a round entryway carved into the enormous rock wall. Astrid joined the blacksmiths while they unloaded and carried their forged goods onto the island.
Once inside the exterior wall, they entered the gate complex, a wide alley flanked by tall stone walls. Guards stood at ease by the tower gate, now raised for visitors to enter.
The gate was a wall of twisted strands of iron, like a gigantic version of Astrid's brooch. Dragon bones, enormous and bleached from the sun, were tied to the gate. Dragon skulls, sharp-toothed and narrow in the jaw, were impaled on the tips of tall iron spears near the guards.
The iron tools in Astrid's arms clattered when she trembled. She held them tighter, not wanting to give herself away.
"Hullo, hullo," a guard said cheerfully as the blacksmiths walked through the gate.
"Tell Drageen I wish to see him," Randim told the guards.
Astrid kept a low profile among the blacksmiths as they walked through the low-arched gate then into the large open courtyard surrounding the tower. Several women gossiped around the well in the courtyard center while their children chased geese around small fires where cooks roasted meat and turnips. Men ground barley on stone slabs, while others shaped flat bread on slabs they slid into mound-like ovens.
Cattle lowed in the distance, beyond the wall separating the tower grounds from the grazing land.
High above, the carrion birds screamed.
Astrid saw her walk away from the other women at the well, wearing a long, fine linen dress as pale as a peach. "Mauri," Astrid whispered, grateful and relieved to see her alive and unharmed.
Mauri walked toward the tower. If she entered, Astrid might never have another opportunity to help her. The chance of getting past the guards was slim, but Astrid saw no alternative.
Astrid dropped the tools she carried. She bolted from the midst of the blacksmiths, catching up with Mauri in seconds. She caught both of Mauri's hands in her own. "Mauri!"
Startled, Mauri pulled free. Her hands were still twisted, the cost of Astrid freeing Mauri from the brigands' shackles.
Something was wrong. Mauri acted cool and distant. She stepped away from Astrid.
Their chance to escape was narrow. Every second mattered.
True to his word, Randim looked away, directing his blacksmiths to set down their work on the courtyard, creating a noisy commotion. Everyone watched the blacksmiths, oblivious to Astrid and Mauri.
Astrid lunged toward Mauri, grabbing her elbow.
But Mauri wrenched free, frowning. "Don't touch me."
This couldn't be happening. It didn't make any sense.
Astrid strove to be clear and plain. "I'm here to take you from this place. But if we don't hurry—"
Mauri's eyes widened in fear, and she backed away again. "I don't want to leave. And you don't have the power to make me."
Incredulous, Astrid felt her jaw slacken. "What?"
"Astrid," said a familiar voice.
Drageen approached Astrid. His soft brown hair fell in loose wisps to his shoulders, and fine stubble dotted his upper lip and the sides of his chin. His pale lavender eyes gazed into hers.
"Welcome home, sister," Drageen said to Astrid.
CHAPTER 19
Astrid wrapped her fingers around Mauri's misshapen wrist. "Run!” Astrid shouted.
But Mauri stood her ground.
Astrid stared at Mauri in disbelief. Why wouldn't she run? "He's the one who kidnapped us," Astrid said. "He and his men destroyed Guell!"
"And so she returns," Drageen said. "Stealthily, slippery, sliding back to the womb where she belongs. Born a Scalding, die a Scalding."
Astrid took another look at Mauri. Her face was blank.
"Randim!” Astrid cried out to the blacksmith.
Randim's steps clattered across the courtyard's stone floor.
Astrid's heart sank when she saw the disappointment on his face.
"You never told me you were Drageen's sister," Randim said. "You never said you belong to the Scalding clan."
The other blacksmiths gathered behind Randim, their faces knotted with surprise and anger.
"I'm not one of them," Astrid said.
But Randim's and the blacksmiths' expressions didn't change. Astrid's words made no difference.
In a moment of desperation and weakness, Astrid lied. "Look at me!” Astrid said. "How can I be a Scalding? I look nothing like them."
Her skin looked brown, especially next to Drageen's pale white skin. She’d made her eyes black, while his were lavender. She had straight dark hair and a heart-shaped face, while his hair was brown and wavy, his face square.
Randim frowned, his disappointment deepening. "You look like brother and sister to me. I should have noticed the resemblance sooner. Maybe it was your scars that deceived me."
Memory stung Astrid. She'd already forgotten—Randim and the blacksmiths couldn't see the way Astrid shaped herself.
"These men," Drageen murmured. "They're not like you and me. They see what's really there, not what you want them to see."
"You lied to me," Randim said to Astrid.
"Please," Astrid said. "Take me back, and Mauri, too."
Randim ignored her and spoke to Drageen. "There is a problem. I bought Astrid from two of your brigands."
"Ah," Drageen said. "So that's what happened to her."
"I paid a high price," Randim said. "I need her to get work done."
"Is the work for anyone other than me?” Drageen said.
"Not at the moment, but we can't finish in a timely fashion without Astrid's help."
Drageen nodded. "Her safe return is all I care about. I'll give you double what you gave for her and all the time you need to get the work done. Fair?"
"Fair.” Randim's face relaxed. "Done."
Astrid took a step toward Randim. "Please help me. He killed everyone in my town. If you leave me here, he'll kill Mauri. He'll kill me, too."
Randim looked questioningly at Drageen.
Drageen leaned forward to kiss the back of Astrid's head. "Don't exaggerate, sister. It's unattractive."
Astrid turned to the blacksmiths. "I'll work hard," she said. "I'll stay longer than the 40 days I promised. I'll stay as long as you like. I'll do any work you want. Any work you don't like doing yourselves. I'll build fires, haul water, clean your tools, and keep the smithery neat..."
"I'm sorry, Astrid.” For the first time, Randim looked at her in pity. "Truly sorry."
As Randim and his men walked away, Astrid's hope died. For the first time since she'd left Tower Island as a child, she felt lost and alone in the world.
* * *
Standing in the crisp ocean air on Tower Island's dock, Randim shook his head after counting his men boarding ship. "Who's missing?"
He paced up and down the dock, registering the face of every blacksmith he saw. They'd delivered their goods to Tower Island and were ready to go home.
A low rumble of thunder caught Randim's attention. He looked up, spotting the storm line on the horizon. They'd have to leave soon to reach shore before the storm hit.
Randim counted heads. He realized who was missing. He raced down the dock, past the guards at the gate, and into the courtyard. "Trep!” Randim shouted, searching the yard for his missing blacksmith.
Randim ground his teeth, still angry Astrid had lied. Hers was a lie of omission, but a lie nonetheless. She'd failed to tell him she was a Scalding. A Scalding! The very people who employed Randim and his entire camp of blacksmiths.
On one hand, Randim couldn't understand Astrid's silence. He would have expected her to be proud to belong to the
Scalding clan, maybe even to flaunt it. There were plenty who would.
On the other hand, Randim had been feeling more and more ill at ease taking the Scalding's payment. He'd heard plenty of rumors about Tower Island and the Scaldings.
Legend had it that the clan earned their name centuries ago by pouring boiling oil from the high tower walls down on attacking enemies, scalding their skin. And then there were stories of torture and murder and how they fed their victims to the carrion birds, which would explain why the birds constantly circled above, sometimes perching atop the high gold tower.
Every day he found it more difficult to look the other way.
Astrid herself had spoken up, questioning the kind of work the blacksmiths had taken on.
Why would she—a Scalding—question Randim's decisions? Drageen had said it himself: born a Scalding, die a Scalding. Anyone with the slightest bit of survival instinct stood by their kindred. Safety in numbers. Safety among your own kind.
Why was it that Astrid didn't act like the other Scaldings?
Randim pursed his lips in frustration, walking the perimeter of the courtyard, searching for Trep.
The problem was, who else could give Randim's camp the amount of work they needed? They lived in Scalding territory, surrounded by small farming towns, each indebted to the Scaldings for the past 100 years—if Drageen told the towns to shun Randim, they would.
There were other territories, but traveling to any one of them meant spending weeks on dangerous roads.
And then there were rumors he'd heard from brigands. Rumors from the far south of a powerful king with powerful soldiers who slaughtered villages in the name of a new god.
Randim understood raids for the purpose of acquiring wealth, although he believed it was more honorable to work for wealth than to steal it. But the idea of killing in the name of a god left a bad taste in his mouth. It made him admire brigands, who hid nothing about their intentions.
Brigands had told Randim about the southern attacks, speculating those attacks would someday find their way north. Probably not for years to come, but likely nonetheless.
No matter how Randim looked at the situation, he saw no good reason to stay in Scalding territory.
"Sir?"
Randim recognized the blonde woman as Astrid's friend.
Mauri looked the same, and yet somehow different. Before, she'd stood meekly, eyes downcast, shoulders hunched as if trying to shrink out of sight. Now, she stood tall, shoulders straight, meeting Randim's eyes.
It was almost as if she'd become a different person.
Mauri cocked her head at Randim as she smiled. "I come to deliver a message from Trep."
Randim's eyes narrowed, sensing something wrong but not knowing what it was. "What message?"
"He took ill. Another ship came, and he left on it."
Now Randim felt certain something had gone wrong. Trep owned the constitution of a bull. He'd stood up to more pain than anyone Randim knew, working through any amount of discomfort or illness to get the job done. It didn't make sense for Trep to leave on his own, without Randim and the other blacksmiths.
"He said he'll meet you ashore," Mauri said. She took a step toward Randim. "Was this man not ill when you arrived?"
That's right. Randim had seen Trep collapse on the brigands' dock, but Trep had perked up once they were at sea. Maybe Trep's illness had become more serious than anyone realized.
Thunder rumbled again, louder this time, closer.
Randim looked up. The storm threatened to move in soon. He wasn't willing to risk losing his men at sea to a bad storm. He'd leave Tower Island without Trep, trusting to find him ashore at the brigands' camp.
Randim nodded his thanks to Mauri, and then ran across the courtyard toward the gates.
He'd had enough of Tower Island.
CHAPTER 20
"That's my girl," the alchemist said to Astrid, collecting the tears from her face into a small metal bowl.
The alchemist was a plump woman who wore her long white hair in a neat bun on top of her head. The bun was pierced through with some of the alchemist's tools: large wooden needles and delicate metal rods with flat, sharp tips. She smelled faintly of sulfur. "Just a few more, and we'll be done."
Astrid had been given her own room, complete with a great featherbed and fine silk bed sheets. Maids bathed her with warm water each morning and dressed her in long linen dresses. Each day they led her to the alchemist.
The alchemist's sphere consisted of a space carved inside a large round globe hanging high inside the tower wall like a goiter on an old man's neck. Shallow, semi-circular steps led to the bottom of the sphere's interior.
Every day the alchemist gave slices of onion to Astrid to make her cry.
Astrid had already tried changing her body, wanting to make it bigger and stronger.
But she couldn't, no more than she could after the dragon had crashed through the birch trees in Astrid's smithery back in Guell, when Taddeo had changed her body and Astrid couldn't change it back.
Astrid felt like something had broken inside her. She'd lost something important.
No matter how hard she tried, Astrid couldn't change her shape. Even worse, her smooth brown skin had faded to pale white, covered with scars from head to toe. She'd unwillingly reverted to her Scalding body, not understanding why it was happening.
"Take heart, Astrid," the alchemist said, shifting the metal bowl across the edge of Astrid's jaw to catch every tear that flowed down her face. "Your brother loves you. You're very important to him."
"Important enough to kill everyone in Guell," Astrid said bitterly.
"You don't believe what I portend?" the alchemist said.
"It's impossible to look into the future."
"I foresaw your mother would die on the day she gave birth to you," the alchemist said, cutting another onion slice. "I foresaw your father's death. Your brother believes my portents. Had you stayed, against my advice, you would have died 20 years ago.” The alchemist glanced up, offering the extra onion slice on top of her knife blade. "When I advised Drageen to send you away, I saved your life."
Astrid refused the slice. "I don't believe in magic."
The alchemist dropped it into the bowl of cut onions in Astrid's lap. "That's a pity."
Astrid believed the alchemist intended to manipulate her.
The alchemist stroked the fur of a shore cat napping at her feet. When the animal stirred, the alchemist spoke high-pitched squeaking sounds to it.
Was the alchemist speaking a language it could understand?
Had the shore cat acted not as Dragon's Sight, but as the alchemist's eyes?
The shore cat stretched and yawned, then padded up the semi-circular steps to exit the sphere.
The alchemist took the bowl of tears. She opened a jar and poured a few black ashes into the bowl.
"What is that?"
The alchemist focused on the bowl, stirring its contents. "Ashes from Guell."
Her answer sent a new chill through Astrid's bones. "Is that why Drageen destroyed Guell?"
"My recipe required it," the alchemist said. "It came to me in the portent. Ashes of houses, ashes of those who lived in them. Ashes of all but you, and the one who watched."
Astrid wrapped her arms around herself. "The one who watched?"
Instead of answering, the alchemist untied a leather pouch from her belt. She dumped the contents of the pouch into the palm of her hand.
It was a crimson-colored gem, no larger than Astrid's smallest fingernail.
It looked like the same kind of red stone Lenore had dug out of Astrid's foot that day in the woods. The same gem Astrid had later given to Mauri, who'd promised to send it with Donel to another town where an alchemist would examine it.
But Mauri had promised to send it to an alchemist in a town—not here on Tower Island.
"Where did you get that?” Astrid said.
"From your brother."
But a larger question
haunted Astrid. "What is it?"
The alchemist studied the surface of the gem, rubbing it with her thumb. "Dragon spittle is full of many poisons. A single bite is enough to kill anyone within days. But legends say some people are born with a special essence that protects them from any dragon's bite. That essence, combined with dragon's spittle, produces something very precious and rare, in time."
The alchemist extended her hand toward Astrid, showing her the gem. "Bloodstones. You survived the dragon's bites. Your essence protected you and produced this over your lifetime."
The alchemist turned her attention back toward the bowl of Astrid's tears. "There are many ways to activate the special properties of a bloodstone, but I think there's a certain poetry in using the tears from the same body that produced it."
She dropped the bloodstone into the bowl of tears.
"Properties?"
"There! See?” The alchemist beamed, pointing to the bowl of tears, turning red. "It's begun."
"What's begun?"
"The process. Releasing its properties. Takes awhile, but it's worth it."
Astrid and the alchemist looked up as a sneeze echoed inside the sphere.
Mauri stood alone at its entrance, sniffing.
"You've caught cold," the alchemist said. She pulled a small vial of golden fluid from the hair piled on top of her head. "Drink this."
Mauri accepted the vial and pulled a small cork from its top. She downed its contents. "How long does it take to work?" Mauri said.
The alchemist smiled. "Soon. Sometime today."
Mauri ignored Astrid, speaking to the alchemist. "Do you have what you need?"
"I do," the alchemist said. "You can take her."
Astrid took heart in the good fortune of time alone with Mauri, following her from the alchemist's sphere into the high-walled narrow hallways of the tower.
Astrid took a few quick steps to catch up with Mauri. Astrid spoke softly, knowing these walls and how sound carried inside the tower. "It's not too late."
Mauri said nothing, staring at the stone floor as they walked.
"I know this tower's secrets," Astrid whispered. "If you free me, we can hide together. We can still escape."