《Accidentally Human》


 Chapter 1

    Windmane had just sold one of the larger tapestries to a human who could barely carry it when a dryad popped up from the wooden floor. The human kept to a courteous distance as the dryad announced that the festival was ending, and the marketplace stalls should begin their breakdown process. Windmane heard other dryads make similar announcements farther along. Punctual as ever, they left nothing to chance.


    ¡°Overhead performances will start soon, to make departure more pleasant,¡± the dryad said. Her voice was as smooth as the others from this vast grove, and her skin as dark as the wood she had formed from. She¡¯d taken the humanlike shape that the dryads favored, which Windmane privately had opinions about. Centaur form would clearly have been a better choice. The dryad finished her announcement with ¡°Thank you for making this festival one we can all enjoy! See you next year.¡± She then disappeared into the root system that made up the sprawling wooden floor of the festival grounds.


    The marketplace instantly turned loud and chaotic. Windmane hurried to roll up the other tapestries hung at her portion of the stall, while staying out of the way of her herdmates tasked with gathering the money and disassembling the stall itself. She had been to the annual Dryad Forest Festival before, and she knew the dance. If there were no interruptions, the eight of them would have the stall reassembled into their personal pull-carts and be ready to go before the worst of the traffic blocked the lanes.


    I wonder if the dryads will open more lanes through the forest this year, Windmane thought. Probably not. The plants are more important than the impatience of outsiders. She covered the tapestry bundles and strapped them together firmly while her thoughts wandered to the fool newcomers who¡¯d braved a shortcut off the wooden paths last year. Dryad law was strict, and their branches sharp. And aside from the painful death, you don¡¯t want to get the rest of your herd banned from selling here next year.


    Something brushed her ear, causing it to flick in irritation.


    ¡°Oh, catch it!¡± exclaimed a tiny voice.


    Windmane leaned back to see a floating blue fruit bobbing skyward. She grabbed it and looked around for the voice, unsurprised to see one of the pixies from the next stall over.


    ¡°Thank you!¡± the tiny fellow said, taking it from her hand. It was bigger than he was, but he carried it easily enough, his wings an iridescent blur behind him. ¡°These things get away so easily!¡±


    ¡°I bet,¡± Windmane said, going back to work. ¡°At least they won¡¯t get stepped on.¡±


    ¡°Very true!¡± the pixie agreed. He made no move to rejoin his own swarm, who were wrangling a variety of skymelons and airberries. ¡°I¡¯d hoped we would have sold all of them, but at least we¡¯ll have a snack for the flight home! How¡¯d you folks make out?¡±


    ¡°Pretty well,¡± Windmane said with a glance at the remaining sculptures and paintings that were being packed away with the sketchbooks. ¡°A lot of artistic types this year.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good! Hey, nice charcoal sticks. Trade one for a skyfruit?¡±


    Windmane started to do the mental math, then gave up and grabbed one while her herdmate¡¯s back was turned. Faster than having a proper conversation about it. ¡°Sure,¡± she said. ¡°Why not.¡±


    The pixie happily traded one oversized item for another, and zipped off to pack the charcoal stick. ¡°Thank you!¡±


    ¡°No problem,¡± Windmane said. She gave the skyfruit a quick once-over, then took a bite. It wasn¡¯t bad. Good enough to eat one-handed while she worked, which was fortunate. She¡¯d had a passing thought about chucking it into the sky if it tasted foul, but she realized now that that could possibly get the pixies in trouble for littering.


    A many-voiced ¡°Ooh¡± told Windmane that the performances had started. She glanced up to see whorls of color glowing against the blue of the late-afternoon sky. It was nice enough to be worth a pause in the stall breakdown, with her herdmates doing the same, before unanimously getting back to it. Windmane¡¯s portion was properly bundled just before her cart was made ready, which made her quietly proud. The others hadn¡¯t had a chatty pixie interrupting them, brief though that was.


    ¡°Hey, got any more of those charcoal sticks?¡± asked a voice.


    Windmane sighed. There he was, holding a cluster of yellow airberries this time. ¡°Gimme a sec,¡± she said as she lifted her bundle of tapestries to press it snugly into its designated corner of the cart. The charcoal sticks were gone from the flat surface that was now a cart side, but she was reasonably sure she knew where they¡¯d been stored.


    With a glance at the flow of passersby that was increasing with every passing moment, Windmane stepped out past her two closest herdmates who were busy with a stuck hinge. The pixie followed her, a glittery presence that whirred faintly.


    As Windmane was reaching up to undo the laces of the pack that should hold charcoal sticks, she heard new exclamations from the crowd. She didn¡¯t bother to look until the pixie commented on it.


    ¡°That¡¯s weird. I thought all the entertainment was supposed to be up in the sky.¡±


    Ears flat, Windmane whirled. Thoughts of malfunctioning magic filled her head. But instead of some dire calamity, all she saw was a handful of golden trails wandering through the air.


    ¡°Yes, strange,¡± was all she managed to get out before one of them picked up speed in her direction. Windmane ducked, bending all four knees and leaning forward in the hopes that it would miss her. But instead it dipped lower too. She flinched as golden light blasted her in the face, turning the world into starshine and the feeling of poor circulation. She was distantly aware of her legs collapsing underneath her.


    Only a moment passed before her vision cleared to show the concerned faces of her herdmates, with no glowy magic to be seen.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°I saw something bright; what was that?¡±


    Windmane got to her hooves unsteadily, doing her best to explain what had happened when she herself had no idea. Whatever it had been, it didn¡¯t seem to have done any damage.


    ¡°Let us know if anything feels out of the ordinary,¡± said Stormteeth, the sub-alpha in charge of the trip. ¡°We¡¯ll declare it to the dryads on our way out.¡±


    Windmane nodded. She opened her mouth to say something, but was distracted by the cluster of pixies on the floor next to her. They were gathered around the one who¡¯d been holding the berries earlier.


    She pushed between herdmates. ¡°Hey, did it get you too?¡± she asked.


    The pixie zipped up to her head height, looking cheerful enough. The others rose in a cloud around him. ¡°Yeah, weirdest thing!¡± he said. ¡°Pretty, though. I wonder who else was lucky enough to get a faceful of color!¡±


    The dread in Windmane¡¯s core only grew. ¡°You don¡¯t feel any effects?¡± Pixies were highly attuned to magic.


    He waved a hand that had the same faint glow as usual. ¡°Nah, all good now. Well, back to it I guess! Oh hey, where did my berries go? Did you find that charcoal stick?¡±


    Windmane reluctantly put the experience from her mind, asking the herdmate whose cart it was to kindly retrieve a charcoal stick for the pixie. The other centaurs were all clearly on edge, judging by ear position and the terse tone to everyone¡¯s voice, but no one spoke further of it. The pixies as a whole seemed to have forgotten it entirely.


    ¡°Thanks a bunch! Enjoy your berries!¡±


    The pixie fluttered off. Still feeling an unsteadiness that could have been caused by nerves as much as anything, Windmane stood out of everyone¡¯s way and began eating the berries. No one objected. Stormteeth made sure that her cart was prepared for her.


    Some minutes later, when the last cart was nearly ready, Windmane found herself falling bonelessly toward the wooden floor again. She managed a short squeal of alarm, but didn¡¯t even see the ground hit.


    * * * * *


    When she opened her eyes this time, the colors were wrong. Sharper, and ¡­ hotter somehow. Windmane blinked, but the view of the treetops didn¡¯t change. She tried to roll to her feet. It didn¡¯t work.


    What is¡­ Windmane thought vaguely as she braced her hands on the ground and bent to look down at what appeared to be two outsized arms instead of proper forelegs. Her hind legs, tail, and everything between were gone. Where is the rest of me??


    She looked up, trying not to hyperventilate, and saw her herdmates standing a few steps back. ¡°What happened?¡± Windmane asked. ¡°Where¡¯s ¡ª What happened??¡±


    Stormteeth shook herself and stepped forward, directing the others to keep the crowds back. ¡°Change of plan,¡± she said to Windmane. ¡°We¡¯re contacting the dryads right now.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± Windmane said weakly. She realized that her ears weren¡¯t responding when she tried to move them, and tentative fingertips found them similarly missing. But there were other, smaller ears lower on her head, and that was when she realized the obvious. ¡°Human? Am I a human somehow?¡± That explained the arm-legs.


    Stormteeth snorted. ¡°It appears so,¡± she said. While the others formed a protective wall that made Windmane feel marginally better, Stormteeth held out both hands. ¡°Can you stand?¡±


    Windmane took her hands, and attempted the most difficult balancing act since she¡¯d learned to walk the first time. Her clothes got in the way. The tunic still fit, though it draped to nearly her knees, but the caparison was a flowing mess behind her. Her shoes lay empty on the floor, still laced. Stormteeth helped her remove the caparison, then supported her weight while Windmane swayed like a sapling.


    ¡°These feet are so soft!¡± she exclaimed, shifting her weight further. ¡°The floor is cold. And hard. How do humans keep their balance like this? And the colors! What is wrong with the colors??¡± The treetops had been solid green before, but they were full of scattered yellows and oranges now. And some of the passersby that she caught glimpses of wore clothes that were shockingly vibrant.


    ¡°We¡¯ll get this straightened out,¡± Stormteeth said. ¡°If you lean on me, can you walk?¡±


    The herdmates parted to let her try. It was decidedly iffy. Windmane clutched Stormteeth¡¯s caparison and apologized for pulling it sideways when she almost fell.


    Then she saw something that the others hadn¡¯t noticed yet: a naked human sitting on the ground, surrounded by pixies.


    ¡°Oh no,¡± Windmane said.


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    Stormteeth followed her look, and clicked her tongue in disapproval. ¡°I guess we¡¯d better bring him along. The dryads will want to know.¡±


    ¡°Give him my cape,¡± Windmane suggested, nodding toward the discarded caparison. ¡°The pixies won¡¯t have anything big enough to cover him.¡±


    Stormteeth snorted agreement, and directed the closest herdmate to do so. The former pixie was still looking at his hands in confusion when the large blue cloth appeared before him.


    ¡°Here. Wrap this around yourself, and come with us to see the dryads.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± he said, blinking. ¡°Thanks!¡± He took the offered hand up, and managed to stand on his own with a minimum of wobbling.


    Windmane was distinctly bitter about that.


    With help from the many pixies, he got the caparison tied roughly about his midsection in the ugliest fashion statement Windmane¡¯s clothes had ever been subjected to. But it covered him enough for human decency rules.


    ¡°Wow, everything looks so tiny!¡± he said. ¡°Color¡¯s a little weird, though.¡±


    Windmane snorted, still leaning on Stormteeth. ¡°Tell me about it.¡±


    It was only now that the former pixie noticed her, and put two and two together. ¡°Oh hey, you too?¡±


    Windmane sighed. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°This is pretty wild, huh?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Stormteeth motioned for the pixie to move forward. ¡°Can you walk, or will you need assistance?¡±


    ¡°I think I¡¯ve got it. Everything¡¯s heavier, and moves really slowly, but it¡¯s not too bad.¡± To demonstrate, he took several steps, only to step on something unpleasant, flail about, and fall. ¡°Ew ew ew! What was that ¡ª Aww, the airberries!¡±


    Windmane stared at the bright splotch on the wood, and thought that there was no possible way it could be the last few she hadn¡¯t eaten. True, the stems had weighed them down enough that they¡¯d probably fallen when she did, but these weren¡¯t the right color. The berries had been yellow. This was the brightest, hottest color she¡¯d ever seen.


    She squinted. ¡°What color is that?¡± she asked.


    The former pixie was wiping his foot on the wood. ¡°Red?¡± he asked, his confusion evident. ¡°Does it look different to you too? Seems more purple than before.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s red?¡± Windmane leaned forward until Stormteeth had to catch her. ¡°It can¡¯t be. I know red. It¡¯s just a darker yellow. This is ¡ª I don¡¯t know, the color of some magical fire that breaks reality.¡±


    ¡°Nope, definitely red,¡± the pixie said, getting unsteadily to his feet. ¡°I guess your horsey-pupil eyes don¡¯t see the full spectrum? Sorry; that¡¯s got to be boring.¡±


    Windmane opened and closed her mouth in outrage. ¡°Humans can see more colors than we can? How come no one ever told me??¡±


    The pixie shrugged. ¡°Guess it never came up. Oh, my name¡¯s Twig, by the way. Hey, we can even shake hands now! I¡¯ve never gotten to do that with a big person!¡±


    Windmane freed one hand to shake his, to his clear delight. ¡°I¡¯m Windmane,¡± she said, still leaning on her herdmate¡¯s back.


    ¡°I am Stormteeth,¡± the sub-alpha broke in. ¡°Let¡¯s be going before the crowds get worse. Stay close, Twig.¡±


    ¡°Sure thing!¡± the former pixie said, taking deliberate steps until he stood at Windmane¡¯s side. He looked much the same as before: spiky blonde hair, blue eyes, and golden-tan skin, just no longer glowing. Human ears. A grating sense of optimism. ¡°Things smell a little different, but I can¡¯t put my finger on it,¡± he said. ¡°And wow, this floor is hard!¡±


    Windmane snorted again. ¡°Right?¡± Then Stormteeth urged them to move, and all her attention was spent on trying not to fall. She just couldn¡¯t figure out how to move herself forward without clinging to Stormteeth¡¯s clothes. After some rearrangement, several herdmates stayed behind to mind the carts, while two walked on either side, holding Windmane up by the arms. Stormteeth led the group. Windmane¡¯s feet barely rested on the ground. It was incredibly embarrassing, but it was clearly the only way they would get anywhere.


    Twig walked behind her, resting a hand on each back for balance and providing a running commentary. A handful of pixies flitted through the air around them, but none introduced themselves.


    ¡°The depth perception is screwy somehow,¡± Twig said. ¡°Things move at a different speed than I¡¯d expect. And I can¡¯t get over how heavy everything is! Wow, I think my heart¡¯s beating slower. Wild.¡±


    Windmane kept her mouth shut and her eyes forward. Everyone was staring; she wasn¡¯t imagining it. And bright red things were everywhere! That sign, those dresses, that apple ¡ª surely someone should have told her. This was unfair.


    She kept her mind on righteous indignation instead of the creeping fear that this wouldn¡¯t be fixable. Eventually they arrived. There was, of course, a line of people ahead of them. Windmane¡¯s escorts set her down to wait. She decided that she didn¡¯t like the cold of the wooden floor. Was this why humans wore shoes all the time? How terrible.


    When they finally reached the front of the line, Stormteeth explained the problem to the dryad representative. To Windmane¡¯s mild surprise, the dryad appeared to already know about the incident.


    ¡°Is there anyone else in line,¡± she asked loudly, ¡°Who has just been transformed into human shape against their will?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said a sour male voice. Windmane craned her neck to see a pale man with dark hair going gray at the temples, piercing green eyes, and what might have been a flying carpet wrapped around him like a fashionable drape.


    ¡°Me too,¡± said a woman farther down the line, waving a muscular arm that was darker than the wooden floor. She wore proper clothes, though they were clearly loose on her, an impressive feat given her height. Her dark hair was cropped close to her skull; her eyes were brown and full of worry.


    When the two minotaurs behind her put comforting hands on her shoulders, Windmane figured out why the clothes were so big.


    ¡°Please come forward,¡± the dryad said.


    The two humans did, bringing the minotaurs and a deer-sized silver dragon with them. That explained the man.


    No wonder he looks grumpy, Windmane thought as the former dragon crossed his arms in front of the dryad. At least it looks like he¡¯s been on two legs before. Dragons are supposed to be good at all kinds of magic. I guess not good enough to turn himself back.


    The dryad wasted no time. She explained what the dryads as a whole had observed ¡ª which, given their presence in the woodwork, was always a lot ¡ª and told the four victims what they had to do.


    ¡°The people who activated this spell were selling decorative illusions, and they have been detained outside the festival wall,¡± she said. ¡°My sisters will make sure that no one interferes while you who were victimized settle your business with them.¡±


    Twig spoke up from behind Windmane. ¡°What if they refuse to fix it? How do we settle then?¡±


    The dryad spread her hands. ¡°That is up to you.¡±


    Twig looked like he wanted to object, but the former dragon hissed at him to be silent. ¡°Dryad law, boy. They¡¯re impartial when it doesn¡¯t affect them. Don¡¯t get yourself in worse trouble.¡±


    ¡°That is correct,¡± the dryad said serenely. ¡°You will need to collect the fifth victim of this spell on your way out. We observed there to be five impacts, and the fifth is not here.¡±


    ¡°Where, then?¡± asked the dragon.


    ¡°We will escort you to her, and then to the detainment site,¡± the dryad said. Two other dryads appeared out of the floor behind her, looking nearly identical. ¡°Please step aside to settle with your associates, then prepare to be escorted.¡±


    ¡°Wait, settle with our what?¡± Twig asked as the centaurs ushered him along with Windmane. Pixies fluttered about him anxiously. ¡°Do we have to go alone?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the former dragon.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Twig said in a small voice.


    Windmane hoped that the dragon knew how to convince the people to reverse the spell, since the rest of them surely didn¡¯t. She gritted her teeth and kept silent.


    Once out of the way of the line, the group fell into multiple conversations at once. Windmane discovered that it was harder to keep track with ears that couldn¡¯t swivel.


    ¡°We¡¯ll wait for you at the gate we entered by,¡± Stormteeth told her. ¡°Your cart and responsibilities will be portioned between the others in case you aren¡¯t prepared to pull it afterward.¡±


    Windmane agreed, heart in her throat. The carts were made for this sort of thing, easily disassembled and shared in case someone twisted an ankle on the trip. Windmane dearly hoped that it wouldn¡¯t be necessary.


    Stormteeth put a comforting hand on her head, which helped a bit. Windmane leaned against her herdmates, making fists in their clothes and trying to put on a brave smile.


    She watched the other humans say their temporary goodbyes: Twig speaking quickly to the pixies, the former minotaur getting hugged tightly by her kin, and the former dragon giving instructions to his apprentice before demanding that the dryads provide clothes.


    To Windmane¡¯s surprise, they did. There was a lost-and-found maintained from previous festivals, with more than enough two-legger clothes left unclaimed. Windmane knew that she herself would be hesitant to bother the dryads about something left behind unless it was truly important. No great surprise that these people hadn¡¯t come back.


    As she picked through the selection, which held a large amount of complete outfits, Windmane started to suspect that some of these had actually come from outsiders who had violated the laws. Bodies go to fertilizer; clothes go to¡­ here. Oh dear.


    She decided not to say anything about it. Instead she picked a loose set of leg-coverings that looked like they wouldn¡¯t add to her mobility problems. They were clearly made for a bigger person, but the drawstring at the top cinched close enough. And they were brown, which felt enough like the legs she was missing that she had to blink a tear from one eye.


    Shoes, though¡­


    ¡°These all hurt,¡± she complained. ¡°Are human shoes supposed to hurt?¡± Everyone nearby had hooves, and couldn¡¯t tell her. Finally Twig surfaced from digging through the shirts to help her out.


    ¡°Shoes should be comfortable, just like any clothes,¡± he asserted. ¡°Though these all have far more¡­ armor on the bottom than any pixie shoe I¡¯ve ever worn. I¡¯ve never seen a human block a sword with their foot, but I guess they must. Or they walk over a lot of rough things.¡±


    ¡°Just pick something,¡± exclaimed the dragon man, already dressed in a silky black outfit patterned with flowers. He¡¯d found boots that reached halfway to his knee and appeared to fit him perfectly. The carpet was rolled up under his arm. The young dragon was hurrying off with words about how fast they would be.


    Twig helped Windmane find shoes that were comfortable enough: flat slabs of leather with a bunch of straps that adjusted to any foot. He claimed some of the armor-soled heavy boots for himself, visibly delighted by the idea of breaking things by stepping on them. Windmane thought they looked silly with the puffy-sleeved pink shirt and fuzzy green pants, but that was his problem.


    The minotaur woman had kept her oversized shirt, but added a belt over it along with another pair of the drawstring pants and some of her own heavy boots. Windmane had considered boots herself, since she missed her hooves fiercely, but uncomfortable hooves were worse than fake hooves. At least the minotaur¡¯s boots fit.


    When the awkward foursome were dressed, the two dryads selected another outfit from the pile before leading the way to where the last ¡°victim¡± apparently was.


    The silver dragon caught up with them before they got far, handing a cloth bag to the elder. Windmane was curious, but busy trying to walk. She was no better at it this time, and still had to be half-carried.


    When they approached the location of the fifth victim of the spell, it was clear where they were headed. This avenue of the festival ground had nearly emptied except for one tent, its stall front taken down but otherwise not prepared for departure. Several harpies hopped about anxiously outside. Swearing was audible from within.


    ¡°Wait here, please,¡± said one dryad, stopping on the pathway. The other glided forward with the clothes to greet the harpies. Then she vanished inside the tent.


    After a lengthy wait, a scrawny human woman stepped out, wearing an off-white shirt, brown pants, loose slippers, and body language that said she would much rather be a bird right now, thank you. Her arms were held close like wings, and she stood hunched over.


    ¡°Great!¡± said the former dragon. ¡°Let¡¯s be off.¡±


    The dryad ushered the harpy over to join the others. ¡°Bid your companions farewell for now,¡± she said, ¡°And we will guide you to those you quarrel with. It is a fair distance.¡±


    ¡°Wait!¡± Windmane exclaimed. ¡°I can¡¯t walk on my own!¡± To demonstrate the point, she stepped forward and overcalculated, pitching sideways against her herdmate.


    Before the dryads could respond, the dragon made an exasperated noise and strode forward, unrolling the carpet with a snap. He said a word that was difficult to hear, then set it down in midair.


    ¡°Get on,¡± he instructed. ¡°Guide it by leaning. Purely mental commands are more advanced.¡±


    Twig thought this was the best thing, and wanted to ride it with her. The dragon confirmed that it was strong enough for two, and in moments the pair of them were perched on the flying carpet, with Twig in front and far too enthusiastic for Windmane¡¯s peace of mind.


    ¡°May the luck of the herd be with you,¡± Stormteeth said, clasping Windmane¡¯s forearm.


    ¡°Thank you. I¡¯ll be back as soon as I can.¡± Windmane bid her other herdmates farewell, and watched as the minotaur woman said similar goodbyes.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be there in spirit,¡± the biggest minotaur was saying. ¡°Just let me know when I can punch them for messing with my herd.¡± She smacked fist to palm to demonstrate, her hoof-tipped fingers curled into something that could do serious damage. Windmane reflected that this female bull was more imposing than some of the male bulls she¡¯d met before. It was a shame was wasn¡¯t allowed to protect her herd properly from this sneaky magic.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be okay,¡± the former minotaur promised. ¡°The worst part is the way I can¡¯t see behind me now!¡± She shook her head, searching for a better range of vision. ¡°It¡¯s terrible!¡± The bull gave her another hug, and the other cow joined in.


    Windmane called out to them. ¡°We¡¯ll watch her back! Herd solidarity!¡± When the minotaurs separated to look, she waved an arm. ¡°Come walk with us. You can help keep this thing from tipping over. I have no idea what I¡¯m doing.¡±


    The former minotaur laughed weakly and gave a farewell caress, then took up a place beside the carpet. She moved reasonably well on two feet, though she kept trying to stand on her toes.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m Stomp.¡±


    ¡°Nice to meet you. I¡¯m Windmane, and this is Twig.¡±


    The dragon spoke up from next to the dryads. ¡°Can we go now?¡±


    The two dryads moved together, gliding along the wood without ever manifesting proper feet. The dragon followed with a wave to his apprentice and a hiss at the carpet to follow him.


    ¡°I guess we¡¯ll learn his name later,¡± Windmane said as the carpet moved under her. She clutched at the sides, then freed one hand to wave goodbye-for-now. Twig and Stomp did the same, while the harpy bounced along grumpily behind the dragon.


    The bushes that lined the wooden path held the brightest red flowers Windmane had ever seen.

 Chapter 2

    Razorscale strode along in a fine fit of pique. Human form was disagreeable enough at the best of times, and this did not qualify. He¡¯d hoped to never again need to be this sense-blind, with eyes that couldn¡¯t see far, ears that couldn¡¯t pick up the lowest tones, and a tongue that couldn¡¯t taste the air. The nose was useless. Everything about this form was unpleasant, including the dirty beige color in place of his vibrant blue scales. Unpleasant, and involuntary. Someone was going to pay.


    He went over his options as he walked, glad that he¡¯d thought to send the apprentice for the old bag of trainer charms. It had been with the festival supplies since the previous year; neither of them had touched it since the youth¡¯s talent outgrew the need.


    Quite a prodigy, that apprentice. They would be old enough to announce a name and a gender soon. Razorscale was quite proud. It was all down to his schooling, of course.


    And it was his magic that had made the trainer charms he now carried ¡ª his only access to magic at the moment. A selection of the more expensive charms that they had been selling would have been more useful, but those were packed away and would have taken too long to reach. This was better than nothing. But it rankled.


    The conversation behind him broke into his thoughts.


    ¡°Why are you taking this so hard?¡± That was the pixie¡¯s voice. ¡°A lot of people have two legs, you know.¡±


    ¡°Imagine if you woke up with your body below the armpits gone,¡± replied the centaur testily. ¡°And everyone expects you to waddle around on your hands. No amount of ¡®Oh, this is a normal shape¡¯ would keep it from being monstrously wrong.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough.¡± The pixie was silent for the barest moment. ¡°But isn¡¯t this interesting? Stomp, back me up here. Don¡¯t you just want to soak up every detail about what this is like?¡±


    ¡°Not really,¡± said the minotaur, to which Razorscale huffed a laugh. ¡°I can¡¯t hear or smell much at all, and I can only see in front of me. Plus when I talk, I have to be careful not to bite my tongue. I¡¯m not used to having top teeth in the front.¡±


    ¡°Whaaat, really?¡± The pixie clamored for confirmation.


    At least the centaur had already known that basic fact, and the harpy remained silent. Razorscale shook his head and refused to engage with the inanity. The dryads leading the way hadn¡¯t given any signs, but surely they would reach the destination soon. This was far from the festival grounds.


    As he thought it, they rounded a bend in the forest, and Razorscale¡¯s (weak, human) eyes caught sight of something out of place on the wooden path. A ring of poles jutted upward to nearly tree height, leaving space between them for nothing larger than a cat to escape. Four dryads waited outside. Two humans sulked inside. Their handcart of wares stood out of reach beyond.


    As Razorscale drew near enough to get a better look, he got the first hint that this wouldn¡¯t be simple. The humans weren¡¯t magic-users. They could surely activate the kind of charms that anyone could operate, but they didn¡¯t have the glowing blue lines that developed on the skin of every human who handled magic long-term. Humans weren¡¯t natural magicians, like Razorscale¡¯s own race was, and it marked them by the time they became skilled. It had taken great skill to craft the spell that had stolen Razorscale¡¯s shape. Skill that these two clearly did not have.


    The dryads on escort duty took up a position next to the four playing guard. These four all wore mistletoe tufts like clouds of hair, though they were otherwise unremarkable. Youths, then. Old enough to be trusted with detaining prisoners, but young and rebellious enough to wear a parasitic plant on their heads. Maybe they were wrong about the culprits.


    No such luck.


    ¡°You five,¡± announced one of the older dryads, ¡°Have a quarrel with you two, as a result of the spell that you two activated during the recent performance.¡±


    ¡°It affected five people?¡± exclaimed the scrawny human, who was dressed like a barely-respectable gutter dweller. ¡°Not one? I¡¯m out.¡± He clutched at a necklace through his shirt, which snapped with a green flash that launched him upwards.


    Right into the wooden roof that was growing into place over his head. He tumbled to the floor in a heap of swearing and failure.


    His stocky partner kicked him in the ribs. ¡°I told you we should have left sooner!¡± he hissed.


    A similar wooden cage flung itself into place around Razorscale and the other temporary humans, then the wall between the two sank away. Razorscale didn¡¯t need the dryads to tell him that now was the time for settling grudges.


    ¡°Reverse the spell,¡± he demanded, strolling forward. ¡°Or I will eat you. The small teeth will just make it take longer.¡±


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    The one on the floor panicked, scooting backward and searching his pockets while the other one pleaded for mercy.


    ¡°We can¡¯t!¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s not our spell!¡±


    ¡°Then whose is it?¡± Razorscale asked. He didn¡¯t break eye contact while reaching into the bag of charms. When answers weren¡¯t forthcoming, he activated a minor self-defense charm. The bag shielded his hand from view, which meant the two idiot humans didn¡¯t see the blue stripes that flashed up his own arm: the sign of someone far more capable than they, even in this form. It might have warned them.


    As it was, they suffered a swarm of invisible bee stings that was surely as alarming as it was painful.


    ¡°Tell me who,¡± Razorscale said.


    Instead of answering, they yelled and swatted at nothing, and the small one found the pocket he¡¯d been looking for.


    A blast of fire (of all things!) lit up the wooden cage. Razorscale bared his teeth and fingered a different charm, stopping that insult before it had done more than singe the bars. ¡°YOU DARE?¡±


    At this point the dryads apparently made a decision about the direction this was going, because the wooden poles snapped into wooden planks, turning the cage into a box. Only narrow slits of light filtered in from above.


    The floor tilted slightly. Then the box started to move, with only the barest of slow starts out of courtesy.


    Razorscale kept his feet. Several thuds sounded behind him. The human who¡¯d been standing stayed that way, though leaning against the wall, eyes wide in the darkness. The other one was breathing a steady string of swear words.


    One more charm, and the pair of them were immobilized by glowing blue bands. Razorscale held up the active charm, letting them see the matching blue lines that ran up his arm to disappear into his sleeve. The whole box was lit with the powerful blue light.


    ¡°Don¡¯t make me repeat myself again,¡± he said. ¡°Whose magic is it?¡±


    They told him before the box stopped moving.


    * * * * *


    A dryad spoke through the bars. ¡°We trust your business is concluded?¡±


    Now that the box had reverted to a cage, it was clear that the group had been ferried to the farthest edge of the dryads¡¯ forest. The four youths with the mistletoe hair awaited Razorscale¡¯s response.


    ¡°As much as it can be with these lowlifes,¡± he said, glaring at the humans. They were groveling while the rest of the group let Razorscale handle it.


    ¡°Please don¡¯t leave us like this,¡± pleaded the more reasonable of the two, trying to scrub garish colors from his skin. ¡°We didn¡¯t know. We thought it was a personal squabble between Dergaw and somebody he used to date.¡±


    Razorscale looked over his shoulder. ¡°Any of you ever date a human?¡± At the expected round of vigorous no¡¯s, he glared at the culprit. ¡°Be grateful. I might still decide to eat you after all.¡±


    The human subsided, though the other complained. Apparently the humiliation charm had produced colors that were just as distasteful to his sensibilities as to Razorscale¡¯s own. Good. They both looked like they were afflicted with some magical disease that had left them in shades of purple-to-orange, with concentric circles of pink and green. The sickly white around the eyes and mouth was a nice touch.


    ¡°Seriously, how long does this last?¡± the panicky human asked.


    ¡°Find me at next year¡¯s festival,¡± Razorscale told him. ¡°We¡¯ll see if I feel charitable or hungry.¡± With that he stepped away and waved a hand, a gesture that the dryads interpreted correctly. The box reformed around the two cursed humans, and ferried them away. Razorscale assumed that they would be reunited with their cart and left at the side of the forest that they had entered from, but he didn¡¯t bother to ask.


    When the containment fell away, a setting sun lit the forest¡¯s edge in harsh light. Much time had been wasted. This seemed to occur to the others at the same time, as they all squinted and winced.


    ¡°I¡¯ll never make it back to the herd tonight,¡± the centaur moaned. ¡°And I¡¯m not even the right shape yet!¡±


    The minotaur and pixie voiced similar complaints about the delay to their travel plans. The harpy just looked into the sunset.


    ¡°We will transport you to rejoin your companions,¡± offered one of the two dryads who remained, but Razorscale interrupted her.


    ¡°No point,¡± he said. ¡°If we want to reverse this spell, all five of us will need to be present. I read that much of it before the casting dissipated. Five donors, five recipients. We need to track these egg-eaters down now.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t we go back for supplies?¡± the centaur demanded. ¡°And friends?¡±


    ¡°Waste of time,¡± Razorscale said. ¡°The man who gave those fools the casting token will be expecting them back soon for their final payment. He may flee if he suspects pursuit.¡±


    ¡°And how are we supposed to get there in a hurry?¡± the centaur insisted, leaning around the pixie. ¡°Those guys said he¡¯s in a human city. That¡¯s not close. It will hardly make a difference if we take a few minutes to go back.¡±


    The minotaur spoke up with some hesitation. ¡°Are you thinking we¡¯ll walk all night? I don¡¯t think I¡¯m up for that.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± Razorscale snapped. ¡°I¡¯ll go alone to meet their contact, then come back for the rest of you. Just stay together.¡±


    ¡°How are you going to¡ª?¡±


    Razorscale held out a hand, palm up. ¡°My carpet, please.¡±


    The centaur moaned about it, but got off to stand on wobbly feet with the minotaur¡¯s assistance. The pixie hopped down too. Razorscale said the command word, and the carpet came to him like a tame pet.


    ¡°Wait, are we supposed to stay right here?¡± the centaur asked.


    A dryad broke in. ¡°Camping in the forest is not permitted, though you are welcome to overnight in the grasslands, as long as you do not set any fires.¡±


    Renewed complaining had Razorscale baring his teeth again. An unexpected voice spoke up.


    ¡°Just come to my place,¡± said the harpy. ¡°It¡¯s right over the hill. There¡¯ll be space for you to sleep somewhere, and he can find us when he gets back.¡±


    ¡°What about our friends?¡± the centaur asked.


    The dryad said, ¡°We will relay the message for you that all parties should convene at the harpy village. You may begin your journey now. Farewell! We bid you good luck on your endeavors, and hope to see you next year.¡±


    Before anyone could reply to that, the two dryads merged with nearby trees, leaving their mistletoe puffs on branches as the only sign that they had been there.


    ¡°Fine,¡± Razorscale said. ¡°Yes, good; done. I will meet you at the village. Do not stray from it.¡± With that, he settled onto the flying carpet and urged it toward the sky.


    Behind him, one human shape limped along with help from two others, guided by a third.


    Ahead of him, a true human had no idea what was coming.


    Razorscale showed his teeth to the wind, and imagined he was flying.

 Chapter 3

    The Beak That Pierces Brains looked wistfully up at the sky as she walked on talon-less feet, as groundbound as the rawest hatchling. The should-be-a-dragon was long gone. Now the figures in the sky were familiar ones: her friends and associates heading home late from the festival without her. They carried only the smallest amounts of trade goods, since they¡¯d sold most of the mortar this year. Beak had mined a lot of that from the cliffs herself, mixed some of it, and been an instrumental part in selling it to their regulars. Now she was left to walk while the rest of them flew through the darkening skies.


    They weren¡¯t the only ones above, she noticed. A cloud of darting lights that could only be pixies was ahead of them, and a small silver dragon followed the harpies at a respectful distance.


    Pixies, she thought, Have no respect for anyone. I don¡¯t envy whoever has to deal with them before the full explanation arrives. She cheered herself slightly by imagining the chaos that several dozen curious pixies could wreak on people who were not her. The door to her own house would probably be closed at this time of day, with her sisters preparing dinner. They would know better than to open it to tiny excitable voices.


    It was possible that Beak¡¯s opinion of the species was colored by an earlier interaction with the should-be-a-pixie, who had been making an effort to learn everyone¡¯s names. He was, it turned out, one of those featherless types who couldn¡¯t resist pointing out the obvious when presented with Beak¡¯s full name.


    ¡°Harpies don¡¯t have beaks,¡± he¡¯d said, blinking.


    Beak spread her arms and glared at the sky ¡ª a gesture that lacked impact without her feathered wings ¡ª and she tried not to sound too infuriated when she replied. ¡°It¡¯s a metaphorical beak!¡±


    ¡°A what?¡±


    Beak had refused to explain it to him, stomping off to walk behind the dragon. The other two could explain harpy naming customs to him if they cared to. She wasn¡¯t in the mood.


    Just now, a voice was complaining behind her. She didn¡¯t need to look to know it was the should-be-a-centaur, who still hadn¡¯t figured out how to put one foot in front of the other reliably. Useless lump, that one. At least the other two unfortunate souls were being her training wings while she learned something that hatchlings picked up right away. Beak was groundbound, but at least she wasn¡¯t that bad.


    Her eyesight was a little worse, though, and all the complaining had her convinced that her sense of smell was missing things now too. She hoped that the dragon would terrify a counterspell out of somebody quickly. He seemed more than up to the task. The Beak That Pierces Brains had watched him work with approval earlier, while the two-who-should-have-hooves had just looked afraid. Beak was pretty sure the pixie hadn¡¯t understood half of the conversation. All the brains of a puffweed, and twice as flighty.


    Speaking of flight, Beak thought with another glance at the sky, Looks like they should have time to net the pixies and give them something shiny to stare at before I arrive. Ah, this is going to be awkward.


    She plodded along the dirt road, discovering just how much dust rose from it, and she couldn¡¯t decide whether the walking process or the end of the trip would be worse.


    When she drew near enough to the village that she could make out details of the stone buildings despite the failing light, she looked back at the distance she¡¯d walked. The forest wasn¡¯t visible past the hills, but she could see where the path branched into the north/south route used by various wingless nobodies. Normally a harpy wouldn¡¯t be caught anywhere near that road.


    Oh, but this was humorous: the line of centaurs was parading along the road with their carts in tow, trying to look regal, while the minotaurs were winning a race that only they were participating in. The biggest one towed their single cart across the grasslands, bumping wildly along with singleminded fierceness that the others shared as they ran. The centaurs were ignoring them.


    Beak laughed. Leave it to a bull minotaur to refuse to be the last to arrive.


    It was enough to make her want to pick up the pace a bit, just on principle. She pulled ahead of the others, wondering if she would be able to get home without too much attention.


    Not likely. As she neared, she spotted the silver dragon politely waiting at the edge of the village, several paces away from a flock of her kin. Several pixies flitted about like errant sparks.


    Ah yes, now the crowd was coming forward to greet them. Beak braced herself. None of the people heading for her had been at the festival, and they all had a lot to say.


    ¡°Good, you made it before dark!¡±


    ¡°Will you all need food, or just someplace to sleep?¡±


    ¡°Which one of you¡¯s the harpy?¡±


    ¡°Uh, me.¡± Beak raised a wrist, unconsciously held in wing position. ¡°Obviously.¡± Sure it was getting dark, but the others all had the wrong skin color. Slightly too dark, much too dark, and golden tan. Plus none of them had a proud harpy nose.


    ¡°Right, yes, of course,¡± said the old uncle in front. ¡°I¡¯m sure you can find your way home, then. We¡¯ll get these others set up in the town hall.¡±


    ¡°Sounds great,¡± Beak said, pushing through the crowd. ¡°Have fun with that.¡±


    The villagers were chattering, the shouldn¡¯t-be-humans were adding to the noise, pixies flew everywhere ruining people¡¯s night vision, and the minotaurs were thundering closer.


    Beak ignored every question and went home, weaving between the stonework whose mortar she had helped make. The chaos could handle itself without her. It was late, she was tired, and she¡¯d had a terrible day. Hopefully there was some dinner left. And family who had been informed of her predicament.


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    This last occurred to her as she stood outside her front door, lifting a human foot to grasp the latch. She had to bend down and awkwardly do it with a hand instead.


    The door opened to a familiar, localized chaos. ¡°I¡¯m home,¡± Beak said over the sound of her two sisters feeding a half dozen hatchlings.


    The Wings That Fan Hurricanes came to greet her first, with a demeanor that thankfully ¡ªthankfully! ¡ª said that she¡¯d known what to expect. Beak caught a glimpse of her own bag of festival supplies by the table, which someone had clearly brought back. Good. The belongings were here, and the family was up to speed.


    ¡°Home and freaky-looking,¡± Wing said bluntly, spreading brown wings in welcome. ¡°Come sit down. Those weird feet probably hurt after the walk.¡±


    Beak sighed. ¡°So much.¡± She let herself be herded toward the low circular table like an errant fledgeling, corralled by her sister¡¯s wing.


    The hatchlings sent up a ruckus of pre-verbal squeaks and chirrups. Who was this weirdo, and what was she doing joining them for dinner? They were small, wobbly-necked, and had barely any feathers, but their opinions were strong.


    ¡°Shove over,¡± Beak said as she gently made space between two of them, opposite the table from The Talons That Ensnare The Slipperiest Fish. Talon was busy keeping her brood from choking on dinner, but she spared Beak a sympathetic look.


    ¡°Hard day,¡± she observed.


    ¡°Hard day,¡± Beak agreed.


    ¡°Need someone to feed you like the littles?¡±


    ¡°No thank you,¡± Beak said. ¡°My feet are useless, but I have more fingers now. Might as well use them.¡± She scooped up a bite of fish from the communal plate, managing to coordinate all the fingers reasonably well. ¡°Too many fingers if you ask me,¡± she added.


    ¡°But no wings,¡± said Wing, sitting down between two other scraggly youngsters.


    Beak bit into the fish harder than necessary. ¡°Yes, thank you; I hadn¡¯t noticed.¡±


    ¡°They said somebody¡¯s going to fix it soon though, right?¡±


    ¡°Theoretically.¡± She swallowed the mouthful. ¡°All we can do is wait. With stupid feet and no wings.¡±


    ¡°Wanna talk names to take your mind off it?¡± Talon asked. ¡°I have some new ideas, but Wing says they¡¯re squid-brained.¡±


    Beak smiled. ¡°Let¡¯s hear these squid-brained names.¡± The hatchlings, already bored with the human shape in their midst, squabbled over the remaining pieces of fish. If they realized that the adults were discussing the names they would be stuck with, they didn¡¯t show it.


    As the sister with the regrettably common name, The Talons That Ensnare The Slipperiest Fish was dead set on giving her offspring more unique names.


    ¡°What about The Horn That Impales The Sun?¡±


    ¡°No metaphors,¡± Beak declared. ¡°Trust me on that one. Every outsider they meet will say ¡®Oh, but harpies don¡¯t have horns. Is that a unicorn name?¡¯¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s not about a real horn at all!¡± Talon said. ¡°Surely they¡¯d know that. It¡¯s about an indomitable spirit.¡±


    ¡°They would not know that,¡± Beak said, grabbing another chunk of fish. ¡°Just ask the idiot pixie I walked in with.¡±


    ¡°Oh, pixies are all idiots.¡± Talon tossed her head. ¡°I meant other people.¡±


    Wing speared a bite on a wing-talon, looking more than a little smug. ¡°How long did it take to explain your name to this pixie?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I didn¡¯t even try!¡± Beak said. ¡°I wasn¡¯t about to trouble him with grownup ideas like ¡®piercing wit.¡¯ It might make his brain overheat.¡±


    ¡°And we don¡¯t want that!¡± Wing said with a laugh. ¡°Though that would be a great fact to present Mom with: ¡®Hey, remember your terrible naming skills? They toasted a pixie. I hope you¡¯re proud.¡¯¡±


    ¡°She probably would be,¡± Beak mumbled around her food.


    ¡°But okay, no metaphors,¡± Wing said, turning back to Talon. ¡°I¡¯ll second that recommendation. Might I also suggest the obvious: nothing easily turned into jokes about bodily functions?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Wing.¡± Talon rolled her eyes. ¡°I know.¡±


    The Wings That Fan Hurricanes had never gotten over the childhood teasing about cloaca-wind. It was a weak joke, but the other fledgelings had gotten a lot of mileage out of it. Beak took a turn smirking now, happy with her own troublesome name.


    The three of them talked through the rest of dinner, then cleaned up and got the hatchlings settled into the nesting hollow in the lower portion of the main room. Talon settled down with them, telling quiet stories to her children amid cushions and blankets. Wing turned down the lights while Beak checked her festival bag to make sure nothing was missing. The two sisters sat down to talk in murmurs.


    ¡°Do you still want the next turn hatching eggs?¡± Wing asked, mischief in her eyes. ¡°Hopefully you¡¯ll be up for it by then. I hear humans have a horrendous time reproducing.¡±


    ¡°Ugh, don¡¯t even joke about that,¡± Beak said. ¡°This had better be cleared up soon.¡±


    ¡°I should hope so! You¡¯d probably have to go to one of the far villages to find a mate who¡¯s hot for featherless ones.¡±


    ¡°I said quit it.¡± Beak nudged her sister with a wrist, irritated anew with the way it didn¡¯t hit right. ¡°Everything about this bites downy fluff.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m sure it does.¡± Wing stood up. ¡°I¡¯m going to check on the hubbub outside, see if there¡¯s any new developments.¡±


    ¡°Knock yourself out,¡± Beak said. ¡°You¡¯ll want to go to the town hall, by the sound of it. I¡¯m going to try to sleep.¡±


    ¡°Have fun,¡± Wing said. ¡°Dream of disturbing human things.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d rather not, thanks.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome!¡±


    Wing left, and Beak was alone with her thoughts. She took the bag to her room, stepping softly past the nesting hollow. The hatchlings were almost asleep, though two still kicked absently.


    Beak got ready as best she could. She¡¯d planned to take off the ugly human clothes, but found that the air was uncomfortably cool without them, so she left them on. Except for the shoes; those were loose enough that she was certain they¡¯d fall of by themselves while she slept.


    If she slept. Her nest was distinctly uncomfortable now. Human bodies were fully capable of curling up into a proper harpy sleeping position, but not for long. Everything hurt. Beak grumbled to herself and straightened out, head and legs lolling out of the nest.


    This is stupid, she thought, rearranging pillows. I could be asleep now, after a normal trip home ¡­ a flight home! I miss flying so bad. She dwelled upon it, feeling the ache like a lost limb. In a way, she had lost two. Really they¡¯d turned into arms instead, but those wouldn¡¯t let her fly.


    Maybe there¡¯s a way I could, she thought. Everybody knows about the auntie a few towns north who made herself a wing replacement after the injury. What did she use?


    Beak¡¯s thoughts went interesting places before Wing returned home, and tapped on her door with an update.


    ¡°They¡¯re all sleeping in the town hall,¡± Wing said. ¡°Except the centaurs, who apparently had to get home on a timeline. Something about the money they made at the festival. They left their human in the care of the minotaurs, which is hilarious to see; so tiny. The room is glowing with pixies on every flat surface. I can¡¯t imagine how anybody¡¯s getting sleep with that going on.¡±


    ¡°Sounds terrible,¡± Beak said, shifting position again.


    ¡°Glad to be in your own nest?¡±


    ¡°I would be, if it was actually comfortable.¡± She sat up. ¡°Hey, do we still have those gardening supplies in the shed?¡±


    ¡°Still there. Why?¡±


    Beak pulled her shoes back on. ¡°I might as well do something productive while I can¡¯t sleep.¡±


    ¡°Have at it,¡± Wing said. ¡°Wake me if you need proper feet.¡±


    ¡°Will do.¡±


    Wing went off to her own room, leaving the house silent. Beak crept past the nesting hollow again, and out to the storage shed.


    There she found wooden poles, tarp, and enough miscellaneous supplies to follow through on a very bad idea.

 Chapter 4

    Twig woke to the unpleasant realization that sleeping could be painful at human size. Hard surfaces had never bothered him this much before. But then, he¡¯d never had to deal with a gigantic amount of weight pressing down. His right hip felt bruised like he¡¯d flown into a wall, and his neck ached where it had rested at an awkward angle. Apparently the scattered pillows and thin blanket weren¡¯t enough for a proper bed. Who knew?


    He sat up with a groan that he hadn¡¯t planned on making (how embarrassing), and found that most of the pixies on the pillows around him were still asleep. Golden sunlight was just starting to filter through the windows of this giant stone building, and it wasn¡¯t shining in anyone¡¯s eyes yet. They all looked very comfortable. And so did the silver dragon, curled up in the corner of the room.


    The minotaurs in the center were starting to stir, untangling from a complex pile of limbs that seemed cozy to Twig. It probably would have been a trickier thing to arrange if any of them had had long horns instead of small-to-medium nubbins. The two human shapes in the middle hadn¡¯t gotten squashed though, so it all worked out. Even if the former centaur still looked distressed by the lack of a horse body behind her. She rolled over and visibly twitched.


    A light knock on the door was followed immediately by someone kicking their way inside with harpy feet. Twig sat up straight to see a procession of wings, clawed feet, and tubs that smelled like food.


    ¡°Good morning!¡± announced the first harpy.


    Every pixie not already in the air zipped upward now. Twig flexed wing muscles he didn¡¯t have in an effort to join them.


    ¡°I understand you lot are mostly interested in plants, so we did what we could,¡± the harpy continued, setting down her wooden tub on the table by the far wall. ¡°We¡¯ve got plates here somewhere. Or small bowls. Feather, do you have the bowls?¡±


    Twig got his feet under him, amazed at how difficult it was to stand when he couldn¡¯t just lift himself into the air. He could walk well enough, though slowly, and he joined the crowd at the table well after the other pixies. An exciting spread of food greeted him.


    Peas, blackberries, bread, nuts ¡ª all normal things, but they were tiny to him now. He plucked a single pea from the nearest bowl and marveled at it while harpies bustled past. To think, he could eat the whole thing and hardly notice!


    He crushed it between his teeth, and found it to taste like no pea he¡¯d ever eaten. He wondered if his taste buds were different. Then the blackberries caught his eye ¡ª what would it be like to eat them without separating the globes? And bread! What was bread like as a big person?


    Bread was soft. Even the hard crust was chewy, and it all of it was delicious. Twig found a plate and did his singleminded best to gather a sampling of all the tastiest things. There was fish at the end of the table, but he left that alone; it was clearly for the dragon (politely waiting for a turn). And Twig had never liked the smell of fish anyway. It was nothing like these berries!


    He returned to the pillows, where he took his time eating. Other pixies finished quickly and some flew over to join him, full of questions.


    ¡°Are the walnuts as soft as they say?¡± someone asked. Twig didn¡¯t look up to see who.


    ¡°Yeah!¡± he said, mouth full. ¡°You don¡¯t have to cut a slice off at this size; they¡¯re easy to chew! And I can eat the whole blackberries ¡ª seeds, core, everything. They taste a little tangier, I think?¡±


    He gathered quite an audience while he ate, narrating as he went. It was only when he¡¯d finished the last crumb of bread that the pixies dispersed for morning cleaning.


    Twig returned his plate to the table, then realized with a jolt that he didn¡¯t need to clean up after himself.


    I mean, I should fold the blanket and move the pillows, he thought, gazing out at the room. But I didn¡¯t shed any pixie dust on them. I don¡¯t need to brush them off.


    All around the room, while the other big people chatted in the center, the colorful lights of his kinfolk flitted between their sleeping places, the water pitcher, and the door. There were no dustbrushes to be found in a harpy building (no surprise), so they were making do with cloth napkins and bare hands. The smaller pillows could be carried outside by teams of four, and smacked around until they shed any significant deposits. The bigger ones had to be scrubbed. Twig could see one fluffy-looking affair that had held a good half dozen pixies; the tassels were visibly drifting upwards, and would need extra attention.


    But Twig wouldn¡¯t have to do any of it.


    Well, I could, he thought. Team effort and all that. The more involved, the faster done. But none of the dust is mine. He slowly sank back against the table. And I don¡¯t want to get in anybody¡¯s way. They have it under control, I guess.


    He watched in silence while all traces of shed pixie dust were dampened and sprinkled into the dirt outside. It was a quick cleanup, despite the lack of proper brushes. There wasn¡¯t enough to be worth collecting.


    The last group to carry a pillow outside returned full of excitement; they dropped it and called for everyone to join them. Something interesting was happening.


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    Twig realized that he did hear more voices outside than before. He pushed off the table and joined his kinfolk in funneling out the door. The minotaurs and others were close behind.


    Bright sunshine made him blink, reflecting off the pale stones and paler mortar that made up the village. The thatched roofs were dark. The feathers of the inhabitants sported a range of speckled brown-to-white colorings. A whole flock of them were currently parading down the dirt road with their hopping birdlike stride, in the wake of something weird and triangular.


    Twig blinked, and tried to get a better view. The other pixies were already high in the air; he realized that he¡¯d been left behind with the big folk, who were also following the crowd. Twig hurried to get ahead of them. He couldn¡¯t keep up with his own people, but he could at least get close.


    The minotaurs, naturally, took this as a challenge, and stampeded gleefully after him, including the human one. The biggest was carrying the former centaur like a child. It would have struck Twig as funny if not for his urgent concern that he might get trampled.


    He pressed up against a rough stone wall and let them thunder past. The young dragon trotted up to wait silently for him. Twig caught his breath, gave the dragon a nod in thanks, then broke into a jog.


    Wow, running got tiresome fast. He was starting to really miss flying.


    And, when he finally reached the crowd at the edge of the village, he realized that he wasn¡¯t the only one.


    This was the village edge in a literal sense: the biggest houses were lined up along an abrupt cliff, with a grand view of the sea. The open space at the end of this road appeared to be a popular harpy launching-off spot. Today it was going to launch something else.


    Twig flagged down a couple of pixies. ¡°That¡¯s our human, right? The harpy one?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± said one.


    ¡°And she¡¯s made herself some wings!¡± said the other.


    ¡°How smart of her!¡± Twig exclaimed. ¡°I wonder if she can make me some too. Is there a spot I can get a better look?¡±


    The pixies zipped upward and then back, guiding him off to the side where there was apparently a good viewing space. The minotaurs stayed where they were, muttering with some concern.


    Before he left earshot, Twig heard, ¡°Is that safe?¡±


    The reply was, ¡°I don¡¯t know enough about flight to say. But it looks heavy.¡±


    Then Twig was caught up in a crowd of chattery young harpies with the dragon pushing past him, and the pixies¡¯ directions were hard to pick out. But he made it to the front of the flock before launch.


    Just barely, though.


    He caught a glimpse of the wing-shaped structure covered in brown tarp, and the human legs running toward the cliff.


    The feathered crowd wished her luck. The pixies above cheered. Twig clapped along, hoping it worked well enough for her to duplicate when she landed.


    She leapt into the wind¡¯s embrace, and dropped like a rock.


    The dragon hissed something that sounded like a curse and dove after her.


    ¡°What¡¯s their problem?¡± a harpy asked. The crowd shuffled forward as a whole, unconcerned, though Twig was starting to wonder. Shouldn¡¯t the pair of them have risen back into view by now?


    He reached the cliff edge (reminding himself that he didn¡¯t have wings, and really shouldn¡¯t fall off), and he looked down. It was quite a ways.


    The flapping tarp was still falling, only holding onto the frame by one corner, but the dragon had grabbed on to the leading edge. As Twig watched, the young dragon¡¯s efforts turned a freefall into a steep dive, angling away from the rocks and out toward the deeper sea. But they couldn¡¯t lift that much weight completely. The pair were still heading for the water, just at an angle.


    Twig thought he heard the dragon¡¯s voice on the breeze, shouting about undoing buckles. Then the frame cracked in half and the whole mess crashed into the waves, with the dragon folding their wings just before impact.


    At the distant splash, the harpy villagers laughed and cheered, clearly unconcerned. They joked about fledgelings that needed more time in the nest. They laughed about the ¡°bath of shame¡± in the sea, and the bedraggled hike back up to town. Pixies flitted everywhere laughing.


    In the center of this merriment, the minotaurs and their one human stood stock still, their expressions a matching set of dire concern.


    Twig had only been a big person for a single day, but he agreed with them. That had been a big splash. The human-harpy, the dragon, and the wooden frame would all be very heavy. Had she gotten those buckles unfastened in time?


    He looked out to sea, anxious. The water roiled. A portion of tarp drifted upward.


    Then the silver dragon exploded onto the surface, clutching a struggling human and shouting as soon as there was air to do so.


    ¡°YOU IDIOT!¡± the distant voice said. ¡°YOU ALMOST DIED, AND THEN WHERE WOULD WE BE? WHAT IF WE CAN¡¯T BREAK THE SPELL WITH ONLY FOUR?¡±


    Ah, Twig thought as he breathed a sigh of relief. Dragon priorities.


    The other snatches of conversation that carried on the wind had to do with the hypothetical reaction of the senior dragon, and the competing idea that the rig had nearly worked; it just needed a few more nails.


    ¡°More nails,¡± laughed a minotaur. ¡°How about more brains, and maybe a trial run or two?¡±


    ¡°Or ten!¡± agreed another.


    ¡°What¡¯s that boat?¡± asked their human, pointing.


    When Twig looked, he saw a narrow craft being paddled toward the pair in the water. It was hard to get a sense of size from here, especially with the dragon and human mostly submerged (being held up by the dragon¡¯s wings flapping slowly underwater), but the people looked big. Unsettlingly big. Dark and furry? Wearing furs? Were those helmets or extra-big heads? Twig squinted.


    The casual way that a nearby harpy announced, ¡°Hey, the orcs are back!¡± only made Twig slightly less concerned. That boat looked like it was made of skin stretched over rib bones.


    ¡°Oh good!¡± someone else replied. ¡°Pity they just missed the fair. Oh well, first pick for us.¡±


    Twig let that half-a-piece of information drift past him as he watched the disturbingly large people in the boat pluck the dragon and human out of the sea, with all the ease of farmers freeing a pair of sheep from a mud puddle.


    One of Twig¡¯s cousins hovered next to his ear. ¡°Too bad the wings didn¡¯t work,¡± she said. ¡°I wonder if that dragon has a flight charm she can use? They were selling charms at the fair.¡±


    Twig shook his head slowly. ¡°I think all the fair supplies were already sent home. And the elder took that bag of tricks with him.¡±


    ¡°Oh well.¡± The pixie shrugged.


    ¡°But wait!¡± Twig had a brilliant idea. ¡°We can help! Hey, everybody,¡± he addressed his kinfolk. ¡°Let¡¯s help the harpy-human! Can you fly home and get some of the spare dust? I know there¡¯s extra waiting to be fertilizer for the skyfruits; I¡¯m sure they can spare some that¡¯s almost expired, maybe fresher.¡±


    ¡°Great idea!¡± his cousin agreed. ¡°Yeah, let¡¯s do it! C¡¯mon, everybody! Whoever wants to come; some of you stay to tell the rest of us about those orcs, okay?¡±


    The colorful swirling cloud parted ways in delight, with half arrowing off toward home and half spreading out to observe.


    Twig stood taller, feeling a complicated mix of pride at being able to help, sorrow at being left behind, and apprehension about the hulking figures in the boat that he had never encountered before.

 Chapter 5

    It would be a while before the rest of the orcs arrived, following the scout ship that had rescued the idiot harpy, and Stomp hoped that she¡¯d be able to take a break at the grindstone then. Her arms were getting tired.


    The minotaur in human form leaned in harder, scrubbing one rock against another to pulverize a third. It was easy enough, since the white pebbles were softer than the gray stones, but she¡¯d been at it for longer than her human arms were up for. When this latest handful was rendered to fine sand, she gratefully set down the oval-shaped grindstone. She reached for the tiny broom to sweep the powder into a bucket, but found that Windmane was using it.


    ¡°This dust sure gets everywhere,¡± the human-shaped centaur said. She brushed her own grinding plate clean before passing over the broom. ¡°It¡¯s probably easier for the harpies to manage, with their scaly bird feet.¡±


    Stomp shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know; it probably gets stuck between their scales too.¡±


    Windmane clapped white dust off her light brown hands. ¡°I guess. Can¡¯t imagine doing this with my feet.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all in what you¡¯re used to,¡± Stomp said with as much confidence as she could muster. It was only by focusing on the task in front of her that she could ignore the way her field of vision had shrunk. There was nothing behind her that she needed to see right now. It would be okay. This was a safe workroom, with a few of the harpy locals coming and going to oversee the repayment of their hospitality. Grinding rocks was tiresome, but not dangerous.


    ¡°I¡¯m out of pebbles,¡± Windmane said. ¡°Think they¡¯ll bring us more, or are we done?¡±


    Stomp glanced down at the small amount of tiny rocks left to grind. ¡°I¡¯ll ask,¡± she volunteered. A look around the room ¡ª turning her body as much as her head ¡ª showed that none of the harpies were present. Well, nothing for it. Walking around with partial vision was unpleasant, but easier than getting Windmane moving on two feet. Stomp got up, brushing the dust off her own dark brown hands, and she made her careful way to the door.


    She could hear the ongoing crack of rocks outside even before she reached the foot-level latch. When the door swung open, it was clear that there was plenty more work to do.


    Under the direct supervision of what passed for a muscular harpy, the rest of Stomp¡¯s herd were taking turns with a pair of rock-crushing stations. While the indoor work was a detailed affair, this was suited to brute strength. The harpies hadn¡¯t allowed any objections about who would be doing which task.


    Right now, Bellow was making a show of it with the biggest stone, smashing it into a pile of rubble in the shallow depression in the ground. Bags of rocks waited to the side, freshly mined from the cliffs. This spot had clearly been used for generations. The harpy looked concerned that Bellow might crack the bedrock.


    ¡°Hold it lower,¡± the harpy said in the tone of someone repeating himself. ¡°Making chips fly is wasteful and dangerous.¡±


    Stomp watched the bull humor him with a grin, lowering the stone but still hitting just as hard. Her horn caps shone in the sunlight ¡ª short but well-formed ¡ª and she made a magnificent sight. Stomp was proud to be part of her herd.


    Though as she approached, and the new size difference became more obvious, pride gave place to worry. What did Bellow need her for, cursed as she was now, with four other proper minotaurs at her side?


    Stomp said nothing of this, merely smiling with her human mouth as she approached. ¡°How¡¯s it going out here?¡±


    The harpy overseer started to answer, but Bellow spoke over him.


    ¡°Great!¡± the bull said, stopping to pose. At the other station, Trample stopped as well. ¡°This is a fine way to repay our hosts,¡± Bellow said. ¡°Much better than messing with fish or cleaning.¡±


    Stomp nodded, thinking of the tasks that the young dragon and the remaining pixies had been assigned. Neither sounded appealing to her. She wondered briefly what the harpy of the group was doing, then remembered that she lived here, and would be at home with a dry set of clothes.


    Dry clothes, and a tarnished ego, Stomp thought. I¡¯m not surprised she left that broken rig in the sea. The walk up was probably embarrassing enough without it.


    Stomp spent a moment arguing with herself when she realized first that the harpy might not have dry clothes available, since none of the village wore more than their own feathers, then she realized second that the only extra clothes around were in the minotaur¡¯s own cart.


    But they won¡¯t fit her at ALL, Stomp told herself, And I¡¯m certainly not giving up my festival gear just because someone was idiot enough to jump in the sea. She can wait for her own clothes to dry out. Or make something with a blanket. She¡¯ll be fine.


    Stomp returned her attention to the conversation around her, and found that Bellow was questioning the big harpy about the mortar-making process.


    ¡°So is there magic involved? You can tell me; we won¡¯t share your secret.¡±


    ¡°There is not,¡± the harpy said drily.


    ¡°What do you do, mix the crushed rock with something mysterious to make it harden?¡±


    ¡°Water.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± Bellow pressed, smiling. ¡°You¡¯re sure this rock isn¡¯t magical?¡±


    ¡°You have to cook it first,¡± the harpy explained. ¡°Add sand and other ingredients for the different varieties.¡±


    ¡°Aha, I knew there was something mysterious!¡±


    ¡°Which is mysterious to you: sand or fire?¡±


    Bellow was already off on a tangent, to the clear entertainment of everyone but the harpy. ¡°Hey, if you need fire, we should get that dragon involved. Surely dragonfire can cook this stuff faster and better.¡±


    ¡°No thank you,¡± the harpy said. ¡°We have a kiln. Now if you please, there are a few more bags to crush.¡±


    ¡°Afraid the dragonfire might show you up? That¡¯s okay. Maybe we can ask the kid to help with fishing instead. Or maybe a dragon would be better at spear-fishing too?¡± Bellow put a hand to her chest. ¡°I¡¯m already showing up your strongest rock-crushers; this is shaping up to be an embarrassing day for your village.¡±


    The harpy crooked his wings and angled his head forward in irritation. ¡°Are you quite done?¡± he asked. One clawed foot pointed toward the bags.


    Bellow was still chuckling while she hefted the crushing rock, with Stomp and the others smiling indulgently, when someone out of sight called, ¡°The orcs are here!¡±


    ¡°Finally,¡± the harpy said. ¡°That¡¯s enough for now. Off with you.¡± He made shooing motions with his foot.


    Bellow didn¡¯t need to be told twice. She tossed the crushing rock onto the pile and headed in the direction of the shout, giving directions for Throwfast and Carve to bring the centaur along.


    Stomp hurried after Bellow on her short human legs. While Stare and Trample waited for her, the bull was clearly preoccupied. Stomp couldn¡¯t blame her, but it didn¡¯t do much for her peace of mind.


    Harpies were flocking toward the far edge of the village. Pixies darted after them. It wasn¡¯t hard to figure out where the orcs would be, especially when deep voices drifted on the breeze. Stomp was grateful that the harpies were so short, since even when she stopped behind a crowd of them, she could see over every head. Bellow and the others stood beside her, with the centaur arriving soon, and they all watched the procession that was making its way up the trail from the sea.


    The orcs were large, taller than the minotaurs (though barely), wearing brightly colored clothes over their black-and-white hides. White patches covered their eyes and throats, highlighting jaws as wide as the sky. When they opened those jaws, baring rows of triangular teeth, Stomp felt like she was watching their entire heads crack in half. But they did it so cheerfully.


    They were singing as they walked. Stamping in time, swinging the baskets and crates that they carried. It was a song that Stomp had never heard before.


    You want more oars than enemies


    Or you¡¯re going home riding on the float.


    Fight the sea and not your team


    Or you¡¯re going home riding on the float.


    But if they hit first then hit back twice


    Or you¡¯re going home riding on the float.


    No oars, no spear, no honor left


    You¡¯re going home riding on the float.


    Cold and wet, a laughingstock


    You¡¯re going home riding on the float.


    They reached the top of the trail and greeted the harpy elders with much laughter and pleasantries, while Stomp wondered what float they were singing about. Then she caught sight of the boats that were beached down on the shore, and it made sense. Most of them were two-parters: one place to sit and paddle, with poles out to the side attached to a stabilizing float. The biggest boats had flat decks balanced over two hulls, while the smallest were the maneuverable ribs-and-leviathan-leather canoes like the scout ship. A strange collection, to be sure.


    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    Bellow was grinding her hooves into the dirt, clearly trying not to make a scene. Stomp put a hand on her arm in comfort, privately mourning its tiny size while Trample and Stare offered similar reassurances. Their bull need not feel threatened by these enormous newcomers. The herd knew who they followed.


    And there was the rest of the herd, carrying Windmane like the helpless thing she was. They joined the huddle, with the human-centaur swept up in the hug.


    Windmane whispered to Stomp, ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡±


    ¡°Herd unity.¡±


    ¡°Gotcha.¡± To her credit, the centaur didn¡¯t question it further. She just added her own tiny arms to the nearest muscular shoulder, and soon enough Bellow let out a deep breath to signal calm. Everyone eased back and watched the haggling in silence. Well, mostly silence.


    ¡°Wow, orcs are properly terrifying up close,¡± Windmane said from her perch in Throwfast¡¯s arms. ¡°They could bite somebody¡¯s head off.¡±


    Stomp flicked a glance up at Bellow. ¡°I think they¡¯d rather sing.¡±


    She proved to be more right than she knew, since as soon as the goods were traded ¡ª seal pelts for rare foods, which the harpies had likely bought at the festival specifically to trade now ¡ª the waiting crowd broke out into a celebration. At least three different songs wove through the air at once.


    A few of the orcs carried their haul back to the boats while the others joined the harpies in traipsing over to a large flat area outside the village. To Stomp¡¯s expert eyes, the bare dirt there looked like a fine dancing ground. She was glad to see Bellow lead the herd to join the festivities.


    Pixies swirled in the air above, making it all the more festive. Towering orcs chatted with the feathery little harpies like old friends, laughing and telling stories. Food and drink were appearing from somewhere; Stomp couldn¡¯t tell if they had come from the village or the boats or both. No dancing had started yet, but it was surely just a matter of time.


    Next to the dirt was a grassy area with oddly triangular rocks scattered about, which Stomp took for art until the first harpy jumped up on the highest point and made a show of balancing on one foot with wings furled. Another took a stance on a nearby rock, then a third brought out a pair of sticks padded with thick cloth, and Stomp started to get an idea of what was happening.


    The two competitors whacked at each other gleefully while onlookers cheered, and other pairs took up the challenge on different rocks. As soon as one fell, a new competitor scrambled up to challenge the winner.


    Stomp looked up at Bellow, who was watching everything, still tense. ¡°Want to give it a try?¡± Stomp asked, pitching the suggestion to pass as a joke if the bull wasn¡¯t interested.


    Bellow flicked an ear. ¡°I¡¯m not about to hurt someone¡¯s fragile bird bones.¡±


    A sudden deep-voiced cheer made Stomp whirl to see two orcs flip over a pair of the conical rocks and attempt to balance on the flat ends. They wobbled madly for a moment, then settled into position with impressive ease.


    Someone handed them paddles.


    ¡°Now I want to try it,¡± Bellow said over the sound of hearty whacks and laughter.


    At Stomp¡¯s encouragement, and the rest of the herd¡¯s approval, Bellow entered the field to find an unclaimed rock. She flipped it with ease. The balancing was a little less easy, but after a brief practice, the bull waved everyone back and called for an opponent.


    ¡°Who is great enough to take me on?¡± she shouted, arms spread. Stomp led the herd in applauding in advance.


    An orc laughed. ¡°All right, little cousin. Let¡¯s see what you¡¯ve got.¡± He gathered paddles from a bystander, and flipped over the opposing rock. Other orcs cheered them both on. He handed Bellow a paddle with a friendly grin showing too many teeth, then he took up his position.


    And knocked her off with the first swing.


    ¡°That was just a test!¡± Bellow exclaimed amid laughter, climbing back onto the rock.


    ¡°Of course it was,¡± the orc allowed. ¡°Ready!¡±


    He won the next round too, but not as easily, and she really made him work for the third. By the fourth, everyone was laughing, and other orcs wanted a try.


    ¡°I will take on all comers!¡± Bellow announced with a smile. ¡°No one will beat me at falling off rocks.¡±


    Stomp breathed easy on the sidelines, deeply happy at the sight of Bellow relaxed and joking. The herd as a whole had settled into enjoying the unexpected party; a harpy was passing around grain cakes that were good if a little fishy, along with some sweet drink. Even Windmane had a taste. She was still being carried. Stomp didn¡¯t know if that was her idea or Throwfast¡¯s.


    By the time Bellow was getting visibly tired, Stomp had an idea for how to give her an exit without losing face. A different drink was making the rounds, and it was absolutely vile. ¡°Bellow!¡± she called, ¡°You have to try this!¡±


    Bellow bowed out of further balance battles, and gratefully came over to try the offerings. Stomp made sure that the herd had some of each drink on hand, for comparison and entertainment. Trample grabbed a fresh cup of the better one and offered that first.


    ¡°You¡¯ll like this one,¡± Trample said.


    ¡°It¡¯s made from honey,¡± Stomp added.


    Bellow tried it. ¡°A little too sweet, but not bad.¡±


    ¡°This one,¡± Stomp said, holding a cup at arm¡¯s length, ¡°You have to try for a different reason.¡± Behind her, Carve and Stare snickered in anticipation.


    Bellow accepted the cup with a knowing look. ¡°I¡¯m going to like that other one more in a second, aren¡¯t I?¡±


    At Stomp¡¯s urging, she drank the whole cup of fermented fish squeezings or whatever it was, then coughed dramatically for the entertainment of the herd.


    ¡°Bluh! Gimme.¡± Another drink of the honey stuff led to different expressions and a long string of attempts to describe the unpleasantness. ¡°It¡¯s like the very soul of the ocean purged its hatred into that cup.¡±


    ¡°Like hoof fungus that wants to be a fish when it grows up,¡± Stomp agreed.


    ¡°Like someone tried to make lamp fuel out of a pile of mold, then left it outside for a year,¡± Stare contributed.


    ¡°Like a bad dream turned rancid,¡± Carve added.


    They continued on in this vein until the orcs laughingly took mock-offense at this vile slander, and the herd had to admit that it wasn¡¯t that bad, not really, not for something that had clearly been scraped off a rock and seasoned with mud that morning.


    The orcs broke out in a taunting song, which they all knew and the harpies recognized, and which was easy to pick up at the chorus. Pixies hummed wordlessly. Musical instruments appeared. Stomp was too delighted to wonder who had brought them. She opened her mouth to suggest that someone go get theirs, but Trample and Stare were already running for the cart.


    This they could do!


    And they did. The flutes and drums for performing were underneath the ones for selling, but the pair found them quickly enough and returned. Then the herd set about showing the assembled crowd just what kind of talent it took to perform at the Dryad Forest Festival.


    Stomp had an awful moment at first, when she realized that her human mouth didn¡¯t fit the minotaur flute, but she traded roles with Trample and played the hand drum instead. The song went off without a hitch, and got overwhelming applause.


    Not to be outdone, the assembled harpy musicians took a turn, using fascinating instruments that were new to Stomp. Each one was made for bird feet, and some had to be stabilized by wing-fingers. A minotaur couldn¡¯t hope to play any of them.


    But maybe a human could.


    ¡°Hey, these human toes can grab, right?¡± Stomp said to Windmane, who was standing but clinging to Throwfast¡¯s arm for balance. ¡°Do you think they¡¯d be able to hold that thing?¡± She pointed to a scrape-the-plate-across-the-ribs arrangement.


    Windmane grimaced. ¡°Not well.¡±


    ¡°I wanna try it.¡± Stomp fumbled with her boots and addressed the nearest harpy. ¡°Could I try that, please?¡±


    Windmane shook her head. ¡°You¡¯d better sit down when you do.¡±


    Stomp took the suggestion and did her best at the harpy instrument when it was laid out before her. The harpy explained how it worked ¡ª hold this, rub it along that, tap it here, angle it like that ¡ª then set a simple rhythm on another instrument.


    Stomp was terrible at it, but had fun nonetheless. Human toes, it turned out, were too small to hold much. Good entertainment though. She tried several other things before the dancing started, then she hurried to put her boots back on.


    And then Stomp did her level best to do her namesake proud, despite the temporary human form. The heavy boots helped.


    The rest of the herd stepped up to join her, and it turned into a whirlwind of camaraderie. Stomp could almost forget the worry about breaking the spell, and pretend that all was right with the world. And what¡¯s more, she could tell that her enthusiasm was helping the others enjoy the moment too. A fine thing.


    When she finally sat down next to Windmane for a break, she was smiling as wide as her human mouth would go.


    ¡°Nicely done,¡± Windmane said. ¡°Looks like a fun dance.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m named for,¡± Stomp said proudly.


    The centaur cocked her head. ¡°It is? I guess that counts as stomping.¡±


    Stomp laughed. ¡°What, you thought it was just the stepping loudly? What kind of name would that be?¡±


    Windmane threw her hands in the air. ¡°I don¡¯t know! All you guys have names that sound violent; I thought it was more of the same.¡±


    ¡°Violent?¡± Stomp asked with a blink. ¡°Bellow is named for loud singing, Trample for flattening the ground to make a dance floor, Carve for creating art, Stare for observing beauty, and Throwfast for sports.¡± She looked at the centaur with amusement. ¡°What in all that sounds violent?¡±


    Windmane just made an exasperated sound, and Stomp chuckled some more. Windmane grumbled about strange minotaur naming conventions.


    Stomp gestured broadly at the celebration before them. ¡°All these new experiences, and you¡¯re taking issue with our names?¡±


    Windmane sighed. ¡°It¡¯s just that I thought I understood it, you know? Nothing here is familiar, but there¡¯s herd solidarity, but your herd is completely different from my herd. Mine is dozens of families, with layers of leadership. Yours is one group of mates. I don¡¯t belong here either.¡±


    Stomp put a hand on her arm, squeezing gently. ¡°You¡¯re safe and welcomed,¡± she said. ¡°And you¡¯ll be back with your own herd soon enough.¡±


    ¡°I hope you¡¯re right.¡±


    Stomp looked around for something to lift her spirits. The other minotaurs were standing nearby, chatting with orcs about music while a cluster of harpy chicks made an adorable attempt at the stomping dance. Everyone was enjoying themselves. In the distance, colorful specks of light swirled in the direction of the village. Nearby pixies zipped off to greet them.


    ¡°Hey, look!¡± Stomp pointed. ¡°The other pixies are coming! I think I can make out a bag of pixie dust.¡±


    ¡°Where??¡± Windmane asked with surprising urgency. ¡°I want to ask if I can use some too. It¡¯s got to be better than trying to walk like this.¡±


    It didn¡¯t take much urging to get Throwfast to carry Windmane once again. Soon the pair were speeding off in the direction of the pixie swarm, with Carve going along for good measure.


    ¡°Has that one ever used pixie dust before?¡± asked the deep voice of an orc as Stomp got to her feet.


    ¡°Not that I know of,¡± Stomp said, craning her neck to look up.


    The orc was shaking his massive head. ¡°You know what they say about fistfights and frigid water.¡±


    Stomp paused. ¡°No. What do they say?¡±


    The smile was unsettling with that many teeth. ¡°If you¡¯re going to start the one, you¡¯d best be prepared for the other.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± Stomp said. ¡°Is that a ¡­ boat saying?¡±


    The orc laughed. ¡°Aye, guess it is. Good advice, though.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I suppose so.¡± Stomp shook herself and stood tall. ¡°I¡¯m sure Windmane will be levelheaded enough to handle the challenge,¡± she declared. ¡°She won¡¯t be falling into any frigid water, real or figurative.¡±


    ¡°I hope she tries it over here. A flying human or two is just what this party needs.¡±


    Stomp shook her head, once again taking in the sights. ¡°I think this party is pretty great already,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m glad I got to be part of it. Thanks to you folks for improving the day immeasurably.¡±


    ¡°Our pleasure!¡± the orc said, once again showing too many teeth. ¡°This town is always a fine start to our trade route. Way to kick it off in style.¡±


    Stomp nodded. She caught sight of the silver dragon, who had taken up a polite position at the edge of the crowd and seemed to be enjoying the fishy drink. ¡°Now all we need,¡± she said, ¡°Is for that elder dragon to come back on his flying carpet with news on how to reverse the spell. He seems on top of things. I¡¯m sure he¡¯s got it handled.¡±

 Chapter 6

    Razorscale tossed his head in irritation, wishing for proper fangs again so he could snarl over his shoulder at the human contraption following him. It was an enchanted wagon of some sort ¡ª sleek metal and unnecessarily fancy ¡ª and it had risen from the wall of the city when he¡¯d crossed over in the dark. Mage-lanterns lit the front, and there appeared to be humans riding inside.


    ¡°Land now,¡± commanded a voice over the wind. It was artificially amplified, and unpleasant.


    Razorscale growled. He considered setting the carpet to max speed, but had to admit that he didn¡¯t know if the wheel-less cart could keep up. It looked like it might be fast.


    So he spiraled back to the nearest flat rooftop, coming to rest above the surface without making a move to land fully. Streetlights illuminated the area well enough. He faced his pursuers with the best death glare his human face could manage, straight-backed, cross-legged, and with several charms hidden by folds in his sleeves.


    ¡°Spread your fingers where we can see them,¡± said the voice as the cart settled onto the rooftop before him. Two humans stared him down, one talking into what was clearly an amplification attachment. Behind them was an empty cage instead of another seat.


    Razorscale didn¡¯t move. ¡°I have somewhere to be,¡± he snapped. ¡°You are interfering.¡±


    ¡°And you are trespassing,¡± countered the human. Razorscale¡¯s weak eyes made him out to be a sturdy, pale sort. The silent one was darker. ¡°This is a restricted flight area. You obviously don¡¯t have clearance, so I¡¯ll say one more time: spread your fingers in the air.¡±


    Razorscale instead clenched his hand around the charm for seeing through illusions. ¡°Perhaps there is a reason,¡± he said, ¡°That I don¡¯t look like I have clearance.¡±


    When his mage lines flared bright, visible on his neck and face, the human fumbled the attachment and dropped it. The anti-illusion charm didn¡¯t show Razorscale anything helpful, but it certainly showed them something. The darker human was gesturing wildly at the pale one. When that didn¡¯t get the desired result, she called out to Razorscale directly.


    ¡°We apologize, sir!¡± she said. ¡°Please go about your business with no further delay.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Razorscale said. With a nod, he commanded the carpet to take off at speed, relaxing his hold on the charm as he did. The humans behind him would undoubtedly be confused and concerned, and they might start looking for him later when they found out he wasn¡¯t some anticipated envoy or other special guest. But that was their problem. Razorscale was happy to let them assume. They clearly thought he was a human magician advanced enough to cover his own mage marks, which was a level of skill that didn¡¯t exist. Idiots.


    Inefficient human magicians, he thought. Leaking magic everywhere when they try to use it. Absolute children of a species.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    He flew high enough that he could locate the river again, then began looking for a specific bend.


    * * * * *


    He¡¯d thought the directions were lazy when he¡¯d heard them, but there was indeed a very clear ¡°bad one¡± when it came to riverbends with parks. Trash floating downstream gathered at the bend. It made the grassy area even more unsightly than it already was.


    Razorscale landed on the pavement under a streetlight that was running low on power ¡ª ironic, considering the writing all over the storefront that advertised magical batteries for any use. The place looked as ramshackle as the location deserved. Razorscale rolled up his carpet, gathered a strategic fistful of charms, and shoved the door open.


    It jingled merrily. The three humans in the room looked up at him, one from behind the counter and two from a display by the front window. None had mage marks, quality clothing, or enough confidence to ignore him. The two at the front scurried outside when Razorscale strode toward the counter with angry steps.


    ¡°Are you Dergaw Dea?¡± he asked.


    The human was a mediocre specimen: thickly built with greasy hair. His smile was insincere while he asked, ¡°What can I do for you, friend?¡±


    Razorscale dropped the carpet roll and fixed him with a glare. ¡°Who cast the spell you gave Tarse and Macken?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± Dergaw Dea claimed, reaching beneath the counter.


    Razorscale triggered a defensive blast that sent the man careening backwards into a cabinet. It also launched items off shelves on all sides, and made something in the ceiling crack. The blue of Razorscale''s mage lines reflected off every surface.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like repeating myself,¡± he said.


    The man had guts, Razorscale would give him that, but the portable lightning strike that flashed from his ring was shunted off to the sides by Razorscale¡¯s invulnerability charm. The dragon in human form stood there, unaffected, while more of the shop crashed down around him.


    Then he put an end to the scuffle with a speed charm. Dergaw Dea found himself bound in glowing blue bands, face-to-face with with someone just looking for an excuse to bite him.


    ¡°It was Huploe Tica!¡± he exclaimed, leaning away. ¡°You want her, not me!¡±


    Razorscale didn¡¯t move. ¡°Where.¡±


    ¡°She lives on the ¡ª do you know the coastline up north?¡±


    ¡°Wherrrrrre.¡±


    The man gulped. ¡°An island. Lots of sand and trees. Big mountain in the middle. Sand bars on every side, hard to get to without going aground.¡±


    ¡°What landmarks from the air?¡± Razorscale demanded.


    Dergaw Dea told him, in detail, until Razorscale was sure that he¡¯d be able to find it. When pressed, the human also gave up four other names, and an elaborate description of the ¡°magic science¡± that the group would be doing on that island. They would be hidden away in a warded basement for at least a week.


    That suited Razorscale just fine.


    ¡°Good,¡± he said, stepping back without releasing the bonds. ¡°You may live. For now. Do not get involved in that kind of spellwork again.¡±


    ¡°Yes sir.¡±


    Still keeping an eye on the imprisoned human, Razorscale located his carpet and headed for the exit, making little effort to step around the items on the floor. He paused to grab two things off an accessory display: a charm belt that could fit under his shirt and a wrist band for the extras. They were of terrible quality, but they would give him skin contact on all the charms while keeping his hands free.


    With one more scowling glance at Dergaw Dea, Razorscale strode out the door. He released the bonds as soon as he was outside. Before the human could respond, he unrolled the carpet and disappeared skyward.


    That had been gratifyingly easy for a businessman who had likely been threatened before. Razorscale was going to use all caution when investigating this island stronghold.

 Chapter 7

    Windmane wasn¡¯t exactly a fan of being carried around by the minotaurs, but she did appreciate how fast they were. The one holding her now was keeping pace with the other one easily. At this rate, they might reach the harpy¡¯s house before the glowing cloud of pixies did.


    It was close. The pixies arrived first, but the door hadn¡¯t shut before Windmane¡¯s escorts pounded up to it.


    ¡°Wait, please!¡± Windmane called out.


    The harpy in the doorway waited, clearly unimpressed.


    When the minotaurs came to a halt at a respectful distance, Windmane pleaded her case. ¡°I need some of the pixie dust too. I can¡¯t walk.¡±


    ¡°Really.¡± The harpy ruffled her brown feathers. ¡°You still haven¡¯t figured it out?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been one day!¡± Windmane exclaimed. ¡°I¡¯m used to having more legs than this! How long would it take you to learn to hop along on one hand if your legs disappeared?¡±


    The harpy laughed at that. ¡°Yeah, okay.¡± She waved wingtip fingers to usher Windmane forward. ¡°The pixies brought a pretty good amount.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Windmane said. The minotaur carried her through the door, having to duck low and hold the centaur-turned-human out in front of her for balance. It was a more dramatic entrance than Windmane had expected, but at least it caught the pixies¡¯ attention.


    They were darting about the room in excitement, to the delight of the harpy chicks crawling over a nest made of pillows. One adult harpy was doing her best to keep the children from swatting them out of the air, while the other was left her position at the door to join the second human in the room.


    Beak didn¡¯t look overly pleased at the interruption. She urged the cluster of pixies with the bag of pixie dust to get on with it. They untied it quickly and began sprinkling glitterdust over her head.


    At Windmane¡¯s polite request, the pixies agreed to do her next. The minotaur wisely set her down first ¡ª on the sturdy table rather than her own feet ¡ª then stepped well back. Windmane held her breath while the magical dandruff rained down in a sparkling rainbow. She¡¯d never come in contact with pixie dust to this degree, and knew precious little about it, but she did know not to breathe it.


    She heard Beak¡¯s laughter a moment before the dust took effect. The harpy-human was already up near the ceiling, trying to flap her arms like wings and succeeding only in looking silly. The pixies flitted about, offering advice.


    Then Windmane was floating upward, as buoyant as an apple in a river.


    ¡°Think of where you want to go!¡± said a tiny voice in her ear. ¡°You control it with your thoughts!¡±


    ¡°It helps to look in the direction you want to fly,¡± added another.


    Windmane did her best. She was halfway to the ceiling, but when she looked at the far wall and thought hard about moving toward it, she did. Far too quickly.


    ¡°Ah!¡± she yelped as she stopped, inches from the wall. She uncurled from the defensive ball to find a helpful cloud of pixies all giving contradictory advice.


    One of the adult harpies called from ground level, ¡°All right, time to take it outside!¡± Before the harpy could reach her own door to open it, the pixies were there in a swarm, working together to lift the latch and woosh outside. They chattered encouragement for the two humans to follow them.


    Windmane doubted her ability to make it through without hitting the doorframe. Beak held no such inhibitions. Familiar with flying of a different sort, the should-be-a-harpy zoomed forward with a piercing bird cry. Windmane floated carefully after her, with the two towering minotaurs and one of the harpies trailing in her wake. The hatchlings chirped in disappointment.


    Flying turned out to be less tricky once she got a feel for how precise the control could be. Thinking hard about going somewhere meant she went there fast. She almost crashed into a couple stone walls that looked exceptionally painful. But while the minotaurs kept watch like careful bodyguards, Windmane figured it out. When she finally drifted forward at a walking pace, at something approaching her regular head height, they even applauded.


    Windmane smiled in relief. When she broadened her attention to the world at large, she realized that Beak was nowhere to be seen, and neither were the other harpy or the pixies. By the sounds of it, they had all flown off to the celebration grounds. Orcs were laughing heartily.


    ¡°Should we go join everybody else?¡± Windmane suggested. The minotaurs nodded in unison and strode forward. Windmane drifted at their pace, a few steps to the side, until the party came back into view.


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    Beak was looping through the sky while the harpies showed lukewarm approval and the orcs clearly thought this was the best thing they had seen in a while. One caught sight of Windmane approaching, and urged her to try some acrobatics too.


    ¡°No thank you,¡± Windmane said, coming to hover next to Stomp and the rest of the minotaurs. ¡°Flying isn¡¯t my idea of fun. I just want to be able to move around.¡±


    The orc shook his enormous head. ¡°You don¡¯t want to swim through the sky? Looks fun to me. Hey glowbugs, got any more of that stuff?¡±


    Before Windmane could object that no, she needed that bag of dust, the pixies were happily volunteering to dump some on the orc too.


    His laughter shook the field when his feet lifted off.


    Then the orcs were all clamoring for a chance, and Windmane¡¯s protests were lost in the chaos. Short moments later, the bag was empty and most of the orc delegation was up in the sky, jostling each other playfully and pretending to swim.


    Beak swooped down, arms spread as if they were wings, and landed beside Windmane and Stomp. ¡°They said this wears off pretty quickly,¡± she said with a frown. ¡°I am more than a little disappointed. Twig, why didn¡¯t you stop them wasting it?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± the human pixie looked over from where he was cheering on the orcs. ¡°Wasting what?¡±


    ¡°The pixie dust!¡± Beak said. ¡°There¡¯s no more for us when this wears off!¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± He looked down, apparently not having considered this. ¡°We can get some more! Right, everybody? There¡¯s got to be more that won¡¯t be missed.¡±


    A swirl of anxious pixies converged to discuss it. Windmane couldn¡¯t make out the words, but she didn¡¯t like the tone.


    Twig emerged from the cloud. ¡°Okay, so,¡± he said, ¡°That was all of the spare dust they could scrape together. But! If somebody wants to pay for it, there¡¯s more that¡¯s waiting to be sold.¡±


    ¡°How much?¡± chorused Beak and an orc floating upside-down above them.


    ¡°Umm?¡± Twig looked back at his fluttering kinfolk, some of whom appeared to know more about the business side of things than he did.


    He named a price, and the haggling began. Windmane stayed out of it, since she didn¡¯t have any money with her. She regretted not grabbing her bag of possessions out of the cart before getting dragged off to meet the dryads. She¡¯d had no way of knowing that she wouldn¡¯t be back.


    But Beak was bargaining on her behalf ¡ª a little surprising, really ¡ª and the minotaurs were offering to chip in if needed. It was almost enough to make Windmane tear up. This wasn¡¯t her herd, but they were helping even so.


    A deal was struck for what amounted to as much pixie dust as the swarm could carry back on short notice. They did an aerial dance of agreement, then shot off into the distance, leaving none but Twig behind.


    He looked like he was trying not to be lonely. But before Windmane could offer comfort, he shook it off and returned his attention to coaching the orcs through the sky.


    A flare of silver wings on the far side of the balancing rocks caught Windmane¡¯s attention. The young dragon was trotting away from the festivities, looking into the distance.


    Windmane was about to ask to be carried in that direction before she remembered she could do it herself. She tapped Stomp¡¯s shoulder, pointed, then floated up to a level between harpy head height and the orc danger zone. They were starting to pick up the padded sticks from earlier. Windmane flew past very carefully.


    When she made it past the crowd, she could make out the speck in the sky that the silver dragon had seen already. It looked like someone on a flying carpet.


    ¡°Is that the dragon?¡± asked Stomp. The rest of the herd trampled up behind her.


    ¡°I think so,¡± Windmane said, squinting. ¡°Your eyes are as bad as mine.¡±


    They didn¡¯t have long to wait. The flying carpet showed some impressive speed, coming in for a precision landing that sent a wash of air towards the onlookers. A squeak said Twig was there too, getting his hair blown about, but the harpies had stayed at the festivities. Windmane didn¡¯t bother to look. The dragon was back.


    The young one greeted him first, with a tilt of their sinuous neck that bared their throat. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you, Mentor!¡±


    The older dragon in human form got off the carpet and responded with a regal nod. ¡°And you. Is the last of the group still here?¡±


    ¡°Yes. She is currently flying with pixie dust among the orcs.¡± The young dragon pointed. Windmane glanced back at the sight that the elder was seeing for the first time; it was still a riot of flight and mock battles.


    ¡°A lot of that going around,¡± the elder said drily. ¡°But they¡¯re all here. Good job keeping an eye on them.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t easy,¡± the youth admitted. ¡°The harpy jumped off a cliff.¡±


    ¡°Then very good job. You do me proud.¡±


    The young dragon beamed at that, tail swishing like a happy cat.


    ¡°You can give me the details later,¡± the elder said. ¡°For now, plans. I¡¯ve taken a look at the island where our targets are supposedly hidden away for the next few days; we just need to get there and apply pressure.¡±


    Windmane had some doubts about that, but she kept quiet.


    Stomp spoke up. ¡°If we¡¯ve got a few days, that¡¯s a relief. Do you need to rest? Have you been flying all night?¡±


    The dragon shook his head. ¡°I slept.¡±


    ¡°In a bed?¡± Stomp pressed.


    ¡°In a bush,¡± the dragon said with a snarl. ¡°In the better of two public parks, with my carpet and one of the remaining charges in my limited-use invisibility charm. I¡¯ve had worse. Ready to hurry back.¡±


    ¡°How do we do that?¡± Windmane asked. She looked to Twig. ¡°Will this dose of pixie dust last long enough for Beak and me to fly there?¡±


    Twig looked alarmed. ¡°Oh! Uh, no. Really shouldn¡¯t bet on that. This was extra dust, remember, the stuff that¡¯s almost expired, and meant for skyfruit fertilizer. You¡¯d fall out of the sky.¡±


    Windmane sighed in disappointment. ¡°Great.¡± She was just getting used to floating without touching the ground. ¡°I guess we have time to wait for the pixies to come back with more? It took something like four hours before.¡±


    The dragon shook his head. ¡°We should start moving now,¡± he said. ¡°That¡¯s time we can¡¯t squander.¡±


    ¡°How, then?¡± Windmane demanded. ¡°Does that carpet hold five people? Cuz I¡¯m pretty sure you said three would be pushing it.¡±


    ¡°That is the question, isn¡¯t it?¡± asked the dragon. He pointed at the shenanigans in the sky. ¡°Those orcs came here by boat, yes? What do you think it would take to convince them to take passengers?¡±

 Chapter 8

    Beak was enjoying herself until she noticed the group of human shapes together on the ground. A headcount confirmed it; the dragon was back. And no one had told her! She spun in midair and arrowed toward them. They saw her coming and stepped back, which was just insulting. What did they take her for, some bald hatchling who had never been airborne before? Never mind that this was a different type of flying from her own feathers. Pixie dust was almost easier, though that would be blasphemous to admit.


    She came in for a proper landing, backwinging with her human arms out of habit. There wasn¡¯t much wind to herald her approach, but she thought it was a pretty good landing nonetheless.


    She had no idea why they were cringing like that. She hadn¡¯t hit anyone.


    ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± Beak demanded. ¡°Welcome back,¡± she added for the dragon¡¯s sake.


    ¡°We¡¯re leaving as soon as possible,¡± the dragon replied, speaking over a couple of the others. ¡°Would you know how best to convince the orcs to give us a ride in their boats?¡±


    ¡°Let me do the talking,¡± Beak said immediately. ¡°They¡¯ll want to haggle. New and interesting things are good. Anything that makes them laugh. They don¡¯t need weapons, they don¡¯t eat many plants, and everything should be waterproof.¡±


    ¡°Hm,¡± the dragon said thoughtfully. He looked around at nothing in particular, then down at his apprentice. ¡°Care to impress me?¡±


    The young dragon snapped to attention, nodding once.


    The adult scooped up a smooth white rock from the ground, which Beak recognized from the many that the children had been carrying up from the beach earlier. Someone had definitely told them to put them back. Apparently they had dumped them out here instead.


    This one was getting put to good use now, while the two dragons muttered over it. The silver youth nodded and clutched the rock in one fist, pressing a talon from the other hand against it while the human-shaped adult stood and watched.


    Beak twitched when the rock appeared to burst into flame, then she realized that this was just the color of the young dragon¡¯s magic. She realized that she¡¯d never seen a dragon work magic up close before. Or had she? Maybe that firebreathing was a different sort of thing than she¡¯d always thought.


    Maybe she¡¯d ask later. Probably not.


    The magic flames shrank away, leaving the rock with a glowing reddish pattern carved into it. The young dragon held it out for the adult to take and inspect. He did, giving it a detailed once-over before nodding his approval. The little one looked proud.


    ¡°Will the orcs like this?¡± the adult dragon asked, holding it up. ¡°It will provide ten hours of bright light for every hour of sunlight it absorbs. Waterproof. Easy to track when dropped in the sea. It will last years.¡±


    Beak was nodding even as she thought through the uses. ¡°Yes. But one probably won¡¯t be enough. How many can you make?¡±


    The dragon smiled, handing the rock back to his apprentice. It was the smile of experienced hagglers everywhere. ¡°More than enough,¡± he said. ¡°But as far as the orcs are concerned, this is an extremely difficult and time-consuming enchantment. We are all fortunate that my apprentice here put some of our more valuable charms in their bag for safekeeping, and didn¡¯t send them back home with the rest of our supplies.¡±


    ¡°Speaking of which,¡± the young dragon spoke up. ¡°I do still have the other teleportation charm for getting home. Would we be better off just going there instead of bothering with the boats?¡±


    The adult shook his head. ¡°I considered that. While there are many useful things at home, none of them will get us to our quarry any faster. You are making impressive speed through your studies, but teleportation spells are for later.¡±


    And he can¡¯t do it himself, Beak thought. He must hate that.


    ¡°What about other dragons?¡± Windmane suggested. ¡°Don¡¯t you have neighbors? Would one of them be able to¡ª¡±


    ¡°No,¡± the dragon said, showing teeth.


    The apprentice shook their head.


    Windmane didn¡¯t ask again.


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    ¡°So,¡± the adult dragon said to Beak, ¡°We will gather rocks and make more of these out of sight, then you will approach the orcs and bargain for a swift ride up the coast. Agreed?¡±


    Beak agreed. The apprentice put the rock in their bag and immediately started gathering more. A look back showed the orcs paying not the slightest bit of attention.


    * * * * *


    Beak went hard on the bargaining. She¡¯d never handled her town¡¯s trade personally, but she¡¯d seen it done. Strength was key. So when the rocks were ready, she took one and leapt into the sky to rejoin the cloud of frolicking orcs.


    ¡°Ouula!¡± she called. ¡°I have a deal for you!¡±


    The co-captain spun forward through the air, followed by her husband. The others politely gave them space, though Beak could tell they were only pretending not to listen. Horrible gossips, all of them. It probably came from all that time in the boats with nothing to do but talk.


    ¡°What kind of deal is it, then?¡± asked Ouula. She was floating at Beak¡¯s eye level, which Beak found she preferred to the usual towering orc height. Org bobbed beside her. Beak was pretty sure that he was deliberately moving up and down like he was drifting on gentle waves. Of course he was.


    Beak got right to the point. ¡°A bargain for you to take a few passengers, in exchange for valuable items that you do not have.¡±


    The orcs were happy to hear about this. They urged her to explain, and when she presented the charm, they were suitably impressed.


    The deal went well. Beak bargained for everything she could, even getting them to agree to shove off sooner than expected. Not bad for someone who hadn¡¯t haggled with them before.


    It did feel a bit like the orcs were humoring her at times, but they always smiled like that. Too many teeth and far too happy for any given circumstance. But they agreed.


    When the deal was settled, the pair followed her groundward to accept the rest of the charms from the young dragon.


    As the handover took place ¡ª from taloned hand to massive meaty fist ¡ª Beak kept a close eye on the other temporary humans of the group. Especially the male one who should have been a pixie. She didn¡¯t trust him not to speak up about how talented the young dragon was, enchanting all these so quickly. But the centaur and minotaur were flanking him, clearly with the same thought. Good.


    Things moved quickly after that. Ouula and Org gathered their crew while the minotaur said a tearful farewell to her herd (there wasn¡¯t space on the boats for all of them, and anyway they had lives to get back to. Beak didn¡¯t stick around to listen for the details). Instead she flew back to her own house to say goodbye-for-now and gather supplies. Just because the rest of the unfortunates were stuck with what they had with them didn¡¯t mean she had to be.


    By the time she got back to the mostly-empty dance field, the minotaurs had apparently had a similar thought; the bull had purchased food and blankets and whatnot from the town store. Enough for everyone, which struck Beak as overly generous. But it wasn¡¯t her money to waste.


    ¡°Good, there you are,¡± the dragon said when Beak arrived. He stood by the pile of blankets while the minotaurs said goodbye again. ¡°Ready to leave?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Beak had her travel backpack stuffed full (and she¡¯d discovered that it was easier to put on in human form, another convenience she would never acknowledge out loud). She¡¯d said her goodbyes. Her sisters trusted her to handle herself well, and the babies had no idea what was going on. They¡¯d all be fine.


    ¡°Good,¡± the dragon said. ¡°Org wants to go over the ¡®boat rules¡¯ once everyone is together. Now all we¡¯re missing is the pixie.¡±


    ¡°Oh great. Where did he go?¡±


    ¡°Off to make sure someone greets his swarm when they come back here. I¡¯m sure some of your kinfolk will be able to act as intermediaries between pixies and orcs.¡±


    Beak snorted. ¡°Glad I¡¯m not involved,¡± was all she said. Then she caught sight of the yellow-haired pixie/human on his way back, and she waved him impatiently forward. ¡°C¡¯mon, Twig! Time for boat rules!¡±


    He hurried. The minotaurs helped carry all of the supplies down to the beach, likely as an excuse to say goodbye yet again. Beak was just glad she didn¡¯t have to carry other people¡¯s things.


    Or the centaur, she thought as she noticed the pixie dust¡¯s effect getting weak. She landed and made do with walking the rest of the way, though the centaur beside her floated for all she was worth, even when her feet started to drag.


    Beak sighed. They¡¯d be in the boats soon, and it wouldn¡¯t matter. Maybe the swarm would even catch up to them, though the dragon didn¡¯t seem to think so. Not her problem either way.


    Down on the pebbly beach, the orcs were waiting for them, with space prepared on several boats to distribute the additional weight. Beak looked over the range of seacraft, forming opinions on which looked driest, assuming she¡¯d get a chance to pick her own seat.


    But first, boat rules. These turned out to be both simpler and stupider than Beak had expected. And she was familiar with how orcs behaved.


    ¡°The rules will keep you inside the boat,¡± Org declared, holding a paddle in one hand and smacking it against his other palm. ¡°And in everyone¡¯s good graces. If anyone breaks the rules, that¡¯s a paddlin¡¯.¡± He went on to list a number of things that were forbidden, including ¡°Leaning over the side, eating Ouula¡¯s fish, and skipping the call-out on a shanty.¡±


    Twig raised a hand. ¡°What if we fall in the water?¡±


    Org pointed the paddle at him. ¡°Then you were leaning too far. We¡¯ll fish you out, and that¡¯s a paddlin¡¯.¡±


    Twig put his hand down. Org continued.


    Beak was standing between the small dragon and a wall of minotaur muscle. She bent down and whispered to the dragon, ¡°Ten coppers says the pixie gets paddled first.¡±


    The silver dragon whispered back without budging from their dignified position. ¡°Respectable apprentices do not gamble.¡± Then after a pause, they continued: ¡°And I wouldn¡¯t throw away money on that bet.¡±


    ¡°Fair.¡±


    Org pointed at them. ¡°Not paying attention while a captain is talking! That¡¯s a paddlin¡¯!¡±


    ¡°We apologize,¡± the dragon said smoothly while Beak swore.


    ¡°I¡¯ll let it go this once. Now let¡¯s get you all on the boats!¡±


    Beak raced for the biggest one, ready to claim a seat that wouldn¡¯t get wet.

 Chapter 9

    Twig fidgeted. Boats were boring.


    It had been exciting at first, settling into his designated seat in the narrow craft without upsetting it. The thing wobbled! Under his own weight! Twig had never been heavy enough to move something this big before. It was quite the experience. The two orcs sharing the boat (canoe?) with him were helpful, holding his arm at first and then physically picking him up to set him where he should be. Much simpler that way.


    The orcs got in, talked loudly with people on the other boats, and the whole convoy shoved off. Twig had expected one orc to need to stand and push the boat, then leap in, but they turned out to be strong enough to just push the paddles against the ground and scrape out to sea. Surely that wasn¡¯t good for the bottom of the boat. But this one was armored with leviathan bones and leather; maybe that could handle this sort of thing.


    The orcs were singing again. A nice song, with a melody that bobbed like the boat over the little waves, but it went on forever. If Twig had known the words, he could have sun along, but nope. All he could do was sit there and listen, watching the other boats stay in mostly the same arrangement while the coast slowly eased by.


    He twisted in his seat to look back the way they had come, but he couldn¡¯t see past the gigantic orc who was paddling first on one side, then the other. The paddle passed over Twig¡¯s head in a well-practiced arc, sending a spray of droplets past him onto a waterproof bundle of supplies.


    Twig appreciated not getting water on his head. Or down his neck. That would be unpleasant.


    He faced forward and tried to think of something to hold his interest. He kept worrying about the reception his kinfolk would get when they returned with all that pixie dust, only to find the buyers gone to sea. The harpies he¡¯d spoken to hadn¡¯t filled him with confidence.


    I hope the swarm is faster this time, Twig thought. They¡¯ll arrive soon, and catch up to us, and everything will be fine. The orcs can do business on one of the bigger boats, maybe give everybody some complimentary snacks after the long flight, then I can say goodbye again. Maybe some will want to come along for the trip!


    They probably wouldn¡¯t, since the boats were getting further and further from home, but Twig could hope.


    So he did that, spending a few minutes imagining the best possible outcome for the near future. Then when he¡¯d finished building the scene in his mind, he wondered if the swarm was visible yet.


    So he stood up to look.


    The paddle caught him in the side of the head ¡ª painful and disorienting and SPLASH. Suddenly he was deep in cold water and flailing for the surface. He couldn¡¯t tell which way was up.


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    Enormous hands grabbed him under the arms and hauled him sputtering into the air. That air felt almost colder than the water ¡ª the wind! So cold! ¡ª but he could breathe again. The orc set him down in his seat, where he sat dripping and shivering, while every orc in earshot laughed heartily.


    ¡°Are you okay, little cousin?¡± asked the one behind him, tugging a blanket free. ¡°Take off the shirt; you¡¯ll warm up faster. Is your head dented?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m okay,¡± Twig said through chattering teeth. ¡°Just cold.¡±


    ¡°I bet,¡± the orc chuckled. ¡°Sorry about that. Here, let¡¯s get you sorted.¡±


    In moments, Twig was shirtless and wrapped several times over in a blanket that kept out the wind. It was pretty warm, even with the wet pants. He was already shivering less. His head hurt, but not too much.


    A larger boat pulled in close, and Ouula¡¯s voice spoke up.


    ¡°Thagaroulihumihuni,¡± she said, ¡°Has one of our guests tested the current already?¡±


    ¡°He stood up!¡± the orc protested. ¡°Right in the way of my arc!¡± Water dripping near Twig said the orc was pantomiming what had happened. Twig stayed hunkered down in the blanket.


    ¡°Really,¡± Ouula said. It sounded like she was looking at Twig when she asked, ¡°What¡¯d you do that for?¡±


    ¡°Wanted to see better,¡± Twig muttered.


    Predictably, Ouula laughed. ¡°Got a great view of the water, didn¡¯t you? Well normally I¡¯d say that¡¯s a paddling due, but it looks like Thag took care of it for me.¡±


    Thag saluted with a paddle, and this time it did drip on Twig¡¯s head. ¡°Happy to anticipate your whim, Captain!¡±


    ¡°Try to keep him in the boat next time,¡± Ouula suggested.


    Thag agreed, and the larger boat drifted away. Only to be replaced immediately with a different one, and more cheerful orcs.


    ¡°What happened, Grog? Rocking the boat again?¡±


    ¡°Look at Thag, not me! He whacked him with a paddle!¡±


    ¡°He stood up in front of me!¡±


    ¡°What¡¯d you do that for?¡±


    Twig grumbled and didn¡¯t bother with a proper answer this time. It didn¡¯t slow the conversation in the slightest.


    ¡°Gotta make sure you stay where you can breathe, little cousin. Even a fish has enough sense to stay out of the air.¡±


    ¡°Except that one I told you about.¡±


    ¡°You were drunk.¡±


    ¡°I was not! Not enough to start seeing things, anyway.¡±


    ¡°So drunk. Fish don¡¯t fly.¡±


    ¡°This one did!¡±


    The two orcs argued back and forth, going into detail about something that had happened years ago, until Razorscale¡¯s voice broke in.


    ¡°Flying fish live in the tropics,¡± the dragon said with such irritation that Twig lifted his head from the blanket cocoon to look. The other boat was too high to see over the side, but Razorscale was there somewhere, and clearly done with the argument. ¡°They are small silver fish with large fins that they use to glide short distances above the surface. They do it to escape predators underwater. It¡¯s not true flying, but it looks like it at a glance. Real thing; conversation over; consider yourselves educated.¡±


    There was a silent moment, then a renewed burst of conversation. The orcs were delighted by this knowledge. Twig himself would have found it very interesting, if his natural enthusiasm hadn¡¯t been dampened in the most literal sense.


    He tried to cheer himself with thoughts of arriving wherever they were going (he¡¯d missed that part) and getting fully dry. Maybe the small dragon could dry his clothes with fire. That seemed quick.


    Speaking of quick, the swarm is likely to catch up before these boats land, and then Razorscale will apologize for rushing us off like that. So there.


    Surely that was what would happen. He entertained himself with his thoughts while the boats paddled on, and the orcs sang heartily about punching sharks.

 Chapter 10

    It took all of Razorscale¡¯s willpower not to snap at the orcs to paddle faster. He knew that this was the best speed he would be getting from anyone, short of going ahead on the flying carpet, but that didn¡¯t help his patience. Instead he focused on strategies, mentally going over every possibility he could think of and sharing the most likely with his apprentice.


    By the time the afternoon sky darkened into evening, and the next village appeared on the coastline, the plan had solidified into two things. Confine the offending mages, and perform the counterspell. The method of accomplishing the first would depend on many factors, but the second would be done by the apprentice. Razorscale had spent a solid hour going over the incantation and power work that he had put together during his long carpet flights.


    It was simple enough for someone with Razorscale¡¯s centuries of experience. He was gambling a lot on the apprentice¡¯s ability to get it right on the first try, but it was a gamble that he felt confident in. And he would be there to advise.


    The boats glided toward shore amid the raucous singing of the orcs, who had mastered a new song courtesy of the minotaur woman. It revolved around stomping in time. Razorscale was glad to be returning to land.


    Less glad to have their forward momentum stopped, but he¡¯d take what he could get.


    Landing and disembarking were chaos. This village was a harpy one too, though with a different layout that Razorscale didn¡¯t care to examine in the fading light. There were dozens of harpies crowding the beach to greet the orcs, who were loudly happy to see them, spending only a cursory amount of attention on their passengers.


    Razorscale clambered out of the boat, blanket bundle in hand and apprentice close behind. They took up a position out of the way but close enough. One by one the other temporary humans found them.


    The pixie¡¯s clothes had dried in the sun, though by the way he carried his shoes over the pebbly ground, those still had a ways to go. The minotaur was helping the centaur, who had long since run out of pixie dust. The harpy was inspecting the village and pretending not to notice them stumbling behind her.


    ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡± she asked Razorscale. ¡°The town hall is smaller here, and may not have space for sleeping.¡±


    The centaur looked up in alarm. ¡°Wait, we¡¯re staying overnight? Aren¡¯t the orcs sailing farther?¡±


    ¡°Not in the dark,¡± the harpy told her.


    ¡°Maybe we could sleep in the boats,¡± suggested the minotaur. ¡°They¡¯d probably let us.¡±


    ¡°Or,¡± Razorscale said testily, ¡°We could keep moving instead of wasting a whole night.¡±


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    They argued with him. Apparently they were all overly fond of sleeping, and afraid of what might hide in the dark. A prey mindset. No amount of insisting that predators would steer clear of even a small dragon swayed their fear, nor did his certainty that he could handle a hypothetical thief.


    ¡°We could trip over something,¡± said the pixie. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever walked in the dark for long.¡±


    Razorscale rolled his eyes. ¡°You will be riding the carpet with her,¡± he said, pointing at the centaur, who wobbled in place despite the minotaur woman she clung to. ¡°No one else has wet shoes or other petty problems. There is a moon out. We will be fine.¡±


    They were still reluctant, exasperatingly so, and the conversation went in circles until Razorscale¡¯s apprentice spoke up.


    ¡°Mentor,¡± they said. ¡°The pixies are back.¡±


    Razorscale followed the pointed talon, and saw what looked like a cluster of colorful stars moving in the distance. He tried not to mourn his dragon vision as he squinted. ¡°So they are. Good news for everyone.¡± Especially me.


    ¡°Hooray, I knew it!¡± the pixie exclaimed, waving his wet shoes around happily. ¡°I told you so. I told you they¡¯d catch up.¡±


    ¡°Yes, good job,¡± Razorscale said. ¡°You can be in charge of flagging them down before they start talking to the orcs.¡±


    The pixie agreed readily, dropping his shoes to jump around wave his arms. Fortunately for him, the ground was all smooth pebbles here, with none of the bigger rocks to trip over.


    Razorscale gathered up a few of the better pebbles in case they needed any more glowstones. He had them all hidden away in the apprentice¡¯s pack by the time the pixies descended in a brilliant multicolored swarm.


    Utter madness. Unprofessional. Razorscale was glad they had paid up front, and only needed to accept the two smaller bags of dust that the colorful maniacs had brought for the centaur and the harpy. Then just as quickly, the pixies swept off to deliver the rest of their payload to the orcs.


    Razorscale deliberately turned his back on that exuberant interaction.


    The centaur was already rubbing glittery dust into her hair, lifting off the ground with a beatific smile. The harpy was conserving hers.


    Razorscale pointed at her pixie dust bag. ¡°Go ahead and open it up,¡± he said. ¡°The carpet can only hold two.¡±


    There was another token resistance to the idea of leaving now, but they had no leg to stand on and clearly knew it. Soon enough they all were agreeing with Razorscale (finally!) and hashing out the details.


    The centaur and the harpy would fly with the pixie dust. The minotaur and the pixie would ride on the carpet, with the bulk of the supplies. The apprentice would fly under their own power.


    ¡°What about you?¡± asked the pixie. ¡°Are you gonna ride¡ª?¡± He glanced at the apprentice. ¡°No offense, but you seem a little small for passengers.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Razorscale said. He pressed a finger to his side, where the speed charm was belted under his shirt. The motion was unnecessary since the charm already touched his skin, but it did make his arm glow spectacularly when he activated it. ¡°I will run.¡±


    The pixie cocked his head. ¡°Did you eat those things?¡±


    Razorscale glared. ¡°They¡¯re on a belt.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Right.¡±


    ¡°Now if there are no more foolish objections,¡± Razorscale said as he let the mage lines fade, ¡°Let¡¯s gather the rest of our things, say our goodbyes, and be off. It¡¯s only a couple hours¡¯ flight from here if we make good time.¡±


    ¡°Do we really want to arrive in the dark?¡± the centaur asked. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t daylight be better?¡±


    Razorscale smiled as if his teeth were still sharp. ¡°Nighttime will be perfect.¡±

 Chapter 11

    Stomp clutched the sides of the flying carpet, leaning against the blanket roll in her lap as if it was the comforting bulk of a herdmate. She¡¯d been in the night sky for hours, and still found it terrifying. Human eyes made it worse: the darkness was extra dark, and she couldn¡¯t see behind herself. The knowledge that there was only more darkness and a long drop didn¡¯t help.


    Twig, on the other hand, was full of bubbly cheer from his seat in front of her, doing enough talking for two. Stomp gritted her teeth and didn¡¯t complain. They were making good time, and that was what mattered.


    Two human shapes flanked them in the moonlight, glittering with pixie dust, and the small silver dragon flew in front. Down on the ground, running with magical speed along the deserted coastal road, was the elder dragon in human form. He glowed with blue lines that lit up the scenery as he passed. They made a strange procession. Stomp would have appreciated it more from ground level. Minotaurs weren¡¯t meant to fly.


    Twig was clearly loving this. ¡°It¡¯s a pity we can¡¯t all go at proper pixie speed,¡± he said over his shoulder, causing a shudder from Stomp that he ignored. ¡°I¡¯m sure this carpet could keep up, and that speed magic is impressive, but I¡¯m surprised that dragons don¡¯t fly as fast as I thought they did. Maybe big ones are faster. I don¡¯t want to rush Silver here, of course¡­¡±


    ¡°Silver?¡± Stomp asked. ¡°I thought they didn¡¯t have a name yet.¡±


    Twig rotated to look at her, which made her more than a little uneasy, but the carpet kept flying straight. ¡°They don¡¯t! It¡¯s really interesting. I talked to them at the orc party. Before baby dragons earn a name, they still need some way to show who they¡¯re talking about, so they usually describe each other by what they look like. That gets shortened to their color most often, since they have such a range of options in any given generation. So we would call this dragon ¡®the younger one,¡¯ or ¡®the silver one,¡¯ and they said it was fine if I just said ¡®Silver.¡¯¡± Twig beamed like he¡¯d answered all of life¡¯s questions.


    ¡°That does make it easier for conversation,¡± Stomp said.


    ¡°And did you know why there¡¯s so many different colors?¡± Twig chattered on. ¡°Silver told me about this too! It¡¯s partly genetics, but dragons do a lot of adopting as a regular thing ¡ª some parents will have a huge clutch of eggs and give up a few, then another couple that can¡¯t lay their own will take them in. Everything gets mixed and matched.¡±


    ¡°How do they keep from marrying a sibling later?¡± Stomp asked. ¡°Please watch where you¡¯re steering.¡±


    Twig turned back. ¡°No idea! Maybe they keep detailed records. I¡¯ll ask Silver later. They were happy to explain the other stuff to me before. Hey, did you know dragons choose a gender at the same time they choose a name?¡±


    Stomp gave enough polite answers to keep him talking, and Twig happily went on to explain his new understanding of why there were so many dragon couples incapable of laying their own eggs. It was interesting enough to pass the time. Stomp wondered if Silver had been embarrassed to discuss all this. It seemed like the kind of subtle social cue that would breeze right by the pixie.


    They kept on at this pace for a long, uncomfortable while. Stomp was grateful for the blanket roll and Twig blocking the worst of the wind. She tried not to look down much, just checking every so often that the glowing figure still ran below them. At one point she was startled to realize that the ground was closer than before.


    ¡°Are you flying lower on purpose?¡± she asked Twig.


    ¡°Yes, to match the girls,¡± he replied, pointing to the sides. ¡°Their pixie dust is running low. We¡¯ll probably have to land soon.¡±


    Stomp welcomed the idea, and she was relieved when she finally saw Razorscale wave a glowing arm, ushering them down to join him. The carpet came to rest on a grassy hillside near the road, with a view of the nighttime sea and a harsh rocky beach. The remains of an enormous tree lay like a beached whale. Stomp marveled at it while she stretched out her human legs, and the others gathered around her.


    ¡°Now is the time to prepare,¡± Razorscale announced. He pointed across the water. ¡°Out there is the island. We will all fly across by pixie dust ¡ª yes, even you ¡ª for speed, silence, and a maximum number of options once we arrive. Now, which bundle holds the drinking water?¡±


    Stomp hurried to unroll the blankets, and see that everyone got a share of the flasks and snacks. She was personally wary of the food. Harpies had provided it, knowing that it needed to survive travel, so there were no fresh plants. Just bread, nuts, and dried fish. Stomp¡¯s stomach heaved at the smell of that last. She happily left it for the dragons and Beak.


    Oh, I hope that hasn¡¯t made everything else smell like fish, Stomp thought as she picked out a chunk of bread. Wait, what¡¯s that? Carrots, yes! She hastily claimed them, with a speed that no one argued with.


    No one except for Windmane. ¡°Can I have some too?¡± the centaur asked plaintively. ¡°I don¡¯t like fish either.¡±


    Stomp relented and shared. It was only fair. The two of them were used to a diet of plants, while the others didn¡¯t see anything wrong with a bit of horrible smelly meat. At least the carrots didn¡¯t stink much.


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    The hasty meal was done quickly. Twig dashed off to find somewhere to pee, which made Stomp glad that she¡¯d used the strange harpy toilet before leaving the second village. As awkward and low as it was, a dark hillside would be worse. When he got back, Stomp made sure that Silver was indeed okay with the nickname, and that everyone knew what to call each other.


    By the time the group was ready to go, Razorscale was visibly impatient. He urged everyone to hide the blankets and remaining supplies under a bush. Then he administered the pixie dust himself, giving a much-depleted bag back to Beak. She grumbled, and he hissed that they could talk reimbursement after restoring their proper forms. She accepted that. Windmane piped up that she had more left in the other bag too.


    Stomp was busy coming to grips with the fact that her feet weren¡¯t touching the ground anymore, and she seemed to drift in any direction she thought about. It made her more than a little uneasy.


    Windmane was full of advice, thankfully, and Stomp picked up the basics quickly enough for Razorscale¡¯s patience. Barely.


    Twig looped about. ¡°The wind feels different at this size!¡± he said. ¡°And I can feel the gravity more!¡±


    ¡°Play with it later,¡± Razorscale snapped, floating in the air himself. ¡°Test flight, everyone. From here to the driftwood at a reasonable speed. Go.¡±


    Twig was gone in a flash, followed by the two new experts in pixie dust flight, then Silver, who was visibly unsure what to do with their wings. Razorscale waited, staring at Stomp. She took a deep breath and went for it.


    Moving was okay. The worst part was moving off the cliff. It was horrifying. Stomp clenched every muscle and fixed her gaze on the distant tree roots, focusing on the twisted shapes in the moonlight instead of the empty void beneath her.


    Razorscale appeared silently at her side, also looking forward. His calm helped her settle a bit. They came in to hover over the log, where Stomp caught her breath and Razorscale pointed out the direction that the group would need to fly.


    Stomp¡¯s heartbeat was still speeding when Razorscale ordered them out across the sea. She tried to breathe deeply, and remember that the water was something she could swim in if need be. Not the same as falling from the carpet, or even flying over the cliff.


    It was still scary. Stomp made fists and went anyway.


    The water was black in the night, merging in the distance with the sky despite the moon¡¯s weak reflection. The stars were tiny and faint. Stomp missed her own eyes. She missed her nose as well, though the salt-and-fish aroma that she was picking up now wasn¡¯t any great loss. She thought about this as she flew, keeping her impaired vision on those flying in front of her instead of on the sea. Or the sky. Or the lack of an island in front of them yet.


    Is someone going to notice that we¡¯re flying the wrong way? she wondered, glancing at Razorscale. Do I have to be the one to point it out? He seems awfully confident, but a minotaur¡¯s never wrong about directions.


    To prove it to herself, she twisted to look back at the shoreline, certain that she would see at at an increasingly sharp angle.


    But it wasn¡¯t. The shore lay straight behind her, perfectly aligned.


    I was wrong. Stomp faltered, nearly dropping into the waves. Razorscale reached for her, a questioning expression on his face. Stomp shook her head numbly. She wouldn¡¯t fall. But she was wrong. If she¡¯d been in the lead, she would have gotten them all lost, and that knowledge shook her to her core.


    She was shivering from more than the night air when Silver pointed out the island that none of the humans could see yet. Razorscale reminded them all to be quiet. Stomp felt she couldn¡¯t be anything else.


    True enough, an island materialized out of the darkness ahead of them. Moonlight showed pale sandy beaches and dark forests, and nothing else. A regrettable glance down let Stomp catch sight of several sandbars passing underneath her like giant fish, silent and waiting to strike. She twitched, nearly biting her tongue with the effort of keeping in a startled shriek. Razorscale didn¡¯t comment. Stomp couldn¡¯t look him in the eye.


    When he was apparently sure that she wasn¡¯t about to be a problem, the dragon sped up to glide next to his apprentice. The two whispered as the island neared. Undoubtedly plans and observations and all manner of useful things. Stomp felt entirely useless. And scared, and tired. She wanted to be on the ground again, even if it was in enemy territory.


    Finally she got her wish. The dragons led the way silently to the beach, hovering over the pale sand and continuing their whispered conversation. No one was telling her not to, so Stomp landed heavily, and felt unspeakable relief. Sand got into her human boots immediately, but it was a small price to pay. She was on the ground again.


    None of the others bothered to land. Stomp quietly shook her head at them. Windmane she understood, but the others appeared to simply be children of the air, too good for solid ground.


    When Razorscale directed them to move forward, Stomp was forced to fly again just to keep up. But when the dragons called a halt, she immediately stood again. They repeated this pattern across the beach toward the forest, searching for who knew what. Stomp didn¡¯t care. She just wanted to walk instead.


    The next time she landed, her feet slid on something. Alarmed, she kicked at it and unearthed a rock the same white as the sand. Stomp looked around, ashamed, but no one had noticed. She glared at the rock and turned it over with her boot.


    It was a sculpture of a turtle. Part of one, anyway, the back half.


    What? That¡¯s a weird thing to find.


    Stomp was wondering what reason a human wizard could have for discarding it on the beach when she stepped aside and something crunched under the sand.


    She dug a toe in to unearth more stonework: a seagull this time. The wing had shattered under her weight. Stomp bent to pick it up, marveling at the detail that had gone into carving it. Even with human sight, she could see the lines of every feather. The beak was open and the eyes wide. Who would carve such an expression of alarm into a sculpture?


    Stomp looked around while the dragons debated something and the others waited. White sand was everywhere, studded with uneven shapes that she hadn¡¯t noticed on first glance.


    And the rest of the group, floating on pixie dust, didn¡¯t see them at all.


    Stomp reached for the nearest one. She turned it over and dropped it immediately, with a yelp she couldn¡¯t keep in.


    It was most of a face, wearing an expression of abject terror.


    While Razorscale shushed her and Windmane asked what was wrong, Stomp looked about the vast beach in a panic. Where had all this white sand come from? All the sandbars? All the broken pieces of animals, frozen in fear?


    Stomp whispered, ¡°Have you ever met a medusa?¡±


    Suddenly the others all looked as frightened as she felt.

 Chapter 12

    Windmane had never seen so much as a tailtip of a medusa, and she very much wanted to keep it that way. From what little she knew, they could usually be trusted not to murder anyone who offended them ¡ª usually! ¡ª but that was a lot to risk. They could kill with a look and a thought. The magic that turned their victims into stone was irreversible.


    Windmane turned to Razorscale, the unofficial alpha of the group. She hoped that he would either say they should leave, or that he had a some magical charm to keep them safe.


    He said neither. The dragon was inspecting the moonlit beach in silence, looking at the the chunks of statues that Windmane was just now seeing. She wondered if his temporarily-human eyes were any better than hers.


    ¡°These are likely fake,¡± he said. ¡°Meant to scare people off.¡±


    ¡°What if they¡¯re not?¡± Windmane demanded, floating higher on the pixie dust.


    ¡°Stay close.¡± Razorscale muttered something to his young apprentice, then glided toward the forest. Silver obligingly took the lead.


    Beak and Twig followed the two dragons, leaving Windmane alongside Stomp. Windmane cast an adrenaline-spiked glance at the minotaur, who looked just as wide-eyed as she felt.


    Stomp silently held out a hand. Windmane took it.


    Herd solidarity.


    Together they drifted after the others, all of them gliding silently on pixie dust with varying levels of fear. Windmane knew Razorscale was worried. He hadn¡¯t hidden it quickly enough.


    Anything that worried a dragon, even one so inconvenienced as this, was something that worried a centaur severely.


    Windmane held Stomp¡¯s hand tightly, eyes darting everywhere, and took deliberately deep breaths as the treeline approached. It was extremely dark between the trees.


    It was also, Windmane was startled to discover, hot.


    ¡°I know,¡± Razorscale whispered at the chorus of surprised noises. ¡°Hush. We¡¯re inside the area of a spell. I thought it did something else, but ¡­ Hush.¡±


    Windmane¡¯s hand was already sweaty in Stomp¡¯s. That alone wouldn¡¯t have been reason to drop it, but the spaces between the trees were narrow. The centaur exchanged looks with the minotaur, then separated into single file. Windmane went first, just so she didn¡¯t have to be last. She silently apologized for putting Stomp at the back of the herd. She said nothing out loud.


    Progress through the unexpectedly tropical forest was slow. Windmane didn¡¯t object to the caution, but the suspense was agonizing. She realized at one point that there were no sounds of nighttime creatures ¡ª no birds or frogs or whatever else usually lived in this kind of terrain. Just breeze shifting the leaves, and the occasional noise she or her companions made. It was beyond eerie.


    In the faint moonlight that filtered between the trees, Windmane watched the ground for more remains. That white sand was everywhere. At first it looked like the broken sculptures were only on the beach ¡ª a distraction, like Razorscale had said ¡ª but no, there was a bird. Mostly intact, its wings folded, laying on the ground where it had fallen from a branch at the moment it turned to stone.


    Windmane shuddered and fought the urge to run.


    Then came the tree heavy with fruit, a type Windmane was unfamiliar with. She smelled it before she saw it: a thick scent of fruit both ripe and rotting. When it finally came into view, Windmane stared at the dozens of fruits scattered around its base. Some had been eaten down to cores, then cast aside. Most hadn¡¯t been touched. Fuzzy mold was rampant on the fruit along the ground.


    Is this poisonous too? Windmane wondered, keeping a careful distance. Then she realized, No, there are just no scavengers alive to clean it up. That bird probably wanted some.


    Ahead of her, Silver paused to pick something up and show it to Razorscale. The two said nothing. When Silver set it down to move on, Windmane floated over to have a look.


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    She expected remains, or a weapon. She didn¡¯t expect art. Carved out of wood, sanded smooth but not varnished, it appeared to be a stylized figure of a medusa. Standard two-arm body, snake tail, many snakelets instead of hair. It was simplistic but lovely.


    Why is this here? Windmane stared as Stomp moved forward to join her. Are those toothmarks??


    With thoughts of breaking the silence to ask the dragons what they thought it meant, Windmane floated around the tree in pursuit. Razorscale was worming his way through a dense bush. Windmane didn¡¯t catch him in time to ask, and had to follow. She kept the figure clenched in one fist. The rustle of leaves was far too loud. Something would hear.


    On the other side of the bush, Windmane suddenly had new questions.


    Bright moonlight shone down on a clearing full of nameless shapes ¡ª her first assumption was large statues that had once been flesh, but they were more amorphous than that. It was only when she saw the slide that it all clicked into place.


    This was a playground. A playground with, she saw now, snake motifs carved into everything. Windmane spun to face the dragons, overshooting with the pixie dust and spending a panicked moment trying to orient herself while the rest of the group gathered in the clearing.


    ¡°What¡¯s all this?¡± Beak whispered.


    ¡°Aggravating,¡± Razorscale snapped. Windmane settled to find the dragon visibly angry. He worked his fingers like they were still tipped with claws, ready to rend someone specific. ¡°We are all in an immense, infuriating amount of danger.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Windmane squeaked.


    The dragon spoke in a hiss. ¡°This island is a gorgon hatchery. I cannot believe those wizards had the audacity to build a safehouse under this.¡±


    Twig floated over the slide. ¡°Why is that so dangerous? Babies aren¡¯t scary. I guess the adults are overprotective¡­¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s the babies,¡± Razorscale interrupted. ¡°They kill anything they see that isn¡¯t their own species. They haven¡¯t learned not to yet.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Twig said. He drifted back from the slide. ¡°Oh.¡±


    Windmane again thought of all the white sand, this time imagining the number of generations that had passed while it built up. An untold number of animals and people rendered to dust.


    She was shaking. It made her fly crooked. She realized she was still holding the wooden carving ¡­ which now appeared to be a teething toy. She dropped it and scrubbed her hands on her clothes.


    Beak pointed back toward the beach. ¡°Should we leave before they find us? Come back with some kind of protection?¡±


    Razorscale shook his head. ¡°No time. If we don¡¯t find the wizards before they leave, we may never get them all in once place again. We¡¯re lucky; the young gorgons should be asleep. We¡¯ll just have to be stealthy. Speaking of which¡ª¡± He turned to Silver. ¡°I¡¯m using one of the last invisibility charges. I¡¯ll be watching you. If you sense anything, point it out to me and I¡¯ll scout it. If they can¡¯t see me, or hear any footsteps, I should be safe.¡±


    Windmane whimpered. ¡°Should be?¡±


    He gave her a withering look. ¡°It¡¯s the best option we have. Now everyone be silent. Follow Silver toward the strongest source of magic.¡±


    With a flare of blue lines, he winked from sight.


    The small silver dragon pointed toward the exit from the clearing. Not waiting for confirmation, Silver undulated through the air, wings folded tight. They had clearly gotten the hang of the pixie dust.


    Windmane wasn¡¯t nearly as graceful as she exited the clearing, but at least she didn¡¯t knock anyone into a bush. The constant fear-shivers didn¡¯t help.


    In as much silence as they could manage, the group glided down a well-trodden forest path, not touching a thing. Windmane didn¡¯t like the idea of using actual paths, since that raised their odds of meeting someone, but it also lowered their chances of making noise. And theoretically the one dragon¡¯s keen senses would spot any dangers, which the other would assess. Theoretically.


    Windmane didn¡¯t much care for ¡°theoretically¡± right now.


    But Silver did hear something ¡ª or see, or smell, Windmane couldn¡¯t tell ¡ª and when that lithe silver form reared to backpedal, the rest of the group instantly shot back the way they had come. Silver hid behind a tree and pointed. Then they all waited for someone invisible and silent to tell them it was safe.


    Windmane was huddled behind a different tree with Stomp when she heard the faintest of whispers. Her racing heart clenched in terror before she realized Silver was whispering back. Razorscale had done his scouting. She caught what sounded like ¡°sleeping outside¡± and ¡°go around.¡±


    Silver swam back down the pathway in the opposite direction, waving the others along. A safer direction. Right.


    The path did curve around the area that they were avoiding, and the trees above let in enough light to see well. Windmane¡¯s heart rate showed signs of slowing just a hair.


    Then they reached the crossroads, and something shrieked.


    Windmane spun, trying to figure out which direction was safe to run. She saw them then: two small forms with wings ¡ª medusas didn¡¯t fly; what was this?


    Gargoyles, she realized. He said ¡°gorgon hatchery.¡± These are gorgons too. They can¡¯t do the stone magic?


    But they could scream loud enough to rouse whoever had been sleeping outside. Children¡¯s voices, then adult female, then male. Thunderous crashing through bushes.


    Then Windmane was fleeing in terror, and knew nothing other than speed and panic and trees flashing by. Cold air. Sand underneath. Water.


    Speed. Panic. Run.


    Run until limbs or lungs fail, whichever comes first.

 Chapter 13

    Twig huddled behind a tree while everyone else scattered. Pixie instincts said to hide, not to run. People could see you if you ran.


    Pixie instincts were less than helpful at human size. Especially human size that glittered with pixie dust.


    ¡°Mommy! Big things! One up there!¡±


    Oh no.


    As something large crashed through the bushes to join the two little whatevers, Twig launched away in search of a bigger tree. A female voice behind him shouted for him to stop. He made several sharp turns and hid behind a bush instead.


    So many voices were yelling. At least one was upset about the kids wandering off at night, but most were concerned with finding the intruders.


    Someone whispered, ¡°Fly upward, you idiot.¡±


    Twig jerked in surprise, then nodded when he recognized the invisible dragon. A sudden breeze said Razorscale had taken his own advice. With a glance up to plan his flight path, Twig zoomed between the trees.


    ¡°That way!¡± a male voice yelled. ¡°Climb on!¡±


    Oh no. Twig thought of the wings he¡¯d glimpsed. Big whatevers. He flew as fast as he could, dodging branches and shielding his head to plow through foliage. In moments he was out in the moonlit night, rising above the forest canopy alone.


    Alone, and very visible. He looked down as he flew. Nothing had breached the tree line yet, but he knew it wouldn¡¯t be long. Then what? There was nowhere to hide up here. What was Razorscale¡¯s plan?


    Twig spun around in an attempt to spot the invisible dragon. No luck, but he did see a human form that he recognized as Beak, spiraling upward in harpy fashion. She was watching the trees like she planned on attacking their pursuers with the talons she didn¡¯t have at the moment.


    Oh, there was the other dragon: Silver was high above everything, holding perfectly still and talking to someone.


    So that¡¯s where Razorscale went.


    ¡°Stop and talk, or die instantly!¡± shouted a voice from below. Leaves rustled as several other voices emerged to repeat the command.


    Twig looked down to see ungainly pairs: each set of wings laboring in the moonlight held up a two-legger as well as a snake-bodied hitchhiker. Those were medusas, all right. More than close enough to kill.


    ¡°We¡¯re sorry!¡± Twig shouted, zipping back and forth in agitation. ¡°Please don¡¯t kill us! Beak!¡± he twisted to yell upwards, ¡°Come apologize too!¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t mean you harm,¡± Beak called down from her perch in the sky. ¡°We didn¡¯t know you were here.¡±


    The pair in the lead flapped higher. ¡°How many of you are there?¡± asked the medusa.


    Even in the moonlight, Twig couldn¡¯t pretend those snakelets were normal hair. He shuddered. ¡°Five. Six?¡± He looked at Beak. ¡°Six total. We¡¯d all very much like to live, please.¡±


    At that point Silver dropped low enough to be noticed. ¡°Peaceful greetings,¡± they announced. ¡°Can we move this conversation to the ground? Perhaps the beach, far from your young ones?¡±


    They agreed to that. One winged duo led the way, while the rest of the increasingly numerous scary people watched. Twig flew politely. Beak and Silver did too. Twig could only assume that Razorscale was still nearby. Or maybe he wasn¡¯t; maybe the sneaky old dragon was using this as an opportunity to scout around unnoticed. Either way, Silver seemed pretty calm. Twig did his best to take confidence from that. He shivered as he passed from the tropical air onto the beach.


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    ¡°Where are the other three?¡± demanded a medusa as they landed. She unwrapped her tail from the flying whatever ¡ª gargoyle, that was the word! ¡ª and stood on her own. Her scales were black, or some other dark color that was near enough. Her skin was lighter, her head-snakes matched her tail, and her shirt nearly glowed in the moonlight. Even wearing what looked like a nightgown, she was very scary.


    And she was waiting for an answer. ¡°Um,¡± Twig said, looking around. ¡°They didn¡¯t¡ª?¡±


    ¡°They fled out to sea,¡± Silver said. ¡°Would you kindly send someone upward to see if you can spot them? They will look human, but are functioning on herd animal fear instincts. They fly quickly on pixie dust.¡±


    ¡°On it,¡± volunteered a slender gargoyle who looked fast. His skin was gray, with stonelike texture that Twig would have found fascinating under other circumstances. Now all that mattered was the fact that this guy had wings instead of death-vision. A tail too, though not a snakey one. Clawed feet of an entirely different sort from the harpies.


    Twig thought in the back of his mind that he would be fascinated later. When the threat of death-by-statue wasn¡¯t so near.


    The fast gargoyle gestured to two others, and they launched skyward in a tornado of wingbeats. When Twig opened his eyes and lowered his hands, they were up among the stars.


    ¡°So talk,¡± said the same medusa. ¡°Why are you here?¡±


    Twig looked to Silver.


    ¡°We¡¯re looking for some human wizards,¡± the dragon said. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you know of any living around here?¡±


    The medusa laughed once, though her head-snakes continued hissing in amusement. ¡°Child, nothing lives around here for long.¡±


    ¡°Yes, we came to that conclusion,¡± Silver admitted.


    Twig didn¡¯t know how the dragon kept from looking down at the vast expanse of sand that had once been living creatures. Twig himself shuffled his feet, then lifted off just an inch or so out of principle.


    Silver was still talking, the very spirit of humility. ¡°I beg your pardon, but is it possible that powerful magic-users could have escaped your notice? I don¡¯t presume to know the extent of your own magical abilities.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to go with no, that¡¯s not possible,¡± the medusa said. She exchanged glances with the gargoyle at her side. ¡°This island has been ours for generations, longer than the humans have claimed the land across the water. We know what we¡¯re about.¡±


    Silver started to insist, only to pause mid-word.


    What was that breeze? And whispering? Oh, right.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Silver continued smoothly, ¡°But the sixth member of our group has returned. He¡¯s invisible, and asks your permission to return to visibility without startling anyone.¡±


    ¡°Where is he now?¡± the lead medusa demanded.


    Silver extended both clawed hands to the side, indicating empty air. ¡°May he?¡±


    She nodded. ¡°He may.¡±


    Between one blink and the next, Razorscale¡¯s human form popped into view beside Silver, looking as regal and disagreeable as ever.


    ¡°Greetings,¡± he said. ¡°I have come to realize that we were given severely bad directions by a certain human of my acquaintance.¡±


    A different medusa chuckled. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t be the first time one of them pulled that trick.¡±


    The gargoyle who¡¯d spoken earlier frowned and added, ¡°Yes, and we don¡¯t appreciate them using our children as an assassination method.¡±


    Razorscale smiled like the dragon he was. ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to pass on the message.¡±


    ¡°You do that,¡± the first medusa said. ¡°There haven¡¯t been any recent incidents, since the merfolk laid claim to the waters between here and the harbor, but obviously someone needs reminding.¡±


    ¡°Human memories are short,¡± Razorscale declared. ¡°Like their lifespans and their intelligence.¡±


    The medusa gave him an odd look. ¡°Are you including yourself in that?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    Silver spoke up. ¡°None of our group are actually human. Those wizards we¡¯re hoping to find have a lot to answer for.¡±


    ¡°Really.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Silver said. ¡°My mentor here is a dragon. Twig¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a pixie!¡± Twig exclaimed, glad to have something to contribute. ¡°I got us all the pixie dust!¡±


    Beak raised a hand. ¡°Harpy.¡±


    ¡°And our missing two are a centaur and a minotaur,¡± Silver finished.


    Razorscale crossed his arms. ¡°Everything about this is a headache and an insult, and I have someone to bite in half now for the misdirections. I¡¯ll find his masters one way or another.¡±


    The gargoyle leaned in. ¡°Which masters are those?¡±


    Razorscale rattled off a handful of names that Twig had never heard before. The gargoyle consulted with the other gorgons.


    ¡°Yeah, pretty sure those are made up too,¡± he said. ¡°The powerful wizards in that nation all tend to be high-profile, and if we haven¡¯t heard of a single one of them, then it¡¯s a load of seaspray.¡±


    The lead medusa added, at Razorscale¡¯s skeptical expression, ¡°We keep in touch with the rest of society, even when raising kids out here. And our society is keeping a weather eye on theirs.¡±


    The dragon nodded. ¡°As you should.¡± He looked thoughtful. ¡°What else can you tell us about those powerful wizards? Any chance there¡¯s a group of five that have been looking to show off shapeshifting abilities they haven¡¯t earned?¡±


    The answer wasn¡¯t no. As the gorgons debated the likely identities of the wizards, Twig realized he wasn¡¯t afraid for his life anymore.


    He happily let the others handle the conversation. He had some fascinating people to stare at.


    Dragon feet, that¡¯s what they remind me of. The gargoyles have feet like Silver. Mostly. Though their faces are more standard two-legger, just with little horns, and¡­

 Chapter 14

    Now that the adrenaline had worn off, Beak¡¯s eyes were burning with exhaustion. She had no idea how late it was on this moonlit beach. Only the presence of the extremely dangerous residents kept her from complaining that it was time to sleep.


    As it was, she kept her silence in the face of all those staring eyes ¡ª gargoyle size, medusa size, and medusa-snake size. Far too many eyes. Far too dangerous, even during civil conversation like this.


    Beak tried to memorize the valuable information that the gorgons were imparting, though the names of high-ranking humans and human organizations were just a wash of syllables. The dragons would remember it fine. Beak was tired. She realized at one point that the pixie dust had worn off, and she couldn¡¯t work up the energy to care that she was standing in sand that had once been petrified creatures.


    She woke up a bit when a gargoyle appeared out of the night sky, backwinging to land in a mini-sandstorm.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± he said as Beak and the others lowered their hands from shielding their faces. ¡°One of your people reached the shore.¡±


    ¡°Which one?¡± Razorscale demanded. ¡°Did you talk with her?¡±


    ¡°Yes, the centaur,¡± said the gargoyle. ¡°When I convinced her that no one had been petrified, she said she would wait for the rest of you at the big tree.¡±


    Razorscale nodded. ¡°Good. Any sign of the minotaur?¡±


    ¡°Not that I saw,¡± he said, ¡°But I only went in the one direction. The other guys ought to be able to find her.¡±


    Beak searched the sky with her human eyes, but predictably saw nothing. She kept searching while the dragon turned the conversation back to the intricacies of the human stronghold. The moonlight was bright, as moonlight went, but the gargoyles all had some variation of stone-gray skin that blended in with shadows. Unless a flying one eclipsed the stars she was looking at, she would be unlikely to see him.


    Especially if he came from behind her. The second sandstorm caught her off guard, and she yelped.


    ¡°Sorry about that,¡± said the new arrival. ¡°One of your people flew straight out to sea, and got completely lost. Looks like she¡¯s out of floaty magic too, since she¡¯s riding driftwood like her life depends on it. Which it probably doesn¡¯t, but we did see some merfolk circling.¡±


    ¡°What!¡± Beak exclaimed. She reached for her pouch of pixie dust. ¡°Which direction? I¡¯ll show those fish thieves what¡¯s what.¡±


    The gargoyle pointed. ¡°My buddy¡¯s keeping on eye on the situation, but I¡¯m afraid the lady on the driftwood doesn¡¯t trust us enough to be carried back here.¡±


    Beak snorted, rubbing a pinch of pixie dust into her scalp. ¡°Merfolk below, gargoyles above, can¡¯t fly anymore, and her night vision is crap compared to what she¡¯s used to. Can¡¯t imagine why she wouldn¡¯t be in a trusting mood.¡± Without asking, Beak sprinkled dust over Twig, and moved on to the dragons.


    Razorscale held still for it. ¡°¡®Fish thieves¡¯?¡± he asked mildly.


    ¡°Have you ever met a mermaid?¡± Beak snapped. ¡°They are one of my town¡¯s biggest headaches. The orcs have at least two songs about clubbing them in the head, and one about losing an eye to their water daggers. They claim to be territorial, but anything wet is their territory if the fishing is good enough there.¡±


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    ¡°I see.¡±


    Beak dusted Silver too, then tied the bag up tight again. ¡°Right eggholes, all of them.¡± She looked to the circle of gorgons, who looked more amused than anything. ¡°Thank you for not killing us,¡± she said.


    ¡°Our pleasure,¡± replied the lead female. ¡°Good luck, and please don¡¯t come back.¡±


    ¡°We won¡¯t.¡± Beak turned to the gargoyle, already lifting off the sand. ¡°Lead the way.¡±


    He nodded once and launched into the air with mighty wingbeats that scattered sand far below. Beak kept pace easily, only glancing back once to make sure Twig and the dragons were following. They were.


    The gargoyle banked to fly across the island, heading out to sea as promised. He flew quickly. Pixie dust let Beak and the others match him without effort. Beak scanned the darkness ahead of her as they flew, watching the moon¡¯s reflection on the water.


    She spotted the other gargoyle first, circling above a particular spot. Beak sped up when she made out the shape of a log with someone clinging to it.


    That¡¯s some driftwood all right, and those are the glowspots of deep-sea troublemakers at that end. Not on my watch.


    Beak dove toward the log, letting loose with the ear-splitting screech of a harpy come to battle. The glowspots in the water scattered as she swooped past.


    ¡°That¡¯s right, run away!¡± she yelled, turning for another pass. ¡°You leave her alone!¡±


    Stomp was sitting up on the log, looking unharmed. Good. The gargoyle was just now catching up, joining his friend in circling the scene. Beak dove at the log again, shrieking for the merfolk¡¯s sake. The glowspots were nowhere in evidence.


    Then they all surfaced at once, flinging water daggers that Beak had to spin to dodge. Razorscale shouted at her.


    ¡°Stay back!¡± he said. ¡°Congratulations, you¡¯ve made it worse!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve made it worse?¡± Beak demanded. ¡°They should know when to leave!¡±


    Razorscale hovered in the air. ¡°They were towing the log to shore,¡± he claimed, pointing at one of the gargoyles. ¡°He was watching.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Beak shook her head. ¡°They probably have a cave to trap prisoners in close to shore.¡±


    ¡°These are not the merfolk that you feud with back home,¡± the dragon insisted. ¡°All they see is a human stuck out at sea, not an enemy.¡±


    ¡°The medusa said they claim these waters, and don¡¯t let the humans pass! Humans are their enemies!¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know that,¡± Razorscale told her. ¡°Stand back. Farther.¡±


    Fuming, Beak slid backwards in the sky. No more water daggers flew towards her, though the sea was glittering with glowspots. Stomp was lying down on the log and covering her head.


    Razorscale directed Silver to play diplomat, for reasons that Beak wasn¡¯t interested in. The young dragon eased close enough to strike up a conversation, and greeted the untrustworthy fishtails.


    Again Silver was painfully polite, and it worked. The merfolk gave permission ¡ª permission, ha! ¡ª for pixie dust to be applied to Stomp. Razorscale hissed at Beak to behave herself. She glared at him, but flew in slowly with the bag.


    Stomp was wet, shivering, and wild-eyed. She didn¡¯t let go of the log until her dark hair was sparkling with dust. Beak had barely put the bag away before she was engulfed in a hug from desperate arms.


    ¡°There there,¡± Beak said, pretending this was a large and misshapen fledgeling. ¡°You¡¯re safe. Let¡¯s get you back to shore.¡± With some encouraging, Stomp pulled back enough for Beak to see where she was going, though the minotaur silently insisted on holding hands while they flew.


    Twig joined them to ask how Stomp was and talk her ear off about the gorgons. Razorscale bid the two gargoyles goodbye. Silver was around somewhere, flying silently.


    The merfolk were below, watching as they left. If Beak had had her proper harpy feet, she would have made a rude gesture at them, but she made do with hissing quietly then turning her back.


    Twig was still talking, and likely wouldn¡¯t stop. ¡°Windmane is by the big tree with our stuff,¡± he said to Stomp. ¡°We can trade your wet clothes for some blankets, and I bet Silver can start us a nice fire to dry them out next to. We can all go to sleep by a toasty warm fire; doesn¡¯t that sound nice? In the morning we can have other adventures in the human city, and track down the wizards, but tonight we¡¯ll sleep.¡±


    Beak couldn¡¯t wait. Only the damp from the hug, along with the leftover adrenaline, kept her from taking a long blink into the sea.

 Chapter 15

    The night on the shore was unpleasant, but Razorscale had spent worse. The first to wake, he wasted no time in rousing his apprentice and getting the handful of non-dragons ready to move. They were groggy and slow with the exception of Twig, and the pixie¡¯s manic chatterbox nature wasn¡¯t an improvement over the grumbling of the others.


    There was no food left from the day before, which made the grumbling worse. Once Windmane had applied some pixie dust, she flew up to sample the grass by the roadside, and declare it barely edible with human taste buds. Stomp and Twig climbed up to try it too, while Beak reached for her own pixie dust with words about going fishing.


    ¡°There will be food in the city,¡± Razorscale snapped. ¡°We are wasting time. Everyone grab your things and let¡¯s move.¡±


    They grumbled some more, but fell in line. The centaur and minotaur each snatched up handfuls of grass to eat on the way. Razorscale made a face at the idea. Even with a human digestive system, which could supposedly handle plants, he would never. Judging by Beak¡¯s expression, she agreed.


    At Razorscale¡¯s directions, the group resumed the awkward high-speed arrangement they¡¯d had before. Once the apprentice was airborne with the others in pursuit, Razorscale activated his speed charm and outpaced them all. He¡¯d followed this road at night earlier, and knew the way now.


    There were other people on the road during the daytime, which hadn¡¯t been the case before, but none of them took up enough space to cause Razorscale more than a minor detour. Their reactions of surprise were irrelevant. No one got in his way or gave those in the sky trouble, and that was all that mattered.


    After dodging umpteen carts and pedestrians, mostly human, Razorscale finally saw the city walls ahead. As agreed, the group gathered at the side of the road to proceed on foot for the last stretch. There was some minor complaining, but none from the apprentice, who looked more tired than they would likely admit.


    ¡°Can I keep hovering?¡± asked Windmane. ¡°I still can¡¯t walk on two legs.¡±


    Razorscale sighed. ¡°Use the carpet,¡± he said. ¡°We want to be unremarkable. The humans have vehicles that fly, but I suspect that only their most powerful mages can move through the air on their own.¡±


    She didn¡¯t like it, but she took up a position on the flying carpet while the others stood. Razorscale urged them to pick up their share of the blanket bundles, then he led the way toward the human stronghold.


    The people they passed on the road didn¡¯t exclaim in shock now, though their gazes did linger. Razorscale was displeased to find that all of these humans were staring at his young apprentice. It didn¡¯t bode well for an anonymous entrance.


    He was right. The guards at the gate stopped them, while letting everyone else on the road pass. Razorscale waited with ill grace for the justification. These humans wore armor that was bedazzled with all manner of battle magics, but they clearly wielded none of their own.


    ¡°No dragons allowed in the city proper,¡± explained the shorter one. She addressed Razorscale, but pointed at his apprentice as if discussing a trained animal. ¡°Not without special dispensation.¡±


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    ¡°Why?¡± Razorscale demanded.


    ¡°They¡¯re too big,¡± the guard said. ¡°Knock things over. It was a problem in the past, so now there¡¯s a law.¡±


    ¡°Knock things over?¡± Razorscale repeated. ¡°You think any self-respecting dragon would be so clumsy?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t make the rules, sir. But you can¡¯t bring a dragon inside without permission, and I¡¯m afraid there¡¯s no loitering around the entrance either.¡±


    Razorscale showed his teeth. ¡°If you¡ª¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s just a baby dragon!¡± Stomp interrupted. ¡°It¡¯s very well-behaved. Look.¡± She scooped up the youngling in question, who had the grace to keep quiet and play along. That was an ungainly armful for a human, but Stomp was muscled in minotaur fashion. She held the dragon without wavering. ¡°I promise it won¡¯t cause any trouble; we¡¯re only here for a short visit. What if we use a leash? It¡¯s as tame as a dog, I swear.¡±


    Razorscale scowled and held his tongue while the minotaur convinced the pair of humans that the talented magician older than they were was in fact a helpless toddler. The indignity of it all.


    But it worked. The guards agreed to make an exception ¡°Just this once,¡± and said they¡¯d hold her responsible if the young dragon ended up setting something on fire or eating things it shouldn¡¯t. Stomp agreed.


    Razorscale held his silence until they were about to be allowed in, and the guards took issue with the flying carpet.


    ¡°You¡¯ll need a permit for that.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Razorscale said. ¡°Do these knock things over too?¡±


    ¡°What about pixie dust instead?¡± Windmane asked quickly.


    ¡°Do you have some with you?¡± the guard asked sharply. ¡°That¡¯s banned outright.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Windmane said. ¡°There was ¡­ somebody selling it down the road a ways.¡± She pointed back the way they had come, with what seemed to Razorscale like an unconvincing expression.


    ¡°We¡¯ll look into it. Now please dismount. If you don¡¯t have a permit, we can hold the carpet for safekeeping while you¡¯re here.¡±


    ¡°But I can¡¯t walk!¡± Windmane wailed.


    ¡°She really can¡¯t!¡± Stomp added.


    Razorscale jabbed a finger toward the carpet. ¡°That is a mobility aid,¡± he spat. ¡°No one will be taking flights of fancy or knocking things over. Now if you don¡¯t mind, we have business to attend to, and I¡¯m sure you have much better things to be doing than harassing people for absurd reasons.¡± Fed up, he drew on a charm and flared his mage lines. ¡°We will see you again soon when we leave. Good day.¡±


    Like the previous pair had, these guards fell all over themselves to apologize at the sight. Razorscale just glared and led his group through the gates. The guards were whispering as soon as he passed, mage lines once again faded from sight. He knew full well that the humans wouldn¡¯t keep this encounter to themselves. He would have to move quickly.


    Thankfully the roads were wide and well-labeled, with a clear route toward the river. Razorscale set a quick pace in that direction.


    He heard his apprentice say, ¡°I appreciate your quick thinking, but I feel extremely insulted. Please put me down.¡±


    ¡°Yes of course, sorry,¡± Stomp replied.


    Then the apprentice was trotting by Razorscale¡¯s side, dignified as ever. The two dragons exchanged a nod of These people are all idiots, and continued in silence.


    The river was easy to find, the direction was easy to figure out, and the trash-strewn park was right where Razorscale had left it. So was the shop. But it was closed.


    Razorscale glared at the ¡°closed for renovations¡± sign, and felt something akin to regret. Which is to say, he was angry that this was partly his fault.


    ¡°Wow,¡± Twig said, face pressed to a crack in the boarded-up windows. ¡°Somebody really wrecked the place.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Razorscale said. ¡°Someone did.¡± He looked around with a silent snarl, thinking over what little he knew of the missing human. Not enough to find him.


    Beak was the one to ask: ¡°Now what?¡±


    Razorscale checked the street sign. ¡°Same plan, different route. We locate our enemies.¡±


    ¡°And how do we do that?¡±


    ¡°By locating theirs,¡± Razorscale said. ¡°This way. According to the gorgons, there should be a rival faction in the southeast part of town.¡±


    ¡°Can we get food first?¡± asked Windmane, while Twig agreed heartily.


    Razorscale sighed. ¡°Yes, fine, we¡¯ll get food on the way.¡±

 Chapter 16

    Stomp was proud of herself for convincing the guards that Silver was harmless. None of the others would have been able to pick up a dragon that size, and the ruse likely wouldn¡¯t have worked without a display of docility. Thankfully Silver had acted the part.


    Now the young dragon was parading around calmly, and Stomp was keeping a wary eye out for trouble. People stared. None got close or said anything loud enough for Stomp¡¯s (useless, human) ears to hear, but they watched the dragon go by. They also paid attention to the flying carpet, though not nearly as much.


    All I can do is be ready, Stomp thought. If people make an issue of it, maybe we can have Silver ride on the carpet too. That would probably look more contained.


    Poor Silver. This has got to be humiliating.


    As Stomp watched, the dragon¡¯s snout lifted, smelling the air. Stomp worried, then heard the report of ¡°Food, that way.¡± Razorscale turned on his heel and led the group in the new direction.


    Oh good. I hope it¡¯s not too much of a detour. We were going southeast before, so now we¡¯re¡ª Oh, I can¡¯t tell! Stomp¡¯s mood lifted briefly before plunging again. It was bad enough trying to keep watch when she couldn¡¯t see behind her. She didn¡¯t need another reminder that her minotaurian sense of direction was gone.


    The smell of food was soon enough to distract her. Burnt meat predominated, which was off-putting to say the least, but the sweet scent of fruits and wilting leaves were there too. Something was probably edible.


    When the row of food stalls came into view, both Twig and Windmane exclaimed in delight. Before they could rush off, Razorscale put up a commanding hand.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have money,¡± the dragon reminded them.


    ¡°I have some,¡± piped up Beak, reaching for her bag, but Razorscale shook his head.


    ¡°Don¡¯t use it yet,¡± he said. ¡°You lot make yourselves comfortable on those benches ¡ª roll up the carpet; we don¡¯t want to attract more attention than we have to ¡ª and I¡¯ll go have a word with one of the vendors. Figure out what you want to eat. I¡¯ll be right back.¡±


    Stomp moved to go with the others, but Razorscale stopped her.


    ¡°The next time we need to intimidate someone,¡± he told her, ¡±You get to be the muscle. These humans make such a fuss over magic use that I¡¯d be wise to keep that hidden when possible. So be prepared.¡±


    He gave her a sharp look and strode away, leaving Stomp to have a private crisis there in the road.


    He wants me to act like a bull? she thought, But I¡¯m not a bull! I couldn¡¯t¡ª That¡¯s not who I am!


    She managed to stumble after the rest of the group, and join them as Windmane was moving from carpet to bench. The centaur picked up on her distress right away.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    ¡°He wants me to be the bull,¡± she blurted.


    ¡°What?¡± Windmane at least seemed to recognize the significance of this, even if Twig looked confused. Beak and Silver wore blank expressions.


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    Stomp explained. ¡°He said I should be the one to intimidate people, instead of using his magic. That I should ¡®be the muscle.¡¯ That¡¯s a bull¡¯s job, to scare off threats!¡±


    Beak cocked her head, birdlike. ¡°Why is that a problem?¡±


    ¡°Because I¡¯m not a bull!¡± Stomp said, louder than she meant to. ¡°Does he expect me to change my whole gender identity just so he can keep the magic secret?¡±


    Windmane reached out a hand. ¡°I don¡¯t think he knows what he¡¯s asking. Dragons don¡¯t work like that. I think they¡¯re basically all bulls.¡±


    Beak snorted. ¡°That would explain a lot.¡±


    Silver stepped away, and Stomp belatedly realized that Razorscale was coming back.


    Windmane caught the dragon¡¯s attention. ¡°Hey, we have a concern,¡± she said.


    ¡°It can wait,¡± Razorscale declared, before turning to Silver with instructions to get out the spare rocks that hadn¡¯t been made into glow-charms yet.


    Stomp waited uneasily while the young dragon enchanted a pair of them to do something else. She didn¡¯t catch what. Her attention was elsewhere.


    When the charms were ready, Razorscale went right back to the stall-owner he¡¯d been talking to. It was one of the few stalls without a line. Stomp didn¡¯t register what it sold.


    Razorscale returned with money. ¡°I hope you¡¯ve all figured out what you want.¡±


    Windmane spoke first. ¡°About what you said to Stomp¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a bull!¡± Stomp burst out. ¡°I can¡¯t be the one to protect the herd!¡±


    Razorscale shook his head, enunciating clearly. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not who I am! I know things must work differently for dragons, but I just can¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°Just.¡± Razorscale closed his eyes. ¡°Just stand behind me and look strong. That is all I am asking. You don¡¯t even have to talk, just glare.¡±


    ¡°But I¡¯m¡ª¡±


    Razorscale opened his eyes wide. ¡°I don¡¯t care! Just do your part to keep people from bothering us, so we can get this whole mess over with!¡±


    Stomp tried to think of an objection that wasn¡¯t repeating what she¡¯d already said. ¡°But¡ª¡±


    Windmane put a gentle hand on her arm. ¡°He¡¯ll be the bull,¡± she said gently. ¡°You just have to stand with him and look mad.¡±


    Stomp laughed helplessly, spreading her hands.


    Razorscale apparently considered the matter settled, since he looked at Twig directly and asked, ¡°Who¡¯s ready for food?¡±


    ¡°Hooray, food!¡± The pixie leapt to his feet. ¡°They¡¯re doing something with apples over there that looks amazing!¡±


    Windmane distracted Stomp from her worries by requesting help in getting back onto the carpet. Stomp obliged while Razorscale gave directions for everyone to meet back at the same spot once they¡¯d acquired food. He gave a portion of the money to Windmane (¡°For you plant-eaters¡±), then went off with Silver and Beak to find meat.


    Stomp was happy to let Twig lead the way. The pixie had apparently already noticed several places with appealing food. Well, appealing to him, anyway. The apples turned out to be dipped in caramel, which just sounded to Stomp like tooth problems waiting to happen.


    Other stalls had cups of sliced fruit, toasted skewers of vegetables, and small tubs of leaves in white sauce. The three not-humans got some of everything, and went back to the benches to try it. Twig was munching happily on his caramel apple on the way.


    ¡°Well, this is vile,¡± Windmane declared after her first bite of the salad. ¡°I don¡¯t know what they made that white stuff out of, but it does not belong on lettuce.¡±


    ¡°I dunno, I kind of like it,¡± Twig said, to no one¡¯s surprise.


    Stomp picked out a leaf for an experimental nibble. The sauce was unpleasant, though not as bad as Windmane made it out to be. She shrugged.


    Windmane noticed her silence. ¡°It¡¯ll be okay,¡± she said gently.


    Twig spoke around another mouthful of salad. ¡°I¡¯ll help! I can be scary too when I want to be. Look at this scowl.¡± The face he made was so comical that Stomp laughed despite herself.


    ¡°Yeah, we can all be intimidating together!¡± Windmane said. ¡°I¡¯ll glare down at people from above, Twig can do whatever that was, and you can just cross your arms and show off your muscles. It¡¯ll be a herd effort.¡±


    ¡°Yeah!¡± Twig agreed. ¡°Beak would probably have fun flapping her arms at people like wings.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Windmane said, ¡°Maybe. She¡¯s good at glaring, at least. And with Razorscale threatening to bite everybody, nobody else will even need to talk!¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Stomp said with a weak smile. ¡°That does make it better.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re in this together,¡± Windmane told her. ¡°Hey, looks like they¡¯re on their way back. Let¡¯s see if any of these fruits are edible before those weirdos stink up the air with more fish.¡±

 Chapter 17

    Windmane had known that it was easier to be brave for the sake of a herdmate than for herself, and she was reminded of it now. When Razorscale directed the group to follow him, Windmane squared her shoulders and urged the flying carpet to a more visible height along the road.


    Stomp was walking behind Razorscale as promised. She looked ready to try to intimidate people. Windmane was there to make sure she didn''t have to do it alone.


    Twig also crowded close, wearing that foolish expression that he clearly thought was fierce. Silver trotted at Razorscale''s side like before. Only Beak hung back, and when Razorscale noticed the awkward huddle forming behind him, he told everyone to give him some space and stop being such ¡°absolute children.¡±


    Windmane was pretty sure that they''d all be children to someone his age no matter what they did, but she backed off. There was no one to threaten yet anyway.


    The gorgons had apparently said to look for people from a short list of professions as likely members of the anti-mage faction. It was an odd list, including things like doctors and cartwrights, and Windmane didn''t pretend to understand it.


    They found the cartwrights first. It was a small shop, with a large open space full of vehicles in various states of repair. Some were the regular wheeled sort while others flew in much the same way the carpet did.


    An angry voice as they approached answered the question of why the people here might not like mages.


    ¡°Three weeks for that?¡± a man yelled from inside the shop. ¡°You could fix it right now! Just take off the cover and bend it straight!¡±


    A long-suffering woman¡¯s voice answered. ¡°Removing the cover would break the enchantment. We have to send it out to the magical repairs department for deactivation before we can touch it, and then again for re-activation.¡±


    ¡°Just break the enchantment, then have them re-enchant it!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a different department, and their backlog is months instead of weeks. You¡¯re lucky the accident didn¡¯t crack the sigil. A fresh enchantment would be far more expensive.¡±


    The man swore while Razorscale brought the group to a halt outside. Windmane was perfectly happy waiting to go in.


    ¡°This is all a racket,¡± the man was complaining. Various sounds told Windmane that he was paying anyway.


    ¡°You¡¯ll have to take it up with the magical side of things,¡± the woman said. ¡°I don¡¯t like it any more than you do.¡±


    The man scoffed and grumbled, but finished the transaction without any further complaints. He stormed out of the shop a few moments later, red-faced and scowling. The group waiting to the side didn¡¯t get so much as a glance.


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    Razorscale caught the door and strode inside before any other cranky humans could. Windmane and the others followed. The room was suddenly very full. It held a front door, a back door, chairs, and a counter with a visibly surprised human woman on the other side. She hid that well after the first blink, instead giving off an impression of middle-aged competence that matched the gray braid and durable clothes.


    ¡°What can I do for you?¡± the woman asked with a quick look at Silver.


    ¡°We have a common enemy,¡± Razorscale declared. ¡°A group of at least five powerful mages.¡±


    ¡°Why are they my enemies?¡± the woman asked, taken aback.


    ¡°You tell me. Can you help us find them?¡±


    ¡°Sir, this is a repair shop,¡± the woman told him. ¡°I can get your cart fixed up if you have one, but that¡¯s it.¡±


    Razorscale leaned forward, showing teeth again. ¡°I am asking for information. Where do we find mages who have just tested out a powerful new spell?¡±


    The woman was looking suspicious. ¡°I am sure I wouldn¡¯t know. Please take your private grudges elsewhere, sir.¡±


    Windmane edged higher while Stomp took a half-step forward. Twig made faces while Beak stayed by the door. They all glowered at the human.


    ¡°Is this a setup?¡± she exclaimed. ¡°Why are you even here? Go bother the mages!¡±


    Razorscale hissed, ¡°Tell us where they are, and we will.¡±


    ¡°How the hash would I know?¡±


    Windmane spread her arms and yelled. ¡°You live here! You hate them too! Please, I can¡¯t walk because of them! They¡¯ve done us all wrong! Just tell us where the powerful magicians live!¡±


    There was a silence while the repairwoman appeared to be wondering why this was happening to her.


    Beak spoke up calmly. ¡°We¡¯re not from around here. Where would you go if you wanted to find a mage, but didn¡¯t know which?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, the royal court?¡± the woman said in exasperation. ¡°Wait outside and hope you don¡¯t get hassled by the guards?¡±


    Razorscale stood up straight. ¡°Where and when.¡±


    The woman gave directions that apparently made sense to the dragon, since he nodded once and turned to leave. ¡°Thank you. Farewell.¡±


    Windmane gave a silent wave as the others filed out. The perplexed look on the woman¡¯s face remained until Windmane brought up the rear and closed the door behind herself.


    Outside, Razorscale was bent over whispering with Silver, probably to keep up the charade of the ¡°unintelligent pet.¡± Twig was jabbering excitedly at Beak. Stomp stood alone, looking rattled. Windmane moved to comfort her.


    A stranger got there first.


    ¡°Hey, shady lady, are you lost? You can come home with me.¡± The pale man spoke with the cockiness of pickup artists everywhere, and the confidence of someone who had no idea he had just given the gravest of insults.


    ¡°Lost?¡± Stomp asked, turning her head slowly. Windmane watched her stand taller, flare her nostrils in rage, and flex the muscles she had been hesitant to use a moment earlier.


    The man seemed to be realizing his error. ¡°Uh, I just haven¡¯t seen you around here before,¡± he tried.


    ¡°LOST?!¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s not lost!¡± Windmane cut in, hovering by Stomp¡¯s shoulder and looming over the man. ¡°Now kick off!¡±


    The man took in the sight of the pair of them, with the others turning in his direction, and he bolted down the road. He nearly tripped someone in the process.


    Windmane put a hand on Stomp¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Good job.¡±


    Stomp snorted and shook her head as if flapping ears she didn¡¯t have. ¡°I better not see him again,¡± she said.


    ¡°I¡¯ll kick him in the head if you want,¡± Windmane volunteered, shifting position. ¡°I may not be able to use these right, but I can kick with the best of them, especially at head height!¡±


    ¡°Enough of that,¡± Razorscale announced. ¡°We have a high society party to infiltrate.¡±

 Chapter 18

    Twig was delighted to see the human nation¡¯s most glittery elite, but disappointed to learn that he would only see them from a distance. Razorscale would be doing the invisibility thing again. How boring. The fact that this was the most sensible approach hardly mattered.


    ¡°I will be able to recognize the magical signature of the mage who stole my shape,¡± the dragon said as they stood outside the fence. ¡°Possibly also the others involved in the spell, but definitely that one. Pixie dust, please.¡± He held out a hand for Beak¡¯s bag.


    She gave it to him, and didn¡¯t complain when he used some, then kept it.


    ¡°Wait for me there,¡± Razorscale commanded, pointing at a grassy area with picnic tables and fancy shrubbery. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have to tell you not to stray, but I will anyway. Be there when I return. It¡¯s possible that all five of our enemies are here, and we can move ahead with the counterspell. We¡¯ll have to be fast.¡±


    Twig nodded, and so did the others. Silver was playing the part of the tame pet, curled up on the flying carpet next to Windmane, and only blinked. Razorscale gave everyone his signature stern look, then walked behind a potted plant and disappeared.


    ¡°All right,¡± Beak sighed, ¡°Let¡¯s go find somewhere to sit.¡± She crossed the street as the sun dipped below the rooftops and mage-lights began to flick on.


    ¡°Aw, can¡¯t we watch from here just a little?¡± Twig asked. ¡°Look at how fancy some of these people are!¡± The entrance to the building made of soaring spires was far from the fence, but even with this much open space between them, Twig could see a beautiful array of colors and frills, trailing skirts and brocade coats with magically-enhanced lights around everyone.


    Windmane said in a loud whisper, ¡°The guards won¡¯t like it.¡± She jerked an elbow sideways.


    Twig looked in that direction to see a pair of humans in shiny armor that he hadn¡¯t noticed before. They stood at attention, staring straight forward, but for all Twig knew, their helmets were enchanted with circular vision.


    ¡°C¡¯mon, you can see the sparkles from over there,¡± Stomp said.


    ¡°Aw,¡± Twig repeated, allowing himself to be led away from the fence. ¡°But did you see the dark eyeshields some of them are wearing? What¡¯s that about?¡±


    ¡°Beats me,¡± the minotaur admitted.


    Silver stuck their head over the edge of the carpet. ¡°Those are filters for ambient magical energy,¡± the dragon murmured. ¡°Some mages are overly sensitive, and need them to prevent headaches. Given the number I see over there, it has clearly become a status symbol. I doubt anyone in that crowd is so talented.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Twig said. He looked back as they left the road for the grass. There were a scattered handful of non-humans, and none of them wore the things. Then a new delegation appeared, and Twig stopped in his tracks. He clambered onto a picnic table to see better. ¡°Look, unicorns!¡±


    ¡°Get down,¡± Beak hissed at him.


    ¡°They have pixie attendants!¡± Twig exclaimed as he recognized the flight patterns of the glowing shapes that danced around the unicorns.


    ¡°No one cares,¡± Beak said. ¡°Get down.¡±


    Stomp stepped onto the bench and lifted Twig by the armpits, dragging him groundward. ¡°No drawing attention,¡± she reminded him as she bumped his awkward human shoes against the table.


    ¡°But I could talk to them!¡± Twig insisted. ¡°See if they know anything!¡±


    ¡°No,¡± the pair chorused.


    ¡°They¡¯re too far away,¡± Beak said. ¡°And they have no reason to tell you anything. You¡¯re a human, remember?¡±


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    Stomp set the not-pixie back on his feet. He crossed his arms and sniffed. ¡°Am not.¡±


    ¡°Just pick a seat, all right? Lie on the ground if you want to. Stare at a plant.¡± Beak waved at a cluster of flowering bushes near the tables. ¡°See how many weird bugs you can find at this time of night.¡±


    She was probably expecting Twig to pout some more, but she underestimated the pixie¡¯s curiosity when it came to new things.


    ¡°Ooh, do you think the bugs here glow?¡± Twig asked.


    ¡°Go find out. Just stay close.¡±


    Twig did. He absently registered the sound of the others getting settled at a table with the carpet rolled up and tucked away. That was neither here nor there. The important thing was the bugs. What kind of creatures lived in this well-tended human land, where magic was hoarded by the rich? Did the gardeners get any? The soil clearly wouldn¡¯t be growing any skyfruit, but what did it smell like?


    Twig spent a happy few minutes puttering away among the bushes, inspecting dirt and branches and whatever scant insect life he could find. Everything turned out to be disappointingly mundane, but it was still an interesting search.


    He finally surfaced a few bushes away, turning in place to get his bearings. He spotted the table as a cluster of pixies flew overhead, moving away from the party.


    Twig stumbled out of the bush and flagged them down. ¡°Hey! Hey pixies!¡±


    They paused mid-flight.


    Beak and Stomp were already fighting their way free of the picnic table seats.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay; I¡¯m a pixie too!¡± Twig whisper-shouted. ¡°Do you know where to find the human magicians who are stealing people¡¯s shapes?¡±


    The pixies didn¡¯t come closer, but they did draw together in discussion. Twig hoped they would have good information.


    Beak reached him first. ¡°What is wrong with you?¡± she hissed, attempting to clamp a hand over his mouth. She was still used to harpy wrist positioning, and it took a moment to stop him from talking.


    ¡°Five of them ¡ª mph!¡±


    Stomp caught up and helped Beak tow him back toward the table. ¡°Don¡¯t mind him,¡± she said to the pixies. ¡°He¡¯s had his horns knocked loose. I mean, uh¡­¡± She searched for an appropriately human turn of phrase while Twig struggled indignantly. ¡°His head¡¯s dented. Sorry to bother you.¡±


    The pixies held their position in the sky long enough to see the pair strong-arm Twig into sitting at the table with Windmane, then they flitted off into the sky. Most went in the direction they¡¯d originally been heading. Some went back towards the party. Very quickly.


    Twig imagined those ones would be enlisting the help of the unicorns inside. What a worthy adventure this would be for them! Helping strangers who had been wronged by mysterious villains!


    He opened his mouth to say so, but the expression on Beak¡¯s face made him pause. That was a death glare worthy of Razorscale. Twig slowly closed his mouth again.


    I don¡¯t think she even saw which way they went, he thought. Guess I¡¯ll get to be smug when they show up and surprise her.


    He was half right.


    Silver was the first to notice, and the young dragon¡¯s scrambling under the table alerted Twig that something was happening. He realized at the same time as the others, but his exclamation was the only cheerful one.


    ¡°The unicorns are coming!¡± he said as he stood.


    The pair of elegant creatures that glided across the road were luminous in every sense of the word. Glowing with silver magic, hooves dipped in gold, manes enchanted into shimmering rainbows, horns glittering with visible static from the power they held. A dozen pixies attended each, awaiting their every whim: comb a mane, open a door, or carry a message.


    One was giving directions now, fluttering close to the unicorn on the left. Twig squinted his human eyes against all the glowing things to make out a tiny arm pointing towards him.


    ¡°Hello!¡± Twig said, while Beak and Stomp made worried noises and Windmane tried to stand up with them. They didn¡¯t get farther than that. A flash of light from the unicorn¡¯s horn was brighter than everything else. Twig blinked and shielded his eyes. It didn¡¯t help. And everything was quieter now; what was that about?


    Oh, the ground was farther away suddenly. He was being carried.


    So were the others; if Twig turned his head as far as it would go, he could see the other three not-humans behind him. Two were glaring at him. Windmane just looked panicky. No sign of Silver.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure they¡¯re going to help us!¡± Twig said.


    ¡°Are you,¡± Beak said flatly. ¡°How great for you.¡±


    Twig gave up and turned to see where they were going. His eyes were adjusting to all the light. Outside the glow, streetlights passed and pixies flew. After a little more twisting in place, Twig got a look at the pair of unicorns strolling sedately along under the ball of magic. They looked nearly identical in their regal posture and colorful presentation. The only difference he could make out was the teeth of the one in charge of the spell: they were visibly long and sharp.


    A phrase popped into Twig¡¯s head, overheard years ago from a fellow pixie who had spent time working with such illustrious magic-users as this. The conversation had been about the many ways of telling a magician¡¯s status. Unicorns, the other pixie had said, were known to wear toothcaps of precious stones. The teeth that Twig saw now looked just like the ones he¡¯d heard described.


    ¡°Diamond-capped fangs fit to bite a god.¡±


    That probably wasn¡¯t a bad sign, right?

 Chapter 19

    Razorscale floated invisibly through the door, above a vacuous cluster of human nobles. He would have described them as the most egotistical ashpiles that he had seen all year, if he had not also seen the people who entered before them. And after.


    If this tittering herd of frills and useless glow-magics was the human kingdom¡¯s excuse for a ruling class, Razorscale was very unimpressed. And he hadn¡¯t expected much.


    These are worse than the humans back home, he thought in scorn as he drifted through the vast empty space in the ballroom. There was a dais with an empty throne at one end, and nobles with visible mage lines gossiping everywhere. I knew I was out of the loop on this side of the continent, but I see I¡¯m not missing much.


    When he¡¯d teleported from home to the Dryad Forest Festival, he¡¯d been burdened by wares, responsibilities, and an apprentice ¡ª no time for exploring the area. Now was the first time he thought about the fact without regrets about the missed opportunity.


    Everyone in the room was a fop. Showing off their wealth, bragging loudly, and pretending to have more magical skill than they actually did. There were a few representatives of other races, which was promising at first glance, but they proved to blend in with the pompous humans. A trio of merfolk floated in suspended water bubbles, talking to a human about food. Something that was probably a gnome under all the lace and ruffles sneered about vocal magic. A cluster of taller humans without mage lines turned out to be elves; Razorscale had no patience for species that looked so similar to each other. He knew full well the differences. He also didn¡¯t care. Especially when these representatives weren¡¯t doing a thing to impress him.


    No one in the room so much as blinked as the invisible dragon passed above their heads. They all continued chatting while Razorscale searched their auras for the one he¡¯d sensed briefly through the spell.


    ¡°I expect the coronation contest will involve healing magics,¡± said one snobbish human. Razorscale kept moving.


    ¡°My sources tell me that the contest will be something unexpected,¡± said another.


    A third laughed about peasants thinking much of themselves: ¡°You¡¯d think they¡¯d stop trying to compete! They should realize that no amount of charms and toys will elevate them to our level.¡±


    Razorscale started to move on, then paused when the reply to that comment made him wonder.


    ¡°Maybe they think if they use an amulet often enough, they¡¯ll get powers of their own!¡± The speaker chuckled disdainfully.


    Do the humans here NOT all have the ability to learn magic? Razorscale thought. When did that happen?


    His pondering was interrupted by the arrival of several newcomers who caught his attention immediately. Four-legged, and radiating magic.


    Unicorns. Razorscale instinctively tried to flare his wings in a threat display, and was irked at the reminder that he didn¡¯t have them. Instead he froze in place to see what the top-tier magic users would do.


    Spot him immediately, that¡¯s what they¡¯d do. And say nothing about it. Razorscale held still while all four of them looked directly at him. They were surely having a lively discussion through private telepathy, but no one would be listening in on that. Even the pixies fluttering about their heads showed no sign of noticing.


    After a long moment, the lead unicorn turned away and the others followed suit. Razorscale breathed easily again.


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    It¡¯s a power play, he realized. They know something that the rest of this room doesn¡¯t, and they¡¯re not about to give it up immediately. They¡¯ll be watching me.


    The question was, what would they do with this information? Razorscale decided he should speed up his search, then make himself scarce. There was no guessing what kind of trap the unicorns might set for him as a means of increasing their own reputation. Catching an intruder here, an invisible one no less, would be noteworthy.


    Razorscale made sure not to cause any breeze or otherwise give the humans a reason to suspect his presence. He was confident now that the specific mage he sought was not here, but the other four might not be recognizable without close study. And more people arrived every few minutes. His quarry could yet appear. While he searched, he listened; among the vapid discussions lurked important details.


    Like that bit about the peasants not being able to wield magic on their own. Razorscale had met plenty of humans who¡¯d never learned, but he had been told when he was still fresh from the egg that the aggravating two-leggers all retained the capacity. That hardly made them rare among the intelligent races, of course. But the kind of trouble they could get up to with it did.


    Dragon history lessons covered the early days when many of the modern races arose, some splitting from their common ancestor and others created through purely magical means. Things were a mess back then, and humans were to blame for all of it. They kept coming up with ideas that no one had considered before ¡ª ideas that honestly didn¡¯t need to be considered ¡ª and they ran with them. Crazed children with power that was frankly beyond them. Razorscale had always been glad that he lived in the modern era, instead of the wild times.


    He hadn¡¯t been surprised that the mages behind this new shape-stealing spell were human. He¡¯d honestly expected nothing less.


    Another gem-bedecked noble spoke of magicless competitors in an upcoming contest. Razorscale wondered if his teachers had been mistaken ¡ª but he didn¡¯t wonder for long.


    There¡¯s no questioning dragon histories. Not compared to whatever records these fools have, short-lived impetuous creatures that they are. Do they not know their own history? I¡¯d say that¡¯s disappointing, but my opinion of them was already too low to be let down.


    A swirl of pixies caught his attention. They were moving with unseemly haste to rejoin the unicorns. Nearby humans glanced up in curiosity. When the pixies whispered something to the lead unicorn, two of the four immediately strode toward the entrance, prompting a quiet wave of murmurs among the nobility.


    The other unicorns weren¡¯t watching Razorscale anymore. He drifted over to a window to see where those two went.


    Out the door, down the walkway, across the street ¡­ to throw a containment field around the only people at a picnic table. And walk off with them.


    Razorscale swore silently but fiercely. He gave up on eavesdropping and flew toward the heavy door, flitting through before it shut behind more nobility.


    The breeze he left in his wake prompted several pretentious mages to remove their eyeshades and begin exclaiming about the energy source that could only be an invisible spy. As Razorscale left the room behind him, voices spoke up in equal parts alarm, outrage, and gossip. The nobles all blamed each other.


    Idiots, he thought. Idiots and ashpiles. The humans were the former, and unicorns the latter. They had interrupted his investigation before he¡¯d learned anything he could use. He hadn¡¯t even laid eyes on the mage who had hexed him, much less the whole group.


    And that aura just passing the guards looks familiar, he thought. Now that I¡¯m LEAVING. He raged at the unicorns for costing him this opportunity.


    And for kidnapping his own group of idiots. That too.


    But as angry as he was, he tempered it with caution, since he knew full well that he wasn¡¯t up to taking on a group of unicorns in his current state. He would have to be clever.


    I don¡¯t even know what they want with a handful of random humans. They could of course suspect that there is something inhuman about them, but the pixies were the ones to notice, and they¡¯re generally not up to that kind of detection magic. So either these pixies have had their abilities enhanced, or they simply overheard something. Either way, I can¡¯t guess what the unicorns want with my idiots.


    The procession of unicorns and captives wasn¡¯t subtle as they left the picnic grounds. Razorscale paused before haring off after them, and he checked the table for anything left behind.


    He found his apprentice in the shadows underneath. Razorscale let the breeze herald his arrival. ¡°Tell me what happened,¡± he said.


    The apprentice did, and the two dragons fell to planning.

 Chapter 20

    Stomp expected people on the street to object to the kidnapping. Surely someone would questions their captors, maybe call the guards over to make the two unicorns explain why they were towing a ball of light with four people inside.


    No one did. People looked, certainly, but every one of them kept well out of the way without so much as eye contact with the unicorns.


    After some honest thought, Stomp had to admit that she wouldn¡¯t dare start trouble with them either. On purpose, anyway. Twig had brought this trouble down on their heads despite Stomp and Beak¡¯s best efforts.


    The pixie was quiet now, thankfully. No one wanted to hear more optimistic jabbering about how this was a really benevolent abduction. Beak and Windmane were silent too, leaving Stomp to wonder where the group was being taken, and what horrible things were likely to happen there.


    A hotel, Stomp thought when she saw it. A fancy one. I think. The building was as high-class as would be expected in this part of town, with magical enhancements on everything from the shifting paint to the garden of illusory plants atop the flat roof. The fact that the building complex was single-story surprised Stomp, given her scant knowledge of most human hotels. But it was sprawling and well-kept, clearly meant for elite guests.


    The guards at the gate said nothing to the unicorns. The attendant who opened the doors was the same, as were the people at the front desk, and the handful of other servant-types that they passed on their way through the complex. No one was about to offend such important guests, even when they were hauling people away in a blatantly illegal manner.


    It is illegal here, right? I mean, I assume. Human laws are weird.


    When the unicorns approached the door to their suite, the pixie attendants rushed ahead to open it for them. The unicorns strutted in with all the ego in the world. The ball of captives floated behind them. Stomp had a burst of worry that she should have kicked up a fuss earlier, no matter what Twig said, but it was too late now. The door shut with a click.


    The suite was all open space and pale colors, with carpet that wouldn¡¯t dare show dirt, and windows open to a garden view. Cushioned sleep-nests were gathered in a far corner, with equally cushioned pixie perches along the walls. Small tables were scattered about with bowls of fruit and miniature fountains. The large wardrobe set out of the way had a discreet door on the side, so pixies could enter for digging through luggage out of sight. Clearly a setup made for these guests specifically.


    The glowball settled in the middle of the room, dimming until Stomp could feel carpet under her feet and barely detect the magic. She still couldn¡¯t move from the spot, though. And Twig was in front. Not ideal.


    The unicorn with the sparkly fangs stepped forward. =My pixies tell me,= she said without moving, =That you aren¡¯t truly human.=


    ¡°That¡¯s right!¡± Twig replied. ¡°I¡¯m a¡ª¡±


    Beak spoke over him. ¡°Twig! For once in your life, let someone else talk!¡±


    The pixie fell silent.


    The unicorn tilted her head in amusement. =No need for that,= she chided. =Let the boy talk.=


    ¡°Hey, I¡¯m an adult!¡± Twig said.


    ¡°Do NOT talk!¡± Beak shouted. ¡°Not ¡®til we know we can trust them!¡±


    =Careful,= the unicorn purred, her mental voice taking an edge. =One might take offense at that.=


    That was a line Stomp had heard before, spoken by more than one dangerous bull. ¡°Beak,¡± Stomp whispered fiercely. ¡°Let me talk to them.¡±


    The harpy exhaled. ¡°Fine. Twig, shut up.¡±


    Twig made an unhappy noise, but said nothing. Windmane was a silent and stressed presence to the side. Both unicorns were watching, and so were the many pixies dancing above.


    ¡°Apologies for all our sakes,¡± Stomp said to the lead unicorn, keeping her tone submissive. ¡°I¡¯m sure your reasons are excellent; we¡¯re just not privy to them.¡±


    The unicorn ignored the implied question. =Tell us of the magicians who cast the spell to change your species.=


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    Stomp hesitated. Was that a question that a friend of those mages would ask, or an enemy? Or something else? Impossible to be sure. Better take a neutral approach. And there was no point in denying it.


    ¡°We have never met them,¡± she said, ¡°Not that I know, at any rate. This was done from a distance, by surprise.¡±


    The unicorn flicked her shimmering ears in distaste. =Unwilling.=


    ¡°Yes.¡± Stomp left it at that. Both unicorns looked angry, though they masked it with poise.


    =Do you have any other knowledge of them?=


    ¡°Nothing concrete, I¡¯m afraid,¡± Stomp said. ¡°Just educated guesses that they are likely to be among this kingdom¡¯s elite. We thought we knew more, but it turned out to be lies.¡±


    At the unicorn¡¯s insistence, Stomp explained about the two humans who had activated the spell, and the other who had told them to find the casters on the gorgon island. She shared the false names and the possibly-real ones suggested by the gorgons.


    She didn¡¯t mention Razorscale or Silver. Maybe the unicorns wouldn¡¯t ask about the ¡°five¡± mages that Twig had mentioned. This was still an unknown situation, and any element of surprise could save their skins later.


    =Does anyone else know about this spell?= the unicorn asked.


    ¡°No one that we¡¯ve met seems to know how it works,¡± Stomp said slowly. ¡°But many people know that it happened.¡±


    =Did you tell them?= the unicorn accused, pointing with her horn.


    Stomp raised her hands placatingly. ¡°It happened at a public place,¡± she said. ¡°The Dryad Forest Festival. Many people saw.¡±


    The unicorn tossed her head in irritation, turning toward her companion. The companion grimaced with his own smaller fangs and said, =That¡¯s too many witnesses to eliminate.=


    Stomp¡¯s heart rate sped up. She tried not to show it. That bit of telepathy could have been private, but instead the unicorn chose to let the whole room hear. Intimidation tactics. Can¡¯t show fear.


    The other captives had their own thought processes, and all three of them objected out loud.


    ¡°What do you mean, eliminate?¡± demanded Windmane.


    ¡°Are you on their side?¡± Beak asked.


    Twig wailed, ¡°I thought you were going to help us!¡±


    Beak muttered, ¡°Told you so.¡±


    Stomp tried to whisper calming words. No one was listening.


    =Help you?= the lead unicorn asked as she stepped closed. =No, you will be helping US to track down the blasphemers who stole a spell core from us.=


    Beak snapped at her. ¡°It was your spellwork? Well, thanks for that!¡±


    Moving against the magic¡¯s resistance, Stomp got a hand over Beak¡¯s mouth and shushed her loudly. ¡°Let me talk!¡± she hissed.


    When the harpy held her silence, Stomp turned to face the unicorn who was glowering at the captives.


    ¡°I apologize again,¡± she said. ¡°We sympathize with your loss, and will be happy to aid you in bringing about justice. Our own goals are similar.¡±


    The second unicorn spoke up at that. =Are they?= he asked. =Are you not looking for a way to keep blaspheming on your own?=


    Stomp had to shake her head at that. ¡°Pardon?¡±


    The unicorn spoke slowly, with obvious scorn. =Changing one¡¯s shape is disgusting, distasteful, and unclean. We know all about you outsiders and your love for it.=


    Stomp spread her hands. ¡°None of us have a love for it. We want to be as we were before, with no further changes. This is massively unpleasant for us. If I¡¯m stuck like this, my herd might leave me behind, and I wouldn¡¯t blame them. And she¡ª¡± Stomp pointed at Windmane, who didn¡¯t disappoint.


    ¡°I can¡¯t WALK!¡±


    ¡°¡­She can¡¯t walk. We just want to go back to normal.¡±


    The unicorns considered that in silence, probably talking privately. Before they finished, Twig spoke up.


    ¡°If you hate it so much, why did you have a spell core for it?¡±


    Stomp grabbed for his arm while the pair of unicorns grew visibly darker with crackles of angry magic. The pixies all moved toward the walls, which made Stomp even more concerned.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about him!¡± she said desperately. ¡°He didn¡¯t mean any offense; he¡¯s an imbecile!¡±


    The lead unicorn¡¯s voice reverberated in her head. =Our spell core was for communication,= she said with audible fury. =A way to connect consciousnesses. Human magicians have perverted it, added their own workings and turned it into something vile.=


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± Stomp said. ¡°They have done you a great wrong.¡±


    =They will suffer for it.=


    ¡°As they should. How can we help?¡±


    Beak spoke up. ¡°And no killing us. Who knows what that would do to the spell?¡±


    The unicorns ignored her, to Stomp¡¯s relief. Maybe they had already considered that, or maybe they just wanted to look like they had.


    =The culprits will almost certainly be planning to use their blasphemous new ability to show off at the competition,= the leader said. =They will be infinitely harder to bring to justice if they win the throne. Since you cannot name them with certainty, maybe you can be bait for us.=


    Windmane squeaked, ¡°Bait?¡±


    ¡°Or,¡± Stomp said, revising her earlier thoughts, ¡°We can see if the fifth of us has located any of them yet. That¡¯s what we were doing when you found us.¡±


    =From a table in the dark?= asked the male unicorn.


    =Ah,= said the leader. =The one with invisibility magic. I wondered about that.=


    Stomp didn¡¯t ask how she knew. ¡°Yes, that was him. He was confident that he could spot the one who hexed him personally, and possibly the others as well.¡±


    Before anyone could broach the subject of how to find Razorscale, a knock sounded at the door. As if someone had been eavesdropping and waiting for just the right moment. Stomp thought that these quarters should have excellent sound insulation, but with this much magic flying around, she wasn¡¯t certain of anything now.


    A cadre of pixies separated to answer the door while the unicorns simply turned where they stood. The glowball of captivity was far enough toward the sleep-nests that Stomp couldn¡¯t see who waited in the hall. She saw pixies chatter, zipping over to whisper in the lead unicorn¡¯s ear.


    The unicorn laughed. =An apparently-human mage on a restricted transportation method, with a very illegal companion,= she repeated. =How fascinating. Do come in.=

 Chapter 21

    Beak strained against the magic holding her in place. If that was Razorscale and Silver outside the door, then there was about to be a confrontation between dragons and unicorns ¡ª unicorns with dramatic fangs, no less ¡ª and Beak knew enough about both races to avoid getting caught between them. But no luck.


    Razorscale¡¯s human form was awash with blue mage lines as he leapt off the flying carpet, and Silver bounded to the floor behind him in a blaze of fire. Beak was amazed to see the young dragon sporting flames along their back and wings, not breathed from their mouth.


    I was right! They can do more fire magic than they pretend! Beak was privately triumphant. Maybe I¡¯ll ask about it later. If there is a later.


    ¡°Give them back,¡± Razorscale demanded as the door shut.


    The lead unicorn replied with a smile in her voice. =Give what back, human?=


    Razorscale snarled and pointed at the captives. ¡°Them.¡±


    =So possessive!= the unicorn laughed. =Such a dragon. This must be an unpleasant day for you.=


    ¡°I¡¯m prepared to make it worse for you,¡± the dragon informed them.


    =Adorable,= the unicorn declared. =How about you tell us what you discovered at court, and let us get on with business.=


    ¡°All I discovered is that I had to leave right when one of my quarry was arriving,¡± Razorscale snapped. ¡°And that is your fault.¡±


    The unicorn made a sound of faux-sympathy. =Give us your memory so we can find them=


    ¡°Suck my cloaca.¡±


    The unicorn lowered her horn to shoot a flash of pure white magic at him. It splashed against an invisible barrier. Both dragons looked smug.


    Undeterred, the unicorn tilted her head toward the captives, and Beak felt the glowing magic turn staticky and painful. She winced. Twig and Windmane cried out, while Stomp grunted stoically.


    Razorscale didn¡¯t move. ¡°You don¡¯t know what it would do to the spell if you killed one.¡±


    =Neither do you,= the unicorn pointed out. =You¡¯d better let us access your memories if you don¡¯t want to find out together.=


    Razorscale looked at Silver and said one word: ¡°Fire.¡± Silver didn¡¯t even nod, just spread their wings and sent a curl of flame along the walls, encircling everyone.


    Beak¡¯s exclamation was lost in the general uproar. Captives were screaming, pixies were zipping by in panic (none touched by the flame, Beak noticed), and bolts of flame were flashing past to target the food dishes with precise aim. The unicorns were silent. They didn¡¯t even move until something else passed in a blur, and they both made sounds of affront.


    The pain of the magical bonds eased as the flames did. Beak caught her breath and looked up to see Razorscale appear in the center of the room, holding two shimmering strands of hair. Still moving with enhanced speed, he disappeared again to reappear beside Silver, who was the only thing on fire now. Aside from a few smoking apple stems.


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    At a head-toss from the lead unicorn, both stomped their hooves in unison. The wave of glittery magic that snapped across the floor almost hurt to look at. Beak was glad to be out of range in the glowball.


    It reached the dragons, and looked painful. Razorscale swore in High Draconic before popping upwards on pixie dust. Silver kicked a food dish off a pillar and perched there, still on fire, hissing like a wet cat.


    Another blur, and Razorscale had woven the hairs into a complicated knot. The significance was lost on Beak, but the unicorns¡¯ tense body language said something.


    ¡°Are you ready to speak civilly?¡± Razorscale asked.


    =Are you ready to volunteer a memory?= the unicorn shot back. =It doesn¡¯t have to be yours.=


    ¡°That¡¯s a ¡®no,¡¯ then.¡±


    =Perhaps one of your pets will let us see into their mind.= The magic started to hurt again. =So that we can all move forward with our goals.=


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°YES FINE; WILL YOU STOP IT ALREADY?¡± Beak shouted. The pain stopped immediately. ¡°You could have just asked us! What the crap-claw is wrong with you?¡±


    Stomp whispered about caution, while the unicorns glared and Razorscale smiled broadly.


    ¡°Many things,¡± the dragon said.


    =Just for that, we won¡¯t be gentle,= said the lead unicorn.


    That was all the warning Beak got before she was shot back in time to the festival. It was clearly a memory; she was a passenger in her head, unable to change the motions she was going through. And the two unicorns were there observing with her ¡ª two more minds than her head was meant to hold. It was incredibly uncomfortable. That just made the bad memory worse, while the wings and clawed feet she missed dearly moved without her say-so.


    The harpies were packing up early, since last-minute purchases of even the highest-quality building materials were unlikely. Beak was checking a bag of mortar for leaks, holding the brown sack up with her feet (oh, how she missed those), when she caught sight of the unexpected magic. A line of red-gold light twining through the air like a curious snake, prompting approval from some viewers and confusion from others.


    Beak dropped the bag and mantled in alarm, puffing up every feather at an instinct she couldn¡¯t name. The thing was coming closer. Deeply unsettled, Beak left the bag where it had fallen and hopped behind the tent, ready to wait until this ill-advised magic display was over.


    It found her. When the reflected light on the ground started turning red, she jerked back and flapped in panic, but too late. Red-gold light curved around the corner and leapt for her face.


    The flailing and flapping that came next was embarrassing, more so the second time with added witnesses. The light was gone, and the magic appeared to be, but Beak-the-observor heard faint mutterings from the two unicorns about the magical signature and the spell¡¯s makeup. It meant nothing to her. All she could do was wait through the awkward minute or so between the other harpies asking what had happened and her past self having an answer for them.


    She¡¯d lost consciousness the first time. She found now that it was for the better. Being awake while her wings shrank into useless arms and claws softened into nubs was the kind of experience that would haunt her dreams.


    At least it doesn¡¯t hurt, Beak thought shakily. This has to be the end of the memory, right? Her past self was at the discovery-and-denial stage, which she remembered lasting quite a while.


    Thankfully, the unicorns had seen what they wanted to see. Small mercies. Their mental voices made a decisive noise, then reality popped like a bubble.


    Beak blinked. She was back in the glowball, being held upright when she would have liked to curl up like a hatchling. Stomp was asking if she was okay. Beak managed a weak affirmative.


    =We¡¯ve told our compatriots back at court what to keep an eye out for,= the lead unicorn was saying to Razorscale. =If you¡¯ll just describe the aura you saw, then we can take it from here=


    ¡°And we¡¯re back to ¡®no,¡¯¡± the dragon replied.


    =If you MUST insist, you can accompany us while your pets stay in our care.=


    ¡°Also no.¡±


    The back-and-forth kept up while Beak mentally got her feathers on straight and was able to tell Stomp honestly that she was fine. The dragon had almost gotten the lead unicorn to agree to leave the group at the picnic tables again when the unicorns perked up simultaneously.


    =Good news,= the leader said. =There is a minotaur at court, when none were invited. Our compatriots say he appeared in the middle of the room via magic, and is demonstrating his strength by lifting several human women at once.=


    Stomp growled. ¡°I¡¯m gonna rip his horns off.¡±

 Chapter 22

    Twig was excited. This was exciting! They knew where one of the bad people was. Granted, he was surrounded by some of the most powerful magic-users in the nation, but still. It was a start. And the unicorns weren¡¯t being mean anymore! Not as much, anyway. They still had Twig and his friends caught, but at least they were only bickering with Razorscale instead of hurting them now.


    ¡°We need to hurry,¡± the dragon was saying, gesturing with one human arm. ¡°He could leave at any time!¡±


    =Our two compatriots are already there,= the scary unicorn reminded him, diamond fangs flashing in the light. =And you should go nowhere near the place after being so clumsy about your exit.=


    Razorscale bared his human teeth in a grimace that was probably supposed to be threatening. He argued some more. Twig tried to think of a solution.


    What could he do? Not much while stuck in this magical sticky-trap, but the unicorns would surely let him go soon. Then he could ¡­ what? He didn¡¯t have his wings, so he couldn¡¯t even fly there to listen in. Windmane still had pixie dust in her bag, but¡­


    The pixie attendants fluttering about the unicorns caught his attention. They could do everything he usually could. Probably more, if the unicorns weren¡¯t stingy with their magic. They could¡­


    ¡°We can spy on his house!¡± Twig exclaimed. Heads turned in his direction. ¡°If we know who he is, the pixies can sneak in and look around.¡± He tried to point, though the sticky magic made it difficult. ¡°We do know his name, right?¡±


    Everyone looked at the fangy unicorn. Who still hadn¡¯t introduced herself, now that Twig thought about it. Rude.


    =Our compatriots are discovering that now,= she said smoothly. =The conversation at court is all about him.=


    ¡°Good,¡± Razorscale said. ¡°See if they can get the names of his allies as well.¡±


    =Obviously.=


    ¡°Then we can go to his house!¡± Twig said.


    No one answered him directly.


    ¡°It might not be a bad idea to search his place of power,¡± Razorscale said to the unicorn. ¡°He will likely return there, and we can question him.¡±


    =And search his workspace for record of the offending spell,= the unicorn agreed.


    ¡°Send the pixies first!¡± Twig insisted. ¡°We¡¯re great at sneaking in through windows and things.¡±


    They ignored him, but they ended up following his suggestion anyway. Twig beamed from his place in the sticky-trap while the unicorns relayed the information they were getting from their compatriots.


    Apparently the pixies at the party were being helpful too, showering the fake minotaur with compliments until he answered their questions about his workspace. The unicorns at the party were close enough to pick up his surface thoughts of what it looked like (and where it was) without him ever noticing. Sneaky. Probably illegal, actually. But all in the name of Catching The Bad People who had done much worse. So yay for the unicorns and their creepy mind-reading!


    When they had the information they needed, the unicorns argued with Razorscale some more about who would go where. Razorscale won. The unicorns released the sticky trap ¡ª hooray! Twig could scratch his nose again! ¡ª and Razorscale directed the magic carpet to Windmane. The pixies arrowed out through a window, on a mission. Twig cheered as they left.


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    He smiled as the whole group exited the room under their own power, following the pixies by foot. Or maybe they were going back to the party; Twig couldn¡¯t keep up with the arguing. But he trusted Razorscale to get them on the right track one way or another.


    The night sky outside was darker than before, though this ritzy neighborhood was lit up like a festival. It smelled nice too. Twig didn¡¯t mind a walk.


    Windmane and Stomp were muttering behind him: plans on how to handle the fake minotaur, by the sound of it. Assuming the guy was still in that shape when they saw him.


    ¡°What if he gets drunk at the party?¡± Windmane asked. ¡°Will that make him easier to taunt?¡±


    ¡°Possibly,¡± Stomp said. ¡°Probably. But we don¡¯t know how long he¡¯ll be a bull.¡±


    ¡°Will he still be drunk when he changes back?¡±


    ¡°I have no idea. I don¡¯t know how the spell handles that.¡±


    They were both silent. Twig stopped pretending he wasn¡¯t listening, and turned to look. Both were staring pointedly at the magic-users who did understand the spell, none of whom were paying attention to anyone¡¯s conversation but their own.


    The unicorns stopped talking suddenly. Then the boss said, =The pixies have been stopped by a ward on the house.=


    In the time it took Twig to say ¡°Well that¡¯s not fair,¡± the unicorns had cast a new glowy magic around the entire group, including themselves.


    =It¡¯s quicker this way,= the unicorn said.


    The whole thing lifted off the ground without feeling like it was moving at all, which Twig found impressive. Then the world below flashed sideways. Between one blink and another, they were there.


    ¡°That was great!¡± Twig said. ¡°Can we do it again? How do you make it feel like we¡¯re not moving?¡± Even now, as the ground approached at a casual pace, it felt like he was holding still.


    The magic dissipated as everyone¡¯s feet touched down. The unicorns were ignoring Twig again, and he supposed he didn¡¯t blame them this time, since there was a cluster of agitated pixies waiting to talk to them.


    They couldn¡¯t get in, the pixies explained. The sprawling mansion behind them ¡ª which Twig had to turn in place to see all of ¡ª was warded to the highest degree.


    But the unicorns were talented to an even higher degree! They took up a position aiming their horns at the house, and Twig prepared for a magic show.


    He waited. And waited some more.


    When he opened his mouth to ask how long it would be, the lead unicorn broke into a spate of cursing that was frankly shocking.


    ¡°Do you need me to do it?¡± Razorscale asked smugly. ¡°Oh wait, I¡¯m incapacitated at the moment. Apprentice, come show these unicorns how to break a ward.¡±


    Twig took a step back at the amount of fury crackling off the two unicorns as Silver quietly stepped in front of them. The young dragon focused and ¡­ waited.


    Twig looked from face to face for an answer.


    ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± Silver admitted. ¡°It¡¯s not a matter of power; it¡¯s the type of ward he¡¯s using. It reacts to my aura¡¯s resonance and counters it.¡±


    =Yes,= said the unicorn. =Yes it does.=


    ¡°What if you worked together?¡± Twig suggested. When they all turned to glare at him, he continued. ¡°Your auras are pretty different. It probably can¡¯t counter both at once.¡±


    The dragons and unicorns glared at each other instead. Twig didn¡¯t know why they weren¡¯t getting on with it already; it was the perfect solution.


    ¡°It would work,¡± Razorscale finally said.


    =Of course it would work,= the unicorn snapped back.


    ¡°I won¡¯t tell anyone if you won¡¯t.¡±


    =Fine.=


    With a swish of her sparkling mane, the unicorn flounced forward to stand beside Silver. Razorscale and the other unicorn joined them.


    Then they did an impressive amount of standing there, while the pixies spread out in a pattern that looked like it meant something. Twig admired the formation while he waited. That was some good wing control to hold so still.


    Then white light flashed in a silent explosion that was over before Twig had finished covering his eyes.


    =He won¡¯t be alerted,= the unicorn said. =I tied off his alarm thread in a loop.=


    ¡°Yes, I saw that,¡± Razorscale said. Where another person might have added a compliment on a job well done, he simply said, ¡°If you missed any on the inside, that¡¯s on you.¡±


    The unicorn bared her fangs at him as she walked toward the house. He returned the gesture and kept pace.


    ¡°Are they going to be like this the whole time?¡± Twig said aloud.


    ¡°Yes,¡± chorused Stomp and Windmane.


    ¡°They already forgot we¡¯re here,¡± Beak said, moving after them. ¡°Better hurry if you don¡¯t want to be left outside.¡±


    Twig definitely didn¡¯t want to be left outside. The forests that surrounded the rich human¡¯s house had been planted in rows. Unspeakably creepy. Who knew what kind of equally creepy things patrolled them for intruders?


    He hop-skipped forward and grabbed onto the corner of Windmane¡¯s carpet for good measure.


    The paving stones rung hollowly under his feet on the long walk to the door. Razorscale was already arguing with the unicorns about how best to break it down.

 Chapter 23

    Razorscale let the unicorns think they won the debate about the door, when really he¡¯d decided it wasn¡¯t worth the time to convince them. And since they were the ones doing the magic, it would again be their fault if they somehow set off an alert.


    He almost hoped they would. But as he stood by with his apprentice and the four idiots ¡ª yes, there they were ¡ª the two unicorns touched horns to the various power points in the door, and it swung open silently. The stronghold of the human magician was theirs to ransack.


    ¡°This way,¡± Razorscale said as he pushed past them. They would know as well as he did which direction the scent of magic and bad decisions was coming from, but it brought him joy to go first.


    The unicorns didn¡¯t object out loud. He knew they were swishing sparkly tails in irritation behind him. He didn¡¯t look.


    Motion down the hallway proved to be an enchanted statue, carrying linens and ignoring the intruders because it hadn¡¯t been told not to. The place was silent, with no voices of living servants to be heard. Razorscale shook his head and followed the magic.


    While the human who lived here surely thought the route to his workroom was hidden in a most clever way, he was wrong. ¡°Clever¡± to a human who¡¯d been practicing magic for a few decades was laughable to a dragon who had been a master for much longer, and to however old those unicorns were. Razorscale didn¡¯t care. He led the procession through secret passageways and illuminated tunnels and one extremely pretentious tube in the middle of a pond. The water was full of magically-enhanced fish that glowed. They probably tasted terrible.


    Razorscale was thinking stray thoughts about the humiliating way humans caught fish ¡ª letting the creatures feel like real predators catching a wriggly mouthful of prey, only to be hauled painfully out of their world to die slowly; such a disgraceful practice compared to catching them like prey and being done with it ¡ª then the final doorway opened into a room that stank of magic. He focused.


    =This child needs filters,= said the lead unicorn.


    ¡°Among other things,¡± Razorscale agreed. The room was smaller than he¡¯d expected, given the excessive size of the house. Bookshelves lined the walls, surrounding one table covered in writing materials and another littered with vials, jars, and various tools for mixing spell components. A cabinet with a stasis field held those components, next to a wash station equipped with both a water faucet and an antimagic field. It was too close to the cabinet. Idiot human.


    The other door to the room was open, with a view of a stone-lined room that sported more than one blast mark on the walls. A testing chamber. With the door left open. Idiot human.


    But then, if the man had been in the habit of thinking things through, Razorscale wouldn¡¯t be here now, searching for records of an illegal spell and with no inclination to be gentle about it.


    The unicorns were already at the writing table, staring at the books that flipped open obediently. They weren¡¯t even bothering to ask the pixies to turn the pages for them. Razorscale expected to hear pages tear any second now with the way they were throwing their magic around.


    The pixies were skimming the bookshelves, but they probably didn¡¯t know what to look for. Razorscale started to cast a comprehension spell, then stopped when he was reminded yet again of his limited capacity at the moment.


    ¡°Apprentice,¡± he said. ¡°Cast a knowledge seek for unicorns, shape changing, and dragons, in that order.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Mentor.¡± The youngster did as instructed while the unicorns tore through the contents of the table, and the hangers-on wandered around. ¡°You four, don¡¯t touch anything,¡± Razorscale said. ¡°You won¡¯t see any traps until it¡¯s too late.¡±


    They agreed readily enough. While the apprentice¡¯s spell canvassed the room, Razorscale checked the contents of the cabinet. Unimpressive; mostly herbs and minerals. Not even an enchanted fish for taste-testing.


    ¡°Results, Mentor,¡± the apprentice announced. ¡°Would you like me to stack them?¡±


    ¡°Just point them out. We don¡¯t have to be careful.¡±


    So the apprentice indicated which books held references to the select topics, and Razorscale threw them into piles on the floor. Pixies looked them over. Razorscale didn¡¯t snap at them to get out of his way, but then he also didn¡¯t take care where he threw the books, either. It was their job to dodge.


    In the end, both the unicorns and the dragons turned up useful things. Most of the human¡¯s current notes were out on the table, though a notebook of ¡°Masterwork Spells¡± was in a place of honor on a bookshelf. In the spirit of grudging cooperativity, the unicorns shared what they had discovered, while Razorscale and his apprentice did the same.


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    There was no doubt that this human mage was one of the five who had cast the spell. He¡¯d targeted Stomp, and had apparently focused on minotaurs from the start.


    =The original spell core required something of the person that you wished to contact,= the lead unicorn said. An invisible gust of power disdainfully scattered the stack of drawings to the floor. =Clearly this was his best attempt.= They were hand-drawn pictures of minotaurs, some sketchy and others lovingly rendered. It was clear that the human had a thing for muscles.


    Stomp stood by the door, scowling. She picked up one picture that had drifted toward her, an exaggerated portrait of an overmuscled bull. She crushed it with a snort. Windmane put a hand on her shoulder.


    ¡°We can burn all these,¡± Razorscale said. He took the Masterwork notebook from his apprentice and flipped through it a second time. Pathetic. He tore out the page that named the other spellcasters and how they fit into the spell, then tossed the book onto the table. ¡°And this.¡±


    Windmane spoke up. ¡°Won¡¯t you need it for evidence? To prove they did it?¡±


    =Prove it to whom?= the lead unicorn asked. She touched her horn to the table, and the entire surface burst into glittery blue flames. The group by the door let out various yelps, though Razorscale didn¡¯t flinch. =We are the authorities. Human law-keepers are irrelevant.=


    ¡°Unless they¡¯re complicit,¡± Razorscale pointed out. He scooped another book off the floor, the one with the unsettling uses for dragon scales and tossed it into the blaze. ¡°Then they¡¯re in trouble too.¡±


    =Make no mistake,= the unicorn said. =We are here to wipe all traces of this spell from human knowledge, so that no one attempts it again. The perpetrators have already spread word that they succeeded, and witnesses saw you transform, so Plan A is out. We will have to settle for destroying the instructions and instilling the proper amount of fear about consequences for anyone who tries to reconstruct it from scratch.=


    ¡°First we catch them,¡± Razorscale said. ¡°Then we reverse the spell. Then we¡¯ll see who gets eaten first.¡±


    The various prey species by the door seemed uneasy at that, but that wasn¡¯t his problem.


    The lead unicorn pulled her head back in the way that meant her compatriots had told her something unpleasant. =The minotaur is leaving court,= she reported. =But he isn¡¯t coming here.=


    When Razorscale pressed for details, he got a description of the very drunk human in the minotaur¡¯s body laughing his way outside in the company of multiple human women. None were taking care to be quiet about the nobleman¡¯s party they were headed for.


    The other unicorns couldn¡¯t follow without raising suspicion; they hadn¡¯t been invited. Their pixies flitted about in the company of others, though they would be noticed if they strayed too far.


    ¡°We can cage him later,¡± Razorscale pointed out. ¡°He¡¯ll likely come back here by tomorrow. There¡¯s no point in following, not when we can search out a different target now.¡± He held up the list.


    =Show me that,= the unicorn demanded. Razorscale did, taking care to keep a good grip on it. The unicorn just read the page carefully, then nodded and turned away. =We¡¯ll want to leave surveillance before we go.=


    ¡°Let my apprentice handle that,¡± Razorscale said in sudden inspiration. ¡°Why don¡¯t you and I work on something different.¡±


    =What?= She sounded rightly suspicious.


    ¡°Something to hamstring this fool,¡± Razorscale told her. ¡°We tie his place of power to someone else.¡±


    =Oh, I like that.= Her smile was sharp. =Who did you have in mind?=


    Razorscale called over his shoulder. ¡°Twig, I need your blood.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± the pixie asked. ¡°Uh, I need it more?¡±


    ¡°Not all of it, you dunce. Come here.¡±


    Twig made his way hesitantly across the floor while Razorscale exchanged looks with the unicorn. Human magic took a lot of thinking to use. A lot of concentration, and focus, and one might even say intellect. Short of tying it to one of those fish, Twig was the best candidate for Least Likely To Actually Use This.


    Before getting started, Razorscale made sure that the apprentice remembered the runes for distance charms. He needn¡¯t have worried. The youngster had already decided which corner of the room would be the best spot. Razorscale directed Stomp to push the table that wasn¡¯t still smoldering over so the apprentice could reach, then he returned the the task at hand.


    He couldn¡¯t do much magic directly right now, but the human form actually provided an advantage for once. Razorscale could function as the focus for the unicorns to work their magic through. They grasped the idea immediately, and nicked Twig¡¯s arm for a targeting sample before he realized it was happening. Two waiting pixies smeared blood on a focusing crystal that they¡¯d just washed at the antimagic station, and the spell began. In a gratifyingly short amount of time, the three magic-users were working in tandem, with Razorscale guiding and them ripping the lines of force away at the roots.


    He hoped it hurt the distant human. If the fellow was drunk and distracted, he might not notice. But Razorscale hoped it hurt.


    Twig was babbling, though he always did that, and as long as he was still standing there, Razorscale could ignore him. The connection settled into place against the anxious pixie¡¯s aura as if it had been there from the start. Razorscale smiled fiercely.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Twig said, looking at his hands. ¡°That feels ¡­ better, somehow? It¡¯s not magic like I¡¯m used to, I mean I still look like a dead thing without any glow ¡ª No offense!¡±


    ¡°You can stop talking now,¡± Razorscale told him. For once, Twig actually did it.


    Razorscale disentangled his magic from the unicorns with mixed feelings. He opened his mouth to say something that would fix that when he heard faint rhythmic thumps approaching.


    Like footsteps.


    Heavy footsteps.


    ¡°You did miss one!¡± Razorscale snarled. He yanked Twig further into the room, then slammed the door to the workroom shut on the view of the statue clomping down the walkway. Razorscale pointed at the unicorns. ¡°You fix it!¡±

 Chapter 24

    Stomp thought at first that the unicorns would use Twig¡¯s magical connection to de-power the moving statue, or maybe they¡¯d zap it themselves. But when the door swung open and Stomp edged sideways to assess the danger, she saw red.


    It was a statue of a minotaur. An unlikely-proportioned, ill-balanced, insulting caricature of what a real bull should be. Its horns curved the wrong way and its eyes were on the front of its head, instead of on the sides to give it a proper field of vision. It carried a club. A club. Like some uncoordinated cave troll.


    Stomp bellowed in rage and charged past the unicorns, straight toward the offensive thing. It raised its club with predictable slowness ¡ª made of the same gray stone as the rest of it ¡ª and brought it down where Stomp¡¯s head should have been. But she dodged, darting in close, and wrapped both hands around a horn. With a vicious kick to its knee, she used her bodyweight to send the top-heavy monstrosity crashing to the floor.


    Cracks appeared and a few smaller pieces snapped off, but the statue just glowed a bit and kept moving. Stomp scrambled to her feet and kicked it in the face. Her human boots were no match for hooves, though she made do, removing the ugly nose with a crunch.


    It swung the club at her, making her leap backwards against the wall. Before the statue could get to its feet or Stomp could start to worry, a blast of white light came from the direction of the unicorns, making it freeze in place.


    Stomp didn¡¯t question it. She brought her foot down on the outstretched arm, breaking off arm and club together. They shattered properly when they hit the floor.


    With another shout of fury, Stomp set about reducing the statue to rubble. It was now simply inert rock in a badly balanced shape, easily broken by human boots if there was somebody really willing behind them. Stomp was willing.


    She finally backed away, breathing hard and skidding slightly on the pebbles. She remembered somewhat belatedly that other people were watching. A look behind her showed staring faces with a range of expressions.


    =Well, that¡¯s one way to do it,= the lead unicorn said.


    ¡°Feel better?¡± asked Razorscale.


    Stomp drew herself upright and nodded once. ¡°Are there any more of those?¡± she asked, her voice mostly calm.


    Razorscale looked at the unicorn, who said =No. But we should be going.=


    Then began a predictable squabble over which of the other human magicians to chase after next. The list from the spell book included names and species, but not locations. Though with the unicorns¡¯ traveling magic, distance wouldn¡¯t be much of a factor. Danger level seemed to be the highest concern.


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    ¡°I think we¡¯re agreed that we should leave the dragon for last,¡± Razorscale said.


    =Pixies are irritatingly quick in a confrontation,= the lead unicorn said, ignoring him. =And harpies can fly too. We¡¯ve already started work on the minotaur. That leaves the centaur as best choice.=


    Razorscale argued for the harpy instead, though Stomp suspected that he was just being contrary. Finally he conceded the point with ¡°Oh, it hardly matters anyway. Let¡¯s get on with it.¡±


    Apparently the unicorns back in the ballroom were hard at work spying on thoughts to learn where the magicians lived, since they had this location ready when asked. With dismissive words about the lack of secondary wards on this house, the lead unicorn ordered Stomp and the others to gather close.


    Stomp had barely reached Windmane¡¯s side when another glow sphere flicked into place around them, and the world blew sideways.


    A different sprawling mansion appeared, its many windows reflecting lamplight like judgmental eyes. As the magic faded away, Stomp took in the number of statues scattered through the garden areas. She stepped closer to Windmane.


    ¡°This ward is open to guests,¡± Razorscale declared. ¡°What an idea. Let me do the talking.¡±


    He set off for the distant front door with the unicorns on either side of him, who looked just as likely to butt in and talk first. Stomp made sure Twig and Beak were there on the other side of Windmane¡¯s carpet, with Silver riding as a pet again, and the group hustled after.


    The unicorns did let Razorscale talk, to Stomp¡¯s surprise. Though they also loomed menacingly behind him, glaring at the human servant who answered the door. It was possible that there were two conversations happening at once, which was why the servant looked so scared. Stomp would have been scared too if threatening words appeared in her head while tooth-baring individuals stared her down.


    But the fear tactics didn¡¯t help; the servant swore up and down that the master was away. Other humans peered around corners from inside the house. Stomp assumed that the unicorns were checking all of their thoughts for confirmation.


    ¡°Where is he?¡± Razorscale demanded.


    ¡°Preparing for the coronation contest,¡± the servant said, trying to appear calm.


    ¡°Fine. Where?¡±


    ¡°We were not given that information. You are welcome to make an appointment to speak with him afterward, though be aware that his schedule is likely to be very full.¡±


    =You think he¡¯s going to win,= the unicorn said.


    ¡°Well yes, of course,¡± the servant said. ¡°The master and his circle are among the most talented in the land.¡±


    ¡°Sure they are,¡± Razorscale drawled. ¡°When is this contest, again?¡±


    ¡°The day after tomorrow. The ceremonies begin at noon, though early entertainment starts mid-morning. If you don¡¯t have a seat reserved, you¡¯ll want to get in when the doors open.¡±


    Stomp didn¡¯t hear Razorscale¡¯s response to that. Windmane had lowered the flying carpet to turn a panicked expression toward her.


    The centaur whispered, ¡°Is a coronation contest what I think it is? Are these people going to be in charge of the entire kingdom?¡±


    ¡°I hope not,¡± Stomp said.


    Twig crowded close. ¡°That sounds bad.¡±


    Beak agreed. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s bad.¡±


    Windmane¡¯s eyes were wide. ¡°How are we going to catch them if they¡¯re in charge of everything?¡±


    =They will not be,= the unicorn¡¯s voice cut through the chatter.


    Stomp turned to see the front door shutting, and the fearsome threesome facing her way.


    ¡°What are we going to do?¡± Windmane asked.


    =First we¡¯re going to gather up that idiot minotaur,= the unicorn said. =Then we¡¯ll make sure the five of them are never in charge of anything again.=


    The travel bubble lit the air, and whisked them away before Stomp could ask how.

 Chapter 25

    Windmane got her feet under herself ¡ª mentally, at least. She sat as straight as she could on the flying carpet while the glow of travel magic faded to show multiple wealthy-looking humans. This was the entrance to the court, far closer than they¡¯d dared come before. Windmane could only hope that the unicorns would speak for the raggedy assortment of ¡°humans¡± if anyone asked.


    =Our compatriots will meet us,= said the lead unicorn. =Be still.=


    Windmane froze in place. Then, as no one appeared to be taking an interest in her, she gently lowered the carpet until her head was level with Stomp¡¯s.


    ¡°If we have to lure him out,¡± she whispered, ¡°What would be the best way?¡±


    Stomp nodded once. ¡°Definitely by insulting his pride. The idea you had earlier about challenging his direction sense is a good one. He¡¯ll have to go outside to show off.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re sure he¡¯ll rise to the bait?¡± Windmane asked. ¡°He¡¯s only been a minotaur for a little while.¡±


    Stomp snorted. ¡°You saw his workroom. All those drawings, and the statue. He¡¯s put serious thought into being a minotaur.¡±


    ¡°Good point.¡±


    ¡°Anyway, the unicorns will probably just zap him with something,¡± Stomp continued. ¡°But if they want to avoid a scene, that¡¯s the way to go. Maybe one of the pixies can deliver the message as a dare, if we want to be really stealthy.¡±


    Windmane looked from Stomp to the unicorns and back. ¡°Do we want to be stealthy?¡±


    Stomp crossed her arms. ¡°If we have to.¡±


    The pixies overhead whirled in a dance of greeting as they were joined by others. Two unicorns followed them at a brisk pace on the ground, looking just as glittery as the first pair. These had gold-capped fangs. When they drew close, both bowed slightly to the one with diamond.


    Then they stood there staring at each other and talking silently while Windmane and the others waited with varying levels of grace. Razorscale was opening his mouth to say something when the lead unicorn finally spoke.


    =Gather close,= was all she said. The pixies moved in, then another glowsphere snapped into place.


    The house that appeared this time was smaller than the last, but it made up for it with multitudes of partying humans. Like the crowd at court, decorative magic use was everywhere, though these people didn¡¯t all have mage lines that were quite as prominent. And they were far louder, leaning out of windows, sprawling over benches, traipsing along the many staircases and walkways that decorated the grounds. A wall around the property was nearly invisible, merely a dense cloud of sparkles with a wrought-iron gate.


    A male human who was not partying stood behind that gate to greet newcomers. The lead unicorn made a beeline for him.


    When asked her name, the unicorn produced a sound that should have come from a musical instrument, not a throat. Windmane was intensely curious to see how the human would handle it.


    He opened the gate, stood aside, and announced, ¡°Please welcome Her Magnificence the Four-Chord Harmony, and attendants!¡±


    Oh, Windmane thought. I wonder if she goes by Harmony for short.


    The unicorn asked if a minotaur-shaped guest had arrived.


    Why yes, and he had been invited to lounge by the pool.


    Four-Chord Harmony said nothing else that Windmane could hear, just striding forward through the gate with the other unicorns behind her.


    Razorscale grumbled that he was not an ¡°attendant,¡± but he followed nevertheless. When it was Windmane¡¯s turn through the gate, she nodded politely at the human, who was staring straight ahead while he held the gate open. He didn¡¯t return her nod. Apparently the servants were meant to be ignored here.


    ¡°This place looks fun!¡± Twig said. ¡°Too bad we can¡¯t stay long. Hey, I think the pool¡¯s over that way! I hear splashing.¡±


    The unicorns ignored him, which was probably for the best. Windmane gave half-hearted replies to Twig¡¯s running commentary on the walk across the grounds. Human nobles ¡ª in fancy dress and multiple stages of drunkenness ¡ª gave way as the unicorns approached. Some even climbed onto railings to make sure they had enough space. Four-Chord Harmony paid them no more attention than the servant at the gate.


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    Razorscale glared at everyone. Twig smiled. Windmane and the others tried not to attract attention, though it was a losing battle from the start.


    The pool was easy to find. But the minotaur, surprisingly, wasn¡¯t.


    =You,= Harmony addressed the first wet human to cross her path. =Where is the minotaur?=


    ¡°The what?¡±


    She moved on to the next. Windmane rose up on the carpet to see better, but no luck. Just a pool made to look like a naturally-occurring rock grotto (with unnaturally glowing lights underwater), and many humans with few articles of clothing between them.


    Stomp moved restlessly while the questioning continued. ¡°Did he turn human again?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Windmane said. ¡°Do we know what he looks like?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t. The unicorns probably do.¡±


    Windmane was debating whether to suggest the possibility to them when Harmony found someone who¡¯d seen the minotaur.


    ¡°You just missed him!¡± the woman pouted. Her clothes were dripping, and didn¡¯t look like they were meant to. She had very faint mage lines. ¡°We¡¯d barely gotten here when his friends showed up and bullied him into leaving!¡±


    =What friends?= the unicorn asked, fixing her with a piercing gaze and probably reading her thoughts. The woman had barely gotten through a rambling answer before Harmony turned aside scornfully. She addressed another human in flowing dress. This one had managed to stay dry, and had no mage lines at all. =Where did they go?=


    ¡°Somewhere to get ready for the contest,¡± the woman said. ¡°They made him sober up and everything.¡±


    Harmony stomped a hoof and turned to her compatriots. =We¡¯ll have to check their homes individually,= she said. =Such a dull-awful waste of time.=


    Windmane tried not to worry, then Silver uncurled suddenly behind her.


    ¡°The surveillance charm!¡± the dragon hissed. ¡°All five of them are there now!¡±


    Razorscale¡¯s head whipped toward Harmony. ¡°Let¡¯s go!¡± he said.


    Windmane didn¡¯t think the travel spell had been that fast before. She barely took a breath before the pool was replaced by the front walkway of the mansion.


    ¡°You couldn¡¯t have brought us in closer?¡± Razorscale complained as he dug in his belt pouch and Silver leapt off the carpet to join him.


    =No,= Harmony said without explaining. =You two get your spell ready, because we will not be interested in waiting for you.= True to her word, she cantered toward the door.


    Just as Windmane was remembering that they hadn¡¯t left that door closed, it swung open again.


    Five humans charged out, with bright mage lines and a visible ward around them that glowed in multiple colors. The unicorns blasted white light at them immediately. It fizzled on impact.


    Windmane sent the carpet into a dive behind a rock wall, barely noticing Stomp following her and Beak going the other way. She had no idea where Twig was.


    The humans were shouting to each other, sounding surprised that the attackers weren¡¯t fellow human magicians. Then one of them noticed Silver, and another saw mage lines appear on Razorscale, and that gave them a new target.


    ¡°Dragonsleep! Do dragonsleep now!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got it; feed me power!¡±


    Windmane peered over the wall in hopes of seeing the dragons finishing the spell reversal. Instead she saw two darts of red power flash across the walkway to drop them both where they stood.


    She yelped, covered her mouth, and watched in horror. All she could think was That shouldn¡¯t even work; he¡¯s not in dragon form right now.


    The humans were talking to the unicorns. ¡°We have no quarrel with you!¡± one shouted.


    ¡°Leave us!¡± tried another.


    =Oh, you very much do have a quarrel with us,= replied Harmony.


    The dangerous tone registered with the humans, as did the stance; she looked ready to charge. Windmane didn¡¯t know if the unicorn would be able to break their ward by slamming bodily into it, but the humans were clearly terrified.


    Harmony lunged as two humans cast magic toward the unconscious dragons, lifting them from the ground. The other three did something complicated with their hands.


    All five disappeared with a pop, taking Razorscale and Silver with them.


    Harmony skidded to a halt where they had been standing. She bugled her fury at a volume that made Windmane shrink back, and the other three unicorns joined in.


    Then they disappeared too.


    Windmane couldn¡¯t breathe. They were gone! All of them!


    ¡°What just happened?¡± Stomp asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Windmane said helplessly.


    ¡°What was that?¡± yelled Beak from behind a tree.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know!¡± Windmane yelled back. ¡°They¡¯re gone! The unicorns could be mounting a rescue or getting reinforcements or planning to burn down the country for all I know!¡±


    ¡°And where the crack is Twig?¡± Beak asked.


    ¡°Up here!¡± said a voice. ¡°Gimme a second!¡±


    Windmane craned her neck looking straight up, to where Twig, still in human form, had somehow figured out how to fly. Badly.


    ¡°Twig, what are you doing?¡± Beak demanded. ¡°Get down here!¡±


    ¡°Trying!¡± he said, wobbling and dipping like a leaf in a stream.


    ¡°Stomp, you¡¯ve got to catch him,¡± Windmane said. ¡°Wait, I can catch him!¡± She aimed the carpet skyward and yelled at Twig to hold still.


    ¡°Doing my best!¡± he said. ¡°Human magic doesn¡¯t make any sense!¡±


    With more than a little awkwardness, and two near-missed of elbows to Windmane¡¯s head, she got the carpet under him and he released the magic. Fresh mage lines faded from his arms and face. She sank down carefully in case he lifted off again.


    Then all they could do was talk in circles. Twig had figured out how to access the magician¡¯s power source, sort of! In the least helpful way! And nothing else good had just happened!


    ¡°But what do we do next?¡± Windmane exclaimed. ¡°Where do we go?¡±


    ¡°Back to the gorgons?¡± Twig suggested. ¡°They were friendly.¡±


    ¡°Their kids will kill us,¡± Beak reminded him.


    ¡°Oh yeah.¡±


    A new voice spoke up. ¡°I have a suggestion.¡±


    Windmane nearly sprained something as she twisted to see a human woman ¡ª the one from the party, the one wearing dry clothes ¡ª stepping out from behind a hedge.

 Chapter 26

    ¡°Who¡¯s that?¡± Twig peered over Windmane¡¯s shoulder as the strange human walked out of the darkness. Her clothes were flowy and pale green, her hair was flowy and pale yellow, and there was no way she had been there when they¡¯d arrived.


    ¡°I¡¯m a friend,¡± she said. ¡°Or an enemy of an enemy, which amounts to the same thing.¡±


    Beak stepped in front of the group, arms bent like she was flaring feathers she didn¡¯t have. ¡°Explain why we should trust you.¡±


    The woman held her position a few lengths away. ¡°I¡¯d be happy to give you details in private. There are certainly listening spells at work here, and it wouldn¡¯t do to give our common enemies more information than they already have.¡±


    Twig tried to figure it out. ¡°Did they steal your shape too?¡±


    Beak hissed at him to be quiet. Windmane moved to cover his mouth, but he ducked her hands. Why did everyone keep doing that?


    ¡°No,¡± said the human. ¡°But they have committed other offenses. Come walk with me. I¡¯ll say more once we¡¯re past the property line.¡± She waved for them to follow, and strolled toward the distant road. The trees on either side of the mage-lit path were very dark.


    Beak, Windmane, and Stomp all took a moment to stare at each other before moving after her. Twig wondered if he should get off Windmane¡¯s flying carpet, but she hadn¡¯t suggested it, and he wanted to focus on the magic anyway.


    Magic. Oh, how he¡¯d missed it. But it was wrong, not responding to his thoughts the way it should. Clearly he needed to practice.


    The blue lines that glowed through his sleeves when he tried to fly would take some getting used to, but at least it was some sort of glowing. Twig decided to look on the bright side. He lifted off carefully, awkwardly, overjoyed and frustrated in equal measures as his feet went skyward before the rest of him.


    ¡°Nope!¡± Windmane said, grabbing his wrist. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare! No getting lost in the sky! You can wait to mess with that until we¡¯re somewhere safe!¡±


    Twig pouted but didn¡¯t argue. He collapsed back onto the carpet in a pile of limbs that nearly unbalanced it for a moment. Stomp put her hands out to catch him. It was fine. Everything was fine.


    He sat upright in a huff, and waited for the carpet to make its snail-winged way to wherever they were going.


    After a few seconds he realized he could sort of ¡­ fondle the magic without actually flying, get a feel for it. Gnaw on the shape of it like a child fresh from the cocoon. He had faint memories from when he was just learning to hover, and this felt similar. His arms still glowed, but Windmane didn¡¯t notice, and Stomp only gave him a stern look. Twig smiled innocently and gazed into the distance, slowly flapping his hands.


    It didn¡¯t take that long to get to the road after all.


    Metal gates swung open to let them out, then clanged shut in a way that seemed judgmental. Twig was looking for eyes when the human introduced herself.


    ¡°I¡¯m Lanya Ticatite,¡± she said. ¡°Trusted associate in the commoner faction, doing my part to help defeat those nobles in competition for the crown.¡± She pointed sharply toward the estate they¡¯d just left. ¡°I was keeping an eye on one of them, and now I¡¯ve used my only teleportation-chasing charm to follow you lot. I suspect that wasn¡¯t wasted. Who are you?¡±


    When none of the others spoke first, Twig said, ¡°We¡¯re the ones they turned human. Can you help get our shapes back? Oh, and our dragons? The unicorns can probably handle themselves.¡±


    ¡°I would like to,¡± Lanya said. ¡°Why did they turn you human?¡±


    Windmane threw her arms in the air. ¡°We don¡¯t know! They wanted our shapes for something! That one guy seemed to just want to show off!¡±


    Lanya pointed over her shoulder. ¡°The minotaur?¡±


    Stomp crossed her arms with a snort. ¡°Yes. The minotaur.¡±


    ¡°He stole your shape, didn¡¯t he?¡±


    Another snort. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°And what were the rest of you before?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a pixie!¡± Twig volunteered. Beak and Windmane chimed in to explain everything, with Beak taking the lead in making up for the lack of Razorscale¡¯s grumpiness.


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    ¡°¡­Now here we are without any of them, with nothing to go on but rumors and rage, so yes, any ideas from your end would be just grand.¡± She scratched the pavement with slippered feet, a movement that would have looked better with talons.


    ¡°You definitely need to meet some people,¡± Lanya said. ¡°Let me call for someone to meet us with a carriage so we don¡¯t have to walk all the way there. Unless you have a faster way of traveling?¡±


    Twig opened his mouth to suggest the unicorns¡¯ glow-bubble, then remembered they were gone.


    ¡°We do have some pixie dust left,¡± Beak admitted. ¡°But would that attract the wrong kind of attention here?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m afraid it would. Just a moment.¡± Lanya pulled a polished stone from her pocket and pressed several of the runes carved into it. They glowed blue where she¡¯d touched them. After a moment, a voice spoke from it.


    Twig leaned forward to hear better, but the human kept her conversation hushed and hurried. All Twig heard was a general sort of ¡°important people¡± ¡°please come get us¡± and ¡°long story.¡± Twig realized that while the rock was glowing, the woman wasn¡¯t. No mage lines at all. Was this rock special? Or the human?


    When she put the rock away with the announcement that a carriage was coming, Twig asked her. ¡°How come you don¡¯t have mage lines?¡±


    A glare from Windmane said that might have been a rude question. Whoops.


    She didn¡¯t seem offended. ¡°Clearly because I¡¯m not a mage. This way, please.¡±


    ¡°But that was magic, right?¡± Twig pressed. No one was stopping him, and he wanted to know.


    Lanya explained as they traveled down the well-lit street, past elaborate entrances to other homes. ¡°Mage lines only show on magicians who have spent many years working with magic. The more practice, the stronger the glow. Officially it¡¯s only those of noble blood who have the ability to learn it.¡± She dropped to a loud whisper. ¡°But the official story is a lie.¡±


    She spent the rest of the walk explaining the dramatic conspiracy keeping several noble families in power. Twig was shocked and indignant on her behalf, though eventually when the talk got into the intricacies of human politics, his mind started to wander. He let Beak ask the important questions. Practicing magic was more fun.


    This was a darker area, and his mage lines threw blue light onto everyone. Lanya turned with a sharp motion for him to stop whatever he was doing.


    Twig did. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Save it for indoors, okay?¡± she asked. ¡°Mage lines that come and go look extremely suspicious. No one has that.¡±


    ¡°Razorscale does ¡ª oh. Right. Okay.¡± Twig sighed and resigned himself to being bored again.


    Thankfully the carriage driven by Lanya¡¯s friend caught up to them soon, pulled by two white horses that reminded Twig strongly of the unicorns. But there wasn¡¯t a sparkle or a fang to be seen.


    The driver was a male human who ushered everyone inside quickly. Twig hopped down from the carpet and was first through the door that Lanya held open. He settled onto one of the cushy benches while Stomp helped Windmane inside and Beak rolled up the carpet. Lanya sat with her friend, and they were off.


    What a novel way to travel. So bouncy and loud! It wasn¡¯t fast by pixie standards, but it would do. And the view in this neighborhood was a different type of fancy with every house. Twig enjoyed the ride while the others talked and worried.


    The carriage left the rich neighborhood for a more humble part of town. Still interesting; weird architecture. Eventually they pulled up to stop at what must be a house for regular people, and Lanya chivvied them all out. Twig didn¡¯t ride on the carpet with Windmane this time. No need. The house was close by and full of humans.


    ¡°Lanya, come in!¡± said the gray-haired woman at the door. ¡°Who¡¯s this?¡±


    Introductions waited until the door was shut and the many humans were all staring, then Lanya went over it all again. Twig waved when appropriate. He demonstrated the mage line flare when asked, and lifted off the ground without being asked, only to be caught by at least three sets of hands and told to stop please.


    Twig sighed and agreed.


    Something caught his eye. ¡°Can I go look at the bird?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Sure, just don¡¯t bother her too much,¡± Lanya said. ¡°She should be sleeping right now. Her name¡¯s Nibbles.¡±


    Twig made his escape to the other side of the room where Nibbles the green parakeet fluttered from one perch to another in a large cage that might actually be big enough for a bird her size. It certainly took up a fair chunk of the wall.


    ¡°Hi, Nibbles,¡± Twig said. ¡°Do you speak?¡±


    Nibbles made parakeet noises. She stayed on the other side of the cage.


    Trying very hard, Twig activated his stolen human magic and tried again. ¡°Do you understand me?¡±


    He got an impression of surprise in that squawk, though it could have been from the sudden blue light.


    ¡°How¡¯d you do that?¡± asked a young voice.


    After a heartbeat of confusion, Twig realized that it wasn¡¯t the bird who had spoken. He dropped the magic and turned to see two human children staring at him with wide eyes. ¡°Oh, hi! Do what, the glowing? It¡¯s just magic.¡±


    ¡°But it went away,¡± the taller child said. ¡°People who glow are always like that.¡±


    Twig shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m a different kind of people.¡± He didn¡¯t want to explain it again.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± asked the shorter child.


    ¡°Trying to talk to the bird. Nibbles.¡±


    ¡°With magic?¡±


    Twig nodded. ¡°Normally I can do it easily, but this magic is weird.¡±


    The child looked thoughtful. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to do that, but I can do a different spell. Wanna see?¡±


    ¡°Sure!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a spell to hear things far away,¡± the child said. ¡°This room is really loud, but it¡¯ll let me hear what my aunt is saying way over there.¡±


    Twig followed the pointed finger. ¡°Wow, that sounds hard! You must be very good for your age. How long since you pupated?¡±


    ¡°Since I what?¡± The child¡¯s face twisted with confusion.


    ¡°Oh right, I keep forgetting humans don¡¯t do that.¡± Twig smacked his own forehead. ¡°You hatch in adult form, right?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t hatch!¡± the child laughed at him. ¡°That¡¯s birds!¡±


    Twig cocked his head with a smile. ¡°And pixies.¡±


    The conversation that followed with the two fascinated children was far more interesting than anything the adults would have come up with. And that was even before the child showed him the spell for spying on grownups.

 Chapter 27

    It was nice of the humans to offer them a place to sleep. At her most charitable, Beak put that down to kindness as well as scheming to use the four nonhumans to further their own ends. Either way, the floor strewn with pillows felt much like home. She was even woken by flapping and squawks, though she did spend a confused moment wondering which of the hatchlings was making noises like that.


    Oh right, Beak thought groggily. It¡¯s a bird. A small green bird in a large cage, with wings that worked perfectly well. That on top of waking with the thought that she was back home was a perfect recipe for a morose should-be-harpy.


    Then the human children barreled in at top volume, and Beak had other things to think about.


    ¡°Good morning! Good morning! Are you awake?¡±


    ¡°Ugh. Yes,¡± Beak said.


    ¡°Huh? Bwut?¡± Twig and the others woke confused, recovering with varying levels of grace.


    Three adults followed the children with shushing and apologies. Beak waved them off, saying she was already awake. The others followed suit: Twig sprang up to play with the children, Windmane unrolled the flying carpet, and Stomp helped her onto it. Beak wondered briefly how the dragons were doing. She got to her feet and asked the nearest adult when they expected their allies to arrive.


    ¡°Very soon,¡± the woman said. ¡°We have a lot to do today, and this is the hub. We have workspace out back. I¡¯ve already sent messages about you to those who weren¡¯t here last night.¡±


    Beak nodded. ¡°How likely are they to know a searching spell that can find our friends?¡±


    The woman winced. ¡°We can ask? I don¡¯t want to say no, but¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll ask,¡± Beak said. ¡°They¡¯ll probably be interested in breaking the spell before the contest too. That would make your rivals look bad, right?¡±


    ¡°You bet it would. But first things first. How do you folks feel about cereal and toast for breakfast?¡±


    ¡°Toasted what?¡± Beak asked.


    She learned a lot about human breakfast foods that day. The adults brought out everything they had on hand, and explained various aspects of it to their guests. Sliced fruits were added by popular request. Beak was disappointed by the lack of fish, but she kept that to herself.


    ¡°This is great!¡± Twig said around a mouthful of toasted bread. Both he and the bread were smeared with berry paste.


    ¡°I like this one,¡± Windmane declared, scooping up more nut paste out of a jar. ¡°Stomp, you should try it.¡±


    ¡°Does it go on the bread or the cereal?¡± Stomp asked.


    Children giggled from the other side of the table. ¡°It goes on the toast! Milk goes in the cereal.¡±


    ¡°Right, milk.¡± Stomp took the jar of paste. ¡°No thank you.¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you like milk?¡± asked the older child.


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    ¡°The better question is why do you?¡± Stomp replied gently. ¡°Where I¡¯m from, only infants drink it. Perhaps you¡¯re the strange ones here.¡±


    The children insisted that no, nonsense, milk was good for everyone and surely that included weird guests who used to be different species. Their parents kept tactfully quiet, smiling as they ate. Beak and Windmane sided with Stomp.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s good!¡± Twig said. ¡°Especially when it¡¯s this cold.¡±


    Beak leaned her elbows on the table and gave him a look. ¡°Of course you like it. Where do your people even get milk? Do you keep mice as livestock?¡±


    Twig laughed. ¡°No, that would be silly. But sometimes the animals of the forest have extra, like if a fox loses her kits or something.¡±


    Beak¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change. ¡°You get it from human farms, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Well, sometimes,¡± Twig admitted. ¡°Always honestly! Don¡¯t look at me like that.¡±


    ¡°Twig¡¯s the weird one at the table,¡± Beak announced.


    Twig objected, but the children laughed so much that he let it go.


    After breakfast, other humans started to arrive. Beak and the others were introduced to each one who walked in the door, and Beak forgot their names immediately. Far too many to keep track of. They didn¡¯t even use proper descriptors for naming, just a variety of sounds mashed together. Who could be expected to keep that straight?


    They all looked reasonably similar too, though Beak was pretty sure she could pick out the ones who would be presented as co-candidates the next day. There were nine of them, which sounded to Beak like a lot.


    ¡°It is on the high end,¡± admitted the gray-haired male she asked about it. ¡°But the entire point of this movement is bringing power to the masses, out of the hands of an elite few. We could hardly do that with a single candidate.¡±


    ¡°But why nine?¡± Beak insisted. ¡°Their debates will go on forever when a decision has to be made.¡±


    ¡°They have all worked together for years,¡± the man assured her. ¡°They¡¯ve had practice at this sort of thing. And there was a Council of Nine back in the early days, remembered fondly. We couldn¡¯t pass up that comparison.¡±


    ¡°Good luck,¡± Beak said. ¡°Do you at least have a designated tiebreaker, one to make decisions if all nine can¡¯t be gathered?¡±


    ¡°Yes, we do. I can introduce you; she¡¯s around somewhere. Probably in the workspace out back.¡±


    Beak was sure that she¡¯d already been introduced, but she went along anyway. This sounded like the right person to ask about tracking spells. In all the hubbub of preparations, more attention was being put to existing plans than to new ones.


    Or so she thought, until she found most of the nine in a back room with Twig, gathered around a table of magical-looking objects. Everyone present was glowing with blue lines.


    ¡°Just think about channeling power,¡± one woman was saying, ¡°And we¡¯ll direct where it goes. Or would you prefer to say the rhyme again?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that was much easier,¡± Twig said. ¡°Remind me how it goes?¡±


    As Beak and her escort watched from the doorway, the assembled group recited something that sounded like it was made for children about the age of the pair inside. Beak couldn¡¯t see exactly what they were doing, but when they finished, the woman who had spoken before held up a wizard¡¯s staff with a crystal on the end. It glowed a piercing blue.


    The woman grinned at Twig. ¡°Well done. Fancy doing this one next?¡± She picked up something else from the pile.


    ¡°Sure!¡± Twig said. ¡°This is fun. I could hardly get the magic to do anything before.¡± He caught sight of Beak. ¡°Hey! Look, I get to help power their stuff!¡±


    ¡°I see that,¡± Beak said. ¡°Well done. I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯ve talked about finding Razorscale and Silver?¡±


    Twig¡¯s face fell. ¡°They can¡¯t. The bad guys have them hidden somewhere, and they own like twenty houses, so there¡¯s no way to know for sure. Especially when everyone is so busy. But! These guys are going to win the crown, and then they¡¯ll be able to lock ¡®em up for wrongdoing!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the plan, anyway,¡± said the woman. ¡°Care to help?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s the only one with magic,¡± Beak protested.


    ¡°But you all have insider knowledge. If you can recount your experiences with the spell, and with the contents of that workroom, then we would be very grateful.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I can do that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see if there¡¯s a notepad in the office,¡± the older man volunteered. ¡°Right this way.¡±


    Beak went with him toward the office, leaving Twig in the company of several delighted human magicians and a stack of objects to charge.


    He probably won¡¯t explode anything, she thought. Probably. And if he does, it¡¯ll be their problem.

 Chapter 28

    Razorscale woke with a suddenness that said it was deliberate. The row of human mages staring at him confirmed that. The fact that he was somewhere unfamiliar, and could neither move nor cast led him to a very unpleasant conclusion.


    ¡°You will answer our questions or suffer for it,¡± declared the man in the center of the lineup.


    Razorscale gazed back at him, unimpressed.


    ¡°Why were you at his house just now?¡± the man asked with a nod toward the most muscular of the group.


    Not much of a surprise to see that the mage who¡¯d stolen minotaur form was the sort to alter his own natural shape in egotistical ways too. There was no way someone busy with magic and politics had the time to build that kind of muscle mass the hard way.


    When Razorscale held his silence, the human continued. ¡°What spell were you trying to cast? Speak! You can move your head.¡±


    Razorscale made a show of testing the limits of his movement as if he honestly hadn¡¯t realized already. As he did, he took in the view: a magician¡¯s workroom much like the one he¡¯d helped ruin, just larger. Probably the place where these people went to scheme in private. A pile of valuable-looking spell components lay on the floor next to the stasis field that currently held Razorscale and his unconscious apprentice. Razorscale would have liked to get a better look at the child, but there was a limit to how far his human neck would turn.


    ¡°Did you sever the connection to his magic?¡± the man asked. He kept going, as if hoping to hit on a question that Razorscale would answer. ¡°Are you working with the unicorns? Or with rivals of ours? How are you hiding your mage lines?¡±


    Razorscale chuckled quietly. ¡°You¡¯re bad at this,¡± he said.


    The human became predictably angry at that, calling upon his own magic to target Razorscale with what must have been a mild torture spell. It only made his muscles lock up with a crackle of electricity.


    When the spell faded after a second or two, Razorscale burst out laughing. The expression on the man¡¯s face just made him laugh more. ¡°Oh, that was actually supposed to hurt, wasn¡¯t it?¡± he asked. ¡°You poor thing. No wonder your rivals are so sure they¡¯re going to win.¡±


    ¡°What rivals?¡± the man demanded, a couple of the others echoing him.


    ¡°Oh, you are worried,¡± Razorscale said at his most condescending. ¡°Was that your big plan, to win the contest with a little lightning magic?¡±


    ¡°Of course not!¡± the man snapped. ¡°I suspect you know full well what our big play is! If you answer our questions, we might just let you live with that insider knowledge!¡±


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    ¡°I?¡± Razorscale asked. He let his gaze rove across them for a moment. Tall man in the middle with gray hair, muscly fellow to his left, taller woman on the end, little man a step or so behind the others, and a woman at the other end who glared like she wanted to skin him. They all had bright mage lines that their expensive clothing displayed, and each was probably older than they looked. Still children.


    ¡°Yes, you!¡± the man snapped.


    ¡°Let me guess,¡± Razorscale drawled. ¡°You chose the pixie form.¡±


    He looked offended. ¡°No!¡± He jerked his head toward the timid fellow in the back. ¡°He did. They. Sorry.¡± That last was said to the not-a-man-after-all, with an awkwardness that made Razorscale raise an eyebrow.


    ¡°I have another guess,¡± he said.


    ¡°No more guesses!¡±


    Razorscale kept talking. ¡°You lot just discovered your friend¡¯s gender when they transformed for the first time.¡±


    The man pointed an angry finger at Razorscale. ¡°Stop talking unless it¡¯s to answer my questions. Got it?¡±


    ¡°Right, your questions,¡± Razorscale said, enjoying himself. ¡°What were those again?¡±


    ¡°What were you about to DO?¡± the man exploded.


    ¡°Ah yes, the boring questions. Let¡¯s talk instead about how you expect to win when you¡¯re a terrible friend.¡±


    The angry magician zapped him again, and looked utterly infuriated when Razorscale just laughed.


    ¡°Fine!¡± he snapped. ¡°We¡¯ll see how your little friend here likes it!¡± He made an unnecessarily complicated gesture to wake up the apprentice.


    ¡°Brace yourself,¡± Razorscale said drily, ¡°For torture.¡±


    The man cast his lightning spell yet again, grimacing like he was putting everything he had into it.


    ¡°Oh,¡± the apprentice said a moment later. ¡°Is that what that was? No wonder their rivals are so confident.¡±


    Razorscale¡¯s laughter was drowned out by the shouting of the lead human. The other four made efforts to calm him down. During the hubbub, Razorscale turned his head as far as it would go in order to cast an approving look on his apprentice.


    ¡°Did I miss anything important?¡±


    ¡°Not really. Except the little one¡¯s gender only came to light in pixie form.¡±


    ¡°Really? They didn¡¯t realize before then? What terrible friends.¡±


    The intense female was suddenly close and glaring at them. ¡°You two,¡± she said, ¡°Are going to start telling us what we want to know, or else I am going to start tearing scales off you and using them to carve chunks out of you.¡±


    ¡°Now there¡¯s a threat!¡± Razorscale said. ¡°Well done! Where did you learn that?¡±


    Her expression was clearly meant to be intimidating. ¡°Experience.¡±


    ¡°Oh, and you¡¯re doing so well. Keep up the practice, and in a century or two you might be really scary.¡±


    The sour look on her face was one that Razorscale treasured.


    She was persistent, though; he had to give her that. She pulled out an ensorcelled knife and flipped it through her fingers. ¡°Are you working with the unicorns?¡±


    ¡°Why? Worried?¡±


    ¡°What is your interest in the coronation contest?¡±


    ¡°Nonexistent, if I¡¯m honest. But I can only speak for myself.¡±


    ¡°Are the unicorns planning on interfering with the contest?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll have to ask them.¡± Since it was taking her a moment to decide on the next question, Razorscale continued. ¡°And you¡¯ll get to.¡±


    She looked at him sharply. ¡°When?¡±


    ¡°Hm? No idea. But do say hi to them for me, and anyone else they might bring along.¡±


    The woman said nothing for a moment, then cast a look over her shoulder to where the other mages were talking heatedly. She pointed the knife at Razorscale, turned on her heel, and walked off to join them.


    Razorscale grinned at his apprentice, who whispered back, ¡°Nice. She¡¯s going to be worried about how to stop a force of dragons and unicorns working against them.¡±


    His grin was steady. ¡°Who knows? It might even happen. Now let¡¯s see if these amateurs left us an easy way out of this stasis field.¡±

 Chapter 29

    ¡°What do you mean, not allowed?¡± Windmane asked, clutching the edge of the flying carpet. ¡°I need it!¡±


    The human whose name she¡¯d already forgotten sighed deeply and explained it to her, with the same tone he¡¯d used on the children earlier when they had wanted a dessert that the kitchen didn¡¯t hold.


    ¡°Vehicles that fly or hover are regulated,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re lucky no one¡¯s stopped you for a permit yet. But beside that, it¡¯s too big to fit into the aisles at the stadium. They will absolutely stop you at the door.¡±


    Windmane couldn¡¯t argue her way past the man¡¯s certainty, which was backed up by more than one other passing human. But he had another idea.


    ¡°There are non-magical things that can help you,¡± the man said. ¡°We should have just enough time to get our hands on one today. The shops will all be closed tomorrow morning.¡±


    ¡°What kind of things?¡± Windmane asked with suspicion.


    ¡°Wheelchairs, walkers, crutches, canes. It depends on how much help you need, really. Can you show me how far you get on two feet?¡±


    She very much didn¡¯t want to. But she did. The children of course chose that time to scamper through the room and stop to see the show, which didn¡¯t help. Windmane scooted to the edge of the carpet and dangled her awkward human legs over, then eased her weight onto her feet.


    Even holding onto the carpet, she wobbled like a foal. The children gave her conflicting advice, which didn¡¯t help.


    ¡°Straighten your legs more!¡±


    ¡°No, keep them bent!¡±


    ¡°Now put one foot forward more!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got to lean!¡±


    The man watched for a bit, then told her to sit back down. ¡°Let me see what I can find. A wheelchair would be easier for you, though there still aren¡¯t ramps everywhere there should be. You might be able to handle a walker with some practice.¡±


    ¡°How much practice?¡± Windmane asked as she directed the carpet lower so she could collapse onto it. She¡¯d gotten good at the mental commands, and hated to give it up.


    The man smiled with forced optimism. ¡°You¡¯ve got the rest of today!¡±


    ¡°Right. Lucky me, with nothing better to do.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see if somebody¡¯s free to swing by the store now. It¡¯s on the other side of town. I hope it¡¯s open. Kids, why don¡¯t you tell our guest here about how you learned to ride bikes and skates?¡± He made his escape as the kids all started talking at once.


    Windmane sat and listened. She really didn¡¯t have anything else to do. She¡¯d already given her account to the person taking notes, she was no help with the magic that Twig was doing, and she¡¯d opted to stay when Stomp and Beak went with the humans to check for unicorns at the hotel. She felt a bit guilty about not going, but there wasn¡¯t much she could contribute aside from carpet rides, which were, as noted, against the rules.


    Nope, better to stay here in case the unicorns returned for them, or the dragons showed up somehow, or Twig caused some catastrophe. But none of those had happened. So she listened while the kids told her stories until a different adult returned with a ¡°walker¡± that had apparently been in storage.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know about this,¡± Windmane said as she eyed the rickety-looking metal frame.


    ¡°Just try it,¡± the new human said. He demonstrated how it worked. ¡°You can put most of your weight on your hands if you need to.¡±


    Windmane tried. She didn¡¯t fall, though it was an awful lot of pressure on her wrists. But the human was encouraging and so were the children, so she gritted her teeth and slid one foot forward at a time.


    ¡°Yeah, looking good!¡± the human said. ¡°Keep it up and you¡¯ll be walking circles around the rest of us in no time!¡±


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    ¡°I doubt that,¡± Windmane grunted. Maybe I could just stay here tomorrow, she thought. Maybe that would be better. But no. She¡¯d just be fretting about whether the evil wizards won the contest, alone and useless in a stranger¡¯s house, hoping that the good humans would win instead. The least she could do was go along with the others, in whatever awkward fashion she could manage. With a minimum of complaining.


    * * * * *


    ¡°My hands hurt,¡± Windmane complained to Twig as she made herself comfortable in the seat she¡¯d just fallen into. Twig was far too interested in the fancy decorations of the viewing room to pay her any mind. Not that she could blame him.


    Even preoccupied with her difficulties in walking, the route from carriage to stadium had been an eyecatching one. Everything was all ornate structures and magical embellishments: colors, lights, illusory creatures floating through the air. It was enough to make her want to stare upward constantly, though she needed to watch the path instead. There was magical color there too, of course. This kind directed the vast crowd of viewers toward various entrances.


    The family of humans who had been playing host turned out to rate their own private area to watch the show. Possibly the room was granted to relatives of the contestants. Either way, there was enough space left in the three rows of seats for Windmane, her walker, and her friends.


    Stomp and Beak had been visibly frustrated when they¡¯d returned from the hotel with no sign of the unicorns, but they were more upbeat now. The humans¡¯ optimism about their team¡¯s odds was catching. Windmane tried to cling to that hope as she looked out at the enormous stadium. This was a whole nation¡¯s worth of top-tier magicians. Or politicians, who were also magicians. Windmane was a little fuzzy on the details.


    Luckily for her, the bushy-haired human woman seated in front of her decided to explain everything to the guests.


    Luckily.


    ¡°So it¡¯s every ten years that the leadership changes hands,¡± she said. ¡°The whole idea behind this contest was supposed to make it more fair, though things have obviously turned into a popular-kids-club with the elite mages.¡± She leaned in and whispered loudly, ¡°And that¡¯s what we¡¯re hoping to change!¡± She sat back. ¡°Anyway, the contest has several parts, and the last one is always a secret, decided on by the previous leadership. This decade it¡¯s been Monarch Pinetal all by himself, which is rare, honestly. I think all the frontrunners now are groups, or at least pairs. Oh, hear that? The procession¡¯s about to start. I¡¯ll point ¡®em out to you as they come. We¡¯ve got a great view from here; see that little area right by the gate? That¡¯s where each team will wait while the last one finishes. Oh hey, here they come!¡±


    As promised, the human kept up a running commentary while her comrades booed and cheered and talked amongst themselves. Windmane did her best to pay attention at first, but the information quickly turned into a wash of white noise to be punctuated by polite sounds.


    ¡°There will be a time to show off special talents, and the battle of constructs, and the multitasking challenge, and the leadership/cooperation demo¡­¡±


    ¡°Mm, wow.¡±


    It was all very elaborate and impressive: opening ceremonies and early rounds and all. But Windmane only started really paying attention when a new group moved into the waiting area.


    ¡°That¡¯s them!¡± Stomp exclaimed, pointing past Beak.


    Windmane and Twig followed her arm while the humans around them booed heartily. The five people in magician¡¯s robes did look like the ones who had stolen Razorscale and Silver, not to mention Windmane¡¯s own shape.


    Beak hissed. ¡°It kills me that we can¡¯t do anything to them. They¡¯re right there.¡±


    Stomp agreed. ¡°This would be a perfect time to break the spell. Or maybe in a minute, when they¡¯re showing off their special trick.¡± She squeezed an armrest with both hands, and Windmane thought she heard it crack.


    Twig was being uncharacteristically silent. Windmane gave him a look and found the pixie gazing at the wizards with an expression like he was thinking hard.


    She looked away, only to be surprised when a blue light flared beside her.


    Mage lines.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Windmane demanded.


    Twig answered with a question of his own. ¡°What¡¯s the Seamless Tower?¡±


    ¡°What? I don¡¯t know.¡± Windmane realized that she had a fair idea who would. She tapped the shoulder of the woman in front of her. ¡°Hey, what¡¯s the Seamless Tower?¡±


    ¡°A vault where some of the elite keep their valuables, why?¡±


    Twig was staring off into space blankly. ¡°It¡¯s where Razorscale and Silver are.¡±


    ¡°WHAT?¡± chorused Windmane, Beak, and Stomp.


    His expression didn¡¯t change. ¡°They almost escaped from somewhere else. The mages are complaining about how much magic power they had to waste on healing each other, and on knocking them unconscious again.¡±


    ¡°How do you know that?¡± Windmane asked.


    Twig blinked, lost the glow, and turned a brilliant smile on her. ¡°The kids taught me an eavesdropping spell.¡±


    While the nearest humans asked, ¡°They what?¡± Windmane and the others demanded details. Twig activated the spell again to listen further, but the magicians were talking about something else now.


    Stomp stood up. ¡°We have to go break them out. Right now, before the contest is over.¡±


    Beak was right beside her. ¡°How do we do it, though?¡± She looked around at the various humans. ¡°Can any of you get in?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s designed to be impassable to anyone who doesn¡¯t have the spell key,¡± said the talkative human. ¡°We don¡¯t even know where the door is. It¡¯s all a secret.¡±


    ¡°Can we break it?¡± Stomp asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s enchanted stone. Even a cart ramming it wouldn¡¯t make a crack.¡±


    Windmane had a brilliant idea. She scrambled for the walker and got to her feet. ¡°We know some experts on enchanted stone! I bet a medusa can get in!¡±

 Chapter 30

    Stomp had to physically restrain Twig from grabbing the bag of pixie dust out of Windmane¡¯s pocket and flying to the gorgon island immediately. ¡°No,¡± she told him firmly.


    ¡°But!¡± he objected, arms still outstretched. ¡°It¡¯s the fastest way!¡±


    Stomp pushed his arms down. ¡°To die, yes.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Right.¡±


    Shaking her head, Stomp turned to the humans. ¡°Can any of you send a message to the gorgons? Something fast but not alive?¡±


    ¡°I can,¡± said one human immediately: an overweight fellow with the faintest of mage lines just starting to show. He pulled a notepad and pencil from his bag. ¡°What should it say?¡±


    There was some dithering over that, but the group settled on a short message that would remind the gorgons of the recent visit and the disreputable human mages, and ask for their help in freeing the two dragons from a stone prison.


    Stomp hoped it worked.


    The human dutifully wrote down their message, folded the paper into an aerodynamic shape, and said an incantation aloud. His faint lines glowed a little brighter. The paper lifted from his hand, floating on folds that resembled wings, then took off out of the room where it turned skyward and disappeared.


    ¡°How fast does that travel?¡± Stomp asked the human.


    ¡°Pretty fast,¡± he said. ¡°Should arrive within minutes.¡±


    Beak pointed at the distant magicians. ¡°How long do we have until they leave the waiting area?¡±


    The human consulted a timepiece while others did the same. ¡°Quite a while still. The current group has barely started.¡±


    Twig spoke up. ¡°Do you think the gorgons know how to send this kind of message back?¡±


    ¡°They won¡¯t have to,¡± the man said. ¡°It comes with a return trip, encoded with any message they want to send.¡±


    ¡°Oh. That¡¯s good. Do they need their own magic pencil?¡±


    The human magician explained his spell with a level of detail that Stomp lost interest in. They would get a message back; that was all that mattered. With any luck, it would be a message that said the gorgons would help them.


    ¡°Assuming they say yes,¡± Stomp said to no one in particular, ¡°What¡¯s our plan? How far away is this tower?¡±


    Everybody talked at that point. Lots of directions and landmarks and suggestions, both good and bad. The chaotic conversation lasted until the paper message zipped back in through the open window.


    It stopped in front of the caster, who wasted no time in unfolding it to read the message aloud.


    The mated pair of gorgons who had sent it were very interested in inconveniencing several human mages, especially when it came with the chance of multiple dragons owing them a favor. They would be arranging childcare and crossing the water immediately.


    ¡°Then let¡¯s go!¡± Stomp said. ¡°I don¡¯t know if they¡¯re using a boat or what, but those gargoyles fly fast. He might just be carrying her.¡±


    The humans didn¡¯t speculate, dithering amongst themselves briefly over who was going and who was staying, and which vehicles to use. Trying not to be impatient, Stomp made sure that Windmane was mobile and Twig wasn¡¯t doing anything ill-advised. Beak was just as eager to leave as she was.


    ¡°This way, team!¡± announced the fat magician. ¡°Time to break some laws for the common good!¡±


    Someone else declared that keeping prisoners in the Seamless Tower was illegal anyway, but Stomp couldn¡¯t tell who. The room was chaos and it was time to go.


    A handful of humans led the way through passageways and staircases. The crowds that had slowed them down on their way in were all elsewhere watching the show, so the pace was quick. Stomp realized early on that Windmane needed help. She directed Beak to carry the walking frame while she and Twig stood on either side in the narrow walkway and carried Windmane between them. The centaur shut her mouth and lifted her feet, arms around their shoulders. The humans waited, then hurried forward again.


    By the time they reached the vehicle they had come in, Stomp was certain that the gorgons would reach the tower first, and be accosted by guards. As she settled into her seat, she asked the nearest human if the mage could send another message to the same people.


    ¡°Maybe, but he¡¯s in the other carriage,¡± the human said. ¡°We¡¯ll ask him when we stop.¡±


    Then the driver yelled something that the horses interpreted as run fast, and Stomp had to hold on so she didn¡¯t fall over.


    Maybe they won¡¯t beat us there after all, she thought.


    As it turned out, they did arrive first, but barely. They had just enough time to pile out into the parking lot, stare up at the enormous structure atop the hill, and realize that no one had much of anything resembling a plan.


    The Seamless Tower was a vast column of white marble, huge even at ground level, without so much as a crack anywhere along its unmarked surface. Fences and guards ringed the bottom of its artificial hill, while a low hedge screened the base of the tower itself from view. Stomp assumed this was so high-society mages could enter without betraying the location of the door to any passing peasant.


    That hedge looked like a good place to be, but the four sets of guards posted at compass points around the fence would certainly not let them in.


    Just when Stomp was wondering what the nearest guards were looking at, a shadow passed over her. Wingbeats heralded the arrival of the gorgons.


    Look at that. They did fly. Stomp shielded her eyes as the gargoyle backwinged to land behind the carriages (only disturbing the horses a little, as opposed to a lot). The medusa unwound to stand beside him as the dust settled. He was speckled gray, she was patchy brown, and both looked pleased to be here.


    ¡°Greetings,¡± the medusa said.


    The gargoyle smacked fist to palm. ¡°Let¡¯s break some rocks!¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll have to get past the guards first,¡± Stomp said, speaking over the humans trying to do introductions. ¡°Any ideas?¡±


    ¡°Ha! Yes.¡± The gargoyle looked at his mate. ¡°You want to, or shall I?¡±


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    ¡°Go ahead; you¡¯re good at it.¡±


    ¡°Righto.¡± He strode past them on clawed feet. ¡°Don¡¯t spread word of this around, all right? Being underestimated is nice.¡±


    As Stomp watched, the gray-skinned creature of wings, tail, and spikes seemed to blur before her eyes. She blinked, and found herself looking in any direction except directly at him.


    There was a brief exchange of words with the guards, then silence.


    The medusa undulated forward smugly. ¡°All clear,¡± she said. Nothing about her faded from view: not the brown scales in patches of dark and light, the skin that was somewhere in between, or the lemon-yellow shirt. She moved with confidence nonetheless.


    When Stomp looked back at the distant guards, she saw the gargoyle standing in plain sight next to a pair of suspiciously still humans forms.


    Oh no. She ran forward, followed by the rest of the crowd. The males can petrify people too! Now we¡¯ll be hunted for killing the guards!


    But no. When she drew near, she saw that the guards weren¡¯t stone at all, though they held as still as if they were. The gargoyle grinned widely.


    ¡°Garden-variety paralysis spell,¡± he said. ¡°Nobody ever expects we can learn other types of magic. These guys will be fine.¡±


    ¡°Oh good,¡± Stomp said, trying not to betray how worried she¡¯d been. ¡°Thank you for that.¡± Belatedly, she looked back to check on Windmane. The centaur had reclaimed the flying carpet that she¡¯d left in the carriage earlier, and was doing fine.


    ¡°Great,¡± Beak said. ¡°Let¡¯s get a look at that tower before the other guards notice.¡±


    ¡°Or,¡± said the gargoyle, turning blurry again, ¡°I could make them not notice.¡± He sped off along the fence while the medusa waved everyone else forward.


    Stomp let Beak lead the way. Manicured hedges and some decorative flowers were all that stood between them and the base of the tower.


    It was even bigger up close. Eye-searingly bright, and just as seamless as promised.


    The human with the faint mage lines was most interested in finding the door. ¡°I¡¯ve wanted to see this for years,¡± he enthused, running fingertips across the surface. ¡°I don¡¯t even see a ley line connection; it¡¯s all internal.¡± He turned to the medusa, and also the gargoyle who had just popped back into view, slightly out of breath.


    Stomp wondered if he¡¯d use a magical speed enhancement or if he was naturally that fast on his feet. Maybe he¡¯d flown.


    The human didn¡¯t care. He gestured at the wall. ¡°Do you think you can crack it?¡±


    The gargoyle bowed to his mate. ¡°After you, my dear.¡±


    She smiled at him as she passed, each of the tiny snakes on her head flickering its tongue in his direction. Her expression turned thoughtful as she circled the tower. She only got a quarter of the way around it before chuckling audibly. ¡°And I thought this might be difficult to spot.¡±


    The human jogged up. ¡°Where?¡±


    As Stomp and the others followed him, the medusa pointed at an unremarkable patch of wall. ¡°Here.¡±


    The conversation that ensued was heavy on the jargon, which Stomp didn¡¯t appreciate, but at least it was short. Soon enough the gorgon pair were directing the magically-inclined humans in how to cause the stone wall to melt away. Twig got to join in too, with his stolen magic.


    They overperformed. Either it was a misjudgment on the part of the human rookies, something different about the gorgons¡¯ magic, or enthusiasm on Twig¡¯s part, but when the doorway appeared, the surrounding area crumbled as well.


    ¡°Was that supposed to happen?¡± Stomp asked, though it clearly wasn¡¯t. For several handspans on either side of the rectangular doorway, smooth marble had turned rough and soft.


    Beak scraped at it was a fingernail. ¡°It¡¯s chalk,¡± she declared. ¡°You turned the marble back into chalk.¡±


    The lead human magician laughed. ¡°Glorious! Well, that will be someone else¡¯s problem to fix.¡±


    While Twig was asking what Beak meant by back into chalk, and the harpy was refusing to explain geology to him, the lead human enlisted the help of another human to cast a seeking spell of some kind. This promptly manifested a ball of golden light that floated through the oversized doorway to light up the classy foyer inside.


    ¡°Onward!¡± the human declared, following it. Stomp was right behind him, with the rest crowding in after her. Thankfully there were no guards inside, though Stomp was certain that they wouldn¡¯t have been much of a hindrance.


    That glowball led them on a speedy trot across floors both marble and carpeted, past framed portraits and all manner of hoity-toity decorations. When it reached the staircase, Stomp was grateful for Windmane¡¯s carpet. The medusa was the slow one now, winding up the stairs on her snake tail, while the humans raced up to the next landing with words about sending someone back once they¡¯d found the correct door.


    Not much of a search, as it turned out. The glowball stopped on the second floor. Stomp tried not to show her relief.


    ¡°More enchanted marble!¡± the human magician declared, beaming at the white door. ¡°Say, let¡¯s do that again, shall we?¡±


    They did. Stomp couldn¡¯t say how much of the spell was by design and how much was an accidental side effect, but it certainly was something the group could do on purpose. This wall softened until the door fell off its hinges to smack onto the floor inside. Stomp made a point of stepping heavily on it as she passed.


    The room held many things, all of which were certainly valuable, and only one of which was important. The stasis field with two unconscious dragons was front and center. It rested in the middle of an aisle, crooked, like the people who¡¯d left it there had been in a hurry. But most importantly, it had a clear off switch that anyone could operate.


    Beak got there first and switched it off before Stomp could break it.


    Everyone stood back while the stasis field faded and the two captives sank to the floor, still unconscious. That didn¡¯t last more than a breath or two, though. Razorscale sat up with his hands raised to cast something.


    ¡°It¡¯s us! You¡¯re free!¡± Beak stopped him.


    ¡°I see that.¡± Razorscale took in the sights as Silver twitched awake and had to be similarly calmed. ¡°Where are the enemies?¡±


    ¡°At the contest,¡± Stomp said. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    He didn¡¯t have to be told twice.


    They all rushed back down the staircase (with the medusa sledding down on a straightened tail and outpacing everyone), then out into the sunshine. Silver darted ahead to check for enemies, but no need.


    They left the tower walls full of holes and the guards blinking in confusion as they fled.


    One mad carriage ride later, with the gorgons flying above in their ¡°nothing to see here¡± camouflage, they found a new parking space several rows away from the stadium wall.


    This spot was far from the entrance, but close to a blank part of the wall that the humans swore was the ideal place. There were no guards waiting here. Stomp wasn¡¯t sure that meant it was safe, though.


    As everyone piled out of the carriage and someone gave the horses feedbags to keep them occupied, the lead magician declared that the timing was right for catching the villains in the middle of their big performance. Stomp hoped he was right.


    Then her attention was taken up by the gargoyle preparing to cast his ¡°no lookie¡± hex on everyone at once. They gathered between other carriages, all of whose horses had been properly stabled somewhere else.


    ¡°I won¡¯t be able to hold this for long, even linked up,¡± the gargoyle said, holding hands with his mate. ¡°Huddle close now, and sing out if you see any guards. I¡¯ll have to drop it to help with the rockbreaking.¡±


    Stomp looked to the yellowish wall. ¡°Wait, will that still work?¡± she asked. ¡°This is a different kind of rock. Is it going to be soft too, or just a different color?¡±


    Beak reached up to pat her shoulder. ¡°This is sandstone,¡± she said. ¡°Sand is much softer than chalk.¡±


    ¡°Oh good,¡± Stomp said. ¡°Tell me if you need me to kick it down anyway.¡±


    The human mage said, ¡°You¡¯ll be the first to know!¡± He looked to Razorscale and Silver. ¡°Will you two be ready with your counterspell as soon as the hole opens up?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes,¡± Razorscale replied. ¡°Just get us a line of sight.¡±


    ¡°Right. Everybody ready to hustle over there? On your say-so!¡± the mage told the gargoyle.


    A ripple in the air was all that showed from inside the hex. Stomp tried to hurry quietly. It probably didn¡¯t matter, but she didn¡¯t want to be the one to call down attention despite everything. Distant guards patrolled in aircarts, visible in both directions, though none were near at the moment. The invisible group trotted over a swath of cultivated grass and reached the wall. Still no guards.


    ¡°Everybody in position?¡± asked the gargoyle. Stomp moved aside to give the human magicians space. When they all said yes, the ripple in the air disappeared.


    Stomp kept watch, worrying about guards and carriage attendants and late arrivals to the show. The magicians did their magic while she worried. A satisfied exclamation and the hiss of falling sand told her it had worked.


    ¡°There!¡± said Silver.


    ¡°Now!¡± Razorscale agreed.


    Stomp turned to see a gaping hole in the wall, with the human-form dragon and his small apprentice standing in the center. They glowed with complicated magic and glared into the stadium. Shouts sounded from inside.


    Then more shouts from behind her: guards were flying in from every direction.


    The world lit up with white light.


    When it cleared, colors were muted and the humans near her were smaller. She could see to the sides again! And smell everything!


    Something beside her roared in a way that made her ribs shake.


    Oh.


    Razorscale was bigger than she¡¯d expected.

 Chapter 31

    Twig was watching Stomp when the white magic hit. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, and was shocked to see a minotaur as big as a house. Her fur was the same dark brown as her skin had been, and her baggy clothes fit snugly now. She towered over him in a terrifying fashion.


    The spell went wrong, Twig thought, gaping upwards. How did it do that?


    Then the loudest roar ever shook the ground, and Twig was suddenly far away in the sky, fluttering on wings that left a glowing trail of stolen magic in his wake.


    How did¡ª? He looked at his hands, which were glowing a familiar gold, and the trail, which was blue.


    Twig figured it out. ¡°Ohohoho,¡± he chuckled aloud. ¡°They¡¯re never gonna catch me now.¡±


    He zoomed back down to where the excitement was, faster than a pixie had any right to be. Stomp wasn¡¯t enormous after all, but Razorscale sure was. Good thing there was that grassy lawn outside the wall. Amazing he hadn¡¯t stepped on anyone with all that roaring and spreading his wings and looking scary. Vivid blue coloring that tapered to black at the ends, and wow so many teeth!


    Twig circled around his friends in a heartbeat. There was Beak spreading her own feathered wings (a lovely speckled brown) and using them to flap backwards away from the dragon who was giving the guards a reason to keep their distance. Windmane was already off among the carriages, prancing on her own four feet. Silver kept watch at the hole in the wall. Magicians inside the arena were just starting to get over their surprise.


    Those five mages in the center looked particularly flustered. And their clothes didn¡¯t fit right. Like they¡¯d just been returned to human form unexpectedly.


    Twig glared. He zipped forward with his new speed and poked every one of them in the eye.


    That¡¯ll keep them busy for a second, Twig thought as they shouted and clutched their faces. What next? Oh, guards!


    There sure were a lot of humans aiming things at Razorscale. And at the other smaller people on the ground. Twig realized that the gorgons were nowhere to be seen. They must have skedaddled as soon as the spell was broken.


    Good call. They did their part, and Razorscale even admitted he owed them a favor before we got here, so they¡¯re all good. The rest is up to us. Onward!


    Twig blasted forward, leaving a trail of blue magic and swearing humans in his wake. Healing magic was popular among humans, and anyway he didn¡¯t jab them hard enough to do serious damage. Just enough to give his friends time to do whatever came next in the plan.


    Somebody must have a plan. He sure didn¡¯t.


    Razorscale¡¯s plan seemed to involve shouting accusations at the bad guys and threats at the guards. An amplified human voice was shouting back at him from somewhere. The crowds were panicking and trying to get away. Everybody was shouting, basically. Twig kept his head down and went after anyone who looked like they might cause problems for his friends.


    Some of them started aiming for him instead, but they hadn¡¯t caught him yet. He did have to watch out for the web spells that were starting to pop up, though. And that hex just missed him, whatever it was. It crackled as it passed by.


    =STOP,= said the loudest voice in the world.


    Twig was frozen in place, caught by one of the glow-balls the unicorns had used. His vantage point from this high up made the stadium look like a fountain that someone had poured glow-soap into. Just full of bubbles. There was a particularly big one over Razorscale. The unfolding chaos had stopped.


    Oh, there they are. Twig spotted the small herd of unicorns who¡¯d appeared out of nowhere to stand on a glowy platform in midair, right up in the center of the arena where everyone could see them. They had their own swarm of pixies, though none were as fast as Twig.


    Hey, I wonder if I can break out of this.


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    But before he got a chance to really try, the lead unicorn started talking. Twig was pretty sure that it was Harmony, though he couldn¡¯t say for certain.


    =Several of your magicians have committed a grievous crime,= the loud voice declared, =Which has incurred the wrath of half a dozen cultures, if not more. The way your leaders respond now will determine whether you have war on your hands. Proceed wisely.=


    It was a good speech. Twig didn¡¯t want to be on her bad side.


    And neither did the humans, by the looks of it. As Twig watched, the five jerkfaces in the middle of the field were lifted up to where the unicorns could glare at them directly, and a few other glow-bubbles soon joined them. Those came from the highest viewing booth where Twig thought the reigning king/emperor/whatever had been watching the show. When the unicorns were satisfied that they had all the relevant enemies, they started gathering up allies.


    Or we¡¯re at least witnesses, Twig thought as his own glowball coasted over to join the group by the wall. The humans who had helped were still there too.


    Twig wondered if the unicorns would whisk them off to some secure location for glaring and threats in privacy, but nope. They settled everybody on the grass right there, then threw a glowy bubble around the whole area. While the frozen stampede inside the arena waited, Harmony got right down to business.


    She separated one old human from a handful of others, and bared her diamond-capped fangs at him. =You are, at the moment, the highest authority in this human realm. Correct?=


    The man cleared his throat. He was exceptionally old and wrinkly. ¡°Correct,¡± he said with some dignity. ¡°Though I will be replaced by the winner or winners of the competition you have interrupted.¡±


    Harmony ignored that part. =These five magicians,= she said, pointing her horn at the ill-dressed cluster, =Have stolen a spell core from us. They perverted it towards their own purposes, and used it to steal the natural forms of these five innocents.= This time she pointed at Twig and his friends.


    Razorscale snorted, but said nothing.


    Twig privately thought it was funny that she¡¯d included the rampaging dragon along with the ¡°innocents.¡±


    The human was starting into what sounded like an insincere apology, but Harmony cut him off. =Let me be clear. This spell will NEVER be cast again. We will be claiming all of these mages¡¯ notes and relevant spell components, and compiling a list of their accomplices to interrogate. You will cooperate fully. If you do not, you will align yourself and your nation with our enemies, and suffer that designation immediately. Do you understand?=


    The human cleared his throat again, pursing his lips. ¡°I understand.¡±


    =Good. Your only choice is whether the perpetrators will be stripped of magic and imprisoned, or killed outright. Choose now.=


    Twig was glad he wasn¡¯t that guy. What a choice! And with the people watching him, too. The fact that they weren¡¯t pleading for their lives probably meant that Harmony had given them an extra dose of freeze-in-place. Of course the man chose to let them live. From what Twig had heard of the human political shenanigans, some of them were probably related to him.


    It occurred to Twig that there was a chance this guy had known what the jerks were doing. He wondered if it had occurred to the unicorns too.


    Probably.


    ¡°Could their sentencing perhaps be delayed?¡± the weaselly fellow was asking. ¡°Just until my successor is chosen. They should have a say in such a momentous decision.¡±


    =If you cannot make the decision, we will make it for you. I will happily put them to death myself. Either way, the sentencing happens now.=


    ¡°Magical nullification it is, then.¡±


    Without another word, that human¡¯s glow-bubble floated to the side and the unhappy villains were moved front and center. They didn¡¯t look pleased to be there.


    Magic sparkled around Harmony, lighting her up in a hiss of glitter that sprang from every other unicorn as well. The sparks glowed brighter, seeming to sear Twig¡¯s vision so that their centers looked black. Then the blackness grew into a malevolent cloud, feeding from all of the other unicorns to make a thunderhead over Harmony, edged in piercing light.


    Before Twig could fully process how glad he was not to be on the receiving end of that, the cloud flew into five parts and sank into the humans¡¯ heads. They couldn¡¯t collapse dramatically, held in place as they were by the glow-balls, but they looked more than a little distressed.


    Then all the sparkling was done, and the mage lines were gone from the humans as if they¡¯d never been there.


    Harmony appeared in front of Twig, to his great alarm. =Don¡¯t think I¡¯ve forgotten about you, little one.=


    ¡°What?¡± Twig squeaked.


    =You don¡¯t need that extra magic anymore.=


    ¡°Oh.¡± When she started to glow again, he added, ¡°Please don¡¯t take my own with it!¡±


    =Of course not.= Harmony and the herd all lit up a different color this time, closer to his own gold, and he tried not to be overly worried while they removed the connection to the human¡¯s stash of power. It was a different process from when she¡¯d done it with Razorscale. Simpler. The addition of all other unicorns probably helped. Or maybe it was just easier to cut the strands than to move them.


    Either way, it didn¡¯t hurt. Twig was a little sad to say goodbye to his time as The Fastest Pixie Ever, but it was probably for the best. Who knew what other human magicians might come after him if he took that link home?


    =There,= Harmony said, stepping back. =That¡¯s settled. Now all that remains is to see who wins this competition.= She cast a look at the human king. =And see whether your successor is an ally or an enemy.=

 Chapter 32

    Razorscale closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of sun on his wings again. The human competition went on below him, under the watchful eyes of the unicorn elite who had made themselves a viewing platform atop the wall. It was built of pure magic and large enough to fit Razorscale himself comfortably beside them, to say nothing of the smaller people as well. He had to be careful not to step on them. He¡¯d missed that.


    Razorscale felt his patience returning. Things that would have irritated him earlier ¡ª like Twig zipping about and narrating the goings-on, or Beak grooming her wings and sending feather dust everywhere ¡ª these barely caught his attention now. Windmane was comparing notes with Stomp about the return of their proper eyesight. Where Razorscale would have expected complaints, there was only relief and joy.


    As it should be, Razorscale thought. I might not even bother to hunt down that human intermediary with the shop. I did plan to eat him, but it might not be worth it. He settled lower on the platform. The other humans would probably complain.


    The human magicians who had been helpful while he and Silver were captured had left to rejoin their companions in a viewing box somewhere. They were properly respectful. At least some of the humans here could be trusted. He probably shouldn¡¯t upset them with a messy execution.


    And besides, the unicorns will catch up to him anyway. Razorscale smiled, eyes still closed. There¡¯s no way he¡¯ll be getting off lightly. I wonder if Harmony favors death magic, or if she¡¯s not afraid to get her horn dirty.


    Far below him, human magicians repaired the hole in the wall alongside the competition. Twig flitted past Razorscale¡¯s ear, saying something complimentary about the green handkerchief that a human had given him for clothing. Windmane laughed at a joke from Beak, both of them sounding more lighthearted than they had in the entire time Razorscale had known them. The apprentice was silent, basking happily in the sun like Razorscale himself.


    Then a mighty cheer rose from the stands, and Razorscale¡¯s eyes flew open. Someone had won the contest. Someone that not all of the audience was in favor of.


    The cluster of robed humans in the center of the field looked like any other. Razorscale glanced at the unicorns for a clue as to whether this was a favorable outcome. Four-Chord Harmony¡¯s head and tail were both high, radiating smugness if Razorscale was any judge of body language.


    Razorscale brought his head down to her level. ¡°Are those the ones you wanted, then?¡± he asked casually. It wouldn¡¯t do to let on that he had no idea who the new monarchs were.


    =Oh yes,= Harmony replied. =They ought to give us no trouble, and at the same time they will upset our enemies immensely.=


    ¡°Really,¡± Razorscale said. (Never mind saving face; this sounded important.) ¡°Do tell.¡±


    =Those,= Harmony said, pointing with her horn, =Are the peasants.=


    ¡°The what?¡±


    Her voice rang with delight. =The ones who weren¡¯t supposed to win; they weren¡¯t even meant to advance past the first round. Apparently the nobles here have convinced the entire nation that only some bloodlines can wield magic, but a group from the lower class has proved them wrong.=


    ¡°I did hear something about that,¡± Razorscale said, thinking back to the eavesdropping he did at the ball. ¡°I¡¯m surprised they were able to hone enough skill in secret to defeat the experts.¡±


    =That¡¯s the best part,= Harmony said, beaming. =They didn¡¯t. The surprise round of the contest ¡ª that thing they were doing teleported elsewhere, with the viewport ¡ª it took place in a null magic chamber.=


    ¡°What?¡± Razorscale said again. ¡°I should have watched more closely. Who decided on that?¡±


    =The previous monarch. Knowing the usual level of corruption here, he set that ¡®surprise¡¯ and then told the candidates he favored how to prepare for it. But none of them planned for competitors who actually knew how to do things without magic!=


    ¡°Amazing,¡± Razorscale said. ¡°And do we think those favored candidates were¡­?¡±


    =Oh yes, I¡¯m pretty sure that they¡¯re the ones currently magicless and imprisoned. I¡¯ll be keeping a close eye on this now-former ruler. Speaking of which, I should send some pixies to report on him. If you¡¯ll excuse me.=


    Harmony turned away. Razorscale bent to confer with his apprentice.


    ¡°Did you see into the viewport earlier?¡± he muttered.


    ¡°I caught a bit of it,¡± the apprentice said. ¡°Something about compelling a donkey to move a certain distance without the help of magic.¡±


    Razorscale laughed loudly at that, then had to apologize to the four non-dragons he¡¯d startled by doing so.


    ¡°Anyways,¡± he said to his apprentice, ¡°That¡¯s all wonderfully humiliating for the right people. My only concern is whether it means we¡¯re in for a resurgence of the wild times of human wizardry.¡±


    The apprentice¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Oh, I hope not. The world doesn¡¯t need more bizarre near-human races. No offense.¡± This last was said over their shoulder to the centaur, harpy, minotaur, and pixie, not one of whom knew what they meant.


    ¡°What?¡± Twig asked.


    ¡°Ask your elders,¡± Razorscale said. ¡°Or someone else¡¯s elders. Someone with access to a library that¡¯s older than your species.¡± He refused to explain further, and thankfully the pixie left it at that.


    The apprentice looked thoughtful. ¡°Four-Chord Harmony said that the new leaders will cooperate. Maybe we can impress upon them the importance of not letting their subjects create things without supervision of some kind.¡±


    Razorscale nodded. ¡°Yes, that was my thought. Intimidation and oversight as needed.¡±


    When the pandemonium below settled into calm human pageantry, there proved to be a time for the new monarchs to give their regards to any visiting nobles or other important personages. Razorscale was gratified to see that he and Harmony were the first on the list. And Harmony didn¡¯t need any suggestions about what to impress upon the humans.


    =We congratulate you on your win,= she said to the nine humans on their own hovering platform. =And we look forward to working with you in a peaceful partnership. But I must warn you: based on your predecessors¡¯ behavior, we will be watching MOST closely. Any sign of behavior that infringes upon other peoples will be punished harshly. And, given the cultural brainwashing that you have all suffered, we will be gifting your nation copies of some history books that I suggest EVERYONE reads.=


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    The spokeswoman for the group thanked her with the right mix of gratitude and humility. Razorscale only had to add a minor threat about unchecked magework, which they took well.


    Then, to his surprise, the humans had a request.


    ¡°You may have noticed that we have some enemies,¡± the woman said. ¡°Our supporters are largely in the lower class, while the nation¡¯s most powerful people may stoop to underhanded means to get rid of us. While we deeply appreciate what you have already done to take out several bad actors, might we ask for some show of support from your various homelands?¡± She addressed this part to Razorscale and the small group at his side.


    Razorscale thought about it while Twig and the others immediately volunteered.


    ¡°Of course!¡± Twig said. ¡°My hive will happily be friends!¡±


    ¡°My herd too,¡± agreed Stomp. ¡°For what it¡¯s worth.¡±


    ¡°And mine,¡± said Windmane.


    ¡°Yeah, my people will do that,¡± Beak said. ¡°You know, I¡¯ll bet the orcs would throw in an endorsement too.¡±


    Twig swooped in a circle. ¡°And the gorgons!¡±


    The human looked up at Razorscale pointedly.


    He sighed. ¡°Yes. While I won¡¯t enjoy admitting what I went through, every dragon will want to know that this spell has been cast, and its casters neutralized. You will have dragon support as opponents of that.¡±


    ¡°Excellent!¡± the human said. ¡°Even a simple public message of endorsement will do much to sway public opinion to a place where we can govern successfully. As much as the mage families hate us, they¡¯ll think twice about acting against us if it means displeasing all of you.¡±


    Razorscale nodded. ¡°As they should.¡±


    The talk turned to a brief discussion of details before the new monarchs were obliged to move on and greet other dignitaries. Before leaving, the spokeswoman made sure to impress upon Razorscale and the others that their goal was nothing short of an overhaul of the nation¡¯s approach to magic. Not only would it be taught to all citizens, but its purpose would be for the betterment of the nation, not for political infighting.


    Razorscale privately thought that was a bit much to expect from a ten-year reign, but he let them be idealistic. Who knew, maybe they¡¯d surprise him and actually make headway. Stranger things had happened. Many in fact, and recently.


    Things got a bit chaotic after that. Razorscale just wanted to spread his wings for home, but there were more conversations with officials to be had ¡ª mainly human, but some unicorn. Windmane wanted to be sure they didn¡¯t leave behind the packs of belongings that were currently at some human¡¯s house, and Twig wanted to say goodbye to the children there.


    Razorscale sighed mightily enough to blow Twig off-course, and reminded himself that he was free to leave as soon as there was no nagging sense of responsibility. This was a historical event, after all. Better to tie up all the loose ends. Even if that meant waiting while low-ranking unicorns showed off their teleportation spells to ferry people back and forth.


    The stadium emptied once the festivities were ended, which left the field as a meeting point that the humans could reach without straining their own abilities. By the time all the belongings were gathered and the farewells were said, the sun had lowered from its toasty peak to something less pleasant.


    But Razorscale could be patient. And as much as he looked forward to flying again, the unicorns had offered to teleport the entire group back to their respective homes. As soon as they were ready.


    ¡°Hey, we should send a messenger to the dryads too,¡± Windmane suggested. ¡°They¡¯re a neutral party and all that, but I¡¯m sure they don¡¯t like the fact that the shape-stealing spell happened in their territory. And what if it had targeted them?¡±


    Stomp agreed that that was a great point. So did the nearest unicorn. Razorscale stared at the sky and was patient.


    Finally they were ready to leave. Razorscale and his apprentice said their goodbyes to Harmony, and then to the rest of the formerly-temporarily-humans.


    ¡°Thank you for everything,¡± Windmane said. ¡°We wouldn¡¯t have made it without you. Both of you! And thank you for the loan of your flying carpet; it really made life bearable.¡±


    ¡°Keep it,¡± Razorscale said. At her enthusiastic gratitude, he added, ¡°Ah, it was just for moving stock around at the fair. I can get another one easily enough.¡±


    ¡°I will treasure it forever,¡± she assured him, which seemed a bit much, but who was he to judge?


    Stomp also thanked him. ¡°Your leadership was efficient and intelligent,¡± she said, both of which were true. ¡°We were lucky to have you. And good luck with your studies, Silver! You are priceless as well.¡±


    Both dragons dipped their heads in acknowledgement. Razorscale told her, ¡°You have more leadership potential than you realize. I wish upon you both confidence and peace.¡± His apprentice nodded vigorously.


    Beak was less sentimental. ¡°What they said,¡± she told him. ¡°It¡¯s been a pleasure getting stuck in horrible circumstances with you.¡±


    Razorscale smiled. ¡°And with you. Fly well.¡±


    The harpy had barely stepped aside before there was a pixie in his face.


    ¡°Hey, before we go, I was thinking,¡± Twig started.


    ¡°Oh no,¡± Razorscale said flatly.


    ¡°You know how some spells don¡¯t go away completely? They leave traces behind, or they can be reactivated more easily than they should¡ª¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Razorscale interrupted.


    Twig kept talking. ¡°I was wondering if this one, being a new thing and all, well what if we accidentally turn human again?¡±


    ¡°We won¡¯t,¡± Razorscale told him.


    ¡°But how do you know for sure?¡± Twig insisted. ¡°It¡¯s new; no one¡¯s studied it yet. I feel like we could get a random potion splashed on us, or sneeze while casting another spell, or just, I dunno, think too hard¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± Razorscale said.


    Too late.


    The pixie, whose tiny brain fairly rattled in his skull as he moved, had thought too hard about it.


    With a flutter of the handkerchief drifting toward the ground, Twig suddenly stood in human form. ¡°Wow, I was right!¡±


    Razorscale swore a blistering oath about egg yolks and salt. He had so hoped that none of them would think to try that. He¡¯d seen the traces that were left as the spell failed. And of course it was Twig to do it!


    While the assembled others exclaimed in surprise, Twig scrunched up his face again and popped back into pixie size. Then back and forth. While laughing wildly.


    ¡°LOOook at THIS!¡± he shouted, changing volume as he did.


    Then, to make matters worse, the other three tried it too.


    ¡°Wow,¡± Stomp said as a human. She continued as a minotaur, ¡°That¡¯s a surprise.¡±


    ¡°Hey, nice,¡± Beak said. She flexed human fingers, then harpy wings. ¡°If I want to prank the kids or pick up tiny things, this might actually be useful.¡±


    Windmane was the last to try it, but once she saw the others return to their proper forms without issue, she gave it a go. She teetered on two feet and immediately changed back, but she smiled once she did. ¡°This might help me NOT have nightmares about getting stuck as a human again.¡±


    Twig zipped forward in pixie form. ¡°Yeah, and you can learn to walk at your own pace!¡±


    ¡°Pfft, maybe.¡±


    Beak craned her neck upwards. ¡°You gonna give it a try, bigwing? Surely you can admit it¡¯d be useful to be small sometimes.¡±


    Razorscale huffed in exasperation. ¡°I already could,¡± he said. ¡°Shapeshifting is a master-level spell in most dragon schools.¡±


    The apprentice spoke up. ¡°I can¡¯t wait to learn, honestly. It looks fun.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you start.¡± Razorscale frowned down at the youth.


    Harmony stepped forward. =This is enlightening information about the spell. I recommend that you not spread the knowledge around.=


    ¡°Good luck,¡± Razorscale said while Twig practiced changing size in midair.


    =Let me rephrase that,= she said more loudly. =If you must show off this ability, then you are obligated to explain that it was the result of a great crime committed upon you. And an offense to many.=


    ¡°Got it!¡± Twig said as he breezed by.


    Razorscale sighed. ¡°He might remember that.¡±


    =Hmm.=


    When Beak started the midair stunts too, with Stomp and Windmane cheering her on, Razorscale rolled his eyes and turned to his too-eager apprentice. ¡°Home now,¡± he announced. ¡°Goodbye, everyone! May we meet in better circumstances, or not at all.¡±


    Beak waved at him. ¡°Aw, we love you too! Fly well!¡±


    Razorscale shook his head and caught the attention of the unicorn who was their designated teleporter. As soon as he and the apprentice were both standing with packs in hand, the unicorn waved a travel bubble around them.


    Razorscale and his apprentice headed home at long last, leaving the sound of cheerful tomfoolery behind.


    He wouldn¡¯t admit it to a soul, but Razorscale planned to try this new shapeshifting as soon as his privacy was assured. It looked much easier than the master-level spell.


    Not that he expected to ever use it, of course. Being human was unpleasant. But ¡­ just in case.