Chapter Four

THE NEXT MORNING RAYNA AND ELLUKKA came by to collect the two wolves for breakfast, leading them down the hallways with the lamps that slowly glowed to life as they approached and then faded out as they passed. Anders wondered if the meal would be in a dining hall like the one at Ulfar, with long tables of dragons. He was tense just imagining it.

He wished he had more chances to talk to Rayna. He’d expected they’d somehow end up in a room together, but she and Ellukka were sharing a room, and when he’d asked if he and Lisabet would stay in the guest room, the dragon bringing them more clothes and other supplies had said they would. Anders had got the distinct impression that although their door wouldn’t be locked again, the dragons wanted to know where the two wolves were at all times.

It turned out breakfast was in a much smaller cavern than at Ulfar, packed with little tables instead of long ones, the whole room occupied by perhaps twenty dragons, many of whom didn’t seem to know that either Anders or Lisabet was anyone unusual. Ellukka sent the wolves to sit at a table with Rayna and plunged into the queue along one wall to find them breakfast.

“Dragons move around a lot,” Rayna said as she thumped down onto a bench, then shuffled over to make room for Anders beside her. “Lots of them don’t have what they’d really consider a home, they just have a lot of different places they stay. That’s why there are cupboards full of spare clothes, guest bedrooms everywhere. There’s usually about two hundred at Drekhelm, but there’s lots more right now, because of the equinox, and because the whole Dragonmeet is here at once. Those of us in the Finskól are wherever Leif is, but he’s almost always here at Drekhelm. He arranges our meals and our rooms.”

Ellukka returned with the food, setting down a platter of buttered dark bread, slices of meat and cheese, and a jug of milk, then producing four mugs from where she’d stowed them precariously in her pockets. The four of them fell silent for a little as they ate and drank, and Anders listened to the worried hubbub around him. He caught only snatches of conversation—he heard the Snowstone mentioned, the Dragonmeet—and kept his head down.

“Today you’ll probably discuss what you’re going to study with Leif,” Ellukka said. “And you’ll meet the other six students. They’re all older than we are.”

“What are they like?” Anders asked.

“Some are nicer than others,” Rayna replied, wrinkling her nose. “And we like Mikkel and Theo best. But they’re all clever. You can see why he chose them.” The nose wrinkle gave way to a quick, dimpled smile. “Same reason he chose us. We’re brilliant.”

The others laughed, and Anders did too, a moment later. He’d been caught looking at Rayna, finding his own face in hers. He had that same dimple, he wrinkled his nose just like she did. They were both holding their slices of bread exactly the same way in their right hands, come to that, their left hands curled around their mugs.

Leif had said he believed the two of them were related, however impossible Anders had always been taught that was, and Anders was determined to believe it. To learn more and prove it. This place felt nothing like home, but he had friends and family here, and he mustn’t forget that.

He knew what he wanted to study at the Finskól—his heritage, his history, who he was. What he was, and what he could do. The more he knew, the better his chances of mastering his powers. Of protecting himself, Rayna, and Lisabet.

Mikkel and Theo showed up toward the end of breakfast to collect them, and the six of them made their way to class together, Rayna slinging her arm around Anders’s shoulders, which was a little tricky, because he was taller than she was. Still, it felt better than good to have her at his side again, and he felt foolish for his reaction to her haircut the night before. It did look good, and just as he’d formed bonds to his pack, she’d formed bonds here. It didn’t lessen their own. As she gave him a squeeze, he noticed once again that the heat radiating from her skin actually felt good. This newfound tolerance to—even enjoyment of—heat made him a little more certain that the clue to his icefire was to be found in his ties to both wolves and the dragon girl by his side.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Ellukka burst out behind them, causing Lisabet to laugh, and the others to turn around to check on her. “I’m not wearing any harness,” she said, all indignation. “Just because dogs wear leashes, doesn’t mean dragons wear . . .”

Anders was having trouble not laughing at the outrage in her expression, and Rayna, Theo, and Mikkel didn’t bother trying to restrain themselves.

“Firstly,” said Lisabet with dignity, though her mouth was still twitching to a smile, “‘dog’ isn’t an insult like you think it is. We’re wolves, not dogs, but dogs are tough, loyal, and intelligent. And secondly, isn’t it just like wearing clothes?”

Ellukka snorted, turning her attention to the other dragons. “She wants me to wear a harness when I’m transformed, so she can ride me,” she informed them. “And stop laughing. Would a little support kill you?”

“We’re not allowed far from Drekhelm right now anyway,” Rayna said, fighting to keep her face straight. “But it would be a safer way to all move together.”

“Why would I want to do that?” Ellukka asked. “When I got there, I’d just have a wolf with me, what’s the point?”

Rayna dissolved into giggles once more. “I’m sorry, you have to admit it’s a clever idea. It can’t be easy holding on otherwise. It might be useful for the people up here who don’t transform, or for the children who haven’t tried yet. Aren’t you worried one of them will fall off one day?”

Ellukka pushed out her lower lip, considering, as Lisabet wisely remained silent. “I suppose,” she said eventually. “Maybe.”

The conversation broke off as they arrived in the classroom. It was a largish room already occupied by a few students seated at two long tables, both strewn with books and papers left there from previous lessons. There were bookshelves down either side, packed with books, boxes, and the occasional artifact, and a tall window with an arched top stood at the end of the room, looking out onto the mountains. It was sealed with thick glass, completely transparent in some places and a little opaque in others, thick strips of lead dividing it up into square panes. Anders was caught for a long moment, staring out at the peaks that stretched away to the northwest, growing higher and higher, flawlessly capped with white snow, until they vanished into the clouds altogether.

Then a voice yanked his attention back to the room. “Are these the wolves?”

The speaker was a short girl dressed all in black, unusual in a dragon—different from the others Anders had met so far. Her equally black hair was in two long braids down her back, and her skin was a deep brown, almost a match for her dress. She looked only a couple of years older than Anders, but she carried herself as though she was infinitely superior.

She sat next to a tall, thin boy with startlingly blue eyes in a white face, and a shock of black hair that flopped over his forehead. He was about the same age as she was, and he shared her sneer.

“Anders, Lisabet,” said Ellukka, in the politest tone he’d heard from her so far—though also the frostiest—“this is Krissin, who’s studying sciences, and Nico, who’s studying mathematics.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Anders said, and as Lisabet echoed his words, he almost sensed, rather than saw, Rayna rolling her eyes beside him.

“You can sit at the other table,” Krissin told them, flipping one braid over her shoulder. Anders was only too happy to oblige.

“Yes,” said one of the girls at the other table, pushing aside some books to make a clear space. “Come on over and sit here.” She shuffled along the bench she was sitting on, her long sheet of jet-black hair, which hung down past her waist, rippling like water as she moved. She was athletically built, and looked like she had ancestors from Ohiro, like Theo did—and Viktoria, back at Ulfar. The boy opposite her had a broad grin that made it look like he’d already been up to mischief nobody knew about, tousled blond hair, and twinkling green eyes behind a pair of glasses.

“I’m Ferdie,” he said. “I’m studying medicine.”

“But really,” the girl said wryly, “he’s here because Leif realized he charms everyone he meets, so he thought someone better teach Ferdie how to lead, since he’s bound to be in charge one day.”

Ferdie simply laughed but didn’t deny the charge. “And this is Bryn,” he said, pointing to his companion. “Languages. All of them, as far as I can tell.” He pointed farther down the table at a girl with very pale skin, a tangle of curly brown hair, and a smudge of grease on her nose, who was bent over a small contraption, ignoring the rest of the group. “And that’s Isabina, our mechanic.”

Isabina lifted a hand to wave a greeting without looking up, carefully moving a cog into place with a pair of tweezers.

“And that’s everyone,” Ellukka said, settling down beside Ferdie, and hunting through the papers on the desk for the ones that presumably belonged to her. “Except Patrik, he’ll be along at the last minute.”

Rayna thumped down beside Ellukka, and after a moment, Anders and Lisabet took their places opposite the girls, leaving Krissin and Nico to have the whole other table to themselves. Mikkel and Theo located whatever they were working on farther down the table, near Isabina.

The final student of the twelve arrived just as Leif did, a solemn boy with long brown hair, trailing in behind the Drekleid. “Patrik, he studies art,” Rayna supplied in a whisper as the boy sat down near Nico and Krissin. But with their teacher present, everyone was pulling out their projects, and Anders wasn’t sure what to do. Lisabet was riffling through the papers in front of them, oohing and aahing over what she was finding.

“Anders,” said Leif. “Please come join me at my desk, let’s speak about your studies.”

Anders rose from his chair, walking up to the front of the room, where Leif’s desk was piled high with papers, artifacts, and other detritus. The Drekleid moved a pile of coats to the ground, revealing a second chair, and when Anders sat on it, the piles on the desk hid all the other students from view.

“Good morning,” said Leif, running a hand through his red hair, getting himself settled. Though he had been more welcoming than most so far, he still made Anders nervous. Perhaps it was six years of living on the streets of Holbard that had made him automatically wary of authority figures. Or, his mind supplied, perhaps it’s the fact that he’s all that’s standing between you and being thrown out of Drekhelm as well as Ulfar.

“Good morning,” Anders said, trying to sound as studious as possible.

“Have the others explained how the Finskól works?” Leif asked.

“Yes,” said Anders, deciding to plunge in. He needed to suggest his own course of study—an investigation into what he could do—before Leif set him to learning reading and writing, like Rayna. “I want to study—”

“Just a moment,” Leif interrupted him. “There’s no hurry. We’ll begin with the basics, improving your reading and writing. We dragons take our time over important questions. We might be slow, but we reach the right decision.”

Anders’s heart sank. He was remembering what Ellukka had said the night before—that the Dragonmeet had talked all day, yet reached no agreement. Even with the danger of the Snowstone, they couldn’t seem to hurry. The wolves were the opposite, of course—Sigrid made a decision, and then everyone did as they were told. That had its drawbacks too, but he wanted to know more about himself, to figure out more about what he could do, and why.

“I could do reading and writing alongside other studies,” Anders suggested.

“The way of dragons has always served us,” Leif replied.

“But I’m not a dragon, Leif,” Anders said carefully.

“Even so.”

Anders took a slow breath and kept trying, hoping a question might interest the Drekleid. “Leif, do you know what I am? I mean, who I am?”

“I must research the question before I can answer you properly,” Leif replied gravely, and Anders’s heart sank. Theo’s entire specialty at the Finskól was the dragons’ records and research, because even a newcomer like Theo could tell it was impossible to find anything here.

Between the dragons’ tendency to think things over forever and the impossibility of finding information, Anders had a horrible feeling he could wait years for Leif’s conclusions. And all the while, the wolves would be preparing for war, and the dragons would be talking, talking, talking.

“I know you’re impatient on many fronts,” Leif said, reading his expression. “But you must apply yourself to your studies and let the Dragonmeet handle the question of what to do next, Anders.”

Anders wanted badly to argue, but he couldn’t see how. He wanted to rush the dragons, to explain how urgent things were, but when it came down to it, he was the one who’d brought matters to a head.

Professor Ennar would have used the chalice herself if he hadn’t stolen it, so the wolves would still know broadly where the dragons were, but they might have spent months, or at least weeks, scouting the mountains for the exact location of Drekhelm. They certainly wouldn’t have attacked already, and they wouldn’t have stolen the Snowstone. Things would still be locked in the same tense stalemate, and that itself was a kind of peace.

On the other hand, the dragons wouldn’t even know they were in danger without his warning about Fylkir’s chalice, so there was an argument that Anders had done them a favor.

On the third hand—or paw, really, this was why you needed paws—the dragons didn’t really seem to plan on actually doing anything about it, even though they did know.

He’d have to find out the answers on his own. But perhaps there was one thing Leif might know something about, or at least be able to include in his promised research into who or what Anders might be.

Anders told Leif what he’d noticed about his new tolerance for heat—that ever since the icefire, it didn’t seem to bother him in the way it used to—the way it always bothered wolves. But the Drekleid only frowned thoughtfully and made a note on one of his dozens of files.

Ten minutes later it was Lisabet’s turn to talk to Leif, and Anders found himself at the back of the classroom, sitting beside the window with a surprisingly patient Ellukka, whom Leif had asked to help him with his reading for the morning. She kept accidentally diverting into telling him stories—he could see why she was specializing in doing exactly that, because she was wonderful at it—and they spent more time quietly talking than looking at the reading primer she’d chosen.

It was a book of old stories, probably for small children, and in the front was a map showing where each of the tales took place. She had him read out each place-name one at a time, and then she’d describe it to him. She’d flown over all of them and knew how to bring them to life for him.

“This one’s two words put together as one,” she said, pointing to a spot in a high mountain range to the northwest of Drekhelm—one that almost formed a line between the dragon stronghold and the Flic Waterfall, where the dragon who’d been a genius with gardens had once kept her workshop.

Anders studied it for a moment, and the words clicked into place in his brain. “Cloudhaven,” he said. “What story happened there?”

“There are lots of different versions,” Ellukka said, looking out the window at the mountains that stretched away into the distance. “You see over there on the horizon, where the mountains lift up so high they disappear into the clouds? Beyond that is Cloudhaven. They say it’s where the very first dragonsmiths discovered how to use their flame to forge artifacts. It’s higher than any of the other mountains, and nobody’s sure what’s really at the top. The clouds never clear. But if the legends are true, then there’s an abandoned workshop there, and who knows what kinds of secrets. It’s forbidden to go there now.”

Anders stared through the uneven glass of the window, studying the place where the mountains disappeared into the clouds. He wondered what the very first dragonsmiths had been like—he wondered what the very first wolf designers had been like. What kind of artifacts had they made together? Had they worked together to discover their gifts, or had they mistrusted each other as much as wolves and dragons did today, only coming together because they had no choice?

The lessons continued all day. For a couple of hours Leif taught the group, just as Anders’s teachers at Ulfar had, but most of the time they studied independently, each reading or experimenting or learning about their own areas. Leif helped Bryn find an old text on Mositalan verbs, and walked Nico through a mathematical formula until he understood it. He seemed to know a little of everything, and was endlessly interested and patient.

Anders came away in the late afternoon feeling as if his brain was crammed full of facts and ideas, plus even more questions than he’d begun the day with.

Over the next few days, his lessons continued. Ellukka spent each morning with him, telling him stories and helping with his reading. Mikkel started to join them sometimes to help fill in the history, and Theo came to sit near them and listen—as a new dragon himself, he had a lot to learn. Rayna sometimes had reading lessons with Lisabet, and sometimes the two of them would join the others in the back of the classroom. Rayna and Theo left now and again for flying lessons—flying was mostly instinctive, but practice made perfect—returning with huge smiles every time.

Ferdie dropped through to see what Anders and the others were working on occasionally, just for fun. Bryn came by and showed them how words in different languages were sometimes the same as their own. Even Isabina looked up from her machines once in a while, though Krissin, Nico, and Patrik kept their distance. Always, Leif was there, sometimes teaching them himself, sometimes joining their conversation for a few minutes, guiding them toward a new idea or a new question.

There were times when Anders was so fascinated by the stories he heard and the new ideas that piled into his brain, and so absorbed in his lessons, that he forgot he was a wolf among dragons. He forgot that it was only Leif’s invitation to the Finskól that was keeping him safe at all.

Nevertheless, he began to learn his way around, and to think that Drekhelm really might be a place he and Rayna could live, if only they could fit in. The idea of he and his twin living anywhere—expecting their next meal without wondering where it would come from, putting on clean clothes every day—was still so strange he barely knew what to make of it.

But each time he was nearly comfortable, an older dragon would scowl at him as he walked down the hallway, or Nico and Krissin would whisper to each other, staring at him as they did.

Or Leif would leave the classroom to attend the Dragonmeet, and come back with a grim expression, or Anders would hear a murmur about the Snowstone. Most mornings Ellukka would show up at breakfast to report that her father said the Dragonmeet had met again the night before, talking and talking of what they might do about the possibility of wolf attack, without ever making any progress.

Sooner or later, Sigrid would make her move, and Anders wished he knew what to do to be ready. More and more, he saw he had to do something—because nobody else would.

One day nearly a week after his arrival at Drekhelm, Anders stayed back in the classroom at lunchtime to work on his latest lesson. Theo was on the other side of the table, trying to stop one of his giant stacks of records from falling over before he joined the others.

“What’re you working on?” he asked Anders, experimentally letting go of his pile, and then grabbing it again when it started to topple.

“I’m . . .” Anders wasn’t sure how to answer. “I’m trying to learn how to learn, I guess. I have so many questions.”

“Hey, that’s basically what I do,” Theo said, lighting up with a grin, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. Theo was never short on energy. “Research, archives, figuring out where and how to store information so we can find it again when we need it, or even just figure out what questions to ask. I’m going to be a dragon librarian eventually. They really need one here at Drekhelm. What are you trying to figure out right now?”

Anders looked across at the other boy, weighing his reply. Did he dare risk an honest answer? Perhaps he could—Theo might be happy at Drekhelm, but he had family back in Holbard, and surely he’d be worried about them.

“I’m trying to figure out ten things at once,” Anders admitted. “I want badly to know what’s happening in Holbard. What Sigrid’s going to do with the Snowstone. What they’re all saying about Lisabet and me. I want to know who I am, and what I am.” The words kept tumbling out, and he found he couldn’t stop them. He didn’t even know what he was going to say next, until he found himself saying it. “I want to know what I should do. About the wolves, and the Snowstone. Because I don’t think the Dragonmeet’s going to do anything.”

Theo nodded slowly. “All they ever do is talk,” he agreed quietly. “I’ve noticed too. And they don’t seem to understand that just because it’s the dragon way that doesn’t mean there’s time for it. If the wolves have the Snowstone and they know where we are, they’re not going to wait around forever to attack.”

“Exactly,” Anders agreed. “But I have no idea what we can do, or what we should do. I thought maybe if I could figure out something about my icefire, I’d know how to protect us against it, but one wolf against an artifact that can affect the whole country?”

“Well,” said Theo slowly. “I don’t have an answer for that. But maybe I can help you with the other questions. Come with me.”

They shored up Theo’s stack of paper together and left the classroom, making their way through the hallways of Drekhelm toward the archives—the long series of caves filled with old files, records and books, artifacts and abandoned experiments, and creations left behind by generations long gone. The archives were a kind of combination library and storeroom, totally disorganized.

“How could you ever find anything in there?” Anders asked, looking through the doorway to the next cave. “Everything’s everywhere.”

“You’re telling me,” Theo agreed. “When they abandoned Old Drekhelm after the last great battle and moved here, they just hauled everything with them and dumped it, and I think everyone’s been too intimidated to go through it ever since. I’m probably going to spend the rest of my life on it, but I bet I’ll discover some amazing stuff. There are so many artifacts just lying around that nobody uses. I found one in the infirmary the other day being used as a paperweight! And it’s supposed to be for keeping pots of tea warm. And look at Rayna’s hairpins, they’re the perfect example of an artifact doing a mundane job. I don’t know what they’re for, but I bet there’s a record in here somewhere that would tell us, if we only knew where to look.”

“Rayna’s hairpins?” Anders was momentarily distracted from how overwhelming the collection of books, artifacts, and records was. “What do you mean?”

“Well, they’ve got runes on them,” Theo pointed out. “And they’re copper, right? They’ve got to be some kind of artifact.”

Anders and Rayna had wondered that themselves, sometimes—they didn’t know where Rayna had gotten them from, but they were the only thing that, no matter how desperate, the twins had never traded. And now a new thought struck Anders: if he and his sister really did have dragon blood in their veins, perhaps the hairpins had even come from family.

But Theo was climbing over a large, spindly artifact with lots of arms or legs or appendages of some sort, and pulling a huge book down from a shelf. It was the size of one of the giant Skraboks in the library back at Ulfar Academy.

“These are the old records,” Theo said. “I’m still going through them, but there are lots of things in here that talk about ways to see what’s happening somewhere else. And that would answer some of your questions about what’s happening in Holbard. I don’t know where most of the things in this book are, but if we at least know what we’re looking for, we could come back here and search through the caves. I bet the others would help, or some of them, anyway.”

Anders climbed in over the machine to look over Theo’s shoulder as the other boy turned the pages. Theo could read more quickly than Anders, so he scanned each description and paused whenever he found one that talked about long-distance observation or communication. Some artifacts were marked down as lost or broken, and some were marked down as “intact.”

“That means they’re in here somewhere,” Theo said, pulling his smooth black hair into a ponytail again, when it tried to fall into his eyes. “Someone’s seen them and tested them and written it in here.”

He turned the page again, and a jolt went through Anders at the illustration he saw. It was a large mirror, with dragons forged into the metal frame down one side of it, and a pack of wolves running down the other. He had no idea where he’d seen it before, but it looked familiar. “What’s this one?” he asked, staring down at it.

“Communication mirror,” Theo replied. “You can see and hear what’s on the other end, and so can the person who has the matching one. They’re relatively common, but most of them have one of the pair broken these days. And of course the other one has to be somewhere useful. This symbol here means it’s intact, though, our mirror. Wherever it is.”

Was the other one somewhere useful? Had Anders seen this design in the last few days here at Drekhelm, or was he remembering it from someplace in Holbard? And if so, where?

Suddenly a deep voice sounded from behind them. “Can I help you?” It was Valerius, Ellukka’s father, and he didn’t look pleased to see them. His brows crowded together in a frown, a line forming between them. “What are the two of you up to?”

Theo promptly eased the big book closed. They both knew without saying a word that it wouldn’t be a good idea to admit to a member of the Dragonmeet that they’d been looking up artifacts that might let them see—or even contact—people in Holbard. “I was showing Anders my work,” Theo said, radiating innocence.

“Anders doesn’t have permission to be in here,” Valerius replied. “This is not an area for sightseeing tours, Theo.”

“Apologies,” Theo said politely. “It’s time we were going to lunch anyway.”

The two boys climbed out of the middle of the machine and walked out under Valerius’s watchful eye. And as he followed Theo through the door, Anders racked his brain, trying in vain to think where he’d seen the matching mirror before.

Nearly everybody struggled to concentrate in class that afternoon. At first Anders didn’t notice, he was so caught up in thinking about the mirror and wondering if it could give him a way to find out what was happening in Holbard, and what Sigrid was planning. But then Ellukka forgot the thread of her story three times, and quiet Isabina dropped her latest invention, sending pieces skittering across the classroom floor in every direction.

Rayna and Mikkel hunted for their books all over the classroom, lifting up everyone’s sheaves of paper and disrupting all the other students, only to realize they’d left them on the table in front of their usual seats. Even Nico and Krissin didn’t seem to be in the mood to snipe at anyone.

And when Leif noticed the disruption at all, he seemed to have been jolted from his own daydream, looking up at the chaos his students were creating and blinking in slow surprise.

“What’s going on?” Lisabet asked plaintively, looking around her at the dragons in disarray.

“We all have bad days sometimes,” Leif answered absently.

“This isn’t a bad day,” Krissin replied, irritable, which was unusual—normally she kept that tone for her fellow students, rather than her teacher. “This is everyone having a disaster afternoon at once.”

“And I’m freezing,” Nico said with a scowl, drawing grumbles of agreement from all around the room. Anders looked across at Rayna, and his heart thumped as he saw his sister’s shoulders hunched over, her eyes dull as she hugged herself.

It was Lisabet who suddenly saw what was happening. “It’s the weather,” she said. “It is cold. I was feeling particularly good, the best I’ve felt since we’ve arrived. I feel like I can really concentrate for the first time. How about you, Anders?”

“I feel about normal,” he confessed.

“There you have it, then,” she said, with a snap of her fingers. “It’s making me feel wonderful, everyone else feel rotten, and Anders isn’t affected—just as the heat hasn’t been affecting him.”

Krissin, their science expert, stood up and stalked over to the instruments she kept by the window, tapping the glass on the barometer. “The pressure’s dropping,” she announced. “The wolf’s right, it’s getting colder.”

Ferdie, whose constant good nature had been reduced to a quiet frown, looked up through his glasses, running his fingers through his blond hair. “Is that why I was having trouble transforming at lunch?” he asked.

“No doubt,” said Lisabet. “I’ve found it really hard to transform ever since we got close to Drekhelm. But if the cold weather is outweighing the lava now . . .”

“Is it the Snowstone?” Bryn asked, hugging one of her languages textbooks against her chest, her voice quiet.

“Most likely,” Leif agreed. “I should go and speak with the Dragonmeet. Please do your best to continue with your work.”

Leif slipped away, and one by one the students at least pretended to get on with their studies, though most of them really couldn’t concentrate. Anders exchanged a worried glance with Lisabet and tried to ignore the glares directed his way by Nico and Krissin, and even by Patrik, who didn’t seem to particularly like them but was rarely outright nasty.

Their friends managed to stay at least moderately friendly, but everybody’s tempers were a little short. After a time he went and sat with his twin, trying to warm her hands up between his and distracting her with quiet talk about anything he could think of.

As the afternoon went by, the temperature slowly began to ease back up again, but the damage had been done. At dinner, Anders and Lisabet were on the receiving end of scowls and glares from dragons who’d begun to get used to their presence. Everybody had seen what the Snowstone could do now, and as wolves, they were the closest thing available to blame.

Anders was preoccupied all the way to bed, the evening’s conversation washing over him, endless questions fighting each other for room at the forefront of his mind. It wasn’t until he was actually lying in bed that night, listening to Lisabet’s soft, even breathing on the other side of the room, that it suddenly came to him.

“Lisabet!” He sat bolt upright.

“Hmmmwhatsitnow?” she murmured, rolling over in bed and propping up on one elbow. He could only catch a glimpse of her in the moonlight through their window, black hair askew, pale face sleepy.

He pushed his covers back, hurrying over to turn on a light and pour her a glass of water from the pitcher by the door. “Wake up, I’ve remembered something,” he said, and she obediently sat up, accepting the glass and taking a long gulp.

He told her about his lunchtime excursion with Theo—about the storage rooms and the endless books, records, and artifacts, pushing past the moment when her eyes lit up at the thought of exploring a place like that. He told her about the big record book they’d found, about the mirror and its description, and the symbol that said that somewhere in Drekhelm, the mirror was probably still working.

“And I know where I saw the other one,” he finished, triumphant. “It was at Ulfar, in Hayn’s workshop. Hayn showed it to us himself, Lisabet! He said that it used to be a big communication mirror, for speaking to Drekhelm. I can’t believe I didn’t remember!”

“I can’t believe you’re remembering now,” she said. “It was just a few words, and weeks ago. And he said it used to be, that it was broken, right?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “But what if he was wrong? What if the mirror on the other end wasn’t broken, it was just put away? On purpose or by mistake, maybe it’s in a dark, quiet room, and the wolves thought that meant it wasn’t working.”

She considered his words, nodding slowly. “If what you’re saying about the way they store their records and artifacts is right, that could be what happened,” she agreed slowly. “It might just have been stored somewhere, when they moved from Old Drekhelm. Or perhaps it was on purpose—they moved right after the battle, perhaps they didn’t want the wolves to be able to contact them.”

“We have to look for it,” he said. “If we can find it, if we can see Hayn’s office, perhaps we can find out something about what’s happening at Ulfar.”

“We can’t let him know we’re there,” she said. “He told us Drifa, the dragonsmith, killed his brother. He must think we’re traitors.”

They were both quiet in the wake of those words. Hayn probably wasn’t the only one who thought they were traitors. Their classmates—their friends—must all think the same. Were they wondering if Anders and Lisabet were all right? Did they hope they were, or they weren’t?

“If we can’t talk to him then we’ll spy,” said Anders. “Maybe enough will happen in his workshop that we can get some clue what the wolves are up to.”

“I bet you’re right,” she said. “At least it’s something we can do, instead of sitting around waiting for the Dragonmeet to finish discussing things. We’ll be old by the time they’re done, and my mother will attack before they ever decide anything. We’ll start looking tomorrow. It’s the only lead we have.”