Page 15 of The Queens and the Kings
The Wyvern Kings will return to their place in the west at the end of one thousand years. There will be few signs.
Few signs?
How aboutnosigns?
He slammed the book shut, tossed it onto his bed, and tore back out. No, the diary had it wrong. When he wrote that entry, he’d been half mad. Crazed with arcane. Couldn’t really understand what happened to his body when he became the Arcanist of the Sea.
He’d call for Himmel. She’d know. All mainlanders and islanders had was speculation. While they believed in and used the arcane, mainlanders in particular, they didn’t remember itsorigins. The folklore tales of the Wyvern Kings would only be laughed at, no matter how real they were.
The rain had ceased into a gentle rhythm as he returned to the top deck. Waves rocked, calming as the wind ebbed. The empty sky held hints of midnight. Pedr had to suppress the urge to coordinate another firework attack.
No need.
The wyvern saw the fireworks and it headed west. None of these facts had much in common except the wyvern.
Bastid wyverns.
Questions raced through his mind, loose as ribbon. Why a wyvern so far west? What did he seek at Kapurnick? How did he fly this far? Had the end of a thousand years arrived?
Hand cupping his mouth, he bellowed, “Himmel!” The words coalesced into a bright green vapor, spiraling higher. A second burst of traveling words manifested, whirled upward in a whirlpool. They spread into glimmering crimson, shouting into the sky for him.
Ten seconds passed.
Twenty.
A prickling sensation built along the back of his neck. He leaned into it with relief. Himmel would understand. The Arcanist of the Sky would know what to do with this disparate information. The strangeness of it. She lived in the wind, the clouds, the stars. She’d know.
She had to.
Someonehadto know.
The needle-like sensation ballooned until it swamped him. Vapor fanned into wispy clouds that twirled into strings. Just as Himmel began to take form, a distant clatter of sound, like pots banging together, broke the stillness. In fact, itwaspots banging together. When someone crossed his rope, they made an indisputable noise.
Himmel's coalescing visage paused.
“Himmel,” he said, low. “Don’t you dare leave. I have questions and you’re the only one that can answer them.”
She neither left, nor stayed.
Livid, Pedr glanced to the side. Britt scampered up his rope ladder and flipped herself onto the deck like a regular sea monkey. She stumbled over her own feet, racing for him. “Pedr! Did you see it? The wyvern.”
The hesitating vapor hung, suspended within arms reach, until a feminine whisper promised, “Later.”
Pedr locked his jaw as Britt raced across the ship, hiding his profound ill humor. Henrik and Einar followed more sedately. Agnes joined them. Naturally, Britt was soaked all the way through, with dirt along her pants hem. She stopped a few paces away, eyes wide.
“Did you?” she demanded.
When he thought the words,Yes, I saw the blasted Wyvern King!a flare of pain rose to his throat. It happened as quickly as the words hewantedto say.
He managed a halting, “Yes,” before Britt plunged into her story. His lack of an answer didn’t matter. Not yet. As always, he had to figure out how to communicate without saying a word about . . .them.
Explanations would have to wait for . . .
. . . never.
He wouldneverbe able to explain to Britt because of curses, and history, and the profound disturbance the arcane brought to his life fifteen years ago.
Britt’s strange assortment of friends trailed behind Pedr as he crossed the wet deck, headed for the bow. Rainwater sloshed, draining to the side. The turbulent waters calmed from high peaks into dark troughs. Britt pirouetted to face him as he grabbed the wheel, feeling the ship flow into his forearms.
