I glance at the boys, then gesture to myself and Serena. ‘You’ll have to letusdo the talking.’
‘We’ll leave you here, then,’ Jasper says. ‘If Wyvernmire comes looking for you, we’ll tell her what we did last time, that we’ve never heard of you. But don’t come back. If she finds you with us, we’ll wish we’d left Canna when we had the chance.’
With that, he takes Philippa’s strawberry-stained hand and leads her away. We bask in the morning sun, sharing some of the bread as we wait for low tide. I watch Atlas as he sits on a rock, a small leather notebook sticking out of his pocket. He’s loading his gun, humming quietly as he recites what sounds like a prayer.
I had almost forgotten that part of him, the priesthood part. Hashe, I wonder? Did that part of him die when he didback at Bletchley Park? When he exchanged his white collar for a rebel uniform? Or is it still there somewhere, residing quietly even as he kisses me? I look at the others, Marquis and Gideon smoking as they watch the sky and Serena fiddling with the radio. It felt shamefully good to release my anger on to Chumana, but my skin prickles again when I remember how the other recruits were together on Eigg for three months, knowing that I was alone in London thinking Atlas was dead. I sneak another glance at Marquis. Even he kept the truth from me. I feel a distance between me and them, a cold remoteness that I can’t shake.
‘And you’re back with Sandy and Drake on your daily broadcast ofBlighty Against Bolgoriths.’
Serena stops twisting the radio dial.
‘Our pitiful excuse for a Prime Minister sank her claws into her own capital yet again last night, with Bulgarian Bolgoriths destroying an entire South London quarter in search of rebels. But reports coming in tell us our Swallow has officially flown the nest on a mission that will soon deliver us from Wyvernmire’s raptors.’
‘Who are Sandy and Drake?’ I say quickly.
Serena shrugs. ‘There are rumours that they’re a pair of Second Class university students who were banned from studying dragon tongues when the Babel Decree was instated, but who knows?’
‘Today we’re live with fellow rebel Drogo, somewhat of an expert in linguistics. What do you say, Drogo, to Wyvernmire’s statement that the dragons of Britannia must abandon their tongues in favour of Slavidraneishá?’
‘It is language assimilation,’ hisses a voice. ‘A group is forced to abandon its mother tongue, thereby severing its cultural roots.’
I look up from the radio in surprise. That voice belongs to a dragon.
‘Tide’s out,’ Gideon says.
Serena turns the radio off and we walk down on to the now-visible sandbanks that stretch across to Sanday. Everyone except me has a pack and a gun similar to those the Guardians carry. I can’t help but think that if I hadn’t got myself arrested, I would have my own set of supplies. Gideon jumps whenever he sees a shadow on the waves, mistaking every seagull for a dragon. Sanday’s huge, granite cliffs lean menacingly over us, taking the brunt of the chilling wind that blows in from the sea.
‘Where is everyone?’
‘They’re pretending no one’s home,’ Marquis says as we walk around one of the cliff faces, staring up at the seaweed and barnacles clinging to it. The ground is full of small holes, rockpools that will fill with water at high tide, but for now are bursting with shells and edible treasures – mussels, starfish and tiny snails I don’t know the name of. Our boots sink into the wet sand as we circle the mammoth rock, searching for a way up. Atlas’s hand grazes against mine and I eye his gun again.
‘Do you know how to use that thing properly?’ I ask.
‘Better than Ralph Wyvernmire, I’d say,’ he replies with a smirk. ‘I don’t think any of his bullets got anywhere near us back on the beach, do you?’
‘Hmm,’ I agree absentmindedly as my eyes land on a footpath in the rock.
‘Why was he so desperate to get you back?’ Atlas asks. ‘I’m guessing it has something to do withthat?’ He gestures to the loquisonus machine on my shoulder as if it’s as lethal as the weapon on his.
‘He thinks he has some sort of partnership with Goranov,’ I say, ‘and he wanted me to use the loquisonus machine to check Goranov isn’t double-crossing him.’
Atlas frowns. ‘A partnership?’
A bolt shaped like an arrow lands in the sand by my foot and I jump backwards, knocking into Atlas.
‘Crossbow,’ he breathes.
Ahead of us the others have frozen, more arrows at their feet. I look up. A girl appears on the clifftop above us, long hair billowing in the wind. She points the crossbow at us.
‘We’re part of the Human-Dragon coalition, rebelling against Prime Minister Wyvernmire and her Bulgarian dragons,’ Atlas calls out. ‘We’ve come to ask you what you know about the Hebridean Wyverns.’
The girl doesn’t move.
‘Jasper sent us,’ I shout.
‘What did you tell her that for?’ Serena hisses. ‘She probably hates him.’
‘Leave your weapons on the sand,’ the girl shouts.
