I shrug as I sit down in the desk chair. The journal describes the wyverns’ flying practice, their hunting of sheep for meat and wool, their naming and funeral ceremonies. But all these things could be happening anywhere on the far side of the island.
There’s a resounding boom as the floor vibrates beneath our feet. I jump up as the others look round in alarm. It’s a sound we’ve all grown up with and it sends a chill through me now.
It’s the sound of a dragon landing.
‘Shit!’ Gideon says, ducking away from the window. ‘Guardians coming up the path.’
‘The stairs,’ I say, my voice barely a whisper. ‘Quickly.’
I pause by the window, making sure to keep behind the curtain.
On the road beyond the garden, his black body stark against the sea, is Goranov. And with him is Ralph. I clutch the curtain as I peer closer. They’re talking, standing close together, Goranov’s huge head looming down above Ralph’s. The dragon’s flickering red tongue slides out from between his teeth and I recoil as the tip brushes across Ralph’s forehead, his hair, his neck. Ralph stands stock still, his body rigid with fear. And yet he is allowing himself to be touched.
To be tasted.
I feel sick.
‘Viv!’
Marquis is beckoning from the door and I run, scrambling up the staircase behind the others. Where is Atlas? I swear as my foot almost goes through the rotting wood of one of the steps. As we reach the first bedroom, I hear the Guardians kick away the remains of the front door. Marquis holds out one of the long, dusty curtains and gestures to Serena and Gideon to hide behind it.
‘Viv, under the bed!’ he orders me as he slips behind the door.
I creep as quietly as I can across the floorboards, then crouch down by the bed. The space beneath it is crammed with boxes. My stomach lurches as footsteps sound from the stairs.
‘Viv!’ Marquis whispers as I dart out on to the landing.
I push open the first door I see. Another bedroom, this one a nursery. There’s no bed, just a tiny cot, a rocking horse and a wardrobe. I step into it, pulling it closed as the door to the nursery opens. I crouch awkwardly among the musty clothes, cobwebs sticking to my face. The floorboards creak gently and I breathe as slowly as I can as I peer through the crack in the door. Ralph is scanning the room, his brow furrowed. He takes a step towards the wardrobe. I lean backwards to hide behind the clothes. The hangers chink against the iron bar.
Shit.
Ralph smiles. He wrenches the door open and pulls me out.
‘Found you, little swallow,’ he sneers. ‘Where is it?’
My eyes dart traitorously to the loquisonus still inside the wardrobe. Ralph keeps my coat tight in his fist as he rummagesfor it, then pulls it out. Heavy boots pace the landing.
‘Nothing here,’ someone shouts. ‘They’ll be halfway up the hillside by now.’
I glare at Ralph as the Guardians march back down the stairs. ‘Aren’t you going to call them?’ I whisper.
‘No.’ He hands the loquisonus machine to me. ‘Goranov is nearby. I want you to listen to him now.’
I hesitate and his lip curls.
‘Do it.’
I take the loquisonus machine out of the case and place it on the ground, then kneel down beside it. ‘You’re right not to trust him, Ralph,’ I say quietly. ‘He’ll kill you, when he no longer needs you.’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Ralph says. ‘Goranov will always have need of me.’
‘Why?’
He lifts his gun and points it at me. ‘Start the machine.’
I flick the switch, then put the headphones on. The clicks and trills of the Koinamens fill my ears. ‘I can’t tell which one is Goranov,’ I say. ‘What you’re asking me to do is impossible.’
‘Just listen for any calls you might recognise,’ Ralph says. ‘Tell me what you hear.’
