‘Tell him the Bulgarian dragons will kill us, then sniff out the wyvern tunnels looking for more food,’ Atlas tells me.
I translate and Abelio’s snarl growls louder. ‘We are a match for any dragon, we are Hebridean—’
‘Tell him the machine isn’t a tunnel detector.’
I freeze. ‘What? No.’
‘Tell him we lied,’ Atlas says.
I shake my head, then glance at Aodahn and Cindra, who are staring at him in stunned silence.
‘We need your help, Aodahn,’ Atlas says gently. ‘That’s why wecame here. The machine doesn’t detect tunnels, but echolocation.’
‘Bloody hell,’ Marquis mutters.
‘Dragons call it the Koinamens, in English,’ Atlas says quietly. ‘The language you speak – not Cannair, the other one. The one you keep inside your heads.’
Cindra is translating for Abelio and growls erupt from the wyverns, even Aodahn. My gaze lands on his gentle face as his eyes cloud with confusion.
‘An Smuainswel?’ he whispers.
Smuainswel.
The word for the Koinamens in the wyvern tongue. I recognise the Scottish Gaelic word for thought,Smuain, and the Cannair word for a sea wave,Swel.
It’s beautiful.
I see Gideon shrink against the wall as Abelio seems to grow, his wings unfolding behind him as a high-pitched howl erupts from his throat.
‘We can listen to it, but we can’t understand it!’ I say. ‘We found your tunnels by following the sound of it with the machine, but that’s all. I’ve heard your Koinamens and it’s the most beautiful sound in the world. I would never do anything to—’
Cindra lets out a warning screech and I fall silent.
‘How many humans can listen to theSmuainswel?’
‘We have the only machine,’ I say quickly. ‘But I can’t use it, can’t translate—’
‘Translate?’ Cindra chokes, taking a step towards me. ‘You speak of translation?’
Atlas steps in front of me, his arms outstretched. ‘Weknow that the Koinamens is sacred, used to heal and grow. Viv respects that. But we resorted to using the machine to listen to it because we were desperate to find you. Because we need your help.’
‘Do you see, now, the entitlement of these humans?’ Abelio snarls to Cindra. ‘They bring nothing but danger.’
‘What sort of help, dear one?’ says Aodahn.
‘Dr Hollingsworth, leader of the Human-Dragon Coalition, believes that you could be instrumental to us winning the war,’ Atlas says calmly.
‘But we are so small in number compared to Queen Ignacia’s dragons, to these Bulgarian Bolgoriths joining our skies,’ Aodahn says. ‘How canwehelp you?’
I shake my head. ‘We don’t know.’
The admission is mortifying.
‘Cindra,’ Aodahn says, gesturing to Marquis. ‘He saved the life of our wyvernling. You cannot sentence him to death.’
Cindra growls, then looks at me. I know what she’s thinking. I’ve only just started translating her writing and if she banishes me now, her hope of sharing Cannair with the world will be lost. Her eyes flick from side to side and her lower jaw shudders menacingly. ‘You will keep yourfasgadh, temporarily.’
‘They will leave us now!’ Abelio roars.
