Only for the blow to never come.
“Can I help you?”
An officious looking man in a tweed jacket pushed his thin-rimmed spectacles further up his nose before scowling as he looked at the lot of us. Perhaps because while the others stared, unable to understand what was happening, I stood there with the real Fern clasped tightly against me. Letting her go was agony, but I did it, stepping free and seeing that we were back in the centre’s foyer again.
“We’re looking for a Professor Neal Sinclair,” Lance said,and I stifled a hysterical laugh as he thrust out a creamy white calling card.
“You’ve found him,” Sinclair said, then took in our uniforms and Lance’s badges of rank. “What can I do for the Royal Riders of Nevermere?”
Chapter 56
Fern
“I’m Fern Rochester.” Saying my name felt strange, as if putting on clothes made for quite a different shaped body and trying to convince myself they fit. “This is Lance Axton, Kael...”
I realised then I didn’t know which family name he used.
“Son of Elsie,” came Kael’s smooth reply. “And these are my brothers.”
Introductions were made and hands were shaken, but I barely felt the professor’s clasp. How could I when the pressure of Dain’s arms around me hadn’t faded?
“The sword master’s son.” The man pursed his lips. “And some cadets. I’m afraid I have no need for lessons in swordplay.”
“Christian, the librarian up at the keep, gave us your card,” I said. “He said you might be able to answer some questions about ancient dragons?”
Before he could reply, another voice cut him off.
“Neal, old fellow.” A man with a thin face and alarmingly bushy eyebrows came walking in. “Do you have Forbes’ treatise on dragon physiology on hand? The one in the original Marcellane… Oh.” He shot us a nervous smile. “And who do we have here?”
“Christian sent the lieutenant and some of cadets down to find out more about ancient dragons of all things.” Professor Sinclair shifted his weight to his left hip as he crossed his arms. “Which is quite a broad topic, so it’s impossible to discuss without further clarification, so if you’ll excuse?—”
“Drathnor,” I said. “We are trying to find the nest of dragonstone left behind by the ancient dragon, Drathnor.”
“Well.” The thin-faced man brightened. “That is interesting. Felix Rathbone.” He held out a hand and all of us shook it. “Drathnor, eh? Ever been to the Tomb of Terror?”
“We just returned from there actually,” I said, then reached into my pocket, producing one of the crystal eggs. “And we found this.”
“A Tanis egg!” Rathbone’s eyes lit up as Sinclair’s frown deepened. “Our offices are down the hall. Come and I’ll call for some tea.”
“Really, Felix?” Sinclair said with a sigh. “I have a class to teach.”
“Teach away.” Felix rushed down the hall and we were left to follow or be subjected to yet more frowns from Sinclair. “Now, start from the start. How on earth did you end up with that egg?”
We told him.
Dain shot me a dark look, particularly when I talked about his involvement in the process. His frown grew more and more pronounced, but Felix was captivated. When the tea lady arrived with her little trolley, he seemed almost shocked to see her, despite ringing for her services some moments before.
“Gods…” The man took a hold of the stone egg, turning it around in his hands, then picking up a letter opener and stabbing it into his thumb. I blinked as he squeezed out a drop of blood, pressing it to the stone, but right when I expected him to go blank eyed and staring, seeing the same vision we saw, he shook his head in frustration. “What I would give to have the kind of psychic ability to see the things you describe. Unfortunately, I am a complete null when it comes to these matters.” The egg was pressed back between my fingers. “This is all very fascinating, but how can the Centre help?”
“We’re seeking Drathnor’s nest,” Kael said. “Do you have any maps or information about where that might be?”
“There was some debate as to whether or not Drathnor and her sisters, Skael and Tharla?—”
“Those were the names of her sisters?” I leaned forward, wishing I’d brought a notebook with me.
“Yes.” Felix smiled as he set out tea cups across his table. Finding a space between the mounds of paperwork was difficult, but he managed it. “One theory is that the duchies of Skane and Harlston took their names from them and that Wyrmpeak is a derivation from the more ancient name, Drathpeak. The clergy tends to get a little huffy about that sort of thing. Turning the triple goddess into three queen dragons?—”
“White-gold dragons.” That came out without thought, and Felix’s eyebrows shot up as a result. “Not gold queens, but white-gold queens.”
