“And who is your father?” Tilda asked.
Anders knew this was where the greatest risk lay. But he wouldn’t lie and trick them into helping. They were doing all this to try to convince the wolves and dragons and humans to tell each other the truth, and to listen, so he had to start as he meant to go on. He remembered again that he had seen Tilda’s and Kaleb’s names in the Skraboks—they had probably known both his parents.
“Our father was Felix,” Anders said. “He was a wolf. And so am I.”
Tilda brought one hand up to cover her mouth. “Oh, Felix,” she said.
“We used to work with him and his brother,” Kaleb said. “Good men.”
“I never understood what happened,” Tilda said. “They said that she killed Felix, and then ran. But the dragons hunted high up and low down, and they never could find her. I always wondered if whoever got Felix found her as well.”
Anders and Rayna exchanged a long glance—they both wished they knew the same thing.
“Well,” said Kaleb grimly. “If they did, looks like she got away for at least a little while, seeing as how you two are standing here in front of us. Protecting her babies would be a good enough reason to hide.”
There was something about the way he spoke—gruff, but just a little careful—that made Anders wonder if Kaleb and Tilda knew that Drifa had kept a forbidden workshop at Cloudhaven, a place nobody dreamed she would go, so nobody thought to look.
If the two dragonsmiths had suspected, obviously they’d never shared that suspicion with anyone, and that made them allies.
Kaleb appeared to be finished with the subject, and he cut himself a slice of cake, biting into it with a vehemence that didn’t invite questions. “These days, all we can do is forge,” he continued. “We need a designer. These foolish battles got in the way of it. There hasn’t been a new artifact in Vallen in ten years. Ten years! Do any of them think this was how it was supposed to be?”
“Well, um, good news,” said Rayna. “Felix’s brother, Hayn, is on his way. So you’ll have a designer very soon.”
“That’s wonderful!” said Tilda.
“It’s about time,” said Kaleb.
“You two sit down and eat your cake,” said Tilda. “We’ll work out how to repair your artifacts when Hayn comes.”
And so Anders and Rayna were both installed on a large, comfortable couch covered in a rug that didn’t really stop the stuffing coming out of all the holes in it. They each obediently ate a large slice of cake, and sat quietly as the dragons returned to their forging.
Watching Tilda and Kaleb work was like watching a beautiful kind of dance. Tilda transformed effortlessly into a peach-and-gold dragon with wings like the sunset coming through the clouds, breathing dragonsfire infused with essence into her forge, golden sparks leaping from the white flames. Then she slipped back into human form and picked up a hammer, setting to work beating her metal out flat. Over and over, she repeated the steps, never faltering.
Kaleb was engraving a metal plate that he was working on. He had a very old, very battered chart pinned up on the wall, and he would consult it, carefully studying the runes, then engrave another of them before returning to the chart once more. The paper was singed around the edges and had clearly seen many years of use. It must have been designed before the last great battle.
Anders was entranced, and except that his cake had disappeared, he would have had no idea how much time had passed.
Then, outside, they heard a series of metal clangs as the dome snapped into place once more.
A moment later, they heard Hayn’s voice shouting, half irritated, half amused. “Tilda? Kaleb? Let us out of this ridiculous contraption this minute!”
“Oh good,” said Kaleb, setting down his tools and turning for the door. “Now we can get to work.”
The twins followed the two dragonsmiths outside to find Hayn, Lisabet, and Ellukka trapped within the metallic dome, the two children looking much more concerned than the big wolf.
“Where have you been all this time?” Kaleb demanded as he stomped over to release the gate.
“You do know I can’t fly?” Hayn asked, a smile playing across his lips as the enclosure folded itself down to disappear into the ground again. “How, exactly, did you expect me to get up a mountain? You could have come to fetch me, if you wanted me so badly.”
Kaleb made a grunting noise and turned back inside. Hayn and Tilda exchanged a quick smile.
“I have more cake,” said Tilda, “and there’s milksomewhere as well. Let’s get you children settled. This might take a while.”
“It can’t take too long,” Hayn said gravely. “Things are getting worse.”
Anders thought of the Dragonmeet getting ready to launch an attack. Did Hayn know? “Worse?” he asked, dreading the answer.
“I’ve been keeping an eye on the wolf camp,” Hayn replied. “A group of them went to speak to the humans, and the humans drove them out. With rocks, with sticks, with anything they could lay their hands on.”
