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you?”
    “Prince Luka, whom you remember brought me here the first time,” I said. “And a Moralienin sword master named Tobin.”
    “You trust this Tobin?”
    “Yes, indeed. He’s a very good man,” I assured her. “He’s engaged to my friend Marta,” I added unnecessarily.
    “Will he keep our secret?”
    “Tobin is a mute, and the trusted companion of Prince Luka,” Feniul said, which surprised me, since Feniul had never seemed to notice any other humans but me. I hadn’t known that he even remembered Tobin’s name.
    “Excellent. Now go,” Velika said. “Establish a speaking pool in Citatie as soon as you arrive, Niva, and report to us. I expect Leontes and your hatchlings within the week.” She walked closer to the edge of the water and lay down. “Shardas and I will sleep now,” she announced, dismissing us.
    As I climbed on to Feniul’s back, I saw Shardas lie down beside his mate, entwining his tail with hers. He saw me looking, and shot out a small spurt of blue flame in farewell. I waved, and Feniul took to the sky with a subdued Niva on his heels.

Winging Away
    “You’ll need a sweater, Tobin,” Marta said, trying to jam a large wool pullover into his neatly packed bag.
    Tobin and I exchanged rueful looks, and he made some gestures with his hands.
    “I know it’s warm there, but what if there’s an unseasonable chill?” Marta stuck out her lower lip.
    “Marta,” I said cajolingly. “Tobin has been to Citatie before. If he wanted a sweater, he would have packed a sweater.”
    Marta tossed the sweater aside. “Fine!” She folded her arms, looking red and angry. “Of course
you
can be all cavalier about this, Creel. You’re going to see your … Luka. I’m sending Tobin off to face who knows what! I have to sit here and sew and pretend that nothing’s wrong for I don’t know how long!” She was on the verge of tears.
    Tobin went over and put his arms around her, and I busied myself packing my own things. We were in the living quarters over the shop. Niva, Amacarin andFeniul would meet us outside the city gates at dawn. Marta and I had been up all night, sorting clothes, packing hampers of food, and the like, but once Tobin arrived she had become increasingly nervous and demanding.
    I could hardly blame her. It was true: I was concerned about Luka and it was a comfort to me that I would be with him in a matter of days. Marta and Tobin were to be married in the autumn, first here in the King’s Seat, and then in Moralien (Tobin was not a believer in the Triune Gods, and so they were to be married twice to make both families happy). For all Marta knew, we would be gone until winter, or next summer, and the weddings would be cancelled. For all Marta knew, we wouldn’t come back at all.
    While Tobin soothed her, I finished stashing my riding dresses in a large leather duffel bag. They would be sadly creased, but there was nothing I could do about it. My greater concern, beyond the threat of a second Dragon War, of course, was that Marta and our assistants would not be able to finish Lady Isla’s trousseau in time for the royal wedding. On the other hand, if we were unable to avert this war, there might not be a royal wedding.
    It was a sober party that rode out from our shop. Marta had, at the last minute, decided not to see us off at the site of the dragon rendezvous, and so we all hugged and kissed on the step of the shop. One of the King’sGuards accompanied us to the city gates. He would take the horses back to the royal stables and report our departure to the king. We rode in silence to a field outside the King’s Seat, and waited until Niva, Amacarin and Feniul arrived.
    “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Feniul apologised as the horses reared and snorted.
    Tobin and I quickly handed our reins to the soldier, and sent him to wait some distance apart. I wanted to send him back to the palace entirely, to spare the poor horses any further distress, but he was under orders to see