“The Outclaws?” said Preyhunter. “That’s what you call yourselves? You must be joking.”
“Are you asking for treasure?” Fierceteeth demanded. “Of course we don’t have treasure! Our home was just —”
“Surely you can make an exception for us,” Strongwings interjected, cutting her off. “I mean, we’re NightWings.”
“And?” said the guard.
There was a pause. Sunny grinned, imagining the apoplectic fit Fierceteeth was probably having.
“We could give you a prophecy,” Preyhunter suggested after a moment.
“Hah,” the guard said, sounding moderately more interested. “That would be funny. Qibli! Tell Thorn we have three NightWings offering their pathetic services.”
“I think you mean prophetic services,” Fierceteeth said.
“Uh-huh,” said the guard skeptically.
There was a long silence as everyone waited. Sunny wriggled higher up on her dune, hoping for a view of the city gates, but a long slope of sand dotted with prickly spheres of cacti blocked her way.
What can I offer the guard to get inside the Scorpion Den? she wondered. She glanced down at the Obsidian Mirror. It was the only thing she had — was it worth giving up her one advantage over the NightWings? On the other talon, she knew she’d be happy to have its sinister weight out of her claws. But on the third talon, she didn’t know who would end up with their claws on this potentially dangerous weapon. What might the Outclaws do with it?
Hmmm. Moreover, even if she didn’t offer it to them, what was to stop a band of outlaws from just taking it? Sunny thought for a moment, then quickly dug a hole in the sand next to one of the cactus balls and buried the mirror. Of course there wasn’t anything here to help her distinguish one brownish rolling sand dune from the next. She’d have to cross all her claws and hope she’d be able to find it again. But a dangerous mirror nobody could find was better than a dangerous mirror floating around the Scorpion Den, surely.
She lifted her head as the guard below spoke. “All right,” he said. “Thorn wants to see you, don’t ask me why. Follow Qibli — and no funny business.”
Sunny waited as long as she could bear it, then scrambled up and started over the dune.
A SandWing was standing there, no more than three steps away, staring straight at her as if he’d been waiting for her. His side was pocked and dented with old scars, and he had six claws on each foreleg, instead of five. She had no idea where he’d come from, or how he’d snuck up on her so quickly and quietly.
“Oh!” she yelped.
“That means you, too,” he said calmly.
“M-m-me too what?” Sunny stammered.
He tilted his head and studied her curiously, registering the odd color of her scales and eyes, and no doubt noticing her venomless tail as well.
“You’re to come before the Outclaws as well. Thorn wants to know why you’re following those scumdwellers.” He jerked his head in the direction of the den and the NightWings. Sunny had never heard anyone refer to NightWings with that much disrespect before, except perhaps Tsunami or Glory.
“I’m — I’m not following anybody,” Sunny said, folding her wings back. She could hear how unconvincing she sounded.
He shrugged. “Lie to me all you want, but I wouldn’t recommend trying it with Thorn.” He flicked his tail and she flinched away. “Come.”
It was not a request. At least he wasn’t threatening to chain her up — and at least going with him would mean getting into the Scorpion Den without the problem of payment.
“Fine,” she said, lifting her chin. “Take me to Thorn.”
They flew down to the city gates and the guard nodded impassively as they went past her, straight into a crooked stone alleyway with steps leading up and down. Sharp, spicy cooking smells filled the air, along with the scents of smoke and crowds of overheated dragons. The streets around them were lined with rickety stalls and tents, and voices began pressing in on Sunny.
“Crocodile stew? Roasted scorpion? Bag of crickets?”
“Bet you’d like some gold for them golden scales!”
“Stock up on brightsting cactus — you never know when you might need it!”
“Need anyone killed, little lady? Here, take my card.”
A small, flat piece of metal, inscribed with a name, was pressed into Sunny’s talons, and the SandWing who’d given it to her vanished almost immediately. Sunny blinked and glanced up at the dragon escorting her.
“Whose is it?” he asked, plucking it out of her claws. “Nah, you don’t want him. Too expensive, barely competent.” He tossed the card into another stall as they went by, and a snout poked out of a pile of carpets to growl at them.