The door swung open to reveal a huge room, more brightly lit and cleanly kept than any other part of the fortress that Starflight had seen. They were standing on a balcony; there was a level above them and a level below them, and a criss-crossing network of strange pipes stretching across the space in front of them.
“No, no!” cried a voice. A whip-thin black dragon shot down from the top level and hovered in front of them. He wore an odd helmet over his whole head, with only a few small holes poked in it for him to see out — rather like the queen’s council screen, Starflight thought. “I must not be interrupted! This experiment is at a critical juncture! And Greatness says I might be shut down at any moment! Everyone please leave!” He flapped his wings and front talons at them.
“Mastermind,” Morrowseer said coolly. “It seems you were right all along. The dragonet from Farsight’s egg is apparently your son, and he’s here now, so I’ve brought him to meet you.”
Starflight tensed, expecting the other dragon to shrug and shoo them away.
But instead Mastermind reached up and removed his helmet, revealing a snout pockmarked with little scars and curious bloodshot eyes.
“My son?” he said, and Starflight felt a happy shiver at the tone of wonder in his voice. Mastermind landed on the balcony beside them, set his helmet on the floor, and took Starflight’s shoulders in his talons. “Three moons,” he said. “What a handsome dragonet. He does look like me; I knew he would. As I suspected, this jawline is genetically dominant.” He gestured to the same spot on himself and on Starflight. “Ah, and yes, see the way the star scales on our wings spray outward, like a splash of water, whereas Morrowseer’s, for instance, curl inward, more like a snail shell.” He flared one of his wings and then reached for Morrowseer’s, but the larger NightWing batted him away with a snarl. “All theories at this point, of course,” Mastermind said, and Starflight found himself smiling back at his father’s toothy grin. “A larger data set would naturally be essential for proving anything, but one is much better than none; entirely wonderful, in fact, especially compared to most of the rest of the tribe. Including yourself, right, Morrowseer? No dragonets as yet?”
Morrowseer’s face indicated he did not intend to dignify that with a response.
“But I have a son,” Mastermind said proudly. “I, of all dragons! Let’s see Strongwings laugh now! Just wait until everyone sees my handsome offspring.” He clapped Starflight’s shoulder again. “So strong and healthy! You can be the assistant I’ve been looking for. What are you interested in, son?”
Son. Starflight’s knees felt as if they might not hold him up very well for much longer.
“Um, everything,” he stammered. “Scrolls. I like scrolls.”
“Fantastic!” Mastermind said. “I have lots of scrolls. How about desalinization? Know anything about it?”
Starflight perked up. “A little — taking the salt out of seawater to make it potable, right?”
“Potable?” Fatespeaker interjected. She was watching them with wide, startled eyes, and Starflight remembered that she didn’t know yet that he’d been raised away from the island, too.
“Drinkable,” Starflight explained. “Is that what those pipes are for?”
“Very good,” said Mastermind, waving his talons excitedly. “We have only one freshwater source on the island, and it’s become rather contaminated with ash over the last few years, so I invented this magnificent contraption to provide safe water for the entire tribe.…”
He talked on and on, pointing to the various pipes and explaining the science behind the process. Starflight listened with fascination. He’d never met a dragon who seemed so full of information — like a walking library of scrolls.
“Come, come,” Mastermind said eagerly, gathering his helmet and leaping off the balcony. “I’ll show you what else I’m working on.”
Starflight glanced at Morrowseer for permission, and the large NightWing rolled his eyes and sat down with a yawn. Fatespeaker didn’t wait to be invited; she flew behind them as Mastermind led the way down to the bottom level.
“Here is where I do all my vulcanology,” he said, striding between tables laden with cauldrons of lava and steaming holes dug right into the ground. “I’m testing for materials that can withstand eruptions, and working on scale models of barriers, and outlining possible implementation systems. No wonder I need an assistant, right?”
“This place is pretty cool,” Fatespeaker said, glancing around at the volcano experiments.