Fatespeaker had one of the prisoner’s wings unclamped by the time Starflight got back. Mastermind stood in the doorway, watching through the holes in his helmet but neither interfering nor helping. It was hard to know what he was thinking with his face completely hidden.
Starflight brushed past him and set the cauldron down, then unclamped the dragon’s other wing. She slumped forward so suddenly that both Fatespeaker and Starflight were nearly knocked over, but they managed to catch her and lean her wings over their shoulders. Fatespeaker held the cauldron up and the RainWing revived enough to drink a little.
“What’s your name?” Starflight asked her.
She coughed and looked sideways at him. “No NightWing has ever asked my name before,” she whispered hoarsely. “It’s Orchid.”
“Oh!” Starflight gasped, then closed his mouth quickly and glanced at the door.
Mastermind was leaning into the hallway, yelling, “Strongwings! Strongwings, you blockhead, get up here!”
“Mangrove is looking for you,” Starflight whispered hurriedly. “He hasn’t given up. He’ll be here to rescue you soon.”
Fatespeaker stared at him as if he’d just peeled off his scales and revealed a hippo underneath. But Orchid lifted her head, her eyes flooding with hope. A shimmering rose pink spread over her, starting on her chest and drifting out to her wingtips.
“Soon,” she said softly. “Then I can hang on until he comes.”
I hope it’ll be soon, Starflight thought. I hope he doesn’t die on his way here. I hope Glory survives, too. I hope my friends are planning to rescue me as well.
Fatespeaker’s expression was ten kinds of confused. She tilted her head as if she was listening, and Starflight realized with a jolt of panic that he’d been having several unguarded thoughts since they’d started this part of the tour. He’d forgotten — how could I forget? — to worry about having his mind read.
But his father hadn’t reacted to any of his thoughts; Mastermind looked as pleased as ever. Not a mind reader, then, perhaps. Maybe those kinds of powers aren’t “genetically dominant” in us. Maybe it is enough just to be smart like him.
He’d always thought all NightWings could read minds and all NightWings could see the future. That’s what it sounded like in the scrolls he’d read. But Glory thought maybe it was only some of them, and perhaps she was right. Maybe I’m not completely defective.
“Three moons!” Mastermind barked from the doorway. “How did you turn her that pink color? I’ve never seen any of them look like that before.”
That’s because it’s the color of happiness, and there’s no happiness on this twisted island.
Starflight met Fatespeaker’s eyes.
“I think she’s just grateful for the water,” Fatespeaker said, blinking at him. He didn’t have to read minds to guess she was thinking, We’ll be talking about this later.
“Fascinating.” Mastermind came over and prodded the scales on Orchid’s neck with one claw. She closed her eyes. Her color didn’t change. “Utterly fascinating.”
A burly NightWing slouched grumpily in from the balcony. Half a lizard hung from one corner of his mouth, and his shoulders were almost too wide for his wings to fit through the door.
“What?” he mumbled, chewing.
“This one can go back,” said Mastermind. “Oh, and Strongwings, guess what? This is my son.” He waved gleefully at Starflight. Starflight wished he could go back half an hour in time, to when he’d been just as happy about those words as Mastermind was.
Strongwings gave Starflight a dubious look. “Heh,” he said. “All right. So when do I get a helmet like that?” He nodded at the thing on Mastermind’s head.
“This is just a prototype,” Mastermind said. He turned to Starflight. “As you can imagine, the hardest part of creating venom-resistant armor is coming up with a solution that protects the eyes but still allows one to see. I’d love to hear your thoughts, because I must admit I’m stymied. This is a thoroughly imperfect solution.” He tapped on the helmet with his talons. “Peripheral vision is negligible at best, and of course, venom could still splash through the holes if one were unlucky.” He shook his head. “There must be a more ingenious approach.”
“Whatever,” Strongwings grumped. “Where’s her band?”
Mastermind waved at the corner, and the muscular NightWing picked up a heap of metal and one of the spears. He brought it over and fitted a kind of muzzle around Orchid’s mouth, twisting the lock into place with a practiced flick of the spear tips. Then he shooed Starflight and Fatespeaker aside, snapped a chain around the RainWing’s neck, and gave it a yank. Without protesting, Orchid followed him out of the room.
“But why are you doing this?” Starflight blurted. “Why study their venom at all?”
Mastermind pulled off the helmet and gave him a confused look. “It’s science! We’re expanding dragon knowledge!”