Nathan ran his fingers through his pale hair, looking at the scholars, and Mia in particular. “Did you have any troubles while we were away? Did Victoria and her wild jungle attack Cliffwall? Another shaksis?”
Franklin’s words gushed out, as if he couldn’t contain them. “We erected a barricade at the outer wall of the plateau to keep us safe, just as you instructed. For defenses, we built wooden bars and planks across the cliff openings to block any other attacks. We tried to make this place impregnable.”
“But that horrendous jungle kept spreading,” Gloria added. “It filled the valley, and now even the foothills are exploding with life. Some of her thorn vines reached as far as the plateau wall, and they’re climbing the cliffs.”
“It keeps spreading and spreading,” Franklin said. “Nothing can stop it.”
Mia nodded, her forehead furrowed with concern. “All those wooden barricades and bars—we didn’t think anything could break through our defenses. But when Victoria’s magic touched them, the wood itself burst into life again! It sprouted, then kept growing. Soon, the chamber behind the window alcove was an impenetrable thicket. We tried to cut it back, but there was nothing we could do. It grew too fast.”
“When wood didn’t work, we used stone bricks to wall off that passage,” said Franklin. “It is secure now, unless Victoria can find a way to make the stone come alive.”
“That’s a good solution,” Bannon said.
“But only a temporary solution,” Nicci said, shaking her head. “Given time, vines and roots can break through even the strongest stone.” She stroked the curved dragon rib, imagining how she would use it. “But I will not give Victoria that time.”
Mia came up to the wizard, holding a charred book in her hands. The pages were curled and blackened, the cover scorched. “Nathan, I’ve wanted to show you. We salvaged this volume after the fire from the shaksis. I was putting the books away when I found a reference in here to a dragon-bone bow, so I knew it was relevant to the spells we need. Would you help me study them? See if we can make out the words, even though the pages are damaged?” She lowered her head. “I didn’t want to use my gift to restore the ink and the paper unless you were here to help me.”
“Why, I’d be delighted to supervise, my dear,” Nathan said, turning to follow the young scholar. “Do you think we could have some tea while we read? And something to eat?”
Gloria shouted for food and drink to be summoned for all of them. “Where is our hospitality? These people have had a long journey! Victoria never would have—” She cut off her words in embarrassment, realizing what she had said.
Though she was tired and dirty, her black dress tattered, her boots scuffed, Nicci refused to rest. “I have to get to work. I am going back to my quarters to fashion the bow we need.”
“I’ll help,” Thistle said, tagging along. “Show me what to do.”
Seeing the eagerness in the girl’s eyes, Nicci gestured down the corridor. “Come with me. This requires my magic, but you can watch and be ready to help if I think of anything.” Thistle readily agreed and accompanied her with a jaunty step through the stone tunnels until they reached their shared room.
The girl poured water into the washbasin and let Nicci refresh herself by wiping a damp rag over her face and her tired eyes. When she was done, Nicci rinsed the rag and handed it to Thistle. “Now you scrub, at least enough so I can see your face.”
“You’ve seen my face.”
“I’d like to see more of it. You may well be a pretty girl, but I have yet to see complete proof.”
Thistle gave her a teasing frown. “As long as you don’t make me wear a pink dress.”
“Never.”
Dutifully, Thistle washed her cheeks, forehead, eyes, and nose, scrubbing hard. “Clean enough?”
Nicci saw that the girl had indeed exposed some patches of clean skin, and smeared dust around others. The water in the washbasin was brown with grit. “Clean enough for now. You can sit on your sheepskin and watch me, but quietly. I need to concentrate.”
The girl acted as if Nicci had given her a solemn mission. She found a comfortable spot on the sheepskin, tucking her knees under her. When one of the archive workers hurried in with a tray of tea, biscuits, and fruit, Thistle served Nicci, who ate distractedly. The girl, on the other hand, devoured everything that remained.
Laying the long bone across her lap, Nicci sat on her pallet and considered how she would fashion the bow. She ran her palm along the curve of Grimney’s rib, found the structure of the bone, and released her magic to reshape it. She softened and then hardened the marrow. She felt the great power already contained in the stiff, curved rib, but added even more power to it.
Working carefully, cautiously, she adjusted the arc, then fashioned a recurve on each end, added flexibility where it was needed, reinforced cracks in the bone structure, sealed the porosity. She concentrated tirelessly, consumed with the task.
Looking up, she saw that Thistle was sound asleep, curled up on the sheepskin. Nicci watched the sleeping girl, noting the relaxed expression on her elfin face, her smooth brow now that she felt safe and at peace.
Nicci knew she needed to kill Life’s Mistress, so that she could keep the girl safe.
While Thistle dozed, Nicci finished her work. She felt the rib trembling with energy and anger, ready to complete its mission. In his life, the blue dragon Grimney had wanted excitement, had wanted to accomplish great things. Now he would do that.
Touching the new weapon, Nicci thought of how she would bring much-needed death back to the throbbing evil of the primeval forest.
*
Leaving the other scholars behind, Mia led Nathan into a small, well-lit study room. She carried the burned, damaged book she had found among the volumes salvaged from the shaksis fire.
Nathan took a seat and patted the bench beside him. “Now, let’s study those records you found. The more we understand, the better chance Nicci has.” He knew they could never go back to Kuloth Vale and demand another rib bone from the gray dragon if this one failed. “We’ll only have one chance.”
He and Mia sat in a small alcove lit by bright candles, leaning close to study the blackened, curled pages of the volume. “I don’t know if this is anything significant,” she said as she flattened the pages and pointed out lines written in an eclectic dialect. “But it does mention a bow made of a dragon’s rib.”
“That can’t be a coincidence. I never heard that dragon skeletons were particularly useful.” He touched his lips. “Though I admit they are certainly impressive.”
The young woman frowned at the smudged writing, the scorched paper. “No one noticed this spell before, because we were looking for a spell to block the outpouring of life.” She gave him a faint smile. “After you left, I searched for such documents, and another scholar referred me to this book. He was actually researching a cure for impotence.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “It took some doing to get him to admit that.”