“That’s excellent!” Sky called out from her side of the room. “But how am I going to cover it with material while it’s moving like that?”
Aaron pressed his lips together. “Um . . . I’m not sure,” he said. He tried fully folding the wing and it became still, but it only stayed still if he was holding the dart, as if the wing could sense through his fingers that he wanted it to stop moving. As soon as he let go of it, it began moving again. He had no idea how to make the wing stop moving for good. He’d never done a spell like that before. What was he supposed to say—“Die”? He looked at his brother. “Alex, do you know how to make it stop?”
Alex squelched a grin. He certainly did know. “Why yes, I do,” he said.
Aaron narrowed his eyes. “How?” he said, suspicious.
“You have to sing a song to take away the magic,” said Alex, clearly delighted.
“What?” cried Aaron. “I can’t do that.”
“You have to. That’s the only way you can get it to stop.”
Samheed and Lani began to chuckle, and Sky looked on, eyes filled with merriment.
“Well, then, you do it,” said Aaron. “I—I don’t know how. I mean I wish I could sing. But I’ve never done it, actually.”
“You may as well learn,” said Alex. “Besides,” he lied, “only you can stop the magic since you’re the one who made it alive in the first place.”
Sky almost called Alex out on the lie, but it was so entertaining to watch Aaron squirm that she held back.
Aaron gave Sky a pleading look. “Are you sure you can’t attach the fabric when it’s moving?”
Sky shook her head. “Nope. Sorry,” she said.
Aaron glanced at Lani and Samheed. He knew he wouldn’t get any help from them. Finally he sighed and gave up. “Fine. What do I have to sing?”
Alex wrote down the lines to Ol’ Tater’s song, changing a few words to make the spell work for the wing. He handed the spell to Aaron and then hummed the tune for him. Alex was slightly off-key, but it was the best he could do.
Aaron read the chant. “Are you serious? This is absolutely ridiculous,” he said. “Who designed this spell?”
“Mr. Today, I think.” Alex shrugged. “It’s the only way to fix it.”
“Well, it’s a lot easier to make things come alive,” muttered Aaron.
“And you’re awfully good at that for having no training,” said Alex, “so I’m sure you’ll be great at this, too.”
Aaron didn’t answer. He opened his mouth, and then he closed it again and sighed. He cleared his throat. He shuffled his feet, and held the paper at different distances from his face to find what would feel most comfortable. Then he looked at the wing moving around on the table. He closed his eyes and shook his head.
The others watched silently, exchanging mischievous glances.
Finally Aaron opened his mouth again and croaked out the words:
Dragon wing, dragon wing,
Too much sadness, no repeats.
I am sorry, more than sorry,
But it’s time for you to sleep.
The wing ceased to move. And the room exploded in laughter and applause for Aaron’s terrible singing.
Aaron was surprised and confused by the outburst, and he felt his cheeks grow warm. He looked from one face to the next, at first thinking he was being ridiculed, and it reminded him of what things were like when he had been thrown out of the university long ago. But slowly it began to dawn on him that the people in this room were not acting mean-spirited. They were just plain spirited. And they had played a trick—no, not a trick, a joke—on Aaron.
The former high priest wasn’t 100 percent sure what the joke was, but instead of yelling at them as he initially wanted to do, he sought out Sky to make sure this was supposed to be funny.
Sky smiled warmly at him. “It’s okay,” she mouthed.
Aaron glanced at his brother, who was laughing and coming toward him.
“This is a joke on me,” Aaron said.
“It sure is,” said Alex.
One corner of Aaron’s mouth turned upward as Alex slapped him on the back. Aaron risked a glance at Lani, and then at Samheed, who wasn’t sneering.
“You’re a pretty good sport,” Samheed said. “I’ll give you that.”
Aaron laughed a little. “Thanks,” he said. “And the song worked. Maybe I’ll take singing lessons since I’m so good at it.”
The friends howled in laughter, and encouraged him to do so.
Aaron smiled. He still didn’t know precisely what he’d done that was so funny, but he was enjoying this new feeling inside him—the feeling that he was not only useful, but also that he was finally a part of something good in Artimé.
Preparing to Fly