“It looks like they’re massing to defend the wall near Dimswitch,” Franklin muttered, too low for the king’s mother to hear. “Karl the Bloody’s forces must be attacking there.”
Chantel and Anna looked at each other. They’d intended to take the smallest girls, those too young to help with the spell, down into the city with them. This now struck Chantel as too dangerous. But leaving them with the king’s mother, as hostages, was out of the question.
“Couldn’t you stay here with them, Franklin?” Anna asked.
“No,” said Franklin firmly. “I have to—” He looked down at the ground. “I have to do something.”
“It’ll have to be Miss Flivvers, then,” said Chantel. “Can you just wait with them till I get her please? Then we’ll go to the battle.”
Franklin assented, grumbling.
“What do you think you’re talking about?” Lady Moonlorn demanded. “Battle? You? My son is in charge of defending the city. Do you think my son is a coward?”
Chantel thought about this. “I’m not sure.”
The old woman scowled. “It was a rhetorical question, girl. You’ll stay here. My son will deal with you when he returns.”
“Where is he?” said Chantel.
“That’s not your concern. Nonetheless, I shall tell you, lest you doubt his courage. He is in the Hall of Patriarchs, renamed the Hall of Kings, and he is commanding the forces that defend the city.”
Chantel looked out over the city. Torchlight broke the darkness here and there, especially in the lower city. Lights reflected off the floodwaters, which seemed to cover much more of the city than before. And outside the walls, she could see the glow from the Marauders’ watchfires.
“It’s strange the people haven’t come to the castle,” said Franklin, beside her.
“Why would they?” said Chantel.
“For safety,” said Franklin. “It’s the whole point of castles.”
“I wonder if they’ve had a Contentedness spell put on them,” said Anna.
Chantel watched Lightning’s distant shape, like a shadow sliding across the ground.
“Come back, Lightning,” she said softly.
And the dragon turned slowly and gracefully, and rode the wind back up to the Castle Peak.
Lightning and Chantel delivered the girls who were going to do the spell to a flat rooftop near Dimswitch. Franklin stayed at the castle minding the little girls, with a very bad attitude and instructions to head back down to the dragon’s lair at the first sign of trouble.
It was still more than an hour before dawn when Chantel banged on the roof door of Miss Ellicott’s School for Magical Maidens.
She had to bang a long time before she heard footsteps on the ladder and a tremulous voice on the other side quavered “Go away!”
“Miss Flivvers, it’s me.”
There was a long pause. Then came the brassy rattle of bolts being shot back, and the door creaked open.
“Oh, it really is you,” said Miss Flivvers. She peered out, saw Lightning, and nearly fell down the ladder.
“It’s all right. It’s only Japheth,” Chantel lied.
Miss Flivvers stared at the dragon. “Where are the girls?”
“The littlest ones are up at the castle,” said Chantel hurriedly. “The king’s not there—”
“He’s down overseeing the defense of the city, of course,” said Miss Flivvers. “They say the Marauders have nearly breached the crack at Dimswitch. It could fall at any moment.” She seemed to recollect herself, and added, “But our king is doing everything for the best.”
Yes, definitely a Contentedness spell. Chantel could feel wisps of it in the air.
Miss Flivvers was still staring at the dragon. “The littlest ones are at the castle . . . Where are the others?”
“They’re safe,” said Chantel. If you could call standing on a rooftop in the midst of a flood, just one damaged wall away from masses of invaders, safe. “Can you get on the dragon please, Miss Flivvers? I’m in a hurry.”
Miss Flivvers, who was afraid of mice and cockroaches and almost anything with more than two legs, went on staring.
“You’ll be safer up at the castle,” Chantel said. “They—well, the invaders will get there last, anyway.”
That seemed to convince Miss Flivvers. She allowed Chantel to help her onto the dragon’s back, and they flew up to Castle Peak.
Chantel hurriedly whispered to the little girls that if things looked bad, if the Sunbiters got through Seven Buttons, they were to go to the dragon’s lair at once. If Miss Flivvers wouldn’t go, they should go without her.
And she climbed back on the dragon, and Franklin climbed up behind her, and they took off into the early morning twilight.
A stench rose from the flood—of dirty water, and rot, and dead things. Chantel tried to breathe through her mouth.
The scene in the lower city was chaotic.
The water had climbed to the top of Seven Buttons. Chantel was glad the girls could all swim now, although the water was so foul and dark, and so crammed with boats and rafts manned by soldiers and guardsmen, that falling in could still be disastrous.
They went to the roof where the girls, hidden by an abnegation, were getting ready to do magic. The girls were calm and serious. They used light-globes as they sorted their ingredients, practiced the new signs one last time . . .
“Chantel, it might still work if you stayed here,” said Anna.
“No, I’m going to the wall. There’s more chance of it working if I’m touching Dimswitch.”
Anna nodded. It was true.
“If it all goes wrong,” said Chantel, “head for the castle if you can. Don’t wait for me. I’ll . . . I’ll follow.”
“It won’t go wrong,” said Anna. She clenched her jaw. “It . . . ” She swallowed, and hugged Chantel. “Just remember you’re a Mage of the Dragon.”
Chantel nodded. She turned to Franklin. “You should stay here and . . .”
“No,” said Franklin. “If my father gets through . . . Well, anyway, I’m coming with you. There’s . . . something I need to do.”
Lightning was waiting patiently, treading water beside the rooftop, sending out waves.
They climbed on his back and he dragon-paddled through the lapping waters. All around them bobbed boats and rafts, full of boy-soldiers and sentinels silhouetted black against the sky. Chantel could see them pointing and muttering. They weren’t sure if Lightning was a good omen or a bad one.
“Hurry, Lightning, please,” Chantel urged. “We’re supposed to do the spell at dawn.”
A boat cut across their path. It was full of soldiers. Lightning started to swim around it.
“Halt!” called the sentinel standing in the bow.
Lightning swam on. Nobody tells dragons to halt.
“Chantel! Wait!” cried a voice from the boat.
Chantel’s heart leapt. “Wait, Lightning! It’s Bowser!”
The dragon stopped, with something of a shrug, and trod water.
Bowser stood up, making the boat rock. “Chantel, listen! The king wants—”
“His Majesty requires,” said a sentinel, casting a nervous glance at Lightning, “that the girl Chantel and the boy Franklin put themselves at his disposal immediately.”
“Bowser!” Chantel called. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”