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Closer, her looks were marred somewhat by scars.
“She’s seen her share of battles,” Wistala observed.
“The Tyr has a scarred face as well,” Takea whispered. “The scars look less strange when you see them together.”
Nilrasha accepted her bows and crossed necks with Ayafeeia. Nilrasha asked a few polite niceties about the quality of the pig, sheep, and cow from the Imperial Herd that she’d sent to the banquet and received thanks and compliments in return.
“Maidmother, I understand you have news for me,” Nilrasha said.
“I have an account of the completion of the war against the demen in the area of the Star Tunnel,” Ayafeeia said, her voice flat, as though she were suddenly a stranger to Drakine. “Further, we have one new recruit, a stranger to the Lavadome named Wistala.”
“Which is she, the one next to, errr—Takea?”
“Yes, my Queen.” Ayafeeia touched Wistala with an extended wingtip. Wistala thought it a protective, motherly gesture and warmed.
Nilrasha’s eyes widened for a moment and she swiveled her head on her neck to view Wistala from different angles.
“The shape of her snout. Good teeth and healthy gums, no mash of kern and onions for her. I would almost think—I see she has an injured wing.”
“It is healing and will be sound again, I expect. We almost lost her a second time during Paskinix’s escape. Young Takea here had captured Paskinix as he was about to kill Wistala, but he slipped away during our concern for Wistala as we climbed into the Star Tunnel.”
“Bad luck, Takea,” Nilrasha said. “The Tyr would have liked to see that egg-stealer brought to him in chains. But all know how slippery the old deman is. I shall be sure to mention it to my mate.”
“Thank you, my Queen,” Takea said, bowing—though she kept her eyes open.
Nilrasha stiffened a little. Wistala decided some slight had been offered.
Ayafeeia intervened, bowing with eyes closed. “My Queen, Wistala has just taken her first oath, so we all meet at feast. Will you join us?”
“Thank you for your kindness, sister, but a hard-flying courier bat has just come in.” She pointed to a nick of blood at her shoulder. “He tells me there is an emissary on the way and we are to gather to hear what he has to say. Such talk! It has been years since the Imperial Rock has seen such a rustling. And the visitor! The arrogance, the presumption . . .”>“Yes, I will,” Wistala repeated.
“Will you obey the orders of superior, maidmother, and Tyr?”
“Yes, I will,” Takea whispered.
“Yes, I will.”
“Will you brave want, pain, injury, and death in obedience to those orders and defense of this oath?”
“Same, again,” Takea said.
“Yes, I will,” Wistala said, after a moment’s confusion of almost letting same, again pass her snout.
“Takea, one more trick and I’ll put you on the southernmost rock as a watchkeeper,” Ayafeeia said.
Takea hung her head, but Wistala heard griff rattle.
“Then come and meet your sisters and call me maidmother.”
“Yes, maidmother,” Takea prompted.
“Yes, maidmother.”
“Welcome back to the Lavadome, our long-lost sister,” Ayafeeia said.
Wistala’s life had seen its share of happy moments, but this felt truer than most. Perhaps she’d been born for this and all her life had been training for this moment. Her hearts pounded with excitement.
“She’s blushing like you’re a dragon who’s sung his song to her,” one of the dragonelles said, twisting her head to and fro in amusement like a dog drying its ears.
