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Her relief turned to dread at what she beheld. The tunnel spilled out onto a circular platform, open to the elements, a sheer drop to the sea on the far side. The platform had a hole in the middle of the floor, and steam poured through, the ferocious wind sucking it out to sea.
Fyia took a step back, scared the wind might knock her off, sending her to her death on the rocks below.
'Terrifying, isn't it?' said a soft female voice from behind her.
Fyia whirled around to find a tall, dark woman with mismatched eyes—one brown, one green—watching her.
'It is,' said Fyia, honestly. 'You're the High Priestess?'
'I am, Your Majesty,' the woman said with a bow.
'You know why I'm here?'
'Because of the ball?'
'There was no egg?'
The High Priestess gave a short laugh. 'There was never an egg. A dragon clock used to sit in that hole in the ground. It was damaged by storm after storm, until eventually it fell into the heat below. That happened years ago, before my time. The High Priestess found a small metal ball lying next to the hole. She hid it, and passed it to me before she died.'
'Why did she hide it from the King?'
The priestess scoffed. 'The Kings have never been friends of ours.'
'Did she know what it was?'
'No.'
'Did she try to find out?'
'If she did, she never told me.'
'Did you?'
The priestess laughed, the sound a light tinkle that seemed to blend with the wind. 'Where would I look? And anyway, we're more concerned with replacing the clock and closing the hole. It took years just to find a female engineer qualified to survey the damage.'
'Essa.'
The priestess nodded. 'I showed her the hole and the ball. She took the ball, then left. I haven't seen or heard from her since, and every day the smoke worsens. Will you help us close it, Your Majesty?'
'You can't use your magic?'
The priestess laughed. 'Much as we appreciate your making magic legal once more, ours has withered and all-but died. I'm scared even to try. Small healing magics and the like are all we can manage.' The priestess took Fyia's hand, then muttered a few words Fyia couldn't make out. The burns on her skin disappeared, her aches vanishing.
'Thank you,' said Fyia. She flexed her fingers, examining the healed skin, barely able to believe it.
The priestess staggered back against the wall. 'You see?' she said, breathing hard. 'Even that small working has left me frail and feeble.'
'I'm sorry,' said Fyia. 'I wish there was more I could do. I'll speak with Essa, certainly, but … what's down there?'
The priestess held Fyia's gaze for a beat. 'Fire of the Seven Hells, Your Majesty.'
Fyia sat back in her chair, glad to be reunited with her wolves, whose familiar weight pressed against her legs. Her Small Council stretched out along the table before her—all except Lord Eratus Venir, who was still across the Kraken Sea.
'Starfall,' said Fyia, 'if you'd be so kind.'
Starfall raised an eyebrow. 'Everything's going about as well as can be expected,' she said, with her characteristic nonchalance. 'The market owners delayed until the last tick, but they complied with your new laws. They're enforcing fair pay … for now, at least.'
Fyia looked to Lady Nara for confirmation. Nara inclined her head.
