“Stay bricky boy,” I said quietly.

“Mr. Darwin,” I called. The young gentleman waded halfway over to me, looked down at Quartz, and nodded.

“Keep a close eye on this one,” said Mr. Darwin to the keeper.

I shook my head. I didn’t see how a close eye could help.

Mr. Darwin stood beside me, pulling at his long side whiskers thoughtfully. “Interesting that Quartz seems weaker than the rest, yet he is one of the largest, and has been stronger in general. It would appear that some individuals are simply more adaptable to a change in conditions.”

Despair dropped through my chest like a lead weight as Mr. Darwin walked away, scribbling in his notebook. It would never be warm enough. We could never re-create the lava plains of the Galapagos, the tunnels, the dry heat. Not here. I had brought these animals to a damp murky city, out of the center of a volcano.

“And the others—how is their weight?” I asked the keeper.

“No change,” he said.

“Well, they are fully grown now, so that’s expected,” replied Mr. Darwin.

I had nothing to say. Not in front of the keeper. The dragons were now the size of Labrador dogs, but they were far from fully grown. They were growing larger but not heavier, because their muscles were weakening. No one understood—the dragons were still babies.

“How has Farthing been?” I said, afraid of the answer.

“Oh, she’s still herself most of the time, bossing around the others.” The keeper smiled and nodded over my shoulder. Farthing reared up on her hind legs and hooted. I threw her a half-rotten sardine, and instead of catching it, she twisted and flicked it with her tail straight into the mouth of Magma, one of her sisters. I laughed.

No reptile expert had been able to confirm the dragon’s genders, but Mr. Darwin and I had agreed that we thought the females had slightly narrower snouts than the males.

We had made modifications over the last two months to improve their living area, giving them live fish to catch in a small pond, and rocks where they could take shelter, plus the braziers had just been installed in case they suffered from the lack of heat. But the ground was always muddy, as the enclosure was on soil, not rock; the stagnant water could not be kept fresh; and no matter how many keepers were employed to clean it out, there was a rancid stench.

“Still up to her tricks, then?” I said, throwing Farthing another fish. At least she had her appetite. For now.

“Sometimes, sir.” The keeper lowered his voice, side-glanced at Mr. Darwin, and leaned closer toward me. “Your visits raise her spirits. Then, after, she always paces the bars longer than the others.”

My face must have clearly painted my feelings at hearing this.

“Sorry, lad, but you did say you wanted to know everything,” he whispered.

I nodded, cleared my throat. “Yes.”

I felt a sudden burst of anger. I waded over to Mr. Darwin on the edge of the enclosure.