“Heeby, Heeby, it will be all right. Let him pass, let him pass!” Heedless of her own danger, Alise did her best to distract the anxious dragon as Leftrin set his palms to the chest-high pedestal and then vaulted up onto it. He seized Rapskal around the chest and then spun away from the statue, tearing the boy’s grip from the stone. As he did so, the keeper cried out wordlessly and suddenly went limp in the man’s arms. Leftrin staggered with his sudden weight, and both of them sank down to sit at the statue’s feet.

Heeby shifted restlessly, swinging her head back and forth in agitation. She was the only dragon who had never spoken to Alise. Despite being the only dragon who could both fly and hunt capably now, she had never seemed especially bright, although she had always seemed to share her keeper’s sunny temperament. Now as Leftrin held the youngster in his arms and spoke worriedly to him, the dragon seemed more like an anxious dog than a powerful predator.

Even so, Alise gave her a wide berth as she made her way to the dais. It took her considerably more effort to gain the top of it than it had Leftrin, but she managed. The captain knelt on the cold stone cradling Rapskal. “What’s wrong with him? What’s happened?”

“He was drowning,” Leftrin said in a low voice full of dread.

But as Rapskal’s face lolled toward her, she saw only his idiotically bemused grin and barely open eyes. She frowned. “Drowning? He looks more drunk than drowned! But where did he get spirits?”

“He didn’t.” Leftrin gave him another shake. “He’s not drunk.” But his next actions seemed to belie his statement as he gave Rapskal another shake. “Come out of it, lad. Come back to your own life. There’s a dragon here that needs you, and night is coming on. Storm’s coming in, too. If we’re to get to the other side before it’s dark, we need you to wake up.”

He glanced at Alise and became Captain Leftrin dealing with an emergency.