Finn crouched by the painting and brushed his fingers across the surface. ‘It was formed by skilled hands; a master craftsman made it. See the finish? It feels smooth. It’s been glossed with a transparent lacquer to preserve the paint.’

Dion was too engrossed to reply.

The painting depicted a stormy sky filled with dragons, hundreds of them, some massive and in the foreground, others wheeling in the distance. Wings like bats, thin as a ship’s sails and just as big, flashed in a radiant sun as the creatures soared. Each set of wings curved and met at a lithe, reptilian body, covered in diamond-shaped scales. Powerful forelimbs gave way to sharp, finger-sized claws, outstretched and ready to rend and tear. Hind legs were stronger still: thick and muscular, tucked in under the body. Huge, wedge-shaped heads with sweeping protrusions behind them tapered to vicious jaws. Some of the dragons’ jaws were parted, revealing rows of sharp teeth.

But these weren’t the dragons that Dion was used to.

The dragons in the painting, rather than being silver, as all eldren were when they changed, or black, as Dion knew he became, were uniformly blood-red. Their scales were the color of fire, or of bright arterial blood.

‘I don’t understand it,’ Dion murmured. He knelt and examined the painting, glancing at Finn. ‘These dragons are red. Why?’

‘I thought you might have the answer.’

‘Me?’ Dion shook his head. ‘No. Perhaps Zachary might be able to explain it . . .’

‘Do you know what that is?’ Finn pointed out a glowing arch in the background of the painting, standing tall and proud on a hill. A small robed figure near the arch held a staff, appearing to be half the height of the strange artifact beside him. It wasn’t a stone arch; it was rounded, and all of one piece.

‘I have no idea.’

Dion continued to stare at the painting. ‘This is troubling. They don’t look like they’re supposed to be threatening. It’s almost as if they’re being . . . glorified.’

‘What does it mean?’ Finn asked, perplexed. ‘See the staff? Like the woman you saw in the palace.’

Dion met Finn’s worried gaze. ‘Is this the power Palemon came back for?’

‘What do we do?’

‘Keep searching. I don’t care how much you have to pay, if you find anything else like this, bring it to me.’

Dion stared at the painting for a time longer before flicking a glance at Finn. ‘Well?’ He jerked his chin at the exit.

Finn left Dion muttering as he examined the painting.

‘Red dragons. An arch . . .’

It had been a week since Sophia’s last visit, and she was again at Eudora’s mother’s house. Nilus never released Eudora from her duties until late in the evening, and Sophia stifled a yawn as she crushed herbs and pounded at powders with a mortar and pestle.