I have to close both eyes when Ollie drops toward the ocean and the double vision becomes too dizzying.

  “You alright?” Mirzayael asks.

  “Yes.” Ollie is laughing in my head as he plummets several hundred feet before snapping his wings open and slowing his descent. “Just keeping an eye on things.”

  “Keep me tied in,” Mirzayael says. Her voice is tight, and I can feel her anxiety through our mental bond. Not that Mirzayael particularly gets anxious—at least, not in the way I feel it from Ollie or even the Dungeon Core. Her form of anxiety feels more like a mental tension; sharp, high vigilance, as if readying for an attack. I wonder what mine feels like to her? Not that anxiety is something I often experience.

  Ollie flares his wings, banking toward the rapidly approaching ships, and my stomach flutters.

  Okay, anxiety isn’t something I often experience. Outside worrying about Ollie.

  The ships themselves aren’t particularly large—perhaps there’s a ten-person crew on each one—though over the last hour they’ve all grouped up, likely in reaction to the appearance of a floating city hovering overhead. Dizzi flies out ahead of Ollie, turning back to him.

  “I’ll go first,” she tells him. “You can land in the water over there.” She points to an area that gives the ships a healthy buffer of distance, though not, I notice, outside Ollie’s Icebeam range.

  “AWWW, I WANTED TO GET CLOSER,” Ollie grumbles.

  “Listen to Dizzi,” I tell him. “You’ll be able to swim over if it’s safe.”

  He makes his pouting known, but complies, kicking up a spray of water as he flaps his wings just before dropping down into the water.

  “AH,” he sighs contentedly, shaking down his body like a dog. He nearly dips his head under, too, before Mirzayael catches the thought.

  “Keep the goods dry!” she cries, and Ollie’s head jerks back up in surprise.

  “SORRY,” he says, embarrassed. “I FORGOT.”

  I feel regret color Mirzayael’s mind, too. “No, it’s alright. I shouldn’t have yelled.”

  Ollie is quickly distracted as a couple harpies land on his back, and he concentrates very hard on not shaking them off. They tickle.

  Ahead of him, Dizzi and the rest of the harpies are nearing the three ships. Their wind affinities allow them to almost hover in place, which is a small blessing; at least they can approach slowly and hopefully convey that they aren’t a threat.

  Unfortunately, they’re slightly too far away for Ollie to hear any discussion that might be taking place between them.

  “Can Ollie move closer?” I ask Mirzayael. I feel her lean forward next to me, likely looking down over the wall.

  “How close does he need to get?”

  “I can’t accurately gauge his distance from here,” I admit. “Would it be risky to close half the distance?”

  Mirzayael is silent for a moment. “It might make them nervous. But I think it will be alright if he can do so gradually, without drawing much attention to himself.”

  Easier said than done with a dragon. But I can’t be of any help if I can’t hear what’s being discussed.

  “Ollie?” I prompt. “Would you mind swimming a little closer? But do it slowly if you can. Like you’re sneaking up on them.”

  Maybe not the best simile, but it gets the point across.

  “OH, YEAH!” Ollie says. “I’M GOOD AT SNEAKING. I’VE GOT A LOT OF FISH THAT WAY. LOOK, I CAN DO IT WITHOUT EVEN MOVING MY LEGS!”

  Ollie is still watching the nearby ships, but I can feel his tail begin to gently wave back and forth. Sure enough, it propels him forward with barely a ripple. I’m not sure if the harpies on his back even notice they’re drifting.

  “Great job,” I tell him. He really is surprisingly good at sneaking, despite his thousands of kilograms of mass. “I’ll let you know where to stop. But if you hear anyone yell, or if anyone throws anything at you, stop right away.”

  Not that arrows have proven capable of doing any damage to Ollie in the past, and not that I can see any sort of cannons on the nearby ships, but I’m not willing to chance it.

  Ollie, for his part, seems entirely unbothered by the warning. His mind is skipping around between all sorts of thoughts, from wanting to duck under the waves for a proper swim, to reminding himself not to knock off any of his harpy passengers like he did that one time with Meritis, to wondering if the boats would like to race, later.

  Dizzi and several harpies are hovering at deck-level before the nearest ship, still a healthy distance away. Good; them being so low might help them appear less intimidating. Ollie’s distance is still far from ideal, but I can start to make out some of the conversation taking place.

  “...don’t even know what that is,” Dizzi admits. “Our city is pretty new, actually.”

  The captain, a dracid, nervously glances toward me. Or, Ollie, rather.

  “That’s enough,” I tell him. “Stop here.”

  “You understand our wariness, what with your beast nearby,” she says. The dracid speaks with a strong, lyrical accent, barely hitting the hard sounds while leaning into the soft ones. I’d noticed the Jorrians had a faint accent, too, but not nearly as strong as this.

  Ollie mentally laughs at being called a beast, and huffs out a frosty breath. I have to curb my own annoyance at the descriptor, but it’s probably for the best Ollie takes it as a compliment.

  Dizzi holds up her hands. “Sorry. I can see how it looks. He’s just here for our own protection. We didn’t know who we’d end up talking to down here. If it helps, I can come aboard alone.”

  I tense up.

  “What is it?” Mirzayael asks.

  “Dizzi offered to board the ship by herself,” I say. More than ever, I wish we had a better way to communicate. Mirzayael’s spider constructs work well as recording devices, but what we really need are radios. My Psionic Link serves exactly such a purpose, however the spell is permanent, and bringing too many people into the network concerns me from a privacy standpoint.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Mirzayael swears. “I knew I should have put one of my guards in charge.”

  I chew on the inside of my cheek. “Nothing we can do about it now. It might be alright.”

  The dracid captain glances between Dizzi, Ollie, the other ships, and the rest of the harpies hovering nearby. Finally, she nods. “Alright. Just you for now.”

  “Ollie, can you get Echo to Check that person?” I ask him. “Everyone else, too, but her first.”

  “SURE!”

  Dizzi alights on the rail of the fishing boat, which fills me with relief. She may be overly enthusiastic, at times, but she’s not naive. Keeping to the rail gives her a quick escape route if needed, and prevents her from being surrounded. I relay everything I see and hear to Mirzayael. She doesn’t respond, but her tension winds tighter.

  Ollie starts reading off stats he’s getting from Echo.

  The captain is a Level 31 Dracid Navigator named Marina. That class sounds relatively benign, which I count as a good sign. Everyone else on her ship is lower level and also have classes related to fishing, sailing, or merchandising. Each level and class he reads off makes me feel a little bit better about the situation. No one seems to have a primary class in some field of combat, at least.

  The ship also includes two new species of people. Echo had given me the names ‘nereid’ and ‘lamia’ before, but this is my first time seeing them. Nereids are aquatic looking people covered in scales and fins, with gills adorning their throats. They’re mostly blue, green, and purple. Lamia, meanwhile, appear to have the torso of a human, but are snake from the waist down. The snake half comes in varying patterns of diamonds and stripes in just about every color imaginable. I hope both of these species shed.

  “You’re sure that’s not the Drifting Isles?” Marina asks, glancing up at our city.

  Curious, I ask Ollie to look up at us too. He cranes his head back toward the city.

  I suck in a breath.

  “Fyre?” Mirzayael asks, alarmed.

  “It’s okay,” I say. “I just haven’t seen the Fortress from the ground before. It’s… it’s something else.”

  Clouds swirl around the city, repelled by our atmospheric spell system, which creates a dramatic, almost hurricane-like effect. I had never considered how big the city would appear from the ground. For some reason, I thought it would look smaller or more distant. But there’s no hiding this castle in the sky. It stretches wide overhead, and the underbelly of carved cloudstone and enormous rudders provides an imposing view. No wonder the ships were nervous. Ollie would be the least of their worries.

  “No, sorry,” Dizzi says. “Just your typical flying city. Actually, we were hoping to get some directions.”

  Marina snorts, giving Dizzi a skeptical but amused look. “Where to?”

  “Well, where are, more like,” Dizzi says. “Is this Dunmora?”

  “Yes…” The captain pauses as if she’s unsure if she should say more. Then she whistles for one of her crewmates, and a human hurries over to her side. Dizzi’s wings give a small flap; she was startled by the human, but she plays it off like she’s just adjusting her balance. Marina tells him to go retrieve one of her coastline maps, and the human runs off.

  Dizzi nods to the other nearby ships, gradually drifting closer. “Friends of yours?”

  “Competitors,” Marina says. “We all fish the same waters. Though the arrival of your city somewhat overshadowed our rivalry, and we were about to speak when your flock arrived. There’s been talk of the Drifting Isles passing over the last few days. I suspect the sightings have actually been you.”

  “Guilty,” Dizzi says with a grin. “And I know it sounds unlikely, but we really are just a recently-launched city trying to figure out where we are and where we’ll be headed. So any information you can offer is helpful.” She gestures back toward Ollie. “We’ve got a small store of supplies, too, that we can use in payment. If you’re okay with it, I can have them bring some over.”

  Marina again gives Ollie a calculating look.

  I mentally prod him. “Can you show her the gifts you brought?”

  “SURE!” Ollie turns his head to the side so Dizzi and Marina have a better view of the bundle strapped to his neck.

  The captain’s eyebrows lift. “I’ve never seen a tame dragon before. At least, not one of this size.”

  “He’s not tame, he’s intelligent,” Dizzi says. “Which is why he’s no danger to you unless you’re a danger to us. Right Ollie?”

  Ollie proudly lifts his chin and gives a happy trill at being recognized. His Role means that he has to protect me, but I can tell that he’s tickled by the idea that everyone in the Fortress sees him as a sort of guardian. I’ll have to be careful to not let that pride balloon out of proportion, no matter how much he’s earned it.

  “He’s named Ollie?” Marina repeats dubiously.

  “Yes, and it’s a very good name,” Dizzi insists. “Hey, would you mind passing on the message to the other ships that we’re not here to cause any trouble? I’d like to send some of my flock to greet them, too, but it would help smooth things out if you could vouch for us.”

  Marina gives Dizzi a long, hard look, and I can’t blame her. She doesn’t know a thing about us yet. Vouching for us is a stretch. But Dizzi’s question was made so casually and innocently, I think she understands there was no ill intent behind it.

  “You may bring over the goods,” Marina finally responds. “I wish to check the content. If it’s as you say, I’ll pass your message along.”

  Dizzi perks up. “Great! Thanks for giving us a chance.” She waves for Ollie to swim over, and he’s more than happy to do so. The ship’s crew nervously backs away when Ollie rests his chin on the railing beside Dizzi and she scratches his muzzle in his favorite spot. Two of the harpies set to work untying the goods. To the captain’s merit, she doesn’t retreat, watching Ollie with an obvious mix of fear and awe.

  The bundle of goods is unloaded, and Marina inspects the contents. Dizzi invites a couple more harpies on board—the volunteers, I notice, not any of Mirzayael’s guards—and instigates lighthearted small talk with a couple of the crew. I recall Dizzi acting in a similar fashion when we first encountered her colony and both sides were tense and uncertain around each other. She was the first to jump in, the first to ask questions and chat openly. And just like back then, her carefree attitude is starting to warm both groups to each other. She’s the oil we need in our machine, I realize. As much as she’s happy to bury herself in artificing and research, it’s her people skills we’re going to need to make better use of going forward.

  I smile to myself. I’m sure I’ll never hear the end of it if I ask her to become an ambassador.

  After another minute of talk, the captain heads to the bow of her ship. I can’t really tell what she’s doing from the way Ollie is angled, but he glances her way after the first flash of light bursts into the sky. He lifts his head, watching curiously.

  Marina has one hand pressed to a spell circle carved into the bow of her ship, and her other hand is held before her, moving rapidly through different gestures. At the same time, large symbols appear in the air above her.

  “OH!” Ollie says. “ECHO SAYS ‘FOREIGN LANGUAGE DETECTED.’ SHOULD I TRANSLATE?”

  “Please do!” I say, fascinated by the display. The symbols overhead are fairly simple in design: a circle, or a cross, or a line. Shapes that could be easily distinguished from a large distance. They sometimes change color, too. That combination of shape and color could produce a multitude of meanings, I imagine. It’s similar to signal lights we’d use at airports, but this version appears far more complex and seems to be derived from some sort of sign language.

  Ollie begins to repeat the translations he receives from Echo. “UM, IT’S KIND OF CONFUSING,” he admits. “THEY’RE NOT USING FULL SENTENCES. OKAY, SHE’S SAYING: ENCOUNTER POSITIVE UNCERTAIN. DANGER LOW UNCERTAIN. TRADE OFFER LINENS. REQUEST BOARDING. REQUEST HEADING.” Ollie pauses when Marina stops signing and the last glowing symbol dies out. “WHAT’S ALL THAT MEAN?”

  “I think she’s saying they’re still a little unsure about us, but are tentatively vouching for us,” I reply, puzzling through the message myself. “At least she passed along the message that we’re just here to trade and get a map.”

  “Hm.” Mirzayael’s skepticism permeates her reaction to Ollie’s report. “The message does appear friendly, at least on the surface.”

  I chuckle. “You think there might be a hidden and malicious message somewhere in there?”

  “It’s entirely possible,” she insists. But there’s no fire behind her words. “Though, strange as it may seem, I suspect you are right in this instance.”

  I laugh. “Just in this instance.”

  The other ships respond a minute later, agreeing to boarding and trade. Marina gives the go-ahead for Dizzi to speak with the other ships, and she splits up the harpies, flitting around to introduce each group herself.

  Over the next hour, the anxiety that had been distantly brewing inside me evaporates. The ships offer their maps for consultation, one trades us a copy, and as soon as one ship makes an offer on the fur coats and blankets, a bidding war between the vessels ensues.

  The day grows long, and Ollie and the harpies eventually return to the city with a large store of fish and a handful of maps in tow. Everyone excitedly gathers around the spoils as they’re laid out to be recorded. Mirzayael congratulates Dizzi on the ‘competent negotiations which exceeded her expectations’; a level of praise which shocks Dizzi even more than it does me.

  That night, I fall asleep smiling.

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