What was originally a nondescript smudge on the horizon—and then obscured by low clouds for the next few days—gradually resolves into a coastline. Just about everyone in Fyreneth’s Fortress migrates from the city center to the outer walls to look down on the approaching land. We’re not heading directly toward the coast, but floating along nearly parallel to it. The water turns sapphire blue as it approaches the mainland.

  Boats speckle the water, though I can’t make out a port. It can’t be far, though, given so many indications of civilization. Each day I fly a few laps around the city, fixing up the walls, but mostly watching the string of islands that passes beneath us, looking for any sign of civilization.

  I land on the wall near Mirzayael, Nek, Torim, and Dizzi, cutting off my Jet. They’re all craning over the wall’s parapet, looking down on the thousand-foot drop with varying levels of unease. Or in Dizzi’s case, giddy excitement.

  “Do you think we should try to make contact this time?” I ask them. “They might be able to point us to the nearest city.”

  “Would we even be able to do anything with that information?” Torim asks.

  I waffle my hand while Dizzi shakes her head.

  “We’re more at the whims of the wind than anything,” she says.

  “We can technically nudge the Fortress in whatever direction we like, though doing so drains the cloudstone,” I add. “Although momentum is the larger factor. We actually lag the speed of the wind quite a bit due to all the drag we create.”

  “Does all that mean we can, or can’t control where it goes?” Mirzayael asks.

  “Can’t,” Dizzi says, as I say, “Can.”

  Dizzi snorts. “Okay technically we can control it, it would just drain all our magic and then we’d be landing in the ocean. So realistically: Can’t.”

  “It won’t drain all the cloudstone to give us a nudge here and there,” I say. “At the very least, we might be able to rely on the butterfly effect. A small correction now can end up being miles of difference later. Which is why it would be nice to know more about where we are and where we’re heading.”

  “Getting confirmation of our maps would be valuable,” Torim agrees. There’s an unspoken ‘but’ at the end of his comment.

  “Would the risk to the harpies we send down be worth it?” Mirzayael wonders.

  I hesitate. “I wouldn’t want to seem aggressive, but…”

  Mirzayael grins. “This I have to hear.”

  “What if we sent down a deterrent?” I say. “Something that might make them think twice about attacking us.”

  “What sort of deterrent are you thinking?” Nek asks.

  A shadow flickers over us, briefly blotting out the sun as Ollie circles and lands on a wide stretch of wall nearby. The stone beneath our feet shakes as he sets down.

  “FYRE!” He turns to me with a terrifying grin. “LOOK WHAT MERITIS AND I FOUND!”

  The harpy hops from his back, holding up something slimy and writhing. “Look what Ollie found!”

  “What in the Abyss is that?” Mirzayael demands, taking the words right out of my mouth.

  “ECHO SAYS IT’S A STRIPED EEL,” Ollie says, while Meritis says, “I dunno, but Ollie ate a lot of them!”

  Mirzayael puts a hand on my arm as my alarm spikes.

  “Are they safe to eat?” I cry.

  [Check: Striped eel,] Echo pipes up. [These predators are known for luring birds and wyverns in by swimming near the surface, only to use water arcana to knock the flying creatures from the sky and drown them beneath the waves.]

  I guess that didn’t work out in their favor when they lured in a dragon.

  But are they toxic? I ask Echo.

  [Negative.]

  Thank god.

  “I’m sure the kitchen will be… surprised to work with this,” I say. “Meritis, would you mind taking that up to the palace?”

  “Sure! Bye, Ollie!” He waves the eel around as he jumps back into the air and spirals off toward the palace.

  “THEY’RE REALLY TASTY,” Ollie says as he watches the harpy leave. “LIKE FISH STICKS.”

  “Perhaps you can lead some fishing excursions,” I tell him. “But first, I’ve got a different task I’d like to ask you to help with.”

  Nek’s eyes widen. “Well, he’ll certainly act as a deterrent, that’s for sure.”

  “Or his presence will instigate a fight,” Torim remarks. “I don’t know many who will take a look at him and feel more at ease.”

  “We don’t need them to feel at ease,” Mirzayael says. “We need them to think twice about attacking our scouts.”

  “It’s not a perfect plan,” I admit. “But since Ollie and I are connected, I’ll be able to see through his eyes and hear through his ears. I won’t be able to speak, but I will be able to keep tabs on what’s occurring, so I can immediately notify others if we need to send backup.” I turn to Ollie. “But the decision is not up to us, it’s up to you. Would you like to accompany some of the scouts down to greet the ships?”

  “OH, YES!” Ollie cries. “THAT SOUNDS FUN. I’VE BEEN WANTING TO SAY HI TO THE BOATS, BUT MERITIS TOLD ME WE PROBABLY SHOULDN’T WHENEVER I GOT TOO CLOSE.”

  “Remind me to give Meritis a hug later,” I privately remark to Mirzayael. Her mouth twitches in the ghost of a smile.

  “Let’s organize a party.” Mirzayael nods to Nek and Dizzi. “Nek, bring all our harpy scouts to the wall. Dizzi, any harpy volunteers you can find. Eighteen or older.”

  “Aye, Captain!” Dizzi says with a mock salute, then jumps from the wall. Nek departs with a more formal bow.

  I regard Ollie as we wait for the others to return. He has a small saddle that was made for me before I had learned how to fly, though I haven’t needed to use it since then. When Meritis rides on Ollie’s neck, he just slots himself between a few spines and loosely holds on with his arms and legs; falling off isn’t a great risk when he can just continue to fly nearby.

  “Ollie, what do you think about other people riding on your back?” I ask him. “Would that be okay with you?”

  He’s flopped over on his side while we’re waiting for the others to return, eyes half closed and tail draped over the wall like a cat lounging in the sun. He tips his head at my question.

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  “UM, SURE, I GUESS,” he says. “WHICH ONES?”

  “Anyone who can’t fly,” I say. “We could make a much larger saddle to put on your back so you could help take people like Mirzayael or Nek down to the surface. They wouldn’t have any other way to get down.” At least, not yet.

  “OH, OKAY!” Ollie stretches, a low yawn rumbling down his throat. “NOT BEING ABLE TO FLY WOULD BE SO SAD. I LOVE FLYING!”

  I chuckle, patting his snout. “Me too.”

  I can feel a mental objection surfacing from Mirzayael, but whatever she’d been thinking, she doesn’t voice it.

  “We could perhaps fit up to twenty passengers on his back,” Mirzayael says instead, looking over him thoughtfully.

  “I was thinking closer to thirty,” I say. “More maybe if you add riders along the neck spines.”

  Mirzayael shakes her head. “That might restrict his mobility. And we will want to save room for storage space.”

  “Oh, good point,” I agree. “We’ll likely be participating in trade and will need ways to secure cargo of various shapes and sizes.” I frown. “Though Ollie can’t be our only source of transportation. That will significantly limit our capabilities.”

  Mirzayael raises an eyebrow. “Just how much trade do you think we will be engaging in?”

  “As much as we can, I suppose.” But the question is, how? I don’t want Ollie to become a pack mule, but the harpies can’t carry much on their own. We’ll need to make some form of aircraft to rise and descend. Already a couple ideas are percolating in the back of my head; I’ll need to discuss them later with Dizzi.

  “In the meantime,” I say, pulling my attention back to the present, “what can we bring for today’s encounter?”

  “What do you mean?” Mirzayael asks.

  I splay my hands. “We can’t have a dragon and small platoon of armed harpies drop down on them and have nothing to show for a peace offering. We want to start off on the right foot.”

  “A gift?” Mirzayael makes a face. “We already have scarcely little to give away.”

  “Something to trade,” I counter. “Perhaps they’ll have something that could benefit us.”

  “I don’t know what we can afford to lose,” Mirzayael says.

  She has a point there. We can’t give up any of our food or crops, and we’re not prosperous enough yet to have made much beyond the essentials.

  I could offer up some of the fireworks Dizzi and I have been working on. (Okay, mostly Dizzi, after I showed her the basics.) I could create things from the material that’s still stored in the Dungeon Core’s Inventory, though mostly all I have to offer are different types of stone. Perhaps some of that would be valuable for building material, but it would be far too heavy for harpies to carry. What do we have to offer today? Something lightweight. Something disposable. Is there anything we needed when we were in the arctic that isn’t as necessary now?

  “What about winter gear?” I ask, turning to Torim. “Some felis and arachnoid families were working on heavy blankets, weren’t they?”

  “They made a few blankets and coats before the Fortress took flight,” Torim says. “But once the climate spell took hold, they shifted to warm weather garb.”

  “Do we still have those?” I ask. “If they’re not in use, that could be something we can stand to trade for something more valuable.”

  Mirzayael nods appreciatively. “I like this idea. Yes, let’s investigate if the textile group has anything in storage they are willing to share.”

  “Of course.” Torim steps away to speak with an arachnoid guard, who hurries off to deliver the message. While harpies are the fastest species in Fyreneth’s Fortress, arachnoids are a close second, and perhaps even exceed harpies when navigating streets and indoor buildings.

  Nek’s harpy guards are the first to return, followed a few minutes later by a handful of volunteers Dizzi was able to gather. Altogether we have nineteen harpies who volunteer to fly down and greet the ships with Ollie.

  “Should Dizzi be in charge?” I privately ask Mirzayael. “She is the Royal Scientist, so she has seniority.”

  Mirzayael doesn’t attempt to hide the face she makes. “She’s likely to get us in a geopolitical conflict.”

  I rub my nose, hiding my smile. “Disarming friendliness may play to our advantage. Are there any acceptable alternatives?”

  Mirzayael looks over her guards. “Salvia is my best guard. They’re Hetlanir’s child.” My heart sinks at the reminder; Hetlanir had been the lost colony’s leader before he died saving Beryl from the Jorrian’s attack. “However, they won’t turn twenty for another two months. They are intelligent and perceptive, but young and lack experience.” She hesitates. “And I think you’re right that someone stiff and rigid is not who we need in this situation.”

  I raise an amused eyebrow at her. “What’s this? You’re recommending we put someone excitable and friendly in charge?”

  Her lips pull in the faintest of smiles. “Only in this specific instance.”

  “Alright, you two love birds,” Dizzi says, landing on the wall near us. “You’re doing that thing again where you go all silent and make eyes at each other. What’s going on?”

  Warmth colors my cheeks, and Mirzayael scowls, turning to Dizzi. “We were discussing if you were the optimal candidate to lead this mission. I am having second thoughts.”

  Dizzi grins. “It’s my winning personality, isn’t it?”

  “Actually, yes,” I say before Mirzayael and completely rescind her decision. “We want to start off on the right foot. Which means your curiosity and personability will work in our favor—and we would also like to request that you refrain from engaging in any talk about bomb making, explosives, or any weaponry for that matter.” She opens her mouth. “No matter how conversation-relevant it might be.”

  “Awww,” Dizzi sighs. “Well, alright, you guys are the boss. Bosses. Queens.”

  Mirzayael’s eye twitches.

  I decide to pull Dizzi aside to give Mirzayael a break as I deliver the rest of the brief. “There will be a few goals to this encounter,” I tell her. “First of course, is to establish friendly relations and gather more information about our location. If we can obtain a world map, or even a local map, so much the better. If you have the opportunity, we’re also open to engaging in trade…”

  Despite Dizzi’s excitable nature, she really is sharp as a razor and quickly picks up on what we’re asking her to do. By the end of the hour, Torim’s scout returns with some textile workers, showing us some frankly stunning silk blankets and fur coats they’d produced. I’m hesitant to give them up, in fact, but the weavers seem very excited to have their work offered as our city’s first official attempt at trade. Whatever we get in return, I’m going to make sure they’re significantly rewarded for their generosity.

  The heavy blankets and winter coats also end up being too heavy for many of the harpies to fly with, so in the end we bundle it all together and secure them high on Ollie’s neck. Having witnessed Ollie’s water landings before, and his aversion to any form of caution, we decide the goods would be safer higher up.

  He wiggles his neck as they’re fixed in place. “IT ITCHES,” he complains, scratching at his neck just below the ties.

  “Careful!” I say. “If you snag them, it will all come apart.” I pull his massive claws away and dig my fingers into his scales, scratching as hard as I can under and around the ropes. He rumbles happily, tipping his head back. “It will just be for a little bit, too. We’ll try to get them off as soon as we can. And we’ll work on something that feels better for next time.”

  “FIIIIINE,” he sighs, giving a disappointed grumble when I stop scratching. He flutters his wings. “THEN LET’S HURRY UP AND DO IT!”

  “Let’s,” I agree.

  Mirzayael is already in the midst of doling out final orders to her scouts; the volunteer harpies attempt to look sufficiently professional as she does.

  I activate Psionic Senses, and feel the mental connection to Ollie snap into focus. Suddenly our surroundings sound louder and echoey, and I’m presented with double-vision as I look through Ollie’s eyes back down at us all gathered around him. I close one eye to help separate my vision from his. We really do look small from his perspective.

  “I’ll be with you the whole time,” I tell him, sending a wave of reassurance along with the thought.

  Ollie, who likely doesn’t even recognize the potential danger of any of this, happily beams in my head. “OKAY!”

  “Alright then.” I look back over the wall. I want so badly to go with them. My range is almost, almost enough to accompany them. Maybe I can expedite my research into the Fortress’s defense systems, which I’ve admittedly been neglecting. But for today, there’s nothing I can do but watch.

  “Ready?” Mirzayael mentally nudges.

  I nod.

  Mirzayael turns back to the harpies. “Ready?” I can feel anticipation humming through Ollie. “Launch!”

  Ollie lets out an excited trill as he dives off the wall, and the flock of harpies descend after him.

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