rescue.”
She made an annoyed gesture of dismissal. “I had been in a very trying situation for months. I was out of temper.”
I conceded that being held captive would make me a bit testy as well, so I didn’t belabor that point. “I’m sorry if I assumed you were jealous of my relationship with Baltic, but you must admit, you have been more than a little hostile during the last week.”
“We were very close to seeing our plans to fruition. Baltic’s attention to those plans wavered once you returned to his notice. I was rightfully annoyed that he would push aside efforts that have taken years to lay into place.”
“Plans to retake Dauva?” I asked, suddenly suspicious.
“And reclaim my mother’s sword,” she answered without looking up from her glass.
I wondered if that was really true. Her expression seemed benign, but I couldn’t help but feel that her explanation lacked the ring of truth. I shrugged to myself, and told her I was going into Ziema for a little bit while she worked on unmaking the magic. She murmured something noncommittal in response.
It took all of five minutes to drive to the small suburb of Ziema, which I had been told was the Latvian word for winter. I spent the time worrying about meeting a woman who could well be the head of a fell group of dragons.
“If she is, she’s got to be too smart to mess with me,” I told myself as I waited on the train platform for Maura. “She has to know I won’t let her get away with harming Baltic in any way.”
Seven minutes after our appointment time, a commuter train pulled in, disgorging a handful of shoppers from Riga proper. I discounted the few men who marched past with backpacks or briefcases and eyed the women with interest. Most of them carried shopping bags, and some had small children in tow. A few lanky teens giggled at each other as they hunkered over their cell phones, texting like crazy. The last person off the train was a buxom woman a few inches taller than me, with porcelain skin and dark brown hair to her waist, streaked with warm amber lights that shone in the sun as she paused on the platform, glancing around curiously.
I stood up. “Maura?”
She turned to me with a half smile. “Yes. You must be Ysolde. It’s an honor to meet you.”
She didn’t offer her hand, but I knew that many people in the Otherworld preferred not to be touched, given their sensitivity to things like reading thoughts.
“I don’t know how much of an honor meeting me can give, but I appreciate the sentiment.” I studied her for a moment while she studied me. Her eyes were a light brown flecked with gold and black, and odd little red lights that hinted of her dragon father. She was very fair-skinned, but had a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. She looked to be in her early thirties, was on the plump side, and appeared just about as far from my idea of someone who raised spirits as I could imagine.
She laughed, and for a moment I thought she’d read my mind. “I don’t look anything like you imagined, do I?”
“I’m sorry.” My cheeks heated. “Was I gawking? I didn’t mean to be rude, but somehow I imagined someone who raised spirits to look . . . well . . .”
“More Goth?” she said, still laughing. “Dark and scary and mysterious? Not like Suzy Homemaker, right? It’s the curse of my maternal genes. My mother’s skipped me and I got my grandmother’s, instead. Nanna was from Scandinavia and was as round as she was short. I assure you that despite my appearance, I’m fully trained as a Summoner. And speaking of that, I don’t mean to rush you, but we’d better get started if we want to have a good chance of locating Constantine Norka before nightfall. Do you have a car?”
“Yes, I do. It’s not far to the remains of Dauva.”
“Oh, good. Can I drop off my bags at the hotel first?”
“Of course.”
It took us another half hour to swing by the hotel and leave off her things, let her change into clothing more suited to poking around in the forest, and gather up the items she needed to draw a summoning circle. I watched the clock warily, worrying that Thala would finish opening up the lair, which would mean Baltic would come looking for me.
“So are you out here by yourself?” Maura asked when we were finally on our way to the forest, her backpack of summoning tools sitting between our seats. “Or is your mate here?”
“No,” I lied, uncomfortable about doing so, but unwilling to expose Baltic to possible sources of danger. I decided to hedge my bets. “But I’m not alone. His lieutenant is here with me.”
“Ah. I don’t suppose he has any idea where to look for Constantine’s spirit?”
“She’s female, and no, I don’t believe she does, but that really doesn’t matter, because I think I’ve found the spot where he was slain.”
“Great. That ought to make things much easier,” she said with confidence that I found reassuring.
I pulled off the road at the entry point to the forest, deciding the time had come to do a little gentle probing on the issue of the ouroboros dragons. “So . . . how long have you been doing this?”
She followed me into the forest, pursing her lips as she thought. “About eighty years. Summoners are born, not made, so I really didn’t have much of a choice, if you know what I mean. Mom discovered that was where my talents lay, and sent me off to be trained properly.”
“Ah. You’re not involved with your father’s family at all?”
“No.” She slid me a curious glance. “As I said, he was killed by the wyvern after she kicked him out of the sept, so I don’t feel like I have to make overly nice to the red dragons.”
A telling statement, and yet one with which I could sympathize.
“You’re technically ouroboros, then. So are we. I don’t particularly like being separated from the weyr. It makes me feel . . . disjointed.”
“But Baltic has a new sept, doesn’t he?” she asked as we skirted a minute, murky black pond.
I wondered how she’d heard that if she didn’t stay in touch with dragons. “Yes, he does, but we’re not part of the weyr.”
“Well, it’s all the same thing, really, isn’t it?” She made a little gesture of dismissal. “You can’t pick your family, but you can your friends—that’s how I look at it. So I just make sure I pick good friends.”
“Other dragons, you mean?”
She slid me another curious look. “I’m ouroboros, as you just pointed out. Red dragons won’t have anything to do with me.”
“But other ouroboros dragons would,” I said with a complacence that I was far from feeling.
She stopped, eyeing me with a slight tinge of hostility. “I get the feeling you’re skating around a subject that you don’t want to come right out and say. What exactly is that, Ysolde?”
“I understand what it is to feel ostracized, and lost to everyone you love.” I chose my words with care. “I know how easy it is to be overwhelmed with the isolation, and how much it means when at last you find someone or a group of people to whom you feel you belong. I also know what it’s like to be in over your head, drowning with no sign of a life preserver in sight. I just want you to know that you’re not alone, Maura.”
She stood unmoving, her gaze searching mine, and then she suddenly made an exclamation of irritation. “It’s Emile, isn’t it?”
“Emile?”
“My grandfather.” She made another abrupt gesture, before hoisting her backpack higher on her shoulder and stepping out with a firm set to her jaw. “He’s been pestering me for the last decade to settle down, as he calls it, and now he’s obviously gotten you involved somehow. I can’t believe he’d do this! Why can’t he understand that I’m not going to live the life he wants me to live? I’m my own person, not an extension of him!”
I hurried to keep up with her, simultaneously alarmed and relieved that I didn’t have to couch my questions in obscurity any longer. “I’m sorry if you feel it’s overly invasive, but your mother and grandfather are very worried about you.”
“Is that why you brought me out here?” she asked, whirling around to face me, a scowl darkening her countenance. “You tricked me to come here just so you could try to talk me into going back home?”
“No, not at all.” I avoided the unpleasant thought that I had, in fact, done something very much like that. “I really do want Constantine’s spirit raised. I need to talk to him about something of great importance.”
She examined my face for a moment, then nodded abruptly. “All right. But the subject of my personal life is
