Above the mess cavern, Roberto vaulted onto Erob’s back. Two steps later, Erob was airborne. Roberto let out a gusty sigh. “Sometimes I think the politics in this place are going to do my head in.”
“You’re used to the Naobian Sea, the wide open coasts and endless blue. Living in this basin is hard on you.”
“Not as hard as life in Naobia.”
Erob coasted over fields of crops. “Those memories will fade soon enough. You have your whole life in front of you. Where to?”
“The knife-throwing range. That shrotty louse Simeon has hidden Ezaara’s cane.”
Erob roared, a tremor running through his body.
Roberto grinned. He felt exactly the same.
They descended toward the field. In the distance, a green dragon was returning to the caverns.
“It’s Ajeuria,” said Erob. “The master healer must’ve been foraging for herbs.”
Roberto dismounted by the targets, scanning the grass. He’d felt Ezaara’s anguish in the corridor; he knew Sofia’s stabbing was an accident, but those keen to discredit the Queen’s Rider were using this to their advantage. His boots tapped something in the grass—Sofia’s lucky blade, crusted with blood. He stuck it in his belt and checked behind the targets. The cane wasn’t there. Where had Simeon put it?
Erob melded, “They flew off from over there, so perhaps it’s nearby?”
Roberto searched the bushes, the long grass at the edge of the field, and then scoured the surrounding trees. “What a waste of a morning, and all before breakfast.”
Erob shot him a mental image of himself: face dirt-smeared, a twig in his hair and grass seed stuck to his jerkin. “All in service to your Queen’s Rider.”
“All in service to that slimy cockroach who’s furthering his political interests and worming his way into the Queen’s Rider’s trust. Huh!”
But when Erob shot him the image again, Roberto had to chuckle. He looked a sight.
“Jealous?”
“What? Of that creep? Of course not.”
§
Roberto found Kierion sharpening his blade against a grindstone. “Kierion.”
The boy looked up. “Yes, Master Roberto?”
“I have a challenge for you.”
Kierion’s face shone as he sheathed his sword. “I’m your man.”
“The Queen’s Rider’s cane has gone missing.” How could he phrase this delicately? “I believe one of the trainees has played a prank on her.”
“It wasn’t me, sir.” Kierion’s voice was earnest. “I’d own up if I’d done it. Promise.”
Roberto chuckled. A true prankster, Kierion was the most inventive of his students. “I’m not here to blame you, but to ask for your help.”
“So, you want me to find it?”
“It was last seen at the knife-throwing grounds.”
Kierion hissed through his teeth. “They’re saying Ezaara knifed Sofia on purpose. I don’t believe it, but I bet that’s why someone hid her stick.”
Roberto corrected him. “Her cane is ornately carved, much more than a stick, but speculation leads to gossip, Kierion. It’s probably just a joke.” If only. “Let’s go. Erob’s waiting.”
“Erob!” Kierion grinned. “Wow, I’m definitely in. I’ve never been on a royal dragon before.”
Roberto had to smile. Kierion’s enthusiasm was catchy.
As they jumped off the ledge, Kierion let out a whoop. Roberto sighed—so much for searching without anyone noticing. They descended to the grass at the edge of the trees.
Kierion slid down from Erob, all business. “Where have you already searched?”
“Throughout the grass, among these trees and in those bushes. It could be anywhere. It might not even be here anymore.”
Kierion bit his lip. “That’s possible, but there are a few great hiding places around here. Follow me.”
Traipsing through the trees, they came to a rotting log in the grass. Kierion knelt at one end and peered inside. “Empty. We’ll try the next spot.” They headed toward a cluster of bushes and tangled vines. Kierion and Roberto lifted up the edges of the vines and poked their swords into the bushes. Still nothing.
“There’s one more spot, before we search the whole area,” Kierion said. “Have you looked high in branches in case someone tied it in the top of a tree?”
“I had a cursory look, but nothing that thorough. Erob will scout from above.”
“If your search wasn’t that thorough, why did you end up with leaves in your hair?” Erob asked.
“Cheeky dragon,” Roberto melded. “If I admit it, Kierion will show me up.”
Erob chuckled and, within moments, was airborne, surveying the treetops.
Kierion took Roberto back toward the field. “We should’ve checked this spot first, but I thought it was too obvious.” He stopped in front of a lightning-struck strongwood tree. “Give me a leg up?”
Roberto hoisted him up and Kierion’s head and shoulders disappeared into a hole in the trunk.
“Found something.” His voice was muffled. He pulled his head out. Burnt bits of bark were stuck in his hair and his face was soot-smudged. He yanked Ezaara’s cane from the hollow, grinning. “We did it.”
Roberto’s breath caught in his throat—the cane was jagged, the shaft broken in half.
“Shards! Let me have another look.” Kierion reached back into the hollow and fished out the other piece of the cane. He whistled. “That’ll take some fixing.”
Roberto’s gut was hollow. A whole night’s work, viciously broken. He took the pieces from Kierion, swallowing. “Thanks for finding it.”
“Wow, look at that handle. Is that Ezaara on Zaarusha? “
Roberto nodded.
“Who made it?”
“I did, when she first hurt herself.” Roberto coughed. “To show respect for the Queen’s Rider.” Warmth crept up his neck. Kierion was bright, but hopefully he wouldn’t notice.
“Shards! What a way to frost Ezaara. Someone wants to delay her recovery, I’m guessing.”
Too bright—he’d hit the nail on the head—but at least Kierion was gazing at the cane, not his face.
“That’s only speculation,” Roberto replied. “It was probably a prank.” He attempted a laugh. “You know all about those.”
Kierion turned beet red.
§
Roberto cornered Simeon
