Oracle (Book I)

The Dragon's Roost

"This tower is the Dragon's Roost," Bossa explained. "Every room here has about four people. Any more than that and it gets kinda crowded, but some students like it like that though. Each hall full of rooms has a name. Our's is called Kinshara's Garden. It's name is a story...something about a golden flower and dragons coveting gold— Yeeeeah, you can ask Nezzle when she comes back."

One of the doorways in the room didn't lead to a part of the dormitory at all. It opened to a walkway along the tower beneath the dark sacred night where thousands of stars twinkled above them. Caprice and Thierry peered up the short flight of stairs into that comforting sight with new eyes.

Bossa glanced between the two of them. "Go on out. You two haven't had the chance to talk. I'll be upstairs, Caprice," she said. By way of saying goodnight to him, she added, "Thierry."

"Bossa," Thierry said.

Stepping outside was like standing in the observatorium again except Caprice could feel the airy openness of the sky all around her and also their mortal distance from it.

Caprice stood beside her brother who was staring out into the night again as Bossa left.

Her brother had their mother's eyes and their father's face with an elegant curve of jaw that belonged to neither of them. Caprice had always teased that he was handsome, sure, with his strong arms and corded shoulders, but there was something a little pretty about that face. At which point Thierry would launch a twig or whatever was handy in her direction.

"You're friendly," Caprice teased, nudging into him.

"We never get to talk to each other like this at home."

Before today, Thierry was the perfect model of subservient silence. Eyes ahead. Posture unassuming and non-threatening. Their mother had always bade her to follow his example in the presence of the Whitehares. Mama also told us that we weren't made to be slaves. She kept on that before we laid eyes on folks like the Whitehares...we weren't. I don't think I ever believed her... There was always this doubt in at the back of my head....

Until now.

"This is a dream, isn't it? We'll wake up and be in the slabs in the morning. Won't we, Preece?" Thierry said quietly.

The smile on her face felt frail, brittle.

"It feels real. Seeing Professor Earithean and Bossa speak so boldly to the Whitehares—like equals—it was terrifying. Too terrifying to be a dream."

"But it felt...good. To hear them be spoken to so plainly. By kin."

"I don't know."

"Come on. I know you thought it too. I know you felt—"

"I felt scared, brother. Scared for us. Scared for our family. Professor Earithean told them that we're free. She said we can come and go as we please. Is it really...safe for us to listen to them? We'll be in trouble once we get back to the village."

"It's not our fault we wound up here—"

"They'll blame us anyway."

"—and if this is real, I'm not going back."

The words shocked Caprice. Freedom—granted, just like that? How could that be? Not even magic had ever worked that way for them as far as Caprice could see. Thierry's declaration sent her heart into a panicked frenzy.

When her brother had asked Earithean about the rules of the school, Caprice had known then that he had made up his mind to stay here. She didn't want to see through the turmoil roiling inside of her only to find that she was thinking the exact same thing. Her fear was the only thing keeping her from it.

"Brother?"

"Yea."

"I'm still scared."

"Me, too," he said, drawing a shaky breath. "But... Even if its a dream, its a nice one, i'n't it, sis?" Thierry raised his arms over his head and stretched with a groan and shook himself. "There's nothing for it. Might as well get a good night's rest in a bed for once. I'm betting the beds here are nice."

She smiled and it felt sad and happy and scared all at the same time. "Yea, Thierry. It's real nice." Caprice took a deep breath and looked out into the starry dark and brightly shining gibbous moon. "They will come after us. Even if we decide to stay."

"Maybe. Tonight, I don't care."

Liar. Like Caprice, the knowledge from his long, young life treated as the Whitehares' property lurked in his brown eyes, saying otherwise.

They stood alone in the gentle quiet for some time, but wasn't quiet for long. Voices and the sounds of people moving were coming from the lounge below. Caprice soon inched back inside with Thierry and they hovered in the doorway of the walk. She wondered where Bossa was and looked around the busy room until someone approached them.

"Hey there. You must be new." It was one of the boys from the table that had cheered and clapped as they had entered the Grand Hall with the teachers earlier. He was shirtless beneath his school robes and wore no shoes at the hem of his loose linen breeches.

"I'm Ripley of the Wolves."

"Thierry Bilberry." Ripley's gaze wandered over to Caprice and Thierry stepped in front of her, blocking her from his sight.

Ripley cocked his head and grinned.

"Let me guess: Your sister."

"That's right."

"Caprice Bilberry," she waved over Thierry's shoulder. Frowning at the back of her brother standing between her and this new acquaintance, she flicked her finger at his head. A small pebble from the stair jumped up and pelted him.

"Ow!"

"Witches," Ripley nodded approvingly. "Nice."

"How did you know?" Thierry frowned.

"Sharp nose," he tapped the spot. "Magic has a scent. I'm a skin changer, by the way." Ripley pointed up the stairs on the other side of the tower walk entrance from Kinshara's Garden where Bossa was undoubtedly waiting. "This is the Den of Fangs. One of the boys' dormitories. Chock full of lycans but you'll be fine. Want to join us? We do a little brewing as part of our Basics lessons. Might be nice to have a wizard around to scoff at our terrible potions work."

Caprice watched Thierry's back straighten at the word wizard, knowing for a fact that he'd never been called that before.

"Yea," Thierry nodded eagerly.

"Only if you haven't picked a place to stay yet."

"Not at all. I'll come along."

Caprice didn't know the word lycan but she knew what a skin-changer was.

She grabbed Thierry's sleeve. Tugging him down, she said in his ear, "'Of the Wolves' means he is one."

"Ridiculously good hearing as well," Ripley chuckled. He took Thierry's other sleeve and tugged him away. "Don't worry. Your brother will be breathing and in one piece in the morning. Miss Caprice, goodnight."

Thierry grabbed and squeezed her hand briefly then let go.

"Thierry!" Mother will never forgive me if I just let him go to sleep in a den packed full of werewolves and the Ancestors only know what else!

Thierry glanced back and shrugged. "I just want to go to bed. I would wager the beds are nice, yeah. At least if my new companions maul and eat me I'll be avenged by detention."

"Don't jest," she called after him as he followed Ripley up the stairs into the Den of Fangs.