Skylar hurried down the dock, her heavy backpack thudding against her back. Almost there. No one had recognized her yet; no mean feat for an honors student from the Airship Academy. Of course, she didn't wear her uniform on a mission like this.

There. By a stack of crates, a z-shaped crack in the deck announced the presence of the promised smuggler's bridge. Skylar fumbled with a tool, ducked down as if to retrieve it, and used the position to grab the side of the dock and swing under it.

A smuggler's bridge was a series of handholds on the underside of a dock. While not exactly illegal, they were frowned upon and usually removed if discovered. The main Zeldarian port was full of them, and the dockworkers, most of whom were sympathetic to the less-observed antics of their fellow citizens, pretended the bridges didn't exist.

Besides, Skylar thought as she swung across the first few handholds, getting rid of one of these would be a pain. The docks weren't suspended over forgiving water, but rather over thin air. This was the huge Zeldarian Skyport, the take-off and landing point for the airships that transported food, goods, and people between the floating islands. The vessel Skylar was headed for was a traditional two-masted windrunner. The ship was made of dark wood and outfitted with two hoverstones and four wings. The bottom of its gangplank was fitted with handholds. Skylar made it across the smuggler's bridge, climbed hand over hand up the gangplank, and swung herself awkwardly into a porthole on the ship's side.

“Morning, Zeldarian,” said a chipper voice. The words came from a tall, lean air captain, his face scoured by the wind.

“Morning, Captain Ross,” Skylar replied. “Your delivery, as promised.” She pulled the backpack from her shoulders, several airmen descending on it with enthusiasm as it hit the floor. Heavy silence reigned while the crew unloaded the contents. Zeldaria was famous for its craftsmen, cooks, and airmen, as well as for its drink. Smugglers would pay a hefty fee for good beer.

“What got you into the Trade?” Ross asked Skylar, to ease the quiet. The Trade was what smugglers called their organization.

“I respect the local government,” Skylar replied guardedly. “But I don't respect the king.”

Ross nodded in agreement. The king of the sky islands had been lax in his duties for as long as the country could remember. Many worked to undermine the unjust rules, and Skylar did her part as an errand runner for characters aiming to help others at the expense of the law. As a result, Captain Ross had asked her to get shipments of beer past the dock officials unseen. The alcohol, Ross had explained, was a gift to soldiers in Giertek so they wouldn't abandon their posts.

“It's all accounted for, Captain,” called a crewman.

“Nice work, Zeldarian,” Captain Ross said, handing Skylar a drawstring bag. He waited patiently while Skylar counted it. He didn't take offense; it was how things were done when dealing with lawbreakers.

Skylar came up with a satisfactory twenty-five lodes. The bag disappeared into her pocket. “You're welcome, Captain.” She snapped the protective pocket-lid closed, retrieved her now-empty backpack, and headed for the porthole.

“Good luck, Zeldarian,” Ross called after her. Unlike him, Skylar never divulged her name.

Skylar nodded. “You too.” She ducked out of the porthole and swung across the gangplank.

She crossed the smuggler's bridge easily, clambered up behind the stack of crates, and crossed the dock without being noticed. About halfway down Port Street, she suddenly heard a commotion behind her and turned.

A gigantic ship was pulling into the luxury end of the dock. Six-masted, eight-winged, made of sturdy highland oak, it pulled forward majestically into port. The sails were emblazoned with the golden griffin: this was a royal barge.

For a moment, Skylar wondered why it was there. Royal barges rarely came to Zeldaria. Then it hit her: the search was on for the missing princess. The younger of the king’s two children had run off upon reaching her tenth birthday two weeks ago. No one had heard from her since. This barge must have arrived with an effort to locate her, despite the fact that there had been no leads pointion to Zeldaria. Skylar couldn't imagine what had made the young princess run off, leaving only a note; unless the note was forged and it was a kidnapping.

The heir to the throne, Princess Khailia, was said to be the complete opposite of her father and sister. Benevolent, wise, and mature for her seventeen years, she was the kingdom's hope for a competent ruler. Skylar craned her neck to read the barge's name: the Falcon's Eye. Khailia's ship. Skylar wondered if the princess was on board.

Crewmen started leaping off the barge, wielding ropes that would tie it to the dock. The sight made Skylar think of her own airship goals. She turned away and started up the path to home.

Skylar’s family’s house was located on a small island, part of a set of undersized islands off the edge of Zeldaria’s main island. The landmasses of Zeldaria varied in size– a central island surrounded by a few mid-sized ones, with smaller ones among them. Skylar opened the door. Her parents were gone on an airship mission abroad, but she could hear her sister knocking around inside. Raine was two years older than Skylar, but they shared the same dark hair, height, and practical, if somewhat reckless, temperament. The similarities stalled after their personalities: where Skylar had stone-grey eyes and a lean, sun-punished build, Raine took after the blue eyes and slender frame of the girls’ mother. “Skylar? Is that you?” Raine asked as Skylar stepped into the house.

“Um, yes. Who else?”

Raine emerged from her room. “Moonstone was making an absolute racket earlier,” she explained. “I thought she might have knocked something over.”

Skylar grinned wickedly and looked around for the pale cat. Moonstone belonged to Raine. The cat was long-furred, white, and plump, and she and Skylar didn't get along. Skylar was quite sure that Moonstone could understand everything she said, and the fluffy nuisance tormented Skylar with every chance she got.

“Have you investigated?” Skylar asked innocently, hanging up her cloak.

“I tried, but I found nothing.”

“Did you try the food dish?” suggested Skylar, ignoring the cat. “Two lodes says there's something in her milk-and-tuna buffet.”

Raine scowled and stomped off to the food dish. Skylar smirked at Moonstone, who glared back bad-temperedly.

“That tuna was three days old, you picky furball. I would have eaten it.” Moonstone liked her tuna fresh-caught, even if the fish was kept cold.

“Rowr,” Moonstone grumbled in response. Skylar laughed, wandered back outside, and headed across the small wooden bridge that connected the main house to a tiny side-island, on which a little warehouse was perched. Skylar had made the warehouse her own. Inside was a small table, several bookshelves, and a chest, all of which were overflowing with her various aeronautical projects. Her own custom model of her fantasy airship was scattered, half-built, all over the table. Other pieces lined the shelves, including objects from Gramyre, Centrae, and even the Vortex – though those were fake. Most of the artifacts were sky related.

Skylar pulled out the drawstring bag from Captain Ross and opened a drawer she'd camouflaged into the desk. Both were full of lodes, the Zeldarian coin. Ross's mission had been particularly lucrative. She was saving to buy out of being drafted into the king's airfleet. She wanted to be a free agent, a captain of her very own ship.

The drawstring bag went into the drawer with the other coins. As she stood up, she heard a knock on the door of the main house. Skylar exited the warehouse and crossed the bridge, curious.

It was Ralff, a dockworker who had a deep crush on Raine. Raine had answered the door. “Hi, Ralff.”

“Um. Hi, Raine. Listen, I just wanted to tell you that a royal barge pulled up at the dock.” Skylar shook her head in the background. Ralff had it bad. “Princess Khailia's disembarking and I wondered if… if you wanted to watch. Half the town is there!”

“Skylar!” Raine bellowed. “Why didn’t you tell me there’s a royal barge at the dock!” To Ralff she said, “Sure, lead the way,” as if nothing had happened.

“Great!” Ralff exclaimed, going pink.

“One second,” Raine added. “Skylar!”

Skylar grinned. “I heard you!”

“There's a–” Raine started.

“Saw it,” Skylar said. “I was going to tell you after I added that part to my project. Your ridiculous cat delayed me, is all.”

“Moonstone is not a ridiculous cat.”

“Impudent, then.”

“She is not–”

“Spoiled? Irritating? The bane of my existence?”

“Skylar–” Raine scolded, but she smiled against her will. She knew how much Skylar and Moonstone hated each other.

“Come on, Ralff,” Raine said, giving up. The lovestruck boy had been standing awkwardly by the path, looking confused. His face turned to one of relief when Raine took his hand and started toward the town.

Skylar took a detour back to the house to retrieve her sword, then followed them from a distance. Publicly carrying a blade was a typical practice in the skyport city, courtesy of the lax guards.

Ahead, a great parade was passing through the streets. Skylar pushed to the front to see it better. A dozen guards surrounded an open carriage, inside of which sat a female figure. Skylar guessed that it was Khailia.

The crowds migrated along with the procession. Skylar followed, pushing, twisting, and shoving her way to the front. The princess called something to the guards, who removed a chest from the back of the carriage. They opened it, reached inside, and pulled out food of all shapes and sizes, distributing it to the crowd.

Skylar snorted, amused. She understood that this would be well-recieved in many of the poorer cities, but the skyport was well off. Still, many stepped forward to take their own gift from the princess, forcing the guards to spread out.

Something caught Skylar's eye, a flash of reflected light, like someone was moving metal or glass. She looked up.

Hidden in a tree, concealed by the branches, a figure dressed in black had drawn a blade. Skylar froze, then dropped her gaze. She subtly looked up again. The figure – male, tense as a rock – aimed the knife, sighting down the handle. Toward the carriage.

Skylar leaped. The blade flew.

Drawing on all her knowledge, Skylar drew her own sword, slashing the knife out of the air. A loud oath could be heard from within the tree, and the knife thrower dropped from the branches, landed in a crouch, and was up and running. Skylar retrieved the knife, but it was too late.

Then someone hit her on the head, and blackness descended.

 

Skylar awoke, blinking at the rays of blinding sunlight that shone through a series of windows. She was lying on a cot in a long wooden building – the skyport infirmary. Identical beds lined the walls to either side.

Something small and sharp poked her in the ear. “Ow!” Skylar complained, batting at the side of her head. Squealing, a little green shape zipped through the air, landing with an indignant yelp on a bedside cabinet. It was small, bright green, and scaly. Its bat wings fluttered softly, and it stared at her with reproachful amber eyes.

A dragon.

Dragons were extremely rare. Once upon a time the country had been inhabited by huge, scaly, flame-breathing firedrakes. Now all that remained were their smaller, more gentle cousins. These dragons were about the size of a day-old kitten, and were kept as pets by the rich and the lucky.

“Sorry!” Skylar said to the dragon, unsure why she was apologizing to it, but feeling that an apology was necessary. “I didn't realize you were there. Here.” She dug around in her pocket for a moment until she found a piece of tuna wrapped up in fabric. Until now, its destiny had been to tantalize Moonstone, but Skylar offered it to the dragon. “Will this make it better?”

The dragon sniffed it, took a tentative bite, and then happily devoured it. The beast's expression said, Yes, I forgive you. Skylar picked it up and watched in facination as it rubbed its tiny head against her fingers.

The door opened, causing both Skylar and the dragon to jump. “He's cute, isn't he?” Princess Khailia commented. Coming like a faerie through the door, she was surrounded by four guards. “My apologies for knocking you out. The guard believed it was necessary.”

“It's fine, Your Highness. May I ask how long I've been out?”

“Only fifteen minutes.”

“Where's Raine?”

Khailia looked puzzled. “That girl who followed us here, Your Highness,” one of the guards murmured. “Her name was Raine.”

Khailia's confusion cleared. “Oh. She was waiting for you outside, but the boy with her convinced her to leave. She said your name was Skylar?” Skylar nodded.

The princess clicked her tongue, and the dragon on Skylar's lap squeaked and shook his head in reply. “I was hoping to give you a reward, for saving my life,” the princess said to Skylar.

“That's really not necessary, Your Highness–”

“I was wondering,” Khailia interrupted, “if you would accept Sparks here. My sister's dragon.”

Skylar struggled to hide her surprise. “Your Highness, I could never take something of Princess Asira’s. Your sister will be found, I'm sure of it.”

“Nonsense.” Khailia signaled the guards with her hand, and they backed up into the shadows. She lowered her voice. “I do not wish to speak ill of Asira, but Sparks was never happy in her company. She's so young, and Sparks was – is – more of a toy to her than a pet. Plus, I've never seen him take to anyone the way he’s been watching over you. He likes you.”

Skylar hesitated. “But he belongs to your sister…”

“How about this,” Khailia suggested. “You're welcome to be on your way, now that you're awake. If the dragon would rather follow you than stay here, he's all yours.”

“Sounds good,” Skylar agreed. She stood up, swaying slightly as she did so. Her head still hadn't quite recovered. “By your leave, Your Highness.”

The princess nodded. Skylar stepped cautiously toward the door, slowly regaining her balance as she went. As she reached the door, she heard a quiet flutter from behind. Sparks had flown from Khailia's outstretched hand. He landed on Skylar's shoulder.

The princess grinned. “Thank you, Skylar. Good-bye, Sparks.”

Skylar looked back one more time. “Are you sure, Your Highness?”

“Sparks is,” Khailia replied, embellishing her comment with royal mystique. “He's yours now.”