Davvie came to a halt beside him, both hands crossed over his mouth in horror.
‘Let him go,’ Mercor said wearily. There was no force behind his words but they carried to every ear. ‘He takes the risk that each of us must chance, sooner or later. To stay here is to die slowly. Perhaps a swift drowning in cold water is a better choice.’ The gold dragon’s black eyes swirled as he watched Sestican’s ponderous flight.
The wind whispered across the meadow, scattering rain as it came. Tats squinted, grateful for the wetness on his cheeks.
‘But perhaps not!’ Mercor trumpeted abruptly. He reared onto his hind legs as he turned his gaze far downriver to stare at the opposite shore. Several of the other dragons mimicked him. Harrikin shot suddenly to his feet as Spit exclaimed, ‘He’s out! Ranculos crossed the river!’
Tats strained his eyes but could see nothing. The rain had become a grey haze, and the area the dragons observed was a warren of Elderling buildings crumbling into the water. But then Harrikin exclaimed, ‘He is! He’s out of the river. Bruised and battered, but he’s alive. Ranculos is alive in Kelsingra!’
Harrikin suddenly seemed to notice Sylve. He swept her into his arms and spun with her in a giddy circle, crying, ‘He’s safe! He’s safe! He’s safe!’ Sylve joined her laughter to his joyous cries. Then, abruptly, they stopped. ‘Sestican?’ Harrikin cried. ‘Lecter! Lecter!’ He and Sylve set off at a run toward Lecter.
Lecter’s blue dragon had neared the far shore. He arched his body, bending his head and shorter front legs down toward his suddenly dangling back feet, touched the ground with all four feet, wings wide, and for one instant, his landing was graceful. Then his speed betrayed him, and he tumbled in a somersault, wings still open. A mixed chorus of cheers, groans and a few hoots of laughter met his clumsy landing. But Lecter gave a wild shout of joy and leapt into the air. He spun, froggy grin wide to confront those who had laughed, demanding, ‘And can your dragons do better?’ He spotted Davvie and caught his lover in a crushing hug.
A moment later, his foster-brother and Sylve had engulfed them both in a wild embrace. Then, to Tat’s astonishment, Harrikin plucked Sylve free, spun her once and then, as he landed her, kissed her deeply. The gathering keepers were shouting joyously as they converged on them.
‘It all changes,’ Alise murmured quietly. She watched them embrace, saw them caught up in the mob of their friends, and then turned back to Tats. ‘That’s five now. Five dragons in Kelsingra.’