was an occasional windblown rooftop garden with bent shrubs.
Leech searched the skies for any sign of the dragon, eyes skipping over the gleaming nozzle-shaped column of the newly built Coit Tower on Telegraph Hill and the houses clinging to the hill’s side like rectangular beads on a cloak.
“He’s gone,” Leech said in frustration.
“No, he changed direction,” Scirye said, pointing eastward.
Leech had missed the green dot skimming over the hangar roof on a pier.
“Hold on,” Bayang said. Leaning forward until she was almost double, she banked the carpet.
As they plummeted downward at a steep angle, Leech crouched over, feeling the carpet’s straps cut into his ankles. His hands grasped what he could of the carpet just as the others were doing. From the corner of his eye, he saw that the pesky little griffin had slipped down from the girl’s shoulder so he could dig his talons into the rug, as well.
Hunched over, he noticed the holes that had appeared in the carpet, some big enough to watch the city passing beneath them.
How long will this thing hold together?
he wondered. But then he told himself to focus as Primo had constantly told him to do.
But as they whizzed over the long, dirty warehouses that squatted right by the edge of San Francisco Bay, Leech felt the exhilaration rush through him like a wind blowing away all his fears.
There’s nothing like flying, he thought to himself. The funny thing, though, is that this pleasure is so familiar—like I’ve flown a lot of times before and yet I know I never have
.
He couldn’t wait to tell Primo about his first flight, and the memory stabbed him like a knife. He couldn’t. His friend was gone. Once more, anger overcame sadness. He’d make the thief pay.
They soared toward piers and wharves jutting out from the sides of San Francisco like teeth; boats of all sizes were tethered to them by thick cables.
The area was buzzing with activity, as usual. Troll stevedores hefted huge stacks of crates down the gangplank of a tramp steamer while, sparks flying from his wand, a third-class wizard repaired a hull plate. The water frothed around a moored tugboat as water elementals cleaned off the rust and barnacles.
Farther out on the harbor, a merman shouted instructions to aslick, broad-backed leviathan, nudging a red and black merchant ship toward a wharf while ferries churned back and forth, leaving huge white wakes behind them. A Navy destroyer glided underneath the recently opened Bay Bridge that connected San Francisco to Oakland. The cars and trolleys on its two decks looked like toys. Sailboats slid through the white caps, their triangular sails gleaming in the sunlight, accompanied by flocks of hired air sprites.
Against the greenish water, though, it was hard to see Badik until he made the mistake of going too low. When the water heaved up, his passage left a telltale white streak on the surface.
“He’s making a beeline for that boat,” Koko guessed.
About a hundred yards ahead of Badik was a large yacht with an immaculately white, angled hull and polished mahogany cabin and decks.
“What would a dragon need with a boat?” Leech wondered.
“Why indeed?” Bayang asked. “But he’s definitely aiming for it so let’s find out, shall we?”
She sent the tattered carpet into another steep dive, leveling off as low as she dared as she tried to avoid being seen by the yacht’s crew. Near the surface, the air was misty with spray and tangy with salt, and she just hoped there would be no sudden high billows that could knock them from the air.
As they watched, Badik plunged into the water, white foam splashing from the spot. Then a blurred form continued beneath the water underneath the yacht.
Koko scratched his head. “What’s he up to now?”
Bayang saw two sailors in crisp white uniforms standing on the deck. “There’s a ladder on the other side. I bet that’s where he’s going.”
Even as she said it, the pink form of a man
Leech searched the skies for any sign of the dragon, eyes skipping over the gleaming nozzle-shaped column of the newly built Coit Tower on Telegraph Hill and the houses clinging to the hill’s side like rectangular beads on a cloak.
“He’s gone,” Leech said in frustration.
“No, he changed direction,” Scirye said, pointing eastward.
Leech had missed the green dot skimming over the hangar roof on a pier.
“Hold on,” Bayang said. Leaning forward until she was almost double, she banked the carpet.
As they plummeted downward at a steep angle, Leech crouched over, feeling the carpet’s straps cut into his ankles. His hands grasped what he could of the carpet just as the others were doing. From the corner of his eye, he saw that the pesky little griffin had slipped down from the girl’s shoulder so he could dig his talons into the rug, as well.
Hunched over, he noticed the holes that had appeared in the carpet, some big enough to watch the city passing beneath them.
How long will this thing hold together?
he wondered. But then he told himself to focus as Primo had constantly told him to do.
But as they whizzed over the long, dirty warehouses that squatted right by the edge of San Francisco Bay, Leech felt the exhilaration rush through him like a wind blowing away all his fears.
There’s nothing like flying, he thought to himself. The funny thing, though, is that this pleasure is so familiar—like I’ve flown a lot of times before and yet I know I never have
.
He couldn’t wait to tell Primo about his first flight, and the memory stabbed him like a knife. He couldn’t. His friend was gone. Once more, anger overcame sadness. He’d make the thief pay.
They soared toward piers and wharves jutting out from the sides of San Francisco like teeth; boats of all sizes were tethered to them by thick cables.
The area was buzzing with activity, as usual. Troll stevedores hefted huge stacks of crates down the gangplank of a tramp steamer while, sparks flying from his wand, a third-class wizard repaired a hull plate. The water frothed around a moored tugboat as water elementals cleaned off the rust and barnacles.
Farther out on the harbor, a merman shouted instructions to aslick, broad-backed leviathan, nudging a red and black merchant ship toward a wharf while ferries churned back and forth, leaving huge white wakes behind them. A Navy destroyer glided underneath the recently opened Bay Bridge that connected San Francisco to Oakland. The cars and trolleys on its two decks looked like toys. Sailboats slid through the white caps, their triangular sails gleaming in the sunlight, accompanied by flocks of hired air sprites.
Against the greenish water, though, it was hard to see Badik until he made the mistake of going too low. When the water heaved up, his passage left a telltale white streak on the surface.
“He’s making a beeline for that boat,” Koko guessed.
About a hundred yards ahead of Badik was a large yacht with an immaculately white, angled hull and polished mahogany cabin and decks.
“What would a dragon need with a boat?” Leech wondered.
“Why indeed?” Bayang asked. “But he’s definitely aiming for it so let’s find out, shall we?”
She sent the tattered carpet into another steep dive, leveling off as low as she dared as she tried to avoid being seen by the yacht’s crew. Near the surface, the air was misty with spray and tangy with salt, and she just hoped there would be no sudden high billows that could knock them from the air.
As they watched, Badik plunged into the water, white foam splashing from the spot. Then a blurred form continued beneath the water underneath the yacht.
Koko scratched his head. “What’s he up to now?”
Bayang saw two sailors in crisp white uniforms standing on the deck. “There’s a ladder on the other side. I bet that’s where he’s going.”
Even as she said it, the pink form of a man
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