Rosaliy

Although Rosaliy was worried Drake was going to do something to get himself killed or caught, by all rights, she had proved to be far more likely to do both things. Up to this point, Rosaliy would have described herself as stable and responsible. She was always the one organizing events, wrangling spirited girls, mopping up messes, and talking Issabeth down from possibly fatal training exercises. But, no, on this trip, Drake had been the responsible one.

Well, as soon as she could find what she needed here, she could join Drake and Zaphia at the prison and free the people who knew what they were doing. So what did she need here?

Rosaliy executed a brief search of the room she had landed in. The search involved turning around once. This square stone space was occupied by a round pedestal with a cloud of fog rolling over the sides, a chair artfully woven from palm leaves, and a cloth satchel draped over the chair. A tiny green light shone in the middle of the fog pedestal. That must have been representing her. She shuddered to think how her arrival on Flifary Island might have gone had Zaphia not been the one looking for her, not that it had gone all that well without the Flifary looking for her, assuming they were not waiting in the hallway with a big net right now. She chose to assume they were not.

Hanging in the middle of the room was a round, metal lantern of sorts, but remnants of chilly, white smoke drifted from slits in the ball. Flint and a striking stone sat on a tiny shelf next to the door. In the corner was a basket of the blue fruit Zaphia had used to attack the octopus. Rosaliy marveled over a fruit that froze when heated.

As quick at that, her search was complete. Nothing Dalor had used to cast this tracking spell was here. Zaphia had insisted his workroom was in this hallway—the hallway not currently filled with Flifary guards waiting to pounce on her.

Rosaliy had not had a moment to stop and think for days. Alexander liked to say one good plan was worth a hundred fruitless actions. Up to now, she had the fruitless action part covered, although, in her defense, some of her actions had fruit. She was here, after all. She forced herself to stop to think even though every part of her body screamed at her to find what she could and get out of here. First, according to Zaphia, Iketa and Dalor were new magic users—powerful, erratic, and not able to think on their feet. If Rosaliy could get access to her own magic arsenal, or, more accurately, theirs, she had a chance. Second, as powerful as they were, the Flifary were scrambling. Arlana and Daniella had thrown all their plans into chaos. If she could just hit them with something they did not expect and had no defenses against, she could stop them without being more powerful than they were. She had fooled them with a handkerchief before, after all.

Until they found the divination stone, she had a chance. After that, well… A prickly chill of urgency danced up her spine. The only option was to find the stone first. Arlana had hidden the powerful stone. Daniella had sent Rosaliy to protect it. No one would be able to look for the children until the magic it contained was safe. A goal to find the stone was orderly and manageable. If only she knew where to look.

A dark object flew in at her from the window. Instinctively, she dove to the ground, barely stifling a cry of alarm. Something pounced on her and yanked on her hair.

Rosaliy raised her eyes. Tiny, blinking monkey eyes looked back at her.

“Oh, Quita,” Rosaliy hissed in annoyance, “not now. I don’t have anything for you.”

Quita chattered away while Rosaliy picked herself up.

“Shh,” urged Rosaliy, scooping up the tiny monkey. Quita responded to the shushing with more chirps and little screeches. This was no good. “I’ll get you out of here at soon as I can,” Rosaliy promised, “but you have to be quiet.”

“Eep,” disagreed Quita.

The only object in reach was the satchel draped over the chair. Rosaliy investigated the contents—a scarf, a narrow bottle filled with water, and a pile of feathers. Rosaliy assumed the bag was one of Zaphia’s. Rosaliy deposited Quita inside the bag. The tiny monkey made a mess of the feathers, twisted herself up in the scarf like a nest, and accepted her temporary habitat.

Rosaliy went for the open doorway to see if anyone had heard her arrival and subsequent attack by a monkey. The hallway was enclosed and dim, only lit by filtered sunlight from vine-covered skylights and open rooms. There was an odd eeriness to the quiet in the middle of the day. She kept having to remind herself the island was not abandoned, just asleep.

Her heart pounded as she braved a slow step into the hallway. She expected to hear the holler of a hidden guard or the blare of a magical alarm, but no such sounds accompanied the step of her bare foot. Three uneventful steps into the hallway, she located the only doorway with a door. A metal chain looped between a door fashioned from vines and a hole driven through the arched stone doorway. The chain was fixed in place by a lock. Rosaliy examined it silently. The lock needed a key. Or Drake. She had neither. Rosaliy gave one try at channeling the magic of the island into breaking a lock, but the magic of the island was Flifary, not Naxtura. It gave her no power. She could sense some usable magic behind the vine door. Magic she could use to open the lock was behind the locked door. This was a quandary.

She gingerly removed and set down the satchel. It did not yell at her, so Quita must still have been sleeping.

She stared at the door.

She could toss flaming, freezing fruit at the door and break off pieces, but that idea seemed ill-thought out in every way. Maybe it would be best to leave now, meet up with Drake, and free the prisoners. But with what? She was so close to having enchanted objects and magical supplies in her hands. The hallways were dead. True, she was currently on the losing end of the battle between her and doors, but this could be her door redemption. She needed to take the time to search the rest of the hallway.

She approached the next door and heard a breathy sigh that nearly prompted a scream. She bit her hand instead, the scream rushing straight to her heart which nearly beat itself out of her chest and halfway across the jungle. No wonder Dalor’s laboratory was unguarded. He was sleeping right next to it.