Tab smiled to herself. She had been running around Quentaris all day, and if there had been a giant monster wielding six axes she would have seen it, or heard someone talking about it. On the other hand, a man slightly taller than Fontagu with one axe, whom had merely startled Fontagu into a faint, could move around Quentaris entirely unremarked upon.

Normally when Tab walked down the dim stone corridor to the throne room she could hear voices echoing off the cold walls inside the chamber, but today it was silent. She had almost decided that the throne room was empty. But when she inched the heavy, wooden door open, she saw the council sitting around the great table.

Standing to one side was a slender man whose name Tab didn't know, although he looked faintly familiar to her.

In the middle of the table was an oval object. At first Tab thought it was a hooey ball, but then her heart skipped in her chest. It looked just like Melprin's egg!

‘How in the name of the odd gods?’ Tab began. Then she realised where she had seen the slender man before. He was the roofie with the lute she had heard singing to his friends as she rushed up the stairs to Melprin's tower. He must have heard Melprin crashing through the wall of the tower. He would have been underneath them when they were flying. He must have caught the egg when it fell from Tab's arms.

On the table Melprin's egg quivered and then was still. There was a definite smell coming from it – a hot, acrid, sulphurous smell.

‘How long did you say it's been doing that for?’ Chief Navigator Stelka asked, gripping the edge of the table.

The roofie bit his lip. ‘Just after we emerged from the vortex, I think. I was a little bit distracted before that, with the fighting and everything.’

The egg cracked a little – a hairline, right across the top, and the members of the council pushed their chairs back from the table.

‘And the city dragonkeeper is… ’ Bellgard began.

‘I… I thought it was purely a ceremonial role,’ Florian stuttered.

‘You're the city's dragonkeeper?’ Storm asked.

‘No. Well… I hold the amulet of the dragonkeeper, but you can have it back. I don't think anyone expected me to take care of a real one!’

‘Does anybody have any idea what a baby dragon eats?’ Verris asked, looking around the table.

‘Limbs would be my guess.’ Tash Morley laughed, but it was a shrill, panicky sound.

The egg cracked a little more and a hot, metallic odour emerged from it in a steamy waft. It smelled like the smithy's furnace. The council members pushed their chairs back a little more.

‘I suppose I could convince Vrod to give up his store of spoiled boingy deer meat,’ Verris mused aloud. ‘Can your magicians contain it? Mesmerise it somehow?’

Stelka shook her head. ‘I don't know. Perhaps for a short while. You must understand that we have focused all our efforts on navigation. Many of the other crafts have been overlooked. There would be something in the ancient texts, surely, but it would take time.’

‘I vote we throw it over the edge,’ Florian said. ‘Now!’

‘How do you abandon something that has wings and a strong sense of smell?’ Storm asked him. ‘It will come after us!’

‘Then lock it in the dungeon!’ Tash Morley implored. The egg rolled on its side towards him, trailing smoke. He shrieked and drew back.

‘For how long? It's a dragon! Who knows what it can do? You want an orphaned, angry dragon soaring around Quentaris?’ Florian asked, edging further backwards.

‘Then what would you have us do?’ Stelka snapped. ‘I have no idea how long these things take to mature. Do you? It might hatch fully fledged. It could be a tantrum-throwing toddler for fifty years – maybe a hundred! We could be plagued by this thing for generations.’

Around the table, members of the council nodded solemnly.

‘Maybe Tab should take it,’ Florian suggested. ‘She's supposed to be able to talk to it, isn't she?’

Verris said, ‘The dragon needs a parent. We have no choice. We go back.’ His eyes settled on Tab's face for a second and he winked. ‘The first person to disagree can take this egg home with them.’ He fixed the council with a stony glare. None challenged him. Their eyes were glued to the egg.

Tab was in the dungeon when they crossed the vortex the second time. For a while she slept, and then she had been staring at the egg, watching it quiver and roll across the floor, trailing a waft of pungent smoke like a church incense burner. She had tried covering it with a dirty, old blanket she found, but the fabric began to smoulder, and filled the cell with acrid smoke, so she took it off again. She was afraid of what would happen when the egg finally opened, but for the time being, at least she could warm her hands by it.

Soon the dungeon bars started to vibrate and the ground shuddered. She clung to the metal shafts in the doorway, imagining the whole city collapsing on top of her, crushing her into shredded meat.

Low cries and grunts came from nearby cells as the turbulence tossed the other prisoners around in their cells. The egg rolled toward her and Tab held it steady with one hand, ignoring the burning sensation. It was preferable to having the egg smash against the wall, releasing a disoriented, frightened baby dragon in a small space.

After a while the trembling stopped. Tab let go of the egg, leaned her back against the bars and waited. Other prisoners called out to each other. From their conversation Tab guessed they must have been the sky-traders that Storm and her City Watch had rounded up after the previous vortex-jump.

Tab took out her Loraskian mood stone and turned it over in her hand. It seemed cloudier than it had been before, but it could have been the light.

Soon she heard footsteps coming down the stairs – too light and quick to be the prison guards, and too soon to be conquering sky-traders. She dared hope it was her friends and was delighted when they called out to her.

‘I can't believe it's you!’ Tab thrust her hands through the bars and Philmon and Amelia grabbed one each.

‘You must be starving! We brought you some bread and cheese.’ Amelia pushed a muslin-wrapped package between the bars.

Tab rocked back on her heels and loosened the cloth quickly, tearing great chunks of bread. She took the canteen from Philmon's outstretched hand and poured the water into her mouth.

Amelia and Philmon told her about their adventures fighting with the sky-traders, how Amelia had protected the Archon's Palace, holding the wall in place with her skills in levitation when the fortifications were almost breached, about their trip back through the vortex, and about what awaited them on the other side – not one, but two sky-cities!

‘Tolrush?’ Tab asked, wide-eyed. Quentaris had left her enemy city behind not long ago. As Verris had reminded her, it was only a matter of time before Tolrush found them.

‘No, it's a new city,’ Amelia answered. ‘It's huge.’

She told Tab about the enormous battle city bound by metal and studs. Of colossal, robed soldiers, with dome-shaped helmets easily seen with the naked eye, even from this distance, how they could hear the drums pounding, punctuating the soldiers’ training drills, and intricate ceremonies with coloured flares.

‘The sky-traders are sending up flares in answer, but we don't know what they mean. They are both just floating there at the moment, but there's a new battle in the air,’ Philmon added. ‘You can feel it.’

Tab took out her mood stone again, and her friends followed suit. The gems were definitely darker and cloudier than they had been, although it was hard to make out the colour in the dingy light.

‘Must be the Loraskians,’ Tab mused tucking her gem back into her pocket.