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75. The Necessary Paperwork

"What is the meaning of this?!"

James stared back at the wall of silhouettes with an innocent expression. "Unfortunately, someone on campus seems to have overheard our previous call and tipped off the media."

He heard Pepon scoff. "You've clearly chosen your side. And if you think playing stupid will save you, James, you are sorely mistaken."

James hoped he was wrong—until Winter arrived with reinforcements, playing dumb was his first and best defense.

"I really don't know what you mean," he said blandly. "But this should be easy to fix. Of course, we'll have to be extra careful that we go through all the legal hoops before the inspection, but I'm sure you have most of the paperwork filled out already."

The tense, furious silence that followed told him that they definitely hadn't. There had been a vote, he was sure, and they had decided to use their considerable discretion to skip most of what the public might call due process. That was all well and good, from their perspective, so long word didn't get out.

James felt a vicious satisfaction. For once, he could be the the one to bury the Council under a wall of paperwork. He'd never imagined he'd wish triplicate on his worst enemy... but here he was.

Of course, as soon as someone thought to interview the students that had left the academy, the jig would be up. But at that point all he really needed to do was point at Beacon and say truthfully that he didn't trust Council Riders to take over his school without any sort of oversight. Not when they'd dropped live Dust on students.

Even when he was winning the war of public opinion, James still wished desperately for a nice, simple Grimm to fight instead.

The Council had no choice except to concede the point, and soon hung up on him. James left his office and found several of his students in the hall outside, including Flynt and Neon.

"We're not on watch today," Flynt said. "How can we help?"

"Keep the reporters entertained." James glanced out the window at where a news crew was filming several of the youngest dragons playing. "We can only count on them playing by the rules as long as eyes are on us, and eyes aren't going to stay on us if all anyone can talk about is paperwork."

"Aye-aye, general!" Neon gave him a shockingly crisp salute, and as he watched the group go he felt a slight twinge of sympathy for whatever poor soul ended up on the receiving end of all that enthusiasm.

The professors, he was more honest with. Three of the four of them had stayed with him—the fourth had been one of the Council's picks, so he was no real surprise. He set them and their dragons patrolling around the grounds, ready to deescalate anything that looked like it might break out into a fight. So far the enemy Riders were staying outside, which was good—but it wouldn't take long for them to get their hands on a warrant. All it would take was one hothead on either side...

James heaved a sigh as he shut himself back in his office. He'd been flipping through any official documents he could find, looking for loopholes he could bend to his advantage. Another job Winter would have been very good at—he was starting to worry he'd been too rash sending her away like that.

He collapsed in his chair and stared out the window into an endless, empty sky.

Ragnar gave his wings an experimental shake. Their membranes stretched uncomfortably, but not painfully—none of the tears flexed open. "Ssstitch," he told Oscar.

To his surprise, Whitley helped take them out. He knelt down beside Oscar, and the two of them worked slowly and carefully until all the stitches were gone. Glacier watched them with his head tilted to one side. "Why... string?" he asked, as Oscar tossed aside some of the thread he'd used.

"It holds the wound closed," Ragnar replied.

Glacier didn't seem to understand much better after he'd explained, but he watched curiously as the two boys worked. Tempest sat next to him, nudging one of the humans with her tail to get them to slow down whenever she caught Ragnar wincing.

It took a long time. Glacier's tail started to twitch back and forth, faster and faster, and he kept glancing northward. "Go soon?" he asked.

"Soon," Ragnar agreed. They were on the final cut. Oscar removed the last bit of stitching, tossed it away, dusted his hands together and grinned proudly.

"We fly now?"

"No!" Tempest said quickly, before Ragnar could answer.

He huffed at her. "I know, youngling."

She bowed her head in apology, though he heard her mutter, "I'm not a youngling," under her breath.

"Why not?" Glacier sniffed at one of his wings.

"If I reopen them by flying too soon, we'll have to stitch them up all over again. It will take much longer for them to heal."

Glacier snorted in frustration. "Slow!"

Tempest bristled. "It's not his fault they hurt his wings," she said sternly.

The ice dragon blinked at her, confused. "No," he agreed. "Still slow."

Ragnar sighed. He couldn't exactly blame Glacier for being impatient, not when he had half a mind to hurl himself into the air and let the cards fall where they may. "I could tell you where we're going," he said, "but I'm not sure what would happen when you got there. Whitley doesn't understand what's happening, so he couldn't explain any of it to James. He might—" Ragnar cut himself off before he could say, send you home, but Glacier seemed to understand him anyway. His ears went back and he let out a dangerous hiss.

Tempest shifted reluctantly from foot to foot. "I could go with you," she offered. "If I told James why we were there, I think he'd find somewhere to hide us."

Glacier whined and curled his tail around his feet. "Don't want to," he said stubbornly. "We walk. Together. Faster?"

Ragnar let out an amused chuff and butted his head against Oscar's side, to signal to him that it was time to go. Once the children were mounted up, they broke into a brisk trot. On foot, it was often Glacier's stamina that slowed them the most—he'd been getting steadily better since they'd met, but he still had a hard time running for any length of time.

As if he hasn't gotten regular exercise in years, Ragnar thought. He didn't growl, but it was a near thing. The longer he stayed with Glacier and Whitley, the uglier the picture he could piece together from their behavior. A few of the things he'd noticed might have been simple ignorance—someone who'd never gone to a dragonry might not know how important it was to encourage him to run and fly regularly to keep up his stamina. Others, like his loathing of needles or his habit of sniffing suspiciously at any food he didn't catch himself, were not.

But that was a problem for another time—and Ragnar doubted it would fall to him to address it. If nothing else, he'd be leaving Glacier in capable hands once they got to Atlas. Between Weiss and Specter, Winter and Steele, and Whitley himself, he would be well looked after.

As for the Council...

Ragnar's wings flexed again, testing themselves against the air. He longed to fly, to come rushing towards his rider's faceless killers... Oscar sensed his frustration, and ran a soothing hand over his scales. He let out a breath to calm himself. When he looked up, Tempest was giving him a very pointed look.

Younglings, he thought ruefully. Since when are they more patient than I am?

Jade waited for Cinder with a now-familiar feeling of mixed anticipation and dread. That wasn't so bad—it was much worse to see Emerald's fear and adoration. She couldn't talk to her rider about it, either. Anything that might be interpreted as an insult towards Cinder only upset her. She didn't have the heart to explain it all to Rudder, either.

That left Mercury. They'd started sharing looks, every time one of the new loyal riders said something unnerving, or Watts smiled much too widely. It wasn't what she wanted, but it did make her feel a little better.

Cinder swept into the cabin, Strike following closely behind her. "I have a job for you two," she said, without preamble. Jade's ears pricked up. They'd spent the past few days ferrying food and water to the clearing—it was mind-numbingly boring, and made even a dangerous break-in sound appealing by comparison. Besides, the SDC and the kingdoms never had any security that could scare her. It was Cinder that scared her, these days.

"Where are we going?" Emerald asked.

"Beacon. You will meet Tyrian there."

Jade's ears drooped all the way back down. Tyrian was... friendly, she supposed, in his own odd way, but the way he talked to Ozone made her uncomfortable. She'd much rather be with only Emerald, Rudder, and Mercury.

Mercury leaned against Rudder's shoulder and said, "What's the plan?"

Cinder shook her head dismissively. "Tyrian will fill you in when you arrive. He's taking an airship, so he'll get there before you do."

Jade felt a flicker of suspicion. Had Cinder glanced at Strike, before she said that? Or maybe she'd looked at Emerald...

They took off less than an hour later. It was getting dark, the sky lit up by scattered stars. Strangely peaceful, gliding as they were high above the forest, where the air was quiet except for the wind rushing past them. Jade's eyes slid shut.

If only it was always like this. Just her, Emerald, her brother, and his rider.

Jade shook the thought away. Emerald wanted to stay with Cinder, so that was what they were going to do. It wasn't as if she could kidnap her own rider and carry her off somewhere safe.

Even if sometimes she really wanted to.

When they landed for the night, Emerald fell asleep immediately. She'd been acting strange, lately—sometimes when she went to bed she would lay there for hours without sleeping. Jade often had to curl up around her and purr to calm her down enough to drift off. But not tonight.

She lay on her belly beside her rider, rumbling contentedly. Rudder sprawled on his back nearby. He was snoring, his tail twitching in his sleep. Only Mercury was still awake. Jade watched him through one half-lidded eye. He was staring off into the dark woods, his head tilted to one side, as if considering...

"Nno," she murmured. He jumped and turned to stare at her. She stared back.

Finally he sighed explosively and sat beside Rudder. "You're annoying, you know that?"

Jade huffed, pressed her nose into Emerald's side, and ignored him.

The minute Winter and Steele reached the outskirts of Vacuo, she made straight for the nearest warehouse she thought she could hide him in. There was one nearby that she thought would serve nicely—empty, rundown, with part of the roof missing... but there was an inner room that was much drier, and large enough for even a grown dragon to hide.

It was impossible to go entirely unnoticed. Not with several tons of dragon following behind her, moonlight glinting off his scales. Winter had to hope that, Vacuo being Vacuo, no one in this district at this time of night would be inclined to report her to anyone. At least, not in the time it would take to get her hands on an airship.

Even though she'd traded her military uniform for something more practical for the desert and covered her white hair with her hood, she still drew stares from the people around her. Probably the way she walked—shoulders back, chin up, crisp and self-assured. Too military. She forced herself to relax a little and managed to melt at least partly into the crowd.

Then she stopped dead in front of a hologram, so suddenly that she drew even more stares. Winter ignored them. She could see Atlas Academy on the screen, surrounded by several gigantic transports bearing the Council's symbol. But there was no battle—only students and Council Riders glaring at one another from across the lawn.

How...? But the answer was already right in front of her. They were on video.

She allowed herself a small smirk as she picked up her pace, making for the nearest airfield. Soon the streets were crowded despite the late hour, and she could see dozens of airships docked side by side in a large open space between buildings. Her eyes skimmed right over the largest of them— she could tell that none were meant to transport dragons, so a bigger ship would only mean more room for human passengers that they didn't have. Finally her eyes lit on a small cargo ship that struck her as oddly familiar.

Winter approached, circling the craft. There was a panel on the hull that looked newer than the others. She remembered flying on Steele's back as he latched on to the ship, his claws sinking into metal.

For once, it looked like their luck was turning.

It only took three steps to reach the top of the boarding ramp and rap smartly on the side of the ship. For a long moment nothing happened, and Winter began to worry that she'd have to wait here for him—then the cockpit door swung upward, and she was greeted by a familiar face.

"Look, kid, this is a cargo ship. I don't do transport. Unless you've got..."

Winter dropped her hood. The pilot paled and stumbled backwards into the ship. She stepped inside before he could close the door and folded her arms. Waiting.

"I didn't do anything!" he blurted. She couldn't see through his visor, but he twitched as if he'd just glanced towards the cargo bay.

Winter raised an eyebrow. "Of course," she drawled. "I'm sure you wouldn't dream of carrying illegal Dust in your hold again."

"That's right." He tried for a grin.

"Unauthorized passengers, on the other hand..."

"There's nobody on board but me," he said quickly.

"Not yet."

There was a brief silence. He didn't seem to know how to respond to that. "I, uh... look, you can't arrest me for something I haven't even done yet."

"No." Winter reached into a pouch on her belt and pulled out several lien cards. "But I presume I can pay you in advance? I thought about saving the other half for when we get to our destination, but I'm sure you're not stupid enough to make Steele upset."

This time he stood there, staring, for several long seconds. "...Is this a sting?"

Winter rolled her eyes. "Why would I bother when I could just look in your hold? You'll need to clear that out before we go, by the way. Your passenger is rather large."

"I'm not—"

She handed him the lien. He took it automatically, then seemed to realize what he'd just done and made a few token attempts to give it back.

"Be ready to leave in an hour," Winter told him. "If you can sell the Dust in that time, fine. If not, find somewhere to hide it. In the worst case, I've given you plenty to compensate for the loss."

"You can't just—"

"I'd apologize for the inconvenience, but perhaps instead I should just forget to report your original cargo to the General when we arrive at the Academy?"

"The Academy," he repeated, incredulous. "I can't go to the—"

"One hour," Winter said, and left the ship.