Miskit and Cogsley looked out across the stone spires that stood all around them from the nest they were in, trying to devise a plan for escape. The spires had been separated from the mainland long ago, pounded by the surf that still crashed against their bases. The next that the wyvern had deposited them in was large—several yards across and at least four feet deep—with six immense eggs that were grouped on one side. But that hadn't been the worst for them. If robots had ears, steam would be blowing out of theirs.

"This is all your fault, Cogsley!" Miskit shouted, jabbing a finger at him.

"My fault?" Cogsley retorted. "You're the one who got caught by the wyvern! I was just an unwitting passenger!"

"But it was your idea to tie us together! You should have tied yourself to the ship!"

"Yeah, yeah. Water under the bridge, Miskit. If you thought that, you should have said something." Miskit lost her temper. She stomped toward Cogsley and shoved him back when she reached him. He smashed into one of the eggs with a calcitic crunch. He looked at the damage. A hole had been made where he impacted the shell. "Oh, that's just lovely. Now look at what you've done!" But the hole got bigger, a tiny chirping noise was heard from within, and an infant wyvern poked its head out a moment later. "Uh-oh," Cogsley said. "He's looking at me funny. What does he want?"

"He must think you're his mother," Miskit observed.

"That's a bad idea, kid," Cogsley told the tiny winged lizard, but it only chirped at him. "You don't want me to be your mother. Trust me." It chirped again and launched itself into his arms, purring. The sudden weight almost toppled him backward. "Miskit, do something!"

"What do you want me to do?" She chuckled. "He seems harmless."

"It's his real mother I'm worried about!"

The tiny reptile nuzzled Cogsley's shoulder, purring like a chuckabur, and Miskit giggled at the sight. The thing was so cute, and the fact that it thought grumpy old Cogsley was its mother only made it funnier. But her mirth died when she turned her head and saw a glint. "Hey look!" She pointed, and Cogsley followed her finger. "I think it's an airship!" She began jumping up and down, waving her arms wildly and screaming to attract attention.

But the excitement of the moment was lost on Cogsley as he recognized the vessel's shape. "Miskit! Get down and stay low!"

She looked back at him. "Are you crazy!? Do you want to stay here forever!?"

"It's a Hemlock ship! They're pirates!" He set the thing down and looked into its eyes. "Listen to me, kid. I know you've only just hatched, but you're going to have to fly. If you don't, these people are going to eat you. Understand?" The baby wyvern looked at him blankly, eyes wide and his mouth angled into a sort of grin. "You have no idea what I'm saying, do you?"

"Here they come, Cogsley!" Miskit said, then turned to look at him. She gasped. "What are you doing!?"

"This is for his own good!" Cogsley said. "You'll thank me for this someday," he told the little dragon, then tossed it over the edge. It fell for a few seconds without reaction, and Cogsley shouted, "Flap your wings and fly, kid!" The little dragon must have heard him, because it spread its wings and leveled its flight just inches above the water, leaving a wild spray in its wake. "He did it!"

"Cogsley!" Miskit yelled, but neither of them had a chance to say anything more before two salvage crane claws latched onto them and started lifting them up toward the ship.

"Ha! Spoiled your lunch, barbarians!" Cogsley said, shaking his fist at the vessel.

"I don't think they were after the wyvern, Cogsley," Miskit said worriedly.

The claws carried them up and then dropped them onto the ship's deck, where an old man sat at the controls. He looked down at Cogsley through a magnifying lens over his right eye. "Hm. Very interesting," he said. "You're an older model."

"Speak for yourself, old timer," Cogsley snorted indignantly. "You're not exactly a spring chicken, you know."

"Touché." The old man stood, took up a cane and hobbled toward the helm. "Well, you two look harmless enough. Make yourselves comfortable and hold onto something."

"Where are we going?" Miskit asked.

The old man turned to her with a look she couldn't read and said simply, "Home."

Miskit rolled her eyes at the vagueness of the answer but decided not to pursue it, then turned to look over the ship's port stern. "Hey Cogsley, look. Your new buddy decided to follow us."

"What are you doing, kid!?" Cogsley hollered. "Go back!" The infant wyvern only chirped at him in response and continued to follow the rickety aircraft.

They flew into a cave beaten into the side of a cliff by the ceaseless pounding of the sea. It was big enough to easily fit the old airship through, and on the other side was a protected grotto surrounded on all sides by high stone cliffs. In the center was an island, and built around a tree in the center of the island was a house built of wood with a thatched roof. The ship came to land on the water, its momentum and prop wash sending up a spray of foamy white mist until it came to a stop at the beach, where an olive-green robot was waiting.

"Welcome back home, sir," it called.

"Cecil," the old man called back. "We have a couple of new recruits. Load up their memories with a cleaning program."

The robot nodded its affirmation. "Yes, sir."

"Hey!" Cogsley snapped. "Nobody's loading anything into our brains!"

"Don't worry, my friend," the old man assured as he tossed his staff overboard onto the sand and descended the rope ladder. "It's a good program. It'll let you know what needs to get done around here." His feet touched ground and he picked up his staff. "And it was written by your master, Silas."

Cogsley and Miskit were caught off guard. "You knew Silas?" Miskit asked.

The old man ignored her question. "Cecil, refuel the ship and show our new friends around the house."

"Yes, sir."

Miskit decided to skip the ladder completely and leapt over the railing. Cogsley descended the ladder carefully; for all his machismo, he hated being on anything that wasn't steady. He was halfway down when he heard a chirping noise that made him flinch. He slowly turned his head and saw the baby wyvern looking up at him with cheerful puppy eyes. "Uh-oh." He hit the sand and picked up a piece of driftwood. "Look, kid, I know it's going to be difficult to say goodbye, so I'm going to give you something to remember me by." He held it out to the infant reptile. "Here. Take this stick." The creature sniffed it, then took it in its mouth. Cogsley stood and walked toward the house, waving at the hatchling. "It's been fun, kid. Good luck with your life."

He caught up with Miskit and Cecil. "This way, please," said the olive robot.

The house was impressive, all things considered. In fact, if one took into account that this island was in the middle of nowhere and seemed to have few if any resources of its own, the house was nothing short of an ingenious marvel of resourceful engineering. It was more or less a simple structure suspended some twenty feet above the sand on stout stilts that lacked proper walls and had a heavy roof of thatched straw and woven kelp.

They ascended the stairway to the main floor. Miskit let her hand slide along the rail. It was smooth and cool—either expertly crafted or worn by time. She decided on the latter. On the main floor was an offshoot of the tree's trunk, likely being utilized by their host to help support the structure. Arranged around the trunk was a three-seat couch with footstools, and several pictures framed a small shelf cut into the trunk itself. The top and middle held mostly books and a few odds and ends, while the lowest held candles. It struck her as obsessive that everything was so well maintained and kept up for a structure this old. If it was as old as she was guessing.

There was a proper wooden ladder behind the trunk that led to the next level. Miskit climbed it, then another flight of stairs, followed closely by Cogsley and Cecil. Upon cresting the stairway, they saw the old man reaching for one of a collection of glass containers on a low shelf. "I apologize for my lack of courtesy, my friends. Please make yourselves at home." He opened the container he'd taken off the shelf. "Would you care for some tea?"

"Tea?" Cogsley was incredulous. "We don't have time for tea!"

"There is always time for tea," said the old man.

"You don't understand," interjected Miskit. "We're on an important mission and our friends need our help."

"Then you should sit down and reflect on what you're going to do," the old man said philosophically.

Cogsley huffed in irritation. "Let's go, Miskit. We're wasting time with this hermit."

"But Cogsley, we're on an island," Miskit pointed out. "Besides, where would we go?"

"Sit down," said the old man, a bit more forcefully.

"I don't drink tea," Cogsley said irritably, then turned to leave.

He didn't get far though. The next thing he knew, he was picked up and then deposited on a couch. "I told you to sit down," the old man repeated.

Miskit gasped. "You're a Stonekeeper!" The old man levitated the kettle and some cups onto the coffee table in front of the couch, but Cogsley just humphed and stubbornly crossed his arms. "You mentioned Silas," Miskit went on. "How did you know him?"

The old man turned toward her and smiled under his beard. "We served together on the Guardian Council," he told her. "He left me this." He held up a rectangular shape that had an antenna on the top and a graphed red screen on the facing side, and set it on the table. "It's a transceiver he designed himself to locate and track his creations. This is how I found Cecil. For years, it sat silent in my collection of keepsakes until it began to pick up another signal. That's how I found you. I never got to ask why he gave me this, and it was long after our time on the Council that I learned what it was for."

The company was silent for a moment as Miskit and Cogsley digested this information. Then Miskit said, "Silas said he was exiled from Cielis for telling the truth."

"Interesting."

"Why were you booted out?" asked Cogsley.

"I wasn't booted out. I left." The old man poured himself some tea and looked at his guests. "You must understand that Silas was an odd man. He spoke his mind freely, and it upset the other Council members. He was eventually voted off the Council."

"But what would prompt them to exile him?" Miskit asked.

"He wanted to destroy the Motherstone."

Miskit and Cogsley looked blank. "The Motherstone?" asked Miskit.

"It's where all of these come from." He held up his stone. "Our Stonekeeper powers originate from a single source. Cut from a gem that was discovered by the early settlers of this planet.

"Realizing that the Motherstone contained tremendous energy, the settlers buried it deep beneath their first city, Cielis, the ancient capital of Windsor. The original Guardian Council was established to govern use of the Motherstone. Small bits of the powerful gem were cut and provided to the early settlers of Alledia to help them develop our world. Centuries passed, and hundreds of Stonekeepers were born. With their powers they built the foundation for the great nations of Alledia, and accelerated the development of cities across the globe.

"Of course, more than a few Stonekeepers have abused the immense power that the stones provided them, and waged war on other Stonekeepers for control of the nations. Many Stonekeepers perished in the battles, and their stones perished with them. By the time I joined the Council, only a small shard of the Motherstone remained. It was decided that cutting the final piece would only be considered if the Council needed to call on its power to help defend Cielis and the nation of Windsor. It was considered a last resort. Your master, Silas, felt that if we weren't going to use it, we should destroy it before it fell into the wrong hands. To treat it as an insurance policy, he reasoned, was a potentially fatal mistake. He criticized the Council for making decisions based on their fears, and believed that if we down this path, we would see those fears realized.

"At the time I was the youngest member of the Council, and due to my inexperience, I would make some decisions of my own that I would regret for the rest of my life. The first such decision was to vote in favor of removing Silas from the Council; shortly afterward, the elves unleashed a devastating attack on Cielis and forced the Council to hide the city in the clouds. And then I began to see what Silas saw. The Council's every move was motivated by fear; I'd just been too young and too stupid to see it before. I could no longer be a part of them. So I tendered my resignation."

When he said nothing more, Miskit asked, "And you just left?"

"Not exactly. You see, I still considered myself a member of the Council, but followed the guidelines established by the original and chose to work outside the system. For millennia, it was forbidden for a keeper's stone to be inherited by their descendants, the reason being that such power becoming a generational thing would cause families to think they deserved everything their stones' power had to offer and try to usurp power of the nations. I went against the grain of the wood I'd been cut from and passed my stone down to my son, and trained him to become a better Stonekeeper than I had ever been. He was eager to fight, so he set out to take on the Elf King."

Another drawn-out pause. "And what happened?" Miskit urged.

The old man shook his head. "That is a story for another time." He gulped down the rest of his tea and set his cup down. "Now if you'll excuse me." He stood up. "I have a sunset to catch." He began to walk away. "You're welcome to stay here as long as you like. But if you'd prefer, we can provide you with a boat."

Cogsley instantly pounced on the offer. "Great! Where are the paddles?"

Miskit looked at Cecil and asked, "What happened to his son?"

Cecil looked back at her and answered, "He was killed and the stone returned to Vigo. The old man hasn't been the same since."

That evening, Cogsley was down on the beach sliding the boat offered to them by Vigo to the water's edge. He'd been at it all afternoon, but being programmed with over a million mechanical procedures had made that task child's play. First he checked to hull for weak spots and signs of rot or places that had been patched over. Next he rigged the mast and set it upright before checking the tiller for damage and stowing the paddles. Finally, he unfurled the sail to check it for holes or tears that the wind might catch and tear the big canvass sheet in half. But the tiny ship appeared to have been kept in excellent repair, and he saw nothing that immediately threatened the vessel's seaworthiness.

He was just nosing the boat into the water when he sensed the baby wyvern closeby. He turned and saw it over his shoulder, sitting in the sand where he'd left it like an obedient dog. "You're not going to give up, are you?" The baby lizard just stared at him. "Well, if you want to join our crew, you'll have to toughen up. And you can start by wiping that goofy grin off your face." He turned when he heard Miskit walking away. "Hey, Chief! Where are you going?"

"I need to speak to Vigo," she answered.

"Well, hurry it up. We're already starting late. We need to catch what sunlight is left!"

Miskit climbed a winding stairway carved from the sheer cliff face to the top if the island, where she saw Vigo sitting on a rock and peering out at the barren horizon. She wondered briefly how he could live in such an isolated place, then reasoned it was his way of grieving his loss. She walked up quietly behind him, not wanting to disturb his moment of tranquility, but his head turned slightly to her side of him anyway. "You should know that Master Silas is dead," she said simply.

Vigo didn't turn to look at her. "Killed by the elves?"

"No. An illness."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"You should also know that he passed his power down to his great-granddaughter," Miskit continued. "Her name is Emily Hayes, and she could use your help right now. She's searching for Cielis and the Guardian Council, looking for other Stonekeepers like you. I just wanted you to know that there are still people out there who are fighting for the same things you and Silas believed in. Even if you've lost faith in them."

Vigo heaved a sigh, but gave no other indication that what she'd said had affected him. "Thank you for telling me about Silas," he said quietly. "You should leave now, before it gets dark."

Cogsley heard Miskit approaching. "Is he coming?"

Miskit shook her head. "No. Let's go." She helped Cogsley shove the boat into the water and rigged the sail.

"Well, at least we have one new ally," the cranky robot mechanic said, looking at the baby wyvern. "Although I'm pretty sure that he has no idea what he's getting himself into."

Long after the sun had gone from the sky, Cecil ascended the step to a secluded place on the cliff top, where Vigo was standing alone before two headstones. A small pot of flowers sat between them. "The ship is fueled and loaded, sir," he said with respectful softness.

"What do you think, Cecil?" Vigo asked after a moment.

"Sir?"

"What do you think about this? About the decisions I've made? About me?"

"I think this is a very nice place to retire, but it's not my place to judge your decisions. Those are your own. As for you…" The robot paused for a moment, then said carefully, "I think it's about time you got back in the game, sir."

Vigo let out a chuckle. "Of course you do." He turned and started down the stairs. "This is what I get for listening to the toys of a madman." The headstones were left behind in silence, bearing the names of Vigo's wife and son. Miriam and Daniel Light.

Out on the open ocean, Miskit and Cogsley sat in their boat, pushed along by a stout breeze that caught in the sail. The moon was rising, a huge sphere of brilliant white silver that reflected off the water in an amorphous ripple. The night sky was the clearest they'd ever seen it, filled with stars that twinkled and danced as invisible wisps of clouds and the odd heat waves distorted them. Faint milky streaks smeared the sky, breaking the monotony of prominent deep midnight blue.

Cogsley looked at the baby wyvern, as he had been for the past hour now. He was considering what to do with it and felt conflicted, something not commonly known for robots. He knew that the best thing to do for the little guy was to encourage it to find its own way in life, but it appeared to be attached to him now and didn't seem to have any idea what he was saying when he spoke to it. Truthfully, Cogsley was growing attached to the baby reptile also.

Finally, he reached a decision. "I think I'll name him Dagno," he said suddenly. "It's what Silas was going to name his next robot. Does he look like a Dagno to you?"

Miskit made urgent shushing gestures. "Do you hear that?" she asked.

The sound of an aerial motor was approaching rapidly, and soon a blinding floodlight was on them. Two pneumatic thumps and they were grabbed by familiar salvage claws. "There has to be a better way to do this," Cogsley complained.

The claws lifted them over the rails and onto the deck of Vigo's aircraft, where the old man stood at the controls. "I'm sorry about this, my friends," he said. "But I thought you could use a lift."

"So you finally decided to help us," Cogsley said dryly. "What convinced you?"

"Not what," said Vigo, "but who. I've been fighting with myself for years, and it was Cecil who finally got me to see reason. Cielis has been lost for years, and no one seems to know or even believe that it still exists."

"How do you intend to find it?" asked Miskit.

"My stone will guide us there," Vigo explained, holding up the gem in his necklace. "The path to the city is open to all members of the Guardian Council, past and present, so long as you're willing to brave the eye of the storm." He guided his tiny airship toward the center of the Golbez Cycle.