A Snap-Dragon Stolen Chapter 1: The Newcomers

Song Dragons: Range in size from a small dog to a large person. They are the most varied dragons by appearance, but all share a certain set of features: flat heads with thick scaling for stronger vibration, four legs, and bat wings. Song dragons are the only species that can have multiple heads.

On the fourth Tuesday of December, an announcement was made that Porter, the head housekeeper of the Academic wing, had disappeared. And on the first Monday of January, Lark could not find her name on the assignment list.

And that was why she stood in the housekeeping director’s office, her black skirt poofing around the arms that she clenched to her sides. Her white, starched apron was clean, and stiffer than she felt, and her jaw had locked itself into place, her teeth fitting as perfectly as puzzle pieces and refusing to unstick. Lark could even feel the free wisps of her hair solidify into tiny, brown sewing needles.

As the housekeeping director took his seat at the desk in front of her, Lark wondered if she’d be able to send her family a warning first. It’d be better if she could prepare them for the worst.

“I know why you’re here,” the director said, his voice even. He leaned his elbows on the dark wooden desk and stared at the door behind her. “Your name wasn’t on the assignment list this morning.”

Lark nodded.

“Well, I regret to inform you that you have been promoted.” He was still staring at something behind Lark, and light bounced off of his eyes in that pained way that she knew very well. It was an expression she used often, and even under that stiff face, she had sometimes felt the repercussions of strong emotion.

The director rubbed the back of his neck, sitting up straight again. His grey hair and sideburns framed his face in a way that turned him sharp and commanding. But Lark had talked to him while his dragon was around before, and she’d seen him smile. The wrinkles on his old, pale face brought out a childish glee when he grinned.

“If it's not a bother, could you investigate why we keep losing our Academic wing housekeepers?”

Lark nodded again.

“Aside from helping the staff though, your safety is priority.” With great reluctance showing in his sluggishness, he brought his face to look Lark in the eye. “If telling anyone about the reason will threaten your life, or the lives of others, don’t tell me. Don’t tell anyone. Just stay alive and survive as long as you can.”

Lark bit her lip, her head reeling with fear. She could feel it pounding, a shimmery darkness beyond the gates of restraint that she’d placed in her mind. One wrong twitch of muscle and she’d faint. It was that close.

Gulping and breaking eye contact, Lark sighed. Calm, calm. You’re not afraid. Not at all. She looked at the ceiling and sent a silent plea to her family in the countryside. “Yes, sir,” she said.

Then, the director let out a breath Lark didn’t know he’d held. He froze for a moment, obviously suffering from the same sort of headache that Lark had, and then he looked back at her. “As for today, please report to the assistant director’s office with your dragon and your belongings.” He paused a moment probably considering something else. “And Lark, I’ll send word to your family if something happens,” he said, “so don’t worry about them.”

The words sent tears to Lark’s eyes. She curtsied as quickly as possible, and then burst out of the office. Already, sweat beaded on her forehead, and her head held a pressure about to explode. The hallways distorted as she walked, and vertigo forced Lark’s stomach to turn itself inside-out. She wasn’t sure if she passed anyone on her way to the maids’ dorm, but it didn’t matter. It was imperative that she make it there in time.

And then she found it. Holding her breath, Lark groped for the handle and pushed the door in. She fell through and collapsed to her knees, just barely remembering to slam the door shut behind her. The sound of scuttling claws and a huge bang echoed in her ears, and Lark closed her eyes and curled up on the ground. Her cheeks felt sticky already.

It was two minutes of shuddering sobs and her hip jabbing into the hard, wooden floor before Lark opened her eyes again. In front of her was a set of shiny, white claws that joined together in two scaly, yellow feet. A half-smile pulled at Lark’s mouth, and she pushed herself off the floor to look at the dragon in front of her.

It was Cadence, of course. She was Lark’s faithful companion, a one-headed song dragon with a knack for the soprano end and translucent wings that looked too big for her collie-sized body. Warbling a broken, downward scale, Cadence stepped forward to headbutt Lark’s shoulder.

Lark sighed. “I know, Cadence. I’ve got to calm down and pack up before I make someone mad.” After rubbing a thumb on the hard, thick scales atop Cadence’s head, Lark stood on shaky legs and stumbled into the aisle that separated two rows of maids’ beds.

In her daze, Lark felt like the room went on forever. Truthfully, it only stretched fifty meters, but the beds were placed so close together that it still felt like a long ways before Lark finally reached hers. Kneeling on the floor, she reached one hand under the wooden bedframe and felt for her bag.

There it was. Lark pulled out a small, brown drawstring bag and admired the green vines and blue flowers embroidered into it. She’d done it herself when she was little. Feeling better already, she smiled and marched to the communal closet at the very back of the room.

Now here, she needed a deep breath. She’d heard the bang; she knew where all of the other maids’ dragons were. Closing her eyes as tightly as possible, Lark placed both hands on the thick, brass knobs on the closet doors. Then, after a huge exhale, she swung the doors open.

Warm air smashed over her like a tidal wave, swirling and reeling in her wake. Claws scraped the ground, and wings flapped, and Lark stood in the middle of it, blindly hoping none would run into her. Of course, none did; most dragons were too nimble for that.

When all the noise had died down, Lark opened her eyes. She felt tempted to turn around quickly and look at everyone’s dragons for what might be the last time, but she didn’t. Clenching her jaw, Lark shuffled through nightgown upon nightgown, looking for her name embroidered on the left sleeve. Except for that name, which came in all colors and all variations, each nightgown was exactly the same style, giving the impression that Lark was searching through a sea of off-white cotton.

Eventually she found it, the one with her name embroidered in neat, golden yellow letters. She eased it off of its wire hanger and stuffed it into her bag. Now for the fun part. Lark took a step back, her toes turning out to a small angle. Dragon claws scrambled across the floor. Another step, more scrambling, and more steps and more scrambling until finally Lark faced the entrance and the only dragon in her sight was Cadence.

Slipping the drawstrings of her bag over one wrist, Lark put her hands on her hips and smiled. “Well, Cadence,” she said, “ready to go?”

Cadence chirped two notes, both on the same pitch. Lark knew what that meant, of course. It was the dragon’s way of showing defeat, and a perfect reflection of how Lark felt inside. She wasn’t ready to go, ready to fill a position that might get her killed for some unknown reason. But she had to.

“Well,” Lark said, striding to the door with as much fake confidence as she could manage, “let’s go then. We don’t want to keep the assistant director waiting, do we?”

Two more flat chirps and Lark and Cadence were out the door. They marched down the hallways, feet quiet on green carpet, past miscellaneous staff posted to look busy and dust the decorations. And everywhere they went, they met pity.

Even the assistant director seemed a bit down, and she was especially good at hiding her emotion. For when Lark and Cadence found her loitering in the Academic wing lobby rather than her office, she didn’t seem the slightest bit angry. Instead, the assistant director reached one arm around Lark’s shoulders and gently and silently guided her to a side hallway.

There seemed to be an overabundance of doors along this way, with one at least every few feet. None were labeled, and were plain and splintered, with not-quite-rusty knobs. There wasn’t any carpet in this area, so Lark wondered if she’d have to step lightly in the mornings; her heels were loud.

And to add to the morning disruption, Lark’s room was placed at the very end of the hall. As the assistant director opened the door and slipped a key in Lark’s free hand, she stepped inside and looked around.

It was worse than the shared room. Lark had only the barest of accommodations: a thin blanket over a wooden bed, and a line of nails stuck into the wall by the door to hang her possessions. She had no closet to keep her nightgown from the eyes of others, and nightstand to hold a journal, or on which to write letters home. The wooden floor groaned underfoot, even more than the boards in the hallway.

“Leave your things here,” the assistant director said softly, pushing a stray, blonde hair from her face. The few wrinkles she’d already accumulated were twisted in her forehead, and she frowned as she spoke. She paused a moment before adding, “your dragon too.”

With her possessions hanging on the nails by her door and Cadence sitting dejectedly on the bed, Lark pulled her door shut and followed the assistant director’s gaze down the hallway. Confused by what faintest outline of people she could see from this end of the hall, Lark focused instead on the assistant director’s face. She looked worried, more so than usual, and the hair she’d pushed away was back in her face and stiff with tension.

The assistant director sighed. “I told the director that this was a bad day for promotions,” she said, her voice barely over a whisper. “The university students that were offered apprenticeships here are arriving today.”

For a moment, Lark had to puzzle out what the assistant meant. University students? Apprenticeships? And then she remembered. All of the students of magic or advanced arts needed both formal education and apprenticeship in order to gain entrance to one of their guilds. And speaking of the recent graduates…

Lark wrinkled her nose and gulped. Then, she turned to the assistant director and asked what she ought to do.

“Well, they aren’t arriving for a few minutes, and you’re new, so I suppose I’ll join the Academic staff line for today, and combine your tour with the apprentices’.” From her short height, the assistant looked up at Lark forced a grin. “Let’s go, shall we?”

Nodding, Lark followed the assistant down the hall, gulping heavily every few seconds. She was scared, very scared. And it wasn’t just the job that had her heart fluttering faster than butterfly wings. The students did too. What would they think when they heard her name? Would any remember? Would he remember? Lark wasn’t even sure what she wanted them to think.

But then Lark felt a sinister, bass pound rumble through her head, and she moved her topic of thought to the objective side.

When they entered the Academic wing lobby, Lark forced herself to observe it, and observe it well. Like everywhere else in the castle, the carpet was a deep, calming green with accents of gold by the edges. The walls were grey stone, all the way up to a great, stained glass ceiling. Colored light scattered over tapestries and charts tacked on the walls, and a putrid smell drifted past Lark’s nose. It was all so overwhelming, but gaping and gawking were two things she absolutely couldn’t do.

And then Lark’s gaze wandered onto the line of people standing in the center of the lobby. There were four of them, all elegantly dressed in satins and silks and fine cottons. She knew exactly who each one was, based solely on their dress; the far left was the doctor, then the alchemist, the mage, and then the astronomer. Upon closer inspection, they were actually slightly off-center, and Lark felt the assistant director’s hand on her shoulder, guiding her to join the line.

Panic would be a lovely expression to use, but that wouldn’t turn out well. As Lark stepped beside the astronomer, she could feel his disapproval wash over her. Compared to his crisp, night-blue suit, she looked like a street urchin. Besides, what kind of scholar would want to stand next to a mere maid? Well, technically one of the head housekeepers, but still.

For almost five minutes, Lark held a fake smile steady on her face, trying to calm her nerves. It took a while for her to notice, but she and the assistant director weren’t the only ones keeping their dragons out of sight. She sighed, realizing how used to the practice she’d gotten, but refrained from going any further.

And then she saw them. At first it was only their silhouettes and that of their dragons, but as they came into focus, Lark could pick out the little details.

In every way, the two apprentices seemed like opposites. The one on the left was a girl, plump and cheery and rosy-cheeked. Her platinum-blonde hair flowed freely, scattering loose curls in every direction. And then there was the way she dressed. Lark had never thought of a girl alchemist, mostly because they tended to wear suspenders and bow ties, but the look suited this girl. She was wild and confident.

Feeling slightly less worried about getting on with the girl, Lark turned to the other one. And then she had to tense every muscle in her body to keep from acting on her emotions. She knew the other one. That was Dorian, her old neighbor.

How funny to see him here, since he’d known for years that she worked here, and that they’d practically sworn themselves as enemies the moment he left home.

But even six years couldn’t keep Lark from recognizing that face. His eyes were dark, blacker even than his smooth, raven hair. And like always, he was thin as a stick, and full of sharp, obvious features. Add to that the tan skin that never faded, even in winter, and the soft, curled-in nose, and that was him.

The two apprentices came to a stop at the bottom of the short, six-step staircase that marked the entrance to the Academic wing. Dorian bowed, the other one curtsied, and then the Academic wing staff began their introductions.

Four names flew in one of Lark’s ears and out the other, but she noted how monotone their voices were, and wondered what they were really like, should she happen to meet one with their dragon.

She was so caught up in wondering that she didn’t realize what was happening until someone jabbed her back with two fingers. Immediately, she dropped into a low curtsy and bowed her head.

“I’m Lark,” she said, standing up again, “the head housekeeper of the Academic wing.” She could feel judgmental gazes passing over her, and wished she hadn’t been promoted this week.

Now for the apprentices. The girl’s curtsy was tiny, more of a bow with her hands barely picking up the sides of her skirt. She introduced herself as Waverly, and then bent down to pick up a squirming ball of blue-green scales. “And this is Misty,” she said.

The dragon relaxed immediately and stretched out to slither up one arm. Like any serpent, it was wingless and slimy-looking, with a head that seemed slightly too small to be majestic. Its crest was liked webbed frog feet, and its eyes were beady and blue, like a reflection of the sky.

Dorian introduced himself as well before stepping aside and gesturing backwards. Lark almost wanted to laugh at his dragon; she remembered him well, especially since he and Cadence hadn’t gone through the same hate routine before separating.

He was still ridiculously large, with four, broad heads that looked remarkably similar to Cadence’s. Colored in a dark, royal purple, Dorian’s dragon was the epitome of impressive. Even as he bowed his head, the huge, organ-like chord of his acknowledgement only served to heighten his grandeur.

“And this is my dragon, Cantor,” Dorian said.

Per usual protocol, the moment Dorian stepped back in front of Cantor, everyone dropped into another bow or curtsy. Now for the real chaos.

As the four other staff members left, the assistant director jabbed Lark’s back once more.

“Collect the new apprentices and follow me,” she said, before shoving Lark forward.

Immediately, heat rose to Lark’s cheeks. Her muscles froze, and the two steps she’d taken for balance were stiff and awkward. Her head pounded. She couldn’t do this. She looked back and the assistant director, risking a few moments of wide-eyed panic.

But the assistant only shooed her forward, so Lark had to grit her teeth and force herself to thaw. She took a few steps down the stairs, taking her time so she could mold a cheery smile onto her face. By the time she reached them, she was a princess in the woods, all loveliness and happiness.

Curtsy, smile, be nice. Even if it’s Dorian, there’s still Waverly. She stood up, beaming. “Please, follow me,” she said.

The two apprentices gathered their plain, beige suitcases and followed Lark up the stairs. She walked side-by-side with the assistant director, hoping that it made her look more like she knew what she was doing, but that was pointless anyway. As soon as the group turned down the hallway from earlier, the assistant director began talking.

“Both of you,” she said, looking ahead, “we’re sorry for the inconvenience, but this is actually Lark’s first day on the job, and she’s still learning the ropes. I hope you don’t mind if you share the tour with her.”

Neither one seemed to mind, though from their muttered assents, it was hard to tell if they meant it. They stopped soon after, and the assistant director gestured at two doors on either side of the hallway.

“These are your new rooms,” she said, before turning to Lark. “You don’t clean them, but I’m sure you already knew that.”

Lark nodded as the apprentices peeked in and dropped their things. Once before, she’d been assigned to Academic wing dorm-duty and gotten in huge trouble for cleaning up something an apprentice didn’t want anyone to touch. But after that, the head housekeeper got into even more trouble for not warning her.

“I have to talk with the apprentices to get special instructions,” Lark said.

The assistant smirked. “Right. You’re smart.”

“Um, thank you.”

It took a few moments, but the apprentices eventually came back out. They followed the assistant director back to the end of the hall, where a sheet of paper was nailed to the wall. A list of times in ten-minute increments was already there, with a few names and places written in already.

“If you are unable to take meals with the others for a project or something,” the assistant said, pointing at the paper, “please write your name and desired location by one of these times. Or, if you will be in town, write your name at the bottom so that we can provide you with something beforehand, should you need it. But remember that the list always applies to the next day.”

She turned to Lark, eyebrows raised, and Lark nodded. She understood already; it was her job to take the sheet away each night and bring meals.

Then, the assistant director turned back to the apprentices. “In the case of surprises, discipline heads are required to give you two bits for whichever meal you’ll miss when they send you to town. If you’re here, you’re out of luck unless you catch Lark around.”

Three nods and they were off again. As the assistant director showed everyone the library, she told Lark that she must bring tea here at four every afternoon, and that the librarian required meals here, since he never left, and that his room should not be touched. As she let the apprentices peek into the Astronomer’s workroom, she told Lark that she would have to clean his room, because he expected it clean, but also expected all in-progress projects to be correctly filed on his shelves, and it was a complicated system.

Next was the lab, where the alchemists worked. Apparently, the head alchemist’s calm demeanor tended to rub off on her apprentices, and they were the most relaxed about what was where.

“But just don’t let anyone go into those rooms anyway,” the assistant director said. “Not without protection. Sometimes they keep some pretty dangerous projects going on. And by the way, the head alchemist never misses a meal, and never gives her apprentices unexpected trips or assignments, so they’re quite easy to handle.”

Lark nodded, watching as Waverly pranced out of the room, glee emanating from her and Misty.

They visited the medical area next, but didn’t go in since there seemed to be a dissection going on at the moment.

“The doctor skips a lot of meals,” the assistant director explained, “but never breakfast. And his room is so bare-bones that all you ever have to do is make the bed.”

Last was the magery rooms. Of all the four disciplines, this was the one that made Lark most uneasy. Mages mixed up plants and metals, which was dangerous, according to Lark’s mother, and were incredibly reckless about using raw magic from themselves and other living things. Sure, Lark knew some magery, but it was a tried and true herb version her mother taught her.

And Dorian had gone off and decided to become a mage. He could have picked any other discipline; he had the potential for them all. But he picked magery.

Realizing her frustration, Lark dumped sand on her rage. Calm, be calm. Don’t faint on your first day.

Thankfully, the assistant director saved her. “The head mage is a little unpredictable, but he leaves notes outside the doors, so check those.” She turned to the apprentices, who were now standing awkwardly in the middle of the hall. “You two should check in with your discipline heads and get settled. Lark and I still have some things left to do. Make sure to ask about dragon policies.” And then the assistant walked back to the lobby, Lark following behind.

When the assistant director stopped, they were in the dead center of the lobby, with colored light falling like crystals on one edge of the carpet. The assistant placed one hand on Lark’s shoulder, her face stern, but her eyes showing glossy hints of solemnity.

“I’m sorry you had to be promoted here,” she said, “but remember that you must value your life. Even if you want to investigate Porter’s death for your own curiosity, or for the sake of whoever may come next, remember that you have to keep living as long as possible. Don’t let whatever is going on here get to you.”

Lark wished the assistant director hadn’t said anything. During the tour, her looming death had been more of a shadow at noon, but now it was like sunset, long, and black, and close.

“It’s half-past-ten,” the assistant director said, checking her pocket watch. “I suggest you start working.”