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a while to vaporize at this altitude, so let’s get the rest set up.”
    Moth helped Em lug the gas-powered harpoon launcher from the hut, and together, with a fair bit of squabbling, they assembled the whole apparatus. The last piece to go on was the harpoon itself, a five-foot-long missile tipped with a bulb of alp dust.
    The alp came from the kitchens of Mother Cauldron, the most brilliant mixer of osteomantic materials Daniel knew, and it hadn’t come cheap. He’d spent a full month of the last year breaking into vaults and warehouses and strongholds, stealing entire fortunes of bones for her. But she assured Daniel her alp mixture could tranquilize even a Pacific firedrake, and if she was telling the truth, the month of thieving would be a small price to pay.
    Smoke boiled from the kettle and threaded through the air.
    â€œNow we wait,” said Daniel. “You two should go back in the hut.”
    Moth looked appalled. “But what about s’mores?”
    â€œYeah,” Em said, reaching inside her parka. “I brought s’mores.” She proudly displayed a box of graham crackers, a bag of marshmallows, and a giant chocolate bar.
    â€œYou guys want to make s’mores in the flames of my torch? My osteomancer’s torch, an instrument with more moving parts than a Swiss watch?”
    â€œWe figured it’d make really good s’mores,” Em said.
    Daniel eyed the kettle. It had stopped smoking and releasing Daniel’s scents. He took the kettle off the torch. “Okay. S’mores.”
    Moth rubbed his hands in delight, and then a great noise ripped through the sky, like the crack of a sequoia-sized whip.
    â€œPosition the gun,” Daniel snapped. He looked to the sky. Nothing north, south, or east. But in the west, a shape came out of the sun: a sharp silhouette standing out against the red sky, with a slim serpentine body, sail-like wings, a long neck and undulating tail. Through the binoculars, Daniel could make out the shingles of its belly armor and licks of flame from its snout.
    â€œEm…?”
    Em peered through the gun sight. “I’ve got him but he’s not in range.”
    Moth stood behind her. “You guys never told me how close he has to get.”
    â€œYeah, we kinda hid that from you,” Em said. “A hundred meters.”
    Moth sputtered. “Are you kidding me? We’re supposed to stand a hundred meters from a Pacific firedrake? I could throw the harpoon that far.”
    Em turned the crank to tilt the gun up. “I worked out the weight of the harpoon, its aerodynamics, and your arm strength. We’re using the gun.”
    Moth shook his head and planted his feet, as if readying himself for a body blow.
    The dragon climbed ever higher, just a dark smudge against a lilac band of sky pricked with the evening’s first stars. It froze there a moment, then dove.
    A shockwave of heat preceded the dragon, and the air swam with mirage. It spread out its wings, enflamed sky glowing behind translucent membranes. Every beat of its wings pummeled the air, and it hovered, its sleek, canoe-shaped head level with the mountain summit.
    Its eyes fixed upon Daniel, pupils like black fissures in burning orange irises.
    Daniel stared right back.
    He’d eaten dragon, and he felt his own flame rising up in his lungs, felt his fingertips crackle with lightning. He was an osteomancer, and the way to deal with power was to consume it. He wanted to flay the dragon of its flesh, and pry off its armor plates, gut it and scrape and shovel away meat until its fine, rich bones were exposed. Eat the firedrake’s bones, and Daniel would have its power to add to his own.
    A crushing pressure took his shoulder. It was Moth’s hand. “Daniel,” Moth said, low and gentle. “Em’s waiting for the order.”
    â€œGod,” Daniel whispered, horrified. “It’s Sam.”
    â€œYeah,” Moth said.