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up his chest and fumbled for the words, managing only a squeaky, “Are you going to be all right?”
    “I’ll be fine,” Belen said softly. “I just need to sit down.”
    Beside Belen, Ebano tightened his hand on her shoulder and looked at Jace. “Inside.” His voice was low and echoing as he struggled for the words. The mesmerist gestured at the ruins ahead as a few large drops of rain splashed on the broken cobblestones. “Rain soon.”
    “Right. The storm.” Jace shook himself. “Ebano, help Belen. I’ll find Cerisse and see if there’s a place up ahead that can give us shelter.” He waited until Ebano gave him a nod, and then hurried ahead.
    The town was a shambles, with ruined buildings dotting the terraced landscape. The one building that was still whole stood at the center of the town’s plaza, just beyond the little bridge over the babbling brook. Jace scrambled over the broken bridge and through the windswept plaza, avoiding a large muddy patch of old-turned earth where it looked like something—probably one of the massive old trees—had been torn up and tossed away by a powerful force. The standing structure at the end of the plaza was twice as tall as the other buildings would have been and wide across the bottom, standing on a thick foundation of cut stone. The windows were of colored glass, though dim with dust and the waste of several unattended autumns. The heavy oak door was solid—and slightly open. He called Cerisse’s name again and heard her yell a response from inside. Picking up his pace, the tightrope walker headed that way.
    Cerisse smiled at the sight of him, gesturing him over. She was turning over several battered books on a broken and tilted desk. “I think this was a school,” she said, waving him toward her. “Look at these books and the little desks all around. The chalkboard even has writing on it—a bit—though it’s pretty faded and smeared.” Cerisse looked around with friendly interest. “I think they were doing mathematics, before—”
    “Before they died?” Jace snapped. He regretted the words as soon as he said them. “I didn’t mean it to sound that way …”
    Cerisse set the books down. “Good thing Belen’s not here to listen to you talk like that,” she said. “I thought you said she was innocent?”
    “I do!” he protested. “I … did. I don’t know what to think now, Cerisse. When she came into the village, she recognized it, and there was something terrible in her eyes.” Worried, he sank down to sit on the edge of the broken desk.
    He’d expected a snarky comment or some kind of biting remark, but Cerisse sat down beside him and placed her hand on his knee. “Don’t worry. If she was here for the attack—dragon or no dragon—it had to be traumatic for her. One of our theories is that she was the dragon and was tricked into coming here. Maybe we were right. Or maybe she was a girl turned into a dragon by a horrible curse or some dark magic. In either case, she’d be pretty shaken up to be back here, right? Seriously, Jace, you give up too easily.” Cerisse peered out the open door, signaling to Ebano, who was coming slowly down the broken path. “All the signs point to a pretty bad storm tonight. I’m glad this building is still standing.”
    “Yeah.” Jace was glad to change the subject. “I wonder why? All the others were pretty badly ruined.”
    “Maybe the dragon thought there were children in here and didn’t attack it.”
    Cerisse’s idea inexplicably cheered Jace. If that was true, then maybe the dragon that attacked the village wasn’t doing it to hurt people. Maybe, even if it was Belen, she’d had enough control of herself not to really go all out. But if that was true, and she hadn’t hurt them, then where had all the people of the village gone?
    Ebano helped Belen up the stairs into the stone school, and Jace took her hand so she could lean on him as she stepped across some brambles growing at the door. Belen