Oracle

When the voice spoke, every dragon in the clan froze.

There were a number of reasons for this. The first was the fact that the voice was extremely loud, loud enough that the local colony of Java Sparrows (or "The Larder" as Baikal rather cruelly referred to them) took off from the roof with screeches of alarm.

The second reason was that the voice was completely unfamiliar. And when a very loud, unfamiliar voice booms out of nowhere with no warning whatsoever, the general response (besides screaming) is to assume that the gods are speaking.

The third reason was because the voice said


and nothing else.

It was Priestess Carmel who first figured out that it was not the Arcanist announcing his imminent retirement, but the great Oracle of the Clan, who lay to the left of the grand altar as the mirror to his mate on the right. Wrapped in the silken light of prophecy, his future-seeing eyes were fixed on something none of them would see as he stood up for the first time in memory.

"Go where, Lord Oracle?" she asked, hovering nervously a few feet away. "Is there another clan that needs your Sight?"

But at that moment, a rush of wind through the open doors of the cathedral swept Tucknee and his stuffed messenger bags (and his ruffled and complaining cat) into their midst.

"The Summons are here," he announced, only to stop and stare at the Oracle as the strange Imperial lifted his wings and took off, slipping up and out of the great double doors with no more sound than the roar of his passing. "What's going on? Have we lost honour with the Lord Arcanist? Has He called the Oracle back?"

"No, Tucknee," Majestas reassured him. "The Oracle spoke. It would seem that he is the one who is needed in the Games this week."

Safu, still wearing the ring gifted to her in her Games, frowned. "How? We don't even know which dragons are wanted yet!"

The clan leader just looked at her in blank astonishment. "What part of "Oracle" are you not understanding here, Safu?"

"...oh yes."

Majestas shook his head. "You might as well tell us, Tucknee. Who do they want? Oh, and how is the Battle going on, down in Starwind Bay? You must have flown close by on your way home."

"The battle isn't going well," Tucknee said as he dug into his packs for the scroll. "The Horror is much bigger than anyone anticipated. The Arcanist will need many more dragons to help research where it came from and how to take it down, so we should all get back to work as soon as possible. I've been trying to drum up some more support in the other lands, but no-one really wants to tangle with a giant Arcane Horror."

"Don't blame 'em," Unity could be heard muttering.

"Scroll, scroll, scroll... aha! The Games call for merchants or pirates with skill at manoeuvering in the Bay, or dragons with allegiance to Arcane or Wind."

"But Oracle isn't a pirate or a merchant," Safu said sadly. "Does that mean he was wrong?"

"No," Tucknee said thoughtfully. "He came from Wind originally, if I remember. And besides, we don't know what it was he saw. If he spoke, then it must have been something very important, which means he definitely needs to be there. We'll just have to watch and wait and learn."

"And train more recruits for the Arcanist," Majestas sighed. "Come on, everyone. Let's get a move on before that Horror escapes Starwind Bay and comes after the rest of Arcane..."