So long as I had that, the darkness was my friend. It helped me concentrate.

I played some more notes on my recovered melodica, and floated towards the ceiling. Then I changed to another tune, quickening the tempo, and drifted from the room.

The dragons of the southern plains fly with the same magic. Beneath their residual wings are two flexible tubes, which make a sound like a flute as the air rushes through them. I spent years studying the records of those magnificent creatures, learning the secret of their enchantment.

There weren’t many left, now. People would kill to get their hands on an egg. These poachers almost had. Time was running out to discover where in this ancient warehouse they had hidden it, but I owed it to the dragons to try.

My pursuers relied on technology, not magic. They had weapons and night vision goggles and a few other things. Dragon poachers usually did. I closed my eyes and navigated by sound, sensing my way along the corridor towards the stairs.

Then the lights came back on.