Lihan Taifun
The sounds in the Alqualondë market are subdued — the restless pounding of surf in the harbor, so unlike the waves that rocked the ship; the skittering of a leaf blown by the wind across the pavement; the murmur of the fountain in the central square, still running though the ones who maintained it are vanished. And over all, the cry of the sea birds. Their voices remind Aztryd of the birds that nested above the hidden gardens of Ibirgathol. This elvish city is not her home, but the voices of the birds give her a sense that this is —or was — someone's home. Someone knew these birds as friends. Just as someone's child fit the clothes she has been looking at. What strange thoughts, in this melancholy, deserted market.
Suddenly, the birds erupt in a frightened clamor that fades into the distance. Aztryd pokes her head out the shop doorway. Gone! The birds are gone. That isn't like them. These noisy sea birds are curious as magpies, equally thieving, and more likely to fly toward a stranger than away. Good thing they don't like the produce of the gardens, because they are impossible to frighten away. Yet it seems something has frightened them. The imperturbable swans around the fountain are missing as well. With a growing unease, Aztryd moves out into the square.
Was that the sound of a splash, in the harbor? She has read of catapults used to throw rocks at ships. A large rock landing in the sea might make a sound like that. Are we under attack, then? She races down to the wharf for a better view.
Yes, there is something dark and very large in the water. Swimming in the water. Swimming toward the beach. She watches, horrified, as a beast pulls itself onto the beach. There can be no doubt: a dragon!
All else forgotten, she runs back to the palace. She and Nizl need to be in a safe place! Gather with the women and children! The Grandmothers will know what to do!