Excerpt: Brinkland

“This is from the conscription board,” Rose realized. “Frank, this is private—you shouldn’t show me this.”

“Never mind that; you’ve known me since I was six years old. But it says I’m ineligible for the draft. Why is that? I’m healthy enough.”

“What, would you rather go off to war?” Rose asked. “I thought you loved being a Skyrider.”

“I do. How can I not? If you had skimmed so low over the ocean that the waves ten miles offshore wet your boots—if you had whistled for the wind and felt it shape a storm around you so powerful that rider and griffin struggle together to stay on course…” Frank shrugged self-consciously. “But it still feels wrong not to help.”

“Well, you’re already helping here, honey,” she said. “Policy excludes the Skyriders from the draft because you’re needed to go on bringing the rain. What can you do in the army that compares to that?”

“The rain can’t save us if Azeland invades.”

“That’s true,” said Rose, “but the House and the governor decided this a long time ago. So that’s the reason for the letter. You can take it up with Overlea if you like, but I don’t think he’ll listen. The only other way to reverse that decision is to leave the Skyriders. But you love working the weather, don’t you?”

Frank sighed. “You know, my grandparents spent ten years in a work camp in Azeland, before the government was persuaded to allow the emigration. Grandpa had run an underground newspaper, and Grandma was an atheist. That was crime enough in the old country, and they were among the lucky ones. So if those Azic killers win this war—”

“It won’t happen,” Rose said staunchly.

“I’d just like to make sure of that, myself. Thank you anyway.”