The Sail Weaver by Muffy Morrigan

Of course, there was no knowing for sure until the moment they moved into the Winds. Life or death was decided in that instant and most people were expecting their deaths, the loss of the ship and an end to the dream. Fenfyr crooned from behind him, one giant claw curling protectively around Tristan’s feet as they waited.
    The first sail was dropped off the deck, falling hundreds of feet down towards the bottom of the mainmast. The sound of its passage whistled through the below decks, filtering up in an eerie echo. The boatswain moved to watch its fall. Long seconds passed. “It caught!” he shouted. Cheers broke out as the second sail followed the first, the volume increasing as each fell into place, the crosstrees soon full, the massive sails waiting for their maiden flight.
    “Will she fly?” Barrett asked breathlessly.
    “I won’t know until you do,” Tristan said as he and Fenfyr walked to the mainmast panel. He peered down into the depths of the ship, seeing the soft sparkle of the willowisps waiting for their first chance to catch the Winds. The dragon nudged him gently, Tristan leaned a shoulder against him, trying to sound casual. “Looks good, we will sail on schedule.”
    “Very good, sir,” Barrett replied quickly.
    “Soon,” Tristan whispered—to the sails, the ship, he wasn’t sure who, but Fenfyr heard him and answered with a soft huff of breath, before resting his chin on the deck and looking down at the sails as well.
    “Your sails passed the first test, Weaver,” Stemmer said from beside him.
    “You were expecting something else?” Tristan turned to face the man.
    “On this ship? We had no reason to believe you were capable of making them.”
    “Odd, then why build it?” Tristan asked mildly. The captain’s face turned red. “Darius asked me personally to see to it, so of course they would catch.”
    “We’ll see what happens.”
    “Yes,” the Weaver said softly, a warning in his voice. “We will.” Stemmer looked from him down to the sails, grunted and walked away without another word. “We might have problems with him,” Tristan commented.
    Fenfyr hummed an affirmative before moving closer, stretching his neck so his head disappeared. A terrified shout wafted up, followed by a warm chuckle from the dragon.
    “Some of the men haven’t seen a dragon before,” Barrett said. “The latest group just arrived.”
    “Pressed?”
    “Not many, mostly volunteers, and only then just the lowest ranks. Almost the entire crew is Skilled at least.” Barrett smiled. “She deserves no less.”
    Fenfyr pulled his head out and snorted.
    “Did they meet with your approval?” Tristan asked , amused.
    “Hmm,” the dragon muttered. “The Dragon’s Roost is too small.”
    “You can talk!” Barrett’s eyes were huge.
    “Of course I can,” Fenfyr laughed.
    “I … ” Barrett swallowed nervously. “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant—the dragons I’ve served with, they never spoke, I thought they … I mean I know dragons talk to Weavers but … ”
    “We’re particular, and don’t speak to just anyone.” He nudged Tristan gently. “I am going to inspect things.”
    “Don’t scare anyone to death,” Tristan chided.
    “Not all the way,” Fenfyr rumbled softly before he disappeared over the edge of the opening, shortly after muffled screams drifted up from below decks. The Weaver smiled as he watched the soft glow reflecting off Fenfyr’s wings move deeper into the darkness along the masts.
    “Would you like to see the ship, sir?”
    Tristan pulled his attention from the dragon and focused on Barrett. “I would, thank you, Mr. Barrett.”
    A bright smile lit the officer’s face as he led the way across the deck. “The plating is the latest design,” he said, gesturing at the dome that soared over their heads. “ Winged Victory’s masts are the largest ever constructed, when fully extended the mainmast is more than seven hundred feet.