05 Dragon Blood: The Blade's Memory

by Lindsay Buroker

  “No. My father beat the rebelliousness out of the neighborhood delinquents. Nothing fun about that.”

  “Bent you over his knee, did he?”

  “Numerous times. Did Moe do that to you?”

  “Moe wasn’t around much. My mom withheld pie if I was too bad. That was a heinous punishment.”

  Tolemek snorted. “Admit it, Zirkander. You were coddled.”

  “I was an only child. It happens.”

  Tolemek did not respond to that, other than to glance skyward. Wondering if his sister was out there somewhere? Ridge was not sure whether to hope Tylie would visit Iskandia or not. A dragon could help with a lot of things—the idea of it glaring at Therrik and him wetting himself was quite appealing—but Ridge hadn’t gotten the impression that the dragon wanted to be an Iskandian ally. More likely, it would join with Cofah airships in plundering the Iskandian countryside.

  “At what point are we going to conclude that we threw a knockout grenade—and a rock—into an empty house?” Tolemek asked.

  Ridge sighed, afraid he was right.

  “If he was in there, he would have had a few seconds to react before succumbing,” Tolemek added. “We would have seen or heard something. Cursing of your name, perhaps.”

  “I didn’t put my name on the rock.”

  “No? I thought delinquents liked to leave their mark.”

  Ridge pointed at the house. “How long before it dissipates and it’s safe for us to go inside?”

  “It probably already has.”

  “Probably? I only ask because a light went on in that house on the corner—” Ridge pointed, “—and someone might come out to investigate.”

  “What’s the point in going in to question him if he’s not home?”

  “Snooping. Maybe there’s a nice note about the king’s kidnapping in there.” Ridge doubted it—as much of an ass as Therrik had been to him at that meeting in the castle, nothing he had said or done had suggested anything but respect for the king, and Therrik didn’t seem bright enough to play an actor’s role. One wondered how he had made it through officer training.

  “Sounds like wishful thinking.”

  “Stay here, if you want.” Feeling the press of time—and the fact that he had accomplished absolutely nothing tonight—Ridge ran for the back door.

  He tried the knob, expecting it to be locked and to have to break the rest of the window to get inside, but to his surprise, it turned. “Arrogant bastard,” he muttered. “Thinking nobody would be brave enough to rob him.”

  “Maybe he simply doesn’t have anything of value,” Tolemek murmured from behind Ridge’s shoulder. He must have decided to join in with the snooping after all. Maybe he hoped Therrik had a chemically interesting lavatory. “Or he believes this is a secure base where felons aren’t allowed access in exchange for school appearances.”

  “I’m not a felon. Yet.”

  “Waiting on the conviction?”

  “Sh.” Ridge pushed open the door. He found himself reaching for his pistol but forced his hand to open and leave it in his holster. If he shot Therrik, he would be a felon.

  After the pot incident at the general’s house, Ridge stepped carefully into the kitchen, but he did not run into anything. Though he believed Tolemek was right and the house was empty, he paused in the middle of the room to listen. His nose crinkled. The bedroom door stood open, a breeze blowing through the broken window, and the scent of chemicals lingered in the air.

  “You’re sure they’ve dissipated enough?” Ridge whispered.

  “Yes, but the scent will linger for several minutes.”

  “Fantastic.” Ridge padded through the house in the dark, checking to make sure all of the curtains were closed. He wanted to light a lamp for snooping, but he had to assume Therrik would come home eventually, and getting caught in here—next to the broken window—would not be healthy. “Can you watch the front walkway? Let me know if you see anyone coming?”

  “Making me an assistant to your felonious ways?”

  “Your bomb was tied to the rock. You’re already an assistant in the eyes of Iskandian law.”

  While Tolemek was stewing over that, Ridge found a match and lit a small lamp. He wasn’t sure what he had expected from the decorating eye of Colonel Therrik, but he wasn’t surprised by what he got. At least a hundred types of swords, maces, and daggers adorned one wall, while the wall next to the stove held all manner of historical pistols, muskets, and rifles. A third held schematics for military vehicles from horse-drawn wagons to steam-powered armored assaulters. The final wall, the one with the window and the front door, held a single item, a framed cloth embroidered with a pink rose.

  “Odd man,” Ridge muttered, making his way to the desk.

  A disassembled pistol lay on top along with an unpacked weapons cleaning kit. Neither the desk nor the corkboard behind it held any promising messages about the king, ransom notes, or secret deals with the Cofah. He delved into the drawers, but had only made it to the second one when Tolemek stirred at the window.

  “Wagon coming. We need to go.”

  Ridge growled and cut out the lamp. “We haven’t found anything yet.”

  “Perhaps we should have spent less time tying chemicals to rocks and more time—”

  “Yes, yes, you can lecture me later.” In the darkness, Ridge stepped toward the kitchen and the back door but paused. “Are you sure that’s his vehicle and that it’s coming here? Therrik seems like the type to walk everywhere. Or double-time it.”

  “It pulled over to this side of the street and stopped in front of this house.”

  “Do you have another knockout grenade?” A surge of exhilaration—or was that terror?—raced through Ridge’s veins at the idea of springing a trap. Could they yet surprise him? Throw it as he came through the door?

  “Yes, but more than one person is getting out of the vehicle. It’s too dark to make out faces, but they’re all wearing army uniforms.”

  Ridge cursed. Knocking Therrik unconscious was one thing, but he couldn’t attack an entire squad of soldiers. What were they all doing coming to visit so late at night, anyway? As much as he would like to accuse Therrik of hosting drunken orgies, Ridge hadn’t seen any alcohol in the kitchen, and the wall decor hinted more of hobbies that involved war games and firing squads.

  “I’m getting out of here before they see me,” Tolemek said, his voice on the move. He was already halfway to the kitchen.

  As much as Ridge hated the idea of fleeing before he found what he needed, he couldn’t think of anything else to do. Maybe they would get another chance at Therrik if they hid outside for a couple more hours.

  He remembered the broken window—and the shattered glass and tea canister that would be lying on the bedroom floor—at the same time as he spotted lanterns moving out in the yard beyond the kitchen. Those lanterns were attached to soldiers, military police, the black caps said.

  Ridge stifled a groan. The broken window. Someone must have heard it and reported it.

  Tolemek cursed under his breath, his hand on the back doorknob. Two of the soldiers were heading straight for the house. “We can’t go out there now.”

  “Well, we can’t—”

  The front doorknob turned.

  Ridge veered toward the bedroom, grabbing Tolemek and pulling him along. “Watch out for glass,” he breathed. The front door opened, and he dared not speak again.

  Inside the bedroom, he stretched toward the ceiling. There was an access panel to a small attic in his house. He used it for storage. Maybe they could swing up and… no, he didn’t feel it. Apparently, the houses weren’t exactly the same.

  Light from the lanterns came through the broken window. A knock sounded at the back door.

  “What is it?” came Therrik’s irritated voice from the front room.

  Ridge looked around for a hiding place. Tolemek was kneeling, patting at the ground. Looking for his tin? Most of the chemical smell had dissipated, so maybe Therrik wouldn�
��t notice it.

  Footsteps sounded in the living room—Therrik heading for the back door. The bedroom door had been open when Ridge came in, so he dared not close it. He started for the closet on the far side of the room, but a shadow moved outside of the window—one of the MPs peering in. Ridge pushed his back to a wall and sank to the floor. The bed. It was large and high. Maybe he could squeeze under it.

  The idea of being found under there by the military police or Therrik himself made him cringe—what in all the realms would he say? Everyone was sure to come in to investigate, and Ridge and Tolemek would be found. Maybe it was better to turn himself in now.

  Even as he had the thought, Ridge flattened himself to his belly and pulled himself under the bed. Glass cut into his palms. He doubtlessly deserved that. This whole infiltration was an idiotic farce. Why had he ever thought he could manage it? He should have sent Kaika. She knew how to infiltrate secret laboratories and outposts. A bedroom would have been no problem.

  He wasn’t able to push himself as far under the bed as he wished, because a long wooden box lay in the way. He did not want to risk it audibly scraping against the floorboards, so he didn’t move it.

  Warm air brushed against Ridge’s face as he settled in under the bed, his legs and arms pulled as far from the sides as he could manage. It took him a moment to realize that he wasn’t alone, that he was face-to-face with his infiltration partner. Ridge was tempted to ask why Tolemek hadn’t gone to the closet, since he had been closer to it, but he dared not speak now. When he turned his head, he could see boots through the doorway, gleaming dully as the polished tips reflected lantern light in the kitchen. Therrik’s boots.

  Therrik had opened the back door. “What is it?”

  Another set of boots, smaller ones, joined his, the owner close enough to look out past Therrik. Ridge could hear at least two more people in the living room. Someone groaned, perhaps sitting down in a chair. It was a man’s groan, an old man, Ridge judged.

  “Someone reported vandalism, sir,” an earnest young MP said. “We came to investigate.”

  The soldier must have pointed toward the bedroom, because both sets of boots strode toward it.

  Ridge winced as lantern light stole some of the shadows. Glass crunched under boots. A hand appeared, the MP bending to pick up a shard. Ridge held stiller than a corpse. All it would take was for that man to drop to his knees and look under the bed. His only hope was that the soldier wouldn’t think to do that or, if he did think of it, would decide against it, since he would end up with glass in his knees. Still, Ridge sucked in his belly and avoided looking toward anyone on the off chance that they could feel eyes upon them. Given the number of people who had tried to kill Therrik during his career, he probably had very honed instincts.

  “Probably those kids again, sir,” the MP said.

  Again? Had Therrik’s windows been broken more than once?

  “Kids.” Therrik grunted. “Right.”

  Ridge grimaced. He didn’t sound like he believed that.

  Soft thumps sounded, like someone patting someone else on the back. “Vann,” a woman said, “maybe you should be kinder to those young privates so they don’t feel the need to retaliate every time you leave your house.”

  That voice was familiar. Ridge tried to place it at the same time as he smirked at the idea of Therrik’s house being the target of frequent vandalism.

  “Maybe the MPs should do their job and not let vandals wander through officer housing,” Therrik growled, stepping away from the woman.

  “Sorry, sir,” the MP said. “We came as quickly as we could, and my men are looking around outside of the house to see if they find signs of the culprit.”

  Or culprits? Ridge hoped the grass hadn’t been muddy enough that his and Tolemek’s prints were all over the yard.

  “At least they didn’t paint lewd pictures on your siding this time,” the woman said.

  Her voice clicked for Ridge. General Arelia Chason, commander of the Third Signal Brigade. They had their headquarters here in the capital. What was she doing spending time with Therrik? And calling him Vann? Disgusting.

  You haven’t had any relationships with senior officers? Jaxi asked, her unexpected arrival in his mind almost making him crack his head on the bed.

  The MPs were walking around the room again, so Ridge dared not so much as take a deep breath.

  A few times, but I’m not Therrik. I’m… He thought about pointing out that he was much better looking and more charismatic, but Jaxi would have a snide comment for that.

  Arrogant? she suggested. Maybe she had heard his unvoiced thought.

  Nice to spend time with, Ridge responded firmly. Is there something you want? This isn’t the best time.

  Sardelle asked me to check in on you. I’ll let her know that you’re cozied up under a bed with Tolemek. She may find that disturbing.

  She’d only find it disturbing if we were getting cozy in the bed.

  If you say so, hero.

  A thump sounded, Therrik dropping something on a dresser. Belatedly, it occurred to Ridge that he might have asked Jaxi for help. He wasn’t sure how far away she could extend her powers, but if she could talk to him, maybe she could brush the minds of others around him, make them think they heard a noise outside and needed to go investigate.

  “Do you have any idea who might have wished to vandalize your house, sir?” the MP asked.

  “No,” Therrik said.

  Everyone, Ridge thought.

  “Very well, sir. If I can use your kitchen for a moment, I’ll write up my report.”

  “Use my kitchen? We’re having a meeting, corporal. Take your ill-trained troops outside and look for people carrying rocks around.”

  “Er, yes, sir.” The MP clomped out and exited through the back door.

  Ridge couldn’t relax, not with Therrik still in the room, but he hoped this meant nobody would investigate further. Dust lurked under the bed, and his nostrils kept twitching. He wanted to raise his fingers to his nose, but Therrik might hear even the faintest rustle of clothing.

  “I’m going to need to board this up,” Therrik said, “and get a broom to clean up this mess.”

  Ridge clenched his jaw. If Therrik started cleaning, he would doubtlessly end up sweeping under the bed. He was sure to notice the unusual lumps on the floor. Even if he didn’t, he would go to sleep eventually, and then how would Ridge and Tolemek escape?

  “Not now,” General Chason said. “Roalin and Arstonhamer are waiting. They’ll think we’re back here having a tryst.”

  “With the MPs watching? I didn’t know I had that kind of reputation.”

  Both pairs of boots left the bedroom and turned toward the living room, then disappeared from Ridge’s sight. Unfortunately, in the small house, they couldn’t go far. A few more chairs creaked as people sat down.

  Ridge had no idea how he and Tolemek were going to sneak out of the house, but if he could hear the words of this late-night meeting, he might gather some of that intel he had hoped to find. Unless Therrik had brought these people over to play dice and drink. That would be disappointing. And surprising. General Arstonhamer ran the infantry brigade, the one Therrik came from, and Roalin had to be Colonel Roalin Porthlok, head of the local intelligence battalion. Ridge knew all of these people from various social gatherings, but he wouldn’t presume to invite any of them over for a chat. Even if it had to be the least important thing to worry about now, it rankled him that Therrik apparently was someone who could invite them over for a chat.

  “All right, Therrik,” Chason said, her voice stern now, back to business. “What’s the latest update with the queen?”

  “And why are there only three fliers sitting up in that hangar?” one of the men asked. “The city is practically defenseless if the Cofah show up.”

  Only three fliers? Ridge’s fingers curled into a fist. Where was all of his equipment? And his people?

  Therrik sighed. “She wanted them sent to cir
cle the continent and deal with pirate uprisings.”

  “All of them? Why? And why our squadrons? There are flier outposts in all of the major provinces. They can deal with their own pirates. That’s why they’re there. Leaving the capital—the most populous and most economically viable city in the country—vulnerable to attack is ludicrous.”

  “We have ground troops, sir.” Therrik sounded like he was grinding his teeth while speaking. Good. He deserved it, since he always made Ridge feel that way when speaking to him.

  But if Ridge wasn’t careful, his own teeth would start grinding. He agreed with whoever that was who was talking—Arstonhamer probably. With the king missing, this was not the time to leave the city poorly guarded. What in the hells would ground troops do if the Cofah came in with airships?

  “Ground troops.” Arstonhamer made a spitting sound. “The Cofah haven’t tried a ground invasion for more than twenty years. We need the fliers here. And Breyatah’s Breath, where is Colonel Zirkander?”

  Ridge rolled his eyes. Right here, sir…

  “Cavorting with a witch,” Therrik growled. “Listen, sir. The fliers aren’t gone indefinitely. The queen wanted them sent on a very specific mission.”

  “Against pirates.” Arstonhamer sounded skeptical.

  Therrik hesitated. “Yes, sir. She has spies and—”

  “Spies? Is that woman truly in charge in there, Therrik? She’s never shown a political leaning in her life. Nobody believes someone isn’t pulling her strings. You’re scratching her itch. You tell us.”

  “I’m not scratching anything for her, sir,” Therrik bit out, even more stiffly than before. “I’m loyal to the king.”

  “Of course you are, and that’s why she’s made you her most trusted military liaison. An infantry colonel known for losing his temper and beating privates.”

  Ridge imagined he could hear the sound of Therrik’s grinding teeth from here. He supposed he shouldn’t feel pleased at hearing Therrik being chewed out, but he did, damn it. If he hadn’t been hiding under the bed, wondering how long he could go without using the latrine, he would have felt extremely smug about the entire situation. He was rescinding his earlier envy over the fact that Therrik got to spend time with important senior officers; this was an interrogation, not a gaming night.