Quillan grabbed a very small long-handled brush from a drawer below the mirror, applied some sort of . . . paste to it, and began rubbing it across his teeth. Through foam, he muttered, “They provide reusable toothbrushes just like they did at the Smith Craft Hall.”
Chanté glanced at the open drawer of ‘toothbrushes’ and grimaced. “Reusable? Others have used them?”
Quillan chuckled. “They are cleaned and magically sanitized before being placed back in those drawers.”
Not entirely sure he was happy about it, Chanté grabbed a toothbrush and imitated the machinist.
Side-by-side, they brushed their teeth in front of the mirror. For some reason, Quillan had a smile on his face the entire time.
Once they were done brushing their teeth, Quillan ‘shaved.’ The process looked more than a little dangerous, what with the use of that very sharp blade.
Chanté picked up another blade, but Quillan told him he needn’t bother, as he had only peach fuzz. Unsure what that meant, Chanté grunted and set it back down.
After Quillan rinsed off his face, they put on their shirts, Quillan showed him where the toilets were, and then they headed off for the Guildmaster’s office to learn what chores they’d have after breakfast.
“You,” Renata pointed to Quillan, “are to assist the smiths in getting a new room ready. A room for your own use.”
The excited look on Quillan’s face, the way his brows rose, made Chanté smile.
“My own use?”
“You’re going to be our machine engineer, yes? You’ll need specialist tools and equipment, no doubt, so you get your own room.” She wagged a finger at him. “It’s not especially large, but it should serve your needs.”
“Excellent!” Quillan smiled and turned to him.
“And your chore,” Renata continued, pointing to Chanté, “at least for today, is to obtain a bison to be butchered. We’ve got four young dragons to feed at the moment, Nelli, Xoc, Citlali and Tenoch.”
“A bison?” Chanté looked from her to Quillan and back.
She raised a brow. “You know, those giant, extra-furry cows?”
Chanté shook his head. “N–No, I’m familiar with them, my question is . . . how do I obtain one, exactly?”
“Fly north or east to the plains and find a good-sized bison in one of the herds out there—not the leader of a herd, though. Use Neilah’s Constriction on its skull, it’s less traumatic for the bison that way, then levitate the carcass back here.”
“Neilah’s Constriction?”
Her brows drew together for a moment, then rose. “Ah, that’s right, you’re new. It’s a combat spell. Let’s go to the Magic Craft classroom and I’ll teach it to you.”
Once she led them there, she removed a pair of bracelets from a desk drawer and motioned Chanté over. Quillan, looking intensely interested, followed him.
“These are training bracelets,” she said, snapping one on her wrist and the other on his.
Symbols made of light rose from their surfaces, rotated around the bracelets, then sank back in.
“Using them will allow you to see any spells I weave.” She stared at him. “Do not attempt to modify this spell. The Guildmaster said you are very adept at sorcery, so I’ll trust that you understand the dangers in tampering with dangerous spells. Just study and memorize it. Understand?”
Chanté nodded. He turned his wrist this way and that, examining the bracelet. About half an inch wide, the flat metal band had a long, thin chain connecting it to its twin.
Renata grabbed a bowl of apples from the side of the desk and slid it closer. She removed an apple from within, placed it on the desk, and said, “Observe.” She began weaving the spell.
Chanté saw the clouds of magic determination swirl about the apple, and he began sensing their various flavors. A strong saltiness predominated, sodium chloride, with hints of lemon and a few sweet notes, too. He watched as the spell completed, marking well its structure and components.
The apple twitched and a small amount of juice shot from it onto them. The top third of the apple slid off, cut cleanly at an angle.
“Oops.” Renata brushed at the damp spots on her tunic. “I should have placed a barrier around it. Let’s try that again.”
Two apples later, and Chanté was able to repeat the spell himself. Four apples after that, Renata was apparently satisfied with his weaving.
“Excellent,” she said. “Now, both of you head off to breakfast so you aren’t late to your chores.”
As she removed his bracelet, Chanté thought back to her instructions to use this spell on a bison’s head and experienced several powerful emotions.
She glanced at him. “Are you okay? You’re a little green.”
Chanté looked at her. “T–The idea of doing that to a bison makes me . . . a little uncomfortable.”
Her gaze softened. “As it should. But that is part of life. In order for something or someone to eat, something else must die, plant or animal.”
She was right, of course. That was the way of this world, this universe. Still, he’d never really thought about it before, never . . . felt it before. And this strange sympathy he had for the bison, what was that? The thing was merely a beast, a big, furry cow as Renata had said. Even so, he imagined someone using the spell on him, and his stomach suddenly clenched, sending something hot and bitter up his throat before he forcefully swallowed it back down.
“We must eat,” Renata said, “so we must kill. However, we should also respect that which provides us with life. We never kill for no purpose.” She shrugged. “Some don’t think about such things. They don’t have to. They go into a tavern, say, and buy a bowl of stew. All they see, all they know, is that tasty dish. But when you have to hunt, to kill for yourself, you fully understand the cycle of life.”
She smiled. “And you shouldn’t feel bad for being uncomfortable. It’s human nature, after all.”
Chanté blinked. Human nature? He glanced at Quillan, who nodded.
At the cafeteria, Quillan led them to a spot toward the end of the table where the members of class two were sitting.
Chanté sat and removed his breakfast from the tray. He glanced at Quillan and said, “There are a lot of things I don’t understand about myself and about people. I guess from being . . . apart as I was before. I wonder if I seem odd.”
Quillan bit a strip of bacon. “There’s nothing wrong with being different.”
A little smile curved Chanté’s lips. “Still, there are times when I feel things that I don’t understand. Nantli has been helpful, but I fear that I might, I don’t know, react badly, or strangely, or even . . .” His brows drew together as he recalled the reaction he’d had earlier. “Panic.”
Quillan nodded. “I see. I have had times when something happened that surprised me, knocked me off my feet, so to speak.” He looked down at his plate. “When my parents divorced, it was terrifying. It seemed my entire world was crumbling around me. Like you said, I felt things that I had no name for. The night they sat us down and explained what was happening, I panicked.” He turned to Chanté. “My dad taught me a trick to help.”
“A trick?”
“Yeah. If I ever feel like I’m losing control, scared or something, it helps me out.”
Chanté leaned closer. “What’s the trick?”
“Try to clear your thoughts then take a deep breath, slowly. Focus on the air filling your lungs as you breathe in. Hold that breath for a few seconds and then breathe out, slowly, thinking on the air leaving. Keep doing that a few times, and it’ll help you calm down.”
It seemed so simple. Would that really help? “Does it work?”
Quillan smiled. “It’s worked for me.”
Chanté nodded. He’d keep that trick in mind.
+ + + + +
“I wish I could go with you.”
Fillion looked up from stuffing things in his backpack. “Why don’t you? It might be fun.”
“As much as I’d lo
ve to,” Gregor said, “Master Gella only asked for you. Again.” He frowned. “I wouldn’t have an excuse to not go to lessons, anyway. And besides, I have a meeting with the Guildmaster in a couple of hours to talk about a Healing Craft lesson I’m assisting with later this week.”
“Ah, well. Maybe another time, then?”
Gregor shrugged and twisted his lips.
Fillion closed his pack, grabbed it, then walked over and stood in front of Gregor.
After a moment looking up at him, he poked Gregor in the stomach, and when the tall young man bent over in a laugh, Fillion lifted up a little on his toes to give him a quick kiss. “I wish you could go with us, too.”
Gregor reached over with his good hand, held the back of Fillion’s head, and took a longer time of it.
Afterward, Fillion was sorely tempted to be late meeting Master Gella. It took a few moments before his racing heart returned to beating close to normal.
Gregor smiled and called out, “Coatl, you keep him safe, hear me?”
An affirmative bark came down the short hallway from the den.
“Go on,” Gregor said, still smiling. “You shouldn’t keep a master waiting.”
Face still quite warm, Fillion cleared his throat. “Right.” He hurried in the den and stowed the backpack in one of Coatl’s saddlebags.
“Kisa,” he murmured, turning to her, “you keep an eye on him, okay?”
The smaller dragon gave a happy chirp.
Fillion climbed into the saddle, and Coatl headed out to the ledge. Before he could change his mind, Fillion quickly opened a portal.
They emerged one hundred feet above the police building in Stronghold. Master Gella had said to come directly here and meet her inside. After closing the portal, he glanced down at the roof of the building and spied the hatch that opened on the ladder. The thing was very obvious in the daytime.
Coatl banked down and landed near it.
Fillion grabbed his pack from the saddlebag and patted Coatl on the shoulder. See you in a bit.
The big dragon rumbled and curled up for a nap.
After closing the hatch, Fillion climbed down the ladder and hopped to the floor. Just then a man stepped in front of the little alcove, giving him a terrible fright.
Fillion?
The man stared at him, brows raised. “And you are?” Big, well-muscled, and with a very cold gaze, he looked dangerous.
“Apprentice Dragonlinked Fillion.” He stared at the big man. “S–Sir.”
The man’s demeanor changed. With a smile, he said, “Ah, excellent. Master Gella is waiting for you in the meeting room.” He stepped to the side, out of sight.
Do you need me?
Yrdra’s ice-cold tits! Fillion took a breath and let it out. No, big guy, I’m okay. Someone gave me a scare, is all. He felt Coatl lay back down.
Alright.
Not entirely sure how Coatl thought he would have helped—would he have torn open the roof and jumped down into the building?—Fillion walked out of the alcove.
The man, sitting in a chair to the right, looked at him, raised a hand, and gestured with it toward the left.
Fillion nodded and glanced up and down the hallway. It was just as empty as it had been the last time. There wasn’t a lot of activity in the special investigator offices, it seemed. But thinking about it, most of them probably spent a great deal of their time out on their various investigations. Though, wouldn’t they need clerks or some-such, too? Perhaps all that kind of work was handled behind the doors of that side-room by the stairs leading down to the police floors. That man who’d been seated at the desk there had seemed . . . clerk-y. Assuming that was even a word.
When he reached the meeting room at end of the hallway, Fillion glanced at his wrist-watch, did the mental math, and smiled in satisfaction. Right on time. He knocked and walked in.
The same people sat around the table, save the girl, as the last time he was here.
“While he was seen with one of the criers, they say he hasn’t really revealed anything actionable yet.” Master Gella glanced at him before continuing. “I’ve nevertheless told them to continue watching him. And now that Fillion and Coatl are here, I’ll be heading off.”
As Master Gella walked over to him, the others continued to talk quietly amongst themselves.
She nodded at him. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Master Gella. Was that Tobin you were talking about?”
“It was.”
“I see. Have you learned anything about those shipments Preeti mentioned?”
“No. Interestingly, the shipping company had no records on the barrels. There was no mention anywhere of them being received at the warehouse nor was there a record of them being shipped out. Seems a bit suspicious, doesn’t it?”
Fillion grunted. “Should we ask Tobin if he knows where they were shipped?”
“From the police investigation, it seems only his brother worked for the shipping company. Tobin works primarily as an usher at the Theater for the Performing Arts, though he appears to do a few other jobs as well. One of those seems to be assisting at least one of the criers.”
Fillion raised his brows. So he had heard right. “He works for the criers?”
“Well, he handed out flyers at one of them.”
“So he’s involved with them?”
“The police have only been tailing him for about a day, so it’s difficult to say, but for now I don’t think it’s too likely. There are a number of people handing out those flyers at the criers around the city, even children. Perhaps with Preeti now part of the household he needs more money than what the theater position alone provides and took work handing out pamphlets.”
“Hmm.” Fillion tilted his head. “You know? I’ve never seen an actual play, myself.”
“Oh, the performance theater holds more than just plays. You can go there for symphonies, dance, virtuoso concerts, and other kinds of performances, too, though mostly for the well-to-do.”
“I see.” He nodded. “You know, I’m a little surprised that you’re involved, the special investigators are involved, with looking into Tobin. I thought you were more focused on the rumor-mongers.”
“Oh, we remain focused on them,” she said. “It’s the police that are in charge of investigating Tobin. I do have a . . . feeling about him, though, so I’ve been keeping an eye on their progress. While the police aren’t as skillful at tailing as J—” She blinked.
Fillion lifted a brow. Had she almost used an investigator’s name?
She chuckled. “As some of us, they’ll serve for now keeping an eye on Tobin to determine whether his involvement with the criers is deeper. At any rate, I want to see if Coatl can learn something for me.”
Fillion drew his brows together. “Coatl?”
She smiled. “Indeed. Shall we go?”
Flying through Stronghold at closer to ground level was a vastly different experience. A hand on his left shoulder and her chin practically resting on his right, Master Gella directed him and Coatl down one street after another. He’d suggested flying above all the buildings, but she said it was easier for her to direct them to their destination from this height.
She explained that it would take more flying for her to get used to finding her way at altitude. “Things look different up here than from the ground!”
That suited him fine. It was exhilarating flying between the buildings, watching the windows whip past, some with people staring out, surprised expressions of their faces. When Coatl’s shadow passed over people below, they turned up and stared. He even seemed to be enjoying himself as he’d let out a happy rumble every now and again.
“There.” Master Gella pointed to a large building at an intersection of streets ahead. “See if he can set down somewhere near there.”
There is a clear area by the side of that building with no horses or people at the moment. See if you can land there. ’Ware the sides of the buildings, though. Don’t injure your wings on them.
/>
That is a good spot. Coatl rumbled and angled down.
Startled people stopped and stared as the enormous dragon landed in the entrance to the alley beside the building. Fillion caught the word ‘dragon’ a few times.
“We’re not leaving him out in the street, are we? I don’t like the idea of all these people staring at him or bothering him.”
“No. And, actually, this landing spot is perfect. The door we want is in this alley.” She dismounted.
Fillion hopped off, still eyeing the gathering crowd of people. Keep watch for anyone thinking of doing anything stupid.
I will.
“This way.” Master Gella headed further down the wide alley.
About sixty feet in, she stopped at a pair of large doors and knocked. She had to knock again before someone opened the right door a crack.
“What do you want? This entrance is for shipping and receiving only.”
Master Gella showed the woman her identification. “We’re here to ask for your assistance, actually.”
The woman looked up from the small leather holder. “I see. How can we help you, Special Investigator?”
“I understand that your shop has one of the largest selections of chemicals and compounds in the city.”
“Stronghold Alchemy Supply does pride itself on being the city’s largest alchemy shop, yes.”
“I’ve come across a compound that I’d like to compare to what you have available.”
The woman drew her brows together. “There are hundreds of compounds. Thousands. We don’t supply them all, not even a fraction of them.”
Master Gella frowned. “Hmm. Even so, I’d like to try.”
“As you wish. Come in, please.” The woman opened the door open a bit more and apparently saw Coatl for the first time. She stared, mouth open, eyes wide.
Master Gella caught her look. “He’s coming in with us.”
“W–Well, there’s not that much room, and there are a number of very delicate containers and instruments—”
Coatl leaned toward her. I will be careful.
Of Gods, Trees, and a Sapling: Dragonlinked Chronicles Volume 4 Page 15
