Sharrah snapped the notebook closed. “It’s confirmed.”
Guildmaster Millinith frowned. “So it is.” She turned to Chanté and stared at him.
The white-haired boy looked uncomfortable.
Is Chanté that worried about what we learned?
He worries about seeming different. He is also concerned that he knows too much.
Jessip raised his brows. Chanté was embarrassed about being smart? Jessip had always been worried about the complete opposite. Though, once he actually tried—Aeron’s advice from a while back—the lessons weren’t as difficult as he’d once thought.
“We’ll need to adjust all nahual patrols, immediately,” Master Doronal said. “They should all begin just after sunset, I’m thinking, when nahual start being active.”
“On the bright side,” Cheddar said, “it’ll free up day hours for other tasks.”
Jessip grunted. “Yeah, like sleeping after a night-time patrol.”
Renata let out a breath and rolled her eyes at him.
“We all need to be ready in case we run across a previously undetected nahual,” Aeron said.
“What do you mean?” Renata asked.
“The way nahual patrols have been scheduled so far,” Guildmaster Millinith said, “the routes were always run in the same order.”
“Because of that,” Aeron said, “certain routes were only ever flown during the day.”
Jessip grunted and Renata turned to him with a worried expression.
He stared at her. “That means there could be any number of nahual that were missed.”
Chapter 10
Therday, Quartus 28, 1875.
Early Morning.
“I’m not certain about this.”
Trying to remain patient, Fala stared at Kwatoko. It rankled how spineless he was. “You’ll have plenty of time,” she said. “You’ll not be in any danger, assuming you don’t dally once you prepare it.”
“It’s just that we were always warned to—”
“We are taking advantage of that which prompted those instructions in the first place.”
She’d do it herself if not for two things. First, owing to the accidents she’d been arranging, the Observers were likely on high alert, and as she’d been quite vocal in her opposition to dragons since departing the damned place, her sudden appearance anywhere within Bataan-Mok would definitely be noted. And second, she wanted to see the villager’s reactions herself. Too often, her followers would make a report on an event sound more favorable than it actually was. She’d see the unfolding of this with her own eyes. There might even be some people she could recruit. Her journey to Pashi must start now, however, if she hoped to arrive before the shipment.
“Just do as I instructed,” she said. “Once you’re close, prepare the bundle and tie it tight. Make sure you screw the lid back on the flask firmly and be careful not to get any on you—the scent is strong. Then put the bundle in the satchel and quickly head inside Bataan-Mok. Go to the shipping area and ask for Orith. Give him the satchel, tell him ‘The desert loves Pashi,’ and come back. Simplicity itself.”
Kwatoko rubbed his large nose and sighed. “I remember.”
“Good,” she said. “Leave now. That should have you in Bataan-Mok with about an hour before the morning shipments leave, giving Orith time to get our package in the proper wagon while he helps load it.”
She turned for the door. “I’m on my way as well.”
+ + + + +
Liara walked down the hallway. The feel of the loose robe on her bare skin—an occasional brush against arms, abdomen, and legs—was almost like a light touch from someone. It was a little sensual. The riding gear that she’d grown accustomed to wearing the past few months was much closer-fitting and offered a very different sensory experience.
Polandra was in another meeting, so Liara thought she’d spend some time walking about Bataan-Mok in a kind of tour of her own. The walls in the hallways were a bit more bare than they had been. Most of the hangings—tapestries or sketches or paintings—had been anti-dragon in one way or another, so had been removed for sale or otherwise. Even so, the place remained impressive. Vases or urns sat upon stands here and there, as did various small statues. The intricately carved figures were of people or animals, mostly. And there were still a few hangings to be seen, as well. The things she found most beautiful, however, were the floors. The marble they were made from seemed to almost glow with an inner light whenever sunlight happened to strike it.
In fact, a small patch of sunlight lit the floor ahead. It came in from the exit to Dragon Square. Her lips curved in a rueful smile. She’d unconsciously made her way to the plaza, to her bond-mate.
Hi, gorgeous. Liara walked over and, on tip-toes, wrapped her arms as far around Mia’s neck as she could.
Mia tilted her head. You feel . . . depressed.
I am a little, I suppose.
You miss Polandra.
Liara chuckled. I do. Is that silly? It’s only been a little over an hour since she left for the meeting.
I would not say it is silly.
Liara patted Mia’s neck and leaned back against her large foreleg.
She wanted to like it here in this enormous building-city, Bataan-Mok. It had been a large part of Polandra’s life, after all. And while Liara thought it beautiful, the place still felt like something other than home. Like somewhere you visit but don’t necessarily want to stay for long. It wasn’t quite as bad as it was before the changes, but this slightly alien feel was why she didn’t like being without Polandra.
Why was it taking so long, anyway? Polandra’s meeting had to do with the Order’s—no, the guild’s—sales agreement with one of the villages for the strong rope made from agave fibers. How long did it take to go over a contract?
Liara frowned. There were a number of things that the former Order was involved with that had very little to do with the Dragon Craft Guild. Rather than a guild branch, Bataan-Mok was actually more like a large caer.
Some of the unease she felt here could be because she now understood the true enormity of the task Guildmaster Millinith had taken on. That, and while everyone here was busy with one thing or another, whenever she came here now, she spent the time doing mostly nothing. Since uncovering what was going on at the marble quarry—almost two weeks ago!—there’d been no more progress on learning where Fala was, nor in learning what other plans the woman might have. With no clues as to who, what, or where to investigate, there wasn’t much Liara could do until something new was discovered. Hells, if it weren’t for the enchanting shifts that had started, Liara would have no real reason for coming here, other than wanting to see Polandra when she could.
She let out a breath. Damn that Fala woman. Where in hells was she?
We will find her.
Liara turned to Mia. I hope so. You haven’t overheard thoughts from anyone who knows where that woman is, have you?
I would have told you if I had.
She smiled. Of course.
A child stepped from around the corner of a stack of marble blocks. “Hello, Liara.”
It took a moment before she recognized him. “Lonato.”
The boy had been Cirtis’s pesan. Did he still serve as the man’s assistant? Though short, the hair he was apparently now letting grow made a larger difference in the boy’s appearance than she would have expected.
“I thought this would be a good place to meet with you,” he said.
Liara drew her brows together. “What do you mean?”
He glanced about at the people who watched Mia and Ikan. “Many come to see the dragons, so it would not seem peculiar for me to drop by now and again.”
“Why do you not want to stand out?”
“I’m helping look for Fala.”
“What? But you’re so young! A child shouldn’t be doing such dangerous work.”
He drew his brows together and glared. “I’m not a child. I’m eleven. And I have as much right to protect
Bataan-Mok as anyone. It’s my home.”
His fierce gaze and determination tugged at her heart. Did every boy here have to remind her so much of her brother? She let out a quiet breath. “Even so, why you? There are many looking for her.”
“And she likely knows all of them. I am, I was, a pesan.” He gestured. “Look around. They’re everywhere, and because of that, they go mostly ignored. She and her people probably never learned who I am, never bothered paying attention to me. Thus, I can move about much more freely.”
Much as she didn’t like a child involved with all this, he made a great deal of sense. “And why did you want to meet with me?”
“As I said, it won’t seem completely out of the ordinary for me to stop by occasionally.” He gestured again, this time to those who slowed or stood nearby, watching Mia and Ikan. “I can act like them and report to you here every few days on my progress, and you can tell the others.”
“I see. Have you made any progress?”
He fidgeted. “N–No. But I’ve made inquiries and some former pesani are helping me, too. We’ll find her soon enough.”
“I hope so. She’s causing a lot of trouble.”
“And that just may be her downfall.”
“Oh?”
“There are many who dislike the damage she’s been causing and her disregard for people’s newfound lives. Someone will eventually spot her, tell us, and we’ll have her.”
Mia let out a pleased rumble. Lonato has a strength of heart that is commendable.
Liara nodded. That he does.
She and Lonato spent a few minutes going over their schedules to plan out when they could ‘accidentally’ meet.
Lonato nodded. “Good. I will see you again in two days.”
“Just . . . be careful,” Liara pleaded. “There’s no telling what that woman and her people might do.”
+ + + + +
The bread was the best thing she’d eaten in over a month. Fala tore off another piece and ate it, thoroughly enjoying its warm, fluffy goodness. The incredible smell of baking bread had drawn her to the shop, and she’d bought a small, fresh loaf. It was money very well spent.
In high spirits, she walked along the dirt street which the wagon would arrive on. A roof overhang provided a strip of shade on the side of a building not too far from the village limits, and she sat there, finishing the perfectly baked bread. Popping the last of it in her mouth, she dusted crumbs off the front of her robe and then looked around, watching people while she waited for the wagon.
The villagers looked about the same as before the fall of the Order. There were perhaps more of them that had newer clothing, and some buildings and homes she’d seen seemed to be in better repair, but as it had been decades since she’d spent more than a fleeting amount of time at any one village, there was no telling what had brought about the changes, nor when.
Yawning, she leaned back against the wall and continued her people-watching. A gentle breeze kept the day from being too hot and made it quite pleasant in the shade.
Laughing children woke her up.
Blinking, she leaned over and glanced up at the sun beyond the edge of the roof. Almost an hour had passed. Though now fully rested, had the pleasant nap caused her to miss the wagon arriving?
She stood and straightened her robe. Once back at the street, she looked over at the store that would receive the shipment. No wagons were parked in front or on either side of the far shop, and, too, the people walking about didn’t seem agitated or concerned in any way. It seemed she hadn’t missed the arrival of the wagon.
Perhaps she could spy the accursed thing on the road. Turning to head for the village limits, she saw the wagon just arriving and smiled. Though the Corpus Order was no more, the fact that they still used the same uniforms made her happy. Something yet remained at least. And it would all return, if she had her way.
The driver clucked at the horses as the wagon slowly passed her. Two workers sat on the bench next to him, young men, looking bored. Brows drawn together, she followed discreetly as they made their way along the dirt street.
What had happened? She saw no burn marks anywhere on the wagon, and the driver and workers didn’t appear out of sorts, so it seemed nothing had occurred on the way here. Her gaze darting over the merchandise stacked in the back revealed nothing amiss, either. Had she mistimed how long it would take for the bundle to react? Had Kwatoko failed, or lost his spine? Had that bitch dragon-lover somehow learned of their plans? Those questions and more plagued her as the wagon slowly made its way to the shop.
The driver stopped the wagon in front of the store and he and the workers hopped down. The driver spoke quietly to the workers and went into the building.
Fala frowned. What had happened?
The driver returned from inside the shop, followed by two men. Fala moved closer, under a nearby awning, and watched. One of the young workers climbed up in the back of the wagon and began handing items down to the other who set them on the ground. The men from the shop then carried the items into the store.
Fala ground her teeth. Something must have gone wrong. She was about to turn and leave, when the horses caught her attention. They seemed nervous, were nickering at each other and shaking their heads.
The worker in the wagon stopped what he was doing, stood, and sniffed the air. “What’s that smell?”
“What smell?” The other worker looked up at him.
“Does it smell like something’s burning?”
“Now you mention it, I do smell that.”
The young man in the wagon looked around at the nearby buildings, then shrugged and lifted up another cloth bundle. Smoke billowed up from beneath and blew toward the rear, carried by the breeze.
Fala smiled and took a step closer.
“What in hells?” The worker stepped back, just as flame burst forth.
The worker on the ground turned toward the shop. “Fire!”
The horses became highly agitated, whinnying and nickering even louder. The blinders kept them from seeing behind, but the scent of smoke and the fear in the voice of the worker had unsettled them.
“Pissing blades!” The driver hurried to the horses, trying to keep them from bolting.
The young man in the wagon dropped the bundle of cloth and turned to leap to the ground, but he became tangled in something. He fell, and turning on his back, tried to free his foot, yanking his leg over and over. He finally jerked free, but in the process pulled a stack of rope bundles over. The fire leapt higher and from many places.
Fala watched closely. The candles that were in the satchel must be doing their work. Their melted wax, adding fuel, was spreading underneath everything.
The young man jumped free just as the back of the wagon was almost completely engulfed in flame. He hurried around to join the others in attempting to keep the horses from full panic.
People carrying buckets pushed their way through the crowd that had started to gather. “Move aside, fools!”
Water was flung onto the wagon and a bucket line began to form. Over and over, the man at the front of the line threw water into the fire, tossing the empty bucket aside and grabbing a full one from the person in line behind. It had taken too long, however. By the time the fire was out, much of the wagon and its contents yet to be unloaded were destroyed.
The shop owner was livid. “How did this happen?”
“Sir,” the first worker said, “we smelled smoke, and then flames started.”
“Fire doesn’t just start on its own!”
“What was in the shipment?” The man, standing at the edge of the crowd, looked like a manis, though he didn’t wear their uniform.
The owner turned to him. “Cloth and rope from the Order, that is, from Bataan-Mok. Why?”
The man frowned. “If that was all that was in the shipment, I agree that a fire couldn’t have just started on its own.”
“Someone started it deliberately.” The owner turned to the workers.
�
��Sir, I hope you don’t think it was us!”
“We would never do such a thing,” the younger of the workers said. “Now we’re going to have to do extra work to replace this!”
This was her chance. Fala stepped forward. “Perhaps it was Ulthis, punishing those dragon-lovers who’ve taken over Bataan-Mok and besmirched all Daelon worked for.”
“Ulthis?” The driver scoffed. “Has the heat gotten to you, woman?”
Fala pointed to him. “Ulthis is punishing you and the dragon guild!”
He frowned at her. “Tell your tales elsewhere. We’ve got work to do here.”
“I’ll warrant it was the same jackasses who’ve been causing all the accidents.” The youngest worker shook his head.
Fala was furious. Why weren’t they happy? “This was a good thing,” she said. “The guild should be driven away. They are a blight on our land!”
The shop owner looked at her.
“A blight?” the driver said. “The guild still gives us a roof over our heads, gives us food and clothing, but they pay us much more than the pittance we got as an allowance from the Order.”
“Exactly,” the youngest worker said. “I get enough now that I can send some to my mother and sister here in Pashi.”
Fala couldn’t believe what they were saying. “But they’re consorting with dragons. Dragons!”
“I like the dragons.” The youngest worker faced her defiantly.
Fala looked at him, dumbfounded. “What?”
“They’re nice. I stop by Dragon Square to see them whenever I get a chance. One even chirped at me.”
Fala blinked. He actually looked proud! She turned from him to the driver. “What is wrong with you people? The guild destroyed the Order! They’ve taken away everything I—everything we had!”
“Were you not listening?” the driver said. “They’ve not taken anything away, they’ve given.” He eyed her closer. “Have I seen you before?”
“Who exactly are you?” The shop owner still eyed her.
“Fools! You’ve all been beguiled by those dragons. I’ll not waste my breath on you any longer.” Fala turned and stalked away.
That gods damned dragon guild! If she couldn’t convince the people to rise up against them, then she’d have to somehow stop them by herself.
Of Gods, Trees, and a Sapling: Dragonlinked Chronicles Volume 4 Page 31
