Who were they? When had they arrived? Had they been here earlier? Had he been so occupied with trying to figure out the invitation to lunch that he’d not seen them? Good gods. Today had him in a complete twist, if that was the case.
The blue sky, the bright sun, the distant sound of revelry from the streets, it all did seem to clear his head. He took a deep breath, let it out, then kept walking. After he passed through the gate and onto the sidewalk, he glanced back at the manor.
He had to save them. Somehow. He’d made that vow to Preeti, yes, but he couldn’t let Elke suffer for his mistakes.
First things first, though. It was patently clear why they’d taken his family. He had some parts to play in the plan, and they expected him to perform them. Once those parts were complete, however . . . well, he’d see what he could do.
The theater wasn’t as he thought it would be. It was quiet, which was more than a little odd, what with the performances tonight. Normally there’d be people hurrying about getting last-minute things ready for the first performance in a few hours. Instead, the place was hushed.
Brows drawn together, he made for the office. Surely Winston was upset by news of the accident. That much, at least, should have gone as expected.
Parlan stood outside the closed door with a few others.
Tobin hurried to him. “Parlan, what’s happening?”
“Winston has become unhinged with panic.”
A loud voice from within the office rambled on unintelligibly.
Tobin glanced at the door. Good. He feigned confusion. “Why?”
“Master Caprice was injured in a carriage accident. She broke a finger, we’re told.”
“What?” He widened his eyes. “Who will replace her?”
Parlan tilted his head and gestured to the door. “That’s why Winston is in a swivet. He hasn’t been able to find a replacement this close to show time.”
A loud crash came from inside. “The gods despise me!”
What had Winston done? Tobin stared at the door. “I think I might know someone.”
“You know someone who could—”
Tobin knocked on the door and entered. The room smelled of whiskey.
Winston stood at the sideboard, staring at what looked like a shattered drinking glass on the floor. The liquor it had held slowly soaked into the edge of a nearby rug.
He looked up. “What do you want?”
“I heard what happened to Master Caprice.”
Winston chuckled. “Ulthis’s dice roll for you, and at the same time, they roll against you.” He shook his head and sighed. “I’ve been trying to replace her, but with the festival, every other performer worth a damn is booked.” He stared at the broken glass. “I’m ruined.”
Tobin drew his brows together. Ruined? The former actor was being overly dramatic again. “Listen, I think I know someone who could replace her. I could drop by his—”
Winston’s bark of laughter interrupted him. “You? You know someone who could—” He burst out laughing again.
Tobin scowled. “Why are you laughing?”
Suddenly angry, Winston took a step toward him. “Who in Yrdra’s deepest hells would you know that could replace Master Caprice? High Lady Hasana will be in attendance! I can’t have some pissing street performer as a headliner! Good gods, man!”
Winston’s anger forced Tobin to take a step back. That and the news that— “High Lady Hasana will be here?”
Winston turned back to the sideboard. “Now he understands my dilemma.”
Tobin was suddenly filled with panic.
Grabbing a glass, Winston said, “Her security detail is inspecting the building and, especially, the auditorium. Nearly half the pissing staff is helping them with the inspections, it seems.”
Tobin swallowed. Lord Koen knew. Somehow they knew that High Lady Hasana was going to be here.
He shook his head. It didn’t matter at this point. He had to stick to the plan for now. Licking his lips, he said, “What about her uncle?”
A newly-filled glass of whiskey in hand, Winston turned to him. “What? Whose uncle?”
“High Lady Hasana. I’ve done side work for Lord Koen off and on for a few months. I hear him practicing, sometimes. He still sounds incredible. I know that he’s kept himself out of the public eye, but . . .”
Winston stared at him. Hope shining in his wide eyes.
“Should I ask him if he’s available?” Tobin glanced at the doorway where Parlan stood with the same expression on his face. “He used to be very supportive of the performing arts, didn’t he?”
“H–He lives in Stronghold? And you know where?” Liquor sloshing out of the glass, Winston practically ran to him. “Why in hells are you still here?” Winston spun him around a pushed him toward the door. “Go! Beg on your knees if you have to, but get him!”
Almost stumbling from the shove, Tobin left the office.
Outside, Parlan shoved him, too. “Fly, Tobin!”
He hurried down the hallway.
Good. Things were going as they should. He was certain, however, that there were other parts of the plan that he didn’t know. How important was High Lady Hasana’s presence here to those? He didn’t think Lord Koen and the High Lady were going to have a debate on stage, so what was supposed to happen?
As far as he had understood tonight’s part of the plan, Lord Koen was going to make a few comments about the current state of affairs here in Stronghold between encores. That would put him in the minds of the important people in the audience. Then, with more rumors about how poorly the High Lady had handled the city-wide fires, Lord Koen would be positioned well when he made his political move in a month or two. Would he still make those comments with High Lady Hasana in the audience? But . . . if Koen knew that she would be here, was that part of the plan a lie?
Tobin let out a breath. He wasn’t certain what was real and what was artifice in the plan anymore.
The trip back to the manor was very different from his previous one. Now, the people walking up and down the streets laughing and carrying on seemed more like sheep heading to the slaughter. They had no inkling as to what was happening in this city behind closed doors. And, apparently, neither did he. Tobin moved around them and hurried along as best he could.
The moment he’d heard that High Lady Hasana would be at the theater, the feeling in his gut was that not only was his life in danger, but so were Elke and Preeti’s. Unfortunately, he still hadn’t figured out any way to save them by the time he reached Koen’s manor.
He walked up the steps to the door. What could he do?
Just inside, the junior butler bowed his head. “Tobin, sir. Lord Koen awaits you in his study.”
“Thank you.” Tobin nodded to him and hurried down the hallway.
Cadoc was there, too. The man eyed him as he approached the desk.
“Well?” Lord Koen raised his brows.
“The manager wants you to perform. He told me to get on my knees and beg if I had to.”
Lord Koen’s laugh was hearty and loud. “Excellent!”
He kept his voice neutral. “High Lady Hasana will be in attendance tonight.”
Lord Koen said, “As expected.”
Tobin blinked.
“Her security detail is crawling over the place like ants, I presume?”
Brows drawn together, he nodded. “Yes.”
Lord Koen sat back in his chair. “Also as expected.” He glanced briefly at Cadoc—who barely moved his head in a nod—before looking back. “We’re ready for tonight, but to keep up the pretense, we will not leave until later. Last minute acceptance should mean last minute preparations and that should take time. At any rate, as the opening act is at five, we will arrive precisely at half-past four, so make sure you’re ready.”
Tobin pressed his lips together. What were they planning? “Of course.”
Lord Koen glanced at Cadoc, then turned a strange smile on him. “You don’t have to return immediately, so why not
spend a few minutes in the salon with your lovely wife and niece? In the meantime, I’ll have a carriage made ready to take you to the theater.”
“Thank you.” Tobin turned and left the study.
Those new people were only in this wing of the manor, he noticed. They must be guards to keep an eye on him and his family. They watched as he made his way down the halls. How in Yrdra’s deepest hells was he going to save his wife and niece?
“Uncle Tobin!” Preeti’s relief was plain. It faded when she caught a glimpse of the two men standing just outside in the hallway.
“Preeti, Elke.” He walked in and shut the doors. “How was the piano performance?”
Elke smiled. “Master Caprice was a delight to listen to.”
“D–Did you finally remember my friends?” Hands clasped tightly in her lap, Preeti stared at him from the divan.
“Your friends?” This again? What was the girl talking about?
“Coatl and Fillion. You met them at the warehouse, Uncle.”
Tobin stared. All at once her words made sense and his heart started beating quickly. He glanced at the doors—he was certain that someone was listening—and looked back at her.
You brilliant, brilliant girl! He smiled. “I think I do recall meeting your friends. Coatl was the big fellow, wasn’t he?”
“Yes!”
“You’re right. It would be nice if they could join us.”
“Preeti, you should invite your friends over sometime.” Elke smiled at her.
Hope surging in his heart, Tobin stepped to Elke, leaned over, and kissed her. “I’ve got to get back to work, love.” He stood and looked at Preeti. “I’ll see what I can do about making tonight even more special.”
Her brows drew together momentarily, then rose. Smiling, she nodded furiously and waved as he left.
Once he told Winston of Koen’s acceptance, Tobin had intended to hasten to the police headquarters, which was where the special investigators had their offices. It was not to be.
“You have saved this institution.”
Tobin stared. Was the man crying?
“I speak no hyperbole. The superlative talent we put on display here is why the Theater of the Performing Arts has come to be one of the linchpins of the Stronghold performing arts community and the Summer Festival. As testament to that, most of the city’s leaders, political or otherwise, are going to be here tonight. Even the High Lady decided to attend at the last minute. And then, disaster.” Winston turned to him. “But you saved us.”
Tobin cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I’d like to take care of a few matters before tonight, so—” He turned to leave.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Tobin looked back. “What do you mean?”
“I need you to help move all of Master Caprice’s props from the back of the prep area down to storage to make room for whatever Lord Koen might bring.”
“But I’m an usher—”
“No butts! Everyone’s busy with last minute tasks or assisting that damn security detail. Find Parlan and help him get whoever is available to do that. I’ve got to meet with the stage manager and figure out some kind of set and lighting scheme in case Lord Koen doesn’t have any ideas in that regard.” He tapped his chin and stared at the ceiling. “I’m thinking simple. That will keep the audience’s focus on—”
He looked at Tobin. “Why are you still here? Get moving. Go! And when you’re done with that task, the two of you return to me. I may have more for you to do.”
Barbs and pissing blades! “Fine.” Tobin clenched his jaws and hurried off.
At some point before this evening, however, he was going to get away and find that boy, that dragon, and that special investigator.
+ + + + +
Doronal handed Millinith a cup of chilled wine and sipped on his own.
“Thanks for getting these,” she said. “You missed the first part of this trick, though.”
“Oh?”
“No matter. The best part is next.” She looked up to the western sky.
The little smile on her lips made him even more curious as to what this trick entailed. The wine stall was behind the north bleachers so all he’d experienced of the first part was the cheers from the crowds. While he did know that a dive was involved, he’d seen their initial plummet, that was all he knew because the bleachers had blocked his view of the field.
He pulled the comm cap back on.
“Beginning dive.” Aeron’s voice was very clear. One could even tell how calm he was. He and the others were at such a high altitude that they appeared as mere smudges above the far treeline.
Gaze on the dots in the sky, Doronal placed fingers on the riding cap over his ear. He leaned toward Millinith. “These comm sets are incredible.”
She turned, the corner of her mouth lifted in a half-smile. “I’m going to have to thank Master Gella for sending Quillan our way. He’s as remarkable as his, ah, friend.”
Doronal nodded. “Indeed.”
The young man had created several of the riding caps with communications devices built into them. The dragonlinked performing right now all wore them. How the lad had been able to produce nine new sets, Doronal had no idea. That was one way he apparently was remarkable. According to Millinith, the young man could be very focused when needed. He’d hardly left his workshop while making the sets. The ones Doronal and Millinith wore were the prototypes created as proofs of concept.
As far as Chanté, his spells interested Doronal a great deal. In fact, aside from his other reasons for his many visits to the Guildhall, it was likely he would want to drop by to at least speak with the unusual boy about the enchantments he’d devised. Though, Doronal had yet to find time to do so.
“Prepare to break.” Aeron sounded a touch more nervous than before.
You could just tell the dots were dragons, now, as close to the ground as their dive had brought them. Doronal stared, watched them slowly grow larger.
“Almost time.” Millinith was looking at the other end of the running track.
Doronal drew his brows together. Why was she looking down there?
Gregor was standing by the enormous ring on that side of the field, the top of which stood at least twelve feet above the ground. The young man had left the fenced area some minutes earlier to stand near the large circular structure. Doronal had wondered at its purpose. A large, burning torch sat to the side of the structure, and now, Gregor pulled it from the ground and waved it over his head three times.
“Lighting it up.”
Doronal blinked at the young man’s voice. It was as if Gregor had suddenly said the words directly in his ear. Which, in a way, he had.
Oohs and ahs came from the crowds on both sides of the track as flames licked upward, over the sides of the ring, and nearly filled the empty center.
Doronal drew his brows together. Why had Gregor lit that ring on fire?
“Here they come again!” Gregor was using the voice amplification spell, it seemed. “Everyone look to the west once more!”
Doronal looked up to the dragons. Above the far line of trees, they dropped toward the ground.
“Team one . . .” Aeron’s voice over the comm set was tense. “Break!”
He could just see Anaya’s wings stretch wide. She was pulling out of the straight drop and into an angled flight path heading down toward them, toward the ring of fire.
Sounds of excitement came from the stands as Anaya and Aeron rapidly approached.
“Team two, break!” Willem called out as he and Balam repeated the same maneuver.
Doronal stared. Were they . . . going to fly through the ring? As they drew closer and closer, his stomach clenched. The diameter of the ring wasn’t large enough to accommodate outstretched dragon wings, was it?
He pulled the cap from his head and took a step forward. “Good gods. They’ll never fit!”
Screams and yells came from the crowds. “You’ll be burned alive!” “Stop you damn fools,
stop!” “No!”
Doronal swallowed and stared. The sound of Anaya’s flight membranes being whipped by air was audible now. They were traveling so fast!
At the road, she changed their flight path to be parallel with the ground, and just before reaching the blazing ring, she induced a barrel roll and pulled her wings in. Spinning, they pierced the center of the ring, whipping and pulling at the flames as they did so. The moment she was fully on the other side, her wings sprang open again with a loud thump. She stopped the barrel roll and angled their flight path to the left, upward, and past.
Doronal started breathing again. “Yrdra’s ice-cold tits.”
The crowds exploded with cheers and Millinith broke into laughter.
She knew? After a brief frown, he looked back at the ring. There’d be punishment later for not telling him what was happening.
Humor came through the link as Willem and Balam tore through the flames and broke right, followed by more cheers.
Huemac. Did you know about this routine?
M–Mayhap.
Pissing blades! My lover and my dragon conspired against me?
After passing through, Fillion and Coatl flew toward and then over him.
She made me promise not to tell.
Doronal turned to his bond-mate. The large dragon lay next to Itzel. As well as the spanking I think I will give Millinith later, perhaps I should also kick you in your big dragon ass!
Huemac tilted his head. I–I love you.
And he did. Doronal could feel it. He chuckled and let out a breath. I love you, too, you big idiot.
He returned his gaze to the ring in time to see Polandra and Ikan pass through and bank left.
He raised a brow. “You will pay for that, my dear.”
“Oh, ho.” Millinith didn’t sound anywhere near as worried as she should. “What are you planning?”
“I won’t tell you in detail—”
Jessip and Zolin banked right after tearing through the flames.
Of Gods, Trees, and a Sapling: Dragonlinked Chronicles Volume 4 Page 80
