“I bring a great deal of corundum of various grade to Caer Baronel for the glassmiths, so I’ve got plenty of extra fine. As for the other, how much pebbled tinstone would you like?”
As the two continued to talk, Willem twitched his nose. There were a number of odd chemical odors, some very sharp, in the large tent.
He leaned toward Elizabeth. “You were right about the, ah, scents in here.”
“I told you,” she said, chuckling. “The boxes, sacks, and containers in here, and especially the odors, all remind me of a place in Stronghold.”
“Oh?” Aeron glanced at her.
“An alchemy supply company.”
Aeron grunted. “Fillion mentioned something about visiting a company like that. He said Coatl didn’t like how strong the smells were in there.”
She blinked. “Why was a dragon inside of a business?”
Aeron chuckled. “Master Gella had him scenting out some kind of chemical or compound.” He drew his brows together. “I think it was called . . . cuprethene, maybe?”
Willem nodded. “Cuprethene, yes.”
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. “Why was Master Gella interested in that?”
Aeron shrugged. “Apparently, those people they’re trying to track down are using a lot of barrels of the stuff. For what purpose, however, Fillion and Master Gella had no idea.”
“You know,” Elizabeth said, “I found boxes and boxes of a compound in a building owned by one of their shell companies. That’s actually why I went to Stronghold Alchemy—to find out what the compound was. Yellow pitch, they told me. I kept pestering the person there on what it could be used for, what someone would need that much for. Nothing made any real sense for pest control.”
“Did you say cuprethene and yellow pitch?”
Willem turned to the alchemist and raised his hands. “Our apologies, sir. We didn’t mean speak loudly enough to disturb you two.”
“Actually, yes,” Elizabeth said, “we were talking about them. Why?”
“It brings back memories.” The older gentleman smiled. “When I was a child, you see, my family wasn’t very well off. We couldn’t afford lamp oil. This was before light globes were in use like they are now, though we likely couldn’t have afforded them either. So, my mother would procure the much cheaper cuprethene and yellow pitch to mix up a kind of poor man’s lamp oil.
“Cuprethene on its own is extremely volatile, you see, and its vapors are prone to ignite and explode from the tiniest spark. But”—he raised a finger—“if you carefully make small batches of a mixture of yellow pitch and cuprethene in about a two-to-three ratio, it makes for a less explosive liquid and a decent enough lamp fuel. While it’s still not quite as safe as lamp oil, it is much, much cheaper.”
Elizabeth turned to Aeron. “How many barrels of cuprethene did those people have?”
“Mmm, thirty, forty? I can’t remember what Fillion said.”
“Good gods.”
Willem glanced at her. She looked worried. “What’s wrong?”
“That must be the accelerant they’ve been using in all those suspicious fires. And if they have that much, how many buildings can they burn?”
Willem raised his brows. No wonder she was worried. Were those people planning another attack in the city? But instead of riots, would this attack consist of fires?
Fillion wonders where you all are.
What?
To be more precise, he searches for Quillan.
Willem glanced at the machinist. Tell him we’re at the alchemist tent, the one at the far southeast corner of the grounds.
Done.
He and Aeron spoke at the same time. “Fillion is looking for you, Quillan.”
Aeron looked over and smiled.
“Why is he looking for me?”
“That device you’ve been looking into,” Chanté said. “Master Gella found one in a building, undamaged and . . . attached. She wants your help to examine it.”
Nantli must be speaking with Coatl. Willem was about to ask Balam to do the same when Elizabeth spoke.
“I’m going with you.”
Quillan turned to her. “I’m not sure that’s wise, Bethy. Your leg still hinders you.”
Willem raised his brows. A nickname? He glanced at Chanté, but the young man merely watched, expressionless.
“I don’t care. I’ve never seen the device in place before it has burned. I’d like to. And I will help find the bastards that made Bogden disappear. If he’s still alive, they’ll know.”
The muscles in Quillan’s jaw worked. “Fine. I doubt you’d stay anyway, no matter what anyone said.”
“You’re right about that.”
“Excuse me.” The alchemist raised his hand. He looked at Quillan. “What about your order, sir?”
“I’ll take care of it.” Aeron gestured to the exit. “You guys go meet Fillion.”
“Thank you,” Quillan said. “You can have it dropped off at the workshop.”
“I will.” Aeron nodded and turned back to the alchemist.
Willem and the rest exited the tent to the sound of wings beating. Coatl set down in the grassy area between the fairgrounds and the trees to the east. As they walked over, people watched the goings on.
Fillion beckoned hurriedly. “Let’s go, Quillan! Liflin said she’s waiting at a warehouse, and we have to get directions to it at the investigator’s headquarters.”
“Ah . . .” For some reason, the young man blanched. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to ask Chanté and Nantli to take me.”
“Of course.” Chanté’s eyes went flat.
“Hang on, we can’t just—” Fillion sat with his mouth open a moment. “Actually, I suppose that’s fine. They’ve helped before.”
“Nantli’s on her way.”
“Still, I don’t like making Master Gella wait. Why not just go with me?”
Elizabeth and Chanté both glanced at Quillan. The machine engineer looked more than a little uncomfortable.
Willem drew his brows together. What were they worried about?
Quillan cleared his throat. “The thing is . . .”
Elizabeth put a hand on Quillan’s shoulder. “Quillan doesn’t have a dragon, so he and Chanté have been doing flying lessons together. They should keep doing so whenever possible.”
Willem stared at her. That hardly made sense in this situation.
“That’s true,” Quillan said, “but—”
“And Elizabeth is going with us.” Chanté looked around at those staring at him. “Nantli is used to being careful with her. W–With the broken leg, it would be best if we took her.”
Willem scowled. That was an even worse excuse. Coatl could easily carry them both, safely.
Fillion chuckled as he looked over the three. “Bullshit. I’m not sure what’s going on, but it’s fine.”
“I’m terrified of heights.”
Brows raised, Willem turned to Quillan. Good gods. How did he—
“I’ll be damned.” Fillion stared at Quillan a moment then started laughing.
“Hey!” Having both yelled the same thing at the same time, Elizabeth and Chanté looked at each other.
“I like you even more, now.” Fillion wore a large smile.
Coatl’s bark seemed to echo the sentiment.
“What do you mean?” Chanté looked dubious.
“He’s terrified of heights and still he trains to be dragonlinked? He must have balls the size of Garathel’s.”
“He can be very determined.” Elizabeth smiled at Quillan.
“Balls?” Chanté stared at Fillion.
Cheeks a bit pink, Quillan murmured, “Testicles.”
Chanté grunted. “Garathel doesn’t even have—”
Nantli barked as she flew in. Gaze on Chanté, who looked worried, for some reason, she landed near Coatl.
“I’d like to thank you both,” Quillan said, “for not revealing my, ah, problem. But we’re all a team in the guild,” he looked fro
m Elizabeth to Chanté, “a family even, so I no longer care if they know.”
Quillan glanced at Fillion. “It took some time and work, but I do fine on dragonback, now, as long as I’m with Chanté.” His eyes widened a touch and he blushed. “A–And Nantli, of course.”
Willem raised his brows. Oh, ho. A glance at Elizabeth revealed lips pressed together and a faint frown.
“Good,” Fillion said. “Now mount up. We’ve kept Master Gella waiting long enough.”
After Chanté and Quillan walked with Elizabeth to Nantli, Quillan removed a riding belt and two riding caps from her saddle bags. He handed a cap to Chanté and the belt to Elizabeth. They quickly slipped on the gear.
“We should tell Master Gella about our theory concerning the accelerant,” Elizabeth said. As she floated over and onto Nantli’s saddle, she used her hands in front and back to press her skirt close to her body.
“Good idea.” Quillan climbed up and started on his safety straps.
Chanté, having already secured himself while she was being levitated, helped Elizabeth with her straps. By the time Quillan finished with himself, they were all ready.
Willem was impressed. Less than two minutes had elapsed. It seemed they really were practiced at riding together.
Chanté turned to Fillion and nodded.
Fillion raised his left arm into the air, hand in a fist. “Departing.”
“Noted,” Chanté said.
Willem wasn’t the only one to watch the dragons fly over the trees toward the unseen portal. A small crowd had formed at the edge of the walking path a couple of dozen feet or so to the west. Wistful sighs came from their direction as the dragons disappeared past the treeline.
Willem smiled and headed back to the tent. Aeron would need help to ferry the supplies Quillan had ordered.
“What is that?” he asked, staring at two large crates sitting outside the tent. “We can’t carry those.”
Aeron chuckled. “That’s the tin ore. We’ll levitate it and relocate it along.”
“Ah.” Willem nodded then looked at him. “So, why did you offer to do this? I thought you wanted to find a gift for your father.”
“I do, and we will, but I also know that some people take longer than others to figure out how they feel.”
Willem shook his head and poked Aeron in the chest. “You, sir, are a hopeless romantic.”
Cheeks darkening, Aeron twisted his lips. “Maybe.”
Willem chuckled. “Come on. Let’s get this delivered so we can enjoy the fair.”
+ + + + +
After closing the portal, Fillion turned his gaze below. Work on the police headquarters roof had progressed far. The covered stairwell seemed to be finished, and the dragon den was nearly complete.
He glanced at Coatl. You knew of his fear, didn’t you? I felt no surprise from you, only pride.
Of course. But his fear was part of his private life.
Fillion smiled, leaned down, and patted Coatl’s neck. That’s true.
A happy rumble thrummed through the saddle.
Fillion sat back up. Let’s get down there.
Nantli followed them to the roof.
Fillion jumped down, and for some reason, they dismounted, too.
“You could have stayed in the saddle,” Fillion said, “I’m just going to get directions.”
Elizabeth, arms linked with Quillan and Chanté, shook her head. “It is highly uncomfortable in the saddle with a cast. We’ll go with you. I’ll just need a couple of minutes in a chair to rest a bit before we fly to meet her.”
Fillion pressed his lips together. Damn it all, he didn’t want to make Master Gella wait. “Alright. Let’s hurry, though.”
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, a frantic voice came from down the hallway.
“Is he here? We’ve met before!”
“Sir, wait. I can’t let you just walk around in these offices!”
“I don’t give a damn! I must speak to him immediately!”
Fillion frowned. Was that another high-born trying to get special treatment from the investigators?
It is Tobin.
Fillion’s eyes widened. What?
He is very worried about Preeti. You must ask him why!
Without thinking, he started running.
“Hey! Fillion! Where are you going?”
He rounded the corner and saw Tobin approaching down the hallway, the attendant chasing after. Tobin wore some kind of uniform. A butler? Something.
He seemed to recognize Fillion. “You! I need your help!”
Fillion stared at him. “What’s wrong with Preeti?”
The attendant looked at him. “You know this man, Apprentice Fillion?”
He nodded. “I do. I’ll speak with him. Uh, the small meeting room?”
“It’s available. I’ll log it in.” The attendant headed back to the desk.
“Come, Tobin.” Fillion gestured, turned, and returned down the hallway.
Just as they reached the corner, Chanté and Quillan appeared, Elizabeth supported between them.
“Where in hells did you go?” Elizabeth glanced at Tobin. “Who’s he?”
Fillion kept walking past them toward the small room. Their own meeting would be further delayed a few minutes, it seemed. “We’re going to be a little late. I need to talk with Tobin first.”
“I didn’t think you wanted to make Master Gella wait.”
Fillion glanced at Quillan and then opened the door. “It can’t be helped.”
Once they were inside, he gestured to a chair. “Have a seat Tobin and tell me what happened.”
“I really don’t have much time. I have to get back to work.”
“All the more reason to be quick about it. What’s wrong with Preeti?”
Tobin glanced at the others and then turned to Fillion. “She’s being held captive, along with my wife.”
Fillion drew his brows together. “What do you mean?”
“Who is Preeti?” Elizabeth asked. “And who is holding her captive and why?”
“She’s my niece,” Tobin said. “My wife and I took her in when her father was killed.”
He turned to Fillion. “I really have to get back. I managed to slip away, but I must be there when Lord Koen arrives.” He fished something out of a vest pocket, a folded sheet of paper, and handed it over. “This is the address of Koen’s manor and a rough sketch of the place. Preeti and Elke are being held in the room I marked. Please, you must help them. I’m certain they will be killed even should I do as I was instructed.”
What in hells? Fillion tried to absorb Tobin’s words. First things first, though. Is what he said true?
It is. He is very worried.
Fillion glanced at the drawing. A few buildings, some sort of wall, and a street were all hastily sketched on it. An arrow pointed to a square. A room? ‘Second floor’ was written next to it.
“What were you instructed to do?” Quillan stared at the worried man.
“Earlier today, I was to suggest Lord Koen be a replacement for a performer who bowed out for tonight. I did that. And in about an hour, I am to ensure that Lord Koen isn’t badgered by anyone when he arrives to prepare for his performance at the theater.” It seemed as if Tobin were going to say more, but instead he pressed his lips together and frowned.
Fillion stared at the man. He’s hiding something, isn’t he?
He is, though I am not sure what. His thoughts are filled with Preeti and a woman who must be his wife.
Fillion folded the paper. “Those hardly seem to be important enough reasons to threaten two people’s lives.”
“Lord Koen plans things to the very tiniest detail. He wants everything to go exactly as expected and can be very . . . upset when things do not. I should warn you—he hired a few dangerous-looking people to patrol that part of the manor. I think he wanted to keep me from trying to save Elke and Preeti myself.”
Tobin clenched his hands into fists. “Listen, I don’
t care what happens to me, but I made a promise to Preeti. She considers you and your dragon to be her friends. Please. Will you save her and my wife?”
Fillion drew his brows together. I’m not sure I trust him.
He has not lied about what he has told us. Whatever else he may be keeping to himself, he does fear for their lives. I think the threat is real. We must save Preeti.
Fillion sighed. “Coatl would never forgive me if something were to happen to your niece. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself, either, for that matter. We’ll go.”
“Thank you!”
“Now hurry on back to work. I don’t want to doom our rescue attempt before it even starts. And Tobin?”
The man paused at the door and looked back. “Yes?”
“You’re going to tell me what you’re holding back later, hear?”
Tobin stared at Fillion a moment and then nodded. “Save them and I’ll tell you everything.” He hurried off the way they’d come.
Fillion tucked the folded sheet of paper away and led his friends down the hallway to the other meeting room.
“If you’re going to go save that girl,” Elizabeth said, “what of Master Gella’s request?”
He glanced at Chanté and smiled. “It seems Ulthis’s dice rolled our way today.”
For some reason the unusual boy grew pale and his eyes widened. Odd.
“What do you mean?”
Fillion turned to Elizabeth and then pointed to Quillan. “It’s him she wants. I’m merely the delivery boy. Chanté and Nantli can serve that purpose while Coatl and I save Preeti.”
He opened the door. A city map was spread open on the large table, and sitting in one of the chairs was that girl.
She stood quickly, making her copper curls bounce. The skin beneath her freckles grew a little pink, then her eyes flashed. “I don’t appreciate being forced to wait, Chip.”
Fillion scowled at her.
Elizabeth looked from the girl to him and then back. “Chip?”
“Never mind that.” He walked over to the girl and held out the scrap of paper. “Can you show me where this address is on the map?”
She took the sketch. “What’s this?”
“A girl is being held captive there. Coatl and I are going to go save her.”
Her gaze flicked to him then back to the paper. “Hmm. Well, this is in the wealthy quarter. Not the most expensive section of the quarter, but not the poorest either.” She took a few steps, gaze on the map. “It’s here.”
Of Gods, Trees, and a Sapling: Dragonlinked Chronicles Volume 4 Page 83
