Pissing blades. He pelted up the stairs.
At the top of the stairs, he went right, and hurried down the hallway in a crouch, keeping his head below the hot layer of smoke.
A loud whooshing sound came from behind and yellow light flared, casting brief shadows before him.
Shit!
It was getting hard to breathe, now, even below the smoke layer. He had to take short, choking breaths. His arm was killing him from being jostled as he hurried along, and tears ran down his cheeks from the fumes. He was sweating, too, from the heat. Eyes watering, he staggered past another stairwell to the end of the hallway.
There was no one there.
Where is she?
A little above you and to the south.
She’d made for the roof! Coughing, he ran back to the nearby stairwell.
He had to stop halfway up the last flight of stairs. The entire top of the stairwell was very dim and filled with smoke that continued to slowly lower as he watched.
Lacking a hand lantern, he cast a glow enchantment to see better.
There was maybe half a foot left that was free of smoke on the top landing, but in that thin gap he saw the woman sprawled on the ground next to a door. Was it locked?
Still in relatively clear air, he took a deep breath and held it.
He hurried up the stairs and picked the woman up, causing sharp pain in his left arm. He gritted his teeth to keep his mouth closed.
Don’t gasp, damn it! Hold that breath!
Blinking away fumes and tears, he put his face closer and closer to the door until, nose almost touching, he could finally see it through the smoke. He cast a quick spell, and the door was violently yanked outward off its hinges.
As it banged away along the roof, blessedly cool and clear air rushed in and over him. He took a gasping breath but then drew his brows together. Wouldn’t the hot air from inside be rushing outward?
I see you!
A strange sound came from the stairwell, like an in-drawn hiss. As it grew higher in pitch and louder, it reminded him of Coatl’s flame as it was being adjusted. His eyes widened.
Shit!
Leaping out the doorway and holding the unconscious woman tight, he cast the slide spell.
He slid forward along the roof, and just as the spell ended, an explosion from behind knocked him from his feet.
Pain spiked in his arm as he wrapped his arms tightly around the woman. He twisted so his back would hit the rooftop instead of her.
He struck something much softer than expected.
Got you!
Several feet to the right, part of the roof collapsed, and flames and sparks shot up from the ragged opening.
Coatl’s big forelegs enfolded him and the woman tighter, and they rose from the building to the feel and sound of pounding dragon wings.
Fillion caught occasional glimpses of the tenement below, flames licking upward here and there. Have I mentioned how much I love you, lately? ’Cause I really, really do.
Love surged through the link followed by a distinct sense of mischief. Who would not love such a magnificent dragon?
He pressed his lips together. I swear, if I wasn’t rescuing this woman, I’d punch you right now, right in your big dragon belly.
Coatl’s laughter vibrated against his back and made him smile.
On the way down to the ground, the woman started screaming and flailing.
Fillion held her tighter. “You’re okay! Stop that or we might lose hold of you!”
She twitched and looked back over her shoulder, eyes wide. “W–Who are you?”
“Apprentice Dragonlinked Fillion. Coatl and I rescued you.”
“Coatl?”
“The dragon.”
Coatl landed and set them on the street to cheers from a gathered crowd. Six police officers, arms held out to their sides, stood in a line to keep the excited people back. Behind them, Nantli, Chanté, Quillan, Elizabeth, and Master Gella all stood before the tenement. Master Gella eyed the fire, while closer to the building, a fire brigade sprayed water onto the building from their pump-truck.
“Well done, Fillion and Coatl!” Quillan clapped and smiled.
“Indeed,” Chanté said.
Fillion blinked. Chanté was actually smiling. Elizabeth stood beside him, clapping, too. Nantli bounced up on her forelegs once, letting out a happy bark.
“Mother!” Someone broke from the crowd, running between two of the officers. The young woman, perhaps twenty, pelted toward him.
Two officers turned to her. One shouted, “Hey!”
The woman Fillion had been carrying burst into tears, arms raised toward her quickly approaching daughter. “It’s all gone!”
The women embraced.
Seeing that, the officers returned to holding back the others.
“Everything we owned, our photographs, even the things your father left us. Everything’s gone!”
Fillion looked around at the crowd gathered nearby. Those from the burning building were easy to spot. Most wore random things they grabbed on the way out, but even if they’d either already been dressed at the time or had risked a moment to grab more than what was at hand, their faces would still have given them away. They stared at the burning tenement with blank expressions or with what looked like stunned disbelief.
“What are we going to do?” Thin hands gripped tightly, almost desperately.
“Hush, mama.” The young woman wiped her mother’s eyes. “It’s okay. You’re alive. We can replace most of what was lost. We can make new memories. But if you had died . . .”
A tiny crack appeared in the young woman’s composure. Her lips trembled and she had to take a deep, halting breath. She turned to Fillion. “Thank you.” She glanced up at Coatl. “Thank you both.”
Fillion nodded in acknowledgment.
You are very welcome. Coatl dipped his head in a quick bow.
Tears glimmering in her eyes, the young woman smiled and hugged her mother.
They began murmuring quiet words.
Fillion and Coatl left them to their conversation.
“From witness accounts, the fire spread quickly.” Master Gella turned to him, then glanced at his side and frowned. “What happened to your arm?”
He looked down. The bandages were mostly red with blood. Scowling, he said, “Many of the guards at the manor had bows.”
She turned to Coatl and looked him over. “What of Preeti?”
“Preeti and her aunt are safe. I left them with your people at police headquarters.”
Another fire brigade arrived, bells on the truck clanging. The officers shouted for the crowd to make way.
Fillion had heard bells as he was searching for the woman, but he’d been too occupied to give them any thought. They must have been from the first fire team. He watched the newly arrived truck make its way over to the other one.
“The witnesses are right.” He glanced at Master Gella. “The fire spread very fast. Too fast, I think.”
“Once the fire is extinguished,” Elizabeth said, “we can search for a device.”
“I find it hard to believe that a random fire would just happen to start right after the signal went out,” Quillan said. “This has to be the other ‘candle’ they lit. Unless there was another building on fire?” He turned to Fillion. “Did you notice any others?”
Fillion shook his head. “I saw no other signs of smoke. But what is this signal you keep mentioning?”
“That horrible noise from the comm set,” Chanté said. He glanced at Quillan. “We believe it is the signal used to remotely activate those devices. And because the devices have so far been activated individually, that implies each one must have its own unique activation signal. Whoever is doing this can activate one or more at their leisure.”
“Right,” Quillan said. “And that’s why trigger detection was on a separate circuit. So each device could have a custom trigger.”
Fillion frowned. “Then how many devices are there?”
<
br /> “That’s the thousand crown question, isn’t it?” Master Gella turned to Elizabeth. “Those fires your friend was investigating, how frequently did they occur?”
Elizabeth’s brows drew together. “Weeks, if not months, apart. The fire where I got the device I showed you was the last, prior to today, and it was nearly two months ago.”
Master Gella grunted and turned to the fire crews working near the trucks. “It doesn’t rain but that it pours.”
Fillion drew his brows together. Rain?
Master Gella turned to him. “I need you to take me back to headquarters. These two buildings that burned this evening are on a list I have of twenty.”
Fillion took a step toward her. “Twenty!”
“Given how much accelerant we think they possess, it is unlikely all of them are targets, but I’d rather not leave anything to chance. I want to plan for a response in case more buildings are set afire.”
+ + + + +
“After Lord Koen’s last encore, High Lady Hasana will give a speech.” Winston raised his hand. “It’s last-minute, I know, but from what her people tell me, it should only last about half an hour. The High Lady’s security detail will escort her backstage after the second encore. Then, after the last encore, only a few house lights will be brought up. That is when she will give her speech.”
Tobin drew his brows together. He glanced around the room at the others, then turned back to Winston. “Does Lord Koen know this?”
“I myself only learned of it right before I called this employee meeting to apprise everyone of the schedule change. Why?”
He fidgeted. “W–Well, it might affect which songs he chooses to perform for his encores.”
Winston frowned. “Divos and Divas can be temperamental. I’d hate for him to be so upset about an unannounced change that he never wants to perform here again.” He gestured to the door. “Go. Inform him, now. It’s right before his curtain call, so if he gets upset, offer anything to settle him.”
Tobin nodded and hurried out of the office.
What would the High Lady talk about? The riots? The economy? Thinking about it, here tonight would be the ideal place to speak in order to be heard by most of the influential people of Stronghold.
Would this affect Lord Koen’s plans? Would Lord Koen be angry? The man had a short temper when anything didn’t meet his expectations, and if this schedule change did indeed affect his plans . . .
Tobin frowned, not entirely certain that he cared about those plans anymore. His biggest concern right now was the safety of Elke and Preeti. Gods make it they were okay.
He knocked on the dressing room door. “Lord Koen?”
It opened on Cadoc. “Isn’t it a few minutes early for the curtain call?”
Behind the frowning man, Lord Koen was sitting in a chair before the mirror. He ceased his voice warming exercises and turned to them.
Tobin nodded. “Yes, but I was asked to inform Lord Koen of a slight change in the schedule tonight.”
“What change?” Lord Koen’s gaze was stony.
“After your final encore, High Lady Hasana will speak to the audience. Some kind of speech, they said.”
Cadoc and Lord Koen glanced at each other.
“Does this affect the timing?” Cadoc asked.
Lord Koen looked at Tobin. “How long is this speech supposed to take?”
“About half an hour, I was told.”
Lord Koen turned and gazed at his reflection in the mirror. “I see. In that case, the grand finale needs only be put off a bit. Instead of at the beginning of my last encore, we’ll wait until a quarter- hour after she starts her speech to start the finale. I can claim to be curious as to what she’ll speak on, and as I am a performer and don’t have a seat, it won’t seem out of place for me to remain in the wings to do so. All in all, this won’t make too big of a disruption to the plan, I don’t think.” He smiled.
Tobin had no idea what this grand finale would be. It was part of the plan not privy to him. He glanced from Lord Koen to Cadoc. Whatever it was, they didn’t seem to be very upset at the change in schedule.
It was then he noticed that the men, the workers, weren’t in the room. Where had they gone? Outside, back with the carriage? Their work of bringing the trunks in was complete, so that would make sense. But why was there only one trunk in the room? Where were the other four?
“Tobin!”
He looked at Cadoc. “I’m sorry?”
“I said, thank you for letting us know. Is this also the curtain call? There are several minutes until the appointed time.”
“N–No. Someone else will come for Lord Koen at that time.”
“Thank you, then.” Cadoc closed the door.
Tobin stared at the star on the door, Lord Koen’s name written upon it. That had been a lot less painful than he thought it would be.
He’d better get back to the auditorium. The intermission would be over soon, and people would be returning to their seats.
As he made his way down the hallway, he again wondered what had become of the other trunks. Had Lord Koen decided on only a few costume changes for his encores? Had the workers then taken the trunks with them?
+ + + + +
Gella stared at the city map. All twenty properties had been indicated on it with small glass markers. The markers on the two that had burned were bright red, while the others were pale green. Dark blue markers indicated where fire stations were located.
A feeling of unease plagued her about the fires, but her thoughts kept turning to the speech the High Lady would give in half an hour or so. Gella shook her head in irritation. Leave Hasana’s safety to her security detail! Right now, it was the city that was in danger.
“In many places,” Chanté said, “the number of fire brigades is close to a perfect intersection between protection needs and minimizing personnel waste when there is nothing to protect against.”
Gella turned to the oddly tantalizing young man. That sounded like something Quillan would say.
“Certainly in the outer parts of the city,” Quillan agreed, looking over the map. “It is less optimal in other areas, however.”
“Aesthetics.”
Fillion turned and said, “What do you mean . . . Fox?”
Gella drew her brows together. Fox? A glance at the girl revealed that rather than looking upset, she was smiling. A little smile, to be sure, but even so.
“You see, Chip, the rich and haughty didn’t want their gazes assaulted by too many fire stations. So while some sections of the city have fewer stations, each one of those locations houses more firefighters and trucks.”
“That addresses personnel and equipment,” Elizabeth said, “but not response times. Fewer stations means, on average, they have farther to travel to reach fires.”
“Indeed,” Gella said, “which is why we will have more patrols in those areas. If not for Fillion, that woman, at least, would have died.”
At the attention, the embarrassed young man’s lips curved in a half smile, and when he saw ‘Fox’ looking at him, a faint blush rose in his cheeks.
“Helping people, eh?” Fox lifted a brow at him.
Fillion cleared his throat and stared at the map.
“We were fortunate, too,” Fox said, “that many were not at home because they were out celebrating the festival.”
Gella nodded. “It’s settled then. I’ll ask the Dragon Craft Guild for additional assistance during the festival. There’s no telling how many fires—”
In her jacket pocket, the cricket went off.
Quillan pointed to Fillion. “Your riding cap!”
The loud sound blasted from Quillan and Chanté’s caps, which were sitting in front of them on the table.
Fillion yelped and pulled off his. “Barbs and pissing blades, that’s loud!” He rubbed his ear and stared at his riding cap.
“Sorry,” Quillan said. “There was almost no delay that time.”
“But where is this fire going to
be?” Fox stared at the map.
“All the message says is, ‘Light candle three.’” Quillan looked up from the captured ’writer. “That really tells us nothing.”
“Mayhap the fires will all be started tonight,” Elizabeth murmured. She looked troubled. “The first night of the festival is usually the busiest. It’s the perfect time to sow chaos.”
“If that’s the case,” Gella turned to Quillan, “perhaps you should start on those circuit modifications you mentioned. We should have what you’ll need. With the prospect of that loud sound coming at any time, those comm sets are useless and potentially dangerous to your hearing. May as well turn them off.”
“Good point.” Fillion reached into his cap.
The other two did the same.
Fox asked, “How will we then know when another fire is starting?”
Gella patted her jacket over the device. “The cricket will let us know.”
“More importantly,” Quillan said, “how will we communicate with each other?”
“The way we always have,” Fillion said. “Through our bond-mates.”
He turned to her, “Master Gella, where should Quillan go for the supplies he’ll need for the modifications?”
“Fox,” the name was actually starting to grow on her, “can have someone bring the supplies here once Quillan tells her what he’ll need.”
The three of them, Quillan, Chanté, and Fox, gathered and began a quiet conversation.
“Maser Gella,” Fillion stood, “how about you and I see of we can’t spot that fire from a dragon’s perspective?”
“Good idea.” She stood and looked at Fox. “If a runner arrives with the location before we return, send word up to me.”
She nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Modified street lamps lit the roof while stars sparkled in the night sky above. Gella didn’t have time to enjoy the view, however. She followed as Fillion hurried to the dragon shelter, where two dragons watched them approach.
Gella nodded to them. “Coatl, Nantli.”
Nantli chirped.
Coatl bobbed his head in return. Master Gella.
Fillion handed her a riding cap, belt, and straps before climbing up.
She slipped the cap and belt on, mounted up behind him, and after strapping in, they were airborne.
Of Gods, Trees, and a Sapling: Dragonlinked Chronicles Volume 4 Page 87
