He was almost to the hatch when someone walked out of that forward compartment, not one of the men in chairs but Yendray. He strode straight for the hatch, a distracted look on his face, but he spotted Tolemek and blurted a startled curse in his language.
Afraid he would hurl some magic, Tolemek threw the tub of lard at him.
Startled, the shaman threw up his arms to knock it aside. Tolemek sprinted for the hatch. The tub clunked to the deck, lard spattering everywhere, and Yendray attacked Tolemek’s mind, mental claws seeming to gouge deep into his brain matter.
Roaring, Tolemek launched himself at the man. He poured his pain and frustration at this whole situation into a punch, slamming his fist into Yendray’s face. His foe tumbled back, slipped on the lard, and crashed to the deck.
A part of Tolemek wanted to leap onto him, grab him by the front of his shirt and shake him until he cried out in surrender, but the two men up front sprang to their feet. They wore pistols on their belts and each reached for them.
Tolemek wheeled open the hatch as fast as he could. He jumped into a tiny chamber as a pistol fired, the bullet clanging off metal inches from the back of his head. He whirled and yanked the hatch shut behind him, though he feared all he was doing was locking himself in a closet. Utter darkness filled the tiny space.
“Breyatah's Breath, what is this place?”
He spun around and patted on the opposite side, finding another wheel marking another hatch. Maybe the stairs were behind it.
Before he could turn the wheel, it creaked, spinning of its own accord. He groaned, imagining some army on the other side.
The hatch behind him creaked, someone spinning the wheel to open it, as well. He grabbed it from his side, trying to keep them from succeeding. The outer hatch opened with a suck-hiss sound.
Water rushed in, startling Tolemek. He barely had the presence of mind to gasp in a lungful of air before icy water flooded the tiny closet. In the dark, cold, and wet, he was completely flummoxed, but he knew that hatch was open, so he pushed off toward it, still hoping for stairs or a ladder. Some kind of escape.
Something brushed his shoulder. He pushed past it, knuckles grazing a strange texture. Feathers?
His bare foot scraped against metal. He pushed off it, reaching out with his senses and trying to figure out where he was—besides completely underwater now.
To his surprise, his senses, which hadn’t worked at all before, did now. He could tell that he was not only in water, but in the ocean. No, this was a river. He sensed banks in the distance. And he sensed air above him. Surprisingly far above him. Thirty feet? Forty?
He paddled toward it, kicking awkwardly with his ankles still chained to each other.
Clangs and thuds echoed through the water from beneath him. Fearing pursuit, he swam faster than he ever had before. If not for his dragon-blood-aided senses, he wouldn’t have known which way was up and which way was down. His lungs burned, and he fought the urge to inhale.
Finally, his hands and head broke the surface, and he sucked in clean fresh air.
For the first time, he saw lights, and he peered toward one of the river banks. He had come up downstream from a city. What city, he had no idea. Was he even in Iskandia still? He did not know how long he had been unconscious, only that his stomach was growling with hunger, and he wished he’d grabbed some of those crackers.
Hoping for a friendly port and no angry pursuers, Tolemek swam toward the lights.
11
Cas walked out on Wharf B, Berth 12, an unassuming wooden platform that led to nothing. She stared glumly at the empty water surrounding it. Only a couple of gas lamps burned nearby on the wharf, but they provided enough light to tell that there weren’t any ships here. Had there ever been?
If not for the hawk, Cas would think this had been a bum lead. The familiar must have been guarding something. But if some ship had taken off while the bird had been battling them—or distracting them?—surely, she would have noticed it. Once she’d realized her bullets couldn’t take down their magical foe, she hadn’t been a hundred percent focused on the battle. If a ship had sailed away from the wharf, she definitely would have seen it.
“Nothing, huh?” came General Zirkander’s voice from behind her.
Cas shook her head.
He walked out to join her, a deep cut on his cheek dripping blood down to and off his chin.
He must have noticed her looking at it because he waved to it and said, “The bird got me. But don’t worry. Sardelle assures me she can make me pretty again by the wedding.”
“By healing the wound?” Blazer asked, following him out. “Or by applying some rouge and a wig?”
“A wig?” Zirkander scraped his fingers through his short hair. He had either left his cap and goggles back in his flier, or the hawk had gotten them. “That doesn’t seem necessary. I’ve gotten compliments on my hair from ladies. It’s thick and soft, and one woman liked that it’s always playfully tousled.”
“What woman was that?” Sardelle walked out behind Blazer, her eyebrows raised.
“Er, nobody. I mean, a woman from long ago. It might not even have been a woman. Come to think of it, I believe General Ort was the one to say that.”
“Smooth, sir,” Blazer said. “More likely, Ort told you to put your cap over your thick, tousled hair, since that’s what regulations require outdoors.”
“Yes, that’s probably how it went. I misremembered.”
Captain Kaika elbowed Sardelle. “Are you really going to marry him?”
“Likely so. Since we’re already living together, it seems like the appropriate thing to do.”
“You’re living with dragons, too, but you haven’t mentioned marrying them.”
“I think there are rules against marrying outside of your species. And the dragons aren’t there all the time.”
“It would have been convenient if one had been here for this fight,” Duck said.
“That’s the truth,” Pimples said. “I’m afraid we didn’t even finish off that big bird.”
Cas felt the dock was growing too crowded, especially since it was missing the one person she longed to see. She gazed out at the dark water, having the niggling sense that she had just missed him. Would she get a second chance to—
“I sense Tolemek,” Sardelle blurted.
Cas whirled toward her. “What? Where?”
“Swimming.” Sardelle extended a finger toward the dark water. “He’s all right. Jaxi is talking to him and guiding him toward us.”
Cas squinted into the gloom. She did see a dark head out there. Where had he come from?
“Remember that discussion we had about underwater boats?” Sardelle asked Zirkander.
“Submarines? I remember.”
“I think we may be dealing with one, but I can’t sense it at all. Neither can Jaxi. I believe our shaman may be riding around in it and camouflaging it. If he helped with the construction, he may even have used his magic to build the camouflage into the hull. Like creating an artifact.”
Zirkander grunted. “That’ll make it hard to find him. Submarines are sneaky even without magic bits.”
Cas barely listened to them. As long as Tolemek made it back to them, what did it matter if the submarine got away? So long as the shaman hadn’t done anything vile to him. Her gut clenched with worry as she imagined him having been tortured and questioned.
She gripped Sardelle’s arm. “He’s not injured, is he? He’s not swimming very fast.”
“His ankles are chained together,” Sardelle said. “That’s slowing him down. As for injuries, he seems to have some scrapes and bruises, but nothing major.”
“He’s going against the current,” Zirkander pointed out. “Maybe Jaxi can give him a lift.”
“She’s discussing it with him now,” Sardelle said. “Apparently, pride is a consideration.”
“Pride?” Cas asked. “If she can help him, ask her to do it, please. He can blame it on me.”
You ca
n address me directly, Jaxi thought into Cas’s mind. I’m usually aware of the thoughts of those around me. I like to know when people are planning inimical things.
Does that usually happen in a group of General Zirkander’s pilots?
No, they’re much more likely to be planning their next witty joke.
If you could help Tolemek, I would appreciate it.
Already doing it.
Cas looked back to the water and had no trouble making out Tolemek this time. He now floated over the river, heading rapidly in their direction. He lifted his hands, as if fearing he might crash into them, but Jaxi set him gently down on his butt at Cas’s feet.
She dropped down and smothered him with a hug, not caring that he was soaking wet. He returned the hug, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his forehead to hers.
“Tee,” Zirkander said. “Nice feet. Is that why you were kidnapped? For your boots?”
Tolemek scowled up at him. “This reunion would have been perfect if you hadn’t been here, Zirkander.”
“What? How can it be perfect when you look like a drowned rat? A chained and barefoot drowned rat.”
“As opposed to a well-shoed rat?” Kaika asked.
“Exactly,” Zirkander said.
“Cas,” Tolemek murmured, turning his face back toward hers and kissing her.
Her cheeks warmed because they had so many onlookers, but she’d been worried enough about him that she didn’t think of pulling away. He drew back, cupped her cheek in his hand, and gazed into her eyes. She gazed back, wishing she had some of Sardelle’s telepathy so she could privately tell him how worried she’d been and that she loved him.
“I didn’t know what happened to you,” she whispered.
“I should have left a note.” One corner of his mouth twitched upward. “While they were shooting at me.”
“You definitely should have. Please be more considerate next time you’re kidnapped.”
“I’ll try.”
Small bursts of flames appeared on both of his shackles, and the metal fell away from each of his ankles. Tolemek, still gazing at her, barely seemed to notice. Cas assumed Jaxi or Sardelle had been responsible.
“How long do we have to let them make moon-eyes at each other before we can ask what happened?” Zirkander whispered loudly to Sardelle. “And if all of Iskandia is in danger?”
“You’re the general,” she murmured. “Aren’t you in charge of this mission?”
“Am I? Wonderful.” Zirkander raised his voice. “All right, you two can use my cabin by the lake to rest and relax and reacquaint yourselves with each other’s naked bits, but Tee, can you brief me first?”
Tolemek sighed and pushed himself to his feet, water sloughing from his sodden clothing. It was the same clothing Cas had last seen him in days earlier. She hoped to drag him aside soon and get her own debriefing from him—and also apologize for stalking out so abruptly after he’d brought up children. The offer of the general’s cabin actually intrigued her. Assuming the city wasn’t in danger, she would love to go off to a quiet place in the woods with Tolemek. It would be easier to talk if they had a couple of days of privacy.
“A Dakrovian shaman is working with his brother, who is the chief of Jlongar Jalak,” Tolemek said. “They want to unite all the squabbling tribes there and take control of the continent. With the help of dragon blood.”
“Is that what they were looking for in your vault?” Sardelle asked.
“So I was told. I have no way to know if Yendray—that’s the shaman and the only person I spoke to—was telling me the truth.”
“Yendray.” Cas touched the pocket that held the address for the hat package. “That’s who Masonwood sold the hat to and what led us down here.”
“Hat?” Tolemek asked.
“Long story,” Zirkander said. “Keep going with yours.”
“Phelistoth is coming,” Sardelle said, looking toward the southern horizon.
“Tell him he’s late.” Zirkander nodded to Tolemek to continue.
“There’s not much more to tell,” Tolemek said. “I gathered he didn’t particularly want to kidnap me or do me any harm, despite his kidnapping buddies being perfectly willing to shoot up my lab. He just wanted to find out where I was keeping the dragon blood since he only found a half a vial in my vault.”
“Did you tell him?” Zirkander asked.
Tolemek winced. “I don’t know exactly where it is, but I’m pretty sure it’s in an iron-lined vault in the king’s castle. And under the influence of his truth serum, I did tell him that. Less than an hour ago. You should have come to rescue me earlier, Zirkander.”
“Who said we came to rescue you? I was just looking for some oversized magical birds for my squadron to battle in training exercises.”
“That was his familiar.”
“So we gathered.” Zirkander looked at Sardelle, then around at Cas and the others. “We better get back to the city and warn the king. I assume us charring and mangling the hawk isn’t going to stop this Yendray from going after the dragon blood.”
“If the hawk is what I brushed against on the way out of his underwater boat, it’s still alive.”
Zirkander sighed. “Of course it is.”
Sardelle sat on the front stoop while Tylie practiced her healing skills on a wounded frog she’d found by the pond. It lay motionless in her hands while she worked on it, only its eyes moving slightly.
Sardelle was surprised Tylie had been out roaming the muddy path that morning. They’d all had a late night, flying back from Ambergull, and then heading to Tolemek’s lab. He had insisted on checking it for himself and then cleaning up while assuring Tylie that he was fine—she and Phelistoth had landed on the riverside wharf shortly after Jaxi had lifted Tolemek out of the water. Sardelle had sensed Cas wanted to drag Tolemek off so they could have a private night together, but she didn’t know if Cas had ever managed that. Several Intelligence officers had come out to the lab to question Tolemek as Sardelle and Ridge had been leaving.
The newspaper boy is coming, Jaxi announced from her rack in the house. In case you want to tell Tylie not to use her magic for a couple of minutes.
To an outsider, she should just appear to be holding that frog.
You say that as if that in itself isn’t odd.
Well, I think the newspaper boy, postman, and all our neighbors have already identified us as odd.
What neighbors? Nobody has built in the lot across the street, and the people next door moved out shortly after we moved in. Right after their first dragon sighting, I believe.
The newspaper boy rode into sight on his bicycle, peering warily at the house as he came around the trees. He twitched when he saw Sardelle, then stopped, putting his feet on the dusty road. He plucked a rolled newspaper from his canvas tote and, from at least a hundred feet away, lifted his arm to throw it.
“Here, ma’am.”
The newspaper sailed up and landed on the walkway in front of Sardelle with impressive accuracy. She started to call a thank you, but he was already wheeling away at top speed.
The neighbors might not be the only ones who’ve seen a dragon down this street, Jaxi observed.
He seemed alarmed by the sight of me. Sardelle merely sat on the stoop in a summer dress, holding a couple of menus from the caterers she and Ridge were debating on. Watching Tylie work with the frog made her decide to cross off the “frog legs” option on one of the menus.
Maybe he reads the newspapers as he delivers them and has learned of your witchy ways.
Well, no wedding invitation for him. Since the boy had disappeared, Sardelle used her power to levitate the newspaper into her hand. She doubted she wanted to read it, fearing some new slander about her might have been printed, but she glanced down at the front page anyway.
Construction of Dragon Temple Underway on Island North of City.
“Huh.” That wasn’t what she had expected to see. She was also startled that the byline belonged to that
same female reporter who had been writing all those tales about her controlling Ridge.
Expecting a public outcry or some kind of protest about the temple being built on the king’s land—which was usually reserved for recreational use by Iskandian subjects—she skimmed through it.
It doesn’t sound like an outcry to me, Jaxi said. Look at the third line. The great and benevolent god, Bhrava Saruth?
I… see that. The entire article was flattering toward Bhrava Saruth and also stated that his temple would be a magnificent place where humans from far and wide could come to be blessed and, if need be, healed.
Maybe he shape-shifted into that journalist’s form and came into the newspaper office to write the article himself.
We have seen him emulate people perfectly. Sardelle remembered the time Bhrava Saruth had shifted into Ridge’s form.
That might explain why he wasn’t around yesterday. Or at least why we didn’t sense him around. He could have been writing up this propaganda.
Or maybe he was simply influencing the woman and coercing her to do so.
Sardelle couldn’t quite imagine Bhrava Saruth impersonating a journalist to write a story about himself. Despite his claims of being cunning, he didn’t seem tricky or deceitful. He was up front about what he wanted, and he seemed to take it for granted that his followers would provide it for him.
She could imagine him adopting his handsome human form to flirt with the journalist while gazing deeply into her eyes and earnestly explaining his godly desires. While inviting her to a bedroom.
Either way, if he was in human form, it’s unlikely we would have detected his aura from very far away, Jaxi said.
Sardelle nodded. She’d observed before that the dragon presence, something she could usually sense for miles, was far diminished when one shape-shifted into another form.
Look at the last line. Jaxi snickered. I wonder how many people will show up to help.
The closing line invited stalwart humans interested in assisting with the construction to show up each morning for the assignment of tasks.
Oaths (Dragon Blood, Book 8) Page 18
