Oaths (Dragon Blood, Book 8)

by Lindsay Buroker

  She’s half-asleep.

  Good. It’ll be easier to heal her if she’s not awake and fighting me. Dealing with a fungal infection is more work than healing a cut or a broken bone.

  Fern’s eyes opened when Sardelle returned.

  “The cats are eating ham,” Sardelle told her.

  “Good.” Fern shifted to a sitting position to accept the cup. “I’ve been so tired this week, Sardelle. I’m not used to getting sick. Other people get sick, and I take care of them. That’s how it works.”

  “It sounds logical to me.” Sardelle sat on the chair near the couch.

  Fern coughed, fighting to keep from spilling her tea. Sardelle was tempted to sit beside her and rest an arm around her shoulders but feared being pushed away. She would let Fern finish her tea, then see if she could use her power to tempt her to relax, to fall asleep. It would take her about an hour to work on that infection, she judged.

  Fern drank from her cup. “My stomach muscles and back hurt from all the coughing I’ve been doing. Do you think it’s something bad?”

  “Nothing you won’t recover from.”

  Especially with your help, Jaxi said.

  “You’re a very strong woman,” Sardelle said, hoping Fern wouldn’t see it as unwelcome flattery. She truly was strong, living alone out here with her husband rarely heard from and even more rarely seen.

  “If I don’t make it,” Fern said, wrapping her hands around the cup, “I want you to know… Look, I’m a little scared of what people have been saying this week. Doing.” she glanced warily at Sardelle.

  Sardelle resisted the urge to interrupt her, to tell her that she would make it, that she would heal her as soon as Fern fell asleep. Instead, she sipped her tea and tried to look encouraging.

  “But I can tell that you care about Ridge and that he adores you. And you don’t seem to mind that he’s sarcastic and leads a maniacal life at times.” Fern pursed her lips. “I haven’t noticed that his promotion has kept him out of the sky or from doing crazy things.”

  Sardelle decided not to mention how Ridge had almost died at Galmok Mountain. Despite his fears about being chained to a desk as a general, he did still manage to get himself in trouble frequently.

  “And you’re nice. And helpful.” Fern glanced at the door as a large black cat ambled out of the kitchen, its belly full.

  Sardelle smiled, finding the praise encouraging. Until Fern broke into another coughing fit.

  “I better get some rest,” Fern said when she finished. She set the cup on the table and lay back on the couch again. “But just in case, I want you to know, I’m happy he’s found you. And that you’re getting married.”

  “Thank you. I’m glad to hear that.”

  “I do hope to live long enough to see babies. Witches can have babies, right?” Fern twisted her neck to look at Sardelle.

  “Yes.” Sardelle decided not to correct her on terminology. “And actually… it’s early to make announcements, but I told Ridge, so I should tell you too. I’m pregnant. If all goes well, next spring, Ridge should be a father.”

  “Truly?”

  “Yes.”

  “And I’d finally be a grandmother. If I live that long.”

  “You will. You can’t pass away with so many cats relying on you. And birds.” Sardelle glanced toward the cages hanging from the ceiling. Maybe because night had fallen, the various birds inside hadn’t made much noise when people had come in.

  “Will the baby be… uhm.”

  “Magical?” Sardelle guessed. “It’s likely he or she will have a little aptitude, but lots of people with dragon blood never do any training and lead perfectly normal lives.” She didn’t know if she should hint at that, since she would naturally want to teach her own child enough magic to defend himself or herself—and help others if possible. But Fern had plenty of time to get used to that idea. Most children didn’t show any aptitude until they were four or five. “He or she could grow up to be an artist or a pilot.”

  “Seven gods, not that.” Fern managed a wan smile before breaking into another coughing fit.

  She sounds awful, Jaxi said. I’ll put her to sleep if you don’t.

  Will you also heal her?

  No, that’s your job. Unless you want me to try to incinerate microscopic fungi spores.

  I’ll take care of it. Sardelle sent a gentle feeling of weariness toward Fern.

  She probably hadn’t been sleeping well of late because it didn’t take much magical influence to convince her to close her eyes and relax. As sleep overtook her, Sardelle shifted positions to sit next to her on the couch. She remembered healing Duck in this very spot.

  Your memories of this house aren’t particularly inspiring, Jaxi said as Sardelle settled in, closing her eyes and touching Fern’s shoulder.

  There were some good times here.

  Are you referring to when you and your soul snozzle rutted with abandoned against his mother’s door?

  Not… specifically.

  I don’t remember anything else good happening here.

  I’ll see if I can make a list later. After Fern is better. Now, if you’ll give me some solitude, please.

  As you wish. I’ll see if Bhrava Saruth has succeeded in accumulating a vast pig following yet.

  Ridge knocked on the king’s office door, though the lack of guards standing beside it suggested Angulus wasn’t in. He arched his eyebrows at the guard who had accompanied him up here.

  “Sorry, sir. He has a meeting with General Ort and Admiral Hamilin soon. He should be back here shortly.”

  “Maybe he wanted to catch the juggling act.”

  “Not particularly,” came Angulus’s dry voice from the stairway. He strode down the hall, wiping his hands as if he’d just been doing some dirty manual labor. Four expressionless bodyguards trailed him. “Lady Covewatch arranged the entertainment. She arranged this whole festival. Thought the city needed a chance to see that the castle is still in good condition—or should I say that it’s in good condition again—after the various attacks this spring. She did pointedly bring in a music troupe with lute players for my listening pleasure, which I appreciate, but I’d appreciate it more if I didn’t have to give a speech afterward.”

  Ridge had a vague notion of Lady Covewatch being some well-connected noblewoman, social maven, and relative to Angulus, but he didn’t think he had ever met her. The queen had always arranged festivals and social events when she had been alive. Ridge imagined Captain Kaika doing those things someday, but he highly doubted she and Angulus would ever get married. In part because of her lack of noble blood and in part because of… everything else.

  “Are you supposed to be this candid with your military officers, Sire?” Ridge stepped aside so Angulus could enter his office.

  “Probably not, but my bodyguards grow weary of me complaining solely to them.”

  The two bodyguards in the back exchanged quick glances with each other. In agreement? The ones in the front remained stoic and expressionless, as seemed to be a requirement for the job.

  “Come in, Zirkander. I was expecting Ort. Is he coming?”

  “Yes, Sire. We met this afternoon, and he went off to find Therrik to protect your castle from magic users.” Ridge followed Angulus into the office, stopping on a rug and clasping his hands behind his back. “I’m not sure where Ort is now, but he must be on his way. He also asked me to find Sardelle so she could lend her efforts to defending the castle, but I wasn’t able to locate her.”

  “She probably went after your mother.” Angulus glanced at a window with extremely large and fresh gouges in the sill.

  “Is my mother all right? I was wondering how the meeting went.”

  “It could have been better. We were interrupted by a dragon bringing me a Cofah spy.”

  “Oh? I have news for you that may be related to that.”

  Angulus blew out what might have been an exasperated breath. “You’re making it sound like my castle is in danger of being besi
eged at any moment, despite the fact that my intelligence officers haven’t suggested anything more than increased security and an escalation to a higher threat level until we find this Dakrovian shaman. Care to explain?”

  “Certainly, Sire. First off, the assassin Ahnsung told Lieutenant Ahn that he’s been made aware of a large reward that’s recently been posted for the acquisition of your dragon blood. Second, Ort and I thought the shaman, if he knows about this festival, might try to sneak into the castle tonight while there are people roaming everywhere to try to get it. We don’t have any evidence. Just guesses.”

  “I’ve arranged for the dragon blood to be moved.”

  “Good.” Ridge remembered Angulus’s hand dusting. Had he moved it himself? “That should take care of part of our problem, assuming the blood is insulated somehow. I know Sardelle can sense it from quite a distance, so I assume this Dakrovian could too.”

  “It’s in the same iron boxes that it’s been stored in here for months. Sardelle said she couldn’t sense the blood unless she was right next to the boxes, and even then, the signature was faint.”

  “And it’s going somewhere more secure than the castle?”

  “It’s going somewhere I don’t think most people will think to look for it.” Angulus smiled tightly.

  From his vagueness, Ridge assumed he wouldn’t be told the location. That was fine with him. He couldn’t hide his thoughts from mages—as past experiences blatantly showed him—so he would rather not have that knowledge.

  “That’s all I have to report, Sire. Oh, and that Therrik is on the grounds with Kasandral. He reported to the captain of the guard, I believe, but asked me to see if you want him somewhere specific.” Asked. Ordered. Ridge decided not to worry about semantics.

  “Somewhere he won’t alarm Lady Covewatch’s guests overly much.”

  “Too late for that. He almost made Tolemek wet himself when he yanked open the door to our carriage, green sword blazing.”

  Angulus’s eyebrows twitched, and Ridge reminded himself that urination shouldn’t be mentioned in the presence of royalty.

  “I’ve worked with Dr. Targoson often enough now to know he’s not easily alarmed. It’s more likely, he reached for some vial to throw at Therrik.”

  “Yes, I’m sure that’s it, Sire.”

  Footsteps pounded in the hallway outside, and the bodyguards stirred near the still-open door. One reached for a pistol, but stopped before he touched it, so Ridge assumed someone familiar was coming.

  “General Ort and Admiral Hamilin here to see you, Sire,” one of the guards announced, holding a hand up to stop the men.

  “Let them in,” Angulus said. “It sounds like my submarine meeting just got more interesting.”

  “Sire,” the two gray-haired officers said as one as they stepped in, both saluting.

  Admiral Hamilin, a block of a fellow with jowls that flapped when he walked quickly, ignored Ridge and addressed Angulus first.

  “I have an update on the enemy submarine, Sire. As you ordered, I brought up two of our submarines from Doloon Base, and they’re patrolling the harbor and coastline near the city. One of them spotted an unknown craft only a couple of miles to the south of the butte—they drew close enough to get a visual on it. It seemed to be heading for the harbor, and our submarine gave chase, but the enemy disappeared from sight and also went silent to our craft’s listening station. I received my last update less than thirty minutes ago. They haven’t been able to relocate it and now—” Hamilin gestured to Ort.

  “A fire mysteriously started in the harbor, Sire. A large one. It’s threatening two canneries, a warehouse, and all of the second section of docks.”

  “Maybe Therrik should take the sword for a visit down there,” Angulus said.

  “I bet it’s just a distraction, Sire,” Ridge said. “Damn, I wish I’d been able to find Sardelle. Shall I take a flier out to my mother’s house to see if she’s there? Or I could run back to my house. Tylie was there, as well as the soulblade Wreltad. He’s useful.”

  Ridge now wished he’d thought to grab the soulblade and bring him to the castle. He’d been skeptical that anything would truly happen tonight, so soon after they had routed the shaman—or at least his hawk. A foolish assumption.

  Angulus scowled. “That’s the sword that wiped your memory and made you think it was a good idea to bring an enemy sorceress into the castle, isn’t it?”

  Ridge fought not to squirm under Angulus’s glower. “I didn’t think it was a good idea. It was more that I had no choice because I was powerless to fight them.” He grimaced. That didn’t make him sound any better. “Wreltad didn’t approve of what his handler was doing, and he is on our side now. I’m sure he could help in this. Though I would rather find Sardelle.”

  “I’d definitely prefer Sardelle,” Angulus said. “Though I’d like to think our military capable of dealing with one shaman.” His scowl wasn’t as harsh for Ort and Hamilin, but they both winced. “Now I wish I’d kept Bhrava Saruth here too.”

  “I don’t think you can keep a dragon against his wishes,” Ridge said.

  “I could have had more cinnamon buns brought up.”

  “Ah, that would have done it.”

  “I’ve alerted the infantry company captains, and we’ve got men patrolling the waterfront as well as helping the firemen, Sire,” Ort said. “But it seems this shaman has some way to turn invisible.”

  Everyone looked at Ridge as if to ask whether that was possible. As if he was an expert on magic.

  “I know Sardelle had a hard time detecting the submarine,” Ridge said. “Even Phelistoth did, it sounds like. Tolemek implied this shaman is a scientist, or at least a chemist, like him. Sardelle mentioned he might have constructed the submarine with lasting magic built into it. I know she can make it so people look right at her and don’t see her.”

  “Wonderful,” Angulus grumbled. “Dismissed.” He waved at Ort and Hamilin but held a hand up to Ridge. “Zirkander,” he said as the other men walked out, “tell Therrik to patrol the grounds. No, I better come tell him myself. And yes, as much as I hate to rely on Sardelle, it might be a good idea to have her here. Something is clearly afoot. You can take one of my fliers parked in the back.”

  “Yes, Sire.”

  As they headed for the door, a strange sensation came over Ridge, like ants crawling on his skin. Magic.

  Angulus paused and frowned at him.

  “Do you feel something too?” Ridge asked.

  “Yes.”

  The door slammed shut in front of them.

  “Er,” Ridge said, “I hope that was just one of your guards thinking you wanted some private time.”

  “Alone with you?”

  “I’m charming and sexy, Sire. Sardelle told me so.”

  Apparently not deeming that worth an answer, Angulus ran to the door and grabbed the knob. He tried to turn it, but it didn’t budge. He pulled on the door, but it also did not budge.

  He cursed and ran to the back door, the one that led to the rest of his suite. He was able to open it, and disappeared into his sitting room, but more curses soon flowed out of it. Ridge had a feeling all the doors leading out of the suite were locked now.

  Ridge knocked on the main door and called, “Are any of the king’s stalwart guards out there? Anyone with a key? Or a sledgehammer?”

  Angulus ran back into the office, and Ridge thought he might glare at that last comment—his castle had taken enough damage already this year—but he ignored it and went to try the window.

  Ridge knocked again. There were always at least two guards out there if Angulus was present. Could they not hear him? Or had something been done to them? Ort and Hamilin had just left. What could have happened in that thirty seconds?

  “This window was opened a few hours ago,” Angulus growled, rattling the panes as he tugged at the latch. “I know it works.”

  He grabbed a heavy stone tape dispenser off his desk and smashed it against one of the panes,
but it made a strange twang noise and bounced off.

  “What the hells?” he demanded.

  “I believe someone wants you to stay put, Sire.”

  “That’s unacceptable.”

  Ridge decided this wasn’t the time to make further jokes about his charm and sexiness. He tried banging on the door again, the very stout oak door that wouldn’t have been easy to force open even if it weren’t magically reinforced. Once again, nobody answered.

  15

  “You’ll have to leave your pistol here, Lieutenant,” a guard standing next to something that looked like a mobile closet said. Or maybe it was a mobile armory. “No weapons allowed in the gathering.” He nodded toward the jugglers and lute players. People with painted faces and wearing colorful costumes ambled through the crowd, offering to do tricks for people.

  Cas reluctantly pulled out her pistol. Other men and women in uniform had done the same, laying them in slots with names on them in the armory. She supposed she wouldn’t need her firearm to munch on snacks and watch a lutist play.

  “He has a weapon.” Tolemek pointed at Therrik’s back. He’d strode through the checkpoint with Kasandral in hand, the sword no longer glowing now that he’d moved away from Tolemek.

  The guard’s lips thinned in disapproval. “He’s special.”

  “No kidding,” Cas said.

  After handing over her pistol, she stepped forward and waited to see if Tolemek would be patted down. She hadn’t seen any of the other guests getting that treatment, but many of the guards still mistrusted him and remembered his moniker of Deathmaker.

  The guard did eye him, but he didn’t wear any open weapons, and the man waved him through.

  “Are you armed with any potions?” Cas murmured as he stepped up to her side again.

  “You mean scientific formulas?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Then possibly so, but I wasn’t removing them to stick into that grubby weapons locker. There were grease stains and who knows what else in the cubbies.”

  “And here I’ve been told I was the one with the sharp eyes.”