“Right, a threat should be made before sundown. To be polite.”
“Pressure, dear. Pressure.”
Trip yawned and sat down on the temple steps, looking out over his project as dusk deepened.
He’d completed and installed the four engines that would spin the massive propellers that would keep the platform in the air, along with eight crystalline energy sources he’d created. The design had been inspired by the referatu light devices that powered the fliers, but intended from the beginning to provide power for an engine. Trip had also imbued them with chapaharii-sword-like magic to allow them to work alongside the tainted iron. He hoped they would be effective and that they would last, but he had to admit he’d created them intuitively, without much reliance on math or engineering, and time would be the ultimate test. As would their first attempt to lift the platform into the air.
A lot of finishing touches remained such as places for soldiers to be protected from the weather—and dragon fire—when manning the weapons, and the rocket launchers themselves needed to be mounted and tested. But the bare bones were there. And he was exhausted. His brain hurt and even his body hurt from bending over and working. On top of all the mental and physical labor, his inquest was tomorrow.
He groaned and flopped back onto the marble floor of the temple.
Someone in uniform was walking toward him with a lantern in one hand and a jug in the other. General Zirkander.
Trip was surprised to see him. He had let everyone else go for the night, since they were almost done except for the fine work that required good lighting and rested minds. Even Bhrava Saruth had gone off somewhere, perhaps to be worshipped by one of his nubile female devotees. Trip had been alone for the last hour, trying not to think about what he would do in the morning. He had to go to the inquest—there was no doubt about that—but should he use his power to attempt to influence people? Or would that backfire on him and provide support for the opposition’s arguments about how vile sorcerers were?
Maybe General Zirkander would have some advice.
“Sardelle said you were still out here,” Zirkander said, ambling toward Trip.
“Here and my barracks room are the only places I’m legally allowed to be, sir.” Trip’s weary brain kicked into gear, and he realized he needed to salute. He scrambled to his feet to do so.
Zirkander waved for him to sit back down. “I would have guessed a bunk in a barracks room would be a more appealing place to sleep, but then, I haven’t been out here at night. Is that marble floor more comfortable than it looks?”
“No, sir.” Trip sat on the steps again. “The sound of the ocean is nice, and it is peaceful. Damp, but not too cold this time of year.”
Zirkander sat next to him, setting the lantern to one side, then offering Trip the large stoppered brown jug.
“Beer, sir?” Trip asked.
“Beer.”
“I thought you might be coming to give me advice about tomorrow.”
“Beer is much better than advice.” Zirkander removed the stopper and took a swig to demonstrate.
The second time he offered the jug, Trip accepted it and drank. The rich stout flowed down his throat easily. Apparently, generals could afford better beer than captains.
“Though if you want advice, mine would be to get hammered tonight and let tomorrow take care of itself.”
“Tempting, sir, but I’m not convinced tomorrow will take care of anything without my influence. I’m afraid… uhm, Rysha brought me one of the newspapers, so I wouldn’t be surprised when extra accusations came up in the inquest.”
“I’m not sure a newspaper is what I would want my girlfriend to bring me if I was incarcerated in a dragon temple.”
“She also brought cookies.”
“Ah, that’s an improvement.”
“Except that there were only three by the time she got here. I guess Shulina Arya ate the rest. Still, they were good. Cinnamon raisin.”
“If it makes you feel better, the oven is constantly running at my house, and I hardly ever get anything but scraps.”
Zirkander took the jug back and drank again. Maybe he planned to get hammered too. Trip hoped that wasn’t a reflection on how he believed the inquest would turn out.
“I’m not convinced that weapons are the best way to deal with dragons,” Zirkander said. “I’m disappointed that Angulus didn’t take me up on my suggestion of lobbing baked goods onto Cofah shores every week, thus to ensure all dragons would feel compelled to live over there. Sort of like installing a bird feeder.”
“Does he take you up on any of your suggestions, sir?” Trip smiled.
Rysha had described how her meeting with Angulus had gone before and after Zirkander showed up. Trip had been surprised to learn that Angulus didn’t seem to love Zirkander—or his suggestions. The general did have a mouthy streak that not everyone appreciated.
“More often when we’re having private meetings than in front of other people. But this was my suggestion, that you be sent out here for your punishment.” Zirkander thumped him on the arm. “You’re welcome.”
“I can’t be upset since I’ve gotten to work on my project. I am somewhat distressed by how many of Bhrava Saruth’s trysts I’ve had to witness.”
“He trysts out in the open?”
“Often in that throne in the main room. Sometimes in the back—there’s a large bed in his private room, which is full of non-edible things that people have brought him. I have to confess, I didn’t truly think he had worshippers, that anyone fell for that.”
Too late to take back the words, Trip remembered that Zirkander had admitted to following the dragon once. Trip had assumed it was a joke or something done to appease Bhrava Saruth, but who knew?
Zirkander smirked. “I suspect most of them are using him, pretending to worship him in order to get what they need. And I don’t think he cares if his followers’ worship is heartfelt and real or a bit of a sham. He just likes the attention.”
“Multiple times a day, from what I’ve seen.”
“I would have thought you were too busy working outside to notice the attention he gets. Multiple times a day.”
“I was, but I can sense, uhm, strong feelings or emotions. And sometimes, everybody out here can hear the strong feelings of emotion.” Trip took a drink, a long one this time, to wash away the memories.
“I’m sure he’s using his dragonly, uh, what’s it called?”
“Scylori.”
“Right. I’m sure his allure pulls people to him, but he does genuinely heal them and bless them. I’d assumed his blessings would be a joke, but he gave me one three years ago, and I still heal a lot faster than normal. I can nick myself shaving in the morning, and it’s completely healed by the time I get dressed. For you, that’s probably normal, but my blood is plain and boring.”
Trip was glad the people who came to Bhrava Saruth got something out of it and weren’t only being used to satisfy the dragon’s urges. The whole setup with the temple and the fake religion reminded him uncomfortably of Agarrenon Shivar and his cult. Bhrava Saruth seemed much more benign, but Trip still hated the idea of anyone using power to influence other people for their own gain.
As he wondered if he needed to do that very thing tomorrow.
He groaned and dropped his face between his knees.
“I know the beer and the company are good, so I’m going to assume something else is disturbing you,” Zirkander said.
“I’m just conflicted. Tomorrow, do I just sit there like a lump and let my fate be decided by a heartless military judge and some young lieutenant law defender who never even came out to speak to me? Or do I use my power to influence people—the judge, I suppose is the most important one—and make sure things come out in my favor? I know I can walk away at any time, no matter what happens, but then what? I would be an outcast, and I could never come back to my unit, never visit my grandparents in Charkolt, never spend time with Rysha again unless it was in secret… She dese
rves better than that, than some criminal she has to skulk around to see.”
Tears stung Trip’s eyes, and he looked out at the night and away from Zirkander, embarrassed. He hadn’t wanted to break down in front of his commanding officer.
Zirkander patted him on the back. “I don’t think it’ll come to that. Look, the king is on your side, even if he’s trying to appear like he’s not. He’s got an announcement tomorrow that’s going to give the newspapers something scintillating to talk about, and they’re going to forget all about you and your inquest. I doubt any journalists will even show up. I gather he’s delighted that he got a yes and gets to make the announcement regardless of your situation, but he was pleased to hold off a couple of days and strategically make it tomorrow morning, to take some of the attention off you.”
Trip wiped his eyes and looked at Zirkander, trying to puzzle through what he was talking about. He didn’t mean to read his commanding officer’s mind, but Zirkander was smirking and thinking about Kaika and Angulus holding hands, then kissing in front of a crowd.
“He got a yes… to a proposal?” Trip hadn’t known Angulus and Kaika were that committed. Though he’d seen one of their reunion kisses and heard rumors that they’d been seeing each other for years, so maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised.
“He did.”
“She’s not noble, right?”
Zirkander laughed. “About as far from it as you can get. A lot like me. Though I don’t think her family tree has as much dead wood on it as mine.”
“Huh.” Trip wondered if it was selfish of him to promptly think of himself. If the non-noble Major Kaika could marry the king, wasn’t it possible that the non-noble Captain Trip could marry a certain Lieutenant-Lady Ravenwood?
“Don’t worry too much about tomorrow, Trip,” Zirkander said. “It’s sure to be interesting, but if you’re lucky, it will not be because of you.”
“I would love for my life to be un-interesting, sir. Aside from slaying dragons and defending Iskandia.”
“A good goal to strive for.” Zirkander placed the jug on the stairs at Trip’s feet, then stood up. “I better get home to Sardelle and the children. Just wanted to make sure you had the means to get hammered if you so wish. And that you’ll be all right. Will you be?”
Trip also rose to his feet, feeling he shouldn’t sit while a general stood. “I think so, sir. Thanks for coming out here.”
“I’ll be at the inquest tomorrow too. Several of us will be. Just in case someone needs to glare daggers at this Lord Lockvale. You know Wolf Squadron isn’t afraid of any nobles.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Zirkander gave him another pat on the shoulder and turned to leave.
“Sir?” Trip asked, glad for the support but also wondering if… Was Wolf Squadron protecting their own just because the pilots always would? Or did they believe he was innocent? “You know I didn’t do it, right? Hurt him or even threaten him?”
“Of course,” Zirkander said simply, tilting his head.
Trip brushed his mind, checking to see if he was telling the truth. And… he was. Trip had to blink away tears again. He hadn’t been here in the capital, working with Wolf Squadron and under General Zirkander for that long, so it touched him that his commander believed him and knew he wasn’t the kind of person who would use his power in a vile way.
“Thank you, sir.”
Zirkander gave him a lazy salute and headed off into the night.
22
Full darkness fell as Shulina Arya sailed farther south, away from the city and toward the oceanfront property Aunt Tadelay had described as the Lockvale estate. Rysha had known vaguely where it was, but she’d never had a reason to visit it since the Lockvales hadn’t had any children her age when she’d been growing up. If not for the dragon’s keen eyes, she never would have located the castle-like manor perched on and blending into a rocky bluff overlooking the ocean. Few gas lamps burned in or around the structure, and smoke only wafted from one of the many chimneys.
Rysha imagined the view was magnificent during the day and was surprised the Lockvales were dealing with financial difficulties.
There are no sheep, no cows, no chickens, and no farmlands down there, Shulina Arya observed. Nothing but rocks.
I’m sorry I was ready to go before you found a succulent sheep to sink fang and talon into, Rysha thought, believing the dragon was upset that she hadn’t gotten her dinner.
No, Storyteller, I am merely observing that the land where this castle exists has few of the things humans covet to sustain them. Dragons would also find it unappealing.
Ah, I see now. Yes, if the Lockvales weren’t able to derive much income from their land, that could explain some of the financial problems. Let’s go to the front door, please.
Shall I remain in my dragon form? I very much like your aunt’s idea of intimidating this man, and perhaps incinerating him, thus protecting your mate.
We should try to avoid incinerating Iskandian subjects. Not that the thought didn’t have a slight appeal to Rysha. If a dragon incinerated a man when nobody was around to see it, who would even know who had been responsible? Evidence would be at a minimum. Also, it looks like you’re too large to fit through the front door in your current form.
Yes, this is true. Human doors are so miniscule.
Actually, the large carved-oak doors at the front of the manor towered impressively to Rysha’s eye, and perhaps Shulina Arya could make it through them, but she imagined the rooms inside would prove a tight fit.
They landed on the front walkway, and Rysha slid off the dragon’s back. Can you tell if he’s inside, by chance?
She didn’t know if Shulina Arya had taken note of Lockvale the night they’d flown over the highway where he and his cronies had been watching the fire. Rysha hadn’t noticed them until Trip said something.
There are two men inside, Shulina Arya said.
Rysha tapped her fingers on her thigh. It would be more convenient if nobody but Lockvale was home to witness her pressuring him. Admittedly, she didn’t know if he was one of the two men inside. It was possible she was too late, that Lockvale had gone up to the city a day early to avoid having to get up early to travel for the inquest.
One man is up a set of stairs in a small room reading a book. The second is downstairs, not far from this door, in a much larger room with many seats. He is eating and has many newspapers spread around him.
Does he seem smug as he gloats over articles about Trip?
Rysha didn’t truly expect the dragon to be able to discover that, but Shulina Arya said, He does seem smug. And most contented. The way Bhrava Saruth acts when he’s getting belly rubs.
Let’s hope that’s him. Rysha strode toward the door. And that the other man is far enough away that he doesn’t hear us talking to Lockvale. It’s probably a butler or other servant who’s retired for the night.
Except Rysha expected to have to do more than talk. She touched the hilt of Dorfindral, glad she had the sword along. When soldiers weren’t on missions, their weapons were usually checked into the armory, as Rysha’s pistols and rifle currently were, but she’d argued that the chapaharii blades were too valuable to keep in there. It had helped that the armory sergeant had possessed a smidgen of dragon blood, and Dorfindral had flared threateningly at him at the suggestion of being placed inside.
Rysha tried to open the front door, deciding that sneaking up on the man so he didn’t have time to think, would be preferable to knocking and waiting. Lockvale might not even answer the door at night, assuming that nothing but trouble came visiting after dark, especially these days.
“He would be right,” she murmured and stepped back. The door hadn’t budged. “Shulina Arya?”
Rysha didn’t hear the click of the lock over the rumble of waves crashing below, but she did detect the faint thump of a bar being set aside. This time, she succeeded at pulling open the heavy door.
She stepped into a grand foyer with s
tone walls, a stone floor, and a timber ceiling high above. All manner of portraits of deceased Lockvales were on display.
Shulina Arya came in and stood beside her. She had switched to her human form with two pigtails sticking out to either side of her head and a mischievous ready-for-action gleam in her violet eyes.
“Ah.” Rysha didn’t want to be fussy when the dragon was helping her for no reason other than friendship, but… “Could you perhaps choose a more intimidating form?”
Shulina Arya looked down at herself, her pigtails flopping forward as she did so.
“How about a tiger?” Rysha suggested.
That is a feline, yes? I do not believe I’ve seen a tiger before. We must take a trip all around this new world, so I can observe all the mighty predators.
“I’ll take you to the zoo in the capital as soon as there’s time.” Rysha liked traveling as much as the next person, but her superiors might object to her taking months off to show the dragon the animals of the world.
Shulina Arya looked at her, perhaps getting an image of a tiger out of her mind. Then the dragon blurred and shifted before Rysha’s eyes, turning into an orange-and-black-striped cat with a long tail. A small cat.
“Larger, please.” Rysha re-formed her tiger image in her mind—it probably didn’t help that she’d only seen them at the zoo as a child—and placed it next to a human for comparison.
Oh, yes. A truly magnificent predator! Shulina Arya shifted again, then stood on all fours beside Rysha, their heads at the same height.
That was larger than Rysha had imagined, but she didn’t complain. An oversized tiger should be even more intimidating. The fangs were certainly long and visible.
“Good, let’s find him.” Rysha nodded for Shulina Arya, with her magical senses, to lead her to the man with the newspapers.
The dragon padded toward one of multiple halls that opened off the foyer, soundless on those cat’s feet. She soon stopped in front of an open door.
Rysha peered into a large sitting room with multiple fireplaces and a stone floor decorated with bearskin rugs. Antique swords, axes, and firearms hung on the walls, along with dozens of stuffed animal heads. Several old suits of armor towered about the room on pedestals.
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