Dalgren flew nearer. The troops continued to watch him, glad for a break in their routine. Dalgren was careful to pay no attention to the humans gathered below. He swooped above the treetops in large, lazy circles as though hunting for deer. From his vantage point, he would be able to clearly see the black ship tethered to the dock. He would be watching for a signal.
Kate untied the red kerchief from around her neck. She flapped it several times in the air as though to shake out the creases, then let it flutter in the breeze.
“What are you doing?” Jennings demanded.
“Sorry, sir, but the beast makes me nervous,” Kate offered in apology, using the kerchief to wipe her face. “Do you know what they use this gun for?”
“Only the captain and commander know the target,” Jennings grunted. “Stop wasting time and get back to your duties.”
Kate tied the kerchief around her neck again and went back to work, all the while watching Dalgren. He ducked his head and dipped his wings, letting her know he had seen her. He made another sweeping circle, then flew back out into the Breath.
“Good news, sir,” Kate told Franklin that afternoon when he came to make his inspection. “The gun is ready to test. We could do so tomorrow, if you’d like.”
Franklin was pleasantly surprised. “Captain Martin will be pleased. We will schedule the test for early morning. He will want to witness it.”
“We shouldn’t fire the gun around here, sir,” Kate warned. “I have no idea how the magic will work. It might not work at all or we might burn down the forest. We should take the ship out into the Breath.”
“A sensible precaution,” Franklin agreed. “And that will allow us to train the ship’s crew in the use of the weapon.”
The Naofa set sail the next morning with Captain Martin on board along with the crew and some of the Bottom Dwellers. Wearing their smoke-colored spectacles, they still kept to the shadows and squinted in the bright sunlight.
The ship neared the entrance to the harbor and then slowed its speed. Kate did not see Dalgren, but she was confident he was out there somewhere. Now that he had discovered her location, he would take up residence nearby and keep watch.
“Signal the soldiers at the gun emplacements,” Franklin ordered Kate. “Ask if there are any other ships in the vicinity.”
Kate laid out the signal flags and then sent them up.
The soldiers raised flags in turn.
“They say they don’t understand, sir,” Kate reported.
Franklin glanced up at the flags Kate had sent up.
“That’s the wrong flag,” he told Kate.
“Sorry, sir,” Kate said.
The first flags had been a private signal to Dalgren, telling him to meet her tonight. Kate replaced them with the correct flags.
The ship cautiously emerged from the hidden harbor into the Breath and set sail up the deserted coastline. Martin and Franklin observed the landscape through spyglasses, searching for a suitable site to test-fire the weapon.
At last they found what they wanted, seemingly, for Franklin ordered the helmsman to reverse the airscrews, slow the ship’s flight, and then steer the vessel so that the weapon, which was mounted on the forecastle, was aimed at the side of a cliff.
Kate did not see how firing at such an enormous target was going to prove anything. When training her own gun crews, she would launch barrels tethered to small balloons and then order the gun crews to try to blast them out of the sky. They had to make allowances for the wind, the movement of the ship, and a host of other factors in order to hit a target that was bobbing up and down in the sky.
The cliff was miles long and standing still.
Franklin climbed the forecastle to fire the gun. He took his time, loading one of the green crystal discs into the breech, sighting in on his target, adjusting the weapon, taking careful aim.
Kate knew in theory how the weapon should work. Provided her magic worked, firing it was relatively simple. The constructs set in the disc stored a large amount of contramagic energy. When activated, the constructs set into the barrel of the weapon enhanced, channeled, and magnified that energy. She fidgeted nervously, wanting him to get on with it, not liking the thought of what could happen to her if the gun failed.
Franklin fired the weapon. The green beam struck the rock, sending chunks of stone flying, blowing a sizable hole in the cliff face.
Franklin straightened, looked at Martin, who nodded his approval, then ordered the ship to sail over to inspect the hole they had blown in the cliff. Both were impressed at the extent of the damage.
Franklin fired the weapon several more times after that, adjusting the range. Every time he fired, the ship would sail back to the wall and he and Martin would study the results.
Eventually Martin ordered the ship to return to camp. He and Franklin were in an extremely good mood. As they drew near the gun emplacements, Franklin ordered Kate to send up the flags to spell out the same mysterious signal: Talionis.
“That has special significance this day,” Martin said, grinning.
“Indeed it does, sir,” Franklin replied.
The ship sailed into the harbor and the crew tethered it to the dock. Kate lingered on deck, choosing her moment to approach Franklin when everyone else had left the ship.
“Could I speak to you, sir?” Kate asked.
“Of course, Private,” said Franklin. “You have done good work. Captain Martin is thinking of promoting you.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Kate. “I would like your permission to remain on board, continue working. I need to make some refinements to the magic on the green beam gun.”
Franklin frowned. “I see no reason why. The weapon worked well.”
“Yes, but for how long, sir?” Kate argued. “The connection between the magic and the contramagic is tenuous. You’ve seen for yourself how contramagic starts to degrade the magic. If the seventh sigil fails, the contramagic will eat through the magic, and at that point, I don’t know if I could fix it. I would like to find a way to strengthen the bond between the two.”
He regarded her narrowly. “I think you should leave well enough alone.”
Kate shrugged. “Suit yourself, sir. You know best how critical this weapon is to your plans. If the magic fails…”
Franklin was silent, eyeing her, thinking.
“Very well,” he said finally. “I have to meet with Captain Martin now. You can work on it tomorrow.”
“Begging your pardon, sir, but the contramagic could be destroying the magic on every single construct on that gun this very moment,” said Kate. “If we do nothing until morning, I might have to start all over again and that would take days of repair work. If it could be repaired at all by that time.”
Franklin hesitated.
“I can show you what I’m talking about, sir,” Kate offered.
“I have no time. Carry on by yourself, then,” Franklin said grudgingly. “Remember that the gates close at dusk. No one will be around to let you back inside.”
“Yes, sir,” said Kate. “Where is Corporal Jennings?”
“He has other duties. I will check your work first thing in the morning.”
Franklin left the ship and Kate sighed in relief, glad to be rid of Jennings. She climbed the stairs to the forecastle to inspect the green beam gun. The constructs had degraded after use; a natural occurrence, nothing alarming. Quite the opposite. The seventh sigil appeared to strengthen the magic, reduce the possibility of wear and tear. But if Franklin had accepted her offer to inspect the gun, Kate could have pointed out the deterioration to him.
She was working on the magic when she saw Franklin emerge from the cave in company with Jennings. Kate wondered if Franklin had changed his mind and was coming to inflict Jennings on her.
Franklin paid no attention to her, however. Jennings gave an earsplitting whistle. Within a few moments, a griffin appeared, flying down from the mountains.
The beast landed on the dock, not far from the Naofa
. Jennings entered a warehouse and emerged with a saddle and bridle, which he proceeded to strap onto the griffin.
“Here is my report to Colonel Smythe. God grant you a safe journey, Corporal,” Franklin said, handing over a leather pouch. “We leave in a few days for Haever. We will meet you there.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Jennings took the leather pouch and placed it in one of his saddlebags, then put on his helm and mounted the griffin. Franklin watched until he was gone, then returned to the cavern.
“Haever!” Kate said exultantly.
She had been wondering about their destination and now she knew. Once the black ship arrived in Haever, she would have an easy time escaping, lose herself in the crowded city. She did wonder how they would hide a black ship in Haever, but that wasn’t her problem.
The sun began to set, and shadows lengthened. She heard the clang as the sentries closed the gates for the night and grinned.
She went below, sat down on her bed and tried not to think about how hungry she was, for she was missing dinner.
When the darkness deepened, she went back up on deck. The stars were out. A sliver of moon began to rise, but then the clouds rolled in again. Moon and stars vanished.
Kate was not concerned about being missed. No one ever bothered to check on her once lights were out.
She put on her peacoat, for the night was growing cold, then lit a dark lantern and paced the deck, waiting for Dalgren. Every so often, Kate opened the dark lantern, aimed it at the sky, and flashed it three times short and three times long.
The lookouts stationed with the gun emplacements across the harbor might see her signal, but she didn’t think that risk was too great. If the lookouts were even still awake, they would be keeping watch on the Breath, not back in the harbor.
The troop ships rode at anchor at the end of the wharf. Each had a skeleton crew on board, but they had orders not to show a light, for fear a passing ship would see it. They would have set a watch, but not one of great vigilance; no one here thought they had anything to fear.
She heard Dalgren before she saw him. She heard his rasping breath and the creak of his wings and she smelled the faint smell of sulfur that always clung to him. He seemed disembodied, for all she could make out in the gloom were his eyes and his snout. He was aware of the sailors standing watch and he had dived down below the surface of the Breath and was flying up from beneath the ship.
His head was now about even with the keel. Kate leaned over the rail to talk to him.
“I’m glad to see you,” she said. “But you shouldn’t have come after me. You could have died in the Aurora. You should have stayed in Dunlow, earned back your name.”
“You said it yourself, we stand together,” Dalgren returned, lifting himself until he was level with her. “I knew you’d land yourself in some sort of trouble.”
Kate cast a worried glance at the troop ships. They were dark, silent.
“I was going to save the young people, but they didn’t want saving,” she said. “What will you do about your name?”
“While I was Below, Father Jacob took me to Droal’s Cairn. Droal was a dragon who was killed during the war, fighting to save people who didn’t want saving,” said Dalgren. “I didn’t want saving because I was angry and I didn’t think—deep down—that I did anything wrong. I understand now that I fled because I was a coward. I didn’t have guts enough to stay to fight for my beliefs. I can earn my name back anywhere, Kate. The only one who can save me is myself.”
“With maybe a little help from a friend,” said Kate, smiling.
“It appears my friend is the one who needs the help,” said Dalgren. “What are you doing here? Are these people holding you prisoner? Do you need me to help you escape?”
“I was going to ask you, but now I’ve decided to stay.”
Dalgren grunted and cast a glowering glance at the green beam weapon. “What are they planning to do with this piece of augverdef?”
“I don’t know,” said Kate. “I’m trying to find out. Coreg discovered a stash of the weapons in the Aligoes. Speaking of Coreg, that horrible servant of his is here. Trubgek.”
“The human who knows dragon magic,” Dalgren said. “What’s he doing here?”
“I guess he’s working for this army now,” said Kate. “Some colonel sent him. You need to watch out for him.”
“Me? Why?” Dalgren grunted.
“He asked me about you. He knows I warned the Rosian dragons about him and he believes they are hunting for him.”
“He’s probably right. Our magic is born within us. We have learned over centuries the discipline required to wield such vast power. Why do you think I have sworn to never take a human life? Because it would be too easy for me. This human has the power, but not the discipline. Are you in danger from him?” Dalgren demanded.
“I don’t think so,” Kate said hesitantly. “I knew what his name meant, that Trubgek was an insult in the dragon language. He seemed pleased. He seems to think I understand him. I don’t. And I don’t want to.”
Kate reached out her hand to rub Dalgren on his snout. “Just watch out for him.”
“That’s going to be hard when I’ve never set eyes on him,” said Dalgren.
“You’ll know him,” said Kate with a shiver. “You look into his eyes and nothing looks back.”
The clouds were starting to drift away. Kate could already see a few stars and the sliver of a moon. She looked again at the troop ships.
“You better go. Someone might see you. We’re sailing to Haever. Once I’m in a big city, I can easily escape. I will meet you in that cave where you stayed when we first went to work for Sir Henry, the one overlooking the harbor. We’ll ask him for our old job back.”
Dalgren hovered in the air, his wings stirring a gentle breeze. Puffs of smoke trailed out from between his fangs.
“What’s really going on, Kate? Why are you staying?”
Kate gave a faint smile. “Because I need to find out what is really going on. A friend of mine is somehow involved with this army and I don’t think he knows that they are stealing children and salvaging green beam weapons. Once I figure out what they’re plotting, I’m going to tell him.”
“Do I know this friend?” Dalgren asked.
Kate felt herself blushing and was grateful for the darkness. “I doubt you would remember him. Now please go. You’re going to get me into trouble!”
“You can do that without any help from me!” Dalgren grumbled. “I will meet you in Haever. Take care of yourself—if that’s possible.”
“I will,” Kate promised. “And, Dalgren—”
“What?” He snaked his head around.
“We both need saving,” said Kate. “Thank you for coming back for me.”
Dalgren grinned. Flames flashed from between his teeth, reflecting in his eyes. He sank down below the ship, and the mists of the Breath swallowed him up.
FORTY-EIGHT
Mr. Sloan was overseeing rifle drill on a particularly fine morning. The air was crisp and cool. The troops were in high spirits. Rumors had been floating about for a week that they would soon be going into action. The troop transport ships had been refitted and were ready to sail.
When an aide summoned Mr. Sloan to report to Colonel Smythe, he was not surprised to receive orders to start preparing the ships to receive men and supplies.
“I do not yet have a firm date for departure,” Smythe stated. “I am awaiting news from Freya in regard to obtaining a warship but that could come at any time. We must be ready to sail at a moment’s notice. I have sent an urgent message to the marchioness to inform Prince Thomas that the day of his ascension to the throne is almost at hand. He needs to join us here. His Highness will travel with his forces, so we must arrange for his accommodations aboard one of the ships.”
He and Mr. Sloan discussed what needed to be done. Smythe was thorough and efficient in his planning, detailing what work was to be done in advance, such as loading weapons
and supplies, and what had to wait until they had a firm departure date.
“I trust His Highness will arrive in the next day or two,” Smythe added. “We have preparations to make before we sail. I pray God that the queen listens to reason and agrees to our demands and that she will abdicate in favor of Prince Thomas. But we must be prepared for her to resist, in which case she will be arrested and the prince must be ready to lead his people to war.”
“Yes, sir,” said Mr. Sloan, maintaining his calm with difficulty.
“I already have troops in place to prevent the queen’s sister, Elinor, from leaving Rosia. I have given orders to arrest the queen’s half brother, Hugh, who will most certainly attempt to make trouble, as well as the queen’s friends and allies among the Freyan nobility. They will also need to be rendered harmless.”
Smythe did not name Sir Henry, but Mr. Sloan knew with certainty that he would be among those “rendered harmless”—arrested or perhaps even killed.
“I must say that I am disappointed that His Highness is not already here,” Smythe remarked. “He was spending time with his fiancée at the palace of the Duke de Bourlet, but that was weeks ago. The marchioness expected him back before now and she has not heard from him. I hope nothing is wrong.”
Mr. Sloan hoped Prince Thomas had tumbled down the side of a mountain and broken his neck. He went off to carry out his orders.
As he worked, he tried to think of some means of sending a warning to Sir Henry. He contemplated carrying the warning himself and was again deterred by the fact that if he did so, Smythe would realize he was a spy and would alter his plans, rendering worthless the information Mr. Sloan had gleaned.
He had another reason to remain. He was missing pieces of vital information. Sir Henry would want to know where the troops were going to land, for instance, and when Smythe planned to launch the attack. Henry would ask about the Faithful. Mr. Sloan knew they had forces stationed in Freya, ready to assist in the uprising, but he had no idea of their numbers, where they were located, or who was leading them. He could warn Henry that members of the Faithful were in the queen’s inner circle, prepared to do her harm, but such a warning was useless since he did not know who they were.
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