“Just how long have people been having sex with dragons, anyway?”
Tolemek looked at Ridge. “I see this is an important conversation you’re having.”
Ridge held up a hand so he could think, Never mind that. Are you telling me that the queen is definitely not a powerful sorcerer?
Definitely not. She could conceivably know a few tricks, but she wouldn’t be a threat in a battle, and she certainly wouldn’t be able to sense the crystals of your fliers. However, as I was about to say when you interrupted me, she seems to be affiliated with the Heartwood Sisterhood.
Is that the organization that’s been harassing Sardelle?
We don’t have proof of that, other than a stack of pamphlets in the queen’s drawer, but the organization has been around for more than a thousand years, and they’ve objected to human-dragon sex since the beginning.
So, are they active again now because they know there’s a dragon in the world? Ridge scratched his jaw. Even if he hadn’t known about the dragon until he had been sent to Cofahre, the attacks on Sardelle had started just before that. Someone else could have known about the dragon earlier than he had been informed. After all, someone had known to send Ahnsung to try and get rid of it.
Maybe they’re concerned that Phelistoth is going to fly over here and sex up all the young virgins.
Ridge shuddered. He hadn’t found anything alluring about the powerful creature. Mostly, he had been trying not to crawl under a table and hide when that big reptilian eye had focused on him. But Tolemek’s sister had been fearless around the creature. Maybe women would be more likely to be drawn to him.
Technically, the Sisterhood objected to young men being seduced by female dragons.
I had no idea the world used to be so strange.
Says the man who flies about in a mechanical contraption powered by a light fixture.
“You might want to finish it up, so we can plan something.” Tolemek pointed to the smoke. “I assume we’re not going to ride straight up to the bridge over the canyon.”
“No.” Ridge pointed ahead and to the left. A few farms still dotted the terrain, but Crazy Canyon was considered a park, and the quarter mile on either side of the canyon was dominated by beach grass and stunted trees. “See that path? We’ll take it and head down to the beach and then go into the canyon through the mouth.”
Ridge made himself watch the grass on both sides as they headed down the path, though his gaze kept being pulled toward the smoke. They had landed three fliers in the canyon, which meant three crystals that could have been stolen. If he had needed another reason to dread reporting in, he had it. He wondered what rank he would have at the end of all this, or if he would have a rank at all. He couldn’t predict what would happen if he showed up at the castle to take blame for Kaika’s presence. A part of him wanted to plan another incursion, to sneak in and rescue her without being seen, but that would be one more bullet shot into the already crashing flier that was his career.
Seven gods, you’re even more depressing to travel with than Sardelle.
Sorry.
As Ridge and Tolemek followed the cliff along the beach to the mouth of the canyon, the air smelled of burning wreckage, as well as salt water and seaweed. When the group had landed, they had perched the fliers on a ledge halfway up a canyon wall, a ledge covered with brush that they had painstakingly used to camouflage their craft. Whoever had found them must have known exactly where they were. He didn’t believe that Duck had been doing something foolish such as standing naked in one of the cockpits and singing ballads dedicated to lost loves.
That’s a somewhat more interesting thought than your earlier ones.
Duck naked?
Duck singing. I enjoy ballads.
When they had gone as far through the scrubby growth along the floor of the canyon as they could, Ridge and Tolemek found a place to leave the horses, then continued on foot. Ridge walked softly, trying to listen for the sounds of voices or other signs of humans, but the drone of the ocean made it hard to detect subtle noises.
There’s nobody here. Jaxi sounded disappointed.
You’re certain? Ridge was disappointed too. It would have been nice if something could have gone their way, if they could have questioned someone from that organization.
Perhaps the answers you seek will be in the pamphlet Sardelle absconded with.
Let’s hope.
They had to climb to reach the ledge from this side, and Ridge scrambled over the lip of it first. The sight of smoldering wood and twisted and blackened metal made him sick. Pieces had been blown away and flung all over the ledge, some falling all the way to the stream below. Little of the original shapes of the fliers remained.
He told himself that they were just machines, that he shouldn’t be emotionally attached, but it was hard not to mourn their loss. More, it was hard not to be angry at whoever had deprived the capital of craft that could have been used to defend against enemies.
Feeling numb, he walked across the ledge, staring down at the wreckage and looking for… he wasn’t sure what. A clue. A clue as to why this had been done and how those women had found the fliers to do it in the first place.
“Zirkander.” Tolemek pointed down at something.
Ridge climbed over a log and found him looking at a charred seat that had been thrown clear of one of the cockpits. Someone had pinned a note to it with a dagger.
“Subtle.” Ridge freed the paper and unfolded it. He read the short missive, then grimly shared the contents aloud. “Those who fraternize with witches will see all that they love destroyed. It’s not signed.”
Tolemek stared into the distance, maybe wondering if he would be as much of a target as Sardelle in all of this. Had the queen been the one to close his lab? Was it possible she knew of his blood, as well as his history and reputation?
Jaxi, can those who have dragon blood recognize it in others?
Not necessarily. Sardelle and I can, she because she was a teacher and learned to recognize those who would have talent, and I because I have a powerful enough nose to sniff such details out.
Since she hadn’t cared for his earlier dog analogy, Ridge tamped down an impulse to imagine Jaxi as a bloodhound. For those with the more diluted blood you talked about, it wouldn’t be possible to tell?
Only through deed, or perhaps if they were in close contact for a while, they might get a hunch.
Ridge walked as they discussed, looking for more clues, ones that hadn’t been so intentionally left, ones that might tell more.
Someone might figure it out through investigating one’s history too, Jaxi added. Your Apex realized what Tolemek was by researching what he had done and understanding enough science to know that there couldn’t be a mundane explanation for all that Tolemek had created.
Yes, if Apex had figured it out, it was possible that someone else could have. Maybe the queen did more than knitting and making doilies in her spare time.
She also enjoys mystery and romance novels.
Yes, and that was why Ridge had a hard time imagining her as being behind anything. If she had been making pamphlets for the organization, maybe it was because she had been the secretary or head crafts lady. Maybe they had wanted decorative pages full of glitter and embroidered edging.
I don’t know anything about her, but underestimating her based on her interests might not be smart, Jaxi suggested.
Yes, you’re right. I need more information. I’m guessing. It’s frustrating. Ridge kicked a smoldering seat cushion. It flipped over a few times before landing, and something on the bottom caught his eye. He was intimately familiar with every part of a flier—hells, he had helped that engineer at the mines reconstruct one from parts—and he knew there wasn’t anything attached to the bottoms of the seats, aside from two metal strips that allowed them to be bolted to the frame.
“Probably just dirt,” he mumbled, but he hurried to the cushion for a closer look.
He stared down at it. It wasn??
?t dirt. Half expecting a jolt, he prodded the decorative piece of metal, a round iron pin about an inch and a half wide. Nothing happened.
Jaxi? Is this… something?
Given the definition of the word, I believe that qualifies.
I mean is it magic?
No. I don’t sense anything at all from it.
“I found one of your power crystals,” Tolemek called from the other side of the ledge. “Do you want me to pry it out of its casing?”
“Yes, thank you.” Ridge waved, glad at least one of the crystals had been left but more intrigued by this new mystery. There was something familiar about the angular design stamped on the front. He couldn’t have said when or where, but he felt certain he had seen something like it before. The pin itself had a roughness to it, with uneven soldering on the back. It felt old. Today, something like this would be made in a factory. And he doubted iron would be the metal of choice. It was heavy for a pin, at least if it was usually worn on clothing and not tacked to seats.
Ridge remembered Sardelle once saying that she hadn’t been able to sense that giant owl familiar that they had fought, that she had seen and heard it but not felt it with her mind. Jaxi, when you say you don’t sense anything, do you mean that this pin is no different from any other inanimate object to you, or do you mean you can’t tell it’s there?
I can’t see it at all, except through your eyes.
Ridge decided not to find it odd that the soulblade was looking at the world through his eyes. How else, he supposed, would a sword “see” anything?
Exactly. The pattern seems familiar to me, too. Like it might be a letter or symbol from one of the old languages. Show it to Sardelle. She’s more likely to remember historical minutia than I am.
Is it significant that it’s made from iron? I remember Sardelle saying she couldn’t sense you through an iron box. Ridge thought of the box under the bed in Therrik’s house and the way that had been lined with metal. Had that been iron? It had been too dark to tell, and he hadn’t looked that closely. If so, it made him wonder even more what was usually stored in it.
Possibly, but that’s not why I don’t sense it. For as long as there have been sorcerers, there have been people with the knack of creating magical items that can be used even when the sorcerer is not around. An example is the communication crystals Sardelle made for you.
And the power supplies for the fliers.
Yes. And some sorcerers made items that could hunt other sorcerers or harm them in some way. Magic was never anything that united people, and there were dragon wars long ago, where humans got swept up in the action. Your texts tell you that people used dragons almost like pets or even tools, riding them into battle and ordering them to attack enemies, but there was some revisionist history there. In my time, it was understood that dragons were our equals and allies. Maybe if you go back farther, you will find that dragons were actually running the campaigns and using humans as pets. I don’t know for certain, but there were items that were made for hunting dragons—such as Cas’s ugly new sword—and for hunting sorcerers, as well. Naturally, it made sense to craft them so said dragons and sorcerers couldn’t sense them.
“Hunting,” Ridge mumbled. “Like tracking?”
He stared at the pin, then at the seat cushion.
That’s possible.
“Son of a hairy teat-kissing sloth,” Ridge growled, clenching his fist around the pin. He drew back his arm and almost hurled it into the canyon, but made himself stop before letting go.
Even if it was a tracking device and had allowed his people to be followed across an ocean, it was probably worth researching. He would take it back and show Sardelle. No, he amended hastily, realizing it might still be active. He would leave it here where he had found it and bring Sardelle back to look at it if his description wasn’t enough to go by.
“You over here throwing a tantrum while I do all the salvage work?” Tolemek asked, approaching with all three crystals in his arms.
Ridge held up the pin. “Jaxi thinks this is what’s been letting people track us.”
Tolemek’s eyebrows rose.
“I don’t suppose you recognize the symbols.”
“They’re nothing scientific.”
“I’ll take that as a no.”
Ridge dug around in his jacket and found a scrap of paper, actually the back of a card from Wings and Swords promising free beers to pilots on any nights when they returned from a mission. He sketched a copy of the pin, then returned the item to the bottom of the seat cushion. He was tempted to bury it next to some landmark to ensure no scavengers, human or otherwise, would make off with it, but he didn’t want his enemies to know that he had found it. He hoped he hadn’t already clued someone in by handling it.
“Any idea who planted it?” Tolemek asked.
Ridge stared at him. He hadn’t even been thinking about that, but of course someone would have had to stick it there. There had been several times the fliers had been left alone during their mission to Cofahre and those two islands, but if someone had been tracking them since they left home, this had to have been pinned under one of the seats before they left Iskandia. Which meant someone had sneaked onto base and up to the hangars to do it—possible but not that likely. Or someone on the flier maintenance crew had done it. Or—he swallowed. Or one of his own people had done it.
Chapter 7
Sardelle woke to a touch on her shoulder. She looked blearily up into Ridge’s face, then realized she was lying on the floor next to the couch. Between the events of the night and the effort it had taken to remove Duck’s bullets and mend the holes they had left, she had been exhausted when she had finished. Collapsing on the floor had seemed much easier than walking to the bedroom. Besides, she hadn’t wanted to presume to sleep in Fern’s bed.
Soft snores floated down to her from the couch, promising that her patient was still alive.
“Duck looks much better.” Ridge smiled down at her. Dark bags lurked under his eyes, and he was in need of a shave, but he still managed to look appealing. His smile warmed her heart—it felt as if a few eons had passed since someone had smiled at her.
“Good,” Sardelle murmured.
“I have something I need you to look at.” He rested her sword belt on the table beside the couch. “Then you can go back to sleep.”
“Sounds reasonable.” Sardelle yawned. “Did Cas make it back yet?” A part of her was worried about Cas, but a part of her dreaded seeing her after the harsh words she had spat out the night before.
“No, Tolemek just rode out to look for her. Apex isn’t back, either.” Concern tightened his eyes, but he did not voice his worries.
He did not need to. Sardelle felt them bubbling beneath the surface for him. Maybe she shouldn’t have let Cas stalk away from her. If something had happened after she left, Sardelle would have another reason to feel guilty.
She sat up, intending to push herself to her feet, but Ridge surprised her by sliding his arms under her legs and shoulders and picking her up.
“Are we going somewhere romantic?” she asked, looping an arm around his shoulders, though romance wasn’t what she had in mind, not unless she could bathe first. Perhaps continue her nap for a few more hours.
“My mom’s bedroom.”
“I suppose that could do…”
Ridge looked faintly appalled. “I wasn’t thinking of getting romantic in my mom’s room. You can rest there while pondering what I have to show you.”
After carrying her into the bedroom, Ridge laid her on a sturdy bed made from logs. Despite the rustic appearance, the mattress was comfortable and inviting. Sardelle closed her eyes and leaned her head back on a pillow. Ridge opened the curtains to let the noon daylight in, then sat on the edge of the bed and handed her a card.
“You’re taking me for free beers?”
“Look at the back side, at those cryptic scribbles. I tried to draw a picture of the metal device I found pinned under one of the flier seats—what w
as left of the flier and its seat.” He grimaced, the image of the wrecked machines scattered across a ledge still at the forefront of his thoughts.
Sardelle sighed, feeling like she should have done something to prevent the possibility of people finding the fliers. Perhaps she could have used her powers to craft a stronger camouflage than what the men had achieved with brush.
“Jaxi thinks it might have been used to track us,” Ridge said.
“Track us?” Sardelle examined the back of the card. “Everywhere we’ve been?”
“Everywhere since leaving Iskandia, I assume. Do you recognize the symbols? I’m afraid my mother is the artist in the family, but I did my best to draw the pin. I didn’t want to risk bringing the real one back here. Mom would be upset with me if someone blew up the cats.”
Sardelle snorted softly. No doubt. Two had already hopped onto the end of the bed and curled up. “They’re letters, not symbols. A and C. The maker’s initials perhaps?”
“Oh? Jaxi and I thought the designs were familiar, but she wasn’t sure what they were. I just had a feeling I’d seen them before, or something in a similar style.”
“You have. Some of the other letters in the alphabet are on the scabbard of Cas’s sword. There are two languages on her blade, Old Iskandian and Middle Dragon Script. This is Middle Dragon.”
Oops, I should have recognized that, Jaxi said. I’ve seen examples of Dragon Script before. Just not so embellished.
This is almost a calligraphy version.
Do you think Ridge will take me out again? I wasn’t very useful, and there was nobody to telepathically interrogate.
I don’t know. Did you do anything to irritate him this time?
Does threatening to pee down his leg count?
Yuck. And yes.
“Dragon Script? The dragons wrote things down?” Ridge groped at the air. “I’m imagining Phelistoth’s scaled arms and claws here. Or do they call them talons? Either way, I can’t see that giant creature holding a pen. Or a quill.”