“I’m going to need you to come up to the hangar with me,” Ridge said, glancing at Sardelle.
They had left Tolemek, Ahn, and Apex back at the house to get some sleep, and they were riding into town, avoiding the castle and coming in on the eastern road. Sardelle had changed into her travel leathers again and wore a cloak over them, the hood pulled low to hide her face. The gray clouds spat a depressing drizzle, so the head covering was logical, but she had to be worried she appeared suspicious or would be recognized. And shot. Ridge reminded himself that she had volunteered to join him, but he hoped that hadn’t simply been because she believed he wasn’t competent enough to handle Therrik on his own. Even if his and Tolemek’s bedroom exploits did suggest that.
Ridge wanted her at his side, though, for this mission and all missions. That plan of hers to pretend she was some controlling witch and suggest that he’d had to escape her hold... he hated it. He wanted to make the world—at least his home city—see her value and accept her. He didn’t want to do anything that might make it harder for her to gain that acceptance later.
“How will I get on base with you?” Sardelle was gazing up at the bluff overlooking the harbor, probably remembering that, to get to the hangar, one had to get through the guarded gates and then take a tram ride to the top.
Ridge wanted to say that he was a colonel and he would walk on base with whomever he liked, thank you very much, but he doubted that would work now that her face adorned wanted posters. His own AWOL status would cast aspersion on him, as well. He couldn’t count on the gate guards to have school-age children who wanted him to visit their classrooms.
“By being creative, I hope,” Ridge said. “As I recall, you once escaped a secured mining facility with a pack of gear and snowshoes, and nobody noticed.”
“Hm. Are you sure Therrik will be up there?”
“There’s an office in the main hangar that the squadron leaders share. I don’t think Therrik will be presumptuous enough to take General Ort’s office down below. But if I’m wrong and he’s not there, the master communication crystal is, as well as a telegraph machine for leaving messages in the hangars on the other bases around the country. I don’t know what the range is on the crystals—”
“Only about fifty miles.”
Ridge nodded. He had expected as much. “All right, that won’t work. I know I can get in touch with the other flier squadrons through the telegraph. And with my squadron, assuming they’ve reported in somewhere.”
“Is that allowed? Or is it just for sharing official orders?”
“It’s for sharing intel. I intend to share intel. Such as telling everybody to get their pimpled young asses home, or I’ll haunt them after I’m dead.”
“Important intel.”
“I think so.”
Sardelle looked worried for him. Well, that was normal these days. He wondered if a semblance of his regular life would ever return. All this skulking around with his career on the line was making him miss the simplicity of flying into battle against overwhelming odds.
They turned onto a busy street with the sides lined with vendor stalls, their merchants braving the rain in the hope of making some money from soldiers coming or going on errands. It was another hour until the workday ended, but there were enough riders, drivers, walkers, and bicyclers maneuvering about that the vendors did not converge on Ridge and Sardelle. Good.
“There’s the gate,” Ridge said, glancing to the side. “Do you want me to...”
He stared. Sardelle and her horse had disappeared, though the hoofbeats still rang out beside him. A second later, they too faded from his awareness, making him certain he was riding down the street alone.
Not really, but I did fall back. I’ll need to come in behind you. Jaxi and I will come up with a distraction for the guards.
Will it involve spooked horses? He had heard about the horse chase that had allowed him and Sardelle to finish their passionate moment and couldn’t decide whether he felt guilty or was amused. Both, maybe.
Possibly. Go along with whatever it is, please.
Of course.
Ridge continued down the street on his own. A man with a wagon full of wooden luck dragon carvings waved at him. Since the last luck dragon he had purchased from the vendor had not kept his house from being blown up, Ridge ignored him. He would stick to the charm in his pocket, the well-worn one his father had carved him decades ago.
The front gate was open, but two sturdy guards with rifles stood on either side of it. Unlike Sardelle, Ridge had not bothered to bring a cloak to hide his face. He wore his typical olive flight suit, brown leather jacket and cap, and he had bathed and shaved, so he looked the same as he usually did when he strolled through the gate. The guards’ eyes widened when they saw him coming. He hoped that wasn’t because there was a warrant out for his arrest and they couldn’t believe he was ambling right up to them.
“Colonel Zirkander,” one blurted with a salute.
“Corporal Miller, Private Brax,” Ridge said, reading their names off their jackets and nodding to them. He had seen them at the gate before and might have guessed the names without looking, but he did not know them well. Alas, neither appeared old enough to have school-age children.
“Sir, aren’t you AWOL?” Miller also saluted, but it turned into a head scratch.
“And cavorting with a witch,” Brax said, his eyes still round.
Ridge was tempted to ride through without explaining himself, but he wanted to give Sardelle time to do whatever it was she intended to do.
“That’s an interesting interpretation of events,” he said, “but I’ve actually been on a mission for the king. I would report in to him, but he seems to be missing. I guess General Ort will have to receive my report instead. He’ll appreciate that. He enjoys the challenge of deciphering my handwriting.”
The guards exchanged looks with each other. He couldn’t tell if the looks meant they didn’t believe his story, or if they were uncomfortable because they figured they would have to tell him that Ort was missing.
“Sir, nobody knows where General Ort is,” the corporal said.
Somebody knew where he was... “Oh? A lot of people have gone missing in my absence.”
“Yes, sir,” the corporal said glumly. “And all of our flier squadrons have been sent off on secret missions. There’s some concern about... well, they’re—you’re—our main defense against aerial attacks.”
“Yes, I hope to do something about that. Leaving the city—”
“Help!” someone called from one of the vendor stalls. “My dragons are on fire!”
“There’s something you don’t hear every day.” Ridge turned his mount to face the wagon showcasing the wooden carvings. “Sounds painful.”
The soldiers snickered. They took a few steps forward, so they could see the smoke rising from the wagon. Technically, what happened to the civilian vendors was not any concern of anyone on base, but a big fire would be a problem for everyone. Ridge trusted that neither Sardelle nor Jaxi would let things get out of hand.
None of his wares are truly burning, Sardelle said into his mind.
Too bad. There should be a punishment for selling me a luck dragon that wasn’t lucky.
The frame of his wagon might be charring lightly. I’ll put it out as soon as we’re through.
Perhaps you should lightly char his pocketbook.
I had no idea you felt so bitterly about that statue.
It’s more for the house that the dragon was supposed to be protecting. Admittedly, Ridge had let himself fall for the vendor’s spiel. Oh, he hadn’t truly believed that the wooden carvings could change a man’s fate, not much anyway, but he had hoped for a little luck when needed.
“Brax,” the corporal said. “Go see if we need to contact the fire department or if a wet towel would work.”
Though Ridge continued to gaze toward the smoldering wagon, he thought he glimpsed a hint of movement behind him, someone slipping through the gate perhaps.
“I’m on my way to headquarters,” Ridge said. “Do you want me to report the fire?”
“No, sir. It doesn’t look that bad. And it’s raining. How much could it possibly spread?”
Ridge shrugged, not wanting to say anything that would cause the corporal to realize that a fire starting on a soggy, rainy day wasn’t terribly likely. Without asking for permission, he nudged the horse forward, as if he had every right to stroll through the gate without being questioned. He usually did. But this time, he waited tensely, expecting one of the men to shout after him.
Nobody did. He trotted the horse toward the stables in the back corner of the fort. He wished he could head straight to the tram and hand the reins off to some private along the way, but this wasn’t an emergency, as far as the rest of the base was concerned, so he could not justify that. Besides, the path that led from the stables to the tram was rarely used by anyone except pilots and the maintenance crew. Once he reached it, he hoped to avoid anyone who would question him more thoroughly than a corporal.
He had no sooner than had the thought when he turned onto the street that led to the stables and almost ran over a rangy gray-haired man with the elaborate golden sword-and-musket pin of a general on his cap and a chest full of marksmanship and valor medals dangling from his jacket. General Arstonhamer. The sight of him turned Ridge’s conscience guilty, thanks to his previous night’s spying, but he whipped up a hasty salute, hoping to ride by without being questioned.
“Colonel Zirkander,” the general snapped, stepping into the horse’s path and raising a hand.
“Yes, sir?” Ridge said politely.
“Where in all the levels of all the hells have you been?”
“A mission for the king, sir. In Cofahre. So your hells guess is quite accurate.” He smiled easily.
Arstonhamer glowered. “If you were on a mission, why do the official personnel reports have you down as AWOL?”
“I don’t know, sir. I just got back. I aim to straighten things out.”
“The newspapers said you disappeared with a flier squadron to do some witch’s bidding.”
Ridge knew he should keep his answers polite and respectful, but these people calling Sardelle a witch made his hackles rise every time. “Are we getting our intel from journalists now?”
Arstonhamer’s glower turned into a scowl. “You better watch your delinquent mouth or I’ll knock you off that horse.”
Ridge clenched his jaw to keep from saying something incendiary. More incendiary.
“I assume you’re going to report in to HQ.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll stop by there when the workday ends,” Arstonhamer said, “to make sure you didn’t stray.”
“Why would I stray, sir?” Ridge asked, though he probably shouldn’t have, since that was exactly what he intended to do. “I need to figure out what’s going on. I’ve been risking myself and my people on a mission, and I come back to find out I haven’t been paid all month. I’m going to report in right away.”
“See to it that you do.” Arstonhamer stepped away from the horse and continued down the street.
Ridge hurried toward the stables, almost laughing at the idea of any pay accumulating for him. When Accounting figured out how many fliers he had lost, he would be lucky if the army’s money ever visited his bank account again. More likely, he would receive a big bill. He hoped Sardelle wasn’t staying with him for the money.
No, but the cabin by the lake is quite lovely. I look forward to seeing it in the spring.
I didn’t realize you were that fond of it. Ridge resisted the urge to look for Sardelle. He definitely didn’t want Arstonhamer to spot her. Most women are unimpressed by the outhouse.
Indoor plumbing was more of a rarity in my time. Sardelle did the equivalent of clearing her throat in his mind. Most women, you say? Have you taken many out there?
Erg, he knew better than to allude to past women to the current woman, especially when he wanted to keep the current woman. Many? Not many. Ridge bit his lip, realizing he couldn’t lie to someone who was inside his head. Can you define many? He only remembered three that he had taken all the way out there, but would Sardelle consider that many?
Relax, Ridge, she teased him. I didn’t imagine you were a chaste forty-year-old national hero, pining away and waiting for Fate to deliver me into your life.
Deciding not to comment further—and risk sticking his foot in his mouth—Ridge dismounted in front of the stable. A private came out to take his horse.
I do hope I’m the only one you’ve done unspeakable things with against your mother’s door.
The image of said things popped into Ridge’s mind along with Sardelle’s words, and he stumbled and sputtered a little. The private looked at him curiously.
Ridge thumped himself on the chest and coughed. “Still recovering from my last meal at the mess hall.”
“Understandable, sir.”
Ridge circled the stable and headed for the path leading to the tram. Yes, Sardelle, I can promise you that I’ve never whisked another woman into my mother’s bedroom.
Good. A lady likes to think she’s special.
You know, you pretend to be more wholesome than Jaxi, but I think you’re actually quite well suited to each other.
Sardelle did not answer promptly. Ridge hoped he hadn’t offended her.
No, I couldn’t formulate a response over the loud snickering that Jaxi was inserting into my thoughts.
Ah. Ridge paused on the tree-lined path. Are you with me?
She’d had a horse, too, and he didn’t know if she had intended to sneak it into the stable or had already left the creature tied up in front of a building somewhere.
She’s behind the stable, munching on an apple and waiting for the attendant to notice her. I’ll meet you at the tram.
There would be a soldier operating it from within the hut at the bottom. Ridge would have to chat with him to distract him so Sardelle could sneak on. He longed for the day when they could walk openly together again.
Me too.
“Colonel Zirkander,” the tram operator blurted before Ridge could knock on his door.
Given that everyone was greeting him with shocked expressions, Ridge wondered anew about the possibility of an arrest warrant. He hoped they were simply surprised to see him because of the AWOL charge. He also hoped Arstonhamer found some errands to run and didn’t think to report seeing Ridge any time soon.
“Afternoon, Sammon,” Ridge said casually, pretending there was nothing unusual about his appearance. “Do you know if Colonel Therrik is up there? Apparently, I’m supposed to report to him for duty.” His mouth twisted—he had no problem showing anyone who would listen how distasteful he found that.
“He is, sir.” Private Sammon gave him a sympathetic grimace. Clearly Therrik had impressed him with his charisma on one of his trips up. “Good luck.”
You on? Ridge thought.
Yes. Crouching below the level of the window. The metal floor is impressively dust-free.
We aim to run a tidy base. Ridge headed for the tram door, his nerves dogfighting in his belly. Even though he had argued that it was likely for Therrik to be up top, and he needed to question the man, he wouldn’t have minded delaying their meeting. Considering where Ridge had left him when last they had met, Therrik would probably try to throttle him as soon as he walked through the door. He assumed it was hard to interrogate a man while being choked. He would also have a hard time sending telegraph messages with Therrik in the office.
Sardelle was indeed crouching on the floor in the tram. She smiled up at him when he entered. We’ll figure it out. If he tries to choke you, I’ll give him a debilitating rash.
A rash? Where?
In his office.
That’s not what I meant.
Speaking of snickering into one’s mind... Sardelle did it as effectively as Jaxi.
The tram clanked into motion, slowly rising on its cable toward the top of the cliff. When the roof of the hut disappeared from sight, Sardelle stood up. It would only take a couple of minutes to reach the top, but Ridge extended his arm, offering a hug. Even though Tolemek had his uses, he was glad to have Sardelle along this time. He would much rather hide under a bed with her.
“I’m glad to hear it. We wouldn’t want Cas to get jealous and believe you’re trying to steal her pirate.” She leaned against him, slid her arms around his waist, and rested her head against his shoulder. “You smell good.”
“Thanks. I bathed. It’s been a rare experience lately.”
“Is that lavender?”
“Uh. Maybe. My mom makes all of her own soaps, and they tend to be floral rather than manly. Maybe I’ll request she make a nice pine resin one for me.”
“Scented soaps? I didn’t see those when I bathed.”
She sounded disappointed. Ridge supposed women liked smelling of flowers.
“They’re easy to mistake for something else, since she shapes them into things.”
“Ohhh. I wondered why there was an army of cats watching me bathe from the ledge. Soap, hm.”
Ridge wouldn’t have minded standing there with Sardelle longer, but the tram was approaching the top. He hoped Therrik didn’t notice that Ridge smelled like a flower. He hadn’t realized how strong those cat soaps were.
“You’re probably safe unless he gets close.”
“Such as the closeness required for throttling?”
“Yes, you should avoid that.” Sardelle’s eyes grew distant briefly. “There’s not an operator in the hut up here. In fact, there’s hardly anyone in the hangar. Therrik’s in the office and a few maintenance people are in the shop in the back.”
Ridge sighed and released Sardelle. “Yes, I’ve heard about the emptiness.”
“I’ll wait outside of the office, close enough to get the gist of his thoughts—actually, that will probably be Jaxi. She’s the stronger telepath. In order to keep him from noticing her intrusion, it would help if you got him thinking of the questions we want answers to.”
“I’ll do my best.” He did not point out that it would be hard to ask questions if Therrik’s hands were around Ridge’s throat. He had probably whined about that possibility too many times already. People who faced down Cofah cannons shouldn’t complain about meetings with officers in their own unit.
“Perhaps if you met with him while behind the guns in your flier,” Sardelle suggested, stopping at the hangar door and waving for him to enter first.
“I would be most amenable to that.” As he walked inside, Ridge grinned at the memory of swooping through Crazy Canyon while Therrik threw up behind him.
It’s possible there’s a reason he wants to throttle you, Sardelle sent in parting.
Ridge was aware of her disappearing into the shadows behind him, but once again, did not look in her direction. It wasn’t that hard, since the sight of the bleak cavernous hangar captivated his attention. One two-man flier and two one-man fliers, including his usual craft, hunkered in the repair area. He had never seen the place so empty, so abandoned. Even when Tiger and Wolf Squadrons were both in the skies, the hangar crew would be back here, preparing for their return. But now, the sound of his boots rang hollowly as he walked across the cement floor.
Only a few lamps burned, leaving the shadows thick about the place. Sardelle wouldn’t need her magic to hide. Who was here to notice her?
A throat cleared in the office. All right, there was one person who might notice, the person who had approved of this evacuation.
As Ridge strode toward the office, his earlier apprehension faded, replaced by irritation. He was irritated at Therrik, and he was irritated at the queen, too, even if he hadn’t figured out what her role was in all of this. It was hard to believe that the king’s wife of over twenty years would be spearheading some plan to make her husband disappear and empty the city of its defenses. Why would she? To hand the capital over to the Cofah? How could anyone who had grown up here and endured the frequent and inexorable attacks from the empire think of working with them?
Ridge knocked on the door. The only thing that kept him from barging in and making demands was the reminder of Therrik’s training as an infantry soldier who had spent time with the elite forces units. As twitchy as those boys were, he would probably spring for Ridge’s neck before bothering to identify him.
“What?” came the familiar growl. Apparently, Therrik wasn’t worried that some general had come up to visit him.
“You’re in my chair,” Ridge said as he opened the door.
The big desk faced the door, so Ridge looked his nemesis in the face as he walked in. Therrik’s eyes narrowed to slits. He planted his hands on the paper-filled surface and rose slowly, his massive shoulders flexing. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing corded muscle and tattoos of daggers dripping blood. He could probably spring over the desk from that position. Ridge propped a fist on his hip, hoping to show that he wasn’t intimidated. He actually wasn’t since Sardelle was out there, though the idea of relying on his lady for protection did make him feel a tad unmanly.
“It’s my desk now.” Therrik smiled, an alarming gesture, even if it was every bit as cold and unfriendly as the rest of him.
“I wouldn’t have taken you for a desk man. Pilots like to sit down, but I would have thought all your big muscles would cramp up being forced into inactivity.” Ridge glanced at Therrik’s forehead, hoping to imply his brain muscle had cramped up, too, but he doubted the man was perceptive enough to see through such a subtle hint.
At what point will you start directing the interrogation toward the questions we wish to know? Sardelle asked politely.
I figured we needed to exchange pleasantries first.
If you goad him into attacking you and I have to reveal myself, I expect he’ll be less amenable to answering anything. If he’s affiliated with that organization, he’ll hate me on sight.
Yes, Ridge remembered the unflattering things Therrik had said regarding Sardelle and Tolemek in that first meeting with the king. He’d never met either of them then. He might have based his hatred of Tolemek on his reputation, but he couldn’t have known a thing about Sardelle, unless he had been chatting with the queen back then and she had told him something.
For most, it’s enough that I have dragon blood. It seems that people in this century don’t need any greater reason to hate me.
Ridge would have liked to say something comforting back to her, even if she had stated it without much emotion, but Therrik was opening his bear trap again.
“Where have you been, Zirkander?”
“Cofahre.” Ridge almost made a comment about how he had been risking his life while Therrik had been polishing that chair with his butt, but that would remind Therrik about how he had been abandoned. No need to bring that up.
“After that,” Therrik said. “Kaika and your scrawny lieutenant came back more than two weeks ago.”
Ridge tried to sense if he knew anything about Kaika’s capture at the castle, but Therrik did not give any special emphasis to her name.
“We had to deprive the Cofah of the source of their dragon blood, which we were successful at.” I’m going to try and direct him onto more relevant topics now, he added silently, assuming Sardelle was monitoring his thoughts. “But as Apex would have reported, I’m sure they still have supplies stashed away. Therrik, how could you approve sending both squadrons out of the city? Those weapons are mission-ready. The unmanned fliers and self-directing rockets could show up in our airspace any day.”
Therrik had opened his mouth, a protest on his lips, but he frowned at Ridge’s last couple of sentences. “Rockets? What are you talking about?”
Ridge stared at him. “How can you not know? Didn’t you get Apex’s report? The dragon blood samples?”
Since Therrik continued to look puzzled, Ridge started to doubt himself—to doubt his officer. Apex had placed that tracking device. What if he hadn’t reported in and hadn’t brought the vials of blood? But even if he hadn’t, surely Kaika would have shared all that information with her superiors. Or...
“Wait, was General Ort still in charge then?” Ridge tried to remember exactly what Kaika and Apex had said when they had found him on Owanu Owanus. They’d said Ort had been missing, but maybe he hadn’t been when they first reported in. Maybe Ort had received the information and then been kidnapped before being able to brief anyone.
“No, he disappeared shortly after the king did,” Therrik said. “Several people have disappeared. Maybe you’ll be next, now that you’re back. I’ve noticed it’s the mouthy ones that go.”
“Have you?” Ridge muttered. Ort wasn’t mouthy, not generally, but Ridge could see him protesting something like these foolish orders to send both squadrons away. “So, why are you still here? Is it true you’re sleeping with the queen?”
Therrik made a choking noise, and his hands, which had been pressed flat against the desk’s surface, now curled around the edges.
He’s thinking of strangling you, Sardelle informed him. You predicted that well.
I’m surprised he’s restrained himself for so long. You getting anything from him?
“Listen, Therrik. I don’t care if you are.” Not entirely true. Ridge liked the king well enough and would prefer to believe his wife was loyal to him. “But tell me someone knows about the dragon blood and the new Cofah weapons. What did Apex report to you?”
“Yes, we know about the dragon blood. Vile stuff.” Therrik jerked a thumb toward the back of the office.
Ridge had to rise to his tiptoes and lean to the side to see around him. What he spotted tucked behind the stand for the telegraph machine made him gape. Even without seeing the contents, he recognized the bags that he and the others had used to tote the vials of dragon blood out of the volcano laboratory. They slumped dejectedly in the corner, not looking like anyone had even investigated them.
“What’s been going on around here?” Ridge thrust his arm toward the bags. “Our scientists should be studying that, trying to make weapons or defenses to counteract what the Cofah are going to launch at us, what they could be flying over here to launch at us even as we speak. Didn’t Apex tell you how viable their weapons are? One of those smart rockets, or whatever you want to call them, followed me all through a canyon and nearly killed me.” It would have killed him if not for Jaxi’s intervention.
“I’ve seen you in canyons. You could crash yourself without the help of a rocket.” Therrik waved a dismissive hand. “Even if they’re making weapons, they’ll be testing them for a while first, I’m sure. They haven’t had the dragon blood for long—we would have known about it. It’ll wait until after the fliers get back from their mission, a mission you really should join in with. In fact, I insist you join it.”
“Does the queen insist I join it? Is she the one trying to get all of the fliers out of the city? To make us vulnerable to our enemies?”
Getting anything from him?
Yes, some. Bring up the sword, if you can.
“What makes you so sure an attack is coming, Zirkander?” Therrik glowered suspiciously.
He’s truly wondering if you know something he doesn’t, Sardelle thought.
I know all kinds of things he doesn’t. “I’m not sure, but if we have spies over there, we have to assume they have spies here, spies who are reporting back that we’re having a few problems right now.” Ridge strode forward until only the desk separated them. “You don’t know where the king was taken do you?”
“No.”
“Does the queen know?”
“How should I know?”
He’s lying. An image of a lighthouse flashed through his mind when you asked.
“You didn’t maybe get hired or coerced to kidnap him, did you?” An expression of pure rage contorted the man’s face, but Ridge pressed on, hoping to give Sardelle the opening into his mind that she needed. “Maybe you and your big ugly dragon-slaying sword?”
Therrik’s muscles had been bunching, as if he meant to leap over the desk and attack, but he froze when he heard those last words.
“That’s right. We found it. Funny thing, though. This assassin was wielding it, trying to use it to kill a dragon. Ahnsung. I assume you’ve heard of him. I shot him. Guess I’ve got another reason to watch my back. How did an assassin get ahold of your sword, anyway? Or is it yours? I know you’ve got the box under your bed, but I suppose you could have stolen it. I—”
Duck! Sardelle urged at the same time as Therrik exploded into motion.
Ridge ducked—he almost tumbled all the way to the floor in his effort to do so. Therrik sailed over his head, a powerful gust of wind coming from nowhere to add to his momentum and keep him from grabbing Ridge. He flew all the way to the door and bashed against it with his shoulder so hard that the wall rattled. That did not keep Therrik from whirling back toward Ridge.
“I didn’t steal anything,” he snarled, his hands outstretched. He took a step toward Ridge but seemed to be fighting something. The wind had stopped, but some other barrier restrained him. “That sword has been in my family for a thousand years.”
Ridge darted behind the desk so there would be one more barrier between them.
“And I wouldn’t kidnap the king. I’m loyal, more loyal than you, you smug bastard.” Therrik looked down at his hands, confusion replacing some of the rage on his face. Was he just now realizing that something was holding him back?
“Did she ask you to?” Ridge asked, trying to decide if the way Therrik had phrased that denial hinted of that.
“I’m loyal to the king,” Therrik repeated, then his lips reared back in a snarl. “Your witch. She’s here!”
“You think I’d come visit your tiny, unstable brain on my own?” Ridge asked. “Who gave the sword to Ahnsung? He didn’t kidnap the king, did he?” No, Ahnsung couldn’t have been in two places at once. He had been hunting the dragon.
Yes, but he got there after us, remember? Therrik believes Ahnsung was the one who kidnapped the king. After he refused to do it for the queen.
For the queen. She’s really the one behind everything?
Therrik believes she is.
Therrik seethed, his muscles straining against the fabric of his shirt and his face flushed red as he tried to physically fight the invisible barrier that held him.
Why? Ridge asked. Is she working for the Cofah?
He doesn’t think so. She wanted to get rid of me and of Tolemek, of any magic users on the continent, actually, but apparently, it was our appearance in the city that spurred her to action. The king gave Tolemek a position here and stocked that lab. And he didn’t particularly care that I was walking around with you. It enraged her. The king wouldn’t listen, saying he wasn’t going to prosecute people for their blood. She decided to deal with us—with all sorcerers—her own way. This is the story as it was relayed to Therrik, by the way. I have no way to know if it’s the truth. But Therrik’s prejudices are clear. He was happy to go along with her insofar as getting rid of us, and even volunteered to get his family’s sword out of the crypt, because it could slay sorcerers as well as dragons. He’s quite proud that he’s descended from dragon slayers.
“I’ll bet.” Ridge eyed Therrik, wondering if he was about to have a stroke. His face had gone from red to almost purple. So all of this is about getting rid of people with dragon blood? It has nothing to do with the Cofah?
With the king gone, she saw this as her chance to ensure all of the Referatu and their descendants were utterly wiped out. As if Iskandia didn’t nearly accomplish that three hundred years ago. Sardelle’s bitterness seeped through the link, and he could not blame her for it. The next time she was clinging to a wall while the queen walked past underneath, he wagered she would do more than watch in silence.
She didn’t kill her husband, did she? Ridge asked. Was he truly kidnapped or... something else? If Ahnsung had been involved, it could definitely have been a more final treatment.
Therrik believes he’s being stored somewhere out of the way. He doesn’t know, but thinks it has to do with a lighthouse. I don’t recognize the one he’s thinking of. He may not even recognize it. I get the sense that he’s never been there, since he did draw the line at being a part of the kidnapping. The queen asked him to do it first, but he wouldn’t betray the king, not even to get rid of witches.
He’s so noble.
I hate to interrupt, my interrogation specialists, came Jaxi’s voice, but company is coming.
What kind of company? Ridge would have looked out the window if the office had one, but there wasn’t much access to natural light in the hangar when the big rolling doors were not open.
Several soldiers coming up on the tram. I think they’re here for you.
Wonderful. General Arstonhamer must have checked up on Ridge. Sardelle? Can you convince Therrik to step outside for a few minutes? Uhm, Jaxi? Is there any chance you could delay that tram for a few minutes?
You and Sardelle aren’t planning a rutting session before you’re parted, are you?
I’m not planning anything that enjoyable, I assure you.
Ridge turned toward the telegraph machine. As he composed a hasty message to tap out, he ignored the puppet-like way Therrik was jerked and ambulated out the door. Ridge had to send his message to every hangar, in the hope that at least some people would come because he asked. Some of them would doubtlessly question why he was trying to send orders, when everybody knew he wasn’t high enough to order anyone except his own squadron around. He hoped that his reputation might convince some people to at least pass along his message. This was the only way he had to get in touch with Wolf and Tiger Squadrons and request that they come home.
Would you like the tram to be delayed indefinitely? Jaxi asked. They’re starting to get irritated, and the fellow down below is banging against his machine with a wrench.
Sardelle walked through the door as Ridge sent the last message. As much as he would have liked to keep the soldiers from coming up—especially if they were, as he suspected, military police—they would not be able to hide up here indefinitely. He could have taken the two-person flier and flown off to parts unknown, but he needed to be here in case any of his people did return. And he needed to find a way to get Kaika out of the dungeon. In short, he needed all of the doubt to be erased from his name. He just wasn’t sure how to make that happen.
Ridge picked up one of the bags of dragon blood, the vials inside clinking. He handed it to Sardelle. “Will you see to it that Tolemek gets this? Maybe he can create some weapons or defenses that we can use to protect the city. Whatever his morals will allow him to make. Since Iskandia is his home now, too, I’m hoping he’ll want to defend it.”
“I’ll give it to him.” Sardelle accepted the bag, then squeezed his arm. “As far as clearing your name, if you go through with my plan, that should be easier. I’ll disappear, so I’m not seen here with you. Jaxi is trying to adjust Therrik’s thoughts so that he doesn’t remember my role in subduing him.” She winced. “It’s not... morally acceptable, but I hope the gods will understand in this case.”
“I don’t intend to tell them you’re some megalomaniacal crazy woman who had control over me,” Ridge said.
The soldiers have reached the top and are getting out of the tram, Jaxi informed them.
“Save your career, Ridge. You’ll only have the power to do what needs to be done if you’re trusted by your superiors. What these people think of me doesn’t matter. We can see each other in secret in the future if necessary.” She kissed him, then let go of his arm and backed away.
Secret? Ridge didn’t want her to have to spend her life in hiding, nor did he only want to see her in secret, damn it. “My mother would be devastated if she never saw you again,” he said, because it was the only thing that came to his mind.
As she smiled sadly back at him and disappeared through the door, he wished he had said something far more important. Like that he loved her.
I know you do. I love you too.
Boot steps rang against the cement floor in the hangar. With his shoulders slumped, Ridge walked toward the doorway. He didn’t want anyone to notice the telegraph machine or be there to read any return messages that would hint at what he had sent.
General Arstonhamer strode toward the office with six MPs marching at his side.
“A little more force than is necessary for just me, sir.” Ridge spread his arms.
“Is it?”
All of the men were stealing covert glances toward the unconscious figure slumped against the wall beside the office door. Even if Therrik did not bear any bruises, his shirt was untucked and his jacket rumpled. Ropes bound his hands behind his back, and a line of drool trickled from the corner of his mouth.
Ridge thought the men would assume that “his witch” had been responsible, but they kept glancing back and forth from Ridge to Therrik. Did they think he had knocked the brawny officer out? That would either be good for his reputation... or the final nail in his coffin.
“Cuff him,” Arstonhamer said.
Yup, the nail was looking more likely.
Ridge did not resist. He let them lead him toward the door, though he couldn’t help but cast his longing gaze back toward his flier as he went. He wasn’t sure if it was because he worried he would never be allowed to fly again or because he could have taken Sardelle and flown away, leaving this mess for someone else to handle. Wishful thinking there.
Say what you need to say, Ridge, came Sardelle’s voice, seemingly softer and farther away than it had been before. I’m going to find a way to get Kaika before it’s too late for her.
Ridge wished he could find those parting words encouraging, but all he could think was that Sardelle was going to go risk her life, and he had absolutely no way to help her.