almost laughed, since that wasn't an expression he ever received from the younger man in the workplace. "You just want to be sure the proposal is welcomed by the other party," he added. "I've heard it's rather painful if you're rejected. Especially if you choose a public place for the necklace offering."
The position of Ridge's eyebrows shifted from one of curiosity to one of alarm.
"I'm certain Sardelle would welcome it," Vilhem hurried to say. "This porter is excellent."
Ridge blinked and looked at the beer. "And that's indicative of a marriage proposal acceptance?"
"I'm sure she would buy you something cheaper and less palatable if she was less enthused with you."
"She doesn't drink beer, so I'm not sure she knows anything about it. She may have just liked the look of the bottle."
"Nonetheless, I believe your odds are good for a yes."
"I hope so. She brought up the subject of children before my little bout with amnesia--" Ridge grimaced, "--so I assume she wants to stick around, but... I really don't know anything about Referatu customs. What if marriage wasn't common? What if they just lived together and made magical babies in a commune? Or what if they did get married, but they didn't use promise necklaces? What if she's expecting some glowing blue bauble?"
Vilhem hadn't seen a daunted expression on Ridge's face often. This was the man who flew upside, shooting down enemy fliers with one hand tied behind his back--or in his pocket, rubbing his lucky dragon charm. He was always confident, whether it was warranted or not.
"There aren't any books around on the Referatu," Ridge went on, "since burning them was trendy for a couple hundred years. My only source would be Jaxi, but if I started asking her about these things, then she'd tell Sardelle, if she hasn't already. Maybe I'm a fool to think I can surprise either of them."
I wish I could be of some assistance, the sword--Wreltad--said, but I am only familiar with Cofah marriage customs from two thousand years ago.
"I know." Ridge patted the air toward the sword, then pushed his hand through his hair.
"Ridge," Vilhem said, "have a custom necklace made, with some sapphires to match her eyes, and then take her out to dinner someplace nice, and ask her. I'm positive you won't disappoint her."
"That sounds so bland and trite. Doesn't everybody do that?" Ridge dropped his hand. "Er, is that what you did, sir?" He had the grace to look sheepish.
"Yes, only with an agate I found on a beach and had hung from a leather thong. I was a second year cadet at the time and didn't have any money. Our nice dinner was at the fish-on-a-stick hut in the harbor."
"Fish-on-a-stick? And she said yes? She must have really loved you."
"It wasn't that bad. They have outdoor dining and a nice view of the water."
"They have picnic tables."
"That are outdoors with a view of the water," Vilhem said sturdily.
"I got a splinter in my butt the last time I ate there."
"The picnic tables were in better shape thirty years ago. I'm trying to help you, Zirkander. Is this how you treat all of your confidants?"
"No, you're right, sir. Vilhem. Thank you. I appreciate the help." Ridge offered a sad smile. "You must still miss your wife. You were married nearly thirty years, weren't you?"
"Yes. You could have that with Sardelle if it doesn't take you a decade to work up the courage to ask her. You're not that young, you know."
Ridge made a face. "It concerns me when people with gray hair say that."
"She might be less likely to say yes if you wait until your hair turns gray."
Ridge touched his temples, as if worried that a proliferation of grays might already be sprouting. "You don't think she likes a distinguished gentleman?"
"I heard that dragon of hers is quite sexy and young when he wanders around in human form."
Ridge scowled. "You're right. I should ask her soon."
"That's what I've been saying," Vilhem said mildly, taking another sip from his bottle. "Here. Before you start planning your engagement, take a look at these new flier specs."
He laid the envelope on the table.
"Oh, excellent." Ridge stopped prodding his hair and slid the blueprints out.
Quacks came from outside of the window, and Vilhem nearly cracked his head when he saw no less than twenty ducks floating in the water. Not only was it clear that they knew the quasi camouflaged duck blind was here, but they appeared quite expectant. Vilhem couldn't believe how close they were. Maybe they had come for the beer.
While perusing the blueprints, Ridge absently grabbed the tin of crackers off the shelf, crumbled some, and tossed them out the window to the ducks. Much squawking and bandying for position resulted.
"There are hunters all across Iskandia who would be chagrined to find out that you've turned your duck blind into a buffet service," Vilhem said, eyeing a duck with beady eyes that was waddling up a branch that leaned against the structure. He ended up hopping onto the window ledge and looking in upon them.
"Tylie started it. She feeds everything." Ridge tossed the fearless one a full cracker, which it caught with its beak before flapping back down into the water. "But I'm the one who comes out here, so they expect me to provide too."
"You're a softie, Ridge."
"Yeah. Don't tell the Cofah."
You may wish to leave and retrieve your mare soon, General, Wreltad said.
What? Why?
One of the people who wishes to prove to Sardelle that he does indeed have dragon blood is trying to turn it into a frog.
Uh, that can't happen, right?
No, nobody in line has dragon blood. They're delusional. Sardelle is trying to find polite ways to shoo them away. Your horse seems concerned by the man waving his hands.
Thanks for the warning.
"I need to go, Ridge. Bring those prints with you to work in the morning. Let me know what you think. And don't forget what I said."
"That a woman who truly loves you will accept your marriage proposal even if you do it at a splinter-filled picnic table in front of a smelly fish hut?"
"You know, there's a reason so many people want to be on the team opposite of you when you play brisk-ball. Throwing things at you is quite satisfying."
"Good to know, sir. Thanks for the advice."
Vilhem snorted and walked out to save his horse. The ducks quacked at him. Ridge threw them more crackers.
Scene #2: Fowl Friends
Cas clasped Tolemek's hand as they turned off the main street and onto the dead-end road where Ridge and Sardelle lived with a passel of houseguests who ranged from occasional to constant. Tylie, whose birthday it was today, should be excited to see her brother. Even though Cas and Tolemek had leased a cozy house between his lab and the army fort, Tylie still spent most of her time here, wandering around the woods and the pond to collect animal friends when she wasn't busy studying magic. Tolemek kept hinting to her that she could move in with him now that he had a suitable house, but she seemed to prefer this quasi-rural living to the city life. Cas could understand that. She had grown up with room to roam and explore, at least when her father hadn't been stifling her with mandatory athletic endeavors and shooting practices.
"I hope Zirkander doesn't ask me to make him anything," Tolemek grumbled. "The pharmacy isn't open today."
"I'm sure he won't," Cas said.
"I don't know how he ever accomplished missions before he had me to rely on."
"It is a mystery."
Tolemek gave her the squinty eye.
Cas squeezed his hand and grinned back. She had no trouble seeing through the grumpy grumble. Whether he admitted it or not, Tolemek had been excited at the chance to escape his lab and visit everyone. Even Zirkander. They hadn't had a mission since their kidnapping adventure in Cofahre, so Tolemek hadn't chatted with many of Cas's pilot acquaintances in several weeks. Even though he pretended to be engrossed in his work, she could tell from how chatty he was when she came home at night that he found the life isolatin
g and a little lonely. Today, he had been the first one out the door, eager to see his sister and Sardelle.
Tolemek's squint relented, and he returned her smile and hand squeeze. "I hope Tylie likes the charcoal set we got her."
"I'm sure she will. Didn't you say that she has paints and pencils, but not charcoal?"
"Yes, Zirkander got her all the paints she could need." His mouth twisted in something between wryness and displeasure.
"Are you irked because she prefers to stay here?"
"No. Yes." He stopped when they reached the house, pausing before turning down the walkway. "When I'm honest with myself, I admit that this is a better place for her, that she needs a mother and a teacher more than a big brother, and Sardelle's a good influence. But that doesn't mean I don't feel some..."
"Petty jealousy?"
"Brotherly interest in her well-being."
"You know she's fine."
Tolemek sighed and led her down the path. "I'm not sure it's right that you're the more mature person in this relationship."
"I agree. You should work on that."
"By gaining in maturity myself or by bringing you down to my level?"
Cas swatted him. "I hope you don't have a potion for that."
"Not yet, but if I can fix Pimples's love life, I can do anything with my powers."
"Megalomania isn't as attractive a quality in a man as you might think."
"No? It gets Bhrava Saruth a lot of belly rubs."
"It helps that he can turn into a cute furry ferret. Maybe you should work on a potion for that."
The door opened before Cas could knock on it. There was nobody there, though clanks and voices came from the kitchen in the back.
"Uhm," Cas said. "Do we go in or..."
"It worked." Tylie leaped through the kitchen doorway, barefoot as usual. She skirted the huge couch, its frame made from bullet-ridden crashed flier parts, and flung herself into Tolemek's arms. "Tolie!"
"Someone's working on telekinetics again, I believe," Tolemek said, enfolding Tylie. She was a couple of inches taller than Cas, but still short enough that he could look over her head and smile a greeting to Cas.
"I didn't even bang the door against the wall this time," Tylie told them.
She stepped back, spun a pirouette, then raced back into the kitchen. She linked arms with another girl on the way, someone who appeared to be around fourteen, and who was covered in flour. Some neighbor friend?
"Cas and Tolie are here," Tylie announced, dragging her comrade into the kitchen.
Cas looked down at a couple of cedar siding shingles lying in the flower bed under the wall and had no trouble imagining doors being flung open. Hard.
She nudged Tolemek before he could walk in and showed him the shingles. "Perhaps it's good that she only visits us. You did pay the majority of the damage deposit."
"Hm. This house is still standing. She can't be doing too badly with her studies." He walked into the living room. "Even that couch is still standing. Alas."
"If machine guns couldn't take it down, nothing can." Cas poked a finger into one of the holes in the frame.
Sardelle walked out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. The air smelled wonderful, of cinnamon and cloves, and Cas thought she detected a berry pie of some sort too. Her stomach rumbled in happy anticipation.
"Hello, you two," Sardelle said with a smile.
"You're baking?" Cas asked. "I didn't know, uhm." She paused, not wanting to offend. She hadn't been aware that Sardelle had culinary skills.
"Fern is baking. I'm assisting." Sardelle smirked, implying that this might not be as calm an activity as the words suggested. "There is instruction involved. Fern is concerned that Ridge is working too much and that I'm not fattening him up properly."
Cas blinked, trying to imagine a portly General Zirkander wedging himself into his flier. He was already on the tall side for a pilot, so he had better keep his frame lean.
"His head is already plenty fat," Tolemek said.
Other than the slightest eyebrow raise, Sardelle ignored the dig--she had a way of making an insult, and the