Cas rolled to her feet, intending to leap on his back to stop him.
Before Therrik’s hands wrapped around the box, it flew straight up. His knuckles bashed against the wall as he flinched in surprise. The wooden box sailed across the room, half an inch from the ceiling, then hovered there above the logbook.
“That item hasn’t been properly cataloged,” Sardelle said. “Let’s leave it in its box for now, shall we?”
Therrik glared at Sardelle, but not for long. He was well over six feet tall and could jump and touch the ceiling. The box floated over the table, making it harder to reach, but he leaped onto a chair and stretched for it again. The box zipped away from him, this time stopping over the window behind Sardelle. Lightning flashed outside again, highlighting her from behind. Her face was grim but calm.
Therrik, with one foot on the table and one on the chair, alternated between staring at her and staring at the sword. Cas had found her feet but hesitated, not certain what to do.
“Should I get the general?” she mouthed to Sardelle.
Cas didn’t know if Zirkander’s presence would do anything, not if Kasandral was feeding extra fury into Therrik, but if Therrik was going to listen to anyone here on the outpost, it would be a superior officer, whether he liked Zirkander or not.
Before Sardelle could respond, Therrik leaped at her. She didn’t flinch as he sailed toward her, arms outward, his fingers curled like talons. Cas sprinted toward them, not sure how she could pull him off. Why in all the hells hadn’t she brought a pistol down with her?
Therrik struck an invisible field and flew backward, almost crashing into Cas. She scrambled to the side. He slammed into the table as he landed, and it pitched over, books flying and wood squealing as chairs were shoved away.
The box floated across the ceiling, passing over Therrik’s head as he leaped to his feet, then coasting through the doorway.
Cas might have laughed at the exasperated expression Therrik wore, but his icy glare snapped onto Sardelle and on her.
“I am not your enemy, Colonel,” Sardelle said.
“You’re a witch,” he snarled, as if the idiotic statement refuted her claim.
“I don’t know what’s going on in here,” a voice came from the hallway, “but it doesn’t sound like the proper use for a room full of priceless artifacts.”
Zirkander stepped through the doorway, his eyes hard as he looked past the overturned table and chairs and pinned Therrik with his gaze. He was wearing socks, and his hair was rumpled, but he had thrown on his uniform jacket and cap, the gold general’s rank gleaming at his collar and on the cap, above the fancy gold braids.
Therrik growled, but some of the fight went out of his stance. If nothing else, he seemed to realize he had missed his opportunity to hurt Sardelle. To kill Sardelle, Cas amended with a shudder. That sword wanted her dead, and Therrik would be pleased to let Kasandral use him for the purpose.
“Can’t you keep your people out of my storage room, Zirkander?” Therrik snapped. “It isn’t for tourists.”
“Sardelle has more right to those items than anyone else alive,” Zirkander said. “She’s hardly a tourist here.”
Therrik’s brow furrowed, more with confusion than anger this time. He must have never learned her story.
“We have a meeting in the morning,” Zirkander continued. “Early. I suggest you get some sleep, Colonel.”
His gaze flicked toward the upturned table, and Cas almost expected him to order Therrik to fix the furniture before leaving, but he kept his mouth shut. Maybe he questioned if Therrik would actually obey. Cas hadn’t missed that he hadn’t called Zirkander “sir.”
After a glare at Cas, as if she was responsible for all of his problems, Therrik stomped toward the doorway. Zirkander did not step out of his way to make it easy for him to pass. Cas half expected Therrik to bowl him over, but he merely glowered and stepped around Zirkander. He looked toward the ceiling as he entered the hallway, maybe hoping for another chance to grab Kasandral, but he must not have seen the box, because he stomped off without another word.
“Everyone all right?” Zirkander looked at Cas, but his gaze lingered on Sardelle.
“Yes,” Sardelle said.
“Yes, sir.” Cas’s shoulder would have a bruise from Therrik’s grip, but it wasn’t worth mentioning. The dragon would surely do much worse to her.
Though Sardelle did not appeared rattled, Zirkander crossed the room and hugged her. The sword box floated through the doorway, back from wherever it had gone, tilted, and settled against the wall again.
“Is it strange that things like that have stopped seeming weird to me?” Zirkander asked.
They hadn’t stopped seeming weird to Cas. She wondered how many books and swords floated around their house.
“I don’t think so.” Sardelle slipped an arm around Zirkander’s waist and returned the hug.
They weren’t kissing or doing anything overly snuggly and amorous, but Cas thought about making an excuse to leave. Watching other people share affection had always made her uncomfortable. Maybe because she hadn’t been around much of that growing up.
“Do I blame Kasandral for Therrik’s attack?” Zirkander asked. “Or do I instate disciplinary action?”
Sardelle considered the box.
“It definitely has a pull on people, even through its case,” Cas said. “But I don’t think he tried to resist it.”
“He was probably tickled for the excuse,” Zirkander grumbled.
“I wasn’t hurt,” Sardelle said. “Am I right in that there would be a lot of paperwork involved in this disciplinary action?”
“Piles. We’d also be without a fort commander if I relieved him from duty, which could be inconvenient tomorrow.”
“Then I have no objection to leaving him be, if Cas doesn’t.” Sardelle extended a hand toward her.
Cas arched her eyebrows. She hadn’t expected to be asked. “I’m fine, sir.”
“All right.” Zirkander released Sardelle and righted a couple of chairs. “I’ll leave you two to your studies then.”
“You’re welcome to stay if you wish,” Sardelle said.
“To translate old words in an old book?” Zirkander flipped the table back into place. “No, thanks. I have to be alert and perky for that meeting in the morning, since I’ll be attempting to get Phelistoth to go along with my plan.”
Cas waited, curious to see if this plan would be explained. It sounded like something different from their original one.
But Zirkander only waved to the two of them and headed out, frowning briefly at the box before leaving. The last glimpse Cas had of him as he shut the door was of his socks. It was strange seeing her commanding officer half dressed, but she was glad he had come up. She couldn’t guess what else Therrik might have tried if he hadn’t.
Sardelle picked up the books and sat down, opening the tool one to the page Jaxi had been studying. Cas still felt Kasandral’s irritation rubbing at her skin like bristles, but she forced herself to sit down next to Sardelle. She needed to know these commands. Then nobody should be able to use the sword against her—or against Sardelle.
“The new plan doesn’t involve having you anywhere near me when I have to take out the sword, does it?” Cas asked. She doubted it would, but she was curious as to what had changed and what could possibly involve Phelistoth. She’d heard his last encounter with the other dragon hadn’t gone well.
“No. Are you ready to write down the translations?” Sardelle asked, touching the first line on the list. “You’ll need to memorize these words, rather than the modern ones, but it will be helpful to know what you’re saying—what you’re commanding the sword to do.”
So much for getting details about the plan. She ought to be used to being in the dark. After all, she was the lowly lieutenant. Not even that until she officially accepted a commission again. She remembered Zirkander’s promise that she would be promoted in a couple of years if she returned and continued to
be a good officer. Only days ago, she’d been certain she would never return, but now she wondered if it might be nice to gain more rank, enough to be privy to plans.
Aware of Sardelle watching her, Cas nodded and picked up a pen. “I’m ready.”
Chapter 16
The storm had not abated during the night, and as dawn approached, the wind blew so hard that it batted Tolemek around on the rope ladder, as if he didn’t weigh anything. His stomach protested the erratic swaying as he lowered himself from the airship to the dim courtyard below. The courtyard was empty, nobody yet braving the wind and rain. He doubted many were awake yet. The cloud-choked sky wasn’t much lighter than it had been in the middle of the night. He knew this, since he had been up then. If not for the cold air beating at him and the rain splattering his face, he would have been yawning and nodding off. He ought to get some sleep, but he wanted to check on Tylie and Cas, and he had sedation formulas to deliver. He also wouldn’t mind sneaking into Zirkander’s meeting if he could. General Ort had gone down for it a few minutes earlier. It irked Tolemek that he hadn’t been invited, but he suspected it had something to do with Zirkander’s request for knockout potions.
To his surprise, lights burned around one of the tram shafts. It was the one leading to the tunnels where Tylie and the others had been trapped the day before. A flywheel turned within the tower, moving the cable that raised and lowered the cars. He couldn’t imagine that anyone would be mining now, but maybe they were trying to clear more rubble to free more trapped people.
A branch of lightning lit up the sky over Galmok Mountain, the tip streaking down and striking something on the slope. A tree or a bush? He couldn’t see, but he wondered how safe the airship was hovering over the courtyard. It had lightning rods and had weathered the storm thus far, but his laboratory had shaken and swayed a lot during the night. He kept expecting the storm to pass, but if anything, the winds were blowing harder now.
At least his delivery errand gave him an excuse to miss out on helping with the work he had made for the airship crew. He had created a couple of buckets of a fire-retardant sealant. He doubted they could apply it effectively while the decks and hull were wet, but they could try to get a first layer down if they wished. He had designed the concoction while waiting for a gunsmith to manufacture the bullets Tolemek had designed for Zirkander and his pilots. That task had been nearly impossible, creating projectiles suitable for the fliers’ machine guns, with hollow ceramic tips containing small amounts of the dragon-blood-eating acid. Since that acid also ate metal, the bullets had to be fragile enough to break open upon impact, but strong enough not to crack before or during the firing process. It would do no good if the acid ate through the bullet tips and into the gun barrel before they could even be fired. He just hoped it could eat through dragon scales. Phelistoth had not been around, so Tolemek hadn’t been able to ask for a scale on which to experiment. On the chance the projectiles would be effective, he had also designed a small batch for Cas’s sniper rifle. She would much prefer using that weapon to Kasandral.
His boots splashed down in the mud, and he jogged for the headquarters building, the vials he had tucked into his pockets clanking slightly, despite the kerchiefs he had used to pad them. Why he hurried, he didn’t know, since his clothes were already soaked. What did more rain matter?
As he ran, the tram car rose into view, wobbling as it left the shaft and entered the wind’s influence. The gusts were almost as bad in the courtyard as they had been on the rope ladder. A tall, lean soldier hopped out, not as bundled as one should be for this weather. As the person crossed near one of the lanterns, he glimpsed her face. Captain Kaika. She didn’t seem to see him as she ran toward one of the stone buildings.
Was she still setting charges? If there were other people trapped down there, wouldn’t more soldiers be about, working on clearing rubble? Especially if the dragon was expected to return later in the day?
Don’t think about it too much, genius, or you might have be in the room when your gas grenades are set off, Jaxi informed him.
Tolemek decided to obey. He was already concerned that so many people at the top of the command structure were supposedly going to be knocked out as soon as the dragon was sighted. Still, he couldn’t help but want to argue with Jaxi. Her tone always made him itch to respond and get the last word in.
Aren’t you too busy at your special meeting to monitor me? He assumed Sardelle had been invited, military matter or not, and that Jaxi would be with her.
I’m never too busy to monitor retired Cofah pirates. Also, Ridge is making coffee while we wait for something to be finished, so there’s not much discussion happening yet.
Tolemek was standing in the doorway, and he glanced back toward the lit tram shaft, wondering if Kaika had anything to do with that something.
I told you to stop thinking about it.
Tolemek cracked a yawn and stepped inside, closing the door on the wind and rain—and the mystery in the courtyard. What are the odds that I could get some of that coffee when I’m delivering my goods?
You’ll have to take that up with these officers.
If Zirkander is making it, I suppose they’ll be lucky if it’s drinkable. I can’t imagine he has to do it for himself often. Tolemek imagined privates bringing generals steaming cups in the morning. That was how it had worked in his army. And at home, Sardelle could probably wave a hand and instantly produce a beverage.
Not quite, Jaxi said. Besides, she’s not an early riser, so Ridge has to wave his own hands around the coffeepot. How was the rain? Everyone up here is hoping our dragon friend doesn’t show up early. Or at all. But I don’t know how likely that is. Morishtomaric sounded awfully impatient. A twenty-four-hour ultimatum for an artifact that’s a thousand years old and that has been buried for centuries. As if it’s going somewhere.
Didn’t Phelistoth try to make it go somewhere? Tolemek had stopped working long enough the day before to check on Tylie after she had escaped the mines, and she had shared the story with him.
Yes, but he wasn’t very good at it.
The aroma of brewing coffee drifted down from the second floor, but Tolemek detoured toward the rooms on the first floor. If he waited until after the meeting started to deliver his goods, he would have a better chance of overhearing interesting details.
And to think Sardelle calls me nosy.
Imagine that.
The offices on the first floor had been turned into sleeping quarters, a necessity since the wooden military barracks had gone up in smoke. Tolemek knocked softly on a door at the end. Most of the rooms held numerous people, as evinced from the multitude of snores floating through the doors. Tylie shared her room with Captain Kaika, though whether Kaika had found any time to sleep since arriving was questionable.
“Come in, Tolie,” Tylie called.
Given the early hour, he expected her to be in her cot and snoozing. Instead, a ball of light floated in the air, and she knelt on the floor, painting a mural on the tiles.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Tolemek sat on the edge of her cot.
“Phelistoth is concerned.”
Tolemek glanced around the room, almost expecting him to be there, but Tylie was alone, her hair brushing the floor as she concentrated. Paint had found its way onto the tips of numerous strands.
“And that keeps you awake?” he asked.
“Sometimes.”
“Are you supposed to be doing that?” Tolemek doubted anyone had requested murals on the floor in this room. Judging by the cabinets and desks pushed against one wall, it wasn’t used for anything other than filing papers.
Tylie sat up and smiled. She’d managed to get a smear of orange across one cheek. “General Ridge found paints for me.”
“He’s your enabler, eh?”
“Not very many colors, though. I’m having to mix them on my own. Look, I’m painting what’s going to happen. Phel and Cas and Sardelle and General Ridge are going to slay the mean dragon in an epic
battle. You’re going to help them with your inventions.”
“You’ll probably need more than one tile to depict all that.”
“I just got started, silly.” Tylie set her brush down, one that looked more appropriate for painting a barn than a mural, and flopped onto the cot next to him. “Are you all right? You look tired.”
“I am, but you’re the one I’m worried about.”
“I’m fine.” She did seem surprisingly energized for the hour.
“General Zirkander offered to have Lieutenant Duck fly you home before the dragon comes, and I’d like you to go.” Assuming the rain and wind ever let up, he did.
Tylie frowned. “It’s going to get worse.”
“What is?” Tolemek looked at the tile, thinking of the battle.
Tylie waved toward the wall, where shutters protected a small window. “The storm.”
“How do you know?”
“Phel knows. He’s like a dog,” she said brightly.
“Yes.” Tolemek managed to keep his tone from sounding too dry.
“He senses things, the way animals do. Even more so, because of his magic. He said it wouldn’t be safe for me to ride in a little winged box right now.”
Tolemek hated the idea of Tylie being stuck here during a battle. What if the dragon started flinging fire around again? What if more Cofah airships showed up? What if that sorceress found a way to get the other airship fixed and bring it up here? Once again, he wished she was back with Zirkander’s mother. Why had he agreed to her coming out here? Sardelle and Phelistoth could have searched for a sword for her without her being present.
Tylie laid a hand on his forearm. “She won’t come. She and the mean dragon aren’t allies.”
“Who? The sorceress? Are you reading my thoughts?” Tolemek wasn’t surprised when Jaxi did that, but he hadn’t realized Tylie’s skills had progressed so much in the last few weeks.
“I’m not supposed to, I know. But you’re my brother.”
Such logic. “Then you know I want to keep you safe.”