“What brings you to our home tonight, Lord Lockvale?” Aunt Tadelay asked. “I’ve run into you at social gatherings before, I believe. You do property surveys for the kingdom, isn’t that right?”
“Yes, my lady. I’m visiting folks in the area, making sure everyone is doing well. There have been reports of dragons in this part of the country, as you may know.”
“And that’s part of your job as a surveyor?”
“As a concerned Iskandian subject and nobleman, certainly.” The man had a gray mustache to match his gray hair, and a greasy smile that put Rysha on edge.
She couldn’t remember having ever met him at social gatherings or otherwise, though the family name was familiar. She didn’t like that Father had been even more tense since his arrival.
“It’s remarkable that you have so much time to worry about others,” Tadelay said. “I’d heard that your family was having some trouble, due to some debts your father failed to pay off before his passing.”
“Oh no, nothing serious, my lady.” Lockvale waved a dismissive hand. “It’s true we sold some of our lands a few years ago, but only because it was a burden to maintain them, not because we were impoverished or anything of the sort. How ludicrous to contemplate.”
“Hm.”
“Tadelay,” Rysha’s mother whispered. “You of all people should know it’s improper to discuss finances at the dinner table.”
“Yes, I suppose it is. Forgive me. I’ve had a glass or two already.” She waved to the red wine next to her plate, though it was full, and Rysha thought it had been for the whole night.
Trip? she asked, hoping he was monitoring her thoughts. She touched his thigh under the table to make sure.
He’d been watching the newcomer and her father, but he promptly responded, Yes?
Are you busy?
Being lectured for not sampling something from every dish and every wine bottle? Moderately so.
Er, is that Azarwrath?
Yes, he lives vicariously through me and my taste buds. What’s your question?
I wondered if you have any idea what this Lockvale is up to and why my aunt was carrying out beverages earlier.
So she could personally poison me, I imagine.
You drank the cranberry ale, and you’re still alive. Nothing was poisoned.
Are you sure? It had a funny taste.
That’s the secret ingredient. Lemongrass. I know the recipe since I used to make it with my grandmother as a girl. Rysha glanced toward the spot at the table where her grandmother had once sat. Family meals had been much more enjoyable with her here, especially since Rysha had joined the army. She’d always stood up for Rysha’s choice and had loved to bring up all news events and all gossip at the table, whether appropriate for dinner discussion or not.
Lemongrass? I don’t even know what that is.
A culinary and medicinal herb from Iskandia’s southern regions. The recipe calls for two stalks, bruised lightly, then cut into half inch pieces.
I think that’s what your aunt wants to do to me. Though she’s admittedly glowering at me less now that this Lord Lockvale has arrived. And yes, I have learned a few things. Do you want me to tell you here? Your mother is concerned that you’re touching my thigh under the table and gazing lustfully at me.
Lustfully? I’m looking at your knuckles, not your naked chest. Rysha did turn away and make a point of chatting with her brother on her other side, asking him how the wine business was doing.
“I heard the Swanvales are thinking of selling their timberlands,” Aunt Tadelay said, apropos of nothing, though the shrewd look she sent at Lockvale made Rysha suspect it was apropos of something.
Did she believe this man a part of some scheme? Something that could affect their family? What did Lockvale want to talk to her father about?
“There have been a lot of bandits about,” Lockvale said. “Perhaps they’re joining those people who are selling their land and turning to the safety of the city.”
“Timber bandits?” Aunt Tadelay asked, her voice dripping sarcasm. “Are they traipsing through forests and leaving with logs in their pockets?”
“I understand steam wagons and saws are involved.” Lockvale sipped from his glass, then looked up and down the table, as if seeking a less prickly conversation companion than Rysha’s aunt. His gaze settled on Trip. “Captain, you’re in the flier battalion, is that right?” He waved at the flier-shaped pin on Trip’s uniform.
“Yes, sir—my lord.”
Lockvale smirked at the slip, looking down his nose at Trip.
Rysha gritted her teeth, recognizing that condescending I’m-a-noble-and-you’re-not look. Maybe she should have told Trip to unleash his scylori, after all. Nobody lesser than a dragon would look down upon him then. Besides, it always seemed unfair to ask him to cloak his true nature, even if he hid it himself most of the time. She didn’t think any of his Wolf Squadron comrades had seen him exuding his natural power.
“Seen any battles with dragons?” Lockvale asked.
“Several. As has Rysha.”
“Oh yes. I’d heard one of your girls had become a soldier, Lord Ravenwood.” Lockvale’s gaze shifted to Rysha’s father. “How pedestrian.”
“We can’t all be as noble as land surveyors,” her father murmured.
Rysha caught Trip wincing, and she touched him under the table. She knew he’d meant to suggest she was doing the same kind of important and dangerous work that he was, not lead in to her or her family being insulted.
“Has the army come up with any idea about how to deal with these dragons yet, Captain?” Lockvale asked. “They are a tedious problem.”
“We have a few ideas. It’s true that we can’t simply keep reacting to attacks on our land.”
“That’s a certainty. I suppose the army isn’t the most imaginative institution though when it comes to solving problems, eh? You pilots just fly at things and shoot them, don’t you?”
“That’s my job, sir,” Trip said coolly, and Rysha knew he hadn’t made that slip, leaving off the my lord, accidentally.
“I’d prefer if you call me Lord Lockvale or my lord,” Lockvale had the gall to say. What an ass.
“We don’t always get what we prefer,” Trip said.
Rysha’s mother and father frowned at each other. They might not like Lockvale, but they would no doubt feel it their duty to ensure their class wasn’t snubbed by some commoner. To Rysha’s surprise, a faint smile tugged at the corners of Aunt Tadelay’s mouth.
Trip, Rysha thought. Can you tell if he’s—
Storyteller! Shulina Arya spoke into her mind, the word thunderous as it bounced around inside Rysha’s skull.
Rysha gripped the table and managed not to fall off her chair. Yes?
There is a silver dragon snooping around your castle.
Rysha resisted the urge to correct the dragon about the house’s more modest label, and asked, What?
Trip looked at her and nodded. To let her know he was being included in the conversation too?
He will not speak with me. Shall I chase him off?
Any chance you could question him and find out why he’s here? Trip asked before Rysha could respond. He didn’t sound surprised in the least about this dragon.
If I can catch him, I can most certainly question him. Storyteller, is this your wish?
Yes, Rysha said, bemused that Shulina Arya would ask her permission, or at least her opinion, before acting. I’d like to know if my family is in danger. And I’d like for my family not to be in danger.
I will valiantly battle him and slay him if he’s a danger to them!
Questions first, please, Trip said, his gaze drifting back toward Lockvale, who’d found another dinner companion to chat with.
Rysha wanted to drag Trip off to a private corner to find out what he’d learned so far. As it was, she had to make an effort to speak with her brother again, lest her family find it odd that she and Trip were gazing silently at each other without
talking.
Lockvale’s head came up. “Lady Ravenwood, I thank you and your staff for the fine meal, but I don’t believe I can eat any more. Lord Ravenwood, are you able to have that meeting with me now?”
Rysha’s father had only finished half the food on his plate and didn’t look like he wanted to leave the table, but he said, “Yes. Let’s go to my study.”
“Excellent. Have you any cigars to finish off the meal with? I do enjoy those imported Dakrovian ones of yours.”
Father’s jaw tightened, but he nodded and pointed toward the hall leading to his study.
Oh, he’s flying away from me, Shulina Arya cried, the disappointment ringing in Rysha’s mind. The coward!
Rysha tensed, feeling like she should be out there, on Shulina Arya’s back to help her chase down an enemy.
Mother cleared her throat. “I assume you’ll be spending the night, Rysha?” She looked at Rysha, tension tightening her eyes, then looked at Trip. “If so, I’ll have the maid take your friend to the guest wing. I trust he’ll stay there and that you’ll stay in your room. This isn’t a college dormitory—or an army barracks.”
Jhory and Krey snickered while Severin’s mouth dropped open and he glanced at Trip, looking appalled. Rysha’s cheeks warmed.
“Thank you for your generous offer of a guest room for Trip, Mother,” Rysha said, smiling through her teeth. “But we’ll be returning to the city tonight.”
Mother’s eyebrows flew up. “It’s after dark, and it’s a long ride back to the capital. Even if it weren’t, it’s not safe to travel the highways at night anymore.”
“We’re trained soldiers, Mother.” Rysha hesitated, debating if she should mention that they would ride Shulina Arya back, assuming she didn’t get into trouble with that silver dragon, and could be back in the city in less than an hour.
“That doesn’t mean you should court trouble.”
“…think she’s sleeping with a witch—mage?” Jhory whispered to Severin.
“If she is, what if he’s controlling her?”
“He doesn’t look like he could control his own prick.”
Rysha dropped her face into her hand. What had ever made her think that bringing Trip to a family dinner would be a good idea? For that matter, what had made her think bringing herself would be wise?
Rysha gazed toward the cloudy sky, glad it wasn’t raining, but feeling silly standing on the gravel drive a half mile from the house. Perhaps it had been premature to leave, but when her brothers had started speculating about whether Trip had used magic to make her fall for him, she hadn’t been able to take it any longer.
“She is coming back, right?” Trip asked dryly, his voice sounding over the chirps of crickets and hoots of owls in the trees around the lake.
“I’m sure she is. Can you still sense her?” Rysha remembered that his range was supposed to be forty or fifty miles when it came to detecting dragons and their prominent auras.
“I can. She’s about twenty miles that way.” He pointed east, toward the mountains.
“Still over our property then. Our valley continues up into the foothills. Or it will as long as my father doesn’t sell it. Were you able to learn anything about that?”
Trip stuck his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t catch your father thinking about selling the property—actually, there was one thought about him not wanting to do it—but here’s what I got: ever since this silver dragon started hanging around, the workers have been quitting left and right. The dragon hasn’t hurt anyone, but they’ve all said they’re too worried to continue living here where it’s lurking. Your father has had trouble attracting new workers, and he’s concerned he’ll have to close down some of the family businesses.”
Rysha frowned. “We’re in the growing season now. He’ll need more people, not fewer. Especially by the end of the summer and early fall when everything needs to be harvested.”
“I could possibly make some interesting magic-powered machinery that could help with harvesting.”
“Trip.” She leaned on him and wrapped her hands around one of his arms. “I appreciate you wanting to help, but you should help people who are nice to you, not snobby elitists. Or silly stoat-heads.” The latter, she applied to her brothers. She loved them, but they still acted like teenagers when they were together.
“I’d never help anyone if I made that rule,” he said, his tone dry again.
Her frown deepened. “You do have friends.”
“I know. It was a joke. Mostly. I’m aware that I… something about me rubs people the wrong way at times. A lot of times. I don’t know how to change that unfortunately. I try to hide my otherness—you know that—but I think it oozes out anyway.”
“It does, but people shouldn’t be so quick to judge otherness. How infuriating.”
He wrapped an arm around her back. “Something else you should know about the dinner,” he said, not sounding particularly infuriated—maybe he was used to being judged as quirky, “is that I caught this Lord Lockvale thinking a lot about your family’s land. It’s clear he wants it. He intended to make your father an offer on it tonight, a second offer. He was here a couple of weeks ago and met with your father then too.”
“I wouldn’t think his family would have enough money to make such an offer. We own so much land that’s fertile or has ore and timber on it that it’s worth a lot even if we’re not necessarily swimming in money. We would be if we sold it. Well, maybe not right now.” Rysha leaned back to look up at his face, though she couldn’t make out his features in the dark. They had moved away from the gas lamps around the house, so her parents wouldn’t know they didn’t have typical mounts waiting out in the stable. “With all the uncertainty and unrest, this would be a horrible time to sell land. Especially if there’s a dragon hanging right around here.” Rysha imagined prospective buyers coming out to see the manor as a silver dragon sailed overhead.
“A horrible time to sell,” Trip agreed. “An excellent time to buy if someone were forced to sell.”
Rysha mulled that over. Would her father feel forced if he couldn’t find enough workers to run the family businesses and help in the fields and orchards? Or would her mother and aunt and everyone else grow tired of worrying about that silver dragon lurking around? Was there a price at which they might feel tempted to sell the entire estate?
The thought horrified her, both because she’d grown up here and loved the valley and the lake and everything beyond, and because if her parents didn’t have the businesses, they wouldn’t be making an income. If they didn’t get what the property was worth—or even if they did—would it be enough for them to live on? And Aunt Tadelay too? And her brothers, for that matter. Rysha and her sister were the only ones who didn’t have incomes that depended on the family businesses.
“My understanding from my telepathic spying was that Lockvale’s offer was disgustingly low and also that the offer he intended to make tonight was the same one, with the promise that he wouldn’t offer as much in the future if your father didn’t accept this week.”
“You don’t know the amount, do you?”
“No.”
“If Father did feel he had to sell, I’m sure he could find another buyer, one willing to offer fair market value or close.”
“How sure are you? Because that’s not what Lockvale thought.”
“Do you think he’s just trying to take advantage of the situation?” Rysha asked. “Maybe making low offers to a lot of the nobles with land in this area? Or is he targeting my father in particular? He couldn’t be working with this dragon, could he? How would that even work? It’s not like bribing a dragon with money would do anything. I assume.”
“What about bribing a dragon with tarts? Or stories?”
“I don’t bribe Shulina Arya with stories. She just likes them, and I feel it’s wise to accommodate dragons.”
“Likely so.”
Trip’s arm felt good around her back, and she leaned in closer. Even though there
weren’t typically big swings between daytime and nighttime temperatures here, it was getting late, and Rysha noticed the chill in the air.
“I didn’t catch him thinking about the dragon,” Trip said, wrapping his other arm around her, “but I didn’t pry deeper into his less-than-surface thoughts.” He hesitated and shifted his weight. “When I’ve done that before, I’ve hurt the person. Inadvertently. I was angry at the time—it was that cultist leader—and it’s possible I could be more careful about extracting information in the future, but seeing blood coming out of someone’s nose as he grabbed his head in pain made me… a little afraid of myself.”
“I’m sure it’s scary to have power like that, especially if you can’t always control it.”
“Yes. I’m never sure whether I should use it or not. Would it even be legal to use it on an imperial subject—a nobleman? Were there rules against mind reading back in the old days when mages were commonplace?”
“I think you’d have to ask Sardelle. My expertise ends at dragons. They had very few rules about anything. The fittest survived and ruled and did whatever they wanted.”
“I don’t think I can do what I want just because I’m fitter than Lord Lockvale. Though Azarwrath would have been pleased if I did.”
“I think my aunt would have been too. She didn’t like him.” Rysha leaned back in Trip’s arms as a new thought occurred to her. A thought that chilled her and brought memories of Xandyrothol to mind, Xandyrothol imitating Horus Silverdale. “There’s no possibility Lockvale is a dragon masquerading as a human to get what he wants, is there?”
Trip grew still. She wished she could tell what he was thinking.
“I didn’t sense anything unusual about him, but I also didn’t sense anything unusual about the would-be Horus. He did a good job dampening his aura and fooling us all. Though I don’t know if he could have fooled an actual dragon. We can ask Shulina Arya whenever she gets here, as long as Lockvale is still in the house.”