Rysha nodded. “Thank you, ma’am, but I intend to fix this even before then.”
“Oh?” Sardelle asked, sounding a touch wary.
“I’m going to see the king.”
The golden ferret on Rysha’s shoulder rose up on her hind legs and chittered.
“And so is Shulina Arya.”
Rysha thought Sardelle might consider this a rash action and try to dissuade her.
All she said was, “Perhaps if she were to take a more imposing form, it might help you gain an audience more quickly.”
“We’ll discuss it on the way over.”
Shulina Arya hopped off Rysha’s shoulder, ran out the door, and turned into a dragon on the walkway.
“Or we’ll make a decision right now,” Rysha amended.
One of the babies cried up in the nursery—hungry for breakfast, no doubt. Rysha was surprised they’d been quiet all through her conversation with Trip.
“I shall wish you luck then,” Sardelle said. “And if you see Ridge today…” She eyed the empty plates and mugs around her living room. “Tell him we need more groceries, whenever he gets a chance.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
18
The door clanged shut, and the corporal who’d been left to stick Trip in his cell turned the key.
Trip wondered if the military police had any idea how easily he could unlock a lock with his mind. The bars were made of steel, not iron, and certainly not the tainted iron from the Rakgorath quarry, so they wouldn’t be an impediment.
But, as Rysha had pointed out, sneaking out and disappearing would make him look guilty. He would stay for now and see what happened. He wanted to finish his drawings, regardless. Maybe Rysha would come by to check his math—too bad they hadn’t gotten a chance for that earlier. Magic made manipulating metal and powering engines much easier, but he still had to have the physics right if he wanted his contraption to stay in the sky.
“May I have my drawings and pencils back?” Trip asked politely as the guard backed away.
They had removed his handcuffs, but failed to return the items he’d had in his pocket and, most importantly, his work. Had Azarwrath been there, he would have said something about the indignity of a sorcerer allowing such things to be done to him. But the soulblade was back with Sardelle for now. Even though he wasn’t as chatty as Jaxi, Trip found he already missed Azarwrath’s companionship. Or mentorship, as the soulblade would no doubt call it.
“Captain said to keep your stuff locked up in the evidence room.”
“The drawings I’m working on, blueprints for a weapons platform prototype, may help with the defense of the country.”
“Sure they will, Captain. Pilots are known to be genius scientists.”
“I have some mechanical aptitude,” Trip said, attempting to subtly influence the soldier with his power. He let his aura seep out as well, in case it helped. “Besides, there’s nothing wrong with letting me have some paper in here, is there?”
The soldier met his eyes, his mouth drooping open. He seemed entranced, but mustered another argument. “It might be witchy paper.”
“It’s just paper. I’m the witch. Though the more correct term is sorcerer. Bring the papers, please.”
“I’ll bring the papers, please.” The corporal disappeared around a corner and headed into the main building.
Trip kept a mental finger on the man’s mind, not letting up on the influence, though he always found it disconcerting when people lost their autonomy and obeyed. Creepy, Major Kaika would have called it.
He wondered if it was selfish to hope that Kaika would feel fondly toward him after he’d healed her the night before, and that in her fondness, she would speak of him to the king. In a positive way. A simple, “You should probably let Captain Trip go,” might be sufficient. Presumably, she had his ear, since she had his lips.
The guard returned, his expression still dazed, and slid the papers between the bars. Trip took them and the pens and pencils that followed.
“Is there anything else you need, Captain?” The guard bowed his head, his tone so deferential that Trip almost let go of all influence, his discomfort at manipulating someone returning in full. But he didn’t want the man to remember himself and insist on taking the papers back.
“No, Corporal. Thank you for your assistance. Return to your duty.”
“I’ll return to my duty.” The guard shuffled away.
Trip sat on the floor in the windowless cell, nothing but some faded charcoal marks on the back wall for decoration, and spread his papers out. The only light came from a single lantern at the end of the hall—Trip couldn’t see it from his cell—but fortunately he didn’t need it. What he needed was a few dozen ingots of tainted iron, thousands of tons of regular steel, and a legion of workers to help him build his structure. He wasn’t sure how he would get any of that from jail.
Shulina Arya landed in the courtyard mere steps from the castle’s front doors. The guards poised next to those doors, along with eight others on the walls, pointed their rifles at Rysha and the dragon.
Trusting that Shulina Arya would protect her, Rysha slid off and strode up the steps. The dragon extended her long neck, and her head followed her up the steps. They gazed together at the guards.
“I request an audience with the king,” Rysha said. “I’m Lieutenant—Lady Ravenwood.” She decided being from a noble family would be more likely to get her an audience than being a lowly officer. Even if she’d passed the elite troops training, she was still just a lieutenant, one of thousands in the service.
One guard looked flummoxed and like he didn’t know what to do with his rifle. The other gazed back at her blandly, as if dragons landed in the courtyard on an hourly basis.
“Do you have an appointment?” he asked.
“No, this is an emergency.”
“The whole city is in a state of emergency. The king doesn’t have time for extra appointments. He’s got military advisors, contractors, and officials scheduled all day.”
“Will you at least tell him I’m here and let him decide? It’s a matter of security and safety for the entire country.” Rysha thought of the schematics Trip had been drawing, that he wanted to turn into a reality, and decided it wasn’t entirely hyperbole to say that.
“I’m sorry, Lady Ravenwood, but we’re just the door guards. We don’t address the king directly. That’s not our place.”
“Can you find me someone who does?”
“No, ma’am. We don’t address that person, either. We just keep people out unless we’ve been advised to let them in. And we haven’t been advised to let you in.”
“Only because the king doesn’t know I want to come in,” Rysha said, though she didn’t truly know if he would receive her. There were thousands of nobles in the country. Who knew how many pestered him on a regular basis? Though that damn Lockvale had certainly caught his ear quickly enough… “If you don’t let me in, I intend to wait here on your doorstep all day.” She tilted her head toward Shulina Arya to imply they wouldn’t have much luck moving her.
It occurred to her that with the dragon’s help, she could likely walk straight through the castle to whatever office or conference room Angulus was seeing people in. Would he appreciate such boldness? According to Kaika, it had worked for her once. She’d blown up an urn rather than strolling in with a dragon, but the tactics seemed similar.
“If you want to do that, it’s unlikely we can stop you,” the guard said. “Just don’t let your dragon trample the shrubbery, please.”
I have located your king, Storyteller. He is in an office outside of a bed lair, meeting with a pair of male individuals.
Is a bed lair like a bedroom?
I do not know. Dragons do not build rooms for themselves.
“Is Major Kaika in the castle today?” Rysha wondered if she could get an audience with her and through her, see Angulus.
The guards glanced at each other.
“We don’t know that
information, ma’am.”
Rysha guessed they did but had orders not to gossip. Great.
“Then I’m afraid I must invoke the Feudal Convocation Agreement of 698, Section 12, Paragraph 13, sub-paragraph 3 where it explicitly states that in times of war, any noble may bring advice and advantages directly to the king and shall not be delayed in meeting with him. Anyone who seeks to delay such an important meeting will be subject to punishment not to exceed nine hundred days in prison.”
One of the guards scratched his head. “We’re not at war.”
“What do you call our relationship with the dragons who want to take over our country? I posit that we are most assuredly at war, at the least with the coalition that attacked yesterday, and perhaps with half of the entire dragon race.” She lifted her chin, doing her best to look righteous and far too authoritative to question.
“Uhm, you better check with his steward,” one guard told the other.
“Me? What’s wrong with your legs?”
“Yours are younger and longer.”
Shulina Arya, are you prepared to protect me and yourself from gunfire if I force my way inside? Rysha asked silently, worried this wasn’t going anywhere.
You are protected now.
Thank you.
Rysha took a deep breath, intending to stride between them, using her unarmed combat skills if need be, but one finally huffed and said, “Come on, Lady Ravenwood. I’ll check.” He lowered his voice to a mutter. “Don’t want to get stuck in jail.”
Storyteller, this guard is thinking unkind thoughts toward noblewomen.
That’s absolutely fine as long as he’s leading us to the king.
Shulina Arya shifted into human form so she could fit through the doorway. Fortunately, she didn’t appear with a scooter or roller-skates. He’s intending to take us to someone called Lord Millwood.
That’s the head steward, I think. The king would be preferable. Rysha hated the idea of asking the dragon to manipulate someone, but this would all go quicker and be easier if she could. Can you convince him that he truly wants to take us directly to the king?
Certainly. He has a meager mind.
Rysha decided not to ask what Shulina Arya thought of her mind.
“This way,” the guard repeated a few times as he took them through wide halls, past audience and banquet halls, and up a set of stairs to a series of personal suites.
Rysha had never been to this part of the castle and grew more nervous as they stepped into a carpeted hall lined with portraits of the former Masonwood kings. What would she do if Angulus truly resented this intrusion?
The guard stopped before a door and lifted a hand to knock, but paused, his face screwing up in confusion. Maybe he’d figured out someone—or some dragon—was manipulating him.
Rysha knocked before he could dwell on it.
It wasn’t until the voices inside stopped that she realized people had been talking. She hoped it wasn’t a truly important meeting. Maybe she would get lucky, and it would be Angulus and Kaika having tea together, and Kaika would make light of the interruption, ensuring Angulus did too.
“Enter,” a voice ordered. That was definitely Angulus. And his tone wasn’t inviting.
Do you want me to go first, Storyteller? Shulina Arya asked. The ire of human kings does not concern me.
No, thank you. This was my idea.
Mentally bracing herself, Rysha opened the door and strode into the spacious office.
Fire crackled in the hearth, and Angulus stood behind a desk and before one of two large windows. Two men in almost matching gray suits were in the middle of a presentation, complete with easel, pointer stick, and text and charts printed on large cards.
“I beg your pardon, King Angulus,” Rysha said, clicking her heels together and saluting sharply. “I don’t have an appointment, but I must talk with you about an important matter.” She kept herself from saying it was of country-wide security, since he would likely see through that.
“There aren’t any appointments available because he’s booked,” one of the men at the easel whispered to her, frowning. “We had to wait three months to present our concerns. Given the destruction dragons have been doing to crops…” He glanced at Angulus. “Well, it’s not my place to object.”
Rysha looked at the top card on the easel, prepared to feel bad—or at least rude—if their concerns were important and time-sensitive. It showed a picture of a pond next to equations dealing with volume and drainage rates, followed by a summary of the equipment and manpower needed to turn a wetlands area into agricultural land.
“Did you check your math?” Rysha asked, spotting an error in one of the equations. They would need a few tons more fill dirt than they were requesting to fill in the wetlands for farming.
“Of course we did.” Both men whirled toward the equation she pointed at.
“Seven gods, is that—someone didn’t carry the—Sire!” One man blurted while the other positioned himself to block the view of the card. “Please forgive us, but the gentleman who prepared our data should have been double-checked. We, uh, aren’t as ready as we thought. Many pardons.”
They hurried to fold the easel, grab the cards, and rush out, nearly knocking over the guard in the doorway. The guard still looked puzzled and was frowning at Shulina Arya.
“Jasfer,” Angulus said, meeting his eyes and pointing at Rysha. “Explain.”
“She invoked the, uh, Feudal Convocation Agreement of 697—no 8, sir. Section 12, Paragraph 13, sub-paragraph, uhm, something.”
“There’s no such document,” Angulus said.
“What?” The guard gawked at Rysha.
She shrugged, almost feeling bad for him, but she was on a mission, damn it.
“Go.” Angulus flicked his fingers toward the guard. “We’ll talk later.”
The man fled, his expression promising he did not look forward to that discussion.
“Lieutenant Ravenwood,” Angulus said, facing her as the door closed. “Explain. No, wait.” He strode from the window to the open back door that led into a private suite. “There’s a wayward lieutenant out here with a dragon.”
Rysha arched her eyebrows and thought about protesting that she was wayward, but Angulus didn’t sound angry, and she didn’t want to provoke him. Shulina Arya was poking around the room, peering at books on shelves and picking up and fiddling with what were likely priceless objets d’art.
“Sounds like a vast improvement over the stuffy people you’ve been talking to all morning,” came Kaika’s voice from the next room over.
“That remains to be seen,” Angulus said.
Kaika walked out in a lush brown robe and fluffy tiger-striped slippers. She carried a steaming mug of something and smiled, but she didn’t look like herself. First off, Rysha had never seen Kaika out of uniform, even when they’d been traveling together, so that was startling, but more alarming was that most of the hair on the left side of her head was gone or cut extremely short. Rysha had heard she’d been burned, but she didn’t see evidence of wounds, other than the missing hair. The robe might hide a lot, though. Rysha glanced at Kaika’s hands and bare shins.
“I don’t suppose dragons can grow hair back?” Kaika looked at Shulina Arya, who was spinning the wheel on a gold-and-silver ancient fidget ball from the Dumeriun civilization. Rysha was positive only a few of those devices remained in existence.
Shulina Arya looked up. “You wish to be hairy?”
Angulus held up a finger. “Be careful how you phrase your request.”
“What, you couldn’t love an ape?”
“It depends what the ape’s propensity for injuring itself is. Apes probably don’t fling themselves in front of fire-breathing dragons.”
“Ah, so now you’re thinking of replacing me with a zoo specimen.”
She smirked and elbowed him. Angulus gave her a tender smile, and Rysha looked away, not sure she was supposed to witness their intimate moments. Though a part of her was glad to kn
ow Angulus had tender inclinations, at least somewhere in there. He always appeared so stern at speeches and in his photographs. Rysha had met him a few times over the years at the semi-annual social gatherings among the nobility, but he’d always seemed distant at those, like a man who either didn’t want to be there or who was, despite his job, uncomfortable in crowds.
“What’s wrong, Rysha?” Kaika asked, glancing at Shulina Arya. “Other than gullible guards and math-challenged agri…thingies. I forgot who those people were.”
Kaika’s eyes crinkled, and Rysha sensed that she at least approved of her tactics.
“The MPs came and arrested Trip,” Rysha blurted, then winced, realizing she shouldn’t have led with something that sounded like it was a personal problem for her. She had to make the king understand how important Trip was to the country.
Surprisingly, Kaika slapped Angulus on the chest with the back of her hand.
“What? I didn’t arrest him.”
“You can wave your hand and have him un-arrested.”
“Mm,” Angulus said, very neutrally.
“He was in the middle of working on a solution for our dragon problem, and they dragged him away from his drawings,” Rysha said, already sensing that this wouldn’t be as easy as asking for hand-waving. She’d been afraid of that. “And if dragons come again, and he’s locked up, the city will be at a disadvantage. I know you drove them off yesterday without us here, but we can certainly help with the next attack. And if Trip can get his hands on some of the banded iron from Rakgorath, he has an idea that may solve our problem forever. At the least, it would make the dragons hesitate to attack us.”
Angulus’s lips pressed together, and Rysha sensed she was pushing too hard.
“Also,” she said, to wrap things up, “he didn’t do what that idiot, Lockvale, is accusing him of. All he did was ask Lockvale questions, which I asked him to do. That bastard has been plotting against my family, trying to bring down the value of our land and scare all our workers away so he could buy our estate cheaply. He even talked a silver dragon into colluding with him.”