“For her and because I have found a place here. Even if I’m not warmly welcomed by many, some do include me in their lives and seem to appreciate my presence. And King Angulus gave me a state-of-the-art lab and lets me order anything I like in terms of tools and ingredients.”
Targoson—Tolemek smiled. Trip hadn’t seen him do that before. He supposed he would also be excited if someone gave him a workshop full of modern tools and an unlimited budget.
“A lot of what I do is fulfill orders from the army,” Tolemek continued, “but I’m paid fairly for my creations, and they aren’t all weapons anymore.” He glanced at the pot of acid. “Usually. I also have time for my side business. I just purchased a house in a very nice area of town. It’s high up on a hill and overlooks Cas’s father’s estate.” His smile turned a bit smug, as if this was some coup. “We enjoy spending time there.”
“I was thinking of buying the lot across from General Zirkander’s house,” Trip offered, more because Tolemek had brought up houses than because it was relevant. “Someone put a for-sale sign up on it a couple of weeks ago.”
His questions about being accepted were mostly prompted by his upcoming inquest and the ease with which someone’s spurious claims had resulted in him being held. Even now, though he was out here working on his project, two military police were stationed in front of the temple and escorted him to and from the premises. Most nights, he stayed out here with the other dedicated workers so he could avoid the indignity of being walked to the barracks like a criminal.
Trip believed that King Angulus thought him valuable and wouldn’t let this inquest end in a death sentence, but it stung him to the core that it could even be possible. If he hadn’t been a strange-looking sorcerer with skin too dark for a typical Iskandian, would these charges ever have stuck? Did Lockvale’s word—and that of his comrades—get that much more weight simply because he was a noble?
“Most young officers would be horrified by the idea of building a house across the street from their battalion commander’s.”
“I’d like to help out with my little siblings whenever possible, and since everyone who needs training goes to Sardelle’s house, it seems logical.”
“Yes, I was there last summer when Zirkander talked Wreltad and Jaxi into helping him build that bunkhouse in the back for students. Most high-ranking military officers would hire a contractor for such work.”
“Were the swords that helpful?” Trip could imagine dragons allowing themselves to be bribed for food and other pleasures of the bodies, but what could convince a soulblade to move boards and hammer nails?
“Wreltad is Zirkander’s buddy. I’m sure he was helpful. I understand Jaxi helped cut down a few trees and shape the lumber. Via incineration.”
“I suppose if you don’t have a circular saw, fire is a valid method of—” Trip frowned as something plucked at his senses.
He walked toward the open back of the temple, the stone roof supported by columns far enough apart that a dragon could easily fly between them. The surf roared, waves crashing against the rocks nearby, and the men continued to work in the lot. All appeared calm, but Trip sensed a dragon. It wasn’t Bhrava Saruth. He was chatting up—or maybe blessing—a couple of women in the front of the temple. It also wasn’t one of the other Iskandian ally dragons. Trip had grown accustomed to dragons being around lately, so he wasn’t surprised he hadn’t felt another one slip in until it had gotten close.
The newcomer seemed large and powerful. A gold?
Trip peered toward the tops of the cliffs framing the inlet, and his breath caught when he spotted the dragon perched atop the rocks in the distance. Yes, it was a gold. A male. And he was looking down on the yard and the goings on below.
Trip hoped the dragon would think little of the structures humans built, and simply fly off, but even if he did, his presence here couldn’t signify anything good. It suggested the dragon coalition was spying on the city, perhaps preparing for another attack. Even worse, it could mean that they’d heard about Trip’s project and planned to destroy it before it was done.
An alien presence brushed Trip’s mind, and he buried his thoughts deep inside his mental bank vault. He looked out toward the workers and did his best to camouflage them, to hide them and their thoughts, though he doubted he could fool a dragon, especially a gold dragon.
“Trouble?” Tolemek asked, walking up behind him. He looked in the direction Trip was looking. “Ah. I don’t suppose he heard me request dragon blood and wants to help out.”
“That seems unlikely.”
As they considered the gold dragon, it sprang into the air and lazily flew out of sight to the north.
“Hm,” Tolemek said.
“I wonder if we can get some of the other dragons to spend a few days out here, ready to defend my project if it gets attacked.”
“They’ve been scarce since the iron was brought in.”
“True.”
Trip doubted he could count on the tainted iron by itself keeping dragons away, but maybe he would leave a few of the bars out around the project site.
“Only Bhrava Saruth refuses to leave his temple for long,” Tolemek added, “lest he miss the arrival of adoring worshippers.”
Trip sensed unfamiliar people entering the temple from the front—soldiers. More military police. They had to have come for him. He grimaced at the idea of being taken away from the project when there was so much work to do in what he assumed would be a short time.
“Captain Trip,” one of the two uniformed men approaching said.
“Sir.” Trip spotted the pins of a major on his collar. The younger man walking at his side was a lieutenant. Trip realized they were likely from the judicial department, not the police.
“I’ve come to inform you that your inquest will be in three days, early in the morning,” the major said. “Lieutenant Foxlin has been assigned to be your defender.”
Trip had no idea who that was but worried a lieutenant wouldn’t have a lot of experience. Had nobody higher ranking been willing to sign on to defend him? But maybe a younger officer would be more open-minded and less likely to dismiss him as something less than human because of his blood.
“At the king’s request, you’ve been granted surprising latitude…” The major looked around the temple, including to where Bhrava Saruth sat in human form on what could only be considered a throne with a woman in his lap and another kneeling on the dais, his hand on her head.
Trip wondered exactly what kinds of “blessings” the dragon was giving.
“I knew he wasn’t cleaning latrines,” the lieutenant muttered.
Trip had the urge to take them out back and show them what he was working on, but there were a lot of reasons to keep that a secret for now. Further, even though he trusted himself—and Rysha had come over one evening to check his math—he couldn’t be certain the weapons platform would do all that he’d promised until they got it in the air and a dragon attacked.
“So, make sure you’re there on time,” the major finished, pulling his gaze back from Bhrava Saruth.
“Yes, sir,” Trip said, though he wished he could push it back a couple more weeks until he’d finished everything here. Or push it back until half past never.
What did Lockvale stand to gain from this, anyway? Was it all out of spite? Because Trip had embarrassed him in front of his friends? But those same friends were testifying to an attempt at murder, so they were clearly willing to stand with him.
With their news delivered, the major and lieutenant hurried back the way they had come. Hunches to their shoulders and the quickness of their pace suggested they couldn’t wait to leave the temple. Because a dragon god lived there? Or because they suspected it oozed magic?
Trip rubbed the back of his neck, wondering if the average person would ever accept that magic and sorcerers could be useful.
21
The evening before Trip’s inquest, Shulina Arya dropped Rysha off at her family’s manor. Rysha faced the double-doored
entrance, squared her shoulders, took a deep breath… and didn’t move.
“Do you want to join us for dinner?” Rysha asked the dragon, looking for a reason to stall.
Also, she wouldn’t mind someone who would support her as she argued with her mother and father. She’d come down to ask one or both of them to travel to the city—she would happily provide winged transportation to get them there quickly—and act as character witnesses for Trip. At the least, it would be nice if they talked about how Lockvale had been pressuring them to sell their property. That ought to make the noble’s presence there the night of the fire appear more suspicious.
The eating would be done with forks and knives and spools? Shulina Arya asked.
Spoons, yes.
I find human eating implements confusing. Why do you simply not use your teeth and tongues?
Some foods are difficult to eat with teeth and tongue alone. Rysha remembered the dragon’s difficulty with the jawbreakers and thought she could understand.
Though sweets are enjoyable, I prefer simple food I can eat with my fangs and talons. Also the pleasure of the hunt. While you dine, I believe I shall seek a sheep.
“All right.” Rysha thought about suggesting that a wild ram would be a better choice than one of her family’s woolly livestock, but after killing that silver dragon, Shulina Arya deserved a sheep if she desired one. “I’ll see you later.”
Let me know when you wish to leave.
“Thank you. I will. And thank you for toting me all over the place. I have to admit it’s very convenient to travel so quickly.”
Indeed so. Human legs are so stubby and slow. Everybody should be a rider, so they can have access to a dragon.
“A shame there are more humans in the world than dragons, as your parents pointed out.”
Shulina Arya flew off, and Rysha had no reason to dawdle further. She opened the door, traveling the hallway and several rooms before finding her mother in the library. She sat at a desk, books stacked to either side of her and one open under her hands. The university term had just ended for the summer. Maybe she intended to catch up on personal reading.
“Rysha,” Mother said, looking up and smiling. “It’s good to see you again so soon.”
“Thanks, Mother, but I came on business.” Rysha walked into the library. “Personal business, admittedly. I was hoping to talk to you and Father.”
Mother’s smile faded. “Is this about that military inquest starting tomorrow. Centered around your… friend?”
Her gaze shifted to a newspaper on one of the stacks of books.
For the last three days, Trip had been on the front page. He wasn’t doing anything except hiding out and working on his project, so she assumed Lord Lockvale had a friend at the press he’d asked to stir things up. So far, the articles had been outcries against the sudden influx of those with dragon blood into the capital and the surrounding countryside. The journalists hadn’t mentioned Trip’s little siblings, but Rysha had read between the lines that Lockvale had heard about and was counting them, as well as supposing that more dragon-blooded children would be born soon. Rules had to be established and precedents established, he argued in one interview, or soon mundane human beings would find themselves enslaved to sorcerers once again.
As if that had ever happened in the first place. Rysha shook her head in disgust.
Her mother lifted her eyebrows, and Rysha remembered the question.
“It is about that,” she admitted. “I’m hoping that either you or Father will come to the capital and testify. You don’t have to say anything about Trip, just that Lord Lockvale has been up to dastardly practices and can’t be trusted.”
A faint clink sounded behind her, Aunt Tadelay standing in the doorway and stirring a mug of tea with a spoon.
“Rysha,” Mother said, “I understand you wanting to defend your friend, but we’ve only met him once, and we don’t truly know anything about him.”
“Other than that he has admirable assets.” Aunt Tadelay smirked and brought her mug to her lips.
Mother blinked. “Tadelay, you’re not referring to that—that night, are you? I thought that mortified you.”
“I was extremely mortified. But neither that nor his strategically placed pillow kept me from noticing assets. And understanding why young Rysha might be smitten with him.”
Rysha’s cheeks warmed at this uncertain defense.
“Smitten,” Mother said. “That’s the word the newspaper used.”
“They’re mentioning me?” Rysha had seen most of the articles but must have missed that one.
“The journalist said it’s likely he’s using his power to influence you so that he can marry you and gain a place for himself in the nobility.”
“Mother, surely you don’t believe such nonsense. Or you, Aunt Tadelay. You know what the silver dragon was up to and how Lockvale was trying to take advantage. He came here openly, trying to buy our land.”
“I’m aware of that,” Mother said, “but we don’t have any proof he was working with that dragon.”
“Trip said he was.”
“The Trip who is being accused of attempted murder.”
“Lockvale’s doing that to save his own reputation. He should be on trial here, but because he started this hubbub, nobody seems to remember that he was up to sleazy practices, even my own family, the one targeted by said practices.” Rysha realized she was yelling, and she took a deep breath, struggling for control. She had planned to be measured and rational, not bellow at her mother.
A throat cleared in the hallway. Her father had joined Aunt Tadelay in the doorway.
“We haven’t forgotten, honey. I certainly haven’t.” He shared a nod with Tadelay. “But like your accused officer, we lack evidence. It would be our word against his if we attempted to press charges. And since nobody ever saw him with this silver dragon, nobody who has come forward about it, there’s nothing to link him to it in the eyes of the law. Further, as you know, all the noble landowners in the region know each other and interact with each other regularly. Starting feuds never went well in the past, and it’s not something I wish to do now, not over this. He was stopped, it seems, and with the dragon gone, we can get our workers back.”
“He was stopped because of Trip,” Rysha said, turning to look into all three sets of eyes.
“Actually, he was stopped because of you and your dragon, was he not?” Aunt Tadelay asked.
“We never would have caught that silver without Trip’s help. He was creating magical walls so the silver had to turn. You were outside, Father. You saw that, right? The silver was too fast otherwise.”
“Hm,” her father said neutrally.
“Listen,” Rysha said, “you don’t have to love him or think he’s the right person for me.” Though she wished they would. “I’m just asking for someone to come to the city tomorrow and testify, to talk about the pressure Lockvale has been putting on the family to sell.”
Father sighed. Mother fiddled with one of the books on the desk.
Rysha’s shoulders slumped. It was such a small favor to ask, but maybe she’d been foolish to think her family would come through for her. It wasn’t as if she’d received any approval from them these last few years. Why did she even bother coming home? It was a waste of time.
She pushed past her father, not caring that her shoulder rammed against his, and hurried into the hallway.
She had almost reached the front door when Aunt Tadelay stopped her by calling her name. Rysha looked warily back at her, her hands in her pockets and her shoulders hunched. If anything, her aunt probably wanted to chastise her for stomping out without asking permission to leave or saying goodbye. A proper lady didn’t do such rude things.
“I’ll be there tomorrow,” Aunt Tadelay said.
For several seconds, Rysha stared at her, not understanding. “You’ll come to the city? To the army fort? For Trip?”
“For you.” Aunt Tadelay pursed her lips. “If your Trip is a s
orcerer, I don’t think he needs my help.”
“He won’t use his powers for his own personal gain. He has morals and ethics.”
“No wonder he’s being picked on by Lockvale. I will be there to say exactly what I think of him and what slimy scandalous things he’s been involved with, not just in regard to attempting to acquire our land, but in his relationships with other nobles as well.” Aunt Tadelay’s eyes narrowed.
Rysha suddenly wondered how much dirt she had on Lockvale. And on everyone in the nobility for that matter.
“As for your virile sorcerer… Dear, I feel like you have the power to make this problem go away and you’re not using it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you not just complete elite army training that allows you to pulverize men with your fists?”
“Yes, but—”
“And do you not have some kind of magical sword? And a great golden dragon that breathes fire and rips lesser beings into tiny pieces indistinguishable from the blood meal our gardener sprinkles on the lilac bushes?”
“Technically, yes, but—”
“No, no buts. You are a grown woman with more resources than any woman has likely ever had in the history of women. Go and deal with Lockvale yourself.”
“By turning him into blood meal? If I do that, you’ll end up testifying at my inquest.”
“Just tell him you’ll do that. That your dragon will incinerate him if he doesn’t drop the charges against your captain.”
“You think I should threaten him?” Rysha wasn’t horrified by the suggestion so much as she was startled that her aunt was the one making it.
“Of course not, dear. The nobility aren’t so crass. You pressure him. Imply that if he doesn’t tell the truth, your dragon will breathe fire all over him.”
“How is that different from a threat?”
“Because you’re a noble lady. Ladies don’t make threats.”
“I…”
Aunt Tadelay shooed her toward the door. “Run along. Deal with him before it gets late. It’s terribly rude to visit after dark, you know.”