Revelations

  Trip couldn’t believe how calmly Zirkander said that, as if sorcerers and magic were such a common thing. But maybe in this house, they were. That boggled his mind anew.

  “If your dad is a dragon, you have to be a sorcerer,” the girl said. “That’s a rule. It must be.”

  “But he’s too old to train with us, isn’t he?” The boy wrinkled his nose.

  “Tylie’s old, and she trains with us.”

  “But she’s…” The boy waved to Tylie’s bare feet and paint-spattered dress. “She doesn’t seem old.”

  “I need help with the cookies,” came a call from the kitchen. Sardelle?

  The kids bolted in that direction. Tylie waved at Trip and collected the little girl from Zirkander.

  “Sardelle says you and Captain Trip can go have your beer, General Ridge,” she proclaimed, smiling. “We’re going to babysit.” The smile broadened. “Jaxi’s going to help. She missed babysitting terribly.”

  That’s not what I said, Jaxi spoke into Trip’s mind. I said I missed the family. Being in charge of a toddler? Nobody could miss that.

  “Thank you, Tylie,” Zirkander said, rolling to his feet. “Why don’t we go out to the duck blind, Trip? It’s my escape for when the house gets a little too hectic. Magically hectic, that is.” He didn’t quite shudder, but Trip received the distinct image of Zirkander trying to read a magazine on the bullet-riddled couch while objects levitated across the living room, occasionally crashing to the floor when a young student’s concentration lapsed.

  “Yes, sir.” Trip followed him out of the house, though a duck blind wasn’t quite what he’d imagined when he’d pictured having a beer with the general. Did Zirkander hunt? Shooting ducks seemed like it would be boring after battling against flying pirates and enemy pilots, targets that shot back.

  A chittering came from behind them, and the golden-furred ferret ran past them and along a path out of the yard and toward the pond. He disappeared around a bend, following the shoreline.

  “Alas, it’s hard to keep magic entirely out of the duck blind,” Zirkander admitted.

  “He comes by often?”

  “To visit his high priestess, yes,” Zirkander said, leading the way along the pond’s edge, reeds and grasses stretching up to either side of the muddy path. “And Phelistoth visits because he’s linked to Tylie, who is here a lot, still learning from Sardelle. I guess it takes years to grasp all the finer points of magic. And last night, a new dragon came to dinner. I believe I have you to thank for that.” Zirkander looked back and quirked his eyebrows.

  “Yes, sir. I mean, we did free the Iskandian dragons. We were happy to do so once we learned they actually liked humans and wanted to be our allies. I didn’t know visits to your dinner table would be the result. Which one was it?”

  “Shulina-something. I’m not positive, but I believe Bhrava Saruth may have been flirting with her. They—ah, hm.” Zirkander paused, his gaze forward again.

  They had reached the duck blind, a cement and stone structure set into the shoreline at one end of the pond. A wide rectangular window overlooked the water, and a wooden door in the side stood open, revealing the interior, which had nothing to do with hunting. A faded carpet covered the cement floor, and two old, hideously upholstered chairs rested against the back wall, a table between them. A bookcase on the far side held magazines, novels, and a phonograph, as well as a cracker tin and a grease-stained brown bag.

  “Well,” Zirkander said, looking at the roof of the structure rather than inside. “I guess that explains the absence of the ducks that usually rush the place, hoping for crackers.”

  Not one but two golden-furred ferrets scampered about on top of the duck blind.

  “I assume that’s the female?” Zirkander looked at Trip.

  Though the dragons’ auras were significantly diminished when they were in this form, something Trip had first experienced when he’d struggled to pick the silver dragons out of that pigeon flock, he could still sense that they were magical creatures. And he could tell that Shulina Arya was the second ferret. Her aura brimmed with youthful energy and enthusiasm.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “That most definitely looks like flirting,” Zirkander decided.

  Both ferrets stopped scampering and rose up on their hind legs to look down at them. Bhrava Saruth’s deep green eyes were different from Shulina Arya’s violet ones, but they both contained power and an appealing allure, even in this form. Trip had the sense of them gazing into his soul and knowing all of his hopes and fears. Zirkander gazed back at them, a hand in his pocket, looking as unflappable as always. Though he’d battled enemy dragons numerous times, he didn’t seem to have any trouble accepting these as allies. And house guests.

  Greetings, friends, the female said. I have been informed that many humans in this era are not yet aware that some dragons are amicable and do not pose a threat, so I am hiding in this diminutive form. The female ferret—she was slightly larger than Bhrava Saruth—dropped to all fours, ran forward, and peered over the roof. Also, Bhrava Saruth said it would be fun.

  “Captain, does that ferret have frosting smudged in its whiskers?”

  “I’m not sure, sir,” Trip said, startled by the question.

  The female’s whiskers did seem to be oddly clumped together on one side, and a smear of something white stuck to one furred ear.

  The male ferret chittered, dropped to all fours, and sprang off the roof of the duck blind. He disappeared into the grasses, and the female leaped after him.

  Zirkander shook his head and walked inside.

  “Fish for a while?” he asked, plucking up two poles that leaned in the corner by the door.

  “Yes, sir.” Trip grinned as he accepted one of the poles.

  He suspected Zirkander had invited him out here to talk about something, but he didn’t care. He was happy to chat with the general, both because of who he was and because he was one of the few people he’d encountered who wasn’t perturbed by magic. If Zirkander had dragons and sorcerers-in-training all over his house, he wasn’t likely to object to another magically inclined being in his life. Or in one of his squadrons, Trip hoped.

  “Damn, I was afraid of that.”

  “Sir?”

  Zirkander had moved to the far side of the duck blind to peer in the brown paper sack.

  “My stash from Donotono’s Bakery was raided.”

  “By ferrets, sir?”

  “It seems so. Fortunately, Sardelle is making cookies. They’re always good, and I pretend the eggs weren’t magically lifted over the bowl and cracked open as part of a training exercise.” Zirkander turned toward a rope that dangled through the open window and into the water outside. The inside end was tied to something reminiscent of a cat bookend. “Beer or sarsaparilla?” he offered.

  “Yes, sir. Beer.”

  Zirkander tugged up the rope, revealing a net full of stoneware bottles that had been nestled in the pond. “It’s fed by glacier water from the Ice Blades,” he said with a wink. “The pond doesn’t need to be resupplied daily with ice to stay cold.”

  “That’s smart, sir. Though I imagine some magical device could be made to keep beverages chilled.” Trip wondered if he could use his newfound talents to augment the devices he enjoyed building.

  “Oh, no. The duck blind is a magic-free zone.” Zirkander drew two bottles from the net with Rampaging Ram Brewery stamps on the front. “It’s a refuge for those unenlightened mundane folk needing a break from the peculiarities of sorcery.”

  Trip peered past him toward the recently raided bakery bag.

  “Well, in my fantasies it is.” Zirkander handed him a beer, quirked a half smile, and grabbed a bait bucket.

  They used a stump to clamber up to the roof. There weren’t seats, but Zirkander plopped down on the edge of the duck blind, dangling his legs over the side, and poked into the bait bucket. Trip settled beside him and did the same. They cast out lines, carefully avoiding a surprisingly large flock of duc
ks making a home in the nearby reeds, and Trip looked over at Zirkander a few times, expecting the general to bring up whatever he had wanted to talk about.

  “The swirlblers are most numerous, but sometimes you’ll catch a dragon darter,” Zirkander offered.

  “I don’t think we have those in Eastern Iskandia.”

  “You fish often over there?”

  “A few times with my grandfather. He used to make me scrounge for the bait.”

  “Ah, I have access to an eleven-year-old boy for that.” Zirkander waved toward the house. “I pay him a nucro for ten worms and pretend he doesn’t use magic to dig them out of the ground in about five seconds.”

  As they further discussed the types of fish in the pond and strategies for retrieving them, it slowly dawned on Trip that the general hadn’t invited him out here to speak of anything in particular. Maybe he’d just wanted to get to know Trip better or show him all the eclectic visitors that came and went here, and also show that he was accustomed to them. Even though Trip’s heritage revelation seemed momentous to him, it might not be a big deal to Zirkander. If he’d had three full-blooded dragons as dinner guests the night before, what was one rather human-looking half-blooded one?

  “Sir,” Trip said, “will there be more missions soon? I know the king was concerned about our report.”

  “Very likely, but we haven’t put anything together yet. Tomorrow, we’ll start training pilots to fly with soldiers wielding the dragon-slaying swords from the back seats, do some practice runs and figure out the best way to get them close enough to strike.”

  “Will Major Blazer continue to be a wielder?”

  “Nah, better to have the pilots piloting.” Zirkander thumped him on the shoulder with the back of his hand. “We’re the flying rickshaw service for the army, you know.”

  “I suppose in the case of dragons, that makes sense.”

  “They’ll all go to the elite troops, I figure. Brace yourself. You’ll meet Colonel Therrik soon. He has a dislike for pilots, magic, dragons, magic, lower-ranking officers who don’t salute him promptly enough, and magic. Did I mention magic?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Also, if you get stuck taking him up to fight, he may throw up in your back seat.”

  “Er, is it possible to avoid getting him? I’d much rather have… oh, I guess I don’t know if she’ll continue to be a wielder.” Trip hoped her sword would go to someone else, but he doubted he would be that lucky.

  “Lieutenant Ravenwood?”

  “Yes, sir. She left my back seat in pristine condition, even pried out a ration bar wrapper that some previous occupant had left crammed in there.”

  Zirkander chuckled. “I expect she will continue to wield one of the swords, if she’s willing. Her academic background gives her some insight into the blades that the average combat soldier doesn’t have, so she might even end up as an advisor on them.”

  Trip hadn’t expected anything less, though he felt a pang of disappointment at this confirmation. He would still like to have her in his flier, rather than some other soldier. Admittedly, it had nothing to do with tidiness or wrapper extraction.

  “The king mentioned having already sent some archives over for her to study, information she might not have come across before that could help with locating more of those swords.” Zirkander wiggled his pole. So far, neither of them had had any nibbles. “As you could probably guess, he’s worried about all those dragons reputed to have come through the portal, especially when compared to the small number of dragons interested in allying themselves with Iskandia.”

  “I wish my report had been more favorable for us.” Trip wondered if he should mention the idea he’d been mulling over, of seeking his father. Unfortunately, it sounded like Rysha would be busy with other research.

  “At least you kept the empire from getting the portal. That’s something. I prefer the dragons that terrorize the countryside and eat sheep over the ones that ally themselves with enemy nations.”

  “But the ones that ally with us are acceptable?”

  “Oh, absolutely.” Ferret chitters came from the grass behind the duck blind. Zirkander’s eyelids drooped as he looked in that direction, then back to his inactive fishing pole. “Is it possible their dragonly aura is keeping the fish away?”

  “You’re asking me? I think you’re more of a dragon expert than I am, sir.”

  “Am I? That’s alarming.”

  Zirkander pulled his line in and checked the bait. The worm still dangled there. He plumped it up a little and tossed it back in. “I’ve tried pieces of pastries before and had some luck. It’s too bad my stash was raided.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Trip didn’t particularly care that his line hadn’t received any nibbles. He sensed the fish down there, lounging in the afternoon sun, and thought about pointing out that they would be livelier earlier in the morning. But he doubted Zirkander would invite him out for fishing at dawn. Besides, it was pleasant out here with the sun warming his shoulders. Maybe this would be a good time to bring up his idea. If he wanted to go hunting for Agarrenon Shivar, he would need Zirkander to approve leave for him.

  “Sir? I was also told—well, Bhrava Saruth suggested it actually—that the dragon who, uh, sired me… Is that the right term?”

  “If you’re part horse, certainly.”

  “What about part dragon? You are the expert, sir.”

  “I’ll have to consult with Sardelle later. She’s more expertly than I.” Zirkander spread a hand toward him. “Your sire—go on.” He cocked his head, seemingly interested in the direction of the conversation.

  Trip found that promising. “Apparently, Bhrava Saruth could tell by sniffing me who that dragon was. Is. Well, I’m not sure if it’s an is or a was. He didn’t go through the portal with the others a thousand years ago, so Bhrava Saruth didn’t know, either. His name is Agarrenon Shivar. Nobody knows what happened to him, but he was supposed to be very powerful and thus respected by the rest of the dragons. Apparently, you just have to be powerful to be respected in their society, not charismatic, smart, or fair.”

  “I’d like to say that it’s different for humans, but I can’t make that claim.”

  “On the way back, I was thinking that if I could find him and entice him to join us, that he could, at the least, boost our allies by one. But if the rest of the dragons still fear and respect him, maybe he could do even more, like tell them to leave Iskandia alone altogether.”

  “You think he might be amenable to this because you’re a relative?”

  “I’m not sure, sir. I’m inclined to think not, as when I mentioned this idea to Rysha—Lieutenant Ravenwood—she said that dragons don’t have feelings for their offspring and that the ones that mated with humans often mated with all manner of interesting creatures, and it was more about pleasure and, uh, sexual conquest than relationships.” Trip’s cheeks heated. When he’d envisioned beer and fishing with Zirkander, talk of sexual conquests hadn’t been a part of it. “But,” he pressed on, “maybe we could offer him something. Maybe he’s lonely wherever he is.”

  “I’m not sure there’s room in the capital for another dragon temple,” Zirkander said.

  “It was just a thought, sir. Since we do have fewer dragon allies than Cofahre.”

  “Yes, we always seem to have fewer resources than they do.” Zirkander sighed wistfully.

  “I’ll train with Sardelle whenever there’s time, sir. If she’ll have me. Then we can at least have… Well, I’d never dreamed of becoming a sorcerer, but since that fate has come my way, I’d at least like to be less bumbling with my abilities.”

  “She’ll be happy to hear that, though I gather she is daunted by the idea of training you.” Zirkander grinned. “Even in her time, when sorcerers were more powerful than the ones around today, there wasn’t anyone who was the offspring of a dragon.”

  Trip couldn’t imagine anyone being daunted by him, except perhaps pirates going up against him in aeria
l battles.

  “So, are you proposing a mission?” Zirkander asked. “To find your father and try to recruit him?”

  A mission? He hadn’t considered that might be a possibility.

  “I think it could be worthwhile to find him. But I figured it would just be something I could try to do the next time I have some leave. Are captains even allowed to propose missions?”

  “Sure. Whether anyone listens when they do so is debatable, but it might be good for you to do this sooner rather than later.” Zirkander’s face grew grim. “We might not have time later.”

  “I confess, I wouldn’t know where to start looking, sir. My mother was an herbalist and traveled quite a bit, looking for exotic plants useful in tinctures and such. I don’t know which continents she went to. After I was born, she stayed at home with me, but before that, she went all over the world, I understand.” Trip wished he’d had the chance to know his mother as an adult. She’d told him stories when he’d been a boy, but he barely remembered them now, and that saddened him.

  “I imagine Lieutenant Ravenwood could help you research. It’s a good idea to make friends with a smart woman, no matter how powerful you are.”

  “I’ll keep that advice in mind, sir. It does seem sage.”

  “Any thoughts as to who you’d like on a dragon-seeking mission?” Zirkander asked. “I’d want to keep the team small, so we don’t have too many people away from the country. It’s been blessedly quiet this last week—maybe all the dragons were concerned about the portal?—but we can’t count on that continuing. There were two more attacks in the north after your team left.”

  Trip scratched his jaw, surprised he was being asked. Would he be in charge of such a mission? Even though he was technically a captain now, he still felt like a lieutenant.

  He was tempted to throw out Leftie’s name, since he knew what to expect from Leftie, but if he had the opportunity to use magic, he didn’t want to have to stifle it because it might make people uncomfortable. Duck had been fairly unflappable in regard to dragons and magic. He supposed any of the soldiers who’d worked with Sardelle in the past would have a similar viewpoint. The trouble was that he didn’t know who those people were.