Revelations

  Blazer snorted.

  Rysha muttered something under her breath. One of those command words for the sword. Then she was able to unfasten the buckle.

  “Thanks for the advice, ma’am,” Rysha told Kaika. “There’s a reason I’ve decided to consider you as my mentor.”

  “Because I’m so worldly and well-versed in belt buckles?” Kaika grinned. “I have undone a lot of them.”

  “As the boys in the barracks will attest,” Blazer said.

  Rysha handed the sword to Kaika, though not without a hitch in the movement, as if the sword truly did not want to leave her grasp.

  Will you fight me like that if I try to let you go, Jaxi?

  I suppose it depends on who you’re trying to hand me to. A worldly belt expert? Or a dragon to be melted down for scrap?

  “I’m ready.” Rysha nodded at Trip.

  Let’s hope Dorfie doesn’t punish her later for letting some tainted sword touch her mind, Jaxi grumbled.

  Punish? Trip hoped that wasn’t possible.

  Rysha’s eyes widened, and her mouth parted. In wonder? Worry? He doubted Jaxi had communicated with her often.

  “I insist,” came loud, firm words from the alcove where the Cofah were conversing. It sounded like the sorceress.

  The voices dropped again after that. Trip thought about trying to eavesdrop—Jaxi had implied he might have that ability. But Rysha frowned and shook her head, drawing his attention back to her.

  “It’s Cytrikic,” she said. “I recognize it, but I can’t read it. It’s a province on an island chain to the northeast of the Cofah mainland. The inhabitants were conquered fairly late in imperial history, and their remoteness has resulted in them being given more lenience in regard to adopting Cofah culture. They speak the language and observe the holidays, but they’ve kept their own language too. Children learn both when they’re growing up.”

  “Is one of the scientists from there?” Trip guessed.

  “Whoever was keeping the journal, it would seem.”

  It was in the sorceress’s pocket, Jaxi said.

  You mean, she’s a scholar? One of the researchers? And isn’t just here to sense dragons and use her powers?

  That may be the case. That might also explain her ability. There aren’t many legitimate sorcerers left in Cofahre, much like in Iskandia, but Cytrik, I believe, wasn’t a part of the empire yet during their purge of those with dragon blood. Sardelle would know more, but it seems likely they could still have a tradition of finding and training sorcerers.

  “Is there any way that Jaxi can simply pluck the information from the researcher’s mind?” Kaika asked. “If we can figure out which one of them was keeping that journal?”

  “We already know which one,” Trip said. “And I’m guessing she’ll prove pluck-resistant.”

  Rysha sighed. “The sorceress?”

  Trip nodded.

  “I saw the ink marks on her fingers and thought it might be her. Even if she doesn’t exactly look like an academic.”

  “What does an academic look like?” Kaika smirked, plucking at Rysha’s army parka sleeve.

  Rysha smiled ruefully. “Someone with bad eyesight from poring over texts, I should think.”

  “Maybe a sorceress can heal her own vision if it goes bad.”

  Rysha’s smile went from rueful to wistful. “That would certainly be nice.”

  Trip wondered if he could ever learn to do something like that. Healing someone’s vision? That would be even better than building a gun mount for someone. For Rysha.

  “So, what I’m hearing,” Blazer said, “is that the witch knows where the portal is, so we have to work with these people. Unless we want them to potentially beat us to it.”

  Rysha nodded and accepted her sword belt back from Kaika. “Assuming they’re willing to work with us.”

  Blazer pointed at Trip’s hand—he was still holding the valve control. “Is that truly a critical component to their ship, or is it the handle off a lavatory door or something?”

  “Critical component,” he said.

  “Huh. That was quite clever of you to take it then.”

  Trip thought about again mentioning that he’d simply removed it to repair it, but if his commanding officer wanted to list in her mission report that he’d been “clever,” that couldn’t hurt. Maybe General Zirkander would send him on more important missions if he proved himself valuable here.

  Assuming you survive this one, Jaxi said.

  You don’t think the odds are in my favor?

  Do you really want me to answer that? Given that half your team is carrying weapons that long to decapitate you?

  Perhaps not.

  6

  Rysha was disappointed that she hadn’t been able to read the notes Jaxi had shown her. Only her second telepathic encounter with a magical soulblade, and she’d been forced to admit her ignorance—and hear Jaxi sigh into her mind.

  If those notes had been written in Middle or Old Iskandian or Ancient Cofah, or even Dragon Script, she could have read them, but modern languages? She’d never been particularly interested in them, and she was lucky she had even recognized the Cytrikic script. If there were more than ten thousand speakers in the entire world, she would be shocked. It was dumb luck that the researcher was from those islands.

  As if her thoughts had drawn the woman, the sorceress strode out of the alcove, leading the two soldiers and the rest of the team. Jylea walked at her side. Rysha suspected Jylea was the mission leader, but she also suspected the sorceress—had that woman shared her name yet?—had a lot of sway over the group.

  “We agree to join forces with your group,” Jylea said, “if three conditions are met.”

  “I’ll bet,” Kaika muttered from behind Rysha.

  Blazer moved to the front of their group, facing the Cofah and propping her fists on her hips. Earlier, she’d seemed willing to let Rysha take the lead in the negotiations, but maybe she sensed these “conditions” would have a military or security aspect rather than an academic one.

  “First off,” Jylea said, “your mage agrees to fix and return that part, as well as—”

  “Our what?” Blazer asked.

  Jylea’s forehead furrowed, and she pointed to Trip. In his military uniform and parka, with his pilot’s cap on, along with his scarf stained with engine grease from his flier, he hardly looked like a mage.

  “Oh, our mage,” Blazer said. “Right. Go on.”

  Jylea’s furrow didn’t smooth, and she looked at the woman at her side. The sorceress lifted her shoulders and said, “We can discuss him further later.”

  Rysha watched Trip for a reaction, but he was wearing a mask today, and she couldn’t read him. He’d seemed indifferent to the sorceress’s posturing in the alcove, and with two soulblades at his waist, Rysha hadn’t been sure he’d needed her intervention. But she’d reacted on instinct, feeling the urge to protect him, if she could. Maybe he hadn’t thought it through yet, but since the second soulblade he carried was Cofah, it was extremely possible it could turn on him eventually. It might be biding its time to do so in a way that would bring glory to the empire.

  “As I was saying,” Jylea continued, facing Blazer again, “he will repair that part and lead repairs on the rest of the airship, ensuring that it’s in as pristine a condition as possible.”

  The sorceress smiled and watched Trip, as if she thought this was some punishment he would find repulsive. Hardly. He was probably even now thinking about upgrades he could give the ship.

  “Once that’s been accomplished, you’ll load your fliers onto the airship, and we’ll all fly together on that vessel toward the site we believe holds the portal.”

  “How’d she know we have fliers?” Duck whispered.

  “You’re wearing your goggles around your neck, and there’s a Wolf Squadron pin on your parka,” Trip pointed out.

  “For all they know, that’s a new fashion trend in Iskandia.”

  “You don’t look like
a fashion maven.”

  Duck’s forehead creased, as if he couldn’t imagine this lack within himself.

  “Is that all part of the first stipulation?” Blazer asked dryly, ignoring the men.

  “Yes.”

  “It figures.”

  Jylea’s eyes narrowed. “We don’t need you people. You’re blackmailing us.”

  “Are you sure you won’t need help destroying the portal?” Rysha touched Dorfindral’s hilt.

  “We will not,” the sorceress said coolly.

  Thinking of the Dakrovian book she’d found, Rysha wondered if they had figured out another way to destroy it. Or thought they had. It was also possible they didn’t intend to destroy it at all. That thought had crossed her mind a few times during her conversation with Jylea, but it was hard for her to imagine why else they would be looking for it.

  It wasn’t as if they could set up a recruiting booth next to the portal and try to coerce each dragon that came out to align with the Cofah Empire. More likely, they and the booth would be incinerated by the first cranky gold to come out.

  Though Rysha knew some dragons had worked with humans once, and Iskandia had a couple of allies from a past era, she hadn’t seen much evidence that the ones coming into the world now were amenable to that. Maybe that era had passed. Or maybe those dragons that remembered humans as something other than prey had died off. That thought saddened her. As a girl, she’d read many of those novels with dragons in them, dragons who helped humans or even fell in love with them. They were part of the reason she’d gone into studying the field. The dragons she’d encountered thus far had been… disappointing, at least to her childhood memories. As an adult, she told herself that this was probably how it had always been, that even when some of the dragons of old had allied with humans, they had been using them to their own ends. People wouldn’t have wanted to think of it that way, of course. History books, after all, were always written with the biases of the one doing the recording.

  “The second condition,” Jylea said, “is that I remain the leader of the mission. You’ll defer to me or to my co-leader, Kiadarsa.” She tilted a hand toward the sorceress. “When the portal is ultimately destroyed, our people will receive credit for it.”

  Logically, Rysha knew it was more important for the portal to be destroyed than for anyone to receive credit for it, but she wasn’t surprised when Blazer looked at the ceiling of the cave and shook her head, as if these demands were slowly torturing her to death.

  “Third,” Jylea said, “your mage will return that stolen soulblade to its rightful people.” She gestured again to the sorceress—Kiadarsa.

  “It’s egregious, bordering on blasphemous, for an Iskandian to carry it around so,” Kiadarsa added, glowering at Trip. “Assuming that’s what you are.”

  Trip’s eyebrows lifted, but he didn’t reply to the snide comment. Rysha supposed that was a dig at his skin color. He wasn’t as dark-skinned as the Cofah, and none of the ones in the group shared his green eyes. It was true that he did not look very Iskandian, but now that Rysha considered him alongside the Cofah, she doubted that had been his father’s heritage, either.

  “What do you think?” Blazer muttered over her shoulder to Kaika. “We haven’t even tried on our own to find it. It’s early to assume we need these people and to give in to their demands.”

  If Rysha hadn’t seen the researchers’ big map, and learned that the Cofah had already investigated and dismissed the spot she and Sardelle had considered most likely, she would agree. There was no reason to suspect the Cofah had marked up their map with lies, anticipating Iskandian spies would come along and read it. She was inclined to believe it accurate.

  “I’ll defer to Lieutenant Ravenwood in this,” Kaika said.

  Blazer lifted her eyebrows.

  “It doesn’t matter who destroys it or who gets credit,” Rysha said, “just that it’s destroyed. And if Trip is willing to give up the soulblade, it might be better for us that a sentient Cofah weapon isn’t traveling with us.” She hadn’t pointed out that the sword could be, even now, spying on them and reporting to someone else—this Kiadarsa, perhaps—but maybe she should.

  “It’s actually yours to give up or keep.” Trip nodded to Rysha. “Inasmuch as the soulblade will allow. You killed the pirate sorceress.”

  Both Jylea’s and Kiadarsa’s eyebrows rose. Rysha decided to take that as surprise that a pirate had carried a soulblade rather than shock that she had defeated one.

  “Then I say it should go back to the Cofah,” Rysha said. “If that’s what it wants.” She felt compelled to add that last because they were essentially dealing with a person, if all the legends were to be believed. And now that Jaxi had spoken, however briefly, into her mind, she had no reason not to believe them.

  Kiadarsa looked toward the cave mouth, her eyes taking on a distant aspect. “The dragon has flown away. We should be able to return to the outpost.”

  “Good,” Jylea said. “Our new mechanic can fix our ship. As soon as you two finish your deal.” She waved toward the Cofah soulblade.

  Unlike Jaxi, who had a scabbard that hooked to Trip’s belt, the Cofah blade’s scabbard was thrust awkwardly through his belt on the opposite hip. Trip pulled it out without hesitating and held it toward the sorceress, hilt first.

  Her eyes gleamed as she strode toward it. Rysha wagered she hoped to claim it for herself rather than take it home for “its rightful people.”

  She grabbed the hilt, but jerked her hand back immediately with a pained gasp. She gripped it, as if she’d been burned.

  “You,” she snarled at Trip, giving him a murderous look. “You pretend to give it to me, then attack?”

  Trip opened his mouth, an obvious protest about to come out, but she flung her hand toward him as if to hurl some attack at him.

  Belatedly, Rysha yanked Dorfindral from its scabbard and ran over. But she paused. Nothing seemed to be happening.

  Trip lowered his arm, the scabbard still in hand, and he gazed at the woman, as if she were doing nothing but standing there in tableau, some child pretending she had the ability to fling magic around.

  We’ve got this handled, Jaxi spoke into her mind, startling Rysha. We’d appreciate it if you didn’t zap our defenses with Dorfie again.

  Rysha stared at Jaxi’s hilt. Again? Did that mean when she’d thought she had been protecting Trip, she’d gotten in the way? Chagrined, she lowered her sword and backed up.

  Don’t worry, Jaxi said cheerfully. Trip found it sexy.

  What? He said that?

  He thought it.

  Does he know you’re talking to me and sharing his thoughts?

  No, but soulblades speak with whom they wish. And sometimes, sharing romantic thoughts can hasten things along. You humans are so bad about speaking honestly about your feelings and desires with each other. Though perhaps I shouldn’t encourage you to engage in romance and rutting, given the tastes—or distastes—of your newfound green-glowing friend.

  “I didn’t do it,” Trip said. “I assure you.”

  “As if your assurance means anything,” Kiadarsa said. “Who are you, anyway? Another spy?”

  Jylea looked sharply at her. “You suspect that?”

  “I’m suspicious of everything after our incident.”

  Trip looked as confused as Rysha felt. Spy?

  “I’m Captain Trip.” He shrugged. “Wolf Squadron, Iskandian flier battalion.”

  Jylea looked at Kiadarsa again.

  “I don’t know. It seems unlikely. The Iskandians hate magic even more than the Cofah do. Most Cofah.” Kiadarsa smiled for the first time, though it was directed at Jylea and not anyone else.

  “Set the blade down and back away from it,” Kiadarsa told Trip. “I want to try one more time, though I suppose you’d have no trouble stopping me from the other side of the cave, if you wanted.”

  Trip set the scabbard on the gritty ice at his feet and backed away. “I’ve been told that soulblades can’t
be taken against their will.” He shrugged. “Maybe he’s hitching a ride with me until somebody better comes along.”

  “Maybe he’s holding out for a dragon,” Duck said.

  “Dragons don’t need swords.” Kiadarsa looked at him as if he were an uneducated toddler. “The dragon riders of old carried soulblades into battle, and sometimes even the chapaharii weapons, but the dragons certainly didn’t need them.”

  “Today’s dragons don’t seem to believe they need riders, either,” Jylea said.

  “No.” A wistful expression crossed Kiadarsa’s face.

  For the first time, she seemed more a human being than a donkey’s ass. Or maybe Rysha could simply identify with that wistfulness since she’d been having similar thoughts earlier.

  “Try again, Kia,” Jylea said. “Maybe it was him and not the sword.”

  “If it’s useful to know, it also did not allow me to touch it,” Dreyak said.

  He stood to the side, between both groups. He hadn’t said anything, but he’d been watching the negotiations, such as they were, with interest.

  “That’s to be expected,” Kiadarsa said. “You’ve had little training, Mr. Dreyak.”

  Dreyak lifted his chin. “I’ve had some.”

  She raised her eyebrows.

  He lowered his chin and snorted softly. “Little compared to you. I concede.”

  Rysha found it interesting that Dreyak seemed to know these people and vice versa. Perhaps not know, but know of? She’d caught a slip in the way Jylea had first addressed him and wondered if he might be a little more than some Cofah army officer of noble blood.

  Keeping a wary eye on Trip, Kiadarsa walked toward the soulblade again. She crouched and reached for it, but this time she paused without touching it. Her hand hovered above it, unmoving, for several seconds.

  “I see,” she said, and withdrew her hand.

  She frowned at the blade, but did not try to touch it again.

  “Did he speak to you?” Trip asked curiously.

  Kiadarsa squinted at him, and Rysha didn’t expect her to answer.

  Surprisingly, she admitted, “Only to say that he is not for me.”