“Oh, that’s very clever, sir.”
Ridge kept his derisive snort to himself. He hadn’t done anything clever all week.
“Maybe I can find an atlas around here to help,” Gormen suggested.
“That would definitely be helpful, but don’t get in trouble requisitioning more supplies for me, please.”
“I’ll say I’m developing an interest in geology.” The private winked and left before Ridge could point out that his interest should probably be in geography.
Not certain the kid would find that atlas, Ridge did his best to draw a giant outline of the continent with the charcoal stick. It had the right general shape, a blob with the Tasagon Handle and Islands extending from the southeast corner, but more subtle details were difficult. It didn’t help that the sun had gone down, and the cellblock was dimly lit. Still, he assiduously marked down dots where he remembered lighthouses, pausing to picture each one in his mind and assess whether it might work as a prison. Many were near cities and towns and probably would not be chosen by kidnappers. Plenty of others were remote, perched along stark, rugged landscapes, and a handful of them were only accessible by ship or flier. Those were the ones Ridge considered extremely likely possibilities. The water would be an extra deterrent for escape if the king managed to subdue a guard.
He found himself tapping on one particular lighthouse location about a hundred miles north of the city, in the middle of Fury’s Cauldron. He pictured the tiny, craggy island it perched upon. If his memory was being faithful, it would be a five-mile swim to the shore, through a maze of coral filled with jellyfish and reef sharks. If he were in charge of a prisoner, he would consider that a good place to deposit someone he wanted the world to forget about.
Ridge circled a couple more possible spots, then stuffed the charcoal in his pocket and started pacing. If he had access to his flier, he could go check those lighthouses right now. Why had he let himself be captured? If he had thought of this earlier, he might have gauged it worth the consequences to ensure he stayed free a little longer. Besides, if he came back with the king sitting behind him in his flier, he might not have to worry so much about consequences. He couldn’t count on anything, but it seemed a better bet than sitting in a jail cell.
A door squeaked open, and clanks and grumbles drifted down the corridor. Ridge pushed the beer bottle on the floor into the back corner and stepped in front of it, so nobody would notice and have harsh words for the private.
Gormen and two people Ridge had no interest in seeing came into view, turning to face him through the bars. Colonel Porthlok from the intelligence battalion and Captain Heriton, the officer who had been Ridge’s assistant back in the Magroth Crystal Mines, the officer who had been suspicious of Sardelle from the start and who had dug up proof that she was a sorcerer.
Ridge forced a smile. “Hullo, Heriton. I didn’t think they were letting you off that frozen mountain until summer.”
“Colonel Zirkander,” Heriton said politely. “I was called down to act as a witness in an investigation. I’m enjoying the rain.”
An investigation about Sardelle, no doubt.
“Either of you fellows mind telling me why I’m being held?” Ridge asked. He did not want to discuss Sardelle. “The MPs failed to mention it. I would like to return to duty and bring our fliers back home, so we’ll be ready when the Cofah come.”
“When they come, sir?” Heriton frowned.
“They’ve been working on new weapons, and I’m guessing they’ll be ready to share them with us soon.”
Colonel Porthlok held up a hand. “You’re being held because your witch sneaked into the castle yesterday and tried to attack the queen.”
Since Ridge had seen the events in Sardelle’s mind, he knew she had tried no such thing.
“Why don’t you tell us where she is now? If you have any advice on how to apprehend her, your punishment here might be more lenient.”
“I don’t know any witches.” Ridge leaned his shoulder against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “And what crime am I being accused of? I assume there must be a crime, because punishment wouldn’t be discussed if there wasn’t one, right?”
“For starters, you’ve been AWOL for three weeks,” Porthlok said, and when Ridge opened his mouth to protest, he added, “I’m aware of the details of the mission that King Angulus assigned to Colonel Therrik—and what your small role in it was supposed to be. I’m also aware that you dropped Therrik out of your flier and took command of the mission when you had no orders—no right—to do so.”
Ugh, someone who had all of the details. “I judged Therrik unbalanced and incapable of leading that mission,” Ridge said.
“It wasn’t within your rights as an officer to do so. You’ve been judged maliciously insubordinate by your superiors, in addition to being AWOL.” Porthlok threaded his fingers together and rested his hands on his slightly pudgy abdomen. “Perhaps, if you were to verify that the witch was controlling you through some mind-manipulation technique, your punishment might not be as severe. Supposing you also helped us find her.”
“Sardelle Terushan,” Captain Heriton offered. “That’s her name, sir.”
“I read the report,” Porthlok snapped. “Her name is insignificant.”
Ridge glared at the men. Her name was very significant. And so was she.
“Nothing to say, Colonel?” Porthlok asked.
“I don’t know where she is.” Not exactly, anyway. “But let me offer you something else. I’ve received some intel and believe I can narrow down the places the king might be to about five spots. Let me take a flier out and look for him. If you don’t trust me, send someone along to watch me.”
“Is this intel from your witch?”
Not exactly, Ridge thought again. “No, it’s from Therrik. You’ll have to talk to him yourself if you want the answer as to why he knows something about the king’s disappearance.”
Ridge expected Porthlok to scoff, but he clasped his hands behind his back and gazed thoughtfully into the cell instead. “Did you truly beat him in a fight? I wouldn’t have expected that from a pilot, or anyone who isn’t as combat crazy as he is.”
Beat him in a fight? Therrik? Ridge managed to keep the surprise off his face, but barely. “Did you speak to him?”
“Before coming to talk to you, yes.”
“And he admitted that?”
“Reluctantly, he did.”
Why would Therrik lie about something like that? Surely, he would feel emasculated if Ridge beat him in a confrontation. Ridge would love to emasculate him, but without Sardelle restraining him in the office, he doubted he would have had a chance. Maybe Therrik hadn’t wanted to admit that a “witch” had bested him. Or maybe he didn’t remember that a witch had bested him. Had Sardelle done something to tinker with his memory? Or had Jaxi? Sardelle had said something about adjusting Therrik’s thoughts. Ridge supposed he couldn’t be upset, but he did find it discomfiting to think that might be a possibility for her. He trusted her, but it was chilling to realize that someone might have the power to tinker with his thoughts, to make him remember a different reality from the one that had happened.
Porthlok’s gaze shifted to the charcoal map on the wall. “If you believe you know where King Angulus has been taken, tell me, and I’ll send a team.”
“There aren’t any flier pilots around.”
“And a flier is required to get there?” Porthlok asked.
Ridge closed his eyes. As an officer sworn to the king, he was obligated to help his liege, no matter what the situation. To withhold the information wasn’t acceptable. And yet… if he wasn’t the one to pick up the king, how was he going to find time to plead his story, to hope for the king’s lenience? Not only that, but how was he ever going to get himself out of this cell?
“Your recalcitrance tonight is noted,” Porthlok said stiffly.
“Oh, I’m sure it is.”
“We will find your witch. If she’s a threat to th
e queen—”
“She’s not.” Ridge couldn’t keep himself from growling his words. “Show me who she’s killed, Colonel. No, show me who in Iskandia she’s even hurt? She’s a healer, not a … whatever it is you think she is. Just this morning, she saved the life of one of my men.”
“One of your AWOL men?”
“He’ll report in as soon as he recovers fully. From being shot by some of the queen’s new buddies.”
Porthlok’s eyes closed to slits. “Do you actually know anything? Or are you trying to divert me with lies? I wonder if HQ would mind terribly if I interrogated you.”
Ridge did not let any unease show on his face, even though he was sure the intelligence department’s method of interrogation was a lot more violent than Sardelle’s. “Here’s a thought. Treat me like a human being, put me back on the duty roster, and I’d happily share all the shreds of intel I’ve managed to gather.”
“You’ll share it, Zirkander. Trust me, you’ll share it.” Porthlok strode out.
Heriton had been studying the map, but hurried after Porthlok, perhaps not wanting to be left alone with the deranged witch lover.
“Was it worth it, Heriton?” Ridge asked before the captain disappeared from sight.
“Sir?”
“Betraying the woman who saved the entire mining complex from that shaman so you could get a less frigid posting.”
Heriton opened his mouth, but clamped it shut again, shook his head, and marched out.
Ridge turned, leaning his back against the bars, and considered his map again. He was also considering that he had made a mistake in letting the MPs collect him. He wondered what the odds of escaping would be without Sardelle’s help.
Chapter 10
Sardelle would have preferred not to talk to Cas, since she was emanating displeasure as she stared out the window, but the drive up to the castle was not that long. Already, the old stone structure loomed above them. They needed to solidify their plans. First, she reached behind them with her senses, to make sure the women hadn’t woken up and escaped Tolemek and Duck. It would be hard to get in if three escaped captives were running up the street after them and screaming.
Fortunately, Duck, Tolemek, and the women had already disappeared.
“I hope Duck knows I wasn’t truly suggesting he take those women to a pub,” Sardelle said. “I suspect there would be much yelling and flailing.”
“I’ve heard most of Duck’s dates go like that. It should be a familiar run for him.”
Sardelle hoped that was a joke. Cas had a reserved and dry sense of humor under any circumstances, and she hadn’t even exhibited that since picking up the sword. Maybe this was a sign that she had found a way to deal with its influence. Now that she was aware that it could affect her, she would doubtlessly be more alert of the fact.
“We better put up our hoods,” Sardelle said. “I have the password. If they ask, your name is Martna Spranken, and your family owns vineyards in the southern hills.”
Cas’s expression grew dubious. It could have been because she doubted the information or because she was uncomfortable thinking about how Sardelle had come by it.
Yes, you’re welcome for that intel. You remember the name of your girl?
Sai Forgolen, her cousin.
It’s too bad you didn’t bring Tolemek. It would have been amusing to see him impersonating the third cousin, the chubby one with all of the jewelry.
“Halt,” came a distant call from ahead of the carriage, and Sardelle did not reply.
“Cas, can you tuck the sword under your seat cushion?” Sardelle asked. “If it will fit?”
Cas stared back at her.
“In case the guards look in on us. In fact, I’m certain they will.” Sardelle knew Cas had a pistol and dagger under her cloak, too, but those might be missed unless the guards searched them.
“They won’t see it,” Cas said, an odd, almost distant note to her voice. She tugged her hood over her head. “Just as they won’t see yours.”
“Uhm.” Jaxi, we’re positive Kasandral isn’t an intelligent being and doesn’t communicate with her, right?
I’m positive he isn’t intelligent. I’m not positive that there isn’t some kind of communication going on. He does a fine job of glaring at me across the astral plane.
Not heartened by the answer, Sardelle might have asked more of both of them, but the carriage halted. The door opened, the flickering light of lanterns brightening the cabin. Sardelle wiped her damp hands on her cloak and braced herself to create an illusion if necessary. As Ridge had pointed out more than once, she was not an accomplished liar.
“Names,” a guard with a clipboard asked, peering inside.
“Sai Forgolen and Martna Spranken,” Cas said, sounding bored. Maybe she had more experience with lies. Or was calmer because she didn’t mind shooting people who saw through her lies.
“Our cousin got sick and couldn’t make it,” Sardelle added, though she probably shouldn’t have. The guard hadn’t asked.
You are bad at this, Jaxi observed.
Hush.
The guard frowned at Sardelle. “Remove your hood, please, ma’am.”
Sardelle hadn’t had a good look at the girl she was replacing but did her best to create an illusion of her face atop her own. Fortunately, only one guard stood in the doorway, looking in. She only needed to fool him. She just hoped he hadn’t seen the girl before, or at least did not remember her well if he had.
She pushed back her hood and held her breath.
A few seconds dribbled past as he gazed at her. Far too many, she worried. She didn’t sense any dragon blood about him, not like that guard from the tower, but it was possible her illusion wasn’t good enough, that she—
“And you,” the guard said, facing Cas.
Sardelle rushed to create a second illusion as Cas reached for her hood. So far, the guard hadn’t said anything about the sword lying across the seat behind her. Was it possible he didn’t see it? As Cas had suggested? At least Kasandral’s sheath was keeping that pale green glow from oozing out tonight.
“You’re clear,” the guard said, stepping back. He waved them toward the wicket gate. “Fronzo is waiting inside. He’ll show you to the meeting room.”
Sardelle wanted to go to the dungeon, not the meeting room, especially if the queen was waiting in that meeting room, but they could figure that out once they were in. She pulled her hood over her head and hopped out. Cas followed her, that sword slung across her back again.
Sardelle walked briskly through the gate, not wanting to risk someone noticing and stopping them. She almost crashed into a mouse-faced man with spectacles.
“Fronzo,” she blurted, hoping she was correct.
He tilted his head and peered down at her. “Madam Spranken?” he asked uncertainly.
Damn, had he seen her before? That was the name she had given Cas, but if Fronzo thought she sounded more like this Spranken woman, Sardelle would go with that.
“Yes,” she said, working the illusion again in case the hood hid less than she wanted it to. “And my cousin,” she added.
Fronzo hesitated, and Sardelle surveyed the courtyard, hurrying to formulate a plan of action in case this all went awry right here. Numerous soldiers patrolled the walls, but plenty were posted around the yard and in front of the doors to the towers and main building. This would not be a good place to be discovered.
I convinced him you’re her, Jaxi thought at the same time as the man said, “This way,” and turned toward the main building.
Thank you, Sardelle replied, though she winced anew at the idea of tinkering with people’s thoughts. She wondered how those guards stationed all over weren’t noticing Cas’s sword.
He’s bending the light around him, the same way I do to keep from being noticed. Not as strong as an illusion, but it fools most eyes. Yours are an exception.
Again, I’m concerned that this sword is smarter than I thought.
Probably smart
enough to object to your plan to stick him in his box and throw him to the bottom of the harbor.
We’ll worry about that later. How do we get to this dungeon, Jaxi? Assuming we can get away from our escort here.
“Fronzo, I need to use the lavatory on the way, please,” Sardelle said, hoping she didn’t risk raising his suspicions.
He sighed. “Of course you do.”
Is that suspicion? Sardelle couldn’t decipher his tone.
No, I think all of the women ask to use it, and he’s not surprised at all. If he’s annoyed, it’s because he has this duty tonight.
Oh, good. Their escort wasn’t suspicious; he was annoyed.
Fronzo led them past the stony-faced guards standing like posts on either side of the double doors leading to the interior. He turned left immediately and chose one of several corridors leading away from the large foyer, then jerked a thumb toward a short, dead-end hallway. Unfortunately, Sardelle did not see any promising stairways leading to subterranean levels, just an open door to a tiny room brightened by a candle.
“You can go first,” Sardelle told Cas.
Cas twitched an eyebrow but walked into the room.
How do we get to the dungeon from here, Jaxi?
I’m looking. I thought I had it earlier, but realized the door I found leads to a different dungeon that’s only near the dungeon where Captain Kaika is being kept. There are pamphlets in a holder on the wall. I think they take school children to this one for tours.
Lovely. Maybe there’s a secret door from that one to the other one? You said they’re close?
Yes, and I’m looking for that. You may need to bring the bloodhound down here to sniff it out.
The “bloodhound” exited the little room less than a minute after she had walked in. What kind of woman didn’t know how to spend at least ten minutes in the lavatory?