05 Dragon Blood: The Blade's Memory (22 page)

“We’ll go with you.”

“Even if it’s a trap, we can’t risk letting the captain die,” Duck said.

So they’d had the same thoughts she’d had.

Jaxi, can you tell if Kaika is still alive?
Between the distance to the castle and the hundreds of soldiers and servants inside it, Sardelle could not pick out individual auras.

She’s still in the dungeon, yes. Alive.

“I was planning to go in alone,” Sardelle said. “I think that might still be best. If there is a trap, or if they’re extra alert after last night’s mess, then it will be easier for me to only have one other person to protect.”

“I don’t need protecting,” Duck said. “I’m quicker and scrappier than a tiger.”

“Which is why you were shot repeatedly last night,” Tolemek said, though he, too, was giving Sardelle the squinty eye, probably disliking the insinuation that
he
needed protecting.

“If I hadn’t been so quick and scrappy, I would have been hit even more times.”

“Uh huh. Sardelle—”

“I know you could be helpful in there, Tolemek, but Ridge has a mission for you.” She hefted the bag of vials, though he probably could not tell what it was in the dark.

“Does he,” Tolemek said, his voice flat. “Does it involve me playing the role of pharmacist again? Or attempting to use the meager contents of his general’s lavatory to make knockout grenades?”

“It’s the dragon blood.” Sardelle held out the bag toward him. “Ridge is hoping you got a good look at what the Cofah were doing with it and could make some similar weapons—or at least a means of defending against their weapons. He wants you to improvise a lab—you can use his mother’s house if you want.” All right, Ridge hadn’t said that, but she felt certain he would agree if it resulted in weapons for defending Iskandia. Whether his mother agreed was another matter, but they could figure out how to tell her later.

Tolemek accepted the bag, but asked, “This needs to be done
tonight
?”

“Started as soon as possible. He assumed it would take you a while to come up with something.”

“A while. Really.”

Another carriage is coming
, Jaxi said.
There are three women in it, and there’s a driver up front.

Three, you say? Is there any way to delay it briefly? Can the driver see the women or are they separated?

Separated. And delays are my specialty.

“I’m going in to get Kaika,” Cas said firmly, then less firmly added, “Do you have a way in? I already sneaked around back, and there are more guards moving around on the rocks than ants.”

It’s going to drive right past you
, Jaxi added.
Fifteen seconds.

“Stay out of sight.” Sardelle waved for the others to press themselves against the wall. “I have a plan.”

“Should we be alarmed?” Tolemek asked.

“I would be,” Cas muttered.

Duck flattened himself against the wall and nodded at her. At least one person had some faith.

“Do you have any more of those lavatory-inspired knockout grenades, Tolemek?” Sardelle asked.

He dipped into a pocket and produced a tea tin with a fuse.

“Get it ready, please.”

Oops,
Jaxi said at the same time as a snap came from the road, followed by the scent of something burning.

Oops?

That road has developed a pothole.
Another snap sounded.
And a second one. A shame.

Before Sardelle could comment, the promised steam carriage rolled into view, the frame and wheels made from wood. It was more ornate than the other vehicle had been, with mountains carved into the body, engravings decorating the smoke stake, and flourishes of gold gilding the passenger door. The driver rode in the front in a cab separated from the carriage by the furnace and boiler, so he would not be able to see his passengers. That helped.

The carriage passed the corner of the building, then lurched as the front wheel dipped into an alarmingly deep hole.

Jaxi
, Sardelle thought as she jogged for the passenger door, waving for Tolemek to follow her.
That’s a crater, not a pothole.

Have you ever heard someone praise me for my subtlety?

Not in any sense of the word.

Exactly.

“Now, Tolemek,” Sardelle whispered, aware of the driver throwing more fuel into the firebox, trying to generate the power to escape the unexpected pit.

A pit. Now you’re just exaggerating.

The carriage was locked, but the mechanism was flimsy, and Sardelle snapped it with her mind. As soon as she opened the door, Tolemek tossed his now-lit grenade inside. Sardelle waved, and the door closed. She jammed the lock on the door on the other side. Inside, smoke spewed from the grenade, and the women jumped to their feet.

Jaxi, I should have asked before, but can you pluck their names from their thoughts? And if there’s a password or something they’re supposed to say to get in? Any details about what they’re planning to do in there would be good also.

That information would have been easier to obtain before they started writhing around and grabbing their necks.

I know. Sorry. Do your best.

“Are these loathed enemies, or are we knocking out random guests visiting for a party?” Tolemek asked.

“I’m only guessing, but I think the queen is meeting with her Heartwood Sisterhood friends tonight.”

“They’re the ones who shut down my lab?”

Inside the carriage, the first woman slumped onto the floor.

“Quite possibly,” Sardelle said.

“Then I shall not regret knocking them out.”

A door slammed. The driver hopped down to examine the stuck wheel. Jaxi had wisely positioned her rut so that it had captured a wheel on the side opposite from Sardelle and the others, but Sardelle scooted back into the shadows, in case the man walked around. A second woman slumped to the floor. The third had a handkerchief pressed to her mouth. She banged at the door. Sardelle cupped the air around the carriage, creating a barrier the sound could not escape. As the grumbling driver climbed back into the cab and grabbed the controls again, the third woman flopped down on one of the seats.

“Time to take their places,” Sardelle whispered. “Duck, Tolemek, I need help removing them.”

She opened the door and grasped one of the unconscious women with her mind, lifting her into the air. The headache that had burgeoned earlier increased in intensity. That was surprising since she hadn’t done that much yet. Perhaps she hadn’t rested enough after healing Duck and experiencing the events in the castle the night before.

“You don’t look like you need help,” Tolemek muttered, but he hopped into the cab and grabbed a second woman.

As he was stepping out with his burden and Duck was climbing in, the vehicle lurched. The driver was trying to escape the pothole again. Sardelle floated her woman into the shadows beside the building and set her down. Now she thanked the rain, because there weren’t many pedestrians walking through the streets. This would create an odd picture for an observer.

Duck and Tolemek deposited their women next to Sardelle’s. With an angry grinding, the carriage finally escaped the pothole. The driver turned hard to try and keep the other wheel from going in. An ominous clank came from under the vehicle.

“Now what?” the driver shouted.

“Same question for me.” Tolemek pointed at the women.

“We need two cloaks,” Sardelle said, already kneeling to remove one.

“Just two?” Duck asked.

“You and Tolemek will have to stay down here to move the women and do something with them to keep them from running up to the castle to explain what happened.”

Without comment, Cas removed the second cloak. The idea of sneaking in with just her—and that sword—at her back did not make Sardelle comfortable, but there was no way Tolemek or Duck would pass as
sisters
of the organization, even with the biggest and fluffiest cloaks.

“Do something with them?” Duck protested. “What?”

“I don’t know. Tie them up somewhere. Or take them to a bar and buy them drinks. Whatever it takes to keep them from reporting the kidnapping. Then Tolemek can start on the lab.”

The driver had climbed out again and was peering under the carriage. With a lurch, Sardelle realized he might see between the wheels to her comrades—and all of the women lying on the ground.

Don’t worry. He sees nothing. But you better hurry and get in. There’s nothing left to keep him from driving off.

Sardelle exchanged her cloak for the new one, a fur-trimmed, dark green garment. She waited until the driver climbed into the cab again, then hopped into the carriage. Cas jumped in after her, nearly banging the hilt of that big sword into Sardelle’s shoulder.

As Sardelle closed the door, Tolemek and Duck watched with conflicted expressions. Neither appeared happy to be left behind, but at the last moment, Duck waved and made the thumb-to-fingers circle that signified ready among the pilots.

The carriage rolled into motion, this time without clunks or clanks. Sardelle sat in one of the seats, crinkling her nose at the lingering scent of Tolemek’s knockout grenade. Though they were moving along at a brisk pace now, she risked opening the door to toss out the tea tin. The driver might find it suspicious if he looked inside later, and she also did not want to pass out herself before reaching the gate.

No, but that is an amusing image, you delivering yourself to the queen’s guards without a fight. And returning her missing sword too.

It’s Therrik’s sword, not hers. But speaking of Kasandral, how are we supposed to explain it? Or hide it? It’s bigger than Cas is. If one of the guard’s looks into the interior…

Maybe you should have thought of that before inviting Armed, Short, and Cranky there along.

Sardelle slumped back in the seat and wondered if she had been delusional to think this could work.

• • • • •

“Here you go, sir.” The private passed a stick of charcoal through the bars, then surprised Ridge by pushing a corked stoneware bottle through, as well. It clunked against the iron and barely fit, but Ridge soon found himself holding a beer from Bragging Buck Brewing downtown.

“Thank you, ah, Gormen, was it?”

The private smiled and saluted—it was the fourth time he had saluted Ridge since General Arstonhamer had personally deposited him in this cell an hour earlier. Since nobody else was giving him adoring looks here, especially not anyone with any rank, Ridge accepted the private’s adulation with more appreciation than usual. Glory was fleeting—hadn’t some old, long-dead general said that? Croxton, he thought. The man had also said a hero’s reputation survives only as long as his latest great deed. Ridge probably would have gotten along well with that fellow.

“You won’t get in trouble for this, will you?” Ridge tapped the bottle with his fingernail before unfastening the wire securing the cork. The last time he’d had a drink had been with his dad in that wretched pirate slum. It had been a poor brew, and the company hadn’t been as pleasant as he’d hoped, either, with his father absorbed in his work. As always. Mom probably found the cats better company even when Dad
was
home.

“I’m not allowed to drink on duty, sir. I don’t think the regs mention anything about prisoners drinking on duty.”

Ridge reached through the bars and patted the private on the shoulder. The young man grinned, apparently never thinking that his legendary prisoner might grab him or try to steal the keys from his belt. Well, Ridge would not do anything to make the kid regret his generosity. Where would he run, anyway? True, he was worried about Sardelle—especially since she had warned him of her intention to return to the castle—but this was his world. He had to find a way to clear his name. Escaping and fleeing would mean he could never come home again. Besides, he still had a lingering hope that he might take the blame for Kaika’s actions and get her out of that dungeon.

“What’s the charcoal for, sir?”

Ridge took a swig of the beer—Breyatah love the kid, it was even chilled—then set it on the floor. “I got a clue about the king’s whereabouts.”

“
Really?
” Gormen gripped the bars, his eyes gleaming with eagerness. Eagerness and trust. If he had heard why Ridge had been arrested, it did not seem to have tarnished his opinion yet.

“Thank Fate for small miracles,” he murmured, then raised his voice. “Near a lighthouse. That’s all I know, but I’ve flown up and down the western coast and the northern fjords thousands of times, and I’ve circumnavigated the entire continent more than a hundred. I ought to know every lighthouse we’ve got out there.” Flipping the charcoal in his hand, Ridge walked to the back wall of the cell. The whitewashed cinder block should work well for his needs—not as well as being out there, checking out spots with his flier, but he might figure out exactly where to go once he did find a way out of here. He refused to believe he
wouldn’t
find a way out. “There are well over a hundred though, so I’m hoping that making a map will help me remember all the possibilities and mull over which ones might be turned into suitable prisons.”

“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.