6.0 - Raptor (24 page)

“But I like her.” Tylie smiled.

You like too easily.

“You don’t like easily enough. And you’re grouchy.”

Sardelle almost coughed at Tylie’s fearless criticism of the dragon. She wasn’t one to fawn herself, but everything she’d read about dragons suggested that tact and diplomacy were wise when dealing with them.

Phelistoth glared down at Tylie. Most people would have wilted under that glare, but Tylie pointed at Sardelle and kept talking.

“Please heal the people, so we can go look for a soulblade. Then I won’t be defenseless when we fly together. And Jaxi can have someone to play with!” Tylie seemed delighted at that last idea.

Soulblades do not play
, Jaxi said, possibly speaking to all of them, because Tylie grinned.

“Everybody should play and have fun,” she said.

“Good advice,” Sardelle said. She wished she could think of playing and having fun, but the soldier’s suicide was too fresh in her mind. “I’m going to finish here. If you decide to help, Phelistoth, I can tell you what to do.”

His nostrils flared.
I do not need to be
told
what to do.

You know, he’s not any more charming than the gold dragon,
Jaxi said.

He hasn’t burned anything down or incinerated any of our furniture
, Sardelle responded.
I find a degree of charm in that.

You’re almost as easy to please as Tylie.

I will heal these humans, and then I will lead the search for a soulblade
, Phelistoth announced.
A
Cofah
soulblade.

“Ah, this was a Referatu stronghold,” Sardelle said. “Only Iskandians lived and worked here.”

That does not mean your people never stole soulblades from the Cofah. You even have stolen dragon artifacts down there, among all of your buried junk.

“We—what?” Now that she thought about it, Sardelle could believe her people might have brought captured Cofah soulblades home from missions, but his certainty that there were dragon artifacts startled her. She had never heard anything about that.

You heard me. Come. I will show you, and we will find Tylie a worthy blade.
His amber eyes narrowed.
A Cofah blade.

Though intrigued to learn there might be artifacts related to dragons in the rubble down there, Sardelle grimaced at this new twist. An Iskandian blade with a loyal Iskandian soul inside might have helped convince Tylie to become a permanent resident of the country. A
Cofah
soul might work very hard to convince her to do the opposite.

Phelistoth never smiled, but he was smiling slightly now as he met her eyes, like the fox that had just outsmarted its prey.

“The healing?” she asked, thinking she might delay him. Not that a delay would help much. Unless the other dragon came back to attack the outpost, she couldn’t justify not going down into the tunnels to look for soulblades, not when that had been their main reason for coming here.

Yes.
Phelistoth held out a hand, palm down, fingers spread. Yellow light gathered around it, growing so intense that Sardelle had to look away.

The presence of powerful magic filled the building, muffling her senses, so she couldn’t tell what was happening. The light surged, growing and filling every nook of the machine shop. Someone gasped. Someone else groaned. Several of her patients sighed with what sounded like relief.

After less than a minute, the light faded. Phelistoth lowered his hand.

Sardelle looked out over the patients. Most remained sleeping, but a few eyes had opened. She could feel the absence of pain in those who were awake. Though she still struggled to use her mental senses with Phelistoth’s overpowering presence so close, she saw that some people had been affected by an energy that had changed their auras, at least temporarily. To her mind’s eye, they glowed the same way those with dragon blood did, and those auras were regenerating their wounds. In most cases, it had already been done.

They are healed
, Phelistoth informed her.
They will have an increased energy to regenerate wounds for the rest of their lives.
Phelistoth tilted his head, regarding her in that dismissive and arrogant way.
You are welcome, Iskandian.

Sardelle
. She felt stunned—and also regretful that he hadn’t come twenty minutes earlier, so he might have healed the soldier who had killed himself. His method had been so quick that there wouldn’t have been time for an objection. Though his arrogance was off-putting, she managed a sincere,
Thank you.

Come
. Phelistoth nodded toward the door.
We will hunt.

• • • • •

He healed everyone?
Ridge asked.
By just waving his hand?

Yes.
Sardelle shared the memory with him as the tram cage bumped and clanked its way into the lowest levels of the mine. She wasn’t sure her range would allow her to communicate with Ridge once they were all the way down in the mountain, so she was filling him in on the way.
You can tell Therrik that a dragon healed his people instead of a dirty witch.

Ah, I was thinking that Therrik and Phelistoth should never meet. The king would probably blame me if his outpost commander ended up incinerated while I was in the room.

I don’t think silver dragons breathe fire. Phelistoth would just stop his heart with a wave of his hand.

There’s a way I could get blamed for that too. I’m sure of it. Also, you’re not a dirty witch. You’re always very clean and tidy, even when we’re fleeing from lava-spewing, ash-spitting volcanoes.

Sardelle grimaced, all too aware of the blood on her clothes right now.
Jaxi is keeping an eye on the other dragon
, she said, not wanting to share her failure with Ridge now, especially not when she had just told him about Phelistoth’s far superior ability.
If I’m not able to talk to you from down here, she’ll let you know if he’s coming close again.

All right. Duck just got back—the airship is on its way. With luck, it will arrive before the dragon does. Or better yet, the dragon will get bored and go somewhere else. There aren’t any sheep for him to eat here.

You did mention griddle cakes.

Not sheep-flavored griddle cakes.

I believe dragons can eat other things. I saw Phelistoth eating cheese last week.

Is
that
what happened to my block of Premja Paneer? I thought
you
ate it all.

Tylie shared it with him.

Today my cheese, tomorrow my beer.

Sardelle held back a snort, remembering that she had company.
Have you even had any beer since getting promoted? The same three bottles have been in the icebox all month.

After she asked the question, she wished she hadn’t. If he had been drinking beer elsewhere to avoid his uncomfortable new roommates, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know about it. If Tylie was going to continue having dragon visitors, she and Ridge were going to have to find another living arrangement once they got back.

But Ridge’s mournful,
No
, assured her he hadn’t been out drinking and carousing with the boys—or any other girls, either.
I don’t drink when I’m on duty. And I’m always on duty now.
He did the mental equivalent of laying his head on her shoulder.
After this, we need to find time alone somewhere. Perhaps in a cave, where you can stroke my chest.

Or we could spend our leisure time in a more enhanced locale.

Like a cavern?

Maybe your cabin by the lake.
Especially if she could convince him to have an indoor toilet installed.

That sounds agreeable.
He smiled—she could tell even from fifteen levels down into the mountain—but then it faded, and his words grew serious again.
I am concerned about the other dragon. Why would he be lurking nearby? That’s odd, don’t you think? Is it Tylie again? Has he realized she’s still alive? I can’t understand why a human girl would mean so much to such a powerful creature.

Sardelle started to answer, but then Phelistoth’s earlier statement came back to mind, slamming her with a realization.

“Phelistoth,” she said before a question fully formed in her mind. He and Tylie were standing next to her in the dark cage as they descended, neither speaking, at least not out loud. For the moment, their group was alone, though Captain Bosmont had arranged for several soldiers stationed down in the mines to accompany them. She wished Bosmont himself had come, but he’d been pulled away because of his engineering expertise. The soldiers were trying to rebuild the fortress, as much as possible, in case Morishtomaric returned. Ridge and Therrik had been outside, arguing over some wall fortification when she had passed through the courtyard. “The dragon artifacts you mentioned—what are they? Something you would value?”

I do not know what they are. I can sense my kind’s signature on them. They shine like suns down there, with the human artifacts like distant stars.

I never sensed anything of such power,
Sardelle said, switching to telepathy, since she could see light now at the end of the tram shaft,
and I spent years coming in and out of Referatu Headquarters.

Your senses are as impressive as those of a goat.

Jaxi snickered in her mind.

Aren’t you busy doing research?
Sardelle asked.

Very busy. That’s why I didn’t comment on the cheese or chest stroking.

They are all located in one place
, Phelistoth said.

The tram came to a stop. The door opened into a hollow chamber crisscrossed with ore cart rails. A couple of those carts rested next to the tram cage, filled to the brim with dirt and ready to be hauled out. Four soldiers stood in a line, rifles in hand as they shuffled with unease. Sardelle could feel their discomfort before she saw their faces. Though she wished it had to do with the dragon attack, the way the men shared significant looks with each other and stole surreptitious glances at Sardelle, Tylie, and Phelistoth implied otherwise.

“Good morning.” Sardelle smiled and tried to appear as friendly and unthreatening as possible.

Phelistoth did the opposite, his stare cold and his demeanor haughty. They gave him even more glances than Sardelle received. She wondered if Bosmont had mentioned him. Phelistoth had drawn looks up in the courtyard, too, even though Sardelle had hustled him through quickly. Nobody had questioned her. She did not know if that was because Ridge had given orders that she was to be permitted to go wherever she wanted to go, or if everybody remembered who and what she was, and they were simply afraid to question her.

Seemingly oblivious to the men’s unease, Tylie waved cheerfully and immediately started wandering around the chamber, peering into the tunnels. The layout was familiar to Sardelle, but she thought they might be a level or two lower than had existed the last time she had come. The water she had flooded the lower part of the mine with had been pumped out.

“I’m Sergeant Jenneth,” the man who had opened the cage door said. “Captain Bosmont said to take you wherever you want to go.” His forehead wrinkled as he considered the tunnels, some well lit and with clanks drifting from them and others dark and silent.

Sardelle doubted these soldiers were asked for tours often.

“Excellent. Thank you.” She smiled again, not that the gesture put them at ease. She might as well have been displaying a mouth full of fangs. That thought made her glance at Phelistoth, to make sure
he
wasn’t doing such a thing, but aside from the not-quite-right eyes, he appeared fully human. No fangs. “Which tunnel?” she asked him.

She had intended to take the lead, but since she would be guessing based on where she had been found, where she had found Jaxi, and what she remembered of the complex, she wasn’t confident that she could find a soulblade in a timely manner. Many Referatu sorcerers and sorceresses had been in the compound the day of the explosion, so she estimated there would be ten or fifteen soulblades, assuming nobody had moved them. But she hadn’t been keeping track of where the handlers had been in the hours before the explosions detonated.

“I will lead.” Phelistoth walked past the soldiers without acknowledging them and strode down one of the lit tunnels.

Sardelle hurried after him, glad he hadn’t chosen a dark one, because he might have lit it by magical means. Unless dragons saw in the dark. She had no idea. The history books hadn’t covered that.

Tylie chose to walk at Sardelle’s side instead of catching up with Phelistoth. The soldiers trailed behind them, not closely.

“Are you
sure
General Zirkander said they’re supposed to be down here?” one muttered to the other.

“That’s what the captain said,” his buddy muttered back.

“Civilians aren’t allowed down here. Unless they’re mining.”

“I know, but she’s with the general. You know,
with
the general.”

Sardelle glanced at Tylie and wished the men would mutter more quietly. They hadn’t said anything lewd yet, but she wouldn’t be surprised if it escalated to that. Tylie might not understand innuendo, but even so, Sardelle had a notion that she shouldn’t allow herself to be denigrated in front of her student. Her natural inclination was not to cause trouble, but would Tylie think her weak? Would a
Cofah
sorceress stand for being spoken about behind her back?

Are you having insecurity issues again? You usually save those for Ridge. Like when you’re worried he’s been drinking beer with other women.

That was
not
what I was worried about.

Yeah, it was. Subconsciously. You seem to forget that you’re attractive and that he finds you quite witty and appealing. Probably because of me.