Balanced on the Blade's Edge (Dragon Blood, Book 1) (11 page)

“Ah, I see, sir.” Heriton did sound a tad
less perplexed now. Or at least he had decided to go along with his
eccentric C.O. He pointed to the bottom of a page. “And you want to
give them a day off if they finish a book?”

“If they can summarize it sufficiently and
answer questions that prove they read it. Those are hefty tomes,
and those men don’t have a lot of free time. There has to be some
sort of incentive.”

“I think I understand, sir. But, uhm, who’s
going to quiz the miners?”

“What’s the matter, Captain? Haven’t
you
read those? They’re classics.”

“I, uh… a couple.”

Ridge grinned.

“I’ll familiarize myself with them,” Heriton
said, though not without a daunted look in his eyes.

“Good. Dismissed.”

“Thank you, sir. Oh, I almost forgot. You
have another visitor.” Heriton pushed open the door, revealing
Sardelle standing in the hallway, her lush hair loose about her
shoulders, her mouth curving into a tentative smile.

Last night, Ridge had been certain it would
be better for his sanity if she didn’t come today, but seeing her
there made his soul soar. It also made his cheeks flush as his
thoughts from the night before reared to the forefront of his mind
again. Thank the gods that matronly prison dress didn’t do anything
to distract him further. Aware of the captain’s eyes, Ridge managed
to keep his face neutral.

“She
assures
me
she’s expected.” Heriton raised his eyebrows.

“Yes, she’s my insider on the magic
investigation.” Ridge chose the word magic instead of murder,
understanding that nobody here seemed concerned about the deaths of
miners. Magic, on the other hand, was surely something they could
all understand investigating.

Heriton’s brows rose higher. “Oh, really?
Does that mean you don’t need her report anymore?”

“No, I’m still waiting for you to produce
it.” Ridge smiled and waved the man out of his office.

Sardelle walked in, her own eyebrows raised.
“Have
you
read all the books on that
list?”

Ridge lifted his chin. “I’ve read many of
them.”

“Many? More than three?”

“No less than five, I assure you.”

She snorted, then a speculative expression
bloomed on her face. “A day off for anyone who can summarize a
book? For
each
book?”

“That’s the deal I put out, yes.”

“When’s the test?”

“After a day of laundry duty, you’re ready to
take off?”

“Oh, more than ready.” Sardelle rubbed her
hands together. “Do you have a copy of the list? I’m ready now.
I’ll even constrain myself to the ones you’ve read.”

“How do you know you’ve read the ones I’ve
read? There are more than a hundred books on that list.” All the
classics they had in the meager prison library had gone onto the
list. Some of them were as dusty and old as the mountain itself. “I
don’t believe you’ve read them all.”

“I’ve read enough for a day off. Or
five.”

“Fine.” Ridge pulled his master copy of the
sheet out of a file in the bottom desk drawer. “How about
Denhoft’s Theories on Aerodynamic and
Aerostatic Flight
?”

Sardelle clasped her hands behind her back.
“Written approximately four hundred years ago, the text dealt
largely with theory rather than proven scientific experiment.
Denhoft theorized that there were two types of flying machines that
could allow for lift to overcome gravity… ”

Ridge had to consciously keep his mouth from
falling open in surprise as she continued on, offering a precise
and accurate summary of the book. He asked a few questions in the
end, and she answered them satisfactorily, though with a few
hesitations.

“History is more my specialty,” she said
before he could compliment her. “I read a lot of the ones in that
left row in school.”

Ridge had only read two of them. He started
with the ones he knew. She was more animated and confident in her
summaries of those books, adding opinions and gesturing with her
hands as she described the rise and fall of the imperial dynasties
that had claimed this continent before the original tribes had
rebelled, declaring themselves an independent sovereign nation and
fighting off any aggressors who sought to impose upon them
again.

After summarizing the books he knew—and five
others he didn’t—she leaned forward again. “Oh, Dusmovan. Have you
read his book? It’s a fictional tale, but it’s incredibly detailed,
showing the archaeologist’s journey to discover what came of the
dragons. He hunted all over the world for fossils that would help
explain their sudden passing from our world.”

Ridge lifted a hand. It did sound
interesting, and he would put it on his own reading list—on the off
chance this job gave him any free time—but… “You’ve already earned
eight days off, and I believe you came here this morning on another
matter?”

“Oh.” Sardelle flushed, the red of her cheeks
bringing out her blue eyes.

Ridge wouldn’t have minded letting her
continue on, but he had that meeting to get to. It had been a
surprisingly enlightening interlude though. His earlier theory,
that she might be some rogue professor here to hunt for crystals,
or even other artifacts, returned to the front of his mind. Would a
military spy be that versed in the classics? The classics of
his
continent? Not only that, but she was
clearly passionate about history.

“By the way,” Ridge said, “this school where
you read these books… was it before or after you left your family’s
shepherd ways to become a pirate?”

Her cheeks dimpled when she smiled, a shy
caught-me smile. “Before.”

“I never knew a rural education to be so
thorough. Your teacher should be commended.”

The smile drooped, and something flashed in
her eyes. Pain?

“Yes,” Sardelle said more somberly. “She was
inspiring.”

Ridge debated whether to apologize for
chancing across some painful past memory, but she spoke again
first.

“The murder… it doesn’t seem to have had
anything to do with magic.” Sardelle glanced at his eyes. “Or I
should say, the woman, Bretta, had nothing to do with magic. I
investigated the so-called magical tools that were, I believe,
planted under the blanket in her bunk. According to
Braytok’s Compendium of Sorcerers and Sorcerous
Artifacts
, a book that isn’t on your list but should be, since
it could clear up confusion due to ignorance, tools for holding
energy, souls, or for performing tasks or enhancing powers must be
made from a sturdy enough material to contain energy, generally a
metal alloy or diamond or other such gem. Hard rocks occasionally,
but not wood. The book says it would combust at the first pouring
of energy into it.”

Ridge listened attentively, though it made
him uncomfortable to hear her speak so openly of magic. That book
she had mentioned… nobody outside of an academic setting would ever
dare be caught with such a thing. Even then, it made people
twitchy. It made
him
twitchy. He had never
cared much until the Cofah had started importing those witches or
wizards or whatever they called them, and putting them into the sky
where he and his squadron started encountering them. Since then, he
had lost… too much.

“Forgive my rambling,” Sardelle said. Ridge
wondered if she had noticed a reaction in him. He hadn’t meant to
let anything show. “My point is that dolls made from twigs are
hokum. Someone planted those in her bunk to arouse suspicion—or
validate what he was going to do—and then sneaked into the barracks
when few were around and killed her.”

“Any ideas on who?”

Ridge didn’t expect her to have learned who
in the scant hours since they had last spoken, but when she
swallowed and gazed out the window, he realized she did know. So,
why the hesitation? He tried to read her face. It was a study of
concentration. She seemed to be wrestling with herself.

“Are you afraid he’ll come after you for
revenge if you tell me?” Ridge asked.

“I’m afraid… he might have genuinely thought
she was a witch, and in your—our culture, well, that would have
made killing Bretta justifiable, wouldn’t it?”

Ridge leaned back, feeling the hardness of
his chair against his shoulder blades. He had noticed her slip-up,
and it put doubt into his assumptions all over again. More than
that, he sensed she was lying.

“Who is it?” Ridge asked. “We’ll hear from
him and decide the rest.” We? It was he, wasn’t it? He would have
to be judge and juror here. A fact that hadn’t been mentioned on
his orders.

“I don’t know for sure,” Sardelle said
slowly. “Gossip and hearsay and who saw what, when, you
understand.”

“Yes… ”

“But if you can find out if a man named Tace
was missing from his shift yesterday afternoon when this happened,
you might have your answer. He might have had help from a second
man. I didn’t hear the other name.”

“Thank you.” Ridge wrote the name down. For
once a number would have been easier, but Captain Heriton ought to
be intimately acquainted with the archives by now. Maybe he would
recognize the man. “I’ll find him and have him questioned.”

Sardelle nodded curtly. Her gaze was still
out the window. Ridge waited for her to inquire about the map—she
must have seen it rolled up next to his desk, but something was
bothering her. All the animation she had shown when reciting the
book summaries had drained from her. He felt an urge to comfort
her, the same urge that had taken him to the laundry room the night
before. This time, he made himself remain where he was.

“Is there something else I should know?” he
asked.

Sardelle shook her head and pulled her focus
back to him. “No, it’s just… a lamentable situation.”

“Yes.”

Ridge pointed his pen toward the map. “We
made a deal. There’s the map. There aren’t many up-to-date copies
around, so I trust you’ll understand if I don’t let it leave my
office.” Not to mention how many vomit stains and dust bunnies he’d
had to clean up to find it wedged against the baseboard behind the
couch.

“I understand.” Sardelle still seemed subdued
as she came forward and unrolled the map.

Ridge picked up his papers so she could lay
it out on his desk.

She did so, using a couple of paperweights to
pin down the corners and gazed at it for no more than thirty
seconds before issuing an eloquent, “Huh.”

Ridge wasn’t sure what he had expected from
her, but that wasn’t it.

“Is that where the ore is?” Sardelle waved
toward the section of the mountain where the levels and levels of
tunnels snaked around.

Ridge didn’t answer. He would let her look,
but he wouldn’t provide intelligence. He was already worried his
generosity—or perhaps it was foolishness—would turn into a regret.
He had allowed the map deal in the hope that he, in observing her,
would learn more about
her
than she did
about the facility.

“All the miners mumble about crystals,” she
added, looking up at him.

She seemed curious and faintly puzzled. An
act? Wasn’t she
here
for the crystals?
Whether she was a spy or some kind of archaeological bandit, Ridge
had assumed she had come for them. What else was of value in this
mountain? Silver was worth something, but it wasn’t that rare an
ore. Even if she hadn’t come for the crystals, he found it odd that
she could discover a murderer’s name overnight, but didn’t know
about something all of the miners knew about. Granted, the women
remained up top and handled the domestic duties, but Ridge would be
surprised if most of them didn’t know what was in the mountain
under them.

“The placement of the tunnels surprises you?”
Maybe he could extract some information from her, though what he
was fishing for he didn’t truly know.

“According to the books, the people who lived
here before… before they were destroyed, they had their home in
this part of the mountain.” Sardelle waved to a spot that was
mostly off the map. “There were a few tunnels over here, I think,
but they were more interested in, well, I suppose I don’t know, but
the old road leading to the pass exited from the other side of the
mountain. That was the road more traveled. There wasn’t much back
here, except a few market stalls in the summers, and a private area
for practicing… stuff.”

It was all Ridge could do not to blurt out,
asking what she was talking about. People who had lived here? Maybe
he
was the one who needed to go around
talking to the miners. But no, he had perused a lot of the
operating manual, and it didn’t mention anything about former
inhabitants. It specifically said the crystals were an unexplained
phenomenon that had only ever been discovered in this mountain.

“In what book did you find this information?
Because I’m certain it’s not one of the ones on my list.”

“No… something I read at one point. I can’t
seem to recall the title.”

After the morning’s memory display, Ridge had
a hard time believing she forgot much of anything. Did some
university out there know more than the military did about its own
secret? Or maybe someone in the military knew… and had forgotten to
mention it to Ridge before foisting the command on him. If so, that
seemed rude.

“And who were these people who, according to
your forgotten source, lived here?” Ridge asked.

Sardelle opened her mouth as if to spout the
quick answer, but paused and searched his face for a moment before
shrugging and saying, “The Referatu.”

A chill ran through him. “The sorcerers.” The
sorcerers who had tried to take over the continent, to enslave
everyone who didn’t have their powers. He knew about the purging,
about the war that had been fought against them three hundred years
ago, but he had never heard that they had come out of a mountain
base. Or that this had been it. True, he wasn’t a huge academic,
having never been interested in more than the military and flying
as a kid, but he wasn’t completely ignorant either. This was
not
common knowledge. So how did his
little spy/thief know?