Patterns in the Dark (Dragon Blood Book 4) (2 page)

“Can I ask it?” Sardelle asked.

“Not in public, no.”

“Later?”

“Maybe. To answer your question, Duck, Dad wasn’t around much when I was growing up—or after that, either. Mom handled most of the discipline.”

“Oh.” Duck scraped his fingers through his short dark hair. “Did
she
paddle you?”

Zirkander gave him a baleful look—or what passed for one from him. Tolemek hadn’t seen him truly irked very often. The night Zirkander had thought Tolemek had been a threat to Sardelle—and the Iskandian capital city—had been one such time.

Even though Zirkander didn’t answer, Sardelle was grinning. This image must have tickled her.

Oh, we’re all tickled
, spoke a voice in Tolemek’s head. Jaxi. He hadn’t heard from the sentient soulblade since the battle at the volcano and had thought she might be done talking to him.

I was napping. I had to work hard to keep you alive back there.

Yes, I understand you were invaluable.
Tolemek glanced toward Sardelle’s waist, where the soulblade hung in an innocuous-looking scabbard that didn’t hint of the special nature of its occupant. He had never considered himself quick to flatter, but it seemed wise to stay on the good side of a powerful magical artifact.

It is. And I’m just hopping into your head to warn you to keep an eye out. They have a shaman in the village, and these people do
not
like the fliers. They’ve seen Iskandians and Cofah before, and even a dirigible or two, but they worship dragon gods here, and they think the fliers are positively blasphemous. Sardelle and I are watching out for magical problems, but you should ask sniper girl to watch for the mundane.

You can’t ask her yourself?
To Tolemek’s knowledge, Jaxi had never “spoken” to Cas, but he wasn’t positive.

Sardelle says I shouldn’t pop into people’s heads without warning.

You didn’t warn me first.

We considered you an enemy then. One doesn’t have to be as polite with one’s enemies. Besides, it’s easier to talk to those with dragon blood.

Tolemek didn’t respond to that. It had been a surprise—and a blow to his ego—to learn that some of his inventions worked not entirely because of science, but because he had unknowingly caressed them into working using his latent magical talent. In hindsight, it made sense, since he had known his sister had magical talent. In her case, he had never seen it as anything more than a curse—it had made her mentally unbalanced, and their father had put her in that asylum “for her own good.”

We already told you, dragon blood doesn’t make anyone crazy. Something else is going on there.

I know. We’re almost there. Let me talk to Cas.

They had reached the end of the field and were walking up a path that meandered between the mud and thatch huts. A few double-hulled canoes were tied to a single dock that stretched into the lagoon beyond the village, but it was a foregone conclusion that these people didn’t get off their island much. All of the inhabitants wore the simple grass skirts, with most of the women walking around as bare-chested as the men. They whispered from the doorways of the huts and pointed at the strangers.

Tolemek was relieved that most of the points went toward Zirkander and not him. He didn’t know if it was because Zirkander was leading or because they saw a similarity between him and his father, but the fact that Tolemek’s face wasn’t known here was a good thing. There were numerous ports where the Deathmaker was wanted dead or alive. But mostly dead.

“Sardelle thinks we may have some trouble,” Tolemek murmured to Cas as their guides slowed down, holding up hands to stop the group. “Apparently, there’s a shaman.”

“The sword talking to you again?” Cas murmured back.

“I think she likes me.”

Don’t flatter yourself. I talk to Sardelle’s soul snozzle too.

Tolemek blinked.
Her what?

The pretty boy the grass-skirted girls are ogling.

A trio of teenage girls hiding behind clothing hung to dry were
indeed
looking in Zirkander’s direction and giggling. Tolemek decided it had more to do with that goofy leather cap than any superior handsomeness.

Whatever you need to think to feel virile, Deathmaker.

Does Zirkander find your interjections as charming as I do?

Doubly so, I assure you. I’m his favorite sentient sword.

Cas nudged Tolemek in the ribs and tilted her chin toward the doorway of one of the bigger huts. A gray-haired man with numerous necklaces and bone needles piercing his nipples walked out utterly naked, aside from his jewelry. He carried a carved bone cudgel that made the hair on Tolemek’s arms stand up. Another older man walked out, this one bald and carrying a rifle nearly as nice as Cas’s.

“Hope that wasn’t something taken from the colonel’s dad after they ate him,” Cas muttered, her finger resting lightly on the trigger of her weapon. The idea of starting a fire fight from within this growing crowd of people made Tolemek uncomfortable. He had come for information, not to slay people—and he wasn’t looking to be slain, either.

“Dad doesn’t carry firearms,” Zirkander said. “He’s a peaceful explorer.”

“What happens when the natives aren’t peaceful?” Duck asked.

“A lot of the stories he told me as a kid involved running, swinging from vines, and swimming dangerous currents. I’m not quite sure how his strategies might have adjusted now that he’s almost seventy.”

The naked man—was this the shaman?—strode toward Zirkander with his cudgel held aloft and his well-endowed penis aloft, as well. Nobody looked at him as if this were odd.

“It’s to intimidate you,” Sardelle said. “I think they’re a part of the
magnolushian
sect.”

“Obviously.” Zirkander cleared his throat and looked squarely at… the top of the man’s head.

Tolemek had never heard of that sect, but he was suddenly glad Zirkander was the pretty one here.

The shaman stopped in front of Zirkander, pointed at his face, and jabbered in an irritated tone. He pointed toward a rocky promontory up the beach, jabbered more, pointed in the direction of the fliers, and jabbered even more.

Zirkander smiled and held out his postcard again.

The shaman slapped his hand away, almost knocking it to the ground.

“Sardelle,” Zirkander said, “any idea what the appropriate thing for me to do here would be?”

“Yes, but I don’t think you’re going to do it.”

“Does it involve taking off my pants?”

“And being larger than him, yes.”

“Uhm, I’m just not as excited about this whole situation as he is.”

Sardelle drew her sword and stepped forward. Jaxi’s scabbard might not be that flamboyant, but the soulblade herself was another matter. She immediately flared to life, blindingly bright even in the tropical sun. People stepped back, raising their arms to shield their eyes. The shaman’s hand tightened around his cudgel, but Sardelle twitched a finger, and the weapon flew from his grip. He growled and lunged for her.

Zirkander whipped out a pistol even as Cas stepped forward, her own rifle aiming at the shaman’s chest, but Sardelle said, “Don’t,” and everyone halted, except for the shaman, who flew backward, his bare ass landing in the sand. She pointed her sword toward the bald man next to him and stared into his eyes, her own eyes cold, her face carved from granite.

Tolemek shifted uncomfortably. He had rarely seen Sardelle openly unleash her power, since it could get her killed for being a witch in Iskandia, and in Cofahre too. The reminders of what she could do were always disturbing. There was a reason the common man had been afraid of the magic wielders in prior centuries, eventually banding together to rid the world of most of them.

The bald man dropped to his knees and pressed his forehead to the sand. The rest of the villagers did the same, though the shaman was very slow to do so, and he glowered as his head descended.

Sardelle’s eyes grew wide, her expression chagrined. “That’s not what I… I was just trying to win the cock contest.”

“Glad someone was equipped to do that,” Zirkander said. “Is there any chance you can find out where my dad is?”

She nodded. “Over on that promontory. They’re not happy that he’s been here so long. The chief is hoping we’ll leave soon and take him with us.”

“What’s the shaman thinking?”

“That he wants to stick a knife into my chest—and yours too.”

“Mine?” Zirkander protested.

“His wife was looking admiringly at you.”

“Wonderful. All right, group. Let’s head up the beach before they get tired of kissing the sand.”

Nobody rose to stop them when Zirkander and Duck walked toward the lagoon.

“Sardelle?” Tolemek asked. “Are you communicating with them mentally?”

“Jaxi is, yes. Neither of us has a clue about the language, so it’s rough.”

He unrolled his sketch. “Can you see if they recognize any of these flowers?”

“I’ll check.” Sardelle’s eyes closed halfway as she gazed down at the shaman. A long moment passed, and Tolemek shifted from foot to foot. He doubted anything would come of the inquiry, but maybe these people traveled to various islands in their canoes. Maybe someone had come from another tribe. Maybe—

Sardelle shook her head. “Neither the shaman nor the chief is familiar with that foliage.”

Tolemek sighed and headed after others. He caught Cas glancing back toward the shaman, who was still glowering in their direction, his eyes promising they would hear from him again.

Chapter 2

They were being followed.

Oh, Cas didn’t see anyone when she looked back along the beach, but the jungle hugged the sandy shoreline, its dark interior offering thousands of hiding places. Monkeys shrieked from the treetops and rattled the branches. Brightly colored birds squawked, flying away as the group walked past. Nobody, human or animal, was happy to see the foreigners, and Cas hoped they could find what they needed and leave quickly.

She could feel the tense impatience oozing off Tolemek as he strode along—she had to hurry to keep up with his longer gait. Zirkander, Sardelle, and Duck were moving quickly, too, or at least they were until they reached the rocky outcropping. It marked the end of the beach, with rocks stretching out into the water as well as inland, and there was no choice but to go up.

“There are people up there,” Sardelle said. “In a cave. A large cave.”

“Do you want to lead the way?” Zirkander quirked an eyebrow at her. “Seeing as how you have the biggest sword here.” Genuine humor warmed his face, and he didn’t sound bitter or annoyed that Sardelle had been the one to deal with that odious shaman.

Sardelle grimaced, probably at the situation rather than him. “No, you can lead. You’ve seen my climbing skills.” She gazed back down the empty beach.

Zirkander started toward the rock wall, but she stopped him with a hand to his forearm.

“One other thing. That shaman… He wasn’t accustomed to combating other magic wielders—I sensed that quickly—but he
does
have power. Some other specialty that doubtlessly makes sense for his people and this environment.”

“So he’s a threat, even if your sword is bigger,” Zirkander said.

“I definitely sensed that he was already plotting unpleasantries for us when we were leaving.”

“I did too.” Cas thought about mentioning her hunch that someone was watching them, but
everyone
probably felt that way already. “We might want to hurry.”

Sardelle picked her way up the steep slope.

Despite his invitation that she lead, Zirkander went up at the same time she did, giving her a hand here and there. Sardelle was wearing practical leathers, rather than one of her usual dresses, and appeared quite capable of climbing on her own, but she accepted his assistance now and then. Cas wondered if she should let Tolemek do things like that for her more. It was probably important for the man to feel manly and useful, and she had a tendency toward being brusque and rejecting help. Tolemek hadn’t complained, though, and he shouldn’t have any reason to feel useless next to her. It wasn’t as if Cas could fling villagers around with her mind. She could shoot holes into them if necessary, but that wasn’t always the ideal approach.

Cas kept her back to the rocks, watching the beach and the jungle until Zirkander, Sardelle, and Duck made it to the top. Tolemek paused halfway up, waiting for her.

Cas clambered up, having to stretch to find handholds. Annoying how the seven gods had made so few trees, walls, and rocky promontories with the climbing needs of five-foot-tall women in mind. She glanced at Tolemek, wondering if he might offer her a hand at some point, but he merely nodded encouragingly at her. She decided she appreciated that—she didn’t
need
help, and he knew it. But at the same time, he waited to make sure.

As soon as she reached the top, she faced the beach again, watching in case someone headed in their direction. She didn’t have that dragon blood that Sardelle and even Tolemek had, but her neck hairs were dancing.

A flash of orange caught her eye. It did not come from the village, but from out in the fields. Thanks to the jungle, she could barely see the spot where they had landed now, but she leaned out and frowned.

“Someone threw a torch onto one of the fliers,” she announced.

Zirkander had been walking across the flat section of rock that lay ahead, but he stopped, his head jerking around. “What?”

“A brand is burning in front of one of the windshields.”

“Whose?” Duck asked.

“Uhm, that’s the colonel’s,” Cas said.

“Wonderful.” Zirkander looked at Sardelle. “This isn’t because I wouldn’t take off my trousers, is it?”

Sardelle wore that distant expression she got when she was accessing her magic. “I don’t think so. It’s those two guards that stayed behind. They’re stalking around the fliers and experimenting. I’ve protected them, so the fire won’t do any damage. Jaxi will keep an eye on things too.”