by T. A. White
When all else fails, pretend to be dumb. It likely wouldn’t work but it usually frustrated her opponent enough that they lost all sense of reason.
Blade was made of sterner stuff than her normal victims. Instead of reacting to her provocation, he calmly finished cleaning his blade before tucking it into one of the many sheaths Tate knew he had hidden all over his body.
Being someone with an affinity for concealed blades herself, Tate didn’t find that strange. Actually, if she was being honest, the fact he was putting the blade away rather than taking out a second one was reassuring. It made it less likely he’d try to kill her.
“I’m going to assume it was when you entered Jaxon Kuno’s realm.”
Tate concealed her reaction, keeping her face carefully blank.
“And you didn’t tell anyone because one—you were hoping you were wrong. And two—you feared the city’s reaction if they knew.”
Unease rose inside Tate. Assassins made good killers because they understood the habits of their prey. It didn’t bode well that he could read her well enough to guess her motives so easily. It would make him a difficult opponent should they ever find themselves on separate sides of a fight.
Seeing he’d guessed right, Blade’s lips quirked. “I’ll inform my Night Lords of this new development. They’ll need to make different preparations in the event you’re right.”
“What will they do?” Tate asked, needing to know.
Blade didn’t answer for a long moment. “Nothing as bad as you’re imaging. We’ll do what we’ve always done—accept those we can and eliminate those who present a threat.”
There was a lot of room for gray area in that statement. The Night Lords weren’t in the habit of running a charity. They protected many in the Lower but it was because those people were useful to them. Not out of a sense of duty.
Sleepers who had useful abilities might find themselves in a cage of a different sort—and one with invisible bars was still a cage.
It wasn’t Tate’s preferred option, but for now it would have to do. For the determined, the courts wouldn’t be much of an impediment to finding freedom if they truly wished it. It might even be considered helpful since they’d have the chance to learn a little about how this world worked before stepping onto the surface.
Blade started to walk away before pausing. “Your minor goddess had a message she wanted me to give to you.”
“Ai?”
“She didn’t give me her name.”
There was only one person Tate could think of matching that title and who also had access to Blade.
“Black hair. Looks around the age of fifteen. About this high.” Tate held her hand up to chest level. “Kind of creepy?”
Blade inclined his chin. “That’s her.”
Strange. Ai didn’t usually reveal herself to others unless something was going on.
“In future, I’d appreciate if you could let her know I’m not your personal messenger,” Blade said.
Tate scoffed. “Yeah, because telling minor goddesses what to do is great for my continued existence.”
Granted, Tate’s memories told her Ai and the others like her weren’t technically gods, but considering they were nearly all powerful in their limited spaces, she figured they were close enough to be treated as such.
For Ai, her movements were limited to the tunnels. The others Tate had met were even more limited.
Tate didn’t know what had possessed Jax to create such powerful beings, but she thanked her lucky stars he’d had the foresight to restrict them in some ways.
“What did she have to say?” Tate asked, curious.
“The first move has begun. The dead speak. You need to figure out a way to listen. Trust no one.”
Tate waited as Blade looked at her with expectation.
“That’s it?”
He grunted. “Do you know what it means?”
“Not at all.”
“Something tells me you will soon enough.” Blade lifted a hand in farewell, disappearing into the shadows. Only the soft thuds of his footsteps kept Tate company until even those faded as if they’d never been.
Tate grimaced. How did one go about listening to the dead? And which dead did Ai have in mind?
* * *
Tate wasted no time making her way out of Cliff’s Shadow, thankful when her passage was quieter and less eventful than her arrival had been. One mysterious attack and city-wide pursuit was more than enough for an evening.
It wasn’t long before she reached the invisible boundary marking the end of Cliff’s Shadow, moving toward the soft twinkle of the glow lamps that lined the streets ahead. A luxury the alleyways and streets of the slums weren’t afforded.
For half a moment, Tate was tempted to head home. The events of the evening had been exhausting. Her escape from the palace had left her smelling like smoke and it was beginning to give her a headache.
Instead, Tate trudged toward the cliffs, taking a path that veered away from the public elevators, which were likely shut down given the events earlier.
Not that it would have mattered if they were still working. Returning to the scene of Ilith’s rather dramatic rescue would cause a fuss and invite questions Tate didn’t have the patience for.
Tate wasn’t Ilith. She couldn’t use her large bulk and equally large teeth to intimidate people into silence.
Eventually, someone related to the government would track her down but hopefully not until after she rested. But before she could seek her bed, she first had to make sure Dewdrop and the rest were alright.
Which meant a journey back to the Upper; as if her life wasn’t already difficult enough.
In reality there was only one feasible option. The public elevators were out as was the Hill. Tate didn’t have the time or energy to trek all the way across the city, up the hill, and then across the Upper to the palace. By the time she finished all that, it would be nearing morning, making her efforts wasted.
Switching forms with Ilith was also a nonstarter. For one, her dragon was snoozing in the back of Tate’s mind where she’d checked out since shortly after she assured herself Blade wasn’t likely to kill them. Evidently, ripping an elevator off a cliff, crash landing with it, and converting children into potential acolytes was exhausting business.
That left the emperor’s private elevator. Tate had only ever used it a handful of times and always in the accompaniment of another dragon-ridden or one of the emperor’s own people.
Decision made, Tate moved quickly through the streets, skirting the rougher parts of the city until she reached her destination. A recess in the cliff hidden by the rock’s formation. Perfectly disguised, it would have been easy to miss unless you knew it was there.
Even Tate couldn’t help but second guess herself as she touched the rock face, searching for the opening. Only a small flicker among the shadows alerted her to the presence of those guarding the entrance.
Definitely, the right place.
“I’m Tate Fisher, dragon-ridden. Its urgent I get to the Upper,” Tate said in a voice that wouldn’t carry more than a few feet.
With the attack on the palace, security would have been tightened. No doubt the guards were operating from a heightened state of alertness. She didn’t want any mistakes happening because she startled them into attacking.
A woman wearing a uniform stepped out of the shadows where Tate thought the entrance was located. In the moonlight, it wasn’t difficult to see the emperor’s crest on her chest, a dragon wrapped around a large blue stone.
“Let’s see your dragon,” the woman instructed.
“She’s a little big to bring out here.” Tate looked around on the narrow trail she’d found leading up to this entrance. There was a small slope descending to the buildings butting up against the rest of the cliff.
“Your tattoo is enough.”
“In that case.” Tate shrugged out of her jacket and pulled the sleeve or her silk undershirt up, exposing the sleeping Ilith cu
rled into the crook of Tate’s arm.
“She’s who she says she is.” The woman gestured toward the hidden entrance. “This way, Lady.”
Tate didn’t say anything else as the woman led her into the recess of the cliff. Once inside, Tate’s eyes adjusted quickly to the warm, yellow light of the glow lamps. Light that wasn’t visible until you breached the entrance.
Wooden beams braced the passageway, leading to a set of elegant doors where another pair of guards stood at attention.
The woman stepped only a few feet into the cavern before stopping to let Tate continue on her own. To her surprise, the guard by the elevator didn’t try to stop or challenge her, instead stepping to the side and pulling a lever down.
Gears turned and the doors slid open revealing a cage that was as different as night and day to the ones that serviced the public.
Not wasting any time, Tate stepped inside as the guard returned to his sentry position. Only when the doors closed again, did Tate relax.
Moments passed as Tate silently ascended.
There was a barely perceptible jolt as the elevator stopped, reaching its destination. The doors whisked open.
Tate didn’t step out immediately. “Well, this is unexpected.”
Ben stood with his hands behind his back, amusement dancing in his eyes. By contrast, George’s expression reminded Tate of Night when he got a splinter in his paw and refused to let anyone touch him for days. Irritable and grumpy.
“How did you know I would come this way?” Tate asked, finding herself just a little impressed.
Because it was obvious they’d been lying in wait for her.
Could the emperor or the Lord Provost have already heard about Ilith’s shenanigans in the city?
Tate grimaced. In that case, she sort of deserved this greeting party. While shifting to the dragon wasn’t strictly forbidden in Aurelia, the emperor did expect a certain amount of discretion. Something Tate and Ilith had thrown right out the window.
“There’s only a few ways up from the Lower,” Ben said with a friendly smile. “One of which is destroyed.”
Well, that answered that question. The emperor knew. Lovely.
“The Hill would take much too long, leaving you only the emperor’s personal elevator.”
Tate pointed at him. “Wrong. There is one last option.”
“Ah, but your dragon isn’t the most graceful of fliers and it’d be difficult finding a place with enough room for her to get a running start in the city.” Ben leaned forward. “Also, your dragon is lazy so the chances of her agreeing to being used as transportation are small.”
Well, well, well. Someone had been paying attention.
Tate looked Ben up and down. “Are you watching me? You know me pretty well for a person I’ve only met a handful of times.”
He gave her a faint smile. “I pay attention.”
“Enough,” George barked, losing patience with their banter. To Tate, “You’re coming with us. You’ve been summoned. The emperor is waiting for you.”
NINE
Tate raised her hands, showing she was unarmed and didn’t intend to put up a fight. “Alright, you don’t have to be so uptight.”
George’s frown grew more pronounced, turning into a scowl Tate would have found more intimidating coming from someone she feared.
As it was, she couldn’t help but be mildly amused that George was so easy to tease. How did the woman manage to earn a moniker like dragon slayer if she was so easily pushed off balance?
Tate allowed the two to escort her through the palace. The smell of smoke permeated the halls despite the fact they were in the opposite wing from the one that had caught fire. To her surprise, they didn’t turn deeper into the palace toward the council chambers but rather took a route that led them outside.
A guard opened the doors as they approached, sending them a respectful nod as they stepped past before closing the door again.
Tate frowned but didn’t say anything as they moved further and further away from the palace. Across the lawn and through several carefully tended gardens. During the day, the grounds provided a relaxing sanctuary to stroll through. The air fragrant with flowers and sunshine.
Night was a different story. Winter had left many of the flower beds barren. With spring only beginning, it would be weeks before the gardens resumed their natural beauty. For now, strange shadows seemed to sprout from the topiaries and statues they passed as a result of the light from the moon.
Tonight, the gardens couldn’t hold her interest, and Tate found herself studying the palace. In particular, the part of the palace where the fire had originated. At some point after her departure, the emperor’s people had managed to put it out. A thick haze of smoke still obscured the stars in the night sky.
Fires were unruly things to get under control. It was surprising they’d managed so quickly, making Tate wonder whether they’d had an artifact or a dragon’s help. Either would explain the quick reaction.
The wing that had seen the most damage from the fire was looking worse for wear. There were gaping holes where the flames had managed to eat through the stone. Half of one of the exterior walls looked semi-melted, the stone twisted and puddled on the ground outside to create a flat surface.
Being made from black stone, it was impossible to see how damaged the walls were around the melted parts. Tate suspected it’d be difficult to tell what had suffered scorch marks and what had weathered the blaze even with the advantage of daylight.
They left the gardens and palace behind, approaching the cliff in the distance. In the dark, it felt like strolling up to the end of the world, only the crash of the waves far below contradicting the illusion.
Why had they brought her out here? As far as she knew, there wasn’t anything but cliffs and sea. Somehow, she didn’t think the emperor summoned her for a midnight stroll.
“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to give me a hint on what I’m walking into?”
Ben sent her a cryptic glance. “Not really.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”
Ben and George turned left, traveling along the edge of the cliff until they were as far from the palace as possible without falling to your death or flying.
A pair of pillars with stone dragon heads mounted on top sat to either side of an incongruous set of stairs. From far away, those stairs seemed to simply drop off the edge of the cliff. It wasn’t until Tate was closer that she saw that the stairs were cut deep into the stone, creating a channel that led all the way to the ocean below.
“I almost forgot about these,” she said softly.
The fourth and final method to reach the Upper from the Lower. It was a route that wouldn’t occur to most due to the strenuous undertaking required. Even the Hill was preferable to climbing a thousand steps straight up with the ocean breeze a constant irritant as it tried to pluck you off.
More importantly, the stairs could only be seen from the ocean. Not the rest of the city. Out of sight; out of mind.
George and Ben’s footsteps echoed on the stone as they began their descent, slipping past the dragon head pillars without a word. Tate followed, noting the guards standing on either side of the staircase, nearly invisible in the shadows of the pillars.
A peculiar energy brushed against Tate’s senses, growing stronger with every step she descended. At first no more than the hint of a breeze, it burgeoned into gentle waves that buffeted her mentally and emotionally.
Ilith woke, pressing down on Tate’s conscience to peer through her eyes.
“Do you know what this is?” Tate ignored George’s startled glance as she concentrated on her dragon. Ilith was unsettled, something about the energy throwing her off balance.
Ilith?
Her dragon’s response was terse. I need to think.
Tate frowned. That didn’t sound promising. Are we in danger?
I don’t know.
It was the first time Ilith had sounded so uncertain. The answer did nothing fo
r Tate’s peace of mind.
Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do about it unless she wanted to shift to the dragon and hide until the Aurelian empire fell into dust.
In need of a distraction and bored with the silence, Tate looked at George. “Dragon slayer, right? How many dragons did you have to slay to get that title? Did you always know you wanted to be a dragon slayer?”
Had George dreamed of it as a young girl? Being the person to kill the most powerful creature in Aurelia?
George stumbled on the stairs. Ben turned toward the cliff, hiding his face as his shoulders shook.
George stared at her for several silent seconds. “What made you ask me this?”
Tate lifted a shoulder. “No reason.”
How could she tell the woman it was because she was bored? Judging from George’s reaction, the question hit at a sore point. If George knew Tate asked out of idle curiosity, she was very much afraid the slayer might slay her.
Or at least try to.
Ilith perked up, the dragon liking the idea of hunting the predator that was supposed to hunt them. It was the sort of contradictory image her dragon adored.
George opened her mouth and then closed it again, looking slightly lost.
Tate started walking again, not really expecting her to answer. It was a rather insulting question after all.
“Zero. I’ve killed zero dragons.”
This time it was Tate’s turn to stumble as her head twisted toward George in disbelief.
“You’re kidding, right? Why do they call you dragon slayer then?”
It didn’t make sense to Tate. What a nonsensical title, if true. It was like calling someone a sailor when they’d never stepped foot on a ship or been within a mile of water.
She’d expected some astronomical number or at the very least a story of how she’d killed someone precious to the dragons from the way Thora and Blaise reacted to her.
Not this ridiculousness.
Wordlessly, George lifted a hand. A blade that looked like it’d been carved from obsidian formed. About the length of Tate’s arm, it appeared wicked sharp and deadly.